#things you to do remind yourself you are not crazy

[animamii]

Part deux of Toji's Valentine's Surprise

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Your body locks up. Your breath stills. Toji—in the flesh—is standing in your living room, looking smug as hell, arms crossed over that broad chest like he knew he just rocked your entire world.

"You should see your face, princess," he chuckles, tilting his head. "Like you seen a ghost."

Your mind is racing. He’s supposed to be locked up. This is impossible. And yet—he’s here. Solid. Tangible. Real. Smirking at you like he didn’t just pull off the stunt of the century.

"You—" You inhale sharply, fists clenching at your sides. "How—" You don’t even finish the question before you smack his chest, hard enough to make your palm sting. He doesn’t even flinch, just grins like he enjoys the reaction.

"Miss me, baby?" His voice drops, smooth and teasing. Still the cocky bastard he's always been.

"Are you insane?" Your voice comes out breathless, uneven. "You’re supposed to be—"

Toji hums, unfazed. "Supposed to be what?" He steps closer, looming over you with that tantalizing smirk he always adorns. his presence thick and heavy—dangerous and intoxicating. "Locked up? Far away from my girl? Mmm, nah. That was never gonna last."

His girl. That shouldn’t make your stomach flip the way it does. Especially after all this time, but it does.

"You’re reckless," you breathe out, but your voice betrays you—too soft, too shaky. You forgot just how little he made you feel, like a little lamb standing in front of the big bad wolf.

"Yeah?" He reaches out, fingers brushing along your jaw, tilting your chin up. "And yet here I am, standing in front of you. Right where I belong." You swallow hard, heart hammering against your chest. His thumb traces your bottom lip, a touch so familiar, so effortlessly possessive, it makes your knees weak.

"Say it," he murmurs, eyes hooded. "Say you missed me."

You hate how easy it is for him to unravel you. How he knows you did. Toji leans in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "Or do I gotta remind you how bad you missed me?"

Your breath catches. You should shove him away. Should demand answers. Should do anything other than what you do next—fisting his shirt and yanking him down into a teeth clashing kiss.

Toji chuckles against your lips, the sound low and deep, like he expected this reaction all along. His hands—warm, calloused, and oh so familiar—find your waist, pulling you flush against him. It’s been too long, and your body betrays you, melting into his touch as if he never left.

"You’re crazy," you whisper, looking up at him with those wide eyes that he's always loved.

He grins, lips ghosting over your jaw before pressing a slow, lingering kiss just below your ear. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."

Your fingers tighten around his shirt, the fabric bunching between your fists. "It is," you hiss, but your body betrays you, tilting toward him when he moves. "You—Toji, you broke out—do you have any idea—"

"Shhh." He silences you with another kiss, deeper this time, his grip tightening around your waist. "We can talk later."

You should be more worried. Should push him away, demand answers, tell him this is reckless and insane. But the moment his hands slip lower, gripping your thighs and lifting you effortlessly, you’re wrapping yourself around him, letting him carry you to the bedroom like you knew this was how tonight would end. It was Valentine's Day after all.

Toji kicks the door shut behind him, smirking down at you as he lays you on the bed. His eyes—sharp, dark, hungry—roam over you like he’s memorizing every inch all over again.

"Missed you," he mutters, voice rough, as his hands slide up your thighs, pushing that silky dress higher.

You swallow, lips parted as you try to catch your breath. "You’re insane," you whisper again, but it comes out weaker this time, more breathless.

Toji smirks, dipping his head until his lips brush against yours again. "And yet," he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and something darker, "you’re still here. Wrapped around me like you never want me to leave."

You shudder. "I hate you."

He laughs, a quiet, knowing sound, before pressing his lips to your throat. "Liar."

Your breath stutters when his lips drag down the column of your throat, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment. Like he knows he has all the time in the world. His grip tightens on your thighs, his body pressed between them, and it’s infuriating—the way he’s taking his time, the way he’s acting like he never left. Like he never spent months locked up, sending you teasing, filthy little letters to remind you he still owned you.

"Toji—"

"Shhh, baby," he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with amusement. "S’been too long. Lemme take my time with you."

He’s impossible. Infuriating. But your body betrays you, arching into his touch, fingers threading through his dark hair as he kisses his way lower. You hate how much you missed him—hate how, despite every part of you screaming that this is reckless, stupid, you can’t bring yourself to stop him.

"You’re a wanted man," you remind him breathlessly, grasping onto some semblance of control, but Toji just grins, his teeth grazing over your collarbone before he presses a kiss there.

"Yeah? And?" His fingers hook under the hem of your dress, sliding it higher. "That stop you from wanting me?"

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when he tugs the fabric over your hips, leaving you bare beneath him. Your pulse pounds, heat rushing to your cheeks, and Toji just chuckles, gaze darkening as he drinks you in.

"Fuck, baby," he rasps, running his hands up your thighs, rough fingers making you shiver. "Been waitin’ for this. Dreamin’ about this."

You should push him away. Should demand answers. But instead, your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him back down until his mouth crashes against yours. All that could wait for later, right?

Toji groans into your mouth when you pull him down, all teasing amusement vanishing as his body presses flush against yours. His hands are rough, calloused from years of fights and cold aridness of prison, but they touch you with a hunger and gentle warmth that makes your breath hitch. His knee slots between your legs, pressing just enough to make you whimper, and he smirks against your lips.

"Missed me that bad, huh?" His voice is thick with pride, like he knows what he’s doing to you. Like he couldn't wait to make you melt like this.

You glare at him, chest heaving and lips glossy with swapped saliva. "Shut up, Toji."

He chuckles, low and dark, before flipping you onto your stomach in one swift movement. A startled gasp escapes you as he presses his weight against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"That any way to talk to the man who just risked everything to see you?" His voice is silk and gravel, smooth yet dangerous, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

You swallow hard, pressing your palms against the sheets, heart hammering. "You’re insane."

"Yeah?" His hands slide down your sides, slow, possessive. "And yet here you are, lettin’ an insane man touch you like this."

You open your mouth to snap at him, but then he bites down on your shoulder, just enough to make your breath stutter. You feel his smirk against your skin, feel the way his grip tightens like he’s testing you, waiting for you to fight him, to push him away. But you don’t. Instead, you press back against him, feeling the way his body stiffens for a brief second before a deep, pleased growl rumbles in his chest.

"Fuck," he mutters, voice raspier now. "That’s my girl."

Your stomach flips. Your fingers curl into the sheets.

"Toji—"

His hand slides under your chin, tilting your head just enough for his lips to brush against yours. "Say it." His voice is low, insistent. "Say you missed me."

Your throat tightens. You hate how easy it is for him to pull the truth from you.

"I—" Your voice shakes, but the words tumble out anyway. "I missed you, okay?"

Toji groans like he felt those words, his hand sliding down your stomach, fingers toying with the waistband of your underwear. "Yeah?" His breath is hot against your ear. "Show me, baby."

And then his hands are everywhere, his mouth pressing desperate, feverish kisses along your spine, and you let yourself get lost in the way he devours you like a man starved. Like he’s spent every second of his time locked up thinking about this. About you.

Toji moves like he owns you—like he never left, like he never spent months locked away with nothing but memories and filthy daydreams of you to keep him sane. His hands are rough, greedy, sliding over your skin like he’s trying to make up for lost time. And maybe he is. Maybe that’s why his mouth trails fire along your spine, why his grip tightens every time you sigh his name.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he flips you onto your back again. He looms over you, eyes dark, wild, hungry. "Look at you. Been dyin’ to have you under me again." His dark blue eyes scan over every inch of you, burning it into his memory. The way the silk clings to every curve, the lacy trim that is snug against your breasts, the way one straps slides off your shoulder.

Your breath is uneven, chest rising and falling as he takes his time devouring you with his gaze. He licks his lips, dragging a hand through his messy black hair, and the sight alone makes your stomach tighten. It's as if he spent all his time in prison getting even more sexier.

"Toji," you whisper, fingers ghosting over his jaw, the scar on his lip. He catches your wrist before you can pull away, pressing a kiss to your palm, slow and lingering. Like he needs to feel the warmth and softness of your skin, of your touch.

"Say it again," he rasps. It's music to his ears, hearing it in person rather than through a grainy prison call. Seeing it, the way your pretty lips move as every syllable spills out.

Your throat tightens. "Toji."

He groans, like he felt that in his chest, before surging down to capture your lips again. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a claim, a demand, a promise. He presses himself against you, and it’s impossible to ignore how much he wants you, how much he missed you too.

"Missed you, baby," he mutters against your lips, his hands sliding under the silky slip dress he sent you, pushing it up, baring more of you to him. "Thought about you every fuckin’ night. Couldn’t even sleep without—"

He cuts himself off with a curse, shaking his head like he’s annoyed at himself for admitting it. But the way his grip tightens on you, the way his lips move over your skin, says everything he won’t.

You bite your lip, fingers threading through his hair as he kisses a path down your stomach. "Then why’d you leave me?"

Toji stills. His breath hitches against your skin, just for a second. Then he exhales, slow and controlled, before pressing one last kiss to your hip.

"Didn’t wanna drag you into my shit," he finally mutters, voice rougher now. He lifts his head, meets your gaze. "But guess that was pointless, huh?"

You swallow hard. "Yeah," you whisper, tugging him back up, pressing your forehead against his. "It was."

His lips curl into something between a smirk and a grimace, like he knew this was coming but hoped you wouldn’t say it. He sighs, cupping your face, thumb stroking along your cheek.

"You mad at me, baby?"

You exhale, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Ask me later."

Toji chuckles, low and dark. "Yeah?" He tilts your chin up, kissing you again, slower this time, deeper. "Guess I’ll have to make it up to you first."

And he does.

Over and over again.

Happy Valentine's Day.

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Part twoooo!! I love this sm idk I luv itttt. Requested by the lovely @cheolliehugs

tags ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ @psoycy @yourname-exee @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @universallydepressed13

ꨄ︎ comment to be added to tag list for the lockedup!toji series ꨄ︎

[revelboo]

Anyway your posts keep me sane while I have my mom in the hospital. Thank you for your writing 💕 can I request more of Steve? Whenever you are ready I love him so much 😂

Sure and I hope she’s doing okay

Coin-Operated Boy Pt 3

Vehicons x Reader

• Can’t understand you. Can’t understand your kindness. Helping him even though there’s nothing in it for you. But it means so much to him, servos hesitantly brushing your arm as you tape the last tear and smile up at him. Like this is normal, helping someone you don’t even know with nothing to gain. Is this just an organic thing? Or just you? “That’s the best I can do, sorry,” you say. Apologizing that you hadn’t been able to completely help repair him. Like you think you didn’t do enough.

• Suddenly aware of the fact that he’s curled forward, head brushing yours and the tips of his servos grazing your arm, you back nervously back away. Reminding yourself that just because he’s docile right now doesn’t mean he’s safe. And his arm slowly lowers as his head tips to study your pitiful repair job. He’s not bleeding out whatever his glowing stuff is anymore, but that’s all you’d managed. “I can check and see if the coast is clear, if you want?” You ask and his head tips making you think he doesn’t understand the saying. Walking to the door, you push it open and look outside. Don’t see anyone around now. Whoever made him has to be looking for him, though. “I think you’re okay now. Do you remember how to open the garage door?” Watching as his head slowly dips in a nod, you relax. “For what it’s worth, I hope whoever hurt you doesn’t catch you.”

• Watches you head back up those stairs into the main building, leaving him to rest. Servos flexing, he swears he can still feel those soft, gentle hands on him. Venting, he reluctantly crawls to the bigger door and carefully pokes the little button, hearing something crunch under his servo, but the door slowly rises enough that he can awkwardly crawl out. Knows he’s still far too weak, but he can at least walk to the nearest energon mine for help. His self repair systems trying to deal with the damage now that he’s not losing so much energon. Thanks to you.

• When you open the door to the garage to check on your new friend, you’re not really surprised that he’s gone. It’s not like he’s some stray cat that you can just keep. He’s a giant, crazy advanced robot. And someone did that damage to him, someone you’d rather not deal with. Heading back inside to fix some dinner, you smile despite yourself, wishing Steve good luck wherever he is.

• No one believes him, but that’s not really surprising. They’re cloned soldiers. Expendable. So someone treating them with not only respect, but kindness? He gets it. Gets that the others doubt him. Grimacing as Knockout works on repairing him, he keeps thinking about you. And realizes that he wants to repay you somehow. There must be something he can do for you. What do little organics even like? Maybe some of the other Vehicons know?

Previous

[saraaisfree]

Colors of Us (Kwon Ji-Yong)

pairing: Kwon Ji-Yong x reader

category: fluff, slight angst if you squint

word count: 922

(inspired by this gorgeous hairstyle from 2022)

The days since your boyfriend returned from the military had settled into a familiar rhythm. You’d wake up late, wrapped in each other’s warmth, make a lazy breakfast, and talk about your plans for the day. Then, after work, you’d return home, cuddle on the couch, and fall asleep together.

It was peaceful. It was simple.

It was nothing like the whirlwind life you used to share.

Back then, the “rockstar” era of G-Dragon was in full swing—the partying never seemed to end, the tour schedule was relentless, and the constant travel blurred the days together. You watched how it drained him, how the weight of being a global icon never seemed to leave his shoulders. You did everything you could to support him, but sometimes, even you weren’t sure if it was enough.

Then, after his military service, everything changed.

When Ji-Yong came back, he wasn’t G-Dragon anymore. He was Kwon Ji-Yong—the boy you had fallen in love with, stripped of the fame, the cameras, and the noise. At first, he barely left your shared apartment, retreating into himself for months. He was quiet, hesitant, afraid of stepping back into a world that had moved on without him.

But now, three years later, things were starting to look up. A new BIGBANG song, Still Life, was about to be released, and you could see the spark returning to his eyes. It wasn’t just about making music—it was about reclaiming a part of himself.

And that’s how you found yourself standing in your tiny bathroom, bowls of vibrant hair dye scattered across the counter, preparing to give your boyfriend a brand-new look.

Ji-Yong leaned against the sink, watching as you mixed the first batch. His platinum blonde hair, still damp from washing, hung loosely over his forehead. The sight made you nostalgic—he had always loved experimenting with colors, but this time, it felt different. This time, it was a fresh start.

“So, what color should we do first?” you asked, turning to him with a grin.

He smirked, tilting his head in thought. “Whichever one you want, love. I trust you understand my vision, so just go crazy.”

“Dangerous words, Kwon Ji-Yong,” you teased, dipping a brush into a striking shade of electric blue. “I might just give you rainbow hair.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

And with that, you got to work.

The bathroom quickly became a chaotic mess—splashes of dye on the counter, smudges of color on your arms, and the occasional curse when Ji-Yong playfully nudged you mid-stroke.

“Hold still!” you scolded, carefully sectioning his hair. “Do you want this to turn out patchy?”

“You’re just enjoying bossing me around,” he teased, though he obediently stayed still.

Twenty minutes later, the masterpiece was complete. His hair, once a blank canvas, was now a blend of vibrant hues—red, blue, green, and purple melting into each other like an abstract painting. Ji-Yong blinked at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through the strands.

“Sooo, what do you think?” you asked eagerly, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

A slow smile spread across his face. “It’s perfect. You know me too well.” He turned to press a quick kiss to your lips.

You gasped. “Noo, you got hair dye on my face! Now I’m going to be stained green.”

Ji-Yong laughed, completely unapologetic. “It suits you.”

You huffed, rubbing your cheek dramatically. But before you could complain further, he hesitated, glancing at the leftover dye on the counter.

“Actually, I was wondering… Since we have extra bleach and colors… would you like to match with me?”

You froze. The idea was tempting—but then reality set in.

“Ji, I have an office job,” you reminded him. “I don’t think my boss will be thrilled if I show up looking like a human highlighter.”

He pouted. “Just this once? For old times’ sake?”

Damn him. Damn those pleading eyes.

You sighed, shaking your head with a fond smile. “Fine. But if I get fired, you owe me a lifetime supply of ice cream.”

His grin was immediate. “Deal.”

And so, an hour later, your own hair had undergone a similar transformation. Bright streaks of pink, blue, and purple now wove through your strands, blending into a colorful masterpiece that mirrored Ji-Yong’s.

“Now we really look like a power couple,” he mused, admiring your reflection in the mirror.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “We’ve always been a power couple.”

The two of you spent the next few minutes styling each other’s hair—him carefully tousling yours, you playfully running your fingers through his. Every so often, he’d steal a quick kiss, claiming it was “part of the process.”

When you finally finished, you snapped a picture together—Ji-Yong pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as you smiled at the camera.

You posted it with the caption:

“Some things never change, huh?”

Tomorrow, you’d deal with your boss’s reaction. Tomorrow, you’d worry about professionalism and consequences.

But tonight, you were just happy to fall asleep in your boyfriend’s arms, tangled together in the warmth of familiarity, in a love that had endured years of chaos and change.

Because some things really never did change.

[lets-try-some-writing]

A reminder for myself and other writers in the form of a Q&A style response:

My writing sucks

No it doesn't. Perhaps it is untrained, but it is never worthy of being degraded. The words you weave are a gift that you can cultivate. Never forget that.

What if people don't like my work?

Some people won't like it, and that is the way of things. But that is no reason to be afraid to make the lovely things you have in that marvelous brain of yours. No one else thinks like you do, and no one will ever make the thing you want the same way you could. There is no harm in making something, even if it is not received well. Perhaps someday someone will find themselves changed because of what you have brought into being.

Is it even worth it?

You decide if it has worth or not. Does it bring you joy? Does it increase your skill? Does it challenge you? Does it make you see the world in different ways? Are there people who are touched by it? You decide what makes your work worthwhile. Your life is your own, and no one can choose what should matter most to you. But with that said, every word you write is one step closer to mastery. Never give up because of a lack of engagement.

Are my ideas too crazy/niche?

You'll find your audience, regardless of what you create. There is a place for everyone, and while it is quite likely that farther thrown concepts won't find much ground in bigger fandoms or audiences, there will always be a few who appreciate it. Cherish those people.

I'm worried about my writing style/formatting.

Everyone has their own unique way of going about things. No two writers will ever be the same and that's fine. So long as your work fits into the grammar rules of whatever language you are writing in and doesn't look like a huge text block or otherwise makes no sense paragraph wise, it's probably fine. Most of the smaller issues can be hashed out through a quick chat with a beta reader or even a google search or two. Your style though? That's something you shouldn't stress. It will change as you do and readers will love or hate you for it. Tolkien and C.S Lewis had totally different ways of going about their work and both are beloved. Remember that you can be different too.

I should be writing an original work, not fanfic.

Writing an original work is a draining and monumental effort. Folks make it sound easy, but it isn't. Not usually. And you know what? That's perfectly fine. You don't have to get into writing and instantly whip up the next Harry Potter. In fact, most young writers who do get into things and try to go nuts end up burning out because they lose interest or are not quite skilled enough to bring their vision to life. Fanfiction is a brilliant training ground, a place to test new things, explore your interests through the use of premade templates and worlds, and otherwise begin to develop your style. There is no shame in learning through templates and prompt lists. Besides, if you get good enough at what you do, all your fanfic writing may bear fruit later down the line.

Have some faith in yourself writers. And do be sure to hydrate and take care of yourselves.

[atimesfeeler]

omegaverse wip to show I’m still working on it.

…

“She made him do that?” Logan asked.

“No,” Althea snorted, “Ness didn’t force him to give up anything. He just tried to be better, for her. Ended up losing himself trying to figure it out.”

“Oh,” Logan siad, not quite sure what to say.

“But he’s opened his accounts now. And it’s not like he’s getting back with her anytime soon,” Althea said, “She’s too smart for that. You, on the other hand-”

“Me? No, I’m not-”

Althea interrupted. “Just saying- it’ll get you your own place faster. If I were you, I’d milk him everything you got. If you’re going to put up with his crazy, it’s the least he can do.”

Logan was bizarrely confused on weather Althea was supporting Wade or throwing him under the bus. He’d never been encouraged to be a gold digger before, and he wasn’t planning on taking up such advice either. His breath caught in his throat, thinking about asking Wade to not only let Logan crash at one of his safe houses, but pay for the apartment he wanted to rent.

Logan blanched. “I’m not going to ask him to do that.”

“It’s not a fucking marriage proposal,” Althea said, as if she could read his mind. “Haven’t you ever grabbed life by the balls and fucking shook it? Fuckin’ pussy.”

“You just want the apartment to yourself, don’t you?” Logan sighed.

It was easier than telling Althea that he could never ask someone to do something like that for him. It reminded him too much of relying on Victor and allowing him to hold his power over Logan’s head. When Victor was gone, there was always someone else trying to put him under their thumb and control him, use him like a weapon and a play thing to their contentment. Logan couldn’t risk giving anyone an ounce of power over him.

“You’re damn right I do,” Althea said, “He’d be close enough for movie night but far enough I won’t have to hear his constant chatter.”

Logan huffed his laughter.

“Or hear you two fuckin’,” Althea said, “I’d rather pour bleach in my ears.”

The tips of Logan’s ears burned.

He needed to get out of this fucking house. Logan opened the shared laptop and started looking for job listings.

[spidybaby]

Double Face

Summary: Kylian acts different to you when other people are around.

Warnings: cursing, angst, name calling, gaslighting.

A/N: Happy Monday, everyone! Love you all ❤️ I've been away from tumblr and I really missed you and writing. Hope you all are fine 🤍

Turn around." He orders, making you turn to where he is. "I like that outfit." He smiles.

You smile back to him. Looking back again at your reflection to take a last look of yourself. You move to order the things you moved.

"I'm thinking about ordering some wine." He says, kissing the side of your head. "What do you think?"

You nod your head, smiling at him over the reflection of the mirror. Kylian smiles, finishing with the last details of his outfit.

You two take your time, you did your makeup, and he prepared his hair. When you finished, you called him.

"Ready to go?" You ask him, smiling from downstairs.

"Oui, madame." He smiles, walking downstairs to meet you. "A kiss?" You giggle, giving him a kiss. "Your first night in Madrid, I'm so happy." He hugs you tightly, kissing your shoulder.

Kylian and you have been together since the end of 2022. You met when you got hired at Paris Saint Germain as a sports reporter.

You even travel with the French National Team to the World Cup. Kylian needed you there not as a part of the team but as his partner.

He invited you to live with him in Madrid. You told him that you weren't so sure. You wanted to be able to work on the media as a reporter.

He got you a job as a La Liga reporter. You were beginning during the Valladolid vs. Villarreal game. You were so nervous because even tho you speak Spanish, you feel nervous about fucking things up.

"I'm happy too." You hug him. "Let's hurry, I don't want us to lose the reservation." You say, grabbing your bag from the table next to the stairs.

Kylian and you got to the restaurant. He loved the small, private places in Madrid. After all, he didn't want paparazzi or crazy fans to disturb your peace.

You were used to paparazzi and to crazy fans, even when people weren't as used to the two of you as you wanted.

You had to endure the rumors, the critics, the name calling, the people on the internet making fun of you.

It wasn't as easy as you wanted it to be. Being with someone as big as him was a problem. He was focused on football and making sure his team was good, that sometimes he forgot that he had a life outside the field.

When you took the job in Madrid, you made sure that Kylian and you were on the same page about life.

You weren't a child anymore, and the in and out type of relationships weren't your thing anymore. You want security, someone who's ready to take the next step if he needs to.

"I'm nervous about starting tomorrow." You confess to him.

"Why?' He asks, frowning. "Your second language is Spanish. You speak it so well and you have so much experience as a reporter."

"Thank you," you say, grabbing his hand. "I'm just feeling insecure, and I think being nervous isn't helping."

"You did an amazing job at the World Cup, and let me remind you that PSG hired you because of how good you were with the interviews and with the players during your internship."

You smile at him. Getting closer to kiss him. "I have to travel to Valladolid." You smile. "I'm happy about it."

The rest of the dinner was good, you two changed the topic to different ones. It was nice to be back with him and not having to see him over a screen.

When you are back home, you ask him for help with your luggage. "Heels or no heels?" You show him the shoes. "And if yes, pumps or stilettos?"

"Is both an option?" He asks, grabbing a stiletto. "I like this one, tho."

yourusermame

Liked by k.mbappe, laliga and 98,856 others

yourusermame one down and a lot to go.

laliga our new favorite reporter

ethanmbappe need an exclusive? 👀

yourusermame open dms croissant boy

km9lover not her calling him croissant boy 😭😭😭

You walk over the big tunnel of the stadium. You and the cameraman were talking about the sound.

"Mister Gonzalez asked for you to interview one of the madrid guys." He says, checking his texts.

"I'll try to get Jude." You say, making him nod.

The game was about to finish, so you needed to be quickly and try to interview Jude. Since he was the one who scored two goals, you need to be quicker than others.

When you made it to the field, you had two minutes left of the extra time the referee gave. You check the audio, and you check your reflection on your phone screen.

The stadium erupts in happiness as the Real Madrid wins. You smile at how the team runs to the field.

You noticed the smile Kylian has. After all the media says about him, you are happy that he has peace and happiness with this win.

"Y/n, here comes Jude."

You nod, standing to the side of the entrance. Jude smiles at you, stopping when you try to talk to him.

"Jude, can you give us an interview? please." You smile at him.

He nods, smiling and walking with you to where the camera is. You ask if the cameraman is ready.

You began interviewing him. Jude is so happy about his two goals, he dedicates them to his parents.

"Thank you, Jude." You smile.

He walks to another group of reporters who wants to interview him. You notice how other players are still on the field.

You interview a player from Barcelona. You feel tired but have to keep a smile on your face for the sake of the interviews.

You go back to the tunnel, saying your goodbye to your team. You text Kylian, asking him if he wants you to wait for him.

He asks you to wait for him outside in the corridor. You wait there, sitting on a bench that's there.

You noticed some players leave, one of them being Jude. "Hey there Missis Reporter." He smiles at you.

"Hi Jude," You stand up to talk to him. "Thank you for the interview. My boss was happy."

"No problem." He giggles. "What are you doing here?" He asks. "Do you need a ride? I can call you an Uber."

You smile at him. You were about to answer when you hear Kylian's voice. "Jude, you forgot this."

He gives Jude a folder of things. Congratulating him for the goals. Jude smiles at him, shy at all the congratulations he's receiving.

"Hey, ready to go?" He asks you. Making you nod.

"Oh, you now her!" He smiles at the two of you. "How do you know each other?"

You were about to answer, but Kylian does it first.

"She was part of the media team at Paris Saint Germain." He says.

You nod, not thinking much of it. "And now I'm here at La Liga."

"That's amazing. Welcome to Madrid." He smiles. "Thank you, Mate. See you around"

You both say goodbye. You two walk to where the cars are. You try to grab Kylian's hand, but he's quicker and grabs his phone.

"Want some sushi?" He asks, showing you on his phone the menu of a restaurant.

"Oui oui, monsieur." You say, intertwining your arm with his. "Maybe some dumplings too." You smile at him.

You enter Kylian's house. You have the groceries you just got. You walk to the kitchen, finding Kylian there.

"Hi." You say.

Your greetings make him turn. He smiles, moving from the wooden stool to get to you. He kisses your cheek.

"I got you all the ingredients to make your shakes in the morning." You say happily.

"You are the best." He says, kissing the top of your nose. "Let's me help you organize."

You two place the groceries while joking around. You love these moments with him. It makes you feel like falling in love again.

"Some friends are coming tonight." He says. "I wanted to ask if you can make us something for dinner."

"Mhm," you say. "Whatever you want, amour."

He smiles, showing you a recipe that he wants you to prepare. You got all the ingredients ready while he was preparing himself.

You prepared enough food for all his friends. Even making time to prepare something for them to have as a dessert.

You heard the doorbell, the maid Kylian hired to help around the house open the door. You hear a very known voice.

"Hola, can I come in?" Camavinga asks.

"Hola, Edu." You say, hugging him. "I missed you around."

"Missed you too. The National Break was hell without you there. The new reporter didn't even knew what to do."

You two make conversation. The doorbell rang again. This time, it was Vini and Jude. They were talking about some match they saw on tv.

You greet Vini while Eduardo greets Jude. You and Vini met before Kylian came to Madrid. They were friends, so he knew you.

"Take a seat in the living room, I'll get some drinks for you." You smile at them. "Kylian is getting ready. He'll be here soon."

They all nod, doing what you told them to do. You serve some drinks, get some snacks on the bowls, and take it to where they are.

Kylian joins them not that long after. They were going to see an NBA game. You didn't wanted to interrupt, so you stayed on the side.

You finish the meal while they are enjoying the game. You were so into the video you are watching that you don't notice someone entering the kitchen until that person clears their throat.

"Hello, interview girl." Jude says.

"Hello, Mister Jude Bellingham." You giggle. "Do you need anything?"

"Can I get more juice?" He asks.

You nod, grabbing his cup and serving him more liquid.

"I thought you were just Kylian's friend." He confess. "Since he introduces you as an ex coworker."

"Well, we don't shout out to the world that we are a couple." You chuckle, passing him his drink.

He nods, understanding. "Isn't it weird to interview him?"

You were about to answer when Kylian entered the kitchen asking you a question. "Amour, can you serve the food?"

You nod at him. Smiling at Jude and excusing yourself to grab the plates that Kylian handed you.

Kylian tells Jude to go sit with the others. He waits for Jude to be out off the kitchen to turn to you.

"Smells so good." He says, getting closer and kissing your lips. "I bet it tastes as good as it looks."

"I hope so." You laugh.

He helps you with taking the plates. Since they were only four people, the two of you were enough to take them out.

"I've been craving the food since I step on this house." Vini says, laughing. "It looks amazing too."

Eduardo and Jude laughed at him. Kylian helps with passing the rest of the things.

"Are you eating with us, Y/n?" Camavinga asks.

"She won't." Kylian says. "She must be tired."

You turn to him, watching him with a confused look on your face. He ignored your eyes.

"Oh, don't be silly, come eat with us." Jude says. "I don't think you only cooked for us and didn't leave a plate for yourself."

"Like I said." Kylian says. "She's tired."

The room got quiet. You look at Kylian with a neutral expression. His response seems agressive.

You smile at them. "I'll bring you guys more drinks." You say after a few moments, moving back to the kitchen.

You took a deep breath, trying to put your best smile. You walk back, the boys are talking back again.

Camavinga looks at you and smiles, posing his hand on your arm, he squish your arm as a way of asking if you were okay.

You nod, understanding what he was trying to do. You grab his arm and squish it in return.

"I'll be upstairs, I'm kind of tired, as Kylian says." You wave them a goodbye.

You can help but notice the face of the boys. Kylian was looking at his phone. He didn't even lift his head or said thank you to you like the others.

You walk upstairs, the feeling of shame grows with every step you take. You try to excuse the behavior by saying it's about the stress he's feeling.

But that wasn't the first time it happened. You just haven't noticed it.

"He's a World Cup champion, and she's a sports reporter who got her job because she's with him." You read what the magazine says.

Melissa scuffs, rolling her eyes at the words that are coming out of your mouth. She can't believe someone took the time to write that and print it for other people to read.

"She's trying to become the new Sara." You say, laughing a little. "Well, I'm not trying to become Georgina but Sara." You laugh.

"I don't know which one is better." Melissa laughs with you, taking the magazine in her hands. "At least they printed a good picture of you."

"That's why I'm forgiving them." You joke. "Yes, they wrote that I'm a gold digger who's using my boyfriend's influence to work in Spain sports media, but on the pictures, I look amazing."

You two laugh, Melissa threw the magazine to the trash as you two walk back inside. You were enjoying a nice hot chocolate.

She prepared two snacks for you to eat while you sit on the couch and talk about life updates you have.

"When are you leaving?"

"I have to cover the Atletico de Madrid game in four hours." You say, checking the time. "And I have to be there two hours before, so in about twenty minutes."

You pick the things with her help. You excuse yourself, going to the room and picking your outfit before taking a shower.

You try to style yourself quickly, you add some natural makeup. It was winter, so you like to use a light blush.

You finish with yourself, walking downstairs and finding Melissa talking with her daughter. "Oh, Lana, you are awake!" You say happily.

She nods at you. Hiding behind her mom, making you and Melissa laugh. "Go before traffic gets worse."

You say your goodbyes to them. Hurrying to the stadium, thankfully, you got a little bit earlier than you needed.

You meet your team, helping them with preparing everything for the pre of the game. You place your mic and your earpiece.

"Mike, I'll go to the bathroom." You say, leaving your things on the side, where your things and the team things are.

You walk over the corridors, saying hi to some of the other news workers. You take your time, noticing how the players are taking theirs.

When you are back, you notice this other reporter. You roll your eyes at the presence of her. She's a bother, and you don't like her.

"I'm back." You say, playing the earpiece and your mic back in place. You check your watch. "Fifteen to get started." You say to them.

You check your makeup one last time, applying more gloss to your lips. You check if your teeth were clean from anything.

"So, did you read what Hola Magazine wrote about you?" She asks.

Your sigh, turning to her with a fake lip smile. "I didn't," you lie. "Why? What did they say?"

"Nothing, just some facts here and there."

You lift your eyebrow, facts?

You were about to answer her, but you shut your mouth. It's better that way. You know she only wants you to react.

They gave you the sign, and you two began talking to the camera. You can separate your personal life from your work life.

You don't care if Alessandra, the reporter, or any other person tells you something about you, you don't mind it.

Of course it made you feel weird. You wouldn't talk about someone the way they talk about you, or even create the rumors people create about you.

You finish with the segment, grabbing your stuff quickly and walking to the corner. You have to write down every possible thing that can help you to interview the players.

To your bad luck, Alessandra was seated next to you. You were hoping for her to be sent to the other side of the field.

You tried your best to ignore her. You don't feel like engaging in a conversation. You don't want to be her friend, and she doesn't want to be yours.

You concentrate on the game in front of you. Patiently waiting for something to happen.

You can't help but be distracted with your phone. Kylian was home, and he was trying to fond something.

You were trying to be quick and explain to him where you put that thing he's looking for. Quickly returning your attention to the game.

"Did you notice that De Paul has his girlfriend here?" She asks you. Pointing at the players' balcony. "She's an influencer."

You scan everybody at the balcony, not really being able to distinguish her away from the others.

"That's cute." You say, not giving too much attention.

"Have you ever been to Kylians' games?"

You nod, looking at the field. "Many."

She scuffs. "I mean, of course you have." She says, funny tone. "But not as a psg reporter, an fff social media person or a la liga reporter, but as his girlfriend."

You then think that you haven't been to any of his games as a girlfriend. You've been there, of course, but you were also working outside the field.

"I have." You lie. "Why?"

"Just curious." She shrugged. "Don't you love when players show off their girlfriends? It's so cute."

You nod, taking notes of an assist that Antoine did. You then look at her and nod again, you don't want to seem rude, even when you want to be.

"I never seen Kylian done that with you." She says, smirking. "If I recall, he has never mentioned you."

You knew that this was coming. Every time you guys had a kind of nice conversation, she had to be shady and threw you a comment about your private life.

"Why would he?" You ask, eyebrow raised. "His private life is only his."

"Oh, I know." She says, pressing a hand to her chest. "I just feel for you. I can't imagine being hide in so cleared light."

You shake your head no. "I'm not hidden."

"I mean, if you say so." She chuckles. "But if I'm honest, I wouldn't be surprised if next season you are not with us anymore."

You were about to answer her, but the referee marked the end of the first half. You excuse yourself, you place the notebook down, grab your bag and walking to the tunnel before the players.

You walk into the bathroom, locking yourself in one. You breathe a few times, trying to calm the urge to drag her by the hair.

You walk out, finding other reporters. You wash your hands and say a quick hi and goodbye to them. You grab your phone, texting Kylian to ask him if he found what he wanted.

He texted you a picture of him with a thumbs up. You reply with a picture of the corridor.

You try your best to keep calm. You don't want to make a scene by telling her to shut up or to mind her business.

You won't fall for that.

You can't help but not be able to concentrate the whole game. Rodrigo De Paul scored a goal, making a hand signal for his new girlfriend.

Something inside of you is making you feel some type of way.

As much as you act as if you are okay with the whole < private but not secret > kind of relationship Kylian wants.

You want to be able to go out and have fun with him at clubs and not be locked in the vip room away from the other people at the club.

You wanted to be able to go to the movies and not have to rent the movie or a whole cinema room for the two of you.

Or maybe be able to not feel like you are doing something wrong when you post about him on your Instagram stories.

You also know that being with him meant not doing a lot of "normal" things that common people do on a daily basis.

Or normal couples, like going to the park to spend a quiet time, you can't go to the mall and just shop around or have a meal without having dozens of people and paparazzi outside, waiting for him.

Sometimes you just want to be able to act like a normal couple and to be seen as something more than just the girl he's hiding.

Not the first time people called you that.

Not the first time people acted as if you were a gold digger who's about to baby trap him into giving you his fortune.

You have accepted that people are going to tell you that.

What you can't seem to accept is that he prefers for you to endorse the comments, hate, and critics over him issuing a statement for people to leave you alone and to stop the comments.

You make yourself believe that is because he's trying to show that others have no power over his private life.

But he has defended different things about that same private life.

Why can't he defend you like that?

You can barely concentrate during the interviews, making general questions instead of the ones you wrote on your notes.

Some of your teammates asked you if you were okay, worried about you looking so down. You blame it on probably coming with a cold.

Your boss told you that you could skip the next game. He didn't want you to work sick and coming with something worse than the cold.

You checked and noticed that the next game you were scheduled for was a Real Sociedad game in five days. This means that you are able to watch the Real Madrid game.

You feel happy, you weren't working and your boyfriend was playing. You will finally be able to see him play as his girlfriend and not as the reporter in the corner of the field.

You can't wait!

You enter your home happy and excited to share the news with Kylian. You left your bag and notebook in the entrance as you walk upstairs to find him.

Melissa and lana were back in Paris, meaning that the only person in the house apart from your boyfriend was Bryce.

"Bonjour!" You say, smiling at him.

He was on his phone, putting it aside when you walked inside. "Bonjour, amour." He says, opening his arms to you.

You close the door behind you and run to the bed. You jump carefully into his arms. "I missed you."

He chuckles, kissing your cheeks. "You saw me a few hours ago."

"I know." You say dramatically, sighing. "But I missed you all day long."

He grabs the back of your neck, bringing you closer. His lips crashed with yours, starting a kiss.

You let it happen for a while, relaxing into his arms. You almost forget about the news you want to share with him.

"Stop." You say between kisses. "I have to tell you something."

"Can it wait?" He asks before going back to your lips.

You shake your head no, "it's good news." You smile, placing your hands on each side of his head and lifting yourself. Now you are siting on top of him.

He places his hands behind his head. "Okay, go on." He says with a smirk on his face.

"My boss gave me good news." You start.

"You are getting promoted?" He asks, teasing you.

"No, I don't think we can get promoted here." You say. "Okay, so the news are-"

"You are covering the next clásico?"

"Well." You think for a second. "They don't even think about the next clásico yet. But, I wanted to say-"

"I'm thinking about the next clásico." He says, almost laughing at your desperation.

He knows that you love to say the good news quickly, so he loves to tease you and interrupt you as much as he can with questions.

"Kylian! Let me spit it out."

"Oh, pardon." He chuckles. "I just thought you like to swallow."

You can't help but blush. "I'm not reacting to that." You say. "I-"

"Oh, amour." He laughs. "Those rosy cheeks already did." He takes on hand from behind his head to your face, squishing your cheeks.

You take his hand into yours. "Let me finish!" You whine. He laughs and nods. "My boss gave me a few days off, meaning I can come to your next game!"

You don't seem to catch it, but his smile fades a little. "Oh, really?"

"Si!" You say. "Aren't you happy?" You ask.

He nods, a lip smile on his face. "I just thought that you might want to relax. You know how tiring games are."

You shake your head no. "I can take it." You say, leaning down to give him a kiss. "I want to see my champ play." You smile at him.

"Are you sure?"

You think he's just teasing you, not giving it mind that deep down, he hopes that you say that he's right and that you'll stay home.

"I mean, I'll need a jersey because I don't know where mine is, but other than that, yes."

He sighs. "I'll get you one tomorrow, I'll also ask for them to give me another ticket."

The tone was flat, not a single drop of excitement. You catch a little bit of that.

"You okay?" You ask, frowning a little.

He nods. "Want me to make you a sandwich?" He asks, changing the subject.

"Mmm, with extra cheese?" You ask.

"With extra love, bébé." He says, using one arm to lift himself with you still in top of him. "Love you."

"I love you more." You kiss him. "Very very much." You smile.

yourusername

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yourusername 🤍

View all 35,586 comments

k.mbappe 🤍

ethanmbappe Peux-tu répondre à mon texte ? 🙄

kylianwifee finally some wag conent related

km9xvini7 I know 😭 I hope she keeps posting like this

"Do you like it?" You ask him, waiting patiently for his answer.

He shakes his head. "Honestly. No, I don't." He says. Your smile drops, and you are about to get worried, but the way his lips curve in a smile. "I love it."

You smile, giving him a hug. "I made it with so much love." You say, grabbing his face and giving him a kiss.

"You are going to make me fat, a very loved fat footballer." He laughs, pecking your lips. "Did you enjoy the game?" He asks, kissing your forehead.

"I did." You nod, hugging him tighter. "You did amazing, champ." You smile. "I love seeing you play."

You let Kylian finish the food, still hugging him. You let him take his time with the food, and you yourself take some time to carefully caress his face.

You are so I'm love with that man.

"You are an amazing chef." He smiles, his nose bumping yours. "Want to go upstairs and watch your show?" He asks.

You nod, smiling like crazy.

"You have that early meeting tomorrow?"

"Noup, tomorrow is still free." You smile, grabbing the plate and walking to the sink, leaving the plate there. "Why?"

He hugs you from behing, his lips kissing behind your ear. "I just want to spend some time with you?"

yourusername

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yourusername another day 😋

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meliissagateau get me a signed jersey

yourusername 🤨🤨🤨

ethanmbappe échauffe-toi, tu es le prochain

yourusername tais-toi, croissant

kykswifu9 I need her and kylian to post something together 😭❤️

jude5vini7 I think kylian mentioned before that he wants to keep his relationship away from the media because of how some fans criticize other players' girlfriends or wives

madridgirl23 @jude5vini7 I mean it makes sense 🤷🏻‍♀️ look at how people react to other players posting their partners, better be safe

You walked back inside the house, it was still early. You had an early game, and you are able to rest before dinner.

"Ky! Are you home?" You ask, leaving your belongings on the table next to the door.

You take the phone out of your purse, you notice that there was no text from Kylian other than the one where he asked you something.

You call him, trying to see if he was maybe out with a friend or up in the bedroom. You got into voice mail, deciding to ring him another time.

You walk into the kitchen, hungry for something sweet. You find the lady who helps you with the cleaning there.

"Hi!" You say to her. "You are here late. Is everything okay?"

She nods. "I was waiting for you." She answers.

"You are so sweet for waiting," you smile at her. "Do you happen to know where Kylian is?"

She nods again. "He left with Mister Tchaga to maybe somewhere important because he was very elegant dressed."

You frown a little bit, he never talked about any gala or anything like that, he even asked you if you wanted take out for dinner earlier in the morning. Maybe she was confused and they went to a party or something last minute.

"Mister Mbappe told his friend that you didn't feel well. Even asked me to wait for you to see if you feel sick when you return from work."

You feel more confused than before. Why would he lie about you? If he thinks that you are not well, maybe he should have asked you directly.

"If you want me to, I can prepare you something." She offers. "I know some remedies my mother used to give my brothers and me. Very effective."

You smile at her. "Gracias, I'll see how my night goes, and if I still feel sick in the morning, I'll let you know."

She nods, saying goodbye to you. You excuse yourself and walk upstairs. You open the door to your shared room and notice two suits.

One was thrown in the bed, and the other one was on the chair next to your bed. You can't help the confusing thoughts.

Did he mention the event?

Did you forget about it?

Did you say no?

You open X, trying to see if you can find any info about what this. It didn't take you that much work because as soon as the app loads, you find a tweet of a fan page.

It was a football gala for The Best. They were getting an invitation because they were getting some kind of awards there and also on the field.

Most of the players, if not all of the ones who have a partner, brought their partner. They were all posing for the cameras.

You feel hurt.

Kylian didn't even care about asking you.

Yes, you had work, but asking wouldn't take more than a few seconds. Plus, the game was at two pm. You stayed more than you should in the stadium because you were free.

If he asked you about it, you could have asked someone to cover for you or left right after the game.

You try to ignore the crying sensation. You need to talk about it with him. Maybe it was a big misunderstanding. Maybe you are exaggerating.

You take a shower, washing the stress you are feeling away. The hot water makes you relax, clear your mind from the names you want to call Kylian.

You do your normal routine. You want to be clean for bed, even tho there was still a long wait before bed, you wanted to rest.

You turn on your favorite show, watching some episodes. But you ended up disassociating into your own thoughts.

You took a little nap, trying to calm your mind from the noise. As people say, a good nap can fix everything.

You wake up, noticing the sun wasn't there anymore, you check your phone and noticed you have a few texts, it was the chauffeur. He sent you a few texts letting you know that he picked food for you per Kylian's request.

You thank him. Leaving the comfort of your sheets and walking downstairs to pick it up. You check the time on your phone 8:17 pm.

You overslept, you originally wanted an hour nap or so, but you don't have to be mad at the rest cause it felt amazing.

You open the bag, checking that it has your favorite food inside, you may be mad at Kylian, but he kind of won the privilege of not getting 1 of the 20 names you have ready for him.

You decide to eat in the kitchen, not wanting to get your sheets dirty. You seat on the big table he picked for the house.

Maybe it's your anger, maybe it's the disappointment, maybe it's just the fact that you now notice things.

But one thing you never noticed was how alone you were in that big cold house.

You had to eat alone most of the times, you have to wake up alone most of the days, you have to sleep alone because he was out or late training in the gym.

You never really made mind of how much it bothered you. Maybe because as you said "it's because he's not a normal person."

You finish the food, taking the containers to the trash. You wash the fork and knife you used, wanting to leave the kitchen as clean as it was before.

You were drying your hands when you hear the front door. You stayed quiet, not wanting to face him when you know Bryce was with him.

They talk a little bit, you can even hear Bryce ask if he knows how you feel.

Mad.

That's how you feel.

You hear them move upstairs, you wait a little bit more, wanting for Bryce to get into the guest room.

When you hear both door closing it when you know you have to get upstairs. You open the door, watching him get out of the closet.

"Hey!" He smiles. "I was looking for you."

You humm, walking to the bathroom and brushing your teeth. You take a few breathes before walking back to the room and get into the covers.

You wait for him to finish his routine. He was happy, you can tell ny the big smile on his face and how he was humming a song.

Before he could reach the sheets with his hand, you talk.

"How was the gala?" You ask, a very monotone voice.

"Amazing, very simple but kind of long." He answers as if nothing is wrong. "How was the game?"

"Why did you tell Bryce that I was sick?" You ask, not answering his question. "Not only I'm not sick but also I'm very mad at the fact that you lied!"

You try to keep your composure. You don't want to yell, you don't want to fight, you just want an explanation.

He stayed quiet, looking at you with a blank expression on his face.

"You are suddenly voiceless?" You ask. "You never told me about any gala, I had to find out via social media what it was." You continue.

"I did." He says.

"Don't." You say with a very stern tone. "You didn't, and you know it."

"I did." He repeats. "You probably didn't pay attention."

"Okay, when did you tell me?" You ask him, trying to prove a point.

"Why are you acting like this?" He asks, rolling his eyes. "I had an amazing day, can you drop it?"

"No, I can't. When did you asked me?"

He hides his face into his hands. "God, you can be annoying." He shout. "Probably like two weeks ago."

"Lies!" You shout back. "I was in Sevilla."

"Then when you came back!"

"You were in Valencia." You say. "You didn't tell me. And that doesn't even matter, what matter here is that you could've told me < Hey, y/n I forgot to tell you about this event, sorry about it> But no, you lie to me and you told your friends and even our maid that I was sick!"

He doesn't answer.

"Why?" You ask. "Why are you doing this?"

He shrug, not putting a little bit of care into it.

"Have you ever noticed that you never took me to any of your galas?" You ask, the sadness in your voice is evident. "Kylian, what is wrong? Talk to me!"

He rolls his eyes again, grabbing the pillow. He was trying to get out of the situation by leaving the room.

"Where are you going?" You ask, throwing the sheets off of you. "You are not leaving until we are done with this conversation, sir." You warn him.

You take the pillow away out of his hands. "Stop that." He says.

"I will, once you and I have a talk." You say, throwing the pillow back on the bed. "I can't keep pretending that everything is fine."

"You don't have to!" He yells. "We are fine."

"How are we fine?" You yell back, not caring about his friend or anything else. "Kylian, you are doing this on purpose."

"You are crazy." He says, walking into the bathroom. He slams the door, leaving you alone. "You are losing your mind!" He yells again.

You try to calm down, you need to have a serious conversation with him, and screaming won't get you to it.

You wait for him to get out of the bathroom. When he sees that you are not giving up, he groans.

"Can you not?" He asks. "You ruined my night."

The way his voice soundes so dark makes you shiver. He didn't even care that what he's doing is hurting you.

"I can say the same thing to you." You say with the same tone. "We can resolve this if you just tell me what the fuck is going on!"

"What do you want me to say?" He asks.

You shake your head. "The truth!"

"I haven't even noticed that you never came to one of my galas, maybe because you are not the center of my focus and attention."

That hurts.

"Okay," you nod. "I just want to know if this is going to continue, because I'm honestly so tired of this shit."

He shakes his head. "I don't know, are you going to keep acting this way?"

"Why am I being blamed?" You ask, angry at his attitude. "Kylian, you are the one who wanted this relationship to be off camera. Yes, I agreed. But I never agreed to being toss aside like if I'm not worth a shit."

You feel your eyes getting teary, you don't want him to say that you are creating a drama or anything. So you clean them quickly.

"I love you," you say to him. "Don't you love me like I do?"

He stays quiet, letting the minutes pass.

You never thought the silence can become so loud to the point that it feels like screams. You understood so much with that passive agressive action.

"Are you ashamed of me?" You ask. "I mean, you meet me as a reporter and you asked me to be your girlfriend when I was working as a reporter. So maybe I'm lost, but I don't get when we got to this point."

"I asked you to leave your work and come with me to Madrid." He says. "But you told me that you wanted to keep working on the media and even suggested a long distance relationship."

"Because I love my job, Kylian." You answer. "Is that a problem? You knew that I wasn't someone who was going to sit around and wait for you to come home with a fresh cooked meal and some fresh ironed clothes."

"Couldn't you just sacrifice something for me?" He asks. "I mean, you have everything here! You have a maid, look at this house and you don't even need to pay anything, not a single bill."

"So you wanted me to just leave my work and become your stay at home girlfriend?" You ask. "Would that be better? Would you be prouder of me?"

"Maybe" He says. The tone of honesty is what hurted the most.

"I worked my ass off since college to get where I am." You began. "Yes, you got me this job, and thank you for that. But if the price I have to pay is that you feel like I'm not good enough, then maybe I do have to change!" You say.

He nods, walking over to you. "I promise you that everything will be worth it." He says, smiling at your quick comprehension. "I'll give you everything you want."

You take a few steps back. "I don't think you understand." You say.

"quoi?"He asks, confused.

"Kylian, I'm not changing my job." You chuckle.

Maybe it was the pain turning into a laughing situation. Maybe it was a coping mechanism.

"Then what are you changing?" He asks, still confused.

"You." You say, smiling a little. "We are done."

[adieutristana]

AHH UR WRITING EATS UP EVERY TIME🙏🔥🔥

anyways, low-key inspired by your Jinx-ring fix and got an idea. Reader makes jewlery for fun and her, Jinx and Isha all have some kind of matching jewelry w/ a little hex-jem in it

-thank youuu (take ur time n take care of yourself honey💜)

of course! thank you for the request <3

thank you for the kind words! also this request kind of reminded me of those dora and disney princess kid rings that used to be everywhere in the 2000s? i loved those please tell me i'm not crazy and you guys know what i'm talking about.

summary; reader makes matching rings for herself, jinx, and isha.

characters included; jinx, isha (platonic/familial)

tags/warnings; fluff, domestic, welder/jeweler!reader, mother/mother/daughter dynamic, i can't rly think of anything else

men dni.

"stay still."

you murmur, holding a thin strip of paper around jinx's right ring finger. you wrap it around once, using one of jinx's blue markers to mark just a millimeter below where the paper should end. just for safety, you think. jinx's gaze is fixed on you, before you straighten up and write 'J' on the remainder of the white strip.

“got me all measured now?”

“mhm. thanks, babe.” you smile, squeezing one of your girlfriend’s shoulders.

you'd told her what you were up to. you were an apprentice under one of the undercity's only jewelers, welding jewelry by hand and making custom orders for loyal patrons. wedding bands, engagement rings, promise rings, pendants, chains, charm bracelets- you'd done it all.

since taking in isha, once just a scared little girl in the lanes who insisted on hanging off jinx's pant leg, your life had changed for the better. you'd already been pretty satisfied with the state of things. you had a stable job, you loved your craft, you had a beautiful and loving girlfriend by your side. all of this combined was more than enough to keep you happy, but at the most unexpected of times, this girl had come into your life.

she was afraid, having seen firsthand the rigidity of zaun and just how violent things could become; especially in the climate of recent days. but she was also sweet, and both you and jinx could tell that she just needed someone to love her. communicate with her, play with her, make her feel important. rather, two someones.

yet after taking her in, she’d grown so much. always such a playful kid, so curious about the world around her and so fascinated by both you and jinx. you’d had endless adventures together, filled with laughter and anticipation. a kid-friendly version of jinx’s usual mayhem. though you’d also share quiet mornings together, when isha wants to help you make breakfast or wants you to read from one of the children’s books jinx had stolen for her.

and now, you wanted to do something for the three of you. a marker of your status as a family, and something you know both jinx and isha would love. with jinx’s possessive nature, matching jewelry was an immediate ‘yes,’ and isha would be delighted to receive something so personalized. and to be able to match with her moms? that’s the cherry on top!

though, both you and jinx had agreed to keep it a surprise for the girl. the look on her face when she received her gift would be worth having to keep a secret (as difficult as that was for jinx).

“your turn, ish!”

you call out, a sound which is soon followed by the pitter-patter of little feet. isha looks up at you with wide, curious eyes, before you crouch down to her level and reach your hand out for one of hers.

“give me your hand.”

you hum, your tone instantly becoming softer in the presence of isha. she holds up both hands, looking at you as if to ask ‘which one?’ a smile tugs at your lips, and you let out a light chuckle.

“either one. just give me a hand.”

isha then puts down her right hand, giving you free access to her left. you gently take the girl's hand in yours and spread her fingers out, slotting another thin slip of paper in. she tilts her head curiously, but allows you to wrap the paper around her finger and mark it- this time with a yellow 'I.' upon releasing her hand, you look up at the girl before you to be greeted by furrowed brows. a low laugh escapes you.

"it's a surprise, kid. you'll know soon enough, okay?"

isha frowns, looking over to jinx for some kind of backup or clue as to what you're finding, though she just shrugs in her chair.

"sorry, isha. this one-" she points her index finger at you. "made me promise not to tell."

the girl lets out a low yet adorable groan, keeping her little arms crossed over her chest. you could almost give in upon seeing her bottom lip poking out lightly, her leaning on one leg, and those yellow eyes narrowed; but you had a surprise to keep. isha would know soon enough, and she'd love it.

✧.*

it was challenging to find time between clients, but within about three weeks, you'd finally managed to complete the set of rings.

the rings you'd made yourself and your girlfriend weren't difficult. but you'd never made a ring for a child before, and making a piece of jewelry fit for isha's fingers proved to be one of the most daunting tasks during your time as a jeweler. engraving it had proved to be even more difficult. but you'd managed, and you were damn proud of the final results.

your girlfriend and isha sit in front of you, looking at you with expectant eyes. you'd just told them that you had a surprise for them both, and guided them to sit on jinx's torn leather couch. jinx knows exactly what you're planning, trying (and failing) to look unassuming in front of isha.

"close your eyes and hold your hands out," you say with a smile, giving both girls knowing glances while they do what you've asked. isha's hands out in front of her while her wide eyes slip shut, jinx wearing a slight smirk. you step back and take a deep breath in, before reaching into your back right pocket to retrieve the rings. two matching silver bands, the metal clinking together quietly as you try to separate them in your hand.

you place the rings in their outstretched hands, before reaching into your left pocket to take your own out and slip it onto your finger.

"now... open."

both of their eyes slip open, and isha instantly gasps at the sight before her. jinx's eyes widen, immediately wearing a toothy grin. she turns the ring in her hand, looking at how the shiny silver catches in the light.

"look at that."

she gasps, turning the ring in her hand. jinx's ring holds a blue hex crystal, glowing even in the dim lighting of jinx's hideout. on one side of the crystal, a cursive engraving of the letter J, and a simplistic outline of a monkey on the other side. isha's own is similar, holding another hex crystal. an 'I' is engraved into her ring, a bunny on the other side to match it.

and your own, the same silver band and hex crystal adorning it. though this one is engraved with your initial, and the outline of a cat.

"you like it?" you ask, holding up your right hand for jinx to see. her smile returns, and isha is nodding frantically. it's adorable to see- her wide smile and the way her hair bounced up and down while nodding. she's so enthusiastic.

"it looks great, toots." she muses, "but i still think i could've done better. i have scrap metal and a blowtorch."

you lightly roll your eyes at jinx's quip, but turn to gauge isha's reaction. she's already put her ring on where she remembers you measuring her, marveling at the sight. she's switching between gasping whenever she notices a new detail, and smiling wide at the fact that you made this for her. the fact that they're all matching and personalized isn't lost on isha, and you can tell it makes it that much more special for the girl.

a far cry from the scared child jinx had brought home a few months prior, and this is exactly what makes your job worth it. not the acclaim, not the positive critics' reviews, not even the money (though that was always welcomed). the fact that you've made an impact on this kid by using your craft makes you only want to push more, strive to be greater. give her both something to remind her of your love, and a positive role model to look to.

she's finally able to close her mouth, giving a close-lipped smile and bring her hand to her chin to sign 'thank you.'

"you're welcome," you breathe out, before sitting yourself between jinx and isha on the couch. you reach an arm out for both of them to pull them into your sides. "those weren't easy to make, you know."

"so you've told me."

jinx replies, and you shake your head in mock resignation. isha, though, is pressing closer to you, one arm haphazardly wrapped around you while she continues to 'ooh' and 'aah' at her new jewelry.

"these feel so personal, you know." jinx murmurs, suddenly a bit more earnest. she's looking at her own ring herself, her gaze flitting between the glimmering hex crystal and you. "i mean, they are. they were made for us. but i don't know. it's... nice."

isha makes a 'hm' noise in agreement, jinx taking a deep breath.

"i like that it's just us. we're the only people in the world who have these rings, and we get to show them off. i think that's a pretty damn good selling point."

you hum, gently brushing your lips along the crook of jinx's neck before letting your head rest on jinx's shoulder. isha situates herself to lay across both yours and jinx's laps, her little hands folded over her stomach.

"it's like we're some kind of exclusive club."

jinx chuckles, coming to card her fingers through fluffy brown hair.

"or a family."

the girl pauses, her shoulders tensing for only a moment. a family. she'd never necessarily thought of it like that, having let go of the idea of ever having a family again long ago. but it's the perfect descriptor of your group without a doubt, and it feels like the right word to put to the moment you're having right now. her shoulders relax, a gentle smile gracing her features. isha reaches to squeeze one of jinx's hands in a show of silent support.

"...yeah. a family."

[yourabsolutemother]

At sundown Chapter 3

!!MDNI!!

Previous Chapter Here

Poly!141 x reader (omegaverse)

===

A/N: I know this took so long guys, I'm sorry lol. I busted out the rest of chapter two in one night, it was kinda crazy. It was also way longer than I had originally planned, but who's complaining? Let me know if Johnny’s accent is too hard to read, sometimes this translator does some crazy things. This one’s kinda all over the place but it’s kinda for a reason. Last thing! Let me know if you like the beginning of this, I kinda really hate it but I didn’t know what else to do

CW: Military inaccuracy, accent inaccuracy, possible lore inaccuracy, kitchen working inaccuracy, typical a/b/o sexism and classism, cursing, slightly suggestive, reader is referred to as they/them but is afab, but reader is referred to as a woman sometimes (I try my best to make it gender neutral but I’m not the brightest), everyone is kinda being unfaithful, cursing, Simon is mean ya know, slight stalking, a man being a creep, yelling/arguing, reader kinda has a panic attack, yelling

Chapter overview: Soap does some questionable things at the grocery store. Ghost and Price are grumpy

WC: 11.3k

===

Another new day in this hellhole you call a job. They have you running around like you’re the only one who knows what's going on. Sometimes you feel like you are the only one who knows what they’re doing, only to have some random person that’s never bothered to introduce themselves to you mansplain how to use a garbage can. Your boss even went as far as to make you drive an hour out of town to buy bulk ingredients, stating they needed too many things to be open. Of course you were the one they sent, instead of the person who’s literal job description is just that. And of course when you got back, it was your fault that the restaurant didn’t have enough servers. ‘Shouldn’t have taken so long’ was their excuse when you pointed out it was in fact their fault, not yours. You can wrap your brain around how people can be so ignorant and selfish. It feels like there are way more bad people in the world than there are good. It makes you wonder how much more the world could take.

By the end of the day, you’ve been cursed out by three tables, crayons thrown into your lower cut shirt by gross 11 year old boys whose moms have never taught them anything valuable a day in their life, belittled and more. You have serviced enough tables to make at least $300, but you’ve only made $150. Nobody is on your side today, the universe isn’t on your side today. But when is it ever? You’ve disappeared into the freezer to cry your eyes out too many times today to count. You know your manager will go through the cameras at the end of the day, which he does just to point things out about you, and you are going to get a call when you get home. Which you have told them repeatedly not to do, you don’t want to be bothered by work when you aren’t even there. Of course, they ignore this and constantly call and text you. One time, they threatened to fire you if you didn’t answer their calls, after one night when they couldn't find something and they deemed you the only person who knew where it was. You didn’t even know where it was.

Right now, you are putting the ticket in for your last table when a new coworker of yours comes over and leans against the beam that is near the computer. “Saw you running around like crazy today.” Is all that he says, his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes scan your body up and down, finally landing on your face. His eyes had lingered at your tits for a bit longer than you’d like and you remind yourself to never wear a shirt like this to work again. His British voice echos in your head like it is empty, your brain trying to find the right words to say. What would agitate him the least. He is met with your downturned eyes as you turn your head towards him. The scent of an alpha hits you immediately and you’re left frozen for a moment. You can’t just ignore an alpha.

Your hands start to shake as you pull the customer receipt out of the printer, grabbing a checkbook from the box right next to you. You let out an awkward laugh as you nod your head, sliding the receipt into the pocket on the inside. “Yeah, Jared needed some things done ASAP and I was the only one available.” You explain, looking at the small passage between this random coworker and where you need to go. “My name is Tyler by the woy.” He says, his tone sounding rather thirsty. You aren’t stupid, you know what he wants from you and you want nothing to do with it. Especially from an alpha.

You stiffly nod and start to move towards the small gap next to him, watching as he unfolds his arms. Your heart clenches in your chest as he reaches for you and firmly grips your shoulders, it's obvious he didn’t mean to grab you so hard from the way he loosens his grip and kinda pats where he grabbed. “You can’t just walk away without telling me your name.” He points out, trying to hide his aggression under a facade of a ‘nice guy’. You can see through his fake smile, through the facade he puts on. You know his ploy all too well and you aren’t about to fall for it. Be nice to the girl, make her fall for them, then reveal what a heart crushing, soul changing piece of shit they are. Not on your watch, at least as much as you could help it.

Despite how confident you are in your own head, on the outside you look like a mess. You are hunched over with your checkbook in hand, trying hard not to look at the alpha who is way too close for comfort. “Come on, Hun. Such a pretty little omega like ye must have a beautiful name.” He presses further, ignoring the quiet whimper that manages to escape your mouth. He can feel the fear radiating off of you and it intrigues him, his pupils dilate with interest.

“Omega!” Jared shouts from his office at the very back of the kitchen, right next to the back door. He loves to slip in and out of the building without telling anybody what's going on. It doesn’t matter too much when he’s coming in without notice, all we can do is accept the rest of the shift is going to be shit and get on with our lives. But when he leaves without telling anyone that he’s leaving, it can majorly fuck the place up and it has multiple times in the past. On one occasion, he knew someone from corporate was coming in to pose as a customer, but assumed at six o’clock that he ‘wasn't going to show up’. He left and the guy he was supposed to be waiting on showed up in the last hour our dinner courses were served in. We went to go find him only to find out that he wasn’t even there anymore. Corporate was pissed and took points off of whatever tracking list they have for their franchisee owners. It doesn’t stop him from continuing to do it.

You have never felt more relieved to hear Jared’s voice in your life. Your head perks up, looking over the shoulder of your new coworker in the direction of Jared's office. You nervously glance between there and the alpha that is looking at you expectantly while stammering. “I gotta go.” Quickly squeezing between him and the wall to get to Jared, checkbooks still in hand. You can feel the kitchen workers and Tyler's eyes on you as you scurry hurriedly to the back of the restaurant. “Yes, sir! I’m coming.” You can feel the anger coming from behind you, coming from the alpha that you’ve caught the attention of unknowingly.

Jared’s office is tiny, not meant for someone to be in there for very long enough. It looks like a big closet with a desk to the right of the door, three filing cabinets completely lining the back wall. Outside of the office, if you’re standing facing the office, the door to the back of the restaurant is to the left. Jared is a very large, very intimidating alpha. He is the only one that you ever really talk to, since you have to. You kinda just switch off your brain when you are talking to him, retreating into your mind to a time when you were forced to be around them for hours on end.

“Now tell me why in the hell you are spending all this time in the kitchen fucking checking out tickets, lollygagging around while these people are waiting!?” Jared’s loud and booming voice invades your ears and makes you wince, your head immediately lowering in a sign of submission. The feeling of relief you felt only moments ago from being pulled away from Tyler was quickly sucked from your body. “What- no of course not, sir.” You stammer out. It’s like a flip gets switched when you’re in arguments, you can’t seem to formulate the correct words to help your case. It is very rare that you are able to get them to start to believe you, but you also fold when they start to interrogate you. It just makes you so nervous that you can��t think straight and your brain gets all scrambled.

“Then why have you been back here for three minutes doing one thing!? Huh!?” He screams at you as you start to take sharp intakes of air. You are trying not to burst out into tears as he stands up and steps towards the edge of his desk. You are used to crying in front of him, embarrassingly so. Everyone here tends to make jokes about it ‘behind your back’ while literally right behind your back. “It’s a privilege for you to work here.” He reminds you, stalking toward you. Your brain goes empty and all you can think about is keeping yourself safe from the angry looking alpha that is coming right towards you. “Look around!” He barks, speaking rhetorically. “There isn' a single omega tha' works for me, you are the only one. You are so easily replaceable I won' even thinky twice abou' i'.” He growls as he towers over your shaking form.

You are holding the checkbook close to your chest, the checkbook you have yet to bring to the customer, looking up at as tears start to roll down your cheeks You are terrified that he is going to lunge at you and hurt you, but you know that you’re hopefully somewhat safe since there is a camera pointing right at the doorway you’re standing in. All you can do is nod, your wide eyes staring up at Jared as he continues to belittle you. Talking about how quickly he could fire you and all the things you have already done that he almost fired you for. He doesn’t hold back on his insults either, he cuts deep and on purpose too. He never once acknowledges the fact that you did things that aren’t on your job description for free today and on most days, but you aren’t about to bring that up to an alpha that is screaming in your face.

“now qui' your fuckin’ crying and ge' back ou' there!” He shouts, pointing over your shoulder towards the dining room. “And if i ge' a single complain' tha' you are crying, you’re fired!” He shouts again as you turn and scurry away from his office. You struggle to keep your emotions in check as you wipe your face of tears and prepare yourself for the trip to your table. You speed walk to the doors of the kitchen, with your head low so the kitchen staff can’t see the tears that they know are running down your cheeks. You take a deep breath once you are there and push through the door, your face immediately brightening up.

You spend the next three hours doing the most random tasks that you could ever think of, at Jared’s request of course. He didn’t stop the hosts from sitting people in your section while you are doing these things, in fact it feels like he told them to give you more. When you look around you can see that there are empty tables in other sections for way longer than they should be open. While in your section, a table would leave and it was like the busboy was waiting for them to leave, then a host would fill the table not even a minute later. You are in a constant battle between greeting customers and giving their checks, making your brain scramble from the switching. On top of that you have the weird ass requests that Jared is assigning you one after another.

Instead of hanging out in the kitchen like you normally would have when you have some downtime, you go to your jacket and get the emergency stash of cigarettes that you save specially for days like this one. Where you can’t see an end to your suffering. You grab your lighter as well and make your way to the back door, hoping Jared isn’t in his office so that he wouldn’t see you. It’s not like he is going to stop you from going on a smoke break. You hope. Thankfully you are able to get past the office and out the backdoor without any commotion from Jared, the cold air biting at your cheeks. It is cold outside, but you don't want to bother putting on a jacket when you are only going to be out here for a few moments. Hopefully the cold air will refresh your brain and the rest of your shift won't be as miserable. Unlikely. You put the cigarette in your mouth and hold the lighter up to the stick, watching and inhaling as the paper starts to burn. You’re able to put the lighter back in your pocket and take a drag before you hear the door open and a voice speak to you.

“Pretty omega like you shouldn’t be smoking, gonna ruin your pretty body.” The creep Tyler speaks out, his breath fogging in the air. You stop yourself from scoffing and just shrug, not even bothering to look at him. Your brain is far too overworked to even pretend to like someone right now. Shock fills your body when you feel Tylers fingers grasp the cigarette and take it from between your lips. You slowly turn your head to look at him, your hand still up like you are holding the cigarette and your eyes filled with a fiery anger. Tyler doesn’t seem to notice the anger, or maybe doesn’t care, he just smirks at you. Your eyes follow the cigarette as he drops it to the ground and snuffs it with his foot. “Just lookin’ out for you, hun. I’m sure you understand, it's my place as an alpha. Just like it's your place as an omega to obey and do as you're told.” He mansplains away while you play with the lighter in your pocket, wishing you could do something to him. He continues to talk to you, but you aren’t listening. You’re looking at his face, almost through your eyelashes, with the most uninterested look on your face.

“Look, babe.” The nickname slipped off his lips like nails on a chalkboard, making you want to immediately want to sock him in the face. “I know that you are mad at me for putting out your cig, but you gotta understand-” You cut him off with a hand to the face as he tries to reach for a piece of your hair. “I completely understand, there is no reason to speak to me like I am a child. Thank you very much.” You tell him, walking in front of him to go back inside when he grabs your wrist. “I don’t think that’s any way that you should be talking to an alpha, Hun.” He says through clenched teeth, trying to keep a charming smile on his face so that you don’t see him for who he actually is. “I mean, some of these alphas will seriously reprimand you for something like tha’.” He tells you as his grip slightly loosens up when he realizes how aggressive the grab may have seemed. He has to make sure he holds up this fake personality so he can lure you in, he doesn’t know you know. You can tell that when he says ‘some alphas’ he really means himself.

You don’t know what comes through you, the way that he has treated you, the first time ever meeting this man, and he has the audacity to act this way. It has you seeing red. You rip your arm out of his grip and walk away back inside. You’d rather not have a smoke break then be around this douche. “I have a pack.” You lie over your shoulder, glaring at him as the door opens and you step inside. The anger is deep in your chest, threatening to bubble out like it is a volcano waiting to erupt. You have to take deep breaths so that you don’t flip out.

As soon as the door closes behind you, the confidence stays outside apparently, because you can feel your chest tightening. You cover your mouth with a shaky hand and hold the spot he grabbed with your other. It was the first time in a long time that an alpha put their hands on you. You felt the aggression in his grab and then the way that his fingers loosened once he realized he was going to give himself away. Your moment is cut short by a noise coming from Jared’s office and not wanting anymore trouble with any alpha’s today, you are quick to scurry to the handwashing sinks. You wash your hands and make your way to your purse so you can spray yourself with perfume. You don’t want to go back to the dining room smelling like smoke. Luckily the spot they make you put your stuff is far enough away from the kitchen that you don’t have to worry about contamination. They probably planned it that way.

You take a moment to breathe before you are forced back into the muskiness of the restaurant. Even when alpha’s wore scent blockers, there was still this mucky scent. You find it repulsive and have to hold back your gags sometimes with how bad it is. You force a fake smile on your face and exit the kitchen, walking around your large section to see if anyone needs anything, to catch up on the lost time during your smoke break.

While you’re at one of the tables, a pack omega looks at your arm and nudges her beta, whispering something into their ear while motioning to your arm. You don’t notice the way the beta’s eyes become worried upon seeing the light redness that is forming on your arm from where Tyler grabbed you. “Hey, darling.” The beta greets you, cutting you off from a conversation with their alpha. Your eyes go to the beta’s, filling with dread as someone cuts off an alpha. “You’re not being..hurt at home, right?” They ask, their fingers brushing over the newly formed patch on your arm that is obviously someone else's doing. You are a little confused why they are so concerned over such a small injury, if you can even call it that, but grateful they were looking out for people. Your eyes go back to the alpha and he’s looking at you like he is waiting for an answer as well, not even bringing up the fact that his beta just interrupted us. It only serves to confuse you more.

The alpha raises his eyebrows as if to say ‘spit it out’, but for once from an alpha, it doesn’t feel mean. The worried look he tries to bury in his eyes is obvious to you, you aren’t used to it from people like him. You stutter for a moment before you take a deep breath and sigh, trying to collect your thoughts. “I ran into one of the shelves in the kitchen and I bruise easily, is all..”  You tell them nervously, not liking the feeling of all three of their eyes on you. It feels like they can see right through your lie. Your eyes cast down, but you can tell they are scanning your face to try and find any reason to not believe you. They stare at you for what felt like two minutes, it is closer to 10 seconds in reality, before the beta sucks on their teeth. “I believe them.” They tell their alpha, sitting back in their seat and taking a sip of their to-go cup you just gave them.

You feel like your face is lighter, like 10,000 pounds had been lifted from your chest as the alpha nods in agreement with his beta. “Okay, we believe you..” He says skeptically, his eyes squinting at you to try and get you to break. But you stay strong and smile warily at him, feeling uncomfortable under an alphas gaze. Your eyes widen when the alpha grunts and rubs his shin, his gaze shooting towards his omega across from him. “'eave her alone , you're scarin' the poor thin’.” Her Geordie accent slipping off her tongue like butter. You can hardly understand her, but her pack seems to have no trouble. The alpha almost pouts and huffs at her. “Just making sure they’re alright.” He grumbles, you can tell he kicks her under the table but much softer.

The beta rolls their eyes at their pack's antics and pulls their card out of their wallet, handing it to you in between two fingers. “Don’t be scared of Jessy.” The beta tells you kindly, their smile radiating as you take their card. “He’s a big teddy bear.” They continue, their eyes going to their alpha who is still ‘arguing’ with the pack omega in a hushed tone. You take that as your cue to leave and weave your way back through the crowd to the kitchen. You pray that Tyler isn’t in there, waiting for you like a creep

Once back in the kitchen, you are lucky to see that Tyler isn’t currently in there. You glance around a few times, as if trying to scope him out like he is hiding somewhere. You aren’t going to take any chances with a guy like him, he gives you the weirdest vibes on top of just being a garbage person. You don’t waste anymore time and check the table out, you feel like you’re moving faster than you ever have before when checking out a table. The idea that Tyler can come in here at any moment and try something with you again, and no one would care or stop him, is plaguing your mind. You can’t stop thinking about all the different ways that things can go wrong with a guy like him. He can end up doing horrible things to you and there is nothing you can do to stop him.

You scramble out of the kitchen as soon as you are done, booking it to the table, whose card and check you have. You have to angle your body to the side to fit through a few gaps between people, holding the checkbook close to your chest so no one can try to take it from you. Which has happened in the past, their whole meal came out of your paycheck along with the fee for having to get a new card. But luckily you get to their table without any problems. Setting the book down on the table you smile, a little warrily, at the alpha at the table. “I hope that you and the rest of your pack have a good day.” You say softly, hoping the others don’t take it as you trying to flirt with their alpha. That is the last thing you want from them.

The alpha looks at the check and then back at you with a confused look on his face, making your chest tighten for the hundredth time today. “Who gave you their card?” He asks, his face dropping into a more serious look, his voice dropping as well. You freeze, your mouth opening and closing almost like a fish as you try to fight through the fear that came along with seeing the sudden change in his demeanor. “Um, your beta did, sir..” You reply, your voice meek. You’re scared that the alpha is going to lash out in front of you, start yelling at his beta for paying for the meal without his knowledge. Jessy’s eyes shift to his beta, his eyebrows furrowed in displeasure. He just stares at him like that for a few seconds, glaring into his soul before his face lifts a little. “How many times have I told you, Malakia. I pay for everything and you guys just sit back and be pretty.” He complains, reaching over and flicking his beta on the arm. “How do you even have money in your card?” He asks, his eyes squinting in suspicion.

You take a sharp breath in and force a smile on your face as you try and calm your nerves. “Well, I hope you three have a great rest of your day.” You say, lacing your fingers together in front of you as you bid them farewell with a small nod of your head. You turn and walk briskly through the crowd, not wanting to intrude in their conversation about their finances. It was always the worst when couples or packs would talk about personal things in front of you. It happens why more than you were comfortable with. People even go as far as to talk about their sex life in front of you. Sometimes it feels like they're doing it just to make you uncomfortable.

You push through the swinging doors of the kitchen and are met by Tyler grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, darlin’” He greets you, stepping out of your way only to redirect his path to follow you. Your head lowers a little bit and you side eye him a bit, trying to put off the most uninterested vibe you can muster. You are wearing scent blockers so he can’t smell the souring of your scent, but you can feel it. Your chest always feels tighter and it feels like you are breathing smoke, thick air that makes your throat burn somehow. “It’s the end of my shift and I don’t have any more tables, I can’t stay to help you with anything if that's what you’re wondering.” You dismiss him entirely, your eyes watching in front of you now as you make your way to the lockers. “Actually, Jared wanted me to let you know that you need to stay for a double.” He says, his tone sounding overly remorseful, like he is actually mocking you. You can’t see his face, but you know that he has a dumb smirk on his face, watching as the horror dawns on your face.

Your head snaps towards him and you make eye contact before you have to look away, you ignore how you caught a glimpse of his smirk falling when you looked at him. “I already worked my double this week.” You explain to Tyler, your voice sounding a little frustrated. “I’m already working overtime, I don’t want any more hours.” You sigh out, your shoulders slouching in defeat. “Well, someone had to go home because they had a headache. We need someone to cover their spot.” He tells you, not budging on the subject. You don’t understand how someone who was so new already had so much more power and authority over you. “Who left?” You ask quickly, already knowing Jared screwed you over on purpose. You are his least paid employee, he loves sending people home and making you stay later so he doesn’t have to pay as much. “Ace.” He tells you. “It had to have been going on for an hour, he had to go home.”

You have to hold back a laugh of disbelief, nodding your head. Ace is a beta, of course he is allowed to go home like that. They would have killed you if it had been you that asked to go home because of a headache. “Whatever.” You mumble out as you turn on your heel and head to the host station to figure out what section is yours now. Tyler is left smirking at your displeasure, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. It is like it is burning holes in your skin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're practically in tears by the time that you get to your car, your shoulders are raised and your head is lowered so you can warm your cheeks with your jacket and scarf. You are quick to unlock your car because you had rushed out of the building to avoid Tyler being able to follow you. He unfortunately was also working a double tonight so I couldn’t get away from him, he was basically your shadow the whole night, following you around like a lost puppy at any chance he had. Expect it wasn’t cute and he was being so passively rude the entire time. You wanted to strangle him by the end of the shift, but that would get you fired and also arrested, so you resisted. As you’re getting in your car, you hear his grating voice from across the parking lot. He is just coming out of the building and he was quick to find you. “Hey! I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye! You ran off before I could say anything!” He is shouting from across the parking lot.

You’re glad that you had hair over your ears so later you can blame you ignoring him on the fact that you had earbuds in and couldn’t hear him. You quickly get in your car and sling your bag into the passenger seat of your car before you back out of the parking spot. He’s only halfway to your car before you start driving towards the exit, you’re glad because you wouldn’t put it past him to jump in front of your car to stop you from leaving. Luckily he doesn't have the space and just stands there staring at your car as you drive away, an almost shocked look on his face. You laugh at him and turn onto the road, driving towards home.

You’re almost relaxed as you’re driving home, as relaxed as an unmated omega could be in a world where they can hardly survive. But the feeling quickly leaves when your eyes spot the sign for the grocery store that you pass everyday. You groan out and hit your back on the seat a couple times before you change lanes to get into the turning lane for the grocery store. You totally forgot that you need to buy some things and you can’t put them off any longer, so you reluctantly find a parking spot and park your car.

You’re parked next to a car that has someone in it still, so you keep your eyes down as you get out of your car and walk in front of it since it's been backed into the parking spot. You can tell that the person inside the car looks up at you and watches you pass in front of their car, but you don’t think much of it. You would have done the same thing if someone had walked in front of your car. You don’t look up from the ground until you are inside of the store, in the cart lobby. It’s still cold in here despite the hot air that you can feel blowing from the vents. You always wondered how the workers that got them from the parking lot got them into the building. With how long they make the cart trains, it seems impossible.

You don’t realize that the person in the car you just passed was actually your neighbor, and he was now following you. Soap’s eyes are on you as he gets out of his car, walking a little far behind you so that you don’t think that someones following you. He’s not following you, he’s just… making sure you’re safe, making sure that you’re taken care of. He doesn’t want anything to happen to an unattended omega, he’d do it for anyone. He wouldn’t and he knows that, but he doesn’t want to feel like a freak as he watches you set your bag in the small cart you grab and make your way inside. Soap enters the lobby not too long after you did, you’re now inside of the store, and he completely ignores the cart that he needs to grab. He’s supposed to be getting groceries for the pack for the week and he’s not doing a very good job so far at doing that.

He follows you into the produce section, which is where you enter the grocery store. He watches you as you go over to the fruit section and start looking at the veggies on the shelves. You have to stand on your toes to look at the top shelves on the produce section, as it is just out of your eye sight. He pretends to look at the lettuce on the opposite side of the small section of the produce, angling his body so that he can easily see you without looking like he is actually looking at you. He wishes that he can go up to you, take your cart and do all the shopping for you. So that you wouldn’t have to lift a finger when you are so obviously tired.

Soap’s eyes soften as he watches you bow your head and quiver as a yawn rips through you, forcing its way out of your body. He usually thinks that people are unattractive when they yawn, but you look so cute when you do it. The way that you face scrunches up and the way that you can’t stop your body from shaking because of your yawn. He has to force himself to look away before someone, or you, catches him staring so intensely. He shakes his head and walks around to the middle isles, of course picking the one that is closest to where you are standing.

Soap can’t help but feel guilty as he goes through the store, following you from a distance so that you don’t get suspicious that he is following you. He watches as your hair slides down your shoulder, your arm reaching up to grab a bell pepper on the shelves. The way that your hand wrapped around the pepper. Because you are an omega, you are smaller than him and it shocks him to see the difference. He zones out while daydreaming about laying in bed, holding you close while he compares hand sizes with you.

He quickly snaps out of it and shakes his head, a cringe creeping onto his face. He can’t remember the last time he thought about something so sappy before. He looks back at where you just were, only to be met with some random man in your place. He freaks out for a moment before he gets a grip on reality. You probably just moved onto another section while he was distracted. After a quick glance around the store that he can see, he sees you at the bakery looking at some of the breads that they had left. This grocery store isn’t the best about freshness, they are too focused on having cheap prices to worry about the freshness of their produce and baked goods. That being known, the store is never really short on bakery items because getting the processed kind is cheaper and it lasts way longer. It just makes you feel special and you get the ‘fancy’ kind sometimes.

Soap walks over to the bakery and looks at the cheese that is on a display across from where you are standing. He stands on the other side so that he can look over the top of the display to look at you, and he can pretend he is looking at the cheese pretty easily. He holds a random piece of cheese in hand so that he isn’t caught following you around the store with nothing in his hands. He doesn’t know what kind of cheese he is holding, like it matters. All that matters to him at this moment is making sure that no alpha would put their filthy hands on what he has subconsciously decided he is going to protect. He can’t help it, your scent has helped him through nights when he is being stubborn and not sleeping with the pack over something silly that is bothering him. You may not know it, but he owes you.

You pick up a loaf of bread, looking at it for a moment before grabbing a bigger loaf. His gaze hardens at the thought of you having a pack. Having someone that won’t be able to protect you as well as can. All Soap can think about is how much better he can take care of you. To him, it seems like the people who he assumes are your packmates don’t take care of you. Anytime that he sees your roommate or Jasmine, he can’t help but scowl. He despises them for what he believes they have done to you. You deserve to be treated like you’re the last omega in the world, like the ground that you walk on is sacred. He’d make you feel like you are everything. Because you are.

He follows you around to the back of the store where the seafood is, and down one of the aisles that's across from the seafood counter. There are long freezers in the middle of the main aisle at the back of the store, Soap stands at the end cap of the one across from the aisle you are on. You’re looking at the chips, looking over the brands on tortilla chips. One hand is twirling a piece of your hair between a few of your fingers, your wrist twisting as you exchange the hair between your fingers. Your lips are formed into a pout as you try to figure out which brand is the best for you to buy.

Soap is ripped from his thoughts by his phone ringing in his pocket, which he ignores. He doesn’t want to look away from you, it is like he is in a trance. You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and slightly bend over to grab a bag of chips, putting it in the cart before moving down the aisle. You walk slowly down, your eyes scanning the shelves for anything that might catch your eye. You tend to forget things if you don’t write them down, but you can never really remember all that you need in order to write it down. Most of the time, you just end up walking through the store and hoping you get everything that you need. It almost always ends with not having half the things you went for, and having tons of things that you’ll use or eat. It is why Jasmine always does the shopping. That and she has more money than you do.

You hear a groan coming from the other end of the aisle, you turn your head and see a familiar face. Your neighbor. But this time, you don’t feel as panicked as before when you’ve noticed him from your driveway. Being this close to him, you can tell that he’s a beta, not an alpha like you had expected. It surprises you, since he is so tall and had the muscles that he did. Most beta’s are like a mid size, not as small as omegas but not as big as alphas. Your neighbor broke this standard way further than you have seen anyone do before. He is a sight to see. You can help but feel an appreciation for betas his size, you hoped he’d make a wonderful beta to a woman alpha. You always love to see it, two people who are not the norm find normalcy in each other's weirdness. That is love to you, it's what it is all about.

On the other end of the aisle, Soap pulls out his ringing phone and looks at the caller I.D. seeing the words ‘captain’ on his screen. He swipes his thumb over the green answer button, bringing the phone up to his ear. “I'm shopping, John. What's botherin ye?” He grumbles into the phone, looking at the chips in front of him before turning his attention back on you. He is annoyed that John is interrupting him when he is so engrossed in watching you. He just needs to make sure that your shopping trip isn’t ruined by anyone, he wants you to have a nice peaceful time. He wants to be there for you, because he cares. “Did you hear me, Johnny?” A gruff voice echoes from the other side of the phone, breaking him away from you once more.

All John gets back from Soap is a distracted sounding “Aye.” followed by the sound of shuffling and a muffled “Excuse me.” of Soap squeezing by an older lady on a motorized shopping cart that almost blocked his path to follow you. Luckily he quickly turned his body and made it through. He keeps his eyes on you, drilling into the back of your head as you make a right turn to go up the next aisle. “Johnny!” John barks from the other side of the phone, annoyance evident in his voice. “Wha' the hell are you doing? Are you even listening to me?” He asks, his tone accusatory towards Soap.

Soap huffs and backs off of you for a moment, remembering quickly that his mate is more important than the omega next door at this moment. He can make sure you’re safe once he is done talking to his alpha. Who is not only the reason he has a job, but is the reason he keeps it. John has single handedly saved Soaps careers more times than he can count at this point. It is honestly laughable. “I’m sorry, i'm here. Whit were ye saying?” He asks, taking a moment to look at the kitchen tools that are at the end of this aisle. He knows Gaz would appreciate new cookware, he always does “Ghos' needs you to come home soon, he doesn' seem very happy with you. Something abou' no' keeping your promises.” John explains to Soap sounding a bit frustrated with him, rightfully so. Soap lets out a long sigh and nods his head, which John obviously isn’t even able to see. “Bastard niver forgets anythin’.” He grumbles under his breath, which John heard and responded to with a low warning growl.

The last few days, John and Ghost have been way stricter than they had ever been. Soap and Gaz are hardly allowed to touch each other without their approval. It bothers the two betas because they know that it isn’t normal behavior for their alphas, but they don’t know what to do to help. They’ve tried everything they can think of at this point, they are out of ideas. Soap tried acting more submissive, but they got upset that he wasn’t acting like himself. Ghost complained that if he wanted someone submissive, he would’ve chosen someone smaller. He feels like submission did Soap's physique wrong, didn’t show off his body the way that Ghost liked, the way that Ghost knows Soap deserves to be seen. Gaz had tried sparring with them, that ended with his face smushed against the floor for an hour while the alphas had their way with him, consensually of course. They didn’t feel any better after any of these attempts, it usually only fueled them to make them more agitated than before. It makes the betas feel as though they aren’t good enough at their roles, that they aren’t worthy mates and aren’t worthy of their title of beta.

“I'm sorry, cap. I'll be home soon. The store is crowdit today.” Soap fixes his tone quickly, making a mental note that he’ll deal with those consequences when they arrive in front of him. “That’s better. Be safe.” John dismisses him, not even waiting for a response before hanging up the phone. Soap is left standing in the kitchenware and baking aisle, looking at stuff that he doesn’t even know what half is. He clears his throat to keep his emotions in check, swallowing a few times to control his tears. He doesn’t feel like he should be so emotional over something like this, he knows they’ll be okay, they always are. But they all know the risks of having a pack with more than one alpha that also doesn’t have an omega. They know that their relationship is fragile and that they have to be careful, they have been careful. Soap just needs things to be better again.

He sighs and makes his way to the opposite side of the aisle, at the back of the store. He grabs a bag of gummy bears off the shelf while he makes his way to find you. While he’s walking, he can’t help but realize how weird he is acting. He kept looking down the aisles like he is looking for someone he knows, someone who actually knows he exists. He remembers the times that you have scurried away from him, looking all scared and panicky. But his heart really clenches when he thinks about his pack. His pack is struggling and here he is getting so distracted by some random omega that he can’t even shop for his family. He groans and shoves the bag of gummy bears on the shelf before booking it out of the store. His pack needs him right now, more than you need his protection. You've done it countless times before, you can do it again.

He serves through the crowd, shoulder checking a few people on the way to the entrance of the store. He can hear the people scoffing and confronting him about running into them. He doesn’t give them the time of day as he books it through the door and towards his car. He practically tore his car out of that parking lot, he wouldn't be surprised if there are black tire marks on the asphalt where he had driven. The whole ride home, he can’t stop wondering if he is a bad mate, oogling over someone that isn’t in his pack and lying about it straight to his mates faces. Someone who he hasn’t even had a conversation with yet. He had spent well over half an hour stalking you through a grocery store under the guise that he was protecting you. While his actions were commendable, they aren’t when you don’t even know the person, especially when that person has run to hide from Soap in the past. He wasn’t painting a pretty picture for himself, but he can’t seem to bring himself to let go of you. The thought alone of leaving you to your own devices and not knowing if you are safe and cared for sent a shiver of unease down his spine, making him cringe and grumble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your hands are numb by the time that you pull into your driveway, having to go to the grocery store by yourself and then having to drive home took a toll on you. You had almost cried on your way home but had to stop yourself so that you could actually see the road. Jasmine wasn’t able to go grocery shopping for the two of you because she was busy, and your roommate buys his own food. You usually go with Jasmine and have her to lean on, but she couldn’t so you were forced to go by yourself  this time. But after a few deep breaths, you are able to calm yourself enough to get out of the car, making sure to pop the trunk before you close the door.

When you’re rounding the corner to the back of your car, you make eye contact with the man from the store, your neighbor. Since you were able to catch his scent in the store, you knew that he isn’t an alpha. And while this does lower your anxiety around him, he is still a stranger. His eyes look a little tired, glistening around the edges as his eyes scan your face. You can tell that something is bothering him, but it’s not your place and again, he's a stranger. But his tired face turns excited at the sight of your eyes meeting his, starting to make his way over to you. He walks like he doesn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just been sulking before he saw you.

You return his smile with a cautious wave, holding onto your bag that is slung over your shoulder. “Hi, neighbor!” He greets you cheerfully, stepping a bit into your personal space while he juts his hand out for a handshake. You start to smell freshly cut grass and are confused, no one had cut their grass today, it had been too cold in the past few weeks to even consider it. You’re confused for a moment before you realize that it’s your neighbor. You are closer than you had been in the store and now you are able to get a good read on what he truly smells like. His scent is so comforting due to him being a beta, that your hands start to gain feeling again. You look at his hand and then back at him, like you don’t know what to do, but quickly take his hand for a handshake. “Hello.” Your voice is soft and meek, like you are too afraid to speak too loudly at him.

Soap can’t stop beaming, his smile is bright and goofy. He’s just so excited to be able to formally meet you after spending so much time daydreaming about what you’re like. And after he stalked you through the store. He wasn’t expecting you to be so shy once he’d put himself out there for you, but he finds it adorable. He finds everything about you adorable. From the way you slightly rock on your heels, to the way that your eyes shine in the sunlight when you look at him. He can’t stop staring at your face and memorizing every detail.

 He gets snapped out of his thoughts by you clearing your voice, your eyes shifting to the ground as he reels back into reality. “Neit help wi thae bags?” He asks, already reaching out to grab a bag from your open trunk. You try to protest, but he’s already taking bags into his hands. “You really don’t have to do that.” You tell him, your voice coming out a little rushed as you watch the beta get all of the groceries out of your car. “Really, I can do it.” You rush out as you try and slide your smaller fingers under his fingers to grab the bags from him. He only shushes you and steps back to walk away. You quickly close your trunk and follow him with quick footsteps so you can keep up.

When your fingers touch his, he swears he feels his pupils widen. Your skin is so soft and warm against his calloused skin; your touch is so light despite the fact that you are trying to snatch your grocery bags out of his hand. He tries to compose himself as he brushes past you and towards your front door, he can feel the heat in his body threatening to raise to his skin to make him blush. You’re trailing behind him, a worried look on your face as you try and convince him that you don’t need his help. He doesn’t listen though, he ignores you as he stops in front of your door, waiting for you to open it.

You look worried as you shakily get your house keys out, sliding the key into the slot. Through your worried thoughts on how you are going to get him to not come into your home, he spoke up. “I’m no comin i, stop worryin. A can smell it on ye.” And you can feel your body relax as you open up the door. You’re usually not so quick to trust, but there is something about this beta that is different. He just feels so welcoming and warm, you can’t help but want to get to know him more. But you know that he comes from a unique pack, and you know that his alphas would not be happy if he comes home smelling like the omega next door.

Soap sets the bags just inside the door and watches as you step inside as well. He can tell that your movements are very calculated around him, like you are making room for him instead of making room for the both of you. He can tell that you are fragile, he doesn’t blame you. He can only imagine how hard it must be to live in a world that is rooted against you. You are considered the lowest of the low in society, but not in his eyes. In his eyes, you are perfect. He can tell that you aren’t comfortable in your own skin, but he thinks you were sculpted by the gods, inside and out.

You grab the door and swing it closed a bit, standing just at the opening to say goodbye to your helpful and handsome neighbor. You’d rather close the door in his face and go hide in a closet for two hours, but you have things to do and that would be rude. So you muster up the courage to actually speak to him again. “Thank you for helping me, you really didn’t have to do that.” You tell him softly, having a hard time looking at him in the eyes. You feel your eyes widen as his fingers go under your chin and tilt your head up to look at him. “Come on now, ye don’t have tae hide from me.” He reassures you as he retracts his hand, a soft and crooked smile on his face. “An it wis na problem, an omega like ye shouldn’t be doin things like thon.” He tells you, and you can tell that he doesn’t mean it in a mean way. He means it in a supportive way.

Soap glances over his shoulder and lets out a little huff, his fists clenching a bit at his sides before he looks back at you. “e let me know gin ye iver neit help. Okay, little ane?” His voice is serious, like he would be offended if you didn’t come over and get him the next time you need something. You nod and start to close the door, giving him a polite wave before slowly closing the door. Once the door was closed, you turned and pressed your back against the wood, your eyes scanning the house before you. Your roommate isn't in his normal spot anymore and you can hear Jasmine’s footsteps making her way down the stairs to help you unload the groceries.

“I heard a voice.” She states as she steps onto the hardwood with her sock covered feet, padding over to you at the door. “Sounded like a man.” She adds, wiggling her eyebrows at you. Your face immediately erupts into a blush, shaking your head dismissively as you stutter over your words. You don’t know what you can say that will be able to save you here. “It was the neighbor, he wanted to help me carry the groceries in.” You tell her, your voice shaking a bit more than you are comfortable with. You quickly bend over and gather a few bags into your hands and carry them to the kitchen, hoping that you can get away from Jasmine’s interrogation. Jasmine follows you with the rest of the bags and continues to pester you about it. You should’ve known better, she never gives up.

“Come on, you never talk to anyone and I heard you speak more than two words.” She exclaims just loud enough for you to hear, not wanting the mysterious roommate to hear your private life. You purse your lips and start to unload a bag. “We saw each other in the store, he’s a beta.” You tell her with a shrug, your voice quiet. You are caught off guard when she takes the cans you have in your hands into hers and pushes them to the side. “Spill.” She demands, her eyes squinting at you as a blush forms on your face.

“I don’t know, Jas. I felt comfortable around him..” You tell her, rocking slightly back and forth on your heels. “..I guess he’s cute, but he has a pack already.” You explain, continuing your train of thought. “He has two alphas. It would never work out anyways.” You say dismissively, shrugging her hands off of your shoulders. She has a smirk on her face, feeling victorious finally getting the information out of you. “You never know, hun. Things could turn around in the end.” She tries to perk you up, not wanting this to discourage you from going after you want. This is the first time that you’ve shown interest in someone other than people from the tv shows that you watch. She hopes that if things end up not working, that it won’t stop you from forming a bond with someone in the future. She knows how hard it can be to not get what you want so badly, and being so close to having it too.

The room is silent, other than the sound of bags rustling and things being put away, as you clear the room from the grocery bags. It doesn’t take the two of you long to unload the groceries since you didn’t get too much. Being inside of crowded stores by yourself makes it feel like your head is full of water, everything becomes overwhelming so you can’t stay long enough to get a lot. “Thank you for getting the groceries.” Jasmine says as she wraps her arms around you, squeezing tight to give you some compression. She can tell that you had a rough day, and then having to go to the store on top of that made it that much worse. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t go, work went on later than I thought it would.” She apologies, her voice muffled by your head as she presses her relaxed lips against your head.

You can feel the tension from the day start to leave your body as you are comforted by a familiar beta. You can tell that she is projecting her scent to help you calm down, her enhanced cinnamon scent almost burning your nose. While Soap helped you calm down after the store, he wasn’t able to wipe that discomfort from your body like Jasmine can. You are forever grateful for having her in your life, she has become your rock in the last years, helping you become the best version of yourself while supporting you when you mess up along the way. She is the best friend that everyone wishes they had, it felt like a miracle that your two paths crossed and intertwined. “It’s the least I could do, you are so helpful to me all the time..” You mumble as you tuck yourself against her as she holds you tight. It feels like she is squeezing all the worries out of you.

The two of you stand like that for a long while, only pulling away when a loud shout is heard through the wall. It is the booming voice of an alpha, it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your eyes widen. Jasmine covers your ears quickly and smiles reassuringly at you as she waits for the alpha next door to stop. Your hands go to cover her hands with yours, pressing harder on her hands to block out the sound further. It takes a few minutes, but they eventually calm down and Jasmine uncovers your ears, brushing some hair out of your face. “You’re okay.” She reassures you. “Sounds like he was upset that his beta wasn’t spending time with him.” She explains, pulling away and stretching her arms a bit.

You start to feel guilty, knowing that you had taken up some of this beta’s time, this beta that has an alpha. You look at the ground and you can tell that your scent sours again when Jasmine cups your face. “It isn’t your fault.” She tells you firmly. “He shouldn’t have helped you if he knew it would upset his alpha. That isn’t your fault.” She states, pinching your cheek to get you to perk up. You grumble at that and swat away her hand. “What have I told you about pinching my cheeks?“ You huff as you push her hands away further. Jasmine just smiles, relieved that she was able to help you calm down so easily. You cock an eyebrow at her as she just continues to smile at you, making her throw her hands up in surrender.

Jasmine feels bad that the only person that you seem to show an interest in has two alphas. She knows how hard it is for you to function when there is an alpha around, having two in the same household with you seems impossible. She’s tried her best in the past years that you two have known each other to get you to open up around alphas. But, your past with alphas is hard to forget and there seems to be nothing that Jasmine can do to make you feel better. She gave up eventually, and ended up just accepting the quirk that you have. You are able to make it through life without it being too inconvenient for you, while it is hard and sometimes frustrating when an alpha doesn’t get the hint.

You can feel your ears perk up slightly when the roommate comes out of his room and comes to sit in his normal spot. You squint your eyes and then give Jasmine the side eye as if to ask ‘what’s with him?’ She shrugs her shoulders and rolls her eyes and motions for you to come closer. You’re standing near him, and the roommate, who you still don't know the name of, has given Jasmine no reason to trust him. You are quick to listen to Jasmine, not questioning her for a second. You step towards his and grab her hand for comfort.

He’s never once tried to help in any of the house responsibilities or tried to help either of the two of you with emotional needs, which isn’t quite normal for a beta that is in such close quarters with other people. Most betas and omegas take on the responsibility to help in these kinds of situations, even if they are not in a pack together. The place that you live in will be peaceful if you take care of the things inside of it. The only exception to this unspoken rule you can think of would be if he is in a rival pack, but he lives with two random strangers and doesn’t have any marks on his neck so he’s not in a pack. Nothing about this man makes sense to you or Jasmine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soap watches as you turn slightly and the door closes softly, he can’t help the smile that covers his face. He can tell that he makes you a little nervous, but he can’t help himself from teasing someone as cute as you are, even just a little bit. He turns on his heels and walks with a newfound energy towards their side of the conjoined building. He walks across the top of the driveway, having to squeeze his muscular body between the garage door and car that was parked there. It was probably Gaz's, the man never drove his own car, he either had the others drive him, or borrowed one of their cars for the day. It was frustrating, but the three of them can’t resist that slight pout that comes to his pretty lips when they get upset at him.

Soap reaches the door and pushes it open, smiling as he enters the house, stepping into the small entryway that has only a table and a mirror. The boys were never too keen on decorating, only doing what they needed. He closes the door behind him and he doesn’t even make it five five steps into the kitchen before he feels a hard chest against his back and an angry puffing breath against his ear. From the vanilla and mahogany scent turned moldy, Soap could tell that it is Ghost that is angrily making himself known. “Care to explain why you smell like an omega?” Ghost growls out, his hands going to grip Soaps elbows tightly. “Why..” He takes a deep breath. “It’s recen’.” He growls lowly.

Soap feels panic rising in his chest, feeling as though he’d been caught. If it were normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be so nervous that Ghost was mad. But he’s been flirting with you, trying to touch you when he shouldn’t even really be talking to you with how worked up the boys have been recently. “Um.., yeah.” Soap hesitated, his voice coming out a little squeaky at first. “She wis takin the groceries inside aw bi herself.” He explains, trying to move his arms so that he can reassure Ghost with his touch. Ghost doesn’t budge, he only lets out a warning growl to let Soap know that he is exactly where he wants him to be.

Ghost can feel his anger growing and swelling inside of his chest, he feels like he can’t control himself. He huffs and puffs for a moment, his grip tightening on Soap’s elbows. “Are you fucking kidding me, Johnny?” Ghost asks, making Soap’s heartbeat pick up. He knows that Ghost would never hurt him, but after seeing what he’s like when torturing someone for information and on top of his guilt behind the situation, Soap can’t help but get nervous around him when he’s this angry. “You barely fricking greeted me when came home from training the other day because you had to take care of price. Which is fucking peachy. Bu' then you go on a date with him so he can ‘make i' up to you’! meanwhile, i’m over here pulling my damned hair ou' because i can’' ge' a single piece of attention from either of my betas!” Ghost rants, his voice increasingly getting louder the longer he talks.

His grip on Soap’s arm is tightening with every second that passes, starting to become painful. “Ow, Simon..” Soap quietly complains, trying to softly tug his arms out of Ghost’s grip. Ghost immediately lets go and starts to pace around, his hands going to his hair. Soap turns around to face him with a worried look on his face. It isn’t normal for Ghost to act like this. “Then you go to the store to buy food from the store, your alpha even called you while you were quite! no' only did you hardly pay attention to him while he was quite talking, you came home empty handed!” He shouts, stopping to point a finger at him accusingly. “And then you come home smelling like the omega nex' door! because she needed help!” He mocks. “She has a pack literally inside her house!” Ghost reminds Soap

All soap can do is stand there with a guilty look on his face, nodding along with Ghost’s yelling. “You better hurry your sorry arse  to Price's office.” Ghost growled, his voice low. “You better be thankful he’s dealing with you, i wouldn’ have gone so easy.” He tells Soap, glaring at him as he slithers around him and scurries up the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @Horny-bish @Wizzdot @the-loneyest

Please put your age in your bio if you want to be added :)

A/N: really sorry about the wait this time guys. I had this all planned out and was working on it nonstop just for my dog to stop walking. It was crazy. She’s doing a lot better now, she’s pretty wobbly on her feet but we don’t have to help her walk anymore.

[willowcried]

i'm a huge dianna agron + quinn fabray lover so ofc i'll indulge you :3

was thinking about your vampire!quinn post. vampire!quinn and then vampire!skank!quinn UGH. has you straddling her in the backseat, her bedroom, hell, maybe she's got you against the wall of the bathroom, whatever. nails leaving white streaks on your hips, sucking hickies into your throat, not giving a shit whatever bullshit excuse you'll feed to your boyfriend later even though you both know her strap is better than his small dick'll ever be. being careful with fangs at first, but then you bite at your lip and draw blood and quinn just can't help it anymore.

she's only fed from you on a few occasions before this, maybe never if you're into the 'you taste divine addicted to your blood' thing. eyes rolling into the back of her head when she cums hard, you following shortly after from the pain and pleasure. whining and pushing at her weakly when she starts rutting up into you again, begging her to slow down, but oh, just take it baby.

this was a little filthly but! :3

— 🪽

"mm, baby, you smell so fucking good," she purrs against your throat, tongue flicking over a fresh bruise she just had to leave there. like a brand.

your fingers curl in her hair, tugging, but she just chuckles, gripping your hips tighter. you can feel the sharp press of her rings against your skin, the lazy drag of her nails over your thighs, up, up—

her hands are everywhere—trailing up your spine, gripping your thighs, pinning you in place. she noses against your jaw, lips dragging over your pulse, and god—you can feel her fangs, just barely grazing.

"let me bite you," she whispers, more plea than demand.

like you were ever gonna say no.

oh, she's had you before. a few times, here and there—just a taste, just enough to leave you lightheaded and gasping, clutching at her as she soothed over the marks with that cool, perfect tongue of hers. and she swore, swore every time, that she'd be careful. that she'd take care of you.

but then you had to go and bleed for her.

you had to bite your lip—just hard enough to break the skin. just enough for her to smell. and now she's shaking with the effort of holding back, nostrils flaring as she grips your hips hard enough to bruise.

but can you blame yourself? her shaft moves so deliciously inside you, every slow roll of her hips making your breath stutter. you just didn't want everyone outside your room to hear how good she was stretching you out. you bit down to keep quiet.

"please. let me." she whines against your neck.

and fuck—quinn begging?

you tilt your head, just enough for her to press a kiss against your throat. just enough to tell her "fine. fuck. do it."

your gasp is sharp, swallowed up by quinn's palm over your lips. the sting is brief—just a second of discomfort before something deeper takes over, something molten and dizzying that spreads from the bite like wildfire through your veins.

and she groans when she tastes you, a sound so needy, so starved, that it makes your head spin worse than the blood loss usually does after a while. you know what you're doing is forbidden, that your mind flashes with the reminder of him—your boyfriend, who's always been there, always so good—but in that raw moment, as her fangs graze your skin and her lips claim you with desperate intensity, all you do is move your hips, meeting hers. it’s sticky, wet, and they clap together.

you can't see, but by the guttural sound she lets out when you do, her eyes roll to the back of her head. her grip tightens—fingers digging in, pulling you closer, making sure there's no space between you, no room for second thoughts. her other hand presses harder over your mouth, smothering the little noises escaping you.

she moans low when she becomes rougher, her legs trembling, her hips twitching in wild, desperate spasms before she finally stops with one last deep thrust. the adrenaline of cumming inside you makes her instincts go crazy—her fangs sinking impossibly deeper into your neck, sending a sharp, searing jolt through you. it’s what tips you over the edge, the pain making you cum.

with a slow, almost tender motion, she pulls her fangs out—careful not to hurt you as the intensity threatens to overwhelm both of you. her mouth drips with your blood, and hell, what a sight.

you can’t help yourself—you lean in, capturing her lips in a kiss that tastes of your own mingled desire, the heady tang of blood and sweat binding you together.

"freak," she whispers with a mocking tone, her lips brushing against yours—like the action alone didn’t make her horny again. like she isn’t about to fuck you again.

[batsplat]

On the one hand I definitely agree that Marc’s absence doesn’t take anything away from titles won but on the other I would absolutely understand if Joan and Fabio especially (Pecco less, I think… the bike… they all know about Honda beginning to fail, right? At some point ig you could say even a pre-Jerez Marc Marquez wouldn’t have ridden that to a championship and it is in Pecco’s best interest to put that point into 2022) would forever consider their titles borrowed off “luck” because I also think everyone ASSUMING if Jerez didn’t happen, Marc would have won 2020 and likely also 2021 isn’t exactly wrong. He won 3 whole races in 2021 (however he did that), that’s more than anyone else but Pecco and Fabio who finished second and first… as Max said, if is a stupid concept in sport, but the if in question is not a regular “if”, and the whole grid knows it. Hell, we are all aware that had Jerez been simply milder instead of the horror it became, Marc’s achievements would look different at this time… So that’s definitely very interesting to me, that any winning done in Marc’s continued absence from the top seems asterisked by the riders’ own attitudes. That him being on that Ducati this year helps, even a little, to alleviate a bitterness that seemed settled whenever he missed a race. It’s a true win only if you beat Marquez, because Marquez is the one to beat. I wonder if that’s what 2010 felt like to the then-grid, when Vale broke his leg… that winning didn’t even count properly, bc Valentino was not there to make it real.

yeah, listen, if marc had been uninjured in 2020, he would have won the title. I'm not arguing that bit, I'm saying it doesn't matter. marc's injury wasn't some kind of freak accident... it was unfortunate, but it was also unsurprising, and his comeback going wrong even more so. this is what you have to remember about sports but especially motorcycle racing: you are placing heavy demands on your body, and sometimes the excess demands are directly correlated to your success. in this post, there's some quotes from 2019 about how 'lucky' marc is... because he was crashing so so much outside of races to find the limit of the bike - and yet it didn't hurt his results (obviously he was still injured a lot, yearly off-season surgeries and all that). this was part of his approach and it was obviously a very successful one. and in some ways it is also one that was necessitated by the characteristics of that honda, which at this stage only he could tame... but it is true that if a lot of other riders crashed at that rate, they would've been considerably worse off, and it was a part of the process that allowed him to be so successful. and it did already make a lot of people very uneasy at the time, because it felt like eventually it just... had to go wrong. it's also worth noting that... yes, marc's achievements would look different if the injury hadn't been that bad. but the initial injury wasn't 'that bad' relatively speaking - it was his decision to come back that really fucked him over. I strongly believe he shouldn't have been allowed to race, but it was still his decision, and it was part of a tradition of ridiculously fast injury comebacks that had also helped make him so successful in past years (though fwiw this one immediately felt like a bad idea, zero hindsight needed I promise you). so let's put it like this: if you keep putting your body under incredible strain even by motogp standards to reach the level of success you do, and eventually your luck runs out, eventually you land badly on the wrong side of the risk/reward calculation... then how is it fair to say your competitors should be handed asterisks in your absence?

in 2018-19 everybody (including valentino) expected that marc would surpass valentino's titles. few expected him to last at the top of the sport for as long as valentino did. valentino during his prime crashed far far more rarely than marc did and was battering his body considerably less... for marc, there was always the question of how long this could last. he was punishing his body for his particular brand of brilliance, but this always had to be a trade-off. it wouldn't have been surprising if his career had ended through injury, though of course how 2020 played out still ended up being a shock. but!! at the end of the day, even without marc's particularly risky style of racing, you wouldn't need an asterisk. the comparison to 2010 is an interesting one, because you can tell that jorge was at times extremely eager and determined to stress that he wasn't just benefiting from valentino's absence. in the dorna-produced docu for his title, he emphasises that he was already leading the points when valentino broke his leg at the fourth race of the season... which is true, but a) valentino also wasn't leading the championship in the early stages of the two previous years either, and b) valentino was already managing injury. the eruption of that icelandic volcano meant motegi had to be rescheduled, which gave valentino the opportunity to go and get his shoulder injured in a motocross accident (again, for the question of training risk/reward see the post I linked to above). it was this injury that quite probably caused the next one... and troubled him more in late 2010 and early 2011 than the leg did. it also set off the chain of events that allowed jorge to gain ascendancy internally in yamaha, which is part of the reason why valentino decided to go to ducati and essentially took himself out of title contention for... well, two ducati years, and another year where he still wasn't quite up to speed on the yamaha. stop the volcano from erupting and motogp quite plausibly looks very different for the next few years

the question of whether valentino wins the 2010 title without injury is far more open than whether marc would've won 2020, but at worst you have to call it about 50/50 - and even with the troublesome shoulder valentino was getting the better of their actual wheel-to-wheel fights in late 2010. so that title fight too was severely influenced by one rider's bad luck, one that you can't even trace back to a particularly risky riding style... but on the other hand, eventually everyone's luck runs out, and valentino had been relatively lucky for a long time. he was also getting older, which in itself will affect recovery time. this is how athletes' competitive life cycles go, right - yes, you might lose your physical edge, yes, you might struggle to find the same fire, but you have also demanded a lot from your body for a very long time and eventually you pay the price. eventually, every athlete's era has to end... and unfortunately in grand prix motorcycle racing, a lot of the time that era ends with injury. schwantz and rainey were long-time rivals, with rainey winning three consecutive titles at the start of the nineties. in 1993, they were again locked in a title fight - until rainey crashed and was left in a wheelchair, his career ended and the title handed to schwantz. that was schwantz's only title, but he's still considered one of the greats of the sport. doohan and criville were teammates when doohan was dominant, and it took doohan's career-ending injury during the third race of the 1999 season for crivi to finally win the title. kenny roberts jr won the title in the following season in what was a chaotic year not dissimilar to 2020... from the young star who wasn't quite ready to put together a title charge to the underdogs at suzuki eventually claiming the big prize. this is how it goes... what a champion needs on their side as much as anything else is luck. jorge wasn't crashing as much as marc was in 2013, and yet somehow he ended up with the broken collarbone at assen that severely damaged his title chances - because sometimes, it only takes one crash for it all to go wrong. does that mean marc is an undeserving title winner in 2013? of course it doesn't!

in the case of 2020, when it became increasingly clear marc would not be winning this title, it's not like everyone's minds immediately went to mir. the favourites were dovi, fabio, vinales... the thing is, right, it was an absolute mess of a season (that was also of course seriously impacted by the pandemic), but someone had to be the one to take advantage. the suzuki was a well-settled package and mir after a strong rookie season was the one to put in the consistent results to claim the title. he was already highly rated going into motogp, and he was absolutely seen as a potential star of the future. for his sake and his reputation within the sport, of course it would've been preferable to win a more emphatic title... and in some ways, his 2021 on a lagging suzuki is more impressive than the 2020 title. it's an incredible shame how his career has gone since then, mostly not through his own fault, and you still want to hope he'll have the opportunity to dispel a few more doubts - both from the fans and quite possibly himself. then again, hayden won two races in 2006, kenny roberts jr three in 2000... at the end of the day, the main thing new fans know now is that they were champions, and so it will one day be for mir too. moving on to 2021, it's worth remembering that by then the honda was already a bad bike. yes, marc would undoubtedly have been the title favourite - but two of his three wins that year were at his specialist circuits that also still suited the honda, basically the places where he could win with his eyes closed. at the very least, you have to believe 2021 would have had a proper title fight and wouldn't just have been a stroll in the park for marc - yes, quite probably he would have prevailed anyway, but it's really not so cut and dry

THAT BEING SAID. I do agree with much of this ask! it is interesting that it's asterisked in the riders' minds! but it shouldn't be - that's the devil talking, you need to stand up for yourself and ignore all the doubters and get on with it. jorge had enough self confidence and stubborn belief in his own ability that this discourse in 2010 did nothing but piss him off. in 2007, casey was incredibly sick of people talking down his title because of how good the ducati was that year and the tyre difference between him and valentino. yes, casey was on the better package that year, and valentino did clearly benefit from switching tyres in 2008. does that in any way detract from casey's title? no! it doesn't!! he was right to be annoyed - imbalances are part of the game, and casey was very good that year. he deserved that title! valentino also faced the bike merchant allegations in spades of course, but young champions are particularly vulnerable to this kind of discourse. they're less established in the sport, more likely to attract detractors who are determined to prove they can't live up to the legends of the past... after 2006, everybody more or less agreed that it was a bit of a lucky title, but hayden was so popular and people were so pleased for him that it was just treated as a feel-good story - which it wasn't in the same way with surly young casey. no matter! who cares what people think! if your opponent has a bad day, you need to take the opportunity presented to you and press home the advantage. if your opponent has a bad year, even better. no sitting around worrying whether history is going to take your accomplishments seriously... it's like hayden said at assen 2006 when valentino broke his right hand and left ankle. from the oxley reference book: '[valentino] finished the race in eighth, which put him 46 points behind hayden. "when that rossi guy is down, you gotta jump on him!" he grinned'. brutal, but that's the game

also, I'll say it: I reckon both joan and fabio have probably had their fair share of bad luck to compensate by now. enough

[bunnyboy-juice]

honestly. being able to be honest with my loved ones about when i am Mentally Unwell but also Dont Want To Talk About It has done wonders for my mental health

[capetowncapers]

I’ll have days where I’m like no I’m overthinking the fatigue shit and then I’ll have days where my brain fog is so bad that I can barely process words on a page in front of me and my thoughts feel like they’re moving through a thick soup and I want to cry…. I fucking Need to make myself go to the doctor and get more tests done or something bc it’s annoying but so is trying to function like this.

[loverboybrightsideghost]

god i love being a musician

[thjbbrwcky]

Ask game: List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! 😊

1. My Sobriety - if you had asked me 3+ months ago if I would ever be able to stop drinking, I would have told you “no, I plan to die this way,” and that was my mindset for four hard years after my mother passed away. I can very happily say today that I am 3 months and 6 days free from that devil in the bottle! Anything is possible! 🌻

2. My Friends - without whom I would not have taken the first step on my journey to sobriety. Without whom I would not be where I am today. Without whom I would not be the fuller, happier version of me who continues to grow and change every day. I love my friends, and they love me! 🥰

3. My Family - well, half of. My father’s side of the family have been the most supportive and loving people in my life besides the family I have found. 🫂

4. My Cats - I don’t think I need to expound on this one. Fuzzy babies make everything better! 🐈‍⬛🐈

5. Myself - I’m hella smart and funny as fuck even if I rbf my way through most of my days. I’m also the loveyest person you’ll ever meet if you give me the chance. ALL THE GIFTS AND CONSIDERATE BEHAVIOR BE UPON YE! 💖

*BONUS CONTENT*

6. My Job - I know my bosses have my back and I’ve got theirs. I am acknowledged and rewarded for my hard work. Plus my crush works there, so 🤭

[amey-winehouse]

[lowkeyren]

in which : alhaitham speaks to you in 5 different languages, unaware that you understand every word he says.

wc 7.3k (pls give it a chance lol), academic rivals to lovers, unrequited hate, attempt at humor, college au, denial + pinning.. crazy ik, he falls first (and harder), tw stalking by a drunkard, a genius on paper but a total dumbass when it comes to crushes, lil smau at the end!, ft. sumeru gang. art by @/gamegatchihaja on x.

ps. translations ay nasa maliliit na titik, katulad neto!!

ps. translations will be in small letters, like this!!

PROLOGUE: GOD I HATE THIS GUY! (DOES HE THINK IM STUPID?)

the semester is nearing its conclusion, and the imminent approach of finals marks the most critical period of the year; students rush through the halls, clutching their notes and textbooks like lifelines, while you pour every ounce of effort into your studies —not just for your grades, but also to surpass a certain arrogant scholar. 

alhaitham. 

the name tastes like spoiled milk on your tongue, a sour reminder of all the times he’s bested you, even if it’s just by a small margin, leaving you dumbfounded when the difference between your marks during the last exam was a mere 1%. 

you were groveling in front of your professor, “please, just round the marks up?” you could practically feel your dignity slipping away. and the worst part? you were so desperate that you started mentally calculating how many odd jobs you’d be willing to do just to sweeten the deal. 

(maybe you’ll help organize the office, run around the campus to buy him drinks every day, or even wipe down the windows of his car…)

disclaimer: he ultimately said no, but he did compliment your impeccable taste in coffee so, a win is a win? 

anyhow, alhaitham’s nonchalance only adds to your frustration, especially when he switches to a different language mid-conversation. it feels like he’s rubbing salt in your wounds, why of course you can understand him perfectly —after all, you aren’t majoring in linguistics for no reason, plus he's not the only one who’s fluent in multiple languages.

though you keep that to yourself, perhaps because the things he says in those languages, which he assumes you don’t understand, are far from innocent, unknowingly letting you have a glimpse into his true feelings. 

ACT I: WHOLEHEARTEDLY, I DETEST YOU. 

alhaitham would never fall in love —such irrational and illogical emotions held no value to him. 

that was what he always believed, but then he saw you. 

the way you laughed so unapologetically at cyno’s jokes, how you always stood firm by your beliefs, your refusal to compromise who you are; you were a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt stifling.

as much as he tries to act unfazed, he can't help the heat prickling his skin nor the way his composure falters just slightly in your presence. and when his heart raced for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew —he was completely, utterly screwed.

(“fix me, kaveh.” / “hah. who do you think i am, ‘y/n’?”)

when kaveh told him that he just had a simple “crush”, he nearly rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck there permanently.)

likewise, this ugly arrogant handsome bastard here, is one you’ll never fall in love with. 

he’s infuriating, completely insufferable, and yet there’s something about him, something hidden beneath that arrogance, that draws you in. the idea that you could ever fall for someone like him seems laughable, impossible even. he's exactly the kind of person you should avoid and you know better than to be charmed by someone like him. yet, there's that nagging feeling, deep down, that perhaps you’re not as immune to him as you think.

by some stroke of luck, you’re in the same major, same year, and even enrolled in the same lecture periods, which means you end up in the same place at the same time more often than not.

but you can’t deny that, in some twisted way, you admire him. his intellect is beyond impressive, even if it annoys you to admit it. so surely, in his eyes, you’re still inferior, and you often wonder if he even considers your ideas as worthy of attention.

(they are.)

ACT II: YOUR WATCHFUL EYES, I CAN’T IGNORE.

your pen glides across the pages as you jot down notes, fully absorbed in your studies, barely registering the faint sound of distant chatter.

unbeknownst to you, a group of students has gathered just outside the lecture hall, peeking in from the door with curious, amused expressions. they’re clearly there for you, exchanging glances and murmurs, waiting for the moment you step outside.

you don’t notice, but alhaitham, seated a few feet away, certainly does.

his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene. he doesn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenches ever so subtly. as you begin to pack up, you glance up to find him standing in front of you, his tall figure effectively blocking the group outside’s direct line of sight to you.

with a discreet glance over his shoulder, he shoots them a cold, unmistakable glare. they visibly shudder, seemingly getting the message as they awkwardly shuffle away. 

“what was that about?”

alhaitham leans against your desk, “nothing important,” his tone is dismissive, laced with irritation, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty doorway. 

you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “really? you just scared them off for no reason?”

“just getting rid of some… distractions,” he says casually, turning his attention back towards you. you raise an eyebrow, clearly not believing his words. “distractions? they weren’t bothering me.” 

his expression remains impassive, “khi họ cứ để ý đến em như vậy… em thấy không phiền, còn tôi thì có.”

“seeing them constantly paying attention to you… you're not bothered by it, but i am.”

“bởi vì cái cách mà em chú tâm hoàn toàn vào một việc gì đó…  nó quyến rũ vô cùng.”

because the way you completely focus on something… is truly mesmerising.

you blink, feeling a momentary flush of confusion and surprise at the words slipping from his mouth. did he just—? but before you can fully process it, he continues.

“vậy nên tôi cũng không thể trách họ khi họ muốn nhìn em gần và lâu hơn được.”

so i don’t blame them when they want to look at you closer and longer.

his words linger in the air, a moment passes before it clicks —he doesn’t think you understand. that’s why he’s speaking so… freely; letting slip things he’d never say outright in a language you both speak fluently.

“nhưng mà… chắc không ai trong số bọn họ có thể sánh ngang với tôi, em nhỉ?”

but… none of them can compare to me, right?

your chest tightens as a surge of warmth courses through you.��

his detached attitude only fuels your irritation. but there’s also a certain satisfaction in knowing something he doesn’t: you’ve understood every single word he’s said.

feigning ignorance, you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with what you hope is a neutral expression. "what are you going on about?" you ask.

his expression remains as stoic as ever, not a single crack in his mask. he simply shrugs, eyes still on you, "just telling you to focus more.”

your grip on the pen tightens, there's a part of you that wants to wipe that smug look off his face, to show him you're not as clueless as he assumes. but not yet —you’re curious to see just how far he’s willing to push.

"right," you mutter under your breath, tapping the pen against your notebook. "focus. got it."

he leans down slightly, one arm resting on the back of your chair while the other presses against the table, effectively caging you in.

"you're wasting time, finals are coming up." he takes a brief pause before continuing, "i wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it.”

your eyes snap up to him in a glare, “don’t you have somewhere to be?" you bite back.

alhaitham straightens, giving you a final glance before turning towards the door. “naturally, i have studying to do.”

“bởi vì tôi sẽ chứng minh cho em thấy rằng chỉ có tôi mới xứng tầm làm đối thủ học thuật của em, không một ai khác.”

because i will prove to you that only i am worthy of being your rival, no one else.

why did he frame it as if it’s a privilege only he can claim? or is he trying to… flatter you?!

you shake your head, no way, that’s ridiculous. finals are coming up, there’s no time to dwell on whatever mind games he’s playing. though if the almighty alhaitham wants a rival, then you’ll show him exactly what it means to stand at the pinnacle.

ACT III: IN MY DREAMS, I SCORED HIGHER THAN YOU.

you’re tired, the kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones. every blink stretches longer than the last and you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of you. stifling a yawn, you feel the pull of sleep tugging at you, whispering sweet promises of rest.

there’s still time till your next class.

maybe you'll take a moment to close your eyes, just for a few seconds…

did you not get enough sleep last night, or did you stay up late studying again? alhaitham watches silently from across the room, his eyes narrowing as your head droops lower, your exhaustion becoming painfully obvious with each passing second. his gaze lingers on the way your pen pauses mid-sentence, the line on your notebook trailing off as your hand grows heavy.

he pushes himself up from his seat, and approaches your desk; he notices the sunlight streaming through the window, harsh and unrelenting, hitting right over the table where you’re sitting. he looks at you —eyes closed, with the faintest crease of discomfort on your brow.

without a word, he reaches out and slips the pen from your grip, the slight shift causing your fingers to twitch, but you don’t wake. 

for a fleeting second, he considers waking you. but then, as you shift again, settling more comfortably into your chair, he decides against it. what good would that do, anyway? you’d probably just brush him off and keep going until you collapse from sheer fatigue. typical.

instead, he adjusts his stance slightly, positioning himself just right to make sure the sunlight is fully blocked from your face, casting you in a cool shadow. 

you mumble something incoherent, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your state. did you really think burning yourself out like this would help you focus?

“stubborn,” he mutters under his breath. 

you're always like this, pushing yourself past your limits, and while part of him respects your determination to outdo him, he won’t allow it to come at the expense of your health.

you stir from your slumber, lifting your head, your gaze lands on a familiar figure standing to the side of your table. his back turned, facing the sunlight that streams in from the window. 

alhaitham. 

he’s close, so close that his broad shoulders completely block out the sunlight from the window. the sight sends a rush of confusion through your already sleep-addled mind. did he… stand there the whole time? why? 

you shift slightly in your seat, your movement catching his attention. without turning, he speaks in that low, steady tone of his, “you’re awake.”

“alhaitham?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

he glances over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the calm expression on his face. “you’ve been out for a while,” he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. “i was starting to think you’d sleep through your next class.”

you rub the sleep from your eyes, “why didn’t you wake me up then?”

his shoulders shift slightly as he shrugs, still facing away from you. “you looked like you needed the rest. besides, it’s more entertaining to see how long you’d stay asleep.”

a flicker of annoyance courses through you as you roll your eyes, “oh, so you mean you care?”

he turns slightly, and you can see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “don’t read too much into it. i just prefer my competition functioning at their best.”

you wish you could roll your eyes harder because this man has an uncanny talent for grating on your nerves while somehow being insufferably charming at the same time.

“ah yes —because you need me to keep up with you,” you remark sarcastically.

“exactly.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you lean back in your chair. “you really think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“mushiro, kimi no koto o hijō ni takaku hyōka shiteiru yo.”

if anything, i think highly of you. 

your brows knit together in surprise, and you can’t help but scoff. “what was that? i didn't catch it.”

“i said i won’t go easy on you.” oh, the audacity. he’s lying again, and he knows it.

the corners of your mouth twitch in disbelief as you scrutinise his expression. there’s that familiar glimmer in his eyes, a spark of mischief that tells you he’s enjoying this too much.

“whatever,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “not like i want you to anyway.”

despite your words, you can't deny that his actions earlier were surprisingly endearing. you wonder how long he intends to keep this up. perhaps it’s time you let him know.

“ii ne, kimi ga iraira shite iru toki wa kawaiikara.”

good, because you’re cute when you’re all riled up.

you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at his words, okay maybe you shouldn’t let him know. you instinctively look away, as if avoiding his gaze can help you regain your composure.

cute? what does he mean “cute”?! he thinks he can get away with calling you cute —well… well, there’s not much you can do about it, you’re not ready to confront him about this either.

the mere thought of asking him directly makes your stomach twist with a year’s worth of embarrassment. yet, as you try to refocus on the book in front of you, you find yourself biting your lip, struggling to suppress a smile that threatens to break free.

ACT IV: I WOKE UP TODAY, AND A DREAM CAME TRUE.

the hallway buzzes with excitement as students gather around the large announcement board, eager to see the results of their theses. you push through the crowd, heart pounding, the low hum of chatter filling your ears. 

when you reach the front, you quickly scan the list; the moment your eyes land on your name, your breath catches in your throat.

there it is, in bold red ink at the top of the board —a score higher than you’d ever hoped for, higher than his. and your name, on top of his.

alhaitham.

you glance over and spot him approaching the board, approaching you. his expression is, as always, unreadable. but you know him well enough by now to catch the slight pause in his movements, the brief moment where his eyes linger just a second too long on the board.

you try not to think too much about it as you collect your thesis, with alhaitham following closely behind, his fingers nearly grazing yours as you both sift through the stack of papers on the table.

you take in the glowing praise from your professor, each word making you feel like every all-nighter was worth it. you clutch the paper, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot. 

glancing sideways, you wait for him to say something, maybe some backhanded comment, but he remains silent. your eyes meet, and there’s a shift in his gaze as the usual sharpness in his eyes dulls ever so slightly, your smile lingering like the first light of dawn breaking through the night's embrace.

it’s subtle —just a flicker —but you catch how his gaze falters, softening, if only for a heartbeat. the edges of his stare blur, drawn to the warmth of your expression as though it’s something he hadn’t meant to witness, yet can’t look away from. 

at this moment,

"looks like i finally beat you," you say, not bothering to suppress the grin spreading across your face now.

he feels like

there’s no scowl, no sign of frustration —just the slightest raise of an eyebrow. “hmm. by a point.” he pauses, studying you for a second longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his paper. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

he's in heaven.

it’s as if he’s not bothered by the outcome at all. in fact, if anything, he seems... satisfied?

"hindi dapat ganito kalala ang epekto ng ngiti mo sa akin."

your smile shouldn't affect me this badly.

“—huh?” your mouth drops slightly open at his words; out of everything, you didn’t expect him to say that. it catches you off guard, making your heart race just a little faster. if you peer closely enough, you might catch a glimpse of the gentle arch of his lips, a ghost of a smile. 

the silence stretches on for a beat too long before he clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from you. “ang iyong ngiti ang pinakamagandang tanawin ng aking araw.”

your smile is the most beautiful sight of my day.

“what?” the word slips from your lips, barely a breath, a soft gasp that hangs in the air. it feels almost surreal and you wonder if you’ve misheard him.

each heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythm that matches the erratic flutter in your chest. why is he saying these things, what for in a different language…? there’s no way that he—

"—tulad mo na ang hinangad ko na ligawan, ngunit sa bawat ngiti mo, halip ay mas lalo akong nahulog para sayo."

—like you, who i wish to court, but with every smile, i instead found myself falling for you. 

your breath hitches as your heart stumbles, the implications of his words washing over you like a wave. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, “what… did you say?”

his shoulders stiffen, and there’s a subtle tension in the way his fingers curl against the paper he’s holding. “see you tomorrow, [name],” he mutters, his voice low but hurried, and before you know it, he’s already walking away.

two strange things happened today: 

1. you finally beat your sworn enemy!

2. said enemy… complimented you? 

huh, it’s as if the words slipped out before he could catch them, as if he’s been holding them in for far too long, as if… you notice the way his neck reddens, even as he turns away.

behind the door, alhaitham lets out a quiet breath.

“gago… nagkamali ba ako?”

stupid… did i make a mistake?

to his dismay, an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence. kaveh, who had been waiting just down the hall, notices him standing there, a little too still. 

“oh, what do we have here?" there's a slight pause, followed by a raised eyebrow. "is that—no way, your face is red!” kaveh teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. “what happened there?" he leans in, clearly enjoying himself. "come on, spill the tea..!” 

"not a chance," alhaitham retorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively.

just then, kaveh spots cyno and tighnari; grinning, he waves them over. “what’s going on? did alhaitham finally crack under pressure?”

alhaitham would rather reorganise the entire library than listen to kaveh recount what happened.

“i’m leaving.” 

"no, i'm afraid you're not getting out of this one.” cyno steps forward, blocking alhaitham’s path; and tighnari, who has been quietly observing till now, chimes in, “don’t leave us hanging.”

“you’re outnumbered.” 

alhaitham sighs and shakes his head. he hadn’t even thought it was physically possible for him, of all people, to do something as ridiculous as blushing —until today.

(on the other side of the door, their banter echoes through, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at alhaitham’s misery.)

ACT V: PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY, YOU SAY? BUT EVERYONE CALLS IT FLIRTING.

“i think alhaitham likes [name].”

the whole table falls silent before kaveh dramatically slams his glass down on the table, causing a splash of alcohol to spill over the edge. “oh finally, it’s so obvious! have you all seen the way he looks at them?” 

across the table, tighnari taps his fingers absentmindedly on his notebook, his attention only half on kaveh’s (incoming) rant but clearly invested enough, as shown by the slight twitching of his ears, to be listening. 

cyno snickers, “you’re telling me the man who can dissect any philosophical argument can’t handle a little crush? that’s rich.”

kaveh waves a hand dismissively. “come on! remember that time they were partnered up for a project? he was so... uncharacteristically patient! i’d almost say it’s cute if it weren’t alhaitham we’re talking about!”

right, it’d be almost endearing —if it weren’t coming from the most stoic, intimidatingly aloof guy in the entire school. it’d be adorable —if it weren’t alhaitham, who instinctively covers the corner of your table with his hand when you drop your pencil, ensuring you won’t hit your head as you bend down to retrieve it.

oh, you don’t notice (of course not). but your friend dehya, sitting nearby, catches the whole scene out of the corner of her eye. she raises an eyebrow, nudging the girl beside her. 

(“candace, do you see that shit.” / “yeah.”)

“a soft spot for [name], you say? well, i’ve got a story of my own, too.” cyno glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot, then lowers his voice conspiratorially.  “have you noticed? he doesn’t wear his earphones when he’s around them.”

kaveh pipes up, nodding eagerly.

“he’s got those earphones practically glued to his head, he doesn’t hear anything he doesn’t want to, and he certainly doesn’t talk unless he’s forced to. but around them?” cyno pauses, pretending to think for a while. “not once. he’ll put them away entirely, like he’s actually willing to be… present.”

sure it’s small, subtle, the kind of habit no one would pick up on unless they were looking closely. but to anyone who knew alhaitham well, it tells them more than words ever could. 

for him, actions speak louder than words, even if he often doesn’t realise the meaning behind his own gestures.

his earphones slide down, resting forgotten around his neck, all so he can be close enough to catch the delightful lilt of your laughter. his chair inches a fraction closer, seemingly by accident. a subtle upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, so fleeting and often passing so quickly if one weren’t paying attention.

for him, it’s a language without words.

dehya laughs softly. "for someone who supposedly ‘doesn’t like being bothered,’ he sure seems invested in whatever [name] has to say."

and what sealed their suspicions? 

definitely the time when kaveh complimented nilou’s new bracelet. he glanced over at the man beside him, nudging him lightly. “what do you think?”

alhaitham gave the bracelet a cursory glance, before replying, “it’s nice.” though his gaze flickered back; and almost absently, he added after a pause, “[name] has the same one too.”

oh… oh? well that was oddly specific. kaveh’s eyebrow quirked as he fought to suppress a grin.

alhaitham had noticed a detail seemingly insignificant about [name] —the kind of thing he never cared to show the slightest interest in when it came to anyone else.

the glint in nilou’s eyes seemed to mirror kaveh’s unspoken thoughts, silently agreeing with his suspicions.  

now they’re certain —100% sure, in fact —that alhaitham has a crush on you.

“well, speak of the devil… lovely seeing you here, alhaitham,” kaveh quips. tighnari, ever observant, gives him a pointed look. “your jacket’s missing.”

“someone took it,” alhaitham replies, his tone as composed as always, giving nothing away.

—nothing until you walked past. draped over your shoulders, unmistakable, is alhaitham’s jacket. you don’t notice the way every pair of eyes follows you, or the way kaveh barely stifles a triumphant laugh.

...make that 110%.

(translation: he means he borrowed his jacket because [name] was cold.)

ACT VI: IT’S YOU, WHO COMES TO MY RESCUE. 

the quiet night hangs heavy, the road empty and bathed in the dim glow of distant streetlights. you weave through the streets, but no matter how many twists and turns you take, that weirdo just won’t leave you alone.  

he’s been trailing behind you for blocks now, his persistence grating on your nerves, cornering you with endless “compliments” and invasive questions. you’ve tried to shake him off, but his determination far exceeds your patience.

"come on, just give me a chance," he insists, stepping closer, a little too close for comfort. you take a step back. the smell of alcohol reeks from his breath, and his grin is making your skin crawl. 

"i told you, i’m not interested," you say firmly, keeping your voice steady, but the panic was starting to creep in. you glance at the empty bottle in his hand —he’s definitely drunk out his mind.

“you sure?" he completely ignores your clear discomfort. "how about you just give me your number, yeah?" he slurs out.

"no, i have a boyfriend." you lie through your teeth, hoping that would be enough to make him back off.

unfortunately, he’s as insufferable as he is persistent.

he snorts dismissively, "yeah, right. a boyfriend? you’re just playing hard to get."

you sigh, you aren’t in the mood for this, not here, not now, and especially not with someone like him. "i already told you, i have a boyfriend," your voice now tinged with frustration. "so please, just leave me alone.”

"oh, don't be like that," he steps in front of you, blocking your way. "prove it. call your boyfriend. show me you’re not lying."

your heart races as the man reaches out for you, dodging his hand, you take the chance to look behind him for an escape. just then, you see an all-too-familiar figure in the distance. 

alhaitham. 

you barely manage to suppress a relieved sigh as you wave frantically in his direction. he spots you almost immediately and without hesitation, he rushes over.

"what, this your boyfriend?" the guy sneers with derision, still sounding a little too cocky for someone who was about to get a reality check.

alhaitham steps beside you, you can feel his eyes on you for just a brief moment, the faintest flicker of worry flashing across his face. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it—and it makes your chest tighten.

his voice is low, unmistakably carrying a warning, "yes, i’m their boyfriend. and if you don’t want things to escalate, i suggest you leave." 

the man’s face twists as anger flares in his bloodshot eyes. he takes a step forward, his grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, the glass slightly cracking. "you think you can tell me what to do?" he slurs, gaze wild and unfocused. “y-you think you’re some kind of saviour? *hic* a-and you! how… how dare you reject me?!”

alhaitham doesn’t move, his expression cold and unbothered, and that only seems to make the man angrier. his frustration boils over, and with a snarl, he clumsily swings the bottle in his hand, aggressively lurching towards your direction. 

the world seems to slow for a moment. though before you can even react, alhaitham pulls you firmly behind him with one swift motion, his other arm instinctively rising to shield the both of you from the blow. the sound of glass meeting his forearm is sharp and jarring —you can hear the high-pitched tinkle of glass scattering, the jagged shards bouncing off the pavement, and some skittering across the ground.

but he doesn’t even flinch, his stance unwavering as the man stumbles back, glass crunching underfoot. you’re still frozen from shock, your heart racing in your chest as you watch the scene unfold. 

“big mistake,” he starts, and the man visibly falters. “harassment, assault —keep this up, and you’ll regret every choice that brought you here tonight.”

the man shifts around, clearly disoriented. his eyes dart between you and alhaitham, but it’s clear that the fight’s already left him. “you— you can’t do this!” the man stammers, trying to regain some semblance of courage; unfortunately for him, the tremor in his voice is unmistakable. 

“do you really want to find out?” alhaitham asks, to which the man shakes his head vigorously. “get lost,” he mutters. the man, looking more pathetic than threatening now, quickly stumbles away, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath.

you’re breathless, still clutching the edge of his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline courses through you. 

"are you alright?"

you nod, forcing a small, unconvincing smile."yeah... i’m fine. thanks to you." 

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. you follow his gaze instinctively, glancing down at yourself. that’s when you notice it —not on you, but on him.

streaks of red stain his forearm, where jagged shards of glass must have cut him during the confrontation. the gash bleeds steadily, a dark line of blood seeping through the fabric of his jacket.

"wait," you breathe, your heart sinking. "you're bleeding."

your stomach twists with guilt.

"why didn’t you say anything?" you exclaim.

he shakes his head, a dismissive gesture that does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach. "it’s nothing," he says, but the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betray his words.

"nothing?" you fix him with a hard glare. "idiot… you just blocked a glass bottle with your arm, don’t try to downplay this."  

you grab his sleeve, tugging it gently but firmly, the fabric sliding beneath your fingers as you pull it up. “—and unless you think an infection is ‘nothing’, you’ll let me take care of this."  

"hold still," you murmur as you settle beside him on the couch, your supplies spread across the coffee table in front of you.

the scent of antiseptic fills the air as you take a disinfectant wipe and gently dab it against the gash. the sting of the alcohol makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. you mutter a soft apology, your movements slow and deliberate as you try to be as gentle as you can.

you open a tube of ointment, squeezing a small amount onto your finger before smoothing it carefully along the edges of the cut. the cool gel glides over his skin, and you can feel the tension in his arm ease ever so slightly under your touch.

“nǐ zhème guān xīn wǒ, huì ràng wǒ wù huì de.”

if you care so much about me, i might misunderstand you.

your fingers pause briefly, the words catching you off guard. you glance up at him, but he only averts his gaze, his eyes remaining fixed on a distant spot beyond the room.

misunderstand? misunderstand what, exactly?

the bandage wraps securely around his arm as you smooth it into place. as you tuck the end of the bandage, his voice comes again, just as soft, but no less clear. 

“—wù huì nǐ duì wǒ yǒu gǎn jué.”

"—misunderstand that you have feelings for me."

your brain short-circuits, and in your shock, your hands jerk. in turn, the bandage tightens way too much, causing him to wince and tense up. before you can apologise, he lets out a light chuckle.

“suǒ yǐ nǐ dān xīn wǒ… nǐ shì bù shì gù yì ràng rén xīn dòng de?”

“so you're worried about me… are you purposely trying to make my heart race?”

his words only make you more flustered, and you find yourself fumbling to fix the bandage. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to—”

his chuckle only grows softer, and you catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. “it’s fine.”

you quickly finish adjusting the bandage, trying to focus on anything other than how your heart is now racing. (ironically) 

“you seem flustered,” he comments casually, as if he isn’t the one who just made your head spin. “did i say something wrong?”

you shake your head quickly, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "no, not at all.”

his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.

"nǐ bù bì yǎn shì, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ hài xiū de yàng zǐ, tǐng kě ài de.”

“you don’t have to hide it. i like seeing your flustered expression, it’s quite cute.”

(oh this bastard!!!!)

you try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. what do you say when someone’s teasing you so openly —and they think you don’t even realise it?

after a long moment, he stands, “it’s getting late, i should get going.” alhaitham gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment —and there it was, that trace of softness reserved only for you.

he heads toward the door, you watch him, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when he turns away.

“i’ll see you,” he pauses. "...and thank you for tending to me."

you watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and the silence settles back into the room.

you blink, taking a deep breath. what a rollercoaster of a day. yawning, you turn to start tidying up, but your eyes land on something on the couch.

it’s his jacket, draped over the armrest. you notice a tear on the sleeve, just where his injured forearm had been. what truly catches your attention, however, is a folded piece of paper slipping out of the pocket. 

intrigued, you unfold it, revealing his neat, precise handwriting. 

ACT VII: THE SECRET I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN. 

To [Name],  I once believed you to be little more than a nuisance. A bright, well-meaning nuisance, no doubt, but a nuisance nonetheless. One who seemed intent only on striving for perfection, always seeking to best me at every turn, not out of malice but out of some earnest desire to prove your worth. In my arrogance, I mistook your relentless pursuit for a need for recognition, as if you sought my attention in some petty rivalry. Though very quickly, you made me think otherwise.  You saw the world differently, you also saw me differently. You didn’t treat me with the reverence others seemed to, nor did you shy away from challenging me. You refused to be seen as anything other than yourself; and that, in itself, was what made me admire you —what made me long to understand you more. Now, I find that I am standing with half a heart and an emptiness I never knew I could feel, because you showed me what it truly means to crave something more, something I never thought I deserved. You may think I’m a coward for not expressing my feelings more directly, perhaps you are right. I am a coward for fearing to lay bare the vulnerability of my heart. But even in my cowardice, know that my thoughts have always been of you.  If you have seen through my silence and hesitation, if you understand my actions when my words fail me, then perhaps you have already known this truth. I care for you, more deeply than I can fully express. Though I may never be able to say these things as openly as I wish, I’d like you to know that my actions have always been my confession. Even now, I’m still a coward for you. So please, if you decide to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting at nightfall. Helplessly,  Alhaitham. 

you absentmindedly trace the edges of the letter with your fingers while your eyes skim over his writing for the nth time, the ink seeming to blur together with your thoughts as you try to process everything. your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, a foolish smile creeping onto your face.

tomorrow’s nightfall feels impossibly far away, yet you can’t wait for it. 

alhaitham lays on his bed, his arm aches slightly from the injury, but it’s nothing he can’t ignore. plus, the bandage you had carefully wrapped around his arm is enough to keep the discomfort at bay. 

(originally, he had only planned to meet you, slip you the note, and be on his way. things didn’t go exactly to plan, but either way, he hopes you’ve read it by now.)

of all the possibilities, he’s never accounted for the one he’d be at mercy of his own emotions; he had always prided himself on his rationality, his restraint. but now? he’s reckless, absurd, foolish even —he can admit that to himself. but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.

for as much as he is a coward in your presence, he is just as much a fool in your absence.

ACT VIII: UNDER THE RAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. 

“alhaitham isn’t really an expressive person, so don’t worry if he comes off as distant or uninterested. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just… shows it differently.”

ah well, ‘differently’ indeed.

“—most importantly, alhaitham doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t care about, so you must mean a lot to him.”

maybe you didn’t mind how your heart raced when you heard that.

“don’t fuss over it [name], you’ll know when he’s in love.”

how so? 

if he was in love, what would it look like? would you be able to tell, or would it be just another one of those things you had to catch on to?

you wrapped the his jacket tighter around yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. it wasn’t the answers to those questions that mattered, but asking them in the first place —that was what made you realize you already knew all along.

the evening air is cool against your skin; a gentle breeze stirs the trees, their leaves rustling quietly, and your heart beats louder than ever, urging you forward.

in the distance, you spot him, standing still in the dim light. and without a second thought, you quicken your pace.

“haitham.”

the sound of your voice catches his attention as he turns to face you; you can’t help but notice how his gaze flickers down for just a moment, his eyes taking in on how his jacket looks on you, before meeting yours. 

his posture is unnervingly perfect, rigid almost to the point of stiffness …is he nervous?

“hey,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “there’s something i need to tell you… though you’ve probably already figured it out. you’ve always been sharp.” 

“i… ” he falters, and it’s the first time you see him hesitate. “i’m not sure how to put it… since i’m not exactly great at this.”

you tilt your head, subtly urging him to continue. 

“but you’ve managed to make me care about things i never thought i would. and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about it —about you.” his voice lowers, softer now, but there’s a rawness there that’s unmistakable.

“i’m telling you this now, because not saying it... doesn’t feel right anymore."

suddenly, you feel a soft mist that barely kisses your skin, a slight chill against your cheeks, then a few tiny drops,  until they start to gather in your hair, the beads of water slipping down the back of your neck, but you don't move. neither does he.

his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, droplets trailing down his temple. his clothes cling to his frame, soaked by the rain, yet his attention remains solely on you.

“[name], i am irrevocably in love with you.”

you stand there, the rain falling relentlessly around you, the pitter-patter mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. the water trails down his face, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just the rain, or something else.

his lips part, as though he wants to say more, but the words seem caught in the storm, swallowed up by the downpour. the rain is cold, but his gaze? his gaze feels impossibly warm. 

it’s only when you feel the dampness of his jacket beneath your fingers, that the words finally come. “you don’t need to convince me of that.”

you take a step closer, and for a moment, the world outside seems to disappear.

“i’ve known,” you add. “but hearing you say it,” you pause, allowing yourself a small smile, “makes all the difference.”

reaching up, your fingers graze his damp skin as you gently push a wet strand of hair from his forehead, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cool skin. 

“'uhibuk aydan, alhaitham.”

i love you too, alhaitham.

a single droplet slides down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before falling to the soaked fabric of his collar. another follows. and then another. his breath catches in his throat, and a shaky exhale leaves his mouth.

you wrap your arms around him, and he sinks into your embrace, his hair tickling your cheeks, as his chest rises and falls against yours.

“you’re gonna make me cry too, idiot,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, your eyes glassy. “you really are a fool,” you tease softly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “but only for me.”

slowly, his hands rise, trembling slightly, until they cup your cheeks, gently stroking it. 

“la yujad 'ahad akhar 'urid 'an 'akun 'ahmaq min 'ajlihi.”

there’s no one else i’d ever want to be a fool for.

his palms are surprisingly warm despite the weather. his thumb grazes your cheekbone as he leans in, and the world falls away —nothing but the warmth of his presence and the soft press of his lips against yours.

“this is my first time in ten years seeing this guy cry! can you believe it?!” kaveh whisper-shouts, peeking out from behind the shrub. 

nodding along, cyno agrees, poking his head out just right below the blond’s. “[name] is truly exceptional. though i must say, seeing alhaitham cry is quite tear-rifying.”

kaveh rolls his eyes in exasperation. “ugh, you and your puns.” he mutters under his breath while zooming in on his phone, which is currently recording the whole scene.

“quiet down, you two!” a voice hisses from behind them —tighnari, face flushed with panic. “they’re literally right there, and you’re making more noise than a herd of goats.”

“relax, we’re out of their line of sight anyway!” kaveh raises his phone higher, almost giddily, eyes glued to the screen. “and damn this is a good angle.”

tighnari exhales sharply, “you’re incorrigible.”

“look who’s talking,” cyno raises an eyebrow at tighnari… who’s also peeking out from behind the bush. (what a hypocrite)

…

“they kissed oh my g—” kaveh’s voice rises in disbelief, but cyno quickly covers his mouth with a swift hand. the three of them scramble to duck behind the bush just as you turn to glance in their direction.

(“is that… senior kaveh?” you squint your eyes, “cyno, and tighnari?” 

alhaitham clears his throat before glancing over at his friends with a deadpan expression. “yes and unfortunately, they’re very invested in my personal life. so please don’t mind them."

you laugh, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing. “not in the slightest, but i’m sure they’ll never let you hear the end of it.”)

EPILOGUE: IN EVERY LANGUAGE, I HEAR LOVE YOU.

“how long?”

you blink, feigning confusion. “how long what?”

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, an expression you know well. “how long have you understood everything i’ve been saying?”

you bite back a smile and offer a small shrug, “...ever since you started?” 

his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s upset or impressed. then, he sighs, almost amused. “and you let me embarrass myself all this time?”

“you were being honest,” you shrug, a smirk forming. “plus i knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “may ideya ka ba kung ano ginawa mo?"

do you have any idea what you’ve done?

"mas lalong umibig sakin?"

made you fall in love with me even more?

you tease, but there’s a tenderness in your voice that softens the edge of your words.

“yes, and you really are insufferable,” he mutters with no malice. his tone is different now. softer. warmer, even.

you lean in slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “that’s not what i heard you say before.” your fingers graze the skin of his cheek before you tenderly pinch it, giggling softly at the reaction you provoked.

in one smooth motion, he catches your hand before you can pull away and tugs you towards him, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. you tilt your head back to meet alhaitham’s gaze.

you’ve often thought he’s the most-perfect boyfriend, undeniably handsome in every way —but there’s really just one flaw: his height.

“ugh, you’re too tall," you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "i’m having a neck sore just looking at you."

he quirks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “you could use a stepstool.” 

"or," you counter, "you could get on your knees and save me the trouble.”

he slowly lets out a breath, his lips curling ever so slightly. 

“'akida, 'antaziri hataa 'ashtari alkhatama.”

sure, just wait till i buy the ring.

"wh—" 

he crosses his arms, "what’s wrong? isn’t that what people expect when someone gets on their knees?"

you roll your eyes, half-smiling. "fine, then i’ll eagerly wait for that day.”

his gaze softens as his hand reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his eyes drop to your lips for a moment, and you know what’s coming even before he speaks.

this fic was not sponsored by duolingo, but with the help of my beloved friends!! wouldn't have been possible w/o em please give them a round of applause xx

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ty @mitsvriii for proofreading, love u all <3

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