#reverie: lights of tomorrow

[sparklingpax]

flying home after a long day fighting monsters & stuff...probably discussing dinner plans :] ☁️🩷💫✨

(AU doodle since it's been a minute!!! As we know, Hawk can fly and Ginrai can't....so Hawk carries him around like this often.....just a silly thought i wanted to draw up.....hope u enjoy :D 💖✨)

[tonycries]

Hope They Catch Us - G.S.

Synopsis. When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Pairing. Actor! Gojo Satoru x Co-Star! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, co-stars to lovers, unprotected, oral (fem receiving) slight exhíbitionism (stuff with cameras), marking, praise, Satoru is actually down BAD, cúmplay, tabloids, lowkey fluffy at the end, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.5k

A/N. YA GIRL IS BACKKKK ;D Also happy belated three months to this blog hehehe.

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---

You hated him. Oh, how you hated him. All because of a red-hot rivalry that had sparked ever since the two of you took the industry by storm. And everyone from Hollywood’s bigshots to your adoring fans knew that no matter where Gojo Satoru goes, you were sure to never be within a ten-mile radius. 

Well, usually. 

“I…shit- I’m in love with you.” 

Because avoiding Gojo like a plague really isn’t saying much when said plague was currently sitting right next to you. Eyes boring into yours, signature smirk plastered on his face while he rattles off a disgustingly sweet confession - all on the set of your latest movie. 

Somehow, in a cruel twist of fate, your co-star. 

And to add insult to injury, this wasn’t just any movie - it was only set to be the biggest romance film of the summer. So not only did you hate to tolerate Gojo, you had to pretend to be in love with him. 

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. If only the check wasn’t as tempting as it was, you think he would’ve successfully driven you to an aneurysm already. Especially considering that the scene tomorrow was-

“CUT!” 

That snaps you out of your little reverie, bringing you back to the still very ongoing film shooting. You risk a glance at the disgruntled director, cheeks aching from the sappy fake smile you had to hold for this scene.

“Something wrong?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. You knew exactly what was wrong. And one look at Gojo - dressed to the nines and huffing sulkily at being interrupted in the middle of his monologue - told you that he did as well.

“It just doesn’t feel real.” The director shuffles his script, voice dropping to a sigh at your confused gazes. “The spark, it doesn't feel real.”

“What?” you silently thank your years of acting for keeping your voice steady. You squirm in your seat the longer the silence stretches. This cozy little café they rented out too tight, Gojo’s fingers intertwined with yours too hot. Too soft. 

“C’mon. You are in the perfect romantic set-up.” the other man gestures wearily at the café, at the dim-lighting and the proximity of your seats. “So why do you two look like you want to just- strangle each other?”

“Ooo kinky~”

It’s the first time Gojo’s spoken up since the scene was ended early and honestly that was enough to have you fulfilling the director’s suspicions. 

“That.” you give him a pointed stare. “That is probably why.”

And that just draws out such an infuriatingly light chuckle from Gojo, as he sprawls all over his chair with the audacity of someone that owned this entire set. “Lighten up. You’ve told us, n’ in the next take I’ll fix it. Easy peasy.”

If only it was that “easy peasy”. The director was anything but satisfied, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “It’s not just me, even the public is worried whether your ‘feud’ will get in the way of such intimate scenes. You-” he jabs a finger your way. “-better pretend like you want to kiss him senseless and you-” whirling now to Gojo. “-better act like you’ve wanted nothing more for years- Not to mention tomorrow’s sex scene-”

Ah, right. The sex scene. 

How could you forget? It might not be a walk in the park to giggle and make heart-eyes at Gojo, but to actually pretend to have sex with him? All on camera? Curse whoever wrote this damn script. You could’ve almost laughed at the universe’s absolutely awful sense of humor if it hadn’t been for your paycheck - and the next words that tumble out of Gojo’s pretty mouth. 

“We’ll ace it, you just watch.” 

You hurriedly snap your eyes to meet Gojo’s, sending him a look that says “behave”, in a way that very much makes him not want to. Twinkling with such dangerous mischief that makes your stomach flip as he hums, “Or- I’ll ace it.”

God, was it a battle to remain professional. The only thing stopping you from snapping back being the way he squeezes your hand mockingly reassuringly - to which you send him a death grip back, of course. 

“Oh? Care to elaborate, Mr. Gojo?” the director asks, eyes flitting between the two of you. And you can’t even laugh at the rest of the staff for almost toppling out of their seats in an attempt to hear his answer - because you are, too. Mind whirling as you lean closer, wondering just what nonsense would come out of Gojo’s mouth. 

“Well, you could say…” he trails off suspensefully, like the smug bastard he is. Looking right in your eyes as he flashes an unfairly pretty smile your way. “I’m irresistible like that.”

Exactly the type of nonsense that would come out of Gojo Satoru, of course. And one glance at the director told you he was thinking the same thing. He was going to be the death of you. You can’t help but breathe out shrilly, “You fucking-”

“My apologies, director, but our leads have a scheduled interview soon. Rest assured, we will be early on set for filming tomorrow.”

You were definitely giving Nanami a raise after this. 

Because if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on his grace already - and you let him know. A little over twenty times, actually, as the both of you are hastily escorted away from the set for an “emergency interview”. 

It was a flimsy excuse, you both knew, but Nanami hadn’t exactly felt like cleaning up a crime scene today. Instead, settling for a swift escape, the director calling out after you two to “Look like you’re gonna rip the clothes off each other tomorrow.”

Rip the clothes off each other, huh?

With the way things were going, you couldn’t be surprised if you ripped him a new-

“C’mon, sweetheart~” Gojo gets out through giggles, that familiar cackle echoing in the narrow hallway leading to your trailer. “Y’know I was just having a little fun with that ol’ man.”

He saunters unhurriedly behind your brisk pace, easily blocking the way you swing the door shut in his face. Letting it shut with such infuriatingly smooth nonchalance. 

“Fun?” you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger right in the middle of his sculpted chest.“Do you even realize the mess you could’ve made?”

“Easy there, m’not insured for these pecs just yet.” Gojo clasps your hands together. Some strange little part of your skin burning at the touch in- anger? Something else? But you don’t think too hard about it, because he’s plowing on, “Besides, a little teasing never hurt anyone.”

Such a shame he was so pretty with the stupidest mouth.

“A little teasing? You practically declared to everyone in that room that we’re gonna fuck this up.” you move to pull him down by the collar instead, clearly unimpressed.

But oh you shouldn’t have done that - because he’s so close now. Too close. Hot breath fanning your face, looking so smug as he murmurs unrepentantly, “Do you?” Chuckling lightly at your little head tilt, “Do you think we’ll fuck it up?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep it all together. “...No.”

“Exactly. We’re good then.” he winks. 

“No. We’re not fucking ‘good’.” you grit out. Wondering exactly how difficult it might be to bother the director into completely recasting the male lead for the movie. Looking up at that million dollar smile and- yeah, it would be very difficult. “You’re so insufferable. I don’t know why they cast you.” 

“My good looks? My charisma? The way I’m the-” he trails off with a sigh at your glare. “Well, you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine, sweetheart.”

“At least I can act and-.”

He whines dramatically, cutting off your rant. “Me too!” 

This conversation was so ridiculous - but, hey, the great Gojo Satoru always did bring out the worst parts of you. 

“Nuh uh.” 

“Yuh uh.” 

“Then why are you so stiff when acting like you’re in love with me?”

Somehow, that makes Gojo shut up. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water - gasping out a strangled little, “B-because- well-” And if you didn’t know any better you’d say that was a light blush dusting his ears.

Only for a split-second, though, because he’s grabbing you gently by your shoulders, more seriously than you’d ever seen him. “Fine. Listen, we both want the same thing right? To have pretend-sex and ace this film to win like five Oscars?”

And maybe at the heat of his newfound proximity, maybe at the way he was looking at you so goddamn intensely - you feel something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Swallowing thickly, you manage to get out, “I’ll be the one winning the Oscars...but yes.”

Gojo’s gaze roams all over you - from the quirk of your eyebrow to the dress hugging you so sinfully tight. “Then we’ll do it. Ace the scene.”

Traitorously, a shiver runs down your spine. And because the universe loves to play jokes on you, Gojo notices - of course, he does. Eyes lighting up with amusement and something you really didn’t want to decipher as you blink up questioningly, “How?”

“Method acting, silly.” he rolls his eyes, as if he wasn’t implying something that wasn’t seen in even the cheesiest of romcoms. “Think of it as running lines.”

If there was ever a moment where your life flashed behind your eyes then this just might be it. 

“You-” you gulp, so hot all over. “You better shut the fuck up and pray your face is insured because-”

At this, Gojo throws his head back and laughs - loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say about keeping his voice down so as not to let anyone outside hear, but shit you were mesmerized. Damn, a weird little part of you kind of understood why directors loved him onscreen. 

“Feisty,” he muses. “But how can I shut the fuck up when they’re second-guessing the two best actors in the game?” 

“The best? Me, maybe.” you lean in closer, mouth as bitchy as ever - even when you’re so obviously crumbling bit by bit under his gaze. And he knew that. “But not you.”

“Well, only way to find out is with tomorrow’s scene, right, sweetheart?” 

He drove you mad - everything from his heady cologne, to the way that overpriced button-up clung to him like second skin. But, don’t pull away - how could you? Not when he inches closer ever-so-slightly. Not when he lets those overpriced glasses slide down his nose, eyes locked so heavily on you.

Fighting to keep your words steady, “There’s nothing special about that scene, just fake moan in front of the camera, right? We don’t need any…‘method acting’.”

Gojo only raises a brow in amusement, lips curling into a grin that really makes you too aware of his little dimple by the corner. “Then why…” His eyes flicker down from his hands, searing on your shoulders, to yours - still grabbing his collar, just grazing the soft skin of his neck. Not pulling away. “...can’t you let go of me, sweetheart?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you, you really don’t give a fuck. The only thing running through your mind being that shit this was Gojo bane-of-your-existence Satoru, and he tasted so…sweet. Like those cheap lollipops he often snuck on-set. Strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly he’s pulling away mere millimeters. Whispering hotly, absolutely dripping with something dangerous, “Sooo, is that a ‘yes’ to running lines?”

“Ugh, shut up.” your lips ghost his. “And just fucking kiss me.”

And, well, Gojo doesn’t have to be asked twice. Because it only takes a split second for his lips to find yours again. 

Yeah, definitely strawberry lollipops.

You hadn’t filmed any of the kissing scenes just yet, but damn you didn’t expect him to be so hot and messy - like he was drunk off of you. Licking at the seam of your candied lips, groaning softly like he wanted more more more-

“Sh-shit, Goj-” 

“Call me ‘Satoru’ when we’re fucking.” he cuts you off. “Or, my bad. When we’re ‘running lines’.” 

Shameless. Though, you guess you weren’t any better - not as you press yourself closer running your hands all over his sinfully thin shirt, feeling every bump and curve of his abs. “You talk too much, Toru.” you hiss, muffled against his lips. 

Oh that cute lil’ nickname had all the blood rushing to Satoru’s cock, you were so unfair. 

“You little minx.” Like a little punishment, he’s biting down on your bottom lip, tugging lightly at your surprised squeal. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Hmm, I doubt it.”

And then your back is hitting the couch before you can react, bouncing lightly at the sheer force. And you’re so swept up in him - the way he hovers over you, arms looping around your waist, his knee wedging between your legs - that it almost hurts for you to pull away.

“Patience.” you huff out a laugh at Satoru’s disappointed whine, eyeing those pretty pink lips mere inches away from you. You just wanted them on yours. So badly. But no, there was something more important you had to do right now. “Jus’ thought we should record our little rehearsal, whaddaya think?”

“Record it?”

“Record it.”

“Record it, hmmm?” he’s whispering, more to himself than you. Fumbling with the zipper of your dress. “So you’re sayin’ we tape it, let the camera see how pretty you look all fallin’ apart f’me.” Kissing down your neck, letting the flimsy fabric fall down, “N’ then we improve for the pretend sex. Shut all those snobby directors up by giving them the best fucking sex scene they’ve ever seen.”

“Y-yes?” you mutter, as he starts tweaking your hardened nipples through your bra, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Unless-”

“Fine by me.”

The fabric hits the floor before you even realize what’s happening. Head spinning too much from the idea of being fucked on camera - by Satoru of all people, it takes you a second to realize that this bastard fucking ripped your dress off. 

“You probably broke-” 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” muffled, as he kisses down your navel, blindly fumbling with his phone. 

“It was expensive.”

With an impatient sigh, Satoru sets the camera up on the coffee table beside the couch. “Five new ones.” Angling it just right to perfectly capture you - in all your disheveled, horny glory, and Satoru, smugly seating himself between your thighs. 

“Ready?” he asks, finger hovering over that damn red button.

Well, it’s just for rehearsal, right? Right? 

“Do it.” you manage to get out, voice getting stuck in your throat at the faint ding! that rings throughout the heady room. “For my Oscars?”

“For my Oscars. N’the camera’s gonna know.”

And whatever retort on the tip of your tongue dies when he rocks his hip against yours, grinding his cock against your soaked panties. Rock-hard and so damp with precum already - so big that any and all rational thinking flies out the window.

Which is probably why you’re letting out such a pretty gasp, ‘S-Satoru, I want-“

“What?” And Satoru only flashes you a devilish grin, hands spreading your legs as far as they’d go on the couch. “This?”

He licks a long, long stripe up your inner thigh, all the way till he just meets the hem of your drenched panties. Teasing. So hot and depraved in the way he breathes in your scent. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.” Satoru grunts, looking down in awe at the damp fabric, so flimsy and see-through with your sweet juices. You slick beading through so sloppily, just a hint of the state you were in. “You don’t know how you drive me mad.”

Rip! 

He’s so fucking starved that he’s just tearing your poor panties clean off. Throwing them behind him to God-knows-where before spreading your swollen folds with his thumb, showing off just how wet you were for him. 

“You’re a tease.”

“And you’re fucking addictive. Look how fuckin’ wet you are. For who, huh?” he slurs, breath hot against your cunt. Circling your entrance just barely with his fingertip, teasing you like he was addicted to those frustrated moans coming out of your pretty lips. 

“S’for you-” you whine, “All for you, Satoru.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

And that’s all that needs to be said before he’s burying himself nose-deep. Drunk off your pussy as he licks long, languid movements. And it wasn’t enough - never might be, actually, because only one taste and Satoru was like a man possessed. 

Bullying his tongue between your folds, just dipping into your sloppy hole in a way that had your slick smearing all over his pretty face. Letting out such deep groans that had you clenching around his hot tongue. 

Shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut up the great Gojo Satoru then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. Because for one in his life, Satoru’s too entranced with something else to run his mouth, so fucking satisfied between your thighs. 

“Fuck- hah- think I like you better w-when hngh- you’re like this, Toru.” you purr, breath hitching as he bullies his tongue between your folds. 

Maybe you were an idiot - maybe you were a genius, because that only sets him off more. 

And suddenly Satoru’s pulling your body closer onto his hot mouth, like you were weighless. Pushing himself so impossibly closer while he makes out deeper with your wet cunt. 

“Ah! Hngh- Satoru-” you keen, tugging at his soft locks. As delirious as Satoru was pussydrunk. Drinking in all your cute lil’ whines of his name, angling your hips to lick all over like he couldn’t decide between fucking your sloppy hole or toying with your poor, ravaged clit. 

“Mhm?” he murmurs, the vibrations making you squeal.  Eyes rolling to the back of his head as lets your sweet juices slide down his throat. “Ya like this?” Stretching you out on his tongue, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over- “Like when I tonguefuck your pretty pussy?”

“Ngh- love it- s’good. Ah fillin’ me up s’good.” you squeal, bucking your hips desperately into his pretty face, broken little whimpers leaving you at each rough push of Satoru’s tongue. 

And oh Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind being on his knees every day if it meant he got to taste you like this. “Tell the camera too, sweetheart. Practice how you’ll come around my tongue.”

Those words send a jolt up your spine - or maybe it was the way Satoru was sucking harshly on your clit. “F-fuck off.”

“Mhmmm, n’ this is why I’m the better actor..”

Ugh, this fucker. And with that you fight to turn your head - looking right in the camera. Feeling so fucking lewd as you let out such pornographic moans.

“Yeah- feel s’good.” you whimper, “Wanted this for so long, ever since I first saw- ngh- you-”

And shit were you so fucking evil - at least warn a guy! Because that has Satoru’s heart lurching, almost jumping up from between your legs before it hits him with a pang - ah, right, you were just quoting your character’s lines. Of course.

Well, two can play that game.

“Yeah?” he mutters into your folds. Two fingers plunging knuckle-deep in your pussy, massaging your plushy walls. Roaming around for that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so deliciously. “Can’t believe I waited s’fucking long. Y’know how hard it was to hold back? With you wearing all those slutty skirts f’me?”

Your body is jerking violently, both at his - practiced - words, and the way he was devouring you like you were his favorite meal. His favorite taste.

So eager and in-character with the way he was setting such a dizzying pace on your poor cunt. Slick trailing down from his fingers, all the way to his wrist. So sloppy and- Pressing down. Hard. “Found it.”

And you can only sit there and take it, such cute little whines of Satoru’s name leaving you as he leaves no mercy. Jaw grinding deeper and deeper, maddening. Aching as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over. And you were so-

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Truthfully, he didn’t even have to ask - if the way you were trembling and squeezing so fucking tightly around him was anything to go by. “Go on darling. scream my name. Show off f’the camera like you do best.”

“Sh-shit. Toru- fuck yes-” you’ve got an iron-tight grip on his hair now, pulling and angling him as you pleased for more. Barely able to let out those strained lil’ moans, definitely not with the way he’s dragging your sloppy pussy all over his face. Fingers cramping up from how rough he was going - but still not stopping. 

“Go on. Cum f’me.”

And then you are. Letting out such a teary, strangled moan of Satoru’s name as you cum all over his face. 

And it’s not just for the camera either - because this orgasm is probably the best one you’ve had in a while. So hard that you don’t even realize you’re arching and rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Using him. 

And he doesn’t stop you. Why would he? You were so pretty falling apart all because of him. He wishes he could see this more often…

“S-Satoru.” you mewl, overstimulated. Jolting with each flick of his tongue, trying to close your legs but you can’t - he won’t let you. Greedily lapping up all your sweet juices, everything that you give him. 

“Nope.” he drawls, finally pulling away, delicate strings of your slick snapping as he does. Looking so fucking drunk off of you that it makes your cunt quiver exhaustedly. “C’mon now, sweetheart, you were s’pposed to say my character’s name. S’how the scene goes.”

Oh. Shit, you got too caught up. But one look at Satoru - eyes half-lidded, hair disheveled, your juices glistening all over the bottom half of his face so prettily - tells you he was much the same. 

“Well…” you huff, voice shot. “According to the script you were supposed to stuff that-” pointedly eyeing the achingly hard cock straining his pants, “-in my mouth first before eating me out. So here we are.”

With a chuckle, he rises slowly. “Touché.” Looking you straight in the eyes - and probably into your very soul - as he pops his fingers into his mouth. One by one. Groaning at the taste of your sweet sweet juices while he sucks them clean. “But I don’t think I’d last one second with those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

And it almost makes you want to tease him for it - one of Hollywood’s biggest It Boys but you can’t handle a lil’ blowjob? But all of that gets stuck in your throat as Satoru starts peeling off his shirt ever-so-slowly. 

Shit, you think. All mouthwatering curves and dips, all the way from his toned, milky shoulders down, down, down to those neat tufts of white peeking out from the hem of his underwear. Sculpted like he was handcrafted so meticulously - a fucking masterpiece, you had to admit. 

One that made you wish you took a longer look at all those shirtless magazine covers instead of throwing them out. One that had your thighs squeezing in such anticipation.

And Satoru seemed to be admiring you just the same, eyes locked on your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing - so ready for him. Distinctly aware of how pathetically needy you were being in front of the blinking camera, you crane your head to glance at it. Was it really capturing-

“Now now, first rule is to never look at the camera during this scene.” Only for Satoru to squish your cheeks together, forcing you into an embarrassing little pout as he turns you back to face him. “Look at me.”

And oh you can’t not look at him. 

Especially when he tugs his pants down, just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, so fucking long and pretty. Smearing glossy precum all over his abs, flushed your favorite shade of pink, rock-hard and so so angry. Shit, he was so hard it looked like it hurt. 

“Satoru…” you breathe, legs wrapping around his slutty waist to pull him closer. Only needier despite that little nagging voice wondering how the fuck you’d take his sheer size.

“Sweetheart?”

“I remember he didn’t do a lot of waiting in the script.”

And God were you right - but Satoru doesn’t think he could’ve kept this act of restraint up any longer even if you weren’t. Too impatient, too starved, his sanity dancing away from him with each second his fat cock wasn’t stuffed inside your pretty cunt. 

“Mhm.” he purrs, one hand reaching down to drag his fat head up and down your slit. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the way your lip wobbles in frustration. Up and down up and up and- “You’re right.”

And then it’s like something snaps.

Because it only takes a split-second for Satoru to start splitting you apart on his massive cock. Big fat tears pricking at your eyes at the feeling that he was pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“Sh-shit, s’fuckin’ tight-” he lets out a low grunt at the slight resistance, taking everything in him to not just fuck into your snug pussy and use you like his little plaything. “You gotta hah- relax, pretty girl.”

You needed to relax more - to breathe maybe, just something. You weren’t even in the right state to wonder whether that little nickname was in the script - and God was Satoru thankful for that. Because all you can think of is how you never imagined what the bane of your existence would look with his cock stuffed in your dripping cunt - but now that you’ve seen it, you think you’ll imagine it for many lonely nights to come. 

“Hey, now. Don’t get camera-shy just yet.” Satoru gives your ass a playful smack. “After all, this is only the best- part-”

Each word is punctuated with shallow, mindless little thrust to fit himself inside your dripping pussy. Such cute lil’ whines leaving your swollen lips that he really can’t help but tease you a bit. Leering down at your fucked-out face with a smirk, “Or- my bad. Forgot such a scene would be hard for a rookie.”

Oh, did he know how to press your buttons just right. 

Because immediately, you’re blinking away the delirious haze in your eyes, voice so adorably shaky - but determined - as you grit out, “Bring it on, you B-list wonder.”

That’s all that has to be said before he’s finally bottoming out inside you, mercilessly. Inch by fucking inch. You gasp as his twitching balls smack your ass so lewdly, feeling his veins beat in such a slutty lil’ thump! thump! thump! against your heavenly walls. 

“T-Toru- big- ngh- too fuckin’ big. M’gonna break mpf-” his lips claim yours. Partially because it’s been way too long since he’s kissed your pretty lips, and partially because Satoru might just cum right then and there if he let you run your mouth. 

So he lets his hips do the talking instead. 

Cooing into your mouth at each little ah! ah! ah! every time he stuffed you full of his dick, quick, experimental thrusts to try and find that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so prettily.

“Sounds so beautiful, sweetheart.” rocking his hips faster into yours. So hard you were sure he’d leave marks. “No camera in the world can pick up how fuckin’ perfect ya are. Can’t ngh- pick up those cockdrunk lil’ heart eyes.” Angling your chin just so that your sinful expression is caught on camera, “Shit do ya even know you’re doing those? Might just make me lose it for real tomorrow. Might just make me sneak you off to the dressing rooms n’-” Manicured fingers digging into your hips while he fucks you in jagged, purposeful strokes. Hitting that one spot. Hard. “Fuck you all over again.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he smugly hits that magical spot over and over- 

And it was so sloppy - so filthy with the way Satoru still had remnants of your slick all over his lips, matching the way you were soaking his cock. Fingers moving down to draw erratic little patterns on your clit, making it even messier. 

Close - too close. 

So, so desperate and debauched.

“C’mon. Show the camera. Tell the camera how much you love it.” 

“Ngh- f-fuck you.”

“Oh? Who’s fucking who now?” he’s laughing at your absolutely wrecked state. You can feel Satoru twitch inside you as you mumble out such delirious little praises to the camera - were they coherent sentences? You’ll never know, because the next words that fall from his lips have your mind reeling. 

“God, m’addicted to you, my girl.”

“That’s not- ah- in the script, Toru.” you hiss. Close. 

“I know. And neither is that.” he leaves such uncharacteristically gentle kisses down your neck. Miles away from the relentless place on your poor, abused pussy, fucking you deeper and rougher every time despite already bottoming out. “Does it have to be?”

“Th-that doesn’t ngh- make sense.” you gasp into his open mouth. 

“Doesn’t have to.”

Maybe it’s the way Satoru’s panting those words against your lips. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking right in your eyes while he says them - like it would kill him to pull away. Maybe even that fleeting little kiss he leaves against your lips. 

Because before you know it, you’re cumming and cumming so hard that you wonder whether you’d make it out alive. The only thing you can do is throw your head back and take it, thighs quivering, Satoru’s names spilling from your lips in such broken little whines while he thrusts so sloppy. Once. Twice. 

“Ah- this is gonna have me fallin’, huh?” And then he’s letting out such a low, muffled moan of your name, filling you up with rope after rope of his cum. 

What? 

It’s so messy - his cum overfilling your poor pussy, spilling out and coating his twitching balls. Shit, you can’t even worry about whether it would stain that overpriced couch below you. Not when Satoru’s whispering out sweet- lines from the script?

“Fuckin’ beautiful underneath me. Always was.” Hips still fucking into you - not even thinking at this point. “Always will be. Such a vision onscreen, sweetheart.” So thick and hot, and dribbling all the way down your legs with every movement.

And then Satoru’s lips are finding yours again, tasting so unfairly sweet while he drinks in all your cute breathless gasps. “Such a vision f’me.”

Those weren’t from the script either.

Something soft. Something scary. Something that has you looping your legs tighter around his waist, letting him collapse onto you. Pulling him closer, in fact, because now that you know the weight of his body on yours, it just felt so right.

It takes a moment of silence for you two to catch your breaths, the still rolling camera being the last thing on your minds. Neither willing to speak first, because shit Satoru might’ve gone to countless red carpets and film sets but this - you are what strips him away from all the glamor and fame. Until he was just, well, embarrassingly Satoru.

The Satoru that was now shifting shyly in your arms, trying to get up. “Uh- Hell of a way to run lines, huh? Better check the camera n’ see where to impro-”

He might be one of the biggest actors in modern Hollywood, but Satoru didn’t fool you - not one bit. So without a word, you’re tugging him back to rest against you. Heart lurching just a little bit as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Like a little hideaway - from the camera, from the world, hell, maybe even from you.

“Y’know,” he flinches ever-so-slightly at your teasing tone, giving you a playful bite. “I have one area of suggestion and it might just be that you’re too good at ‘running lines’.”

“...Good enough to win those five Oscars?”

“No.”

“Then guess I better prove it to ya, huh? Is the camera still on, sweetheart?”

Just then, some weird little part of you thinks that, hell, maybe you don’t hate Gojo Satoru after all.

Not anymore, at least. 

---

The Enemies-To-Lovers Trope of The Century?! Hollywood’s Biggest Rivals Sport Matching Hickeys (And Smiles) On-Set of Upcoming Film.

Oops! Gojo Satoru's Phone Wallpaper Accidentally Exposed: Surprise, Surprise It’s His Leading Lady! More on Page 6.

“No Comment. Though, I Have Moved Trailers. Twice.” Anonymous Manager Speaks on Latest Movie Rumors.

Director Is All Smiles As He Raves About Upcoming Romance Movie. “Hell, If I Didn’t Know Any Better I’d Say They Were Really-”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[dumbseee]

prom queen.

when bakugo wants to invite you to prom, but doesn’t know how to do it.

bakugo katsuki x fem!reader.

warning: bad english/grammar :p / excuse any typos!

_

"just go for it! she won’t say no!" mina encouraged her friend, smiling from ear to ear after kaminari let it slipped that bakugo wanted to invite you to prom. the poor boy did his best to not meet the glaring gaze of his friend. "forget about it! i don’t know why dunce face said that, it’s not true!" he yelled, throwing a pillow at mina. "liar! i knew you liked her! do you think you’re slick with the way you look at her during class or training? you even proclaimed yourself her male partner for training, you don’t even let another boy approach her." she crossed her arms on her chest, looking at her friend with a knowing smile. bakugo was burning up and could feel the palm of his hands starting to sparkle from the sweat. as he was about to explode in the dorm’s living room, another voice calmed him instantly.

"we’re here!" you said, arms full of shopping bags and followed by momo and jirou. mina jumped off the couch and ran to them, while bakugo kept his eye on you the whole time. you looked so beautiful, with your hair styled in a high ponytail you even put some light makeup on and damn you looked so good. "oh my god! you went to buy your dresses for prom?" mina asked and you nodded, you seemed to notice the burning gaze of bakugo on you since you turned to look at the three men sitting on the couch. you lifted your hand to wave at them and only bakugo ignored you, turning his gaze away from you and back on the tv. you frowned and bite your lip, you didn’t know why bakugo was this way with you, you were convinced that he hated you. mina brushed it off and dragged you and your friends to her dorm so you could show her the dresses you brought.

prom was tomorrow and you still haven’t got anyone to go with you. of course, you had a lot of people asking you to go with them, and they were cute guys, but you always said no. why? because you were still waiting for someone to ask you for prom. "hey, y/n! can you help me take these boxes back to the storage room?" iida asked you, snatching you out of your reveries. "oh? yes, of course!" you smiled at him, making the class rep blush slightly, you got up and took the boxes on the ground, you started walking towards the exit, thinking that iida was following you. "i think we did a great job with the decorations, don’t you think iida?" when he didn’t answer, you frowned and turned around to look at him, you almost dropped the boxes on the ground when you saw bakugo, instead of iida, holding the boxes and walking behind you. "bakugo?" you asked, slowing down your pace. the blond swallowed before looking away, a slight pink colour colouring his cheekbones. "four eyes had other things to do." he mumbled and you nodded, you didn’t want to ask more questions and make him angry, he seemed pissed off enough to be around you and having to carry those boxes. "are those heavy?" you were surprised that he spoke up again, you turned to look at him, a questioning look on your face. "i’ll carry them for you." he simply said, carrying his boxes on his right hand to scoop yours with his left. "i-it’s too heavy! let me help!" you tried to snatch back your boxes but he dodged you with ease.

"hey y/n!" a new voice stopped you from voicing your concern again, you turned to face the person calling you and it happened to be awase. you couldn’t see it but bakugo’s grip on the boxes had tightened as he glared at the boy who ran to you, he was blushing and seemed extremely uncomfortable. he tried his best to avoid bakugo’s gaze but it was hard and the blond’s aura was suffocating. "u-um, are you b-busy? i wanted to ask you something." he was fidgeting with his hands while looking away. "for now i’m helping my class decorate the ballroom for prom, and i’m going to the storage room with bakugo, is it important?" bakugo knew where this was going, he wasn’t dense and could read the room. if it was anyone else, he’d have left the scene immediately, but it was you. and ain’t no way is he letting you go to prom with this idiot. "kinda, i was wondering if you had someone to go to prom with?" he rubbing the back of his head and finally made eye contact with you.

you smiled at the boy, your heart tugging a little when you thought about the fact that the boy you wanted to go to prom with was standing behind you, probably cursing you out because you were wasting his time. you signed softly before smiling at awase, about to accept his offer, even though you really didn’t want to. when all of a sudden, you felt a strong arm wrapping around your shoulders. you looked up, and blushed furiously when you saw bakugo, looking straight at awase with that hard expression on his face. "she’s going with me, now scram before i make you fucking explode." he spat, not once looking at you. awase left in a hurry, blurting out apologies. "thanks, but you didn’t have to do that." you said, a sad smile on your lips, now you had to go to prom alone while all your friends would go with their crushes. bakugo looked at you, lifting up one of his brow. "you didn’t have to pretend you were going with me, you know." you looked down and the blond lifted up your face with two of his fingers, making you blush again. his face was now inches from yours and you didn’t know where to look, his lips looked soft but his red irises were so beautiful from up close. "you’re going with me to that stupid prom, pretty girl." he whispered, your eyes widened while he grinned at you, taking a step back and walking towards the storage room.

of course, bakugo made sure to walk in front of you so you wouldn’t be able to see his red cheeks and how he was trying to catch his breath.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 2

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1

There’s a note in Eddie’s locker. It flutters down to the dirty linoleum when he opens it to try and find his missing Biology textbook. He stares down at it, perplexed, until Jeff bends down to pick it up.

“Hey!” Eddie cries, snatching it out of his hand. “That’s mine!”

“Whatever, dude,” Jeff replies, leaning back into the closed locker beside Eddie’s and crossing his arms.

Eddie pays him no mind, too busy unfolding the note and bending over it to read.

He reads it again. And again. And again, each pass over the sign-off making his cheeks feel hotter.

It’s not like Eddie’s a stranger to getting notes in his locker, but they’re usually death threats. Or requests for drugs. Not…not this.

“What’s it say?” Jeff asks, breaking him from his shocked reverie.

“Nothing!” Eddie shrieks loudly enough that multiple heads turn to scowl at them. Eddie hastily stuffs the note into his pocket, and smiles at Jeff. “Let’s go get lunch, huh?”

Jeff squints at him suspiciously.

Eddie, in a desperate bid to distract him, starts rambling about this week’s campaign. It seems to work. By the time they’re settled in with matching shitty lunches, Jeff’s wheedling him for information on the next big bad instead of the note burning a hole in Eddie’s pocket.

It’s probably a joke, definitely a joke.

He finds himself combing the packed lunch tables anyway, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anyone paying more attention to him than usual. There’s nothing. Harrington’s letterman on a different girl, a few band geeks sitting closer together than usual, nothing else.

No one looks at him at all.

He gives it up as a bad job and forgets the note entirely until he finds a wet, pulpy mess in his pocket on his next laundry day.

A little part of Eddie mourns the only love note he’s likely ever to get, cruel prank or not.

But there’s another one there the following week. There’s an envelope this time–it’s light purple, his name written in a dark, careful black atop it.

He’s alone at his locker, no nosy friends to wheedle it out of him, but the hallway is full of other students rushing to make it to their next class, so he presses it carefully into his monster manual and bides his time.

He wants to wait until he’s in the privacy of his own home to open it. Eddie barely makes it to his van after school before he’s collapsing into the relative privacy of the windowless back and tearing through his backpack like a rabid dog.

He tries to be more careful with the envelope. But it’s sealed, and his prodding fingers tear it open in jagged lines.

That same light blue paper is nestled inside. He slips it out and unfolds it to read in the dank recesses of his parked van.

  Eddie –

  You always look so happy when you’re with your friends. I like the way your dimples always seem to peek out no matter how small your smile is. The big ones are my favorite, when you’re jumping up on the cafeteria table with all your teeth showing.

  You didn’t jump up on any tables last week. Was that because of me?

  You seemed upset after I gave you my letter. Do you even want me to write these? I don’t want to be a bother. If you do, maybe you could write back? Leave your reply in the back of the WXYZ encyclopedia, no one ever uses that one.

  If you don’t reply, then I won’t bother you anymore, okay?

  Yours, always,

  Your Secret Admirer

It could still be a joke. Eddie wouldn’t put it past some of the jocks in the school to put their girlfriends up to a long-con. Still, his heart’s fluttering like there’s a bird stuffed in there trying to get out.

It could be a joke. But Eddie’s already mentally picking out stationary and pondering word choices. There will be a letter tucked into the designated encyclopedia come tomorrow morning.

Eddie’s got a maiden to woo.

*** 

“What if he doesn’t respond?” Steve hisses in Chrissy’s ear.

She bats him away, which doesn’t seem like very good girlfriend behavior to Steve, but what does he know? He’s had exactly one real girlfriend, and she’d ditched him for another guy within the year.

“He’ll respond,” Chrissy whispers back, soothing his anxiety with a gentle pat to his shoulders.

The library’s not as empty as it was the last few times. Steve feels his heartbeat kick up every time someone looks up from their coursework and glances their way. At this rate, all his hair’s going to turn gray, ruining his best feature well before there’s even a flicker of a chance to kiss Eddie Munson on the lips.

“Why did we pick the library?” Steve asks.

Chrissy pauses in front of the bookcase holding the damning shelf of encyclopedias. She raises her eyebrow at him and asks, “what, you’d prefer the boy’s bathroom?” drolly.

“I remember when I thought you were nice,” Steve mutters quietly enough that he hopes she can’t hear him. By the way she rolls her eyes, he has no such luck.

Then, without further prompting, she bends down and pulls the WXYZ encyclopedia off the shelf. Steve’s heartbeat ratchets up as he peers over her crouched head and watches her dainty hand flip the cover open. There, tucked between the front board and the cover page, is a crisply folded piece of paper clearly ripped carelessly out of someone’s notebook.

Steve doesn’t care; he’d still open it if it was written on a used piece of toilet paper.

He reaches down past where Chrissy is still crouched to retrieve the note, but just like before, she slaps his hand back.

“Chrissy!”

She doesn’t respond, just plucks the note and slides the encyclopedia back into its place. Once standing, she links her arm with his, running soothing fingers up and down his forearm even as she pulls him along toward the back of the library.

She pushes him down into a vacant chair with deceptively strong arms; he always forgets how difficult cheerleading must be. Once he’s slumped into his own chair, she pulls the one across the table to his side and seats herself primly on it, legs crossed at her thighs.

Only then does she unfold the note and lay it gently on the table in front of him.

       Secret Admirer,

       I don’t know if this is a prank or if you genuinely like me, so I’m not really sure what to say. No one’s ever had a crush on me before, at least that I know of.  

       I didn’t know my hair was nice. My uncle keeps trying to get me to cut it. One time I brushed it and it was so poofy I wore a bandanna until I washed it again. But you probably didn’t need to know that. I’m glad you like it though.

       The paper you picked is really pretty, and I can smell the perfume you sprayed on the envelope. Fresh flowers in the spring, or a sunny day.

       –Eddie

       P.S. You can keep writing. Your notes have been the best part of my days, and I hope mine will be for you, too.

Steve reads it over and over again. Eddie’s handwriting is spiky, but carefully rendered to be readable. The post script takes a little more squinting at the page, letters and words crowding over one another like he’d added it at the last minute.

From the few classes they’ve shared, a small part of Steve was worried he wouldn’t be able to read it at all. But, no, Eddie’d taken the time to smooth out each letter, even while half convinced this was a prank. And the bit about his Uncle and his poofy hair? Adorable.

Steve brushes his fingers reverently over the words, half afraid they’ll smudge beneath his fingers. His face aches from the force of his smile.

“What should I say back?” Steve asks, looking up at Chrissy, feeling manic, hopeful, brave. Only then does he notice her carefully averted gaze, the way her body is turned just slightly away. He pushes the page toward her. “Come on, Chris, read it.”

She leans back toward him, smiling as she readjusts her body in a better position to read. “I didn’t want to presume.”

“Aren’t couples supposed to share?” Steve asks, because even when he’s happy enough to beam light straight out of his pores, he’s fundamentally a bitch.

Chrissy doesn’t respond, already too absorbed in Eddie’s words to pay him any attention, not that he can blame her. Steve waits, bursting with stupid, tender feelings until she’s read the thing through and put the page back on the table, placed perfectly between them.

“So, what should I say?” Steve asks.

Chrissy, never one to make things easy on him, starts the way she’s started every other letter-writing session so far: “What do you want to say?”

*** 

The letter her and Steve had written together is in her bag, Steve understandably too fearful to carry it himself. She’d taken it home, used her nicer stationery and a decorative envelope because, as Steve had pointed out repeatedly, Eddie’d seemed to appreciate how pretty the last letter was.

He’d sounded almost wretched when he said it, like proof that Eddie liked the pretty embellishments she’d put on his words was all he’d needed to know that his feelings would never be reciprocated.

She hadn’t known what to say.

So, she’d taken it home, gussied it up, and brought it back to the school, waiting for an opportune moment to push it through the slats of Eddie’s locker.

Steve’s been walking her to class and to lunch, playing the dutiful boyfriend up. She likes it, all this time with him.

He’s the best boyfriend she’s ever had.

Jason, his only competition for the title, has looked more and more pinch-faced every time they’ve crossed paths. She wishes, almost, that he’d yell at her, hit her, do something. It feels like waiting for a bomb to blow.

It’s not a surprise when the explosion finally hits.

“Are you serious, Chrissy?” Jason asks, and she spins, heartbeat rabbiting in her chest to find him storming toward her. And there’s a look on his face that she’s never seen before–not even when they’d broken up that first time.

His eyes are hard, mouth open like he’s one second away from shouting, and as he speaks, both his fists clench as he steps toward her. She can’t help the way she stumbles back into Steve, feeling comforted as his arm comes out to steady her.

“You replaced me with him?” and he sneers that last word, like Steve’s gum he’s scraping off his shoe.

Jason used to go on and on about Steve back in their Freshman year, before whatever the hell that had happened with Nancy Wheeler had mellowed him out. Before that, he’d been the unmitigated king. King of the keg stand, sure, but king of the court, king of the cafeteria, king of them all, and Jason had deferred to him.

But after, as Steve closed in on himself–Carol and Tommy still distant placeholders at his sides– Jason hadn’t talked about him anymore. Like he was infected now, and whatever he had might be spreading.

Chrissy'd only liked Steve more.

So, she shores herself up with the pressure of Steve’s arm on her back and points a shaking finger directly into Jason’s enraged face. “We broke up, Jason Carver,” she says, surprised when her voice doesn’t even crack. “It’s none of your business who I see.”

Jason’s mouth hangs open, clearly shocked, and a small part of Chrissy aches for how it was before. She always thought they’d be those high school sweethearts who got married right out of college. They’d just fit, or she thought they had.

He used to be nicer, sweet almost, in the way he’d talk to her.

It’d been a long time since Chrissy would classify any of the words coming out of his mouth as sweet.

Jason’s looking between them, eyes wide, something hurt leeching in past all that anger as he says, “you’ll come back,” in such quiet assurance that it makes her gut twist.

Chrissy watches him turn and walk away, stuck in the moment, until Steve squeezes her waist and asks, “are you alright, babe?”

It’s only with the word “babe” falling out of Steve’s lips that she realizes they’ve attracted an audience. So, she smiles like she’s leading a cheer for all to see, looks up into Steve’s eyes and replies, “never better.”

They continue on their way into lunch.

Once there, she eats as Steve watches Eddie’s latest table-top rant with hearts in his eyes big enough to see from the moon. Like he hadn’t given an almost identical one the week before. Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He’s transfixed, like Eddie’s a succubus and Steve’s stuck in his thrall. Until she elbows him in the side and he goes back to his lunch after shooting her a wounded look.

Boys in love are stupid creatures, and she’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect this one, even if it’s just from himself.

PART 3

[bratzkoo]

barely yours | mingyu pt. 1

Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: rockstar! mingyu x reader Word Count: 3.8k Genre: fluff, angst, smut-ish Rating: NC-17 Possible Warnings: mingyu is an idiot. not descriptive sex but there's sex. written in third person.

Summary: you flirt, you fuck, but when you hint that you want to be more he dismissed it as if you’re joking... and when you decide to ignore him he comes back with flowers at your doorstep.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): ​ find other parts here! pt. 2 | pt. 3

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The pulsating bass reverberated through the arena, sending tremors through the floor and up Hwang Y/N's spine. She stood in the wings, watching as the last chords of "Midnight Reverie" faded away, replaced by the deafening roar of the crowd. Her eyes were fixed on one figure in particular – Kim Mingyu, the lead guitarist of HHT, his tall frame silhouetted against the blinding stage lights.

Sweat glistened on Mingyu's brow as he raised his guitar in triumph, a broad grin spreading across his face. The rest of the band – Seungcheol on lead vocals, Vernon on bass, and Wonwoo on drums– joined him at the front of the stage for their final bow. Y/N felt a flutter in her chest as Mingyu's gaze swept across the wings, landing on her for a brief, electric moment before he turned back to the audience.

As the band made their way offstage, Y/N stepped back, allowing the crew to rush past with equipment. She watched as Mingyu handed off his guitar to a tech, running a hand through his damp, tousled hair. When he spotted her, his eyes lit up with a mischievous glint.

"Enjoy the show?" Mingyu asked, his voice husky from two hours of performing.

Y/N quirked an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "It was alright, I suppose. I've seen better."

Mingyu clutched his chest in mock hurt. "You wound me, Hwang Y/N. And here I thought I'd impressed you with my guitar solo."

"Oh, is that what that noise was?" Y/N teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I thought a cat was being strangled."

Their banter was interrupted as Seungcheol approached, clapping Mingyu on the shoulder. "Great show, man. You coming to the afterparty?"

Mingyu's eyes flickered to Y/N before he answered. "Nah, I think I'll sit this one out. Got some... uh, post-show decompressing to do."

Seungcheol followed Mingyu's gaze, a knowing smirk crossing his face when he spotted Y/N. "I see. Well, don't 'decompress' too hard. We've got that radio interview tomorrow afternoon."

As Seungcheol walked away, Mingyu turned back to Y/N, his expression shifting from playful to something more intense. "So, about that decompressing..."

Y/N felt a familiar heat coil in her stomach. She knew exactly what Mingyu was suggesting, and despite her better judgment, she wanted it too. "Your place or mine?" she asked, her voice low.

"Yours," Mingyu replied without hesitation. "It's closer, and I don't think I can wait."

The ride to Y/N's apartment was charged with anticipation. They sat in the back of her chauffeur-driven car, careful to maintain a respectable distance despite the electricity crackling between them. Y/N could feel Mingyu's eyes on her, tracing the curve of her neck, the line of her collarbone exposed by her off-shoulder top.

As they rode in silence, Y/N found herself reflecting on how they'd gotten to this point. She remembered the first time she'd seen Mingyu perform, at a small club showcase before HHT had hit it big. She'd been there on her father's orders, to scout new talent, but she'd found herself captivated by the tall, charismatic guitarist with the killer smile.

Later, at the afterparty, they'd gotten into a heated debate about the merits of classic rock versus modern pop. Y/N had been impressed by Mingyu's passion and knowledge, even as she'd argued against him just for the fun of seeing his eyes light up with indignation. The tension between them had been palpable, and when Mingyu had suggested they continue their "discussion" somewhere more private, Y/N hadn't hesitated.

That night had been the start of their current arrangement. No strings, no expectations, just two people who enjoyed each other's company – in and out of bed. It had seemed perfect at the time. Y/N got the excitement and passion she craved without the complications of a real relationship, and Mingyu got to blow off steam with someone who understood the pressures of the industry.

But lately, Y/N had found herself wanting more. She caught herself daydreaming about quiet nights in, about holding hands in public, about being able to call Mingyu hers. It was dangerous territory, and she knew it. But she couldn't seem to help herself.

The car pulled up to Y/N's building, jerking her out of her reverie. As they made their way up to her penthouse, the air between them grew thick with anticipation. Y/N's hands trembled slightly as she unlocked her door, hyperaware of Mingyu's presence behind her.

As soon as they were inside her penthouse apartment, Mingyu had her pressed against the door, his lips crashing into hers with a hunger that made her knees weak. Y/N responded with equal fervor, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

"God, I've been thinking about this all night," Mingyu growled against her neck, his hands roaming her body with practiced ease.

Y/N gasped as he found a particularly sensitive spot. "Is that why you kept messing up the bridge in 'Starlight Serenade'?" she teased breathlessly.

Mingyu pulled back, his eyes narrowing playfully. "I did not mess up."

"Oh, you definitely did," Y/N insisted, her hands slipping under his shirt to trace the hard planes of his abs. "But don't worry, your adoring fans probably didn't notice."

With a growl, Mingyu hoisted her up, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. "I'll show you who's messing up," he threatened playfully, carrying her towards the bedroom.

They fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, hands frantically removing clothing. Y/N reveled in the feeling of Mingyu's skin against hers, the heat of his body igniting a fire within her. His lips trailed down her neck, across her collarbone, leaving a path of tingling sensations in their wake.

"Mingyu," she breathed, arching into him as his hands found all the places that made her see stars.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, before capturing her lips in another searing kiss.

What followed was a symphony of sighs, moans, and whispered names. They moved together with the familiarity of long-time lovers, knowing exactly how to draw out each other's pleasure. Y/N lost herself in the sensations, in the feeling of Mingyu's body moving with hers, in the intensity of his gaze as he watched her come undone beneath him.

When they finally collapsed, spent and satisfied, Y/N felt a contentment that went beyond mere physical release. She curled into Mingyu's side, her head resting on his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart as it slowly returned to normal.

"That was..." she trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Mingyu chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, it was," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

As they lay there, catching their breath, Y/N found herself studying Mingyu's profile. The sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips – every feature was achingly familiar, yet she never tired of looking at him. In moments like these, when the world outside ceased to exist and it was just the two of them, Y/N could almost believe that what they had was more than just a casual arrangement.

Mingyu must have sensed her gaze because he turned to face her, a lazy smile curving his lips. "What's going on in that head of yours, Hwang Y/N?"

Y/N hesitated, weighing her words carefully. She knew the rules of their arrangement, knew that feelings weren't supposed to be part of the equation. But lately, she'd found it harder and harder to stick to those rules. "I was just thinking," she began slowly, "about us."

Mingyu's eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh? And what about us were you thinking?"

Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Have you ever wondered if... if maybe we could be more than this?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them, hanging in the air between them like a fragile bubble.

For a moment, Mingyu's expression was unreadable. Then, to Y/N's dismay, he burst out laughing. "More than this? Come on, Y/N, don't tell me you're going soft on me."

Y/N felt her heart sink, but she forced a smile, playing along. "Of course not. I was just joking. Can you imagine us in a real relationship? It'd be a disaster."

Mingyu's laughter subsided, but his eyes remained bright with amusement. "Exactly. We're perfect the way we are. No strings, no complications. Just good times and great sex."

"Right," Y/N agreed, ignoring the twinge in her chest. "Just the way we like it."

Mingyu pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You had me worried for a second there. I thought I was going to have to let you down easy."

Y/N forced a chuckle, burying her face in his chest to hide the hurt in her eyes. "As if. You should know by now, Mingyu, I'm not the relationship type."

As Mingyu's breathing evened out, signaling he had drifted off to sleep, Y/N remained awake, her mind whirling. She thought about the first time they'd met, at one of her father's lavish industry parties. Mingyu had been the cocky new talent, fresh off HHT's debut showcase. Y/N had been the jaded industry princess, used to up-and-coming stars trying to curry favor with the CEO's daughter.

Their initial interaction had been all barbed words and challenging glares, a clash of egos that had somehow morphed into heated kisses in a secluded corner of her father's mansion. From that night on, they'd fallen into an easy pattern of flirtation and secret rendezvous, both adamant that it was nothing more than physical attraction and convenience.

But somewhere along the way, at least for Y/N, things had changed. She found herself looking forward to Mingyu's texts, not just for the promise of a passionate encounter, but for the witty banter and inside jokes they shared. She caught herself smiling at his antics during interviews, feeling a surge of pride when he nailed a particularly difficult guitar riff during performances.

Y/N had tried to ignore these growing feelings, to convince herself that what they had was enough. But nights like these, with Mingyu's arm draped casually over her waist and his steady heartbeat under her ear, made it increasingly difficult to maintain the illusion.

She thought about her reputation in the industry – the party girl, the wild child, the one who was always good for a good time but never for anything serious. It was an image she'd cultivated carefully, partly as a defense mechanism against those who would use her for her connections, and partly as a way to rebel against her father's strict control.

Mingyu fit perfectly into that image. Their arrangement was the epitome of no-strings-attached, exactly what everyone expected of her. But for the first time in her life, Y/N found herself wanting more, wanting something real and lasting.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through her curtains, Y/N made a decision. She couldn't keep doing this, couldn't keep pretending that Mingyu was just a fun distraction. It wasn't fair to either of them.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, Y/N extricated herself from Mingyu's embrace. She padded quietly to her closet, pulling on a silk robe before making her way to the kitchen. As she waited for the coffee maker to finish brewing, she leaned against the counter, trying to gather her thoughts.

She knew what she had to do, but the thought of it made her chest ache. How did you end something that had never officially begun? How did you walk away from someone who had become such an integral part of your life without even realizing it?

The soft ping of the coffee maker pulled Y/N from her reverie. She poured two cups, doctoring Mingyu's with the perfect amount of cream and sugar – when had she memorized how he liked his coffee? – before heading back to the bedroom.

Mingyu was just stirring as she entered, his hair adorably mussed and his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Morning, beautiful," he mumbled, a slow smile spreading across his face as he spotted the coffee in her hands.

Y/N felt her resolve waver at the sight of him, all soft and warm in her bed. But she steeled herself, handing him his cup before perching on the edge of the mattress. "Mingyu, we need to talk."

Mingyu sat up, suddenly alert. "That sounds ominous. What's up?"

Y/N took a deep breath, staring into her coffee cup as if it held the answers she sought. "I think... I think we need to stop this. Whatever this is between us."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Mingyu spoke, his voice carefully neutral. "Where is this coming from, Y/N? I thought we were good."

"We are," Y/N assured him quickly, finally looking up to meet his confused gaze. "That's... that's kind of the problem. We're too good. I'm starting to want things I shouldn't want, things we agreed we wouldn't want."

Understanding dawned in Mingyu's eyes, followed quickly by something that looked suspiciously like panic. "Y/N, come on. We talked about this last night. You said you were joking about the relationship thing."

"I lied," Y/N admitted softly. "I didn't want you to know how I really felt. But I can't keep pretending, Mingyu. It's not fair to either of us."

Mingyu set his coffee aside, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "So, what? You're just going to end things because you're developing feelings? That's bullshit, Y/N, and you know it."

Y/N felt a flare of anger at his dismissive tone. "What would you have me do, Mingyu? Keep sleeping with you while my feelings grow stronger? Watch you flirt with other girls and pretend it doesn't kill me inside? I'm trying to protect myself here."

"Protect yourself?" Mingyu scoffed. "Sounds more like you're running away. I thought you were stronger than that, Y/N."

His words hit her like a physical blow. Y/N stood abruptly, needing to put some distance between them. "You don't get to judge me for this, Mingyu. We had an arrangement, and now I'm ending it. That's my right."

Mingyu threw off the covers, standing to face her. "And what about my rights? Don't I get a say in this?"

"What's there to say?" Y/N challenged, her voice rising despite her best efforts to stay calm. "You made it clear last night that you don't want anything more than what we have. And I can't settle for that anymore."

For a moment, Mingyu looked like he wanted to argue further. But then his expression shuttered, his posture stiffening. "Fine. If that's what you want, consider it done. We're over."

Y/N felt her heart fracture at the finality in his tone, but she forced herself to nod. "Thank you for understanding."

Mingyu began gathering his clothes, dressing with quick, angry movements. Y/N watched him, memorizing every detail – the way his muscles flexed as he pulled on his shirt, the furrow between his brows as he concentrated on tying his shoelaces. She wondered if this would be the last time she saw him like this, rumpled and beautiful in the morning light.

As Mingyu headed for the door, he paused, turning back to face her. For a moment, Y/N thought he might say something, might fight for her, for them. But he just shook his head, his expression a mix of frustration and something that looked almost like regret.

"I'll see you around, Y/N," he said finally, his voice devoid of its usual warmth.

And then he was gone, the soft click of the door closing behind him echoing in the sudden silence of Y/N's apartment. She stood there for a long moment, staring at the spot where he had been, feeling as though she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life.

But it was for the best, she she told herself firmly. Better to end things now, before she fell any deeper. Before the inevitable heartbreak became too much to bear.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N made her way to the bathroom. She had a busy day ahead – meetings to attend, appearances to make. The world wouldn't stop turning just because her heart was breaking.

As she stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the lingering scent of Mingyu's cologne, Y/N made a silent vow. She would move on. She would forget about Kim Mingyu and their stolen moments of happiness. She would go back to being Hwang Y/N, the carefree party girl who didn't need anyone or anything.

But even as she made this promise to herself, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered a traitorous thought: What if Mingyu was right? What if she was running away from the best thing that had ever happened to her?

Y/N shook her head, banishing the thought. It was done. Over. And no matter how much it hurt now, she knew it was the right decision.

Wasn't it?

As she dried off and began her makeup routine, Y/N's phone buzzed with a series of notifications. She ignored them at first, assuming they were the usual morning barrage of emails and social media alerts. But when it kept buzzing insistently, she finally picked it up.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Mingyu's name on the screen. For a moment, hope flared in her chest. Had he changed his mind? Did he want to talk things through?

But as she read through the messages, her hope quickly turned to dismay.

"Y/N, what the hell? You can't just end things like this." "We need to talk. For real this time." "Answer your damn phone."

The last message was followed by three missed call notifications. Y/N's thumb hovered over the call back button, but she hesitated. What good would talking do? She'd made her decision. They both needed a clean break.

With a deep breath, she typed out a response: "I'm sorry, Mingyu. But I meant what I said. It's over. Please don't call again."

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, then promptly blocked his number. It was harsh, she knew, but necessary. If she left any line of communication open, she'd be too tempted to reach out, to take it all back.

As she finished getting ready, Y/N tried to focus on the day ahead. She had a lunch meeting with her father to discuss HHT's upcoming comeback, followed by a charity event in the evening. She chose her outfit carefully – a sleek black pantsuit that screamed 'professional' rather than 'party girl'. Today, she needed all the armor she could get.

The drive to her father's office was mercifully short. As she walked through the lobby of Pledis Entertainment, Y/N held her head high, ignoring the curious glances and whispered conversations that followed in her wake. Let them talk. They always did.

Her father's secretary waved her straight through to his office. CEO Hwang looked up from his computer as she entered, his stern features softening slightly at the sight of his daughter.

"Y/N," he greeted, gesturing for her to take a seat. "You're early. That's a pleasant surprise."

Y/N managed a small smile as she sat across from him. "I aim to keep you on your toes, Dad."

Her father chuckled, but his amusement quickly faded as he studied her face. "Is everything alright? You look... tired."

For a moment, Y/N considered telling him everything. About Mingyu, about her feelings, about the mess she'd made of things. But she knew her father would never understand. In his world, relationships were just another business transaction, a way to gain influence or solidify alliances.

"I'm fine," she lied smoothly. "Just stayed out a bit late last night. You know how it is after a big concert."

Her father's expression tightened slightly, but he didn't push the issue. Instead, he launched into a discussion about HHT's upcoming schedules, their new album concept, and the marketing strategy for their next single.

Y/N listened attentively, making notes and offering suggestions where appropriate. But a part of her mind kept drifting back to Mingyu. How would this affect the band? Would things be awkward now at company events? Would she have to avoid their performances altogether?

"Y/N? Are you listening?"

Her father's sharp tone snapped her back to attention. "Sorry, what was that last part?"

CEO Hwang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I said, I want you to take a more active role in HHT's management. You've got a good eye for talent, and you understand their demographic better than some of our older executives."

Y/N felt her stomach drop. "Dad, I don't think that's a good idea. I'm not really-"

"This isn't a request, Y/N," her father cut her off. "It's time you started taking your position in this company seriously. No more parties, no more scandals. I need you focused."

Y/N wanted to argue, to tell him that she wasn't ready for that kind of responsibility. But the determined look in her father's eyes told her it would be pointless. Instead, she nodded stiffly. "Understood."

As she left the office an hour later, Y/N felt like the walls were closing in around her. Not only had she lost Mingyu, but now she was being forced into a role she'd never wanted. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly?

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost collided with someone as she rounded a corner. "I'm sorry, I wasn't-" she began, then froze as she realized who it was.

Seungcheol stood before her, his usually friendly face twisted with concern and something that looked like anger. "Y/N," he said, his voice low and urgent. "We need to talk about Mingyu."

Y/N felt her carefully constructed facade begin to crumble. As she looked into Seungcheol's eyes, she realized that her decision to end things with Mingyu had set off a chain of events that she couldn't control. And this was only the beginning.

[wosofutbolfan]

When Somebody Loved Me (Everything Was Beautiful)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

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

Songfic

WC: 17k. Check TW inside.

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

Hi Guys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was raining on the day that you met her.

That was strange. For Barcelona. The rain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe tomorrow niña. There is always tomorrow”.

Well. Turns out dads are clever.

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

“Putellas!! Get back here! Pute-...”

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

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

You didn't know what to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was banned from playing.

The team lost. 

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

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

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

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

Your Alex. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Mi and y/f/n…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t care. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have chosen to showcase your best landscapes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Weeks passed.

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

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

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

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

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

A ghost of the woman she was. 

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

Finally, Word you were alive. 

3 words in fact. “It’ll pass Alexia.”

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 2.5

summary: you bump into Miles at the bodega. whoops.

wc: 900+

warnings: implied food insecurity, wasted sandwich </3

prev next

…Or so you thought.

Standing right in front of you in the crowded bodega ordering a beef patty was none other than Mr. Morales himself, drowning in a huge black puffer jacket. As soon as he finished, he stood off to the side, eyes glued to the floor and shifting from one foot to the other.

“What you want, miss?” The man at the counter broke you out of your reverie, looking impatient.

“Sorry, just a BLT, please,” you called out over the din of music and loud conversation. The man nodded, yelling out your order to two other men standing over a hot stove beside him. 

You moved to the side, near the snack aisle where Miles was standing. His eyes seemed to remain on the ground, so you sneak glances at the side of his face, starting from his ears. They were pierced, but currently barren. You move up to his cheek, where a stray lash has fallen. The boy's lashes were just long enough to brush it. They fluttered as his pupil darted to the side, and you realized that you were making eye contact.

"Whoah, can I get my face back?"

Miles had caught you just before your eyes could flicker away. He had that same ‘the sky is blue’ look that he gave you on the first day you were seated together. You quickly turned away without a word, opting to examine the snacks lining the rack behind you.

“No ‘hello’?”

You spun around, bag of Takis in-hand.

“What?”

“You just gon’ stare into my skull and not even say ‘hello’?”

You scoffed at the boy’s sudden interest in etiquette.

“Fine, hi.”

One of the cooks called out both of your orders, sliding them across the counter wrapped in aluminum foil as the two of you went up to the front.

“Bye.”

Miles grabbed his food first before weaving through the crowd towards the exit.

That is, until you try to squeeze out of the door before him. Your face plants into the plush material of his jacket before you stumble onto the cracked sidewalk outside, your poor sandwich open on the ground before you could even take a bite.

Groaning, you hear a few ‘Ohhh’s behind you as you squat to pick the two halves up to throw them out. This was supposed to be your dinner.

Miles watches you toss them into a nearby trash can, and makes a decision.

“Yo,” he waved you over. His face looked like it was holding onto a laugh, and you rolled your eyes.

“Now is really not the time, Morales.”

“So I guess you not tryna eat, then?”

You paused, and looked at the boy skeptically. He didn’t seem like the type to be above making you eat things off the floor. As if you had communicated with him telepathically, Miles shrugs his shoulders and nods.

“That’s fair,” he says to himself. 

Your eyebrows raise in surprise when he makes long strides over to you instead. He carefully opens up the aluminum to reveal the golden pastry inside, and you watch him carefully split it in half with his fingers before offering the piece. You look up at Miles, then the patty, then back up at Miles. His expression softened into a knowing look.

“I’m not gonna ask for no money back, if that’s what’s on your mind.”

Finally, you take it. It was either this, or Takis and sleep for dinner.

 “Thanks.”

The sky had taken on a deep blue shade, and worry crept onto your features as the street lights began to flicker on.

“I gotta walk home,” you said flatly. “See you tomorrow–”

“By yourself?”

Even as it got dark, you could make out the deep frown on Miles’ face.

“It’s not that far, relax.”

“How far?”

Your tongue pushed against the inside of your cheek before you muttered, “Three blocks…”

Miles stuck his hands in his pockets. “Look, ion like yo’ ass, but I can’t have you walking around here by yourself in the dark. Lemme walk you two blocks,” he put two fingers for emphasis, “at least.”

You tilted your head at him, but agreed. 

“Slow down,” you complained as you struggled to keep up with the long-legged boy. The both of you had been walking for barely twenty minutes, but your feet were already starting to hurt from having to jog up to him.

“Walk faster,” Miles laughed. 

Silence settled in between you as the streets got quieter, save for the bustling of traffic in the distance.

“Is it true what people say about you?” you ask, suddenly breaking it.

“Be more specific.”

“Like, are you in a gang? You don’t gotta tell me which. And how the hell you flunk outta school on purpose? Do you really do graffiti-”

“First of all, I’m not in no fuckin’ gang,” Miles had stopped walking abruptly. “You see any tats on me?”

“You’re wearing a coat.”

You hear Miles suck his teeth, and snicker.

“Well, I don’t have one. My momma would put me in the dirt if I did,”

He resumed his speed-walking, and you break into another light jog to stay next to him. “The other two are true, though.”

“Why?” you ask, a little out of breath.

“Do you know how to use complete sentences?”

“Why’d you flunk on purpose? Graffiti, I can understand. That, I can't.”

Miles was silent for a few moments, and you considered retracting the question before he finally replied.

“Visions…wasn’t really for me.”

You want to press further, piece together how a kid with a strict mother and a knack for advanced calculus could just…decide that school ‘wasn’t for him’. But the way he mumbled his answer told you he wouldn’t divulge any more, and your house was just up ahead. You’d walked all three blocks.

“This is me,” you say as you slow your pace. “Thanks again.”

“Yup, g’night,” Miles calls behind him, already strolling in the opposite direction.

-

Whew, okay! I hope y’all enjoy this one even though it’s technically not a full chapter. Now I’ll ACTUALLY give myself a week to work on the next one lmao. As always, feel free to leave any reactions, questions, or comments in replies/tags/my asks! thx for reading <3

[xcherryerim]

˖⁺ ⊹୨ Love Across Time ୧⊹ ⁺˖

Assistant Josh x (gn) Teacher reader

There's so much trauma in my life. I've been so cold to the ones who loved me, baby. — Out of Time by The weeknd

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18

WARNING: Sexual tension | Jealous reader | Voyeurism (?) | oral sex to reader | penetration | in the middle of sex love confession and rambles | Porn with plot | Not proofread (literally did not revised this once so, shitty probably) | ‘funny’ part at the end. | terrible reference to star wars. | no use of y/n. | quicky

Backstory: Josh, a time traveler and savior of the world, has found himself stuck in the early 2000s and has become a teacher's assistant. Despite his best efforts to keep his distance from you, the teacher he is assisting, Josh finds himself irresistibly drawn to you. leading Josh on a journey of self-discovery and romance as he tries to navigate this new timeline.

The classroom was filled with the sound of students chattering. The hum of conversation and your voice fills the air, punctuated by the occasional clatter of papers and the shuffling of chairs. A faint scent of coffee and ink permeates the room, mingling with the soft glow of fluorescent lights overhead.

You were In front of the board, carefully going over the lecture, trying not to leave any detail behind. Next to you, there was your assistant, Josh, seated on the desk.

As usual, he paid attention to the lesson as if he was one of the students. He bit into the base of his pen, eyes scanning the board and its content, eventually landing in your hands. Admiring the softness and delicate moves they made.

Consumed by his pent-up desires, Josh's mind drifted, painting vivid scenarios where your skilled hands explored his body, tracing the contours and caressing every inch he craved.

Is not that Josh didn’t have game, on the contrary, multiple staff members and students flirted with him from time to time, but he fully decided to be celibate.

Did he hate it? Of course, years, or to better say, centuries ago, he was a sex god in ‘Heven’, and now he is forcing himself to not have any type of intercourse. He didn’t want to get attached to someone.

It would be hard to explain the traumas and adventures he gained from saving the world with Wolf and Tiger. He didn’t even attempt to make friends, he was too scared to slip up things from the future to a person living in the year 2002. He was way too fearful of the repercussions. What if he ends up in those TV shows about crazy people, or even worse, a mental institute?

So, he found comfort in spacing out, imagining a retro (to himself at least) suburbian life with you, never daring to get too close.

He shifted his head, the motion accompanied by a deep groan, the weight of his unfulfilled desires bearing down on him. An innocent student's gaze caught him off guard, snapping him out of his reverie, a reminder that the world continued without regard for his internal struggles.

‘Did he notice? Did he… read my mind? Well, that’s embarrassing.’ He thought.

With an awkward cough, Josh stood straight and adjusted his gray polo, trying to remain calm. His eyes drifted to the white clock on the wall and gave you the subtle signal that it was time to end the class.

“Alright class please remember, this is our last lesson. The final is tomorrow, so I beg each of you to study so you can pass the class.”

At your final announcement, you turned your head to the side, seeing Josh’s cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink as some of your students approached him with gifts. Some students handed him letters, and gift bags, while others brought food and candy.

The assistant mumbled his thanks, feeling a mixture of gratitude and self-consciousness as he accepted each gift. His body language was noticeably reserved, with his shoulders hunched and eyes darting around the room as if wishing to disappear into the background. Despite his shyness, he managed a small smile for each student who approached him, clearly touched by the gesture.

As the last student handed over a small gift and bid farewell, you found yourself walking up to your assistant. Your eyes lingered on the array of gift bags, specifically the soft pink one with a bow. A bitter taste filled your mouth as you tried to mask the annoyance you felt.

"Looks like you're quite popular," you quipped, forcing a smile.

“Oh no. They were just being nice.” Josh's index finger tapped into the bag you had your eyes on, filling in the awkward silence as he bit his lip.

Josh wanted to say more, but he couldn't find the words. His dirty mind conjured up fantasies of what he could do to you, right there in the classroom, but he quickly dismissed them. He was just an assistant, after all. Yet, he couldn't stop his eyes from trailing up and down your body, taking in every curve and every inch.

“Well.” You said, “Let’s go to my office.” With that, you cleaned the board, before gathering your things and walked right next to your assistant.

Once you entered your office, he shut the door behind you, the sound echoing in his ears. He couldn't help but notice how the room felt like a shrine dedicated to you. Pictures, certificates, and awards decorated the walls while your desk was clean and organized.

Seated across from you, fidgeting in his chair, the tension in the room clear. A wicked grin spread across his face as he imagined sliding his hands up your thighs, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath the material of your underwear. The thought made his pulse race, and he couldn't help but shift in his seat to adjust himself discreetly.

Professional decorum clashed with the urge to act on his fantasies, but for now, he managed to keep up the ruse. He began grading the papers, nodding to himself as he read through the work.

Ever since the work party he was forced to go to, things have been awkward between you both. That night was the most he ever spoke to you, his drunk self slipping stuff he probably shouldn't have said, but he was lucky enough that both of you were out of your minds that night.

So out of your minds that, you almost kissed before Josh pulled away. Yes, it was bad, and he felt like an asshole, but it was for the better, and you knew that too. However, Josh still holds onto the thought you might like him back, and he's happy with that.

Your gaze lingered on the bags of gifts, trying to guess what they had inside. His eyes followed yours, smirking before you spoke.

“What’s in the bag anyways?”

"Oh, just the usual," he replied nonchalantly, reaching for the pink ribboned bag.

He pulled out a small box, the sweet aroma of strawberries and chocolate wafting through the air. "Strawberries," he began, lifting the lid to reveal the fruit coated in chocolate.

“At that point whoever gave you that should just confess to you already.”

You knew how your comment came across as that wasn’t your intention but who gives a gift like that to an assistant? No one unless they have ulterior motives.

Your snicker and roll of your eyes piqued his interest, and when you suggested that the students could just confess to him, he couldn't help but feel flushed with excitement. Your reactions hinted at something more than just the silent professional interest agreed upon, and he couldn't help but hope that you were feeling something akin to his desires. That this was meant to be, that maybe, just maybe, he will get his happy ending after all.

Josh's confidence soared as he plucked a strawberry from the box, savoring its sweetness, and allowing the chocolate to melt on his tongue. He relished the moment, exaggerating his sounds of pleasure, intentionally teasing you with the sensual display.

As his lips wrapped around the fruit, you couldn't help but feel a surge of heat spreading through your body, your ears reddening with each tantalizing moan. The way he held your gaze, a mischievous glint in his shiny brown eyes, only served to grow your desire.

Leaning closer to your desk, Josh held another strawberry out to you, beckoning you with a grin, "C'mon, you deserve it.”

You hesitated for a moment, shaking your head, the lingering resentment and unease preventing you from accepting the strawberry.

Josh, undeterred, approached you, his steps confident as he took a position directly in front of you. One arm rested casually on your desk, while the other extended the strawberry tantalizingly close to your lips.

His proximity left you feeling uneasy, a mixture of nerves and arousal warring within you. As he offered you the fruit once more, he repeated his invitation, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Enjoy the fruits of your labor," he whispered, his voice a seductive caress.

Your body trembled under the weight of his gaze, the challenge he laid before you clear as day.

"Josh..." You mumbled under your breath, your gaze meeting his, and you could see the hunger in his eyes. It mirrored your internal turmoil, the pull towards him growing stronger by the second.

Your indecision was evident, and Josh could sense your struggle. “C’mon,” Josh smirked, drawing even closer, the chocolate-coated fruit dancing on your lips. "Be good and take it for me."

You swallowed hard, a wave of nerves washing over you, before opening your mouth obediently to accept the offering. You nibbled at the strawberry, trying to eat it slowly and maintain your composure, avoiding direct eye contact.

However, Josh was having none of that. He grasped your chin firmly, tilting it upwards, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"That's it." He encouraged the satisfaction in his voice. His eyes lingered on you, committing the scene to memory, as the evidence of his arousal strained against his pants.

With bated breath, you slowly withdrew your lips from the strawberry, the lingering taste of sweet fruit coating your tongue. A pang of jealousy flared within you, knowing that this delight was originally meant for Josh.

An uncomfortable silence settled between you, both of you unsure of how to proceed. In Josh's mind, he wrestled with the turmoil of his desires, the allure of crossing this boundary he made for himself proving too powerful to resist.

Closing the gap between you, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss gentle, sweet, and innocent. As your lips parted, you could taste the remnants of the strawberry and chocolate within, a sensory delight that left you breathless.

Josh's hand cradled the side of your face, his touch both comforting and arousing. Simultaneously, he unzipped his pants, his arousal apparent and urgent. The realization of his intentions sent a shiver down your spine.

Just as you began to contemplate what would come next, Josh nipped at your bottom lip, causing a startled, wanton moan to escape your lips. His mouth trailed along your jawline, sending shivers rippling through your body like wildfire.

With trembling hands, you pushed Josh away, your voice wavering as you stammered, "Josh, this is wrong."

His expression blank, he tilted his head, clearly surprised by your refusal. "Because...", you hesitated, exhaling deeply, "we're coworkers and you're my assistant."

Undeterred, Josh leaned even closer, resting his hand on the desk. His doe-eyed gaze bore into you, pleading and disarming.

"I understand that, but...", he began, "there's only a one-year age difference between us. You started teaching here two… or three years ago, and I joined the training program a little over a year ago. It's not a significant gap."

His intensity increased as he brought his face nearer to yours, his hand tracing the collar of your shirt. His gaze flickered between your neck and your lips, laden with a potent mixture of desire and determination.

"And I really want this."

As if reading your indecision, Josh offered a tempting proposition, "You know, since your students think I was so helpful and even gave me gifts... don't you think I also deserve a gift from the teacher?"

Feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin, you were unable to ignore the raw appeal of his pleading gaze. A crippling combination of logic and desire, acknowledging that you were both consenting adults, threatened to break down your defenses.

Despite the fear and accelerating adrenaline coursing through your veins, you found yourself nodding, giving the green light. With unwavering resolve, Josh seized the moment, his lips seeking out the vulnerable expanse of your neck, nibbling hungrily.

As his hands deftly unbuttoned your blouse, you held tightly to the armrests of your chair, feeling the faint sting of the impending. You allowed him to indulge in his desires, silently acknowledging that he had harbored these feelings for quite some time by the way he was acting.

Lost in the spell of Josh's nearness, you were only vaguely aware of the commotion as papers and pens met the floor, the sound eclipsed by the tempest of emotions coursing through you.

Josh's movements, purposeful yet controlled, lifted you gently, depositing you on the desktop with a tenderness that matched the fervor in his eyes.

He stepped back, the hunger in his gaze unapologetic, as if you were the rarest gem in existence, a treasure coveted above all others.

“You are so beautiful.” He breathed out.

Licking his lips nervously, Josh closed the gap between you, his kiss tracing the curve of your shoulder as his hand continued to explore your body. Moving downward, his lips trailed along your chest, and ribcage, and finally reached to your thighs.

Meeting your gaze with a smug, self-satisfied smirk, Josh murmured, "You know... you deserve a good treat too."

His hand trembled as it snaked its way to your waistband, hesitating for a brief moment before liberating you from the confines of your garment. All that remained now was your underwear, a thin barrier between you and the intense desire simmering between you.

A pulse of anxiety shot through your veins. Was this right? The thought of having your hot assistant intimately nestled between your thighs seemed both appealing and alarming.

“You don’t—“

Before you could voice your uncertainty, Josh preempted your concern. "I want to," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"I want to so... so badly," he confessed, his lips dampening the fabric of your undergarments, betraying his eagerness.

You felt the vibrations of Josh's soft chuckle reverberate against your skin through the thin, damp fabric, causing your back to arch involuntarily.

“Stay still, alright?" he ordered, gripping your hips firmly. His teeth nipped at the edge of your underwear, sliding it down your legs with ease.

The overwhelming combination of pleasure and nerves left your body trembling, an involuntary reaction to the intensity of the situation.

Letting go of you, Josh moved to one of the desk cabinets, retrieving a ruler. He lifted the object, bringing it to eye-level with you.

"Told you not to move. Let's try that again, okay?" His commanding tone, paired with the unconventional implement, caught you off guard.

What had once been a modest, shy coworker now stood before you transformed into an irresistible embodiment of sexual desire. Your mind reeled at the sudden transformation, struggling to process how this turn of events came to pass.

"Okay... sorry," you stammered, your voice betrayed by the turbulent mix of excitement and nervousness.

Josh's reassuring words washed over you, "Shhh, it's okay." His lips found their way to the warm expanse between your thighs, trailing soft, wet kisses. The tender intimacy of his actions sent shivers coursing through your body.

Anxiety crept into his voice as he hesitated, "I—," his confession hung heavy in the air. "I haven't done this in decades... I mean years!" He cursed himself under his breath, eyes meeting yours with pleading vulnerability.

"Sorry if I'm not as good as you'll want me to be," he apologized sheepishly before resuming his exploration, his mouth filled with the taste of you.

Arching your back, you reveled in the pleasure of his skilled ministrations. Winding your fingers in his damp hair, you gently tugged, and a moan escaped his lips. Encouraged by his response, you pulled harder, grinning wickedly.

"Mmh, yes, please! Fuck. Pull my fucking hair, please."

The sound of footsteps in the corridor startled you, a surge of panic sending shivers down your spine. Frantic, you forced Josh's head further between your legs, the urgent need for silence overriding any other considerations.

"Shhh, shh!" you hissed, glancing towards the door, pleading for divine intervention to conceal your transgression.

Josh's focus, however, was entirely on the task at hand. His muffled words were swallowed by a fervent desire to savor the taste of you. A trail of saliva clung to his chin, a testament to his relentless enthusiasm. His mouth, lips, and tongue worshiped you with the desperation of a man starved for affection.

His whimpering, praises, and wet, slurping sounds filled the room, each moment amplifying the crescendo of pleasure. The realization of his prolonged abstinence did little to quell the heat emanating from your core.

On the brink of ecstasy, your legs trembled with the strain of resisting the imminent climax.

"J...Josh?" you called out, gently tugging his hair to draw his attention away from his task. His face, glistening with perspiration and droplets of saliva, met your gaze, his eyes gleaming with an intensity borne from devotion.

At that moment, you found yourself smitten by his earnestness. "Can we try something different?" you asked, unable to resist the curiosity kindling in your psyche.

A smirk spread across Josh's face, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he nodded in affirmation.

Positioning you, he laid your back against the wooden surface of the desk, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you watched him hastily attempt to remove his pants. The task proved more arduous than anticipated, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

Josh's breath hitched, "You're so hot, fuck," he muttered, his hand stroking himself as his lips pressed a searing kiss to your entrance.

Teasing you mercilessly, he moved his hips, the tip of his erection teasing your slick opening. You whimpered in frustration.

"Stop being a tease," you demanded, annoyed and embarrassed by his playful torment.

"You're right, sorry," he admitted, flushing a deep shade of red. "I've, I—" He groaned, cursing under his breath. "Fuck."

Josh's gaze held yours, sincerity etched into his features. "I like you. I don't think I ever liked someone like this before. You're so hot and smart, I love your voice, how you explain stuff to me without making me feel like an idiot and your humor." His smile was tender, genuine.

"I love your laugh too, even if you hate it. And, fuck, I've been... I imagined us like this but not, not like this, like this, you know?"

His brow furrowed, lips biting into his bottom lip. "I ruined it, didn't I?" Concern lurked beneath his words.

You chuckled, reaching out to trace your fingertips along his cheek, "Yeah, and you were so good at keeping the dominant role earlier." Admittedly, you found his vulnerability endearing.

"I like you, and I've thought of this too," you confessed, your heart pounding in your chest with every whispered syllable.

Your tone shifted, growing more serious, "To be honest, that gift pissed me off."

Josh's reaction to your accusation was immediate, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "The strawberries? Yeah, I could tell."

His admission confirmed your suspicions, and with a playful scoff, you retorted, "Asshole."

You beat his shoulder lightly with feigned aggression, laughter echoing through the room.

"Out of all the gifts I’ve gotten tonight, no, out of all the gifts I’ve had, ever," Josh began, "you're the best one.” He said before thinking deeply. “Well, no, you're the second. The first one was when I got a signed DVD of Star Wars, Episode Seven: The Force Awakens."

Confusion clouded your expression, "Episode seven?"

Josh stammered, realizing you wouldn't comprehend the reference to a film that, for you, was lightyears ahead.

"Uhm... forget it. I was joking since you know." A nervous laugh followed his retreat. "Anyways, where were we? Oh, yeah, fucking! Uhm.”

Time to reveal he was from the future, his adventures, saving the world, and landing in 2000—it was a story better suited for the future.

Josh seized the moment, thrusting into you with urgency. The distraction worked, the sudden invasion of his sizable girth stealing your breath.

It took a moment for both of you to adjust to the sensation, the newfound closeness offering a liberating sense of.

"You're tight," Josh reed with unbridled pride, his hands capturing your wrists in a firm grip. "I'll start," he promised, granting you a brief moment of surrender.

A nod from you signaled your consent, allowing him to begin the rhythmic thrusts that filled you with his length. Pain, sharp and undeniable, punctuated the sensations, but the pleasure outweighed the discomfort.

"Fuck," you cried out, teary eyes meeting his.

"Hold onto me," Josh commanded, his voice raw and insistent. Your nails dug into his skin with a vengeance, and the resulting grunt of satisfaction was the only response he needed.

The intensity of the act, coupled with the nearness of your bodies, left you at a loss for words. "Like that?" he inquired, and though the question seemed redundant, the sensation of his cock stretching you open left you incapable of verbal acknowledgment.

The room was suffused with the erotic symphony of skin slapping against skin, heavy breathing, and the occasional grunt or moan. In this dance of passion, the unspoken understanding between the two of you spoke volumes, every thrust cementing the bond between you.

"Let me go faster, please," Josh whined, craving the release that only complete surrender could offer.

You whimpered, uncertainty lacing your response, "I don't... I don't think I can handle that, Josh." The creaking of the desk mirrored the strain of the moment.

Desperation colored his voice as he pleaded, "Please, please. I'll be good, you'll like it. Please."

In response, you groaned, "Fine. Just because we need to finish grading." Despite the flimsy excuse, the promise of gratification following the completion of your task hung in the air.

A triumphant grin spread across Josh's face, "After that, you can have me as much as you want," he promised, holding you firmly as he thrust deeper, his cock filling and emptying you in a rhythm of pleasure and longing.

The edge of climax ebbed closer, winding its way through your veins. You found yourself pressing your head into his neck, biting him unintentionally.

"Mmh, gonna cum," Josh warned, his orgasm imminent. With a powerful surge, he filled you, the warmth of his release enveloping you.

Exhausted, the two of you stood there, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Disheveled and sweat-drenched, you looked at each other, the weight of the moments heavy in the air.

Recovering enough to speak, you fumbled for the right words, "Let's uhm..." Your voice trailed off, replaced by an awkward suggestion, "Let's get grading, shall we?"

You climbed off the desk and started gathering your clothes from the floor, Josh following suit as he laughed softly. Dressing hurriedly, you both resumed your roles as teacher and assistant, submitting to the mundane task before you.

…

The day of the final exam dawned, and as you explained the rules and addressed student queries, your concentration wavered. Two students, oblivious to your displeasure, engaged in hushed conversation while you spoke.

In a moment of synchronized understanding, you locked eyes with Josh, who wasted no time in addressing the situation.

He strode towards the offending students, leaning casually on their table. "Guys, please keep it down," he requested softly, the authority in his tone leaving no room for argument. With a single nod, he continued to monitor other students.

Once he moved away, the culprits exchanged glances, one of them whispering, "Did you see the hickey or am I crazy?"

The other nodded, unable to deny the evidence of their own eyes, replying, "I saw it."

The students' curiosity piqued, and their gazes shifted between you and Josh, zeroing in on your choice of clothing: turtlenecks on an otherwise scorching day. The unspoken implications danced in their minds.

“They slept together!?”

Crossing your arms, you fixed your gaze on the offenders, your voice dripping with sarcasm, "Care to share with everyone?"

Embarrassed, they quickly retracted, "No. Sorry." Giggles threatened to escape, but they struggled to suppress them, the cat now firmly out of the bag.

One student voiced her thoughts aloud, "Why does the class get interesting on the last day?" A sentiment echoed in the covert smiles and furtive glances shared by those around her.

[hiitsm]

Beneath the Surface: The Third Piece

Beneath the Surface is for 18+ only.

Angst & if you squint your eyes: Smut, is included in this Third Piece.

Note: a little bit earlier as expected. Work is heavy and I feel like tomorrow I'll be sleeping a lot 😅

-

Other parts of: Beneath the Surface: The Broken Heart Pieces

-

You find yourself in the bustling back of the restaurant, surrounded by the clatter of dishes and the rush of water as you diligently tackle the never-ending pile of plates. Despite the chaos, there's a sense of familiarity and comfort in the routine of it all. This small breakfast and lunch spot has been your second home for over three years now, a cozy haven where you've honed your skills as a waitress.

But lately, things have felt different.

Ever since that fateful day when you discovered the letter on your kitchen counter, everything has been tinged with a sense of unease. The possibility of encountering her hangs over you like a heavy cloud, casting a shadow over your once-beloved job.

You've made the difficult decision to retreat to the kitchen, away from the front-of-house hustle and bustle, in a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the pain of potential encounters. It's a bittersweet compromise, trading the joy of serving customers for the safety of anonymity.

As you scrub at a stubborn stain on a plate, your thoughts drift to Alexia. You wonder if she'll ever walk through those doors again, if she'll ever reach out to you. A part of you longs for the chance to talk, to seek closure, to understand why she left without a word.

But another part of you recoils at the thought, wary of reopening old wounds and risking further heartache.

You've confided in a sympathetic colleague, asking them to alert you if Alexia ever stops by. It's a small comfort, a glimmer of hope in an otherwise tumultuous sea of emotions.

Yet, deep down, you know that even if she does come, you may not have the courage to face her. The pain is still too raw, the wounds too fresh.

In the midst of your internal turmoil, a sudden clatter shatters the silence, drawing your attention to the floor where a plate lies shattered, broken into jagged pieces.

You can't help but see a reflection of your own broken heart in those shards, scattered and fragmented, waiting to be carefully pieced back together.

As you crouch down to begin the painstaking task of gathering the shattered fragments, you're acutely aware of the parallel between the broken plate and the broken pieces of your heart.

There are still too many pieces scattered on the floor.

There are still too many pieces that you need to pick back up again.

There are still too many unresolved emotions that need to be addressed before you can muster the courage to speak to her again.

To see her again.

As you gaze at the shattered pieces on the floor, a wave of emotion washes over you, threatening to overwhelm your fragile composure.

The memories and pain of your broken heart bubble to the surface once more, tugging at the frayed edges of your resolve.

But you're determined not to let them consume you again, not now.

With a deep breath, you push aside the tumultuous thoughts and focus on the task at hand. The rhythmic clinking of dishes and the steady flow of water provide a comforting backdrop, offering a brief respite from the storm raging within.

As you stand there, lost in your thoughts, you're suddenly startled by a familiar voice breaking through the silence. It's Elena, your kind colleague, gently nudging you out of your reverie.

"Come on, rush hour is over now. We have 5 minutes for a quick cigarette," Elena says, her tone laced with concern.

Though you don't smoke, you find yourself following Elena outside, grateful for the distraction from your swirling emotions. As she lights up her cigarette and takes a drag, you let the cool air wash over you, trying to calm the storm raging within.

After a while, Elena speaks up again, her voice gentle yet hesitant. "She stopped by this morning," she confesses, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Your eyes widen at the unexpected revelation, your heart skipping a beat at the mention of her.

"Lo siento, it was very busy so I couldn’t come to you right away," Elena apologizes, her hand finding its way to your shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

You offer her a small, appreciative smile, though there's a tremor of emotion in your voice as you respond. "It's okay," you murmur softly, trying to mask the turmoil brewing within.

Elena continues, her hand finding its way to your shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "She asked for you, and when I told her that you weren't here, she panicked and asked if you still work here."

"What did you say?" you ask quietly, your fingers fidgeting nervously.

"That you are working in the back now," Elena replies, her words causing a swirl of conflicting emotions to rise within you. "She looked relieved by the mention of you still working here."

Her words hit you like a wave, stirring up a maelstrom of conflicting emotions within you. Memories of Alexia flood your mind, her unwavering support and encouragement echoing in your ears.

You remember how she always admired your passion for your job, how she found joy in witnessing your dedication and determination. It was her unwavering belief in you that fueled your own confidence and drive.

"She didn’t leave right away. I think that she hoped to still get to see you, but after two hours she had to leave room for the people who had a reservation," Elena reveals softly, her words carrying a weight of understanding.

You absorb her words with a mixture of surprise and longing, the image of Alexia lingering in your mind like a ghost.

Two hours.

Two hours she spent waiting, perhaps hoping for a chance encounter, a fleeting moment of connection amidst the chaos of this busy restaurant.

You can't help but feel a pang of regret at the thought of her lingering presence, her silent plea for reconciliation hanging heavy in the air.

Despite the ache in your chest, you can't deny the flicker of hope that ignites within you at the realization that she still yearns for you, even in the wake of your fractured relationship.

But along with hope comes a wave of uncertainty, a gnawing fear that lingers at the edges of your consciousness.

Will you ever find the courage to face her again, to bridge the chasm that separates you?

As you stand there, grappling with the whirlwind of emotions swirling within, you can't help but wonder what lies ahead.

Will you continue to retreat into the safety of solitude, shielding yourself from the pain of potential encounters?

Or will you muster the strength to confront the ghosts of your past, to seek the closure and healing you so desperately crave?

You don’t have a moment to process all your thoughts and emotions as your 5-minute break comes to an end, and you re-enter the bustling restaurant. With a grateful smile, you thank Elena for her support and the valuable information she shared, before diving back into the rhythm of your work.

A little while later, you find yourself trudging back towards your apartment, the chilly winter rain adding to the somber mood that has enveloped you lately. All you long for is the comforting warmth of a long, hot shower and the soothing routine of cooking a home-cooked meal to momentarily escape the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

Finally reaching your apartment door, you step inside and flick on the lights, only to be met with silence and darkness. With a heavy sigh, you realize that your lights have once again decided to call it quits, adding another item to your ever-growing to-do list.

Undeterred by the lack of illumination, you navigate your way through the dimly lit apartment, shedding your coat and shoes with a sense of resignation. All you want now is a hot shower and a comforting meal to soothe your troubled mind.

However, fate seems to have other plans for you tonight. As you try to switch on the electric plate to cook some rice, you're met with yet another setback. No electricity. With a frustrated groan, you realize that your plans for a home-cooked meal may have to be postponed.

Deciding to prioritize a hot shower to wash away the stresses of the day, you make your way to the bathroom, shedding your clothes as you go. But to your dismay, the water remains stubbornly cold, refusing to provide the warmth and comfort you so desperately crave.

Despite the lack of electricity and hot water, you push through, forcing yourself to endure the chilly shower in an attempt to at least feel somewhat refreshed.

Afterward, feeling slightly defeated, you seek out your neighbor for any insight or assistance, but his response offers little comfort, leaving you feeling even more disheartened.

Returning to your apartment, you settle for a meager meal of crackers, the taste of frustration lingering on your tongue. But amidst the frustration and disappointment, a faint chuckle escapes your lips as you recall a similar situation from the past.

-

Alexia stormed into your apartment, looking utterly drenched from head to toe. The sight of her, soaked to the bone, took you by surprise. You had been cooking, the sound of the heavy rain outside barely registering as you assumed she was safely in her car.

"Did you walk all the way from the training ground?" you ask, bewildered by her appearance. Despite her obvious discomfort, Alexia bursts into laughter at your incredulous expression.

"Why would I walk for 30 minutes when I have a sponsored car, bebé?" she replies with a mischievous grin, shrugging off her oversized coat and kicking off her waterlogged shoes. Despite being drenched, there's an undeniable allure to her appearance, and you can't help but admire her.

As she stood before you, her clothes clinging to her frame in a way that you couldn't help but find appealing, a playful glint danced in her eyes.

"It's just that you don’t have any parking space here, so to me, it felt like a 30-minute trek if I'm being honest," she explained, her words accompanied by an exaggerated sigh as she dramatically approached you.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at her theatrics, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite your attempt to maintain a stern facade. "Don't be dramatic," you chided gently, pointing an accusing finger in her direction with the cooking spatula still in hand. "Put on a raincoat next time, or maybe bring an umbrella."

"Bring an umbrella, bebé? I thought you would've come to my car with an umbrella to pick me up and keep me dry," Alexia retorted, her grin growing even wider as she teased you.

With a mock-serious expression, you countered, "Do you want to sleep on the balcony?" but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips.

"You wouldn't dare do that to me. How else would you get any sleep?" Alexia shot back, her playful banter bringing a lightness to the air between you.

"Alright, let's drop this and finally give me a hello kiss," you playfully insisted, a warm smile gracing your lips as you met Alexia's eyes.

Without hesitation, Alexia wrapped her arms around your waist, drawing you close as your arms found their way around her neck. With a gentle touch, your lips met in a soft, tender kiss, the world around you fading away in that moment of sweet connection.

As she pulled away, a mischievous grin spread across her face. "Hello, bebé," she greeted you cheekily.

You playfully pushed her away, a chuckle escaping your lips. "You should have a shower while I finish up dinner," you suggested, gesturing towards the bathroom.

A hint of disappointment flashed across Alexia's features as she pouted, "Are you not joining me?"

With a gentle smile, you planted a quick apology kiss on her cheek before gently pushing her towards the bathroom. "And let this dinner burn down the apartment? I don't think so, amor," you quipped, the warmth of your love filling the room as you continued to banter back and forth.

She finally gives in and heads off to have her shower while you busy yourself with finishing up dinner. The sound of running water from the shower fills the apartment, its rhythmic patter bringing a sense of calm to the air. You move about the kitchen, chopping vegetables and stirring pots, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the looming darkness.

But then, without warning, the electricity cuts out, plunging the apartment into darkness. All of your lights flicker off, leaving you standing in the dim glow of the candles you had just lit. You let out a frustrated sigh, hoping it's just a temporary glitch that will be resolved soon.

Quickly, you make your way around the apartment, lighting up candles in every room. Their soft, flickering light casts dancing shadows on the walls, creating a cozy ambiance that contrasts sharply with the earlier chaos.

As you finish lighting the last candle, you're startled by a sudden squeak and a squeal coming from the bathroom. Your heart skips a beat as you hurry towards the source of the noise, your mind racing with worry.

"¿Bebita, estás bien?" you inquire as you step into the bathroom with a rather big flashlight, which you put on the bathroom sink, concern etched across your features. "You're not playing a prank on me, are you?" you add, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Your girlfriend turns to look at you, her expression more annoyed than amused, in the midst of washing her hair.

Despite her irritated figure, you can't help but be distracted by the sight of her naked body, water droplets cascading down her gorgeous form.

Your eyes linger on her breasts, noticing the way her nipples stand erect against the chill of the water. You're tempted to reach out and play with them, but before you can, she grabs both of your wrists.

"No, bebita, my face is up here," she says, pulling your hands towards her cheeks and planting a playful smack on them. Despite her irritation, there's a hint of amusement in her eyes at your flustered reaction.

"Did you turn off the boiler to make my shower ice-cold? And where is the light?" she asks, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion.

"No, amor, I would never," you protest, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I know how much you love your hot showers."

"Then why is the water still freezing?" she questions, her grip on your wrist tightening slightly as she pointed with her head towards the tap.

"I think there might be an electricity and hot water failure in my apartment," you admit apologetically, your cheeks tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

"Well, that's just perfect," she grumbles, pouting slightly before her expression brightens with mischief.

"Looks like we'll have to find another way to warm up."

You watch in surprise as she tugs you into the cold shower with her, your clothes clinging to your skin as icy water cascades over you both.

"Alexia!" you exclaim, a mixture of shock and laughter in your voice as you brace yourself against the ice-cold water.

-

As the days passed, the recurring electricity and hot water failures in your apartment weighed heavily on your mind. Each morning, you woke up feeling drained and disheartened, the constant discomfort of cold showers and cold meals taking its toll on your well-being. Despite your best efforts to adapt to the situation, you couldn't shake the lingering sense of frustration and longing for something better.

Night after night, you tossed and turned in bed, unable to find solace in sleep. You were feeling cold and the memories of your breakup with her still haunted your thoughts, replaying over and over like a broken record. With your friends away on holiday, you found yourself feeling more isolated than ever, longing for the comfort and support they usually provided.

In the midst of your turmoil, you couldn't help but think of Alexia's mother, Eli. She had always been a source of warmth and understanding, besides Alexia, her keen intuition often sensing when something was amiss. You remembered the countless times she had offered you a sympathetic ear and a comforting embrace, her unwavering support helping you navigate the challenges life threw your way.

This is why you found yourself trudging down the familiar path towards Eli's house, a small duffle bag slung over your shoulder. It was already 10 pm, and exhaustion weighed heavy on your shoulders, your weary steps echoing in the quiet night. You hoped fervently that Eli wasn't hosting one of her infamous family dinners tonight, where Alexia and Alba would undoubtedly be in attendance.

You were still in the midst of your self-imposed phase of avoiding Alexia, determined to keep your distance for a little while longer. The thought of facing her, of confronting the tangled web of emotions that still lingered between you, filled you with a sense of apprehension and unease.

As you finally reached Eli's doorstep, you paused for a moment to gather your thoughts, taking a deep breath in and then exhaling slowly. With a flicker of nervous anticipation, you reached out and rang the doorbell, the sound echoing through the quiet night air.

You hear the soft patter of footsteps approaching, and moments later, the front door swings open, revealing Eli standing there in her comfortable sweats. A bright smile lights up her face as she takes in your presence.

"Oh, hi, dear! I've missed you! Come in!" Her initial excitement quickly gives way to concern as she notices your tired demeanor. "Did you walk all the way? You could've called me," she frets, her maternal instincts kicking into overdrive.

Her genuine concern washes over you like a soothing balm, easing the tension that had been building within you. With a grateful nod, you step into the warmth of her familiar home, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you. "Do you want some tea?" she offers, her voice filled with warmth and kindness.

You return her warm smile with one of your own, appreciating her thoughtfulness. "Yes, please," you reply softly, the weariness evident in your voice.

As you peel off your coat and shoes, you're grateful for Eli's unspoken understanding, knowing that she'll be there to lend a listening ear when you're ready to talk. For now, the simple act of being in her presence brings you a sense of solace and reassurance.

"Lo siento for coming here so late and unannounced," you confess softly, your voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment. You sink into the plush cushions of the couch, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you. "My apartment has been experiencing this electricity and hot water failure for a couple of days now, and I've reached my breaking point. I didn't know where else to go."

Eli's gentle smile reassures you as she enters the room, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs of tea. "It's really no problem, dear. I'm glad you came to me," she says warmly, setting the tray down on the coffee table before taking a seat beside you.

"I know Alexia is away at that event, so it's good that you came here. You can sleep in the spare room and have a nice shower if you want."

Her words offer a lifeline of comfort in the midst of your turmoil, but beneath the surface, questions gnaw at your mind. You force yourself to push them aside, not wanting to burden Eli with your inner struggles. Instead, you focus on the warmth of her presence and the soothing aroma of the tea.

As you glance around the room, your gaze lands on the framed photos of you and Alexia displayed prominently on the walls. Despite the bittersweet memories they evoke, you can't help but feel a pang of confusion at the sight. Eli has always supported your relationship with Alexia, but seeing the photos still hanging up feels like a contradiction in the wake of your breakup.

Eli noticed your gaze drifting towards the framed photos adorning the walls of her cozy living room. "Oh, I need new ones, those are so old," she remarked casually, her tone tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

Her words caught you off guard, stirring a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you. It was a simple comment, but it left you feeling unsettled and confused.

Did Alexia not talk to her mother about the breakup?

Why were the photos still displayed so prominently, as if frozen in time?

The pain of the breakup resurfaced with renewed intensity, threatening to overwhelm you. You blinked back tears, struggling to maintain your composure in the face of Eli's well-meaning words.

Despite the flood of emotions threatening to consume you, you forced a tight smile and nodded in response. "Yeah, maybe it's time for some new memories," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eli's gentle gaze softened, a flicker of concern crossing her features as she reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay, dear?" she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded again, though the gesture felt hollow, your heart heavy with the weight of unresolved emotions. "I'll be fine," you assured her, your voice trembling slightly.

"It must've been tough," Eli continued, her tone gentle yet resolute. "Alexia told me the two of you had a bit of a break. But not in a negative way, in a positive way. Sometimes we all need a small little break, right? To find each other again."

Her words echoed in your mind, stirring up a whirlwind of doubt and uncertainty.

Had Alexia truly confided in her mother about the break, painting it in such a positive light?

Or was this just another layer of deception, another mask hiding the truth?

The question hung heavy in the air as you mustered the courage to voice your own concerns.

"Do you think she will talk to me any time soon?" you asked, the words tumbling out with a boldness that surprised even you.

Eli's response was measured, her expression thoughtful as she considered your question. "Qué quieres decir?" she replied, her voice tinged with confusion.

"Alexia told me that the two of you are doing more than fine and that therapy helped a while ago. You both had just been a bit busy, which is why I didn't get to see the two of you much."

The revelation hit you like a blow to the chest, leaving you reeling with a mixture of anger, betrayal, and a glimmer of hope.

How could Alexia lie to her own mother about what had transpired between you?

Did she truly believe that everything would magically fall back into place, that lying about therapy would somehow mend the chasm that had formed between you?

Your eyes welled up with tears, a tumultuous mix of emotions threatening to spill over. In that moment, you couldn't distinguish between the tangled mess of feelings swirling within you—sadness, anger, confusion, hope—all blending together into a single overwhelming wave of emotion.

Eli, ever perceptive, noticed your distress, her expression softening with empathy and concern. "Lo siento, no quise ponerte triste," she said gently, her voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

Without hesitation, she pulled you into her comforting embrace, enveloping you in warmth and safety. In that moment, all the pent-up emotions that had been swirling inside you came pouring out, released in a torrent of tears and sobs.

As you calm down from the overwhelming flood of emotions, your head still resting on the comforting crook of Eli’s neck, you muster up the energy to speak. You feel a deep-seated need to unburden yourself, to share the weight of your feelings with someone you trust implicitly.

The urge to confide in Eli grows stronger with each passing moment.

After all, doesn't she deserve to know the truth?

What if she holds the key to helping her own daughter navigate through the complexities of her emotions?

Perhaps Eli possesses insights and wisdom that you couldn't offer Alexia, despite your best intentions.

Regrets and what-ifs swirl in your mind, each thought a testament to the depth of your emotions and the complexity of your situation. You can't help but wonder if things might have turned out differently if you had only reached out to Eli sooner, if you had allowed her to be a part of your journey from the start.

Before you could second-guess yourself, the words spilled out in a quiet whisper and between sobs.

"She needed space.’’

''I didn't know.''

''I don't understand.''

‘’She left me.’’

‘’She left me and told me through a letter’’.

‘’She left me with a letter."

The admission hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your emotions, yet strangely liberating at the same time.

With each word spoken, it felt as though you were delicately piecing together one of the many shattered fragments of your broken heart.

Holding that small piece closely, you made a silent vow to yourself to safeguard it, ensuring it wouldn't slip from your grasp again.

It was a tender moment of reclaiming your truth, a step towards healing and self-discovery in the midst of emotional turmoil.

-

Note: as we dive deeper into the story, I'm considering switching up the perspective for the next piece. Should I continue with Reader's perspective, or would you be interested in exploring The Fourth Piece from Alexia's perspective?

Your opinion is valued and appreciated, so feel free to share your thoughts openly but remember to always express yourself kindly and respectfully.

[ceesimz]

hey gang, im gonna get kinda personal for a sec and delete it some point soon, there's just a few things i wanna say :)

i have received the most love since being back then i ever have in the past on here and it's important to me that you know how grateful i am for that! there's been some things going on in my personal life this month that haven't been too easy and to not only come back and see all this, but to receive it during such a difficult time has really been a light through quite a hard couple weeks for me <3

so for that i am more thankful than i could ever express, i was very anxious about coming back and wasn't actually planning to until after christmas, but then i got some unexpected news and decided to come back because it's a nice distraction from the world with being able to talk to people and read such beautiful works, etc etc, all the good reasons we're all on here because of.

not only this, but by posting my writing on here, especially since starting reverie, i realised recently that i've become more confident in my writing because of every bit of love and feedback people have given me. so confident in fact, that i spent the past week writing a eulogy for a close family member i lost just a bit over two weeks ago now which i read aloud for my family during the funeral service. all things considered, it was a very heartfelt and transformative moment for me that i might never forget because i never share my writing anywhere but here, and to make something so important for my family was an amazing feeling :)

without the grace you've treated my writing and myself with, i wouldn't have been able to have that moment with my family. so, the basis of this weird message, is that the next time you're considering whether or not a writer might appreciate a message about their work, short or endlessly long, do it anyway because i can promise you it does so much more than you realise.

and speaking of wonderful feedback, i will get back to each and every person that's sent me a DM or left a comment or a message in my inbox tomorrow!! it's been a difficult few days (and weeks overall) but as i said a moment ago, my view of this space has completely changed in the past two weeks because of how extraordinarily kind i've been treated. so, thank you, i can never say that enough but i hope you know that you are so welcome on my page and i appreciate each and every single one of you that drops by! i will be back tomorrow hopefully, or maybe a little longer, but in the meantime i hope you have a wonderful christmas/wonderful rest of your december and you all mean the world to me :)

[sparklingpax]

Is Minerva also a gymnast in your au?

Hello!!

Interesting question! I haven't exactly thought of that specifically, but now that I am considering it....taking into account that she does all kinds of physical training for combat, it would kinda make sense! So I guess maybe she's not a gymnast per se (especially as she focuses too much on both her responsibilities to school and HQ to have a third large time/effort commitment like that) but she definitely has those (or very similar) capabilities 🫡✨ hope that answers it!

-kuni :D

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Epilogue - Peace Ever After

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: None… the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. Also, our pair have some news for the world.

Word Count: 0.7k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl . Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the neat little bow I wanted to wrap this fic up with. I hope you have enjoyed this story; it's been a pleasure to write. Thank you for reading, and many thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Wiltshire, UK, 8th May 1945

Benedict’s arm is curled securely around your back as you dance together, Vera Lynn warbling from the wireless in the corner of your living room.

There'll be bluebirds over, The white cliffs of Dover, Tomorrow, just you wait and see…

His breath is warm on your hairline as you sway gently. A spontaneous, uplifting and tender moment to celebrate the end of the war. A lightness in your heart that this dreadful era is finally over and the overwhelming gratitude that all your loved ones have survived. This dance is also a peaceful, romantic interlude from the whirlwind your lives have become in the last few weeks. 

There'll be love and laughter, And peace ever after, Tomorrow…

The shrill ring of the telephone echoing from the hallway of your cottage interrupts your reverie.

“Ignore it,” Benedict whispers in your ear.

“But we just had it installed! It’s only our third call. How exciting!” You lean back and shoot him your best pleading face, and he sighs and, with an affectionate eye roll, gestures for you to go answer it.

You rush over and pick up the heavy bakelite receiver, a crackle on the line that is an operator.

“Overseas call for the Bridgertons from Madam DuLac,” the operator announces primly.

“Oh wonderful, yes, please put her through!” you enthuse.

“Salut y/n!” comes that familiar voice from the past after a short delay.

“Solene! It’s so wonderful to hear from you! How are you? How’s Paris?”

Benedict walks over at the mention of her name, hovering nearby to partially eavesdrop.

“I am wonderful. Paris is finally free and as beautiful as ever. On this monumental day, I wanted to check on the lovebirds who didn’t invite me to their wedding,” she jibes good-naturedly.

You can’t help but giggle. “We are very well, and yet again, sorry.” 

“Tu connais, there is one way you can remedy this,” she singsongs.

“Name it.”

“Your daughter shall be Solene oui? At least a middle name.”

You laugh heartily, then shoot Benedict a sultry look that makes his brow crease, intrigued.

“Why don’t you nag my husband about that?” you challenge lightly as he draws nearer.

He crowds into your back and takes the receiver from your hand, tilting it between you so you can both hear.

“What is my darling wife roping me into now?” he inquires dryly.

“Giving her a daughter that must be named Solene…” your ex-landlady chimes cheekily.

“Is she now?” his voice drops to a throatier register that immediately has you flustered. “And what is wrong with the son I just gave her?” he queries casually as he raises a flirtatious eyebrow at you.

“Vous avez un bebe?!?” Solene gasps. “Felicitations!!” 

“Oui!” You grin happily as Benedict's lips ghost over your temple lovingly. “We were about to send out telegrams with the news. Louis Jerome Bridgerton,” you pronounce proudly. “He is three weeks old, and he is our whole world…” your sigh so contented as you lean into your husband's attention.

“You named him after my brother-in-law?” Solene protests with mock indignance. “Then I definitely get the middle name for the girl!” 

“It was after the man who married us,” Benedict points out laconically before conceding, “who, yes, coincidentally is also your brother in law…” 

“And I shall expect a visit when petit Louis is a little older to see the wonders of Paris,” she hints unsubtly.

“Of course! His first trip will be to the Louvre,” your husband pronounces. “It was the very first place his parents went on a date, after all,” he adds, shooting you that trademark lopsided grin.

You elbow him mildly. “That was not a date!”

“It was for me, mon amour….” he side-eyes you heatedly. It makes you want to drag him upstairs and start on those daughter plans immediately.

“I should go and make my next call… to your sister and Phillip indeed; I just wanted to wish you a very happy Victory Day!” Solene interrupts your amorous moment.

“Et toi aussi,” you both answer in unison.

“Vive la France! Vive L’Angleterre! We won mes amis! Le monde est libre!”

You and Benedict’s eyes meet, a poignant moment, as the call disconnects.

“The world is free indeed,” he echoes softly, putting down the phone and sweeping you into his arms for a stirring kiss.

FIN

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[reveluving]

anything and everything ; paddy feld x reader x max

summary: it’s them and their girl against the fucking world.

warnings: s~mut obv (minors DNI!), Max & Paddy in general (if you've seen the movies, you know how they are. but! they're pretty tame here), minor character death (deserved; horrible ex + cheating but it's okay, you win in the end) including minor mentions of blood & breaking bones type of violence, Paddy & Max would do anything for you.

a/n: ta-da!! you don't know how excited I was to write this. had to rewrite a few things but I was too into the idea, I didn't mind kdlsajk and mind you, it's EXTRA nasty in this one, so, keep that in mind! please enjoy, take care & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out this year's 'reve's quirky reverie' m.list! 🕷️'!

» smut includes: mildly DARK fic! mm4f, size kink, lovestruck & possessive (slightly mean) doms!paddy & max, shy-esque mc, ‘baby’ & ‘pretty girl’ as petnames, dirty talking, facesitting/oral s~ex (both f & m receiving, clothed(?) too), spit & tit play, marking, spanking, brief mentions of blood play (doesn’t happen), brief mentions of age gap (legal & consenting!!), teasing & mentions of punishment, did I mention possessive paddy & max yet?

'And it all came down to that very moment, in the middle of nowhere past two in the morning.' ;

Paddy’s fingers thrummed along the shape of the steering wheel, subtly displaying his excitement even at such an hour. The music coming from the radio was partially his saving grace from the fairly long drive but the anticipation of what was to come expelled any form of restlessness in his body.

The road he took practically didn’t exist on the map, but he had no problem navigating his destination the deeper he went into the woods, not when he had taken the route many times for the past couple of months for this very moment.

Slowly yet surely, he spotted a familiar car, the headlights remaining on were enough for Paddy to see a man overlooking something before him. He knew his landlord long enough to recognize the large, taller frame in the distance. He spotted the bundle of clothes by his feet, along with the rocks of different sizes next to it, and Paddy knew he had begun.

Good thing, too, for it was mere hours before your alarm would go off, and they wanted to be by your side as soon as you opened your pretty eyes.

Without wasting any time, Paddy turned the engine of his car off before exiting the vehicle, sauntering over to his good friend—your other partner—and standing next to him.

“Took you long enough.” Max scoffed, though largely jesting to get under Paddy’s skin.

“She slept later than usual.” Paddy explained, one corner of his lips quirking at the memory of mere hours ago, of him snuggling you against him, lulling you to sleep with kisses and pats before quietly leaving the unit once he was confident you were truly out like a light.

“She couldn’t sleep?” Max glanced at his friend, a hint of worry in his rich voice, to which Paddy shook his head.

“She’s just excited for tomorrow.”

Ah, Halloween.

Max hummed in understanding, then cut the conversation, or at least, the subject short. As much as he’d love to ask how you were doing, he and Paddy had business to take care of, and the ‘business’ in question stood right in the trench before them.

Chad, or really, they’d just prefer to call him ‘your ex’, stood naked in the ditch, shivering and battered from Max’s need to pour his frustration out on him an hour prior—remembering all the stories you’d tell them of how he had the gall to swoop in and take you from them, even if you weren’t theirs yet. 

It was one thing to steal you from them, but it was another to treat you like you were worth less than cheap dirt. Manipulating you into thinking his mistreatments were just you ‘being a big baby’ or accusing you of how ‘possessive’ you were when he would ‘just casually talk’ to other women when you found the bravery to break up with him a year ago.

But were they really surprised by a pompous man, no, boy, with dodgy secrets? Spending his old money on pointless luxuries and meeting up with low lives behind his old girlfriends’ backs, including yours. It was a good thing you were out of the relationship earlier than his previous exes, but fuck, if Paddy and Max didn’t want to gouge his eyes out for even mistreating you in the first place. 

They could never forget the tears in your eyes and on your cheek when you stopped by, reassuring them with a wobbly smile that you had ended the relationship, but not without seeing the man’s true colours by berating you for leaving him.

But that was in the past. The months that came after were nothing but bliss, for you and them. You didn’t think Paddy nor Max were open to the idea—the three of you—but you were proven wrong. You should’ve expected it, though, with how Paddy and Max were more or less alike, including but not limited to their ‘innocent’ flirting with you before it all went down.

But it wasn’t just the relationship that had them in high spirits.

It wasn’t hard to find his information online—the sucker was as terrible as an ‘influencer’ nowadays, and it was even easier to air his secrets out, destroying relationships including with his own family and even transferring most of his savings to shelters because why the hell not. 

At one point, Max couldn’t resist taking a video of the poor guy borderline begging the lady he cheated with when you were still together at their usual meeting spot at a bar.

He and Paddy had the time of their lives watching the embarrassing scene, even anonymously sharing it on his hacked account before days later, Paddy tampered with the same woman’s drink enough for her to overdose and successfully framed your ex ‘as revenge for public humiliation’. 

Yes, the past few months were priceless, to say the least.

But they never spent the whole time ruining the man’s life all the time, no, they had a beloved to take care of. The time to ruin lives could come whenever they pleased, but not precious moments with you.

Besides, wasn’t it more entertaining to drag out one’s victim’s despair just a little longer? The reactions to their downfall mattered, after all.

And it all came down to that very moment, in the middle of nowhere past two in the morning.

“Doesn't look like he's got a lot of fight in ‘em.” Paddy snorted.

“Good.” Max replied, short but well-pleased.

“Hey, man…” Chad croaked, and Max and Paddy immediately grimaced, “I didn't think she meant that much to you…. Honest…”

The two rolled their eyes in annoyance.

“At least think of a better lie, kid,” Max sighed, “‘s'not like we'd let you go if you did.”

Paddy huffed, amused at the truth in his words. If anything, they'd be doing the world a favour, removing a little parasite—yours, theirs, his ‘friends’ and exes, and hell, even his family—all while getting to call you theirs.

But, it was satisfying to see the pathetic sod being, well, pathetic. A way better look on him than the infuriatingly cocky façade he'd put up around others for whatever the hell he was leering for then.

“I’m not..! I–C'mon, I didn't even lay a hand on her–” Chad reasoned weakly, only to further set them off.

“You better pray you fucking didn't.” Paddy snarled. He and Max knew he didn't, but it didn't ease their anger any less because, at the end of the day, he still manipulated you in some way, using a few tricks to make you seem like you were the ‘overthinking’ one even if it didn't entirely work. 

At the end of the day, he did you harm.

“Alright, y'got anything else to say, kid?” Max leaned his weight on one leg, adjusting the black gloves he had been wearing since he dragged the guy in the middle of nowhere. Paddy, too, put on his gloves as he turned around, all while eyeing the rocks.

“Wait, wait, wait—” Chad spoke in urgency, his teeth chattering from the chilly air, “I can pay up! I won’t tell anybody shit about this–”

“No, you won’t,” Max agreed as he interjected, honestly not wanting to listen to him anymore, “Not especially her name out of your mouth.”

Against his better judgement, Chad had the gall to shout at the mere mention of you.

“Her?” He yelled, his annoyance picking back when Max brought your name up multiple times during this whole thing, “Why the fuck does she matter to you that much anywa–” 

Crunch.

Chad's head whipped to the side as the sizable rock Paddy threw landed at his temple, the sound horrific but satisfying to the two.

“Easy,” Max drawled, swiftly picking up a rock and inspecting it, “No fun in killing him already.” 

“You wanna listen to him talk ‘bout her like that?” Paddy grunted, chest rising and falling at the audacity of a man who was on the brink of death.

“Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm pissed,” Max replied coolly, hiding his temper behind nonchalance. He felt the weight of the rock he held before eyeing Chad with a dangerous look, “But the head? Pat, come on, we made it this far. Play around with him a little.” 

Paddy didn't have the time to reply as Max held the rock above him before throwing it, aiming right at Chad's leg with almost the same, if not, a nastier sound of impact than when Paddy threw it. 

Chad yowled, falling to the ground before groaning in sheer pain. He could only sob on the ground, specks of dirt already in his eyes and mouth.

“See?” Max smiled cruelly, “Make him feel it, just like she had to.”

Just speaking of it riled him up just as it did to Paddy. They wanted to finally, finally get it rid of him, sure, but there was no harm in having fun with it just a little longer. They'd clean up the mess anyway, might as well say their final goodbyes to the son of a bitch for good.

“Yeah… Yeah, alright.” Paddy mirrored his friend's cold-blooded contentment, picking up another rock, this time, hoping to break any parts of his bones without instantly killing him just yet.

And just like that, Chad wished for his ultimate death as they prolonged his torture.

You, back in Paddy’s unit, were none the wiser, slowly waking up from your deep sleep. You turned, anticipating Paddy upon opening your bleary eyes, only to blink at the sight of Max, watching you with a warm smile as he lay on his side.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He greeted, bringing his hand to your face and caressing your cheek.

“G'morning…” You murmured with a shy smile, hiding one side of your face in the pillow.

“Oh, no, don't do that now,” Max chuckled, “Don't hide that pretty face from me.”

Even half asleep, he could make you giggle first thing in the morning.

“How'd you sleep?” He asked, his voice almost enough to lull you back to sleep.

“Good,” You responded, unaware of their little escapade hours ago. You yawned, “You?”

“Like a baby,” He grinned, causing your heart to flutter. In reality, he hadn't had a wink of sleep since he and Paddy drove back home, but the adrenaline of putting the bastard down gave him more than enough energy to see you, “Come here.”

Max gently led you to his lap, encouraging you to straddle his hips while resting your head on his chest, “Atta girl.”

You couldn't resist relaxing in his arms, not when he was so warm and comfortable, and he didn't want you to do so either, kissing the crown of your head while his hands slid up and down your sides.

But you knew Max long enough to know his touches didn't always stay innocent as his hands roamed lower and lower and lower before reaching the hem of your nightdress.

You eyed him suspiciously, “Max…”

He just hummed, leaning in to kiss your temple and cheek, “That's me.” 

You huffed at his wits, only for your eyes to flutter shut as his hands roamed under the fabric, “Max, c'mon, I just woke up…”

You were a little worried about your morning breath and how you looked from just waking up, but he was having none of it.

“Can't hear you.” He drawled lowly against your skin, pulling you closer so he could latch his lips onto your neck. You jolted at the feeling of Max's palms gripping and kneading your ass, your body only growing tauter when a third hand slid up the curve of your back.

“Starting without me, pretty girl?” Paddy cooed, leaning in to kiss your cheek, the other side that Max hadn't touched yet.

“Paddy…” You whimpered, and as soon as you turned your head to look at him, briefly noticing he was shirtless, he slotted his lips against yours, the fingers of his other hand brushing along your neck before descending to your clothed breasts.

The haziness in your mind grew more than when you woke up, feeling pairs of lips and hands mark your body with vigour.

Max sat up, forcing you and Paddy to break the kiss as he slid the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

Paddy took a seat on the edge of the mattress, kissing your shoulder from behind, feeling his spine-chilling groans reverberating against your back. 

And with two sick minds thinking alike, images of you covered in your ex’s blood in between them fueled their uncontrollable desires. Too bad every last drop of it had to be drained for obvious reasons. But it wouldn't hurt to imagine what could've been every once in a while. 

So long the deed was done. 

Good riddance, bitch.

Paddy pulled at your tits between his fingers, the same time Max nipped at the space between your neck and shoulder, leaving the barest hint of mark that begged to be darker. 

More long-lasting, prominent for the world to see.

“How ‘bout it, baby? Think you can for a quick round before we let you go?” Max asked. They could've convinced you to stay in bed longer if not for the candies you had promised to buy before the last minute in the afternoon for trick-or-treaters tonight.

“We'll take good care of you.” Paddy added, as they always did.

You pleaded with the two with a look that was to die for and it wouldn't take long for them to act upon your request, leaving you in your pretty undies, almost tearing off your sleepwear when they removed the pesky article.

Max was eager to lay on his back, encouraging you to move back a little and position your ass just above his face, making you face Paddy, whose pants were off, teasing you by fondling his prominent tent with a smug smile.

You weren't sure whether to focus on him or Max’s cock standing tall each time you looked down, awaiting your soft lips and its careful licks.

You jumped at Max’s playful slaps and massages of your ass, prompting Paddy to coo as he neared until his shins touched the bed.

“Playin’ a lil’ rough, isn’t he, baby?” He cradled your jaw, almost condescendingly mimicking your parted lips as Max licked you through the flimsy panties. He gently led your head by the chin to his bulge and sighed in contentment, “Yeah, that’s my good girl.”

“My good girl.” Max grunted, biting his lips upon moving your panties to the side before licking a big stripe along your pussylips like a man starved, even more so when he couldn’t help but spank you three more consecutive times, downright suffocating himself when trapped your thighs around his head.

“Max…” You cried into Paddy’s tented pants, nuzzling him like it would calm Max down, but they couldn’t blame you, knowing your mind was already mush. 

You could already imagine the familiar beard burns decorating your inner thighs.

Paddy pouted, “Baby, ‘m’feeling a lil’ lonely,” Brushing your bottom lip with his thumb, he stared at your through lidded eyes, “You know what t’do, yeah?”

You did, you always did.

Keeping your eyes on him, you mouthed along the girth of him, leaving little trails of drool because ‘there is nothing sexier than our sweet girl making a mess out of them’. Their words, not yours.

Giving a low growl, he slid his sweatpants down for you, “That’s it.”

He didn’t bother putting on boxers, already anticipating such ‘morning routine’ if he and Max were going to make it until the evening before they could get their hands on you again.

Of course, that didn’t mean they’d play nice behind closed doors when the trick-or-treaters weren’t around.

His pants dropped to the floor with a soft thud, his hard cock ached for you if the subtle twitches were anything to go by.

But Max, still eating you out and practically leaving marks on your behind, shoved his tongue into you just a tad deeper, reminding you that he, too, needed you.

You could only let a little glob of drool drip onto Max’s cock, then slowly wrapped your fingers around it before sliding your hand down to the base. Paddy clenched his jaw, greedy for the same treatment when Max bucked into your hand. He loosened just a tad bit when you finally leaned in, taking a small, cautious lick at the tip of him.

Somehow, somehow, Max knew your teasing behaviour and brought his palm down on your already sensitive rear. You weren’t sure how he wasn’t begging for air at this point the more your thighs tightened around him—if only you knew how much he wouldn’t mind dying that way.

Paddy tutted in disapproval, gently tapping his cock on your cheek, “Not very nice of you.”

“Think she deserves a little punishment?” Max spoke against your cunt, spreading your cheeks and downright spitting at your hole.

“I’m sure she can handle a few,” Paddy responded, eyes rolling back when you moaned around him the more he pushed himself into your mouth. He continued through gritted teeth, “And then, we’ll give her everything. Just like she deserves.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: this was initially a standalone fic for Max but then I was like mmm OMG what about with Max and Negan but then... I also wanted to write for Paddy, so... yeah ;; gorgeous divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[thepascalparadox]

Chapter two: Everything feels...

Word Count | 1.9k Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x OC F!Reader Chapter Warnings | slow burn, mention of the activities of the colisium, Acacius being a confused man. There'll be some author's note in the end. masterlist series “From where I stood, the general was the most striking man I had ever laid eyes upon.” “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Vera. He looks... well, old and weary,” You said with a light tone.

“ I wouldn’t call him old. Word is, he hasn’t even seen thirty summers yet. And as for weary—he carries it as any soldier should” she replied with a grin.

Vera nudged your shoulder playfully, a gesture that spoke of the ease and familiarity between you. You feel tired and ready to take a good night of sleep—tomorrow would be a long day. Your father had planned a grand celebration in honor of General Marcus Acacius, with feasting and music from dawn till dusk.

Such celebrations always filled you with a peculiar joy. For at least one day, you could shed the weight of expectations, lose yourself in dancing and revelry, and be as free as any common citizen.

“Well,” You smirked, “tomorrow, you’ll have your chance to meet him. You could look into those famed eyes and say—”

Without hesitation, you took Vera by the waist, adopting a dramatic pose as if you were the general himself. Mocking the voice of a lady overcome with admiration, you declared: “General Marcus Acacius, you are the most handsome man I have ever beheld!”

Vera erupted into laughter, her mirth echoing through the room as your exaggerated performance ended.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · · The celebration began, and the day unfurled with a vivid splendor. Everything feels perfect. The music, the food, the flowers, even the way your dress touches your skin feels perfect. Hours passed in laughter and dance until your feet ached, and the cacophony of music and merriment became overwhelming. Seeking a quiet place, you slipped into the cool solitude of the back garden. The night’s breeze kissed your flushed cheeks, and the stillness wrapped around you like a gentle embrace. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment. A soft laugh escaped you as you tried to recall the last time you had so much fun. No more wine for the night.

“I see the evening agrees with you, Lady Aurelia,” came a deep voice from behind, startling you from your reverie.

You turned quickly, your heart skipping a beat. There, standing tall under the pale light of the moon, was General Acacius himself.

“Dominus,” you greeted, offering a somewhat unsteady bow, made less graceful by the wine. “I—indeed—I am enjoying the festivities,” you added, a smile lingering on your lips despite yourself. You should definitely not be smiling like this alone with a man like him.

And yet, there was something about his presence that felt oddly reassuring, disarming even. To your surprise, his own lips curved into the faintest of smiles.

“The feast is remarkable,” he said, his tone warm with amusement. “Your father truly knows how to host a celebration worthy of the gods.” He paused, then added in a conspiratorial whisper, “Though I confess, after such a day, I long for nothing more than the embrace of my bed.”

The way he spoke, as if sharing a secret meant for you alone, made you chuckle softly. The conversation flowed easily as you strolled through the moonlit garden paths.

He humbly spoke of his long campaigns—two hundred days away from home, he said, with the weariness of a man who had seen much and yet carried it with quiet dignity. “If I could, I’d sleep for three days without stirring,” he mused.

Feigning seriousness, you teased: “So, you reject the grand festivities my father has arranged in your honor? Even the games in the arena tomorrow?”

He stopped abruptly, his expression turning grave. “Forgive me, Domina,” he said earnestly. “I meant no disrespect. Your father is as dear to me as my own. I would lay down my life for him. The celebrations are an honor beyond words. As for the arena—” He hesitated, his gaze shadowed. “I respect his traditions deeply.” You couldn’t help but laugh softly at how seriously he had taken your jest. Following Vera’s example from the night before, you nudged his shoulder lightly. “I was jesting, soldier,” you said with a grin.

But the moment the words left your lips, you faltered. Your familiarity had crossed a line, and you realized with a pang of regret that he was not a childhood friend to banter with so casually. Drawing back, you lowered your gaze, chastened.

“Forgive me, General,” you murmured, your voice tinged with shame. “The wine has loosened my tongue more than it should have. I fear I’ve overstepped my place.” With a hurried bow, you added, “I wish you a restful night. If you’ll excuse me, I must retire to my chambers.”

Before he could respond, you turned and left, your steps quickened by the heat of embarrassment. It felt as though you were fleeing a ghost—one whose presence had stirred something within you that you did not yet understand.

But the soldier was no ghost—not at all. If you had looked back, you would have seen how utterly taken by surprise the General was. He parted his lips, as if to say something—anything to make you stay—but no words came. He simply stood there, watching as you walked away.

If only you knew how his heart felt just a little weaker with your departure. · · ────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

Your head throbbed. The deafening roars of the crowd, mingled with the clash of gladiators within the coliseum, did nothing to help. Attending the games was a duty you loathed above all others. You recalled your mother’s soft whispers when you were a child, not much older than six, as she leaned close during your first visit.

"You don’t have to look. Find something else to occupy your mind—count the soldiers in the stands, the women, the children..."

And so, every time you were forced to sit in that pit of violence, you obeyed her advice. Today, you noted there were more children and soldiers than before. The coliseum itself seemed different, too—three additional beams along the upper gallery, and a newly constructed gate to the prisons below.

Why does it grow larger every time I return?

You pressed your fingertips to your temples, moving them in slow circles to soothe the ache in your skull. The rhythmic motion was your only solace against the chaos surrounding you.

“I see the revelry of last night has caught up with you, Lady Aemilia.”

The voice was soft, tinged with humor. It came from the seat beside yours, where General Acacius sat. His words hung in the air, and with a light tone, his gaze lingered on you, searching for something.

Is he mocking me? Have I become his amusement?

Your eyes remained shut, but your tone turned sharp as you replied. “I expect respect from you, General, as I have shown you nothing but the same.”

Have you forgotten how to address a lady, Marcus?

The sting of your words landed precisely as intended. You heard him shift uncomfortably, and though your eyes were closed, you could sense the weight of his regret. Ever since your arrival, he had been looking for a way to earn your attention—desperate to hear your voice again, even if only to rebuke him.

Perhaps if I make her laugh...

He had misjudged, thinking of last night’s fleeting, playful moment when your shoulders had touched. He wished for that again—a simple touch, no matter how brief.

“I didn’t mean—” he stammered, pausing to collect himself. Then, taking a deep breath, he began again, his tone softer. “I wasn’t trying to mock you, Lady Aurelia. I only... Please, forgive me. I truly hope your headache eases soon.”

There was something in his voice that made your resolve falter, a sincerity that bordered on vulnerability.

If I could, I would take the pain from you and bear it myself, carissima.

You opened your eyes, finally meeting his gaze. For a moment, you saw the weariness etched into his face, more pronounced than the night before, as though he hadn’t slept at all. The sight gave you pause, but you said nothing.

Instead, his expression shifted, his features hardening into the same stoic mask he wore before his men. Diverting his eyes, he straightened in his seat, retreating behind his soldier’s composure.

Have I hurt him?

Before you could dwell on the thought, the cries of the crowd swelled around you. The word they chanted took a moment to register, and when it did, a familiar chill ran down your spine.

Death.

Your father rose from his seat, commanding the attention of the entire coliseum. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his hand. The crowd fell silent, holding its collective breath. But you knew what would come next.

His thumb turned downward. The crowd erupted in cheers, and another life was extinguished.

You flinched, as you always did. The hollow ache in your chest never lessened, no matter how many times you witnessed this. Bowing your head, you prayed silently for the soul of the fallen.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the General. He had risen as well, but the look in his eyes was not one of approval. Fury smoldered there, dark and restrained. Without a word, he turned and left his place, seeking an exit from the coliseum.

You felt an inexplicable longing to follow him. You weren’t sure if it was to escape the horrors of the arena or simply to be with him—anywhere, as long as he was there beside you. · · ─────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

You felt no inclination to read or write today, so you wandered to the principal garden instead. The serenity there always held a quiet magic for you. How you longed to see the untamed fields beyond the city walls, where birds soared freely and the wind danced through the trees, carrying with it the fragrance of wildflowers.

Your steps were slow as you moved among the blooms, the gentle rhythm of your walk an attempt to soothe the lingering ache in your head.

I am never drinking again. Never, ever.

“Lady Aemilia Aurelia,” came the voice of the guard assigned to you. His tone was respectful but firm, pulling you from your thoughts. “A letter has arrived for you.”

You turned to him, accepting the letter with a nod of thanks. Curiosity flickered in your mind as you examined it. It couldn’t have come from one of the maids—they had been dismissed for the day. And letters from beyond the palace, whether from princes or clandestine admirers, always passed through your father’s hands first.

Carefully, you opened it, and to your surprise, a small flower fell from within. Its delicate petals rested lightly in your palm, and you lifted it to your nose, inhaling the sweet, calming aroma.

The letter was brief, the handwriting unmistakably bold yet neat:

"This bloom is known for its healing properties, particularly for those burdened with aches of the head. I hope it brings you relief. Your loyal General, Marcus Acacius."

The ache in your head eased almost at once, but now, inexplicably, something else stirred—a gentle, unfamiliar ache in a different corner of your heart.

That night, as sleep claimed you, the faintest of smiles lingered on your lips.

next chapter · · ────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

AN: I know pedro is beyond thirty years but this is how I imagine him for this fic. It is actually very dificult to keep it historically accurate, but I hope you understand! I will insert some references to the balls that happened in Pride and Prejudice and Bridgerton, but I think it'll be all. There's nothing I love more than an unconfortable dance between too characters who love each other in secret!

[lilrainbowcloud]

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Child of Apollo! Reader

Genre: Fluff, tinsy bit of angst || masterlist

[17:56]

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm, orange hue across the camp, Luke couldn't help but smile at the beauty of the moment. He marvelled at the way the soft light accentuated the lines of your profile as you continued to sketch, completely absorbed in your creative world.

Every stroke of your pencil seemed deliberate, and Luke found himself captivated by the dance of your fingers across the paper. He admired the way you embraced each mistake, turning it into a stepping stone toward perfection. Your determination resonated with him, creating a silent connection between the two of you amidst the artistic ambiance of the natural museum.

The low hum of activities below you served as a gentle background melody to the symphony of creativity. Luke, despite his initial boredom, found solace in the atmosphere you created. The earthy scent of aged land became a comforting fragrance, blending seamlessly with the soft glow of the setting sun atop the hill you both were perched. Tucked away from your responsibilities for a stolen amount of time.

As the shadows deepened, he couldn't help but be drawn to your presence. The way you navigated the challenges of your sketch with grace and resilience painted a vivid picture of your character. The occasional clicks of your tongue and sighs of frustration only added to the authenticity of the scene.

In those two hours, Luke discovered a new layer to his admiration for you. It wasn't just about your artistic prowess; it was the way you approached life with clarity and purpose. Your goals were like brushstrokes on a canvas, creating a masterpiece of determination and focus. It was a mindset he longed to adopt, a reflection of the strength he saw in you.

Leaning back on the soft meadow, Luke let his gaze linger on you once more, silently appreciating the artistry in both your sketch and the person you were becoming. The hill wasn't just a haven for perfect view and fresh air; it was a sanctuary where he found himself falling deeper for the girl whose heart had become an unspoken part of his own.

As you gathered your art supplies and rose from the ground, the echoes of the conch shell served as a reminder that it was nearing dinner time resonated its way to you. The tiredness from hours of focused sketching settled in, and a yawn escaped your lips as you stretched, feeling the satisfying pull in your muscles.

Luke, standing in front of you, extended his hand with a warm smile. His invitation to dinner was a welcomed interruption to your creative reverie. However, your determination to finish your work lingered, and you pouted in response, expressing your reluctance to leave.

"But I'm not finished yet," you protested, hoping for a bit more time. Luke chuckled, understanding your dedication but also knowing the practicality of the situation. "They're going to look for you if you stay. Come on. We’ll come back here again tomorrow.”

However, the promise of tomorrow fades, for today marks the final sunset you'll share with him before returning to your mother's home. Tomorrow, you bid farewell to the comfort you've known, a hiatus until your return in the summer. How you yearn for your father to extend his presence longer. Yet, with each step, Selene, the goddess of the moon, ascends gracefully, draping the sky with her veil of darkness and adorning it with a myriad of stars.

That night, your tears twinkled alongside them as they poured.

[luxurychristmaspudding]

Chucho's Records // Javier Peña // Secret Springs

it's a warm night in secret springs when you step into javier peña's record store.

half an hour before closing time, you step over the worn threshold to the chime of a bell and the soft croon of a saxophone, duke ellington gliding through the dust motes to greet you.

a tired looking man looks up from his book behind the counter towards the back of the shop, a cigarette cradled between two fingers. you stop short at his appraisal. the way his eyes roam over you, the way his tongue wets his bottom lip.

he's handsome. so very handsome. lovely dark hair swept over his forehead, pouted lips parted beneath his moustache. his eyes warm and serious, alight with a curiosity.

'looking for anything in particular, cariño?'

his voice, low and inviting, breaks the spell. you smile, and he places his book gently down on the counter, cigarette crushed into an ash tray by the old register.

you accept his help at first, before he leaves you to peruse the records alone. you're lost to the feel of them beneath your fingers - music lost to time, voices you have yearned to find but couldn't anywhere else. you wonder whether you'll have to invest in a second suitcase to bring them home in, almost forgetting the quiet man here with you.

when he flips the sign hanging on the back of the door from 'open' to 'closed', you're pulled from your reverie, turning to face him as the sunset cools through the glass.

'it's okay,' he says, 'there's no rush.'

time slips by easily in javier's company. he passes you records to turn in your hands, places them on the turntable for you to hear. the shop is lit with a warm glow as he pulls a second stool out for you to sit at by the counter, and between glasses of whisky, you swap tales of places you've been, where you've come from. he's lived a dangerous, remarkable life, but doesn't like to hear your wonder and amazement. he's a man who believes in morality, rights and wrongs. a man looking for a fresh start.

he's a man awash with so much sensuality, you don't even realise how much time has passed with you staring at his lips, wishing to taste them.

it's dark outside when he checks his watch, and your belly swoops with disappointment. you follow him with your eyes as he turns lights off, silences the voice floating through the speakers. you step with him into the cool night, and he locks the door behind you.

you gladly accept when he offers to walk you home.

the streets are quiet, secluded as you reach your holiday home. the closeness of the evening is intimate, romantic, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

when you turn on the doorstep, he is so close. you can see the flecks of grey through his dark hair, crows feet in the corners of his eyes. smell the leather of his jacket, the scent of his cologne.

there is no surprise when he leans in to kiss you. soft, plush lips against yours - chaste. mint and smoke and something sweet. one large, warm hand cradles your jaw, the other squeezing your hip.

when he pulls away, you're breathless. his pupils are blown, eyes searching your face for something. for everything he's been looking for.

he presses his lips to your forehead as he wishes you goodnight, and when the door closes behind you, you press your hands to the heat of your cheeks, giddy.

sleep is fitful, strangely lonely. you promised you'd go back again tomorrow, but when you open the door to a knock the next morning, it seems natural for him to be stood there.

blush pink roses in the same hands that held you, that smile, those eyes.

'i couldn't wait,' he says, 'there's so much more to show you.'

@secretelephanttattoo <3

divider from @saradika-graphics