#the sunlit garden of it all….

[puredoesnotmeankind]

People complaining about MC and Vic between obsessed with each other despite only knowing each other for a day seven years ago… well, have you considered that literally who cares, and also they were fifteen and in a low point in their lives when had found someone who understands them yet it (seemingly) so removed from it all, and despite it all, they wondered about hope and dreams, and they found each other so bright and beautiful.

And then it all came crashing down when they found out about the death of their loved ones. And along with their loved ones died the lives they had, the people they were, the loved ones around them who changed for the worse.

And as the years go back, they become more and more miserable and hopeless in their lives… and they think back to that they when the first met each other, and how beautiful that meeting had been, and how terrible every moment has been after, how bright-eyed and blissful they were, so oblivious to what would happen next. They think of about the other, someone who was not a part of their fucked up life, someone with who they could pretend for a while before they had to face reality.

And they were going to meet each other the next day but they never got that closure, that chance to say goodbye, like they didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to their loved ones and that part of their life. And so for years they obsessed over that day at the boardwalk, turning each other into less person, more a symbol. Until they met again, and found out each other’s identity and it all came crashing down

Like rose-tinted glasses and idealisation of the past of it all…

[trans-elrond]

logs in. messages a buddy about dune villainfucking. reblogs 20 shitposts. logs off

[mchib]

rize arima furata and ihei being half siblings is so crazy to me like what do u mean u all indirectly (directly in furata's crase) killed ur half siblings and their foster families

[metanarrates]

the paradise being described as the tomb of the scenarios...

[entirelysein-e]

The way my bf lets me decide how we decorate the new place again hehe

[ayilings]

in the sunlit garden, holding hands / because i’ve never forgotten our promise, i’ve come all this way at last

[the-best-bagel]

all the music in the black rose arc was so fucking good

[peachesofteal]

Can we please please please get some more Simon x single mother au? Possibly him helping in the garden/ keeping emmaline out of trouble while Mom works in the garden

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 18+ mdni / mild sexual content

“Ow! fuck!”

Your hand jerks, drawing back to your mouth with a hiss. 

“What is it?” He forces himself still, staring daggers at where the tip of your finger has started to leak blood, a thick drop dripping down the side before you bring it to your mouth, lush lips wrapping around your injury. “Are you alright?” His tone is tightly controlled, even keeled, nonchalant, but on the inside, worry gnaws away at his stomach, chewing through the organ until it’s spilling free and running rampant through his body. 

“There’s a piece of glass in here.” In the garden bed? “Some of the other tenants, hang around up here at night. They usually leave bottles or cans behind.” The worry turns to anger, a simple plan slowly taking shape in his mind, a strategy to find the rooftop partiers, and ensure they never leave glass in your garden again. 

Emmaline cries, nose and brows wrinkled in irritation, and you turn to coo at her, finger still half in your mouth. 

“It’s okay, little pea. Just give me a second.” She continues to fuss, and you sigh, wilting like one of your own little flowers, left too long in the sun without water. You blink, and it’s like you’ve shed your sunlit skin for an exhausted shell. Oh, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to do it on your own anymore. 

I’m here now. 

“Can I?” He asks softly, warming at how your face lights with relief. 

“Yes, please.” You point to the bottle that’s tucked in the side of the backpack, and he unbuckles her from the bouncer that you lugged up the four flights of stairs earlier, even though he had texted you an hour before and politely suggested you wait for him to be finished his phone call, so he could help you. 

You went up anyway, much to his displeasure. Displeasure, that he had to swallow, permanently. 

You’re not his. Not yet. He can’t be disappointed by resistance or refusal when you don’t even know all the ways he can be there for you yet. He knows you’ll learn. You’re a smart girl. His smart girl. 

Emmaline lays nestled in the crook of his elbow, slightly elevated on her back, and he pops the cap of the bottle easily, rubbing his index finger against her cheek to trigger the reflex that will open her mouth. When it does, he keeps it at the right angle to ensure the formula doesn’t flow too fast into her belly. 

“You’ve done this before.” You murmur, reaching into the backpack for a band aid. You’re studying him, tracing over his face, his hands that are nearly the size of your baby, and he can feel the scrutiny, the curious intensity of your gaze. 

“Had a nephew. I was around a lot, when he was this age.” He had a brother too. And a mother. A sister-in-law. A family. 

Emmaline gurgles around the nipple, and he slips it free, sitting her mostly upright, giving her a gentle pat on the back amid her protestations, little grunts that he’s sure she means as ‘feed me’ and ‘more’. He waits for you to ask him the dreaded questions, the focus on the word had, the inevitable conversation about loss and family and pain, guilt and grief that can make a man feel like he’s been buried alive. 

You don’t.

Instead, you simply say, 

“Emmaline had a dad once, too.” 

It’s nearly 2100 when you knock on his door later, baby monitor in one hand, two amber colored bottles in another. 

“Hey. You busy?” His heart does a double tap inside his chest. Bad timing, the worst. Your sweet mouth is slightly open, hopeful, teeth parted just barely to reveal a flash of tongue, and his jaw clenches against the wild need that catapults through his veins to his cock. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? You motion to the monitor. “Just went down. Figure I have about an hour before I pass out myself and could use some adult time.” Shit. The duffel bag next to the door practically speaks for him, irritatingly reminding him he has a plane to catch in less than two hours. 

“I can’t, I’m about to head out.” Your brow furrows, confusion churning into understanding within a moment, disappointment flickering across your expression before it smooths out. 

“Right. Okay.” 

“I want to.” He hurries the words. “But I travel… for work and I have to be on a flight in a few hours.” You’re already half turning away, slinking off to your apartment, giving him a soft agreement as you go. 

“Sure, yeah.” 

“Wait, sweetheart,” You startle at the pet name, eyes going wide at the inferred affection. “when I get back, let’s… have a drink.” You nod, and he smiles a real smile, barely tugging his lips upward, probably hardly visible to you. The kind of smile he’s been wearing around you these past two weeks, the kind of smile he tries to give Emmaline when she stares at him. 

“Alright, sounds good then.” Your key finds your lock, and he steps out into the hallway, trapping your gaze with his own. 

“You girls be good.” He says, a parting instruction, and a bashful, bewildered smile of your own curves across your mouth. 

“We will.”

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Fall Into the Dark With Me✨

Dark Arts Professor! Joel Miller x Herbology Professor Fem! reader

A/N: I have had this idea for the longest time to mix the two things I love the most together. I hope you love it as much as I do! Hogwarts AU with Joel Miller was the best idea I’ve had in a while. He is an absolute menace in this, and I love him very much 🥰 Thank you to @jennaispunk for beta reading!

Summary: You’ve had your eyes on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for a while. Just like he’s had his eyes on you. He’s a sly, sneaky, teasing Slytherin, and you’re a shy, meek Hufflepuff. Will your little flirting game suddenly lead to more once he gets you alone in a room?

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 7.9k

Tags: Slytherin! Joel, Hufflepuff! reader, relentless teasing, flirting, pining, Joel is a menace, no use y/n, Hogwarts AU, Joel has a dirty mouth, oral (fem! receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, porn with plot, Harry Potter spells and references, no outbreak au, Dark Arts! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  August blew in as fast as the hot summer breeze slipped out of reach. No more cozy afternoons curled up on your plush couch with your cat. You were back to big green open lands, back to the scents of willow trees and butterbeer, back to Hogwarts. Home for the next school year. 

   The thing was, you weren’t prepared for what awaited you behind those grand castle walls this semester, not even a little bit. You weren’t prepared for him. 

   Joel Miller, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the absolute bane of your existence. Ever since you locked eyes with him that first time in the Great Hall, you couldn’t get those gorgeous brown irises out of your head. 

   He was a menace; you could just tell. You knew the moment you saw that smug smirk on his face, those tousled grey flecked curls you could lace your fingers through, that patchy salt-and-pepper beard that you imagined might feel so good trailing down the skin of your neck with plush lips teasing across your body. 

   It was the way he carried himself. Like he owned every single damn room he walked into. Button-up silky shirts that he rolled up to his elbows, exposing those long, corded veins that skated down his tanned forearms. But let’s not forget the emerald snake tattoo that slithered its way around his forearm, accentuating the tanned skin that glowed almost golden under the warm, sunlit skies. Marking his Slytherin blood with ink. And those hands. Big, thick fingers that he’d wrap around his dark brown dragon heartstring wand as he chanted spells inside his classroom. And the way his eyes always seemed to shift toward yours in a crowded room. Those dark brown coffee-colored eyes that seemed to put you under a hypnotic spell. 

   He was trouble. You knew it, too. 

   It all started that first day, after that first heated stare at the sorting ceremony. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off you for the entire night. He didn’t hide it either. And then it was the casual grazing of hands in crowded halls, the flirtatious smiles and winks across the dining hall, the small conversations in the outside gardens as he’d slip a green apple from his pocket and slowly take a bite out of it. His eyes never leaving yours as they devoured you. Just like you’d wish he’d do to your skin, your lips, your flustered core. 

   He knew what he was doing, he knew damn well. 

   It was just a flirtatious banter between a tall, handsome Slytherin and a shy, gentle Hufflepuff. One a Dark Arts professor, the other a Herbology professor. It was only casual conversations and the occasional grazing of hands. Until it wasn’t. 

   No. Then he started taunting you, playing petty games. The hard-to-get kind of games. 

   One of the assistant professors, Priscilla Wilson, would always try to get attention from Professor Miller. Finding any reason to reach over and brush her fingers over his broad shoulders. Flip her long, fiery red hair, bat her long eyelashes, giggle every time he gives in to her flirting and winks over at her, making her nearly fall out of her seat. And every single time he’d entertain her, he’d look your way and fucking smirk at you. 

   Fucking smirk.

   Smug bastard. You just want to slap the stupid smirk off his face, but you also just really want to fucking kiss it off. 

   You’re so royally fucked.

   He loves to tease you. Loves to put you right on the edge where you’ll either lash out and call him on his bluff, or just scoff and brush it off your shoulder like a Cornish Pixie. 

   He knows damn well it gets you all flustered. Cheeks red, hot breath blowing from your mouth, pursed lips as he smirks your way while other women fawn over him. Drool practically hanging from their gawking mouths. You can practically feel the pride he wears inside that broad chest of his. Brown eyes narrowed while he dares you to do anything about it. He knows you won’t. Knows you’re better than to give in to his little tricks. So you just take it and stomp out of the room. Every single time while his devious chuckle floats through the room, right into your ears. 

   Well, he’d gotten into your head long ago. You gave in to the temptation of his smoldering brown eyes, the playful smirks that curl across his plush lips, that fucking Southern accent that drives you up the walls when you’re in your bed late at night. 

   He’s poisoned you. Enchanted you with his cunning Slytherin ways. Handsome, ambitious, prideful, strong, mischievous, smoldering. That’s exactly why you slip your hand under the cool sheets night after night. Fingers curling up inside you, thumb stroking light circles over your needy clit, moaning his name, pretending that it’s him under your sheets taking you over the edge. 

   His hands, his fingers, his filthy words, his mouth, his cock, his everything giving you orgasm after orgasm. And when you’re finished, sweat coating every inch of your skin, you feel breathless and dirty. 

   This is what he wants. You all hot and bothered for him. Well, he won because you’re already completely smitten for the Slytherin man. 

   And one day, he’ll give in to you, too. 

   The cool air whips past your hair as students shuffle by in the busy hall, rushing so they won’t be late to their classes. Large, cascading open windows filter sunlight through the massive hallway, historical paintings fill the stone walls, towering archways pave every corner, wafts of autumn leaves and pumpkins marinate through the air. 

   Hogwarts is peaceful, and this place is magical.

   As the last of the students disappear down corridors and hurry into classrooms, you’re suddenly alone in the hallway. No noise except for the classroom in front of you. But it’s not just any classroom. 

   It’s the Dark Arts classroom. Joel’s classroom. 

   You lean against the stony wall, wait until all the students quiet down. Eventually, Joel shuts them up and then there’s nothing but his deep, Southern drawl filling the room, filtering out just enough in the hall for you to sit and listen. 

   You do this often. More like every other day. Sitting outside his classroom, listening to his melodic voice teaching about his passion. He’s always had a love for the Dark Arts and now, so do you. 

   As you lean against the edge of the doorway, back against the stone-covered wall, you seem to get lost in the deep drawl of his voice like an enchanted siren. You could listen to him for hours on end. He’s good at what he does. Smart, cunning, brilliant. 

   And by brilliant, you mean he’s wiser than some of the ghosts that lurk these castle corridors. Some people even whisper that he can speak Parseltongue. And you don’t doubt it for one second. The man would open the Chamber of Secrets if someone would let him. 

   But Joel doesn’t need permission from anyone. He does what he wants, when he wants, and who he wants. You just wish that someone was you. 

   You sigh as you lean against the wall, panting every time he starts lecturing on different subjects about the Dark Arts. Today, he’s teaching about werewolves. And that is a subject you happen to find quite fascinating. 

   “Miss Flora, can you tell me how—.”

   You shift your weight and lose your balance, almost tumbling to the polished floor until you grab ahold of the silver-edged door and stop yourself. 

   The classroom grows silent and so does Joel’s bravado voice. 

   Shit. You just got caught red handed. 

   “Think we’ve got a straggler out in the hall. Think they should come in. Don’t you, students?” You hear the smirk in his voice. Like he knows it’s you. But how would he know…

   Oh, right. Because he’s the smartest fucking professor at this school. 

   When he clears his throat, you know you won’t be able to weasel your way out of this one. So, you take a hesitant step into the entrance of his classroom, and there he is. Big brown eyes narrowed just slightly and a smug smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

   God, he’s so good looking.

   “Ahh. Professor. Care to join us?” he asks, stepping around his mahogany desk, tapping the tip of his dragon heartstring wand against the top of his thigh.

   That’s all it takes to have you weak in the knees. Because the way he’s looking at you tells you everything you need to know. He wants to pull your strings, make you shiver, make you pliable. And now’s the perfect opportunity where he can fluster you up without even fucking touching you. 

   Shit.

   “Take a seat,” he says, nodding to an open seat at the back of the room.

   You shake your head and take a step back, careful not to look straight into his brown eyes. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t interrupt. I was just—.” 

   “Sit. Down.” It’s not a question but a demand.

   You purse your lips and take the empty seat while several of the students snicker and whisper to each other. 

   Great. Now you’re really blushing. 

   You take a look around the classroom while Joel continues his lesson, flicking his wand to turn to the next slide overhead. The room is dim, curtains drawn so only the floating candles and twinkling lights from hanging lamps fill the room. A dragon’s skeleton is displayed in the back of the room, his mahogany desk covered in neat papers, dark artifacts, and ink quills. Banners of the forbidden forest and creatures of the black lake are spread high across the elegant stone walls. A dusty chandelier with glittering crystals tops off the room, painting golden sparkles on the ceiling. 

   The room is very him. Dark, divine, mysterious, gorgeous. It even fucking smells like him. Cedar wood, mahogany, green apples, whiskey. The room has his trademark all over it.

   You sit back against the wooden chair and watch the way he commands a room. The slight flick of his wand every time he paces back and forth, his rapt attention each time a student answers or asks a question, the way his thick fingers glide through his tousled curls, the way his gaze always seems to come back to you. 

   Werewolf facts slip from his tongue. Their history, their patterns, their targets. One of your favorite creatures to learn about. Especially when it’s coming from him and his deep, magnetic voice.

   It’s like the room turns ten degrees hotter with every minute that passes. Sweat pricks behind the back of your neck, your thighs warm as you cross a leg over your knee, your black skirt of your dress hiking up a little too high, your heart thundering against your chest. 

   You’re a fucking mess because you’re watching him. Twitching, jittering, and shifting every other minute in your seat. He fucking loves to watch you squirm, too. You can see him smirking from the front of the classroom, and it’s all for you.

   “Can anyone tell me what’s the cure for a werewolf bite?” he asks, pacing the room back and forth, eyeing each student with a patient glance.

   His footsteps echo around the cascading room, his hands behind his back, a slight tick in his jaw when no one answers.

   “There’s a cure?” one of the students questions, heads whipping around to face the baffled third year with confusion written all over her innocent face.

   “Yes,” Joel says with a clipped tone. “C’mon. Think. What two things can cure a werewolf bite?”

   Nothing. Not even a peep comes from the copious amount of students in the room. Just eyes to the ground and awkward shifting in their seats. None of them know.

   “Collin?” Joel asks, standing in front of the blonde boy’s chair. His scared blue eyes give away that he’s intimidated and doesn’t know the answer.

   “Umm. I—ugh. Gillyweed?” he guesses, lifting his hopeful eyes when he thinks he may be right.

   “No,” Joel snaps. “Gillyweed allows you to breathe underwater. It does not cure a werewolf bite. Maybe read the text next time before class and then you’d know.” Joel narrows his eyes at Collin, and the scared third year looks down in shame. 

   God. He really intimidates everyone. Doesn’t he?

   “Think. What. Cures. The. Bite.” He accentuates every syllable, draws it out with a deep growl, narrows his eyes into thin slits when nobody can answer. He looks like he’s about to snap with how tight he’s holding his wand. But before he does, you decide to answer.

   “Silver and dittany,” you respond, and then the students turn with wide eyes. Right in your direction. You slide down in your chair just a little to alleviate the embarrassment of all eyes on you. 

   Joel turns to you and smirks, his eyes turning darker with every second that ticks by. It’s like he’s staring right through your soul, sucking it out until every single bit belongs to him. 

   “Clever girl,” he whispers. Just loud enough for you to hear because it was meant directly for you, not the class. His eyes flash onyx as he stares your way, heat rising in your cheeks. But in the next second, his eyes are elsewhere. 

   “Could learn a thing or two if you paid attention to your professor in Herbology,” he growls, the closed windows rumbling as his deep voice booms through the large corridor. It’s enough to make goosebumps prickle down the length of your arms.

   The students shake and quiver in their seats, eyes casted down to the dark material of the floor. And in the next five minutes, Joel’s dismissing them.

   “Remember, read chapters ten through twelve before the end of the week. And for the love of Salazar, pay attention in your classes. All of them. Class dismissed,” he clips, teeth bared and jaw clenched.

   The students hurry and filter out of the classroom, black robes flying as they scurry off out of the wrath of Professor Miller. 

   As you get up to make your way out to the hall, he stops you. “Not you.” His deep voice sends shivers down your spine.

   You freeze, just a few feet from the doorway. And then he takes his wand and shuts the heavy doors with a bang that makes you jump from the sound.

   Alone. You’re alone with him. In his classroom, on his free hour. And suddenly, the room is stifling.

   “So. You like to listen in on my lessons now, don’t ya?” he asks, crossing his strong arms over his broad chest, large biceps clinging to the white button-up shirt, his green striped tie loose around his neck.

   “I—uhh.” You’re all of a sudden completely speechless as he stands in front of you, his woodsy scent making you dizzy with need.

   “You don’t gotta play coy, sweetheart. Know you sit out there listenin’ all the time,” he smiles, flashing his white teeth and making you blush at the name sweetheart.

   His Southern drawl always made you a little worked up.

   “Why didn’t you say anything then if you knew?” you ask, eyebrows threaded together, lips pursed tight. 

   “Figured I’d jus’ let ya indulge. If you know what I mean,” he smirks, giving you a seductive wink that sends heat to your cheeks.

   He’s always so fucking cunning. Quick comebacks that could send you down to your knees. Maybe that’s what he wants.

   “You’re unbelievable. You know that?” you spit, hands on your hips, waiting for him to say something smart back.

   “Am I?” He quirks a brow, steps closer where you can practically taste his strong cologne. And that’s it. You’re so done for.

   “Yes.” You stand your ground firm. Eyes icy as you look at his fiery ones.

   Jesus. The man could burn this entire castle down with one stare.

   “How so?” he asks curiously, eyeing you with heightened interest.

   “Why don’t you ask Priscilla? You know, since she’s always hanging around you.” You roll your eyes, shake your head, and throw your hair behind your shoulders with a glare. Like that’ll show him you mean business.

   “Don’t do that,” he says quietly, brown eyes trained on you. 

   “Don’t do what?” you ask, anger boiling on the back of your tongue. 

   “Stop bein’ fuckin’ jealous,” he growls, his large hands hovering over yours, heat simmering between the small space between the two of you. Just like a sweltering sauna. You can practically feel the flames licking at your skin. All over you.

   “Then stop flirting with her right in front of me,” you glower, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. He just laughs at you like you just said the funniest joke in the world. He can’t be fucking serious.

   “You know I only do it to get a rise out of you,” he smiles, painting your cheeks crimson at how smitten you feel when you see that deep dimple appear in the corner of his left cheek when he’s smiling. But nevertheless, he’s not getting off that easy. Not today, at least.

   “Oh, don’t I fucking know,” you scoff, your heel digging into the hard surface of the floor. Showing just how much he’s getting under your skin. 

   “You know, you’re pretty adorable when you’re all flustered. You know that?” He brushes the back of his palm against your jawline, barely touching you but setting you completely on fire.

   You bat his hand away, fix him with a tight-lipped scowl. “Flustered? That’s why you torture me day after day?”

   He nods his head and smirks, letting his big ego fly around the room like a barn owl. “Mhm. Like you all worked up. Probably makes you all hot and bothered, doesn't it? Bet you touch yourself at night jus’ thinkin’ of me.” And there’s that damn smirk. The one that’s got your stomach all tied in knots.

   “You’re such an asshole,” you scoff as you push at his broad chest, but he barely moves an inch. He’s like a thick brick wall that you just can’t seem to penetrate. No matter what you do. 

   “You fuckin’ love it, though,” he challenges, brown eyes turning into dreamy bedroom eyes.

   No, you’re not doing this. You’re not playing his game.

   “No. And I’m leaving.” You turn with the flip of your hair, stomping your way up the row of empty desks. And when your hand wraps around the gold-threaded doorknob, you feel the faint buzz of power permeate around your body.

   “The hell you are,” he growls. “Accio!” 

   It feels like an invisible string wraps around your entire body, and suddenly you’re being pulled back by a sharp tug. Your body whisks through the air, and you have no power to stop the force.

   He snakes his arms around your waist, tugging you against his broad chest, catching you before you go flying into his lavish desk. You gasp, the air knocked from your lungs as his warm breath fans over your lips. Green apples and whiskey serenade your senses, and suddenly you’re a ragdoll in his arms. There at his beck and call, whatever he needs. You’re done for.

   “That’s cheating,” you whisper, voice barely audibly as your throat closes up the closer he brings you against his large body.

   “It ain’t cheatin’. It’s called magic, sweetheart,” he winks, making an exaggerated groan pull from your lips. 

   He’s always so smooth. Like a cold glass of neat whiskey that runs straight to your stomach, ending in your core. 

   “What are you doing, Joel?” you sigh, giving up the fight. You stop shoving against him and relax, your body still against his.

   “Givin’ in,” he smiles, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist, one hand hovering against your lower back. Right at the end of the zipper of your dress.

   “Like you gave into Priscilla?” you spit out, narrowed eyes trained right on him. You’d love to give him a taste of his own medicine one of these days. Drive him crazy like he drives you mad every single fucking day.

   “Now hold on there,” he says with a pause, sliding one of his hands up to your wrist, holding it tight against his chest. “I never even laid a finger on Priscilla.”

   Your jaw drops, and you wag a finger at him. “You sure about that? Because she has a pretty loud mouth.”

   “She ain’t the one I want, sweetheart. And you should know that.” He fixes you with a deep stare. His eyes look like glowing, syrupy orbs. You’re pretty sure you want to get lost in them. Let them drag you down into their dark depths where you’ll never see daylight again.

   “Oh? And who is it that you want?” you whisper, voice suddenly shaky and nervous. 

   When he nods down toward you, you nearly crumble at his feet. “The only woman I wanna be touchin’ is the pretty Hufflepuff that’s all flustered in my arms.” His smile makes you lose your balance, but he just holds you tighter. Fingers curling against the soft cotton of your dress, burning your skin even from the layers that cover you. 

   He might as well cast Incendio on you. You’re already burning.

   “You’re such a tease,” you giggle, pushing him playfully in the chest, letting the soft fabric of his shirt cling to your skin.

   “That I am,” he chuckles, making you nearly hyperventilate at his cocky demeanor. He knows he’s slick; you’ll give him that.

   “I need to get to class,” you sigh, trying to break free of his grip, but he only holds you tighter. No escaping him.

   “No, you don’t. You don’t have class for another hour. And neither do I.”

   The sudden realization hits you like an oncoming train. He’s got you trapped in his web, ready to sink his teeth in you at any second.

   The dim lights seem to darken even more as the thick tension blows through the classroom. Silence takes over, and you’re left with nothing but your racing heartbeat and his shallow breath. Warmth pools through your core as you watch those smoldering brown eyes light your skin on fire.

   You’re wrecked.

   “Well, I just—.” You try to take a step back, but then his hands run down your arms slowly, goosebumps taking hold in every single place he leaves his mark. 

   “Why don’t you jus’ relax here for a bit? Can think of somethin’ to unwind that pretty mind of yours.”

   He starts slowly circling you. Calloused fingers running over your back. Warm breath blowing down the base of your neck. Lips brushing against the shell of your ear, causing you to gasp at the contact. 

   “I don’t think so, Joel. I—.” You stop talking the moment he moves your hair across your right shoulder. His lips drag down the side of your neck, barely grazing but enough to make warmth flood through your lace.

   “C’mon now. Know you want this. Know you want my touch.” He takes a hand and moves it around the front of your waist. “My fingers.” He brushes his hand lightly down your leg, dangerously close to your inner thigh. “My lips.” He molds his mouth around your collarbone and sucks, eliciting a moan from your lips.

   “Oh. That’s… oh.” He nips at your shoulder, pulling your sleeve down just enough to make contact with your skin. And fuck, it feels good.

   You want to run, say no, give him hell for the hell he’s given you. But you’re a moth drawn to the flame. And you have no will to say no to him. 

   “Give in, sweetheart. Give in to the dark side. Know you want to,” he whispers in the shell of your ear, leaving you breathless as the sweet incantations put a spell on you.

   “I uhh—yes…” you lull as he turns you around and pushes you back into the front of his desk. His large stature towering over you. Hands on either side of the desk, caging you into him.

   “Say it. Say you want this. That you want me.” His mouth hovers over yours, blows hot air where you can basically taste the whiskey that encompasses his tongue. And you feel it then. That thick bulge against your thigh. Letting you know just how hard he is for you. And fuck, you think you might pass out from how stifling the room is now.

   “I—.” He slowly cups the back of your thighs and lifts you up, right on the edge of his mahogany desk, legs dangling from the position. He takes his wand and starts spreading your legs until he’s standing between them, one hand skimming over the top of your shaking thigh. Then he throws his wand to the side of the desk, uses his hands to undress you. Starting with your skirt. He lifts it slowly over your hips, leaving you with your white lace panties exposed to the cool air, completely soaked through.

   He rakes a hand heavily down his mouth, eyes wide as he stares at the mess you’ve made. “Look at you. Fuckin’ soakin’ for me, sweetheart. This all for me?” he asks, his thumb brushing over your wet center, pressing against your slick-clothed folds.

   “Yes,” you whine as he slowly unzips the back, pushing the dress down until it’s a messy pile on the floor. He unclasps the matching lace bra, throwing that to the side, leaving your perky breasts on full display for him to indulge in.

   He licks his bottom lip seductively slow, practically drooling as he takes in the sight of you all sprawled out and bare for him. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life than the vision of you open and ready for him.

   His mouth drags down your throat, down your chest until his lips suctions to your breasts, tongue flicking the pebbled nipples, eliciting more slick in your lace panties.

   “Say you want this, sweetheart. Say you want me,” he breathes, slowly dropping to his knees like he’s worshiping a goddess, hands roaming up your inner thighs, teasing you relentlessly. He slips under your lace, one finger brushing over your clit. You’re a writhing mess beneath him at this point.

   “Oh, fuck. Yes. Want you. Need you, Professor Miller,” you mewl, bucking your hips up to get the friction you so desperately need.

   “Good girl,” he praises, slowly dragging your ruined lace to the floor, leaving you open and bare and dripping for him.

   “Fuck,” he curses, raking a hand down his scruff, eyes lust-blown as he takes you in nice and slow. He’s mesmerized by the beauty before him, and he’s memorizing every single detail about your glistening body. He thinks you’re a fucking angel. All pliant and ready for him. He’ll have you screaming his name in no time.

   From the carnal, possessive way he’s looking at you, you’re pretty sure he’ll save this memory for another time. Bottle it up so he can go back and watch it over and over again, until he sees nothing but you with every waking breath he breathes.

   He materializes in front of you, casting dark shadows all over the silhouette of the walls, tongue dragging up your inner thigh, his thumb teasing the outer edge of your drenched folds.

   “Fuck, Joel,” you mewl, bucking your hips up in the hopes of his lips landing on your mound.

   “Patience, baby. And call me Professor Miller. Love how it sounds falling off your pretty lips,” he chuckles, tongue barely scraping over your needy clit.

   You suck in a breath and grab the crown of his head, locking your fingers in his soft hair. Tousled sandy locks and glittering greys catching the light of the twinkling lamps floating in the room. He looks like a masterpiece.

   “Please, Professor Miller. Need you,” you beg, his hot breath fanning across your aching core. You’re burning for him. 

   “Yeah ya do. Dirty little Hufflepuff,” he chuckles, blowing a puff of warmth over your mound. Slick runs down your inner thighs, and his eyes blow into deep pools of black lust. “Think you might have a little Slytherin in you after all,” he smirks, gliding his thumb through your slick folds and eliciting a high-pitched whine from your mouth.

   “Slyther—ohhh,” you groan as he licks a thick stripe up the entirety of your core. 

   Suddenly, the room is spinning, and you can’t find your balance. You’ll just fall off the edge as long as Joel catches you. You think he will.

   “That’s right. Take it. Let the temptation consume you. Let me slither in and make you come undone,” he drawls out in a husky breath, making you moan at the sound of his deep timbre.

   It’s like you’re cast under a deep spell. Pulling you under, consuming you in copious amounts of pleasure, starlight flashing as your eyes roll back with every flick of his tongue to your puffy clit.

   He tugs you to the very edge of the smooth desk and wraps his arms tightly around your thighs, stretching you open as he ravishes and drowns in the slick of your core. His experienced tongue lapping at your folds. His lips suction around your mound as he pulls you into his warm mouth, sucking and groaning with every taste of you. 

   You drag your nails over the wooden desk, throwing your head back with every lick, every taste he gives you. And God, you feel like you’re flying. His mouth, his tongue, his dirty words, his whole entire aura make you want to lose control. He’s everything all at once, and you don’t know how you’ll ever get enough of him now. 

   He coaxes you on, filling your ears with delicious praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl. Yeah, you like that. Don’t you, filthy Hufflepuff?”

   “Yeah…” you choke out, voice raspy as you delve into the feeling of his smooth tongue igniting a wildfire in your core.

   “Don’t be shy then, sweetheart. Let me hear you,” he demands as he lets go of your puffy clit with a pop, his tongue generously lapping at your drenched folds.

   “The door—we can’t…” you whine.

   He lifts off his knees, hovers his body against yours, and starts to work you as he slides his middle and ring finger inside your dripping hole. 

   Oh, fuck.

   “Door’s locked tight, sweetheart,” he smirks, lust-blown eyes locked on you, his lips brushing over yours.

   “They’ll—ohh. They’ll hear us.” His free hand slides up your waist as his body leans against the desk, his mouth roaming up the crook of your neck.

   “Nah, they won’t. Not when I placed a silencing charm on the room,” he chuckles as his tongue traces the slope of your ear, sending more slick down your thighs.

   Of course he fucking did. You didn’t even hear him cast one. He’s just… that good. 

   “C’mon, messy Hufflepuff. Want you to come for me,” he drawls, his fingers tantalizing and penetrating as he works them nice and slow inside you, knuckles deep in your slick. 

   Fuck.

   Squelching noises fill the room each time he works you over, searching for that one spot that’ll send you over the edge. But God, he found it. And now, he won’t fucking stop hitting that spongy wall that makes your legs shake and voice cry out in orgasmic pleasure.

   “Joel, I’m…”

   “Professor,” he whispers in your ear, his enchanting voice floating through your mind, pulling you over the edge. 

   “Professor—” you hum, your fingers pushing through the sandy hair at the base of his neck, mouth dropped as pleasure starts to rock through you uncontrollably.

   “Yes?” he asks with a bite to his deep voice.

   “I—I’m…”

   His plush lips caress the shell of your ear, his teeth nipping at the delicate skin. “Come for me, pretty girl. Say my name. Tell me who makes you feel good,” he whispers deliciously slow, his melodic voice making you fall apart. “Let go. C’mon, baby. Do it for me.”

   One more curl of his fingers and you’re coming undone. You clench around his thick fingers and let yourself spill for him, covering his knuckles in your slick while you moan his name. “Professor Miller!” It falls off your tongue and rings around the room, echoing back as you lose all control.

   “That’s my good girl,” he praises as he takes you over the edge, slowly working his fingers up and down, letting you ride out your orgasm as tidal waves collide in your body. 

   When the room stops spinning and your vision isn’t blurry anymore, you sit back and stare at him in awe. He’s got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, obviously proud he made you just cum on his fingers. He’s waited so long to do it. All while teasing and tormenting you so he could make it that much better for you. 

   You should hate him, but you don’t. Oh no. You think you’re addicted to him now. 

   “That feel good?” he asks. His palm sliding over your thigh, thumb massaging slow circles into the crease of your skin. It feels… good — calming.

   He feels good.

   “Yeah. That was—nice,” you finish, eyes peeking up at him through your eyelashes. His eyes are nearly dazzling under the dim lights. Almost like there’s stars soaring through those gold-flecked irises. 

   You stare at each other for a minute, sitting in comfortable silence. And in the next moment, without thinking, you’re grabbing his emerald tie and pulling it toward you. Heat rises in the air as your fingertips scratch down his patchy scruff, indulging in his woodsy cologne. Your lips graze just slightly against his, and flames erupt in his eyes. 

   “Haven’t had enough?” he teases as he pulls your hair softly, lifting your face up to his. His lips brush softly against yours, and it’s like everything seems right in the world. 

   Your breath comes out hot and uneven as you stir beneath him, one arm snaking around the back of his neck. You haven’t tasted him yet, and you’ll be damned if you don’t take this chance. 

   You lift your chin just a smidge higher until you’re practically magnetized to him. “No, Professor Miller. Haven’t had enough yet,” you mewl out, your head dizzy and disoriented.

   He cups the back of your head and smiles, that devilish smirk curling against his mouth. “Then let me show you jus’ how good a Slytherin can make a Hufflepuff feel.”

   He pulls your lips to his and kisses you fiercely, passion consuming you whole. You kiss him back just as desperate, needing to be as close to him as possible. When you open your mouth and invite him in, whiskey and green apples envelop your tastebuds. And you swear you’ve never tasted a better combination. 

   As he pushes you down against his desk, papers fly off in scatters, glass crashes to the ground. Never mind that, he doesn’t even seem the least bit bothered. Right now, all he’s focused on is you. 

   He crawls over you, crowding you with his broad body, his hands roaming up and down your bare skin as if he wants to crawl inside himself, claim you as his own. 

   You frantically pull at his buttons while he helps you unfasten them, quickly throwing his shirt off and tossing it to the side. Dark hair splatters his tanned chest, his happy trail disappearing beneath his black slacks. And God, he’s as hard as a rock underneath. You can see the massive outline of him. 

   He rocks his hips against yours, tongues tangling together as you drink each other down. You could get drunk on the sweet taste of him. You’re pretty sure he’s better than any butter beer you’ve ever tasted. 

   Your body hums with desire, tension coiling in your stomach. You want him, need him like you need air to breathe. You want to feel him inside you. Grinding and thrusting until you combust around him. Until you feel his seed drip down your thighs. You’ve never wanted it this bad with anyone. But with Joel? You’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

   “Professor Miller, please,” you beg as you palm him through his slacks, an audible groan getting lost in between kisses. 

   “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Wanna hear it,” he slurs as he nips at your lower lip.

   You find his top button and snap it open, finding his zipper next as you drag it down slowly. “Want you inside me, Professor,” you whisper provocatively, leaving your shyness behind just for the moment. 

   He winces as you reach in and start to work his massive cock up and down, spreading precum down his shaft. A quiet groan slips out of his mouth, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. “Fuck me. This little filthy Hufflepuff wants it bad, don’t she?” he grins, eyes dancing like moonlit stars. 

   He’s so fucking pretty. 

   “Mmm. Yes. Please. I need it. Need you,” you beg. 

   He shoves your hand out of the way and pins it above your head, shoving his slacks and boxers down until he’s completely naked above you. 

   You gawk at how massive he is. Thick, beautiful, long. Precum beads his swollen red tip. Large veins spiral like vines on the underside of his cock. He’s so big; you don’t know how he’ll fit. But you know he’ll make it fit. Stretch you until you can’t take anymore. 

   He’s going to absolutely ruin you, and you’ll let him. You want him to destroy you. 

   He lines the angry tip up with your sex, stroking it up and down along your folds, gathering your slick on his cock as you purr at the feeling. If this feels good then being inside you might end you.

   “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Gonna take real good care of this pretty Hufflepuff pussy,” he smirks darkly, eyes as black as coal. 

   He teases you slowly, dragging the tip through your folds. And when you’re about to beg for more, he thrusts deep inside with a low growl. 

   Your mouth drops open in awe as he stretches you to the max, working his thick length inside you over and over again until you start seeing stars in your vision. He’s so fucking big it feels like he’s splitting you in two; his pleasure driving yours to the finish line. 

   “Professor,” you moan as he thrusts deeper, kissing the back of your cervix. His large hands push your legs back against the wood of the desk, in a twisted pretzel shape. And when he snaps his hips again, you let out a guttural moan that doesn’t even sound like your lilty voice. 

   “That’s it. Let me hear you. Look so pretty with my cock deep inside you,” he chuckles as he drills into you as deep as he can, digging his way to your release. 

   “I—I…” Your voice fades off into a garbled mess as he fucks you relentlessly, speeding up his thrusts until the desk is shaking beneath you. 

   The squelching noises of his cock sliding in and out of your slick and the deep, gruff groans coming out of his mouth are almost barbaric. He’s completely wrecked just as you are. Two souls enchanted to run away in the darkness. Get lost in the indescribable pleasure of each other.

   You feel yourself nearing another climax as he licks his tongue inside your mouth, meeting yours in a dance you can’t stop. He swallows your moans with each snap of his hips, his fingers toying with your overstimulated clit until you’re gasping for breath underneath him. 

   He disconnects from your lips and stares at you with pitch black eyes, ready to consume all of you. “That’s it. That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Come on my cock. Let me feel you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. And the sound of that deep, melodic tone makes you want to spill right then. 

   “I—Professor Miller. I’m gonna…”

   He drags his tongue along the edge of your ear and leans in close, his voice like silk. “C’mon, beautiful. Let go. Trust me. Feel me. Squeeze me. Show me how much I make you feel good. My pretty little Hufflepuff. My girl…”

   That right there sends you over. One more press of his thumb to your clit and you’re falling off the edge. It’s like a choir of angels surrounds the dark ceiling, your ears ringing as you cry his name at the top of your lungs. You can’t think, can’t speak. You can only writhe beneath him as you come back down to earth while he calls you a good girl over and over again. He could say it a hundred times, and you’d never tire of it. 

   “Fuck. That’s my good girl,” he praises, fucking into you harder. His breath ragged and untame. His curls stick to his sweat-coated forehead, his black eyes widen, and you feel him start to fall apart. 

   “I’m not gonna fuckin’ last much longer, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” he asks breathlessly. 

   “Inside me, Professor Miller,” you beg. At the sound of his name, he throws his head back and groans loudly as he spills his warm seed inside you. Painting your walls white with the Slytherin essence of him. Claiming you as his own. 

   He falls on his back against the side of the desk and pulls you tight against his chest. And then the two of you just breathe each other’s air until one of you is strong enough to push up from the dark mahogany desk. You’re the first one to move. 

   You quickly throw on your dress and cast a charm to freshen up. You don’t need your students knowing what you and the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor have been up to.

   Just as you start to smooth your hair out, you feel Joel brushing up against your back. His woodsy scent slithering its way down your spine, encapsulating your entire being as you start to fall into a deep trance again. You lean back and let him wrap his strong arms around your waist, his tempting lips kissing their way down the column of your neck. 

   “What are you doin’ later tonight?” he whispers smoothly, lingering his lips over your smooth skin. You feel his smoldering brown eyes piercing right through you, starting a fire deep in your core.

   If he doesn’t stop, you’ll end up right back where you were just seconds ago. On your back with Joel fucking Miller hovering over your body. Pulling you apart thread by thread. And you’d let him. God, you’d burn down this entire room and let him fuck you through the flames that licked at your skin. You’d burn for him.

   “Was going to lesson plan and maybe read a book,” you gulp as he spins you around, your speech suddenly slurring as he tempts you with dark eyes. Eyes that’ll swallow you whole.

   “Well, how ‘bout you lesson plan from my bed?” He quirks up a thick brow and plants a smug grin on his plush lips. Lips that taste like firewhisky. 

   “I don’t think I could get anything done there,” you laugh, a crimson blush staining your cheeks.

   “Not lesson plannin’, no. Maybe we could open the Chamber of Secrets. Get you moanin’ and speakin’ in tongues before the night is through,” he smirks devilishly, licking his bottom lip enticingly slow.

   God, he’s such a tease. 

   “You’re a bad, wicked man, Professor Miller.” You shake your head and fold your arms over your chest, taking a step back until he wraps a big hand around your wrist and pulls you back into his broad chest.

   “Don’t you forget it, baby,” he chuckles, fanning his hot breath over your lips. Drawing you in like a moth to a flame. 

   “You’re going to make me late for my next class,” you sigh, letting him gather you in his arms as his warmth consumes you. 

   “Then be late…” he whispers, brushing his lips over yours. Damn him and his plush, tempting lips. He tastes better than any sweet treat you’ve had in Hogsmeade.

   “You’re a bad influence on me,” you tsk, throwing your arms around his neck. Screw it. You’re already hooked on him. Might as well just give in to his lustful temptations.

   “Tryin’ to be,” he chuckles as he brushes a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, lingering the back of his hand against your jawline. The tension suddenly thick around the dimly lit room once again. But really, it never left in the first place.

   You graze your lips against his and give him a lasting kiss, fingers tangled in the messy curls you so desperately love to lace your fingers through. It feels like velvet as the silvery strands comb through your fingers.

   You disconnect from his mouth and smile sweetly up at him, pushing off his strong chest. “Okay, handsome. I gotta go.”

   “See you tonight, pretty Hufflepuff.” He lingers his calloused fingers around your wrist and holds you there, just so he can memorize what you look like under the moonlit lamps of his classroom. He thinks you’re absolutely stunning.

   “Pretty, huh?” You give him a shy smile and feel your cheeks growing bright red.

   He nods, brown eyes alight with wonder. “Baby, you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

   Oh.

   “You’re not so bad looking yourself, handsome,” you smile as he brings your hand up to his lips, placing a swift kiss to the top of your knuckles. And there you go blushing again like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

   “Careful now. Start talkin’ like that, and I’ll jus’ have to make you mine,” he warns with a smirk, the crow’s feet making his eyes sparkle like onyx crystals as starlight dances across his pretty eyes. 

   “So make me yours…” you whisper, hand dropping to your side. 

   He chuckles and shakes his head, back of his hand skimming down your blush-coated cheek. “You’re already mine, beautiful girl.”

   “Yours…” you repeat in awe.

   “Mmm. Mine.” He lets you backup a couple steps, reluctant to let you go just yet. “See ya tonight, baby.”

   As you pace back to the door and hover your hand over the golden handle, you turn back to him and smile. “Try not to think about me too much until then, Professor Miller.” 

   He rakes a hand slowly through his tousled curls, adjusting his loose tie around his neck. “Oh, babygirl. That’s the only thing that’s gonna be on my mind till I see you.”

   His brown flecked eyes hold yours for just a few seconds and then you turn and walk out of the room, leaving behind the troublemaker that’s got your heart racing a million miles an hour. 

   You’re thoroughly, completely enraptured with Professor Miller. And you fear you won’t be able to get enough of him. 

   As you walk down the now stirring hallway, dodging chatty students, you think of those captivating dark eyes. Those smoldering, beautiful eyes. Just a few more hours until you’re in his arms again, until he’s making you come undone all over again. 

   You’d let him unravel you. Make you his with every touch, every kiss, every breath. You never expected to fall for a Slytherin but here you were. Tripping and stumbling to get one more taste of him. 

   You’d never get enough. This Hufflepuff belonged to a Slytherin now. Professor Miller. The bad boy who got the good girl. 

   He was your Amortentia, and you were his.

[pickingupmymercedes]

She's here and so are we - Lewis Hamilton

Series: She's here and she's ours / She's here and she's not only ours / She's here and she's just like you / She's not here, but she'll be / She's here and she won't be the only one / She's here and he won't let her give up / She's here and so is he / She's here and so are we - (they can all be read as one-shots)

and also

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Hold You ’Til We’re Old - Jamie Miller

pairing: dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: fluff (hi anon, hope it's okay it got turned into part of the series)

wordcount: +2k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The garden was our familiar comfort—the same space where I’d spent mornings wrapped in cozy blankets, watching the dew settled on the grass while Lewis brewed us coffee and the kids played with the fallen leaves.

Today, though, I was just part of the background, watching the interview crew ask questions to capture his life beyond the race track.

My hands rested on our son’s shoulders, guiding him gently as he, along with our daughter, marveled at the cameras and microphones around us. It was surreal to have such a production here, yet oddly fitting, considering what they were here to capture.

Lewis looked as calm as ever, answering each question with that steady warmth that drew people in, that quiet power that had captured me all those years ago.

Our daughter whispered a question, pointing to a light rig, and I leaned down to explain it, eyes drifting back to Lewis as he spoke. I always watched him in moments like this, still finding comfort in the way he held himself, how he could be so genuine while still keeping parts of himself just for us.

Then the interviewer’s question caught my attention. “What’s the one thing you look forward to most after a race weekend?”

I held my breath. This was a question I thought I knew the answer to, but there was always something Lewis held close when it came to our family.

He paused, just for a moment, then his eyes found mine, as if he knew I’d be there waiting for him. His answer slipped out softly, almost reverent, “Looking at my kids smiling with their mom.”

My heart fluttered—so simple on the surface, yet layered with a truth we both knew well.

There’d been a time when he would come home and look for comfort in the silence, when we both struggled with the life we were trying to build, each compromise a little harder to make.

Now, I saw that quiet devotion in his gaze, in the way his eyes softened as they settled on me, our children pressing closer, oblivious to the weight behind his words. I felt it though—a silent promise wrapped in his expression, one that told me everything about the life we’d built.

He could have said anything to that question, mentioned the thrill of racing or the next grand ambition, but he named the anchor to his world, the small joys that kept him grounded.

The camera kept rolling, capturing every angle of him, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the man behind that poised exterior. I was caught up in the meaning behind his words, holding onto that look he’d given me, the one that said, This is what it was all for.

It struck me that even amidst his schedule, the travels, the appearances, this was still his sanctuary. The life we’d fought to make ours wasn’t glamorous in these quiet moments, but it was the life we had both committed to fiercely, with the kind of compromise that spread into every part of our world.

It was here, with these two tiny humans clinging to my side, that I felt the gravity of his answer.

And for just a second, I let myself feel that same quiet joy, breathing in the love that had brought us to this garden today, to this shared life where even the simple things—our children’s laughter, the warmth of his gaze—meant everything.

There was a time when our life wasn’t set among the quiet, leafy gardens of London, but rather in the glassy, sunlit confines of Monaco.

Our daughter’s first years had passed in those winding streets, the towering buildings casting long shadows over a sea so bright it almost didn’t look real. Back then, we thought that place would be ours for the long run—our home, near enough to Italy for Lewis’s trips to Maranello and close to the lives we had already built around friends and routines.

But everything changed the day I stepped into one of the most prestigious schools in Monaco, searching for the right environment for our daughter to grow.

It was beautiful, clean, full of polished smiles and refined children already groomed for the spotlight of high society. It should have felt like the obvious choice. But that cold, hollow feeling settled in, whispering not here.

Our children were already set to inherit a life of privilege, of course, but it was my job to keep them grounded, to make sure they understood that money was more than a shiny accessory.

I wanted their world to be honest and I didn’t see that in those classrooms. I could see there a future where they’d learn, all too early, that wealth and status were expected.

And for me, that was a line I couldn’t cross, not with my kids.

Lewis familiar hum caught my attention later that day “You’ve been quiet. Did something happen at the school?”

I nodded slowly, not sure where to start, but feeling the weight of it all pressing on my shoulders. I leaned against the countertop, glancing at our daughter, who was sprawled on the living room rug, humming to herself as she colored. Lewis followed my gaze, waiting.

“Do you know what she asked me?” I began, voice barely above a whisper. “She wanted to know when she’d have the same backpack as the other kids.”

His face softened, but I saw the concern tugging at the corners of his mouth. I tried to explain, each word slipping out with a mix of frustration and sadness.

“I thought we could keep things balanced, but... all around her, it’s luxury stacked on luxury. And she notices it now. But she’s only four, Lewis.”

He looked at me, his gaze steady, understanding. “She’s going to notice, love. Not just here—she was bound to ask these questions sooner or later.”

I nodded, knowing he was right, but feeling the ache deep in my chest. “I know. But it’s different here. There’s a way of seeing the world, of measuring everything by what you own, what you show off. I don’t want her to grow up thinking that’s all there is.”

Lewis’s hand found mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “So… what are you saying?” His tone was gentle, but I could hear the undercurrent of hesitance, like he was bracing himself for whatever I’d say next.

“I’m saying I don’t think I want our kids growing up in this world where every kid’s playdate is at yacht. It feels… it feels like we’re setting them up to believe this is the only way life should look.”

There was a quiet pause, just us standing there in the dim light of our kitchen. I could see him processing, wrestling with the idea as much as I was.

Moving wasn’t a decision to make lightly. Monaco had been our sanctuary, the place we’d spent our earliest years as a couple, and later as parents, shaping our life around the rhythms of this sunlit, gilded place.

“I know it’s not easy for you.” I squeezed his hand, feeling the weight of my own words. “It could mean more travel, more distance between you and the team, but…” I trailed off, meeting his gaze, hoping he’d see what I was trying to say. “If it means they can grow up with some perspective, if they can have a life that feels more grounded, isn’t that worth it?”

He took a long, steadying breath, his eyes lingering on me with that familiar mix of patience and resolve. “Tell me where, and I’ll be there”

It was like a knot loosening in my chest. Relief and guilt, the kind that came from knowing I was asking him to compromise once again, to give up a part of the life he’d built here in Monaco.

And yet, he was willing, just as he’d always been, his love for us steady and unwavering.

As we stood there, holding hands in the kitchen, our daughter’s voice piped up from the living room, a cheerful melody completely unaware of the weight of the moment. I looked at Lewis, a slight smile breaking through my worry.

“Maybe she’ll thank us one day,” I murmured, half to him and half to myself.

He pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Maybe. Or maybe she’ll hate us for leaving her beach.” His laugh was soft, almost tender, but I could feel the underlying sorrow in his voice, the same wistfulness that was twisting my own heart. “But we’ll be alright, won’t we? No matter where we are?”

I closed my eyes, letting his words wash over me. “Yeah. We will.”

Even now, the memory of that decision lingers as one of the most defining moments of our relationship. It was an understanding we didn’t need to speak aloud. It was a compromise, one made out of love, out of that shared desire to give our children a life that wasn’t built on empty expectations but on the foundation of our family.

And through it all, Lewis was beside me, offering me his full trust, making me feel that I was as much a part of his heart as he was of mine.

It was never about leaving Monaco; it was about coming home, about stepping into the kind of life where we could nurture the values that mattered most.

We left so many memories behind in that sun-drenched city, but the life we’ve made here, in the quieter outskirts of London, is what we always wanted—a place for us to be a family, a place where Lewis could come back from the intensity of the race weekend and find his sanctuary.

It was a slower life, with longer flights for Lewis and new routines for the kids, but it was ours. And every day, I saw Lewis come home and breathe it in, appreciating the calm and balance we’d made for ourselves. This was a place for us to be real—a grounding place.

The interviewer’s voice tugged me out of my thoughts, her question like a thread pulling me back to the garden. To the moment. To Lewis.

I watched as he smiled softly, the kind that barely reached his lips but brightened his eyes in that way only few knew. The interviewer had asked him to elaborate on his answer, the one about looking forward to seeing his kids smiling with their mom.

Lewis glanced at me briefly, that silent look of his that said so much without saying anything at all. His gaze flickered back to the interviewer as he started, his voice a bit lower

“This place, this home… it’s our safe place” he began, sweeping a hand around in a quiet gesture. “Here, I get to be more than just the guy who races cars or shows up on red carpets. This is the place where our kids get to be themselves.”

He paused, looking past the camera to where our daughter was intently studying the sound equipment, her fingers itching to touch, her eyes wide with curiosity. I watched him as he continued, his tone warming with each word.

“Our daughter” he said, smiling a little wider, “She’s eight now, and is this fiery little force with questions about everything. And I get to see her—really see her—growing into that, with no hesitations.” He turned, his gaze landing on our son, who was contentedly mesmerized by vintage film. “And our son, just turned five” he continued, “he’s got this beautiful imagination, always thinking, always figuring things out his own way.”

Lewis shifted his attention back to me, his voice softer now. “And then there’s Y/n, who’s been my anchor in this crazy life. She’s the boss everyone knows not to cross, but she’s also the one I watched become this incredible mother. And she’s… everything.”

I felt my throat tighten; the weight of his words heavy in the air between us. His gaze lingered, finding mine again, and there was this unspoken understanding, a language we’d built over the years, through the early days in Monaco to the quieter, slower moments here.

Then, he turned back to the interviewer. “At the end of the day,” he continued, his voice thicker “after everything in the paddock and the cameras, the fame—it’s this. Coming home and seeing my family gathered in the kitchen, making pasta, spilling half of it on the counter because we’re all too distracted laughing. That grounds me. It’s what I look forward to after every race weekend. It’s what I look forward to for the rest of my life, really.”

He let the words settle, his gaze steady and unflinching, the weight of a promise within them. I wanted to hold onto this moment, to keep it folded in the corners of my mind for years to come, a reminder of what we’d built, what we continued to build every day.

Just as the interviewer started to move on to the next question, our daughter, who had been unusually quiet, perked up, her voice carrying over the garden and picked up by the microphones.

“Daddy,” she asked with her usual matter-of-fact tone, “if you’re so fast in the car, why don’t you ever win races at home? Like… when we race from the kitchen to the garden?”

There was a beat of silence as Lewis, and everyone around, blinked, caught off guard by the sheer innocence and brilliance of her question. Then he let out a laugh, the kind that rumbled deep from his chest, full and unrestrained.

He leaned forward, catching her gaze, his voice still light with amusement. “You got me there, bug. I guess that’s one race I’ll never win.”

She nodded, satisfied, and scribed down something down on her notebook. Leaving us all grinning, her question a reminder that in this home, we could be anything—parents, playmates, family.

Whatever challenges would come, whatever paths we’d still have to navigate, I knew that this—our love, our family—was the heart of everything. And no matter how many times we might leave this place, or come back to it, we’d carry this feeling with us.

For as long as we had each other, we’d always be home.

______________________________________________________________

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[transmascutena]

some thoughts on photography and memory in utena:

on the wall in nemuro memorial hall, there are pictures of real people. i'm not sure who they are, but i assume they're of people involved in making the show. either way, they're obviously not real; in the close-up shots of them, they change into pictures of the black rose duelists and other imagery from the show. i imagine it's there as a fun detail by the creators, but also to show how weird and inconsistent reality itself is in the black rose arc.

as for the black rose duel images themselves, it's possible that they are literal as i've talked about in a previous post, but what i think is more likely, is that utena noticing them is a visual representation of her connecting the dots of what's really been going on in this arc.

when mikage brings up the idea of memories and eternity, we see the picture on the wall behind utena, of her at her parents funeral. and behind mikage we see one of his own defining memories.

a pretty clear line is being drawn between memory and photographs. in fact, memories are so important to mikage that photographs are his black rose duel symbol. it's the one he keeps of mamiya and tokiko, altered to look like anthy's disguise, just like his memories are. through mikage we see both how memories of the past can keep you trapped in it, as well as the malleability of these memories. let's look at everybody else:

saionji has a framed photograph of him and touga as kids on his desk. he values their friendship, or at least the memory of how it used to be. he idealizes the time touga was less cruel (or maybe just the time saionji wasn't aware of his cruelty.)

miki doesn't have any literal photographs of kozue or the sunlit garden, though his memories of them are often framed as such. he also keeps a picture of anthy amidst his sheet music. she is his idealized memory now.

juri has the locket of course, inside of which is a cutout of shiori from a picture captured in the moment that ends up defining their entire relationship. is this the version of shiori that juri idealizes? not really, but she is fixated on her resentment of shiori's percieved cruelty, just not the cruelty of taking the boy away. juri keeps this photograph closer than anybody else does with theirs, but she also keeps it hidden. this could mean she treasures her memories the most out of everyone, and is also the least open about it, although i'm not sure i believe the first part.

nanami has the photo-album of her and touga; she idealizes her relationship with him, as well as their childhood. when she makes the connection that touga is adopted, the photos are scattered all over her bed, probably to represent her emotional state.

touga doesn't keep any photographs from what we see, which makes sense with everything we know about him. unlike the rest of the council, he doesn't have any idealized memories of his childhood. but he does use akio's camera, so let's talk about that.

the camera is, much like the car, a tool that only akio is shown to own (although, wakaba does mention a photography club in episode 34.) like the car, it is used to facilitate his grooming (specifically of touga and saionji when he takes those shirtless pictures with them.) and, also like the car, he offers to lend it to touga, to make him feel more like an equal part of the whole thing. unlike the car though, touga accepts the camera.

the photoshoot scene in episode 37 has a transition where the camera shutter sound effect is played over the previous scene. over the shot of utena and anthy holding hands after confiding in each other about akio. i think it's to show that he's always watching, and that they can never truly be free of him as long as they're in ohtori.

i think it also shows the idea of akio framing the narrative of the show as a whole. he plays a sort of director role in it, in that he directs the events happening, as well as how they're portrayed. it's no coincidence that he is quite literally behind the "camera" in episode 33. like the car, a symbol of akio's power and sexual abuse (which is not-coincidentally also present in all of the photoshoot scenes,) his camera (his narrative, his biased framing of events) is ever-present.

and then there's the most important photograph in the show, the frame it all ends on. the picture utena and anthy took together is, unlike every other photograph, used as a look into their future. the reason they take it in the first place is because utena realizes she has no photos of anthy, which distresses her, presumably because she worries that their friendship might not last forever, and she wants something to remember anthy by. this obviously comes with the risk of making anthy an idealized memory, like every other person put in a photograph in this show, but instead it ends up as a symbol for their love. akio may have set up the camera, but anthy (with the help of chu-chu) manipulated their positions so her and utena could hold hands. she also cuts akio out of the frame, much like she cuts him out of her life in the last episode. she doesn't want his presence to tarnish her and utena's memory anymore (although he isn't completely gone from the photograph either, as he will never truly be forgotten.)

[thesunisatangerine]

playing for keeps – chapter two

alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader

warnings: coarse language, brief mentions of grief

(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two, three]

word count: 10.2k

[1]

A shiver ran down your spine in spite of the sun’s anger that bored down on you. 

You wiped your free hand on your jersey but sweat clung to your hand like glue, yet your fingers remained cold, even the ones on the hand your mother was holding. It didn’t help that your gut had coiled into a knot that you couldn’t loosen; you’d breathed deeply, you’d counted backwards from ten… and still, it remained there.

What was it about this that scared you so much? 

The fear sprung in you the moment you stepped foot out of your home, growing the more you got closer, and now that you and your mother were walking across the parking lot to the building, it threatened to claw its way up your throat. And that was something you really didn’t want to happen. 

You gripped your mother’s hand tighter. She gazed down at you with a soft look, giving your hand a slight, reassuring squeeze, and that was enough to ease that feeling a little bit. 

The door creaked long and loud when your mother pushed it open, reminding you of that old, unused shed by the garden at home that made the same sound when you entered it, and it reverberated against the walls. No one was inside except for an empty desk in front of a wall with chipped, white paint. Just beside that, there was a corridor lined with a few doors, some of which were opened. And at the end of it there was an opening that led to the sunlit grasses of the outside.

At the sound, the head of a woman popped out from one of the open doors. The woman came out, a water bottle in hand which she set on the desk, and she greeted you and your mother with a friendly smile. Even still, you took a step back and hid behind your mother.

“Hello! I’m sorry for making you wait! How can I help you?”

“No need to apologize, we just came in.” Your mother laughed as she waved a hand in the air. “My daughter is actually here for her first day of training with the club.”

“Oh, is she?” The woman gasped and clapped her hands together in delight. She beamed down at you and stooped low to offer her hand out, and then she cooed, “Hello, love, I’m Teresa.”

Heat rose to your cheeks as you took her hand and shook it, telling her your name in a whisper. Teresa smiled at you again before she straightened her back. 

“I’m so glad you got here just then. We don’t usually get people around this time so we tend to lock the front door, and I was about to head out back to bring the girls some water.” She explained to your mother and then she gazed back down at you again. “Are you excited to meet the girls?”

At your silence, your mother answered for you, “She is, it was all she could talk about. She’s just a bit shy.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, love. The girls are just as lovely. Will you be joining us?”

“Are parents allowed to stay?” When Teresa nodded with a hum, your mother continued, “I see. Perhaps another time. I have somewhere to be.”

“We could schedule for another time.” Teresa nodded in understanding before she regarded you again, “Now, shall we meet everyone?”

Fear rose in you again and your eyes darted to your mother’s. There, you found an encouraging light that grounded you and without really intending to, you agreed with Teresa. Shortly after, your mother left but not before she told you, “Now, my little firecracker, you behave yourself. And remember, have fun and show them what you’re made of.” 

Something akin to fire lit up in your chest at your mother’s words, and its warmth spread all the way to your fingers and toes. It was a soothing calm similar to the one you’d get from a cup of warm milk and honey in winter. And when she pressed a goodbye kiss on your forehead, a sense of safety blanketed over you even long after she’d left. 

Teresa took your hand after she locked the front door, and occupied the other with holding the rack of water bottles, and she led you down the corridor. As you passed through, it became clear just how tiny the facility actually was but it held everything that you needed; Teresa had pointed and named the areas with a jut of her chin: the toilets were here, the nurse bay just beside it, and the lunch room was just across. 

“It isn’t much but it’s home for the club.” Teresa smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. And her eyes were clouded with an emotion that made you feel a sudden urge to hug her. The emotion passed quickly and in the next moment, you found yourself surrounded by heat as you stepped down a threshold that led you outside. 

Squinting and putting your free hand over your eyes, the sight of the field came into focus. It was surrounded by a metal, wire fence, and its entrance opened up at the end of this path you were on to the middle of the nearest sideline. Through the fence, girls of seemingly different ages ran about in one half of the field, shouting and laughing as they passed balls to each other. And you found your nerves returning but it was soon replaced by giddy anticipation. 

You and Teresa were close enough now that your presence drew the attention of the girls. Upon catching the sight of you, they stopped and stared. And even from a good distance away, the weight of their eyes pressed on you and heat rose to your cheeks again.

A shout and a clap made the girls whip their heads–as well as your own–towards the direction of the sound. It came from a woman who said something to the girls you were too far to hear, but by the end of it, the girls resumed their training as if they never stopped. 

From the lack of attention, you sighed out a breath. 

Then the woman began her way to the sideline just as you and Teresa arrived there. Teresa set the water bottle rack down by her feet while your eyes wandered over from the walking woman to the other girls. For the most part, they all looked the same age and height, but a few towered over the rest with their great build and height, and that did nothing to quell your brewing fear. There was only one girl that was smaller than everyone else, younger too, whose height looked to be similar to yours. 

The girl was last in the line she queued for and as she stood there waiting for the ball, she had her head turned over her shoulders to look at you. She had short hair held back by a headband, and her shirt ballooned at the waistband of her shorts, which fell all the way down to her knees. Instead of fear, an urge to greet her rose in you, but as you raised your hand to wave at her, she whipped her head back to the front just in time to receive the next ball that was passed to her. 

“Ah! Our new addition to the family is finally here!”

The exclamation had you turning yours to the front, and you found the woman there with both hands planted on her hips. She towered over you–like most adults did but she was taller than most–and the angle made the fine lines around the corners of her eyes and lips look deeper from the harsh sunlight. Her blue eyes were light, inviting and warm, and they held a calming force that reminded you of your mother’s. When she stuck out her hand, you noted the way her skin clung to the surface of her flesh, almost translucent in the sun, but you found yourself unafraid to shake it immediately.

“Welcome to Sabadell Girls’ Football. My name is Catalina but you may call me Madam Cata. Remind me again, how old are you, little one?”

“I just turned eight.” You said, and you nearly forgot to add, “Madam.”

Madam Cata’s smile brightened and, to your surprise, she let out a small laugh. At her amusement, you found yourself smiling, too.

“Very young, indeed. Well then, I’ll take you from Teresa to meet the rest of the girls.”

Your heart jumped at the thought and you turned to Teresa. She must've seen a hint of your apprehension because she gave you a soft, encouraging smile and said, “You’ll be just fine. You’ll see.”

Somehow, you believed her. So you nodded and thanked her, and with another smile and a wave of her hand, she left you with Madam Cata who began to lead you away with a gentle hand against your back.

After you’d crossed the small distance from the sideline to the middle of the field, Madam Cata called out to the girls. They gathered and now that they were closer, your shoulders curled inwards under the weight of their stares, and you kept your eyes down at the red laces of your boots, which your cheeks and ears probably resembled now as they heated from the attention. 

You felt the weight of Madam Cata’s hand on your shoulder. 

She was smiling at you and then she said softly, “Don’t be afraid, little one. These are your friends and sisters. Go on. Tell them your name.”

Finally, you looked at the girls. And as if drawn by a force, your attention immediately locked on that girl, and for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, a sense of calm washed over you. 

The girl stared at you like the others did, but it was different. It wasn’t a look you found to be negative, more curious and attentive. Her head was tilted slightly to the side as if the change in angle would help her figure you out. She wasn’t quite smiling or frowning; she impressed you with a leveled attitude, an expression you typically saw on people who were significantly older than you, and you were surprised to see such a face worn by someone as young as the both of you. 

Her eyes traced an invisible path along your face all the way down to your boots. She was sizing you up, you knew this. You’d played enough games at recess and after school to know how kids scrutinized each other for weaknesses, but you felt it wasn’t the same with this girl. Her gaze was more appraising than critical, as if she was imagining how you would affect the team. You could almost see her calculations playing like a movie above her head and you barely stopped yourself from giggling at the image. 

She must’ve seen your amusement because she straightened her head in attention, and her brows knitted to a slight frown. The change should’ve given you grief but it only made you all the more interested to get to know her for reasons you couldn’t quite understand. There was just something about this girl… something that you wanted to discover. And so, right there and then, you decided that you were going to befriend her. 

Feeling a bit better, you finally introduced yourself with a wave to the others before you locked your gaze on the girl again.

The girl’s frown deepened. 

Your smile widened. 

“Now, girls, introduce yourselves.” Said Madam Cata. 

And so they did. 

A couple of the older girls gave you a smirk that reminded you of the older cousins you’d see at family gatherings, or the boys at school who thought you were easy picking whenever you played with them. The rest looked friendly and introduced themselves with a pleasant smile and a wave.

It was the girl’s turn now.

“Hi. I’m Alexia and I play as a midfielder.”

Alexia. Somehow, the name suited her just right, like she was born to be one. The fact that she was the only one who stated their position wasn’t lost to you. It was an assertion–a claim–and this again should’ve intimidated you but it only made you smile. 

Now that introductions were done, the girls dispersed as per Madam Cata’s instructions. 

“Alexia. Come here, my child.” Madam Cata called out which stopped Alexia from running away with the rest. She froze midstep, her eyes darting to you then back to Madam Cata, before she reluctantly turned and shuffled until she was beside the woman. 

“Seeing as the both of you are the closest in age, Alexia, I’d like you to make her feel welcomed.” Madam Cata began, placing a hand on Alexia’s shoulder, and then she continued, “You two are the youngest in the club and I have high hopes that you two will become friends.” 

Madam Cata smiled at you, then to Alexia. “What do you say, Alexia?”

Alexia said nothing and only stared at you. You stood your ground and stared back, waiting for Alexia’s move. In this moment, doubt crept in and your resolve wavered. Were you mistaken? Did she really not like you? She hasn’t even given you the chance, yet… You thought in disappointment. 

And then Alexia, instead of replying to Madam Cata, stuck out her open hand to you. “Let’s go?”

You couldn’t help it. You grinned.

Giving Madam Cata one last look, you took Alexia’s hand. It was sweaty and warm, and her grip was gentle. And then she was pulling you forward, easing you both in a run. And as you took off hand-in-hand across the yellowing grass of the field, Alexia turned her head to you and a tentative smile crinkled the corner of her lips, and you found the rest of your worries melting away.

You squeezed her hand, smiling.

And, this was the best part:

She squeezed your hand back. 

[2]

By the end of the day, Alexia’d introduced you to everyone, and all the other girls had warmed up to you, including the ones who’d intimidated you at first. Alexia may be young, but you saw how the other girls respected her. Despite this, Alexia remained sincere and kind, and this fact made your admiration for her grow

Training-wise, Madam Cata separated you from the rest at first, testing your stamina and evaluating your technical skills before she eventually let you join in on the 7-a-side matches that ended today’s training. You were slightly disappointed that you didn’t end up on the same team as Alexia, but it was fun defending against her. To your surprise, it didn’t even bother you that your team lost. Maybe it was because you got to witness Alexia shoot the winning goal, but of course you kept that information to yourself. It was late afternoon when you finished, and all the other girls had been taken home by their parents, except for you two.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait inside, girls?” Miss Teresa called out from the front door. 

Alexia shook her head to answer for the both of you. 

“We’re fine here, thank you.”

“Alright. Just stay in sight, okay?” 

The both of you called out in agreement and finally satisfied, Miss Teresa returned back to her desk. There were two large trees that flanked the path towards the front door, and under their shade were benches built to wrap around their bases. Under one of those trees, you and Alexia waited for your parents to pick you up. 

You kicked your feet in the air as they hung from the bench, relishing the way the cool breeze soothed the heat around the new bruise you got on your shin. 

“The bruise is getting bigger.” Alexia muttered. She’d taken off her headband and you noticed how short her hair actually was; only the front had enough length to fall over her face, parting in the middle to reveal her eyes. Apples were high in her cheeks and the remaining sunlight that filtered through the leaves played on her skin, and made her hazel eyes look lighter, almost green. She twisted her fingers as her lips curled into a regretful pout. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kick you.”

“Hey, come on, it was a game. It’s fine.” When the pout didn’t leave her face, you knocked your knee against hers and added, “It looks kinda cool, don’t you think?”

At that, an amused smile replaced Alexia’s pout. “Only you would think a bruise looks cool.”

“I’m different like that.” 

“Sure, you are.”

“I am. Why else are you talking to me?”

Alexia rolled her eyes and then she laughed. 

“What time are you getting picked up?” 

You looked at your watch.

 “My mom should be here any minute now. What about yours?” 

“Soon as well,” Alexia answered after she peeked at your watch. And then, she asked, “Do you live nearby?”

“No, I live in Mollet.” 

Alexia squeaked and at the sound, you looked at her and found her eyes were delightfully wide with surprise. “You do? I do, too!”

“Really?” You gasped, mirroring her in your excitement. Elation filled you at the prospect of Alexia living so close. Imagine the sleepovers, the after school football games! “Where do you live? What school do you go to?”

But when Alexia answered you and you recognised that the places she named were on the other side of town, you pouted in disappointment. When Alexia asked you what your face was about, you told her where you lived and your school, and then Alexia started pouting, too.

“I wish we lived closer. We could play football after school!” 

“Yeah! And you could stay over! Or maybe I could?” Alexia whined. “Why do you have to live on the other side of town?” 

“If I could drive a car, I would come over all the time!” You imitated holding a steering wheel, and you blew air through your lips, imitating an engine. 

Alexia slapped your arm, laughing. “Are you speeding? That’s illegal! If you drive like that, I’ll never get in the same car as you!” 

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically. “I won’t speed just for you.” 

“That’s comforting.” Alexia quipped dryly. “No, but I’m serious. I’ll ask my parents if I could stay the night some time. You should do the same!”

“I will. My parents will probably say yes as long as your parents are alright with it.” 

The sound of gravel being disturbed drew both of your attention. A car and a truck parked in the space in front of you, and you recognised the car to be your mom’s. 

“My mom’s here. Is your–”

“Papá!”

Alexia jumped out of her seat and ran towards the other car, a truck, whose door opened to reveal a man, Alexia’s father. He was tall, like really tall, towering over the truck next to him. He had long, loose gray pants on that stretched all the way up to his chest; the upper part reminded you of a bib, and the white shirt beneath was covered with what you supposed to be car oil—your own father had come into the house with the strange scent and feel of it enough times for you to know the look of it from a distance. There was some of it on his cheeks as well, but Alexia didn’t seem to be bothered by it, for she immediately jumped into his arms, and he, with a cheerful laugh, lifted his daughter up with a small grunt.

You smiled at the sight. 

Seeing as Alexia’d gone to her father, you went ahead and did the same, jumping off the bench to meet your mother as she got out of her own car. 

“How was your day, my little firecracker?” Your mother asked after she’d greeted you with a kiss on your cheek, running her hands over your forehead and temple to wipe away the remaining sweat there.

“It was really good, Mamá! I made a friend! She’s over there. Look!” 

In your excitement, you tugged on your mother’s hand and pointed her over to where Alexia and her father were, only to find Alexia doing the same with her father.

Your mother laughed. “I see you’re very much alike, the two of you.”

And then, your mother waved at Alexia’s father, who waved back, before she began to walk over where they were, and you trailed behind her. She was probably going to talk to Alexia’s father, and you were excited to spend just a little more time with Alexia.

Alexia shoved her bag inside the truck before she ran to you. When she stopped right beside you and looped her arm around yours, you told her, “Your father’s so tall.” 

“He is, isn’t he?” Alexia beamed at you, pride in her voice as she looked at her father. “Is your father tall?”

“Yes, but not as tall as your dad.” And then a thought struck you as you looked back at Alexia. There was Alexia’s father, and here was Alexia. “You know, you look like your father.”

“Yeah, I know. People say it all the time.”

“And you don’t get sick of it?”

She looked at you with a confused frown. “No, why would I be?” 

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I’m not really sure why I asked that.” 

Alexia just smiled at you and asked, lowering her voice with mischief.  “What do you think they’re talking about?” 

She’d begun to shuffle forward, taking you along with her because of your linked arms, and now you could hear their conversation.

“–you and your family come over for dinner. I’d prepared so much tonight in celebration of my daughter’s entry to the club. I don’t think we could handle all the food at all.” Your mother laughed, and then she added, “We could also discuss the arrangements then.”

You turned to Alexia with wide eyes and met her gaze, which brimmed with excitement. Turning back to Alexia’s father, you willed him to say yes.

Alexia’s father scratched the back of his head, his other hand on his hip. “We’d love to come over. That is, if you don’t mind having a five-year-old over, of course.”

“No, we don’t mind at all! Please, do come over.”

“Okay, then I’ll tell my wife. What time should we head over?” 

“Nine should be fine.”

Alexia’s father nodded, and that was that.

You couldn’t hold your excitement any longer. You spun to face Alexia, grabbed her hands and both of you squealed. Laughter came from the direction of your parents, but you paid them no mind because all you could think about was that Alexia was coming over for dinner. 

“All right. That’s quite enough girls. Say goodbye now.�� Alexia’s father said with a light voice. “You’ll see each other again later.”

Alexia nodded, and then soon she was hugging you. “Bye, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Alexia.” You said, lifting your chin off her shoulder before you let her go and took your place at your mother’s side.

“Alright, Jaume, it was nice meeting you.”

Jaume, so that was Alexia’s father’s name. Jaume waved his goodbye to the both of you with a smile on his face, and then he and Alexia drove away.

On the way home, up until Alexia and her family got to your home, you were practically buzzing with excitement. You ran up to your room to bathe, changed, ran back down, and even then the clock’s hand was still not pointing to nine. 

“Honey, you peeking out through the window won’t make them get here any faster.”

A sigh escaped your lips, and pushing yourself off the window sill with a huff, you whined. “When are they getting here?”

Your mother laughed at that. “It’s only ten past eight, my love. Go to your father and help him. Maybe time will pass quicker that way, no?” 

Dragging your feet with another sigh, you made your way to the kitchen. Your father had his back turned to you when you entered through the archway as he busied himself on the kitchen counter. He stuck his hand into the bag of flour in front of him, and he spread it all over the counter, which caused a plume of white to rise in the air.

“Can I help?” You asked, shuffling closer so that you were beside him. There was flour everywhere on his side of the counter, while two empty baking trays were lined up in front of you. “What are you making, Papá?”

“This, my love, is pan de payés.” He lifted the tea towel in front of him to reveal four domes of raw dough, their surfaces taut with tension. He looked at them, and with a proud nod, he said, “Go wash your hands and help me with them.”

You did, and as you dried your hands, you asked, “Why are you making them? Don’t we have enough food for tonight?” 

“Why, they’re for our friends, of course. You wouldn’t want Alexia to leave here empty-handed, would you now, my love?”

Heat rose to your cheeks as you shook your head.

Your father smiled down at you with warmth. “Of course you wouldn’t. Now here, I’ll prepare this first one; you watch, and I’ll let you do the rest. How does that sound?” 

You nodded, and you watched. He carefully placed a dome of dough in the centre of the floured space, then took another pinch of flour and sprinkled it over the dough, before lightly running his hands over the surface to spread the flour evenly. He took out his bread lame and ran the blade over the surface of the dough, creating four gashes that intersected to form a diamond, and then he placed the dome on one side of a baking tray. 

You did as he did, albeit slower, and with the patient guidance of your father. After your father put the trays in the oven, the heat of it filled the space with warmth and light. As the two of you looked on at your work, your father began, “Remember this, my love. Food is an extension of our feelings and identities. It fills us, it sustains us, and it connects us. It makes us remember. When you eat your mother’s cooking, what do you feel? What do you think about?”

You didn’t even need to think; you answered immediately. “Warm. And I think about home, Mamá, and you.”

Your father smiled. “Good. Now, what do you think Alexia would think about if, say, she ate a piece of this bread for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Us?”

He hummed, and then a small laugh escaped his lips. He bent down slightly so he could tap your nose with his finger. “It’s going to be you, my love. How nice it is to be thought of, especially by a new friend, hmm?” 

You giggled, but a familiar warmth surged through you at the thought.

A knock resonated through the house, and you gasped, looking at your father in excitement.

“Ah, our friends are here. Go on, now.” Your father tilted his head in the direction of the front door, a half-smile on his lips. You gave him a hug, and you sprinted towards the door, only slowing down when a “No running, please!” resounded from the kitchen. 

“Oh, she’s so cute!” You heard your mother’s coo, and when you turned the corner, you saw her fussing over a little girl balanced on her father’s hip, while Alexia’s mother laughed warmly at your mother’s attention, and finally, you spotted Alexia looking up at her sister being pampered with a smile curling her lips.

You walked over to them.

“Ah! My daughter’s finally here.” Your mother placed a gentle hand behind your back. 

“Hello.” You greeted Alexia shyly, eyes fleeting from Alexia’s parents to her sister, then to Alexia herself, who was smiling at you. You stepped up to them to shake their hands, introducing yourself to them, and they did the same to you. You learned that Alexia’s mother was named Eli, and her little sister was named Alba. You offered your hand to Alexia as well, with a playful smile. Alexia caught on, and she giggled before throwing her arms around you.

“Isn’t she a dear? Oh, they seem so close already!” You heard Eli say it with a clap of her hands.

“Believe me, Alexia was all she could talk about the whole night!” 

Your cheeks heated when Alexia laughed against your ear at what your mother said, but in the end, you decided you didn’t quite mind. 

“Hello, welcome to our home.” Your father finally stepped out of the kitchen. He walked up to Jaume, shook his hand, and stooped down to press his right cheek against Eli’s. He cooed at Alba the same way your mother did, and he gave Alexia a wave. “You all must be hungry; please come join us in the dining area.” 

Once the lot of you moved to the kitchen, the evening progressed quite quickly, as it usually did when you were having a good time. Your parents got to know each other after they initially took turns talking about you and Alexia. They laughed and got lost in their conversations, while you and Alexia busied yourselves with Alba, helping her with her food, and who, after finally warming up to you, revealed herself to be a bundle of energy. 

At one point, the conversation moved to the living room, and this was when you and Alexia snuck out to the backyard. Alba’d fallen asleep not long after dinner, and she was safely pressed against Eli when the both of you took off. You’d lead Alexia to your favourite spot; it was a swing that hung from a branch of a sturdy tree, and this was how you found yourself pushing Alexia gently as she sat on it, her hands around the ropes of the swing.

“Why do you play football?” Alexia asked, breaking the silence. 

“How do you mean?”

“Like, are you only playing it for fun? Or, are you serious about it?”

You hummed as you pushed her. “I’m not sure yet. But, sometimes, when I’m in school, I find myself daydreaming about it.”

“That’s the same with me. It’s all I can think about. I dream about it, too.” 

“You’re serious about it.” It wasn’t even a question; you could hear it clearly in her voice. But she turned her head, and the look she gave you all but confirmed it. 

“I am,” she breathed out. “I really am.” 

You gave her another push. “Where do you want to end up?”

“Barça.” Her answer came quickly, like she’d thought it all through. And then she added, “One day, I’ll play for them.”

The conviction in her voice was enough to electrify you with a surge of inspiration, and as you pushed her on the swing, you had no difficulty believing that it would come true. Like Alexia said, it was only a matter of time.

One day.

You smiled, even though you knew she couldn’t see it. 

“I can see it, Alexia. And I know you’ll look great in scarlet and blue.”

[3]

“Yes, Mamá, I got it. Actually, can you text me the list?” 

“Ah, daughter of mine, have you taken so many balls to the head that you can’t even remember two things?” At your mother’s irritated response, a laugh bubbled from your throat.

“Actually, yes, Mamá. Probably a thousand by now. And I was joking, come on.” You waved back at a woman who thanked you as she crossed the pedestrian lane, and then you continued driving. As you turned the corner, you asked, “Why do you need so many drinks anyway? Are you having a party? You know I can’t drink during the season, right?”

“My girl, you have too many questions. Just make sure you come home in time, okay?”

“Yes, Mamá.”

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone. Have fun at training and give Alexia a kiss for me.”

The sentence made you tense, and you had to will your hands to loosen their grip on the steering wheel. You loved your mother, but there was no way in hell you would do that, even for her. 

You swallowed, hoping your apprehension wouldn’t show through your voice. “Okay. I’m going to go now. I love you. Tell Papá I love him, too. And Nona.” 

“I will. They’re very excited to see you. And I love you, too, my little firecracker.” 

Just as you hung up the phone, you turned the corner and found the parking lot of the Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper. You parked your car and took out your gym bag. The sun was high enough to blind you, so you put a hand over your eyes, and you saw the tall building that sported Barça’s logo. And as if you were greeting an old friend, you whispered, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Hello!” 

A cheerful voice addressed you from behind. You turned back, and you saw a woman of slight build, shorter than you, with short brown hair that curled just behind her ear. Some locks fell on her temple and covered her left eye, and the sun made her hair look golden. She was wearing loose, off-grey high-rise pants and a black long-sleeved turtleneck that accentuated the curve of her body.

She was beautiful.

And she was also Tori Favaro, the top-scoring forward for Roma last season and the fourth candidate for last year’s Ballon d'Or. Also, the other half of Barcelona’s new transfers this season.

Of course, you knew about her.

“Hey, Tori,” you said with a smile. 

She was now in front of you, and she grinned, which revealed the dimple in her left cheek. “I didn’t think you’d remember me!”

“How could I forget? The only other time I met you, you gave me a hard time!”

“You’re telling me! We couldn’t get past you at all! The fact that the only goal we got that day was from our own goal is still a bit embarrassing.” She laughed, followed by a sigh–wistful. The two of you walked towards the entrance of the Gamper. “I can’t believe that was more than ten years ago.”

At her wistfulness, you couldn’t help but recall the memory as well: FIFA U17’s World Cup, when Spain and Brazil clashed during the knockout stages. Tori was relentless in her attack, and you barely saved the balls that managed to get past your defenders. Even then, you—and everyone who had eyes—saw her potential, and now look how far she’d come; she was very well on track to getting a Ballon d'Or, and she was never more in her prime than now. 

“Is there any chance of you representing your country again now that you’re back in Barça?” 

“I’m not sure. I’ll just make my decision when they call me up the next time.” You shrugged, hefting your gym bag over your shoulder. The sudden urge to change the topic rose in you, so you asked quickly, “How are you finding Barcelona so far?”

Thankfully, Tori took the bait, and you happily listened to what she had to say about your city as the both of you walked through the lit, pristine corridors of Gamper, which, as you noted in passing, were strangely barren, as you reacted every now and again to whatever Tori said, even recommending her places worth going to. 

As Tori pushed the door to the locker room, a frown crossed her face, and she looked behind her. “Where is everyone?”

“I don’t–”

“Welcome to Barça!” Came the unified greeting and the cheers that suddenly erupted. 

A sign that read the same thing with the letters in alternating scarlet and blue, accented by some yellow hearts, was held between Marta and Alexia while the others stood in a semi-circle, clapping and hooting. A cake was on the centre table, and just behind it were piles of folded fabric, which you recognised to be yours and Tori’s set of training kits. Beside you, Tori wore the same expression on your face: mouth agape, eyes wide in pleasant surprise.

The semi-circle dispersed, and the next thing you knew, you were being hugged, patted on the back, and chatter filled the room.

“Look who’s back! Barça’s prodigal daughter finally returned home!” Mapi shouted, arms thrown up in the air, before she grabbed you by your shoulder to pull you into her.

“Don’t act like you missed me, asshole.” You laughed and punched her arm when she pulled away.

Mapi cradled her arm like you’d just injured her, looking at you with a look of exaggerated pain. She gasped, “Violence, already? Is that how you treat a teammate? I won’t stand for this. Alexia! Captain!” 

At that, you sidestepped around Mapi, but not after sticking your tongue out at her, as you navigated through your other teammates who welcomed you. You managed to get to the edge of the crowd, just at the end of the locker room, and that was when you saw Alexia with Tori. You were close enough to hear snippets of their conversation.

“–expect me to go easy on you.” Alexia said with a laugh, hands on her hips.

“Of course. Just because you’re my–”

An arm wrapped around your shoulder and a presence pressed up to your side. 

“So, did you get me Christen’s signature?” Patri’s voice filtered through your ear. 

You hissed through your teeth, your voice gravely low. “You know, I did ask her. She just doesn’t want to give it to you, dude.” 

Patri looked at you incredulously. “Wait. What do you mean?” 

“I’m not sure.” You shrugged, placing your gym bag on the nearby bench. “Did you say something to her the last time you saw each other?”

“Dude, the last time I saw her was what?” Patri frowned and blew air through her lips. “During the SheBelieves Cup? What–”

Grinning, you pulled something out of your bag and revealed it to her. Delight filled you upon seeing Patri’s eyes widen in recognition, her gaze fleeting between your face and down to the jersey. 

“Oh, you cheeky bastard!” She took the jersey from you, held it up in front of her to appreciate the signature down in the middle, and she embraced you with a force that made you grunt out a laugh. “Thank you!” 

A voice broke the two of you apart.

“Easy there, Patri. Don’t break any of her bones, please. She hasn’t even begun playing yet.” 

It was Alexia. 

Your heart lurched.

Patri looked at you, then at Alexia, and she put her hands up in surrender. Patri gave you one last knowing look—something that you tried hard not to think about too much—before she gave a two-finger salute to her captain, and off she went, leaving you alone with Alexia. 

“Hey,” Alexia greeted you and stepped into your space, arms wrapping around your shoulders. You tensed for a moment before you remembered to relax, snaking your own arms around her chest. “Now, I’m a bit jealous. Where’s my present?”

“I think I happened to spy it on your wrist, or am I just going blind?” You hummed. When you pulled away, you took her left hand and lifted it up. “Oh, look! There it is!”

Alexia threw her head back in laughter. 

The sight, like always, made you feel warm.

“So, I suppose you like it?” You couldn’t help it; shyness bled into your tone, and you only hoped that Alexia didn’t hear it.

“I love it. Thank you. It suits me, doesn’t it?” 

And though the silver band of the watch glinted around her wrist as it caught the light when she lifted her wrist to the level of your eye, you appreciated the way the golden flecks in her eyes shone despite the blue tint from the fluorescent lighting. 

“I’m glad you like it.” You said barely above a whisper, and you berated yourself at the softness that lingered there, but the way Alexia’s eyes became unfocused and lidded, as if she’d thought of a memory, made the slipup almost worth it.

Almost.

“Alright, good morning, everyone!” Jona’s voice pierced through the chatter, and everyone stilled, apt with attention, before sitting down on the bench. Alexia, Irene, and Marta remained standing but kept mostly to the sides. He, and two other assistant coaches, stepped into the room with their clipboards and folders in hand.

You shared a look with Tori. She snuck you a thumbs up, and you pressed your lips together, fighting a grin. 

“First of all, welcome to our new transfers.” A round of applause went around. Jona faced Tori, and he continued, “Tori, thank you for joining us. I hope you’ve settled yourself in the city, and we really look forward to playing with you.”

“I’ll do my very best to help our club. Visca Barça!” At the latter, hoots and claps erupted.

Jona laughed, but when he motioned for everyone to calm back down, the locker room grew silent again.

“And of course, this woman needs no introduction. Barça’s very own Wall has returned.”

Heat rose to your cheeks as cheers erupted once again. And it didn’t help that Alexia was looking at you with something akin to pride while clapping her hands, a soft smile on her lips.

“It’s great to be back, Jona. And like Tori, I’ll do my best to keep our club moving forward.” You caught Alexia’s eyes. “It is home, after all.” 

“It is home, indeed. Well, put your training kits on and meet us down at the fields. The rest of you, please head on over to Pitch 9.” 

Jona and the other coaches filed out. Alexia followed along with the rest, but not before giving you another look. You stared long after she’d gone, not knowing Patri remained in the changing room and saw the whole until you found her with a look of disapproval clear on her face.

She sighed, shook her head as she got up, and left.

Tori was there, too, and her eyes flicked between the door and you, then to the door again, and you could almost see the questions forming in her mind. You quickly took your training kits and entered one of the changing cubicles to spare yourself from any more confrontations. 

[4]

Training went relatively well. For the most part, anyway.

You were with the team for the warm-ups before you were separated—along with the other goalkeepers—for technical training, and then Jona called all of you back for some 5-side matches. 

At one point, your team went against Tori and Alexia’s team. They’d linked up, the two of them, keeping their touches to two at most. They were close now, and Jana was just barely holding Alexia at bay. You spotted Tori’s signal from the corner of your eye, but you needed Alexia to commit to a pass. You kept your weight on your toes. With a body feint to the left, tapping the ball to the right with her outer foot, and a quick cutback to the left, Jana was defeated, and Alexia kicked the ball.

Now!

You sprinted forward to the left, where you knew Tori was, and you leaped. The ball stuck to your gloves mid-air.

“Holy shit!” It came from a surprised Tori. 

You would’ve laughed, but you spotted an unmarked Caro who was making a run for it. You wound your shoulder back right after you landed on your feet and released the ball before Tori and Alexia could even think to get back. 

It sailed right on over to Caro, and she brought it down with her chest. Ingrid was on Caro all at once, but Esmee surged forward to follow a diagonal path from behind Caro, asking for the ball, and it only took one moment’s hesitation from Ingrid for Caro to make just enough space for her to shoot.

The ball went past the nearest post, and you pumped your hand in the air. When Caro saw you with her arm around Esmee, she gave you a thumbs up, and you returned the gesture with a clap.

It was nearing midday when all of you’d cooled down and headed to the gym. On the way inside, Tori ran up to you. 

“You nearly took off my head there.” She said, just slightly out of breath as she patted your back.

“I was going to tell you, ‘Heads up!’, but that would’ve ruined the surprise now, right?”

“Remind me not to play opposite you again.” She joked. “I forgot how aggressive you play. And I think you’ve only gotten worse!”

“It comes with the title.” You said, winking at her.

“Does it now?” She said it dryly, squinting at you. And then the both of you parted ways for your respective workouts.

It was going relatively well, but at one point, your attention moved to Alexia without meaning to. Alexia stood watch over Tori, who was lying down on the bench and lifting, attentive, and they conversed with a familiarity that transcended more than that of acquaintances. And you knew, then, that they’d probably hung out outside of sporting functions.

For some reason, the sight made you ache. 

Then a sigh came from somewhere beside you. You turned and found Patri there with her levelled expression, but her eyes were knowing with the way they looked at you. She tilted her head and patted your back before making her way to the exit. You hesitated for a moment, but, as if it had its own volition, your body stood up and followed her out to the sunlit pitch. 

Patri was further away now; she hadn’t stopped walking, and you had to jog to catch up with her. It took a moment, but you finally matched her stride, and without even looking at you, Patri began, “How are you?”

You stuck your hands into the pockets of your shorts. “Fine.”

Patri hummed, obviously unconvinced. She took a breath and let it out loudly through her teeth. Your shoulders locked at the sound, and you prepared yourself for the weight of whatever she was about to say. 

“I saw you looking at her,” Patri said, straight to the heart of the matter, and your body coiled tighter with tension. “You went through all that trouble. Yet, you’re back here again and still not over her. In fact, I think you’re—” Patri sent you a look, though this one fleeted so quickly that you weren’t able to decipher it. She blinked, returning her gaze forward. “Never mind.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course, it fucking does!” Patri exclaimed. “You were doing better! And then you ghosted me for months. The last time we talked, everything was going well with—"

“Don’t.” The word came out firm—a warning. “Patri, please, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Patri’s voice softened. “So... something did happen.”

“Patri. Drop it.”

Patri stopped walking just several metres away from the gym tent; you’d finished a lap around the pitch. She frowned at you, and you were ready to fight back if she insisted on talking about it, but she shook her head, and the frown melted away, and in its place was a look of pity.

“Okay. I hope you know what you’re doing. Just ready yourself.”

A pause and a hesitant look flashed through her face. But Patri was a good friend because she was direct, almost callous in the way she called everything as it was, and it was something you’d always liked and admired about her. Now it was no different because she said, “I think you know yourself already, but I just thought I’d let you know. Alexia has a girlfriend.” 

Despite yourself, your heart dropped. And you ached.

Oh.

Patri must’ve seen something on your face because that pitying look deepened with a hint of sympathy. She patted your back gently before she headed back in. You breathed deep, and it came out shaky, but you steeled yourself as you parted the entrance to the gym. 

Alexia’s laughter filled the air, drawing your attention immediately. And there she was in the same spot, holding onto Tori’s shoulder for support, bent over in her amusement, while Tori looked at her with a dimpled smile. 

You turned away.

[5]

A grunt escaped your lips as you got out of the car, your muscles bearing a pleasant soreness. You turned your headlights off and parked in front of your parents’ house. It was later than you’d expected, but the additional technical session and the meeting with Jona caused you to be one of the last ones out of the Gamper. 

With the cake and drinks you promised your mother to get in hand, you knocked on the door and waited. There was a lone light that filtered from the living room, which you found a bit odd, but tiredness won out, and you decided to pay it no mind. Maybe your parents were just relaxing on the couch. 

No one answered. 

Frowning, you placed the drinks on the porch step, and you balanced the cake on one hand as you opened the door with your key. 

You let yourself in, and the hallway was dark.

“Mamá? Papá? Where–”

The lights in the hallway and the kitchen flashed on in quick succession, nearly blinding you.

“Surprise!” The resonant cheer came, and the cake box jumped in your hand, nearly slipping. 

You found your mother’s face first, and you laughed, “Oh my god!” 

“Welcome home, my love!” Your mother embraced you, and you barely had enough time to angle the cake away and put the box of drinks down so she could do it properly. You leaned down, and she placed a kiss on your cheek, and then the other. 

“Hello, Mamá.” You muttered, closing your eyes, soaking in her presence and the peace that came with it. Oh, how you missed her. Another pair of arms wrapped around you; it was your father’s, and suddenly heat rose to your eyes at the warmth that seemed to blanket over you, both inside and out. 

“Let me grab that for you, my love.” Your father said, taking the cake box from your hand, but not before kissing your temple as a greeting. 

When you pulled away, you saw it wasn’t just your parents there. There were Eli, Alba, and Alexia, with little Nona in her arms. Nona’s white coat was a stark contrast to the dark shirt that Alexia wore. There was a tender smile on her lips, her eyes almost wistful as she caught your gaze. And could you really blame your heart if it ached beneath the weight of her gaze?

“Oh, sweetie, have you grown taller?” Eli asked as she stepped into you, hugging and kissing your cheeks like your mother did. 

“I’m not sure about that, Eli.” You giggled into her ear. “How are you?”

“Growing grey hair, love. You went away, and I had no one else to keep Alexia in line. Alba doesn’t help; in fact, she encourages her sister’s wiles, and Alexia does the same. Partners in crime, these two!” 

Alba’s laughter resonated in your ear when you hugged her next, and you chuckled at the exasperation in Eli’s voice. Alba retorted, “Má, how else could we keep you on your toes?” 

“I’d very much not want to be kept on my toes. Thank you very much.” 

“Eli, I’m sure Alexia couldn’t be that bad. She’s always been a good girl.” At that, you caught Alexia’s gaze with a smirk. Her eyes twinkled with recognition, probably remembering what the both of you got up to behind your parents’ backs. She shook her head slightly, mouthing, ‘You’re an asshole.’

You gave her another smirk before you added lightly, "Alba, on the other hand...”

You didn’t even finish the sentence before you got a well-deserved punch to the arm from Alba herself—a punch you knew would surely form a bruise. Cradling your sore arm, you yelped, looking at Alexia for help.

“Alba, please don’t injure our new goalkeeper. We need her.” Alexia said calmly, and you looked at Alba triumphantly. Alba opened her mouth to protest, it seemed, but Alexia cut her off. “There’s no need for that. I’ll just ask Jona to make her do some extra laps during warm-ups in our next training session.”

“Yeah, that’s right—hey!” Realising what she said, you scoffed while Alba threw her head back, laughing. Alexia’s lips were curled up in a satisfied smirk, looking much like someone who’d gotten the last word. 

“Ha! That’s what you get—” 

Eli cut Alba off. “That’s enough, you three. I swear, when you’re together, you act like you’re all still ten!” 

“It’s a bit endearing, though, isn’t it, Eli?” Your mother laughed, putting a placating hand on Eli’s shoulder. “But Eli is right. We should take this all to the dining table, no? The food is about to grow cold.”

[6]

In the two years you lived in the States, you spent most evenings alone, and the food you’d cooked from the recipes you took with you never tasted like home. It’d been so long, you nearly forgot how filling food should be—both in mind, body, and spirit. But now, in the presence of your family, with their love laid out in front of you—your mother’s arrós negre, Eli’s fricandó, and your father’s pan de payés—with their laughter and their warmth, you were finally filled again. 

You ate mostly in silence, soaking in the scene and the ruckus with a smile, and the detail of that one empty chair wasn’t lost to you either. The reminder drew your attention to Alexia. She’d tied her hair in a low ponytail and left two locks of her hair to frame either side of her face, which made her look all the more beautiful. In this light, Alexia’s image seemed to split in such a way that you could almost feel a presence in that empty seat beside her, looking on at this scene as you were.

Grief gripped at your heart, but love was quick to soothe the pain with its gentle caress. 

The minutes flew by, and many times you caught Alexia sneaking peeks at her phone, sometimes even texting while she wore a tender expression. If anyone saw it, no one called her out for it—well, maybe except for Eli, who, upon spotting her daughter on her phone, gave her a reprimanding smack against her arm, followed by a hissed scolding. Alexia looked so much like a child just then, with her wide eyes, that you nearly spat out your drink. She caught you staring, and she squinted her eyes. To that, you blinked innocently at her, curling your lips slightly to let her know you saw the whole thing. 

“So, are you in a relationship, dear?” Eli’s unexpected question made the water go into the wrong hole, and you spluttered. Alba patted your back while Alexia eyed you with concern and curiosity. Eli asked, “Are you okay, love?”

You gave her a thumbs up.

“Alright. Where was I? Right. Being in America for two years, surely you must’ve met someone.”

After composing yourself finally, you answered, “No, I’m not, Eli. I’d been so busy that I had no time for it, really.”

“What? A pretty girl like you all alone? I don’t quite believe that!” Eli exclaimed. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you with anyone.”

“Apart from that poor boy... What was his name?” Your father added. He snapped his fingers. “Ah! Guille! Nice boy, he was. Where is he now anyway?”

“We were never together, Papá.” For some reason, you felt the need to clarify that. “And he’s in London, finishing his PhD at York.” 

“Wow, that’s amazing. And I never knew you kept in touch.” Your mother’s brows shot up in surprise, and you thought you heard a hint of awe in her tone. Teasingly, she said, “Are you sure you’re not seeing him?”

You sighed internally, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You smiled and said, “Yeah, sometimes. I haven’t seen him in a while, though, but the last time we talked, he and his girlfriend were looking for a new apartment.” 

“Oh, he has a girlfriend, does he? That’s unfortunate.” 

“Not for me. I’m glad he’s happy.” You shrugged before you sipped your water.

“Are you waiting for someone, maybe?” Alba teased, wagging her brows.

You tensed, and you'd paused too long, it seemed, because Alba gasped. 

“Oh, she is! Who is it?” 

“Alba,” came Alexia's warning tone.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m just excited.” Then Alba sighed dreamily, “I just think it’s kind of romantic.

You could feel the weight of Alexia’s eyes on you, but you dared not look up. You kept eating.

No. It wasn’t romantic. 

It was painful.

[7]

After you helped clean up despite your mother’s insistence not to, and after an hour of sitting in the living room conversing, the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with you. You needed to be alone, so you took little Nona from your lap and into your arms and snuck out into the garden. The light that streamed out from the living room was adequate enough for you to spot your old swing. You went to it, and, after inspecting and deeming it fit to take your weight, you sat on it and began a gentle rhythm, running your hand over Nona’s head, who purred at the attention.

The sound of grass being disturbed pricked at your ears, and you knew it was Alexia even before she spoke.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

You turned your head to the side where Alexia’d rested her back against the tree trunk, half of her face bathed in the incandescent glow of the living room light. You hummed in answer.

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You’re on your swing.” Alexia spoke as if that fact held the answer to your question. “You used to come here and sulk.” 

You scoffed. “I didn’t sulk.”

“You did. You’re doing it right now!” Alexia teased.

“Now I am because you’re bothering me!” 

“Fine, I’ll leave then.” 

You knew Alexia was joking, but when she made an exaggerated move to leave, you spoke softly, “No, stay. Please.” 

Alexia froze, and after a moment, she leaned back on the tree again. 

“I’m sorry about Alba if she did cross a line.”

“She didn’t; don’t worry. Thank you, though.”

“Are you sure? You seemed uncomfortable.”

“I was uncomfortable because I happen to not like talking about my love life.” You said, a bit defensively. “Wouldn't you feel uncomfortable too if I started grilling you about who you’re with right now?” 

Alexia remained silent. You huffed, “Exactly.”

A silence settled in the air. 

You gripped the rope of the swing, and the texture felt off. You inspected it; the rope was new.

“Yeah, uh, I had them replaced.” Alexia admitted, and when you faced her, she was rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “I kind of broke it when I was here last.” 

Another pause. “I hope you don’t mind. Sometimes, I like to come here to think. Plus, I get to visit your parents and Nona, so, yeah.” 

“No, of course I don’t mind. This is your home as much as it is mine. We’re family.”

Alexia opened her mouth while a hurt look flashed behind her eyes. She seemed to change her mind because she closed her mouth and bit her lip before she eventually said in a hoarse voice, “Yeah, of course.” 

Alexia was standing right there, but you’d never felt farther from her than now. There was a rift between you, but it was only you who could see it—you could feel it widening and deepening. Maybe Alexia could feel it, too, but you were sure it wasn’t like the way you did. 

It didn’t cut her the way it wounded you. 

Nona meowed softly in your lap as she stood, nosing at your chin and dragging her head on your jaw. You cooed as you scooped her up, pressing a kiss into the warmth of her fur, and you giggled when she licked your cheek and began purring. Alexia kneeled in front of you, running a finger under Nona’s chin, who purred even louder from the added attention. 

“She really missed you, you know.” Alexia whispered, and as she did, she gazed up at you. The warm light made her eyes shine and her cheeks glow with an earnestness that you longed to caress, that invited you to trace the outline of her brow and to feel the soft skin just beneath her eye. 

She was so beautiful. 

She’d always been.

You could never tell her that, and it hurt.

“I missed her, too.” You breathed softly, “So much.”

And still looking into her eyes, you murmured even softer, “You have no idea.” 

[amirasainz]

OH MY GOD! You literally gave us so much today. Actually, I'm in love with you and your page. I had an idea and I was hoping you could write it. Would you be a to write one continuing with dark Alex and Charles were it's been a year and reader it slowly feeling back in love and has a little but of Stockholm syndrome after being trapped with them, they feel as if you can doing anything without them. ❤️❤️❤️💗💗💗

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo

Part 1 Part 3

Bound by obsession

The air was thick with the familiar scent of lavender, a fragrance Y/N had grown to associate with the luxury and confinement of her life over the past year. The grand mansion was breathtaking—ornate and lavish, a place anyone would have dreamt of living in. But to Y/N, it was a gilded cage.

It had been a year since the day Alexandra and Charles, her ex- boyfriedn and girlfriend, had stolen her away from her ordinary life. They’d claimed they loved her, needed her, that she was the missing piece of their twisted puzzle. But what they called love felt more like possession, a consuming desire to keep her all to themselves.

At first, Y/N had fought. She’d screamed, begged, tried to run countless times, but their hold on her was ironclad. Slowly, the fight left her. She had no friends, no family—only Alexandra and Charles, who filled her days with constant attention, whispered promises, and suffocating affection. Over time, Y/N’s heart began to betray her, her mind slowly twisting into a version of love that felt like surrender.

---

“Darling, you look so beautiful today,” Charles murmured, his voice smooth like honey as he traced his fingers down Y/N’s arm. They were sitting in the sunlit garden, Charles holding Y/N’s hand possessively while Alexandra lounged beside them, watching with a predatory glint in her eyes.

Y/N smiled softly, her eyes meeting Charles’s warm gaze. “Thank you, Charles…” she replied, her voice quiet. It was hard to keep her emotions straight anymore; their constant attention had worn her down, their sweet words filling the void they had created.

Charles’s thumb brushed over the back of her hand, drawing small circles. “You’re perfect. Our perfect little doll,” he whispered, leaning closer to kiss her cheek. The soft touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she leaned into him unconsciously, finding comfort in the familiar warmth.

Alexandra watched them with a pleased smile, her fingers twirling a lock of Y/N’s hair. “You’re so good for us now, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Alexandra cooed, her tone both mocking and affectionate. She tugged gently, guiding Y/N’s head to rest against her shoulder.

Y/N nodded slowly, feeling Alexandra’s fingers start to braid her hair. She’d grown used to Alexandra’s little rituals—the way she’d sit Y/N down and play with her hair, selecting clothes for her as if she were dressing up a beloved doll. It was infantilizing and degrading, but in a twisted way, it made Y/N feel cared for.

“You like it when I braid your hair, don’t you?” Alexandra asked, her voice almost teasing. Y/N didn’t know if Alexandra wanted an answer, but she nodded anyway.

“Yes… it feels… nice,” Y/N admitted quietly, her eyes fluttering shut as Alexandra’s skilled fingers continued to work. It was a simple pleasure, one she had learned to cherish in her captivity.

Alexandra smiled wider, pleased with the response. “Good girl,” she praised, securing the braid with a ribbon. “You’re such a pretty little thing when you listen.” Alexandra’s hand moved to Y/N’s chin, tilting her head up so their eyes met. “You’d never want to leave us, would you?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, Y/N’s mind flashed with memories of her old life—freedom, friends, the sun on her face without fear. But those memories were distant, overshadowed by the warmth and security Alexandra and Charles provided, however twisted it might be.

“I… I don’t want to leave,” Y/N whispered, the words tasting both bitter and sweet on her tongue. She had told herself it was easier this way, that this was her reality now.

Charles’s grip tightened on her hand, pulling her back into his embrace. “That’s right, mon ange. You belong here, with us,” he said, his voice tinged with possessiveness. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his lips lingering. “You’re ours.”

The way he said it made Y/N’s heart flutter. She hated that feeling, hated the way she couldn’t help but lean into him, savoring the closeness. It was wrong—everything about this was wrong. But the lines had blurred so much that she couldn’t tell where her true feelings ended and their manipulation began.

---

Later that evening, Alexandra had chosen an elegant dress for Y/N—soft blue fabric that clung to her body in all the right places. Y/N sat in front of the vanity as Alexandra fussed over her hair, her touch gentle yet controlling.

“You’ll look perfect tonight, just like you always do,” Alexandra said, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. “We don’t want you hiding away, do we?”

Y/N shook her head. “No… I’ll look nice for you,” she mumbled, staring at her own reflection. She barely recognized the girl staring back—she looked polished, cared for, but there was a dullness in her eyes that told the true story.

Charles entered the room, his expression lighting up at the sight of Y/N. “Oh, you look stunning, chérie,” he praised, moving to stand behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. His touch was firm, grounding. “We should never let you out of our sight.”

Y/N felt Charles’s fingers kneading her shoulders, his touch sending sparks through her skin. She wanted to pull away, to remind herself that this was all wrong—but instead, she found herself leaning into his touch, craving the warmth and reassurance it provided.

“You’re always so sweet to me,” Y/N murmured, feeling a mix of gratitude and resignation. She had stopped questioning the strange bond they shared. It was easier to play along, to let them coddle her and make her feel special, even if it was all a lie.

Charles chuckled softly, his breath warm against her ear. “That’s because we love you, mon amour. You’re everything to us. We just want you to be happy.”

Alexandra finished braiding Y/N’s hair and stepped back, admiring her handiwork. “Happy and beautiful,” Alexandra corrected, planting a kiss on Y/N’s cheek. “And you are, aren’t you?”

Y/N nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yes… I am,” she said, and for a fleeting moment, she almost believed it.

---

That night, they lay in bed together, Y/N nestled between them, surrounded by their warmth. Alexandra’s arm was draped possessively over her waist, while Charles’s fingers intertwined with hers. It was suffocating, yet oddly comforting.

“You’re safe here with us,” Alexandra whispered, her lips brushing against Y/N’s ear. “We’ll never let anyone hurt you. Never.”

Charles squeezed her hand, pulling it to his chest. “You’re ours forever, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “And we’ll take care of you, always.”

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling the weight of their words settle over her. She was theirs—she knew that now. As twisted as it was, they had become her whole world. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

[written-in-flowers]

Her Guardian: Demon!Mingi x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Demon!Mingi x Fem!Reader | side pairing(s): mingi x yunho, mingi x OFC, fem!reader x demonline.

Genre: Smut, angst

Word count: 9k

Summary: Mingi accompanies you to visit Eden, a place that's far too bright and where people are more likely to arrest him than smile at him. Well, except for one, maybe.

Tags: poly relationship, demons, threesome (m/f/f), vaginal fingering, oral sex, thigh fucking, food sex (mostly licking stuff off each other), angels and demons, incest, bisexual!reader, outdoor sex, public sex, chasing through garden, facials, multiple rounds, multiple positions,

Previously on Pretty Lady

Pretty Lady Masterlist

****

He didn't particularly like Eden. It was too bright, too much pollen clung to the air, and he hated the stares the guards gave him. Mingi did nothing to garner such distrust, except be a man in a women's sanctuary. The ones he knew from the inner city treated him well enough, but those born and raised in Eden scowled at the sight of him. He almost found it comical how their pleasant smiles towards you instantly dropped into dislike at him. Yet, Mingi went wherever you went, so when you said you’d be visiting Eden again, he followed.

Walking through the main hall of Lilith’s floral castle, he saw guards and ladies eyeing him once again. He hated all the attention. As someone who preferred sticking to the shadows, it wasn’t easy having people be aware of him. Eden’s sunlit corridors, open-air courtyards and gardens made disappearing from view difficult. The hedges and bushes might be good hiding spots if the people around him couldn’t talk to plants. Still, Mingi kept his position behind you at all times. He didn’t care if your safety is assured with the palace guards and your own abilities. The masters made him your bodyguard, and he’d carry out his duty.

Mingi followed you out into the citrus groves, where fruits of all kinds grew ripe and fresh from the trees above. He watched you reach up for a peach, and turn to him.

“Hungry?” you asked.

“Always.”

You tossed it to him, then picked one for yourself. “You know you didn’t have to come along,” you told him for the millionth time since you began visiting. “I’m totally fine here.” 

“Eden isn’t completely impenetrable, Mistress,” he said, his teeth breaking the peach’s fuzzy skin. The sweet fruit burst in his mouth, and nearly dropped from the sides of his mouth. Eden’s resources tasted far better than anything Prince Beezlebub could grow. He took another bite before saying, “My job is to watch over you and keep you safe. That’s what I intend to do.”

“I can take care of myself, Mingi.”

“You see, it’s funny when people say that,” Mingi said, amused by your confidence. “Everybody thinks they can fight until they actually are forced into a fight. It’s not as easy as it seems.”

“I’ve been training.”

“So have I, and when I got into my first real fight, I hesitated and nearly lost my eye.”

You turned around to him again, mouth full of peach as you said, “What?!”

“Yeah,” he nodded, laughing at your reaction. He came up closer, biting into his peach, as he said, “I was in the middle of my first assignment for my order. The assignment was a typical reconnaissance and report back type of mission. Not that they doubted my skills; I’d passed my trials with perfect marks, but everyone starts off like that. Anyway, I was standing in the office of some high level crime lord with political connections when one of his men walked in by chance. In all my daydreams, I always sprung into action. You know, throwing a knife or withdrawing my blade or just throwing a punch. But, when I saw this guy-almost seven feet tall and built like a vending machine-standing in the doorway with the meanest look in his eyes, I panicked. In a fight like that, every second counts. The few seconds I hesitated cost me a good amount of time. The guy and I eventually got into it, and it’s like my mind blanked. All of a sudden, I’m fighting for my life.”

“When did the eye thing happen?”

“The guy had a knife and sliced upwards to my eye. I got my blade in his throat, and managed to escape, but I was half blind for months,” he said. He looked over at you, both of you eating your peaches, “It’s why I stick so close, Mistress, even when you think I’m not. Sure, your powers have grown and you are mastering them well, but what if someone breaks into your bedroom late at night? What if you’re in the street and someone tries attacking you? It’s easy to prepare for a fight that you know is coming; it’s not like that when it’s sprung on you.”

“Is that why you’re so tense all the time?”

“Huh? I’m not tense.”

“You so are,” you giggled. “Even right now. You’re in the most beautiful place in Hell, and you’re constantly swiveling your head around like something will pop out at you.” You touched his hand, and his heart fluttered. “Relax. Nobody is going to hurt me here.”

“You don’t know that.”

Laughter came down to you from up ahead. As always, Princess Lilith entertained her daughters and friends in the sweet-smelling citrus grove. Ladies of Eden resembled women from the paintings in the Black Keep, elegant in the gossamer gowns with flowers in their hair. You fit in with them with your own thin, long dress patterned with small hydrangeas. The same flower grew directly from your head and weaved around your head like a circlet. The Princess grinned brightly when she spotted you coming through the archway. Mingi stayed in the faint shadows, not wanting to be seen by Lilith or any of her daughters.

“YN,” she beamed, standing and walking around to embrace you, “My sweet freesia. How are you?”

“I’m better now that I’m here,” you replied with a grin, hugging her tightly. “Where’s Mama?”

“In her garden,” she said, pulling away and fixing one of the hydrangeas. “Your flower growth is really coming along well. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks, Grandma,” you smiled.

Lilith insisted you eat with her and the family. Mingi saw you glowing with happiness. It was the same back in the Black Keep, when you’re surrounded by your household or your plants. He sensed that-like him-happiness did not come easily to you. Your first days in the keep showed him that much. Even if you claimed to like your new life and the fine luxuries that came with it, he saw the sadness in your eyes. He’d watch you contemplate from the shadows, your loneliness and solitude became more obvious once he saw you by yourself. You might have had Jongho and Yeosang at the time, but they’d been handlers, not companions. The Masters in those days only acknowledged you for sex or a bit of conversation. You rarely left the keep, and stayed in the rooms designed for your use. There’d been so many places in the keep you never knew about because you’d been kept on a strict schedule.

Being amongst people who smiled at you, who welcomed and hugged you, lifted you from that sadness. 

“What are you doing here?”

He’d recognize the contemptuous tone of Artemis anywhere. Mingi turned his head around to see her standing nearby. Her dress hung around her knees, and she wore the arm guard and bow and arrow of an archer. The cascades of dark curls she typically decorated with daisies were tied back in a long plait, and her face was clean of the flowers she painted on. Even if she stared at him with distaste, Mingi knew about her curiosity of men like her cousins. While she held firmly to her family’s beliefs about them, he remembered their meeting during your first trip. It started with innocent talk over bows and arrows, but soon her lips were pressed to his own. 

He shuddered thinking of her cumming on his hand and mouth. 

“My Mistress wanted to see her family,” he said. “As her bodyguard, I go wherever she goes.”

“YN doesn’t need you here. She has the guards. She has me,” Artemis said firmly. “She doesn’t need a silly man-thing taking care of her.”

“It is my job,” he replied, preferring not to explain how sex and gender mean nothing in a fight. “If I stayed hanging around the keep and something happened to her, I’d be in for a whipping. I don’t know about you, but I personally prefer my whippings to be recreational rather than a punishment.”

“Ugh, so obscene,” she sucked her teeth. “You know the rules. Men go to the Men’s Quarters and wait there.”

“I’m not sitting in an empty room while my Mistress is walking about unprotected.”

“It is the law.”

“And since when do I care about the law?”

“I will have you arrested.”

“Go ahead.”

Yet, she stayed silent. Her eyes, round and hazel green, glanced at the group of women and then back at him. Whether she admitted it or not, Artemis knew break-ins are possible if the villain is determined enough. “Keep your distance,” she warned.

“Trust me, I plan to.”

She walked by him into the garden. Mingi watched her beam brightly at you, hugging and kissing your cheeks before sitting down. Seeing the quaint family having afternoon tea, he thought about his own. Children of Satan aren’t known for having soft hearts or showing tenderness to anyone. They are born from fire and brimstone. They are the embodiment of strength and might. Mingi’s mother might have shown bits of sympathy and affection for her sons, but she was by no means maternal. Jiyoo expected her two sons to be fierce shadow warriors; she trained them to be excellent assassins for The Crown and The Shadow Order. A formidable soldier in her own right, she claimed she’d purposefully spent both pregnancies in the dark, performing fertility rituals every night, to ensure her sons came out as shadows. Mingi became the assassin that she’d hoped for. Minjun, however, became something else.

An angel.

While his mother had no idea what happened to make Minjun, her youngest, turn from his people, Mingi knew. Leaning against the arch, he thought about that night. The two of them were given an assassination assignment: a Son of God. Neither of them knew much about the Son beforehand. They only knew where he lived, and that his existence was a threat to their people. Mingi gulped recalling their trip through the bayous of Louisiana, where they’d been told the Son’s family lived. Underneath the cover of darkness, wearing their black hoods and bandanas, they came upon the small shack by the river. Through a window, they saw a man with curly black hair and beard sitting beside a woman on a bed. Mingi thought he must be The Son, surely. But, sons didn’t kiss their mothers on the lips. They did not look down on her as if she were his entire world.

They also did not coddle the child in her arms. 

‘He’s only a baby. What kind of threat could he be to Lucifer?’ Minjun had asked under a whisper.

Despite being a demon, the slaughter of innocent children is indefensible.

‘Brother, we cannot…Surely, we must be in the wrong place. That is a baby.’

‘A baby who could ruin us all.’

‘He is a child, Mingi. Perhaps if he were a grown man who could defend himself, but not this. This is wrong.’

‘We have to do this, Minjun. Muster up your courage and put your feelings aside-’

‘-Put my feelings aside? Do you not hear yourself? That is an infant, a newborn.’

‘Yes, an infant that will grow to one day destroy everything our King has worked for. If he dies for their sins, Minjun…If he follows his predecessor’s purpose, we might not-’

‘-He is only one man. He is only one baby. Mingi-’

‘-They will kill us both if we do not do this. They will kill Mother if we do not do this-’

‘-That is a child, Brother. A child. An innocent babe who just came from his mother’s womb. You cannot honestly be at peace with this.’

‘I am not, but we have a mission to complete.’

Mingi gulped recalling his vile words. Thinking back to that moment, hidden in the sand dunes with his brother, he could not stand himself. He liked assuring himself he wouldn’t have taken pleasure in the new Christ’s death, but that he did it for his mother. Lucifer often punished the families of those who displeased or disobeyed him. Mingi did not want to see his mother frozen in a block of ice for eternity. Minjun, on the other hand, always saw reason and sense. He refused to carry out his duty. Mingi only did not because three magi appeared and ruined their chance. He still saw Lucifer’s rageful eyes when Mingi quietly recounted his story. He told it all truthfully, except for one particular part.

Minjun, out of remorse and pity, stepped out from the bushes and approached the young family. The magi, who’d come bearing gifts for the new Messiah, moved to shield the mother and child. Mingi heard their warnings, and that an angel would appear to kill him if he made another step closer. Minjun, rather than withdraw his blades, knelt down in front of Mary Anne and her son, Jessup. He explained who and what he was. He told her that the murder of a child is a vile request, and that he could no longer abide by his masters’ beliefs and orders. Mingi recalled the hot tears that blurred his vision. He’d covered his mouth to suppress his sobs as he watched his brother swear his service to the Son of God and his mother. In a flash, Mingi lost his best friend and brother. An angel did appear, St. Michael, who no doubt heard about the demon’s presence, came to Jessup’s rescue.

It had been Mary Anne’s soft-spoken voice, begging Michael to sheath his steel, that kept Minjun’s head on his shoulders. With a bit of convincing, Michael placed his hand on Minjun’s head and bathed him in the bright holy light of God. From what he heard, Minjun no longer went by his demon name. He’d adopted the name Samuel, and served in Paradise. Jiyoo never spoke his name again, too hurt by his betrayal. Lucifer had Mingi whipped and imprisoned for his failure.

‘I never knew the Sons of Satan to be so weak.’

For years, Mingi wasted away in a frozen dungeon cell. He spent most days wishing he could see Minjun again; maybe if he’d talked to him, he could’ve convinced him to stay. He knew that would never be possible. If the two ever met, it’d likely be in a fight or on a battlefield. By the time they released him, Mingi saw Minjun’s departure akin to his death. Minjun died in the swamps of Louisiana. He’d never see or touch him ever again.

Mingi pondered more on it until he noticed someone watching him. Artemis. Clearly unexpected to be caught, the young sorceress jolted slightly and then whipped her head back to the table. How could she still be suspicious of him? He isn’t anywhere near the women. He had no intention of being near any of them today except you. Her distrust of him began irritating him before he noticed her shy glances back over at him. He saw a pink tinge cover the tops of her cheeks, and the tips of her ears.

‘Mingi, don’t stop. Don’t stop doing that with your tongue.’

The image of Artemis in his arms, the top of her dress untied to reveal her soft breasts and her legs parts on his lap, came back to him. She’d looked beautiful in the dim corner of the archery range that night. He’d held her against him, teasing her breasts while fingering her steadily, as she came over and over. Her fresh juices had leaked from her entrance to her ass by the time he put his tongue on her. He’d overstimulated her until she cried. She’d been teary eyed and pleading for more when he finally shoved his cock inside her. Was she thinking of that now? He certainly was. Mingi kept his eyes on her, undressing every layer with his eyes and seeing her nude in his mind’s eye. He kept picturing her sex inches from his face, turning slightly red the longer he kept her waiting, and he gulped back saliva in his mouth. When he added you, aroused and naked, into the mix, Mingi thought he might combust right there.

Tea finally ended with you and your cousins scampering off from the table. When you met up with him again, you started for your own garden patch. 

“I want to see how the lime tree is doing,” you told him on the dirt garden path. “I promised Cook fresh limes for dinner. They should be good by now; they’ve had time to grow.”

“He’ll be pleased for sure,” Mingi said. “He likes working with fresh ingredients. He’s lucky to have a mistress that can grow stuff for him.”

“He really is.” 

Walking through the garden, you both ended up in a square space cut off by tall hedges. Mingi took in the scale of your work as you started examining a tree in the corner. You’d started growing berries after you tasted Cook’s supreme mixed-berry pie and tarts. He saw the various berry bushes you had along the walls, right next to a patch of tomatoes and carrots and peppers beside lettuce. You told him that certain fruits and vegetables can be planted and benefit from one another. Mingi knew absolutely nothing about gardening, so he took your word for it. As he sneaked a strawberry, he thought of Minjun again. He heard rumors about the abundance of food that spanned across the edges of Paradise. Minjun-or “Samuel”-likely ate from them regularly. He pictured his brother biting into a fresh strawberry, a close-mouthed laugh coming through at a joke he’d told. You’d never find anything beautiful on the banks of the River of Wrath. He and his brother ventured into the city or snuck onto Beezelbub’s territory to have them. 

Mingi ate the strawberry with a dry mouth. Minjun died years ago. He’d come to terms with that in his prison cell underneath the ninth circle. The quick-witted, clever, mischievous boy he’d known went where Mingi could not go. 

“Gosh, these are gorgeous,” you smiled, placing limes in a basket. “They’re going to be great on the tacos.” You looked over to notice him brooding by the strawberries. “Hey…” 

He jerked when your arms slid around him from the side. Mingi put his arm over your shoulders, embracing the sweet scent reaching his nose. Minjun would’ve fallen in love with you, for sure. You plucked a strawberry of your own, biting into the tip softly. 

“What’s up?” you asked, “You’re quieter than usual.”

“Nothing. I’m fine, Mistress.”

“Is it about Artemis?”

“Huh?”

“Artemis,” you said. “Is there something going between you guys?”

“In a way.”

“In what way?”

“In a ‘she-hates-men-but-lets-me-fuck-her-like-crazy’ kind of way.”

“Ah, so enemies with benefits, huh?” you guessed with a soft laugh. “I knew something was up there. You stared way too closely at her tits for there not to be.” 

His cheeks tinged pink and he finished his strawberry. “It kind of happened out of nowhere. We’d been talking about her new bow when she kissed me.”

“Hold on, she kissed you? Artemis kissed you first?”

“She said she’d kissed guys before, and she didn’t see what was so great about it,” he began. “I told her she must’ve not had a good partner if she didn’t like it. She thought perhaps she hadn’t done it right if it sucked so bad. Then, well, I said if she didn’t mind, she could practice with me.”

“How did she take that?”

“Not well at first. She told me sex didn’t mean much to her, and that she didn’t want to throw herself at someone. I said it didn’t have to mean anything. I’ve always thought she was beautiful, and she’s strong and smart. If she’d been a demon instead of an Eden Lady, I would’ve mated with her at first sight.”

“Did she believe you?”

“Maybe? She didn’t say anything. She leaned in and kissed me instead.”

“How cute,” you grinned. “You must’ve shown her a good time if she kept looking back at you during tea time.”

“I guess.” 

You stood between him and the bushes, hands on his shoulders. “Did you like it?”

“Of course I did,” he said. “I had sex with a Lady of Eden. Do you know how rare that is? I never expected her to really believe me, or kiss me first. Artemis has always said she dislikes men; she likely still does even if she had sex with me. I didn’t know she liked men that way, either. I’ve only ever seen her with women.”

“When did you see her with a woman?”

“A long time ago. My brother and I went to this brothel on the edge of town, and she happened to be there with some of the Princess’s guards. They all had women in their laps, and I saw her kissing and fondling one of them,” he shrugged. 

“Wait, ‘brother’? You have a brother?”

“He died,” Mingi said, “During an assignment a long, long time ago.”

“How’d he die?”

Mingi realized he had no answer. Nobody asked how Minjun died because they all knew he’d gone over. It was a secret he couldn’t keep. For a moment, he considered lying to you. He thought of saying his brother died heroically fighting for his people or during an assignment for his superiors. Mingi brushed a strand of hair from your face, seeing the sincerity there. Not many people showed him care the way you did. While he enjoyed having sex with you, something else blossomed between the both of you. He kept his distance because you truly love his masters, as they did truly love you. Yet, holding you here in his arms in this gorgeous place, he could not see himself lying to you. Your understanding nature stood out in the hellish society. He knew if he told you the truth, you wouldn’t hate him. 

“He didn’t really die in the usual sense,” he said. “My brother and I were sent on a special assignment by The King, and when it was time to carry it out, we hesitated.”

“Why?”

“Because we found out our target wasn’t a full grown man or woman. It was…” his throat dried up, and shame came over him again. “It was a baby.” 

“A baby?” you gasped. “Why would Lucifer want to kill a baby? I thought he didn’t do things like that.”

“He normally doesn’t,” he said, “But this baby was special. He told us if it lived past infancy, it’d go on to destroy everything he’d been working hard to build. The sinful empire he planned on creating using the corrupted souls on Earth would be gone; he’d have to start all over.”

“Who, um, was this baby? Just curious.”

“It’s not who you think it is.”

“So, no Jesus Christ?”

“No. God’s second son, Jessup, who was supposed to be Heaven’s second coming,” he explained. “He was meant to muster up God’s Army to fight Lucifer when he came to Earth. We were supposed to kill him to stop that from happening before it even began. When that didn’t happen, Lucifer corrupted and possessed people to bring Jessup down.” Mingi couldn’t help pitying the young man, “History remembers Jessup as a runaway slave, not as their savior.” 

“He was a savior to some of those people, I’m sure.”

“But not the kind he was meant to be.”

“Wow…That’s insane…Lucifer wanted you to kill him, and you didn’t do it.”

“No. My brother saw that it was a baby, and said Lucifer was wrong for asking this of us. Instead of coming home with me, my brother went out to meet the infant. He told the mother everything, and said that he wanted to serve her son. When an angel came out, he purified my brother’s demon blood and made him an angel. I haven’t seen him since then.”

“So, in your mind, he might as well be dead.” 

“Yeah,” he moved away from you to the blueberries. He touched one in between his fingers, deciding it was too ripe to be eaten. 

“What happened when you came back?” you asked. 

“Lucifer wasn’t very happy about my failure,” he said. “He said demons with soft hearts could not serve in his army. He had me whipped for disobeying his orders, then threw me in prison.”

“That explains the scars on your back.” You then shrugged when he turned to you, “I’ve seen them once or twice.”

“I don’t exactly put them on display all the time.”

“How long were you there?”

“About ten years,” he shrugged, “Give or take.” 

“What was it like?”

“Tortuous,” he answered. “It’s the worst place in Hell, and that’s saying something. If you aren’t freezing from the icy walls and floors, you’re lying awake at night while you listen to the other inmates screaming. I want to say it’s like other prisons in the world where there’s gang violence and you have to watch your back, but not here.”

“How come?”

“Because they isolate us,” he said, “Which in my opinion is worse. We weren’t allowed to talk to anyone and yard time isn’t a thing here. You are stuck in a room with your own thoughts. When someone does happen to come around, they don’t speak. You start spiraling. You start hallucinating. I’ve heard of people who’d been there longer walking in circles, muttering and mumbling to themselves.” Mingi shuddered at the thought of those days. “Then, you get out and you forget how to talk to people. Your throat is hoarse. Speaking makes your jaw hurt since it's been shut so long. Some of us stop speaking all together because we’re so used to being silent.”

“I guess that makes it easier for you to blend into the dark, huh?”

He saw your attempt at humor, and at least pretended to laugh. “I guess so.” 

“Does Seonghwa know about it?” 

“It’s why he hired me,” he nodded. “He knew who I was when I came to him looking for a job. I was homeless after I left prison. Not many people want to hire a guy that was called a traitor by the king, but Master Seonghwa wasn’t like that. He said he found my reluctance to kill a child admirable.”

“I think any normal person would,” you said. 

“I told him I only hesitated because my brother did,” he cut you off. “Lucifer never punishes just the person who pissed him off. He punishes their entire family. My mother was put on the whipping post before me; Lucifer wanted me to watch what happens when I disobey my king. He made me look on as they whipped the skin off her back.” Echoes of her screams reached him and he crushed a blackberry between his teeth to distract himself. “He might have killed me if my grandfather had not spoken up.”

“Satan?”

“He said killing a demon of my skills would be a waste,” he said. “He convinced Lucifer to throw me in prison to teach me a lesson instead. How rotting away in an ice box is better than death is beyond me.”

“My mom once said there are fates worse than death.”

“There are.” 

Your hands slid around him from behind, fingers playing with the clasps of his coat. “And now you’re here,” you said, “In the sun.”

“And it’s terrible.”

You giggled, “You can always take the coat off.” A shiver went up to his neck when you whispered, “You can take all of it off and get into a bathing pool with me. It is a bit hotter than usual.”

“Tempting, Mistress,” he admitted, “But not at the moment.”

“Okay,” you replied, and he knew you’d pouted for a second before pulling away. “What was your brother like?”

The last time he’d spoken of Minjun at this length was after a drunken night with Yunho. The pair of them split several bottles of wine between them. It led to flushed cheeks, wandering hands and sloppy kisses. Mingi, as he spoke, smelled the phantom scent of Yunho in the air. They’d done it multiple times before turning into puddles of jelly on Yunho’s bed. There, they’d laid out their hearts to one another. He told Yunho everything and anything he wanted to know. He’d normally been so guarded in those days; showing signs of weakness scared him. Yet, in the afterglow of blissful sex, his heart broke open. While you worked on your garden, it broke open to you. He shared tidbits about his little brother, who loved reading as much as fighting; he told you about the time they both dared each other to jump off a tall cathedral into a large heap of hay below. He told you of their childhood along the banks of the Wrathful River, the River of Wrath in Satan’s territory. You found all of it fascinating. You wanted to know more about your new home, and the different places. He knew you’d see them one day, and in a much nicer perspective than some.

As the sun began setting, the two of you made your way to the rose garden where other ladies sat enjoying the darkening skies and growing stars. He remained in the shadows as always, watching you closely and keeping a look out in the surrounding area. Talking about Minjun lifted weight from his shoulders. Breathing out his name and recounting tales of his brother brought back that fondness he once had. Mingi hoped, for a moment, wherever he was, his brother was happy.

“You’re still here.”

Artemis came up beside him as she entered the garden. She’d changed out of her usual training tunic into the long gowns of Eden. He noticed she’d grown daisies into her hair, letting them sprout like a halo around her head. In the dim sunlight, she looked heavenly.

“Yes,” he answered curtly.

“I hope you kept your hands to yourself in my grandmother’s garden.”

“I only indulge if my mistress wishes me to,” said Mingi.

“Don’t act as if you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“How could I not?” he laughed softly. “If you tasted a bit of her, you’d enjoy it too.” He then smirked, “Or perhaps you say that because you wish it was you I was indulging?”

“As if,” she scoffed, though he saw through her lie. “Just keep to yourself, Mingi.”

“I will if you do, my lady.”

Mingi smiled to himself as she walked away. He knew she thought about their time together as much as he did. He watched her come to your side, kissing your cheek and smiling brightly. A range of dirty images rushed through his head seeing you two next to each other. He couldn’t recall the last time he had two partners; he didn’t count Octavius since he’s a plant. Having both of you in his bed, fully naked and horny beyond belief, had him shifting slightly to one side. Minjun would’ve teased him for his weakness, but Mingi didn’t care. You weakened him. He spent so many nights listening to his masters take you that it’s all he thinks about in quiet moments. After hearing Artemis’s low, erotic moans, she’d snuck her way into his fantasies with you.

He loved and hated it.

As the women began eating snacks and sweets left out, Artemis turned in his direction. Naturally, his eyes landed on her chest. He’d do anything to see and grab them again. She told him that’d be their first and only time. Mingi hoped that had been all talk. When she did not cover herself or turn away, he kept staring. He bit his inner cheek when he caught a glimpse of her nipple hardening in the cool breeze. He’d love to put his mouth on it. His desires burned hotter when he realized you’d been watching him watching Artemis. You smirked knowingly, putting a puff pastry to your lips. His jaw dropped when you bit into it, licking the thick white cream that had come through the sides. The last time he fucked you, he’d finished in your mouth. The pool of white cum had stood out in your mouth and throat. You’d spat some out to let it drip down your chin and the sides of your lips, then went back to sucking him off. He’d been so drunk off your toxins that he thought of nothing else but giving you more to swallow.

She turned away from him, yet you kept watching him. Memories of that night came back to him just as easily. It had been after a party at a new friend's house. You came back giggling and swaying to the music in your head. He couldn't let you walk up stairs on your own with unsteady heels, so he guided you back to your room. Mingi admitted he'd drunk a bit more than he should have; his body had felt warm and hazy. Even in the daze of alcohol, the two of you gravitate towards one another. He vaguely recalled stripping you down with fumbling fingers, while you slovenly kissed down his neck. Mingi took a deep breath thinking about your mouth wrapped around his cock, eyes focused up at him as you continuously pushed him to your throat. He'd gone harder than he intended, but you assured him you loved every second of it. He considered taking you to the gardens to ram you again, then he remembered where he was. 

Your teasing grin did not simmer the fire burning in him. He expected you to stand and leave the gazebo, but instead you whispered to one of the Imp servants and saw the girl nodded excitedly. Whatever made the little Imp skip and giggle away could not be good. You turned and said something to Artemis once the servant left. Mingi wasn’t sure what you said, but Artemis glanced over at him and then back to you. Were Minjun alive, he’d insist they follow the both of you. Not out of concern or duty, but with hopes of walking upon a filthy sight. The Minjun he knew loved women. He loved visiting the brothels and taverns after missions or days in the training yard. He’d spend all his coin on the ladies he pulled into his laps. Mingi knew he’d envy him for getting to work for you. But, as much as Mingi would love to, he did have a job to do.

You and Artemis excused yourselves from the group and left out of another archway. Mingi knew a trap when he saw one. If he followed you, he’d be pulled into whatever erotic plan you’d invented for him. He knew he could not let you get away, since he is meant to watch you, and you knew that. Shaking off the tightness building in his stomach, Mingi walked along the hedges to where you and Artemis had disappeared through. Nobody noticed him as he moved quietly through the pathways. He tried picking up your scent, but couldn’t catch it amongst the other flowers. Another reason to dislike Eden. He peeked inside each garden enclosure or sitting area he passed with hopes of finding you. Break ins in Eden became more frequent these days, according to some, and with nighttime approaching, he needed to be more cautious. Demons of lust or simply drunkards looking to score have been caught climbing the walls of Eden’s garden and accosting ladies. They never get far since the ladies protect themselves and their guards are fierce, but it happens. Mingi might like the idea of you and a naked Artemis, but not so much of a man putting a knife to your throat to assault you.

“He did?”

He heard your voice come from one of the bathing pools. His entire body flushed in heat, and his armor suddenly felt suffocating.

“He did,” Artemis confirmed your question.

“I thought you hated men though.”

“I don’t hate them. I just don’t trust them. They all lie and cheat. They steal and kill.”

“Women can do that too.”

“Not at the rate men do.”

Her beliefs did not surprise him. Mingi would have told you that Ladies of Eden learn about the atrocities of men and the patriarchy at their mothers’ breasts. It is only recently that some are open to having men in their lives or beds.

“Did you at least like it?” he heard you leading her on, a smile on your face.

“I did, very much,” she admitted, sounding shy. “He isn’t the first, but he’s certainly the best.”

Mingi peeked around the entrance to the bathing pool. A ball formed in his throat when he saw both of you shedding off your clothes as Imps placed a tray of fruits and pastries near the small pool. He looked over the two nude bodies out in the open. He took in all the curves, soft skin and fleshy parts of your bodies. He saw where you’d both trimmed yourselves, only making him want to latch his mouth to them more. The flirtatious, giddy looks on your faces aroused him, especially when you stepped into the pool together. You both leaned against the steps waist-deep in the water as you brought the fruit tray over. Mingi bit his lower lip when he realized it was strawberries and a small pot of chocolate syrup. The two of you started eating them normally, talking about boys and the other ladies in the garden before your voices grew lower and you drew together. He recognized the lustful gaze you gave her as you put a strawberry to her lips. Artemis kept eye contact while she wrapped her mouth around the end and bit down. 

Next came chocolate. He watched you swipe some onto the base of her neck, then lick it off in slow, passionate laps of your tongue. He palmed his groin when she returned the favor when a small droplet fell on your breast. The tip of her tongue grazed the outer edge of your nipple, then up to lick up the thin trickle and he held back a groan. He stood in awe as you started kissing, open mouths doing nothing to cover the tongues swatting at one another inside. He knew right now your arousing saliva worked its magic on her, coursing desire and passion through her veins. You dipped your finger in the chocolate to coat over one of Artemis’s nipples, then leaned down to slowly lick it off. Mingi instantly started unclasping his coat as he stepped into the space. Blending with the shadows, neither of you saw him in the corner of the room. He dropped his coat and undid his leather vest and thin chainmail underneath. You continued pinching and groping her breasts while her hands moved around to your ass. The crotch of his pants tightened when she put a strawberry to your lips for you to eat. With a single bite, Artemis smeared bits of juice around your mouth to then lick and kiss clean. You did the same to her, the both of you swatting your tongue over the large fruit before she bit into it. 

“How about I give you both something bigger to lick?” he asked, voice heavy with lust as he kicked off his boots and unbuckled his pants. 

Neither of you appeared surprised by his appearance. In fact, you both giggled shyly and turned away from him for a moment. “Don’t be shy now,” he smirked, pulling down both pants and underwear. Each of you focused directly on his groin once he removed them, and he couldn’t be prouder of it. “You two lured me in here. What did you think I’d do? Stand by and watch two gorgeous women fuck in a pool?”

“Yes,” Artemis admitted in a giggle. 

“I told her you wouldn’t be able to help yourself,” you said, eyeing his semi-hardon. “You’re a big ol’ pervert deep down.”

“Which I’ve grown to enjoy quite a bit,” she then said, reaching up your chest to cup both your breasts. “I loved it so much last time.”

“So did I, my lady,” he admitted, walking over to where you both stood in the pool. 

The cool water did shock his hot skin, though it didn't distract him from his goal. He came over, and brought you to him by the hips. The sweet taste of chocolate strawberries flowed from your lips to his on your tongue, which he eagerly ate up. The moment your tongues touched, Mingi’s hunger shot to the ceiling. He found it hard to contain the primal urge to fuck both all night. 

He kept one arm around you as he pulled Artemis to him and kissed her the same way. A groan rumbled in his throat when a sticky, smooth substance covered a spot on his neck, only to be licked at by your warm tongue. The feeling of you licking his neck while Artemis’s tongue slid into his mouth fanned the flames making him harder. While hands started running up and down his chest and stomach, he felt up and down the full, round cheeks in his hands. Artemis whimpered at a particularly hard squeeze he gave her, and he knew she’d liked it.

“Do you like that?” he asked her, pecking her lips softly. 

“Yes,” she breathed, picking up her own swipe of chocolate to put on his chest. “Do it again.”

As she lapped up the thin mess she’d made, he repeated the action to hear her whine into his chest. Mingi didn’t intend on leaving you out. He kissed you deeply, sliding his hand over and under your ass cheeks. Long fingers found the perineum and stroked it slowly, letting you enjoy the simple touch as you kissed. 

“You’re so strong, Mingi,” Artemis said in his ear, moving behind him while you moved in front of him. “So big and long,” she took his cock by the base, reaching around to stroke him. Your heads both reached to his shoulders, where lips began kissing and nibbling at his neck and shoulders while you both caressed him. “I never had one like yours until the last time,” she said, only stroking him halfway. “That's all I think about when I’m alone in my bed. You’re the only man I’d ever allow in my bed after I’ve had this.”

“You should come live with us,” you told her, putting Mingi’s hands on your breasts for him to squeeze, “Then you and I could have fun with him whenever we want.”

“I’d never have a moment of peace, huh?” he teased, reaching to drizzle chocolate on your nipples. He began licking the thin strings off them, moaning softly as Artemis squeezed and aimed his cock between your thighs. “You, her and Yunho will have me empty by the end of the day.”

“As if you wouldn’t love that,” said Artemis. 

“He’d definitely love it,” you moaned when he flicked his tongue over the peaks of your nipples. “Wouldn’t you, Mingi?” 

His tip touched something slick and warm under the water, and he groaned loudly. Nestled between your thighs, his cock slipped in and out of them while Artemis fondled his balls underneath. The pleasure elevated when her thumbs spread the chocolate you placed there to lick it off him. Mingi’s moans grew louder as your wet clitoris brushed over the head of his cock over and over. His balls rolled around over each of Artemis’s fingers one at a time, sending shocks of pleasure through to his swollen cock. Your slow rocking movements had him reaching in front and behind him to grab at both of you. Artemis’s smooth sex fluttered open for his fingers, causing her to hold his wrist in place as she rubbed herself on his fingers. He sunk his other fingers between your ass cheeks to tease the tight hole they hid. Just feeling you both on his hands, hearing your moans join his, he thought he might cum. 

“Stand in front of me,” he said breathily. “I want to play with both of you.” 

“You might, but not here.” 

Artemis slipped away from him. You took direction from her, and moved away too. A brief moment of frustration passed before he saw your mischievous smiles. You’d reached the top of the steps before he realized what was going on. The moment he charged, you two bolted towards the entrance. A delighted laugh escaped his chest as he rushed after you, naked as the day he was born. In the dim lighting of the lanterns above the paths, he saw your naked bodies several feet ahead of him. Your squeals and giggles reached him, joining in his own delight, as you continued running. Artemis, being the faster runner, sprinted ahead even when Mingi’s arms wrapped around you. 

“Mingi!” you giggled as he lifted you from the ground and pressed you to a stone wall. 

One arm holding you to his chest, he reached down and slipped two fingers inside you from behind. The pussy gushing juices into his hand, the familiar sound of his palm slapping your cheeks reached his ears. You arched your back to let him get in a few pumps before you managed to wriggle out of his grasp and run off again. 

“Come here, you,” he laughed through his gritted teeth, making swipes at you from behind as he followed. “I’m going to get you, you little tease.”

“If you can keep up, that is!”

You darted into one section of the garden, and he went after you. In an intersection, someone slammed right into him. By the scent of fresh daisies, he knew it to be Artemis. The both of them on the ground, he scrambled to get on top of her. The beautiful Lady didn’t fight him off very much, but instead brought him in for a deep kiss as he forced her legs apart with his hips. Her moans vibrated in his mouth once he pushed his fingers inside her hot cunt. 

“I’m making at least one of you cum tonight,” he growled, biting down on her lower lip softly. “On my tongue, my cock or my fingers…I don’t care.”

“If only I wanted to make that easy for you this time.”

She dug her fingers into his arm, distracting him a brief moment before sliding away from him and running again. His cock raged between his thighs. The embarrassing thought of someone important finding him naked crossed his mind, but he didn’t care. The combination of his own desires and the endorphins your kisses gave him kept him chasing each of you throughout the garden. By the time he caught up with her near a stone fountain of Medusa, he needed to fuck her. The stone fountain of the gorgon queen looked down on his with scolding eyes, her snakes lifted and posed for attack. Mingi looked around at the stone figures placed throughout the place in various spots. Men in soldier's armor, women in long flowing dresses, and small animals either running or standing in shock made it a bit more difficult to navigate. 

A teasing giggle came from behind him, and he sensed one of you nearby. Mingi, a grin on his face, walked towards a particularly tall bear statue. There, he found Artemis hiding. She squeaked and giggled when he reached out for her, happening to catch her elbow and spin her into his arms. She barely struggled as his lips found hers, easily opening them and exploring her mouth with his tongue. He groaned at a cold hand starting to stroke his hardon; he returned the touch by rubbing her soaked clit. 

Pressing her back to the statue, Mingi lifted one leg to his hip as he shoved two fingers in her. Artemis clutched the sides of the wide statue, head tilted back whenever his fingers curled inside her. He took advantage of this moment and flicked his tongue over her nipples, knowing how much she loved it. Mingi looked at her, drinking in the sight of her naked body in his embrace. Chest rising and falling in every deep breath, the moonlight made her skin glow and sweat shimmer on her taupe skin. He kissed up her neck, licking specific spots he knew she liked, before reaching her ear. She moaned louder, gripping her shoulders, and began pushing down on his fingers. 

“Such a needy girl,” he groaned in her ear, savoring the feeling of her hand on his cock and his fingers stuffed in her cunt. “I do love watching you fuck yourself on my hand,” he said, looking down to see her body tense and rock against his palm, “But I think you’d look better on my dick instead, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she breathed, squeezing his tip and rolling her thumb around it. He might go insane if he didn’t fuck her soon. “Yes, please.”

He withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock in one swift motion. Stuck on his length, Artemis could do nothing but let him push in and out of her. He held onto her thigh and kept her pinned to the statue, occasionally sucking and teasing her breast. She tried keeping her voice down, though he saw her resolve start faltering when he rubbed her hard clit. 

“How about I give a hand?”

You appeared from seemingly nowhere. Turning Artemis’s head, you locked her in a kiss as you took over her clitoris. He watched the both of you work one another softly, teasing with feather-like touches and passionate kisses. Mingi held onto Artemis’s hips as he kept going, looking down to see himself coated with her juices each time he pulled out. Your hand rolling around the hood and underside of her clit added an extra sprinkle of arousal he couldn't ignore. Soon, her sex quivered when he started bottoming up into her hips. Her orgasm crashed right over her, contorting her body and stiffening her muscles. 

“Don't stop,” she cried, head turned to the side and hips rutting against his. “Please, don't stop.”

“He wouldn't dream of it,” you whined, rubbing her and kissing her neck. 

Her orgasm finally went over the edge, and Mingi felt tempted to move faster and harder. His own nearly arrived before he forced himself out of her. 

“Now it's my turn.”

He didn't utter a word as you laid him on the ground. Mingi watched you sink down onto his wet cock in a singular movement, immediately starting to ride him. He held onto the bottoms of the two statues beside him, gripping hard as your pussy flexed against his stiff length and milked him so easily. He couldn't keep his eyes off you. Having a new lover felt nice, but nothing beat you. You knew him so well already. Your body played him like a fiddle, knowing which strings to pluck at the right time. He groaned loudly when you whirled your hips around, your body bringing him with you and stretching him in circles. Your ass cheeks pressed right onto his balls gave a bit of pressure that nearly sent him over the edge. He kept his eyes on you; he gazed over the curves of your body moving in time with his, your eyes full of lust and need as you worked him. How nobody knew you were a cambion is beyond him. No human can be as enchanting or tantalizing as you. When Artemis showed up beside you, returning the favor you'd given her, he began pushing up into you before you forced him still by the hips. Once your bouncing became more erratic, your moans sounding desperate and needy, Mingi held you by your hips to chase down the orgasm building below. Artemis’s deft fingers moved at the same speed, the both of them encouraging you to cum all over him. He hoped you'd squirt a bit on him; he loved watching you do that with Hongjoong, but you didn't. 

Artemis’s turn came again, on her front with you underneath her. Both of you keeping your legs far apart, you each kissed and grinded together as he pumped his cock back into her. He gave her a few thrusts before switching further down to you. This move teased him just as much as it teased the both of you. The sensation of pulling out once he'd gotten frustrating and exciting at the same time. The desperate need to cum had his balls slapping against each of you in sporadic thrusts. Both you and Artemis knew how badly he needed it, and encouraged him. 

“Go ahead and cum,” you moaned between kisses. “We want you to…”

“All over us both.”

He planted himself firmly inside you, pushing forward while smacking and grabbing the round ass in front of him. The pain he'd been withholding soon came to the surface, and he instantly withdrew and rolled Artemis onto her back. Realizing what was happening, you sat up on your elbows together as his cum shot out. His head fell back, back arching as he let his climax take over. He rarely felt such pleasure before. He didn't want it to end. 

And it didn't. You and Artemis pounced on him the moment he finished. You took turns sucking the last bits of cum from his cock, clearly not done with him at all, and kept going until he grew hard again. Once he did, he laid helpless as Artemis rode his cock while you rode his tongue. Squeals of “Mingi!” and “Fuck, that feels so good!” kept him going long after he'd finished pleasuring one lady after the other. By the time he worked you out of his system, the sun had plunged the world into complete darkness. Only in the clear moonlight could he see the two women slumped on the ground at the base of several statues. He knew he wouldn't be standing anytime soon, and the thought of a guard coming across him did not scare him as it might normally. 

“Damn, two Ladies, Brother? Lucky dog.”

Mingi laughed softly, the running fountain covering it from nearby ears. If Minjun stayed, then perhaps he'd never be in this spot. If his brother remained a demon, he'd be at home by the river and not naked in the middle of a scenic garden. He turned his head to see you and Artemis sleeping nearby. He wouldn't have you if Minjun never crossed over. Mingi couldn't see you not being in his life. You'd become such an important part of him that it sounded torturous. He stared up at the stars, counting and connecting them as he finally gave into his exhaustion. 

****

“Wow, so this is how it is now, huh? We're just going to have public threesomes and not invite Hongjoong?”

Mingi groaned as the sun blinded him. Putting an arm over his eyes, he recognized the red and black shape of his master standing over him. He felt the warm softness of two women draped over him, snuggled and faces buried in his neck. He guessed you'd crawled over to him during the night. 

“Hm?” your soft hum filled his ear, and he could feel your breath on his neck. 

“Here we are,” he said, “Sitting at home worried about our special girl, thinking she'd been accosted on her way home or injured and lying in a ditch somewhere, but no. Here she is, naked with crusty cum on her with her cousin and her bodyguard.”

“Joongie…” you groaned, shifting in place, “Enough.”

“You don't fuck me in gardens.”

“Not true in the slightest. We've done it in my garden loads of times.”

“I mean in other people's gardens,” he corrected you. “Especially in Eden gardens. There's always patrols who could find us; much hotter that way.”

“Ugh, Hongjoong,” you peeled yourself away from him, and Mingi felt a light cloth be tossed your way. “Only you would be upset about this.”

“Not just me. Your grandmother, mom and Seonghwa are pretty peeved, but not for the same reasons as me.”

“No!” This woke up Artemis right away, making her sit up straight. “No, she doesn't….You're lying.”

“Am not,” he replied. “She found out when a guard told her they saw you all sleeping. I think you should find some clothes and explain yourself before she comes looking for you.”

Without another word, Artemis stood on shaky legs and ran away. Mingi had not moved an inch. His body refused to cooperate, not bothering to reach for any sort of cover. Not that it mattered, since Hongjoong’s wandering eyes did not bother him. 

“Have fun, Mingi?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Pet?”

“Loads,” you grinned over at Mingi, leaning to kiss him softly. Once your lips met his, he nearly went for another intoxicating kiss. “Mingi…Last night wasn't enough?”

“Forgive me,” he said, pulling a stray blade of grass from your hair. “Your kisses are addicitve. I can't help but want more.”

Hongjoong coughed, earning your attention again. “I don't think going a morning-after round in Lilith’s garden is a good idea, and that's me saying that. Put your clothes on,” Hongjoong tossed Mingi his own bundle, “And come with me.” He leaned down and kissed your lips. “Time to go home.”

Mingi watched him leave, and was glad it'd been Hongjoong and not Lilith. 

****

A/N: hey guys, I really hope you liked this one. This may be the last one for a while because I want to take a break from fanfiction to focus on my book. I didn't want to leave you guys hanging after I said I'd post this one lol

The series isn't over. Just on hiatus.

[reputationolivia]

try again?

would anyone be interested in this, i thought of this plot awhile back and started working on it recently but i feel like its just gotten long and idk i feel like it might be a bit boring? so idk if anyone would be up for reading this! but i put a little snippet of it here so if anyone sees this please share your thoughts! :)

18+ minors dni

warnings: none for this one yet.

summary: you and harry dated for almost 5 years but you ended things, only problem? you got a cat together three years ago that you co-parent.

wc: 1.8k

I glanced around in search for opal as I tied the laces on my shoes. She’s always been good at hiding when she sees her crate out and ready for her, but i was ready for her today with her favorite treat in hand. "Opal, where are you baby?” I called for her. pacing through the living room I heard a faint meow coming from the kitchen, and i sighed, already knowing where she would be - the narrow gap between the counter and the fridge. I bend down and waved her treat in front of her little face to get her interested in it. “Come on out sweetie,” i coaxed, slowly her fluffy face popped out of the gap and she began licking the treat. I took this as my opportunity and gently tugged her out and scooped her up, letting her have the entire treat now as I walked over to her crate.

As I helped opal get settles into her crate I tried not to think too much about the trip ahead and what’s to come. The keys jingled in my hands as i snatched them from there small side table near the front door creating a slight sound of normalcy between all of the craziness my life has been lately. I slung my headphones around my neck, and with opal securely inside her carrier i finally stepped out into the bright, sunlit street. I caught my reflection in a car window and felt a bit ridiculous - sunglasses on, headphones dangling, and cat in tow - i shrugged it off and began my journey to the subway station.

The subway ride was pretty uneventful, at least it was at first. Opal was sitting quietly in her crate beside me as she watched the window in front of us, watching the city blur through the window. I put my headphones on and mindlessly browsed through Apple Music, i eventually decided on just playing “my station” after not being able to settle on any of my existing playlists. I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular really, i mean besides the fact that I was currently on my way to meet my ex boyfriend of 4 1/2 years. As if my phone knew what was on my mind a familiar melody began playing, i felt my body tense as i recognized it immediately, my chest tightened and the air suddenly became too thick to breathe. I reached for my phone to skip to the next song. It was his song, of course it’d be my luck that’s the song that starts playing as I’m on my way to see him again. Of course, skipping it didn’t help, the damage was done.

Moving on has been hard, actually it’s been more than hard, it’s been hell, absolutely brutal. We were together for so long, four and a half years. That’s a long time to share a life with someone, it wasn’t just the memories that lingered though - it was our plans, the dreams we shared that we’d stay up all night talking about, when the world felt ours. Marriage, kids, a beautiful house with a garden, i thought it was all within reach, that it was just a matter of time. But now? Just the sound of his voice in a song sends me spiraling. It’s only been a couple months since we broke up, and seeing him as often as I do doesn’t exactly help with the whole “moving on” thing.

But now, all we have left is opal.

Opal. Our little baby. She wasn’t quite a child, but the closest thing we had. We adopted her when she was just a baby, three months old. After we broke up neither of us could bear to part with her. we had gotten her together so in the end we decided on co-parenting opal, which isn’t ideal but at the very least she had two people who loved her, and despite our failed relationship i knew she was safe with him. Even if seeing him every time i dropped her off still hurt.

The familiar ding of the subway pulled me out of my thoughts and i realized we were at our stop. I pulled my headphones back down to the back of my neck as i stood up, then grabbed opals crate and hopped off the subway. I felt like the subway ride ended far too quickly, and before i realized it i was walking up the now somewhat familiar street towards his apartment. as i got closer and closer each step i took felt heavier than the last. It felt like i was dragging the weight of everything we left unsaid, unresolved. I tightened my grip on opals crate, her quiet purring served as a reminder that despite everything, some things hadn’t changed.

But most things had.

I wasn’t the same person who used to walk the streets of New York with him by my side, laughing at the stupidest things, talking absentmindedly about everything, and nothing at all. Yet now it feels like that was a lifetime ago when in reality it was just a few short months ago. And now here i was, walking the streets of the city we once shared, alone. Having to act normal in front of the man i loved, love but trying not to as I’m about to hand over our cat like it was just some business transaction, something normal.

Ahead i spotted him standing in front of his building. He was leaning against the wall near the doors to the lobby, looking down at his phone, a casual stance that didn’t betray any of the turmoil i was feeling. Typical harry, i thought. Always composed, always calm. I wished i could say the same for myself. I reached up with my free hand to adjust my sunglasses, hoping they hid more than just the sun from my eyes. As i approached his eyes were still glues to his phone, did he even notice i was walking up to him? Now a few feet away from him, i clear my throat in hopes of catching his attention, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.

He finally looks up, his green eyes meeting mine, and though he couldn’t see mine due to my sunglasses i swore i could see something flash in his - recognition? Annoyance? Regret? I couldn’t quite place it. Maybe I’m just imagining things. “Hey,” he said, finally pushing off the wall and sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Hey,” i replied, keeping my voice as steady as i could even though every bit of me felt like breaking and like my voice was shaking with the tension of being this close to him. We walk into the lobby and i crouch down to let opal out. Immediately, she dashed out of her crate, and toward him, brushing against him with a happy meow. I couldn’t help the slight pang of jealousy i felt at how easily she seemed to adjust to this life of back and forth we’d created for her. I wish it was that easy for me.

“It’s been a while, nice shoes by the way.” Harry said as he crouched down, scratching opal behind her ears. He didn’t look at me when. He said it, instead keeping his eyes on opal. I couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a subtle dig when he said it’s been a while. “Yeah works been a bit hectic, and thanks.” I responded as i stood there awkwardly and hugged my arms to myself. Suddenly the distance between us felt a lot larger than just a few feet.

He stood up slowly, his gaze finally meeting mine, and i just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “How’ve you been?” He asked, for a moment i almost believed he actually wanted to know.

Good. You?”

“Same.” he said, glancing down at opal again.

The conversation stalled, i could feel the silence expanding between us, this is all we had now — awkward exchanges, empty words just to fill the space where something real used to be. I wanted so badly just to say something, anything that could break through the surface. I didn’t even know where to start, everything felt too different, too fragile and close to breaking. Opal meowed again, winding between our legs, completely oblivious to the tension hanging in the air between us.

I sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “She’s been eating normally. Likes to hide under the bed more often lately but that’s probably because of all the travel recently.” Harrys eyes softened a little. “Yeah, she’s always liked her hiding spots huh.” He paused, then added, “I’ve missed her.” His words hung there, suspended in the air between us for a while and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was just talking about opal. I nodded at his words, something about the way he said it lingered longer than it should have, i tried to push it aside, maybe I’m just reading too much into his words. Looking down at opal again i sighed, “i’ll uh, see you later.” I mumbled, now just wanting to get out and as far away from this awkward situation as possible. I turned to walk away before he could say anything, i felt his eyes on me as i made my way towards the lobby door. His gaze was sticking with me more than i wanted it to.

As i exited the building, i felt my footsteps heavy on the ground again. I took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air and trying to clear my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the what-ifs. How i wish i could be done with all this. I couldn’t afford to keep dwelling on our past, especially not with everything going on. At least through all this change i still had my job, and im fortunate enough to really love my job. My job has always been my escape, allowing be to take a break from my real life and everything i had going on. I could create stories outside my own, i could be in control, or at the very least, i could pretend to be. But in moments like this, i was just me - and I couldn’t pretend to be anyone else. I had no script or direction, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

The months after the breakup have been such a blur, it’s like I’ve been moving on autopilot. Filming, press events, and trying to keep it together in front of the cameras. I was good at that. I’ve played so many different roles, performed rehearsed lines perfectly, but none of that could’ve prepared me for the messy reality of seeing him. Missing him.

[mordellestories]

Bilbo felt a shift in the air itself. Upon waking, he felt invigorated and eager to dash out and explore everything. He walked through the gardens when the sound of a harp filled his delicate ears. He followed the music, entranced by the haunting melody.

There, sunlit and sitting alone was a man–no, a dwarf , playing an elven harp of gold. His eyes were covered by a blindfold, the harp resting against his shoulder as he plucked silver-white strings. Every note enchanted Bilbo more, and he drew closer. He noticed the dwarf had covered eyes, a short beard, shorter than most dwarves Bilbo had come across. He was handsome, with his hair in two braids on either side of his head to keep black and gray tresses from his face. Bilbo hadn’t realized how close he’d approached the beautiful stranger until he noticed that the blindfold was sheer enough to see the dwarf’s eyes were closed behind it. He assumed the dwarf was blind but of somewhat noble status, for he wore a finely made blue tunic with golden runes as trimming. His hands appeared rough but his nails were clean. He had light wrinkles on his forehead from age and the concentration he placed in his music.

The music ended and barely visible eyes fluttered open under thin fabric to meet Bilbo’s, and what Bilbo wanted in that moment was to know what color those eyes were.

“Hello,” rumbled a deep, but gentle voice from the dwarf.