#will probably take like. a year to get there

[bi-writes]

anatomy of us (2) | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader

type: limited series, part 2 (7.2k) in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you.

series cw: reader described as plus-sized/curvier, alpha/beta/omega dynamics + universe, dark!simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence, military criticism, protective!simon, dubcon (but reader does consent), possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, praise kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving) 18+

PART 1

Tradition is not something you are fond of.

It’s something forced on you. When you question it, it’s offensive–how dare you question these things, made sacred over time? Why would you want to betray thousands of years of history? Time makes it definitive. Your being makes it natural. You submit because that is the natural thing to do, so in that sense, you submit to it all.

That is your duty. That is your calling. When you are claimed, you belong to them. You are property. Autonomy be damned–your place is on your knees, keeping your mouth shut, and any behavior against that is nothing short of a punishable offense, proper. Disobedient omegas make for troublesome households.

To keep you in line, you must be held at a short length from your alpha. It is what is done. It is what is expected.

Tradition.

Simon keeps a hand on you, curled at the base of your spine as he leads you back to where the sleeping quarters are. You know it’s for your protection, but the better part of you wants to smack him off of you whenever you feel his palm press just slightly against you. When you make it back into your room, Simon pauses in the doorway after he opens it for you. He looks nervous almost, sheepish. You turn to face him, looking him up and down. “You can come in if you want. I’m not gonna carry all my stuff by myself, you could probably carry a fucking tank looking at you.”

Simon finally comes inside, ducking his head a little to make it in. You know this room wasn’t meant to house an alpha, but it’s still startling to see him do it, taking up way too much space to be anything but claustrophobic. He watches as you pack your things, stuffing your clothes into your bags and picking up small trinkets around the bedside table and desk. After the bag starts to get heavy, you shove it into his arms as you look towards the bed. It’s a standard issue twin-sized, with barely enough sheets to keep you warm and a lumpy pillow that you hate. You make a face at it before turning around and putting more things into Simon’s arms as you empty the closet.

“Tha’ it?” Simon mutters, still able to peek over the mountain of items that he holds, and you shrug.

“That’s it.”

Simon’s own room is like a hospital room. It’s too clean–there’s nothing personal anywhere, no pictures or barely any clothes other than military issue fatigues. The only civilian clothes he has wouldn’t even make you think twice if you saw him in a bar–Simon will always look like a soldier, through and through, and his room stinks like it. It smells clinical, and nothing about it is cozy or warm. You stand in the middle of the room as Simon puts your things down. You ring your hands together nervously, eyeing the bed with one single, thin sheet on it. It’s too small of a bed for the both of you. It’s too small of a bed just for Simon–you don’t want to think about the kind of sleeping arrangements you’ll need to fit with him on it.

“Wot’s wrong?” Simon asks lowly. You look over your shoulder at him. He’s putting your things into the closet. He’s divided it in half already, and some of your clothes are already hung up next to his. You look back at the bed, pursing your lips.

“There’s not enough blankets,” you say softly. “A-And…And the pillows, here, I don’t like them.”

Simon turns back to your bag, picking up another shirt to hang. You glare at the back of him. It doesn’t do anything; he doesn’t erupt in flames like you might have hoped, but it does give you a moment to notice how well those jeans fit him.

Fuck. Keep it together.

“I’ll get you more blankets,” he shrugs. “And a different pillow.”

The answer is immediate. No fuss. You want to complain, to bite back at him for it, but you don’t know how you would explain your displeasure. You’re looking for a reason to tell your omega that she’s a scheming, hopeless, naïve little shit.

“...I don’t have to win you when y’r already mine.” Isn’t that what he had said? Isn’t that what he had said when he gripped you by the throat and made you realize that everything you had thought about alphas was true? Hadn’t he already shown you that none of them are redeemable?

Not Kate. Not John. Certainly not Simon–they’re all scheming, terrible fucking people, and you cannot wait until you can sink your teeth into Simon’s jugular and rip it out.

Belonging to, being one’s own, fuck if you care. Simon can claim ownership all he wants, but he’ll never tame you. Your omega might be pulling the strings at the moment, but you’re going through withdrawals, you think. Your medication was your lifeline. It kept you from falling off the tightrope, and you just need to learn how to stay upright without it. You can. When you get it back, when it’s in your hands again, she’ll understand.

She has to understand that only you know what’s good for you.

Simon places the rest of your things on his desk. A couple personal things, like your jewelry and some knickknacks, and then your bag with the rest of your clothes to be folded and put away. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath. At least before, you could pretend like things were still a little normal. You could pretend that in your own room, you were simply waiting for another assignment, that you were just waiting for Kate to give you a call and move you somewhere new, somewhere safer.

“Am I just supposed to stay here and wait for you?” You ask finally. Simon shuffles around the room. He doesn’t look at you; instead, he takes a seat at a desk way too small for him and spreads a few papers around, frowning when he reads something that he doesn’t like. “Is that…is that my job?”

“Dunno.” Simon takes his phone out of his pocket, and he starts typing. “Don’t really feel like babysittin’.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” you tell him. “I…I have combat experience. I was in training before this.”

Simon snorts, still focused on his phone. He shakes his head a little.

“Cute,” he mutters. “Tha’s cute.”

Patronizing shit.

“I bet I can shoot a target ten times better than you,” you spit at him. His fingers hover over the screen for just a moment, irritated, before he goes back to typing. “And I can hold my own. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Simon puts his phone back into his pocket. He crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a deep breath before coming over to stand in front of you. You tip your head back, and he reaches down with a hand to cup under your jaw, holding you there. Just like that–your omega has you. You lean in, just that much. Simon sees it in your eyes, and he sniffs, looking you over.

Maybe he thinks you’re pathetic. In some sense, you agree with him, because what the fuck is wrong with me? You get one look into Simon’s eyes, and something chemical in you fires. You bend, and you relax, and you know if he asked you to open your mouth so he could spit in it, it would take a tremendous amount of effort to tell him no. It angers you and excites you all the same, and the conflicting flashes under your ribs bring tears to your eyes.

You hate yourself. You hate yourself for not being able to say no. You hate yourself for being everything they said you would be. You hate yourself for being nothing like you thought you were.

You’re soft. Sweet. All bark, no bite, a spiteful kitten that deep down, aims to please. The only thing that really baffles you, though, is why you only feel this way with Simon.

Is it because they told you that you were his mate? Is it because he’s done something, that he’s projecting some kind of scent? Has he already unknowingly changed your very makeup so your body knows that you are bound to him? When you look into John’s eyes, you see alpha. You see big, salivating dog, and if you could, you’d rip the hairs of his beard out just to see him in pain.

But Simon–it’s like you can’t move. Every time you look at him, and he looks at you, he holds you there. Just like now, he’s got you, and you feel like he can read everything you’re feeling. He’s being fed your secrets, and you hate him for it, but I can’t look away, please look away, please don’t make me–

“Need to get you somethin’ to eat,” Simon says finally. “And it’s time to meet the rest of the lot.”

Simon is starting to get used to keeping a hand on you. It annoys you a little, to feel his hand at your back, but the annoyance dissolves when you realize this base is filled with sneering alphas. They holler and yell, and they are very large and angry, but they still are small compared to Simon. They quiet whenever they walk past you, and even the whiff of omega doesn’t deter them with Simon behind you.

In the mess hall, you see Captain Price sitting at a table with two others. When you get closer to the table, you cough a little, stumbling back, and Simon catches you around the waist to hold you upright. The stench of alphas hits you like a truck, and Simon grunts as he tells you relax, fuckin’ hell.

You give him a hard stare–how the fuck would he know? There’s four alphas in your close vicinity, and they’re all puffing their chests and smiling, and it stings to smell them all at once. You turn your head a little to shield yourself, and when you filter everything else out but Simon, it frustrates you a little how much of him seems to calm you down.

Smells so good. Get closer. Press your nose to it, I-I want more–

“I see you two are getting along nicely,” John comments, leaning back in his chair. You roll your eyes a little, and when you lock eyes with him, you purse your lips and try to look anything but pleased. Simon guides you to sit down; he motions to the bench, just to the left of where someone else is already sitting–a big, burly soldier with crazy blue eyes. He has a terrible haircut, short along the sides with tufts of curls falling down the middle and over his forehead. He’s wiggling his eyebrows at his lieutenant behind you. Across from him, there’s another alpha with dark eyes and soft skin, and he’s smiling like an idiot around the rim of his plastic cup. You’re a little nervous–you had spent most of your time on your old base surrounded by betas who barely gave you a glance, and now you’re off your meds and being hit with a million different sensations everywhere you go. Simon’s touch on your back eases your shoulders a little.

“Tha’s Johnny,” Simon points to the one next to you. “Tha’s Gaz. ‘n I’m sure ya had the pleasure of our Captain.”

“Yeah, looks like your beard is still in tact, so glad to see it,” you say curtly, crossing your arms over your chest. The two sergeants laugh, ducking their heads, and John raises a brow before looking at Simon with a clenched jaw. Simon just shrugs, stretching his arm out on the back of your chair, and you get the feeling this happens often–John giving Simon that look, and Simon merely brushing it off. You smile to yourself a little, looking at Simon from over your shoulder. When you meet eyes, he stares back, looking over your face. He lingers on your lips for just a second too long before looking back up again.

I bet he tastes good under that mask. Let’s find out.

“Hungry?” He asks, and you blink. Your omega has never been inside of your head like this. You nearly opened your mouth and asked him for it, asked him please, please–let me taste, I won’t look, just let me taste you. You swallow her down a little, and you just nod to keep yourself moving. Simon stands up to make his way towards where the food is, and you watch curiously as instead of standing in line, he pushes open a door into the kitchen and disappears behind it.

“LT’s been gettin’ ye special meals,” Johnny says with a full mouth. You frown a little, and not just cause he’s chewing with his mouth a little too open.

“What do you mean?”

“He has the cooks make you somethin’ special,” Gaz says as he takes a sip of water. He leans back, smiling again, and it irks you a little. Alphas are brutes, disgusting big things with too many hormones, and you hate that this one gets to be pretty, too. Not that John or his sergeant aren’t attractive, but this one definitely enjoys a good mirror selfie, and it shows. “Something not on the menu. He didn’t like that you weren’t eating much, at the beginning. Made a fuss, and now he gets you better food.”

“He can do that?”

“Well, would ye say no to tha’ big man?” Johnny snorts, dipping his crusty bread in sauce. You look back towards the door, and Simon comes out holding a tray. He sets it down in front of you, and you bite your lip looking down at it. It smells so good, and you pick up your fork gently, sticking it into the pasta and twirling it. When you take a bite and sigh, Simon takes a seat next to you, and you can barely hear the sweet rumble in his chest of satisfaction.

Providing for you. Taking care of you. He’s so capable, isn’t he? Look at what he does for you.

If Simon notices you scoot closer to him, he doesn’t say anything. You don’t react either–it wasn’t a conscious choice.

Simon’s shower has hot water. Not that the showers you’d had were cold, but the communal showers were just that–communal. Shared, and although your escort always made sure you were the only one in there while you showered, it was still feeding off a water heater that always had barely any juice left. Lukewarm showers, so you tried to finish quick.

Simon’s shower turns the water scalding. You giggle with relief when you stand under it, letting it loosen your sore muscles and relieve your aching bones. It feels good, and you take a little longer in there, taking your time and enjoying the heat.

When it’s time to wash your body, you realize you’re missing your own soap. You look around for something else, noticing the unlabeled bottle that rests on a ledge. You squirt a pump of it into your palms, and when you raise it to your nose, your eyes flutter shut.

It’s the eucalyptus you smelled on Simon. A little plastic aftersmell, which you know is from whatever backwater dollar store the military buys it from, but on Simon, it smells so good. You lather it in your hands and hold it up to your nose, and you sigh deeply.

He’s just outside. Why don’t you call for him? I bet he’s listening. I bet he’s waiting for us.

You slide your hands down your arms. With the heat of the water, the whole bathroom starts to smell like it, and you let your hands slide down further, over your waist, between your thighs. When your fingers touch your puffy clit, you’re nearly jolted back into reality.

“Fuck–” You gasp, reaching for the level, shutting the water off. The last of the water curls down the drain, and you cough as you look around. You curl your toes, grounding yourself, and then you get out of the shower and reach for the towel. When you look into the mirror, your pupils are blown wide, and you feel like you don’t recognize yourself. You drop the towel and dress yourself, trying to keep your mind occupied with menial tasks.

Get your shit together.

When you open the bathroom door, Simon is back from his little errand he had run. He’s carrying a few blankets and a thick comforter, and there’s a few new pillows on the bed with it. You use the towel to keep drying the wet strands of your hair, and Simon turns around when he hears you walk in further.

You pass by him wordlessly as you reach the bed. You put your hands on the blankets that he put down, and you close your eyes when you feel how soft they are. Threaded cotton and fleece, lots of thick feathers in the comforter to make it nice and fluffy. When you turn to look over your shoulder, Simon does a terrible job of pretending like he wasn’t just staring at your ass in the little sleep shorts you’re wearing. You want to snap at him, but your omega pinches your tongue.

Take them off. Take them off. Take them off.

“So, what…” You clear your throat. “How are we supposed to sleep in that bed? T-Together?”

Simon tilts his head to the side. You start to despise the mask. You hate that you can’t tell what he’s thinking, not even a little, and after the rather joyous conversations you’ve had with Simon (barf), you can’t say you’re entirely excited to be in this close of a space with him.

“Don’t worry,” Simon murmurs. “I’ll be good.”

Oh, that totally makes you feel better.

Prick.

He makes you get into bed and turn facing the wall as he turns out the lights. He pulls at the edge of his mask uncomfortably, and you realize he doesn’t want you to see his fine. Fine, you think to yourself, throwing the sheets back with a huff, bet you’re fucking ugly mug would blind me anyways.

You cuddle under all the blankets, snuggling into the new pillow that sinks under your head. You hum gently, closing your eyes, and you aren’t able to see Simon rubbing his chest warmly as he watches you. He sucks on his teeth, not truly understanding what he feels, but knowing that it’s soothing the beast in him to take care of you.

It rattles him. Simon isn’t used to this. He’s not used to feeling like he doesn’t have control. He resisted this for so long. He tried so hard to fight, he said no to Kate over and over and over again.

Omegas to Simon were liabilities. To care was to have a target on your back. To be mated meant having something to lose.

Ask Price, is what he told her, ask the fuckin’ sergeants, anyone but me, but she wouldn’t hear it. It had to be him, it had to be, and then she locked him into a room with her, and she leveled with him.

She told him that you are special. That you are precious. That omegas like you don’t exist, that you are one in a single generation, and there isn’t anyone else in the world that will do except for him.

Price, married to the field. The sergeants, immature and might as well be titled barracks bunnies. But Simon–purebred, quiet, controlled. Terrified of himself and what he is. His unofficial pack that he defends with his entire being, that is the only alpha worth giving to you.

Kate had thought about it before. What it might be like to push the hair away from your neck and sink her teeth there. As easy as putting her signature to paper, she could have the CIA running laps to keep you protected, but she knew that wasn’t the life for her. It couldn’t be.

In every situation, Kate would have to choose that lesser evil, and in her world, it would mean her choice would unlikely be you.

Simon? Simon answered to no one. Unlike his sergeants, he cared little for authority; he wouldn’t blink twice saying no to his superior. Unlike his Captain, Simon didn’t mind choosing the bloody way out. He was the first with his finger on the trigger, and the last to sweep a room. Kate knew–if Simon had to choose between the greater good and the omega he claimed?

Fuck the greater good. That, she could count on.

If Kate only asked for one thing, it would be this. She did promise you. She promised she would keep you away from it all. She promised that she would make things right. She promised that she would protect you, but even Kate answers to others, and the reality of this kind of world is that the only way to really protect you was to give you away.

To put you into the same world that you had only begged to be kept away from.

Nobody likes playing matchmaker, but maybe putting together the most stubborn and angry people in the world might save you from yourselves. At least she hoped so.

You’re nearly asleep when you feel Simon come to bed. All the lights are off, and it’s pitch black in the room. There’s some shuffling around the room, and then you feel the blankets move. All of the sudden, a heat stronger than you’ve ever felt takes up the entire bed. Pressed against your back, a solid chest, and then a huge arm falls over your waist.

“We cuddling now?” You mumble sleepily, and Simon breathes out slowly, not responding. When you fall asleep, it’s unnervingly easy. Your omega purrs, digging her nails into you, and when you turn your head in the dark and feel the brush of his unmasked face against yours, she preens.

He’s right there–just a little taste. Just a little. Please, please, please–

Omegas cannot claim, but they can bite. It takes everything inside of you not to sink your teeth into him.

“You smell that? Smells like fuckin’ sweets, mates.”

You take off your headphones and safety glasses, looking over your shoulder. There’s a few recruits a few lanes down from you, wiggling their eyebrows and licking their lips. One of them crudely grabs his crotch, winking at you. You make a face.

Gross.

“Let me see you, baby. Smell so good.”

You holster the gun you’re holding, leaning against the counter with your hip. You raise a brow, tilting your head to the side.

“Are you done?” You ask, and they take that as their cue to start walking closer. An invitation.

They don’t get very far. You smell him before you see him. On instinct, your shoulders relax with that whiff of charcoal. You push off the counter just in time for him to come up behind you, and you feel the heat of his chest as it presses against your back. The recruits in front of you stop immediately, and you feel a disgusting sense of satisfaction when Simon bends over your shoulder to look at you.

“‘n wot’s this?” Simon growls. You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know. They wanna have a dick-measuring contest, but I think they’re afraid they’re gonna lose,” you say. You let out an annoyed sigh, turning again to put your safety glasses on. You put the headphones back over your ears and take the gun out of your holster, turning the safety off as you line it up with the paper targets near the back of the course. “You know. Cause my dick is way bigger.”

You unload the clip just for fun. You’re supposed to be practicing on accuracy, which for you meant slower, spaced-out shots to try and hit the same spot over and over, but the sound of the gun going off again and again helps distract you from the laughing, untrained dogs that are littered across the shooting range.

When you put the gun down after emptying the magazine, Simon is salivating. The paper target head is obliterated, each bullet almost next to its last. When you turn around, Simon tilts his head to the side. You holster the gun, starting to walk, and Simon lets his eyes drop to the sway of your hips as you pass by him. It’s not a conscious decision, the way his fingers curl into fists and squeeze hard.

“Told you,” you say to him. “Huge dick, right, baby?”

Something flares in Simon’s chest when he hears it. Like a switch, his legs start moving, following you, and when he passes by a recruit that is standing much too close to you, Simon shoves the recruit back so hard, they smack their nose against the wall and curses from the impact, blood dripping under their bruised nose.

The rest of the day, you don’t see another rookie walk even five feet into your vicinity. Even without a mark on your neck, you are claimed, and right before you leave your room for dinner, Simon is fitting a dark hoodie over your head. The smell overwhelms you. It’s soaked in his scent, and you turn to face him, looking at him suspiciously. Your omega keeps you from questioning him. She wants you to start walking, because she knows he’ll touch you when you do.

It’s that night that Simon asks John for you to join them. All Simon does is slide the shredded paper target across his desk. John picks it up, tacking it onto the wall. He chuckles, shaking his head. It’s an impressive piece of paper, but being a good shot isn’t the only reason someone is cleared to work with them. Even besides that, it’s forbidden.

“Omegas aren’t allowed in the field, Simon,” John reminds him. “You know that.”

“Think tha’s why we should take her,” Simon mutters. “She’s a distraction. A good one.”

“A weapon,” John frowns. He can already hear Kate screaming into his ear if she ever saw you geared up between them on an op.

“A tool.”

“And what does she think of that, eh?” John slips his hat off, tossing it onto his desk. He sighs, running a hand over his beard, and he shakes his head. “And Kate…Kate would hang my fuckin’ head.”

“Not Kate’s responsibility anymore, she’s mine,” Simon bites back. He knows it’s wrong. In all honesty, the sentiment tasted bad from the moment he said it to you, but it is easier to let you believe that he’s using you then try and make you understand him. You wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t get his reasons, and that’s fine, so if he has to be the bad guy, so be it.

The least he could do is make himself useful. Put your skills to work, poke your mind. See what you can really do.

“Don’t let your girl hear you talkin’ like that, Simon,” John says lowly. “Not her, and certainly not Kate.”

“But you agree,” Simon continues, chuckling lowly. “I speak for her. ‘n I think she’d be right in on it, Captain. Wot else is she to do, eh? Sit in my fuckin’ quarters and wait f’me? Wot kind of life is tha’? She needs this. She’s good. I can teach ‘er. She’ll learn. Well and good she will, I know it.”

John sniffs, running a big hand over his short hair before tapping a pen over the target paper on the wall.

“I need her OK,” John relents finally. “I need to hear it from her. I get that, I’m alright with it. But she has to know what she’s getting into, Simon. And no one but you is responsible for her. If she gets into something, I’m not gonna risk Soap or Gaz for it–”

“I know,” Simon mutters. “She’ll be my shadow. I’ll teach ‘er.”

She’ll be good. She’ll be good because she’s mine.

“Bravo-7, sitrep.”

“Eyes on target. Waiting on confirmation.” Simon looks over his shoulder for a moment, where you’re sitting as his cover. You look cute, he thinks. All geared up. He lets his eyes sweep over the cargo pants that are cinched around your waist. Your nice curves. Thick thighs. Fuck, you smell good, even with all the sand up his nose and the smoke clinging to his mask. You have your rifle tucked into your elbow, and you’ve got it aimed towards the door of the roof.

“Is it always so fucking hot?” You ask, running your wrist over your lip. You’re sweating; you can feel it dripping down the back of your neck and along your back. You’re wearing a lot of gear, but you’ve done this before, and you don’t remember it being so uncomfortable. It must be the climate–you’re not used to this kind of desert, and you need to get it together.

Despite the irritation you feel every time you look at Simon, your omega wants to please him. She wants to show him she can do this, that she’s capable, and you’re starting to not like that she’s behaving as if you and her are one and the same.

I’m in control. Shut the fuck up. Let me focus.

“Just watch the door,” Simon mutters, turning back to focus. He adjusts the scope of his rifle, taking a deep breath as he leans into the stock. He gets his target into his line of sight, and he narrows his eye a little more to watch the group more closely on the ground. It’s hard to ignore you. Normally, the person covering him goes almost unnoticed. Their scent never affects him, not enough to make him look away from his scope, but there’s something in the air way too close to him, and he scrunches his nose a little as he adjusts his position on the ground. “You stink, by the way.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap. “Not my fault.”

“Certainly is y’r fault.”

“You reek, too, you ass,” you mumble, wiping your forehead again. You adjust how you’re sitting, clearing your throat. It’s scratchy, and you’re starting to itch a little all over, too. “Like wet dog.”

Simon smiles under his mask. He keeps his index finger next to the trigger, and you keep yours on it.

“How much longer do we have to do this? I mean…I thought you were SAS. Don’t you guys…get your hands real dirty? I mean, don’t you go tearing doors down? Get a lot of action? I mean, we’re just sitting ducks on a roof here right now.”

“Wot, you wanna go kick some doors down now?” Simon asks. He shakes his head. “The real job is boring. We do things nice and clean, we only get dirty when we ‘ave to. If I can get a target from 1000 yards away, then tha’s wot I’ll do. Besides. This is wot I’m good at.”

“Yeah, you look real good there on your knees, honey.”

Simon blinks hard when something strong hits his nose. It stings, makes his eyes water. He coughs a little, dropping his head for a moment.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Simon hisses. “Wot the fuck is wrong with ya?”

“I-I don’t know,” you whisper. You take your hand off your rifle for a moment to adjust the collar of your shirt, but it doesn’t help. You shift a little, loosening your tactical vest. You want to take it off, but you know that’s a bad idea out here. It’s hard to think clearly, though, when your brain is cloudy and you’re starting to see things in double every so often. “It’s…it’s too hot.”

Simon huffs, “‘n when was the last time you had a heat?”

“I’ve…I’ve never.” You clear your throat. “I’ve never had one.”

Can you smell him? I can smell him. He smells so good.

Simon nearly leaves his post. He grips his rifle tight, gloved hands squeezing the metal, and he turns to look at you incredulously.

“Fuckin’ repeat tha’?”

“I know you’re blind and dumb, but don’t tell me you’re fucking deaf, too,” you mumble. You swallow, wiping your face again, and Simon presses on the radio on his shoulder.

“Bravo-7 to Bravo-6, how long do we got?”

“Just observation on target for now. Why?”

“Need 10 minutes.”

Simon shuts off the radio. You blink, starting to see double pretty consistently now, and you take a shaky breath as you grip your rifle a little tighter. You hear shuffling behind you, and you look back to see Simon moving from his position.

“What are you doing? Simon–”

“Get over ‘ere.” Simon sets his rifle down. “Tha’ wasn’t a fuckin’ suggestion, tha’ was an order!”

There’s something different in his voice at the end. Something more animal that lilts his drawl, and it makes you coherent enough to start moving–like his voice made all the fog clear up for just a few moments, long enough for you to realize you need him.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

You put your rifle down, crawling over to him, and just as you stumble, Simon catches you. You put your hands on his shoulders, falling into his lap, and he hoists you up until you’re straddling him. You feel him starting to tug on your cargos, and even in your daze, you squeeze his shoulders.

“S-Simon? What are you…What are you doing?”

“Y’r gonna go into heat soon,” Simon mutters. Alarm bells go off in your head, and you dig your nails into his shoulders. He can see it clearly–the panic on your face.

“H-Heat? R-Right now?”

“Not right now,” Simon clicks his tongue. “More like a…pre-heat. Get y’r bloody pants off–”

When Simon tugs your cargos down enough, you gasp when you see the mess your panties are in. They’re soaked, drenched until the cotton is a darker color, sticking to your cunt, and you whimper as Simon tugs you back into his lap with your pants around your ankles. It’s awkward and messy, and you’re sweating bullets, hot and bothered, and your chest feels tight. There’s nothing romantic about it, nothing sweet about the way Simon turns you in his lap. It’s hurried, but you’re just as desperate, clawing to whatever piece of him you can touch and trying to sink into him. If you could, you’d pry him open and force yourself to tuck yourself inside of him. You want to live there forever. You want to be in his skin, soaking it all in–you want it. You want this, don’t you?

He’s touching us! He’s touching us! Let him in!

“W-What’s happening t-to me?”

“‘s olright,” Simon whispers in your ear. “I’ve got ya. There we are…” He cups your pussy, making you squirm. You jolt in his lap, throwing your head back against his shoulder, and he hums as you sink into his touch. Something inside you curls and lights on fire. Your vision blurs, and his scent surrounds you. “Oh…fuck…tha’ wot ya needed, swee’eart? Yeah…”

Yes! Yes! Yes!

“Simon–” Your back arches, and you push your hips into his hand. When he touches your clit, your omega seizes inside your head, and it’s a feeling like you’ve never felt before.

She takes the reigns; and God, does she fucking pull.

You palm at the zipper of his pants. There’s something there, something you want–and you need it. There’s something in your chest that blinds you, that familiar voice in your head that chants–take it out, take it out, take it out.

“‘m workin’ on it, love,” you hear from behind, and you realize you’re talking. You’re out of your body, you think. You’re not yourself. When you feel him in your daze, big and throbbing under your hand, you whine. It comes from deep within your chest, a bubble of nonsense, and Simon coos. He drags your hips closer, and his cock slips under you, between your folds, and you use your palm to keep him pressed to you. You can’t see him, but you felt him when you first met him, and you’re feeling him now.

If there was any doubt that he was anything but an alpha, that thought disappears when his fat tip kisses your clit. He’s hot and throbbing under your hand, and he is more than enough to appease the voice in your head that’s screaming for some kind of inherent relief that it knows he can give.

“Simon, I need it–I need it–”

“I know, love.”

Fuck, Simon would win any dick-measuring contest, you think. Barely the tip of him, and you’re baring your teeth, gripping his thighs and digging your nails into him as you try and breathe through the stretch. He’s not even fully hard yet; the blood is rushing to his cock, and you moan and cry as he sits you down further and further and further–

“What the fuck–what is it you have in your fucking pants, a-a fucking pipe–?!”

“Y’r so much prettier when y’r mouth ain’t runnin’,” Simon mutters. “Ahh–fuck–’s mine, oll mine–”

You put your hands on his knees and throw it back. You’re feral, brain foggy, and all you can think about is getting yourself off. Your body clings to Simon like a thick, curling vice, pussy clamping around him and taking him to the root. You’re dripping down your thighs, wetting his cargos, and you’re thankful that he’s wearing black, otherwise you can’t think about the mess you’d really be leaving on him. The sounds are lewd. Frantic smack, smack, smack against his thick thighs, and the sound is only making you drool for more. He’s so big. He’s hitting you deep, and you swear your insides have never been stretched this far, but it’s like your body is molding itself to fit him. Like you’re making room for him.

It’s so good. It feels right. Your omega growls like an animal, crying with relief. It’s the only thing she’s ever wanted, and she has it in her hands, and she licks at your scent gland until it practically vibrates. Simon’s face is pressed to it, like he can hear her calling. His mask is the only thing separating you, but you can feel his teeth straining against the fabric. They cut over the gland, wet like his tongue is poking against it, too, and your omega screams.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

“Not yet,” Simon grunts. “Won’t take.”

“You’ll make it take.”

He laughs, and then he punches the air out of you with a nice thrust. Then he’s on you. Suddenly, you’re on your knees, your tummy against the sandy rooftop, with a stallion of a soldier on top of you, taking you like his last meal.

He sounds like more bear than man. Growling, spitting, both hands on either side of your head as he fucks you into the floor. There’s a smile on your face, soft relief that leaves you in your pretty moans and gurgled pleas. It feels so good. The tip of his cock curves and hits against the same place each time, sending pulses that rack your body over and over and over again. Your thighs are shaking, and then Simon slips one hand under you and cups your pussy, fitting it just right until you can grind down on his palm in perfect timing with the way the fat tip of him hits you just well enough. It should hurt. You’ve never taken anything so big–of course you’ve practiced, but nothing can prepare you for the real thing.

This is still practice. You’re not in your heat, not really, and Simon hasn’t lost his fucking mind yet.

Like a fiend, you chase it. The stars, the mountain to climb, the beautiful end. You get up a little more onto your knees and you wrap a hand around his neck, force him against your jaw. You goad him on with pretty words, soft moans–that’s it, right there, please.

It’s not his first time. It’s not his first time relieving an itch he can’t scratch, and it’s not his first time taking an omega by the neck and pounding into her until she can’t speak, but it’s the first time his resolve shatters.

He wants to bite. He’s never felt the urge to bite. If it wasn’t for the mask, his teeth would be an inch deep in your neck, and he’d be memorizing what your blood tasted like for the first time. Your scent is just that much off that he knows it isn’t the right time, but fuck–the need is there. It’s clear.

Special. One of a kind. No one like her. Soft. Sweet. Mine.

His knot swells a little, but it doesn’t lock. You’re not in a proper heat, so it’s not right just yet, but you can feel the edge of it, like the preface to a glorious poem. Thick and spongy, hot, and when he comes, your eyes roll back in your head. It feels like being thirsty for days on end and finally getting that sweet drink of crystal clear water. He pumps you full, creamy and thick and dribbling between your thighs as you squeeze them together. Subconsciously, you’re trying to keep it inside, and Simon groans when as he latches his mouth over your scent gland under the mask and sucks–so hard, it pinches you just right.

The stars align. The tide wanes. You mumble softly, dopey smile on your face, and when your own high hits you, and you’re squirting into his hand, you let his rumbling, low voice pull you back to earth.

“I ‘ave ya, swee’eart,” he says. “Shhh…easy, kitty…Shh…yeah, easy.”

You sigh with relief. Simon handles you with ease. He picks you up, gets you to sit back on your heels. You don’t see it, but Simon fits his wet fingers under the mask, and you keen when you hear him suck on his fingers and hum.

He likes us. Hear that? He likes us.

“Want you to eat me,” you giggle suddenly, and Simon wipes you down, picking your pants back up and zipping them. He pats your ass gently, smoothing a hand over the back of your neck. He knows you’re still in a different headspace. He knows there’s still something else drawing your breath, but he’s trying not to think about it too much. It sounds so much like you.

“Do plenty o’tha’ when we’re in the thick o’it, kitty.”

Back in the humvee, Johnny is smiling like an idiot. He’s sitting next to Kyle, hitting him with his elbow as he wiggles his eyebrows at you and Simon sitting across from them. You tilt your head to the side, glaring.

“What?” You snap, and Johnny cackles. His eyes are flashing, and he reeks like happiness.

“Smells like ye had fun.”

“My gun is loaded, shithead,” you warn him. “And I know how the fucking safety works.”

When Johnny moves to sit in the front near your captain, you try not to think about the sudden warmth over your knee, and the squeeze of Simon’s hand on you.

NEXT

[samiholloway]

Also like "we don't control China"? Why would you? It's not your country. And honestly, this is starting to not be your country anymore either bc you're so backwards you're getting left behind.

They will burn this shit down before they allow us to shine. White ppl are weak and fragile. Yep I said it

[linddzz]

If you think about the actual timeline for the Jayvik divorce arc it is so. fucking. funny. Guys that was like...five months?? Maybe a year?? And most of that was because Jayce got stuck going crazy getting his ass kicked by the bisexuality demons in a pit in the torment nexus.

Really, within the course of a few days all counted, these insane and enmeshed dipshits went through

-Frankenstein's Monster/Frankenstein Allegory Divorce. Came Back Wrong Event. "Can't Let You Go" as an act of betrayal. Sleeping alone in the lab crying listening to Coldplay's "The Scientist" after divorce vs divorcing your situationship to go become Jesus

-"We're Separated." Jayce doing Hellfire from Hunchback but make it bisexual. losing his mind in The Pit. symbolically recreating his ex's life journey. Viktor going through his "starting a cult and taking psychedelics in a hippy commune. getting a balayage bc I'm so over him while wearing the blanket he put on me as a wrap dress" era.

-Divorce 2.0 now with Judas/Jesus Allegory!! The "I love you and will scream as I kill you for all our sakes" ass trope. Hexcore, play "Judas" by Lady Gaga. play "Mary On A Cross."

-Separated era 2.0. Sexy Gay Villain. Im Evil and Gay and Here to Serve Exactly What you Are. Cunt. engaging in horny homoerotic fights with your rival/ex. The Magneto/Xavier era. "My ex came back and he's so much hotter now." Dom!Viktor truthers get our validation and get fed.

- Viktor getting turned down by his hot ex and taking it so bad he becomes Bodyhorror Evil Robot Wizard God. take a shot every time Viktor pins or lifts Jayce by the throat.

-brief cameo flashback of Jayce being haunted by Viktor smiling before getting blasted, just to sprinkle some "dead wife in an action movie" trope to the arc. as a treat.

- Madoka Magika Cosmic God Doomed Gays Era. The small devotee standing in awe before the Beloved God imagery.

-"You were always perfect to me. Your flaws are beautiful. I always loved you for everything you are. All I want is you." Piltover's Ultimate Dumbass Loverboy commits to the power of love except it isn't working. Jayce's voice cracking as he says how much he's always adored Viktor.

(Sidenote can you imagine Mel Medarda in the hive mind collective feeling so fucking tired seeing Jayce immediately confessing his endless devotion and adoration to the Evil Robot God Viktor? She's probably dealt with these two being unhinged and enmeshed for years. she's so fucking sick of them. she is so out of the polycule.)

- IN EVERY REALITY IN ALL POSSIBILITIES. "But babe our fates are inextricably enmeshed throughout realities and throughout universes." Life Without You Is Fields of Dreamless Solitude.

-We Go Into the Darkness Together. Fuck Orpheus I'm Built Different. Category 1000 Forehead Touch. clutching hands and each other as we enmesh our souls for eternity and explode into a butterfly launching into the cosmos. Undoomed Him From The Narrative The Wedding is Back On.

ALL OF THAT IN. HONESTLY. A SPAN OF DAYS. (jayce stuck in the pit barely counts ok). the last four points alone were in a fraction of a frozen second. unhinged. deranged. they're insane. your honor what the fuck is wrong with them???

[curtins]

MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.” just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

[traveler-at-heart]

Undercover

Summary: Natasha and you play a happy couple for an undercover mission.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

-----

It’s mortifying.

As you lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, the moment replays in your head over and over and over again. How you wish you had an off switch for your brain.

This is supposed to be an undercover mission, and yet you can’t keep your true feelings hidden from Natasha.

Undercover as a married couple, no less.

Today, while you were sitting in the living room of your “newlywed home”, reading a book, Natasha approached you. Her hand rested on your shoulder.

“I’m going out for a run” she had said. You nodded absentmindedly, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“I’ll start dinner now”

And it wasn’t until you heard the door shut, that you snapped out of it.

You didn’t have to pretend inside the house. There was absolutely no reason for you to kiss any part of her like that, no one was watching.

Your cheeks flushed and your palms began to sweat. Feeling stupid and exposed, you tried to cook dinner, finding it hard to focus on what to do.

If Natasha noticed the slightly burned meatloaf, she didn’t comment on it. Even as you downed your wine quickly and poured yourself more, she remained stoic and acted as usual.

The night went by in a blurr and now you’re staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Natasha is in the study, doing surveillance and thank God, because sharing a bed after what you did today?

Impossible.

How do I get myself in these situations?

—

“The Maggia” Fury said, looking around the room. There were only five people there, which told you this was an important mission. “What do you know about it?”

“Family of criminals, from Europe, mostly Italy. Loose alliance at that, each family just stays out of the other’s way” you casually said. Hell, you could go on and on about them for much longer.

“Someone does their homework” Fury nodded.

“Show off” Natasha leaned forward, whispering in your ear. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, but you tried your best to hide it.

You feared your best wasn’t very good.

“Their operations consist mostly of loan sharking, narcotics and prostituion” Maria continued. “But, we recently recieved intel that the family in New Jersey is playing something more dangerous”

“Potentially, HYDRA and the smuggling of Trinium”

“What’s Trinium?” Rogers, who had been following in silenece, finally intervened.

“Incredibly rare element and highly explosive if exposed to a special charge”

Of course, it was always about blowing something up.

“We’ve located the leaders of the Jersey family. You two will be sent immediately to start the undercover mission, as the timeline indicates that the purchase will happen in less than three months. Sorry for not getting you a gift, but your wedding was done in such a rush” Fury slid down the files towards you and Natasha.

You took it and were about to hand it to Steve, since he was sitting behind you, but Fury just chuckled, shaking his head no.

Maria had to bite the inside of her cheek to not laugh at your shocked expression, while you turned to look at Natasha with wide eyes.

“Oh, darling, I’ll make you so very happy!”

—

Just your luck, Natasha decides to stay and work from home on Friday. Your plans of eating junk food and wasting away watching reality tv to feel better after your slip up are down the drain.

Instead, you are out gardening. It’s part of the cover, you insisted since you moved. What kind of person would not make an effort to improve their house? One they were planning on living in for years to come.

And truly, you had outdone yourself. In the month you’d spent here, the grass went from dry to green, all kinds of flowers blooming thanks to your hard work and the knowledge provided by years of helping your mother.

It doesn’t matter if the sun is burning your skin or sweat is dripping down your back, you absolutely cannot spend the morning inside the house with the woman who you have a crush on, and who probably knows your true feelings now, thanks to that stupid, stupid…

“Hey” her voice snaps you back to reality, looking up to meet her green eyes, soft and gentle.

“Hi” you reply from your place in the ground, wiping your forehead. “What’s up?”

“You’ve been at it for hours now, and it’s getting too hot. Come get some rest”

“It’s fine, I just need to…”

She calls your name, more of a plea than a warning not to argue with her and you sigh, standing up. As you go up the porch, she hands over a glass of cold lemonade and you take it, realising that you were very much in need of some refreshments.

“What are you doing?” you mutter when you put the glass down, and she takes her hands in yours.

“You’ve been acting strange since yesterday”

“Natasha”

“Did you act on instinct?” she asks, her lips inches from yours.

“Y-yes”

“That’s what a good agent does. You act natural. It’s not something you put any effort in. You don’t drop the cover under any circumstance”

She is throwing you a life line, a gracious way to salvage some of your dignity -if you have any left, that is- because you both know, you are not that good of an agent.

“She’s walking towards the house” Natasha warns, your back to the street. You don’t look behind you, allowing the redhead to pull you into a heated kiss that steals your breath.

“Hey, neighbors”

You turn around, Natasha’s hand falling to your lower back. Waving at Beatrice Costa, the both of you fake smiles. It’s still hard to believe this regular looking woman is leading a criminal organization next to her husband.

“Your garden is looking spectacular!” she admires.

“Thank you, Beatrice. I’ll stop by to give you some flowers when the hydrengeas bloom”

“As long as your wife doesn’t get jealous” the woman jokes, and you feel Natasha’s hand snaking around your middle, pulling you flush against her front.

“She does” the redhead says in a teasing manner, making your neighbor/suspect laugh.

“Anyways, I came to invite you two over for dinner tomorrow. To thank you for last week”

“Oh, it was no bother, really” you say, smiling.

“I insist. Eight o’clock?”

“Sounds great” you nod, and once she says her goodbyes, Natasha turns you around in her arms, still not letting go of your waist.

“See? It’s working. You’re doing great. Nobody questions us” she eases your nerves over what happened yesterday.

Nobody questions you because you are really in love with her, that’s the truth.

“What are you doing?” you say, your breath hitching when she leans over, about to kiss you.

“She’s still around” Natasha says, letting you close the distance to meet her lips.

By the time she drags you back inside, so you can have lunch, the only thought in your head is the feel of her lips in yours.

—

It had been a simple ruse, so simple that it was a wonder it worked.

Natasha made sure Beatrice’s car would malfunction. She always parked outside, and you made sure to be Natasha’s lookout as she drained the battery.

Morning came, and true to her routine, the woman was ready to leave home when the luxurious Mercedes Benz refused to turn on. It just so happened that you were running by, and as any good neighbor would do, offered to help.

What a coincidence, your wife knew enough about cars to fix the issue and send the woman on her merry way.

Beatrice was too polite and too rich to waste the opportunity to thank you -and flaunt her wealth- so next morning she stopped by with a tiramisu from the most expensive bakery in town, to thank you both.

And fuck, it was good tiramisu.

Now, she would greet you and Natasha when either one of you would run past her house (part of your intelligence operations).

Four weeks after the start of the mission, and it had finally paid off, as you received an invitation into the lion’s den.

“So, what’s our game plan here?” you say, looking over yourself in the vanity mirror.

“Enjoy the evening” Natasha says, smiling at your reflection.

“What?” you turn to look at her, confused. “We’re gonna be inside their house. We could bug it”

“Their phones are tapped. That’s all we need. And the man’s computer. But maybe I’ll excuse myself and break into his study”

“That’s too dangerous” you protest. Even if they act like normal people, they’re life long criminals with an extensive network. And you don’t feel prepared to take over anything if Natasha’s compromised. “Could you not?”

“If you have any idea on how to hack into their financial system, sure”

You huff, annoyed at her bored tone. As if she’s not risking herself over something that can be done a million other ways.

“Nat, I don’t want anything bad happening to you. We’ll find another way, ok?” you insist, putting on your heels.

“Ok, darling” she nods, as a spouse would do to calm their crazy wife and you glare, but take your win.

Without another word, you prepare to leave the room, when you feel her arms around your middle.

“What are you…?”

“Clothing tag was out” she says, fixing your sweater. “There. Perfect”

Her words, accompanied by a squeeze to your stomach make your head fuzzy. Clearing your throat, you nod and go down the stairs, picking up a bottle of wine from the kitchen counter.

“Trust me” you say when Natasha gives you an inquiring look. “Ready to go?”

“After you, sweetheart”

As you walk down the street to the Costa residence, Natasha takes your hand, running her thumb over the back of it. She might sense your nerves, or is apologizing for before. Either way, you keep a light conversation until she knocks on your suspect’s door, her arm firmly around your waist.

“Welcome!” Beatrice says, ushering you into her home. It’s elegant and big, but not too flashy or pretentious. “And what do we have here?”

“Just a little gift. It’s actually one of the bottles we got from our honeymoon” you take the lead, your hand in Natasha’s as you navigate the luxurious home all the way to the dining room.

“Oh, this is close to the place where my family is from originally”

Oh, what a shock. It’s not like you know everything there is about the Maggia, along with the history of the Gulf of Naples.

While Beatrice goes to the kitchen to check on the food -made by their staff, of course- Natasha looks around the room. You know that inquiring look, as she evaluates every threat and possible complication should you be compromised.

To help her ease into the environment, you take her hand in yours, feeling less exposed because you’re in front of other people who should believe your relationship is real. The mission is the only way you can justify your desire to feel Natasha’s touch.

By the time Beatrice comes back, Alessandro is right behind her and he introduces himself. His clothes scream old money, and the watch on his wrist screams fucking loaded of ilegal money as well.

“This wine is magnificent” he comments when you sit down and begin to eat.

“Le Lune del Vesuvio” you say, looking at Natasha across the table. “We spent our honeymoon in Italy and I just had to drag Nat to Pompeii for a tour”

“Are you familiar with the region?” Alessandro asks and you nod, having practiced everything.

“Yes, I did my dissertation on cultural identity in Pompeii”

“She’s a genius, my wife” Natasha says with a smile, impressed at how much detail you’re putting on everything to keep them engaged.

“Well, Beatrice’s family, the Fortunatos are from the same area. The Costas are from Sicily. So we are very happy to hear that you know it so well”

“How did you two meet?” Beatrice pivots, and Natasha is happy to answer.

“I was working on a client’s divorce settlement and needed an art expert. Y/N was the only one with the knowledge to help our lawfirm. A divorce brought us together” she says, looking at you with a smile.

Such a romantic.

“Oh, that’s lovely. Well, not for the divorced couple. But not everyone can get a happy ending, I suppose” Beatrice says.

It’s your turn to ask the usual questions and Natasha acts surpirsed, following up the way any normal person would, as if you don’t know every single detail about their lives and criminal record already.

When the conversation pivots to Alessandro, you perk up. This has proven to be the hardest part of the mission, as he keeps a tight leash on all their financial records through obscure third parties.

“You know, I also teach some finance classes. Would you be open to giving a lecture on art appraising? I think it’s an interesting market” he turns to you.

“That would be interesting” you say, groaning internally. Now you’re gonna have to actually work on a presentation, for fuck’s sake. Nobody told you you were gonna be quizzed to this extent during the mission.

Natasha hides her smile with the glass of wine, and you kick her under the table. Her smile fades just a little, but you can still see the teasing in her eyes.

She’s having too much fun with this.

—

The next morning you wake up to a note from Natasha. She’s picking up a “special” package, which means she’s coordinating with Maria the next stage of the mission.

You’re surprised to find a bouquet of flowers adorning the dining table.

Natasha is doing her share of the mission and you have to focus on yours, which is the fucking presentation. There better not be a Q&A session or you’ll lose your damn mind.

Moving to the study that also works as a surveillance room, you pull out your computer and begin to work. To be fair, you enjoy art enough to know more about it than the regular person. You had also been in contact with appraisers and auction houses back in your Interpol days, as you tracked ilegal art dealers.

For obvious reasons, you can’t mention that bit.

You’ve been working for a couple of hours when you hear the front door open, Natasha hurrying up the steps.

“Hey” she says with a frown.

“Everything ok?”

“You didn’t answer my text. Have you even taken a break to eat?” she puts down a heavy box in front of you.

“Sorry, I was preparing for the lecture”

“I got you your favorite food for lunch. And did you see the bouquet?” Natasha insists.

“Uh, I did… but is there a reason for…?”

“You seriously don’t remember?”

“Is it our fake first date anniversary, baby?” you tease, leaning forward. Natasha’s so worked up it's almost comical.

“Y/N, it’s your birthday”

“What?!” you turn to look at the calendar. “Holy crap, how could I have forgotten my own birthday?”

You are so focused on the mission, this completely slipped your mind. What were you supposed to do any way? Being undercover meant cutting off contact with the rest of the world. The timing sucks, but work is your priority right now.

“Work on that thing tomorrow. You should be resting and having a special day”

“Nat, it’s fine. It won’t be the first or last birthday that I’m stuck at work” you sigh, rubbing your eyes.

“Please?” she reaches for your hand, and the gesture is so gentle that your heart skips a beat. Natasha is very serious about taking the day off.

“Ok” you nod, and the hint of a smile can be seen on her face as you take her hand. She gets plates for the both of you and even agrees to watch Project Runway, which she loathes and you love. Without either one of you noticing, you end up across the couch, your legs on her lap.

“Our dinner reservation is at seven” she says, her hand going up and down your thigh.

“Dinner?”

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t take you to dinner?” Natasha smiles, making you blush.

“Well, no one really knows it’s my birthday, so…”

You leave out the most obvious part of how her logic is flawed: you are not even married.

“I know it’s your birthday. Come on. Just let me spoil you once?”

You clear your throat and nod, afraid that if you speak, your voice will give away how much those words affect you. Natasha telling you she wants to spoil you?

That alone is the best birthday gift you’ve ever gotten.

—

It’s honestly a lot more than you could have asked for. The restaurant is beautiful, the food is amazing, and Natasha is looking at you in that special way that makes you feel so happy and confused at the same time.

If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn you saw love in her beautiful emerald eyes.

“How’s your food?”

“Here” you take a forkful of your pasta and offer it to her.

“Really good. Almost as good as the one we had in… where was it? Naples?” Natasha teases, and you smile.

“That’s the city. The whole region is actually really beautiful… maybe I should take some of that time off and travel again” you ponder, thinking about how life has been all about work for the past years.

“Where would you go? Aside from Naples?”

“Sorrento, Lecce, maybe Positano. I don’t know, I guess I’d spend it around the south, just because the food is that good” you sigh, dreamily.

“How come you know so much about it?” Natasha inquires, smiling softly.

“My parents owned a house, because my grandparents were from Salerno. So we’d all spent every summer there, until they sold the property” you explain, letting the waiter take your empty plate. The memory of hot days, cold water and delicious food comes back to you, coupled with the places you’d visit, driving everywhere with your family.

“So, maybe you were destined to be on this mission” Natasha says, smiling.

“I don’t know if destined or it was Fury messing with me” you slip up, hurrying to take a sip of your wine. He had teased you endlessly about your crush on Natasha, and he was probably laughing his ass off as he prepared your identities.

“Whatever it was, I’m happy we’re in this together” Natasha admits, smiling to you.

“Me too” you agree in a low voice. Then, you look at her and smile mischeviously. “So, since it’s my birthday, can we get a nice dessert?”

“I’m already on it” Natasha raises her hand, the man bringing a plate with a slice of chocolate cake and a candle. “Make a wish”

What could you possibly wish for? You wanted to spend time with Natasha, get to know her, have her look at you the way she was doing right now.

Your wish was granted already. Still, you smile, and lean forward to blow out the candle.

—

“Maybe this is a bad idea”

Natasha is hovering. Hovering and following you and asking all kinds of questions while you prepare your bag.

“It’s gonna be fine” you say, again.

“It’s too risky”

“All I have to do is place this phone next to his computer” you lift the device that Maria sent. “And we’ll have access to his files”

“What if he notices?”

“I better run fast then” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “I’m a SHIELD agent, not a history nerd with no fighting skills”

“Except you are a history nerd” she mutters and you turn to glare at her.

“You know what, Romanoff”

“Can I at least drive you there?”

There’s a moment of hesitation on your side. Does she think you’ll screw up the mission? Or is she actually worried about you? Either way, she looks conflicted and there’s no reason to not give her some peace of mind.

“Alright”

On the way to the lecture, you review your notes, missing the way Natasha smiles at the things you’re saying about the subjective value of art and how it has changed throughout history.

Such a nerd.

“I’ll be in a cafe monitoring everything. Call me when you’re done and I’ll pick you up”

“Yes, darling wife” you say with a slightly mocking tone, the same way you always call her your wife in public, but with no one else around.

As you exit the car and walk towards the university, Natasha calls for you.

“I didn’t get to wish you good luck” she explains, pulling you close and kissing you softly. “Good luck”

“T-thanks” you say, out of breath.

Natasha nods, letting you walk as if she didn’t just do the sweetest thing in the world.

You try not to think about how much you’ll miss this when the mission’s over.

But now you have to stay focused.

Alessandro waves his hand in the air, and you walk towards him with a smile.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this”

“It’s not a problem, really”

It totally is, you criminal motherfucker.

“Oh, I forgot my laptop, could I use yours? I have the deck on a flash drive”

Alessandro hesitates for a second, but his mask slips back to place instantly. If you really were a regular person, you never would have noticed his concern.

It means he keeps everything hidden there.

“Sure. Let me just…” he quickly types his password, and you look around the classroom, pulling out the phone and placing it on the table next to his computer. “All set”

“Thank you”

As the slideshow is projected in the auditorium, you look around the room, feeling more confident.

“So, how much would you guys pay for a banana taped to a wall?”

—

“I’m telling you, he keeps everything there” you say to Natasha, browsing through the device. “There’s some encryption, though”

“My expertise”

“Show off”

“Let’s get something to eat” she changes the subject.

“You don’t wanna go back home and check if it’s working?”

“I think a few hours won’t make a difference. We won’t be long, detka”

You think Fury would disagree, but she’s calling you detka and your gayness outweights your sense of duty.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything you want”

“Pizza”

“Anything but pizza” she says, making a face and you laugh.

“Natasha!”

“Sushi” she proposes.

“Fine, sushi it is”

The evening is spent talking about everything but the mission, and by the time you’re driving back home, all you want to do is get in bed and sleep.

“Where are you going?” you ask when Natasha walks to the study.

“You did your part, now I have to work” she explains with a smile.

“Fine” you close the door to the bedroom, joining her in the study. “Either way you’re gonna wake me up when you come back to bed. Might as well help you now”

“Sure” she says, even though you know next to nothing about code and hacking.

While she works on the computer, you look at the window, yawning and stretching in the couch.

Natasha finds out that Pluto is the banking organization they use for their covert operations. To access the accounts she needs a code-string of numbers.

“How many numbers?” you ask, half asleep.

“Six”

“Not coordinates. Could be dates. Most of them like to write down the dates of their oldest founders' tombstones anywhere they can, like a fucking tramp stamp” you joke, falling asleep. “Get into the database and try those”

“Maybe…” Natasha begins to say, but when she turns around you’re snoring.

And what does she know, you are right, the key to the algorithm is based on tombstones’ dates. Talk about morbid.

“Nerd” Natasha says affectionately. Deciding it is enough work for the day, she closes the laptop, helping you up to your shared bedroom.

Truth is, she’s not ready to finish this mission.

—

The end is near, you both can tell. With the encryption finished and the communications that you have intercepted, SHIELD has enough to arrest them.

According to the conversations you recorded, the exchange is set to happen two weeks from today. So you have two more weeks of fake domestic bliss. And then back to being just colleagues.

“I’ll be home as soon as I have a response” Natasha says.

“See you later” you say from your spot in the couch.

“No good luck kiss?” she jokes, referring to the time she said goodbye to you before the lecture.

But you’re not messing around when you stand up and place a chaste kiss on her cheek. If these are the last two weeks you get to do this without being questioned, you’ll make the most of them.

“Be safe”

“You too” she smiles, squeezing your hand.

The sun is setting, but you don’t feel like cooking anything or watching television. Instead, you decide to go out for a run, passing by the Costa mansion out of curiosity.

“Hey, neighbor” Beatrice greets with her signature wave. She often looks like royalty waving at the commoners. “Want some refreshments?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m just out for a short run”

“Come on, you could use some rest! I’d love to hear how the presentation went”

Feeling cornered, you nod, stepping foot inside her mansion. Beatrice has a glass of lemonade ready, which surprises you, but you take it and sip slowly.

Damn, even her lemonade tastes amazing.

“Heard those students were fascinated by your presentation” she encourages you to speak, and you nod, the movement making you a bit fuzzy.

“It was fun… yeah”

“Everything ok?” Beatrice comes close to inspect your face, and you try to step back. Your leg gives in, so you end up on the floor.

“I’m not sure…”

It isn’t until the very last second you understand the woman drugged you.

—

Everything is upside down or so you feel as you struggle to open your eyes.

“See? I told you she’d be fine”

“Oh, shut it. We’ve been waiting for hours” a man says and you blink several times. Their names come back to you slowly.

The mission.

Was your cover blown?

“Y/N, dear, I do apologize. My wife may have overdone it with the clonazepam” Alessandro says. You try to move, but your hands are tied behind your back. “Yes, about that. Don’t worry, we won’t keep you here for long. We just really need to use your connections in the art world to smuggle a tiny, tiny thing”

Good news (for you). The cover is safe.

Bad news (for them). Natasha is gonna kill them.

It looks like you’re in an abandoned warehouse, and judging by the sound, it’s close to the river.

“Yeah, uh… look. I don’t know how to say this, but you’d be better off crossing the border, whichever one. South, north”

“I’m not following” Beatrice says.

“Well, I’m afraid Natasha’s gonna kill you when she finds you two” you grimace, almost feeling sorry for them. They truly don’t know what’s coming.

“No offense, but I think a Maggia family will be more than safe from…”

“The Black Widow?” you say, with a smug smile.

“Bullshit” Beatrice snaps, pulling you by the hair. “Stop the nonesense and help us out. Or we’ll send you home to your loving wife in a body bag”

There’s a loud crash outside of the warehouse, and a widow bite is shot close to Beatrice’s foot as a warning.

“Hands off my girl” Natasha says, gun raised and pointing at Alessandro. “You ok, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Sorry for missing dinner”

“It’s fine. We’ll heat it up when we get home” Natasha jokes. With a nod, you throw yourself to the floor, shattering the chair. Beatrice throws a couple of punches, and she’s quite the fighter.

While Natasha is engaged in battle with Alessandro, the woman escapes and you’re following close behind. The drug is still in your system, and you can tell by the way your steps are a little clumsy.

Beatrice leads you to the edge of the river and you catch up to her out of breath.

“It’s over” you say, hearing Natasha step right behind you.

“Cap’s got the other one. Let’s bring this one in” she says, walking past you. She fails to see the gun that Beatrice is hiding, and you push Natasha out of the way. The bullet passes between you both and you launch your body against Beatrice, knocking her down.

Still, your diziness makes you lose your footing and you fall to the river.

“Rogers, Hill!” Natasha calls over comms, borderline hysterical. “Someone come in”

“I’m here, Romanoff” Tony says, flying over the redhead.

“What the hell took you so long?”

Tony’s suit scans the river and finds you.

“She’s ok, I’m getting her out now. Handcuff our suspect there”

Natasha turns to glare at Beatrice, punching her so hard she’s knocked out.

“Bitch” Natasha says, handcuffing her.

Maria approaches to make sure Natasha doesn’t kill Beatrice, while the redhead sprints towards the spot where Tony drops you off.

“Are you ok? What hurts?”

“J-just cold” you mutter, holding on to her hands.

“Let’s take her to the Medbay. Romanoff, stay so you can lead the rest of the mission” Steve says.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Natasha screams so loud that every agent on the scene turns to look at her. “I’m going with her to the hospital, I don’t give a crap about your mission, Rogers”

“Tasha, I’m fine” you insist, but enjoy the way she pulls you against her, her hands on your lower back. Natasha kisses the top of your head, leading you to a car that will drive you to SHIELD’s medical facility.

Fury turns to look at Hill, amused.

“Remember our little bet?”

Maria rolls her eyes, annoyed. She pulls out a twenty dollar bill and reluctantly hands it to her boss.

“So not fair”

—

Bruised ribs, a potential cold from your night swim and a minor concussion. All things considered, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Natasha seems to disagree, which is why she pushes to postpone the mission debriefing.

“You need to rest” is all she says.

Back in your old room, you shower, enjoying the hot water and clean clothes. Natasha is still sitting on your bed when you walk out of the bathroom.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep without you” she confesses shyly, which makes you smile.

“Me neither”

“I thought I lost you”

“I got lucky. Those two idiots actually thought I was an art dealer” you chuckle.

“You’re a very convincing art nerd” Natasha teases, and you want to pull back but she grabs you by the waist. “I wish I still had two more weeks”

“It doesn’t have to be just two weeks” you say, running your hand through her hair. “I don’t want to pretend to be with you, Natasha. I want to be with you, for real”

“Yeah?” she looks up at you, a guarded expression on her face.

Instead of answering, you lean forward, kissing her softly until she pulls you to straddle her lap.

“You know, we never consumated our marriage”

“Seems like we should get on with it” you laugh as she flips you over, making you lie on your back.

“Just as long as you don’t fake an orgasm” she jokes, kissing every inch of your body.

“Promise I won’t”

Your reality turns out better than any undercover mission could ever be.

[seat-safety-switch]

No matter who you are, what your station is in life, we all want the same thing. We're all unified by our desire to get pressure washers. Wait, what were you gonna say?

Life is full of things that get rusty and dirty. Engine blocks. The windows of your house. And we've only got so much time on this little blue marble to be cleaning them. That's why some geniuses at NASA or something came up with the pressure washer. It's like your garden hose, but more kick-ass. Pulling the trigger emits this perfect line of high-zoot water, which causes exciting things to happen to whatever you point it at.

Grit just disappears from the sidewalk. Paint disappears from the fender of your truck because you stood too close to it. You can knock out a day full of cleaning in just under an hour, which leaves you with a lot more free time to fix all the stuff you broke by pointing a 300psi needle of water at it. No power comes without consequence, which just makes us desire that power all the more. I'm built different, you tell the shattered husks of your wife's least-favourite lawn ornament. I'm not troubled by trifling concerns such as this when I wield the strength of ten gods.

Now, I've never bought a pressure washer. If you're reading this, you probably haven't, too. They're very expensive, and they take a lot of maintenance, such as not throwing it in the backyard every winter when you're tired of it. Used ones, you ask? A great idea, except the previous owner also threw it in their backyard, and all the o-rings are cacked. You'll spend a year of weekends just swapping them out, if you can even find them, and you'll never trust your crude hayseed repairs to what is generously considered an improvised backyard bomb enough to use it after that.

Luckily for all of us, there is another option. It's called "use it for a weekend and then return it to the store." Maybe it's noisy, or smells funny, or you just ran out of things to wash after you knocked all the vinyl siding off your house and nearly killed the neighbour. If you feel bad, don't. You're creating valuable jobs at the return desk. Chances are you won't even be the first person to have done it with that particular washer, too. Just wipe the blood off first.

[annasellheim]

So this was on the @writing-prompt-s site- so I'm treating it as a writing prompt. (I can't fucking draw right now due to a busted shoulder, so I'm doing a bunch of them because I'm alone, hurt, and sad, and they're fun).

Anyway, the story:

I sat down next to him. I looked at my former student, now an adult. A brilliant engineer. I remembered him. I had really liked this kid. The man in front of me was impressive as hell too. It didn't surprise me at all.

"I'm really, really sorry this hurt you. That I hurt you. What I was trying to do was show you some techniques. My goal was that, later, after you learned them, you could deviate from them and make your own thing.

We have a set of guidelines of things we need to teach. It's a mandatory curriculum, with national guidelines, just like math or science or whatever. But it varies from state to state. And who the hell knows what they do in private school. And the curriculum isn't focused on self expression as much as teaching you how to use fine motor skills and..."

Shit, stop it Anna. You don't need to keep justifying yourself.

I try to remember when he had moved away during the school year. I wonder if I hadn't gotten to the point in the spring semester where I gave my students more lee way, to experiment and deviate from the techniques I showed them. To let them decorate their dishes any way they wanted. To make trees and flowers for different seasons. I wondered if he had been part of one of my first classes, before I figured out how to create a really solid curriculum.

Regardless, I could have been clearer about it. I was new to teaching when I had him as a student, I know that much. I was overwhelmed, and honestly, barely keeping it together for the first, like, 4 years I taught. And there were 20-30 students in my classes. It took me a a while to figure out what works and what doesn't in the classroom.

The most important thing was this man in front of me. He was way quieter and more hesitant than the kid I remembered. I hope I didn't do that to him, but I'm was probably reading too much into it.

I took a sip of my coffee.

"You know what's cool tho? The shit you've been doing at work-"

He looked surprised and snorted.

"What?"

"You swore."

It was my turn to laugh. "Yeah, to be fair I'm not in classroom mode right now.

Anyway, the stuff you've been doing at work, it all sounds like it takes a ton of creativity to accomplish."

"I never thought of it that way..."

"Well, you've been on the forefront of a bunch of stuff because you think outside the box. I'm glad I didn't rob you of that."

We sat next to each other on the bench. He was thinking it over. I was trying to not dwell on the fact that he brought this up, that he had carried this pain with him for 20 years.

"Do you still make art?"

"No, not since elementary school, since my last-"

"Your last required art class. Got it."

I gave him a side eyed glance.

"You know you can get back into it at any time, right?"

He was taken aback, he obviously had never considered it.

I smiled. I've had this conversation before, many many times.

"It's not like a sport or something. You can start at literally any point in your life, you don't need to be young and in peak physical condition. Art ain't basketball.

The cool thing too is that you can choose what you want to make, you're an adult. Nothing in art is required for you to learn. You can pick any class you want, or no class at all."

I gave him my business card.

"If you shoot me an email, I can give you some books to read for you to get started. Not to teach techniques, but exercises that help get you back to the point where you just make stuff. I think a LOT of people stop making art for all kinds of reasons, not just because of a novice teacher. There's been a bunch of stuff that's come out recently to try to help adults make art again. y'know, to recapture the joy of it."

We said our goodbyes. I really hope he thinks it over and reaches out.

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

[thydungeongal]

That encounter joke Anon is wrong. Every 5e GM I've ever met went the route of "one fight per day oh my boss is already dead accutally he has 50 more hitpoints and now here's 2 more minions now the fight is properly exciting and dramatic" and the lack of a poker face meant we all knew.

How do you feel about that kind of rewriting, anyway?

For context, none of the GMs ever admitted to this on the LFG posts, or the pitches, etc.

I'm not opposed to it on principle. Ultimately I do think it's a bit like "oh so you're shifting the goalposts when it seems like the party is winning the encounter more easily than you think they should have," but ultimately that's just a maladaptive response to a different issue. Which is, once again, people trying to run D&D as a game it very much is not.

D&D isn't a game of epic bossfights where characters snatch victory from the jaws of defeat after an extended combat encounter. It can produce such encounters but they will usually emerge incidentally, not naturally. D&D is ultimately a game of attrition, of managing character resources through the course of an extended period, and even though D&D 5e's actual expectations of what an adventuring day is supposed to look like are whack D&D 5e does support a type of gameplay that relies on managing resources over an adventuring day much better than it does "a single epic setpiece encounter per day."

Because ultimately D&D is at its best when it's about weaponized player agency and system mastery, and in modern D&D this sometimes manifests as "the party knew they were going up against a lich so utilizing everything they know about liches they kicked that guy's ass in two turns." Now that would be really anticlimactic if the GM had set that encounter up as narrative culmination of a campaign that had been leading up to this moment for two years. But if you take it as "just one more encounter in the story of a bunch of assholes trying to grow stronger and more epic" then it's just a moment of those characters getting to flex for a moment.

Now of course adjusting the stats of a monster on the fly is sort of a problem in that it goes against the game and thus undermines player expression within the game. When the group pulls off a cool trick that immediately deals a million points of damage to the dragon's dick and you say "oh actually the dragon had two million hit points" then you're ultimately undermining player expression. I don't think this makes someone a bad GM because the motivation behind it is usually to provide a more entertaining experience for the group, but it is a sign of a GM fighting against the system and not knowing what it does, and they and their group would probably be better served by another game. And given that players won't necessarily know that happened it maintains the illusion that the game does produce that type of encounter.

My advice? As a GM, be honest: "hey, I didn't think you all would one-shot that boss. Are you okay if we add a bit more HP to that thang?" And if this is a consistent issue of the game not producing the type of experience the group wants they should ultimately look for a different game.

[withwritersblock]

That's So True

~That's So True by Gracie Abrams~

Author's Note: requested! this was fun to write. do I know what i wrote exactly, no I don't lol. Also another late post lol italics are flashback as always Summary: Luke ends his fwb with Y/N Warnings: implied smut Word Count: 8,980 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

She sat on the couch beside Mark, her childhood best friend. They went to UMich together on full athletic scholarships. He went for hockey and she went for volleyball. It wasn’t often that her friends and his friends got together. 

Many people assumed they were dating since they were always together but they were practically raised as siblings. There was a few years where they actually lived together because of her parents financial problems. So they would always brush off the dating rumors. 

Especially since they used to argue constantly exactly like siblings. Right now, they weren’t arguing but silently having a conversation. 

She kept watching Luke and the new girl make eyes towards one another from across the room. She was sure that the new girl was trying to get with Luke with the eyes that she was sending over to him. But Luke was probably trying to figure out what her intentions were. 

Luke was laying on the beanbag, scrolling through his phone as he mostly kept to himself. The new girl, she didn’t even know her name, was sitting beside Kaleigh. Y/N assumed the two were friends but the lack of conversation between them felt odd. 

Mark delicately tapped his hand against her arm forcing her gaze towards him. He gestured if she wanted a drink. Nodding, she stood up and they walked towards the kitchen together. Mark shifted his gaze towards Luke, rolling his eyes as he followed Y/N.

They stepped into the kitchen alone. She walked towards the fridge to take out another drink. 

“Are you alright?” he asked as he leaned against the counter.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled as she popped open the Truly can.

“Right, because we haven’t been sending daggers towards Luke since you stepped into the house,” he said half jokingly.

“I have not,” she mumbled before taking a long sip. Mark raised his eyebrows as he met her gaze. She clenched her jaw as she held the can below her. “Okay, maybe a little bit,”

“I know he’s my teammate and roommate but you’re you so if you say we hate him, then we hate him,” he explained as he walked towards her. She nodded as she stared towards the floor. Pressing her lips together, she nodded again. 

Lifting her gaze up, she began to blink rapidly to prevent the tears falling onto her cheek. “We hate him,” she let out barely above a whisper. Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around her, submerging her into a tight embrace.

“Then fuck him,” he whispered.

She sat on the couch beside Mark in his new house that he shared with five of his teammates. She’s known them for as long as Mark has. Because of how close she was with Mark she found herself always around.

Tonight was obviously no different. The house was getting crowded as more people were piling in for the party they were having. Mark was talking to a blond girl sitting in front of them. Her gaze kept switching towards Luke.

For the last few weeks they have been texting more and more. Mark knew that she had a crush on him, but he swore he wouldn’t say anything. So either he felt the same way, or she was obvious with her feelings.

He was typing on his phone, a smirk toying to his lips. After a few more moments she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Glancing towards Luke, she met his gaze and she watched his cheeks pink. She pulled her phone out to see a text from him. “Meet me at my room in five,”

Lifting her gaze, she met his eye, he smirked as he slowly stood up from the beanbag. He smirked as he walked past her and Mark. A shaking breath left her lips as she brought her knees towards her chest. 

Mark glanced towards Luke as he walked past him before he looked towards Y/N. He fought the grin forming to his lips before he looked back towards the blond girl in front of him.

Y/N brought her Truly towards her lips and chugged the rest of her drink before delicately placing it onto the floor. “I’m gonna get another drink,” she said. 

“Uh huh,” Mark let out while laughing. She smirked as she rolled her eyes playfully. 

She wasn’t entirely lying, she walked towards the kitchen to get another drink before she slipped into Luke’s room.

She took another Truly from the fridge before she urgently walked towards Luke’s room. Her heart was beating out of her chest as she tried to add some liquid courage to her body. 

Delicately, she raised her hand up and knocked onto his door. It didn’t take long for him to open the door and allow her to step inside. He shut it, twisting the lock in the process.

She stood in front of the door, awkwardly holding her drink as she scanned his room. His bed was made and his room was nearly spotless, it was slightly shocking. He took a small step back towards his bed as he took a deep breath.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” he asked as he pointed to his bed awkwardly. She smirked as she nodded. “Ethan invited like every person on campus, so the house is gonna get really crowded,” he explained as he sat down on the bed, looking up towards her.

Stepping towards him, she brought her drink towards her mouth; taking a long sip. After a few seconds, Y/N placed her drink on his nightstand before she sat beside him on the bed. Bumping her thigh against his, forcing his gaze towards her. He nodded as he scanned her features.

“What do you wanna watch?” he asked softly. Her gaze drifted towards his lips for a moment before she took a deep breath.

“Any recommendations?” she asked softly. His lips curled upward slightly as he nodded. 

He stood up from the bed, taking a hold of the TV remote on the nightstand as he walked towards the light switch. He turned the light off as he turned on Netflix. She slowly leaned against the headboard, pulling her knees up to her chest. Luke walked around the bed and laid beside her, adjusting the pillow beneath his head. 

She looked down towards him as he met her gaze. A toothy grin formed to his lips as he looked towards the screen. 

Luke put on a movie that both of them have seen hundreds of times. The movie had only been on for a few minutes when Luke turned onto his side to meet her gaze. 

“Hi,” he mumbled. Looking down towards him, she smiled softly.

“Hi,” she replied as she looked into his blue eyes. He waved his finger asking her to lay down. “What?” she asked, a soft chuckle leaving her lips.

“Come ‘ere so I can kiss you,” he let out barely above a whisper. Her eyes widened slightly as another grin formed to her lips. 

“Oh really?” she asked softly as she slowly laying completely down on her side. Luke nodded as he took a hold of her thigh, pulling her closer to him. Their lips were only a mere inch apart. He hummed before he rubbed his thumb against her bare thigh. Her breathing started to quicken as she looked deeply into his blue eyes.

“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked barely above a whisper. He smirked before he leaned towards her, devouring her lips. A moan left her lips, as her fingers ran through his hair. Slowly, he raised his hand up from her thigh, trailing his hand up her body.

Slowly, she climbed onto his lap with their lips still connected. His hands glided up and down her thighs. She took a hold of his shirt and started unbuttoning it. He began to sit up, pulling the shirt away from his frame. He laid back down, her lips started trailing down his neck. 

She began to bite and suck the skin, swirling her tongue to sooth the skin. He swallowed hard as his hands started hiking the dress up her frame, wanting it off of her body. 

Her lips trailed back up, meeting his lips urgently. Grinding against his lap, his breathing caught in his throat. “Fuck,” he mumbled against her lips. She smirked as she slowly pulled away from him. 

Luke began to lean towards her, desperate for her lips again. Smirking, she climbed off of his lap. He reached towards her but she slipped off of the bed. “Hey,” he let out, breathing heavily. 

Standing beside the bed, she took a hold of the dress and started pushing it off of her frame. He smirked as he watched her slowly reveal her body. He dragged his tongue along his bottom lip as she stood in front of him.

Mark waited until she pulled away from the embrace, not wanting to rush her. He hated seeing her sad, but he was always going to be the one to hold her and make her feel better. It took another minute before she slowly slipped away from his body. She kept her gaze on his chest as she fought the tears forming to her eyes. 

After a long few seconds she lifted her gaze and met his eye, “I’m gonna go home,” she mumbled. His eyes widened as he stepped towards her, taking a hold of her arm.

“Because of him?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. She shrugged as Kaleigh walked into the kitchen. Stopping short, she crossed her arms over her chest shyly. “Hey, what’s up Kale?” Mark shifted his gaze towards her. Y/N wiped her hands across her cheeks. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she mumbled.

“You didn’t-” both Mark and Y/N said at the same time. She shifted her gaze from Mark at first and then towards Y/N. 

“I’m gonna head home,” she muttered as she delicately placed her drink onto the counter.

“Y/N,” Mark let out softly.

“I’m going home,” she said more sternly as she started walking out of the kitchen and out of the house. 

She stepped into the living room to see the new girl sitting in Luke’s lap as the group was laughing loudly. Luke lifted his gaze and met her eye. His smile faltered slightly as their eyes were connected. She stood still, watching her run her hand across his jaw to force his gaze towards her. Luke looked back towards the new girl, smiling widely again. 

He quickly looked back towards Y/N, nearly rubbing it into her face. Swallowing hard, she continued to look into his blue eyes. Her eyes squinted slightly as she watched him, run his hand up and down the side of her thigh. 

A huff fell from her lips as she continued to walk out of the house. She stepped onto the porch, a dry angry laugh left her throat as she turned her gaze towards the sky. Her eyes continued to tear up. 

Her house she shared with a few of her sorority sisters was only a few streets over. It was normal for her to walk from the house to Mark’s house. It was quiet as it was quite late at night. She started down the street like she always did. Usually, Mark or Luke would walk her back to her house.

“Hey, hey, hey-” Mark shouted as he followed her out of the house. She spun around to meet his gaze. She took a deep breath as he walked towards her; somewhat breathless.

Luke was on top of her, both of his hands on either side of her as he was kissing her urgently. Her hands were gliding along his cheeks and into his hair. He slowly pulled his lips away from hers as he started trailing wet kisses along her neck down towards her exposed collarbone.

“Fuck,” she whispered as she tilted her head back. He smiled as he tugged at the fabric of her tanktop. 

Her hands glided along his upper back, pulling his hoodie up his back. He sat back, smiling down towards her before he pulled his hoodie from his frame. He tossed it towards the floor before he climbed on top of her again, devouring her lips. 

After a few seconds, there was a loud knock against his unlocked door. Luke pulled away from her, laying beside her. He pulled the blanket beside them and tossed it over their frame as the door was pushed open.

“She’s my friend Hughesy, every time she comes over she ends up in here. Not fair. Let’s go Y/N,” Mark stood at the door, motioning her to leave the room. She glanced towards Luke, an apologetic smile on her face.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Luke let out while chuckling. 

“Very fucking serious right now,” he let out with a dry chuckle, “My friend who I haven’t seen in weeks because she’s been fucking you every day. I deserve to see my best friend,” Mark explained very dramatically. Luke covered his face with his hands while laughing.

“Mark, seriously?” she said while laughing.

“You promised me when you two started hooking up that I would still see you. So come on,” he pointed towards the door again. Y/N shifted her gaze towards Luke. He rolled his eyes while fighting off a grin.  She slowly slipped off of the bed, adjusting the tanktop on her body. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she teased as she walked out of the room. 

“Such a cock block,” Luke let out. 

Mark barked out a laugh. “You and your dick will survive one night,” Mark teased as he shut the door. She stood behind him, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and your-” Mark started before she shoved him. “Fine-alright, come on,” Mark said with a wide grin.

They walked down the hall towards his room and he pushed the door open. Y/N jumped onto his bed to take a hold of the Switch controller. Mark jumped and laid beside her taking a hold of the other one.

“So what’s the actual deal with you two?” Mark asked as he loaded up Mario Party. She fought the grin forming to her lips, her body heated up. She pressed her lips together, feeling Luke’s lips still on hers.

“We’re just-I don’t know,” she mumbled as she waited for the game to load. 

“So there’s nothing else going on?”

“Nope,”

“Just sex?”

“Just sex,” she repeated as she began to pick her character to play. He hummed as he took in a sharp breath.

“What are you doing?” he asked her as he ran his fingers through his hair. She took in a shaky breath as she tilted her head back. Another laugh fell from her lips as a tear fell onto her cheek. 

An image of Luke with the girl in his lap flashed in her mind as she clenched her jaw. Her entire body was shivering as she looked into Mark’s eyes. He was desperate to try and comfort her but there was nothing. 

She’s been heart broken before. Y/N had a few break ups back in high school, Mark was always there to take care of her. He’s even punched a few of her ex-boyfriends for the way that they treated her. She’s always come first.

“I can’t sit in there and watch that,” she forced out. Her lips quivered as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her arms were cold as the wind was starting to hit her skin.

Mark’s mouth fell open as he tried to find something to say to comfort her. She shook her head as she pressed her lips together. Mark stepped towards her again, watching her step back further. “I can’t be here!” she let out again, a sob falling from her lips. “He’s rubbing it in my face! He’s sitting there acting like we weren’t-” she trailed off as she wiped her hands across her cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry-” Mark said softly. 

“We spent-” she trailed off again while shaking her head once more. “I’m so stupid,”

“What?” Mark let out barely above a whisper.

He walked into her sorority house, smiling towards the girl that let him inside. He always forgot her name since he wasn’t at her house that often. She jogged down the stairs smiling towards him. He smiled widely as he held out his arms for her. Without hesitation she practically leaped into his arms. He chuckled while he held her tightly to his chest.

“Come on,” she whispered as she slowly slipped away from him. Luke didn’t hesitate as he followed her towards the steps. She jogged ahead, hoping he followed after her.

Turning the corner, she stepped into her room; spinning around to face him. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. Twisting the lock, he stepped towards her; a teasing grin on his lips.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she let out as she looked deeply into his blue eyes. He smirked as he took a hold of her waist, spinning her to pin her against the door. 

“Now, we can’t be interrupted by your bestie,” he whispered dryly. She chuckled as she rested her hands onto his chest.  He raised his hand up, taking a hold of her cheek. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered before he pulled her towards him, kissing her urgently. Slowly, she tugged at his shirt; wanting it off of his body.

He pulled away from her, smiling as he tilting his head to the side. A smirk toyed to his lips as he stepped away from her. “Hey, where are you going?” she asked a small pout on her lips. He pursed his lips forward as he fought a grin forming to his lips. 

She tried to take a step towards him but he reached towards her instead. He took a hold of her waist tossing her over his shoulder. A loud giggle fell from her lips as she stablized herself against his back. Cautiously, he tossed her down onto the bed. 

He instantly climbed on top of her. A giggle fell from her lips as she grinned widely. Delicately, he pressed his lips against hers for a moment before he collapsed beside her, staring towards the ceiling. Rolling onto her side, she faced him. 

He lifted his arm up, allowing her to rest her head onto his chest. Luke ran his fingers through her hair before pressing his lips against the top of her head. Her heart fluttered against her chest as she shut her eyes for a moment. 

“You know,” she started, swallowing hard, “The girls are hosting this event thing where we’re supposed to bring a plus one,” she explained. He hummed. “We’re supposed to let Lydia know who we’re bringing with us,” 

“Aren’t those things reserved for boyfriends?” he asked as he glided his hand up and down her back. 

Scrunching her features together for a moment before she took a deep breath, “I’ve taken Mark to one before. I just thought that maybe since it’s supposed to be a date thing that- you could come along,” she let out barely above a whisper. He pressed his lips against the top of her head again.

“Maybe the next one,” he let out before he took a hold of her chin. He forced her gaze to meet his eye. Subconciously, her lips fell into a pout. He glided his thumb across her bottom lip, “Baby,” he let out softly almost as if it was an apology.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. He leaned towards her, pressing his lips against hers softly. She glided her hands through his curls as he continued to kiss her deeply.

She sniffled as she shook her head, “I need to go home,” she mumbled again as she started walking down the sidewalk. Mark didn’t argue it this time as began to follow her. Slowly, she spun around to meet Mark’s gaze. “Mark.”

“It’s late, let me walk you back,” Mark offered as he started walking beside her. She didn’t argue it as she continued to walk. 

They stayed quiet for a moment as the wind was picking up. She brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face as she kept her gaze on her feet. Making sure to avoid every crack, a childhood habit that she continues to this day. 

“You’re not stupid,” Mark said as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Y/N didn’t stop walking, she kept her gaze onto the concrete below her. Her steps skipping over each crack between the concrete slabs. “You fell for him. That doesn’t make you stupid,” He further explained.

She didn’t reply but he knew that she took what he said to heart.

“You don’t need a guy like him anyway,” he mumbled. She hummed as they turned the corner towards her house. “I’ll hate him as long as you need me to hate him,” he expressed. She chuckled as she rolled her eyes playfully. 

“You can’t hate him, he’s one of your best friends,” she countered.

“Yeah but he hurt my best friend, so we hate him,” he let out, a teasing grin on his face. “But I still gotta play and live with him so I can’t always hate him,” 

After a few seconds, they finally stepped up the porch to her house. They stood outside the door, and her gaze was still staring towards the ground beneath her. Finally lifting her gaze, she looked into his eyes and nodded slightly.

Leaning towards her, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her towards his chest. She wrapped her arms around the center of his back as a shaky breath left her lips. 

For the longest time, she hated hugs. Something about the contact was always so intimate and awkward. It was rare if she ever hugged family let alone Mark. But as her first year at college progressed, needing a hug was all that she ever really needed. 

Anyone’s embraced made her feel better, but right now she wished it was Luke instead of Mark hugging her the way he was.

“Thanks,” she mumbled before she slipped away from him. Keeping her head low, she pushed the door open and stepped into the house. Shutting the door behind her, she continued walking towards the stairs. 

“Hey, who just dropped you off?” Lydia asked as she emerged from the kitchen with her boyfriend, Darren. His arms were around Lydia’s waist as she guided him into the entryway. 

Y/N took in a sharp breath, “Mark,” she let out before she started to walk up the steps again. Lydia slowly pulled away from Darren as she tried to decide if she should follow her up the steps. 

“Normally you don’t come home until the morning if your at their house,” she explained, slightly confused. Y/N paused for a second as she met Lydia’s gaze. 

“Luke and I aren’t-” she waved her hand slightly, “-Anymore. It was awkward so Mark brought me home. I mean is that okay?” she asked, feeling herself get teary eyed in the process.

“Oh yeah, definitely. Just strange. I’m sorry about Luke. You guys seemed great together.” she explained as she shifted her attention towards Darren.

“Good night guys,” she mumbled as she jogged up the remaining steps towards her room.

~~~

His head was rested in between her legs as they were watching a TV show together. She was also doing homework, which is why he wasn’t laying with her and more or less laying on her. 

His hands were gliding up and down the inside and outside of her thighs. There was no consistent pattern in his movements, it was whatever he was deciding to do in that second. His motions were also intended to distract her, pull her attention towards him. 

“Hey,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against her inner thigh. A hum fell from her lips as she continued to type on her computer. “Are you almost done?” he whined out before he pressed his lips against her skin again, this time longer. Tilting his head back, hoping to meet her gaze instead was met with her back of her laptop. 

“Luke, you know this is due tonight,” she expressed as she continued to type. 

“Tonight, as in we can do stuff now and you’ll still have time to get this done,” he muttered.

His fingertips were gliding up and down the inside of her thigh, watching her skin erupt in goosebumps. His lips curled upward before he pressed his lips against her skin again.

“Not happening until I am finished with this,” she expressed, a laugh falling from her lips. Luke’s lips fell into a pout.

“How much do you have left?” he questioned as he sat up slightly, looking down towards her. His hand was still gliding up and down her thigh teasingly. Looking past her laptop, meeting his gaze, she rolled her eyes playfully before she rested it beside her. 

“You are so impatient,” she let out teasingly. He smirked before he parted her legs once more. Squinting her eyes slightly as she watched him momentarily. Slowly, gliding his hand lower and lower to take a hold of her loose shorts. Luke twisted the fabric between his fingers. He began to tug them from her frame slowly. 

“Luke-” she sat up squirming away from him, giggles falling from her lips. He smirked while rolling his eyes playfully. 

“Fine,” he drew out the word for a few seconds, “I’ll behave while you finish you’re assignment,” he stood up and walked toward the head of the bed. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers for a moment. 

He pulled away as he delicately took a hold of her chin, “So beautiful,” he whispered before he pecked her lips. “I’ll go get us some food,” he mumbled against her lips before he kissed her again. 

“That’d be great,” she whispered.

“I’ll be back, my love,” he whispered before he started heading out of the room.

It had been a few days since she last saw Mark or Luke. The idea of avoiding their house was already circulating her mind but the fact that they had an away game, made it easier for her to do that.

She hasn’t been bed ridden from a break up since her first boyfriend broke up with her when she was fourteen. But can she even constitute what she had with Luke a break up? They were never officially together. It was six months of spending nearly every day together. It wasn’t just sex. It was the moments before and after they did it that mattered.

She had fallen for him without fulling realizing that she did. One minute, he was just her friends with benefits and the next, she was in love with him. She confessed her feelings for him a month after she realized that she had them. Which led to the end of whatever they were doing. 

Luke didn’t want a relationship. He didn’t want to start up anything with anyone if he was heading to New Jersey. It was always on his mind that one day he would have to drop everything to join the NHL. He didn’t want a single thing holding him back. Which meant no girlfriend. 

Despite Y/N practically being his girlfriend anyway. If he didn’t want a girlfriend, why did he spent all of his free time with her? Cuddling with her? Kissing her? Holding her when she was sad? Why did he do all of that, if it was never that serious.

Deep down, she knew that he never meant to hurt her. He was only doing what felt right and she could handle that, sure, but seeing him afterwards hurts too much right now.

There was a knock on her door and a groan fell from her lips, which the person at the door took as a come in.

“You are going out tonight,” Lydia said simply as she walked towards the bed. She took a hold of the comforter and tossed it off of Y/N’s frame. Another groan fell from her lips as she covered her head with a pillow. Lydia reached over and took the pillow from her grasp. “You need to go to the bar and let hot men buy you drinks and you need to dance,” Lydia said as she smacked her hands against the bed. 

“No,” she said as her voice cracked. She covered her face with her hands.

“You are getting up from this bed, showering and making yourself look hot as fuck and you are going to get drunk,” Lydia begged as she took a hold of Y/N’s arm, physically pulling her from the bed.

“This is peer pressure, you know,” Y/N mumbled as she crossed her arms over her chest. Looking into Lydia’s gaze. A smile flashed to Lydia’s lips.

“It’s only peer pressure if it works,” she said jokingly. Y/N rolled her eyes as she started walking towards her bathroom. Lydia clapped excitedly as she walked out of Y/N’s room.

Stepping into the bathroom, her gaze landed on her reflection in the mirror. It was shocking to see how she looked. She definitely needed a little reset. Maybe it would be good for her. She stepped towards the shower, turning it on.

The next three hours, she spent listening to loud music and taking forever to make sure her hair and makeup looked perfect. 

She stared at her closet, pulling out different dresses. For a while nothing was right, each dress was too tight or too flowy. Each dress it the ground and stayed there until she found a tight black dress with mesh long sleeves. 

She stepped into the bathroom, looking into her reflection; she felt hot and definitely looked that way.

“Y/N, it’s almost eleven, are you ready yet?!” Lydia yelled from the lower level of the house. 

“One second!” she shouted back as she took a hold of her favorite perfume bottle. Instantly, spraying her entire frame with the mist. Delicately, she placed it onto the counter before she leaned down and took a hold of the stilettos beside her. Slipping them on quickly before she heads out of the room towards the stairs.

Walking down the steps, she smiled towards Lydia and Darren as she walked down the steps, “Hot damn girl,” Lydia said as she fanned herself. Y/N grinned as she kept her gaze on the steps, making sure she didn’t trip down the stairs.

Her friends and Mark’s friends were getting together to throw an athletes only rager at Mark’s house. Usually, athletes remained under the radar but one time a year they throw a huge party just for themselves. Making sure, no cameras were around in the process. Everyone’s phones were turned off or kept at home. 

She had on a tight black dress with mesh sleeves that she always felt hot in. She stepped into the house with her teammate and friend, Dina. 

Luke was sitting on the couch beside Ethan. They were engaged in a conversation but Luke stopped talking the second he laid eyes on Y/N. He sat up straighter as he bit his bottom lip while fighting off a grin.

Ethan wasn’t hiding the fact that he was checking her out as well. He dragged his hand across his chin as he stood up and walked away.

“I’m grabbing a drink,” Dina said before she slipped into the party, smiling towards a group of linemen from the football team. 

Y/N smiled towards Luke as she continued walking towards him. He pursed his lips forward as he scanned her frame. It was safe to say that she was the sexiest girl in the room. She stood in front of him for a second before she sat down beside him. He smiled towards her for a moment.

Without hesitation, he took a hold of neck and pulled her towards him; devouring her lips. After a few seconds she pulled away from him, he slipped his hand from the base of her neck towards her cheek. “You are so-” he mumbled against her lips before he kissed her urgently again. 

Slowly, she pulled away from him. “Wait,” she muttered before she leaned fulling back. She dragged her thumb across his lips, trying to clean the lipstick left on his mouth. “So impatient,” she mumbled before standing up from the couch. He leaned back on the couch trailing her steps with his eyes. 

He ran his hand across his lips as he shook his head as a chuckle fell from his lips. 

She continued to walk into the kitchen in dire need of a drink. The house was already pretty crowded with most of the hockey, football, and volleyball team were there. She walked towards the counter and immediately started pouring out a vodka shot.

“Some show,” Mark teased as he walked up beside her. She chuckled as she instantly took the shot. A groan fell from her lips as she shook her head. “He’s obsessed with you,” 

“I don’t blame him,” she mumbled with a smirk on her lips. Mark barked out a laugh as he started pouring himself a mixed drink with vodka and lemonade. She poured out another shot; meeting Mark’s gaze. After a few seconds she took the shot, this time it went down smoother. 

“Can you at least keep his tongue out of your throat in my living room,” he said half jokingly. She laughed while turning to meet Mark’s gaze.

“I’ll think about it,” she teased as she continued out of the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled before she stepped off of the last step. “Let’s go before I change my mind,” she explained as she chuckled.

“Darren go, go, go,” Lydia said while laughing. Darren tossed his head back while laughing. He took a hold of his keys as he began the charge out of the house. “Everyone’s meeting us at that bar a few streets over,” she explained as she happily swayed her hips back and forth towards Darren’s car. He was already at the car unlocking it. He climbed into the driver seat and turned on the car. 

“As long as I can drink, I’m okay with anywhere,” Y/N said as she climbed into the backseat of the car. Lydia reached for Darren’s phone to start searching for a playlist to listen to on the short ride to the bar.

The ride to the bar was fast as they truly only listened to one song the ride there. Darren put the car into park and immediately turned the car off and jumped out. Lydia was not too far behind but Y/N stayed inside the car. Her eyes were watching the line form outside the bar. It was crowded, like it always was on a Friday night in their college town. 

It was easy getting ready; putting the makeup on and doing her hair was easy and fun. But now that she actually has to step foot into the bar; her legs felt like jello and her mind was hazy. Lydia stood outside the car door and pulled it open for her. 

“Come on, sexy thing,” Lydia said as she reached over and unbuckled the seatbelt. Swallowing hard, Y/N reluctantly stepped out of the car. “It will be fun,” Lydia whispered. Y/N nodded as she glanced towards the entrance. “After a few shots maybe,”

“Yeah, maybe,” she mumbled as she followed after the pair towards the entrance to get in line for the bar. It was cold but her body ran hot from the debilitating anxiety all over her body. 

The line moved fast and majority of the people in line had IDs. There were a few people that needed X’s on their hands. After they stepped inside, the music was loud and vibrated her chest. Lydia leaned into her, whispering something but she couldn’t hear anything. 

Her eyes landed on all too familiar sight. Luke was sitting against the bartop with the girl from the other night. She was standing in between his legs laughing as she ran her fingers through his hair. Y/N was near the entrance, people cussing at her to move but she refused. She kept staring towards the pair. 

The girl shifting her gaze towards Y/N. Their eyes met and her smile faltered before she took a hold of Luke’s chin and kissed him urgently. Clenching her jaw, she forced her gaze towards the floor. Lydia took a hold of her arm trying to drag her deeper into the bar. 

“Don’t look at him,” she shouted towards her as they walked to the opposite end of the bar to get away from him and the girl. God, she wished she knew her name. 

Leaning against the bartop, Lydia shouted towards the bartender. He shifted his gaze towards Y/N and she took a deep breath. “Espresso Martini please,” she yelled towards him. He nodded as he started making the drinks. Shifted her gaze down the bar to see the girl sitting alone and Luke no where to be found.

It didn’t take long for her to get her drink. The bartender handed her the drink and she brought it towards her lips instantly. It was the best drink she’s had in ages. Especially since for the last few months all she’s been drinking is seltzers. 

Lydia sipped her rum and coke and began to walk towards the center of the bar that had a dance floor. Y/N stayed put as she chugged her espresso martini. She placed the empty glass onto the bartop; already feeling hot from the alcohol in her system. 

The bartender smirked. “Another?” he yelled. Y/N leaned against the counter top and nodded with a smirk on her lips. “This ones on the house, pretty girl,” he continued. Y/N smiled widely as she winked towards the bartender. It didn’t take long for him to place another drink in front of her.

“Thank you,” she hollered towards him as she walked towards the dance floor. It could’ve been the lack of food in her body or the placebo effect but she was feeling tipsy already. It definitely was the placebo effect and she was grateful for it. 

The bar was playing early 200s rap music and she was swaying and singing along without a care in the world. Lydia, Darren, and her were dancing for an hour. A new drink in her hand every fifteen minutes. Lydia and Darren were dancing with each other, swaying and singing in each other’s faces. While she was dancing alone, dancing away from any guy that tried to dance with her.

It was probably her fourth or fifth espresso martini within an hour and she knew she was going to regret it later. But right now, dancing and drinking away her heartbreak was everything she needed. It didn’t help that she kept getting glimpses of Luke dancing with the girl. 

Y/N couldn’t tell if Luke saw her but she knew that the girl did. Every time that she saw the pair, the girl kissed Luke urgently. Almost as if to brag that they were together. For the first time in a few days, she didn’t care. She didn’t care that he was with someone else. Didn’t care that she was single, alone, and heart broken. It was like she was normal and happy.

But she knew that was the espresso martinis and she would feel awful in the morning but she was happy. 

Tapping her hand against Lydia’s shoulder, she took her attention. “I’m gonna get some air,” she shouted. Lydia nodded before she began to dance with Darren again. Y/N slipped through the crowd towards the patio. She shoved the door open and stepped outside. Taking in a deep breath, she walked towards the fence blocking the patio in. 

Leaning against it, she began to watch all of the people walking towards the entrance, trying to figure out what their stories might be. 

“Y/N?” a voice rang out. A voice she’s gotten used to hearing for months. 

She sat on the couch with Mark beside her as they were both playing Mario Kart. Luke wandered out of his room, a wide grin on his face as his eyes lit up once he saw her. “Markie, keeping my girl all to yourself?” he asked teasingly. He walked towards the couch, taking a hold of Y/N’s chin and delicately leaning down and kissing her softly. 

“Hughesy, she’s my best friend,” Mark said while laughing. “Not like she’s your girlfriend,” Mark expressed as he leaned forward while starting a new game. Her smile faltered for a second before she pushed it back onto her lips. Luke fought a grin forming to his lips before he squeezed his way onto the couch. 

Dramatically, he wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulder; pulling her to his side. He pressed his lips against the top of her head as he started gliding his fingertips across her exposed shoulder and into her hair. His gaze was admiring her side profile. 

“When’s that happening by the way?” Mark asked, teasingly.

“Mark don’t,” she scolded. Luke didn’t even blink as he switched his gaze towards his phone. “Luke, do you want to join? Mark’s got another controller in his room,” she questioned.

“Yeah, why not,” he mumbled as he stood up from the couch and wandered towards Mark’s room. 

“Will you stop?” she paused the game as she shifted her gaze towards him. Mark dropped the controller into his lap. “I told you we’re just hooking up,” she whispered.

“I’ve had my fair share of friends with benefits and I’ve never done anything that you two do,” Mark said as he leaned towards her. “I’ve never done this,” he trailed off as he pressed his lips against the top of her head, “Only done that with a girlfriend.” he said with a smirk before he leaned back. 

Pressing her lips together, she tilted her head back against the couch. “Don’t talk about it with him around,” she muttered. Mark nodded as Luke walked back out into the living room. He squeezed himself back into the couch as he reached his hand over and took a hold of her thigh as she restarted her match with Mark. 

Luke delicately dragged his fingertips along her thigh as he waited for his turn to join the game. His gaze was admiring her side profile again. He leaned towards her as he delicately pressed his lips against her cheek. 

Shutting her eyes, slowly she spun around to see Luke standing behind her. His cheeks were red and sweaty. His hair was a little messy but he looked good. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, stepping towards her.

Lowering her gaze towards the floor, she took a deep breath, “I’m fine,” she mumbled or slurred she couldn’t tell. 

“Let me take you home,” he let out, stepping towards her.

“I just got here,” she said while crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re drunk,” 

“I’m fine, Luke,” she let out while shaking her head. 

“You can barely stand up,” he said as he took a hold of her arm. Yanking it away from him, she looked into his eyes.

“Don’t touch me," she forced out.

“Please let me get you some water at least,” 

“You don’t get to look at me, you don’t get to care about me,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. He took another step towards her, “You don’t get to pretend to love me anymore,”

“Do you seriously think I was pretending?” he asked while furrowing his eyebrows. He clenched his jaw as he tilted his head to the side. Trying to see if she truly meant what she said. 

“I was in love with you, don’t you get that?” he let out while shaking his head. Scrunching her features together, she tried to sober up to fully process what he was saying. He took a hold of her cheeks. Her eyes softened as he glided his thumbs across the apples of her cheeks. Her hands rested onto his chest. 

“The moment I realized I was in love with you I had to step away because it won’t be fair to you when I leave,” he expressed, he looked over her features as he looked deeply into her eyes. “I tried keeping my distance from you, keep as casual as I could but you are literally impossible to not fall in love with,” 

“If you’re in love with me then why is her tongue down your throat every other minute,” she choked out. Shaking his head, he shifted his gaze towards the sky. 

“I don’t know,” he let out.

“You don’t know?” she let out while laughing. “Goodbye Luke,” she mumbled as she started walked away from him. 

“Y/N, please,” he delicately took a hold of her arm. 

“I’m drunk, I’m not doing this,” she forced out as she pulled her arm away from him and continued walking back inside of the bar. He stood in the patio watching her walk away from him. 

~~~

“Hey,” he whispered as he stood in the doorway. Y/N lifted her gaze from her phone, a smile formed to her lips as he slowly stepped inside. He twisted the lock as he walked towards the bed, tossing his jacket to the floor. 

“How was your practice?” she asked. A huff of air fell from his lips as he walked towards the bed. He sat on his bed, his shoulders slumping. Slowly, he fell onto his back. She rolled onto her side, he lifted his gaze to meet her eye. “Not good?” she questioned, a soft chuckle falling from her lips.

Her fingertips glided through his hair. Shutting his eyes, a smile of content formed onto his lips. “Coach made us skate lines. Fucking exhausted,” he mumbled. A soft giggle fell from her lips. 

“I’m sure, baby,” she whispered as she continued running her fingers through his hair. “What can I do?” she asked softly. A smirk formed to his lips before he puckered them. She smiled before she leaned down and kissed him softly. After a few seconds, he slowly sat up and looked down towards her. His blue eyes softened as he continued to admire her features. “What?” she let out quietly. 

He shook his head as he leaned down and delicately pressed his lips against hers. After a few seconds, he pulled away. “Wanna watch a movie an-and actually watch it?” he asked, a sleepy grin formed to his lips. She smiled softly as she nodded. He laid on his back, holding out his arms for her to lay with him. Without hesitation, she rested her head onto his chest. 

His hands glided up and down her back soothingly. Her fingertips glided along the fabric of his t-shirt. “Got any ideas?” she asked, lifting her head up to look down towards him. 

“Anything’s fine by me, baby,” he let out as he scanned her features. She nodded as she delicately rested her head back down onto his chest. He reached for the remote on the nightstand before he handed it over to her. “Harry Potter’s always an option,” he said before clearing his throat. Rolling her eyes playfully before she turned on the TV. 

“Which one?” she asked softly.

“Wait really?” 

“Which one before I change my mind,” she teased.

“Prisoner of Azkaban, obviously,” he muttered.

“Such a nerd,” she said as she began to turn on the movie. He hummed before he pressed his lips to the top of her head. Slowly he started running his fingers through her hair, twisting the end of it between his fingers.

Around an hour into the movie she was asleep, but Luke was still wide awake. Tilting his head to the side, he looked down and admired her sleeping features. His heart pounded hard against his chest. 

She was so beautiful and so perfect. She was everything he’s ever wanted in a girlfriend. But she was in Michigan and in a year from now he could be in Jersey. He clenched his jaw as he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling. His hand continued to glide along her back, he slipped his hand beneath her shirt, to feel her skin against his fingertips.

All he’s ever wanted and now he needs to let her go.

When she woke up, the first thing on her mind was her conversation with Luke last night. She was hungover, but not as violently as she thought she was going to be. On the other hand, Lydia and Darren were so drunk, they were passed out in her bathroom. She drank liquid IV before she fell asleep, knowing that it would help her in the morning.

Her memory was hazy but his words ran through her mind on repeat. He told her that he was in love. Which was nearly impossible to wrap her mind around the idea that he was. She was in love with him, she was sure of it. But there was no way he felt that way towards her. 

Instead of wallowing in bed, she decided to climb out of bed to cleanse the night away. Her shower lasted nearly an hour. Her music was loud and all she wanted to do was stay in the shower letting the water wash away all of her problems instead of facing it head on.

After the water started to run cold, she was forced to leave the safety of the shower. After washing every inch of her body and smelling like vanilla; she was satisfied as she covered her body with a t-shirt and a lose pair of shorts.

She walked towards the bed to see her phone vibrating on her bed. She sighed as she flipped it over to see Luke was calling her. No longer showing the contact photo she had of him. Sighing she brought her phone close to her ear as she answered. 

“Wanna go for a drive?” Luke asked, skipping straight to the point. Her mouth fell open as she tried to find something to say. “Y/N?” he let out.

“Uh, sure? Why?”

“Come outside,” he mumbled before hanging up. Slowly, she pulled the phone away from her ear as she stared towards it for a second. Sighing, she began to walk out of her room. Lydia yelled at her about being quieter, but she ignored her as she continued down the stairs towards the front door.

She pulled the door open and stepped outside to see Luke’s car in front of the house. Walking towards the car, she opened the passenger door and sat in the seat without looking towards him.

“Hey,” he let out quietly. She didn’t say anything, instead she put on her seatbelt as she kept her gaze in her lap. He put the car in drive as he started to pull out of the neighborhood they shared. “Can we talk about last night?” 

Ignoring him, she reached over and turned up the soft country music on his radio. Reaching a light, Luke shifted his gaze towards her. Their eyes connected for a moment before she shifted her gaze down towards her lap.

“Y/N, do you remember last night?” he asked quietly. 

“I remember,” she mumbled, “I just don’t want to talk about it,” 

“Y/N,”

“You told me you were in love with me but your tongue was done another girl’s throat minutes prior; and I was supposed to believe you?” she forced out. His mouth opened before it clamped shut, “Since you want to talk about it, let’s talk about that, Luke.”

“Everything I told you last night was true,” he explained. She huffed as she switched her gaze out the window. “Do you really think I was pretending?” he asked. She took in a deep breath as she tilted her head back fighting tears.

“We spent nearly every day together for six months and out of no where you end it over text; what else am I supposed to think?” 

“I ended it because I was scared,”

“Scared of what Luke?” she let out harshly.

“Hurting you,”

“Well, you did that anyway,” she mumbled. 

“Y/N,” 

“Seriously, Luke, how can you say that you love me and just makeout with another girl right in front of me?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” he let out while shaking his head. “I really thought I could keep enough distance from you to keep it casual. And then it stopped being casual and I was falling for you,” 

“What are you doing right now?” she asked while rolling her eyes. 

“I’m trying to fix this,” he let out as he pulled into a parking lot near one of their favorite restaurants they used to go to together.

“There is nothing to fix, Luke! You ended things with me and then two days later starting making out with a girl right in front of me. The only reason I got in this car was to tell you that you can’t tell me you love me after the way you treated me for months. We can be friends because of Mark but that’s it. Now turn around and take me home,” she explained as tears fell onto her cheek. 

He swallowed hard as he met her gaze. He chewed his bottom lip for a moment before he took a deep breath. “I really was trying to do the opposite of hurting you,” he mumbled. She nodded. 

“I know,”

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Cold Jealousy

I am back once again with more Silco brain rot. Feeding all of you who need the content as well as myself.

Summary: Who knew jealousy was all it took for to have your first kiss with Silco?

He hates the coiling in his stomach that arises whenever you laugh at something a patron says. It sickens him, seeing you lean in so close to another man, your lips moving as you say something and then smile, causing the table to burst into laughter. He knows you're simply close friends with them, after all they are your childhood friends, people who grew up with you, so of course you'd act overly familiar with them but he can't stop his chest from tightening, his fingers twitching.

The nib of his pen pierces through the page he was writing on and he scowls angrily at the mess, trying to drown out your voice but it's intoxicating, a melody that snatches his attention away from the numbers in his notebook. Your laughter is like a drug, leaving him wanting more every time he hears it, and the thought that it's someone else eliciting it drives him insane.

"You alright there?" Vander slides him a glass of scotch, worry clear gentle grey eyes.

"I'm fine," Silco spits back, a little harsher than intended. Of course Vander would notice something was off, Vander knew him way too well. He turns back to his notebook, trying to suppress the whispers that begin to cloud his mind and stares at the numbers, willing them into his brain.

"You know they only have eyes for you right? They don't look at anyone the same way they look at you." Vander glances over at the table where you're currently playing a game of cards, and from the looks of it, losing.

"I know," Silco scowls, stabbing the page with his pen. Vander simply huffs and turns to attend to the customer who just pulled up at the counter. Silco rolls his eyes and closes the notebook, he's done for the night. There's no way he can continue concentrating when you laugh like that, when butterflies flutter in his chest and turn to stone as he remembers you're not laughing at something he said or did.

"I'm going to get some air," he grunts, slipping out the back door.

Out of habit, he makes his way to the rooftop, sitting at his usual spot and looks out at the sprawling underground city beneath. Neon lights flash from various stores like stars, illuminating figures as people walk past but the silhouettes disappear just as quickly, fading back into obscurity. It's the same pattern every night, he's memorised some of the figures already, knows the habits of certain individuals, and has noted the important ones. He spots the lady with twin brown hair buns who frequents the brothel opposite, the two enforcers who always sneak into the nearby drug store during their nightly patrol and nearly misses the sound of your footsteps.

"Hey." You take your seat next to him.

"Y/N." He barely spares you a glance before looking back at the city below. The night wind whistles through the air, sending shivers through his body and he curls up, hugging his knees to his chest. Dammit, he forgot his coat. The air here is chillier at this time of the year, being so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city's nightlife, but it brings a sense of peace that he treasures, especially when it's with you. Tonight, it just feels cold, probably from his lack of a coat, but there's a numbness he can't explain.

The clink of glass snaps him out of his thoughts and he glances up to see you produce a bottle of wine as well as two glasses.

"Sorry, I couldn't swipe a bottle of scotch so I grabbed the next best thing before anyone could catch me," you smile at him and pop the bottle open. The red liquid sloshes in the glass as you fill it up and hand it to him, "peace offering?"

He wrinkles his nose but takes the glass anyways, mumbling a thank you before letting the liquid slide down his throat. It doesn't have the same burn as scotch does, but there's still a pool of warmth that sits in his belly, although it does little to alleviate the chill he feels.

You smile and pour a glass for yourself, taking a sip, following the direction of his eyes. Silco swirls the red liquid around in his glass, biting his lip. The silence is awkward, but he won't be the first to break it, his pride won't let him. Fortunately, you shift closer to him and shrug your jacket off, wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Don't catch a cold on me."

He snorts in response, tugging your jacket tighter around himself. It smells nice, smells like you with a hint of his cigar's smoke. He can pick out the scent of wine, the smell of the soap you use to wash the jacket, the remnants of Piltover's smell from your afternoon stint and a small smile makes its way onto his face as he remembers the way you threw yourself at him, clutching a bag of freshly baked bread, laughing as you yelled at him to run for his life. The pool of warmth resting in his belly spreads to the rest of his body, sending tingles up his spine as he buries his face into the jacket's fabric. The fabric is worn but still maintains a certain level of softness, and it feels as nice as it smells.

He watches as you finish your glass and exchange it for the bottle, remembering his own unfinished glass and takes another sip. Scotch was still the best drink, a shame you didn't manage to filch a bottle of it. You down half the bottle in one go, sighing in satisfaction and gesture at his glass.

"You don't have to force yourself to finish it, you know?"

He scowls, and finishes the rest of his wine, all the while staring right at you. "As if I'll let you have any of mine."

You laugh, and he finds that your laughter sounds better when it's because of something he said than when it's because of something someone else said, besides, there's the added bonus of giddiness that fills him. He smiles, for the first time tonight and sets the glass down next to yours. The awkwardness has been broken, much to his relief and he feels as though he can breathe easier.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You gesture towards the myriad of lights. "Piltover's lights can't compare to this."

"That's because most of their lights are the same colour," he snorts, "but yes…it is beautiful."

You beam, taking another swig from the bottle and set the bottle down, leaning back on your hands. The night breeze ruffles through your hair, playing with its strands and Silco watches as a couple of strands fall between your eyes, causing you to huff and puff at it until it falls off your face. The next gust of wind is stronger and you shiver, shifting closer to him. He shakes his head and throws the left half of your jacket over your shoulders so it covers the both of you.

"Don't you catch a cold on me either."

"Thank you for sharing my jacket." You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. He nudges you back, the back and forth going on for a while until the jacket slips off your shoulder and he leans over to pull it back on. Electricity crackles from where his skin brushes against yours and he feels his heart leap into his throat when he looks up at you, realising how close the two of you are.

Sure, the both of you know how the other feels, knows the unspoken truth but continue to dance around each other, fearful of what acknowledging the feeling would bring, but tonight just feels right. He feels your hand intertwine with his and he leans in, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. You lean in as well and your lips meet for the first time.

The feeling is addicting, Silco quickly learns. The way your lips lock with his perfectly, the way you lean in as his fingers run through your hair, the way your free arm wraps around his waist, pulling him closer, all of this makes him wish this moment will never end. Unfortunately, the both of you need to breathe and so he reluctantly parts from you, pressing his forehead against yours. It feels natural, to feel your warmth, to hold you underneath your jacket, and from the way you're looking at him with such adoration in your eyes, you feel the same way.

It doesn't need to be said, nothing needs to be said, the only thing he needs to do is close the gap once more and taste the wine on your lips, savouring the sweetness of it all. This is the one time he will admit that wine tastes good, but he still prefers scotch.

Your hand gently cups his cheek and he finds himself leaning into the touch. Your thumb runs over his skin, brushing along his cheekbone and he sighs, surrendering to your warmth. A small smile graces your lips and he can't help but smile back, although his smile is rather lazy.

"We should head back before Vander has to come and haul us away," you murmur and Silco reluctantly extracts himself from your touch.

"And before he closes the bar up so that we don't have to wash the glasses." He picks said glasses up, nudging the empty bottle towards you. "You are still going to throw the bottle away, I'm not touching that."

"Why? You were so eager to touch my saliva just moments ago," you tease, mirth decorating your features.

"I'm not about to deny you your responsibilities." He ducks out of the way as you try to shove the empty bottle into his arms, quickly making his way back into the bar before you can succeed in making your problem his. He hears your annoyed shouts behind him and laughs, sliding into the bar's counter.

Vander raises an eyebrow as Silco places the glasses in the sink and darts off, then shakes his head as you come barreling in, demanding that Silco help you as payment for the wine he drank. He grabs the both of you by your collars and drops you both at the sink. "I believe washing everything in the sink will suffice as payment for the bottle of wine."

You groan when you see the amount of empty cups in the sink and Silco laughs, turning on the water tap. At least you're trapped in this with him, the washing should go by faster.

As the both of you hunch over the sink, you give him a little nudge with your elbow. "Next time, if you're jealous, just step in. I'll leave with you, I promise."

"Jealous?" He splutters. "I wasn't jealous!"

"Sure you weren't, Mr 'angrily stabs an innocent piece of paper with his pen'. Keep trying."

He huffs, turning his attention back to the glass he's currently wiping dry. "I wasn't jealous."

"Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that. I doubt that changes facts though."

"Nobody said that was a fact."

You lightly punch him in the shoulder with your damp fist and he mock glares at you, smacking your arm with the drying cloth but can't stop the smile that's forming on his face.

"Don't ever doubt yourself," you say softly. "You mean everything to me."

And you mean everything to me too.

[kaelidascope]

On one hand, I'm relieved to see that it isn't just me suffering in the engagement department whereas I used to get flooded with comments and the like every time I dropped something. It isn't the only reason why I've moved from fanfic work to original work, but it is part of it. The last round of engagement on the latest MM chapter was abysmal, and while I know it's not a reflection of my quality in writing, I kept beating myself up over the possibility that I took too long to update it and people gave up on it/forgot/fell out of love with my work because I as a creator was not performing good enough. It drove me into a bit of a depression for a while.

On the other hand, this is making me rethink my stance on never telling my favorite authors how much they have inspired me to take off with my writing career. This is going to get a little lengthy but I want to talk about it so bear with me here.

Closed circles know how much of an insane, unhinged fan I am of certain writers, yet I have never actually said a word to them. I think I left one comment on maybe two fics that went unanswered (which is fine. They're not active in the fandoms I'm in anymore and I'm just some guy out of probably hundreds all saying the same thing. They're not gonna reply to me) but apart from that, you wouldn't catch me dead actually admitting how much the works mean to me. But why?

I guess I was far too proud and too terrified of being let down if I exposed myself like that. Despite the fact that these authors were literal catalysts for borderline impossible feats I have done within the last year, WELL RECEIVED FEATS at that, I swore I'd never tell anyone how inspiring they were for me. (Unless a casual friendship has been established. I have had the tremendous honor to able to talk to some of my inspirations one on one but under incredibly lucky circumstances)

I had a scenario in my head that these were the cool kids, and if you ever got picked on at all for admiring anything, you know damn well you never tell the cool kids about your admiration. I was afraid that they'd take one look at the work that was inspired by theirs and laugh at it in their enclosed circles. I wasn't going to risk having my confidence crushed and lose the motivation to continue working on my projects by being a fan.

I know not all authors do this. Every time someone comes to me and tells me I've inspired them to be a better writer, I literally frame it in a collection of screenshots I have saved on a hard drive. Every. Single. Time. And I know anyone else would tell me that if the person I admire would actually be cruel enough to mock an up and coming writer, then they're not worth admiring. Which I agree with! But try telling that to sensitive little Kaeli that safeguards their interests with the fiery defensiveness of a feral bear on cocaine.

But then I see posts like this, and I put myself in their shoes. I don't know them. They could be a jackass but they could also be like me - someone who bases a lot of motivation for project completion based off of whether or not people even care to see it completed.

This is all a very long, round about away to say that who cares if the author you build a mini-shrine for in your brain thinks your cringe for liking their work? Odds are they probably need to hear that you liked it so much, it inspired you to do something with that feeling. We all need to hear it. They inspired you and now you're making something that will inspire someone else. To be a creator is to share that passion everywhere you go. There's nothing cringe about it.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[venusbyline]

Revenge ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 30, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader x Aegon II Targaryen

— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: mirror sex

— summary: Aegon wants to please you, his niece and betrothed, during the night of your nineteenth name day. However, everything goes wrong when you reject Aegon's touch and he decides to try to make amends with Aemond, letting the younger prince take revenge on your brothers in the worst way possible.

— tags/warnings: kinktober 30th day, female!reader, dark!Aegon, dark!Aemond, Jacaerys' twin sister!reader, betrothed!Aegon, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT (i'm not kidding, this is REALLY disgusting), rape/non-con, mirror sex, Targcest (uncles/niece), degradation, non-consensual somnophilia, vaginal sex, rough sex, breeding kink, blood and violence, squirting, overstimulation, forced orgasm, dacryphilia, crying, dumbification, vaginal fingering, unconscious sex, fainting/collapsing, forced pregnancy, breeding kink, cum eating, cum swallowing, blood licking, sexism, age gap (older men/younger woman), marriage of convenience, ambiguous/open ending, implied/referenced cheating, face slapping, hair-pulling, sadism, revenge sex, threats of death, emotional manipulation, book accurate ages (It's 133 AC. Reader's 19, Aemond's 23, Aegon's 26, Jacaerys' 19, Lucerys' 18, Joffrey's 16), referenced Targaryen-Velaryon Incest (sister/brothers), referenced consensual underage sex, minor Velaryon brothers/reader, implied Aemond Targaryen/Helaena Targaryen, bisexual(?)!emond, bisexual(?)!Aegon, minor Aemond Targaryen/Aegon Targaryen, Aegond, dark content, dom!Aemond, switch!Aegon, sub!reader, canon divergence (No Dance of the Dragons/War for Succession), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @dearjardim

— author notes: It's MENTIONED during the fic that Aegon's obsession with the reader has been going on since before the night in Driftmark, 120 AC. So at that time, you would be 6 years old and Aegon would be 13/14. Although this is just a MENTION of Aegon's dark desires and isn't graphic at all, it's important that you understand about the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag and read all trigger warnings. This is just a FANFICTION, but Aegon's thoughts are disgusting anyway.

Aegon II Targaryen had been quite impulsive when choosing the woman he would marry. He knew that getting betrothed to his niece, Jacaerys's twin sister, would not be an idea well received by his family, especially by his mother and his younger brother, Aemond, but he decided to act on that decision without thinking too much about the possible consequences.

His obsession with you, the only daughter of his half-sister, Rhaenyra, was almost unhealthy. Aegon has watched you grow, just as he has watched Jacaerys and Lucerys grow. He liked to see you trying to keep up with them when the three boys got together to play some trick on Aemond. They never let you spend much time with them, and Aegon even made fun of you, just like he did with Aemond.

At that time, Aegon did not know how to deal with the intense feelings he felt about you, finding it disgusting that he was much older than you. Gods, you were younger even than Aemond. He really could not deal with those thoughts, and venting about them to someone would be a bad idea. He would probably get a beating from Harwin Strong — the man all people of King's Landing knew was your true father — when the knight was still alive.

Trying to keep you far away, Aegon chose making you a butt of jokes. Jacaerys and Lucerys never seemed to notice how Aegon really felt about their sister and even liked to have fun at your expense.

As the years passed, the family had grown apart. The fight involving Aemond against Lucerys, Jacaerys and Daemon's daughters parted the Targaryen family into two sides. Despite always being a terrible older brother, Aegon had tried to make it up to Aemond after he lost his eye. He did not like to admit that he blamed himself a little for what happened. However, the thought occurred to him with a damn frequency. If Aegon had not been drinking like an asshole that night, perhaps he could have defended his brother.

He wanted to be a better brother to Aemond, he really tried to be, but nothing seemed to be enough for the younger prince. Nothing seemed to make him happy. Not even when Aegon took Aemond, who was still ten and three years old, to a brothel and introduced him to Madam Sylvi. Aegon thought his brother would like to become a complete man and he would like to get his cock wet. But he was definitely wrong.

He could remember with anguish how Aemond opened the curtains and walked out into the halls of the brothel after the act. Aegon tried to ask him how the sex had been, if he had liked it... But all Aemond did was give him a cold and hurt look, replacing his eye patch and continuing to walk so both of them could leave soon.

When Aegon returned to the brothel the next week, he asked Madam Sylvi about Aemond performance and expected a naughty response from the whore. Anyway, hearing the phrase "He is not a child now" clearly did not sound as sensual as he imagined. He needed to drink a little more to avoid wanting to cry when he realized that in fact Aemond was no longer a child. He had taken that away from his brother when he convinced the younger to joined him to Street of Silk. Even after so many pranks, until that fateful day in Driftmark, Aemond still trusted his older brother. He was still an innocent child, with just one eye and his fierce Dragon.

And Aegon had destroyed the last vestige of innocence inside Aemond's heart. Aegon had ruined everything again, just as he had ruined everything every time he played tricks on you with your brothers and called you a fucking bastard the night Lucerys accidentally took out Aemond's eye during the childish and violent fight. You were not even there when all of that happened, but Aegon thought offending you would be like making up to Aemond for his absence and lack of protection.

Now, 133 AC, thirteen years after the family chaos in Driftmark, Aegon was trying to slowly restore some peace by proposing to his half-sister, Queen Rhaenyra, a betrothal to you. It was a way of seeking a truce between the grudge that Rhaenyra and Daemon held for Alicent and her children. And most important of all, it was a way to make amends with you and Aemond, even if his brother hated you.

"What do you think about your new necklace, my dear?" Aegon asked you after the festival in King's Landing to celebrate your and your twin brother Jacaerys' nineteenth year of life.

"It is very beautiful, uncle." You replied with a tense voice, observing yourself in the large mirror with golden edges in Aegon's private chambers.

You were not someone who liked breaking the rules, especially when they involved secret meetings with your uncle Aegon. You still harbored resentment for the way he started to mock your and your brothers' legitimacy after Rhaenyra and Alicent's complete estrangement. At first, you thought about denying his call for you to accompany him through the castle corridors, but the idea of receiving one more gift seemed tempting. And in fact, you did not regret. Actually, you were enchanted by the necklace with the pendant of a golden dragon with silver-toned wings.

"Do not call me uncle anymore, my dear. You are my future wife now." Aegon reminded you with a chuckle, standing behind you and watching as you admired the pendant. He could see the way you seemed to want to ask something and he knew exactly what it was. "Yeah, the dragon on the pendant was made especially to represent Vermithor."

He said and your eyes widened immediately. Just like Rhaena and Aemond, there was no dragon for you when you were born. You only managed to claim Vermithor four years ago, however, your bond with the elder dragon was already quite admirable. Vermithor was a fierce creature to everyone and he was like a puppy to you, so meek and docile that sometimes you found yourself venting alone to him. A habit that only increased even more after your mother confirming your betrothal with your uncle.

"This is... This is... This is incredible." Your eyes filling with tears. You lifted your face to observe Aegon's reflection behind you, his soft smile as he returned your gaze. "My most sincere thanks, Aegon. This is the kindest and sweetest gift I have ever received. I swear."

Aegon's cheeks flushed a little. He was not used to being kine or sweet. Much less listen someone calling him like that. Your thanks slightly caught him off guard and he cleared his throat, trying to hide his sudden nervousness, hoping you would not notice how sweaty and shaky his hands were when he placed them on your shoulders, a little taller than you while you were still watching each other in the mirror. "You look so fucking delightful right now."

He purred into your earlobe. The warm air and the smell of wine made you frown and step back. You were not used to being touched like this by men who were not your brothers and you did not feel comfortable with Aegon's sudden physical proximity. Of course he was your fiance and very soon you would be forced to consummate the marriage, but there were still many barriers between the two of you. Barriers he built to keep you away when you were a child and now he was determined to break them at any cost.

"Do not do that again." Aegon scolded you, fire coursing through his veins at your abrupt departure. He hated that you were acting like you were disgusted by him. Damn, he was trying to be good, was not he? He was being a good betrothed and redeeming himself with you. "I gave you a fucking gift you loved!"

You flinched at his loud husky voice, stopping just looking at him in the mirror and turning to him, the size difference not being as intimidating as it was when you were still a little girl seeking approval from your uncle and your brothers. He did not even have the same long hair as before. Now, Aegon kept his dry silver hair to a medium length, giving him an appearance of lack of care, as well as the intense dark circles under his eyes. Even though you would never admit it, you feared him but also you thought he was very handsome at the same time. Like your child version also thought these same things about Aegon when he was a teenager.

"And I already thanked you for it. However, I do not remember allowing you to touch me the way you just did."

"Seven Hells, do not be an annoying prude! I just rested my hands on your shoulder."

"And purred in my ear like a cat in heat, surely thinking I would give in to you so easily and we would sleep together before our wedding ceremony!" You exclaimed, without thinking straight. Your heartbeat was racing, your face red with anger that he had the audacity to call you an annoying prude.

Aegon growled at your words, moving closer to your body, until your faces were practically glued together and you could smell the wine he had been drinking throughout the festival, just as he could smell flowers fragrance coming from you. The tension was palpable, both of you staring at each other with anger in your eyes. It was like flames burning each other just with gazes.

You thought he would yell at you or at most throw you out of his chambers and take the gift back. You expected many things, except Aegon to abruptly cover your mouth, holding the back of your head with his other hand to stop you from struggling and running away.

"Perhaps, you bastard bitch, I am acting like a cat in heat because I know what a cheap whore you are." Aegon growled one more time, the fingers that had been holding the back of your neck now gripping your hair. "You always act like you are a maiden, but all people of King's Landing is already suspicious about how your cunt has already been filled several times by your twin brother. Jacaerys seemed quite furious when my betrothal with you was made official."

Aegon pushed you onto his large bed and you immediately tried to get up and scream, being stopped by the hard slap he gave you in the face, making you fall back onto his sheets, terrified as he climbed on top of you, holding both of your arms on top of your head. "If you try to do that fucking shit again, I am going to rip your fucking head off and gut you until you die. Our entire family is going to go to war and blood is going to be spilled because you are still the same spoiled bastard who cried and wanted to fit in with me when we were younger."

Something made you stop fighting against the situation. Perhaps it was your childhood memories of seeking approval from Aegon, Jace and Luke. Perhaps it was the threat of more chaos happening in your family if Aegon killed you. Perhaps it was all the alcohol you happily drank during your and Jace's name day celebration. Perhaps it was because you already knew that Aegon would rape you anyway if he was determined to do so. Perhaps it was all of that. You simply stopped, sobbing a few times before shaking your head.

"Good girl..." Aegon chuckled at your submissive reaction. "Just look at the ceiling, alright? I promise it will be good."

You did not know what Aegon meant, only understanding when you obeyed. Looking up at the ceiling, you saw that there was a large mirror placed there. You could watch yourself lying in bed, your face soaked with tears, your hair disheveled and your hands being held above your head. You had never been so shocked due a reflection. It was a clear sample of Aegon's obsession, firm fingers holding your wrists in the way he wanted, while his other hand simply hiked up your nightgown, taking advantage of your lack of reaction to take off and throw your underwear on the floor. Aegon was about to take off the tunic he was wearing, before being interrupted by the door opening and then closing.

"Am I interrupting something, brother? One of your guards said you demanded my presence here. I was busy and could not arrive at the ordered time." Aemond's cold voice echoed through Aegon's chambers and your eyes widened. You looked away from your reflection for a while, barely feeling Aegon fingering your slightly wet folds. You was incredulous at the fact that Aemond was so nonchalant with the sight of his older brother about to rape their niece. You could not tell if it was simply because Aegon often did atrocities like this or if it was also because Aemond had hated you since both of you were kids and he was not at all pleased with his brother's obsession with marrying you.

"Oh, busy with Helaena, I must assume." Aegon teased his brother and Aemond rolled his eyes, clearing his throat and pointing to the scene in front of him.

"May I know why my presence here is necessary?" The youngest asked and a moan escaped your lips when Aegon stuck two fingers inside you at once, drawing your attention back to him. Aegon raised his eyebrow as he noticed how, despite the painful and abrupt intrusion, your little cunt accepted his fingers without much difficulty, which meant not only that you were no longer a maiden, but that you had also fucked with someone recently and completely ignored your future marriage with your uncle.

"Looks like you were not the only person to fuck with your own sister today, brother."

Aemond could not help but smirk, tilting his head in mockery when he saw Aegon took his fingers out of you and shake your wetness away, almost as if he was disgusted. "Who would have thought that the rumors about her and Jacaerys were true..." The prince mocked, approaching the bed and making you flinched your body into the mattress. "Tell me, dear niece and sister-in-law... Which of your Strong brothers has already fucked your dirty and disgusting cunt? Only Jacaerys? Or also Lucerys and Joffrey?"

You whimpered at the invasive and demeaning question, knowing you would be in danger if you revealed the true, but you would also be in danger if you lied. "Not Joffrey yet."

It was Aegon's turn to mock, with some irritation. "Joffrey's small cock has not gotten wet inside you yet, but I bet you at least taught him how to eat you out. After all, he is already ten and six. That is old enough." The stare Aegon received from Aemond made him swallow hard. It was clear that his younger brother still felt angry about what happened at the brothel when he was thirteen. "Well, I mean..."

Aemond ignored his brother's attempt to justify himself and looked back at you, his cold hand touching your warm core, enjoying your wetness and rubbing your pearl, eliciting confused and tearful moans, your mind trying to encourage you to scream and run far away of them and your body begging him to keep rubbing your clit. Perhaps a little stronger. Stronger enough to draw your blood. Jace, Luke and Joffrey were always too sweet to you. Too noble. "That does not matter. What matters is that you are nothing more than a hole for your brothers to use."

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes and letting the tears flow. When you turned your face away, Aemond's hand grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to pay attention to what he was saying. "Now I understand why my brother was obsessed with you when we were younger. You were always a cockslut, I bet."

His words sinked your heart and you shook your head, so fast that your vision even blurred. You wanted to deny it, say that you were nothing like that, say that Aegon had never been really obsessed with you. But nothing came out of your lips. Actually, your panicked mind was starting to make you believe that Aemond could be right about both things.

"Uhm, I still remember everything before that night in Driftmark... How you were always running after Aegon and your brothers, desperate to be seen... Just like how my brother was always pushing you away." He scoffed, gripping your chin tighter. "Probably because he felt sick about himself thinking those naughty things about you. After all, you were only six years old and he was almost ten and four. A drunk teenager wishing for such perverse things and—"

Aegon grimaced as Aemond spoke, clearly uncomfortable about having his dirty little secret exposed right in front of you. "That is enough, Aemond." The older man softly growled and Aemond frowned and let go of your chin abruptly, his thin lips pulled into a sarcastic smile.

"You still have not told me why you demanded my presence here, brother." The last word sounded bitter to the ears of the three of you and Aegon took a deep breath, determined to take control of the situation again. Or at least a little part of the control.

He pointed to you, lying on the bed with the legs open, your cunt now wetter and your face reddened from crying, the empty look in your eyes making it obvious how confused and vulnerable you were. The confused and vulnerable state that your own uncle and future husband had left you simply because you refused his touch.

Aemond did not seem at all bothered by what he was seeing. You did not notice any trace of desire coming from him either and if it were not for the way a slight bulge began to appear in his pants, you would even believe that the scorn and resentment he always felt for you was bigger than the anger and desire to get revenge on Jacaerys and Lucerys.

"Are you offering me our niece?"

The question was said without a hint of enthusiasm and Aegon laughed, knowing his brother well enough to know that he just wanted to maintain the typical facade of indifference. "Well... I wanted to give you and my betrothed a gift. I was going to suggest that the three of us have some fun tonight to celebrate her name day..." Aegon purred, his calloused fingers caressing your bare thigh. "However, due to her spoiled and thankless behavior, I wish you to take her first."

Aemond was surprised at first, his good eye switching between you and his brother. He had already imagined several possibilities to get revenge for the things his nephews did when they were all kids. He had even thought that your betrothal to Aegon was already a good form of revenge, despite hating his brother even more when he realized that he had never gotten over that ridiculous obsession with you.

Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey had been furious when they discovered that their mother had agreed to let Aegon marry you. They were scared of what would happen to you, neither of them ever believing Aegon's stupid explanation about a peace treaty.

Aemond knew that his nephews would be furious if they knew what he was about to do with you, just as he knew what Aegon wanted. Aemond was not dumb, he understood that Aegon blamed himself for the tragic events in his life. Aemond understood that Aegon blamed himself for taking away his chance to lose his virginity willingly and with someone he was really attracted to.

And then, Aegon was there, giving you to him like an apology. Also, he was giving Aemond the chance to take revenge on his nephews and take you before himself.

Aemond did not respond with words. Instead, he just pushed Aegon aside, taking his brother's place on the bed and starting to undo the ties of the tunic he was wearing.

With each brutal thrust from Aemond, a tearful scream from you resounded throughout the chambers, muffled by Aegon's large hand, who was sitting next to you, caressing your dark hair with his free fingers.

All of the three of you was admiring different points of the view reflected by the mirror on the ceiling. Aegon was focused on the sight of your little cunt, so tight and being brutally fucked by Aemond's thick and rosy cock. Aegon could hear the sudden noises caused each time Aemond's body hit yours hard, your wet core making it easier for your uncle and brother-in-law to fuck you rough and deep enough that the walls of your pussy began to feel so much sore.

Despite the blurred tear-filled vision, you stared at yourself in the reflection, your heart clenching with self-loathing as your muffled screams stopped being pleas for Aemond to stop hurting you and started becoming just loud whimpers about how you were cumming again. You had actually lost count of how many times you had cum around Aemond's cock. You had already lost count of how many times you had squirted and even lost consciousness for a few seconds.

You felt like you were about to die and all that kept you alive was Aegon's fingers stroking your hair like you were his precious doll and Aemond's seed filling you for the second time in the last hour. Aemond looked at his own reflection after cumming inside you, his Sapphire's eye shining in the mirror, as well as the sweaty skin of his chest. He felt powerful. He felt alive. And best of all, he finally felt the good but bitter taste of revenge.

You were almost sure that Aemond was determined to breed you. And you were almost sure that Aegon had allowed it, because even when his younger brother pulled his wet cock out of your sensitive and bruised hole, Aegon just waited for Aemond to start getting dressed to take his place, bending down in front of you and licking the mixture of blood and cum that dripped from your cunt, ignoring your tears and the forced submission coming from your trembling body.

"You are disgusting, Aegon." Aemond huffed after Aegon licked and sucked your clit until you were squirting on his face too, your weak whimpers making you look like a sad kitten. "You should stop. She will end up convulsing and dying if she cums again."

"Oh, but she wants to cum again. Do not you want that, my dear?" Aegon teased, rubbing your swollen reddened pearl. You shook your head, the confused movement seemed like a confirmation and a denial at the same time, which elicited a chuckle from your future husband. He turned to Aemond and pointed at you. "See? She is going to be a perfect wife. All it took was a cock and she is already completely stupid and brainless, like a real good wife should be."

"Uhm, I guess she is not a very strong girl." Aemond scoffed, the word Strong bringing you horrible memories and making you whimper and turn your face into the pillow, until you finally fell asleep while Aegon was still eating you out. "I am serious, brother. Let our whore niece sleep and get some rest." Aemond murmured a little impatiently, his eye scanning the Vermithor pendant of your new necklace and then to Aegon's lips, wet with your juices and creamy with the mess of your blood and Aemond's seed. "Just stop eating my seed. Your future wife will not get pregnant with my child if you keep being a greedy and needy slut, sucking out all my cum just for you."

Aegon's eyes widened, in disbelief at his brother's words, raising the head and being interrupted just as he was about to defend himself. "Besides, you are going to end up cumming in your own pants if you keep just watching everything and settling for scraps. Our niece cunt is delightful, however, I will be waiting for you in my private chambers so you can continue apologizing to me, brother."

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

So Danny is older, and lives in Gotham as a mechanic (he could be a We mechanic, a JLA mechanic, whatever) and eventually, he starts dating Bruce Wayne.

Now, Danny knows the Wayne at the bats, it’s kinda hard to hide your vigilantism from a former vigilante. But Danny doesn’t mention it, he knows the dangerous of telling your loved ones.

Jazz is alive and a therapist is Coast City (Jazz x Hal? Could that work? Idk too much about the green lanterns). Dan is undercover to investigate pools of corrupted ectoplasm that’s guarded by an assassin cult, and Dani is still traveling the world, not for pleasure, but for the Realms.

Dani doesn’t age. It’s a side effect of being a clone. She destabilized one to many times and now her ghost half won’t let her age so she won’t die.

Dani can’t exactly settle down in a city likes the others. She looks 12. And while her siblings would take care of her in a heartbeat, she needs to fill her obsession of history and adventure.

So, she starts hunting for old artifacts, especially the magic ones. It’s a great way to learn about history and get a sense of adventure.

She’s been doing this for a couple years, building a name for herself and she gotten very good. (Keep in mind she only looks 12, but she’s actually like 33 mentally and intellectually)

Eventually, she crosses paths with a bat while searching for an artifact. (Even better if its Duke. We need more Duke. Probably won’t work with Cass, we’ll use Duke for the prompt, but can be switched out)

Obviously, Duke is kinda confused as to why a 12 yo is going after a dangerous magic artifact in the middle of but-fuck nowhere and offers to take her to Gotham and drops her off there after taking the artifact.

Dani knows better, she was going to refuse, but the realized she could take this as a free ride. So she agrees.

The reach Githam and go their separate ways, and Dike goes joke immediately, didn’t even take the time to tell anyone about the girl. but when Duke is at home hanging with their civilian stepdad, Danny gets a call and says he’s inviting his younger sister over

Bruce: Jazz? Jazz is older that you

Danny: nope! I have another sister!

Everyone: ???

Bruce: how comes we never meet her?

Danny: you have! She was at the wedding! But you’ll see her again don’t worry! She doesn’t visit often so I’m excited!

They arrives, the bat opens the door and Dani walks in.

Danny: Dani!!

Dani: Danny!!

So people are confused, Duke is like omg my aunt is an artifact hunter?? while everyone else is like omg my aunt is younger than me??

Eventually, Danny opens her backpack and goes:

Dani: so I was in *insert random place in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere* and found this! *pulls out artifact* I thought you would like so I brought it for you!

Danny: aww, thanks Dani, you shouldn’t have

Duke, who put that artifact in the cave for study: 👁️👄👁️

And Dani gives them a wink.

Duke isn’t going to take that lying down and attempts to find out Dani’s secrets while shes thwarting him at every turn.

Dani stays at the manor for a while, but nobody believe Duke when he tries warning them of Dani, because Duke didn’t tell anyone about the artifact

Things become even more alarming when Danny also start thwarting him, despite not know the family secret. (Danny thinks that Duke is onto the family secret.)

Cue crack, angst, fluff, whatever your heart desires.

[astrologysaysno]

I keep giggling at 1 am in the morning about the idea of an A/B/O SVSSS Au where Shang Qinghua is an omega but absolutely sucks at it.

So imagine that he's presents as an omega, but to Shang Qinghua, he can't seem to feel it. Everyone else seems to feel his 'omega-ness' when he presented, so it's probably just him that can't feel the change. The system himself said that he was an omega (A/B/O was never canon, so Airplane wouldn't have thought about what secondary gender SQH was) so he just has to roll with it.

The rest of his story is just him flubbing and epicly failing at this whole Omega thing. Even his system has given up.

His Non-A/B/O first life as Airplane has left his brain incompatible with his body, the motor skills and instincts that you're supposed to have going with your secondary gender are out of the picture, it is not built into his mainframe, so he's basically a de-facto beta with extra no second gender psychologically speaking.

His superiors are keeping a wary eye on him, his fellow peers a wash of mixed reactions to his overall behaviour, worried about who he is and his complete disregard for norms or basic instincts.

He appears completely scent blind to pheromones, nor does he seem to be able to control his own. His master remembers a time where he was the unfortunate victim of two aggressive alphas fighting in the dorms, causing so much havoc they ended up breaking his inkbrush.

The scent from him when it broke was so acrid and sharp they immediately ceased, though he seems to be none the wiser, acting in his usual cowardly manner while shakily asking them to stop.

His martial brothers have never seen him nest in all of the years he's been on the peak. Not a single piece of clothing, not anything comfortable. He simply had a single pillow and a blanket for cold nights as he dozed off. It doesn't help that he avoids everyone like the plague, so even if he tried, he didn't even have anything to build one with

(The system tried to give him the task of making a nest, and he completely misunderstood, building an actual bird nest on his mattress. The system decided not to give nor take points, simply choosing to shame their host for this stupidity. Shang Qinghua keeps it by the windowsill, a memento for unintentionally spiting fate and living.)

In comparison to the rest of his fellow An Ding Disciples, he's antisocialism incarnate, zero bonds that connect him to anyone. (Shang Qinghua can't afford that, not unless he wants the weight of people on his conscience when he betrays his sect.)

It's kind of like that one classmate everyone is familiar with, but no one actually knows them. They just see him in class and forget the rest. He's scarily competent in group works and is capable of working with people, but he's never gonna respond to your text to hangout after the project is submitted and graded.

His master sees this as a detriment. How is he going to be able to have healthy relations with his future pack as a peak lord if he can't seem to get the initiative to actually communicate and bond with them.

So he coordinates a trial run with the Bai Zhan and Qing Jing Peak to help their own head disciples get a grip. A mission to be given to them to get them to open up and become closer as friends.

It backfires tremendously, only ending with the three of them becoming more prickly or antisocial. Only the most formal of greetings will ever seem to come out of Shen Jiu's mouth now, barely hiding his sharp demeanour. Liu Qingge seems to be at least willing to talk to others now, but his relation ship to the future leader of Qing Jing has now soured.

And Shang Qinghua is now more apathetic to the idea of bonding to his future pack, rathering to become completely detached from them.

(Shang Qinghua is destined to be a traitor, so why should he allow himself to experience the cruelty of betraying someone he cares about. It would be kinder this way)

[Love the fact that I just went absolutely everywhere with no coherent thoughts. Enjoy the word vomit I guess.]

[arc-misadventures]

Morning. For the Friends Au it appears that Winter is trying to reach out to Jaune... and maybe he sees it and it's confusing him as to why.

Does her each out to Saphron and Terra, and seek their advice?

On a side note, great series. Looking to further posts as you have time.

Specialist J.A.

Winter: Specialist Jaune Arc. It has a nice ring to it. Don't you agree?

Jaune: It has a bit of ring to it... But, it's not as special as you're making it sound.

Winter: You should be proud, Jaune: You're the youngest person to ever be accepted as a, Specialist, and the first person of none, Atlasian descent to become one. So, take pride in your accomplishments, Jaune.

Jaune: Okay, being the first none, Atlasian to join the, Specialist doesn't sound like that much of an achievement. But, am I really the youngest member?

Winter: Oh yes, I was twenty when I joined, most others, Specialist were around twenty one as well when they joined. You are nineteen years old; You are the youngest member to ever join the, Specialist!

Jaune: Wait really...? Wait, twenty? Does that mean you're around twenty three then?

Winter: Careful, Arc... You should know better than to ask a lady her age...

Jaune: I-I-I'm sorry! I've just been curious how old are!

Winter: And, why do wish to know that?

Jaune: I was just curious!

Winter: Curious...?

Jaune: Yeah. You have this ageless beauty about you, Winter. So, I've always been curious.

Winter: Ageless beauty...?

Winter: Ahem! So... So what do you think of your new uniform?

Winter changed the topic as she looked away from, Jaune hiding a faint blush threatening to spread across her face. Meanwhile, Jaune looked at his reflection taking in his new, Specialist uniform.

It wasn't what, Jaune had expected, but he loved it nonetheless. It was similar to the uniforms to the rest of the, Specialist work as in style.

Jaune's uniform was more of a long sleeve sweater than a dress shirt. A zipper ran up the middle of it to the high collar. A sleave that ran over zipper to connect to a series of buckle buttons on the side. The front was a vibrant white with red stripes running along the side. The rest was the vibrant deep blue that was commonly found on, Atlasian uniforms.

His blue denim jeans had been replace with black combat cargo pants, giving him extra pockets to store necessary supplies. His boots had also been chaged for more modern combat boots, rather than the surplus boots, Ruby tends to wear. He found the boots quite nice, there was space in the boots he could fit something like a knife in it, perhaps her should do something like that.

Jaune: I didn't expect the blue would fit me so well. I know the red, and white suit me. But, I was never sure of the blue.

Winter: The blue is quite fetching on you; it matches your eyes quite well.

Jaune: Really? T-Thanks...

Winter: Your welcome. So, how does your armour feel?

Jaune: Mmmm... It feels a little tight; I think I need to ask one of the armourers to readjust it for me.

Winter: I see... Well, you can ask the armourers to resize it for you, that shouldn't be a problem for them. In fact, they could forge you new armour if you want.

Jaune: New armour? I know my armour is pretty good as it is, but would I be able to get some of that, Paladin Armour plating if I asked?

Winter: Hmmm...?

Winter: That’s a possibility… You'll have to ask about it.

Jaune: Okay, I'll ask them to remake, Crocea Mors then... It's probably best if I ask for, General Ironwood’s permission first. I suspected considering the metal this is used for your, Paladins its restricted from personal use.

Winter: While I'm not sure about that myself. But, I'm sure he'll agree to it, at least he may eventually let you do that. Once you prove your worth to, Atlas.

Jaune: That's fair. He's already upgraded my gear as is. It feels a little greedy of me to ask for another upgrade.

Winter: So, everything alright with your new uniform, Jaune?

Jaune: My armour is a little snug, but everything else is just fine. But, what's with this sash?

Jaune pulled out a deep rich crimson sash with a white snowflake pattern on the edge of it. Jaune looked at the beautiful needle work before staring at, Winter. She looked away as a small blush crossed her face.

Jaune: Winter?

Winter: I uhh... I got you a gift...

Jaune: A gift?

Winter: Yes, a gift to celebrate you're joining the, Specialist core. I would have gotten you something else, but I wasn't sure what... what you would like...

Jaune ran his thumb across the sash marveling on the smooth fabric, and the intricate detail woven into the snowflake.

His mind wondered at the red sash, he wore, Pyrrha's stash as a memento of her, the gold of his armour was also from her. He worse it keep her close to him. But, maybe...?

Winter: Do you... Do you like it, Jaune?

Jaune's mind was running until he saw a flash of red, and gold in his eyes, his eyes moved up to see the ghost of, Pyrrha looking at him. A smile spread across her face as she nodded her head, and gestured to the sash. Jaune's eyes darted to the crimson sash in his hands before looking back at, Pyrrha, and realizing she was gone.

Jaune smiled as his hands reached down, and grab the sash before wrapping it around his waist. Jaune looked down at the sash, then at it in his reflection. He nodded his head before turning to look at, Winter with a smile on his face.

Jaune: Thank you, Winter, it's beautiful.

Jaune hand pulled on the sash to move it so it ran parrel with his hip, while he was fiddling with it, Winter stepped forward, and readjusted it so it would look better.

Winter: Oh thank goodness... I was worried you wouldn't like it. I rarely get presents for my siblings, I've never gotten one for someone else so I was really... worried...

Winter's rambling was cut short as she finished adjusting, Jaune's sash before standing back up staring directly into, Jaune's cerulean blue eyes, their faces mere centimeters apart.

Jaune: I uhhh...

Winter: Y-Yes...?

Red slowly creeped across their faces before the game of chicken was called to the end as the both turned away,. Brushing away their blushes in the process.

Winter: S-So... did... Did you tell your teammates about you're appointment to the, Specialist's?

Jaune: Uhh... no.

Winter: Do you plan to?

Jaune: They'll find out eventually. Just like when I learned that they forgot to invite me to, Ruby's birthday party the other day.

Winter: What? They did, when?

Jaune: They texted me my invitation when I was about to talk to, General Ironwood about me becoming a, Specialist.

Winter: The message you said was from, 'no one important.'

Jaune: Yep, that one.

Winter: You don't see them as anyone important in your lives now do you?

Jaune: Just returning the favour...

Winter: I see. Well then... Specialist Arc!

Jaune: Sir!

Winter: Are you ready for your first mission as a, Specailst?

Jaune: Yes, Sir!

Winter: Good! You will follow me to the cafeteria where we, Specialist will be holding your initiation!

Jaune: Yes, Sir. May I ask what this incitation process will be, Sir?

Winter: Yes, to survive, Marrows cooking!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Eh?

Winter: The incitation is just a simple welcome party with food, drink, and cake that we, Specialist have. We're expected to each bring in our own food, hand crafted, or store bought. Marrow insists on bringing his family's chili recipe.

Winter: It taste terrible...

Jaune: Chili? Well... now I'm worried about the surviving bit... Should I bring something?

Winter: If you want to, but you're the guest of honour you don't have to.

Jaune: Why don't I cook something edible then. Something we can all enjoy.

Winter: You can cook?

Jaune: Seven sisters, and not a chef among the lot of them.

Winter: Well then, I'm looking forward to whatever it is you plan to make.

Jaune: When is the party?

Winter: This evening around six.

Jaune: That give me... five hours. I can whip up something nice by then. I best get to it. But, I'm going to change first. Don't want flour on my new uniform now.

Winter: I'll see you later then.

Jaune: till later then.

Winter soon made her way to the exit as, Jaune started unbuckling his armour. As the door opened, Winter stopped to say one last thing to, Jaune.

Winter: Oh, and Jaune...?

Jaune: Yes?

Winter: You... You don't need to call me, Sir, or Specialist Schnee... Just call me, Winter, okay?

Jaune: Okay... Winter...

Winter: Thank you~!

Winter smiled a sweet smile as she left, leaving, Jaune behind dumbfounded as he nervously swallowed.

Jaune: Shit...

Jaune: She does like me...

[leahwllmsn]

wait for me to come home

alexia putellas x reader

word count: 14.1k

You and Alexia have been best friends your whole lives. You’re adamant that moving away from Barcelona won’t change a thing between you. Alexia fears otherwise.

or classic best friends to lovers :)

“Can’t believe you’re really leaving.” It was midnight. You were sitting on your usual spot at the beach with Alexia, your head on her shoulder, both of you staring out at the sea. Despite the tightness in her chest, Alexia felt at ease with you next to her.

“I can’t believe it either,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

Alexia took a deep breath. You were only going away for a year, you said. It did nothing to calm the nerves she felt all over. One year, but that would be the longest you've been away from each other. Alexia still didn’t know how to feel, she didn’t know what to feel. She figured it still hadn’t sunk in, that you were leaving. Leaving her.

In the morning when Alexia would drop you off at the airport and you’d wave goodbye, that was probably when she’d feel everything. That was probably when the feeling of emptiness would set.

“I’ll call you everyday,” you said, hugging Alexia’s left arm tightly. “It will be like I’m still in Barcelona with you.”

Alexia chuckled, “You don’t have to call me everyday, cariño.”

You turned your head towards your best friend. “Are you saying you don’t want me to call everyday?”

“Don’t twist my words!” Alexia laughed. “It’s just that I don’t want you to feel pressured to have to call me everyday. You’re a busy woman. I’m the one who waits for you whenever you have night shifts and I watch enough of your Meredith Grey shows to know how busy things at the hospital can be.”

You snickered at her mention of Grey’s Anatomy. Alexia would always complain about how unrealistic the show was whenever you put it on, yet she still stayed by your side and watched the damn thing. You placed your head back on her shoulder and sighed. “I don’t care if I’m busy, I’ll always make time for you.”

Alexia gulped. It was the way you said it, your voice small, yet your tone firm, as if a world where you didn’t have time for her was just impossible. “I love you, you know.”

Alexia furrowed her brows when you didn’t answer straight away like you always did. She was about to open her mouth to say something, when you pulled away and stood up, stretching your hand out for her to take.

“Do you want to head back?” Alexia asked.

“No,” you cleared your throat. “Let’s just walk around. The sand is making me itchy.”

“It’s because you’re wearing shorts,” Alexia took your hand and stood up. “I told you you can sit on my lap, you didn’t listen.”

You dusted off the sand from the back of your legs. “Didn’t want to.”

“Why? It’s comfy.”

“How would you know? You’ve never sat on your own lap before,” you said, your tone teasing.

“Idiota.” 

You kept walking along the beach, swinging your arms back and forth. It was quiet, but nice. Just the two of you, enjoying each other’s presence. Alexia felt her heart twinge when she realized that she didn’t know when she’d have another moment like this with you.

“Y/n,” Alexia spoke up after a few moments.

You hummed in reply.

This felt really nice, the way your hands were intertwined… Your shoulders bumping every now and then… Everything felt so right. Alexia took a deep breath and tried her best to not let herself get too emotional. She didn’t want to cry just yet, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop if she did.

“Ale, what were you going to say?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Alexia immediately shook her head, reminding herself not to let those words slip. She looked down and focused on the way her feet were kicking the sand with every step she took forward. “Nothing.”

You brought Alexia’s hand up to your lips and kissed the back of it. It was something you always did, but it still made Alexia’s heart drop every time. 

Maybe it was because the gesture had always made Alexia fall for you even more, or maybe it was because Alexia knew the platonic way it meant to you when Alexia wanted more than that.

“I know you, Ale,” you stopped walking and turned towards her. “You’re thinking about something.”

“Hm? What makes you think so?”

You poked Alexia’s forehead softly. “You have that crinkle between your brows. And you’ve been biting your lip for the past few minutes.”

Alexia hated the fact that you knew her so well, because it meant that she could never hide anything from you. The only thing Alexia successfully kept hidden were her feelings for you. Apart from that, you knew her better than anyone, and she was the same to you. 

Having known each other for more than two decades was a factor, but Alexia felt like it was simply because you were soulmates.

Alexia realized that no matter how hard she tried to move on from you, you would always be the one for her. Even though you didn’t feel the same way, she knew it would never change how she felt about you. She made her peace with it.

“It’s nothing,” Alexia said once more. “I swear.” You seemed to take the hint and didn’t pry further.

You tugged her hand and continued on walking, Alexia turning her head to the side every now and then, observing you. It was dark, the street lights were dim, and the moonlight wasn’t too bright, yet Alexia can still mention every little detail of your face—she had memorized them all after years of looking at you—from your warm eyes, to the delicate bridge of your nose, and the curve of your small lips. You were so beautiful that Alexia always felt breathless every time she looked at you, despite having known you since you were kids.

In that moment, with you humming along to a random song, your right hand interlocked with Alexia’s left one, there was nothing Alexia wanted more than to just confess her feelings for you. But she knew that you didn’t feel the same way, so telling you would just be pointless.

You turned your head to look at Alexia, catching her staring at you with that look on her face, the one look that you never could quite comprehend. When your lips formed a soft smile, Alexia couldn’t help but instantly reciprocate. Your smile was beautiful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, your tone bashful.

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m so, so in love with you.”

“I’m so in love with you that my heart hurts every time you smile.”

Alexia shrugged. “Just thinking about how I will miss you a lot.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “So that was what you were thinking about earlier?”

“No. I was thinking about how I’m so hopelessly in love with you.”

“You got me,” Alexia replied instead.

You sighed, squeezing her hand. “I’ll miss you too. At least you have a million pictures of me in your phone that you can look at if you’re missing me.”

Alexia laughed at that. “You better have a million pictures of me too.”

“Of course, I do,” you snickered. “Even you in diapers, I have them all.”

“No, you don’t!”

“I do! Eli sent them to me.” You had asked Eli for pictures of baby Alexia and she didn’t disappoint. They were adorable, especially the one where Alexia was learning how to crawl, wearing nothing but her diapers.

“You better not show it to anyone.”

“I’ll post it on Instagram before I leave.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, “You’re such a brat sometimes.”

“I’m such a brat?” you let go of Alexia’s hand to pull out your phone from your pocket. You stopped walking so Alexia stopped too, arms crossed, waiting for whatever it was you were doing.

After a few seconds of you scrolling silently through your phone, you flashed your screen to Alexia, showing the picture you mentioned before. “Want to say that again, Putellas?”

“You’re so annoying,” Alexia groaned. “I swear to god if you post that—”

“Watch me.” Your face was smug.

“Y/n,” Alexia said slowly, her tone full of warning.

You grinned, tapping something on the screen before you started running. The sound of your laughter getting smaller and smaller as you ran further away.

“That little—” Alexia cursed under her breath before she started running after you. “Tonta! Come back!”

“No!” Your figure was getting tinier and tinier that Alexia couldn’t help but laugh along.

Eventually, Alexia was able to catch up with you once you stopped running. Your hands were on your hips, trying to catch your breath.

“Why are you making me exercise at one in the morning?” Alexia asked, exhaling loudly.

You shrugged in reply, still out of breath. Alexia had always been the more athletic one out of the two of you. “Just wanted to run.”

“I’m so tired,” Alexia groaned. “Training was tough today.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew she was just being dramatic. “That was nothing. You need to exercise more, Ale.”

“The nerve!” Alexia barked out a laugh. “Who’s the athlete here?”

“Not you if that run tires you out.”

Alexia smiled fondly at you. You get on her nerves a lot. She wouldn’t have it any other way. “Now what did you do? Did you post that on Instagram? Because I’ll kill you, idiota.”

“Oh no, I’m sooo scared,” you mockingly said, a pout on your lips. “Oh nooo.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes at you before she stepped forward and tickled your stomach.

“What are you—Alexia! Ale-Alexia stop it! Stop it right now!”

“Not until you delete that picture!” Alexia kept on tickling you. “Delete it!”

You were both laughing and Alexia didn’t show any signs of stopping until you tripped. You would’ve fallen to the ground if it weren’t for Alexia’s quick reflexes, her arms immediately encircling around your waist.

You were staring at each other, your breath heavy from all the laughter that had long died out. Alexia felt dizzy. Your lips were so close to hers, Alexia could just lean forward and all her questions about how your lips taste would be answered. Alexia saw you blinking back a couple of times, she even swore she saw your eyes dart to her lips. 

The street lights were illuminating your features perfectly and Alexia could see your lips twitching slightly—as if you wanted to close the distance between you too.

Suddenly your phone rang, breaking you two apart. You cleared your throat and answered your phone. 

Alexia let out the deep breath she was holding, rubbing the back of her neck. She had a feeling that she would kiss you if the phone rang a second too late, which would be a disaster. She was thankful to whoever called, because she would never forgive herself if she ruined your friendship just because of her stupid feelings.

“Sorry,” you said. “That was Leila, just asking what time I’d be at the airport tomorrow.”

“Right.” There it was again, the unsettling feeling in her stomach every time Leila was mentioned. Alexia swallowed hard, trying her best not to show her jealousy. She was the one who introduced you to Leila when you joined a night out with the Barcelona girls. Alexia didn’t know that you two would hit it off. She didn’t know that Leila would move to Manchester and shockingly, you got offered a job at one of the best hospitals in Manchester.

It felt like the universe was playing some cruel joke.

Alexia had to keep reminding herself that you weren’t hers, that you had every right to be with whoever you wanted. Alexia had no right to be jealous.

“That’s very cool, by the way,” Alexia said, putting her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “How you two are somehow going to the same country, same city.”

“Yeah, Codi said it was fate or something.” 

Fate? Me tripping over your leg at the playground when we were five was fate. Me immediately crying and you wiping my tears away until my mom came was fate. That was meant to happen because it made my mom invite you and your mom over for dinner, and it made us become best friends ever since. That was fate. Leila going to the same city as you was merely a coincidence. 

“Sure,” Alexia said, swallowing the bitterness in her mouth. “If that’s what you think.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. Ask me again in a year or so and I’ll tell you if Leila and I are fated or not.”

Alexia didn’t answer, instead she just kept on staring at you, taking in the sight of you standing in front of her for the last time.

In the morning, you were leaving. You’d have a new life in Manchester, one that Alexia wouldn’t be a big part of, seeing how she was all the way in Barcelona. 

Alexia tried to bury deep, deep inside the pain that kept on reappearing every now and then, but it was getting increasingly difficult with the way you looked back at her—your eyes full of tenderness, as if you felt the same way Alexia did, as if it killed you to not be able to say exactly what you wanted to say. 

But Alexia shrugged it off. There was no time to think about these made-up scenarios in her head. You were leaving soon. 

Alexia stepped forward and hugged you as tight as she could, wanting to remember the way you felt in her embrace.

—

You kept your promise and called Alexia everyday. It lasted for two months before things became more hectic for the two of you and the daily calls stopped. In your defense, you really did try your best, but some days you had late night shifts and when you didn’t, you had date nights with Leila.

“Cariño! I haven’t heard your voice in two days! That is crazy. I was wondering if you were still alive.”

“Ha ha. So funny, Alexia.”

“Such a busy woman.”

Alexia was thriving even more if that was even possible, scoring more goals and assists, earning her more media duties and appearances. She was busy too.

You would catch her on your television sometimes, an interview or replays of her games. You were used to it, you knew Alexia before and after her rise to fame. But without the back and forth texts, without the calls and hearing her voice, without having her next to you, Alexia had never felt so out of reach.

“Hey, is it a bad time?”

“Hola, princessa. ‘m about to sleep. So tired. Call me tomorrow?”

“Okay, Ale. Sweet dreams.”

“Love you.”

Weeks with limited communication turned into months and the next thing you knew, you went from knowing everything about Alexia’s life, to finding out she had a girlfriend from your girlfriend.

Apparently Olga was a mutual friend. Leila had only good things to say about her.

You called Alexia that night, asking her about it. She didn’t have much to say, a tell-tale sign that she was uncomfortable, but why she was uncomfortable you couldn’t decipher it.

“Is she good to you at least?”

“Yeah.”

“Does she make you happy?”

“Sí.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

For the first time since you’ve known her, you felt like a stranger in Alexia’s life. You couldn’t tell exactly when things changed. It must’ve been the depleting texts sent each day, the less and less phone calls until it went down to none at all for a week or two, and when you two did have time for a call, it felt… awkward.

The first argument started when Alexia casually joked about how you were so busy and you didn’t have time for her anymore, how you have a more exciting life now in Manchester. She was laughing but you just got off a twelve hour shift at work and you were exhausted. 

“Like you’re not the same?” you fired back, feeling a headache coming through.

Instead of changing the subject like you hoped she would, Alexia rebutted your claim. “I do have time for you.”

You let out a laugh. “Between football and your new girlfriend? You don’t, Ale. Don’t act otherwise.”

“Wow. Okay.”

You seemed to instantly snap out of it at the tone of her voice. Alexia sounded hurt and for a second, you felt guilty for starting a fight. But what she said hurt you too, because even though she said it in a joking way, you knew she meant it.

“Sorry,” you sighed. “Can we talk tomorrow? I’m not in the mood.”

“Right, yeah. Bye.”

The arguments seemed to snowball after that first one. Your calls were still rare, but when you or Alexia forced yourselves to call the other, it didn’t end well.

That should be the first warning sign for you—how you felt forced to call her when you used to want to hear her voice all the time.

“How was your day?”

“It was fine.” 

“Can you at least act like you’re excited to talk to me?”

“If we’re just going to fight, Ale, you shouldn’t have called.”

“Whatever. Good night.”

The next thing you knew, there wasn’t a call that went by without some small, unimportant argument.

It got worse when you told her you weren’t staying for only one year as originally planned. You liked it here in Manchester. You had a good job and you were surrounded by wonderful people.

Alexia ignored you for the whole day only to call you early in the morning, her voice raspier than usual. You knew that meant she spent the night crying.

“You don’t know when you’ll be back?”

“I don’t know when I’ll be back in Barcelona, no.”

“How am I supposed to go for… what? Another year without you? Two years? More?”

“You’ve been doing just fine so far. I don’t see the problem, Ale.”

“I miss you every night that you're not here. I don’t think that's doing ‘fine’.”

“Oh c’mon. We haven't been the same.”

“Just because we haven’t been talking as much doesn’t mean that I love you less, but whatever.”

It got even worse when you were supposed to fly back to Spain for Alexia’s birthday, but you had to cancel at the last minute because you were stuck with an emergency case at the hospital.

In hindsight, it was a stupid reason, something you could totally resolve by having one of your co-workers take over for you. But your mind went into overdrive, you somehow convinced yourself that you couldn’t leave the country.

Maybe it was out of fear of seeing Alexia again, not wanting to see how the distance had changed your dynamics.

Alexia’s reaction when you told her you weren’t going to be there hurt more than you could admit. 

“You’d never miss my birthday and I’d never miss yours. That was a promise.”

“We were seven, Alexia.”

Alexia didn’t say anything else and you didn’t need to see her face to know how dejected she was. You ignored the pain in your chest, convincing yourself that you were doing the right thing. You didn’t need to fly for more than two hours for someone’s birthday.

The old you would’ve screamed at you if she knew what you were doing. Alexia wasn’t just someone. She was… she was your everything and more. 

When midnight rolled around and you would usually be next to Alexia, wishing her a happy birthday with a present in hand, and instead you were all the way in Manchester, you felt that maybe you were dumb to let the arguments get in your head.

You took a deep breath and texted her a happy birthday. You weren’t sure if she would pick up if you called. 

Alexia didn’t reply to your text until noon that day, saying how she was off to celebrate with her family as usual and she’d call you after dinner. She didn’t mention Olga, but you knew she was there from Alba.

You sat in your apartment alone in the dark, Leila was out with her friends. It was only then that it dawned on you how lonely you were. You couldn’t imagine how Alexia was feeling—that was, if she still cared about you.

You had been there for Alexia’s birthday ever since she turned six years old. You didn’t think that you’d ever miss one, ever. But here you were.

It was weird to see Olga in place of you, seated between Eli and Alba as she grinned at Alexia blowing the candles out.

That used to be you.

Instead, you were in a different country, wishing you were at a place where someone else had claimed your spot. 

When it was way after dinner time and you still hadn’t heard from Alexia even though she said she’d call, you decided to send her a text. Something short and straight to the point: can I call you?

Alexia didn’t reply and you fell asleep with a feeling so hollow in your chest, you wondered if love was supposed to hurt this bad.

stop making promises you can’t keep, alexia

The loud ringing of your phone woke you up. You didn’t think that you’d see an incoming call from Alexia this early.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hello to you too, Ale.” Your tone was curt. In your defense, you had just woken up. 

“You’re picking a fight,” Alexia stated. “I don’t know why, but it’s not nice.”

“Picking a fight?” You scoffed in disbelief. “Is this about my text? I was simply telling you to stop making promises, because you can’t keep them. You told me you’d call me, you didn’t.”

You said it so accusatory that Alexia felt a sudden rush of anger. “You’re being ridiculous. I fell asleep. I’m calling you now, aren’t I?”

“I’m being ridiculous? Is it not me who had to wait for hours for your call?”

Alexia let out a bitter laugh. “Saying all that like I don’t usually have to wait hours and hours for you too?”

“Well, you’re the one with the empty promises. You promised me that things won’t be different between us, well. Look at us now.”

“That’s not entirely my fault and you know it. If we’re playing that game, you said you’d call me everyday, you said you’d always have time for me. Look at us now, cariño!”

Alexia never raised her voice at you. That was how you knew things were truly different now. “I was busy. Some days I have twelve hour shifts, Alexia,” you replied simply, not wanting to raise your voice too.

“Busy,” Alexia scoffed at you. “But you still have time to watch Leila’s games every week.”

You immediately felt defensive at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. “Why are you dragging Leila into this?”

Alexia was about to give you a piece of her mind, about how having a quick call with her wasn’t as time consuming as watching a 90-minute football game, but you still had more to say.

“Leila has nothing to do with us turning into… into this mess!” So much for not wanting to raise your voice at her. “Besides, you have Olga too. You spent all your time with her and forgot the plans we made first.” You fired back at her, a part of you hated that Olga took your place, that Olga was able to be in Barcelona next to Alexia, doing all the things you used to do.

People would think you were jealous, but you weren’t. You just didn’t like her. You didn’t like that she was taking up too much of Alexia’s time. That wasn’t jealousy.

“What plans? If I forgot something, then tell me. I’m not a fucking mind reader, Y/n.”

“What was I supposed to do? Ask you to pick between Olga and I? Why would I do that when I know you’ll pick her!”

(You might sound a little crazy. But you wouldn't admit that to anyone. In your defense, it was hard being demoted to second choice.)

“What’s your problem with Olga?” Alexia accused you, she knew you all too well.

“I have no problem with her. What's your problem with Leila?”

“Don’t change the subject. I was once your best friend, I know you more than anyone, and I know how you usually are when you don’t like someone.”

The use of past tense shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. You knew things had changed between you. “Glad to know you don’t think we’re best friends anymore.”

Alexia let out an exhale. “You haven’t been acting like you’re my best friend for sometime. Don’t act all innocent.”

“Even though we haven’t been talking much, you’re still my person. But since I don’t seem to matter to you anymore, I’ll just…” you trailed off, suddenly feeling stupid for all of this.

Alexia could feel that familiar tug in her heart, the feeling of wanting to make everything in the world right for you.

But for once, she casted it aside. The anger she had at you overpowering everything. “I don’t think I matter to you anymore either, so I guess we’re even.”

There was a pause before you utter your next words. “You matter the most to me.” 

Alexia could only scoff. “Sure, you have done such a great job of showing that I matter to you—you couldn’t even spare five minutes of your precious 24 hours to talk to me!”

Deep down, you knew that. You knew that you were guilt-tripping Alexia when you had your faults too.

None of you said anything else. For once, in the two decades that you’ve known each other, you both didn’t know what to say—had nothing else to say.

When all Alexia could come up with was “I don’t know who you are anymore. You’re really hurting me this time,” you knew you had to put an end to all of this.

“I think we should just… take a break from all of this.”

Alexia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. You didn’t think you had it in you to say those words either. Even though the conversations between you two had diminished, saying that you wanted to stop talking to each other felt so… final. 

“What?”

“I’m tired, Ale.”

“You don’t think I’m tired too?” you could hear the urgency in her voice. “What does that even mean? ‘Take a break from all this’? You want a break from me, you mean? What ever happened to ‘you’re my person, Alexia?’” Alexia mimicked your voice. She was getting angrier by the second, you could tell. 

“You told me I’m hurting you! I’m tired of hurting you. I didn’t even realize it, Ale. I never wanted that. All we’ve been doing is fighting each other. I don’t know how to stop this. I don’t see a solution to this, I really don’t.”

Neither of you knew where it went wrong. One day you two were fine—you two loved each other more than anything in this world—the next thing you knew, you couldn’t hold up a conversation where it didn’t end with exasperated voices and tired sighs.

It was the distance, you assumed.

You and Alexia were attached at the hip. The only time you two went separate ways was when she had away games and international duties.

It was a two and a half hour flight between Barcelona and Manchester, but neither of you had made the trip to see one another. Alexia seemed even more far away as the days went by.

She had Olga to turn to now, you could feel her not needing you anymore. 

It was the distance that took Alexia away from you, you would convince yourself that. It wasn’t the nameless feeling in your chest that felt a lot like yearning, jealousy, and regret all at once.

You ended the call, not knowing whether you’d ever talk to Alexia again.

—

Losing someone that had always been a constant in your life was devastating.

It was miserable. You were the most miserable you had ever been.

Leila kept on asking you what was wrong, your friends in Barcelona updating her that Alexia was in the same state as you. Not that you cared.

You didn’t know how to live without Alexia in your life, but you’d manage. You’d learn. This wasn’t the end of the world.

You steered clear of your social media, not wanting to see any posts of her from your mutual friends or from the Barcelona account.

Leila and a couple of your friends eventually stopped asking you about what went wrong with Alexia, to which you were glad, but the emptiness you felt when no one brought Alexia up to you was starting to make you uneasy.

Alexia used to be in all your conversations, she was a huge part of your life. Now it felt like she was never a part of it.

A few months passed by, your birthday rolled around and you assumed—you wished—that Alexia would break this silence between you two. It was your birthday after all.

But you should’ve known how stubborn she was. 

When you stayed up until the clock strikes midnight and there was no text from Alexia, when she used to pride herself on being the first person to wish you a happy birthday, you knew you had lost her for good. 

You spent your birthday with pain in your chest like no other. You just wanted Alexia back. 

Your friends in Manchester knew something was up with you, Leila figured that it was mostly because of Alexia. None of them could understand why it was upsetting you so much.

That night, you sat on your balcony and looked through the folder of pictures on your phone that contained decades worth of memories of Alexia. With each scroll, you could feel more tears running down your cheeks.

There was a photo of you when you were ten, Alexia next to you laughing at how ugly your haircut was.

Another photo was of you at prom, Alexia as your plus one. Despite the countless promposals you received, you’d rather have Alexia as your date than the stinky boys at your school.

When Alexia got called up for the national team for the first time, you were there with Eli to watch her score her first international goal. The photo you had was of her carrying you on her back. It was after the game ended and Alexia had too much energy that she had to carry you around the field.

The next photo was of Alexia sleeping at the library, you were studying for your exams when you were in University and Alexia had the day off. To her, nothing was better than spending it with you, even if it meant that she had to sit there and watch you study boring stuff. Alexia always had faith that you were going to be the best doctor in Barcelona.

You had a photo of when you flew across continents to watch her win the World Cup, grinning next to Alexia as she kissed your cheek, trophy in hand.

A photo of when she tore her ACL and you were there at her bedside as she was preparing to go into surgery. Alexia didn’t let go of your hand until she was in front of the operating room.

A photo of you and Alexia in a locker room, both in Barcelona jerseys. It was the day before your exam, but it was also the Champions League final. You brought your textbook and Alba kept on laughing when you studied during half-time.

Most photos were of Alexia doing mundane things. They meant the most to you because of how carefree she looked in all of them.

Alexia making stupid faces at you as you grocery shopped together.

Alexia laughing next to you in the driver seat as she drove you to work.

Alexia cooking dinner for the two of you, her eyebrows scrunching in concentration as she read the ingredients from her new cookbook.

Alexia sipping coffee in your favourite coffee shop in Barcelona. They served the best banana bread, you never wanted to share them with anyone, not even Alexia.

Alexia watching replays of her games on her iPad. She was laying down on your couch, your throw blanket draped over her feet.

Alexia smiling at you with that look.

As you reached the last picture you had on the album, a photo of Alexia taken by you the morning you left for Manchester—she was on the driver seat, a wistful smile on her face as she turned to look at you during a red light—you suddenly felt as if you couldn’t breathe.

You were in love with Alexia.

You were so desperately in love with Alexia, you had always been, ever since you let her become your first kiss.

You didn’t like any of Alexia’s relationships, because you were jealous. You thought none of her girlfriends could treat her well, no one lived up to your expectations. You felt like you were the only one who could understand her.

You hugged the blanket around yourself tighter, the gust of wind making your teeth chatter. You wanted Alexia there next to you, she would know that you were never a fan of the cold, always making sure that you were bundled up and warm.

You had a million thoughts running through your mind, mostly about how you missed all the signs of being in love with your best friend. Although deep down, you’ve always known that what you felt for Alexia was too intense to be strictly platonic. 

But when someone kissed you, having it meant the world to you, only for her to wish it never happened, you felt like it was justifiable that you decided to lock your feelings away.

Now that you’ve uncovered them, you didn’t know how to go on and pretend that you were fine with having Alexia out of your life.

—

Barcelona was playing against Manchester City at the Etihad. This wasn’t something you could get out of, you needed to be there to support Leila.

You had some friends traveling to Manchester to watch the match, you decided to sit with them instead of your usual spot at the Friends and Family section. You wanted—no, you needed someone to distract you from the person you hadn’t seen in almost two years.

You ignored your friends’ teasing at your Man City jersey instead of the Blaugrana colour (with Alexia’s name and number) you usually wore. They didn’t mention Alexia to you, having figured out the fallout, but a part of you wanted them to. You wanted them to tell you about Alexia and how she’d been doing.

Your resolve almost crumbled, Alexia’s name on the tip of your tongue. If it wasn’t for the players entering the field and the loud cheers from the audience, you would’ve asked them about Alexia.

Alexia, who was no longer blonde apparently. You saw her run to the field, her brown hair in a neat ponytail. Even from afar you could still see her smile. You hated that you still felt like jumping off a cliff at the sight.

You hated that your gaze was always drawn to her instead of your girlfriend.

Later when the game ended and Barcelona eventually won, you went to meet Leila at the barrier, whispering how great she played despite it all. 

You almost accepted her invite to a night out with some of the Barcelona girls. The temptation to see Alexia again was so strong, but you didn’t think you were ready yet. 

You saw her anyway, in your dreams that night. Maybe it was that deep yearning that caused you to text her as soon as you woke up.

good game yesterday. always proud of you

—

Your reconciliation didn’t happen all at once. 

You didn’t magically go back to being the same as you were before (there was some apprehension from both parties), but it was close enough. 

It was scarily easy to integrate Alexia back into your life even though you hadn’t talked to each other for so long.

First it was the likes on Instagram posts, or a reply to your Instagram story of gloomy Manchester sky, or a comment on Alexia’s post of her match day outfit.

Then the texts started. A simple text from Alexia telling you that she was through to the finals of the Euros. Or a text from you containing a picture of your cat, Mr. Oreo. They were evenly spaced out throughout your week, it wasn’t too often that it felt like you two were rushing back into being friends, but it wasn’t too scarce to leave you wanting more.

It was just perfect.

The striking difference now was that you were letting yourself fall for her. Every joke she made, every selfie she sent you, you took your time to admire her and let yourself fall even more.

Now that you were very much aware of your feelings, it didn’t feel right to continue what you had with Leila.

You loved her, but you must not have loved her enough because you were still able to think of another woman.

You ended it with Leila on a Tuesday. She didn't have a game until Sunday and you figured that was enough time for her to not be distracted. Surprisingly, Leila took it well, as if she knew this was coming all along.

And it felt like the universe was laughing at you, because after you broke up with Leila, you received a text from Alexia.

I’m getting married

You felt your heart drop. You had to put your phone back in your pocket because your hands were trembling badly.

You were suddenly desperate to do something, anything, before it was too late.

Even though a part of you felt like it was already too late.

—

Alexia arrived at the airport three hours early. She spent those three hours walking from one end to the other, flowers in hand. Her hands shaking and her mind racing with the thoughts of finally seeing you again.

She passed by the exact spot you said your goodbyes two years ago, both of you holding back your tears as you exchanged promises that things would be okay. The moment you walked away and went out of sight, Alexia finally let her tears fall, feeling that a part of her left alongside you.

In the middle of pacing around the airport, Olga called, and Alexia felt guilty because her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of you. She instantly buried the feeling of discomfort the moment Olga talked about their wedding.

Alexia was getting married to Olga. Her mind shouldn’t picture you the moment weddings are mentioned. She closed her eyes and bid Olga goodbye, not remembering what her fiancé called her about. 

You were her best friend. Nothing more. Why was it that even after years apart, her heart still ached and yearned for you?

Hours later, when you texted her to let her know that you’ve landed, Alexia made her way to the gate. She stood there, flowers tightly in hand, tapping her foot anxiously. 

You two had been slowly rebuilding your friendship. You texted each other, but never a phone call, and Alexia was nervous to hear your voice again after going such a long time without it.

Alexia was the first to spot you. You were dragging your suitcase, looking from side to side, as if urgently searching for something. And the moment your eyes found hers, your entire body lit up—the whole airport could tell that you finally found what you were looking for.

Everything drowned out and to Alexia nothing else seemed to matter anymore, her only focus was on you. On how your eyes shone with happiness and how your lips slowly curved into the smile that Alexia had missed so much. When you were finally in front of her, something clicked within her, and every hurt, every anger, every sadness she had felt because of you disappeared and she was left with the feeling of nothing but love and fondness for the girl standing in front of her. 

You were here and no matter how hard Alexia tried, she couldn’t feel half of what she felt with you with anyone else.

“Alexia, hi.”

Alexia didn’t say anything back, instead she immediately embraced you, hugging you with everything she had. She leaned down and buried her face in the crook of your neck, closing her eyes and squeezing you even more—just savoring the moment of finally having you there again. 

Alexia thought back to the last time she hugged you, trying to remember every single detail—from the way your arms were wrapped around Alexia’s neck, to the way your breath tickled her ear—trying to decide whether anything had changed. 

And when you kissed the side of Alexia’s head, laughing into her ears because she wouldn’t let go, Alexia decided that no matter how many years had passed and no matter how many arguments you two got into, your hug still felt the same.

—

Alexia,

The moment that has always replayed in my head for years is the night of your 18th birthday. We went to the beach after dinner and crashed someone’s party, and we both got really drunk. It was fun but the thing that made that night so memorable was because it was the first time someone kissed me and that person was you. 

The moment it happened, it felt like everything fell into place, you know? I understood why even my five year old self hated seeing you cry and just wanted to protect you from everything so you’ll never cry again. I understood why out of all the people in the room, my eyes always search for yours. I love you, Alexia. It’s always been you.

I was the happiest I’ve ever been that night. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world for being able to be in your arms.  

But when you woke up the next day saying that you wished that night never happened, it felt like the missing puzzle piece in my heart that you completed the night before disappeared again. 

Ever since then, I tried so hard to fill this gaping hole in my heart. I made it my life’s mission to go out there and meet the most perfect girl in the world just to try and replicate what I felt for you. But every time I’m with someone, every time I’m face to face with some perfect girl, your face appears and I’m reminded that they’re not you.

I love you, Alexia. I love you more with all the ups and downs we’ve had. I love every part of you and I love you with every beat of my heart.

I think I’ve always known that I was in love with you. I was just never brave enough to label it as that. So I didn’t. It wasn’t until recently that I realized: I couldn’t just sit here and watch you marry someone else.

You could call it selfish, but I wasn’t going to risk the slightest possibility of you feeling the same way that I do.

I know Olga loves you, but I also know that she’ll never love you as much as I do. 

To quote your favourite poet:

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,

I love you directly without problems or pride:

I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,

except in this form in which I am not nor are you,

so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,    

so close that your eyes close with my dreams”

If you think that this is all wrong, please just ignore it, and I promise I’ll never talk about this again. But if you somehow feel the same, meet me at our usual spot at the beach tonight, 10 p.m.

Yours always, 

y/n

—

It wasn’t like you didn’t know this would happen. This was why you never wanted to risk your friendship because of some silly feelings. You knew Alexia wouldn’t feel the same, your confession would go to waste, and you would be sitting on the beach, alone at night, waiting for someone who was never going to show up.

You thought of calling Alexia, to ask her what she thought of your letter. But you decided against it, this was humiliating enough.

Maybe Alexia was embarrassed? Maybe she felt bad for you. Maybe she didn’t know how to talk to you now, knowing that you had all these feelings for her. Or maybe Alexia just didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

You let out a big sigh and buried your face in your hands. You didn’t know what you were thinking. All those years of friendship… that was all it was: friendship. You should’ve known.

You checked your phone again. Nothing. No texts or calls.

You let out a laugh. Alexia wasn’t stuck in traffic nor was she late, she was simply not coming.

Feeling your eyes start to well up with tears, you took a deep breath before standing up. You didn’t plan on going back to your parents’ house just yet, stupidly enough a part of you still had hope that Alexia was going to show up. You needed to walk around and distract yourself, sitting in the same spot that contained so many memories of her wasn’t helping.

You took another glance at your phone, and when there was still nothing, you wished your heart wasn’t so weak when it came to Alexia.

—

Alexia never believed in fate or anything.

To be fair, she was five years old and watching movies where the princess always ended up with the prince and lived happily ever after seemed too good to be true.

That was until she met you.

You, who had your little legs outstretched on the grass as you snack on your cookies. You, who didn’t hesitate to wipe away Alexia’s tears when she tripped on your legs. You, who kept on apologizing even though it wasn’t your fault that Alexia wasn’t looking at where she was going, but you were trying to make her feel better.

You had been a constant in her life ever since then, with your wise wisdoms and never-ending ability to make Alexia laugh.

Alexia then understood that fate and destiny really did exist, because it was fate that brought Alexia to the playground at that exact moment—at that exact second—so she could meet you.

When Alexia lost you, she didn’t want to believe in fate anymore, because why was the universe so cruel that it left her on the floor of her apartment, crying and begging for you to come back.

You disappeared from Alexia’s life and Alexia saw firsthand how the world became gloomier, how her days seemed to drag on longer without your presence. 

Just when Alexia completely lost all hope, the universe had other plans, and it was destiny that she left her phone in her hotel room that morning, because if she didn’t, her phone would be in her pocket as she was thrown to the swimming pool because Vicky and Esmee decided that playing a prank on their captain was a brilliant idea. Her phone would be ruined and she wouldn’t be greeted with a text message from you.

A simple text telling Alexia that you were proud of her, but it left her breathless because she hadn’t talked to you in a year. You two had no contact for a year, yet she was still proud of you. Like always.

Fate, destiny, the universe, and all of that had brought you to her, took you away, then brought you back.

It was also fate that made Alexia reach down into her purse and open the envelope you’d given her before parting ways earlier—something tugging in her heart, screaming at her to read the letter you wrote to her, even though she told herself that she would do it after you’ve left the city.

And sometimes, the universe had a sense of humour, because at that moment, as Alexia finished reading the last sentence of your handwriting, her fiancé appeared in the doorway of their shared bedroom.

“Alexia?”

“I’m sorry.”

—

The only thought Alexia had as she drove over the speed limit was to hope that you were still there, waiting for her. Just like what you had been doing all of these years.

All of those wasted years where you two could be together if it weren’t for the doubts that forbade you from truly loving each other the way you were meant to.

“You’ve always loved her more than anything, Alexia. Even when she’s a thousand miles away, even when you two weren’t on speaking terms… She’s still the one you love the most. I could never compete with her.”

From this whole thing, Alexia was just sorry that she had to drag someone else into her mess. She would never forgive herself for saying “yes” to someone, knowing that her heart wasn’t fully in it.

“Olga, I never meant to make you feel like you were at constant competition with her. I really do love you.”

“But not as much as you love her.”

“I never planned on staying in love with her forever, I really did try to love someone else—with you. And I did. All these years together, I meant everything I said and everything I did.”

“I’ve always known that she would always come first to you, yet I still convinced myself that that would change one day. I know it made me a shitty person, but I was happy when you fought with her, because I thought that was finally it, you know? Finally you’d move on from her. But not even the fall out made you love her any less.”

Alexia would take whatever life will throw at her for hurting someone so deeply like she did to Olga.

But the only thing she could do right now was to find you and hoped that you were the happy ending fate had in store for her. The happy ending she’d dreamt of all this time.

—

When Alexia couldn’t find you at the beach, she figured she was too late. She tried calling and texting, but you weren’t replying to any of it.

So she went to your parents’ place, taking a slight detour to your favourite florist, picking up the bouquet they had ready, not wanting to waste another second away from you. Alexia figured you must’ve left thinking that she was rejecting you. Even if Alexia wasn’t in love with you anymore, she wouldn't have just let you sit there all alone, fearing the worst. She needed you to know that.

Your childhood home was dark and quiet. All the lights were off and Alexia remembered that your parents were in Mollet del Vallés, visiting your grandparents.

You weren’t here but Alexia wasn’t going anywhere else. She would just be there and wait for you—she had waited decades for you, a few hours would mean nothing. She sat down on the pavement, not caring how dirty her jeans were going to be, and pulled out her phone from her pocket. She called the only person she could think of.

It took a few more tries for Mapi to pick up, and once the call got connected, Alexia spoke into the phone, “I have a problem.” 

Mapi’s voice was groggy. “It’s midnight, you dumbass. Can you call me later?”

“No, this is urgent.”

Alexia can feel Mapi roll her eyes on the other end of the line, “When Ingrid kills me for being too noisy and waking her up, I’m blaming it on you.”

“Well, in that case, I hope she does wake up then.”

“Tonta.”

“María,” Alexia let out a tired exhale. “Do you know where Y/n is?”

Mapi groaned in reply. “Estúpida. I was asleep, how should I know?”

Alexia pressed her hand over her eyes and groaned, “I think I screwed up.”

Just when Alexia was about to elaborate further, even though she knew Mapi was half asleep, someone called out her name. Someone whose voice sounded exactly like you.

“Ale?” 

Alexia quickly opened her eyes. It really was you.

“Y/n.”

And there you were, standing in front of Alexia, head cocked to the side as if trying to figure out why Alexia was sitting there in front of your house at midnight.

Alexia quickly put her phone back to her ear, “Uhm, I’ll call you back—Tomorrow. I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodnight, María.” As soon as she ended the call, she quickly stood up.

Your arms were crossed over your chest, you were making yourself smaller, you looked so unsure of yourself that Alexia wanted nothing but to hug you and tell you that she loved you more than she’d ever loved anyone.

But all you had was apprehension written all over your face. Alexia understood. You must’ve thought that by her not showing up, Alexia didn’t feel the way you did. “What are you doing here?”

Alexia gulped. Now that you were in front of her, Alexia didn’t know what to say. “Did we really kiss on my 18th birthday?” Alexia blurted out.

“What?” You were confused and still reeling from the embarrassment of the whole thing. You couldn’t process what she said.

“I don’t remember it,” Alexia continued. “I swear. I swear on Messi.”

“What?” Your tone was full of surprise. “You don’t remember?” 

“No,” Alexia sighed, looking at you wistfully. “I would never stop talking about it if I did.”

You went silent for a few seconds, your face full of confusion. Alexia let you take it all in. “You don’t remember,” you stated in a questioning tone. “But you said you wished it never happened.”

“I couldn’t have said that, because I don’t remember—”

“Oh my god, you don’t remember?” It was like you finally realized what that meant. “Oh my god,” you groaned, placing your hands over your face. “I spent years thinking—I convinced myself that I wasn’t in love with you because you rejected me—”

“I didn’t!” Alexia interjected. “I would never– I was so hopelessly in love with you.”

You looked at her and your face turned paler if that was even possible. Your mouth agape, as if you wanted to say something but you couldn’t. How could you? When your best friend was telling you that she—

“Wait,” you realized something. “Did you say ‘was’? As in past tense?” You felt the hope that grew plummet to the bottom of the stomach. You knew it was too good to be true. “Is that why you didn’t meet me earlier?”

“No… No, Y/n, I read your letter too late. I didn’t know you were waiting for me. I would’ve dropped everything in a heartbeat to get to you.”

“Oh.” 

Suddenly you were laughing. Your laughter echoing throughout the empty neighbourhood. Alexia stared at you, unsure of what this meant but she couldn’t help the growing happiness in her heart with every laugh that escaped your lips. “I should’ve just texted you, right? I wanted to be romantic with the letter.”

Alexia shot you a comforting smile. At least fate brought you both here, to this moment.

After your laughter died down, you took a hesitant step forward. “But… do you really feel… the way that I do?”

Alexia sighed, being the one to close the gap between you and took your hands in hers. “If my years and years of pining weren't obvious, I feel the same. I’m in love with you. I still am. I never stopped, if we’re being honest. I broke things off with Olga, it wasn’t right to stay with her if my heart belonged to someone else. She deserves way better than some girl who was too much of a coward to confess that she’s in love with her best friend and ended up stringing her along for years, knowing that she would never love her the same.”

“So you…” you were at loss for words.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” Alexia continued. “This whole thing is a mess. I need to cancel my wedding preparations, I have to talk to a lot of people, but the only thing I know right now is that… I can’t let you go again. You’re my soulmate, I’m sure of it. I’ve been sure of it ever since we were kids. I won’t love someone as much and as deeply as I love you. So… yeah.”

You didn’t reply to Alexia’s statement, instead you placed one hand on the back of Alexia’s neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Once your lips met, Alexia’s mind went to two things: how she never wanted to kiss anyone else in her life and how exactly did she forget your soft lips when they tasted like heaven? 

Alexia’s hands wandered to rest on your neck, caressing the smooth skin that felt electric under her touch. Alexia’s mind was full with thoughts of you. Your lips on hers. Your hands around her waist. Your perfume engulfing her. Your nose brushing against hers. Your laugh vibrating against her lips.

Your lips curved upwards into a grin and Alexia could taste the happiness on your lips. She leaned forward once more for a peck on your smile and when you scrunch your nose in response, Alexia pressed another kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“That was… everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” Alexia hoped that you couldn’t hear how erratic her heart was beating. 

“We can take things slow,” you whispered against her lips.

“I’ve waited my whole life for you, I don’t want to take it slow,” Alexia whispered back. “But… I agree. We don’t have to rush this. We have the rest of our lives to make up for lost time.”

Suddenly your eyes drifted to the flowers on the pavement, raising your eyes at that. “Is that supposed to be for me?”

Alexia’s eyes widened when she realized the discarded flowers, quickly taking them and shoving them to you. “Uhm. Yes. These… these are for you.”

“They’re beautiful,” you replied, taking the flowers from her but your gaze never leaving her face. “Thank you.”

She pouted when she realized you hadn’t even glanced at it. “You didn’t even look at it!”

You grinned at her, leaning forward and wrapping an arm around her waist. Your face back in its favourite spot against her neck. “I bet they’re beautiful, just like you.”

“Okay, flirt.” 

Alexia quickly stepped back when she noticed that the flowers were squeezed in between you two. “You’re ruining my flowers.”

“I’m not,” you scoffed. You looked down and scrunched your nose at the sight. At least they still had the beautiful pink colour intact, your favourite. “Okay, kind of. But that was your fault.”

Alexia took your hand that wasn’t holding the flower and brought it to her lips for a kiss. “How was it my fault?” 

“I couldn’t resist hugging you.”

Alexia laughed and wrapped her arms around your shoulder. Swaying you side to side and sighing in content. Everything felt good. It felt like everything had fallen into place.

“Now you’re ruining the flowers even more!” your voice muffled with the way your face was squeezed into Alexia’s neck.

“I’ll get you new ones, mi amor. In fact, I’ll get you the whole shop.”

You laughed into her neck, placing a gentle kiss there. “I’m holding you on to that.”

Alexia hummed. “I love you, cariño. I missed you so much.”

“Me too,” you replied. 

“Say it back,” Alexia prodded, placing her cheek on the top of your head.

“Huh?”

“I… love… you.” Alexia said slowly.

Alexia felt your giggles tickle her neck.

“Princessa, say it back.”

“You already know the answer anyway.”

“Mi vida.”

“Alexia. I love you too.”

Alexia did know the answer—she had heard you say it a million times over and over. Despite that, Alexia still wanted to hear it a million times more.

—

Alexia had been to Manchester before but it was still hard to keep up with how busy the airport was. She couldn’t spot you—not at first. All she could see was people rushing to get somewhere despite it being the early hours of the morning. 

Alexia dragged her luggage to a secluded corner and pulled out her phone to give you a call. She put her phone to her ear and kept on looking around while waiting for you to pick up.

It was on the second ring when Alexia spotted you. You were sandwiched between people and you looked so small that Alexia would’ve missed you if she didn’t see the giant flower bouquet you were holding. 

Once you answered the call, Alexia laughed into the speaker, feeling her heart grow ten times bigger with the amount of love she felt for you. Alexia still couldn’t believe she was finally here, just a few steps away from the person she had missed so much.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because,” Alexia sighed in content. How did she spend so long convincing herself that she would be fine settling for someone other than you? “That bouquet is way bigger than you.”

As soon as Alexia said that, she saw you move your head in all directions trying to locate her. “You’re here. Where are you?”

“I am here.” Alexia stated, enjoying how clueless you looked. 

“Alexia.” 

“You always complain about how tall I am, how can you not see me?” Alexia kept her eyes on you—from your furrowed eyebrows to the small pout on your lips, one hand holding your phone to your ear and the other holding the flowers. She laughed even more when you kept on whining and your pout kept getting bigger as each second passed.

“You are annoying,” you groaned. “Can you just tell me where you are? I’m hungry.”

“Not because you miss me?” Alexia teased. “You only want me because I spoil you with lots of food.”

“Yes, that’s true!” you laughed. “So hurry up and tell me where you are so we can get food, Alexia Putellas Segura.”

“Ooh she’s using my full name now.” 

“It’s because I’m getting impatient!”

Alexia laughed, finally dragging her luggage and walking towards your direction.

Once she was behind you, Alexia ended the call and tapped your shoulder, making you jump slightly. Alexia chuckled to herself at how ridiculous she was for finding everything you did adorable.

You immediately turned around and once recognition settled in, you squealed and jumped to hug her. “Alexia! You’re blonde again!”

“Mi amor! I missed you.” 

When you broke apart, Alexia’s eyes started to well with tears. You were finally in front of her, smiling at her with your big smile and sparkly eyes. Two months without having you near felt so long.

“Baby,” you cooed. “Why are you crying?” 

“Just emotional,” Alexia squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears from escaping. “I missed your stupid face.”

“No one will be able to guess that you're the crybaby in this relationship.”

Alexia scowled at you. She would never admit that she cried more than you. Besides, no one would be able to verify this fact because she never cried in front of anyone, except you. “I am not.”

“Sure. Can we get that breakfast now?”

Looking at you behind your big flower bouquet, Alexia felt breathless, only because she still couldn’t believe that you were hers. At the same time though, she felt like she was able to properly breathe again, because you were finally back in her arms.

—

“Hey, Ale?”

“Yeah?”

You sat on the passenger seat, absentmindedly playing with Alexia’s hand that wasn’t holding the steering wheel.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”

Alexia gave you a side glance. “Are you questioning my driving abilities? When it was me who drove you around most of your life.”

“Maybe,” you kissed the back of Alexia’s hand. “You’ve never driven outside of Spain before. I’m kind of scared right now. For my life and for my brand new car.”

Alexia laughed, “Driving is the same everywhere, amor.”

“Fine,” you leaned over the console and pressed a kiss to Alexia’s cheek. “I trust you.”

Alexia scrunched her nose in response. “Stop kissing me and tell me where I should go next instead.”

“Just keep on going straight,” you responded. “Then turn left.”

“Now?”

“Are you seeing any left turns right now?”

“You just told me to turn left,” Alexia whined. “You’re such a bad navigator.”

“You should’ve let me drive.”

“You must be tired from work,” Alexia let go of her hand that was in your grip to caress your face. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

You looked at Alexia, taking the her hand in yours again. “So thoughtful, always a gentlewoman. Thank you, Ale.”

“I am thoughtful huh.”

You poked your tongue out at her in response. “I should stop before your ego gets too big.”

Alexia grinned at you. “I think my ego has been big ever since I knew I was your first kiss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re my first kiss, Alexia Putellas Segura. Just like I am yours.”

“The one I don’t have a single memory of,” Alexia noted. “How could you let me forget what would be the most meaningful experience of my life?”

“It’s not my fault you’re a lightweight,” you pinched Alexia’s cheeks to which the blonde laughed in response. “But hey, at least I tried to remind you of that night, didn’t I? About a thousand times these past few days if I remember correctly.”

Alexia hummed in thought, puckering her lips. “I think I need the reminder once again.” 

You giggled and kissed the palm of Alexia’s hand instead. “Later at home, okay? I can’t have you crashing my car.”

“I’d like that.” Alexia took a quick glance at you and smiled—one that reached her eyes, one that showed you just how happy she was. 

But you were suddenly thinking of home and how you used it to describe your Manchester apartment, even though you never thought of it that way. That was, until Alexia came to visit, leaving her things scattered around like she always did in your old place in Barcelona.

You yearned for days like this, with Alexia driving you back home, eating takeout on the couch as you watched a football match you couldn’t care less about. You let Alexia talk your ear off, giving her commentary on the game, you nodding along like you were totally invested in it too.

Home. 

Manchester had never felt like home. It was an apartment with all of your things, where you slept and showered and ate, but you never considered it to be your home.

Alexia visited one day and changed the meaning of the place entirely.

You lived here for years without Alexia, but you couldn’t imagine it without her anymore. 

You looked at your best friend as she sang along to a Spanish song, she was so off-key. A grin instantly made its way to your lips.

Home was wherever Alexia was. 

—

It was a no-brainer, really.

There was no reason to stay in Manchester when your heart lived in Barcelona.

It had been on your mind since you had to leave Alexia again as you boarded the plane back to Manchester a few months ago. It was the only thing you could think of as you waved goodbye to Alexia as she went back to Barcelona, her black cap and sunglasses covering her face, but you could tell there were tears running down her cheeks.

You knew she was scared that history would repeat itself and you two would argue again. But you also knew that it was different this time. There were no uncertain feelings in your chest, no other girl next to Alexia making you feel replaced. You were certain of your love for Alexia.

But it was time to come home. You knew that the moment Alexia kissed you for the second time.

You hadn’t told Alexia, but you were planning on coming back in a couple of months. You wanted it to be a surprise.

But the night before Alexia left, as you savoured the feeling of her pressed up against you, you came to the conclusion that you need to come back to Barcelona sooner than planned.

Having Alexia next to you felt so good. You missed it a lot. You knew you couldn’t stand even another month being away from her, so you changed your entire timeline and decided to move it up so you were coming back in two weeks.

You had a lot on your to-do list. It was a hassle to move away from the place you’ve lived in for years. It was even harder when you wanted to do it within a few weeks.

Alexia thought it was starting again—the space between you.

You didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

“Ale, you're just being a distraction right now.”

Which was true—you had less time to reply to texts and calls in between trying to get rid of your furniture and trying to cut your lease short—but Alexia didn't know that so it wasn’t the right word to use.

Out of context, it sounded harsh, and you figured you could’ve said it better. 

Alexia ended the call abruptly and ignored all your texts for the rest of the day. 

—

Turns out, Alexia decided to ignore you for a whole week. It was understandable, you royally screwed up, but the only thing that kept you from flying to Barcelona as soon as you figured out she was ignoring you was the thought that you were coming back soon. For good.

You left Manchester and years worth of memories behind on a Monday. Your parents welcomed you back with open arms and you spent the night eating your mother’s home cooked meal.

The next day, you knew Alexia had training until noon. So you went to a florist, bought the biggest bouquet of Alexia’s favourite flowers, and you met up with a Barcelona staff member with clear instructions that he was to give it to Alexia. And to make sure that she actually read the note attached to it.

Alexia, my love

Meet me at our spot at 4pm

You’re going to be done by that time, so you better show up

Yours,

y/n

—

You sat at your usual spot by the beach, the same spot where you got your heart broken a few months ago when Alexia didn’t show up. This time, instead of waiting for Alexia with dread and a heavy heart, all you felt was excitement at getting to see her again. 

This time, you knew that Alexia loved you too and you didn’t have to worry about her not showing up.

Alexia loved you too and you weren't going to let her go. It was that thought that kept on repeating in your head, the one that propelled you to leave Manchester behind and come back to Barcelona. As much as you loved it over there, you knew it would never beat the feeling of having Alexia next to you. 

You couldn’t wait to be with Alexia. Really be with her, not through a phone screen where her sleeping face would disappear once her phone ran out of battery.

“Amor?”

You craned your head as soon as you heard that voice. Alexia was still as beautiful as ever, despite only wearing some sweatpants and a hoodie that she stole from you when you were still in high school. 

“Hi.” Alexia put her hand up in a little wave. You smiled because Alexia looked so nervous, it was adorable. 

You stood up and walked towards her slowly, your face still amused at the way she was biting her lips—a nervous habit of hers. When you were inches apart you spoke, “Hi back. Why do you look so nervous?”

Alexia’s eyes drifted anywhere but you. “I’m not nervous.”

“You totally are,” you said, trying to catch her eyes. “Can I hug you?”

Alexia finally returned your stare and once your eyes met, Alexia’s entire posture softened and she leaned forward to engulf you in a hug.

“I missed you,” Alexia exhaled deeply. “It’s only been a few weeks but I missed you.”

You wrapped your arms around her neck, whispering that you missed her too. You breathed in her familiar scent and sighed. You felt at home.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Alexia said once you broke apart.

You shrugged. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well, I am very surprised.” Alexia took your hands in hers. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Can I kiss you now? Or are you still too nervous to do that?” you asked, your tone teasing. “ I can’t have you passing out on me.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips. “I’m not nervous.”

“So can I kiss you or not?” you asked once more, a grin on her face.

“Of course you can.”

And that was all you needed before you leaned forward and captured her lips with yours.

You kissed your girlfriend gently, you kissed her slowly while trying to convey just how much you missed her—how lonely your nights were without her to cuddle you to sleep and how cold your mornings were without her warm smile.

And when Alexia traced your bottom lip with her tongue, you couldn’t comprehend how fast your heart was beating. After countless kisses, you still felt the same way you did when Alexia first kissed you at eighteen—all fluttery as a thousand butterflies rummaged around your stomach.

Alexia’s lips on yours felt tingly, and Alexia’s hands that were caressing your waist felt like they had belonged there all along.

When you broke apart, Alexia’s hands stayed where they were, her forehead resting against yours while you both tried to catch your breath.

“I love you,” Alexia whispered. “I know I say that a lot, but I mean it every time.”

You hummed, your lips curling up into a smile. “I love you too.”

“I’m sorry, cariño, for ignoring you. I was just… sad, I guess.”

“No, I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have called you a distraction.”

“It’s just–” Alexia sighed, she was really beating herself up over this. “You’re supposed to tell me if you’re unhappy. I’m your girlfriend.”

You immediately shake your head. “I’m not unhappy—I could never be unhappy with you.”

“Then?”

You took a deep breath before continuing, “You were a distraction, but only because—Ale?”

Alexia blinked back, as if she didn’t quite understand what you said. She took a step away from your touch and turned her back towards you.

You were confused for a moment before you remembered how much of an overthinker she was.

“Ale. Baby,” you gently placed your hands on her shoulders and turned her around. Your heart broke at the sight of Alexia’s furrowed brows and the slight tremble in her bottom lips.

“Are you—Did you come back to break up with me?”

“Of course not,” you laughed. “Alexia—”

“Don’t—” Alexia tried to turn back around and leave, but you quickly grabbed her arms to prevent her from leaving.

“Alexia,” your hand travelled down to her hands, intertwining them with yours. “Look at me.”

You could see tears starting to well in her and you sighed at how much she resembled a kicked puppy. “Baby,” you cooed. “It’s nothing bad, c’mon, please don’t cry.”

“It’s not?” Alexia whispered out.

“No,” you flashed her a comforting smile. “I would never break up with you, you should know that by now.”

“Oh,” Alexia looked down, sniffling. “Then why? I’m a distraction to you?”

You lifted Alexia’s chin up with your finger. “Moving across countries isn’t an easy thing to do, you know. I have to talk to the hospital about my contract, I have to talk to my agent about my lease, I have to sell all my furniture, I have to meet with my friends to say goodbye—”

“What—”

“That’s why you were kind of distracting me, because I need to get a lot of things done if I want to come home to my girlfriend as soon as possible.”

When realization dawned on Alexia, her eyes widened and you laughed at how comical she looked. Alexia placed her hand on your mouth, muffling your laughs. “Stop laughing at me. You’re coming back?”

You took Alexia’s hand away from your mouth and grinned at her. Alexia’s eyebrows were raised, her face expectant as she waited for an answer.

You smiled fondly at her expressions before you answered her question with a kiss.

One second into the kiss, a giggle escaped your mouth, causing Alexia to break you apart, narrowing her eyes at your interruption. “Sorry, you were just too adorable.”

“Glad to know you think me crying is adorable.”

You placed a kiss on her cheek. “I don’t like seeing you cry but I wasn’t even breaking up with you, you big baby.”

“You’re so mean,” Alexia pouted. “But you’re really coming back? For good?”

“I am. I can’t be apart from you anymore. I love you and I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep next to you every night.”

“Cheesy.”

You scrunched up your nose. “Shut up. I’m trying to be cute.”

“So… will you be asking me to move in with you then?”

“Well…” you gave a sheepish grin. “I was hoping you would be the one to ask me that, since I don’t exactly have a place here anymore. Unless you want to move in with my parents, that’s okay too.”

Alexia laughed and pecked your lips. You felt warm all over. “Let’s go look for a new place. My place is too small for all our kids anyway.”

“Kids?” you looked at Alexia with wide eyes. “Alexia. Did you skip the entire wedding?”

Alexia wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you close. “I’m talking about Nala. And Mr. Oreo, your stinky cat. Add Vicky, Jana, Esmee to the list too.”

You slapped Alexia’s arm in response. “You scared me there for a second. We need to get married first, you know. No skipping a chapter.”

Alexia laughed, kissing the top of your head. You looked at her and the sight of your girlfriend with a big smile and eyes that displayed so much happiness gave you the sudden urge to kiss her again. So you did.

With the feeling of Alexia smiling against your lips, you knew that no matter where life takes you, you’d always come home to her.

—

Y/n,

I still remember the moment you left to go to Manchester. I remember watching you leave and I remember feeling so helpless because I knew that things would change. I saw you walk away and I have never wanted to scream your name so badly—just so you would look at me one last time. But I didn’t. 

I didn’t, because you were off to do amazing things and I couldn’t keep you here as much as I wanted to. And because a part of me felt relieved that we’d be spending less time together because it would give me the time I needed to move on from you.

It worked for a while. My heart didn’t break into pieces every time I saw you and Leila on social media, and my heart didn’t feel like it’s being squeezed every time you talked about her.

My daydreams about you stopped, I didn’t hear your laugh in the back of my head at random times of the day anymore. I thought that was it. I was moving on, and I started to swallow the bitter truth that we weren’t meant to be together.

But then one night you called me. It was in the middle of the night and you couldn’t stop laughing because of a joke you just thought of. You asked if I was asleep, and I knew you’d tell me to go back to sleep if I said yes, so I lied. Only because I missed your voice and because hearing your laugh again after so long made my heart feel whole again when I didn’t even realize it had a missing piece.

I realized that, no matter how hard I try to convince myself, I would never love anyone as much as I love you.

I started to spend each night cursing at the stars, being angry and asking why the universe gave you to me, but at the same time, never letting me completely have you. 

I settled for someone else because I thought that you’d never look at me the way I looked at you. I loved someone else and their name tasted just fine on my lips but I kept on wishing that it was your name that I was whispering into the dark nights instead. And I had to come to terms that I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life with you in the way that I’d hoped, so I said ‘yes’ to someone else.

But things happened, and I found out that you had been looking at me the same way all along—hidden glances, longing gazes, the desperate yearning to know how it feels like to love each other in ways no one but us can understand.

You’re my best friend, Y/n. You’re the bestest friend I’ve ever had and now, instead of cursing at the stars, I thank them each night because the universe gave you to me and now I have the chance to be able to love and admire every part of you.

Now your name is the only one I’d whisper into the nights—the nights where it’s just us two and your face that’s illuminated by the moonlight is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Now you’re the person I said ‘yes’ to because you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.

It’s been a journey, hasn’t it? I never would have thought that we’d be here, and that in a few hours I’d get to call you my wife. 

I love you, mi amor. I have loved you since I was five and didn’t know anything about the world. I have loved you when we were apart, when nothing else was left to say between us, when the mornings without your texts turned my world darker.

And I have loved you when we’re together, when I look to the side and you’re always there next to me, when your hands feel like they’re my long-lost limb—your hands holding mine, your hands around my waist, your hands tangled through my hair, your hands around my neck, your hands holding me at night when it’s quiet except for the sound of your heart beating in sync with mine.

I have loved you for so long that it’s now a part of me and I know that I would never go a day without loving you.

And despite knowing you for most of my life, I still get nervous around you. So I’m writing this letter in case I couldn’t blurt out my vows because of how you’d be looking at me—as if I’m the only star in your sky. I hope that by reading this, you know just how much I love you and how I don’t ever plan to stop.

You make me the happiest. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure that you’re the happiest too.

I’ll see you in a few hours. Can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle :)

Yours forever and ever and ever, 

Alexia

----

a/n: thank you for reading. this is my longest fic yet, please let me know your thoughts!<3