#their last moment together is bittersweet and full of love | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 3 months ago

Text

supersonic — gojo satoru.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?” You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?” He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?” “......I’m sorry, what?”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Canon Convergence;

Warning/s: General Rating, SFW, Romance, Fluff, Humour, Comfort/No Hurt, Strangers to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Sorcerer! Reader, Tsundere! Reader, Feelings, Romantic Confession, Getting Together, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Happy Ending, Gojo Satoru Loves Reader But Reader Doesn't Know How to React;

Words: 8k words.

Note: the bubble words is gojo saying you shouldn't fall hard for him!!! i didn't think this would be longer than 5k but I just??? i swear someone has to tell me not to make stuff longer because i feel bad that its way too long and people just suffer my yapping </3 anyway, i love you all!!! thank you so much for reading once again <3

masterlist

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YOU LIKE TO THINK THAT YOU HAVE GOOD MEMORY. You often boasted to Atsuya about your memory, especially during exam season or when the two of you had to write detailed reports after every mission. It was a point of pride—being able to recall every detail with sharp accuracy, a skill that set you apart.

But lately, that once-reliable memory has been betraying you, twisting itself into something both frustrating and bittersweet. Because now, instead of recalling battle strategies or obscure curses, you find yourself remembering everything about him. Gojo Satoru.

No matter how much you try to push the memories away, they persist, etched into your mind like an indelible mark. It’s infuriating because he’s the last person you want to think about. Yet, there he is, popping into your thoughts when you least expect it, with that smug grin and irritatingly carefree attitude.

You can’t forget that day during the Sister School Goodwill Event in your first year. It’s impossible. That was the first time you met Gojo Satoru, and even now, the memory of it lingers like a stubborn shadow. He was everything you couldn’t stand—arrogant, always grinning like he knew something you didn’t, and constantly cracking jokes that got under your skin. The moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was in trouble.

He’d waltzed into the event with an air of confidence that bordered on cocky, his white hair catching the sunlight as if to announce his presence to the world. You remember the way his sunglasses glinted as he surveyed the arena, looking completely at ease, like he owned the place.

And maybe, in a way, he did—after all, his reputation had preceded him. The strongest sorcerer of his generation, a prodigy unlike any other. Everyone was talking about him, and you had been curious, but when you finally met him, that curiosity quickly morphed into annoyance.

It wasn’t just his arrogance; it was the way he seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to push your buttons, like he had a map of your every weakness. From the moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was trouble.

He didn’t even bother with formalities, didn’t extend his hand or offer a respectful bow like any normal person might when meeting someone new. No, Gojo Satoru made his grand entrance with all the subtlety of a peacock in full display.

“Hey there, I’m Gojo Satoru. Don't fall in love with me too much, okay?” he said, his tone so light and casual it was as if he was talking about the weather.

And then came that wink—oh, that infuriating wink. It was the kind of wink that dripped with self-assurance, as if he’d already decided that the world, including you, was his playground. The kind that made your blood pressure spike and your temper flare in an instant.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you glared at him, eyes narrowing into a scowl that you hoped would convey just how unimpressed you were. But if you expected him to back down, to maybe realize that he’d crossed a line, you were sorely mistaken. Gojo didn’t just take your scowl in stride—he laughed, a sound that was as easy and carefree as everything else about him.

The laughter caught you off guard. It wasn’t mocking, but it wasn’t exactly kind either. It was the kind of laugh that made it clear he was enjoying this, enjoying you. It was like he’d found a new toy to play with, and your irritation only made it more fun for him.

“Aw, come on, don’t look at me like that.” he’d said, still chuckling. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. We’re supposed to be having fun with this, right? No need to be so serious.”

But you were serious—deadly so. This wasn’t some lighthearted game to you; it was a competition, a test of skills and strength, something you’d been training for relentlessly. The Sister School Goodwill Event was your chance to prove yourself, to show that you weren’t just some novice from Kyoto who could be easily brushed aside. And here was Gojo Satoru, with his casual grin and infuriatingly relaxed demeanor, treating the whole thing like a joke.

Yet no matter how much you glared, or how much you tried to put him in his place with your icy demeanor, it seemed to only amuse him more. He had this way of tilting his head just so, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he were daring you to say something, to try and put him in his place. But what could you say? Anything that came to mind seemed to bounce off him like water off a duck’s back. He was untouchable, not just in skill but in personality.

And that’s what really got to you. The way he seemed to glide through life without a care, untouched by the things that would have sent anyone else into a spiral of self-doubt. He was arrogant, yes, but it was the kind of arrogance that was infuriatingly earned. He knew he was good—no, he knew he was the best—and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

As the day went on, you found yourself trying not to react to his constant quips and jabs, but it was like trying to ignore a particularly persistent mosquito. The more you tried to brush him off, the more determined he seemed to get a rise out of you. And the worst part was, he was succeeding. Every time you shot him a glare or bit back a retort, he’d just laugh that infuriating laugh, as if to say, “See? I knew I’d get to you.”

It was like he could see right through you, past the carefully constructed walls you’d built to keep people at a distance. He saw how much you cared, how much you wanted to succeed, and he poked at that vulnerability with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Not because he was cruel, but because he found it entertaining.

And that’s what made him so insufferable. He wasn’t just some cocky sorcerer throwing his weight around—he was someone who enjoyed getting under your skin, who relished in the challenge of breaking down your defenses. To him, it was all a game, and you were the unwitting participant.

Looking back now, you can almost see the moment he decided you were worth his attention. It wasn’t when you scowled at him or tried to brush off his comments; it was when he realized that no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, you couldn’t hide the way he got to you. And from that moment on, it was as if he’d made it his personal mission to see just how far he could push you.

He was everything you couldn’t stand in a person—arrogant, overconfident, and far too comfortable with himself. But even then, there was a part of you that knew there was more to him than just that. A part of you that recognized that behind the jokes and the winks, there was someone who saw the world in a way you didn’t quite understand, someone who, for better or worse, was going to be a part of your life whether you liked it or not.

That was the beginning of your tumultuous relationship with Gojo. Every interaction since then had been a battle of wits, with him always managing to get the upper hand, no matter how hard you tried to stay one step ahead. He was insufferable, and yet… you can’t stop thinking about him.

You remember how Gojo had effortlessly dodged your attacks during that time. He was skilled and perceptive. It wasn’t just that he was fast—he moved with a fluidity that made it seem as though he was dancing rather than fighting.

Each time you lunged at him, he sidestepped or spun away with an ease that was almost maddening. His grin never faltered, never wavered. It was as if he were enjoying the entire spectacle, completely unfazed by your every attempt to land a hit.

“Come on, is that the best you’ve got?” he’d taunted, his voice carrying a casual amusement that only fueled your frustration.

The way he said it, so nonchalant and dismissive, made it clear he wasn’t just teasing—you were genuinely failing to impress him. It wasn’t just a challenge to him; it was a game. And for someone like Gojo, who seemed to have everything handed to him on a silver platter, the stakes felt almost trivial.

What made it even more infuriating was the way he seemed to almost predict your every move. No matter how you changed your strategy, how you tried to outthink him, he was always one step ahead. It was as if he had a sixth sense for reading your intentions, a talent that made him appear almost supernatural. Every dodge, every counter, was executed with a precision that left no room for error.

In that moment, it felt as though the fight wasn’t just about physical skill—it was a battle of wills. You were pouring everything you had into trying to best him, to prove that you were more than just a novice from Kyoto. But Gojo’s demeanor, his seemingly effortless ability to avoid and counter your attacks, made it feel as though you were trying to fight against an immovable force.

It wasn’t just that he was good; it was the way he made it look so easy. It was like watching someone play a video game on the easiest difficulty setting while you were struggling on the hardest. His ease in the face of your best efforts was both impressive and infuriating. It was clear he was toying with you, not out of malice but because he genuinely enjoyed the challenge, however mild it might have been for him.

Every time you threw a punch or unleashed a spell, his reaction was a mix of amusement and mild surprise. It wasn’t as if he underestimated you—he knew exactly what you were capable of, and he relished the chance to outmaneuver you. His grin was a constant reminder that he was having fun, that he wasn’t taking this seriously because he didn’t have to. For him, it was all just another day, another opportunity to show off his skills.

“You’re strong!” He tells you with a grin on his face. “Let’s be friends! Give me your phone number, quick!”

"Huh?"

"Hurry, bring out your flip phone already!"

"We're in the middle of a one on one, you idiot!"

"So? I wanna be your friend!"

And that was what made him so exasperating. The whole event felt like it was being played out on his terms, with him in control of every aspect. To him, it was less about proving himself and more about showing just how superior he was in a way that made it almost seem effortless. The arrogance wasn’t just in his words; it was in every action, every movement that demonstrated his dominance.

For you, the fight was a matter of pride, a chance to show that you were more than capable, that you could stand toe-to-toe with someone of his caliber. But every time you saw that grin, every time you heard that taunting voice, it drove home the fact that no matter what you did, you were always going to be playing catch-up. And the more you tried, the more it seemed like you were just feeding into his amusement.

The whole experience left you feeling both frustrated and oddly impressed. Frustrated because you couldn’t seem to catch him, no matter how hard you tried. Impressed because, despite your annoyance, you couldn’t help but admire his skill and confidence. It was a bittersweet combination of emotions, one that made you both present and respect him in equal measure. And as much as you wanted to forget that day, Gojo’s presence in your mind remained an ever-present reminder of the challenge he represented—and the way he seemed to effortlessly stay one step ahead.

But what bothers you the most is how, despite all of his flaws, there’s something about him that draws you in. No matter how hard you try to deny it, those memories of him, those moments where he’d flash you that grin or make a ridiculous joke, are seared into your mind.

You find yourself remembering the smallest details—the way his voice sounded when he teased you, the warmth of his hand when he’d casually patted your shoulder after a mission, the way his eyes, hidden behind those sunglasses, seemed to see right through you.

It’s maddening because you’ve spent so much time trying to forget, trying to focus on anything but him. But no matter what you do, the memories remain, vivid and persistent. And it leaves you wondering, despite everything, why you can’t just let go. Why, after all this time, you’re still thinking about Gojo Satoru.

Back then, when you first met Gojo Satoru during the Sister School Goodwill Event, you had quickly dismissed him as just another arrogant brat who seemed to have the world handed to him on a silver platter. His cocky attitude, the way he flaunted his abilities, and his effortless charm made it all too easy to write him off.

To you, he was nothing more than a figure of annoyance—a sorcerer who, with his overconfidence and privileged position, would never be someone you’d get along with. It seemed clear from the start that your paths would never truly align.

Fast forward to the summer break of that year, and you find yourself face-to-face with him again. The sun blazes overhead, turning every outdoor spot into a sweltering inferno.

You're trying to navigate the heat while staying cool, but Gojo Satoru appears as if the oppressive temperature doesn’t affect him at all. His white hair seems to shimmer in the sunlight, and he’s wearing his trademark sunglasses, the kind that makes him look perpetually unbothered.

You’re waiting in line at a smoothie stand, desperately trying to cool down with a cone in hand. You were fanning yourself, trying to evade the intensity of the strong Kyoto sun. That’s when he shows up, casually strolling towards you with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face.

“Hey there, struggling to beat the heat?” Gojo calls out, his tone light and teasing.

You roll your eyes, not in the mood for his games. “It’s scorching out here, Gojo. Not exactly the time for you to be playing your little tricks.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, leaning against the counter with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m just here to offer some company. Can’t have you melting away all alone, can I?”

You try to ignore him, focusing on your drink as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Gojo isn’t deterred. He follows you as you leave the stand, his presence like an unwelcome shadow. “So, where are you headed next? I hear there’s a nice little café down the street. We could cool off there.”

“I’m not interested, Gojo.” you snap, quickening your pace.

“Are you sure?” he persists, easily matching your stride. “It’s not every day you get to hang out with the strongest sorcerer in town. I promise I won’t bite.”

You shoot him a skeptical glance. “You’re really not going to give up, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he grins. “You look like you could use a break, and I could use some company. Besides, I’m a great conversationalist. You might even enjoy it.”

Despite yourself, you find his persistence a bit endearing. You sigh, finally relenting. “Fine. One quick stop at the café, and then you leave me alone.”

“Deal!” Gojo exclaims, his grin widening. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

At the café, as you sit across from him, the air conditioning feels like a blessing. Gojo Satoru is still as relaxed as ever, leaning back in his chair with that same self-assured smirk. “See? Much better, right?”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, this is definitely better. But don’t think this means I’m going to start liking you or anything.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, captain!” Gojo says, his tone playful. “I’m just here to make sure you’re not melting away into a puddle of frustration.”

As the conversation flows, his teasing starts to feel less like an annoyance and more like genuine fun. He talks about his latest adventures, exaggerates stories in his usual dramatic fashion, and even shares some surprisingly insightful observations about the work you both do. Somehow, he manages to not get on your nerves today.

“You know,” he says between bites of his own ice cream, “for someone who hates me so much, you sure seem to enjoy spending time with me right now.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “I don’t know about that. I think I’m just making the best of a bad situation.”

“Well, I’d like to think it’s more than that.” Gojo says with a wink. “Maybe you’re starting to see that I’m not just a cocky brat. Maybe I’m actually kind of fun.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gojo.” you warn, though you’re smiling. “This doesn’t change anything. I still think you’re incredibly annoying.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” Gojo chuckles. “But I’ll take that as a win for now. Maybe one day, I’ll get you to admit that I’m not so bad after all.”

As you finish up your meal, you reflect on how different this encounter is from your first meeting. The arrogance is still there, but it’s mixed with a kind of charm that’s hard to ignore. Despite yourself, you find that you’re enjoying his company, and maybe, just maybe, there’s more to him than the cocky façade he puts on.

By the end of the day, as you part ways, you can’t shake the feeling that this summer break—this unexpected reunion—might just be the start of something different. Gojo’s persistence has managed to chip away at your defenses, and you’re left wondering if there’s more to this irritating sorcerer than meets the eye.

You tell yourself he’s still as annoying as ever, but your heart betrays you, pounding in your chest whenever he’s near. You don’t understand why, but you can't help but feel drawn to him. Every time you think of how he made you laugh when you least expected it, or how his confidence seemed to shield you from the world, your feelings get more confusing.

Is it possible that the guy who irritates you so much is the same one who’s now making your heart race? You can’t figure it out, but one thing’s for sure—something has changed, and you can’t ignore it anymore. You try to shake it off, convincing yourself it’s just the heat messing with your mind. After all, why would you like someone like Gojo Satoru?

He’s arrogant, overconfident, and never takes anything seriously. But then, you remember how, during that first encounter, he didn’t just laugh at you—he noticed things. Little things. Like how you tried to stay strong even when you were clearly out of your comfort zone, or how you struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the event but never gave up.

You tell yourself it’s nothing, that he’s just good at reading people. Yet, the memory of his voice, the way he looked at you with those sharp eyes hidden behind his glasses, keeps replaying in your mind. The more you think about it, the harder it becomes to deny what you’re feeling.

It’s frustrating. You’re not supposed to like someone who drives you crazy, who makes you question everything about yourself. But here you are, your heart beating faster every time you think of him, and that infuriating smirk of his. Why did he have to be so… so irritatingly charming?

You find yourself wondering what it would be like to see him again, to have him tease you just so you can feel that strange flutter in your chest. But then, you immediately scold yourself for even thinking that way. There’s no way you could actually like him… right?

But deep down, you know the truth. No matter how much you try to deny it, the thought of Gojo Satoru won’t leave your mind. And with each passing day, the line between irritation and affection blurs just a little bit more. Yet you can’t do much about it. One way or another, somehow—you were just stuck with him being around. In Kyoto or Tokyo, or everywhere else. He’s just somehow always round.

Months passed by, and it was summer again.

You’re sitting with Shoko Ieiri under the shade of a tree, fanning yourself with a hand to combat the relentless summer heat. It’s one of those rare, blissful afternoons where you’ve managed to carve out some free time. With Utahime-senpai occupied with a mission from Gakuganji and no assignments on your plate, you decided to take advantage of the break to catch up with Shoko. The two of you have become quite good friends over time, and her presence is a welcome relief from the sweltering heat. And you think that even under this hot summer this year, you’ll end up becoming better friends.

Shoko leans back against the tree, her posture relaxed as she takes a sip from her drink. She listens with a wry smile as you continue your tirade. You’ve been going on about Gojo Satoru for what feels like hours now, pouring out your frustrations about how annoying and insufferable he is.

“You wouldn’t believe it, Shoko. He just—ugh! He keeps showing up everywhere I go! It’s like he has a personal vendetta to make my life miserable.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow, her smile barely containing the amusement she’s clearly feeling. “And yet, you don’t seem to be able to stop talking about him.”

“That’s because he’s impossible to ignore!” you exclaim, waving your fan more vigorously. “He’s always so… so smug! Always grinning like he’s got some big secret. I can’t stand it!”

Shoko chuckles, taking another sip of her drink. “You know, the way you’re describing him, it almost sounds like you’ve got a bit of a crush.”

You nearly choke on your own breath. “A crush? Are you kidding me? I can’t stand him! He’s arrogant and insufferable. There’s no way I’d ever—”

Shoko cuts you off with a knowing look. “Oh, come on. It’s perfectly normal to be irritated by someone you’re secretly interested in. You’re practically obsessed with him.”

“I am not!” you insist, your face turning a shade redder as you realize how ridiculous you must sound. “I’m just... venting! He’s always there, poking at my patience, and it drives me insane!”

“Uh-huh.” Shoko says, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “And yet, you’ve been ranting about him for an hour now. You don’t do that with just anyone.”

You huff, crossing your arms defensively. “That’s because he’s a special kind of irritating. There’s nothing romantic about it, Shoko. It’s purely aggravation!”

Shoko leans in, her expression teasing. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say. But if you don’t want to talk about Gojo, maybe we should switch topics.”

Before you can respond, a familiar voice calls out from behind you. “Hey, I didn’t realize I’d find you here.”

You turn to see Gojo Satoru standing a few feet away, his sunglasses reflecting the sunlight in a way that makes him look even more infuriatingly cool. Beside him was Geto Suguru, who had a face that reflected yours. He was, you supposed, as done as you were with the man with bright cerulean eyes. You purse your lips. He’s grinning, that same smirk plastered across his face as he casually approaches.

“What are you doing here?” you demand, trying to keep your irritation in check. “This is a private conversation, Gojo. Leave us alone.”

“Yeah, Satoru.” Geto parrotted back, his hands in his pockets. “Leave them alone!”

Gojo just laughs, seemingly unfazed. “How cold! I was just passing by and thought I’d say hello. But it seems like I’m interrupting something. Were you talking about me?”

Shoko suppresses a grin behind her drink as you try to regain your composure. “No, we were just—”

As Gojo stands there, still grinning, Shoko decides to have a little fun. She leans in, looking as though she’s about to share a juicy secret. “Actually, I was just telling her how annoying you are,” she interjects with a playful nudge. “In detail too. Nothing was held back.”

Gojo’s smirk only widens, clearly amused by Shoko’s teasing. Before he can respond, Geto Suguru—who has been hovering just out of sight—steps into view. He’s carrying a large bag of sweets and looks somewhat frazzled, his usual cool demeanor slightly ruffled. He looked so worn out, you think. Much too much heat and Gojo, you feel for the guy.

“Honestly, you should have called me. Geto says with a grin, eyeing both you and Shoko. “I have a lot more to share about this freak.”

You turn to Geto, eyes wide in surprise. “What did you just call him?”

“HUH!? Suguboo, how dare you call me a freak?” Gojo’s voice rises in mock outrage, his face turning into an exaggerated scowl.

Geto rolls his eyes, clearly unbothered by Gojo’s antics. “You dragged me around Tokyo to buy sweets all day. I can’t feel my body anymore.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his expression one of mild exasperation. “You’re currently not on my good side.”

Gojo throws a hand up in dramatic defense. “Hey, I had to make sure you didn’t miss out on the best sweets Tokyo has to offer! It’s not my fault if you overindulge.”

Geto shakes his head, still grumbling. “I’m pretty sure it was more than just overindulgence. I was about ready to collapse by the end of it.”

Shoko laughs, thoroughly enjoying the banter. “See, you’re not the only one who has complaints about Gojo. Even Geto here has his grievances.”

You look from Shoko to Gojo and then to Geto, feeling a mix of amusement and relief. The dynamic between the three of them is light and playful, and it’s clear that there’s a strong sense of camaraderie, despite the occasional grumbling.

“Well, it’s nice to know I’m not alone in my irritation,” you say, letting out a small chuckle.

Gojo’s grin turns into a more genuine smile as he turns to you. “Hey, don’t be too hard on me. If I’m really that annoying, at least I’m entertaining.”

Geto snorts, clearly unimpressed. “Entertaining or not, you owe me for today. We’re going to need a serious dessert break after all that.”

You nod in agreement, feeling more at ease with the situation. “Agreed. And Gojo, don’t think you’re off the hook just because you showed up here. I’m still not happy about you popping up everywhere I go. You’re so annoying!”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Annoying, huh? Well, I guess that’s one way to describe me. But if I’m annoying, why do you keep bringing me up?”

You groan, feeling the heat on your face increase, whether from the sun or from embarrassment you can’t tell. You didn’t want to know. “Oh, just go away. We were having a perfectly nice conversation before you showed up.”

Gojo chuckles and leans casually against the tree. “Well, I was hoping you might invite me to join you. But if I’m that annoying, I guess I’ll just have to prove I’m not.”

Shoko looks between you and Gojo, clearly enjoying the scene. “You know, it’s kind of nice to see you two together. It’s like watching a rom–com soap opera, but with crazy strong superpowers.”

You shoot Shoko a mock glare, though it's clear you’re not truly upset. The corners of your mouth twitch into a smile despite your best efforts to look annoyed. “Thanks for your support, Shoko.”

Suguru Geto, still holding the bag of sweets, grins broadly. “Shoko, you and your talent for fueling fires. I swear, you live for this kind of chaos.”

Shoko, not missing a beat, gives an exaggerated bow. “Anytime, folks. I’m here for your entertainment. It’s my specialty, after all.”

Geto chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m starting to think you enjoy stirring up trouble more than actually helping out.”

“Maybe,” Shoko admits with a playful glint in her eye. “But where’s the fun in being boring?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange. It’s moments like these, filled with light-hearted teasing and genuine friendship, that make summer breaks so enjoyable. The heat of the day, the annoyances of the past, and even the unexpected encounters with Gojo seem to fade into the background as you relax with friends who make even the most mundane moments entertaining.

“Well…..” you say, still smiling, “if I have to deal with more of Gojo’s antics, I’m glad I have you two around. It definitely makes the experience more bearable.”

Shoko grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We aim to please. Just remember, if Gojo starts getting on your nerves again, you know where to find us.”

“Absolutely.” Geto adds, lifting the bag of sweets in a mock salute. “And if you need more sweets to get through it, I’ll be your guy. Though, I can’t promise I won’t complain about it.”

“Oh, Suguru! There’s a Digimon-themed café nearby!” Gojo exclaims, excitement clear in his voice as he checks his flip phone. His eyes are practically sparkling with enthusiasm as he waves the phone in front of Suguru and you.

Suguru Geto, clearly exhausted from the earlier sweet spree and the relentless summer heat, groans. “Hehhhh, I don’t wanna go anymore, Satoru. I’m tired.”

Gojo, however, is undeterred by Suguru’s reluctance. He leans in, practically vibrating with eagerness. “Suguru, please! You can sit down throughout while I do my thing. They have card trades going on there right now! You know how rare those are.”

Suguru looks at Gojo with a mix of amusement and frustration. “Card trades? Really? Is that what’s got you so worked up?”

“Yes!” Gojo says, his voice rising with a mixture of pleading and excitement. “I’ve been looking for a specific card for ages. This is my chance!”

You watch the interaction with a smirk, enjoying the dynamic between the two. Suguru’s exhaustion is palpable, but Gojo’s enthusiasm is infectious. It’s clear that Gojo is determined to drag Suguru along, no matter how tired he is.

“Come on, Suguru!” Gojo continues, his tone softening as he tries to appeal to Suguru’s better nature. “Just a little while. You can rest while I geek out over the Digimon stuff. And there’s bound to be something good for you too, right? Maybe a nice, cool drink or something.”

Suguru sighs, clearly defeated but not entirely unmoved. “Alright, alright. But if this turns into another full day of Gojo dragging me around, I swear I’m going to collapse.”

“Deal!” Gojo says, beaming with satisfaction. “I promise we’ll keep it short. Just a quick visit, then we can head back. I owe you one, for real.”

Shoko could only sigh as though this is the hundredth time today. “Looks like we’re going to a cafe.”

“How do you deal with this everyday, Shoko?”

She shakes her head. “Believe me, you do not wanna know.”

As the four of you make your way to the café, you can’t help but chuckle at the contrast between Gojo’s boundless energy and Suguru’s weary resignation. It’s moments like these that highlight the unique blend of personalities and friendships that make summer days so memorable.

When you finally arrive at the Digimon-themed café, the atmosphere is lively, with colorful decorations and enthusiastic fans trading cards and chatting about their favorite characters. Gojo is immediately in his element, diving into the card trades with a fervor that makes you smile.

Suguru, though still looking a bit tired, finds a comfortable spot to sit and relax, occasionally glancing over at Gojo with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Shojo sat beside you, sipping her cold peach iced tea. For a moment, the three of you look at Gojo and think he seems almost like a child.

“You’re a trooper, you know that?” you say, handing him a cool drink you picked up from the café. “I don’t know what I would do if Kusakabe dragged me half across town for a Digimon card.”

Suguru takes a sip and smirks. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day you get to see Gojo this excited. I guess it’s worth it. Plus, more excitement for him means he’ll be less active at the dorms tonight and not bother me.”

“That….” You paused. “So he runs out of energy too, huh?”

Suguru nodded. “Well, Satoru is a human being too. He gets tired too.”

“I think I like this version of him better.”

Shoko snickers. “You sure you don’t like him?”

“Now, now. Don’t scare them away, Sho.” Suguru smiles back at his friend. “If anything, they might be the last shot for Satoru to be a human being. After all, love makes one completely human.”

“B–but that’s not….. I don’t like him like that! He’s annoying and I just….”

“Denial that sounds like absolute lies is wasting Mother Earth’s air, you know?”

You shoot Shoko a playful glare, but your frustration is tempered by an internal chaos that’s increasingly difficult to ignore. Gojo, completely absorbed in his Digimon card quest, is a whirlwind of excitement and enthusiasm. His eyes are locked on the card he’s been wanting, and the moment he finally acquires it, his face lights up with an infectious joy that makes it hard for you to look away.

As Gojo gushes over the card and exchanges high-fives with fellow fans, you’re left sitting at the table with Shoko, trying to make sense of your own turbulent emotions. Your mind feels like a jumbled mess, caught between irritation and a confusing, unwelcome admiration. The way Gojo’s energy radiates around him, how his excitement seems to draw everyone in, including you—it’s all so bewildering.

Every time Gojo moves closer, whether he’s showing off his latest acquisition or simply passing by with that characteristic, carefree swagger, your heart races a little faster. It’s a reaction you can’t quite explain, and no matter how much you want to deny it, it’s becoming increasingly clear that you’re affected by him more than you’d like to admit.

You glance over at Shoko, who’s watching the scene with an amused expression. “How does he do it?” you ask, more to yourself than to her. “How does he make everything seem so... effortless?”

Shoko’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans back in her chair. “Oh, come on. You know exactly how he does it. It’s the same way he manages to get under your skin so easily.”

You try to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the way he gets so wrapped up in things. It’s like nothing else matters to him.”

Shoko chuckles softly. “It’s his passion. It’s what makes him who he is. And it’s probably why you can’t seem to get him out of your mind, even when you try.”

You groan, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I thought I had him all figured out, but every time he’s near, it’s like everything I thought I knew just... unravels.”

Shoko’s grin widens as she takes a sip from her drink. “Sounds like you’re having a hard time sticking to your own rules. Maybe you’re just more affected by him than you want to admit.”

You shoot her another glare, but this time it’s softer, tinged with resignation. “Yeah, well, thanks for pointing that out. I really needed the reminder.”

As Gojo returns to your table, holding up his prized card with a triumphant grin, your heart skips a beat. His enthusiasm is undeniable, and despite your internal struggle, you can’t help but be drawn to his infectious energy. He flashes a quick, radiant smile in your direction before turning his attention to Suguru, who’s still looking somewhat worn out but is clearly amused by Gojo’s excitement.

“Look what I got!” Gojo announces, waving the card in front of Suguru and you. “It’s the one I’ve been searching for!”

You try to muster up a response, but the sight of Gojo’s unabashed joy and the warmth of his smile make it difficult to focus on anything else. Your heart continues to beat faster, and despite your best efforts to keep your feelings in check, it’s becoming increasingly clear that Gojo’s presence has a profound effect on you.

Shoko leans in closer, her voice a soft tease. “Looks like you’re in for an interesting summer. Who knows? Maybe there’s more to this adventure than just the heat.”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and acceptance. As Gojo continues to share his excitement with Suguru and the other café patrons, you find yourself caught up in the moment, realizing that no matter how much you try to resist it, Gojo Satoru is undeniably a part of your world now—one you can’t seem to escape, no matter how hard you try.

“I’m craving some ice cream, it’s still too hot.” You muttered under your breath towards Shoko. “I’m going to go and buy some.”

“You want me to go with you?” Shoko asked, looking up towards you.

You shake your head. “I’ll need some time to think for a bit. Besides, it's just around the corner.”

She nodded back at you. “Okay, then call us when you come back. Gojo might be here a while, the nerd he is.”

“Sure.” You managed to mutter as you walked off.

It didn’t take you long to get to the ice cream store. You settle into a corner booth, hoping the relative solitude will give you a chance to cool down both physically and mentally. The air conditioning provides a much-needed respite from the relentless summer heat, and the cold, creamy sweetness of your ice cream is a soothing balm for your frayed nerves.

Despite the comfort of the cool air and the calming effect of the ice cream, your mind refuses to be at peace. It keeps drifting back to Gojo Satoru—his teasing words, that infuriating grin, and the effortless way he seemed to handle everything while you were left feeling like a tangled mess of frustration and confusion. You replay the scene in your head over and over, each replay adding another layer to your mounting exasperation.

You stab your spoon into the ice cream with a little more force than necessary, your frustration spilling over into the simple act of eating. The satisfying crunch of the spoon hitting the ice cream echoes your internal struggle. You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice the door of the shop opening until a familiar voice breaks the silence.

“There you are.”

You freeze, spoon halfway to your mouth. Slowly, you look up to see Gojo Satoru standing in the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow over your table. He’s got that same easygoing smile on his face, but there’s something different about his expression—something softer, almost hesitant.

“Where’s Suguru and Shoko?”

“They wanted to stay behind to rest up.”

“....Makes sense. You drained them up from energy.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he steps inside and takes a seat next to you at the small table.

You can’t help but feel a surge of panic mixed with irritation as you watch Gojo settle into the seat next to you. Of all the places in the city, why did he have to find you here, in this tiny ice cream store where you’d sought refuge from the chaos of the day? The familiar flutter in your chest is back, and despite your efforts to remain calm, your heart races as he sits down across from you.

Gojo’s presence feels overwhelming, and the proximity only amplifies your confusion. You can’t seem to reconcile the image of him as the carefree, teasing troublemaker with the more subdued, almost earnest expression he wore earlier. The combination of his unexpected arrival and the emotional turmoil from the day makes it hard to focus on anything else.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The only sounds filling the space are the steady hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clink of your spoon against the bowl of melting ice cream. It’s a stark contrast to the earlier energy of the café and the animated conversations you’d been a part of. Now, the silence feels almost oppressive, adding weight to the tension hanging between you.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, trying to focus on the ice cream, but the act of eating feels mechanical, a mere distraction from the growing unease. Each clink of your spoon against the bowl seems louder than it should be, amplifying the silence and making it harder to ignore the pounding of your heart.

Gojo, seemingly unfazed by the silence, takes a casual sip from his own ice cream. His relaxed demeanor is in sharp contrast to your internal turmoil, and it only serves to heighten your frustration. You want to break the silence, to say something that will diffuse the tension and make sense of the situation, but the words elude you.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?”

You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?”

He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?”

“......I’m sorry, what?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you suddenly feel the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. But the words won’t come out. Instead, you’re left staring at him, wide-eyed and completely at a loss for what to say.

Gojo’s expression softens, and he gives you a small, almost shy smile. “I’m not the best at being subtle, I know. But I meant it. I like you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and in your shock, you try to respond—but instead of words, all that comes out is a choked gasp as you accidentally inhale a spoonful of ice cream.You start coughing, the cold dessert lodged in your throat as you struggle to catch your breath. Gojo’s eyes widen in alarm, and he quickly reaches over to pat your back, trying to help you out.

“Hey, hey, easy! Are you okay?”

You manage to swallow the ice cream, though your throat still feels cold and tight. Your face is burning with embarrassment, and you can barely bring yourself to look at him. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine… I just… you just…”

Gojo lets out a relieved laugh, though there’s a hint of concern in his eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shock you that much. I guess I should’ve picked a better time to say it, huh?”

You don’t know how to respond. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, disbelief, and something else you can’t quite identify. The fact that he just confessed, out of nowhere, is overwhelming, to say the least. He waits for you to say something, his usual playful demeanor tempered with genuine concern.

“I’m serious, though. I know I tease you a lot, but that’s just because I like being around you. You’re fun, and… well, I like you.”

You feel your heart pounding again, and you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or the way he’s looking at you. It’s different from his usual teasing gaze—there’s a sincerity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I…” You struggle to find the right words, but nothing comes out the way you want it to. “I don’t know what to say.”

He smiles, that playful edge returning just a bit. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted you to know how I feel. But… if it’s too much, I’ll back off.”

You shake your head, feeling a mix of emotions too tangled to sort out. “No, it’s just… I wasn’t expecting this. At all.”

Gojo’s smile softens, and he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. “It’s okay. We don’t have to figure it all out right now, okay?”

You nod slowly, your mind still reeling from everything that’s happened. As he sits there beside you, holding your hand in his, you realize that despite all the teasing and frustration, there’s something undeniably real about the way he’s looking at you now. Maybe, just maybe, this summer heat isn’t the only thing making your heart race.

Gojo’s hand is warm against yours, and the feeling sends a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. He’s still looking at you with that playful grin, but there’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes your heart flutter.

“Sorry for springing this on you out of nowhere.” he says, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “But I couldn’t help it. Seeing you all flustered and cute earlier… I just had to tell you how I feel.”

You glance down at your hands, trying to process everything, but all you can focus on is the way his fingers are interlaced with yours. It’s surprisingly comforting, and you find yourself feeling a little less overwhelmed by the situation.

Gojo leans in a bit closer, his voice dropping to a soft, teasing tone. “You know, you’re even cuter when you’re flustered. I might have to make it my mission to see that expression on your face more often.”

You feel your cheeks heat up again, and you instinctively try to pull your hand away, but Gojo holds on gently, his smile widening. “No escaping this time. You’ve caught my attention, okay? I’m not letting go so easily.”

You huff, trying to sound annoyed, but it comes out more flustered than anything. “You’re such a pain, Gojo.”

“Ah, but I’m your pain, right?” he quips back, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “I never said that.”

“Well, I’m saying it." he replies, leaning in even closer until you can feel his breath against your cheek. “And I think you secretly like having me around, even if you won’t admit it.”

You’re about to protest, but the words catch in your throat when you see how close he is. His face is only inches from yours, and the playful grin has softened into something more sincere.

“I like being around you, you know?” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “Even if I drive you crazy sometimes.”

You swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s something incredibly endearing about seeing Gojo like this—still teasing, but with a softness that makes your heart melt.He pulls back just enough to give you a bit of space, his expression turning thoughtful.

“You know, I’ve had a lot of people in my life, but no one’s ever made me feel the way you do. It’s different with you… in a good way.”

You blink, taken aback by the honesty in his words. “Really?”

“Really.” he says, his smile warm and genuine. “You’re special to me. And I don’t want to let go of something that feels this right.”

Your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you forget all the teasing and frustration. All you can think about is how sincere he’s being, how much he actually cares.

Gojo must notice your softened expression because he chuckles lightly, his eyes twinkling. “Now, I know this is a lot to take in, but… would you mind if I tried something?”

You tilt your head, curious. “What?”

Instead of answering right away, he reaches out with his free hand, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is featherlight, almost hesitant, as if he’s waiting for your reaction. When you don’t pull away, he smiles softly and leans in closer.

“Just wanted to see if you’d let me do this.” he whispers, and before you can respond, he presses a quick, gentle kiss to your forehead.

The contact is brief, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You stare at him, wide-eyed and speechless, while he pulls back, looking pleased with himself “There,” he says with a grin. “Now you can’t say I don’t have feelings for you.”

You finally find your voice, though it comes out more like a squeak. “Y-You… Gojo!”

He laughs, not at all fazed by your reaction. “What? Too much? I thought it was pretty sweet.”

You bury your face in your hands, trying to hide the furious blush spreading across your cheeks. “You’re impossible!”

Gojo just chuckles and gently pries your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at him again. “I might be impossible, but you’re stuck with me now. So… what do you say? Think you could handle having someone like me around a little more?”

You glance at him, and despite your embarrassment, you can’t help but smile. “You’re not going to give me much of a choice, are you?”

“Not really.” he admits, his grin turning playful again. “But I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

You sigh, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. Instead, there’s a warmth spreading through your chest that you can’t ignore. “Fine,” you say, pretending to be reluctant. “But if you keep teasing me like this, I’m going to get back at you.”

Gojo’s eyes light up, and he leans in with a smirk. “Oh, I’m looking forward to that. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

And just like that, the tension melts away, leaving you with a strange sense of contentment. You don’t have everything figured out yet, but with Gojo sitting beside you, still holding your hand, you think maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t mind figuring it out together.

803 notes · View notes

thef1diary · 4 months ago

Text

One Last Night | G. Russell

Summary: As you finalize your divorce from George, he convinces you to spend one last night together in the home you once shared, leading to a night filled with intimacy and emotional complexity.

this one is for @chilling-seavey the sole reason why George is in the top 5 of my fav drivers, I hope you like this one 🤭

masterlist

warnings: 18+ smut, angst, unprotected sex, a bit of hand kink, choking, fingering, oral, lots of emotions

wc: 7.1k (I got a lil carried away with this one ngl)

The sun sets over the horizon, casting a warm, orange glow over the house you once called home. The day’s emotional exhaustion weighs heavily on you, the act of signing papers and exchanging awkward glances, finalizing the divorce that both of you knew was inevitable yet difficult to accept. You sit on the porch steps, wanting a breath of fresh air while your eyes lingered on the small garden you and George once tended with care. The flowers, once vibrant and full of life, now stand shriveled and faded, mirroring the love that once flourished between you has since withered away.

George’s voice breaks the silence, a gentle intrusion on your thoughts as he calls your name, his tone devoid of the pet names he once used. You lift your head to see him standing there, his face a blend of sorrow and nostalgia. He takes a step closer, before lowering himself to sit beside you, a few inches too far away.

The space between you feels like an insurmountable chasm, filled with all the words left unsaid, all the efforts that fell short, and the moments you can never get back.

He speaks again, his voice softer and if your heart didn’t already ache with the necessity of leaving him, it would’ve when he said your full name, emphasizing your maiden name. The sound of it, spoken by him, sends a shiver down your spine, a bittersweet reminder of the life you lived before becoming George’s wife, before dating him.

“It’s been a while since I called you by that name,” he murmurs, his bright blue eyes searching for yours with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the silence. You find yourself unable to resist, drawn into his gaze as if pulled by an invisible force. The familiarity of his eyes, the depth of longing ensnares you, like it always did.

“Yes, it has,” you reply, your voice a mere whisper, barely breaking through the hush of the evening. The weight of his words lingers in the air, filling the space between you with a poignant nostalgia that tugs at your heart. The simple utterance of your maiden name, once so familiar, now feels like a delicate thread connecting you to a past filled with both love and loss.

Even though there’s a physical distance between your bodies, your hands find each other, resting lightly on the porch. Slowly, your fingers inch closer, making a tentative connection that speaks volumes without words. The warmth of his skin, the familiar feel of his touch, sends a ripple of emotion through you, a vivid reminder of the intimacy you once shared.

You try to keep your thoughts clear, reminding yourself that you’re no longer his, no longer Mrs. Russell. The weight of that truth hangs heavy in the space between you, a stark contrast to the intimacy of your touch.

The tenderness in your fingers grazing his is a reflection of what you once had, but also of what has irrevocably changed. You feel the echo of old feelings stirring, the ones you had just begun to push down, but you hold onto the reality that this moment, this connection, is all that remains. The warmth that used to be a part of your everyday life now feels like a fleeting memory, a bittersweet echo of a love that has transformed into a shared, yet separate, past.

“So, what’s next for you?” he asks, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and sadness, a reflection of the weight of letting you go from his life. The question hangs in the air, imbued with a sense of finality and the unspoken acknowledgment that this might be one of the last times he will ask about your future. A future that you’ll be spending without him.

“I’ve decided to finally open that bakery I’ve always dreamed of. It’s something new to look forward to.”

His eyes lit up with a hint of the old George you remember, a small smile playing on his lips. “Will I get any special treatment whenever I visit?”

You shake your head, the smile fading slightly as reality intrudes. “You probably won’t have time to stop by with your busy schedule.”

An awkward silence descends, punctuated by the weight of unfulfilled promises and unmet expectations. The stillness is heavy with the echoes of unspoken regrets and the haunting reminder of what could have been. The conversation stirs a whirlwind of memories, each one a testament to how, over time, George’s career began to overshadow your relationship.

The subtle shift began with small, seemingly insignificant changes—dinner dates frequently postponed, weekend getaways cancelled, and conversations that once flowed effortlessly now reduced to hurried exchanges. His passion for racing, which you once admired and supported, gradually turned into an all-consuming force that claimed more of his time and energy. The promise he made to never let his work come between you gradually eroded, like a fading echo in the vast expanse of his ambition.

You initially accepted the demands of his career, understanding that racing was his first love and the source of his greatest fulfillment. You saw it as an inevitable part of his life, one that you could accommodate as long as it didn’t overshadow your shared moments. But as the months passed, the imbalance became increasingly unbearable. The distance grew, not just in physical terms but in emotional connection. The shared dreams and future plans you once held close began to dissolve, replaced by a solitary sense of longing and disappointment.

Each missed milestone, each neglected promise, built a wall of isolation between you. What started as an occasional inconvenience became a persistent source of heartache. The intimacy you once shared, the spontaneous affection and deep conversations, gave way to a routine marked by George’s relentless pursuit of success. The career that once bound you together now stood as a formidable barrier, leaving you feeling like a secondary consideration in the grand scheme of his ambitions.

You don’t allow your thoughts to linger on the past for too long, on wondering what could’ve been if you both put in a little more effort instead of watching it play out like a movie

You break the silence, your voice trembling slightly as you ask, “and what about you? What’s next for you?”

George’s gaze drifts to the horizon, as though the future is mapped out in the darkness of the night. “I’ll be back on the track as usual. Flying out next week, you know how it goes. It’s a busy schedule but it’s what I do.”

His words are matter-of-fact, yet there’s an undercurrent of melancholy in his tone. He turns his eyes back to you, a flicker of something almost wistful crossing his face. “I’ll miss having you there,” he adds quietly. “Your support, your presence—it made a difference. I always looked forward to seeing you in the stands.”

The sincerity in his voice tugs at something deep inside you. You nod, forcing a smile. “I’m sure the races will be just as thrilling without me. You’ll have plenty of fans cheering you on.”

He smiles faintly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not the same,” he says softly. “There was always something special about having you there, cheering me on. I’m going to miss that.”

The honesty in his confession stirs a pang of regret within you. You both know that his career, while a source of pride, has become the very thing that separated you.

George sighs, his thumb brushing lightly against your fingers, reminding you that his hand never left yours. “I never wanted it to end like this,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “In fact, I never wanted it to end at all.”

He clears his throat, the raw emotion evident in his next words. “I thought I could balance everything—my career and us—but I failed. I’m sorry for making you feel like you were never enough. The truth is, you were and still are everything to me.”

Tears prick at your eyes, threatening to spill over, but you blink them away with a deliberate effort. Drawing a deep breath, you muster the strength to respond. “It’s not entirely your fault, you know,” you say softly, your voice quivering with the weight of your emotions.

“You don’t need to apologize. I suppose I should apologize for intruding on your well-laid plans. You always wanted a world championship under your belt, and I genuinely hope you achieve that soon, without having to worry about me.”

As he begins to shake his head in protest, you turn away, pulling your hand gently from his grasp before standing up. “I should’ve realized sooner that your trophies would always hold a higher place in your life than I ever could.”

You made the mistake of glancing at him after your words, and saw him visibly flinch, the impact of your parting words etched clearly on your face. The pain in his expression mirrored the ache in your heart, a stark reminder of the mutual suffering this conversation had caused. The intensity of the moment made it clear that any further discussion would only deepen the emotional wounds.

Deciding to end it there and spare both of you more heartache, you turned away and headed towards the porch steps. You had already planned your leave with a sense of reluctant resolve: you would spend the night at a nearby hotel before flying out the following morning to stay with your sister, seeking comfort and a fresh start in her home.

As you begin to walk down the steps, George’s voice reaches out to you, filled with a mix of urgency and regret. “Where are you going? You’re supposed to leave tomorrow, please, stay here for just one more night.”

You pause, the sincerity in his voice making you hesitate. Turning back, you see the raw vulnerability in his eyes, and something in you shifts. The weight of your decision presses heavily on your chest.

George steps closer, his face pleading as he gently cups your cheeks in his hands. “I want to make it up to you,” he says softly. “I know I should’ve valued you more, I could’ve balanced my life better, I would’ve done everything to keep us together if I’d realized sooner.”

You feel the weight of his words, the sincerity evident in every syllable. You placed your hand atop of his, and for a brief moment, he braces himself for you to push him away. Instead, you simply hold on, a gesture that speaks of the lingering affection between you.

“Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve,” you repeat softly. “It’s too late to blame our past selves for the consequences we face now.”

“Please, stay,” George’s voice trembles, his eyes pleading as he grapples with the reality of your departure, even though the papers are signed and the decision is final.

The raw emotion in his eyes, the vulnerability of his plea, makes your resolve waver. With a sigh, you nod slowly, feeling the tight noose around your heart loosen, giving it a chance to beat. “Alright,” you agree softly. “I’ll stay for one more night.”

In an instant, you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. You cling to him tightly, the familiar warmth of his embrace bringing a flood of bittersweet memories. Despite everything, despite knowing that the circumstances could never change, the love you still feel for him is undeniable.

George holds you just as tightly, burying his face in your hair. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for giving me this one last chance.”

You stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the silence speak for the love and regrets that words can’t fully capture. For tonight, you can forget the world outside, the signed papers, and the impending separation. For tonight, it’s just you and him, holding on to the remnants of what once was.

George leads you back into the house, his hand warm and steady in yours. Inside, a calm, almost sacred stillness envelops you both. You hadn’t known what to expect, but this quiet comfort is a relief. As you step further in, your eyes fall on the photo frames carefully placed around the room. Each one tells a story of you and George, moments frozen in time, even a few from your wedding day, radiant and full of promise.

Your breath hitches as a thought crosses your mind, a pang of uncertainty mingling with nostalgia. You wonder how soon George will clean up, scrubbing away the memories of your relationship. Part of you knows he still loves you and wouldn’t simply discard them. Yet, you also know the ache these images must bring, a constant reminder of what was and what could have been.

You don’t ask him. The question lingers unspoken between you, too heavy to voice. You can’t bear to hear his answer, whether he’ll keep them or not. It’s easier to pretend, to let the silence hold the unknown.

He glances at you, his eyes following your gaze to the photos. The sadness in his expression mirrors your own thoughts, a silent understanding passing between you.

“Would you like some tea?” he asks, his voice gentle, pulling you back from your reverie.

“That sounds nice,” you reply softly, following him into the kitchen.

The initial awkwardness lingers as you move around each other, carefully choosing your words, mindful of the delicate peace. But as you start to talk about random things, the tension begins to ease. George makes a conscious effort to avoid mentioning racing, and you appreciate it, finding solace in the mundane topics that once filled your conversations.

As hunger sets in, you decide to cook dinner together. In the kitchen, it’s like clockwork. You move around each other with ease, falling back into old routines.

George chops vegetables while you stir a pot on the stove, the familiar rhythm soothing your frayed nerves. You pass utensils and ingredients back and forth without a second thought, your movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance.

“Can you hand me the garlic?” George asks, glancing up at you with a familiar warmth in his eyes.

“Sure,” you say, passing it to him. Your fingers brush, sending a jolt of electricity through you. You catch his eye, and for a moment, the tension is palpable.

As you continue preparing dinner, the air thickens with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The scent of sautéing garlic fills the room, mingling with the warmth of your shared history.

At one point, you reach for a spice jar on a high shelf. George steps in behind you, his body just inches taller than yours. He places his hands gently on your waist, his fingers barely grazing the bare skin beneath the hem of your shirt, steadying you as you stretch to grab the jar.

You open your mouth to question the unexpected intimacy, but before you can speak, he steps away, his touch lingering like a ghost. He moves to another task, his presence still wrapped around you even though he’s no longer at your side.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, and continue cooking. The moments of contact are electric, charged with the sexual tension that neither of you dares to act on yet. The unspoken connection between you simmers, waiting to boil over.

As you both move through the kitchen, old jokes and new stories begin to flow. The dinner preparations become an unexpected dance of nostalgia and bittersweet reality, each touch and glance filled with meaning.

As you and George finish cooking, the comforting aroma of the meal fills the kitchen. Together, you set the table, your movements in perfect harmony.

Though you sit across from each other, the table is small enough that if either of you were to stretch your legs, you’d touch. That closeness adds a layer of anticipation, your legs brushing occasionally as you both take your first bites. The flavours are rich and familiar, but the food is secondary to the charged atmosphere around you.

“Remember the first time we tried making this?” George says, his smile tinged with nostalgia.

You laugh softly, nodding. “How could I forget? We nearly burned the kitchen down.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and comforting. “I think we’ve improved since then.”

As you share this moment, you can’t help but graze his leg with your foot under the table, a fleeting touch that sends a thrill through you. George’s eyes flicker with something deeper, a response to the subtle contact. He reached across the table, taking your hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding you. His thumb gently strokes your knuckles, and the simple act feels intimate, rekindling the connection you thought you had lost.

As he holds your hand, you’re acutely aware of the difference in size. His hand, though not drastically larger, envelopes yours with a comforting presence. You watch as his slender fingers wrap around yours, their familiar warmth a stark reminder of the countless times they explored every inch of your body—especially around your neck, constricting your airway, or on your thighs, gripping tightly as he held them spread open.

George brings your entwined hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss on the back of your hand, letting his lips linger on your skin for a few moments too long.

A playful impulse overtakes you. You let your foot drift up from the floor, lightly tracing its way up his leg. The touch is feather-light, a teasing caress that sends a thrill through both of you. Your foot slides slowly up his calf, over his knee, and eventually finds its way to his thigh, lingering there.

George’s breath catches, and you feel the tension in his body tighten as his grasp on your palm loosens. His gaze locks with yours, a mixture of surprise and desire flickering in his eyes. You keep your foot gently resting on his thigh, savouring the intimacy of the contact, watching his expression shift from playful to deeply affected.

He mutters your name, “what are you doing?”

Your eyes twinkle with mischief as you shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

George raises his eyebrows, a sly smile painting on his lips as he decides to play your game. “Oh really?”

You maintain your playful facade, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Really,” you reply, trying to keep your tone innocent despite the heat building between you.

George’s hand slips from yours, moving with deliberate slowness to rest on your leg, his fingers lightly brushing against your ankle, pressing it deeper against his thigh.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “And here I thought you wanted me to be a gentleman tonight,” he murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper that makes your pulse quicken.

Without breaking eye contact, you let your foot inch higher, sliding it delicately between his thighs. It comes to rest over the zipper of his jeans, the contact making you both shiver. His reaction is immediate—his breath catches, and he whispers your name, the sound slipping from his lips with a sinful sweetness that sends a wave of heat through you.

“You thought wrong,” you reply swiftly, a sultry smirk playing on your lips.

George’s breath hitches at your words, a shiver running through his body as you maintain your foot’s gentle pressure, knowing you can feel his hardening cock straining against the denim.

He extends a hand towards you, his fingers curling in a beckoning motion, deliberately mimicking the way he would caress you in more intimate moments. The gesture sends a shiver down your spine, making your breath catch, and instinctively clench your thighs, fighting to control the rush of sensations.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice husky and insistent.

You can’t resist the command, the raw magnetism of his presence pulling you towards him. You stand up slowly, the chair scraping softly against the floor as you move. George’s eyes follow your every motion, his piercing eyes remaining on you as you near him.

As you stand between his legs, he pushes his chair back slightly, creating space needed for you to be close. He reaches out, his hands grasping your hips gently but firmly, drawing you nearer. His hands slide up your sides, a touch both tender and possessive, as he gazes up at you with a look that promises more.

He’s quick to pull you on his lap, earning a gasp from your parted lips. George’s grip tightens around your waist, his touch a mix of possessiveness and tenderness. He pulls you closer, his body pressed against yours, and you can feel the fierce need in his actions.

“You have no idea what you’ve started,” he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “No matter what papers we’ve signed, you’re still mine tonight.”

“This,” his fingers hold your left hand, grazing his thumb over the ring still adorned on your finger, “stays on. Just for tonight.”

You close your eyes, letting the weight of his words sink in. The reality of your separation fades into the background as you allow yourself to sink into the fantasy of being his again, if only for a few hours. His touch is intoxicating, a heady blend of past affection and present desire. You give in to the moment, your body responding to his with a familiarity that is both thrilling and deeply comforting.

George’s lips trace a burning path down your neck, leaving kisses that deepen into marks. His lips press against your skin with an almost reverent touch, a dark bruise forming beneath his kisses, a parting gift of sorts that will serve as a reminder of what you shared tonight. He smiles against your skin, satisfied with the mark he’s left, knowing it would evoke memories of tonight whenever you see it over the next few days.

His kisses drift lower, his hand subtly pulling your shirt lower, exposing more of your bare skin to his hungry lips. The heat of this touch, and the slow, deliberate exploration of your body made you shiver, your head tilting back instinctively as you gasp his name. Your hips shift, seeking the friction you crave, driven by the intense need building between your legs.

When George finally pulls back, he chuckles softly as the whimper that escapes your lips. “Look at you,” he murmurs with a teasing edge to his tone. “So desperate already.”

He shifts slightly, his hands sliding up your sides to cradle your face. The tender yet firm grip draws you closer, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. Suddenly, you feel a moment of hesitation, a thought flitting through your mind about the intimacy of kissing him. You almost speak, wanting to tell him that perhaps this was too much, too close for a night meant to be a parting. But the look in his eyes, the sheer depth of his need, pulls you in, rendering you speechless.

In a heartbeat, his lips meet yours, and you lose yourself in the kiss. It’s a fierce, consuming connection, full of all the love and desire that has simmered between you for so long.

As you kiss him, you’re painfully aware that your actions now will likely lead to regret and heartache for your future self. But in this moment, you’re allowing yourself to enjoy the intimacy and closeness, even as you recognize that tomorrow’s pain is a consequence of tonight’s decisions. You surrender to the moment, letting it erase the boundaries the divorce created, allowing yourself to be his once more, just for a few more hours.

His tongue slips in between your lips, teasing and caressing with a gentle insistence that makes your knees weak.

Your hand lingers on his chest, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, a silent plea for him to remove it. But he’s so absorbed in your kisses that he barely notices. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips. “Mm, take your shirt off, baby.”

With a low, breathy chuckle, he pulls away just enough to slip his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. As his bare chest comes into view, you can’t help but trace your fingers over his skin, the muscles beneath your fingertips tensing with every caress.

Before you can place your lips on his skin, his hand gently rests against your throat, holding you back with just enough pressure to make you pause. “Your turn, sweetheart,” he commands.

The return of the pet name makes a blush creep up your cheek. With a slight nod, you move back, your hands reaching for the hem of your shirt. Your eyes stay locked on his as you slowly pull the fabric up and over your head, letting it slip from your fingers and fall to the floor.

George’s gaze roams over you, drinking in the sight of your exposed torso. He pulls you back towards him, his hands sliding up your sides, tracing the curves of your body with utmost care.

He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to the hollow of your throat, the spot where his hand had just been. The warmth of his lips sends shivers through your body, and you feel a surge of anticipation. As he kisses your skin, his hands move with practiced ease to the clasp of your bra. In one fluid motion, he undoes it, and the flimsy material falls away, landing softly in your lap, leaving your upper body fully exposed to him.

George pulls back slightly, his gaze roaming over you with unabashed desire. His eyes darken as they take in the sight of you, the soft glow of the kitchen light casting a warm hue on your skin. He reaches up, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts, his touch light but electric.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes, his voice thick with admiration and lust. The words send a rush of warmth through you, making you feel both cherished and desired.

His lips return to your body, this time trailing down from your throat, licking each darkening mark he left earlier, to your collarbone, then lower. Each kiss is slow and deliberate, as if he’s savouring the moment, etching each inch of your body into his mind. When his mouth reaches the sensitive skin of your breast, his tongue flicks out to tease, eliciting a soft moan from you. He takes his time, worshiping you with his lips and tongue, making you arch into his touch, seeking more.

Your hands find their way to his broad shoulders, gripping him tightly as the pleasure builds. George’s fingers dance across your skin, exploring every inch exposed to him, while his mouth continues its maddeningly slow descent. He pauses to take one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently before grazing his teeth lightly, as his other hand kneads your other breast. The dual sensations make you gasp, your head falling back in pleasure.

As he continues to lavish attention on your chest, you feel the heat pooling in your core, your body responding to his every touch. You grind against him, seeking friction, feeling the hardness of his cock, still strained underneath his jeans.

George lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, filled with a mix of tenderness and hunger. “I want you,” he whispers.

You nod, breathless and needy. “I’m yours,” you reply, “just for tonight, I’m yours.”

Without another word, George lifts you effortlessly, his hands strong and sure as they grip your waist. You wrap your legs around his torso, feeling the heat of his body against yours as he carries you upstairs. He pushes the bedroom door open with his shoulder, his lips finding yours again in a hungry kiss.

George sets you down gently in the middle of the bed, placing a tender kiss on your lips before moving down your body as you lie back. His touch is both reverent and teasing, his fingers trailing down your skin, igniting a trail of fire in their wake. He stops at your breasts, giving each nipple the attention it craves. He circles his thumb around the peak, teasing you, before pinching the bud sharply between his fingers, earning a needy whine from your lips. He envelops your nipple in the heat of his mouth, easing the sting with a filthy, wet kiss, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. Moving away, he repeats his actions on your other nipple, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

George continues his journey down your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses and love bites, sucking as many marks as he wishes. Each bruise is a reminder of his presence, a mark of possession that makes your core throb with desire. He reaches the hem of your pants and glances up at you, his eyes widening when he realizes you are already watching him, your gaze intense as he drives you to the brink of madness.

“Please, George,” you mutter, your voice already raw from the moans you’ve let out. The plea is filled with desperation and need, your body aching for more of his touch.

He slides his fingers below the waistband of your pants, his touch electrifying. You lift your hips to help him remove the fabric, making it easier for him to pull your pants away from your body. He parts your thighs, settling himself on his knees between them. His eyes glaze over with desire as he takes in the sight of your soaked panties. You might have felt embarrassed by how wet you are, but the way his eyes darken with hunger reassures you. He licks his lips, his gaze never leaving your covered pussy.

He reluctantly shifts his gaze to meet your eyes again. “You’re dripping, love. Glad to know I still have that effect on you,” he states, dragging his thumb over your cunt, causing you to instinctively push your hips up, but it’s no avail as he moves his hand away, leaving you aching for more.

You roll your eyes at his words. “You always have that effect on me, don’t act like you didn’t know that.”

He chuckles, sitting back on his haunches, bringing his thumb up to his lips. Your mouth drops open as he licks your wetness off his thumb, humming delightfully at the taste.

“Ah, mouthy now?” He shook his head in faux disappointment. “By the time I’m done with you, the only word you’ll speak is my name.” He leans over you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before properly settling between your parted thighs, his face near your covered cunt.

With a sudden rough motion, he grabs your panties and rips them off, the fabric tearing easily in his hand. The sheer force of it sends a thrill through you, a gasp leaving your mouth as you mutter his name.

He tosses the shredded material aside, gaze remaining between your legs. “There’s my pretty cunt,” he mumbles, his voice low and filled with desire. He barely sticks the tip of his tongue out as he notices the glint of your wetness coating your folds.

You clench involuntarily at his words, not going unnoticed by him. He glances at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah? It’s mine isn’t it?” His voice is a seductive whisper, egging you on, as he watches your reaction.

You nod, a whine escaping your lips as you meet his gaze. “Yes, it’s yours,” you admit, the truth of your words resonating in the heated space between you.

George’s smirk deepens, satisfaction evident in his eyes. “Good girl,” he praises, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

He dips his head, his tongue finally making contact with your pussy. The sensation is electric, your back arching instinctively as your hips lift from the bed. His hands press you back against the mattress, splayed wide on your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you spread open.

His tongue flicks and circles your clit, driving you wild with need. George takes his time, savouring every moment as he gathers your wetness with his tongue, moaning against your cunt, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

Your hand finds its way into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you hold him close. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, your body arching into his touch as he brings you closer and closer to release.

George’s eyes flick up to meet yours, the intensity in his eyes sending another wave of pleasure through you. He moves one hand from your thigh to your cunt, collecting the slick between your folds. He coats his finger before sliding it inside you, the sensation making you gasp.

One finger quickly turns into two, pumping them in and out of you, matching the rhythm of his tongue. His fingers, long and skilled, find that perfect spot inside you, making you see stars. The pleasure builds rapidly, each thrust and lick driving you closer to the edge.

When he adds a third finger, your body reacts instantly, a cry escaping your lips. “George,” you moan, barely able to utter a warning before your orgasm crashes over you. Wave after wave of pleasure washes through your body, your muscles clenching around his fingers. You call out his name, your body trembling as he continues to work you through your climax, his relentless tongue and fingers not stopping until you’re completely spent.

He finally eases his fingers out of you, his mouth trailing kisses up your body, tasting the sheen of sweat on your skin. He reaches your lips, pressing a gentle kiss there, tasting yourself on his mouth.

You’re breathless, your body still tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “I want you,” you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse from the intensity.

George’s eyes darken with desire, his own breath coming in shallow gasps. “I want you too,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. He leans back, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes, the sight of his naked body stirring a fresh wave of arousal within you.

George leans over you, positioning himself between your legs once more, but this time his hardened cock nudges your pussy. Sliding it between your folds, he slicks up his length with your cum, nudging your clit a few times with the tip, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Please, George,” you plead, your voice breathless with desire. “Stop teasing me.”

With a deep groan, George finally slides into you, filling you completely. He pauses for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the sensation, then almost pulls out before thrusting back in, taking your breath away. The sensation is overwhelming, your bodies perfectly in sync as he sets a brutal pace. Each thrust is powerful and deliberate, hitting the perfect spot inside you.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you intimately connected, lost in the moment. The room is filled with obscene sounds—gasps, moans, the slick sound of skin slapping against skin. Every thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, each movement driving you closer to the edge.

George’s movements become more urgent, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he loses himself in the heat of your cunt enveloping him over and over. “You feel so good,” he mutters, his voice strained with desire and pleasure.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving marks as you cling to him. Your only response is a moan, your voice filled with raw need. The pleasure builds rapidly in your core, your body tightening around him, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

George brings his fingers to your lips. “Open,” he commands, his voice deep, his accent more prominent. You obey him, sticking your tongue out and taking his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them and muffling your moans.

His fingers, now slick with your spit, leave your mouth and travel to your clit. He pinches it between his fingers, then begins rubbing tight circles, the added stimulation making your body tremble. His other hand finds its way to your throat, applying just enough pressure to restrict a bit of oxygen entering your body. The combination of sensations makes you clench down on him, your body responding to every touch, every thrust.

George’s thrusts become even more frenzied, his grip on your throat tightening slightly. The pleasure is overwhelming, your body on a brink of another release so soon. His fingers on your clit, his hand on your throat, his cock filling you completely—it’s all too much.

“Cum for me,” he demands, his voice rough. “Cum for me, love.”

The command sends you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you. You cry out his name, your body trembling as you cling to him, your nails digging into his skin.

George follows you over the edge, a deep groan escaping his lips as he reaches his own release. His thrusts slow down as he fills you with his cum, his body shuddering.

Pulling out, he collapses on top of you, his body spent but his arms wrap around you, holding you close. Your breaths are ragged, your bodies covered in a sheen of sweat but you stay entwined, savouring the closeness and intimacy of the moment.

After a few moments, George lifts himself off you, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. He leaves the bed and returns with a warm damp cloth, carefully cleaning you up. His touch is soft and soothing, a stark contrast to the raw intensity you just shared.

As you lie there, your eyes drift to the clock, noting the time with a heavy heart. Only a few hours remain before sunrise. Though you keep your thoughts to yourself, a mental countdown begins, marking each fleeting minute as the fantasy edges closer to its inevitable end. For now, you push those thoughts aside, unwilling to let them intrude upon the closeness you’ve been granted.

George settles back into bed, drawing you into his embrace. His body is warm and reassuring, and he holds you close, as if trying to anchor you both in this fragile moment. His fingers gently stroke your hair, and his murmured words are soft, a soothing balm against the emotional rawness you both feel.

In his arms, you allow yourself to savor the love and tenderness that had been absent from your relationship, even though you know it comes too late. You stroke his cheek with your thumb, pulling him in for a kiss that’s slow and filled with an aching sadness. This kiss is not driven by the fiery passion of earlier but is instead a testament to the longing and melancholy that now defines your connection.

George tries to change the pace, his hands cupping your face as if to draw you back into a passionate kiss, but you resist, determined to let this moment linger. Each touch, each kiss, is a memory you wish to imprint deeply into your mind, a final, bittersweet echo of what might have been.

When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, eyes closed as if to shield yourself from the inevitable morning. The silence between you feels dense and heavy, like quicksand pulling you both deeper into an emotional mire. It’s a silence that speaks volumes, a quiet weight that settles heavily on your hearts.

His voice breaks through the silence, soft yet resolute. “I love you,” he murmurs, the words wrapped in a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

You take a shaky breath, feeling the sting of tears behind your eyelids. “I’ll always love you too,” you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper, yet filled with a depth of emotion that words alone can scarcely capture.

In that fleeting, fragile moment, you hold onto each other, letting the intimacy of your shared silence and the echo of your promises wrap around you like a bittersweet embrace. The world outside begins to stir, but within this cocoon of quiet, time seems to stand still, allowing you both to savor the final fragments of a love that was beautiful but not enough.

As the first light of dawn begins to creep through the curtains, a soft glow starts to illuminate the room. George remains close, his breathing steady and calm as he sleeps beside you, but you lie awake, your mind awash with the bittersweetness of the night.

The silence is no longer just a weight; it’s a space where every unsaid word and unresolved feeling seems to echo. You trace patterns on his chest with your fingers, savoring the warmth and the closeness while feeling the sting of impending farewell.

The morning light casts gentle shadows across the room, highlighting the contrast between the intense passion of the night and the tender, almost fragile peace of the morning. You take in the sight of George, his features softened in sleep, a small, wistful smile playing on his lips. It’s a reminder of the affection you’ve longed for, now tinged with the realization of its fleeting nature.

You let your gaze linger on him, the hurt and longing swirling within you. The memory of his touch and his kisses will linger, a beautiful ache that will accompany you as you face the day ahead. Each moment shared is a precious token to be cherished, even as you prepare to confront the reality of your separation.

Gently, you begin to disentangle yourself from his embrace, careful not to disturb him. The softness of the bed and the warmth of his body seem to hold you in a tender cocoon, but you rise, moving with a quiet grace. You dress in the dim light, each movement a silent farewell to the night that has just passed.

With one last look at George, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the calm of his sleeping face, the last remnant of the passion and intimacy you’ve shared. You leave the room, stepping into the dawn, where the world is awakening and the day is ready to begin.

The fantasy of the night dissolves into the morning’s reality, but the memory of his touch and the echoes of his love will remain with you, a haunting yet beautiful reminder of what once was.

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endangeredrandomfanfics · 15 days ago

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"A Mother's Secret

Masterlist

Agatha x Rio x Child!Reader

Summary: Agatha raised you well she took you everywhere she goes, sometimes making you do things to lure witches to her, but a question that's been bugging you makes you ask her - Chapter II

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The forest was hushed as dusk settled over the trees, casting long shadows across the ground. Agatha held her child’s small hand in hers, guiding them along the winding path through the dense woods. The child—now nearly eight years old—looked up at her with curiosity, their eyes reflecting both trust and the flickering embers of questions.

“Mama,” they asked softly, tilting their head up to her, “why do you… take the magic from the witches we meet?”

Agatha’s heart ached as she looked down at them. She knelt to their level, brushing a leaf from their shoulder, trying to find the words that would protect their innocence while keeping the truth veiled. “Some things in life, my love, are not easy to explain,” she began gently. “There are moments when we must do difficult things to keep safe those we hold dear.”

The child’s brow furrowed, their young mind working to make sense of her words. “But… what do they do that makes you need to stop them?”

Agatha sighed, brushing a stray curl from their face. “The witches we encounter,” she said slowly, “have chosen to use their power in ways that can harm others. They carry magic that, if left unchecked, could bring harm to the people around them. So sometimes, I have to step in and… take that power away.”

The child seemed to consider this, their small hand tightening around hers. “And if you didn’t, would they… would they hurt us?”

Agatha’s breath hitched slightly, but she kept her voice calm. “I do this so they can’t hurt anyone—including us, my love. It’s my way of making sure we’re safe.”

The child nodded slowly, though Agatha could sense the unspoken questions lingering in their gaze. They didn’t yet need to know the true reason she drained these witches—to keep Rio, their other mother, at bay. She knew that one day she’d have to explain the full story, but for now, she could still protect them from that burden.

“Come on, my little one,” she murmured, standing and taking their hand once more. “Let’s head back before the night gets too dark.”

They walked hand in hand along the winding path, the silence of the forest wrapped around them like a heavy cloak. After a moment, Agatha began to hum softly, a familiar tune that seemed to carry through the trees, filling the space between them with something warm and comforting.

Recognizing the melody, the child’s face brightened. It was their song—the “Witches' Road” ballad they had made up together, a tune woven from whispered secrets, dreams, and countless nights spent by the fire. Without missing a beat, they began to hum along, their small voice joining hers.

Agatha smiled, squeezing their hand as she continued to sing, her voice gentle yet filled with an ancient, bittersweet strength.

"Walk, walk, walk the road"

"I walk the wind-y road....

"Walk, walk, walk the road"

"I walk the wind-y road...

Their voices mingled, carrying through the stillness of the forest. Agatha could feel the weight of the song deep within her, each note a reminder of her vow to protect this child—her child—from the dangers lurking in the dark.

The child’s voice grew a little stronger, the words they had crafted together filling the air with an innocent wonder.

Agatha watched her child as they sang, her heart swelling with pride and love. Despite the shadow that loomed over them, they had somehow found a way to fill their life with light, with hope, with songs and stories that bound them together.

Oh. You walk this road alone, do you?

They reached the last verse, and Agatha’s voice softened, carrying a tenderness that echoed in the child’s bright gaze.

"Walk, walk, walk the road"

"We walk the wind-y road"

"Wherever it may bend

"I'll be there at the end....

The child looked up at her with a small, content smile, their voice trailing off as the song came to an end. Agatha felt a tear prick her eye, quickly brushing it away before the child noticed. She knelt down once more, her hands gently cupping their face, her voice a tender murmur.

“You are my light, my love,” she whispered, a fierce promise woven into her words. “No matter what happens, I’ll keep you safe. Always.”

The child reached up, placing their small hand over hers. “I trust you, Mama,” they replied softly, their eyes shining with innocent faith.

Agatha pressed a gentle kiss to their forehead, feeling both the weight and the beauty of their trust. And as they turned back toward their hidden haven in the forest, Agatha couldn’t help but sing the melody once more under her breath, knowing that as long as she could keep Rio busy on her path, she would continue walking this road with her child—protected, safe, and bound by the song they had created together.

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A/n: shall I make it longer?👀 How's the fic any suggestions? Comment or you can ask me?

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drowning-in-paragraphs · 22 days ago

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DRUNK CALL

a/n: requests are open! send me your thoughts!

jude bellingham x exgf!reader

warnings: nothing but pure, heart-wrenching angst...

summary: After a night of drunken vulnerability, you make the impulsive decision to call Jude, your ex who still owns your heart. He rushes to your side, rekindling feelings that both comfort and haunt you. As you cling to the warmth of his presence, you both utter a bittersweet promise: “I’ll call you tomorrow,” knowing deep down that it’s a lie.

The bass of the club music pulsed through you, filling every corner of your being and drowning out any remnants of clarity you might’ve brought with you tonight. It was loud enough to help you escape, if only temporarily, from the heavy thoughts that had crowded your mind. A glass in hand, you were just trying to find a way to forget. But with each sip, each laugh from your friends, and each new beat, your heart sank a little deeper.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be about him. You’d sworn to yourself you’d moved on, accepted that you two were over. You’d had chosen your careers over each other, the distance and the demands of your own dreams pulling you both apart like the final grains of sand slipping through an hourglass. Jude was off in Madrid, lighting up the world with every match he played, while you were trying to make a name for yourself too.

And you were proud of him, you genuinely were. But God, did it hurt.

The friends you were with were all good people, a great group, but they weren’t him. No one could ever really make you feel the way Jude had. The club’s bright lights swirled around you, mixing with the alcohol, as your mind drifted in and out, struggling to keep your emotions buried beneath a layer of forced laughter and alcohol. Too much alcohol. But as the night wore on, you felt the drinks hitting harder than expected, unraveling the self-control you’d stitched together over the last few months.

Eventually, you felt yourself start to drift outside, leaving the laughter, lights, and thumping bass behind. Out in the cool night air, the world felt quieter, and yet your thoughts were suddenly much too loud. You stumbled to the curb, your head swimming, and let yourself sink down to sit with your knees pulled to your chest. Memories started trickling in, as persistent as the tears that now blurred her vision.

You hadn’t even allowed yourself to think of him for so long, but tonight, Jude’s face and voice played like a video in your mind. The way he’d always looked at you, his eyes warm and full of a love that felt impossible, like they could make the whole world fall away. The way he’d held your hand, grounding you, as if he knew you could be lost in a moment's notice and he was determined never to let that happen. You remembered your last night together, when you’d held each other, knowing it might be the end, even though neither had the strength to say it out loud.

The decision to end things had been painfully rational. Jude had opportunities, fame, and pressures you could barely fathom. You were building your own career, trying to find your way in the world, to live up to your potential, and you both knew that something would have to give. You’d promised each other you’d be okay, that you’d move on. But looking at the pavement now, tears slipping down your cheeks as the weight of everything settled back in, you realized you hadn’t moved on at all. Not even close.

The sound of laughter spilled out from the club as a group of people walked past you, barely noticing your tear-streaked state sitting on the curb. You wiped your eyes and looked down, feeling a flood of embarrassment mix with your sadness. You should have been stronger. You should have been able to just enjoy a night out, let him go, and move forward like he seemed to be doing. But every fiber of your being felt like it was caught, unwilling to sever the tether that still bound you to him, even if only in memory.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and with a sigh, you fished it out, expecting a text from one of your friends wondering where you´d gone. But it was nothing but a notification from your social feed—photos, stories, images of Jude from his latest game. You swallowed, feeling your throat close up. You could barely bring yourself to watch his games anymore. It was a twisted kind of loyalty to protect your heart from knowing too much about the life he was living without you.

As you scrolled through the images, your vision blurred once more. You were hurting yourself on purpose. You saw Jude, smiling wide with his teammates, happiness etched into every line of his face. He looked perfect, just as you remembered, and yet, he was so far away, so unreachable. You hadn’t even realized you were crying again, the sound of your quiet sobs echoing in the cool night air as you scrolled through his instagram stories, the ache in your chest making it almost unbearable.

Maybe he’d already moved on, you thought. Maybe he was laughing with someone else right now, someone who fit better into his world, who didn’t have to battle their own dreams just to stay by his side. You´d heard rumours... And that was the hardest part—knowing that you´d let him go so he could be free to find someone who could love him without needing to love themselves too, someone who could be selfless in a way you never could be.

But that hadn’t made it easier. And that´s why, minutes later, the alcohol and grief began to take effect on you.

The city lights blurred as you scrolled through your contacts, Jude’s name flashing like a beacon. The rational part of you knew you shouldn’t, knew it was a terrible idea. But your heart was louder, and the alcohol had drowned any sense of restraint. Before you could think twice, you pressed the call button, holding your breath as the phone rang. The dull ache in your chest sharpened with every ring, a twisted anticipation you couldn’t shake. Maybe he wouldn´t answer, and if he did, you had no idea what you would say; you just needed to hear his voice.

On the other side of the line, Jude was deep in sleep, the kind of sleep he barely had time for these days between training, travel, and games. When his phone buzzed, he stirred and groaned, eyes squinting at the screen, heart jumping as he saw your name glowing in the dark. His mind snapped to attention, concern washing over him. You never called this late; in fact, it had been months since you’d called at all. And as much as he’d tried to distance himself, a part of him had always wondered if he’d be the first person to call first, or if on the contrary, it´ll be you. He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and answered, his voice thick with drowsiness.

“Hello? Hey… everything okay?” he answered, sounding groggy and confused. You could picture him, sitting up in bed, his messy curls and soft, sleepy eyes. Just the thought of him like that made your heart ache even more, and you squeezed you eyes shut, as if that would somehow make this feel less real. You could not believe this was real.

You stilled for a second, feeling a wave of nervousness—and that slight warmth his voice always brought you, even through the crackling distance of a call. “Hey, Jude!” You joked singing the famous song, trying to sound casual, even cheerful, but the wavering in your tone was unmistakable. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Jude’s forehead creased in confusion, recognizing the slight slur in your words. He knew you perfectly. Jude tried to piece together why you were calling, concern nagging at him. “Uh… it’s two in the morning, Y/N... So, yeah, you did wake me up,” he replied, a smile sneaking into his voice. “But it’s okay… I don’t mind.”

You gave a small, unsteady laugh, brushing a tear from your cheek as you forced yourself to sound light. “Oh, whoops. Didn’t mean to. Just… thought I’d say hi, I guess.” The alcohol was betraying you.

“Hi,” he echoed softly, his own smile widening as he leaned back, unable to resist the ease that always seemed to accompany any conversation with you, no matter how much time had passed. For a brief moment, it felt like nothing had changed, as if you were right back in those late-night phone calls from when you were together. “You been out tonight or something?” he asked, catching onto the familiar background noise of a club, though the line was faint.

“Maybe,” you replied coyly, your laugh a little unsteady. “Just with some friends.”

He paused, picking up on the subtle sadness in your tone, the quietness that felt so out of place in the midst of club music. A part of him could sense something was off, but he couldn’t tell if it was just the early-morning haze clouding his mind. “You sound… different. Are you okay?” His voice was gentle, cautious, hoping to draw out the truth if you’d let him in, even just a little.

You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, despite him not being able to see it, a smile lingering in your voice as you answered. “Of course! I’m just… thinking about you, I guess. Miss hearing your voice.” The words slipped out, your guard lowered by the alcohol, your voice quieting with every word.

He felt a pang in his chest, caught off guard by your openness, and caught your state. However, he stayed silent for a moment, letting your words sink in. “I miss hearing yours too,” he admitted softly. And just like that, he was thrown back into the memories of your laughter, the comfort of your presence, the feeling he’d tried so hard to leave behind at half past two in the morning.

There was a pause, and you could feel your heart rate pick up, as if this one call could somehow shatter everything you´d been holding onto for so long. And maybe it already was. “You know… you’re doing amazing,” you said, your voice cracking, the weight of your feelings too heavy to hide. “I see the photos, the games… you’re really out there living the dream. I’m proud of you, Jude.”

His heart clenched at your words, the bittersweetness in your tone not lost on him. “Thank you,” he replied, his voice thick. “I’m… I’m really proud of you too, you know that?” He’d seen your growth, your own career achievements—even from a distance, he’d always known you´d do incredible things. But knowing it hadn’t lessened the ache of not having you by his side.

He heard a small sniffle, and a pang of worry shot through him. He hadn’t meant to make you emotional; he’d wanted this to stay light, a small moment they could share without the weight of their history pressing down. But it was too late. “Love… what’s wrong?” he asked, the nickname slipping out so naturally he barely noticed it. But you did.

The familiarity in his voice, that old endearment you hadn’t heard in so long, shattered your remaining composure. You bit your lip, tears streaming down your face as you fought to keep steady. “It’s nothing,” you tried to whisper, but your voice cracked, betraying the ache beneath.

Jude’s concern deepened, his voice steady yet gentle. “You´re… you’re out right now?” His tone was soft, but his words were filled with an understanding that came from knowing you too well. He could tell you weren’t alright, even if you were trying to hold it together. “Are you alone?”

“No, no,” you lied, looking around at the empty street, realizing your friends were still somewhere inside, probably oblivious to the fact you’d left. “I’m just… outside. Needed some air.”

His chest tightened and he closed his eyes. “Y/n...” He kept his voice low, steady, as if the calm in his tone could, somehow, anchor him, could, somehow, calm the storm raging inside him.

The line went quiet for a moment, and you could almost feel him piecing it together. “Are you… drunk?”

You swallowed, the weight of your embarrassment settling in. “Maybe. Just a little,” you mumbled. “But I’m fine, really. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Of course I worry about you,” he murmured, almost to himself, before his voice took on a more determined tone. “Where are you?”

“Jude, no,” you protested quickly, realizing he’d gotten serious. “You don’t have to come. I’m fine. Really.”

“Just tell me where you are,” he insisted, a firmness to his voice that you knew better than to argue with.

“No, Jude, really. I’ll be fine. I’ll get a cab or… or call a friend.”

“Please, just tell me,” he repeated, softer this time, but there was a plea woven into his words. You hesitated, the familiar comfort of his concern wrapping around you like a blanket, erasing any willpower you had left. You rattled off the name of the club, resigning yourself to the fact that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Stay there,” he said, his voice calming you even as your heart pounded with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. “I’ll be there soon.”

The line clicked off, and you just sat there, your mind spinning as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. You hadn’t seen Jude in months, and the reality of him coming to pick you up, despite everything that had kept you two apart, was both terrifying and comforting. You wanted to see him, to look into those eyes you´d tried so hard to forget. But you also knew how much harder it would be to walk away again.

Fifteen minutes later, headlights broke through the quiet of the street, pulling up in front of you, and there he was, stepping out of his car, looking even better than you remembered. You cursed under your breath as you saw him approaching. Dressed in a simple hoodie and joggers, his hair tousled from sleep, he scanned the sidewalk, his gaze softening when he found you.

Without a word, he walked over, crouching down beside you. His gaze swept over your face, taking in your tear-streaked cheeks and red eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, just reached out, gently wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. “Hey,” he murmured softly, his voice so tender it made your heart ache all over again. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

You nodded, unable to find the words, and let him help you up. As you walked to his car, you stumbled slightly, and his arm came around you, steadying you with a gentle, familiar touch. The feel of him close to you, felt both comforting and agonizing. He opened the passenger door and helped you in, carefully tucking your hair behind your ear before closing the door.

Once he was behind the wheel, Jude glanced over at you, a soft, almost unreadable look in his eyes. “Why didn’t you call me earlier?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked away, feeling your chest tighten. “Didn’t want to be a burden,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

He shook his head, his eyes filled with a tenderness you hadn’t seen in so long. “You could never bother me,” he said quietly. “Not you.”

You drove in silence for a while, the city lights flashing by as the weight of everything lingered between you. You leaned your head against the window, the alcohol starting to wear off, replaced by the hollow ache of your feelings, raw and exposed. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you, and let out a shaky sigh.

“Jude…” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I don’t know how to move on from you.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and raw, and you felt him reach out, his hand finding yours. His fingers laced with yours, strong and warm, grounding you just like he always had. You looked over at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, you saw all the love he’d held for you, the love he’d tried to hide.

“I haven´t either,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering. “I miss you, a lot, but I don´t know if we can be together.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks again, and he gently wiped them away again, his thumb brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your heart swell. He didn’t pull his hand away, letting you hold onto him as if he knew it was the only thing keeping you steady.

When you arrived at your apartment, he helped you inside, never letting go of your hand. He guided you to the couch, gently settling you down, his eyes never leaving your face. You felt safe with him there, wrapped in his warmth and his steady, unwavering presence.

He took a seat beside you, his hand still in yours, and you sat in comfortable silence for a moment. You closed your eyes, feeling his hand gently squeeze yours, the quiet affirmation that you were not alone, that he was still there for you, even if you two were separated.

The silence settled around you both, like a delicate thread holding back a flood neither of you dared to unleash. Jude sat by your side, so close yet feeling further away than ever.

Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice soft but heavy, laced with a sadness that cut right through you. “I’ll… I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” he said, his voice almost a whisper, as if saying it louder would make it less believable.

You managed a small nod, biting your lip to keep your emotions in check, the words echoing in your mind like a promise neither of you believed. Both of you knew that call would never come. It would be too much, too painful, a tether to something that had already slipped too far away. But somehow, you clung to the lie, as if saying it aloud could somehow soften the inevitable.

“Okay,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible, a fragile agreement to keep up this charade, to pretend there was a next chapter, even if the last page had already been turned.

He gave you a sad, almost wistful smile, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand one final time. Then, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as though he could somehow imprint a piece of himself in that touch. You closed your eyes, savoring the warmth, the closeness, every ounce of affection he poured into that kiss, knowing it might be the last.

When he pulled back, his gaze held yours, full of a quiet, aching love. “Goodnight,” he murmured softly, his voice catching.

You managed a weak smile, feeling the tear slip down your cheek, but you nodded. “Goodnight, Jude.”

And just like that, he let go of your hand. He made sure you were steady, his eyes tracing over you, making sure you were okay, that you’d be safe when he was gone. Then he stood, lingering at the doorway for one last moment, his expression unreadable but unmistakably full of everything he wanted to say and couldn’t.

Without another word, he turned and slipped out the door, and you felt the emptiness settle in as soon as he was gone. The quiet of the apartment pressed in around you, swallowing up the warmth he’d left behind, until it was just you, alone, holding onto a memory that hurt too much to let go.

The next day came and went. He didn´t call.

#jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham #jude bellingham comfort #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham smut #jb5 #hey jude #jude victor willliam bellingham #bellingham #rmcf #rma #jb5 x reader #jude victor william bellingham

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thelovehypothesis · 20 days ago

Text

Part 2.2 : Between the Pit Walls and the Heartbreak - 43

part 1

Franco Colapinto x fem-engineer!reader x friend!Max Verstappen

+2k words

a/n’s: lastly! full credit to @afterglowsainz go read their fic “don't smile” its amazing, and this is the long awaited part 2 on my take of their fic! BUT here is and alternate ending... Part 2.1, I really enjoyed wiriting this, hope you like it!

warnings: angst-fluff

Summary: Two hearts, one racetrack, and a love that no team can control. When love collides with ambition, can they find a way back to each and if they can, can they learn to forgive?

Start line, finish line, at the end it's the same

It had been nearly four since you walked away from Franco, since you’d chosen your career and dreams over the love you once thought would last forever. Life had changed in ways you could never have imagined. The moment you accepted the position at Red Bull, everything shifted. The high-intensity world of being Max Verstappen’s race engineer consumed you, leaving little room for reflection, which was how you preferred it.

You were good at your job—great, even. From the very first race weekend with Max, you felt the rush of adrenaline, the electric tension of every decision you made behind the mic, and the weight of contributing to a world championship. It was thrilling, everything you’d ever worked for, and yet, there were quiet moments when your mind drifted back to what you had left behind.

But you didn’t have time for what-ifs. You stood in the garage, headphones around your neck, watching the pit crew scramble as they prepared the car for qualifying. Max was a machine—focused, relentless—and the two of you had developed an easy rapport. He trusted you with critical decisions, and you trusted him to deliver on the track. It was a partnership built on mutual respect and shared ambition.

As you stood there, watching the screens, you felt a familiar tug of emotion—memories of race weekends with Franco, late-night strategy talks, and the way he used to smile when he nailed a lap. But you pushed those thoughts away. That chapter of your life was over.

“Y/N, we’re ready,” Max’s voice crackled through your headset, pulling you back to the present.

“Copy that,” you replied, all business again. “Let’s nail this one, Max.”

The next few minutes were a blur of data, radio calls, and fast decisions. Max was flying, setting the fastest times in each sector. By the time the session ended, he had secured pole position, and the garage erupted in cheers. You smiled, proud of the work you’d done and of what the team had achieved together. This was where you belonged now—at the heart of the action, right on the edge of greatness.

But as the celebration in the garage began to die down, you caught sight of a familiar figure across the paddock—Franco. He was there, leaning against the railing, watching you. His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, everything around you seemed to blur, the noise of the team fading into the background.

He looked different—older, somehow, more serious. But that same magnetic energy was still there, the pull between you undeniable, even from a distance.

Franco was back in the paddock as a reset driver for Williams and Mercedes in the 2025 season. It was bittersweet seeing him there, a constant reminder of the past and what you had left behind. His presence felt heavy, especially for him when he started to believe Max had feelings for you. Franco noticed every subtle interaction—the way Max’s eyes would linger on you during quick debriefs or the soft smirk on his lips after a race. Franco was convinced there was something more, but you didn’t see it. To you, Max was just being friendly, and you never thought to question it. Yet, Franco couldn’t shake the feeling, and each time you were near, the tension seemed to grow.

You quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. It had been so long since you’d seen him. You didn’t know what to feel—anger, sadness, or relief. You had moved on—or at least, you convinced yourself you had. But seeing him here, now, was like reopening a wound that hadn’t fully healed.

Later, after the garage had emptied out and the team had retreated to prepare for the race, you found yourself wandering the paddock, lost in thought. You didn’t expect to bump into Franco, but as fate would have it, there he was, standing by the entrance to the hospitality suite, waiting for you.

Y/N," he called out, his voice soft but urgent.

You froze, torn between walking away and confronting the emotions you had buried. Slowly, you turned to face him.

"Franco," you said, your voice steady though your heart was racing.

He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "I wasn’t expecting to see you here."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain your composure. "I work here now. This is my job."

"I know," he said quietly. "I’ve been following you this season. You’re doing incredible things."

There was a brief silence, filled with unsaid words and memories. Finally, Franco spoke again, his tone softer, less guarded. “I’ve thought about you a lot. About us.”

You swallowed hard but kept your emotions in check. "Franco, that part of my life is over. I made my choice."

"I know you did," he said, his voice strained. "I’ve made mine too. But I don’t want us to keep being strangers. We shared too much to walk away from each other like this."

You hesitated, not expecting this direction. "What are you saying?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration mixed with something softer. “I don’t want us to end on bad terms. We were friends once, Y/N. I don’t want to lose that, too.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of the past heavy on your shoulders, but his words reached you. "You hurt me, Franco. We can't just pretend like none of that happened."

"I know," he said, his voice thick with regret. "And I’ll carry that. But maybe we could start again. Not like before, but as friends. You’ve moved on, and I need to accept that."

You studied him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was the boy you had once cared for, now standing before you, trying to make amends.

"Friends," you repeated, testing the word.

He nodded, hopeful but cautious. "Yeah, friends."

A small, tentative smile tugged at your lips. "I think I’d like that."

Franco’s shoulders relaxed as if a weight had been lifted. "I’d like that too."

For the first time in a long while, the air between you felt lighter. You knew it wouldn’t erase the past, but maybe it was a step toward healing it.

"I’ll see you around, then?" you asked, taking a step back toward the paddock.

He smiled softly, nodding. "Yeah, I’ll see you around."

As you turned and walked away, the knot in your chest loosened. Maybe this wasn’t about choosing the past or the present—it was about allowing both to coexist in their own space.

Heading back toward the Red Bull hospitality, you felt a sense of closure. You were ready to move forward, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like you were leaving something behind.

For the next few races, something began to shift between you and Franco. Slowly but surely, your interactions felt less heavy, less tied to the past. You started to talk more during race weekends, sharing little jokes or catching up between sessions. It wasn’t forced, and for the first time in a long while, it felt easy.

As the weeks went on, your friendship began to mend. The conversations that were once filled with tension now carried a lightness, and the lingering pain of what had happened between you both faded. You found yourself laughing with him again, and before long, you were falling back into the familiar rhythm of being really good friends—just friends this time you promised yourself. There was no pressure, no unspoken feelings. It was just you and Franco, rebuilding something new.

The next race, you once again crossed paths with Franco again.

“Hey,” he called out, taking a step closer. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. “What’s up?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “I think Max likes you,” he teased, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “I mean, have you seen the way he looks at you? It’s like you’ve got him all flustered.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Oh, come on, Franco. Max and I? It’s nothing like that.”

Franco crossed his arms, still smirking. “Sure, sure. But I’m telling you, he’s definitely interested. You just don’t see it.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling at his playful tone. “Trust me, it’s all professional. Max and I work well together, but that’s as far as it goes.”

He raised an eyebrow, not quite convinced. “Really? Because he seems to hang around a lot when you’re around.”

You nudged him lightly, amused by his teasing. “Don’t worry, Franco. I’d never see Max that way. He’s my driver. That’s it.”

Franco chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “Alright, alright. Just don’t be surprised if he starts asking you out for coffee or something.”

You laughed again, feeling the tension between you both ease with each joke. “I’ll keep that in mind, but seriously, it’s nothing to worry about.”

He smiled, and for the first time in a while, it felt light between you two. “Good to know. Just looking out for you.”

You nodded, grateful for the lighter moment. “Thanks, Franco. I appreciate it.”

As you turned to leave, Franco called after you, still with that teasing tone. “But if he does ask you out, you owe me an update!”

You laughed over your shoulder. “Deal!”

After the race, as you and Max walked toward the team hospitality, he glanced at you with a grin. “Hey,at this point I just need to tell someone, when I head back to Monaco, I’ve got a date lined up,” he said, his tone casual but playful.

You blinked in surprise, then smiled. “A date, huh? Good for you,” you replied, nudging him lightly. “I hope it goes well.”

“Thanks,” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but feel relieved. Whatever tension had been there between you two, it seemed Max was focusing elsewhere. It was a reminder that everything between you was purely professional.

Later that night, back at the hotel, you found yourself thinking about the past few weeks and Franco’s teasing remarks about Max. Pulling out your phone, you shot Franco a quick text: "You were wrong. I was right 😏 Max has a date, so nothing to worry about!"

Moments later, your phone buzzed with his reply: "Told you I wasn’t worried 😉 Wanna grab ice cream and celebrate your victory?"

You hesitated for only a moment before responding with a quick, "Sure, see you in a bit"

It didn't take long for the two of you to find a cosy, well-known ice cream shop nestled in the heart of town, far enough from the hustle of the paddock to feel peaceful. The shop had a retro charm, with colourful decor and the scent of freshly made waffle cones filling the air. You both grabbed your favourite flavours and found a quiet corner by the window, the soft hum of chatter around you.

Sitting across from each other, you fell into easy conversation—old memories, upcoming races, and life outside the paddock. The laughter came naturally, and it was as if the tension of the past had melted away. The familiarity between you felt comforting, like slipping back into something that had never really been lost.

As you looked over at Franco, you realised something you hadn’t expected. Despite everything, despite moving on, there was still a part of you that loved him. It was buried deep, hidden beneath layers of time and distance, but it was there, undeniable and real.

The finish line?

A week later, when the F1 circus rolled into the summer break, you found yourself spending a few days together with Franco. It wasn’t planned, but it felt natural, falling back into a familiar rhythm. You wandered through small towns, shared meals at local cafes, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. The past no longer felt like an anchor, pulling you back; instead, it was something you both acknowledged but didn’t dwell on.

The moment you sat down during one of those quiet afternoons, Franco reached over and took your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. There was no pressure, no unspoken expectations—just the comfort of being together.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice calm, yet filled with concern.

You nodded, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah. Everything’s fine now.” And for the first time in a long time, you truly believed it.

The weight of the past no longer held you down. You were moving forward, and maybe, just maybe, there was still something between you and Franco worth exploring.

(abu dhabi grand prix)

The Grand Prix was electric,charged with tension, adrenaline, and the weight of the championship. Max was on the verge of winning his fifth world title, and every decision you made felt like it could either secure or break the season. The pressure was immense, and everyone in the paddock knew what was at stake. The intensity of it all was almost overwhelming, but you were laser-focused, guiding Max through the race.

On the final lap, a risky opportunity appeared—one that could win both the drivers' and constructors' championships in one brilliant stroke. You had mere seconds to make the call. Your heart raced as you pushed the radio button, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Box, box, Max. Trust me on this.”

There was a heartbeat of silence before Max’s calm voice responded, “Copy. I trust you.”

And that trust was everything. As Max executed the strategy perfectly, crossing the finish line first, the Red Bull garage erupted in celebration. The screams of the team echoed around you, but for a second, you were frozen—still processing the magnitude of what had just happened. Max had done it. You had done it. Together, you had clinched the championship, securing not just his fifth world title but the Constructors’ Championship for Red Bull as well.

The team started racing toward the barricade to greet Max as he pulled into the pit lane, his car surrounded by a sea of red and blue. As you ran alongside your teammates, you were suddenly jostled in the rush of bodies. The next thing you knew, you bumped into Franco—completely by accident—but before you could even apologise, his arms were around you.

He caught you easily, lifting you up, and in one fluid motion, he kissed you. The world seemed to stop, the noise around you fading into nothing as his lips met yours. Franco pulled back just slightly, his voice filled with emotion as he whispered, “Congratulations. That call was amazing.”

You were stunned, the whirlwind of emotions overwhelming you, but you smiled through the tears that suddenly welled up in your eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered, before leaning in to kiss him again. This time, it was slower, more intentional, as if you were both grounding yourselves in the reality of the moment. The past, the pain, all of it seemed to fade away.

When you finally parted, Franco set you down gently, his hands lingering at your waist, and you gave him a soft smile. "I guess you owe me some ice cream later,” you joked, trying to lighten the charged atmosphere.

He chuckled, his eyes softening as he gazed at you. “Definitely."

With a quick glance at the roaring celebrations ahead, you squeezed his hand and ran toward the podium area, where the ceremony was about to begin. Max was already there, grinning ear to ear, waving to the ecstatic crowd. You stood beside him, watching as he was crowned world champion again, but all the while, your mind drifted to Franco.

From your place on the podium, you spotted Franco standing quietly off to the side, watching you with a look of pride and something deeper. And in that moment, as the confetti rained down and the world celebrated around you, you realised the truth that had been tugging at your heart all along—you still loved Franco.

You found yourself falling in love with him all over again.

---The end---

I'am really happy with the outcome! hope you are too.

Once again my request are open for all your request!

-lots of love, Em.

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 1 month ago

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A masked surprise

Summary: Letting your friend drag you to a costume halloween party even though all you wanted was to stay home turns out to be the best decision ever

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Rating: T

Warnings: costume parties, halloween, alcohol, missing your husband, reader is Frankie's wife, costumes, surprises, some..... making out, a lot of fluff in this

A/N: This is my fic for the jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge! I chose Frankie and the prompt "masked stranger party" though the stranger turns out to be not that strange at all Tagging @jolapeno & @goodwithcheese I loved writing this and i had so many more ideas for the great prompts!

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Full Masterlist // Frankie Morales Masterlist

„Come ooooon, we gonna be late,“ you heard from downstairs.

Sighing you looked at yourself in the mirror. You still did not understand how you let yourself talk into going to this halloween costume party.

You… weren’t a fan of parties.

Being the introvert of your friend group, you were happy just staying home and watching a movie. Or… binge a whole series on Netflix.

You had a busy job, so you were glad when you were home and got to relax. Of course being home nowadays came also to be a little bittersweet.

Frankie had been gone for almost nine months and you missed him every single day.

Thankfully this would be his last time on deployment and you were counting the days until he would be home just in time for Thanksgiving. But Thanksgiving still was weeks away and you hadn’t been able to talk to him in the last three weeks with him being on a mission.

So maybe the reason why you agreed to go to this party was to get you to think about anything else than your husband being away for one evening.

Taking one last look at the mirror to check your outfit, the stewardess costume being a little tighter than it had been the night you had met Frankie almost six years ago, you gave yourself a small smile.

He had been dressed as a pilot, and you had been a stewardess. Your friends were teasing the two of you to this day that you ending up together had been written in the stars from the moment you met.

Just a couple more weeks until he would be home.

You could do this.

It was a friend of your friends friend that was hosting this party.

You had gotten here almost an hour ago and were on your second drink. The music was blasting and you were talking to a woman in a very impressive Mandalorian costume when you felt like someone was watching you.

Looking over your shoulder you couldn’t pinpoint If someone was actually watching you, with the amount of people in the room. Letting your gaze wander through the room your eyes lingered on a tall person wearing a ghostface mask leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, a beer in their hands.

Your lips twitched into a small smile when you saw someone dressed in a full Luigi costume fist bump into their shoulder before you turned back to the Mandalorian in front of you.

„This might be super forward but… do you think we could go out for dinner sometime?“ The Mandalorian lady, Tess, asked you. You couldn’t hide the surprise at hearing this question, giving her a small smile.

„I’m sorry. I’m already taken. I feel very flattered though. Never had a Mandalorian hit on me,“ you smiled at her and she sighed with a wistful smile.

„Should have known. Where is your….?“

„Husband. My husband. He’s currently on deployment. I am counting the days until he gets back,“ you said, taking a sip from your drink.

„Oh that must be so hard,“ she said.

„Let’s just say I am glad when he’s back for good. The last six years were a challenge with him being away so often. But he’s… he’s the love of my life,“ you shrugged with a dreamy smile.

„Oh ugh are you talking about Frankie again?“ Your friend teased you while she put an arm around your waist.

„Stop bullying me,“ you playfully slapped her arm, making her laugh.

„Nah. Frankie is okay. I’m fully prepared to not see you for weeks once he’s back,“ she wiggled her eyebrows and you rolled your eyes.

She wasn’t wrong though. The last time Frankie had been on leave you barely had left the house for the first two weeks.

„Anyway. Let’s stop moping about my husband and maybe…. Dance?“ You looked at your friend whose eyes lit up.

„Yes please. The guy I just flirted with was gay. I was blinded by the firemen costume. I need to dance these awkward feelings away,“ she awkwardly laughed, before she pulled you to the dance floor.

You felt like someone was watching you again. I mean there were a couple people watching you probably. You were trying your best impression of the Wednesday dance from the Netflix series, you and your friend laughing almost maniacally while doing it.

„I’m gonna get another drink, you want one?“ Your friend yelled and you nodded. The song changed to a Prince song and you continued to dance, enjoying yourself. It took you a moment to realise there was someone behind you. Slowly turning around there they were. Mysterious ghostface mask, dancing with someone dressed as Mario and you wondered if Luigi, Mario and ghostface knew each other. You gave them a smile before you turned away, continuing to dance.

Once your friend got there to get you your drink, she said that she’ll go to the bathroom. Nodding you told her you’d wait outside for her, needing a bit of fresh air.

This was how you found yourself sitting outside, the music still blasting.

You had a drink and a hot dog.

And you were a little tipsy.

Smiling to yourself you bit into your food when you heard the door open. Looking over your shoulder you saw ghostface mask stepping on the porch.

„You know I never saw Scream?,“ you said before you turned away from them, continuing to eat.

„I actually don’t like horror movies at all. I’m getting scared way to easily, my husband thinks it’s hilarious,“ you hummed. When the person didn’t say anything you turned around again, your eyes widening when the familiar brown eyes of your husband were staring back at you. He was smiling sheepishly at you, the ghostface mask still in one of his hands.

The hotdog fell to the ground as you jumped up from were you were sitting.

„Frankie?“ You whispered with wide eyes.

„Hi baby,“ he grinned.

„Am I hallucinating?“ You asked and he chuckled, shaking his head.

„I’m back baby. For good,“ he said and before you could stop yourself you were walking over to him, falling into his arms that wrapped around you, pulling you closer. You took a deep breath, just inhaling his scent that you missed so much.

„Have you been watching me?“ You asked, resting your chin against his chest, looking up at him. He leaned down, kissing your nose.

„Since you got here. Will and Ben are here too. They’re in the Mario and Luigi costumes,“ he grinned and you chuckled.

„I missed you,“ you whispered and he finally leaned down to kiss you softly. You brushed one of your hands through his hair, deepening the kiss. He hummed against your lips, one of his hands on the back of your neck to get you even closer.

„Woah,“ you heard behind you and you parted from Frankie’s lips, looking behind him to find your friend grinning at you.

„You’re welcome,“ they winked.

„You knew?“ You asked surprised.

„Of course I knew. Now you can stop mopping about him coming home,“ they winked.

„You really missed me, huh?“ Frankie teased and you hid against his chest.

„We had six days after we got married before you had to leave. Of course I missed you,“ you said and he kissed your forehead.

„You wanna stay or you wanna get home?“ He asked, voice low.

„Home. Definitely home,“ you said quickly and he winked.

„Uhm we are going home. Is that okay? I feel bad because we got here together and…“ your friend stopped you.

„Please. I’ll get Mario or Luigi to take me home, don’t worry,“ they grinned and you laughed.

„Okay,“ you reluctantly got out of Frankie’s arms to go over and hug them.

„Thank you,“ you whispered and they just squeezed your tighter.

„Get out of here,“ they chuckled and you walked back to Frankie, taking his hand.

You were waiting for an uber outside when you noticed him still holding the ghost face mask, about to throw it in the trash.

„Uh…. You should keep that,“ you said quickly and he turned to you, narrowing his eyes. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked up at him and his eyes darkened.

He put the mask into the back of his jeans before he pulled you back into his arms.

„Kinky,“ he whispered against your lips before he kissed you again.

„You love it,“ you mumbled.

„I really fucking do,“ he grinned and kissed you again.

#my fic #frankie morales #frankie morales x fem reader #pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #francisco morales #frankie morales fanfiction #coffee house fall challenge

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isaacarellanesismyhusband · 3 months ago

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together at last

pair: Fred Weasley x reader

requested by @woahimboredlmao

Hihihi!! I love your writing so much!!! I was wondering if you could do a fred x ghost! Reader? Yn had died years before Fred was even born, she died during her 7th year. So when Fred first sees her he fell in love. Even though most of the other student found her terrifying. Like the lyrics ‘scary my God your Devine’ he finds out eventually how she died and stuff but he never saw her as any less and he always seemed to be around her, despite what others thought and when he dies in the battle of hogworts he’d finally be able to be with her

masterlist | navigation

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Fred had always loved a good mystery, and Hogwarts was full of them. Secret passageways, hidden rooms, ghosts that roamed the halls. But there was one ghost who intrigued him the most, someone no one else seemed to talk about: Y/N.

Fred first noticed her in his third year, late one night after a Quidditch practice. He’d been wandering the corridors with George, trying to avoid Filch, when he saw her. She was standing by a window in one of the more abandoned hallways, her translucent figure barely visible in the moonlight. At first, he thought she was just another one of the castle’s many spirits, but there was something different about her. Something that made him stop in his tracks.

Her eyes were soft, melancholic, and she wore an old Hogwarts uniform, but her presence wasn’t the cold, eerie sensation of the other ghosts. She was more... alive, somehow. Fred couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, and in that moment, he felt something tug at his heart. Love at first sight, if you could call it that.

"Oi, Fred, you comin’?" George had whispered, nudging him. But Fred barely heard him, his eyes fixed on the girl by the window. As the weeks passed, Fred found himself wandering that hallway more often, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. And he did. Almost every night, he saw her drifting through the castle, sometimes reading in the library, sometimes sitting quietly in an empty classroom. The other students avoided her. Some called her terrifying, whispered stories about how she haunted the corridors, how she had died in the most gruesome way. But Fred didn’t see that. He saw a girl trapped between worlds, someone with a story untold. And every time their eyes met, he felt that same pull.

Eventually, Fred worked up the courage to approach her. One night, as she hovered near the Gryffindor common room, he slipped away from his friends and quietly made his way over.

“You always seem a bit lonely, don’t you?” he asked, his voice low but playful.

Her head turned, and for the first time, he saw her smile. It was small, faint, but it was enough.

“I suppose I am,” she replied, her voice like a soft echo.

That was how it started. Night after night, Fred would seek her out, and Y/N would be there, waiting. She told him stories of her life at Hogwarts, how she had been a seventh-year student many decades ago. How she had died, her life cut tragically short before she even had a chance to leave the castle. Fred listened, enchanted by her every word. He never saw her as the fearsome ghost others whispered about. To him, she was the most beautiful thing in Hogwarts, with a heart full of sorrow and a spirit that never truly dimmed. He fell harder and harder each day, his love for her growing, even though she was no longer alive.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” she asked him one night, as they sat in the shadow of a forgotten staircase.

“Afraid? Not a chance,” Fred grinned, leaning back. “You’re the best thing about this place.”

Y/N gave him that soft, bittersweet smile, and for a moment, Fred swore he could feel her hand brush against his, even though she was no more than a wisp of air.

The years went by, and Fred never tired of her. His feelings for her deepened, and even when the war against Voldemort darkened the skies, his thoughts were always drawn to her. She was his secret, his comfort, the one person who saw him for who he truly was, beyond the jokes and the pranks. But then came the Battle of Hogwarts. The walls shook with the sounds of spells and screams, and Fred fought alongside his friends and family, never knowing that the end was so near. In the chaos, he barely had a chance to think of her, but in the final moments, when the world went dark, she was the last thing on his mind.When Fred opened his eyes again, the pain was gone. The castle was eerily silent, and he felt... light. Confused, he looked around, realizing that he was standing in the same hallway where he had first seen her all those years ago. And then, she appeared.

Y/N, just as he had always known her, standing a few feet away, her eyes filled with something he hadn’t seen before—hope.

“Fred...” she whispered, her voice trembling.He took a step toward her, his heart swelling with the realization of what had happened. He was no longer alive, but somehow, he didn’t feel afraid.

“You waited for me,” he said, his voice soft.

“I told you I was lonely,” she replied, smiling through her tears. Fred closed the distance between them, his hand reaching out instinctively. And this time, when his fingers brushed hers, he felt it. Solid, real. For the first time since they had met, they were no longer separated by life and death.

“I’m here now,” he whispered, pulling her close. “And I’m never leaving you.”

The world around them faded, and all that was left was the two of them, together at last. Finally free, finally whole.

#isaacismyhusbandeventhohedoesntknowityet #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #harry potter fluff #fred weasley #fred #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #fred x reader #fred x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you

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alltheirdamn · 5 months ago

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Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Epilogue

Summary: Joel had always been the one. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: None! Enjoy whatever comes! A/N: So, here we are at last. The final goodbye to one of my favorite pairings :') It is so bittersweet to end their story, but I am so thankful you all have supported it and loved it along the way! Tommy & Beth's story will be coming soon, so I hope you guys stick around for it! All my love, xoxo <3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

“Sarah!” You called from downstairs. “We need to leave soon so we aren’t late!”

“Coming!” She shouted back.

You could hear her footsteps shuffling across the loft, no doubt in a rush trying to find her backpack. It was the first day of school, and you were the brand new eighth-grade teacher—totally not because you wanted to keep teaching Sarah before high school.

The three of you had spent the summer in a whirlwind, between camping trips and helping Joel work on a business plan for his own job. You even took a small trip to Boston to see your family; you needed to get the closure you deserved finally. But you couldn’t think about that trip now; you needed Sarah to hurry up.

“Joel,” you grumbled. “Can you please get her down here?”

Joel was leaning against the kitchen counter, his coffee mug half-full and lifted to his lips. He rolled his eyes at you, his lips curling into a soft smile.

“I got it, baby. Go get your ass in the car, and I’ll make sure she has everythin’ together.”

You gave him a quick peck on the lips before slinging your bag over your shoulder. A large hand closed over your bicep, and Joel yanked you back into his broad frame.

“No y’don’t. Give me a real kiss,” he chuckled.

He pressed a hand into your lower back, holding you firm to his chest as he bent down to kiss you. You deepened the kiss, your tongue overlapping his with a soft whimper off your lips. Joel swallowed every noise and pressed you against his lips for as long as he could.

“Grossssss,” Sarah groaned, startling you both.

You jumped back from Joel’s embrace, staring at Sarah with an embarrassed smile.

“Can you guys not do that? At least wait for the wedding.”

Joel barked a laugh, kissing your cheek with wet lips before pushing you out of the kitchen.

“I can kiss my future wife all I want, sweetheart,” he protested.

Future wife.

You loved it when he said that. You loved it even more when he was pinning you to the bed and whispering it in your ear as he fucked you. Lazy strokes and sweet words… The thought alone had you clenching your thighs beneath your skirt.

Joel didn’t waste a moment proposing after you moved in. He and Tommy had snuck away one Saturday to a jewelry store to find the perfect ring, and he proposed that night. The tiny diamond sat snug on your finger, the gold band reflecting the sunlight every time you admired it—which you did a lot.

You and Joel were still working through the mess created after your accident, but there was no question that you’d marry him. At least you knew he wouldn’t run from the wedding; the thought of it happening kept you up some nights.

Both you and Sarah arrived at the school with only ten minutes to spare. She’d be in your final class for the day, so you parted ways and made your way to your new classroom. Joel had helped you set up your room over the last week, hanging the posters you couldn’t reach and remaining adamant about keeping you from any possible chance of falling. God forbid you hit your head again; it wasn’t something you liked to think of often.

Walking into the classroom, you quickly set up your lesson plans and placed worksheets on each desk. The first week of school would be the easiest for you and the students. A slight tap on the door jolted you from rushing around, and you looked up to see Maria sheepishly standing in the doorway.

“Welcome back,” she said.

Neither of you had spoken since the end of the year, and you still weren’t sure what to say. Joel had explained to you that Maria wasn’t entirely at fault for anything; she only meant to care for you and keep you company throughout the years between. At the start of last year, he mentioned that he considered going after you, which was why Maria was always so pushy about talking to Joel. And she had, in fact, been the mastermind behind ‘Happy Hour’ when Joel showed up.

You couldn’t stay mad forever, even if sometimes you desperately wanted to. Anger was all you had known for months, and you worked hard to replace it and battle through it as the summer went on. But right now, you could put that aside and at least be cordial with Maria.

“Thank you, Maria.” You gave her a tentative smile.

“Can I come in? I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you before the day started, and I was hoping we could chat.”

You nodded, motioning to one of the desks. Maria entered the room and leaned against the edge of the desk, waiting for you to settle into your chair. You tried ignoring the emails that continued to chime on your computer, attempting to give her your full attention, which she deserved.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I had no intention of lying to you, but I only wanted to see you happy. After the accident, it was so hard for me to lose you in the way I did. Giving you a place to live after your breakup with Bennett and seeing you meet Joel… Then nothing. I cared for you like a daughter and wanted to continue being there for you.”

“I know you did,” you sighed. “It’s been hard having to adjust after regaining my memory, and it’s taking a lot out of me to try to work through it all. I hope you know I appreciate all the care you’ve shown me. Before the accident and after. I just needed time to process it all.”

“If you ever need anything, sweetie, you know I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

You reached your arms to hug her, and Maria took the opportunity without question. Her warm embrace was enough to bring you to tears; you did miss her—a lot. Pulling away, you lifted your hand a little to show off the sparkle on your ring finger.

“Oh my gosh!” she squealed, grabbing your hand.

You laughed at her excitement and allowed her to admire the ring on your finger.

“The wedding is next month,” you told her. “Joel and I would love for you to come if you would like.”

“Are you kidding? Of course, I want to come!”

She pulled you in for another tight hug, muttering a litany of ‘thank you’s.’ Eventually, the school bell rang, she ran out of the room, and you settled back at your desk for the beginning of the day.

Not even two minutes after the final bell rang, Sarah was barreling into your classroom with a big smile. You had just seen her in the third hour during her own class, but her excitement never failed to make your heart swell with happiness.

“Ready to go home, kiddo?” You chuckled.

“So ready! I think Dad is cooking us dinner, and I’m starving.”

You ruffled her curls softly before tucking her under your arm and leaving the classroom. The person you were last year—before remembering everything—would have never allowed this to happen. Dating your student’s father was out of line and, quite frankly, not your forte, but this was an exception. A very necessary exception.

As you pulled out of the parking lot, you heard your phone ringing in your purse. Sarah was quick to retrieve it, staring confused at the caller ID.

“Who is it?” You asked, glancing away from the road.

“Aunt Beth.”

Shit.

Things hadn’t been great between you two since the trip back to Boston over the summer, but it was better. If you sat in silence long enough, the bitterness and anger returned in full force. Joel was your voice of reason, calming you down from the resurgence of emotions and always quickly reminding you of Beth's work to fix the relationship. You only hoped they weren’t empty promises and she would prove herself to be who she was before the accident.

“Here, let me see it,” you said, extending your hand.

Pressing answer, you held the phone to your ear and hoped Sarah didn’t see the trembling in your fingertips.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sis,” Beth said. It was easy to hear the frustration in her greeting.

“Everything okay?” You asked.

You came to a slow roll at the red light in front of you, relaxing your white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Sarah rubbed an assuring hand over your arm, and you turned to give her a sad smile. She was like her father, so receptive and aware of your emotions.

“Yeah, I think so. I don’t know, I just… Do you want me there? Are you sure?”

“At my wedding?” You questioned. “I already told you I wanted you there. I extended the invite to the entire family, including you.”

“I know, but being your bridesmaid feels wrong.”

A car horn blared behind you, and your eyes snapped up to see the green light staring down at you. You inhaled sharply and pressed the gas.

“Joel and I already talked about it, and we both agree not having you there would be something I might regret one day. I want you and Stell both up there with me.”

“You’re sure?” She asked, her voice cracking.

“Yes, Beth. I’m sure. Now, are you flying out on the day of the reception or the day before? I just need to make sure your hotel room is booked and set up before you get here.”

“I’ll fly in the day before with Stell. I think Mom and Dad are coming the day after.”

“Okay, good. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of. Just please promise me you’ll be there.”

“I promise, sis,” she sighed.

You rounded the corner into the neighborhood and pulled up to the house. Joel’s truck was already parked in the driveway, his truck bed overflowing with work tools and wooden planks. You nodded at Sarah to head in while you finished the phone call—you needed a moment alone before going inside.

“I just got home, Beth, so I’ve got to run. I’ll send you the information for the hotel and everything, okay?”

“Wait, before you go,” Beth hesitated.

“Yeah?”

“I’m still really sorry,” she admitted. “About everything.”

You scrubbed a hand down your face, holding back a wave of tears that threatened to break your composure. Beth wasn’t one to show her emotions or speak them this freely. Her vulnerability was something you were still adjusting to, among everything else.

“I know you are, sis,” you exhaled.

“I’ll, um, I’ll let you go. I’ll talk to you soon.”

You didn’t get the chance to say goodbye before the phone line went dead. Resting your head against the steering wheel, you let the tears run down your face. It was hard to control your emotions these days, and today was no different. Between seeing Maria and talking to Beth, you were exhausted. The wedding planning hadn’t been stressful until now, but knowing Beth was having second thoughts about even coming? The stress was starting to creep in.

A light tap on the window jolted you from your tearful silence. You turned your head to see Joel standing outside the door, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Seeing him was the final nail in the coffin, and you lost it completely. He was quick to yank the door open and wrap his arms around your limp body.

“Sarah told me Beth called,” he confessed. “I’m sorry, baby. I know this isn’t easy.”

You clung to his shirt, nestling your head into his neck. The work day still lingered on his skin, the smell of fresh wood and sweat flooding your senses. He smelled like home.

“Am I making the wrong decision?” You choked out.

Joel’s grip tightened around you, his sturdy frame grounding your emotions to cascade into. You fell victim to your cries, your tears dampening the cotton tee he wore.

“You’re makin’ the mature decision, baby,” he stated. “It took a lot for you even to see them this summer, but the wedding will fly by, and this can all be put behind us.”

“I just don’t want to be let down again,” you cried.

“No one's gonna let you down. I’ll make sure of it, ‘kay?”

You peeled yourself away from him, wiping away the tears that trailed down your cheeks. Joel’s brown eyes softened as he took in your fragile state, his lips turning down. Cradling your head in his hands, Joel brought your forehead to his lips for a comforting kiss.

“Hey, I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” you whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Y’know how I feel ‘bout you sayin’ that, baby,” Joel grinned.

The slight shift in the color of his eyes was warning enough to make your emotions skyrocket in a different way. You gave him a shy smile before pecking him on the lips and jumping out of the car. Joel quickly wound an arm around your front and hauled you back to him.

“You’re lucky we got dinner on the table,” he whispered in your ear. “Punishment’s gonna have to wait ‘til later.”

“Punishment?” You echoed.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, dragging his mouth over the shell of your ear.

You shivered at the touch, your body molding against his. Leave it to Joel to always turn your mood around; it’s what you loved about him. The worst days could be changed in minutes, and you weren’t afraid to be vulnerable with him. You also weren’t afraid to rile him up, too.

Shifting your body slightly, you brushed your ass against the crotch of his jeans, rewarding yourself with the hardening bulge of his cock. Joel groaned at the brief touch, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

“Oops, I’m sorry,” you giggled.

You repeated the motion, Joel’s body tensing behind you.

“Oh gosh,” you feigned distressed. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re gonna regret that, baby,” Joel growled.

With a sharp smack on your ass, Joel urged you toward the front door—not before readjusting himself several times before entering the kitchen.

Sarah had long gone to bed by the time you and Joel retired to your room. You took time showering and readying for bed while Joel sprawled against the sheets. Peeking around the corner, you caught a glimpse of his body, nearly naked, except for a pair of black boxers. It still didn’t feel real that you had found your way back to him, and it especially didn’t feel real that you’d be marrying him in less than a month.

“I know you’re starin’ at me over there,” Joel chuckled.

You emerged from behind the door, a grin on your face. Joel propped himself against the headboard, his hands locked behind his head and his biceps flexing slightly.

“Obviously,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m allowed to admire my handsome future husband.”

“Get your ass up here, baby.”

You happily obliged and jumped onto the bed, straddling his waist as you bent down to kiss him. Joel’s nose brushed against yours as he deepened the kiss, his hand carding through your hair to anchor you closer.

“If I’m not mistaken,” he muttered between kisses. “Y’said somethin’ earlier that you shouldn’t have.”

You trailed your lips down his neck, humming softly with each press of your lips.

“I did?” You teased.

“Three times,” Joel groaned.

His fingers laced tightly between the tendrils of your hair, pulling your head up until there was nowhere to look but into his dark eyes. The swell of his pupils had replaced the soft amber colors of his irises, a mischievous look flashing across his face.

“This is what’s gonna happen, baby. You’re gonna slide that beautiful body up here and ride my tongue ‘til you cum three times.”

“Three?” You repeated, your eyes growing wide.

Joel huffed a laugh and hooked his arms under your thighs. You fell forward, your hands bracing onto the headboard. Joel lucked out with you already being bare under your t-shirt; it was easy work for him, especially when you were already drenched with arousal. A small swipe of his nose over your throbbing clit was enough to elicit a soft moan from your mouth.

“Bite your lip and stay quiet for me, baby,” Joel mumbled. “Can’t wake up Sarah with all your noise.”

“Okay,” you exhaled.

Joel flattened his tongue against your entrance and licked a long, slow stripe through your wet folds. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as he had instructed, you bit back a desperate whine that threatened to escape. You rolled your hips slightly, the pointed tip of his tongue dragging over your aching bud softly. The fire crept through your veins, catapulting you closer to the edge as Joel’s jaw worked relentlessly at your leaking entrance.

“Joel,” you whispered, a faint whimper leaving your lips.

“Shh,” he hummed.

The low vibration of his hush radiated through your pulsating clit, forcing you to jerk away from his mouth. His calloused fingers dug further into the skin of your thighs, anchoring you down onto his face. His tongue worked faster at your clit, stroking it with tantalizing flicks of his tongue. Flames burst through your stomach with each move of his mouth, your thighs quaking in his grip. So close… you were so close. Joel felt it, too, and latched his mouth around the sensitive bud.

“Joel!” You cried, the orgasm barreling through your body.

He didn’t let up, his tongue dipping into your entrance and lapping at the juices leaking from you. Your hand shot to the curls at the crown of his head, tugging him off of your sex, your body still twitching from the aftershocks of your climax.

“That was only one, baby,” Joel muttered into the flesh of your inner thigh.

He pressed wet kisses against your skin, working his way back to your center with small kitten licks over every inch of you. Your thighs clenched around his face, framing him perfectly between your legs. You glanced at him only to find his dark eyes staring at you. The air knocked out of your lungs, seeing him under you in such blissed-out beauty. Joel shifted his face up, revealing his arousal-coated mustache and wet plush lips.

“Y’gonna give me two more?” He asked, his mouth curving into a grin.

You nodded vigorously, guiding him back to your swollen bud. Joel rested his tongue over your center, nudging you silently with a slight tilt of his head. Dragging your hips forward, you lowered yourself onto his open mouth. Back and forth, you moved against his tongue, tremors wracking through your limbs with each pass.

“Joel! I’m gonna—.” You choked on your words.

With one hand grasped on the headboard and the other tangled in his sweat-soaked curls, you bore down and let your second orgasm surge through your body. Biting your lip did little to help the cry of pleasure that escaped your mouth. You lifted yourself from his face, attempting to unlatch yourself from his tight grip.

“Nuh uh, baby,” Joel protested, his voice husky. “One more.”

“I can’t,” you whined.

You stumbled over his body, collapsing into the bed beside him. Joel rolled over you, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. The lower half of his face was coated in your arousal, his chin and beard glistening in the dim lights of the bedroom. You wound your arms around his neck, pulling him to your lips. The sweet smell of your arousal hit your nose as his mouth collided with yours. Joel groaned against your lips, coaxing your mouth open wider. You tilted your head to give him better access, your tongues dancing in unison in a heated kiss.

You felt Joel’s hand slide between your bodies, his body shifting slightly as he pushed down the boxers from his waist. The weight of his heavy cock rested on your thigh, and you hooked your leg higher to give him access to your dripping sex.

“Got one more in you, baby?” Joel asked, his mouth roaming down your neck.

“I think so,” you said, your voice shaky.

Joel suctioned his lips to the hollow of your neck, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. You gasped at the intrusion, your body adjusting to the girth of his cock as he split you open. Joel carded a hand through your hair and glued his eyes to yours as he thrusted into you slowly. Your bodies moved in a simple rhythm; when he drove into you, you careened back. Soft cries and heavy grunts, each of you flowing in perfect harmony.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” Joel whispered.

“Feels so good, Joel,” you panted.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the swell of release at your fingertips as Joel speared into you deeper with each cadence of his hips. You were overstimulated and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but you wanted to come undone with him. You wanted to fall over the edge together; you wanted this moment to be something you shared. Lifting your mouth to his ear, you whined softly, garnering a low growl from his chest.

“I love you.”

Three simple words. It was enough to send Joel over the edge, his body tensing above you as he drove into you one last time. Your sex clenched around his cock, milking him through his release. His cock dragged against the aching walls of your sex as he pulled out, his body resting heavily on top of yours. With his head pressed to your heaving chest, you ran your fingers through the dark curls resting at the base of his neck.

“You tired?” You laughed softly, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” Joel argued.

“Get some sleep, handsome. I love you.”

“I love you so much, baby.”

He nuzzled further into your embrace, a soft yawn exhaling from his mouth. You smiled to yourself, reveling in the fact that this was your life. Here, at this moment, everything you had endured was worth it. It was worth it knowing someone inexplicably loved you. Someone who wasn’t going to leave, no matter how hard things may be. Joel fought tooth and nail to have you back, and you learned to forgive his faults. His patience and unwavering love were enough to battle any doubts that lingered in your mind.

He was yours, just as much as you were his.

Outside your bridal suite, storm clouds swirled in the sky. You had watched the news channel praying for a sunny wedding day all week, but the Texas weather laughed at your pleas. The thunderstorm looming in the distance was only the tip of the iceberg in your ever-growing levels of anxiety.

“Sis, it’s gonna be okay,” Beth urged.

Beth and Stella were the only ones in the room with you, and they both sat at the edge of the bed, watching you helplessly pace the floor. You itched to undo the tight bun your hair had been wrangled into, the pain of each bobby pin shooting another jolt of pain into the onset headache forming in your head.

“What if he doesn’t show? What if Joel doesn’t want this? What if—?”

“Oh my God, stop!”

It wasn’t Beth that cut off your rambling, but Stella. She wasn’t one to raise her voice often, but it was enough to halt your frantic thoughts. You threw yourself onto the chair in the corner of the room, letting out an exasperated sigh. Stella rose from the bed, carefully sidestepping the hem of her silk bridesmaid dress as she waltzed to where you sat. She lowered herself to her knees and stared up at you with pleading eyes.

“Joel loves you, sis,” she stressed. “He’s not going to leave you. All of these pre-ceremony jitters will go away the second you walk down that aisle.”

“But—.”

She held up her hand in protest, shaking her head sternly.

“No more of that. You are going to put on your dress and get ready.”

You glanced at your wedding dress hanging on the back of the door. The white fabric was a haunting reminder of the rain-soaked dress you had worn only years ago, dirtied by the mud and broken hopes left in Bennett’s wake. You chewed at your lip to stifle back a cry, your brain ready to disintegrate with all the pressure building inside your head.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, the admission frightening you.

Beth groaned, leaving the bed to join Stella on the ground. You had spoken little since she came into town, sharing only a few shallow words in passing when necessary. But the seriousness in her eye ignited a new wave of fear; her words could slice you clean through if you let it. Saying your name softly, Beth clasped a hand around yours and inhaled a sharp breath.

“You can do this, and you will. I know you’re scared, but Joel is waiting for you. He’s been waiting for you for years, and he’s not going anywhere. Trust me when I tell you no one in this world loves you more than he does, okay?”

A tear slipped down your cheek at Beth’s words. The way she spoke of Joel was night and day from how she spoke of Bennett. Her words regarding Bennett had been laced with venom strong enough to poison even your happiest memories—whatever those had been. They were fighting words, and each punch was perfectly placed. With Joel, she only spoke with sincerity. Both she and Stella had been there to see Joel at his worst after the accident, watching the life he had made with you crumble away within the hospital. They had been there to experience his grief firsthand, and that was something you could never argue. Joel held a special place in both of their hearts, a bond you couldn’t remember but couldn’t deny.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, burying your head in your hands. You threw caution to the wind when it came to ruining your makeup. It was a lost cause at this point.

“Hey, come here,” Beth whispered.

She hauled you into her arms, wrapping herself around you. Stella followed her lead, both huddling around you as you cried quietly. Time had stolen so much from you, time you couldn’t get back with your sisters. Putting everything aside, you sat in the moment with them and let their strength hold you up.

“Okay, okay,” you sighed, peeling yourself away. “Can you both help me get into my dress?”

Stella squealed excitedly, hauling herself up and hurtling toward the door where it hung. Beth gave you one final squeeze and a quiet “I love you” before joining Stella.

You discarded your robe on the bed and stood awkwardly before them in your bridal lingerie. Both of them whistled at you provocatively, their eyes growing wide. You blushed at their giddiness, motioning for them to bring the dress to you. The three of you worked silently as you slipped into the tulle fabric. Beth worked at zipping up the back while Stella secured the gossamer sleeves over your shoulders. The fabric was cool against your skin, a welcome reprieve from the warm anxiety that simmered below the surface. You were ready after a few final touches on your makeup and the clasping of your heels.

“Breathe, peanut,” your dad whispered in your ear.

The bouquet in your hand was shaking from the trembling in your fingers. You stared through the glass door into the open courtyard where everyone sat, the sky darkening by the minute. In the distance, you could spot Joel's outline as he stood under the floral arch above the altar. He was right there…waiting.

“Whenever you’re ready,” the wedding planner said, grasping the door handle before you.

You turned your head to look at your dad, his features soft and emotional. If he cried, you’d soon follow, and you couldn’t ruin your makeup again. You squeezed his arm and nodded to the wedding planner.

“I’m ready,” you whispered.

With a gentle push of the door, you stepped over the threshold and into the humid air of the early evening. The soft crescendo of the Wedding March began to drift through the open space, and your friends and family all turned to stand. Your eyes shifted side to side, looking down each row at the warm smiles in your direction. Maybe if you didn’t look down the aisle, the fear of Joel running away wouldn’t come true. Look anywhere else. Your steps faltered, and you felt a wave of anxiety assault your nerves.

“He’s waiting for you,” your dad mumbled. “Look up.”

You lifted your head and found Joel watching you with the brightest smile. His hair was tamed and slicked down with gel, and his beard was trimmed short—but still patchy in small areas along his jaw. His broad frame stretched out the black suit that was tailored perfectly to his body, and something about the refined look on him made your heart leap. If you weren’t already breathless, seeing his eyes stole any air left in your lungs. Joel’s brown eyes sparkled with fresh tears under the gray skies. Not even the darkest storm clouds could darken the amber flecks glimmering in his irises.

As you neared the altar, you also realized his hands were trembling. His fingers fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt, and his body shifted from side to side as he waited for you. The music drifted to a close as you finally approached the altar, just inches from Joel. He didn’t run. He was standing right there.

You turned to your dad, giving him a tearful hug and a quiet thank you. Joel stepped forward to give your dad a firm handshake, a warm smile gracing his face. As they said their final words to one another, you handed off your bouquet to Beth, who stood behind you, along with Stella and Sarah. Sarah’s cheeks were damp with tears as she grinned at you brightly, her skin radiant in her green dress. You blew her a kiss and turned back to Joel.

“Y’look so fuckin’ beautiful,” he exhaled, wiping a tear from his face.

“And you look extra handsome,” you grinned.

Joel chuckled, clasping his hands around yours. Your fingers squeezed around his knuckles, and your thumb rubbed soothing circles over the rough skin of his hand. The officiant beside you cleared his throat, and you and Joel turned your attention to him.

“Family and friends,” he began. “Thank you all for joining us today for this wonderful union of love.”

The officiant's words faded into the background as you stared up at Joel, capturing this moment in your memory. Years of loss, pain, and grief all led you to this moment—right here. With Joel’s hands wrapped around yours and his loving smile shining down on you, it was all worth it.

“I understand that you both have written your own vows,” the officiant said, interrupting the flood of emotions inside you.

Beth tapped you on your shoulder, handing you the small paper you had scribbled your vows onto that morning.

“Okay,” you sighed. You smoothed out the paper in your hand, your eyes hardly focusing on the words before you.

You opened your mouth to speak but paused as the first drop of rain splattered across the ink. A laugh bubbled out of you as you tilted your head up toward the sky. Rain misted your face, the slow sprinkle of rain dampening the ground around you.

“Would y’look at that,” Joel laughed. “It’s rainin’ on us, baby. I think that means it’s good luck, right?”

You beamed at him, watching the raindrops catch onto his thick eyelashes. Crumpling the paper in your hand, you let it fall to the ground and composed yourself. Joel lifted his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Joel Miller,” you started. “I can say, without a doubt, I was always meant to be with you. From the moment I ran into you, literally—.” You laughed at yourself. “I knew it would always be you. Even when time and differences separated us, a part of me knew I was missing something. You and Sarah were the missing pieces that made me whole. And I’m so thankful that the universe conspired to bring us back together and lead me home. I vow to you, Joel, that every day will be filled with memories we remember.

I vow always to make you smile. I vow to always annoy you with my late-night conversations about books and poetry nonsense you most definitely have no interest in. I promise to stand beside you on the soccer fields, cheering on our girl through every win and loss. I vow to you, Joel Miller, to never leave and to always work through the hardest obstacles. Together.”

“I love you so much,” Joel whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

You lifted a finger to wipe them away, your hand resting against his cheek. Joel sniffled back more cries, shaking out the rain clinging to his hair.

“Alright, guess I gotta try and beat that now,” Joel joked.

He crumpled his vows, the paper floating onto the wet ground where they melted into the rainfall. Joel barely managed to choke out your name before succumbing to tears all over again.

“Man, this is hard,” he huffed. “I ain’t sure how y’did all that without losin’ it, baby.”

“You’ll be just fine, Joel. I’m right here,” you assured.

He spoke your name again, this time only faltering at the end. You gave him an encouraging smile, your hand still caressing his face.

“I can’t tell you enough how lucky I am that you’re in my life,” Joel began. “I ain’t ever felt a love like this, and I ain’t ever wanna lose it. I’m not a many of many words, at least not where it counts, but havin’ you by my side makes every single day brighter. There ain’t no better happiness than seein’ your smile every day or seein’ you be the mother to Sarah that she always deserved.

Y’make me the proudest man alive, and I vow always to love you and care for you in every single way. I promise to read all the books y’read. I vow to remind you which cereal we buy at the grocery. I vow to stay truthful and always love you no matter how hard things may get. It’s you and me, baby. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You got me ‘til I stop breathin’.”

You were the one crying the hardest now—a vow of all vows, spoken upon the altar that had always haunted you. One thing remained true in the weariness and uncertainty of the last several years: Joel was your steadfast. He was the constant that worked against the odds and continued to fight for a love you had since forgotten. Through the heartbreak, grief, and endless nights alone, you now had the one man the universe had created just for you.

I love you, you mouthed. You couldn’t trust yourself not to entirely wither into a heap of sobs as his vows sunk further into your heart.

“Now, if we may have the rings,” the officiant urged.

Tommy handed the ring to Joel while Sarah stepped forward to give you the wedding band you both had picked for her dad.

“Thank you, kiddo,” you whispered, bending down to hug her.

You and Joel repeated each word the officiant said, slipping the wedding bands onto each other's ring fingers. The rain was coming down harder now, pelting your face in wet splashes and rolling down your bare neck. Joel’s suit was soaked through, yet he didn’t care. Neither of you could stop smiling.

“With the power invested in me and the state of Texas, I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Miller! You may now kiss your bride.”

“About damn time,” Joel snorted.

His hands swept under your shoulder blades, dipping you low as he bent to kiss you. The moment his wet lips touched yours, everything became a reality. Joel was your husband. You molded your body into his embrace, your arms winding around his neck. He kissed you recklessly as if no one else around you existed. And truthfully, the world could have collapsed around you, and you would never have known it. You wanted to remain in his arms for eternity.

This was your home. He was your everything.

The reception had drawn into the late hours of the night, and the buzz of a few drinks had your body relaxed and at ease. Whatever stress you had before the ceremony it had long since vanished, swept away with the rain as it continued to pour from the sky. The train of your dress was stained brown from the mud, yet you didn’t care. It was a memory of the day, and you wanted to keep it with you forever.

“One last dance?” Joel asked, extending a hand to you.

You rose from your seat, placing your hand in his. Somewhere during the night, Joel had discarded his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Seeing him this dressed up was far more dangerous than you expected; you craved to undo every button traveling down his torso and strip his tailored pants right from his muscular legs. But those tempting thoughts would have to wait till later.

Half the attendees had left for the night, leaving only your family members and a few friends still scattered around the ballroom. As Joel swayed your bodies to the music, you caught wind of an argument drifting through the music. Turning your head over your shoulder, you watched Beth and Tommy go toe to toe in a standoff.

“Do you think we should go calm them down?” You asked.

Joel glanced towards his brother and shrugged.

“M’sure they’ll sort their shit out, baby. Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me from enjoyin’ this night with you.”

“You’ve seen Beth when she’s angry,” you reminded him.

“And y’know how grumpy Tommy can get,” Joel countered. “They can handle themselves.”

You both moved to the music in silence; your eyes settled on one another as you spun in slow circles. Joel hooked a hand under your knee and dipped you, only to pull you up just as quickly to crush his lips to yours.

“When can I take y’home?” He muttered between kisses. “I’ve been dyin’ to take that dress off of you all night.”

“As soon as this song ends, I’m all yours,” you smiled.

Joel’s brown eyes darkened under the twinkling lights, and dimples appeared on his cheeks as he grinned at you.

“Baby, you’ve been mine from the start.”

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel x teacher!f!reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #tlou #joel miller tlou #tlou fic

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woniedarlin · 4 months ago

Text

When Love Knows No Distance: Yang Jungwon

pairing: Jungwon x fem! reader

synopsis: You always wanted to study abroad. Now, with a full scholarship to a university far away from home, your dream is becoming a reality. The opportunity is exciting, but it comes with a heart-wrenching cost: leaving behind Jungwon, your boyfriend of three years.

warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive (mdni), mention of cursing, LOTS AND LOTS OF CRYING 😭Let me know if there is more!

note: My gorgeous darlings!! I created this inspired by what's happening in my life. I’m not in a relationship YET, but instead, it’s about my childhood friends. It's still hard for me since I moved away from my hometown back then. Leaving my friends and not seeing them for a while makes me sad. Still, I'm always thankful for the times I get to see them.

permanent taglist: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter

Caution: You might cry while reading this! Because who doesn’t when you have to leave Jungwon? Reading discretion is advised 🥹🥹

The room was dark, with a warm light from the bedside lamp. The air was thick with the bittersweet knowledge that this was your last night together for a while. Usually a place of laughter and light, Jungwon's room now seemed to echo with the silent ticking of the clock.

You lay together on his bed in each other’s embrace, both silently refusing to acknowledge that this was the last time you two would see each other for a while.

After several moments of silence, Jungwon pulled back slightly to lock eyes with you. His face displayed both love and concern. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your heart sinking at the implication. You propped yourself up on one elbow, your free hand reaching out to gently caress his cheek.

His eyes looking at yours intently. His hand now resting gently on your thigh. “Studying abroad for the next four years… leaving me behind…” he said, the words hanging in the air. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

You felt a little hurt at what he said. You sat up slightly, pulling away just enough to look at him more clearly. "…You know that it has always been my dream. I have told you that ever since." Your voice was firm but soft.

Jungwon nodded. Of course, he knew. Your eyes always sparkled with excitement whenever you talked about it. But knowing and accepting were two different things.

“I know, I know it has,” he said, gently playing with your hair. “It’s just... I don’t know if I can handle being away from you for so long.”

"Me too… but we’ll call and update each other," you said, trying to reassure him. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before resting your head against his chest.

“Every single day?” Jungwon asked, putting on a small smile, an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere amid the emotional weight.

You nodded slightly, "Of course."

Jungwon’s smile widened a bit more. The fear and worry in his eyes were still there. “And you better come back to me, no matter what,” he added.

"I will," you promised, smiling. You reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing gently across his cheek. "I promise."

“Good.” He pulled you in again, his arms wrapping around you like a security blanket. “I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t…,” he murmured into your hair, nuzzling his face against the side of your head.

You squinted your eyes playfully, "What will you do?" Pulling away again as you tilted your head slightly, trying to catch his gaze.

Jungwon let out a low, soft chuckle, “I’d probably just sit here like an idiot, missing you like crazy every single day.” He then moved a hand up to gently pinch your side, which made you squirm and let out a small giggle.

"Sit in your bed and stare at the wall for a long time," you added, trying to keep the mood light. You poked his side in return,

Jungwon rolled his eyes, “Don’t be like that. I’d do other things too, like stare longingly at your picture, pretending you’re here with me…” Then he paused in thought before adding, “And I’d also write you love letters. Long, sappy letters confessing how much I miss you.”

You scrunched your nose, "Cheesy." You laughed softly, the sound was soothing to the tension in the room.

Jungwon’s eyebrows furrowed, “Hey, don’t call it cheesy. It’s sincere, alright?” He continued to snuggle you, “You love it when I’m sappy.”

"I’m gonna miss you… like crazy. I’m used to being with you every single day," you said, inhaling his familiar baby powder scent. You will definitely miss his baby scent a lot.

Jungwon’s voice was soft yet full of yearning. “I’m going to miss you too. A lot. I still can’t believe you’re going away for the next four years…”

“It’s going to be strange… waking up every morning and not seeing you next to me. No more spontaneous trips to the park or late-night snacks when we’re up studying.” His words trailed off, and he bit his lower lip as if he were trying to hold back a wave of emotion. Then, he quietly added, his voice just above a whisper,

“No more random hugs and kisses…”

He pecked your lips before adding, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle not being with you every single day… I guess I’ve gotten too used to having you around.”

"Me too," you echoed, your voice softening with emotion. You reached up to run your fingers through his hair, your touch gentle and loving.

Jungwon’s embrace was almost bordering on clinging now. “I don’t want you to go. I want to lock you up and keep you here with me forever.” His words were spoken in jest, but a little truth to it—like his heart was spilling out through his lips. “But I want you to reach for your dreams.”

He pulled back slightly to look at you, “You’ll take care of yourself, okay? No pulling all-nighters and living on caffeine and instant ramen. And don’t forget to call me when you’re feeling stressed or just call me for updates.”

"Got it," you said, nodding. You pressed a reassuring kiss to his lips, a deep one for a moment before pulling away.

“I mean it—no skipping meals or pushing yourself too hard,” Jungwon said with a tinge of strictness now, but his voice remained soft. “You should always eat properly and get enough sleep. And if you’re having a tough time, call me anytime. I’ll stay up to talk to you no matter how late it is for me.”

"Same goes for you. Call me, alright?" you said, your tone firm yet affectionate.

Jungwon nodded immediately, “Of course, I’ll call you. I’ll probably call you like, 5 times a day.”

"Sure," you agreed with a smile, resting your forehead against his.

He chuckled softly, “You better answer all my calls.” He tried to sound jokingly stern, but the slight waver in his voice gave away just how much the parting was affecting him.

"Things will get difficult, and I know that being in a long-distance relationship will be even tougher. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes for us to stay strong," you said as you intertwined your fingers with his, holding his hand tightly.

A lump formed in Jungwon’s throat as he took in your words—the depth of your love mirrored his own. “Yeah, it’s not going to be easy. It’s going to suck, actually,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly.

“But we’ll make it work. We’ve survived through ups and downs before, right?”

“We did,” you said, your voice steady but with emotion.

“We’ve got this… we’ll be fine…” He then raised his head to look directly into your eyes. “And I’ll be waiting for you. Every single day. No matter how long it takes.”

“Four years,” you muttered, the reality of the time frame sinking in. Your eyes welled up with tears, but you blinked them back, trying to stay strong for him.

Jungwon’s face almost crumpled at the thought of four years, but he tried to plaster a small, somewhat forced smile on his face. “Yeah, four years… it seems like a long time.”

“But it’ll go by so fast, you’ll see. And before you know it, you’ll be in my arms again.” He added.

“I love you… I don’t want to leave you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as if you could hide from the reality of your departure.

His heart clenched as your words sank in. “I love you too. More than anything.” He held you tighter, pressing his face against the side of yours, needing to be as close as possible to you.

“I don’t want you to leave either. But I wouldn’t dream of asking you to give up your dreams for me,” he murmured.

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt. “I’ll call you every day, alright?” you said, your voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill over.

Jungwon nodded, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive if I can’t hear your voice every day…” he said softly, his voice so vulnerable.

“I will,” you promised, leaning in to kiss him gently. Your lips met his in a kiss, with all the love and longing you felt.

Jungwon returned your kiss, his lips meeting yours gently yet with desperation. It was as if he was trying to memorize the feel of your lips, trying to store it in his memory for the days, months, and years to come. You could feel the slight tremor in his hands as he cupped your face.

As the night grew darker, you both held each other tightly. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble.

Finally, as sleep began to calm you, you whispered one last time, “I love you, Jungwon.” Your voice was soft, almost a breathless sigh, but it carried all the weight of your emotions.

“I love you too… more than you’ll ever know….” He muttered, his voice thick with sleep and emotion. He pressed a final kiss to your forehead before resting his head against yours, his arms securely wrapped around you.

🩵

The airport was very busy, with people hurrying to their gates and announcements overhead. But for you and Jungwon, time felt like it was moving slowly as you stood at the departure gate.

Jungwon’s grip on your hand was almost too tight, his fingers interlocked with yours as if he was trying to anchor you to this spot—to him.

His face was full of emotions. There was love, worry, fear, and a clear reluctance to let you go. He’d be damned if he let you see the tears that were threatening to well up in his eyes, though, so he kept them at bay for now.

Despite his efforts to stay strong, his voice came out shakier than usual. “I don’t want you to go…”

He knew he sounded like a whining child, but at this moment, he didn’t care. All he wanted was for you to stay here, with him, where it was safe and warm and familiar. Where he could protect you and take care of you.

“I’m sorry…” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your own emotions. Reaching up, you gently cupped his cheek, trying to meet his eyes.

He couldn’t bring himself to look directly at you. The sight of your face was enough to break his heart further. Instead, he focused his gaze on a random spot on the floor, his jaw clenching.

“Don’t apologize…” he muttered, his voice just above a whisper. “You’re doing what you’ve always dreamed of doing. I’d be a selfish bastard if I got in the way of that…”

You felt a lump in your throat, your heart aching at the sight of his pain. “I know… but I’m going to miss you so much. Every single day.”

He finally lifted his head to look at you, his eyes filled with both love and pain. He tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “Call me. Every day. Even as soon as you arrive.”

“Of course, my love.” You gave him a reassuring smile, though it felt wobbly. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’ll call you every chance I get. We’ll make this work, Jungwon. I promise.”

He nodded in response, his fingers giving your hand one last squeeze. Just then, a boarding announcement echoed through the airport loudspeaker, signaling that your flight was about to depart.

When he heard the sound, Jungwon felt his heart tighten. “Your flight…”

You hugged him tightly, burying your face in his chest as tears began to spill over. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. Your hands clutched at his shirt as if you could hold onto him a little longer.

Jungwon’s arms encircled you like iron bands, pulling you tightly against him in a crushingly tight embrace. “I love you too…” he said quietly, his voice muffled against your hair. He stayed like that for a few more seconds, savoring your warmth, your scent, everything about you. Then, reluctantly, he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again.

You kissed him for the last time, putting all your love and longing into that one moment. It was a bittersweet goodbye kiss that neither of you wanted to end.

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. He was struggling now, the dam of emotions within him beginning to crack.

“See you in a while,” you said, closing your eyes before tilting back, unable to say the word ‘goodbye’ to him.

He desperately wanted to say ‘I don’t want to wait that long,’ but he forced those words back, knowing that it would only make this parting harder for both of you. Instead, he nodded. “Yeah… see you in a while…”

You took a deep breath, gave him one last look, and turned to walk away. Holding your luggage tightly, you forced your feet to move, each step feeling heavier than the last. Tears streamed down your face, but you didn’t look back.

You knew that if you looked back, you wouldn’t be able to leave him.

Jungwon forced himself to remain still as he watched the distance between you grow wider and wider. The tears that he’d been holding back were now streaming down his cheeks, hot and fast. He bit his lip to keep from calling out your name, to keep from begging you to come back.

He knew he couldn’t do that. You had a dream to pursue, and he loved you too much to stand in the way.

🩵

It’s been 3 years. 3 years without seeing each other.

And it was fucking painful.

You two have been staying strong for 3 years, despite the challenges. Jungwon kept his promise and called you 5 times every day and sent you love letters while you were at university. He also would listen to you all night when you were stressed, even though he was lacking sleep.

At this moment, Jungwon was propped up in bed, phone pressed to his ear as he listened to you talk about your day. It was nearing 2 a.m. and he had an early morning class the next day, but he didn’t care. He would stay up all night if it meant he could talk to you.

“And then, this girl I know… she said the most hilarious joke in the—” He cut you off with a stifled yawn, covering the receiver with his hand in an attempt to hide it.

“Love? You should go to sleep,” you said with concern, your voice soft but firm.

He quickly shook his head, even though you couldn’t see him. There was no way he was ending this call just yet. “No, I’m not tired. Keep talking, I’m listening…” He said, trying to sound as wide awake as possible. Sure, he was exhausted, but hearing your voice was well worth staying up for a bit longer.

“No. Go to sleep,” you repeated with a firmer tone. You appreciated his efforts, but you wouldn’t allow this.

He huffed a sigh, knowing there was no point in trying to convince you otherwise. Even though he wanted to keep talking to you all night, he knew better than to argue when you were in “concerned girlfriend mode.”

“Fine, fine… I’ll go to sleep…” He mumbled, exaggerating his tiredness just a bit to get some sympathy points.

“Hey, baby?”

“Yeah?” you asked.

A small smile appeared on his lips. Hearing your voice, even just through the phone, was very soothing to his weary soul. “I miss you… can we video chat for a bit? Just to say goodnight?”

“Of course,” you replied, pressing the video call button without hesitation.

Jungwon smiled as your face appeared on his screen. The familiar sight of your features, even through the pixelated screen, instantly lifted his spirits. He adjusted his position in the bed, getting more comfortable as he held the phone out so that you could see him as well.

“Hey, beautiful…” He greeted you with a tired but affectionate smile.

“Hi, baby…” you said with a soft smile, feeling butterflies from just seeing his face. You reached out to touch the screen as if you could touch his face.

“Goodness...I’ve missed seeing your face.” He said quietly. He wished he could reach through the screen and touch you.

“We video call each other every day,” you said, your eyes twinkling with both amusement and sadness.

He chuckled at your words, knowing you were right. “I know, I know… and it’s the highlight of my day, don’t get me wrong. But it’s just not the same as seeing you in person. I miss being able to hold you tight and kiss you.”

Your heart ached at his words, and you nodded. “I miss it too. So much. But we’re getting through this, right? Just one more year… and then I’ll be back in your arms again.”

He took a deep breath and changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on the longing right now. Instead, he decided to tease you a bit. “But I won’t lie… the sound of your voice every night before I go to bed is pretty damn great. Even if you are the reason I fail my classes from lack of sleep.”

You widened your eyes and felt bad. “Wait, seriously baby?” you asked, leaning closer to the screen as if you could reach out and shake some sense into him.

He nodded with an exaggerated serious expression, “Yes, seriously. You keep me up all night, and you expect me to be awake and alert in class the next day? It’s a recipe for disaster, I’m telling you.”

He said, shaking his head but the corners of his mouth twitched, threatening to break into a smile.

“Oh no…” you said with a concerned look. “I’m so sorry…”

He couldn’t hold back his smile anymore, his face softening as he noticed your concerned one. He quickly reassured you, not wanting you to worry. “Hey, hey, hey… I’m just kidding, baby. I’m not flunking my classes, don’t worry.”

He gave a grin, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Then, he added with a softer tone: “Though I do have a hard time focusing in class most of the time. I can’t seem to get a certain someone out of my mind…”

You furrowed your eyebrows playfully. “Who’s the girl?” you asked, pretending to be jealous.

He feigned an air of nonchalance, a playful smile on his face. “Oh, just this gorgeous, smart, amazing girl… she’s from overseas… and she’s the only thing that’s on my mind pretty much every single second of the day…”

He added, “But… there’s one small problem… she’s thousands of miles away, studying in a faraway country…”

He paused for a moment, looking at you through the screen, before continuing in a whisper: “Without me….”

“Just one more year, baby, and… I’ll come back in your arms again,” you said, your voice full of determination and love.

Only one more year. He could do that. One more year, and then you’d be back in his arms again. “I know, baby… I’m just being a whiny brat, you know that.”

“But one more year is such a long time… I need my daily dose of you to survive…” he pouted.

You smiled gently, reaching out to touch the screen again. “Just do what we do… call… give updates. We’ll get through this together. We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”

He nodded in agreement, a small smile playing on his lips. Calling each other, sending updates, receiving those adorable selfies from you that he was so hopelessly fond of—these were the threads keeping him from falling apart these past few years.

“Yeah… I’ve been trying to keep myself busy, you know. Classes, rugby, hanging out with friends…” He shrugged, then continued with a wry smile, “But I can’t lie, baby… it’s not the same without you here… nothing really is…”

He closed his eyes for a moment. The longing for you was a constant ache in his heart, a permanent state of being he couldn’t escape. He looked back at the screen, his eyes filled with yearning. “You’ve no idea how much I miss you… every single day… everywhere I go, I see something that reminds me of you.”

He paused again, his mind filling with memories of every little thing that reminded him of you. The tiny café where you two used to meet, the park where you had your first date, the small restaurant where he had taken you to celebrate the first anniversary of your relationship.

“I look around and all I see is just…” He faltered, the words getting stuck in his throat as he struggled to express his feelings. He shook his head, a bitter smile on his face as he finally managed to say, “Just empty spaces… spaces that are too empty without you in them.”

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of his words. "I know, baby. I feel it too. It's like there's a part of me missing."

The weight of his loneliness felt especially heavy tonight, and he couldn’t quite keep it out of his voice as he continued, his tone slightly strained. “I know I’m being pathetic… I just… I don’t know… I guess I’m just feeling a bit extra lonely tonight. It’s been a long day, and… and I just wish you were here, you know? Just so I could hold you in my arms and…”

He trailed off, sighing softly as he tried to rein in his emotions. “Hey, baby? Do you want kids?”

“Why the sudden question?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

He shrugged, “Oh, it’s nothing, really. I just saw these bunch of little kids playing in the park today… and I don’t know, it just got me thinking…” He trailed off, a small smile playing on his lips as he added in a murmur, “I bet our kids would be adorable…”

You smiled softly, feeling flutters as you replied, “I bet so too…”

He smiled wider at your words, the image of a future with you so clear in his mind. “Yeah… I can already imagine it… your eyes, my nose. A perfect combination.”

He let out a small laugh, imagining the little life you would create together. Then, his smile grew fonder as he added quietly,

“We should make a baby when you come back…”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you felt your cheeks flush a deep red. Your heart raced at the unexpected comment. “Now now, we aren’t even married yet.”

Jungwon’s eyes twinkled with playful mischief as he chuckled. “I know, I know… but we’ve been together for six years, baby. We’re practically already an old married couple by now, don’t you think?”

He teased, then added with a serious but playful tone, “And I’m just planning ahead, that’s all. We gotta start early, you know. Kids take nine months to make.”

You blinked, trying to process his words. Your heart fluttered at the thought of building a future with him, but the suddenness of his proposal left you momentarily speechless. “Are you… are you serious about this?”

Jungwon’s expression softened, and he nodded, his gaze earnest. “Yes, I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. I can’t wait for the day when we can finally be together and start a family.”

“We’ll get married first,” you said firmly, your cheeks still warm from his earlier words.

He nodded easily, his smile growing soft as he agreed to your condition. “Okay, okay. You have a deal then, baby. We’ll get married first. And we’ll have the biggest, most extravagant wedding you’ve always dreamed of. With hundreds of guests and the most expensive food.”

He chuckled again, then added as an afterthought, “And I’ll get you the biggest, prettiest ring as well. Nothing but the best for my bride.”

You giggled, feeling grateful to have him in your life. “Well, enough about weddings and kids. You should go to sleep, I just heard you yawn.”

He rolled his eyes, but a small smile still tugged at his lips at your insistence. He knew you were right, that he should be sleeping instead of staying up talking to you. But he just couldn’t bring himself to end the call.

“I’m fine, baby, really. I’m not even that tired.” He lied, knowing full well his yawn betrayed his words. He let out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair as he added, “But fine, if you say so. I’ll go to bed…”

“I love you.” You puckered your lips on the screen. “Mwah.”

Jungwon chuckled, his face softening a bit more at your words and gesture. A small pang of longing tugged at his heart as he looked at your lips on the screen, wishing he could kiss you right now.

“I love you too, baby…” He mumbled, his gaze never straying from your face as he made a show of pouting his lips and kissing the screen in return. ‘’Mwah.’’

You smiled and ended the call, letting out a sigh as you stared at the dark screen. The distance was hard, but you knew that your love was worth every moment of waiting.

Jungwon smiled slightly as the call disconnected. But as the screen turned black, the familiar feeling of longing came over him once more. He missed you so much. He wanted to see your face, hear your voice. And he hated that he had to endure another year of separation.

“Good night, baby…” He whispered into the empty room, his voice tinged with sadness. “Sweet dreams.”

🩵

It had been a while. The time had been a rollercoaster—both stressful and exciting. University had consumed much of your time with its demands, yet the anticipation of seeing Jungwon kept you energized. You both eagerly awaited the day when you would finally be reunited after so many months apart.

Jungwon had been counting down the days. He didn’t know a year could feel both excruciatingly long and breathtakingly short at the same time.

Each day felt like a lifetime, yet every week seemed to fly by faster than the previous one. But the call of your imminent return kept him going. Even when times got tough, he just had to remember the countdown: just a few more days... A few more weeks... And you’d be back.

The day before you were scheduled to fly back, Jungwon was still in a state of eagerness. His heart was filled with both excitement and nervous energy. All he could think about was seeing you again, holding you in his arms after a year of separation. He just couldn’t wait.

He'd be waiting at the airport tomorrow, early in the morning, to welcome you back. He'd already planned it out: he’d pick you up, bring you back to his apartment, and then…

He let out a shy laugh, thinking about it, he could hardly concentrate on anything else. He'd spent the whole day feeling like a walking bundle of nerves, unable to focus on his classes or his rugby practice. He was just anxious to see you again.

Finally, as the sun set and the day came to an end, he was lying in bed, his phone in his hand as he waited for your usual nightly call. He hoped you’d have time to call, despite the hectic traveling.

He checked the time on his phone: it was almost 9 PM. You’d usually call by now… Had your flight been delayed?

He let out a small sigh, trying to suppress the disappointment and worry that was beginning to set in. He knew he should just wait patiently, that you’d probably call soon. But the thought of another night without hearing your voice felt torturous.

Suddenly, a knock echoed through the apartment.

Jungwon lifted his head off his pillow, frowning slightly at the unexpected sound. Who would be knocking on his door at this hour?

He slowly got up from the bed, walking towards the door with both confusion and curiosity. He had expected to find a package or flyer at most. Instead, he pulled open the door to find…

You…standing right in front of him with you holding a luggage.

For a moment, he stood rooted in place, his brain struggling to process what he was seeing. Was he hallucinating? Was he dreaming? Because there’s no way you were here, in front of him, right now…

But the sight of your familiar face, your beautiful smile, and the luggage at your side slowly convinced him that this was not a dream. It was real. You were really here.

He couldn’t help it. The next thing he knew, he was taking a step forward and pulling you into his arms. Tears welled up in his eyes almost immediately.

“Hi baby,” you said, your voice trembling as you cried in his embrace.

Hearing your voice again, so close and real, broke the dam he had been holding back for the past year. The separation, the endless nights of missing you, the overwhelming longing—all of it came rushing out at once. He buried his face in your shoulder, his body shaking with sobs.

“I missed you so much,” he choked out between sobs. “So, so much.”

You held him tightly, your tears mingling with his. “I missed you too, Jungwon. Every single day.”

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands cupping your face as if to ensure you were there. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered, his voice full of wonder and relief.

You nodded, your smile bright despite the tears. “I’m home, Jungwon. I’m finally home.”

He kissed you then, a desperate kiss that spoke of all the days, weeks, months and years you had been apart. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you at that moment, reunited at last.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were red but filled with a joy that had been absent for far too long. “Let’s get you inside,” he said softly, his voice full of tenderness. “I have so much to tell you, and I want to hear everything about your journey.”

🩵

You two were in the living room, sitting on his lap as you talked and talked. But then you cried again, and before you knew it, both of you were crying hard.

He let out a choked laugh as you tried to wipe away his tears. “I’m… I’m sorry… I can’t… stop…” he managed to get out between hiccups and sniffles.

Your tears flowed even harder, soaking into his shirt as you clung to him.

A fresh wave of guilt rushed over him. He knew he wasn’t the only one who had suffered from the separation. He wasn’t the only one who had missed each other this past year. He wasn’t alone in this.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I know it was just as hard for you. I wish I could’ve been there more, done more…”

You shook your head, pressing a finger to his lips to stop him. “You did everything, Jungwon. You called, you wrote, you listened… you kept me going.”

He cupped your face, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears. “And you kept me going. Every day, every call, every letter… it was all for you.”

You kissed him then, a kiss full of all the love and longing that had built up over the year apart. When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as you both tried to calm down.

“We’re together now,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the tears. “And that’s all that matters.”

He nodded, his arms tightening around you. “Yes, we’re together. And I’m never letting you go again.”

You two kissed again, and before you knew it, he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he continued to kiss you deeply.

Without breaking the kiss, he carried you to his room…

🩵

Things slowly settled back into a sense of normalcy for the two of you. You had both started jobs in your respective fields, finally earning enough to live fairly comfortably.

And with the stability of secure jobs, the two of you finally found yourselves with more free time to spend together. Gone were the years of all-nighters and endless classes, replaced instead by lazy days off, dates at various places, and of course, plenty of time for more… intimate moments.

As you were busy organizing some paperwork on the dining table, a knock on the door interrupted your concentration. You opened it to find a familiar face from the neighborhood.

“Delivery for Mrs. Yang,” the person said with a smile.

“Thank you,” you replied with a warm smile, accepting the package before closing the door and placing it on the table.

Just then, a tiny voice came from behind you.

“Mommy? What is that?”

You turned to see your daughter, Hana, rubbing her sleepy eyes as she stood in her little pajamas. The sight of her, so small and adorable, made your heart swell with love.

“Oh Hana, my baby. This is just a package,” you said softly, kneeling to her level. You reached out and gently tousled her morning hair.

“Okay, mommy. I just woke up. I tried to wake up daddy in your room, but he won’t budge,” she said with a tinge of frustration, rubbing her eyes again.

You smiled at her concern, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “It’s alright, baby. I’ll handle it. Go sit on the chair and wait for us. I already made some breakfast.”

With a loving touch, you smoothed her hair and added, “Mommy will go upstairs and wake up daddy now.”

Hana nodded and shuffled off to the dining table, her little feet pattering across the floor. You then headed upstairs.

As you entered the bedroom, you saw Jungwon, still huddled under the covers, his face buried in his pillow. He looked completely unfazed by Hana’s earlier attempts to wake him.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him sleeping so peacefully, the sheets tangled around him, his hair messy from sleep.

Quietly, you walked over to the bed and sat down gently on the edge, trying your best not to disturb him. You reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair off his forehead, the touch ever so subtle and light. “My love, wake up,” you said softly.

Jungwon stirred slightly at the sound of your voice, his face still mostly buried in the pillow. He blinked a few times, slowly adjusting to the morning light filtering through the curtains.

“Mm… five more minutes…” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“No. Hana already tried to wake you up. It’s time to get up now,” you said, both firmness with gentleness.

Jungwon let out a low groan, clearly displeased at the interruption. But when you mentioned Hana, he sighed and slowly lifted his head, finally meeting your gaze.

“Okay, okay… I’m up…” He sat up, scratching his head and trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep.

“Good morning…” you said softly, smiling at his adorably groggy face.

He squinted at you, still struggling to wake up fully. After a moment, he managed a small, half-lidded smile and reached out to pull you closer, resting his head on your shoulder.

You couldn’t help but tease him gently. “How come you still smell like baby powder?”

Jungwon chuckled, burying his face in your neck. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I still smell like it. You know Hana loves rubbing her face against me.”

“No, even before we had Hana. You don’t wear perfume, but I swear you have that baby powder scent,” you pointed out.

He looked up at you, thoughtful for a moment before shrugging with a playful grin. “Well, maybe I’ve always had the baby powder scent. Or maybe it’s just my natural scent.”

He brushed a few strands of hair from your face, adding, “Either way, you’re the only one who notices it, baby.”

“How come I have a cute husband and a cute daughter? I’m blessed with cuteness,” you cooed at him, unable to contain your affection.

Jungwon chuckled again, clearly pleased with your praise. He ran his fingers through your hair and said, “Well, what can I say? We just happen to be the cutest little family in town.”

You were so overwhelmed with his cuteness that you couldn’t resist pecking him on the lips. He looked at you, a playful glint in his eyes, and said, “Are you trying to turn a simple morning wake-up into a makeout session?”

“No. Hana is waiting for us downstairs. I need breakfast, she needs breakfast, and you need breakfast,” you replied with a touch of firmness.

Jungwon pouted slightly and sighed dramatically, “Ugh, fine, fine… no making out then. Responsibilities and breakfast first.”

Reluctantly, he released you and pushed the covers off his legs, getting out of bed with an exaggerated sigh.

“We can make out later when we’re alone,” you said with a playful wink.

Jungwon gave you a lazy grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, I’ll hold you to that promise later, babe. You can bet on it.”

You grinned back at him, reaching out to take his hand. “Come on, let’s go downstairs.”

He followed you downstairs, still looking slightly sleepy but now with a spark of anticipation in his eyes. As you both entered the kitchen, you found Hana at the dining table, her small feet swinging back and forth as she waited eagerly for breakfast.

Seeing her parents, Hana’s face lit up with a radiant smile. “Daddy! Mommy!”

Jungwon’s tiredness faded instantly at the sight of his daughter’s cheerful face. He walked over, bending down to kiss Hana’s head. “Morning, munchkin. Sorry, I overslept this morning.”

Hana puffed out her cheeks in annoyance, though her love for him was evident. “You always oversleep, daddy! Why do you always sleep so much?”

Jungwon chuckled, pulling her into a one-armed hug as he sat beside her. “Blame your mother. She’s so beautiful, she keeps me up all night.”

“Yang Jungwon!” You scolded playfully.

“Hey, I’m just speaking the truth!” he protested with a grin. “It’s not my fault I have a gorgeous wife who keeps me awake.”

You shot him a mock scowl before turning your attention to Hana. You placed a plate of food in front of her, your expression softening. “Here you go, baby. Mommy made all of this for you.”

Hana’s eyes widened in delight at the sight of the food. “Yay, food! Thank you, mommy!” She immediately grabbed her utensils and began eating with gusto.

Jungwon watched this adorable scene with a smile, then turned to you with a grin. “I swear, she’s becoming more like you every day.”

You tilted your head in curiosity. “Like what?”

Jungwon chuckled, pointing his fork at you. “For starters, she’s got your stubborn streak. She always knows what she wants, just like you. And look at her dive into her food—just like you do.”

“And that’s a good thing,” you added, smiling at the comparison.

He nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Absolutely. She’s got all the best qualities from her mom.”

Jungwon laughed softly, watching Hana continue her breakfast. “But I have to wonder what other traits she’ll pick up from you as she grows older. I’m a bit scared, honestly.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. “Oh, just thinking about the future. I’m bracing myself for the teenage years when she’ll probably give us a hard time. Not to mention, as she gets older, she might develop your sass and attitude.”

“You’ll just have to handle it,” you said with a smirk.

Jungwon laughed, his eyes twinkling with humor. “Oh, I’m prepared for all the sass and attitude. But she’s already a little handful now, and she’s just a kid.”

He added with a sly grin, “Or maybe she’ll take after me and be the angel who balances out your sass.”

“You? An angel?” you teased.

Jungwon feigned offense, his eyes wide. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I can be an angel too, you know.”

He flashed a cheeky grin, his eyes sparkling. “But let’s be real—I’m practically a saint. I always give in to your requests.”

You rolled your eyes and served food onto his plate. “How about you stop yapping and start eating?”

He chuckled at your playful demand but complied, picking up his utensils and starting on his meal. “Alright, alright. I’ll zip it and eat… but only because you told me to, babe.”

He continued eating, occasionally glancing at you with a soft smile. You always knew how to get him under control. “Thank you for the meal.”

“Alright, after breakfast, we’ll drop Hana off at school and then we can enjoy a little free time,” you said, planning the rest of the morning.

Jungwon nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food. “Sounds like a plan. Drop Hana off and then some time for us. I’m looking forward to it.”

He looked over at Hana, who was still happily eating her breakfast. “Hey, munchkin, finish up. It’s almost time to go to school.”

Hana nodded enthusiastically, her mouth full of food. “Okay, okay, I’m almost done, Daddy!”

Jungwon chuckled and patted her head affectionately before focusing back on his breakfast. The three of you enjoyed the meal together, the morning filled with warmth and love.

Long-distance relationships are tougher than you’d expect. But with Jungwon, every challenge made your time together even more precious.

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me-loving-woso · 1 year ago

Text

Beach days, new teammates and love confessions

After literally months I am back. This is part 2 of Bruises Apologises and Cookies? It’s 15 k and probably I’ll make also a part 3 cause I am now invested in the story. Let me know if I should go on.

The season ending was a very bittersweet moment for you. From one point of view, you really didn't want to leave your club when they had given you so much.

The fans loved you, your teammates had become family, and the stadium was a second home for you. But you knew that you had to move for your career to flourish and make you reach your full potential.

The last game you played was the final of the Coppa Italia against Juventus. Your captain gave you the armband to lead your team one last time, and you were trying to hold off the emotions welling up. You almost felt like you were betraying the team in a sense. Still, you knew it was only an impression, as everyone was spurring you to go to Barcelona. They only wanted what was best for you.

You won 1-0 in that game, with your goal making the difference. Your teammates made you lift the cup and shed one or two tears. You gave a small farewell speech, and then, for the last time, you rounded your little stadium, where you'd play all of your matches with the team, and said goodbye to your teammates and the fans.

Your mind went on autopilot after that. You pushed away all of your sad feelings in the locker room and in the car to go back home. At home, there you broke down. It was really over. The team, the club that had given you so much, was not your team anymore. And a new adventure was about to start.

The following day, you fled to Eindhoven with some of your friends from the National Team to see the Champions League final. You had promised Mapi that you would be there and also because you were there to meet the coach of Barcelona to finalize the contract with the club.

As soon as you land in Eindhoven, you text Alexia, telling her you have just landed. Your relationship with her had been highly confusing since she welcomed you into her home after the defeat against your team. Something between the two of you had shifted.

She took care of you and made you feel safe in her arms. It had been a long time since you felt like being with her was just casual, on your part at least. Maybe she was just being polite and not actually caring more than necessary. Yet, you would text or call almost daily to talk about your days or just football. She was the first person you told about your move to Barça and she couldn't have been more supportive.

As you texted her at the airport, she told you that you wouldn't see each other before the game because she was stuck in media duties. Still, she informed your friend and soon-to-be teammate that you had landed, so at least you would get to see Mapi.

As soon as you left your suitcase in the hotel, you got to the bar where you told her you would meet her.

"Soo, what are you doing in the summer?" You ask her while you are both eating some way too unhealthy burgers.

"Ingrid and I thought about going to Ibiza for a week; why?"

"Would you like to come to Italy for a few days?" You offer her, every year, you booked this tiny house for the whole summer in Praiano, near an abandoned beach. You thought it was a total steal for how much you had paid for it. You usually would go there with friends or family for a few weeks. It was really your favorite place to be.

"I would love to come, but I don't want you to third-wheel us." You chuckle.

"What makes you say I'm not inviting anyone else?" You smirked suggestively, making her understand what you were insinuating.

"So you finally made it official?" You had asked Alexia to join you for the holidays the last time you saw her when she told you that she had never actually been to Italy if not for a match, you said it was unacceptable, so you offered yourself as a tour guide.

A week or so later, you realize that spending more than a day together would be a bad idea for fear of spilling out your deep, confused, and embarrassing feelings for her. So you decided to invite Mapi along.

"Again. We. Are. Not. Dating." You repeat to her for the millionth time, frankly also trying to convince yourself.

"So you are not going on holiday with her."

"Yes, I am. As friends." You explain, trying to find the right words.

"Only friends?"

"Well, with also some other benefits." Her face turns into a disgusted look. "What?"

"You are talking about my captain, it's weird." Frankly, she will be your skipper too, which meant that you were banging your boss? That was a thought for the future you.

"I really hope you would like to join us if you have nothing better to do." You really hoped she would say yes because you had planned to tell her you were joining Barcelona there.

"I'll talk to Ingrid about it, but you know I can't say no to Italy."

As you return to the hotel, you have a drink with your friends, and then you excuse yourself to go to bed when you hear your phone buzz.

Your Favourite Kickboxer ;)

'You up?'

'Yes, Why are you not asleep? It's late, and tomorrow you have a big game.' You reply.

'Just the nerves are getting to me. Last year with Lyon, we got demolished; I don't want it to happen again. It was difficult to keep the team united after such a loss, and I don't want to disappoint the fans.'

'Can I call you?' She sends another text.

You quickly start a video call, and she immediately picks up.

"Hey, cariño."

"Hey, Ale." You both smile dumbly at each other for a couple of seconds, but then you get interrupted by one of her yawns.

"You need some sleep, piccola, or you will be tired tomorrow. And as for the Lyon thing, you cannot predict the score tomorrow; you just can control how you play and try your best to motivate your team to be the best version of themselves. Lead them to glory, and give it your all. You won't have any regrets if you give everything on the pitch." You try to make her feel better, even though you know she will be stuck in her head all night.

"I'll try my best."

"And the least you could do, after ditching me tonight, is to score a goal for me tomorrow. It's the least." You tease her, making her smile.

"Asking for a goal in a Champions final? You know you are a very hard girl to satisfy, right?" She chuckles, making you feel relieved that you were able to make her feel a little better.

"You would be the expert on that, right?" You smirk suggestively, making her raise an eyebrow.

"Oh, I definitely am." She replies confidently.

"Go to sleep, piccola mia; tomorrow is a big day for you."

"Goodnight, cariño."

"Buonanotte, Ale."

The morning after you woke up, you quickly texted Alexia for good luck.

As soon as you got to the stadium, the tension was palpable, especially when in the first half Barcelona was down 2-0. You were getting extremely nervous and anxious. Your teammates, who were watching the game with you, noticed that. You were biting your nails to the skin. You didn't want them to lose, but if a team could turn around a 2-0, it was going to Barça, or at least you hoped so.

As soon as you saw the players come on the pitch for the second half, they all held an expression you couldn't understand. A mix of determination and hunger, especially Alexia.

The second half started, and not two minutes after, your woman bagged the first goal of the remontada. She ran to her fans, looking at you, making your initial with her hands, making all of your organs flip, fully blushing at the gesture. You really thought that she didn't take seriously what you said the day before.

As soon as she made that gesture, your now ex-teammates, watching the game with you, noticed what had happened and put the dots together.

"It's her, isn't she?" Linari asks you, wearing a shocked expression.

"What?"

"The girl from Barça that you are seeing. It's Alexia Putellas?" You chuckle, turning around to see the game, making her understand she was right. You weren't denying it anymore.

Not even two minutes later, Alexia scores a header, making the score a draw. She ran up to the side of the field, making your initials again and then celebrating with a little bow.

Barcelona was finally on track, and you could see that the intensity was getting much higher than it was before. Alexia played some of her best football in that second half. The game found an advantage with Rölfo when she scored the match's final goal and game-winner.

You saw her lift the trophy, making your heart grow a thousand times bigger on how much you were proud of her.

Then Mapi came to you, and you hugged her, congratulating her. You mingled in the stadium for a little while and finally left to the parking lot. You wanted to see Alexia but knew she needed to focus on celebrating and her teammates. You could text her later when she had the time to reply.

Your Favourite Kickboxer ;)

'Meet me in the hallway at the stadium?'

You quickly excuse yourself from your friends and sneak inside the stadium again. As you were walking down the hallways to find her, you felt two hands sneak up on you, making you turn around.

She quickly picked you up from the air, giving you a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm so proud of you, Ale!" You say, nearly tearing up.

She puts you down, turns her head to look at her surroundings, and then kisses you quickly, catching you completely off guard. "I have to return to Barcelona now, but I couldn't leave without seeing you." She says excitedly, you had never seen her this happy.

"You did it! You scored two goals. You are champions once again! I'm so fucking proud of you, Ale!"

"Did you see! I did your initials. Two goals for you, cariño! I probably wouldn't have won the trophy if it wasn't for you." She places her hands on your cheeks, smiling.

"I didn't do anything. It's all on you. I just gave you a little reassurance."

"You don't give yourself enough credit. I have to go now! I have a trophy to bring back to Barcelona. I'll see you in two weeks, cariño." She gives you a quick peck on the lips and then leaves for the dressing room.

The next day, your Instagram was swarmed by pictures of her celebration and a video of the team that was clearly hungover Alexia included, which made you chuckle.

That day, you were leaving for Praiano with some of your closest friends from the Roma team. You had invited them to spend the last days in Italy with you before you moved to Barcelona.

The club announced your signing in the middle of the transfer season so as not to overshadow your signing for the Champion's League win; you thought it was totally unnecessary, but LaPorta wanted to give you a 'proper welcome.'

The day of your announcement coincided with the day Mapi would arrive in Italy. You really wanted to be the one telling her that you would be joining her team, so you talked to Ingrid, begging her to not make your friend open her phone for that day. They would stay with you for five days before leaving for Norway. In contrast, Alexia would remain with you for the whole week, which was something that you were looking forward to some alone time with her. Still, you were also nervous about being alone with her in fear of blurting out your surely unrequited feelings for her.

As soon as her flight landed, you went to pick her up,

She was wearing some Barça shorts and a baggy t-shirt, wearing a messy bun, and walking towards you. As soon as she was close enough, you ran up to her and hugged her, which she soon reciprocated, picking you up from the air.

"Hey, cariño."

"Hi, champion." She put you down, buried her head in the crook of your neck, and placed a small kiss there.

Then you took her suitcase, grabbed her hand and led her outside the airport. As soon as you get into the car, she takes your hand again and never returns it for the rest of the trip.

"How was the flight?"

"It was good, though nobody speaks Spanish here; they just add the S to the end of every word in Italian. It's so annoying." She pouts cutely.

"Welcome to Italy."

"So, is Mapi already here?"

"No, they are coming tomorrow morning; they had an issue with the plane tickets."

"So we are alone tonight?" She grins suggestively while you quickly nod at her before focusing back on the road. "So, what are the plans for tonight?"

"It depends on how tired you are." She had just had a whole week celebrating with her teammates, and you could understand if she wanted a relaxed night in. You turn around to see her expression, a mix between a smirk and a suggestive glare. "Oh my god, woman! I didn't mean it like that! I'm more than just a body." You remark jokingly as if you weren't thinking about the same thing as her.

"I know. I love your body." She kisses the back of your hand. "Just as much as I love what it's inside here." She lightly taps your temple, making you slightly blush at her compliment. "SO, what are the plans for tonight?"

"If you are up to it, I wanted to take you out to dinner; since you say that Spanish food is better than Italian, I want to prove you wrong. And if you still have some energy, we can go for a walk later; I can show you around the city."

"I'm good for anything you want to."

As soon as you get to the house, Alexia's eyes widen.

"Oh wow, this is beautiful." She opens her mouth in wonder.

"Wait until you see the beach!"

You stop the car and take her suitcase inside the house while she is toeing behind you. You take her outside to see the small private beach.

"How did you find this place?" She marvels, still looking at the clear water in front of her.

"We used to come here when I was little; I've actually started saving up money to buy this place. The owner loves me and has no kids, so he is okay with me buying it."

She turns to you, taking you by your sides. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"No problem."

"Now, can you show me the room? I would like to change clothes."

You grab her hand and take her inside the tiny house. "I'm sorry it's a little messy." You still had some bottles of wine opened and some glasses on the table from the previous night. "My friends left this morning, and I still didn't have time to clean up."

"If that is messy for you, you don't want to come to my house during the holiday season." She lightly jokes.

You take her to one of the spare rooms, where she places her suitcase on top of the bed, and then she quickly looks at her surroundings, confused.

"Is this your room? Because I don't see your stuff in here."

"No, my room is over there." You point at the end of the hallway.

"Just take me to your room; we are going to sleep on the same bed anyway." She says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, I thought that you might want your own space."

"You have to stop being so accommodating. If I wanted my space, I would've stayed at home. I came here because I wanted to be with you. So stop being so cautious around me and take me to your room." She says, using her commanding voice that she only used on certain occasions, which she knew had an effect on you.

You take her to your room, which is the best room in the house. It was the biggest and had a great sea view outside the window.

You leave to make her change while you go in the living room.

She wore shorts, her bikini, and an open button-down shirt when she returned. You chuckled when you looked at her; she was really feeling the beach mood.

"Let's go outside!" She says excitedly.

"Wait, I still have to finish cleaning up, and then I have to go upstairs and finish some other stuff. I'll be there in a couple of minutes." You tell her you really wanted everything to be perfect for this week.

"Nope."

"What, sorry?"

"You are on holiday, so stop trying to make everything perfect; it's already perfect as it is, and come outside with me." She insists, making you giggle at her stubbornness.

"But-"

"No buts. You deserve to relax just as much as I do." She quickly approaches you, grabs you by the waist, and drags you outside.

"Alexia!"

She puts you down on your small patio when you get outside. She places your hands on your cheeks. "Now, let me do something I've wanted to do for two weeks. Can I kiss you?"

"You really don't have to ask anymore." You reply, standing up on your tippy toes to kiss her. It was slow and soft, and you could feel her smile through the kiss. She picks you up, and you can feel her begin moving. You needed to find out where she was going and why. But you were too caught up in her to understand what was happening. Then you hear some splashes and the sound of the waves. You break the kiss and look around: she brought you into the water, and she was wearing a mischievous smirk.

"Alexia, don't you dare!" You warn her. She was trying to throw you into the water. She responds to you by chuckling and releasing her grip from your body, making you wrap your legs even tighter to not fall down to the water. "Alexia, come on, I still have clothes on." You tried to convince her, but she looked like she didn't care. So she began tickling you on your sides, which she knew was your ticklish spot. You tried to squirm from her touch, but you lost balance and fell in the water while the woman beside you, still standing, started laughing.

“Tua madre in carriola!” You exclaim, slightly irritated that you had all your clothes drenched in water, but you couldn't fully care when there she was. You have never seen her as carefree and happy as now. You felt blessed that she was here, right now, with you, being like this, trying to make you finally relax and enjoy some vacation when it was nearly impossible, as you'd always stress about something.

"You know that I didn't understand anything you said, right? Only something about my mom." She chuckles. You quickly go underwater and grab her legs, making her fall into the water.

"Tu puta madre!"

"See! At least I didn't call your mom a bitch." You tease her while she fixes her wet hair. "And this is payback!" You finish, crossing your arms and wearing a proud smirk. You see her expression change from irritation to determination while swimming towards you. She picked you up and threw you with her in the water, and that is how you spent your afternoon. Stolen kisses, laughs, and a whole lot of competitiveness. Honestly, you couldn't ask for more.

After the both of you had calmed down after laughing and playfully fighting in the water, you swam to her. You made her wrap her legs around your waist while she was stabling herself, putting your hands on your shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, you always pick me up from the ground; we can switch roles occasionally." You tell her, lightly rubbing her thighs; you really missed having her close to you.

She replies by giving you a soft kiss, then begins to look at you, smiling.

"What?" You ask her, feeling yourself combust at the intense eye contact.

"I just really missed your face, cariño." She says, peppering feathery kisses all over your face.

How dare she say stuff like that when you try your best to keep inside your confusing and strong feelings for her.

"I missed you too, piccola." You blurt out, kissing her jaw, holding her a little tighter. You really didn't want to let her go. You had created this little bubble in which the both of you were enjoying each other's presence, not caring about what you were to each other, but just having fun with no constraints and being in each other's company.

"I think we should get inside." And the bubble popped.

You get inside the house with your clothes soaked and take turns to shower. It had been more than six months since the last time you were able to touch her, and you felt your body yearn for her. Yes, you had kissed, but nothing more than that.

You took her out to dinner in a small place near the city.

You really needed help to differentiate this dinner from a date. It had everything that a date would entail. Good food, subtle and not-so-subtle flirting, and great banter. The subtle touches under the table or the shared knowing glance made your heart skip a beat. This dinner felt like a date, but you knew it wasn't. And that made you feel a sort of uncomfortableness that wasn't easy to set aside to fully enjoy your night with her.

As soon as you finished eating, you took her for a walk around the city, and you would tell her anecdotes of what you did in those places you were walking by when you were a child.

You arrive at a park, and you both sit down on the swings.

"You know, this is actually where I had my first kiss." She turns to look at you, wearing a curious grin.

"Here? In this park?"

"Yeah. It was here. Actually, on this swing."

"Now you have to explain." She asks you curiously.

"Well, I was thirteen. We were a group of five kids, and we would come here every afternoon to have fun and play with the ball. I remember this boy always looking at me, and one day, we were alone at the park. I was on the swing; he made me close my eyes, gave me a flower, and kissed me."

"Oh my god, it's so cute!"

"No, it wasn't. It was very weird. But I think it was just me who didn't want to be handed a rose by a boy, much rather a girl. But that would be a problem for a future 14-year-old me. In hindsight, I think that it should have been the first clue of me liking girls." You chuckle, reminiscing about that young boy who made you realize that kissing boys was disgusting.

"Turn around." You see her standing up with a determined grin.

"What?"

"Just indulge me. Turn around." You turn around, your body closing your eyes expectantly.

"Okay, you can look now." You turn to face her and see a daisy in her hand.

"Well, this might not be a rose. But it is a flower." She hands you the flower shyly, making you chuckle lightly at her cuteness.

"And you are a girl and not a boy." You state.

"So, can I kiss you? I'll ask because I don't think that poor boy asked you."

"Nah, he didn't. But as I told you before, you no longer have to ask."

"Kissing you shouldn't be something you can take for granted." She replies, leaning into you and weighing the swing's chains.

After more than thirteen years, you recreate your first kiss. And this time, it feels right. It was as if you were meant to recreate it with someone who mattered, who would make you feel excited and nervous about how the little boy felt when he was kissing you. And you felt the same way with her, and every time you kissed her,

As soon as she breaks off the quick kiss, you remark, "I think you are a better kisser than that poor boy."

"I mean, I'd hope. I'm 29. He was your age."

"Don't get too cocky now. You were slightly better." You tease her. Making her lean into you and give you a searing kiss so that you'd know for sure that if you weren't sat on that swing, probably your knees would give out. It had an intensity that seemed out of place for being in a children's park. But neither of you seemed to care. It was dawn, the playground was abandoned, and you missed kissing her.

And most certainly she was just getting competitive because you told her she was slightly better at kissing than a thirteen-year-old. She wanted to wipe away any doubt about her kissing skills.

She breaks the kiss by lightly biting your lower lip, making you feel all hazy.

"Just slightly better?" She smirks proudly.

You didn't hear a word she said, as you were too busy falling down from the high she had just given you to actually understand words spoken to you in a different language by one of the hottest women you have ever seen. "What did you say?"

"I'll take that as a no." She lightly chuckles, taking your hand and walking to the park exit.

"Let's go home." She whispers, placing a small kiss on your temple.

The walk back to your holiday home was on autopilot. She took the lead on the conversation, asking you questions about the week's plans with your other two friends. As soon as you get home, you go to your small kitchen to get a glass of water while she toes behind you. As soon as you finish drinking, she comes closer to you, putting her hands on your waist and making you retreat until you hit the kitchen counter.

"Thank you for tonight. I really had fun." She smiles earnestly.

"I'm glad that you like it here."

"Oh, I love it here. Even though I think that the people in this place have an average age of 72." She jokes

"Nah, 75. In fact, there is only one kid in the whole town. And the father is actually the boy of the kiss in the park."

"Well, at least he moved on."

"Yeah, it was very tough for him, but eventually, after a very long time, he found love again. But again, how could you ever move on from someone like me." You joke.

"I don't know. Well, nearly after a year, I'm still here, so something right you must be doing." She teases you.

"Or maybe you just can't find better." You raise an eyebrow suggestively.

"I don't think there is better to find, honestly." Her gaze softens as she says those words, making you blush, hiding your face by placing your forehead on her chest, hiding from her. She pulls her hands away from your waist and puts them on your cheeks to try to move your head from her to see your face. "What?" She asks.

"You have to stop saying things like that."

"Why? I mean it." She reassures you.

"I- You know why." You try to make her understand, not fully saying out loud feelings; try to make her understand them instead without fully exposing yourself.

"I'd rather you say it."

You take a deep breath. "Alexia, do you want to go on-" Your phone rings and you look from your watch to who is calling you "I have to take this."

You squirm away from her touch and leave to go outside.

"Pronto, Emma. Tutto bene?" It was your best friend whom you hadn't seen in a year and a half. She never called without asking you beforehand, so you thought it was pretty important.

"Si, tutto bene. Ti devo dire una cosa.” She replies excitedly, making you release a sigh of relief that nothing bad had happened.

Ten minutes later, you come back to Alexia wearing one of your biggest smiles.

"Is everything okay?" She asks, still waiting for you in the same spot as you left her.

"More than okay!" You reply excitedly, walking quickly to her. "My best friend is getting married, and I'll be the maid of honor." You place your hands on her shoulders, then slowly move them to her neck, lightly playing with her hair. "Now, where were we?" You knew exactly how you left her; you were about to blurt out your feelings for her, but you decided to ignore the problem and not dwell on it too much. Instead, you kissed her. The kissing led to something else, and for the first time in more than six months, time froze, and you were back again in her arms.

The next morning, you wake up to the alarm with hair on your face and an arm holding you down. You had a headache and clearly were sleep-deprived. You open your phone and look at the time. It's 10 AM.

"Fuck!" You sit up, making the woman on your side slowly wake up. "Alexia, wake up. We are late; we should've been in the car by now."

You say, rushing out of your bed to quickly change. You had promised Mapi that you would drive her to your house from the airport because you thought it would be a waste of money to book a taxi when you had a perfectly functioning car that could drive you anywhere.

In five minutes, you were able to dress, brush your teeth, and get in the car. Thankfully, you remembered to shower the night before, so you didn't have to do it in the morning; you felt bad for Alexia, as you could see that she wasn't used to this level of rushedness, that you were more than used to as you always tended to sleep in, and eventually have to rush to get in time to train or to games.

You closed the door to the house while Alexia was still halfway done putting her shirt on. As soon as the both of you got into the car and slammed the door, you looked at each other and started laughing.

"Okay, those were the quickest five minutes of my life." She says while catching her breath.

"We totally overslept, and we are totally going to be late." You chuckle, starting the engine of your car.

"We can always say that we found traffic." She offers.

You definitely and not-so-subtly speed to the airport and then quickly call your friend to tell her that you are finally at the airport.

"I'm really sorry. We found traffic on the way here." You tell Mapi while you go to hug her and Ingrid. As your friend goes to hug Alexia, you turn to Ingrid and whisper, "Did she already open her Instagram?" You were trying to hold off her discovering that you were a Barça player; you really wanted to tell her, and that day would be the day that Barcelona would announce your signing.

"No, she didn't, but I can't hold off her phone for long." She replies, breaking off the hug and going to Mapi's side and beginning to catch up on her life and yours.

"Oh my God, I forgot to tell you! Emma is getting married!"

"No way! She's finally settled down?!" Everyone who knew the both of you always thought that you would be the first one to marry, as Emma has always been the hot mess between the two of you, afraid of commitment. "Is she marrying the same guy from college?" She asks you.

"Yep." You turn around to look at Alexia and Ingrid, and then you explain. "When I was in college when I met Kate, my ex, Emma met this guy who studied economics and finance at our same university. They got together way before Kate and I. He's so dumb. I love him so much. They are perfect for each other."

You turn again to face your tattooed friend, "Wait, is that a hickey?" Her face is adorned with a knowing smirk while pointing at your neck, making you subconsciously hide it with your hand.

"No, it's not! It's a bruise." You try to explain, mentally trying to remember to scold Alexia as soon as you got her alone.

"It's so not!" She chuckles, surprised, making you turn around to glance angrily at Alexia, who replies with an innocent smile. "Is that the reason why you were late?"

"No! We found traffic on the way here, as I told you before."

"Yes!" Alexia casually backs you up, making your other two friends understand it was a lie.

As soon as you get into the car, Mapi is about to take out her phone to put music on when you stop her, saying that only the passenger in the front, Alexia, could put the music on, which was a lie, but you really didn't want her to see her phone.

As soon as you got home, the couple went to their room to unpack the suitcase while you and Alexia put on your bathing suit and went outside to the beach to sunbathe. You were reading some book, trying to focus on the words of the book rather than the woman who was lying half-naked on your right. Which was getting increasingly more difficult whenever she would move or place soft caresses on your back, trying to get your attention.

"Hey." You turn to look at her.

"Hey, cariño. I'm sorry for the hickey. I got a little carried away yesterday night." She apologizes shyly, making you forgive her in the blink of an eye.

"Don't worry about it." You come closer to her, placing a hand on her chest, and give her a small kiss. You brush your noses together and tell each other sweet nothings, creating a small bubble that neither of you wants to pop. "I know that I'm a person who doesn't express much of her feelings vocally, but I just wanted to say that I'm really glad that you are here with me."

"Honestly, there is no place I'd rather be, cariño. By your side is where I am the happiest."

You move your lips closer to her, about to kiss her, when you hear the door of the house open and see your friends coming outside. You make your forehead fall on her shoulder while you feel her sigh displeased. You slowly move away from her and sit up.

"I'm still not used to seeing this." Your friend says while pointing at the both of you, making her girlfriend roll her eyes at her.

You spend the morning in your small private beach playing card games and catching up with each other.

In the afternoon, it was when the club would announce your signing, so you decided to tell her at that moment. You had brought your Barcelona shirt to be able to announce it away from Barcelona. You told the club that you wouldn't be able to fly to Barcelona for your signing because you had already booked your holidays, so you did all the photoshoots and signing beforehand.

The first hours of the afternoon had always been the hottest, so you all decided to come inside and plan together your four days ahead.

You go to your room and retrieve the Barça shirt. Then you leave to go to your living room. "Oh, and by the way, I decided on my future club." You say casually, sitting down on the couch next to Alexia, facing Mapi.

"You are renewing with Roma, right?" She asks curiously. "I heard some rumors saying that they offered you a big contract."

"Yeah, they did offer me a huge contract. But I decided to leave; check your phone." You look at the time on your watch. "I think they just made the announcement." You tell her excitedly.

She quickly checks her phone, then turns to look at you smiling. "You'll be a Barça player?" You slowly nod, taking out the shirt with your name on it and showing it to her.

"I wanted to be the one who told you; that's why Ingrid never let you use your phone today." You say while standing up to hug her.

"I'm so happy! We can finally win the Champions League together! Like we always dreamed about!" She says excitedly, looking at the shirt. "Have you already decided on the number? I know that yours has always been the 16."

"I don't care, honestly. I'm just glad to be a Barcelona player. Plus, Rölfo already has the 16. I don't want her to change numbers for me."

"It's already settled, cariñ- Y/n." Alexia interjects, making you turn to look at her. "I know how much the number means to you, and Frido already wanted to change the number to 18, so I asked her if she wanted to make the swap. If you want it, you'll have the 16."

"Ale, there was no need to do that!" You felt your heart explode with affection at the thought that she would do this for you without even asking her or talking about it.

"I know. But I wanted to." You lock eyes, and for a moment, it is as if you are the only one in the room. "Now, do you want me to take a picture of you for the announcement?"

You posted on your Instagram a picture of you and your friend holding your Barça announcement shirt, with the caption: 'Reunited with this one.'

The rest of the week passed in a blur, from boat trips to visiting nearby cities and loads of food; you finally felt at peace and ready for your new adventure in Barcelona.

You would stay one last week in Italy with your family to finish packing up, and then you would leave for Barcelona. You found a beautiful apartment near the training grounds, and it had everything you dreamed of. Huge kitchen, a small garden, and a great view of the city.

Everything felt perfect. Alexia was going to pick you up from the airport, you thought it was unnecessary and a waste if her time, but then you gave in, wanting to see more of the woman who had been on your mind ever since that week in Italy, maybe even from before.

As soon as you landed, you got the terrible news from your landlord that a pipe from your apartment had just exploded, which meant that for more than a week, you would be homeless.

As you walk sadly to the exit of the airport, you find Alexia smiling at you as soon as she sees you, but then, as soon as she sees your expression, her smile fades into an expression of worry. You go to hug her, circling your arms on her waist. "Are you okay, cariño?" She asks worriedly.

You bury your head in her shirt, feeling the warmth and comfort she is exuding and taking it all in.

"A pipe from my new apartment just exploded. I am homeless for a week, and I need to find a hotel not too far from the training grounds."

"We'll find a solution together. Now let's go to the car and go home." She takes one of your suitcases, puts her arm on your shoulder, and pulls you close to her, dragging you to her Cupra.

As you enter the car, you melt into the car seat, taking Alexia's hand and giving it a couple of kisses. She turned on the engine of the car and proceeded to leave the infinite parking area of the Barcelona airport.

"If it's not a problem, you can always stay with me." She offered when you asked her if she knew any hotels near the training grounds. "Because I really don't think you'd want a week of Mapi and Ingrid together." She jokes, clearly making a point, because as much as you love both girls, they are disgustingly in love, and being around them made you feel miserable with your current situation with Alexia.

"Ale, I don't want to intrude. You need your space, and until I'm settled in, I'll take up a lot of it. And I don't want you to feel like you have to because you stayed in my home during the holidays," You say.

"I'm not offering because I feel some sort of obligation. I'm offering because I care about you, and I'd hate for you to be stuck in a hotel when you can simply stay at my place."

"Are you sure?"

She chuckles at your stubbornness, "Yes, I'm sure, cariño. But I do have one condition that I cannot overrule." She becomes immediately serious, making you unconsciously sit up. "You have to bake me those darn cookies." Her condition makes you chuckle. "I want to bring them to my mamá."

"I'll bake you all the cookies you want, piccola mia."

You get to her home, and as soon as she opens the door, you are met with a ball of fur asking for your attention, which you gladly give to her.

That evening, you baked your cookies together, fully knowing that the next day would be your first day of training, so it acted more as a stress relief rather than something you were doing for someone else. Which wasn't a problem for you, as it had always been your love language, acts of service, and cooking for other people. But strangely enough, you weren't feeling at all that anxious, and most certainly, even if you wouldn't admit it to yourself, it was Alexia's merit.

Her presence seemed to ground you and anchor you to the real world, not making you overthink or go in a spiral of intrusive and not good thoughts.

You loved how, even though she didn't know how to bake, she would try her best to do whatever you wanted her to do, making you grin at her concentrated looks whenever she didn't understand something.

As you went to bed that night, you were cuddling up in Alexia's bed.

"So, are you excited about tomorrow?" She asks you.

"I am a little nervous, but yes, I'm very excited. I'm finally playing for my dream club, and honestly, I couldn't be asking for more. But I do have a question, though: Do you know how many people know about us on the team?"

"Mapi has been a good friend, but for now, only she and Ingrid know. But if you are asking me if I'll treat you differently than what I've been doing now, the answer is no. Of course, I'll not be kissing you because we are at work, but I'll never avoid you."

"You'll have plenty of time to kiss me on other occasions then." You give her a small peck on the lips and go back to your previous position, falling asleep in her arms, looking forward to the next day.

The next day, you have breakfast together and then leave for the training grounds. As soon as you get there, Alexia goes in for training, whereas you go and meet all the training staff and Jonatan Giraldez. You were nervous, as you always hated to meet new coaches.

"Hey, Mister."

"Hey, Y/n. I'm so glad to finally have you on my team. It has been two years now that you have been my number 6 choice. I hope we can work well together." He says, shaking your hand, making you blush lightly at the compliment.

"I will do my best to be the best player I can be." You say.

"I'm sure you will. Now, before going to train and meet your future teammates, even though I know you already know some of them, you unfortunately have some media to attend to."

He accompanies you to a room full of interviewers from Barça TV and some other places, and the interviews begin.

"Hello, Y/n Y/ln. May I ask you some questions?" He asks politely, and you slightly nod.

"Welcome to Barcelona; what made you decide to leave your former club to join Barcelona?"

"Barça has always been my dream club, ever since I was a child. I remember that my uncle wanted me to become an Inter fan, whereas my other one wanted me to become a Milan fan, but as soon as I saw Barcelona play, I was completely taken by their style of play, and it was this club and Messi, that made me fall in love with the sport, so I will always be forever grateful to this club, for giving me this opportunity."

"Y/n, you have the impossible task of replacing one of the best CDMs in the world, Keira Walsh, who had just returned to her childhood club, Man City, with Lucy Bronze; how do you think you will fit that role?"

"Woah, huge question." You lightly joke, earning chuckles from the interviewer. "I think Walsh is one of the best CDMs in the world right now, if not the best. It's not going to be an easy task to 'replace' a player like her, if we can say that. But I'll give it my all to this team, and even if I won't be the best 6 in the world, I'll definitely be the best version of myself to play for this historic team. It's my dream."

"Who are you most excited to play with?"

"Of course, Mapi. We played together during our Atletico days, and I always thought that we worked very well together. But honestly, all of them, I'm really excited to play in midfield with Aitana Bonmati and Alexia Putellas and one of the most underrated players of all time, Patri Guijarro."

"How do you feel about playing with Alexia Putellas, given the circumstances of your previous encounters?" You furrow your eyebrows at the question.

"You mean, given that the last time we played against each other, she nearly broke my nose?" You say lightheartedly, making the people understand that you weren't holding any grudge against her.

The English interviewer quickly nods. "As I said in previous interviews, I think Alexia is a great player and a great person, both on and off the pitch. She will be my new skipper, and I couldn't ask for anyone better. In our previous encounters, I think we were just unfortunate, and when you play with a person who is physically bigger and stronger than you, injuries may happen. But I don't hold any type of grudge against her; in fact, we actually joked about the fact that if she weren't a football player, she could definitely be a kickboxer."

"And that is all for today; thank you, Y/n."

"Thank you all for being here and Visca el Barça."

You quickly exit the room and speed walk to the changing rooms to get ready for your first training with the team. As soon as you put on the shirt, you immediately touch the badge of your new team and automatically smile. You had finally made it, and you couldn't be happier.

You put on your cleats and go outside to talk to your coach. All the other girls were making rondos or juggling with the ball, making you feel a little bit like a fish out of the sea. For a slight moment, you were slightly regretting coming to Barcelona but you knew that it was just your mind playing tricks on you and that you deserved to be there just as much as the girls who were already training.

"So, coach, do you want me to run a few laps or do some drills with the ball?" You tell him, feeling ready to do anything, even running, jumping up and down from your standing position.

"Oh no." He chuckles. "I don't know if you do this in Italy, but here at Barcelona, for every new player, we do the guard of honor."

"Oh no, we don't have to." You say shyly, not wanting to be at the center of attention.

"Oh yeah, it's tradition." He spurs you on, making you go with him on the pitch to your new teammates.

"Girls!" He screams, making all of them turn around. "As you already know, Y/n will be our new 16, so take care of her and make her feel at home!" He says, making you awkwardly wave at your teammates, embarrassed. Mapi walks excitedly to you and gives you a hug.

"Is your coach always like this?" You ask her, still embarrassed.

"Yep, get used to it."

"I will never get used to wearing these colors," you say, putting your hand on your badge.

"You deserve it more than anyone." She leads you to your teammates, and one by one, you get introduced to them, even though you already knew most of them, never leaving your side, for which you were eternally grateful to her. You leave Alexia for last, and she gives you a quick hug and a reassuring look, which is what you need to finally ground yourself.

They all line up to give you the guard of honor, which you try to make them not do, but Mapi basically pushes you to run, feeling all the smacks on your back as you are running. The training was great after that. You managed to talk and get to know everyone, and everyone was so nice to you.

The intensity, though, was something that you had never experienced before. The Barça rhythms were definitely higher than the ones from Roma, but you weren't the one who would give up that easily, overworking your body, trying to prove yourself to the coach.

You were on a water break, trying to catch your breath, putting your hands on your knees, straightening your back. You feel a hand at the back of your neck lightly squeezing, asking for your attention. You immediately recognize her touch, even though you didn't see her. You turn around to look at her, and you are met with a worried look.

“Are you okay, cariñ- Y/n?“

"So good." You say breathlessly. "I just have to get used to this much running, that's all."

"Do you want me to talk to the coach?"

"I don't need any special treatment, Alexia." You squirm away from her and jump on Mapi's back, interrupting her from some conversation she was having with Pina and Patri. You felt bad about leaving Alexia like that, so coldly, but then again, you always hated when people were concerned about your physical health or were just trying to help; it made you vulnerable, and you hated that. You immediately regretted how you talked to Alexia and decided that after practice, you would apologize to her.

When practice ended, you were exhausted but still very happy. Alexia was practicing free kicks as everyone left to change.

"Piccola mia, I'm really sorry about how I replied to you today." You say regretfully, placing your hand on her back, making her turn to you.

"I wasn't trying to give you any special treatment, Y/n." What happened to cariño? "I am your captain; if you feel bad or worn out, it's my responsibility to help you." She replies sadly, playing with the ball on her feet.

"I know. And I'm sorry. I just hate when people are worried about me. It makes me feel vulnerable. And I know you were just worried, so I'm really sorry."

"I know you are. Come here and give me a proper hug." She opens her arms for you, which you gladly take, and circle your arms around her waist, putting your head on her chest. Those types of hugs with her were your favorite hugs.

"Now, are you ready for the initiation?"

You break off the hug and look at her, puzzled. "What initiation? Mapi never told me anything."

"Well, it's more like a team bonding get-together with karaoke."

"So I have to sing? Will you sing too?"

"I am not singing, but you are a newbie, so you have to." She explains as if she were stating the obvious.

"The hell I am not."

"The hell you are." She chuckles.

"I do love music, but I do not sing. When I am sober, at least."

"You kinda have to; it's a tradition. Everyone has done it. It's about shedding any fear of embarrassment."

"But Ale-"

"Nope, it's settled." You sigh at her words and then leave to go to the dressing room.

“Goodbye capitana.”

“Goodbye cariño.”

In the meantime, Mapi and Patri were watching your interaction with Ale from afar.

"I've never seen Alexia this… soft? It feels weird." Patri states to her friend.

"Who? Alexia and Y/n?" Mapi asks dumbly, trying not to give out any details.

"I never specified Y/n." She raises an eyebrow. "Wait. Do you know something?" The midfielder's face turns into a wide smirk.

"I don't have anything to say to you that I should say."

"So you have something for me that you shouldn't say?" She asks, flipping the situation.

"Stop using wordy sentences to make me confused."

"You didn't reply to my question. Are they dating? Wait, is she the girl we all thought a couple of months ago fucked her?"

"I don't know anything! If you are really that curious, go and ask her!" Your friend replies defensively, really trying not to spill any secrets.

At that moment, you walked through the door and saw your friend, "You didn't tell me I had to sing?! Oh hey, Patri." You turn around to your new teammates happily waving at her, and then you go back to point your finger angrily at your friend.

"Oh, come on! How bad it could be! You were in a band, after all." She says

"You were in a band?" Patri asks curiously.

"I had a really dark past.." You explain quickly and dramatically. "Plus, you know well I didn't sing!"

"Oh, come on. Don't be too dramatic. I'll get you a couple of drinks, then you'll sing something, and that's that."

That evening, you were exhausted from your training, so you decided to have a power nap in Alexia's house, which she gladly joined you in. After a couple of hours, you were ready to go and left for the pub, where you would meet the girls from the team.

As soon as you get there, you leave Alexia to go to Mapi and mingle with some of the Spanish girls in that group, Ona, Aitana, Pina, and Patri. While Alexia went to talk to the older girls and her friends from the national team. Some hours in the night passed, and you were really glad that you were getting along with everybody from the team.

At first, you were very shy with them, but thankfully, Mapi, and in some instances Alexia, helped you a little to open up and make your teammates able to get to know you. Some girls were drinking, but you decided not to, and many of them started off the karaoke, making you sometimes laugh at their stupidity, whereas in others, you would clap at them.

You knew that your turn was coming when you saw Mapi run to another room and come out with a guitar in her hand, making you roll her eyes at her, completely understanding her intentions. You used to play the guitar when you were younger, and you actually were quite good at it. But you hadn't played in so long, and as the hype woman your best friend was and the fact that she loved embarrassing you, fully knowing you hated being the center of attention, she brought a guitar just for everybody to see and ask you about it.

She handed it to you, making you chuckle at her sarcastically, but she was wearing this proud smirk, which showed that she wasn't doing this just to make you uncomfortable and tease but also to show you off, which you thought was very unnecessary.

You open the guitar case, and you see a beautiful acoustic guitar.

"Where did you get this? Did you steal it?" You joke, admiring the guitar.

"The guy behind the bar recognized us and gave me the guitar."

"Do you play the guitar, Y/n?" Ona asks you curiously, making you turn your head around the table.

"Well, I used to play it; I haven't played in a very long time." You say while you pick it up and run the strings through your hands. You stopped playing the guitar when you left for Chelsea. Usually, music was your happy place, but when you moved out from Spain and broke up with Kate, your love for the instrument dissipated, and you wouldn't bring yourself to do something that you enjoyed so much.

"You should play something for us," Patri adds excitedly.

"Oh no." You reply shyly, putting away the guitar. "I haven't played in so long, plus I don't think I remember much, and I really don't want to embarrass myself." You chuckle nervously, hoping that they will let it go. In the meantime, the guitar thing caught some attention, so now, not only was your table waiting for you to play something, but everyone in your group and some other clients in the pub were waiting for you to play something.

"Oh nonsense, you know that you have to perform; if you don't play the guitar, you'll have to sing. So you decide…" Mapi spurs you on. You take a deep breath and move your chair to the little stage where the people would normally sing karaoke. You quickly tune the guitar, and then you finally feel all the eyes on you.

"Okay, if I get some notes wrong, please don't laugh at me." You look at Alexia one last time, who is somehow sitting with Mapi now, and she gives you a reassuring smile.

So you begin playing one of your favorite songs on the guitar; every time you play it, it reminds you of when life was fun and simple. Whenever you played it, you would get lost in the music and daydream of what those sounds elicit. (If you want to hear it, it's 'Mutter' from Rob Scallon, the live version)

As soon as you start playing, your tattooed friends turn to Alexia.

"Good luck, my friend." She pats her back ironically.

"What, why?" Alexia whispers, still trying to give you her full undivided attention.

"If she still plays like she played years ago, she has this way of conveying many emotions. Either they are sad or happy; whenever she plays something, she amplifies it by a thousand. The song that she is about to play is going to hit you like a ton of bricks, believe me."

The song begins slowly, but then it gets faster and fuller. It made you regret to decide this piece after not playing in so long, but you loved it, and honestly, you really wanted to show off a little to your teammates and, most definitely, to Alexia. Thankfully, this worry of making mistakes was quickly forgotten when you began getting lost in the music. You really missed being able to play and express yourself in this way.

As soon as you finish the song with the last chord, you don't dare to look at your teammates; only when you hear the claps do you lightly blush and turn your gaze around the room, searching for those beautiful eyes that have the capacity to render you hopeless, but you couldn't see her, nor your friend for that matter.

Your performance was nearly finished, and Alexia never took her eyes off you; she thought that what Mapi said was right; your performance hit her like a ton of bricks, but more than anything, it brought out a huge realization that Alexia could quite withstand, so she left, to go to the bathroom, trying to get some space. Mapi quickly followed her friend, and as soon as they were inside the small room, the defender turned to pacing Alexia.

"Woahh, hey, calm down. What happened?" She asks the midfielder, placing her hands on her shoulders, trying to stop her from walking around the room.

She takes a deep breath, "Mapi, I have a problem. A huge one."

"Okay, tell me what it is; I know that we can find a solution to it." Her shorter friend reassures her, clearly shocked to see her captain in this state.

"I don't think we can. I just realized that I am in love with her." She says, putting her hands on her face.

"Who?"

"Who? Mapi really? Lady Gaga. No Y/n, you idiot."

"Sorry, I just wanted to check. But why is it such a problem?"

"Because we decided not to have anything serious, and I really don't want to get rejected when I was the one that continuously pointed out that we weren't dating whenever someone asked."

"I think she feels the same. No. I know that she feels the same. Gosh, I spent five days with you two alone in a house; I can understand when two of my best friends are in love with each other. Eyes don't lie. And don't you dare tell that you haven't been already acting like a couple for at least 6 months now!"

"Do you really think that?"

"I know that. Just tell her how you feel. You won't lo-"

You open the door to the bathroom, searching for Alexia. She had been missing for a couple of minutes now, so you were a little worried that she might have been sick.

"Oh, here you are! I thought you left or you were sick!" You say happily when you finally find Alexia and Mapi, but then you notice something wrong with her, as if she was shaken up. "Wait, are you okay?" You asked, worried, coming closer to her.

"I'm okay, cariño." She reassures you, and then her expression changes into something happier and more proud. "I didn't know you were so good at playing the guitar!"

"I was better a long time ago. I haven't played in years, but this woman here." You point at Mapi quickly, "Can't mind her own business."

"Thankfully, she didn't; I know for sure you wouldn't have told me that you are good at playing an instrument."

"I would have told you!" You cross your arms, pouting.

"No, you wouldn't." She shakes her head, smiling, while Mapi nods, backing her up. "You'd hate for anybody to know that you are good at something, just in fear of being at the center of the attention." She explains, making you blink twice. It felt as if you were an open book for her to read and understand you perfectly.

"Get out of my head." You remark shyly, earning from her a chuckle. "So you liked the song?" You ask shyly and insecurely.

She gently places her hands on your cheeks, gently caressing them to give you some reassurance. "I loved it; you are a wonderful guitar player, cariño."

"Thank you." You lightly blush. For a moment, you forget that Mapi is in the same room as the two of you because you place your finger on your lips to silently ask her to kiss you. Which she gladly does, feeling her smile against your lips

"I'm still here, you know!" Mapi interrupts you from your little moment, irritated. "Bleah, I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing this." You raise your middle finger at her, still kissing Alexia, fully starting to make out with her. You hear the door shut, making you temporarily pull away from her to look behind you, then resuming back to kissing her.

Five minutes later, you both decide to go back to your teammates, but as the night progresses, you feel yourself getting more and more tired, making all of your clinginess appear. You would orbit around Alexia more, trying to find some physical comfort in her presence, even though you really didn't want to show off your 'relationship' with her.

She noticed this almost immediately, so when you were passing by her, in a swift movement, she wraps her arms around your waist and dragged you to her lap; you stumble a little, trying to balance yourself, placing your arm on her shoulder,

"Are you tired?" She whispers in your ear as if you were the only two people in the room.

"Yes, I am a little. How did you know?"

"I have already seen you tired many times, cariño. You are very touchy when you are tired." You subconsciously move away from her, but she keeps you in place firmly. "Don't move away; I love this side of you."

At first, your new teammates gave the both of you a surprised look, but nobody would dare to say anything besides Mapi, obviously, who sent you from across the room a knowing look, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

By the end of the night, you had played some more guitar as some of your teammates wanted to sing some more songs. But after a couple more hours, you were exhausted, and when Alexia noticed it, she decided to bring you home to sleep.

That morning, when you woke up, everything in your body ached somehow. You really had to get used to Barcelona's rhythms. The bed was empty, so you figured that Alexia was making breakfast, so you painfully make it to Alexia's kitchen wearing one of her big shirts and some shorts you found along the way to the kitchen, which were scattered the night before trying to get to the bedroom. She was making coffee the way you liked it, with the moka instead of using her Nespresso machine 'that she loves so much,' which made you smile at her attentiveness. As soon as you walk into her kitchen, she turns around and walks towards you, giving you a small kiss on the lips.

“Good morning, cariño. Did you sleep well?" She turns to her kitchen again, rummaging through the cabinet on top of her stove.

"I slept really well. What are you doing?" You ask her curiously, leaning on the kitchen countertop and peaking.

"So I found out that my mom had a moka in her kitchen all this time, and I didn't even notice it! So I asked her if I could borrow it since I know you prefer this coffee to the machine." She says while putting the coffee maker on the stove.

"Ale, you shouldn't have done that! I would've gladly drank whichever one you had; you didn't have to go through such trouble for me." You lightly slap her shoulder.

"I didn't go through any trouble. I just wanted to make you feel at home."

Before saying something that you most probably regret, aka replying with But you are my home. You dragged her to your height, kissed her to show all of your gratitude, and whispered a small thank you. When the coffee was ready, you both sat down on her small table and had breakfast.

You were talking about some media stuff you were going to do in the afternoon when you heard a knock on the door. Alexia looks at you confused, not expecting anybody, and she leaves with Nana in tow; as she opens the door, you hear Alexia talking to a woman who has a very similar voice to hers, and then you hear her scream, "No, Alba, no!"

You see the woman enter the kitchen with Alexia chasing after her as if she didn't want her to meet you.

"Hello, my name is Alba. I'm Alexia's sister." You suddenly widen your eyes, shocked. She offers you her hand to shake, and you stand up.

"Hi, I'm Y/N." You shake her hand and offer her a shy smile, subconsciously searching for Alexia to help you out with this unexpected visit.

"I know who you are; my sister nearly broke your nose. By the way, I want to apologize on her behalf; she never had proper manners."

"Alba!" Alexia screams, exasperated, while you release a light chuckle.

"Don't worry, she has already apologized. But yes, she has to work on her manners." You wink at Alexia, making her roll your eyes at you.

"Since when are you guys dating?" She asks curiously, earning another frustrated scream from Alexia.

"Oh no. We are not dating; she is just helping me out because a pipe exploded in my apartment." You reassure her while she stares at you confused, then lowers her gaze,

"So you give your clothes to all of your guests?" Alba asks her sister ironically, making you slightly blush.

"Well, I- I," The older sister stutters, making the other draw conclusions by herself.

"So you are dating."

"It's complicated." She says. "Is there any particular reason why you are here?"

"I forgot my sweater here last week, and I need it back. But I can come at another time."

"No, I'll get it for you." She disappears into the house, leaving you and Alba in an awkward silence.

Thankfully, Alexia comes back thirty seconds later,

"So you should come to dinner at mom's house sometime. She would love to meet your new 'roommate.'" She teases her older sister, clearly trying to irritate her.

"Well, then, you should invite Alexandre too since you live at his house more than you live at your own house." She replies sarcastically.

"I thought we reached an agreement to never talk about Alexandre ever again after the incident."

"By incident, she means when I caught them fucking in the bathroom during the semi-finals against Chelsea last year." She explains to you, clearly trying to irritate her sister, making you feel like you are getting way too much information on their dynamics in one sitting.

"Let me guess: when she saw you, she made some sarcastic remark, rolled her eyes, and left, right?" You joke, clearly imagining the scene.

"That's exactly it! Always rolling her eyes at people. So annoying! Finally, someone who gets it!"

"Uggghh." Alexia sighs and rolls her eyes at you both.

"See! She just did it again!"

"I don't like this coalition between the two of you." She lightly pouts.

"It's not a coalition when we are simply just stating the truth!" You lightly tease her, earning an approving nod from Alexia's sister.

"I hate you both!" She exclaims, fully knowing that she was just lying.

"No, you don't." Then you turn to Alba, "It was nice meeting you; I hope we'll see each other soon. I have to get changed for practice." You leave the two sisters while you get ready for training.

After a couple of minutes, Alexia entered your now shared room; you turned to her and placed your hands on her shoulders.

"So you met my sister…"

"She's very nice; I hope I made a good impression." You say insecurely.

"You made a great impression, cariño. I'm just really sorry that you had to meet her in these circumstances. Not to put pressure on you, but my sister can't keep a secret, and she'll definitely tell my mom about you."

"What a way to not put pressure on me." You chuckle nervously.

"Don't worry. I will handle everything, okay?" She gives you a small peck. "Now, are you ready?"

Training that day was even more intense than the day before, with the exception that you were finding so many link-ups with your new teammates. Sometimes, you would forget that you weren't training anymore with your old teammates, that if you passed the ball to the right, you would find Giugliano without looking, or that Linari was right behind you, ready for a pass if you needed it.

Now, you had different teammates, and your body had to get used to it.

Being back on the pitch with Mapi had been so exciting. Both of your styles of play evolved so much that how you played at Atletico didn't matter anymore. She loved playing with the ball, so you'd expect more passes from her than before.

What really changed everything for you were the players up front. Playing behind Alexia and Aitana was something that didn't happen every day. The best way for them to express themselves was if you were able to cover defensively for them, which you were doing gladly. Adapting to their style of play was not simple; they played on short and fast passes and opted less for long passes, which were your specialty.

You were practicing on free kicks, which you thought you were pretty good at. You didn't know why, but you were able to curve the ball perfectly, making the goalkeepers go crazy.

You were in a team with Mapi against Alexia and Graham Hansen, whom you were unceremoniously obsessed with her football skills.

It was your turn to shoot your first free-kick. Paños was on goal, and she was eying the ball. You go for the kick and curve the ball perfectly; the goalkeeper didn't even move because she thought it would be going out. It hit a top bin, and it was in. You throw your hand in the air competitively. "Dajeee!"

"That was a great curved ball! Where did you learn that?" Mapi asked, shocked, as she had never seen you take a free kick like that before.

You shake your shoulders nonchalantly while Caro asks you, "What are your free kick stats?"

"Like all time or just last season?" You ask shyly.

"All the time."

"Well, since I played for Roma, I was usually the one who took free kicks. I guess out of fifty-one direct free kicks, I scored forty-seven if I remember correctly."

"Wait, really?" Alexia asks you, shocked.

"Well, I love taking free kicks, and I practice a lot on them."

"That's not normal, Y/n; that's a really high conversion rate. I don't understand why I just heard about this!" Your friend tells you.

"I don't know, I just love taking them." You shrug your shoulders. "Plus, when I go for a curved ball, I don't know how, but I do it in a way that is almost impossible to predict."

"You can do a knuckleball too?"

"I'm not that good at that." They move the ball to the place and offer you to kick it. You hit the ball hard, and it goes for the post, then bounces off the other and goes in.

You scrunch your nose, dissatisfied, getting a new ball for another free kick, while your teammates look at you, shocked.

You turn to look at them, "What?

"Well, now we have to change teams, or it's going to get too easy for you guys!" Alexia says competitively.

"Oh, hell no! Now it's too late; we already decided on the teams!" Mapi says.

"Well, let Y/n decide." Ale crosses her arms, looking at you. "Do you want to swap teams and be with me, who is currently hosting you in my home, or that woman over there?" She points disgusted Mapi.

"Well, I-"You try to talk.

"Of course, she's going to choose me! I've known her for more than seven years!" They kept on bickering while you and Caro just stared at them, chuckling.

"You know? I think I'm actually switching teams." You raise an eyebrow, smirking.

"You made the right decision," Alexia says proudly. She walks to you to get on your side.

"That's arrogant to assume that I would switch teams with you, Alexia." You give her a smirk and walk to Caro's side, leaving Mapi and Alexia next to each other. "Caro and I are going to destroy you!"

And so you did. After another twenty minutes, you finally leave the pitch and get home with Alexia. Once again, you were exhausted, but you were very happy that you were able to get along with your new teammates.

As soon as you get home, you throw yourself to the couch while Nala jumps on top of you for cuddles, which you gladly give her.

Alexia was still pouting because she lost the free-kick competition. "Oh, come on, you can't be still mad!"

"I'm not mad."

"Well, it's not every day that you get to be on the same team as Caroline Graham Hansen. You know how much I am obsessed with her football skills."

"Well, then, why don't you go and ask her if you could crash at her place."

You sit right up and drag her by the shirt to you. "Are you jealous, piccola?"

"No, I am not! Why would I ever be! Caro is in a relationship with Marta. Plus, I am the one that has two Ballon d'Or." She says, trying to convince you.

"I know. You are the best of the best. I had to basically seduce you so that my team could have a chance against you. And you don't have to worry about anyone. There is no one else." The last words unconsciously slip out of your mouth, making you mentally curse at yourself.

"There is no one else for me either. Y/n, I have to tell you something." You nod at her while placing your arms on her shoulders.

"I'm in lo-"The phone rings again. This time, it is Alexia's phone. She goes to look at it. "It's my agent. I really need to take this."

After thirty minutes, she comes back looking stressed out.

"What was the call about, that made you go on the phone for thirty minutes?" You ask curiously.

"Oh no, I was also on the phone with my mom; that's why I was out for so long."

"Is everything okay at home?"

"Everything is great!" You could see that something was up. "But you know when I told you that my mom found out about you-us?"

"No? I thought that she still didn't know."

"Well, now she does. AndsheinvitedusfordinnerandIdidn'tknowwhethertotellyoubecauseIdon'tknowifyouwanttocome."

"What, sorry? I know you have this cute little habit of talking fast when you are nervous, but remember that I am not Spanish."

"Sorry." She takes a deep breath. "My mom invited us for dinner. You can totally say no, but-"

"I would love to come to dinner, Alexia. You didn't have to be that nervous." You give her a small peck on the lips. "Tell her I will bring the dessert."

"So, are you ready to finally meet your mother-in-law this afternoon?" Mapi asks you while you leave for morning training together. Finally, your home was fixed from the pipe, and you were able to finally live there. There was still a lot of work to do as you had to basically furnish the apartment, which had been really hard, especially when you were away for most of the day.

Thankfully, Mapi offered to help build a table that you had bought from Ikea in your living room, so with some help, your home was starting to take shape.

"She is not my mother-in-law. I am not currently in a relationship."

"I still don't understand why you can't tell her how you feel."

"Fear of rejection. Or fear that it's going to turn out like my previous relationship. Fear of being just delusional or fear of-"

"Okay, you have made your point! I just feel like you should; maybe you'll find out that she feels the same."

"Yeah, right. As if someone like her could fall for someone like me. She's way out of my league. But anyway, you have met Alexia's sister and mom, how are they? Do you have any tips?"

"They are going to love you. Just be yourself."

"That's not helping, Mapi." You chuckle.

"Ugh, just be polite and show that you genuinely care for Alexia. They are very protective of her. Don't show off, and don't be too shy. But I really don't think you are going to have a problem doing all that."

As soon as you went home, you quickly got ready in your desolate apartment; as soon as you were done, Alexia texted you.

Your Favorite Kickboxer ;)

I'll be here in 5 minutes.

The nerves were kinda getting to you, so you paced around your empty living room until Alexia came knocking at your door. As soon as she saw you, she quickly gave you a hug and pecked your lips.

"Hey, Cariño, are you ready?"

"So ready! You don't even know!" You fake out.

"Okay, yeah. You have to work on your lying skills. What's up? You don't have to come if you don't want to." She says calmly.

"It's not that Ale. I'm just nervous. I haven't met the mom and sister of a girl I am seeing since my ex. I'm just nervous, that's it."

"They'll love you, believe me. Now, take a deep breath; everything will be fine. We will go to my mom's for lunch, and she will show you some of my baby pictures, trying to embarrass me, and my sister will do the same. Then we'll get back home, cuddle up on the couch, and watch some of your sappy movies, okay?" You slowly nod, feeling a slight motivation through her words. "Now are you ready, cariño?"

You slightly nod, and she leads you to her car, but before that, you stop her and gently kiss her lips. "Thank you. You know I really, really like you?" You tell her.

"I really, really like you too."

You get to Alexia's mom's house, and the first thing she does is go up and hug you. You were taken by surprise, but after a second of shock, you quickly reciprocated.

"You must be Y/n, right?"

"Yes, it's me. You have a lovely house."

She takes you into the living room, and then she quickly disappears into the kitchen while Alba appears out of her room to see you.

You lightly chat with her until Alexia's mom screams for the two girls to come and help her; they quickly get into the small kitchen, clearly not knowing what to do.

"Do you need help, Eli?" You ask shyly.

"Oh no, you are the guest." She says, gently smacking your hands away from the pan you were stirring.

"Oh really, it's no biggie. I love cooking, plus I know how much Ale is a disaster in the kitchen. I can help if you like." You offer politely.

"For your information, I am a great cook," Alexia says, slightly offended. Neither her sister nor her own mother backed her up. All knowing how bad she was, making you chuckle.

"Don't worry, mija, you have some great qualities too." Her mom lightly teases Alexia, making her pout cutely.

As soon as lunch was ready, you helped set up the table, and you sat down.

"So, Y/n, how do you like Barcelona?"

"Oh, I love it here. I just had a minor slip-up with my apartment, but now everything is fixed."

"You are from Italy, right? Because I don't hear any accent." Her mom asks curiously.

"Well, I lived in Spain for a long time before moving clubs. I played for Atletico Madrid with Mapi."

"So you must be happy having her back as your teammate."

"I'm really glad. Plus, Barcelona has always been my dream club."

"Is it difficult being away from home?"

"Well, I left my home in Italy when I was really young; I left to study in the USA."

"Oh wow, what did you study there?" Alba asks you.

"I studied physiotherapy."

"So when you retire from football, you could become a therapist for Barcelona or some other football club," Alexia suggests.

"Well, I could, but I actually work with prosthesis. I studied to help people who have lost their limbs to build them prosthesis."

"I didn't know that!" Ale tells you, shocked but also proud.

Lunch proceeded great. Ale's mom and Alba were just like Mapi pictured them. Fiercely loyal and protective of one another. You really hoped that you made a good impression because even though you weren't in an actual relationship with Alexia, meeting her family felt like a huge step, and you'd hate for them to not feel like Ale made the right decision by seeing each other.

What you really liked, though, was the fact that you could see how much Alexia was being herself around her family. She didn't have her walls up, nor did she have to keep up with her duties as the captain. She was just herself, and you were lucky enough to be able to experience it and be part of her inner circle.

As soon as lunch was finished, you stood up to help Ale's mom clean up the table, and then you brought the dessert that you had made for the occasion.

"I didn't have much time to prepare something fancier; my kitchen is still a mess."

"You didn't have to prepare anything!" Ale's mom replies while she cuts open the cake you had stress baked for the occasion.

"My parents always taught me to never walk into a home as a guest empty-handed." You simply reply. "And really, it's nothing. I love baking, so actually, you gave me an excuse to make something."

"You know, Y/n, out of all of the girls that Alexia has brought home, you might be the nicest." You turn your head down, blushing, while Alexia, embarrassed, calls out her mother.

"Well, I think that just the fact that you are here means a lot. You know, Y/n, Alexia had a very bumpy love life." Alba calls her sister out, making Alexia send her a death glare.

You were too curious now, "I wanna hear all the details." You rub your hands, waiting for Alba to fill you in.

"Well, Alexia had many situationships that ended rather quickly."

"Alba!" Alexia warns her.

"One lasted two weeks I think, with this nice girl. For the record, she was really nice. The poor girl had the misfortune to be a cat person. Nana didn't like her, so she stopped seeing her."

"For the record, I don't regret it! My Nala is my best matchmaker, and I could never be in a relationship with someone who doesn't like my dog, who's currently living with me."

You chuckle lightly at her, "Thankfully, Nala likes me, or else, I wouldn't have lasted even a day." You tease Alexia, remembering how you met the small dog when you first hooked up with her, how Nala would try to get her owner's attention, but she was too busy on you to actually care.

"Well, thankfully, you are also a Barça fan because my sister left a fucking date because they were a Madrid fan."

"Okay, it did not go like that." Ale tries to explain herself, but she is soon cut off by her sister again.

"You told her that you played football, and she made a small comment about how she slightly preferred Madrid to Barcelona."

"She wanted me to go to the Bernabeu with her." She pauses. "On the Madrid section!"

"Poor girl, you turned down a girl just because of her club preference?" You chuckled at her stubbornness.

"She was also very annoying."

"How many dates did you go with the Madritista?" You ask her.

"One." You all burst out laughing.

"The next girl instead, more than a situationship, was a failed date. She was a friend of a friend of mine, and after the date, Ale called me and I asked how the date went, and she replied that she thought that the girl was amazing, but she didn't like the outfit, so it wouldn't work." Alba chuckles hard, making you shake your head teasingly at Alexia.

"In my defense, she was amazing, but the outfit was too distracting, so much so that it felt like our personalities wouldn't go together."

"You got all that by an outfit?" You ask her incredulously.

"Yes." She states bluntly making you playfully shake your head at her.

By the time lunch was finished, you were about to leave.

"It was lovely meeting the both of you. I really hope I'll see you soon." You go to hug the two women and then leave to go to the car, waiting for Alexia to say the final goodbye.

When Ale gets into the car, she sits in the driver's seat, takes your hand, and kisses it.

"Thank you for coming."

"Thank you, for inviting me. Now let's go home; we have a couch to build."

As you get home, Ale quickly gets ready to build your Ikea couch while you take some of your most valuable stuff, like family pictures or small trinkets that hide memories that you will forever treasure.

You were unpacking the first ball they gave you when you scored your first hat trick, then you moved to a larger box, and you soon felt overwhelmed by how much stuff you had to unpack, making you slightly regret your life choices.

Alexia was still on the floor trying to build up your couch when she suddenly resurfaced clumsily.

"Why are those instructions so difficult? I just feel like Ikea should be better at making them. I should ask Frido." She complains to herself, making you chuckle from across the room.

As you looked at her while she was building your couch, without anything in return, just simply to make you feel more at home, a warm feeling spread through your chest.

You just smiled. Smiled at the woman who came out of nowhere and turned your life around. Smiled at the woman who had taken your heart without you noticing it. And then you realize that maybe what you had with Alexia right now wasn't enough for you. You wanted more. Because those feelings that you had slowly built over time weren't avoidable anymore. What you had with her wasn't enough, and you realized that you couldn't pretend anymore that you were okay with it.

You needed to be alone, to think, to prepare yourself. Just her being in the same house as you was just too much. You were feeling too much. Feeling too much for her.

So you quickly stood up, crossing your arms, unconsciously wanting to close yourself off as much as possible.

"Ale, I need you to get out."

She turns towards you and sees how much you were shaken. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is good. I just need you to leave, please." You try to be as convincing as possible.

"Everything is not good. You are not good. Tell me what's wrong." She rubs your shoulders soothingly in worry.

You don't know why, but your mind figured that it would be best if you'd just rip the bandaid off.

"Ale, I think we have a problem." You take a deep breath. "I think I'm in love with you."

There was no turning back now. You could take your words back, so you waited patiently as her brows furrowed and then quickly fixed in a soft expression.

"I think we have two problems then. Because I think I am in love with you too."

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot #woso imagine #woso #woso fanfics

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mononijikayu · 6 months ago

Text

“beautiful boy (darling boy)” — gojo satoru.

“Papa chose the character for you. It means 'dawn'.” He whispered to him tenderly, almost like a little lullaby. “Because you are the beginning of a new chapter for our family. You bring light and hope into our lives, just like the dawn brings a new day."

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, mention of pregnancy, depiction of the aftermath of birth, depiction of parenthood, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: beautiful boy (darling boy) by john lennon.

NOTE: my classes were cancelled and i just played random music on my phone and this.....sort of sparked something. i sobbed to this, by the way. this might be my last one for now. i've just been frantically making these for the past few days. i'll come back after some rest!!! i love you all so much!!! <3

addendum: the character satoru chose for satoshi is '暁' which means dawn/daybreak; satoshi was born on the same day as his father in 2014.

masterlist

u s and t h e m

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, HE DIDN’T KNOW IT WOULD COME TO THIS. He could remember it like it was yesterday, when you held out your hand and took his — placing them together on your belly. Your lilac eyes shone against his bright blue, full of wonder and anxiety. He was frozen at that moment. He was overwhelmed.

Not even his six-eyes could keep up with his emotions, his thoughts. He knew it was an accident, he knew it wasn’t something both of you planned. But he was happy. He was all too happy that he scooped you in his arms, as though you were the treasure of the world and cradled you, whispering the most loving things, loving words ever known to any being.

It was never your plan to have children, not even with the pressure from the elders of your clans. There was never the time. There was never a sense of security. WIth what Satoru was planning to do, with what dangers there’ll be — just like he had experienced in youth, none of you wanted that for your child. And you wanted to help him, you wanted to do well by him. Satoru was your lifeline, your purpose to live was his goal. Your life with him was what made your life blossom in these past few years of marriage. But that changed too, with the bludding life growing in your belly.

You both cried that night, holding each other. It was hard to comprehend that this was happening, that a child had chosen both of you. You were glad that the Tsumiki and Megumi were at a sleep-over. They didn’t need to see you both so conflicted with your joy and your worries. No kid should be burdened by such a thing as the worries of the heavy world.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of evening casting long shadows on the walls. Satoru sat across from you, his cerulean eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions—excitement, concern, and a fierce determination to protect. The news of your pregnancy had brought a bittersweet mix of joy and anxiety.

“We need to decide what to do next, darling.” Satoru said, his voice steady but laced with worry. “I don’t want you to suffer like my mother did. The multiple assassination attempts... I can’t let that happen to you.”

“We can’t tell the world, Satoru,” you said quietly with a soft nod. “The higher-ups could see this as an issue. There was a time when the passing of powers in the Gojo clan – similar to the Six-Eyes, was from father to son. They might see our child as a threat, Satoru….and I…I don’t want them to hurt our child.”

Satoru’s jaw tightened, his protective instincts kicking in. “Then we keep this between us, Megumi, and Tsumiki. My mother….maybe your mother and Aunt Arisu can help us hide this from the world too. They’ll understand the importance of keeping this secret.”

You reached out, your fingers intertwining with his. “They will. They’ve always been supportive of us…and our plans. They’ll be kind to us about this too. It is their next of kin now, after all.”

For a moment, your husband looks at you. His free hand draped across your cheek and you looked at him so lovingly, leaning your head against the warm palm of his hand. He could feel how lucky he was. How beautiful you were. His eyes lowered at your belly and felt that same warmth glowing from within you, as welcoming and loving towards the person who had helped give such life to the growing seed in your belly.

Satoru pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “I’m sorry, darling.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with confusion. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because….” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “You’re the one who will suffer the most here, not me. The secrecy, the danger... it’s all on you. And all I can do is hold your hand. And I….”

You shook your head, resting your hand against his cheek. “Your hand is more than enough. You by my side is more than enough. All I have ever needed, all our child will ever need — is you. All they need is their father.”

“When did I ever deserve something as good as you in my life?”

You smiled at him, “Because you are good, Satoru. You’ve always been.”

“You’re the most important thing in my life.” He whispers to you, his hand on your belly. “You and our child.”

“We’re in this together, Satoru. I’m not alone in this.” You let your hand brush against his silver locks. “Because you’ll always be here, hm?”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “I love you,” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. “I love both of you. And I’ll protect you with all I have.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the weight of his words sinking in. “I love you too,” you whispered, feeling the strength of his love envelop you. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

The next few days were a whirlwind of planning and preparation. Your mother and Aunt Arisu were brought into the fold, their wisdom and experience invaluable in devising a plan to keep your pregnancy a secret. They promised to support you in any way they could, offering their home as a safe haven where you could hide from prying eyes.

Megumi and Tsumiki were surprisingly understanding, their loyalty to you and Satoru unwavering. They vowed to keep the secret, to protect their future sibling from the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the jujutsu world.

As the weeks turned into months, you found strength in the love and support of those around you. Satoru’s determination to protect you never wavered, his presence a constant source of comfort and reassurance. Despite the secrecy and the danger, there was a sense of hope that carried you through each day.

And in the quiet moments, when it was just the two of you, you felt a deep sense of gratitude for the love that bound you together. It was a love that would see you through the darkest of times, a love that would protect and nurture the new life growing inside you. And with Satoru by your side, you knew you could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

The days leading up to Satoru's confrontation with Sukuna were heavy with unspoken fears and silent resolutions. Each moment felt borrowed, a fragile gift that could shatter under the weight of impending doom. You moved through your days with a heightened awareness, every touch, every glance laden with meaning. The anticipation was a living thing, a constant presence that neither of you could shake.

The last time you both saw your son was during separate visits to the ancestral manor. He knew you had been there, especially when you brought Yuuji along at his request. Satoru had visited him shortly afterward, driven by an insistent need to see his boy before the impending confrontation. The weight of the world seemed lighter, if only for a moment, as he thought of his son.

Satoru could only sigh, the longing in his heart palpable. He had yearned for Suguru for the past eleven, twelve years, a constant ache that never quite faded. Yet, this longing for Suguru, as intense as it was, paled in comparison to the deep, unyielding yearning of a father. He had missed his son so much, too much. The distance, both physical and emotional, had been a torment he could hardly bear.

Satoru was certain he remembered everything about his son. The boy was a spitting image of him—silver hair that fell a bit longer, the same striking blue eyes, though his son's were even darker, like the depths of the sea. But more importantly, he recognized the essence of you in every move, every quirk, every smile. Your son might look like Satoru, but in all the ways that mattered, he was you.

Satoru adored him the most in the world. Even if he loves you, there is truly nothing that’s going to encapsulate, translate how much he loves his little boy. Your son was a constant, beautiful reminder of the bond you both shared. Your son carried your grace, your kindness, and your strength. Every time Satoru looked at him, he saw the love and unity that defined your relationship. For that, he was profoundly grateful. For that, he was happy. There was a reminder of you, of him, together in this world, encapsulated in the boy who bore the best of both of you.

And here he was, newly sealed, recovering from all of it;

All he could think about was wanting to see your dear boy.

All he could think about was wanting to embrace him again.

"I want to go to Hida," he said, his voice steady but laced with a vulnerability that made your heart ache. He looks to you softly, eyes full of yearning. “I wanna see him.”

"Are you sure?" you asked gently, searching his face for any hesitation. You purse your lips. “Satoru, it’s unsafe now. Are you sure?”

He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. "I want to spend as much time as possible trying to make sure our son understands that his father loves him."

You could hear the uncertainty in his voice, the doubt that gnawed at him despite his resolute exterior. "Satoru, you're a good father." you assured him, but he shook his head, his expression conflicted. “You have put your own heart at hold to protect him. He understands.”

"I don't know if I'm doing it right or wrong," he admitted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I love our son as much as I love Megumi, as much as I love you. But I didn't have a father growing up. Mine died when I was young, and I don't remember him very well. My mother tells me that he loved a lot, but I don't know if I believe that."

You stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "You love our son, and that's what matters most. He's always known that, even if you haven't been able to be there as much as you wanted. He sees it because you show him.”

Satoru sighed, his gaze distant as he recalled the moments he missed, the milestones he couldn't witness firsthand. "I want to be the best father to him, darling. I want him to know he's the most beloved son. That I love him the most in the world.”

"You already are, Satoru," you whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“We have to see him.” Your husband retorts back to you, a sad smile on his lips. “If this is the last chance—”

“It won’t be,” You shake your head at him. “You know that.”

“I know, but…” He sighs, resting his head against the crook of your neck. “I want to be sure. Nothing is bound, darling. I want to… I want to be able to leave him with something he can remember his old man by.”

The weight of his words pressed down on you both, the unspoken fears and the grim reality of what was to come. You could feel your throat choke up as you tried to banish the tears from your eyes. The thought of Satoru not being there hurt you.

Not only because you loved him, but because you knew your son loved him the best in the world. The thought of him becoming without the person he holds dear in the world, it tears you apart.

You want to believe that your husband was the title he was given. You knew he was strong. You believe he will overcome this. That’s why you keep putting off visiting your son. It was safer, it would be in the future that you and Satoru had fought so hard to fight for. But your husband was just a man too. A man who has a finite life and a heart too big for the world to comprehend. He was just Satoru. A husband, a father. A friend, a teacher. He was just like that.

You look at him with a guilty look. You were selfish with him, with what you said. He needed you, he needed Satoru. Your son needed you both. As much as you needed him. What is protecting him from all these dangers, if you both weren’t there to love him either?

What is loving Satoru if you can’t be there for him either? If you can’t love him properly either? You took a deep breath. You’ve made up your mind. You will not deprive him of this. You would not be selfish with this. You would let him be selfish. You would let him live as he had never before.

You held him tighter, feeling the tension in his muscles, the vulnerability he rarely showed. “You’re right. We will see him, my love.” you affirmed, your voice steady. “And we’ll make sure he knows how much he’s loved.”

Satoru’s eyes met yours, a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. “Thank you, darling.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “For understanding, for always being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” you whispered to him tenderly as you kissed the small of his lips. “I should have been better with this.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry. You want to protect him too, I understand.” He tells you, a small smile on his lips. “Sukuna has familiarity with Hida, I know you’re wary about it.”

You nodded, the weight of your concerns evident in your eyes. “I just want to make sure he’s safe. That we’re all safe.”

Satoru’s smile softened, and he brushed a thumb over your cheek. “We’ll keep him safe. We’ll keep everyone safe. That’s a promise.”

You smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “We’re in this together, Satoru. Always.”

He kissed your forehead, a lingering touch that conveyed all the words he couldn’t say. “Let’s go to Hida,” he said finally. “Let’s spend this time with him, make memories that will stay with him.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of resolve settle within you. “Yes, let’s do that. We’ll make sure he knows how much he means to us.”

All of Satoru’s training was canceled for the next few days.

Everyone understood why and said nothing about any of it.

Gojo Satoru couldn’t be happier to enjoy the long trip.

Because the next he’ll get off the train, he’ll see his dear son.

ARRIVING IN HIDA WAS A REFRESHING THING. It was as though the looming war, the destruction, the suffering, did not exist. These precious days felt suspended in time, a haven of peace amidst the chaos.

Each sunrise brought with it a semblance of normalcy, a gentle reminder of the life you were fighting to protect. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the sun cast a warm, golden glow over everything it touched.

As the days passed, you found moments of solace in the simple joys of being together. Satoru’s determination to be the best father he could be was palpable. He approached fatherhood with the same intensity and dedication he showed in his sorcery, and you admired the way he threw himself into the role with such fervor.

His playful nature shone brightly as he engaged your son in games, stories, and lessons. The bond between father and son grew stronger with each passing day, and it filled you with a sense of hope and reassurance.

Gojo Satoshi did not know much about the wider world beyond the confines of the carefully constructed life you and your family had built around him. But Satoru thought that was for the best. At his tender age, the complexities and dangers of the world could wait.

For now, Satoshi was wrapped in a cocoon of love and safety, his days filled with laughter and innocence. The little lordling of the Gojo clan had the privilege of being shielded from the harsh realities, existing in a world where he was cherished and adored.

“Young master Gojo, please do not run too much! You’ll slip!” His nurse-maid's voice rang out in a mix of concern and exasperation as she hurried after the energetic boy. Her normally composed demeanor was visibly frazzled as she struggled to keep pace with her lively charge. “Young master!”

“Heh, chase me! Chase me!” Satoshi's infectious giggle echoed through the gardens, his small feet moving quickly across the manicured lawn. His silvery hair, so much like his father's, shimmered in the sunlight, and his blue eyes sparkled with pure delight.

The scene was picturesque, the verdant greenery of the garden serving as a perfect backdrop to the boy's joy. Flowers bloomed in a riot of colors, and the gentle hum of insects added to the serene atmosphere.

Gojo Satoru watched from a distance, a soft smile playing on his lips. He saw so much of himself in Satoshi, from the boy’s boundless energy to the mischievous glint in his eyes. Yet, he also saw you in him—the kindness, the warmth, the innate ability to find joy in the simplest things.

Satoshi’s world was small but rich, filled with the love and attention of those who cared for him. He didn't know of the looming threats or the responsibilities that came with his lineage. Instead, his days were spent exploring the garden, listening to stories, and playing games. It was a simple life, but it was one that Satoru cherished deeply for his son.

The nurse-maid finally caught up to Satoshi, scooping him into her arms despite his playful wriggling. “Young master, you must be careful,” she chided gently, her tone softening as she adjusted his tousled hair. “We wouldn’t want you to get hurt. You are too important to be hurt.”

Satoshi pouted for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. “Okay, I’ll be careful,” he promised, though the twinkle in his eye suggested that he was already planning his next adventure.

“Our little lordling is too bright for the sun, huh?” Satoru approached, his presence immediately noticed by Satoshi, who reached out eagerly.

“Papa!” the boy exclaimed, his arms stretching towards his father.

With a warm chuckle, Satoru took Satoshi into his arms, lifting him high into the air. “Having fun, little lordling?” he asked, his voice filled with affection. “You were zooming out there, huh?”

“Yeah!” Satoshi replied enthusiastically. “We were playing chase, and I was winning!”

Satoru laughed, his heart swelling with love. “I’m sure you were. But remember to listen to your nurse-maid, okay? We don’t want any accidents.”

Satoshi nodded solemnly before breaking into giggles again. “I will, Papa.”

As Satoru held his son close, he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. In these moments, the worries of the world faded away, leaving only the pure, unadulterated love between a father and his child. He knew that soon enough, Satoshi would grow older and the realities of their world would become unavoidable. But for now, he was determined to protect this innocence, to ensure that Satoshi's world remained filled with laughter and love for as long as possible.

“Let’s go find Mama,” Satoru said, carrying Satoshi back towards the house. “I’m sure she’s missed you.”

Satoshi's eyes lit up at the mention of you, and he nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Let’s go find Mama!”

The path back to the house was lined with blooming cherry blossoms, their petals gently drifting to the ground with each breeze. Satoru walked with an easy grace, his son nestled securely in his arms. The house, an elegant blend of traditional and modern architecture, stood as a sanctuary amid the chaos of the outside world.

As they approached, the soft hum of your voice reached their ears. You were in the kitchen, preparing a meal, the aroma of freshly cooked rice and simmering soup wafting through the air. Your presence was a constant source of comfort and strength, grounding Satoru in ways he often struggled to articulate.

“Mama!” Satoshi called out excitedly as they entered the kitchen.

You turned, a warm smile spreading across your face as you wiped your hands on a towel. “There’s my little troublemaker,” you said, reaching out to take Satoshi from Satoru’s arms. “Were you having fun in the garden?”

Satoshi nodded vigorously. “Yes, Mama! We played chase, and I was winning!”

You chuckled, kissing his forehead. “I’m sure you were. Did you give the nurse-maid a hard time?”

Satoshi giggled, hiding his face on your shoulder. “Maybe a little.”

Satoru watched the interaction with a tender expression. “He’s full of energy today,” he commented, stepping closer to place a hand on your back. “How are you feeling?”

You glanced up at him, your eyes filled with understanding. “Better, now that you two are here.” You looked back at Satoshi, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Were you good for Papa?”

“Yes, Mama,” Satoshi replied earnestly. “Papa said we should always listen to nurse-maid.”

You smiled, giving Satoru an appreciative look. “That’s right. It’s important to be careful.”

Satoru's gaze softened as he watched you interact with Satoshi. Despite the looming threat of Sukuna, these moments of normalcy and love filled him with a fierce determination to protect his family at all costs.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” you said, turning back to the stove. “Why don’t you two wash up?”

Satoshi wriggled in your arms, eager to comply. “Come on, Papa!” he urged, pulling at Satoru’s hand.

“Alright, alright,” Satoru laughed, letting himself be led towards the bathroom. As he helped Satoshi wash his hands, he marveled at how such simple acts could bring so much joy.

After washing up, they returned to the kitchen where you had set the table. The meal was a humble but hearty spread, the kind that brought warmth and comfort to the soul. Satoru helped Satoshi into his chair before taking his own seat beside you.

As you all sat down to eat, Satoshi’s chatter filled the room, his stories animated and full of wonder. Satoru listened with rapt attention, his heart swelling with pride and love. He reached out to squeeze your hand under the table, a silent promise that he would do everything in his power to keep this happiness intact.

After dinner, you all settled in the living room. Satoshi, full and content, curled up next to you on the couch, his little head resting on your lap. Satoru sat beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the evening light, casting a serene ambiance over the scene.

Satoru looked at you, his cerulean eyes filled with a mixture of love and determination. “We’re going to be okay,” he said softly, his voice steady. “No matter what happens, we’ll face it together.”

You nodded, leaning into his embrace. “Together,” you echoed, your hand resting gently on Satoshi’s back.

“Papa, let’s go!” Satoshi’s eyes sparkled with excitement, his little hand tugging at Satoru’s sleeve.

“Hm? Where, little lordling?” Satoru asked, his voice warm with affection.

“The koi pond!” Satoshi replied eagerly, his enthusiasm infectious.

Satoru looked at you, seeking your opinion. You nodded and offered him a warm smile. “Why not? It’s too nice today and it’s refreshing after a long play, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.” Your husband nodded to you before turning his attention back to your son, his grin widening. “Does my little lordling want to be carried by papa, or is he wanting to be a big boy and walk?”

Satoshi puffed out his chest with pride, his tiny hands clenched into determined fists. “I’ll walk, Papa! I’m a big boy!”

Satoru chuckled, patting Satoshi’s head affectionately. “That’s my boy. Lead the way, then.”

The three of you made your way to the koi pond, the garden bathed in the golden glow of the moonshine The air was filled with the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft chirping of owls settling down for the evening. It was a tranquil scene, a stark contrast to the turbulent world outside your home.

The tranquil scene was framed by vibrant greenery and the soft murmur of a nearby stream. They were watching the koi fish swim lazily in the pond, their colorful scales glinting in the moonlight. Your son was immediately chattering excitedly about something he’d learned, his voice a melodic blend of enthusiasm and curiosity. Satoru listened intently, a fond smile playing on his lips.

Satoshi skipped ahead, his laughter ringing out like a melody. You and Satoru followed at a leisurely pace, hand in hand, savoring the peaceful moment.

As you reached the koi pond, Satoshi knelt by the water's edge, his eyes wide with wonder as he watched the colorful fish swim gracefully. “Look, Papa! The fish are so pretty!”

Satoru crouched beside him, pointing out different koi. “See that one with the golden scales? That’s the king of the pond. And that one over there, with the red spots, is the queen.”

Satoshi’s eyes sparkled with delight as he listened intently to Satoru’s explanations. “Can we feed them, Papa?”

Satoru glanced at you, and you smiled, pulling out a small container of fish food from your pocket. “Here you go, Satoshi. Just a little bit at a time, okay?”

Satoshi nodded eagerly, carefully taking the container from you and sprinkling a small amount of food into the pond. The koi fish swarmed to the surface, their mouths opening and closing as they devoured the food. Satoshi giggled with delight, clapping his hands together.

“Papa, did you know that koi fish can live for over 200 years?” your son exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder.

Satoru nodded, his gaze never leaving your son’s animated face. “Really? That’s amazing, buddy. Imagine all the stories they could tell.”

Your son giggled, the sound pure and joyful. “Maybe they know magic, too!”

Satoru’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Maybe they do. Maybe they’re the guardians of secret underwater realms.”

You and Satoru stood back, watching your son with fond smiles. “He’s growing up so fast.” you murmured, leaning into Satoru’s side. "Almost four already. He's not our baby anymore, hm?"

“He still is, y'know?” Satoru hummed, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “but you're right. Soon, he’s going to grow up strong. Our beautiful boy, he’s always going to be loved, too.”

“This is perfect,” you whispered, leaning your head against Satoru’s shoulder. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart grounded you, reminding you of the strength you found in each other. “This is everything we could ever want.

“It is.” Satoru agreed, his voice low and filled with emotion. “Everything is more than I imagined.”

As the moon echoed below the horizon, casting a warm evening glow over the garden, the three of you stood by the koi pond, savoring the simple joys of family and the promise of a future filled with love and hope. All Gojo Satoru had to do was defeat Sukuna. All he had to do was get this over with. Then all will be over. He’ll get to be with you. He’ll get to be with Satoshi. You could be a family in peace.

Gojo Satoru wouldn’t be the strongest then.

He could just be himself, he could just be this.

He could just be your husband, Satoshi’s father.

He can be a human being for the first time in his life.

“Papa, can we stay here forever?” your son asked suddenly, his eyes wide with innocence. Both of you look at him. “You and mama, can we all be here together?”

Your son's innocent question hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the simplicity of childhood dreams. Satoru's gaze softened as he looked down at your son, his expression a mixture of tenderness and wistfulness. It was a question that held a weight far beyond its years, touching on the deepest desires of the heart.

For a moment, neither of you knew quite how to respond. The idea of staying in this tranquil moment forever, frozen in time with your family by your side, was undeniably tempting. Yet, reality loomed on the horizon, with its uncertainties and responsibilities.

Satoru exchanged a glance with you, silently communicating the depth of his emotions. There was a longing in his eyes, a yearning for a life free from the burdens of duty and danger. But beneath it all, there was a fierce determination to protect what mattered most—your family.

With a gentle smile, you reached out and ruffled your son's hair. "We'll always be together, Satoshi. No matter what happens, we'll find a way to stay together."

Satoru's hand found yours, his grip reassuring and firm. "That's right, little lordling. We'll always be here for you, no matter where life takes us."

Your son's eyes sparkled with happiness at your reassurance, his small hand reaching out to clasp both of yours. "Promise?"

You exchanged a knowing look with Satoru, his expression mirroring your own determination. "Promise," you both said in unison, sealing the vow with a tender smile

The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting gentle shadows across the room as you lay entwined with your husband and son. In the tranquil silence of the night, you could hear the steady rhythm of their breathing, a comforting reminder of the love that bound you together.

Wrapped in the warmth of each other's embrace, you felt a profound sense of contentment wash over you. It was in these quiet moments, surrounded by the ones you held most dear, that you found solace from the chaos of the outside world. Here, in the sanctuary of your shared love, you felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges awaited you.

As you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, a serene smile graced your lips. In the arms of your beloved family, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, you would overcome them with unwavering strength and unwavering love.

“Satoru, my love.” you whispered, your hand entwined with his. “Thank you for being here. For being with us.”

He turned to you, his eyes filled with love. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, darling. You and our son… you’re my everything.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words seep into your heart. “And you’re ours. Always.”

The days turned into weeks, and the time for Satoru’s confrontation with Sukuna drew closer. But instead of being consumed by fear, you found strength in the love that surrounded you. The bond you shared with Satoru, the love you had for your son, and the support of your family gave you the courage to face whatever lay ahead.

On the last evening before Satoru was to leave with you, the three of you all gathered under the stars, the night sky a blanket of twinkling lights above you. Your son sat on Satoru’s lap, his head resting against his father’s chest.

“Papa, will you come back soon?” he asked, his voice small and filled with hope.

Satoru hugged him tightly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ll do everything I can to come back to you, buddy. You and your mama are my entire world. Papa can’t live without any of you.”

Your son nodded, content with his father’s promise. “Me too, papa.”

“Hm?”

“I can’t live without you and mama.” Your son whispers to his father, wiping his father’s tears tenderly. Satoru blinked at his son’s act. “So papa has to do well and come back, with mama?”

In that tender moment, the depth of the bond between father and son was palpable. Satoru's heart swelled with emotion as he gazed into his son's earnest eyes, filled with a love so pure and unconditional it took his breath away. With a lump in his throat, he tightened his embrace, savoring the warmth of his son's small body pressed against his own.

His voice was thick with emotion as he replied, "I promise, buddy. I'll do everything in my power to come back to you and mama. You both mean the world to me, and I can't bear the thought of being without you."

Your son's response was equally heartfelt, his voice soft yet resolute. "I believe in you, papa. We'll be waiting for you, always."

You leaned against Satoru, drawing comfort from his presence. “I love you so much.”

He takes a breath. “I love you too. With everything in me.”

The night was quiet, filled with the gentle sounds of nature and the steady rhythm of your hearts beating in unison. As you closed your eyes, Satoru whispered a silent prayer, to any god listening above. If there ever was one. He prayed.

He wished that he could come home. He wished that he could be with you. He wished that he could watch Satoshi grow up. He wishes for that dream, for that hope, to come true.

That’s what all he could see as he lay there.

Shoko Ieiri looked him in the eyes as he struggled.

He smiles at her and then you, puddle full of tears.

“I love you.” He choked. “You and Satoshi, I love you.”

From faraway Hida, a boy sits by the koi pond and prays.

“I hope that my mama and papa return to good health soon.”

flashback epilogue

The hospital room was cast in a gentle, dim light, creating a serene atmosphere that belied the intensity of the recent events. Satoru sat on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders relaxed yet filled with a quiet strength as he cradled his newborn son, little Gojo Satoshi, against his chest.

With delicate care, he adjusted the soft blankets around little Satoshi, ensuring his newborn son was warm and comfortable. Despite the fatigue evident in his eyes, there was a palpable sense of wonder and tenderness in Satoru's touch as he looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms.

Meanwhile, you lay nearby, your form softened by the relief of finally finding respite after the long and arduous hours of labor. Your face, though etched with exhaustion, held a serene expression, a testament to the profound sense of fulfillment that accompanied the arrival of your precious child.

In that quiet moment, amidst the hushed sounds of the hospital room, the bond between parent and child blossomed, enveloping the room in an aura of warmth and love that seemed to transcend time itself. Satoru couldn’t be happier to carry his whole world in his arms.

Gazing down at the tiny bundle in his arms, Satoru felt a surge of overwhelming love wash over him. With a soft smile, he leaned in close to Satoshi's ear, whispering words of welcome and affection.

"Welcome to the world, my beautiful boy." Satoru murmured, his voice filled with warmth. "D’you know what your name is? What it means?”

The little boy cooed at his father’s words.

Satoru laughed softly, looking at him lovingly.

He was already so attentive towards his father.

“Mama and I decided together, y’know? Your name just had to be Satoshi.” Satoru takes a deep breath, smiling as the baby cooes again. “You’re satisfied, hm? But you’ll like the spelling more, little man.”

Satoru could only feel overwhelmed by what he felt.

He could only feel nothing but joy, nothing but elation.

The dawn was breaking, as it always had before this moment.

But now, where his own dawn was in his hands, he just smiled.

There was a louder coo this time around.

He was more than happy, Satoru thinks.

And he couldn’t be happier than this moment.

This beautiful boy, his darling boy, his dawn.

Satoru pressed a gentle kiss to Satoshi's forehead, marveling at the precious life he held in his arms. "I love you so much, my son," he whispered, his heart overflowing with love and joy at the arrival of their little miracle. “My little dawn.”

475 notes · View notes

songbirdseung · 5 months ago

Text

fatal trouble / nishimura riki

synopsis: after a year-long separation, Y/N is finally reunited with their first love, Ni-ki, at a mutual friend's wedding. everything seems the same on the surface – the setting, the people, the familiar laughter – but Ni-ki’s smile no longer holds the warmth Y/N once knew. his profound eyes, once windows to his soul, now seem guarded and distant.

pairing: ni-ki x reader, past lovers

warnings: emotional distress, separation, break ups, change, lmk if i missed anything

wc: 3.4k

Can't believe, you in front of me Everything is the same

You stand in the middle of the wedding aisle, your hands full of delicate flowers, carefully arranging them along the sides of the path. The scent of roses and lilies fills the air, mingling with the soft melodies of classical music playing in the background. You adjust the ribbon on one of the pews, making sure it is perfectly aligned.

"Need any help with that?"

The familiar voice catches you off guard. You turn, your breath hitching as you see Ni-ki standing there, holding a bundle of decorations. His eyes, deep and expressive, meet yours, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. It has been a year since you last saw each other, but the familiarity between you is undeniable.

"Ni-ki," you breathe, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I didn't know you were going to be here."

"Yeah, I didn't know either. Guess we both got assigned to decoration duty," he replies, his gaze never leaving yours. He takes a step closer, his presence both comforting and overwhelming.

You stand there, in the middle of the aisle, taking in every little detail about each other. Ni-ki's hair is a bit longer than you remember, and there is a new confidence in his stance. Yet, his smile, the way his eyes crinkle at the edges, is just as you recall.

"It's been so long," you say softly, your voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and surprise.

"Too long," Ni-ki agrees, a hint of sadness in his tone. "I can't believe we're meeting again, right here, in front of each other."

You both look around, taking in the decorations, the flowers, the beautiful chaos of wedding preparations. Everything seems the same as it always is at such events, yet there is an unfamiliarity in the air. The distance of a year has brought subtle changes, ones that are now beginning to surface as you stand face to face.

"Everything looks the same," you remark, your eyes scanning the familiar setup.

But you have a different smile Those pro-found eyes

"But you have a different smile," Ni-ki observes, his voice gentle. "It's like… you've changed."

You look into his eyes, searching for the Ni-ki you used to know. There is a depth there, a story untold.

I look beyond them to find you It's unfamiliar, who are you? Where is the one that I love

"And you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "You seem different too. Where's the guy I used to know?"

Ni-ki chuckles softly, a bittersweet sound. "I guess time does that to people. But it's good to see you, really good."

You nod, feeling a mix of emotions you can't quite name. "Yeah, it's good to see you too, Ni-ki."

As you both resume your work, placing flowers and adjusting ribbons, the space between you is filled with unspoken words and lingering glances. The past year has changed you both, but in that moment, standing together in the wedding aisle, it feels like a piece of the past has found its way back into your lives.

Downfall in chaos I'm confused, baby Do I even know you?

As the wedding preparations continue, you find yourself watching Ni-ki from afar. The way he interacts with others, the confident way he carries himself—everything about him seems different, more mature, more refined. You can't help but wonder if this change is real or just a facade he's putting on for the occasion.

During the ceremony, your eyes keep drifting back to him. You notice how he smiles easily, how he engages in conversations with genuine interest. There's a new depth to his laughter, a subtle strength in his demeanor. It's almost as if the boy you once knew has grown into someone entirely new.

But beneath that polished exterior, you can't shake the feeling that there's something he's hiding. Was he putting up a persona for the sake of appearances, or had time truly transformed him? You recall the countless promises you both made to each other, one in particular standing out—the promise that no matter where life took you, you would always remain friends, always be there for each other.

As the evening progresses, you find yourself drifting through the reception, your thoughts consumed by these questions. You watch Ni-ki as he moves through the crowd, laughing and talking with ease. Each time your eyes meet, he gives you a warm smile, but you can't help but notice a flicker of something else in his eyes—something unreadable.

What has changed? Please answer me Am I wrong?

During a quiet moment, you step outside to get some fresh air. The cool night breeze feels refreshing against your skin, and you take a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. The distant sound of music and laughter from the reception hall drifts to your ears, a stark contrast to the turmoil of your thoughts.

"Hey."

You turn to see Ni-ki standing there, his hands in his pockets, his expression softer than before. He walks over to you, his presence once again comforting and overwhelming.

"Needed a break?" he asks, leaning against the railing beside you.

"Yeah," you admit, glancing at him. "Just needed a moment to clear my head."

He nods, looking out into the distance. "I get that. Weddings can be a lot."

There's a moment of silence, and then you decide to voice the question that's been gnawing at you all day. "Ni-ki, have you… changed?"

He looks at you, his eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. "In what way?"

"I mean," you begin, choosing your words carefully, "you seem different. More grown-up, more… distant. I can't tell if it's just me or if you've really changed."

Ni-ki sighs, his gaze dropping to the ground. "A lot has happened over the past year. I've had to grow up in ways I didn't expect. But I'm still me, Y/N. I'm still the same person who made those promises to you."

"Have you forgotten them?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "No, I haven't forgotten. But sometimes, life gets in the way, and we end up becoming versions of ourselves that we never anticipated."

You look at him, searching his face for any signs of the boy you once knew. And then, in a quiet voice, you say, "I missed you, Ni-ki."

He reaches out, taking your hand in his. "I missed you too, Y/N. More than you know."

As you stand there, holding hands under the night sky, you realize that no matter how much time has passed or how much you've both changed, the connection you share is still there. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough to bridge the gap between the past and the present.

Fatal trouble It's getting blurry Your memory It's falling apart

You wake up with a start, the vivid memory of the wedding and your conversation with Ni-ki lingering in your mind. As your eyes adjust to the morning light filtering through your curtains, you take in the familiar surroundings of your room. Your heart still pounds from the intensity of the dream, and for a moment, you struggle to separate reality from fantasy.

Sitting up, you glance around, seeking confirmation. The dress you wore to the wedding is draped over the back of a chair, and the bouquet of flowers you caught sits in a vase on your nightstand, the petals slightly wilted from the night's festivities. It's all real—you did attend the wedding.

But the moment you shared with Ni-ki outside the venue, the heartfelt conversation under the night sky—that was all in your head. The realization leaves you feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. You hadn't had the chance to ask him those burning questions or to see if he really had changed in the way your dream suggested.

You let out a sigh, running a hand through your hair as you try to shake off the remnants of the dream. It had felt so real, the emotions so raw and tangible. You wonder if your subconscious is trying to tell you something, urging you to reach out to Ni-ki, to bridge the gap that time has created.

Deciding to get out of bed, you head to the kitchen for a glass of water. The cool liquid soothes your parched throat and helps ground you in the present. As you stand there, you can't help but replay the dream in your mind, the conversation echoing in your thoughts.

"Good morning."

You turn to see your roommate, still in her pajamas, giving you a curious look. "You were tossing and turning all night. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," you reply, forcing a smile. "Just had a weird dream, that's all."

"About the wedding?" she asks, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

You nod. "Yeah, something like that."

As you both settle into your morning routine, you decide to check your phone. There are a few messages from friends and family, but one notification stands out—a message from Ni-ki. Your heart skips a beat as you open it.

"Hey Y/N, it was really nice seeing you at the wedding yesterday. Sorry we didn't get a chance to talk much. Maybe we can catch up soon?"

A small smile forms on your lips. Maybe your dream was more than just a figment of your imagination. Maybe it was a sign that it’s time to reconnect and find out for yourself how much has really changed.

You quickly type out a reply, your fingers trembling slightly. "Hey Ni-ki, it was great seeing you too. I'd love to catch up. Let me know when you're free."

As you hit send, a sense of anticipation fills you. The dream might have been just that—a dream—but the chance to rekindle an old friendship is very much real. And this time, you're determined to make the most of it.

Fatal trouble My heart Long-held trust Thеy're coming undone

Later that afternoon, you find yourself sitting at your desk, staring out the window. The events of the previous night and the vivid dream still weigh heavily on your mind. You decide to take a trip down memory lane, hoping to reconnect with the past and recall the moments you shared with Ni-ki.

You open an old photo album, the edges worn from years of use. Flipping through the pages, you see pictures of school events, birthday parties, and casual hangouts. There you are, standing next to Ni-ki, both of you grinning widely at the camera. The images bring a rush of nostalgia, but when you try to focus on specific memories, they start to blur.

You close your eyes, attempting to visualize the past more clearly. You remember the sound of Ni-ki's laughter, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, and the countless inside jokes you shared. But the harder you try to grasp onto a particular moment, the more it slips away, like sand through your fingers.

You remember a sunny afternoon at the park, the two of you lying on the grass and talking about your dreams for the future. You can see the vibrant green of the trees and feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, but Ni-ki’s face is hazy, his voice indistinct. It’s as if the details are just out of reach, hidden behind a veil of time.

Another memory surfaces—walking home from school together, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink. You recall the sense of companionship and the comforting silence between you, but the conversation you had remains elusive, the words lost to the years that have passed.

Frustrated, you close the album and rest your head in your hands. Why is it so hard to remember? You wonder if it’s the passage of time or the emotional distance that has created this fog over your memories. The essence of your friendship with Ni-ki is still there, but the specifics are slipping away, leaving you with a sense of loss.

Determined not to let these memories fade completely, you decide to write down what you can remember, no matter how fragmented. You grab a notebook and start jotting down snippets—Ni-ki’s smile when he beat you at video games, the way he always knew how to cheer you up, the afternoons spent at the local café talking about everything and nothing.

As you write, you realize that while the memories might be blurry, the feelings associated with them remain strong. The sense of belonging, the joy of shared experiences, and the bond you once had with Ni-ki are still clear in your heart. And maybe, just maybe, reconnecting with him now will help bring those memories back into focus, allowing you to create new ones together.

I barely managed to guard you I don't want to lose you But anxiety looms over me

Ni-ki sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the open closet in front of him. Clothes are strewn about as he tries to decide what to wear for his upcoming meeting with you. It's been a year since he last saw you, and the thought of seeing you again fills him with a mix of excitement and dread. He finally picks out a simple outfit, hoping it will make a good impression without seeming too overthought.

As he buttons his shirt, his mind drifts back to the past. He thinks about the times he could have been there for you but wasn’t. The missed calls, the unanswered messages, the moments when you needed a friend and he was too caught up in his own world to notice. Guilt gnaws at him, a constant reminder of how he failed you.

He looks at himself in the mirror, his reflection showing a man who has changed, yet is still haunted by his past mistakes. "I can't let this chance slip away," he mutters to himself, his voice echoing in the quiet room. The thought of losing you again, of repeating the same mistakes, terrifies him. But the fear of history repeating itself is just as strong, if not stronger.

Ni-ki takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He knows that over the past year, he's grown and matured. He's learned to be more present, to prioritize the people who matter. But doubt still lingers. What if you can’t see the changes he’s made? What if the memories of his past failures overshadow any progress he's achieved?

It's certainly blurred I don't know what to do

He sits back down on his bed, his mind swirling with a torrent of emotions. He remembers your laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you were happy, and the countless moments you shared. Those memories are a double-edged sword—they remind him of the bond you once had, but they also highlight the times he let you down.

“I won’t mess this up again,” he whispers, a note of determination in his voice. He knows he has to prove to you—and to himself—that he's different now. He wants to show you that he can be the friend you need, the friend you deserve.

As he laces up his shoes, Ni-ki's phone buzzes with a message from you, letting him know you're on your way to the café. His heart skips a beat. This is it, the moment he's been both anticipating and dreading. He can't afford to let fear dictate his actions. He has to seize this opportunity to make things right.

With one last look in the mirror, Ni-ki straightens his shirt and grabs his jacket. "You can do this," he tells himself, steeling his resolve. "Don't let the past control your future."

He heads out the door, each step filled with a mix of hope and anxiety. He knows this meeting is his chance to start fresh, to show you the Ni-ki he has become. And as he walks towards the café, he silently vows not to let history repeat itself. He won’t fail you again. Not this time.

Surely, there's only one you So now, I'll leave everything behind I'll follow my heartbeat

As Ni-ki steps into the café, his eyes search for you among the crowd. And there you are, sitting at a table near the window, a warm smile lighting up your face as you spot him. Relief floods through him at the sight of you, dispelling some of the nervous tension that had been building inside him.

He approaches your table, a tentative smile playing on his lips. "Hey," he says softly, his voice tinged with both excitement and apprehension.

"Hey," you reply, your smile widening as he takes a seat across from you. "It's been too long."

Ni-ki nods, feeling a lump form in his throat. "Yeah, it has," he agrees, his gaze briefly dropping to the table. "I'm sorry for… for everything."

You reach across the table, placing a reassuring hand on his. "It's okay," you say gently. "We both made mistakes. What matters is that we're here now, ready to move forward."

His heart swells with gratitude at your forgiveness, and he squeezes your hand in return. "Thank you," he murmurs, meeting your gaze with sincerity. "I've missed you."

The two of you fall into easy conversation, catching up on everything that's happened since you last saw each other. Ni-ki listens intently as you share stories about your life, your successes, and your struggles. He marvels at the strength and resilience you possess, amazed by the person you've become.

As the afternoon wears on, Ni-ki finds himself opening up to you in a way he hasn't in a long time. He tells you about the changes he's made in his life, the lessons he's learned, and the person he aspires to be. And with each word, he feels a weight lifting off his shoulders, a sense of liberation washing over him.

As the conversation comes to a close, Ni-ki realizes just how much he's missed having you in his life. He's grateful for this chance to reconnect, to rebuild the bond that once held you together. And as he looks into your eyes, he knows with certainty that he never wants to lose you again.

"Thank you for today," he says, a genuine smile gracing his lips. "I needed this more than you know."

You return his smile, warmth radiating from your gaze. "Anytime," you reply, your voice filled with sincerity. "You're always welcome here."

Ni-ki feels a sense of peace settle over him as he stands to leave the café. He knows that the road ahead won't always be easy, but with you by his side, he's confident that he can face whatever challenges come his way.

As he walks away from the café, a single thought echoes in his mind, filling him with a sense of hope and possibility.

"Surely, there's only one you."

As Ni-ki walks away from the café, you watch him go, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. Seeing him again after so long brought back a flood of memories, both good and bad. But as you sit there, reflecting on your conversation, you realize that despite everything that's happened, nothing has truly changed between you.

You remember the laughter, the late-night conversations, the moments of shared joy and sadness. Those memories are still as vivid as ever, a testament to the bond you share with Ni-ki. And as you think about the person he's become, you feel a sense of pride and admiration.

You know that Ni-ki has made mistakes in the past, just like you have. But today, sitting across from him, you saw a different side of him—a side that's grown and matured, a side that's ready to move forward. And as you watch him walk into the sunset, you can't help but feel hopeful for the future.

With a renewed sense of optimism, you stand up from the table and begin to make your way home. The weight of the past feels a little lighter now, replaced by a sense of possibility and potential. And as you walk, you know that no matter what challenges may come your way, you'll face them together.

Because deep down, you know that nothing has truly changed between you and Ni-ki. The bond you share is as strong as ever, and together, you can conquer anything that comes your way.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #engene #enha #enhypen x reader #ni ki #nishimura riki #riki nishimura #ni ki imagines #ni ki x reader #ni ki enhypen #ni ki fluff #niki nishimura #riki nishimura x reader #riki enhypen #riki x reader #riki fluff #enhypen niki

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johnwickb1tsch · 5 months ago

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 35 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

Winston’s solution essentially turns into a waiting game.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, because whether he thinks or not, you know John needs time to heal his injuries before you face a sitdown with the High Table, the brat prince, and the top bosses of the Camorra, none of which are exactly eager to convene at a mutual time for the sake of John Wick–and you? You still don’t know what to think about this strange world John Wick has plunged you into.

Even though you would supposedly be safe on hotel grounds, of course John doesn’t want to let you out of his sight. He rarely wants to leave the room either; you sense this is not just because he’s healing. The thought of wandering around here fills you with equal parts anticipation and dread. Maybe you both have caught a touch of agoraphobia, living your secluded little life in the mountains together. Gone are the days in which you flounced about the house in your designer sundresses with paint on your fingers and no panties to your name. If only you could have known at the time, how idyllic those precious moments had been.

Or maybe your recent trauma has skewed your memory of it all.

It still feels strange, speaking to anyone but John, even when you’re just calling in your orders for room service.

You sleep a lot, tangled together in the cloud-soft bed. Sometimes you watch TV or read, and sometimes you just lay there, and at least on your part, marvel that you’re not dead.

You both have nightmares about the night the Camorra soldiers infiltrated your home. You relive the moment in which you’d nearly lost John, the knife wielding commando trying to stab him again and again in a replaying reel in your mind. In your dreams you cannot lift the gun to save him, or your every shot misses. The scene of John’s terrors seems to go a step further, and you know he has dreamed that they made it past him, up the stairs to you, when he wakes you with clutching arms and desperate kisses on your hair, as though he is assuring himself of your wellbeing.

One morning, he wakes you a different way, with his cock stuffing you full from behind and slow kisses on your neck, his strong arms wrapped around you. Up until this point you’ve avoided such things, scolding him that he’ll pull his stitches [again], and for once he actually listened to you. No more, it seems, and you cannot suppress a moan as he thrusts lazily up inside you with his hand on your breast. “John…”

“Mmmm. I need you, baby,” he whispers into your hair, flipping you on your belly with his solid weight pressing you deliciously down into the mattress. “Need to feel you.”

“Your stitches–”

“Will be fine,” he interjects, and you can tell his patience has run short for you worrying about it. You don’t mean to be a nag, and you know he’s endured worse–you just don’t want him to have to be in unnecessary pain, again. You realize you would put this man in a bubble, if you could, he is so precious to you. It’s essentially what he tried to do to you, and see how that worked out?

“Please?” It’s the pure need in that last word that melts your last thought of resisting, and maybe, the fact that he actually asked. You realize you have not properly made love, have not felt him inside you since your primal chase turned borderline hate fuck in the woods, what feels like a lifetime ago. He thrusts again, his hips pressed into the curve of your bottom, and you feel your coherent thoughts evaporate into lust. You cant your hips just the way you know will tighten your hole and drive him wild; a ragged moan from behind you is your reward.

“Temptress,” he grumbles, though you can tell he is smiling. “Trying to make me cum already?” His next thrust is a little too deep, but you take the punishment, only wincing slightly as you hide your grin in the pillow.

“Would I do that?” You sit up on elbows so you can look at him over your shoulder, your heart so filled with love you fear it might burst. He brushes your hair out of your face with tender fingers, a fire in those dark eyes all for you. In this love-charged lull he seems to change his mind about positions, withdrawing only long enough to flip you over before burying himself inside you again.

Of all the ways John Wick has taught you how to make love, this is still your favorite; simple, vanilla missionary with his delicious weight on you, heart to heart with his mouth locked to yours. Something about almost dying together makes it even more intense for the both of you. When he draws back to look into your eyes while he wrecks you? It’s almost too much–too raw, too visceral.

Too vulnerable.

A part of you just wants to flee.

“I love you,” he tells you between thrusts, one of your legs folded nearly to your chest, the other locked around his hip to hold him deeper. “I need you.”

“You’ve got me. I love you, John, you’ve got me.”

There’s no room for higher cognition, in this gasping, bone-melting exchange of pleasure and bodily fluids. There is only the ability to speak the truth from the heart, and the breathless pursuit of release, together. It hits you both like a freight train, almost painful in all its ferocity–there’s no way in hell they don’t hear you next door, and maybe down the hall.

You’re going to get into trouble.

The absurdity of the thought makes you smile as much as John rearranging your insides. Sweaty and breathless, you stay locked together for what feels like a long time, neither willing to let go. Naturally its John who recovers first, catching your mouth in a deep kiss that curls your toes all over again. “Shower with me?”

“Yes.”

***

“Can we take Dog outside?” you ask during breakfast, the gentle beast in question leaning against your leg in pursuit of pets–and bacon. “I think he’s bored, walking the halls.” There was a pee pad for him on the roof–it was not the same, as touching paws to real grass.

Once, John might have gotten mad that you would even suggest it. You think its a testament to improval, when he just sighs at you. “You know the answer to that, sweetheart.”

It’s too dangerous.

You sigh too.

As magnificent as The Continental was…it was starting to feel like you were going to be locked up there forever.

“Is this a hint that you are bored?”

You consider this question, stirring sugar into your second cup of coffee. It does feel a bit like the two of you are stuck in purgatory, waiting. “Maybe I’m feeling a little cooped up,” you admit. “But the wake up calls here are spectacular…” You grin at him over your mug, and see your comment has the intended placating effect, the corner of his mouth pulling in a small smile, a flash of heat in his dark eyes that makes you clench between your crossed legs.

“I might have a solution for that.” Again, it’s like he’s asking, and he could have pushed you over with a feather. Have you arrived? Even with the sword of Damocles hanging overhead, just waiting for the moment you might set foot outside this hotel, this is the thing that starts to make you feel like everything might be alright someday.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to do some work with the Personal Trainer while we’re here. She’s very good.”

Everything is cloaked in double meaning in this place. Somehow, you suspect the title doesn’t mean this woman will yell at you to do five more sit-ups. “You…want me to lift weights?” you ask cheekily, waiting.

“I want you to learn how to kill a man with your bare hands,” he tells you bluntly. “If you have to.”

You choke a little on your coffee at that. Point: John.

“Jeesus.”

“You’ve seen the truth of my world. Even though I’m retired…it just keeps fucking following me. That means…you’re in danger too. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You’ve always thought you were a nice person, but as it turns out your moral fiber must be fairly flexible–at least, for this man. Back at the coffee shop, you’d known he’d murdered those creeps in the van, and you’d done nothing. You’d shot a man to save him without a second thought. Now he wanted you to learn how to kill–and you were perfectly willing.

A part of you wants to caution him, that you will never be as dangerous as the lowliest clown in this vicious world of thieves and killers. But in the end, you keep it to yourself. He wants to train you out of hope, and you don’t want to take that chance for some peace of mind from him. And, of course…maybe it will save your ass someday.

You’re in no hurry to die.

You can see he is troubled, brooding over the danger he’s put you in. You know the dark spiral that can lead him down, and you offer him a lifeline. “John…even if I’d known, in the beginning, about who you are and the risk…I still would have followed you anywhere.”

It’s the truth. He wouldn’t have even had to kidnap you. You keep that to yourself too.

He weighs you with those dark eyes–once upon a time, that penetrating look might have made you squirm. But maybe there’s a freedom now, in having traveled through the darkest labyrinths of his mind–and come out in one piece on the other side. You just meet that gaze, letting it wash over you, and in the end it’s he who looks away.

“I actually believe you now, you know.”

You manage not to grin like a fucking idiot, even if it’s how you feel inside. Utterly unable to remain in your own seat after that, you slide into his lap, pressing your lips to his cheek, the side of his mouth, then lingeringly, his lips. You snuggle like that in the chair for several minutes, just holding each other, and not to be left out, dog shifts to lay on John’s feet.

“John…” you say quietly, not wanting to break the spell that’s fallen over the room. “What if…we just ran away together?”

He raises an eyebrow to that, and you get the feeling that the option maybe hadn’t even occurred to him. He’s so accustomed to charging at his problems head first, guns blazing and fists flying–and usually that works out for him… Not so much, for the people around him, though.

“Where would you want to go?” he asks, his lips against your temple.

“I don’t know. Where could we go? Does anyone want you dead in South America?”

He’s quiet as he thinks about it. “...Maybe not?”

“We could…get new identities, and…move to Buenos Aires.”

He blows through his nose as this, but you can tell he’s amused. “What is it with you and Argentina?”

“It sounds like a great place to go,” you reason. “The Paris of South America. Good food. Culture. Architecture. Adventure… And they sleep in until like, 11 o’clock in the morning, it’s awesome.”

He does laugh at this. “And I thought you were such an early bird, working at the coffee shop?”

“I’ve come to find waking up early is overrated.”

His chest quakes with mirth beneath you, and you reckon that even if he’s not taking your suggestion seriously, at least he’s amused, and that is good for morale.

“So…when do I start with The Trainer?” John peers at his watch around your body.

“In an hour.”

“Fuck. Were you going to tell me?”

He chuckles at this. “The less time for you to worry about it, the better.”

“Why?” Now you are worried. “What is she going to do to me?”

“She’s not going to beat you up,” he’s quick to assure you. “I’m not putting you through real assassin school. But…I want you to take it seriously. Please? For me?”

Well…fuck a duck.

“Ok, I will,” you promise him, wondering what you’re about to get into.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #john wick x y/n #yandere john wick #keanu reeves #bittersweet coffee shop au

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thelovehypothesis · 20 days ago

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Part 2.1 : Between the Pit Walls and the Heartbreak - 1 | 43

part 1

ex!Franco Colapinto x fem-engineer!reader x Max Verstappen

+3k words

a/n’s: again full credit to @afterglowsainz go read their fic “don't smile” its amazing, and this is the long awaited part 2 on my take of their fic! BUT here is and alternate ending... Part 2.2

warnings: angst-fluff (debatable happy ending)

Summary: Two three hearts, one racetrack, and a love that no team can control. When love collides with ambition, can they find a way back to each or to another?

Racing Ahead (qatar grand prix 2025)

It had been nearly a year since you walked away from Franco, since you’d chosen your career and dreams over the love you once thought would last forever. Life had changed in ways you could never have imagined. The moment you accepted the position at Red Bull, everything shifted. The high-intensity world of being Max Verstappen’s race engineer consumed you, leaving little room for reflection, which was how you preferred it.

“Y/N, we’re ready,” Max’s voice crackled through your headset, pulling you back to the present.

“Copy that,” you replied, all business again. “Let’s nail this one, Max.”

He looked different—older, somehow, more serious. But that same magnetic energy was still there, the pull between you undeniable, even from a distance.

Franco was back in the paddock as a reset driver for Williams and Mercedes in the 2025 season. It was bittersweet seeing him there, a constant reminder of the past and what you had left behind. His presence felt heavy, especially to him when he noticed the subtle moments between you and Max. The way Max’s eyes would linger on you during quick debriefs or the soft smirk on his lips after a race made it clear he was interested. Franco noticed everything, and it was as if the air between you and him thickened each time you were near.

“Y/N,” he called out, his voice soft but urgent.

You froze, torn between walking away and confronting the emotions you had buried. Slowly, you turned to face him.

“Franco,” you said, your voice steady though your heart was racing.

He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain your composure. “I work here now. This is my job.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve been following you this season. You’re doing incredible things.”

There was a brief silence, filled with all the words you both wanted to say but couldn’t. Finally, Franco spoke again, his voice laced with regret. “I’ve thought about you a lot. About us.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your emotions in check. “Franco, that part of my life is over. I made my choice.”

“I know you did,” he said, his voice strained. “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. It never has.”

You shook your head, the familiar ache returning to your chest. “Franco, you can’t just say things like that. You can’t—”

“I still love you,” he interrupted, his eyes burning with intensity. “I never stopped.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you were speechless. You spent months trying to move on, trying to forget him, but hearing him say those words stirred up feelings you thought you’d buried.

“I know I hurt you,” he continued, stepping closer. “And I know it’s too late to fix things. But I had to tell you. I had to try.”

You stared at him, torn between the past and the present. Part of you wanted to run back to him, to fall into his arms and forget everything that had happened. But the stronger part of you knew that things could never go back to the way they were.

“I can’t, Franco,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’ve built something here.”

His face fell, and he nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “I understand. I just… I had to see you. To tell you how I feel.”

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I’m glad you told me. But we’re on different paths now.”

He took a step back, his hands clenched at his sides, and for a moment, you thought he might try to say more. But instead, he just nodded again, resigned. “Take care, Y/N.”

You watched as he turned and walked away, your heart heavy but resolute. You had made your choice, and there was no turning back now.

As you stood there, alone in the paddock, the sounds of the race weekend buzzing around you, you took a deep breath. The pain was still there, but so was the certainty. You had chosen yourself and your future. In this moment, that was enough.

Turning back toward the Red Bull hospitality, you squared your shoulders, ready to face whatever came next. You were here for a reason, and no matter what ghosts from the past lingered, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

The next day after the race, as if pulled by some invisible force, you found yourself near the Williams hospitality and crossed paths with Franco again. His eyes held a certain determination, as if something had been left unsaid. You didn’t plan on stopping, but you did.

“I just need to tell you one last thing,” he said. His voice was soft but strained, like he’d been carrying the weight of these words for too long.

You hesitated, unsure, but standing there, looking at him, you knew you wanted to hear what he wanted to say. You exhaled, already knowing this wasn’t going to be easy.

There was a pause, a moment of silence where the two of you just stood there, the air thick with everything unsaid. Finally, he broke it.

“I see the way Max looks at you,” he began, his gaze flickering to the ground for a moment before meeting yours. There was an edge to his words, the mention of Max hanging between you like a challenge. You met his gaze, unflinching.

“It's..It’s obvious. And I don’t think it’s fair. You won’t give me another chance, but… you’re giving him one?”

The accusation hung in the air between you, but it wasn’t anger or bitterness that hit you—it was sadness, the echo of what you both once had.

You shook your head slowly, the corners of your lips lifting in a bittersweet smile. “Max trusts me, Franco. You didn’t.” There was another big pause between you two.

His expression faltered, the words sinking into the space between you. It wasn’t just a statement—it was the truth of why things had fallen apart.

“You know…I’ve moved on,” you said, though the words felt heavy in your chest. “You should too.”

Franco’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something—regret, jealousy, maybe both. He took a breath, stepping closer.

He looked at you as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “So it is because of Max?” he asked, his voice tight. “He’s the reason you’re saying this?”

You shook your head, exasperated. “This isn’t about Max. It’s about me. I’ve found my place here, Franco. I’ve built something on my own. I’m happy.”

Franco stepped forward, close enough that you could see the pain in his eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

You hesitated, and for a moment, you felt the urge to reach out to him, to pull him close and tell him that everything would be okay. But you didn’t. Instead, you took a deep breath and stood your ground.

“Yes, I do.”

He stared at you for a long time, his expression shifting from hurt to acceptance. Finally, he nodded, stepping back. “I guess I always knew I’d lost you the moment I walked away.”

There was a pause, and then, almost in a whisper, he added, “I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything.”

You felt the tightness in your chest ease, the weight of the past lifting, even if just a little. “I know,” you replied softly. “But we can’t go back.”

Franco gave you one last look, a look that said everything he couldn’t put into words. You leaned in and kissed his cheek, a gentle goodbye to the memories you shared, and turned to leave.

As you walked out of the paddock, the sense of closure settled over you. It was done. The past no longer had a hold on you. You had said your goodbyes, finally and fully.

Max was waiting outside, leaning casually against his car. When he saw you, he opened the door and gestured for you to get in without saying a word. The moment you sat down, he reached over and took your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your skin.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice calm, yet filled with concern.

You nodded, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah. Everything’s fine now.” And for the first time in a long time, you truly believed it. The weight of the past no longer held you down. You were moving forward, and whatever the future held—whether it was with Max, racing, or something else entirely—you knew you were ready for it.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet, but Max never let go of your hand. He didn’t need to say anything more—his presence was enough. You leaned back in the seat, feeling a sense of peace wash over you for the first time in what felt like forever.

You knew things were going to change. But for now, you allowed yourself to just be in this moment, feeling safe and understood beside him.

The new, the better (abu dhabi grand prix)

The Grand Prix was electric, charged with tension, adrenaline, and the weight of the championship. Max was on the verge of winning his fifth world title, and every single decision you made felt like it could either make or break his season. The entire paddock was watching. The stakes had never been higher (for you(maybe), cause well the 2021 season happened).

As the race unfolded, your nerves buzzed with anticipation. Max had been flawless, pushing the car to its limits, but on the final lap, a risky opportunity presented itself—one that could either win the championship or lose it. You had seconds to decide. Your heart pounded as you called it.

"Box Box, Max. Trust me on this."

There was a brief pause on the radio, but Max’s voice came through steady and confident. “Copy. I trust you.”

And that was it. He trusted you, completely. He always had.

As Max took the gamble and crossed the finish line first, securing his fifth world championship, the entire Red Bull team erupted into cheers. The pit wall exploded in celebration, and you stood there, momentarily frozen, barely able to believe what had just happened. Max had done it. You had done it. Together.

Before you could even process the victory, Max pulled his car into the pit lane, the roar of the crowd filling the air. As he climbed out, he ripped off his helmet and, without a second thought, sprinted toward you. Your breath caught in your throat as he reached you.

His eyes, wild with excitement and joy, locked onto yours, and before you could say anything, Max was pulling you into his arms, kissing you deeply. The world around you fell away—there was no paddock, no crowd, no cameras—just the warmth of his lips on yours, the passion in his embrace, and the weight of the moment between you.

For a split second, time froze. Everything you’d been holding back, all the tension, the unspoken feelings, rushed to the surface. Max kissed you like he’d been waiting forever for this moment, and the way he held you, like you were the only person in the world, left you breathless.

When he finally pulled back, you were both panting, stunned by the intensity of it all. Max’s hand lingered on your waist, his forehead resting against yours as the crowd roared in the background. He grinned, his face flushed from the race and the kiss, and whispered, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

You could barely process it, but before you could respond, your eyes drifted to the side where Franco stood, watching the entire scene unfold. His face was a storm of emotions—jealousy, anger, heartbreak all at once. He looked away, and for a moment, the past tugged at you. But it wasn’t enough to hold you back anymore.

Later, after the race, you found yourself alone with Max in the team’s motorhome, away from the cameras, the chaos, and the noise. The atmosphere was thick with the unspoken. You sat across from him, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, but there was also a newfound calm between you two—a sense of inevitability.

“You really didn’t have to kiss me like that,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. But your voice trembled slightly, betraying just how much the moment had affected you.

Max leaned back, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I figured it was the right time.”

You blushed, your heart fluttering as his words sank in. You’d always known Max was bold, but this… this was different. “So… what now? Red Bull doesn’t exactly encourage relationships between team members.”

He smiled, a slow, confident grin that made your heart skip a beat. “Actually, they don’t mind, as long as we don’t let it affect our work. And we work pretty well together, don’t we?”

You met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the victory. It was more than that. It was the trust, the bond that had been quietly building between you two for months. “You really think this can work?”

Max leaned forward, his eyes soft but sure. “I think we should give it a shot. See where it goes. No pressure, just you and me.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of the past year lifting slightly from your shoulders. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you had control over your life, over what you wanted. And maybe, just maybe, this was something you were ready to explore.

“Okay,” you said softly, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. “Let’s see where it goes.”

Winter break and the next season all became a delicate dance between work and something more. Max was still the fierce, competitive driver you admired, but there was a softness to him now, especially when it came to you. At work, you were still the same duo—focused, driven, unstoppable—but away from the track, things were different. The playful banter that had once been strictly professional became more personal. You found yourself opening up to Max in ways you hadn’t with anyone else in a long time, and the connection between you two deepened with each passing day.

Franco remained a constant presence in the paddock as he got a seat for the 2026 season, a reminder of the past you’d left behind. There were moments when his gaze lingered on you and Max, moments when you could see the regret in his eyes. But that chapter of your life had closed, and it was time for something new.

Max didn’t push you for more, but he made it clear he was all in. He was patient, understanding, and above all, he trusted you. It was that trust, more than anything, that made you realise how different this was. Max believed in you, in the decisions you made, both on and off the track. He never questioned you, never made you doubt yourself. And in return, you found yourself falling for him, slowly but surely.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling race weekend, you and Max were sitting in his hotel room, the city lights of whatever country you were in glowing softly through the windows. Max had his arm wrapped around you, and you were leaning into him, both of you exhausted but content.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the quiet vulnerability in his voice. “Really? Even after winning five world championships?”

He smiled down at you, his eyes softening. “Yeah, even after that. This—being with you—it feels right.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you realised in that moment that you felt the same way. It wasn’t just about the thrill of the races or the adrenaline of being part of something bigger than yourself. It was about Max, about the way he made you feel grounded and safe in a world that was constantly in motion.

For the first time in a long time, you were happy. Truly, deeply happy.

And as the season went on, that happiness grew. You and Max navigated the challenges of working together in such a high-stakes environment, but you also grew closer in ways you never imagined. There were quiet moments, stolen glances, and late-night conversations that made you realise how much Max meant to you.

The rest of the paddock eventually got used to the idea of you and Max as a couple, and while there were still whispers and raised eyebrows, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that you had found something real, something worth holding onto.

By the end of the season, you were no longer just Max’s race engineer—you were his partner, in every sense of the word. And as you looked toward the future, you knew that whatever came next, you and Max would face it together, stronger than ever

---The end---

I'am really happy with the outcome! hope you are too.

Once again my request are open for all your request!

-lots of love, Em.

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