#maybe the angst is within me all along

[catsteriisk]

How do you write angst? like 99% of the ‘angst’ I’ve written are just vaguely in the background for spice. 

What are you people on when you write the most gut wrenching, tear my heart out and stomp on it fics ??

[slttygeto]

I'd love to see me from your pov — GOJO S.

synopsis: Gojo Satoru seems to struggle with the idea of love and doesn't quite know where to stand. Luckily for him, you're there to soothe his worries every time.

word count: 2,1k

content warning: a tiny bit of angst, but you know me and my love for this man.

note: hi hello there :)! it's October which means it's the 4th year anniversary since the release of ariana's album positions! I adore that album with all of my being, and what better way to show my love than to dedicate some of my favorite songs to my favorite anime men? enjoy reading!

Satoru has never known what love is. His parents’ marriage was an arranged one, his mother’s good looks and her status along with his father’s powerful technique is what brought them together. And nine months later, the wielder of the six eyes was born. Raised in an environment where his father was barely around, the only warmth he’s ever felt was his mother’s hand holding his smaller one as she walks him around the Gojo estate, showing off the boy whose birth altered the balance of the world. 

Then she was off to do her duties as Madame Gojo. 

Satoru remembers his childhood as being extremely dull. He was forbidden from social interactions, was told that they are useless unless the person was of any benefit to him or his powers—which at the time, six year old Satoru didn’t understand but he had no choice but to comply with his father’s words. 

Bright pair of blue eyes would then follow his father’s figure as he made his way towards the sliding paper door, but before he could leave, the tall man turned towards his wife whose eyes remained glued to her lap before announcing. 

“I’ll be off.” Whether that meant for hours, days or weeks, Satoru never knew. 

Logically, that led to the creation of his image on love and marriage. He avoided the two concepts like the plague. Love was always meant to find others before it could even glance his way, and Satoru was okay with that. 

He was okay with spending the rest of his time alone, maybe he would buy a house on the top of a hill and own a nice border collie dog. Perhaps, that dog would show him a little bit of loyalty and love because Satoru feeds it and takes it on walks, but when the sun goes down and the dog goes to sleep, it would be just Satoru and his thoughts. Dying alone sounded scary, but it was better than ending up like his parents.

“Are you okay?” The tall man feels a gentle squeeze on his large hand. Suddenly, he’s pulled back into the present. 

The smell of fresh roses and the cold breeze overwhelm his senses. He blinks and realizes that he must’ve taken off his blindfold somewhere—Satoru can’t remember where, or why he got so lost in his thoughts.

“Satoru?” That voice. That sweet, warm and honeyed voice, barely above a whisper as it calls out his name and he gets another whiff of something—perfume.

Your perfume.

You’re standing next to him, smaller frame and smaller hand squeezing his own and he remembers why he was pulled back into his childhood. 

You had squeezed his hand the same way his mother did. Except this time, you don’t pull away like she does. In fact, you haven't pulled away in years. 

When Suguru left, Satoru was trying to piece himself back together within the confines of his own place. Quiet, cold and unwelcoming. He despised the feeling, it made him feel like shit and Satoru was usually the type to ignore his feelings—so when they come crashing against him in strong waves, the strongest can’t duck down and avoid them, he can’t swim away and find refuge. He chooses to believe that he is his own refuge, even if he’s messy and selfish and quite literally just a jerk. The strongest was unable to save his own best friend from a fate that is so horrible, one that could’ve easily been avoided had he looked harder. 

Had he not been raised that way. 

“Satoru?” 

On a cold October night in 2007, you show up at Satoru’s apartment with food and homemade sweets. You’re sweaty, clearly having climbed up the stairs since you had no access to the elevator. He sees you, he cannot process the reason for your sudden visit until he sees your lip quiver and your eyes fill with tears.

“I’m sorry.” You say with so much emotion that the teenager can only try to stop himself from digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands. 

Although he only realizes it years later, the only person who had shown Satoru that he was worth a bit of love was Suguru. He had been your classmate too, your friend. You’re grieving his absence too, but you choose to stay with Satoru that night. He doesn’t say much, you don’t press him about it. 

He doesn’t understand why. 

A couple of months pass, your visits become more regular. He buys you a mattress and even suggests you move in with him in the guest room of his apartment. And after much consideration, you agree and the two of you become roommates.

What had once been a cold, uncomfortable apartment slowly turns into a refuge for Satoru, a place he looks forward to coming back to after a long day of missions. Was it because of the smell of food that fills the hallway as he approaches the door, or the thought of finding you in there when he inserts the key? Satoru isn’t sure yet.

He’s still a bit confused as to why you want to be around him.

Months turn into years, your presence remains a constant in his and Megumi’s lives when he takes him in. You have your own room that you choose to share with Tsumiki and you treat the two children like your own. The strongest believes that your heart is as big as the oceans combined.

For someone whose youth was stolen away by the Jujutsu society, Satoru tries to make sure that his students don’t meet the same fate. So he takes on countless missions, protects students like they’re his own children and promises them a bright future. Even if it’s at the expense of his own. 

You hate that, and you make it clear to him the day he takes in Yuuta.

“That’s such bullshit.”

“Hey, watch it.”

“No, you listen to me!” This is the most emotion you’ve shown since that one night you came to visit him. Satoru looks up from his phone where he’s sitting, and is a bit taken aback when he sees your eyes fill up with tears. “Do you realize how dangerous it is to be going around and doing shit like that?” 

“What–saving them?”

“Ruining your future!” You raise your hands in the air. 

“I don’t have a future.” 

The room falls silent. Suddenly, you’re glad that Megumi and Tsumiki weren’t home. Your eyes meet his, and the white haired male watches as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There’s a thousand expressions on your face—betrayal? Hurt? Worry? He can’t decipher them.

He is overwhelmed. His six eyes are screaming at him that your cursed energy was elevating, your body temperature was rising and he can see that your chest is heaving. 

He still doesn’t realize what he had just said. 

To him, it was the truth. There was nothing morbid about his words. If he couldn’t see himself marrying or falling in love, then Satoru simply did not have a future. Those children do, and that’s what he should prioritize.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t–”

“Satoru–” you lose your breath as you utter his name, broken and weak. You gulp harshly, heart pounding loudly in your ears. “You can’t say that.”

It’s selfish, you’re aware of that, but it can’t be helped. You watch as the light of the man you had been clinging onto like a lifeline for years starts to dim, and you scramble to find the source of the problem. 

And while Satoru’s six eyes are screaming at him to walk away, his heart pins him to the ground of his living room. Overwhelmed and emotional, it reminds him of that one lonely night. He can’t tell you how he feels, he can’t pinpoint to you that it’s because of his parents that his heart refuses to let him accept the idea of love. He sees the waves coming, large and tall and ready to destroy him years later—as he scrambles to find refuge, his heart finally feels at ease.

Your arms wrap tightly around his middle, chin resting on his shoulder and your hands digging into his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. You want to stop your chest from stuttering, but your quivering lip gives away your strong emotions. 

“I’ll stay.” 

Why would you stay? 

His arms feel heavy as he lifts them up and finally rests them on your warm body, pulling you so close to him you feel yourself suffocate. It doesn’t matter. Satoru hugs you so tightly that you hear your heart break. 

You don’t comment on the wet feeling on your shoulder, or the way his hands tremble as they grip the back of your shirt. You let him cling onto you as though you were the air he needed to breathe, the warmth he sought in the middle of the coldest nights. 

—

“Thank you.” 

“Hm?” You look to your side, a bit confused. The white haired man thinks you look very adorable when you’re clueless, trying to understand his words. 

“Thank you? What for?” Satoru isn’t one to get nervous, but your stare has him feeling a little hot. He hopes he isn’t blushing, it doesn’t suit his brand. 

“For saying yes.” This time, he is the one who squeezes your hand and you hold back a chuckle at how he avoids eye contact. You squeeze his hand back and lean your head against his shoulder.

“I would be crazy not to marry you.” 

“But you know… given my line of work, and Suguru—”

“Satoru,” you stop the man before he can carry on with his small ramble. You appreciate how vocal he is, it is one of the major changes to his personality ever since the two of you made it official. “I am a sorcerer as well. I understand.”

“You hate the missions I take.”

“I hate the way the higher ups view you, not the missions you take.”

Silence engulfs the two of you. 

You fidget with your hands, feeling as though you might’ve crossed a line your husband wasn’t ready to let you cross yet—

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“How do you view me?” He asks, voice low and small. He still doesn’t look at you, nor does he look anywhere really. Despite being 28 years old, Satoru feels the same way he felt at 6 years old. Vulnerable, worthless and in need of a reminder of what he brought to this world other than his powers–

“You’re handsome.” You break his chain of thoughts with a lot of ease, and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “A handsome, caring young man with a big,” a finger traces his heart over his shirt, “big heart. You have a child-like spirit, and a boy-ish smile that could make anyone fall for you very easily. I don’t want to focus too much on your looks, but they’re unfortunately a huge part of who you are,”

“You’re selfless.” You lean against the balcony railings, staring down at the city. “People take you for granted and either you don’t seem to notice, or you try not to.”

“And last, you’re too good for this world.” 

Your eyes sparkle as you describe every small detail about the man. You pour all of your emotions into your tiny monologue, so you fail to notice that Satoru had removed his hands off the railings. Until you feel something warm on your sides and something heavy on your shoulder. 

“Satoru?”

“I’m fine,” his broken voice would beg to differ, but you don’t push him. You rest your hands on top of his and let him pull you back against his chest in a warm, tight hug. 

He had always wanted to see himself through your eyes, filled with so much adoration and trust that it made his heart burst in his chest. He was riddled with confusion and something he couldn’t quite decipher anytime you had told him ‘of course it was you’ when he would do something nice, or ‘you’re not like that’ when you heard Nanami mumble something about Satoru’s playful behavior. 

You wish you could give him your eyes, take away some of that overwhelming feeling of being the wielder of the six eyes and allow him to rest—see himself as the selfless, kind-hearted man that he was to you. 

Since that was physically impossible, you’ll stick to loving him as though he held the universe between his palms.

You make loving him seem as easy as breathing, and the inner child living deep within him is forever grateful for that. 

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[norikuna]

HOLY GROUND — geto suguru

prologue. → suguru geto is effortlessly stylish, and impossibly charming, and it's no wonder that everyone loves him. and you're absolutely crushing on him. and without fail, he takes you out each afternoon, after school, to a sweet cheesecake shop, saying that it'll be nice to grab a quick treat. but as a friend...right?

pairing. geto suguru x reader

warnings+. nothing, just sugary sweet fluff! reader has some self doubt and is a bit nervous, has a bit of a crush on ol' geto.

word count. 3.03k! song inspiration. holy ground — taylor swift

a/n. this post by @shokosmokes got me thinkin...mind u i love a good angst story but its nice to just have something sweet. like cheesecake 🍰 anyway this is short but i had fun writing this short lil piece <3 lmao this is the first time i think i've written a story without someone dying or losing a limb. not beta read, we die like warriors.

mp3. tonight i'm gonna dance, for all that we've been through. but i don't wanna dance, if i'm not dancing with you.

you sat across from geto at a small table by the window, marvelling at how the warm sunlight spilled in and caught the edges of his profile, lighting his features up with the last rays of summer's sweetness. you can hear the usual bustle of life on the streets of tokyo, with cars roaring down narrow streets and voices floating on the air. but here, it's just you and him.

there's a single strand of his hair that's perpetually falling out of his knot, falling against his face in a way that makes your chest tighten. the light has caught the feathery edges of his raven hair, turning the black into deep shades of brown and caramel that you want to capture within your fingers.

"you're quiet today," geto says, and he's leaning back in his chair, legs stretched wide beneath the table as he always tends to do.

you're glad you both took the time to change out of your uniform, at the dorms. the loose charcoal top drapes well against his lean, sculpted frame. his faded black jeans and scuffed docs complete the look, as though he stepped out of a glossy streetwear magazine and into your hands. there's two silver bracelets stacked on his wrists, gleaming faintly and you watch as the faint dusting of dark hair on his arms look translucent in the afternoon light.

great, you've been staring. again. heat rushes to your face, and you quickly look down at the cracked screen of your phone, hoping he didn't notice how you were practically unthreading each stitch that held him together.

"just tired," you say. though the truth has nothing to do with exhaustion, and everything to do with him.

geto tilts his head, watching you, "long day?"

you trace your finger along that shattered screen as you flip your phone open, "something like that. you know how they train us at the end of the day."

his eyes narrow for a split second, like he's the one solving a puzzle right now, but he shakes his head, "let's just go and order now. 'm starving."

this bakery is known for its whimsical creations, and you stare at the menu above the counter, wondering how many crumpled bills you can scrounge up for this outing. geto's leaning against the glass case, shoving his hands in wide pockets as his bracelets clink softly at the movement.

his eyes skim over the vibrant slices of cheesecake on display, but you know he's not really looking at the desserts. he's just giving you time.

"what do you think?"

"i don’t know," you say, dragging out the words as you squint at the labels. "how am i supposed to pick between strawberry matcha swirl and honey lavender? they all sound so - " you pause, schooling your face as the woman behind the till gives you a side-eye, "complicated."

geto chuckles, a low, warm sound that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. "why don’t you go for something fun? you always play it safe."

his words make you pause. maybe he’s right. maybe you do tend to pick the familiar, the predictable. but not today. today, you want something different — something bold. you glance at the menu again, and your eyes land on a slice that looks like a kaleidoscope of colour: tropical mango-passionfruit cheesecake with swirls of raspberry and a delicate coconut crust. it’s so bright and summery, it feels almost impossible not to smile just imagining yourself biting into it.

"that one," you say, pointing to it.

geto raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment, his lips curving into a faint smile. "and for me…" he looks over the options for barely a second before he says, "just plain vanilla."

"tch! vanilla?" you repeat "you’re so boring."

"hey, it's a classic."

you roll your eyes, but you are so endlessly fond of him that you're smiling.

a few moments later, you’re back at your table with your slices, and the tropical cheesecake looks as perfect as it did in the case. the vibrant layers of mango, passionfruit, and raspberry practically glow in the sunlight streaming through the window.

ignoring geto's snarky comment to breathe first before inhaling it, you take your first bite, the fork sinking into the creamy texture, and for a moment, you’re hopeful.

but then...ugh. the sweetness hits you all at once, overwhelming your senses. it’s not bad, but it’s...too much. too bright. too cloying. you hesitate, unsure how to admit the mistake of your overzealous choice.

geto notices immediately, because of course he does. he leans forward, resting his arms on the table, his bracelets catching the light again, "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you say quickly, but your face must give you away because he narrows his pretty eyes in suspicion.

"you don’t like it." it's not a question, he’s grinning now.

"it’s fine," you insist, though your tone lacks conviction, and you shovel another wide piece into your mouth.

geto doesn’t say anything. instead, he picks up his fork and, before you can protest, scoops a bite from your slice. you watch as his pink lips part, and he tastes it before pulling a face, "that's sweet enough to even knock out satoru."

"hey!" you protest, though you can’t help but laugh along with him, thinking of your white-haired friend bouncing off the walls. "it’s not that bad."

"you don’t have to eat it," geto says, sliding his plate toward you and nudging your slice away. "here. take mine."

"but you don’t even like sweet things."

geto shrugs, picking up your plate and taking another bite of your overly sweet cheesecake like it’s nothing, and you watch as a mild spasm twitches across his features, "it’s fine. it's no good if you sit here and suffer through something you don't like."

you try to pretend like your chest doesn't tighten at the gesture. he doesn’t even look at you when he says it, focusing instead on his plate.

you take a bite of his vanilla cheesecake, and it’s perfect — not too sweet, just creamy and subtle enough to make you sigh in relief, "where would i be without you?" you hope that the teasing in your voice is enough to smooth over the cracks in your beating heart.

geto glances up at you then, his violet eyes meeting yours, and there’s something unguarded in his expression, something raw and warm and so achingly tender it makes your pulse skip, "i could say the same for you," he says quietly, almost as if the words weren’t meant to be heard, and far too quietly for something as trivial as an afternoon date in a café.

there's a warmth pooling in your cheeks, making your face hurt. and your thoughts loop back to the same quiet ache that you've carried for a few months now, like a sealed and perfumed love letter carried in your pocket.

every time he takes you out after class, you tell yourself, this is it. this is when i'll say it. haven't you rehearsed the words in your head, simple and clear each time?

i like you. i actually really like you a lot, suguru geto.

and every time, like clockwork, the words dissolve on your tongue, swallowed by the noise of your own uncertainty. it is hardly the case that geto isn't kind nor attentive. it's not that he's distant or cold, entirely the opposite.

if anything, he always seems...present.

but then you think about how he walks through the school hallways with that same quiet storm of charisma and charm, how his laughter draws people to him like moths to a flame, boys and girls alike.

in contrast, gojo satoru is far too much for many. there are many who choose to take a step back from him, away from the whirlwind and electrifying storm that is the six-eyes user.

but everyone wants a piece of geto's world, to be his friend or a confident, or something.

and you, what are you? just another friend he takes out after school? someone he doesn't mind spending time with when the day winds down?

your heart is once again acquainted with a knot of longing and fear that’s become far too familiar. geto doesn’t look like someone who would hesitate. he looks like someone who would know exactly what to say, exactly what to do, without second-guessing himself.

and yet, every time you’re with him, you catch these small moments of quiet — when his gaze lingers just a fraction too long, or when he says your name like it’s heavier than it should be. those moments make you wonder. what if…?

and as if he's reading your thoughts, geto shifts forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table now, and that single loose strand of hair moves with him, falling further into his face.

"something’s on your mind," he says, his pretty eyes searching yours. there’s a teasing edge to his tone, but it’s tempered with genuine curiosity, "you can tell me, you know."

you can’t help but wonder — how are you supposed to tell him that he’s the one taking up all the space in your mind? that his voice is the soundtrack to your thoughts, his smile the thing you find yourself chasing in every quiet moment?

instead, you give a small shrug, "maybe i’m just distracted."

"by what?" he presses, leaning just slightly closer, the teasing note in his voice softening into something warmer, a sincere question.

you hesitate, and you want to tell him the truth, but it feels too big, too fragile to let out into the open and so you blunder around, "maybe it’s the cheesecake," you say instead, your voice light, though the thrum of your pulse is anything but, "vanilla really is a classic."

smooth. utahime is going to be so disappointed in you. you know that she's tired of hearing about your crush by now, twirling the ribbon in her hair as she groans each time you tell her that you think you're going to pack your bags and move countries away from geto.

but now geto laughs softly, and the sound wraps around you like warmth, like home, "guess i picked the right place, then."

"you always do." your fingers brush against the cool porcelain of your plate, though you barely notice. your heart is often a traitor to your rational peace of mind, and your attention is all on him, on the way his smile lingers, softer now, the edges of his usually confident expression unraveling into something more tentative.

for a moment, geto's quiet, his gaze falling to his hands. his fingers toy with one of the silver rings on his right hand, twisting it in slow circles. It’s a small, nervous gesture, and it catches you off guard — suguru geto is never nervous.

the silence stretches in the late afternoon light, but then geto shifts in his seat, leaning forward slightly, his hands fiddling with the silver rings stacked on his fingers. the movement catches your attention, and when you glance up, you notice something different about him. the easy confidence that seems to follow him like a second shadow is nowhere to be seen. instead, his jaw is tight, his shoulders tense, and there’s a flicker of something nervous in the way his fingers twist the largest ring around and around.

he's looking at you, meeting your gaze, and you’re startled by the uncharacteristic seriousness in his eyes.

"hey," he says, his voice quieter than usual, a touch rough around the edges.

"yeah?"

geto exhales slowly, his lips pressing into a line before he speaks again.

"okay, look. i -” he pauses, running a hand through his hair, dislodging the tie holding his hair together, so choppy, dark locks fall around his shoulders. you school your face well enough so you don't look like you've been punched in the gut by cupid.

"i like you," he says finally, his words tumbling out in a rush, like they’ve been bottled up for too long, "i’ve liked you for a while now. and - and i’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you without, like… messing everything up."

your breath catches, the words landing like a firework in the quiet space between you. geto likes you? he likes you?

geto keeps going, as if he’s afraid to lose his nerve.

"i asked gojo for advice — stupid, i know, don't make that face — and he told me to just… keep taking you out and hope you’d get the hint. said that you'd realise eventually," and one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers you know groans, covering his face briefly with one hand, as if he's embarrassed.

"which was a terrible plan because i'm awful at hints, and apparently, so is he, considering he’s never had a girlfriend in his life."

you blink, the shock giving way to a surprised laugh, the sound spilling out before you can stop it.

"wait — gojo? he's the one who gave you advice? he doesn’t even know the first thing about relationships! do you remember the time that he went on one date, and got dumped the next day for trying to buy dinner out of the vending machine."

"i know!" geto says, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation, but there’s a small, embarrassed smile tugging at his lips now, "i know it was a bad idea. i just wanted to tell you, straight up. but I didn’t know what else to do, okay? i didn’t want to screw this up."

you fall silent at that, your laughter fading as the weight of his words sinks in. he's looking at you now, his expression open and raw in a way that makes your chest ache.

"i just — i want to do this right," he says softly, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. "i want to be your boyfriend. properly. i want to take you out, and to be able to call you mine, and — i don’t know — do all the cheesy stuff couples do."

his hand brushes the back of his neck, his eyes dropping to the table for a moment before flicking back to yours, "but if that’s weird, or if you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. you don’t have to say yes. promise i won't cry in front of you."

Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it, a wild, dizzying rhythm that drowns out everything else. You stare at him, your mind struggling to catch up with what he’s just said, with the fact that he likes you. geto—cool, effortlessly charming geto—wants to be your boyfriend.

"wait," you manage finally, your voice shaky with disbelief. "you… like me? like, you really like me?"

geto laughs softly, though there’s still a nervous edge to it. "yeah, i really do. it's probably stupidly obvious by now, isn’t it? i mean, everyone said it was so obvious, and shoko said you already knew."

you shake your head, bewildered. "no! i mean, yes — but no! i just thought you only saw me as a friend. i never thought — "

you stop yourself, realising you’re rambling, and take a deep breath. then, before you can overthink it or possibly faint, you say, "yes."

geto's thin brows furrow slightly. "yes?"

"yeah," you repeat, a smile breaking across your face. "i'd really like that. i do want to go out with you, suguru."

relief washes over his features, followed by a grin so genuine and bright it leaves you breathless. for a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes warm and full of something you can’t quite name, something that makes you feel like the centre of the universe.

"oh my god, thank god, you don't even know, i was actually going to have a heart attack..." he mutters, almost to himself, before he blinks, like he's forgetting something. then, with an almost comical jolt of realisation, he clears his throat.

"right," he says, the word drawn out, as if he’s trying to ground himself. "i need to pay for the tab."

you laugh nervously, still reeling from everything that’s just happened, and shake your head quickly, thinking back to the meagre bills in your pocket. "oh, it’s okay! i can pay for my own -"

but geto's head snaps up at that, and he fixes you with a look so incredulous, so utterly affronted, that it startles you into silence.

"no way," he says, his voice firm but laced with humour and he leans forward slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a glimmer of warmth that sends your heart racing all over again, "i’m your boyfriend now. you really think I’m going to let you pay?"

it's unfamiliar and thrilling all at once. your cheeks burn, and you can’t stop the laugh that escapes you, a mix of delight and disbelief.

"unbelievable," you say, shaking your head, but there’s no real protest in your voice.

geto grins, the expression crooked and self-assured in a way that’s so unmistakably him, and it takes your breath away. then, without breaking eye contact, he reaches across the table, his hand brushing against yours before his fingers gently curl around them.

it's such a simple gesture, but it feels monumental, like the air around you shifts in response. his hand is warm, slightly calloused at the fingertips, and the way his thumb grazes over your knuckles sends a quiet thrill through you.

you glance down at your joined hands, unable to stop the soft, surprised smile that spreads across your face. when you look back up, geto is watching you, his expression open and unguarded, as if he’s memorising every detail of this moment.

"so," he says quietly, his voice softer now, "is this the part where you say you’re going to let me spoil you a little?"

you laugh again, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand in return. "i guess i don’t really have a choice now, do i?"

his smile widens, and there’s a faint pink tint to his cheeks that makes your heart ache with how much you like him.

"nope," he says, his tone teasing but earnest. "you really don’t."

and as you sit there, your hand in geto's, surrounded by the golden light and the lingering sweetness of cheesecake, you think that maybe — just maybe — this is what happiness feels like.

[ellieputellas]

pretend | alexia putellas x reader

Alexia contemplates her feelings as you pretend a drunken kiss between you two never happened.

contains: angst, some making out, barçafemeni!reader, avoidant!reader, just a lot of angst tbh | word count: 2k+

a/n: not proofread, just wrote this cause i couldnt sleep and was listening to lizzy mcalpine's hate to be lame which gave me this idea

it's always on the tip of my tongue but i stop myself from saying it tell myself it's not the right time or something dumb

The last night of the Champion's League celebration was supposed to be just like any other victory party—loud, drunk, messy. On nights like this, it was natural to make a fool of yourself.

Alexia was never immune to the drunken stupidity — the typical drunken dancing and singing, foolish antics that got the team laughing. (In one victory party, Alexia found herself dancing with someone else's sports bra wrapped around on her head.)

But on that particular night, her drunken act of stupidity wasn't just loud karaoke or making a fool of herself. No, it was way different.

At some point, during the night, you two had gotten drunk and began grinding on each other at the dance floor. It was normal for teammates to get a bit touchy during parties so no one bat an eye but Alexia knew this thing happening between you two was different.

It started with playful dancing then you somehow found a way to plant a few kisses on her neck. It didn’t take long until you two ended up stumbling into the vacant restroom, kissing each other desperately.

Some kind of tension has always lingered between the two of you before but Alexia always chalked it up to the two of you being newly single. She always brushed it off, thinking it might just be her reading into things. Afer all, you have always been her type and she figured she might be interpreting your dynamic through wishful thinking.

But that night, that small tension she felt burst into something more, and she understood that this meant it wasn't just her who felt attraction towards the other.

She felt your hands desperately cling onto her as you locked lips. Your tongue glided on her bottom lip before ultimately finding its way into her mouth. You took turns pinning each other against the flimsy walls of the cramped stall.

Alexia's hand has found it way to your neck, gently tilting your head up with it before pressing her mouth against your neck to kiss, lick, and bite at you. You gasped in satisfaction as the taller girl kissed your neck.

You grabbed her face again to kiss her deeper, more intensely. Alexia felt that this was the type of kiss that could lead to something more; the likelihood of you crossing that line increasing with every minute that passed.

You gently pushed her off of you, as you tried to catch a breath. Your eyes remained locked as you stayed within close proximity. After a while, you noticed the hunger in Alexia's eyes simmer down into something more... soft and intimate.

This time, Alexia gently touched your face and moved to capture your lips again but this time, you looked away and avoided her kiss. You sighed before hurriedly unlocking the stall, walking out the restroom, and leaving Alexia all alone without even a goodbye.

Alexia felt dumbfounded. She thought that this kiss was your way of addressing the tension, a way of telling her that maybe you felt attracted to her too. But with the sudden exit, she began to doubt herself.

She wanted to talk to you about it the next time you saw each other but it became immediately evident to her that you were set on pretending like nothing happened.

You still joked with her in training, still bantered with her, tell stories like normal. You acted exactly like you did before; it was as if she dreamt up the kiss.

She played along like nothing had shifted, like your kiss had been meaningless. She even laughed at your jokes during training. But every word felt like a lie, every shared laughter felt like a stab.

In her mind, she wished you'd at least act different. She would rather you hated her or avoided her, something—anything to confirm that there was something real, something more.

But you acted like it was nothing.

She felt like she was going crazy, even doubting her own sanity at some point. She spent the past few months trying to forget it ever happened. But the more she tried, the more it hurt her. Because how could you pretend that all of that was nothing... when it felt like everything for her.

But then you kiss me like you do And we're right back where we started from

It was Pina’s birthday.

Alexia initially didn't want to go. It was in the middle of the season and she knew that the team captain being there meant everyone would be too hesitant and shy to drink, knowing she was around.

But she knew how Pina was, and she knew Pina would pester her endlessly if she didn't at least make an appearance.

So, she did. She went to the place late and much to her surprise, most of the team was behaving. A few of the players were nursing a bottle of beer but nothing excessive. She figured she must have done something right for her teammates to be so well-disciplined even without her hovering around them.

Well... she thought that until she saw you.

Of course, she's drunk. She thought to herself.

You were already tipsy, practically glowing, and laughing too loudly. The sight of you sent a jolt of something unfamiliar through her.

You had your arms wrapped around Caro, who was trying too hard to help you sober up by making you drink from a bottle of water. Alexia sighed and made her way to save Caro from your drunkenness.

Caro gave her a thankful look as she took over in aiding to you. She let you drape your arms around her as she wiped the stray hairs that stuck to your face.

"In the middle of the season?" She asked you in a stern voice. "Really?"

You frowned at her. "You wouldn't get it."

Alexia just sighed as she continued what Caro was doing, desperately trying to get you to sober up. "Did something happen?"

You stayed silent but you were too easy to read when you were drunk. Your glazed expression gave away that you were going through something. You still had an arm wrapped around Alexia, as if to keep yourself balanced, but you were also trying to avert your gaze away from her.

Alexia sighed. "I should take you home."

You bit your lip but you nodded. Alexia sighed and held your waist as you kept an arm around her; she was afraid if she let go, you'd fall over.

The car ride was silent. She wanted to talk to you about why you were getting irresponsibly drunk, why you seemed upset and... why you acted like your kiss never happened. But instead, she stayed silent, and as did you.

Alexia pulled up to your apartment building. After she parked, you unclasped your seatbelts but neither of you made a move to exit the car.

Alexia sighed. "Do you wanna talk... about anything?"

You shifted your gaze towards her, taking in how pretty she looked tonight. She was wearing a leather jacket on top of a cropped shirt, revealing a sliver of her abdomen. Your eyes now fluttered to her face. You took in her warm eyes, her nose, her lips. She looked so besutiful even under the dim lighting. You thought, fuck, why does she have to be so gorgeous?

You hummed. "I'm sorry I took you away from the party... especially since you look so good tonight."

Alexia started growing anxious as you said those words. "Well, I didn't really plan on going anyway..." Alexia said.

Drunkenly, you reached out to cup her face and guiding it upward so she'd meet your gaze. You stayed that way for a bit, just looking at each other's eyes. Until finally, you couldn't take it.

You leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss. It was more gentle than before, more intentional. As you pulled away, you studied her expression but Alexia just looked pained.

She sighed and looked away, causing your hand on her cheek to drop. She took a deep breath as she gripped the steering wheel with her hands and rested her head on top of it.

Emotions were overwhelming her. This was the long overdue confirmation she wanted from you so bad yet... it felt so wrong.

After a minute, Alexia finally spoke. "Why?"

"Huh? Why what?" You asked back.

She lifted her head slightly and locked eyes with you again. "Just... why?"

You sighed. "I don't know... I just want to kiss you."

Alexia looked exasperated. She took a moment to think. Do you remember last time? Why did you act like it never happened? Why do you want to kiss me now? Why do you only want to kiss me when you're drunk? Do I mean something? Do the kisses mean something? Do you... like me like I like you?

She had a million questions flying around her head but she settled on one. "Tell me honestly. Do you remember the last time we kissed?" She locked eyes with you and this time, you could see pain behind them. She tried to be firm with the way she asked but the vulnerability seeped through.

You blinked at her. “I think about it all the time,” you admitted before you could even consider lying; your inebriation made you too honest.

Alexia chest tightened as she felt hurt by the admission. Am I not supposed to be happy... that she thinks about it too like I do?

Before she could react, you were trying to lean in again as your face cupped her cheek, trying to kiss her. And that's when Alexia snapped into clarity.

No. You were drunk. This wasn’t... healthy. She couldn’t let herself do this again, not when everything between you was so confusing, so undefined.

“No,” Alexia whispered, gently pushing you away, though her hands shook with the desire to do exactly the opposite.

You looked at her with an expression that could only read as upset to Alexia but she tried to ignore it as she unlocked your car door. "I think you should go."

You stayed steady for a minute, twiddling your thumbs then staring at her but she kept her head low, trying so hard not to look at you until you finally stepped out without another word.

Hate to admit but it might be true Hate to admit but I think you knew Hate to be lame but I might love you

After that night, as expected, you didn't acknowledge the kiss. But this time, you started acting cold.

No more joking around. No more banter. You'd be laughing it up with the other Barça girls but as soon as Alexia came over, you'd bail and make an excuse to avoid her.

It was killing her, just being like this. Mapi had taken notice and pulled Alexia aside to ask if she was alright, which Alexia just hesitantly nodded.

Mapi didn't believe it for a moment. "Is it because of..." Mapi trailed off as she discreetly turned her gaze towards you as you were busy on your phone in the locker room.

Alexia sighed and said nothing but that was enough confirmation for Mapi. She sighed. "You need to talk it out," She said. "It's kinda affecting your dynamic on and off the pitch."

Alexia knew Mapi was right. Not only was it taking a toll on her emotions to be dealing with this awkward tension and silent avoidance, it wasn't long before shit gets worse and the team performance is affected. If it was only affecting her, she would have dropped the whole issue but she knew this was beyond you and her.

She caught you before training the next day, her voice sharp but shaking as she confronted you. "Can we talk?"

You sighed and nodded. "Yeah, Capi?"

She winced at the nickname, knowing that it was your tactic to distance yourself from her. Just another subtle way of deflecting.

“I know you feel the same way,” Alexia blurted it out, her words tumbling out too quickly. She regretted being so outright but she also no longer wanted to waste time. She had to do what she had to do.

Alexia sighed as she ran her hand through her hair. “And... it hurt when you acted like nothing happened. Like it didn’t matter.” Her chest heaved with the weight of everything she hadn’t said.

You stayed silent which just forced Alexia into doing all the talking. "I don't know what's going on with you but... why me? Why are you roping me into this?"

"It's nothing." You muttered.

Alexia grew frustrated. "Bullshit."

"What do you want me to do, Alexia?" Your eyes finally met hers.

"I don't know." She groaned. "Admit you like me too... or even just admit you kissed me. Tell me why you did. Tell me if it mattered. Fuck, I'd settle with you telling me it was a mistake. I just... need to hear from you that..."

"Nothing happened,” you said firmly, almost as if to convince yourself as much as her.

Alexia���s heart sank. She was there just begging for you to admit it did, even if you say it was a mistake; she just needed to hear it from you. Instead, you denied her again.

“But—”

“Drop it,” you snapped, turning quickly, rushing away before she could say anything more.

She watched you go, her hands shaking at her sides. There was nothing more she could do. She was left standing there, confused and hurt, unable to understand why it hurt so much. How could you pretend it meant nothing when everything inside her screamed that it meant everything?

Do I love her? Do I need her? Do I want her? Do I care enough to say That I love her, that I need her? 'Cause I don't but I wanna feel okay

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and Alexia still couldn't forget what happened.

Your dynamic on the pitch suffered for a bit but it recovered. And pretty soon, you were acting normal again around her.

As if nothing, nothing at all, had happened.

For a while, Alexia had convinced herself she had moved on from it. It was just two kisses, she told herself on multiple occasions. You don't even like her that much.

But there were nights when she couldn't help but be consumed with confusion and frustration. She hated how it happened—how you treated her, how you pretended nothing was real.

On most days, she hated you. She acted normal around you, sure, but there was an added layer now. Everything was more guarded. Even if she asked you often how you were and laughed at your jokes, your relationship was hurt and it could never go back to how it was.

And even if she did despise you for what you did... she still couldn’t stop the way her heart raced when she saw you. She couldn’t shut off the part of her that still hoped that maybe, one day, you'd admit to her that it did happen and maybe that you feel a certain softness for her too.

But she knew it wasn't happening any time soon and now, all she can do is what you do best — pretend.

[0silver0dreams0]

"Whispers of Devotion"

Yandere House of the dragon x ModernReborn!Reader Pt. 2

Summarized: Despite her mother, Queen Consort Alicent's attempts to control her, (your name) felt a stronger attachment to Rhaenyra and her children, which created jealousy and tension within the family. Aemond's frustration at not having a dragon fueled his anger, which grew daily, especially after Laena's tragic death. This escalating conflict ultimately led to a tragedy.

Warning: mentions blood, eye of Aemond taken out, incest, vulgar languege and a little of angst.

<< Pt. 1

Sunlight streamed through the window, accompanied by the giggling voices of small children, curious at the sight of a little baby, only a year old, as they tried to make her speak. The two children were trying to get her to say their names, each hoping that she would utter even the faintest hint of recognition, perhaps even a small peek of one of their names.

"Come on, (your name), it's easy—Helaena, or Ena, please," the girl said slowly, hoping that speaking more clearly would help. "No, no, Aegon," the boy interjected, "(your name), Aegon is easier!" he insisted, eager for her to acknowledge him.

Their efforts were abruptly interrupted by the arrival of someone else.

"What are you two doing here?" the queen exclaimed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "We were just trying to get (your name) to say our names," Aegon replied, glancing nervously at his companion. "Sorry, Mother, we just wanted to spend time with (your name)." "Well, you both need to leave now. (Your name) is only a baby, and it's best if you go and play with Aemond or someone else. Poor girl," Alicent said, turning her attention to the baby.

Before the Queen could exit the room, the princess appeared. "My Queen, what are you doing with this precious girl?" Rhaenyra asked, much to Alicent’s displeasure, as she blocked her way. "Nothing much, I just took her for a brief stroll through the gardens." "Well, perhaps she could have a playdate with Jace. He’s eager to play with her, and maybe her brothers too." Alicent furrowed her brow, and before she could refuse the offer, Viserys entered the room. "I think that's a splendid idea," he said, dismissing the queen’s look of disapproval. "Then it’s settled, isn’t it, sweetheart?" Before the princess could take (your name) in her arms, Alicent objected, "Fine, I'll go with her," as she held (your name) close.

On the way to the rooms where Jacaerys were, there was a palpable tension. No one spoke, except for the little baby, who was utterly fascinated by her mother’s hair. When they entered the room, a little boy was playing alone. As soon as he noticed someone entering, he looked up.

“(your name)! She’s arrived!” The little boy exclaimed, rushing to Alicent. “Yes, she’s here, and she brought her brother's along too,” Rhaenyra said, her eyes sparkling with happiness at the boy’s excitement. “Can I hold her?” The boy asked, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. “No, she’s too small and delicate. I don’t want—” “Please, Alicent, it will be fine. She is a dragon, after all,” Rhaenyra interjected before Alicent could protest further, swiftly taking (your name) from her arms and into her own. “Just be careful. Hold her like this,” Rhaenyra instructed, placing the little girl into her son’s arms but keeping a bit of (your name)’s weight supported by her own. “See, it’s easy, isn’t it?” she asked, beaming at Jace. “Ye—” “No! What are you doing?! She’s mine! She’s my sister!” Aegon interrupted, protesting loudly.

Before anyone could react, the little boy seized the girl roughly, causing her to cry out from the jarring movement.

“Aegon! What are you doing?! Give me the child now!” Alicent scolded him angrily. “No! She’s mine—!” The boy’s protest was cut short by the sound of a slap, prompting Rhaenyra to swiftly take (your name) back into her arms, soothing the baby. “What were you thinking?! She could have been hurt because of your foolishness! What’s the matter with you?” “But it’s not fa—” Another slap was heard, “You will be punished, young man. You won’t see your sister, play, or even leave your room for a long time.” Alicent then took her son’s arm and led him out of the room, with Helaena following behind.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, it’s alright. I’m here, calm down, honey,” Rhaenyra cooed as she walked around the room, demonstrating to Jace how to hold (your name) properly. “Look, now it’s just the three of us. Do you like it?” she asked her older son. He simply nodded happily, his gaze fixed on (your name).

Just then, a maid entered the room.

“My Princess, it’s time for Prince Jacaerys’s lessons,” the maid announced. “Go on, sweetheart,” Rhaenyra encouraged. “Perhaps by the time your lessons are finished, (your name) will still be here.” With that, Jace hurried off with the maid.

Rhaenyra looked down at "her" daughter with a wistful smile. “My little girl, soon enough, you’ll be all mine. Your scheming mother won’t be around, and you’ll be with me all the time. Perhaps I can find a way to make that happen sooner.”

The rage and desperation grew with each passing year. You had become far too close to Rhaenyra for her liking. Even when she set boundaries, you wouldn’t listen. Even when she locked you in your chambers and punished you, you still wouldn’t listen. Even when she spoke ill of Rhaenyra and her bastards, calling them cruel by nature, or cursed your whore of a sister—claiming she cared nothing for duty or family—still, her precious child wouldn’t listen. Even if you were a little wary of them, you still preferred their company over hers or your brothers’. And, truth be told, she couldn’t entirely blame you. Aegon was Aegon, always deflecting blame for his own failings, jealous and cruel to anyone who didn’t fit his mould or threatened his swollen ego. Aemond and Helaena were peculiar in their own ways too, always lingering around her darling girl, bickering over who had your attention. Even Helaena, the strangest of all, wouldn’t leave your side. When you wished to rest, she would follow you to your chambers and sleep next to you, clutching you tightly, gifting you butterflies or little insects that you adored. Of course, she loved Helaena, but her oddities were sometimes too much. You were perfect—pure, intelligent, beautiful, kind—qualities neither Aegon, Aemond, Helaena, nor even Daeron possessed. And she was proud of you, proud of what you were.

But there were times when you angered her. She didn’t want to punish you, but you left her no choice. You wished to explore, to see the world, so she had to teach you that this was wrong, one way or another. You were supposed to be perfect. You are perfect, but sometimes you’re not, and that was unacceptable. That made her furious. Then she would punish you, reprimand you, give you more lessons than you could bear, or even lock you away in your chambers until you understood—you must be perfect. She believed she was only doing what was best for you, for your own good.

Even though you only wanted to be perfect, you longed to see the world, to go beyond King’s Landing, even if it was just to Dragonstone. But how could you do that to your mother? She only wanted what was best for you.

“(Your name)! What’s this?” Alicent stormed into the girl’s chambers. “It’s just a wooden sword, mother,” the girl answered, her face showing confusion. “You shouldn’t have this. This is not for a princess. What’s wrong with you, darling? You shouldn’t have this!” Alicent approached her, anger and bewilderment clouding her expression. “You’re grounded. You’re not to leave your room for the next two days. Maybe that will teach you how to behave.” “But, mother—” “NO MORE FIGHTING! I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF IT!”

(Your name) simply stared at the floor, defeated. Without a word of protest, she nodded. Alicent stormed out of the chamber, the sound of the door locking behind her echoing through the room.

Time passed, and when it was time for tea, no one came. That was normal when you were grounded—until Rhaenyra and Jacaerys entered your chambers, accompanied by maids carrying the tea.

“Hello, dear!” Rhaenyra greeted you warmly, with Jacaerys following behind her. “We heard your mother was being difficult. What if we have tea with you instead?” Rhaenyra moved to your side, taking your hand. “But she’ll be furious, Nyra. I don’t want to be grounded again,” you replied, worry evident in your voice. With a pitying look, Rhaenyra kissed your hand. “She won’t know we’re here.”

At that, a small smile appeared on your lips as you reached for the desserts Rhaenyra had thoughtfully brought—your favourites. Jacaerys stayed close, holding your hand as the three of you talked.

“How’s your dragon? I bet they’re incredible!” you asked excitedly.

“They’re amazing! Every lesson, we learn something new! But…” Jacaerys’ voice grew more irritated. “Aemond’s been hanging around again, and he doesn’t even have a dragon. He’s just there to annoy everyone.” “Well, he is Aemond,” you said with a laugh. “He’s just a bit too obsessed with dragons. Mother says he loves them more than anything else. But could you try to be nice to him? Please? He’s still my brother.”

After you spoke, you winced slightly as Jacaerys unintentionally squeezed your hand too tightly.

“Sorry, (your name), I didn’t mean to.” “It’s alright. It wasn’t on purpose,” you said with a smile.

Even though it was never openly discussed, everyone knew about Jacaerys’ quiet obsession with (your name) since you were a baby. He always wanted to be near you, and no matter how much Alicent tried to keep you isolated with endless lessons and punishments, they always found a way to see you. Even when Rhaenyra was busy with her own baby, she would sneak into your chambers, and somehow, they always got away with it. And you were happy for it. No matter how much Alicent, Aemond, or Helaena tried to intervene.

“A pig! They gave me a pig!” Aemond’s furious voice echoed through the corridors of the Red Keep. His footsteps were heavy with frustration as he stormed towards your mother’s chambers. Your heart sank; you knew this wasn’t going to end well.

You rushed down the hall, your small feet trying to keep up. Aemond had always been so determined to prove himself, and once again, he’d come back from the dragonpit humiliated. Jace, Luke, and Aegon had gone too far this time. You always tried to keep them from fighting, but this… this was bad. His shouting grew louder as you neared the room. When you entered, Aemond was pacing like a trapped animal, his face red with anger, and his silver hair messy. Your mother stood nearby, looking pale and worried. She had tried to calm him, but Aemond was beyond listening now.

“They mock me!” he shouted, his purple eyes blazing as he turned to you. “They gave me a pig, (your name). A pig with wings! Like I’m a joke!”

For a moment, you just stood there, unsure of what to say. You could see how much it hurt him. It wasn’t fair.

You walked up to him slowly, your small hand reaching out to touch his arm. “Aemond…” you said quietly, trying to sound brave. “They’re just being mean… but it’s not because of you. You’re going to get your dragon, I know it. And when you do, they won’t laugh anymore. You’ll be so much stronger than them.”

Aemond didn’t say anything at first, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. “But when?” he muttered, his voice shaking. “When will it be my turn, (your name)? Everyone else has their dragons… and they treat me like I’m nothing.”

You could see the hurt in his eyes, the kind that words couldn’t fix. You took a deep breath and squeezed his arm gently. “I don’t know when, but it will happen. I promise. You’re not nothing, Aemond. You’re strong. You’re my big brother.”

His shoulders seemed to relax just a little, and he looked away, the fire in his eyes dimming. For a second, you thought he might feel better. But deep down, you didn’t know that his anger would only keep growing. Every joke, every cruel word was feeding a fire inside him that no one could see.

Laena was dead. She had faced complications during childbirth and, in the end, took matters into her own hands. She went to Vhagar and burned herself alive. You hadn’t seen her or your uncle Daemon since then; in fact, you had only seen him twice: once on your sixth name day, and now. You could feel how deeply this loss had shaken Rhaenyra; she wasn’t herself. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you felt a heaviness too. Baela and Rhaena were there, their sorrow so clear it was almost suffocating, and Laenor seemed utterly lost.

You didn’t know what to do. You always tried to help everyone, but even now, you couldn’t see a way to make things better. The air was thick with grief, yet it felt distant—like a heavy fog that clouded every interaction but kept everyone apart. You walked slowly, the weight of your steps echoing on the stone floors of Driftmark. The silence seemed to carry the presence of Laena’s death in every corner of the hall. It was strange, surreal even, to be here at a time like this, when everything felt like it could unravel at any moment.

Daemon’s reaction puzzled you. His laughter during the ceremony had sent an eerie chill down your spine. Maybe it was his way of coping, or perhaps there was something darker within him. But that was Daemon—unpredictable and always impossible to fully understand, playing by his own rules.

You approached Baela and Rhaena, their small forms huddled together near the edge where the sea raged below. Their faces were pale, eyes red from crying, but they were silent now—their grief too deep for words. They looked so fragile, and it made your heart ache for them.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind. “I know I can’t make anything better, but I’m here if you ever need me.”

Baela gave a small nod, biting her lip, while Rhaena gripped her sister’s hand as if it were her lifeline. Their sorrow was overwhelming, but they remained silent, offering only a brief glance in your direction. You knew it was all they could manage right now. Still, you gave them a small, comforting smile, hoping it might bring them even the tiniest bit of comfort.

Your gaze shifted toward Daemon, who stood off to the side, staring blankly at the horizon. He seemed unfazed by the storm raging around him—the physical one or the emotional one. You couldn’t tell if he even cared or if this was just another chapter in his chaotic life—another loss in a sea of turmoil. Even at your age, you had heard the stories whispered about him: his first wife, the things he had done. But then, his gaze flickered toward you, and for a brief moment, your eyes met. Something passed between you—an understanding, maybe. No words were exchanged, but you smiled at him softly before turning away.

You moved toward Helaena, hoping her presence might offer some solace—or perhaps just a distraction. She stood alone, her eyes focused on a bug crawling on the ground, lost in her own world as always. There was something calming about being near her, a quietness that made the weight of the day seem a little less oppressive.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping beside her. She looked up at you, her eyes filled with a strange sort of wonder you couldn’t quite place.

You both stood there in silence for a while, just existing together. It felt easier that way, less forced. The grief that surrounded you seemed lighter when you were near her. Still, everything felt heavy, and the urge to escape—to be anywhere but here—grew stronger. The sea crashed violently below, the wind howled in the distance, and yet you stayed, tethered to the weight of your family, the expectations, the sorrow, and the unspoken pain that filled the air. For now, all you could do was stand and wait for the storm to pass.

Dreams filled your mind, peaceful and free from nightmares, until you heard voices and footsteps outside the room you were in. Curiosity quickly overtook caution, and despite knowing your mother would be furious, you decided to have a look around. Peeking out, you saw two heads of brown hair and two white ones—it was Baela, Rhaena, Jace, and Luke. But why were they outside at this hour? You hesitated, feeling a little nervous, but decided to follow them.

From one of the windows, you caught sight of him, Aemond. And Vhagar. He’d done it. He had claimed a dragon. You ran, trying to catch up with the others, but in your haste, you lost them for a moment. Unbeknownst to you, a knight had started following you, trying to usher you back to bed. But you were determined.

Then, you found them—and they were fighting. Aemond was holding a rock. Why? Why did he have a rock? What was happening? You were confused, your heart racing.

“Stop! What are you doing?!” you shouted, your voice desperate as you tried to understand the chaos in front of you.

Aemond turned to look at you, his face a mixture of anger and pain, but before he could respond, dust was thrown into his eyes.

And then it happened—the dagger slashed across his face, slicing through his eye.

“No! What have you done?!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, rushing towards Aemond, trying to help him, panic rising in your chest.

"Let me see, Prince, let me see," the knight said, appearing beside you as he tried to assist your brother, his voice urgent.

You were scared, your hands trembling as you reached out to Aemond, but there was nothing you could do. His eye was gone.

You were still trembling when the knight led you back into the hall where everyone had gathered. The air was thick with tension, and the weight of what had just happened made it hard to breathe. Your mother, Alicent, was standing over Aemond, her face twisted in a mixture of shock, grief, and fury. She had seen the wound, seen the blood pouring from her son's ruined eye. Aemond sat there, the maesters fussing over him, trying to stop the bleeding, but he remained calm—too calm. His face was eerily blank, as though he had already accepted his fate. But you hadn’t. You were still shaking, the image of the dagger slicing through his eye burned into your mind. And yet, the horror of it all was drowned out by the fear rising inside you. You feared her. You feared Rhaenyra.

Alicent's voice rang out, sharp and unwavering, as she demanded justice. "An eye for an eye," she declared, her voice filled with a cold rage you hadn’t seen in her before. "They have maimed my son! They must pay for this!"

You tried to shrink back, standing near the edge of the room, trying to stay out of sight, but Aemond wouldn't let you, holding your hand more tightly and looking at you with his now only eye. You didn’t want to be part of this, but there was no escaping it. The words your mother had whispered so many times before now echoed in your head, louder than ever. 'Rhaenyra is dangerous.' 'Her sons are a threat to you and your siblings. They will stop at nothing.'

And as much as you didn’t want to believe it, after what had just happened, you felt that maybe your mother had been right all along. Rhaenyra stood across the room, tense and defensive, her eyes flashing with worry for Jace and Luke. Sometimes she tried to look into your eyes, but you always looked away.

You didn’t understand. She had always been so kind to you, and you had always liked her. You could even say that you wished she were your mother instead of Alicent. And Jace and Luke had always played with you, promising they would be kinder to your brother. But now, with Aemond’s blood staining the floor, you saw something different in her—a danger that you hadn’t seen before; their promises were all fake.

“I demand justice,” Alicent said again, stepping forward, her eyes locked on Rhaenyra. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched, unable to tear your eyes away.

King Viserys stood between them, his face pale with exhaustion and grief. He tried to calm the storm, but you could feel the fury radiating from your mother.

“I will have one of her sons’ eyes!” she cried, her voice trembling with emotion. She was wild with rage, desperate for justice. You had never seen her like this before, and it terrified you.

Viserys shouted for calm, trying to bring order to the chaos, but it was no use. Alicent was already reaching for the dagger at his side.

You gasped, your small hands covering your mouth as you watched in horror, taking your hand away from Aemond’s hand. Your mother, the woman who had always taught you to be measured and composed, was now lunging for Rhaenyra with a blade in hand. You wanted to scream, but the words caught in your throat. You were frozen in place, too scared to move. The clash was swift and brutal. Rhaenyra caught Alicent’s wrist before the blade could strike, and the two women stood there, locked in a furious struggle.

“You’ve gone too far, Alicent,” Rhaenyra hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

For the first time, you saw the true divide between them. And you realised, in that moment, that this wasn’t just a fight over Aemond’s eye. It was about power, about the throne, and in that moment, you didn't know that it was also about you.

“You see now, do you?” Alicent’s voice wavered, her eyes burning with a mix of heartbreak and rage as she looked at Rhaenyra. “Everyone can see now what you truly are.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood there, too young to fully understand the depth of the betrayal, but old enough to know that nothing would ever be the same. You thought of all the times you had laughed with Jace and Luke, how you had always felt safe around Rhaenyra. But now, doubt gnawed at you. Maybe your mother was right; Rhaenyra was truly dangerous. You now saw that you were a threat to her throne, just as much as your brothers and sister were.

Aemond’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and cold, chilling the room. “It was a fair exchange,” he said, his one remaining eye burning with defiance. “I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Alicent froze, her dagger still clutched in her hand, as everyone turned to look at Aemond. His words were final, like the closing of a chapter.

And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that now everything had changed, that you no longer saw Rhaenyra as you once had. Now you despised her, despised Jacaerys, and despised Lucerys.

You didn’t trust them now.

Pt. 3>> (Coming Soon)

Author's Note: Hi everyone! I apologize for the delay in updates; as a full-time college student, I have a lot of assignments to juggle. I promise I’ll try to be quicker with my posts from now on. I’ve also added a poll to my profile where you can vote on whether (your name) will have a dragon, and if so, which one. If you don’t want to participate, that’s completely fine! Thank you for your understanding and for reading!

Tag list: @ursinaw @dakota-rain666 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @pookiedragonfire @jjggdfvvy @maryldrsstuff @1soultaken

[tan1shere]

I'm Sorry

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: saw this video on tiktok of this girl accidentally breaking a gift her bf got her and her being so apologetic, and I can just imagine how bill would be with you:(

Summary: Billie reassures you when you accidentally break her gift.

Warnings: none just fluff ! Kinda angst tho ??

Masterlist

It was time again. Your birthday, just another year of getting older. You were currently laying in bed, half asleep as the sun was shining through the curtains. You then feel hands on your shoulders. "Babyy, its your birthday!" Billie sings as she says that. You cover your face. "Does it have to be." She plops down on the bed. "Oh come on, it's not every day you're 21!" You open an eye to see she had a few gifts. Your other eye opens as you look at her. "Bubba, I thought we agreed on two at most." She puts her finger up to your lips. "I couldn't help myself."

You sigh with a bright smile, sitting up to prepare for her little gifts. She hands you the first one, some clothes you had been wanting. Next up, some skin care. She was always so thoughtful of the things you needed. And lastly, maybe your favorite. You open up the wrapping revealing a glass red rose. You marvel at it. "I know how much you love roses and how upset you get when they start to die, but this way you can have it all the time." She smiles at you. Your eyes meet hers as you almost have tears in them. You leap over to hug her tightly.

"Thank you baby! I love it so so much." She smiles. "Knew you would." Her hands grab your face, thumb swiping over your cheek. "Happy birthday angel." She leans in to kiss you softly, so glad you like the gifts. "Some of them came from your mother. I put them in a vase already for you." You then kiss her cheek, placing the glass rose down on the bedside table. "Thank you babe, I'll go smell them soon."

A few days pass and you honestly had the best birthday ever, Billie was spoiling you like crazy. Took you out for a nice meal too. Today you were working from home, doing some needed chores along the way. Bill was at Finneases working on some stuff in his studio. You did take a small break though. Getting into bed and scrolling for a glass case to put around your new gift. Just to make sure it's safe. You go to grab your water, but as you do. Eyes glued to your screen. You hear a shatter. Uh oh. Your head turns slowly.

Panic rising within you. "Fuck. No no no." You say frantically trying not to freak out. You get on the floor picking up the pieces. Shit. It was really broken. You cry. Cry because you broke the sweetest gift, given by the sweetest person and you broke it. You curse at yourself. You feel so stupid. You're an idiot your brain tells you.

How.

Could.

You.

You grab the pieces, but as you do you accidentally cut your finger. "Shit!" You winced. How could this get any worse. You pick up any remaining shards. Standing up and contemplating. She was gunna hate you. You thought. You don't blame her, you had only just got it. Your hands go to your hair, all these bad thoughts rushing through. You were going to have a shower after you got the case. But now you don't even need the case because you stupidly broke the rose. So. Stupid. Your tears still streaming down your face, you felt so awful. The image of Billie being so hurt right after she was so excited giving it to you.

You get into the shower, sliding down the wall. All you could think about was how she was going to react when she comes home. The hot water ran over your crying form. You hadn't even heard the front door open and Billie calling out like she always does. Until you hear faint footsteps and the bathroom door open. "Baby?" Had she seen it yet...

"Y-yeah.." You reply, she opens up the curtain to see you in the position you were in. Confused as anything. "What's going on love?" She always knew when something was bothering you. "I'm so sorry." You pathetically cry out. "Baby, talk to me." She says stopping the water from running. You just shake your head, lip quivering. "Sweetheart, please." You take a moment. "Don't hate me." You weakly say. "How could I ever?" Her bewilderment made your heart ache more for what you are about to tell her.

"Go look on my bedside floor." Your voice was hushed. So incredibly worried as she goes to do so. Her eyes land on the last little bits of glass, looking at the shattered mess on your table. Her heart breaks, but not because you broke it and most definitely by accident. It was because you were so upset, she hated seeing you upset. She comes back in the room to you still in tears. "Bub, hey. It's ok." - "it's not. Im so sorry I'm so-" She stops your apologies. "Baby. We can fix it. It's fixable. And if not I'll just buy you another. I swear to you. It's all ok."

Her voice was tender. So soft and reassuring. Your crying settles just a bit. "Are you sure?" She nods. "So incredibly sure. I'm not mad my girl, never ever would be." Her hand extends out for yours. You take it and get out of the shower. "Are you hurt?" You pout at how sweet she was, you loved this woman to absolute death. "What?" She chuckles. You just shake your head. "Youre just so kind, I love you." She brings you in for a hug, you wrap your arms tightly around her. She couldn't give a single fuck that your body was dripping wet.

It lasted for a long time, before she pulls back and looks at you. "I did just a tiny bit but I'm ok." You state. "Where abouts?" You show her the red mark on your thumb, she grabs it. Bringing it to her lips as kissing it gently. "Like I said before if we can't fix it I'll buy a new one, this time with a case."

"Great idea."

[logansbaby]

FIX YOU - LOGAN HOWLETT

❥ summary: Logan Howlett is dying. You both know it, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.

word count: 1.7k

pairings: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

content warnings: 18+ NSFW, MDNI, angst!!!! so much angst, mentions of death, foreshadowing the events of ‘Logan’, smut, piv (unprotected— be smart irl), feelings, sadness

❥ a/n: guys!!!!!! i was listening to fix you by coldplay (highly recommend whilst reading) and it screams oldman logan and pain! this is literally just angst and smut but i hope you enjoy anyway <3

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

MAROON blood tinged the white dress shirt Logan wore, groans of agony falling from his frown as he stumbled into the makeshift house.

The sound of heavy steps startled you from your position on the couch, and despite your drowsy state, you tossed the unread book and dashed to see him. Anxiety tingled your fingertips, anguish swirling within your belly at what you might find.

You were right to feel anxious, because the sight of Logan caused your breath to hitch, chest to heave, and your lashes to glisten.

“Oh, Logan.” It was merely a whisper, yet he’d heard it all the same. It was an ironic joke that his healing was almost gone, but his hearing was as good as it had been years prior. “Logan.”

It seemed his name was all you could manage, your throat choked up in feelings you desperately tried to push down, along with the pesky, salty tears.

The once crisp, white shirt was soaked with blood, bullet holes littering from his chest to his navel. The crimson liquid had dried long ago but you knew he ached. You could see it in the way his clenched fingers shook, in the way exhaustion draped over his features. The man before you was a ghost of the man you’d met so long ago and the realization had unwanted emotions clawing at your throat, begging to be let out.

Before he could open his mouth, you ran into him and wrapped yourself around his middle tight, your grip not unlike that of a koala on a branch.

Logan hissed, new painful sensations blossoming where you gripped him, but he ignored it in favor of returning the embrace. One arm came around the curve of your waist as the other held the back of your head gently, like you were made of glass.

Maybe you were.

“It’s okay, baby.” He whispered, lips pressed against your forehead. “I’m okay. I’ll heal.”

It wasn’t, he wasn’t, and he wouldn’t— something you both knew.

You’d never tell him this, but each time he left, fear gripped you tightly. Before any of this, you knew he’d always return home to you, alive and completely unscathed. But times had changed, and for the worse, it seemed. You noticed before he did, that his healing had begun to slow down, and it scared you horribly.

He’d refuse to talk about what it meant, instead choosing to ignore reality in true Logan fashion, but you knew. You both knew that he was on borrowed time, and you knew one of these days his regeneration would dry up and he wouldn’t get back up.

One day, you’d have to walk the earth without the love of your life by your side and the very thought made you fucking ill, threatened to bring you to your knees and release the trapped agony.

Your heart picked up, beating vigorously against your ribcage, causing Logan’s bruised mouth to frown. He pulled back, hands moving to cradle your face as he looked into unfocused, hazy eyes.

“Hey— can hear you overthinkin’, it’s okay. I’m okay. I’m here, I’m here.” He muttered, the gruffness of his voice leading you back to the present. “There she is.”

“It’s not, you’re hurt. You’re bleeding and I— what even happened?” With your brows furrowed, questions spilled from your bitten lips without thought. “And don’t lie to me.”

He sighed.

“Just had a run in with some bad guys, that’s it.”

“Logan—“

“Should see the other guys, baby.” He joked, the need to ease the tension bubbling in the air was overwhelming. He was desperate to lessen the worry blanketing your face. He hated that you rarely smiled anymore.

When you let out a wet laugh, he knew he’d succeeded, despite the unshed sadness dusting your eyes.

For a moment, you just stared at him, eyes wide as they traced every inch of his face, as if to savor Logan’s face to memory. Then, you leant up and pressed sweet, soft kisses wherever you could reach— his neck, chest, chin, and bottom lip.

Even after all the years you’d been together, butterflies danced around wildly in his stomach at your touch.

“C’mere.” He was already trailing beside you because the taut grip you had on his hand refused to leave him behind. “Let me clean you up.”

And despite the throbbing of his bones, he followed you, because of course he did. If he hadn’t had you, he would’ve been two whisky bottles in by now, and the blood would’ve stayed crusted on his skin as he fell asleep. You never let him spiral, though, and you refused to have him do so now. He’d never said thank you for that, but he hoped you felt it in his kiss, in the way he held you.

Logan was pushed onto the couch then, his thoughts melting away as your hands gently pressed him until his body folded on the cushion. You disappeared for a moment, before returning with the necessary products to clean his wounds.

Instead of sitting beside him, which would’ve been more practical, you plopped yourself onto his lap. When he groaned at the sudden weight, you smiled sheepishly through hooded eyes.

“Sorry, just want to be close to you.” It was mumbled, just loud enough to be heard and you knew it was understood when a tiny smirk graced Logan’s lips.

“Don’t mind, princess.” His amusement grew and spread into a full-on smile at the way your face grew rosy. He always did like riling you up, no matter the situation.

Wordlessly, you got to work; unbuttoning his ruined shirt and tossing the bloodied fabric to the floor mindlessly. With a warm rag, you began wiping away the reminders of a fight. Logan let out a couple groans as your fingers prodded at some deeper wounds, urging out the bullet casings until they plopped on the sofa. His body had stopped any massive injuries from forming, but he still wore the aftermath of his attackers.

Logan lost track of time as he opted to stare at you; he’d rather not think about how his body continued to fail him anymore.

From the strands of your hair framing your flushed face, to the plushness of your lips, of which were taken hostage between your teeth in concentration, he admired you. You were so, so beautiful, so angelic, that it shook him, even after all this time.

He hoped that when his body failed him for the last time, when he sucked in his last breath of oxygen, you were the last thing he saw.

“Done! Good as new.” Though your words were teasing, your tone was anything but. Your eyes were somber, filled with so much emotion it devastated you. The reflection of his own powerful feelings mirroring yours comforted you.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, handsome.”

For a while, the both of you stared at each other in a heavy silence. Both sets of eyes were tracing every detail before them, to ensure nothing was missed when he was finally gone, but none of you were brave enough to say so. The unspoken heaviness threatened to crush you both with the weight of it all.

And then— you’re unsure how it happened, who leant in first. All you knew is that the overwhelming, crushing need to be as close as possible to one another, in every way possible, suddenly became the most important thing in the world.

The minute your lips met, everything else faded to static. It was slow at first, gentle as you both savored the feel, before it was an abrupt burst of passion.

Your hands wrapped around his neck tightly, fingers playing with the graying hairs at his neck, yanking when his tongue slipped past slick, swollen lips. Logan’s hands gripped your hips possessively, and as your tongues danced together in a familiar rhythm, he began to drag you up and down across his lap.

It was dirty— the messy drag of lips, the spit connecting as you broke apart to gather oxygen into your lungs, the grinding of your clothed, sobbing cunt across his throbbing cock. It was so dirty yet filled with so much emotion, so much adoration and love.

It wasn’t long before he had you filled to the brim, full of him. Once you’d started bouncing up and down on him, drunk on how fucking good he felt, the tears spilled over the apples of your cheeks.

Maybe it was the sheer pleasure zipping through you, the lick of heat teasing your lower belly. Or perhaps it was the fact that you were reminded that everything with Logan was fleeting. The reason didn’t matter, not when you slumped against his chest and sobbed his name desperately, hips now moving in a slow grind across his lap.

“Logan— love you so, so much,” you cried out, the words mumbled against his sweaty chest.

“My pretty girl,” Logan spoke knowingly, hands going to the supple thighs and fucking you up and down on his cock once more. “I got you, I always have you.”

The mixture of euphoria with his words, a double meaning laced between them, had a loud moan tumbling from your mouth, hips jerking at the feel of your puffy clit bumping the hair smattered at the base of him. Every sensation flowing through you was heightened and when Logan thrusted up into your weepy pussy, you clenched around him so tight, he growled. The movement sent you both reeling, orgasms crowding your senses with the intensity of it all.

Logan kissed you then, thrusting his come into you as deep as he could. Your whine was swallowed by his mouth, so full of him in a way that made your heart swell, chest tingle bittersweet. Whispers of ‘I love you’ melted into the embrace of your lips, and all the pressing emotions and fears came hurtling back down full force.

Neither of you moved, content to stay connected, even as his cock softened inside you, as the mixture of your releases pooled on sticky, sweat-slicked skin. Your body wrapped around his, hands tickling the scarred skin of his back as his lips peppered wet kisses across the expanse of your neck.

It hit you once more that Logan was your everything and you wanted to cry.

So, you did. Water spilled down your face and onto his chest as you cried. Logan spoke mantras of ‘Shh, it’s okay’ and ‘I’m here, I love you’ as you let your tears go, even as his own eyes were wet with sorrow.

You both knew it was anything but okay. It was only a matter of time.

[chelseeebe]

jinx

18+ mdni. no smut but eddie is a grade a asshole to poor reader. mentions of weed and alcohol throughout. eddie munson x fem reader.

a/n: first off, anon i am sooo sooooo sorry it has taken me this long to fulfill your request!! i absolutely loved this request and am absolutely honoured that you came to me for it<33 i hope i've done it justice and that you still care to read this:') side note, i've updated my masterlist as i have slacked a bit but everything should be on there now ^.^

love me some chelseeebe angst—imagine fuckboy!eddie plays at the hideout right like regularly. reader starts frequenting his show days bc she likes him obviously but he starts noticing something. every time she comes in, something goes wrong. either he messes up a chord or cant see to flirt properly therefore no one ends up warming his bed as of late or something of the sort

his immediate first thought is ‘she’s a jinx!!!’ bc what other explanation could there be in his boy brain??? so he asks her to stop coming in. she does and yet he continues to mess up bc all he can think abt is her.

itd be so sexy if u added a moment of realization/angry love confession where in the middle of him being like you’ve bewitched me or something!!! he realizes hes the one obsessed with her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the party hums on in the background, a small group gathered outside to rob eddie blind, smoking away his entire supply. 

robin giggles nonsensically into steve’s shoulder, too high for her own good. 

“if you’re gonna smoke all my shit, the least you can do is come watch us tomorrow,” eddie had been nagging his friends to come down the hideout for months. they’d gathered a solid crowd now, not much but it was a start. 

robin groans, nancy and jonathan shift in their seats, steve can barely muster enough energy to reply and argyle snores. hardly enthusiastic about his dreams. 

“i’ll come,” you offer, bright-eyed as you smile politely at him from the floor. 

a friend of a friend, someone robin met in class and had dutifully introduced to the group. he didn’t know you well, nor had he ever really cared to. 

“i don’t think you’d like it, sweetheart” eddie retorts, flattered that you’d try and spare his feelings but he didn’t need your pity. 

“why? you can’t be that bad,” chuckling quietly to yourself. 

his eyes narrow, scoffing, “we’re not,” misunderstanding, or maybe just not caring to humour you back, “come if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not as if any of his friends had offered to attend. 

“okay,” nodding along, “i will.” 

“alright,” turning his attention back to the embering joint glued to argyles fingers. 

who cares if you come? eddie certainly doesn’t. 

-

sure enough, the same couple dozen old drunks fill the bar, their glossy, zombie-like eyes stare back at him from the floor. he’d complain but beggars can’t be choosers and all that. 

they’re partway through the second song when something reflects in his eye, a low-cut sequinned top that would definitely look better on the floor of his van. 

it’s only when his eyes travel up that he realises it’s you who’s wearing that shirt, already looking straight back at him. a newfound look about you, thick lines of black line your eyes, worlds apart from the mousy girl who’d invited herself last night. 

“and we’re-,” he sings, an abrupt case of dry mouth as the next line struggles to come out, “we’re.. uh,” the entire song erased from his memory within seconds. 

he steps back from the mic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to trigger his voice though all he can see is you and that ridiculous top. 

gareth’s head whips round, still strumming along before picking up eddie’s slack, continuing the lyrics on his own, not without a damning glare in eddie’s direction. 

holy fuck. 

he’s just, taken aback, that’s all. shocked that you’d even bother to come, less so put the effort in to actually look the part too. 

his eyes don’t leave the back wall for the rest of the gig, practically stumbling through all of the songs as his head threatens to wander. trailing back to you only as they finish, walking off stage to down the harshest whisky the bar would allow. 

you saunter over a couple minutes later, while eddie tries his hardest not to stare right down your shirt. he’s not certain that he won’t choke on his words if you speak to him. 

“you were really good tonight,” you assure, smiling softly as his band mate turns to gawp. 

“uh, yeah.. thanks,” eddie fumbles, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “thanks for coming.” 

there’s an aura surrounding you, like a wretched spell you’d evoked in him, turning him to a bumbling fool. 

“i’m gonna head out..” gesturing to the door, “see you around,” waving your fingers coyly at him before disappearing. 

his eyes linger at the door, wondering if maybe you’ll turn around and come back. not that he wants that. just curious as to why you’d come out just to see him play. 

“now who the hell was that?” jeff ogles, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs from eddie and a loud oof as he clutches his side. 

“a friend of a friend,” brushing him off, “don’t be weird about it,” jumping the gun to squash any sorts of ideas festering in his mind. 

“you’re the only one being weird about it,” jeff retorts, grabbing his beer and shuffling off. 

“i’m not being weird,” eddie calls from behind, “i’m not!” 

okay maybe he was being a little weird. 

who cares? 

definitely not eddie. 

-

this week, he feels more prepared to see you nodding along in the crowd, robin had joined you albeit looking less than impressed. 

eddie’s killing it, at least he thinks. avoiding looking anywhere in your direction, keeping his gaze on the stumbling drunk at the back instead. 

but the thoughts of you can’t help but creep into his mind, were you enjoying it? do you think he’s bad? why does he even care so much? 

his hand slides down the neck of the guitar, playing the wrong chord entirely, his fingers curating a mind of their own. 

fuck fuck fuck. 

why does this keep happening? 

gareth glares at him again, he had never been so frustrated with his idiot bandmate in his life. sure eddie liked to dick around in rehearsal but never on stage. 

if eddie ever wanted a career in music, he needed to get a monumental grip on himself. weird girls he barely knew should not have the capacity to ruin his career. 

after they clamber off stage, eddie makes a point of not going over to the two of you. no, you can come to him. 

though he wishes you’d just be a little faster at it if he’s honest. too busy squished into a booth with one of the younger regulars to care about him. 

heat rises in his chest, searing his cheeks a bright rouge, “-who is that?” gareth interrupts, bumping into his arm. 

“who’s who?” eddie coughs, clearing his throat as his eyes snap back. 

“that girl you’ve been staring at,” peering across the room to get a glimpse. 

“i’m not staring at anyone,” abruptly turning his head in the opposite direction, proving to himself that he wasn’t staring, not really. 

“you’re a liar,” gareth calls him on his bullshit immediately, “go talk to her! she’s hot,” scooting his friend along. 

“no she’s not,” you looked good tonight, he’d give you that, “can everyone please just stop being weird about this? first jeff- now you? honestly, i don’t get it,” working himself into a frenzy over what really was nothing. 

gareth’s eyes widen, scoffing at his melodramatic performance, “alright man.. calm down,” shaking his head in mild disgust. 

eddie was totally calm, you know, apart from his heart pounding in his chest. 

nothing major. 

-

filthy, downright pornographic sounds fill his cramped van, certain that it was rocking side to side with the utter obscenity happening in the back. 

chloe sits atop of his lap, tongues dancing around one another as she glides her hips back and forth. she was a regular, slightly older than eddie, at least he thinks, they’d made eyes a few times but only tonight had he gathered the courage to go and speak to her. 

any other time, eddie would be rock solid, pinning her down and fucking her into the dusty floor. today, it’s just not happening. 

his mind elsewhere, too preoccupied with nonsense to appreciate the opportunity at hand. 

he's thinking about you and the fact you’d left the bar without ever coming over to him tonight. what the fuck was that about? 

had he done something wrong? 

he breaks apart from her mouth, heaving into the tiny gap between them, “i don’t know what’s going on..” he chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his useless dick, “normally something happens by now..” 

she frowns, deep-set, showing her age more than before, “oh.” 

he reaches down, furiously palming his cock through his jeans. 

nothing. not even a twitch. 

he wants to curl up and die. never in his three years of actually getting laid has this ever happened. eddie got hard at the drop of a pin, he’d only have to think about boobs and his jeans would shift. 

so why the fuck wasn’t it working tonight?

“i’m gonna go,” chloe scowls, clambering over his legs, gathering her bag while not even attempting to hide her disappointment. 

eddie shoots up, pathetically crawling after her, desperate not to let her go. 

“it’s not me!” he screams out, watching helplessly as she crawls out of the van, “it’s you!”

no. 

“wait no! shit, that’s not what i meant,” peeking out of the van to find the empty parking lot, zero women to be found, “fuck sake.” 

left to wallow in his self-pity, alone, in the back of his dirty van. 

just as he deserved. 

if this was some karmic intervention, telling him to be a better person, he certainly wasn’t paying it any attention. 

-

another party meant another night of eddie trying to understand why the hell you had such an effect on him. 

it’s not even like you’re doing anything particularly riveting, sat with your drink in hand, nodding along to robin’s story. 

he can’t stand it. 

you have to go. 

maybe not like that, but he had to put some distance between you. there’s no way he could keep his sanity while you were still a constant in his life. 

eddie sidles over, feeling like the smartest guy in the room. he could do this, separate himself from you and your clutches and go back to playing as he once did. 

you smile upon him appearing, sickly and sweet. it makes his heart thump in the weirdest way. 

“oh.. hey,” playing this entirely nonchalantly, “i just thought i’d let you know that we’re not playing next week,” lying through his teeth, guilt ridden but really, it was necessary if he wanted to play a gig without fucking up the entire time. 

“oh,” sounding somewhat disappointed, “okay.. how come?” 

shit. 

he can’t think of a single valid reason as to why they wouldn’t be playing. 

“jeff’s sick.. real bad,” feeling even more guilty for lying about his friends health, wondering if he’s cursing jeff as you did him, “might even be a couple weeks off at this point.”

eddie was a terrible person. 

but so were you. 

bewitching him under some spell, forcing him to play terribly and embarrass himself in front of women 

you’ve jinxed him. a bad omen cursing him to play like a fucking amateur. that’s the only logical explanation his pea brain can conjure up anyway. 

that meant you had to stay away from the shows, from him preferably. 

he couldn’t understand why you have this effect on him, why your mere presence has him becoming a floundering fool. you don’t intimidate him, not even close. 

it’s almost as if he cares too much about what you think, to the extent that he overthinks it so hard that he fucks up. 

a curse that could only be broken with some distance between you. that way he could focus on the show instead of you and your doe eyes reflecting off of the stage lights. 

that’s what he’s praying for anyway. 

-

eddie despises wednesday’s. itching to get his classes over and done with so he can get his small taste of stardom on that tiny hideout stage. 

at some point over the last few weeks of you being an omnipotent presence in his life, he’d grown accustomed to crossing paths with you before the gig. 

crossing campus with your chin tucked down, arms wrapped tight around your books. typically only sharing a smile or a short nod. 

but this week you saunter over, resembling a frightened deer even more than usual. 

he pulls his headphone from his ear, anticipating whatever nonsensical, vaguely cute thing you were going to say. 

“hey,” he nods, a coy smile. 

even now you have his palms sweating, overthinking whether he should’ve said hi or hello instead. 

“you didn’t have to lie to me,” you start, brows furrowed, “it’s fine if you don’t want me to go to your gigs anymore, i don’t care,” a disappointed frown plaguing your normally cheerful face. “i thought i liked you eddie, really- but i don’t know anymore.. you’re not a good person.” 

you turn to walk off before he can even compute your words. 

oh shit. 

“wait!” he calls but it’s useless, “i didn’t- i wasn’t- fuck.”

it was unthinkably cruel, he didn’t think you’d ever find out. and maybe that was his problem, assuming you didn’t care enough to find out. 

guilt addles his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. for good reason too. 

eddie was an asshole. a true, grade-a asshole that wayne would positively despise him for. 

wait wait wait. 

you liked him? 

you liked him?

absolutely not. no way. that wasn’t what this was about.

or it’s not supposed to be. 

no, this was some adolescent feud, a confusing, one-sided, friendship that he couldn’t get a grip on. 

you didn’t like him. girls like you weren’t supposed to. 

-

it’s not at all surprising that he plays like absolute shit tonight too. 

guilt ridden for forcing your hand, for making you look at him like that. as if he were the worst person to walk the earth. 

shit, maybe he was. 

kind hearted people didn’t lie and deceive. no, kind hearted people came to gigs they obviously didn’t give a shit about. kind hearted people feigned interest in boring spiel about weed strains and whatever the fuck else eddie jabbered on about at parties. 

you, you were kind. kinder than he deserved. 

gareth slaps him harshly on the back the second they’re back behind the curtain, a scornful yet pitying scowl on his face, “look man,” he begins, “i dunno what’s going on with you but i don’t know how much longer they’re gonna let us play here if you keep playing like that.”

eddie sighs, because he knows this. he’s well aware that his performances have been lacklustre for weeks now. he just doesn’t really understand why. 

at first he thought it was just because you were there, a distance friend who would feed back to his friends about how good, or bad, he was. 

but that wasn’t it. 

you were there, and then you weren’t. and he still played like shit. 

somewhere entangled deep within his wretched heart, he thinks that maybe he just wanted to impress you. 

a nice girl, cares about her studies way more than he does, pretty too and you didn’t look at him like he was just some out of touch stoner with crazy dreams of his band getting big. 

you were polite, listening to his wacky stories and dreams of playing for thousands, in fact, you encouraged them, more than his friends ever had for sure. 

eddie’s not sure if, or how, he’ll ever be able to make amends for how he’s treated you. 

-

he’s making himself sick with worry. guilt wracking his brain. 

you don’t turn up that night, obviously. 

eddie’s eyes mindlessly search the crowd for any hint of you. his fingers failing to correspond with the rest of band, always playing a beat behind. 

you had infected him, ruined his once masterful skill to just a shell of what it once was. 

he doesn’t lay opportunity for the boys to speak to him again, rushing out of the bar as soon as his guitar is back in her case. 

there’s only one place he can think about going. 

a few months back, you’d hosted robin’s birthday party there and eddie had disgraced your bathroom with a girl he can’t even remember now. 

his fist bangs on the door, hoping the light in the upstairs window was you and not one of your roommates he’d have to shamefully apologise to. 

the orange light cascades over your face, peeking out from the barely cracked door with a frown that would scare any man off. 

“what’re you doing?” you spit, looking backwards in hopes he hadn’t woken the entire house up. 

“listen,” he sighs, “i’m real sorry about.. you know, lying to you,” his shoulders slumped over themselves, “but i just- i can’t fucking play when you’re there, can’t play when you’re not,” sounding utterly pathetic, begging for you to cure him from this sudden sickness. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” dragging his hand over his face. 

rightfully earning his spot as the worlds biggest fucking loser, stood on your doorstep begging for an answer. 

when he opens his eyes enough to look at you, you’re scowling back at him. nothing like how he had planned this situation in his head. 

he’d hoped that miraculously you’d understand, accept his apology and somehow still feel the same as you had. 

because that was it, really. 

too terrified to face the fact that he liked you too. 

somewhere in his heart of hearts he’d known it from the start. that’s why his heart fluttered when you’d volunteered to come or why he’d struggled to even touch anyone else. 

“what do you want me to say?” shrugging, “i won’t come back, that’s fine,” he wishes you’d just follow the script he’d curated for you. 

eddie doesn’t want you to stop coming, he never had. it’s killing him that you even believed that, twisting the knife in his chest further and further the more your bottom lip juts out and your eyes water. 

“actually, maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” you suggest, throwing him completely off kilter. 

woah. 

that wasn’t at all what he wanted nor was he trying to say. he just couldn’t gather the actual words he needed to express that to you. 

petrified that he’d admit to his feelings and you’d just turn around and laugh, how could someone like you ever like such a cruel man? 

“wait no, that’s not what i meant-,” bargaining with you for a little time to explain himself, though you definitely didn’t owe him any.

“-thanks for coming eddie, i’ll see you around,” flashing him a crestfallen smile before abruptly closing the door in his face. 

-

public humiliation was truly the only way eddie could think to make it up to you. 

well that and maybe a little big nudge from robin. 

he’d rather stupidly asked about you on saturday night, confused why you weren’t there alongside robin, who had very quickly got him in check. 

“why do you think dumbass?” she snapped, snarling her teeth at him, “you were an asshole and now she’s doesn’t want to come anymore,” her glare powerful and harsh, "i'd say you were lucky she didn't punch you in the face."

he’d deserve it. 

it had taken weeks of convincing to get you anywhere near the hideout again. not to mention the hundreds in free weed he’d had to bribe robin with to get her to help. 

you stand in a dark corner, hands folded against your chest, puzzled and irritated by robin’s incessant begging to get you here. 

“there’s someone here that i wanna apologise to,” his eyes don’t find you as easy this time, after weeks of missing your presence, he’s not used to you actually being in the crowd again, “if you know us, you know i can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, uh..” they find you, the lump only growing in his throat, “i’m sorry,” tunnel vision blocking out every other body in the room, “i’m really, really sorry.”

you blink, staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. it makes him a little bit nauseous to recall how dreadfully he’d treated you, how you deserved absolutely none of it. 

your gaze lowers, and eddie can’t decide how to take it. he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never forgive him, but he also couldn’t take it if you didn’t. 

his voice cracks a little as he speaks, “this is.. uh, we’re corroded coffin,” stepping back from the mic to gather his thoughts before the drum comes crashing in. 

-

eddie plays the best he’s potentially ever played. 

a force overcoming him to prove that he truly wasn’t as much as a loser as he’s shown himself to be.  

usually, he couldn’t wait to be off that stage and to the bar but today he’s dreading it. 

knowing that you’re somewhere out there waiting for an explanation. 

or maybe you weren’t. he wouldn’t blame you if you’d decided to leave soon after he’d embarrassed himself with that shitty apology. 

gareth runs up behind him, using his shoulders to launch himself into the air, “holy shit! that was amazing!” the boy presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek before continuing, “whatever the hell you did, keep doing it because that was insane!” running off past eddie to grab his weekly complimentary beer. 

a sudden sickness fills his stomach, slyly hoping that he could slip out of here before anyone else noticed him. 

you stand across the bar, waiting to catch his eye with your lips curled only ever-so-slightly. 

eddie’s limbs go stiff, still entranced by your jinx. by you.

your eyes trail away to the door as his follow, shuffling your way through the bustling crowd. 

his legs carry him without a second thought, out into the cool night as his eyes frantically search for you. 

he finds you perched against the crumbling stone wall a few feet from the entrance, just far enough away from the prying eyes of the smoking patrons. 

“i didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” is all he can say, feet trailing along the gravel. 

the streetlight glistens orange from your eyes, staring up at him from your perch, “i didn’t want to,” your smile only growing as he nears, “robin made me.” 

“oh,” it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that or that he didn’t orchestrated the entire thing, it just felt odd to hear it from your mouth. 

“i’m glad i came,” you clarify, allowing him to finally release the breath held tight in his chest. 

eddie dares to move closer, sitting back on the brick just inches away, “yeah?” 

you nod, the great big smile he’d forced away making a return at last, “yeah.” 

suddenly the air feels thick, it was easier apologising on stage, those people didn’t know him, they didn’t care. but now, sat here in front of you, it feels like he’s swallowing knives. 

“i’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” though it sounds meaningless now the damage was done, “i don’t know if you still care about me at all, but i- um,” his throat runs dry, clamping his eyes shut. it felt easier that way, somehow, “i think the reason why i was such.. an asshole,” the light flickers through his eyelids again, deciding that you at least deserved to see him, “fuck,” he exclaims, staring back at your confused expression. 

“it’s okay,” soothing even now, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” a twinge of sadness running through your tone. 

“no, no i do,” eddie persists. he’d fumbled once, he couldn’t do it again. “shit man,” he sighs, “i’m trying to tell you that i like you too, or maybe not too, i know i was an ass and i don’t deserve your forgiveness-,” your lips cuts him off mid-mumble, surging forward to press them against his blathering ones. 

he has to blink a couple times, taking in whatever the fuck was happening to him. 

you pull back, disappointed that his brain had been to fuzzy to focus on kissing you back. too preoccupied with trying not to explode and paint you in red. 

“really eddie.. it’s okay,” returning to your usual reserved self while his brain still struggles to compute. 

“can we do that again?” he asks politely, keeping the bubbling excitement to a minimum. 

you laugh, a real, throaty laugh, something he hadn’t heard in weeks, “only if you promise to stop talking,” leaning in once more, the rigid wall suddenly feeling like it was about to collapse from underneath him. 

your soft, cherry-tinted lips press against his forehead a second time, allowing him to gather his brain from a pile of mush on the floor just enough to actually kiss you back. a tender hand reaching out to caress his stubbly cheek, sending shockwaves through his limbs. 

you’re interrupted again by a loud whoop from behind, robin clapping wildly as she emerges from the bar, “now you two have kissed and made up, can we go home now?” 

[leclerc-hs]

somebody else - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you find yourself at cross ties with an ex! OR charles just really wants you back. warnings: 18+, smut under the cut!, angst!!!!!!!!!, not proofread word count: ~2.2k author's note: sorry if this is lame?? i was feeling really angsty the other night but then never finished it so i finished it just now. maybe I can continue this or maybe I'll leave it as a one-shot only!!! idk but let me know your thoughts :) xoxo ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE DARKENED CLOUDS swirl ominously above you, intermittently lit by flashes of distant lightning that paints fleeting patterns across the sky. The air is cool and charged with the scent of saltwater as you pull your knees into your chest. 

“Did you ever think we would end up here?” His voice mutters beside you, the waves crashing with a muted sorrow in the background, as if echoing the ache that burned in his chest.

The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and dampness, a bittersweet reminder of your shared moments now slipping away. You turned your head to look at him, tugging the corners of your lips upwards into a weak smile.

The burn in your throat made it hard to speak.

“Jamais.” Never.

“I thought we had more time,” You spoke, your voice fragile.

-

You sit nestled on the plush couch, your favorite book lying forgotten in your lap as you emerge yourself into the soft melodies playing in the background. Charles stands by the vintage record player, carefully selecting another vinyl, his movements graceful and deliberate in the dim glow of the room.

The music fills the space. A jazz tune, perhaps, with its smooth saxophone and rhythmic piano. He turns to you eventually, with a smile that practically melts your heart, before extending a hand towards you as an invitation to dance.

“Aren’t you concerned for your toes?” You joke, slipping the book off your lap and onto the couch.

“Concerned?” His lips tug into a small smirk. “You can break all of my toes, and I’d still want to dance with you.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing. A shy grin forms as your hand slips perfectly into his, fingers intertwining effortlessly.

Outside, the city hums softly with the quiet buzz of evening life, but within the cocoon of warmth and music, time seems to stand still. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He mutters as he presses gentle kisses onto your face, one arm wrapped around your waist tightly. “Toe breaking and all.”

Your head falls back as you release a laugh of pure joy. “Je t’aime.” I love you.

“Je t’aime, mon coeur.” My heart.

-

The mornings always held a special charm for him, especially those rare occasions when he found himself awake before you. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but when it did happen, he cherished it deeply. As he woke to the gentle light filtering through the curtains, he would often find himself captivated by the sight of you sleeping peacefully beside him, almost always cocooned into the side of his body.

There was always something so mesmerizing about watching you in those quiet moments of slumber. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your hair fell onto the pillow, and the soft expression on your face created a montage of serenity and beauty that he could never look away from.

He sometimes would just lay there, propped up on one elbow, just taking in every detail of you. The way your eyelashes fluttered silently, the slight curve of your lips, and the way you would sometimes reach out unconsciously, seeking his warmth even in sleep. It always filled him with need for you.

Today, for instance, was one of those mornings. Charles traced the pads of his fingertips softly along the collarbone that was peeking out of his t-shirt that you always stole from him. He didn’t mind though; it was practically yours.

You stirred awake gently, a smile pulling on your lips as you felt Charles hand trail down your torso and slipping under the t-shirt, his hands instantly trailing along the skin of your stomach.

His hands squeezed your sides gently, before pushing you flat onto your back, so he could slip in between your thighs, half his body pressed on top of you.

He peppered kisses to your neck, up to your cheeks, before meeting you at your lips where you awoke with a full-blown smile. 

“Needy this morning, hm?” Your voice was soft, still full of sleep as you felt him gently rut against your core. There wasn’t much fabric between you both, just his boxers and a pair of cotton panties.

“For you?” You could feel his grin against the crevice of your neck and collarbone where he places open-mouthed kisses, sucking gently. “Always.”

It didn’t take much longer before his cock was slipped inside of you. His boxers strewn somewhere along the bedroom floor that you both shared, and your panties pushed only to the side.

“Feel this, mon amour?” He groans softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin as you let your head fall back into the pillows completely. “It’s just for you.”

It starts out slow and lazy. Until you both just can’t take it anymore and he’s flipping you over, pulling you to your knees. 

“Arch your back for me.” He says, the pace of his hips unrelenting as his fingers grip the sides of your hips. “That’s it, mon amour.” 

You can’t help but moan, your knuckles turning white from the harsh grip you claim on the bedsheets. It’s sogood.

His hands find their way to your hair, fisting it tightly as he pulls you up so that your back is pressed to his chest.

“Please,” You beg, in need of a release.

“How bad do you want it?” He clicks his tongue, his fingers trailing along your neck, pressing gently into your soft skin. “C’mon, work for it.”

You begin feverishly rutting your hips, meeting him in the middle. It doesn’t take much longer before your both sent over the edge of your orgasms, collapsing on top of one another in the warm confines of the bed.

“I think we should stay here for the rest of the day.”

-

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with anger that seemed to swirl around the both of you like a storm. You both stood in the middle of the kitchen, a place that usually consists of shared laughter and comfort, now transformed into a battleground.

“How was I supposed to know that she would be there?” His voice was lethal, the veins in his neck protruding from the clench of his jaw.

You were in complete disarray as your fingers continuously ran through the roots of your hair. It’s as if he was listening but wasn’t really listening.

“It’s not about that!” You half-shout back, your voice dwindling towards the end. You were tired. So tired of this. “It’s the fact that you practically forgot I was even there!”

“You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pick fights over nothing.”

“So now it’s my fault that you practically spent the entire night talking to your ex-girlfriend as if I wasn’t in the room?”

You felt your temper wearing thin. All you needed was an apology. A sign that he didn’t mean to spend half the night talking to his ex-girlfriend.

“I hate when you do this.”

“I’m so done letting you hurt me like this every time we see her around.” You felt your voice crack. 

“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?” His voice was void of any emotion, but the heavy rise and fall of his chest gave way to just how much this was hurting him to hear.

-

“Can you just stay a little longer?” His voice was raw and full of emotion as he stared at you from the archway of the kitchen. You stood only a few feet away with swollen eyes from crying, and a single suitcase by your side.

You could slowly see the unwavering emotions form across Charles’ face as he stood, staring at you. Sadness, hurt, and anger.

You began to shake your head no, but Charles absolutely refused for that to be your response. He took a small step towards you, which had you immediately holding your hand up, begging for him to stop.

“Please,” Your voice shook. “Don’t make this harder.”

“I love you.” He emphasizes. He runs his hands through his hair like he’s in distraught. Because he is. How did it get to this point?

When you couldn’t even say the words back, was Charles’ final undoing. He knew you still did. But he neededto hear you say it. He knew it was selfish. Considering, this was all his doing. His actions.

“You keep hurting me every time we come across her.” You void your sentence of any emotion. Trying your best to hold it together, at least exteriorly. “I can’t be with you when it seems like you want her.”

“I only want you!” He can feel the panic forming in his chest as he sees you make your way to grab the handle of your suitcase.

“It’s too late.” 

-

It’s been seven months since then. Most would say that’s not much, but to Charles it felt like eternity. It would be a lie if you said it didn’t too. But still you moved on. Or at least tried to.

You and Charles regardless of the break-up we’re always still involved in some way. You both knew it was impossible to shut each other out completely. Especially when you both live in the same small city, have the same childhood friends, and live not even a mile away from each other.

So, when you arrive to one of your best friend’s birthday party, hand in hand with another man, you could imagine the burn of nerves that flood your stomach as you spot Charles across the room.

“Mon dieu!” Your friend erupts in a raised voice. “We finally get to meet Andrew!” She pushes the door open widely, allowing room for you and Andrew to step through the threshold.

A short silk dress adorns your body, the perfect shade of blue that embellishes your summer tan. You avoid looking in Charles’ direction as you gather your belongings onto a designated table, where everyone’s belongings also lie. 

You’ve been seeing Andrew for a few weeks, it’s all still relatively new. But he was sweet and caring, and so thoughtful.

You feel your cheeks redden in embarrassment as your friend announces Andrew as ‘your new boyfriend’ because he isn’t your boyfriend. But, you can’t find it in your heart to correct her.

It takes a mere thirty seconds for you to drop your belongings down onto the table, before you turn around to meet the eyes of Charles from across the room. 

It feels as if time has stood still as he sends you a small tug of his lips, unsure of how he should act. It’s not that you haven’t seen each other since the break-up, but he hasn’t ever seen you with another man.

You felt in a complete trance, unable to remove your eyes from Charles, until you feel a hand rest on the small of your back. Andrew.

You break eye contact almost instantly, turning your head to smile up at Andrew. He sends you a quick wink, before bringing his lips down to your ear. “Tu veux un verre?” Do you want a drink?

You nod, a soft smile pulled on your lips as you turn towards the direction of the kitchen, pulling Andrew’s hand in yours.

-

“Is it serious?” His smooth voice elicits a quiet shriek and jump as you hand wash the used wine glasses in the kitchen sink, an eruption of goosebumps forming across your skin.

“Excuse me?” You turn to him. Soapy water dripping from your fingertips before you wiped them with a hand towel nearby. 

“Is it serious?” He repeats, his voice unwavering as he steps closer that you need to crane your neck to look at him.

“I know what you said.” You could feel the anger begin to swirl in you like a storm. “What makes you think you deserve to know?”

For a tiny instant, you swore you saw the smirk on his face waver. But, it was so fast that he pulled it back up again.

“I miss you.” He whispers softly, his hand reaches to touch a strand of fallen hair from your face before he tucks it behind your ear.

“You’re not being fair.”

His face falls to a solemn look, letting only you see the actual hurt that he’s been feeling every day since you walked out that apartment door.

“I want you back, mon amour.” He states. “I’ll risk being unfair if it gives me any chance to get you back.”

Your heart was beating rapidly. It’s everything you’ve wanted to hear. But you can’t do this. Not again. Not to Andrew.

“Charles, please don’t do this. Not here.” 

“I know that you love me.” He states. “I know that you do, and you know that I love you. That I’m in love with you and always will be.” His words begin pouring out of him, like a waterfall. 

“We’re broken.” You shrug your shoulders. “We always were.”

You didn’t give him a chance to speak again before you pushed past the confines of his body and back into the living room where all of your friends and Andrew celebrate.

[wosofutbolfan]

When Somebody Loved Me (Everything Was Beautiful)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

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

Songfic

WC: 17k. Check TW inside.

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

Hi Guys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was raining on the day that you met her.

That was strange. For Barcelona. The rain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe tomorrow niña. There is always tomorrow”.

Well. Turns out dads are clever.

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

“Putellas!! Get back here! Pute-...”

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

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

You didn't know what to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was banned from playing.

The team lost. 

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

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

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

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

Your Alex. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Mi and y/f/n…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t care. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have chosen to showcase your best landscapes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Weeks passed.

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

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

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

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

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

A ghost of the woman she was. 

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

Finally, Word you were alive. 

3 words in fact. “It’ll pass Alexia.”

[sqtorux]

jjk 266 did something to me so here's a megumi drabble along the chapter. sfw, angst to awakening? lmao, gn!reader.

megumi couldn't tell if time was passing or not. he'd been lying here, unmoving, and unfeeling, within the depths of the four armed monster's soul.

the shadows he was so familiar with were now looming over him and weighing him down. is it his own doing? he doesn't think far and quite frankly, couldn't care less.

what was left to fight for? the king of curses was too strong against he, who craved nothing but a normal life with the people he holds close to his heart.

the people he loved.

"what are you thinking about?" that voice. it was the same voice that called on his name so tenderly and whispered affections he didn't think he was deserving of.

"sorry, i was just... zoning out" another voice that sounded a lot like his own. perhaps it was—it had been a long while since he'd even heard his own voice.

megumi glances around, the breeze was cool and the sun was just about to set—reflecting a canvas of gradient hues across the sky.

"i think you've been asleep for too long" he felt your hands slowly lace with his own, fitting into the slots so perfectly as if they'd always belonged there.

"we're waiting— all of us are." megumi finally has the courage to look at your face, the lines and contours slowly blurring, but he can tell it was you. he always could.

"come find us in the future, hm?" as you faded away and the darkness enveloped him again, megumi gets an epiphany.

how could he forget? there are still people out there fighting regardless of their loss and the odds upon odds stacked against them. but if they think there's even a tiny possibility, then what's stopping him from fighting either?

it's anticlimactic, really — the answer he gave himself. he wants to live.

he wants to eat meals that were made out of habit; modest but filling both the soul and his stomach.

he wants to watch the sunlit laundry that were hung out to dry. he had always loved how they smelled like the sun afterwards.

he wants to walk side by side with his best friend without a care in the world, like the kids they are, without having their youth stolen from them.

maybe along the way he also wants to see his sister off; cheering for her and offering her a home she could always return to.

becoming a little greedy, megumi wants to see you beside him for a long long time. doing mundane tasks and just simply living sounds like a dream if it meant getting to do it with you.

suddenly his body doesn't seem so heavy anymore and moved like his own, as they always have. the shadows returned to his command.

fushiguro megumi fights back.

[solbaby7]

Wanting You, Wanting Me

pairing: azriel x reader

based off an anonymous request- got carried away but I tried to stay within the guidelines; this was actually a really cute concept

warnings: angst at first but it gets fluffy towards the end, swearing, jealousy, mutual pining, mentions of nightmares, sleep deprivation, probably some typos

summary: Silent yearning only remains silent for so long when you suspect your crush likes your best friend instead

--

Elaine was like flowers budding in the Spring; new and fresh, full of promise and beauty. She was kind and caring, compassionate and soft-spoken, dainty and slender—all the pretty things that males loved in women.

Or maybe it was just her.

Because you were fairly new and fresh too; just barely in your twenties and full on the idea of life and love and everything in between. Maybe you weren’t as kind, not as nice or welcoming; you didn’t always have the right words and in lou of sounding stupid or making a fool of yourself, you stayed quiet.

Watching; observing, learning the family around you as you navigated your place in it. Everyone already had their role; playing their parts as if they’d been trained their whole lives for it and even Feyre and her sisters had fallen into a steady rhythm after the Cauldron. But with all the new additions, couples pairing up and friendships pre-established a hundred years before you were even a thought—your place there seemed less clear.

Especially since Azriel had started paying such special attention to Elaine and her annoyingly beautiful garden and the plants that seemed to thrive tenfold at the mere sight of her.

You didn't mind at first; the three of you falling into a steady rhythm of hanging out together, taking walks and sharing stories but somewhere along the lines he stopped looking at you when he'd laugh. Envy builds for a woman too kind to deserve it and it makes you feel even worse--masking your distaste with soft smiles that you hoped looked as welcoming as hers.

You can’t even help the turn your thoughts take but no matter how much envy fills you; there’s not one con that presents itself when regarding her.

It becomes subconscious, the way you mimic her; fixing your posture, hands reaching to push back strands of hair and smoothen out the fabric that the soft curve of your stomach. Silently nitpicking parts of you that you’d never considered wrong before but that had to be when everything Elaine had got was so right.

He walks in like you’ve summoned him, steps silent and sure. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You mutter a beat too late, only realizing he was regarding you when you’d finally glanced up over the book in your hands.

You’re acutely aware of his every move, the radiating warmth of his body contrasted by the cool kiss of his shadows sifting through your hair when he leans over the back of the couch. The smell of his soap reaches your nose when he leans in, hazel eyes skimming over the pages you're reading and you thank the good Mother above that you’d gotten past the naughty scene three pages ago; where the good guy who pretends to be bad slides his fingers between the maidens thighs, urging her to be silent as he worked her over through her clothes while being surrounded by a whole camp full of males and a looming threat lingering somewhere in the trees. “Bad dreams again?”

You pray he doesn’t catch the slight uptick of your heart rate, the closeness forcing your body to react without permission and it takes great effort not to tear the delicate pages under the pressure of your fingers alone. “Something like that,” You grit out, reminded of the nightmares that assaulted your slumber; the sight of Elaine and Azriel—kissing. Enough to rip you awake and force you to empty all of your stomach contents; you’d just barely made it to the bathing chambers, hairs sticking to your cheeks and nightgown damp with sweat as you leaned into the toilet.

You still hadn’t been able to keep anything down; stomach too unsettled and brain spiraling enough to distract away any signs of hunger.

“She’s been getting them all week,” Elaine softly adds, fingers busy with her knitting needles and yarn; a new blanket for you to add to the giant collection neatly folded your closet. “—won’t drink the tea I made for it though.”

“Because the tea makes them worse and then I wake up from them with my body still paralyzed,” You’re quick to say, familiar with your best friends tactics in divulging important information to the shadowsinger to ensure you actually did something about it—that you took care of yourself. “I’ll happily keep just the bad dreams.”

Azriel's not even looking at you anymore though, already rounding the couch to sit beside Elaine, ball of yarn rolling between them and you can’t help but stare. “Tell me more about this tea?”

“I make it from the plants in the garden,” She points at the window behind them, pale green yarn still wrapped around her finger. “Camomile and ginseng and usually it helps but she just reacts to it differently.”

Azriel hums and you hate the way the words make you feel; like there was another thing setting you apart from the others and this perfect life that didn’t seem capable enough to hold room for all of your imperfections. You don’t wait to hear anymore, steps light and hands quick to stick your bookmark in place and collect your tea cup before you’re gone and down the hall; tears burning in your waterline.

Because, you were sure that if you had to sit there and watch them a second longer you were going to scream.

Scream at Elaine for being so sweet and gentle; so knowledgeable and helpful and certain that it was you that was the issue and not her stupid herbs grown in her stupid garden. You wanted to scream at Azriel until you were blue in the face, listing off every single thing you've ever done to show that the thing between you was way more than just friends. How he was everything and you know that maybe you weren't perfectly skinny like Elaine was but you'd always found great beauty in things that were different.

You can’t tell if you’re happy or not that no one comes to check on you the whole four hours it takes for you to relax; binging the entirety of a book until you were too focused on someone else's life to focus on your own and only once you'd finished the book in it's entirety were you forced to leave the room in search for the one that followed.

The library is empty when you enter, only a few lights still burned and you’re already murmuring soft words to yourself while you search around for what your looking for, fingers bumping over the slides of books; their engraved titles all unique and beautiful and probably interesting but still not quite right. It takes some time but you’re certain you’ve found it, a few rows higher than you can reach but it’s easy to drag over a chair for assistance. "Come on," You mutter, nose scrunching with strain as the tips of two fingers graze the burgundy spine. You’re prepared to jump and pray the chair doesn’t collapse beneath you when the book simply slides out and floats down to you, cool shadows twirling up the length of your arm as if to stabilize you as you step down. “I didn’t need help,” You grumble without looking at your savior, the weight of the book now in your palm and excitement swirls at the thought of more.

“You never do.”

You don’t mean to be so snappy but the sleep deprivation takes a toll and it was becoming harder to distinguish truth from dream; your brain always stuck on his mouth leaning in for Elaine’s and the anger that ensues is all consuming. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Azriel shrugs, sighing as if he knows how this conversation will end and in no way will he ever come out on top. “I don’t know—just don’t get why you wouldn’t have told me you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Because, Az, what would you have done? Help Elaine make me tea’s? No, thanks.”

Confusion spreads on handsome features, hazel eyes fierce even with his lids lowered. “What does Elaine have to do with any of this? Because she told me?”

The breath you let out is heavy, defeat settling in once you realize the hole you’d been digging yourself and it’s a struggle to heave yourself out and drag the chair back to its original spot but Azriel’s there in seconds. He’s quiet; waiting for an answer as he takes it from your hands. “No,” You concede, all fight leaving when it was a one-sided battle. “She doesn’t have anything to do with it. It’s fine—I’m just tired.”

“Then sleep,” He urges softly. “I’ll stay with you.”

“I can’t.”

You can’t even focus on the words of your page under his stare. You’ve read the first line six times over and you still haven’t fully processed it. The thought of him being nearby as you slept, the thought of his eyes on your body in nothing but a nightgown and your hair free from all its carefully done braids. “Can you tell me what you’ve been dreaming about?”

His brows raise when you suck in a sharp breath, cheeks flinching at the suggestion and you shut the book altogether. “I’d really rather not.”

“What’s so bad you can’t tell me about it?" Azriel's hand covers your own, voice so soft it hurt. "You tell me everything.”

Your heart thumps so hard in your chest you can hear it in your ears, your free fingers fumbling against the other under the table and you can't refrain from the nervous chuckle that pulls free. There's a second where you want to just tell him; to confess your feelings and how much you loved the way he was looking at you but fucking hated how you knew that look wouldn't stay if Elaine walked in. The reminder of her alone makes your body deflate, gaze going far off and Azriel's concern only grows when you stay quiet too long to be normal.

The cool touch of a shadow grazing your cheek pulls you out of it. "I suppose this just isn't worth telling."

It's not the answer he wanted, that much is clear by the frown that tugs on full lips, the wings that tuck in tighter and you want nothing more than to give him everything he'd wanted and more to get his face to stop looking at you like that but before you can say another word, another person enters. "Sorry to interrupt, I was just looking for you.

His eyes instantly go to her, hand pulling away from your own and attitude seeps out when you regard her. "Well, you found me."

Elaine's eyes bounce between you and Azriel as if she could feel the tension in the room that held so thick you could cut it with a knife. Her voice is hesitant when she begins, a steaming pot held in hands covered by thick oven mitts. "I made a new recipe for the tea," You don't even hear the carefully curated list of herbs she rattles off, informing their uses and how well they work together but you can't stop shaking; chest tightening at the way Azriel watches Elaine gracefully flit about the room and you can't stop thinking about how quickly he pulled away his hand. "It's really strong so you can't have too much but the madja said that it would help with the sleeping and the paralysis."

You couldn't of cared less, snatching the kettle from her grasp and in your anger you can’t even hear her gasp, can’t feel the burn of the boiling handle against your palm as you pour a mug so thick it nearly spills over the top. “Thanks, Elaine. Really, I hope it knocks me out for a week.” You don’t stay to take in the worry on Azriel's face or the hurt that laced your friends features. Your book is tight in your grasp and you’re halfway down the hallway when you feel your palm begin to throb.

Your bedroom door shuts with a slam, pure frustration pulsing through your whole being and you can feel it ebbing from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. A sigh pulls when you take an angry sip, it burns your tongue, slightly bitter but it was eased with a little sugar and a teaspoon of honey.

Guilt swells at the kind gesture and your misguided anger; Elaine had only been trying to help, making things to quell the dreams she didn’t even know were centered around her and man you loved but didn't love you back. It weighs on you as you change into your night clothes, smoothening ointment and wrapping thick gauze around your burn; there was no blistering but the angry red mark was sure to remain there for quite some time.

You try to distract yourself, silently sipping as you read your book.

It’s alarming how quickly you relax, the giant mug nearly empty when your book slips between your fingers and thuds to the floor, body slumping into the sitting chair and you don’t even have enough time to drag a blanket over yourself before your eyes flutter shut and sleep takes over.

And this time, you didn’t dream.

There was only peaceful silence and maybe an uncomfortable pressure in your chest that it came and went in waves; too grateful for the relief that settled in your bones to care. It was like you were sinking, body slowly falling into a sea of cushion and comfort and you’d have been willing to stay there forever.

Your brows furrow when a noise pierces through the silence; eyes squinting in the darkness to find the source but the harder you try to make it out, the darker the rooms gets. A hand rubs against your chest, the pressure coming back and this time it’s so hard it makes you cough, eyes clenching shut and it’s like that was the switch to wake you up.

Azriel is leaning over you, hands on your chest and cheeks red with exertion when you cough and cough, soul aching to return to the peace—that silence where there were no dreams. “Why’d you wake me up?”

“Wake you up?” His voice holds no more room for placating to your wants; hands shaking at his sides and it’s then you see the fear. “You didn’t have a pulse. I came to check on you and you were—“ Azriel clears his throat, voice cracking with his clothes disheveled and full lips firm in a straight line as he stood before you, crouching down to meet your eye level. “Tell me right now, what were you dreaming about that was so bad that you were willing to die to stop them.”

Your chest heaves as you take in air, a ringing begins in your ears and you back away; avoiding the words, the conversation—the sight of his mouth on hers. “I can’t.”

“You can and you will."

"Azriel—"

Az groans at your tone, turning his entire body away as if he physically couldn't bear hearing another aversion; another lame excuse as to why you couldn't tell him what was going on when you always did. "Do you not trust me? Is that it?"

“What?”

You'd never seen him so upset, eyes blazing and wings rustling in his frustration as he stood. "I'm just listing shit at this point because all I've done is try to be there for you—me and Elaine, and you just keep pushing us away."

"Oh, please," You snap back, gaining the strength to stand and the ache in your chest only gets worse and you begin to wonder just how long he was on top of you breathing air into your lungs and willing breath to stick with the push of his hands. "If Elaine's around, I might as well just walk right out of the room because that means you'll be otherwise occupied shoving your head up her ass."

"You sound ridiculous." He lets out a gruff laugh, arms crossed over his chest. "Are you jealous or something?"

"It's clear you have feelings for her. I get it—she's perfect and pretty and skinny and obviously you like that sort of thing but don't stand here and pretend you even notice I exist with her there." There's no taking back the words and you don't even care to look into the way his brows furrow at you, words punching at him a mile a minute as a dam breaks and days and weeks and months worth of emotions rage forward with no signs of stopping. "How couldn't I be jealous? When it’s so obvious that you love her and not me.” It feels pathetic to say out loud, hands crossing over yourself as you did your best to remain strong; to get through the feelings even though your skin was on fire and you couldn't stop fidgeting. "That's what my dreams have been about. Why I've been missing sleep and hiding things from you because every time I close my eyes all I can fucking see is you and her."

You don't even realize how much distance you'd been putting between you two, subconsciously searching for a way out when Azriel inevitability let you down easy. "You love me?" Words die on your tongue, feelings laid bare and vulnerabilities left out for his viewing pleasure; eyes like drops of gold boring into you as you gently nod. He sinks onto the edge of your bed, a breathless laugh emitting as scarring fingers traced over the soft fabric of your duvet. "The only reason I started talking to Elaine in the first place is because you and her had gotten so close and I wanted an excuse to be around you."

Your brows furrow, lips parting in confusion and the nerves begin to fade. "No."

Azriel's head nods once, settling into the fell of your room and the little trinkets you'd kept close on the nightstand; pictures neatly framed and resting on books you favored a little more than the others on the shelves. Hand sculpted vases made from blown glass that scattered rainbows across the room when the sun shone through the curtains to feed the bright flowers inside of them. "Yes, but you kept leaving and I thought it was because you weren't interested."

"But, I thought—"

"I think it's safe to say we both were off in our assumptions."

It feels like a dream and not the kind you'd been running away from but the one you'd been sinking and falling into earlier before Azriel had pulled you back. The one that felt like peace and comfort and something like hope begins to brew in your belly when you dare you look him in the eyes. "You like me?"

Azriel's features soften, the fear and worry from before a thing of the past when he stood and walked towards you, shadows kissing at your legs when warm knuckles grazed your cheek. "I love you," He corrects gently, his touch like home and its instinct the way you close the proximity. You can feel his heartbeat on your chest, the strong muscles of his arms itching to be traced and a smile forms at the blush that forms on the tops of his ears under your attention. "—and those smutty little books you've been reading."

His chest is hard when you jokingly smack it, cheeks going hot and eyes darting to the book laid forgotten on the floor. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The lie doesn't deter him and neither does the little gasp that pulls free when he gently forces you to look up at him, hazel eyes trained on your mouth and the tongue that darts out to wet plush lips. "I'll pretend I believe that if you just shut up and let me kiss you."

Maybe reality was better than dreaming.

Because this time, when he leaned down with intent to press his mouth against another’s for a kiss—it was with you.

[ichangedmycornyahhname]

Earth 42!Miles x Reader

The buzzing of the drill was soon drowned out by the shattering glass.

Summary: After a talk with Miles, reader finds herself at the nail salon. She was treating herself, just as he had requested. But that self care day soon turns into much more. Part 1. Here

Warnings: A little angst? Violence | Cursing | Some spice I suppose. | I’m gonna warn y’all now, I do not speak Spanish fluently at all, so if anything is wrong grammatically please correct me. | I’m actually thinking of making this into a mini series? Maybe a part. 3 after this. Also! Open to some title ideas.

Miles kept his promise. He sent her money to get her nails done. Which is why now she sat in her usual salon, her friend Roxanne drilling at her nails. The salon was hidden deep within the city, a little hole in the wall. With New York in shambles, people had to find some sort of way to feel normal. “What design are we doing this time Y/N? Freestyle again?” Y/N shook her head at her pink haired friend, causing her Roxy to smirk. “Oh, I see. What’s the idea then?”

“Was thinking of doing purple and black. Maybe a little green.” Those were Miles signature colors. His prowler costume consisted of different shades of purple and black, and she was sure her friend could come up with something good. “Hm, that’s new. Alright whatever you say.” Roxy gave a fond smile before getting to work. As she did so, Y/N found herself pondering on what to do after getting her nails done. Maybe go get some food, check on a few friends, avoid the crooks on every street. Possibly invite Miles over for a late night rendezvous. She sighed at the thought. She was completely smitten with the guy.

As time went by, and Roxy made quick progress, a low rumble began to stir beneath their feet. Followed by the loud roar of an engine. She traded a look with Roxy, who had a brow raised in suspicion. “You feel that too?” She questioned as the drill buzzed just above Y/Ns nail. “Yeah, what the hell is that?” She replied to the woman with dyed hair. It wasn’t just the two who noticed. Most people within the nail salon glanced around, concerned and confused by the sudden rumbling. The same rumbling that suddenly stopped. “Maybe it’s construction.” Roxy chimed, doing her best to stay optimistic. Then she got right back to work. The drill buzzed, shaving down the black base of the nail. “What’s got you so preppy? You still with that guy?” Y/N flushed at the question, her gaze averting from Roxy’s. “Yeah, we’re still together. He’s a really good guy, just really busy.” She fawned. “That’s good, glad you’re doing well girl. Was getting worried about you after the whole..” Roxy’s voice trailed off, and Y/N took this as a chance to cut in, “I’m fine Rox, he makes me feel happy. I promise.” She gave her a look of confirmation and Roxanne only nodded.

The atmosphere of the salon was pleasant, relaxing. She found herself spacing out, her eyes focusing in on nothing too important while she lightly bopped her head to the music playing in the background. Then the rumbling returned, and much louder this time around. It sounded close, too close for comfort. Following the noise, her eyes landed on an incoming cop car. She could barely make out the sparking metal of the rim where the missing tire was before the car skidded onto the it’s side and tumbled into the big front window of the salon. The crashing of glass filled the shop, along with the blaring siren and tumbling debris. Y/N ducked down at the sight of the crash, pulling Roxy along with her as the broken down car came to a slow stop in the middle of the salon.

Amidst the carnage, she could faintly make out the crumpled figure of a cop within the drivers seat. She had no clue who the guy was. In fact, she had no clue what was even going on. All she knew was the salon was in utter ruins, and the car was spilling oil into a large puddle beneath it. She felt overwhelmed by the sight. By the sirens ringing in her ears, by the smoke rising from the cars engine. “Holy fuck..Rox we gotta get out of here!” She half whispered half shouted. Her hand found Roxy’s, giving it a light tug as she led the shell shocked woman to the wide opening left by the car. “Hurry up girl..! I’m not trying to die here..” She almost hissed. As they made their way past the wrecked car, the smoke from the debris and vehicle flooded their lungs. Roxy began to cough, heavy and intense. This would’ve caught her attention if the incoming villain didn’t. He was large, bulky, and clad in dark angular armor. His aura oozed superiority, while his hardly visible eyes were stuck on the cop unconscious in the car. It would seem the armored man had a target. With this new found knowledge (assumption), she made haste towards the exit, somehow managing to slither out without catching the attention of the man in armor. “Rox..we gotta get out of here man. Before that big dude spots us..” She muttered as they hid behind large pieces of debris. Her eyes took a glance over the fallen pieces of building, the sight of the man approaching the car bringing a sort of relief to her. “What are you talking about Y/N? We can’t leave that cop in there. That guy will kill him..!” Y/Ns jaw slacked, shocked by her friends desire to rush into danger. “The hell are you talking about? We’ll be squashed like bugs if we go in there..” She found Roxy’s arm, and have it a harsh squeeze as she tried to get the woman to stay back. Though it would seem to be pointless. Roxy was already slipping away and sneaking her way back into the building.

Y/Ns hands found her hair. Her fingers tugged at the root as she watched frantically as her friend entered the building once more. “What the hell am I supposed to do. I can’t fight that dude he’s fucking huge..and I’ll be caught if I-“ She paused mid sentence as she came to a realization. And soon she was dialing Miles’ number, hoping that the fool would answer his phone.

“Please pick up..please..fuck.” Click, “Yeah, what’s up ma?”

“Oh thank fuck-“ A breath of relief left her now chapped lips, she had never been so thankful to hear his voice. “Miles, baby, you need to come quick!.. I was getting my nails done and then a cop car bursted through the damn window..now some big armor dude is about to kill him and my friend is trying to be a hero tryna save him..” Her words were quick, breathy, and frantic. And Miles immediately took notice of this. “Im..im at my usual place. Need you to hurry.” She whispered into the phone as she attempted to peek over to the scene that was unfolding.

“I’m on my way now.” Was all she received from her boyfriend. She wanted to respond, truly. But her tongue was tied, and her friend was about to be fighting for her life. Roxy had managed to get the cop out of the car, now dragging him out as quickly as she could, slippery streams of oil leaving a trail behind. “Cmon Rox..” She had long forgotten about her phone, and found herself at a crossroads. Should she help, be the good person she was raised to be? Or should she sit there and do nothing? She gulped, her hand visibly shaking around her phone as she mentally began to hype herself up. She had no clue what the rhino was doing this in the middle of the day, or any clue why he was only after the cop. But what she did know was that her friend was in danger. “Y/N? What’re you about to do?” She heard from the other side of the line. However, she didn’t reply. Instead she rushed over, still crouched down behind rubble as she made her way inside. “Rox! Rox..cmon grab his heavy ass and let’s get the hell out of here.” She cursed out as she found the man’s arm and tugged him away from the car, he was much more heavy than she had anticipated. “Thank you Y/N.” Roxy replied before tugging at the cops other arm. They worked to pull him out as quickly as possible, but the rhino took notice of this. His hard glare turned deadly, and he visibly uttered something inaudible to the panicking woman. “Hurry! Hurry!”

He growled, his head lowering as he changed positions. At first, she wasn’t sure what he was doing, and then she realized. He was charging, at them.

She dropped the cops arm and attempted to pull Roxanne off of the cop, her movements quick and frantic. And she almost budged, but it would seem as though shock had gotten to her, her grip unbreakable. “Roxy cmon!” She screamed, shrill with panic. They were going to die. They were going to die in a broke down nail salon because her friend wanted to save a cop. Y/Ns eyes slammed shut as she waited for the inevitable. Her breath caught in her throat at the incoming impact, but it never came. Instead the crash of another vehicle caused her ears to ring, followed by large hands shaking her out of her fear. “Hey. Hey you okay? Talk to me!” Her eyes shot open, her hands coming up to wrap around the figures wrists. “M- Mil- prowler.” She was absolutely relieved to see him, to hear that robotic filter on his voice as she stared at his mask. “I’m..okay..where’s uhm.” She took a moment, swallowing as she gathered herself. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, and her body was shaking with unease. She swallowed, spit wetting her dry mouth. Quickly she collected herself. “Roxy, where’s Roxy? And that cop?”

“They’re fine, but we gotta go before that dude wakes up. Cmon.” He said as he turned around and pulled her onto his back. She didn’t bother arguing, she didn’t have the energy. Somehow, Miles managed to drag all three of them out of the crash sight and far enough out of harms way. It was a dingy alley way, trash and other none-sense tossed around. Y/N was still resting on his back, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as her arms wrapped around his neck. “Thought I was gonna die back there.” She uttered the words, but he heard them loud and clear. “Nah, I would never let that happen. You know that mami. I called the cops for your friend and that man. You’re coming home with me.” He wasn’t asking, he was telling, and she was perfectly fine with that.

-

Miles slipped into his apartment through the window, and trudged inside. He tossed his metal gauntlet onto the floor, his hands free to lay her onto his bed. The plush mattress underneath her body managing to relax her muscles. Miles didn’t join her in bed immediately. Instead he was packing his suit up along with his gauntlets, before stepping back over. Now in a simple black tank top and sweats. His gaze was soft, solemn even. His hand found a strand of her hair, fiddling with it as he watched her cautiously. “Wanna go clean up? I can start a bath or shower for you..” He asked as he took a seat on the bed beside her.

“Yeah, all this damn dust and sweat is gonna make me look a hot mess.” He gave a small chuckle at her joke, though he wasn’t all to amused by the entire situation. He figured it was best to get her comfortable before talking about anything. “Ight. Cmon then ma.” His hands went under her body, picking her up princess style and bringing her over to the bathroom. “I’ll bring you a towel and wash cloth, just gimme a sec.” He gently set her down, his hand lingering on her arm before he left only to briefly return.

“I left some clothes for you on the counter.” He mentioned before placing a kiss upon her forehead and departing from the restroom. She smiled, thankful for his presence. And soon she hopped in the shower. It was relaxing, the hot water pattering gently across her skin. The feeling of cleanliness as she washed the remainders of the day away.

Eventually, she was hopping out of the shower and putting the clothes he had given her on. It wasn’t anything special. Just a pair of his shorts and a shirt, but it felt special to her. Y/N made her way through Miles (Rio’s) apartment, finding her way into the kitchen to snatch up a few snacks. Thankfully Mrs. Morales was fast asleep in her room, so she went without questioning. Y/N made her way back to Miles’ room, entering and shutting the door behind her. His room was mature, calm colors, basic necessities. The usual stuff. Plus his punching bag that she played with on the occasion. From the windows opening, she could see the moons light shining through. She was a bit surprised to see how dark it had gotten. But, she had no issue with it. Not when she was still alive. She gave Miles a faint smile, “Don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful for a shower.” She chimed jokingly as she set the snacks down onto the bedside table. Then she plopped back down on his bed and wrapped herself up in his blanket. Miles was currently standing in front of his closet, fiddling with a glove from his suit as though he was contemplating something. This caught her attention. Sitting up, she sighed. “So, how exactly did you beat that guy?” She inquired, which caused his eyes to meet hers.

“Threw my motorcycle at him. Knocked him down long enough to get you out.” He said before tossing his glove onto his desk chair and making his way over to the bed. Her jaw was wide at his explanation, surprised at his confession. “Your motorcycle? Are you serious babe? That’s fucking crazy.” He only smirked as his hands intruded the blanket and his arms wrapped firmly around her torso. “I’ll just make another one with Unc.” His weight caused her to fall back on his bed, her head now snug in his pillow. His arms felt comforting around her as his head rested on her chest, his soft breaths managing to calm her down. Her hands found his hair, now fiddling with the ends of his braids. Sure, it wasn’t her first time seeing them, but she certainly thought the style suited him well. “I like them, they’re cute.” She said, which caused him to shift and rest his chin on her chest. He had a satisfied look on his face, one only a victor would wear.

“Knew you did. Mom thought they made me look weird, but eh, I think I like them.”

“Good, they suit you.” She nodded in agreement. They sat in silence for a moment, watching each other with gentle eyes. Her hands scratched lightly at his scalp, managing to make his eyes shut. It would seem that the only time Miles could truly allow himself to feel vulnerable, was around her. After a few minutes of pleasant silence, Miles spoke again, his tone much more serious. “Me dejaste preocupado mami..” He muttered, his words muffled as he burried his face back into her chest. This made her heart ache, her brows knitting with concern. “Mi vida, I’m okay now. You saved me..and my friend. Thank you.” He shook his head. “Next time you run. Call me, I’ll help your little friends. For now though, you’re my main priority.” He proclaimed before sitting up from her chest and leaning up to kiss her lips. “I’m serious Y/N. You run.” He spoke against her lips.

“Okay..” She mumbled, her eyes shut and her hands resting on his jaw. Her lips grazed his, the distance growing tantalizingly close. And finally he pressed back into her, lips meshing into hers as his hands traversed her sides. “So glad you’re okay..” He said in a hushed manner as he poured his love into every movement. His kisses slowly began to lower, finding her neck, then her collar bone, and- she hissed. Wincing beneath him, her body tensed and he froze. His hard stare lingered on her, awaiting a sign to stop or continue. “Sorry, think I got a bruise or something. You can keep going Miles.” He didn’t. Not there.

His hands found her legs, now pulling her thighs apart just enough to get closer to her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the anticipation of what’s to happen making her giddy with excitement. “Relajate, Y/N. You’re tired and need to rest.” He said as he shifted them around, the two of them now lying on their sides wrapped in one another’s arms. This caused her to sigh, a frown on her face as she glared up at him. “Don’t look at me like that. You just went through a lot, don’t want you hurting yourself more.” He said as he tugged the blanket over their forms.

“Next time don’t start it if you’re not gonna finish it Miles.” She scoffed before scooting into his chest, his familiar scent drawing a small grin from her. “Who said I wouldn’t finish it mami? Just letting you get better first.” She could feel him smirk against her head as he rested his face against the crown of it. His words were enough to silence her, along with the sudden depletion of adrenaline. The two snuggled together, the soft blankets paired with the warmth of one another was enough to make them dreary. “Fine..Goodnight, love you Miles.”

“Te amo ma.”

Taglist? - @willowcxmilee @rinouko @chims-kookies @bbybubbles @supremeshrimpy2 @marice23top @korizzybee @otaku-degenarate @movie-enthusiast22 @corpsebridenightamare @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @marsbars09 @dystop4in14nd @ethanlandrysgf69 @mmxinne @brxght-world @rinisfruity14 @repostingmyfavs @sammarvel123 @idkwhatimdoingherehonestlyy @frissy @d4ridi0rsworld @julie03 @sakura-onesan @oh-kurva (Yall I’m never making a taglist again 🙁 props to y’all who do bc this is too much work.)

[figsnpassionfruits]

Turbulences

a/n: ahh where were all these fics when i was 15 and desperately longing for logannnnn?!?!!? anyway- here is another source of logan fics: me <33 word count: 748 tags: logan howlett x fem!reader (can be read as gn!), angst, fluff' warnings: mentions of death, canon-typical violence implications, logan having logan feelings dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

He should have known this would have happened. When sent by the X-Men to go change the past; he should have known. Out of all the years he had been alive, why here? Why did he have to land right here? Logan had spent years trying to forget about this. Trying to forget about you. And here you were being the big spoon, an arm thrown over his neck, a leg of yours intertwined with his within the messy sand-colored bedsheets.

Even though he had just gotten here, he knew exactly where he was. This was the home you both shared together. The place the both of you had spent weeks decorating, eager to call one another each other’s home. He knew it even before he opened his eyes, his enhanced sense of smell dominating his being. When he finally collected his strength to open his eyes, he inhaled deeply. Maybe it was to inhale your scent. Maybe it was an effort to calm himself. Regardless, he did not even know which one it was for.

Once his eyes adjusted to the warm morning sun beaming through the windows, he placed a hand on your wrist, closing his eyes slowly as he did. It hurt him. He did not deserve to get to touch you again. Not after knowing that your fate was inevitable. Logan let out a long and shaky sigh, blinking his eyes open, not allowing a single tear to form. His hand was still on your wrist, his mind yelling at him to let go but his body desperately clinging for the familiar feeling of holding a lover.

After another deep breath and wrestling with his inner thoughts, Logan allowed himself to rub his thumbs along his grip he had on your skin. It was as soft as he remembered. Without letting himself think too much, he pulled your arm up to his face to place a soft kiss on one of your knuckles. Instinctively, he leaned his head down, resting his nose on your hand, inhaling your scent further.

Not realizing it, a tear had fallen onto your skin. Logan watched the salty drop of liquid trickling down your wrist, the sunrays making it shimmer. As a response your wrist twitched, the feeling of the water alerting your body in your deep state of sleep. Not wanting it to disturb you any further, Logan wiped off the remains with the same thumb he had caressed your skin with.

Perhaps seconds passed, perhaps minutes; Logan decided that it was time to face you. There was no running anymore. He was in this room with you at your old home that held the best memories of his life. You were here and you were alive. Either way, he had an objective, a mission, that he was sent to complete. No matter how much he wanted to forget about that, the way he wanted to forget about you, he could not. And it fucking hurt.

Resting his body weight on a forearm, Logan sat up slightly, turning his body to face your sleeping frame.

There you were.

Messy bed hair, slightly apart lips and as beautiful as he remembered.

Reluctantly he put a hand on your cheek, his breath hitching once his skin made contact with yours. This felt so wrong. But this was how it always should have been. Domestic and intimate. Any physical contact reminded him of your death. There were too many answers that he had never gotten. Were you screaming? Was it quick? Did you suffer? Were you scared? All he knew was that he was responsible. If you had never met him, you would not have died.

Lost in his thoughts, Logan ignored the stinging feeling in his eyes, indicating yet another tear close to escaping. He travelled his other hand underneath the sheets, resting it at the small of your waist, caressing the skin while thanking the universe that you were a heavy sleeper.

He did not want to allow himself to kiss you. He did not deserve it.

But you did.

With a glance at the clock hanging across from your bed, Logan fixed his gaze back onto you, taking in every feature of yours. He did not have much time.

Exhaling a breath he did not he was holding, Logan finally closed the distance, delivering a kiss to your lips.

He had to get up and leave now. He knew he did.

But he really did not want to.  

🍯

[gyuuberryy]

ni-ki's guide to survival: how getting lost led to love

pairing: enemy!niki x reader

synopsis: you would’ve never agreed to go on this camping trip with your friends if you had known you would get paired up with your arch nemesis. and getting lost on top of that? with the said bane of your existence? that was definitely not on your agenda.

genre: enemies to lovers, camping au, humour, comfort, little bit of angst

warnings: mentions of panic attack, bugs, kissing

note: they’re all college students btw! i had a really bad riki brainrot and i love e2l so this fic was birthed hehe

word count: 5.3k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the campfire crackled merrily, casting flickering shadows on the faces of your friends huddled around it. laughter danced in the air, punctuated by the occasional chirp of a cricket. 

everyone except you and the boy sprawled on a log opposite you, a scowl permanently etched on his face. nishimura ni-ki. 

camping trips with your friends were supposed to be fun, a chance to unwind, but with your nemesis by your side, it felt more like a forced march into enemy territory.

the animosity has started innocently enough. you and ni-ki, along with your friends, had embarked on a beach trip determined to build the most epic sandcastle the world had ever seen. hours were poured into sculpting elaborate moats, towering turrets, and intricate sand sculptures. victory was within reach, your masterpiece nearing completion, when disaster struck. a rogue wave, rolled in, obliterating your creation in a single, foamy swipe.

grief turned to rage, and you, fueled by a sugar crash from a previously consumed ice cream cone, pointed the finger of blame at ni-ki. you claimed he'd jinxed the project with his "terrible sandcastle feng shui." ni-ki, ever the provocateur, countered that your "overly ambitious moat design" was structurally unsound. the blame game escalated, escalating into a full-blown sand throwing fight that left everyone covered in a gritty mix of sand and saltwater.

two years later, the incident remained a running joke within your friend group. the mere mention of "sandcastle feng shui" could send you both into a fit of giggles (or, depending on the day, simmering resentment which happened to be today). 

a mischievous grin spread across sunoo's face, the self-proclaimed "king of fun." "alright everyone, time for the foraging challenge!" he announced, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. "i've paired you all up to go gather ingredients for our stew!"

a collective groan arose, except from sunoo and heeseung, who were already whispering excitedly about wild herbs. the paper crackled in sunoo's hands as he unfolded it dramatically.

you perked up, eager to escape the suffocating tension between you and ni-ki. maybe a solo scavenging mission wouldn't be so bad. but as sunoo started assigning pairs, your stomach lurched.

"since we have an even number, the last team will be..." sunoo scanned the group, his eyes landing on you and ni-ki. a mischievous glint sparked in them. "...together."

a collective gasp arose from your friends, a mix of amusement and pity for your predicament. ni-ki, however, didn't miss a beat. he shot you a smug smirk, his eyes gleaming with a challenge.

"great," you muttered, sarcasm dripping from your voice. "just what i always wanted, a foraging partner with the survival instincts of a goldfish."

ni-ki scoffed. "says the one who gets lost in a grocery store."

memories of that disastrous shopping trip with your mom flooded your mind. you gritted your teeth.

"at least i won't accidentally set the forest on fire trying to light a campfire," you retorted, referencing a camping trip gone slightly wrong from a year back.

ni-ki's smirk faltered for a split second, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features before returning full force. "unlike you, i actually know how to tell an edible plant from a poisonous one."

"oh please, spare me the mr. nature act," you shot back, standing up and grabbing your backpack. "let's just get this over with. before you scare away all the edible plants with your bad attitude."

ni-ki rose from his log with a mocking bow. "after you, princess."

you rolled your eyes, the familiar bickering a bitter comfort in this unwelcome alliance. as you walked past your friends, you heard sunghoon mutter under his breath, "may the odds be ever in your favour." you shot him a glare, wishing for nothing more than to prove him wrong. 

the forest stretched out before you, promising a foraging adventure filled with snarky remarks, petty competition, and maybe, just maybe, a grudging respect for your unlikely partner.

the trail wound deeper into the woods, dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves overhead. the air grew thick with unspoken words, the silence punctuated only by the crunch of twigs underfoot and the occasional chirp of a bird.

"shouldn't you be skipping ahead, searching for your precious berries?" you finally snapped, unable to bear the awkward tension any longer.

"only if you promise not to poison yourself with the first wild mushroom you find, pipsqueak," ni-ki retorted, a playful glint in his eyes.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "at least i can tell the difference between food and foliage."

just then, you skidded to a halt, hand flying up to point. "look!"

ni-ki nearly bumped into you, surprised by your sudden stop. he followed your gaze and spotted a fawn grazing a few metres off the trail. its large, innocent eyes looked back at them curiously.

a genuine smile, devoid of their usual antagonism, softened ni-ki’s features. "aww, isn't that cute?"

"hold that thought," you whispered, excitement bubbling in your chest. you fumbled with your phone, eager to capture the adorable creature on camera.

ni-ki chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "don't take all day. we're not exactly bffs on a nature walk here."

you stuck your tongue out at him playfully, focusing on getting the perfect shot. suddenly, a bloodcurdling shriek tore from your throat.

ni-ki whipped around, heart hammering in his chest. he saw you flailing your arms wildly, phone clattering to the ground. without a second thought, he sprinted towards you, fear momentarily overriding his usual animosity.

"what happened?" he gasped, skidding to a halt beside you.

"b-bug!" you stammered, pointing at a nearby leaf. "giant, horrible bug!"

ni-ki followed your shaky finger and let out a snort of laughter. perched on the leaf was a large beetle, no doubt intimidating to someone with a bug phobia, but far from the monstrous nightmare you'd made it out to be.

"seriously, that's it?" he doubled over, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "you screamed like a banshee over a little beetle?"

you glared at him, cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and lingering fear. "it was huge! and it tried to bite me!"

ignoring your protests, ni-ki sauntered over to the leaf, his amusement evident. he poked the beetle with a stick, earning a disgruntled hiss in response.

suddenly, his laughter died in his throat. the seemingly harmless beetle, disturbed by his prodding, lunged at him with surprising speed. he yelped, leaping back with a comical yelp, tripping spectacularly over a protruding root in the process.

the force of his fall sent him tumbling backwards, straight into you. with a startled cry, you lost your footing and the two of you went careening down a steep slope, a tangled mess of limbs and flying leaves.

the world became a blur of green and brown before you landed with a thud in a small clearing at the bottom. you groaned, blinking away spots as you sat up, taking stock of your surroundings. ni-ki lay sprawled a few feet away, groaning dramatically.

"well, this is just great," you muttered, brushing dirt off your clothes. you glanced at ni-ki, a flicker of amusement tugging at the corners of your lips despite the throbbing pain in your arm.

he sat up slowly, sheepish grin replacing his earlier smirk. "looks like we both owe that little beetle an apology, huh?"

the amusement in your eyes quickly morphed into pure exasperation as reality settled into you. you had no clue where you were. 

"are you kidding me, nishimura?!" you suddenly yelled, throwing your hands up in the air. "you tripped us both over a bug! how clumsy can you possibly get?"

said boy winced at your outburst, the playful glint in his eyes fading. "hey, it wasn't exactly graceful," he mumbled, dusting himself off. "but at least we're not hurt, right?"

"not hurt? we just tumbled down a freaking hill! and for what? because you couldn't resist poking a bug with a stick?"

"alright, alright," he placatingly raised his hands. "let's just calm down. the good news is, i can recognise this part of the woods. we should be able to find our way back to the trail pretty easily."

you eyed him sceptically. "how can you possibly be sure? this whole forest looks the same!"

he puffed out his chest, a hint of his usual arrogance returning. "trust me, pipsqueak. i have a good sense of direction. just follow me."

you gritted your teeth, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. given the choice, you wouldn't have trusted a lost puppy to lead you back, let alone your nemesis with a questionable sense of direction. however, with no other options, you reluctantly trailed behind him.

minutes turned into what felt like hours. the scenery seemed to repeat itself endlessly, a maze of identical trees and sun-dappled paths. panic started to gnaw at your insides.

"nishimura," you said through gritted teeth, "are we sure we're not going in circles?"

he stopped abruptly, a frown etching his face. he pulled out his phone, his expression darkening as he stared at the screen. "damn it. no signal."

your blood ran cold. "what do you mean no signal?"

"there's no cell reception out here," he admitted sheepishly. "i guess i was wrong about knowing the way back."

you stared at him, incredulous. "you got us lost, and now we can't even call for help? you are the most irresponsible person i've ever met!"

he held up his hands defensively. "whoa, hey! it was an accident! we'll figure something out, okay? just calm down."

but calm was the last thing you felt. lost, angry, and scared, you glared at ni-ki, a fierce determination replacing the fear. "we will figure this out," you declared, voice shaking with repressed anger. "but for now, shut up and follow me. maybe i have a better sense of direction than you think."

the forest floor crunched under your feet as you marched ahead, a newfound resolve hardening your features. gone was the bickering banter, replaced by a tense silence punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. ni-ki followed close behind, a sheepish silence replacing his usual bravado.

you scanned the surroundings, searching for any landmark, any sign that might lead you back to the familiar trail. the dense foliage seemed to mock your efforts, the towering trees offering no clues in their uniformity. doubt gnawed at the edges of your determination, but the thought of relying on ni-ki was far worse.

"we need to find higher ground," you finally muttered, remembering a survival tip you'd once read. "maybe we can get a better view from up there."

ni-ki nodded curtly, his earlier arrogance replaced by a hint of worry. together, you pushed through the undergrowth, searching for any sign of an incline. after what felt like an eternity, you stumbled upon a rocky outcrop, its jagged surface a stark contrast to the smooth earth around it.

scrambling up the rocks, you emerged onto a small, uneven plateau. taking a deep breath, you scanned the horizon, hoping for a glimpse of the familiar smoke plume rising from the campsite. but all you saw was a seemingly endless expanse of green, the trees blurring together in a dizzying kaleidoscope.

disappointment crashed over you, heavy and suffocating. you slumped down onto a smooth rock, the anger slowly draining away, leaving behind a cold dread. lost, with no way to contact anyone, a shiver ran down your spine despite the warm afternoon sun.

"great," you muttered, voice devoid of its earlier fire. "just brilliant."

a moment of heavy silence passed before ni-ki spoke, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. "look, i messed up, okay? i should have paid more attention, and i shouldn't have been so cocky."

you didn't respond, staring blankly at the endless sea of trees.

he continued, his voice softer now. "but freaking out isn't going to help us. we need to work together on this."

he was right, of course. but the idea of trusting him after his colossal blunder left a bitter taste in your mouth. yet, there were no other options.

with a sigh, you finally met his gaze. "fine," you conceded grudgingly. "but if we ever get out of this, i'm never letting you live this down."

a flicker of a smile played on his lips, a hint of his usual defiance returning. "deal. now, how about we put our survival skills to the test, pipsqueak? together."

the animosity was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. but in the face of you predicament, a fragile truce had been formed. you weren't friends, not by a long shot. but for now, you were stuck with each other, and survival depended on a begrudging cooperation.

as the golden light of the afternoon began to fade, long shadows stretched across the forest floor, deepening the gloom beneath the dense canopy. the chirping of birds had been replaced by the eerie calls of nocturnal creatures, sending shivers down your spine.

the initial anger you felt towards ni-ki had morphed into a gnawing fear. the realisation that you were truly lost, with no way to contact anyone, settled in your stomach like a lead weight.

your breaths came in ragged gasps, the realisation of your situation finally hitting you with full force.

tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. a choked sob escaped your lips, quickly escalating into a full-blown panic attack. hyperventilating, you clutched your chest, the world seeming to shrink around you.

suddenly, a hand landed gently on your shoulder. you flinched, expecting another snarky remark from ni-ki. but instead, his voice was soft, laced with concern.

"hey, hey," he soothed, his hand moving to wipe away a stray tear that traced its way down your cheek. "it's okay. we'll be alright."

his touch, surprisingly gentle, sent a jolt through you. you were so used to your constant sparring that this sudden tenderness was completely disarming.

"we just need to calm down," he continued, his voice low and calming. "we can't think clearly if you're panicking. look at me."

hesitantly, you met his gaze. his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now filled with a genuine concern you hadn't seen before.

"we'll find our way back," he promised, his voice firm but reassuring. "the sun will rise again in the morning, and with daylight, everything will seem clearer. we'll figure out a plan then."

his words, surprisingly, had a calming effect. you took a deep, shaky breath, forcing yourself to focus on the rhythm of your inhalations and exhalations. slowly, the panic began to recede, leaving you drained but a little hopeful.

together, you searched for a suitable spot. you found it nestled under the sprawling branches of an ancient oak, its thick trunk offering a sense of security. the ground beneath it was clear of debris, providing a relatively comfortable place to sit.

ni-ki helped you gather fallen leaves and twigs, creating a makeshift cushion. you settled onto it, your body trembling slightly despite the warmth of the setting sun.

he sat down beside you, a respectful distance separating your bodies. the air crackled with an awkward silence, a stark contrast to your earlier bickering.

"thank you," you finally whispered, surprised by the words leaving your lips.

he offered a small smile. "for what?"

"for...not being a jerk," you mumbled, embarrassed.

he chuckled softly, a sound devoid of mockery. "seems like we both have to learn to cooperate sometimes, pipsqueak."

you couldn't help but let out a weak smile, a small flicker of warmth returning to your chest. maybe, just maybe, there was a sliver of humanity beneath ni-ki's cocky exterior. as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, plunging the forest into darkness, you leaned back against the rough bark of the oak, a strange sense of calm washing over you. 

you weren't friends, not by a long shot. but for now, in the face of the unknown, you had each other. and perhaps, just perhaps, this forced cooperation might lead to something more, something you weren't quite ready to name.

the forest floor was a tapestry of inky black shadows under the cloak of night. the initial panic had subsided, replaced by a gnawing hunger that rumbled in your stomach. you glanced at the pile of foraged mushrooms and roots nestled beside you, a meagre dinner at best.

"so," ni-ki drawled, his voice barely a whisper in the stillness. "any idea how to build a fire with those twigs?"

you scoffed. "as if you could tell a pinecone from a pile of leaves."

he shot you a mock glare. "says the one who screamed at a beetle."

you swatted his arm playfully, surprised at the almost friendly gesture. "alright, alright. i may have overreacted a bit."

a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. "a bit? pip squeak, you practically launched yourself into orbit."

despite the teasing, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. you fumbled with the meagre tinder you'd gathered, frustration building. just as you were about to give up, a gentle hand reached for yours.

"here," he murmured, taking the twigs from your grasp. "let me show you."

with surprising dexterity, he built a small, precarious structure of leaves and twigs. you watched in fascination as he coaxed a spark from a flint and steel you hadn't even noticed him carrying. soon, a tiny flame flickered to life, growing steadily into a small but comforting fire.

a sense of peace, however fragile, settled between you as you roasted the meagre mushrooms and roots over the flames. the silence wasn't antagonistic anymore, filled instead with the crackling fire and the occasional chirping of crickets.

"so," you started hesitantly, "what made you decide to learn survival skills?"

he shrugged, poking a particularly stubborn mushroom with a stick. "always good to be prepared, you know? never know when you might end up stranded in the middle of nowhere with a drama queen for company."

you threw a playful punch at his arm, the sting of your earlier animosity fading. "hey, at least i don't trip over bugs."

he chuckled, the sound surprisingly warm. "touché, pipsqueak."

as you ate your dinner, you found yourself stealing glances at him. in the flickering firelight, his face seemed softer, less arrogant. you realised with a jolt that his presence, although unexpected, wasn't actually that bad. maybe this forced cooperation was revealing a side of ni-ki you hadn't seen before.

the night wore on, the stars twinkling coldly above. the fire had long since died, leaving behind a fading warmth that couldn't compete with the growing chill. you shifted uncomfortably, the hard ground digging into your back. a shiver wracked your body, the thin jacket doing little to ward off the creeping cold.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw ni-ki shift too, his shoulders slumped against the tree. he let out a barely audible sigh, his breath misting in the cool air.

neither of you spoke, but a silent understanding hung in the air. you were both miserable, the bitter taste of rivalry a distant memory compared to the immediate need for warmth.

with a hesitant movement, you inched closer to the tree trunk, hoping to find a slightly more comfortable position. almost imperceptibly, ni-ki did the same. your shoulders brushed, a jolt of surprise shooting through you. he didn't move away, and after a moment, you leaned in slightly, seeking a sliver of shared warmth.

his arm was close now, separated by only the thin layer of your jacket. you stole a glance at him, expecting a sarcastic remark or a playful jab. but his eyes were closed, his face etched with fatigue.

hesitantly, you reached out, stopping just before your hand touched his arm. he stirred slightly, a low murmur escaping his lips. taking a deep breath, you rested your hand lightly against the worn fabric of his jacket, just below his elbow.

he didn't flinch. instead, he seemed to relax a fraction more, his arm moving ever so slightly to brush against yours.

in the silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl, you found a strange comfort. maybe it was the shared misery of the situation, maybe it was the unexpected friendly(?) atmosphere that had sprung up between you. whatever it was, the tension had melted away, replaced by a fragile sense of trust.

sleep claimed you slowly, the warmth of your shared body heat a welcome haven against the encroaching chill. you didn't fall asleep with the intention of being close, but in the quiet intimacy of the night, you found a solace you hadn't expected. as you drifted off, a single thought flickered through your mind: maybe this forced adventure wouldn't be so bad after all.

the first sliver of sunlight, faint and tentative, peeked through the dense canopy, painting delicate stripes across ni-ki's eyelids. he stirred, a low groan escaping his lips as the ache in his back made itself known. he cracked one eye open, then the other, blinking against the sudden brightness.

his breath hitched. you were nestled against him, your head resting on his chest. your arms were wrapped tightly around him, one hand burrowed into the thin fabric of his shirt. his chin rested on the crown of your head, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

he had absolutely no memory of this happening. had you gotten cold in the night and sought his warmth instinctively? the thought sent a warmth of its own blooming in his chest, a warmth at odds with the chill of the morning air. he was utterly captivated. you looked peaceful, your normally sharp features softened in sleep, a light dusting of pink staining your cheeks.

just as he was about to lose himself in the unexpected sight, your eyes fluttered open. they met his gaze, and a slow, mischievous smile spread across your face.

"good morning, sleepyhead," you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

ni-ki's cheeks flushed crimson. "m-morning," he stammered, his voice rough from disuse. he tried to disentangle himself from your hold, feeling ridiculously flustered by your closeness.

"nope," you declared playfully, tightening your grip. "this is actually really comfortable. don't move."

he froze, his cheeks burning hotter than ever. his mind raced, torn between wanting to maintain this unexpected closeness and wanting to bolt. a small chuckle escaped your lips, the sound vibrating against his chest.

"relax, drama king," you said, your voice soft. "we're not exactly cuddling in a meadow filled with daisies."

he couldn't help but let out a small laugh himself. the tension started to ease, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the rising sun. slowly, he re-wrapped his arm around you, drawing you closer.

"fine," he conceded, feigning annoyance. "but don't think this changes anything, pipsqueak."

you threw your head back and laughed, a bright, genuine sound that echoed through the silent forest. "of course not, ni-ki," you replied, your voice playful. "we're still enemies, remember?"

"enemies who share a surprisingly comfortable tree," he countered, his gaze flickering to the way your hand instinctively rested on his arm.

"so," you said after a moment of comfortable silence, "how do you propose we get ourselves out of this mess?"

the playful mood evaporated as the reality of their situation came flooding back. he cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. "we need to find a landmark, something we remember from the trail. maybe a creek, or a distinctive rock formation. then we can work our way back from there."

you hummed in agreement, your head nuzzling deeper into his chest. "alright, well, let's not get up just yet. it's still pretty cold out here."

a small smile tugged at ni-ki's lips. this unexpected closeness, born out of necessity, felt strangely…nice. he wasn't sure what the future held, or if this forced truce would last beyond getting back to camp, but for now, in the quiet intimacy of the morning, he wouldn't trade this for anything. "yeah," he agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the rising sun. "let's stay here just a little while longer."

the forest around you both remained cloaked in a pre-dawn twilight, but the horizon was ablaze with the promise of a new day. streaks of fiery orange and vibrant pink bled into the inky blue sky, painting a breathtaking canvas above the silent trees. you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp of awe, the discomfort of the hard ground momentarily forgotten.

ni-ki glanced down at you, his gaze lingering on the way your eyes sparkled in the soft light. "beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

you nodded, mesmerised by the vibrant display of colours. "it's incredible," you breathed.

a comfortable silence settled between you, the only sounds the gentle rustle of leaves and the chirping of a few early birds. despite the awkwardness of your situation, a strange sense of peace washed over you. ni-ki, with his arm still loosely wrapped around you, seemed less arrogant in the morning light, a hint of vulnerability softening his features.

as the sun climbed higher, painting the leaves in a warm golden glow, you tore your gaze away from the sky. "alright," you announced, a newfound determination in your voice. "let's get serious about finding our way back."

ni-ki mirrored your seriousness. "right. we need to focus." he sat up straight, his gaze scanning the surrounding area. "do you remember anything about the trail? a specific tree, maybe, or a turn-off?"

you wracked your brain, a memory flickering to life. "there was a large, twisted oak tree on the right side of the trail, just before a steep downhill slope. maybe if we can find that..."

"bingo!" ni-ki exclaimed, a grin splitting his face. "i remember that tree too! it was kind of gnarled and had these weird, knobbly branches."

relief flooded your chest. "okay, so let's head east. the sun should be rising in the east, right?"

ni-ki nodded, pulling out the compass he'd managed to find tucked away in a pocket of his backpack. "yeah, the sun should be roughly in the east at this time." he consulted the compass for a moment, then pointed in a direction. "alright, this way."

together, you rose to your feet, your muscles protesting slightly after a night spent on the cold ground. but the prospect of finding your way back to your friends fuelled your movements. you followed the direction ni-ki indicated, carefully navigating the trees, your eyes peeled for any sign of the twisted oak.

the forest seemed less menacing in the bright morning light. you pointed out landmarks – a fallen log, a clump of brightly coloured mushrooms – hoping they might jog ni-ki's memory. he, in turn, shared his knowledge of edible plants and tracking techniques, a surprising wellspring of information hidden beneath his usual cocky exterior.

after what felt like an eternity, your heart leaped into your throat. there, standing defiant against the backdrop of younger trees, was the twisted oak you remembered. you let out a whoop of joy, a sound that echoed through the silent trees.

ni-ki's face mirrored your elation, a genuine smile gracing his features.

relief and a strange sense of accomplishment washed over you. you had faced your fear, survived the night, and most importantly, worked together. maybe, just maybe, this experience would change your dynamic with ni-ki, adding a layer of respect and perhaps a touch of something more.

the familiar path leading back to the campsite emerged from the trees, a beacon of hope and relief. a surge of exhilaration coursed through you. you had made it! without thinking, you spun towards ni-ki, a wide grin splitting your face.

"we did it!" you exclaimed, reaching out impulsively. your fingers grazed his cheek, sending a jolt through you. fuelled by the adrenaline of the moment, and perhaps the lingering intimacy of the night, you leaned in further, your lips brushing against his in a sudden, unexpected kiss.

the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. time slowed, the sound of the forest fading away. but the kiss was short-lived. ni-ki froze, his eyes widening in surprise. he gently pushed you away, his breath hitching.

"whoa," he stammered, his voice laced with confusion. "what was that?"

you stumbled back, cheeks burning with embarrassment. your mind raced, replaying the past few seconds in a humiliating loop. what had you just done? the audacity of your own actions left you speechless.

"i-i..." you stammered, searching for an explanation that wouldn't sound completely insane. "i'm just...so relieved we're back. thank you for helping me, ni-ki." the words sounded lame even to your own ears.

but before you could retreat any further, ni-ki surprised you again. his hand shot out, grabbing you firmly by the waist and pulling you back towards him. this time, there was no hesitation in his eyes. he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant.

you melted against him, all thoughts of embarrassment melting away in the heat of the moment. you responded instinctively, your arms wrapping around his neck as you deepened the kiss. the forest around you faded away, the only sound the frantic thudding of your own heart.

finally, ni-ki pulled away, his breath ragged. his eyes, usually so sharp and playful, were now a warm brown, flecked with gold in the morning sunlight. a slow smile spread across his face, a genuine, unguarded smile that sent a flutter to your stomach.

"wow," he breathed, his voice husky. "that was..." he trailed off, searching for the right words.

you swallowed, your own voice barely a whisper. "unexpected?"

he chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "unexpected is definitely one word for it." he paused, his gaze holding yours. "but not unwelcome."

the sound of distant shouts jolted you both back to reality. a chorus of voices, laced with worry and relief, echoed through the trees. you pulled away from ni-ki, suddenly acutely aware of your dishevelled state and the way his lips tingled where yours had been.

"there you two are!" heeseung's voice cut through the trees as he emerged from the path, followed by your other friends. relief washed over their faces, quickly replaced by a flurry of questions and concerned chatter.

"we were starting to think you got eaten by a bear!" sunoo exclaimed, his eyes wide.

you launched into a rapid-fire explanation of your ordeal, leaving out the very recent, and frankly, earth-shattering development with ni-ki. your friends listened intently, bombarding you with questions about the night and how you managed to find your way back.

through it all, you were hyper aware of ni-ki standing beside you. he chimed in occasionally, his voice oddly subdued, and you could steal glances at him, catching the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

then, as you finished your story, jake nudged you playfully. "wow, you guys must have been really scared out there all night. scared enough to, i don't know, eat each other's faces off?"

a collective gasp went up from your friends, their eyes darting between you and ni-ki. your cheeks burned crimson. "what? no!" you sputtered, flustered.

ni-ki chuckled, a low sound that sent shivers down your spine. "yeah, jake," he drawled, his voice teasing. "luckily for us, bears were the only thing on the menu last night."

his playful jab sent another wave of heat flooding your face. you stole a glance at him, and your breath caught in your throat. he was looking at you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, but there was something else there too, something warm and unguarded that made your heart skip a beat.

you looked away quickly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. maybe this unexpected turn of events wasn't so bad after all.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 15 || The New Information

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, a bit of angst, and fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.2k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——"PLEASE GO AWAY," YOU SIGHED desperately in response to the man behind you as if your words would make him disappear.

That laugh of his you once found pleasant but now find annoying is heard. "Relax, sweets. I'm not here to bother you." Gojo hums.

You don't turn around to face him just yet, "Is Shoko here?"

"Nope." He replies simply.

Your brows furrow, "Then how'd you get in?"

"You should really check your text messages, love."

There's a pang in your chest at the sound of that specific pet name. "Don't call me that." You say through slightly gritted teeth.

Gojo scoffs, "Why?"

"Cause' you don't mean it." You explain simply, "You're just saying shit just to say it and it's baseless, it's fake."

"It's not, actually." He argues.

"Whatever. Why are you here?"

He diverts, "Was that Choso I just saw?"

"None of your business." You tell him. "Why are you here?"

"It actually is my business since you wouldn't even know the guy without me," Gojo argues.

You scoff, annoyance is stirring within you. "I might've."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," You whisper, your voice solemn. "I might've even had a chance with him..."

"You wanted one?" He scoffs again, "Seriously?"

"Yes Gojo, yes I did."

"Well he's still on the list so you can-"

"No, I can't." You cut off, "I can't get with him Gojo, you know that."

"What's stopping you from getting with him?" He asks in a confused manner.

You think you lose it after he asks such a stupid question. You slowly turn around to face the man and see him standing in front of your room, resting against the doorframe.

"Don't ask me stupid questions like that. Why are you here?" You voice out sternly.

It's clear that you're both tired and upset and Gojo even notices the way you're leaning back against the door to hold yourself up.

He raises an eyebrow, "Did you and him just..." Both of his eyebrows then raise as he makes his own assumptions. "Damn, three in one day? Are you becoming a whore?" Gojo gasps dramatically.

Your face twists up and you scowl, "What?"

"I mean, first you sucked Suguru off in his car, then you went and got pounded by Mr. Fushiguro, and then you somehow made time to sleep with Choso as well?" He assumes, "Shit, I'm impressed."

"What the hell? No, that's not what happened."

"So... why're your legs shaking so much?" Gojo asks with a concerned tilt of his head.

You glance down at yourself and then scoff. "Mr. Fushiguro has a big dick, that's why."

"Uhuh..." Gojo hums, unamused.

You then look back up to him. "And how did you know about me and Suguru...?"

"He told me."

"Of course he did."

Gojo shakes his head, "Y'know, if I keep paying you for every time you sleep with him, I'm gonna go broke."

"Not my problem."

"But it literally is."

"Where do you get all this money from anyways?"

"I have my sources." Gojo shrugs.

You blink. "Okay... Well, you agreed to pay me, so-"

"I didn't agree to you becoming a whore." Gojo claims. You can tell there's something about the whole thing that's bothering him.

"That's what I've been from the start though," You snap back, "Isn't it?"

He pauses. Those blue eyes of his simply stare at you from across the room and you notice you've got him stuck.

After a moment of thought, he speaks again. "Maybe. But the list is different..." Gojo says.

You roll your eyes, "How?"

"You're only supposed to fuck someone and get paid once."

"If that's the case, why'd you agree on allowing me to fuck someone and get paid more than once?" You ask with an innocent tilt of your head.

There's a vein popping out along the man's jawline and his eyes are low, "Cause' I didn't think you'd turn Suguru into your little fuck buddy."

"It was his idea, y'know." You blurt out. "He's the one who suggested the whole thing."

"So?" Gojo blinks, "You're the one who keeps meeting up with him."

"I need the money." You shrug.

"Is that the only reason you keep hooking up with him?" Gojo questions, chuckling a little. His distaste is obvious and written all over his face, "Cause' you need the money??"

"Yeah." You hum.

"Liar."

"What other reason would I have?"

"You're doing it to piss me off."

You laugh at his words, finding true amusement in the way he thinks everything is about him. "Oh please. I'm sleeping with Suguru because he fucks me well and I'm getting paid for it."

Gojo shrugs, "I could do the same thing."

"Yeah, but I don't like you." You tell him for what feels like the millionth time. "Even thinking about sleeping with you again makes me wanna throw up."

His face twists up in disbelief, "Bullshit."

"It's not."

"Nobody on that list, including Suguru, can fuck you better than me."

You can't help but laugh at the man again, "Mr. Fuhsiguro just did."

"Oh really?" Gojo scoffs.

"Yeah. His dick's bigger than yours too."

"Think I care?"

"Wouldn't be standin' here right now if you didn't."

"I'm actually only here to drop that off," Gojo tells you as he nods his chin toward the nearby counter.

You glance over and spot a few racks of cash designated for you. A pleased hum leaves you before you look back over to Gojo.

An eyebrow is raised at him, "Well, you dropped it off. Shouldn't you be on your way out now?"

"I should but..." Gojo suddenly pulls something out from behind his back. It's the journal you'd been writing in. "We've gotta talk about the stupidness behind writing down the details of the list in this journal of yours." He hums.

Your eyes go wide, "What the hell? Did you go rummaging through my room??"

"Uh, no. Someone left it sitting on their nightstand."

"You'd have to look into my room to see that..."

"I saw you changed your room around and took a peek," Gojo tells you honestly as if it's no big deal.

You don't know why but the fact that he even recognized the change in your bedroom stuck you oddly. Did you like the fact that he noticed? Or did it piss you off that he looked in there to begin with? Perhaps it was a bit of both...

"Okay, stalker much?" You say with an unamused laugh. You then begin to steadily make your way toward the man, your eyes locking onto the journal held in his hands. "Also, I need that back."

Gojo laughs at you and waves the item around, "You need this back? What for? At this point, it's like you're asking for someone to find it and figure everything out."

You lean against the nearby counter and halt yourself, "I-I'm not... I just wanted to keep everything organized."

"This is by far the dumbest way to do so." He comments, pushing himself off the wall and looking down at the journal.

Gojo makes his way over to you, his tall frame standing right in front of you. Those blue eyes of his are down on you, a taunting glint evident within his gaze.

You glare up at him, annoyed by every little thing about him-- his presence, his words, his voice, his stupidly handsome face, that attractive ass smirk he has as he stares at you, and the way his closeness makes you feel all weird inside.

"Just give me the journal and leave. Please?" You request with a sigh.

Gojo puts on this little pout to mock you, "How about no?"

"I thought you said you weren't here to bother me, this is bothering me." You huff.

He chuckles, "Sweets, I'm pretty sure everything I do bothers you." He then leans down to your face, "I bother you."

Your glare is continuous, "You do."

"Exactly so, that statement I made earlier was uh... what was it you said? Oh yeah, baseless." Gojo recalls.

The smirk he has on his face fades away and he leans up from your face. He then holds the journal up, "I'll be keeping this, 'kay?"

Your brows furrow and you instantly shoot a hand up to take the item from him. Your attempt fails as the man shoots his arm further up, extending it and making the journal out of your reach. A groan leaves you before you push up on your toes and continue to reach for it.

Gojo's smirk returns within seconds as he watches you struggle. The man then draws his arm back and you push yourself forward, nearly grabbing ahold of the journal.

Sadly, instead of grabbing it, your wobbly legs only cause you to fumble right into Gojo's chest and knock the two of you over and onto the floor with a thud.

You both groan in unison as you land on top of him, your face smushed against his chest. Gojo's quiet for a second and the two of you remain still for a long moment. He then snickers quietly and you lift your head and scowl at him.

"Fuck, don't look at me like that sweetheart. You're the one who jumped into me." Gojo teases.

You grit your teeth and push yourself up slightly, propping your upper half up with your arms and leaving your legs spread over his crotch. You spot the book loosely placed in his hand and move to grab it.

Gojo's got a steel grip on the item so as you try to take it out of his grasp, your body leans over him and your chest is right in his face while you try taking the journal from him.

You can hear him chuckling at the way you struggle, "Are you doing this on purpose?" Gojo asks.

You blink and look down at him, noticing the way your breasts are all above his face, "N-No." You hum.

The sudden feeling of his slim hands at your waist makes you flinch, "I mean, I'm not complaining... You should stay like this, actually."

For a moment, you almost let yourself get distracted. With his hands on your waist, you realize the journal is no longer in his grasp so you pick the item up off the floor.

"Idiot." You comment snarkily.

Gojo raises a brow before griping onto you tightly and abruptly flipping the two of you over, his larger body looming over yours. As you find yourself laid out on the floor, you keep the book held within your hand as tightly as you can.

You thought that would help you but with the way Gojo's legs were in between your own and the way his hands fly from your waist to your wrists, you steadily realize you have little to no control.

His fingers curl around your wrists and the man tilts his head at you, "C'mon, sweets, you didn't seriously think I was gonna let you take the journal from me that easily?"

You grimace, "Stop it with the pet name."

Gojo leans down to your face, his lips ghosting your own, "Or what?"

You grit your teeth again and stay quiet. What can you say to that when he's over your body like this? Part of you wanted to scream or spit on the man. You think your hatred for Gojo Satoru was at an alarming all-time high and you could feel your anger boiling in your veins.

Quietly, you look directly into his eyes and whisper back a simple, "I hate you so much."

Gojo pulls his face away slightly, "Do you?"

"I do." You hum, "I don't know how many times I have to say it for you to get it through that thick ass skull of yours but-"

Gojo puts a hand over your mouth and you think your eye twitches. "Nah, I get it... I just don't believe you." He whispers and you watch the way his expression sinks again, his eyes saddened.

And god do you hate the way your heart throbs at his stupidly solemn expression. He steadily takes his hand off your mouth and your wrist, sitting up and still hovering over you. He's quick to take the journal from you as he does so.

You'd yet to give up on getting that book back from him so the moment he sits up, you sit up too and push him right back down-- crawling over him, grabbing both of his arms and crossing them over his head while pinning his wrists down and snatching up the journal in one swift motion.

You now sit comfortably on his crotch, pinning his arms down with all of your strength and holding the journal up and far away from him. "Bitch." You utter to him, semi-playfully.

You do not imagine the throb of his cock beneath you in reaction and you scoff at him.

"Holy fuck," A mocking smirk spreads across your face, "You like that shit?"

"The hell are you talking about?" Gojo snaps back.

"Being degraded." You clarify, "You're into that, aren't you?"

"What? No." Gojo lies.

The way you start laughing at him makes his heart throb. "Gojo, I just felt you."

"Felt me what?" He responds plainly through slightly gritted teeth.

"Twitch, idiot."

"I didn't-"

"Yeah, you did." You cut off, smiling teasingly at the man, "You got turned on by me calling you a bitch."

"N-No, I didn't." He stammers.

"Yes, you did!" You say enthusiastically, chuckling afterward as you truly find it humorous. "Fuck, is that what you wanna be Gojo? Hm?" You tease, leaning down to him slightly and whispering, "Wanna be my little bitch?"

You're not sure what came over you all of a sudden since you weren't interested in sleeping with him or providing him any sort of pleasure but... Something about the situation was just oh so amusing to you.

Again, Gojo's cock twitches beneath you and the male feels the slight stiffening in his length. "Fuck you." He curses.

"You want to so badly, don't you?" You say cooingly. "That's why you're really here, right? You're mad that I've been fucking Suguru and not you."

"Tch. No, I'm not. I don't care how many times you fuck him as long as it doesn't cost me every single time." He hums.

You tilt your head, "Really, so knowing that me and Suguru fuck pretty often doesn't bother you?"

"Do you want it to?" Gojo says in full seriousness, the look in his eyes dark.

"What? No." You reply.

"Okay, then stop telling me about it."

"Or what? You'll get pissed off?"

"Yeah, actually."

"Why?"

"Because I..." The man shuts his mouth and turns his head to the side.

You blink, "Because you what, Gojo?"

"Never mind. Get off me." He diverts.

"Make me."

His eyes shift over to you, "We both know I could if I wanted to. I'm being civil right now so, please get off me."

You glare at him a little longer and he slowly turns his head to you. Gojo's gaze on you is a mix of possessiveness and anger. The man looks at you like you belong to him and yet something's bothering him at the same time. Meanwhile, your look down at him is filled with nothing but pure distaste.

The man utters your name for the first time in a while, his voice low and tone deep. "You're not moving... Why?" He asks.

You swallow, unsure of the reasoning behind your still state.

Gojo raises a brow, "Do you..." He scoffs, "Do you need help standing...?"

A flushed and embarrassed warmth spreads across your face as you look off to the side.

"Awww, Mr. Fushiguro really did a number on ya', didn't he?" Gojo teases.

"You're so annoying."

"I'm aware. But, y'know... you'll have to let my wrists go if you want me to help you up." He says.

You shake your head, "Do you think I'm dumb? As soon as I let your wrists go, you're just gonna take the journal from me."

"I am. But that's only because if you keep it, someone's gonna find out."

"Not everyone is nosy like you, Gojo."

"You'd be surprised." He fires back.

You open your mouth to say something else but the sound of your apartment door opening makes both of you go rigid as if you'd been caught doing something you weren't supposed to.

You look up and Gojo angles his head so that he too can see who just came in. To no surprise, Shoko Ieiri enters the apartment with raised eyebrows at the odd sight of you on top of Gojo pinning his wrists down.

"Oh... that's not..." Shoko chuckles lightly, trailing off as she closes the door behind her and stares at the two of you on the floor.

You and Gojo speak in sync. "It's not what it looks like."

Shoko blinks, "Right... sure it isn't... I mean, if I'm interrupting something, I can just leave and come back another time-"

"N-No," You hum, releasing Gojo's wrists and sitting up properly, still on his crotch. "You're not interrupting anything, I just uh... fell."

Gojo moves his hands to your thighs and squeezes them, "Fell into the perfect position, honestly. Shoko you walked in at a bad time, we were totally about to fu-"

"No, we weren't." You cut off, sending him a quick glare.

Shoko giggles at the banter between you two. "Am I missing something? Are you two dating?"

"No." You answer before Gojo gets the chance to.

She raises a brow at you, "Are you suuure?"

"Positive." You say firmly.

She folds her arms and gives you a skeptical look, "I dunno roomie, when I walked in  it looked like you guys were two seconds away from fucking on the floor-"

"We weren't! I swear." You say assuringly.

"Yeah?" Shoko teases, "Then, why're you still on top of him?"

You freeze. There isn't really a good way for you to explain that a professor fucked your brains out before you came home and then you fell on top of Gojo and now you can't stand without help...

"Uhh.." You trail off.

"She's keepin' my cock warm right now." Gojo blurts out spontaneously.

Shoko scrunches up her face, "Gross, are you two actually-"

"Oh my god! No!" You huff, looking down to Gojo, "I'm gonna hurt you."

He bites his lip, "Are you now?"

"You fucking freak..." You whisper, your words only catching his ears.

Gojo then sits up with you shifting into his lap before his hands go to your waist. "You're lucky Shoko's your roommate." He whispers back to you before helping you stand up.

The two of you soon make your way up off the floor and Gojo makes sure to stand slightly in front of you to hide the way your legs are still shaking slightly. The shake wasn't exactly noticeable unless you started walking but it seems like Gojo still wanted to hide it from Shoko anyway.

"So," Shoko hums, again narrowing her eyes at the two of you. "I let you borrow our spare key for one day and you come in bothering my roommate...?" She says playfully, her words directed toward Gojo.

His eyes widen, "I wasn't bothering her!"

"Bullshit," You murmur.

Gojo scoffs at you in response before directing his words to Shoko again, "Anyways, I was just about to leave."

"Were you?" Shoko asks, clearly unconvinced.

The man in front of you nods his head and then glances behind himself and to you, "Don't miss me too much, sweets." He uttered casually with a wink.

You don't respond to him with anything more than your usual glare. With a dramatic sigh at your lack of a reply, Gojo shrugs and heads toward the front door, passing Shoko and teasingly sticking his tongue out at her.

Shoko chuckles at the man before he leaves and she shuts the door behind him.

With a giddy grin on her face, she does this dramatic slow turn around to look at you. "Soooo, are you gonna tell me what's really going on between the two of you."

You're quick to freeze, having quickly tossed all the cash Gojo left on the counter and your journal into your room before Shoko turned around. Now you stand at your bedroom door, your back to the woman and your eyes widened.

"Nothing's going on between us," You hum, tuning your head back to her.

She visibly doesn't believe you. "Are you suuuure?"

You blink, "Shoko... do you want there to be something between me and Gojo?"

The woman scoffs at your words, "You even talk like him now, holy shit. How long have you guys been fooling around?"

"We're not fooling around at all." You sigh.

She folds her arms, "Y'know, you are a shitty liar, sweets." She comments on purpose, having heard the way Gojo used the pet name toward you.

You swallow, "Please don't start..."

Shoko starts walking toward you slowly, "C'monnnn, how long have you guys been fucking?"

You freeze, "H-Huh? What makes you think we're-"

"It's kinda obvious. Just be honest with me." She says sweetly.

"We... We slept together once, Shoko. One time." You tell her, making sure to be very clear with how many times you've been with Gojo.

A smile spreads across her face, "Aww, really?"

"Yeah, why do you look so happy about this??"

"Cause' that idiot does nothing but gush about you and I'm happy to hear he finally got what he wanted." She says with a sigh as she turns to head toward her room.

"He... He gushes about me?" You question softly, turning your body to follow the direction she's going.

You don't know why you're so intrigued by Gojo gushing about you but your curiosity is oddly high.

"Hm?" Shoko pauses and looks at you, "Oh, yeah, all the time."

It would've been nice to know that before the list... "Why didn't you tell me?" You ask.

"Cause' I refuse to give Gojo the easy way out. If he likes you as much as he claims to, he should be able to talk to you himself." She explains, "Instead, the dumbass said something about being scared of women."

"Seriously?"

"Mhm. Like I said, he's an idiot." She shrugs.

A slow nod of your head is given to her, "Right..." You still don't know why but, your curiosity is eating at you now, "So, wait, does he like like me?"

"Like like, as in, does he have a crush on you?" She asks for clarification.

You nod.

"Nah," Shoko responds simply.

The odd well of anticipation you had sunk instantly, "Oh-"

"I'm pretty sure he's like, in love with you," She suddenly blurts out, looking off to the side in thought. She then chuckles as she recalls something, "Yeah, I think it's way more than a crush."

"You're joking right?" You breathe out.

"Nope!" She says enthusiastically. "If you ask him at the right time, and actually give him a chance, I guarantee you he'll confess."

Okay, you'll give Shoko the benefit of the doubt since she doesn't know what you do. She's not privy to the fact that Gojo's selfishly blackmailing you to fuck a list of people. But even so, you can't help but wonder what makes her come to such a conclusion.

For Gojo to be in love with you, he has the worst way of showing it.

Shoko's words only make you scoff and shake your head, "I'll uh, I'll ask him about it one day."

"Oh my god, so you're gonna give him a chance?!" She asks excitedly.

"Uh, no. there's..." You look off to the side, "Someone else I think I have feelings for."

"Ouu, who is it?" Shoko hums, her brows raising.

"Uh, I'll tell you about him another day..."

She chuckles, "Promise?"

"Pinky." You grin.

Both of your pinkys rise to the air and from a distance you pretend to lock your fingers to seal the little promise you just made. The two of you then dip off into your perspective spaces and you're left with your thoughts.

Gojo in love with you? Please. That's the most ridiculous thing you've heard all week. Why would Shoko say such a thing? Aside from today, this was her first time even seeing the two of you interact with one another...

It's odd to you how she could've come to such a conclusion. Maybe there are things she and Gojo have talked about regarding you before you and Gojo started talking. Maybe there's a lot about the guy you don't actually know...

Fuck, why are you thinking about this anyways? Who cares? His being in love with you obviously isn't going to change the situation he's put you in so there's no point in pondering over it.

Instead, you'll refocus yourself on what's really important; Choso Kamo.

He's the guy you want next. Though, you hope the bubbling feelings in your chest won't get in the way of you trying to have sex with him. And even more, you desperately hope that he doesn't have feelings for you.

At least, not yet.

Feelings will bring nothing but complications into the whole thing and you want to avoid them as much as you can. Only until the list is over. Then, you'll move to pursue a relationship with Choso.

Yeah, that sounds like the plan.

What could go wrong?

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎

KAMO CHOSO ☐

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

??? NAOYA ☐

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