#like. yeah this is the wall for when i think too hard

[marvelstoriesepic]

Your Ghost Knows Me

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: On a mission to dismantle a Hydra base, Bucky’s activation codes are triggered. And what does he do without a kill order?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: mind control; non-consensual behavior (not sexual but bodily autonomy themes); possessive behavior; gun violence (implied, not graphic); threats of violence; emotional manipulation (unintentional); PTSD; trauma responses; forced proximity; mentions of Bucky’s past; Hydra

Author’s Note: I'll never get tired of a possessive Winter Soldier!! Honestly, I should write about him more often. Anyway, this absolutely iconic request is from my sweet dear!! Thank you so much, and I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

There is always something quiet about Bucky when he looks at you before the mission begins. Quiet in the way thunder is quiet just before the crack. As if he is holding something inside himself too loud for the world.

You always say his name and he would look at you like he’s afraid to blink.

You don’t think you’re supposed to notice the way he hovers at your side. You’re not supposed to feel his shadow, stitched to your steps. But you do. You always do. Because Bucky Barnes does not know how to stay subtle. Not with you. Not when he thinks you might not make it out of this alive.

Your mission is to break into an old Hydra base with heat still humming through the walls and ghosts still hanging from the rafters.

The team drops in like rain. Controlled chaos. Clint on the left flank. Sam from above. Steve on the right flank. Nat somewhere in the dark.

You are light-footed and fast and smart and alive. Bucky stays behind you. Always behind you. Watching your six. He never lets you fall.

And you get the proof of this for the thousandth time when he throws his arm out and grabs your vest to yank you back hard enough to make you gasp. Your heart stutters in your throat. You stumble, twist, spin - and crash into him.

There was a tripwire. You almost walked into it. And Bucky saw. He sees everything.

“You okay?” He breathes, voice low, not quite touching worry but brushing the edges of it.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “Thanks.”

He nods. Says nothing. Keeps moving.

You press forward into the maze of concrete and metal that is the Hydra base, gun raised, heart playing the drum in your ribs.

Bucky slows.

You glance over at him. “What is it?”

He stares at a rusted door, barely ajar. A soft static pulses from within, like an old radio dying in slow motion. The sound crawls down your spine. Your skin prickles.

“Bucky,” you start, reaching for him. “Let’s move.”

But he’s already walking toward that door with narrowed eyes.

The room is dark. Cold. Frost is on the walls like a memory that won’t let go. A machine in the corner makes low noises. Wires twitch on the floor like veins ripped from a corpse. The air stinks of metal and mildew and something old. Something wrong.

And then it speaks. A voice, thick with static, seeps out of the machine. A voice you don’t understand. Not really. You can’t make out the words, but you know them. You know what they mean.

“Желание. Ржавый.”

You spin around, heart rushing up to your ears, calling his name, but it’s too late.

“Семнадцать. Рассвет.”

Bucky stands frozen.

Stone. Steel. Silence.

His face is slack. That haunted stillness takes over.

He isn’t gone. But he isn’t Bucky anymore.

“Печь.”

His eyes go distant. Flat. His face cracks into something you’ve only seen in nightmares. No fury. No fear. Just absence.

“Доброкачественный.”

“No,” you breathe. Your heart forgets how to beat. “Bucky,” you basically yell at him. Nobody even knew there were still functioning systems here. But they’d been waiting. Planning.

“Девять.”

“Bucky please snap out of this.” You know it’s useless. You don’t know why you say it.

“Возвра��ение на родину.“

Your hand trembles around the grip of your weapon as you force yourself to jump out of the shock your limbs are locked in. You raise your arm and aim. You pull the trigger. One.

“Один.”

Two.

“Грузовой вагон.”

Three.

Four times.

The machine sparks. Cracks. Screams. A dozen red lights blink and die like stars going out. The voice cuts out, perhaps wanting to give a command, a final breath of Russian strangled by silence. And it slams into the room like a body.

For a heartbeat, for a breath, you think it’s over.

You hope it’s over.

But his name dies on your tongue when you turn back to him.

Bucky doesn’t speak. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe like a man. He doesn’t look at you - he tracks you, the way a sniper does. As if you’re a piece of intel.

Sam’s voice crackles over the comms. “Hey. We heard something. Everything good over there?”

You can’t answer right away.

Your voice is lost.

Because Bucky Barnes is gone.

And the Winter Soldier is standing in his place.

It takes you a minute to explain your situation and you hear the tremor in Steve’s voice when he tells you they’re on their way.

You try to breathe around the panic growing like thorns in your chest.

You whisper his name, again and again, as if it’s a spell that might pull him back. But the Winter Soldier does not know your voice.

Does not know you.

And when Steve finally rounds the corner, face pale, shield up, Bucky growls.

Low. Subhuman. A warning without words.

“Woah, woah- easy,” Steve says, holding up a hand. He looks at you. “He’s- He’s not gone. We’ll fix this. We can bring him back.”

You don’t know how promising he tries to make this sound.

But Bucky shifts his body, in front of you.

He plants himself between you and everyone else, like a wall, like a weapon.

Like a threat.

No orders. No hesitation. Just instinct.

He scans Steve’s hands. Sam’s gun. Natasha’s eyes.

Every time someone even twitches in your direction, he angles his body tighter around you, metal hand flexing. His breathing is shallow. Sharp.

He has no words. No explanations. He doesn’t seem to need them.

You try to take a step forward, away from his back. He moves with you. You stop. So does he.

“Please,” you whisper. “Bucky. Come back.”

But he doesn’t flinch.

Not for the begging in your voice. Not for the heartbreak in your eyes.

But you know he doesn’t hear you. He only hears the ghosts in his blood. The machine in his brain. The purpose Hydra seared into his bones.

“Alright, this can’t-“ The moment Sam takes a step forward, Bucky moves.

He grabs you. Not roughly, not violently, but fully. As if the air between your bodies has never existed. As if he’s made of magnets and you’re the only thing that ever pulled him north.

His metal arm anchors around your waist, his other hand at your shoulder, your spine, your hip - everywhere, all at once. He places himself between you and the others again and makes sure to keep you there as if you are a holy thing. His breath is ragged. Feral.

“Bucky,” Steve tries. There is something pained in his tone. Also something warning. “Let her go.”

But he doesn’t listen.

Because there is nothing left to listen to.

No more commands. No more codes. No more voice in his ear.

So he seems to have written a new directive into his mind and that is you.

You are the mission now. You are the purpose, the protection, the last thing left when everything else burns.

His hand is wrapped around your wrist so tightly, it makes your breath hitch. But you don’t pull away. You can’t. There is something in his eyes. Something not Bucky but not nothing either.

Not the soldier.

Not the man.

Just this animal of loyalty. Of violence. Of need.

You try.

God, you try.

You speak to him in pieces. In whispers. In words coming from trembling lips and bruised hope.

“Bucky,” you plead.

Soft. Like maybe softness will do it. Like maybe he’ll come back to the sound of your voice wrapped in love instead of command.

But he doesn’t.

And he doesn’t let anyone near you.

Not Steve, who takes one careful step and ends up with a knife lodged in the floor in front of his foot.

Not Sam, who reaches out and gets a warning growl that raises the hairs on your arms.

Not Natasha, who tries to circle behind, quiet as a whisper - and is met with the barrel of Bucky’s gun aimed clean between her eyes.

You frantically call Bucky’s name.

“Hey- easy,” she says, voice low. “Nobody wants to harm your girl, Barnes.”

He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t care.

He tightens his grip on you, fingers locking around your arm like a shackle. You try to find a piece of Bucky still breathing in there.

But all you see is possession.

He steps back into the shadows, pulling you with him, shielding you with his body as if the world is trying to take you and he’s the last wall still standing.

No one sees you now.

Because he won’t let them.

He moves you behind crates. Walls. Corners. Shadows. Always putting something between you and them. Always hiding you. Not out of shame. Not out of fear.

Out of possession.

Out of protection.

Out of a command he gave himself.

You are a mission. A precious object. A singular order sculpted into the ruins of his memory.

You hear Steve’s heavy sigh. His quiet and deep voice. The pain in it. “We need to sedate him.”

The next thing you pick up is the click of a safety releasing.

Bucky’s gun is pointed and ready.

He would kill for you right now.

He would kill them.

All of them.

Within the blink of an eye.

For you.

“No,” you croak out, voice breaking. It feels wrong to call him Bucky. It feels wrong to call him Soldat. “Please don’t! Don’t do this!”

You don’t know if it’s something in your voice or something in your tense stance against his back, but he slowly lowers his gun, slowly turns his head to stare at you.

Empty.

Unreachable.

But somehow not cold.

And then his hand rises. Flesh fingers trace your jaw. So gently it nearly breaks you.

It’s not affection. It’s assessment.

He’s checking. For wounds. For weakness. For threats, you might be hiding beneath your skin.

You breathe as if forgetting how to.

You try to shift. Just a little. Just to look behind him. Just to meet Steve’s eyes, Sam’s, Natasha’s, Clint’s - who finally got his ass here as well.

But Bucky moves. Fast.

A hand around your chin. Tilting your face back toward him.

Eyes narrow. Jaw locks.

You know what it means.

He doesn’t want you to look at them.

He doesn’t want you to speak with them.

He doesn’t want you to think of them.

You are his now.

Because something in his mind burned the world down and left you standing in the wreckage, and he needs something to hold onto. Not just anything. Not just anyone. You.

You try again.

Whispers, again.

“I have to talk to them-”

He shakes his head. Once. Sharp. Final.

“No,” he growls. Not language. Not word. Just a sound scraped from somewhere too deep and too far gone.

You flinch and he feels it.

His grip grows stiff.

Your body goes still.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he doesn’t let you go.

You catch the glint of Steve’s shield out of the corner of your eye.

They haven’t moved in minutes.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

They don’t want to hurt him either. But they will if they have to.

“Don’t,” you murmur. “Don’t come closer. Don’t- don’t try to talk to me, he- he doesn’t want that.”

You hear Sam lower his weapon, just a hair. “We can’t leave you like this.”

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to pull Bucky into your arms and shake him until something clicks and he remembers you. Remembers himself.

But the Winter Soldier only seems to be remembering his duty. Violence shaped into protection.

And right now, that protection looks like isolation.

You. Alone. Tucked behind crates and corners and silence and his broad shoulders.

You speak anyway. Because you have to. Because he’s in there somewhere. Because he might not hear the others, but maybe he can still hear you.

“Bucky,” you speak. Swallow. “They’re not the enemy.”

His hand twitches on your arm.

“They’re your friends.”

He tightens his grip.

“They’re my friends.”

He releases another deep and gravelly sound.

His body is tense, electric, fury held in the cage of his bones.

“Please,” you say. You hate the sound of your own voice now. You sound like you are shattering in slow motion. “You don’t have to protect me from them. You don’t- I’m not-”

You breathe out shakily.

Your lip trembles. Your eyes sting.

Because he’s looking at you as if he would kill the whole world to keep you safe. And he doesn’t even remember who you are.

You press your forehead to his chest. His body doesn’t move.

He’s breathing faster now. His pulse thrums under your cheek.

But he lets you stay there.

That has to be something.

Behind Bucky, someone whispers your name. Carefully. Cautiously. As though if they say it wrong you’ll be ripped out of this moment and Bucky will hunt them all down.

You lift your head.

Bucky sees it.

Sees the way your eyes pull toward Sam’s voice.

Sees the way you’re still trying to hold onto them. Still reaching.

He doesn’t like that.

He hates that.

His hand finds the back of your neck. He pulls you into him, hides your face in his chest. Your shoulders lock. His body shields you like a fortress of flesh and metal and confusion. As if your gaze is a window, and he is closing the shutters.

You are not theirs anymore.

And he will not let you be.

[missadangel]

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 7: Apologize

series masterlist

Chapter Summary: When you call it quits on secrets, it’s funny how more of them spill out. Then Harry comes sprinting after you, begging for forgiveness. I mean, how can you say no to that face? Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 10,5k, ROMANCE, feelings!!! fluffy, rom-com, lust, passion, jealousy, dirty talk, love triangle authors note: Thank you all for your support, asks, comments, reblogs and likes. I appreciate each and every one of you! Love you all!

As the elevator headed up to the penthouse, disbelief hit you hard. How could Harry have lied to you like that? You’d been cleaning his place without even knowing it. It felt like a total betrayal, but honestly, you were more pissed off than anything. Then another thought struck you—those cameras. Had he been watching you this entire time?

“Jerk. Fuckin' asshole.”

“Huh?”

Right, you were in the elevator with Mia, this little girl you just met, both of you heading to the same flat. But it was clear you had a shared goal. The elevator chimed as you reached the penthouse, and Mia stopped you. “I need to do something first.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused.

Mia peeked out of the elevator, checking the area. “The cameras,” she said.

You were caught off guard.

“I can’t let my mom find out I’m here, so I need to shut them down before we go in.”

“Your mom is Maria, right?”

“You know her too? Who even are you?”

With a smirk, you said, “Just think of me as your partner in crime.”

Mia raised an eyebrow. “Partner in crime?”

Leaning in a bit, you said, “I want to take down those damn cameras too.”

She thought about it for a second, narrowed her eyes, and then glanced at your uniform. “So that’s you, huh? My mom mentioned you.”

“What did she say?”

She smirked. “You are the girl who made Uncle Harry look like he’d been hit by a truck.”

You giggled. “I really want to hit him with a truck right now. Because you see, I didn't know it was his apartment when I was cleaning here, he played a trick on me. And as if that wasn't enough, he watched me on the cameras. So what do you say, partner? You want to smash those cameras?”

She frowned. “Smash them? What are you, a vandal?” She took his tablet out of her school bag. “Here, I'll activate the app here, but since we're partners, I need you to turn on the signal first, can you do that?”

You felt like an idiot next to this smart 10-year-old girl. “Okay, tell me what to do, partner.”

“Since you're the cleaning lady who always comes here...”

“Maid.” 

“Yeah, maid, whatever. I need you to go to the control panel on the wall and choose the option to connect to nearby devices.” 

You frowned. “Why can’t I just walk over and hit the button to turn off the camera? There has to be an option for that.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks Einstein, if you do that, the camera's feed will be disabled and Uncle Harry will receive a notification, which could make him suspicious. I’ll just link to the camera from the tablet and adjust its angle. Then there won't be anything to worry about. It's not like Uncle Harry is going to be monitoring the camera constantly during his meetings at work.”

Now you felt even more silly; it was a super clever plan. “Wow, you’re really smart,” you said. She styled her hair like her mom. “I know. Just go do what I say.”

You chuckled softly, “Understood, ma’am.”

She flashed a grin.

As you entered the apartment, you acted casually, avoiding the cameras while strolling down the corridor. “It feels like I’m in a movie,” you whispered to yourself. You quickly connected to the cameras through the control panel’s touch screen and hit "add device." Moments later, Mia's tablets name appeared, confirming the connection.

“Connection complete,” Mia announced as she walked in.

“High five, girl!” you said, extending your hand.

She laughed and high-fived you back. “We make an awesome team. I like you.”

“I like you too, Mia,” you replied with a wink.

Looking at the cameras, you realized Mia was indeed controlling them from her tablet. They were all aimed toward the corners, so as long as you didn’t walk by, the cameras wouldn’t catch you. Mia sprawled out on the couch as if it were her own home and started watching a video on her tablet. Glancing at her knee, you noticed it was slightly bleeding.

“Hey, let me take care of that knee,” you said, heading to grab a first aid kit. When you returned, you sat beside her and cleaned her wound with some alcohol. “Is this because you skipped school today? Is it about your mom?”

She sighed. “Yeah, it’s about her and my dad. They keep saying they’ll get divorced, but nothing changes.”

You paused. That must be tough for her. “I didn’t know; that sounds rough. How do you feel about it?”

She shrugged. “I just want them to figure it out already. I’m so tired of their drama and constant arguing.”

“I get it. If it ever gets to be too much, just call me. My place isn’t nearly as big as this one—barely bigger than the living room—but I’ll make room for you. What do you think?”

Mia smiled with a maturity beyond her years. “Thanks, you’re a really good friend.”

You smiled back and wrapped her knee with some bandages. “Alright, don’t take this off until tomorrow, got it?” 

“Got it, thanks,” he said as he flopped back onto the couch. “You’re mad at him, huh?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m really angry. I just want to break everything in here,” you muttered while glancing around. 

“How mature,” he remarked quietly. 

Feeling a bit embarrassed, you looked at her. “I mean, of course I won’t actually do that.” 

“My mom did,” she replied, surprisingly calm. “She broke everything in Dad’s office. You adults can be super childish sometimes, and then want us to act like we’re grown-ups.” 

You let out a nervous laugh. “You’re not wrong; we can be pretty childish about things.” 

“Just talk it out and figure it out,” she said.

You grabbed the first aid kit and stood up. “What if I’m so mad at him that I don’t even want to talk?”

She smiled. “I don’t think you are.” You raised an eyebrow. “Well, I hope you are not, because I don’t want him to be upset.” She was messing with something on her tablet.

You loved how she was just like her mom, always keeping an eye on Harry. “I don’t want to upset him, honey, but I have to make him eat a little humble pie, okay?”

“But you’ll forgive him later, right?” she asked with hope in her voice.

“Of course, I love him,” you said softly.

“Awesome,” she said, clearly happy, and went back to playing with the tablet.

“Well, I guess I should get back to my chores,” you said, heading into the kitchen to start cleaning up.

“What's up?”

Oliver stepped into his office to find Harry staring at his tablet with a frown.

“There’s something wrong with the cameras. They won’t rotate and there’s no sound coming through. Do you think there's a bug in the app?”

“Maybe your girlfriend got fed up with the cameras and sabotaged them,” he quipped, taking a closer look. “Let me see.”

“I can't blame her,” Harry replied, guilt creeping in.

Oliver noticed Harry’s troubled look as he fiddled with the app. “Seriously, when are you going to tell her?”

“I’m planning to do it tonight,” Harry said with determination. “I just couldn’t find the right moment this morning.”

At that moment, Maria walked into the office. “Harry, I'm seriously considering taking that tablet away from you. You’ve been messing with it more than Mia. I worked really hard to convince them—it’s not worth ruining the meeting over.”

“He was just worried he couldn’t see his girlfriend on the camera,” Oliver muttered.

Harry shot him a glare.

“Okay, that’s enough. I’m calling her right now and telling her everything,” Maria said, pulling out her phone.

Harry jumped up and grabbed the phone from her hand. “Stay out of it. I’ll handle this.”

Just then, her phone began to ring. “School,” Harry said, handing her phone back to Maria.

Maria picked up immediately. “Hello? Yes, this is her mom.”

Harry glanced at Oliver. “Have you fixed it yet?”

“Nope, it’s weird. It’s like someone else has logged into the cameras on their phone and taken over.”

“What did you just say?”

They both turned to Maria, who looked concerned. “Okay,” she said, hanging up.

Harry frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Mia,” Maria said as she dialed another number. “Her teacher said she didn’t show up to school today. Come on, pick up the damn phone.” But Maria’s face dropped when Mia's dad said he hadn’t seen her either.

“Or perhaps she went back home,” Oliver added.

“We’ll find out now,” Maria said, pulling up an app on her phone.

Harry moved closer to her. “What are you doing?”

“Tracking Mia with a smartwatch app,” she said, waiting for the app to locate her. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll try the app that tracks her phone.”

“Geez, Maria. Have you planted a bug on her, too?” Oliver said with a smirk.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she did,” Harry scoffed.

“You’ll understand when you become parents,” Maria replied, giving them a pointed look.

“Hopefully not for a long time,” Oliver said.

Harry chuckled at the idea.

“There! I’ve got it,” Maria said, her eyes widening. “Oh no. Harry, you need to see this,” she said, showing him her phone screen.

Harry froze, staring at the location the app found. “No…Fuck...”

Oliver leaned over to take a look. “Damn, this is your apartment.”

Cleaning duty today felt tougher than usual. Ever since you discovered it was Harry’s house, things had started to feel different, especially now that you were technically his girlfriend. It made you feel a bit like a housewife, which was both thrilling and painful at the same time. You still needed answers, as you felt genuinely hurt. But your love for him was so strong—what could you really do? Deep down, you weren’t sure how long you could cling to your anger. With your pride and stubbornness tossed aside, you weren’t thinking straight anymore, so you chose to let it go for now.

As you walked through the hallway with the cleaning bucket, your eyes landed on that door—the locked door.

The secret room.

What was Harry hiding behind it? There were no keys in sight, so how would you ever get it open?

Did Mia know about this room?

When you walked in to check on her, her eyes were closed; was she asleep? Just as you turned to slip out quietly, you caught a hint of a muffled sound—no, she was crying.

“Mia? Are you okay?”

She sniffled and nodded, but kept her eyes shut. You moved to sit beside her on the couch. “Hey, what’s wrong, honey?”

“Nothing... just nothing.”

You gently patted her head. “You sure?  You can tell me. I'll keep it between us, I promise.”

“My mom and dad... I hate them, especially my mom. They decided to get divorced without even consulting me. I don’t want them to split up, but they didn’t even ask how I feel. They won’t love me anymore, and they’re going to be busier with their work.”

“Shh, don’t think like that. Of course, they’ll still love you. They’re your parents, and their love for you will never fade, I assure you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because a mother’s love for her child is unconditional; it can’t just vanish. You're not the reason they're breaking up, I swear. Sometimes, even if adults love each other, things get messy, and splitting up is the only way to handle it. It might seem like the end, but it can also lead to something better.”

“Really?” she murmured, her eyelids growing heavy.

“Absolutely, trust me. You’re lucky to have both your mom and dad around; I’m sure they’ll take care of you, even if things change. I kind of envy you because I lost my mom, and I'll never get the chance to tell her how much I miss her. I wish she were still alive. As for my dad... it feels like he doesn’t care about me—he doesn’t even bother to call, you know?” Your voice cracked slightly. “But your mom and dad are with you and must have been searching for you all morning, haven’t they, Mia? I’m sure they are worried—”

Looking down, you saw that she had fallen asleep, holding your hand tightly. A smile crossed your face as you wrapped your other arm around her. Suddenly, you felt tired too, and before you knew it, you drifted off beside her.

“Mia? Sweetie?” Maria called out for her daughter.

You blinked awake, realizing Harry’s face was mere inches from yours, and his hand was gently resting on your cheek. You stared at him for a moment before pushing his hand away and getting off the couch.

How did you even fall asleep?

Mia stirred and rubbed her eyes. “Mom?”

“What happened to your knee?” Maria's voice rang out.

“It’s nothing, just a little scrape. I fell in the street, and she helped me clean and bandage it.” She pointed to you.

All eyes turned to you, but you avoided their gazes. You forced a smile at Mia and quickly looked away. “I think it’s time for me to go. I hope you enjoyed my service, Mr. Castillo,” you said, trying to sound casual as you made your way to the door.

Oliver stood by the entryway, looking guilty.

“Wait,” Harry called after you. Just then, Maria touched your shoulder.

“Thank you. I’m so relieved that Mia has been with you all day,” she said, pulling you into a hug that took you by surprise.

“You’re welcome, she’s a very smart girl,” you replied, feeling a bit evasive.

She beamed at you, and you offered a smile back, though it felt awkward given the situation.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Harry approached you from behind, his voice soft but insistent.

You turned to face him. “With whom? With your girlfriend? Or with your maid-in?”

Harry let out a troubled sigh, his frustration evident as he glared at you. You turned away again. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you said, stepping closer to the door.

Maria nudged Harry from behind, encouraging him to move. He stepped in front of you, causing you to halt abruptly.

“How can you say there’s nothing to talk about? There’s plenty,” he insisted, moving closer and locking eyes with you.

You turned your head away again. “Were you trying to get revenge? If you wanted to talk, you should have spoken up sooner.”

“Revenge?” he replied, confused.

“So because I lied to you from the start and deceived you, this was your way of getting back at me?”

“I would never, never do that,” he shook his head, his expression earnest.

“Is it out of pity then?”

His brown eyes darkened with frustration. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Then why, Harry? Why did you hire me for this job without giving me a heads-up? You totally deceived me. Did you actually enjoy watching me on camera the whole time?”

“I’m sorry. I felt responsible because you were unemployed because of me, and I wanted to help—”

“It wasn’t because of you! Besides, I could have found a job myself. You didn’t need to use your money or power. Did you really think I would feel better about this? Right now, I just feel like a complete idiot. How could you do this to me?”

Maria took Mia’s hand and started to leave. “You two talk it out; we’ll give you some space, come on, Ollie.”

“No, there’s nothing left to say,” you snapped angrily.

"But you'll forgive him later, won't you?" 

"Of course, I love him." 

Oh no, that sounds just like what you told Mia earlier.

Did she record you? 

"Mia!" you complained, glancing at her.

She just shrugged, holding her tablet. "Sorry, my finger slipped."

"That's my girl," Mia said with a giggle, as she high-fived her. 

Oliver chuckled, and Harry smiled. 

But you narrowed your eyes at them, feeling furious. 

"Oops, we should get going," she said to her mother. They quickly headed for the elevator, leaving you alone with Harry.

But before you could go after them, Harry came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off your feet.

“What are you doing? Harry! Put me down!” 

“Nope. You're going to listen, sweetheart. No more running away.” 

“Let go!” you protested, but he refused to budge. 

 He carried you to the couch and set you down next to him, holding your hands tightly, but you turned your head away. 

“Baby, please forgive me. I tried to explain before, but I just couldn’t find the right words. I thought helping you find a job would make you happy. I never meant to offend or hurt you; please believe that.” 

“Did it have to be your house?” you grumbled. 

“Isn’t this better than being at someone else's place?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

His hand trembled as he sighed. “I mean, I hate this too. It hurts to see you so exhausted, to watch you work so hard, and I can’t stand the thought of your beautiful hands being worn down in those cleaning gloves. I want to kiss those lovely fingers, to cherish them.” 

As he began to kiss your fingers one by one, your heart raced. You almost let your guard down, almost kissed him.

Almost.

“Harry,” you whispered. “This is my job, and—” 

“Don’t,” he interjected, frustration evident in his voice. “Can’t you just skip the cleaning? You can keep working with Chef Bruno, but please, no more cleaning.” 

“Is it because you don’t want to introduce your girlfriend in that way?” 

“No, what I mean is—” 

You stood up, your frustration boiling over. “I’m sorry, but this is my life. I have no problem introducing you to my friends, but it seems you hesitate to do the same. I can’t change who I am.” 

He rose to his feet as well. “I don’t know how we ended up here. I never intended for this to happen. Listen-” 

“Harry, you listen. I understand your intentions, and I appreciate them, but I wish you had considered how I might feel in all of this. And I can't do this if...” 

“Wait a minute, why do I feel like you’re giving a breakup speech?” 

“Because I am,” you said, tears brimming in your eyes. 

“No, no, no, don’t do that.” He moved closer, but you took a step back and raised your hand. 

“We agreed there would be no secrets between us, but we couldn’t even manage that. How can our relationship develop from here?” 

“There are no secrets left now that everything is out in the open,” he said, trying to smile. You crossed your arms and bit your lip, acknowledging his point. Then he drew nearer and wrapped his arms around you.

“I promise, baby, there will never be any secrets between us again, I swear,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his breath soft and tender. “Please don’t leave me.” The plea struck deep within you, twisting like a knife. How could you even entertain such a thought? The very idea of parting from him was unbearable, a wound that throbbed in your chest and brought stinging tears to your eyes. It was the last thing you wanted—a painful notion that sent ripples of hurt through your heart.

In that moment, you set aside all other emotions and surrendered to the warmth of his embrace, allowing yourself to rest your head on his chest for a while.

“What about that locked room?” you asked then, glancing toward it, wiping your tears meanwhile. “I wonder what you’re hiding behind that door.” 

A sly grin crept across his face. “Do you want to see it? But promise me that once you see what’s inside, you’ll tell me you love me again, and you won’t leave me. Deal?” 

“It all depends on what’s in there.” 

He chuckled, then walked into the bedroom, still holding your hand. Nervousness washed over you as you tried to pull your hand back. 

“Relax, I’m not trying to lure you into bed,” he laughed. “At least, not right now.” 

“You wish,” you grunted. 

He chuckled as he opened the nightstand drawer. “Funny. You were practically begging me last night. I can still hear you meowing.” 

Your cheeks flushed. “I don’t remember any of that,” you lied. 

He pulled out a box from the drawer and took out a key. “I have the scars on my back to prove it, kitten,” he teased. 

Your face was burning now, as red as a tomato. “Stop it and do what you need to do.” 

Chuckling, he held up the key, “Here it is; come on,” taking your hand again. 

Together, you stood in front of the locked door. Harry inserted the key into the lock and paused to look at you. “Are you ready, baby? The big secret is about to be revealed.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Stop showing off and open the damn door,” you muttered. 

Grinning, he unlocked the door and stepped back, inviting you in with his hand.

You hesitated before stepping into the room, shocked at what you saw. 

To your left stood a massive floor-to-ceiling wardrobe filled with clothes, and to your right was a complete wardrobe of bags and shoes. In the center was an elegant dressing table. Harry slid open the wardrobe, revealing all the clothes and shoes he had ever bought you, carefully arranged. He embraced you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and kissing your cheek. “It’s all yours. This room is for you. I was waiting for you to say yes to me before I revealed it to you.  I kept it locked and tried to stay away, but I found it hard to resist many times,” he whispered, nuzzling along the curve of your neck.

You were rendered speechless, taken aback. Then you noticed a jewelry box on the dresser. “Isn’t that the earring?” You walked over, picked it up, and examined it closely. “Have you had this all along?” 

“Oops, looks like another secret is out,” he said with a chuckle. 

You shot him a pointed look. “You really. Why didn’t you say anything when I told you I would pay you back?” 

“Because you broke my heart,” he replied softly. “You told me you never wanted to see me again, so I thought the earring would be a good excuse to get you to meet me.” 

“You're unbelievable,” you shot back, your irritation surfacing. 

“What about you?” he countered, but then his expression softened as he noticed the look on your face. “I love you,” he confessed, his lips forming the word like an apology. 

Damn he was so cute.

His adorableness made you giggle despite yourself. 

“You didn’t say it again.” 

“Say what?” 

“Do you want me to make you say it? Just like last night,” he whispered, leaning in close. “You remember how well that turned out.” His lips brushed against your earlobe as his hand slowly slipped down, hovering dangerously close to your thigh. Your reaction was instinctive; you caught his hand. However, his lips found their way to your neck, and you couldn't help but bite your lower lip and roll your eyes. “Harry, stop.” 

“I know you want me, baby; don’t try to deny it,” he purred, his voice low and teasing. 

“No, you’re wrong,” you replied, almost breathless. 

“Then why are you holding my hand so tightly?” he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips. 

You withdrew your hand quickly, shocked at your own reaction.

What the fuck?

When did this escalate?

You frowned at his chuckle. “I really hate you,” you whined, though your irritation was half-hearted. 

“No, you don't,” he laughed, clearly enjoying the banter. 

“Well, I really like this room, but that doesn’t mean I forgive you. And it definitely doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump into bed with you,” you declared stubbornly. 

“Then what do I need to do to win your forgiveness? I’ll do anything,” he said, voice dripping with seduction.

The look he gave you was enough to make you avert your gaze. 

“I don’t know; I need to think,” you said, fighting back a giggle. “But I have to go now—I told Bruno I would head to the hotel early.” You turned to leave the room. 

He followed right behind you. “I’ll give you a ride.” 

You responded without looking back. “Well, if you’re that eager.”

With a smile, he followed you behind as you walked toward the elevator.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” Harry asked again as he parked the car in front of the hotel.

“You just asked me that five minutes ago."

“I’ll keep asking until you say you forgive me,” he replied, shutting off the engine.

You opened the door and turned to him. “At least let me think it over.”

He took your hand, pulled you closer, and placed a quick kiss on your cheek. “Whatever you say, kitty. Good luck at work.”

“Thanks for the ride,” you said with a faint smile, stepping out and closing the door behind you.

As you made your way to the hotel entrance, Harry watched you from the driver’s seat. Just then, you spotted Alan getting out of his own car, heading your way.

“Good evening,” he greeted you.

You turned and smiled, “Good evening, Mr. Finnegan.”

“Come on, call me Alan already, will you?”

Harry, watching from a distance, muttered, “Asshole.” Trying to keep his cool, he stepped out of the car and approached you two. “Baby,” he called out, and before you could react, he spun you around and kissed you so passionately that it left you breathless. Pulling back, he glanced at Alan and added, “I almost took off without kissing my girlfriend goodbye.” The way he said “girlfriend” caught his attention and everyone around the street.

Alan’s expression darkened.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, caught off-guard by how intimate the kiss had been.

“Anyway, I should be on my way,” he said.

"Yeah, you do that," you said, squinting at him and gesturing for him to leave.

“Good night, Finnegan,” Harry said, getting into his car, clearly amused by Alan's reaction.

Shaking your head at Harry, you noticed Alan squinting at him, clearly unamused. “I didn’t realize you were with him,” Alan said as he walked inside.

“Well, things are a bit complicated,” you murmured.

“Not surprising, things always get messy with Castillo,” Alan muttered quietly. 

“Excuse me?”

“I just... You really should think twice about being with him,” he warned lightly.

“Alan, it’s—”

“Anyway, I suppose my employees’ personal lives are none of my business,” he said with a smirk, heading toward the elevator.

What just happened?

Why had he said that?

And why was he suddenly in a good mood?

You really should have asked Harry about the weird thing between them, but now you had to focus—you had a kitchen to get to.

Things were really hectic in the kitchen, and as if that weren’t enough, Alan was having a business lunch in the dining room and asked you to make some desserts just for him. As you handed off the treats to the waitstaff, he called you over and praised your work. If he wasn’t your boss, you might have said something about his overwhelming attention, but you figured it was best to keep quiet until your internship was over. Then, just when you thought the day couldn’t get any worse, Melanie called.

“What do you want?” you asked, annoyed.

“What do I want? I need you to talk to my dad, and I want you to do it right now, like you promised!”

“I will, but I've been super busy and haven’t had time yet.”

“Well, it’s on you. If my dad doesn’t let me come back home, I’ll just crash at your place.”

“Wait, what? You called my house a disgusting little flat. Aren’t you with Nate? Can’t he help you out?”

“Don’t even mention that jerk!”

“Did you two break up already? Wow, that was quick, even for you.”

“Just drop it, okay? It’s none of your business. Talk to my dad tomorrow night or I’ll make your life miserable!”

“As if you weren’t already a pain in my ass!” you shot back and hung up in frustration. As you walked toward the exit, muttering under your breath, someone called out from behind.

Ugh, it was Alan again.

“Are you okay? You sounded like you were venting at someone on the phone,” he said, wearing that annoying smile.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“Well, if you did it, they probably deserved it,” he said, grinning.

Just when you thought it was over, you turned to leave but almost bumped into the revolving door. Alan grabbed your arm, pulling you back.

“Watch out!” he said.

What the hell?

You could’ve easily dodged the door; you weren't that clumsy. His other arm wrapped around you, too.

“Thanks, but I’m fine,” you said, carefully pushing his hand away. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” he replied, watching you walk away as you stormed out. Your phone buzzed again, but you ignored it; you weren’t in the mood for more of Melanie’s drama.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps behind you and turned to see Harry.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? Are you okay?” he asked, and just seeing him made you feel so much better.

“Yeah, sorry, thought it was Melanie,” you said, spotting the bouquet of pink roses he was holding.

“Is she still being a pain?”

“Forget about her; I’ll handle it. Are those for me?” you asked, trying to hide your smile.

“Of course they are, beautiful,” he said, handing you the flowers.

“Thanks,” you said, taking a whiff of the roses.

“Come on, let’s get to the car.”

As you walked together, he leaned closer. “Am I forgiven?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not in a day, ol'man.”

Harry sighed and opened the back door for you. “So, if I asked you to spend the night at my apartment instead of going home, you wouldn’t consider it?”

Ah, damn...

Those puppy-dog eyes and dangerously tempting lips made it hard to say no, but you somehow managed to act like you weren't interested, thanks to your stubbornness.

And the oscar goes to...

“N-no, sorry, I need to check on Zoe. She’s still home alone,” you stammered.

He sighed again and closed the door after you settled in the car.

“Hey, Ollie,” you said while he was chilling in the driver’s seat.

“Hey, girl! How’s it going? You two good now?”

“We’re good, right, baby?” Harry said, sitting next to you.

“Kind of,” you muttered, still eyeing the roses in your lap.

“Kind of?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged, teasing him.

“Come on, really? Okay, I’m taking you on a date tomorrow night, and we’re going to sort everything out,” Harry grumbled.

“Uh-oh,” Oliver chimed in as he drove.

You squinted at Harry. “If you ask me with that tone, you might be going on that date alone.”

“Okay, sorry,” he said with a sigh. "Would you like to accompany me for dinner tomorrow night, lovely lady?"

You giggled but kept your expression cool. “Um, let me check my calendar first.”

Oliver chuckled.

Harry squinted again.

“Alright, fine. But I need to have a quick chat with Jack tomorrow. If he agrees, you can pick me up at the hotel again.”

He smiled widely taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. “As you wish, darling.”

As you stepped into the apartment, the sweet scent of the bouquet Harry had given you lingered in the air, enveloping you until you finally reached your place with the flowers cradled in your arms. When you opened the door and walked inside, you were taken aback by the scene in front of you.

“Oh sweet Jesus!”

John and Zoe were on the couch, wrapped up in a passionate kiss—thankfully, they were fully dressed. The moment they noticed you, they pulled apart, and John shot up from the couch, his face a canvas of embarrassment.

But you felt even more embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry, guys, I, uh…”

“No, no, no, I’m so sorry!” John stuttered, quickly averting his gaze, adjusting his hair.

“Awkward,” Zoe murmured, covering her mouth in surprise. “I thought you were with your boyfriend,” she added, glancing at you and the bouquet still in your hands.

“Well, yeah… I mean, no, I wasn’t. It’s a long story.”

“I’d better be going. Bye, girls. Good night,” John said, grabbing his jacket and making a hasty exit.

Once the door closed behind him, you turned back to Zoe. "Jesus, girl, what just happened?"

Zoe huffed in disbelief. "I have no idea! He helped me change my bandage, touched my leg and then… suddenly we kissed. It was so strange, but it felt amazing."

“Strange”? You seemed pretty into it."

“It might have turned into something really hot if you hadn’t barged in,” she replied with a hint of annoyance.

“Sue me,” you muttered, placing the flowers in a vase on the table.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon. You were with him last night, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, it’s a long story.”

“Still not officially together? Seriously, get your shit together already. What’s going on with you two?”

You let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know. Just when I think things are finally going well, something messes it all up, and I'm left feeling hurt again…”

“Uh-oh, spill everything.”

"Okay, do you want something cold to drink?"

"Yes, please! I’m dying of heat over here."

You giggled as you made your way to the fridge. “So if I had come in five minutes later, would you have been completely undressed? Good thing I didn’t.”

“You're so bad,” she laughed.

You began the day with that text that pinged on your phone the moment you woke up, that familiar message from the person you had been longing to hear from, the one you had been waiting for eagerly.

Morning, kitten. The sun is shining, the birds are singing— Isn't it the perfect day to make you feel like forgiving?

Was he rhyming?

He was really good at it or bad not sure, but he would have to try a little harder.

Hmm. I'm not sure if today is the day. You'll know for sure tonight, doll. I'll make you. Hmm, how ambitious. Always I am.

After you changed, you stepped into the living room and saw Zoe was getting ready.

“Where are you off to?”

“To the hospital to get my ankle checked.”

“Do you want some company?”

“John will,” she replied with a cheeky smile. “Besides, you’ll be off on your date with Harry tonight, right?”

Your cheeks warmed at the thought. “Well, yes, maybe.”

“I’m planning to invite John over for dinner, and he’d better come clean about something tonight.”

“Oh, I see, you’re trying to get rid of me, huh?”

"Come on, he shares an apartment with three guys; it’s more convenient for us to be here."

“Okay, don’t worry, I won’t crash tonight,” you replied with a grin, thoughts drifting to Harry’s bedroom.  

“Awesome!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.  

“Wow, you could be a bit less eager about this.”

“Sorry, but I can’t help it, I’m in love,” she said, giggling.  

“Apology accepted,” you responded, grabbed your bag, and headed out the door. Just then, you bumped into John in the hallway. “Hey."

“Hey there. How’s work treating you?”

"Good. Listen, John, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what’s up?"

"Do you have feelings for Zoe?"

"Yes, she’s a wonderful person, and cute too," he said, smiling.

He was definitely into her.

“I mean, I thought there was something going on between you and that woman Lucy at the wedding. I need to know if you really like Zoe.”

"Lucy is just my childhood friend and ex. But, don't you know her already?"

"I only know she's Alan's girlfriend and a matchmaker."

John crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Surprised that Castillo hasn’t told you about her."

“What’s there to tell?”

John let out a troubled sigh. “You know, I’m not sure if it’s a good time for me to drop this on you, but those two were actually together a few years ago.”

Damn, you were worried about this. "So that’s why," you murmured after a brief pause.  

“Listen, he will share the details with you, but Lucy isn't like you or Zoe. She deceived both me and Castillo, leaving us heartbroken in the end. I can't hold a grudge against her because we share this strange bond, but I promise you, I’ll never hurt Zoe because of this."

You nodded. "It better stay that way, John. You should tell her as soon as possible, or I will," you said. After receiving a nod from him, you turned and headed down the stairs to leave the building.

All day long, as you worked, your thoughts kept drifting back to Lucy. You regretted asking John about her. It wasn’t just that Harry hadn’t mentioned her—after all, that was fine considering the incident had happened years ago. What truly unnerved you was the possibility of her showing up at any moment, especially as Alan's girlfriend. It felt like trouble was just around the corner, and you couldn’t shake that feeling. Alan himself was another source of tension; his frequent encounters with you and his growing interest were weighing heavily on your mind. You knew deep down that sooner or later, things were bound to get complicated.

You really hoped this internship would wrap up soon, and that Chef Bruno would write you a glowing letter of recommendation. Yet, with the fair approaching and the day ticking down, you had to press on through the culinary internship.

Earlier, you'd called Jack, and he had already said he wanted to meet. As you waited at the table, you spotted him approaching and stood up to greet him. "Thanks for taking the time to meet me here," you said, shaking Jack's hand as he took a seat across from you.

"Of course, no problem," he replied, settling into his seat.

"Jack, about Melanie—"

"Save your breath, honey. I’m not here for her."

You were taken aback. "What do you mean? I thought that’s why you came—"

He pulled out a bunch of newspapers and magazines from his bag and dropped them on the table with a bang, making the glasses and plates rattle.

Your eyes went wide. “What’s all this?”

“Why don’t you check for yourself?”

Following his lead, you picked up the top magazine, and your heart sank at the sight of your own image on the cover. Someone had captured a photo of you and Harry dancing at the wedding from a distance.

Who is the mystery girl dancing with famous businessman Harry Castillo? the headline read.

You quickly grabbed another magazine, revealing a picture of you and Melanie.

Get ready for a surprising twist! How did the maid in Melanie Johnson's mansion pretend to be her and trap a famous billionaire?

“Ugh, what a bunch of vultures,” you muttered, shaking your head.

As you continued flipping through the articles, the headlines turned more shocking. Words like "gold digger," "sneaky housekeeper," and "fortune hunter" jumped out at you.

"That's what I was warning you about," Jack said. "I don't want you to worry, though—none of these magazines have been printed yet. These are all test editions. We managed to confiscate them before they went into mass production, and Harry’s assistant has ensured the online stories have been taken down."

You looked up at him, relief washing over you. "Thank you, Jack."

"You don’t need to thank me for dealing with the news, which includes Melanie; I did that for my own reasons. But regarding the rest..." He pointed to the magazine cover with your dancing picture. "This is the thing I wanted to discuss. I see you as a daughter, so take this advice from a father to his daughter: end whatever is happening between you and Harry before it spirals out of control. If this keeps up, there’ll be more stories about you, people will dig into your past, and in the end, it’s you who’ll get hurt. Do you understand?"

You sighed. "Jack, I honestly get what you’re saying, and I do appreciate it. But there's nothing in my past or family that I’m worried about. Gossip like this finds someone new to focus on every day; it could just as easily be me one day and someone else the next."

He paused for a moment, then nodded slowly. "So, it appears there's something more between you two than I realized. You've made up your mind. Well, it's your life, after all. I just hope you don’t wind up hurt and come to regret this decision.”

"Jack."

You both turned your heads, and damn it was—Alan. He usually didn’t come to the hotel on Saturday nights, but today was clearly an exception.

Of course.

Jack stood up to shake his hand. "Alan."

"How are you? Didn’t see you at the wedding."

"I was in D.C.," Jack replied. Just then, his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and answered. Alan looked at you with a smile, and you returned it.

Damn, he might have noticed the magazines on the table, you thought.

"Sorry, I’ve got to leave," Jack said suddenly.

You stood up, worry creeping in. "Is everything okay?"

"Melanie," he hissed, frustration clear in his voice. "She ran away from home."

"What do you mean she ran away? Or have you been keeping her locked up?" Your voice rose higher than you meant it to.

You couldn't shake off the memory of that one time Jack had locked her in her room, and it had ended poorly. A shudder ran through you at the thought.

"I had no choice. I thought she’d see reason and come to her senses, but apparently, I was wrong."

"Jack, are you out of your mind? Do you really not know your daughter? Locking her up isn’t the solution!"

Heads in the dining room turned toward you.

"You’re right. I messed up this time, but I couldn’t let her keep hanging out with that playboy Nate."

"I can’t say I blame you for that," you replied quietly.

"Anyway, I really have to go. Catch you later, Alan."

"See you, Jack."

As Jack strolled away, casting a backward glance, a heavy sadness settled in your chest. Melanie hadn't matured much and was acting like a nightmare. Despite his faults, Jack was a good father—if only he showed a little more genuine care to his daughter more than his work.

"Sounds like Melanie’s giving Jack a rough time," Alan said, still holding onto that smile.

"Yeah, she’s a bit immature," you admitted quietly.

To your surprise, Alan looked around the table and sat down in Jack’s vacated chair.

"Have a seat; your dessert's still waiting."

You did your best to keep it together and not roll your eyes. "Thanks, but I really need to go—"

"Just give me five minutes, alright?" he said, leaning in a bit closer.

You glanced at your watch, thinking about how Harry would be picking you up in about an hour. With a sigh, you plopped back down. "Fine."

"Thanks," he said, adjusting his suit jacket and settling in. "I know what happened here last time." You looked at him in surprise; this wasn't what you expected. "About what Lucy did..." He paused and took a breath. "I want to say sorry on her behalf."

Your eyes widened. “Alan, it’s okay. But if you start treating me differently because of her, it will only make her dislike me more. Plus, this kind of stuff probably isn't over yet."

“It won’t happen again,” he stated firmly. “I won’t allow it in my hotel. I broke up with her, and I doubt she will be coming back here.”

“That can’t be the only reason you decided to break up with her, right?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No, but it played a part. It’s disgraceful to have such disrespect shown here, especially towards our customers. I was wrong about her; she’s not the kind and innocent person I thought she was.”

"I’m sorry," you said, your tone a touch insincere.

"Not me," he replied with a grin. "I’m kind of relieved."

What was that supposed to mean?

A nagging feeling grew as you sensed he was gearing up to say something you wouldn’t like.

"One of the reasons I broke up was because of a question she asked me."

Oh, please, let this be over.

"She wanted to know if I had feelings for you."

You fought to maintain a neutral expression.

Don't say that, please don't.

"I couldn't answer her because, honestly, I actually have feelings for you that I didn't realize until now."

That was more than you could handle.

"Alan, do you even realize what you’re saying?"

"Yes, I’m fully aware."

You sighed deeply. "Maybe you’re mistaken," you suggested, looking away and starting to shake your foot nervously.

"No, I absolutely know how I feel now. I like you." He reached across the table and took your hand, catching you off guard.

You quickly pulled away. "Alan, I’m with Harry."

"You mentioned before that things were complicated between you two," he said, casually picking up one of the magazines.

"That doesn’t mean I don’t love him," you shot back, your voice sharp.

His serious expression told you he wasn’t taking it lightly.

You stood up, feeling a surge of urgency. "Look, Alan, whatever you’re feeling, you need to let it go, or I won’t be able to stay here."

"Are you really going to quit your internship?"

"If I have to, yes," you affirmed.

"Alright, I won’t pressure you unless you come to me yourself."

Surprise and annoyance washed over you. "That’s not going to happen."

He leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile on his face. "Don’t be so sure; life has a funny way of surprising us.”

What the fuck?

Your phone started ringing, and you just held it in your hand without answering as you rushed out of the dining room, still shaken by what had just happened. It was Nate calling, so you definitely weren't picking up; you quickly silenced your phone. Taking a deep breath, you let it all go and shifted your focus to getting ready for your date. Harry had offered to buy you a dress again earlier, but you turned him down. This date was meant to feel like a fresh start, a first date of sorts, and you wanted to treat yourself to the entire process.

During lunch break, you popped into one of those upscale department stores and slipped into the black, shimmering backless dress you had chosen—probably the priciest dress you had ever bought, costing almost four months' salary. You tried to keep a positive mindset; nothing would ruin tonight. The expensive Birman black shoes that Melanie had given you the night before matches perfectly with the dress. Just as you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup, your phone rang again, but your smile quickly faded when you glanced at the screen.

It wasn’t Harry.

Seeing "Trouble" light up the screen only added to your anxiety.

No way were you picking up.

The phone could ring its heart out. When it rang again as you reached for your red lipstick—perfectly matching your nails—you pushed on, determined to finish your look.

However, the incessant ringing soon got on your nerves, and you finally answered, ready to give Melanie a piece of your mind. “Look, I can’t deal with your drama right now—”

“It’s me, Garry.”

You could barely hear him over the loud music in the background. “Garry? What are you doing on Melanie’s phone? And where in the world are you?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on her for a while; she’s completely wasted, and I don’t know how to handle this. Please, I need your help.”

“Look, I have a very important date tonight—”

“And it seems we have our new volunteer dancer!” a woman’s voice chimed in, followed by masculine cheers and applause.

Oh man.

“Don’t tell me you’re at a strip club!”

“You just heard it. I’ll try to drag her out of here, but you need to hurry. I’ll send you the location.” Garry hung up before you could say anything. “Garry! Hold on—what the hell! What kind of night is this?” you exclaimed, quickly changing up your outfit and bolting out of the room.

When the taxi driver brought you in front of the strip club, you were cursing inside, nervous and angry. It was too much, the strip club was too much, even for her. How could she be so thoughtless and reckless?

At the entrance to the door, unfortunately, everyone was staring at you, including the women.

Oh that's right, you were all dressed up, probably looked breathtaking, but it wasn't to come here, damn it, it was to meet your boyfriend. 

Things got even worse when you entered the club. You've never been in a club like this before, it wasn't like other nightclubs.

You're thinking, No shit, I wish it was.

The music was blaring, and two girls were dancing on stage. Some men were cheering and staring at you.

Great.

Ignoring the gazes, you spotted Garry and made your way to him. However, just like the other guys, he seemed fixated on the girls performing. “Hey!” you nudged him.

“Oh you're here? Wow girl, you look great, but I wish you hadn't come here wearing a dress like this.” he said, looking around at the men.

“I couldn't change because you called me while I was getting ready for my date.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, but Melanie's gone crazy.”

“Where is she?”

“She was going on stage and tripped and fell, I was tried to check her but the women wouldn't let me in. That's why I called you.”

“Goddamn it,” you grumbled, shoving your purse at him. “Hold this, I’ll go get her, and then we’ll all head to the car together, okay?”

“Got it. I’ll wait here.”

Just as you left, Garry couldn’t help himself when your phone started ringing non-stop. He didn’t think to check your purse without asking, but when it rang like crazy, he finally picked it up. “Yeah?”

Harry nearly wrecked his car when he heard a guy’s voice on the other end. “Who the hell are you? Why are you answering my girlfriend’s phone?”

“Mr. Castillo, you probably don’t remember me, but I’m Mr. Johnson's driver.”

“Wait, is that club music I hear? Where is she?”

“We're at the strip club. It’s kind of complicated.”

Harry was stunned and slammed on the brakes, making the tires screech on the road. The car behind him honked and yelled, but he didn’t care. “Just tell me where the club is!”

"Melanie, I swear to God, if you don't come with me right now, I'll drag you out of here by yanking your hair if I have to! I'll do it, believe me, I will!"

“Not until Nate gets here!” she snapped.

The girl was not only drunk but also trying to climb onto the stage. You were tugging at her from behind the curtain, hoping Garry could lend a hand, but she was putting up a fight.

“Hey, you two, get lost! Stay clear of the stage!” one of the dancers hissed at you.

“I'm not interested; as you see, I'm trying to get her out of here!” you retorted, still struggling to pull Melanie back.

“No! I’m going up there! I paid for it!” Melanie shouted defiantly.

“What did you just say?” you exclaimed, bewildered. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Leave them alone, girls,” an older woman chimed in, casting a knowing glance at you. “The guys who wanted you on stage shelled out a lot of cash,” she said with a sly smile.

Melanie laughed. “See? They’re dying to see me! Nate needs to get over here right now, call him!”

“It wasn’t for you,” the woman replied, eyes darting between Melanie and you. She surveyed you up and down, a smirk playing on her lips. “They paid for you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “I’m not a dancer or stripper.”

“That doesn’t matter, darling. You look fantastic. I could even give you half the take.”

“What the fuck? You promised me that I’d go on stage! Not her!”

You narrowed your eyes and glared at Melanie. “No one’s going up there!” you shouted firmly.

“Enough with this! Girls,” the woman called out, and the two dancers approached you, trying to take off your jacket.

“Hey! Get your hands off me! What do you think you’re doing?” you exclaimed, wrestling against them.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t overreact. Just trust yourself,” she replied, grabbing your wrist. But before she could pull you away, someone else seized her arm and pushed it back.

“Leave her alone!”

When you spotted Harry, a mix of surprise and embarrassment washed over you, yet relief followed quickly. He grabbed your arm, pulling you behind him, and draped his jacket around you, wrapping you with it.

“Hey, mister, what do you think you’re doing?” the woman asked, taken aback.

"If you touch my girl again, I'll bring this club down!" Harry growled.

Just then, a man approached you two, dressed in a suit. "Mr. Castillo, there's been a terrible misunderstanding. Please forgive us, sir." He then turned to the girls. "Get back to work and return the money to those customers." 

"And give me back my jacket!" you shouted. 

Harry reached over, snatched it from one of the girls, and pulled you closer. "Are you okay?" 

You nodded. "Yeah, thanks. Melanie! Harry, stop her!" you exclaimed, pointing at her. Harry grasped her arm and pulled her away from the stage. 

That's when Nate strolled in, his phone in hand, ready to take pictures. "Oh no, did I miss the show?"

The son of a bitch was grinning.

"It's all your fault!" you shot back at him. 

Garry came over to Melanie. "Miss Johnson, let’s head to the car, please." 

Melanie clung to Harry's arm touching his face. "Hey, old man, want a lap dance?" She was clearly trying to make Nate jealous, but it was Harry she had her hands on. 

Your man. 

Harry chuckled as he gently pushed her hand away. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I'm not interested."

Wait a minute.

Not only was Melanie, but almost all the women dancers were looking Harry up and down. A wave of jealousy washed over you.

And then you lost it.

You were so angry that you pulled her off of him by the hair. "You little slut, who do you think you're touching?" You pushed her towards Nate. "Take your girlfriend and get the hell out of my life! Garry, you call Jack right now!" you said to him. Grabbing Harry's hand tightly, "Let's get the hell out of here." you urged.

He was still laughing as you pulled him out with you.

“Stop laughing, Harry,” you scolded as you made your way to the car.

“But you were so cute when you protected me from real Melanie back there,” he replied, still chuckling.

You paused and turned to face him. “Are you really enjoying this?”

“Actually I don’t know what to think. Do you know how angry I was when I saw you here with those women? And those men… the way they look at you? I think I hate the real Melanie.”

“Welcome to the club,” you replied sarcastically. “But I’m sorry; you are right. I shouldn't have come here. Tonight was supposed to be special, and now it’s all ruined—just like my hair,” you said, running your fingers through your locks.

Harry glanced at the clock. “Um, the restaurant is about to close.”

“I really messed up,” you said, biting your lip. “I’ve ruined everything.”

He gently took your face in his hands. “Nothing’s ruined, baby. We’re going to plan B.”

“You had a plan B?” you asked, intrigued.

“I just came up with it,” he said with a grin. “Come on, we’re starting over.”

You smiled. “Okay, but where’s your car?”

“There it is,” he said, pointing to a red sport car.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “But it’s a Mustang GT!”

“That’s right. I rented it just for tonight,” he said, pulling the keys from his pocket and handing them to you. “So, am I forgiven now?”

You snatched the keys from his grasp. “Let me take it for a spin, and I’ll think about it.”

He laughed, and as you slid into the driver’s seat, he took the passenger seat beside you. You fastened your seatbelt and started the engine. “Hold on tight, ol'man.”

“Drive carefully, honey. The streets of New York are a whole different beast compared to the traffic you dealt with back in Paris.” 

You shot him a playful glance before slamming your foot on the gas. “I accept the challenge.”

“Hey, that wasn’t a challenge,” he retorted, his eyes wide as he clutched the seat.

You laughed, the thrill coursing through you. “Relax! A little excitement never hurt anyone.”

“You excite me enough in that dress, babe,” he grinned, glancing at you with a mix of admiration and mischief. 

After a few exhilarating laps, embarrassment washed over you when the flashing lights of a police radar caught you speeding through the night. Still, you found a way to enjoy the moment, laughing together as you swung by a 24-hour diner to grab some late-night munchies before heading toward Harry’s building. “Wow, that was an incredible ride."

“Yeah, it was a blast, even if it’s going to cost me a few hundred bucks in fines,” Harry said, opening the car door.

“Oops, sorry about that,” you said, stepping out of the car.

As he opened the trunk, he pulled out a huge bouquet of roses. “If it hadn’t been for that strip club incident, I would have met you at the hotel with this.”

“Harry,” you murmured, touched.

“Here you go, Cinderella—99 roses.”

You raised an eyebrow as you accepted the bouquet. “Why not a hundred?”

“That’s you,” he said, smiling sweetly. “The hundredth rose is you.”

You felt yourself melting at his words.

“That’s very romantic, ol'man. Thank you,” you said, reaching out to kiss his cheek.

“So, you forgive me now, right?” he asked, extending his arm so you could take it.

“Come here,” you said, encouraging him to lean closer. He complied, and you shared a tender kiss, sweet and gentle. “You’re forgiven, Mr. Castillo.” 

He grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist, leaning in to kiss you again, this time with more passion, the world around you fading away. But since you were still out on the street, you gently pushed him back, laughter in your eyes. “Save the rest for later, mister.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer with one arm still wrapped around your waist, and together you strolled toward the entrance.

“Here we have some Bordeaux wine,” he said as you unpacked the food and set the plates on the table. 

“Parfait,” you replied with a smile, embracing the French language. 

With skilled hands, he uncorked the wine using a polished corkscrew, the soft pop echoing in the cozy room, and poured the ruby liquid into your glasses, its rich color glinting in the soft light. 

“Hmm, delicious,” you remarked, savoring the first sip. 

As you shared the meal, the conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving in and out of tales about Melanie and the others, laughter bubbling up like the wine in your glasses. “That’s actually much better,” you said softly, feeling the warmth of the evening. “I mean, it’s better that we’re here than in a bustling restaurant.”

“I couldn’t agree more; it’s just the two of us,” he replied, his fingers entwining with yours.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your gaze locking with his, a deep connection simmering in the air between you. 

He sighed and stood up, a hint of excitement in his voice. “I have something for you.” 

“Another surprise?” you asked, intrigued. 

He returned with a small box, sitting back down and handing it to you across the table. Different from any jewelry box you’d seen, it piqued your curiosity.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day. There’s something I’ve come to realize. I’ve wanted you to be in my world, but I was wrong, I was missing something,” he explained as you opened the box. 

Inside lay a card and a key

At once, you recognized them; it was the same card and key you had used so many times for the elevator and the door of the apartment. “Harry,” you breathed out, astonished. 

“You said you don’t belong in my world, so let me into yours.” 

Your eyes filled with tears as you rose and embraced him tightly. “Thank you. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.” 

He pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you before leaning in for a kiss. Then, he turned on some soft music from the stereo. “Will you dance with me?” 

You nodded. “Absolutely.” 

You found yourselves swaying together, lost in the slow, sweet melody, savoring the magic of the moment in comfortable silence.

But then the tension between you began to rise. Harry ran his hand through the fabric of your dress. “Great choice of dress by the way.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” he whispered.

“What about my bra?” you said huskily, guiding his hand to the lace strap of it.

“I admire it,” he purred.

You lifted the skirt of the dress, revealing your lace garter stockings. “My stockings?” your eyes twinkling.

He smiled at you and reached out, drawing a circle on your leg with his fingertip. Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on the side of your neck. “I worship it, baby,” he said, his voice breathy and deep.

Your arm found its way around his waist, and your fingertips caressed his back. “Mmm. Keep doing that, please.”

He chuckled and continued, his hands slowly creeping up under your dress. You gave a deep, breathy moan when he latched on to the spot behind your ear, licking, sucking. Getting eager, you found his lips and kissed him, your tongue sweeping into his mouth tentatively. He responded by grabbing your hips and pulling you, lifting you into his lap. Then you broke the kiss to unbutton his shirt.

Taking a brief moment to admire you he let you stripped him out of his shirt before kissing you deeply, exploring your mouth hungrily. Popping the clasp on your bra with ease he let it fell to the floor, whilst he kissed a path between your breasts leaving a trail of goose flesh in his wake. Noticing your nipples were already pert betraying your arousal, taking one between his thumb and forefinger he rolled it making you cried out, lowering his head he circled you other with his tongue before drawing it into his hot mouth and sucking. He could feel his cock straining against the his pants but he ignored it focusing all his attention on you. He repeated the action with your other nipple before moving on, his lips gliding down over your ribs, across your stomach towards the garter belt and waistband of your panties.

Hooking his thumbs into the lace, he pulled the small scrap of material down your shapely legs until you could kick them off, but letting the garter belt still be on you. Kneeling before you he cupped your hips bringing you closer to him inhaling your scent, then he ran his tongue along your wet folds the cry that escaped you when he circled your clit was guttural, he felt his cock throb begging for attention but he ignored it once again. Slowly he worked you over, teasing you with shallow thrusts of his tongue into your velvety softness over and over again until your skin was slick with sweat and your thighs began to tremble.

“Please,” you begged, your fingers tangled in his curls, clinging to him. In answer to your plea, he flicked his tongue over your swollen bundle of nerves until you cried out when your orgasm hit. Keeping a tight grip on your hips, he held you steady, letting you ride it out before kissing his way back up your body, finally claiming your lips once more. You tasted yourself on his tongue, but you didn’t care; you devoured each other desperately.

Once your equilibrium returned, your hands found his belt, quickly you unbuckled it and pulled it from the loops before popping the buttons on his fly and pushing the material down over his hips. He shucked his pants and his boxers off and before he knew it your hand was around the base of his throbbing member and you were pumping him into your fist. He gritted his teeth, "Fuck, baby, you are such a needy kitten aren't you? Good girl. But there’s no way I’ll last if you keep that up."

Taking your hands in his, he threaded your fingers together and crushed his lips to yours once more, pinning you against the wall with your interlocked hands above your head. You gasped in response. His aching cock lied heavily against your core, you shuddered. He realized he couldn’t stand it anymore; he needed to be inside you.

Hoisting you up, he hooked your legs around his waist, pushing into you in one smooth stroke.

"Harry," you moaned, feeling dizzy with incredible consuming lust.

Your hair was plastered to your sweaty face now and in the throes of passion when your pupils dilate, cheeks flushed.

"You're breathtakingly beautiful just like this, darling," he hummed.

You were soft and warm, and your walls gripped him tightly as he thrust into you, making love to you against the wall. God he’s missed you so damn much, burying his head into the crook of your shoulder he picked up his pace, he knew you were close because he can feel your inner walls begin to tremble around him. Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, your heels press into his firm ass as he pounds into you deeper and deeper.

As you ran your fingers through his hair down to his neck, spurring him on with sweet cries. "Harder, faster, please."

"Fuck," he growled, pressed his forehead against yours so that he held your gaze as your second orgasm striked. You screamed his name as your body locked up, your sex gripping his cock in an iron grasp.

He made an incoherent sound and cursed as your orgasm triggered his, and he released himself inside of you. You collapsed into each other a hot, sticky, sweaty mess, panting heavily. When finally he caught his breath, he ran his nose along your smiling devilishly down at you.

“So how was it, baby?” he asked waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Fast, delicious, hair-raisingly good,” you giggled.

"How about a second round? This time in the bedroom?" he panted, still catching his breath.

You tightened your arms around him playfully. “You betcha, mister."

Just as your words finished, he scooped you up and rushed toward the bedroom, causing your laughter to ring out cheekily through the hall.

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[mintyys-blog]

HOW TO GIVE HEAD 101 | jason todd x reader

DC COMICS MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: blowjobs (male receiving oral sex), sexual themes.

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work (AI generated or otherwise) without my permission. @mintyys-blog

MINORS DNI

You and Jason lounged lazily on the couch, half-watching a movie, half just basking in each other’s company. You two had been friends forever — the kind of effortless bond built from late nights, too many shared secrets, and just enough mutual bad decisions to trust each other with anything.

You were playing with the hem of your hoodie, mind racing, heart hammering a little faster than you liked. Finally, you blurted out, “There’s this guy I like.”

Jason turned his head lazily toward you, one eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? What’s he like?”

You shrugged, a little embarrassed. “He’s… experienced. Like, really experienced.” You avoided Jason’s eyes, choosing instead to pick at a loose thread. “And we’ve been talking, a lot. It’s getting… flirty.”

Jason smirked knowingly, but said nothing.

You swallowed. “The thing is… he really likes—” you lowered your voice, like the apartment walls had suddenly become sentient, “—blow jobs. Like, a lot. And I’m not… super confident about that kind of thing.”

Jason’s expression stayed easy, but there was a flicker of amusement in his blue eyes. You pressed on, cheeks burning.

“I just… I don’t wanna disappoint him, you know?” You fiddled harder with your sleeve. Then, almost too quietly to hear, you added, “So… I was kinda thinking… maybe…”

You turned your head slowly toward Jason, giving him your best wide-eyed, innocent look.

He stared at you blankly for a long beat. Then, deadpan: “Are you asking to suck my dick for experience to impress another guy?”

You grimaced, embarrassed, but forced yourself to nod. “Well… when you say it like that—”

Jason huffed a short laugh, tossing his head back against the couch. Then he looked at you again, more serious this time, something a little more careful in his gaze. “Go ahead,” he said, voice low, a smirk tugging at his lips. Your eyes widened. “Really?”

A grin broke out on your face — you couldn’t even help it — excitement and nerves mixing together in a way that made you buzz. “Yeah,” Jason shrugged, casual, but you could tell he was fighting a real smile. “I wouldn’t mind teaching you. First step, you already got down: sound excited — not like it’s a chore.”

You nodded quickly, trying to tamp down the giddy flutter in your chest. “Should I, uh… take notes or something?”

Jason let out a low chuckle and leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of the couch, legs parted just enough to be cocky without trying. “Nah, baby,” he said smoothly, “you’ll have to learn from some hands-on training.”

Your heart thudded so hard you were sure he could hear it. Hands-on training. With Jason. This night was about to get a lot more interesting.

You shifted nervously onto the floor, settling between Jason’s spread legs, your knees pressing into the carpet. You looked up at him, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves twisting in your stomach.

Jason rested his arms lazily on the couch behind him, watching you with that same amused, half-lidded look. His voice was calm when he spoke, almost soothing.

“Alright, first thing you gotta understand…” he started, letting his legs spread a little wider, making room for you. “A blow job isn’t just about your mouth. It’s about enthusiasm. Pressure. Rhythm. How much you’re into it.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. Your hands rested awkwardly on your thighs, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

He smiled faintly, noticing. “Relax, babe. You’re not gonna hurt me.” He leaned forward slightly. “Start by using your hands first. Tease me a little. Get me hard. It’s not a race.”

You nodded again, hands a little shaky as you reached up and started fumbling with his belt. Jason chuckled low in his throat, reaching down to help you, fingers brushing yours as he undid it and let his jeans hang loose.

“Here.” His voice had dropped a little. “Go slow. Just… touch me. Light at first.”

You swallowed and slipped your hand inside his boxers, fingers grazing against warm skin. Jason sucked in a breath through his teeth, but didn’t rush you.

“Good… now, see, the first few seconds?” he said, tone lazy like he was explaining a game. “It’s about building it up. Light touches, kisses. Make it feel like you’re teasing the hell out of me before you even get serious.”

You blinked up at him again. “Kisses?”

“Yeah.” Jason smirked. “Like you’d kiss someone you really wanted. Start slow. Right at the tip.”

Your face burned hotter, but you leaned in, lips brushing just barely over him. Jason’s breath hitched — barely, but enough that you caught it — and your confidence grew just a little.

“There you go…” he murmured. “See? Already getting the idea.”

You placed another soft kiss, then another, feeling him twitch a little in your hand. Your mouth moved gently over him, just like he said.

Jason leaned his head back against the couch, watching you through half-closed eyes. His voice stayed calm, but rougher now.

“Now… flatten your tongue. Lick up the underside real slow. That spot’s sensitive as hell.”

You obeyed, sliding your tongue along the underside like he said, feeling him grow harder against your hand. His hand twitched like he wanted to touch you, to guide you, but he kept it at the back of the couch, letting you figure it out.

A low groan rumbled from his chest. “Fuck… you’re a quick learner, babe.”

You smiled a little against him, feeling bold now. Jason’s hips shifted just slightly forward, encouraging without saying a word.

“Now… open your mouth. Take just the tip in. Easy,” he coached, voice low and gravelly. “Don’t rush. Use your tongue while you’re sucking, swirl it a little.”

You did as he asked, easing him into your mouth, feeling the weight of him on your tongue. You swirled like he said, cheeks hollowing a little as you sucked carefully, listening to every sound he made, every little twitch of his body.

Jason groaned again, this time not bothering to hide it. His hand finally slid off the back of the couch, fingers brushing lightly through your hair.

“Shit… you’re gonna kill him if you do it like this,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust. “You’re already better than half the girls I’ve been with.”

You pulled back slightly, a little shy at the praise, and Jason laughed breathlessly, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“Don’t stop now, baby,” he murmured. “Lesson’s just getting started.”

You swallowed and leaned back in, lips wrapping around him again, feeling a thrill at how Jason’s body tensed beneath you. His hand stayed light in your hair, barely guiding — just a reassuring presence.

“Good girl…” he rasped, the words slipping out before he could catch them. You flushed at the praise, heart thudding harder.

Jason gave a low chuckle at your reaction, voice rough but still patient.

“Alright. Now use your hand too. Grip the base — yeah, like that. Twist your wrist a little while you move your mouth. Not too tight, just enough to keep the pressure steady.”

You tried it, sliding your hand along the length of him while your mouth worked the tip, feeling him throb under your touch. His breath caught, fingers flexing slightly in your hair.

“Shit, babe, yeah…” he muttered, letting his eyes close for a second before forcing them open again. He wanted to watch you — needed to.

You hollowed your cheeks a little more, moving your mouth and hand together like he said. Jason let out a low, broken groan, hips twitching slightly.

“You’re killing me here, you know that?” he gritted out, voice hoarse. “The way you’re looking up at me, all eager and pretty… fuck.”

You whimpered a little around him, and Jason cursed again under his breath. His thumb brushed your jaw, gently wiping a bit of spit away.

“Alright, next part,” he said, clearing his throat like he needed to get control back. His hand tightened slightly in your hair, but not enough to hurt — just enough to make you focus.

“Breathe through your nose. Try to take me deeper, a little at a time. You don’t have to force it — just let your throat open. If it gets too much, pull back. No shame in it.”

You nodded, determined, and slowly eased your mouth lower. Jason sucked in a sharp breath, the sound raw in the quiet room. You felt him bump the back of your throat and instinctively gagged a little, pulling back immediately.

Jason chuckled low, rubbing your scalp gently.

“That’s normal. Took me a while to get a girl to even try that.” His voice was warm, almost proud. “You’re doing better than you think.”

You tried again, taking him slower, relaxing your throat just like he said. This time you managed to take him a little deeper without gagging right away. Jason’s hips shifted again, this time clearly fighting the urge to thrust deeper into your mouth.

“Jesus, Y/N…” he groaned. His hand gripped your hair more firmly, guiding your pace now — a slow, steady rhythm.

“Fuck, that’s it. Nice and slow. Let me feel your mouth, your tongue, all of it…” His voice was rough, almost shaking.

You felt yourself getting warm all over, your own thighs pressing together as you listened to him fall apart above you. It was addicting — the power of it, the trust he gave you, the way he praised you like you were already the best he’d ever had.

Jason’s breathing was ragged now, a deep flush creeping up his throat.

“Start stroking with your hand at the same time, baby. Mouth and hand together.” His instructions were getting choppier, like it was getting harder for him to think straight.

You followed, hand twisting at the base while you bobbed your head in slow, steady movements, feeling him twitch and pulse inside your mouth.

“F-fuck…” Jason hissed. “If you do that to the guy you like, he’s gonna fall in love on the spot.”

You smiled a little around him, pride blooming in your chest.

Jason’s other hand gripped the couch cushion like he needed to anchor himself, hips twitching again, almost involuntarily.

“You wanna really drive a guy crazy?” he gritted out. “Look up at him while you’re doing it. Let him see how much you love it.”

You glanced up through your lashes, cheeks flushed, mouth full of him — and Jason’s head dropped back against the couch with a broken growl.

“Goddamn it, Y/N…” he groaned, voice wrecked. “You’re too good at this.”

Jason’s breathing was ragged now, every muscle in his body drawn tight. His hand was firm in your hair, but not harsh — grounding you there, keeping you moving at the pace he wanted.

You kept your eyes locked on his, cheeks hollowed around him, hand sliding up and down the base just like he taught you.

“Fuck… Y/N,” he groaned again, head tipping back, veins standing out along his throat. “You’re gonna make me lose it if you keep looking at me like that…”

Your stomach fluttered at the broken edge in his voice. It didn’t sound like he was coaching anymore. It sounded real — desperate.

His fingers tightened just a little more, forcing your mouth to take him a little deeper with each slow thrust of his hips.

“Little more, baby,” he muttered, voice rough and coaxing. “Open your throat, breathe through your nose, yeah? You can do it.”

You nodded as much as you could, letting him guide your rhythm — his hips rocking up slowly into your mouth, pulling back just enough not to overwhelm you. Every slow thrust made your throat burn a little more, but the raw sounds coming out of him made you want to keep going.

Jason’s hand left the couch and grabbed your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth where spit was starting to drip down your chin.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this,” he growled under his breath. “Such a good girl… letting me teach you.”

Your thighs squeezed together instinctively at the praise. You were supposed to be learning for another guy — but right now, all you could think about was Jason, the way he sounded, the way he looked at you like he wanted to tear you apart and worship you at the same time.

“Move your hand a little faster,” he ordered, voice dark, strained. “Keep your mouth tight around me, fuck—”

You obeyed, hollowing your cheeks again, and Jason let out a broken, guttural moan that sounded like he was barely holding himself together.

“Fuck, Y/N… if you don’t stop, I’m gonna—” He cut himself off, jaw clenching.

You whimpered a little around him, swirling your tongue just like he taught you, determined to see it through. The tension in him snapped — his hips jerked up once, hard, and his grip tightened on your hair as he spilled into your mouth with a strangled groan.

You gasped around him, swallowing instinctively because you didn’t know what else to do — Jason’s whole body was shaking, his head dropped back against the couch, chest heaving.

For a second, the only sound was his ragged breathing, the hum of the city outside the window.

Finally, Jason looked down at you — pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed, chest still rising and falling fast.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, a slow grin curling his lips. “You’re dangerous, baby girl.”

You wiped your mouth shyly, heart hammering, unsure what to say. Part of you still couldn’t believe you actually did that.

Jason reached out, tugging you gently up by the arms until you were straddling his lap, his jeans pushed halfway down his hips. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, his touch unexpectedly soft.

“You still wanna impress that other guy?” he asked, voice low, thumb stroking your jaw.

You blinked at him, mouth parting slightly.

“I…” you hesitated. Your heart twisted, because the way he was looking at you now — like you were the only girl in the world — made you forget why you wanted to impress anyone else to begin with.

Jason chuckled quietly, pressing his forehead lightly against yours.

“Thought so,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “You don’t need anyone else, Y/N. Not when you already got me.”

Jason’s hand was just sliding up your thigh, his mouth brushing along your neck, when you stiffened slightly beneath him. He immediately pulled back, concern flashing across his face. “What’s wrong, doll?” he asked, voice low and careful.

You pressed a hand against his chest, chewing your bottom lip anxiously. “Jay… don’t get me wrong— I do like you, you’re amazing. But… I also really like this other guy, and…”

Jason leaned back the second you said it, smiling a little, though you could see the flash of disappointment he tried to hide.

“It’s okay, doll,” he said easily, lifting you gently off his lap and setting you next to him on the couch. “I get it.”

You grabbed the nearest pillow, hugging it against your chest, guilt washing over you. “I’m sorry if I led you on—” you started, but Jason just laughed, shaking his head.

“You didn’t lead me on. Trust me,” he said, voice warm and teasing. “And anyway, it’s fine. I’m not gonna get butt hurt just because you like some other guy.” He gave you a playful nudge with his shoulder. “Say… what’s his name?”

You brightened immediately, eager to tell him. “Oh! His name is Dick Grayson!”

Jason had just taken a sip of his beer — and immediately choked, spraying it across the room. You panicked, rushing to his side and thumping his back. “Jason! Oh my god, are you okay??” you cried, worried as he coughed and tried to wave you off.

He nodded, clearing his throat with a rough laugh. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” he said, voice hoarse. Then he smirked at you — a sly, almost wicked little look.

You didn’t catch it. You were too busy fretting over him. Jason reached out, ruffling your hair affectionately, and said, “Don’t worry, doll. Just do what you did tonight, and he’ll love it.”

You smiled wide, relief and excitement lighting up your whole face. “Thanks, Jason.”

He leaned back against the couch, tossing an arm around your shoulders in an easy, protective way. “Anytime, sweetheart,” he murmured, still grinning to himself — because you had no idea Dick Grayson was Jason’s older, adoptive brother. And Jason? He couldn’t wait to see how that was gonna play out.

Later that night, after you left — practically skipping with excitement about your crush — Jason was still stretched out on the couch, grinning at the ceiling like a man who just watched fate set a bomb and walk away whistling.

He grabbed his phone off the coffee table, thumbing through his contacts until he found the one labeled:

“Asshole #1”

He smirked and typed quickly:

Jason:

bro… we gotta talk.

it’s about you. and it’s hilarious.

He barely had time to set the phone down before it buzzed angrily.

Dick:

?? what did i do now?

i’m literally just eating cereal rn wtf

Jason barked out a short laugh and leaned back, picturing the look on Dick’s face when he found out who had been practicing just for him tonight.

He tapped another reply:

Jason:

nothing yet. just… be nice when a pretty little thing gets brave enough to flirt with you soon.

she’s special. don’t be a dick, dick.

There was a pause. Then:

Dick:

???

who the hell are you talking about???

JASON ANSWER ME

Jason laughed so hard he nearly dropped the phone. He thought about telling him the full truth — that you, sweet, bright-eyed you, had just spent the evening on your knees for him practicing — but he decided to let it simmer a little longer.

Wouldn’t hurt to make Grayson sweat.

He threw his phone onto the couch and muttered to himself with a grin, “Man… this is gonna be good.” And for the first time in a long time, Jason Todd felt like he had something to look forward to.

It all happened faster than you thought it would.

One minute, you were sitting next to Dick Grayson at a Titans gathering, both of you laughing over something stupid. The next, you were alone together in his room, your heart hammering so loud you could barely hear yourself think.

When you dropped to your knees in front of him — cheeks burning, nerves twisting in your gut — he barely had time to react before your hands were on his belt.

“Y/N—” he started, but the second your mouth wrapped around him, all coherent thought seemed to leave his brain.

He hissed through his teeth, one hand flying to the back of your head automatically — but not pushing, just gripping at your hair like he needed something to hold onto.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he groaned, voice cracking, hips jerking slightly against your mouth. You took him deep, hollowing your cheeks exactly how Jason had taught you, keeping your hand at the base and twisting gently as you moved — slow, purposeful, confident.

Dick almost blacked out.

It wasn’t just good — it was skilled. Way too skilled for someone who, from what he remembered, had said she was “still learning.”

He forced his eyes open, looking down at you — and that’s when the first little seed of suspicion planted itself.

Something about the way you worked him over — the way you squeezed at the base, the way you bobbed your head in rhythm, your tongue teasing just right at the tip — it wasn’t just natural talent. It was training.

You finally pulled off, blinking up at him innocently, a little bit of spit trailing down your chin.

He sucked in a ragged breath, trying to get a grip on himself. “Holy shit, Y/N,” he muttered, wiping his thumb gently across your lips. “That was— I mean, where did you learn to do that?”

You flushed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand shyly. “I mean… I practiced? Once. Before tonight.” You smiled nervously. “I told you I didn’t have a lot of experience… but I wanted to impress you, so…”

Dick’s brows furrowed slightly. “Practiced… with who?” he asked, trying to sound casual — but his voice cracked halfway through.

You shrugged, fidgeting. “Oh— um. Just… my friend Jason helped me.”

Silence. Utter, horrified silence. Dick’s whole face froze — eyes wide, mouth slightly open — like his soul physically left his body for a moment.

“Jason,” he repeated, voice tight.

“Yeah,” you nodded brightly, oblivious to the internal meltdown happening inside him. “He’s really good at explaining stuff. Super patient.”

Dick scrubbed a hand down his face, groaning. “Oh my god,” he muttered under his breath.

He wasn’t mad — not really. He couldn’t be. You didn’t know the full story — you didn’t realize you had literally just given him a blowjob with Jason Todd’s signature techniques. Techniques Dick had, unfortunately, recognized mid-orgasm.

He exhaled sharply, still trying to wrap his head around it.

“Okay,” he said, voice strangled but still kind. He reached down, pulling you into his lap carefully. “Okay. We’re gonna… just… move past that for now.”

You smiled shyly and snuggled against his chest, thinking he was embarrassed because he liked it so much.

Later that night, Dick was stalking down the hall like a man possessed, trying to find Jason. His face was flushed, his hair a mess, and he looked like he’d just been run over by a truck.

(Which, in a way, he kind of had.)

He found Jason exactly where he expected — in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, sipping a beer like he had all the time in the world.

Jason clocked him immediately, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Well, well, well,” Jason drawled, setting his beer down and crossing his arms. “Look who survived his special tutoring session.”

Dick stopped a few feet away, running a hand down his face in pure agony. “You’re a dick, you know that?” he groaned.

Jason barked out a laugh. “Me? I’m the dick?” He pointed at himself, grinning ear to ear. “I’m not the one who got the full Jason Todd patented blowjob experience without even asking.”

Dick made a strangled sound in his throat, visibly dying inside. “You taught her,” he hissed under his breath, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one else was nearby. “You taught her how to— to—”

“—to suck your soul out through your dick?” Jason finished helpfully, smiling so wide it should’ve been illegal. “You’re welcome.”

Dick was halfway between throttling him and bursting into laughter. “Dude, she’s so innocent,” he said, flailing his hands helplessly. “She has no idea— she just— trusted you!”

Jason shrugged, completely unbothered. “Hey, I was a perfect gentleman about it.” He took another sip of his beer, smirking behind the bottle. “She asked for help. I provided a public service.”

Dick pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, groaning. “This is so messed up.”

Jason clapped him on the shoulder, nearly sending him stumbling forward.

“Look at it this way, Big Brother—” Jason said with a teasing grin. “At least you got the rewards without doing any of the work.”

Dick glared at him murderously — but he didn’t argue. Because— God help him… Jason wasn’t wrong.

You padded into the kitchen, still floating on a little high from earlier, only to freeze in the doorway. There stood Jason, casually leaning against the counter — and Dick Grayson, standing stiff as a board like he was caught hiding a dead body.

You blinked, shocked. “Jay! Hi—uh, what are you doing at the Tower?”

Before you could spiral into awkwardness, Jason’s grin stretched wider. He pushed off the counter and pulled you into an easy hug, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Dick just stood there behind him, looking like he was silently begging the universe to strike him dead.

Jason hugged you tight, smirking directly at Dick over your shoulder. “Oh, you know,” Jason said casually, voice dripping with amusement. “Just visiting family.”

You pulled away, frowning slightly. “Family? I thought you said you were adopted?”

Jason chuckled, like he was just remembering a silly little thing he forgot to mention. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck like it was no big deal. “Well, funny thing… turns out I kinda forgot to tell you—Dick and I are brothers.”

You stared at him. Then at Dick. Then back at him. The realization hit you like a brick wall. Your face drained of color. Your jaw dropped. “Oh… oh no,” you breathed, stepping back in horror.

Jason just beamed, the most evil, smug, entertained older brother you could ever imagine. Dick, on the other hand, looked like he was about two seconds away from throwing himself out the window.

You covered your mouth, mortified. “I gave head to your—your—!!” you squeaked, unable to even finish the sentence.

Jason patted your head like you were a confused puppy. “Relax, dollface,” he said, winking shamelessly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Actually…” He cocked his head at Dick with a shit-eating grin. “You made my brother a very happy man tonight.”

“JASON!” Dick barked, red-faced, but Jason was already moving toward the door, laughing under his breath.

Before he left the kitchen, he turned back, tossed you a wink so quick Dick didn’t catch it — and said, “Good job, sweetheart. Proud of you.”

And with that, he disappeared down the hallway, whistling innocently.

You stood there frozen, absolutely mortified. Dick dragged a hand down his face, groaning like his soul had physically left his body.

“Well,” you mumbled, cheeks burning hotter than the sun, “at least now I know why it felt like he was weirdly good at teaching…” Dick just let out a helpless little noise of pain, looking at you like he had no idea whether to laugh or cry.

Later that night, Dick lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling like a man at war with his soul. He had been tossing and turning for an hour, replaying every agonizing second from earlier — your mortified face, Jason’s shit-eating grin, the way Jason had said “proud of you” like he was handing out a damn scouting badge—

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. He groaned, rolling over to check it, praying it wasn’t who he thought it was. It was.

Jason Todd:

Hey big bro.

How’s my favorite little student?

Dick glared at the screen, feeling his blood pressure spike.

Before he could even respond, another text came in:

Jason Todd:

Did she use the twist?

Be honest.

Dick threw the phone onto the bed like it had personally insulted him, running both hands through his hair. “damn it, Jason,” he muttered, pacing the room.

The phone buzzed again.

Jason Todd:

You can thank me later.

Or name your first kid after me.

Your call.

Dick actually let out a strangled, painful laugh — half from genuine amusement, half from the soul-crushing secondhand embarrassment that was now his permanent companion.

He snatched the phone back up, thumbs flying across the screen.

Dick Grayson:

I’m going to kill you.

Slowly.

A second later:

Jason Todd:

You’re welcome.

<3

Dick groaned again, collapsing face-first onto the mattress. This was his life now.

[hyunjincanraptoo]

hi baby ;)

prompt 10 pretty please 🥺

(guess who is iiiiiit)

Hi, baby!! I knew it was you just by the 'baby' haha. Lemme tell you, skz made something to me, cause after I saw that damn video of Chan and Lixie taking care of babies, I can't stop thinking about kids and look, I never wanted to be a mother 🤡 (why do they have to be so husband material 😭)

10. Baby, I'm late

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: smut, breeding kink

Alexa, play Scorsese Baby Daddy by SZA

You were quiet for most of the morning.

Chan had noticed. You picked at your breakfast, stared off into space, laughed at the wrong times during your drama. When he reached for your hand on the couch, you laced your fingers through his, but your grip was too loose like your thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

He waited. He always did.

But around lunchtime as he was folding his clothes and humming some song in the bedroom, you finally said it.

“Baby, I’m late”

He looked up.

“Late for what?”

You turned to face with the lips parted like you were unsure if it was a joke or not

“You know what”

He stared. Then the air in the room changed, his blood pressure dropped straight to his feet.

“H-how late?”

“Five days”

“Fuck”, he whispered, then rubbed his face so hard his skin turned red.

“Five days is… well, that’s not like you!”

You nodded. Silent.

He stood there in the middle of the room like the walls were closing in.

“Did you… did you take a test?”

“Not yet. I wanted to tell you first”

“For God's sake, Yn”

The tone of his voice caught you off guard. It sounded like a mixture of disbelief, anger and regret.

“I didn’t do this on purpose, Chan”

“I know, I know. It’s just… this is a lot, okay? We’re not even… fuck, we never talked about this!”

A lump formed in your throat.

“So what? You regret sleeping with me?”

“No! Damn, I didn't say…”

He took a breath, lowering his voice, “I just… I need to think. I need to breathe”

And just like that, he grabbed his duffle bag, mumbled something about the studio, and left.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

Chan was bent over his desk, stuck on a chord progression that didn’t even match the track. His leg bounced uncontrollably. He hadn’t written a word. All he could think about was tiny shoes, baby formula prices, whether you’d even want to see him again after he just left you there alone.

“Hyung”

He looked up to see Felix in the doorway, arms crossed, brows furrowed in concern.

“You okay?”

Chan didn’t answer. Felix walked in, took one look at the empty snack wrappers and his half-finished lyrics

“Did someone die or…?”

Chan looked like he wanted to.

“It’s Yn. She’s late”

Felix processes it in half a second.

“Oh”

He leaned against Chan's desk, “Breathe, hyung. You like her. You love her. It’s not a death sentence*

Chan groans, burying his face in his hands, “I’m not ready to be a dad”

“You weren’t ready to lead a group either, but here we are with the best leader we could ever imagine”

Felix’s voice was warm, real, like he meant every word.

“Also you already act like a dad to seven grown men every day. You think you’d suck at raising one tiny version of someone you love?”

Chan exhaled

“I freaked out, okay?. I didn’t want her to think I didn’t want… us, you know?”

Felix placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Then go tell her that. Before she decides to raise that kid without you and your dramatic ass”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

Chan returned home around 6 pm.You didn’t even look up when he opened the door. Just kept sitting at the kitchen table, staring at an empty pregnancy test wrapper.

“It was a false alarm”, you said softly.

He stopped in his tracks.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I took the test an hour ago. Not pregnant. Try not to be too excited”.

You finally looked at him and saw the guilt all over his face.

He stepped forward.

“I’m sorry, I freaked out”

“I know. I was scared too”

He dropped to his knees beside your chair, resting his head on your lap.

“It… it wouldn’t be such a bad idea, though. Raising a little us with you”

Your fingers tangled in his hair.

“You’re lucky I can't resist when you beg for forgiveness”

He looked up at you, eyes softer and sure.

“Do you…. maybe want to try? For real?”

“You mean… have a baby?”

“Only if it’s with you”

You smiled.

“Do you want to try for real?”

“Let’s try it. Right now”

Your heart pounded hard against your ribcage

“Chan…”

He leaned in close, voice tender like velvet but his eyes locked on yours with fire.

“Let me put a baby in you”

That heat in your chest dropped straight between your thighs.

You didn’t answer. Just stood and took his hand, leading him to the bedroom quietly. The moment the door closed, his lips were on you, hungry as ever.

Chan kissed you like he meant every word. Like the apology was in his tongue. Like the promise was in his hands, smoothing under your shirt and down your spine.

The backs of your knees hit the mattress, and he followed you down immediately, hungry hands roaming your body. His lips dragged a line of heat down your stomach as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding it down your legs slowly, savoring the way you shivered beneath him.

When he pushed inside, it wasn’t rough— it was sure and deep. Like he wanted to carve himself into you.

He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your hip to keep you steady as he moved inside you, unrelenting.

“You feel so fucking perfect", he panted, voice shaking against your ear, “like you were made to carry my baby"

You gasped his name, back arching off the bed, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to pull him even deeper.

The words wrecked you more than they should’ve, but hearing them in a rasp tone, charged with love and need, sent heat straight between your legs.

“You want that?”, he whispered, teeth grazing your jaw, “Want to feel me dripping out after? Laying here, stuffed full of me?”

You whimpered, nodding frantically, every muscle in your body tightening around him.

“Say it, baby. Need to hear you say it", he urged, voice broken.

“I want it", you cried out, clinging to him, “Chan, please... give it to me…”

He groaned like he was falling apart, rhythm faltering as he started driving into you harder, deeper, chasing the edge for both of you.

“I’m close", he gasped into your mouth, forehead pressed to yours, “Gonna fill you up, babe. Every last drop"

His hand tightened in yours, anchoring you to him as you shattered around him, muscles spasming so hard it ripped a broken moan from his chest.

He followed with a shuddering cry, burying himself as deep as he could, spilling inside you with a heat that made your whole body tremble.

He stayed there, panting, forehead still pressed against yours like he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Later, he curled around you, chest pressed to your back, arms locking protectively around your waist with his softening cock still buried inside you.

"False alarm or not", he whispered against the shell of your ear, voice rough but still affectionate, "I think I wanna practice every night until it’s not"

His hand slid down, resting over your lower belly, fingers splaying wide like he was already protecting something precious.

And you knew, without a doubt, that he meant it

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Taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa, @my-neurodivergent-world , @hyunles , @lexlikesbts , @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold , @teenagepeterpan , @hangonhyunjin

[purplereina11]

In a match where the scoreboard tells only half the story, a fierce on-pitch rivalry between you and football royalty, Alexia Putellas, evolves into something electric — something unspoken, but deeply felt. Between the lines two players lock eyes, trade touches, and blur the line between competition and connection. What begins as a game becomes a gravity neither can resist.

Part 3: 36 hours in Munich Other Parts

Word Count: 8k

⚽️

You’re in the locker room, post-session. Freshly changed but, pulse still settling, water bottle half-drunk and rolling somewhere near your bench. Everyone’s moving slow — stretches, recovery gear, shower queues. Typical post-training lull.

But you’re pacing already packing away, quicker than normal, you normally linger for longer. You sit finally. Jacket half-zipped. Legs twitchy, breath short, heart doing sprints while your teammates are winding down.

You check your phone for the sixth time in two minutes. Still nothing. Still soon.

“Alright,” a voice cuts through behind you. “Who is it?”

You look toward the voice. Georgia. Leaning against the wall, towel over her shoulder, one brow cocked. You blink. “What?”

“You’re all… shifty.” She waves a vague circle around you. “Nicely-dressed, hair down. You keep checking your phone like it's gonna grow lips.”

You try to brush it off. “It’s nothing.”

Georgia doesn’t even flinch. “Liar. Spill it.”

You stare at her for a second. You weren’t going to tell anyone. But something about her tone — casual but not cruel — makes your chest loosen. And you need to say it out loud. Just once.

You sigh, grab your other boot, and sit. “She’s flying in.”

Georgia pauses. “She?” You assumed Beth would of blabbed by now.

You swallow. “Alexia.”

That name lands like a stone in a calm pool. Georgia blinks once. “Putellas?”

“Yeah.”

She’s staring now. Like full-body-turn, jaw-slightly-dropped, towel-falling-off-the-shoulder staring. “For… ?” she tries.

You sigh a hand going through your freshly washed hair. “For a day.”

Her mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. “As in…”

You shrug, but you can’t help the way your face warms. “Yeah. As in that. She followed me after the home game against Barca, after the away game, that's when she first started DM'ing me" You smile at Georgia's mouth hanging open.

"Saying what?"

"Football stuff mainly, about the games, but after the last game at Wembley, she asked if she could come here to see me. I said yes.”

Georgia whistles low. “Bloody hell. You’re actually—” she stops herself. “Wait. Are you nervous?”

You nod, fast and helpless. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

She laughs, loud and bright. “You scored a free kick at Wembley in front of ninety thousand, but you’re sweating because the Queen of Barcelona herself is flying in for a sleepover?”

You put your hand out, "You say it like they're not both just as equally massive" You groan, head in hands. “Why did I tell you.”

Georgia grins. “Because you needed to.” She slaps your back once, warm and steady. “She’ll have a nice time I'm sure. And you're interesting when your social battery is full. Just don’t overthink it.” You look up. Georgia’s still smiling — not teasing now. Just sure. “Go get the girl from the airport,” she says. “Don't over think it, just take it for what it is, it's her idea to come here so let her lead what it is"

You roll your eyes. But you’re nodding too. Because yeah — it’s real now. She’s coming. And you have to be ready.

“Meado knows about mine and Alexia’s conversations, she doesn’t know about her coming. If you know, you need to freak out about this when I’m gone”

⚽️

The car is parked just beyond the pickup loop, engine idling low. Your hoodie’s half-zipped, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other drumming nervously against your thigh. You’ve been here twenty minutes early, but you’d never admit it.

Your phone lights up with a text.

Alexia: Just got my bag. Coming out now.

You swallow hard.

You glance in the rearview mirror, tug at your hair, check your reflection. You don’t even know why — it’s her, you’ve already been through matches and mud and bruises together — but somehow, this is different.

It’s real. And quiet. And outside the lines. The terminal doors slide open again. A few people walk out. Not her. Another group. Still not. Your fingers tap faster.

Then there she is. Alexia. Dressed in all black, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, duffel bag over her shoulder. She walks out calm, casual, that familiar captain’s posture in every step. But her eyes are already searching.

And the second she sees you, they soften. You watch her approach through the windshield, heart thudding so hard you’re sure she’ll hear it before she even opens the door.

She pulls it open and slides into the passenger seat with that impossible grace, dropping her bag between her feet. You look at her.

She looks at you. And for a second, neither of you says a thing.

“Hey,” you breathe, voice barely above the hum of the engine.

“Hey,” she says back, softer.

You both smile. It’s awkward and perfect and so much. “I can’t believe you’re actually here,” you say as you pull out into traffic.

She leans back in the seat, eyes still on you. “I told you,” she murmurs. “I didn’t want to miss you.”

The city rolls past in a blur of grey and gold. Low sunlight spills across the dashboard, and the soft thrum of music — something wordless and warm — fills the quiet between you.

You’re both a little awkward. Not painfully so. Just… cautiously new.

It’s strange, this version of her — in your passenger seat, seatbelt clicking into place, fingers drumming lightly on her thigh. She’s looking out the window, but keeps glancing at you when she thinks you won’t notice.

You notice. “Airport was easy, then?” you ask, just to fill the silence.

She nods. “Very. One person tried to sneak a photo. But I gave them the look.”

You smirk. “The full ‘Putellas Death Glare’?”

“Level three only,” she says, mock serious. “Mild warning.”

You laugh under your breath, relaxing a little. Her accent’s thicker in person, softer in a car. You don’t know why that makes your stomach twist the way it does.

She glances at you again, a little longer this time. “It’s weird,” she murmurs. “Hearing you talk without a crowd around us.”

You smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

You make it through another light, and the silence stretches — still easy, but expectant.

Then suddenly — you freeze. “Oh shit.”

Alexia blinks. “What?”

You wince. “I forgot to tell you something kind of… important.”

She turns in her seat, curious. “What did you forget?”

You drum your fingers on the wheel. “I have a dog.”

Alexia blinks again. Then a slow smile tugs at her lips. “That’s what you forgot?”

“Well, yeah,” you say, already cringing. “I just—I meant to tell you. I’m not one of those people who spring dogs on people. He’s sweet. I swear.”

She’s laughing now — full, rich, effortless. “You make it sound like you’ve got a bear waiting at the door.”

“He’s just… enthusiastic,” you say, biting your lip. “His name’s Teddy.”

Alexia tilts her head, teasing. “Named after?”

“Teddy bear. Don’t judge me.”

She holds up both hands. “No judgment. But I can’t believe you didn’t lead with that.”

You glance at her. “Still time to turn around, you know.”

She smiles wider, looking straight ahead again. “I came here to see you,” she says softly. “Teddy’s just a bonus.”

And just like that, the nerves quiet. Just a little.

⚽️

You pull into the parking spot in the street, heart suddenly faster than it was on the pitch at Wembley.

Alexia’s quiet beside you, seatbelt undone, hands folded in her lap. But you feel her eyes on you as you kill the engine and sit for a second longer than necessary.

“This is it,” you say, finally, looking up at your loft apartment on the third floor

She nods. “Cute street.”

You grin. “Cute flat.”

She smirks. “Cute dog?”

You shoot her a look. “He’s trying his best.”

You both laugh as you get out. The early evening air is cool, the sky dipping into that soft lilac blue. You grab her small bag from the boot, and as you unlock the door, you hesitate.

“He might bark.”

“I can handle it,” she says, smiling.

You push the door open. It takes exactly one second.

Teddy barrels around the corner, all paws and excitement, nails tapping on the floor like a drumroll. His tail is going wild, and he’s already launching toward you when he spots the new presence behind you.

Alexia steps in, closing the door behind her. Teddy freezes. Then bolts straight for her.

You open your mouth to intervene—“Teddy, no!”—but before you can, Alexia’s already crouching down, calm and soft.

“Hola, precioso,” she murmurs, holding out a hand. And Teddy melts.

Tail wagging, head pressing into her palm, tongue ready for her cheek like she’s his long-lost soulmate.

You blink. “Well,” you mutter, “traitor.”

Alexia looks up at you, grinning as she scratches behind his ears. “He has taste,” she says. “Clearly.”

You lean against the doorframe, watching her — hair falling into her face, Teddy now rolling onto his back like he’s never known loyalty — and something in your chest settles. Warms.

Alexia stands, finally, brushing dog fur from her knees.

“Welcome to Germany,” you say, quieter now.

She doesn’t look away when she answers. “Thanks,” she says. “It already feels like a good idea.”

And for the first time all day, you believe you can relax. Because she’s here. This is just the beginning.

You toe off your shoes by the door, glance back to find Alexia standing just inside, Teddy still sniffing reverently at her shoes like he’s found royalty. Her bag’s at her feet, her jacket draped over her arm.

You clear your throat. “Right—um. Tour.”

She smiles like she’s already charmed. “I’m ready.”

You lead her into the main space — open-plan living room and kitchen. The walls are clean, but lived-in. A few photos on a shelf — one of the squad after a cup match, another of you and Beth pulling stupid faces at the camera. A soft throw blanket is half-fallen off the back of the couch. A candle you forgot you lit earlier is still flickering on the coffee table.

“This is the, uh—living-slash-existing space,” you say, gesturing vaguely. “Teddy thinks it belongs to him.”

Teddy immediately hops onto the couch, circles twice, and settles like you’ve just proven his point. Alexia grins.

You lead her into the kitchen, flicking on the under-counter light. “I don’t cook much, but the kettle works. Coffee pods are in here.” You tap a cupboard. “Mugs — there.”

She opens it, scans the shelves. “All mismatched.”

You shrug. “I collect them. Kind of.”

“I like it,” she says, softly. “It feels like someone lives here.”

You duck your head, smiling.

You show her the bathroom next — small, clean, stocked with too many hair ties and one towel you warn her not to use because it’s definitely Teddy’s now.

And then the hallway. Two doors.

“That one’s mine,” you say, thumb over your shoulder. “The other’s yours while you’re here.”

She doesn’t hesitate. Just peeks inside. A double bed, made neatly. Fresh towels folded at the foot.

She steps inside. Smiles softly looking around more.

You clear your throat. “I didn’t want it to feel weird.”

“It doesn’t,” she says. “It feels like you thought about it.”

“I did,” you admit.

It slips out quieter than you mean it to, but you don’t take it back.

Alexia meets your eyes. “Thank you. For having me.”

You nod toward the room. “Make yourself at home, yeah? My place is your place.”

She steps a little closer. Not much. Just enough that you feel her presence like a hum. “I already feel at home,” she says.

And the way she says it. It makes your chest ache. In the best way. You raise your eyes when they moved away from hers, "I'll um, leave you to unpack" you take a step back, "Teddy" you call, he appears around the foot of the bed, "Come" you give Alexia one final look and you walk back down the hallway.

She smiled opening her bag as she heard you chatting away to Teddy about getting him some treats, asking for various tricks from him.

⚽️

You tried to cook. You really did. But somewhere between boiling the pasta and burning the garlic, you gave up and ordered takeaway. Alexia didn’t mind. In fact, she looked almost relieved.

Now you’re both curled up on the couch, watching a show on a streaming app neither of you are paying attention to, warm plates in your laps and the soft, flickering glow of your fairy lights stretching across the ceiling.

She’s in one of your hoodies now. You hadn’t meant to offer it — just handed it over without thinking when she mentioned how cold planes make her feel.

It swallows her in all the right ways.

Teddy’s curled at your feet. Loyal again. For now.

“Okay,” she says mid-bite, glancing at you. “I need to know something.”

You look over, wiping your fingers on a napkin. “What?”

She gestures with her fork. “Do you actually like this pasta place, or is it just close?”

You fake a gasp. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” she says, trying to hide her smile. “I just—your face when you handed it to me said, ‘This is the best I’ve got, but I know it’s not the best in the world.’”

You laugh. “Alright, yeah. It’s proximity-based love.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Respect.”

The TV plays something forgettable in the background — neither of you are really watching it. The kind of background noise that just fills in the edges of something far more focused. Like the way she’s sitting. One leg folded beneath her, turned just slightly toward you. Or the way you’re watching her mouth more than listening to her words.

She puts her plate down on the coffee table, wipes her hands, then leans back. “You were nervous,” she says suddenly.

You blink. “When?”

“Earlier. At the airport. In the car.”

You roll your eyes. “Was it that obvious?”

She smiles, soft and real. “A little.”

You look down at your plate, then back at her. “I just… didn’t want it to feel weird.”

Alexia tilts her head slightly. “It doesn’t. You make it easy.”

That catches you off guard. You blink once, then set your plate down too. The silence stretches. But it’s not awkward. It’s warm. “I’m glad you came,” you say.

She leans her head back against the couch, eyes on you now in that slow, deliberate way she does everything. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” she says.

Alexia is fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie — pulling at the hem with her thumb like she doesn’t realise she’s doing it. She’s not really looking at you. Not often. Just quick glances. Then back down. Then away.

You’re talking about random things. Easy things. Football. Training. Travel. Things you are confident you have in common.

She tells you about a weird airport coffee she had in Zurich. You tell her about the time Teddy accidentally got locked in your bathroom for 20 minutes and emerged looking personally betrayed.

And every now and then, there’s a pause that lasts a little longer than it should. But neither of you fill it. You just let it be. Eventually, you nudge your leg gently against hers. “You’re quiet.”

Alexia shifts. “Am I?”

You smile. “A little. For someone who just flew here to hang out with me.”

She huffs a quiet laugh. It’s barely there. “I’m just…” She trails off. Shrugs. “I’m not good at this part.”

You tilt your head. “What part?”

She stares at the coffee table like it’s got answers. “The talking part.” You wait. She finally looks at you — really looks. “I know how to show up to a match,” she says, voice low. “How to lead. How to win. That makes sense to me. But this?” She gestures between you. “This is…” She doesn’t finish.

You finish it for her. “New.”

She nods. And for a second, you think maybe she’s going to stand up, shift away, hide behind something safe. But she doesn’t. She just sits there. Awkward. Present. Willing.

You offer a small, understanding smile. “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

She exhales, a little lighter now. “Good. Because I didn’t bring a tactics board.”

You both laugh. Softly. Easily. She doesn’t say anything else for a while — just leans back again, arms crossed over her chest now, head tilted slightly in your direction.

Eventually, she mumbles, almost like it’s for herself, “I’m glad I came too.” You nudge her foot with yours, with a gentle smile.

Alexia’s sitting sideways on the couch, one leg tucked under her, the other stretched out slightly, your hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up her forearms. You’re close, but not quite touching.

The conversation’s slowed to a hum — soft music talk, playlists, half-confessions about guilty pleasure songs. She mentions a Catalan band you’ve never heard of, and while she’s scrolling through her phone to find a song, your eyes drift downward.

And then you see it. A couple of faint lines on her knee. Pale, clean, but unmistakable. The scar. You pause. Not out of shock — you knew. You remember the coverage, the months out, the comeback.

But seeing it? That’s different. It’s not just a story now. It’s her. She notices your eyes drop. And for the first time all night, she goes still.

“Yeah,” she says softly, not quite looking at you. “That’s… that.”

You meet her eyes again. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t hide. But there’s something guarded in her voice. Like she’s used to people staring at it, asking about it, expecting something from it. You don’t ask. You just nod once, gentle. “Looks like strength,” you say, matter-of-fact.

Alexia’s brow furrows, unsure if you’re serious. But you are. She shifts slightly — not closer, but more open somehow. Her hand moves instinctively toward her knee, fingers grazing the scar once, like she’s reminding herself it’s still there.

“Sometimes it feels like I left a part of myself in there,” she murmurs. “The version of me from before.”

You let that hang. Then, quietly, “The version of you now scored against me. Twice.”

She huffs a breath. “Only one actually went in.”

“Still counts.”

She glances at you — and her smile is tired, genuine, laced with something like gratitude. Not for the words. For the way you didn’t try to fix it. Just saw it. And stayed.

The playlist she queued has faded into a quiet acoustic hum — soft, wordless, like it knows it shouldn’t interrupt. The light in the room has gone warm and low, one lamp casting golden arcs over her face as she leans back into the couch, knee still bent, hand still ghosting near the scar.

You don’t speak. You wait. And eventually — slowly — she does.

“I didn’t think I’d come back,” she says, voice low, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it’s easier not to look at you. “Not really.”

You blink, still, letting her keep control of it.

“Everyone kept saying I would. That I’d be fine. That I was strong, that I’d be back in a year. But inside…” She swallows. “I didn’t feel strong. I didn’t even feel whole. I felt… like I’d been cut out of myself.”

You shift just slightly. Not closer — not yet. But enough to let her know, I’m here. She breathes, slow.

“I’d watch games and feel like I didn’t belong anymore. Like I’d already been replaced. And I didn’t want anyone to know how scared I was because… I’m not supposed to be scared. I’m her, you know?” She finally looks at you now. “La Reina” You meet her eyes, steady. She adds, barely audible, “But I felt like glass.”

The words hang in the room — fragile, but not broken. You nod once. Then say the only thing you really believe in this moment. “I think you’re better now.”

Her brow pulls, confused. “What?”

You lean back, resting your head on the couch, looking up like she did. “You’re smarter. Sharper. Your passes don’t just thread — they cut. You’ve got control most people don’t even understand. And there’s a weight to the way you move now, like you know exactly what it costs to step back onto the pitch.”

You turn your head to her again.

“I’ve watched you before. Really watched you. You were always brilliant. But now?” You shrug. “You’re something else.”

Alexia stares at you, mouth parted slightly — like no one’s ever said it that way. Not like that. Not to her. She doesn’t say thank you. She just shifts — this time closer. Not dramatic. Just enough. Her shoulder brushes yours. Her knee bumps your thigh. And she lets out a breath that sounds a little like relief. “Thank you,” she murmurs eventually, eyes back on the scar. And then, softer: “I’ve never said that stuff out loud.”

You nod. “I know.” The quiet returns — not heavy this time. Comfortable. Like something sacred just happened, and you both know it.

She’s close now. Arm resting lightly against yours. Your hoodie sleeves bunching at her wrists. The scar still visible — but no longer raw. You glance down at her, the way her gaze has softened since she spoke, how her edges feel less guarded, like your living room gave her permission she didn’t even know she needed.

You swallow once. Think. Then speak. “You know… when I moved to Germany, people said it was career suicide.”

Alexia turns her head slightly, brows faintly drawn. Listening now. Not out of politeness. Intention. You stare ahead.

“Agents stopped calling. Interviews dried up. One coach — someone I used to really trust — told me I’d disappear. That I’d ‘fade out quietly.’” You huff a laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “I hadn’t even unpacked yet.”

Alexia is silent. Not interrupting. Just there.

“I’d scroll through social media and see all the squad updates, the camps, the conversations I wasn’t in anymore. And I thought… maybe they’re right. Maybe I peaked.”

You pause. Swallow.

“I started believing it. Like I was a mistake that was just waiting to happen.”

Alexia shifts slightly, her arm pressing into yours, grounding you.

“But then,” you continue, voice quieter now, “I played. I worked. And I kept showing up. And slowly… something changed. Not in them. In me.”

Alexia tilts her head. You glance at her.

“I stopped playing to prove people wrong,” you say. “And I started playing like they didn’t get a say.”

There’s a pause. And then—so soft you almost miss it—she says, “I noticed.”

You look at her. She’s watching you now — full on. Not blinking. Not shrinking. And when she speaks again, it’s steady.

“You didn’t disappear. You became better.”

You smile, but there’s a knot in your throat. Because you know she means it. And you never expected to hear it from her. Alexia leans her head back against the couch, her body still relaxed but her voice dipped low again.

“I know what that doubt feels like,” she says. “And I know how heavy it is to prove yourself to people who already made up their minds.”

You nod. “It’s exhausting.”

She murmurs, “And lonely.”

The room goes quiet again. But this time? Not lonely. Just two people sitting in a space neither of you were sure existed — honest, open, real. No spotlight. No pressure. Just you and her. And the ache you’ve both come back from.

⚽️

It’s late.

So late the playlist stopped a while ago. So late the city outside your windows feels like it’s on mute. You both stretch at almost the same time — that lazy, reluctant movement that means okay, maybe we should sleep but neither of you want to break the quiet just yet.

You stand first. Alexia follows. She’s still in your hoodie, tugging it down slightly, bare feet padding across the floor as you walk her to the guest room — side by side in a hush that feels warmer than anything words could’ve done.

You pause at the door.

She turns to face you, one hand on the doorframe. Her hair’s a little messy now, eyes slightly glassy with exhaustion. Her voice, when it comes, is soft and almost shy.

“Thanks for tonight.”

You smile, slow. “Thanks for coming.”

She nods, then looks down like she might say something else. But she doesn’t. You step back slightly, hands in your hoodie pockets, eyes flicking to hers.

“Goodnight, Alexia.”

She looks up at that. And for a second — just one second — the look on her face says everything else she didn’t say. Then she nods, once. Barely a smile. But it reaches her eyes. “Goodnight.”

She slips into the room. You don’t linger. Just turn toward your own — quiet footsteps down the short hall. You push the door open and Teddy. Right there, already curled up in the middle of your bed. One eye open, tail thumping lazily against the duvet like, about time.

You smile, rubbing the back of your neck as you sit on the edge of the bed. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You pick it up.

Alexia: Sleep well. You talk less than I thought you would. I liked it.

You stare at the message for a second, then type back:

You: You talk more than I thought you would. I liked it too.

Teddy sighs dramatically. You laugh under your breath. Then switch off the light. And for the first time in a long time, you fall asleep not needing to prove anything. Because she’s here. And you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

⚽️

You wake to the smell of coffee. And the distinct sound of Teddy betraying you. You roll out of bed, hair a mess, hoodie tugged low over your hands, padding barefoot into the kitchen where—There she is.

Alexia.

Still in your hoodie. One sock on, one foot bare. Mug in hand, eyes still puffy with sleep, standing at your counter while Teddy leans against her legs like he’s never loved anyone else.

She glances up when you walk in, and her smile is soft. Unbrushed. Unfiltered. Real.

“Morning,” she says, voice husky.

You squint. “How’d you find the biscuits?”

She holds up the mug in salute. “I’m elite. And you left a post-it that said ‘left cupboard, top shelf, if teddy won't leave you alone'.”

You grin. “I knew past-me had potential.”

She turns back to the counter, pouring more water into the kettle, while Teddy attempts to wedge himself between her and the cabinets, tail sweeping the floor like a metronome.

“You realise he’s using you,” you say, grabbing a clean mug.

“He can use me all he wants,” she says, reaching down to scratch his ears. “He’s warm.”

You watch her — the way her fingers slide under Teddy’s collar, the way her mouth twitches when he tries to climb into her actual lap. It’s not a moment. Not a capital-letter Event. But something in your chest aches anyway.

Because she looks right here.

You grab the eggs, start cracking them into the pan. She pulls down two plates without being asked. Neither of you talks much. Just a few sleepy comments, heads bumping once as you both reach for the cutlery drawer.

When you sit across from her at the little kitchen table — plates steaming, dog underfoot — she catches your eye as you tuck your leg up under you. She doesn’t look away. Not for a while.

You hold it. You hold her. And the smile she gives you. It says I see this. I feel it. I’m here.

After breakfast, you throw a hoodie over your tee, pull on your trainers, and rattle Teddy’s lead. He loses his mind, of course — spinning, barking, pawing at the door like it personally wronged him.

“You wanna come?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder at Alexia.

She shrugs. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

She throws on a coat of yours on hook, slips into her trainers, and follows you out the door — hair tied up, sleeves rolled down, sunglasses perched on her head like she forgot the sun lives here too despite the cold.

You walk through quiet neighbourhood streets, Teddy darting side to side, nose in every hedge. You and her? Side by side. Not touching. Not saying much. But every now and then, you catch her watching you. And when you glance back— She doesn’t look away.

You loop around the quiet end of the park, the noise of the street fading behind you, and find your bench — tucked under a tree just starting to bloom, a little weathered, sun-warmed. Teddy bounds ahead, lead dropped loose in your hand, tail sweeping in wide arcs like a painter’s brush.

Alexia sits first, arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying not to take up space but still wants to stay close. You drop beside her, leg stretched long, hands resting over your thighs.

For a while, you both just sit. Watching Teddy. Letting the quiet settle.

Then Alexia speaks, voice dry. “You really weren’t kidding about him being enthusiastic.”

You glance at her. She’s staring at Teddy, who’s currently rolling in something deeply questionable on the grass. You sigh.

“Yeah but he’s loyal.. until someone has better snacks anyway.”

She snorts. “I didn’t even have snacks.”

“Exactly,” you say, nudging her foot with yours. “He’s just shallow.”

She smirks, then leans back a little, adjusting the sleeves of your coat again. “He’s got taste, though. He likes me.”

You raise a brow. “Are you calling yourself a snack?”

“I’m not denying it.”

You laugh — sharp, sudden, surprised. And it makes her smile wider “You’ve got this whole mysterious captain thing,” you say, squinting at her. “But secretly, you’re kind of cocky.”

She tilts her head, smug. “Only when I’m right.” You roll your eyes, but your grin’s too soft to mean it. There’s a pause. Then, more gently “I like this,” she says, not looking at you now — just forward, at the dog, at the path.

You shift, the warmth of her words settling low in your ribs. “This?” you echo.

She nods. “The quiet. You. Teddy. This bench.” She pauses, then smirks again. “Even your coat.”

You laugh, quieter this time. “You make it look better than I do.”

“I know.” She meets your eyes then. And the silence that follows doesn't last long until you're leaning into each other laughing about it.

You clear your throat, picking at a thread on your sleeve, when the little old lady that you see everyday was eyeing you with annoyance, "So, um… are you always like this when you’re off the pitch?”

Alexia blinks. “Like what?”

You shrug. “A bit smug. Surprisingly funny. Secretly soft.”

She narrows her eyes, mock offended. “Secretly?”

You smirk. “I mean, the brand is very serious captain with cheekbones that could cut glass.”

Alexia hums. “Cheekbones and a scar. Very dramatic.”

“Oh, absolutely. You’re one trench coat away from being a Bond villain.” That gets a real laugh — full-bodied and sudden. She leans her head back against the bench, still smiling.

Then, “You make this easy,” she says, softer now. “Being here.”

You glance at her. And for a second, it’s all there again — the pitch, the free kick, the weight of it all.

But here, it’s light. You bump your knee gently against hers. “I’m glad you came, Alexia.” She doesn’t look away this time.

“I am too.”

You stretch your legs out in front of you, glancing sideways at her — Alexia, sitting there so casually now, one foot tucked beneath her, face tilted toward the sun like she’s been here a dozen times instead of just once.

You reach down to pat Teddy’s back as he wanders close.

Then glance at her.

“Do you like clichés?”

She lifts a brow. “What kind of question is that?”

You shrug, casual. “Like, romantic comedies. Grand gestures. Saying the same dumb things everyone else does. Standing on famous streets pretending you’re having an authentic experience.”

Alexia leans back, lips twitching. “You’re stalling.”

You grin. “Maybe.”

She squints at you now, playful. “Okay. Ask me properly.”

You turn toward her fully, arms folded over your chest like you’re about to deliver something serious.

“Would you like to do all the ridiculously cliché tourist things in Munich with me today?”

Alexia’s head tips slightly to the side, considering.

You keep going.

“I mean the whole deal — the Marienplatz selfie. Pretending to care about the Glockenspiel. Giant pretzels. A walk through the Englischer Garten where I’ll tell you lies about German history I definitely make up.”

Her smile creeps in slowly — then fully.

“I want lederhosen photos.”

You gasp, dramatically. “That’s advanced cliché.”

“I’m committed.”

You laugh. “God help us.”

She leans in slightly. “Only if you wear them too.”

You groan. “I’ve made a mistake.”

“You offered.”

You hold her gaze for a second, heart kicking a little louder now beneath all the lightness.

And she’s still smiling.

But there’s something genuine behind it.

Like maybe, for the first time in a long time, she’s just saying yes to a day that doesn’t come with pressure, or cameras, or expectations.

Just you.

She nudges your knee with hers. “So? We going or what?”

You whistle for Teddy. “Marienplatz, prepare yourself.”

⚽️

You start with Marienplatz. Because of course you do.

The crowds are already gathering under the watchful clock of the Neues Rathaus, phones out and necks craning toward the tower. You know the Glockenspiel starts at eleven. You’ve seen it a dozen times. It’s slow. It’s slightly underwhelming. But you still pretend like it’s sacred.

“People clap after this?” Alexia murmurs beside you, watching a small bronze knight rotate in a slow, juddering circle.

“Every time,” you whisper back. “It’s powerful.”

She gives you the driest look you’ve ever seen and it almost takes you out.

You snap a selfie right there — her unimpressed expression next to your exaggerated awe. It’s perfect. You don't even check it before saving.

From there it’s Viktualienmarkt — where you insist on finding the most absurdly oversized pretzel possible. Alexia watches you barter with a vendor and somehow ends up paying instead. She splits it with you anyway. You walk through the stalls like locals, even though you're both definitely not.

You buy her a little pin shaped like a beer stein. You stick it to her jacket pocket. “Souvenir,” she says.

You end up in the Englischer Garten by early afternoon, the kind of place where the trees stretch wide and people picnic like they’ve got nowhere else to be. Teddy loses his mind over a pigeon and nearly pulls Alexia into a fountain.

You don’t let that one go quietly. “Two time Ballon D'or, and you still couldn’t hold the line.”

“It was a��very fast pigeon.”

You laugh until you’re leaning against her, shoulder to shoulder, catching your breath while Teddy runs victory laps around you both.

At the beer garden, you sit under the shade of chestnut trees, and Alexia orders something she can’t pronounce while you pretend to translate and definitely make it worse.

She tries white sausage and doesn’t hide her reaction.

You raise a brow. “Too real?”

“I can mark out midfielders. I can’t defend this texture.”

You toast anyway.

Later, you wander without purpose — through side streets with painted shutters and ivy-streaked balconies, past musicians playing under archways and little kids holding balloon strings tight to their wrists. Alexia keeps her sunglasses low on her nose, watching it all.

“I get why you like it here,” she says.

You glance over. “Yeah?”

She nods, then adds softly, “You fit here.”

It sticks.

You end up near the river as golden hour starts to take the edge off the buildings. There’s a stone ledge overlooking the water. You sit. She leans back on her hands, face turned to the sky.

“Okay,” she says finally. “This was... fun.”

You grin. “You sound surprised.”

“I am. I didn’t think cliché could feel like this.”

“Like what?”

She glances at you. Her expression doesn’t change much — but her voice does. “Easy.”

You don’t say anything for a second. Just smile. Then bump her knee gently with yours. “Think we earned ice cream?”

She tilts her head. “Is that part of the cliché package?”

“Obviously.”

You walk back into the city with cones in hand, Teddy leading the way again, tail wagging like a metronome keeping time with your steps.

And somewhere along that walk — maybe crossing a street, or brushing hands as you trade bites of each other’s flavours — something soft settles between you.

Not tension. Not expectation. Just understanding.

⚽️

You swing by the flat first — the front door barely closed before Teddy flops dramatically across the hallway floor like he’s survived something immense.

Alexia kneels down beside him, ruffles behind his ears, and says, “You’ll be alright without us.”

He sighs like he won’t.

You both change quickly — nothing fancy, just different hoodies, fresh faces, the kind of casual that looks better on her than it has any right to.

The bar you pick is a local one — tucked into a side street off the main square, part wine bar, part café, part 'we might have regulars but we won’t pretend to know your name unless you want us to.'

You take the corner table. The lights are soft and golden, the walls cluttered with mismatched frames and shelves of wine bottles. You order a bottle of white you’ve had before — one you hope she’ll like — and a snack board that arrives faster than expected: warm bread, cheese, olives, salted almonds.

She looks around, impressed. “You bring all your international friends here?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Only the ones who knock me out the champions league.”

“Fair,” she says, hiding a smile behind her glass.

You’ve barely had a sip before you reach into your bag and pull out a battered Uno deck.

Alexia blinks. “You brought cards?”

“They have them as you walk in. I’m competitive,” you say, shrugging. “And brave.”

She laughs once, short and sharp. “You’re going to regret this.”

“I’ve already accepted that.” You deal. And it begins.

It starts civil. Friendly. Smirks over skips. Light jabs when she stacks draw twos. You both pick at the snack board between plays, hands brushing occasionally as you reach for the same olive.

But by the second game, It’s personal.

She slams down a reverse like it’s a tactical sub in a final. You pull a draw four from your hoodie pocket like a weapon of war. She narrows her eyes. You lift your brows, mock-innocent.

It’s deadly serious. It’s ridiculous. And you’re both grinning like you haven’t stopped since this morning.

The bar starts to fill in slowly, but your little corner stays quiet — like a bubble you haven’t noticed growing around you. Just you, her, your wine glasses catching the light, and a stack of discarded cards that tells a very messy, very entertaining story.

Somewhere between games, you pause — mid-sip, watching her draw her hand.

“Are you always like this?” you ask. “Lowkey evil under all that calm?”

She looks up, unbothered. “Only when provoked.”

You laugh, leaning back. “Remind me not to cross you again.”

She smirks, eyes flicking up at you over her cards. “You already did,” she says, laying down a wild card.

The round ends. She wins.

You groan dramatically and throw your cards onto the table. She raises her hands in mock celebration, then quietly steals another piece of cheese from your side of the board.

“You know,” she says casually, chewing, “This might be the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

You blink. She doesn’t look up right away — just flips the deck over and starts reshuffling it absentmindedly.

But you’re watching her. And there’s no doubt in your mind. She means it.

⚽️

The walk home from the bar is slow. No rush. No real conversation either. Just a lot of little smiles. Shoulders brushing sometimes. The city quieter now — streetlights pooling in soft circles at your feet.

When you reach your building, you both slip inside quietly, Teddy greeting you at the door with a sleepy grumble and a thump of his tail.

You toe off your shoes, hang your jacket, glance over at her — and then, impulsively:

“Wanna see something stupid?”

Alexia blinks. “Not usually the way someone convinces me to follow them, but… sure.”

You grin.

You lead her through the flat — past the living room, into your bedroom. Teddy hops onto the bed like he’s reclaiming his kingdom. You move to the window — the one you always leave cracked just a little — and unlatch it the rest of the way.

You glance back at her.

She’s standing with her arms folded, watching you like she’s bracing for something truly ridiculous.

You duck out first — onto the sloped bit of roofing just beyond the window, socks scraping softly against the tiles. You crouch low, then stand carefully, balancing with practiced ease.

You turn and beckon. Alexia just stares. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

She steps closer, looks out.

The drop’s not that bad. 22 feet, maybe. But the tiles are slick with dew, and there’s no railing, no barrier, no sensible adult supervision.

“This is wildly unsafe,” she mutters.

You just smile. “Come on. I’m not gonna let you fall.”

She glares at you, muttering something in Catalan that sounds very judgmental. But you can see it — the twitch at the corner of her mouth. She’s not really mad.

She’s just concerned. Which somehow only makes it better.

After a few more seconds of muttering under her breath, she sighs dramatically, steps up onto the ledge, and eases herself through the window with surprising grace — a little unsteady at first, reaching for your hand instinctively.

You catch it. Steady her. “See?” you say, squeezing her fingers lightly. “Easy.”

“Still stupid,” she mutters.

But she doesn’t pull away. You lead her a few steps up — careful, slow — until you both settle onto the slightly flatter part of the roof, side by side, legs pulled up to your chest..

She finally looks up the whole city stretches out in front of her.

The rooftops curve into the skyline, lights twinkling like fallen stars. The dark river cuts a lazy path through the buildings. A few stray sirens whine in the distance, but mostly it’s just quiet. Wide and open and impossibly still.

Alexia exhales — a soft, almost disbelieving sound. The corners of her mouth lift. And whatever worry she had before melts off her shoulders.

“Okay,” she says, voice lighter now. “Maybe it’s worth the risk.”

You bump your knee against hers. “Told you.”

You sit like that for a long time — no rush, no plan. Just the two of you, the city breathing around you, your hands close enough to touch if you dared.

Every now and then, you glance over and catch her watching the lights, the horizon, the night itself like she’s letting herself believe she could belong to something this simple.

The climb back in through the window is quieter than the climb out.

Alexia moves slower now, heavy with the kind of tired that comes after a day full of laughter and nowhere to be but here. She drops softly into your bedroom, feet padding across the floor, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands again.

You follow behind, closing the window gently behind you.

Teddy’s already curled up on the bed, barely lifting his head to acknowledge your return. He gives Alexia one approving thump of the tail. You’re not sure if it’s for coming back safely or for still being here.

You rub at the back of your neck, eyes a little hazy, wine long gone.

Alexia stands in the doorway to the guest room now, hand on the frame. Her expression is soft — not sleepy exactly, just settled.

She looks at you. And it hits again — this moment. How simple it is. How much it means. You lean against the wall across from her, arms crossed loosely, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“I’ll make sure you don’t miss your flight in the morning,” you say.

She smirks faintly. “You better.”

“I’ll set three alarms.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Four.”

You laugh, quiet and tired. “Pushy.”

She shrugs. “Punctual.”

The pause that follows isn’t awkward. It’s full. Of all the things neither of you are saying right now. But it’s okay. You already said so much.

She shifts slightly, head tilting. “Today was…”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t have to.

You step forward, and without thinking, you pull her into a light hug — not long, not heavy, but enough. Enough to feel the warmth of her hoodie, the steady beat of her breath, the soft slide of her hand as it rests briefly on the back of your head.

You pull back just a little. She’s still close. “Goodnight, Alexia.”

Her eyes flicker — tired and unreadable, but warmer now “Goodnight.”

She steps into the guest room and closes the door behind her with a gentle click. You exhale.

Teddy stretches across your bed with a groan like he just ran the city.

You flick off the hallway light, pad back into your room, and crawl beneath the covers.

The room is dark now. But your chest is full. And your alarms are definitely set. Tomorrow she leaves.

⚽️

The alarms buzz you awake just after six.

Teddy barely lifts his head as you stumble into the kitchen, yawning, the world outside still caught between night and day.

Alexia’s already up. You find her sitting on the edge of the couch, tying her sneakers — hair messy, hoodie slung loose over her frame, backpack by her feet.

She looks up when you walk in, and there’s a small, tired smile waiting for you. “Morning,” she says, voice thick with sleep.

You hum a reply, rubbing your eyes. Neither of you rush.

You load Teddy into the backseat. He whines a little, sensing something is different. The drive to the airport is quiet — warm coffee cups in the holders, the radio playing something soft neither of you bother to change.

She leans her forehead against the window once, watching the fields blur into concrete. When you pull up to Departures, you leave the car idling, glancing over at her.

She’s already unbuckling her seatbelt, but neither of you move right away.

The city is waking up outside. You’re wide awake here. Alexia shifts in her seat to face you. “This was…” She trails off, the words sticking again.

You smile, small. “Yeah. It was.”

She fiddles with the ring on her finger.

You grip the steering wheel lightly. “You’ll make your flight.”

She nods. “Thanks for not letting me oversleep.”

You bump your shoulder against hers gently. “Thanks for making it hard to say goodbye.”

That gets a real smile — tired, fond, a little crooked. She opens the door, stepping out into the sharp morning air. You get out too.

You meet her around the back of the car — not rushed, not dramatic. Just standing there, with a sea of taxis and early travelers moving around you like another current you’re not ready to step into yet.

She shoulders her bag. You jam your hands into your hoodie pockets.

Then — simply — she steps closer. You think she might hug you. You think you might need her to.

But instead, she reaches up — slow, careful — and hooks one finger lightly around your hoodie drawstring. Tugs it once. Soft. Playful.

“Text me when you get home,” you say, even though you’re already sure she will.

Alexia nods. “You too.”

And then — because she knows when to let things stay perfect — she turns and walks toward the entrance. You watch her weave through the doors. She doesn’t look back. Not until she’s just inside, bag slung over one shoulder, ticket in hand. Then she does. Just once.

She finds you through the glass — through the crowd and the noise and the press of the world. She smiles. Small. Sure. Enough.

You lift a hand. She does too. Then she’s gone, swallowed into the current of the airport.

You stand there a moment longer, breath fogging in the chill, Teddy’s nose nudging your hand.

You pat his head. Then you climb back into the car. And drive home, to grab a few more hours of sleep before training.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: sweetheart!anakin x f!reader

FLUFF ❦

The bedroom you were snugly in was dressed in quiet, its walls wrapped up in that heavy kind of silence that only came after a long, exhausting day of twins' parents. As to in their matter, they were finally asleep, snuggled in their sheets after ANAKIN SKYWALKER's bedtime story about a princess and a knight - you quickly had to come up with something else, knowing Leia’s full dislike for such stories. She was the epitome of the definition of not needing a knight to survive. She could have had it all done by herself, at least that's what she's saying.

You laid on the bed, tucked under the covers, chin propped on your hand, watching him move around the room.

Anakin was pulling an old, loose t-shirt over his head—the one that always smelled like him, the one that clung to his shoulders and chest before falling soft over his abs, the lines of his body still sharp and distractingly perfect even after a full day of wrangling toddlers and working.

You stared a little too long. Stared until your stomach knotted itself up in a sad, ugly kind of way.

Because there he was, looking like he could be carved out of stone —

and then there was you.

You tugged the blanket a little higher up your body without even thinking, voice barely a whisper when you finally spoke without much thought; it was already eating you alive.

"…Annie?"

He turned immediately, sensing the shift in your mood like he always did. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

You hesitated, biting your lip.

You hated how small you sounded.

How insecure. But with his eyes gazing straight at yours as he slipped into the black shirt he used to bed, you truly understood what you just caught yourself in. It wasn't like you wanted to weight him down with your problems, he already had a lot on his plate. Yet at the same time, if you'd just brush it off, he'd know something is off, and won't let go of the subject till you'd eventually tell him

You braced yourself at the possible worst thing that could ever leave your mouth; you took a deep breath in, let it sink for a moment

"Are you still… attracted to me?" The words left your mouth too fast, too rushed, as if saying them quicker would somehow make them hurt less than they already did.

Anakin froze, a soft, almost pained crease forming between his brows. "What?"

You dropped your gaze to the blanket, fidgeting with a loose thread.

"I just—" you sighed, voice starting to crack.."I know you love me. But I want you to, you know… want me too. Not just because I'm the mother of your kids or your wife or whatever. But because… because you actually want me." You trailed off, cheeks burning, shame curling in your chest. You didn't dare to look up at him; there was no courage for that anymore "I just feel so… gross lately. Tired. Soft. Fat. Not like the girls you work with or--or just see on TV..And sometimes I look at you—" You swallowed hard. "—and I wonder if maybe you're just staying nice things because you're a good man..and not..because..you mean them.."

The room was so still you could hear the distant hum of the air conditioning.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You thought he might get mad at you; for doubting his love for you when he shows it everyday. He didn't say anything, and you really braced yourself to just brush off the subject but before you could even open your mouth to say anything, you saw him cross the room in three long strides—

and then his hands moved to you, pulling the blanket down, not to expose, but to pull you closer to himself. Anakin knelt at the side of the bed, face right there, one hand cupping your jaw so gently it made your throat tighten.

His thumb brushed across your cheek. Blue eyes burned into your watery ones, being so intense, so present; holding so much love.

"Sweetheart," he said, voice rough and low. "I’m gonna say this once. And you're gonna listen to me, alright?"

You nodded, tears already threatening to spill.

"I don’t just love you," Anakin murmured, his forehead dropping to yours. "I am in love with you. Every fucking day. Every hour."

You whimpered softly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"And your body—" his large hands slid down to your hips, squeezing firmly, grounding. "—your body is the most beautiful thing i could ever imagine looking at. It gave me our babies. It holds my heart. It’s the first thing I reach for in the morning and the last thing I hold at night. It’s perfect, you are perfect for me" with that he kissed the tip of your nose, then your cheeks, then your trembling mouth.

"I don't want anyone else," he whispered against your lips. "I only want you. Always have. Always will."

You broke then, a little sob escaping with hiccuped apologies, and Anakin shushed you gently, pulling you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin. With one hand holding your back, the other twisted to the side to turn the lights off, causing the darkness to touch the room. Then he cuddled closer to you, keeping a rhytmhmical tune slip from his mouth as he pulled a duvet over both of you, tucking you into the bed. "You don’t have to apologize," he said softly, rocking you slightly.

"You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to hurt. But don’t you dare talk about my girl like she’s anything less than a fucking masterpiece."

You clung to him, breathing in his scent, feeling the steady thump of his heart against your ear. And for the first time in days, the knot in your chest started to unravel. Anakin shifted slightly, hands stroking your back.

"You wanna know what I see when I look at you?" he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

You nodded wordlessly.

"I see my home," he whispered. "My safe place. The love of my life."

You sniffled, laughing a little wetly. "You’re sappy."

His lips curled in a little tired smile, a light sound of silent chuckle briefly following "I don't remember you complaining before, Rapunzel" he teased, kissing your hair once again "Thought you loved your Flynn Rider"

And god, you did.

You loved him.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl @fredswrite

[secretl1fe0fm3]

all your exes ~ billie eilish x fem!reader

“you tell me not to worry, im the only thing you see. well, yeah, i fucking better be.”

warnings: smut, jealous!billie, dom!billie, dirty talk, degradation, fingering, orgasm denial, strap(r!receiving), handcuff usage, established relationship

an: this is pure filth!! (who’s shocked) y’all showed so much love to obsessive, and this is another product of that universe, a sister fic in a way (LOVE possessive!billie) i really recommend listening to all your exes by julia michaels while reading! enjoy (or don’t) mwah <3

18+ minors dni!!!

2.2k words

The music is pounding against the walls, bass vibrating through the floorboards of the random house you were at. You’re standing in the kitchen, drink in hand, laughing at something dumb your friend said. You were unaware of Billie somewhere across the room, talking with a friend as well, half watching you, half engaging in the pointless conversation she was having. Her drink untouched in her ring clad fingers.

You don’t notice the moment your ex slides up beside you, too lost in your tipsy state to realize. It’s easy to miss, with the noise, the warmth of the room, the way you’re already eager to greet whoever’s nearby, socializing with every person there.

“Hey, stranger,” they say, voice sickeningly sweet and leaning way too close.

You blink, your eyes widening instantly at the familiar voice, surprise flashing across your face. It takes you not even a second to recognize the figure smiling at you.

“Oh my god, hi!” you laugh, a little too loudly, setting your cup down to throw your arms around them in a quick hug. Just friendly, you think, but they don’t pull away as fast as you do.

Billie’s jaw clenches so hard it aches. She watches the way you hug them and smile with that big, genuine grin you save for people you actually like. It makes her stomach burn as she watches you, her friend falling silent as she realizes Billie’s attention is else where. She crosses her arms tighter, waiting, studying the way your ex talks animatedly, brushing your waist with their fingers, the way their eyes linger on your mouth every time you laugh.

You, blissfully oblivious, laugh and nod with them, cracking jokes every so often. It was all innocent in your eyes, just catching up with an old friend.

Billie doesn’t say a word or intervenes. She just watches.

———

The car ride home is dead silent. You’re humming to yourself, scrolling through your phone, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. Billie’s hands are tight around the steering wheel, her knuckles white, the streetlights flashing across her face in hard, cold slashes.

You don’t notice. You’re still thinking about the party, already missing the warm buzz of the room and the loud music.

When Billie pulls up to her place, you stumble a little getting out of the car. Billie’s right there, steadying you with a hand on your waist, gentle but tense. You grin up at her, mumbling, “You’re so sweet.”

She doesn’t smile back.

———

Inside, you kick your shoes off, stumbling a little clumsily in the entryway. Billie shuts the door behind you with a soft click. You start rambling about the night, about how fun it was, about how weird it was seeing old faces, but she cuts you off.

“Do you have any idea what you were doing?” she asks, voice low and unwavering.

You blink at her. “What?”

“Your ex.” She spits the words out like they are poison on her tongue. “They were all over you.”

You frown, confused, stepping closer. “No they weren’t. We were just talking, Bils.”

Billie laughs once, sharp and humorless. “You’re kidding me. You didn’t see the way they were looking at you?”

You shake your head stubbornly, the alcohol still clouding your judgement. “You’re overthinking it.”

Billie’s jaw tightens at your words. Her eyes narrow as she stares at you for a moment, silence filling the foyer.

“No, I’m not,” she says, voice cold. She steps closer, slow and deliberate, until your back hits the wall with a soft thud. “You’re just too drunk to realize how fucking lucky you are that I didn’t drag you out of that party the second they laid a hand on you.”

You blink up at her, throat dry, all words dying on your tongue.

Billie leans in, breath ghosting your ear. Her voice drops, rough and quiet. “I think you need a reminder,” she murmurs, “of who you belong to.”

Before you can make a snarky comment, her lips crash against yours, taking you by surprise and your breath away. Her hands find your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp out against her lips. She smirks into the kiss, satisfied.

“Bedroom,” she commands, voice low and leaving no room for argument.

Billie’s hand wraps around your wrist as she tugs you toward the hallway without another word. The house feels too quiet now, every creak of the floor under your steps loud in the heavy air between you. Your skin forms goosebumps with anticipation, heart racing faster with every step Billie takes in front of you.

When you reach the bedroom, she doesn’t rush. She closes the door gently behind her. Billie leans back against the door, arms folded, hooded eyes dragging over your body in a way that makes you feel stripped bare already.

“Strip,” she says, voice low, unbothered, like it’s just a casual request, and not a degrading demand.

You hesitate, just for a second.

Her eyebrow lifts. “Now.”

You swallow hard, fingers fumbling as you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. She watches as you shimmy out of your jeans, standing there in nothing but your underwear, feeling the weight of her gaze burn into your cold skin.

“All of it,” she adds, her lips curving into a slow, smug smile.

Heat floods your cheeks as you slip your bra straps down your arms, letting it fall to the floor, then hook your thumbs into your panties and slide them down, stepping out of them. Completely bare under the heaviness of her stare, you shift awkwardly, arms twitching toward covering yourself.

Billie clicks her tongue.

“Uh-uh, baby. Let me look at you.”

You drop your hands to your sides, chest heaving as you try and take a deep breath.

“That’s better,” she murmurs, pushing off the door at last.

She crosses the room towards you before stopping right in front of where you’re standing, her finger lifting to trail slowly down your throat, your chest, your stomach, barely touching, just enough to make you shiver.

“So sweet,” she muses out loud, tilting her head, “and so fucking clueless sometimes.”

You open your mouth to argue, but her hand trails back up and closes lightly around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, a silent warning. You whimper, spine arching into her.

“Not gonna let you forget again,” she promises.

You barely register her moving away from you until you hear the soft clink of metal. You blink, breath stuttering, as Billie pulls a pair of handcuffs from the drawer by the bed, twirling them once on her finger, taunting you.

“Get on the bed,” she orders.

You scramble back onto the mattress, heart pounding. Billie follows, climbing over you, straddling your hips for a moment just to smirk down at you before grabbing your wrists and clicking the cuffs around them, locking you to the headboard.

The cold bite of metal against your skin sends a surge of warmth through your lower belly.

“Perfect,” Billie breathes, admiring the way you look spread out for her, her pupils expanding at the sight.

She slides her hand slowly down your stomach again, nails scratching lightly, until she cups your already throbbing heat. You writhe instinctively, desperate for her, but she just chuckles under her breath.

“So needy already,” she teases, dragging a single finger between your soaked folds, just barely touching where you need her the most. You whimper, trying to push your hips into her hand, but she pulls back.

“Aw. Poor baby,” Billie mocks, fake sympathy dripping from every word. “You let some fucking loser at a party touch you but now you wanna act desperate for me? That’s cute.”

You whine loudly, the humiliation and degrading words mixing in your gut, making your head spin.

She gives in after a moment of listening to nothing but your desperate whines, sliding two fingers in, slow and deep. Her thrusts start slow, not quite hitting your sweet spot, but it’s at least something. Before you can get used to it, she pulls her fingers out quickly, leaving you clenching around nothing. You sob quietly, tugging against the cuffs.

“Not yet,” Billie says sweetly, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “You don’t get to come until I say. Understand?”

You nod frantically, your body writhing on the bed desperately. “Y-Yes, Billie.”

“Good girl.”

She sinks her fingers back into you, curling them just right, dragging against that spot that makes your vision blur. You moan loudly, thighs shaking, so close already, but just as your body tenses, ready to fall over the edge, she pulls away again, smirking at the way you sob her name in frustration.

“You look so fucking pathetic like this,” she murmurs, dragging her fingers back through your soaked folds with excruciating slowness, circling your clit with a feather light touch. “So desperate for me. Just dripping and begging, and you still think you’re not mine, hm?”

You whimper, shaking your head quickly.

She pulls back, and for a moment, you fear she’s going to leave you hanging again, but then you hear the faint sound of the nightstand drawer opening. You lift your head off the pillows weakly, wrists straining against the cuffs, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of her pulling out her dark purple strap, buckling it around her hips with ease.

Billie meets your wide, desperate eyes and grins. She strokes the toy in one hand, slow and deliberate, letting you watch as your mouth waters with anticipation.

“You gonna be good for me now?” Billie asks, voice almost sweet, almost kind, but you know better.

“Yes,” you choke out, nodding frantically. “Please, Billie. Need you, so bad.”

“Yeah,” she breathes lowly, climbing onto the bed between your spread thighs, one hand bracing beside your hip. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

Without another word, she lines herself up and pushes inside in one slow, devastating thrust, filling you completely. You cry out, back arching off the mattress, the sudden fullness dizzying, overwhelming. Billie doesn’t move at first, just stays buried to the hilt, watching your every twitch and gasp with dark satisfaction.

“God, you feel so good,” she mutters, more to herself than to you, hips grinding down in slow, shallow circles that make you whimper and sob beneath her.

“You were made for me,” Billie whispers, voice ragged against your ear. “This body, this pussy,” Her fingers tap your clit twice, making you twitch. “Its all mine. You get that now, baby?”

“Y-Yes,” you sob, tears threatening to spill at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of it all. “Yours, Billie. Only yours.”

“Fuckin’ right you are,” she growls, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you, setting a brutal, relentless rhythm that has the headboard rattling against the wall.

She keeps one hand braced beside your head, the other roaming, squeezing your throat lightly, grabbing your hips to hold you still, sliding between your bodies to rub slow, cruel circles on your clit just when you’re about to lose it.

“You’re such a good little thing,” she pants, hips thrusting forward sharply. “So dumb, so pretty, so fucking easy for me. But only me, right? Only ever me.”

You’re babbling now, barely coherent, nodding frantically and repeating Billies name inbetween gasps and sobs, nails scratching uselessly against the cuffs, desperate to touch her.

Billie leans down, mouth hovering by your ear, voice wrecked and shaking. “Say it,” she demands, her breath hot against your skin. “Tell me.”

“Yours!” you sob out, tears slipping down your temples from the intense pleasure. “Only yours, Billie. I swear, please, all yours.”

The desperate sincerity in your voice cracks something inside her. Her thrusts grow sloppier, harder, her free hand stroking your cheek almost tenderly now, even as she fucks you mercilessly into the mattress.

“Good girl,” she groans, and you feel yourself unraveling, the pleasure crashing through you like a tidal wave. “Come for me. Let everybody fucking know who you belong to.”

You instantly shatter, your orgasm ripping through you intensely, a loud moan mixed with a scream escapes your lips. Your body convulses under her, every nerve lit up, your entire world narrowing down to Billie.

She helps you ride through it, slowing only when your thighs twitch helplessly and your body goes limp, trembling beneath her.

After a moment of catching her breath, she finally pulls out and reaches up to uncuff you, working the metal free with gentle fingers, careful not to hurt you.

Your arms fall uselessly around her neck, your wrists aching. She pulls you into her lap, cradling you against her chest as you try to catch your own breath.

You bury your face in the crook of her neck, still shaking from your climax. A sudden wave of devotion courses through you, wanting to quiet any second thoughts Billie might be having after tonight.

“You’re the only one I see, Bils.” you whisper, voice wrecked but sure, every word carved out from the very center of your heart.

Billie pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, cheeks flushed as she grins, her smile so full of love it almost breaks you all over again.

“Yeah,” she says, voice softer and certain, thumb stroking lazily along your jaw, “I fucking better be.”

my masterlist

[ambersinterlude]

Submission Hold

Word Count : 1.4k

Jey Uso x Reader

Warnings : age gap (reader is 22), anal play, pure smut

OMNISCIENT |

You were always running your mouth. That’s what started it.

You’d been backstage at Raw, cocky off a clean win, still glistening with sweat and adrenaline when you started teasing Jey. “That was cute, old man,” you smirked, watching him unwrap his tape.

“Think you can keep up with the young ones like me much longer?”

He raised one eyebrow. You knew that look.

“Old man, huh?” he repeated slowly, stepping closer. “Bet I could still tap your cocky little ass out faster than anybody in that locker room.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged, biting your lip. “Prove it.”

That’s how the bet started. A friendly spar after hours. First one to get pinned taps out and takes a punishment.

You were fast. Smart. Bratty. Thought you could outmaneuver him.

But Jey Uso was 39, seasoned, and every inch of his body moved like it knew yours—like he’d studied your weaknesses just to break you. He toyed with you for ten minutes before flipping you onto your stomach, face pressed to the mat, your ass in the air. His body was a furnace against yours, heavy, hard, locked in place. His hand pinned both wrists above your head.

“You still runnin’ that mouth?” he whispered against your ear. “Huh, baby?”

You tapped. And immediately regretted it when he grinned.

“Pack your shit,” he said, standing up. “We got dinner plans. You gonna wear somethin’ tight… and what I give you underneath it.”

──

Hours later, you were in the hotel bathroom, palms braced on the counter, panting as jey held you still while inching the plug inside of your second hole—metallic, rose gold, curved just right. Your walls clenched as he eased it in, gasping softly when it popped into place. Jey then slipped the vibrating panties over your thighs. Sleek black, nearly invisible under the tight dress.

You met your own gaze in the mirror, flushed and flustered, chest rising and falling fast. Your pierced nipples peeked through the sheer mesh of your bra.

Behind you, Jey leaned in and tugged your hair to tilt your head back. “Such a pretty lil thing,” he growled. “Full of attitude til it’s time to obey.”

He held up the remote and. “You ready?”

“No,” you whispered as you bit your lip nervously.

He smirked. “Too bad.”

──

The restaurant was upscale, dimly lit, gold accents and crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow. Your heels clicked on the marble floor as the host guided you to a booth in the corner. Private. Cozy. Dangerous.

You tried to act normal. Legs crossed, hands folded. But the plug pulsed low in your ass, and your clit buzzed with every flick of the panties. He didn’t hit you with full power—no, Jey was mean. He kept it just enough to keep you needy. Dripping. On edge.

He sipped his whiskey and smirked at your squirming. “Table too cold or you just achin for attention?”

You glared, voice low. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

Then he turned the intensity up—slow, steady vibration that made your thighs tremble. Your mouth fell open in a soft gasp. You bit your lip and glanced around. A couple sat one table over. A waiter passed behind you.

“Jey,” you hissed. “Someone’s gonna notice—”

He leaned over the table, voice low and full of threat. “That’s the point. You wanna act like a brat, baby girl? You better learn how to cum quiet.”

You tried. You really did. But by the time dessert arrived, you were shaking, thighs clamped tight. The plug throbbed deep. The panties buzzed mercilessly. And then—he hit the pulse setting.

Your orgasm hit like a wave—slow and intense. You squeezed your eyes shut and moaned low into your wine glass as your body twitched.

“Good girl,” he murmured, brushing your hand beneath the table. “That sweet pussy’s dripping for me isn’t she?”

You whimpered. The waiter showed up just as you tried to compose yourself, cheeks flushed, dress sticking to your damp thighs.

You were wrecked. And he was smug.

──

He drove the car himself. One hand on the wheel. The other on your thigh.

“You still got one more mess in you before we hit the hotel,” he said, rubbing slow circles. “C’mere. Be a good girl. Show daddy how deep that throat is.”

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you leaned over like you’d done it a thousand times, releasing him and dragging your tongue along the thick vein of his shaft. He hissed when you swallowed him halfway, fingers threading into your hair.

“Don’t stop,” he grunted as he bucked his hips up. “Fuck. You sucking my shit up baby.” At this point, Jey’s hand was wrapped in your hair.

You moaned around him, spit dripping down your chin, his dick hitting the back of your throat as the plug inside you kept pulsing. Every bump in the road jolted the toy deeper. You gagged, and he growled.

“That’s it. That’s my fuckin good girl.”

He came down your throat right as you turned into the hotel garage—and made you swallow every drop. You lifted yourself up and smiled innocently at him.

──

As soon as the suite door shut, he slammed you against the wall.

“Strip.”

You peeled the dress off slowly, shaking with need. Your nipples stood hard and pierced, and he groaned at the sight.

“Fuck. Look at those pretty tits.” He dropped to his knees, tongue lapping at your pierced nipples, fingers working the plug out of you with a wet pop.

“Turn around”

Turning around you see yours and his reflection in the floor length mirror. He walked up slowly behind you.

“You want it?”

“Yes” you responded with a slight whimper.

“You better take all this shit”

“Put your hands behind your back”

As you did so, he slightly bent you over. Pulling your panties down and teasingly pulling at the plug. You moaned as he fully removed it. He then pulled out his dick and slid right in—slow, deliberate strokes that made your reflection rattle. He didn’t even give you a chance to adjust. He stared at the mirror as he fucked you hard, one hand tangled in your hair, the other on your throat.

“Look at you. So cocky earlier… now you just a fuckin’ mess.”

As their gazed locked in the mirror he stared beating her insides. The room was filled with skin slapping, and your moans.

“D-daddy” you moaned. He was pummeling your pussy. Hitting that spongy spot. You couldn’t take it.

Soon enough you squirted on his dick and all over the floor. He laughed.

“There she go.”

Legs trembling he shoved his thumb into your ass mid-stroke. You screamed.

Then he pulled out completely. Holding tightly onto you to ensure you didn’t fall. As yall walked over to the bed. You immediately knew what to do. Getting on all fours.

Jey comes behind you, stroking his dick. Looking at your second hole clench around nothing. He snickered to himself as he slapped your backside causing you to jolt foward and whine

“Be still.” He growled

You soon felt his tip inching inside of your second whole. You gasped.

“B-baby” you moaned, looking back at him with watery eyes.

“You like that nasty shit, huh?”

You nodded, crying, voice cracked. “Yes—please—fuck, I can’t take it daddy.. i can’t”

You pushed at his abdomen. Jey didn’t like that. He grabbed your wrist and pinned it behind your back.

“You’re gonna take it. You gonna take all of it.”

He slipped the tip out of your second hole and flipped you on your side. Slow, grinding strokes as he pushed his thumb your mouth and you gladly sucked on it.

“You’re mine. All mine.”

He removed his thumb out of your mouth following behind roughly grabbing your jaw. “Open wide for me baby”

Being the good girl you were, you opened up for him. Letting his spit hit the back of your throat. You happily swallowed.

“Mmmm” you moaned while staring back at jey who was pummeling your pussy.

Jey looked down watching you cream all over him. Her legs shaking.

“Look at you, creaming all over this dick. You love creaming on daddy dick?” He asked as his strokes became rougher.

He was fucking you so good, you couldn’t even respond. You didn’t even comprehend anything he had said.

“I asked you a fucking question! Huh? You love creaming on this dick” as he grabbed your throat and brought your face closer to his. So close you could feel his breath on your lips.

“Ugnhh- yes d-daddy! I love creaming on your dick— ohmygodd”

He fucked you all night—from the mirror to the bed, backshots that made the headboard slam, deep strokes with his hand gripping your throat, spitting in your mouth, cum leaking out of both holes.

──

The next morning you woke up in his arms, legs sore, body wrecked.

He kissed your shoulder, warm and soft now, thumb tracing lazy circles over your thigh.

“You okay, baby girl?” he whispered, voice gentle.

You nodded, voice raw. “Mhm.”

“Need anything?”

“Water. A hug. A new spine.”

He laughed and pulled you closer, kissing the back of your neck.

“Next time,” he whispered, “you better win the bet.”

─────────────────────────

Published : 04/25/25

Okay guys, i really hope yall liked this. Again im a new writer so not too much on me lmaoo but yeah. I really hope you guys enjoyed lmkkk😘

[jkholiic]

all mine

“and i hit it like it’s all mine” ! . . jungkook gives you a good fucking.

pairing boyfriend!jungkook x fem!reader

genre smut

warnings praise, swearing, dirty talk, spanking, biting, tit play, clit play, unprotected but he pulls out, crying, dacryphilia squirting butterfly + missionary, cumming on stomach

a/n first post... lmk what you think.

“Relax baby,”

Jungkook gives a slight chuckle, hands rubbing the sides of your parted thighs.

You were uncontrollably clenching around his dick, only partly inside of you, making it hard for him to push in all the way.

“Relax.” He repeats, his voice dropping low, the impatience in his words now evident.

His dark brown eyes pierce straight into yours, he slowly pushes forwards, humming when he feels you stretching around the size of him.

“So good...” He praises, sliding his hands down your thighs, hooking under each leg to put them over his broad shoulders.

He leans over you, continuing to sink himself inside of you until he’s all the way in.

He grip your calves, holding your legs stead as he begins to fuck his throbbing cock in and out of your hole.

“My pretty baby…” He mutters, pulling his hips back, eyes transfixed on his semi-exposed cock from your cunt, glistening with your slick as he retracts it from you.

“All mine, hm?” His eyes trails up your body, from your centre up to your eyes.

“All yours koo…” You mumble, unable to say them clearly because of how your brain had quite literally turned to mush by this point.

He his grip tightening around your shaky legs whilst he pushes himself back in with ease.

“Fuckin’ right.”

You couldn’t help but whine at the feeling of how fucking big he was.

The head of his cock grazed against your sweet spot, leading your hips to instinctively roll with his, needing to have him deeper.

He has a small smirk playing on the corner of his mouth and pounds harder, your walls immediately squeezing around him as he does.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your mouth hangs open, emitting a sequence of loud, pornographic-like moans from you.

He gently bites down on the flesh of your calf,

“Louder baby, c’mon.” He grunts, one hand swiftly dropping from your leg to give a sharp spank to the side of your thigh,

“Let me hear you huh?”

He speeds up the rhythm of his thrusts, hips wildly slapping against the underside of your ass.

You grip the mattress either side of you, letting out a a moaned sob of his name and feeling wet tears roll down your cheeks.

“Aw baby…” He purrs, “You cryin’ ‘cause of how good daddy’s cock feels?”

You don’t give a reply because you can’t. you’re too fucked out to put together any words right now.

Jungkook’s head drops back in satisfaction and he lets a broken moan slip past his lips.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it sweetheart,” He pants, hands dropping your legs so that he can lie on top of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Show daddy how much you love his cock, hm?”

Your helpless, desperate body can’t keep up with his pace and every passing second he’s driving you closer and closer to the edge.

and he knows it.

He could feel how absolutely flooded your pussy was, the way your hips were stiffening, movements becoming rigid, the sounds that both bodies were both making.

“Gettin’ close princess?” He asks, lifting his head up to look at you.

Your glassy eyes are staring into his, tears starting to form in your waterline from the overstimulation.

He grins, leaning down to plant a slow kiss to your lips whilst his left hand slides up from your waist to cup one of your breasts, giving it a gentle squeeze in his palm.

“Guk…!” You cry out, “m’gonna!—”

“Cum for me baby,” he interjects, “cum all over my cock.”

You let go, seeing stars as your orgasm takes over you, vision blurring from your tears that fill your eyes. You squirt all over him, juices gushing out of your core as he keeps fucking you.

Jungkook moans, realising what you’ve just done.

“Baby, you just fuckin’ squirted..” He grins, his hand finds your hair, giving you reassuring strokes as your sobs die down.

He is soon to follow. his hips becoming stiff and thrusts loosing their rhythm before he reluctantly pulls out of you in one swift movement, messily shooting his warm, milky release all over your stomach.

© jkholiic 2025

[padmesweetheart]

Padawan Mishap

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Younger!Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Pure Goofiness

The evening was already cozy — the two of you had been curled up after your Desperate Housewife marathon (which you made him watch), munching on leftovers and sipping root beer when you suddenly got a burst of chaotic energy.

“Wait, wait,” you said, bouncing up off the couch in your pajama shorts and his giant old T-shirt. “You gotta show me your lightsaber moves.”

Hayden chuckled from where he was sprawled on the couch, looking entirely too handsome for someone half-asleep. “You mean, like, the big swing thing?”

“Yes!” you grinned, your eyes sparkling. “The dramatic, iconic swing you do as Anakin.”

He laughed harder, running a hand through his messy hair. “Babe, that took months of stunt training.”

You waved a hand, brushing him off. “Pfft. How hard can it be? Give me the saber!”

He humored you, standing up with a groan (he was getting better at ignoring the pops and cracks of his back these days) and walking over to the bookshelf where he kept a replica of his Revenge of the Sith lightsaber his pride and joy. Reverently, he handed it to you.

You gasped like he had given you the Holy Grail. “I’m gonna be the hottest Jedi in the galaxy,” you declared.

Hayden laughed under his breath. “You already are.”

With far too much confidence, you ignited the saber, the blue blade buzzing to life with a dramatic hum. You gave it a few experimental swings, your face serious, tongue poking out a little in concentration.

“Okay, okay,” you muttered. “It’s like… big dramatic circle, swoosh, anger, darkness, betrayal…”

You planted your feet like you were about to duel Obi-Wan himself. Hayden leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, grinning like an idiot, watching you.

“Ready!” you called.

“You sure?” he teased.

“Positive!”

You swung the saber with all the flourish you could muster except your grip was wrong, your stance a little wobbly, and before you could even blink—

WHACK.

You smacked yourself directly in the eye with the butt of the hilt.

“OW!” you yelped, dropping the lightsaber and clutching your face as you stumbled backwards.

Hayden’s eyes widened, and he rushed forward, trying so hard not to laugh but failing miserably. “Oh my god, baby! Are you okay?!”

You peeked at him through your fingers, pouting dramatically. “I think I lost my Jedi privileges.”

He tried to keep a straight face but a snort escaped. “Sweetheart, you just Force-choked yourself.”

You groaned, still rubbing your eye. “This is how I die. Taken out by my own clumsiness.”

Hayden was already scooping you up into his arms, peppering kisses on your forehead. “You’re not dying, drama queen. Let me see.”

You moved your hand, and he inspected your eye carefully, brushing your hair back with gentle fingers. It was a little red but no real damage.

“You’ll live,” he pronounced seriously. “But maybe… leave the spinning flips to me, yeah?”

You pouted up at him. “But I looked cool, right?”

Hayden chuckled, kissing the tip of your nose. “You looked like you were trying to fight a ghost.”

You burst out laughing, leaning into his chest as he rocked you slightly side to side, lightsaber buzzing quietly on the floor behind you.

“You know what?” he said, voice dropping into that soft, teasing tone he used when he was melting for you. “You’re officially my favorite Jedi. Even if you’re a little… accident-prone.”

You looked up at him, still laughing. “I’m honored.”

He grinned, kissed you sweetly, and whispered, “My clumsy little Padawan.”

And if he ended up buying you a tiny plush lightsaber later that week as a joke? Well, you forgave him. Eventually.

[secretgardensinmymindd13]

every time someone says that eddie doesn’t love buck as much as buck loves him -

ughhhhh, what are you talking about?

buck, the guy with abandonment issues because everyone is always leaving. not caring enough. not needing him enough. not seeing him

and here comes eddie, who makes him his partner and his bestie, who always makes him feel like he and chris are his home. they’re always here. they need him. they want him. he is part of their life now

you can have my back any day (i trust you). and i’ll have yours (you can trust me). it’s a deal.

anyways, that won’t happen to us. (it better not)

he’s hanging out with his buck today!

you saved him. that’s how he remembers it.

but i love him enough to never stop trying, and i know you do too.

there’s nobody in this world i trust with my son more than you.

i couldn’t even call you to bail me out of jail…

did you ever stop for a minute to think what it could do to us?

i forgive you. also, what it means to be part of a team.

this is eddie’s house. i’m not really a guest.

you’re a miracle worker.

(they never wanted another kid. they just had me for parts. defective parts, as it turned out.) hey, that’s not on you.

(i had to do it.) i know you did.

are you hurt?

it’s in my will - if i die, you become christopher’s legal guardian. no one will ever fight for my son as hard as you. that is what i want for him.

you act like you’re expendable. but you’re wrong.

you’re stuck with us.

(yeah, i know i’m the guy that always wants to fix everything.) hey, comes in handy when you have a bunch of holes in your wall.

(we’ll do our best!) do more!

welcome back to the world of the living, buck. you were missed.

this doesn’t change a thing between us. (i love you and accept you exactly the way you are, and i’m always there for you)

what you always do. just talk to him.

i do not know what i’m gonna do without you.

it’s not nothing.

i don’t like it any more than you do.

if you’re gonna make this about me having to choose between you or my son, you’re gonna lose every time. (buck obviously knows it, so it was a reminder to himself, because eddie had to make this choice too)

but i hope you know, you do matter to me.

appreciate you, buck.

with every word and every action, eddie shows:

i don’t care how much you fuck up. i love you. i want you. i need you. i’m not going anywhere. i’m always here. i always have your back. that was the deal.

the only time i push you away is when i’m too caught up in my own pain. but it has nothing to do with you. you’re still my safe space. you’re the one i can be myself with. you’re the one i want to have in my life always.

buck’s acts of service for eddie are usually loud and definitive,

but eddie’s act of service for buck is staying. being present. being consistent. carving out a space for him in his life and saying, “this is it. you’re now part of my life. you always have a home here”

eddie makes buck feel needed. he makes him feel wanted and valued. he shows him that buck matters to him, that he sees him

i feel like buck doesn’t really need someone to go to great heights for him the way he does for the people he loves. i feel like he just wants people to understand him, to recognize his efforts, and to appreciate him the way he is. and this is exactly what eddie does

buck’s parents “looked through him”, his romantic partners didn’t care about him enough - abby leaving and not even bothering to properly break up with him, ali thinking she couldn’t handle his lifestyle, taylor always putting her work first, natalia doesn’t even count, tommy only getting with him out of convenience and breaking up with him because of insecurity and indifference. (by the way, i don’t think they were all evil for breaking up with him - it’s just that none of them were on the same page with him. they didn’t fit. relationships are often a two-way street, after all)

all buck ever wanted is to be seen, to be needed, to be wanted. eddie is the one who gives him that. he’s the one who loves him as much as buck loves him. buck might be head over heels for eddie, but eddie is just as head over heels for buck - it’s just that the way he shows his love is more quiet, but it’s persistent and stable, and it’s kind of exactly what buck needed all along

and it just so happened that he found the kind of love he was searching for in the face of his colleague and best friend. he just needs to realize that his quest for a romantic partner is over because he already found the treasure - he just had no idea he did, or that it was even an option

and it makes me very emotional that buck was looking at that old couple’s album in “buck, actually” and had no idea that he already met someone to spend his whole life with - and that this person was standing right by his side, and that it was his best friend (with whom they became besties suspiciously fast, lmao - but that’s just how soulmates work)

i know it was accidental, but honestly, that’s what makes it even better ’cause they’re soulmates through and through. even the writers couldn’t have predicted it

[sirxlla]

Hii can I request -Accidentally saying I Love You during sex with Evan Buckley

In The Moment

------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Spicy, Fluff

Prompt: above ^^^^^^

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Your headboard slammed against the bedroom wall, and on your knees, your knuckles turned white as you held onto the wood for dear life.

Evan held onto your hips and rutted his hips against yours, panting into your ear, a hand on your hip and the other beside yours on the headboard. You're screaming out his name and praising the very molecules that make him up.

"Yes! God- Fuckin- Hell- I love you!" You blurted out before you thought exactly of what you were saying, he was just making you feel so good you were just saying whatever came to mind. Evan's hips slowed as he heard those words from your lips; he smiled and then spoke.

"I love you too." He smiles and kisses your cheek before he continues his movement behind you but much slower, it's much more meaningful and passionate than lustful and fast. Evan makes sure to please the both of you completely.

He slows as the both of you climax, rubbing your hip with one hand and your arm with the other as the both of you come down slowly.

Evan slowly slips out of you, keeping his hands on your hips to keep you steady. He kisses your shoulder gently as he moves off the bed to grab a warm, wet cloth to wipe you clean.

He gently helps you onto the chair near his bed and gets you some ibuprofen and water; Evan knows how hard that position can be on someone's back.

Your brain begins to overthink, and you start to worry that maybe saying I love you wasn't the greatest decision. Evan notices the tension and worry in body, he's always been good at noticing the small details.

He strips the bed as he thinks of how you told him that you love him, a smile filling his face.

"I've never been so happy to hear someone say that." He glances over at you as he remakes the bed. His words cause you to relax and his smile causes one to fill your face. That smile kills you, it's infectious and otherworldly. After making the bed he gets you clothes and helps you into them.

Evan grabs you and picks you up easily like a princess in a bedtime story to set you back on the freshly remade bed.

"Ev, I can do it myself. You don't have to-"

"No, you're right. I don't have to...but I want to. Plus that wasnt an easy position I had you in, I know how bad your back hurts sometimes and I really wanna do this together. Be together, you know? Not just- this." He gestures between you two.

"I wanna be a couple, go on dates, and all that shit. I thought I couldn't do like a relationship, like- I know I was the one that asked for friends with benefits, but I really hope that's not what you want now 'cause I don't."

You looked into his beautiful blue eyes and brought your hand up to gently caress his scar before nodding.

"Yeah, I wanna do this. I wanna have us be together. I have kinda always really liked always and didn't wanna push you into anything you weren't ready for; I know your ex was an asshole, and when you asked, I guess I thought maybe it'd be the best way to help you; I don't know, It was stupid but...I do wanna do this, you know? Us."

He nods his head and pulls you into a warm bear hug. Evan hides his face in your hair, rubbing your back gently to try to soothe any possible remaining soreness. Evan was ready to be with someone now, but only if that person was you.

-> Masterlist

-> Send me prompts if you'd like

[rrysbabydoll]

Dark Paradise

Pairing: Harry Styles × Reader.

Synopsis: A night at Berghain with Harry

CW: Explicit smut (18+), semi-public sexual activity, dirty talk, praise kink, a bit of dominance, explicit language.

You stood outside Berghain’s towering concrete walls, heart thrumming too fast in your chest. The low thud of bass leaked through the thick doors. You tugged nervously at the hem of your black dress.

Harry caught it instantly.

“Hey,” he said, low enough that only you could hear. His hand brushed against yours, grounding you. “You alright?”

You nodded, though your stomach was a storm.

Harry smiled, soft and sure, like he could erase the worry with just a look. His short hair was a little messy. His hands were cold when his fingers laced through yours.

“If you changed your mind, just tell me. We don't have to go in if you don't wanna.” he said reassuringly.

“No, no, I want to”

You tried to smile, but it came out a little shaky.

It felt surreal — being in Berlin, standing outside the most infamous club in the world, with Harry Styles of all people. Even after almost two years together, you were still getting used to it: the way he looked at you like you were the most interesting person in the room, the way he made you feel like you belonged, even when the world felt too big.

The line moved forward. Harry squeezed your hand once.

When it was your turn, the bouncer looked you both over. Harry didn’t say anything, just nodded once. You mirrored him, heart hammering. There was a beat of silence. Then, a curt nod, and the door swung open.

The air hit you first — hot and thick, vibrating with sound. The bass wasn’t just heard here, it was felt. The lights were dim, almost nonexistent.

The main floor was massive — industrial and raw, walls streaked with graffiti and years of sweat and smoke. Bodies moved everywhere, a pulsing sea of strangers lost in the music.

You clutched Harry’s hand tighter, overwhelmed.

He felt it. Stopped.

“Hey.” He turned you toward him, hands firm on your waist. “You good?”

You nodded quickly. “Just… a lot. But I'm good I think.”

Harry searched your face, then smiled. “Come on. Let’s dance.”

He pulled you into the throng before you could second-guess yourself. The music swallowed you both whole — heavy techno. Harry didn’t dance like he did on stage. Just raw movement, messy, head tipping back as he lost himself in the sound.

You let yourself be pulled into his orbit.

It was freeing, in a way you hadn’t expected. No one cared who you were here. No phones. No flashing lights. Just sweat and music.

Harry spun you, laughing when you stumbled into his chest. You pressed your face against him, breathing his soft smell in.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your hair. “You know that?”

You looked up, blinking. His green eyes were molten in the low light.

You buried your face back in his chest, heart thudding for a whole new reason.

Hours blurred. You danced until your feet ached, until your lungs burned. At some point, Harry dragged you to a quieter side room — smaller, darker, the music softer but still pulsing.

You collapsed onto a battered leather couch, laughing breathlessly. Harry flopped down beside you, stretching his long legs out.

He tilted his head, watching you. “Still nervous?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Mhm, no.”

For a while, you just sat there. Close enough to feel each other breathe. The noise of the club wrapped around you like a cocoon, but here, with him, it felt quiet somehow.

Harry’s hand found yours again, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your skin.

“You know,” he said after a while, voice low and thoughtful, “when I was your age, I’d have been terrified to come here.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “Seriously? You?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Didn’t know who I was yet. Thought I had to be what everyone expected. Took me a while to realize... it’s more fun being who you actually are.”

You stared at him, the words sinking deep.

You swallowed hard, throat tight. “I only came because you’re here.”

He smiled, small and soft. “I’ll always be here.”

He leaned in, giving you time to pull away — but you didn’t. You surged up instead, meeting his mouth with yours, a soft gasp slipping between you when he kissed you back, rougher than you expected. His hands slid up your thighs, under the hem of your dress.

You whimpered into his mouth as he pulled you onto his lap, straddling him.

Harry growled low in his throat, hands gripping your hips like he couldn't get enough. His bare hands were cold against your burning skin. You ground down against him instinctively, feeling the hard press of him through his pants.

“Fuck, bunny,” he rasped, breaking the kiss to drag his mouth down your throat, biting gently at your pulse point. You arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders for balance.

Around you, the side room stayed dark and ignored, everyone else too lost in their own worlds to notice. Or maybe they did notice and didn’t care. Berghain wasn’t the kind of place where anyone batted an eye.

Harry’s hand slipped between your bodies, finding the edge of your underwear. He paused, eyes searching yours — asking without words.

You nodded, breathless. “Please.”

That one word broke him.

He pushed your panties aside, fingertips brushing through your slick folds, groaning quietly when he felt how ready you were for him. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and he muttered something filthy against your skin.

He circled your clit slowly, making you shudder against him, hips jerking forward.

“You’re so fucking wet, Y/N,” he murmured, voice shaking with restraint. “All for me, yeah?”

You whined, nodding eagerly.

He slid two fingers inside you, deep and slow, and your head tipped back with a choked moan. His thumb kept working your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

“That's it, love,” he whispered, kissing the line of your jaw. “Take what you need.”

You rode his hand shamelessly, chasing the heat building deep in your tummy. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, looking absolutely wrecked just from touching you.

“Harry,” you gasped, nails scraping over the back of his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, pressing his forehead to yours.

When you came, it tore through you like a wave, leaving you trembling and breathless in his lap. Harry held you through it, murmuring praises against your skin, fingers still gentle inside you until you whined at the overstimulation.

He withdrew carefully, hands stroking soothing lines up and down your back.

You blinked at him, dazed, and he smiled — so unbearably sweet it made your heart ache.

“Good job, lovie.” he said softly, brushing your hair out of your face.

You leaned forward, kissing him again, slower this time. Gratitude and want tangled together between your lips.

Harry groaned into the kiss, shifting under you. You felt him, hard and heavy against your thigh, and smirked against his mouth.

“Your turn?” you whispered, voice still wrecked.

He chuckled lowly, but shook his head. “Later. Wanna take my time with you, bunny. Not here.”

You bit your lip, heart flipping. The promise in his voice was thick enough to drown in.

He helped you stand, smoothing your dress back down with a tenderness that made you melt all over again. You slipped your panties back into place, cheeks burning deliciously at how casually he kissed your thigh before straightening.

Hand in hand, you melted back into the crowd.

The night stretched on. You danced again, kissed in a dark corner, Somewhere in the early hours, when the sky outside started bleeding pale pink, you stumbled out into the cold with him, shivering and giddy.

You leaned into him, exhausted and exhilarated, as he hailed a cab.

As you slid into the backseat, you rested your head on his shoulder.

The cab ride back to the hotel was a blur — all heavy glances, stolen touches, tension strung so tight between you it was a miracle you made it upstairs without tearing each other apart.

The second the door shut behind you, Harry had you pinned against it, mouth hot and hungry against yours.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he growled against your lips, hands roaming your body like he couldn’t decide where to touch first. “You’ve got no idea, do you, baby?”

You whimpered as his thigh pressed between your legs, pinning you harder against the door.

“Harry, please—”

He pulled back just enough to look at you — his eyes dark, blown wide with need.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, voice low and commanding.

You swallowed, dizzy under his stare. “You. I want you.”

He lifted you effortlessly, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried you to the bed. He dropped you onto the mattress, standing over you for a second, taking you in — your flushed cheeks, your ruined lipstick, the way your thighs squeezed together unconsciously.

“Spread ‘em for me, love,” he said, his voice still sweet despite the moment.

Heat flooded your body as you obeyed, heart hammering.

Harry peeled off his jacket and t-shirt in one smooth motion, muscles rippling under the dim hotel light. His tattoos flexed across his chest and arms, and for a moment, you just stared — overwhelmed by how utterly beautiful he was.

He smirked, catching you looking.

“You okay?” he asks teasingly.

You nodded dumbly.

He chuckled — a low, dirty sound — as he climbed onto the bed, settling between your legs.

“Gonna take my time with you now,” he murmured, voice like velvet over steel. “Gonna make you feel so good, my baby.”

You whimpered, hips bucking up instinctively.

He leaned down, pressing open-mouthed kisses up your inner thigh, sucking little bruises into your skin as he went. You writhed under him, desperate for more, but he took his time — teasing you until you were panting his name like a prayer.

Finally, finally, he hooked his fingers into your panties and dragged them down your legs, tossing them aside carelessly.

“Look at you,” he said, almost reverent. “So fucking pretty.”

He dipped his head and licked a slow, teasing stripe up your center, making you cry out.

Harry groaned against you, like he couldn’t help himself, and then he was devouring you — tongue fucking into you, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking hard enough to make you see stars.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, grinding against his mouth shamelessly.

He moaned when you tugged, the vibration shooting through you.

It didn’t take long — you were already so wound up, so desperate — and when you came, it was blinding, your whole body shaking as Harry licked you through it, murmuring filth against your sensitive skin.

Before you could even catch your breath, he was kneeling up, shoving his jeans down with one hand, cock springing free, thick and leaking at the tip.

Your mouth watered at the sight.

Harry caught you looking and grinned lazily.

He stroked himself once, twice, then lined up at your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds.

“Still want me, angel?” he asked, voice rough.

“God, yes,” you gasped. “Harry, please—”

That was all he needed.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open, making you gasp at the delicious burn. He was big, and he knew it — watching your face closely, murmuring soft encouragements as he bottomed out inside you.

“Good girl,” he praised, brushing sweaty hair from your face. “Taking me so fucking well.”

He gave you a moment to adjust, hips rocking in tiny, teasing thrusts that made you whimper.

Then he started moving, slow at first, grinding his pelvis against your clit with every thrust.

You clawed at his back, desperate for more.

“Greedy little thing,” he murmured.

He picked up the pace, slamming into you harder, making the headboard thud against the wall with every thrust.

You couldn’t even think — only feel. His hands everywhere, his cock filling you perfectly, his mouth claiming yours in filthy, desperate kisses.

“I love you so much— oh my god” you babbled, nails raking down his spine.

He groaned, hips stuttering.

“You’re gonna cum for me again, love,” he panted against your mouth. “Cum all over my cock, yeah?”

You nodded frantically, tears stinging your eyes from how intense it was.

He slipped a hand between your bodies, rubbing tight circles over your clit, and it was too much — you shattered around him, clenching so hard he cursed loudly, spilling inside you moments later.

He fucked you through it, slowing gradually, until you were both trembling, gasping, clinging to each other.

Finally, he collapsed onto the bed beside you, dragging you into his arms without letting himself slip free.

You lay there in the dark, sweaty and boneless, heart still racing.

Harry kissed your forehead softly.

“You alright, bunny?” he whispered.

You nodded against his chest, too blissed out to speak.

He smiled, stroking your back lazily.

“That's my baby,” he murmured, pulling the covers over you both.

[httpvomitello]

Secret Crush Confession – Joaquin Torres x Y/N: One accidental slip and years of tension unravel in seconds

I hope you like it ~ ☆

Slip Ups .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: Years of friendship. Years of unspoken feelings. All it takes is one accidental slip—and suddenly, the tension you both pretended didn't exist finally catches fire.

joaquin torres x f!reader

You and Joaquin had always been good at almost.

Almost flirting.

Almost touching.

Almost saying something real.

It was like you both had built this invisible wall between you back when you were just a couple of dumb teenagers, swearing you were "just friends," even though the late-night talks and the lingering looks said otherwise.

And somehow, through college, through careers, through deployments and distance—you never knocked it down.

Until tonight.

It started innocently enough: a gathering at Sam’s place, a few too many beers, and some stupid party game you got roped into when you weren’t paying attention.

You were laughing so hard your sides hurt, arguing about some ridiculous dare Joaquin had been assigned (involving a flamingo pose and a kazoo), when it happened.

You turned too fast—maybe you tripped a little, maybe he caught you before you could fall, you weren’t even sure.

But suddenly, you were there—

Chest to chest, tangled up in him, his arms around you, your hands fisting the front of his shirt like it was instinct.

And you froze.

Joaquin froze, too.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

Then he whispered, voice rough and low:

"Careful, bonita. You're gonna make me do something stupid."

Your breath caught.

You could feel it—that magnetic pull, that impossible, heavy thing stretching between you, drawing you closer without permission.

Your fingers tightened on his shirt.

"I don’t think it would be stupid," you said before you could stop yourself.

The words were barely a whisper, but you saw the way Joaquin’s eyes darkened, his chest rising and falling faster.

Something cracked wide open between you.

And suddenly, almost wasn’t enough anymore.

He kissed you.

God, he kissed you like he was starving for it.

Like he’d been waiting forever and couldn’t take it another second.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t careful.

It was messy and desperate and absolutely perfect.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, grabbing his face, feeling the scratch of his jaw under your palms, the solid heat of him pressed against you. His hands roamed down your back, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him like he thought you might disappear.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, you couldn’t help the breathless laugh that bubbled out of you.

“Well," you managed, voice shaking a little, "guess we finally blew that 'just friends' thing to hell."

Joaquin chuckled against your mouth, the sound low and warm.

"About damn time," he murmured.

You pulled back slightly to look at him.

Years of friendship.

Years of tension.

Years of pretending.

Gone in a blink.

And honestly?

You didn’t regret a second of it.

"You know," you teased softly, brushing his hair back from his forehead, "we’re gonna get so much shit for this."

Joaquin grinned, that easy, boyish grin you’d fallen for a thousand times before.

"I can take it," he said. "Worth it."

You smiled, feeling something inside you settle, like a puzzle piece finally snapping into place.

"Yeah," you said, curling your fingers in the front of his shirt again, pulling him closer.

"Definitely worth it."

And when he kissed you again—slow this time, like he had all the time in the world—you knew there was no going back.

You didn't want to.

[laceandlipstick]

fireworks on the water | j.m

part one | part two | final

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

MDNI

wordcount: 1.2k

summary: they said it was a mistake. one night, one kiss, one moment too far. but in a house full of thin walls and thick tension, forgetting isn’t as easy as pretending.

warnings: no outbreak!au, angst, joel denying feelings (silly old man), sad!reader, age gap (joel is mid to late 40s, reader is late teens early 20s), i think thats all.

a/n: this is part two to my fireworks series so if you haven’t already make sure to read/reread part one because i just rewrote it anyways hope you enjoy this and i can’t wait to post part three!

The fireworks had barely died when Joel started pretending nothing happened.

You weren’t surprised. Not really. It was always going to be a mistake in his eyes—one night, one kiss, one desperate grab in the dark that shouldn't have lasted past the echo of that final firework. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Now it’s July 7th, three days since you let him ruin you on the back deck while the lake shimmered under red and blue bursts of color. And Joel? Joel can’t even look you in the eye.

You’re both stuck here until August.

The lake house is old wood and thinner walls. It's mosquito bites and beers in the fridge that somehow keep getting restocked. It’s barefoot mornings and damp towels everywhere. It’s your dad laughing from the dock with a fishing pole in one hand and a beer in the other, oblivious to the tension thickening every time you’re in a room with Joel Miller.

He’s in the kitchen when you walk in that morning, flipping bacon with the same calloused hands that gripped your hips like a lifeline. You freeze in the doorway, heartbeat tapping hard against your ribs. Joel doesn’t look at you.

“Morning,” you say, voice quieter than you mean.

He hums, low and short. Doesn’t turn around.

You clench your jaw. Your bare feet squeak slightly on the old linoleum as you move to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water just for something to do. He’s wearing the same damn t-shirt he wore that night. The one that had your hands under it, tugging, needing, aching.

You bite the inside of your cheek until it hurts.

“I made enough,” he says, finally. He gestures to the plate beside him with half a dozen strips of bacon and some eggs. “If you’re hungry.”

Like you’re roommates. Like he’s your dad’s buddy again and not the man who whispered your name like it was a sin.

You take the plate. You don’t thank him.

---

Breakfast is quiet. Joel sits across from you, eyes focused on the newspaper like he’s not hiding from everything.

You wonder if your dad would notice if you just screamed.

Instead, you say, “You’re really not gonna talk about it, are you?”

Joel doesn’t look up. “Ain’t nothin’ to talk about.”

You laugh. It’s bitter and small. “That’s funny, ‘cause it felt like something when you were inside me.”

He flinches. Just barely. But you see it.

“That’s enough,” he mutters.

You shove your chair back. The legs scrape across the floor, jarring and loud. “Yeah. That’s what you said when you left me out there on the deck like you didn’t just—”

Joel stands, fast enough that the chair tips a little. “I said enough.”

Your chest is rising and falling too fast. You hate that your voice is shaking. “You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen, Joel.”

“I have to,” he snaps, finally looking at you—and it hits like a punch. His eyes are dark, jaw tight. “You think I want to forget that night?”

“Then why are you acting like you do?” Your voice cracks. “Why are you treating me like I’m just your friend’s stupid daughter again?”

“Because you are,” he says. “You are. You’re not supposed to be more than that.”

Ouch.

The silence stretches. The kitchen feels smaller. The whole house feels like it’s leaning in to watch you fall apart.

Joel sighs. Rubs a hand down his face. He looks older today, worn down. “Your dad is my best friend. You know what it’d do to him if he found out?”

“I’m not asking you to tell him.” You cross your arms. “I’m asking you not to treat me like I don’t exist.”

Joel stares at you. You’re pretty sure he wants to say something cruel enough to push you away for good. But he doesn’t. He just shakes his head, grabs his coffee, and walks out onto the porch—leaving you alone with cold eggs and a bruise blooming in your chest.

You stay frozen in place for a few seconds, blood rushing in your ears. Then your chair scrapes back violently, loud enough to echo in the kitchen, and you follow him out onto the porch barefoot, heart hammering in your throat.

He doesn’t turn around when the screen door bangs shut behind you.

“Seriously?” you say, voice tight. “That’s it? You just walk away like none of it ever happened?”

Joel takes a slow sip of his coffee, eyes fixed on the trees beyond the dock. “We already said everything that needed sayin’.”

“No, you said what you needed to say. You’re not even listening to me.”

“There’s nothin’ to listen to.”

You step closer, your shadow catching his. “You really want me to believe you felt nothing that night?”

“I didn’t say that.” His voice is flat. Careful. He doesn’t look at you.

“You didn’t have to.” You cross your arms, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “You’re acting like I was just... what? Convenient? Some weak moment?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Joel.”

He sighs through his nose. Still won’t look at you.

“I’m trying to understand,” you say. “I’m trying to talk to you. But all you’ve done since that night is pretend like I don’t exist.”

“That’s not true,” he mutters.

“Isn’t it? You won’t talk to me. You won’t look at me. You treat me like I’m a stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger,” he says quietly.

You wait. But that’s all he gives you.

“So what am I?” you whisper. “Because right now, I feel like a mistake you can’t stop regretting.”

He’s quiet for a beat too long.

And then—god—he nods.

Something splinters in your chest. You don’t even try to hide it.

Joel glances at you finally, just a flicker of guilt behind his eyes before he looks away again. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. I crossed a line I shouldn’t have. You were upset, I was drunk, and—”

“Don’t you dare blame it on the fucking alcohol,” you snap, louder than you mean to. “You weren’t drunk enough to not know what you were doing. You kissed me first. You touched me like you wanted to ruin me.”

“That’s enough,” Joel says sharply, the mug clinking hard against the wood railing as he sets it down.

You stare at him. “I didn’t mean nothing to you. I know I didn’t.”

He still won’t look at you. “It was a mistake.”

The words hit like a slap. You recoil.

Joel rubs a hand down his face, jaw tight. “I shouldn’t have let it happen. I won’t let it happen again.”

You nod slowly, even though your throat’s tight and your eyes are stinging. “Right. Got it.”

You don’t say anything else. You just turn and walk back inside, not caring how loud the door slams behind you.

He doesn’t follow.

[taylorman2274]

Today Is Where Your Book Begins (Chapter IV)

You find yourself in Teyvat thanks to the efforts of Alice and Aether, and along with that the answers to your questions have been found. But instead of feeling satisfied, you are left conflicted and confused. Not to worry though, Aether is here to guide you through everything, just like you have done for him.

Content Warning(s): N/A

Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Previous || Next

Taglist: @bunniotomia; @sarraisme; @chericia;

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.

..

…

You felt the sun hit your eyes.

Tiredly, you flipped your body away from the beaming rays. You let out a comforting sigh when your face hit the cool bedsheets.

.

..

…

‘…Wait… …Bedsheets…?’

Curiously, you opened your eyes…

…And immediately locked eyes with a man sitting across from you.

Startled, you quickly sat up, intending to question who the man was, but the sudden movement proved too much for your body to handle. You groaned, shutting your eyes and bringing a hand to your head as you felt a strong headache coming along. Furthermore, your body started to deflate, quickly becoming too tired to keep yourself upright. The man in the room hopped to his feet and rushed to your side, a worried expression on his face.

“Woah woah woah. Easy. Easy…” his gloved hands softly gripped your shoulders, gently pushing you back down onto the bed. “You need more rest. Your body is still recovering from the long journey. Try not to overexert yourself.”

Lacking the strength to refute, you reluctantly complied with the stranger’s words. However, you took the opportunity to come to a few conclusions about your current situation.

Number 1: Whoever this stranger is, he doesn’t appear to have any intention of hurting you. At least for right now…

Number 2: You definitely are not in the witch’s tent anymore. Last time you checked, tents didn’t have queen-sized beds and wooden walls. You couldn’t recognize where you were from just a quick glance, but something in your mind is telling you that there is some familiarity to the room you’re occupying.

Number 3: Speaking of familiarity…

…

Why does this stranger’s voice sound so freaking recognizable? It’s literally on the tip of your tongue…

But before you could think about it more, a cold hand came to a rest on your forehead.

…

Actually, cold might be an understatement. This hand is much colder than that. It’s… frigid?

‘But how? Isn’t he wearing gloves?’

Regardless, it helps alleviate your headache, which brings you a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry I don’t have an ice pack with me,” the stranger apologizes. “But hopefully this works as an alternative.”

You opened your eyes and looked toward the stranger, intending to give him your thanks, but you suddenly stopped.

…

“…Aether?” You slurred.

A soft smile grows on his face. “Yes, it’s me. Are you feeling better, Reader?”

Your head rolls to the side. Aether’s hand stays pressed against your forehead, his wrist joints glowing frosty blue. “…Reader…?”

Aether tilts his head. “Yeah, you’re our Reader.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “…Huh?”

The room becomes silent for a couple of seconds before Aether seems to understand something.

“Oh, that’s right. Alice mentioned that you might be out of the loop on a couple of things. I’ll do my best to explain everything to you.”

The next five or so minutes are spent by Aether explaining to you the story behind your arrival at his Serenitea Pot. He explains Alice’s plan on his end and how he believes she had a friend of hers in your world who owed her a favor.

‘That must’ve been Elise…’ you concluded.

“I know it’s not easy telling people that you come from other worlds, trust me, I’ve been there before,” Aether says. “It’s even harder telling someone that the ‘story’ they’ve been reading actually exists. Despite this, I hope this revelation hasn’t been too hard on you.”

You had recovered enough to the point where you could sit on the edge of the bed. It was true that your mind was racing, but you suppose fantasizing about this situation seemed to diminish your astonishment. Furthermore, seeing Aether in front of you — not someone in cosplay, there is no way anyone could replicate his golden eyes — which buries any doubt that this couldn’t be anything but real life. Not even a dream sounded like a realistic possibility!

“…Huh…”

Aether lets out a small chuckle. “You must be in shock and awe.”

“Can you blame me?” You shrugged your shoulders. “You even said it yourself. Explaining this to anyone is not easy at all.”

Aether nodded. “But you’re here now. And I’m glad I finally get the chance to talk with you.”

…

You smiled and tipped your imaginary hat. “Likewise.”

Aether’s smile grew wider as he reached out his hand. Thinking he was going for a handshake, you grabbed his hand but were surprised when he pulled you to your feet instead. You stumbled a bit, but you were quick to catch your balance. Aether was also looking ready to catch you.

“Do you mind if I bring you somewhere with me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Where to?”

“How about a trip to Mondstadt?”

Your eyes widen in shock. You don’t think you’re ready for a visit to any major city. Especially one with so many people you know! Aether seemed to recognize your thoughts almost instantly.

“Not to the city! I know that you’re not ready for a city visit. You just got here after all. I only plan on taking you to the cliffs above Starfell Lake. It’s one of my favorite sightseeing spots.”

You sighed in relief. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m ready for any main city. A small town, maybe, but not any main area.” A sudden thought pops into your mind. “Wait. Will Venti be alright with this? I won’t be intruding on his nation, will I?”

“You definitely won’t,” Aether laughs. “You have nothing to worry about.”

You gave a nod of approval. Aether nods as well before placing his palm over your eyes. “You’re probably gonna want to close your eyes. It takes a while to get used to the waypoints.”

You follow his orders, and soon enough, Aether begins the teleportation.

---------------------------------------------------------

You definitely felt a little dizzy once you and Aether teleported to Mondstadt, but it wasn’t as bad as the headache you had earlier.

“I always like to set up a portable waypoint here when I need a little time by myself.”

When Aether finally removes his palm, you slowly open your eyes before gasping in amazement.

Mondstadt looked even prettier in person. The sun shone on Cidar Lake, glimmering the water’s tides. You could see Mondstadt City standing proudly in the middle of the lake. Despite the giant stone walls surrounding its borders, the elevation you were at allowed you to peer over and spot the many red roofs that occupied the city. Additionally, you could see the statue of Barbatos erected in front of the cathedral near the back of the city. And last but not least, the city’s three windmills slowly spun, which brought your attention to the calm breeze that brushed against your skin and hair.

Outside of the city and lake, the grass, bushes, and trees covered the land in nature’s green, leaving a few strips of land open for the dirt paths for merchant carts and horse carriages to travel along.

Usually, such pretty sights and calm scenery would be interrupted by a yapping fairy.

…Speaking of said yapping fairy.

“Where’s Paimon?” You asked.

“She’s with Lumine for the day,” Aether replied. “Alice and I thought it would be better if your first visit to Teyvat was done one-on-one.”

Aether takes a seat on the cliff ledge, and only later would you come to realize that this particular spot matched the image on Genshin’s pre-installation screen. “So now that we’re here, I wanna hear about your story.”

“My story?” You questioned, sitting down beside Aether.

“Yeah, you’ve known my story for the past ten or so years, while I practically know nothing about you! I wanna know more about you, what your world is like, how you came across Teyvat’s ‘story’, everything!”

“I doubt I can explain everything to you,” you laughed at his enthusiasm. “But I’ll try my best.”

Like the five minutes Aether took to explain his and Alice’s plan, you spent the next five minutes talking about yourself, your family, the simplest details of your world, and how you first heard about Genshin Impact. All the while, Aether listened intently, asking questions whenever something piqued his curiosity.

“So it’s this device that allows you to guide us and not from any power that you possess?” Aether asks.

“Yeah…” you scratched the back of your neck. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I’m not disappointed!” Aether exclaims. “What made you think I was?”

“I just thought that since you’re all powerful and all, you’d think that whoever was controlling you would either be someone of your equal or more powerful. But I’m not that powerful. I don’t have anything like a Vision, and I’m not a god nor some type of all mighty Creator-like being. I’m just…” You gestured at yourself. “I’m just me.”

Aether frowned at your self-deprecation. “I don’t care how powerful you are,” he puts an arm around your shoulder. “The only thing I care about is how you and Paimon were there for me when I was at my lowest. Lumine and I had never lost a fight before, but when we first encountered that god not only did we lose, we were also separated. That was probably my first time I ever felt lost. I had my power sealed and had no idea what to even do. But once I fished out Paimon and had you to guide me, you two helped me find the truth of this world and reunite with Lumine. And for that, I am eternally grateful.”

Aether’s words had you blushing so badly that you turned away in embarrassment.

“I really mean it,” he shakes your shoulder. “And it’s not just me, either. So many want to reward you as well. In fact, that’s all that everybody has been telling me for the past couple of days. Amber wants to treat you to a meal at Good Hunter. Gaming wants to treat you to some dim sum. Yoimiya wants to make your very own firework. Navia wants to invite you to the Tabletop Troupe.”

You held up a finger to stop him from rambling. “I’m sensing a pattern. So it’s really just the extroverts who are offering stuff.”

…

“Yeah, pretty much.”

You and Aether get a good laugh out of that.

“But you see what I mean. You’ve got so many people who want to meet you, and I don’t think most of them are gonna take no for an answer.”

You frowned. “I still think that they should know more about me before I meet with any of them. Like what I told you. They should know that, as far as who this person is, they’re just an ordinary human. Nothing special or anything. I don’t want to ruin any expectations they may have for me.”

“…You really gotta stop talking down on yourself,” Aether sighs. “Believe me when I say no matter who you say you are, your actions speak for themselves. And for that, you deserve praise.”

…

You softly smile. “Thanks.”

Aether smiles too before materializing a Kamera in his hands. “How about a picture together before I have to send you back?”

He gets up and walks away from the cliff ledge. After walking a few feet, he sets up the Kamera on a stand and sets up the automatic timer. He peeks around the Kamera. “Ready?”

You nod your head.

“Alright, get ready. We have ten seconds.” He turns on the timer before rushing back by your side.

You didn’t know what pose he wanted you to do, so you kept your hands in your pockets. However, Aether grabs one of your hands and brings it around his shoulder. You looked at him incredulously. “I thought you weren’t a touchy guy?”

Aether just looked at you, smiled, and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “I am now, [Y/N].”

Shrugging your shoulders, you looked back at the Kamera.

*click*

---------------------------------------------------------

You unlocked the door to your apartment and walked inside. Home sweet home.

That unexpected trip to Teyvat left you exhausted. Time to get ready for bed.

You did your nightly duties: showering, brushing your teeth, changing into pajamas, and a quick drink of water that you’ll regret taking when you have to wake up to use the bathroom in four hours time.

‘A necessary sacrifice.’ You told yourself.

However, when you approached your bed, you saw something that wasn’t there before. A picture — one that you recognized almost instantly — along with a familiar-looking white flower and a letter.

Setting the flower and picture aside, you began to read the letter.

…

Here’s to many more memories.

- Aether

P.S. YOU BETTER COME BACK SO PAIMON CAN GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST HUG EVER!!!

…

You don’t think the smile on your face can grow any bigger.

---------------------------------------------------------

THE END

---------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Notes: And that’s the end of this series! Probably won’t be a new one for a long while. There will be plenty of one-shots however, I’ve got plenty of ideas for some reverse isekai shenanigans.

Who knows, perhaps I'll make a one-shot extending this series someday.