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corroded-hellfire · 1 month ago

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This is a little angsty but do the AYW kids ever go through scrutiny about reader and Eddie's marriage from school and their friend's families?

With Ryan and Luke did they ever hear negative comments from their classmates other parent about reader and Eddie? Or a classmate saying "[reader] isn't your real mom!"

Can we agree that these boys need to be protected at all costs?

Words: 2.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The smell of crayons and Play-Doh hovers in the first grade classroom. The teacher, Ms. Fabray, counts her blessings that there aren’t any more foul odors filling the space. The kids are just back inside from recess, still rowdy with those last bursts of energy they get whenever they hear, “Five more minutes!”

As usual, Brandon Simpson is the last student to stroll in the back classroom door. He’s the most consistent troublemaker in the class and one of the reasons Ms. Fabray wishes this school year would hurry up and be over.

“Go sit there, Brandon,” Ms. Fabray instructs the six-year-old, gesturing to the only table that has an available chair.

He plops down next to Luke Munson, who only glances at him out of the corner of his eye before he goes back to drawing.

Luke’s tongue pokes out between his lips as he concentrates on getting the shape of the dog’s nose just right. The moment he sets the black crayon down, his arm gets shoved. Luke’s brow furrows as he looks over at the culprit. Brandon beats Luke to the punch to speak, though.

“That girl who picks you up from school isn’t your sister?”

Well, that was one of the last things Luke expected to come out of the other boy’s mouth. Once his surprise vanishes, his head fills with a vision of you and how you smile every single time you see him and Ryan walking out of the school building.

“No, she’s my daddy’s girlfriend,” Luke says with a shake of his head.

“But she’s so young!” Truthfully, Brandon wouldn’t have been able to gauge your age even if he was given one of the numbers, but he heard his mom complaining about the Munson’s dad being with a girl young enough to be his daughter.

While completely untrue since Eddie is only twelve years older than you, Brandon didn’t know nor care, and was just happy he had something he could use to tease Luke.

“So what?” Luke asks, reaching for the brown crayon.

“My mom says your dad should know how ridiculous he looks,” Brandon says. “That he’s probably having a midwife crisis and is trying to feel young again.”

The little girl sitting across from Brandon tilts her head up slightly to look at him beneath her sandy blunt bangs.

“It’s midlife,” she says.

“Whatever.” Brandon waves her off. “He only wants her cause she’s pretty and young.”

The bully is clearly just parroting what he heard his mother saying, but it gets the intended effect. Luke drops the crayon and his small hands curl into fists.

“She loves my Daddy.”

“But not you,” Brandon says with a shrug, turning to grab a few crayons of his own. “I bet she just puts up with you cause she likes your dad.”

“That’s not true!” Luke shouts.

“Quieter voices, please,” Ms. Fabray says from across the room.

“She’s not your mom,” Brandon goads while starting his own drawing.

Luke hates that he can’t deny that. You’ve treated him better than his own mother has from the day you met him. It didn’t take long before Luke wished that you were his mom instead of Brittany. When he realized that wasn’t possible, he switched to wanting you to be with his dad. Now that his dream had come true, Luke never thought someone would be so mean about it.

“But she loves me,” Luke says.

The words are true, he knows it with every fiber of his being. The four words don’t even seem enough to the little boy to encapsulate how much you care for him and do for him. To him, you’re better than a mom, since his frame of reference is so terrible.

“I love my hamster, but I’m not his dad!” Brandon shoots back.

Luke’s hands bang down on the table and his brow furrows even further.

“I’m not a hamster! And she loves me!”

“What’s going on over there?” Ms. Fabray asks, craning her neck in the direction of the boys.

“She’s a fake mommy,” Brandon continues, ignoring the teacher. “Not a real mommy.”

The fury has come to its boiling point in Luke’s small body. He sees red as he lunges for Brandon, knocking the other boy out of his seat. Both of them land on the rough carpet, a mess of tangled limbs and shouts.

“Boys!” Ms. Fabray yells, hurrying over to them. “Luke! Brandon! Stop it!”

Luke wraps an arm around Brandon’s neck, his Hot Wheels sneakers digging into the ground. Brandon’s legs kick, his heels pounding against Luke’s shins. It causes Luke to let go, and Brandon takes the opportunity to roll over and start hitting Luke in the ribs.

Ms. Fabray pulls Brandon off by gripping him beneath his armpits and sets him down behind her. Luke hops up and the teacher immediately holds her hands out to keep the boys separate.

“That is enough!”

“He started it!” Brandon shouts.

“Nuh uh!” Luke shoots back. “He started making fun of my mo—my dad’s girlfriend!”

“Brandon, you go sit in the corner seat. Luke, you go sit at my desk. Now.”

The gray-skinned demon creature in the novel you’re reading creeps behind the main character and is on the verge of pouncing on her when the door to Eddie’s apartment swings open. You jump and let out a small yelp.

Eddie ushers a red-faced Luke inside and closes the door behind them.

“Hey, what’re you guys doing here?” you ask, glancing down at your watch. It’s still hours from when you usually leave to go pick the kids up from school.

Neither of them answers, but Luke takes off running down the hall to his room. Eddie tosses his keys onto the counter and lets out a heavy sigh. He stumbles over and plops down on the couch next to you.

“Luke got in a fight.”

“Again? Is he okay” Your eyes widen in shock as you lean in towards your boyfriend. The fight Luke had gotten into when kids made fun of Ryan’s glasses last year doesn’t feel that long ago.

Eddie nods, sighing again. He turns his head to look at you, a small melancholy smile on his face.

“Physically, yeah,” he says. “He’s upset though. He started it over something another kid said. About you.”

If the rug was pulled out from under you with the fight news, this crumbles the entire foundation of the house beneath you.

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. He reaches over and rubs his hand over your thigh. “That you’re not his real mom.”

Your heart drops. Sadness and anger simultaneously begin to fill the now-empty space in your chest.

“Can I talk to him?” you ask, a tentative tone to your voice. You’d completely understand if Eddie, as his dad, wanted to be the one to handle this.

“I think you’re the only one who can make him feel better, honestly,” your boyfriend tells you.

Something about that touches you. The fact that you have a special enough place carved out in Luke’s life that there’s a pain only you can soothe.

Unsure of how to respond to that, you nod and push yourself up from the couch.

It’s quiet as you approach Luke’s room, but when you peek your head in, you see him sitting on his bed sniffling and rubbing his eyes.

“Hey, you.”

He doesn’t look up at the sound of your voice. Instead, he curls further in on himself and scoots closer to the bottom corner of his bed. Your heart aches more and more with every step you take towards him.

His Hot Wheels blanket shifts beneath you as you take a seat next to him.

“Do you want to talk?” you ask him quietly.

There are a few moments where his sniffling is the only noise in the apartment. Suddenly, Luke turns around and buries his head in your chest, his arms gripping you tightly around the waist.

A gasp escapes you, shocked at the overt show of emotion. The usually happy and bubbly little boy sobbing into your t-shirt tears your heart in half. You instinctively wrap your arms around him, hugging him close to your body.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you coo before pressing a kiss into his curls. “I’ve got you. Everything is okay.”

Luke’s heart wrenching cries bring tears to your own eyes and you do your best to blink them away.

“I love you,” you mumble against his hair. “I love you so much, you wouldn’t believe.”

He pulls back and looks up at you with wide watery eyes. His face is tear-stained and rosy red. The pain you find there is unbearable. You’d give anything to make him feel better, to make him happy.

“I…I love you, t-too,” he warbles out.

You press a kiss to his forehead, and he pulls away a little more so he can wipe his eyes.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” you ask, reaching up and wiping away a tear he missed.

“I-I got in a fight,” he admits.

“About what?”

His bottom lip wobbles but he swallows down the fresh tears that threaten to pour.

“Brandon Sim-Simpson kept saying you don’t love me because you’re n-not a r-real mommy.”

“Oh, Luke.” One of the tears that had collected spills down your cheek and you’re quick to wipe it away. “You don’t think that, do you?”

The little boy shakes his head, his curls bouncing with the motion. You breathe a sigh of relief. It would absolutely break you if Luke believed this punk kid and doubted your affection for him.

“Good.” Gently, you cup Luke’s face in your hands and look him straight in the eye. “Luke, I love you, Ryan, and Daddy more than anything or anyone else in the world. I didn’t know it was possible to love someone as much as I love you.”

“H-He wouldn’t believe me,” Luke sniffles.

“Well…then he’s stupid.”

Luke’s eyes widen at your words. He never expected to hear you talk like that about a kid. But this particular kid hurt your boy, so you think calling him “stupid” is on the tame end of the spectrum.

“Honey, you know that I love you. Me, Ryan, and Daddy all know it and we all love each other. That’s all that matters.” You smooth some curls away from his face. “I know what he said hurt you. He was wrong in what he said. But it’s true I’m also not your mommy.”

The six-year-old glumly nods his head, his eyes downcast.

“But…” You tip his chin back up, so he’ll look at you. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love you in the same way a mommy does. Because I do. I would do anything for you.” I would die for you, you think to yourself. I would kill for you. “I will love you for the rest of my life, and even after.”

“Even after?” Luke asks.

“Yeah,” you say with a soft smile. “I’ll be a ghost and still try to squeeze you.” You wrap him up in your arms and pull him into your lap. He’s getting a little big for this, but you don’t give a shit.

Luke tucks his head under your chin and his hands grip your upper arms, as if he doesn’t want to let you go. “You’re everything to me, Luke. The fact that I’m not the one who brought you into this world doesn’t change that. Nothing can ever change it. You’re my little boy.”

“You’re better than a mommy,” Luke says against your neck, letting his eyes slip closed.

His words warm your heart, and you give him a soft squeeze.

“Thank you.” Softly, you rub your hand up and down his back. “Do you feel better?”

You can feel his curls brush against you as he nods his head. He sniffles once more before tilting his head back to look up at you.

“Yes. I’m sorry I got in a fight.”

“I understand the feelings getting too big, sweetheart. But we have to find better ways to express them, okay?”

He nods again and dives back in for another hug.

You cling to him just as tightly as he does to you. The love the two of you have for one another surrounds you in a warm bubble, solidifying this moment in both of your memories. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for Luke, and you’ll spend the rest of your life showing him in a million different ways.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS #request

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chrissdollie · 1 year ago

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movie night (jess mariano x gilmore reader) ♡.｡.:*

a/n: just letting you know before you read, i wrote this at like 10:30, i was super tired and i did not proofread 😭 i’m just trying to get this out tbh. also this is kinda just bc i may not be able to get out chapters 5 and 6 for iwmflyb this week. ik it’s not billy but maybe i’ll do something for him tmr wc: 1.4k

“rory! where’s my white sweater?” you yelled to your sister. you walked out of your room and ran downstairs to her room. “can i give it to you tomorrow?” she asked with puppy dog eyes, pouting. you folded your arms in her doorway. “why tomorrow?” you raised an eyebrow. “dean’s coming over tonight.” rory told you , getting up from her bed. “hm, okay. as soon as prince charming leaves, i’m stealing it back!” you sassed. rory stuck out her tongue at you in which you did right back.

then a knock was heard at the door. mom forgot to get luke to fix the doorbell, so everyone had to knock for now. “coming!” you yelled. you ran out of rory’s room to the door. you opened the door to reveal a slightly messy jess. “oh, hey.” you greeted. this was very random. “oh, hey back.” he teased. he welcomed himself into your home and walked to the kitchen. “wait why are you here?” you followed.

he took off his jacket and put it on the back of a chair. “i thought we were hanging out today?” he stated, confused. “no, you’re coming over tomorrow, silly.” you walked over to the fridge and took out a chocolate pudding. “dessert before dinner? naughty, naughty.” jess joked. “shh.”

“your mom won’t mind right?” he questioned slightly nervously.

“mind what?” you replied with a mouthful of pudding. rory came out of her room in a rush but stopped in her tracks seeing jess. “um. what’s he doing here?” rory folded her arms and tapped her foot. “hello to you too. i’m great, thanks. how are you?” jess spoke sarcastically. “you guys are bad hosts.”

you ignored jess and turned to rory. “jess forgot that he was coming over tomorrow instead of today, ror.” you explained. “you mind of we change it to today?” he wiggled his eyebrows. “no! dean is coming over today and i don’t want you to ruin it.” rory whined. “how would i ruin it?” he responded highly offended. “yeah, please tell us.” you quipped.

“by being… jess!”

“now that’s a great answer if i’ve ever heard one.” you giggled. “i mean it though, dean doesn’t like him, he doesn’t like dean. you see the pattern?” she tried to convince you. “oh hush, you.” you silenced her, turning to face jess. “sure, you can stay. as long as you bring us the goods from Luke’s.” you ordered, standing taller. “i’ll go get them right now.” he winked.

rory rolled her eyes as soon as he left. you put your spoon in the sink. “why are you being so mean today? you’re friends with him!”

“okay, i’m sorry, but dean really doesn’t like him. i just don’t want him to ruin anything between us.” she confessed. “MOMMY! RORY’S HAVING BOY PROBLEMS!” you yelled very loudly. “shut up!” rory grinned, laughing. “NO IM NOT!” she yelled back upstairs.

the thudding of lorelai’s loud boots was heard as she ran into the living room. “spill it, sister.” she sat down excitedly. rory turned back to you. “he’s bringing Luke’s! i think it’s a pretty fair deal. and it’ll be like a double date!” you reasoned. “oooohhh. a double date!” lorelai’s eyes shone brightly like a cartoon character. “well fine, but what am i supposed to tell him? ‘oh, hi dean! do you mind if your least favorite person on earth joins us for our very romantic date tonight? thanks!’” she overdramatically acted out.

“ooh, ooh, i’ll be dean!” lorelai turned her chair. she furrowed her brows and her voice changed to a deep tone. “oh no way, rory, i repeat, NO. WAY.” you giggled at your mother’s impression.

“he doesn’t sound like that!” she tried to hide it, but rory couldn’t help grinning. “just don’t tell him.” you simply put. you nodded while rory scoffed. “whatever you say.” she walked back into her room. lorelai looked at you.

“she seems excited.”

the first knock of the night was heard at 7pm. “knock knock!” rory went running to the door hoping it was dean first. but she was disappointed as it was jess instead with a box. “food!” rory cheered, grabbing the box from him. “thanks.”

jess closed the door and stepped inside. you were spread on the couch with a soft blanket on top of you. he walked over to where you were and bent over to kiss your head. “someone looks cozy.”

“i am.” you grinned. “what are we watching tonight?” he asked sitting on your feet. “Donna Reed!” rory yelled from the kitchen. jess rolled his eyes smiling. “that’s not a movie. this is supposed to be a movie night.”

“whatever. she still deserves to be seen.” you sat up and leaned onto jess’ shoulder. “dean says he’s gonna be here in five minutes.” rory announced walking into the living room with a bowl of popcorn. “ooh, ooh!! you should hide and scare him.” you giggled mischievously.

“no, that’s a terrible idea. that’ll make it even worse for him.” rory sympathized. she wasn’t wrong, dean would probably get super mad. “fine.” you shrugged. it’s alright, there will always be next time!

the second knock of the night was heard a few minutes later to which rory got up to answer the door. “hi, dean.” she leaned up to kiss him. he walked in and gave her the tub of ice cream. “what flavor did you get?” you asked him, shouting.

he chuckled and walked into the living room. “hey-“ he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw jess’ face staring back at him. he turned to rory. “wh- is this some kind of joke?” you could see the anger starting to rise.

“y/n wanted him over tonight. he said he’s going to behave.” rory soothed, handing you the ice cream and sitting down on the couch. his mouth formed a straight line when jess gave his little wave.

dean walked over and sat next to rory with his arms crossed. you gasped. “neapolitan!” you cheered. jess grabbed a spoon from the table and dug in with you. “what are we gonna watch?” dean questioned, taking some popcorn. “donna reed.” you and rory answered simultaneously.

“what’s that?” he manspread on the couch. “i’m sorry, what? you’ve never seen it?” you exaggerated, putting a hand to your heart making jess grin. “that’s a sin.” rory gasped. “that’s a cruel statement.” you quipped.

“so it’s like a show?” he asked, smiling softly. he was slightly nervous with jess being here. part of him didn’t know how to act. “it’s more than a show. it’s a lifestyle!” rory boasted and turned to you. “it’s a religion.” you pointed with your spoon and a mouthful of ice cream. rory nodded with you.

“oh jeez, can you put it on already? i’m dying over here.” jess groaned dramatically. you stuck your tongue out at him and pressed play.

“bye dean!” you waved goodbye after watching a few episodes of the great donna reed. rory was quite upset, though. jess fell asleep on the couch while you guys were watching so you decided to leave him there for a few minutes to talk to rory privately. “how could he like that kind of stuff?” she whispered. “i think he just meant that the idea of a wife cooking for her husband is nice.” you reasoned.

“but i don’t think he understands the time period. what it was like for women at this time, you know?” she continued whispering. you nodded your head in understanding. you think she was being a little extra, but you kept that to yourself. “i’m tired i’m going to sleep.” rory kissed your cheek and walked to her room. “nighty night!” you whisper yelled.

you crawled onto jess and he shifted over slightly. “jess,” you shook him slightly. “wake up for a sec, babe.” you needed to quickly make sure he was allowed to sleepover without luke going into a frenzy before you could sleep comfortably.

you could hear him awakening from his slumber. “yeah, what’s up? you okay?” he sat up quickly. “i’m alright, are you able to sleepover?” you asked, rubbing his arm. he nodded and laid back down, bringing you with him. he stroked your hair as you covered yourself with the blanket. “goodnight!” you kissed his neck before snuggling into him. “goodnight y/n.”

you sat up all of a sudden. “my sweater!” you whisper-yelled out. “huh??” jess hummed. “i need to get my sweater back from rory!” you got up and ran down the hall to her room, slamming her door open. jess chuckled to himself. “I WANT MY SWEATER BACK!”

#jess mariano #donna reed #that damn donna reed #gilmore girls #gilmore girls x reader #y/n #jess mariano x reader #jess x y/n #jess #movie night #lukes #dean forester #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #drabble #y/n gilmore #𝓳𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓸 ☕️

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gottaluvharry · 1 year ago

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family

carlos sainz jr x pregnant!reader

summary: your son has a few questions about why his little sister is in your belly, and carlos is happy to explain

———————————

Lazy mornings with your little family were your favorite. You smiled to yourself as you woke to the hushed whispers of your husband and your son. As you turn to face the other side of the bed, you’re met with 2 pairs of brown puppy dog eyes and 2 identical smiles.

“Buenos dias, mama!” good morning mom your son screeched, proud of himself for using Spanish. “Buenos dias baby” you say through a smile. He latches on to your neck and you feel Carlos’ hand rubbing patterns on your stomach. “Morning hermosa” beautiful he says going in for a kiss. “How is little girl?” he asks. “Sleeping I think. She must be tired after all the kicking she did last night” you groan, recalling the many hours you were woken due to the relentless kicking in your stomach. “lo lamento, se amable con mami” i’m sorry, be nice to mommy he says leaning to talk to his unborn daughter. You just laugh and shake your head at the pout he has on his face, guiding him up by his chin to give him another kiss.

“Papa,” your little boy starts, breaking you and Carlos apart. “How did baby get in mommy’s belly?” he asks as he puts his hand over Carlos’ on your stomach. “Well hijo” son Carlos starts. “Me and mommy love each other, and we made your sister together because we love each other” he says, hoping it’s enough to settle your sons curiosity. “Like when you and mommy make pancakes together?” he asks, now moving to sit in his fathers lap. “No, not like when we make pancakes” he laughs. “He is just made out of love, baby. When 2 people love each other so much and want a little baby like you, they will make one. That’s all I can tell you” he says, avoiding a heavier subject. “But mommy, did it hurt when baby went in your tummy?” he now turns to you with fear in his eyes over the thought of you hurting. “No buddy it didn’t hurt” you assure him, ruffling his hair; but you don’t miss the smirk Carlos sends your way remembering the night in question. “So why does baby stay in mommy’s belly for so long?” he asks, now turning to look at Carlos for the answer. “That’s just where they grow buddy. Babies need lots of space to grow and the only place there is enough room is in a mommy’s tummy” he responds. “Oh” he hums, taking in all the information he’s learning. “But how does baby come out?” he goes on, his eyes lighting up when he gets another question. “When he is ready to come out me and Mommy will go to the hospital and the doctors will help her come out” Carlos answers. “But does it hurt?” your son asks, once again scared of you being hurt. “Only a little bit” you say, “but it is worth it because then we get to hold your little sister”.

As your son continues asking questions and Carlos continues tracing patterns across your stomach, you can’t help but smile at the little life you’ve created. Who knew one bed could hold so much love on a random morning.

—————————————

hope you guys enjoyed this short little blurb:) sorry it’s been so long since i’ve posted, there was a lot going on and then i started school but in honor of Carlos’ birthday AND pole today i figured i’d post something!! might clear my drafts out and post some more in the next week or so<3

also my inbox is open, so request anything if you have any ideas! or if you just want to talk to someone, feel free!

okay last thing, thank you all for the support, it’s so special to me to have people with the same interests reading and liking my work, i want to give you all hugs<333

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macfrog · 1 year ago

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rack 'em

the girlies watched triple frontier last week and it was the single most inspiring thing i have ever seen so here’s a lil frankie fic to cleanse my mind. dedicated to my babies @gracieispunk (who put this concept in my head for the wee laddies), @hellishjoel & @strang3lov3 🤍

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x f!reader

summary: when your parents ask you to housesit for them, you take the opportunity to spend some quality time back in your hometown, hanging with your older brother and...getting reacquainted with his best friend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, teasing & touching, dubcon (reader is a little drunk, frankie is not), oral sex (f receiving), alcohol consumption, quick mention of dr*gs, cursing, frankie's a bit of a dick but reader gives as good as she gets

word count: 6.1k (cause apparently i don’t know how to write short fics 🤪)

main masterlist

When you were four, a new family moved in across the street. Nobody knew them – your mom spent two straight days trying to scoop for information. Who they were, where they’d moved from, what was with the banged-up Ford pickup they drove. Nobody knew a thing.

You didn’t take much interest, being four years old – two months shy of your fifth birthday, by the way – and too invested in whatever politics a woman of your age finds herself wrapped up in, but you noticed one key thing about them.

The mom had tattoos.

Two full sleeves. Colorful ones, too. A bright red heart on her shoulder, a green snake wrapped around her forearm – among others. It was fucking cool, alright? No matter how much your mom whispered to Ms. Teller over the fence about them.

One night, when you were supposed to be in bed, you snuck out of your room and crossed the landing to your brother’s. Santiago and his friends were all staying at Tom’s, and you knew that in his desk he had permanent markers. You clicked the door open, as quiet as you could, and crept over his matted carpet to the drawer. You took one Sharpie, and spent the night adding snakes and hearts and whatever else came to mind to your Barbies’ arms, legs, faces, necks.

They looked fucking awesome. Just like that mom across the street.

But somehow or other – and I’m not blaming anyone – the next morning, a drawing appeared on the bathroom wall. In Sharpie. Your mom hit the roof.

As soon as Santi got home, she dragged him by the ear into the bathroom and pointed a trembling finger at the drawing. You forget what it was – it’s been years, and you were never much of an artist.

His plea of innocence helped him none; she knew he owned Sharpies, knew he sucked just as bad as you did at drawing, and he was grounded for three whole weeks. No soccer practice, no TV, no PlayStation. Which, at thirteen, is basically a stint in Rikers.

Your brother, though…he was always better than your mom at reading your mind. He saw the guilt on your face plain as the black marker behind the toilet tank. He cornered you in your bedroom as soon as she went back downstairs, and established three key rules going forward.

One: do not enter his room ever again.

Two: no touching his stuff.

And three: anytime he took the fall for you, you owed him. Big time.

You’ve followed the rules ever since. You barely knew what the inside of his room looked like, growing up. But it worked, ‘cause ever since the Sharpie incident of ’99, you two remained closer than most siblings with an eight-year age gap.

So, now, two days into a two-week stay back in your hometown to housesit while your parents head off on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, you’re in the car with him. Listening to music, bitching about your mom, arguing over the best Cola flavor.

It’s like old times.

“She said, How’s my baby girl?” you yell over Stevie Nicks’s voice, reading from your phone.“And when I said I’m fine, she said, No, I meant the dog. Is she fucking serious?”

Santiago’s head tilts back with laughter, dark curls nudging against the headrest. He’s driving you to Lucky’s, a local sports bar he and his buddies frequent. He promised when he picked you up at the airport he’d take you out, get you drunk, and he was holding to it.

You pull your legs down off the dash as he turns into the parking lot, pulling in right under the white fluorescent sign, four-leaf clover flashing under it.

“She’s looking forward to seeing you when they get back,” he tells you, switching the engine off.

“Oh, yeah? That why she didn’t even hang around to see me before they left?”

He hands you a smug grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t have it all, big shot. You move a thousand miles away, you forfeit your chance of being the favorite.”

You swing your door open and hop out, chasing him around the car to follow him inside. “You say that like I was ever in the fucking running.”

He snorts, pushing the door open, and a loud cheer roars through the bar. You blush as you follow your brother across the room to two tables full of familiar faces.

“Hey, baby.” Your best friend’s arms pull you in, her gold hoop earrings cold against your cheek. She smells like rose and cedarwood.

“Mal,” you hum, smiling as she pulls away.

“My mom said your parents only just made it on board,” she says, detaching strands of her long, black hair from the cuff of your jacket. “Said they had a flat tire and had to race to get to the boat.”

Your head jerks back. “She never told me any of that. Just asked how Ange was.”

Mal snorts.

“Hey, lil Santi!”

You glance over your shoulder to watch as Benny Miller stalks over, almost shoving some old guy off his feet, arms wide open, wide grin spread across his lips. His brother, Will, follows behind, and gives your shoulder a loving slap when Benny pulls you in for a hug.

“How’s Boston treatin’ ya?”

“Good,” you reply. “How’s…MMA treating you?”

“Good!” he echoes, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

It’s kinda part of the deal that your older brother’s friends become brothers in their own right to you, especially when you’re as young and easily-influenced as you were. They used to use you in their elaborate plans – send you in as a distraction while they filled their pockets with food at parties, or use your smaller stature to their advantage when attempting to break into places they shouldn’t.

By the time you were old enough to follow their orders, they were well into their teens. Which is basically grown-up, as far as six-year-old you was concerned. They were always allowed to do things you’re still not sure your mom would permit you to do at twenty-eight, like disappear all day without checking in, or come home black and blue after an organized street brawl with the boys from the other side of the neighborhood.

But there was no denying they cared about you. Will, Benny, and Tom, at least. They showed their affection by ruffling your hair as they passed, or sneaking you candy under the table even after your mom had told you you’d had enough. They’d christened you ‘lil Santi’, a name that – despite the embarrassment it always casts over you anytime you hear it – still sticks to this day.

Your brother’s friends were family to him, and, by extension, family to you.

Well. All but one.

Frankie Morales – nickname Catfish: long-time best buddy of your big brother, and long-time fucking asshole. There isn’t one thing on Earth that you two see eye to eye on, except for that very fact: he hates you almost as much as you hate him.

Always have, always will.

He’s in trouble almost regularly for drug-related stuff you don’t bother asking Santiago about. You don’t need to hear details to know he’s a pain in the ass. He’s been antagonizing you for as long as you’ve known him – where the others ruffled your hair, he’d shove into your shoulder as he passed, sending you – and whatever you were holding – flying. Any attempt you made at conversation with any one of them resulted in an argument between you and Frankie.

You hated him. Fucking hated him.

And tonight, you almost think yourself lucky. Almost go over to thank Santi for not inviting him, when you notice the silhouette of his baseball cap and that denim button up hunched over in a bar stool, and your eyes narrow.

You can’t help yourself. It’s been a years-long feud. And you’re old enough to take him on now. So, you stride over.

“You here to poison my drink?”

“What?” he asks, shaking his head. Already exasperated just by the sight of you.

“I bet you cheered the loudest when I walked in.”

He shrugs. “Cheered when your brother gave me fifty bucks to show face.”

Your upper lip curls. When the bartender notices you standing, elbows propped on the bar, he leans over.

“Beer, please.” Your smile twists into a grimace when you catch Frankie watching you. “What are you doing here? You have to be the person least excited to see me home.”

“I told you,” he says, lifting the bottle to his lips, “I’m bein’ paid.”

“Alright, so what do I gotta pay you to make you leave?”

Frankie scoffs, opens his mouth to answer what you’re sure is a comment laced with just as much venom, when Will’s strong arms slap down on each of your shoulders.

“We buyin’ our favorite veterinary nurse a drink, Francisco?”

You take your beer from Nick’s outstretched hand, sliding him the cash in return, and hold it up to Will in reply. “I’m good, thanks. Wouldn’t wanna eat into that fifty bucks, Catfish,” you mutter, turning to wander off.

You weave in and out of bodies, making your way to the opposite side of the bar where the pool tables sit. Doused in the warm strip light over the green felt, Santi chalks his cue ready to play against Mal, who’s already lining up her shot.

You hop up on a stool right next to the table, glancing back over to the bar where Frankie sits, now turned to face your direction. His elbow sits on the wooden surface, head turns from the football game showing behind the bar, over to you. And when he sees you looking, turns back to the TV screen, cool expression never changing.

“You done?” Mal asks Santiago, feeding the cue through her ring-decorated fingers.

He nods, tossing the chalk back over to you. “Better get your purse out, Bennett. Lotta sober people in here, all gonna want a free drink once you lose.”

“As if,” she breathes, and breaks the rack.

Somewhere throughout the game – a grueling and controversial one, by all accounts – Frankie makes his way over, following Will. You’re thankful when he plants himself on the other side of the table, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other around a bottle of beer. Though the light only comes up to his chest, right where the last button is done up, you notice him looking. Every fucking glance.

It pisses you off. Not the glancing. The way it makes you feel having him watch you. Wherever it comes from, you swallow it down with one big gulp of alcohol.

The game ends in a questionable loss. This side of the table swears the white skimmed off of Mal’s final solid when Santi hit it, right before it potted the black. The other side objected, claimed it was a clean shot ‘n you all know it. A winner wasn’t officially announced, but, being that Mallory Bennett is a force of nature where her competitive nature is concerned, Santiago was forced to buy the loser’s round.

She saunters up to you with her free whiskey in her hand, silver jewelry clinking off of the cold glass.

“Proud of yourself?” you ask, smirking.

She hands you your third beer of the night, sweeping her silky hair out of her face. “It hit it, alright? I saw it move.”

“Was that before or after you nudged the table?”

Mal holds a finger to her lips. You swat her hand away and the pair of you giggle, leaning into each other like schoolgirls whispering secrets in the playground.

“You know something,” Santiago materializes over Mal’s shoulder, shaking his head, “if you gotta cheat to beat me, I’ll give you the win.”

“Oh, get out,” you throw back. “Don’t blame her for your bad aim. Ms. Teller could’ve hit that shot and she’s got cataracts in both eyes.”

Your brother nods at you, tongue in his cheek. “Alright, smartass. Grab a cue.”

You scoff. Look around the room, shaking your head. The crowd has dispersed a little, folks have turned back to the TV screens, shifted focus back to the alcohol in their glasses. And then you look back to Santiago, holding his arms out.

“Alright. Fuck it.”

You hop down and snatch the second cue, wandering around the table while he racks the balls. He lifts the triangle, rolls the white over to you, and tells you to break.

The multicolored balls scatter in a fleet, two stripes tumble into pockets, and you stand back to survey your options. There’s a third stripe close to a pocket on the right, so you wander around to your left and turn.

“’scuse me,” you mutter, nudging Frankie’s stomach with the bottom of your cue.

He shoots you a dead-eyed stare, and takes one step back. And then his eyes drop, and you feel like you could slap him.

But you’re three – almost four – beers deep, and there are heads turning to watch how this plays out, and you can feel the bassline of the music rippling up from the soles of your feet all through your body, and you can feel the heat of his stare on the backs of your thighs, right where the hem of your dress sits.

Suddenly, slapping isn’t what you want to do to him.

Your head turns back to the pool table and you bend over, drawing the cue back between almost shaking fingers, and slam it into the white. It fires into the red striped ball, which hits the corner of the cushion, millimeters away from falling into the pocket.

You sigh, straightening up and waiting for your brother to begin his taunting, but it never comes. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone, tapping the screen and holding it to his ear.

“Yep?” There’s a pause, Santiago’s face sours, and then he glances around the bar. “Right now? Really? No, it’s just…” He sighs. “Alright. I’ll be there. Just…I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He hangs up the phone and curses under his breath, then turns back to you, answering the question on your expression with: “One of our informants just got himself killed. I gotta go.”

“You haven’t even taken a shot yet,” you huff, taking his cue when he holds it out.

“I’ll make it up to you, hermana, promise. How are you gonna get home?”

You shrug. Mumble an, “I dunno.”

His eyes scan the room, passing over Will – already worse for wear, leaning shakily against a nearby table slurring to a group of strangers, then to Benny – stumbling out of the bar door with some girl on his arm, and finally land on the figure behind you, sliding a bowl of peanuts across the table to himself.

“Morales,” Santiago calls, and you throw the cues down on the felt.

“No, no way,” but your brother is already pushing past you to get to his friend. “Pope, no fucking w–”

Frankie turns, handful of nuts, cheek full and chewing.

“I gotta go, trouble at work. Can you do me a favor, man, ‘n make sure she gets home alright?”

“No,” you repeat. “He is not taking me home.”

“Baby,” Santi pleads, “just go with him, please?”

“I’ll walk. It’s, like, a twenty-minute walk.”

“No way. Mom would kill me.”

“Well, then, we just don’t tell her. Pope, please.”

He ignores you. “You are not walking home after dark. No.”

“Probably be safer than in the truck with him.”

Frankie’s head stops flitting between the two of you and his glare settles on yours. “Fuck you,” he spits, shaking his head.

“Right back at you,” you reply, insincere smile on your lips.

Santiago puts his palms together and holds them out to you. “Look, just – please. Just this once. I’ll owe you one.”

He doesn’t owe you one often. Makes a point of deliberately trying not to owe you one. This is an interesting offer. You sigh, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. You better fucking pay me back, though!”

“You got it,” he says, patting your shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he whispers to Frankie as he passes, slipping through the crowd toward the exit.

You and Frankie are left, two feet apart, filled with silence and resentment.

“You looking for someone else to hand your ass to you, lil Santi?” he asks, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“You’re funny.” You hand him a smile, which drops the second he looks at it.

But when you turn back to the table and lift the cues, you hand one to him. Push it into his chest, shoot him a narrow-eyed glance.

“One game. And only ‘cause I need a sub.”

He dusts his hands together, shrugs. “Shouldn’t take me too long.”

You stalk back over to Mal, who’s giggling into her glass. “You two are unbelievable.”

“Don’t.” You hold your hand up, taking another swig of beer as Frankie lines up.

On his first shot, he pots that same red you were trying to hit before. His eyes lift only for a second, but you catch the cocky look he throws you and screw your face up.

“Fucking…ass,” you whisper.

Frankie’s shoulders jump, his teeth take his bottom lip. He’s laughing to himself when he takes his next shot, and pots another stripe. And then he stands up straight, holds his hands out.

“Just tell me when.”

“When what?”

“To start going easy on you.”

Fuck off. Fuck off, fuck you, fuck this. Fuck!

One more ball potted and finally, fucking finally, he misses a shot. It’s an impossible shot, anyway, there’s no way in hell he was gonna make it, but that’s not what matters. What matters is the way you twirl your cue in your fingers, then lift it and wander around the table, squeezing between Frankie and the wooden edge to get to your shot.

Your ass brushes past his jeans, and when you turn your head to whisper a sarcastic Sorry, he fucking growls. Low, almost inaudible. But just enough for you to notice, and enough for you to keep pissing him off.

The buzz you’re getting from antagonizing him this much must awaken some sort of billiards skillset you never knew you fucking had, because you pocket four balls in quick succession. Red, then green, then blue, and purple. There’s one ball between you when Frankie rounds the table, eyes scanning the felt for the next best shot he can take.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you mutter as he passes by you, on his third lap of the table.

He tsks. “Impatient,” he replies, shoulder brushing yours heavily. You feel the rough denim of his jeans graze your thighs, the weight of him against your backside for the second time. You push back, leaning into him as he moves past, then leans over, slinks his cue between his fingers, and takes his shot.

The yellow sails into the nearest pocket like there’s a magnet pulling it. The purple does the exact same – he barely has to tap it with the tip of the cue and it’s dropping in atop its predecessor.

Frankie turns, shimmying a little up the table, hip nudging yours out of the way. “Move,” he mumbles, shutting one eye to aim for the black. “Come on…” he breathes, and then shoots.

It bounces off of the opposite side of the table, thudding off of the cushion before it’s rolling toward the pocket and dropping in with a plunk.

He stands, fixing his baseball cap, and leans the cue against the table. “Good game, loser,” he says, ruffling your hair as he passes you.

“What age are you?” you sneer as he wanders back off to his beer, waiting for him on the table next to his bowl of peanuts.

Will wraps an unsteady arm around your shoulder as Frankie tips his bottle against his lips. He’s swaying, dragging you left and right with him as if you’re on a boat.

“He’s…he’s always been the best outta us all,” Will slurs, using his bottle to point at Frankie. “’s why he’s such a good pilot. Good aim.”

You sigh, pushing his heavy arm off yourself and slip back over to Mal, who hands you a sad smile and fixes your hair.

“It was a good attempt,” she says.

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, tossing your bottle up and draining the last of it onto your tongue. “I need another drink.”

You cross the room, suddenly less blurry and tilted, more boring and flat, and lean over the bar. “Nick,” you call, and he twists around, “grab me another–”

“It’s alright, Nick,” a voice yells over your shoulder, “I think she’s good.”

You spin around and it’s that stupid fucking baseball cap and the stupid denim button up again.

“What, I’m not allowed to drink now?”

Frankie’s head cocks. “You don’t think you’ve had enough?”

“I’ve had three. Three beers. The fuck is your problem?”

He tuts, glances left and right, and then back to you. “I think I should get you home.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

“Are you this fucking difficult with everyone when you’re drunk?”

“Nope,” you beam at him, “just you.”

He lets go of the grip he has on your arm and starts backing away. “I’m leaving, baby,” he tells you, nodding goodbye to Nick. “You’re either coming, or Pope’s gonna hear all about it.”

You ball your fists, watching the door swing closed behind him. Your feet stay rooted to the ground, eyes flitting from the parking lot over to Mal, who lifts her arms in a question. You shake your head in response, and her shoulders drop.

Sorry, you mouth, beginning to walk off in Frankie’s footsteps.

Mal blows you a kiss, winks once, and then salutes you goodbye. You shoulder out of the bar.

The ride back to your parents’ place is silent, except for the dull drone of whatever fucking music Frankie has choking out of his radio. You watch your hometown pass by, never taking your eyes off of the blurry streetlights or passing mailboxes, refusing to turn your head further than the middle of the windscreen at him.

He’s humming along to the song, jaw swinging as he chews on gum, arm hanging out of his open window. Everything he does is so fucking irritating, like a constant buzzing in your ear, an eyelash stuck in your eye, the feeling of stepping on a wet floor in socks.

So why, every time you do sneak a glance of him out of your peripheral, does the sight of those focused brown eyes, the strands of gray in his beard, the way his curls flick under the brim of his cap – why does it all stir something inside of you?

Frankie pulls up across the street from your house, white wood a milky blue in the moonlight. You unbuckle your seatbelt and let the strap whip off of your body, rattling against the interior of the truck. The most you’re willing to offer him is a nod of the head in thanks, which he returns, and your fingers hook around the door latch.

“Hey, mind if I come in ‘n use your bathroom?” he asks.

You pause. “Uh, yeah. I mind. No.”

“Come on, baby, I gotta piss like a racehorse.”

You scoff, ignoring him and slip down out of the truck. The door slams closed and you wander over to your parents’ drive, hearing a second slam as you cross the street.

“Uh, where do you think you’re going?”

“If your mom knew you weren’t letting me use her bathroom, she’d kill you, ‘n you know it.”

“My mom doesn’t know you like I know you, asshole,” you retort, but he’s still following you to the front door. “Just – alright. Do me a favor and disinfect it once you’re done. I don’t need them coming home to piss all over the floor.”

“You think my aim’s that bad? Just schooled you in a game of pool.”

You sigh, refusing to rise, and open the door. There’s the gentle scuffing of claws on the wooden flooring, trotting nearer and nearer in the dark hallway, and then the weight of your childhood dog shoves into your body.

“Hi, Angie. Hi, girl,” you whisper, scratching the dog’s white fur, her front paws against your tummy.

She jumps down when Frankie slips in behind you, wandering over with her tail swinging back and forth. He crouches down and holds his hand out, cooing, “Hi, baby,” as she nuzzles against his palm.

“She likes most folks who come by,” you utter, hanging your coat over the banister. “Don’t think you’re special.”

“She always loved me most,” he says, still fussing over the pup, “didn’t you, girl? Yeah, yeah you did.”

You roll your eyes and wander upstairs, leaving Frankie to find the bathroom, use it, and fuck off on his own.

It’s been almost eight years since you last lived here, but your room still looks oddly similar. Same bedframe, different sheets. Same wallpaper, only not covered in posters of your favorite bands. Same shelves, too, just that they hold stuff like vases and seashells and other random ornaments your mom’s picked up, rather than a collection of your favorite movies or framed photos of you and your friends.

You pull your dress over your shoulders and kick your boots off, grabbing a tee from your bag to sleep in. The Nirvana logo lies loose across your chest, the hem dancing along the line of your panties.

As you kneel on the mattress, tossing the million and one fucking pillows your mom has stacked down to the foot of the bed, you hear the door creak open.

“Damn,” Frankie mutters, glancing around the room, “haven’t been in here since I was, what, seventeen?”

“Weren’t welcome then, still not welcome now.”

“You still got that Black Eyed Peas poster rolled up somewhere?” He’s walking in, boots scuffing along the wooden floor.

“Are you lost?”

He looks over to you, stood by the bed, t-shirt barely reaching your thighs. “You know something, you ‘n your brother are so fucking different, it amazes me you’re related.”

“I imagine there’s a lot that amazes you, dumbass.”

He scoffs. There’s a hint of genuine humor in it. Like he’s impressed. And then his eyes scan down your body, lingering on the bare skin of your legs, shifting up to the pink cotton of your panties. They shoot back up when you speak again.

“Seriously, dude. What are you still doing here?”

Frankie turns to the dresser by the window, adorned with framed pictures of you and Santi as kids. “Making sure you get home alright, like Pope told me to.”

“Well,” you shrug, “I’m home, ‘n I’m alright. So…”

He picks up a silver frame; inside, faded by the sun and years that have passed, lives a photograph of you and your brother. He’s on his BMX bike, wide, toothless grin, and you’re behind him, standing on the pegs and gripping onto his t-shirt sleeves as you battle not to fall off.

Frankie laughs a little, turning the frame to show you. “You were always so fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” And then, with a shake of his head as he sets the frame back down, “Still are.”

You cock your head, throwing your hands up with an infuriated sigh. “If I’m so annoying, then why are you still here?”

The look he gives when he turns back around answers that question for you, in a way that his words never could. Never would, to be honest. He’d never admit the thoughts running through his head right now, same as you won’t admit that, likewise, they’re running through yours.

It’d be fucking weird. It’d be wrong, hooking up with his best friend’s little sister. Santi only asked him to get you home safe, not follow you inside, walk straight into your bedroom, look at you the way he’s looking at you right now, silhouetted by the streetlight shining through your still-open shades.

So then, why can’t he walk away?

You make to step forward, and Frankie’s already moving. He meets you halfway, stood on some fancy-looking rug your mom probably spent too much money on, his arms instantly finding your waist underneath your short tee.

“You fuckin’ piss me off, you know that?”

“I know,” you breathe, bottom lip brushing against his, “I know.”

He pushes you backward, sends you stumbling across the floor on your toes until the back of your calves hit the mattress and you fall, dragging him down on top of you. You knock the baseball cap from his head and run your hands through his brown curls, pulling him nearer as his hands begin to move north under the worn cotton of your shirt.

His rough hands cup your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples as his lips fall to your neck, sucking a bruise into your soft skin.

“Frankie,” you breathe, “what the fuck are we–?”

“Shut up,” he whispers back, teeth grazing over your collarbone. He’s moving down, kissing over your tee as he goes, until he’s kneeling on the floor, your legs dangling off the bed either side of his body.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching him as he presses fleeting kisses to the insides of your thighs, making his way closer and closer to your center, covering ground painfully slow.

“Would you – just – fucking – get there?” you ask, head tilting back with a groan.

“Always so fucking impatient,” he mutters, pulling your legs further apart. “Makes sense, though,” he whispers, finger hooking around your underwear, “already so wet.”

“Dick,” you hiss, laying back flat on the bed.

Frankie holds the lace off of your core and then dips his jaw, lips lightly ghosting across your folds. You hum with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, ready to buck your hips up to him if it’ll just make him move faster.

But you don’t have to wait a second longer. He licks one broad stripe up your center, pressing one chaste kiss to your clit before his tongue dips where you need him most. Your legs go to clamp shut, stopped by his shoulders.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan, hand coming down to knot your fingers in his hair.

He hums against your pussy, tongue lapping inside you, nose at the perfect angle for you to rut your clit against.

“Fuck…” you repeat, and he fucking laughs against you. “Quit it,” you hiss, and he lifts his head.

Your eyes shoot open, finding his. Alarmed meeting cool.

“Fine,” he says, smirking. “I’ll quit it.”

“Don’t you fucking– Frankie.”

“Your words, baby.” He shrugs, eyes flitting down to your cunt, soaked under his touch.

“I didn’t mean it,” you moan. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He looks back up. The corners of his mouth pull his smirk into a grin. Some devilish grin, thick with arrogance.

“I’m an asshole,” he echoes, elastic of your panties shifting up to his knuckles.

He watches your cunt as he does it. Runs two fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal, dipping them deeper until they’re at your entrance.

Your head hits the bed heavily, your body writhing over the white sheets as he pushes closer and closer. His free hand comes up and pushes down on your tummy, holding you steady to the mattress, then –

“I’m the asshole.”

He inserts his fingers, curled, thick, stretching you out over his hand as he pushes in deep. A gasp passes through your lips, exchanging itself for a throaty moan when Frankie begins fucking you on his hand, lowering his lips to your clit again.

His wrist pumps in and out, tongue swirling over the swollen bud, palm pushing harder into your stomach to keep you from upsetting his rhythm with how badly you want to move around.

Your fingers lock a vice grip around his hair, your hips the only part of your body he’ll let you move. You establish a pace of your own, fucking up to meet his fingers, grinding yourself on his wet tongue.

“I’m close,” you pant, Nirvana logo distorted in ruffles at the base of your neck. “So fucking close, Frankie.”

And he can feel it. Feel you tightening around his hand, feel the rhythm of your hips start to miss beats, move clockwise instead of up and down. He can hear as your mouth stops rounding the words, fading into slurs and breaths and moans instead of coherent language.

“F-Frankie,” you cry out, and it’s like music to his ears. “’m there, I’m–”

“On my mouth, baby,” he mutters, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his lips again, tongue pushing inside you as you fall apart all over him.

Your back lifts from the bed, fists ball around his hair, pushing his face even harder against your cunt as you ride out your high. You’re moaning his name over and over, echoing off the walls of your little room, escaping out the door and swirling around the hallway.

If you could hear yourself, or cared enough to try, you’d feel fucking embarrassed at what you’re doing – coming apart under Frankie’s touch. It’s Frankie.

The same Frankie you started an argument with one Fourth of July over which was better: ketchup or mustard; the two of you spitting insults over the striped tablecloth, obscene hand gestures being thrown up over plates of burgers.

The same Frankie who’d found out it was you who drew on the wall, and from that day on used it as leverage anytime you set a foot out of line. Used it to shut you up, anytime you so much as thought about talking back, or ratting on the boys.

You’re supposed to hate him. Ask anyone – Santi, Mal, your parents. They’ll all say the same. Like cat and dog.

And yet, here you are. Begging him not to stop, keep his hands and his mouth on you; gasping for breath when he eventually lifts away from you and you collapse back into the bed.

You glance down from under heavy lids, watching as he kisses your thighs again, slowly bringing you back to the room. His chin’s glistening, covered in your cum, beard soaked in you.

You slowly sit up, holding yourself steady with two palms pushed into the mattress. Frankie readjusts your underwear and sits back on his heels, running a hand down his chin and wiping himself clean.

“That was…” you pant, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

He just nods, breathing heavy himself. “Yeah.”

“I gotta…I gotta let…Ange out,” you say, words swaddled by your breath.

Frankie nods again. “I should go.”

You stand at the same time, straightening up face to face. His right side is lit warmly by your bedside lamp, the brown of his eye reflecting a tiny yellow orb back at you; the left side is darker, flecks of hair lit in the pale light from the street, face dark and unreadable. Like he’s two different people, split down the middle now, a before and after.

You’re staring at one another, mapping every inch of the other’s face. Learning it, like it’s new. Like you’ve never really seen each other until right now.

And then he’s turning, picking his hat up from the floor in one swooping motion, and walking out of your bedroom. A deep sigh passes your lips as he goes, relief mixed with satisfaction. And then you follow.

Angie circles him when his boots thud down from the bottom step. He bends to give her more attention, waiting for you to softly pad down alongside him. The dog trots off toward the kitchen, and he turns to you.

He’s back to his unphased self, jaw circling around the gum that he’s still fucking chewing. “Two drinks you owe me, now, lil Santi.”

You cock your head. “Hm?”

“One for showing your ass at pool, ‘n another for that.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Morales.”

He snorts, wandering off down the hall. You spin on your heel and follow the sound of Ange scraping the back door, throwing a glance over your shoulder.

Frankie meets your eye, and like a reflex, the pair of you toss the finger to one another. He laughs, stepping out onto the porch.

“Anytime you feel like losing again, you know where I am, baby.”

----------

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#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #francisco morales #bbf!frankie #bbf!frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #enemies to lovers #frankie morales enemies to lovers

1K notes · View notes

lagomoz · 11 months ago

Text

Proseka headcanons

-as rui’s childhood friend, nene has extensive fire safety knowledge

-shizuku is adopted, hence why she looks so different from shiho. she was adopted shortly before the moon rabbit event and it contributed to her clinginess

-shiho forgets this fact sometimes. she’ll casually mention something like shizuku got all mom’s good genes so unfair and ichika has to be. um. shiho

-kanade is mildly nearsighted/myopic but spends so much time at her computer she hasn’t noticed

-emu is buff. she climbs multiple stories without breaking a sweat and is canonically part of the swimming, handball and rhythmic gymnastic clubs, you can’t tell me she doesn’t have some muscle

-saki helps out as a human notepad for tsukasa, reminding of him things he would otherwise forget within 5 minutes

-the vocaloids also help. at first it was unnerving to have hatsune miku be an extension of his psyche that knows his darkest secret (stole saki’s candy when he was 6) but now his phone has a more reliable catgirl themed reminder system

-you know that classic nightmare of leaving the house without pants? tsukasa has legitimately done that as a kid. he forgor. (saki will never let him live it down)

-in the kamiyama student council/hall monitor room, an has put up at sign saying “_ days since last kamishiro incident”

-the shinonome siblings both figured out the other one was gay before they figured it out about themselves

-airi’s great at trivia from her time as a variety show star. she still can’t beat minori at idol trivia, though

-ena keeps a diary with fort knox level security. try to read it and you’ll lose a finger

-saki learned to crochet from the old ladies in the hospital

-shiho’s most treasured phenny is a somewhat lumpy crocheted phenny holding a very lumpy crocheted bass guitar

-tsukasa snores. he falls asleep in 10 seconds and sounds like a dying lawnmower

-mizuki has learned a small bit of french from their sister and uses it exclusively to teach rui and an how to swear in french

-emu still celebrates her grandfather’s birthday, even if he’s not there to celebrate with her

-ena is allergic to dogs, the middle point to airi’s cat allergy and akito’s dog phobia

-rui has various small scars from his experiments over the years, but nobody ever believes the real causes (rocket launcher, robot bite, exploding balloon animal, etc.) so he just makes up a new cause every time someone asks

-mmj! has had repeated incidents of minori and airi’s little siblings walking into frame when streaming at their houses. shiho understands the concept of a livestream but has still been caught failing at creeping past like that one new broadcast of the guy crawling along the floor

-kanade has pots & eds, this one I have a reason for look at her symptoms. chronic exhaustion, heat and cold intolerance, comorbid sleep issues and depression, dizziness when standing up, fainting after standing up, very pale skin, family history of medical issues, pain at normal physical activities, exercise intolerance, vertigo at mild exertion, she just fucking dies during the entire baseball event, I could go on. she canonically gets pain in her hands from opening a jar girl that is not just being out of shape that is physical disability. this one I will go conspiracy board on listen to me I’m right

-kohane ate bugs as a kid. an is horrified, toya is confused, akito is impressed

-ena and airi got in trouble in middle school because they’d keep starting fist fights in defense of the others honor. if they saw the other in a fight they’d jump in guns blazing no hesitation no questions ask ready to throw the fuck down

-vbs!rin and len were given a skateboard by an and then promptly had the skateboard confiscated by meiko for property destruction

-haruka is horrible with slang. she asks the stream chat what poggers means and immediately uses it completely wrong, killing all viewers on impact

-minori is torn between thinking it’s cute and wanting to die

-toya has been banned from arcades before because he made them lose too much money/they suspected he was cheating

-ena brought kanade over for girls night and nearly scared akito half to death because he went down to get a late night snack and there was some Ghastly Creature looming in his kitchen

-kohane's parents stick out like a sore thumb when going to her live shows. it mortifies her that everyone on vivid street can recognize them as the only milquetoast middle aged couple dressed in normal clothes loudly going YOU'RE DOING GREAT SWEETIE that don't know the first thing about music

-minori knows basic programming. she mostly uses it for forums, blogs, html, other web design things usually related to idols as a hobby, but she's become the groups designated anti-shizuku tech support

-mafuyu has always been able to see ghosts but after adults figured she was just playing pretend as a kid so she shrugged and figured it was normal and not worth bringing up again

-honami has one of those massive extended families and somehow keeps track of them all. at any given time cousin #57 can crawl out of the woodwork and she remembers their new job, favorite food, past three romantic relationships and list of allergic reactions

-mizuki does doll customizing as a hobby. they prefer making human sized clothes, but it's fun to make them miniature too. they've introduced shizuku to it and she loves it, but doesn't have the heart to do anything that would hurt the doll (sawing limbs off, dunking them in boiling water, shoving wires in them, etc.)

999 notes · View notes

jenscx · 4 months ago

Text

[04] tumblr girls — daydreaming

it was cliché; being in love with danielle marsh, the straightest girl on earth. you thought your feelings were hopeless, until you discover her tumblr blog.

you pace back and forth in your room, heavy footsteps thudding against the hardwood floors. the incessant buzzing of your phone is the last thing you’re thinking of. in your mind, there was only one person who resides there. danielle likes someone, she likes her project partner. she likes you.

but unbeknownst to her, you had betrayed her trust and invaded her privacy to feed your curiosity. a thawing pain in your heart continues. would danielle be upset if she found out? what if you don’t tell her at all? yet, it didn’t feel right to keep it a secret. if danielle truly liked you, would she rid those feelings when she finds out what you had done?

it wasn’t meant to be like this. danielle was just someone out of reach. someone unachievable. you couldn’t have her. she’s way out of your league.

a series of knocks on your door pulls you out of your reverie. alarmed, you quickly go to open it, only to find heejin staring at you, unamused.

“i don’t know what you’re doing but,” she starts, “stop stomping around! kim hyunjin’s over right now and she thinks we have a ghost in our house!”

“i’m just thinking!” you push heejin out of your room, “and who’s kim hyunjin?”

judging by heejin’s red face, you could see through your sister’s facade immediately.

“you have a girl over? at this time? what if mom finds out?”

heejin swats at you, “i’m not doing anything with her! she’s just here to look at my paintings.”

you shoot her a glare. what the hell was she talking about when you had told her of your feelings towards danielle? she literally had love problems of her own. maybe you shouldn’t take advice from heejin, she was an anime nerd for god’s sake. sometimes she would even naruto run in the house— oh my goodness, you really should not take her advice.

“whatever, i’ll be quieter. go play with your jock,” you shoo her away. heejin says incredulously, “hyunjin’s not a stereotypical jock, she’s smart too! good at basketball and academics—” you close the door in her face, leaving you in the solitude of your own room and your thoughts. a blank white canvas fills your mind, envisioning nothing but emptiness. danielle marsh, your crush of how many years, has feelings for you too.

what were you meant to do now? even if you did confess, you would have to tell danielle that you knew of her crush and it would kill you to see the disappointment evident on her face. you groan loudly, almost collapsing on the floor in your dilemma. maybe you should sit down lest you faint. you hesitate to take another step, fearing that heejin might come stomping up again, demanding you rid yourself of your legs.

sunshinesza. sunshine, like her. it’s cliche, but she lights up your day whenever you catch a glimpse of her. when you had first noticed her in the hallway, you took that same route every day to class afterwards, just to see her. minji and hanni obviously had no clue why you were so adamant on taking the long way, but you had so easily convinced them with some gummy bears. you glance at your own laptop, the google tab staring blankly at you. your fingers act before you think, typing in tumblr.com and danielle’s user.

no new posts. you shouldn’t really expect much. the last one was flooded with supportive comments and people urging her to confess. you scrunch your nose, pondering on how it would be like to receive a heartfelt confession from danielle. would she stutter through? would her cheeks be splashed with redness? would she buy your favourite flowers?

your finger ultimately scrolls back to the top.

a resigned sigh escapes your lips as you flop back onto your bed. tempted to just text danielle about it, you end up giving into your inner thoughts.

jeon y/n [10.16pm]:

hi danielle, ik it’s kind of late

but i was wondering

would you like to go to this dog cafe?

i heard you like dogs, so…

heard, yeah right. your stalking of her tumblr blog had revealed her immense love for animals almost immediately. supported by the numerous presentations she gave in class on animals, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

her reply comes almost instantly.

danielle [10.16pm]:

omg!

really?

yes!!!! <3

the heart. that emoticon. you feel your own heart seconds away from bursting with affection.

jeon y/n [10.17pm]:

okay!

we could go on wed?

school’s closed that day

minji told me ^^

danielle [10.18pm]:

sure!!!!

how does minji know?

i didn’t know u were close to minji..

jeon y/n [10.18pm]:

minji’s in stuco!

oh we’ve been friends for a long time

hanni joined us after transferring from australia

danielle doesn’t respond anymore, only leaving you with a ‘delivered’. you wonder if you said something wrong. was it about minji? danielle didn’t seem to like her that much.

she eventually replies before you start to wallow in your grief.

danielle [10.25pm]:

oh cool

so, see u soon?

you swallow up your anxiety and fear.

jeon y/n [10.26pm]:

see you! <3

your head falls onto your pillow pathetically.

danielle has heard the phrase ‘spring has arrived’ countless times in the various dramas she’s watched. it’s an extremely popular line that more often than not, is taken figuratively. of course it could mean literally that spring has arrived, but it’s more commonly used as a reference to when someone has experienced the first bloom of romance in their life. the swarm of butterflies attacking their stomach, the giddiness and immense sense of euphoria, the excitement and nervousness of it all. at least that’s what an intensive amount of shows and books told her.

she has never experienced something like that. countless boys, all awkwardly cute in their own way, stumbling up to her with roses and a stuttered out confession. she has never reacted to them with extreme happiness, only sending them a strained smile and a polite rejection. even in australia, no boy has managed to capture her heart. sure, some of them were good-looking and conventionally handsome. yet, she hasn’t found someone attractive. danielle never expected any differently when she moved to korea. after a hectic move, her mother had sent her off to middle school.

exhilarated eyes and a bright smile, danielle marched on in the hallways of her school, greeting everyone cheerfully. stares had trailed after her, wondering, who was this new kid?

maybe danielle had been a tad bit too excited on her first day. she just really wanted to make a good impression so that she could have friends! her mother reminded her to keep an eye out for any potential trouble. fifteen and carefree, danielle obviously did not heed her words and went about her day talking to everyone but herself.

“hi! i’m dani!” she introduced herself, a wide grin on her face. the girl looked up slowly, unimpressed.

“i’m haerin,” the girl, haerin, replied in awkward english. it was extremely butchered, but danielle appreciated the sentiment.

“my korean name’s jihye,” she smiles even bigger, “can we be friends? i transferred here from australia.” the cat-eyed girl nods, eyes glued onto danielle, as if scanning her.

haerin then gestures to the seat next to her, a small smile on her face, “you can sit next to me.”

she was danielle’s first friend, and the only friend she really needed (other than hyein, of course. danielle would be caught dead if hyein found out she said that). needless to say, the australian never found much purpose in befriending others when she had haerin. her best friend was a listener, an observer, perfectly contrasting danielle’s rapid fire rants. haerin and her fit perfectly, in her opinion. and no one really came close to rivalling haerin’s spot of being danielle’s favourite person.

yet, at sixteen, spring had arrived in the form of her literature classmate.

“who’s that?” danielle whispered to haerin. the girl wakes up from her nap, eyes roaming across the class before landing on the girl danielle was pointing at.

haerin, thoroughly disturbed by the interruptance of her nap, answered, “jeon y/n. she was from the other block.”

danielle nodded, eyes as wide as saucers and her gaze stuck onto her new infatuation’s back like bubblegum. your hair fell by the side, exposing your look of concentration. a pen was caught between your lips, nibbling it as your eyebrows furrowed. danielle didn’t feel any of the butterflies or immediate affection. this wasn’t the love she was taught. it was almost like time had slowed down, leaving her to bask in your afterglow. her throat dried up and feeling an intense need to hydrate herself, she did so. while gulping down her water, your eyes glanced back, meeting hers for a fraction of a second.

no, her version of love wasn’t like anything else. it was the crinkle in your eyes as she choked violently on her water and the amused look you gave her after.

spring had arrived for danielle at sixteen, and it wouldn’t leave for another few more decades.

throughout her school life, danielle had kept a watchful eye on you. sometimes, if she’s lucky, you might spare her a glance, but only for a second before looking away hurriedly. danielle thought you hated her guts so much you couldn’t even stand the sight of her. genuinely distressed by this, she had immediately claimed the seat in the front, hoping she might feel your gaze every once in a while, even if it was to look at the whiteboard.

even after becoming a cheerleader, which danielle guessed was a high rank in her school’s hierarchy, she still couldn’t help but let her gaze follow your strides through the school. you had never shown up to the games and maybe danielle was deluded to think you had no point to, not interested in any of the charming jocks on court. her mind had pointed out maybe you weren’t interested in cheerleaders like danielle either, but she focused on the positives.

her only chances to see you was during class or during lunch, neither of which were particularly viable for her long-term yearning but hey, she’s a cheerful girl who looks on the bright side. surprisingly, even with your features and sweet personality, no one really approached you. danielle counts that as a win. maybe it was because people didn’t really know what to expect from someone like you. quiet, yet extroverted with friends. smart, but silly at times (danielle really liked you when you were acting silly). was it a blessing for no one else to take up your time other than danielle?

she’s never felt this way before. definitely not for those boys with captivating smirks and dreamy eyes. she only feels the longingness to be by your side, she yearned to just be in the proximity of your comfort, to be on the receiving end of your endearing smile. she’s so incredibly curious about you. she wants to know everything that makes you you. she’s curious about your music taste. she’s curious about the way your mind works. she’s curious about your late night thoughts and how they make you feel. she’s curious about every single thing about you.

isn’t that what love is?

you make her so vulnerable without trying. has she ever crossed your mind at least once? danielle thinks her vulnerability means love. to submit wholly, with dedication and devotion. she wants to disclose everything about herself to you, just to feel the closeness of your soul. how will she ever know what love is?

maybe it’s the fact she doesn’t feel like she’s betraying a part of herself to keep pretending.

she knows how it feels to be looked at differently.

the thirteen year old girl in her heart remembers the look of disgust when her friends in australia saw two boys holding hands.

would she experience that again? even though she wasn’t on the receiving end, she still felt tears well up. she knew who she was. optimistic, sure, but if nature doesn’t have a single thing that blooms all year, how could danielle do the same?

you make her weak. she wants to know everything about you. and if receiving your affection meant revulsion and exclusion from others, danielle would gladly suffer for your hand.

she truly believes she hasn’t lived some of her life’s best days. she hasn’t seen it all, hasn’t felt it all. maybe that is what’s keeping her so upbeat all the time. the chance of experiencing something better tomorrow than today, the possibility that her life might change for the better in an instant. she wants to live all her best days with you.

maybe she wore her heart on her sleeve for so long because she knew that someone like you would be so soft and gentle with it.

you conquer all thoughts in her mind. she’s never met someone so alluring. maybe it’s the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you make her feel inside. maybe it’s your eyes or even your smile, danielle doesn’t know it herself.

she’s attracted to you like opposite poles of a magnet.

danielle marsh dreams of you, and only you.

you quickly swallow the piece of bread in your mouth when you spot danielle standing by your desk.

“danielle,” you call out, cheeks still stuffed. your face only heats up when danielle giggles, “morning y/n.”

she’s holding a lunchbox.

the same my melody lunchbox as before.

“i made dakgangjeong for you,” she mutters shyly, a bashful smile spreading across her face, “you mentioned that you liked it before.”

dakgangjeong, sweet crispy fried chicken. your crush made more food for you. was she an angel who came down to earth?

“really?” you ask, surprised and mouth agape, “oh my god, i could marry you right now.”

“oh!” she laughs, “i mean, we’re a bit too young to get married don’t you think?”

you facepalm yourself internally, wondering why you blurted out a marriage proposal to danielle. thankfully, the girl didn’t seem to mind that much, maybe it was a reach but she actually seemed to like it?

(she did. danielle was just a better actress than you).

“sorry, i was just— sorry. i didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

danielle only chuckles. you feel a bit guilty for knowing the true reason she’s been treating you so well. so maybe you weren’t so deluded after all. or maybe a mysterious genie is just granting anybody’s wishes now.

“uh,” you turn away to hide your blush, “what are you going to wear tomorrow?”

the girl pauses, thinking.

“i haven’t decided, but i’ll text you later?” danielle tilts her head like an adorable puppy. you didn’t realise how close she was before. her close proximity catches you off guard and you almost fling the lunchbox in the air when she leaves a lingering touch on your skin, making goosebumps rise across your arm.

“great, uhm, yeah— awesome,” you mutter. your friends stare at you, an apathetic and maybe sympathetic gaze.

danielle shoots one of her god gifted smiles, the one which exposes all of her pearly whites and a hint of her tongue. it stretches across her face and you’re left admiring her like she’s a deity.

“talk to you later? class is about to start.”

you nod, distrustful of your voice. if you weren’t careful, you might squeak at her or do something even more embarrassing. oh my god, what if you manage to humiliate yourself so badly danielle gets the ick and stops liking you? maybe you should shut up from now on.

the girl hops back to her seat. you’re rooted in the same spot, a hushed whisper from hanni asking you to sit down breaking your stare.

“you’re giving me second-hand embarrassment,” minji says, her face contorted into faux disgust. hanni’s own rivals hers.

you wonder how is it that even after knowing danielle likes you back, it seems like she still has the upper hand on you?

masterlist | next

#tumblr girls ft. mjh #newjeans x reader #danielle marsh x reader #danielle x reader #mo jihye x reader #jihye x reader

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thriftingfreak · 7 months ago

Text

Is it casual now?

Pairing: Luke x Reader

Warnings: Illusions to sex

Summary: You’re supposed to be friends with benefits but someone caught feelings. Based on Casual by Chappell Roan.

—————————————————————————————————————

“I love you but you’re a loser” Clarisse said, shaking her head at you.

“I know I’m stupid” You looked down, picking at your fingers. The shame rose in your chest. How could you let this drag on for so long?

You couldn’t get away from him. Hanging around even though rumors hung even higher in the air. It was sickening really how you let him walk all over you like a welcome mat. But you’ve known him for so long and his mom loves you.

It was easy to fall back and remember where it all started, how soft his lips felt when they first touched yours.

“Baby, no attachment” Luke had whispered in your ear. He’d go on to kiss your forehead and then your ear and go down. All the way.

Yet it never was casual. Not for you, at least.

Your eyes always managed to meet from across the field and nothing ever could settle the feeling in your heart.

Always waiting one step behind him, longing.

Your heart ached for more, more of him. More of you.

A note found itself slipped in your backpack. You met Luke in the Hermes cabin that night when every camper had been gone at a campfire event.

“We can’t stay here for too long, Chris and Betty will be wondering where I went.”

Your heart jolted at hearing about the girl Luke had been seeing. A daughter of Aphrodite, she was everything you were not.

But all you did was nod and move in closer. Your body heat stuck to his while you two did what you always did.

And after it was all over he would kiss your forehead before putting his clothes back on and leaving. Just like every other time.

__________________________________________

“You know, there have been some, uh rumors going around” Lily, Luke’s half sister, turned to you.

The fire crackled and you looked up to meet her gaze.

“What kind of rumors?”

She sighed and reached out to grab your hand, “Some campers have been saying that you and Luke are dating.” You could feel your heart start to pound.

“I-“

“But he said that all you two had done was sleep together.”

The pounding in your heart sank, “What?” you whispered.

Of course you were just some girl Luke was banging. That’s all you would ever be.

Even after the rumors and whispers and what Luke had said, you still fell asleep that night dreaming of living with Luke in some shitty apartment. You could water the flowers and make breakfast in the morning but none of it mattered.

Yet the next time during capture the flag, he found you in the woods.

“Hey” He grinned.

“Hi” You brushed past him, desperate to get away.

“Woah girlie, what’s wrong?” He grabbed your hand.

The anger rose in your chest.

Shaking him off you snapped at him, “I’m just some girl you bang? Or is that what you told Chris and Lily?”

A dumbfounded look crossed his face, “Why are you upset? You know I wanted something casual.”

You have never felt more stupid in your life. It was you who agreed to be casual. It was you who followed him around like a love sick puppy dog. It was you who left your favorite bra among his things. Because maybe if he saw it, he would want you as something more.

“I guess I thought I meant more to you” You shook your head. The leaves crunched beneath your shoes as you walked away. It was a beautiful day but you couldn’t enjoy it with the ringing in your ears.

“We’re not together!” He shouted.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you whipped around at him, “Go to hell.” You were done holding your tounge trying to act cool.

It seemed as if your fate was always to catch his eye from across the room even after your quarrel. It was the one thing that would never go away.

It didn’t matter how many times you stained your pillow with tears or sobbed to Clarisse about how much you liked him.

No amount of space would make him want a relationship with you. He wouldn’t scream from the rooftops about how he loved you. He’d bounce around whether it be Betty or the next girl.

You never did get your favorite bra back.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #pjo #pjo tv show #hermes cabin #percy jackson

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dellalyra · 1 year ago

Note

Gojo, who just for ONCE, ends up somehow cooking an actual meal. A meal that doesn't seem poisonous or sweet in any way. That is actually edible. And now everyone is just having a mixed range of emotions because how and why has he just cooked something edible? (And idk its somehow pure coincidence that this has occured or he literally followed a recipe but reader keeps throwing things at him to check its still her husband and it just keeps hitting him cause he hasn't turned on infinity)

This seems like a long request so do not feel obligated to do this ajfnejc

ɪᴍᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇʀ? - 𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴

pixie says: this was so fun to write oh my god! i love this idea sm, i hope you like it too!!

Eggs. Parmesan. Linguine. Pancetta. Salt. Pepper.

Surely, this couldn’t be too hard? He could definitely do this. He’s the strongest sorcerer alive - he definitely can conquer a carbonara for his wife. He clicks his fingers and curses disintegrate, so that means he’s going to make the best dinner ever. At least, that’s his logic.

He usually brought you out to eat for your birthday, but he decided he’d treat you to a Satoru Gojo Michelin Star meal at home with the kids tonight.

He could do this.

He won’t be defeated.

Not by pasta.

Tsumiki and you had been to the salon to get your nails done (Satoru’s treat) and Megumi hung around the nearby book store until you both were done - stating that he didn’t want his nails done this time because they got chipped when he played with his dogs.

“Mama.” She says, eyes fixated ahead of her.

Pulling up to the cottage, you listen to the boy in the backseat tell you about the book he picked up. You notice Tsumiki freeze beside you.

“Tsumiki? What’s wrong? What do you - oh, shit.” You saw it mid sentence. The kitchen light was on and you could see the silhouette of your husband through the curtains.

“Mom? ‘Miki? What’s wrong? Is it a curse? With this treasure - ” Megumi starts from behind you.

“Papa’s in the kitchen.” His sister responds.

“Fuck.” The 13 year old responds, utilising the deal that they can swear as long as it’s just around family.

“We gotta go.” You take the key from the ignition and vault out of your seat, using speed Megumi had only ever seen when he came to minor missions with you.

You whip open the kitchen door and you’re immediately greeted with a smell.

And not the scent of smoke and melted rubber you expect from seeing your husband in the kitchen.

The smell was… really good.

And you recognised it immediately as your favourite meal.

The kids skid in behind you and go through the same motions.

“There’s no fire.” Tsumiki states.

“Are we sure it’s dad? Maybe uncle Nanamin came over?” Megumi asks.

“We do Kooking with Kento on Thursday, and it’s Saturday. I’m pretty sure he’s on a date tonight anyway.” You whisper, toeing off your shoes and slowly creeping to the kitchen.

As you round the corner, you see your husband in your floral apron singing along to music from the speaker - music you recognise as your wedding playlist from 3 months ago.

The kitchen is clean. There’s no fire. No food on the ceiling. The utensils all seem to be intact and the oven door is still attached and the counter tops aren’t melted (all things Satoru’s cooking has caused).

He spins around.

“Princess! There’s my birthday girl! Let’s see those nails! You too ‘Miki!” You both hold out your hands, still surveying the room - Megumi walks in with the fire extinguisher.

“Oh these are so pretty, ‘Miki! Purple is a very nice colour on you.” He says, looking at her fingers as she smiles at him. Charming bastard.

He turns to yours next.

“Princess, these are beautiful! I love the shiny bits on the blue!” He says, meaning the chrome on the baby blue acrylics.

“Thank you, ‘toru. But… what’s going on?” You say, kissing him on the cheek.

“I made dinner! It’s your favourite! C’mon, everyone go sit at the table.” He smiles and swats you all with the cloth he’s holding and you all go sit at the table.

“What is happening.” You breathe out.

He comes over, somehow balancing four bowls.

“Et voila! Bone apple feet!” He says, placing the dishes in front of you all and sitting beside you, pouring you a glass of white wine.

The food… looks incredible. Creamy, silky and perfectly cooked and presented like you’d see in a restaurant.

You grab your fork and twirl some pasta onto it, tentatively putting a bite into you mouth.

You freeze.

Not in the way you usually freeze when you’re eating his home cooked meals.

But because it’s so fucking delicious.

You turn to look at him as you swallow and see him smiling at you, glasses removed onto the table.

“Who are you?” You ask.

“Satoru Gojo - clan head of the Gojo’s, wielder of the six eyes and limitless, husband to The Dryad and father of two gremlins.” He smiles, cocky as ever.

You poke his cheek.

“You’re not an illusion?”

“Nope! In the flesh!”

You ball up a napkin and toss it at him. Hitting him square on the nose.

“Eh?! Excuse you, madam!” He exclaims, hands on his hips.

You grab a piece of bread from the basket on the table and throw that at him too. By now, Tsumiki is laughing and Megumi is smirking at the sight before him.

“Woman! Quit throwing stuff at me!” He says, tossing the bread back at you.

“Not until I’m sure you’re not a curse with the abilities of a chef who has replaced my husband. My husband can’t cook, and this is the best carbonara I’ve ever tasted.” You see his eyes light up as you say that.

“Of course it’s the best! I made it!” He retorts, digging into his food.

You blink for a moment.

“How did you do this?” You ask.

“So I put the pasta in some water, cooked the pancetta- ”

“No - my ‘toru can’t cook to save his life.”

“Rude! I make amazing hot chocolate!”

“You actually did this? By yourself? From scratch?” You grab his cheeks and turn his face to look at you.

“Yeah! Followed a video on YouTube.”

You slammed your lips onto his, and feel him smirk into the kiss.

“Get a damn room!” Megumi mutters.

“Stop it, Megumi - they’re so cute. I hope my boyfriend will do things like that for me.” Tsumiki replies, scolding her sibling before her voice took on a dreamy quality exclusive to a teenage girl.

“I’ll be sure to tell Kaito from your class that you like homemade food.” He says, snickering and teasing her with the knowledge of her crush on the boy.

“Shut it, sea urchin!”

“Oi! You two! It’s your momma’s birthday, you can bully each other tomorrow.” Satoru directs to them.

He looks at you are you’re smiling a big, glittery smile at him which makes his heart skip a beat.

“This is so amazing, ‘toru. Thank you so much for everything. I love you so much.” You say as you fling your arms around his neck.

“Anything for you, Princess.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #family formations extras #dad!gojo

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 1 year ago

Text

Girls’ Night

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: Y/N wants to try out some girly hobbies with the boys

A/N: this one turned out so short 😅. But I still think it’s pretty cute.

“I want some nail polish.”

Dean put down the pie he was holding and turned to look at the ten year old leaning on the cart.

“Nail polish? What for, baby?”

“To paint nails,” you said in a ‘duh’ tone.

“Ok…” Dean was surprised by the sudden request, but still. wandered over to the beauty section. “Pick a color.”

“What color do you want?”

Dean scoffed, “Who cares? It’s not for me?”

The silence that followed was awkward, to say the least. “Honey? That’s not for me, is it?”

You huffed, “I wanna practice on someone else!”

“No no no, you’re not gonna-“ Dean stopped. “Alright, when did Sam teach you the puppy dog eyes?” He groaned. “Ok, but you’re using this.” Dean held up a bottle of clear nail polish.

“I gotta do some in color, Dean!” You protested.

“Ok, one can be black, but that’s it, ok? I’m not walking around like some emo goth Ken doll.”

You grinned, “Deal.”

…

“Hey, not bad,” Dean held up his hand for you to see his nails, and you grinned.

“Sammy, come see!”

“No no, wait-“ Dean tried to stop you, but it was too late.

“Ok, ok, it’s not that funny,” Dean groaned as Sam doubled over laughing.

“Oh yes it is. Smile!”

Dean was too late to hide his painted nails from the camera.

…

“What are you doing?” Sam tried to turn his head when he felt you tugging at his hair, but your cry of protest made him freeze.

“I’m trying to learn how to braid, now stay still,” you instructed.

“You’re…braiding my hair?” Sam wriggled in his seat, but ultimately decided to leave you alone. “Hey kiddo, can I ask you something?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled, your eyebrows drawn together in concentration as you worked on Sam’s hair.

“What’s with the sudden interest in this stuff?”

You were silent for several long moments.

“The girls talk about it.”

“What?” Sam asked, confused.

“At lunch, at school,” you explained. “Katie talks about getting her nails done with her mom, and Priscilla always has some kind of new braid that her mom did up for her. Sometimes the girls braid each other’s hair before going out, but I…” you sighed, sounding frustrated. “But I don’t know how to do that.”

“Oh,” Sam wasn’t quite sure what to say. He hadn’t grown up with a mom either, but it was different for him. He didn’t miss out in the same way you did.

Dean, who’d been standing in the doorway listening, made a mental note to learn how to braid hair so that you could go to school with your hair up like you wanted it. He remained silent though, wanting to let you and Sam have your moment.

“Done!” You announced, grinning as you put your hands down.

“What? No way,” Sam was incredulous. “You couldn’t have gotten a braid in it, It’s not long enough for that!”

Dean finally decided to make his presence known, pulling out his phone as he stepped into the room.

“Oh yes it is. Smile!”

Dean printed the image out and hung it up right next to the image of him with his painted nails, and the brothers never let each other forget those moments.

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jburrgf · 26 days ago

Text

Prudence Girl.

We could stay alone, you and me and this temptation, sipping on your lips hanging on by thread.

pairing: joe burrow lsu x reader (becoming enemies to lovers)

summary: after a year at LSU, your best friend finally convinces you apply to be a prudence girl.

description: college life, frat party, kiss

—————————————————————

It was a relief to be far from home. From Ohio in general.

Now, I have to put up with my best friend, Tracy Evans, rambling about the fraternity and sorority homecoming at LSU and how much she’d love to be part of Prudence.

Prudence, by the way, is a sorority mostly run by a clique of cheerleaders. They all live in a huge house, practically Republican HQ, where they throw parties almost every week.

I find it cosmic and weird that the name is also a condom brand. But hey, no judgments here.

“We have to go, y/n.” Tracy grabs my shoulders, shaking them. “We can’t miss this!”

“Freshmen can’t miss it, and we’re not freshmen,” I say, winking at her. “At least, not technically. I still feel like one, tho.”

Tracy rolls her green eyes. “That’s where you’re wrong, y/n. It’s not just freshmen who can’t skip out. Prudence pledges can’t either.”

“And why does that matter to us?” I ask, frowning.

“Because, my dear, if we pass tonight’s initiation, we’ll be Prudence pledges,” she says, winking as my jaw slowly drops. “I signed us both up.”

“You what?” I get up from my chair, furious. “If you want to be a Prudence Girl, Tracy, go ahead, but don’t drag me into it!”

Tracy rolls her eyes again. “Don’t be dramatic,” she says, stroking my cheek. “You don’t have to go through initiation if you don’t want to, or even join Prudence. I just want your company, you know, moral support and stuff.”

With her puppy-dog eyes on me, it was impossible to refuse. Sighing heavily, I nodded.

“You owe me, Tracy Evans!” I growl, grabbing my black jacket and throwing it over a white T-shirt that says, “Don’t look at my tits, perv” as I leave the room.

I walked across the dorm with a scowl on my face. Sure, it’s good to be away from home, but it’s not like Cincinatti is a paradise. It’s not even close.

“Hey, y/LN!” I turned my head to the left, where Alyssa Powell was calling me. “Love the shirt.”

I roll my eyes with a faint smile. “What’s up, Powell?”

Me and Alyssa knew each other from the hallways of LSU. She wasn't like a friend of mine, but she was cool to talk to.

“I need ya’ help, y/n,” she says, biting her lip. “You know I don’t get along with Abby Griffin, right?”

“I think the whole campus knows, after she grabbed the principal’s megaphone and announced she’d make your life hell.” Aly grins at the memory. “Go on.”

“I need a reason to stay in Prudence,” she continues. “And a great reason would be to mentor a pledge during initiation. And I saw your name on the list…”

Oh, no.

“Aly… Look, you’re awesome, smart, funny…extraordinary!” Aly smiles, blushing. “But no way.”

“Why not?” She pouts. Oh boy, here come the sad faces again.

“Because I have zero interest in being part of Prudence,” I reply, tucking a strand of curls behind her ear. “Mentor Tracy. She really wants to join you guys.”

Aly sighs. “She already has a mentor,” she says, her voice pleading. “Abby made sure every pledge had one before I could even consider it. I’m surprised you don’t have one yet.”

“Oh, that’s simple. I hate every Prudence Girl,” I say, shrugging. “Including you. But I hate you with love, you know?”

I watch Alyssa laugh, throwing her head back.

“Y/n, look, I wouldn’t be here begging if it wasn’t important,” she says, grabbing my hands. “My mom graduated as a Prudence Girl, so did my aunt, and my older sister. It’s a family thing, you know? I can’t screw it up just because the leader hates me for sleeping with Joe.”

“Wait, what?”

I had no idea about it. Fresh gossip, I guess?

Joe Burrow was the new sensation on campus for the last six months. He was QB1 from the LSU Tigers and didn't lose any games in the regular season — at least not until now. I didn't know that guy very well, and honestly, I like it that way. I'm not into jocks, especially the ones with massive egos.

“Yeah. She doesn’t like me because I hooked up with her boyfriend once, that’s all,” she says, shrugging. “Please, y/n…”

I stare into her brown eyes, at her wild curls and clothes far too bold for a university.

“Okay. On one condition,” I say, watching her smile grow wider and wider.

“Anything!”

“I want a room with Tracy, just the two of us. That, or no deal!” I cross my arms.

“Deal!”

[…]

When I return to my dorm, Tracy is there, jumping around to an ‘80s song, dressed in pink leggings, a black crop top, leg warmers, and a headband holding back her blonde hair. She looked ridiculous. Ridiculously beautiful.

“What the hell are you doing, Evans?” I ask, climbing the bunk bed ladder. If joining Prudence means having my own bed on the floor, it might be worth it.

“Aerobics,” she says, smiling. “I do it every day after class for two hours. It’s exhausting, but it works.”.

“You should try it.”

“No thanks. I prefer my soft butt,” I say sarcastically. “Oh, by the way, I’m doing the initiation and becoming a Prudence Girl.”

“What? Why?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be happy?” I frown.

“I am, of course I am,” she smiles. “But why? You were so set against it this morning.”

I sigh. “Alyssa Powell asked me,” I shrug. “If she’s not my mentor, Abby Griffin will kick her out of Prudence.”

.“Remind me to thank her later.”

I lay back on my pillow, thinking about what it would be like to share a house with dozens of girls. Rent is $100, slightly less than the dorm, but that’s not reason enough to join a sorority.

“How does this initiation work, anyway?” I ask.

“It’s really simple, almost childish,” she says, rolling her eyes. “The guys eat or drink something, then kiss us. If we guess what it was, we’re in.”

“Seriously? That’s it?”

“Almost childish, like I said,” she grins.

Then it hits me. “Wait! Guys? What guys?”

“What other guys, silly? Prudence Girls kiss Prudence Boys,” Tracy bites her lip. “I can’t wait to kiss one of them.”

I rub my face with both hands, already regretting agreeing to this mess.

“I bet you can’t.”

[…]

Prudence House was packed, full of students. Nobody cared that it was the initiation for the new Prudence pledges because it was one of the most anticipated parties of the year—alongside the Prudence fraternity’s homecoming, the Kappa farewell, and the random Acacia parties, all of them Republican houses.

Tracy made me wear one of her dresses, shorter and tighter than I had imagined. My best friend did my makeup and hair, not because I can’t get ready on my own, but because I take forever doing it.

In just an hour, I was perfectly ready, waiting for the campus lights to go out and the pink lights of the Prudence sorority, in the back street, to take over. The house was ridiculously large—after all, it housed almost thirty girls—with many rooms, many bathrooms, and a huge party hall. It was in this hall that I stopped to observe the beige walls.

“Stop looking at things like that, you look like a child,” Tracy murmured, elbowing me.

“Sorry, mom,” I teased, hiding a smile. “This place feels like a museum.”

Tracy didn’t respond, maybe because she agreed or maybe because Abby Griffin was making her way toward us, looking determined.

Abby Griffin was the type of girl with queen bee energy. And she really was, technically. For the past two years, she was the “Prudence Queen”. I never knew how we became friends — actually, I didn’t even have the idea that she knew who I was.

“Y/n y/ln, I presume,” she said, eyeing me with superiority. “Alyssa’s new recruit.”

“In the flesh,” I smiled at her.

“The initiation will start shortly, in the backyard. If you're late, you’re out.” I could see in her eyes she wanted to add "along with Alyssa," but she held back.

“We’ll be there.”

Tracy squeezed my hand and pulled me outside in a matter of seconds, making me roll my eyes dramatically.

When we arrived outside, a line of women stretched across the lawn, their nervous and anxious faces clearly marking them as potential pledges. Everything would depend on a stupid kiss from a guy.

Alyssa found me when I got to the end of the line; including Tracy and me, there were twelve of us, the maximum number allowed per semester. Aly smiled and held my hands.

“Your room is already reserved,” she whispered. Aly glanced around, checking the area before leaning in to whisper, “Coffee candy and mint gum.” To disguise her words, Aly gave me a quick peck. “See you later, Prudence Girl.”

I held back the urge to groan that "Prudence Girl" and "Prudence Boy" sounded like names for a girl group and boy band—and they also actively reminded me of condoms, of course. I could make that joke later, after surviving the initiation just because a fling had kindly asked me to.

Tracy watched us with a smile; a nod from her confirmed she had heard what Aly said.

I would call this cheating if I cared about this whole mess.

“Welcome, everyone—brothers, sisters, pledges, and nosy students,” Abby Griffin began, silencing the crowd. “Tonight, we’ll be welcoming our new sisters—those who, of course, pass the initiation.”

Tracy squeezed my hand. Sneaky little thing.

“The initiation is as follows: we have a dozen Prudence Boys here, but you won’t see them until after you've kissed them.” At that, each mentor handed their pledge a black blindfold and placed it over our eyes. “Each guy has tasted something different—maybe a strawberry, maybe whipped cream, maybe vodka... Your job, during the kiss, is to figure out what was in his mouth before he kissed you. Good luck.”

Apparently, a line of twelve boys stood in front of us, aligned like we were. But we wouldn’t be kissed all at once.

I had to endure the sounds of sloppy kisses for several long minutes, along with guesses of foods or drinks—all of them correct.

Tracy squeezed my hand one last time before letting go.

It was her turn.

More kissing sounds, longer than usual. I rolled my eyes beneath the blindfold.

“Coffee candy!” Tracy shouted, earning applause and cheers.

Now it was my turn.

I felt the approach of someone who smelled of cheap cologne and sweat, and I automatically grimaced. This was clearly Abby’s doing.

But before the guy could mess up my night, a voice stopped him.

“Step aside, Oliver.” The body heat from the boy faded as he stepped away, and someone else approached. This one smelled of Dior Savage and coconut shampoo, and I honestly like it more. “She deserves someone better.”

“And you’re that someone better, Burrow?” Oliver, I assumed, yelled.

There was no response. Instead, soft lips covered mine, kissing me gently, while a hand slid to my neck, holding me in place, at his mercy.

An overwhelming sense of déjà vu hit me.

But his mouth didn’t taste like mint gum. Oliver surely would have, but this intruder had interfered.

I didn’t know whether to thank him for sparing me from the sweaty guy or curse him for confusing my mind.

I was still being kissed. His lips pressed lovingly against mine, and at the end of that affectionate wildness, three soft pecks were left as his hand released my neck.

Oh, crap. Crap, crap, crap.

The once-noisy crowd had gone completely silent. Not a single person was saying anything.

Nothing. Not even a whisper.

I focused on the taste left in my mouth, where his tongue had roamed freely.

“What the hell was that, Burrow?” Abby yelled, probably storming toward us.

I didn’t dare remove my blindfold, afraid of what I’d see. Of who I’d see.

“You weren’t supposed to kiss her!” Abby continued.

Someone leaned toward me, and from the scent, it was him again.

“Do you have a boyfriend, darling?” he asked with the sweetest voice he could do it.

“No.”

“Then yes, I can kiss you.” I pressed my lips together as they argued.

“No, you can’t! You took Olly’s place!” Abby shouted back.

I cleared my throat, embarrassed.

“Chocolate,” I suddenly said, silencing them. “You ate chocolate before...”

A soft gasp escaped the boy, low and pleading, before his mouth claimed mine again.

Oh my God...

“Joseph Burrow!” Abby shrieked, furious, while the boy ignored her completely, more interested in caressing my lips with his own.

Damn, this feels so good!

A strand of my hair was tucked behind my ear as my lips were reluctantly released.

“Congratulations, Ohio girl. You’re a Prudence Girl now.”

I felt like I could faint at any moment, but I didn’t remove the blindfold, because I knew who I’d see if I did, and I wasn’t ready for that.

#joeburrow #joey burrow #joe shiesty #nfl #cincinnati bengals #joseph lee burrow #nfl imagine #Spotify

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its-time-to-write · 11 months ago

Text

just a short little Thanksgiving blurb for all my American girlies 🥰🦃

ours

You force yourself back to the present, where your twelve year-old cousin is updating you on the latest middle school drama.

“…and that’s why boys named Max are a red flag, but dogs named Max are not,” she concludes.

You giggle and nod appropriately, taking a sip from your drink. The house is filled with the entire family this Thanksgiving and while it’s pleasantly crowded, it still feels like a part of you is missing.

Your phone is securely in your bag, a tactic to try to keep yourself from replaying highlights from the England match from the previous weekend. Every other WAG got to go support their man, but you were stuck in America with pre-Thanksgiving work. Thanksgiving has only been going on for twenty minutes, and you’re ready to call it and go home.

International dating is hard.

Your mom can tell, so she’s been giving you tasks to do all day. She must’ve told your grandma or maybe she’s just incredibly observant, because she’s picked up the mantle as well and neither of them give you enough time to be alone with your thoughts.

It’s nice of them, except now the family’s here and everyone’s asking about your boyfriend. They don’t care that he’s a footballer (in the best way) and they’re all excited for you, but you wish he were here.

Maybe you can sneak upstairs and call him.

You do some quick math and realize he should be asleep so you sigh and ask your cousin if she wants to come with you to steal macaroni and cheese.

She smiles and says, “Yes, duh.”

“It’s going to be tricky,” you warn. “My mom and your mom are going to be on the lookout.”

“I bet Grandpa will sneak us some,” she reminds you. Oh yes, Grandpa would do anything for his granddaughters.

You grab her hand and weave through aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters, cousins and a few other relatives. You’re pretty sure this is the biggest Thanksgiving you’ve ever had.

You and your cousin successfully get your hands on two bowls of mac and cheese, and slip away to an unoccupied corner to eat it.

You’re smiling and not thinking about Jamie at all. This is your favorite cousin, the one who’s eleven years younger than you, but you two have been doing dumb shit together since she could talk.

You’re almost done when someone slides into your space, pressing their arm against yours. Your cousin’s eyes widen as she looks at you and you turn, expecting to see an aunt or god-forbid one of your snitch brothers.

Instead, you’re met with blue eyes and a familiar smile.

You choke on your last bite of food as you launch yourself into Jamie’s arms.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, refusing to let go of him. “You have a match this weekend.”

He shrugs, still smiling. “Ah, you know, gotta be culturally sensitive with my American girlfriend, babe. Milestones and all that.”

You raise an eyebrow. There’s no way Roy let him go with that excuse.

“Or I might have injured meself at the match last week and am out of training for two weeks,” Jamie says.

“You’re hurt?” you exclaim. “Why didn’t you call me? Should you have been on a plane? What happened?”

You’ve inadvertently tightened your grip around Jamie’s neck, so he reaches up to remove your hands, still keeping them in his. He lifts them up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“I’m fine. Just my ankle. But I figured, who not come surprise ya?”

“Does my mom know you’re here?”

Jamie’s grin turns cocky. “Called your mum and dad three days ago. I’m staying in their guest room, ain’t I? Got in this morning before you lot showed up.”

Your cousin has been watching this scene a little open-mouthed the whole time. “I wish my boyfriend would do that for me,” she murmurs.

Your head snaps over to her. “Your what,” you say to her and she holds her hands up defensively.

“Oh look it’s your English boyfriend who flew all the way to America for Thanksgiving, why don’t you kiss him some more?” she deflects, and Jamie shoots her a wink and tilts your face up for a kiss so your cousin can get away.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you tell him. “Oh my gosh, we’re going to have the BEST time. Get ready to have your mind blown, little British boy.”

“Anything for you, Miss America,” he teases. “Just don’t make me try those mushroom things I saw, looked fucking awful, that.”

You pull a shocked face. “Oh but it’s tradition. Everyone has to suffer through my uncle Darren’s gross stuffed mushrooms at least once. And since you’re new here…” you trail off.

Jamie grimaces while you giggle and run a hand through his hair. God, you can’t believe he’s here and while you aren’t thrilled he’s injured, maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

“C’mon,” you say, tugging him to the kitchen. “I want to go yell at mom and dad for not telling me you were coming.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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me-loving-woso · 1 year ago

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Rebuilding the Family aka Monthly visits Part 4

Hey! Okay, I know I have been MIA for more than two months, BUT you have to be proud of me because I finished another part of Monthly visits AND started part 2 of Bruises Apologies and Cookies. This is Part 4 of Monthly visits I hope you enjoy. It's not proofread but I wanted to give y'all something. These are the previous Chapters: Monthly visits, Meeting the Family, The Aftermath

“Alexia?” Your hand dropped from the door knob to your side. You were definitely surprised to see her.

“Hi.” She greets you shyly, so timidly that you can’t recognize her voice. You cross your arms, waiting for her to continue. “Is it a bad time? Should I come some other time? I can totally come tomorrow, maybe at a more decent time. I should go-“

“Alexia, slow down. You are rambling. Do you want to come in? This is your house too, and you might miss Nala.” You offer her. She gave you a shy smile and entered her home.

“I missed it here. The hotel room sucked.” She says tiredly, yawning. You could see from her face that she hadn’t slept much. You figured that she has probably been on the plane or in an airport these past two days.

“How long have you been awake?” You ask her worriedly while she kneels on the floor, reuniting with her dog after so much.

She looks at her watch, which her father used to wear, “52 hours now.” She says, looking at you. “I missed you so much, Y/n. I’m really sorry about all of it. I know I have much explaining to do, and you probably have much, if not more, to say to me. But the last two days have been pretty intense. And I really need a hug, please.” She looks at you, nearly begging for it, with glassy eyes.

“Come here.” She puts down the little dog and almost runs towards you, putting her arms on your neck, trying to keep you as close as possible for at least a minute.

“I’m really sorry. Do you hate me now?”

You remove her from your embrace, cupping her face. “I could never hate you, okay? Now, we have many things to discuss, and you, woman, you have a lot of making up to do. And not the sex type, okay?” You whisper, not wanting to wake up the kids. She puts her hands on top of yours and nods, pulling your foreheads together.

Then you push her, maybe a little too harshly, making her look at you extremely confused. “And this is because you went MIA for two days after storming out of a match. Power move, by the way. But you made me extremely worried. I nearly booked a flight to New Zealand because of you.” You point your finger at her.

“My phone died just before I went to the airport. I’m sorry if I worried you.” She apologizes, looking at the floor.

“I’ll text your mom, sister, and our teammates that you are safe, here with me.” She nods, yawning again.

“Alexia, you should go to sleep. You are exhausted.”

“But we have to talk; I need to make it right. I need-“She pleads.

“No buts. Now you go to sleep; tomorrow, when you are more rested, we will talk about everything, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll go to the hotel down the street and call you tomorrow?” She asks, hopeful.

“Have you already booked the room?”

“What?”

“Have you already booked the room at the hotel?”

“No, I didn’t. Hopefully, they have a spare room for me.” She says, scratching her eyes, making you smile at her cuteness. You always loved it when she was tired. She was less composed and in control and more herself.

“Stay here.” You say earnestly. “I bet you miss your bed and old clothes; I just cleaned your favorite shirt, which you wear only on special occasions. Plus, this is your house, too. You shouldn’t sleep in a hotel.”

“Only if you are okay with it. And the kids, of course. How are they, by the way?”

“They are great; Ava misses you a lot.”

“Lucia?”

“She’s a little mad that you left me and didn’t say goodbye to them. She’s just very protective, but she’ll come around. We’ll talk more about it later. Now go to sleep, Ale.”

She goes up the stairs but stops midway, “Aren’t you coming?”

“Do you want some company while you get ready to bed?” You joke.

“Always.” She smiles, making you go into the bedroom with her. While she goes in the shower, you sit on the edge of the bed, texting everyone that Alexia is here with you and there is nothing to worry about.

As soon as she leaves the bathroom, you see her with half-dried hair, only with some shorts and her shirt on. She goes on the edge of her part of the bed and gets inside the sheets, making you turn your body to look at her.

“Goodnight Alexia.” You stand up, not knowing what to do; it was the second time you didn’t sleep on the same bed, the first time being when you stole the keys to the pitch.

“Wait, where are you sleeping?”

“On the couch with Nala.”

“But I thought-“

“I can’t sleep with you, Alexia; we need to discuss what happened with Vilda and us. I’m still mad and hurt. So tomorrow, the kids will probably be out all morning, so that is when we’ll talk if that’s what you want.”

“That��s all I want.”

“Then it’s settled. Goodnight.”

“Night.” You give her a last look, and then you go downstairs.

The following day, you wake up early with an ache from sleeping on the couch all over your body. The first thing you do is to silently check on Alexia; you find her still sleeping, hugging your pillow. You leave her a note saying that you will be going soon and coming back in approximately an hour.

You bring Ava to Nico, who offered to take Ava out after yesterday’s casual visit from Alexia so that you could talk properly with her. Meanwhile, Lucia would be going to the pitch again because she wanted to start the season with Barcelona B prepared and in shape. You admired her dedication, even though you told her it was unnecessary.

As soon as you got home, past 10 am, you found Alexia with a cup of coffee in her hand while she was scrolling through some news on her tablet; this felt very familiar, making you not know how to feel. This thought was soon interrupted by Nala, who ran to you, waiting for cuddles; this made Alexia turn around to you and smile.

“Good Morning.”

“Good Morning to you, too.” You picked up the dog and gave her some food, then went to the kitchen, putting the car keys on the countertop.

“If you want, there is some coffee left.” She informs you while you rummage through your cabinets, trying to find a mug.

“I really missed your coffee.” You say, looking at her, sitting down in front of her, “You can’t cook for shit, but you always know how to make great coffee.”

“I can cook!” She says, offended.

“We both know that you can cook only two dishes.” You chuckle.

“Okay, that’s true.” She agrees, chuckling, then turning the conversation into a very awkward silence.

Both of you hated confrontation, so this was going to be interesting. You knew that you had to talk, or else you could risk losing each other, which neither of you was looking forward to, but simultaneously, you didn’t want to have any uncomfortable conversations.

“Y/-“

“Alex-“You both say at the same time, stopping, trying to make the other speak. This was going to be complicated.

“You go.” You offer.

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “I just wanted to apologize for everything. I’m so sorry. What I did was shitty and cowardly.” She says, keeping her face as open as possible.

“You just did what you felt was right at that moment. I mean, the timing was a little bad. Really bad. But you did what you thought was right.”

“I realized something while I was away.”

“What?”

“I remember that some time ago, a really bad interviewer asked me who did I play for. Initially, I didn’t reply because I thought it was a weird question to ask, which completely discredits my career. But when I came home, I thought about it and realized I didn’t know. I know that when my dad died, I played for him and dedicated everything to him, and I still do. But somewhere along the way, I realized I don’t know anymore. Since I won the Ballon d’Or, everybody wanted to talk to me and wanted me to perform and play in a certain way. Still, after returning from my ACL, the expectations were even higher. How was I supposed to play freely when everybody wanted me to play another way? In all honesty, I was in some way jealous of you. You didn’t change, and if someone pressured you, you would tell them to fuck off or wouldn’t listen to them. What really grounded me was that I could come back home to you, and everything was normal and good. You gave me stability in my hectic life. And when we got the kids, I-“

“So now it’s the kids’ fault? Don’t blame it on them or me, okay?” You say a little defensively. “I gave you a choice and gave you an out many times, and you signed the fucking custody papers with me, so don’t tell me that you weren’t given any choice or some other excuse.” You cross your arms, waiting for her to speak up, while she sighs defeated.

“It’s not that, Y/n; I always wanted to have kids, you know that. I always knew that I wanted kids with you, and I don’t blame it on the kids or you. I only blame it on myself. Okay? I feel like shit; I swore to you that I would never leave you.”

“No, you don’t get it, you made me feel like I was back again with my parents, and they told me to fuck off and to never show up again and gave me no explanation. I felt like I did something wrong. I have been dying inside since you left me, trying to understand why. It felt like you took me for granted.” You say vulnerably, trying to keep your emotions at bay, something the person in front of you was failing.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so selfish. I-I didn’t think about that.” She says now, wiping her tears away from her eyes. You always hated it when she cried. “I’m such an idiot. I know I fucked up Y/n. I was trying to say that I realized that my family is the only people I have to care about and be accountable for my actions. And you are my family. You and the kids. And I’m really sorry that I haven’t figured it out sooner. But I’ll do whatever it takes to make you believe that and trust me again.”

“Took you long enough.” You chuckle wetly, her little speech making you emotional; nobody has ever told you that you were their family or part of one.

“Please tell me that is not too late.” She asks pleading.

“That is up to you.” You say earnestly. “My priority now is the kids. And I need you to show me that I will be one of your priorities and that I’m not taken for granted, and what you did won’t happen again because I don’t think I could survive that.”

“I’ll do anything. I’ll leave football if you want me to. You are too important and the only thing that matters.” She says desperately, but you could see that she wasn’t lying, and that was all that you needed to hear.

“Okay, maybe nothing that extreme. But you’ll have to make it up to me properly.” You give her a playful smirk. “You can start by taking me on a date. I want to be wooed and be given flowers. If you want me, you’ll have to start again from the beginning. Clean slate. And this doesn’t mean that everything is forgotten.”

She smiled shyly, nodding, but you could see she was happy you had given her a second chance. “Let’s see if you still have some game after nearly four years.” You tease her, winking.

“Oh, I definitely do.” She says confidently, making you shake your head in awe.

“Now, come here. I missed you, Amorcito.” You say not containing yourself anymore. You were glad that you managed to clear the air with Alexia. Even though you knew that it wouldn’t be like before, you were taking those steps in the right direction. “You made me worry so much during the match.” You say while she rounds the table and sits on your lap. You hug her sides and put your head on her chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am.” She kisses you on the top of your head, bringing you closer.

“Are you sure?” You whisper.

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Let’s get on the couch first.” She stands up, takes your hand, and leads you to the living room. She sat between your legs and began telling you what happened during the World Cup. How Jorge was always trying to blame the team if his ideas weren’t working, and how he would always target Alexia, making little comments about how since she broke her ACL, she wasn’t playing the same, and that if it weren’t for her popularity, he wouldn’t have even put her on the roster. To ‘punish’ her, he stripped her of her role as team captain, stating that her leadership wasn’t needed.

“I totally disagree with that,” you say, getting angrier as she continues talking.

“I didn’t know what to think anymore, and I started believing in what he was saying. We were underperforming, and for him, I was the one to blame, even though we were in eleven to play in a match.”

Then she explained to you what happened in the match against the USA. The morale in the squad was already low, and in all that, he began guilt-tripping the players.

“As soon as the final whistle blew, everyone was sad, but I felt relieved; I finally didn’t have to endure that anymore. I went to drink some water, and he snatched the bottle from me; I think he told me I didn’t deserve to drink because I disappointed the whole nation, and I laughed at his face. He grabbed my arm, and he began insulting me and telling me every little thing I did wrong. Then Ona and Aitana approached us and tried to understand what was happening. I didn’t want them to be involved or that Jorge would begin releasing his anger on them, so I tried to push them away, but they wouldn’t budge.”

“They tried to protect you.” You explain, stating the obvious.

“I know, but unintentionally, they made it worse. He started getting personal, telling me nobody cared about me and that if you cared about me, you would’ve been here. And that nobody gives a shit about me, if not for my status. I laughed at him and walked out.” She says without displaying any emotions whatsoever.

“He’s such an asshole. You don’t have to believe him a bit. You are a great player and a great person. Nobody should ever doubt that, okay?”

She nods, still with some uncertainty in her eyes. You take her face in your hands and make her look at you. “Okay?” You say emphatically.

“Okay.” She smiles at you, then sinks into your embrace, trying to find comfort.

“So, how are the kids?” You smile at her question and begin to tell her everything that happened. How they met some of your teammates, Mapi, and especially what Lucia had told everybody.

“And then she told Paños, Patri, and Claudia that I was a better mom this month than her real mother had been in sixteen years. And I don’t know Alexia, but I felt like what I did, what we did for them, was worth all of it, from the social workers to building a bedroom from our closet. I felt so happy. And you know, it gave me the hope that maybe I can be a good mom for them.” You say hopefully, feeling a little embarrassed. You hide your face in the crook of her neck.

“Of course, you are a great mom and don’t have to be ashamed. Carry it with pride.” She says to you proudly, caressing your cheek. “I hope that someday I could be that for them too.”

“You will. Kids love you.” You say earnestly. “Oh, and by the way, I think Lucia might have a secret boyfriend.”

“Wait, what?” She removes herself from your embrace and sits with her legs crossed on the couch before you, grinning curiously.

“She always goes to bed early, never wants me to train with her at the pitch, always hides her phone notifications from me, even though I never look at her phone screen, and she seems happier.”

“But how?”

“I genuinely don’t know. Or maybe she’s tired of me and doesn’t want me around for training. Those are the two options. I genuinely don’t know which one to hope for.” She chuckles.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad. You were sixteen too once.”

“Oh, shut up; you know I didn’t do relationships when I was younger. If it’s actually true, though, I think I will have a mental breakdown.”

“You are so dramatic. By the way, I love this worried mom look that you have on right now.” She pokes your sides while you blush.

“You’ll have to deal with him.” You say, pointing your finger at her.

“Okay, I will, just for you.” She chuckles. “I really missed this. It’s good to be home.” She says seriously, taking your hands.

“Take me on a date first, woman!” You give a gentle slap to her hands and put them on your sides.

“I will. I will pull all of my tricks. Open the car door for you, get you flowers, and walk you to your door.”

“So cliché.” You roll your eyes.

“Don’t act as if you don’t like it.” She teases you.

You talked until it was time to get the girls home. It was good to finally have her back. You missed talking and laughing with her so much. You finally felt normal, full. And even though you both knew that there was still some making up to do and that it was best not to go back immediately to your old relationship, this start made you hopeful.

“Ale, I have to go now.” You say, smiling, while she tightens your embrace around your sides, not making you leave.

“No! I just have you back! I don’t want you to leave.” She says pouting.

“You are talking like you haven’t seen me in ten years.” You chuckle. “It has only been a month!”

“But it has been a very long month!” She says pouting.

“You have to go to your mom and sister; they were worried sick about you. And I have to pick up the kids.”

“Okay, but tomorrow I’ll pick you up for our date.”

“Oh wow, aren’t we confident?” “What if I am not available tomorrow? I might have something else to do.” You tease her.

“Like what?” She grins.

“I might have another date to go to. You know, I am a very highly wanted woman.” You joke.

She frowns, looking at you, crossing her arms. “No, you don’t! Right?” She asks you insecurely.

“No, I don’t.” You chuckle while standing up from the couch, wanting to get ready.

“When will I see the kids?” She asks shyly.

“Whenever you want to. But if it’s okay with you, I’d like to wait after our date.”

“I’m okay with whatever you want.”

“I have to go now.” You say, walking to her and stopping a meter away from her.

“So tomorrow?”

“I’ll let you know.” You give her a wink. “Goodbye Ale. You can go whenever you are ready. I’ll see you soon.”

When both the girls are in the car, you explain to them that Alexia will be back. She won’t live in the same house as you now, but she’ll still come around. Ava was thrilled to hear that; you knew she missed Ale a lot, whereas Lucia would scoff or roll her eyes whenever you talked about Alexia. You first noticed this at the beginning of the World Cup, and you didn’t know whether to confront her about it or ignore it.

After you told Mapi about everything with Alexia the next day, she offered to stay over to watch Ava, as Lucia didn’t need much to be taken care of.

It was 5pm, and you were a little nervous. She didn’t tell you where you would go, so you didn’t know how to dress or what to expect.Thankfully she sent you a text.

‘We are going somewhere to eat. I know that you are probably freaking out because you don’t know where we are going or how to dress. Dress comfy and casual. I know that you hate dressing up.’

You chuckled at the fact that she seemed to be reading your thoughts.

You decided to go for some shorts and a top, and in the meantime, while you waited, you went downstairs. You had the house all by yourself, which meant that you could do anything you wanted, with nobody judging, that is, working on the 1000-piece puzzle that you and the girls decided to start three days ago.

You were shit at puzzling. You knew that. The girls knew that. Everybody knew that. But stubborn as you are, you decided to prove everyone wrong.

Thank god that your attempt to puzzle was stopped by a car parking and your doorbell. You open the door and find Alexia with flowers hiding her smile.

“Hello.” She says shyly, giving you the flowers; you find her so adorable that you almost cannot keep yourself from kissing her. She gives you the flowers.

“Thank you.” You make her come inside your home and put them in a vase with water, not wanting to ruin them. “So where are we going?”

“Patience.” She chuckles at your excitement.

“Ugh. I hate surprises.”

“No, you love them, but you hate being at the center of the attention or not being in control.”

“Stop it. I hate that you know me too well.”

“After three years of relationship, it would be weird if I didn’t.”

You smile, agreeing, then ask her, “Do you want to take Nala?”

“It’s better if we don’t; we are going in an indoor place. We can leave her to my mom’s house.”

As you left your house, you went to Alexia’s car; she opened the door for you and closed it, then hopped in and began driving.

She had both hands on the steering wheel, which was something new, as she would always take your hand or put it on your thigh. She watched the road when you took her hand, making her snap out of her trance and look at you. You put both hands on your thigh, making her smile at your action, then resuming looking at the road. Her hand never left yours, and you got it back when the night ended.

As you saw the car turning right to a pub, you squealed happily. “No, you didn’t!”

“I did.” She replies, wearing a proud smile.

“We haven’t been here in so long!” You add, hugging her arm.

“I know! We should’ve come here more often. That is why I decided to bring you here. This place means so much to us.”

You remember going to this pub for the first time after your first date with Alexia. It was a beach day trip; you had brought food, playing cards, and books. It was a beautiful date; you loved going to the beach and going together made it a plus. What you didn’t expect was the rain. You had planned to stay there also for dinner, but the weather made other plans, so you both ran to your car laughing, and after a while of wandering around the streets, you found this pub. It was old and broke many hygiene standards, but you didn’t care. You were hungry and wanted a place to stay for when the rain would stop. What actually made you fall in love with the place wasn’t the fact that the owners were crazy as fuck or that there was a pool table available. It was their impromptu karaoke/stand-up comedy nights.

The first time you went there, there was this guy you didn’t even know the name of who would sing or tell jokes while nobody was listening. He was bad. Like really bad. He would sing the most complicated songs: Amy Winehouse, Beyoncé, Celine Dion, all of them. On your date with Alexia, as soon as you heard him sing for the first time, your hope for a nice, quiet evening was thrown away. His bad singing skills caught you so off guard that you nearly spit all your drink on Alexia, choking on your drink, throwing a fit of coughs, making you go to the bathroom. Thank god he didn’t see you.

As soon as you got back to the table, you both burst out laughing and decided to invent a story around his persona: he had a really weird 80s-style haircut, so you named him John Travolta, but since he was Spanish, his name was Juan Travolta. He was a very important accountant for many big companies but burnt out all his money on pony races and dog beauty contests. Leaving him with crushing debts, he decided to live off his wild passion: entertain others. After his fantastic performance of ‘My Heart Will Go On’, he began ‘the second part of the night’, as he claimed. Which was stand-up comedy/improv. For the few people in the pub, you and Alexia were the only ones listening, too curious not to do that. It was your second drink, and you found it hard to not stop yourself from laughing at the absurdity of all of it; while Alexia was giving you kicks under the table, trying to make you stop, it only made it worse.

Somehow, his comedy was even worse than his singing. He would try to make some jokes, but they never landed. Once, he even tried to memorize the monologue of a famous comedian, but that still didn’t do the trick. You figured he wasn’t cut out to be a comedian or a singer, but you appreciated his resilience and confidence. You wish that you had his confidence.

Since that first time at the pub, it had become yours and Alexia’s place. You would go there for date nights, when you wanted to have a laugh or when you wanted to be left alone. And even though the entertainment was shitty, the food was borderline poisonous, and the drinks were questionable, it had become a tradition for the both of you to go there whenever you went on a beach trip. It wasn’t the greatest place, but it was your place, and the memories you made there were ones you would cherish for the rest of your life. There, Alexia asked you to be her girlfriend, and you asked her to move in with you. It was a special place for your relationship with her, so Alexia knew what she did when she brought you there for your date.

“Wait. Do you know if Juan Travolta still performs here?” You grin excitedly.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Alexia parks the car, and you don’t even wait for her to open the door for you, so you exit the car almost immediately. You quickly took her hand and dragged her inside. The place was exactly the same as it was the last time. Squicky floor, the same weird old owner behind the bar, and there he was. Juan. You smile excitedly, turning to Alexia, who rolls her eyes happily. Then you both sit at your usual table. You ordered some drinks and something to eat. While you waited for your order, you listened to Juan, who you thought was improving, shocking the both of you. Still, then he tried to make a high-pitched voice for a part of a song, and you realized that he was just as bad as you remembered him to be.

“I want him to sing at my wedding.” You say, clearly forgetting you were talking to the person you probably would marry.

“We are not making him perform at our wedding.” She says sternly.

“Our wedding?” You tease her, making her slightly blush.

“Yes, our wedding.” She says confidently.

“Where’s the ring, then?” You chuckle.

“Patience.” She remarks, making your heart flutter.

“If it’s not Juan, you would probably want Rosalia at our wedding; you are obsessed with her.”

“I am not.”

“Oh, you do. And what is more concerning is that she would probably say yes, she loves you.” You add. “But Juan Travolta, for me, is still my first choice.”

It was good to be back with Alexia; you hadn’t had a date night in so long, and you finally felt normal again with her by your side. There were just some people that whenever you are with them, it just feels right. Like they are a small part of you. And even when you want to be alone with your thoughts, you don’t care if they are there because they belong with you. And that person was for you, Alexia. And in the same place you were in that very moment, a year before you realized that she was the only one it was worth spending your life with, and after that, you continuously left a piece of your heart for her to encompass and make it hers.

As soon as you finished eating, you both decided to have a shot at the pool table. Juan had just finished singing and now told some really bad and pathetic jokes.

“So, are we placing any bets?” You grin competitively.

“We can do that if you want.” She says, rounding the pool table and putting all the balls in the triangle.

“If I win, which I will, I want you to make me coffee for two weeks.”

“I can bring you coffee every day, but if I win, which I will, you’ll have to give me a back massage.”

“I can be okay with that. You know that I’m low-key obsessed with your back and all of your tattoos. It won’t be a problem.”

“And dye your hair purple.” She chuckles.

“Oh hell nah.”

“So you are walking out on the bet?” She asks competitively.

“Never. You’ll just have to lose. Simple as that.”

The competition was on. The pool table was isolated from the rest of the pub, meaning you could cheat a little. Your plan was to distract Alexia. A very challenging plan. Your captain had a mind and focus of steel.

It was your turn now, and Alexia was wearing her usual cocky smirk that would infuriate you at how good-looking it was. Fortunately for you, you were able to make two balls enter the hole, but then you missed. It was Alexia’s turn now. You were down one ball, but not for long. You casually walked towards her and saw her bend on the pool table, trying to take aim. You took your chance. You put your hand on her lower back under her shirt, and then you lean in, whispering in her ear. “If I remember correctly, you always loved bending like this for me, but you always had fewer clothes on than now.” You smirk, leaving a kiss behind her ear.

“Y/n.” She cautioned you reprimanding.

“What? I am just stating a fact. Come on, do your shot.” You smirk, leaving her a little flustered. She takes in a deep breath, but then you put your hand on her side, slowly going down. She took aim again, but she missed the shot, making you give her a mischievous smirk. Both of your competitive natures were about to arise, and that meant that Alexia would be playing dirty, too.

“I thought you had a nerve of steel, capitana.” You remark, making her look at you slightly annoyed.

“You started something, Y/n; I’m going to end it.”

It was your turn now, and you were hoping that Alexia wouldn’t be doing something that would make you not focus. You were ready to take aim when she basically put her whole front to your back, putting her hands inside your t-shirt and slowly massaging right under your breasts, “You are wearing this little top; that is making me crazy. So much skin to touch, I don’t know where to put my hands.”

She whispers, making your brain completely numb and very hazy. She smirked at your reaction, then quickly moved away from you, leaning on the pool table to your left, “Now, come on. Do your shot.” She repeats the same thing that you said before. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, trying to take her out of your mind, but it is too late; the 8 ball goes in, and you lose the game. She wins.

“Fuck.” She chuckles, making a little bow and making you roll your eyes.

“You’ll get ’em next time.” She teases.

“I can’t even say that you cheated because I did it before you.” You hunch your back, defeated. “So purple?” you add.

“Yep. And a back massage.”

“No coffee?”

“Since I am a wonderful person and I am the bigger person, I can still bring you coffee. I would hate to see you sad that you lost your bet.” She says, trying to conceal a smile, “You poor loser.” She says while caressing your head, giving you some comfort. You slap her hand away from you, “I might be a sore loser, but you, Alexia Putellas, you are an asshole.”

“Well, this asshole is better than you at pool.”

“I want a rematch.”

“Maybe next time. It’s getting late.” The night was going so well that you totally forgot about the time. It was 10pm, and you promised Ava to be there for bedtime.

So you quickly exited the pub and went in the car. Without hesitation, Alexia put her hand on your thigh and drove. In the car, you began reminiscing about the places you went together and gossiped about your neighbors.

As soon as you got home, she walked you to the door and waited hesitatingly. “So you want to come in to say hi to the kids? They’ll love to see you.” You offer.

“Are you sure?” She smiles, hoping for a positive response.

“Come inside.” You take her by the hand and go inside your house with her. In the living room, you saw Mapi exhausted on the couch while Ava was sleeping with her head on her lap, and Lucia was nowhere to be found.

As soon as you went inside the living room, Mapi turned to see you, then she gently moved Ava and went to greet you. You went into the kitchen to not make noise. There, Mapi slaps Alexia on the shoulder, making her recoil.

“What was this for?” She whispers, annoyed.

Your best friend points the finger at her. “This. It’s for going MIA for two days without saying anything AND leaving Y/n. What were you thinking?” She pushes Alexia’s head with her fingers.

“Maria.” You look at her sternly.

“I’m sorry, Mapi, for everything. I was in a really weird place mentally, but now I’m good.” You could see that she was a little more convinced. “Can I have a hug? I haven’t seen you in a while now!” The two friends hugged and then began to catch up. After a while, your friend said goodbye and left, not without thanking her for what she did.

“I’m taking Ava to bed. Do you want to come with me?”

She slowly nods at your offer, and you both go to your living room. Lucia was still outside, which made you and Alexia share puzzled looks with each other.

You wake up Ava and tell her it’s time to bed. She slowly opened her eyelids and looked around, blinking twice when she saw Alexia.

“Alexia!” She says excitedly, still very sleepy.

“Hi, mi nena, let’s go to bed, it’s very late.” She says, smiling, caressing her cheek. She makes grabby hands for the older woman to pick her up, which she gladly does, always wearing her biggest smile; she probably missed the girls very much.

She picks her up and takes her to her bed. She then tucks the bed sheets, and you hear them converse.

“Go to sleep, Ava.” She says, looking at her like she is the world’s most precious thing.

“Will you come tomorrow?”

“Yes, I will. I’ll come whenever you want me to. Now go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night.”

She exits her room and closes it, walking towards you.

“She really missed you.” You say to her while she hugs you on the side.

“I missed her too. But where is the other one? Is she still on the phone?”

“No, she just ended it; I’ll go to her.” You go outside, and you call out her name.

“Lucia?” You ask while she is still looking at her phone.

She jumps at your voice, nearly throwing her phone.

“Oh hey, Y/n!” She says as if she were caught red-handed.

“Do you want to come in inside? It’s getting cold.” You offer her.

“Okay.” She comes inside, gives an awkward wave at Alexia, and then goes to her room, saying goodnight to you before closing the door.

You turn around to Alexia, “She is definitely hiding something.”

“So for tomorrow.” She had her hands behind her back. She had this cute little habit when she was shying away from asking permission for something. You took her hands from behind her back and laced them with yours.

“Why are you getting so shy all of a sudden?” You chuckle, making her blush.

“I told Ava that I would be coming over tomorrow morning because she wouldn’t sleep if not. So, I was trying to ask you if I could come over?”

“Of course you can. You have to make me coffee.” You remark as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Then I should get going.” She says awkwardly, clearly not wanting to leave.

“You can always stay over for the night.” You push her more towards you, leaving only a few centimeters. “I really enjoyed the date. We went to our place, we played pool, and tomorrow morning, you have to be here, so why not?” You offer. She begins giving you kisses all over your face, minus the lips, on the cheeks, forehead, chin, and jawline. You really missed her kisses.

“No.” She looks at you, making you give her a puzzled look. “I want to do things the right way, and I don’t want to rush anything.” She gives you a kiss on the nose. “Plus, on a first date, you never ask someone to stay the night!” Making you chuckle. “You wait at least for the third date. On the first date, you only ask for one thing…”

You knew where this was going; she was going to ask you for a kiss. “What do you ask for?”

“For a kiss.” She states, getting all shy again. Then, her gaze softens, and her voice becomes serious. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, you can.” You take your hands and put them on her neck, slightly playing with the hair on the back of her head, while she takes your sides and gently leans in for a peck.

“Just that?” You chuckle. “You have to give me more than that. I haven’t kissed you in more than a month.”

Without asking twice, she pulls you closer to her for a more passionate kiss that takes your breath away. It was needy, and it was full of passion. You both haven’t kissed each other in so long, and the constant teasing of the whole night made the both of you react in a desperate way for each other. You were slowly going forward in your new relationship with each other, but that didn’t mean you didn’t miss the small or big actions one did with the other’s body. You knew each other’s body perfectly, and frankly, you missed how much perfectly her lips would encapsulate yours or how she knew how much to push or how much you needed from her.

She pushes you to the wall and slowly traces her tongue on your lips, asking you for permission. You absolutely granted her that. Your mind was hazy, and you weren’t functioning properly. The both of you forgot that you were in a freaking house with kids that could walk in on you at any moment, but you didn’t care; you finally had your girl back. Both hands were roaming everywhere, clearly not containing your excitement. You always loved it when Alexia took control, and after a month of not feeling her body, hands, and lips on you, it made it all worse. After a period of time that was not enough for you, she put her forehead on yours, with the both of you panting for air.

She then begins giving you small pecks on the lips, “I.” Another peck, “Missed.” Another one. “This.” And finally, placing the last kiss on your lips, lingering a little.

“Wait, sorry. What did you miss? I didn’t quite understand. Can you show me again?” You tease her. She turns you around and then brings you even closer, lifting you in the air and kissing you again.

She then puts you on the ground and looks at you, giving you the smile that was only reserved for you. The real one showed all 32 teeth, but what made it special were her eyes. Whenever she smiled like that, her eyes would narrow, and her whole face would light up.

“I love you.” Before you can reply, she gives you another peck. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, mi amor.” And before you could reply to anything, she left the house, leaving you frozen in the spot. After two good minutes to compose yourself, you go upstairs to get ready for bed.

You were reading some book to get yourself tired and ready to sleep when you heard your phone buzz.

‘I just got home :)’

‘I really had fun today. I’m so glad you had given me a second chance.’

‘I’m glad too. But maybe next time, don’t run away like that.’

‘I won’t, I promise. Good night’

‘Goodnight.’

You put your phone away and go to sleep.

The next day was the last day before you, Alexia and Lucia would begin preseason. You were excited, but at the same time, you were a little worried about leaving Ava and sometimes Lucia for work. You hoped that when school for them would start, everything would get easier from there. It was 8 am, and as you got downstairs in your kitchen, you began your morning routine. Scroll through some news and wait for the kids to wake up. As you scroll on your phone, you receive a text from Alexia saying that she will be arriving soon.

You had to go to the hospital with Ava for some check-ups, and you were really worried. With all your experience with hospitals with Nico, you always hated going inside there for check-ups, especially when one of your loved ones was involved. So you really hoped that the visit would go well. And even though every month, you spent at least three hours in a hospital trying to cheer up children who went through the same condition that your little brother had, you felt that on this occasion, it was different. This time, you went with your child, giving you a different type of fear.

As soon as Alexia arrived, you and the girls had breakfast together; needless to say, it was very awkward. Lucia was still annoyed with Alexia; Ava was really tired because you had to wake her up early. And you were already worried about going back to the hospital, so you were deep in your thoughts, continuously zoning out.

When Alexia noticed it, she put a hand on your thigh to give you some type of comfort; you both shared a look that made you understand how each other was feeling. This is what you loved and missed about your relationship with her, the way that you understood each other in every way, almost as if you both could read each other’s mind.

As soon as you finished breakfast, the girls went to their rooms to get ready, which left you and Alexia alone to do the dishes. You were cleaning them while she was drying the mugs. You were weirdly silent and clearly in your head.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

Alexia’s voice made you snap out of the trance. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. It’s just, today Ava has a visit with the oncologist, and I’m-“

“You are worried.” She finishes the sentence for you to understand how you are feeling.

“You already know that I hate going to the hospital for any medical reason, especially for people I care about. And I know that this is just a formality, but still, it’s making me have flashbacks of Nico.” You say in one breath.

“You don’t have to justify your feelings with me, okay?” She says, turning her head to you and giving you an earnest smile. You slowly nod, and then you finish up cleaning. “Do you want me to come with you?” She says while hugging you from behind, leaving some small kisses on your shoulders, trying to give you some comfort.

“You don’t have to. You might have some other stuff to do.” You say, turning your body around to face her.

“My family is more important.” She gives you a small peck on the lips, making your stomach flip.

“Do you love our little family so much that you would be willing to drive us?” You ask tentatively, with the both of you knowing how much you hated driving.

She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Okay, I will.”

“So, what are your plans for the day?” You ask Alexia while she is driving you and the girls to the hospital.

“So you know, what happened at the World Cup?”

You nod.

“Well, my agent wants me to release a video or write a note explaining what happened.”

“Do you already know what you are going to say?”

“I’m retiring from the national team.”

“Wait. Really?” You weren’t that shocked at the news; after what happened with Jorge, you knew that Alexia wouldn’t have returned to play if he was the coach.

“Yeah, and it’s not going to be only me.”

“Who else?”

“For now, Ona and Aitana, they are waiting for me to break the news. But many others will retire, too. I’ll tell you everything later in the afternoon when you’ll dye your hair.” She sends you a wink.

This made both girls turn to look at you.

“Are you dyeing your hair?” Lucia asks.

“I made a stupid bet with Alexia, and I lost it, so I have to dye my hair purple. She’s going to dye it for me, as I hate going to the hairdresser.” You cross your arms while the two young girls chuckle.

“Can I help? Can I help?” Ava asks excitedly.

“You know what? I don’t care anymore. Do whatever you want with my hair.” You say exasperated.

“Stop being so dramatic,” Alexia says, clearly mocking you.

“I’m not being dramatic.” You pout.

“Yes, you are being dramatic.” Lucia interjects, saying the first words since she got in the car.

“If it turns out bad, I’ll blame it on the three of you.”

As you got inside the hospital, you went into the oncology department, where basically everybody knew you from all the visits that you did in the past years with the other players; what they didn’t know was that you had in custody the two girls, making all the nurses from the floor give you a questioning look.

You sensed that Lucia was worried, too, so you nudged Alexia to go with Ava, leaving you with the older sister.

You put your arm on her shoulder and give her a kiss on the temple. “Everything is going to be okay. You have to be strong for her.”

“How do you do it?”

“What?”

“You are not worried. How do you do it?”

“Oh, believe me, I’m super worried, even though it’s just a check-up. I just try to cope with it.”

“How?”

“It’s not very healthy, so you probably shouldn’t do it.” She looks at you blankly. “Just whenever it gets too much, come and talk to me or to anyone. Don’t keep everything in. You are going to explode, believe me.”

She slowly nods and then thanks you. “And now that I have you for the first time alone, stop doing that thing with Alexia, please.”

“What thing?” She asks dumbly.

“Giving her the death stare, or not talking to her, or refusing to sit next to her.”

“I would never do such a thing!” She says defensively, even though you both knew that it wasn’t the case.

“Lucia.” You reprimanded her.

“Okay, she left you, us, without saying a word; you have basically forgiven her right away. I can’t let her just walk into Ava’s life again as if nothing happened. Maybe she’ll leave again, and Ava will be crushed, and I can’t let that happen.”

“Listen, I know that you are hurt, and you are kind of right from a point of view. But you don’t know the whole story. And I have known Alexia for nearly ten years now, and I know for a fact that she won’t abandon her family.”

“But she did.”

“As I told you before, you don’t know the whole story, and frankly, I don’t think you should because it is something between me and her. What I ask you is to give her a second chance. She deserves it. Will you try? Please.”

She nods.

As soon as you get to the waiting room, Lucia reminds you that Ava just changed doctors because her previous doctor had just retired. You hoped that her new doctor would be just as good as her other one.

What you didn’t expect is for you to know her.

As soon as the doctor’s office door opens, you almost immediately recognize her voice, soon after you recognize her.

“Y/n?” She asks, shocked.

“Oh my god! It’s you, then.” You walk to her and hug her.

Making the three other girls confused; you then turn to them and explain. “This is Emma; we were friends a long time ago.” You say happily.

“So, who are those people!” She asks you while resting her arm on your shoulder. She has always been very touchy.

“Well, this is Ava and Lucia; you have a visit with the little one, I guess. And this is-“

“Alexia.” Your girlfriend? You didn’t know what to call her. Walks up to her and shakes her hand.

“Are they yours?” She asks.

“We recently gained custody of them.”

“Oh wow!” She jokes. Then she kneels next to Ava, who was sitting down next to her big sister, “So you must be Ava. I’m Doctor Emma Fernandez. But you can call me Doctor Em.” Then she turns to you. So I know that you are in four, but only one of you can come with her.” You turn to look at Lucia, and you can see her distressed face turn into a defeated look. You knew that she wanted to be there, present for her sister, as protecting her was all she had ever known.

“Can you make an exception? I’m legally her guardian, but I’d rather have her sister come too, just to ease some nervousness.” You try to give her one of your most convincing smiles in the hopes that she will agree to your proposal.

She first looks at you, then the girls, and in the end, Alexia, then back to you. “Okay. Only because it’s her first visit.” She turns around to her office and lets you all in.

Thankfully, the visit went well, and you all returned home happy and grateful. Back home, the girl was minding their own business while you and Alexia were in the kitchen, figuring out her post on the national team.

You were sitting on the countertop while Alexia was sitting down on your left, very much focused, writing something on her iPad.

“So, do you know exactly what you are going to say?” Caressing her cheek, trying to make her divert her attention to you, she gives you a smile, leaning in the contact.

“I need to be cautious because I really don’t want to fall into any miscommunication or accidentally blame someone who’s not involved.”

“I really do believe that if you and some other big names put out a statement, things will change. But I know that you are in a very different position than I was when we sent that email. So whatever it happens, I understand, and I will support you.”

She turns her iPad towards you, “Read it.” She hands it to you, and you read what she wrote. It was a short note saying that she would be retiring from the national team because of some issues faced by the federation that put winning and pride over the well-being of the players. And then she added that what happened after the match against the USA with the coach was something inexcusable and unacceptable.

“I know that is very similar to what you said in the letter, so if you want me to change it, I’ll do it.” She says while you are still reading everything.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s similar if you tell the truth. For me, it’s perfect and very ballsy. If you want to post it, I’ll support you. But that’s my opinion. If you want a more objective opinion, I think you should ask Jenni or maybe Aitana to give you their opinion.”

“I already send it to them. I’ll probably post it tomorrow after I call my agent. What about you? I thought your agent told you to clarify about the kids thing.”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Have you been ignoring the problem?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yep. I was about to make a post, but then I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it didn’t feel right to do it at that moment.” She looks at you, puzzled, “It didn’t feel right because you weren’t there. I was about to do it when you were at the World Cup, and we broke up and were on a break or whatever that was.” She turns her head to the ground, sadly, still a little ashamed and guilty of breaking up with you. “And it didn’t feel right to post about my family when a huge part of it was missing. I was hoping you’d come back to me. And I’m so glad you did.”

She looks at you shyly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So you want to go public?” She smirks at you.

“I mean, we can, If you want that too. Maybe not now, but when things start to settle, we can. Again, if you want to, of course.”

As the night progressed, you were dreading the moment in which the girls would dye your hair. It’s not the fact that you didn’t want to dye your hair; what you hated about this was the fact that you would probably have to sit still for at least an hour, fully knowing that you couldn’t move in fear of ruining your clothes, but unfortunately, a bet is a bet and knowing that the girls would be doing that and that you would be having some family time, would make it worth it.

This left you sitting on a chair in your bedroom, with your head in your hands, while Alexia was trying to dye your hair, and the two girls were fighting for the music to play. After a while of convincing, they opted for a random playlist while Ava turned excitedly to Alexia, asking if she could do it. You genuinely didn’t know why she was that excited, but you didn’t care.

In the end, it didn’t look that bad

It was mid-August, so this was your last day before you went in preseason, and Lucia would be joining La Masia. Since she lived in Barcelona, she would stay there 5 days a week and return home on the weekends. So you finished the night by helping her pack up, making you, in the process, a little emotional.

It was 11 pm, and the girls just went to bed. Which left you and Alexia in the living room. You knew that it was late and you had to go to sleep, but both of you had training the following day, early in the morning. But neither of you wanted to leave.

“I should leave-“

“Do you want to come upstairs?” You both ask at the same time.

You both chuckle. “Are you sure?” She asks you.

“Yes, I’m sure.” You smile, taking her hand and leading her to your bedroom. As you both lay down on your bed, she turns to you, “So, are we back together?” She smiles shyly.

“Are you asking me again to be your girlfriend?” You tease while putting yourself on top of her.

“Yes, I am.” She replies confidently, moving her hands to your waist.

“So ask me.”

“Will you be my girlfriend once again, Y/n?” She grins excitedly in anticipation.

“Yes, I will.” You push yourself down to give her a small peck on the lips.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you so much, too.” You reply; while she looks at you in a way you always found so cute, you smile dumbly at her.

“What?”

“Oh, just fuck it.” You say as you crash your lips into hers, making her react immediately by lifting herself off the mattress, sitting right up, with you entirely on top of her with both of your fronts touching and ending the night with more than just kissing.

The next day, preseason had started, thus also starting the 23-24 season, one of the busiest and wholesome years of your life.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader

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