#starting fresh on this thing i’m so excited

[literaryavenger]

DOPPELGÄNGER

Summary: In a universe where Sebastian Stan not only exists but he's also your favorite actor, you swoon for him when you happen to meet him up and about New York one day, having no idea he's not who you think he is.

Pairing: sort of Sebastian Stan x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Misunderstandings. Kind of manipulative Bucky but he's still a sweetheart. Kind of naive and clueless Reader. No mentions of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 3.8K

Requested by: @myfavbuckyfics

A/N: I'd like to thank @myfavbuckyfics for this ask which I had so much fun writing and I'm sorry it came like almost a full year late 😭 Her beautiful idea was basically 100% done, I just wrote it out and the result is just amazing! Also, I promise I'm still working on requests and they're slowly coming. Also, my messages/ask box are always open and I'm always delighted to receive requests to challenge myself with. I'm gonna try harder to find time for writing because it really brings me so much joy, especially when I find people that read and appreciate my work. Thank you to all of you who do!

Masterlist

The first time it happened, Bucky didn’t think much of it.

He’d accepted to go out for a breath of fresh air with Steve for the first time since he joined the Avengers and moved into the Compound and he was a little overwhelmed when a group of girls came up to them, fangirling and asking for photos. 

But Bucky understood, it’s Captain America, he assumed they were just excited to see Steve and asked Bucky to join the photos because he was Captain America’s friend, just to include him. After all, it hadn’t been announced yet that he had joined the team and nobody had any idea that Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was back.

Then it started happening when he was alone too. Girls coming up to him and asking for photos with him. But he figured, from what he understood of the internet, that it got around that he was Steve’s friend so people asked for photos with him because it was better than nothing.

But what really puzzled Bucky was when they would call him a name he didn’t recognize: Sebastian. 

That’s how Bucky found out that there was an actor that coincidentally lived in New York too, called Sebastian Stan. Sam and Scott made Bucky watch basically all the man’s movies and, as much as Bucky could agree he was a talented and versatile actor, he didn’t love the fact that they looked so similar. But what could he really do about that? 

So whenever Bucky got asked for photos he would try to politely say they had the wrong person or, if he was in a good mood, he’d just pose for the photos and move on.

You’re out and about in the streets of New York when you spot him: Sebastian Stan. Just standing outside of a coffee shop, like he’s waiting for someone. You didn’t expect him to have hair that long or a stubble like that, but you did read he’d been letting it all grow for the shooting of an upcoming role.

He’s your all time favorite actor since all the way back to 2010 when he starred in Hot Tub Time Machine, but you never thought you’d ever meet him, despite living in the same city. New York is pretty big after all and full of people you’ll never meet.

You debate whether to approach him or not, worried you’re gonna bother him, but then tell yourself you’ll just say hi and, if he feels like it, ask for a photo. 

“Excuse me…” Your soft voice instantly grabs Bucky’s attention, but he keeps looking at his phone just in case it’s not directed at him. “… Sebastian?”

The tentative question annoys Bucky a little, today he’s definitely not in the mood to deal with fangirls, not after he’s been waiting close to two hours for Sam because he’s late. He turns around fully intending to shut this down right now, but the moment his eyes land on you, he feels like his heart stops entirely.

She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until you talk again. “Hi, I… I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, and I’m sure you get this all the time, but I’m a big fan and just wanted to say hi.”

God, he thinks it’s so cute how nervous you seem to be as you try to be polite. Bucky doesn’t know what to do with himself and he’s talking faster than his brain can comprehend.

“Don’t worry about it. Thank you, it’s always nice to meet a fan.” He gives you a charming smile that makes you giggle and Bucky’s heart flutters at the sound, making him feel like the care-free young man he used to be back in the 40s.

“Could I give you a hug?” You ask shyly, dying to know how it feels to hug him.

“Sure.” Bucky answers a little too eagerly.

What the hell am I doing? I don’t like people touching me.

But Bucky’s thoughts are quickly squashed when you hug him. For a moment he doesn’t know what to do, awkwardly hugging you back, but then it hits him all at once. It’s warm and comforting and it makes him feel something he hasn’t in decades… Peace.

Right there as you pull away he decides, I can’t let her get away.

“Anyway, if it’s not too much to ask, could we take a pi-”

“Do you wanna get some coffee?” Bucky interrupts you, surprising not only you but himself too.

Did Sebastian Stan just ask me to get a coffee with him?

Did I really just ask this girl that thinks I’m somebody else to get coffee with me?

Both of your minds are racing and for different reasons, just staring at each other until you say the one word that makes Bucky both incredibly happy but also incredibly nervous: “Yes.”

Bucky tells himself that it’s okay, it’s just coffee, he’ll tell you the truth after, but the more you talk the more his resolve weakens. 

Talking to you is easy, it makes him feel carefree like when he was a wide-eyed young adult, not fully tainted by the world’s cruelty yet. And it brought out a part of him he didn’t think existed anymore, the part that flirted shamelessly with you the entire time, the part that got a rush of satisfaction at every giggle he got out of you and a warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach with every shade of red he managed to make your cheeks turn to. 

It also didn’t help that you gushed over him, recounting every movie and tv show you’ve seen him in and how important each and everyone was to you. Bucky’s knees almost buckled [Bucky buckled lol] at the look of pure adoration in your face, that sparkle in your eye as you looked at him as if he was a real life shooting star in human form.

So he, when the date ends, as the words ‘I’m not Sebastian Stan’ dance on his tongue, what comes out instead is “Can I have your number?”

“Really?” You ask a little incredulous but he’s already taking out his flip phone, weird choice for an actor but okay, and you put in your phone number.

“Uhm, do you… Do you live close?” Bucky asks as he puts his phone back in his pocket. 

“Fairly.” You say vaguely. It’s not like you think he’s a serial killer, but he’s also a man you just met. “I could… Walk you, if you’d like?” Bucky offers, feeling protective over you and wanting to ensure your safety, but also desperately trying to prolong your time together. He just doesn’t want to let go of you.

You hesitate before agreeing, thinking he is a high profiled celebrity after all so there’s no reason to doubt him, right?

You feel like you’ve fallen into a fanfiction [ironic, I know] as you not only met your celebrity crush but he’s flirting with you and asking you out.

And so starts what, for you, is a fairytale romance, while for Bucky is more like a mission, his objective clear: Not let you find out who he really is. At least not yet.

As you keep going on dates and getting to know each other, or more like he gets to know you, Bucky does his best to become the man you seem so enamoured with.

In good trained spy fashion, he does all the research necessary about this Sebastian guy, the first and only time he abused his power at SHIELD to get into someone's personal files, determined to do everything he needs to keep you.

Bucky does the most, going as far as cutting his hair when he sees the actor’s haircut is slightly shorter and carefully planning his missions for times when he knows Sebastian will be away on press tours or shooting or crap like that and, when he doesn’t have missions, he just pretends to be out of town while barricading himself in the Compound, not willing to chance you finding him up and about.

He even gets himself an iPhone, going through the painful process of letting Peter teach him how to use it because the kid is the only one Bucky knew would do so without asking too many questions.

Sometimes he feels bad about lying to you and he considers coming clean, but every time he sees his face he falls more in love with you and he keeps convincing he’ll tell you the truth soon. But that time never comes.

He knows you’re falling too and he can’t bring himself to burst your bubble, not when you look at him with those bright, beautiful eyes full of love that sparkle adorably every time he’s around. He'll be Sebastian Stan forever if it means he gets to see you and be in your life everyday.

Still, he feels too guilty being intimate with you while you’re not aware of who he really is, so he makes a point to never go too far past pecks on the lips, which you accept and reassure him profusely that you’ll go at his pace, waiting patiently like the angel he believes you are.

He’s also aware that if you saw his Vibranium arm you’d immediately know he’s not actually Sebastian Stan, and not only that but he’s scared you’ll be horrified and run for the hills when you see just how broken he is, so he always keeps it hidden. 

You take notice of him always wearing long sleeves and leather gloves, but you don’t say anything about it as you don’t want to embarrass him if it’s about something he feels self conscious about, telling yourself he’ll eventually address the fact himself.

For six months everything goes smoothly, Bucky even manages to impress you with his Romanian skills, which he is more than happy to know get you fairly hot and bothered, but he keeps his promise to himself not to go too far with you until he tells you the full truth, always finding a way to come to you so he can make excuses about work stuff to not stay overnight.

But, as all good things do in his life, it comes the day where it all blows up in his face.

You’re waiting for Sebastian in front of his favorite sushi restaurant where you’re having your date but when he gets there, he almost walks past you without a glance and, thinking he just didn’t notice as he was looking at his phone, you grab his attention.

“Seb.” You walk up to him before he reaches the restaurant’s door and hug him hello, kissing his cheek like always.

Except this time, instead of returning your affections, he almost leaps back away from you. “Excuse me??”

He looks almost panicked as he looks at you like you’re crazy. “Who are you??”

You frown before you realize he’s messing with you. “Oh, nice one, Seba.” You roll your eyes playfully. “Acting like you don’t know me.”

“I’m sorry, are you a… A fan or something?” Sebastian asks confused.

“Are you gonna play the celebrity card on me after six months? Really?” You chuckle.

“Six months? What are you talking about?”

“Come, Sebastian, it’s me.” You sigh and cross your arms, starting to get over his little joke. But you have to hand it to him, he’s a really good actor. “We’re supposed to be on a date here.”

“Look, I don’t know you.” He says in a firm voice that makes you freeze, never having heard it before, you watch him take a step back like he’s afraid of you.

“Seb…” You say weakly, your arms dropping as you’re not sure what’s happening.

“Stop calling me that.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen you before in my life and I certainly don’t have a date with you.” 

I can’t help but feel hurt by his borderline cold tone, feeling tears starting to burn behind your eyes. “I-”

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble,” He cuts you off. “but please stop this distasteful joke or whatever this is before I call the police.”

Just as you’re about to cry out of both hurt and embarrassment all the same, Sebastian turns around to see a man standing behind him with a sheepish look as he avoids your eyes. Bucky.

“Uh, I’m sorry man, that’s my girlfriend. She was waiting for me.” Bucky apologizes to a gaping Sebastan, the actor can’t help but be amazed as he looks up and down at a man that looks so much like him, down to his own haircut. It’s like looking in an all-black dressed mirror.

Bucky keeps his eyes on his more famous version, but it’s not because he’s impressed by the similarities. He’s determined to keep his eyes away from you, his stomach churning so much he’s convinced he might throw up any second.

He saw everything, rounding the corner just as you approached Sebastian Stan. He remained well-hidden, his feet feeling stuck to the concrete as he witnessed the encounter in borderline horror and seriously debated just turning around and running away, but when he saw you were about to cry his protective side got the better of him and he felt the need to step in and save you.

He still can’t look at you though, fearing he might have just lost you for good.

“Wow…” Sebastian pulls Bucky out of his thoughts. “This is… Bizarre.” “It is.” Bucky forces a chuckle. “You can see how she’d be confused. Have a good night.”

Bucky’s quick to dismiss Sebastian as he feels like the more he stands there the more time you have to stew in your confusion and probable anger, and Sebastian doesn’t seem to think much of a man that looks like him with the same name too. Weirder things have happened in New York.

“Yeah, sorry I yelled.” Sebastian apologizes as he opens the door to the restaurant. “Have a good date, guys.”

Once Sebastian is gone, Bucky gathers all his courage just to look at you, the shock on your face clear before you snap yourself out of it and your expression goes blank.

“Who are you?” Is all you say and Bucky almost winces at your low, cold tone.

“I–” He gapes at you, not sure where to even start as the two of you just stand on the sidewalk. He sighs and runs a gloved hand down his face. “Look, I-I know you’re angry, just… Please come inside? Give me a chance to explain?”

You scoff but he starts pleading before you even get a chance to go off on me. “Please, I just want you to hear me out. Just give me a chance to tell you the full truth. You don’t have to say anything and you can leave after, just let me get the words out. Please.”

You hesitate, wanting nothing more than to turn around and run away from what you know is a potentially dangerous situation, but you know deep down that you can never say no to Sebastian, or whoever this is that you’ve spent the last six months falling for.

As you sit down in the furthest, most secluded corner of the restaurant you cross your arms and Bucky, as he told you his name is, tells you everything. And I mean everything.

He decides to tell you his entire history from the start just to paint a full picture, displaying an honesty that he’s never had with anyone, not even his therapist or Steve. But after the way he deceived you for six months and how horrible you must’ve felt during the encounter with the real Sebastian, the least he can give you right now is full honesty.

“... And I know there’s no excuse for what I’ve done, but I was just so terrified, doll.” He sighs, his eyes lowered in shame. “Terrified you’d run, terrified you’d think I’m a monster… I know I went about it in the worst ways, but I started falling for you the moment I saw you and I was so scared of losing you that I tried to do everything I could to keep you around.” You remain stoic the entire time, listening to everything that happened to him hurts deep in your soul but you can’t bring yourself to be sympathetic right now.

The last six months, everything you went through, it was all a lie. You thought you knew who you were falling for, but you were sorely mistaken. Even the cute nickname he calls you that you teased him so much for but secretly loved how adorably old fashioned it is, now feels hollow and just wrong.

When he finishes talking, you let a moment of silence pass between the two of you before you grab your purse, jacket and leave the restaurant without a single word.

Bucky doesn’t even attempt to stop you, after all you held the end of your agreement and listened to everything he had to say. Now all he can do is watch you walk away, knowing he’s lost you for good, the one good thing he ever had, just because he’s an idiot that made all the wrong choices.

A month.

That’s how long you mull things over before you’re ready to talk to Sebas–Bucky again. You went to the Compound with surprising ease but you were met in the lobby by Captain America instead of Bucky, who informed you his best friend had spent the last month wallowing in his apartment in Brooklyn, which you wish you’d known before you drove to the once again surprisingly easy to locate home of superheroes in Upstate New York.

So here you are, knocking at the apartment Steve told you Bucky sometimes resides in when he needs to get away from superheroing.

You almost gasp when he opens the door, your eyes widening at his disheveled state. You thought Steve was exaggerating when he underlined the severity of Bucky’s current mental state, but he was absolutely not.

He has dark circles under his eyes, his beard is unkept, his hair sticking out in odd places and it looks dirty. He’s obviously spent the last month in bed, not bothering to shower or even eat by the looks of it, his eyes red and puffy giving away that he’s done nothing but cry.

“Oh my god, Bucky…” You frown, the entire speech you made in your head on the way flying out of your mind as your concern overrides your anger or logic.

“Doll…” Bucky says quietly, his voice raspy and hesitant as if he’s not even entirely sure you’re actually standing there in front of him.

You stand there for a moment before you sigh. As much as you want to discuss things rationally and maybe even yell at him, I know I can’t when he’s in this state. For better or worse, you did fall for him and you can’t bear to see him like this, so you take it upon yourself to take care of him.

You make your way into his apartment and his eyes follow your movements as you silently take his hand and close the door behind you. Without saying a word, you help him shower, change into clean clothes, order food because he doesn’t have much to cook with and help him organize his apartment as you wait for it to arrive, although he doesn’t actually have many possessions to make an actual mess so it’s mostly just sweeping, dusting and gathering his dirty clothes in the hamper.

You can feel his eyes on you the entire time, he doesn’t look away for more than five seconds at a time, and you can tell he wants to say something but you’re not sure if he even knows what.

The only moment he looks away is when you help him take his shirt off, not wanting to see the horror and disgust he’s certain will be in your face, but to your credit you don’t comment or even react to his metal arm at all or any of the scars on his body, not even the massive one on his shoulder, but what you felt was something more akin to pity.

After you’ve eaten, you take a deep breath and finally turn to him.

“Listen… I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and… What you did was… Beyond wrong.” You say bluntly. “But I also can’t deny that, despite all the lies, I didn’t fall for you because I thought you were Sebastian Stan. I fell for you for all the talks we had, the way you look at me like I’m everything to you, the way you’re so sweet and flirty and cute… And that’s still you.”

For the first time in a month, maybe in seven months, Bucky feels like he can actually breathe. Your words are like a balm to his soul, hearing you say that not only you indeed fell in love with him but you fell because of him, because of the glimpses of who he actually is and not who he was pretending to be, that’s all he needs to hope again, hope that you’re coming around.

“I… I really am so sorry for lying to you.” Bucky says quietly, his eyes wide and hopeful. “And… I know I have no right to ask this, but I need to know… Is there any chance you’d consider giving me a second chance?”

“It’ll take some time for me to forgive you.” You say after a pause. “And even longer because I trust you again… But I think I want to give you a second chance.” Bucky can’t help but beam at that, but you’re quick to give him a pointed look.

“Solely on the condition that from here on out you be honest with me. No more lies, no more secrets. Just complete honesty.” You say firmly and, to your surprise, Bucky agrees with no objections. “I promise, I will never lie or keep anything from you ever again.” He says honestly as he takes your hands in his, touching you with his Vibranium hand for the first time without gloves. “Complete honesty… I’ll always tell you everything. I never want to risk losing you ever again.”

You can’t help but melt at that and sit a little closer to him, leaning in and pecking his lips. “For the record… I don’t think you’re a monster or anything. I think you were a victim of very bad things and you’re incredibly strong for having survived that.”

Your soft words make Bucky’s eyes teary again, although this time it’s for a different reason. He can’t hold back anymore and hugs you tightly, relief flooding through him as you don’t push him away but instead hug him back.

There’s still a long way to go before your relationship is fixed, but, right now in his arms, you can feel it– Forgiving him is the right thing to do.

And what are the chances that, if you work out, you invite Sebastian Stan to the wedding, explaining he’s the reason it all happened and thanking him. And he shows up too.

[knightyoomyoui]

Adore You

w/ Red Velvet's Bae Joohyun "Irene" x Male Reader

TYPE: Fluff, Light Angst

WORD COUNT: 6993

NOTE: First time writing a Red Velvet oneshot! Hope yall enjoyed it, especially you, Hijack! Thanks for ordering again! Also, giving a special credit as well to Hijack himself for providing some assistance on some of the dialogues here in Act 4 and 5. ORDERED BY: @hijack711

DONATE OR REQUEST FOR COMMISSION HERE: https://ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui === START ===

In a small town of Gangwon Province, a car was seen crossing through the narrow road surrounded by green fields. It parked in front of a house, the driver stepped out to greet the surroundings of her new place to stay.

Draped in baggy gray sweatpants, simple white t-shirt and comfy matching rubber shoes, the driver which was revealed to be a woman with long straight hair and breathtaking beauty locked the door and stood in front of the said house. Observing her new personal space, a sigh of relief and contented smile formed in her lips.

The landlady, who previously owes the property, popped up from the other side to greet the young lady. “Good morning, maam! Welcome to Gangwon, glad that we finally met. I’m Jiwoo.”

“I’m Irene.”

“Shall i introduce you to your new house? It’s great that you came in time.”

“I guess I could say I’m excited to live here.” Irene formed a soft smile. “I’ve been longing for a fresh new start again, and today’s the day. Can’t let anything go to waste.”

“If that’s so then let’s proceed immediately and get the papers done. We both do have a lot more things to do after this.” Jiwoo searches from her keychain to pick the right key and inserted it on the gate to unlock.

She opened and initiated to welcome Irene. As she was brought to every area of the house to see it for herself along with its details, her mind is focused on what things she’s planning to do here now that she’s about to settle for good in this place that hopefully she could considered as the perfect destination for peace.

She wants to become comfortable and get used living here, that’s why she would do a lot of efforts just so it could help her get distracted and moved on from everything she left behind from where she came from. This is important for Irene, when she said that she’s going to live the life she always dreamt of, she meant that and now that she’s all alone away from everything she wants to avoid, nobody can stop her from finally build the bubble she wants to put herself in.

A slight amount of senses were spared to concentrate still on the landlady’s thoughtful assist to prevent disrespect on her part, she listened through everything she said. As of her mind was multitasking both regarding about her priorities currently.

“Doesn’t all you’ve seen makes you regret?” The landlady requested for assurance.

“Not at all. This is exactly what I wanted. All I ever care is to have myself a place to stay and be happy, you know what I mean.”

“That’s the spirit. I like your positive intuitions, Irene-ssi.” Jiwoo cheered on her. “About the papers, you can sign it here with your name to make ourselves a deal.”

Irene didn’t wasted no more time to sign the contract. She also handed a bag full of money to Jiwoo for payment. “Just being fair and true to my words.”

“Thank you much again, Irene-ssi. Hey, if you ever need anything to help you discover more about this place to make yourselves one of us, feel free to come onto me anytime.” Jiwoo said. “My house is just houses away from you!”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Jiwoo unnie.” Irene bowed along with her and they bid goodbyes from one another, leaving herself alone.

Giving another roaming sight around the interior, it motivates Irene more to visualize what she plans about any of these she wanted to happen here.

“Let’s do well in our new home, self. Fighting!” She raises her fist to support herself and boost her anticipation for upcoming success she wants to achieve in here.

The next few days, Irene had her house almost rearranged with the return of her belongings and furniture from her previous place thanks to the kind carriers who helped her set everything back up. She also started to greet some new neighbors and get introduced by Jiwoo.

The connection she had with the friendly landlady has what led her search for a vacant space to become easier. With just few discussions, she already claimed the space officially hers and when she was asked what business she has in mind that made her purchase this: “I always wanted to build my own flower shop.” Irene answered in which the respondents agreed to her decision as it does seem like a perfect fitting to their rural community that provides lots of plants.

Having new friends to speed up Irene’s establishing of her new flower shop, it didn’t became a bothersome to look for various flowers to choose and buy with the intention to sell it to others by her own. The deliveries would be out by no time, it’s up for Irene to give them the go signal of when it would be.

As for the empty space she already have, it would be unacceptable and plain if she won’t put decoration and other changes to transform a single room into a legit shop. To lessen the struggle of searching to the outer cities, thankfully Jiwoo and the other neighbors knew someone who can help Irene in her business’ concern.

While she was cleaning the house, she heard her doorbell rang and a few knocks on the door. Irene paused her task and went outside.

Opening the gate, she found a man standing in front of her wearing just simplest outfit in a cap on his head while carrying a tool box and extra pockets for other acessories. As she met his face, she found him smiling at her as brighter as the sun this morning and somehow it got her in awe just by looking at it.

“Hello, miss. May I ask if you are Bae Irene?” The man spoke.

“Yes, you’re talking to her right now. Perhaps you must be…”

“Ah yes, I learned that you were looking for a carpenter to help create your shop. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m YN LN, the carpenter who can help you with that.” He offered his hand to her and she accepted.

She felt his touch and the firmness of his grip as she stares at him with a welcoming grin. “Thanks for accepting my request, Mr. LN.”

“No worries, it’s my job anyway.” He shook it off sheepishly. “So uhm, I am ready to begin my service today, can you show me where your shop will be?”

“Yeah, sure. Just one moment.” She excused herself as she rest her house’s electricity to leave and guide YN on the way to their designated location.

ACT 2

They reached the area that Irene was mentioning. It’s scroll gate was closed and no more sign that says “FOR SALE” like the past few days.

“So uhm here’s where I want to open it.” Irene presented the soon-to-be flower shop to YN who looked at her before turning his attention to the sealed space. “Not too much, right?”

“Yeah but it won’t be a bothersome if I work on to larger ones. Handled some before.” YN said. “But hey, this is a nice spot to have it.”

“Really? That’s nice to know.” Irene calmly replied. “I was actually hoping that there’s people who will come by, I mean… selling plants not be that much entertaining to be a go-to place at when you go shopping but… I want to make it different, you know. Changing the ideology of that.” She added.

“Point taken, but you can leave it to me on that if that’s your goal. I’ll help you turn your shop become eye-capturing not just from your products but with its aesthetic as well.” You assured. “I suppose you have an idea on how to make this place look what it should be. Just say it and I can make it possible.”, he patted his toolbox to refer at.

“You do seem pretty convincing and confident with your skill, Mr. LN.” Irene said in her amazed tone. “Is that why you’re popular around here?”

“Ahh that, I don’t know, maybe?” his contagious chuckle affected Irene as well. “I would rather just say that I can rely on my 20+ years of my experience doing carpentry and from how my previous clients all through those times were satisfied at the outcome I provide them, not that I’m forcing you to expect too high on me but your trust would be enough.”

“Let’s see if the rumors are true then.” Irene bounced her eyelids with an anticipating smirk. “Hold on, let me show you inside. It’ll be empty obviously but yeah…”

“To visualize what I can do with it, I get it.” YN understood the point. They both looked at each other and Irene nodded with a smile before she hesitantly went away.

She rolled out the gate and opened the glass door, which allowed YN to roam his eyes around on the inside. Irene was doing the talking as she was given permission to speak about the plan she has in mind on how to transform such boring, small, lifeless room into a vibrant, captivating, and cozy atmosphere that compliments the flowers she will stock in here for selling soon.

YN was directed by Irene around and through his head he compliments how creative her imagination was to turn this place around, something he hasn’t encountered to a person for quite a long time. Most of the works he did was done mostly through his own idea just to construct something beautiful, but with Irene, it’s beginning to make him feel that he’s going to have fun and won’t dire out himself on finishing this new task in production.

“That��s all I can give for my dream shop. About your materials by the way, as part of my token of appreciation, you can tell me what materials you will need for designing this room and I’ll cover all of those.”

“Wait, seriously?” YN was dumbfounded. “A-ahh, you don;t n-need to if it’ll cost your money to be spent more, I don’t like that my service should demand much costly price in return. You can just focus on your stocks to fill up your shop, I’m good.”

“Are you sure, Mr. LN? I have no problem with it, like I said it’s a way of saying thank you for your help.” Irene tries to contemplate him.

“It’s fine, actually you helped me already. This is another income for me and I have something to do again with myself being a carpenter.” YN confirmed. “I already have my own source to grab some materials I’ll need to build every detail you’ve told me.”

“If that’s the case then, I don’t want to force myself too much.” Irene embarrassingly laughs. “Thank you again for this, Mr. LN.”

“You’re welcome.” He bowed after in respect.

They exit the shop and Irene closes its doors and gate again. Before they separate ways, YN announces that he’ll start going to that source he’s mentioning and most likely will begin the construction tomorrow. Irene took note of that and both were now looking forward to the progress of the ongoing project they’re both invested in.

The following days, each changes that were being applied to the walls through every corner was evident to both YN and Irene, and it makes them amused to notice how everything is going smooth. What makes these even more interesting for Irene is that she could only watch YN do these all by himself, remembering the first day of his visit to the shop with the materials he need that she thought there’s more men incoming to assist YN in the construction but to her surprise, YN said there’s no one and it’ll be him who will do all the work.

Sensing that it had the lady speechless due to concern, YN ease down Irene by trying to persuade her that he’s been doing this for a long time and not once he complained about it because he prefers to work alone. He knows what he’s doing and as much as he is willing to teach and instruct other men to help him, atleast he won’t be going around to multitask of observing their task when he could just completely finish it all off by his own.

The impressive skills and talent of YN has gotten into Irene slowly by slowly. Not only that, during his busy days of renovating her store, she also discovered more of YN’s down to earth personality. A positive, humble, and sociable person was all she can describe while having a conversation with him through the breaks, which probably what makes it more enjoyable other than how much she provides him snacks to recharge his energy.

In some of the topics they’ve had, love talk was part of those that slipped in to their curiosities. It wasn’t suspicious for them at first, that’s why they’re able to answer it straightforwardly, although YN’s has richer information. Both of them admitted they are currently single but what caught Irene’s interest more is his reason.

It wasn’t because he doesn’t want to be involved in relationship these days, it’s rather due to the feeling of having personal incapability to win a woman’s heart because of things that what makes about him. Despite his proudness of doing this occupation for decades, YN reinstates that at the same it makes him insecure that being like this may not be that attractive to women to consider a guy like him, as he is aware of the stereotypical truth that they include carpentry as one of the less-demand jobs and it makes him afraid that once the girls learned it about him, they’ll reject him with the possibility that he might not be able to support them financially. Sadly, he couldn’t deny that idea.

YN also mentioned that as of now he currently lives along with the mastermind that pushes him to accept that flower shop construction offer because of her love with flowers: his sister who is now married and have two kids at home.

Those along with his job are what gives him responsibility and purpose still in his personal life aside from being unsuccessful in love. As Irene listened through all of that, she couldn’t help but to feel sorry for YN and she hopes it didn’t destroyed his self-esteem about his appearance because it’s a shame that even through all he said, his looks were undeniable enough to attract someone else.

Furthermore, it frustrates Irene that there are women who thinks lowly immediately of his background which proves that they only care about the looks. She could only hope that he finds someone who will value him in everything, and if its her who can do that then she’ll do what must be done for a good guy like him.

Irene’s eyes widened, confusion formed in her forehead. She was weirded out how her thoughts ended up in that way. Imagining herself volunteering to be the perfect one for YN was out of nowhere, but unsure if she can call it unexpected. After all, she already find him cute in the first place the first time her eyes landed at YN.

Disregarding how random it was, she just focused on comforting YN with kind words that speaks out on behalf of her reactions and hearing all of that had YN boost his confidence within himself. He thanked Irene for being honest to him and added that he was touched.

Both of them weren’t aware with each other that the silence and the glances they stole from each other after that heartwarming moment was the emergence of something deeper between the bond they’ve shared everyday. Their respective emotions that they keep within themselves after listening to their sides is what perturbedly urges them to do the right thing with use of their heart and minds functioning solely for one another.

ACT 3

Irene kept on enjoying YN’s presence looming around her shops while proceedingly applying more furnitures that would aid her to organize the plants neatly for the visitors to see. It grew a relief on her tah both of them had the courage and the ability to interact well with one another because if the opportunity is wasted, Irene could only hope that the construction goes slow to keep him near.

That alone is what Irene begun to distinguish her expanding interest about him, that she could be willing to set aside her priority just to have more time with him. The more they talk together, Irene’s satisfaction goes to the top, although a bit challenging that she had to contain herself from bliss of sharing these types of simple moments with you.

She was now indeed falling in love with him, she confirmed silently while she gets on to watch him focusedly hammering a wood for another level on the shelf. Her eyes shimmers at the sight of his attractive looks, having her in amazement and confusion of how could you just do a simplest thing and effortlessly show your handsome features.

But then, her smile faltered when the thought of a chance to confess had her recalling some specific choice of words that he told a week ago. Something she has now been wondering to herself if she can be the one that he actually sees from her.

She could be honest about her true feelings for him, but what about everything about her once a miracle happened? Yes, she claim that YN receiving and returning her confession would feel surreal for her because that one darkest secret she has been hiding from is still a what-if to her on how he would react once he finds out the truth.

As much as she wanted to be loved back, she has suffered enough from her bitter past that manipulated her to only be concerned with the negative consequences of her personal decision. Now that she’s attracted to this one guy in the new town she moved in, it became a hindrance for her if she would truly tell someday about her admiration to him.

“Irene?” His voice snapped her out of trance, rapidly blinking then gets to contact with YN’s puzzled appearance. “You okay? You seem to be thinking deeply about something.”

“Ahh yeah, I’m fine don’t worry. Sorry, was I out of my senses that much?”

“Mmhmm, you were staring on the floor for like almost half a minute.” He nodded. “Care to share what’s disturbing you?”

Irene looked at his face and again, the mix of embarrassment, fear, and sadness crept up in her heart. She shook her head in denial, “It’s just nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, but if you need any help, I can offer some assistance if you want. Just come by and pour out everything you’ve been storing inside.” He reminded her.

“Nah, YN you’ve already helped too much. I don’t want you to include you as well to fix my life.”

“But I want to, and I think you need it.” YN replied. Irene stared at him as she felt the seriousness to his words. “To be honest, I don’t know but… you haven’t told me anything yet I just feel like there’s something wrong that you’ve been keeping to yourself, and that’s not good at all Irene.” She kept on listening.

“We can’t heal if we don’t speak it out loud. Don’t be afraid to share it to me, I’m willing to lessen the burden that you feel if I had to because I want to keep this friendship of us going and, you know… better.” He declared.

“I can see through people if they’ve gone through a lot. It’s either in their eyes, their smiles, and how they act.”

“Wow, when did you learn to become very observative?”

“It’s already in my nature.” He shrugged. “Maybe because I care too much.” A grin formed in his face which made Irene’s heart palpitate. His closer profile and the way of his words just made her forgot all her concerns and focus only to that one necessary thing that matters to her right now.

It was day off for YN which paused the ongoing progress of the shops reconstruction. Irene decided to treat him after she cooked her favorite meal.

She followed the address that YN gave him. Through every turns and straight driving across the roads of this small town, the direction led her to stop and reach this particular two storey pleasantly looking house that had a yard inside.

She knocked on the gate while holding the aluminum tray of food. The metal clang as the door opens, YN wasn’t the one who greeted but rather, a woman who looks almost identical to him but with feminine features.

“Hello, is YN there?”

“You must be what my brother is telling about, a girlfriend.” She teased.

“E-eh?”

“HAHAHAHA just kidding, she didn’t said that. But I won’t mind if you end up to be.” She winked and clicked her tongue. “Anyway, hello! What brought you here? Do you wanna see my brother that much huh?”

“A-ahh… n-no, I just… want to give him something.” She handed the tray. “It’s a food that I cooked, please be careful, it’s hot.”

“Ooohhh this smells delicious! But sadly, he wasn’t here yet, he went out for some errands to do.” She explained which made Irene shocked. “Would you want to wait for him? You can come inside if you wan!”

“It’s okay?”

“Yeah, we accept visitors always. And now that you’re our new neighbor and my brother’s… ahihihi” She giggled in fluster which had Irene heating up with her blushes. “You’re very welcome to come here often.”

YN’s sister gave a way to her, and she accepted the invitation. She stepped inside and viewed the appearance of their cozy home. “Come on, have your way!”

As she entered their house, two kids that are sitting in the living room greeted her eyes. These must be the children of his sister that YN referred to her.

“Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness of my brother. I’m sure he will love this food from you.”

“You can try it if you want, I made it more than one servings anyway.”

“Wait, you serious?”

“Yes. Please, have a taste if you want.” Irene kindly smiled.

“Who am I reject? Oh I’m going for a bit already.” She joked before grabbing a plate. “How about we go there in the couch and talk shortly while we wait for my brother to arrive?”

“Sure, I appreciate it.”

“By the way, I haven’t introduced myself yet, I’m Joy.” She offered her hand. Her name does compliment her bright personality.

“I’m Irene.”

They went to the couch and sat. Her kids instantly went beside her and begged to taste her food on the plate. “Can I just say something real quick, I’m so stunned at how pretty you are. I didn’t even know that my brother befriended such an original visual.”

Irene is getting fluttered with Joy’s sweet comments. “Thank you, I don’t mean to brag but I do hear it often from others.”

“Keep on bragging, come on! You are pretty, and it wasn’t a lie. If I have a face like yours, I would be a K-Pop idol right now or what, be popular and attack every ones hearts with my gorgeous visuals. Do you have any talent?”

“I can sing.”

“See! Perfect for you!” Joy was amused.

“I don’t see that you’ll be needing mine, unnie. You’re beautiful as well.”

“Aish, you! Oh. I haven’t heard anyone saying that other than my husband. You understand the assignment, babe!” She gestured a blowing kiss. “Thank God you and my brother are different, I can’t stand that idiot’s arrogance. Always making me a target of his antics, do you know he rather calls me a retard?”

“Uhh… I really don’t expect that he does that.”

“Hah! He got you fooled as well, isn’t he? My brother is a moron, that’s what he is. Now you know, and you’ll be thanking me much once you get to be closer with him a lot more and you started to notice how goofy he is.”

Both of them laughed with the repeated roasts about YN behind his back, until it lowered and Joy sighed in delight before looking back at Irene. “No, but seriously speaking. I love my brother so much. Was he the first person you get to be close with after you moved here?”

“Yes.”

“Great, you got to come across with a great person like YN. Believe me, with every help and sacrifice he gave for me, I wouldn’t be here right now living peacefully with my two kids here. He’s the reason why I’m so grateful to have this life right now despite of the problems I’ve been into, he’s always right there by my side.

And I know it’ll be the same for his friends like you. Do you know that out of all the people he meet around here, you were the only one that became successful to have him repeatedly mention you everytime he comes at home after working at your shop, that’s when I knew that you are a wonderful person and looking at you up close, I never doubted him.

I don’t want to be too emotional with this but… please know that you have to trust my brother. He has it all, I swear. Consider yourself lucky already that you meet a man like him, because he won’t hesitate to cheer you up, assist you when you need it, and most importantly… to accept you with open arms.”

Joy’s speech made Irene froze as every words struck into her, relatable and convincing it sounded. Her times with YN had her revisiting and not a single information that Joy used to describe her beloved brother was a lie. She saw it all and it seems that it wasn’t the entirety of it yet.

The desire to discover more of him is pushing her again to do it. Her thought were interrupted when they heard the gate close.

As she turned her head around and stood up, YN appeared on the door frame. Both of them saw each other, their mouth gaped slightly at the surprise of seeing themselves in a new place, before their reactions displayed an uplifted grin.

“I-Irene? What brings you here?”

“Just wanted to see you.” She answered shortly which made his chest heavy in overwhelm.

ACT 4

YN stayed up until night at Irene’s shop, eager to replenish the remaining sections of the shop in his last day of helping for the construction. It was bittersweet for Irene, she knew the outcome of what her shop is finally going to be would be exciting but the realization that it would be his final day of his daily stay in her property had her put into a gloomy mood as well.

She didn’t want to disrespect YN’s dedication in his work, she could only show and project his bright demeanor as he is just as thrilled as she is for the finishing touch of the flower shop’s design. Her mixed emotions would then return when he turns his back around and return on his work.

The words that came from this two siblings were now helping her to contemplate about the decision she’s going to make. How she received the message of their advice were battling for dominance to see what’s going to motivate Irene to conclude the heaviness of thoughts and feelings she’s carrying for this man.

She closed her eyes as she stepped out of the room to get some air, seething the calmness and serene environment to help her focus what is it going to be. There, she slow understood that to ensure that she’s going to pick the right thing, she had to be fully committed to it without any regrets, not even a sign of negativity.

Then she reflected back on her past, she had a lot of worst scenarios to encounter and endure because of the truth that she is gay and now transitioned into a transgender woman from her parents, neighbors, old friends, etc. It was hard for her to make them explain this new version of her and to rebuild that connection they once had, but to no avail, and it eats her up until now that it’s making her feel and think that her decision ruined her life when she thought it was for her sake of becoming free and better.

She felt selfish of what others may feel, inconsiderate of how they would take this information, and a traitor for betraying the perspective they had on her. If she has to make a decision that will never haunt her for its consequences, then her mind is now made up.

She won’t let history repeat itself again. This is about forgetting the past and focusing on her present situation. She’s going to confess at YN tonight.

“And it’s done!” YN exclaimed as he attached one last screw to wrap up his duty for Irene’s shop. “You can start your business anytime soon. How was it?”

“Just like what I wanted it to be.” Irene roamed her eyes around in awe, she couldn’t believe it that another dream of hers has came to life, thanks to YN. “Well done, YN. This is awesome.”

“You’re welcome.” YN nodded. “So uhm, I guess you’re going now for deliveries next.”

“Yeah.”

“Just tell me when are you gonna open, alright? I could help you set things up. It doesn’t mean that my job around here is done I’ll let things in control just by yourself. If… that’s okay for you.”

“Oh o-okay, I’ll remember that.” Irene smiled.

After she closed the shop and hide her newly polished place from the eyes of the public, YN and Irene looked at each other. Time is shrinking as Irene waits for the perfect opportunity to do it.

“So uhh, I’ll see you again if I can.” YN said. “Good night, Irene!”

“Wait, I want to say something to you also.” Irene stopped him from walking. “It’s not about the shop, it’s… another that has been filling up inside of me since then,”

“Well, look at you. There you go, finally opening up to me.” YN was exhilarated, stepping closer at her which made her flinch a bit in shyness. “I’m all ears.”

“Yeah, I thought about what you’ve told me last time about… sharing what’s bothering me and not letting it just bottled up within me.” Irene stated. “But it’s more of about you telling me that I was honest to you.” YN kept on listening.

“I did say that, why? Is there anything wrong to it?”

“Yeah but it’s more of me to be blamed with because… I felt like I was being honest enough to you yet.” Irene said. “I thought that if you could share your past struggles in your personal life, that means you trust me and… now that we’re friends, that’s what it’s all about right? Giving back the kind treatment that others were doing to make us feel.

:YN… I hope you won’t distance yourself from me when I tell you this.”

“About what?” YN asked. “This is getting suspense ain’t gonna lie, seems like you’re about to drop some biggest secret that you were hiding. I mean, it’s okay though it’s not actually that I;m forcing you-”

“No wait please, quiet for a second and let me be.” YN zips his mouth, feeling like he got scolded. “Sorry.” “No, I trust you, YN. Believe me, that’s why I’m ready to do this. It’s just that there’s something that makes me afraid when I finally say it to you… that I’m a transgender.”

YN’s hand covering his mouth dropped first before his jaw slowly slipped downwards after what he just heard. His eyes slightly largened in surprise.

“What I fear is that now you know, you’ll avoid me just like everybody else. I only got to tell you this because I was motivated by what you said to me and what your sister told me about you too, that I’m lucky to have a friend like you. That’s why I don’t want to secure myself from these walls I built around me through these years now that I find a person that is wholeheartedly nice to me and someone that I… am interested with.”

“Irene… you do?”

Irene lowered her head and lured her gaze away in embarrassment. “It’s been weeks now that I’ve begun to feel different whenever you’re near. Your presence, I feel so alive when you’re around me.”

“I didn’t want to be what I think I’ve became when everyone that is close to me rejected me because of my identity. I don’t want to betray, to be selfish, and doubtful of you. I’ve been through enough.” A tear flowed in her cheek brought by the overwhelming emotions urging her burden to affect her. “I just wanted to be seen as a good and a normal person.”

Not long after, shadow on the ground merged around his, and suddenly she felt his embrace wrap around her fragile self. “Come on, I thought it would be threatening or something for me to be aware. Irene, you don’t have to be scared either because you are transgender or you’re feeling more of me. I accept you for whatever makes this entirety of you. That’s what it matters, being real and true to yourself. Even me, I would rather be hated for something that I am than be loved for something that I’m not. I get you, it’s tiring to keep on fooling yourself just to please people.

And you don’t have to do that to me. For me, whatever I see through you and now what I’ve learned of you. It didn’t changed a single thing. You’re still attractive to my eyes.”

YN felt his hand shiver when Irene began sobbing on his gentle grasp. “I’m sorry for what they’ve done to you. They don’t deserve you. I’m glad that our fate led to us meeting, because now you got to meet someone who will accept you. And I will be here always to stay as long you’re still the one I like.”

They stayed there for a few more minutes before Irene thought his care is enough. She leaned away and YN helped her wipe off her tears. “Feels good doesn’t it? To pour everything that causes you pain and torment.”

“It does. Thank you so much, YN.”

“Can I ask a very random question, I just became curious. What’s your original name when you were… you know, like me.”

“Bae Joosung.”

“Oh, and now… I suppose it’s Bae Irene?”

“Irene is actually my English name. I did surgery back in Sweden and stayed there for a couple of years. My current name now is Bae Joohyun.”

“Oh, interesting. Well they both sounded cute.” They both laughed. “So, Bae Joosung or should I call you Irene. Let me repeat this again, I can clearly say that I was not gay, but I am willing to be now and I’m not scared anymore to discover what is love again. You maybe a trans but I am not ashamed telling you that for the past months I’ve loved you, now even more for learning who you really are. I’m not ashamed by that so why should you, haven’t you already decided who you are now then why are you having that negative feeling, aren’t you wanna be loved?”

“I… I want you to.” She whispered.

“Then let me adore you. I’ll do it like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do.”

“But I can’t give you … you know, kids.” Irene concerningly mentioned.

“I can work on that … my noona and her husband … which unfortunately have passed away from an airplane crash leaving their kids behind…” YN cautiously explained

“Sooyoung-ah? O oh my god, I-I’m so sorry for that, YN.” Irene was flabbergasted at the revelation of YN’s sister’s tragic backstory.

“You two were already close for a short span, it was lovely watching those two messing around back then but now they’re just remnants of the past. Their kids, my two nephews and a niece are under our care. Well, it’s just me who currently acts as their father-figure being an uncle. Sooyoung would definitely appreciate if… an auntie like you can somehow join me to take care of them.”

“Say no more, YN. You got me on that.” Irene could only nod in agreement as both of them grinned widely at each other. They hugged again, their newfound relationship has helped them to settle their inner conflicts manifested by their challenges and heartbreaking experiences as they bravely departed into their desired future being together.

ACT 5

Months later, the gossips about YN and Irene’s relationship spread across the neighborhood including the truth of her being a transgender. To add the happiness that she’s receiving, everybody welcomed her still, and YN proudly watched her girlfriend get along with new acquaintances.

Irene also lived up to her promise of standing as the aunt and guardians for Sooyoung or Joy’s children with YN. Sooyoung was very thankful that the weight of her responsibility became even lighter because of her kindness of assistance. The kids already had a great impression to the two, and it was not a day where all of them go play around their houses.

What had them both in complete shock was the moment when Irene requested YN that they go to her childhood home to visit her family, both for the aim to ask for their blessing on their relationship and to seek acceptance as well. After couple of asks from YN is Irene is sure about this, she replied that she is and she wanted to do this.

They arrived at her house in the city. The maids allowed them in and for the first time in years, Irene got to meet her family again. She admittedly was scared and nervous to face them again, but with YN’s support beside her she has the courage now to confront them. To her surprise though, her parents immediately rushed to hug her and emotions broke from the longing and a proper closure of their longtime conflict. They finally greeted and claimed her as their ‘daughter’ and even allowed YN on their relationship.

A year afterwards, YN and Irene got married outside of South Korea and also decided that they want to have their own children to raise. They adopted two a young boy named Jinwoo into their family.

“Hahaha, what is it, Jinwoo-ah?” Irene asked her son tugging her dress while she waters the plants.

“Eomma, go help YN appa make kimchi stew, please! I’m hungry!” Jinwoo pleaded. She sighed and chuckled, she knew that her husband must be struggling again on cooking this dish.

Meanwhile inside their house, YN was about to prepare in the kitchen when she heard the door bell rang. He opened the door and there, his sister Joy and her friends who visited their humble abode.

“Oh hey YN, how is it being a dad?” Wendy asked as she saw his apron and some of the toys scattered on the food. “HAHAHA, no hard feelings, just joking, shit I went too far with that, am I? Sorry about it.” Wendy noticed her mistake as she saw his deadpanned reaction.

“Hey, it’s okay and yes I’m fine raising kids unlike you with your single, no boyfriend since birth ass.” YN hissed and lets out a smug smile before turning around as he lets the girls in.

“Aish this brat, that hurts you know!” Wendy grumpily complained.

“Hahaha!” Joy laughed at how defeated Wendy looked after getting teased back.

“Good one, oppa! … ehh, is that your wife?” Yeri turned to the woman who is being pulled inside by their son from the yard.

“Woah, she’s gorgeous, why should I be surprised?” Seulgi

“Well, girls, I had Joy call you all here ‘cause I know my lady here will be more comfortable with that rather than a bunch of dudes to invite in the house.”

“How about you?” Irene asked him.

“Me? I got my boys here.” He said as he patted his son and his two nephews. “Who’s up for basketball?” They all shouted “Me!”

As they left the scene, they all laughed. “Aish, I was supposed to just help him cook kimbap and now he’s gone.” Irene shook her head. “Hi everyone, I’m Bae Joohyun or Irene and it’s nice to meet you girls.” she greeted at her lovely visitors.

“Hello! Wait, have we met before?” Wendy asked.

“I don’t know, maybe? You all seem familiar as well.” Irene chuckled sheepishly.

“Who knows? Maybe we know each other from our past lives.” Yeri winked.

“Yah, like what are we? Some sort of a girl group?” Joy humorously commented.

“That would be cool.” Seulgi shrugged. Irene could only laugh at them, they don’t know yet that they were actually her batchmates except Joy that she knew back when they were in college. Such coincidence had her both astonished and ecstatic to meet some few people who have been kind for her even just for a short time of knowing them before.

“Oh yeah, please take a seat. I’ll prepare us all a lunch.” Irene excused her guests and before she went to the kitchen, she stopped by to watch her beloved husband play with the kids. Seeing him made her feel very thankful of this new life that she chose… in which YN changed for the better. === END ===

[moonkissedmagic]

lavender & honey (chapter 1)

pairings: Agatha x Reader, Wanda x Reader

synopsis: As you begin to finally open yourself back up to the possibility of love, the ghost of your past makes her return.

a/n: Been reading about my ladies so much, I decided to finally just write for them :)

I love writing, but this isn’t necessarily my thing, so please be kind! As of right now, I have like half a plan for this, so if anyone has any ideas at any point, please let me know! Enjoy!

P.S. We love yearning and drama over here! I am dramatic! I use dramatic language! Be warned!

word count: 5.1k

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chapter 1 -

Morning comes softly in your little corner of town.

It seeps in slowly through the tall front windows of Lavender & Honey, casting golden light across the polished wood floors and the leafy silhouettes of potted ferns still heavy with dew. Outside, the street yawns to life with the occasional rattle of a bicycle or the whisper of a neighbor’s dog walk. But inside the shop, it’s a quiet that hums—alive with the scent of soil, morning-brewed tea, and a hint of cinnamon.

You open every day at seven. Not because the foot traffic demands it, but because there’s a peace in the early hours—when you can talk to the plants without anyone thinking you’re strange, and when the world hasn’t yet tried to ask too much of you.

The bell over the door gives a lazy chime as you unlock it and prop it open, letting the cool morning breeze sweep in. You set about your ritual: watering the succulents by the window, trimming browning petals from yesterday’s bouquets, checking the cooler full of pre-made arrangements. There’s a rhythm to it. One you’ve built safely around your work.

The day unravels as most days do—soft, comfortable, long. While you’re successful enough to keep the shop open without worry, you’re by no means a bustling business. Your plants keep you from going crazy, but don’t always ease the looming sense of loneliness.

Just before closing, the bell rings again and you look at the newcomers—a couple, young and in their early twenties. There’s a lightness about them, a softness in the way they walk shoulder to shoulder. They step inside carefully, eyes wide and delighted, whispering to each other in awe at the fresh arrangements. The bride-to-be clasps her hands in front of her, cheeks glowing with quiet excitement as she points to the peonies. Her fiancé lingers beside her, clearly smitten, nodding along like the flowers themselves are meant to impress him. You offer a gentle smile and ask if they need any help. They gush—sweet and unreserved—about their engagement, the bride half-laughing as she confesses she just couldn’t wait to start planning.

You keep smiling, offering compliments and congratulations with the ease of long practice, but something tugs inside of you. A familiar sting, quiet but persistent. It doesn’t hurt the way it once did, but the ache is still there—dulled now, like an old wound that flares up when the season changes. Still, you mean every word you offer them. Wistful envy is an emotion you’ve become quite familiar with, having learned to live beside it, rather than resenting it.

You lock up, motions echoing those from the morning, only now they’re slower, heavier with exhaustion that’s settled into your limbs like fog.

A long shower and your favorite takeout are sounding better by the second, but that plan goes out the window as soon as your phone buzzes on the counter.

Jen: Don’t even TRY to get out of coming tonight, Y/N!!

Jen: Your ass better be there by 10 or I’m blasting pictures from when you drank a whole fucking bottle of tequila

You huff out a laugh at how well she knows you, rolling your eyes as you immediately respond.

You: low blow, kale. low blow.

You: but i agree that was not my finest moment

Sighing, you convince yourself it would be nice to see everyone, even if you would rather be in your pajamas on the couch.

You: ugh fine! i’ll be there

Jen: Wear something sexy!!!! You know who is coming ;)

You: goodbye jennifer

You brush her off, but can’t deny the light blush that dusts your cheeks. You can’t help but picture her. Your current... Crush? Obsession? Something quieter and far more dangerous than you’re ready to name? Nothing has happened yet—you’re not entirely sure it will, considering you and your crippling fear of trust and commitment—but god, you want it to. You shake off the heated thoughts that begin to root themselves in your brain, finishing up and heading home to get ready.

The hot shower is grounding, steam curling around you like a cocoon, washing away the residue of the day. You lose yourself in the familiar ritual—curling your hair, drawing on eyeliner with a practiced flick, humming along to your favorite songs. Choosing your outfit takes longer than you'd like to admit, clothes tossed carelessly across your carpet like fallen leaves. Eventually, you land on a black lace top that clings in all the right places, sheer and hinting at the matching bra beneath it. It’s paired with a skirt short enough to feel daring, but long enough to still feel like you. Sexy, but not trying too hard. Jen would approve.

The lingering scent of your perfume and sound of your heels follow you out the door, nerves settling low in your stomach. You’re not exactly a club girl, and it’s been ages since you last went out. Still, you square your shoulders and take a deep breath, attempting to prepare yourself for the night ahead. You text Jen that you’re on the way, receiving an enthusiastic reply with way too many exclamation points.

You've barely stepped out of your car when you hear it. Warm and melodic and far too intoxicating.

“Y/N!”

Your breath catches. Of course. Of course she’d be waiting outside like some kind of beautiful surprise the universe left just for you. She stands there, radiant as ever in the glow of the club's neon sign, all flushed cheeks and tender eyes that make your knees feel weak.

Your smile is a bit tense, but nonetheless genuine as you respond, “Wanda! How are you?”

The Sokovian beams and it feels like your chest expands to make room for the way she looks at you. She drinks you in with those eyes, slow and deliberate, like she’s cataloging every inch of you for later. And when she finally speaks—

“Better now that you’re here, dorogoy.”

Your cheeks blaze. She always does this—calls you names, soft and accent laced. Makes your stomach twist in too many directions. Gives you a feeling you thought was reserved for only one person.

“You’re sweet,” you softly remark.

“Not as sweet as you, I’m sure,” she smirks back.

You chuckle and clear your throat in hopes of breaking the rapidly growing tension, not exactly sure how to respond.

This is too much, too fast you think. Realistically you know it’s not—it’s barely anything and you’ve known Wanda for months now—if anything it’s been too little, too slow. But there’s no buffer, no anyone around, and you feel exposed. You think you really like her and you don’t want to fuck it up. It’s been a while since you’ve been with anyone, let alone interested in anyone, and you feel severely out of practice.

Before you can spiral further, Wanda nods toward the club’s entrance where music pulses through the brick walls in time with your rapidly growing headache. “Ready to brave the storm?”

You smile gratefully, still a bit shy, and fall into step beside her. Her hand finds the small of your back, fingers steady and reassuring. It feels nice, you think—the combination of her warm skin and cool rings sends shivers down your spine. You keep your composure, refusing to implode from one simple touch.

Once you step inside, the world seemingly transforms. Everything is alive—the floor vibrates beneath every beat, lights strobe in sync with the music, bodies move like waves in the dark. The scent of cologne, sweat, and something sweet hangs in the air, overwhelming your senses.

Wanda’s hand remains firm against your lower back—if anything, she draws you closer as the crowd presses in, her fingers digging slightly into your hip to tether you to her. The gesture is subtle but grounding, and you lean into it instinctively.

You scan the room for any glimpse of your friends, hoping to find them sooner rather than later. Before you’re forced to look too hard, Wanda’s hand slides from your back to your elbow, down to your fingers. She links them with her own, wordlessly tugging you along. You bite your lip and take a deep breath, letting yourself be led—the comfort of her touch melting away whatever nerves still clung to your spine.

She cuts a path through the crowd with easy confidence, ducking past clusters of dancers and half drunk patrons until you reach a table tucked away in the back right corner of the club. You find Nat, Maria, Lilia, and of course, at the center of it all, Jen. The second she spots the two of you she’s smirking at the rest of the group, giving you a look you don’t have the energy to analyze.

“Well, look who finally showed up,” she announces, voice rising above the music.

You roll your eyes at her theatrics, lips twitching into a grin despite yourself. There’s always been something infectious about Jen’s energy—brash and bright and impossible to ignore.

Wanda squeezes your hand gently, her smile lazy as she steadily remarks, “My fault. I held her up in the parking lot.”

You groan internally. You can already see where this is going.

Jen’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. She leans forward, practically vibrating with delight. “Oh, I’m sure you did,” she says, the innuendo barely veiled.

Wanda lets out a soft, playful sigh. “Grow up, Jen.”

“Yeah. Grow up, Jen.” You piggyback off the Sokovian, further leaning into her touch. You start to relax, feeling more comfortable as she takes the lead.

The beauty guru raises her eyebrows, amused by your obedient echo. Wanda’s gaze dips toward you, eyes twinkling with approval as she rubs a teasing thumb along the sliver of exposed skin between your skirt and top.

Already a little tipsy and with eyes full of mischief and fondness, Jen reaches out, pulling you into a warm, slightly sweaty hug that smells of vodka and expensive perfume.

“By the way, you look hot. Like, ‘step-on-me’ hot. You’re welcome.”

You laugh, shaking your head, though you don’t deny the compliment. The rest of the group is scattered around the table, drinks already flowing, bodies swaying subtly to the beat. Everyone’s happy to see you, and the energy is easy—effortless in a way that only true friendships are. There’s no pressure, no need to perform. Just warm, familiar faces and the low thrum of alcohol softening the edges of the world.

You say your hellos to the rest of the group, slipping into the circle of chairs with Wanda never too far from your side. The night hums along with easy laughter and clinking glasses—a couple of rounds come and go, conversation flowing smoother with each sip. You're more relaxed than you expected to be—maybe it's the drinks, maybe it's the way Wanda keeps drifting just close enough to brush against your arm. At some point, your third (maybe fourth?) glass is empty, and before you can register the lull, Wanda glances over and offers to get you a refill.

She leans in, her breath warm against your ear, “What do you want, dorogoy?”

The way she says it—low, intimate, affectionate—makes your stomach flutter. You turn toward her, lips twitching into a playful smile.

“Surprise me?” you murmur, a little bolder now.

You hadn’t meant for it to sound suggestive—but the second it leaves your lips, you know it did. Wanda’s eyes darken immediately, her attention narrowing in on the place where you’d bitten your lip just a moment ago.

“Gladly, detka,” she purrs, voice smooth and languid like dripping honey. “You just sit there and look pretty, okay?”

It’s not a question. You nod without even realizing it, absentmindedly staring after her.

Someone clears their throat. Loudly. You blink and glance up, suddenly aware that every single pair of eyes at the table is trained on you. Some are smug, some are affectionate, but all are supportive. You duck your head in response, feeling embarrassed for seemingly getting caught.

Jen, unsurprisingly, is the first to speak. “Wow. You are down bad.”

Nat snorts beside her, “Can’t blame you though. Maximoff might be in even worse shape than you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you try to deny.

They all look at you incredulously, not bothering to entertain the lie with any sort of acknowledgment. Before Jen can open her mouth with another taunt, you beat her to it.

“Okay, but how is everyone? It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you guys.”

She wants to push, but your genuineness is unmistakable and they know that while it's a diversion, you are truly curious about how they’ve been.

Jen rolls her eyes but softens, telling you about work and her frustratingly perfect relationship with a European male model. You nod along, chiming in and asking questions at all the right times.

Maria slips away to help Wanda at the bar, and Nat joins the conversation, launching into an animated rant about her gym and the unrelenting cloud of testosterone that hangs around the place. Lilia remains mostly quiet, content to observe, her eyes speaking louder than words.

Soon, Wanda and Maria return with overflowing cups, handing them out and matching them to their rightful owners. The Sokovian takes her place next to you, close but comfortable.

She slides a vibrantly colored drink towards you, “For you, printsessa.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, but gratefully accept the cup, “What is it?”

Her lips curl around her glass, “You said to surprise you, detka. It’s a surprise.”

She tips her head toward you, her eyes practically daring you to try it. You oblige, taking a generous sip under her unrelenting gaze. The drink is fruity, with just enough bite to make it interesting. As soon as you’re done, her eyes are on your lips.

“How is it?” Her eyes flick up to yours, smug but heated.

“Sweet,” you tease back.

She leans in, lips a breath from yours. “Not as sweet as you, I’m sure,” she repeats from earlier.

You feel a small flicker of courage as everything around you seems to fade away. You ignore all of your doubts and latch on as tight as you can.

“Why don’t you find out?” Now it’s you watching her, gaze drawn to the curve of her smile.

Wanda doesn’t waste a second. Her mouth claims yours like she’s been waiting forever, her lips soft but sure. When her tongue traces along the seam of your mouth to get a better taste, you open without thinking, letting her in. You try to muffle the whimper that escapes your throat, but she hears it—feels it—and you know from the way her smirk presses against your skin that she loves it.

You’re both panting when she breaks away, licking her lips and breathing into you, “I was right. You’re even sweeter than I thought.”

That’s about as much of a pause she gives before diving back in, devouring you more intensely than before. Her hands move to your face, rings cool against your cheeks, fingers threading into your hair. You lean into the contact; nearly forgetting where you are, who’s around, or what came before her.

Then—

A loud noise. Sharp, direct. Suddenly, you’re being yanked away.

“What the fuck?” You gasp, spinning to find Jen gripping your arm with a look that immediately sobers you.

You know that look.

“What? What’s wrong?” Your voice wavers.

“Don’t freak out,” Jen says carefully, too carefully.

Nat’s voice cuts through next, low and laced with warning, “Oh hell no.”

Wanda’s hand slips into yours again, grounding you, trying to help even though she’s clearly confused.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” You panic.

Before anyone can explain, you hear a voice you would know anywhere—a voice you could pick out of any crowd.

“Y/N?”

They’re still a distance away, but you can tell they’re moving in your direction.

All the breath leaves your lungs at once and you feel the color drain from your face. “Oh my god.”

Wanda gently tilts your chin towards her, trying to grab your attention. “Hey.”

“Y/N, it’s okay. We’ll just tell her to go away,” Jen offers, though her voice lacks confidence.

Maria scoffs, “Yeah, because she’s a great listener.”

Wanda’s brows are furrowed, Lilia looks like she’s sending up a prayer, Maria’s eyes are practically falling out with how hard she’s rolling them, and Nat’s gripping her glass so tightly it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered.

As soon as you’re able to open your mouth and attempt to form any kind of response, you’re cut off, and this time, the voice is much closer.

“Y/N. Baby.”

You shudder and somehow find the courage to look up, seeing Agatha Harkness standing not five feet away from you.

And just like that, your entire world tilts.

Time stops—or at least it feels that way. The chaos of the club melts into a distant hum, swallowed by the thunder of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Agatha. She’s just as devastatingly beautiful as ever, maybe even more so now that she’s been carved from absence. Her hair is long, curling in untamed waves that spill over her shoulders like ink. Her eyes—those impossibly blue, soul-splitting eyes—lock onto yours the instant you look over, as if she’s been holding her breath, waiting for this exact moment.

She’s dressed like a dream you’ve tried to forget—tailored pants that hug her hips, a low-cut blouse in midnight silk that reveals just enough to make your mouth dry, and heels that click with too much confidence for someone who should not be here. You meet her eyes for the first time in two years, and it’s as if no time has passed at all.

Surprisingly, Wanda is the first to speak up.

“Baby?” she repeats, her voice firm but questioning, a single eyebrow arching as she throws a glance your way. She doesn’t know who this woman is, but from the tension buzzing through the air like a livewire, she assumes she isn’t welcome.

Agatha’s gaze finally tears itself away from your face, whipping to where Wanda sits beside you. Shifting with something sharp, she sizes her up, jaw tightening with challenge.

“Yes. And you are?” The words are dipped in acid, thrown like daggers made specifically for the Sokovian. There’s no mistaking the bite, the way her tone seems to curl around jealousy and disdain. Agatha might not know who Wanda is, but she sees her. She sees her hand on your knee. Her lipstick on your mouth. Her presence next to you, filling the space that once belonged to Agatha.

To her credit, Wanda doesn’t flinch. She lifts her chin slightly, her expression unreadable except for the coolness in her eyes. It’s as if she’s weighing the woman in front of her—measuring her—and not finding anything particularly impressive.

She opens her mouth to respond, but Agatha cuts her off with an icy smirk.

“Oh no, sweetheart, I don’t actually give a shit.” Her lips curve upward, but her eyes—those eyes—betray the truth. They scream. They’re stormy and desperate and furious that someone else has touched what’s hers.

Her attention immediately returns to you like it never left, taking you in with a passion that steals the breath from your lungs. It’s the same way she used to drink you in—like you were her favorite sin—but now it’s hungrier. More frantic. Her eyes devour you like she’s been starved. She rushes to get her first fix of you in what has been far too long for her liking.

“Agatha,” you exhale, voice careful. You say her name like it’s just a word, like it doesn’t still echo through the hollow parts of you.

“Angel,” she breathes in return, the word breaking apart at the edges. It comes out raw and unguarded, like it has physically hurt her to be away from you all this time.

Even with music blaring, the silence that follows is deafening. It stretches on for too long, too tight, until it’s nearly suffocating. Agatha doesn’t seem to mind. She’s always thrived in tension, lived in chaos. And tonight, she’s in her element—content to stand in the middle of the storm as long as your eyes are on her.

“Can we go somewhere? To talk?” Her voice is quieter now, softer, but still firm. Still that same sultry, low tone that once consumed you so fully you forgot where she ended and you began.

There’s something beneath her request—a fracture, an edge of vulnerability that remains hidden from everyone but you. She stands tall, but you hear the tremble beneath the surface.

Nat’s voice slices through the moment like a blade. “She’s good. You, on the other hand, should definitely go.”

Agatha raises her eyebrow in sharp amusement, barely peeling her eyes away to glance at the redhead with a look teetering between condescension and beguilement.

“Natasha.” She dryly acknowledges, spitting out her name like a punch disguised as a greeting.

Nat’s jaw tics. Her hands are clenched. You’re pretty sure she’s moments away from launching herself across the table.

Jen, trying to salvage some kind of order, steps in with her usual exasperated flair. “Alright, everyone! We’re all adults here. Let’s act like it, yeah?”

“Act like it?” Nat snaps, eyes wide with disbelief. “What, so all of a sudden you’re on her side? What the fuck, Jen?”

“I’ve made it very clear, I’m on nobody’s side,” Jen says, raising her hands like a referee in a ring. “I just want to enjoy the night, so maybe if we just—”

“Fuck no!” Nat shouts, slamming her hand on the table. She rises to her feet, eyes burning and voice taut with anger. “She needs to leave. Now.”

The entire table bristles with energy—everyone tense, everyone watching. Even Wanda’s eyes have sharpened. No one’s speaking, but their body language screams. Lilia watches like she’s already predicted ten ways this could go. Maria sips her drink with steeled silence. The music keeps pulsing behind it all, the rest of the club unaware of the landmine that’s gone off in the back corner.

True to form, Agatha hasn’t moved an inch. She stays rooted to where she is, with her focus laser-locked onto you. She’s composed, but her stillness is a lie. You can feel the heat of her restraint—thick and searing—radiating off of her in waves.

You can feel her. That pull. The gravitational ache that’s always existed between you.

You take a deep breath and slowly stand, knowing this is your situation to sort out. You ignore the flutter of Wanda’s concerned gaze and the way Nat watches you like she’s ready to pull you back if needed. You don’t say a word, you just rise and face her. All of her.

She wastes no time drinking in every new inch of your exposed skin now that nothing is hidden from her view. But the look in her eyes isn’t just hunger—it’s need. Desperate, sharp, unfiltered. It goes beyond desire. It’s as if something buried deep inside her can’t help but call out to you, like her soul knows yours and is reaching through the spaces between you. It’s as if you’ve always belonged to each other and always will.

In her stare lives every memory, every laugh, every regret, every late night, every whispered promise she let slip away. It lives in her eyes and it begs. There’s longing written in every line of her body, and it makes you ache in places you didn’t know were still tender.

On the surface, it’s easy. She doesn’t deserve your time. She shouldn’t get another chance. Whatever excuses she’s spinning in her mind are nothing but smoke and mirrors. You know better.

But deep down, in a place you’ve tried to lock away and forget—you never stopped wanting her. Even when she hurt you. Even when she made you feel like nothing. You still wanted her—still want her. And that’s the most dangerous truth of all.

So when you open your mouth, you decide to keep it simple. You’ll calmly, but firmly, tell her to leave you be, and then you’ll turn around and get on with your night like it never happened. Easy, simple plan. You know she’ll push, try to stir up everything you’ve buried, but you also know that if you don’t break, she’ll have to let it go. You clear your throat, steeling yourself for what’s to come.

“I think that it’s—”

You don’t get the chance to finish.

“Agatha? Where the hell did you go?”

A new voice slices through the tension like a razor. Your stomach plummets. Your blood runs cold.

She turns slightly, just enough to confirm your fear.

Rio Vidal. Agatha’s co-worker—and more importantly, her ex-girlfriend.

Who just so happens to be the one person you can’t stand more than anybody else.

And in that moment, your heart shatters.

Every ounce of strength you’d managed to gather vanishes in an instant. Your breathing picks up. Your throat goes dry. And Agatha—god, Agatha flinches.

To everyone's surprise, you laugh. But it’s not light or airy—it’s broken. Jagged, like something torn loose under too much pressure. It scrapes out of you like it hurts, spilling into the air with a kind of devastation that silences the entire group.

“Oh, this is perfect.”

Agatha reaches for you, voice desperate, raw. “Y/N—”

“No, no! This is good. This makes sense.” Every part of you is trembling, like your body no longer knows how to hold itself together. You’re crumbling in front of everyone, and Agatha’s heart is breaking.

“Baby, no, it’s not what you think-”

“Do not call me that and do not say that to me!” you explode, the words ripped from your chest. “How can you look me in my face and say that to me, Agatha? After everything?”

And then Rio, in all her obliviousness—or maybe arrogance—steps forward.

“Look, sweetheart,” she says, crossing her arms like she’s doing you a favor. “You need to chill out. Take a fucking breath, okay?”

Agatha snaps her head just enough to growl, “Shut the fuck up, Rio.”

The older woman attempts to reach for you again, but your body moves before your mind catches up—pulling away fast, hitting the edge of the table in the process.

Nat immediately grabs onto your shoulder, her grip firm and steadying. She’s close, and for a moment, you find relief in her presence.

All at once, you start to regret every drink you’ve had that night as your stomach churns violently. Your chest rises and falls in uneven breaths as you manage to say, “I—I think I need to go.”

“What? No, don’t let her ruin your night, Y/N.” The Russian's voice is sharp, but you can hear the worry beneath it. Still, you can’t shake the overwhelming urge to escape.

You jerkily lean in, close enough that your words are a soft, urgent murmur against her ear. “No, I really don't feel good, Nat. I think—I think I'm going to be sick.”

Her expression changes instantly—eyes widening in alarm as she sees the color drain from your face. Without a word, she grabs your arm, pulling you into her with an easy strength. The chaos around you fades into the background as she moves, her steps quick and purposeful. She ignores the questions and protests thrown behind you, the buzz of rising voices all drowned out by the sound of your own pounding heart.

“Y/N, wait!” Agatha calls out, her voice strained between panic and guilt.

“Dorogoy, are you alright?” Wanda asks, her tone tight with unanswered concern.

You stumble slightly, but Nat holds you close—her pace unwavering as she leads you through the mass of people, weaving around obstacles like she’s done it a hundred times before. When you catch sight of the bathroom, you groan into her chest, the sight of a line of people making your stomach twist tighter.

The redhead seems to sense your frustration before you even say anything. She steps forward without hesitation, voice ringing out as she yells about some kind of emergency. Her words hit the air like a command, and before anyone can react, she shoulders her way through the group, moving with practiced ease. She doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of the door, slipping in just as someone leaves, locking it behind her with a soft click.

You don’t have time to thank her before you’re doubled over on your knees, emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet. In the midst of everything, Nat’s hands are there—gentle but unyielding. She pulls your hair back, gathering it in a makeshift ponytail with a practiced touch, holding it away from your face as you heave.

When the worst of it finally passes, your body feels drained, like there’s nothing left. You slump back against the cool bathroom wall, your eyes closing as you try to steady your breathing. The pounding in your head subsides slowly, but you still feel off balance, like you’re drifting outside your body.

After a moment, you peek up at the redhead, finding her staring down at you with a mix of concern and something softer. You take a long, shuddering breath, trying to gather your scattered thoughts.

In the end, all you can seem to come up with is an exasperated, “What the fuck?”

The woman across from you huffs out a bittersweet laugh, but before she can even consider a response, there’s a knock at the door—light, but insistent.

“Y/N? You okay in there?”

It’s Wanda, voice laced with worry—but it's not just the words that have you sitting up straight. It’s the way they buckle, like they’re strained at the edges.

You exchange a glance with Nat, and without speaking, she stands, taking a step toward the door. Just as she reaches for the handle, another voice cuts through—this time, low and dangerous.

"Why don’t you take a step back, sweetheart? Let the grown ups handle this."

It’s Agatha. Because of course it is.

[totallynotslothhh]

HOLD ME TIGHT PT.2

pairing: joost klein x fem!reader

word count: 4,380

warning: angst, smut, fluff, spanking, crying, smoking, fwb

description: The relationship between Joost and y/n seems to be going well, seemingly about to evolve, but an event drastically shifts y/n’s perspective, starting to make everything crumble.

author’s note: Hi everyone, you have no idea how eager I was to publish the second part. I absolutely love writing heartbreaking and painful stuff, you’re going to have to suffer a little, BUT FEAR NOT, I’m already working on the third part, which I’ll try to release by the end of this week, or at the latest, the beginning of the next. Please be patient. While I was writing this fanfic, I had a vivid image of Joost in 2022, so I based everything on that version of him. However, since I kept the descriptions pretty broad, I think you’ll be able to imagine him from any early era in his career.

That said, I’ll leave you to the reading now, and I’ll see you soon (probably with some meltdowns).

big kisses!

(sorry if there are grammatical errors, I tried my best, English is not my first language!!!🙏)

part.1 part.2 part.3

——————————————————————

The first rainy days of September had started to appear: grey, cloudy days, with the humid air that still hinted at the summer heat, yet gently pushed you into the thought of the cold that was soon to come.

I inhaled from the cigarette filter, savoring the bitter but damnably familiar taste of smoke, staring out at the courtyard of my apartment and the street that stretched out from my bedroom window.

-You’ve been smoking more since you started seeing Joost.-

It had been two months since my first time with Joost.

Two months since the subject of my thoughts and worries had shifted. Two months since someone had come into my life who I didn’t yet know would become the most important person in it.

We had built a relationship of unstable balance. There was always a little piece of my day dedicated to us. Whether it was in the morning, afternoon, or evening, a quick text, a call, or a meeting, whether there was sex or not.

Sex was the major protagonist of our encounters and desires. It’s true, our friendship had become mostly physical, but there was always a margin of interest in each other. We shared a mutual affection that went beyond just the act.

It showed in the small things, things that seemed small but were actually huge.

For example, he remembered the brand of cigarettes I smoked, what foods I liked and disliked, he knew how to handle me when I was sad, knew what to do when I was nervous, could read me just from a glance.

I had become an open book. Even if I tried to pretend I didn’t care about him, I couldn’t pull it off: do heart-eyes come with every look?

-Your heart’s beating fast.-

Feeling that explosion of emotions terrified me: the thoughts that always drifted to him in my free moments, the desire to see him, that kind of anxious excitement before meeting up, the chills running over my skin the moment our eyes met. That wave of sensations scared me. I didn’t want to fall in love, didn’t want to start something new, especially since the wound from my last love was still fresh.

No longer bleeding, but still open and fragile.

So fragile that a single touch could make it bleed again.

Joost was healing a wound he hadn’t caused. Without knowing it, he was soothing me with a beautifully calming rhythm, slowly making me trust him.

-Did you sleep more last night, or am I wrong?-

But it wasn’t time yet.

Would that time ever come? I didn’t know.

What I did know was that this relationship would end. Like everything else, even the good things come to an end.

Especially the good things.

The question was: would it end by evolving into something deeper, or would it break under the weight of our anxieties?

-Breathe. Relax. Enjoy the moment.-

I sighed, letting the smoke out through my nose. I rested my chin on my palm, holding the finished cigarette with the other hand.

That day, I felt particularly overwhelmed. I’d been working all morning, hadn’t carved out even a tiny bit of time for a break. Cigarettes were my “break,” if you could call it that: two minutes of filling my lungs with filth, paradoxically relaxing. Paradoxically warm.

I chuckled at the thought, glancing at my desk. It was messy and mirrored my state of being perfectly: scattered papers, small pencil sketches covering their surfaces alongside important notes, my laptop dying and about to shut off.

I took one last drag, then crushed the filter on the cold windowsill and finally closed the window.

Sniffling, I returned to my spot and checked my notifications.

No notifications.

-I want to be with Joost.-

I furrowed my brow and, without thinking twice, opened our chat, filled with quick messages but also silly or meaningful conversations. When we couldn’t see each other, any excuse was good enough to stay in touch.

Just a few minutes to make sure we weren’t letting go of each other. Holding on to that safe place.

“Wanna meet up later?”

Sent today at 5:16 PM.

Surprisingly, I got a reply immediately, before I even had time to put my phone down.

That was strange, considering Joost usually took forever to answer a message.

A carrier pigeon might’ve been faster at showing signs of life.

Sometimes I almost felt lucky to have him in my life. He was always busy with creative work, but still made the effort to give you attention.

“I was just about to text you and ask the same.”

Sent today at 5:16 PM.

That message brought a shy, stupid, useless smile to my face. And as soon as I realized it, I shook my head, biting down on my lower lip.

-Was he thinking about me?-

“At your place?”

Sent today at 5:16 PM.

“Come over when you’re free.”

Sent today at 5:17 PM.

So, after reading that last message, I turned off my phone and stood up, stretching and mentally cursing the version of myself that had bought chairs as uncomfortable as they were beautiful.

Needless to say, I left work on hold, weighing the desire to see the guy who gave me orgasms worthy of divine classification, against the need to finish the work I had piled up.

A good worker would’ve chosen wisely.

At 9:00 PM, I was in his bed.

My exhaustion gone after yet another round of sex that served as a release from those heavy, endless days. The simple feeling of his lips on my body, his hands in my hair, his gaze on me, and his dick buried deep inside me while he praised me and told me how beautiful I looked naked. Well, it made me feel good.

My head rested peacefully on his chest, legs tangled in the white sheet and with his, while I lazily caressed his calf with the top of my foot. I felt his fingers softly travel across the warm skin of my back, his calm breathing rising and falling beneath the hand I’d placed on his chest, playing with the hair there, mimicking his movements.

The welcoming silence thundered in my ears. His heartbeat set the background to the thousand thoughts flowing gently through my mind. The feeling of truly being wanted cradled me.

It was those moments.

Those moments I lived with premature nostalgia, thinking of when we’d part, of how much I’d miss them when I’d be alone, of how stupid I was for starting something like this.

“What are you thinking about?” His deep, raspy voice, thick from silence and exhaustion, made me shrug, caught slightly off guard.

“Nothing” I answered in a whisper, letting my hand glide across his stomach and down his side, trying to cuddle closer. In response, he gently turned toward me, letting me curl into him even more.

“Liar, you’re too quiet” he said, wrapping me in his warm, pale arms, brushing a hand against my cheek, which was now tinged with a soft blush.

“Just tired” I whispered, almost not wanting to break the silence between us.

I looked up at him, seeing his eyes, now narrow slits, likely trying to focus on me. He looked so innocent with that little curious pout, without his glasses, and with messy hair.

“Hungry? Want to order something?” he offered, stroking my cheek with his thumb, keeping his gaze on me, at least as much as he could.

“Maybe later” I nodded, savoring the warmth his palm gave me as it cradled my face. Touch was definitely a language that went beyond words. It was an expression of love that reassured me I wasn’t making a mistake.

Physical closeness made me feel safe, made me feel wanted.

“I really want to kiss you” he murmured a moment later, making me smile as I felt the grip of his other hand tighten, more eager, on my bare waist. I looked at him and noticed the hint of sleep in his expression. It made me laugh, because I already knew where this would end: kissing sloppily, filling the room with wet sounds, soft moans, and giggles.

“How will you do that if you can’t see?” I raised my eyebrows, watching his confused frown fade as I reached toward the nightstand and grabbed his thick glasses. Both his hands slid to my hips, and I felt his lips lazily rest on my shoulder.

“I still don’t get how you manage to see anything” I shifted slightly, putting his glasses on him and holding his face to lift his gaze toward mine. His sleepy expression hadn’t changed, but his eyes were more focused now, filled with desire, mirrored in the way he gripped my warm, tingling skin.

This boy made me feel everything.

In seconds, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. We started kissing, our tongues dancing inside each other’s mouths. I felt his breath growing heavier, his grip dropping to my ass. I kept one hand on his face and the other resting gently on his chest. He bit my lower lip and pushed his hips involuntarily against my thigh, his half-hard length pressing against me. He squeezed one cheek and kept kissing me hungrily.

I moaned into his mouth and instinctively brought my other hand to his cheek too, caressing him with my thumbs and pulling myself closer.

I felt overwhelmed, and it was the most beautiful feeling, because I knew, no matter what, Joost would be there to handle it.

He pulled away for a second to look at me. To observe my flushed cheeks, half-lidded eyes, glossy lips parted just enough to breathe. He gently pushed me under him, letting his hands explore my waist again.

“I could kiss you without stopping” he murmured warmly against my cheek, making me smile and move my hands to his shoulders. He began kissing his way from my cheek to my lips, then down my body, leaving little bites that drew soft moans from my throat.

“I’m bringing you to my next concert” he whispered against the warm skin of my chest, looking up at me but never stopping his trail of kisses.

“What?” I giggled, running my fingers through his hair and pulling him up for a kiss. I hadn’t quite caught the meaning of that sentence, I was more focused on how wet he’d just made me again.

-Didn’t catch it, or didn’t want to?-

“You said you’d like to come. I got you a backstage pass” he repeated, kissing my lips again before nestling into my neck, not giving me time to fully process it. I paused, eyes widening, pulling away slightly to stop him from kissing and distracting me more.

“Really?” I whispered, laughing and halting my hands in his hair. He looked up and locked eyes with mine.

“Yeah, You told me once you’d like to be there.”

I had told him. Almost a month ago. And he had remembered.

He had remembered that tiny sentence buried in a much larger conversation about his budding music career.

“you remembered it..” I whispered, unable to hold back a smile, which brought one to his face too. I felt his hands grip my hips, and his face disappeared from my view as he buried it once again in my neck.

“Of course I did. I remember everything you tell me” he said, sliding a hand between my legs, pressing his middle finger against my clit, then moving it between my already wet lips. I clenched around nothing, arching my back slightly and grabbing a fistful of his blond hair.

“You like it when I touch you, huh?” That phrase made me shiver and moan, writhing under the continuous pressure at my throbbing center.

“Yes… don’t stop- keep.. keep going” I murmured with closed eyes as I felt his fingers slowly push inside me, deepening the sensation alongside the bites he placed on my skin.

“I can’t wait to take you backstage, to fuck you, to cover your mouth while I pull your hair” he murmured. That image only heightened everything, his fingers curling inside me, his thumb circling my clit. I bit my lower lip, my breath quickening as chills ran down my spine. The heat from his body, the sheets, and the pleasure itself was so comforting I could’ve melted right then and there.

I felt his hips press against my thigh, his growing hardness brushing against my skin.

“Please, Joost…” I whispered, opening my eyes and tugging gently on his hair to lift his face. He did so, increasing the rhythm of his fingers, eyes locked onto my expression, entirely lost in pleasure.

“Turn around” he instructed softly, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to my lips. I opened my mouth and welcomed them, tasting myself as I sucked them hungrily. His breathing grew heavier, his arousal harder against my leg, and his smile deepened as he pushed his fingers further into my mouth. I licked them thoroughly before releasing them.

“You’re beautiful. Always” he whispered as he slowly sat up, supporting himself on his knees to give me room to turn over. I rolled onto my stomach, tucking my shoulders in and arching my back deliberately, accentuating the curve of my hips.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful, but seeing you naked beneath me… you’re even more” he said, making me blush and bury my face into the pillow. His hands took hold of the soft skin of my backside, giving it light taps and gentle squeezes as he leaned forward, trailing kisses down my spine, focusing on the dimples just above my hips.

After a few moments, I sensed him move away to grab a condom left ready on the nightstand. I raised my hips slightly, feeling exposed. When he returned to the bed, he didn’t take long to land a sharp smack on my right cheek, making me gasp and moan into the pillow, the sound fading into the rhythm of our heavy breaths.

He slid into me, gripping my hips tightly with urgent hands, which soon after struck my skin again, reddening it. He plunged his full length in and began to move at a steady pace. That position was one of his favorites: I could tell by the way he groaned, the way he caressed my back, the way his voice faltered with each thrust. I was starting to understand those parts of him too.

“God.. I- fuck..” he moaned roughly, driving into me with force, pressing his chest to my back, panting against my ear, leaving wet kisses on my shoulder. One of his hands smacked me again before grabbing both cheeks, spreading them slightly, as if to remind me he was in control. The pleasure was overwhelming. My face was pressed into the softness of the pillow, one hand clutching the pillowcase, the other buried beneath it. The sound of our bodies meeting filled the room, layering more heat between our naked skin and the craving for a physical pleasure that somehow calmed the soul.

I tightened around him, moaning loudly as his fingers moved to my clit again, adding an electric edge to the sensation.

“Come for me, baby, come” he whispered through ragged breaths, keeping the same intense rhythm, his circles on my sensitive bud pushing me closer to the edge. His other hand found mine, intertwining our fingers, still gripping the pillowcase.

I felt my legs tense, breath caught in my throat, and the knot of orgasm unraveled, taking me over in seconds. I closed my eyes and let the wave crash over me, breathless, as Joost continued his movement until he followed, spilling into the condom, giving his last thrusts meaningless, still clutching my hand like it was the only anchor he had.

He covered me in kisses and caresses, the urgency of sex now wrapped in the softness of intimacy.

“Of course I did. I remember everything you tell me.”

That sentence echoed in my head for days. It was etched into my heart, engraved in my memory. He was taking me to one of his concerts because he had read between the lines of my words. He was taking me to his show, and all our friends would finally see the kind of bond that held us together.

We had done everything in secret without even meaning to. It wasn’t about hiding, we had just kept things private.

It wasn’t supposed to be more than sex.

Supposed to, because whether I liked it or not, I felt it that day.

Something romantic was growing. I was becoming more aware of the bond forming between us, strengthening with each passing day.

I saw it in his eyes. I saw it in his smile. I felt it every time we were together, heard it in the whispered words, in the how are you? he’d send me throughout the day.

The fear was slowly slipping away. I was starting to let go, to trust him more and more.

-You’re moving forward. Letting yourself be led by the depth of the passion that binds you… isn’t that what love is?-

And finally, the day of the concert arrived. A day that was meant to be the most beautiful of all, the fullest, the most emotional. I would finally see him perform, I’d see him on stage, full of life. I would be there for him.

A day that was meant to mark the beginning of something deeper.

But happiness crumbled all at once. Reality hit me in the face, suddenly. My eyes saw what they shouldn’t have seen, not during that time, not on that day, not in that moment.

Not in those fragile, delicate moments.

It was the morning of that fateful day, a quiet and strangely peaceful Saturday.

There was something in the air, tranquility tainted by the joy of being part of such an important event for Joost. I had decided to go for a walk, planning to stop by the supermarket and grab something quick for lunch with him. After that, we’d leave together. We’d go together. I’d be with him all day.

But everything changed when I found myself walking down the aisles of that supermarket, torn between which instant ramen to get, trying to remember the favorite of the guy with whom I had, more than once, shared that simple meal.

I turned my head slightly.

Maybe it was an involuntary movement.

Maybe deep down I knew I was about to ruin that day for myself.

Or maybe it was just pure coincidence that led me to do it.

But I saw him.

I saw my ex-boyfriend standing right there, next to me, mirroring my action, holding two different packs of ramen. Probably to share with his new girlfriend.

My shoulders tensed, and without realizing it, I tightened my grip. I stood there, staring at his body, leaning casually on his right leg, his face caught in some sort of indecisive thought… And just his presence, so coincidental, so close, froze me.

My knees started to tremble. I could feel my heart pumping faster, sending blood coursing through my body. My mind was completely fogged.

I was so disappointed, so angry, and so sad that I got swept away by the confusion that took over my thoughts.

And it all got worse when our eyes met, when I saw the surprised look on his face. And then, that smile.

That damn smile I used to be so in love with, so lost in…

And for a moment, I was almost afraid of it.

“Hi, y/n.” Hearing his voice again didn’t do me any good, not at all. It caused a painful tightness in the middle of my chest.

My breath caught in my throat.

Every muscle in my body tensed.

He stepped closer, and I forced a weak smile.

“Hi” I answered coldly, shifting my gaze back to the ramen that had now taken on the role of distraction puppets, something, anything to keep my mind off his presence.

-Is your heart beating fast for him too?-

“It’s been a while since we, uh… saw each other” he continued, his tone almost regretful, dripping with guilt. In three years, I had never heard him sound like that.

“Yeah” I replied, lifting my gaze again, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw how he was looking at me.

“I never really got the chance to apologize… for how I ended things.”

-Why was he telling me this? Why now?-

“It’s fine. I guess our paths were just meant to part” I replied simply, feeling the tension in my shoulders release just a little.

But… he had made the effort to say sorry.

Maybe…

“How are you? You look good.”

He slipped into my thoughts just like he used to. I smiled at that memory, nodded slightly, and let out a sigh I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“I’m good. And you?” It came out naturally, as if some part of me still wanted to know. And that scared me.

-You should hate him for how he treated you.-

We talked for maybe ten minutes. The most adrenaline-filled, fastest ten minutes of my life. Ten minutes that ruined my day, and the days that followed.

He said he’d like to see me again, to “talk things through, over a cup of tea.”

But would that really solve anything?

Was my racing heart just a reflex?

Or was I still caught up in him?

Did his presence matter as much as Joost’s?

-Did Joost matter as much as him?-

That question, that thought, those words, they haunted me the entire day. They made me distant, stuck in my head, detached from reality, drowning in guilt. Every time Joost reached for my hand, for my gaze, tried to read what was going on inside me. Every time he sought even the smallest touch, I felt myself sink deeper into the dark pit of guilt.

I could see it in his eyes, he wanted to talk to me.

He wanted to ask what was wrong.

But he didn’t have the mental space for it, not on that day, not like that. His face showed worry, but I gave him no room to ask. If he had asked too much, my guilt would’ve broken me, I would’ve cried. And that would’ve made things worse.

That day was his.

And I ruined it.

I ruined everything because of my mood.

I was finally backstage with all our friends, Joost’s team, and Joost himself, who was getting ready for the concert. I held a plastic cup with something alcoholic in it. The atmosphere was buzzing: nervous energy, joy, laughter, light teasing.

It would’ve been warm, welcoming… if I weren’t drowning in this internal mess. I lifted my gaze and looked at Joost from afar. He was laughing with a mutual friend, probably at some joke they’d shared. I heard his laughter from across the room and my expression softened.

A wave of pain hit my stomach, only slightly dulled by the sparkling liquid I swallowed.

-Why am I acting like this?-

My eyes dropped to the dark floor. My thoughts were clouded with images of both men.

I shouldn’t have been thinking about my ex, but how could I not?

“You sure you’re okay?” Joost’s voice startled me, a mix of concern and warmth. I met his gaze and smiled, but he didn’t smile back.

This time, he saw through me.

He knew I was lying.

“Yeah, hey, don’t worry about me.” I said, placing a hand on his arm, squeezing his shoulder, trying to stay close.

“I know something’s off. You’re not having fun? You don’t feel comfortable?” He asked again, clearly worried but I detected a flicker of irritation in his tone.

I couldn’t tell him what had happened that morning.

Not then.

That would’ve been cruel.

“Joost, really- don’t worry… I’m fine” I insisted, brushing my lips gently against his cheek and giving his shoulder another caress. He forced a smile. Pretended to believe me.

But the tension between us was unbearable.

When he came back to me after the concert, he was buzzing with energy, his white tank top soaked in sweat, face flushed, hair tousled. He couldn’t wait to hold me.

I saw it in his excitement, the adrenaline coursing through him. Everyone congratulated him, but I stood aside… feeling like I didn’t belong in that explosive moment of joy.

And as he came toward me, all I could think was that I can’t handle this. His energy, his light, it’s too much for someone like me.

-I have to talk to my ex. I need to know what he wants to clarify.-

That thought, beating in my head since the morning, was shattered in one instant. Joost cupped my face and pressed his lips to mine.

Time froze.

I tasted his freshness, felt his heart beating against my lips, his breath caught in the branches of his lungs, his hands holding my face so close. I kissed him back. But the weight of the moment broke me.

Everyone had seen us. And instead of feeling enchanted… I felt horrified.

Terrified.

Tears welled in my eyes. I gripped his wrists and when I pulled away, I couldn’t even look at him.

It felt like I had betrayed him.

“Hey…” His soft, breathless voice wrapped around me like a thread. He gently moved, trying to lift my face toward his. The tears slipped down freely.

I bit my bottom lip and shook my head, overwhelmed by shame.

“Please, talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.” His pleading made it painfully clear I was the problem. I was the one hurting this still-forming relationship.

Maybe it wasn’t even going to form at all.

I held back sobs, eyes shut tightly.

I felt so small in front of him.

“This morning, I saw him… and I don’t know if I’m ready to move on.”

I confessed. I didn’t even have the strength to look at him.

I had ruined everything.

Me and my insecurities had ruined it all.

And I didn’t want to ruin Joost.

That pure soul didn’t deserve it.

[silentnights-stuff]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Author’s Note:

Hey guys! I’m finally back—exams are over, and wow, the past few weeks have been absolutely hectic. I was buried under books, deadlines, and way too much stress, but somehow I survived it all. Honestly, it took everything in me not to open my laptop and dive back into writing because I missed it (and you all!) so much.

But now that I’m free, I couldn’t wait a second longer to jump back into the story. So here it is—the next part, fresh out of my post-exam brain. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for being patient and sticking around!

⌗ Across the Fence𓂃 ࣪˖ ᥫ᭡.

Pedri gonzalez × fem!reader

Part- 3

Masterlist

Content Warning: alcohol consumption, strong language, chaotic drunken behaviour, emotional breakdowns, Pedri trying (and failing) to keep it together, Gavi being the designated sarcastic third wheel, emotional vulnerability, romantic tension.

Word Count: 6620

Tagged: @moonvr — let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list!

Note: Here’s a playlist of songs that inspired me while writing these. If you’re diving into part 3, start the playlist with Ain’t My Fault by Zara Larsson.

The moment the car stopped in front of the house, Pedri was out before anyone else could react. He barely registered the cool night air or the muffled bass of the music vibrating through the walls. His only thought was her.

The house was packed, bodies moving in every direction, but it didn’t matter. Pedri pushed through without hesitation, barely sparing a glance at anyone in his way. He will deal with Gavi and Cubarsí tomorrow right now, Gabi was all he cared about.

And then he saw her.

She was in the centre of the room, completely lost in the music. The dim lights flickered across her skin like fireflies, and the way she moved effortlessly, free, glowing, it was like the world itself was dancing with her.

Sofía twirled her, and Gabi let out a bright laugh, head tipping back as her hair fanned around her. Every move was instinctive, like the beat was flowing into her veins. Cubarsí, Marc, Ferran, Fermín, Jules, and Gavi stood around them, not just dancing, but protecting them—forming an invisible barrier so no one could get too close.

Pedri stopped for a second, breath caught in his throat.

She was enchanting. The way her body swayed, the way her eyes sparkled, the way her laughter melted with the melody, she was a sight he could never look away from.

For the first time in his life, Pedri thought maybe alcohol wasn’t such a bad thing.

He took a step forward, weaving through the crowd. Just as he reached her, she turned, her hair smacking him lightly in the face. He barely reacted. His hand instinctively found her shoulder, turning her toward him.

And then she saw him.

Her face lit up like she was the moon in his night sky.

Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, locking her fingers together behind him. “Where were you?” she pouted. “I was so disappointed not to see you.”

Pedri exhaled, his hands resting at her waist. “I’m sorry, Hamster. I wasn’t here, I went out to buy some booze.”

Gabi blinked, processing that information. “Oh.” Then, without missing a beat, she grabbed his hand, dragging him to dance with her.

Pedri let her. His grip on her waist tightened as they moved together, bodies swaying in sync with the music.

He leaned in slightly. “Are you having fun?”

“Yup, it’s really exciting to be here! I’m loving it!” Gabi exclaimed, swaying happily to the music. Then she paused, squinting up at Pedri with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Buuuut… you won’t be mad at me if I tell you a little secret, right?”

Pedri couldn’t stop looking at her. There was something so innocent about her in this moment, despite the absolute chaos she caused. He could pretend to be mad, but it would be a miserable attempt.

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Gabi, you know you can tell me anything. You’re the last person on earth I’d ever get mad at.” His voice softened. “Go ahead, love.”

Gabi gasped dramatically, clutching onto his black Valentino bomber jacket like he was her lifeline. Then she pulled herself up, so close he could feel her breath against his skin as she whispered in his ear.

“You know…” she giggled, gripping him tighter, “I drank half a bottle of Absolut.” She pulled back, wide-eyed. “But you don’t get to tell anyone.”

Pedri was struggling. Not because of what she said honestly, that was expected but because of the way she had leaned in, her lips grazing his ear, sending goosebumps down his entire body. And as if that wasn’t enough to destroy him, the next thing he knew—

Soft lips pressed against his cheek.

Gabi kissed him.

Pedri froze. Completely starstruck, his mind short-circuiting while she just… casually pulled away, completely unaware of the damage she just caused.

And then, as if she hadn’t just ruined him, she grinned. “Heard you bought more vodka! I’m gonna go get some!”

And just like that, before Pedri could even react, she disappeared into the crowd, vanishing into the neon lights and smoke like she was never even there.

Pedri stood there, absolutely shell-shocked, his cheek still tingling from where Gabi had kissed him. The bass of the music vibrated through the floor, and people moved around him, but he felt nothing. Heard nothing.

Because what the hell just happened?

One second, she was whispering in his ear, driving him insane, and the next—she kissed him, dropped a bomb about drinking half a bottle of vodka, and then vanished into the party like some kind of drunken magician.

Absolutely not.

There was no way he was letting her disappear into this chaos when she was already drunk out of her mind.

His chest felt tight as his eyes swept across the crowded room, his pulse pounding in his ears. The flashing neon lights did nothing to help colours blurring, people shifting—but then, finally, he spotted her.

By the drinks table.

Gabi stood there, staring at a bottle of vodka as if she were mentally trying to get it to open by itself. Her brows furrowed in deep concentration, lips pursed slightly, fingers hovering near the cap—but she wasn’t actually touching it.

Pedri exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

For fuck’s sake.

Without another thought, he moved, cutting through the crowd with practised ease, zeroing in on her like a man on a mission.

Just as Gabi finally reached for the bottle, Pedri snatched it away.

"Nope."

A dramatic gasp.

Gabi spun around, offended, as he had just stolen her firstborn child.

“Hey!” she cried, eyes wide. “Thass mine!”

Pedri raised an eyebrow. “Yours?”

“Yes,” she huffed, crossing her arms. Or, well—trying to. Her movements were loose and uncoordinated as if even her own body wasn’t sure what it was doing. “I claimed it.”

Pedri let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, did you?”

“Yes.” She nodded so seriously like she was delivering a royal declaration. Then, she poked his chest, her finger pressing against the fabric of his hoodie with great effort. “And you, sir, are stealing.”

Pedri leaned down slightly, levelling her with a look. “Gabi, you’ve already had half a bottle. I think that’s enough for one night, don’t you?”

She squinted up at him. “Pedri, sweetheart, my love—”

Oh, fuck.

He was in trouble.

“—I’m not even drunk.”

Pedri just stared at her. “Oh? You’re not?”

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ dramatically, swaying slightly. “M’ perfectly fine.”

Pedri tilted his head, amusement creeping into his voice. “Then what’s seven times eight?”

Gabi gasped.

Her entire body stiffened, eyes going huge with genuine betrayal.

She staggered back a step, clutching her chest as if he had just stabbed her.

“How dare you?” she whispered, voice full of pure devastation.

Pedri bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a laugh.

Her lips parted, her expression twisting into something dramatic as she looked at him like he was some traitorous villain. “What kind of best friend tests his friends like that?”

Pedri exhaled sharply. “Gabi—”

“Math, Pedri?” She pointed a finger at him, stumbling slightly as she stepped closer. “You would really do that to me?”

“I can’t believe this.” She threw her hands up, completely ignoring the way she almost smacked someone passing by. “I thought we had trust!”

Gabi gasped, her eyes going comically wide as she swayed on her feet, pointing an accusing finger at Pedri. “You—” she hiccuped, brows furrowing in intense concentration, “—are no fun.”

Pedri let out a slow breath, his grip tightening on the vodka bottle as she made yet another attempt to grab it. Her fingers barely grazed the glass before he pulled it further away, holding it above her reach like she was some kind of feral child.

“Gabi,” he said, voice laced with exhaustion, “you’re drunk.”

“No, you’re drunk,” she snapped back without thinking, blinking up at him like she had just delivered the perfect comeback.

Pedri raised an eyebrow. “I don’t drink.”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up like she had just proven some groundbreaking theory. “How would you even know what too drunk is, huh? HUH, PEDRO?”

Pedri closed his eyes for a brief second. Deep breaths. Patience.

“That’s not my name.”

“Yes, it is,” she huffed, swaying slightly as she reached for the bottle again. “And I—” another hiccup, “—demand you return what is rightfully mine.”

Pedri leaned back, holding the bottle further out of her reach. “Not happening, Hamster.”

“PEDRI,” she whined, stomping her foot like a frustrated child. “Give. Me. The. Vodka.”

He looked at her flatly. “No.”

“Why are you like this?” she groaned, throwing her hands up dramatically. “Who made you this boring?”

“I’m not boring,” he said with a sigh. “I’m just responsible.”

Gabi let out a loud, exaggerated scoff. “That’s literally the same thing.”

Pedri rubbed a hand down his face. “Gabi—”

She suddenly gasped, stumbling forward as she gripped his hoodie like she had just discovered the biggest scandal of the century.

“Oh my God.”

Pedri tensed. “What now?”

“YOU JUST LOVE CONTROLLING ME, DON’T YOU?”

Pedri blinked. “What?”

Gabi nodded aggressively, wobbling in place. “First, you tell me not to drink—”

“Because you had half a bottle—”

“Then, you tell me what to do—”

“Because you tried to climb the kitchen counter—”

“And now, you’re stealing from me.” She gasped, stepping back like she had just uncovered some grand betrayal. “You’re a thief, Pedri!”

Pedri let out a slow, tired exhale. “I swear to God, Gabi—”

“LET GO OF MY BOTTLE RIGHT FUCKING NOW, PEDRO!”

And that was it.

That was his final straw.

Pedri moved before she could react, grabbing her by the waist and effortlessly flipping her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

A shriek.

A loud one.

“PEDRI, PUT ME DOWN, YOU TRAITOR!”

“Nope.”

“YOU CAN’T JUST KIDNAP ME!”

“I literally can.”

“THIS IS ILLEGAL!”

Pedri barely spared her a glance as he adjusted his grip, making sure she wouldn’t slip. “Sue me.”

“I WILL!”

“No, you won’t.”

Gabi huffed dramatically, her arms crossed even though she was dangling upside down. “I hate you.”

Pedri smirked, making his way toward the stairs. “No, you don’t.”

“...I do.”

“Sure, Hamster.”

“You are officially my enemy.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“I’m never talking to you again.”

Pedri let out a breathy chuckle. “Can’t wait for that.”

Gabi gasped, smacking his back. “PEDRI!”

Pedri just shook his head, grinning as he carried her up the stairs, her drunken protests echoing through the hallway.

This girl.

She was actually going to be the death of him.

But somehow?

He didn’t even mind.

─────────────────────────────────　

Pedri struggled to bring Gabi to the room, her manic outburst making it nearly impossible to keep a steady grip. She might have just completed the Vulgarity Dictionary, her words flying from her mouth in an unfiltered, rapid succession of languages and accents, so fast that Pedri could barely keep up. But despite her chaotic tirade, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride. She was saying these to him, and no one else.

That thought alone made him feel oddly special. If she were giving anyone else this much of her attention, he’d be burning with jealousy. But this? This was his time. If she wanted to shout at him, he’d be on the ground, letting her walk all over him, and he’d accept it gladly. After all, no one else would get the privilege of being in her chaotic presence like he did.

As they climbed the stairs, Gabi's failing limbs only grew more frantic, each shout and complaint louder than the last. People passing by shot Pedri confused looks, some trying to stifle their laughter, while others who knew him offered pats on the back or casual greetings. One or two even acknowledged Gabi, despite her being upside down in his grip.

"Oi, Pedri! You need help with that gremlin?" one of his friends called out, laughter in his voice.

"No, I got it. Barely," Pedri grunted, adjusting his hold as Gabi smacked his back with surprising force.

"Let me go, you absolute tyrant!" Gabi shrieked, twisting in his arms, her voice high-pitched with frustration. "You are violating my rights!"

"And you are violating everyone’s peace, hamster," Pedri replied, dodging her flailing legs with practised ease.

Another passerby chuckled, shaking his head. "She’s got a lot of fight in her, huh?"

"You have no idea," Pedri muttered, his grip on her tightening as she suddenly went limp, like a dead weight over his shoulder.

"If I go limp, you’ll have to drop me," she announced smugly, her voice dripping with mockery.

Pedri rolled his eyes. "No, I’ll just carry you like a sack of potatoes instead."

"I hate you!" Gabi whined, smacking his back again. "And I hate stairs! And I hate—ugh!—this stupid world!" Her voice became more theatrical as she added, "Help me! I’m being kidnapped!"

Raphinha, one of Pedri’s teammates, leaned casually against the railing, his smirk widening at the scene unfolding. "Good luck, hermano. She looks feisty tonight."

"Feisty is an understatement," Pedri muttered, barely suppressing a grin as Gabi’s bilingual barrage continued. She was going on and on, switching from Korean to Spanish to Filipino in rapid succession, the energy from her words only fueling Pedri’s amused patience.

By the time they reached the room, Pedri felt like he had just wrestled a hurricane. Gabi’s ranting had left him mentally exhausted, but the thought of her being here with him kept him grounded. She may have been a handful, but at least she was his handful.

Pedri walked into the hallway, his arms straining under the weight of Gabi as he tried to balance her over his shoulder. She was still grumbling, her protests muffled but persistent, a constant stream of complaints escaping her lips. His hand fumbled for the key in his pocket, the cold metal brushing against his fingers. He twisted it with more force than necessary, the sharp click of the lock echoing in the quiet hallway as the door finally gave way.

He took a deep breath, his grip tightening on Gabi as she squirmed in his hold. "Hold still, Gabi," he muttered under his breath, his voice strained but with a hint of amusement. "We’re almost there."

“Yeah, almost there to my doom,” Gabi shot back sarcastically, her voice muffled from where her face was pressed against his back. “Just drop me already. It’s not like I’m going anywhere."

Pedri let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he twisted the door handle. "You think I’d actually do that?" He stepped inside, the door swinging open with a soft creak, revealing the dimly lit room. "We’ve locked most of the second-floor doors for safety reasons," he added, the words slipping out almost mechanically as if he had repeated them a hundred times before. It was true—no one wanted to risk damage, but right now, he was just focused on getting her inside.

Inside, the room was simple—nothing extravagant. A bed sat in the centre, surrounded by soft, dim lighting that bathed the space in a warm glow. The walls were adorned with a few paintings, each one capturing a moment frozen in time and to the side, a bathroom door stood discreetly, completing the serene atmosphere.

"Okay, you're officially inside," Pedri said, carefully lowering her off his shoulder and setting her down on the bed with careful precision, even though Gabi flopped onto it dramatically as soon as her feet touched the mattress.. "Now, you can either lie there and keep complaining, or you can actually try to relax."

“Relax?” Gabi scoffed, rolling her eyes as she straightened herself up. “I’ve been carried like a ragdoll, practically suffocated by your shoulder, and you want me to relax? Do you have any idea how—ugh, forget it,” she muttered, throwing herself onto the bed with a dramatic flop. “I swear, Pedri, you’re the worst."

Pedri chuckled, standing at the edge of the bed, watching her with a soft smile. "Hey, at least I didn’t drop you on the floor. You should be thanking me."

Gabi raised an eyebrow, giving him a mockingly unimpressed look. "Oh, the horrors of being carried like a princess. Truly, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude."

He shook his head, rolling his eyes affectionately as he ran a hand through his hair. "You're welcome, Gabi. Anytime."

She groaned, rubbing her head. "You are the worst! I was having fun! But nooo, Pedri has to be the responsible one."

Pedri smirked, crossing his arms. "Now, love, where were we? Oh, right. You called me ‘motherfucker’ in Korean, didn’t you?" He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Don’t forget, missy—I sat beside you while you watched those Korean dramas. I do know what ‘gaejasig-a’ means. Better luck next time."

Gabi shot up, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Walang hiya ka! I hate you!"

Pedri blinked. "Okay, now we’re in Filipino. Are you just cycling through languages to confuse me?"

"I was having fun, Pedri! But you just had to stick your nose in other people’s business!" she huffed, kicking her feet against the mattress.

Pedri raised an eyebrow. "Your business is my business, hamster."

“There you go again!” She clenched her fists. "Always acting like you know everything! Always treating me like some reckless idiot! Maybe I just wanted to let loose for once! Maybe I didn’t need you hovering over me like some—some helicopter parent!"

Pedri frowned, his amusement fading. "Is that really what you think? That I just enjoy controlling you? Gabi, I was just looking out for you. You were barely standing upright when I found you."

"I don’t need you to save me!" she shot back, but her voice wavered.

Pedri sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had seen Gabi get worked up before, but something about this felt different. Her frustration ran deeper than a ruined night.

He knelt down, lowering himself to her level, and gently reached for her hands. His touch was soft, his thumb gliding over her knuckles in soothing strokes.

“Is something bothering you?” His voice was low, steady, filled with concern.

Gabi dropped her gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. She was trying to hold it together, but Pedri had already found the cracks in her armour.

“Hamster, can you look at me, please?” he urged gently.

That was all it took. The floodgates broke. The tears she had been fighting against for hours finally spilt over. The first one rolled down her cheek, silent and unrelenting, landing on Pedri’s hand. Then another. And another. Until she was trembling, her breath coming out in shaky, uneven gasps.

Pedri’s heart clenched at the sight. Without a second thought, he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear before pulling her into his arms.

“I got you,” he murmured, his voice steady, his hold firm.

Gabi buried her face in his shoulder, gripping his shirt tightly as her sobs wracked through her small frame. "It’s not fair, Pedri!" she choked out. "Everyone else gets to have fun, to live their lives, and I’m just—stuck! Stuck with assignments, stuck with responsibilities, stuck being the person who always has to do the right thing! They have the same work as me and the same deadlines, but somehow, they still get to enjoy themselves. Why can’t I? Why am I always the one missing out?"

Pedri’s hold on her tightened, his heart aching at the weight of her words. "Gabi…"

"No!" she interrupted, shaking her head against his chest. "And you know what’s worse? It’s my fault! I do this to myself! Every time someone tries to pull me out of my comfort zone, I push them away. Even you. You try so hard, and most of the time, I shut you out. I don’t know why I do it—I just... I’m scared, Pedri. I’m scared of change, but I’m also scared of actually letting myself live."

“It’s okay, Gabi. I’m here for you, no matter what,” Pedri whispered, his voice steady yet tender as he held her trembling frame close. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt, gripping it like a lifeline. He could feel the shuddering breaths she took against his chest, her body both rigid and fragile in his arms.

“Cry until there are no tears left, scream until your voice gives out. Break whatever you need to—I’ll fix it. If you need to hit someone, hit me. Or better yet, I’ll get you a stuffed toy so you can take it all out on that. Do whatever you want. Drink until you pass out if you have to—I’ll carry you home. Just don’t hate yourself, okay? Are we clear?”

Gabi nodded, her lashes clumped together from the endless tears. Her breath hitched as she rested against his chest, gripping his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. Pedri looked down at her, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her damp face. “It’s okay to cry,” he murmured, his warmth wrapping around her like a shield. “We can stay like this as long as you need, but I think you could use some water after all that, hmm?”

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he unlocked it with a quick glance, his thumb moving effortlessly through his contacts. He tapped on Gavi’s name and brought the phone to his ear. The ringing stretched on until, finally, Gavi picked up on the tenth ring.

“Hello, my love! What can I do for you?” came the familiar teasing voice on the other end.

Pedri sighed, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, bro. Can you bring a bottle of water to the guest room? Third one on the second floor.”

“Yeah, anything for you, my love. If you want my blood, I’ll bring that too.”

A breathy chuckle escaped Pedri. “Nope, just water, thanks. Love ya.”

As he ended the call and set his phone aside, his attention returned to Gabi. “He’s on his way. Until then, tell me—what do you want to do? You said you wanted to have fun like everyone else. Whatever it is, hamster, I’m up for it. Want me to kill someone or what?”

Gabi, still curled against him, lifted her head, her lips curving into a weak smile despite the tear tracks on her cheeks. “You know, Pedri, you’re the best. The absolute best. I’m never leaving your dumbass.”

Pedri smirked, his voice a playful murmur. “You can’t. Even if you wanted to, I wouldn’t let you.”

Gabi rolled her eyes, playfully shoving him. “You’re some different kind of asshole, aren’t you?”

Before Pedri could reply, a soft knock echoed through the room. Gabi tilted her head, amusement flickering in her tired eyes. “That must be our angry bird.”

“Yup, my boyfriend’s here,” Pedri quipped, reluctantly detaching himself from her warmth as he strode toward the door. He twisted the knob, revealing Gavi standing there dramatically, eyes squeezed shut as if preparing for something scandalous. One hand covered his face while the other clutched a fresh bottle of water.

“You guys are in a decent state, right?” Gavi asked, cracking one eye open suspiciously.

Pedri huffed and smacked the back of his head. “Stop talking nonsense. Come in if you want.”

Gavi grinned, winking at Gabi as he stepped inside. He strutted forward with exaggerated confidence, puffing out his chest. “If I get to see that lovely lady on the bed, I can come anywhere. What do you say, Gabi? I’m way better than all the guys downstairs. Even Pedri could learn a thing or two from me. So, my love, do you want to be mine?” He made his way to the bed, dramatically grasping her hand and pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

Gabi smirked. “Of course, I’ll marry you—when every other man on this planet vanishes.”

Gavi turned to Pedri triumphantly. “See? She’s already considering marrying me.”

Pedri rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. After I cut your balls off.”

Settling back onto the bed, he twisted the cap off the water bottle, the seal cracking as he handed it to Gabi. Just as she reached for it, her expression suddenly shifted. Her body tensed, her stomach visibly clenching as realization dawned on her. In an instant, she shot up from the bed and bolted toward the bathroom, flinging the door open with a bang before collapsing in front of the toilet, retching violently.

Pedri was at her side in seconds, his hand running up and down her back in soothing strokes. “It’s okay, just let it out,” he murmured. “It’ll help get the alcohol out of your system.”

Gavi leaned against the bathroom doorway, arms crossed as he smirked. “So, another bottle of Absolut, then? Since the first one didn’t stay down?”

Gabi groaned between heaves. “Never drinking again.”

Gavi snorted. “That’s what they all say. But I think you need more than just water right now—maybe some juice or something. I’ll go grab it.”

Still kneeling beside the toilet, Gabi lifted her head weakly, her glassy eyes finding Gavi’s figure in the doorway. Her voice wavered, thick with exhaustion. “You know… I love you both.”

Then, without warning, another wave of nausea hit, and she ducked her head back down. Pedri chuckled while Gavi, ever the dramatist, spun on his heel. “I love you too, bitch! Write it down!” he called as he left.

Pedri stayed beside her, his hand never leaving her back. Gabi’s chest ached, not just from throwing up, but from the overwhelming warmth settling inside her. How did she get so lucky to have them?

“I think I like drunk Gabi the best,” Pedri mused, smirking as he pulled her hair back gently.

Gavi returned a few minutes later, his arms filled with five bottles of water. “Alright, I came back, but I saw a cute girl downstairs. And listen, I care about Gabi, truly, but getting her number is more important.”

Pedri rolled his eyes, taking two bottles from him. “You’re a disaster.”

Despite her miserable state, Gabi let out a weak giggle. Gavi pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Listen, if you ever need a drinking partner, I’ll gladly be yours. Pedri, on the other hand, is dry as fuck.”

Pedri scoffed. “You’re both a pain in my ass.”

Gabi sat on the cold bathroom tiles, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glassy, and her breathing uneven from the whole ordeal.

Still, he made sure she drank two full bottles of water, grumbling about not wanting to explain to their mothers why she looked dehydrated as hell.

Pedri had crouched beside her, holding out a bottle of water and gently tucking her hair behind her ears.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was comforting, like a blanket they both knew how to share.

“You alright now?” he asked softly, his voice low.

“Yeah,” she said hoarsely, taking a sip of water. “God, that was disgusting.”

Pedri gave her a small grin. “You’ve done grosser things.”

Gabi chuckled, weak but genuine. “Like the time we stuck glue to Cubarsí’s hat during that summer campaigning trip?”

“Oh my God,” Pedri laughed, eyes lighting up. “He had to shave his head. He looked like a boiled egg.”

“He was so pissed,” Gabi said, a smile spreading across her lips. “He chased Gavi with a mop around the whole camp. And then we got punished instead of him.”

“Cleaning the dining hall for a week,” Pedri recalled. “And Gavi somehow made it worse by breaking the mop handle trying to ‘fence’ with it.”

“That dumbass said he was training for the Olympics.”

Their laughter echoed slightly off the tile walls. Gabi leaned her head back, a bit more at ease now. “God, we were such little disasters.”

They both laughed, heads tilted back against the wall. The memory was so vivid it almost felt like they were there again—sweaty summer air, Cubarsí’s furious shouts, and the smell of dried glue in the cabin.

“And eighth grade,” Gabi continued, her smile turning mischievous. “When Sofía told Gavi he wasn’t strong enough to fight her.”

Pedri winced. “I’ll never forget his face when she kicked him. Dead center.”

“He fell like a sack of bricks. I thought he fainted.”

“He squeaked, Gabi. He actually squeaked.”

They both burst out laughing again, tears forming in the corners of Gabi’s eyes now—not from throwing up this time, but from laughing too hard.

“I remember Sofía standing over him and saying, ‘Told you so,’ like a queen.”

“She is a queen,” Pedri agreed, grinning. “I still don’t know if I’m scared of her or in love with her.”

“Both,” Gabi said with a smirk.

They laughed harder this time, both remembering how dramatic Gavi had made the whole situation, even limping for a few days afterward just for attention.

“And to think,” Gabi said through giggles, “Sofía used to roast Cubarsí like it was her job. Sarcasm was literally their shared love language of hatred.”

“Right?” Pedri said. “They couldn’t go two minutes without calling each other names. And now they’re dating.”

“I still don’t understand how that happened.”

“One minute she was calling him a ‘wannabe philosopher with zero emotional depth’ and the next she was holding his hand at that music fest like it was nothing.”

Gabi smirked. “Love is weird.”

“Weirder when it’s Sofía and Cubarsí.”

They sat in comfortable silence again, until Pedri added with a thoughtful grin, “And Gavi. Who would've thought he’d become the school’s ‘Prince Charming’?”

Gabi snorted. “He used to try and fight everyone. He still does.”

“He once challenged the vending machine.”

“And he’s still the loudest in every hallway.”

“But somehow the girls love it,” Pedri said, shaking his head in disbelief. “He smiles once, and half the class is writing his name on their notebooks.”

Gabi rolled her eyes fondly. “He’s got that golden retriever energy.”

“He’s literally the same hyperactive kid we grew up with, just... taller. And more dramatic.”

Pedri bumped his shoulder against hers. “And then there were the rooftop days. Our secret hideout.”

Gabi’s expression softened. “We used to skip class and just lie there with our legs stretched out under the sun.”

“Listening to those awful playlists Gavi made,” Pedri added. “He thought he had elite music taste.”

“He played Cotton Eye Joe on loop once. I almost jumped.”

“And we’d just talk crap about each other, make dumb bets. You lost that one where you had to wear two left shoes for a day.”

Gabi rolled her eyes. “And you walked around with glitter on your face like a fairy for three.”

“I didn’t even try to wash it off. It looked kinda good on me.”

She smiled at him then, and for a moment, everything else faded. No sickness, no drama—just this quiet little bubble of memory, wrapped around them like warmth.

“We really grew up together, didn’t we?” Gabi whispered. “From sneaking snacks at the park to climbing trees and arguing over who’d marry Cubarsí first—”

Pedri groaned. “I was eight and Gavi said Cubarsí looked like a prince in that stupid blazer.”

“And now we’re in high school,” she murmured. “Dealing with heartbreaks and pressure and... puking in bathrooms.”

He turned his head to look at her. “But we’re still us.”

“Yeah,” Gabi said, resting her head against his shoulder. “Still stupid. Still laughing. Still here.”

There was a pause. A soft breath between them

“You think we’ll still be like this years from now?” she asked quietly.

Pedri smiled. “If we can survive Sofía’s roundhouse kick and Gavi’s playlist, we can survive anything.”

Gabi laughed, eyes closing for a moment as she let the comfort sink in.

And in the middle of that cold bathroom, surrounded by old memories and a thousand echoes of their younger selves, they sat side by side—tangled in laughter, friendship, and a bond stitched together by chaos, courage, and an unspoken promise to never forget who they were, and who they are still becoming.

Pedri's lips curled into a soft, almost instinctive smile as his gaze lingered on Gabi. There was a warmth in his eyes—a quiet, unspoken affection he didn’t even try to hide anymore, not when it came to her. The sound of her laugh, laced with remnants of tears, felt like a melody meant just for him—sweet, familiar, and haunting most beautifully. He could play it on repeat forever and never get tired of it.

And her eyes… those star-lit eyes still shimmered, even after everything. Her face was puffy, cheeks stained with the evidence of emotion she couldn’t hold in—but to him, she had never looked more breathtaking. There was something about the way her vulnerability sat on her skin so unfiltered, so unguarded. She wasn’t trying to be perfect, and that was what made her perfect to him.

People would probably call him foolish—maybe even obsessed—for thinking she looked this beautiful while crying. But they didn’t see her the way he did. They didn’t know how magnetic she was when she let her walls fall. To Pedri, Gabi wasn’t just beautiful—she was everything. In this fragile, real moment, she was more than a muse, more than a crush. She was the kind of beautiful that didn’t fade under harsh lights or tired eyes. The kind that made him want to give up everything, even the thing he loved most—football—just to hold onto this feeling.

In that moment, Gabi wasn’t just his childhood best friend or a memory wrapped in laughter and late-night talks—she was everything. Everything he’d ever wanted. More than football, more than the trophies and roaring crowds. She was his calm, his chaos, his favourite kind of beauty. And all he could think about was how badly he wanted to make her his—not in passing, not just for a fleeting night—but fully, deeply, forever. He wanted to hold this moment between them and turn it into something permanent.

And for a second, it felt possible. Like maybe if he reached out, she’d meet him halfway.

But then came the fear. The kind that sank its claws deep into his chest. Fear of ruining what they already had—a bond so rare, so sacred, it felt almost untouchable. Their friendship was the foundation of everything, and one wrong move could shatter it beyond repair. And the truth was… he didn’t know if she felt the same. That not-knowing was the heaviest weight of all.

But all he could do was look… because loving her out loud still felt like the scariest risk of all.

Still, he didn’t want the silence to grow too loud, so he shook off the spiral of thoughts and let a playful smile tug at his lips.

“You said you wanted to do something crazy, right?” he asked, voice a little lighter, a little braver. “Wanna go join the others downstairs?”

Gabi looked up at him then, her face still tired from the tears but glowing now with something soft and familiar—something that made his chest ache in the best way.

“Of course. Why not? I’m all in,” she said with a grin, her voice steady again. “Just let me rinse my mouth first.”

─────────────────────────────────

The music hit them the moment they opened the door. The energy downstairs was electric—bass thumping through the floor, laughter echoing off the walls, bodies moving in rhythm like the night would never end. Gabi stepped into the chaos with a soft laugh, and Pedri followed, a smile already tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Look who’s back!” Cubarsí called out, immediately spotting them. “Hope you’re feeling better, drama queen.”

Gabi groaned, shoving his arm lightly. “You’re so annoying.”

Sofía rushed over with worry written all over her face. “Gabi, are you okay now?”

“I’m fine,” Gabi said with a reassuring smile. “Promise.”

And then it began again—the music, the dancing, the laughter. The night wrapped them up like it was made for them.

Gavi was the first to drag Gabi toward the shots, grinning like a devil. “Four. Come on, I dare you.”

To everyone’s surprise, she accepted, laughing as she knocked them back one by one. Pedri leaned against the counter, sipping from a bottle of Coke, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “You’re all going to regret this tomorrow,” he teased.

“Oh shut up, Grandpa,” Ferran laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

“I’m just saying—hydration wins,” Pedri said, raising his Coke like it was a toast. “You’ll be thanking me when you’re all curled up on the floor tomorrow.”

Marc clapped him on the back. “You better carry us then, water boy.”

Then Mirándote came on, and something shifted.

Pedri wasn’t just standing on the sidelines anymore—he was right there in it. Dancing between Jules and Ferran, laughing with Marc, throwing his arm around Fermín as they jumped to the beat like kids at their first concert.

“Pedri! Spin me!” Gabi shouted over the music, holding her hands out.

He laughed, setting his Coke down and spinning her with a dramatic flair that made her giggle like crazy.

Sofía bumped into Pedri while weaving through the crowd, holding two cups.

“Still on your Coke streak?” she asked with a teasing smile.

Pedri held up his bottle with a shrug. “Somebody’s gotta stay sober enough to remember your bad dance moves.”

Sofía laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Please, I dance better than half of you footballers combined.”

Jules appeared out of nowhere, tugging him toward the makeshift DJ table. “Your turn, DJ Pedri!”

“Oh no, you don’t want that smoke,” Pedri joked, but he didn’t resist. He plugged in his phone and cued up a reggaetón mix that instantly brought more cheers from the crowd.

Gabi was right there too—hair flying, feet moving, face glowing with joy. And Pedri let himself dance. Really dance. With the music, with his friends, with the kind of ease that only came when he felt completely at home.

“Bro, I haven’t seen you smile this much in ages,” Cubarsí said, bumping shoulders with him mid-dance.

Pedri just grinned, eyes flicking to Gabi. “Guess tonight’s a good one.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Jules added with a raised eyebrow.

“Not unless you’re thinking about pizza after this,” Pedri smirked, dodging the question playfully.

But even as he laughed and danced, surrounded by his favourite people, his gaze kept drifting back to her. Gabi. Always Gabi. Not in a way that interrupted the moment—but like she was woven into it. She was his gravity, pulling him in without even trying.

This night wasn’t about holding back or thinking too much. It was about now. About feeling alive. About friendship and freedom. And Gabi—Gabi was the heart of it all.

The kind of night they’d all remember. But for Pedri, it wasn’t the music or the Coke or even the wild dancing that would stay with him.

It was Gabi’s smile in the middle of it all—and the way, for the first time in a long while, he felt completely, undeniably free.

Meanwhile, it was a night Gabi knew she would treasure forever. Not because of the music, the shots, or the laughter that echoed through the walls, but because of Pedri. If he hadn’t convinced her to come out, she would have missed out on these unforgettable moments with the people she held closest to her heart. And maybe, just maybe, that was the most unexpected—and beautiful—part of it all.

──── ୨୧ ────　

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

got a new laptop on sale yayy 😎 hopefully a zoom meeting will no longer threaten to wipe out my whole machine

[a-stars-art-blog]

I think about them too much. Exhibit Z

[lunarrolls]

i cannot fucking overstate how much i love fcg’s reasoning for helping the gods btw. they don’t want to save them because they believe in them, though they do—they want to save them because, deep down, the purpose they’ve always had, always wanted to have, is to help. he wants to save the gods because they’ve asked for his help, and in turn, he believes that they’ll be able to help more people across exandria. he believes that if he helps, the gods will pay that favor back and help others too. and i just. dear god i love that. fcg recklessly and relentlessly chooses kindness and seems to have come back even more determined to do so after their detour in wildemount and i absolutely cannot wait to see it

[ghostlycod]

“I have this scene in my head for my fic that I really love but i don’t feel like writing all of the other stuff to get to it.”

I see this comment like 5 times a day in fic writing spaces lol

a scene that you don’t want to write is a scene you don’t want to read. don’t write stuff you don’t want to read.

me, personally: wait until the scenes that get you to that first initial scene you were excited about are just as interesting as that scene too. it won’t be the first, second, or third thing you think of. if u have a scene you really want to write, write that, and keep writing only those exciting scenes that come to you. eventually you have a million interesting scenes for your fic and they become puzzle pieces for you to arrange and then eventually the strings come together and you realize you really do have an interesting way to get to that original scene, and you’re just as excited to write it, if you haven’t already written it when you were brainstorming other scenes earlier in the writing process that you didn’t even realize could carry your story like that.

[gristlegrinder]

i feel like i need some kind of tag for my demon game. tentatively considering #/spidersposting. i will force everybody to see my little criminals

[selfconsumerofmywoes]

won some money last week so splashed out on my food shop - it’s actually so nice to be able to sit and pick what i want to make rather than just scraping together whatever meal i can with what foods left in my fridge

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

a/n: this is a Kofi reward!

A daily life in the bee hybrid queen is full of surprises. Though there is a set routine and long list of things you have to get done, you still end up spending a lot of that time getting into… interesting situations.

In the morning, your loyal attendants wake you up with a hearty breakfast. Fluffy pancakes covered in fresh honey, perfectly picked fruit, and your choice of eggs and/or meat.

“My queen…” one of your attendants coo, their hands roaming over your soft form. “It’s time for a bath…”

They all buzz with anticipation, excited to see their queen completely bare. Your body is the only one their yearn to touch and see, and it is their favorite part of the day when they get to bathe you.

They undress you with a gentleness you never felt before becoming queen, kissing being pressed into your neck and shoulders. You can feel them shudder and hear their needy whines, all desperate to get you naked as soon as possible.

Once you’re in the tub, you’re joined by your attendants, some washing your body and others moving their hands to your pretty cunt.

“So pretty…”

“My queen, my love…”

“Oh, what an amazing start to the day…”

You feel several cocks rutting against your thighs and soft tummy, and soon your hips are lifted into the lap of the attendant that gets his turn with you today.

A dreamy sigh leaves your lips as you’re settled onto his cock, another bee groping your tits behind you. Your nipples are pinched and tugged on as you���re bounced on his cock, the others buzzing and pouting.

It’s not long before he cums inside, leaving you feeling warm and comfortably full. After you’re satisfied and clean, they help you out of the tub and guide you to your vanity.

Once dressed, you’re escorted through the hive by a few guards, meeting with some of the noble bees and answering the worker bee questions. You always take the time to help those you can, and right before lunch you make your way towards the medical ward.

There are multiple injured bees from your hive and others as well. You’re a kind queen, allowing them to stay and receive care. Even if they don’t decide to join the hive, you see no reason to leave a hurt bee hybrid to die.

“My queen, your lunch is ready.”

You smile, following another guard to the cafeteria. On your way, you’re stolen from the guards and fingered in a closet, the worker bee begging to fill you with his eggs.

“P-please, my queen… I was injured when my turn came up, I need you…”

And being the kind queen you are, you lift up your leg and let him fuck into your warm cunt. His wings flutter behind him, his pants and whimpers filling your ears as he fills you with his eggs.

When the guards come looking, you give a random excuse to make sure the worker bee doesn’t get in any trouble. After all, you enjoy being so loved in the hive.

You yawned as you ate lunch, rubbing at your eyes. Your attendants noticed how exhausted you are, fretting over their beloved queen.

“She needs rest, you’ve been working her all day!” one of them protests, burying his face into your neck. The others nod and crowd you, pouting at the guards and officials.

Your attendants don’t have much power, but when it comes to your well being they are taken seriously.

“No, I’m alright.”

They buzz nervously as you stand, stretching a bit. “I just get sleepy after lunch sometimes.”

Despite saying this, you are followed as you go about other duties, several guards having to prevent them from crowding you while you attend to important matters.

After dinner you’re exhausted, but you allow your attendants to dress you in delicate and expensive lingerie as you’re presented before the bee hybrid colony. Each are eager for their turn, standing or hovering in line.

You’re pinned to your bed, a fat cock stretching you out as another nudges your lips. Your hands pump two others, your entire body being used by your subjects.

The queen has to be bred, to be filled with eggs. That is your duty, to mate with your subjects and make sure they all felt appreciated and loved.

A content subject was a loyal subject. Getting to kiss, touch, and be inside of their queen made their hearts full.

When you were covered in cum and exhausted, your attendants descended upon you, pushing away any other bee hybrids and carrying you away.

They cover you in kisses, quickly bathing and dressing you in soft pajamas then putting you to bed.

Being the queen of a hive of bee hybrids can be hard, but above all it is fulfilling.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko

[coco-loco-nut]

Gen Z

pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

summary: everyone seems to forget that Max is 26

a/n: not my favorite, but it’s something i’ve been working on for a while there will be no part two

requests open masterlist

—————

Breaking up with Kelly was extremely difficult for Max to do. Despite not being in love with her anymore, he was very aware of what would happen to P. Max knew it was better to break up than stay just because of P, so he bit the bullet. The next few months were lonely, having to readjust to being alone in Monaco with just his cats.

That’s when you came barreling into his life. Only two years younger than Max, you were a breath of fresh air for him. He really didn’t expect to fall for you, not so quick anyway.

You knew a bit about Formula One, but it was more to the extent that your home hosted a race, some drivers lived in the city, and your hairdresser’s son was a driver. It didn’t phase you when Max told you about his career and fame, you just thought the Dutchman was cute.

“Men who own cats are major green flags,” you told him over text when you first started dating. That might’ve been what really made Max fall for you. You made him feel young, understandably so. He was 19 when he first met Kelly, and she was 28.

Max taught you about the races, you helped him connect with his inner Gen Z. He taught you Dutch and how to game, you taught him slang and pop culture. The two of you were sitting on the couch a month before the Monaco GP, watching Cars of course, when Max asked you to join him at the race.

“Of course, anything for Lightning McQueen,” you squeeze his hand. You knew from TikTok that Charles, your boyfriend’s work husband, was Lightning McQueen, but how could that not be Max.

“Kachow,” Max says causing you to laugh. He has been watching the TikToks and reels you send him, usually something formula one or cars related.

Max is watching Cars 2 with you when he points out each driver in the movie. You store the knowledge in the back of your mind for when you watch classic races and Max explains things to you. You feel sufficiently ready for Monaco.

“Lewis, this is my girlfriend, Y/n,” Max introduces you to the Mercedes driver. You look at him, star stuck.

“I loved you in Cars,” you blurt out, causing Lewis to laugh and Max to hide his face in embarrassment. Max isn’t surprised, but he can’t believe this is how your first interaction is going. Lewis is just happy you aren’t with Max because he is a driver.

“Thank you, how old are you?” Lewis asks, ready to feel old.

“24, two years younger than Maxie,” you smile lovingly at your boyfriend.

“I forgot how young you actually are,” Lewis’s unspoken words hang in the air between him and Max. Now that you are dating someone closer to your own age.

Lewis’s statement seemed to be the general consensus when everyone saw you with him. Max looked and acted like he was 26. He was using slang you taught him, he was making pop culture references that he likely wouldn’t have known otherwise. He was getting to experience his twenty’s like he should have been, not as if he was much older than he was.

Lando was the most excited to meet you, not only were you his age, but you brought out Max’s inner child that Lando never could.

“I’m stealing your girlfriend,” Lando tells Max, wanting to claim you as his best friend.

“No,” Max deadpans.

“What if Lando is my bestie?” you ask Max, who can’t say no to you.

“Then I guess that’s okay,” Max kisses your temple.

“OMG, McLaren is doing another hide and seek video, you two should join,” Lando proposes.

“That actually sounds fun,” Max says, looking at you for confirmation.

“I’m in,” you smile, letting Lando lead the way.

The video is a hit, the fans are loving this version of Max. Max is loving this version of him too, for once he doesn’t feel like he has to grow up faster than he should.

“Stay away from her, she’s no good for you. Act like a grown up,” you overhear Jos tell Max as you come back to the garage from hospitality. You have yet to meet Jos, Max made it very clear that he doesn’t want you near his dad. The memes the two of you send back and forth are a good enough reason why, so you hang back.

“What do you mean? I am. I’m 26, why should I act like I’m 40? I am happier with her than I was with Kelly,” Max argues back, you hold yourself back.

“World Champions are serious, mature. Quit acting like Lando Norris and more like an adult,” Jos is seething.

“Ask Max to come back here, say the team needs him or something,” you as an engineer when you notice Jos getting angrier.

“Then why am I leading by a heavy margin already. You just can’t handle that I am putting myself first. What would you even know about being a champion? You never won a race!” Max yells. The engineer quickly cuts in and leads Max to you.

“You gagged him, baby. Are you okay?” Max hugs you, you just rub his back as he regulates his breathing.

“He’s an opp, for real,” Max mutters into your shoulder, causing you to snort with laughter.

“God, I love you,” you can’t contain the laughter. Max joins in, your smile is infectious.

“I did use it right, no?” Max asks between the laughter.

“You did, I just wasn’t expecting it,” you take a deep breath, calming down.

“No cap?”

“Alright, you are using too much. Where is old man Max, this is freaky,” you take a step back, the smile that remains on your face betrays your words.

“You got me into my gen z era, you get the consequences,” Max pulls you back into him as you groan in annoyance.

“I love you too,” he laughs, peppering your face with kisses.

And when a journalist is brave enough to ask about the shift in Max? He’s always eager to talk about you.

“My girlfriend forced me to watch hours of YouTube compilations about formula one memes. We are always sending different memes to each other, she definitely helps me remember to laugh more,” Max gushes.

“I guess we all forget that you aren’t nearly forty,” the journalist nods. Max answers a few more questions before finding you in his drivers room. He lays down on the couch, his head on your lap.

“What’s on your mind?” you run your hand through Max’s hair.

“Have I changed that much?” he asks, his blue eyes looking up at you.

“I don’t think so, I think you’ve just started being yourself around more people. You are still the same Max that I first met and fell in love with, everyone else is just seeing that Max,” you are confused about the question, but answer him. Max doesn’t reply, he just nuzzles closer to you.

“I like this version of me,” he says into your shirt a few minutes later, you keep playing with his hair.

“I’m glad, but I like every version of you, Max. Even old man Max,” you smile as he sits up.

“Old man? How about I show you how far from true that is,” there is a look in his eye that tells you that you just started something.

“And how will you do that?” you decide to entertain him as he slips his hands under your shirt.

“I don’t think I need to tell you.”

[ari-ana-bel-la]

hey lovie i was wondering if you could do an imagine where 2 year old baby Russell spends day with her Uncle Alex and Auntie Lily please 🥺🥺

Strawberry Fields

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the paddock as George pressed a kiss to his daughter’s forehead. Yn giggled, her small arms wrapped around his neck.

“Be good for Uncle Alex and Auntie Lily, okay?” he murmured.

Yn nodded enthusiastically, her curls bouncing. Carmen, standing beside them, smiled warmly. “She’s going to have the best time. Right, sweetheart?”

“Stwawbewwies!” Yn chirped, clapping her little hands together.

Lily chuckled as she reached out to take Yn’s tiny hand. “That’s right! We’re going to pick the biggest, juiciest strawberries ever.”

Alex, standing beside her, ruffled Yn’s hair. “And we’ll make sure to bring some back for you two.”

George sighed, pretending to be dramatic. “Guess we’ll just have to survive without her for a whole day.”

Carmen laughed. “You’ll be fine. Have fun, baby,” she added, kissing Yn’s cheek.

And with that, the trio set off, heading to a beautiful strawberry field just outside of town.

The drive was peaceful, with Lily playing some soft music while Alex entertained Yn with silly faces in the backseat. She giggled, eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Uncle Lex, funny!” she declared, causing Lily to laugh.

“I try,” Alex said with a grin. “It’s my best skill, you know.”

Soon, they arrived at the field, stretching wide and lush under the summer sky. Rows and rows of bright red strawberries glistened in the sun, and the fresh scent of ripe fruit filled the air.

Yn, securely holding her tiny play stroller, looked around with wide eyes. “So many!” she gasped.

Lily crouched down beside her. “You ready to pick some?”

Yn nodded eagerly, gripping Lily’s hand as they walked towards the entrance. Alex grabbed a small basket and slung a bag over his shoulder for the extras.

“Okay, Yn,” Alex said, squatting to her level. “You pick the best ones, and Auntie Lily and I will help.”

Yn pouted slightly. “I do it myself!”

Lily and Alex exchanged amused glances. “Alright, alright,” Lily said. “You’re the boss.”

They started walking between the rows, Yn stopping every so often to examine a strawberry carefully before placing it in her stroller instead of the basket.

“Uh, sweetheart,” Alex began. “The berries go in here.” He tapped the basket.

Yn frowned. “But stroller…”

Lily laughed. “She has a system, Alex. Let her do her thing.”

Shrugging, Alex complied, though he had to bite back a smile as he watched Yn methodically fill her tiny stroller with strawberries. Every once in a while, she would hand one to Lily, who would pretend to inspect it before putting it in the real basket.

After a while, Lily decided to give Yn a little treat. Holding up a particularly plump berry, she asked, “Would you like a taste, sweetheart?”

Yn’s eyes widened, and she eagerly opened her mouth. Lily carefully fed her the strawberry, cupping her small chin to catch any juice that might escape.

“Yummy!” Yn declared, licking her lips. “More?”

Lily grinned. “Maybe a little later, or else we won’t have any left.”

Yn huffed but nodded, happily resuming her mission.

Meanwhile, Alex found himself in charge of pushing the ridiculously tiny play stroller whenever Yn wanted to use both hands to pick berries.

“This is… definitely my biggest challenge yet,” he muttered, maneuvering the little stroller through the uneven ground.

Lily smirked. “You handle it well.”

“Should’ve been a professional stroller-pusher instead of a racer,” he joked.

Yn, overhearing him, turned with a serious expression. “No, Uncle Lex. You dwive fast.”

Both adults burst into laughter. “Well, I’m glad you approve,” Alex said, ruffling her hair again.

As the afternoon wore on, Yn began to slow down, her little hands rubbing at her eyes.

Lily noticed and leaned down. “Tired, sweetheart?”

Yn nodded sleepily. “Sleepy.”

Without hesitation, Alex scooped her up, settling her against his chest. She let out a tiny sigh, curling into him. Her little arms wrapped loosely around his neck.

“Guess it’s naptime,” Alex murmured, adjusting her to make sure she was comfortable.

Lily took the stroller from him, shaking her head fondly. “I hope George and Carmen realize what an angel they have.”

“Oh, they know,” Alex chuckled. “But we’ll send them proof just in case.”

Lily pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of Yn snuggled against Alex, her little hand clutching his shirt. Then another of Alex, now carrying both Yn and her beloved stroller, an amused expression on his face.

She sent the pictures to Carmen and George, adding a simple caption: A successful day of strawberry picking. Yn is officially the cutest.

Almost instantly, Carmen responded: I might cry. This is adorable.

Then George: Tell Alex not to get too comfortable. That’s MY little girl.

Lily laughed as she showed the messages to Alex, who smirked. “Tell George he has competition.”

Lily typed back: Too late, George. I think she’s switching teams.

They shared another quiet laugh before making their way back to the car, where Yn slept soundly in Alex’s arms, her tiny stroller tucked safely beside them.

Later that evening, when they returned to the paddock, George and Carmen met them at the entrance.

“Did you have fun, baby?” Carmen asked as Yn rubbed her eyes, waking up.

“Stwawbewwies,” she mumbled sleepily, making them all chuckle.

George took her from Alex’s arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I think that means she had the best day.”

Lily handed Carmen the basket of strawberries. “She was very dedicated to picking only the best ones.”

Carmen smiled. “Thank you both for today.”

Alex and Lily exchanged a glance before Alex said, “Anytime. She’s the best.”

Yn, still sleepy, peeked up at Alex. “Uncle Lex?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

She reached out, patting his cheek. “I love you.”

Alex’s heart melted instantly. “I love you too, munchkin.”

George sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright, she can have Alex as your favourite uncle.”

They all laughed, knowing that this was just one of many perfect days to come.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[readwritealldayallnight]

Home

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 1.6k words

warnings/tags: fluff, kinda barely angst

Soap has to bite his lip to keep himself contained, absolutely itching to make another comment, take another jab at the Lieutenant sitting next to him who couldn’t seem to sit still. Ultimately he decides he’s rather fond of keeping his nose intact, and refrains from teasing Ghost further, for the sake of not being punched with a little over an hour to go until they reach base, if nothing else.

As excitable as the Scot usually is in any circumstance, he does have a point though, even Price has never seen Ghost so antsy to return from a mission before. The skull faced man keeps checking his watch every other minute as though it would motivate the seconds to tick by faster, he can’t seem to stop bouncing his leg in impatience, casting quick glances out the window every so often. He wants, no, needs this jet to land back at base already.

“Somewhere you need to be LT?” Soap feigns ignorance, a smirk across his face, apparently having refrained himself long enough since the last joke all of ten minute ago.

“Don’t ask me to take you to the medics when we land, mate.” Gaz comments casually, not bothering to look up from where he’s fiddling with a deck of cards in his hands, equally trying to pass the time. “You’re askin’ him for it.”

“Ach, I’m just curious to know wha’s got the big man in such a haste to leave his dear ol’ mates behind, ya ken? Almos’ as if he has somethin’ waitin’ for him back at home.” The blue eyed sergeant replies, casting a mischievous sideways glance towards the man in question.

“Reckon it’s more about who’s waitin’ for him.” The Captain pitches in himself, sending his own knowing glance at the Lieutenant.

Ghost can’t be bothered to acknowledge any of the conversation happening around or about him, checking his watch again. Not when he’s on his way home after being deployed for three months. Not when this is the longest he’s had to be away from you yet. Not when it feels as if a piece of his beating heart was ripped out from between his ribs and had made a home for itself in the fissure tearing through yours, leaving him feeling as though he was wholly and irrevocably missing a piece of himself.

Simon thinks he could spend the rest of his life learning every language that’s ever been spoken my mankind, and never have the proper words to explain how much your absence has shaken him to his core, how much he’s missed you. Utterly and simply, missed you.

The first month apart, he found himself missing the more obvious things. He missed your smile, your laugh, making you laugh. He missed your voice, hearing you hum in the shower, sing in the car, recount your day, talk in your sleep (you refuse to believe him when he tells you this, but he swears it’s true). He missed holding you, you holding him. Missed your touch, your kisses, your body. Missed the way you feel, the way you make him feel. Missed falling asleep to you and waking up to you.

The second month, he found that he was really starting to miss the little things. He missed the smell of your hair fresh out of the shower. He missed the way you always ask him to crack the eggs when baking because you insist he’s just better at it than you are, gets less shell in it. He missed you teasing him about his driving, holding your hand over the console, opening the door for you to watch you smile and roll your eyes every time.

As the mission dragged into its last month, Simon found he just missed you. Simply you. He missed watching you get ready for the day, getting dressed, going about your routine. He missed existing in the same space as you, hearing you move throughout the flat, always there even if he can’t always see you. He missed seeing traces of you, finding strands of your hair everywhere, tripping over shoes left in the doorway, seeing both your mugs together on the drying rack. Evidence of a life lived, together.

The nature of the 141’s work meant that things had to be kept extremely tight-lipped and on the strictest need to know basis, especially in ensuring the men’s safety. This meant never being able to know where Simon was going or was at any given moment. It meant not being able to speak on the phone, because even with the very best protection and programming, phone calls can be tapped, and traced. And while that one isn’t a precaution that everyone strictly follows, taking the occasional quick phone call to a loved one on a secured line, but Simon has been through too much, seen too much to every put you at risk, no matter how minuscule the risk may be. He simply won’t take it. Not with you.

And so you take up the next best thing, a tried and true method through time. You write him letters. You tell him that you don’t expect him to write back, you understand that he won’t want to write down an address someone could track you to, you haven’t put down a return address either, adding that you’re not even sure when and if he’ll be able to read or receive them.

You love this man with every fibre of your being, but you really do know next to nothing about this part of his life that takes up so much of his time. It feels like they’re stealing your time when they call him away, stealing time spent with him. The no contact was especially difficult for you in the beginning of your relationship. It had been the cause of your first fight with him.

You’d told him the time apart (a month, the longest you’d gone through back then) was too much, you missed him too much. Seeing you hurt, and hurting himself, equally as tense about the periods of long distance, Simon had angrily lashed out. He wasn’t used to this, someone caring about him this much, caring about you more just as much. Not only was the intensity of these feelings foreign, but you were wanting to talk about them now.

He’d asked you if you wanted him to leave you then, not wanting to go on hurting you if it really was too much, to which you replied that no, the solution to you being too sad when he’s gone isn’t to leave you permanently. Neither of you knew how to actually navigate this, and Simon was still harbouring deep, slowly healing wounds that made navigating this uncharted territory an endeavour that left him feeling vulnerable, exposed. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to leave you, but the thought of hurting you was equally as bothersome.

You two idiots in love had your first proper fight, had your first proper makeup, and eventually came up with a sort of placeholder solution. It wasn’t perfect, nothing about Simon being gone was ideal really, but for the two of you, it worked. While he’s away from home you write him a letter, not every day though, per his request (‘So that I don’t start to feel more like homework, yeah?’), only when something worth writing comes to mind. It winds up being about a letter every other day, anyway.

You mail them to their permanent base, and he either gets to read them when they’re delivered, or he’s rewarded with the sight of the envelope atop his desk upon returning from wherever else they may have been temporarily based for the time. He reads them, every single one. Over, and over, and over. He has them essentially memorized, as numerous as they are. Every squiggle of your pen, each little doodle you add in on occasion, depending on the story you might be telling. You usually try to keep them lighthearted, happy, something that can brighten his mood and reassure him you’re doing okay. But sometimes you’re honest, you admit when days are hard and his absence is especially difficult.

In turn, Simon writes his own letters. His process is a little different than yours is. While you’re writing yours as the days of his absence pass, he often arrives back on base to discover multiple envelopes piled atop one another, a sight akin to Christmas morning in his eyes. Still, he always diligently reads through each letter of yours, and for every one you write him, he takes his own pen to paper to write his response to each and every line you draft for him. He adds in comments, witty remarks, the occasional joke or fun fact, sprinkles in stories if he has any that fit. He tells you how he misses you too, wishes he could put these letters in your hands himself.

He will soon enough though.

He has his letters, papers that might seem so insignificant to anyone else on this jet, tucked in between a pair of extra clothes in his pack, in hopes of keeping them as safe as he can. The majority of your letters are carefully stuffed in there as well. The most special ones however, the ones you’ve written for him with your penmanship etched upon page after page of writing, with your lipstick stained kisses across them, with your perfume sprayed on them, those he has neatly folded and tucked under his vest, just above his heart.

Soon as his feet are back on solid ground and he’s dismissed, he’ll be making his way back to you. Where he’ll take out each and every one of those letters he’s written in response to you, and he’ll read them to you as he holds you in his arms, feeling your hearts beating against each others again, where they belong, and that’s how he’ll know he’s home.

[hysteria-things]

smut w chris and goody 2 shoes reader who always acts so smart and innocent w people then acts like a brat to chris?

he gets sick of it and roughly fucks her into her place , caring less for her pleasure and using her just so she knows how much of a slut she is!

LESSON LEARNED

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: brat tamer!chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you get taught a lesson when you act like a brat in public.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, spanking, humiliation, face fucking, dry humping, squirting, p in v, rough sex, degradation, a sprinkle of praising, overstimulation, unprotected sex (no bueno!)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,502

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: HAPPY KINKTOBER!!!

this is based off one of my blurbs from a while ago😜

your reputation to others is excellent. you’re a nice girl, who is outgoing and will always follow directions or help whoever is in need. goody two shoes is what people mostly describe you as, which isn’t that far off. however, when you’re with your significant other, your bratty side slips up.

“let me go!” you tell chris like you’re a toddler, stomping your feet while he leads you to his bedroom. “i’m being serious!”

opening the door, he lets go of your wrist to have you lead inside, yelping when his palm smacks your ass to usher you more quickly before bending you over the edge of his computer desk. pouting your lips, you hear his heavy breathing as he forcibly pulls up your skirt. you know what’s coming. your punishment.

your eyes start to well up, feeling the slightest bit bad that you acted like a brat in front of his friends, but you’re one of all things. “o-one.” you say between a sob when your boyfriend’s hand slaps your ass for the first time out of many to come tonight. you start spewing out apologies, wiggling in his grip that’s pinned your hands behind your back. “i’m sorry, okay?” you admit, his hand spanking you once more. “i didn’t mean to!”

“if you didn’t mean to you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.” chris snarls back, followed by another smack. “keep counting,” he says through gritted teeth.

SPANK.

your cries echo throughout the room as he continues to punish your reddening bottom. each slap lands with accuracy, leaving its mark on your tender skin. your tears fall on your cheeks now, mixing with the stinging sensation. “seven... eight... nine!" you wail, your voice hoarse from yelling. your body shakes with each impact, trying to squirm away another time. again, no use.

his palm connects again, the force jolting you. the pain courses to your core, pussy throbbing in response with a mix of mercy and arousal. “ten! i swear i won’t do it again!” you plea, desperate for at least some sympathy. alas, chris remains careless, his anger still fresh.

he acts like he didn’t even hear your lame apology, his focus only on disciplining you for your actions. raising his hand high, he prepares himself for another smack against your now-colored rear. “eleven.” he says under his breath, starting to count for you. the sound of skin meeting skin chimes, along with your pained whimper. he pauses for a moment, letting you take a breath to let your punishment sink in — and there’s no way out of it. then, without warning, his hand comes down again, striking your already sore ass with a vicious hit.

“twelve.” chris states clearly, his tone lacking mercy. he continues this harsh pattern, each spank followed by a number. “thirteen... fourteen... fifteen...” the more he counts, the more you sob.

“sixteen… seventeen!” you take back your job, shouting after each brutal strike. your body trembles, feeling like every nerve is in pain. the heat from your bruised cheeks radiate down to your thighs and the folds of your pussy. despite being punished, you feel thrilling and excited all in one. “eighteen... nineteen... twenty!” you choke out, your voice barely audible over your heavy breathing. the tears keep streaming, skin shining from sweat.

by the time his hand falls for the twentieth time, your bottom is a crimson mess. the sting lingers, knowing it’ll be that way for days. yet, you’ve never been so turned on.

chris finally stops after the last spank, admiring his work. your ass is a beautiful shade of red, the perfect blend of pain and pleasure. he can see the arousal glistening between your thighs, a clear visual of what this has been doing for you.

with a firm grip, he grabs your hair and pulls your head back, forcing you to look at him. his eyes stare into yours, filled with a mixture of anger and desire. “what a fucking brat.” he sneers, his other hand roughly groping your numbing ass cheek. he releases your hair, pushing himself off of you with so much force you fall to the ground, landing with a thud. from the impact, your butt stings even more.

curling into a ball, you wrap your arms in front of your legs and cry softly. “i-i’m sorry, chris.” you whine, voice shaking. the humiliation of being bent over and spanked like a naughty child, combined with the intense physical sensations, leaves you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

despite the pain, you can't ignore the ache between your legs. your cunt throbs with a need that it’s confusing. you’ve never felt this way before, and it scares you.

chris watches you on the floor, a smirk playing on his lips. he knows exactly what's going through your mind. “get up.” he snaps, standing tall and towering over you. “and get on the bed; on your knees. now.” he waits, expecting a protest, but he doesn’t receive one. that means it’s working.

once you're in position, he comes over, his cock already half hard. “if you're going to act like a brat, you'll learn how to get treated like one, too.” chris explains, running a hand through your hair. he unbuckles his jeans so they fall freely onto the floor, dick springing out right in front of you while gripping your hair and pushing his tip against your lips. “open up.”

trembling, you part your lips, allowing chris to guide his thick cock past them. the taste of pre-cum fills your mouth as he thrusts deeper, hitting the back of your throat. “mmph.” you gag slightly around his length, eyes glossy. you don’t pull away, of course. instead, you relax your jaw to accommodate him.

he sets a steady pace, fucking your face with elongated strokes. each snap of the hips sends vibrations through your head, making your nose pressed against his pelvis. your hands grasp at the sheets below, wanting to hold onto something since he’s in full domination. you’re uncomfortable, but your pussy continues to clench with need, juices dripping down your thighs. without thinking, you start humping the blanket to try and get friction on your clit like a bitch in heat.

groaning in satisfaction as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, he can feel your throat tighten around him, fighting to breathe around his girth. “that’s it, take it all.” he grunts, holding your head in place as he ruts in and out of your stretched lips. “this is what brats like you deserve.”

taking his free hand, he reaches down to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. the sight of you, tear-streaked and submissive, only makes him want more. noticing your desperate humping, he chuckles deeply. “look at you, getting off like a pretty little thing. you do enjoy this, don't you?”

you moan muffled around chris’ cock as he continues to use your mouth, driving you wild. “mmph! mmph!” you manage to respond, nodding frantically at his question. your hips buck harder against the bed, chasing the friction your clit needs. your pussy clenches tightly, a clear substance gushing out to soak the bedding beneath you.

seeing you drench the sheets, he grins, knowing he's pushed you to ultimate submission. he speeds up his thrusts, fucking your face with more power. “yeah.” he grunts, watching you fall apart beneath him. “you filthy slut. show me how much you love taking this dick like a good little whore.”

his words are degrading, but you enjoy the hell out of it. your mind goes blank, focusing on the feeling of his cock in your mouth and the desperate need pulsing between your thighs. sensing your climax, he pulls out abruptly, leaving you gasping for air and drooling. before you can recover, he flips you over onto your back and yanks your legs apart.

panting heavily, you stare up at chris in a daze, your body still shaking from the intensity of the previous actions. the sudden loss of his dick in your mouth leaves you feeling empty. you. want. more.

the exposing of your dripping cunt has his eyes widen, as if he’s a kid in a candy shop. “jesus, chris.” you whimper, feeling ashamed by how pathetic you seem right now. “please.” you’re desperate, not even sure what you're begging for anymore. release? punishment? his harsh words? all you know is that you’re craving every bit of him.

chris takes in the sight of your exposed, fluttering hole, his horniness shooting straight to his dick. “you want it?” he murmurs, his fingers tracing the swollen slit of your pussy. “you want my cock inside you; stretching out every inch of this needy pussy?”

when you’re about to answer, he lines himself up and plows in deep, burying himself in one stroke. a guttural groan rips from his chest at the tightness gripping him. “holy shit, you were made for this.” chris exhales, each pump of his hips driving him impossibly deeper. “taking my cock like the perfect slut you are.”

a sharp cry tickles your throat as he thrusts into you, the sudden stretch sending waves of pleasure and pain through your core. your nails dig into the sheets as he fucks you, each ruthless thrust hitting that sweet spot inside you and sending stars flying behind your eyelids. “yeah! oh, fuck, yeah!” you shout, your hips bucking fast to meet his brutal rhythm. “making me feel so good!”

the filthy words spill from your lips before it’s too late, fueled by the overwhelming pleasure you’re experiencing. you’ve never felt so full. his cock is hard inside you, pounding repeatedly against your cervix with each stroke.

his eyes flash with possession as he rails into you, living for the way your cunt clenches around him, gripping him deep. his balls slap against your ass with every violent thrust, the lewd sound mixing with your wanton cries. “mhm, scream for me.” he says, angling his hips to hit your g-spot just right. “let everyone hear what a cock sleeve you are for me.”

leaning down to your chest, he takes a nipple and swirls his tongue around it. his other hand snakes between your bodies to rub circles over your clit, wanting to push you over the edge. “cum on my cock, you filthy girl.” chris demands, his voice filled with lust.

each bite to your nipple sends sparks of ecstasy through your veins while his stimulation on your clit has you close to the brink of release. “oh god, oh god! i’m-i’m gonna—” your words turn into incoherent babbling as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. your pussy clamps down viciously on his length, milking him as your body shakes and becomes limp beneath him.

the grip on your clit tightens, prolonging your pleasure as he chases his release. with a final, sharp thrust, he buries himself and cums inside you, filling your spasming cunt with his seed. his cock throbs with each string until he collapses on top of you, his weight pushing you further into the mattress. “fuck, that was amazing.” he pants, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “and it’s all for me.” he whispers in your ear, referring to your body.

after a moment of silence, he pulls out with a wet pop. a trail of cum flows, painting your thighs with its sticky substance. he rolls off of you with a satisfied smile, but bites his lip when he spots his cum on you. “turn around and show me that pretty ass.”

“what—” you’re cut off when he guides you on your hands and knees, in the position he wants you in. his favorite; ass up with your pussy on full display. a shiver runs down your spine. it was silly to think you were getting off the hook that easy.

he shifts behind you, hands grasping your thighs as he aligns himself between your spread legs. one finger traces the marks he left earlier, your hips backing into him unknowingly. “so eager. tell me what you need, slut. beg for it.” he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance, letting you feel his growing erection.

chris waits patiently, your body practically calling his name to be filled again. he can see the desperation in the way you arch your back, presenting yourself even more. “you know what to say.” he points out. “i want to hear those dirty words from your smart mouth.”

he delivers a sharp smack to one cheek, watching the flesh jiggle and flush pink under the force. he massages the sting away, waiting for you to give him what he wants. “please, chris.” you pout, feeling embarrassed about how at this moment you can’t live without his cock. “please, fuck me again, baby. use me however you want.” it seems like you don’t know who you are anymore. hours ago you were tough and mighty, but now you’re small and submissive.

pulling you back against him, he lines up his dick with your soaked sex. “that’s it, princess.” he says, his breath hot against your ear. “swallowing my cock like the good girl i know.”

bullying himself inside of your used hole, your eyes roll back from being filled with him again. just as before, you wrap deliciously around him. he sets a quick pace, the sound of your bodies conjoining bouncing off of the walls. “you’re still so tight.” he hisses.

your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he slams into you, the wideness spreading you open and hitting spots you didn't know existed. it’s almost too much, but you love it. “yes! yes! yes!” you cry out, meeting each of his powerful thrusts. “h-harder.”

the explicit sounds of your guys’ love making fill the air, conjoining with your moans and the slap of skin. you can feel another orgasm building, your walls fluttering wildly around his base. “do-don’t stop. don't ever stop.” you babble incoherently, lost in the trance of ecstasy. “i’m g-gonna—”

feeling your gummy walls squeeze around him, chris is determined to bring you to release. “cum for me.” he insists, brunette strands sticking to his forehead. “come on, give it to me.”

he can feel his own high approaching, his balls tightening as he nears. he holds back, wanting to put you before him. walls spasming, your moans become a higher pitch. “i’m cumming! fuck, i’m—” you don’t finish your sentence when the familiar ring of white moves down his shaft. chris fills you up one more time shortly after, ropes of cum shooting into your womb.

exhausted is an understatement. you know damn well you’re going to be walking from side to side for days, possibly weeks. “i love you so fucking much.” he breathes from next to you, kissing your shoulder. you hum in response, shutting your eyes. if that didn’t make you learn your lesson, you don’t know what will.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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