#two people are sitting on the sides of the bed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mapis-putellas · 2 days ago

Text

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

Okay, so I have no idea how many words this is, but it’s super freaking long and I had to stop here before I went too crazy. I think the ending is perfect, but I can do a part 2 if enough of you guys want it. Enjoy <3

The flat felt emptier than usual, though Alexia's familiar presence still lingered in the small things. The scent of her perfume on the throw blanket draped over the couch, the mug she always used sitting on the counter, the neatly folded laundry on the chair that you hadn't yet put away. But these reminders weren't enough anymore. They only made the emptiness sharper, the silence heavier.

You sighed as you sat on the edge of the couch, scrolling through your phone without really looking at the screen. Alexia wouldn't be home for another few hours—some team meeting or another. The time alone had become routine, almost expected. She'd walk in, tired, offer you a quiet smile, and head straight for the shower. Then you'd both go to bed, lying on opposite sides, separated by an invisible wall that neither of you seemed willing to breach.

It wasn't always like this. Once, not so long ago, the flat had been filled with laughter and warmth. You remembered how Alexia used to pull you into her arms the moment she walked through the door, murmuring sweet words in Spanish as she peppered soft kisses to any part of your face she could reach. How you'd both stay up late talking, sharing dreams and fears like you were the only two people in the world.

But those moments felt distant now, like they belonged to another version of you—of what you used to be.

When Arsenal had reached out with an offer, you hadn't hesitated to listen. The idea of leaving Barcelona, of leaving Alexia, should've filled you with dread, but it didn't. Instead, it felt like relief. A chance to escape the slow unraveling of your relationship before it completely came apart and hurt you both beyond repair in the process.

You weren't sure if Alexia would fight to keep you here, and that uncertainty hurt more than you cared to admit.

The sound of keys in the lock broke through your thoughts. You looked up as Alexia stepped inside, her hair tied back in a low bun, a tired but polite smile on her lips. She looked beautiful, as always, but there was a hesitance in her movements, like she wasn't sure how to approach you anymore.

"Hola," she said softly, setting her bag down by the door, kicking off her shoes that land on the carpeted floor with a soft thud.

"Hi," you replied, forcing a smile that you knew didn't reach your eyes.

She hesitated for a moment, like she wanted to say something, but instead she simply nodded in acknowledgment and headed toward the bathroom. The sound of the shower running filled the silence, and you sank back against the couch, the weight of everything pressing down on you. You made your way to bed eventually, and you found Alexia already asleep, curled up at the very edge of the bed. You stared at her for a second, swallowing the tightness in your throat as you climbed in next to her and tugged the blankets up to your waist.

You laid on your side, hand instinctively reaching out to touch her, but it fell short, simply skimming the material of her T-shirt. One of her own. Not yours like it once had been. A single tear fell then, tickling your skin as it glided down your cheek. After a second, you turned to face away from her, the distance between you both feeling bigger than ever.

The next morning, Alexia was already gone when you woke up. A note on the counter told you she had an early training session. You stared at her neat handwriting for a moment, the words blurring slightly as tears pricked at your eyes.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to wake you up with soft touches and kisses, coaxing you into the shower whilst she cooked breakfast so you could both head to training together. Just like you used to do.

You decided to call in sick to training, and unlike she would have done before, Alexia doesn't call to check in; to ask where you were or if you were okay. It only made your decision all the more clear. You spend the day mulling over it, replaying the offer from Arsenal in your mind. It wasn't just about the opportunity to play for a new team, not anymore. It was about starting over. Finding yourself again.

By the time Alexia came home that evening, you had made up your mind.

"Can we talk?" you asked as she walked into the living room.

Her brows furrowed slightly, but she nodded, sitting down on the couch next to you.

You hesitated as you turned to face her, your hands twisting nervously in your lap. "Arsenal made me an offer," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia's eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she didn't say anything. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. "You... you are leaving?"

"I haven't decided yet," you admitted, though the words felt like a lie.

Her gaze dropped to her hands, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "Why?"

"Alexia..." You sighed, struggling to find the right words. "Things between us, they're not the same anymore. We're not the same anymore."

She looked up at you, her brown eyes filled with something you couldn't quite place—hurt, maybe, or regret. "You don't want to try?"

"I don't even know if we can fix this," you admitted, your voice breaking slightly. "We barely see each other. We barely talk. I just... I don't know if this is what you want anymore."

Her jaw tightened, and she looked away, her hands clenching into fists. "I want you," she said, her accent thick with emotion. "But you—you are leaving."

"I don't have to."

The silence that followed was deafening. You wanted her to fight for you, to beg you to stay, but instead, she just sat there, her shoulders slumping under the weight of your words.

"I need to think," you said finally, standing up. "I'll stay at a hotel tonight."

She didn't try to stop you as you grabbed your bag you'd packed earlier and walked out the door. It closed behind you with a click that sounded deafening, final, and she didn't try and follow you. Your eyes stung with the familiar sensation of tears as you made your way to your car, a single one falling, staining your skin as you slumped into the drivers seat. You glanced at the house again, begging, hoping the door would open and Alexia would appear and plead with you to stay. But the door stayed closed, and the place Alexia would have once stood remained empty.

Feeling emptier than you ever had before, you started the car.

The hotel room felt cold and impersonal, but it was a welcome distraction from the heaviness of the flat. You spent hours staring at the ceiling, replaying the conversation -or lack there of, with Alexia over and over in your mind. You loved her. That was never the problem. Had never been the problem. But love wasn't always enough, and you weren't sure if you could keep pretending that it was.

Sleep didn't come easy that night.

The next morning, as you were packing up your things, there was a knock at your door. It was quiet, almost as though the person on the other side had no intention of you really hearing it. But you had. You opened the door to find Alexia standing there, her eyes red-rimmed and tired. She was holding a small box, her hands trembling slightly as she held it out to you.

"What's this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

She didn't answer, just motioned for you to open it. You do, and inside was a simple silver bracelet, engraved with the coordinates of the place where you'd first met. The Barça training grounds.

"I bought this for you," she said quietly, her voice halting and unsure. "But I... I never gave it to you. I was waiting for the right time."

Tears filled your eyes as you looked up at her. "Alexia..."

"I know I make mistakes," she said, her voice trembling. "But I love you. And I want to fix this. Please... don't go."

For the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe things weren't perfect, but they didn't have to be. Maybe you could find your way back to each other. Just like how you used to be.

You reached out, taking her hand in yours and squeezing softly. "I love you too," you said. "Let's figure this out. Together."

And for the first time in a long time, Alexia smiled—a real, genuine smile that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

But things don't always turn out like you wish.

The days passed in a blur of routines and rehearsed smiles, but no matter how much effort you and Alexia put into trying to mend the fractures in your relationship, something always felt off. Scheduled date nights became more of an obligation than a joy, a box to tick off in your shared attempts to fix what had once been effortless.

Dinners at your favorite restaurants were filled with polite conversation, a stark contrast to the laughter and shared glances that used to make the world feel smaller. When you went on walks, the silences felt heavier, stretched thin by the weight of everything that neither of you could bring yourselves to say. Even your rare lazy mornings together, which had once been sacred, now felt stilted, like two strangers trying too hard to find a common ground that had long since eroded.

You wanted to believe you could fix it. You both did. But the truth was undeniable. No amount of effort could recreate the spark that had gone out. And the harder you tried, the more apparent it became that you weren't meant to keep holding on.

You sat on the edge of the bed one night, staring at your phone but not really seeing the screen. Alexia was beside you, scrolling through her own phone, but the expression on her face was undecipherable. The space between you felt bigger than ever, and you knew she felt it too.

You thought about the Arsenal offer again. It had been weeks since you'd spoken to Alexia about it, but the idea had never left your mind. At first, you had dismissed it as an impulsive reaction to your struggles, a way to escape the pain of watching your relationship crumble into pieces. But the more time that passed, the more it felt like the right choice. Not just for your career, but for your sanity—and for Alexia's.

The thought of leaving her hurt, but not in the way you had expected. It wasn't the gut-wrenching agony you'd always imagined a breakup with Alexia would bring. Instead, it felt like a quiet sadness, a dull ache that you knew would fade with time.

You had been torturing yourself with the decision for days, envisioning the hurt in her eyes, the betrayal she would undoubtedly feel. But no matter how much you agonized over it, the answer was clear

Neither of you could heal while you were still together.

When you finally made the decision, it didn't bring the relief you had hoped for. Instead, it left you with a sense of finality, a heavy weight in your chest. You knew you needed to tell Alexia, but every time you tried, the words caught in your throat. Like there was something in the way.

It wasn't until a week later that you found the courage to say what needed to be said.

You came home from speaking to Jonatan to find Alexia in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner. She glanced up when you walked in, offering you a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hola," she said softly, her accent still as endearing as ever.

"Hi," you replied, leaning against the counter as you watched her. Your heart ached at the sight of her, at the knowledge of what you were about to do.

"I need to talk to you," you said, your voice trembling slightly.

Alexia froze, her knife hovering over the cutting board. After a second, she set it down carefully before turning to face you, her expression wary.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes searching yours.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. "I've decided to take the Arsenal offer."

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she didn't say anything. The silence in the room felt heavy. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "You're leaving?"

"I think it's the best thing for both of us," you said, your throat tight. You couldn't cry. Not now. "We've been trying so hard, but it's not working, Alexia. We can't keep pretending that everything is okay when it's evidently clear it's not."

Her jaw clenched, and she looked away, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. "I thought we were fixing it," she said, her voice trembling. "I thought we were trying."

"We were," you said, stepping closer to her. "But trying isn't enough. We're forcing something that isn't there anymore, and it's not fair to either of us."

She turned back to you, tears glistening in her eyes. The sight stung more than you thought it would. "So that's it? You're just leaving?"

"I don't want to hurt you," you said, your own voice breaking. "that's the last thing I ever want to do. But I can't stay and keep pretending that this is going to work. We deserve better than this, Alexia. Both of us."

Her shoulders slumped, and you knew she knew you were right. She let out a shaky breath. "I don't know how to say goodbye to you," she said, her voice choked.

You felt tears spill down your cheeks as you reached out, taking her hands in yours. "You don't have to say goodbye," you said softly. "We'll always have a connection, Alexia. It's inevitable. But we can't keep holding onto something that's only hurting us."

She nodded slowly, her tears falling freely now. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," you whisper, tugging on her hand and pulling her into your arms. She fell limp against you, arms clinging to your waist as she shook with silent sobs. You buried your face into her neck, taking in her smell, her touch. The way her hands fist your shirt tightly, like she was terrified to let go. It was the first time you'd held her in what felt like months. After a moment, you pulled away, your trembling hands reaching up to cup her cheeks. She stared at you, eyes shiny and cheeks wet. She leaned into your touch, and you smiled sadly as you gently wipe away the tears beneath her eyes. "And that's why I have to do this." You just manage to choke out.

Alexia's bottom lip trembled, and you pursed your own lips to stop them from doing the same as you pulled her back into your arms. This time, you allowed yourself to cry too.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of packing, paperwork, and goodbyes. Alexia helped you with everything, even though you knew it was killing her to watch you go. To leave the life you both knew so well behind. She was even there when you packed up the last of your things, her quiet presence a comfort even in the midst of the heartbreak.

On your last night in Barcelona, you sat together on the couch, a glass of wine in each of your hands. The silence between you was heavy, but not uncomfortable.

"I'm going to miss you," Alexia said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. You glanced at her to see her looking down at the glass she had resting on her leg, finger tip tracing over the rim.

"I'm going to miss you too," you replied, your heart aching at the thought of leaving her. She looked up at you, and the unmistakable shine of tears in her eyes was back. You reached forward, setting your wine onto the coffee table before holding out your arm. Alexia sniffled as she placed her glass next to your own before scooting closer, curling up against your side and laying her head against chest. You wrapped your arm around her shoulders, squeezing softly as you rest your cheek against the top of her head. No more words were spoken. They didn't need to be. What was done, was done, and now, you were just making the most of having her close.

When it was time to leave, she walked you to the door, her hand lingering in yours as she said goodbye.

"Take care of yourself," she said, her voice trembling.

"You too," you replied, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek.

And then you were gone, stepping outside with your bags in tow. Alexia remained in the threshold of the doorway as you packed your things into the trunk of your car, and as much as it pained you to do so, you ignore the quivering breaths that escape her lips as she tried, yet failed to hold herself together. As you opened the drivers side door, you glanced back at her one last time. She was frozen in place, arms crossed against her chest in what you knew was a futile effort at comforting herself.

You couldn't bring yourself to do anything more than lift your hand, a silent, yet almost pathetic bid goodbye. Alexia mimicked it, and you stare at her for just a second longer before finally getting into the car. You hear the quiet sob that escaped her lips just as you closed the door, and your own vision became blurry with tears you refused to let fall. As you start the car and put it into drive, you drive off into the quiet of the night without glancing back.

The flight to London was quiet, giving you plenty of time to reflect on everything that had happened. You knew you had made the right decision, but that didn't make it any easier. Starting over would be hard, you know that, but you were determined to find yourself again—to rediscover the passion and joy that had brought you to football in the first place.

And as much as it hurt to leave Alexia behind, you knew that this was the best thing for both of you. It was the only way to truly heal.

Settling into Arsenal was easier than you ever could have imagined. From the moment you stepped foot on the training pitch, you were greeted with smiles, playful banter, and an atmosphere that felt both warm and inviting. The team had an undeniable companionship, one you hadn't realized how much you missed. It wasn't just the people, though; it was the environment as a whole. Arsenal gave you space to breathe, to be yourself, and to rediscover the parts of football that made you fall in love with it in the first place.

Barça had once given you that too, at the beginning. But when your relationship with Alexia started to crumble, so had your relationship with the people you had once called your friends. Every interaction with them had felt forced, fake, even. The truth was you had never wanted them to know just what was going on behind the scenes when they weren’t there. You hadn’t wanted them to think they had to take sides.

For the first time in months, you felt truly free. Free from the weight of trying to fix something that was irreparable. Free from the guilt and the pain that had clung to you after leaving Alexia. And as difficult as it had been to walk away from her and everything you'd built together, you realized now it had been the right decision.

It wasn't immediate, of course. The first few weeks were a blur of adjusting to a new city, new teammates, and a new routine. But once you found your footing, you began to feel the joy creeping back in. The rush of adrenaline during a perfectly timed tackle, the satisfaction of weaving a pass through a crowded midfield, the way your teammates celebrated every small victory as if it were monumental—it all reminded you why you'd worked so hard to make it big in the first place.

And then there was Leah.

Leah Williamson, the team's captain and all-around golden girl, had been one of the first to welcome you. She'd offered you a tour of the facilities, introduced you to everyone, and made it her personal mission to ensure you felt at home. She had a heart of gold and a quick wit that often had you crying with laughter during team dinners. Her energy was infectious, and her kindness knew no bounds too.

At first, you didn't think much of it. Leah was friendly with everyone, so it wasn't surprising that she'd taken you under her wing. But as the weeks turned into months, you began to notice the little things. The way her gaze lingered on you a moment too long during training. The way she always seemed to find her way to your side during team activities. The way she'd offer to drive you home after late practices, even if it meant going out of her way.

You couldn't deny the connection between you, but the scars from your relationship with Alexia were still too raw to even think about dating again. You needed time to heal, to find yourself again. So, when Leah's shy advances became more apparent, you gently and kindly turned her down.

She never took it personally, though. Leah was patient, understanding, and never once made you feel pressured. Instead, she remained a constant source of support and friendship, always there with a warm smile or a sarcastic comment to make your day just that bit better.

By the time five months had passed, you were in a completely different place than when you first arrived. You felt stronger, both physically and mentally, lighter, and more like yourself than you had in a long time. And while you hadn't planned on falling for anyone, Leah somehow made it happen.

It started subtly, almost imperceptibly. The way your heart skipped a beat when she laughed. The way her touch lingered on your arm when she passed you a water bottle during breaks. The way she always seemed to know exactly what to say to calm your nerves before a big match without even trying.

You tried to ignore it at first, convincing yourself it was nothing more than a harmless crush. But the more time you spent with Leah, the harder it became to deny your feelings.

Three months after Leah first made her interest known, you found yourself standing outside the training ground, her car idling nearby as she waited for you. She'd offered to drive you home again, as she often did, and you'd agreed without hesitation.

As you slid into the passenger seat, you glanced over at her, taking in the way the golden evening light framed her face. She looked at you with that familiar, easy smile, and you felt something shift inside you.

"Leah," you said, your voice softer than you intended.

"Yeah?" she replied, turning to face you fully.

You hesitated for a moment, your hands fidgeting in your lap. "Would you... maybe want to grab dinner or something this weekend? Just the two of us?"

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you worried you'd misread everything. But then her smile grew, lighting up her entire face.

"I'd love to," she said, her voice warm.

And it was casual at first. You didn't go on any grand, elaborate dates. Instead, you kept things low-key, easing into the idea of a relationship and seeing where it might lead. You'd grab coffee after practice, watch movies at her place, or take long walks through the city, talking about everything and nothing all at the same time.

Leah never rushed you, never pushed for more than you were ready to give. And for that, you were endlessly grateful. She made you feel safe, cherished, and most importantly, like you could be yourself.

One evening, you found yourself curled up on Leah's couch, a bowl of popcorn balanced precariously on your lap as a movie played on the TV. Leah sat beside you, her arm draped casually along the back of the couch and over your shoulders.

As the credits rolled, you turned to her, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "You know," you said, your tone teasing, "I never thought I'd end up here."

"On my couch, stealing my popcorn?" she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

You laughed, nudging her playfully. "No, I mean... with you. After everything that happened, I didn't think I'd ever feel this way again."

Leah's expression softened, and she reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "You deserve to be happy," she said simply. "And if I can be the one to make you happy, then that's all I want."

Your heart melted at her words, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

As the weeks turned into months, your relationship with Leah grew stronger. She became your rock, your confidante, and your biggest cheerleader. And though the memories of your past relationship with Alexia still lingered, they no longer weighed you down like an anchor to shore.

You were finally moving forward, and with Leah by your side, you knew you could face whatever challenges came your way.

Because sometimes, love wasn't about grand gestures or sweeping romances. Sometimes, it was about finding someone who made you feel whole, who reminded you of all the reasons you deserved to be happy.

And Leah did exactly that.

The Emirates Stadium buzzed with anticipation, the Arsenal fans creating an atmosphere so loud and electric you could almost feel it in your bones. But none of it seemed to register with you as you stood in the tunnel, waiting to step out onto the pitch. Your heart was pounding for a reason that had nothing to do with nerves about the match.

Barcelona.

And Alexia.

You hadn't spoken to her in months. Not since the last awkward exchange after you'd left for Arsenal. She hadn't reached out, and neither had you. It was better that way. Cleaner. But the silence didn't mean you hadn't thought about her. Late at night, when your mind wandered, or when something small reminded you of her, the memories crept in. You'd even caught yourself scrolling through her Instagram more times than you cared to admit, trying to piece together what her life looked like now you weren’t in it.

But absolutely nothing could have prepared you for seeing her in person again.

As the line-up for the match formed in the tunnel, your gaze was drawn to the familiar blonde ahead of you. Her back was to you, the number 11 stitched across her Barça kit. She looked the same, yet entirely different. Her posture was as composed and confident as always, the way it had been every time she'd led her team.

You tried to focus elsewhere. On the way Leah stood next to you, her fingers subtly brushing against yours in quiet reassurance. On the way your Arsenal teammates were joking to ease the tension. But no matter how much you tried to ground yourself, your eyes found their way back to Alexia.

And then she turned.

Her head tilted slightly as her gaze swept over the line-up behind her, landing on you. For a moment, her expression was unreadable. Then, her lips curved into a soft, familiar smile, one that held all the tenderness and intimacy of the countless nights you'd spent wrapped up in each other.

It all but knocked the air from your lungs.

"Hey, you alright?" Leah's voice pulled you back to reality, her hand brushing against your arm as she stepped closer.

You tore your gaze from Alexia, looking up at Leah's concerned face. You nodded quickly ignoring the guilt and forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine," you said, the words a little too quick, a little too forced. But Leah didn't seem to notice. She gave you a small smile of her own before turning back to face the pitch, her focus already shifting to the game.

You wished it was that easy for you.

From the first whistle, the match was intense. Arsenal and Barcelona were two of the best teams in the world, and it showed in every pass, every tackle, every movement on the pitch. The pace was relentless, the energy palpable and consuming.

But as much as you tried to focus, to pour everything into the game, you couldn't stop your mind from drifting. Every time Alexia touched the ball, every time you caught her in your peripheral vision, it was like a weight pressing down on your chest. Heavy and restricting.

It wasn't that you wanted to be with her again. At least, you didn't think so. Things with Leah were good—great, even. She was everything you'd ever hoped for in a partner: kind, funny, supportive, and so easy to love. But seeing Alexia again brought back all the memories you'd worked so hard to bury. The good times, the bad times, and everything in between.

At one point in the first half, Alexia came close, her quick feet dancing around the ball as she tried to get past you. You stepped in, cutting her off and forcing her to pass back. As the play shifted, her eyes met yours for a fleeting second. There was no smile this time, just a look you couldn't quite place.

It was enough to throw you off, and you missed the call to press higher up the pitch. Leah's voice rang out behind you, sharp and commanding as she directed the team. You snapped out of it, refocusing on the game, but the moment stayed with you.

By halftime, the score was still 0-0, both teams locked in a draw. As you made your way to the locker room with the rest of the team, Leah fell into step beside you.

"You've been quiet," she said, her tone casual but laced with concern.

"Just focused," you replied, hoping it sounded convincing. You knew deep down it didn’t.

Leah gave you a small nod, her gaze lingering on you for a moment before she looked ahead. She didn't press, and for that, you were grateful.

The second half didn't get any easier. Barcelona came out stronger, pressing higher and creating more chances. You found yourself locked in a constant battle with Alexia in midfield, each of you pushing the other to your limits. It was both exhilarating and exhausting. Alexia had always been one of the most intelligent players you'd ever faced, and going up against her reminded you of why she was considered one of the best in the world.

But it wasn't just her skill that got to you. It was the way she played with that same passion and fire you'd fallen in love with. The way her voice carried across the pitch as she encouraged her teammates. The way her eyes lit up when Barça came close to scoring.

It was all too much.

By the time the final whistle blew, the score was still tied. A hard-fought draw. Both teams had left everything on the pitch, and as you made your way through the post-match handshakes, you felt the exhaustion settling in.

And then you reached Alexia.

She extended her hand to you, her grip firm yet gentle. "Good game," she said, her English accented but clear.

"Yeah, you too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Her hand lingered in yours, her eyes searching yours as if she wanted to say something more. But then someone called her name, and the moment passed.

The locker room was a blur of noise and activity as the team celebrated the hard-earned result. Leah was in the center of it all, her laughter and energy infectious as she joked with the others.

You tried to join in, tried to match their enthusiasm, but your heart wasn't in it. Eventually, you slipped away, retreating to a quieter corner of the room.

Leah found you a few minutes later, her expression softening as she sat down beside you. "Hey," she said gently. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired."

She didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. Instead, she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. "Well, you were brilliant out there," she said. "Just so you know."

You leaned into her touch, letting her warmth and words wash over you. For the first time since the match ended, you felt a small sense of peace.

But as much as you wanted to believe Leah's words, as much as you wanted to focus on this moment, your mind kept drifting back to Alexia. To the way she'd looked at you, the way her smile had stirred something deep inside you. It made you feel so incredibly guilty because Leah didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to feel second best.

For the first time in months, you found yourself wondering if you'd ever truly be free of her.

You sat at your kitchen table, staring blankly at the untouched cup of tea in front of you that you'd made at least an hour ago. The London skyline stretched out beyond the window, but it did little to calm the storm inside your head. It had been two weeks since the match against Barcelona, and yet, Alexia hadn't left your thoughts.

You had tried—really tried—to push her from your mind. You'd thrown yourself into training, focused harder than ever during matches, and spent as much time as possible with Leah. But no matter what you did, Alexia was still there. The memory of her smile in the tunnel, the way her eyes had lingered on yours for just a little too long, haunted you.

Had you made the right decision leaving Barcelona? Leaving her? Getting into a relationship with Leah before you’d truly had chance to heal? All because you didn’t want to be alone? You cared about Leah. Truly, you did. She made you feel good, and she was funny, and sweet, and so so kind. But did you really love her? Or did you just think you did, because you so badly wanted that to be the case? Or was she just a distraction? Something to hide behind so you didn’t have to face the truth?

The questions gnawed at you, refusing to let go. When you'd made the decision to transfer to Arsenal, it had felt like the only option. Your relationship with Alexia had become a shadow of what it once was—distant, strained, and suffocating. You had convinced yourself that leaving was the best thing for both of you. And it had been, at first. But now, you weren't so sure.

Had you given up too easily? Or were you just overthinking everything because seeing her face again after so long apart had all but thrown you off balance?

Training that morning was grueling, but not because of the drills or the pace. Your mind was elsewhere, and it showed. You missed passes, lost focus, and trailed behind during sprints. Jonas called you out on it more than once, his sharp tone cutting through the fog in your mind.

"Focus!" he barked after you fumbled yet another touch. "If your head's not here, you're no good to anyone!"

You nodded mutely, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from snapping back. He was right, of course. But knowing that didn't make it any easier to shake off the heaviness in your chest. It quite literally felt like you suffocating.

Leah caught up with you as you trudged off the pitch at the end of the session. "Hey," she said, her voice soft and laced with concern. "Rough day?"

You forced a small smile. "Just tired," you replied, the lie rolling off your tongue with an ease it shouldn't.

Leah studied you for a moment, her blue eyes searching yours. She didn't press, though. Not like she probably should have. Instead, she slipped her hand into yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Let's grab dinner tonight," she suggested. "Just the two of us. We haven't done that in a while."

You nodded, guilt twisting in your gut. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Dinner with Leah should have been easy. It always was. She was charming and funny, her quick wit never failing to make you laugh. But tonight, even her best efforts couldn't break through the wall you'd built around yourself. You picked at your food, barely contributing to the conversation. Leah noticed, of course, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she reached across the table and took your hand, her thumb brushing softly over your knuckles.

"You've been really quiet lately," she said gently. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitated, searching for the right words. You wanted to tell her everything, to finally unload the weight that had been pressing down on you for weeks. But how could you? How could you admit that you were thinking about your ex more than you should? That you were questioning everything about your life and your choices?

"I'm fine," you said finally, forcing another smile. "Just a lot on my mind."

Leah's gaze lingered on you, her expression soft but full of concern. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Of course," you said quickly. "I know."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

That night, as you lay in bed beside Leah, your mind wandered again. You couldn't stop thinking about Alexia—about the life you'd left behind in Barcelona.

You'd loved her. God, you'd loved her so much it hurt. And for a long time, you'd thought she was it. Your forever. The one person who truly understood you in a way no one else ever could.

So why hadn't you tried harder to save it?

The question burned in your mind, keeping you awake long after Leah had drifted off beside you. Had you been scared? Had you been so afraid of watching your relationship crumble that you'd run before it could?

Or had it simply been too far gone to save?

The next few days passed in a blur. You went through the motions—training, matches, spending time with Leah—but it all felt hollow. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing, that you were somehow stuck between two worlds and you couldn't escape either.

It wasn't fair to Leah. She deserved someone who was fully present, someone who could give her the love and attention she deserved. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't give her that. Not when your heart and mind were still tangled up in Alexia.

You hated yourself for it.

Leah was perfect in so many ways. She was kind and caring, always putting others before herself. She made you laugh, even on your worst days, and she had a way of making you feel safe and valued. So why couldn't you just be happy with her? Why wasn't she enough?

One evening, after another restless night, you found yourself scrolling through Alexia's Instagram again. You hated that you couldn't seem to stop. Every photo felt like a punch to the gut—a reminder of the life you'd left behind. There she was, smiling with her teammates, celebrating yet another win. There she was with her family, the people who had welcomed you so warmly during your time in Barcelona. And there she was, looking as beautiful as ever, her smile brighter than the sun.

She looked happy.

The realization hit you like a train. Alexia was happy. She was moving on, living her life without you. And as much as it hurt, you knew you couldn't begrudge her that.

But what about you?

Were you happy?

The answer was painfully clear.

It took you four days to summon the courage to talk to Leah. The thought of hurting her, of shattering the trust and connection you'd built over the past few months, made you sick to your stomach. But you knew it was the right thing to do. It wasn't fair to lead her on. To pretend like you were happy when in actual fact it felt like you were drowning. As you sat together on the couch together, you finally found the words.

"Leah," you began, your voice audibly trembling. You hated that you already sounded so pathetic.

She turned to look at you, her brows furrowing in concern. "What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to you about something."

Her expression shifted, the worry in her eyes deepening. "Okay," she said softly. "I'm listening."

You hesitated, searching for the right words. "I care about you," you said finally. "I really do. And I've loved being with you these past couple of months. But..."

Her face fell, and your heart shattered at the sight. Here you were, yet again breaking someone's heart.

"But I don't think I'm in the right place to be in a relationship right now," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I was ready, but I'm not. And it's not fair to you."

Leah was silent for a long moment, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Is this about Alexia?" she asked finally, her voice steady but quiet. It was as though she knew she couldn't change your mind. You longed to reach out and take her hand. Hug her. Anything. But it felt selfish to do so. And so you just sit, trembling hands clasped together on your lap.

You looked down at your hands, unable to meet her gaze. "Partly," you admitted. "But it's not just about her. It's about me. I need to figure out who I am and what I want, and I can't do that while I'm still carrying so much baggage from my past."

Leah nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I understand," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "I don't like it, but I understand."

You reached for her hand then, your heart aching as she allowed you to hold it. "You mean so much to me," you said, your voice breaking. "And I'm so sorry."

She gave you a small, sad smile. "It's okay," she said. "I'll be okay."

You wanted to believe her, but the pain in her eyes told you otherwise.

That night, after Leah had left, you sat alone in your apartment, the weight of your decision crashing down on you. It was the right thing to do—for both of you—but that didn't make it any easier.

The days after ending things with Leah felt like you were moving through molasses. Time passed, but you hardly noticed. Training sessions were a blur of drills and matches that you barely registered. You showed up, you worked, and you left, barely engaging with anyone. Your teammates were kind, supportive, but you couldn't shake the distance you kept from them—or from yourself.

Leah was polite, as professional as ever, but the warmth that used to mark your conversations had been replaced with a cool hesitance. You couldn't blame her. You had ended things, after all. She deserved space to process. But the tentative exchanges between you only deepened your sense of isolation.

The others noticed, of course. How could they not? Beth's concerned glances, Viv's quiet observations, and Katie's half-hearted jokes in an attempt to cheer you up didn't go unnoticed. But you didn't know how to let them in. How could you explain that it wasn't just about Leah? That it wasn't just about Alexia?

It was everything.

You felt like a ghost of yourself. Your apartment felt like a prison, cold and empty, and the silence within its walls was almost deafening. Tasks that once seemed simple—cooking, cleaning, even eating—felt monumental. Most nights, you picked at something small and crawled into bed, waiting for sleep to take away the ache of loneliness.

After a particularly grueling training session, you sat alone at your cubby, pulling off your boots. Your body was exhausted, but your mind refused to quiet down. The other players chatted and laughed around you, their voices blending into white noise.

You were so lost in thought that you didn't notice someone approaching until a throat cleared softly above you. Startled, you looked up to see Leah standing there, her arms crossed and expression guarded.

"Hey," she said, her voice low and hesitant.

"Hey," you replied, equally cautious.

There was a long pause, the kind of silence that felt heavy and awkward. Leah shifted on her feet, looking like she wanted to bolt but was forcing herself to stay.

"Uh... Beth and Viv are having dinner at theirs tonight," she said, finally breaking the silence. "They wanted me to ask if you'd like to come."

Your first instinct was to say no. The idea of being in a social setting, of pretending to be okay when you felt anything but, was overwhelming. You opened your mouth to decline, but Leah spoke again before you could.

"Beth insists," she added, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

You glanced across the locker room to where Beth was sitting at her cubby. She was already looking your way, her smile warm and encouraging. It was clear that Leah had been sent as a messenger, and you felt a pang of guilt at the realization. They were trying to include you, to pull you out of whatever shell you'd retreated into.

After a long moment, you nodded. "Okay," you said quietly.

Leah gave a small, almost relieved smile. "Good," she said. "We'll head over after showers."

Beth and Viv's house was cozy and welcoming, filled with the smells of cooking and the sounds of music playing softly in the background. It was the kind of warmth you hadn't felt in a long time, and it took you by surprise.

"Hey, there she is!" Beth greeted you with a grin as you stepped inside. She pulled you into a quick hug, her energy so infectious you couldn't help but hug her back. "Glad you could make it."

Viv appeared behind her, offering a quieter but no less genuine smile. "Dinner's almost ready. Make yourself comfortable."

You followed Leah into the living room, where a few of the other girls were already lounging on the couch, chatting and laughing. It was hard not to feel out of place, but Beth's relentless cheerfulness made it a little easier. She handed you a drink and dragged you into a conversation, refusing to let you sit quietly on the sidelines.

For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself relax.

Dinner was lively and filled with conversation about anything and everything, much of it thanks to Beth's sharp wit and Viv's occasional dry humor. The food was delicious, and you found yourself eating more than you had in days.

At one point, Leah caught your eye from across the table. She smiled—small and tentative, but genuine—and you felt a flicker of something you hadn't felt in a while: hope.

The evening passed more quickly than you expected. By the time you left, your mood had lifted ever so slightly. It wasn't a cure-all for everything you were feeling, but it was a start, at least. And for that you were grateful.

The next day, Beth cornered you in the locker room before training.

"So," she began, leaning casually against the bench. "You survived dinner."

You laughed softly. "I did. Thanks for inviting me."

Beth grinned. "Anytime. But seriously, don't be a stranger. We're a team, you know? We're here for you."

Her words hit you harder than you expected. You nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat.

"Thanks, Beth," you said quietly.

She nods, reaching out to squeeze your arm before heading to her cubby to change for training.

Two months had passed before could really process it, and while the adjustment to being alone again was difficult, you were doing your best to move forward. Slowly but surely, life in London away from the home you'd once known began to feel less overwhelming.

You made a conscious effort to bond with the team. Game nights became a weekly tradition you found yourself looking forward to, even if you weren't the most competitive player off the pitch. Coffee outings after practice gave you a chance to connect with your teammates on a more personal level, and you were surprised at how much you enjoyed their company.

Beth, in particular, became your closest friend. She had a way of talking that was infectious, filling the silences you used to find suffocating. Being around her was easy—she didn't let you slip too far into your own head, and she never made you feel like a burden. Instead, she seemed to know exactly when to step in and distract you. You started spending more time with her than anyone else, gravitating toward her warmth and energy. And Beth, as perceptive as she was, never pushed you away. It was like she understood that you needed her company as much as she needed yours.

Things with Leah had also improved. The initial awkwardness and hurt that hung over you both after the breakup were beginning to fade. Slowly but surely, a tentative friendship began to form. It wasn't perfect—not yet. You still hadn't spent time alone with her, unsure if you trusted yourself not to mess things up again. But there was hope, a mutual understanding that you could reach a place of real friendship eventually.

Sometimes, late at night, you wondered if things would've worked out with Leah if it hadn't been for that match against Barça. Seeing Alexia again had reopened wounds you thought were healed, stirring feelings you weren't prepared or had any intention of dealing with.

But London was your home now, and you were finally beginning to accept it. Your life was here, not in Barcelona.

One evening, as you sat on the couch scrolling through your phone, a notification dropped down from the top of your screen.

Alexia: Hey

Three letters, no context.

You stared at the message for what felt like an eternity. Your stomach twisting and your mind racing with questions. Why now? Why after months of silence?

You didn't reply, but the message was impossible to ignore. It lingered in the back of your mind, tugging at your thoughts throughout the next few days. You found yourself spiraling again, replaying old memories and spinning yourself into an endless cycle of what ifs.

Beth noticed first.

It was during a coffee outing after training. You'd been quiet, your mind elsewhere, and whilst Beth had initially been patient, she finally called you out.

"Alright," she prefaces, setting her cup down with a soft thud. You look up from your own cup at the sound, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What's going on? You've been weird the past few days."

"I'm fine," you said automatically, but Beth raised an eyebrow.

"Don't give me that." She rolled her eyes. "Something's up. Tell me."

You hesitated, torn between wanting to open up and not wanting to drag her into your mess. But Beth had a way of pulling the truth out of you, and you knew it was only a matter of time until you break.

"It's nothing," you said finally, trying, yet failing, to sound convincing. "Just... in my own head a bit."

You could tell by the look on Beth's face that she didn't buy it. You knew that would happen, really, but deep down you wished she wasn't so damn perceptive. "You're always in your own head." She gave you a nudge with her foot under the table. "But this feels different. Spill."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "It's..." you trail off, and Beth nodded, silently encouraging you to continue "it's Alexia." You admit.

Beth's expression shifted, her teasing demeanor replaced by genuine concern. "What about her?"

"She texted me," you admitted quietly. "Just a simple 'hey.' But it's messing with me and I don't know why."

Beth leaned forward in her seat slightly. "Have you replied?"

"No," you shake your head. "I don't even know what to say. Or if I should say anything at all."

Beth nodded, giving you a moment to gather your thoughts.

"What do you want to say?" she asked finally.

You shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Part of me wants to ask her why she reached out. Part of me thinks I should ignore it and move on. And part of me..."

Beth tilted her head, waiting.

"Part of me misses her," you admitted, the words feeling heavy on your tongue.

Beth didn't judge or offer unsolicited advice. Instead, she reached across the table and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Give it a few days. Think on it, yeah? Don’t reply because you feel like you have to."

You run your hands over your face before letting out a deep sigh, eyes drawn to the loose granules of sugar that had spilled onto the table your drinks rested on. "I've left her on read for over forty eight hours," you murmured. "What if-"

"No," Beth shook her head, and you look up at her, surprised at the firmness of her voice. "She'll understand why you haven't answered straight away. It's been, what? Nearly a year since you left her? Left Barcelona?"

You nod, the tightness in your chest returning.

"She can't expect you to not have mixed feelings about this whole thing. Nearly a year apart. Months since you'd last talked. She's gotta give you a bit of leeway. I'm sure she'd feel the same if the situation was reversed and it was you who texted her."

You nod again, knowing was right.

"Give it time," she reached over and squeezed your hand again. You return the gesture. "If they're meant to, things will work out."

You sighed lightly as you picked up your coffee. The cup was cold now, and so was the liquid inside, but that doesn't stop you from taking a sip anyway despite the immediate complaint from your tastebuds.

Beth simply grinned. "That was gross, wasn't it?" She gestured to your cup, and you finally allow yourself to laugh as you set the cup down.

"Oh yeah. Disgusting." You agreed, eternally grateful she'd managed to change the subject without really trying.

Leah was the next to notice.

It was during training, and you were distracted again, your passes sloppy and your focus clearly elsewhere. Leah pulled you aside during a water break, her expression unreadable.

"Hey," she said softly, giving you a gentle nudge with her elbow.. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you lied as you dropped your water back into the cooler, but Leah simply raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you.

"You're not," she said matter-of-factly. "What's going on?"

The last thing you wanted was to talk about Alexia with Leah. It felt wrong, considering everything that had happened between you two. But Leah's concern was genuine, and you couldn't bring yourself to brush her off completely after trying so hard these past few months to make things right with her.

"It's complicated," you said finally.

Leah crossed her arms, waiting patiently.

"Leah, I'm not sure if-" you try, but she cut you off.

"Listen, we're friends yeah?"

You nodded immediately. "Yeah, of course, but-"

"And friends tell each other stuff," she cut you off again. "Even the difficult things." She adds.

"I know," you look down at your boots. They were still caked in mud after yesterday's practice in the rain, the chore of cleaning them completely forgotten in your haste to make dinner. "I know that." You look up again. "Really, I do. But..." you cut yourself off this time.

"But...?"

"I don't want to hurt you, Leah," you admit. “We've worked hard to make this friendship work after everything and the last thing I want to do is ruin that by..."

"By what?" Her voice was quieter now. Gentle.

"By talking about my ex." You finally bring yourself to say.

"Ahh," Leah said. "So this is about Alexia."

You nodded, guilt churning your stomach. Suddenly, you feel her hand take your own. You looked up, and you were surprised to see the smile on her face.

"We were friends before we were anything else, y'know. In fact, I'm pretty sure we were friends for longer than we were together, especially if you count after the fact. Which I do, by the way." She squeezed your hand.

Your lips quirked up just slightly.

"And as your friend," she punctuated that with another squeeze. "It's within my rights to demand you tell me whats wrong."

"Demand?" The quiet laughter that escaped your lips was a surprise to you both.

"Damn right," she grinned, finally dropping your hand and crossing her arms against her chest. "So tell me, what's going on."

You hesitated for a second, raising an eyebrow to silently ask if she was sure. Leah just sighs exasperatedly as she gives you another nudge, and you take that as your cue.

"She texted me out of the blue, and it's... it's thrown me off."

Leah didn't flinch or show any sign of discomfort. Instead, she smiled just slightly, tilting her head to the side.

"What did she say?"

"Just 'hey,'" you said, shaking your head. "But apparently three letters are enough to mess with my head."

Leah's hummed. "Do you want to talk to her?"

"I don't know," you said honestly. "I don't even know what she wants. Or why she's reaching out now, after so long.”

Leah was quiet for a moment. "Sometimes, the only way to stop overthinking is to face it head-on."

Despite the seriousness of her words, you couldn't help but joke a little in spite of yourself. "Since when were you so wise?" You teased.

Leah's mouth parted in shock as she placed a hand to her chest in mock hurt. "'scuse you, I've always been wise thank you very much."

"You have?" You tilted your head to the side. "I must have amnesia or something because I definitely don't remember it being that way."

Leah scoffed. "Amnesia she says. That's it. You've asked for it now." She rolled up her none existent sleeves, and you take a few steps backwards in preparation to run. Seconds later, she lunged at you, and you couldn’t help the squeak that escaped your lips as you trip over your own feet in your haste to escape.

That night, you sat on your couch, staring at Alexia's message again. Your finger hovered over the keyboard, your mind a giant mess of conflicting emotions. Should you text her? It felt wrong not to do so considering she'd been left on read for nearly four days. But had it been too long? Had too much time passed? Was your chance gone?

Before you could stop yourself, you typed out a reply.

You: Hey. How are you?

It was simple, cautious. You didn't expect a response right away, but your phone buzzed almost immediately.

Alexia: I'm okay. I just... I wanted to check on you.

Your heart clenched. You typed back before you could overthink it.

You: I'm fine. London's good.

Her next reply was slower, as though she was choosing her words carefully.

Alexia: I miss you.

You stared at the screen, the weight of her words hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Did you miss her too? Of course, you did. You always had. But was that enough to reopen this chapter of your life after it had crumbled so badly the first time?

For now, you didn't reply.

The following days were a blur of confusion and who knew what else. You opened up to Leah again, despite your initial hesitation to do so the last time. Thankfully, she didn't seem to mind, especially when you treat her to lunch as a way of saying both thank you and I'm sorry at the same time. As she ate, she listened patiently as you spilled everything—your lingering feelings for Alexia, your doubts about replying to her, and the guilt you carried for how everything had ended in the first place.

"Do you still love her?" Leah asked gently, pushing away her plate and fiddling with the napkin.

The question caught you off guard. Did you?

"I don't know," you said honestly. "I think I do. But I don't know if it's the kind of love that's enough to fix everything."

Leah nodded. "Maybe it's not about fixing anything. Maybe it's about finding closure, for both of you."

Her words gave you a lot to think about.

As the days passed, you found yourself slowly coming to terms with the fact that you couldn't avoid Alexia forever. Whether it was closure or something more, you needed to figure out what this meant, for both of you.

And so, one evening, you picked up your phone and sent her a message.

You: Can we talk?

Her reply came almost instantly.

Alexia: Yes. Anytime.

With a deep breath, you tapped the call button and brought the phone to your ear. The line rang, each sound increasing your anxiety until it clicked.

"Hola," her voice came through softly, hesitant.

"Hi," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

There was a pause, and you could hear her breathing on the other end. The sound of it was both familiar and strange, tugging at emotions you'd tried for hard to bury.

"How are you?" she asked, breaking the silence. Her English, still thick with her accent, wrapped around the words in a way that made your chest tighten.

"I'm okay," you said, though you weren't sure it was entirely true. "How are you?"

"Good," she replied, though her tone didn't sound convincing. "Better... now."

You didn't know how to respond to that, so you stayed quiet, letting the awkward silence stretch between you both. Hearing her voice again after so long was overwhelming. You'd spent months replaying the sound of it in your head, but the real thing was different. Rawer. More real.

Finally, you gathered the courage to break the tension. "Why did you text me?"

Alexia hesitated, and you could almost picture her biting her lip, trying to decide how honest she should be. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, vulnerable.

"I miss you," she said, the words simple yet heavy.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn't bring yourself to respond. You swallow heavily, before finally…

"I miss you too," you admitted.

The line went quiet again, but this time the silence felt heavier, weighted with all the unspoken things left unsaid between you.

"I want to be in your life," she said finally, her voice quiet, almost pleading. "As a friend, if that's all you can give me. But... more, if..." she didn’t finish her sentence, but you were fully aware of what she’d left unsaid and your heart felt like it was in your throat. You'd known Alexia to be bold, fearless on the pitch, but this wasn't the same kind of bravery. This was her laying herself bare, vulnerable in a way that made your chest ache.

"I don't know what to say," you said honestly. "Alexia, I've missed you every single day since I left. But we ended things for a reason. We weren't... good for each other anymore. Do you really think we can be now?"

There was a soft sigh on the other end of the line, followed by a long pause before she replied.

"I don't know," she said quietly. "But I know I want to try. Even if it's just as your friend. I need you in my life, somehow.” Her words hit you hard, and you rubbed at your temples, trying to sort through the mess of emotions swirling in your head.

"Alexia, I..." You trailed off as your hand dropped to your lap, unsure how to finish the sentence. "I just, this is a lot. I don't know if I've even healed properly. From us, from leaving."

"I understand," she said quickly, and you could hear both the sincerity and sadness in her voice. "I do not want to push you. I just... I needed to tell you how I feel."

You sighed deeply as you let her words sink in. She wasn't asking for everything, not yet. Just a chance, and you could give her that, right?

"Maybe... friends," you said finally, the word feeling foreign in the context of your relationship with her. "At least for now. Until we can figure this out. I think we need to talk in person, really talk, before we make any decisions."

"Okay," she said softly, and you could hear the relief in her voice. "Friends, for now."

You nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "Yeah. For now."

Another silence settled between you, but this one felt less awkward, less strained. It was as if the first few barriers had been broken, leaving room for something new—something uncertain but not entirely unwelcome.

"I'll let you go," you said after a while, though you weren't sure if you really wanted to end the call.

"Okay," she said, her voice softer now. "Thank you for calling."

"Thank you for texting," you replied.

The call ended, leaving you staring at your phone. You felt raw, exposed, and unsure of what came next. But there was also a flicker of hope—small, fragile, but there.

Life settled into an odd rhythm, with Alexia somehow slotting herself back into your world as though she'd never left. You didn't quite know how it happened—one moment she was just a text on your screen, and the next, she was a consistent part of your life again. It felt strange at first, a little unnatural, but over time, you found a comfortable balance.

Most days, you focused on your life in London. Training and games filled your schedule, but it was the little things that kept you grounded. You spent a lot of time with Beth and Leah. They were easy company, and Beth especially had a way of making you feel lighter.

"You're coming to mine tonight, yeah?" Beth asked one day after training, slinging an arm around your shoulder. "I got Viv to agree to a game of charades. You have to see her impression of a giraffe—it's iconic."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Alright, I'll come. But only if you promise not to let Leah cheat this time."

Beth grinned. "No promises."

Moments like these were the highlights of your week. They reminded you that you had people here, that you weren't as alone as you sometimes felt.

But then there was Alexia.

She occupied a quiet space in your life, a shadow of the past that lingered in the present. You texted almost every day, though the conversations weren't always long or meaningful.

Alexia: Hola. How was training?

You: Good. We had a double session today. You?

Alexia: Hard. Coach had us doing sprints for hour.

Simple exchanges like this became your new normal. They felt safe, like you were keeping her close without letting her in too far.

And then there were the phone calls.

They started innocently enough. Once a week, usually in the evening, one of you would call the other. The conversations were casual—how your days had gone, updates on mutual friends. You looked forward to them. Hearing her voice, even through the awkward pauses and occasional stilted phrases, felt comforting.

One night, after a particularly tough training session, you found yourself dialing her number without even thinking.

"Hola," she answered, her voice warm and familiar.

"Hey," you said, curling up on your sofa, tossing a blanket over your legs and letting out a soft sigh. "How's your day been?"

"Busy," she replied. "But good. We had media stuff this morning, and then training. Now I am cooking."

"What're you making?"

"Paella," she said, and you could hear the pride in her voice. "Do you remember it?"

You smiled. "How could I forget? You always made the best paella."

She laughed softly. "Not always. Remember the time I burned it?"

You did, and the memory made you laugh. "Yeah, and then you tried to convince me it was supposed to taste like that."

The conversation continued, easy and light. But as you were saying goodbye, Alexia slipped.

"Goodnight," she said softly. "I love you."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Without thinking, you murmured, "I love you too," before ending the call.

The silence that followed was suffocating. You stared at your phone screen, now blank, replaying the moment over and over again.

You did love her. That much you knew. But what did that even mean now?

The next time it happened, you didn't say it back.

"I love you," she said quietly, her voice hesitant, almost as if she hadn't meant to say it at all.

You froze, unsure of how to respond. After a beat of silence, Alexia cleared her throat awkwardly. "Lo siento. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you managed, but your voice sounded distant even to yourself.

She hung up shortly after, and you stared at your phone, guilt clawing at your chest. You texted her later, assuring her it was really was fine, and she replied with a simple Gracias.

But it wasn't fine. Not really.

You didn't know what to do with the feelings that resurfaced every time she said those three words. Part of you wanted to say them back, to dive headfirst into whatever this was and figure it out along the way. But another part of you was terrified—of getting hurt again, of hurting her, of making the same mistakes you'd made before.

So you kept things as they were: tentative, friendly, and painfully unresolved.

In London, life moved on. You found yourself leaning on Beth more and more. She had a way of distracting you from your thoughts, her constant chatter filling the empty spaces in your head.

"You're awfully quiet today," she said one afternoon as you walked to a café after training. "What's going on up there?"

"Nothing," you lied, forcing a smile.

Beth raised an eyebrow. "Liar. Is this about her again?"

You sighed, not bothering to deny it. Beth knew enough about your situation with Alexia to read between the lines.

"She texted me," you admitted.

"And?"

"And... we've been talking. Calling, too."

Beth stopped walking, turning to face you. "Okay, but what do you want from this? Do you want her back? Or do you just miss the idea of her?"

Her bluntness caught you off guard, but it was a question you'd been avoiding for weeks.

"I don't know," you said honestly. "I don't even know if I'm ready to figure that out."

Beth softened, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing softly. "Take your time, yeah? No one's rushing you. But don't string her along if you're not sure."

You nodded, appreciating her honesty even if it stung a little.

That night, Alexia called.

"Hola," she said, her voice bright. "How are you?"

"Good," you replied, settling onto your bed. "How's Barcelona?"

"Busy," she said, laughing lightly. "But good. I saw Mapi today. She asks about you."

"Tell her I said hi."

"I will."

The conversation flowed easily, as it often did now. You talked about training, upcoming matches, little things that didn't really matter but still felt important. As the call went on, you found yourself relaxing, the tension of the day melting away. Alexia had always had that effect on you—making the world feel a little less overwhelming, even if just for a moment.

When it was time to hang up, she hesitated.

"Goodnight," she said softly.

"Goodnight," you replied, waiting for the slip that you knew might come.

But this time, it didn't, and you didn't know how you felt about it.

"Sleep well," she said instead, her voice warm.

"You too," you said, hesitating for just a second before hanging up.

When you saw Alexia standing in the arrivals hall at Heathrow, everything inside you stilled. She looked the same as she always had. Calm, composed, effortlessly beautiful. But there was something else now, a nervousness in the way her eyes darted through the crowd, the way her hands fidgeted with the strap of her carry-on bag. When she saw you, a small smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

"Hola" she said softly, her voice almost lost in the noise of the airport.

"Hey," you replied, stepping closer.

She hesitated, her weight shifting from one foot to the other. You could tell she wasn't sure whether to hug you or not, and you made the decision for her, pulling her into a quick, firm embrace. She melted into it for just a moment before you stepped back, both of you retreating into the safety of polite distance.

"Long flight?" you asked, grabbing the handle of her suitcase and motioning for her to follow you toward the parking lot.

"Not so bad," she said, falling into step beside you. "I sleep through most of it."

The drive back to your flat was mostly quiet. The conversation was polite, surface-level, but it felt wrong, like you were strangers who barely knew each other instead of two people who had once shared everything.

"Do you have everything you need for your trip?" you asked at one point, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Alexia nodded. "Sí, I do not think I will need much. It's mostly meetings. And maybe a bit of sightseeing, if there is time."

You hummed in acknowledgment, but you didn't press her further. You knew her tells too well to believe that this trip was purely business.

When you arrived at your flat, you offered her the guest room to settle into, and she disappeared inside with her suitcase. You busied yourself in the kitchen, reheating the pasta you'd left in the microwave earlier, trying to keep your hands steady as the weight of what lay ahead bore down on you.

When Alexia reappeared, she looked hesitant, like she wasn't sure where to sit or what to do.

"Dinner's ready," you said, nodding toward the small table.

"Gracias," she murmured, sitting down across from you.

The meal was simple, eaten mostly in silence except for the occasional comment about how good it was or how tired she felt from traveling.

After dinner, you both moved to the couch. Alexia sat at the far end, her hands nervously fidgeting in her lap. Her eyes darted around the room, as though searching for anything to ease the tension between you. The hesitation in her every movement reminded you of the last time you'd seen her, months ago in the tunnel before the Arsenal vs. Barça match. Except now, the space between you wasn't physical. It was everything unsaid, everything left unresolved.

You shifted slightly, clearing your throat. "We should probably... talk. About everything."

Alexia looked at you then, her lips parting before pressing together again. She nodded slowly. "Sí... I think so, too."

You tried to figure out where to start, running a hand through your hair. "Why did you come here, Ale?"

Her gaze dropped to her hands. "I told you... not only for you. But... you know."

Your lips quirked up at her obvious tell. "You're a terrible liar."

That made her look up, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. "Okay... maybe I come for you. But... I want to see how you are. In person."

"And?" you prompted softly, leaning forward slightly.

"And... I miss you," she admitted, her accent making the words heavier. "I say on the phone, but I miss you more... more than I can say."

Your heart clenched, a familiar ache creeping into your chest. "I miss you too, Alexia. But... we ended things for a reason. Do you remember why?"

Her brows furrowed. "Because... because we are not... how do you say? Good?"

You nodded. "We weren't in a good place. We were barely even talking by the end. Do you think that's changed? Just because we've had some time apart?"

Alexia was quiet for a moment, her hands tightening into fists. "I think... we have changed. I have changed. I think about you every day. And now... I talk with you again, and it feels good. Not like before."

Her words tugged at something inside you. "It feels good because we're not dealing with the hard stuff anymore, Ale. We've only talked about surface-level things. Football, our days, things like that. We haven't addressed the problems we had."

"But we can talk now," she insisted, scooting closer to you on the couch. "I want to talk. I want to... try again."

You sighed, leaning back. "Ale, it's not that simple. Trying again isn't just about wanting it to work. We have to figure out if we even can make it work."

She frowned, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to reach for you but held herself back. "You... you think we cannot?"

"I don't know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her gaze on you. "I really don't. I mean, I still love you—"

"You do?" she interrupted, her voice a mixture of surprise and hope.

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Of course I do. But love wasn't enough before, was it? We still ended up falling apart."

Alexia leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she looked down. "Because... because I was not good. Not... not there for you."

"It wasn't just you, Alexia," you said quickly. "I wasn't good either. I shut down when things got hard. I didn't fight for us like I should have."

She shook her head. "No, no... I should have fought more. For you. For us. I... I was scared. Scared I lose you, so I stay quiet. But that... that was wrong."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and you felt your heart break a little more. "We were both scared," you admitted. "But fear doesn't fix anything."

Alexia looked up then, her eyes glassy but determined. "So... we try again? No fear this time."

You hesitated, the logical part of your brain clashing with the part of you that wanted so desperately to pull her into your arms. "What if we fail again?" you whispered.

"Then we fail," she said simply. "But at least... at least we know we try. No... regrets."

Her words hung in the air, and you realized just how much you wanted to believe her. To believe that you could try again and make it work this time.

After a long pause, you reached out, your fingers brushing hers. "Okay," you said softly. "We can try. But we have to promise to talk this time. About everything. No shutting down."

Alexia's hand turned to clasp yours tightly. "I promise. No... no more hiding. We talk, always.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "And no more avoiding each other when things get tough."

"Sí. No more," she agreed, a hint of a smile breaking through her serious expression.

For the first time in months, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter. You squeezed her hand, and without thinking, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around her. Alexia froze for a second before she melted into you, her arms tightening around your waist.

The week Alexia stayed with you passed in a haze of soft moments and cautious steps forward. Neither of you were trying to rush anything, and maybe that was what made it feel so different this time. There was no pressure to immediately fix everything or pretend like the last few months hadn't happened. You were starting fresh, and it felt... right.

Alexia fit into your small London flat in a way that surprised you. She had her little routines: making coffee in the morning with a focus so intense you'd think she was preparing for a match, leaving her jacket casually draped over the back of the chair despite your protests, and humming softly under her breath as she scrolled through her phone. It was so familiar, yet so new.

You spent most of the week together, rediscovering the rhythm of just being in each other's presence. Sometimes you went out, grabbing coffee or walking through the bustling streets of London. Other times, you stayed in, talking about anything and everything—or just sitting together in a comfortable silence.

Alexia did have meetings, and while she insisted they were important, you quickly pieced together that most of them could have been handled remotely. When she wasn't with you, she was calling someone from Barça or scrolling through emails. But her focus always seemed to shift back to you, and it became clear she hadn't come to London because of work. She had come for you.

On her last full day in London, you decided to introduce her to Beth. It wasn't a decision you'd made lightly, but Beth had been your closest confidante during your time at Arsenal, and part of you wanted her to see this side of your life. Alexia had been such a big part of it for so long, and though it felt strange to merge the two worlds, you wanted to try.

Beth greeted you both with her usual warmth, pulling you into a hug before giving Alexia a curious, appraising glance. "So, you're the infamous Alexia," she said, her tone teasing but kind.

Alexia smiled shyly. "I... guess so. Nice to meet you, Beth."

Beth grinned. "Likewise. Heard a lot about you, you know."

Alexia glanced at you, a faint blush creeping up her neck. "Good things... I hope?"

Beth winked at you. "Mostly good."

The three of you settled into an easy rhythm, and you were relieved to see how naturally Alexia interacted with Beth. It wasn't forced or awkward; it was as if they'd known each other for ages. When Leah arrived unexpectedly at Beth's apartment, though, that quickly changed.

"Leah," you greeted softly, stepping forward slightly.

"Hi," she replied, her tone polite but guarded. Her gaze lingered on Alexia for a beat too long before she glanced back at you. "Didn't know you were bringing... company."

Alexia offered Leah a polite nod. "Hello. I am Alexia."

Leah hesitated for half a second before nodding back. "Leah. Nice to meet you."

The atmosphere was tense, and you felt the weight of it pressing against your chest. "I'll, uh, help Beth in the kitchen," you mumbled, slipping away to give Leah and Alexia a moment to adjust to each other's presence.

Beth cornered you the moment you were out of earshot. "Well, this is awkward, isn't it?"

"Beth," you hissed, narrowing your eyes at her.

"I'm just saying," she teased, her voice low. "You're brave, I'll give you that."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Can we just... not make this harder than it already is?"

Beth softened at your obvious distress. "Okay, okay. I'll play nice. But Leah—"

"I'll handle it," you interrupted quickly, not wanting to dwell on the topic.

When it was time to leave, you pulled Leah aside. You'd been hesitant about how to approach her all day, but you couldn't leave without saying something.

"Hey," you said softly, stopping her just as she was about to head back into the kitchen.

Leah turned to you, her expression unreadable. "Yeah?"

You didn't think too hard about it. Instead, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around her. At first, she didn't respond, but then her arms came up to hug you back, albeit briefly.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

"For what?" she asked, pulling back to look at you.

"For everything," you admitted. "For hurting you. For how things ended. For... bringing Alexia here."

Leah's lips twitched into a faint smile. "It's okay. Really. I've moved on."

You nodded, though the guilt still lingered in your chest. "You're still one of my closest friends, Leah. I hope you know that."

"I do," she said, her voice soft but steady. "And I'm happy for you, by the way. If she makes you happy, then that's all that matters."

You hugged her one last time before returning to Alexia, who was waiting by the door. Her gaze flicked between you and Leah, her jaw tightening ever so slightly.

"Ready?" you asked, grabbing your coat.

Alexia nodded, but as you walked to the car, she finally broke her silence. "She is... important to you?"

You glanced at her, surprised by the question. "Leah? Yeah, she is. We're good friends."

Alexia's expression didn't change, but you caught the subtle shift in her posture. "You were... more than friends before, no?"

You sighed, unlocking the car. "Yeah, we were. For a while."

"And now?" she pressed, her voice carefully neutral.

"Now we're just friends," you said firmly, turning to face her. "That's all, Ale."

Alexia nodded, though you could tell it hadn't entirely eased her mind. "Okay."

That night, the weight of her impending departure settled over you both. After dinner, you found yourselves back on the couch, sitting closer than you had at the start of the week. Alexia's hand rested on your knee, her thumb tracing absent patterns through the fabric of your joggers.

"I don't want to leave," she admitted suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You looked at her, a soft smile gracing your lips. "I don't want you to leave either."

She smiled sadly. "But we have to talk. About... how we do this.”

You nodded, shifting to face her more fully. "Yeah. Long distance isn't easy."

"No," she agreed. "But... I think we can do it. If we try."

You hesitated. "Ale, I'm not leaving Arsenal. Not anytime soon."

"I know," she said quickly. "And I... I cannot leave Barça. It is my home."

"I'd never ask you to," you assured her. "But that means we'd only see each other... what? A handful of times a year?"

Her brows furrowed as she thought. "Not so few. We can make time. I can come here, or you come to Barcelona... in breaks."

"And what about during the season?" you asked. "We'd both be so busy. Training, games, travel. How would we make it work then?"

Alexia bit her lip. "We talk. Every day, if we can. And when we cannot... we know we are still together. We trust each other."

It sounded simple, almost too simple. But the determination in her voice made you pause. "You really think that's enough?"

Her hand slid up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing softly against your skin. "I think... if we want this, we find a way. You and me... we are worth it."

The sincerity in her words made your chest ache. You leaned into her touch, closing your eyes for a moment. "I want this," you admitted. "I want us."

Alexia's lips curved into a small, hopeful smile. "Then we try."

You nodded, opening your eyes to meet hers. "We try."

She leaned forward then, her forehead resting against yours. The moment was quiet, intimate, and filled with a sense of hope you hadn't felt in a long time. You didn't know if this would work, but for the first time, you believed it was worth the effort.

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas x you #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x y/n #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso appreciation #woso one shot #woso fanfics

364 notes · View notes

delphi-shield · 2 days ago

Text

— 「 BODYGUARD 」

lighter lorenz x reader — 2.2k summary: you're not his responsibility (not yet), but the guilt will eat him alive if he doesn't get your drunk ass home safely. content: lighter's pov, vomit, alcohol use, sappy lighter, jealous lighter beyonce's bodyguard is so him to me i can't do this anymore fellas

You call; he answers.

Some things in life are just that simple. Lighter tries to keep it that way for you.

You don’t normally call in the middle of the night, though. Lighter doesn’t mind – honest, he doesn’t. He had been tossing and turning since he laid down, passing the time by picking open old wounds, letting the regret sting the raw edges. It takes time to realize that the ringing isn’t in his ears, that he’s flat on his back in bed, not in the ring. He almost ignores the call, but when he rolls over and sees your name flickering back at him, he dives to pick up before the last ring.

You're silent on the other line, nothing but muffled talking and rustling against the microphone. All sorts of scenarios race through his head. You're stuck somewhere - trapped in a hollow, or cornered by a rival gang. His past has caught up to him, mired you in all this ick. His stomach turns.

Adrenaline works way better than caffeine and he’s known that for a while, but he wishes he wasn’t so familiar with the helplessness that grips him. Lighter sits up, swings his legs over the side of his bed, poised to run to you.

It’s nothing so serious. When you finally get your phone up to your face and greet him with a (too loud, too sloppy) ‘hey!’ it becomes painfully obvious. You're drunk. That's what all of this is about.

Lighter needles the details out of you bit by bit, trying to glean information from your ramblings. Stranded out in Badger Springs. You met some guy out there for a date, he went to the bathroom and didn’t come back. You don’t laugh when he offers to deck the guy, and he can’t tell if you’re really torn up about this or if you just didn’t hear him.

Lighter pinches the bridge of his nose. He exhales long and low, away from the mic. He shouldn't encourage this. Can't keep bailing you out every time you get yourself in a sticky situation. But the thought of you drunkenly stumbling around the Outer Ring, bumbling your way into real trouble, has him fumbling to get his arms through his jacket.

“Stay put. I’ll be right there.”

Badger Springs. Seriously? Why’d you have to go so far out? What was so wrong with getting a drink in Blazewood?

Irritation pricks at him, has his hands feeling staticky even when he grips the handlebars of his bike. You probably went out there so no one would interrupt your date. What, were you trying to hide it? Did the girls know about this? No. No way. You would have called one of them to pick you up if that were the case. Right? You weren’t trying to hide it from him, not specifically.

He has a long ride ahead to stew about it, to knot the meaning of your actions into ugly shapes and then smooth them out, only to twist it all up again another mile down the road. This wouldn’t have happened - he kicks the stand down on his bike - if he’d manned up, if he’d asked you to watch the movie he’d rented. (New release, independently produced, apparently based off some old civilization tapes that had only been spoken about in a scant few records - some horror flick called Seen that you had been raving about. Not his thing, but your eyes lit up when you spoke about it. He figured he could just watch you during the bloody parts.)

But he didn’t ask, and now he’s here, freezing his ass off in the middle of the night, parked outside this shithole bar, two towns over. The bar is a dump. Looks like your date couldn’t even take you anywhere nice. You’re off by yourself at the end of the bar, shoulders drawn in close, crowding over your drink. At least the regulars are leaving you alone. A quick look around tells him that there’s too many people in this place for it to be a quick fight, if it came down to that.

He strolls past tables and booths, lets his hand fall heavy on your shoulder. You jump, turning sluggishly to look up at him - eyes wide and red. C’mon - don’t tell him you’ve been crying over this prick. Your expression smooths the moment that you recognize him.

“Lighter!” Your arms fling around his middle, squeeze him tightly.

The tide of adrenaline that he washed in on pulls back, drags his relief away. Anger shores up, quick and sudden. It soothes in another pulse of his heart; understanding. It's kind of flattering if he doesn't think about it too hard. You trusted him enough to come pick you up. Probably couldn't even think clearly - just knew you wanted to go home. Knew he would get you there, safe and sound. Not a bad prize for driving all the way out here; he tries to enshrine this moment in his memory. Later, trying to fall asleep in his room, he’ll feel like a sleaze for delighting in being your hero like this.

He pats the top of your head, takes advantage of the distraction to wave the bartender over, check if you’ve still got an open tab. He slips him a couple extra denny for the trouble, keeps you distracted and talking with carefully placed ‘oh, really?’s and ‘mhm’s.

"You're wasted, huh?"

“Not that bad.”

You sound confident. He steps back, lets you hop off the bar stool on your own. Lighter hooks a thumb in his pocket. He drums his fingers against his thighs, watching you sway back and forth in front of him. Your eyes are hazy and unfocused, looking in his general direction with a dopey grin on your face.

Pride feels better than anger. He latches onto that. You make it so easy to feel when you cling onto his arm, lean into him. He keeps you close, ignores the whispers he overhears about the Red Scarf. His step quickens. He’s not getting into any trouble, not when he’s here for you.

You struggle to keep up, all uncoordinated limbs, your head probably spinning. He helps you onto the back of his bike and passes you a helmet. He’d grabbed it on his way out - figured if you were as trashed as you sounded on the phone then it was better safe than sorry. He’s glad he did.

Somewhere along the ride home, you stopped babbling. He had felt your words pressed against his back more than he had heard them. He stops just before home to check on you. Can’t have you falling asleep. He doesn’t want to hear it about riding in with you all banged up on the back - he’d never let it down. He’d never let himself live it down, more accurately, but his bike starts back up before you hear that part.

Honestly, he’s almost positive you won’t remember much past when you first called him. That doesn’t stop him from treating you gently. He helps you off his bike, keeps your hand in his to guide you around stray milk crates and cacti that just seemed to leap into your path.

It’s just a little further. He’s almost got you back to your place when he hears it. That ominous groan. Your face pallid, cold sweat breaking out against your forehead.

“Gonna throw up?” He asks, big hand rubbing slow circles on your back.

You shake your head, the force of it knocking you off balance. You would have stumbled right into a cactus if he hadn’t hauled you into his side by the back of your shirt. (Like scruffing a kitten, he catches himself thinking. Cute.)

He tries to guide you to the closest trash can, but you can’t quite make it. Your legs are quaking, all the strength sapped from you while you expel that contents of your stomach into one of Old Demir’s flower pots. He gathers your hair back from your face gently, caging it all in one hand to rub your back with the other. Somewhere between gentle coos of ‘there you go’ and ‘let it all out’, he manages to make out your garbled apology. You thread it between heaves, between sobs, but he catches it all the same and shushes you for it.

“All better?” He asks when the dry heaving has stopped. You nod slowly. The tiniest whimper he’s ever heard drifts from your lips. He knows from experience that much more movement than that will hurt.

Lighter sighs. The scent of your perfume curdles with the stench of vomit. He arranges your hair back as best he can, trying to replicate the way you had done yourself up - all pretty for another man, he remembers. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, and he pulls the end of his scarf free.

“No, Lighter–”

Your hands are clumsy. He dodges your attempts to stop him easily. He clicks his tongue and swipes the vomit from your chin. “Don’t worry about it. This scarf has seen worse.”

It’s about time to get it cleaned, anyway. Add that to his growing list of chores.

You’re moving slower than before. He tucks you into his side to give you some more stability. When you pause at the steps to your place, he sweeps an arm under your knees, cradles you close to him. He had expected a protest, or an apology - something in line with the rest of your behavior this evening, but you curl closer to him.

It’s a fumble to find your keys - shifting your weight from one arm to the other until he finally finds them in your back pocket. He knows your place well enough to dodge the shoes left in the entrance way, to step around the box that sticks out into the hallway from your bedroom. He settles you into your bed, rolls you onto your side - just to be safe.

Lighter keeps watch for a few moments, making sure you’re not going to roll onto your back, pressing the back of his hand against your sweat-chilled forehead. Once he’s certain the worst has passed, he leaves to fill a glass of water for you. Your eyes are half-open when he gets back. He draws up a chair, tries to figure out how to ask if you want his help changing into something more comfortable without sounding like a creep.

You rip that idea from his head when you blindside him with a question.

“D’you think it’s my fault?”

“Course not,” Lighter answers before he can even put together what you’re asking. “Everyone has too much fun sometimes. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re not even gonna remember this.”

“No, I mean…” You curl tightly around your pillow. He could have sworn he heard a hitch in your voice. His heart lurches. Christ, you can’t start crying now. He can’t take it. “Why would he just leave?”

Lighter has to remind himself not to pull a face. Not what you need right now. He’s already said too much. He’s just going to wind up upsetting you more. He wants to tell you that guy is a douchebag, that none of it had been your fault. The guy just wasn’t man enough to be upfront. That was all.

“I just don’t think I’m meant for this,” you whisper. His train of thought crashes abruptly. "Like– love, and stuff.”

“You’re so much fun to be in love with,” Lighter says, and if you were sober you would clock him for just how quickly he did so, “and someday, someone’s gonna see that.”

“How do you know?”

Because my heart feels like it’s buckled into a roller coaster and I can’t figure out if I’m having fun or if I’m scared shitless. Because I’ve got eyes. Because it’s you.

He can’t say any of that. Not now, while you’re shivering and small, a little bundle of raw nerves that he rescued from some dump. Christ, you really are a kitten right now. He chucks your chin with a knuckle, his smile twisting to something bittersweet.

“C’mon. You should know not to bet against me by now.”

For the first time since he got you through the door, you smile. Barely there and flimsy, but you’re only just clinging to consciousness. Your cheek presses back against your pillow, eyes slipping shut.

“Thanks, Lighter,” you murmur.

You’re out cold within the next minute.

Lighter lingers overlong. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be in your room while you’re passed out like this, but he can’t bring himself to rise. His shoulders hunch, expression dropping, stomach churning. Through your window, dawn is just beginning to break. The Outer Ring is bathed in a cool blue light, the horizon tinging purple at the edges.

You have a hell of a morning ahead of you. He runs a hand down his face and forces himself to stand, to get his day started properly. Another sleepless night. Maybe the next time he finds himself awake, staring at the ceiling and tormenting himself, he’ll call you first. Maybe he’ll do it before anyone else has a chance to.

Lighter locks your door on his way out and tucks the key under your mat. He should act. He should tell you.

He walks back to his place in silence, resisting the urge to grab his phone, to text you and say let me know if you need anything.

Maybe one day.

#lighter lorenz x reader #lighter x reader #zzz fluff #zzz x reader #lighter fluff #lighter lorenz fluff #zzz lighter x reader

274 notes · View notes

frenchkisstheabyss · 2 days ago

Text

♡ ｓｗｅｅｔｎｅｒ ♡

♡ Pairing: couple!woosan x best friend!fem!reader, best friend!ateez

♡ Genre: fluff/smut/angst

♡ Summary: After a terrible breakup two of your dearest friends welcomed you into their home. Living with them has been a total dream so far, one that has you developing feelings you aren't quite ready to face but, when a dinner with your friend group forces you to confront those feelings, you realize that you might not be the only one who has them.

♡ Word Count: 6.8kish

♡ Warnings: woo and san are indeed a couple, boys kissing, kissing in general, drinking, threesome, lots of praise, unprotected sex, soft dom woosan, oral sex (m&f receving), some clit play, nipple play, nibbling, hickeys, a lil manhandling, double penetration, creampie, swallowing, finger sucking, some booty slaps, overstimulation, squirting, pet names (sweetie, baby, sweetheart, good girl, etc), and that's all darlings.

♡ A/N: I really wanted to write a nice, warm lil comfort fic and this was the result of that. As I always say, I hope you sweet baby darlings enjoy this. Especially my WooSan babes out there.

When you first decided to move in with Wooyoung and San everyone warned you that it might not be the best idea. The two of them had been dating for years at that point and, though you knew them just as long, being best friends with a couple is much different than living with one. They had their own habits, their own unique dynamic, and the introduction of a single woman into the mix might have thrown it off in ways that irreversibly damaged your friendship.

For all the worries that people planted into your brain, the reality of the situation was drastically different. From the night you moved your last box into their spare bedroom you felt like you were home. They were doing you a major favor, letting you move in after a terrible breakup with your ex, but they never made you feel like it. Instead they welcomed you with open arms, immediately jumping to do everything in their power to make sure you felt comfortable.

During those first few weeks you made it a point to shrink yourself, not wanting to take up too much space or get in their way. They quickly reassured you that it wasn’t necessary. If they didn’t want you there you wouldn’t have been there. You could take up as much space as you wanted, get in their way whenever you pleased. They were just happy to have you.

Before you knew it the three of you were doing everything together. Cooking each other breakfast before work, curling up on the couch for movie nights, staying up late to talk about whatever popped into your heads. It reached the point that you hardly had to make your own bed because of the endless nights you found yourself dozing off in theirs.

Woo and San always treated you like a princess, living with them wasn’t a requirement for that, but after you moved in it got so much worse. You had to argue them down to let you do dishes or wash your own clothes. You didn’t even try when it came to carrying in bags after grocery shopping. You knew if you did you’d never hear the end of it from either of them. Even now as you sit at the elegantly decorated table of an upscale restaurant—all of your closest friends gathered for the usual Saturday night dinner—they won’t let you lift a finger.

With Woo on one side of you and San on the other, you only have to extend your hand towards something you want and it's yours. A particularly crispy cut of pork belly catches your eye and before you know it Woo’s swooped it up with his chopsticks.

“Woo, you didn’t have to do that” you whisper beneath the chatter of conversation at the table.

“Hmm? Did you say something?” he asks, knowing very well that he heard you. He raises it to your lips, patiently waiting for you to take a bite.

You stare at it for a moment, refusing to eat it solely because of the entertainment that comes with testing Woo’s patience. San drapes his arm over the back of your chair, replenishing the tall crystal glass before you with sweet red wine.

“Eat it or he’ll get all sulky” San teases, cutting his eyes at his boyfriend whose lips have already begun to form a pout.

“I do not get sulky” Woo protests, indeed sulking. He’s cute when he does it, knowledge that he weaponizes every chance he gets.

You and San look at each other, sharing a giggle, before you give in and take a bite. Woo watches as you chew, making sure that you enjoy it. If you don’t he’ll get you another.

“Happy?” you smile once you’re done and Woo nods, returning his attention back to his own plate.

Across the table Hongjoong watches you curiously, something you’ve caught him doing all night. No one else seems to notice but for you it can’t be ignored. The two of you lock eyes and he asks you a question without words. You wish he’d use them, spit out whatever the hell is on his mind already, because the tension’s eating you alive.

“So does anyone know what we’re doing for New Year’s Eve or is it party at Seonghwa’s?” Yunho asks, gesturing for Jongho to hand him a dish.

Seonghwa frowns, his cheeks too packed full of food to speak clearly, “My house? Why my house?”

“Ooh, yeah, then I can come over and touch all your stuff” Mingi says, attempting to swipe some food from Seonghwa’s plate.

Seonghwa slaps him on the back of the hand with his chopsticks, “I’ll kill you.”

“We could all go camping,” Jongho suggests, “I know a really good spot for it.”

The table falls silent with the exception of Yeosang who nods in support of the younger man. “That’s…an idea.”

“We can host this year” San offers, flashing that dimpled smile, “We have the room for it.”

Hongjoong takes a sip of his wine, his icy glare falling upon you and only you. “Are you sure? Don’t you think your apartment’s gotten kinda crowded lately?”

The comment strikes a chord with Woo, his irritation apparent in how swiftly his demeanor shifts. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” he asks, chewing at his bottom lip.

“Nothing…it’s nothing” Hongjoong laughs, sitting back in his chair, “Maybe I should keep my comments to myself.”

“Maybe you should…” Woo snaps.

San clears his throat, rising from the table before the situation can escalate, “I have to go make a quick call. Baby, could you come with me?”

Woo doesn’t respond and he isn’t pretending to be hard of hearing this time. He and Hongjoong are having a staring contest. A silent war as violent as if someone had thrown a punch.

“Wooyoung!” San says with more bass in his voice this time. It’s enough to snap Woo out of it but he still lingers a moment before getting up himself.

Taking you by the hand, Woo stares down at you, searching your face for any sign that Hongjoong’s words hurt your feelings. “You’ll be okay?”

You nod, presenting him with a smile that you hope soothes him a bit. “I’m okay. Just go.”

San pets your hair, planting a kiss on your forehead, “Be back in a second.”

You watch as San walks Woo outside like a mother about to lay into her child for misbehaving. As calm as you’ve remained all night, you can’t hide your own irritation at the way Hongjoong’s been acting. It isn’t Woo’s fault that he decided to say something so rude. Whatever problem he has with you is with you. Woo and San shouldn’t be a part of it.

Turning back to the table you find that all conversation of a New Year’s Eve celebration has ended. Everyone’s dead silent, unsure of what to say, if there’s anything to say at all.

“If you have something to say to me, why not just say it?” you ask, “Or are we just intent on acting like children tonight?”

“This meal is delicious, isn’t it? Really. I know we come here all the time but there’s something about it tonight” Yunho interrupts in an attempt to keep the peace.

Seonghwa shakes his head at him, his own history as the peacemaker teaching him that it’s not worth it. When Hongjoong’s in a mood he’s in a mood and there’s nothing to be said about it.

Hongjoong shrugs, poking around at his plate, “I don’t have anything to say really. I’m just curious—I think we all are—about what’s going on here.”

Your eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion, “What are you talking about?”

Hongjoong looks to Woo’s seat then to San’s and right back at you, the girl at the center of it all. “I know we’re all close but the way you three have been acting lately goes a little beyond close. You can’t blame us for thinking…”

“Thinking what?” You look around the table, hoping that one of your friends will jump in and tell Hongjoong how silly he’s being. Instead they avert eye contact. They treat you like you’re a stranger and, in the world of the secret whisperings among them, that’s exactly what you are. It takes a moment for Hongjoong’s words to make sense. He said something without saying it and it’s clear he’s not the only person with that on the tip of their tongue.

The moment it hits you, your palms begin to sweat, the air around you growing hotter. You try your best to act clueless, pretending to have no idea where they’d get these ideas from. It’s not because you have anything to hide. Nothing has happened between the three of you and nothing will. But sometimes you’ve felt it—a tingle when Woo’s holding your hand or those butterflies when you’re cuddled up with San. It’s a purely platonic act on their part, there’s nothing more to it, but the feelings are there whether you like it or not and the idea that anyone else can see it is frightening.

“You can’t be serious. You don’t think…they’re my best friends, like we all are. There’s nothing…they don’t even like girls” you stutter, a shaky hand reaching for the neck of your wine glass.

Yeosang’s eyes widen at your declaration and he has to reach for a glass of water to keep from choking on his food.

Mingi quirks his head at you, shooting a quick glance at Hongjoong. “Who told you that?”

“Told me what?”

Jongho laughs to himself, tickled by this exchange. “That they don’t like girls.”

“But they don’t. They’re gay.”

“Oh, honey” Hongjoong sighs, letting up on you for the first time tonight, “We thought you were just playing it up. You really are clueless.”

You open your mouth to say something more, you aren’t even sure what that is, but the feeling of San’s hand on your shoulder makes you swallow your words.

“What are we talking about?” he asks, taking his seat at your side. He looks to you only, picking up on your nervousness in an instant. His face turns serious and you place a gentle hand on his knee, softening him if only a bit.

“Everything okay?” you ask, swiftly changing the subject.

San leans in closer to you, pinning you down to your seat without even touching you. “I don’t know, is it?”

Woo swats him away from you, having already gotten his fill of his boyfriend’s lecturing outside. He doesn’t need him doing it to you too. “San, please. You told me I had to play nice. That goes for both of us, doesn’t it?”

San backs off, as much as he hates to do it. He knows something is up but, at the risk of being a hypocrite, he lets it go. The conversation quickly switches back to discussions about parties—who else they’ll invite and who’ll do all the cooking—yet you can’t bring yourself to care about any of it. In your mind there’s only a loop of Hongjoong’s comment.

“Oh, honey. We thought you were just playing it up. You really are clueless.”

“You’ve had too much to drink. I’m driving you home” Jongho says, stealing Mingi’s car keys.

“I’m fine. Trust me.” Mingi makes a half-hearted attempt at stealing them back but he’s in no shape to do it. He’s swaying back and forth, his cheeks tinted a rosy pink courtesy of those last three shots of soju.

Gathered outside of the restaurant, your group lingers by the door, saying your goodbyes and trying to reel in the drunkest among you. It’s a clear night, the type that's perfect for counting stars, but you’re too busy freezing to revel in the magic of it. Earlier you left your jacket in the car, not thinking much of it until you stumbled out of the restaurant into an actual freezer.

San slips out of his jacket, draping it over your shoulders and giving your arms a quick rub to warm them up. “Look after this for me while I go grab the car.”

As San ventures off to find the car, Woo steps in front of you, coming in close to block the wind.

“Goodnight you two” Hongjoong sings, winking at you over Woo’s shoulder.

You groan and Woo lets out a skeptical “Goodnight” waving to the others until there’s only the two of you left. When his gaze drifts back to you, you try not to make eye contact but you can’t resist it. His eyes shimmer so gorgeously in the moonlight that it’s impossible not to be taken by them.

Rubbing his hands together, he presses them to your cheeks, squishing them together enough that you look like a little fish. Definitely the cutest fish he’s ever seen. It was his intention to warm you up but he has no clue how hot you burn for him, as hard as you try to fight it.

“I don’t know if I told you this but you look beautiful tonight” he says, taking you in from head to toe, “That dress especially. It's lovely”

The dress in question, a black lace up mini dress, is indeed lovely. You’d ordered it on a whim during a late night shopping session and have been dying to wear it for weeks. When San suggested that you all match for dinner tonight, black on black all the way, you figured there was no time like the present. It’s more revealing than you’re used to and some part of you questioned if you should wear it or not but Woo’s complement did all that was needed to melt your doubts away.

“You do too” you blush, straightening out his tie, “You look fancy.”

Woo tries to play it off but it’s always much too obvious when he’s flattered. “I try. You’ll always be the prettiest one in the room but I have to try to give you some competition, don’t I?”

“Are you attempting to flatter me, Wooyoung?”

Woo moves closer to you, his breath tickling your face as he speaks, “I don’t know. Am I?”

It’s back. That tingle you feel whenever Woo does something like this. You feel it in the tips of your fingers and your toes. Soon it’ll spread everywhere else, overtaking you, and there’s not a single thing you can do about it. The longer he stares at you the worse it’ll be. He’s sealing your fate, damning you to a night spent trying to chase these feelings away.

“Are you gonna get in or do you two plan to walk home?” San shouts, honking the horn.

You let out a sigh of relief. You’ve been saved. Just barely.

“Does your boyfriend know you’re picking up men from random street corners?” Woo jokes, turning to greet San.

San leans over, pushing the passenger’s side door open, “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

Woo laughs, doubling back to grab you, “You ride in the front tonight, okay, beautiful?”

It’s a question that isn’t a question. You always ride shotgun—they insist upon it—so you hop into the car before Woo’s tempted to scoop you up and set you in there himself. He will do it.

Tossing himself into the back, Woo slams the door closed, spreading out across the seat as the car hums down the city street. It’s a quiet, peaceful ride and it only occurs to you after a few minutes that it’s strangely quiet. There’s always a debrief after dinner. Woo never misses out on the chance to gossip with you and San lives for it even though he’s fond of pretending he doesn’t but tonight’s different. Something’s off.

You switch on the radio, hoping that the introduction of a little music will keep your mind from wandering, but San flicks it off the moment that you do.

“When we came back to the table, what were you talking about?” he asks, catching you off guard. San’s not the type to let things go, you’ve always known that, but you thought maybe this time you'd luck out. You thought wrong.

Woo sits up, combing his dark hair back from his face, “San, don’t start.”

“I’m not starting” he swears, “I’m just curious. Don’t tell me you aren’t.”

“Well…” Woo muses, cutting his eyes over at you, “It would be nice to know. I mean, we don’t keep secrets from each other, right?”

You stare out of the window, unable to face either of them. Woo’s right, you don’t keep secrets. Maybe a long time ago it would’ve been forgivable to keep some things to yourself but now? The three of you have gotten so close that it seems almost blasphemous to lie to them.

“The guys think that there’s something going on between the three of us…” you spill out and you’d swear you sucked all of the air from the car.

“Oh…”

That’s all you’re left with. Now you have to look at them. You have to see their faces and know that you haven’t upset them. “I told them that there wasn’t though! The only thing between us is friendship. That’s it.”

“Is that what you told them or is that how you feel?” Woo asks and San does nothing to stop him.

You let out a nervous laugh, convinced that he’s messing with you. “Woo, I’m being serious.”

San takes a deep breath, fingers tapping at the steering wheel as you approach a red light. “So are we.”

“So…” Woo says, his words more deliberate this time, “Is that what you told them or is that how you feel?”

There’s so much weight to that question—almost too much for you to handle. After your breakup you were a total wreck. It felt like someone had torn your heart out and ripped it to pieces. How couldn’t it belong to them when they were the ones who put it back together?

“What if what I feel is wrong?” you ask, the rush of emotion forcing your voice to crack.

San holds his hand out to you and you feel a sense of calm wash over you as you take it. He interlocks his fingers with yours, planting slow sweet kisses along the back of your hand. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you feel, sweetheart.”

Woo caresses your cheek, his chin propped up on the back of your chair as he studies you from the backseat. “We feel it too” he sighs, taken by your beauty, “You’re an easy girl to fall for.”

“Woo” you giggle, your gaze falling to your lap where your free hand’s fidgeting with the lace trim of your dress.

“Stop it, baby, you’re embarrassing her” San says, coming to your rescue as usual.

“Embarrassing her how? She knows how perfect she is” Woo coos, pinching your cheek, “I tell her everyday.” Settling back into his seat, he digs his phone out of his pocket, flicking it on to scroll through his notifications.

San winks at you, raising your hand to his lips to give it one last kiss. He goes back to driving so casually that you’re left wondering if everything that just happened was all in your head. It’s the strangest thing, how they can be so laid back about a confession that’s turned your world upside down—changed everything you knew in an instant. Maybe it’s because they always knew.

When Woo and San first met they knew the two of them belonged together. Their bond was something they never had to question, it simply was the way things were supposed to be. And when you entered the picture it was no different. You moving in only cemented it. You belonged there with them—in their home, in their arms. They’d love you, protect you, do everything in their power to put a smile on that beautiful face.

Just like the one you have now. The one Woo keeps catching in the rearview mirror and San keeps seeing out of the corner of his eye. Woo wasn’t lying. You are a very easy girl to fall for. They’re doing it right now.

To anyone who knows you, visiting your apartment makes for a fun game. Your arrival here led to a little redecorating on Woo and San’s part. They insisted on moving some things around to make room for what you loved. If you saw a lamp you wanted, if there was a painting you had your eye on, anything at all and it was yours.

So whenever one of the guys is over and a new piece is spotted they like to bet who it belongs to. An easy task at first, it’s grown much more difficult over time. “It’s like you’re becoming the same person” Yeosang will say in a spooky voice, experiencing what might be actual fear of who’s becoming a clone of who. He loves you all but multiples of any of you is a recipe for disaster.

Your friends’ teasing aside, you love the place you call home. This cozy two bedroom is a seamless fusion of the three of you. It’s your safe place. Where you all run back to for comfort after a long day out in the world. All night it’s sat undisturbed, awaiting your return, and your grand entrance doesn’t disappoint.

The apartment door pushes open, flooding the dimly lit apartment with a choppy but spirited rendition of one of Woo’s favorite songs. He’s been playing it nonstop for the past two weeks and during the last half of the ride home he stole the aux cord to force you both to listen. Blame the alcohol or call it brainwashing but you and San were feeling it tonight. So much that you sang and danced your way from the parking garage, probably waking up the whole neighborhood.

Singing a lyric even you’re shocked you remember, you do a little shuffle, kicking your heels off at the door. San does a shimmy behind you, dropping his next to yours. Woo grabs you by the arm, pulling you into his, and you bring San right along with you. You’ve had enough of these late night dance sessions—more than any of you will admit—for your bodies to be totally in sync as you dance around the apartment.

Taking you by the hand, San twirls you in a circle and that last sip of wine kicks in immediately, the room still spinning even after you’ve stopped. Luckily Woo’s quick on his feet, catching you from behind.

“Clumsy much?” he cackles, arms looped around your waist.

You spin around, scrunching your face up at him, “Do you think you’re funny? Cause you’re not.”

You feel San’s arms close around you from the other side. His muscles make every hug a bear hug and you’ve never minded one bit.

“You’re prettier when you aren’t being a brat” he says, fingertips tracing the immaculate outline of Woo’s cheek.

Woo nuzzles into his touch like a cat being scratched at just the right spot. “So you think I’m pretty?”

“And a brat” San makes a point of saying, “But pretty? Definitely.”

Woo and San flirting is nothing new to you, you’ve seen it enough that it doesn’t even phase you, but this is the first time you’ve ever been in the middle of it. Physically wedged between them, feeling their temperatures rise as San cups Woo’s face and leans in for a kiss.

Good manners dictate that you shouldn’t stare but you aren’t sure what else you can be expected to do. Their lips look so fluffy as they meet. They kiss each other with equal parts desire and restraint. Their longing for each other radiates off of them and soaks into you. But that longing’s not only theirs, it’s yours too. Something new has been awakened inside of you and it has your heart racing.

San draws in a breath as their lips part, a light chuckle leaving him at the star crossed look in your eyes. “You know…” he hums, his hand finding your throat, “We’ve always wondered what your lips taste like.” His thumb brushes your chin, tilting your head so that your lips graze his. “Can I taste them?”

A floaty “Yes” leaves your lips and time seems to slow to a crawl as he lulls you into a kiss that has the room spinning again. His lips are as soft as they appeared and he pours into you that same desire, that same longing. Restraint? Now that’s a different story. The deeper he kisses you—his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth—the harder it is to hold back.

“You can’t have her all to yourself” Woo says, tugging San’s hair to break the kiss, “I want some of her too.”

You hardly have a chance to recover from San’s kiss when Woo’s pressing his lips to yours, making you feel light headed all over again. He floods you with more of the same feelings but there’s something different about the way that he kisses you. He abandons any hope of containing his desires, his lips feverishly moving against yours. He hums at the taste of you, like you’re his new favorite dessert and all he wants is more.

“It’s getting late, Woo. I think we should go to bed. Don’t you?” San asks, running his fingers along your hips.

Woo nods, nibbling at your bottom lip, “Mmhmm.”

They slip away from you, heading for the hallway that leads to their bedroom. How cruel it is of them to just leave you standing here with your head all foggy and your cutest panties soaked through. You lean against the back of the couch, missing the contact but grateful for the chance to catch your breath. With all the air you were losing you might’ve fainted otherwise.

“Are you coming?” San calls out, lingering just outside of his bedroom. The light from the bedroom bathes the dark hallway in a warm glow that reflects off of San’s chest as he pops the buttons of his shirt open one by one.

You cross your legs, hoping to quiet the noise between them that’s only worsened at the sight of his bare skin. “Uh, yeah, I just, uh…have to get out of this dress first.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart” he smiles, amused by your shyness, “We can help with that.”

Your body moves as if it has a mind of its own. Each step towards him is so delicate you’d be forgiven for thinking that you floated your way to him. Placing a hand on the small of your back, San ushers you into the bedroom where an already shirtless Woo stands by the dresser fussing with his watch.

“Somebody need help with something?’ Woo asks, shaking his wrist free of the designer watch.

San brushes past you, tossing his own shirt onto the bed. “Her dress. She needs help getting out of it.”

Setting his watch down on the dresser, Woo crosses the room, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. He locks eyes with you, telling you to come to him without having to say it. There’s a pull to them. Like gravity holds you to the ground, your heart holds you to them. You’ve always felt it but tonight it’s infinitely stronger. They could call you to the moon and you’d find a way there.

“It really is a beautiful dress” Woo says, his hands tracing your figure the moment you’re within reach. He spreads his legs, bringing you in close enough to feel the tip of his nose graze the softness of your belly through the fabric. “It suits your figure well, not that a body like yours needs much help.” His palms come to rest at your hips, indulgent fingers massaging them as his thumbs ease the fabric higher and higher above your thighs.

“You’re always so sweet to me” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “If you’re not careful one day it’ll all go to my head.”

Pausing to admire the plushness of your thighs, he trails kisses along them, eyes flicking up to meet your gaze. “Good” he grins, pushing your dress above your waist. His hands slip back down to your thighs, another pair of hands gripping your dress from behind.

“You should let things get to your head more” San whispers into your ear, the defined muscles of his chest flush against your back. There’s something else pressed against you too. Something thick and hard poking into the tender flesh of your now exposed ass. Mindlessly you press back into it, breath hitching as you feel his need grow even stronger from your teasing.

“I think you let someone make you forget how special you are” Woo says, placing a kiss achingly close to your core, “But that’s okay. We’ll remind you.”

Woo’s tongue darts out, gliding up and down to taste you through panties already dripping with your essence. Easing your thighs apart, he tucks your panties to the side, a solitary finger petting your slippery entrance. A pulse of warmth ripples through you, pooling right between your legs where the tip of Woo’s tongue has found your clit, twirling around the bundle of nerves so artfully that any remaining ability you had to think straight simply falls away. Looping an arm around your right thigh, he hoists it up, throwing it over his shoulder.

Instinctively you look down but gain only the briefest glimpse of his head diving between your thighs before your dress is flying over your head, slinking to the ground beside you. You didn’t wear a bra tonight, the dress wouldn’t allow you to, and San’s grateful for it. That’s one less thing between him and those breasts that bounce against your chest so deliciously. He captures them in his hands, feeling the weight of them against his palms.

“So soft” San mumbles, suckling at the fragrant skin of your neck.

Shaping your breasts beneath his touch, he takes two fingers and lightly strokes your nipples. You let out the sweetest, softest moan and he pinches your nipples, beyond pleased at how that moan falls apart on the tip of your tongue. For every moan you let out he pinches them harder, pushing you further, just to see how much you can take or how much you want to take.

Your head falls back and San kisses your neck with even more hunger than before, leaving a trail of marks behind that will no doubt be hickeys by morning. Tears decorate your lashes like constellations, the overstimulation wrecking every part of you.

“You’re clenching like crazy, sweetie. You want something to fill you up?” Woo asks, his finger still stroking your slit, torturing you with the possibilities.

You whine, hips attempting to sink down onto his finger, but San grips you tighter, forcing you to straighten up.

“You have such a pretty voice” San taunts, dipping a hand between your legs to play with your clit, “Use it. You want us to fill you up or not, baby?”

Your breaths quicken, body trembling as you grab onto San’s arm, nails raking his skin. “Ah, I want it, Sannie. I want you to fill me up, pretty please.”

“Oh, pretty please? How can we say no to that?” Woo grins, gathering your arousal with his fingertips. He eases further onto the bed, lying back to watch how his fingers glisten in the light. “Come here, sweetie.”

San slows his movements, kissing you tenderly as he lets you down gradually before placing you on the bed. You get on your hands and knees without being told, crawling up the bed until San grabs your hips, stopping you when your face hovers just above Woo’s waist.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, Woo tilts your head up, raising his soaked fingers to your honeyed lips. San’s hands collide with your plump ass, the sting making you cry out and forcing your lips to part just enough for Woo’s fingers to slip in between them. You’ve never tasted yourself before, it’s something you never dared to try, but as Woo coats your tongue in your own juices you find yourself enjoying it so much that you’re sucking on his fingers, praying for more.

Behind you San’s rubbing your ass to soothe the sting, his eyes glued to your dripping entrance. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman that he’d forgotten how pretty a pussy could be and yours is without a doubt as pretty as they come. Your folds are so soft, your hole so needy and wet, that his cock’s straining against his zipper, aching to have you.

“Does your tongue feel this good when you do everything?” Woo asks when his fingers pop free from your mouth.

Placing your hand on the bulge that awaits inches from your face, you let your palm ride the outline of his cock. “Let me show you.”

Woo’s caught off guard by your boldness but it only makes him want you more. Unzipping his pants, there’s little you have to do to free him from his underwear. His cock’s eager to meet you, throbbing and leaking as you stroke his length. You circle the pink tip with your tongue, dragging it across the top to collect his arousal. Your fingers wrap around the base, keeping him in place as your lips wrap around his cock, stretching to take his thickness.

You’ve seen their cocks before, by accident of course, and somewhere in the filthiest corners of your mind you always wondered what it’d be like to have one in your mouth. Now you know and you love everything about it. How comfortably he fits in your mouth. How you can feel all the finer details of his cock with your tongue. And those noises he makes when the tip hits the back of your throat—moaning like he’s never felt anything better—are like music to your ears.

“San!” you want to cry out when he grabs you by your hips, thrusting his cock into you. Of course you can’t talk. With Woo’s cock shoved this far down your throat you can only mumble, drooling down his length while San’s pulsing against your walls. For a quick second, quicker than you can blink, your vision goes blurry. When San asked if you wanted to be full he meant full. Bottomed out, stretched to the brink, feeling all of him with nothing left to desire.

San leans forward, kissing along your spine. “You took me so well, baby. You’re being such a good girl for us tonight.”

He snaps his hips into you again and you arch your back, causing him to slam right into your sweet spot. You tremble and he knows he’s found it, the one spot that’s gonna make you unravel for him. You’re in no position to see him—in fact, you’re in the perfect position not to—but it makes him happy. He’s determined to make you feel good, every stroke of his cock dedicated to making you lose it.

But he can’t begin to ignore how good this feels for him too. Your walls are velvety and smooth, clinging to him as he glides in and out of your tight little hole. Each time he thrusts into you the force travels through your perfect figure, bouncing you right back onto him. San knows he’s bottomed out but somehow you seem to be sucking him in deeper, his abs tightening at the tension already building in his abdomen.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Look at you” San groans, pulling back enough to see the juices trickling out of you.

Gripping the blanket with one hand, you try to use all of your strength to prop yourself up but you can’t. San’s thrusts are too powerful, the pleasure’s too strong, and your body’s going limp. Cupping your fluffy cheeks, Woo pets them, pressing his cock even further down your throat. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll take care of you. Just let go.”

Releasing your hold on the blanket, you do your best to let go of it—of everything. Your muscles begin to relax, the full weight of your body falling into their hands. Between them they develop a rhythm, pleasing your holes in perfect synchronicity. You’re dripping from both ends, clenching and sucking, moaning and whining. You’re a perfect little mess. Everything they could ever ask for.

There’s something ethereal about being between the two of them. Your body feels light, like you're floating somewhere else but you’re right here with them. Not being fucked, being made love to. Being treated like every part of your body is this sacred thing that they’re so grateful to have.

“I wish you could see yourself right now” San sighs, running his hands down your sides, “Our pretty girl.”

Their pretty girl. It does something to you to be called that. It breaks you in a million ways. All the best ones. A swell of energy builds in your body, like a tree growing and spreading its branches out to the furthest reaches of your form.

“Mmmm…” you whine, heavy lids rising to flash those gorgeous glassy eyes up at Woo.

San feels your hips stutter and catches you, keeping you steady. “You ready to cum, baby?”

You nod, puffy lips still too tightly wound around Woo’s cock to make out words. Could you if he even let you?

“That’s it. Cum all over Sannie’s cock” Woo coos, his thumb brushing your quivering bottom lip, “Just like that. Good girl.”

Your mind goes blank, void of the faintest thought of anything. You’re caught in the ecstasy of your high, walls fluttering as you squirt down San’s cock. He quickens his thrusts, prolonging your orgasm long enough that when his finally hits you’re still pulling him in, milking him of every drop of cum he has.

Riding out his high, San pushes you forward, forcing your lips to meet the base of Woo’s cock. Woo raises his hips, sloppy movements bringing him closer and closer to the edge until he’s spilling down your throat, filling your cheeks with warm white liquid. He slips out of your mouth and you collapse onto his stomach, gasping for air as you try to recall which planet you’re on.

Completely spent, a dizzy San collapses on the bed beside his boyfriend, intentionally leaving enough room for you. “Are you sleeping there tonight?” he teases.

“No” you pout, motioning to hit him on the arm but making no impact at all. It’s like trying to punch someone in a dream. Nothing.

San catches your arm, pulling you into the space between them. “Are you usually violent after your orgasms?”

Woo tucks an arm around you, lovingly kissing your shoulder. “Not that we’re complaining. I’ve been known to like a little slap sometimes.”

“I’ll remember that next time” you promise, responding to his kiss with one of your own to the bridge of his nose. Turning to San, you kiss him on the cheek, giggling at how his face lights up at the sweet gesture.

Settling into each other’s embrace, the chatter quiets but not awkwardly so. There’s a sense of peace in each other’s company. A comfort in this newfound feeling of completion. All this time you’ve been together but never quite in the way that any of you wanted. There was always a barrier, something unspoken keeping you from letting your true feelings show, and now that’s melted away leaving only the three of you together.

“Baby” San whispers after some time has passed. Your head’s resting on his chest and he rubs your cheek, signaling to you that he needs to get up. “I’m gonna go run us a shower, okay?”

He sits up, ready to hop out of bed, when you throw your arms around him and drag him back down. “No. You whine” throwing on your best baby face, “You stay.”

“Oh my god. I have two of you now” he laughs, too soft for you to resist your pouting.

“Oh? You have me now?”

Woo props himself up on his elbow, head resting in the palm of his hand. “Don’t we?” he asks, drawing on your naked body with his fingertips. The question is playful but there’s a seriousness to it that can’t be ignored.

You let the question sink in, realizing for the first time that you don’t have to pretend anymore. “Yes, you have me” you sigh, batting your pretty doe eyes.

“It’s settled then. You’re all ours” San smiles, cuddling back up beside you.

Woo lays back down, nestling his face against your neck. “I like the sound of that.”

Your bodies fit back together like the pieces of a puzzle. Everything about this feels right. Every small moment so special. There’s romance in each other’s breaths. Intimacy in even the faintest brush of your skin against theirs as you shift in the bed. You could stay here forever. And you intend to.

#ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez fluff #ateez smut #choi san x you #choi san x reader #choi san fluff #choi san smut #wooyoung x you #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung fluff

370 notes · View notes

kawoala · 2 days ago

Text

🐰 ⤷ bakugou katsuki ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

⊂ word count ; .5k (551).

⊂ content warning ; profanity 、one bed trope 、bakugou curses a lot 、cuddling 、sleeping 、1ST TIME WRITING FOR BAKUGOU DID I DO GOOD ?? (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥)

This is ridiculous.

After being told you were going on a mission in a completely different country, with the one hero you didn’t want to work with, the HPSC didn’t even bother to tell you that there had been budget cuts. Budgets cuts that somehow transferred to the resources allowed to heroes.

Your eyes dart around the room for the nth time before landing on the singular bed dominating the space. Your arms are crossed over your chest, brows pinched together in the middle. “This is ridiculous,” you say, this time out loud.

Bakugou doesn’t say anything. He walks over to the side of the bed, kicks his boots off, and flops down on the bed face first.

You blink a couple times at the sight. Briefly, you note how good his ass looks in his pants. But you quickly shake that thought away and clear your throat. “Um, what are you doing?”

“Sleepin’,” he mumbles, though muffled. You can tell by the way he’s acting that he is exhausted. Usually, he’d spit some insult-that’s-not-really-an-insult at you and then ignore you for the rest of the night. Him giving you genuine answers is a bit weird for you.

“Okay.” You nod once, slowly, pursing your lips. “Right, yeah, sure. So, where am I supposed to sleep, then?”

With a groan that’s a little more dramatic than needed, he sits up and looks at you. “For fucks sake, I don’t bite, Y/n.” He slaps the space next to him and you watch dust appear in the air. “Sleep here, or sleep on the floor. I don’t really give a shit. I’m tired as fuck.”

And he just flops back down and rolls over. In a matter of mere seconds, you can hear soft snores escaping him. Your lips part in a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

Eventually, your legs feel like they’re about to give out. You trudge your way over to the bed and carefully sit down. You don't want to wake him, but judging on the way he’s snoring, you’re not sure you’ll ever wake him up.

As soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re out like a light. All the tiredness from the day washes away— the plane, the two trains, the bus. All the people who recognized Bakugou and not you.

And then you wake up. The blinking alarm clock reads 1:21 AM. on, off, on, off, on— you look away. Your eyes land on Bakugou’s sleeping figure. His brows are furrowed even now, like he’s having a bad dream, and—

Oh. One of his arms is wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him. For a moment, you’re still. You don’t know what to do. Should you move him? Would that wake him up? Should you pretend to sleep and wait until he wakes up so he can move himself?

You look at his face again. He’s pretty like this, you think. Lips parted slightly, cheek squished against the pillow, hair askew.

While you don’t move your arm, you do shift a little in your spot. His hold on you tightens and he draws you closer to him, exhaling heavily. You bring a hand up to his face and push his hair back.

You don’t hate Katsuki, no matter what the press says.

TAGLIST: @aozui @cherrysurf @sweetlyvibe

#kawoala #my hero academia #first time writing for bakugou…#boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #one bed trope

182 notes · View notes

domoriu · 2 days ago

Text

the morning after ꕤ s.jake

“eat your pussy just to show you how my tongue works” jake x f! reader smut 18+ mdni !! wc. 1.2k warnings: oral (f. receiving) riize version of this post on my other blog !!

to say jake was obsessed with you would be an understatement. he loved you so much he was sure other people would think it was unhealthy. he missed you even if you were right next to him.

even right now, while he sat between your legs while he played video games and you played on your phone, he missed you so much. he sunk himself deeper into your thighs, letting himself melt into the feeling of your hand mindlessly twirling his hair as he played. you knew your boyfriend always needed to be as close to you as possible at all times, him constantly whining about not being close enough to you and wanting to live inside of your skin, so the position you two were in was nothing out of the ordinary.

it also wasn't out of the ordinary that jake would end up being turned on from this position, so when he paused his game to sit up and face you, his words weren’t a surprise to you.

“can i eat you out?”

“jake, it's not even noon yet” you laugh, setting your phone down next to you on the bed so you can sit up to face him properly.

“i just love your pussy so much baby, wanna eat you out all day every day” he moves so he can place a soft kiss right on your collarbone.

and he wasn't exaggerating, if he could he definitely would devote his life to eating your pussy and making you cum on his tongue over and over. just last night he had you making a mess all over his face, and he still wasn't satisfied and needed to make you cum again.

his lips trailed down your chest, making you hold your breath as he trailed his fingers up your thighs. you couldn’t deny the heat you were starting to feel the lower his lips went, and you were sure that you were already getting wet when he pulled away to guide you to lay down on the bed.

jake was set on eating you out, but he felt conflicted about what he wanted to do when he saw the way your chest rose with every breath as well as your nipples poking through your tank top, or how the bottom of it rode up your stomach. he wishes he could have his mouth on all parts of you at the same time.

“jake, do something already” you reach for his hand that rests on your leg and bring it to your panties, his fingertips now resting at the hem of them and you lift your hips just a bit so he can get the hint.

his fingers move down to press against your clit through your underwear and you moan, lifting your hips again in response. jake smiles, pressing his finger harder against you to hear you moan again.

“you’re already wet,” he stares at you in awe, just moments ago you were teasing him for being needy but you were in the same boat as him, wanting him all the time. jake continues to rub you through your panties, watching as the wetness starts to seep through the fabric the more he touches you.

jake feels like he’s going to cum in his shorts just from watching you grow needier by the second from his touches, and his need to taste you gets worse with each scrunch in your face. not taking his fingers off you he leans down to leave a kiss by your belly button, then by the hem of your panties. he moves his fingers so he can move further down your body and lay on his stomach, lifting your legs and spreading them so they can rest on his shoulders. he licks his lips before kissing the inside of both of your thighs, sucking bruises into the skin occasionally as he got closer to where you needed him.

“jake,” you bring a hand to his head and run your fingers through his hair softly, giving his head a slight push closer to you.

the soft grip you had on his hair turned into a harsh tug as he pulled your panties to the side and placed a kiss on your slit. you moaned at the sensation, and he used his other hand to spread you open. he groaned at the sight of your pussy leaking arousal, he couldn’t get enough of you.

you were a mess under his touch as he started making out with your pussy, licking and sucking on your clit before dragging his tongue back down to your hole, letting his nose rub against your clit as he lapped up your juices.

“taste so good baby” jake groans into your cunt and the vibrations run through you, you whine and pull on his hair harder. with your other hand you bring it under your shirt, eagerly grabbing at your tits and tweaking your nipples to add onto the stimulation. when jake looked up he groaned again watching you touch yourself to help bring you to your peak faster.

from the amount of orgasms you had the night before jake knew you’d still be a little sensitive, so when he felt that you were already shaking he knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“gonna cum, pretty?” all you can do is nod as you let out a strangled moan, jake sucking hard on your clit right before you can respond. he moves his hand so he can bring them to your hole, letting some of his spit drip from his mouth and onto his fingers before he pushes two of them into you.

the feeling of his mouth on your clit and his long fingers filling you up, your orgasm was building up fast. you push his face impossibly closer into your cunt, grinding your hips into his face as well to add stimulation. once jake curls up his fingers inside of you and with one more a harsh suck on your clit you’re cumming, back arching off the bed as your vision goes blank.

jake was sure that you had ripped some of his hair out from the way you held onto it, but he didn’t mind when the cause was from him making you feel good. he would lose all of his hair if it meant he could eat you out every day.

once you got your breathing back to normal you let go of his hair, body trembling as you tried to calm your nerves.

“are you okay?” jake breathed as he came up from between your legs, the bottom half of his face glistening in your juices and it made your cheeks heat up. you hummed in response as you sat up as well, adjusting your underwear so they covered you back up. jake was still breathing hard, and when you looked down you could see how hard he was in his shorts.

“are you?” you bring one of your hands to his, intertwining your fingers before squeezing gently and smiling as you look him in the eye.

“wanna make you cum again” he’s quiet almost like he’s embarrassed, and you have to pretend like you weren’t up for his horny shenanigans. you laugh and place a quick kiss to his lips.

“im going to put you on a sex ban if you keep this up”

a/n: little surprise release before i post #that fic hehe 🤭 i was debating on reusing this for jake or heeseung cuz they just have to be the biggest munches in enha so i hope yall like this :3

#kiwi luvs enha …♡ᵎᵎ #jake smut #sim jake smut #jake sim smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader smut

356 notes · View notes

littlegrapejuice · 2 days ago

Text

Your Champion | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: The WDC title has been won by Max, but Lando actually doesn't mind as you both know his time will come one day.

Author's Note: i PRAYED that the championship fight would've gone on for longer (at least till qatar (which btw was a shit show)), but then i saw the light come back in lando's eyes + the vid of him congratulating max and i was just so glad for him bc it looked like a massive weight had been lifted off his shoulders😔

It was…

Relieving.

In a way.

The 2024 Las Vegas Grand Prix had been decisive for the title of Formula One World Champion.

Max had won the drivers’ championship. It was now definitely over for Lando. And even though he had been a good contender to the title, Lando’s season had mostly been focused on him getting his first victories ever since he’d joined Formula One – which the majority of people tended to forget. Max had been used to being on the podium and being on its top step for years.

This year was the first for Lando. From Miami to Singapore, with Zandvoort in between, Lando Norris had won three Grand Prix after spending the last four years not making it past P2. If he and his team kept driving walking down this path though, then Lando definitely had a chance for the next season.

For this one however, it was over.

And that didn’t really bother him to be honest.

Lando had partied like there was no tomorrow with the grid. Although they still had the last two races of the season waiting for them, everyone wanted to celebrate George winning the race as well as Max winning his fourth title. You hadn’t been very far from him, spending most of the night with the rest of the drivers’ girlfriends with whom you had formed a tight knit group. You were all giggling about the silliest and most random subjects, brainstorming gift ideas for Carmen and Kelly who wanted to offer presents to the winners of the day, and drinking until your respective boyfriends wanted to call it a day. You promised each other to hang out soon again, probably in Qatar depending on which WAG was able to come. And then you all went your separate ways, you leaving with Lando back to your hotel.

The ride was quiet, only the soft sound of the engine could be heard in the taxi. Far less loud than a Formula One car though, and almost lulling you to sleep. Looking out the window to admire the bright lights of Las Vegas, you smiled when you saw the sphere. She had captured your heart during the weekend and you’d found it cute how it had observed the drivers every time they went around it. You were hoping that the one in Abu Dhabi would be similar and got excited thinking about the final race of the year. Still daydreaming during the rest of the journey, you were brought back to reality when Lando squeezed your hand as a way to signal your arrival to the hotel.

Once back in your shared room, you took turns taking a well-deserved shower and then simply went to lie on the bed. The TV was off – none of you was in the mood to watch something and you were definitely too tired to focus on a screen – and the curtains were slightly open – a majestic view of ‘Sin City’ was presenting itself to you which made it easy to understand why the temptations there were so strong, not to be refused.

If someone were to ask you though, your view was a way better one than the one seducing you outside. While you were sitting up, resting against a couple pillows, Lando was laying on his side, his head on your thighs. You smiled as you passed a hand through his curls, Lando relaxing from the gentle and loving touch. It was such a peaceful moment for the both of you. No more stressing thinking about the championship, nor the comments, nor the team. It was just you and him tonight. That was all he needed. He wasn’t Formula One McLaren Driver Lando Norris with you, he was just Lando.

Lando who was self-conscious; Lando who didn’t believe in his own skills; Lando who doubted himself way too much for your liking; Lando who wondered if it was all worth it in the end; Lando who still hoped that he was capable of great things.

You, however, had always seen another side of this Lando. You were more familiar with Lando who made sure to deliver you flowers when you weren’t able to follow him to whatever country he was racing in; Lando who was adored by your friends because of thoughtful his birthday gifts to you were; Lando who would never go to bed if one of you was upset with the other; Lando who would buy you sushi when you were overworking yourself; Lando who never gave up despite the uncertainty.

Even when he was insecure, even when all odds were against him, even when half of the journalists criticised his lack of talent compared to more successful drivers and Lando himself was starting to believe them, he still never gave up. He had been close to do so several times – not his proudest moments. But every time it could have happened, he thought of you and your support throughout the years. He thought of his family, his friends, his fans. It gave him strength. It gave him the motivation to continue. And above all, he also thought of himself. He thought of past Lando, who had such passion and love for karting, who would be over the moon to know he had fought to become a world champion. Lando had been amongst the twenty best drivers of the world for the fifth consecutive year, and he would still be here during the following years. He had deserved his seat, deserved his achievements. And despite the lows, there had been so many highs that Lando knew he could never give up his dream.

He would be a Formula One World Champion one day. And you would be here to witness it.

That was your unknowingly shared thoughts at the moment. You were both hoping for this achievement to happen someday.

It also had a nice ring to it, especially when you thought about how you could would be introducing your boyfriend as a champion in the future. For now though, even if he wasn’t a Formula One champion to the world, he was still a champion to your eyes. And if you were to ask Lando about this strong opinion of yours, he would definitely agree with a cheesy yet romantic reply that would sound like:

“Of course I’m your champion, the best trophy I ever got was when I won your heart!”

And he would laugh at his own words – you would too, to be honest. But despite the unseriousness of his tone, you would see in his eyes that he meant everything he had said. You would recognise that look everywhere – the look of love, because you had the same one whenever your gaze would land upon him. Even if your only answer to that would be to scoff and pretend like it was ridiculous, the way that you would then squeeze his hand and bring it up to your lips in order to give it a light kiss was enough of a giveaway that you were moved by the meaning his words held between the lines.

You’re worth more than any prize I could ever get for racing. When I’ll be old and wrinkly, I’ll look at you and reminisce of everything we’ve been through together. And if I make the mistake of thinking about my career first, I know I’ll still find you easily in my memory because you’ll have been there for every milestone.

These were Lando’s thoughts, and what his eyes were trying to convey. And he hoped you understood every word. But even if not, he would gladly say them to you as many times as needed for you to get that you were his priority over anything else and that he would fuck a championship up whenever you want if your wish was to one day elope before disappearing from the face of the earth. It wasn’t necessarily in your plans at the moment, but the thought of retiring both your jobs to go live on a deserted island had been enough of a recurring joke that it was definitely an option in the future.

For now though, the option that you were both choosing was to enjoy the current moment and get a peaceful night of rest before being caught in the chaotic whirlwind that would be the next race during the following week.

..........

I'm back y'all😝 ngl i wrote that pretty quickly but forgot to post it bc i had my lil collage to do and i always procrastinate the "scouring instagram to find good pics that fit my fic" so then it just disappears from my brain till i finally remember to do it

Anywayyys i hope y'all enjoyed it, it's my shortest work i think but i like it a lot and I'm always down to write ab lando bc he's my fave sooo🤭

Be back whenever I'll be, take care of yourselves, love ya guys<3

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x you #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you

248 notes · View notes

enidette · 2 days ago

Text

STRANGE CANDY

warnings :: both are 18+, carl, riding, piv, manhandling, humiliation, nipple play, teasing, begging, overstimulation

denise was a gift, truly. she saved many lives which proved a lot about her. but she needed help, and you along with a few others volunteered to be her medical assistants. you were the only one your age however, it kind of boosted your ego. learning all of this and helping people so young.

you dealt with patients nearly every day. it was typically older people, with he exception of one boy, one around your age. you got a glimpse of him around alexandria, you knew he came for check-ups and cleanings for his eye. he’s cute, but you’ve never gotten lucky enough to be the one to help him.

but when you see him, he’s always looking at you first. and if you’re not being too cocky, he seems like he’s trying to get your attention. but his lack of experience in the flirting department leaves him failing ninety percent of the time. but that only drew you to him more; how pathetic he was.

today is a particularly short-staffed day, meaning denise had gone on a run and you as well one other intern were the only one’s in the infirmary. even that lasted a short while, due to the lack of patients today your coworker decided to call it. checking with you before leaving you to the rest.

there was only maybe two hours until sundown, which is when denise should be returning. then you could go home. so you didn’t mind being left there, especially at the rate of, well, no patients today.

you make your way to the bag you bring every day, whipping out the comic you bring in case of a slow day. you sit where denise usually does and let yourself get into it. your hands mindlessly go to the stash of snacks in your bag before you’re interrupted by a soft knock.

guess you couldn’t have it all your way.

you put your things away and hurry to the door in case of an emergency, opening it to see him. the cute loser, the leader’s kid. well you couldn’t complain now, could you?

he seems taken aback at the sight of you, stammering slightly. “where’s denise?” you frown but stand to the side to let him in.

“she’s out on a run.” he gives you a weird look, no doubt confused as that’s not denise’s forte. “looks like you’re stuck with me.” you give him a sorrowful look that you only half-heartedly mean before leading him to a bed.

carl looks down when you sit in front of him, avoiding your eyes. “no offense…” he looks up to see you quirking a brow at him, “i’m used to denise doing this. since she usually has to clean it and all… not many others have ever seen it.”

you hum in acknowledgment, nodding your head in understanding. “okay then,” you place your hands on your lap and give him a tight-lipped smile. “i think you can wait if you want-”

“no.” he cuts you off, causing you to blink at him. he racks his brain for an excuse to get you where he wants without scaring you away with the mutilation on his face. at least that’s what he thinks of it. “you can still give me a check up, right?”

the thought of you so close to him made him nervous. he hasn’t felt this strongly about someone before, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. and with your hands on him? his brain may short-circuit.

but you nod to him with a sweet smile that eases him. but it doesn’t stop his mind from running wild when you stand up to grab his files. his eye can’t help but follow your ass as you walk. that’s how crazy you make him, his brain going haywire at your close proximity. but once you’re far enough away it’s free to be tainted and lewd.

he doesn’t snap out of it until he hears you sigh, and he realizes you’re sat down in front of him again. “so, since i’m not familiar with you, i have a few questions.” he nods as a sign for you to continue. “what brings you here today?”

he laughs a little, “check up.”

you nod, “i know, i know. i gotta ask,” you look down at the pieces of paper again. “is there anything bothering you?” he shakes his head. “do you often drink alcohol or use drugs?”

he tilts his head, “how would i do that?” you shrug and adjust yourself in your seat.

“there’s beer and stuff here, and medications.” you say it like it’s obvious, which makes him turn red at how dumb he may have sounded. but the way you said it, like he was dumb for asking, it made his face heat up.

he just nods, your words starting to become scrambled with the more questions you ask. he half-ass responds to most of them, focused on how hot your voice was coming from your pretty lips. that’s when the next question shocks him and rips him out of his head.

“are you sexually active?”

he chokes on his spit, not knowing how to answer that. the other assistants have asked him that before. it always flustered him having to say no, but it’s much worse when it’s you. the girl he’s been eyeing for way too long. the one who makes him feel like some dumb kid, humiliating him even when it’s something small. even when others probably wouldn’t bat an eye at it. even though you may not even notice how it affects him.

not that he doesn’t like it.

he squints his eye shut in embarrassment, “no?”

“that didn’t seem like an answer.”

and there it goes again, little things like that. making him feel like he does nothing but sound like an idiot. it makes him want to hide away, but at the same time crawl back to you so you can make the embarrassment worse. it’s like you have him on a leash.

“no, i’m not.” his voice is barley above a whisper when he says it. he curses himself for sounding so meek and quiet. how do you reduce him to this? and so easily?

the look in your eyes is hard to decipher. it drives him crazy. did he just ruin his chances with you? did he sound like some pathetic guy? or maybe you didn’t care, and this is just some one-sided attraction and you’re weirded out by his behavior. at least you can’t see into his slutty mind.

“have you ever had sex?” he blinks confusedly at your words,

“the… the other assistants never asked me that-”

“but i am.” again you’re saying things so matter-of-factly it has him curling into himself a little. mostly to hide the ever growing problem in his pants. “answer.” he merely shakes his head, leading you to grab his chin with your hand. you’re standing up now, towering over him while he looks up at you wide-eyed.

“no.” his voice is so breathless, his pupils blown with lust. he tongue darts out to wet his lips, is he finally getting you how he wanted?

a smirk rises on your face, your hand trailing from his face to his bicep. your eyes stay on his, silently challenging him to look away. you lean closer, lips close to his before you whisper, “do you want to?”

the weak ‘please’ he lets out is all you need to press your lips to his. it’s harsh and rushed and has him whimpering. he’s hardly even kissed, and that was only once. honestly, you could tell. but the inexperience was what drew you to him.

you pull away to push him down. your actions caught him off guard, leaving him to fall clumsily with a huff. he doesn’t get a lot of time to register anything when you’re grabbing him harshly by the collar and pulling him into another rough kiss.

he whines against your lips, one hand coming up to your left breast. you swat it away, separating from his lips again to glare down at him. “you don’t get to touch unless you ask.” he lifts his head to give you an incredulous look before letting it fall back down. his hat falling off in the process.

your left hand to goes to his chest, and you give a harsh twist to his nipple, laughing when he yelps. “didn’t think you’d be so sensitive.” you smirk, letting your thumb run soothingly over the bud though his shirt. you hum, “physically, that is…” you run your hand down, stopping at the hem of his shirt. “i see how you act when i humiliate you in front of your little group.”

his breath picks up when your hand slides up his shirt, running along his abdomen. his pretty skinny, slightly toned from all the running and fighting he’s done. he whines out again, grabbing onto you in a way that’s pleading you to go further. to give him more.

you squint your eyes at him, “stop rushing me.” he goes to speak but just shuts his mouth, watching you with a needy, obedient gaze. “you’re gonna take what i give you, got it?” he nods quickly, his eye widening for a moment.

“i-i mean, yes. yes, yes, i got it.” you hum and slide his shirt up, muttering a ‘good’ under your breath. you trail kisses along his skin, starting above his jeans and stopping when you get to his chest.

you can’t help but smirk when your tongue hits his nipple, the way he flinched from sensitivity, you couldn’t help yourself. you listen to his whimpers get louder and breathing get heavier and more rapid with the more stimulation you provided to one side. so you switched, and the noises started all over again.

you glance at his neck, pride filling you at the sight of purple-red marks all over his skin. they went down to his collarbone, then more on his abdomen. some so others could see, some so just you can see.

“please,” he pants, leading your hand down to the tent in his pants. he hisses when you start to palm him through his jeans.

“please what?” you can’t even hide the amusement in your voice, it makes carl groan and shut his eye tightly.

“please touch me.” he breathes heavily, watching your hand travel to his zipper. “more.” you chuckle darkly, unbuttoning and tugging the fabric off his legs. he swallows thickly as he watches you play with the waistband of his underwear.

“you just keep begging and begging.” you tsk and shake your head. in reality, you love it. but you can’t pass up this opportunity. “you’re that desperate to get your dick wet?” you take his silence as an excuse to pinch his nipple again, smiling when he cries out.

carl sighs, brushing his sweaty hair from his forehead. “yes. okay, yes. just please.” his eye is slightly watery and he looks dazed and still rather confused on what to do. he gasps when you slide his underwear off, the cold air and how close your hand was ripped a moan from his throat.

you stand up, causing him to whine at the lack of contact. but the complaint he was about to dish out gets caught in his throat when you lift your shirt off. your work clothes hid the body you had underneath, which seemed so perfect to him that it felt criminal he hadn’t seen it until now.

his eye stayed on your body as you stripped down, watching you saunter off before coming back with a condom in hand. his eye widens and he looks at you hungrily, “do we have to?” you laugh and sit yourself on his lap,

“do you ask dumb questions on purpose?” carl purses his lips and stays silent, but you feel him twitch against your thigh. “you’re such a fucking loser.” you press your lips to his before he can speak, swallowing the whine he lets out at your crude words.

you’re suddenly taking your time, slowly sliding the condom over his cock. of course you pick now to tease him, he can’t help but squirm. “hips?” he asks dumbly, hovering his hands over your hips.

“are you asking to touch them?” he nods, causing you to scoff. “you’re already all dumb and i haven’t even fucked you yet.” his hands grip your hips, sliding your cunt over his length.

“then do it,” he whines out, letting his head fall back. “please.” you sigh, lifting up your hips and lining him with your entrance. you sink down on him slowly, adjusting to the feeling and wiggling your hips. all the while he’s a mess, trying to keep his noises as quiet as he can — which is still quite loud, not like you’re complaining.

you lean down to his ear, “you sound so pathetic.” you laugh, your breath hitting his skin causing him to shiver. your wiggling turns to grinding, which turns to bouncing. it left him a mess, gripping onto your hips like you’d disappear if he didn’t. he couldn’t stop the whines and whimpers of your name leaving his lips.

he lets his head fall into your neck when you tell him how loud he’s being. that laugh you let out every time you embarrass him is hypnotic. it’s like it commands his body to let go and fully be at your mercy. it leaves him feeling even more embarrassed, as he’s fought off being the small, inferior one. but the embarrassment you cause is good. it’s so bad and humiliating but it leaves his cock throbbing in his pants every time.

“i can’t,” he breathes out. “i can’t hold it. ‘have to-”

“hold it.” you snap, tangling your hands in his hair to pull his head back. you look him in the eye, “or you’re going to go again. and again, and again if your pathetic dick betrays you. you’re going to make me cum too.”

he nods frantically, letting his eyes fall to where your bodies connected. that was the wrong move, the sight alone had him cumming without even trying. you watch with an amused look at his face, scrunched up in a silent moan. his body shook and his grip got tighter before his arms fell.

he pants heavily, slowly lifting his head to look at you. he grunts when you slide off of him quickly, too quick. you laid beside him and tug his body on top of yours. you took note of his dazed look, erratic breaths and flushed face. he was so dumbed down, but you couldn’t have him thinking you’re a liar?

“cmon,” you nudge his side with a laugh. his glazed over eye meets yours with confusion. “aww, you didn’t think i was serious.” you coo, running your thumb over his cheek. “i’ll use you as my own sex doll until i get what i want.”

his face flushed a deep cherry red, but he gets the message. and even though he’s so fucking sensitive, and so dumb, already unknowing of what to so, he slides into you again with a hiss. his thrusts are erratic, messy, and fast. you can’t help but giggle, causing carl to grimace. he couldn’t tell when you were laughing out of joy, or if he was doing something dumb again.

“please, be quick.” his rushed voice gave away his approaching orgasm. his face buries into your neck, lazily biting at your skin. “can i touch you?”

you hum, letting out a moan when he hits a certain spot. but he’s so far gone he misses it, unlike before when he would’ve taken notice of anything that made you feel good. “touch me where?”

he breathes out, letting his head come out from its hiding spot to watch what he’s doing. he shakily trails his hand down your body, landing near your clit. “here?” you move his fingers so they’re in the right spot, muttering something about how dumb he’s being. he feels his face heat up and he swore he could cum from your remarks alone.

he circles his fingers, starting slow but eventually speeding up to match the speed of his cock inside you. he whimpers, watching as he pumps in and out of you in awe. he looks up at you, using his free hand to hold onto your waist. “close? please tell me you’re close. i can’t hold on and i can’t go again.”

he babbles into your ear, losing his composure completely. he nearly screams out a ‘thank you’ when you tell him to cum with you, his hold on your waist near bruising as he does. he can’t even move, slumping down onto your body. his arms wrapping around you to hold you close.

he hears you chuckle, and he curses his body for reacting the way it does. but all you do is grab his hat, placing it back on his head from whenever it had fallen.

taglist :: @carlslvr @hiro--aoki @carlsangel @mozzeralla-stix @carlmipololo @carlgrimesgfofficial @livingdeadgirlflorette

if you recognize this, it’s because it is a rewrite because the og was a hot mess ♡

#carl grimes x reader #twd x reader #carl grimes smut #twd fanfiction #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes x fem!reader #twd oneshot #twd x y/n #twd smut #twd carl #twd imagine #twd fic #twd x you

153 notes · View notes

oimitocat · 2 days ago

Text

HEATED SHEETS | SKZ

ot8! (separately) x m!reader

omegaverse + nsfw + headcannons + 9th member reader! + mating cycles + breeding + cum inflation + biting

BANG CHAN—

chan is nurturing.

he always makes sure you’re hydrated not because you also do that to him while he’s in heat but because alphas tend to get dehydrated faster

he knows your stamina, so he’s always prepared and makes sure the two of you have enough towels and wipes for clean up

he himself had failed his biology, having taken suppressants and such- hence he doesn’t produce much slick even on the highest of arousal days. even in rut you make sure you use some lube (well, he pours it on you and you rub it in)

you ALWAYS mark him when you’re in rut, you’re territorial- leaving hickeys, scratches, fingerprints, all that sort. sometimes it does get overwhelming- especially because he’s so pale, it’s noticeable.

chan winces when you chomp down on his shoulder. you had already licked and sucked all over his collarbone and neck.

“alpha,” he whines, realizing you’re extremely territorial this cycle.

“mine,” you growl, trailing down to his inner thighs.

if there’s anything that embarrasses but also arouses chan- it’s when even in your rut- you prefer to go down on him. your eyes are always predatory and lock in with his as you eat him out regardless of if he’s oozing slick or not and if your load is dripping out of him.

you’re less vocal during rut, only grunting and groaning, nuzzling into him and scenting

he doesn’t like when you try to fuck him outside of the bed/nest — he already has enough back problems

LEE MINHO—

this little shit gives you a headache even during rut

he goes deep into the predator and prey thing, always trying to get away and making you fight a knot in him

he honestly gets excited when he sees you so rough and desperate. he likes a little pain (read: he loves pain)

due to this, you always make sure you push multiple loads in him before he somehow gets away again

while your knot if going down, he likes to feed you

his inner thighs are sticky from slick and cum, slippery on the side of your hips as he sits on your knot. your eyes are narrowed down on him, your alpha preening at how beautiful your omega is. you can’t help but growl out of pleasure when you see the little bump in his stomach from the amount of cum you’ve pumped into him.

“open,” he says as he scoops up another bit of yogurt.

your hands grabs his knees and spread his legs apart. his little dick sitting on your abdomen, spent and soft. slick and cum glimmering on his inner thighs.

he blushes, closing his legs again. “no idiot! mouth! open mouth!”

despite his teasing tactics, he does let you fuck him anywhere and everywhere

SEO CHANGBIN—

oh your rut with changbin? always ends up with you either making him a total mess or instigating a flash heat (read:a/n at bottom)

he can never walk straight afterwards, mostly because he just can’t say no to you. you fuck him anywhere and everywhere.

you love his thighs, marking them up every single time

you love messing with him even in rut

your knot is still very latched on to his rim. he’s trying to be relaxed, eyes closed as he takes soft breathes. you love seeing your omega full with you, under you. but you also like having him cry.

you pull away a bit, his rim tugging at your knot and he jolts and cries out. “Y/N!”

you frown. he notices.

“a-alpha. no, that hurts.”

you do let him go out the room, proud of the marks on his body for people to see

he knows the pack won’t touch him, so you rest while he goes out the room for a meal and bring you some back

you totally ignore his complaints when your rut is over

HWANG HYUNJIN—

hyunjin is awkward. not as much as the first time you shared your rut with him, but sometimes he’s just there and he can’t think of what to do

he does let you put him in all positions but you like doggy style, the arch of his back is beautiful, must be a dancer thing

he does get overwhelmed easily, so when he begs you to stop you listen

one thing he loves is how you play with his nipples

“drink,” he says as he hands the water bottle to you.

you grimace but obey, chugging the bottle down in mere seconds. he watches you for a while before fixing the nest, changing the sheet underneath the two of you to a cleaner one. he’s more to cuddle and scent than have sex day and night.

you don’t mind, you like changing the scent of distress in hyunjin’s scent to a happy one. you sometimes over-scent him and your strong rut pheromones stay on him up to two days after your rut is over.

he doesn’t really like when you knot him, if your rut lasts, lets say, four days, you can only knot him twice a day.

but he does like when you cum inside. (a/n)

HAN JISUNG—

an absolutely cry baby. he likes being overstimulated, but he cries over it

you love picking him up and pounding into him on the wall.

your tiny omega is always flush with sweat and marks. you love licking his sweat, he hates it but he doesn’t really complain

sometimes he tries to crawl away but having you cuff him by the neck and pin him down is such a turn on to him

honestly he forgets to eat so he has to set alarms for him to remember the two of you need to eat and drink.

“ngh, y/n-“ he groans when you rub your hand over the bulge in his stomach.

your grin is sadistic, your dick pounding into him but the bulge prominent enough to touch. jisung squirms under you, realizing you have every means to make him overwhelmed again.

he always comes untouched when you’re in rut. and he’s so, so close again when his alarm goes off and he realizes you two have not eaten all day.

“omega seems pretty full to me,” you tease as you bring his hand to feel the bulge of his stomach.

he definitely makes you choke on your water for that.

also likes it when you fuck him on every surface

LEE FELIX—

makes sure you’re fed and hydrated above everything else

you’re more prone to napping your whole rut away with him

your dick will always be deep in him when you nap, huddled close to him

the only place he’ll let you fuck him outside the nest is the shower or tub

due to the unhealthy diets he’s had to go through, his production of slick is also scarce

“nn,” you grumble into his neck, your hands pushing the back of his knees into his chest.

felix honestly loves the fact that no matter how rut induced you are, you still care for him. it’s natural of course, he is your omega. he likes to watch your dick slide in, a small bulge forming whenever you’re deep inside him. it’s those heated moments that have him produce enough slick, but day and night? he has to depend on lube.

still, you assure him you’re fine with it. the way you tenderly kiss his neck and scent gland speaks of how you’re more than happy that he’s just here with you.

sometimes he’d rather ride you, but it ends with him slamming up into him and doing all the work

KIM SEUNGMIN—

surprisingly, even outside of rut, you were amazed at how much of a cock slut he is

he’ll not just take you anywhere in the room but he’ll take you anywhere

mouth, ass, you just get your rut wave out of the way and he’ll be happy to be of use

he OVERFEEDS you, sometimes he does it on purpose so that you can sleep more

you’re balls deep in him, knocked out and breathing down his nape. there’s a thin blanket over you and him, it doesn’t matter that it’s just you and him in the room, he still gets shy over his naked body.

at first he wanted to keep a shirt on while your rut was in play, but you always ended up ripping it off and marking him up. in the end you settled with a blanket covering him when the two of you were not actively fucking.

fuck him on the floor, in the nest, over the dresser counter, over the sink, in the shower. he’ll love it.

also, he doesn’t like leaving the nest, so he always has bottles of water stashed under a pillow and the mini fridge stocked with food

YANG JEONGIN—

practically in charge of you during your rut

you can’t fuck him unless he openly allows you, he makes sure you rest/sleep good above everything

of course, he does have a high libido, so you go through maybe about 5-7 rounds until he tells you that’s enough for the day

he loves giving you a bath/showering you when you’re in rut

surprisingly , you’re a little pliant when in rut. he learned you prefer him to touch you one way or another and that would be enough. you’d sit between his thighs on a tony stool while he shampoos your head. his pretty hands lathering you up with soap and body-wash.

he’ll sit on your lap in the nest while drying your hair with a towel. sometimes he’ll even sit on your dick while doing it, providing you some sort of sexual content. above everything he’ll let you mark him up.

he’ll probably give you a handjob before going to sleep for the night

the best make-out sessions

a/n: so a flash heat is when an omega is induced into a heat that lasts a day or two. while normal heats last from five days to up to a week. flash heats are caused when the omega is extremely overwhelmed and needs care one way or another. seeking it’s mate for it.

a/n: alphas can choose to either pop a knot or not. knotting simply happens when in means for the omega or beta to be plugged up with their cum in means to “catch” or conceive. an alpha can still orgasm without popping a knot.

#kpop x male reader #x male reader #kpop x top male reader #kpop x reader #x male top reader #sub!kpop #sub!idol #kpop oneshots #skz x male reader #skz headcanons #skz reactions #skz smut #omegaverse #skz abo #kpop reactions #kpop headcanons #stray kids headcanons #sub!stray kids

102 notes · View notes

brokenpieces-72 · 15 hours ago

Text

Nightmare Comfort

Note: So when I made the poll for the missing part of the gangster au, I got 20% of people who wanted both, and then the nightmare comfort and normal release were an even split of 40%. So you're getting both.

TW: Violence, interrogation, nightmare, blood, let me know if I miss anything

“Fuck…” you groan.

“You’re a little shit.” Nolan grunts, spitting. “You want me to get ugly?”

“You were being pretty?” You question, trying to hide the amount of pain in your voice.

You hear a gun cock. Your blood goes cold. You go very still. “Tell me where!”

“I swear to fuck I don’t fucking know!”

“Tell me where Makarov’s file is!” He yells.

“I don’t fucking know!!”

BANG

You bolt upright in bed, clutching your chest, wincing from the bandage. In the darkness you see the shape of the stray scurrying away from the bed. You're in a cold sweat as you take deep breathes, trying to steady and ground yourself. You toss back the blankets, and hurry out of your room. The living space is barren so you hurry to their rooms, cracking their doors open. Gaz, Soap, Price and Ghost are asleep. Your heart is still beating hard though. A dream... all a dream.

You wish it were only a dream. The truth is Nolan had done a number on you and the marks were there to stay. You were reckless and didn’t take care of yourself. If Alex and Charly hadn’t made it in time you’d be dead. Dead over something that didn’t exist. You could’ve lost everyone who was asleep right now. They wouldn’t be in safe beds, they would be in the water.

You’re not gonna be going back to sleep anytime soon, so you curled up on the couch instead. The cat curls up with you. The pain is still there, the weapons are in your mind despite never seeing them. You can’t help yourself from imagining the others in the same state as you were. Your bruises were still visible, you’d seen them when you’d got to take a shower. Too soon for a pain killer since your last.

You absently pet the cat, as the dark apartment remains still around you. Very slowly your eyes drift close, and you aren’t about to bother moving. Too cozy where you are. If anyone could come through the door you could be ready. But sleep consumes you easily enough.

When Simon woke up he went to the kitchen and saw you on the couch. You were groaning softly, the cat having already hopped away. Ghost noticed you started to toss and turn. Coffee could wait. He went over to you instead as you started to get louder. Simon started to shake you awake.

You awoke and went to attack the random figure that had appeared at your side, seemingly out of nowhere. Ghost was faster, catching your wrists, but his instincts were faster than him. He ended up pushing your wrists and almost getting on top of you. With the darkness you could quite make him out, and are about to call for help. He uses a hand to cover your mouth.

"It's me!" He says, voice low and gravelly. You stop using your free hand to try and shover him off as you start coming back to reality. Your hard breathing starts to slow and soften while your heart pounds in your chest. Ghost stares down at you wait for you to steady yourself. As Ghost's weight on top of you starts to ground you, you also start to wince. Eventually the soreness is hard to bear, so you pull his hand off.

"You're on my bad leg." You whisper. Simon doesn't get off but readjusts himself, so the weight of his knee isn't pressing on anything sensitive. You do a small check around the dark room. God what time is it? Early probably. You can't make out any of the digital clocks from the couch. You don't notice Simon is still staring at you.

"Broken?" He asks after a moment of you two just breathing and waiting.

"No." you answer. Your head was hurting though. Ghost got off of you, letting you sit up. You stretch because the couch, while comfy isn't exactly great on your back.

"What are you doing out here?" Ghost asks, keeping his voice down. You shrug.

"No reason." You say. "Couch is comfy."

Ghost can tell you're lying. He's worried about you. Being a cop couldn't have been easy, he knows you've been fired a gun before. Seeing Makarov point a gun at your already beaten and weakened state nearly set him off. Ghost has to remind himself that you're not a child anymore, not some naive rookie. By now you had a good enough taste of this life to be taken seriously. After everything that has happened, that you caused he also knows you don't want to be a problem. Joining them, you crossed plenty of bridges, but by now you've burned quite a few.

Simon sits next to you on the couch, and you can feel it sink to his weight. He debates talking to you about how you're not alone, and never have to be. Sure he's private but you don't have to be. The whole Nolan thing was this life rearing it's ugly head.

Regardless you need rest. Those injuries aren't gonna heal if you're thrashing around in your sleep. Simon stands and offers his hand to hekp you. "Get up."

You do as he says and he sits down in your spot. He gently tugs you back down on the couch, but you feel him moving you around. You realize he's reclined on the sofa and is laying you on top of him.

"Ghost what ar-"

"Lay down." He orders. You don't argue and do as he says. Why was your face warm? Why was he so warm? "Close your eyes, try to sleep."

You try lifting your head so you can question him, but he pulls your head back down to his chest. You can feel his heart beating, calm and steady. Man, talk about a big step. Ghost went from standing in a corner in the same room as you, to being your comfort pillow.

"Don't you have stuff to do?" You asked.

"Not really. I wake up early out of habit." Ghost said, his voice low. "Used to do it to avoid my father, a run in the mornings, go to school, work, etc."

"Your father?" You asked, rolling over on to your stomach. Ghost sighed and pulled your head back down. Why did he let that out? Guess it was easier to tell you now, otherwise you'd probably go searching for answers on your own. Better to hear the truth from him. By now he'd told Johnny and Price, Laswell had seen the reports, you probably had too. Something about your weight on top of him made him feel he should air out some issues, if only so you understand who you were sleeping with... there was a better way to phrase that.

"Learned I shouldn't call him that. He used bring in wild animals to scare me, an addict, and would encourage my brother to do the same." Ghost listed off. A brother too? You wondered if any of the others had siblings they didn't talk about. "Abused me and my mother."

There was a span of silence as if he'd told you the whole story and was letting you sit with it. You'd seen a few abuse cases, that had resulted in murder, from both sides. Sometimes the victim fought back and other times the abuse got deadly. You felt like there was more than what Ghost was telling you. Ghost was a private man, so maybe he just didn't want to say anything more. You let yourself relax into him. Simon isn't one to act violently without cause.

A hand drifts to your head, calloused fingers playing with your hair. The sound of your hair being played with and Simon's heartbeat filled the otherwise quiet ambience of the room. Did he think you were asleep already? How much time had passed since he finished telling you what his dad was like? You couldn't help but feel the rest of the story was important. Thinking of what he's told you and where Simon was now, there were a few blanks. You couldn't think of the right question to ask next.

"Is that how you met my dad? Calling the cops on him?" You asked quietly. Simon is still quiet.

"No." He said, and the hand that was in your hair, was resting on your neck. His hands are a little cold. Simon's thumb over your soft neck is soothing for both of you. "He's dead. Killed him after he killed my mother."

Now it's your turn to be quiet. Simon killing his father. You could see it. There was motive too. It wasn't something you wanted to pry open further. With how calm Simon was, you assumed it must have gone far deeper, and his mother's death was the final straw. You thought back to when you came to live at the hideout for the first night, and the stray that had practically become the house pet. Simon's comment about black cats being targeted simply for their fur colour. Hated simply for something you can't control. As you lay there you there you felt the urge to say something, the statement lingering in the air awkwardly.

"Thank you." You said. Thank you. Thank you? Wow that's all you can think to say? You don't even know why you said it, whether it was for his comfort, his acceptance of you, or for killing his piece of shit father. It was a mix.

"Go to sleep." Simon grumbled, and his thumb stroked the back of your neck. You stretched as much as you could without hurting Simon or yourself, before shutting your eyes again.

Kyle woke up and came out to the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks immediately once he saw you and Ghost on the couch. Kyle debated backtracking to his room, not wanting to disrupt... whatever this was exactly. At least he hadn't turned on the kitchen light yet. Before Kyle could think of a next step though, Simon spotted him. Simon nodded.

"Are they okay?" He asked quietly.

"They are now." Simon answered.

"I'll go pick up breakfast." Kyle said, returning to his room to get a jacket. He wasn't going to interrupt this moment. Kyle left without another word, intending to get the usual.

Price had slept in a bit, needing some extra recovery time himself. There were no plans until everything calmed down, and Makarov played his next hand. Kyle sent him a text saying he was picking up breakfast. Price hoped Kyle at least put the kettle on before he left.

When Price got changed and came out to get something to drink he found you still sleeping on Ghost's chest. Was that what Simon meant when he said you were a cat? Ghost gave his boss the same nod as he did with Kyle, and Price returned it.

"Painkillers or nightmares?" Price asked.

"Bit a' both." Simon said. "Told her about my record a bit."

It was his tale to tell, and Price wasn't about to put any restraints on what Simon could and couldn't say. Price didn't talk about Simon, because there wasn't anything people needed to know about him. Simon was plenty old enough to decide what he wanted people to know about him.

"Much sleep?" He asked. Simon shrugged. He hadn't been keeping track. Price checked the clock and decided to head out for his morning coffee. The kettle would wake you like an alarm clock. You needed more rest.

Of course Johnny came out and saw the scene, the earliest rays of the morning giving a low light to the space. He paused mid step and Simon looked up at him. Like Kyle he debated going back to his room.

"You two want privacy?" He asked.

"We're fine Johnny." Ghost said, rolling his eyes. Then Johnny took his phone out. Before he could take the photo, Simon stared him down. Johnny looked up, and his cheeky grin disappeared.

"They're sleeping. Don't make me get up." Simon warned. Johnny raised his hands and stepped back. Okay. He'll just chill in his room until breakfast comes.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @theotheronedotorg

#cod au #john soap mactavish #task force 141 x reader #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #cod gangster au #gn reader #nightmares #nightmare comfort #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

78 notes · View notes

leighsartworks216 · 16 hours ago

Text

Damn Him

Father!Zayne x Mother!Reader

I NEVER write baby fics or anything with kids and shit EVER. So when I got this idea and felt something deep in my core about it, I simply had to get it out of my system. I'm sorry ;-;

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, angst (at the end), family fic, breasts, Dawnbreaker, swearing

Word Count: 1,275

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Crying broke through the still night air. They crackled slightly, muffled through the baby monitor on your bedside table. Nonetheless, you were awake.

The bed is already starting to shift when you're opening your eyes. You blindly reach out and grab onto the soft sleeve of Zayne's pajama shirt.

"I've got it..." you murmur. "She's prob’ly hungry."

He watches blearily as you slowly push yourself up into a sit. "Are you sure?"

You hum, nodding. You let go of him and pick up the monitor, waving it in the air with a playful, yet sleepy, grin. "It's on my side tonight, remember?" You turn down the volume, set it back down and get to your feet. "Go back to bed, lovey. I'll be back soon."

Zayne sighs, but he stays where he is as you pull a cardigan of his around your shoulders. He listens to the sounds of your shared home: the quiet shuffle of your slippers, the hiccuping cries of your daughter, the soothing lilt of your voice as you calm her down.

He glances at the digital clock beside him. It's only 2am; there's still plenty of time to get enough sleep for work tomorrow. As much as his body wants to fight the exhaustion and join you, he knows you'd scold him if he tried. He trusts you, anyway. There's nothing he can do right now to help.

So, he slips back under the blankets and turns onto his side. As the blankets fall into place, the rustling silences, and he tunes back into the lullaby you sing. It leads him down into the embrace of a peaceful slumber.

When next he wakes, he's disoriented. He blinks droopily at the emptiness of your side of the bed, then at the clock that reads 3:30am. There's no distinct sounds coming from the baby monitor. Down the hall is quiet. Why aren't you in bed?

He pushes the blankets off of himself and sits up, sliding on his slippers like it’s second nature. The cool room of the bedroom doesn't bother him as he crosses the room and out the door.

The door to the nursery is wide open. Blue moonlight pours though, spilling onto the floor and up the opposite wall. He squints slightly as he peeks inside. Any fears he could have vanish as he sees you.

You're sitting back in the armchair beside the window, head tilted back at an awkward angle and mouth open around quiet snores. Your shirt is pulled down to expose one of your breasts. Your daughter is using it as a pillow as your arms securely hold her, even as you are fast asleep.

Zayne drinks it all in. Your sleep-rumpled hair and dark eye bags, the shimmer of a drool trail along your chin, the uncomfortable way the collar of your shirt pulls against the underside of your breast. Your daughter, Jasmine, his beloved little flower, clinging with her tiny baby fists to his cardigan you stole, her chubby cheek resting against your skin and the other catching a stray moonbeam. He considers taking a photo of the moment, though he eventually decides against it. His two girls need to be put to bed and he doesn't wish to delay that any longer. Besides, if nothing else, this moment has been seared into his mind. That is enough for him.

He's as quiet as can be as he crosses the room to the chair. Carefully, he slowly pries Jasmine's hands from the cardigan. Her body is so small and warm in his hands as he lifts her into his arms. Oftentimes, he's overwhelmed with the desire to hold her forever, to feel her tiny little heartbeat alongside his own. Just like people save ultrasounds or ink-presses of their child's feet and hands, Zayne wonders if it would be strange to save an echocardiogram as a memento.

She doesn't stir as he lays her down in the crib. Her long, dark eyelashes curl over her round cheeks, picturesque. Her onesie is covered in little snowmen. He should make one for her with his Evol tomorrow. He can only imagine the bright-eyed stare she'd give him as he creates such cute things out of thin air.

Leaning down, he presses the lightest of kisses to her head, just barely starting to see hair growth. Now to take care of the other girl in his life.

Nimble fingers pull your shirt back over your breast, drawing the open sides of the cardigan together to keep you warm. He debates between waking you or not. And although he really should wake you, he ends up lifting you from the chair and into his arms. The moonlight caresses his back as he carries you down the hall, back to your bedroom. He tucks your feet in first as he lays you down before pulling the blankets up over you. Just as he did with Jasmine, he kisses your forehead, willing portions of his soul to transfer to you in hopes he can somehow get across how much he utterly and truly loves you.

He grabs the baby monitor before he rounds the bed back to his side. He turns the volume dial back up and sets it on his nightstand beside the clock. You'll get onto him about it being your turn to take care of the baby for the entire night, a system born out of his tendency to do everything himself due to his workaholic nature. He'll accept the scolding come daylight. You'll forgive him. You always do. Even if it's with an exaggerated sigh and a fond eye roll.

He lays on his side to face you, the love of his life. He couldn't dream of being anywhere but here, by your side, as he allows sleep to overcome him once again.

He wakes up.

Hollow.

He always feels hollow after dreams like that. And why shouldn't he feel the weight of what is missing in his life?

His bed is empty save for him. The room down the hall is full of random stuff he can't be bothered to worry about. It's a guest room; he's not having any guests over, so why bother?

The void within him cries to be filled. It opens like a yawning mouth, only an unfathomable depth waiting within, yearning for that life. The life that doctor has. A life he can never have.

Never will he be able to wake up to your face right beside him. Never will he be able to hold his daughter. Never will he be able to have that life with you.

It isn't fair. It's not-

He presses the balls of his hands into his eyes, biting back the shuddering breaths and the sting of tears. He’ll be forced to watch his daughter grow up through that doctor’s eyes. And it’s not even his. He has no rights to make a claim on her. He never will.

Relegated to watching you grow old through someone else’s eyes, instead of being there with you, to hold and help and love.

The sensor beeps nearby. He turns his head to look, blinking away the moisture in his eyes and meeting the breaking dawn that shines in through the window. A red dot blinks at him. It’s only a few blocks away.

He imagines for a brief second if the victim this time was you.

You, carrying a little baby in your arms, calling him a murderer. The idea of taking her life-

He closes his eyes and wills the thoughts away. Damn that doctor for having the life he can never have. Damn him.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip

132 notes · View notes

lovecla · 3 days ago

Text

FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, phase two:

➴ chapter warnings: shitty ex boyfriend, mentions of cheating.

➴ word count: 2.5k

💌 from me to you: i just realised i was supposed to post this yesterday im sorry u guys i’m just dumb af. also, did you know it’s almost impossible finding a country music singer who isn’t an awful person or racist? i know zach bryan isn’t exactly a ray of sunshine but it fits the story so i apologise :( i hope u like it either way! ♡

𖧷

NICO OPENED the door for you after the second knock, which was a blessing— it usually took him more than ten knocks to actually hear that someone was on the other side of the door.

“Hey, there, fake girlfriend,” he kisses your cheeks three times, like he used to do in Switzerland, and you smile at the feathery touch on your skin. “Come in, I made soup.”

“I already ate, but thank you.” You place your purse on his couch, sitting down almost immediately. It had been a long day at work. Jeffrey, the section editor, was being a pain in your ass and spent the entire day trying to convince you to go out with him, claiming that he would take you somewhere to participate in a hot dog eating competition.

The issue here wasn’t the hot dog competition but the company. He was annoying and whenever he spoke, the spit coming from his mouth made you feel like you were in the middle of a rainstorm.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks, sitting by your side after grabbing a bowl of what must be soup for himself. “You look…”

You smile tiredly. “Tired, I know. I’m fine, it’s just work.”

“We can reschedule our meeting for another day, I don’t mind. You can also nap in my bed.” He offers, and you almost melt with how sweet he sounds.

“This is not a meeting and I’m fine, I swear,” you cross your legs, cracking your knuckles mindlessly. “So… we have the Zach Bryan concert coming up.”

Nico sighs, like what you just said was the worst thing in the entire world and you chuckle, finding his reaction cute.

“Do we really have to go?” he pouts and you want to coo.

“Usually, I’d tell you no and move on. You know I’m not a country music girl either but… I was thinking,” you run your fingers through your hair, braiding it while you speak. “It would be a great thing for us. There will be a lot of people there and, I mean… one of them has to know you. And one of them has to post something about us online.”

“And you think Nora will see it?” he asks, eyes full of hope, making your heart ache for a second. You wanted Nico to be happy so fucking bad, that the thought of Nora hurting him made you see red.

“I think… I think there’s a high chance of that happening, yeah,” you whisper, hoping that you were at least fifty percent right. “We’ll just be… y’know. A couple. Jack and the other guys are going to be there so we’d have to fake it anyway.”

“Mhm, you’re right,” he swallows a spoonful of carrot soup, licking his lips afterwards. “We’re fine, then. Instagram posting and all?”

You nod. “I’ll do the posting today. Maybe a picture of you with the guys, so it’s not too obvious.”

“Alright, cap,” he mockingly salutes you, and you laugh, throwing a pillow on his hips. “I’ll do my best.”

𖧷

THE ARENA where the concert was going to happen was full of people, and you caught yourself holding Nico’s hand tighter.

“Everything okay, baby?” Nico shouts over the music, and even though you’re surprised at how used he sounds whenever he calls you that, you nod at him, shaking your head up and down. “If you want to leave we can—”

“The hell you can!” Jack emerges from behind you both, shaking his head. “You promised me months ago that you’d come with me.”

You smile at him. “We did, yeah. Don’t worry, we’re not leaving.”

This time, Nico’s the one squeezing your hand and you give him an angry, yet playful look, while he looks absolutely adorable.

Jack convinced you and Nico to buy these tickets months ago, and when you bought them, you didn’t give it much thought— you knew you’d end up creating some random excuse and not going to the concert anyway.

Little did you know that when the concert day came, you’d be fake dating your long-time friend and trying to fool not only his friends, family and fans, but also Nora, a girl you despised.

Life is too confusing for you sometimes.

Fortunately, Jack also forced you all to pay for the VIP ticket, which meant that you didn’t have to be in the pit with people squeezing you and risking getting hurt, or something like that.

The VIP area was, in fact, just a huge room with a balcony view and snacks, all you can drink beer and some other fancy people who were just sitting there and taking pictures of themselves with their big, cowboy hats. Couples, friends, family— it looked like everyone and their mothers decided that it would be great to watch a man sing about love and broken hearts.

You were people watching— something you liked to do whenever you were in a place with too many people— when you felt one large yet gentle hand on your bare waist, making you jump slightly with how cold it was.

“Sorry,” Nico whispers in your ear, and the tiny yet present accent in his voice makes you smile. “You good?”

You had every intention to reply right away, but when you realized Nico had trapped your body between the balcony glass and his body, you froze. You knew you had to get used to being physically close to him, hell, you’d been the one who told him to keep touching you whenever you were in public so why were you feeling like this?

Sure, Nico’s attractive, always has been. But he’s also your friend. And in love with someone else.

You nod your head, grabbing the beer he bought for you and taking a long sip. Thankfully, the singer, Zach, decides that that was a good time to start singing so the lights are almost immediately off and the shouting covers your awkwardness.

Even though you’re not a fan, you have to admit that his songs are good. Swinging your body side to side to the country beat, you enjoy the show in Nico’s arms, laughing as you watch Jack dancing while holding Bastian’s hands and pretending to cry over Zach’s songs.

“D’you think we should do that?” Nico shouts over the music and you smile at him, confused.

“Do what?” you ask, also trying to make yourself heard over thousands of people singing and loud music.

“Dance,” he explains. “I’m the worst dancer ever but all of the couples are doing it.”

You look around for the first time since the concert started and you confirm that Nico’s right. The few couples in the room were animatedly dancing with each other, laughing and kissing like people in love are constantly doing.

You take a deep breath and finish your beer in one go, leaving your now empty cup on the table next to you. You turn your body around, laughing when Nico offers you his hand like a gentleman would, and you grab it, twirling afterwards.

We're havin' an all-night revival

Someone call the women and someone steal the Bible

For the sake of my survival

Baptize me in a bottle of Beam, put Johnny on the vinyl

Nico told the truth when he said he didn’t know how to dance, but his enthusiasm for sure made up for it. You both laughed hard as you danced around each other, laughing even harder when Jack tried to join the two of you just to have Bastian pulling him back like he was a ragdoll.

Well, the Devil can scrap, but the Lord has won

And I'll talk to him on the rising sun

His son rose and mine did too

I was coming down, but now I'm talking to you

“He ‘talking about you!” You shout over the song, and he leans closer to you, holding you in place while his stubble scratches your temple.

“What?” he grins.

“‘The Devil’. He’s talking about you,” you joke, praying he’ll understand the pun.

“Oh, sure, baby, he ‘talking about me.”

Suddenly, he pulls you a little bit too hard and you stumble, putting your hands on his chest, looking for some kind of support while he keeps your feet on the ground with his hands on your waist.

You’re breathing hard, all the dancing exercises are finally catching up on you. You’re staring at his coffee-colored eyes, feeling his chest go up and down underneath your hands, his breathing hitting your forehead with how close you both were.

You’re so… close. And even though your heart is beating frantically inside your chest, you cannot help but feel some sort of rightness in the place you’re at right now. And it’s so wrong.

So, so wrong. So terribly wrong and hideous yet—

The clapping and shouts bring you back to where you’re supposed to be, reminding you of how you’re supposed to act, of what you’re supposed to be doing. And that definitely isn’t having your hands all over Nico’s chest and standing inches away from his mouth.

“Em—”

“I’m thirsty,” you interrupt him, wiping a non-exist drop of sweat from your forehead. “I’m gonna go grab a drink, okay?”

“I can go.” He starts moving, but you’re faster. Placing a light kiss on his cheek you tell him you’ll be right back and start walking towards the bar.

Thankfully, it was almost empty since the majority of the people in the room were enjoying the concert in the area closer to the stage, so when you ask for another beer you get it shortly after paying. You decide to sit on one of the stools before going back to where Nico and the rest of the boys were.

The cold, bitter drink sits perfectly on your tongue before you swallow, and you hum to one of the few songs you knew, taking the opportunity to organize your thoughts inside your head.

You didn’t know what the things you were feeling for Nico Hischier meant.

Well. Actually, you did.

But it couldn’t be it, right? He’s your friend. Also, he’s in love with another woman. Also, he’s Nina’s, your friend’s brother. Isn’t it against the friend's law to hook up with their family? Or anyone related to them in any way?

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite ex.”

You mutter a quiet ‘fuck’ before turning your head around, sighing because of course that, at a twenty thousand people, sold-out concert, you’d end up in the same room as your shitty ex from two years ago.

“Hi, Carl.” You don’t even try to sound nice, because in reality, you don’t want to.

“Hi, Emma. Didn’t expect to see you here,�� he leans on the counter, his brown hair falling over his face, long and ugly. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Why is that any of your business?” You roll your eyes at him, getting off the stool and resuming your walk back. Sure, that’s what you would’ve done if Carl hadn’t grabbed your wrist, forcing you to stay in place. “What—”

“Come on, Emma, don’t play difficult,” he smiles widely and it makes you sick. “Look, I know it’s been a couple of years but… I miss you. I miss us.”

You scoff. “You should’ve thought about that before you screwed my fucking boss.”

“Oh, you’re still hurt about that,” he says like you’re someone who keeps talking about the same things over and over again and he’s the friend that has to keep listening to you. “I get it, it was wrong of me. But at least you have a better job now, right? Heard you’re working for the NHL now.”

You don’t try to hide your disgust.

“Where the hell did you ‘hear that’?” you try to remove your arm from his grip, unsuccessful. “Carl, let go of me.”

“Not until you hear me out—”

“Hear you out? You cheated on me—”

“—and understand that I was grieving my grandma’s death—”

“Your grandmother died when you were twelve!” you yell, pulling your wrist. “Carl, let go of my arm—”

“Is everything okay here?” Nico’s voice makes you turn your head around fast, watching as he frowns as he looks to where you and Carl were connected. “Baby?”

“Oh, so he’s why?” Carl hisses, forcing you to look back at him. “You’re his bitch now? That’s why you don’t want me back?”

“Carl—”

“Excuse me?” Nico steps closer to you, putting his hand on top of Carl’s and pulling it away from your arm in seconds, so effortlessly you have to keep the gasp that wants to leave your mouth safe inside. “Get your hands off my girlfriend right fucking now, who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m her ex-boyfriend—”

“Then I’ll ask again: who the fuck do you think you are?” Nico gently grabs your hand and moves your body until you stand behind him, his large body blocking almost entirely Carl’s frame. “Don’t fucking piss me off and leave right now.”

“Not until I talk to Emma.”

“Do not fucking say her name, you lost the right to do so. So, how is it going to be? You leave willingly or I punch you in the face?”

“Nico, no—” you whisper, placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Man, you know what? I’m gonna leave. She’s gonna come back crawling to me, and you’ll have to get your dick wet somewhere else.”

You only have time to place your cup on the counter before grabbing Nico’s hand and keeping him away from punching Carl’s face.

“He’s not worth it, baby,” the pet name left your mouth so naturally you don’t even notice it, but Nico definitely does. “Let’s go back, he’s just another asshole.”

Nico turns away and runs his eyes all over you, looking for something. Whatever he is, he doesn’t find it, so he just nods and mutters:

“Du arschloch.”

It makes you laugh, finally feeling all the tension leaving your body. “Yeah. That too.”

𖧷

“ARE YOU sure you’re okay?” Nico asks for the nth time, and you stop walking to look him in the eye.

“I already told you I’m fine. And all thanks to you.”

“I didn’t mean to make a scene,” he pouts, and you smile, cooing at him, wondering how good those lips must feel when—

No.

“You didn’t cause a scene, captain,” you playfully punch his shoulder. “And even if you did, it’s good, okay? Imagine the posts on Twitter: Nico Hischier, the captain of the New Jersey Devils, protects his little, defenseless girlfriend, Emma Roberts.”

“You’re not defenseless.” He laughs.

And I’m also not your girlfriend.

You laugh too.

“It was a fun night,” you sigh, walking towards your apartment door again. He walks by your side, and you hate the way it makes you feel safe. “Not doing it again though.”

“Yeah, me neither. One country music concert is enough for a lifetime.”

“Agreed.”

𖧷

emmaroberts

liked by jackhughes, jesperbratt, _connorbedard and 2,936 others

emmaroberts got to be a cowgirl for one night with these fellas right here

View all 130 comments

elladavis you’re so pretty!! miss the boys!

emmaroberts elladavis luke wasn’t with us tho

elladavis emmaroberts emma.

brooksnatalie you look so cute with your little hat baby :(

emmaroberts brooksnatalie can u move to new jersey already like i promise u it’s better than vancouver

_quinnhughes emmaroberts No. it’s not.

emmaroberts _quinnhughes shut up what are you? the mayor of vancouver city?

user2 YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY

nicohischier hat looks good on you

emmaroberts nicohischier thanks cap 🩷

jackhughes glad to say i was the best dancer in the arena

emmaroberts jackhughes grandma its okay go back to bed

user5 emma congrats you just caused world war 3 with this post on twt

user6 user5 I DONT HAVE TWITTER WHATS GOING ON

user5 user6 people are going crazy over some photo of emma and nico together at the concert like they’re hugging and shit and now they’ve been analyzing every interaction they’ve ever had to prove they’re together

user8 ARE YOU AND NICO A THING

𖧷

73 notes · View notes

archiveofvirtue · 16 hours ago

Text

lovely kook!reader tries to embrace her independence, only to have old wounds reopened when rafe confronts her at the annual midsummer party on figure eight

content / ex bf!rafe x fem!reader, inspired by s1 ep 5 midsummer, reader teasing rafe, flirting, reader being a little brat, rafe being an asshole, violence, explicit language, panic attack, mentions of rehab, drug abuse, weed, barry, objectification

BLESSING IN DISGUISE Ⅳ

Rays of sunshine fell through your window, waking you up earlier than you wanted. With a sigh, you flopped over to your other side, rubbing your eyes—and that’s when you saw it. The light blue dress hanging on your closet door.

Your stomach sank. You hadn’t seen that dress in over a year. It was the dress. The one you had picked out with Rafe on a random afternoon when everything between you two still felt… perfect. You’d been so excited for Midsummers back then, but now? You barely wanted to go. There’d be no y/n and Rafe. Just you, showing up, pretending like you didn’t care.

“Whatever,” you mumbled under your breath, sitting up and shaking off the thought. This year would be different. You weren’t Rafe Cameron’s girlfriend anymore, and you didn’t want anyone else to think that you still were.

And if nothing else, at least you would have Kiara by your side.

Kie showed up at your house with her loose curls pinned up and a breathtakingly lilac dress. She kicked off her shoes at the door like she’d lived at your house her whole life and flopped onto your velvety sheets.

“Alright,” she said, grinning as she rummaged through her bag. “If we’re already being forced to go, we’re at least going full kook tonight. That dress? You’re wearing it. Period.”

You just rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. She was right.

As you two got ready you talked about literally everything—the latest chaos, school gossip and other stuff, kie was really growing to be one of your favorite people, which you’d never guessed in a million years.

But just then her tone shifted.

“So,” she said, glancing at you through the mirror. “What’s going on with you and JJ?”

You froze, your lipliner hovering mid-air. “What are you talking about?” You said, playing dumb.

Kiara smirked, knowing exactly what she was talking about. “Come on. Don’t act like I didn’t see you two being all over each other at the beach two days ago. And don’t even get me started on the way JJ looks at you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “He doesn’t look at me like anything.”

Kiara let out a dramatic groan, flopping back on the bed. “Girl. He stopped talking when you walked by the other day. JJ doesn’t stop talking for anyone. The boy’s into you. It’s painfully obvious.”

You couldn’t help but smile, even as you tried to brush it off. “He’s just… JJ, you know? He’s always like that.”

Kiara sat up, pointing a makeup brush at you. “No, he’s not. Trust me, I know JJ. He doesn’t flirt like that unless he’s serious. And honestly? I think he’s good for you.”

You blinked. “Good for me? You do realize who we’re talking about, right?”

Kiara shrugged. “He’s a good guy, y/n. Messy, sure, but he cares about people. And I can tell he cares about you. And for the record, I saw how you were looking at him, too.”

You definitely didn’t have a comeback for that. You weren’t used to being this vulnerable, especially after everything with Rafe. But as you glanced at your reflection—at the light blue dress and the spark of something new in your eyes—you couldn’t help but wonder if Kie was right. The idea of JJ actually being into you made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t ready to admit just yet.

“Maybe tonight won’t be so bad,” you said softly.

Kiara grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

The Country Club was buzzing, but not in a good way, it was the kind of energy that made your skin crawl. Voices and laughter echoing from everywhere, mixing with the clinking of champagne glasses and the soft hum of a string quartet playing some bougie classical piece no one fucking cared about.

You stepped out of your car, smoothing the fabric of your light blue dress as Kie adjusted her earrings. Your nerves were already on edge. You hated the feeling. It reminded you too much of last year when you were practically glued to Rafe’s side, playing the perfect couple for everyone to see.

Now, you were the girl who ghosted everyone. A year away, no contact, and now you were back—and definitely not part of Rafe’s world anymore.

“Alright,” you muttered to Kie as you walked up the stone steps together. “Let’s get this over with.”

Kie glanced at you, smirking. “Relax. It’s just a bunch of rich people pretending to like each other. We’ll be fine.”

You snorted, but the uneasy feeling in your stomach didn’t leave. You slid off to the side as the crowd shifted toward the main entrance, a low buzz building in the air. You knew what was coming before you even looked.

“Seriously?” You muttered, rolling your eyes as the Camerons made their grand entrance. “They still do this?”

Ward led the way, full of his fake charm, with Rose clinging to his arm like some obedient puppy. Sarah was trailing behind, giving her best “I hate this but I have to smile” look. And then there was Rafe.

Your breath hitched, and you froze, nails digging into the palm of your hands. He looked… the same but not. His hair was perfectly styled, his shoulders squared as he scanned the crowd. But what hit you like a punch to the gut was the suit. That suit. The one you picked out together last year. The light jacket, the bowtie, the whole thing—it matched your dress perfectly.

“y/n?” Kiara nudged you, snapping you out of it. “You good?”

You forcefully tore your eyes away and shook your head quickly. “Yeah. I just—uh—I need a drink.”

Without waiting for an answer, you slipped away, pushing through the crowd until you reached the bar. The bartender didn’t even blink as you ordered a shot of tequila and tossing it back like you weren’t the girl who once scrunched her nose at the clear liquid and telling Rafe that it tasted like gasoline.

“That bad already?” a voice suddenly hummed behind you.

Your whole body tensed. ‘You’re kidding.’ You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, your gaze shifting to the right.

Rafe was leaning against the bar, his lips curved into that familiar smirk, but his eyes… they weren’t smirking. Not even a little.

“You look beautiful,” he said, internally cringing at himself. But it was true, you looked stunning and it was more than hard for Rafe to keep his hands to himself.

You blinked, caught off guard for a second. “Thanks,” you said, keeping your voice light. Your eyes flicked to his bowtie, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out, straightening it with a teasing smile. “Didn’t think you’d actually wear this.”

Rafe chuckled lowly, his eyes locked on yours while your closeness got him all dizzy. “I could say the same thing.”

You let go of the tie, yet your hands still lingered on the silky fabric of his suit, fingertips brushing over his arm as you tilted your head up at him. You were trying so hard to stay calm, but the way he was looking at you was making your heart pound heavier.

“Dance with me,” he said suddenly, the words just blurting out of him. But you just stared at him, trying to process his words. “What?”

“Come on,” Rafe said, stepping closer. “One dance. For old times’ sake.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Yeah, no. Not happening.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, the smirk slipping just slightly. “Why not? You don’t want me to embarrass myself, do ya?”

Your eyes narrowed, not feeding into his little games. “Oh, don’t start. You and I both know this isn’t about a dance. Besides, you embarrass yourself just fine without me.”

Your comment hit him, and you could see the flash of anger in his eyes. Sighing you tried to get away from him, but you you could take a step back, he grabbed your wrist—not hard, but enough to make you stop, his voice now dangerously low.

“Don’t give me that attitude, y/n,” he said, his grip tightening slightly. “What is this? You think you’re better than me now? Is it because you’re hanging out with those dirty pogues?”

Your temper flared instantly, yanking your wrist back and glaring at him. What the hell was he thinking? “Oh, don’t you dare—”

“Is there a problem here?” Your dad’s voice suddenly cut through the tension like a knife. Rafe immediately let go of you, standing straighter as he stepped in and nervously licking his lips.

“Mr. y/l/n, it’s so-” Rafe said, his tone polite but stiff, his whole demeanor shifting like a switch had flipped.

But your dad wasn’t in the mood for fake niceties. His gaze was ice-cold as he stared Rafe down, you guys’ past not only having a big impact on you, but your parents as well.

“Why don’t you go grab yourself a drink and stay away from my daughter, Mr. Cameron.” he said, his voice low and steady.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, taking a step back. “Yes, sir.”

Your dad turned towards you, his expression softening just slightly. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, shaking off the tension in your shoulders. “I’m fine.” Your dad hummed to that, his hand on your back as he steered you away from the bar.

Yet you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder. Rafe was still standing there, his fists clenched, his eyes burning into you, he wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t.

Good. You thought as you saw his longing eyes. Let him feel guilty. You weren’t his anymore. Not tonight. Not ever again.

As the atmosphere around you had cooled down the party was at its peak—loud, fake, and suffocating. You were leaning against the catering table, picking at a tray of shrimp sliders Pope had just put down.

“You guys look way too comfortable,” Pope muttered, his voice tired as he adjusted the tray. “Meanwhile, I’ve been running around like a maniac trying to keep my dad off my back.”

Kiara grinned, tossing a shrimp into her mouth. “You’re killing it, Pope. Keep the little rich kids fed, and maybe you’ll get a bonus.”

“Yeah, right,” he said, giving her fake enthusiastic look. “He’ll probably make me wash dishes for being too slow.”

You laughed, but your gaze kept drifting across the crowd to where Sarah was practically glued to her family’s side. Ward was talking to some fancy guest, Sarah and Rose standing just behind him like decoration. Sarah’s expression was painful—she wanted to get out of there, her eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you.

It was quick, subtle, but you caught it; a pleading look that practically screamed, help me.

“Look at Sarah,” you said under your breath, shaking your head.

Kie followed your gaze, rolling her eyes when she saw her. “God, she looks like she’s dying. Ward’s probably giving her the you represent the Cameron name speech for the millionth time.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, “Poor girl looks like she’s being held hostage.”

Before Kie could respond though, a nervous voice broke through your conversation.

“Uh, hi… excuse me?”

You immediately turned, eyebrows raised as you took in the boy standing in front of you. He had brown hair, a slightly oversized suit, and the kind of awkward energy that made you think he’d spent way too much time rehearsing this moment in the mirror.

“Yeah?” You said, crossing your arms. He was kinda cute.

He fidgeted, looking everywhere but at you before finally meeting your gaze. “Would you, um… would you like to dance with me?”

Kiara choked back a laugh before you flipped around to give her a seriously? look, turning back to the boy right after. “Me?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. If you want to.”

You hesitated, glancing at Kiara, who was now smirking like this was the best entertainment she’d had all night. Finally, you shrugged. “Sure, why not.” The boy looked relieved as he held out his hand, leading you to the dancefloor.

As soon as you got into the center, his hand gently found your lower back, and you started swaying to the slow rhythm of the music. It was… nice, actually. He wasn’t half-bad at dancing, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy it.

But then, like a sixth sense, you felt it—eyes on you. You didn’t even need to turn around to know that is was Rafe who was practically drawing holes through you.

He was resting against one of the houses columns, his jaw tight, a glass clutched in his hand as his eyes locked on you, the intensity making it feel like he was right infront of you.

He watched you, you were smiling, spinning in that damn blue dress. That dress was supposed to mean something. It was y’alls . A little piece of history that tied you to him, even if everything else between you two had been torn apart. But now you were wearing it like it didn't matter, swaying on the dance floor with some random guy who didn't even have the decency to wear a suit that fit.

Pathetic.

As you saw him eyeing you, your first instinct was to feel smug. Let him watch. Let him hate it. He deserved to see you living your best life, to know you didn’t need him anymore.

But as the seconds dragged on and you saw the way his hand gripped the glass, his knuckles white like he might snap it in half, the satisfaction started to fade.

You hated that little flicker of guilt twisting in your chest, hated that your brain wouldn’t stop wishing—just for a second—that it was Rafe’s hand on your back instead, holding you close.

As the song ended the boy smiled at you, oblivious to the danger nearby. You gave him a quick thanks before heading back toward Kie and Pope, and when you glanced back toward the bar, Rafe was gone.

The rest of the night blurred into a series of forced conversations and fake smiles. You had spent most of the evening dodging questions from your parents’ friends about where you’d been for the past year, nodding along to whatever gossip they whispered in your ear.

You’d barely thought about Rafe, convincing yourself it didn’t matter where he’d gone. But that changed when you stepped inside the Country Club to use the bathroom.

The hallway was quieter, the muffled sounds of the party echoing in the distance. You were halfway to the bathroom door when a hand grabbed your arm, pulling you harshly into a dark room.

“What the—” you started, yanking your arm back as the door clicked shut, your heart dropping when you turned around.

“Rafe?” You asked, voice sharp with irritation. “What the hell are you doing?”

He stood in front of the door, his face unreadable, though his blue eyes burned with something you couldn’t quite place. “I just want to talk,” he said, he just needed to remind you that you weren’t as over him as you pretended to be.

You crossed your arms. “Oh, this is what you call talking? Dragging me into a random room? Great start.” You spun toward the door. “I’m not doing this.”

“Wait,” Rafe said, his voice softening. “I mean it. I’m sorry. For earlier. For talking to you like that. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You paused, hand on the doorknob, “Wow,” you said bitterly. “An apology from Rafe Cameron himself. Guess there’s a first for everything.”

His jaw tightened, and when he spoke again, his voice was colder. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m the bad guy here.”

“But you are,” you immediately shot back, stepping closer. “You’ve been the bad guy for a long time, Rafe. Nothing’s changed.”

He flinched, his eyes flashing with something darker. “And you’ve been acting like a bitch all night,” he said, his voice sharp.

The word hit you like a slap to the face, but you refused to let him see it. “There it is,” you laughed sarcastically. “That’s the real Rafe. God, you haven’t changed at all.”

That’s when something in Rafe snapped. His voice rose, frustration spilling out. “Why do you think you get to talk to me like that, huh? Do you even know what you did? You just left, y/n! No warning, no explanation. Do you have any idea what that was like for me?”

“It’s not that—“ you started, but he cut you off immediately.

“For fucks sake, y/n. Fucking listen!”

“No.” You raised your voice, not letting him butter you up. “I’m not your little girlfriend anymore that you can just push around.”

“Yeah, you’re not..” he mumbled to himself, before all of his anger and disappointment spilled out of him, “BUT YOU FUCKING WERE BEFORE YOU JUST LEFT WITHOUT SAYIN’ ANYTHING.”

You froze as he screamed at you, your heart pounding in your chest as memories of the past came crashing down on you, “Rafe, calm down,” you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady, knowing you’d just make it worse if you yelled back at him now.

But he didn’t. His hand curled into a fist, breathing out in frustration and before you could stop him, he slammed it into the wall next to your head.

“FUCK.”

The sound of the wall being smashed echoed in the room, and you flinched as his fist was just inches away from you, immediately covering your face with your hands.

“Stop!” You whimpered out, voice breaking as tears rolled down your cheeks, “Please, just stop!” You collapsed onto your knees, shaking as you sobbed uncontrollably, the panic in you endless.

Just then your sobs snapped him out of it and he froze, staring at the hole in the wall and then at you. Rafe’s mind racing as he realized what he had done. Loosing his temper like that infront of you definitely wasn’t what he wanted.

“y/n,” he said quietly, stepping closer as he reached for you, wanting to comfort you. “I didn’t mean—”

You flinched at his approach, “Don’t fucking touch me!” You yelled, hands trembling as you wiped your tears away.

For a moment, neither of you moved. A few moments later you managed to calm yourself down on your own, getting onto your two feet and stepping toward the door. You just needed to get away from him. Now.

As you were about to slip put of the room you turned around one last time, glaring at him.

“You’re dead to me, Rafe. Forever.”

You didn’t look back as you walked out, leaving him alone in the dark, his knuckles still bleeding, and the weight of what he’d just done crushing him.

You didn’t wait to say goodbye or explain yourself to anyone. Your heels clicked sharply against the pavement as you rushed out of the Country Club, the muffled sounds of laughter and music fading behind you. Your chest was tight, hands trembling as you dug your car keys out of your little clutch. You couldn’t stay here—not with everything still buzzing in your head, Rafe’s voice echoing, and the imagery of old memories haunting you.

Sliding into your car, you barely buckled your seatbelt before you started the engine, peeling out of the parking lot. You had no destination in mind, only knowing you needed to get far, far away from the suffocating world of the Kooks. Far away from him.

By the time you reached the Cut, your breathing had evened out, but the knot in your chest was still there. You found yourself turning onto a familiar dirt road, one you hadn’t been on in over a year. When Barry’s rundown trailer came into view, you let out a shaky breath.

Barry’s place hadn’t changed at all. The trailer was still tilted slightly to one side, with old patio furniture spread across the lawn. Lights flickered dimly through the window, and a faint hum of music coming from the trailer.

You climbed out of your car, tugging your dress up slightly to avoid tripping as you walked to the rusty door. You knocked twice before pushing it open, stepping inside. The trailer smelled faintly of smoke and cheap cologne. Barry was leaning against the counter, a beer in his hand, and looked up at you with a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” His smirk widened as he took you in. “What’s the occasion? Someone kick you out of the Country Club?”

You gave him a look, not in the mood for his teasing. You slammed the door shut, leaning back against it. “Not in the mood, Barry.”

Barry’s smirk didn’t falter though. If anything, it grew. “Oh, she’s feisty tonight.” He took a swig of his beer. “What’s got you so worked up, Princess?”

You crossed your arms, the tension in your voice betraying your calm vessel. “I just need to distract myself. Do… do you have anything?”

Barry’s grin returned. “I got exactly what you need.”

Without missing a beat, he motioned for you to follow him to the couch. He rifled through a drawer, pulling out a stash and a grinder. “Sit tight,” he said. “But first, let’s get you outta that dress. You look like you’re gonna burst into flames if you sit on my couch in that thing.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t argue. Barry tossed you a pair of joggers and an oversized hoodie. “Here,” he said, chuckling. “Don’t say I don’t take care of you.”

Just when you returned from changing in the tiny bathroom, the living room had filled out a bit. Two guys you vaguely recognized—Nate and Lucas, old friends from the Cut—were slouched on the couch, passing a joint between them.

“Hey, stranger,” Nate greeted, his smile lazy and teasing. “Didn’t think we’d see you again. What, the Kooks finally get boring?”

You sank onto the couch beside Barry, who handed you a freshly rolled joint. You shrugged, lighting it and taking a long drag before exhaling, feeling your shoulders start to relax. “Something like that. I’ve been… away.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Where to?”

“Nowhere fun,” you replied, your tone dry. “Rehab. Or therapy. Whatever you wanna call it. My parents sent me off to this place for, like, rich kids who can’t get their shit together. A full year of group therapy.”

“What, they have you chanting mantras or some shit?” Barry asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Pretty much,” you replied, taking another hit. “It was all motivational speeches. They wanted us to ‘find ourselves.’ It was the most brainwashed shit ever.”

“Well, you seem fine now,” Nate said, his eyes trailing over you lazily. “Better than fine, actually. That rehab glow lookin hella good on you. Definitely gave you some of that fine ass back.”

Lucas laughed, dapping Nate up while you rolled your eyes.

“Charming as usual, Nate,” you said, laughing despite the obvious objectification.

Barry groaned, shaking his head as he threw an empty beer can at Nate. “Quit being a creep, man. You’re embarrassing us.”

Nate dodged the can, grinning. “Just statin’ the facts.”

You shook your head, leaning back into the couch as the haze started to settle in. You let the familiar sound of their voices take you in, the tension from earlier finally starting to fade. Here, in Barry’s trailer, the world outside felt miles away.

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @glitterybombshell @beausling @bunnyrafe @rafescokewhore @rafesweetie @rafeslacy @rafesfawn @rafesangelita @drewspinkbunny @drewsarms @dolcekissy @lilithblackkk @maybanksbaby @maybankslover @starkeysprincess @nativegirltapes @rafey-baby @httpsdrewstarkey @moremaybank @cherrygirlfriend @sematarygirls

#lovely kook!reader x rafe cameron ❀˖ °#lovely kook!reader x rafe cameron #lovely kook!reader x jj maybank #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #outer banks fic #rafe cameron fic

130 notes · View notes

stvrnzcherries · 1 day ago

Note

can you write a nick smut? it’s okay if you aren’t comfortable but there’s not much for nick in this app💙

TEACH ME

n. sturniolo x male!reader

summary: Five months ago you met Nick, your now new best friend but what happens when the attraction might be too much for you to handle?

warnings: smut, oral sex (male!receiving), mlm, use of y/n, alcohol, swearing, mention of drugs, dom!Nick, degrading kink, praise kink, handjob, hair pulling, masturbation, pet names.

word count: 3.6k

not proofread!

“I don’t have a fucking clue of what to wear,” You say as you scavenge through your closet, scanning every single item that you own. Tossing shirts and belts on the floor and a chuckle emitted from your phone on the night side table.

It was Nick, you met each other five months ago at a party, it was an instant click between the two of you, not only because you shared the same thoughts about trusting people. It made you feel such a bond that you felt like you could trust him with your life.

“Why don’t you wear that shirt you showed me the other day?” He said it seemed like he was sitting on his bed eating some popcorn while the TV screen brightened his face, different colors displaying every three seconds.

You kept scavenging your closet, the hangers swinging from side to side, a clicking sound popping up every time this motion occurred. “I had to throw that one in the washer today, I spilled juice all over it and it’s ruined.”

“So what? You can wait until the cleaning cycle is done and drop it off at the dryer, the party’s in a few hours, I don’t think it would take too long.” The bowl that he had filled with popcorn was heard in the background as if he was grabbing a handful of it.

You closed the closet doors, rubbing your face with both hands as you sighed out of stress, how’s this one party so stressful and important to you? It was the most casual thing ever and yet the anxiety was there.

“You know what, you're right, I'll just go with that shirt and maybe some baggy jeans and I’ll call it an outfit.” You sighed once again, your legs making the last effort to bump into your bed and reach out for your phone, a smile spreading on your face as soon as your eyes encountered Nick’s face.

He returned the smile and returned his attention to the TV. “You sure you don’t want us to pick you up later?” He asked, he picked up another handful of popcorn and feasted it out as if it was his last meal. “Yeah, I’ll just order an Uber, it’s way more comfortable for you guys.”

Nick rolled his eyes, his attention brought back to your face through the screen “It’s not a big deal to pick you up, you know…you’re my friend after all.” He smiles softly.

“Nick, if Matt comes here it means that he will have to drive all over where you guys came from and more, so yeah…I don’t believe that’s a good idea.” You bit your lip anxiously waiting for an answer.

Nick sighed, “Fine, fine, just share your ride so I can make sure the driver won’t kidnap you.” He smiled and raised his left hand with his thumb up.

You laughed, “See you there then?” You replied, a flirtatious expression lingering on the question as you fidgeted with your fingers, awaiting an answer from Nick.

“See you later, loser” He jokes, hanging up fast enough for you to not even think about his reaction towards your comment, you toss your phone beside you and look at the ceiling. Your eyes shift to a deep sleep, the tiredness making your eyelids feel heavy.

A buzzing sound makes you wake up from your sleep, you could feel the damp sensation of your skin and the disorientation of the abrupt shift of your eyes. You try to reach out for what’s buzzing on your bed, just to pick up your phone; Nick’s display photo pops up on the screen, the light dazzling your eyes the moment you see the picture, you answer half-asleep “Nick? What’s wrong?” Your voice was raspy as you took sharp consciousness of where you have to be right now.

“Where are you? I’ve been texting you for two hours and you don’t answer, we’re already here!” Nick says through the phone, the loud music muffling his voice slightly.

You look up at the sky before rubbing your eyes with your free hand, “Fuck…” you muttered, your hand on your forehead, rubbing it slightly as you stood up from your bed in a swift motion.

“I’ll be there in ten, I swear.” You say to Nick before hanging up and tossing your phone to your bed as you rapidly look for your stuff, such as the outfit you planned on wearing.

Before getting out of your house, you take a final look in your mirror, your baggy jeans, sleeveless shirt, and boots made you look like a seventies Hollywood star, and your hair sat the way you liked — everything looks great, somehow this makes you feel an immerse ego boost through the way you look.

After what seems like an eternity, you finally arrive at the house party. The house blasts colorful lights and music all over the first and second-floor windows. You gulped nervously, thinking about how probably Nick would be drunk and as soon as he would catch a glaze of you, he will sure kick your ass for coming three hours late.

You take cautious steps toward the inside of the house, taking a glance at the gigantic crowd that surrounds the living room and kitchen — the music blasts intensely making it difficult for you to even listen to the hustle and bustle of the people.

Your eyes finally spot Chris on the ping-pong table — playing some beer pong with a few of his friends while he has a red solo cup on his left hand, you could already tell that he’s sort of tipsy.

You make your way towards Chris, as he redirects his eyes, he catches a glimpse of your tall figure “Yo, Y/N! What's up?” He says cheerfully, and in this right instance, you could tell he was more than tipsy, he was drunk as fuck.

“Chris, hey!” You replied coyly, your sight still trying to find Nick through the crowded room but still no success at it. You look back at Chris, a smile smeared all over him, and you frown confused.

“Tryna find Nick?” He asks like a little kid hiding something.

You nodded slowly, unsure as to why is he asking about it all of a sudden. “Why? Do you know where he is?” even though, desperation takes the best out of you.

He nods — giggles escaping through his mouth as he points to the kitchen lazily and pats your back in a signal for you to stroll your way toward it. You furrow your brows once again, patting his back awkwardly before walking away.

You go through the wave of people, everyone dancing, drinking, smoking, and hooking up, As a result of your lateness this ambiance feels rushed, it feels overwhelming as each minute passes by. However, you must say it makes you fuel your desire to get into the mood any sooner after finding Nick.

You open the double door, displaying the kitchen scenario, and you breathe in the smoke that was encapsulated inside the room. It was weed, you spotted a couple making out, the girl sitting on the counter while she hungrily kissed the dude she was with. Your eyes keep scanning the room, your hopes up to find any trace of your best friend, the smoke making it sort of difficult for you to take a good look at every person that was inside the room.

Still, there was yet no trace of Nick there — you entered deeper into the kitchen, a dead end clear in your view a few meters, you spot a guy hooking up with someone — it couldn't possibly be him, wasn't it?

As if the universe could listen to every thought that you had, the guy moved, and there he was — his lips red and swollen and his eyes displayed that drunk look on them. You weren’t stupid, you knew what had happened between these two.

And somehow it made your heart shrink and your throat goes dry as a desert, you looked at the both of them nervously and stormed away from the kitchen, trying to find the nearest table that had alcohol that you could freely consume. Your body stiffens the crowd away from your path, and you spot a table with a few bottles of vodka and what seems to be some tequila.

As you arrive at the table, you get your red solo cup, a weight almost knocked you down to your right side. Chris’ cheerful voice chimes in “Did you find him, buddy?” He asks as he rubs the side of your bicep of your left arm.

You take a sip of the vodka you just poured on your cup and nod, “Yeah, he was hooking up with some dude back there in the kitchen so I left.” You replied, trying to act nonchalant, drinking more vodka to hide the nervousness that your face betrayed you with.

Chris scans your face and smiles, “Alright, you wanna get drunk or drunk drunk?” He asks, brushing the subject off completely; the mood shifts to a less tense one and more to a relaxed one.

You shrugged, downing the rest of your drink “Depends, who’s tonight’s designated driver?” You ask, even though you already know the answer. — “Matt, you know he hates these types of settings and he usually never comes with us or he stays around but doesn’t drink.”

You nod, pouring tequila now in your cup “Then, drunk drunk.” You smirk deviously.

A few hours had passed and you had been playing beer pong with Chris for a while, failing every time it was your turn on purpose to get as drunk as you could. Nick on the other hand was watching you on the other side of the room, his face somewhat in pure disbelief by how less you could’ve cared about him.

And that’s exactly what happened, you couldn’t care less about it or at least that’s how you managed to convince yourself within the next few hours. But his eyes lingering on you made you feel shivers down your spine. Self-control wasn’t your biggest forte, not when it came to being attracted to someone, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t been trying to flirt with Nick for the past few weeks. He was most definitely your type.

Those blue eyes, his hair, and his sharp jawline.

You dared to look around the room, your eyes catching a glimpse of Nick, his eyes still bore into your figure, his cup on his mouth as he took a sip and then licked his lips attentively. You feel like your breath was taken away once again, Chris’ voice making you come back to your senses, you look over your shoulder and see his cheery demeanor, both his hands loaded with two boxes of beer cans.

You smiled at him slyly, “I gotta go take a piss, I’ll come back in a second.” You tell him as you make your way upstairs, your eyes trailing on Nick before you disappear onto the second floor.

You open the bathroom door, close it behind you look at your reflection in the mirror, you decide to freshen up a little by tossing some cold water all over your face feeling the chilly sensation felt like you were back to reality, the drunk dazing fading a little. As you lift your head where the mirror is, you grab the towel beside you to dry your face.

Your eyes opened slowly and steadily, taking in the space that surrounded you, you see Nick leaning against the door, his eyes resting on yours through the mirror. You gulped nervously, your Adam’s apple prominently shadowing your throat. “You didn’t reply to my texts three hours ago and neither did you say anything when you saw me back there in the kitchen.” He says, biting the inside of his cheek.

You turned around, your hands resting against the counter and your eyes looking anywhere but Nick, “Well, back in the kitchen you seemed kind of busy and I thought I texted you when I was on my way…” You replied in an awkward tone that made Nick scoff.

“Right…and what about when you were playing beer pong? Did I look busy to you? Hm?” He walked closer to you, his eyes defiant and his arms crossed.

“Why are you being such an asshole all of a sudden?” You bluntly say, regretting it right after the words escape from your mouth.

He nodded painfully slow, you could see the resentment on his face, he scoffed before speaking again “I act like an asshole? And why the fuck is that?” He spats out, his chest heaving up and down and his breathing uneven.

You rolled your eyes, wetting your lips before talking “I honestly don’t know what you expect me to say, Nick.” — “Hi?” — “What the fuck do you want that you’re acting all this bitchy for?” You say, your breathing becoming raged as well. You look into each other’s eyes, his full of anger and a brief hint of lust.

“I’m acting bitchy? You’re acting like a fucking prick! I’m just trying to figure out why are you acting so fucking weird with me all of a sudden?” His voice rose slightly. Your noses almost touching.

“Just forget about it, alright? Seems like you were having lots of fun with Mr. drug addict back there.” You say, before walking toward the door, your grip on the handle Nick stopping you from leaving the room once again.

His eyes dart over your face, scanning you as a slight smirk appears on his face, making you feel on fire “So that’s why you’re acting like this? Because you’re jealous? He chuckles incredulously. “You’re fucking unbelievable.” He scoffs as he shakes his head.

You purse your lips, trying to contain the frustration that he is giving you as of now, “Jealous? You’re so full of yourself that you would believe that I feel jealous about that?” You spoke, even though you knew deep down that it was all a lie.

Every single thing that you just said to his face was a complete lie.

And it seemed like he could see through you, his smirk only grew as he chuckled “You’re such a liar, Y/N.” He said cornering you back again where the counter is, your lower back hitting the edge of it. Your breath hitches as your faces are mere inches away from each other’s.

Nick’s hands cupped your face, both perfectly fitting in your face, “I’m not." You replied, gulping anxiously as his head tilted to the side, crashing his lips against yours molding perfectly as if they were made for each other’s.

His hands went to the curve of your jaw, his thumbs tracing it every once in a while, as you gave him access to tangle his tongue with yours, the kiss deepening and fastening in a heated motion, feeling your heart fasten and the heat and lust emanate from your body—an evident bulge friction against your pants.

Your hands roamed over his body, traveling his skin under his shirt with your fingertips, feeling the way his abdomen contracts through the light contact and graze. The insatiable desire to feel remotely something else, share more than kisses, and feeling his skin with your fingers was making you go wild, your lips leaving his to trail and nip on his jawline and neck, giving open-mouthed kisses to that sweet spot of his.

A groan escaped from his throat his left hand tangling on your hair to push your body onto your knees, which you without hesitation do. You steady yourself, your drunken state making you almost lose balance as you go down to your knees, you look up at him, as he caresses your cheek, his thumb grazing your lips as he demands silently for you to suck it.

You do as he commands, your tongue swirling around his thumb, a clicking sound as he pops out in merely seconds. Finally, he speaks, his above a whisper. “Now, why don't you teach me how that pretty mouth of yours works?”

You didn’t need to be told twice, your hands were needy and fast unbuttoning and unzipping Nick’s pants. His bulge was already visible prior, a slight stain of his pre cum leaking, you played with the waistband of his boxers, your lips now trailing delicate kisses on his happy trail and v-line. You looked at him through your lashes his head rolling back as his hips buckled to the front looking for more contact.

You pulled his waistband down, his dick sprung free hitting his happy trail. You muffled a gasp, you’d never expected that Nick could be this big. It sort of terrified you but nothing you couldn’t take.

You cupped the base of his shaft with both your hands as you pumped them up and down painfully slow, Nick on the other hand tried to fasten up the feeling by thrusting on your fist, but ended up falling at it.

Your tongue licked slight trails around his tip, teasing and rubbing his throbbing erection, “Fuck…Y/N…” His hands went to cover his face, the teasing and pleasure being too overwhelming for him.

You felt empathy towards him when you saw his red swollen tip, his hard-on nowhere near to release, his body shudders for more and more, his pleas like music to your ears. “Please, baby…” He pleaded.

You hesitated at first but decided to give Nick what he needed the most, you open your mouth taking in the most you could of him, bobbing your head slowly. Your tongue swirled around his dick, his breathless moans making your dick twitch against your pants.

Your left hand kept rubbing his base and the rest of his cock as your mouth kept working on his length, and your right went straight to palm your clothed dick. Your groans escaped from your mouth and vibrated through Nick’s length feeling it twitch every time you kept giving him the pleasure he needed.

You looked back at him, his eyes darting over you in awe at the spectacle you were giving to him, his hand reached to touch your hair and face gently his eyes now on a less dominant look and more sweet and caring, full of pure lust and ecstasy through the new source of pleasure your mouth was offering. “Look at you, so desperate and needy to touch yourself.” He says between shaky breaths, his dominant tone still present.

You replied with another groan, his shaft twitching once again as the vibrations pulsated over him, “Even with your mouth full—you still have that little attitude, hm?” He manages to say, his head throwing back slightly when you tried to take in his full length. “M’, fucking hell…” He muttered, a whimper escaping from his lips.

You manage to unbutton and unzip your pants, the tent is more visible through your boxers, Nick smirked as he closed his eyes and let out a low moan, you gagged, your throat squelching his cock slightly, making him grow more aroused. “F-fuck…” He groaned, his hips bucking slightly as the tip of his shaft touched the back of your throat, his hands now holding your head to the sides.

Tears breamed out of your eyes, the back of your head now against the counter of the bathroom sink, your hands now were reaching to spring free your dick as Nick kept pumping in and out of your mouth, pornographic moans leaving his mouth. He looked down at you, his voice shaky and breathless “That’s right—” he cuts himself, his hands shaking, “Touch yourself—” He managed to say before a low whine came out from the back of his throat.

You allowed yourself to gently stroke your member, feeling the incredible high sensitiveness that you already possessed. Your hand slid off from your tip to your base, the new sensation relieving you, moans emitting from your mouth as Nick kept thrusting in your mouth.

You closed your eyes, the speed of your hand fastening up as the knot in your lower stomach got closer within minutes, the pleasure being so much for you that your mind felt fuzzy and foggy all of a sudden.

You kept pumping your hand into a fist, your climax only adverting to come close and quick, the waiting making you melt into a million pieces. Nick on the other side kept fucking your mouth senseless, reaching his high too.

You let out a few guttural curse words as your chest began to fall heavily, your hand stroking your cock sloppier within minutes, Nick’s hands loosen up the slightly tight grip against your head. “m- so so close…” Nick panted, your ears deceiving his words due to the amount of ecstasy you were experiencing at that point.

And that’s when you felt him reach his high, his hot cum spurt at the back of your throat, he pulled out of your mouth, taking deep breaths as he pulled his underwear and pants back on, before looking back down at you, getting on his knees as his hand helped you reach your climax quicker. “Let me help you down here, m’kay?” He says, his voice low and raspy.

You nodded, whimpers escaping through your lips as the pleasure set into new levels, your back arching as the knot inside your stomach snapped within seconds, threads of your seed shoot right straight to Nick’s fist and yours. Your breathing ragged and your chest fell up and down heavily, your face glazed slightly with sweat as you finished to swallow the last trails of Nick’s juices.

“Good job, baby,” He said before letting his forehead fall against yours, your noses touching, the both of you trying to catch each other’s breaths. Faintly smiles spread across each other's faces.

tag list: @sturniolossss @tillies33ssss @chrisloyalgf @alorsxsturn @sturnioloslurps @cindylcuwho @3mm4yung @chrissfavwh3re @blahbel668 @lov3bug @starsturns234 @junnniiieee07 @mstarniolo @sara2233445 @teenagetrash00 @mattsturnioloisbae @mbbsgf @thecynthh @braindead4l @freshsturns @lexisecretaccx @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi @sturncakez @sweetlikesug4rvenom @sturniolo-slut @madiflipowicz @lizzymacdonald06 @sturniololuv08

#sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x reader #nick x reader #lgbtq #smut #stvrnzcherries˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚#nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine

66 notes · View notes

formylovetodaryldixon · 2 days ago

Text

"The way to heal a heart." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

When his heart can’t stand the pain of a loss, you discover why Daryl ignored you all those days. But there, you tell your husband the way his heart can heal.

A/N: Based on the conversation between Maggie and Daryl after Glenn's death. (Spoiler alert: also Daryl briefly threatening a poor guy for touching you, because I don't like things to get too serious TT-TT) Hope you like it. Thank you!

The small and cozy cabin loses the amber glow that the fire of the small chimney caused when Daryl throws the sand on the hot embers, extinguishing all the flames. Lying on the small bed, you watch silently as the place loses its color, but the heat is still impregnated in the air and on the walls, and you feel it as a little shelter for your husband and for you, far from the walkers and the world in general.

When Daryl reaches the bed, he kicks off his boots, taking off his vest next, his shirt and his pants, leaving them on the floor to get in the bed too, where the heat of his body wraps you as he puts his left arm around you, resting on his right side to stroke your belly under the covers.

Living there was good, but that wasn’t the reality and you two had to take a step to it, so tomorrow you two would go to the Hilltop.

“I wish I had said good-bye.” You say. King Ezekiel didn’t offer his help to fight against Negan, but you would always thank him for his help towards Daryl. “I think we should leave the kingdom in the right way.”

Although Daryl didn’t like that the king hadn’t helped you all, he recognized Ezekiel’s gesture towards him.

“We can come back someday. Kids were crazy ‘bout ya.”

Even if you trained them to protect themselves during your stay, they kept the innocence within, intact and bright, despite how cold and grey the new world had become. But the future was uncertain for them and for you two, and you worry about what would happen next.

“Do you think we’ll be okay after all this?”

Daryl was never a person who thought of the future either, the difficulties of his life took him to live one day at a time, without great plans or big expectations. But he found you there, as a light of hope, and then he found himself wanting more. He didn’t dream of impossible things, but simply asking to have one more day with you.

“As long as we’re together everythin’ will be fine.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I want to.” He says, looking softly at you. His doubts and his negatives had consumed his life in the old world, but he had to find himself falling too deep to then realized that he wanted to live in this new one. “Close yer eyes, peach. We’ll leave early tomorrow.”

The hours pass when you fell asleep and it feels like being on a cloud, far from the fear of dying or losing your people. There is no heavy guilt on your shoulders, no recollections of who you were and who you had to become to survive, no walkers, no blood, without a world painted red. But suddenly, your heart starts feeling heavy, and your body sinks into a complete darkness, fear and weeping. Your closed eyelids move, trying to wake you up from that high fever, until finally, you do. You sit on the bed, taking a big breath of air, back in reality where the cabin is no longer warm, but then you realize the nightmare isn’t yours. It is not in your head, but in Daryl’s.

“Daryl, hey, wake up…” You shake his shoulder. Lying still on right left side, his body moves against the bed, his hair covering his face as he complained. “Daryl!”

The last push finally awakes him, and for a moment, Daryl finds himself looking to the void, in a place far away from there as he sits down too and breathes through his parted lips, his gaze lost and his chest rising and falling sharply.

“Hey, it’s okay, it was just a nightmare–”

“No… it was somethin’ else.”

“What?”

But Daryl remains silent for a while, never saying what it really was. The cool night air helps him to calm down, and Daryl finally comes to be himself after he was lost in his own memories.

“Ya should… lie down again.”

He looks at your side of the bed with his head down as he did when he was ashamed, and without saying anything else, he lay back down with his back to you. In that moment, you realize Daryl is suddenly far gone again, but you don’t want to force anything with him, so you just lay sideways too, your gaze fixed on the scars on his back.

It takes you some time to fall asleep, but the hours pass in a few seconds when you do, and then, it is day again: the birds are singing a sweet song, and it is time to leave. The muscles of your body are tense, and you find yourself staring at the wooden ceiling after you rub your burning eyes with your fists.

“Time to go, peach…” Daryl is standing at the table, already dressed as he packs his backpack and yours. “Get yer pretty ass out of bed and get dressed.”

He seems to be in a good mood that morning, so you decide not to press him to speak and wait for him to do it first.

There are no walkers around the forest near the Hilltop, and the group of future archers had improved greatly in the previous days since you and Daryl got there. But when the afternoon falls slowly, there are only two people with you, a young man and a young woman, siblings, twins. They are the best in the group; they are the strongest too, especially since they are not afraid to fight for their freedom.

“Have you been married for a long time, (Y/N)?”

Sean is a good man, young, brave, handsome, determined, but blushes when Mary, standing in front of you two, chuckles to herself before shooting her arrow that hit the target perfectly. She and her brother live in a trailer and they gave Daryl and you a place in their home.

“Sometimes it feels like centuries.” You chuckle at him, and then, you look back at Mary. “That was amazing, Mary, well done. You are getting better every day.”

She smiles at you.

“Are you flirting with (Y/N), Sean?” Maggie’s voice behind you makes everyone turn around. The knife-throwing lesson group is already moving away in the distance to get back home, and only Maggie and Sasha are left. “That’s a very bad idea.”

“If Daryl finds out I don’t want to think what he would do.” Sasha chuckles, making fun of him. “He doesn't like people getting too close to his wife. He just wants (Y/N) all by himself.”

Suddenly, Sean looks frightened, because he had met a very silent Daryl. That scared the strangers.

“Thank you, Sasha.” You say, but she just laughs as you look at Sean with a soft gaze. “They're kidding, Sean, please, don't listen to them.”

Maggie chuckles.

“Okay, it’s time to go, guys. Get your things and go home.”

Everyone on the Hilltop respected Maggie, so the twins take their things and walk in the same direction as the other group after saying goodbye. You walk towards the tree and pick up the arrows. They are firm against the trunk, and you think how easy it would be to embed it in the body of the enemy. But that is a dark thought, so you push it away and go back with the girls to walk through the woods.

“Is Daryl okay, (Y/N)?”

Your gaze moves from the front and you look to your left without stopping. Maggie waits, her eyes looking at you with concern. You know where her question is going, because since you and Daryl came to that place, he couldn’t look at Maggie in the eyes.

“Yeah. He is.”

Your short answer makes her nod, thoughtful, but she is not satisfied with it. Maggie loved Daryl, she worried about him, and you knew nothing had changed for her.

“He seems distant these days.”

You knew perfectly well that Daryl was being distant with everybody. He disappeared all day in the forest and barely spoke at night, and the only one who seemed to be able to approach him was Jesus. It hurt you to think that Daryl didn’t lean on you as your husband, but he was like that and you knew it when you married him, and now, you couldn’t complain.

The amber light from lamp on the picnic table glows in the dark and cold night as you and Jesus play cards. You sit down on the wooden chair and rest your elbows on the table, having a good time with him, but you didn’t tell him that you only stayed up so late because Daryl hadn’t yet returned.

Time passed and you worried more.

“And… straight flush!” Jesus throws his cards on the table feeling like a winner. All his cards are hearts: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. “Beat that, (Y/N).”

You chuckle.

“It is impressive, Jesus, but you don’t win with that…” You push your cards on the table, too, five cards of spades from 10 to ace, without feeling like a winner though. “I think this is a Royal flush. And it means I win.”

Jesus leans his elbows on the table and his expression falls.

“If this was not ordinary poker I would have lost all my clothes by now.”

You laugh, and for a moment, that seems like a very distant memory. Jesus begins to laugh with you, but his smile falls as the gates open and he looks back. You both look in the same direction and see Daryl coming in with his crossbow around his body and a canvas bag that seems to be heavy, so surely he had hunted some animals.

Jesus turns again and picks up all the cards as Daryl walks towards you two. The distance is long so Jesus speaks freely, with softly.

“He’s just having a bad time, (Y/N), but don’t worry about him.”

It was impossible not to worry about him.

“I know his personality is… special, but it’s a bit hurtful that he still can not talk to me.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t want to do it, it’s just that Daryl doesn’t want to worry you. He doesn’t know how to do it, too.” He sighs. “Should we play again?”

You are still not sleepy and being awake turning on the bed is not a tempting idea, so you nod while finally, Daryl reaches you two.

“Shouldn’t ya be sleepin’?” He asks, his voice low and hoarse.

He cares about you, he always did.

“We’re playing cards.”

“I’m playing; (Y/N) is kicking my ass.” Jesus chuckles, handing out the cards. “Do you want to play, Daryl?”

“Nah. I’ll go to sleep.”

Daryl just passes you by and walks towards the trailer. You feel that your body falls when you exhale, but you take the cards to forget the matter, at least for a while.

After about 25 minutes, you call it a night when your eyelids start to feel heavy, so you say goodnight to Jesus and walk back to the trailer. You didn’t sleep much anymore, but sometimes, under the apparent protection of the gates surrounding you, you could lay down for a while, to stop thinking.

Inside and on the other side of the trailer, Sean and Mary are sleeping too, so you quietly take off your boots before lying down on the bed. From his side, Daryl sleeps with his back to you. However, lying on your left side and as you drift off into a light sleep, you feel Daryl rolling over in bed, blindly searching for the warmth of your body, pressing himself against you, because that reminded him that he is still alive.

In the Hilltop orchard, you are glad to see the vegetables growing perfectly. The days were good in that place because the people accepted you two so fast. Mutual help was what increased the trust between the community and the new guests, and until then, everything went well.

Squatting, in front of the orchard, your hands become dirty as you remove some soil.

“Normal people would wear gloves, (Y/N).” Sean chuckles, appearing in front of you as you stand up.

“Are you calling me weird?” You tease him and run the back of your hand down your face to scratch your cheek. “I thought you were practicing with the bow.”

“I was going to go now, but I thought you were going with us.” He smiles a little bit, kind of shy.

You smile a little bit too.

“Not today, Sean. My arm hurts.”

The bowstring used to scrape your skin every time you released the rope, and the friction was starting to burn, but the truth is that you are tired mentally after last night.

“(Y/N)…” Sean chuckles, again. “You have some dirt on your cheek.”

Your first reaction is to clean it, but getting even more soil on your face. Sean tries not to laugh, and you wipe your hands on your jean before trying again.

“I think I should have worn gloves. Guess you were right after all.” You chuckle. “But don't tell Sean, I don't want him to think he's always right.”

He smiles.

“Here… let me do it for you.” Sean hides his hand on his long sleeve to help, and he wipes your face gently. “We don’t want you to go around here with your pretty face dirty.”

But there, just as in the romantic books you used to read before the world went to hell; Daryl has to arrive at the wrong time to misunderstand the situation completely, and in that moment, he takes Sean’s arm and pushes it away from you.

“Keep yer hands off ma wife or I’ll break ‘em, kid. I ain’t gonna say it twice.”

You feel terrible, because Sean is still young and easy to scare.

“Daryl…” You call him in such a firm voice that he turns to look at you. The fire inside is suddenly burning, but Sean is not the one to blame for anything. “Sean, leave us alone, please.”

He looks at Daryl and then at you, wondering if you would be okay. But, even scared of Daryl's horrible silence the past few days, Sean remains in his place.

“(Y/N), are you sure?” He whispers, and his small words are enough to make Daryl narrow his eyes, giving Sean a look full of anger.

“Are ya fuckin’ thinkin' I’m gonna hurt ma wife, kid?” But before Daryl can take a step towards him, you block his way with your body, causing your husband to stop dead in his tracks, however, you can’t stop him from keep talking. “Ya better walk away ‘fore I start beatin’ your ass.”

You are mad as hell, but you pull yourself together before trying again.

“Daryl, shut it!” You say firmly again, without raising your voice because that wasn’t in your nature, sadly, and you look at Sean. “Sean, leave. In any case, I would hurt him first so don’t worry. Go, please.”

Unsure, Sean walks away, but it's your confident words that keep Daryl looking at you. However, before you could say anything to him, you hear the man on the gates screaming that the saviors are coming.

“(Y/N)! Daryl!” Enid shouts running toward you from the gates, and you two run towards her and meet halfway. “You two must hide. The saviors should not know that you two are here.”

“Wait, no…” You say quickly. “We must find Maggie first. She’s in the woods with the others.”

“Jesus went to warn her. She will be alright. Come on!” Enid runs toward the building behind and you two run after her.

The sound of the cars become clearer and the gates open just as you all surround the building. Enid stops at the wooden doors that would lead you two to a cellar in a small basement, but it doesn’t feel right, not while the others are exposed with the saviors there.

However, Daryl opens the door and waits for you to enter.

“I will come for you when they are gone.” Enid says behind you.

Against everything, you walk down the stone steps and open the wooden door to enter the cellar while the place sinks in the darkness the moment Enid closes the doors above. The vegetable baskets are stack on shelves, and you push one to the side, which had enough space for you to hide in case someone come down. But, when you turn, you see Daryl staring through a hole in the door with his knife in his hand.

“Daryl, this is not the right time…” You whisper. Your mouth is dry and you feel your heart as tight as your stomach. “Please, don’t do it, not now.”

The plea in your voice surprise him, so he turns around and you both hide. The shadows of the basement serve as protection as he pushes the shelf back into the right place. It is not long before the outside doors open again, and the light enters through the cracks in the wood. You hold your breath when one of the saviors comes in, watching everything around him and then taking a basket. The place is full with food and the savior begins to collect the vegetables, piling them near the door.

And again and again, he turns his back on you, unprotected. Daryl lifts the knife in his hand, squeezing it hard, so close to kill the savior. But, even if you know he could handle one of them, they are too many outsides for you to make it alive, so you raise one hand and close it around his wrist, soft but firm, and at then, he finally looks at you after days. His blue eyes hold your gaze, and you slowly shake your head to stop him.

Fortunately, the savior takes his things and leave. Your heart feels less heavy and you breathe again as Daryl and you step out of that little hiding place. Doubts return to you, and you wonder how much harm those people could do, and how much harm you could do, and you ask for the time when you only had to worry about the walkers.

“I could have killed him.” Daryl grunts with his back in front of you.

The hatred to them for having kept him in that cell was never going to disappear.

“I know well you could. But you didn’t think about the consequences.”

Through his shirt, you see his back tighten.

“I never do it, do I? That’s why people die… ‘cause of me.”

The guilt you hear in his voice takes your breath away. Daryl really believed that, and his voice was so sincere and broken that it breaks your heart. The guilt is on his shoulders, you can see it more clearly know, so heavy that he can hardly bear it.

“Daryl…” You say, preparing to say your best friend’s name. “Glenn’s death was not your fault.”

Daryl turns, head down and part of his hair covering his face. His strength is destroyed, and he sobs before he speaks.

“It was… I have nightmares 'bout it. If I had not been so stupid…”

“Daryl, no…” You try again, taking a deep breath before. It is hard for you to hear his words, because they weren’t true. “Things happen, people die and we can’t help it, but we can honor their lives, fight for the things they believed in. They are not here but we are, and now I understand that we owe them this because they deserve it. Glenn was brave, kind, strong, and had a beautiful heart that not everyone has. He stayed true to himself, he didn’t lose part of him in this world, and he loved you so much because you and he were exactly the same.” Silent tears are about to fall from your eyes, but you stop them for a moment. “Talk to Maggie, okay? Listen to her and believe when she tells that she loves you so much because she wouldn’t lie to you. The way she sees you has not changed at all. But you have to forgive yourself even if you are not guilty of anything. Be stronger and fight for Glenn, make him feel proud. It’s the only way you can live in peace.”

He takes a moment, but finally, Daryl nods, he wipes his face and tries to hold your gaze.

“I’m sorry for leavin’ ya alone these days. I’m so sorry, peach.” He says softly, and you walk to him to put your arms around his shoulders. He clings to you like his life depends of it, arms around your waist, holding your body against him. His beard tickles your bare neck and he takes a deep breath before looking back at you, but without letting you go from his side. “And I would never hurt ya, never, y’know it, right?”

You let out a sigh, knowing that from there, things would get better.

“I know, love, but you still have to apologize to Sean.” You smile a little bit just to lighten the mood, pushing away a few strands of his hair out of his face to look into his eyes, but at the same time letting him know that you are serious. “If not, I'm going to have to hurt you, like, seriously.”

Daryl smiles softly, and he nods, hugging you again.

At that very moment, he is letting out all the pain that was hurting him all that time, but that was the first step to healing. And you know that everything would improve over time. Hearts healed at their own pace but they did eventually. And right there, your hearts are regenerating, closing their wounds and beating harder than before.

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon #twd daryl

54 notes · View notes