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randombush3 · 11 months

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ubi amor, ibi dolor

alexia putellas x reader

part one

words: 11455 (SORRY THERE WAS A LOT TO FIT IN)

summary: alexia and you as posh + becks part two x

content warnings: it’s gets a little sad but tbh the next part is the one you should be worried abt 🤘

notes: this one covers 2017-2019. i apologise if it’s a bit jumpy because if i covered EVERYTHING you’d be sat here reading for days. also, this part was so slow to be finished because i abandoned it for ages and only just decided i should probs get to finishing it. the next part is the last one!

It’s about three months later, and there is not a silence that can’t be filled with the sound of Alexia’s voice. You don’t know how to prove this, because you leave none to be filled, instead seeking to occupy every spare second granted by your tour schedule to call her, to text her; to talk to her.

You spend your nights on balconies all over the continent. Your smoking habit is worsening but the excuse of getting some fresh air to do so is a perfect way to weasel yourself out of parties and clubs and late-night chats with your friends. You much prefer to spend your time finding out more about the woman you quickly become obsessed with. She often verbalises her disdain for your disregard for your lungs – something that transcends the language barrier with an overwhelming clarity – but she is glad that you are talking to her either way.

A few times, you go as far as to hop on a secretly booked flight. You never step outside the airport, leaving Barcelona very much stamped in your passport but not on your list of places you have explored, but Alexia is more than content to pursue your hooded figure as you lead her into hidden corners of the arrivals lounge she begins to associate with the racing feeling in her heart when she sees you. Kissing against walls and on hard airport seats is not what feeds most budding romances, but you don’t care. You happily fly to her whenever you have a spare five minutes, and she is more than content to make the time spent physically together worthwhile.

The tour is nearly over. Five shows in three weeks, and then you can traipse back to London to fight off the delayed hangover in the comfort of your own home with meals cooked by your parents to keep you going. One of the worst things about being on the road is the food (or lack thereof), and your athlete gi… Alexia, is unimpressed with your nutrition. You find that she does not agree with most of your lifestyle, yet she seems captivated by it; like she is discovering a different, scarier world, and she can’t close her eyes.

Alexia’s birthday is soon.

She has enough dread for the event to have communicated it far more efficiently than usual, with most conversations needing to be doubled in length to get past the all-too-familiar grunts of unrecognition. The streets of Barcelona are filled with whispers of a women’s league, and she is unsure of the pressure that is starting to grow on her shoulders. A birthday is inconvenient, she claims, though you only laugh.

You tell her about Virgil – she knows you love him, she knows you love most things to do with him – and his famous quote. “Labor omnia vincit,” you say, finding it ironic that you are only able to talk to her right now because you skipped out on soundcheck and a run-through with the backup dancers. “Work conquers all. It reminds me of you.”

Her lilting Spanish laughter fades as she actually thinks about it.

“Es verdad,” Alexia replies, and you are glad to understand. “Quiero ser la mejor del mundo así que ‘labor omnia vincit’.”

“You’re speaking Latin with a Spanish accent.”

“You love my accent.”

You smile. It’s true.

…

It hasn’t settled in Alexia’s mind that you, who calls her whenever you can because you miss her opinions and her jokes and the face that you can picture when she speaks, are the same person as the one she sees on Jenni’s phone as the team crowds round the screen to watch a viral video from your concert last night.

“A birthday present for you, eh, Ale?” Jenni jests, clinging on to Alexia’s admission months ago about her crush on you. She doesn’t know about the reality of it all. No one does, as of yet.

“Who puts them in these outfits?” asks Leila, mildly outraged at the bedazzled lingerie you’d been dressed in. “There’s nothing to them! They might as well go on stage naked.”

“It’s fine. They get hot while they’re performing anyway,” Alexia dismisses, not wanting to delve into your issues with your stylist. Well. Her issues with your stylist, who seems to not care about dignity or have any faith in the world’s imagination. (That, and Alexia is not sure she likes this idea of sharing, though she is aware that nothing defines you as hers.)

“Oh, did they tell you that themselves?” She glares at Jenni, and shoulders her way out of the huddle. It’s not Jenni’s fault that her mood has been easily soured, because tomorrow is Alexia’s birthday and then, the next day, she has to get to Madrid for her national camp. The Euros later this year is going to be in the Netherlands, and her dreams for her country are currently far-fetched. It hurts, and you’re well aware of her misery.

In fact, you are so aware that you are on a flight from Oslo on the fourth of February. It’s too special a day to miss. You have once again abandoned soundcheck.

Alexia receives a text as she slides into her mother’s old car, considering flinging the device out of the window at one of her teammates’ heads after they sang to her at training without the mercy of letting her forget that she is one year closer to the end of her career. At this rate, the career will be full of wasted potential. She is in a terrible mood about it.

And then she looks at her phone.

You have really tried to up your game with the Spanish of late, enlisting the help of a private tutor who Skypes you twice a week with new phrases and grammar that mildly resembles that of a dead language you carry more than a passion for.

You: Estoy aquí!

The only thing she can think to do is slam her index finger on the call button of your contact, nail bending painfully on the glass of the screen.

Your instructions are clear: “Airport. Now.”

She drives.

She drives at an embarrassingly desperate speed, because just over a week is too long a separation and her day has been awful and there is something so magnetic about your presence that she would be going against nature to do anything other than find you. Obviously, find you she does: right in the arrivals lounge, same black hoodie as always disguising your identity. It’s not any busier than usual, and you catch sight of her the minute she pushes her way to the front of the crowd of expectant faces.

With a weary grin, you walk towards her, and she knows that this game is only temporary. There will be privacy close by, and you can speak then.

She turns with a nod, and you follow as she takes the usual route, but suddenly there are fingers intertwined with her own and you are stopping her in front of everyone.

“Feliz cumpleaños,” you say with a pronounced failure and a hilariously concentrated expression. Alexia giggles, and the storm cloud above her dissipates, but the kiss she wants to press to your lips will have to wait. There’s somewhere empty just around the corner, and she tugs your hand to get you to come with her – to match the same haste she has – but you don’t. “Al coche. So we can go to your casa.”

Her eyebrows raise.

“It’s your birthday,” you explain, stepping towards her so that the people around you see a couple instead of two women walking in a vague direction. Alexia swallows, body tingling at your proximity. Her body always tingles when you stand near her like this. “It’s your birthday, so I am here for the night. My flight is tomorrow.”

She understands you entirely.

She all but drags you to her car.

Alexia does not even remember what it’s like to be miserable. She is set alight by your presence, by your lips, your hands, your soft greeting that you whisper in her ear when she pulls away to drive you to her flat. It’s a new place, and she is free from the fuss of her mother.

You smile when she pulls you out, taking your bulging handbag in one hand and grasping yours with the other, and she kisses that smile as she presses you against the mirror in the lift. The bag hits the floor with a thud, your overnight things spilling out because of her carelessness, but you pay the rolling Dior lipstick no mind, too caught up in the way her tongue swirls in your mouth. How her hands grip your waist.

She’s stronger than last time. She gets stronger every day: she is going to be the best footballer in the world. She is dedicated to her sport.

Your palms travel up the back of her t-shirt, cold from the metal you’d previously had them pressed against. Alexia flinches as your fingers brush a particular spot, the skin there slightly raised.

“¿Que pasó?” you ask, head tilted to the side as she draws back, panting. “Are you hurt?”

She examines your eyes. Deeply inquisitive. Full of something that may resemble love in the future.

Alexia smiles – an expression that she wears mostly when she is thinking about you. You watch as she turns around, the lift jerking to a halt as if to hurry up her slow movements. As she lifts up her t-shirt, you eye the tattoos you are aware decorate her back. There are going to be more someday, she has always been clear about that.

And, oh.

You’re not usually so attached. Alexia, it’s apparent, is a complete exception.

She asks you if you like it. You lean forward, and kiss the four words (she must have researched the quote, because you excluded the last when you mentioned it), tongue running over the redness as if you are going to heal the irritation. She moans quietly, more surprised than anything else.

“Do I get the credit for it?” She shakes her head, which you catch in the mirror opposite, and, before you can voice your protest, she is facing the right way again and kissing you as she leads you to her door. “You know, there’s another quote from him that I much prefer to that one. ‘Labor omnia vincit improbus’ is… Do you know the word workaholic?” Again, her head shakes. She backs you against the wall next to her door, lips attached to your neck as you keen under her touch.

She slots her leg between yours, and you forget your next sentence.

It’s a heated kiss. It promises tonight’s activities to you, and you cannot wait for her to unlock her door.

Your lips run along her neck as she jams her key into the lock. You suck and bite, spurred on by the moans she bites back with a clenched jaw. You find it sexy: her determination to get you inside. And it’s her birthday, after all. She deserves it. You have another gift for her in your bag, but she is grateful for this anyway.

“Inside,” she gasps as you smooth your tongue over the newly-created hickey you just gave her, kicking her door wide open and hauling you through the gap.

The flat is pitch black, but Alexia knows it well enough to chuck your bag towards the dining table and have you on your way to the bedroom without needing to switch any lights on. But your hands wander, and she gets distracted. She stops you in the middle of the flat, only half a second into your journey, and her life feels so full (especially when you moan like that). The room feels so full.

The room is full.

The room is…

“Moltes felicitats, moltes felici–” sings (and abruptly stops) a whole choir of Alexia’s friends and family, the lights switching to bathe the two of you in total mortification.

Alba’s hand covers the eyes of her cousin’s six-year-old, whose mouth has formed a perfect circle.

Silence washes over what looks to be a surprise birthday party. One which Alexia was assured yesterday was not going to happen. By multiple guilty attendees!

Alexia looks helplessly between you, her mother, and the shit-eating grin on Jenni Hermoso’s face, remembering herself promptly when Eli’s eyes drop to the placement of her hands on your bum. She almost jumps away from you.

“Fuck off,” you mutter under your breath, stewing in the terribly awkward silence as Alexia’s eyes only grow wider and wider. “Alexia.”

She breaks from her frozen state, thawed by the husk of your voice.

“Jo…”

The crowd explodes, and you let the tsunami of Catalan wash over your ears. There is so much noise, and so many people, and you can only watch as Alexia tries to answer all of their questions. She shakes her head, nodding at the same time, switching between two different languages to cover the shrieks from Jenni and the absolute bollocking her mother is giving her in front of everyone about dignity and respect. You are famous, says Eli, and you do not need Alexia’s horny motives to embarass you like that.

“She’s a celebrity,” Eli chides with a glare at her daughter, eyes softening as you continue to stare at the sea of faces blankly. You are backed against a wall with nowhere to run. “Alexia, introduce us to your girlfriend. Now.”

“You guys don’t need to be introduced to her!” Alexia replies like a petulant child, nearly crossing her arms and stamping her foot. “You know her name, and you’ve seen her. So you should all leave, really. Mami, I told you I didn’t want a party.”

Eli’s hands fly from her body to halt the departure of the guests as they catch on to how unwanted they are. “No, we are still going to have this party,” she insists. It’s the final decision. “So, go on. Introduce us.” It’s definitely not a question.

You clear your throat, wanting to save Alexia somehow. “Hola,” you begin, and every face breaks out into a beaming grin. “Um. Soy Y/n. Y… soy de Inglaterra?”

“Sí,” Eli says with a swell of encouragement that you can feel from two metres away.

“Alexia,” you plead.

“Guys, this is Y/n. She doesn’t speak Spanish, and she definitely does not speak Catalan, so either you practise your English or we cut the cake Mami has made and then you–”

“I am a big fan!” Jenni squeals, accented words loud and piercing as she surges towards you, sparking the movement of the entire body of people. No one listens to the rest of Alexia’s declaration.

…

There is a reason you are so well-liked, Alexia determines. She can see it as you interact with her family and closest friends. You smile and you listen and you remember things about people that they would deem insignificant. And it helps that you look breath-taking while doing it all.

Sitting at her dining table, Alba on one side, her mother on the other, she watches you flit around her flat with a talent for socialising, charming every person you speak to.

“She doesn’t know how you feel, does she?” Eli comments, noticing the hesitation in her daughter’s expression.

“I don’t know how she feels,” is what Alexia replies, because there is no way you can ignore the emotion she pours into your conversations. It exceeds that of a simple crush or hormone-fuelled desire. “She is incredible. I am me.”

“You are Alexia Putellas.”

“And she at least likes the way you kiss her,” Alba chimes in, her contribution unnecessary but making Alexia blush at the memory. The fact that her entire family saw that, most of them knowing where you were heading, is something she might be tossing and turning about at night for a while yet.

“Your father would love her.”

“I think so too,” Alexia says, chin resting on her palm as the world melts away, your eyes briefly meeting with hers as one of the children giggles at the face you have just pulled behind their mother’s back. A pang of disappointment reverberates in her chest as she grieves momentarily over the loss of her favourite person on Earth, wishing he could have shared the traumatic experience of today. He would’ve laughed so hard at her face when the lights went on.

“She seems lovely, really. Very polite. Is it because she’s English?”

“She is very…”

“I suppose the Latin came from her?” Alba asks with a smirk, prodding the fresh tattoo over the thin material of Alexia’s t-shirt, grinning as her sister hisses in pain.

“Next time, we can go somewhere quieter and talk properly. I know that you’ll be busy when tonight is over.”

Both Alexia and Alba shudder. “Mami!” her little sister groans, suppressing her gag.

“Sex is nothing to be ashamed of, Alba.”

“Never say ‘sex’ in front of me again,” Alexia tells her smug mother.

“Well, never get so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice the balloons taped to your flat number.”

Alexia bolts outside to check, and hates herself when she sees them.

…

“Dance with me!”

You grab Alexia’s hand, pulling her towards you. The party has lasted longer than she’s happy with, and you have seemingly forgotten about what you could be doing. You love to dance. You love music.

The little boy who’d been your partner up until now sticks his tongue out at Alexia, and she reciprocates the gesture. She is the birthday girl, after all.

You don’t understand a word of the music, but the beat flows through your hips as you move them against her. She runs her hands up and down your sides, your tank top now the only layer between your skin and her impatient fingers, hoodie having been stripped off the minute the party became interesting.

“My mother likes you,” Alexia whispers into your ear as you sway in time to the rhythm. Her lips brush your ear lobe, and you shiver despite the growing heat between you.

“This was very much a surprise,” you giggle in response, possibly answering wrong because her Spanish didn’t quite catch.

“Mhm.”

“I can’t wait for them to leave.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “You are not having fun?”

“I am,” you reply with a nod, a smirk slowly creeping into your content expression. She holds her breath, reminding herself of the presence of her family as you grind into her. “But I also can’t wait to fuck you.”

Alexia shudders.

“I will tell them to go.”

They cut the cake.

They sing again, completing the lyrics this time. You are even taught them before-hand, pushed out to the side of the crowd, very much silently told that you currently hold no place in Alexia’s life in comparison to these people. They all love her. You aren’t there yet.

But, she values your presence.

Alexia doesn’t care much about the people here tonight. She sees them almost every day, and she knows they are constants. What she does care about is you.

You, in that tank top. You, with your hair down, face fresh even though your day must have been exhausting. You, with a red mark on your collarbone that no one knows how to point out to you in English.

Soon, everyone is gone, and you are panting underneath her. Her lips capture yours, muffling the groan that comes with the movement of her fingers inside you. Your legs wrap around her body tighter, heels digging into her back.

Her hair falls around you; encapsulating you, surrounding you with only her. Her smell, her taste, her fingers.

You moan as her determination to destroy you becomes apparent. She hits every spot that has been neglected for the past few months, and though it is the first time the two of you are doing this, it’s as if Alexia has studied your body for years already.

She breaks apart from you as you come, your back arching off the mattress, chest pressing against hers. She wants to see your face for the first time. If she had a camera, she would have used it. You look beautiful.

Nothing on Earth compares to the cliff you have just been pushed off, and it is as if you are falling for eternity.

She goes again, and again, and again. She’s an athlete.

She ruins you, but her strong arms hold you together afterwards.

You fall asleep, for the first time in a while, with someone by your side. Whose hands find purchase on her favourite part of you, pulling you on top of her as she whines at your own tired attempt to make her feel good. Alexia whispers that she has been given enough, that she doesn’t need it, and she thinks you fall asleep to the sound of her incomprehensible, breathy Spanish. You cling to her.

…

The tour ends.

You couldn’t be happier. The final show is a blessing, and the tears in your eyes are of joy. You, Gio, and Anya are going home at last.

However, the well-decorated flat you walk into lacks everything possible, because there is no Alexia standing in the middle of the living room. She can’t be here, though you wish things were different. The season has been successful for her so far, and she is busy.

You really miss her. One night wasn’t enough. It will never be enough, and you are starting to realise the gravity of your blushes.

You like Alexia, and you have fallen hard and fast.

“You’re not coming back with us,” your brother says knowingly, skiing beside you down the picturesque blue run in Les Gets. You have come here every year since you were eight. April is a little later than usual, and the snow often turns to slush towards the afternoon – though one could argue that is simply a cue to move onto apres-ski – but it is pleasant to be on holiday with your family. People try to bother you, but it is easier to pretend you don’t see their waves when you have your ski goggles pulled over your eyes.

Your brother coughs, not pleased that you are ignoring him, reducing him to ‘everyone else’. (His ego, far too preened, far too large, cannot handle the idea of that.)

In front of the two of you, your father turns with precision and great technique. You can’t relate: you’re drunk. You have been since this morning.

“Sorry?” Your innocence is pretence and he rolls his eyes behind his Oakleys.

“Your flight. I saw it was booked to take you somewhere else. Somewhere you’ve been going a lot.”

“You’re not subtle.”

“You’re not subtle,” he replies, skis dangerously close to yours. You have to swerve, sending you onto the off-piste section of the run much to your irritation. With the excuse of tackling the jumps, however, you are lucky to evade further questioning, watching as he glides off into the distance, reaching the banner and skidding to a halt to wait for you and your mother. Your mother prefers to drink more than ski. She is always holding up the rear.

When you return to the chalet, bought by your parents a decade ago to solidify their roots in Les Gets, your brother seems to have remembered your conversation from earlier. Your parents have gone out for dinner, leaving the two of you to make something for yourselves. He is glad to have you alone.

“You don’t like lads, do you?” And, in truth, it’s an insightful question by his standards. He cares; he just does not know how to show it.

Pausing the construction of your sandwich for a moment, you allow him to see you for who you are. He’s your brother, after all. “Not at all,” comes your response.

He hums. “Thought so. You’d have gone out with half of England’s football team otherwise. God knows that they don’t mind.”

“England has a women’s team.”

“Gross.” His lips purse as he thinks about his little sister’s love life, and he decides that he would like to know more about Barcelona. “Are you buying a villa?”

“What?”

“Well, you go to Barcelona a lot. Are you buying a villa with the girls? Is that what celebrities do?”

You roll your eyes. “Mum and Dad buy villas. It isn’t just celebrities who splurge on property.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

“I wish you’d never become a lawyer.”

He laughs – hearty and deep. His laugh reminds you of dark forests for some reason; tall trees that dwarf your body, but keep you safe nonetheless. “I wish you’d never gotten famous. My life would be so much quieter if half my mates weren’t trying to squeeze something or other out of my connections.” His pride is profound in his misery, and you smile, blushing. “You’re not buying a villa.”

“Well done, genius,” you taunt, assembling your sandwich once again in hopes that the baguette will kill the buzz in your mind. You can’t really think when you’re drunk, and, recently, when there is nothing else to occupy you, your mind wanders to Alexia. What is she doing now? Does she miss you? Is she excited to see you in three days?

It dawns upon his face with an amusing animation. “You’re seeing someone,” he accuses.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “She’d be one lucky girl.”

“One unlucky girl, you mean. I’d better find out who she is and tell her to run for the hills. You’re about two decades overdue for an exorcism, and it shows.” He swiftly appears behind you, despite his lumbering limbs, and flicks your ear as your teeth sink into your dinner. You squeal, pushing backwards to get him away from you. “What’s her name? Who is she? What does she do?”

“She is… classified.”

He reaches for his phone. “I’m going to find a list of Spanish names and see which one turns you into a tomato.”

“She’s still classified.” You prod your index finger into his shoulder.

“Hey.” You retract your finger, surprised by the tenderness of his tone. “You can tell me, you know. You’re my little sister. I really don’t give enough of a fuck to spread it.”

With great shame, you absolutely do not need to be told twice to talk about your favourite Spanish woman on the planet at the moment. He actually has to beg you to stop.

…

Things with Alexia are good.

Not just in terms of your relationship, but in general, too. Walks are more enjoyable, and so are mornings, afternoons, evenings. She likes that you feel comfortable to chill in her flat while she goes to training. She likes that she comes home to you. She likes that you spend your days with a pencil between your teeth, a blank page set out in front of you.

Now that the tour is over, it is clear what comes next. The new album will be the best ever made, you have decided, because you might finally understand the lyrics that you sing. They could resonate.

They will resonate.

Alexia asks you to be her girlfriend when she drops you off at the airport. Your plane is private and she can kiss you goodbye when you agree.

You love being Alexia’s girlfriend. You repeat your new identity over and over as you fly back to London, and it is a mantra that plays on loop in your mind as you get on with life back home.

The girls tease you mercilessly when you spill it. All three of you are on the balcony, though this time there is a joint placed between your fingers rather than a cigarette. Slightly high, more so giddy about Alexia, you confess. They’re happy for you, but Gio can’t help but text Anya later that night.

Gio: Have you seen the new plan?

Anya: What plan?

Gio is sitting upright in her bed, ensuring that her panic is quiet so her new boyfriend does not wake up. Her fingers hover over the keys shamefully, but she has to tell someone and it can’t be you.

Gio: The publicity plan.

It’s at your studio session the next day when all comes to light. Your manager/publicist appears, which is honestly quite rare. She’s not fond of the claustrophobia of the small room, nor the darkness it becomes shrouded in when you, Gio, and Anya are trying not to murder each other.

Dave swivels around on his chair, bored with the bickering. You aren’t sure about a lyric, but they disagree, even if Anya knows you have a better point than the third member of your group.

Your manager clears her throat. “Y/n, may I speak with you? It’s quite important.”

“Do this lyric without me,” you grit out to Gio.

“It’s your solo.”

“I don’t care.”

With that, you follow your manager into the corridor.

They hear your protests from the studio, the shout of frustration piercing through the small gap underneath the door, overcoming the supposedly impregnable sound-proofing.

There are tears streaming down your face upon your return. Fuck her, and fuck him.

Anya and Gio can’t look at you. Their chins dip to their chest as they slump in place, succumbing to the predetermined guilt they discovered last night.

“It’s not fair,” you cry to them as they refuse to turn around, throwing yourself onto the sofa with a heaving sob. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair. She’s going to hate me — she’s not going to love me anymore, and I… I love her.”

Anya’s mouth opens with a sob of her own. She had thought Alexia was a dalliance. She hadn’t realised.

It’s fun to have someone, she knows, but it is painful to love them.

You are clearly not enjoying yourself now.

“You love her?” she asks, though she is sure of the answer as another gasp leaves your body with a chilling desperation.

“Yes, I fucking love her. It was obvious.”

“But you—”

“Because I’m not out!”

“So what did she tell you?”

“They want it to last a few months. Enough to draw the attention away from my aversion to men and his relationship with some blogger.”

Anya gulps. A few months is a lot to endure, especially for the footballer whose heart you’ll be breaking. “You’ve said no, right?” she tries, paling as she grips onto the mic stand, trying in vain to remember the harmony she is supposed to sing. “You’ve told them… You’re you, of course you’ve said no!”

“Of course,” Gio adds, equally in denial.

You can only shake your head.

You were not given a choice.

Telling Alexia is hard, and not just because of the tears running through your words as you try to get them out over the phone.

In Barcelona, her head hangs in disappointment. She is never going to be good enough for you, she tells herself. The world will soon slot you by the side of another celebrity, and you will be pictured together as many times as humanly possible. No one will know that she is the one you call when you need to talk to someone, or that it is her rose that is pressed between your favourite copy of Little Women, saved from Sant Jordi. No one will be any the wiser to the girlfriend you keep in Spain, nor assume that you are visiting the country for a reason other than tourism and partying with your favourite foreign men’s football team.

It goes like this for months.

It sours the second- place finish in the league even more; makes the Champions League semi-final exit soul-destroying; and completely ruins her joy about winning the Copa de la Reina (worsened by a picture of you and him released the morning of the final).

She is still your girlfriend, but she is always one step behind you. She is in the shadows of the crowd when you sell out Wembley for the first time, and is just out of frame in the picture captured backstage of you and your lover embracing. His muscles do not feel the same as Alexia’s, but he becomes a friend, you guess. He isn’t fond of the arrangement either.

Then, when Alexia feels as though she might explode from the jealousy she harbours, she is tested once more as you go radio silent for a day. It’s unbearable. You usually text her every hour.

She misses hearing you greet her with ‘I took a smoke break’. She misses the taste of your lips, and the heat of your breath, and the swell of emotion you cause inside of her when you show her that you really care.

It’s a hard day. The Euros have started, and Spain has won their first two group stage matches. Vilda is terrible as usual, but it is nothing in comparison to the cavity left in her chest where you have carved out your notifications. Alexia has never wished to be distracted from football before, but today is clearly Judgement Day.

“Is this about your girlfriend?” Jenni pesters, mocking Alexia’s frown by exaggerating it on her own face. “She’s not pinging your phone every five minutes and now you’re inconsolable.”

“I have many things to be upset about,” Alexia replies moodily, though Vilda’s earlier berating has had no effect on her mood because it simply cannot get worse. “Our coach is shit, and we don’t get treated like England or Holland does.”

“And your girlfriend hasn’t texted you.”

“Yes, Jenni. She hasn’t texted me.”

She sighs.

Jenni is repulsed by the fire in Alexia’s belly seemingly having been put out. Her grimace is noticeable as she bends down to unlace her boots, glancing around the shoddy locker room, imagining what Alexia claims a few of the other teams have.

“Maybe she’s busy. She is, like, famous. She could be out for lunch with Shakira!”

“No, that was last month.”

Jenni pauses for a moment, awestruck at her friend's seriousness, before collecting herself and trying another approach. “Why don’t we do some shooting practice while you wait for her to call? That way, Spain gets more goals, and you’re…”

She doesn’t get to finish, cut off by the alarming brrrp of Alexia’s phone. Her friend saddens at the volume, pitying Alexia for how loud she has turned her ringer up just in case she had been missing your notification all along.

Alexia swipes her phone up from the bench, and hurries into the toilets.

Throughout the five months you have been dating, Alexia has become increasingly more aware of your intense reactions to emotional situations. You feel when you feel. She admires you for your work ethic, as you do her, because you fly from Barcelona to London and back again, all while writing songs, humming melodies, and holding together your high-profile life. Unfortunately, your determination and tendency to give everything and more has bled into every aspect of your life. And you are a wreck when she finally gets a word out of you.

“Tranquila, cariño,” she tries as you suck in a pathetically shallow breath. She knows exactly how many kilometres away from her you are, and she wishes she could sprint the distance. “Tranquila. What has happened?”

“I… I fired her.”

“Who?”

“My manager.” Alexia’s hand balls into a fist and she quietly celebrates. Well, until you sob again. “I mean, we all fired her. But now we have no manager and Dave is concerned about the structure of our group and the album sucks and it’s shit and HE tried to kiss me yesterday, even though he’s got a girlfriend too!”

“Búa, más slower, por favor. I’m not inglesa!”

Life, even if you are upset right now, starts to look up. You even get to spend a month with her, practising your Spanish (mejor-ing your nivel de español), meeting her family in a more appropriate context, and even watching the first match of the 2017-2018 season. Which Alexia is adamant they will win.

…

She proposes in November; a year after you kissed.

It’s not a hard decision to make. Not when you have built IKEA furniture together, and spent a week in Menorca with her, her mother, and her sister. Not when her English is littered with your vocabulary and references to Virgil and the like, and your family can all shout at you in Spanish because they’ve heard her do it so many times. Not when ‘I love you’ is the easiest sentence she’s ever said. Every minute of her life that she gives you is like exchanging part of her soul for pure, complete bliss.

You’re fucking freezing, and befuddled at the fact that Alexia has requested to take a walk in the park near your flat. Your Spanish girlfriend, the same woman who finds summer too temperate in England, has somehow turned into a snow-lover, even if there is only damp grass and a biting wind. Alexia wishes England had white Christmases, but it’s a myth, she has discovered.

The ring sits in her coat pocket. She chose it with Alba before she left the warmer climate of Barcelona, and her sister did not ask her whether she was rushing into things. It’s not too soon; if anything, she should’ve asked a year ago.

“Fuck me, it’s cold,” you groan as you shiver. She takes your hand, her woollen gloves itchy against your bare skin, but it warms you up. “We could be inside, in bed. There’s a new series we could start, or, I don’t know, don’t you have some football game to watch?”

“I hate watching football with you.”

You part your lips to respond, but she is not lying and she has said it before. Some bullshit about you supporting all the wrong teams.

“Well, I hate it when you drag me out into the freezing cold for no reason. If you want a dog to bring on walks, just say so. We can go to Battersea before you leave tomorrow.”

“Don’t,” she murmurs, halting you both near the inky water of the lake you have been circling for the past five minutes. It sucks that her visits are temporary, even if you are technically moved into each other’s homes (she has your keys, you have hers). With the remaining time left before her flight tomorrow at noon, she has worked up the courage to do it now.

It’s like scoring a goal: receive the pass; dribble; gear up for it; shoot.

“What’s wrong?”

Her free hand reaches into her pocket. “Nada.”

“No, you’re acting weird…” You blink a few times as if to adjust better to the dim light coming from the distant lampposts. A plop sounds from the water, and she jumps. She’s on edge.

“No.”

“Yes. Jesus, you haven’t decided to break up with me in the middle of a park at night, have you?” Your question packs an unnerved insecurity, and she feels a little guilty about the suspense. She fiddles with the ring in her pocket, and then she takes a deep breath. “Hey,” you try tenderly. “Seriously, Ale, what’s wrong?”

“Te lo dije. Nothing.”

“So what’s in your pocket?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

She sighs, “here,” and she grabs your hand to press it into the soft warmth inside. And there’s a piece of metal, heated by her fingers. With a chunk of rock on top of it. It feels like an engagement ring. You’re probably not getting broken up with tonight.

“Are you proposing?”

“Are you saying yes?”

“Yes.”

“Hòstia.” She frowns, and you consider pushing her into the lake. “I am going to say it now.”

“But you already—”

A quick display of her athleticism, for the muscles exist despite being buried underneath all those layers, and she is down on one knee. Her joggers will have wet patches, and she hates the squelch of the mud beneath her, but she has a perfect view of your surprise. Your tears.

“Bueno. Your brother helped me to… write the speech,” she starts, and her rehearsal is adorable. Although, honestly, you don’t hear what she has to say because you have already made up your mind.

You tell her yes in as many languages as you can.

And she thanks you with breathy moans into your mouth as you guide her towards a bench, and then your flat, and finally your bed.

When you are finished, well into the early hours of the morning she will have to leave, you climb out of bed, missing the firm grip of her toned arms the minute you’re out of it. There is a burning, overwhelming sureness inside of you that you can’t escape. You know it is soon – probably too soon for most – but there is a person out there for everyone, and yours is right in your bed.

Your guitar, slightly dusty from the neglect because of your frequent visits to Barcelona, rumbles when you pluck it from its stand, collapsing into the armchair beside your bed with a groan, feeling the ache of your muscles that only affirm just how good a time you’ve had with your fiancée.

You don’t play anything interesting, but the noise is enough to rouse Alexia from her heavy slumber. She lifts her head from where it has been buried within the silk pillows of your bed, and watches as your fingers pluck the nylon strings with vague allusion to one of your older songs. The weight of her ring – your engagement ring – does not seem to affect your playing: in fact, Alexia realises your hand was naked without it. You hum, fingers beginning to itch for a cigarette the minute the guitar starts to bore you, and she clears her throat.

Her grin is self-satisfied and certain. “Me voy a casar contigo,” she says into the dark stillness of your bedroom.

“I love you,” you reply.

…

Being engaged is fun.

Like, really fun.

You stay in Barcelona in December, hiding from the bitter chill of England. No one questions it, and the absence of a manager grants you so much freedom. The girls pop to the city one weekend to brainstorm a song, but, other than that, you are content to forget your own identity and become Alexia’s fiancée, one of the regulars at the increasingly more popular Barça Femení games (only the team know you’re there, able to see through the caps and sunglasses).

There are still rumours circulating about you and him, though their credibility has lessened ever since he revealed himself to have been in LA for a while. To the world, you’re sort of MIA. They catch you occasionally when you return to London for photoshoots or just to chat with your friends and family, but they get nothing more. Your Instagram posts are few and far between, and the most recent paparazzi picture is of you leaving Gio’s house to buy her a pregnancy test.

When the test is positive, something is tweaked inside of you, and you return to Barcelona – a place that is now your home too – carrying a lead-ish guilt.

Alexia loves her football, and Alexia is obsessed with her career. You are too, but you have done what you can, really. The BRIT nominees will be announced tomorrow, and you know that you and the girls are on that list. You have your fame, you have your money. But Alexia has neither, and she should. Especially when her male counterparts are raised high and mighty on large, golden platforms.

You know just how ambitious she is, and that is why you lack surprise when you enter her flat to find her hunched over her iPad at the dining table, replaying the same twenty-second clip over and over until she has identified every single fault and created a plan to correct them.

She barely registers your presence, but you don’t mind how absorbed she is in her footage. It is nice to make the ever-composed Alexia jump when you slink up behind her, pressing your lips against her neck. She dissolves herself in the fuzzy feeling you give her.

“Hola,” she says, regaining control when she spots another mistake, grasping her pen tightly as she scribbles down Spanish words you can’t be bothered to read.

“Hola,” you reciprocate, though you are a lot more enthusiastic about it. “Tengo una pregunta.”

“Oh no.” You wrap your arms around her shoulders, and she relaxes. Your ring reflects the light from her screen as if to remind her that you are hers, and that softens her previous sternness slightly. Another kiss to the skin behind her ear, and she is more open to talk.

Clicking your tongue, you think of where to start. “Okay, first, I have news.”

“About Gio? Is she okay?”

“She’s… pregnant.” The emergency you were recalled to London for was actually a pleasant surprise for her and her boyfriend. You’re unsure about how committed they are to each other, and whether a baby is a great idea, but you held your tongue when Anya shook her head at you.

“Uf. Pobrecita, ¿no? She loves tequila.”

“She does love tequila,” you agree with a chuckle. You extend your hand slightly and press pause on the footage. Alexia pushes back against you. Her chair scrapes against the wooden floorboards, but there is a gap between her and the table now. She motions for you to sit in her lap.

She tilts your chin up and kisses you gently: a welcome home kiss. “¿Qué pasa, mi amor?”

“What would you do if I told you that I was pregnant tomorrow?”

“I would ask you if you have been cheating on me with a man,” she replies instantly. You laugh, head falling forwards, resting on her shoulder. She runs her hands up your sides, fingers firm, thighs tensing underneath you.

“But hypothetically. If it were possible,” you continue, a smirk working its way onto your lips, guilt forgotten. You may have spent your plane journey scrolling through pictures of Alexia with the various babies in your life. It was a self-indulgent act, and it has very much led you to now.

Her eyebrows furrow with the adorable crinkle in between them, and she is seriously trying to work out if she is missing something. You go to London, you come back, you want a baby?

But she loves you. And she is very intrigued.

“Is it mine?”

“Yes, it’s yours.”

She watches the smirk on your face blossom into a smile, and she feels a matching one tug her lips upwards. “Is it going to support España or England?” The latter is pronounced in your accent, and you make a mental note to ask Jenni if she has been doing impressions of you to her teammates.

“It can choose when it’s older,” you say, waving off her stupid football question. Since dating her, your interest in football has decreased. She has sort of put you off. You only really watch it to watch her now, or when United are playing an interesting game and your father is antsy enough to text you every minute.

“No, it can’t.” You blink. She pulls you into her. “It chooses now. Spain or England, and Manchester United or Barcelona. There are right answers.”

“Manches–”

“Wrong! I think I will have to make sure the baby is not brainwashed.”

You panic for a moment. “Wait, you do know I’m not really pregnant, right?!”

Alexia is not the most ready for children, but she is always prepared to give you everything you want. “If you want a baby, mi amor, let’s make a baby. Sin chicos.” You giggle coyly as she hoists you up – the display of strength exuding an unbearably sexy cockiness. “And after,” she says in between kisses as she stands, “we can look on the Internet for options.”

“¡Vamos!”

…

The Barcelona women’s team congas its way back into the Home team changing room of the Joan Gamper, following a 7-0 win. Alexia kicked off the goal-laden game in the sixth minute, and she is on cloud nine. Victory is the sweetest taste in her mouth, and one where she knows you are watching is even better.

Mapi flicks her shoulder as they dance to the music bursting from someone or other’s speaker. “You’re so happy,” she says, her grin wide and eyes shining. They dance topless, most of them, but Alexia has subtly been rushing to get dressed and find you. Barcelona is a beautiful city, and she has promised that you can take her to dinner somewhere now that your morning sickness has subsided and only started to affect you when it is supposed to.

“We just won,” she explains over the shouts of joy from her teammates.

María León joined from Atleti this season, but she has known Alexia longer than that, and she can tell when there is something more to football in her emotions. Though it is a well-kept secret, Alexia has two obsessions, and you are one of them.

“Yo sé. But you have been very happy recently, in general. Except, you don’t come out for team nights or hang back to practise more after training, so it is definitely to do with Y/n.” Alexia’s absence in her teammates’ lives is actually unusual, seeing as you are very encouraging and a firm believer in the ‘work hard, play hard’ mentality. Your urging is what sends Alexia to bars and clubs with the girls, though she has neglected all of these outings ever since you showed her your positive pregnancy test (best belated birthday present ever). “So… what’s going on?”

“You’re so nosy.”

“I’m interested. I love her, and I want to know how she has made it so that you haven’t had a bad day for the last three months, even when we lost to Bilbao. Is it sex? Does she suffer through–”

“No!” Alexia interjects, cheeks reddening. Mapi smirks at the twenty-four-year-old, proud to have embarrassed her. She still claims that she is not a prude. Her phone buzzes on the bench – you’re asking how long she is going to take.

Mapi swipes Alexia’s clean clothes from her grip, holding them behind her back as she giggles at her friend’s exasperation. “Tell me, or go outside like that.”

“Good thing it’s May,” Alexia shrugs, grabbing her phone and bag, knowing you won’t at all mind spending time with her in just her sports bra. She is pulled back by Mapi, who has hooked her finger into the waistband of Alexia’s shorts and yanked hard enough for them to have stretched.

“Ale, tell me.”

“No. You’re a gossip.”

“I’m not a gossip.”

“You so are.”

“Am not.”

“So it wasn’t you who told Leila about Patri’s crush when I made it clear that we weren’t even supposed to know?” Mapi shifts uncomfortably, letting go of the shorts. “And it definitely wasn’t you who let everyone find out about my engagement because you don’t know what an inside voice is?”

“Hey, you never specified that you were going to be sneaky about it!” she defends, as she has done ever since the entire canteen went silent in shock and then, two seconds later, broke out into a clamour of pleas to be bridesmaids and to get Bad Bunny invited to the wedding.

“It was implied,” Alexia shoots back with a glare.

“Fine. Be annoying. I’ll just ask Y/n.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. She’s got better things to do.”

“Ouch,” Leila says, patting Mapi on the back as she shoves her way into the conversation. The two are partners in crime, and Alexia hates that she is now outnumbered. “But tell us. Please, Ale.”

“We’ll even not nutmeg you for a week.” They love to try. It’s their highest priority mission.

“A month,” Alexia negotiates.

“Yes! Just tell us.”

“Y/n is pregnant.” Three months down the line is not necessarily when she wants to announce her personal business to the entirety of Spain, but you both know that it’s safe to tell people now.

Mapi laughs. “Ay, Alexia, you don’t have to lie to us.”

She looks at her friends blankly, having not expected this reaction. When she told her mother, the woman at least had it in her to take it seriously (albeit with quite the cautious ‘are you sure?’). “I’m not lying,” she then says, more to Leila than the giggling Mapi in front of her.

“You’re not…?” Leila tries, grappling with it. Two pairs of eyes drift down to Alexia’s crotch, squinting at the material as though some previously concealed appendage is going to jump out at them.

Alexia clears her throat.

“I’m sorry. How?!”

“The normal way most lesbians–”

“She’s, like, actually pregnant? Like, de verdad, she is pregnant?”

“Or she’s smuggling a lime under her shirt.” Her nod is small and she has the glimmer of a smile on her face despite Leila and Mapi’s gobsmacked expressions. Her phone buzzes: it’s you again. “And, if you two don’t mind, I don’t want to leave her waiting for me outside.”

“Because she’s…”

“Exactly.”

When she finally escapes the changing room, she climbs into her car. With heartbreak from both you and your dad, you have sold your i8 in favour of getting Alexia a Land Rover. Most of your money is in savings. You earn loads, but it is hard to find things you want to spend it on, and a lot of it goes towards private jets to get you to and from Alexia.

You are sitting in the passenger seat. “Jugaste bien,” you say as her hand moves up from its instinctive resting place on your thigh, settling on the growing swell of your stomach. “I’m so hungry. I could eat a horse.”

“A horse?”

“Or a house. Or, I don’t know, an entire cavalry. Feed me.” Her alarm — a mistranslation — causes her to almost run over the steward directing her out of the car park. “Tengo mucha hambre, Ale.” She nods with a roll of her eyes. She’s been warned about pregnant women.

…

In the bustling excitement of Estadi Johan Cruyff, which has slowly filled with more and more fans in the time you have known the plastic seats and improving pitch, you find yourself in the midst of an unexpected turn of events. With your due date approaching and Alexia’s insistence that you are surely made of glass, you have been forced to part from your sisters (Gio and Anya) and live in Barcelona. She wants the baby to be born here. You’ve negotiated that the next one will be had in London.

Alexia’s mother notices the deep breath you take in, well-acquainted with the horror on your face having worn that same expression twice before. ¿Estás bien?” she asks you, the steadiness of her voice comforting to the flurry inside your head.

The whistle blows and the game kicks off. This can’t be happening now.

It’s too early. There’s a… What are they called? Braxton-hicks?

“Sí,” you affirm with a curt nod. The not-contraction doesn’t hurt that much, you tell yourself. You settle in the seat and focus on the match in front of you, using the rhythm of the crowd’s cheers (it can now be called a crowd!) to keep you grounded. With a reassuring smile, Eli offers you her hand. You take it and try not to crush her metacarpals.

It’s definitely possible that you are in actual labour, considering the increasing intensity of your contractions, but you are not about to leave the match. Alexia would notice your absence. This game is important for her team – it’s the last before the Christmas break.

At halftime, Eli quietly reassesses you, tricking you into seeing the team’s medic when guiding you to the ‘toilet’. Already briefed on the situation, the medic asks you a few questions in accented English, much like that of your newly trilingual fiancée. “Don’t tell her,” you beg quietly through a huffed sigh, gladly taking the seat offered to you. “I’ll wait until it’s finished.”

“There is another hour left.”

Your ears burn and another contraction shoots through you. You shake your head, fending off the pain while you do so. “He can’t be a Barcelona fan,” you insist. Eli grins at the knowledge that her first grandchild will be a boy, but you do not see it, too focused on convincing the medic to keep the child’s other mother in the dark about what is currently happening in the Barcelona medical room. “I’ll wait.”

Eli hands you your phone per your request. You call Gio, whose daughter is only two months old. “Don’t tell me,” she starts when you fail to greet her. The sound of her voice, her accent, her tone is relieving, though you are incredibly grateful for the woman who continues to hold your hand as though you are her own daughter. “Nah, nah. Where are you? I’m gonna jump on a flight, alright? I’ll call Anya and we’ll be there soon.”

“Don’t… rush,” you groan.

“Babe, we are going to rush. Where are you?!”

“A match!” You try to remember the breathing exercises you learnt for this exact moment. “Her match. Second half’s only just started. She… She doesn’t know.”

Gio’s loud, boisterous laugh rings out, and you can tell that she is not at home. No one with a newborn baby can afford to make noise at that volume. “Fucking hell. Ever heard of sense?” You don’t respond, embarrassed that you are in too much pain to think of a comeback. “I’ve left Mia at my mum’s, so don’t you worry. Want me to bring anything from home? Cadbury’s, maybe?”

“One of those massive bars?”

“Yep, done deal.” She pauses. “Hey, babe, I’m gonna ring Anya now, alright? Call your mum – or your dad, if you two haven’t yet made up. I’ll see you soon. Tell Alexia her baby’s on the way!”

Your protests are cut off by the final beep of her hanging up, and your head drops back as another contraction, your body squeezed as though some giant rubber band has just snapped back into place. Eli stands up, worried now.

Before you can tell her that you are alright, a gush of water hits the sterile floor with an unnerving splatter. The prospect of having to care for another life suddenly becomes very real. “Tenemos que ir al hospital.”

“No.”

“Soy la abuela. Yo sé que hacer.” Even the medic, who has nervously stayed by your side, much more experienced with ACLs than broken waters (and stubborn pregnant women), looks intimidated by the firmness of Eli’s words. “Por favor”: she softens her blow.

You glance around the room, slowly descending into agony and helpless against the wrath of rationality from your fiancée’s mother. “How long’s left of the match? ¿Cuántos minutos quedan?”

The medic holds up all ten fingers. You grapple with your body, begging the baby to sit tight for a moment. “Let her finish. We can go when the whistle blows.”

Your contractions get closer together.

Eli’s frustration leads her to ask God for the baby to not have inherited your stubbornness. She also loves you more for it; admiring your insistence to keep Alexia from missing everything.

You don’t call your own mother. You simply type out a shaky text to the family group chat; blunt and to the point. ‘Baby. Now.’

Half of your universe storms the web, booking flights to Barcelona. Anya and Gio are almost at the airport already — a few steps ahead of your panicking parents and your brother, who has been enjoying dinner at the Savoy with his clients. Those who serve as your planets, revolving around you like you are the sun, do you a favour, letting Dave know that you probably won’t make it to the Skype call scheduled for tomorrow morning. Dave, in turn, now expanding into management, informs your newly-hired publicist (good riddance to the old one). The world has expected a pregnancy announcement ever since you failed to appear at your most recent awards show, despite winning in your category.

It's almost an eternity later that Alexia, football boots clacking against the floor, flings open the door of the medical room. Eli calls out, warning her daughter about slipping on the sizable puddle that has spread out beneath you.

Your fiancée is valiant in her attempt to mask her sheer panic.

“Have you called an ambulance?” she asks her mother, stepping over your amniotic fluid and placing her hand on your shoulder. You squint, trying to open your eyes though this contraction has been the most excruciating so far.

“We were waiting for you. She was adamant that you finished your match.”

“No football match is more important than her!” If you understood Catalan (and weren’t in labour), you’d have teased her for being a sap. “Call an ambulance, Jesus Christ. Look at her — she needs a doctor.” Her composure revisits her fleetingly, and she turns to the medic. “Thank you for looking after her.” There is no answer because it is drowned out by her barking more orders her mother’s way.

“No ambulance,” you declare before your mouth opens in a silent sob. “Drive me. Not an ambulance.”

The last glimpse the Estadi Johan Cruyff gets of Alexia Putellas in 2018 is her carrying you to her mother’s car, your face buried in her team-issued jacket in case anyone is waiting outside to take pictures of the players.

Eli drives; something she doesn’t like doing often but feels is necessary with the nervous bounce of her daughter’s legs in the backseat enough to convince her that they’d speed like the Flash if anyone else ended up behind the wheel. She knows Barcelona, can navigate it with her eyes closed, and you are at the hospital before you can begin to tell Alexia how much you think you can’t do this.

“I really fucking can’t do this!” you cry out, situated in the delivery room. Sweat rolls down the side of your face, already dampening your hair. Alexia thinks you look beautiful, and she has been made proud of the last two hours. You’ve also helped her a lot with English swearwords.

“You can.”

“I can’t.” You’re told to push again. “Alexia, you are having the… next… fucking… beach ball.” Each word is punctuated by a guttural moan.

Waves of intense pain contort your face in agony, and the midwife continues to talk you through your task as though instructing you how to park a car. “Estás haciendo muy bien, mi amor,” she tells you, ignoring the possibility that you may have rendered her left hand boneless.

“There’s a baby coming out of my vagina,” you shout, “don’t even try to test my Spanish, you twat.”

The midwife shoots your fiancée a pitiful look. “She’ll take it back,” she says in Catalan.

“She’s getting quite inventive.”

“There’s been worse.”

You can imagine the conversation taking place in the middle of you delivering her literal child. “No, I won’t! It’s breaking me in half.” You grip her hand harder. “Never. Again.”

But, with a final, visceral (and heavily encouraged) push, the room is filled with the sound of life. Nico comes into the world screaming at the top of his lungs. All Alexia can think to say is, “definitely yours.”

…

Life is a lot more tiring trying to juggle being a mother and a pop star.

The press have a field day when you announce the birth of your son with a simple Instagram post, your engagement ring second only to the swaddled lump on your chest. The caption (‘ours’) sparks debate on who exactly is the other parent. Well, father. Alexia’s teammates, while waiting to finally be allowed to meet your bundle, spend a good two months teasing her mercilessly about it. Most notably, Alexia almost loses La Reina to Papi.

2019 comes with change — a lot of it.

You hire a new manager so that Dave can focus fully on the last album 2sday will produce. The group has been together for six years, and you have made your millions.You seek neither money nor fame, but it comes knocking on the door of your quaint apartment in Barcelona anyway, along with a record deal only for you. A solo act.

Between Nico crying, Alexia playing football, and you trying to write songs that don’t end up criminally depressing, the contract on your dining table slowly becomes forgotten about. Alexia is too stressed about the impending World Cup to grant you a moment to breathe. You spend your days in Barcelona with a baby attached to your hip, the question of his parenthood still a mystery to the public, and, ever so slowly, you begin to resent your life.

It could be postpartum depression, but you have no time to really investigate the symptoms.

Alexia, two weeks before she needs to leave for her national camp and then the World Cup in France, comes home to an eerily silent apartment.

She calls out your name, wondering if you have perhaps gone to her mother’s house. The terrible sinking feeling comes with your reply. “Can we talk?” you ask.

She finds you perched on the Egyptian cotton sheets that cover your double bed. The sheets are out of place here, greatly exceeding the original budget of the decor, and, where Alexia sees this as you adding to her life, you feel you are somewhere you don’t belong. It is fine when she is next to you, holding your hand, claiming the other half of the now six-month-old baby boy gurgling in his carseat. When she isn’t there, though, the vacant space taunts you.

“I have no friends here,” you tell her quietly. The gravity of the mood settling over you pulls her onto the mattress, not caring if the sheen of sweat she wears as her outermost layer of clothing dirties the expensive creamy white beneath her. “I have no friends, I don’t speak the language, and I think that I have played at being a normal person for long enough. I mean, it’s great to watch you and to be there for you, but, darling, that’s not who I am. This,” you gesture to the loungewear you have on, stained with dribble, “is not who I am.”

Alexia hears what you are saying. She understands; she remembers the nights where you’d call her, a cigarette rasping your voice, sparkles shining in the valley between your breasts. She has seen this coming. It would be impossible not to notice the dimming of such a strong love between you: still present, yet slowly fading away.

“They want me to sign a new deal. Alone.” The suitcases lined up in the corner of the bedroom become glaringly obvious. Nico is in his carseat for a reason. “I think it would be good for me to go back to London. I need to feel like myself again, and my parents are willing to watch him. I sold my flat – I’ve bought a house in Highgate.” Tears sting your eyes as you speak, and you know where Alexia’s shoulder is without having to look, resting your head against it. “I love you. I love you so much, but I just can’t do this anymore.”

It’s as if the ground crumbles away beneath her. Your words hang above Alexia’s neck like an axe, waiting to execute her, waiting to end everything. She can’t look at Nico, whose face crumples at his mother’s clear heartbreak.

The world, once vibrant, lays in ruins. Her funny story from training dies on her tongue, and her question of whether you wanted to visit her mother before she left for camp disintegrates, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Do you still want to marry me?” she asks, and you hate the way her voice cracks with uncertainty. “Are you moving permanently?”

“I haven’t called anything off. It’s still going ahead as planned.” She senses the but. “But I… I can’t think here. I can’t be here. I want – I need – to go home.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

She is going to be at the World Cup anyway. You and her will always find your way back to each other. She is going to be busy.

She is going to be busy.

“Yeah. It’s okay. Take all the time you need.”

She is going to fall apart without you.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fc barcelona

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years

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comfort & chaos (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) chapter one: october 2019

summary: the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you: carmy, the recently promoted chef du cuisine at the best restaurant in the world, has no idea what he's in for when he accidentally spills his drink on the recently hired patissiere. (prequel to make my heart surrender)

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language. eventual smut.

word count: 4.5k

listen to: dover beach part 2 - baby queen | alaska - maggie rogers | less than i do - the band camino | 2 / 14 - the band camino

a/n: i'm back back back again! this is six part series will be a snapshot of carmy x reader's relationship in nyc that span across a three year period. i'm really looking forward to writing their friendship & so much repressed sexual tension it's not even funny. this is the first story i've published without it being almost or fully written so updates will maybe be more sporadic this time.

October 2019

“i was hoping somehow we'd end up together, outside, past midnight, and smoking cigarettes. the wallpaper inside my brain is decorated with your face. i'm lonely for you only, and i'm trying to convince you that i'm something you could love.” – dover beach (pt 2)

He hates you.

You’re absolutely sure of it.

You can see it in the way his body stiffens as you walk by – in the way he hasn’t stopped sending you long, piercing glares across the kitchen – in just how bright red his face turns when you catch him doing it.

And for what? For being excellent? For being good enough to get a job after staging that one night?

Fuck that, you think to yourself.

You find Carmen Berzatto infuriating, and it begins to dawn on you that you may have had one too many gin cocktails to stomach the fact that you have to be here tonight.

Here, at his promotion party.

Here, at this stupid fucking bar that you hate.

Here, because he’s sort of everyone’s boss now… and it’s something you’re just going to have to live with.

It hadn’t come as much of a surprise. There’d been talk of a leadership change (and Carmy filling the CDC position) when you had first started working here, but having a head’s up didn’t really help you now. You just hadn’t pictured having to go out for drinks to celebrate the man that seemed like he could barely stand being in the same room as you. But your friend Liz, one of the chef de parties at the restaurant, had insisted you come with, since she hadn’t wanted to go alone. You understood why you both had to go, so you’d invited your other best friend to help the both of you get through.

You thank your lucky stars that your direct report is the head pastry chef and not Carmy. Using your boss as a buffer, you had used every excuse in the book to avoid interacting with him.

Sure, he was brilliant.

Sure, he was a wunderkind who had just gotten back from a three month stage at noma right before he was hired here.

Sure, he was kind of a total asshole.

“Fuck that, man! C’mon. Just one shot. It’s your big night, motherfucker!” Nate calls out, practically shoving a shot into Carmy’s hand.

“Oh, I- uh, I’m good, man,” Carmy stutters, trying to find an excuse not to take the shot.

Truthfully, he hates shots… and he’s not much of a vodka drinker either.

He’s just not in the mood to get hammered either, his thoughts consumed with tomorrow, his first day as chef du cuisine, going perfectly.

You watch the uncomfortable interaction, almost feeling bad for the guy. Nate and the most recently promoted sous, Tim, are trying their best to corral Carmy into taking the shot as you walk by. You can see the uncomfortable look on Carmy’s face as he declines Nate’s offer for a second time.

In fact, he seems like a different person tonight. He’s… boyishly awkward, almost, and you wonder if he’s maybe not so great in social situations. As you pass by, drink in hand, you hear a cacophony of sound. Carmy’s trying his best to dodge his friends’ next attempt, and before you know it, Nate’s practically pushing him towards Tim, sending Carmy backwards, tumbling right into you.

You feel the wet liquid of your gin and tonic, along with the shot of vodka that’s flown out of Carmy��s hand spill all over your shirt. The shot glass shatters as it hits the floor, and the sobering feeling of ice cold liquid soaking through your shirt causes you to shriek.

“Shit! What the fuck, Carmy!” you yell, angrily, as you push him off of you.

At this point, you could care less that he’s everyone’s new boss, and the drama of it all has caught the attention of almost all of the other restaurant staff that have come out tonight. Your friends rush towards you, searching for as many napkins as they can grab.

“Fffffuck,” is all he says back and you can’t believe he’s yelling at you right now. You watch as his face changes quickly, from angry, to thoroughly shocked as he begins to stammer through an apology.

“I-. I’m sorry I-. I didn’t mean to-.”

He scrambles to help you, with one cocktail napkin as you push him away, your friends rushing to your side.

“No! I don’t want your help,” you grit through a clenched jaw.

“Shit, your shirt is ruined… C’mon,” Liz says, as she ushers you away shooting a glare in Carmy’s direction.

“Damn, man. You could just ask her out,” you can hear Nate say, even though you’re too preoccupied with examining the damage of your totally soaked through t-shirt.

So much for a chill evening.

“Oh shut up, Nate,” Maya snaps at the sous. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You nod, following her as she leads you away towards the bathroom.

Back at the bar, Liz is trying her best to remedy the situation, trying her best to clean up the mess you left behind. She watches Carmy closely, trying to figure out whether she’s going to pay for this tomorrow. But instead of being angry, he just seems embarrassed… remorseful, even. There’s a small part of her that feels bad for the guy as it becomes clearer that he may just not be great in social situations.

As soon as you get to the single-room bathroom, you're swearing loudly and stripping off your shirt. It’s completely see through and you know you’re going to smell like a distillery until you can get home to shower.

“I told you. He hates me,” you pout, examining your reflection in the mirror, a scowl glued to your face. You dap a few dry paper towels across your chest.

“I think it was just an accident, sweetie,” Maya says, sympathetically, as she tries her best to console you.

“Yeah, I know,” you admit in defeat.

As much as you’d like to blame this on him, you know it wasn’t his fault.

“Sorry I asked you to come tonight. If I knew it would be this much drama-,” you begin, before being promptly cut off.

“Oh no, I’m all here for this drama,” she laughs, causing you to shake your head and lighten up a little about the situation.

As angry as you’d like to be with Carmy, you know that the truth of the matter is that he hadn’t meant to spill his drink all over you. You should be mad at Nate and Tim… but it just feels easier to be mad at Carmy considering.

“Incoming!” you hear a voice say as Liz arrives. In her hands, she holds what looks like a white t-shirt, neatly folded up, that she hands to you. “Anyone in need of dry clothes?”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh with relief, glady taking it.

“Good on you for having an extra,” Maya says.

“Well, it’s a restaurant. You never know when you’re gonna need a change of clothes,” Liz shrugs, a glimmer in her eyes that Maya notices, as she says it. You find it a little strange that she seems to be watching you for a reaction, but you brush off the look she sends you, as you slide the dry t-shirt over your head.

The t-shirt isn’t much bigger than an oversized fit you’d buy for yourself – which makes sense because Liz is a bit taller than you. The cotton fabric hangs loosely over your form as your eyes flicker over to your completely soaked through shirt that lays crumpled up on the bathroom sink.

“Well, ladies. We did our best,” you resign yourself, as you notice your still-very-wet bra begin soaking through the white t-shirt.

“C’mon. Let’s see if we can get some more paper towels. Or uh.. See if the kitchen has a towel we can use,” Liz says, nodding her head towards the door.

“We’ll be right back,” Maya reassures you, empathy in her eyes.

You watch as Liz follows her, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for the door to the bathroom to swing open again, which surprises you. You gasp as soon as you see who's come through the door, and you’re crossing your arms over your chest which may only make the wet bra, white t-shirt ordeal even worse. A very flustered Carmy stands in the doorway, his mouth hanging open as if he hadn’t expected you to be in here.

“There’s uh… someone in here,” you scoff, unable to hide the irritation in the sound of your voice. You hug your arms closer to yourself, almost as if to cover yourself up.

“No I-, yeah, I know I just-,” he stammers, his eyes shifting to the floor. He feels like he’s walked in on something he shouldn’t have, and he can feel all the blood rushing to his face, instantly regretting his decision not to knock first.

“I actually, uh… I came to apologize,” he manages to get out, his words quiet. He says it as if there’s an unintentional question mark at the end of his sentence. You can see the way he runs his eyes back and forth, trailing over the fancy floor tile, searching for the right words.

“I didn’t mean to- I just-. Sorry…”

His demeanor surprises you. At work, Carmy’s this confident, commandeering, talented chef, but tonight, he seems anything but.

Nervous. Shy. Like a fish out of water, even.

You take a breath, trying your best to relax.

You can feel some of your guard coming down as you begin to accept he really hadn’t meant to spill his drink on you. But you’re not eager to forget the fact that he’s been kind of an asshole to you since you started working here. Unsure of how to respond, you give literal effort to replying with a:

“It’s fine. Thanks.”

He knows you don’t mean it.

In fact, he can hear how painful it is for you to get out those words.

You wait for him to leave, but Carmy continues to stand in the bathroom with you, awkwardly. But he doesn’t say anything, so you figure that the least you can do is deflect a little with humor.

“I’ll uh-, invoice you for the therapy session,” you say, trying to eliminate any malice in your tone so that he knows you’re joking. “Walking home in a wet shirt on the streets of NYC is gonna be… fun.”

“Oh uh…” he trails off, his face turning a darker shade of red.

“I’m kidding,” you state, searching his face for any kind of expression.

This man is impossible to read, you think to yourself.

His eyes are still glued to the floor as he begins to move, mumbling something you can’t quite hear in response to your failed joke. Carmy slides out of the denim jacket he’s wearing, before taking hold of it, extending an arm out to you.

“Sorry um-. Here,” he says nervously, and it’s the first time he’s allowed his eyes to meet yours. “You can uh-. You can wear this. For your walk home.”

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting.

And had his eyes always been that blue?

Your face softens.

You take the jacket hesitantly, holding it in your hands. This time you mean it when you say:

“Thanks.”

“Least I could do,” he shrugs, daring to meet your eyes with his again.

You slip the jacket over your shoulders as the two of you stand a few feet apart. The air feels thick, and at this point, you’re not sure how to feel. Even though your bra has continued to soak through the white t-shirt, the way his denim jacket feels wrapped around your shoulders feels like an added layer of protection.

“After uh-. You know I-,” he stumbles through.

“Yeah. No I uh-. Thanks, again,” you repeat, cutting him off.

Might as well put the poor guy out of his misery.

“Anyways, I’ll make sure to get this back to you,” you interject, your voice much more reassuring this time.

“Yeah,” he nods.

You swear you can almost see the corner of his lips turn up, but you’ve never really seen him smile, so it’s not like you have much to compare it to. Carmy excuses himself, and you watch as he leaves, genuinely grateful for the peace offering.

The way that Carmy’s jacket hangs heavily around your shoulders makes you wonder if it’s real denim. You notice that it smells like him too: a faint scent of cigarettes, Old Spice deodorant, whatever scented laundry detergent he uses that feels familiar.

You and Carmy don’t speak again, save for a few short exchanges at work, but he’s been on your mind. Your interaction the other night had left an impression on you – albeit a strange one – and you’re not sure why you haven’t returned his jacket yet.

It’s not till a few days later that you speak again, leaving another strange impression on you. You head into the walk-in to get a few quarts of heavy cream and as you pull the door open, you find a flustered Carmy standing there. He’s got his hands on his hips and eyes glued to the floor with an exasperated look on his face as he watches the plastic storage containers he’s just thrown clamor across the floor. You gasp, shocked by the loud sounds, and Carmy knows he’s not alone.

As he turns to you with a glare on his face, you notice that Carmy’s eyes are puffy, his cheeks flushed red, and he looks sick as a dog.

His eyes are wide with embarrassment for a moment, before returning to their normal, stoic focus, hardened by a less than positive interaction with the exec chef.

“Sorry,” he mutters, uncomfortably. He gestures towards the storage containers on the floor, before running a hand through his neatly slicked back hair.

“It’s uh, you’re good, chef,” you say, trying your best to put your wall of professionalism up.

You had witnessed the demeaning encounter from the exec chef – everyone had. It had been impossible not to. He’d practically breathed down Carmy’s neck, taunting him for his lack of focus today, that he’s a little bitch for letting allergies get to him.

To say that the man was emotionally abusive would be an understatement.

You should leave – turn and go, and pretend that this never happened – that you’d seen nothing. But instead, you stay.

“You good, chef?” you ask softly, a hint of concern in your voice.

He sniffles again, the searing headache that robs him of his focus only burning brighter after what just happened.

“Yeah, no. I’m fine,” he snaps, refusing to look at you.

You wait for him to say something more, only he doesn’t. You can see he’s not feeling well and that he must be feeling worse after his metaphorical public stoning in the town square. He’s not sure what the hell it is you’re waiting for, and he just needs another fucking second to himself.

“Why are you still here?” he grits through teeth, his eyes fixed to the floor.

You open your mouth to say something, but you’re honestly not sure why you’re still in the walk-in with him either.

Maybe because you know that the exec chef is a total monster.

That he shouldn’t have talked to Carmy like that.

That you can understand why he’d be upset.

“Chef!” he says, raising his voice a little louder and flinging his hands towards the door. “Will you just-?”

You nod, a feeling of embarrassment filling your chest, as you realize he wants you to leave. You hurry out of the walk-in, closing the door behind you as you escape, your heavy cream quart containers in hand.

“You good?” Liz asks, as soon as she sees you come out of the walk-in. She’s passing by to bring a few deli containers over to the dish station.

“What?” you ask back in surprise, unaware that you look visibly shaken up.

“You look… flustered is all,” she points out.

“Oh. Yeah. I just uh-, Carmy’s in there. Throwing a fit. He just uh… snapped at me is all. But what’s new?” you reply, trying your best to shake it off.

She rolls her eyes in response, “Yeah, he can be like that. Thank your lucky stars that you don’t have to work under him.”

You let out an annoyed exhale. It’s a funny feeling – one that leaves you a little confused: one minute he’s this chivalrous guy that’s handing you his jacket to wear home and the next he’s practically tearing your head off to get out of the walk-in. You can’t quite figure him out. He’s so hot and cold, you’re not sure what to expect from him anymore.

As you and Liz are about to part ways, you remember that you have to give her back her borrowed shirt.

“Oh!” you say, calling her attention before she returns to her station.

“I have your shirt, by the way,” you say. “From the other night.”

“Oh,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “Okay weird timing considering he’s being such an asshole today but uh…. Yeah. The shirt’s... not mine. I forgot to tell you.”

You send her a puzzled look as she shrugs.

“I didn’t think you’d take it if I told you but… it’s Carmy’s. He pulled it out of his bag when he spilled the drink on you,” she informs, waiting to gauge your reaction.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“You were so mad at him that I just figured-, it doesn't matter. He pulled it out of his bag to give to you. I think he felt really fucking bad, babe,” she interjects, revealing the truth.

Well now you’re really fucking confused.

And after your little interaction with him in the walk-in, there’s no way you’re going to bring it up to him today.

“Oh. Yeah um, got it,” you reply, feeling even more confused than when you started the day.

You show up to work the next day with the t-shirt and his jacket tucked into a canvas tote bag you plan on giving to Carmy. You’d decided to wait till you had them both, and you’re also hoping that he’s in a better mood today.

Only, Carmy’s not here today.

“Yeah, he’s out sick. Looks like those allergies turned out to be a nasty head cold,” your general manager had informed you when you’d asked about where Carmy was. “Looks like Tim’s filling in today for him.”

“Got it. Thanks, Kate” you’d replied.

Later on your mid-shift break, you’d then mustered up all the courage possible to ask if anyone had checked in on Carmy. Kate, your GM, had answered no, and had been more than happy to give you his address so that you could do so. You’re not sure why you feel like it’s the right thing to do, but between his act of kindness at the bar, and his outburst in the walk-in yesterday, you figure it wouldn’t hurt to show him a little kindness. Not that you feel like you owe him or anything.

Maybe you just want to give him his clothes back and be done with it.

Maybe you’re also deeply confused about who the hell Carmen Berzatto really is.

Maybe the mystery of it intrigues you a little more than you’d like to admit.

Dinner service flies by quickly – a string of non-stop orders helps the time go faster. Carmy’s apartment is on your way home, so it’s a no-brainer to make the trip. You stop on your way at a deli nearby, picking up a quart of matzo ball soup, before heading over to his apartment.

When you get there, you knock on the door three times, anxiety beginning to flood you.

What if he thinks this is totally creepy – that you just got his address from the general manager? What if he thinks you’re stalking him? What if he hates the fact that you’re even there in the first place?

You wonder if you should just leave the soup at the door and run as fast as you can so that, by the time he answers the door, you’re gone.

Just as you’re bending down to place the quart container down by his door, the door swings open to reveal a very congested Carmy. His curls seem wilder than normal as he looks genuinely surprised to see you crouching in the hall of his apartment.

“Hi!” you practically shout, taken off guard as you rise to your feet.

“Yo,” he says, blinking a few times to make sure he’s not dreaming. “What’s uh-, what’s going on?”

It’s weird – seeing Carmy outside of the restaurant, outside of his chef whites. His usually slicked back, out-of-his-face hair falls in the messiest most unruly curls around his face in a way that's surprisingly unkempt. He’s… almost human-like.

“This is for you,” is all you manage to say, handing him the quart container.

“Uh… thanks,” he trails off, taking it and checking out the matzo ball soup.

You’re not sure where to begin, how to explain why the hell you’re here, so you just start talking.

“I uh… your place was on the way home,” you begin. “I hope it’s okay but I got your address from Kate. I actually used to go to this deli all the time when I was a kid with my parents and I forgot that it was in your neighborhood so I just figured that I should pick something up on the way over since I heard you were sick and uh-.”

Carmy shoots you a look and he almost looks amused.

“... I’m rambling, aren’t I?” you ask, a light blush running across your cheeks.

“Yeah,” he nods, a dry laugh following.

You wait a beat, collecting yourself. You’re not sure why this is so weird, but it’s so weird.

“I came by because…” you start, digging through your canvas tote bag that’s draped across your right shoulder. “... I wanted to return these to you.”

You hold out the jacket and t-shirt folded up together to Carmy, his eyes following them.

“Liz told me that the shirt was yours too. I just-, I know we don’t always… that you don’t-, I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I know it’s kind of weird at work sometimes but… I guess I just wanted to say thank you. For these. Hence the soup,” you finally explain.

“No problem,” Carmy nods, taking them in his empty hand, before disappearing momentarily to place them somewhere inside of his apartment.

You’re only a little disappointed by his short response, yet you’re not sure you expected anything else. He returns only seconds later.

“It’s uh-, Cool jacket,” you say. You can’t tell whether you’re making small talk or just saying something out of discomfort, but it seems to pique Carmy’s interest.

“It actually reminds me of the denim jacket that John Lennon used to wear ”

“You know denim?” he asks, and you could swear that you see his eyes light up for a moment.

“No, but I know music,” you reply.

“Uh I mean. Yeah. It is…” he says, with a nod, a hint of excitement in the words that follow. “Not the actual one he wore but… it’s a 1950s selvedge Wrangler. Just like Lennon.”

So he wasn’t just a fine-dining robot.

“Wow I didn’t know you were into all that,” you say, feeling some of the tension between the two of you melt. “Denim, I mean.”

“Something I picked up from my brother, I guess,” he shrugs, shyly.

“That’s funny,” you chuckle.

“Hm?” he hums in response.

“Just… the thought of you having a brother,” you clarify, jokingly. “Thought you were like… grown in a lab at noma or something.”

And Carmy almost smiles, you think.

“Nope. Just Chicago,” he replies, enjoying the act of sharing something with you.

“Ahhh,” you sound, following it up with another small laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get some rest. Enjoy the soup.”

“Yeah, uh. Thanks for this,” he says, holding up the brown bag.

“Of course,” you reply, turning to go.

But you don’t go yet, not ready to let go of the momentary connection you’ve built with Carmy

"You know it doesn’t have to be like this,” you say, turning back to him. He's staring at you, just like he does in the kitchen. It’s another long, languid look that makes you realize that maybe they haven’t been hate-glares after all.

“We don't have to do this... start over every time we see each other.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree with a nod. “I mean, I've already worn your clothes so… it’s a rather… intimate thing for us to just be strangers….”

He listens attentively.

"We could… coworkers… friends, even,” you suggest, hesitantly.

“Me and you?” he asks, a puzzled look on his face. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by what you’ve said, or if he’s about to laugh in your face.

“If you want,” you nod in response.

He waits a beat, and you watch his facial expressions soften a little as he finally says, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You smile at him, the man you thought hated you, wants to be friends with you. You get a wicked idea, letting out a chuckle before continuing.

“Great. There’s just one thing,” you begin playfully.

You can’t help yourself.

“Hm?” he hums.

“It’s just… I haven’t made my mind up about you. So you should consider this your trial period, buddy,” you tease.

He lets out a dry laugh, “Like a stage?”

Of course it’s all kitchen-related for him.

You laugh in response, “Yeah, like a stage.”

“Heard, chef.”

“Goodnight, Carmy.”

Carmy’s never had someone joke with him so sweetly. Between his family and, well, Richie… it’s always been callous humor and insults thrown back and forth lovingly. This feels… different: lighter.

As he watches you walk away, he looks down at the deli quart container that he holds in his hand. He’s never had anyone take care of him before – not like this – someone who wasn’t Sugar or Mikey, and certainly not his Mom. Not like this. Not without asking for anything in return. He can’t seem to identify the warm feeling that rushes through him, and wonders, for a moment, if this is what it feels like to fall in love.

Not that he’s ever experienced that either.

By Saturday, he’s back to work and feeling much better (the soup definitely helps, he decides) but it’s not for another week that he musters up the courage to ask you what you’re doing between lunch and dinner service.

“Chef!” he calls out to you as you’re cleaning up your station.

“Yeah, what’s up?” you reply.

It’s not like you’ve been all buddy-buddy and friendly over the last week, but you’ve at least stopped thinking that he hates you. Sure you’ve decided to be friends, but it’s not like you’d expected wildly different behavior.

“You uh… wanna grab a cup of coffee? On the break, I mean,” he asks, his blue eyes seeming… more brilliant than you’ve ever noticed.

“I owe you one. You know. For the soup.”

You smile, “Yeah. I’d uh-, I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

read: chapter two

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy #comfort and chaos

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satans-helper · 3 months

Text

Loopy

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Danny Wagner

Word Count: ~4900

Warnings: 420 blaze it; stoned sex ft. frottage. 18+ only

Just wanted to write about these two, specifically from around 2019 <3 Hope you enjoy!

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“Shit,” Danny muttered breathlessly, leaning back in the driver’s seat. The windows were all up and all fogged so the outside world was almost entirely invisible–that was just fine with Josh, who was sitting in the passenger seat, basking in the warmth and the musky, earthy fragrance that filled the small space. Danny sighed contentedly and rolled his head to the side, looking right at him as he said, “I wish I could feel like this forever.”

Josh giggled a little, already way higher than he expected to get. Actually, he hadn’t expected to get high at all–he’d expected to just meet Danny at their usual spot, swap cash for weed and part ways. They smoked together after the deal was done fairly often, but not every time, and today Danny had seemed oddly on edge before they started smoking.

“Don’t you feel like this most of the time?” Josh quipped, flicking the lighter back to life to take another hit. Was smoking yourself sober a real thing? If so, he thought he might inadvertently make it happen if they smoked anymore. He thought of himself as a certified stoner, but Danny lived on another planet.

Danny laughed louder than Josh had ever heard him, tilting his head back so he was looking out into the fogged glass. “Most of the time, yeah. It’s par for the course, man,” he said. When he reached for the bowl that Josh passed back, their fingers brushed and Josh’s whole hand tingled so much with the touch, it was like Danny was made of lightning.

An onset of loud pitter-patters began to hit the car; fat droplets of rain smacked the windows and made glossy trails. Josh watched them, each one seeming to move in slow motion, and the music from the car stereo began to drown out with the sound of the heavy downpour.

“Oh, man,” Danny remarked, tapping on his window and peering out. “Look at that.”

Josh followed his gaze out the driver’s side, managing a glimpse of billowing wet, green leaves outside through the fog. It was so cozy inside the car, inside the haze, sitting with his own nervous but excited energy and Danny’s friendly, easygoing presence. He didn’t want to leave. He’d keep smoking until the whole half ounce he bought was gone if it meant more time together.

Danny answered Josh’s silent plea by announcing, turning again to look into his dry, slightly bleary eyes: “Looks like we’re not going anywhere for a bit. Want me to pack another?”

Josh’s heart hammered along with the rain. “I can do it,” he offered, already reaching for the bag of weed he’d bought.

Danny gave a playful, light shove to his shoulder. “Nah, stop it. I said I’d smoke you up, so let me smoke you up.” He grinned while he retrieved the little plastic jar he was keeping his current stash in. “Save yours for another rainy day. Right?”

Normally, Josh was sure he’d have something cute and witty to reply with. But he was so stoned and so giddy with his elation of being mere inches away from Danny that his brain felt like nothing more than a mass of candy-colored swirls, his usual thoughts lost in the mix. He hadn’t had a crush like this in ages, and never did he think he’d ever be down bad for a dealer. Not that he had anything against dealers, at least not people who sold the “soft” stuff–he had lots of experience with plenty of them since high school–but Danny was just different.

And gorgeous. Josh had noticed that right away. Danny was gorgeous now, with the faint pink flush across the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones; the way his dark, loose curls fell against his shoulders, the ends brushing against his collarbones that were just barely visible thanks to the few undone buttons of his shirt. Josh could even see a bit of his chest hair, stark in color and contrasting with the subtle golden hue of his skin. Josh found himself staring at that triangular spot of skin revealed between the flannel shirt, counting his chest hairs, wondering what his skin would feel like under his hands.

“What?” Danny asked, breaking the trance. When Josh looked up, he was quickly put under another spell because those damn eyes–he could get lost in them. Lost in them like the deep, dark and mysterious woods they resembled, all lush and mossy and scattered with patches of sunlight. Actually, Josh thought, slightly amused, a little like some really good, dank buds.

“What?” Josh chirped back, his face growing hot. His whole body really, and it wasn’t just the weed anymore. He was embarrassed–not an emotion he frequently felt. Danny just did that to him. Every time they met up for Josh to buy, his heart would go wild. It had taken a few deals for his hands to stop shaking when they exchanged goods. Now, he felt like he was back at square one and his only relief would be the usual–going home to have a slow, fuzzy jerk-off session while thinking about Danny’s hand wrapped around his cock instead of his own.

“You were staring at me,” Danny said, his own face looking even more flushed. Was it the weed or was it–no, no way it could be Danny also being embarrassed. What did he have to be embarrassed about? But his hands were idle, no longer working to pack the next bowl, as if waiting for Josh to speak some sort of revelation.

Maybe it was a revelation, because Josh felt so bold for no good reason that he actually said, “Yeah. You’re hard to not stare at.”

Danny looked away, eyes on the dashboard for a split second before he looked back at Josh. “In a good way or a bad way?”

Josh scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh come on,” he said, his shaky hands also returning. He started something here–he just wasn’t sure what. Hope was a loose thread in his heart, but his high head was veering into the land of paranoia, and if Danny wasn’t at least going to be nice about letting him down, Josh was sure he’d never recover.

“Sooo,” Danny began as he began to finally crumble the weed into the bowl, head down and giving Josh a perfect view of that perfect profile. “In a good way?”

“In a very good way.” Josh licked the backs of his bottom teeth, trying to awaken some saliva and curb the intense cottonmouth that was only getting worse with his nerves. It was so bad he was half-tempted to open the window and stick his head out, open his mouth and try to catch some of the rainfall.

The smallest smile curved Danny’s lips. “Thanks,” he said, thumb and forefinger placing the last crumb of weed into the bowl. “You’re cute.”

Josh felt like his brain fully short-circuited at the sound of those words. He’d heard it a thousand times from a thousand different people but hearing it from Danny was, well, different. The compliment reverberated and echoed in his ears, sounding louder than the song from the stereo and the rain still hammering the car.

“You’re the hottest dealer I’ve ever had,” Josh said. It was the first thing he clearly thought and despite being a cheap compliment, he hoped against all hope that it would work in his favor.

Danny laughed, tossing his head back, so loud again–Josh loved that sound. He wanted to hear it more often. He wanted to make Danny laugh like that all the time.

“How many dealers have you had?” he asked, pivoting in his seat so one leg was cocked, one foot on the floor, eyes locked on Josh as he christened the new bowl with the flame. Josh’s eyes wandered down to the apex of Danny’s thighs covered in blue denim, briefly zeroing in on the zipper fly that was slightly bulging.

“Um–enough to know I’m not gonna find another one as hot as you?” Josh replied, not intending it to come out insecure and like a question. But Danny’s gaze was suddenly intense and piercing, like the single hit had supercharged him with intimidating confidence. Josh also had to hold out hope that the bowl being passed to him again would do the same.

Danny leaned back, one arm slung across the driver’s seat while the other rested on the dashboard. He was as spread out as he could be, taking up space while simultaneously keeping his body so open that Josh knew he could easily crawl over to him and close the gap, share the space with him. He was silent as Josh took his hit, still looking right at him, lips slightly pursed in thought, brows just ever so slightly furrowed.

Screw short-circuiting–Josh had to wonder if he was straight-up tripping when Danny asked, “Do you get horny when you smoke?”

Josh coughed wildly, bringing a hand to his chest from shock and the sharp discomfort in his lungs. He shoved the bowl back at Danny and waved the plume of smoke away from his face so he could see whatever facial expression Danny was wearing–his face was calm, curious, his eyes searching Josh’s face too, waiting for an answer.

At least he didn’t have to doubt anymore. This was it, Josh deduced–the invitation he’d only ever dreamed of.

He inched closer in the passenger seat, sidling up against the center console. He’d peeked in there earlier when Danny had opened it–CDs, a phone charger, numerous lighters, rolling papers, a mini bottle of Listerine. It all made sense. Now, pressed up against it, Josh was wondering what was in Danny’s other compartments–what did he keep in the top drawer of his dresser? His bedroom nightstand? What cereals were in his kitchen cupboard? What on earth was the cologne he was wearing that smelled so warm and rich even through the dense scent of weed and where did he keep the bottle?

Josh wasn’t used to racing thoughts while stoned. He wanted to be grounded. He wanted to crawl into the space between Danny’s thighs and kiss his flushed cheeks and bite his lip, run his fingers through his chest hair with one hand and use the other to tug on his hair.

“Sometimes, yeah,” Josh finally answered. He was horny. He was half-hard in his pants just from Danny’s presence and the brief conversation, if that was even the right word for it.

The hand on the dashboard slowly moved away and down–Josh swallowed hard, confused and entranced, as he watched Danny palm himself through his jeans. “Me too,” he said, his thumb running over the zipper of his fly. He coughed a little and smiled. “Like right now.”

“Fuck,” was all Josh could say, mind still racing while simultaneously feeling foggy, as foggy as the car’s interior and windows.

“Sure,” Danny said, and Josh was frozen as his long body allowed him to fluidly slink forward past the center console–then Josh was forced to move because two of Danny’s fingers were hooked in his necklace and tugging him forward.

He closed his eyes just before the kiss came, too stunned and bewildered to watch the whole thing in motion. Everything faded away–the music, the rain, the air blowing from the vents, the smell of the weed–when Danny’s lips found his. Josh relaxed into the kiss, his shoulders slumping; when Danny’s hands gently fumbled on his hips, Josh brought his hands up to cradle his face, finally feeling the warm, soft skin he’d imagined so many times.

“Is this really happening?” he mumbled against Danny’s lips as the kisses became a little faster, a little deeper. His hands were finding those curls, his fingers sinking into each strand of hair, to keep Danny in place like he’d float away if he didn’t.

“If you want it to,” Danny said, one hand on the back of Josh’s neck, the other still on his hip. Before Josh could even try to answer with words, Danny kissed him harder, moaning softly, trying to pull him forward some more.

Josh went with it. Although his limbs felt heavy and stiff as he crawled over the console and into the driver’s seat, as soon as he was pressed up against Danny’s body, he felt loose and relaxed. Just how he’d felt when they’d first started smoking and his fantasies were just fantasies and he could zone out with the high, lost in blissful images. Now, his weed high was being replaced by a different one–a high made of soft kisses, urgent touches and the intoxicating scent of that cologne that was stuck to Danny’s skin, all a welcome torrent of blissful and real sensations.

“I really want to,” Josh told him, unbuttoning Danny’s shirt to further prove it. He was finding his words again, but there was still too much he wanted to say, all these desires from their compounded meetings coming to fruition. So he settled for rutting his hips against Danny’s; Danny grabbed Josh’s ass and pulled him right into his lap, and Josh ducked down to keep kissing him.

The swapping of spit kept his tongue and lips comfortably moist, and Danny tasted like the same weed they’d been smoking and the sharp mint that Josh could assume came from that bottle of Listerine. Had he wanted this to happen too or was swishing and spitting just a habit? Their hands wandered easily over each other’s bodies as Josh considered this; their kisses were slow and steady, and the rain outside kept coming down, adding to the strangely cozy nature of the progressing rendez-vous.

It was all really happening, and all of Josh’s prior doubts were falling away. It seemed so silly now to think that Danny had never thought of some of the same things. When Josh tugged Danny’s shirt apart and rubbed his thumbs over his nipples, Danny arched his back and dug his fingers into Josh’s waist with a deep groan.

“God, you’re sexy,” Josh remarked quietly, looking at Danny’s face again before he started to press soft kisses to his neck. Between them, he could feel Danny’s erection pressing against his own, both of them trapped in their respective pants. Confined to a car, how much could they really comfortably do? Josh wished they were back at his place, or Danny’s even, on a big, soft bed instead of the narrow, firm upholstered seats.

Not that he ultimately really minded; Danny didn’t seem to either. His hands were slipping beneath Josh’s t-shirt, ticklish touches across his stomach; Josh giggled into the crook of his neck and Danny chuckled softly as one hand wandered back down and landed on Josh’s crotch.

Just the dull sensation of Danny cupping him through his pants made Josh’s head spin–he wanted more, as much as he could get. He cupped Danny’s cheeks and pulled him into another kiss as he began to grind in his lap, trying to make some more friction. The scant metal of Danny’s zipper and button were proving nice to rub up against, but he still needed more; he reached down to get it undone, Danny nibbling on his bottom lip at the same time.

Danny let out a little huff as Josh grabbed his cock, feeling the size and heat of it through his boxers. Josh broke their languid kisses to look down at what he was feeling–Danny was big, definitely. He’d figured as much.

Danny put a hand on the back of Josh’s neck, his fingertips brushing through his curls: “Wanna see it?”

Josh nodded, their foreheads pressed together; Danny leaned back and Josh sat back, giving him the bit of space that was possible. Danny brought his hands down to take it out himself and Josh’s mouth was even less dry at the sight of Danny’s cock–big and hard, the head a darker pink and already leaking the tiniest bit of pearly precum. When Danny wrapped his hand around it–his big hand with the long fingers–not even he could cover the entire shaft. Josh just kept staring as Danny lifted his hips and pulled his boxers and jeans down a few inches, exposing his balls and the tops of his thighs, too fixated to know what to do with himself.

Danny gave a shallow nod, his eyes on Josh’s groin. “I wanna see you too,” he said, his voice low and inviting, as he gave one long, easy stroke to himself.

There was barely enough room on the driver’s side for even Josh to mirror Danny’s prior actions with a modicum of grace. His elbow banged into the dashboard when he pulled his pants down; Danny chuckled and laid a hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Damn,” Danny said, his gaze still on Josh’s groin that was now bared straight to him. Danny’s face was slightly blurred in the lingering haze of smoke and humidity, but when he started to inch closer, closing the gap by pushing Josh back against the center console, Josh’s vision of him became clearer. Josh laid back against it, looking up at him until he winced at the hard plastic digging into the back of his neck.

“That’s no good,” Danny remarked, then he was shrugging himself out of his shirt and stuffing it beneath Josh’s neck and upper back, giving a shallow, warm and fragrant cushion. He sighed softly as he let his lower body rest on top of Josh’s. “Is that any better?”

Distracted by the first subtle but still intense contact of their erections being pushed together, Josh forgot to answer right away. When he saw Danny smile a little and felt fingers gently running down his neck, Josh said, “Yeah. Yeah, it’s better.” He placed his hands on Danny’s bare waist, one skimming down and over so he could touch the dark happy trail beneath his navel. “Still kinda wish we were on a bed though. Or a couch.”

Danny rolled his hips a bit, really rubbing their cocks together. “Next time,” he said, planting the hand that wasn’t traveling across Josh’s chest onto the center console, right next to his head.

“There’ll be a next time?” Josh asked, tensing with grueling anticipation as Danny let a long string of saliva slide down from his lips and onto their cocks. He gripped Danny’s waist harder, the skin beneath his fingers turning red with his squeezing.

Danny slid the spit around both of them, his fist a tight vice that kept both of their cocks together within; he nodded, looking down at what he was doing between them for a moment, then met Josh’s gaze again. “For sure,” he said, the sound of his voice and the simple but titillating words looping through Josh’s brain. The hand between them was gone, replaced by more of his weight pressing down, then Danny was kissing Josh again, taking the air right from his lungs and the words right from his tongue.

Confined to the small space of the car, locked in all of his clothes, trapped beneath nearly the full weight of Danny on top of him–so much potential for discomfort, to feel helpless and stuck. But Josh felt nothing but bliss and wanting, the wanting so deep and aching now that Danny really was there on top of him, grinding their hips together and kissing him hard and fast, moaning softly against his lips and playing with his hair with his spit-dampened fingers. Josh felt like he could stay there and keep doing all of that forever.

“I know it’s not the same,” Danny said, speaking against Josh’s lips before he kissed him again, then pulled back from the kiss as his hips pushed forward. “But y’know–given the circumstances–”

“No, no,” Josh said, breathless and wrapping his arms around Danny’s shoulders. “It’s good.” He couldn’t do much in his position, but he was able to grind upwards for a couple seconds, moving with Danny’s rhythm. The friction they were creating and the new high they were chasing might not have been the same, but that didn’t make it any less perfect.

Danny let out a small huff with his efforts, grinding harder, shoving the weight of his lower body straight down in a surprisingly concentrated way. Josh bit his lip, stifling what he thought might be too pathetic of a whine, but Danny intercepted with another kiss. He swiped the tip of his tongue over the slight tooth imprint in Josh’s bottom lip and caressed his face; the intimacy forced a real whine from Josh’s throat that was caught between their mouths, and he could feel the slight smile on Danny’s lips after the sound tore out of him.

Josh could feel more needy, desperate sounds building up in his chest. When Danny broke away and braced his hand on the center console again, keeping himself propped up while he looked down, Josh kept the sounds locked in his throat. There was no way he could let them out when Danny was looking at him like that, deeply into his eyes with such an open, vulnerable gaze; he didn’t even need to say anything. Josh could see the same desire he felt reflected in Danny’s eyes, and his pupils had become so huge that he could just barely make out his own literal reflection in the blackness. And Danny’s skin, so silky and rosy–his face, but his body too. His chest was flushed and his entire body was vividly warm on top of Josh’s; when Josh took half a second to glance at the windows, he couldn’t see the outside world at all anymore.

A little line creased between Danny’s eyebrows as his jaw visibly tightened and he let out a low, quiet groan. “God, Josh,” he said, so soft and so sweet were those words from his swollen pink lips. It looked like he was going to say something else, but then he was spitting into his hand, leaning back and wrapping that hand around both his and Josh’s cock, jerking them both off with a shocking onset of gusto.

Josh’s back arched and a loud, long moan ripped right out of him. He reached out to grab Danny’s hip, hooking his thumb through the belt loop of his jeans to encourage Danny even more; he closed his eyes, sinking even further into the feelings and the sounds, but then Danny said his name again.

“I want you to come so hard,” Danny said, looking wild and beautiful, so much so that Josh had no doubts about obliging. Just hearing the slight growl in those words and seeing the way Danny’s hair fell against his shoulders, the way his throat bobbed as he threw his head back, was more than enough to bring Josh right to the edge.

“Fuck yes, that’s it,” Danny hissed, looking down at what Josh could feel was both of their generous streams of precum mixing together in his hand. Danny kept stroking–Josh kept panting and whimpering and staring at him as the smooth velvet of Danny’s cock rubbed against his own, the spit and precum keeping the slide sticky, the friction luxuriously wet.

Josh was surprised–and delighted–that Danny came first. He threw his head back again as he moaned; Josh watched his shoulders shudder and his chest heave, then looked down at his hips stuttering and the motion of his arm and hand slow down. He could feel the additional warm, wet stickiness of Danny’s cum that made him want to come too.

With a sigh, Danny let go of himself. He brought his full focus to Josh, keeping his hand wrapped solely around his throbbing wet erection; Josh squirmed while his own chest heaved hard, his breathing ragged, and then his vision was blurring and blacking out entirely as his eyes closed of their own volition. But as his own orgasm rolled through his body and he spilled into Danny’s hand, within the blackness behind his eyes, Josh could still see only him.

When he opened his eyes, Danny was still there, of course. He looked calm and relaxed–he was still perched on top of Josh but his weight had diminished with the slackness of his body and the release of all that energy. The same went for Josh, who was loose like goo in the middle of the front seats, still trying to catch his breath as Danny ducked down to kiss him all gentle and sweet.

“You’re really something,” Danny said when he was sitting back, creating space between them for the first time in which Josh could only guess how long. He wiped his hand on his discarded shirt, then lifted his hips up from the driver’s seat to pull his boxers and jeans back up; Josh managed to do the same after a couple more seconds of collecting his mental bearings.

Flopping back into the passenger seat, Josh said, “So are you, Danny.” He wished the center console didn’t exist at all so he could stay close without it being awkward–the idea of trying to cuddle, crammed in the driver’s seat together, wasn’t really romantic. But just as Josh was once again dashing away his own little hopes, Danny whisked them to life again by leaning straight across the front of the car and pressing his clean hand to Josh’s cheek.

“I really like your face,” he said, making Josh’s heart ramp up again. Danny’s fingers brushed over his cheekbone and then his jaw before it was gone and Josh just felt the residual tingle of where his touch once had been.

“I really like yours too,” Josh told him, sparing a quick look at the slight bit of himself that he could catch in the rearview mirror while Danny put his dirty shirt back on. He couldn’t see much, so he hoped he didn’t look as wrecked as he felt–Danny looked depleted but glorious behind the wheel again, and excitement bubbled in Josh’s belly when he lifted the bowl to light again.

Danny exhaled more smoke, then passed the bowl and lighter over to Josh. “I really like you, Josh. As a whole person,” he said, looking a little shy again. God, it was so cute. Josh had to look away as he took his hit, trying to find a little composure. “It sounds lame, but I’m really glad you started buying from me.”

Josh laughed. The single hit of weed seemed to reignite his previous high, in addition to Danny’s charm. “Yeah, I’m glad about that too. Is it safe to say that, after all this, I’m your favorite customer?”

Danny laughed too. He backed up against the driver door, facing Josh, legs splayed as much as he could. “No doubt about it.” He leaned forward to take the bowl Josh passed back and let his fingers linger on Josh’s hand, keeping them suspended in air for a moment. “I’ll always smoke you up. But maybe next time, we could do something else too?”

Josh was delighted. He perked up in the passenger seat, Danny’s question echoing in his ears along with the rain that was still pounding down. “Something else in addition to doing this but in a bed instead of a car?”

Another laugh. Danny nodded with the bowl to his lips. “Exactly,” he said, slightly strained with the smoke in his lungs before he exhaled. He smiled, eyes bright. “What do you think?”

“So like…a date?” Josh asked, able to picture it so easily. They’d talked a bit about what else they like to do–he could imagine romping around outside somewhere with Danny, holding hands while they walked a trail with the sun high above their heads. He’d be happy with just about anything.

“Yeah, a date,” Danny affirmed, then cleared his throat. “If you want.” He looked away, his dark hair shielding his face, until Josh took it upon himself to crawl back over the console and sidle up against him.

“It’s really adorable when you’re shy,” he said, resting his cheek on Danny’s shoulder. “But you should know that I’ve been thinking about doing all sorts of things with you since the first time we met.”

“Oh,” Danny said, chuckling. He tilted his head to rest on top of Josh’s. “That’s good, because I’ve been a little loopy for you since the first time too.”

Josh smiled to himself. “Am I just flattering myself, or might that be why you seemed a little edgy earlier?”

Danny slid his arm around Josh’s waist and squeezed him a bit, warm and strong. “Yeah. You make me nervous.”

“Same,” Josh said with a short bark of a laugh, so surprised again, so overjoyed that his world had been illuminated within what would have otherwise just been a slow, dreary afternoon. He was wholly content to hang out there in the dank air, content to be crammed in the car cuddling with Danny until the rain finally stopped.

---

Tagging: @sparrowofrhiannon @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @brokebellsgvf @heckingfrick @wetkleenex-gvf @kissingsun

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#Greta van fleet #gvf #Danny wagner #Danny gvf #Josh kiszka #Josh gvf #Danny Wagner x Josh kiszka #gvf fanfiction #gvf slash #gvf smut

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theunsweetenedtruth · 6 months

Text

Who Hurt You

Summary: T'Challa, the esteemed leader of Wakanda, ventures into the dimly lit confines of a hidden establishment, not as a king, but as a man driven by his own desires. There he finds you.

Pairing: T'Challa x Black! Exotic Dancer! Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: Smut, Animal instincts, praise kink

A/N: Originally written in 2019 (I think?) This was part of a phrase request, hence the bolded phrases.

He was back in the seedy club, dark with smoke curling around his face, but he kept focused on his task. On stage, he could see the woman performing acrobatics that even the strongest of warriors would be impressed with but King T'Challa would not be swayed from his mission. He'd left the Dora Milaje behind at the hotel, made his excuses to Shuri, and he was hoping not to run into Erik here. He had one thing—person—on his mind.

"T," he turned at the call of the shortened version of his name. The cute girl behind the bar with the freckles and pigtails grinned at him. "You looking for your girl?"

He smiled, tapping his fingers against the bar. "Is she available?"

"Yeah let me get you set up in your usual room and I'll let her know you're here." Bree walked around the bar and led him down a familiar dark hall. The red lights gleamed against her patent leather short shorts and T'Challa absently admired her figure. She led him to what had become "his" room, a private space he'd frequented since first being dragged to the club by Erik six months ago. A bottle of champagne was waiting for him but he was already struggling to keep his head clear with the remnants of her scent swirling in the air.

He absently heard the door shut behind him and his pulse raced as he sat on the bench. Just the thought of almost seeing her after a month of no contact made his palms itch and a rumbling come from somewhere deep in his chest. He'd been forced away from her city for business in other parts of the world, but after spending the day in meetings he half listened to, T'Challa just wanted to feel her against him, hypnotizing and soothing him in a way that only she could.

He'd tried to get his fix in the various cities that he'd had business in—top strip clubs in Miami and New Orleans, cabaret shows in Las Vegas, even the red light district in Germany—but no one could quite manage him like she did. He'd contemplated keeping her, flying her from city to city with him but he knew she was fiercely independent, a quality he loved about her. She wasn't looking to be saved from the strip club, didn't care that he was a king. And when he was with her, he felt stripped to his baser instincts, primal and just a man.

He heard the door open and she stood in the doorway, curves outlined by the red lights in the hallway contrasting with the blue lights of the room. T'Challa did his best calm the rumbling in his chest but the Panther wanted out, wanted to claim what it knew belonged to them. She wore a satin robe covering her body but he could see the lace bra peeking from underneath. He licked his lips and watched her track the movements and shiver.

"You've been away for so long I thought you forgot about me." Her musical voice rang in his ear and the Panther was clawing at the distance between them.

He spread his legs wider to accommodate for his length pressing against his leg. "Pour me a drink."

He could see the smirk on her face filling with knowledge; there was no way he could've forgotten about her. She'd made sure.

She walked over to the small end table, a swish in her hips, and T'Challa's mouth watered. She poured him a glass of the bubbly before crossing the room to him. He could feel the desire to snatch her into his arms the minute she was within arm's length but he held himself still. He only extended his arm to reach for the glass in her hand. He gestured with two fingers to the pole in the corner of the room. He wanted to watch her for a moment, give himself time to get under control before he unleashed the side of himself that he felt he constantly restrained. This—with her—was the only place he could be himself.

She stepped onto the mini stage, grabbing the remote for the music and setting the atmosphere with a slow, sultry tune, a favorite of hers, and subsequently his. She pulled the belt loose on the robe and dropped it to the floor allowing him to see the lace contraption that only seemed to hinder his view of what he really wanted to see. She curled herself around the pole and he watched transfixed as she moved through a series of moves that made his blood boil. Bending at the waist, she widened her legs and shook her behind before straightening up and unfastening her bra. She twirled it for a few moments around her finger, coyly looking over her shoulder at him before throwing it to the end of the stage. She turned and he could he see her breasts, perfectly sized for him, her nipples perked and ready. Her hands went to her hair and she arched back as if offering herself up to him. T'Challa passed a hand across his mouth, he was vibrating with the effort to stay in his seat as he watched her knead her breasts. She turned her back to him again, bending at the waist and sliding her panties down her legs. She was moving through her routine quickly, as if she could sense his waning patience. She tossed her underwear in his direction. T'Challa's hand shot up to grab them out the air, drawing them in for a sniff. He closed his eyes at the scent of her arousal, the dampness serving as evidence of her own impatience.

"Come here," he demanded. She stepped down from the stage and swaggered over to him. Holding out a hand for her, he pulled her onto his lap. "I think it's playtime" She giggled as she straddled his lap, reaching down to his waist to work on his belt. He caressed her ass, gripping her cheeks and kneading.

When his dick was free, she took him into her hand, pumping him a few times. The grip of her hand, small in comparison to his own was heaven and he slipped out a growl in response. "Please T'Challa can I have it?" He moaned and did his best to hold back the Panther but he knew his eyes were glowing yellow. She looked him in the eye, a tight grip on his dick still adding a twist of her wrist to the top. "Prove to me that you didn't forget about me." He nodded, panting and trying not to come too quick. It had been a while and she always knew what he liked.

She raised on her knees before beginning to sink down on him slowly. But the Panther inside wasn't having it. T'Challa grabbed her by the waist and tugged her down on him, slamming himself into her, all the way, until he was balls deep, the only way he wanted to be with her. Deep inside her, buried in her warm walls that hugged him a little too tight, T'Challa pulsed. Her eyes were wide, dark lashes framing the tears that threatened to spill from his force. When he pulled her up, separating himself from her, and then back down, she threw her head back and moaned. T'Challa savored the connection, it had been too long since he'd been able to lose himself in her. He snaked his hand up between them to press a hand against her wind pipe, careful to keep elongating nails away from her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed as she moved back on forth over him. Their lips came together, caressing each other's and T'Challa was forceful in his domination. They bodies moved in a frenzy, never slow but hungry in a way that bellied the truth of their relationship: she was his but he could not keep her. He was hers and he loved the power she had over over him, but it didn't matter when he had obligations that needed his attention. She was a distraction that he let himself have as a reward for hard work, only to get back to work and long for the next time.

She was coming around him before he knew it but he couldn't stop. He didn't know the next time he'd be able to come see her. T'Challa thought again about flying her to whatever city he'd be in next. When he looked up at her face, she was staring down at him again, the answers to his internal questions in her eyes. She smoothed a shaky hand over his curls before tangling her fingers in them and tugging. It was just the thing he needed to get out of his own head. She bounced her ass up and down on him and he did his best to focus on her face, on her pleasure. His hand came down hard and she let out a moan she'd been holding back and began moving faster. Anyone passing by would know what was happening in that room; T'Challa was pleased. Who cared what anyone would think when you were on the brink of the best pleasure ever experienced?

"That's right baby. Don't stop," he growled out. "You're so tight baby, I want to feel you like this all night. You're my precious baby girl." He saw her body bow to him in her orgasm, felt her wetness coat his lap, but he held on just a little longer.

"Challa," she panted out. "I'm so full. It hurts." He kept going, feeling his balls draw up and his breathing increase.

"I'm going to cum in you and you will take it all."

"Do it. I want to feel everything." She looked him boldly in the eye and he closed his own while his orgasm ripped through him. He clung to her tightly, claws leaving slight indents in her skin but not doing too much damage. They were both breathing hard, panting and limp in the seat.

"I love you" he heard her whisper. He smoothed a hand over her hair and down her back. It was part of the role she played for him, so in love with him, as if she'd been sitting and waiting for him to return to her. The panther was appeased, if only for the moment. He would have her again before he retired to his hotel room, only to wake up, once again, as the King of Wakanda.

#unsweetimagine #t'challa x reader #t'challa x poc #t'challa x black!reader #t'challa imagine #t'challa fanfiction #t’challa #t’challa x black reader

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magickkate · 8 months

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Hey there, fellow witches-in-training! Ready to learn how to fortify your energetic boundaries and protect yourself from unwanted vibes? Let's dive into the magical world of warding and shielding—essential skills for any budding practitioner. Here's the lowdown:

🌿 What is Warding?

Warding is like setting up a magical barrier around yourself or your space to keep out negative energy, entities, or influences. It's your personal energetic security system, designed to maintain harmony and protect against psychic intruders.

🔮 How to Ward:

Clear Your Space: Before warding, it's essential to cleanse your space of any lingering negativity. You can do this through smoke cleansing with herbs, sprinkling salt, or using sound vibrations with bells or singing bowls.

Set Your Intention: Decide what you want your wards to accomplish. Are you focusing on protection, privacy, or something else? Be clear and specific about your intentions.

Create Your Warding Tools: This can include crystals, charms, sigils, or even visualization techniques. Choose whatever resonates with you and feels most empowering.

Activate Your Wards: Place your chosen tools around your space or carry them with you as needed. Visualize a protective barrier forming around you, reinforcing your intention with each breath.

Reinforce Regularly: Warding isn't a one-and-done deal—it requires regular maintenance and reinforcement. Check in with your wards periodically and adjust them as needed.

🛡️ What is Shielding?

Shielding is like putting on a magical suit of armor to deflect negative energy and psychic attacks. It's all about strengthening your energetic boundaries and maintaining your inner peace amidst external chaos.

🌟 How to Shield:

Ground Yourself: Connect with the earth's energy by visualizing roots growing from your feet into the ground below. This helps you stay rooted and centered in your power.

Visualize Your Shield: Imagine a bubble or aura of protective light surrounding you, extending several feet in all directions. Envision it as impenetrable and invincible, repelling negativity like water off a duck's back.

Set Your Boundaries: Intend for your shield to only allow in positive energy while blocking out anything harmful or intrusive.

Maintain Awareness: Stay mindful of your shield throughout the day, especially in situations where you feel vulnerable or overwhelmed. Adjust its strength and size as needed to suit your surroundings.

Keep in mind, both warding and shielding are highly personal practices, so feel free to experiment and find what works best for you. Trust your intuition, stay grounded, and know that you have the power to create and maintain your own sacred space. Stay magical, my friends! 🌌✨

Sources: Sebastiani A. By Rust of Nail & Prick of Thorn. Independently Published; 2020. Wigington P. How to Magically Ground, Center, and Shield. Learn Religions. Published June 25, 2019. https://www.learnreligions.com/grounding-centering-and-shielding-4122187

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riswippiesx · 8 months

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Drive you insane | Geto Suguru x Fem! Reader[Fall out AU]

•part one

Theme: Mature(MDNI), 18+ NSFW

Fic TW: dark content! smut, world building, twisted morals, meteor fall out, world destroy, corruption, evil plans, conversation for world domination, foul language, looking down of the poor people, degradation, face slapping, slut shaming, spanking, unprotected sex(don't do this irl), fucking in a open place (but no body sees), teasing(a lot), creampie, breeding, mention of starting a family, porn with plot, not proof read !

Ch TW: Meteor attack, world destroy, uneven social systems, hate towards poors, death and injury, scams and plotting, foul language, barging into an oral sex, insult, fantasy, aroused thoughts, hint of masturbation etc.

Summary: You were respected in your world for being a savior during the meteor fall out but you had different plans which no one knew untill another heroic personality appeared to help the poor people. You thought would get rid of him but he knew everything about your little plan, he caught you. Would he expose you? Or help you out?

Note: Tried something new this time. To read this, you need mature mindset. Reader is twisted and not at all innocent. I hope you enjoy <3

05/08/2019

The fear of humans came true, the giant meteor, which was prophesied to hit the earth's ground soon, actually fell on the living planet, destroying a big part of asia. A few smaller meteors followed the bigger one and hit a few close areas. Despite of all the warnings and safety campaigns, many people died. The world population decreased in an instant. The ruler system fell apart. World economy was grounded. Smoke clouded the sky. Glimpse of heinous fire could be seen here and there. Air was heavy with painful whimpers and sobs.

Even in such crisis, a few classy families of politics and leaders were provided the highest level of safety with the secure houses made of the finest stuffs. A large part of food and water was preserved for them. Two or three of such families or family members survived well enough while the poor survivors died, lacking food water and medication.

You were the eldest daughter of a well known person. You dad used to be a bright face in world politics. He was cruel and selfish. He had both power and money. So he spoilt you as much as he wanted. You inherited his stubborn rude nature in yourself.

You were twenty years old when the fall out took place. Your younger brother was fourteen. If you were spoiled, he was like a little demon. He did whatever he wanted at such early age which costed his life in the meteor attack. He wanted to see how it looked when a meteor fell on poor average people. So he ran out of the safety shelter and your father followed him to bring him back. Of course the meteor hit both of them and they died. Their sudden death was tough for you to handle but a part of you was somewhat happy that you would have none in you way from then.

Your father was wise enough for collecting the precious papers and plans related to world domination before hand. So with the help of those papers and your dead father's reputation, you got your hands on the world politics easily.

05/08/2020

One year from that day, the world government fell apart but with the help of the survivors, somehow they managed to get things together in a way. The authorities chose the powerful survivors and decided the areas around the world to take care of. You were a chosen one. A large part of asia was given to you for nurturing and developing.

You agreed very easily and took over the area. You had to put on a mask which helped you to act kind. You hated people bellow your standard but for the sake of greater future, you offered help to those "bullshit" survivors.

At first you were disgusted by the condition of those survivors, some lost their legs, some lost their both of the eyes or one and the injury list could go far long. The authorities sent a team to each leaders and you chose some employs from your area. Your team was slowly building up. You were earning people's trust and respect with your coating of kindness. You were earning trust from the the head authorities as well. They were pleased with your work. But you had hunger, hunger for something greater, hunger for all of it. This was very less of a portion when you were starving for world domination. Your father was one of the main faces of the world. You needed to be the "only" main face of this fallen world.

As the days continued, your team grew bigger with the healthier survivors joining. Your heavily inspired them. Your soft behavior and kindness intrigued a lot of them. Your pretty face was also another reason for many young men's joining. You could notice how many people looked up at you with adoration in their eyes, some were romantic, some were platonic.

Overall it was going how it was supposed to. But, behind every eyes, you were plotting something. You wanted to snatch away powers from the other seven leaders around the world, by corrupting them anyhow. You collected papers from various sources. Since the radio waves and towers fell apart, the world connection was slow but still content. You took your time in collecting the weak points and potholes of other leader's work. You spent years after years planning, earning trusts and working on papers which would destroy your enemies. After all, the world should belong to where it's supposed to, under your feet.

Your trusted team helped you in this. You made a private team of four people. They helped you to find the papers and other things whenever you needed. They were your right hand people.

Your first victim was your neighbour leader, with whom you shared a part of asia. He was a kind man, genuinely kind. He wanted to help the poor people. Though he also belonged to a famous household before the fall out, his mind wasn't that corrupted. How boring! You used the papers about the secret scams of his family which your dad once collected and anonymously sent it to the head authority, to show how much of a scammer that family was. Your father was a savior but couldn't save himself though. To prove your point a bit more, your team went undercover and stole the money which was sent by the head authorities for the fund works, resulting a huge miscalculation in reports. Poor leader couldn't defend himself and his spot was snatch away at once by the authorities. There were no chances of mistake in a world of needs. So you appeared as a savior again and helped the poor people with shelter and food with medication. Already pleased authority was delighted by your "sweet gesture" and offered that area to you and you took it the offer in order to "help the people in need".

20/12/2023

You were busy in checking the reports from your team about the developement around your area. Some files on the food and shelter restock was attached with the main report. You had a pen in your hand while you seated on the luxury chair of your office.

You heard a knock on your door.

"Ma'am? May I come in?"

You didn't raise your head and uttered a "yeah". The other person pushed the door open and entered your well maintained, classy office room.

"Ma'am, there is someone who seeks your visit"

Your brows got twisted as you looked up.

"I wasn't informed about any meeting today. Who is it?"

"He has stated that he wants to join your team."

"Oh. But in order to join, he needs to meet my assistant first. Not me. You all know the rule, right?", you looked at your worker.

"Yes ma'am we know. We tried to tell him all that but he isn't listening. He said that he was full of potential and you are the only one who could value it truly."

"Oh what a bold mouth he got", you grinned. "That's indeed interesting. Fine. Tell him to wait outside for ten minutes"

"Alright ma'am", the worker bowed and left the the room.

You were amused. You knew that you had some admirer who joined your team just for you. Actually you didn't mind them at all, instead they were easy to control. But this guy seemed very confident in himself. It'd be fun in taking control over him.

You were smirking to yourself as you finished your paper works and signed where you needed to. You kept the file aside when you heard a knock on your door. You checked the clock when your worker left to inform hin about ten minutes wait, it was 11:30 am and the knock came right on 11:40 am. Accurate on time ! Impressive.

"Come in", you spoke. The door was pushed open once again and there stood the guy, so majestic that you couldn't look away. Those raven hairs in neat bun with a lock hanging loose on his left side of face, those dark intriguing deep eyes and that sharp face— he was handsome, you needed to admit. And this dark ear piercing made him look even better.

"Thank you for giving me a chance, ma'am", honey dripped in his voice as he spoke. You were impressed by his physical appearance but you weren't a person to loose your composure either. You gestured him with your familiar sweet and kind smile.

"No problem. Come take a seat"

He came and sat at on the chair at the other side of your desk.

"I heard you claim that you have potential?", you questioned him.

"Certainly, ma'am"

"Very well. Care to introduce your self?", you eyes danced in hidden mischief.

"I'm Geto Suguru. I'm 27 now."

"Alright, Mr. Geto Suguru, reason for your arrival today?"

"I came here as a face of Japan"

"Face of Japan?"

"Yes, I survived by fate. So to help the others in need, I worked with the local helping teams. I'm well trained in doing the fund work. I used to work as a leader of National Public Support of Japan. So for greater help, the local people told me to come and join your team. I heard from them that you are a great leader. I'd be blessed if I get to work under you."

"Hmm. And you want me to hire you, based on your words only?"

"I have my reports and documents. Here", he offered you a file. You eyed the file and noticed the details. He was speaking the truth. While you were checking the file, you could feel that his eyes were pointed stright at you. Of course it was, almost everyone had the same reaction when they looked at you.

Those files didn't seem fake. You closed the file after you were done and handed it back to him.

"Not bad. But.." You leaned infront and kept your elbows pressed on your desk "I don't hire just by the past records. I need to see what you've got. So, you will be working a day with the jobs I assign for you. Hope that's okay for you?" You looked straight at his eyes. There was something in there which didn't go entirely with this external personality, you could easily tell.

A smile appeared on his face "Sure, I'd love to"

"Great. You may leave now and wait outside for your jobs for the day"

"Thank you"

"Don't be so thankful before you even get to know what you are going to be assigned with..hmm?", you grinned at him.

"Yeah sure, ma'am", he smiled back at you and left the office. He was capable. You could use him for your work but before that you needed to test his loyalty towards you for a few days or weeks.

You had a list for the jobs which were needed to be done, such as inspecting all the shelters and stop any of the illegal activity which some people did here and there recently. People, who wanted more than they were getting, committed small crimes like stealing and attacking. You hated all that nasty crimes. For you, those were so lame. And you needed to take control over all that. Someone had to take care of the crimes. So you decided to rest your rookie, basing on that.

21/12/2023

Christmas was around the corner. Authorities had sent some special and extra supply for the people in needs. Your workers took care of it. Surprisingly, Geto Suguru did a great job in inspecting the crimes. He submitted his reports on the topic and it was well detailed than the average ones. He really seemed professional and skilled about the whole thing. But you hated giving credits to your new worker on the first day. So you just received the reports and told him to leave.

You could have given him a bit credit only if your mind wasn't messed with a lot of things. After getting the major part of asia under your control, you had to take in the islands around the continent. But it was big deal. To begin with the issue, your father didn't have much of the papers on the leader of those island. Moreover, she seemed really tough to deal with. You tried to work as a partner but she refused. You thought this would help you to prove the less co-operation skills in her to the authorities but they seemed not to care about such a small issue. Your personal team tried to spy around her area but she was really well at handling and controlling her territory. But you weren't someone to let such a small fry stop you from achieving what you deserved. So you were intrigued in making up plans on dragging her down at your office.

Your mood was just messed up as you didn't seem find something good enough. So you were frustrated. You leaned back on your chair and groaned in annoyance. "Ugh fuck this!" and put your legs on top your desk. You were working for so long and your eyes were hurting, so was your back. So you decided to take a break and walk for a bit outside of your office.

You did as you thought. You went outside of your office building and started to walk around fot bit, aimlessly. The surroundings were being taken care of yet those were a lot of damage to be fixed so early where huminity almost got doomed. Broken buildings fell around, only the roads were cleaned, to resume the journey and connections. You were looking everywhere but at the road. Your mind was fogged. Them normal people, who respected you, were waving at your was but you were definitely not in a mood to do the same. So you just smiled at them, not to mention, that was forced.

In the meantime of smiling, you looked side way and didn't notice the a few stones and parts which littered around. Your feet hit one or two of those and tripped. You were about to fall but a strong hand caught you from your behind by your waist. Your hand grabbed on that hand and you quickly looked back. It was your new rookie, Geto Suguru. He was looking down at you with his pretty fox eyes and a slight smile on his lips. Your eyes for once stopped at his. It didn't last a minute before you looked away but it felt like so long. You coughed and made yourself free from his grip.

"Be careful Ma'am, there are stones every where. If you don't be careful enough.." He leaned very slightly, "you might trip". It sounded more like a warning than an advice. What was that tone ! You were pissed.

"I don't remember giving you permission of talking to me in that tone." You fixed your cloths.

"Ah well I just spoke of your well being, sorry if that offended you." He apologized but you could still sense the mild sarcasm in his voice.

"Just go back to whatever you were doing." And you started walk away. Your mind was already fogged and this one thing made you feel even more disgusting. That new bie might give you hard times in future. You would have to take of it before hand.

24/12/2023

There came the Christmas eve. With the help of the funds and other suppliments from the head authority, two of them destroyed buildings were finally fixed. One was a mart and another one was a small apartment, which would help people to get essentials and shelter. Those opened on the day of christmas. You, being they main figure, had to be presented in all the time, looking after the things you didn't want. But again, you needed to achieve as much faith as you could. So you kept up with everything.

It was late when you finished your works and finally relaxed on your seat. After staying silent, you decided to return to the apartment you chose for yourself to live in. You kept the files a side and took your house key. Then you left your office and started to walk across the small corridor. You were about to pass a room when some noises stopped you. Almost all of your workers left, your special team too. Also the room was a little conference room, which you used to discuss plans and tasks. Noone was supposed to be in there, at least not at that hour of night.

The noises were faint. So you brought yourself closer to the closed door and put your ear on it. With a bit of notice, you could hear that those noises sounded like whimpers and a few groans. It was strangely weird for you. Was someone fucking in there? But there? Really? Inside of your organised conference room? How dared them!?

You were getting furious again. It was so improper. Did some poor people break in? A lot of weird thoughts came in your head untill both of the voices started to sound a bit too familiar. But you could not actually catch it.

You couldn't just stand and listen to such nasty noises. So you decided to barge in. The door was fortunately unlocked and you pushed it open at once. What you saw was not something you expected at all.

Infront of you, you could see two very known humans. On the ground, there sat the only female employ of your special team, whom you actually trusted a lot. She was back facing you and was on her knees, naked. Her mouth was connected to someone's hard cock, sucking on it. And that someone was none other than, your new rookie, Geto Suguru. His pants were on the floor and last few buttons of his black shirt was opened, revealing his toned abs and defined v-line. His cheeks were flushed with a faint red, hair was partially up in a messy bun as he leaned back on the table behind.

You went silent for a good while. You were looking at them and they looked back at you. Your trusted employ was quick to let everything go and tried to cover her body. You could see the hickeys on two to three places or her body. She looked ashamed. She didn't expect you to catch them like that. Whereas, the other one had a smug expression on his face. His slightly lidded eyes hinted amusement.

"Ma'am..." She tried to speak.

"What the fuck is going on here?" You calmly asked. But the disgust was clear in your tone.

"Ma'am we can...explain...please", she was nervous.

"Shut up. Not a word. If you were willing that much to suck him off, you should have gone to your apartment. Don't you have any basic sense about place and time? Huh?"

"Ma'am but...he...he told me this would be fine...and also said that you had already left the office ...and I trusted him."

"You don't even know this guy properly. That's why you don't trust just..any person. Also what made you think that it'd be okay to fuck here after I am gone?"

"Ma'am....i'm so sorry, please."

"Leave. Get your as s out of my sight right now. And never show me that slutty face of yours!"

"Ma'am-"

"Leave. Now."

She knew nothing could be stated after your stern order. So she took her cloths and somehow covered herself, then left. Then your eyes fell on Geto. He fixed his cloths already but those still looked messy. He was fixing his bun. His body was a bit sweaty from the previous intense activities. The light fell stright on his features which made him look even better. You sighed.

"I suppose you owe me an explanation.", you spoke to him.

"Extremely sorry, I thought you left and I ...well..I was feeling something. So she volunteered to help and I accepted.", his tone sounded more casual than it was supposed to.

"Wow. Keep your shits in your pants untill you are in a proper place. This isn't your little love hotels!"

"I apologize. It won't happen again."

"Apology my foot! You shithead. Stop trying to mess my special team. I warn you."

"I am not. It's just she is really attactive."

He spoke facts, you knew that. Yet your nerves burn for So me unknown reason. You couldn't just stand what he just said.

"Did I ask?", You almost yelled. But your self control game was great. So you tried to calm yourself down. "Just get out of here!" You spoke in disgust.

You came back to your apartment with a bitter mind and a tired body. You just wanted to sink in your bed. You quickly freshen up and finally laid on the bed. Your body just thanked you for the long awaited rest. Your body wanted rest but your mind was racing. What you just saw before coming back, that scene could not leave your mind. You were disgusted but somewhere in my mind, you kept recalling the vulnerable look of Geto. It was really hot. He was an attractive man and his abs, v-line..even his hard dick..you just couldn't think otherwise. Your whole body felt like burning, with some desire. It wasn't like you were a virgin. Your fucked with a few friends of yours before the meteor attack but that was long ago. After that, you barely got time to think about your sexual desire, in a obsession of power.

So, such things from a genuinely attractive guy bought out you hidden desires and your pleasure deprived self danced with it.

You didn't notice when your thighs were pressing together. Your body wanted some friction in some special places. You could feel your arousal and your hard nipples, brushing against your tshirt painfully, wanting to be pinched and pulled and played with.

A soft groan left your lips as you hands started to move towards the hem of your panties as another hand cupped your left breast over your cloth..........

...To be continued

Phew!! Finally first part is done💀 I typed a lot lol! My finger hurts now. Haha! Anyway! Please please let me if you like this or not! Commet down bellow. Reblogs are also highly appreciated 💗

Alsooo!! I might need some time to post the next part..(I have internals at college T_T) also I need some good response in this. I have put a lot of efforts in this lol! So I need results too :P otherwise i'm not posting another part anyway 🚶‍♀️

And..should I make a tag list for the next part/parts? Lemme know if you wanna be tagged. Haha

Thanks for reading tho<333

#geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #geto x female reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x you #jjk geto #jjk geto suguru #jjk au #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #suguru geto smut #geto smut #dark content

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hwadess · 1 year

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[00:28] stoner!yunho (s)

this is actually my first fic ever on this account and i haven’t really kept up with writing since like 2019??? lol… here goes nothing! i did not fully proof read this so if there are any errors pls let me know 😭 also, i feel like this goes without saying but obviously i know weed is NOT legal in south korea, but this is a work of fiction and i like having fun. i am 100% projecting. yep! anyways,

warnings are underneath the cut!

MINORS DNI, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!

remember, tumblr’s algorithm works off of reblogs. i love and appreciate likes but please reblog my work as well if you like it ♡ much love!

warnings: reader has female anatomy and is called gendered terms associated primarily with females, !!!usage of marijuana!!!, dom!yunho, some light stoner terms, reader tells yunho to stop but doesnt mean it, size kink, use of nicknames/pet names/titles (baby girl, tiny, angel, doll, good girl, yuyu, sir), obv strong language, unprotected sex (please always stay safe during sex!), creampie, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (f receiving), degradation, humiliation. if i forgot any i will add!

word count: idk i edited it in app and lost track (jk update its 3,479!

your friend group was definitely a crazy one, hosting escapades you could never imagine by yourself, making so many memories. all of your firsts were with your friends by your side. hell, you would be with your friends every single second of every day if you could, but today when yunho came home talking about how he had someone in the group find some really good weed, you knew you had to try it alone with him. even though you knew you’d definitely hear from wooyoung about it later. yunho told you that he was sworn to that it would create one of the best highs you had ever faced.

god, you were hoping that his friend was right. you knew how you were when you smoked, you were excited. of course, the two of you could not waste such an opportunity, right?

your head is filled with warmth as your body started feeling floaty, the harsh coughing from the first hit of this third blunt really helping the feeling set in. the drug began to hit you even harder at this point, turning your entire world into a dizzy, yet comfortable daze. you look over at yunho, eyes half lidded from the effects of the bud, bright with the reflection of the led lights that outlined the corners of your bedroom walls.

you took a second to absorb every single detail of his appearance, his hoodie somehow big on him, making you wonder how you’d look wearing it, remembering how big he is already. he was wearing sweatpants, the string on it tightened just enough to hold them loosely around his hips. the weed had the gears in your mind grinding even harder than usual, he looked fucking amazing.

you don’t know if it was the overwhelming urge to be close to him, or what got into you, but before you knew it, your leg was thrown over his lap, and you were there, straddling him on the sofa in the bedroom. taken back by this a bit, yunho breathlessly laughs before cocking a brow at you, head lolling back lazily along the back of the couch from laughing. you take your almost completely cashed blunt, placing it in the ashtray beside the two of you, immediately bringing light kisses to the part of his neck thats barely exposed by the oversized hoodie. fuck, he was so perfect.

that’s all it took, his body began to react what seemed almost instantaneously, his hips subconsciously pressing against you, starting the process of getting hard, as he grabbed your waist for leverage.

“ooh what’s this, pretty girl,” he cooed out, pushing your hair back out of your face, exposing all of your features even more to him. you were so pretty, “some weed got your little pussy wet?”

“no, you did,” you barely managed, the breath barely leaving your lungs. he smirked at you before tapping your side, automatically remembering that’s his sign for wanting you to raise your arms to sneak off your shirt.

“well, i’d better take care of this little problem i created, don’t you think doll?” with large yet gentle hands, he eased you off his lap on the sofa to take you to the opposite side of the room to his bed.

the room was coated in a haze of smoke as the bed creaked ever so quietly underneath the weight of you two. the harsh smell of this particular leaf clung to your senses but you were used to it, the smell didn’t bother you as much as you thought. even if you weren’t used to it, you weren’t sure how much you could even pay attention to the smell of anything when your tall boyfriend was pulling off his sweatpants to reveal his semi-hardened cock. your mind was full, the thoughts mixing in your head, enough to make you fucking dizzy. the effects of what you smoked had long since taken over, you were feeling so much.

“you wanted to start this, so go ahead.” he said, moving back onto the bed with you and then laying down against the bed, head on the pillows, gesturing down with his chin.

you knew better than to act stupid. your whole body shuddered when you looked up at him and saw him wearing the cockiest smirk you swear you had ever seen in your life. he was gonna be the death of you.

you crawled on top of him, taking the same position you had on the bedroom sofa, but this time you took his thick cock in your hand, positioning the tip of him at your entrance.

“wait, angel” he interjected, grabbing your wrist to make you release his cock. your swear your need was about to boil over any second now, mind burning with the thought of how close he was to filling your needy hole up.

“do you think you can take me like this?” he asked, looking at how big his cock looked next to your cunt. you stared back at him, blinking blearily, you were overtaken with confusion and the empty feeling in your chest having the pleasure of his cock that was so tantalizingly close ripped away from you, so hungry for his cock buried in you.

“just a couple more things, doll,” yunho adjusted in his spot, putting pillows underneath the back of his head, so he was laying up a bit more. he brought one large hand to your waist to stabilize you so you stayed still on your knees above him while his other hand slid between your thighs, spreading your folds to run his finger down to find your wet entrance. when he felt the arousal seeping from you just by gliding his fingers through your slit, he hummed softly, sinking two digits inside you which drew a pathetic cry from you.

his fingers were coated in your wetness as he pulled them out, but he still took a moment to tease you by brushing the pads of his fingers along your clit and dip his fingers in just an inch or so a few times until he was satisfied enough with how worked up you were. it wasn’t until yunho retrieved it that you realized he had his unfinished blunt tucked behind his ear, licking off his fingers coated with your juices before grabbing the lighter on the nightstand and lighting it, unexpectedly blowing all the smoke right into your face, making your eyes burn with tears. if they were from the smoke, or from need, that you weren’t too sure of.

“alright pretty baby, you should sink down for me,” he ashed his blunt before looking back at you, cocking an eyebrow at you, making you shiver.

his eyes were on your shaky ones as you eagerly positioned him at your entrance. the moan you let out as every single inch of thick cock grazed against against your walls menacingly slow was absolutely sinful. the neediness in your moan made yunho’s cock twitch inside you as you slowly worked him deeper into your wet cunt.

“now that’s a good girl, huh?,” yunho groaned out, one arm beneath his head on the pillow and the other gripping your waist. between his lips was the blunt, smoke going up in a helix from the burning tip and the corner of his mouth as he panted, feeling your tight walls squeeze him, filling up your little stretched out cunt.

your body was so sensitive to every touch, every single feeling running through your body. you could feel yunho’s cock everywhere. it was so overwhelming. all you could think about was how delicious it felt that his cock was ramming into that one particular spot that made you feel like you were going to pass out right there on his dick splitting you open.

your whole body was so sensitive from the pot, so much so that you found yourself on the edge quickly. your body began to tremble harder than you have before and you gasped out to your boyfriend, hands reaching to bring him closer,

“fuck. i’m gonna cum.” yunho laughs, feeling your cunt clench around his cock, “already, huh?” he mocks you, taking another hit while he watches your trembling fingers leave the grip on his shirt to find your swollen clit to hurl yourself into your crashing orgasm. your hips spasmed uncontrollably and your cunt was squeezing him as you came all around his thick cock, but you continued to ride him, abandoning your clit in favor of going back to grabbing onto his hoodie for leverage.

“fuck, tiny, you’re so good,” he grunted, rutting his cock up into you deeper. “yuyu, y-your c-cock is… s-so g-good,” you barely managed to choke out, bottoming out and grinding your clit against the base of his cock as you felt another orgasm already building in your tummy.

“gonna cum again?” he laughed this time, making your cheeks sting with humilation, but if anything this fueled you working yourself over the edge for him until you were trembling on top of his cock once more.

“fuck!” you yelped out, focusing on your bouncing to aim his cock to brush against the spot that feels the best. you didn’t even give yourself a break, eager to find your next release, eager to make him cum. you just wanted to be so good for him, all you wanted him was for him to fill you up with his cum.

yunho was basically panting, skin glowing shiny under the blue led lights in the room as a light coat of sweat coated his forehead, and he couldn’t deny that you looked so gorgeous right now. he adored when you were so insatiable to the point where you lost your mind on his cock, using him as your toy to make yourself cum. he was more than happy to sit there and let you take what your body needed.

and you, you were a sight for sore eyes. sweat beading over your body with your head thrown back, as you ground down on him with your little cunt filled with his long cock. you had already cum so much already, and you weren’t sure how much or what time it even was. time was a blur at this point, and it was the last thing you were gonna think about. the creases of your thighs, as well as his were both covered in your cum, creating sloppy, loud wet noises every time your skin met.

you were positive you had stained the bed beneath the two of you now, there was no way it hadn’t. it was filthy and you both fucking loved it.

“fuck, yunho!” you pathetically wailed, holding yourself down as deep as possible once you bottomed out, reaching down with a desperate hand to brush against your swollen clit gently enough to initiate the most toe-curling orgasm out of yourself that you think you have ever experienced. yunho groaned, pulling the blunt out of his mouth to blow a lungful of smoke back into your face as you gasped for air from cumming so hard.

“god, i can fucking feel you cum like that doll,” he groaned, tucking the rillo back in his mouth in to grab onto your tits, relentlessly pinching your hardened nipple between his fingers.

“jesus fucking christ,” you groaned, placing your hands behind you on his thighs, using him for leverage as you began to bounce onto him again. you had no idea how the burn of your thighs wasn’t bothering you as much as it should’ve been, but you just equated it to the thc flowing through your system. “you feel so fucking good, yuyu, fuck!”

“what was that?” something shifted in him, watching you through dark and heavy eyes as you lost yourself on his cock. his cock twitched in your cunt so hard, “your tiny cunt’s so fucking sensitive, couldn’t stop cumming even if you wanted to, huh?”

“fuck. yuyu, i’m gonna cum.” the nickname took his breath away, he loved how pathetic and small you looked while hungrily bouncing on his cock, calling him such a cute nickname. he could never admit it but the nickname made him fall apart, but he wasn’t going to admit that. yunho hisses, feeling your cunt clench around his cock that he swears has never been this hard before.

your head went blank, everything was subconscious at this point, digging your nails into the skin of his thighs, grinding your clit against the hilt every time his cock filled you to the brim.

yunho scowled, seemingly unsatisfied that you weren’t answering him. he sat up slightly, tangling a hand into your hair and gripping a fistful tightly to force you to stop bouncing on him, making your eyes meet his worriedly.

your pupils were blown, eyes shining with tears of need. your body was trembling above him as a sign that you were desperately close to another orgasm, and he stole that from you. this was the first time he had really moved since you got onto the bed, and the sight of him taking another long, thick hit, tapping off the ash off the side of the bed carelessly, and then blowing the smoke right into your face with a blank expression had you clenching pathetically around him.

“hmm, i asked you a question, angel,” he cooed, speech a little mumbled as he held the blunt between his lips again to free up both of his hands. wrapping both hands around your waist to shove you onto his cock the deepest it could possibly reach.

“i, i didn’t hear what you asked…” you whimpered, his cock making contact with your cervix from the angle he was sitting at now.

“i know that. poor thing,” he loosened his hold on your hair to move to cup your face almost a confusing amount of gentle, “so fucked out on my cock you can’t even think? is that what’s happening here?”

“y-yes sir,” you whimpered, the attempt to grind down against him unnoticed failed as your clit throbbed so painfully from the neglect.

“sir, huh? cute. sir fucked you dumb?” he smirked, reaching up and taking away the blunt completely now, putting it fully in the ashtray that was at the nightstand.

“y-yes,” it was a small reply, not able to get anything out that was more than that. you just wanted to cum for him again.

“my stupid little baby girl,” he chuckled, his lips against yours. you immediately responded, the pot aftertaste lingering in his mouth. you wrapped your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss as you began to bounce on him again.

“fuck,” you cried, feeling close as you ground your clit against his pelvic bone every time you sunk down onto him. yunho lowered himself back down against the pillows again, but this time, he wasn’t letting you take control in any sort of way this time. he started to fuck up into your dripping cunt instead of leaving the work to you completely.

“rub that clit tiny, cum on my cock again,” he panted out, grabbing your free hand, which had been busy playing with your nipples, to press your fingers against flush your clit. “fuck that’s it,” he praised when he felt your pussy flutter around him, watching you gently circle the bud as you rode him to your high.

the sight of you just using his body for your own pleasure while feeling your warm cunt wrapped around his throbbing cock was beginning to become too much, he could feel the heat of his own orgasm beginning to sneak up on him. the amount of self control he’s able to show after all this time was still astounding to you, and you just wanted to break that and let him paint your insides with his cum.

“fuck, fuck, i’m cumming again,” you got out in between broken words and gasps for air, thighs trembling as your high washed over you so hard it almost hurt. this time, the force from the orgasm was so intense you were unable to hold yourself up and you leaned down to rest your face against his chest as you panted and trembled through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

everything happened way too fast, and suddenly you found yourself on your back with yunho towering above you. his cock slipped out of you in the process, making your hole clench pathetically when you realized you weren’t full anymore.

“what are you doing…” you whined, arching your hips in a lazy attempt to get him back inside you.

“im gonna eat you out,” he mumbled, instantly lowering on the bed until his head was between your thighs. “oh fuck, you’re soaking,” he used his thumbs to spread your folds apart, exposing your entrance and swollen clit to the chilly air in the room. “how many times have you cum?”

“i don’t remember,” you muttered almost lifelessly. it felt so nice to be lying on your back again and giving your legs a break. you were so gone at this point, how could you remember?

“what a slut,” he growled, dragging the flat of his tongue against the tip of your clit, before shoving his tongue into your hole, coating his tongue in your delicious juices. your hands shuffling to yank at his hair when he used the tip of his tongue to graze your clit gently.

“holy fuck, that feels so good,” you whined out, arching your hips to grind against his tongue, making him chuckle.

it was unfair, how fucking good yunho’s cock felt in you, and how he had a sinfully good mouth. the feeling of his tongue licking over your swollen bud and you remembering how good his cock felt filling you up just minutes ago had you you cumming so much, spiraling into another screaming orgasm. this time, however, as your eyes rolled back and you let out a shriek of his nickname that he loved so much, you felt yourself utterly gush against his tongue.

“fuuuck,” yunho growled, sitting back on his heels before immediately sliding into your embarrassingly wet cunt without a second thought. the noises that came when he sunk into you would have embarrassed you if you not for the weed and the adrenaline pumping through your system.

“c-can’t anymore, yuyu, please stop,” you whined, but made no attempts to halt him as he began pounding into your sopping wet cunt.

“fuck. i. got. you. babygirl,” he whispered through grunts, attempting to give your lips little pecks although his deep and rough thrusts offset them a bit. “can you cum once more for me?” he panted out, eyes scanning over your fucked out, dumb expression.

“if you cum in me,” you compromised, drawing a dark change in his eyes from him as he nodded.

“anything you want, tiny,” the two of you fell into relative silence aside from your whines and moans mixing with his grunts and the wet sound of his cock fucking so deeply your cunt. he licked his pretty fingers before reaching down to spread your lips open and found your swollen clit, brushing against your bud softly as he knew how sensitive it would be and it felt like someone was shooting electricity down your nerves.

he continued to fuck you until you reached your last high, thighs clamping and trembling around his waist and your hand ripping his away from your throbbing clit. with a handful of powerful, deep thrusts, ropes of his thick cum were filling you up, and a long drawn-out groan came from his sweet lips.

the both of you were still for a minute, just sharing a moment to take a few deep breaths as his cock softened inside you before he pulled out, making you gasp from the realization of how spent your hole was. his cum leaked out of you, dripping down onto his blue comforter. he sighed, before catching it with his fingers. he brought his wet and soiled fingers to your lips, and you eagerly took them into your mouth with a small whimper; the bitter flavor of his cum spreading over your tongue.

watching yunho sink his exhausted body down to force your thighs apart wasn’t an uncommon occurrence when the two of you were done. you were tired but you sighed, letting your eyes gently shut as his tongue slid between your folds to catch the mixture of both of your cum thats leaking out of you profusely at this rate, while being gentle enough to not even brush against your clit anymore tonight.

“i love you,” yunho pets your head, fingers combing gently through your hair, “so good for me.”

“i love you, yuyu,” you hum. you don’t think you’re ever smoking with any of your friends present ever again.

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kas-e · 1 month

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Late Day Weight, a set of Photos.

A heavy storm rolled into Midtown Ocean City (Maryland) this evening just around sunset. I just so happened to be renting an epic apartment that sat just behind this view on the bay. I used to smoke weed and watch the sun go down from my balcony, and if it was good enough I would venture down to the waters edge to grab some shots.

This particular scene definitely qualified, so I grabbed my camera (at the time a Nikon d800 paired with the Nikkor 18-35G lens) and set up to shoot. This was just before I started coming to, and eventually moving full time to Europe - which puts it in the summer of 2019.

My backlog of processing is so backed up, that I just stumbled over these shots today while clearing out some old cards. Obviously, I don't edit in order, but still, I'm shocked when I decide to put shots like these on the backburner for later.

Anyway, it's national photography day and I'm stoked to be one, that's for sure. Although I never say it, photography saved my life, and inspired me to experience far more of this world than I ever would have without it.

Everyday I'm grateful to be packing a camera around, and I plan to stay that way until I die. By then, my portfolio should be pretty epic... that's the goal at least, and I've got a good start.

#photography #nature #nikon #landscape #original #photographers on tumblr #travel #art #seascape #waterscape #sunset #storm #ocean #bay

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omegalomania · 1 year

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everything is lit, except my serotonin

"what a time to be alive" is probably one of my favorite songs on the new record. that's not really a hard sell, though; i struggle to pick favorites at the best of times and by this time tomorrow, my favorite track will likely be a different one. but there's something about this track that i keep circling back to, for a multitude of reasons.

this one has proven a little contentious. critics don't quite get it, and even people who love the song will say that it's a little off-putting lyrically, primarily because of those lines in the chorus: "everything is lit, except my serotonin / everything is lit but my lightning-bolt brain". i'm not going to say outright that critics scoffing at the obvious earth, wind, and fire influence is one of those delightful instances of antiblack racism that's so common in music criticism, but i'd be lying if i said i didn't suspect that was a factor. but more to the point, that line in the chorus hit me a little harder than i expected it to.

patrick has stressed repeatedly that the majority of "what a time to be alive" was written before the pandemic. the lyrics to the bridge are the only parts that reference the pandemic specifically, but the rest of the song feels oddly prescient as it discusses how it feels like the end of the world...probably because in 2019, for some of us, especially those on the west coast, it did feel like the end of the world. pete wentz lives in los angeles, and thus probably got a very clear picture of this as it happened in real time. wildfires have always been an issue on the west coast, but by 2017, they started picking up in speed and scope, in large part due to the effects of climate change. the year after that, they got worse. the third year in a row this happened, it cemented that this was going to be a pattern, which is exactly what happened. today, the last third or so of the year is generally regarded as "fire season," when risk of wildfires becomes extremely high, power outages are common, and evacuations are anticipated.

i live in a fire zone. every year since 2017, i've had to evacuate my home regularly, or i know someone else who has. at this point, it's pretty well-established as routine. the first time this happened, it felt like the end of the world - watching neighbors' houses go up in smoke, housing displaced family members or friends who'd been evacuated themselves or actually lost their homes. by the time the pandemic happened, fire season hadn't actually died, either; we were carrying out evacuations while masked, and often without power (and thus no easy way to get news as to what was happening).

here's a thing about living in a fire zone. there are nights when you're going off no sleep and you're watching the ember-glow on the horizon at the early hours of the morning and thinking that it could almost be considered pretty, in a dark and dismal kind of way. there are days when the smoke haze is so heavy that you never get to see the sun but it makes the air hot and thick and it burns in your lungs. the smell of smoke becomes choking and omnipresent.

everything is lit, except my serotonin. everything is lit but my lightning-bolt brain.

i don't know if these lines were written about the wildfires in particular. it wouldn't surprise me if they were. there are a lot of moments in the song, the parts written pre-pandemic, that make me think that could've been the case: neon in the night-time and not caring if it's pretty because the view's so pretty from the deck of a sinking ship. livestreaming the apocalypse, because twitter feeds were literally the best way to get your news on whether your house might be next - if you had power and internet, that is. and not everyone did.

everything is lit but my lightning-bolt brain. it's kind of a silly line, and i understand being put off by it. it took me some time to warm to it too (pun absolutely intended). it's also a quadruple-entendre. everything is "lit" in the colloquial sense of being cool and exciting, sure, but it's also more or less how the human brain works. our brains are really just electricity, passing little bursts between all the neurons and synapses. on top of that, the sensation of feeling like electric shocks are passing through your skull, or "brain zaps," are a common symptom of withdrawal from antidepressants (which, among other things, are used to regulate someone's serotonin levels). and then there's the case of the world being on fire, literally. everything is lit except my serotonin. my lightning-bolt brain.

a memory:

i never actually stopped working through the pandemic, as i was considered an essential worker. the fires didn't let up either. a particularly horrible fire tore through a nearby area and that's the thing about fires: they turn the whole fucking sky vivid orange. i drove to work on a chilly autumn morning, the whole sky lit up in an orange glare. i stood for a minute in the freezing parking lot while flakes of ash overhead settled like snow onto my car, my hair, my clothes. somewhere, people's homes and livelihoods were burning, and in a matter of days or hours the wind could change and my home and friends could be next. so i walked through the falling ash and the sickly orange glow of the sky and did my temperature check at the door with my mask pulled up over the lower half of my face, and i got to work.

i remember that moment vividly because it was strange and surreal and eerie and it was probably the moment that felt most like the end of the world to me, or at least it did then. driving through town with the sky on fire and a disease tearing through the world and having to walk into work anyway. that's what this track reminds me of: the sheer, staggering surreality of watching everything fall apart, and then...you go to work, because what else are you supposed to do? you go to work. the world is ending. you go to work.

what a time to be alive.

#*making poasts #*writing #i dont think ive ever used that tag but i guess this counts. its a bit more prosey/personal than my standard stuff #just thoughts i was thonking about this song....lines that hit different when u have lived in a fire zone #its such a bright happy-sounding song but jesus christ. jesus christ.#anyway u are free to rb this or reply whatever i dont care

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walder-138 · 2 months

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ESTER ‘BULLET’ WILDE BIO SHEET!!!!

General

Name: Ester Wilde

Alias/nicknames: E, Essie, Bullet, Sarge, Shadow 7-9

Birthday: December 31st 1989 at 11:57 AM

Age: 33

Nationality: American (Manhattan, New York)

Languages: English, Spanish, Persian and Italian (conversational)

Affiliations: USMC (Formerly as of 2016), CIA (2016-2018), Shadow Company (2019-present)

Family: Rhonda Barone-Wilde (Mother), Benjamin ‘Ben’ Wilde (Father, deceased), Phoebe Fischer (older sister), Zachary ‘War Pig’ Wilde (Twin brother; older than him by 3 minutes) (Doesn’t let him live it down), Stephanie Wilde (SIL, @imagoddamnonionmason) Zach Wilde Jr, Avery Wilde, and Finley Wilde (Nephews and niece), numerous unnamed cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and nieces/nephews

Friends/coworkers: Philip Graves (Commander, ex but they only dated briefly), Zachary Wilde (CO, deceased as of end MW2), Klaus Newman (Potential love interest, coworker/friend) Stephanie Wilde (SIL, coworker, and best friend) (both @imagoddamnonionmason) Sheree "Reed" Norcliffe (Coworker, best friend, @justasmolbard)

Appearanrce

Height: 5’11 1/2

Eye color: Hazel-green

Hair: Curly Brown, usually straightened and put in a bun, waist-length

Skin: Olive

Body Type: Absolutely ripped- 170 pounds of pure muscle

Scars and marks: Has scars from slashes on 85% of her body from her face down from getting tortured during her time in the CIA. Gets freckles during the summer. Mole under right eye; cleft chin and dimples

Tattoos: Has one on both her wrists; thought the pain wasn’t worth it and didn’t get anymore after that

Personality

Positive Traits: Loyal, hardworking, would go to extreme lengths for her family and friends, protective, loving, hilarious, honest

Negative Traits: Vulgar, impolite, disrespectful, not exactly intelligent, stubborn, handles emotions poorly, impatient

Mannerisms: tilts her head to the side a lot, very expressive, bombastic side eye, talks with her hands, lopsided smile

Voice: Thick New York accent, uses a lot of slang, speaks very quickly and sounds like she’s always in a rush

Trivia

Was a punk as a teenager, and was even a drummer for a band her and her friends were in.

Since she grew up in Manhattan, her and Zach watched the World Trade Center be attacked from their mom’s apartment. (They were sick that day)

Her codename is a reference to a Misfits song

Bullet was a juvenile delinquent between ages 12-17; she stole, vandalized, got into fights, and even smoked pot and drank

Her delinquency is what caused her to almost flunk out of high school; she never came to class and would do poorly on exams.

The latter is the reason she ended up joining the Marines. Not because she loved her country, but cause it was her only option besides going to prison.

Despite everything she’s gone through, Ester will say boot camp was the worst part of her life.

Thank God I’ve got this out of the way lmao. I just wanted to briefly talk about her life before the military. Everything else will be revealed to y’all in a dream okay bye

#ester bullet wilde #call of duty oc #shadow company #oc #cod mwii #cod mw3 #call of duty #cod ocs #my girl

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celticcrossanon · 9 months

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Hi CC, I hope you are faring well in the heat these days. It must be challenging.

I have questions about MM' pregnancies. If the children weren't birthed by MM, is it possible that she will champion the rights of women who have fertility issues - saying IVF, surrogacy, and even donated sperm/eggs (which I don't believe they used), is the norm. I read years back that Sophie was considering IVF for her second pregnancy.

Another possibility is that Archie was conceived before the wedding. Again she may argue that having children with a partner who isn't a spouse is common these days.

I'm also curious why they got engaged when they did. Was there a rush that was real or pretend? (Eg pregnancy that was faked or really did not go to term.) There has been speculation.

Even though both children look like their parents, something seems off. There's smoke and somewhere there is a fire that has legal ramifications for the BRF. Ultimately she presented as pregnant both times. So if she wasn't, the duplicity would be next level!

Thanks

Hi Nonny,

It was and is challenging, but we have some cooler weather for Xmas, which is nice (it heats up again after the 26th, I think).

Meghan may try to do something with fertility issues to get herself out of the hole she is in, but that will do nothing for the main issue. If the children were not born of her body then they have no place in the Line of Succession, as they were not pushed into the world by the legal spouse of Prince Harry. It is harsh but the law is clear - if the legal wife of a royal does not carry you and push you out into the world (or have a caesarean), then you are not born 'of their body' and therefore you have no place in the line of succession. Making a fuss about fertility issues some 4? 5? years after the event will not make your deception any less of a deception, and it will not do away with the legal consequences of your actions.

The wedding was on 19 May 2018, Archie was supposedly born 6 May 2019. That is about a year between the wedding and the birth. If Meghan was pregnant when she married Harry, Archie would have been born at the most 8-9 months after the wedding, so say Feb 2019. There is no reason why the couple could not have announced a 'honeymoon baby' and then announce the actual birth if that was the case. In February Meghan was still going everywhere clutching her huge bump, so no early birth for her.

I have read on the reason for the rushed wedding. From memory, there were indications in the cards that Meghan faked a pregnancy to get the knot tied quickly. I can read on that again. The other theory that I incline towards is that they were already married in some sort of ceremony somewhere, although in that case I am not sure why they were given the highly inappropriate big white wedding.

I believe that Meghan wasn't pregnant both times. Her physical changes did not match the natural changes of pregnancy, and we actually had some obstetricians and their relatives writing in at the time saying the pregnancy was a badly done fake (I know, take all tea with a truckful of salt etc). What convinced me was the unnatural changes in her baby bump, like the ones below. No one inflates/deflates like that over an hour, or even a day. I also believe she has no morals or conscience that would prevent her from faking a pregnancy and then pretending to give borth. Other people may think differently, of course.

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accio-victuuri · 1 year

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CPN : XZ and his love for a “stable” kind of love ( yuguyao sweets part 7 )

i will get to the other interview cuts, but before that, let me clown. i know his sexy hair in all these ygy promo interviews are distracting but this one is too good to miss. the part where he read one of the audience reactions, aside from him showing off the phone case, what the person wrote gets me. why did XZ notice it? aside from the words used, what was the message?

So first, ZZ’s reaction was :

When I saw this comment, my heart was really touched, because I think this is exactly the feeling that "Yuguyao" wants to convey to everyone, that is, we may not have so many lives, and we may not have so much vigor. Love and events, we are all living beings, every choice is precious.

and he only read the final parts and i get why he would like it cause it’s something he would write. lol. we know gege loves to express himself using beautiful words and imagery.

Now here’s the whole comment/reaction post he was pertaining to. ⬇️⬇️⬇️

( rough translation only )

i don't know how other people think so, but for me, the master and apprentice who practiced immortality and studied the law went to the world to help the people. after a tiring day, sat around the bonfire and grilled the fish, the master listened to the little apprentice while describing the scenery of the desert. the young apprentice held her chin and listened to the master speak in a cool voice. The color describes the long river, the sunset, the desert, and the smoke in the book, Dan Qing ink… Eager to get a compliment from the master, eager to take the master to my home and longing to travel all over this vast land with Master, to be with Master. Standing up to see the magnificent scenery and the humanities and customs of various places, this is deeper than any kissing and will make my heart move even more.

It turns out that you have included me in your future life plan, so I am so eager to share what I have seen and heard with you, I want you to experience everything I have experienced, 【Seeing all beings in the world, getting along, Seeing you and me, seeing boundless love in the ordinary, fine water flowing long and delicate….

i hope i’m not the only who thought zz & wyb relationship when i read cause it’s so clear…. i’m crying 😭😭😭

• “went to the world and help the people” - this is a pretty easy connection to them cause both of them are big on charity and helping people in general. it’s a message they both carry with them, being a “celebrity” is not the main reason they do what they do. they take acting seriously, and all the more, their role as public figures seriously. they make sure they bring something good to their audience and help them in that way too. i’m thinking about the recent hs connected to wyb and him paying for scholarships and — this is why xiao zhan fell for him. he saw a really good person that inspires him everyday. how could you not.

• “after a tiring day, sat around the bonfire and grilled the fish, the master listened to the little apprentice while..” - this was the part that got me really thinking about their relationship. it screams domesticity and to those like me who loved all the lrlg / fake rumors sharing glimpses of that part of their lives — then you know what i mean. even when they were on set in 2018 or doing press in 2019, there were a lot of just standing around and waiting but it was never boring because they had each other. I wanna say, those mundane moments were special because they were together. When you read LRLG, the exchanges are about their day-to-day life and lacks the “action” that most fan fiction about them have. I think that’s why lots of turtles love it cause it shows their “reality”. I see XZ agreeing to this because this is what his relationship is like with WYB. He loves the peace and quiet and being in that person’s company — no matter how tired they both are. Please let them have that relaxing camping trip already!!!!!!

• “this is deeper than any kissing and will make my heart move even more.” - i basically rephrased this part but the point of OP is, that scene of them in the first paragraph shows the two characters love each other and it moves her heart more than any kissing scene will. I hope XZ feels the same with the roles he takes and i’m gonna keep an eye out on the frequency of kissing scenes. lol. not that i have any problem with that but if you need multiple smooches to make people believe that girl and boy love each other then you have a big problem. I wanna say that this way of conveying love without explicit action is something GG appreciated in CQL. They both had to be deliberate in their actions to show what’s the true relationship between WWX/LWJ. 🫶🏼

• “It turns out that you have included me in your future life plan, so I am so eager to share what I have seen and heard with you…” - AGAIN. Doesn’t this scream them to you??? How they always message each other during cql shoot and promos??? or even LRLG/Fake rumors, it has the element of telling each other about their day. Even as simple as the weather, or how the moon looks cause i wanna take a picture of it for you. The video. Photos. Voice messages.

• “seeing boundless love in the ordinary”- I think to XZ, there is nothing ordinary when done with love or with the one he loves the most. We joke about them being an old married couple — yibo learning to cook and knit, them buying home appliances, xz folding wyb’s clothes for him — but that’s just it. that’s the kind of love they have now. 🤍

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #thank you xz for feeding us so well during this promo period 😌😌😌😌#i get loud and clear

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mamirhodessxox · 7 months

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I hate you more (Part 1)

Mafia!Cody Rhodes x Fem OC!Mafia Reader

(Sasha Francesca Ricci) Enemies to lovers trope

Credits to @alyyaanna for helping me come up w the storyline because I had like 3 different mental breakdowns trying to figure out what to do

Storyline: Sasha was born into a world of darkness and fear, Despite the harsh circumstances she was out in she managed to drag herself into finding love at a young age especially when she least expected it but unfortunately not all love stories are fairytales, Sasha resented the man who once brought her love in her life just to leave and break her heart while having the audacity to invade her life many years once again and give her conflict of love and war on how she was to overcome the feelings she feared while trying to focus on her job with him being so close and invasive to her.

Contents: Smut in future chapters, Knife Play, Choking king, Degradation kink, Praising Kink, Alcohol, Smoking, Violence, Mentions of m1rder, drug dealing, Fluff, Angst, Fingering, oral sex.

🏷️ list: @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41

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Miami Florida 2019

Sasha was a broken girl since the very age of 16, and it was all his fault, atleast that’s what she wanted it to seem like in her world, what really broke her wash the fact her mother never allowed her to have a regular life due to being constantly associated with the mafia & even becoming one at some point. But what really did it for her was the exact moment she met someone who she swore was the love of her life, his name was Cody, he was the most beautiful person she could have ever laid her eyes on, he made her feel like she was normal, loved, she was aware of who he was, He was known for his family being one of the most well known generational Mafia in Miami so far, They were together for years, Meanwhile Sasha had to get entail on who the new recent drug dealers were the moment she hit 21, one of many were known as Roman Reigns, She had concluded an investigation upon him that Cody didn’t enjoy at first & that is what made him push himself to leave her overall, once he broke things off with her she immediately came to the worst possible conclusion & that was him using her to get information on her mother which was far from being the case. Cody assumed she had been spying on him all this time and conspired against him whilst having an affair with Roman which was not the right idea.

For years she hated him for that very idea in her head, everyone knew it including her mother, Sasha felt as if she could never experience love the same way ever again, She got more serious within the business her mother forced to be apart of but some days all she could think about was Cody, and she had no idea as to why especially now, she would have dreams about him. Nobody could ever replace the love he gave her and made her feel, and she tried, she truly tried to forget him but he was a parasite in her mind, she had done everything she possibly could, Dated women, dated men, slept with women, slept with men, but nothing could rid the though of Cody from her brain, he engraved himself in there and she hated his guts for it.

If Sasha had the opportunity she would probably make his life a living hell for having the audacity to ruin her love life permanently. Sasha stood in front of a mirror in her room adjusting the suit she bought for today’s very important meeting as said in her mothers words. Randy walked in to check on her as she took forever to get ready, Randy was close with both Cody & Sasha’s family but he had an important role within her family’s business, he was in control with her mother meaning he got a say in most things, planned out most of the missions & kept everyone in check, he was a father figure to Sasha as hers walked out on her & her brother Seth. “You’ve been up here for 36 minutes Sasha wrap up whatever you’re doing and get down there. You’re the future face of the family you need to represent us all & show everyone you can run shit.” She stared at him through the mirror & nodded before turning around to actually face him “Fine. Let’s get this over with, I have shit to do.” He nodded and walked out with Sasha into her mother’s office where everyone met, She noticed someone familiar standing infront of the window with pitch black hair which made her quirk up a brow & look over at everyone, one of the girls Athena who ran the drug dealing side of business was known to keep Sasha from killing someone if she was present, what she couldn’t do was calm her down but she often had to hold Sasha back, She & Sasha also had a friends with benefits thing going on with no actual strings attached to the fooling around they did as it was mostly for pure fun, Athena immediately stood up and held onto her forearm which confused Sha, Seth pinched the bridge of his nose as he knew exactly who the man facing the window was. while Barbra Sasha & Seths mother cleared her throat.

“I’m glad everyone could make it, truly, especially you Sasha. Today we have recruited yet another member and even made a deal with his family, but most importantly I wanted to discuss to future of this family we have all created with each other over the years. As it is my duty to address certain things like the future face of the family and Business we run, some of you wondered who would take my place if a mission or deal ever went wrong & one of my two children had to take my place, & I will answer your concerns but first I would like to introduce our new addition of the family.” The man turned around while he fixed his watch that laid on his wrist & Sasha became enraged, he was the same man that ruined everything for her, Cody, It was fucking Cody. Athena & Randy sighed while Cody grinned & started taunting her “What’s the matter Sash’ I thought you would be thrilled to see me.” Seth widened his eyes and she escaped Athena & Randy’s grasp “What the fuck are you doing here!?” Seth ran up and held onto Sasha “Don’t do this, Not no-“ Barbra slammed her hands ontop of her desk and silenced the room “ENOUGH! You’re all acting like a bunch of goddamn fools!”

Sadha sneered at Cody & he just smirked taunting her with his presence. “As I was saying, I have made the decision to make a deal with Cody, I won’t go into details about the deal we have made but he is now apart of our team, our family, and our Business, whether you like it or not, now. Let’s talk about the most impo-“ Sasha shook her head “You must take me for a fucking fool mom, truly, I will not fucking stay in this room any longer than now especially when he is in it and if you expect me to not kill him you’re all a bunch of fucking idiots.” Sasha got in his face glaring “I fucking hate you with every molecule that runs through my goddamn body and if you even get in my way for a second I’m going to kill you & your goddamn family.” Cody hummed “Is that a threat Sasha?” She sneered “It’s whatever you make it to be.” She warned before pushing him away & storming out of the office while Seth sighed “Mom this is not a good idea, you know their past with each other, you know how insane Sasha is & if you really think she won’t do something then you really must be underestimating her.” Randy observed the situation while Athena almost went out there to get Sasha back he stopped her “Let her figure this one out Thena.” She frowned nodding. Seth left the office to chase after his sister but he immediately heard screaming around the house and yelling, he saw that the wallpaper within the hallways were ripped and then started hearing crashing within the kitchen which alerted everyone to leave the office and run to see what all the ruckus was. “I’LL KILL HIM! GET HIM OUT OF THIS GODDAMN HOUSE RIGHT NOW BEFORE I RIP HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF!!”

Everyone ran into the kitchen to see Sasha yelling and shouting over the situation while she broke every single dish she got her hands on. Glass slammed against the walls & floor Until randy & Seth ran past Cody & Athena and picked her up “That’s enough Sasha!” Seth shouted until she kicked herself out of their grasp and held a knife directly against Cody’s throat but her mother’s hand laid against her back “I think that’s quite enough from you Sasha.” For whatever reason the touch of her mother calmed her down somewhat while everyone stood in shock at the kitchen’s mess. “Why don’t you & I take a walk outside and discuss about this hm? Just you and me my sweet.” Sasha glared directly at Cody before moving the knife away from him while he cleared his throat & chuckled before Barbra took the knife out of her hand and laid her palm against her cheek “Why don’t you go outside & wait for me hm? Take a breather.” She nodded meekly & gave Cody one last glare before walking off as she made her way outside. Barbra cleared her throat turning to Cody “Just give her time to adjust, whatever happened with you two is still being treated delicately like an open wound.” He nodded “I’ll give her all the time she’ll need.” He said with slight sarcasm before Barbra walked off as everyone started cleaning up the kitchen.

Sasha sat on a stone bench in her designated area of the mansion where she would spend most of her time. Her heel dug into the dirt as she listened to the footsteps of her mother “That was quite the stunt today Barbra, How can I trust you will be the face of this bu-“ she scoffed “Is that all this is to you mom? Business? What happened to you actually caring about your children? Do you understand how fucked that is for you to do as my mother? You saw how he affected me, hurt me, broke my heart and yet you let him invade our fucking family and business for your own benefit?” She questioned as Barbra stood with her hands behind her back “I love you Sasha, I do, but you need to understand business is business, you need to trust me on this young lady.” Sasha scoffed shaking her head “You using my heartbreak to your benefit will never make me trust whatever fucking process this is.”

She shoved past her mother before storming inside the mansion & going up into her room 10 minutes before one of her closest friends walked in, Mariana handled most of the statistics when it came to business, she worked on heavy amounts of research on other well know family’s that were also doing shady shit under the table, But Mariana was a bestfriend to Sasha, she knew how you talk her down from acting on anything else more outrageous today and right now was one of those moments, she placed herself next to Sasha on her bed “You can’t let him get to you like that Sash’ you’re giving him the reaction he wants.” She sighed out while Sasha scoffed “this entire deal is bullshit Mari, it’s not fair.”

She frowned nodding running her hand down Sasha’s back & Sighed “I know, It’s all fucked up in it’s own way but you need to keep yourself together & make sure you don’t let him get to you.” She nodding in agreement while sighing before Mari got up “Just lay back today alright? You’re gonna piss yourself off thinking about him.” She said before leaving Sasha alone in her room, meanwhile Cody sat in one of the lounge rooms with Randy & Seth drinking “She’s acting like a goddamn Child.” Seth sighed shaking his head “You’re both annoying, You shouldn’t have been messing with her like that in the first place.” Cody scoffed setting down his glass “Bullshit she spied on me & my family & was sleeping with Roman, Randy could confirm that shit.” Seth turned to Randy & glared “Are you actually stupid?” Randy stood confused “Well it’s true is it not?” Seth groaned “No you fucking idiot, it’s not even close.” Randy furrowed his eyes “Yes it is? She was literally close with Roman the entire tim-“ Seth shook his head “No you dumbass She wad spying on Roman per moms request because his father is a well known fucking cocaine dealer, She was playing as his best friend & just assumed Cody knew. But then he fucking dumped Sasha so now since then she’s under the impression he was using her to get close to mom” Cody furrowed his brows “Well obviously I didn’t know Seth.” Seth made a fake dramatic face “OHH?? No fuck??!! Obviously you fucking didn’t because you’re just as fucking stupid as my sister.”

Cody glared & flipped him off, Randy scratched his neck & awkwardly cleared his throat “Well I mean it’s too late to fix anything now.” Seth rolled his eyes and tugged at his own hair “I’m going to slam my head through a bunch of glass.” Athena walked in & cleared her throat “Barbra gave us all a mission tonight, It’s in downtown Miami, club space, Randy has to make a drug deal & we all have to be some sort of distraction while Cody takes the buyer of the drugs car, It’s a 911 Turbo Cabriolet, He never paid the car owner his money & we’ve been requested to take it back, Sasha needs to distract one of his men which means You, Cody, aren’t allowed to distract her whatsoever tonight am I understood?” Cody hummed nodding “What drugs am I selling this time Thena?” Randy questioned while she handed him a list “everything on that list is what he’s buying. They’re all packed away and ready in your car.” He nodded and shoved the list in his pocket.

Hours later Sasha was getting ready in Athena’s bedroom, She wore a tight yet extremely short black dress followed with pumps before adjusting her hair, She stared at herself for a moment before adjusting her breasts which made Athena giggle in the background causing Sasha to smile a little before prancing over towards her, “Nervous?” She smiled shaking her head while Athena held her waist “With you wearing that? Of course I am.” Sasha laughed shaking her head while Thena ran her hands down her back and grabbed onto her ass humming which made Sasha sigh out and press a kiss into her neck “You sure we can’t skip out on this one?” Then chuckled shaking her head before lightly smacking her ass “You know we don’t have time to fuck tonight Sasha.” She pouted before Sasha laid Athena on the bed smirking “I’m sure I can get a-lot done in the span of 30 minutes.” Sasha grinned and pushed Athena’s dress up before snatching off her panties “so fucking wet..”

Meanwhile Cody & Seth waited downstairs & heard a loud shriek from upstairs which earned a confused reaction from Cody while Seth sighed “And she says she isn’t lesbian.” Cody looked over at Seth confused “That was Sash?” Seth nodded as he adjusted his button up shirt “It sure was Cody. It sure was.” Moments later Sasha & Athena finally came downstairs but she made eye contact with Cody & grabbed Athena’s jaw kissing her sloppily and patting her ass while he was watching before they walked out the door “Now your just showing off”

Cody mumbled following behind Seth Randy & Mariana followed behind after grabbing what the team would need, everyone soon met up at the nightclub, Music was blaring outside of the club & colorful lights flashed around the building, Sasha got out of her car & met with the rest of the group, She felt Cody burn holes into her through his stare as Randy & Athena went through the entire plan before separating from each-other, Sasha waited at the bar for a little bit as she eyed the man she was ordered to distract, He made direct eye contact with her before she turned her head into Cody’s direction who was looking behind one of the post ups the workers would stand at to guard the belongings of others but luckily one of them walked off, He looked over at Sasha and gave her the nod that signaled her to go & do what she needed to do. Sasha made her way over to the man sitting in the booth “What’s a man like you doing here all by himself?” He smirked sitting up “Who said I was alone Precioso?” He pointed towards his buddy’s direction which was the man buying drugs off of Randy.

She smiled flipping her hair a bit and sitting herself next to him while he wrapped his arm around his waist “So, what’s your drink tonight? You look like you need one.” She smiled politely and shook her head no as she noticed Cody found the keys & made his way towards the parking lot, unfortunately he didn’t like the response Sasha gave him “C’mon just one drink Chica preciosa” Seth noticed this from across the club aswell as Athena “I can’t drink tonight i-“ “So this is what you girls do now these days? You lead men on and can’t even accept a simple drink?” He grabbed her arm which set off alarms for the group as Seth started speaking into his earpiece alerting Cody

“We need you pulling up into the front asap, Sasha’s in a bit of a predicament” Cody sighed as he just unlocked the car “Jesus fucking christ, alright.” He groaned as Sasha was being tugged up “What the fuck? Let me go!” The guy glared and smacked her on the face “Stop being a stuck up bit-“ Randy grabbed the mans shoulder mumbling something in his ear causing him to let go while Seth ushered everyone out of the club, Sasha ran outside & saw Cody in the porsche “Sasha get in the goddamn car.” She shook her head “Fuck you I can drive myself” Cody sighed pinching the bridge of his nose “I don’t have time for this get in the fucking car” Athena drove off in Sasha’s leaving her no other choice but to get in.

The drive back home was silent & tense and once they arrived back to the mansion Cody yanked her out of the car “What the fu- Get your goddamn hands off of me!” Sasha shouted and shoved Cody off but he didn’t budge “Your a fucking pain in my ass Sasha you know that? I haven’t even been here for a full goddamn day and you already make me want to go fucking insane. Your a goddamn brat & that little stunt you pulled inside before we left wasn’t slick. I know your game & I’m not playing it.” She scoffed finally pushing him away from her “first of all you don’t ever put your hands on me, you lost that problem second of all You won’t speak to me like that because I will not allow it.” Cody sneered at Sasha “I fucking hate you.” She glared back “The feelings mutual.” She walked off clearly pissed off with him later following behind so he could go inside before the night came to an end.

For the next 3 weeks the house would be filled with Cody & Sasha arguing with each other but soon things became messy, Athena & Cody had started sleeping together but she was also a person he often vented to while she put pieces together & realized he still had love for Sasha. His emotions and adoration towards Sasha were confusing but she still knew he loved her still. One night Athena laid in his bed while she sat next to her putting on his clothes as guilt sank in that he was sleeping with one of Sasha’s close friends “This isn’t right.” He mumbled which caught Athenas ears “You realized that just now?” He turned and had a frown displayed on his face

“She drives me crazy Athena, No offense but she’s all I could think about.” She shrugged “None taken, I was waiting for one of you to say something.” He sighed running his hand through his black hair “I hate how she’s all I could think about.” Athena hummed as she put her clothes back on “it’s because she’s someone you’re supposed to be with.” He furrowed his expression & looked up at her “If I was in any committed relationship with Sasha we’d kill each other, I drive her up the fucking wall.” Athena shrugged “So? That’s the interesting part, You both hate each other so much it developed back into love and thats what makes you both resent each other even more, you both hate each other because thats all the two of you think about. You hate one another so much but yet you’d still kill for each other.”

He perked up a bit as he never thought about it that way “I love her Athena.” She hummed nodding “We all know this, You two are just too stupid to notice.” He sighed nodding before getting up “I’m gonna get water.” She hummed in approval as he left the room and made his way down into the kitchen where he was met with Sasha cleaning up the kitchen as a way to keep herself busy due to her not being able to sleep, “Didn’t expect you to be doing dishes at 3 in the morning Sash.” She hummed scrubbing away at dishes while he got himself a drink hating how the silence felt between this “I don’t want whatever this is to be like this forever.” Sasha stopped her movement “What you just expect us to start getting along and act like the world all unicorns and rainbows?” He glared and shut off the water and made her put the sponge down “No, I want us to be fucking civil, act normal.” Sasha frowned and smacked his hands away from her.

“Normal? None of this is normal Cody, I’m stuck in this shit show with you per my mothers orders, You realize your the same person who broke me? I hate you Cody, You ruined my goddamn life my forcing your perfect fucking face and hair and- and everything into my goddamn brain and giving me the love I only know & expect now. You ruined everything for me & I will forever hate you for that reason.” Sasha became choked up and started hitting him in the chest and arms and for awhile he just stood there taking it before grabbing her wrists “That’s enough Sasha!” She teared up but absolutely refused to let him see her cry, Cody let go of her arms & she back up for a minute & shook her head before walking out of the kitchen leaving him alone to his owns thoughts as he was just now realizing living under the same roof as her was almost going to be impossible to handle.

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