#this second half of this year has just been one thing after another i am so past my limit i hate everything tonight

[hatake]

.

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

DISCORD BOYFRIEND KÖNIG

sfw + nsfw. this is just an amalgamation of all my ideas

könig has never been one for putting his face on social media. even before the scars that pull at the skin of his cheek, reshaping his expression in ways he’s never fully grown used to, the idea of being seen, really seen, has never sat right with him. there’s a certain comfort in anonymity, in keeping the world at arm’s length. easier that way. safer.

that unease, paired with what some might consider his more nerdy interests, means he gravitates toward spaces like discord rather than the highly curated feeds of instagram or facebook. there, he doesn’t have to worry about photos or videos— just a username, and a presence in text.

his handle is simple: king 👑. a nod to the name he’s carried for so long, stripped of rank, stripped of weight.

even in the server where he’s most active, he keeps things vague, blending into discussions about games, military history, or whatever niche interest has caught his attention that week.

every now and then, he’ll let something slip— a mention of deployment, an offhand comment, disappearing for months at a time, only to return with a sudden burst of activity. some put the pieces together. most don’t. and könig prefers it that way. it’s easier to let them think he’s just another guy with spotty internet.

your first interaction is rather simple in retrospect.

he’s back after weeks of recon, shaking off the mission like dirt from his boots, easing into the familiarity of a gaming server he’s called home for years.

it’s not a small server, so new people come and go. he does his usual routine— an automated, slightly impersonal welcome but what he doesn’t expect is the sheer enthusiasm in return.

“hi!!!!”

he stares at the message for a second, counting the exclamation marks. three. four. five? a small smile tugs at his lips before he even realizes it.

it doesn’t take long before you’re at his metaphorical side, sending a friend request before the conversation even shifts from your college courses.

the older members tease him. something about his last deployment scrambling his head enough to take a newbie under his wing. he lets them talk. he doesn’t mind.

soon enough, you’re in his private messages, dramatically lamenting your latest loss in a game he’s only vaguely familiar with. könig listens— well, reads— as you rant, words spilling out at a rapid-fire pace, interspersed with keyboard smashing and increasingly incoherent frustration.

he’s not much for new releases, preferring to sink his teeth into a single game for months on end, grinding away until mastery is muscle memory. still-

one evening, without preamble, he sends you a link. his profile. in your game.

the response is immediate. ‘king!!! 🥺’ you type, followed by an onslaught of keyboard mashing that takes up half his screen.

he exhales a short laugh, shaking his head. he wonders if you know how easy it is to make him grin like an idiot.

the calls are… an unexpected development.

könig doesn’t make a habit to join server calls. ever. it’s not even about anxiety, not really, just preference. too many voices, too much noise. he never expected to be comfortable enough with anyone to want to be in a call, let alone initiate one.

but when you start gaming together, it becomes a necessity. typing mid-match isn’t exactly efficient, and you’re the first to point that out.

“okay, listen, king, i am not about to lose another ranked match just because you take five years to type ‘behind you.’” he huffs, amused, but relents.

soon enough, calls become second nature— no longer tied to gaming, no longer requiring an excuse. you always ask first, polite thing that you are, and könig always agrees. sometimes it’s an unspoken invitation, a simple “call?” sent in the quiet hours of the night. sometimes he beats you to it, pressing the button before he can think too hard about it.

one time, it’s you who calls. he answers on the first ring.

“are you- wait.” you pause, listening. there’s a distinct, rhythmic thud-thud-thud in the background. not footsteps, but something heavier, more controlled. “are you on a treadmill?”

“mm.” his voice is steady, unaffected. a quiet confirmation.

you gasp, and he can practically hear the amusement brewing in your tone. “oh my god! you actually work out? i thought you were lying.”

he snorts, breath hitching slightly as he adjusts his pace. “why would i lie about that?”

“i don’t know! you just- i mean, you sit at your desk all day, playing the same game for hours, and you’re always online at weird times-”

“you are describing yourself,” he points out.

“shut up.”

there’s a pause, and then, with the kind of mischief that only comes from knowing exactly how to push his buttons, you add, “prove it.”

he slows to a walk, swiping open his phone. a moment later, you receive a picture. him, flexing. the lighting is dim, but you can still make out the cut of his forearm, the solid shape of his bicep. just to humor you, he throws up a peace sign.

“not stolen from pinterest.”

you burst into laughter so sudden and bright that he finds himself smiling before he can stop it.

you learn what it means to miss könig pretty early on.

it happens suddenly. one day, he’s there, active as usual, sending the occasional meme, idling in voice chat even if he’s not talking. the next? radio silence. not even a ‘typing…’ indicator.

at first, you don’t think much of it. maybe he’s sleeping in. maybe he’s busy. time zones are weird. it’s fine.

but then a whole day passes. then another. you check his status— nothing. not offline, not do not disturb, just… gone.

curiosity turns into concern, and before you can think better of it, you ask in the server.

“hey, anyone heard from king?”

the response is casual. unbothered. “oh, dude’s probably deployed again.”

you blink. reread the message. “deployed?”

“yeah, king’s military.”

there’s no warning for the way that statement knocks the air from your lungs.

military? as in, real-life combat? as in, war zones and danger and actual life-or-death situations?

you stare at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure what to even say to that.

he doesn’t resurface for weeks.

you don’t realize how much you’ve come to rely on his presence until it’s gone. his absence is loud in the quiet moments of your day, in the spaces where a message from him would normally be.

you check the server out of habit, catching yourself before you can search his username. it’s stupid, you think. you barely know him. he’s just some guy from a discord server.

but the worry lingers.

and then, one day, just like that— he’s back.

his return is as unceremonious as his disappearance.

no dramatic entrance, no fanfare. just a simple “hello.”

you see it the moment he sends it. your stomach flips.

before you can stop yourself, you send a private message. “you’re alive.”

a moment passes. then— “yes.”

you frown. “you were gone for weeks.”

“i know.”

frustration bubbles up. “you could’ve said something.”

“i couldn’t.”

you hesitate, fingers tightening around your phone. you don’t know what you were expecting. an explanation? reassurance? but it’s clear you’re not getting one.

but then, a follow-up message. one that feels heavier, more careful. “i’m sorry.”

and just like that, the irritation dissolves.

it’s strange, the way things slip back into place after that.

he doesn’t talk about it, and you don’t ask. but something shifts. after that deployment, könig starts telling you when he’ll be gone. nothing in detail, really. just a simple, “i’ll be away for a bit.”

(it means everything.)

slowly, you get used to it. the rhythm of his presence and absence, the way your conversations pick up right where they left off, as if no time has passed at all.

it goes on for months. this… thing between the two of you. könig doesn’t hesitate to call it friendship, though he knows, knows, it’s something else entirely.

something with edges softer than companionship, something that lingers in the pauses between conversation, in the way you had whispered his real name under your breath when he revealed it to you.

he doesn’t rush to name it. doesn’t push. he lets it simmer until it feels inevitable.

in the end, it’s you who breaks first. technically. not that he’s keeping score. not that he would ever rub it in your face, especially when he was a mere day away from asking the very same thing.

it starts with a message. no preamble, no buildup. just a simple: hey, what are we?

könig sees it and reacts before thinking. presses the call button so fast his thumb practically smashes the screen. it rings once, twice—

“you didn’t even ask.” your voice comes through, half exasperated, half amused.

“didn’t want to give you time to unsend.” his own voice is steady, but his heart is anything but.

you huff. “bold assumption.”

“not really.”

a pause. he hears you shift, fabric rustling, the sound of you settling in. something warm and slow uncoils in his chest at the familiarity of it.

“so,” you start, hesitant. “what’s your answer?”

könig exhales, tipping his head back against his pillow. “do you want the truth?”

“obviously.”

he hums, considering. in reality, he’s known the truth for a while now. probably before you even realized it yourself.

“i like you,” he says, simple, sure. then, because he knows you, because he knows your deflections, your habit of teasing when you get nervous, he adds, “and i’m very aware you like me back.”

you sputter. “that’s a bold assumption-”

“not really,” he repeats, smug this time.

you groan, but you’re laughing, and it sends something bright flickering through him.

könig doesn’t ask for nudes. not once. he flirts, he teases, but never pushes. he knows your boundaries, respects them, never even hints at wanting more. if anything, he’s careful. too careful, sometimes. like he’s afraid of crossing a line you haven’t even drawn.

so when you finally send something, it’s your choice.

the first picture is tame. barely anything. it's a shot of your thighs, soft and warm in the low light of your room. nothing scandalous. nothing too revealing. but the second you hit send, your stomach twists with nerves.

könig sees it immediately. you watch the typing bubble appear, disappear, then appear again. and then— “fuck.”

you grin. “good?”

“you have no idea.”

it only escalates from there.

könig never requests more. but when you send it, when you want to send it, his reaction is worth it. he worships you through the screen, tells you how beautiful you are, how much he wishes he could touch you.

“pretty,” he texts once, attached to a voice message.

you press play. his breath is ragged, like he’s just run a mile. “pretty thing,” he repeats, voice tinged with something almost reverent. “you’re going to ruin me, love.”

the first time he sends you something, it takes him forever to work up to it.

you don’t ask for it. wouldn’t dream of pushing him into something he’s not comfortable with. könig isn’t shy, necessarily, but he’s private. you know that by now.

so when, out of nowhere, a picture pops up on your screen, your brain short-circuits.

it’s cropped carefully, but there’s no mistaking what you’re looking at— bare skin, broad shoulders, his stomach flexed just slightly.

“you like?” he texts after a minute.

you swallow hard. “yes.”

“good.” and then— “more?”

you bite your lip. “please.”

könig gets bolder after that.

he sends more. never too much, always teasing, always just enough to leave you wanting. sometimes it’s his hands, sometimes it’s his abs, the sharp cut of his hip bones, the waistband of his sweatpants hanging just low enough to make your mouth water.

one night, he sends a voice message instead. you press play.

at first, all you hear is his breathing. then, slowly, softly— your name, whispered through a noise that makes heat bloom low in your stomach.

“wish you were here,” he murmurs. “wish you could see what you do to me.”

the actual nudes don’t take long. not ar all. you’re both desperate. buzzing. könig’s the one who caves first.

it starts with your text. 10 p.m., the hour where inhibitions slip through grasping fingers like sand.

“wanna see your cock so bad, könig…” you murmur to your propped phone, cheek pressed to your pillow, another one stuffed against your chest like it might replace the hollow ache between your ribs. a distraction. a poor substitute.

on the other side of the screen, he exhales, dragging a hand down his face. fingers tensing, then flexing, like he needs something to hold onto. “love-” your whine cuts through before he can even think. instinctive. needy. his stomach clenches. “okay, okay. as long as you're sure.”

his heart pounds as he opens his photos. he doesn’t exactly collect dick pics, but there are a few kept locked away, private albums, a passcode he suddenly fumbles to enter.

three minutes. that’s how long it takes to choose the best one. the right angle. the right lighting. enough to make your breath hitch when you see it.

he hits send before he can overthink it, then leans back, phone balanced on his thigh, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

your phone buzzes. the photo pops up. you blink, breath hitching sharp in your throat.

“oh my god.” the words spill out of you before you can even think to stop them. “könig…” you stare at the screen, gaze locked on the thick, heavy length of him. the way it curves slightly, resting against his thigh like it’s weighed down by its own sheer mass. your breath stutters.

“you're so fucking big.” it barely registers that you've said it aloud.

“yeah? you like it?

“like it?” you shoot back. “i want it inside me.”

his breath leaves him in one harsh exhale. he shifts, hips rolling involuntarily like he can feel your words on his skin.

“can i see you too?” he sounds so polite. and then, as if that wasn’t enough to twist the knife deeper— “please?”

your stomach flips. you bite your lip, already reaching for your phone camera, the need to show him everything burning through you like wildfire.

your breath comes shallow as you slip your hand lower, phone steady in the other. the need is a pulse under your skin, throbbing, insistent. you pull the covers back just enough, the cool air prickling against the heat between your thighs.

the camera catches everything. your slightly parted thighs, your swollen clit, the wetness gushing out of your hole. it feels like baring a secret you’ve never told anyone. you hesitate for half a second, heart racing, then hit send.

the second the message disappears from your screen, it hits you— you just sent that to him.

on his end, könig freezes. the photo loads slow, torturous, and when it finally pops up, he feels his whole body tense, blood rushing south so fast it’s dizzying. “f-fuck, i need to be inside of you-”

sex with könig, if you can even call it that, at first, sneaks up on you. you never thought you’d be the kind of person who got into this. sending texts that made your face burn, leaving voice messages you could barely listen back to without cringing. but with him, it’s different. easier. less embarrassing because it’s him.

still, going from nudes to actual phone sex takes some time.

“gonna sleep,” könig texts you once, attached to a blurry photo of his bed.

“alone?” you send back, teasing.

the typing bubble appears. then disappears. then— “obviously.”

you grin at your phone, satisfied. but then— “but i could use some company.”

you stare at the message longer than you’d like to admit.

in the past, you hadn't told him how many times you’d dreamt of him because you thought you'd scare him off, kept your mouth shut about the images that haunted you at night, of his hands pinning you down, his mouth at your throat.

didn't tell him that you had woken up panting, arousal between your thighs, könig’s name on your lips too many times. didn't tell him that you had pressed your hand against your clit during your calls, to the sound of his voice, to his laugh, to the quiet, wrecked groans he sometimes lets out when he stretches after a workout.

but you wanted to.

and tonight, you would.

the conversation turns slow. lazy. heavy with something unspoken.

“you sound tired,” könig murmurs, voice warm. he’s always like this late at night. soft, unhurried, like he’s sinking into the sound of you.

you swallow hard. your skin feels too hot, too tight. “i’m not.”

a pause. then, lower— “what is it, love?”

you hesitate, pressing your lips together. it’s too much. too embarrassing. but he knows something is different.

“talk to me. tell me what you’re thinking.”

you let out a shaky breath. “i had a dream about you.”

the silence stretches.

you can hear him inhale. you bite your lip. force yourself to continue. “i think about you. when i-” you stop. you can’t say it. can’t admit it.

könig exhales through his nose, like he’s trying to steady himself. “when you what?”

your stomach is a knot of nerves. but you want this. want him. so you take a breath, close your eyes. “when i touch myself.”

his breath stutters.

“fuck.” the word is almost a groan. your pulse hammers, blood rushing through your ear as heat pools in your stomach.

“könig,” you whisper.

he exhales, whispers his next words like a beg, “say it again.”

you swallow. “i touch myself to you.”

“i do too.”

your stomach flips. “what?”

“i-” he cuts himself off with a quiet curse, like he's frustrated with himself for hesitating. “i touch myself to you too.”

your breath catches. heat blooms in your chest, spreading down your spine. “könig-”

“all the time.” his voice is lower now, raw, like he's aching with it. “when i can't sleep. when you're on call with me, laughing, teasing me. when i wake up hard in the middle of the night and can’t stop thinking about stuffing you full.”

your body is burning again, despite the aftershocks still rolling through you. you're about to choke out a reply when you hear it— the rustle of fabric, the faint creak of bedsprings, the wet slide of skin on skin.

“are you-”

a sharp inhale. “yes.”

“let me hear you,” you whisper, thinking about his pretty, pretty cock. uncut, soft skin stretched over the flushed head, the way it would slide back when he’s fully hard, revealing the deep pink of his leaking tip. the veins that wind down the length, standing out against the pale skin

there's a pause, a hitch in his breath. then, slowly— “okay.”

there's a small rustle, könig adjusting himself on the bed. the faint sound of him pumping lotion on his hand. a quiet sigh. and then, a low grunt as the warmth of his palm wraps around his cock.

könig looks down at his hand, eyes half-lidded, hips bucking up in small thrusts. he imagines your pussy instead of his fist, hot and tight and so fucking warm, fluttering around his length as he pushes in, spearing you open with a cock too big for your little cunny.

he knows you’d cry for him, little gasps and hiccupped moans, squirming beneath him as he bullies his cock deeper, past that tight ring of muscle into the slick, warm clutch of your cunt.

“a-ah- fuck, ah-”

your breath stutters at the sounds, hips grinding against your palm. “wish i could see you.”

“on cam?”

you groan, squeezing your thighs around the pillow in-between your legs, grinding your clit against the material softly. “yes, please..”

fuck, you're so polite.

[atlabeth]

bend an ear

pairing: peter parker x fem reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn't listen to you. good thing your friendly neighborhood spider-man does.

a/n: there's just something about him idk. andrew garfield spidey bc of course! look at him! this came from me playing the spider-man game after it went on sale and yearning for peter parker (will prob have to rewatch the movies bc of this) anyways hope you like it

wc: 3.6k

warning(s): reader's bf is shitty -- they argue for a while and he lowkey slut shames her. but this is basically all fluff otherwise bc childhood best friends to lovers babby!!! real yearning loverboy hours!!!

Peter just wants to go home. 

It’s been… a day. He got his ass kicked by an English test (he doesn’t have time to do the readings when he’s fighting crime), got his ass kicked by Flash Thompson (it’s not like he can fight back with his super strength and pulverize his ribs), and has spent every second since his final class ended fighting petty crimes around the city. 

Stopping ATM thefts and minor muggings feels good, sure, but on days like these, it doesn’t really make up for failing intro literature classes and getting absolutely zero sleep. He’s just thankful May is still letting him live with her while he studies at ESU—if he had to do all of this in addition to trying to make his rent? He doesn’t really want to think about it. 

So he swung his way to the roof of some random building, and he’s taking a break. Sue him, but Peter thinks he deserves it. What’s the point of living in a city like New York if you can’t have a second to yourself every once in a while? 

He’ll go home soon. Grab a bodega sandwich, maybe stop another crime, and then get home for some much needed rest. But for now, he’s just going to sit on this rooftop and relax for a second. Even Spider-man needs some peace and— 

“Babe—” 

“Why are you following me?”

Peter winces as the door slams open, an argument following close after as a girl storms out onto the roof followed by a guy speeding to keep up with her. His first instinct is to swing away as soon as possible, but for some reason, he stays. 

“Because I want to talk!”

“God, do you even hear yourself?” 

“You keep talking over me, so I really—” 

“You don’t get to babe me right now!” 

As if his day hadn’t been bad enough, now he’s accidentally made himself privy to some couple’s dispute. He’s about to web himself out of this third wheeling nightmare when the girl turns around with a groan, revealing her face, and Peter realizes who it is. 

It’s you.

This is your apartment complex. Peter came here without even realizing it, but can he really be surprised? Your name is synonymous with peace in his brain. Comes with the territory of being friends for so long—it still calms him, even when you’re being the opposite of peaceful. 

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this!” the guy exclaims, frustration clear in his voice. 

Of course. Why wouldn’t your shitty boyfriend be here too? The only reason you live here is because you scored this place together; said he didn’t want you living on campus anymore. Ethan Frey might be the bane of Peter’s existence after two and a half years of him being your boyfriend. 

“Because you and your posse are acting like complete jags in front of all my friends!” you shout back. 

He laughs in disbelief. “I’m just being myself, babe. Besides, you’re the one who said I could invite them!” 

“Because you complained about it just being my friends,” you grind out. “You weren’t even supposed to be here, Ethan! You just can’t handle the thought of me being around guys that aren’t you!” 

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to think, huh?” He gestures wildly. “You spend every second with that geek and I’m supposed to believe you’re not into him?” 

And now he’s eavesdropping on a conversation between you and your boyfriend about him. How could this get worse? 

“God, it isn’t like that at all!” you exclaim with a mirthless laugh. “Peter is my friend— my best friend since elementary school. You knew when we got together that wasn’t going to change.” 

“Yeah,” he says, nodding lazily, “but that was before I knew how obvious his hard-on for you was.” 

Peter feels his face heat beneath the mask, wants to wipe the sweat off his palms. That’s how it could get worse. 

Your nostrils flare as you turn away, your hands flexing while you shake your head. “Get out of here, Ethan.” 

“Oh, of course that’s where you draw the line,” Ethan mocks. “When I bring up fuckin’ Peter Parker.” He pauses then chuckles. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” 

Peter nearly intervenes right then and there, wanting to stop this mess before Ethan does anything to hurt you. But revealing himself sounds like the worst possible thing to do, so for once he listens to the rational part of his brain over the emotional. 

“He’s not even here!” you retort. “I live with you, not him. I’m dating you, not him. Why are you bringing him up?” 

“Because I’m not blind.” Ethan crosses his arms. “Y’know, I thought you’d get over this little thing after you let me take you out, but for some reason, it’s exactly the same. I swear you spend more time with him than me.”

Your hands clench into fists. “Get out of here.” 

He scoffs. “You want me to leave you up here?” 

“Yes,” you nod. 

“God, you’ve been acting crazy this whole night!” he complains. “You’ll freeze up here. Just get over it—we’ll go back down, I’ll get you a beer—” 

“I hate beer.” 

“Then I’ll get you a fucking apple juice,” he spits. “Just stop being so dramatic.” 

“You’re not listening to me!” you shout. “I want you to leave me alone!” 

This time he says your name, and you shake your head. 

“Go back to the apartment,” you interrupt. “Because if I have to spend another second with you, our relationship might not make it through the night.”

For once, Ethan is silent as he stares at you. You stare back with no sign of giving up. Eventually, he just huffs and shakes his head. 

“Whatever.” He starts walking towards the door. “You better cool off up here, because I’m not dealing with this shit when you come back down.” 

You stare at the door for a good twenty seconds once he closes the door—slams it, rather—before you angrily kick a stray soda can. Your childhood days of rec soccer must still be in you, because you get an arc on it. Just before it can go over the side of the building, Peter shoots a web to catch it wholly on instinct. 

Your eyes widen as you dart around, and Peter is finally spotted from his place on top of the roof door building thing. What is that even called? He doesn’t really have time to think about it. The aluminum can crunches as it flies into his hand, and you stare at him in complete shock. 

“Uh,” his mouth suddenly feels very dry, but he has to make some excuse for why he’s up here, “littering is bad.” 

Good one, Parker. 

“You’re Spider-man,” you say, eyes still wide. 

“The one and only,” he nods. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble, finally seeming to break out of your shock as you cover your mouth and turn away. “Oh my god, Spider-man just heard my relationship falling apart.” 

“I didn’t hear anything!” Peter exclaims. “I—”

You shoot him the withering look he loves so much, that was able to get his bullies to shrink on the spot in high school—it feels weird being on the receiving end of it. 

“I’m not stupid,” you say. 

“I kn—” He has to stop himself from saying I know, because realistically Spider-man has no idea who you are. “I’m sorry.” 

You huff and cross your arms. “Do your superhero duties include eavesdropping on failing couples?” 

“It was an accident,” Peter says. “I was up here before you were. So technically, you were eavesdropping on my actual superhero duties.” 

You laugh, and he smiles just at the sound of it. One benefit to wearing the mask, because it would expose him right on the spot. “Oh yeah? And what are those?” 

“Patrolling the streets,” he says. “I’ve got a very good vantage point from up here.” 

You hum, your mood turning a bit more morose as you glance away. “Well, I’m sorry you had to hear all that during your patrol.” 

“I’m sorry you had to go through it,” he says. “Your boyfriend sounds like an asshole.” 

You roll your eyes. “He’s fine, most of the time. Just had a little bit too much to drink.” 

Peter will never understand why you defend Ethan so much. You’ve been together since freshman year and he’s only gotten worse since then—maybe he hides how he is around you, because he hasn’t really shied away from showing Peter how much he hates him this past year.

“He looked pretty sober to me,” Peter says. “And trust me, I have plenty of experience fighting guys that have had too much to drink.” 

You huff. “What are you, a spider-therapist?” 

“I’m good at a lot of things,” he says. “And I’m always good for bending an ear.”

“Surely you have better things to do than listen to me complain.” 

Peter shakes his head. “My schedule’s pretty clear right now, actually.”

“Really?” you marvel. “There’s no crime in New York City at,” you check your watch, “11:37 pm?”

“Absolutely none,” he says. “I solved it all. At least for now.”

You laugh again at that and gesture with your head as you walk over to the edge of the roof. “Then I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Peter jumps down and follows you over. You hoist yourself on top of the wall, legs dangling over the edge, and he feels himself frown as he leans his back against the wall and looks up at you. 

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” 

“You’ll catch me if I fall,” you say. 

“Obviously,” Peter says. “I’m supposed to encourage safe behavior in New Yorkers, though.” 

You laugh and tilt your head up towards the night sky. The moonlight reflects in your eyes and Peter knows he could get lost in them forever. “Just this once, then.” 

“I think I can let it slide.” 

“Good.” 

A comfortable beat of silence passes between the two of you, and Peter finds himself smiling. No wonder he ended up at your place out of instinct. There’s nothing else like your company. 

“I always think it’ll be different,” you murmur. Peter glances up at you, your expression shifted to something more melancholic. “We’ll have a good day, which’ll turn into a good week and a good month, but he always does something to mess it up. It’s like it’s in his DNA.” 

He stays silent as you think. Most of the time when you rant to Peter, you just want to be heard, not given advice. At this point, he’s an expert at listening to you. It’s not like he minds. 

“I want things to work out. I— I still love him. I mean, I think I do. But everything is a fucking struggle with him. If I don’t do things the exact way he wants, if I try to do something for me instead of him, if I can’t read his fucking mind, then he loses it and we argue. And I’m so fucking tired of arguing!” 

Your voice has risen by now, and you bite down hard on your cheek. Peter doesn’t realize he’s started reaching towards you to comfort you until you look back down at him, and he runs his hand over his head in an effort to cover it up. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I promise, I’m a much nicer person than this. You just caught me at the worst time.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I know.”

Your brows rise. “Spider-man knows I’m a nice person?”

“I can just tell,” he rushes, trying to save himself. He’s doing a real good job at not revealing his identity. “I’m good at reading people.”

You chuckle and shake your head, then adjust your position so your back is towards the open air. It makes Peter nervous, he can’t lie, but it’s not like he’s not a superhero. 

“So, spider-therapist,” you say. “Any advice?” 

So this is one of the rare times you do want answers. Peter wonders if you’ll leave your boyfriend if Spider-man tells you to. 

“He doesn’t sound great,” Peter says, inclining his head. “How many times have you argued this week?” 

“Four,” you say. “Five, if you include tonight.” 

He whistles. “And it’s only Wednesday.”

You tip your shoulder. “We’re efficient.” 

“And unhappy, it sounds like.” 

“We’re not unhappy,” you defend. “We’re just…” 

“You’re up here talking to me instead of down there with him,” Peter says wryly. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘happy couple’.” 

You shake your head with another sigh. “It’s because he can’t get over Peter.” 

He tries to act as nonchalant as possible when you bring him up. Is this an invasion of privacy? Letting you talk to him about all this when you have no idea who Spider-man actually is? 

Instead of floundering over moral qualms, he just clears his throat. “And who’s he?” 

“My best friend,” you say. “The one person who’s been by my side since the second I moved to New York. He means everything to me.”

Peter feels his heart skip a beat. “Yeah?” 

“He’s like— like the opposite of Ethan, and it’s wonderful. I guess that’s why Pete irks him so much. Y’know,” you pull out your phone and start typing in your password, “maybe I should call him. He always knows what to say.” 

“No!” Peter exclaims with a bit too much force, causing you to give him a look. “No— I mean, it’s late. He’s probably asleep. And— and it’s a school night?” 

You tilt your head, and Peter exhales when it seems to work. “True. He’s probably studying for that biochem test.” You grimace. “I should be doing that too.” 

He watches you type out a few texts and send them, and Peter’s never been more thankful to have his phone on silent. What a way that would be to blow his cover. 

You shove your phone back in your pocket with another sigh. “I just hate that my boyfriend and my best friend don’t get along. I love them both—why can’t they like each other?” 

“I mean…” Peter trails off when you look at him, and he gestures with his head. “It seems pretty obvious why they don’t get along.” 

“Yeah,” you say dryly. “Because Ethan thinks Peter likes me, and he probably thinks I have some secret crush on him too. I swear, he’s always looking for a reason to fight.” 

God, could the universe be calling him out any more? It’s honestly ridiculous how this is going. 

“Do you?” Peter asks, because he can’t help himself. “Like him, I mean.” 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I love Pete, I do. It’s always been the two of us no matter what. But I…”

He holds his breath as he tries not to look at you, tries not to make it too obvious that he might have stumbled his way into his simultaneous dream and nightmare scenario. 

He’s had a crush on you for what feels like forever. Since you stood up for him against his bullies in elementary school, honestly, and it’s only grown over the years as the two of you have grown. From recesses spent together and bike rides through the city; spending the night in Peter’s apartment because it was easier for your sister to let it happen than try and drag you back home; endless nights with heads bent over textbooks trying to study for tests, over college applications trying to get into the same place, and now studying and researching near every damn weekend together because you’re both unfortunate enough to try for ESU STEM degrees. 

You were there when Ben died. He’s there on every anniversary of your parents’ accident. Without knowing it, you were there when he got bit and his whole life turned upside down. 

You and Peter have been there every step of the way for each other, and it’s why he’s content with just friendship—Peter wants you in his life no matter what. But he can’t lie and say he doesn’t hope. 

No, actually. He yearns. He’s doomed to be a yearner for the rest of his life because he’ll never stop loving you. How could he? 

“I’m not sure,” you finally say with a sigh. “All I know is that I’d rather be with Pete tonight than Ethan.”

Peter wonders if your chest compressions are still as good as they were in high school, because he feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. 

You’d rather be spending tonight with him than your boyfriend of two years and seven months, and Peter isn’t even supposed to know. 

You mistake his silent freakout for nonchalance, and you clear your throat as you jump back onto solid ground. 

“Well, I’ve spilled my soul to you,” you say wryly, crossing your arms. “Anything a superhero can spill in return?”

Peter thinks for a good, long second. His hands itch to take off his mask, to do what he’s wanted to do since he got bitten by that stupid spider and show you who he really is. 

How many times has he been a total asshole, canceling plans on you because he had to go stop some supervillain from wreaking havoc in Times Square? How many times has he been late to something important to you because he was caught up stopping dime a dozen muggings? He still remembers the look on your face when he showed up just in time to miss the entirety of Les Mis’s opening night with your first lead role. 

You were a better best friend to Peter than he was to you because of this stupid mask. If he took it off, it wouldn’t make every mistake fade away, but it would sure help explain some of it. 

But Peter has been doing this since high school, and he has seen far too many times what happens to the loved ones of heroes. They’re used as leverage, used for ransom, sometimes just straight up killed.

You’ve been friends with Peter since you and your sister moved into the apartment next to May’s thirteen years ago. It doesn’t matter if you never share Peter’s feelings. You’re one of the only constants in his life, and he’s not going to lose you because he’s too selfish to keep a secret. 

Losing you would be the last straw. He couldn’t take it. 

So Peter pushes all thoughts of secret identities revealed out of his mind and tries to chuckle convincingly. 

“I’m allergic to peppermint, believe it or not.” 

You stare at him, deadpan. “That’s nowhere close to all the shit I just gave you.” 

“It’s true!” he exclaims, holding up his hands. “Happened after I got bit by the spider. They’re repelled by peppermint oil, and I guess I am too.” 

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Spider-man is a coward.” 

“A superhero’s gotta have some secrets,” he says, and he taps the side of his head. “Otherwise this thing doesn’t do much good.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “Whatever.” 

A chill suddenly goes up Peter’s spine and he whips around—he can hear a distant scream followed by a distant gunshot, and he mentally curses. 

“Duty calls?” you ask, drawing his attention back to you. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry—” 

“Don’t be.” You smile, and it’s genuine. A nice change from the state Ethan effortlessly puts you in. “You went out of your way to cheer me up. Pretty super of you.” 

“I hope it makes up for the eavesdropping,” he says. 

“More than,” you nod. “Now get out of here. Your city needs you.” 

Peter nods too, and he backflips onto his original spot. “Have a good night. You’re real special to somebody.” 

He’s gone before you can say anything else, already zipping across the rooftops to get to the scene of the crime. Peter can only think of your face as he swings through the air—all the things he’s too scared to say to you. 

The crime, which turns out to be yet another petty theft, is resolved easily enough with some punches, kicks, and a snappy one-liner. Once he’s retrieved the woman’s purse and alerted the police, he’s back in the sky. 

Peter only stops once he’s swung a couple miles away, perching on the edge of some rooftop for some actual peace and quiet. He checks around once or twice to make sure he’s not somehow back at your place, and when he’s sure it’s all clear, he pulls his phone out. He swipes past all the notifications he’s racked up until he finds the one he’s looking for: the texts from you. 

hey pete, I know you’re prob asleep rn but you were right. I really need to study for that test lol

wanna meet me at the library tomorrow after QM? I’ll buy the coffee this time i promise <3 

as long as you use your roomie’s dining dollars to get me a croissant lol 

Peter can’t help but smile, larger than anything tonight. This is why he’s okay with being nothing but your friend for the rest of his life. 

Deal. Anything to get you an A 

lol

asshole 

Never 

Try to get some sleep. No good studying on a tired brain 

Three dots appear for a good long second, enough to constitute a decent paragraph—then they disappear. In its place: 

I’ll try just for you 

night boy genius

(How could he not love you?) 

Night, girl wonder

[sunnami]

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 

You blink. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say. 

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 

“I know.” Harry grins. 

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 

“Oi!” 

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!” 

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 

Harry’s eye twitches. 

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 

“In your dreams!” You shrill. 

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 

Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 

“One date, then.” 

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 

“And I want to—” 

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He falls in love.) 

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.” 

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

[miabebe]

My Girlfriend Faked Her Amnesia (Wen Junhui)

Reverse Trope Series Installment 4

It wasn’t always that life gave one the chance to hit reset, but now that Jun had gotten it, he didn’t have long before time ran out - 10 days to valentine's day which meant 10 chances to make his amnesiac girlfriend remember him again. But it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk - after all, how could one be reminded of the past if they were only pretending to forget?

Pairing - Wen Junhui x afab! Reader

Word Count- 29k

Genre - Heavy angst, romance, hurt comfort, mild humor and as usual, yes, smut - This piece is lowkey inspired by the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind!

Warnings - Car accident, mentions of blood, memory loss, hospital setting

A/n - Hello my loves! This is my bit for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab hosted by the wonderful @camandemstudios, my first ever collab! Please do also check out the stories by all the other writers - everyone has been working super hard on this! I hope you enjoy this piece and leave your thoughtsss :) To be added to the reverse tropes taglist, please comment under this post :)

Smut warnings - This is only the first half (12k) of the story and there is no smut in it yet. Warnings will be added for the second half!

The End: 27th December 2024 

"Careful!" 

You quickly swerved to the side of the road, the car screeching to a stop as the honking truck zoomed past you.

Fuck. Gripping the steering wheel tight, you let out a sigh of relief, your wandering thoughts returning to the present. That was close. 

The man beside you mumbled something under his breath as he unbuckled his seatbelt before alighting the car and opened your door, wordlessly asking you to get out.

You complied, allowing him to take over your role as the driver and quietly slid in the passenger seat.

Adjusting the mirror he glanced up and down the snow clad road before driving off into the darkness. Again, without saying a word. 

That's how things had been between the two of you for a while now. Silent. 

Some might say that after nearly 10 years of being together, the two of you didn't need words to communicate anymore, you just understood each other so well. But only you knew the reality - there was nothing left to say. Everything was at the edge of falling apart. 

You glanced down at your hands, fingers fidgeting. Yes it was cold but it was the emptiness that bothered you. 

Your boyfriend shot you a look before his hand hovered over the controls of the car. 

"Are you feeling cold?" 

See, he didn't understand. He never seemed to understand. And you were tired of explaining but a tiny voice in your head said to try just once more. 

"My mum was asking why there's no ring yet?" Caressing the fingers of your left hand, you looked up, far off at the skies where the morning sun still hadn't made its way up. 

“And what did you say?” 

You turned to him, not hiding the incredulous expression donning your face, “What am I supposed to say Jun?” He looked straight ahead, eyes more focused on the road than required. “How does one answer a question like this?” 

His Adam's apple bobbed with his gulp. “That....we’re not ready?” 

“And looking at us, who will buy that?” 

Jun kept quiet again, perhaps because he knew you were right.

The two of you had been together for the majority of your lives which meant your families, friends, colleagues all were a consistent witness of your relationship. Even over the last week, when you were spending Christmas with your family at the ski cabin, your sister wouldn’t stop talking about how you two were perfect for one another. She didn’t know that behind closed doors, in the privacy of your room, the two of you slept with your backs facing each other.

Jun sighed, noticing you were getting lost in your thoughts again. “Why do we have to justify ourselves to anyone anyways Y/n? This is our life-” 

“You’re right, there’s no need to justify anything to anyone. But you can tell me why, right?” You half turned towards him, leaning against the car door. “You and I can talk about why we’re nearing our thirties and still haven’t made any decision about getting married?” 

“Jesus, twenty five is not considered thirties Y/n." He rolled his eyes exasperated. "Besides, what does age have to do with marriage? Getting married should be something that we decide because we want to spend our lives with each other.”

You blinked at him. “Then do you not want to spend your life with-”

“I did not say that.” He glanced at you before quickly looking back at the road. “Of course, I do. Baby, you and I live together, we do everything together, we are as good as married-”

“So then a wedding would just be a formality right-”

“No, it would be a show!” You flinched a little as he raised his voice, annoyed. “It would be to show the world something, to prove to others that we are committed and will last through it all, as though signing a few documents is a guarantee of that.”

“Marriage isn’t just about that Jun. Do you have any idea how many things will become easier - buying a house, getting loans, so many logistics-”

He scoffed, shaking his head slowly. “That’s what marriage is to you? A practical, logical, legal binding?” 

Biting your lower lip you let out a deep breath. “If you think it should mean much more or that it should be made purely on emotions then what’s stopping you? Or do you not love me anymore-”

“Why would you say that?” He groaned, like he was tired of this conversation. “I do love you, more than anything. Which is why I want you to be able to focus on yourself without taking the burden of a marriage. I want you to fulfill all the dreams you have for your career, for your professional growth-”

“Jun, I can do all of that while being married too-”

“Marriage changes people! It changes priorities, it changes expectations-”

“So that’s what you’re afraid of? Expectations? Because I expect you to be a bit more responsible? To get your act together-”

“It won’t stop at that will it?” He sighed. “This is all our life is going to be - First it’ll be about dividing household chores, who’ll do dishes, who’ll take out the trash. Next it’ll be about finding the perfect house and having children-” 

“We’ve talked about this and you said you didn’t have a problem with having children Jun.” You snapped at him, triggered at his words. “I’m not getting any younger here-”

“And I’ve not grown up!” He slammed the wheel with his hand. “I do want to have kids someday but not now, not any time soon. I… I can barely look after myself, how am I going to look after a child? And if I’m incapable it will mean that you will have to carry the burden of it all - of raising the child, of me and of yourself and I don’t want that for you.”

You fell silent again, realising that the conversation was going just like it always did.

You would go on to insist that you were ready for whatever was to come and the time was right now, Jun would insist that he isn’t willing to let you take on so much and that marriage shouldn’t be about timing, it should be about wanting to be with each other. You would then claim he’s being too emotionally driven about this and he would claim that you were being too practical and the conversation would just be about the two of you justifying your point of views, reaching no conclusion. 

This is what happened every single time. This was what was going to happen again now. And frankly, you were tired of it. 

“When did we start wanting such different things?” You glanced at the road that disappeared into the darkness. The early morning light was not enough to illuminate the path ahead. “I thought…. we were perfect for each other, that we were meant to be. After nearly ten years, where did it all go wrong?”

You didn’t mean for it to sound hurtful, but Jun had always been the sensitive one.  

“Just because we’re not in the same frame of mind right now, doesn’t mean all the years we shared mean nothing.”

“But what does it mean?” You smiled sadly. “We aren’t growing, we aren’t able to help each other grow, what was the point of it all? Ten years and…. we achieved nothing.” 

It was like you were leaving arrow after arrow to pierce his heart - he knew you were the reasonable kind - always planning, always making lists, always marking milestones. Whatever you were saying now, had to be the result of a moment of frustration, not because you were questioning the love that you had for each other…. right? 

You weren’t regretting this, were you? 

He let out the breath he was holding. “Then maybe it would have been better if the last ten years didn’t happen at all.” 

Please say I’m wrong Y/n. Please say prove me wrong, please say we’re worth it. 

Although you were never really one to be driven by emotions, Jun always was. The one who never forgot anniversaries, the one who always tried to make every moment special, the one who always reminded you that you were not each other’s habits but each other’s love. Had things gone so far that the man who savoured every moment of being in love with you, thought it was better that you never met? 

“Is that what you really think?” You whispered, ignoring the feeling of something pricking the back of your eyes. 

Jun turned to you surprised. How could you even think that? Of course not-

“Careful!” 

Headlights beamed from right across, but this time, Jun’s quick swerve was not enough. 

As the car skidded wildly, with a sickening crunch it slammed into the side of the oncoming truck, the momentum sending it toppling over, rolling violently onto its roof with a screech of metal. As it came to a stop, the sun rose from above the clouds far away and steam rose from what was remaining of the crumpled vehicle. In the heavy stillness that followed, alongside the eerie whisper of the wind, streams of red mixed with the white of the snow. 

Your boyfriend’s hand extending towards you was the last thing you saw before everything went black. 

The Afterlife: 31st December 2024 

Pain. 

Unbearable pain. 

That's what was searing through his body, over and over again. Everywhere, in every inch…. Just pain. 

Perhaps because he hadn’t stopped running. 

Jun had been running in the forest for what seemed like forever. Where to? He had no idea. Where from? He didn’t know that either. 

All he knew was he was looking for something he had lost. Something clearly precious to him. Something he couldn’t live without. 

Yet ignorantly, he kept running. Until....

Jun.

Your voice echoed around him like a soft whisper. Finally stopping by the lake, he looked around, frantically trying to find you. 

It was then, across the frozen crystal clear waters he saw you - beautiful as ever, the only bright thing in the dark, daunting woods. 

He wanted to go to you, he wanted to be with you but the slippery ice didn’t let him take a step forward. 

Instead, you took a step back. 

Then another one. 

Then another. 

Jun continued to call out your name, trying to stop you from receding into the shadows but in vain. Slowly you disappeared into the darkness, the black of the woods engulfing you as Jun fell to his knees, the ice cracking under him. 

Shutting his eyes, he attempted to stop the pain but it only got worse. It was just pain, pain, pain. 

When he opened them, white flickering lights were strangely swaying above him. 

Blinking, Jun tried to see clearly but just then, the ice finally gave away, submerging him into the cold waters. 

As the icy waters of the lake dragged him down, Jun felt his eyes slowly shut again and your name was the last thing he remembered.

The Awakening: 27th January 2025 

The blur flickering light of the ceiling became clear as the rhythmic beeping of machines slowly pulled him from the depths of unconsciousness.

Head throbbing and body aching, an unsettling sense of disorientation washed over him, like he had been asleep for too long. Slowly raising himself on his elbows, Jun looked around, eyes finding the strange setting of a hospital room, the overwhelming smell of antiseptic finally hitting him. 

Shutting his eyes again, he tried to recollect what happened, how he ended up here……

“Y/n…” 

The argument. 

The crash.

The sight of your eyes fluttering shut as blood trickled down your face. 

“Fuck.” He mumbled, looking at all the tubes and wires attached to him, holding him back. Without an ounce of care, he tugged them off, triggering the loud alarms of the machines but before his feet even touched the cold tile of the floor, the doors flung open and a handful of people donning impeccably white coats spilled in, looking worried.

“Sir, please don’t-”

“Where’s Y/n?”

“You need to calm down, you’re not ok-”

He grabbed the collar of the man before him. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Where is Y/n?”

“We…” The doctor looked terrified. “Who is Y/n?”

Annoyed, Jun tugged on his shirt harder. “The car crash, there was a woman with me in the car, in the passenger seat, where is she?” 

“What woman?” The man stuttered, looking at his team confused. “You were brought to our hospital alone.” 

Shocked, Jun loosened his grip, allowing the doctor to quickly move back, putting himself at an arm’s distance. 

Alone?

“That’s not possible….” He muttered. “She was with me, she should be here…” 

“The accident happened in the countryside so you were taken to the nearest emergency care but your injuries were too severe so they shifted you here, to the city hospital.” The doctor looked at him slightly hesitating. “Maybe there was a woman with you, but she wasn’t brought here. Either her condition wasn’t serious enough or she didn’t….”

Eyes narrowing, Jun looked at the shivering man before him. “She didn’t, what?”

“S-she didn’t make it-”

“How dare you?” He spoke between gritted teeth, charging towards the doctor, only to be quickly held back by the nurses around him. “How dare you even suggest something like that-”

“Mr. Junhui, I was only stating the possibility-”

“What you’re saying is not possible-”

“Sir please, your heart rate is getting erratic-”

“I don’t care, I need to find her-”

“You can’t leave.”

“Stop me if you can.” Jun pulled himself free from the grip of those around him, leaving for the door, glaring at the crowd challengingly. 

Only one of them dared to step forward - a woman, one not wearing a doctor’s coat, looking at him with sympathy rather than fear. 

“Sir please….” She whispered softly, slowly approaching him, ignoring the worried looks of those around her. “I understand your worry and I’m so sorry for this but you need to calm down…. I have no other choice.” 

Jun frowned as she neared, maintaining a strong, unavoidable eye contact, the contents of her hands completely missing his vision. Before he could understand what was happening, there was a prick in his arm, hands reaching out to him and the flickering light blurred again as his eyes shut. 

28th January 2025

“Let me go.” 

The events from about 24 hours ago had repeated again. 

The fluttering lights, the machines, the wires, the tubes, the doctors - everything happened in the same sequence except there was one difference this time. When Jun tried to pull on the wires and swing his legs off the bed, he found all four of his limbs restrained. 

“Please.” He whispered. “I need to find Y/n.”

“Sir, there really was no woman brought along with you.” The woman’s eyes reflected the same sympathy they had since the day he had been wheeled in. “We got your records from the emergency center you were taken to.” 

Pulling out a bunch of papers from a file, she placed it on his lap. “There was a woman with you but she was discharged from there within a week.”

“A-a week?” Jun stuttered, looking around. “How long has it been since the accident?” 

“Almost…” She looked at the papers thoughtfully. “Almost a month. You’ve been unconscious all this while, you sustained a traumatic injury to your-”

“What about Y/n?” 

Stepping up and reading through the papers, the doctor from earlier spoke with his expertise. “She had a severe injury on her head too but she gained consciousness about a week after the accident and she…. just left.” 

“Just left?” It felt as though something cold was just dumped on his head. “Just left me?” 

“Mr. Jun, we’re not sure what exactly happened but….” The woman looked at him uncertainly. “The last few weeks that you were here, no woman has come to visit you. Y/n hasn’t been around.” 

Jun let out a shaky breath, “She probably didn’t know I was here. She… she must be looking for me, she must be so worried. I should go to her-” 

“You’re not well enough to leave.” The doctor spoke from behind the woman, worried even though Jun’s movements were restrained. “I wouldn’t suggest-” 

“I don’t want your suggestion. I want you to open these-” He tugged on the belts. “-so I can go.” 

Everyone exchanged looks, shifting in their places.

“Open them!” 

“Again, I’m sorry Mr. Jun.” The woman approached him slowly, an injection clearly visible in her hand this time. “This is for your good.” 

Once again, everything became blur before it all went dark. 

31st January 2025

“She didn’t pick the call.” The woman without a coat, who’s name Jun learnt was Mira, walked up to him. “Again.” 

Sighing, Jun looked outside the window. The streets were busy - cars were going up and down, people were walking about, some laughing, some stressed. But everything was moving, everyone was moving. Only his life had come to a standstill. 

“Do you remember anyone else’s number?” 

Jun shook his head. “Who even memorises numbers these days? Everything is stored on my phone-”

“-which broke in the accident.” She finished for him. 

“I only remember my girlfriend’s number because she forced me to remember it in case of emergencies like these.” He chuckled softly, walking up to the wall with the pictures of the two of you stuck all over. He ran his fingers over the picture of you hugging him from behind, head resting on his shoulder. “She was always so well prepared, always a step ahead….. except now.”

When Jun woke up 3 days ago, Mira had been there to tell him you were nowhere to be found. She had looked for you at home, which had been abandoned for over a month, at the library where you often worked on your projects, at the stores where you preferred to shop, at the park where you jogged every morning. You were nowhere. 

Your family was nowhere to be seen either - the house was locked and the neighbours claimed they had gone somewhere overseas. There was no trace of you at all - it was like you had vanished into thin air, like you were just a mirage, a dream. 

“I wish I could help Jun.” Mira walked up to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, looking around his apartment. “I’m sorry the only thing I could assist you with is getting you back home. But I had someone clean up the place so it should be more habitable now.” 

“Thank you Mira, for everything.” He muttered, slowly moving her arm away, tearing his eyes away from the photographs. “I’m sorry, I… I think I should….. shower, I smell like the hospital.” 

She nodded as Jun disappeared into the washroom, wordlessly asking her to leave. Grabbing her bag, she shot him one last sad look as she hesitatingly made her way out. 

Standing before the mirror, Jun sighed at his reflection - he had never seen himself look this lifeless. Wincing in pain, he removed his shirt slowly, pulling it over his head - almost healed gashes and wounds were littered all over his torso. 

The memory of an injured you flashed behind his shut eyes.

“Where are you Y/n?” He whispered, trying not to let his voice shake. “Come back to me.” 

Jun glanced at the small coffee shop across the road, one he had never seen before, the hanging sign board slowly swaying in the cold wind - Lonely Hearts Cafe. 

So many things had changed over the last month. He, who was the biggest homebody known to mankind, could not bear to stay in his house for another minute. Not where every inch of it was filled with the essence of you, where everything was a reminder of you. A part of him was relieved that there were pictures and traces of you were everywhere - that meant you were real, not a figment of his imagination…. but that also made your absence hurt more. 

He had spent the last few hours wandering the streets mindlessly, trying not to let everything outside the haven the two of you built together remind him of you too. 

But there you were, in your favourite pizza shop on the corner of the street, munching on a slice. Just as he approached, shocked and frantic, you disappeared, like you were never there. And then he saw you again, at the hairdressers this time, getting just the ends trimmed, like always. And then you were by the butchers, petting that little dog you adored. And then by the lake, glancing at the frozen waters, vanishing as usual when he approached to stand by you. Even though you weren’t really around, his eyes found the memories of you everywhere - it was like he didn’t know a life without you. 

There was no life without you.  

The cafe he was currently staring at was perhaps the only place that Jun knew he wouldn’t see you. It looked new, like a business that had just freshly found itself in this vicinity but something about it was also whimsical and fairytale-like, as though it was someone’s old dream came true. Jun had never been a coffee kinda guy - Chinese tea was usually his go-to beverage so it didn’t make sense why he felt this strange urge to go in. Maybe because he knew he wouldn’t be haunted by your absence there.

At first, he took a step ahead, attempting to go towards it but he was unable to take another - he didn’t want to not see you. Even though it hurt, he’d rather see the memories of you everywhere than familiarise himself with a life without you. 

So shaking his head, he turned away, heading back home, going back to everything that reminded him of you when…… something caught his eye. 

At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him again because there was no way…. 

Inching closer, ignoring the oncoming traffic and the screaming drivers, he crossed the road, standing right before the large glass windows of the shop. Slowly raising his hand, he wiped the condensation off the frosted glass, catching a clear sight of what was inside. 

You. 

There you were, walking about in a little checkered apron, placing cups of coffee on the table as you flashed your bright smile at those who were seated. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jun turned around, fists tightened painfully. You’ll disappear again, just like all those times before, you’ll disappear again, he was just imagining this, projecting his innermost desire. You weren’t really here….right? 

But the sound of your laughter told him he was wrong. Quickly turning back, he caught sight of you again, making your way to the counter, putting cash into a large glass jar on the wooden shelf. 

As though in a trance, Jun walked over to the door and pushed it open, eyes not leaving you as you laughed and scribbled something down on a notepad before walking to the tables with a bounce in your strut he had never seen before. 

Just as your name found itself on the tip of his tongue, you stopped your tracks and turned around, eyes finding him walking in, lips curling with a wide smile. 

“Hi sir, welcome to Lonely Hearts Cafe.” Clutching the notepad to your chest, you beamed at him. “Do you want to take a seat or get a drink to go?” 

“Y/n…” He whispered, barely able to hear himself, taking a small step ahead.

“Oh I almost forgot,” You softly smacked your head. “If you’re interested, we’re having a small valentines special event, for singles. Any two people who get the exact same drink will be paired to sit at the same table. It’s kind of a ‘if your tastes match, maybe you guys will too’ sort of concept?” 

Given he was staring at you with a vacant expression, you blinked at him like you weren’t quite sure if he understood. 

Jun didn’t understand. Why were you behaving like he was a stranger? Like you didn’t know him. 

Maybe…. this wasn’t you.

“So…” Tucking your loose fringes behind your ear, you tried searching his face for an answer. “What would you like?” 

Jun’s eyes flickered to the healing gash on your forehead, the night of the accident, flashing in his mind again. 

It was you. There was no doubt it was you. 

And so without a second thought, Jun took two big strides, pulling you towards him, wrapping his arms around you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Excuse me?! Sir-”

“Where have you been?” He muttered, not realising you were struggling to break free from his grip. “I’ve been looking for you-”

“Get off me!” Using all your strength, you pushed him off you, causing the man to take a few staggering steps back, shocked. 

All heads in the cafe turned towards the two of you, a strange silence descending upon the room before hushed whispers broke out. Flashing a fake smile at everyone, you quickly grabbed Jun by his wrist, leading him out of the cafe, shutting the door behind you. 

“What the hell was that?” You glared at him. “Sir, I don’t know who you think you are, but that was unacceptable.” 

Jun blinked at you confused. “I thought….I thought-” 

“I don’t care what you thought.” You crossed your arms looking stern, all the warmth from earlier having left your being. “If I ever see you in my cafe again, I swear to god I will call the cops.”

“You…” Jun looked at you incredulously. “You’ll call the cops on me?” 

“Most definitely.” 

It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Why would you call the cops on him? Were you mad at him about something?

Jun’s racked his mind, trying to think of the last conversation the two of you had. The night of the accident. He couldn’t remember all too well, but the image of you glancing at your empty ring finger flashed in his mind. 

“Is this about….getting married?” You frowned as Jun ran his hands through his hair. “If it really means this much to you then, fine, let’s get married. I just wanted it to be-”

“Married?” You looked at him like you couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Why on Earth would I marry you? I don’t even know you-”

“Jun!” 

At the sound of his name, Jun turned around, only to find himself being slammed into the familiar chest of a tall, lanky man. The fragrance of expensive perfume immediately told him who it was - His best friend Minghao. As Jun tried to break free from his friend’s untimely interruption, Minghao held him tight, whispering in his ear. 

“Don’t say a word.” 

“Mr. Xu.” You glanced at the intertwined figures of both men, eyebrows furrowed. “You know this man?” 

“Y/n.” Breaking free, Minghao threw his arm around Jun, flashing a hard smile. “This is Jun, he’s a dear friend. Sorry if he said anything or got out of line - he was just discharged from the hospital after a big accident, he’s a bit disoriented.” 

“Oh.” You looked at him up and down as though it all made sense and you were unable to decide whether to feel sympathetic or stand your ground. “Mr. Jun, I’m sorry you went through all that but whatever you did, that was not appropriate at all.” 

“Y/n what-”

“Yes of course.” Minghao squeezed Jun’s shoulder, shutting him up. “He won’t be troubling you again.” 

“If you really do need a cup of coffee, there are a lot more shops down the street that I’m sure will suit your taste.” You took a step back, reaching for the door again, expression unreadable. “Please don’t come back to me.” 

With that you pushed the door open and disappeared into the cafe allowing Minghao to finally let go of his friend who turned to him, beyond confused. 

“What…. What was that?” He pointed at you, waiting the tables again inside, like nothing happened. Like he didn’t exist. 

“Jun…” Minghao let out a shaky breath, looking carefully at his friend. “Let’s go home, I’ll explain everything.”

“No.” Shaking his head frantically, he reached for the door again. “I’m not going anywhere without Y/n.” 

Moving quickly, Minghao put himself in between, blocking the way. 

“Please.” He held his hand out. “Y/n, she…. she won’t come with you.”

Jun looked at him incredulously. “Why not?” 

“Because she doesn’t remember….” Minghao spoke slowly, watching his friend’s face carefully. “She doesn’t remember you.” 

The throbbing pain was back. 

Actually, it never left. The pain was always there, it was him who had suppressed it under everything else. But with the revelation of things, it became unhinged, freely coursing in his being, hurting everywhere. 

Minghao poured Jun another cup of tea as the two men sat at the dining table, the latter still clutching a photo of you, trying to make sense of all that he was told. 

“She….she doesn’t remember me at all?” He frowned, still confused. “Because of…. you?” 

“Because she doesn’t want to.” Minghao corrected his friend, yet again. “Jun, it was her choice to do the procedure.”

The procedure. 

Minghao had spoken all about it in great detail for the last half an hour. It all went over his head though, Jun didn’t register a single piece of the information thrown at him except one thing - the procedure was to remove memories. 

Yes apparently that was a thing. A new initiative by Minghao’s company - a simple medical procedure in which one could choose to erase their memories of a certain period of time. A process straight out of the sci-fi books - one so ridiculous, Jun would have never believed it if it weren’t coming out of his best friend's mouth. 

That his girlfriend had gotten all her memories of him wiped from her mind. 

“It makes no sense.” Jun shook his head. “Why would she want to forget me? Why would she choose to…”

Minghao looked at his friend staring at your photo sadly. He had always known Jun to be someone full of life - he was ambitious, passionate and always bursting with energy. But now he looked like the whole world had come crashing around him. 

“I’m sorry Jun.” Minghao could feel the guilt eating him on the inside. “All of it happened in my company, right under my nose but I had no idea Y/n had gotten it done till it was all over. Maybe if I had reached the clinic just a little earlier, I could have stopped them from injecting the serum-”

“No Hao, whether you could stop her or not, it won’t change the fact that Y/n wanted to….” Jun swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “She didn’t want to just leave me or walk away from this relationship, she wanted to erase its entire existence from her life. To pretend like it never happened. But why…”

“I wish I knew Jun.” Minghao shook his head softly. “All I know is that this choice mustn't have been easy for her - to forget you she had to have the last 10 years of her life removed. That’s how far she was willing to go to…”

Minghao's words rang in his ears. 

10 years….

Maybe it would have been better if the last ten years didn’t happen at all.

The night of the accident…. that's what he had said. 

Oh god, was that why you….

What had he done? 

“Jun?” Minghao snapped his fingers before his friend's face. “Where are you lost-”

“This was a mistake.” Jun shook his head. “This was all a horrible misunderstanding. I didn’t mean…”

“Mean what?” 

Jun couldn’t even recall why he had said that. It was like his brain was suppressing the stupidity from recurring. 

“I need to talk to her. I need to fix this.”

“How exactly-”

“I’ll marry her, right this instant if that’s what it takes-”

“Jun no-”

“Hao, yes.” He turned to his friend, determined. “I can fix it. I can talk to her and sort this out. Just help me put her memories back again-”

“That’s not-”

“-and I’ll make her see how much I love her-” 

“Jun, that's not possible.” Minghao raised his voice, interrupting his friend’s rant. “Dealing with memories isn’t child’s play. It's one thing to remove them, but to restore them? That’s impossible.”

It felt like everything around was shattering. “You mean she won't ever….”

Minghao shook his head, delivering the final blow. “She won't… ever.” 

Jun stared at the photo in his hand. 

Minghao, who had insisted on staying the night, had hit the shower, his tea sitting cold in its cup. 

Cold draft was blowing in through the open kitchen window. The tips of his fingers were frozen but they were not colder than the thing wrapping around his heart, eating it away.  

Minghao’s last words as he was lingering by the door rang in his ears. 

“Y/n chose to forget you Jun, she chose to restart her life. Maybe it’s best that you do too.” 

Restart his life? Pretend like you didn’t exist and move on? How on Earth was he supposed to do that? 

He glanced at the room around him - at the pictures of you on the walls, at the vase you brought back from your trip to spain, at the coasters you always made sure to use, at the rug you specifically had made to match the couch, at every single thing in his life that was a testament of you. How was he supposed to forget all of it? 

But the truth was, you had forgotten it all. You had walked out of his life, your home and everything the two of you had built together over the last 10 years. None of this around him meant anything to you anymore. 

You had built a new world for yourself, one which Jun had reached, lost in his thoughts. The cafe, the coffee, the customers, the infectious smile on your face, the little bounce in strut, the way your hair fell over your shoulder as you’d turn - you had built something that had no trace of him but more importantly, you looked so happy. Jun couldn’t remember the last time he saw you smile this wide, or even laugh at something stupid. The winter was harsh on the city outside but everything around you seemed so warm. 

Maybe Minghao was right. Maybe it was best that he forgot it all too. 

1st February 2025 

“Where do I put this?” 

Jun turned to Mira who was holding up a bunch of books in her arms. 

“They're all cookbooks, but I'm not sure whether to put it in the box with her law books or in the one with magazines.”

“We can just leave these out.” Taking them from here, Jun walked into the kitchen. “We don't have to put away everything.” 

Sighing Mira followed him. “Jun, boss said everything. Everything that belongs to her, everything that reminds you of her.” 

Jun stared at the books in his hands. Two hours ago, he was sprawled on the couch half asleep, your scarf wrapped around his hand, a frame with your photo in his arms. Much to his annoyance, the consistent ringing of the bell forced him to drag himself to the door and standing on the other side was Mira. 

Jun didn't think he would ever have any reason to see her again but apparently, Mira wasn't just a random hospital staff who helped him - she was in fact Minghao's employee, a psychiatrist who worked in his Memory Wipe project and was asked by him to look after Jun till he came around, as a favour. That day when she left the apartment, she had immediately told Minghao about all that happened - that's how he found his friend declaring he was ready to marry you in front of the coffee shop. Mira though, had no idea about you or that you had your memories wiped - she only found out when Minghao, who left early in the morning for a meeting, sent her over to Jun’s house with a new phone and a contract. A contract to obliterate the last 10 years of his memories. 

“You want me to erase her existence?” Jun furiously muttered into the phone. “How did you even think-” 

“Will you be able to survive with her memories?” Even though he couldn't see his face, Jun knew Minghao was donning a sorry expression. “It'll kill slowly you, Jun. Not being able to be with her, not being able to forget her, not being able to move on. If I had to name something worse than hell, this is it.”

For long after the call ended, Jun stared at the contact papers on the coffee table, his mind disturbed. As much as he didn't want to distance himself from you, could he really live with the fact that you'll never be his again? It had been barely 2 days since he was awake and he was already at the verge of losing his mind. Maybe it was better he too forgot it all. 

But it also pained him to think that if both of you forgot everything, then there was no one who truly knew the kind of pure and unwavering love the two of you shared over the last ten years. At least for the sake of those, he had to stay strong, he had to live with this. But could he really? 

And it was thoughts like this that had him rooted to his chair for over an hour. 

“You don't have to decide now.” Mira interrupted his cycle of thought, tired of watching his unmoving figure. “The procedure is simple. I already have the 10 year formula ready in your name. All you have to do is just come by the centre when you're ready - one injection and it'll be done.” 

As much as Jun was grateful for the time, there was one thing Minghao wanted him to do immediately - clear the apartment of anything and everything that belonged to you. That's what the two of them were in the middle of right now as Mira glanced at the cookbooks in his hands. 

“Jun, whether or not you want to get the Memory Wipe, you need to get rid of all these things. You won't ever move on otherwise-” 

“They're cookbooks.” Jun rolled his eyes, placing them on the shelf of the kitchen. “Has it not occurred to you that I might use these myself?”

Mira stared at him like she didn't believe him but Jun ignored her. There was no way he was going to get rid of every last bit of you. What would be left of him then? 

All your clothes were packed and stashed in the store room, all the pictures of the two of you were taken down, your books, your things, everything was sealed and locked away. Except a few that Jun refused to let go - the lavender cream you used every night, the harmonica you loved to play, the cookbooks you swore would make you a better chef than him. Jun didn't have the heart to walk away from all of it just yet. 

Giving up, Mira began walking away. “I'm going to put her shoes away.” 

“Wait.” Aligning the books hurriedly, Jun quickly ran over to the closet. “Maybe just leave those heels.” 

Mira looked exasperated. “What use could you possibly have of women's footwear?”

Nothing. Jun just loved those black stilettos you wore to work - the sound of them against the wooden flooring was what told him you were home everyday. 

“Jun, this whole thing isn't just about you getting over Y/n. If you plan to do the Memory Wipe, you especially need to do this” Mira stood up sighing. “Imagine losing 10 years of your life and coming home and finding a woman's things all over. You won't remember her, you won't know what happened, you won't have any answers, it'll drive you mad. Please, listen to me, you need to get rid of it all.”

Jun turned away, peeling his eyes from the closet as Mira put the last of your footwear in the boxes, looking at him sadly. 

“How did Minghao even design this procedure?” Jun glanced at the contact papers fluttering on the table. “I knew he was indulging in some biomedical R&D, I had no idea it was this intense.” 

Mira chuckled. “Biomedical R&D barely covers the scope of what he does. Let's just say the Xu enterprises dabble in a lot of things and the Memory Wipe is their latest project. Actually its just undergoing it's last clinical trial - it’s not even advertised or available for the public.” 

“How did Y/n get to know about it then?” Jun frowned like it didn't make sense. “Minghao never talks business with me and I'm sure he's never mentioned it to her either. Then…”

“There were a bunch of lawyers involved in the legal aspects of the clinical trials.” Mira confessed, shrugging. “Maybe she heard from someone in the fraternity.” 

“Funny.” Jun smiled sadly. “Y/n has never been one for office gossip. She just liked to get her work done and head straight back home. It was always about efficiency and not wasting time.”

Mira smiled. “That's an admirable work ethic.” 

“Right? I wish I had that.” Jun glanced out of the window at the snow tumbling out of the sky. “Maybe she wouldn't have had to work so hard if I did.”

“What do you mean?” 

Jun glanced at Mira who had joined him, before continuing to stare out. 

“Y/n always believed in working hard. For her, a job was simply a means to make money. She didn't associate it with dreams or passion, it was just… survival? Me on the other hand, ever since I was a child, all I wanted to do was be an actor. I spent the last, god knows how many years, chasing that dream, picturing myself before the cameras, walking down red carpets. If I look back at my life, all I see are auditions and rejections and more rejections.” 

“It's not wrong to want to live your dream.” 

“No it's not but I don't know how right it is to live with your head in the clouds. Y/n always had her feet on the ground - that was the only reason we survived through it all.” 

“So your story is the ‘opposites attract’ kind?” 

“I guess.” Jun laughed softly. “We were polar opposites actually. She hates talking, I'm always chatting away. She's a mess, I'm neat. She hates doing household chores, I love doing them. Even in food, she loves sweet things, I like them spicy. Our preferences in anything, be it music or movies or where to go or what to wear, they were always so different but I guess….that's what made things fun. Sometimes she'd adjust for me, sometimes me for her, and though things weren't going our way, we were happy because we were making each other happy.” 

“Wow.” Mira let out a breath. “I always thought being in love with someone entirely from me would be difficult to handle.”

“If I'm being honest, there were times it did get difficult.” Jun wiped the condensation off the window with his hand, catching sight of your cafe across the street. “Y/n lived life like it was a checklist. Graduating high school at 18, then law school at 23, first job at 24, marriage at 25, three kids by the time she's 30, retired by 55, starting an organic farm business at 57 and then dying whenever - she had her whole life planned. Me on the other hand, I… live in the moment, go where life takes me. Everything around us is so uncertain, think about the accident”

Jun’s voice shook as fragments of it flashed in his head.

“We could have died, life as we know could have ended, so what's the point in deciding everything so prematurely? I take life by the day, I enjoy every moment - one day I'm doing martial arts classes for kids, one day I'm teaching old women some Chinese dishes, one day I'm doing a modelling contract. End of the day, I still make money to feed myself and pay my bills, I just don't go to bed having the next 10 years of my life planned and somehow….. I think that's what drove us apart. That's why she…” Jun let out a deep breath. “That's why she decided to start afresh. Her practicality and my emotional disposition just… didn't find any middle ground.” 

Mira softly placed her hand on Jun's shoulder, caressing it with her thumb. Clearing his throat, he took a step back, tearing his eyes away from the coffee house. 

“We should probably continue with the packing.” 

Mira nodded as she followed him, the two of them sorting things silently this time. Normally Jun wouldn't ever let go of a chance to talk about you, but now, given he had to speak about you in past tense, Jun couldn't bring himself to talk about you over and over again. Minghao was right, it was all just getting harder and harder.

And so, the next few hours were navigated in mostly silence and occasional questions. By the time the sun had begun to set, the two of them were done - all of your things had been neatly packed and put in the store room, the door locked, keys stashed in Mira's pocket for safe keeping. A couple of things had been piled by the door to be thrown out, Jun's take out dinner had arrived and Mira was lingering by the door, ready to leave. Yet the contract papers were sitting on the table, like an elephant in the room. Unable to hold herself back anymore, Mira sighed. 

“Jun, I know Minghao left the choice to you but as a professional and as someone who cares about you, I think it's best you…. " She gulped. "sign the contract. I've seen some couples after the clinical trials, trust me, you don't want to live this weight-” 

“Mira,” Jun’s voice left him between gritted teeth. “It's been barely 2 days since I got to know about what Y/n did. I haven't even decided if I am to be sad or angry or stay or move on.” He shut his eyes, running his hands through his hair. “The only reason I agreed to keep her things away or allowed someone else to even touch them was because one, I trust Minghao more than anything and two, if I really want to, I know I'm strong enough to break the door of that storeroom and get everything back. But what you're asking of me, is a permanent change. Please just…. Let me think things through at my pace.” 

Mira blinked at him, her hand on the handle of the door, unmoving. 

“Thank you for your help yet again Mira, but I think it's time you go.” 

And before the apology even left her mouth as she stepped out, Jun shut the door behind her, leaning against it.  

He just needed some time. That’s all.

Or at least that's what he thought but in just a few hours, he realised he didn't. 

Yesterday was perhaps bearable because Minghao, although he didn't speak much, was there in the house. Today though, heating up his food all alone, sitting at the table by himself, walking around his house in the dimness of the night lights, staring at the empty walls and empty shelves - it was all too much. Jun couldn't bring himself to go another day like this, forget the rest of his life. 

Taking a deep breath he sat on the couch, pulling the papers towards himself, then pen in his hand shaking. 

He wasn't strong enough for this - he couldn't go on without you. 

Finally making up his mind, he gripped the pen tight and signed the contract. There was no other way. 

But the universe said otherwise. 

If Jun had just turned around and gone to his room, things would've gone down very differently. Maybe if he decided to sleep instead of clearing the dishes and throwing the trash, he would've never thought about clearing all the boxes that Mira left by the door. Maybe then he wouldn't have come across that box. 

At first glance when he opened it, it seemed like odd bits of trash - there were pieces of paper, little trinkets, bills and what not. He was just about to throw it when his eye caught the familiar logo on one of the bills - the Lovers Cavern. The first Michelin star restaurant that Jun had taken you to on a date. Frowning, he ran his fingers through the contents of the box, recognising them one by one. Carnival and movie tickets, the crinkled wrapper of the ice cream he loves, the magnets from your first road trip together, the dried corsage from your first dance together…. everything was a thoughtful piece of the time the two of you spent together. 

You had been carefully saving them over the last 10 years. 

Jun stared at it wordlessly, lost in thought. He had never taken you as one for sentimentality. Hell you didn't even like taking photos or recording videos of your time together, he was always the one who had to pull you in, forcing you to smile. He had always assumed those small moments meant nothing to you but this box told him a different story - you had been treasuring them all these years in your own way. This relationship wasn’t just part of a checklist, you had been emotionally invested in it since the beginning, since 10 years. 

Jun could only imagine how much his words must have hurt you that day…. Clearly enough to make you take such a big step. You didn't walk away because you wanted to. You walked away because of him. His words made you…. it was his fault. 

Walking over to the window, Jun glanced at your cafe, watching as you stepped out with a couple of bags in your hands, turning off the lights and locking the door. As you balanced your things in your hands, waving for a cab, Jun slowly realised….. Minghao was wrong. 

His only options weren't to either live with your memories alone or forget you and move on. There was a third one. One that Jun was about to choose. 

He was going to get you back. He had done it once and he could do it again. 

Jun was going to make you fall in love with him all over again. 

2nd February 2025 

Rubbing the back of your sore neck, you sat down at the benches outside the cafe, enjoying the cold. 

One might think you were stupid for sitting in the snow clad street in just a small dress and an apron but the heat of the coffee was getting unbearable. Sipping on your own coffee, you glanced at the hustle and bustle down the street. Everyone looked so busy, like they were navigating life with a purpose. This coffee shop had always been your purpose, the dream you had been living for almost a month now yet something felt unfulfilled. Something was missing. Before you could figure out what, a voice broke you out of your reverie. 

“Is the same drink, same table offer still going on?” 

Raising your head, you let your eyes find the man who interrupted the few minutes of your me-time.

“Mr. Wen Junhui.” You cleared your throat, letting the annoyance show on your face. “I believe I had asked you not to enter my shop?”

“You did.” Jun nodded, sitting down beside you, a few feet away. “And I did not enter your shop - technically I'm outside.” 

You glared at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Well since you're such an ardent follower of what I say, you shouldn't be sitting with me either because-”

“Because I need to have the same drink as you, right?” Jun cocked his head at you, raising his cup. “And I do.” 

“There's no way.” You chuckled, taking a sip. “I can assure you, you don't.” 

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Jun took a sip, smiling to himself because he knew he was not wrong. No one knew you better than him. “But I think that's a caramel macchiato with hazelnut cream.”

Lips slightly parted in surprise, you stared at him. 

“M-maybe.” You muttered, taking a sip yourself. “But I still don’t think it’s the exact same-”

“Yeah, it might not be exact.” Jun shrugged nonchalantly. “Not like I’m lactose intolerant or anything but I felt like taking it with oat milk today.” 

The cup nearly slipped from your hand. You were lactose intolerant. You always took your coffee with oat milk. 

Choosing not to tell him that, you simply continued to stare at the busy crowd. Jun let out an inward sigh of relief knowing he had earned the place to sit next to you. 

“Y/n…” Clearing his throat, he corrected himself. Baby steps Jun. “Ms. Y/n I uh actually wanted to apologise about that day.”

You turned to him, eyebrows slightly furrowed. 

“I had actually just gotten out of the hospital that day and I don’t think the anesthesia wore off completely so I was apparently just going around and…. proposing marriage to various women.” 

You raised your eyebrows like you didn’t believe him. 

“It’s true, I spent the whole day today saying sorry to every business owner on this street…. And drinking the same coffee order as them. I think I’m going to have a tough time in the bathroom tomorrow….” 

Scoffing, you turned away from him and if Jun didn’t know you better, he wouldn’t have known you were hiding a tiny smile. 

“Again I’m really Ms. Y/n, I wish that didn’t happen and that we could have a fresh start. I was really looking forward to having coffee here.” 

Letting out a deep resigned breath, you stood up, chugging the last of your drink. Tossing the cup in the bin, you turned to him, clasping your hands before you politely, giving him a small smile. 

“Mr. Wen Junhui, welcome to Lonely Hearts cafe. We’re a small business that opened just a month ago so we’ve got some really good deals on coffee and cake. We even have a Valentine’s day event - you get to share a table with the person who has the same drink as you. I hope we see you around.” 

Returning your smile, Jun got up, giving a small shrug. “That Valentine’s day event is interesting - I would love to… be seen around.” He chuckled, holding his hand out. “It’s nice knowing you Ms. Y/n.” 

Glancing at his outstretched hand, you slowly took it, wrapping your fingers around it. Somehow on the cold winter day, there was a strange warmth radiating between the two of you. 

“It’s nice getting to know you too Mr. Jun.” 

3rd February 2025 

“You know, you don’t look like someone who enjoys coffee.” 

Jun turned at the sound of your voice, finding you right beside the door he just walked in. You had a tray in your hands and an amused smile on your face. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“The face you made yesterday?” You laughed as you walked in, Jun following behind you. “I’ve never seen someone look so disgusted while drinking coffee.” 

Jun suppressed a smile as he leaned against the counter. “Oh so you were watching me.” 

Rolling your eyes, you walked towards the machines. “I happened to see.” 

“The one yesterday was just too sweet.” He shuddered, recalling the taste. “My taste buds were dying.” 

“Well obviously it was sweet, it’s caramel.” You pulled out a piece of cake, putting it on the counter as a waitress walked over, taking it. “Did you expect it to taste like Malatang?” 

Oh Jun would love some Malatang right now. 

“No, but something told me your coffee would taste much better than that one.” 

You chuckled, pulling up a cup. “Is that going to be your order for today?’ 

“Nope.” Jun shook his head. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” 

“What I’m having?” You frowned, confused. 

“How else will I be able to share a table with you?” 

Jun could tell you were holding back a smile. “And why would you want to do that?” 

“I thought coffee with a side of conversation would be nice.” 

“I’m working.” 

“I’ll wait.”

“I only get off at 5.” 

“I’ll wait.” 

“And then I need to head straight home.” 

“I just need 10 minutes.” 

You raised your eyebrows like you were trying to figure out what his intentions were. Meanwhile, he looked at you determined, like he’ll wait for a lifetime, if that’s what it took. Sighing you pulled out a piece of cake and set it before him. Then changing your mind, you quickly swapped it for a couple of lemon biscuits and slid it to him. 

“They’re on the house.” 

And with that you tightened your apron and walked away, leaving Jun staring at his favourite biscuits on the counter. 

“Do you need any help?” 

You looked up from the table you were cleaning at Jun who was still here, his coat discarded, cheeks flushed red and eyes tired. 

“I have staff Mr. Jun.”

“She left.” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Told me to inform you.” 

“Huh.” You frowned. ��She always stays till I close for the extra ten I hand her every day.” 

Jun remained silent, looking away.

“You paid her.” 

“I was just helping her go home fast.”

Sighing, you straightened yourself, crossing your arms. “Okay what is it, what do you want?” 

“I told you, a conversation.”

“Well that’s what we’re having right?” 

“Right…” Jun cleared his throat, unsure how to frame his sentences while you continued to look at him expectantly. When he didn’t say anything, you rolled your eyes and continued cleaning up. 

“I was thinking…” You held out the tray, making him quickly free his hands to hold it as you began stacking plates and cutlery on it. “You’re a woman.”

“Are you doubting it?” Frowning, you walked over to the trash can, Jun right behind, struggling to balance everything. 

“No! I mean I wasn’t thinking if you were a woman, more like I was thinking since you’re a woman and I’m a man….” 

Jun trailed off completely lost about where he was going with this till you relieved him of the weight in his arms, placing the tray in the sink. 

“Mr. Jun,” You untied your apron, tucking it on the rod of the drawer. “You only have 10 minutes.” 

“Okay okay.” Jun recomposed himself, watching you pack up your things for the night.  Looks like he just had to get straight to the point. “Yes I have 10 minutes right now, but my worry is, we only have 10 days.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“It's Valentine's in 10 days….” Jun muttered below his breath trying to gauge your reaction. 

“Are you…” You narrowed your eyes at him unsure. “Is this your way of asking me out?” 

“No god,” Jun groaned, running his hands through his hair. “I swear I planned it so much better in my head-”

“Don’t.” 

And with that one word, you crushed everything. All the hope, the longing, the yearning.  

“Look Mr. Jun, normally I wouldn't go into the details but I don't want you to think I'm blowing you off but about a month ago, I got a Memory Wipe. I lost the last ten years of my life and I’m still trying to come to terms with how much things have changed.... I’m just not ready for any kind of commitment.”

“But….” Jun blinked at you confused. “You smiled…”

“Sorry?” 

“Yesterday and today…. I thought, you might also…” 

“Mr. Jun.” You sighed, donning your jacket, zipping up. “You’re a good looking man, you’re sweet and I can tell you’d be a good conversation but I didn’t mean for it to be more than that. I just assumed it would be some harmless flirting.” 

“I don’t want it to just be harmless flirting.” Jun shook his head. “I want something more. I like you and I want to-” 

“Like me, why?” You looked at him confused, grabbing your bags. “We’ve barely spoken more than 5 sentences to each other.”

We’ve been in love for more than 10 years Y/n. 

“I can’t explain it, it just…. feels right.” 

“Well I can’t function based on your whims and feelings, can I?” 

Jun stood frozen as you turned off the lights and opened the door, stepping out. Grabbing his jacket he followed you, watching you lost in thought as you locked the door before you turned to him. 

“Look, you seem like a nice guy and I’m sure you’ll find someone. It just can’t be me, I’m not in the space for it.” Adjusting the bags in your hands, you shot him an apologetic look.  “I’m sorry Mr. Jun.”

And with that you walked away, your figure moving further and getting smaller as cold winds returned to the city. For some stupid reason, Jun hadn’t anticipated this - he didn’t think about the possibility of you rejecting his advances. He just assumed the two of you would fall into the comfortable pattern of dating each other and everything would slowly return to normal. Your disappearing self was telling him otherwise….

No. 

Jun couldn’t allow this to happen. He couldn’t lose this chance.

“Wait!” Pulling his jacket over his shivering body, he ran to you, half tripping on the way. “Wait, please.” 

And you did, looking at his panting, coughing self standing in your way, trying to catch his breath. Searching your bags, you handed him a bottle of water but Jun ignored it, looking at you questioningly. 

“If whatever happened to you a month ago, didn’t happen, would you agree to go out on a date with a guy like me?” 

“I….” You looked around confused. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you have any other reason not to give us… to give me a shot?” Crossing his fingers, Jun tucked his hands in his pocket. “Any other reason to say no?” 

“Not really, no.” 

Bingo. 

“I’m sure the aftermath of the Memory Wipe hasn't been easy but life won’t stop just because you want things to pause.” Gulping he looked at you expectantly. “Look Y/n I too am in a space where things are difficult where I want to hit rewind, but I realised maybe it’s better to hit restart and I want to try that with you.” 

“Jun I…” 

“Here’s my suggestion, just hear me out.” He clasped his hands, ignoring the cold drafts. “Give me 10 days, just 10 days to change your mind about us. I know I can do it, I know I can make you see I’m worth it, that we’re worth it.” 

“You’re really not going to take no for an answer are you?” 

Jun shook his head, his face falling. “No I…. I don’t want to force you. I was just suggesting-”

“What if I’m not convinced in 10 days?” You sighed, looking at him unsure. “Will you leave the idea of ‘us’ behind and not pursue me anymore?" 

“It won’t come to that-” 

“If it does.” 

“If it does,” Jun took a deep breath. “Then you’ll never see me again. I promise.” 

And with that you went silent, like you were considering it. Jun prayed to all possible forces in the universe - please say yes, please say yes, please say yes. 

“Okay.” You agreed, slowly nodding your head. “You have 10 days. If I’m not convinced, then on the 10th day,  we’re done and we’re never seeing each other again, deal?” 

Smiling on the inside, Jun ignored the little victory lap his head was doing. “Deal.” 

“And you’re sure this will work?” 

Phone against his ear, Jun nodded confidently.

“Positive.”

“What if you’re just setting yourself up for heartbreak again?”

“I’m not.” Jun rolled his eyes. “I know I can get her back. This time I’ll be better-” 

“Haven’t you noticed?” Minghao voice was filled with caution. “She’s somehow not the same. The Y/n you knew was a hard core, cut throat lawyer. This Y/n is a barista who sells coffee and the idea of love.” 

Jun hummed in thought. “Maybe. But deep down, she’s still my Y/n and I’m her Jun. I know her better than anyone else, I can do this-”

“And if you can’t?” 

“Then I’ll live with it. But I can’t let her go without trying.” 

“And what if it still doesn’t work?” 

“I don’t want to consider that possibility.” 

“Jun be realistic. How on Earth do you plan on convincing a woman who thinks you’re a complete stranger, is struggling with her amnesia, and more importantly doesn’t want any commitment, to date you?” 

Jun sank into his couch, staring at the ceiling.  

“I have no idea.” He confessed.

“Exactly, what if things get worse for you-”

“Can you just for once be a tad bit more positive?” Jun sighed. “Look at the bright side of things. Like for example, Y/n knew I didn’t like coffee-”

“-you make the most disgusting face known to mankind when you drink it, anyone would know-”

“-and she knew I like malatang-”

“-you’re Chinese Jun. I think that was a safe guess-”

“-and she knew lemon biscuits were my favourite dessert.” 

This time Minghao went silent. 

“Nothing snarky to say?” 

When Minghao continued to keep quiet, Jun frowned, sitting up. 

“Hao do you think she… remembered?” 

“That’s not possible....” 

"You don't sound as sure as last time." Jun noted.

Minghao let out a deep breath, like he was frustrated. “Theoretically, a memory restoration is not possible but hearing you I.... I can't tell for sure - we're also still not done with the clinical trials so I cannot exactly negate the possibility."

"So,,," Jun's eyes widened. "You're saying there is a chance she might remember everything?"

"A really really small chance.....” Minghao emphasised. "Or it could just be that since Y/n has known you for ten odd years, some her actions are just reflexive - ingrained in her subconscious after years of habit." 

"But you're saying there's a small chance she might remember me again?"

Minghao sighed. Clearly, his friend wanted to just hear one thing.

"Yes. Perhaps if she's repeatedly exposed to you or to something of her past, she might remember certain things again-"

"Enough to make her want to come back to me?"

"I cannot promise that-"

"But I can try." Jun whispered, the cogwheels in his mind turning. "I have to try and Hao, I think I know exactly how."

"How-"

Cutting the call Jun tossed his phone aside and quickly grabbed the box he had stashed below the tea table, opening it. He ran his fingers again through all the memories you had saved, a small smile forming on his face.

Jun had 10 days to win you back - that meant he had 10 chances to remind you of all the good days the two of you shared. 10 memories he could recreate, ones that you yourself had stored in this very box. 10 ways he could prove 'us'..... was truly worth it.

And just like that, Wen Junhui knew exactly how to make you fall in love with him all over again. 

You stared at the photo hanging on your wall, arms crossed, eyes slightly damp.

You look so happy,....he looks so happy. 

Just like he did when you agreed to give him 10 days to woo you. 

Sighing you tore your eyes away and stared at the ground, blinking the tears away. 

“Just 10 days," You whispered, voice shaking. "….. and all of this will be over.” 

A/n - This fic is tbh very long and overwhelming so I thought its best to have it out in parts? I hope you enjoyed this part and stay tuned for the next too! Thoughts in comments and reblogs are very much appreciated my loves <3

[wosola]

Not in the mood - Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend Alexia is back from a couple of days away for football. She has a rest day, but when you come back from work you are not in the mood... or so you tell Alexia. Genre: Fluff / Smut Warnings: Minors do not interact, 18+

You had tried to go home as quick as possible when your workday was done. Today was a rest day for Alexia and that meant one of the rare occasions you and her could spend some quality time together.

She had texted you throughout the day about the things she´d been up to and about how much she was missing you.

You adored her, she was doing the laundry at home even though she was a six figure earner, while you made a mediocre salary. She was almost never home, and when she was she helped out in the house hold.

She was the perfect girlfriend. It is cool that she is a football player ofcourse, but that wasn´t why you had fallen in love with her. No.

You had fallen for the sweet, soft and caring woman that was called Alexia Putellas. Who also happened to be a pro football player, earning her the nickname ´la Reina´. Rightfully so, she really was a queen.

You stepped through the front door of the apartment the two of you shared. Having moved in together after a small 7 months of dating. Now it was already close to you two´s 2 year celebration, and things where still going as good as ever. Maybe even better if that was possible.

´´Good afternoon babyyy.´´ You called out in the hallway while dropping your bag, taking of your shoes and putting your coat on the rack.

You walked in to the apartment to be met with alexia watching tv and folding laundry simultaneously. She looked cute, her attention completely turned to the show she was watching. That was such an Alexia thing, always having her whole heart in the things she did.

´´Ale.´´ You chuckled, softly. You didn´t want to startle her.

She blinked and looked up, she turned to you and smiled. ´´heyyy.´´ She put the towel she was holding next to her and stood up from the couch, ´´I missed you.´´

´´I missed you too, how was your day?’’ you asked walking towards her.

She took you in her arms, holding you close, ‘’mmmm,’’ she swayed you back and forth, ‘’my day was good, I did absolutely nothing though, so I can’t wait to train again tomorrow.’’

You chuckled against her chest, ‘’you did laundry, you did the dishes, you vacuumed and made the bed,’’ you looked up and kissed her jaw, ‘’I think you did a lot for a so called ‘rest day’, ‘’

‘’Hm,’’ Alexia let out a disagreeing hum, but kissed the top of your head, ‘’and how was your day.’’

‘’Oh good,’’ you smiled, peeling yourself away from her slightly so you could see her face, ‘’I had a really good talk with that one client I told you about and I got a lot of paperwork done, so I had a very productive day.’’

Alexia smiled, ‘’I am proud of you.’’

You smiled back, ‘’I am proud of you too, my superstar.’’

Alexia rolled her eyes at the way you said ‘my superstar’, you always had to reply to compliments either jokingly, sarcastically or denyingly, she whished you would just accept her compliments for once.

You ignored her with a chuckle and kissed her, ‘’so what do you want to do this afternoon?’’ you murmured after slightly pulling away again.

Alexia blinked, thinking a second before pulling you in for another kiss. ‘’mm maybe we can cuddle on the couch?’’ she said after breaking the kiss.

You smiled, ‘’mm that would be nice, let me put on some comfy clothes and I’ll join you.’’

Alexia nodded, ‘’perfect, I’ll finish the laundry and put it away.’’

-

Alexia didn’t finish the folding, instead she took the laundry, half folded, half not. In the basket back to the room, following just a few moments behind you.

You had just taken your blouse and skirt off, sitting on the bed to take of your tights without creating any ladders.

You shook your head as you saw alexia standing in the doorway with the basket of laundry.

‘’You where right, I have done enough things for my rest day.’’ She explained, setting the basket down.

She stayed there, leaning against the wall, watching now as you had stood up and opened the closet.

You turned around with sweatpants, throwing them on the bed. You caught her gaze flicking up from your ass, quickly to land on your face. You smirked, ‘’sure no other reason you followed me?’’

Alexia walked over to you and wrapped herself around you, ‘’mm yes actually, wanted to tell you to put one of my sweaters on,’’ she kissed your neck as she reached out and grabbed a dark blue Barça hoodie from her stack of clothes, ‘’this one is very comfy.’’

You chuckled as you turned around and took the hoodie, which you had already worn maybe a hundred times, from her. ‘’Oh thank you, how considerate.’’

She nodded, ‘’only the best for my girl.’’

You shook your head amused as you threw the sweater on the bed as well, then you grabbed an undershirt and turned to the bed.

First you put on the sweatpants, then you removed your bra. You knew Alexia was watching but you didn’t give her any attention, it amused you. Then you put on the shirt and the hoodie and turned to her, ‘’very comfy.’’

She looked at you triumphantly. ‘’Do I deserve a kiss for helping you?’’

Chuckling, you took her hand to pull her closer, ‘’you always deserve a kiss.’’

She smiled like a kid who had just been told they could have as many pieces of candy from the jar as they wanted.

Alexia held your face and pecked your lips about a dozen times before giving you a proper kiss.

After a couple minutes you pulled back, you chuckled. ‘’Alright, lets get to the couch then.’’

A bit dazy, alexia looked at you, ‘’mhm, yes ofcourse, the couch.’’

-

You laid down on the couch as Alexia made two cups of tea.

She came back setting the cups down and next to your tea she laid down a cookie with one bite out of it.

‘’Mm nice,’’ you chuckled, ‘’a chewed cookie.’’ Often when Alexia brought you a snack it had a little bite missing, she always said the same;

‘’made sure it’s safe for you, and I can confirm there’s no poison in it.’’ alexia said with a serious face, knowing damn well she had done it with the other 4 cookies from this same pack as well the last days.

‘’I’m so lucky,’’ you rolled your eyes, ‘’you protect me from all the evils of the world.’’

‘’mhm,’’ alexia nodded proudly, ‘’now, can I lie behind you?’’ she asked, eying the bit of space you had left, balancing on the edge of the couch.

you nodded, leaning even more towards the edge.

alexia stepped behind you and tugged a blanket along with her. covering the both of you as she wiggled until she was happy with both of your positions.

‘’Shall we watch this,’’ you said, pointing with the remote at the show selected, ‘’looks fun.’’

‘’Mhm,’’ Alexia didn’t even look at the screen, her face nuzzled in your neck and her hand searching for the hem of your sweater.

You put the show on and put the remote on the coffee table as you felt alexia’s hand creeping below your shirt. You shivered as her cool hands traced the skin of your stomach.

‘’Ale, its colddd.’’ You said, trying to take her hand away from under your shirt.

‘’But I want to hold you.’’ She pouted, her lips finding your neck, kissing you softly as her hand crept up further and further, ‘’can I hold them? I missed them.’’ She pouted innocently.

You scooched back further against her, feeling her warmth against your back. You sighed and agreed halfheartedly, ‘’fine.’’

She smiled against your neck, ‘’mmm I love you,’’ she murmured as she gave both of your boobs some attention before cupping one and settling like that.

With one arm below your head, one hand under your shirt and her back flush against your front the two of you laid there for a while.

Every now and then you took a sip of the tea until it was finished and your cookie was gone too.

You where pretty invested in the show you had put on, it was some show about lawyers. Overly dramatized ofcourse, but entertaining nonetheless.

Alexia seemed to be contend too, she place kisses in your neck every once in a while and her hand was rested comfortably on your chest. Now that her hand was warmed to the same temperature as you where, it was fine.

-

All of a sudden you noticed Alexia removing her hand from your boob, trailing lower. It send a shiver along your spine.

She moved a bit, straightening herself against you as her hand was on your stomach.

‘’Ale’’ You said, your voice sounding in a tone somewhere between warning and absence, your gaze still on the tv.

“What?” she asked softly, her hand finding your hip, pulling you impossibly closer.

You took her hand, guiding her arm around you and clasping it gently with both of yours. Preventing her further distractions.

In response, she began placing soft kisses along your neck, each one lingering just enough to make your skin tingle. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“We were just going to cuddle,” you sighed, trying to hold onto the original plan.

“We are cuddling,” she whispered in your ear, her breath warm and teasing. “I just missed you.”

A shiver ran down your spine as goosebumps spread along your neck. “I missed you too, Ale,” you murmured, your attention now drifting completely away from the show. Just yesterday, Alexia had returned from a three-day trip to Germany for a Champions League match.

Turning around to face her, you smiled, your forehead nearly touching hers. “But now you’re home, hm?”

She didn’t seem to hear, her gaze fixed on your lips as if transfixed.

“Ale?” you chuckled softly.

She blinked, finally meeting your eyes. “Yeah, you’re my home.”

You rolled your eyes, cupping her face and brushing your thumbs gently over her cheeks. “Where’s your head at?”

“What?” She tilted her head, eyebrows knitting together. “My head is right here—with you. I’m thinking about you.”

You chuckled, unconvinced. “Mhm.”

“It’s true,” she murmured, tilting her face closer to yours, “and I want a kiss, please.”

You leaned in and kissed her, soft at first, but Alexia’s hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into her. The kiss quickly grew hungrier, her lips moving against yours like she’d been waiting forever.

When you broke away to breathe, she didn’t let you go far, her mouth already trailing to your jaw and then your neck, her kisses soft but clearly needy. Her hands slid to your hips, tugging you tight against her.

“What are you after?” you teased, trying to hide your smile.

“Missed you,” she murmured against your skin, her tone so earnest it made you chuckle.

“Oh, I couldn’t tell,” you replied, laughing a little, even as her lips found the spot on your neck that always made you melt.

She pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a playful glint dancing in hers. “Let me show you,” she whispered, her hands sliding lower as she leaned closer, “déjame mostrarte how much I missed you.”

The way she said it—serious and full of adoration—made you laugh again. You kissed her because she was adorable.

Alexia kissed you back, but not with the same playful energy. Her lips moved hungrily, her grip tightening on your hips.

You pressed a hand to her chest, holding her back just enough to catch your breath and calm her down.

“What?” Alexia said breathlessly, eyes flicking between yours and your lips. “Something wrong?”

You bit your lip. “I’m not really in the mood, Ale.”

Alexia’s face fell, her pout so exaggerated you almost laughed. “¿No? No quieres? You don’t want to have sex?”

“I’m just a little tired,” you admitted, watching her expression turn soft but still a little dramatic. “I know it’s been a while. Maybe tomorrow.”

Her lips pressed into a thin smile, nodding. “Okay, mañana…” She pulled you closer, then grinned mischievously. “Orrr…” Before you could react, she rolled you onto your back and leaned over you.

“You can just relax,” she whispered in your ear, her voice low and teasing, “and I’ll make you feel good.” Her lips brushed against your skin as she added, “Then we’ll order food and eat it in bed.” She raised her eyebrows at you playfully, wagging them suggestively.

“Are you seriously trying to turn me on by mentioning ordering sushi?” you asked, unable to hide your smile.

“Is it working?”

“Almost.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, leaning down to press her lips to your neck. “What if I give you a massage, then we order sushi, and while we wait…” Her kisses grew slower, her breath warm against your skin. “I’ll give you head.”

Your mouth fell open. “Alexia!”

“What?” she asked innocently, her lips brushing your collarbone. “You love getting head, no?”

“Who even taught you to say that?” you said, clicking your tongue disapprovingly.

“TikTok,” Alexia replied proudly, her grin too pleased with herself.

You let out a short laugh. “I still can’t believe Vicky convinced you to get on TikTok.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you knew what I meant, so I guess we’re both bad.”

You shook your head, stroking her hair fondly. “You’re not bad—you’re cute. I was just caught off guard.”

Alexia beamed, then kissed your neck again, nuzzling her nose against your skin. “So… back to my plan,” she murmured, her lips brushing the pulse point on your neck as her tongue flicked teasingly. “I’ll give you a massage, we’ll order sushi, and then…” her voice slowed as she pressed another kiss to your neck. “I’ll give you head. Make you feel really, really good.”

-

After a couple more words you agreed. Alexia grabbed her phone and ordered sushi, barely glancing at the menu before hitting confirm. “forty minutes,” she said with a triumphant grin.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you stood up and made your way to the bed. “Plenty of time for that massage you promised, then.”

She followed you, practically bouncing and waited as you stretched out on your stomach, the soft sheets cool against your skin.

‘’At least take the sweatshirt off amor.’’

You shifted, taking the sweater off and laid back down on your stomach, your arms besides your body. Your head sideways, sending her a smile. ‘’mkay, I’m ready,’’ you chuckled.  

Her hands were on you almost immediately, warm and firm, starting at your shoulders.

“Just relax,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

Her thumbs worked into the knots in your shoulders, and you sighed as the tension began to melt away.

Suddenly she sat up, ’’I think you need to take off the clothes, then I can massage you better.’’

You staid quiet, finally relaxed, waiting for her to continue if you just ignored her. When she didn’t you rolled over and looked at her.

Alexia shot you a small smile, ‘’massage oil.’’ She offered innocently.

You rolled your eyes but smiled at her, ‘’okay but let’s put a big towel on the bed then, you just changed the sheets.’’

-

It wasn’t long before Alexia’s hands wandered your skin again, her palms smoothing over your back with a deliberate slowness, her lips following. She pressed kisses to your shoulder blades, then down your spine, her breath warm against your skin.

“This is a massage, not a make-out session,” you teased, voice muffled by the sheets.

“Shhh, it’s both,” she said with a grin, her hands sliding to your sides, fingers brushing your ribs in a way that made you squirm. “Feels good, no?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, but the way her lips lingered just a little too long at the small of your back made you suspicious.

Her hands drifted lower, kneading at your hips, then your thighs, her touch deliberate but clearly suggestive. “You’ve got such a perfect body, querida” she murmured, her voice low as she placed another kiss just above the curve of the waistband of your underwear.

“Alexia…” you said, a warning tone in your voice, but it lacked any real conviction.

“What?” she asked innocently, her hands trailing back up to your shoulders, only to work their way back down, slower this time.

By the time her lips started leaving kisses along the backs of your thighs, you were biting your lip to keep from whining—or moaning. “You know exactly what you are doing,” you muttered, turning your head to glance back at her.

“Making my love feel good,” she replied with a grin, her hands sliding up your sides again, her lips brushing the sensitive skin of your lower back. “I’m just doing what feels right.”

You rolled onto your back, her hands quickly finding your waist as she hovered over you, a smug little smirk on her face. “You’re so annoying,” you said, but your cheeks were flushed, and she noticed.

“Annoying? I think you secretly like it,” she teased, leaning down to kiss your collarbone. “You like it when I take care of you, cariño, don’t you?”

Her lips trailed lower and the heat building between you became impossible to ignore. You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers finding her hair as her kisses moved toward your stomach. “You’re not going to stop until I say it, are you?”

She looked up at you, grinning but completely serious. “Say what?”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning as you pulled her closer. “Okay I like it, fuck, I want you.”

Her smirk grew impossibly wider, her eyes lighting up. “Now that,” she said, kissing just below your navel, “is the only thing you needed to tell me.”

Her hands slid lower, and you let your head fall back, your laughter turning into a soft sigh as she kissed her way down, wasting no time making good on her promise.

You lifted your legs when she tugged of your only remaining piece of clothing, your panties.

Alexia’s lips traveled up the inside of your thighs, slow and teasing, leaving a trail of heat in their path.

 Her hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as her kisses grew closer, breath fanning against your skin. She let out a low groan, her nose brushing along your sensitive skin as she murmured, “Dios… I missed this.”

You shivered at her words, your hands tangling in her hair as she kissed closer and closer. “Missed the way you taste,” she said softly, her voice laced with hunger and then her tongue flicked against you, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

Her movements were slow at first as she savored every moment. She groaned again, this time louder, as if the sound itself was pulled from her chest. “You’re my favorite taste,” she muttered between strokes, the reverence in her tone making your head spin.

Your back arched as she found the perfect rhythm, her tongue and lips working to push you closer to the edge. You could feel the pressure building, your breathing ragged as your thighs trembled around her head.

It went on like that for a couple minutes, but just as you felt yourself slipping over the edge, the doorbell rang.

You tensed, eyes flying open as Alexia paused, looking up at you apologetically. “Sorry, baby. One second.” She started to pull away, but your hand tightened in her hair.

“Alexia, don’t you dare stop,” you said breathlessly, glaring down at her.

She gave you an adorably sheepish look, her lips glistening, but she gently pried your hand from her hair. “I’ll be right back,” she said, kissing your inner thigh before grabbing a piece of the towel and wiping her mouth quickly.

You let out a frustrated groan, flopping back onto the bed as she hurried to the door, throwing it open with a too-sweet smile at the delivery driver. “Gracias,” she said briskly, practically snatching the sushi bag before shutting the door and rushing back to the bedroom.

She dropped the bag onto the bedside table and crawled back onto the bed, her grin smug as she settled between your thighs again. “So,” she said, kissing the inside of your knee before moving upward, “now you do want me, huh?”

“Alexia,” you growled, your tone both annoyed and desperate.

She laughed softly, her hands gripping your thighs to pull you closer. “Relax, cariño. I’ll take care of you.”

And with that, her mouth was on you again, picking up right where she left off, her teasing forgotten as she focused on one thing; finishing what she’d started.

She made you come with eagerness that left you breathless, her name tumbling from your lips as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Afterward, she pressed soft kisses to your thighs and stomach, murmuring sweet words in Spanish before she cleaned you up with gentle care.

-

Minutes later, the two of you were curled up in bed, the glow of satisfaction and warmth surrounding you as you plucked a piece of sushi from the box and held it to Alexia's lips with a grin. “Your turn to be spoiled,” you chuckled.

She laughed softly, taking the bite before grabbing a piece to feed you in return. “I love spoiling you, my love.''

[ceesimz]

Lavender

A date that unfortunately doesn't go as planned. (autistic!reader - angst -> fluff)

Reverie series here as always! A verrrry real experience depicted in this one, with some amazing help from @pickledwoso that i am very grateful for, thank youuu <3

“Engel, are you ready to leave?” Alexia sang as she headed out of the bedroom towards where you were at the door rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, waiting for her.

“Yes, you fool, I've been ready for the past half hour.” You rolled your eyes at her teasingly, laughing when she lightly pawed at your side where she knew you were ticklish. “Come on! You're taking all day.”

“Ay, it is our day-off, I can take my time for once. No rushing, just calm, and me and you.” She gave an alluring smile, sliding her hand down your arm until she intertwined your fingers, then leaned forwards to kiss your forehead. “Are you excited?”

“Very. I love when we do this.” You told her with a squeeze of her hand. The girl grinned, her eyes brimming with excitement and complete happiness seeping from her pores, like the prospect of visiting a farmer's market with her girlfriend was as exciting as a third Ballon d’Or.

“Me too.” She gently knocked your chin up and pecked your lips before brushing back a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, are we ready, mi vida?”

“For the love of god, yes!”

Any time the club issued some days-off, one of the things highest on the list for yourself and Alexia was visiting the local farmer’s market. You’d buy the best of the best fresh organic products and cook together a dish of food that, combined with the quality time you'd spend with each other, would make for a night-in together that was so much better than going out somewhere. 

These days had become somewhat of a tradition, and with it being the penultimate day of the short summer break after the tournament Alexia had gone to, it was absolute perfection. The last day had no plans apart from relaxing and spending time together before the season started again. You couldn't think of a better way to spend the last bit of time off than a date to a familiar, easy place with Alexia that was sure to give way for a fun afternoon and evening.

With it being the height of summer, Barcelona was especially warm, which was perhaps the first warning sign of the day.

“Ale, you really need to get your car in the garage, your AC sucks.” You groaned, the vents on full blast yet hardly doing a thing to cool you down against the 35 degree air outside. Your window was open and your head rested against the door dramatically, Alexia couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight even if she did feel a little bad about it.

“It’s got a service next week, they will fix it then. Sorry.” She winced, hardly breaking a sweat in the weather she was more than acclimated to whilst you seemed to be struggling before the pair of you had even left the car.

You shrugged her off because it's not exactly her fault her car's AC has been faulty since the spring, and focused all your attention on the life-saving breeze hitting your face as Alexia maneuvered through some tame midday traffic. Hot weather wasn't one of your favourite things in the world, as a matter of fact much more comfortable in minus degree weather with tiny icicles on your eyelashes, but a year into living under the blaze of the Barna sun you had no choice but to put up with it.

Though, your patience with the heat wore off quick. And in its wake, a simmering feeling of restlessness, which should have been yet another warning sign. But you were too deep in your determination for this to be a good day for anything to write you off.

The market was only a short drive away, the two of you having opted out of walking because, well, duh, the weather, and just as the sweat that found its place on your nose no more than five minutes after stepping out of your ice cold shower finally began to evaporate, it came crawling right back the second you got out of the car. Alexia was starting to feel uneasy about the day's plans, and, really, so were you, but you were set on pushing through the constrictive feeling that had settled in your bones when the first bit of heat came your way after leaving your flat. There wouldn't be much time in the coming weeks for a day like this with your girlfriend, you weren't about to wreck it for the both of you.

From where the car was parked to the entrance of the market, you walked in silence, hand in hand across slightly worn stone tiles until the rusted old gates of the park stood before you. Over the threshold of the entrance, paved tiles turning to cobble, you knew the chaos the market had in store for you. You didn’t know if you could handle it. The writing on the wall was in the prickly sensation in your skin that was all too familiar, as was the way every nerve in your body screamed in discomfort, almost like your soul was desperately trying to find a way out of your body.

You ignored it, and headed towards the stalls before Alexia could ask how you were.

This place was familiar; you knew the ins and outs of each stall, you knew where to go, you knew how long it took to get around. It shouldn’t be too hard, right? 

You loved this place, of course it’d be fine. It beamed with energy, with good vibes, with good people. With its colourful displays of the finest fruit and vegetables, it was more than just a market; it was the heartbeat of the surrounding neigbourhoods.

All kinds of scents and aromas swirled around each corner, weaving themselves into the fabrics of people’s clothes and lingering long after they’d left. They were intoxicatingly good, and it was evident in the looks of wonder on everybody’s face, old or young, experienced shopper or recent newcomer. Vendors positioned at every stall or tattered wagon called out their offerings in a chaotic yet melodic mix of Spanish and Catalan, grabbing the nearest fruit or veg to wave around like an auctioneer with a hammer, the only use for it being to wave off the flies dancing tauntingly around their goods. 

Locals haggled over prices with the farmers they’d come to know just as well as their own family; their loud and boisterous back-and-forth banter may have sounded like arguing to unknowing tourists, but to everyone else it was understood as just some good-humoured ribbing that they all delighted in. It was more of a shuffle than a walk throughout the place thanks to the tourists that seemed to stop in the middle of the aisles every second, clearly oblivious to the well-practiced dance of the locals. Elderly ladies pulled their clueless esposos around with one arm whilst they carried their wicker basket in the other, the woven willow groaning under the weight of the countless ingredients to be used in that night’s meal.

For a moment, as you paused off to the side whilst Alexia caught up with one of the stall owners, a fisherman with his catches of the week proudly on display, which you knew your girlfriend would end the conversation by buying enough fish meat to feed the five thousand, you took a moment to breathe. Everybody seemed relieved of their life’s burdens here, gathered closely in one space that was steeped in the essence of the world’s simplest pleasures; flavour, tradition, and community. Only, the smile that was usually imprinted on your face whenever you came was no more than a distant memory. 

Despite the fairly shadowed area, considering the park was fenced in by sporadic trees that skimmed the roofs of buildings that showed off the city’s beautiful architecture, it was still insufferably hot. It radiated off of the ground, rebounded off the buildings around, and the flurry of structures meant there was no wind breaking through to give a cool Mediterranean breeze like you had before. 

Alexia seemed none the wiser, enraptured by the surroundings like it was her first time there, her head on a swivel and marveling at the mouth-wateringly exceptional variety of things to choose from. You hadn’t really been taking it in, your eyes stuck to the back of her head as you followed her through, waiting on shaking legs whenever she laughed and joked with each worker she bought from. 

This labyrinth of every cook’s dream was well and truly alive, but you weren’t. You couldn’t absorb the intense feeling of belonging and sonder you got whenever you came here. It was too much. The thought ate away at you, as with every fly that landed on your skin or every person that brushed against you, you became more and more on edge. 

All the different smells, the different sounds, the crowd of people, they didn’t spark those usual feelings of contentment and peace that transpired for you normally. Instead, they felt oppressive, like they were attacking your senses. 

The concoction of aromas forced themselves inside your nose and overloaded you completely, the squeamish smell of fish and the fiery linger of hundreds of kinds of herbs and spices bringing on a pounding headache. Every squeak of a wicker basket as the willow was put under more pressure could have been a gunshot for all you knew, the way it echoed around the tunnels of your ears. Anytime someone briefly put a hand on you as they moved past had you flinching, hating the unexpected contact as it was the last thing you needed in such a situation.

You didn’t find any comfort whatsoever in how Alexia’s hand never left yours for more than a minute, when normally it was something that grounded you. Her usually funny comments and little facts and point-outs of detail about her ‘second home’ (the name she had given it as she’d been coming here since she was young) didn’t make you feel any brighter, in fact you were pretty sure you missed most of them.

And as every minute passed, it appeared to get busier and busier, until it started to feel like you were in some kind of mosh pit, people bouncing off of you with every turn only for the next one to come along no more than a second later. You couldn’t hear a word Alexia was speaking, the once calming mix of languages turned into a booming echo of voices that were so close they seemed to be knocking on the bone of your skull, yet too distant for you to make out what anyone was saying, making it all so. much. worse.

Every voice, every footstep, every hearty laughter and every scrape of wood along the floor grated against your ears, all noises around amplified to immeasurable heights. The space was far too loud and far too crowded – each sensation you felt blurred into the next until it became impossible to separate from one another. But you did feel how each individual muscle tensed, from your legs to your shoulders, as Alexia continued to pull you through the market. 

You were hyperaware of everything around you and it soon became unbearable. But Alexia was happy, she chatted away like nothing was happening, comfortable and content as her canvas bag brimmed with stuff you didn’t even realise she had bought. You soldiered on, or at least tried to.

Until, your breathing began to quicken, your lungs unable to take in any of the stuffy air you walked through, your chest tightening in a way that only caused you to panic impossibly more. Each piece of fabric from your clothes grazed against your skin like a hundred scratches in a single second, your shirt and shorts beginning to feel like they were getting tighter with each step you took. And when the claustrophobia, the feeling like there was no escape at all, began to really set in, the day was over.

Your resolve had completely eroded. You tried to focus on grounding yourself — reminding yourself this was a safe space, but that was an empty claim to make to your shredded composure. You tried convincing your mind that Alexia’s hand in yours was comforting, when it only felt constrictive, her hand wholly enveloping yours like a snake, leaving no room to breathe. You clenched and unclenched your fist in time with your breaths, but you couldn't even inhale for a second before your mind went into overdrive. All the tools you relied on before were inadequate in that moment. The rational part of your brain slipped away, instead replaced by an instinctive need to escape. 

Surges of anger, panic, anxiety, fear, they all rose uncontrollably at once. Your jaw clenched, your free hand curled into a tight fist, and your vision turned hazy as your world dissolved into one indistinct blur.

The snapping point came abruptly. Perhaps it was a shrill laugh nearby, the clatter of a crate being dropped, or an impatient shove from someone trying to pass by. It was the smallest thing, but it tipped the scale far out of anybody’s control. You were alone in that moment. Trapped completely in your mind.

You missed how Alexia called your name over and over, how her hand nudged yours to desperately try to grasp your attention. It was only when her hands grabbed both your forearms that you were brought back down, but only for half a millisecond, before it all went south.

“What?!” You snapped at her, jumping back out of her touch. 

As a result, there were about thirty pairs of eyes on you. Everybody around paused, your sharp shout cutting through the buzz of the market, and it went so quiet that every flutter of a fly’s wing and every creek of wood could be heard. 

You took another step back when Alexia came towards you, a worrisome look on her face with her hands out in front of her like she was trying to not spook an untrusting animal in front of her. She rushed out some words of reassurance that fell into the background with all the other noises around that had picked up again, the market-goers losing interest in a seemingly harmless situation. They didn’t register within you, nor did her intentions. Your mind was far too good at playing tricks on you, convincing you of things that were far from the truth but in the moment felt like gospel.

There was no way out of where you were, both in the physical and the mental sense, and that was the main factor in the eruption that had just happened. With so many emotions coursing through you, there was an intense itch to find a release from them all. So before you realised, your arms crossed over your chest, hands on your upper arms just above your elbow, and you began to roughly palm, rub, grab at the skin there, needing a distraction from the volume of your mind and the world, whilst also desperately trying to get the movement to act as a release of the crushing press of the feelings inside of you. 

If you were alone at that time, god only knows what would have happened. Fortunately you weren’t.

The next time Alexia touched you was the featherlight weight of her hand on your lower back, the minor contact enough to lead you through the winding paths of the market. Your legs ran on autopilot, but you stumbled with every few steps, eyes too blurry to see the bumps and dips in the cobbles underneath your feet. There were probably tears down your face, though you’d reached such a broken point that your body was just… numb. You weren’t in control of anything anymore, hadn’t been for a while, but this was a new extremity. You weren’t even present in your own mind. Just an innocent, unknowing passenger in the car crash that had come out of nowhere.

Somehow, with her own hands trembling from concern, Alexia managed to lead you out of the chaos of the market to those same rusted, paint-chipped gates from earlier— the entrance of the park area. She was lost on what to do or say, but rationally she knew the only thing that would work for you right now was getting you home. 

“I will drive us back to your flat, back home, okay?” 

You gave her no indication that you heard her, which she was expecting, though you had heard the one word you were in dire need of and it was the first thing so far that managed to break through into your overwhelmed mind. Your hands were still moving roughly against the skin of your arms, sure to leave marks afterwards, but Alexia knew if she attempted to stop you, it’d only make matters worse. She had to get you home. Seeing you like this was breaking her.

It took a concerningly small amount of effort to guide you to the car; you were pliant and mindless, the exhaustion having fully taken over the minute you left the crowded space. She opened the door for you, helped you into the seat, and put the belt on. You leaned your head back against the seat rest and stared straight ahead. Whether it’d help or not, Alexia wasn’t sure. But she had to do one thing, more for the sake of her sanity than yours. With a quiet call of your name, she gently put a hand under your chin and turned you so you faced her.

“I’ll take you home and look after you. You will be okay.” She whispered, tentatively brushing away some of the tears still on your cheeks with her thumb. Her words were a sentiment for her as much as they were for you. “You’ll be okay soon.”

—

Next thing you knew, you were in your bed, lay on your side with your weighted blanket over you and Alexia nowhere to be seen.

It was definitely the calm after the storm. The room was mostly dark apart from the light that bled through the curtains which were closed, you could hear the quiet whir of the AC as well as the dull hum of traffic on the street below, but that was about it. It was a stark contrast to how things were before.

You don’t exactly remember getting home after what happened after the market, but what you did know was that though Alexia wasn’t in the room, she had been at some point, because you felt her love in the way she made sure everything was properly set up for you. The AC hadn’t been on before you left earlier and it only could have come back on by someone turning it on. The curtains were open that morning, whereas now they were drawn. And last time you checked, your blanket was still in the dryer, waiting to be taken out when you got back. 

Everything you felt earlier still echoed faintly inside your head and chest, but the weighted blanket over you helped to anchor you back to your life again, rather than the chaos you were drowning in not so long ago. Your mind was convoluted, thoughts jumbled, and you flitted from one shattered fragment of insecurity to the other. You were simply too exhausted to hold onto any of them, emotionally and mentally drained. Though, you still tried to identify what you were feeling— was it anger? Shame? Embarrassment? You couldn’t put a finger on it. 

Your hands still shook, your chest still shuddered with every breath. Your clothes still felt scratchy and overbearing, just less so now that you lay in the aftermath of it all. Instead of focusing on that, you drifted your attention to the feeling of the blanket on you; you focused on its texture, its softness, the heaviness of it and how it draped over you and helped to extinguish the flame that was overstimulation and overwhelm. These small but familiar details offered a tiny foothold in the mirror maze of your mind that you were still trying to escape from, only for the ruined reflection of you at the market to be shown back to you.

The longer you spent in that position, a deep, bone-level weariness quietly consumed you, like every aspect of you right down to your soul had been drained. But even still, your mind continued its hyperactive ways, replaying the day’s events over and over like a faulty film reel. The memory of it isn’t the slightest bit cohesive, it was just flashes of moments— the suffocating press of people from every direction, clamour of voices, the overloading mixture of scents. You alternated between frustration and exasperation, wanting to desperately forget what happened whilst not being able to move on from the embarrassment of it. 

However, the strain of it slowly began to dissipate with each minute you spent back at home in bed, a safe space where there were no expectations, where time was temporarily unimportant, and where there were no watchful eyes or scathing glares at the disruption you’d caused. And eventually, you felt like you had gained back control of your mind again. It was quieter then; the world felt muted, less aggressive, though you could feel that you were still wary of your surroundings because of how everything ambushed you earlier.

You weren’t fully recovered, you still felt heavy and your body ached due to the tension in your muscles and joints when it all came falling down, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed but the sun sat a little lower on the horizon when you finally felt able to get out of bed. The desire for time alone had gone, you needed something else then, and at this point of the relationship you felt comfortable enough to seek exactly what you needed without giving it a second thought. 

The door to your room creaked like it always did when you opened it, your apartment mostly silent save for the occasional huff from the kitchen as the person you were looking for busied herself with any chore she could think of as she waited patiently for you. 

You didn’t quite know what to say, but one of the best things about your relationship was that often in times like this, words weren’t a necessity. So you bypassed her and headed straight for the sofa, sitting in the corner and curling your feet underneath you, almost like you were making yourself as small as possible. And, just as you expected, not a minute went by before the blonde headed over, trying to disguise the worry she felt by giving a tight-lipped smile that was more on the amusing side than the reassuring one.

When she sat down, however, she left a gap between you both and perched only on the edge, which wasn’t what you wanted. One shared glance later and Alexia was smiling properly this time, shuffling to sit back against the cushions and beckoning you over with a small wave of her hand. With a sheepish but slightly triumphant look on your face, you moved along the couch and chose to sit sideways on her lap, one of her arms immediately wrapping around your waist as the hand of the other landed just above your knee. She pulled you close to her, and you settled into her with a relieved sigh, indescribably glad to have the final piece of the puzzle to self-regulation in your possession.

For some time, the pair of you didn’t speak, only relishing in the comfort you both needed after the day that had been had. At some point, Alexia noticed the redness to your skin from earlier and subconsciously brought a hand up to one of your arms, her thumb gently tracing over them with a frown on her face. She felt compelled to speak then.

“Please, engel, don’t put yourself through uncomfortable situations just to make me happy. If you asked me to, I would have taken you home earlier in a heartbeat.” The midfielder said carefully, panicking a little when she heard you sigh before calming when you buried your face in her neck.

“I didn’t really know it was going to be uncomfortable until it was already happening.” You told her in a mumbled, downbeat tone that made her hug you tighter against her. She contemplated her next words, wondering whether it was wise to voice them or not, before deciding that you’d hate it if you found out she’d kept her feelings from you.

“I’ve never seen you like that before.” Her fear and sadness was evident when she spoke, matching the frown still on her face and the furrow to her brow. You pressed your lips to the skin of her jaw in a somewhat apologetic gesture, which made her feel a little bad. “We’re both okay though, mi amor. I love you and we’re okay. I’m not mad or anything, this isn’t your fault. I don’t want you to feel guilty. It’s over now, it’s in the past, and we’re here together now.”

It might have been a minor reminder, but it relieved a lot of the remaining anxieties and insecurities you had. Even though she made sure you knew she never judged you for anything, you were only human, and sometimes the devil on your shoulder got the best of you. So, to hear her say she knew it wasn’t your fault and that she wasn’t angry, it was… very needed.

The mix of physical touch and words of affirmation never failed to work wonders for you. The period of time after an event like earlier was a delicate time to say the least, where your mind and your self-esteem was easily swayed by whatever reaction waited for you afterwards. Having Alexia be so welcoming, non-judgemental, caring and adoring even after what she’d witnessed made a world of a difference.

“Better day tomorrow?” You said shyly after moving back to look at her. She shook her head at first, which greatly confused you, before she smiled brightly, softly, reassuringly, and leaned forwards to kiss your temple.

“Better evening tonight after a bad day. And then a very good day tomorrow.” Her words were a little skewed, probably lost in translation, but you understand what she was getting at and it warmed your heart all the same.

It was important to you then, that you voiced your thoughts from just a moment ago. She had to know how important she was to you.

“Thank you, Ale. For everything.” You started, laughing quietly at the puzzled expression on her face. “You always know what to do, what to say. You always make me feel better after a day like this and I don’t know how you do it but… you changed my life.”

Her reaction was the sweetest. Her cheeks blushed red and she turned away for a moment with a tiny disbelieving shake of her head.

“I don’t know about that, cariño.” She murmured, but you weren’t having it. You put a hand on her cheek and turned her face back to you, ensuring she met your gaze before you spoke again.

“You did. I really mean it. I think about it a lot, how you’ve changed me, how I see myself because of you and how you treat me.” You paused for a moment, smiling up at her as her eyes silently urged you to continue. “I… value myself more because of how you value me. I don’t tell you enough how grateful I am for you and what you really mean to me. You’re the greatest person I have ever met.”

The normally sure and confident captain was rendered speechless in that moment, completely caught off guard and lost for words. How she could ever match the gravity and beauty of your words, she didn’t know. But they meant so much more to her than she knew she could ever express.

Ale ducked her head down for a moment as she really took in your words, before she lifted it back up again a moment later, with tears in her eyes. 

If only you knew how much you meant to her too.

“You’re my favourite person in the world, you know that?” She said with a pointed look and a raised eyebrow, almost accusing you of foolishly being uncertain about the fact that she stated so definitively. You knew she only did that to deflect the softness of her words a little. So, you just smiled, and tucked your head back into her neck and closed your eyes, completely at peace. “My favourite person in the whole world. You changed my life too.”

—

i really really tried my best to encapsulate the autistic experience of being overstimulated and overwhelmed in such a place here but i have no idea how well it comes across to a large audience. but for me and probably others, this is the reality, no matter how much you can plan and prepare and be excited for something, it can spiral out of your control so quickly and it's definitely a downer when it happens. hope this is somewhat understandable, im gonna go hibernate out of fear now, thank you v much for reading :)

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi I love rereading all your fics and prompts! Like, multiple times throughout the day. I have a schedule. Your works are my literal bed time stories (wow that sounded weird).

Anyways (before I ramble any worse). Any updates for Child support? I just love it so much and wondering if there's more

John throws himself to the side, barely avoiding a grab from a fifth-dimension demon throwing a fit after he rejects its request to marry his son. He rolls across the ground, powering up a spell, as he mentally curses his age.

Maybe Batman was right. He should work on his physical form a little more.

"Wait! Wait! I'm sorry! Can we talk about this-" Whatever the demon was going to say is lost after John's spell slams into its chest, throwing it back out of his dimension and sealing him from his Earth for fifty years. The spell is helpful, but fifty years doesn't mean much to demons, and it will wait decades to come back and bother them.

Thankfully, John will likely be long-dead before then. It's always been his solution for most of his problems. Pushing a problem to a later date where it can become someone else's problem.

But what about his son?

Danny, who was half of Time itself, would likely be around in fifty years. If there was one thing he didn't want, it was to leave Danny with all his messes. He'll have to learn a new banishing spell and find some instructors who could teach him an entirely new magic dueling technique.

It was the responsible thing to do. Ugh, fatherhood was making him an accountable bore.

John heaves himself off the floor, sweat pouring from his forehead, and grimaces. On the stove, the eggs he was cooking for Danny's breakfast are smoking, burnt into a dark black smudge. The House of Mystery's old wood groans, displeased with all the smoke, and a second later, the stove and counter vanish as the house creates a hole to drop them out of.

"Now that's just plain rude," John tells the house, dusting his knees. "It's not like I asked to be attacked first thing in the morning. What am I going to feed Danny now?"

The house's floor tiles shift in what John has come to learn was meant to be a shrug. The blasted thing has started copying Danny's teenage behavior, including that of his son's friends, and now seemed to enjoy rebelling against John whenever possible.

Thankfully, the house also seemed to really like Danny because one of the drawers opens, and a local Gotham breakfast dinner menu is flung at him. John catches the sheet with a sigh. He won't have to go too far when dropping Danny off at school.

"Morning, Dad," Danny greets, walking into the room wearing his Gotham Academy uniform. The dark night blue blazer, black tie, and dress trousers make his son look like the heir of the second most powerful being. It only took one glance to see that Danny came from nobility.

John knows he's a handsome bloke, but he had nothing on Clockwork's human form. That man was a temptation itself, and it looks like Danny has inherited his beauty.

John will never know how the brats in Danny's other schools could not see that. His son was perfect. John fights the urge to summon a camera. He always thought the fools always showing off the children's pictures were idiotic. Now that he's a father, he understands.

He smiles, "Morning, love. How about we go out to eat for breakfast?"

__________________________________________________________

They arrived at the dinner just as it was opening. John told Danny to order some black tea and went to the bathroom. He was only gone for a few minutes, but when he returned, he found his boy surrounded by a group of teenagers wearing the same uniform.

There was a splash of angry red on Danny's face as a girl gestured to him, obviously mocking him, and the rest of the teenagers laughed. Danny's hands were clenched in his lap, shoulders hunched, and head lowered as another teenager reached out and flickered his ear.

This one was wearing those ridiculous American leather jackets for some sport. He was also the biggest teenager there, a boy who thought himself too important for his own good.

John's jaw clenched.

Bullies.

Danny had bullies at Gotham Academy. Why can't his son just be left alone?!

John was just about to march across the room, ready and willing to fight a group of children, when Danny suddenly raised his head to yell in the face of the leather jacket git.

Alarmingly, the teenagers don't have the reaction that John expects. The large boy blushes, and the teenagers all seem to grow flustered.

No, John realizes with horror. No, they fancy him. The little rats bothering Danny are into him. Were all the other bullies just dumb kids who were terrible at flirting, too?

He is so stunned by the realization that he misses the way Danny attempts to push past the boy and somehow ends up tripping over his own two feet. He tries to catch himself on the table but the thing tilts over and their drinks fly.

Danny ends up half on the ground covered in drinks and looking bloody misaberle as the rest of the children snicker. John draws to his full height, deciding that it didn't matter what these kids felt for Danny.

His son thought they were bullying him because they made him feel terrible. So they were all going to feel the wrath of the one human who bullshits his way to being one of the mightiest spell casters in history.

"What the bloody hell are you urchins think you're doing!?" He yells. The kids all take one look at him before they scatter, rushing towards their posh cars outside.

"You alright, love?" He helps the boy to his feet, wiping some liquid with a napkin.

Danny looks small as he wipes away at his eyes. There weren't any tears; he was just taking the tea that had run down his face off. "I'm okay. Thanks, Dad."

"Do they bother you a lot?" He asks, anger growing in his chest. "We can go to your headmaster."

"No! Telling the principle will only make things worse!" Danny shouts, looking up in alarm. "Besides, they don't really bother me that much. Damian can usually scare them off. They should go for me, I can handle it; most other kids don't."

Fuck, where has he heard that phrase before?

It's alright if he hits me. I can handle it better than Mum.

John takes a breath through his nose, willing it to calm him down. This is another change that has come to be ever since he learned about Danny. Before, John would have gone off the handle, started a fight, yelled till he was red, drank, or slept through his issues, and damn the consequences.

He's got to think with a clearer head now. He owes Danny because of what his other father will do and because John wants to be the kind of father he never had.

The waitress rushes over, helping them get things set to right, and Danny apologizes for repeatedly knocking on the table. She waves away his worry, stating she saw the group and that, as someone who's worked near Gotham Acadamy for years, she knows what kind of students go there.

She also mentioned seeing what happened to the scholarship students over the years after nodding her head to Danny's pin. John hated that it was a requirement for Danny's uniform as a "show" of his accomplishments when all it did was single him out as a target.

While his son is distracted, John sends a quick text message to Bruce, informing him of the bullying Danny is going through.

Bruce responds with a single message: "It shall be handled." for once, he doesn't roll his eyes at the theatrics. A small thump on the window makes him glance up from his phone screen.

Pressed up against the glass is a blond teenage boy with wide eyes, breathing heavily and looking like a child staring at a feast of their favorite foods. John makes a face as the teenager's palms' and nose lean more into the glass, disorientating his image, but nothing could top the manic grin on his face.

John follows the boy's eyesight to where they practically devour his son, who is busy looking at the pasty bar. The waitress told him to pick anything he liked in the house to try and cheer him up from his bully.

Danny takes his sweets very seriously and studies his options with hyper-focused determination. He bends at his waist to look at the far-back brownies, and the teenager in the window lets out a cat-like growl of approval.

Alarmed, John steps in front of Danny, blocking him and his bum from view. The teenager, wearing the same uniform as Danny, and John was pretty sure he's seen this kid at Gotham High School when they had been touring the place before deciding to take Burce's offer, locks eyes with him.

John doesn't have to see into the stranger's scowl to confirm what he already knows.

That was not a human in control of the body. A demon likely took the unfortunate human for a joy ride. John raises his hand, spell crackling at his fingertips, and the scowl turns darker as the demon wearing the stolen face seers.

Just as he is about to fire off a spell, Danny's voice cuts through the tension, stepping around John with a happy "Bernard!"

His son walks up to the window before freezing and then looks back at John with the same bone-chilling expression of anger that he has only ever seen on one other being. That one being who could make the very fabrics of the universe fall apart despite not shouting or rampaging.

Danny inherited Clockwork's anger, it seemed.

"That thing is overshadowing my friend Bernard Dowd." Danny's voice is low and echoing. Somewhere behind him, John can hear the waitress gasp for air as the room's pressure increases, to Danny's displeasure. "I'm going to kill it."

John's knees shake as he fights to stay upright. "Alright. Make sure you finish murdering it before your second class. You have a chemistry test today."

Danny nods, walks outside, and grabs Bernard's arm to drag him into a dark alley. The dumb thing looked pleased, spraying something into its mouth. I thought Danny was going to snog it.

Fool.

As soon as Danny left, the pressure disappeared from the dinner, every human inside sighing relief once they could breathe better.

"What in the world was that!?" The waitress demands, her voice strained with fear.

John turns to her with a shrug. "Puberty."

Outside, a loud honk is heard as a certain teenager in a leather jacket slams his head against his steering wheel with a wail. His friends are quick to comfort him to the best of their abilities. They likely saw Danny drag the possessed human into the alleyway.

Good.

"Do you have any alcoholic drinks?" He asks the horror-stricken woman. "I need something strong."

"It's seven in the morning."

"Ah, a coffee then. Black. Strong. Anything to help me raise my boy and get through the day."

There is a long pause before she responds. "Of course, and it's on the house. Not easy being a single parent to....whatever that was."

At least she has a heart.

[straows]

“Why won’t you marry me?!”

In which you have some bad past trauma and it's holding back your relationship with Gojo.

A/n: This is honestly just for me. These Sandra Bullock movies have me sobbing my fucking eyes out and writing shitty ass stories. Anyways. This is hurt/comfort. It also hasn't been spell-checked or anything so don't shit on it pls.

“Baby, why haven’t I met your parents?” Gojo gave you a quirky little grin, kissing your cheek sweetly.

You stared at him, your happy mood immediately faltered. “Well, I- I— it’s just not really important.” You gave him a little smile and kissed his forehead, before going into your bedroom.

Gojo sighed, growing frustrated. You always did this. Anytime he asked about your parents, about marriage, about children, you completely shut down.

And he was getting so tired of it. He just wanted to take the step of your relationship, he wanted to be with you. You’d been together for 4 years for fucks sake.

Getting up, he tried to keep his frustrations in, walking inside your shared bedroom, “baby please, I’m ready to take this to the next step—“

“No goddamn it no!” You snapped at him, eyes glossy and a mean look on your face. But all the anger just covered up so much trauma.

“Why the hell not?! You have met everybody in my life! I have given you everything!” Now he was yelling back, the vein his forehead straining.

“Stop fucking asking me all the fucking questions!” You stood up from the bed.

One thing led to another and you were having a screaming match.

However, when Gojo raised his hand a little too quickly, you flinched. Your body tensed so hard and your head shrunk back.

Gojo stared at you, mouth agape at your reaction. He watched as you looked back up at him, as if you were waiting for a hit or anything.

When you saw his staring at you, you grew so fucking embarrassed. Your face was red and your eyes were teared up, tear streaks running down your face and oh— you were a fucking mess.

You immediately grabbed your keys and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind you. In nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, no shoes or socks.

“Wait! Sweets you can’t go out like that please—“ he tried to follow after you, but you were pulling out of the driveway so fast there were streaks on the road. “Fuck fuck fuck!” He yelled, slamming the door shut so hard it knocked photos off the wall.

A picture of you and him lay on the ground, shattered to bits and torn.

“Shit…” he sighed, his own tears beginning to fall as he leaned down to pick up the picture. Flipping over the picture, he noticed a phone number. Curiosity mixed with the absolute feeling of his heart cracking in fucking half. So he called it.

“Hello?” And old woman’s voice answered.

Gojo’s brows furrowed, “who is this? This is Gojo Satoru.”

“This is **** (your mom’s name)”, the older woman answered.

“Are you y/n’s mother?” Gojo’s voice got a little lighter, would he finally get to meet you?

“Yes… is this her boyfriend?” The woman got a little sassier.

“Yes… well, I am trying to marry your daughter but she is proving to be… very stubborn…” Gojo sighed, before plopping down on the couch, deciding to give you space, he felt so fucking bad.

“What happened?” Your mother spoke up after a hefty moment of silence.

“I asked her about when I could meet her family… and she freaked out.” Gojo sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Oh… well that’ll do it I suppose.” She sighed, sipping on the Bloody Mary she’d made moments prior.

“What do you mean? Seriously all I want to do is marry the woman, why is it so hard?” Gojo glared at the picture for a second before the anger immediately dissipated into sadness. “She acts like the floor will fall out from under her any second.”

“It’s because it has, it always has. Poor thing, I s’pose this is my fault.” The old woman sighed, glancing out of the window and at the little pond a few yards out.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ll admit I wasn’t the best mother. She was the oldest out of three and I had a rocky relationship with my husband. I guess I’d taken it out on her… left her alone to take care of her siblings and her father. That drunk old bastard,” she huffed, “she hates me now. I understand why. Every time things would get good, something would always, always go wrong.”

“…” Gojo stayed quiet for a long time. Just taking in this information. He had no idea, he had no idea about anything. Anything about your life before you’d turned 23.

“She’s afraid she’ll end up like me, afraid her marriage will turn out like mine, that she’ll treat her kids like I did mine. I’ll forever regret what I did to my poor sweet girl.” Your mother sighed softly, heart aching with regret and agony that she’ll never get her daughter back.

“…I have to go.” Gojo immediately hung up the phone and stood up. Dialing your number over and over and over and over and over again, he called you 106 times.

Every time, he got no answer. So, he just decided to wait. He cleaned up the glass, tried to watch a show, and eventually tried to cook dinner. But he was terrible at it. You were much better. And that thought had his shoulders slumping.

It wasn’t until dark that you finally showed up again. Eyes all red and swollen, bare feet roughed up and you had fresh little cuts and bruises that littered your body.

You’d gone and ran through the woods to get to the old creek you used to play in as a kid.

It was 100% not safe, 100% stupid, and it 100% had Gojo’s heart shattering a little more.

You didn’t say anything to him, just walked past him and slipped into the guest bedroom, before collapsing on the bed.

You’d exhausted yourself with all the crying and walking you’d done. But you still didn’t want to speak to Gojo. You weren’t mad at him, not really. Just scared.

Things had been going so good. What happens if you marry him and end up a drunkard witch like your mother? What if you turn cruel and horrible to your children?

Fears ran deep and trauma was still solidified in your mind from your adolescence.

“Baby?” Gojo’s voice cut you away from your mental thoughts. From the spiral you were threatening to go on again.

Glancing up, you noticed him staring at you with sad eyes, “please talk to me.” He whispered so softly. And when you didn’t say anything, he took that as a good sign and walked further into the room before sitting down on the bed.

“…”

“I spoke to your mother.”

You immediately looked up at him, shocked and horrified all at the same time. “You did what?!”

“I’d accidentally broken the frame and saw the number…” he handed you the picture of the two of you, your mother’s number scribbled on the back.

You’d written that a while ago. When you had debated on calling her or not. You’d written down to have her number somewhere, just didn’t want it in your phone.

“…”

“…”

“…”

“I understand now why you don’t want to take any steps further…” Gojo spoke so softly, his touch so gentle on your chin as he had you looking up at him. “Baby, I am so sorry. I had no idea what’d happened or what you’d gone through… I should have never pressured you like that.”

You just stared at him, your bottom quivering and your eyes growing glassy again.

“I love you. With all my heart. You never, and will never ever have to worry about the carpet getting yanked out from under your again.” He kissed your forehead softly. “I want to be there for you, in sickness and in health, I want to be there for you in the good and the bad. I want you, all of you.”

“You don’t mean that.. I-I— what if down the road you start to resent me- or- or what if-“

“No, baby that won’t happen.” Gojo gave you the most adoring expression, he was looking at you like you truly were the only thing in his life— in his world even. “It won’t happen because I love you with my everything, and nothing will ever change that. And if I need to remind you every morning and every night I will.”

You swallowed thickly, sighing shakily before burying your face in his neck as you crawled up to him. “I’m so sorry baby.” You murmured, the tears already flowing.

“It’s okay. You’ve done nothing wrong, pretty.” He whispered against your hair, kissing your forehead before wrapping his arms around you completely. “But please, next time we argue or anything like that, put some pants and shoes on before going running through the woods.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, a little giggle leaving you. And that had a smile on his face almost immediately. “I love you Toru.”

“I love you, sweets.”

[toxicrelief]

Crawling Back to You

Chapter One

Synopsis: You quit. The Guardians of the Globe? What a joke. You are surrounded by assholes. Rex-Splode being the biggest of them all. Except, now he keeps trying to call you. And there's a knock at the door.

Pairing: Rex Sloane x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Chapter: 1/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

• TW: alcohol mentioned,

Note: My first attempt ever at a fanfiction. Could not find any Rex x Reader on Ao3, and I am a sucker for a slow burn. Just watched two YouTube videos on how to use Tumblr, and here’s the first draft of chapter 1! Please tell me what you think! Once I have more chapters I’m going to post it on Ao3 as well.

Background: Chapter 2 will character build the MC more, this chapter is meant to be more of a hook.

“Go away!”

The knocking stilled for a moment; you stood just a few feet from your front door. God, he did not know how to take a hint. You had turned your phone off over half an hour ago when he first tried to call you. And you were sure if you turned it on now a litany of notifications would hinder it from running smoothly for at least a few minutes.

The silence lasted a bit longer before a few more knocks rapped against the door. It was dark out; it must be late. But to be honest, you were not sure what time it was. After all your phone has been powered off for who knows how long, and you were not about to just sit in front of the microwave for your time-checking purposes.

“Please-” A soft voice said through the door, followed by a soft thud. The assailant must have just put their head against the door. You could picture it. A sad, pathetic sight. With a sigh and a roll of your eyes you responded.

“Why Rex.” It was not really emphasized as a question, but an exasperation. Running a hand through your hair you turned and put your back against the door. Against your better judgment, your fingers brushed against the cool metal of the lock.

There was another long pause, for a second you thought you could hear his breathing, quick, erratic, messy.

It is odd to think that everything has led to this. Years, months, weeks, days, it did not matter, a lifetime had passed since you had both met. He’s an asshole. Has always been an asshole. It was the first thing you thought when he opened his damn mouth during your first encounter. Never had you ever met something so egotistical as Rex-Splode. God, even thinking his name made you want to rip your hair out. It was insane to you that someone could be so in love with themself that they did not even have an identity outside of their “secret” identity.

Maybe he was ashamed on some deeper level. If he was even capable of being that self-aware. Maybe the only interesting things about him were his abilities. Who he is on a level past that is so disappointing and pathetic, pathetic, that he has erased it. He practically lives in his costume, in fact, you once saw him wearing street clothes and before you could fully be surprised, he disintegrated it to reveal that he was in fact, still wearing that damn costume.

But you had to admit, he was able to jump into the action much faster than you because you had to grab your backpack and pull your own costume on. Which regrettably you still are not great at doing with complete efficiency.

He was a good hero though, you could admit this to yourself internally. As unpleasant as he was as an individual, he made up for it in a lot of ways with his competence. They had definitely gotten their asses beat loads of times, but he was never one to give up.

This was one of the few things you admired about him, but as of right now, it was the bane of your night.

“I… I have to talk to you.” The voice responded finally, “Fuck- Please Joy.”

You found yourself rolling your eyes once again. You hated that nickname. And you made it well known. You held nothing short of disdain for that stupid, stupid-

And then he whispers something, it hardly makes its way through the wood. You cock your head slightly in surprise, pointing your ear towards the door. And then you hear it again, a little louder this time, you had not imagined it. Rex had just said your name, your actual name, not your alias, or any of his ridiculous nicknames for you, your given name. You could count on one hand how many times you remembered him saying it.

Suddenly you’re unlocking the door, bad idea, and you’re pulling it ajar just slightly, bad idea.

His hair is wet, it must be raining outside. It’s too bad you cannot hear it in your apartment, it would be nice to lull off to sleep to the rhythmic tapping. There is also a faint scent of alcohol. Great. Much to your surprise he is wearing street clothes right now, but part of you wonders if even now he is wearing that orange and yellow suit underneath. That cannot be comfortable.

After a few moments of silence, you realize you are just standing there looking him up and down. Is he not going to say anything? Your mouth parts slightly, ready to say something snarky, your brow rising.

“Can I come in?”

Silence again. No, you cannot come in, I hate you and I hate your stupid face and your stupid ponytail, man-bun, whatever it is. You have done nothing but complicate my life and make me feel miserable.

“Fine.” Shit.

You shuffled slightly to the side, letting him come in. He took in your apartment for a second, seemingly forgetting why he was here. In the dim light of your apartment you could see now that not only was his hair wet, but he seemed to be almost soaked, scratch that, he definitely was soaked.

“Did you walk here?” Disbelief is clear in your tone. Headquarters was much too far, a twenty-minute drive on a good day. Maybe he had been drinking at a nearby bar, but that was still quite the walk.

“What? No.” There was that familiar indignation. Most assuredly a lie though, there was no other reason why he would be quite literally trailing water into your entryway. Rex had a way of seeming disingenuous no matter what he said, which made it hard to see through his lies sometimes, but you were starting to be able to pick up on certain cues.

He walked up to a shelving unit in your living room. It had books on it, not that you ever had time to read, they were mostly birthday and last-minute housewarming gifts. There were some framed photos too, well kind of. There were picture frames that still had the generic stock footage in them from the store. A sad reminder of the fact you could not have a normal life, and now Rex was staring at them.

“You like the family tree?” You finally quip, sighing as you leave to go get some towels from the other room “You’re making a mess everywhere.” You state dryly, handing him a towel and drying up the trail he left from where he was standing to the front door.

Rex simply gave an absent-minded hum. He never shut up for this long usually, it was nearly impossible to get a word in without him feeling the need to have the last word during your first. Even if you were not saying something that could be argued with, he always seemed to find a way. He hesitated for a moment just standing holding the towel before he tried to dry off the ends of his pants which were the major culprit of the indoor mess.

You could not deny your mind was racing, and he was apparently in no hurry to explain why he wanted to come in. After spending far too much time making a sad attempt at banging down your door, he was suddenly docile. He was not looking at you and his hands were fiddling with the damp towel. If you did not know better, you might even think he was nervous. Had he even looked at you since entering?

“I like your apartment, the interior design in here is… nice.” He finally said.

What.

“Oh, thanks?” What? “It actually came mostly furnished; I did not want to search for furniture while also trying to settle in with the Guardians you know? Kinda…busy.” What is happening right now?

“Oh.” He seemed almost disappointed. “Well, it’s nice.”

Great talk.

“So-”

“Uh-”

“Oh sorry-”

“No, you go first.”

YOU’RE THE ONE WHO WAS JUST BEGGING ME TO LET YOU IN WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘No, you go first’ WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

“Not to interrupt your sightseeing in my apartment, but what exactly do you want Rex?” Silence. Again. Is he drunk? He’s not swaying, but you definitely caught the scent of it earlier. He was not usually the poster child for moderation either. But he was also not slurring, then again, he has said approximately seven words since walking in so how can you really know.

“You have to come back to the Guardians of the Globe-”

“No.”

Theres the eye contact, first time since he walked it, but now it felt weird. You wish he would go back to staring at the embarrassing frames on the shelf.

“You’re a strong asset to the team-”

“Oh do not give me that rehearsed bullshit. Is Cecil feeding that to you right now? Because that’s a new low for him.” That was not a new low for Cecil, he has definitely gone much lower. You knew this after learning more about the ReAnimen.

“Fuck, Joy what do you want me to say?” He held his hands out in exasperation, taking a step towards you.

“I am not going back; you’re wasting your time. I am sure that you have better ways to spend your evening than being here beating a dead horse. Also, I am getting tired of you calling me that.” You step back towards the door, grabbing the handle to escort him out.

“Half the Guardians just left on some bullshit expedition to Mars, only Rae, Kate, and I stayed behind.” He folded his arms and did not budge. “If anything happens-” He gritted his teeth, man it must have almost physically hurt for him to admit that you were a good member. It was not too long ago that he practically threw a fit when Cecil introduced you. “At least wait until the others get back to go on this pity party.”

Rude.

“Seriously?” You could not believe the nerve he had to beg to be let in and then pull whatever this was. “If you need back-up so bad ask Mark.”

“He left with them.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Honestly Rex, I do not care. You’re a big boy, I think you can hero without me holding your hand for a little bit.”

“What is your deal!” He glared but then closed his eyes taking a breath. “I did not come here to fight or force you.”

Cute, he’s doing self-affirmations now. Okay, time to go. Out.

“Alright this has been fun, bye Rex!” You started to open the door just to feel it slam shut again. Your gaze snapped up to his hand pressed against the door. He moved fast.

“Fuck this isn’t-” He was a little too close for comfort. You back away, your hand trailing off the door handle. His eyes follow you closely.

“Rex, you’re drunk-” You start, your arms crossing over your chest.

“No-”

“It is really late-”

“No-”

“I am tired, it’s been a really long day-”

Your name, said loud, for the third time tonight, finally shuts you up for a second.

“You’re not listening.” There’s a tense silence now, his hand is still against the door even though you have stepped away. “I’m not drunk.” He almost whispered, shaking his head as if even he did not know where he was going with this.

Right… sure…

If there was one more long silence you were going to do something violent.

“Do you need me to call a car to drive you back?” You said quickly, turning around to go get your phone. He did not say anything, but you could hear him impatiently tapping his foot behind you. After a second of holding down the power button your phone flashed to life. As you expected it struggled for a bit, once fully on a litany of messages flashed across the screen and your notification sound went off an obnoxious amount of times. You turned around to see Rex now pinching the bridge of his nose. It was such a bizarre situation you almost wanted to laugh. But instead, you ordered a car. Five minutes out.

“You did not really leave because of me, did you?” It takes you off guard, his voice is soft, there is no layered sarcasm. It is almost vulnerable feeling.

“What do you want me to say?” You mirrored his words from earlier back to him, raising your eyebrow. Was it one hundred percent his fault? No. Was it approximately ninety-two-point-eight percent his fault? Yeah, that sounded about right. But what productive would come from telling him that?

“Say it wasn’t my fault.” He rasped. He stepped towards you again. You stepped back again.

He almost looks hurt.

“The car is going to be here soon, let me show you out.”

“Goddamn it.” His jaw tensed and he looked away, but did not say anything else, and stepped aside so that you could open the door.

The tense feeling did not stay behind you in your living room, it followed you down the hall. The other apartment doors one by one make you feel like you were in a box of mirrors. Did it always take this long to get to the elevator? If you lived in an apartment building with less stairs you would have jumped at that. Quickly running down the stairs with only the footsteps resounding in your head. The idea of the two of you standing side by side in the elevator as 13 floors passed was not one you were fond of.

You shook your head to yourself remembering his outburst about not being drunk. You were getting very tired of the lies. Pressing the elevator button there was nothing left to do but wait in more silence.

Maybe you should go back to the Headquarters with him.

If he was telling the truth about the Mars trip, then it might be better for you to be around. Even if Rex was lying through his teeth earlier about you being an “asset” in his eyes, you actually were. Even if he did not truly think so.

God, no what are you thinking? You have not even been gone twenty-four hours; you haven’t even been able to sleep on it. No way.

But a part of you wanted to make sure Rex got back safe. Even if he made horrible decisions and bruised your pride more often than not, you had been through a lot of fights together. And he does not seem to be thinking clearly.

With a ding, the elevator door opened, and you stepped in, Rex following behind. You pressed the button for the first floor.

Begrudgingly, you had to admit he had even saved your skin more than once, not just in the field but to the team before as well. He was not one to step down when he thought someone was being unrighteously lectured. Even if he did not like the person being lectured very much. He must have had some sense of loyalty. God forbid you defend him though, or he would get upset you did not let him handle it himself. Now you were getting irritated all over again at several unpleasant memories.

If you were one hundred percent honest you were probably going to go back to the Guardians after a week, maybe less. It would be embarrassing after the scene you made about leaving “for good” but you were meant for it. What good were you if you were not a hero? A week. Maybe less. Rex gave you approximately fourteen hours.

You glanced over at him without turning your head. He was biting the inside of his cheek, staring straight forward. No readable expression. Why was he so quick to try hauling you back? He could hardly stand being in the same room as you for more than five minutes. You used to pride yourself on being mostly likable, you had very few enemies. You were even nice to Rex for quite some time, but it did not make a difference. He was just an ass. An ass who thinks to come to your apartment when he’s drunk? He turned his head slightly and you faced forward again with a snap.

The elevator dinged again, ground level.

Hurriedly, you leave the elevator, a certain discomfort you couldn’t place enveloping you. The glass doors are an entryway ahead of you, showing clearly how much it was pouring outside. No wonder he was unintentionally giving your floor a spot clean. You could see the car waiting outside, the rain showing even more clearly in the beams of the headlights.

You could hear it now, the thrumming of the rain. It immediately made you feel more relaxed. You did not hold the glass door for Rex.

It was very cold outside; you should have grabbed a coat. I guess you had more pressing matters on your mind. You sighed to yourself, not able to hear it over the rain. The windshield wipers of the car squeaked as you got closer. You waited a moment for the driver to open the passenger window, telling them where to take him, and to make sure he gets inside fine. If the driver was just some random guy this would have been highly irregular and definitely not in their job description. But it was one of Cecil’s guys, so they knew exactly where to go.

The passenger window closes, and you go to open the back seat for Rex. Once again, his hand stops the door from fully opening and you prepare yourself for another short-lived argument. But you glance up and he’s just… looking at you.

There’s that feeling again, from when you left the elevator. Was it apprehension? Waiting for him to say something stupid? You shifted back slightly; he leaned forward slightly.

Odd.

“The driver will take you to the headquarters.” You say finally, your gaze jerking from his eyes to his shirt collar. You could see a sliver of orange and yellow and for a second you thought triumphantly that you knew it. He is wearing it still, typical. Focus.

“Come with me.” His brow is furrowed, he must be angry. Angry he was not able to force you into submission, into coming back.

“No.” You said softly, managing a sympathetic smile. You needed at least twenty-four hours of not being around that ridiculous team.

He leaned forward slightly more; you were very close now. That feeling again. Manual breathing is now the only thing that enters your mind. How do you remember to breathe when you are not actively thinking about it? How did you manage for so long until right now? Because this is taking a lot of effort to make sure you’re breathing normally.

“Please.” He’s not looking you in the eye, his eyes have flickered down for a moment, a blink and you miss it moment. You did not blink, and you did not miss it. His lips are slightly parted, and he edges forward what could not have been more than a millimeter. Your gaze returns to his eyes. There is no way. He is drunk and you are imagining this, go to bed.

“Goodnight Rex.” You finally say, but you do not back away immediately. He is entirely in your personal space. But a small insignificant voice in your mind is screaming at you not to move, not to go back to your apartment. You had to know why he was there. For Pete’s sake, it had only been fourteen hours. Why were you now standing here feeling crazy wondering if he was actually leaning forward more. You needed him to explain.

And then you stepped back.

If you did not know better the emotion that crossed his face would have looked a lot like disappointment.

Rex got into the car and closed the door. You turned around to watch it drive off. A shiver ran through your body. Damn rain.

He’s an asshole. Has always been an asshole. It was the first thing you thought when he opened his damn mouth during your first encounter.

Divider credit: @/ saradika

Chapter two

[jewishgirlrevolt]

8x09 Thoughts. I'm done with Eddie Diaz

I tried to write about this episode previously.. and I am going to send a second note to ABC about some of what I will outline here.

So let's talk about the good first. As utterly predictable as the serial killer plot was, it was a WILD ride. JLH is an amazing talent and I am SO looking forward to her and Abigail Spencer playing more off one another next week.

Buck with the dog was so cute. Also excellent choice in dog. Props to K9 casting.

Now let's get to everything else. Sorry this got really long. Under the cut.

TLDR: Eddie Diaz is a jerk. I don't have any desire to root for him anymore, and I don't care what happens to him. Buck has his flaws, but I want to root for him and for BuckTommy to get back together.

Buck helping Eddie find a subletter was not Buck being bad or bratty. I think he was genuinely trying to help Eddie find someone suitable. But he was also dealing with a lot. He's still not over Tommy, and now he's dealing with his best friend leaving. So it's Buck not thinking through and brain to mouth connection short circuited.

Eddie, meanwhile, didn't even tell Buck he had found a serious option until after he had made a down payment. How is Buck not supposed to feel abandoned? If I were moving away, I would let my best friend know the situation long before this.

Ok, so Buck is told to leave, and he notices he doesn't have his keys, or phone, and overhears Eddie saying to a potential tenant that "He doesn't have any ties here." Which is Bullshit for 2 reasons. 1. It shows Eddie doesn't consider the 118 as anything more than coworkers (if they were friends he would have told them his plan earlier on so they could work out and help him while finding a replacement). And 2. TIA PEPA and his cousins LIVE IN LA! Continuity error or not, I don't know. I don't care. This post is already horrifically long.

Now during the fight, Eddie is super mad at Buck and honestly...had he had ONE normal conversation with Buck this all could have been avoided. Buck comes back to apologize after revealing the situation to the team, something Eddie should have done weeks ago. What Eddie does is shit on Buck. And it wasn't necessary. Now! I've had fights with friends, I've been frustrated on occasion with my best friend. But I would never in a million years even THINK to use their insecurities in a fight against them. That's cruel and while Buck didn't handle the situation in the best way, Eddie was way too hard on him. Cause again, Eddie could have resolved this with one conversation. And we know Buck would never be upset with Eddie for choosing Christopher. But I think Eddie knows deep down that he's making another impulsive and stupid decision. Wow Eddie really has one brain cell. And he's clearly projecting that insecurity on Buck. But it's not Buck's job to validate Eddie's half-assed ideas. I think it was @nephilimeq's amazing post that really hammered in the emotional maturity and avoidance Eddie so

What we see is Buck's biggest fear shown, the idea that people tolerate him/care about him as long as he is useful.

Because Buck has done so much for Eddie. He took care of Christopher and was there for both of them at the drop of a hat. And Eddie by comparison.. and I know friendships aren't always 50/50. But it feels like this friendship is like 95% Buck and 5% Eddie.

I think it was @nephilimeq's amazing post that really hammered in my problems with Eddie. It's that he hasn't matured emotionally and faced his emotions and actions. And that's why I am so done with Eddie. And why I fully support Buck getting back together with Tommy.

Now Buck has his flaws, there's stuff he could have handled better this episode and the narrative needs to have him grow, and of course get back together with Tommy, who sees him and loves him, flaws and all. And it is clear that Buck isn't just dealing with Eddie leaving, he's still not over the breakup. And pile both of these things together... he needs a hug. But Eddie was in fact a complete jerk about the whole thing. This episode for me also shows why not only is B*ddie not going canon, even if it did, it would not be a good relationship because I don't think Eddie knows how to have one.

I don't really care if Eddie comes back or not because Eddie's not a character I want to root for anymore. I hope he's able to repair his relationship with his son for Christopher's sake though.

[fiddleyoumust]

I've been thinking about my taste in historical c-dramas and realized I always lean toward political/palace intrigue over xanxia or wuxia fantasy dramas. So, without further ado, my list of favorite historical c-dramas (with a happy ending) that ground the romance in political power struggles.

1. The Double

Cast: Wang Xing Yue, Wu Jin Yan

Synopsis: After being framed for adultery by her husband and his family, Xue Fang Fei takes on the identity of the deceased daughter of a high-ranking court official in order to clear her family's name and take revenge on the people who wronged her.

This drama is flawless. Both the FL and the ML are two of my favorite characters of all time. They're both smart, funny, and badass in their own way. Their relationship is one of mutual respect and admiration, and the way they fight for and support one another is beautiful and romantic. The villains are fleshed out and great at making you hate everything about them while also understanding their motivations. Wang Xingyue gives an INCREDIBLE performance as Duke Su, and while I think Wu Jin Yan is too old to believably play a teenager, she is a fantastic actress who does a complicated character justice. I really have nothing negative to say about this drama. It's perfect to me.

2. Blossom

Cast: Li Yun Rui, Meng Zi Yi

Synopsis: A chance meeting between a woman leaving her cheating husband and a general helping a second prince overthrow the crown results in both of their deaths, intertwining their fates. When the woman wakes up reborn in her 10 year old body with all her memories intact, she has the opportunity to change her fate, the fate of the general, and maybe the entire country.

Dou Zhao and Song Mo are my parents, full stop. This couple is so good - both smart and capable in their own right, but damn near unstoppable together. Their chemistry is great. Their love and devotion for each other is crazy, and they're both just so, so pretty 🩷. I never found this drama boring, but I have seen some people say they thought the back half drags a bit. I think if you're not fully enamored with the couple, that might be the case since the back half focuses more on palace power struggles, but I'm a political intrigue girlie, so I was hooked the whole time.

3. Are You The One

Cast: Zhang Wan Yi, Wang Chu Ran

Synopsis: An anti-heroine bandit and a vassal Prince army general find their lives entwined when he saves her from near death and uses her resulting amnesia to trick her into thinking they're a married merchant couple in order to use her to catch the mastermind behind her bandit stronghold. As he sinks deeper into his own lies, he desperately tries to cling to their made-up life, fearing the day she regains her memories...

THIS SHOW!!!! My beautiful power couple who outsmart everyone but each other and wield death with knives and swords. This show does so many things right. The palace politics are interesting. The second male lead is compelling and complicated in a way that makes you seriously consider him as a contender. Both of our protagonists are smart, capable fighters who slowly realize they want the same things but have chosen different paths to achieve their goals. Also, the ML is a SIMP, which I am always here for.

4. New Life Begins

Cast: Bai Jing Ting, Tian Xi Wei

Synopsis: Ignored by his Emperor father and neglected by his concubine mother, the 6th prince of Xin Chuan marries the daughter of a farming family from a neighboring country as part of an annual marriage selection. Together, they face the challenges of court politics, royal etiquette, treatment of women, and international relations as the prince's reputation rises in the court of Xin Chuan and he begins to earn the respect of his father.

The ML and FL are great, and their relationship is solid, lovely, and heartwarming. But the real delight of this show is the women and their friendships. The unwavering support and love all the female characters have for one another is the true heart of this show. If you love women supporting women and women fighting for change and equal access to power while a few great men support them, I can not recommend this one enough.

5. The Princess Royal

Cast: Zhang Ling He, Zhao Jin Mai

Synopsis: After 20 years in an arranged marriage, Princess Li Rong has her Prince Consort, Pei Wenxuan, assassinated after she believes he's been slowly poisoning her. She dies from the poison soon after his death and wakes up to find she's gone back 20 years, memories intact, to before she and Pei Wenxuan got married. She quickly realizes that Pei Wenxuan is also back, and the two of them must decide what parts of their past they'll repeat and what parts they can change to avoid their fate.

Li Rong is one of my favorite female characters. She's cold, closed-off, analytical, and so repressed it's painful. She's tries so hard to protect herself, that she ends up missing out on the most important thing in her life the first time around and her bravery in trying to change herself enough to not miss it a second time is breathtaking. Watching fiery and charismatic Pei Wenxuan try to properly win her heart in their second life is one of the most swoonworthy romances I've watched. The politics in the show are engaging, and there is interesting meta to be had around how our desires and how we prioritize those desires affect the course of our lives.

6. The Story of Kunning Palace

Cast: Zhang Ling He, Bai Lu

Synopsis: A wicked Empress is pushed to her death after a coup overthrows the Emperor. She wakes up in her 18 year old body and vows to make different choices this time around. But changing her course is more difficult than she imagined, and things become more complicated when she gets entangled with the man responsible for the coup and her death in her first life.

I thoroughly enjoyed the politics and court drama of this show, but ultimately, it's the performances of Bai Lu, Wang Xingyue, and especially Zhang Linghe as the intense and unhinged Xie Wei, that really make this drama worth watching. Bai Lu's chemistry with both MLs is fantastic, and her scenes with Zhang Linghe are so charged that you'll be holding your breath. They both chew their way through this drama immaculately. Watch it for the simple joy of watching two actors ACT.

7. Melody of Golden Age

Cast: Ding Yu Xi, Ancy Deng

Synopsis: In order to protect her family, the 6th daughter of a low-level court official marries the favored general of the queen dowager in place of her older sister. Neither party wants the marriage, but neither can afford to anger the queen. They decide to bide their time and divorce in a year, but in the meantime, they help one another achieve various goals... and, of course, fall in love for real.

I can't be rational about Ding Yu Xi. If he's in it, I'm tuned in. His chemistry with Ancy Dang is fantastic, and watching his character, Shen Du, slowly melt and fall for his wife, Yan Xing, is so, so enjoyable. I was less interested in the mystery/court politics of this one, but I still liked it a lot. The romance is very good and Shen Du and Yan Xing are dreamy protagonists.

8. Blossoms In Adversity

Cast: Hu Yi Tian, Zhang Jing Yi

Synopsis: The feisty and brilliant daughter of a noble family must find a way to keep all the women and children in her family alive when her grandfather offends the king and gets their family's wealth, property, and status stripped away, as well as all the men banished to a labor camp.

This show is all about the FL, Hua Zhi, for me. She is a fantastic character - strong, sensible, smart, and fearless - while still managing to hold on to her heart and see the good in the people around her. Her love story with the prince/commander lacked something for me. I think I wanted it to be more intense than it was and might have worked better if a different actor played him. But, Hua Zhi, her family dynamics, the court politics, and all of the side characters were beyond enjoyable.

9. Flourished Peony

Cast: Li Xian, Yang Zi

Synopsis: A woman in a terrible marriage makes an escape with only the clothes on her back and a rare potted peony her mother left her. She ends up pawning the peony to the king's flower envoy in order to start a business, and the two become entangled as a result.

The FL, Mu Dan, is a badass. She tackles villain after villain with just her wits and the sheer determination to live her life freely. The ML, Cheng Yang, realizes early on that he's found a kindred spirit, but neither of them are interested in romance at first. I loved that they are genuinely friends for the majority of the show and that the ML trusts Mu Dan to solve her own problems, rarely stepping in to help her because he knows she's strong enough to solve it herself. This show, much like New Life Begins, highlights the horrors of being a woman in this time period. And like New Life Begins, one of the best things about this show is the women Mu Dan collects throughout her journey, building her own little found family. Flourished Peony has a 2nd season on the way that will air some time in the back half of 2025, but the end of S1 is solid and won't leave you hanging if you decide to watch it before S2 comes out.

10. The Rise of Ning

Cast: Zhang Wan Yi, Ren Min

Synopsis: After spending most of her childhood in the country away from her scholarly family, Yi Ning, the black sheep daughter, returns home for her grandmother's birthday. Rivalry between her and her other siblings and cousins cause tension, but she finds an ally in her father's illegitimate son, Shen Yuan, another black sheep who has cultivated a life for himself in the shadows of a family that doesn't acknowledge him. Together, they try to solve the mystery of Yi Ning's mother's death and decades old case involving Shen Yuan's master. A case that puts them in contact with a dangerous man from Ning's past.

Full warning, the romance in this is between Yi Ning and Shen Yuan. Spoiler: No, they're not really siblings. He knows they're not very early on. She finds out much later, and the romance starts after that, but he's very clearly already fallen for her while she still considers him a brother. If the trope bothers you, skip this one.

If you're like me and don't care 😂, this show is great. Yi Ning is a sweetheart with a spine. The second male lead is a combination of incredibly handsome and scarily unhinged, which makes him all the more sinister. Shen Yuan is smart, calm, and deadly - my male lead kryptonite!!!, and his devotion to Ning is so wonderful. I also have a Zhang Wan Yi bias. His face is just very, very good to me. The mystery plot is engaging, and I didn't ever find myself bored with this show.

[atomicami]

charity work

contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader

- summary: it’s the day of the holiday bake sale, and abby’s craving something sweeter than the desserts you’re selling. (part 3)

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, contractor/engineer!abby, texas living, no sarah, joel and jerry are both alive, jerry is not a doctor, reader has a business degree, family & work drama, semi-public sex, pet names instead of y/n, kinda roughdom!abby??, oral & fingering (r!receiving), cockblocking, strap usage (r!receiving), abby hits it from the back 🕺, edging, some mirror play, some degrading, abby referring to the strap as her cock, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything else

- author’s note: merry christmas everyone! what better way to celebrate it than with a contractor abby fic am i right? i hope y’all enjoy this one 🤍

previous parts: quick fix, surprise visit

Seven in the morning, it's only the crack of dawn, and you’re spending the early hours of the day at the farmers market, setting up for the annual holiday bake sale.

Your hands were full of all the pastries and desserts you’d spent baking yesterday while Joel was carrying the chairs and tables to set up with. You tried to walk as carefully as you could to keep yourself from tripping on your knee-high boots or spilling anything on the red sweater dress you had on. When you arrived at your spot, your dad already had everything set up for you.

“Jeez kiddo, thought you’d never make it here in time with them boot heels ya got on,” your dad joked, opening the second folding chair he had in his hand and placing it behind the table.

“Well Dad, I figured I’d make myself presentable for the bake sale, don’t you think?” you replied, carefully setting down the load of sweets on the table.

Well, if we’re being honest here, there’s only one person in particular you’re planning to make an impression on today, and she still hasn’t arrived.

For a moment, you look over to the empty spot where Abby & Jerry are settled before you begin to unpack and arrange your pastries. It’s no surprise to you that Abby still hasn’t arrived yet. After that last-minute encounter you had with her at her place, you figured that she’d be knocked out for at least another hour.

And you were definitely right. About an hour later, Abby and Jerry finally arrived, right before the bake sale officially began.

Joel leans close to you as the two of you watch them quickly rush to set their stand up. “Look at ‘em, I wonder what made Jerry n’ his kid so late to the sale…”

You honestly couldn’t help but laugh to yourself about it too. The fact that Abby and Jerry were now just setting their things up while everyone else was ready was just too funny to you. It seemed like karma got back to her after her need to call you at 1 in the morning that night.

Once the two had their table set up, the bake sale finally started.

You looked over at the table that stood in front of you. A variety of desserts that you’ve made was all spread out on top of it. You’ve spent the past day making every single dessert you could think of: brownies, cinnamon rolls, muffins, even a whole plate of peach pie, because it truly can’t be a Southern bake sale if someone’s table doesn’t have a peach pie.

And lastly, there was the round tray of flan that you made. Out of all the desserts you’ve made, the flan made you the most nervous to sell. Given that this dessert came from your mother’s side of the family, you’ve decided to make it exclusively for family events or traditions out of the fear that others wouldn’t like it.

Nonetheless, your dad practically begged you to make it for the bake sale, and you couldn’t help but oblige.

A couple hours of the bake sale pass by and it feels like years to you. Almost half of your sweets have been sold, which was good, but you can’t help but wish that this community event could be a little more…interesting to you.

And luckily, Abby was about to make her appearance to change that.

While you were distracted with the customers, Abby was watching you from across the room, patiently waiting for Joel to leave the stand to get you by yourself. She had her own plan to be able to get even with you after the stunt you pulled onto her in her office.

Because if there’s anything sweeter than a Texas holiday bake sale, it’s a fresh slice of payback.

Once she noticed that you were by yourself at the table, she excused herself to her now distracted father to walk over to your stand.

You felt a tap on your shoulder from your side and turned around to see Abby standing next to you. “Got some pretty sweet looking pastries here princess, mind if I have a taste?”

“Abby…” you tell her sternly. “You know you’re not supposed to be this close to me right now, especially with both of our dads around.”

Abby simply ignores your warning as she walks around your table, admiring all of the pastries you had set up for sale. “I know that, but I’m just kinda craving something sweet,” she says as she slightly dips the tip of her finger into the white frosting of the cinnamon roll pan before lifting it up to her mouth and sucking it clean.

You roll your eyes at her, grabbing the tray and pulling it away from her. “Well, unless you’re going to buy something, then you shouldn’t be here,” you warn her again.

“Actually…I was craving something a little sweeter than these…” she replies with a smirk, slowing down her pace as she walks around your table.

It took you a while to get her intentions, but the way her eyes were flickering between you and the table, you instantly got the message.

Your eyes widened in shock and you began to shake your head. “No, Abby, don’t you fucking dare—“

But it was too late. Within a matter of seconds, Abby dropped down to her knees and lifted the red tablecloth before crawling under the table.

You tried to kick her away so she could get out, but there wasn’t enough time to do so, because Joel was already coming your way with one of his friends next to him.

“Hey, sweetheart, you remember Martin, right? Used to work f’me when I was startin’ up the company,” he tells you as he points at him.

“Yes, hi Martin, it’s good to see you again.” you tell him with a smile.

You’re trying your best to keep your cool right now, but it’s practically impossible for you to do so now that Abby’s lifting up your sweater dress and spreading your legs open underneath the tablecloth.

Your dad looks over to Martin while gesturing him to all of your pastries arranged on the table. “My kid right here baked up all these sweets for the sale today. But this…” he pauses for a moment, pointing at the pan of flan that stood neatly at the front. “This custard thing right here’s the best thing she could ever make, I’ll tell ya that.”

“That so?” his friend asked, serving himself up a slice. “Whatcha got here, kid?”

“It’s flan, sir. I-It’s my mother’s recipe.” you reply to him, trying not to strain your voice as Abby shifts your underwear to the side from underneath.

You watch the man in front of you take a bite of the dessert, smiling after he’s fully eaten it. “Well I must say, this is one of the best desserts I’ve had in this here bake sale so far.” he said before pulling out a five-dollar bill from his wallet and handing it to you.

At that moment, when you were about to lean forward to grab the money, was when Abby’s hands grabbed ahold of your hips and pushed you back down onto the chair, causing the rest of the table to shake.

You gasp at the sudden impact, and your jaw practically fucking drops once she inserts two fingers into your pussy.

It could have been any other time when she could’ve done that move, but no. She just had to fucking do it right in front of your father, out of all people.

Regardless, you try your best to compose yourself and attempt to cover it up. “S-Sorry about that, I was trying to get up but, my leg kind of fell asleep…must be from sitting down all day.” you said to the other man, extending out your hand to take the bill from him before inserting it in the black cash box that was in front of you.

“S’ no worries ma’am,” the man simply says before waving you goodbye, and looking over to your dad to shake his hand. “Good seeing you as always Joel.” he says to him before walking off.

Your dad shakes his hand back before turning to face you. “You alright sweetheart? Seemed like you were actin’ a bit off just now.” he asked you with a concerned expression on his face.

You simply nod at him, genuinely trying to appear normal, and ignore the fact that Abby’s thick fingers were slowly pumping in and out of your cunt right now. If it weren’t for the loud atmosphere of the event, you’re almost certain that anyone could easily hear the squelching noises it made every time her fingers moved.

“Y-yeah, Dad, sorry…s’just a lot of people here this time.” you tell him nervously.

“Well, if ya need a break, I can try to cover for a bit if—“

“No!” you exclaimed, placing your hands in front of him to keep him from getting closer to you. “N-no, it’s okay, Dad,” you said to him in a quieter tone. “I’ll be alright, promise.”

Your dad opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by a barking sound, which progressively gets louder by the second. The two of you looked around to see what it was, and you seriously couldn’t believe it.

It was Alice, Abby’s dog, and by the looks of it, she was approaching your table.

You slightly flinch a bit once Alice jumps up at your table, barking up at the two of you before quickly getting down and sniffing under the tablecloth.

Joel walks over to the front of the table where the dog is in an attempt to shoo her away. “What the hell are ya doing here?! Get on out of here! Go on, get!”

You’d expect Abby to at least try to help you get her dog out, given the vulnerable position you were in right now, but she doesn’t budge about it. Instead, she only quickens the pace of her fingers inside you and moves closer to you to latch her mouth onto your throbbing clit. You want to help your dad out, you really do, but all you could focus on was trying to be quiet and not let a single moan or whimper leave your lips.

As much as Joel was trying to get the dog away from the table, she still wouldn’t move, she knew that Abby was under there, as if she could have smelled her from miles away.

“Why the hell aren’t ya leavin’?” he says to himself as he continues to move her away. “What are you tryin’ to find there?”

Your dad starts to get closer to the table now, and you can just feel your heart racing. The closer he got to it the faster your heart kept beating. This could be it. Once your dad was about to see what was under the table, it was over for the both of you.

But to your luck, as Joel was about to lift up the tablecloth, Jerry was already making his way there to get ahold of his dog. Talk about perfect timing, right?

“There you are, Alice, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” he says, leaning forward to pick up her leash from the ground.

Your dad scoffs at him and crosses his arms in disbelief. “Try to get a hold of your mutt, Jerry. Damn dog near knocked down my daughter’s table.”

“Tough talk for someone who just lost two of his clients last week to my company,” Jerry replies, clutching Alice’s leash in his hand. “I’d spend less time worrying about me and more time trying to keep your clientele if I were you, Joel.”

As blissed out as you were feeling from Abby’s mouth and fingers right now, you could still visibly see the anger rushing through your father’s veins right now.

“Don’t act so innocent, Jerry, you know damn well that you offered my clients a better deal for them.” your dad replied before pausing for a moment. “You know, you shouldn’t have gone after them, because I just got a deal to work with the Mitchell family next week. Haven’t you been eyeing them for months now?”

The two of them bicker for what feels like ages. At this point, your brain is just tuning them out, still completely blissed on the movements of Abby’s tongue rolling up and down on your clit, her fingers sliding in and out of your cunt so smoothly while her other hand grips your inner thigh to keep them open. The pleasure she was giving you under that table right now is so intense that you could seriously care less about your surroundings right now. All you wanted at that moment more than anything was to cum undone into her mouth.

“You know what, Joel? I don’t have time for this right now,” he tells him before pausing to hesitate for a moment. “I’m trying to find my daughter, have either of you seen her around?”

Oh, you knew damn well where she was.

Your dad laughs and shakes his head. “Jesus, Jerry. Can’t find your kid either? Seems like you’ve got to put her on a leash too, don’t you think?”

However, the pleasure that Abby was giving you was so intense that you didn’t realize that her name had now slipped out of your mouth.

“Oh, my god, Abby…” you say to yourself before quickly gasping and covering your mouth. You’re finally snapped back into reality as you look up to see Joel and Jerry staring back at you.

“Do you know where she is?” Jerry asked, raising an eyebrow with concern.

“O-Oh um, yeah, I-I think I saw her a few rows down, I-If you can find her there…” you tell him, trying to compose yourself once again.

Jerry simply thanks you in response before walking off with Alice alongside him.

“About damn time he left,” your dad says, watching him walk off. “Can’t stand that man for the life of me.”

Joel’s phone starts to ring moments later, leading him to pull it out of his pocket to check who it is. “Shit, s’ one of my clients…” he says with a sigh before looking up at you. “You sure you’ll be alright by yourself, sweetheart?”

You open your mouth to say yes at first, but then take a moment to reconsider. “A-Actually, do you think you could watch the stand for a bit? I could use a break.”

Abby immediately pauses her movements upon hearing that, removing her mouth and fingers out of you. You try not to whine at the loss.

Your dad nods in response. “ ‘Course I can, just let me take this call real quick, yeah? I’ll be there in just a second.” he says before briefly walking off to take the phone call.

You wait until your dad is out of sight to lift up the tablecloth, seeing the blonde below you with a confused expression on her face. “Why the hell did you tell him that you were leaving?” she whispers to you.

“Because I’m not gonna be fucking sitting here being teased by your mouth all day.” you whisper back to her, trying to keep your voice down. “If you’re going to fuck me here, then you’re gonna do it right.” you pause for a moment to check if the coast was clear. “My dad’s still gone, hurry up and go to the bathroom before he sees you. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

You watch the blonde roll her eyes before pulling the tablecloth down, quickly crawling out of the table and getting back up on her feet. She also checks to see if Joel is still gone before leaving your side and rushing off to the bathroom.

You take a quick moment to adjust your underwear and your dress underneath the table before slowly getting back up to your feet as well. Within minutes, Joel returns to your table and takes a seat down in the chair next to yours.

“Alright so, everything is set up and served for the customers, all you have to do is take the money they give you and put it in the cash box.” you tell him before turning around to leave, only to pause for a moment and looking back at him. “And don’t eat any of the pastries, alright?”

Your dad puts your hands up in defense. “Can’t make a promise ‘bout that, kiddo.”

You simply roll your eyes and playfully punch at his arm before pushing your chair in and leaving the table. Once your dad was out of sight, you began to walk a little faster, now rushing to get to the bathroom with Abby.

After roaming around the market for a bit, you successfully find the bathroom. You lean into the door for a moment and knock twice, hoping that you found the right one.

“It’s open,” Abby calls out from inside.

You twist the knob and open the door, just enough for you to squeeze yourself inside before closing it and turning the lock. You turn around to see Abby leaning against the vanity near the sink, arms crossed with that same stupid smirk on her face. “How’d you know it was me?” you ask her.

“Are you kidding me?” she says, taking her weight off of the vanity. “I can hear those boots of yours from miles away.”

You roll your eyes at her in response “You’re so unbelievable, you know that?” you tell her. “If my dad had lifted up that tablecloth, we would’ve been done for.”

The smirk on her face grows a little wider, and you can just visibly see it happening. “I was just trying to get a taste of something sweet, princess. That’s all I wanted.”

Her cockiness was seriously driving you over the edge right now. However, you still can’t help but get turned on by her when she acts like this.

Feeling that same sense of boldness come through you again, you take a step forward and grab her by the collar of her jacket, pulling her close to you. “Then how about you finish what you started?” you whisper out to her.

She leans in closer to you, both of your lips being just mere inches away from touching.

“Don’t mind if I do.” she whispers back to you.

You lean in to seal the gap, connecting your lips with hers in an intense kiss. Your hands remain tightly gripped on her jacket, while Abby’s hands run down your body, stopping at your hips. She then turns you around to where your back is now pressed against the marble counter.

Her lips pull away from yours for a moment to flip you around, now with your back facing her chest.

“What—What are you doing?” you ask her, trying to turn around to get a look at her.

“You said you wanted me to fuck you right, didn’t you?” she says, taking off her jacket and rolling up the long sleeves of the dark green shirt she had on. “Well, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Abby grabs your hips and bends you over on the counter before lifting your dress up and pushing your panties to the side again, revealing your wet pussy to her. “Jesus, she looks even wetter than before.” she mutters to herself as she gently rubs her thumb on your slit, eliciting a whine from you in response.

Abby moves her hand to herself to unbuckle her tool belt, letting it fall to the ground. She then unzips her cargo pants, pulling out the thick strap she had tucked underneath her boxers before teasing the tip of it in between your puffy folds.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp out, your pussy already starting to clench around nothing. “You brought it, didn’t you?”

Abby lets out a scoff, looking back at you through the mirror. “Of course I did. Been dying to fill this sweet pussy up ever since I first came over to your place.”

You then feel her grab ahold of the strap with one hand and position it against your entrance before slowly pushing the tip in, quietly moaning to herself as she watches your pussy engulf the tip.

A whimper escapes from your mouth as she pushes a few more inches of her cock in you, now reaching halfway. “Oh god, Abby…I-I think it's too big—“

Her other hand grabs a hold of your neck, pulling you up towards her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” she says into your ear. “Is my cock too big for you? Can you not take it like a big girl?”

“N-No— I mean yes, fuck! I-I can take it, Abs…”

“That’s what I thought.” she mutters back to you, setting you back down on the marble counter as she pushes the rest of her cock inside you without warning.

She keeps her strap nestled inside you for what feels like ages, waiting for your pussy to accommodate itself to the girth of her cock. She tries to move back a bit, but your cunt keeps resisting the toy, sucking it back in.

Abby grunts in frustration and slaps your ass, the sudden sting causing you to flinch a bit. “Quit doing that. I’m not gonna be able to fuck you right if you don’t relax that cunt already.”

“F-Fuck, Abby, m’trying to, please—“

“Jesus, must I do everything myself?” she replies, reaching around your waist to rub your throbbing clit, causing you to moan in pleasure at the stimulation. Abby leans back a bit as she continues rubbing your clit, watching as your pussy visibly relaxes around her cock, now giving her the freedom to move it in and out slowly.

“There we go, just like that now, atta girl…”

Abby begins to fuck you at a painfully slow pace at first, slow to the point where you were now pushing your hips back against her as an indication for her to go faster.

“Whoa there…desperate for more now, aren’t we princess?” she says, instantly speeding up her pace. “If you wanted me to go faster, you could have just asked.”

“I-I know b-but…f-feels too good…” you slur out to her, face pressed against the cold marble as the rest of your body moves up and down with her thrusts.

“Oh, who am I kidding? You’re so drunk on my cock that you can’t even form a coherent sentence right now. Fucking slut…”

Moments later, Abby was now fucking you relentlessly fast to the point where you had to grip the counter to steady yourself. You seriously felt like you could fall off, but honestly, you could also care less about it. You were so close to reaching your peak now, and as long as Abby didn’t stop, you’d be perfectly fine.

That is until…a knock on the door interrupts the both of you.

“Occupied!” Abby calls out from inside, not stopping her pace.

“Abby? Are you in there?”

“Dad?!”

You gasp at the sound of Jerry’s voice, and Abby shushes you and quickly covers your mouth, now slowing down her pace. You whine at the sudden lack of movement, now feeling your orgasm fade away.

“Abby, what’s going on? Someone told me they saw you walk in here. Are you okay?” her dad asks with some concern.

“Y-Yeah Dad, I’m fine, I just—“ Abby stammers out for a moment as she then turns on the sink with her other hand, trying to come up with an excuse on the spot. “S-Someone dropped a cupcake on me. I-I'm trying to wash it out.”

You giggle quietly behind Abby’s hand, only for her to shush you and grab your ass harshly with the other, causing you to wince at the slight pain.

“Alright honey, just come back when you’re done, okay?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’ll be out in a bit!”

Once the sound of Jerry’s footsteps is gone, Abby lets out a sigh of relief, turning off the sink before removing her hand from your mouth.

“Almost got me caught there, princess.” she says to you, now speeding up her thrusts again. “If you pull that again, I might not let you cum at all.”

“No, fuck—please Abby, I-I’m getting close…I need you to let me cum.” you whine out to her, tightening your grip on the marble counter.

“Oh yeah? Are you getting close there, baby?” she asks, to which you nod in response.

Without stopping her thrusts, Abby grabs you by the neck with one hand, lifting your upper body up in front of the mirror so you can see her as well as yourself. “Then I want you to watch yourself cum. Watch yourself cum on my cock like the needy slut you are.”

You try your best to move or look away, but Abby simply moves your face back to the mirror with her hand. “Don’t fucking do that again. Look away one more time and I’ll pull out.”

All you could do was whine and nod in response, keeping your gaze on the mirror. Your eyes then trail down to the bottom where Abby was fucking you. You could just see her cock sliding in and out of your pussy so easily, and just the sight of it alone is making you want to cum even more.

“Oh fuck, Abby—m-gonna…m’gonna cum!” you exclaim out to her, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the tip of her strap keeps touching your g spot.

“G-go ahead, princess, cum on my cock like a good girl.” she grunts out, moving her hand to now cover your mouth.

Within seconds you cum undone onto the strap with a muffled moan, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as your cunt clenches and creams all over it. Your body quickly goes limp and static fills your brain as you try to catch your breath.

Abby then gently sets you back down on the counter before moving both of her hands down to your hips. She then slowly pulls her cock out of your pussy, causing you to whine at the loss of it.

Despite that your legs are trembling, you try to get up, but Abby keeps you down. “Wait, just give me a second…I still have one more thing left to do.” she tells you, and all you do is just nod in response, still feeling insanely drunk from your orgasm.

Abby quickly drops down to her knees and spreads your ass open, groaning at the sight of your fucked out pussy. Without hesitation, she dives into your pussy to lick you clean, taking in every single bit of your thick release into her mouth. Once she was finished, she got back up on her feet. “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” she murmurs to herself, wiping her mouth with her thumb before sucking it clean, making sure she’s got every bit of you on her tongue.

Once you’ve recovered from your orgasm, Abby helps you off of the counter, fixing up your underwear and dress before turning you back around to face her. “Do you think you could uh, clean me up there?” she says before looking down and back up at you, indicating for you to clean up her strap.

“Don’t mind if I do,” you tell her with a smirk, getting down on your knees to suck onto her strap, tasting yourself in the process.

Abby lets out a groan as she watches you suck her strap clean. “Fuck, you look so good like this…” she mutters out to you, running a hand through your hair. “I should make you do that more often.”

You remove your mouth from her strap with a ‘pop’ sound and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before standing up to face her. “I wouldn’t mind doing that for you.” you reply to her, leaning in to give her a quick kiss as she tucks her strap back into her pants.

“So um, should you leave first or—“

“You should go first,” you tell her, cutting off her sentence. “You’ve been gone longer. Don’t wanna keep your dad waiting anymore now.”

Abby nods in agreement, reaching down to grab her tool belt and jacket before getting back up to kiss you goodbye. “I’ll see you around, sweet girl.” she tells you before unlocking the knob and opening the door to let herself out of the bathroom, now leaving you on your own.

You wait inside for a few minutes before shutting off the lights and leaving, quickly making your way back to your table. To your surprise, you return to see your dad standing with a slice of flan in his hands. “Dad…I told you not to eat any of the pastries!”

Your dad sets the plate down and holds up his in defense. “Alright, sweetheart, you got me there.” he says in defeat before reaching out his front pocket and pulling out a five-dollar bill. “Here’s my contribution then.” he says as he hands you the five-dollar bill.

“Okay okay,” you tell him as you grab the bill from his hands. “I’ve got it from here now, Dad, thanks.”

Once you settle back into your seat, you notice your phone buzzing on the table with a text. You pick up your phone and see that the message is from Abby.

“Abby: Wild Randy’s next Saturday?”

You smile to yourself upon reading the text before looking up at her from across the room, seeing her with that same smirk on her face once again. You look back down at your phone and type out your response.

“You: I’ll be there.”

Looks like you’ve got some plans next weekend after all.

- a/n: oh lord this one killed me to write omg. i hope y’all liked it though! let me know if i should do a part 4 (i might tbh)

merry christmas again everyone! wishing you all the best 🤍🎄

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2023 © atomicami | all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.

[vaguely-concerned]

To the ‘themes I am picking up on in Veilguard’ list, let's go ahead and add what I have a sneaking suspicion will actually turn out to be The theme:

— the world has changed and can never be as it was again.

— I have been changed and can never be who I was again.

— in this simple unavoidable truth there is endless grief and endless hope.

And I… may be getting a bit emotional about it haha. Let me show my work a bit: 

if da:o is a game about people who are already dead or half ghosts in some form (through societal forces, psychologically, functionally, literally, in body, through the joining etc.) coming together anyway to save the world from being swallowed by total nihilism and despair (symbolized by the blight) through the power of love and friendship and also this sword/potential heroic sacrifice that I found, da2 is a game about people who have lost their homes and been set adrift finding and building new homes in each other (while completely failing to save the world. also through the power of love and friendship. as well as years of petty bickering <3 we must imagine kirkwall if not happy then worth having been because the love was there the love was there and that's the only sanctifying force we can ever have in this doomed world and city of ours), and da:i is a game about old stabilizing-but-unjust comfortable lies vs. disruptive but potentially liberating uncomfortable truths, and the power of friendship to help us distinguish the one from the other and navigate through them...

folks… I'm starting to think that veilguard might be a game specifically about moving towards recovery and acceptance after trauma — about how even in this flawed, severed, scarred state, what is here right now is worth loving and worth caring for. even in an imperfect and impermanent world and self, there is worth and joy. and of course the first real tragedy — and threat — of Solas is that he just cannot find it in himself to accept this and move on, to let go of what was, the regret won’t let him go or he won’t let go of it. which means that even though on the surface it’s Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain (and the will to subjugate and violate they represent) who are the main villains, the real antagonistic force in this story beneath that is the Dread Wolf’s despair. A despair Rook must make an answer to by the end of the game, one way or another, compassionately or with righteous fury, triumphant or pyrrhic.

The world will change again and again and so will you — BUT the crucial element is that so will everyone else who exists along with you, you are fundamentally not alone in this existential truth. all we’ll ever have is each other and my god that is plenty, my god that is enough!!! Which is the second thing Solas just can’t accept, he keeps himself separate and completely alone out of an awful mix of fear and pride and feeling himself unworthy of anything else. Rook and the player want to save the world of Thedas because it’s where everyone we love lives, Solas wants to go back to the past because that’s the only neighbourhood where he can still visit those he loved — and the person he himself was, before. A very sympathetic and human instinct/trap to fall into when touched by trauma, I think, if only it wasn’t backed by godlike power, a fundamentally oppositional personality, and a catastrophic lack of therapy to make it literally everyone else’s problem too lol. It’s varric and solas’ banter about the man on the island and where meaning in a life comes from all over again, writ large and with detail work — and the added idea of ‘what if there are also other islands out there, though. With other people on them that you could find if you reach for each other’. Rook with the best of intentions has to make choices to which there are no perfect outcomes and live with what happens — and not cut themselves off from everyone else around them even when there is regret or shame. You get back up every day and you make a life with other people doing the same and you do your best, and that’s the only victory this world will give you. In the end, that is more than enough, that is essential. And I um. I love that. So much. It’s why some of the writing clumsiness on top can’t hurt me because this thematic spine is so solid and so beautiful to me. It’s DA2 all over again that way for me personally — I forgive this story for what it isn’t and couldn’t be, and I love it with my whole stupid open heart for what it actually is. Thank you for coming to my TED-talk and goodbye etc.      

(For my fellow TLT heads out there — you know what this story is reminding me of most of all, actually? It has some big Nona the Ninth vibes down there in the deep. It’s about… the horror and unspeakable beauty that can only be found in liminality, and the role of love in making that basic fact of existence bearable. And also even more unbearable at the same time. I'm so sorry.)

[theformulaimagines]

Look at that woman (breaking my heart) | part one

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Vettel!Reader

Summary: For one and a half years Lewis and y/n managed to keep their relationship a secret, until it blew up in their faces. Now, they're trying their hardest to pick up the pieces...

Warnings: age gap (reader is 27), heat!!!!, other drivers are mentioned, tiny bit of angst, english isn’t my first language

Prologue

That night…

“As much as I absolutely adore you guys.”, Y/N says as she joins the group, her lips connecting with her champagne glass:” This party is super boring.” The men all look at her, while some eyes make their way up and down her body. One pair more often than the others.

“Well, I don’t think it’s that-.”, poor Lando gets cut off almost immediately. “I know that this is your first party, considering how they didn’t host them during Covid, however, believe me- back in the good old days these summer parties were the main event of the year for us.”

“Don’t say it like that.”, Lewis scoffs softly, furrowing his eyebrows in distress:” ‘Good old days’, please. Don’t make it sound like we’re in our sixties now.” George giggles.

“Anyway, Lando. When my brother was an active driver, we used to steal a bunch of champagne bottles and hide out in the Ferrari garage.” Her eyes shift back to Lewis, and she stares at him for a moment:” Don’t make that face.”

“What face? I’m not making a face.”, he blinks in confusion. Y/N shakes her head while holding her index finger up at him: “Don’t act like you weren’t the main burglar back then. Sneaking behind the bar and just handing those bottles over to me like your life depended on it.” At that, all the other drivers in the group laugh out loud. “That was the old, alcoholic me.”, Lewis explains, his eyes scanning her features- almost as if he���s searching for something he can’t quite put the finger on.

“Well, what’s stopping us from doing that again?”

“Wait what?”, Charles asks and exchanges looks with the men around him:” Are you implying we-.” “Bingo.”, she takes another sip of her drink. There’s just something about the way Lewis looks at her side profile that makes her knees weak…he has been staring a lot lately. After a few seconds, Lando is the first one to react, he nods almost violently:” Okay, well- I mean, why not? Could be fun! Lewis and Y/N, you go get the bottles, and the rest of us-? I don’t know. We just distract the others?”

Lewis nods:” Well, yeah. Sure.” He chuckles as he notices the smile emerging on his best friend’s face and the woman quickly sets her glass down on the closest table :” We’ll meet you guys at the exit in five.”

Y/N can sense his presence close behind her. She doesn’t have to turn around to check. His brown eyes are moving down her backless dress and he subconsciously wets his lips at the scenery in front of him. “What’s so funny?“, he asks, as if he knew she was silently giggling to herself.

“Oh, nothing.”, Y/N replies as they reach the bar. The y/h/ced woman quickly leans over and grabs two bottles before shoving them into his hands. Then she takes two more. “You’re still good at this, aren’t you?”, he asks, voice low. “Only when it comes to expensive things. Now, let’s hurry.”

landonorris has made a post

liked by y/nvettel, mclaren, f1 and 378,500 others

landonorris: first f1 summer party- many more to come 🥂🥂

view all comments…

user 1: 😍😍

user 2: hes so fine GOD

y/nvettel: cheers 🙂‍↕️🥂

user 3: my favorite 🤩

user 4: is it true that y/n and lewis left together

user 5: please you guys are starting to sound ridiculous they’ve been friends since forever

user 6: @/user 5 thank you!!! plus friends don’t date their friends younger siblings

user 7: @/user 6 yeah they do

mercedesamgf1: that garage sign looks familiar 👀

“I think we should head out.”, Lando lets out and yawns, pointing at the clock on the wall. 03:56 am. A soft sigh leaves Y/N's lips while she eyes how the men all get up from their spots on the floor.

“Wait, you’re all leaving?”, she asks, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “I don’t think Lewis is.”, Charles says and cracks his neck. Y/N turns her head to look at her best friend who merely shakes his head.

“Well, okay. Yeah, sleep tight you guys.”

A silence falls on the garage, as the sounds of the voices and footsteps gradually fade away. “I like your outfit, by the way.”, she suddenly declares, cringing as soon as those words leave her lips. She doesn’t understand why she’s becoming so nervous around Lewis- it’s only Lewis, right?

He chuckles:” Thanks. It’s the new collection.” Y/N's gaze falls to the glass in her hands.

“You look stunning.”, he whispers, and when their eyes meet again Y/N suddenly understands why she has been feeling so strange around him recently. “This is going to sound creepy.”, she clears her dry throat:” But I’ve read your latest Vogue interview, where you said-.”

“I like black dresses.”, he cuts her off, eyes once again roaming her body:” You’re trying to impress me?” He knows the answer already. “Well, what kind of impression are you trying to make?”

The younger woman chuckles softly:” A good one.”

“And you were successful. You look unbelievable.”

There’s a line. And they both know it.

Y/N takes another sip of her drink while peeking out of the garage door and into the night sky. She shouldn’t be doing this, she really shouldn’t. Instead, she should be getting up and leaving. Walk away before she does something extremely stupid.

“Can I ask you something?”, Lewis tilts his head. “Of course, yeah. Always.”, Y/N tears her gaze off the stars and looks back at one of her brother’s oldest friends. She should leave.

“What’s your end goal here?”

”I think we both know what my end goal is.”

[breakmeoff]

The Boy Next Door │1

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

warnings: none I don’t think… angst?

word count: 5.3k

synopsis: you babysat him when he was 7 years old, and he’s had a crush on you since you met, despite the 8 year age gap.  between moves to other places and time, it’s been 14 years since you’ve seen each other even though your dads are still best friends, still live next door to each other, and keep up to date about each other's family.  you surprise chris at one of the skz shows, and he’s shocked to see you, and even more surprised that he still has a massive crush on you.  if only he could convince you to look at him in any other way than the boy next door.

note: so this is my first fic ever and this could be total garbage so please be gentle.  ages, timelines and relationships are adjusted for story purposes and this is all a work of fiction.  thank you for reading!

Part 2 │ Part 3

ONE WEEK AGO

“Happy Birthday, Squirt” you said with a mischievous smile, handing your 14 year old half-sister a bright pink envelope.  The living room was hideously shrouded with obnoxious decorations, and crowded with what seemed like a hundred teens, your dad, and your step-monstermother.  

Mia barely acknowledged you when you handed her her gift, engrossed in gossiping with her friends nearby.  Between the loud music and deafening teens, the volume in the room was enough to make you wish you’d brought earplugs.

The moment Mia opened her gift from you though, she immediately froze, speechless, eyes nearly bulging out of her head and she held her breath.  After a few seconds of silence from her, you furrowed your brows in question with a confused look on your face until… “OH MY GOD, STRAY KIDS TICKETS?!”  The high pitched shriek that followed caused the adults to wince, and the other kids in the room to crowd Mia immediately in pure envy.

Barely audible over the chaos, you squeaked out “yeah, we’re flying to Japan next week to see them.  Oh, and there’s backstage passes in there too.”  

You glanced over to your dad who was just smirking over the drink in his hand and shook his head.  With a subtle wave of his arm, he motioned you over to the side of the room away from the mayhem.  

You came up beside him, rested your head on his shoulder and took a sip of the drink in your hand.  “Well, I guess she liked it.”  You paused before sighing out, “...this is a terrible idea isn’t it?” 

“Yep,” was all he replied with a quick kiss to the top of your head.  “Better you than me.  Did you tell the Bahngs that you were going to do this?”

“No, I don’t want to bother them or be another person hounding them for access to Chris.  I figure it could be kind of fun to surprise him too when we get to go backstage.”  Standing back up straight and leaning against the wall behind you, you exhaled in realization.  

“Geez, it’s been what… almost 14 years since I’ve seen him?  I’m sure he won’t even remember who I am,” you said with a nervous laugh.

“Ohhh we both know that’s not true, that kid had the biggest crush on you growing up,” your dad said, glancing over at you beside him.  You scoffed, “pretty sure he had a crush on anything with boobs at that age.”  

Of course, this was the moment your step-mom decided to eavesdrop on your conversation.  “Y/N!  Language.”  Rolling your eyes, you took another sip of your drink.

The next thing you overheard was Mia downplaying the tickets, bragging to her friends “oh it’s really not that big of a deal, Chan is basically my oppa.  I go to their house all of the time.”  With a flick of her hair, the other girls in the room were gasping with jealousy and fangirling so hard you couldn’t help but drag a hand down your face.

----------------------------------------- 17 YEARS AGO

After several weeks of inadvertently doing yardwork at the same time, and a few heated discussions over the pros and cons of planting winter grass, your father quickly befriended your next door neighbor, Jack, and his young family.  Your mother and Jack’s wife, Jessica, became fast friends and bonded over emigrating from South Korea to Sydney, and how difficult it was to find decent hotteok anywhere.  More than anything, Jessica was thrilled to find out that your mother had a responsible, teenage daughter who could babysit.  

You were, not surprisingly, unhappy when your mom burst into your bedroom one morning and voluntold you that you’d be babysitting the three new kids next door; Christopher (7), Hannah (4) and Lucas (2 ½).  

At 15, and much happier curling up in your room alone with your headphones on, you would rather have been hung upside down by your toenails than spend your precious free time watching some snotty nosed kids.  

That was…  until you found out how much Mrs. Bahng was willing to pay for a few hours of reprieve every other weekend.  

Sure, at first it was definitely about the money, but over the next few years you actually became fond of the 3 Bahng kids, and genuinely started to enjoy spending time with them. 

Growing up an only child, you had always held a quiet jealousy of those who had a bigger family.  Now you could almost pretend that they were your own siblings; bickering and relentlessly teasing each other.

However, shortly after your 18th birthday you received your acceptance letter from The University of Melbourne and priorities began to shift.  At the end of the summer post graduation, and a ton of tearful goodbyes later, you packed up your life and moved to Melbourne, 9+ hours from everyone you loved.  

For the first few years, you still came back home to Sydney for holidays and extended breaks, but the longer you were away, the more immersed you became in your studies and were setting down roots, building your new life.

During your sophomore year at UoM, your parents separated and quickly divorced, recognizing they had nothing in common except their adoration for you, and you had proved you no longer needed them as much as they needed you.  A few months later, your mother moved to Melbourne to be closer, but your father stayed in the house next door to the Bahng’s.  

While your mom showed no interest in remarrying, it didn’t take long for your father to meet the “true love of his life,” a woman 15 years his junior.  Less than six months into their marriage, your half-sister Mia was born, not even a full 24 hours before your 21st birthday.  Your relationship with your dad always remained strong, but your birthdays slowly got overshadowed by the new addition to the family.

Five years after your move to Melbourne, you graduated with your Masters of Biomedical Sciences, and got a job working at a nearby hospital in their research department. Since then you’ve earned your tenure at the same hospital, managing a small group of researchers, and making more money than you ever anticipated.  

----------------------------------------- EARLIER TODAY

You and Mia had settled into your hotel room and were getting ready for, what she was declaring would be, the concert of the century.  Despite the significant age gap between you, and the distance of where you both lived, you had always made an effort to stay a part of Mia’s life and establish a solid relationship with her.  Her teenage energy was exhausting, but seeing the unadulterated excitement on her face was worth it. 

“I cannot believe I let you pick out my clothes...” you mumbled, looking at yourself in the mirror, wearing the new pieces that you let her select during your shopping spree earlier that day; a black mini skirt, a white tank top, tattered mesh leggings, platform black mary janes, and chunky black jewelry. You felt so uncomfortable, not because the outfit wasn't cute, but because it was so far from your normal style.

“We had to make sure your fit was snatched for when we see Channie later!,” Mia replied while putting on her shoes.

Glancing over your shoulder at your little sister you smirked and replied “Oh, no cap?  Bet.”  

Mia groaned loudly and threw herself down on the bed.  “Oh my god I HAAAAATE when you try to talk Gen A with me.”

You walked over and grabbed a pillow, lightly hitting your sister with it, torturing her even more as you continued to talk.  “What, I’m just trying to be a baddie GOAT that slaps for you!  I’m gonna be mewing and wiggling my gyatt all over the place, flexin’ my rizz all night!”  

Mia grabbed the pillow from you and screamed playfully into it before pulling it away and laughing up at you with a big smile.  “You are literally the worst.”  

“Yep, and you’re stuck with me.”  You smiled, helping her up from the bed and walked arm in arm together out of the room, ready to let your night begin. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Two hours later, you found yourself in a group of roughly 30 others being guided backstage to a green room for the meet and greet with the boys from SKZ.   Once settled in the room, Mia’s eyes were glued to the door, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet, just waiting to see her favorite idol again.  

As soon as the group walked into the room, Mia bolted straight for Chris, screaming “CHANNIE!!!!!” and flung herself at him before he could barely register what was going on.  

With a quick glance down to the crazed fan clinging to him, Chris instantly recognized the younger girl and wrapped his arms around her in a tight bear hug.  “Mimi!  My favorite Stay!  What are you doing here?  There’s no way your Appa brought you here,” he said with a chuckle, looking up for the familiar faces of her parents.  

Mia pulled back just slightly, still not letting go of his waist, looking up at him with a huge smile on her face.  “No, Y/N brought me!  She got me tickets for my birthday and we wanted to surprise you!”  

Blushing deeply at her little sister’s over the top reactions, you walked over to the two of them and sheepishly waved your hand in greeting as you made eye contact with Chris for the first time in over a decade.  “Surprise…?,” you laughed nervously.

Chris blinked at you a few times, trying to wrap his brain around who was actually standing in front of him, and slowly let go of Mia.  “Noona?”  He asked incredulously, closing the distance between the two of you to pull you into a tight hug.  

“Oh, ooof,” you said as he almost knocked the wind out of you, gingerly wrapping your arms around him in return.  “Hey there… long time no see.”

By this point, most of the people in the room were looking at you all with quizzical looks on their faces.  Fans were staring, jealous of the way that you were getting to touch the idol.  The other SKZ members were glancing in question, wondering who Chan was talking to so familiarly and making him smile like that.

Ever the skeptic, Lee Know strolled over to the trio with a raised eyebrow, “Hyung… what’s going on over here?”  Finally dropping his arms from you, Chris glanced between his bandmate with a light blush on his cheeks, and looked back to you before speaking.  “This is my old babysitter, Y/N.”  

Lee Know opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get the words out Mia chimed in, walking right up to him and giving him an overzealous hug, “and I’m his favorite Stay, Mia!”  

After studying them for a minute, Minho finally spoke with a tight lipped smile “it’s nice to meet you both,” he paused before looking back to you, “...please tell me you have embarrassing stories about him peeing his pants.  I beg of you, anything humiliating I can hold over him.”  

You laughed a little bit, and Chris quickly looked at you with a pleading look in his eyes.  “Please, please don’t…” he warned with a nervous laugh.  Looking back at Minho, you smirked playfully, “for the right price I am sure I can come up with something.”

A minute later, Lee Know looked over to Mia again, “do you want to come meet the other members?”  With a quick gasp, she nodded her head emphatically and said “YES!” before he led her away from you and Chan.

Now standing alone, you looked back up to Chris, lifting a hand to lightly tug at the fabric of his tank top.  “What, stylists can’t afford to put you in something with sleeves?”  Looking down at your hand that grazed his torso and back to your face, he chuckled lightly.  “Yeah, budget cuts.”  

After a beat, he motioned over to you.  “But… look at you!”

Glancing down at yourself with a sigh, you jokingly shook your head back and forth, “yeah, I know, pathetic trying to dress like someone 20 years younger.  I told Mia this was a bad idea,” you laughed lightly meeting his eyes again.

Chris simply shook his head, “no, I was just going to say you haven’t aged.  You look the exact same as you did when I last saw you.  Just… more mature.”

You smirked, lightly hitting his arm with the back of your hand, totally unsure of how to handle this interaction.  “It’s ok, you can call me old, I accept it.”  

With another chuckle, he smiled brightly at you and with a teasing wink added “you don’t look a day over 25.”

Rolling your eyes, you took another breath and were about to speak again before Chris’ manager walked over to him.  “15 minutes until show time.”  He nodded his head to the staff member before looking back over at you.

“I gotta go get ready but I’d love to catch up with you after the show?  Where are you staying?”  

Not wanting to bother him and his busy schedule, you shook your head “no, seriously you’re busy, it’s fine.  Maybe we can see each other when you’re back in Sydney next time.”

Chris grabbed your hand to emphasize his point, “no seriously, I have time later tonight and it’s been way too long.”  You nervously looked down at your hand clasped in his, which caused him to look down at them and quickly let go awkwardly.  Glancing back up at his face, you peered over to Mia laughing with Han while showing him something on her phone.  

With another breath, you looked back at Chris and told him where you were staying.  “If you aren’t exhausted and really do want to come by, there’s a bar down in the lobby where we can go get a drink after Mia’s settled in the room.”

Chris smiled again and exhaled a sigh of relief he didn’t realize he was holding.  “Yeah, that sounds good.  I’ll see you after… I hope you enjoy the show!”  Giving you one more quick hug, he went over to Mia who fiercely hugged him again, and begged for a quick selfie before the boys left the room.

Mia wandered back over to you as the band waved their goodbyes and thanked their fans, and excitedly grabbed your hand to pull you out of the green room.  “Let’s goooooooo!!! I wanna get to our seats and you have to buy me another SKZOO plush before the concert starts.  I think Han is my new favorite and I don’t have Quokka yet!”  

As you and Mia walked the opposite direction from the stage, Chris looked over his shoulder and watched the two of you disappear.  He’d meant it when he said that you hadn’t changed since he last saw you.  Well, maybe you had changed just a little.  He didn’t remember you being that beautiful before.

Minho followed his hyung’s eyes before looking back to his face, absently fiddling with his mic pack.  “Someone’s got a new crush on their Noona,” he said with a knowing smirk.  Chris glared over at him, defensively muttering “...do not.” 

Truth be told, Chris’ crush was anything but new.

----------------------------------------- TONIGHT

Walking back into their hotel room after the concert of the century, Mia was on cloud nine, still dancing and singing “LaLaLaLa” at the top of her lungs while you trailed behind her quietly, trying to shush her.  “Shhhhhh… there are people sleeping next door!”  

Mia rolled her eyes, shrugged her shoulders and began humming to herself instead, still completely lost in her own world.

You on the other hand were still trying to comprehend what you had just witnessed.  Sure you’d seen clips of SKZ shows before and obviously listened to their music, but seeing it in person was a different story.  

“I still can’t believe they dance like that in public…” you mumbled, mostly to yourself before Mia chimed in again.  “Oh my god, right?  They’re soooo hot!!!”  You looked over your shoulder at your sister and deadpanned at her.  “Gross.  On that note I’m going to go shower.”

45 minutes later, you had washed the evening off of you and put on a pair of joggers and a simple tee, threw your hair into a messy top knot, and glanced at your phone, noting it was about time Chris said he’d be at their hotel.

Not wanting to overly excite Mia who was almost passed out in her bed, you told her you were going to go hang out in the lobby so she could sleep undisturbed, and to text you if she needed anything.  With a dismissive wave from the teen who buried herself under the comforter, you turned to walk out the door.

Once in the lobby, which was not surprisingly pretty empty for the time of evening, you glanced around seeing no sign of Chan and wandered to the bar.  Pulling out a stool at the completely vacant bartop, you perched yourself on it and began scanning the cocktail menu.  Just as you were about to order, you heard a familiar voice.  “There she is.”

Turning your head to the side, Chris’ handsome face and bright smile came into view as he walked straight up to you and gave you another hug.  Over his shoulder you could see his security team find a couch in the lobby to wait in; far enough to not hear any of their conversation but close enough should there be a risk of any kind.

After he let go of you, he pulled out the stool beside you and sat down, unable to take his eyes off of you or wipe the genuine grin from his face.  Focusing your eyes back to him, you let a smile spread over your features.  “You know, I should call your Eomma and tell her that her son was gyrating in front of thousands of people.”  Chris barked a laugh and said “oh trust me, she knows, and she hates it.”

Grabbing the drink menu from your hand, Chris began perusing the options and when the bartender came back over he waited for you to place your order before asking for his.  Once alone again, he lightly drummed his hands on the bartop with a smirk.  “So what did you really think?”

Keeping quiet for a moment with a skeptical look, you finally spoke again with a small shake of your head.  “You guys were really good, Chris.  Like.  I almost understand why people like you.  I mean, you should definitely advise parental discretion for younger viewers but,” you paused with a quiet laugh, “you guys are really talented.”

“Why do you sound so shocked?”  He playfully narrowed his eyes at you, challenging your statement.  “You can’t tell me that that was the first time you heard our music?”

“No, definitely not, but I don’t know, I assumed it was maybe auto-tuned?”  You admitted.  “I mean, everyone else is these days so I thought you were too!”

“Auto-tuned??  How DARE you…” Chris laughed in response.  “No, I mean, obviously we do, especially in songs with a lot of dancing.”  

“Right but I was talking about the ad libs and the acapella portions.  You have a really nice voice!” you insisted, looking him in the eyes in an attempt to show you meant what you were saying.

“I feel like I should be offended by how surprised you are, but I will just take the compliment and say thank you,” Chris said with another flash of his brilliant smile.

The bartender dropped off both of your drinks, but before turning away he sheepishly.  “Um, excuse me, Mr. Bahng… could I get your autograph for my girlfriend?  She’s a huge fan…”

Chris smirked and grabbed a cocktail napkin as the bartender handed him a pen.  “Definitely, just please don’t ever call me Mr. Bahng again,” he said with a laugh, scribbling his name as requested and handed both the pen and napkin back to the bartender who whispered a thank you and wandered off.

You quietly observed the whole interaction, slowly shaking your head and sighed out as Chris’ attention was directed back to you.  “This is so weird…” you mumbled, picking up your glass.  

“What is?”  He innocently questioned, lifting his own glass, watching you.  

“This.  You.  You’re famous.  And like an adult.  A whole human being now,” you said, gesturing towards him as you spoke.

Pausing in reply, Chris lifted his glass to cheers yours.  “To being adults?”  He offered with a laugh, to which you clinked your glass against his before taking a small sip.  “Sure, let’s go with that.”  

After that, the conversation began to flow more naturally as you caught up on the gossip with your families, the ongoing concert tour, your life in Melbourne, and old memories.  The two of you sat comfortably laughing and reminiscing with each other in the otherwise empty lobby bar, and as the bartender handed you both your third drinks, you began to feel more relaxed with your old friend again.

“So,” Chris paused, taking a small sip from his fresh cocktail, “tell me.  You still with that doctor that I heard about through the grapevine?”  With a deep sigh and roll of your eyes, you leaned against the back of the stool and shook your head.

“No, turns out he took the phrase having good bedside manner too close to heart.  With a few of the nurses that work in the hospital with us.”  Chris winced at that new information, just as you raised your glass as you were remembering.  ‘Oh!  And the new research assistant on my team.  I get to see her face every day still.”

With a dry laugh, Chris gave you an apologetic look and shook his head.  “Well, from what I heard he was kind of a dick anyway so you’re better off without him.”

“Yeah, suppose so.  Just a 6 year waste of time.”  You said taking another sip.  Looking back over to him, “what about you, huh?”

“What about me?”  Chris asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the question and an amused, guilty look on his face.  

“You, the idol.  Got anyone special back home?  Or many special someones?,” you asked teasingly.

“Ahhh, nope!  No special someone.”  He paused.  “Or someones for that matter.  Don’t really have much time between the tour and producing.  Kinda hard to maintain a relationship when I’m so busy.”  

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, “that makes sense I guess.  But c’mon, you’ve got to have had girls throwing themselves at you every day.  I’ve seen your arms, Sir.”

Chris laughed again, blushing a little bit at the mention of his muscled limbs.  “I mean, sure, the fans are great but I try to avoid doing anything with Stays.  Too messy.”  

You stared at him with a disbelieving look.  “You’re trying to tell me you’ve never taken a fan back to your room after a show?”

“Uhh…” he smirked, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish look on his face.  “...maybe once or twice.”  

“Knew it,” you said smugly, lightly hitting his arm with the back of your hand.  “You’re way too good looking to not have indulged yourself a time or two.”

“You think I’m good looking?”  Chris replied quickly, arching his eyebrow.

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” you said as you focused your gaze back on your drink.

Pausing, Chris took a deep breath before exhaling.  “I used to have the biggest crush on you,” he blurted out, feeling a bit more emboldened from the alcohol, looking directly at you.

“I know…” you replied playfully, quietly, meeting his gaze.

“Oh.  Was I really that obvious about it?”  

“I think it was the fact that you couldn’t look at me for about 6 months that gave you away.  That, and Hannah told me she caught you writing a Valentine’s Day card for me once.”  You giggled a little bit, watching his face turn a subtle shade of red.

“Remind me to kill her the next time I see her.”  He paused, unable to meet your eyes for a few moments.  “Can’t really blame me though… you were always so pretty.”

Scoffing and lifting your eyebrow at him, “Pretty?  I was a string bean with greasy hair, glasses too big for my face and absolutely no style.”

“It’s your smile, and the way that your eyes always sparkle.”  Now Chris was looking directly at you again, and you couldn’t help but notice the way he chose his words - no longer speaking in past tense.

With a light dusting of pink to your cheeks, you couldn’t help but smile, though making eye contact was becoming increasingly more difficult.  “Ahh…” you mumbled, not entirely sure how to reply.

At that moment, between the late hour and alcohol starting to cloud your mind, you caught yourself nearly forgetting that the man in front of you was no longer the little boy you used to babysit.  That tightness presenting itself in your chest usually only appeared when you were being flirted with.  Surely that’s not what was happening here… couldn’t be.

“Well I think that that’s pretty common, for boys to have crushes on their babysitters.  It’s like a right of passage or something,” you said dismissively.  “Totally normal and they always grow out of it.”

“Not always…” Chris admitted quietly.

“Haha, very funny.”  Leaning forward, you picked up your drink again, doing everything you could think of at that moment to ignore that uneasy feeling starting to spread through your body.

Just then, the bartender walked over and slid over the tab, alerting you both that the bar was closing.  “Oh shit, it’s past 2am…” Chris said after looking at the time on his phone and then over to his security team.  Turning his attention back to you “I didn’t realize how late it was, and I’ve got an early rehearsal in the morning.”

Shaking your head, you finished the last remnants of your drink.  “No, of course, I can’t believe that time slipped away like that.”  Chris grabbed his wallet and threw down more than enough cash for the tab and tip before standing and helping pull out your barstool.

“It’s been really good to see you, Y/N,” Chris admitted with a smile, boldly extending his hand out to run down your arm.  “Like, really good.”

Blushing yet again, you nodded and faced him.  “Yeah… I can’t believe how you’ve grown up.  I’m really proud of you,” you replied with an upturn in the corner of your lips.

“Fully grown now,” Chris confirmed, trying to emphasize to you that he was no longer a kid.

“So it seems…” you nod lightly, but Chris speaks again before you could continue.

“How long are you in town?  Can I see you again tomorrow?”  His eyes are intent, focusing on you.  

“Um… we are here for one more night.  But you’ve got another show and I am sure you’re busy..”

“No, I mean it.  Can I meet you back here tomorrow night after the concert?”  Chris is almost pleading with you by this point.

Something inside of you was warning you that this seemed like a bad idea.  You’d always loved Chris, but this was feeling very different and you hadn’t felt this nervous in way too long.  “I really don’t want to be a bother to you,” you attempted, trying to dissuade him from pushing.

“Is your phone number still the same?  I’ll call you when I’m free tomorrow to see?”  You could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t going to let this go.

With a sigh, you nodded your head in defeat.  “Yeah, it’s the same.  We can play it by ear.”

Finally he dropped his shoulders and a smile crept back up his face.  “Great.  Let me at least walk you to the elevator.”  

“Always so chivalrous,” you teased, taking a step forward towards the hallway.  As you began to move away, Chris’ hand lightly landed on the small of your back.  The small gesture caused your breath to catch, the feeling way more intimate than it should be.

Once you made it to the double doors, Chris dropped his hand finally and reached out to push the button to call the elevator before turning back to fully face you.  “I’m so glad that you and Mia came to the show.  It was a really nice surprise.  Especially after all this time.”

At this point you were hyper aware of how close he was standing to you, and internally you were trying not to overanalyze his every move.  He was just being polite.

“Yeah, totally worth it.  I can’t wait to go back to work next week and brag to the interns about the fact that I had drinks with the leader of Stray Kids,” you said with a smirk, trying to diffuse the situation.  Poorly.

Hearing the elevator ding with its arrival, you glanced over to it before looking back at Chris.  “Thank you again for meeting me tonight.”  He murmured as he began to lean in for a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly.  

Hesitantly, you lifted your own and placed your arms around his shoulders, dropping one hand to his back, where you couldn’t help but feel the defined muscle beneath it.  From where you were standing, it was impossible not to truly notice how powerful his body had become; no longer scrawny and unsure, but strong and confident.

“Of course,” you mumbled back in response, moving your hands over his shoulders and down his arms, leaning back a little bit, trying to gain some distance between the two of you.  Looking back up to his face, you were about to say goodnight when…

Chris took a deep breath and whispered “fuck it,” mostly to himself, before he quickly leaned back in and pressed his lips against yours.  It was chaste, and soft, and shocking.

Lifting both of your eyebrows in surprise, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders and pushed him back a little bit, “whoa there…” you said quietly, looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, struggling to make eye contact again.  “I’ve just wanted to do that since I was 8 years old,” he laughed quietly, moving his hand to rub the back of his neck.

Dropping your left hand, the right one trailed down his arm to his hand.  Giving it a reassuring squeeze, he lifted his head to look at you with a sheepish grin on his face.  “Glad you got that off your chest, and now you can move on past that silly crush,” you laughed, trying to diffuse the awkward moment.

The elevator doors began to close again, and you quickly stepped forward, sticking your arm out to get the motion sensor to reopen them.  Looking back to Chris, you gave another weak smile and stepped into the elevator, forcing the distance between you again.  “Goodnight Chris, and thanks for the drinks.”  

He nodded his head in reply, quietly mumbling “yeah, goodnight” giving a light wave of his hand before the doors closed, forcing physical separation between the two of you.

Chris stayed there for a moment, shifting his gaze to the floor, his mind beginning to run circles.  While you tried to make light of his crush, he knew for certain that it was not going to go away that easily.

Turning back to his security detail and towards the front door, Chris made a decision right then and there that he was more determined than ever to prove to you that he was no longer the boy next door.

Part 2 │ Part 3