#you get a rare smiling El

[brokenblondeprincess]

EvilKit to El (first word) - trust

[euno11a]

Baby Girl

Pairing: DILF!Jungkook x PreSchool Teacher!Reader

Synopsis: You always gave yourself one rule, never fall for a single dad. It would be messy and you’d never be his number one. So why did your favourite kid’s dad have to be so hot?

Warnings: fluff, talks of child abandonment, single father JK, angst, arguments, smut, penetrative sex, oral (m and f receiving), light spanking, hair pulling, make outs, kissing, fingering, clit play, clit stimulation, teasing, pet names, mentions of past relationships, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, blonde!jungkook, talks of past pregnancy (not reader), mention of abortion (JK’s ex), sexual tension, alcohol consumption, thigh riding, masturbation, aftercare, swearing, praising, a bit of jealousy, hickeys, handjob, protected sex, rough and soft sex, overstimulation, and multiple orgasms 

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“Why are you trying to feed Sara the crayon!” You squealed from your spot behind your desk, swiftly approaching the small circle table holding the kids before taking the purple crayon from Ara’s tiny hands. The small girl’s large brown eyes stared back at you, a smile breaking out onto her lips as she began giggling and babbling about the drawing she made for her dad.

“Look! Daddy has a pur..pur-el shirt cebause he love pur-el!” Ara pointed excitedly to the shirt she drew on her stickfigure, pride glowing in her eyes. 

Your smile grew as your grip around the crayon loosened, placing it back down on the table, crouching between her and Sara’s little chairs. “Now that’s gorgeous, Ara! Your dad is gonna love it so much, but how about we stop trying to feed our friends crayons?” She giggled, agreeing before going back to her art. It was true, Ara’s dad, Jeon Jungkook, treasured every single thing she made for him. Every time she would run up to him after school, hands reaching up to him with a new little project every day. One day it was a flower that had things we were grateful for written on the petals, other days it was just a little drawing she made, or it was a seasonal art project. And she never failed to tell you all about his reactions the next day.

Every day you would watch all your students run to their parents coming to pick them up at lunch, most stopped to say ‘Hi’ or ask how their kid was doing - Jungkook never did that. It seemed odd at first, wanting to meet your student’s dad to introduce yourself and get acquainted was a normal thing most teachers did. However, you started noticing pretty early on he hung out near the back of the group of parents that waited near the doors, waiting for Ara, getting her, and then looking at you with a little smile before leaving. Why did he do that? The small pleas for help to get their coats on before the bell filled your classroom, the children still mingling and talking, some cleaning up their tables, but most ready to up and leave as the bell rings. After making sure all the kids had their belongings, you told them to line up, “One, two, three! Eyes on me!” You called out, watching all their little bug eyes look back at you. The small action made a smile spread across your face each time - how could it not? There are about fifteen pairs of eyes that look at you at the same time, with the same little focused expression. It’s impossible not to smile!

Everyone crowded at the door, talking in soft whispers as they waited for you to open it and let them run off to their parents. You let the children run in different directions, enjoying the happy chatter around you as people began leaving. Just as you were about to head into the school again, you felt a little tug on your sleeve, making you look down. “ Miss L/n, daddy’s not here…”

Her little voice trailed off and it instantly made you go into protective mode. You crouched in front of her, holding her small hand as you observed how her big boba eyes got glossy and her little button nose got red. It was a rare sight seeing Ara cry, she almost never did in your class unless it was something truly meaningful to her. “Shh, it’s okay, Ara. Your dad probably got caught up in something! How about we wait here until he arrives, hm?” You offered, wiping away the small tears that dropped down her cheeks, her head nodding softly as you stood up and held her hand outside. 

Twenty minutes pass and nothing. It was unlike Jungkook to be late, every day you could see his car park in the same spot under a tree, getting out and adjusting his jacket before taking a few steps…then pausing beside his car to lock it three times. Now that you think about it, you sound kinda stalker-ish with how much attention you pay to him. The air started getting cooler, so you took Ara back inside the classroom, thankful that you had an hour break before your afternoon class showed up. “Are you warm? You can take your jacket off, Ara. Do you want some paper to draw?”

Her head was tilted down as she sat in her normal seat near the cozy corner you had set up for your students, not really answering your questions. “Did daddy leave me?” She asked, her tiny fingers picking at her other ones as she asked.

Sourness filled your heart as you heard her question, you pulled out the small chair beside her, tilting your head to see her face. “Honey, of course he didn’t leave you. He’s just running late for some reason. Why would you think that?” 

“Mommy did…” Her words were cut off by sudden footsteps approaching the class quickly, a man hunched over huffing and puffing like he had just ran a marathon. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, baby.” He said, still gasping for air as he approached us, kneeling down on her other side.

Her mom left? You stood up, straightening out your cardigan as you stared down at the man pressing his forehead against Ara’s jacket covered arm. “Ara, I’m sorry, daddy had to close up the shop cause your uncles weren’t there. I’m sorry, bug.” Wow, he apologized a lot, even though Ara had already probably forgotten about what happened. Her bright little smile was there again, brightening the room as his large…tattooed hand caressed the opposite arm. 

“Daddy! Look what I made!” Ara exclaimed, showing her dad her little portrait of her and her dad, wearing his purple shirt.

“Wow, I love it, baby girl! It’s so me. You know where this is going?” The way they both said “on the fridge” at the exact same time would make any woman’s ovaries burst. It was too cute! Ara’s dad stood up, rubbing his hands on the back of his pants before looking at you, staring blankly before his eyes widened and a hand was out stretched. “Sorry! I’m Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook! Ara’s dad, cause she has the same last name as me, but not only that reason! Her mom and I-” He stopped, his cheeks tinting a light red as you grasped his hand, shaking it with furrowed brows. “I’m gonna stop talking before I make it worse.”

“No, no, please. I always enjoy hearing about how parents are related to their child.” You laughed, releasing his hand again - eyes gleaming from the way his cheeks darkened in colour again. “It’s honestly okay, Mr. Jeon. Ara and I had a feeling something came up at work and that’s why you were late.”

The sigh of relief that escaped him must have been in him for a while, his whole body relaxing a little more after you said that. “Thank you for looking after her. This won’t happen again, at all. Uhm..Ms…?”

“Oh! Sorry, Y/n. Y/n L/n, Ara’s teacher. Since she’s in my class.” You over explained just like he did, thankfully he had a sense of humor since he let out a soft breathy laugh. “Again, don’t worry at all, I understand. Things happen sometimes.” You eased him, smiling gently as he grabbed Ara’s little hand, helping her out of her chair.

“Yeah…but thank you…still.” He said one last time, leaning down to pick his daughter up before propping her on his hip. Her little hand went to his hair immediately, tugging softly as he pulled his head away, smiling at her. They left the room, chatting softly as he walked back down the hall to exit through the front office. Sitting at your desk, you opened your computer, preparing your slideshow for your afternoon class on how to make a pretty sunset with pastels, but the only thing you could think about…

He had really pretty hair.

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“Wait, wait, wait- rewind. You’re telling me that you were face to face with a DILF and did nothing?!” Rose practically yelled as you walked together down the hall towards the parking lot.

“Okay, let’s not call him that…he’s still the father of my student. It feels wrong calling him something so…vulgar?” You squeemed while fumbling for your keys. “Plus, what was I supposed to do? His kid was right there, it’s not like I could’ve just jumped his bones right there.”

She glanced at you from the corner of her eyes, a small smirk on her lips as she grabbed her own keys out of her bag. “Well, I’m just saying, maybe he would’ve been into that. Having you get all up on him, nice and close and just-” You shoved her away playfully, laughing as you watched her mimic some sort of makeout session. 

“There is no way that would've happened! Again, Rose, you’re forgetting this was the first time I’ve ever actually talked to the guy. It’s not like some magical thing is gonna happen to make us instantly fall in love.” She pushed open the doors to the front office, a shiver running down your spine as the cool breeze hit your face. You unlocked your car, standing by the driver’s door as you spoke again. “This is real life, not some romance book that’s gonna have me sweeped off my feet by the end of it.”

“Yeah, yeah…” She waved a dismissive hand, opening her car door before poking her head out again. “I’m just saying, it’s been a while for you since you’ve dated, so why not try out the awkward, DILF of a dad?”

“Have a good night, Rose.”

All you could hear was her laughter as you got in and closed your own door. 

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Mondays are the worst.

It’s almost like a sick joke - you wake up and feel like it’s gonna be a productive day, but instead, your makeup looked trashy, your favourite shirt that you were supposed to wear today had a stain on it, your coffee machine was broken, and your car wouldn’t start for a good twenty minutes.

So yeah, it’s a lovely day.

“I am so sorry, Rose! Thank you for watching over my class, I swear I’ll be there soon.” You rambled quickly, looking both ways on the road before taking a left.

“Girl, relax, it’s okay. Could you pick me up a coffee though? Didn’t have time to make my own today.” You could hear her shuffling around, probably in your desk to find the spelling sheets you had ready for your students.

“Of course, I was gonna pick one up anyway.” Your voice came out as a murmur, trying to focus on the road so you didn’t add another problem to your list of issues today.

There was some sort of sound that came from her side of the call, something between a hum and squeal of delight. “There’s one coffee place that’s not too far from the school, The Quiet Bean, reaaaaally cute place!”

The Quiet Bean? People are getting creative nowadays…After a few more minutes of talking - you telling her what she should start the kids on, and her telling you where the shop is - you finally hung up. Plugging in the address of the coffee shop, you pulled up to a small shop. It was the sort of place that invited you in without making a scene. Its façade was a blend of weathered brick and soft, taupe-painted wood, the kind that had aged gracefully, like it had stories to tell. The large windows were framed in simple, cream-colored trim, their panes reflecting the faintest light of the afternoon sun. A faint trace of ivy crept up along the edges, as if nature itself had taken a liking to this quiet little corner of the world.

The café’s sign hung above the door, a modest wooden board with the name The Quiet Bean painted in elegant, flowing script. The letters, accented by a small, delicate illustration of a steaming coffee cup, as though to beckon you inside with the promise of something warm and comforting. It wasn’t flashy, but there was something undeniably welcoming about it, something that whispered of calm moments and good company.

As you stepped closer, the faint scent of lavender and earth drifted from a row of mismatched flower boxes, their colors a soft mix of greens and purples. Small, bistro-style tables were scattered outside, their wrought-iron chairs empty for now, but ready to welcome anyone looking to enjoy the sun with a cup in hand. 

Pulling the door open, you were met with a strong scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries. Your eyes widened as you looked around, taking in the detail of the shop and taking note of every little detail that was put into building it. You slowly approached the counter, eyes trained on the display of sweets. God, they looked delicious. It was as if everywhere you turned there was something new you noticed - now, it was the simple yet captivating writing on the menu board that hung above the counter. Why was writing captivating you? Nevermind. 

You glanced around, a few people were sitting at tables, enjoying a warm coffee with a sweet treat, but no one behind the counter. Your brows furrowed softly, tilting your head to try and see if someone was lingering behind the walkway to the back of the coffee shop, but there was no one. You reached forward, tapping the small bell that sat beside one of the pastry display cases, the high pitched shrill sound making you jump slightly. 

A guy, wiping his hands on the towel that hung from his apron quickly rounded the corner. His blonde hair tied into a small bun as he looked up. Those eyes…the wide doe ones that seemed all too familiar. The ones that held the universe…where had you seen them before? “Welcome to The Quiet Bea-” The man’s voice cut off as he stood there staring at you, his round eyes widening slightly. “M-Ms. Y/n…what…you’re…”

It clicked. Those eyes, the ones you have to look at every single day, the same ones Ara had. “Mr. Jeon, it’s…uhm, hello.” Why was this so embarrassing? This was just like when you saw a teacher outside of school and didn’t know how to act. Holy hell. “Sorry…sorry, good morning.”

His cheeks tinted a light pink, the sound of him clearing his throat sounded through the small cafe, you watched him cringe from the sound. “G-Good morning…I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting…never mind.” He shook his head, a few strands of his blonde hair framing his face as he approached the cash register. “What can I get for you?”

“Just two lattes please.” You smiled, gaze wandering off to the side as you eyed the pastries again. As if on cue, your stomach rumbled, causing you to freeze and Jungkook to glance up at you from the register. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned forward on the counter, a small tilt to his head. “Did you maybe want some food, too? Our pistachio croissants are really good, if I do say so myself.”

Now it was your turn to turn pink, a sheepish smile spreading across your face as you nodded. “I’ll take two of those, too, please.” He nodded, a smile still lingering on his face as he used the tons to grab out two of the fresh croissants. Placing the bag on the counter, he turned his back to you as he started on the coffees. 

As you stood there, it was hard not to notice how wide his back was. It was the perfect size to his waist which was - surprisingly - small. And not to mention the way his shirt hugged his chest and torso, there was practically nothing left for the imagination, there was even a teasingly small amount of tattoos shown that littered his right hand, and you just knew there were more. Maybe Mondays aren't so bad. I mean, you got to see that perfect ass- okay, no. Stop it! That is still your student's dad!

He turned around, two coffees in hand as he placed them on the counter, tapping something into the register before telling you your total. You pulled out your card, tapping it on the card machine before situating yourself to grab everything. “Uh…I don’t mean to be, like, that one parent…but why is the teacher of my daughter here getting coffee when school has already started?”

“Oh, so you were one of the kids that was always on time to class.” You said with a small smile, looking down into your wallet as you placed your card back into its proper place. “I was having a bad morning, running late. But my friend, who’s a teacher as well, is watching over my class. She wanted a coffee.” You wiggled your finger at the cup, a smile on your face that wouldn’t go away for some reason. 

It was impossible not to giggle at the way his brows furrowed and his bottom lip pouted from your comment. “I was not ‘one of those kids.’” He crossed his arms, looking at you as you grabbed the coffees and bag that held your pastries. “If it means anything…I hope you have a better day.” His voice was like honey, something so sweet, you never wanted it to disappear. 

“Thank you…I hope the same for you, Mr. Jeon.”

“Please, call me Jungkook!” Even his smile was sweet…fuck.

Just as you were about to exit the shop, you turned, using your back to push the door open. “Alright then, Jungkook. And call me, Y/n…I’m not your teacher.” Your last words left him going red again, and to your unease, it was a sight you wouldn’t mind seeing again.  ______________________________________________________________

As the warm afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of your classroom, casting a comforting glow over the tidy rows of desks, Rose settled into the chair across from you, a concerned expression etched on her face. The air was filled with the faint scent of chalk and the distant hum of the air conditioning vent.

"Y/n, you're not going to tell me what's going on, are you?" Rose asked, her voice gentle but probing. You hesitated, fidgeting with the edge of the paper bag as you took a bite of your croissant. Damn they were good. They were alone in the classroom during their lunch break, the door locked securely behind them.

Rose's eyes narrowed as she watched your flustered movements. "Come on, spill it," she urged, her voice a gentle coaxing. You took another bite, your eyes avoiding Rose's inquiring gaze. "It's just...I saw Jungkook at the coffee shop this morning…Ara’s dad," you mumbled around a mouthful of food, eyes darting back to Rose.

Rose's eyebrows shot up. "That coffee shop? Where you got our lattes?" You nodded, your cheeks flushing. Rose's expression turned thoughtful as she leaned in, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "So you saw Hot DILF again?"

Your eyes widened in alarm, hastily causing you to look around the room as if ensuring they were truly alone. "Rose, please, don't say that out loud," You whispered, voice laced with a mixture of embarrassment and fear. Rose chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"What's wrong? You're not going to date him, are you?" It was almost as if this was the day you couldn’t stop blushing. Your face turned bright red as you hastily shook her head, your ponytail bobbing in time. "Of course not, I'm just...I'm just saying, he's a great guy, from what I’ve seen, but...but it's just a rule, you know?" Your words tumbled out in a rush, your voice growing more agitated by the second.

Rose's expression turned to understanding, and she reached out to place a reassuring hand on your arm. "I get it, I really do. You've always said no to dating single parents, and I respect that. But...it's just so hard when you're around him, isn't it?" Your eyes dropped, looking away, your face burning with a mix of embarrassment and longing.

Rose's gentle words hung in the air, and you felt your heart racing as you tried to process her emotions. You couldn't deny it - you had felt a flutter in her chest when you saw Jungkook, and it wasn't just because you were worried about being professional around him. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down and rationalize your feelings.

"I don't know, Rose," You said finally, voice barely above a whisper. "It's just...he's really nice, and easy to talk to...it's just hard to ignore the fact that he's Ara’s dad."

Rose nodded understandingly, her expression sympathetic. "I know, I know. And it's not like you can just...ignore the fact that he's cute, either," she added with a sly smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

You playfully rolled your eyes, trying to deflect the attention from your flustered state. "Yeah, real help, Rose. You're not making this any easier for me."

Rose laughed, her eyes shining with mirth. "Sorry, sorry. I just want you to be happy, and if that means being around Mr. Hot DILF...I mean, Jungkook...then so be it."

A smile spread across your face, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at her words. "Thanks, Rose. You're a good friend."

As they chatted, you couldn't help but think about Jungkook's warm smile and gentle laugh. You pushed the thoughts away, reminding yourself of the rule and the reasons behind it. But you couldn't shake the feeling that you had crossed a line, and that your attraction to Jungkook was more than just a harmless infatuation.

The lunch bell rang, shattering the peaceful atmosphere in the classroom. As they made their way to the classroom door, Rose leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Hey, Y/n? Just out of curiosity...what do you think would happen if you did date him?"

Your eyes widened in alarm, and you quickly shot Rose a warning glance. "Rose, don't even say that. I already told you I'm not going to date him, so let's just drop it, okay?"

Rose held up her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. No more talking about Jungkook. Let's just focus on surviving through the day and parent-teacher interviews. How ‘bout that?"

You smiled, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude towards your friend. "Sounds like a plan to me."

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The faint echo of footsteps grew louder in the quiet hallway as you straightened up at your desk, glancing at the clock. The dim lights above flickered softly, casting a warm glow that illuminated the classroom filled with colorful student artwork. It was the night of parent-teacher interviews, and your heart raced in anticipation and anxiety. Each appointment was a gateway to success and growth, but tonight felt different. Tonight, you faced the sight of a certain single father…again.

As you set out fresh papers and a cup of coffee—mostly meant to ward off your own nerves—you tried to shake off the flutter twisting in your stomach. You had told Rose you wouldn’t get involved with parents, yet here you were, feeling exhilaratingly torn between professionalism and a sudden spike of anticipation.

The gentle knock on the door pulled you from your swirl of thoughts. “Come in!” you called, your voice steadying to mask your racing heart. The knob turned, and Jungkook stepped inside, his tall figure silhouetted against the hallway light. He looked slightly rumpled in a casual white fisherman’s sweater and jeans, as if he had just finished a long day balancing work and parenting. His sandy hair fell over his forehead, giving him an endearing boyishness.

“Hi, Y/n,” Jungkook said softly, his voice low and a little shy. He shifted between his feet, running a hand through his hair, and for a moment, you felt as though the air in the room thickened with something—tension, attraction, or perhaps, an endless stream of unspoken words.

“Hi, Jungkook! Thank you for coming,” You replied, trying to maintain the professional tone you’d rehearsed in your mind. “Please, have a seat.”

He hesitated for just a moment before sinking into the chair opposite your desk, glancing around the room and admiring the colorful projects that adorned the walls. “It’s nice to see what you’ve done with the place. Ara talks about it all the time,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face that lit up his eyes. 

As you reviewed Ara’s progress report, you couldn’t help but feel Jungkook’s gaze lingering on you, like a gentle warmth wrapping around you. “She’s doing wonderfully, really. She’s bright, creative, and so full of energy,” You continued, your voice flowing with professional ease.

“That’s great to hear,” Jungkook replied, his fingers nervously tapping on the desk. “I mean… I worry about her sometimes, you know? Juggling everything has been—” He paused, biting his lip slightly as if searching for the right words. “—hard. But she loves coming to school.”

In that moment, you could see the affection etched on his face. His love for Ara was so palpable, so tender, that it made your heart swell. “You’re doing an amazing job as a father,” you blurted out before you could catch yourself. 

A flush crept into Jungkook's cheeks, and he chuckled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. I still feel like I have so much to learn,” he said, glancing away, his honesty disarming you. 

“I think it’s a continuous journey for all parents,” You replied, forcing yourself to ignore the way your heart fluttered at his vulnerability. You forced herself to focus on Ara’s achievements, highlighting the areas where she could improve.

Yet with each laugh Jungkook shared, with each genuine word of praise he offered about his daughter, you found it harder to keep your feelings at bay. The chemistry crackled between them, threatening to bridge the gap of professionalism that you had once held sacred. 

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you for what you do,” Jungkook said suddenly, a sincere expression on his face. “I feel like Ara has blossomed since she started in your class.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Jungkook,” You spoke softly, heart racing as you met his gaze. “It’s my job and my passion.”

He leaned back in the chair, taking a moment before asking softly, “But what about you? Do you… do you enjoy being a teacher?”

You nodded, feeling a stirring inside you—a mix of admiration and a desire for connection that you fought to suppress. “I really do,” you confessed. “It's a rewarding experience, but...” You hesitated for a moment, knowing your feelings threatened to slip from your grasp. “It can be challenging at times.”

“Yeah, life can be tough,” Jungkook replied, his voice low. “But I guess we all find our way through it.”

Their eyes locked for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and you felt an electric jolt, a silent understanding passing between them. But just as quickly, you pulled yourself back, focusing instead on the paperwork scattered across your desk.

“I believe Ara will continue to thrive under your guidance,” Jungkook said, attempting to break the growing tension.

“Absolutely,” You agreed, feeling the flicker of excitement mingled with anxiety. “If you have any concerns, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Jungkook smiled, the warmth in his expression making your pulse quicken, and you couldn’t help but smile back, even as reality settled back in. They were from two different worlds, tethered by the innocent bond of a daughter between them, and you knew you had to tread carefully.

“Thank you for your time,” Jungkook finally said, rising from his seat, his voice a blend of gratitude and something softer, like an unexpressed hope. “I really appreciate it.”

As he turned to leave, you felt a mix of longing and resolve. “You’re welcome, Jungkook. Have a great evening,” You managed to say, your heart heavy with unspoken feelings and the sensation of his presence lingering in the room long after he had gone. 

With a sigh, you sank back into your chair, trying to reclaim your professional demeanor, fully aware that this was only the beginning of a journey you had carefully set herself against. And yet, without a doubt, it felt exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

The echo of Jungkook’s footsteps faded down the hallway as you sat back in your chair, staring blankly at the stack of papers on your desk. The soft, dim light of the classroom wrapped around you like a cocoon, but instead of feeling comforted, your thoughts spiraled into chaotic disarray. Your heart still raced at the memory of his shy smile and the way his gaze warmed you, sending unexpected flutters coursing through your chest. 

“Okay, Y/n. Let’s think this through,” you murmured to yourself, pushing your chair back a bit to pace. You took a deep breath, holding your head high as you began your internal debate, your footsteps echoing softly against the tiled floor.

Pros:

1. He’s Kind: Jungkook showed genuine concern for Ara’s well-being; that spoke volumes about his character.

2. He’s a Good Father: Seeing how much he adored his daughter made your heart melt. A man who values family is definitely an attractive trait.

3. We Have Chemistry: The connection was palpable during your meeting, the kind that sent thrills of excitement coursing through you.

Cons:

1. He’s Ara’s Father: You would always have that complex dynamic, which could complicate everything. What if things went wrong? The relationship with Ara would be at stake.

2. Professional Boundaries: As a teacher, you reminded yourself constantly of the boundaries that existed between you and the parents. Getting involved with a parent could lead to gossip and drama.

3. Could She Actually Do This? You didn’t want to enter the dating world and find yourself getting hurt. There was so much at stake, and discretion was key. 

The rhythm of your footsteps quickened, your thoughts tumbling into a whirlwind of confusion. 

“No, no, no.” You held her temples, trying to massage away the tension that gnawed at you. “You can’t think like this. You would be crossing a line, Y/n. Your job is to inspire and educate, not fall for the parents!” 

You paused, catching your breath, feeling the weight of your emotions. “But—what if this is something special?” An involuntary smile sneaked onto your face at the thought of Jungkook’s easy laughter, the way he nervously fidgeted in his chair, and the sincere glances he offered. “What if…he’s different?”

Your heart raced again, and you bit your lip, taking another deep breath to steady yourself. You have dedicated yourself to your career. You loved teaching and the bonds you created with your students. But you also felt the longing for companionship, for someone who would truly understand your heart, your struggles, and your dreams.

You found your way back to the desk, grabbing the paper you had written notes on about Ara. It was filled with nothing but good observations and bright notes that showcased the little girl’s personality. “This is about Ara, too,” you whispered, glancing at the portrait Ara had drawn of you standing beside her at the school. You had never looked better as a stick figure.

“Could I do this?” you inquired softly, staring out the window at the fading sunlight. “Would this be fair to Ara? To him?” You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to visualize yourselves together, the gentle kind heartedness belying a deeper connection that tethered you.

Footsteps interrupted your reverie, and you looked up to see Rose peeking through the door. “Y/n?” she called softly, stepping inside. The infectious energy of her friend brightened the room. “I saw Jungkook leave. How did it go?”

Your internal debate halted as you met Rose's eager gaze, the warmth of friendship wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. “It was... interesting,” You replied slowly, trying to sort through the flood of emotions that threatened to spill over.

“What does that mean? Was he flirty?” Rose raised an eyebrow, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You shook your head, your cheeks flushing slightly. “No, it wasn’t like that. We just talked about Ara and her progress. But there’s this…connection, Rose. It’s hard to explain.”

“Do you like him?” Rose leaned forward, her excitement palpable, her curiosity evident.

“I don’t know! I mean, I shouldn’t, right?” You sighed, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “He’s Ara’s dad, and I’m her teacher. There are boundaries, Rose!”

“But do you want to explore those boundaries? You said it yourself; it’s a connection!” Rose's voice rose slightly, her enthusiasm inexhaustible. “You only live once, Y/n!”

“Why are you so supportive of this? Are you trying to get me into trouble?” You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but you felt the weight of Rose’s words pressing upon you.

“Maybe I am!” Rose teased, crossing her arms. “But look, if you feel something for him, that could be something worth exploring. Relationships don’t always lead to disaster, you know. Sometimes, they lead to wonderful things.” 

You chewed your lip, your heart fluttering at the prospect. “But what if I mess it up? What if I ruin things with Ara and her dad?”

“I think Ara would be happy if he found someone who makes him smile,” Rose asserted confidently. “And if that someone happens to be you...well, then that’s just a bonus!”

Looking down at your desk, pondering the vibrant artwork that Ara had drawn, you felt a gentle surge of hope amidst the confusion. Maybe there was a chance for something beautiful—if you could just take the leap.

“All right,” You said finally, fortifying yourself. “I’ll think about it. But I have to be careful...for Ara’s sake. And for my own.”

“Smart girl.” Rose grinned, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Now, let’s plan how to help you catch his attention.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension lifting slightly as you felt the warmth of Rose’s friendship. As they began to chat and brainstorm about playful ways to show your interest, you felt a new storm of possibility unfurling in your heart—one that you could no longer pretend to ignore. ______________________________________________________________

After leaving your classroom, Jungkook leaned against the cold, tiled wall of the hallway, taking a moment to catch his breath. The sound of his heart thudding loudly in his chest seemed to resonate in the quiet space around him. What just happened? He couldn't shake the feeling of exhilaration mingled with a flicker of anxiety as memories of their conversation flooded his mind. 

He rubbed a hand across his neck, still feeling the heat rising to his cheeks—a bashful evidence of how easily flustered he had become in your presence. Your smile, your laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about Ara—it was utterly charming. Why did she have to be so captivating?  

His thoughts immediately twisted into a flurry of whims. Honestly, how could someone be so effortlessly beautiful? Your enthusiasm about teaching resonated deep within him; he admired how you handled the classroom, how you brought warmth and light to every interaction. The way you carelessly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear made his heart flutter. He relished in the thought that you cared so deeply for his daughter; it filled him with a swell of appreciation that lingered a little too long in his chest.

But then there was that chemistry, that intoxicating vibe that seemed to hum in the air between them. Jungkook winced slightly, aware that he was entering dangerous territory. Your laugh had tugged at something deep inside him—a longing that he rarely dared to face. Could he be falling for you? The thought was both thrilling and unsettling.

His mind wandered to the moment their eyes met, the way you had smiled at him as if you were sharing a secret, a moment just for the two of them amidst the world. Thoughts he knew he shouldn’t entertain slipped through like silk ribbons, tightening around his chest. What would it feel like to hold her? To run his fingers through her hair, to pull her close and whisper sweet nothings in her ear?

Jungkook pressed his lips together, forcing the blush creeping up his neck to subside. Damn it, Jungkook. Focus on Ara! But the image of you was stubborn, filling his thoughts with mischievous imaginings—your laughter echoing in his ears, your soft, inviting gaze lingering in his mind. 

He imagined you tucked against him on a lazy Sunday morning, sunlight streaming through the window casting dappled shapes on your skin, and he couldn't help but wonder if you would look up at him in that soft, sleepy kind of way—your hair tousled, and that peaceful smile gracing your features. God, he would do anything for that smile.

His heart raced at those thoughts. Was it wrong to want more? The deeper he delved into his fantasies, the more he wondered if he could truly let someone in again. The idea of developing a connection with you was thrilling but terrifying. 

But what if it went well? What if he got to know the woman behind the teacher façade? What if they clicked like he suspected they might? A sudden image of their hands intertwined danced in his mind, the warmth radiating from your soft fingers sending shivers down his spine. He imagined kissing you—a slow, intimate exploration that left you both breathless, your hearts racing in sync.

His body reacted even to the thought, and Jungkook groaned softly, shaking his head at the direction his mind had taken. He just wanted to know more about you—the fear and the thrill of the unknown gnawing at him as he paced in place. Was he ready to join the dating world again? To risk his heart?

Jungkook glanced down the hallway, half-expecting you to appear again with that mesmerizing smile. He exhaled slowly, trying to calm the whirlwind that churned within him. You had met as teacher to parent, you were cautious in your own ways, but there was something in your gaze, the spark of possibility daring him to breach the barrier.

“Just take it slow,” he whispered to himself, trying to ignore the overwhelming desire unfurling within him like a curtain drawn back to reveal a dazzling stage. “She’s worth it.” 

In his mind’s eye, he could see your face, lit with warmth and kindness, exhibited perfectly in the classrooms where you worked magic with children. But he wanted you outside of the school, in the real world, where they could be themselves.

With another deep breath, he turned and walked away from the classroom, his heart still racing and the ambitious thoughts whirling inside his mind. The night air hit him like a splash of cold water, grounding him, reminding him that this was just the beginning of something he knew could change everything. And as he left the school grounds, he couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted to do whatever it took to make sure he saw you again. ______________________________________________________________

The restaurant was awash in golden candlelight, casting flickering shadows on the walls adorned with tasteful art. The hum of conversation intermingled with the clinking of silverware, creating a cozy atmosphere that settled around the tables like a warm embrace. Jungkook had arrived early, wearing a fitted navy sweater that accentuated his figure and dark jeans—not too formal, but just enough to speak of a thoughtful effort. Tonight was important.

He twisted his napkin nervously in his lap as he surveyed the room, his gaze darting to the entrance. How do you prepare for a date with someone you genuinely like? It had been several weeks since they started talking, gradually letting layers peel away to reveal their authentic selves, and now here they were, on the brink of something new. 

As if summoned by his thoughts, you walked in, your presence radiant in a deep emerald dress that hugged your curves and made you look effortlessly elegant. Your hair cascaded in soft waves, and when their eyes met, a bright smile danced across your lips—a smile that made Jungkook’s heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice warm and inviting as you approached the table.

“Hey! You look amazing,” Jungkook found himself saying, his cheeks warming at the earnestness in his tone. 

“Thanks! You too!” You replied, taking your seat across from him, the evening lighting casting a gentle glow on your features. 

Jungkook tried to shake off the nerves, but it was hard not to stumble over his words as their waiter arrived. “Good evening! Can I start you off with something to drink?” 

“Uh, yes! I’d like a glass of red wine, please,” Jungkook said, his hands fidgeting on the table beneath the napkin.

“Same for me,” You chimed in, your openness making it easier for him to remember how to breathe. 

As they sipped their wine and exchanged laughter, they discussed everything—their favorite movies, childhood memories, and even the quirks of teaching that made them both laugh aloud. But as the conversation flowed, Jungkook felt the slight pressure of anticipation build in his chest, the electric tension flickering like a candle in the wind.

“So, what’s been the best part of your week?” he asked, hoping to keep the conversation light while his nerves simmered beneath the surface.

You leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Well, this week we were doing some more basic spelling skills. And there was one point, where I said that our class was gonna have a small spelling bee competition against the other Kindergarten class. Ara took it a little too seriously, she started buzzing like a bee after every word she spelled.”

Jungkook chuckled, picturing the adorable scene. “Oh God, is that why she came home and couldn’t stop buzzing around? I mean, at least she’s remembering to spell more words correctly…she rewards herself by buzzing a little each time.”

“Well, she does have a great teacher,” you teased, your eyes locking onto his with that playful glimmer.

Jungkook felt the heat rushing up his neck. “I’m just trying to keep up with your class levels,” he said with a grin. 

Their connection felt tangible, fragile yet electric. Jungkook summoned his courage as the waiter returned with their meals. “It looks great. I hope it tastes great,” he said, lifting his fork, eager to divert his nervous energy.

As they began to eat, Jungkook was distraught to discover that his mouth seemed to have developed a mind of its own. “So, I was thinking maybe—I mean, if you’re interested—” he stumbled through the heavy words, glancing at her, “we could visit that new art exhibit next weekend? Or maybe a picnic? I’m definitely up for a picnic.” 

Your brows raised in surprise, a smile breaking across your face. “I’d love that! An art exhibit sounds fantastic.”

Jungkook exhaled, relief washing over him. They continued chatting, light and airy, until a relaxed silence fell between them. An idea struck him, and he leaned closer, teasingly, “You know, you’re making this date really easy. I thought I’d be sweating bullets.”

Just as the words left his mouth, careless and relaxed, he slipped. “I guess I just feel comfortable, baby girl…” 

His voice trailed off in horror as his brain caught up with his mouth. Did he really just call you that? His cheeks blazed a deep shade of crimson, eyes widening as he braced himself for your reaction.

You blinked, pausing mid-bite, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Wow, that was unexpected. Do I look like a baby girl to you?” 

Jungkook’s face burned, a thousand apologies spiraling through his mind. “I-I didn’t mean it like—! I mean, you’re—!” He stumbled over his words, rendering himself a stammering mess. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle, clearly amused, leaning forward as if to ease his embarrassment. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I kinda liked it, actually. It’s sweet.”

His initial panic spilled over into relief, but the flirty undertone hung between them, making the air around them more charged. Under the table, his heart raced as he played with the hem of his own sweater, unsure whether he was feeling flustered or exhilarated.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. “Well, um, you are adorable, so I guess it fits—just not in the way I set it up!” 

“Do you think I’m adorable, huh?” You teased, your playful confidence radiating from you. Your gaze held a challenge, one that made his heart race anew. 

“Not just adorable,” he clarified, leaning in slightly, feeling the heat of her presence. “You’re… captivating. Thoughtful. Kind. And it’s…” he hesitated, a smirk creeping onto his face, “dangerously charming.” 

You bit your lip, eyes glimmering with intrigue, every inch of your body language inviting him closer. “Dangerously charming, huh? Is that a compliment or a warning?” 

“Both,” Jungkook said, letting the tension linger in the air, a quiet challenge exchanged between them. As if he were testing the waters before diving in. “How about you tell me something about yourself that could potentially get us both in trouble?” 

This time, you laughed, and it echoed around their cozy corner of the restaurant. The flirtation was undeniable, thickening the air as they engaged in the dance of unspoken desires. Finally, it seemed like this date might indeed lead somewhere—somewhere beautifully unexpected, where the two of them could explore the chemistry that had sparked between them.

With their plates nearly empty and glasses refilled, you glanced over at him, a light blush dusting over your cheeks. Under the table, you let your foot caress up and down his calf, watching how he paused halfway through paying for the bill to look at you with a tilted head. You turned your head away, resting it in your palm as you continued your movements, hearing how Jungkook’s breathing changed from light and even to heavier and quicker.

“What’re you doing…?” He asked quietly, cheeks burning a red colour as he sunk into his chair a little more. You shrugged your shoulders, looking away again, the intensity of the situation making it hard to stare directly at him. 

The sound of chair legs scraping against the floor made you finally look back at him. His cheeks were a dark red, a hand extended towards you as he helped you out of your chair, pushing it in before slowly walking with you. A shaky hand was placed around your waist, sending tingles all throughout your body, it was clear Jungkook was nervous, but it was also clear he wanted something else. Craved something else.

“Jungkook, are yo-”

“Do you want to come back to my place?” He asked hurriedly but softly, his eyes  staring into yours as he waited for your response. “I know it’s inappropriate to ask, especially since it’s only our first date, but you just…you look really good in your dress, like, really, really good- and…and…” 

He looked as if he were about to lose his mind if you didn’t speak soon. You carefully cupped his face, brushing your thumbs along his cheeks as you spoke. “Hey, relax…it’s okay. You can breathe…” You calmed him down, his hands coming up to hold your forearms gently, taking in deep breaths. “I..I would love to…go back to your place, I mean. But…what about Ara?”

“She’s with her uncles…Namjoon and Jin promised to look after her.” He said breathlessly, his eyes looking everywhere on your face at once, taking in as much detail as possible as if he were trying to engrain an image of you into his mind.

“Am I supposed to know who those people are, or?” He shook his head, a small laugh escaping his lips as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours before pulling away.

“They’re my friends that helped me raise her. Also work at the cafe.” He mumbled, bouncing a little as he looked at the parking lot. “ I really love sharing things with you, but I’m about to lose my mind if I don’t have you soon…so…my car is over there.” He said, pointing over to a black car parked a little further away from the restaurant. 

There wasn’t a lot of time between getting in the car, the drive to his place, and getting inside his place. As soon as you stepped foot inside the threshold, Jungkook was grabbing you, needy hands grabbing at your waist as he  looked at you, quietly asking for permission to kiss you. You barely nodded before he gently pressed his lips against yours, the kiss was firm yet soft, everything you expected from him.

“God…” He whispered against your lips, cupping your face as he kissed you again, groaning from how good you were. “You’re so perfect…so, so perfect.”

A soft giggle escaped you, pulling back so you were face to face with him, “You’ve barely kissed me, how can you know I’m perfect?” You asked, following mindlessly as he dragged you to the bedroom.

“Because.”

“Because?”

“Yes, ‘because.’ Don’t ruin the moment.”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he kissed you again, lifting you slightly to place you on the bed. His hands moved to your waist, squeezing and kneading the flesh under your dress. His lips slowly moved from your lips to your jaw, peppering soft kisses all along your skin. His left hand grabbed your chin, turning your head to the side so he had more room to find the spots that made you shiver. “Your skin’s so soft, baby girl…”

The feeling of his lips latching onto your skin made you shiver, feeling the slight suction as he sucked a mark into your skin, his tongue soothing the area afterwards. He hovered above you, arms propping himself up so he didn’t squish you completely, not that you’d mind. 

“Fuck…Jungkook…” You whimpered, feeling him smirk against your skin. He pulled away, eyes meeting yours as he pressed another soft kiss to your lips. 

“Can I take your dress off?” If he wasn’t breathless before, he sure was now, panting as he waited for permission. “Please, I wanna see your pretty body, baby.”

You managed to nod, propping yourself up so he could reach back and unzip your dress. His fingers gently grasped your sleeves, pulling the forward as the top half of your dress slid off your body. The sound that left his lips made your panties damper than before, his eyes focused solely on your bare breasts. “Oh shit…no bra?”

“Didn’t have one that worked with the dress.” You replied, finding it hard to stare at him head on. Jungkook seemed to notice this, his hands cupping your face again, focusing on your eyes as he spoke softly.

“Hey, you don’t have to be embarrassed or anything…you have the hottest body ever. Like, ever. I mean, you just showed me your bare tits and I almost came.” With his admission his cheeks tinted pink, but he didn’t pay any mind to it, instead focusing on you. “If you ever feel uncomfortable, just tell me. Okay? I’ll stop right away.” 

His gaze slowly went back to your tits, his thumbs resting just under your breasts, brushing against the soft skin before fully grasping them in his hands. You let out a breathless moan, eyes fluttering closed as you relished in his touch. It wasn’t long after that he had you out of that dress and your panties, being stripped down to only his boxers himself. His face was level with your pussy, lips pressing soft kisses against your inner thighs as he edged closer and closer to the place you needed him most. 

He darted his tongue out, licking a stripe down your folds, before making contact with your clit. The moans you let out egged him on more, pressing his face further into your cunt without any care in the world. The sloppy sounds that came from his mouth on your pussy was borderline pornographic. He used his fingers to part your folds, paying as much attention to your clit as possible. After a few minutes he pulled back, taking a few quick breaths before tugging you closer to the edge of the bed. He noticed the way you were gripping the sheets, how your eyes were screwed shut in pleasure.

“Aww, are you close, baby girl? Does my good girl wanna cum?” He taunted, and all you could do was whine and nod.

Your eyes were glossy as you opened them again, looking down at him to see the bottom half of his face covered in your juices. “Please… Please, wanna cum…wanna cum for you…” You moaned, blindly reaching for one of his hands. 

He got the idea, intertwining your fingers with his as he rested them just above your pelvic bone. He nipped at your inner thigh before licking another bold stripe up your sensitive folds, sucking your clit into his mouth. His tongue flicked over it slowly, steadily changing the rhythm to a pace that would bring you to the edge in an instant. With a few more flicks of his tongue, he had you coming undone on his tongue, slurping up every little bit of juice that leaked  from your hole.

You laid on the bed, limp and breathless as you looked at him, watching him stand up straight and wipe the rest of your juices that were on his face on the back of his hand. “How’re you doing, baby?” He asked softly, kissing your cheeks a few times to make sure you were still with him. 

You hummed softly, nodding as you pushed yourself up, connecting your lips with his in a slow and sensual kiss. Your hand snaked down to his boxers, barely rubbing against his hard-on before he grabbed your wrist gently. “If you do that, I’m gonna cum. And I want to cum while I’m inside you…”

The pout that formed on your face was inevitable, but you agreed, “Fine…but next time, you have to let me return the favour.”

His smirk grew as you insinuated there would be a next time. “Fine. Next time.” He kissed you again, fingers tangling in your hair as he groped your breasts again, groaning into the kiss. “I’m never gonna get over how soft your tits are…wanna fuck them.” He panted, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

A breathless giggle escaped you, “Maybe next time…” He took the answer you gave him, kissing you once more before flipping you to be on your hands and knees, your face pressed into the mattress as he grabbed at your ass.

“Fuck, is there anything about you that isn’t perfect?” When he saw you turn your head and part your lips to respond, he spanked your cheek gently, grabbing it to massage after. “Don’t answer that.”

It almost happened too quickly, he got the condom, slipped it on and pushed into you gently, rocking his hips into yours to make sure you adjusted to him properly. His hand reached under you, cooing at you to part your legs slightly so he could play with your clit. The sensations of his fingers stimulating your clit mixed with the rocking of his cock in you, you were a lost cause. 

“Mm, f-feels…so good…” You moaned into the mattress, feeling him speed up more, probably trying to chase his own high as well. Your walls fluttered around him, making him groan deeply, leaning forward to press a kiss between your shoulder blades. “Yeah? S’my cock that good for your little pussy? Hmm? Fuck, you take me so well…”

You whined, your walls tightening more around him, that knot in your lower belly slowly becoming too much to handle. “F- fuck…K-Kook, m’gonna cum…” You said in a high pitched tone, trying to hold back for him for as long as possible.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby girl. Let go for me. I’m right there with you…” He encouraged you, thrusting into you faster as he kept rubbing your clit. Your moans melded together as you both came undone.

He kept pumping into you until he was sure you were satisfied, a gentle hand coming to your hips to stabilize you as he pulled out, listening to your soft whine. He hushed you sweetly, laying your hips down to the mattress as he quickly disposed of the used condom. He came back to the bed, curling up behind you, nuzzling his face into your neck as he breathed in your scent. 

“Mmm, you’re so pretty…” He whispered drowsily, smiling softly as he heard you giggle. He loved that sound so much.

“Sure, I look so pretty with messy hair and sweat covering my body.” You groaned, shifting to get more comfortable. It was his turn to chuckle, his arms wrapping around you tighter.

“Yes, you do.” The moment of peace was disrupted by the doorbell ringing. He furrowed his brows, looking at you before towards the bedroom door. “Give me a minute, I’ll go see who it is.” He murmured, kissing your temple softly before getting up and pulling on his boxers from before. 

He was gone for a few minutes, quiet chatter echoing through the house, but it wasn’t loud enough for me to hear. You wrapped the sheet around your body, tugging it securely around you as you got closer to the bedroom door. Then you could hear it, Jungkook’s voice stern and low, something you hadn’t heard from him before. But who was he talking to like that? And then you understood…

“I want to see my daughter.”

[tsunodaradio]

just to know you’re alive ⛐ 𝐂𝐒𝟓𝟓

THIS IS: FORMULA ONE, A MILESTONE EVENT 📀 sooner or later, it's over— carlos just doesn't want to miss you tonight.

♫ starring: carlos sainz x ex-girlfriend!reader. ♫ word count: 2.1k. ♫ includes: angst, hurt/comfort, romance. williams!carlos (contrary to the header photo, soz), breakup dynamics, character study -ish, exes to friends, yearning/pining. @hello-car-fandom requested iris by goo-goo dolls. ♫ commentary box: i'm a firm believer that iris is one of the best songs in existence. this one is short but bittersweet. :] 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

They once called him el matador. 

It was first given to Carlos’ father. The fearless rally driver who changed the game, the one who passed down his name like a wordless prayer for success. 

En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. May Carlos Sainz Jr. inherit greatness. Amén. 

And Carlos felt like he did. For a while, at least. 

When he was called in for Toro Rosso. When he moved to Renault, then McLaren. 

When he got the call from Ferrari. The maiden win, the points he clawed through hell to get, and oh. The one-two finish. 

El matador, they had called him. What strength. Facing the last curve! El matador, el matador.

It’s been a while since Carlos has felt like he deserved the title. 

They had warned him, of course, that trading red for blue would sting. There were certainly worse places to end up, worse teammates to have. But the move still sometimes felt like a papercut. One that existed just above the surface of the callouses he thought he had done such a good job of building.

The pain never drew blood, but it came close a couple of times. 

When he crashed in the Melbourne rain. When he was slapped with a grid penalty. When the commentators with their sharp teeth and fake sympathy cooed about el matador, the killer, being sent to an early grave. 

Carlos has tried to tune them out. He goes through the motions; he plays his part. He is the good driver in a midfield car, one he had yet to learn how to wrangle. Given time, he will don his overcoat and irons once again to reclaim his birthright. That is the script, the prayer, his destiny. 

Tonight, though, he is dead on his feet, and there is nowhere else in the world he can think to be. 

He shows up at your doorstep, unannounced but not unwelcome. At least that’s what he hopes as he rings the doorbell. 

Nevermind the fact he knows you keep your spare key underneath the third pot on your porch. Once, he might have had the right to break and enter. He is no longer Carlos Sainz, the boyfriend, though. 

You open your door, looking half-awake and groggy and like the most beautiful thing Carlos has ever lost. 

“Sainz,” you croak, one balled fist rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. “Am I dreaming?” 

He almost smiles. Just the sound of your raspy voice is a balm that can soothe the deepest of his worries. Even now— one failed relationship and a tentative friendship later. 

“You’re not dreaming, mi vida.” He catches himself at the last moment. It’s too late; he can’t take it back. 

Mi vida. 

His life.  

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He has the hood pulled up, just in case someone might notice him. It’s unlikely. There’s no reason for Carlos to be paying this neighborhood a visit, not when he has a triple-header ahead of him. 

He had asked his team for one night. Just one night, no questions asked, and they had let him. They had seen the fractures in his façade. They had known about the only thing that could fix it. 

You, standing in your doorway, slowly coming to your senses. You, surveying Carlos’ face like you’re searching for injuries, even though you know his aches are rarely on the surface. 

“It’s late,” you say, gaze briefly flicking over his shoulder. 

“It is.” 

“Where were you before this?” 

“Miami.” 

You let out a low sound of disapproval, one that reminds Carlos he truly has no business being here. The hour is ungodly. The invitation is nonexistent. He’s virtually nothing to you beyond an ex-boyfriend who had needed to call things off for the sake of maintaining a much more valuable friendship. 

When you hesitate and stall, your fingers curling over the door frame, he’s struck with the irrational fear that has always simmered right beneath his skin. There’s another man inside. Someone else in your life, taking up the spaces he once carved out for himself.

He wants you to be happy. Of course he wants you to be happy. If that involves finding somebody else, though— he’d much rather not know. 

In the end, you step aside, giving him just enough room to walk into the entryway. It’s cruel, but Carlos breathes a little bit easier because of it. There’s no ‘somebody else’; at least not for tonight. 

Not much has changed. Most of your furniture is still in the same place. Even the scented candles you use seem to be the same brand. “I’ll get you something to drink,” you mumble, padding barefoot into the kitchen. “Make yourself at home.” 

Carlos nearly jokes that he doesn’t have to be told twice, but the jab dies in his throat. He’s caught up by the simple act of being here, of what always feels like stepping back into a time portal. Which is to say: It is not the first time Carlos has come running to you like this. 

He’s busy scrutinizing your living room couch when you emerge with a cup of tea. “No coffee,” you say before he can protest. “It’s the middle of the night. You don’t need to be even more awake.” 

He rolls his eyes and takes the proffered cup. It bears something light and fruity, something with notes of citrus and lavender. 

“This is new,” he says, the words both innocuous and loaded. 

You stand at his side, staring at the couch as well. “I wanted to give it a try,” you respond. 

It’s not a metaphor, Carlito, he thinks to himself as he sips a little longer. It’s just a new kind of tea. 

He can’t help himself. “I liked the old one better,” he says, immediately wincing at how petty he sounds. At how ungrateful he comes off. 

You don’t dignify him with a response. It is both a blessing and a curse. 

For a long moment, the two of you just stare at the couch. There’s a lot that Carlos wants to say. Do you remember when we first bought it, how you sent me in to haggle with the vendors? Do you remember when we made love on it— for science, you had said, to test its springiness? 

He bites his tongue. He sips his drink. He mumbles a ‘thank you’ before setting it down on the coffee table, taking extra care to slide a coaster underneath the teacup. It had always been one of your pet peeves. While he’s not sure if you’ve grown out of it, he’s not about to take his chances. 

Carlos feels it, even without having to look at you. The moment you gear up to ask the question, like you’re physically pulling your arm and reeling back to punch him. It certainly feels a bit like that. Like the question you pose is the equivalent of getting socked in the gut. 

“Why are you here?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

He doesn’t respond right away. He sorts through all the possible answers, but they all feel insufficient. I don’t want the world to see me. I didn’t want to go home tonight. Even the joke he could get away with— a cheeky You know why I’m here— trips on its own announcement. 

Carlos eventually settles on “I needed a friend.” 

Off the bat, there are two lies. Friend, he had called you, like he could somehow go from calling you the love of his life to his ‘friend’ without so much of a blink of an eye. 

And needed, past tense. Like he has ever stopped needing you. 

You reward his half-honesty with a hand to his elbow. 

It’s a chaste thing, one that barely holds a candle to the dozens of touches you shared from before. The linked arms, the intertwined fingers, the mouth to heated skin. 

But Carlos has already lost so much, and he will take what he can get— 

He wordlessly rests his hand on top of yours. Doesn’t say anything. Just stands there with you in the middle of your living room, focusing on the ratty couch like it might hold answers to questions he hasn’t even begun to ask.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” you ask gently, ever so gently. “Something to eat? A change of clothes?” 

It’s laughable, how you treat Carlos like he’s something delicate. The myths and legends of his career had never phased you that much. Sometimes, he wonders what his parents might think if they were to find out that el matador could be brought to his knees by you. 

“I’m not hungry,” he manages, “and I’ve got clothes.” 

“You know where the bathroom is.” 

He does. He knows where everything is, from the toothpaste to the facial wash to the spare towels. A couple of things trip him up. A new brand of conditioner, a change to the shower curtains. But, for the most part, Carlos knows this is a soft place to land.

He wouldn’t go so far as to call it a home. It would be unfair to dub it a vacation place. 

It’s just— the closest to heaven that he’ll ever be. 

After freshening up, he makes his way to your bedroom. He vaguely feels like he’s pushing his luck, but hours ago he was halfway across the world, in a room full of people who didn’t know the first damn thing about him. And now he’s here. If it’s luck, or divine providence, it doesn’t matter; Carlos will hold on to it until it has the indents of his nails as a reminder of how badly he has wanted. 

You’re already underneath your duvet, form curled around a pillow. Back then, you were incapable of falling asleep unless you were hugging something. When it was possible, that something would be Carlos. When he was away, it had been a life-sized teddy bear he got you from IKEA. He wonders, briefly, if it’s collecting dust somewhere in the attic. 

He lingers by the door, wondering just how long he can keep getting away with this. For a heartbeat, he considers making a run for it. Being the bigger person, deleting your number, forgetting your address. 

But then you glance at him over your shoulder, your eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion. “Come to bed, Sainz,” you call, and his body moves to comply like he’s hard-wired to give you everything you could ever ask of him. 

He takes up the other half of the bed. The pillow stays between the two of you, which is something he can live with. He might call it necessary, even. 

Carlos dares to mimic you, to wrap his own arms around the pillow so that his fingers are just barely brushing against whatever part of you that he can reach. When you don’t pull away, he lets go of the tension in his shoulders. 

It feels like a scene ripped straight out of a movie. The former lovers sharing a bed. The shooting star who always landed on the ground. The affection that pulses like a living, breathing thing. 

If this were a movie, Carlos might have kissed you. 

Might have gently pulled the pillow away, closed the distance, pressed his lips against yours. It would make for a pretty picture. The salt of his tears mixing with the taste of you. The exhaustion of the years, folding somewhere in between your mattress and your sheets. 

But this is no blockbuster film, and Carlos is not the leading man everybody thinks he is. 

Instead, he’s just a man— a boy, even— hiding from the world that has broken him down. 

Take away everything, and Carlos thinks he’s still just a coward who can’t even hold your hand properly. 

This is where el matador goes to die. Not on the track. Not in front of the media. Here, with you.

The silence stretches. He assumes you’d fallen asleep, only to hear you break through the quiet as he tries to catch some sleep himself. 

“You’ve done well,” you murmur. 

He cracks open one eye. Your face is mushed into the pillow, your expression hidden from his view. He knows it’s not sleeptalk, not some random platitude to appease him. 

You mean it. 

You believe it. 

It makes him want to do the same. 

Tomorrow, Carlos will try to make amends. He will treat you to lunch. He will tell you the lavender tea was not that bad after all. He will leave as quietly as he came, with no empty promises of a return or half-hearted attempts at ‘trying again’. 

He will love you his whole life, because you once called him mi vida, too. ⛐

[woso-story]

Jealousy

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The atmosphere at Manuela’s was infectious, a perfect blend of victory euphoria and celebratory chaos. Barcelona had just crushed Real Madrid in the El Clásico, and the entire team felt unstoppable. Drinks flowed freely, laughter echoed, and the dance floor was packed with swaying bodies. Even Alexia, ever the captain, usually disciplined during the season, had been coaxed into having a drink or two thanks to Mapi’s relentless insistence.

“Come on, Capitana,” Mapi had teased earlier, nudging Alexia with a cheeky grin. “One drink won’t kill you. Live a little!”

And against all odds, Alexia had agreed, the sight of her relaxed and laughing with a drink in hand as rare as the team losing on home turf. She didn’t stray far from you at first, dancing with her arms loosely around your waist, her fingers brushing against yours as the two of you swayed to the rhythm of the music.

“See? This isn’t so bad,” you teased her, pulling her into a spin.

Alexia’s laugh was soft, barely audible over the thumping bass, but it was real. “It’s tolerable,” she conceded, her lips curving into a small smile.

After some time, though, Alexia excused herself to find some quiet, heading to a booth on the edge of the bar with a glass of water. She didn’t mind letting you have your fun; she loved watching you light up, carefree and full of energy. For a while, she was content to sit back and observe, her eyes following your every move as you twirled and danced with Mapi, Patri, and a few others.

But slowly, one by one, the others left the dance floor, retreating to catch their breath or refill their drinks. When they returned to the booth, Alexia’s gaze flicked between them, her brow furrowing.

“Where’s Y/N?”

Mapi shrugged, stretching her arms out along the back of the booth. “Still dancing, I think. That one’s got endless energy.”

Alexia’s lips twitched with amusement, but when she turned back to the dance floor, her expression froze. You weren’t dancing. You were talking to someone—another woman Alexia didn’t recognize.

You were laughing.

Not just a polite chuckle, but a full-bodied laugh, the kind that made your eyes sparkle and your shoulders shake. Alexia’s stomach churned as she watched the woman lean closer, whispering something in your ear that made you grin even wider.

She set her water glass down a little too forcefully, earning a questioning glance from Patri.

“You good?” Patri asked, cocking her head.

“Fine,” Alexia replied shortly, her eyes never leaving you. She watched as you and the woman moved to the bar, still talking, still laughing. The sight made her chest tighten, jealousy bubbling up despite her best efforts to tamp it down.

For several minutes, she tried to stay put, telling herself it was nothing. You were just being friendly. But the way you leaned against the bar, your body language open and easy, made it impossible for Alexia to relax.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’ll be back,” she muttered, standing abruptly.

Mapi raised an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”

“To get Y/N,” Alexia said shortly, already striding toward the bar.

You didn’t notice her approach at first, too engrossed in whatever story the woman was telling you. Your laughter rang out again, and Alexia’s jaw clenched.

When she reached you, her hand closed around your arm, firm but not rough, and you turned to her with a look of surprise.

“Lex?”

She didn’t respond, simply tugging you away from the bar and out the front door. The cool night air hit your skin as she led you a few steps away from the entrance, finally stopping to face you.

“What the hell, Alexia?” you asked, still reeling from the sudden exit.

“Who was that?” she demanded, her voice sharp.

“Who was who?”

“The woman you were talking to,” Alexia clarified, her eyes narrowing. “At the bar. Who was she, and why were you laughing like that?”

You stared at her, dumbfounded. “Wait…are you jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” Alexia said quickly, but the redness creeping up her neck betrayed her.

A grin tugged at your lips, and you struggled to keep your laughter in check. “Lex…”

“It’s not funny,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“It’s a little funny,” you countered, stepping closer to her. “Baby, you don’t have to feel threatened. She’s just the owner of this new café I’ve been going to. We’ve chatted a few times when I’m there. That’s all.”

Alexia’s expression softened slightly, but her jaw was still tight. “I’m not threatened,” she muttered, though her voice lacked its earlier edge. “You’re mine. Nothing’s going to change that.”

“And I think it’s adorable that you think I’d ever want anyone else,” you said, your tone gentle but teasing. You leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek, your lips brushing against her flushed skin. “I love you, Alexia. No one could ever compare.”

Her shoulders relaxed at your words, and she let out a small sigh. “I wasn’t jealous,” she insisted, though the corners of her lips twitched upward.

“Of course not,” you teased, taking her hand in yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Now, come on, let’s go home. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Alexia hesitated for a moment, her gaze lingering on yours, before she nodded. “Okay.”

As the two of you walked hand in hand toward the car, the tension from earlier melted away. The night had been full of unexpected twists, but one thing remained constant: Alexia’s love for you—and yours for her.

[misswynters]

Getting married to ekko

short drabble

requested by anon

There was a rare kind of joy that managed to push through the usual grime and chaos. Strings of mismatched lights. Some flickering, others glowing bright, were strung across the open square near the hideout. The firelight children had scavenged scraps of cloth and patched them together to create banners, their uneven stitching adding a charm no fancy Piltie celebration could ever replicate.

In the middle of it all, you stood on a small platform that the Lost Children had hastily constructed. Your dress wasn’t traditional, it couldn’t be. It was a creation, crafted lovingly by Zaunite hands. Pieces of old fabric, some shimmering with oil stains, others dyed in vibrant hues, came together to create something uniquely yours.

Ekko stood opposite you, his usual bravado tempered by something soft and awed. He wore his best—a patched-up jacket you’d once teased him about because he refused to throw it away. But it was clean, and you knew it meant something for him to wear it today. His hair was neatly made, the streaks of white bright against the locks. He had a grin on his face that was wide, even as he tried to play it cool.

Scar, who had appointed himself officiant, stood between you two. His wiry frame looked almost regal in the dim light, though his crooked grin betrayed his usual cheekiness. “Alright, settle down!” he called out to the gathered crowd of children and a few adults who had wandered in, lured by the unusual festivity. “We’re here for somethin’ special tonight. None of your usual fightin’ or stealin’, this is about family.”

The children, sitting cross-legged around the square, erupted in cheers. You caught Ekko’s gaze, and the two of you shared a smile, the kind that spoke of shared dreams and whispered promises.

Scar cleared his throat dramatically. “Now, I ain’t exactly licensed or whatever it is those Pilties do, but who needs paperwork when you’ve got love, right?” The crowd laughed, and he winked at you. “So, let’s get to it. You two got somethin’ to say?”

Ekko took your hands, his palms calloused and warm against yours. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles as he looked at you, his voice steady but soft. “I never thought I’d get to have somethin’ like this,” he began. “Not here, You—you’ve made me believe that we can make anything, even in grimy place. You’re my balance when the world feels too heavy, my fire when it’s too cold. I promise, no matter what comes, I’ll always fight for us.”

You felt your chest tighten, your heart swelling as the words you’d wanted to say fought to escape. “Aww!,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You’ve shown me that even in a place as broken as Zaun, there’s beauty worth fighting for. You’ve given me hope, and I want to spend every day proving to you that you were right to believe in us. I’m yours, forever.”

The children cheered again, but Scar waved them down with a grin. “Hold on, hold on! We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” He nodded to a group of children at the side, who scrambled to their feet. The youngest among them, a tiny girl with oversized goggles slipping down her nose, held a small wooden box. She marched forward with all the seriousness of someone tasked with an important mission. Ekko knelt to her level, his grin widening as she opened the box to reveal the ring he’d made.

It wasn’t like any ring you’d ever seen. The band was crafted from a piece of scrap metal, polished until it gleamed faintly in the light. Set into it was a shard of green crystal, likely salvaged from some forgotten Zaunite machine. But the real magic was in the delicate etchings along the band—tiny gears and vines, symbols of growth and movement intertwined. It was unmistakably Ekko’s work, a reflection of his resourcefulness and heart.

“You made this?” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the ring as he slid it onto your hand.

“Course I did,” he replied, a hint of bashfulness creeping into his voice. “Nothing else felt good enough for you.”

Scar clapped his hands together, breaking the moment with his usual exuberance. “Alright, lovebirds, that’s it! You’re officially stuck with each other.”

Laughter and applause erupted as the children threw bits of torn paper and confetti into the air, creating a chaotic, colorful storm around you. Ekko pulled you into his arms, his laughter mingling with yours as the two of you spun in the midst of it all.

The celebration that followed was as Zaunite as the ceremony itself. Someone had rigged a broken radio to play static-filled music, and the children danced wildly, their joy infectious. A few of the older kids brought out food, whatever they could scrounge together. As the mismatched feast was laid out on a long, uneven table.

Ekko never strayed far from your side, his hand lingering on your waist or your fingers brushing against his arm. At one point, he leaned close, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You know, for a thrown-together wedding in the middle of Zaun, this might be the best day of my life.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Might be?”

“Okay, fine. Is the best day,” he admitted, his grin softening.

As the night wore on and the children began to drift off, Ekko led you to a quiet corner, away from the noise. The lights overhead flickered, casting his face in warm, uneven purple shadows. “Hey,” he said, his tone still soft. “Can’t believe we are official married now!”

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek. “Unreal that i can officially call you my husband.”

For a moment, the chaos of Zaun fell away, and it was just the two of you. Two survivors, two dreamers, building something beautiful in the midst of ruin. And as he kissed you, the city seemed a little brighter, and the air a little lighter.

note. if there’s any mistakes let me know!

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @annybah @niredsw @stqrlxght @kriss-w @marilovz @blkmystery @multiverse-fandoms-2001 @turquoizxe @mishellii @kor-0suu @feelya @theamazingmilli @multim00n @m00nd0v3 @sodavrr @maialublmere @radtragedyarcade @spiderhook @night-fall-moon

banner. @anitalenia

[cheriedivine]

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | chapter 4

previous | chapter 4 | next

꩜ synopsis: you’re best friends. just best friends. except when she lingers a little too long at your door. except when she calls you her favorite, and it doesn’t feel like a joke. except when her fingers graze yours and neither of you pull away. except when you start to wonder if she’s wondering, too…

꩜ Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (no use of y/n)

꩜ CW: swearing, mentions of smoking, tension, yearning (lmk if i missed any)

꩜ WC: 9.7K (UMMMMM)

꩜ A/N: this is a LONG ASS chapter, and holy fuck it is some chapter, i’m edging yall atp. (if u caught the jackieshauna reference i love u)

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

Since the shopping trip with Ellie—and all the unspoken tension that came with it—Friday flew by. The diner was as packed as ever, but with Maria’s guidance, you held things down. Before you even realized it, you’d survived your first week as assistant manager. You gave yourself a well-deserved mental pat on the back.

Back at your apartment, Sally was nowhere to be seen. You figured she was probably out with her boyfriend, which meant you had the place to yourself. Heaven. You took your time unwinding—long shower, softest pajamas, candles lit, and the warm flicker of the TV glow filling the room.

You curled up on the couch with dinner and a dumb sitcom playing in the background, halfway through your meal when it hit you: you hadn’t texted Ellie all day. That was... rare. But understandable, with the week you’d both had—her prepping for the gala, you juggling work.

You reached for your phone and opened her contact.

“Hey there, how’s everything going?”

Her reply came seconds later:

“helloo, sorry I've been arranging all my shit for tomorrow, hbu?”

“Just chilling, long day. Glad it’s finally the weekend.”

There was a short pause before the next message came.

“Can I be honest for a sec? I’m kinda terrified about tomorrow.”

That one made your chest ache a little. Ellie always had a hard time accepting good things—like she didn’t deserve them, or worse, like she might mess them up before they could even begin.

You didn’t waste time replying:

“I get it, Els. But you’ll do amazing as always—and you’ll look hot while doing it, so there’s really no need to worry.”

Ellie stared at the message a little too long. Her stomach twisted—but this time, not from nerves.

It was almost midnight. You yawned, stretching out.

“You should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow. We don’t want you walking around like a zombie out there.”

She smiled, already feeling lighter.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sleep deprivation is getting to me. I’ll pick u up tomorrow at 6pm sharp.”

“Yes ma’am. Goodnight, Ellie ;)”

“Night :)”

She tossed her phone onto the bed and groaned, flopping backwards like gravity was suddenly ten times heavy. “What am I doing?” she muttered to no one. Eventually—after flipping around and staring at the ceiling like it held answers—she finally drifted off, all her worries vanishing away. Tomorrow would be a whirlwind.

Late morning sunlight cut through her curtains, hitting her square in the face. Ellie groaned, eyes scrunching shut before she blinked awake, freckles bathed in warm light. She sat on the edge of the bed, hair sticking up in every direction, she rubbed the sleep off her eyes, staring at the neatly folded clothes on the armchair—laid out with unusual care the night before.

White button-up. Black slacks. Blazer. Loafers, cleaned and polished. She made her way to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, blinking at herself in the mirror. Wide-eyed. Awake now. After that she headed to her small kitchen, grabbing some milk and cereal for breakfast. Could never go wrong with it.

Her camera bag was sprawled on the small dining table, along with all the equipment she had already double checked, but would probably check it again later. She’d charged all her batteries, packed backup lenses, made sure she had her extra SD cards— She could do this in her sleep. Still, her leg bounced as she sat, stomach tightening.

This wasn’t just another gig. It was the gig. The one that could open doors, land her work in bigger publications, finally get her name out there in the way she always said she didn’t care about. But now that it was here, she did care. A lot.

And then there was you.

Her chest tightened at the thought of seeing you in that dress. Standing beside her. Laughing. Maybe letting your arm brush hers like you always did, like you didn’t even notice it anymore—though she always did. You were going to be there. Looking…well. However you were going to look, it would be stunning. You always looked good no matter what.

But tonight? In a dress? At her side? Ellie felt like she needed to lay down. Again.

She needed to stop these thoughts, you probably weren’t even thinking about her like that. Shit maybe, you didn’t even notice it. But the truth is, you noticed. Every little detail. The way her eyes glistened when she saw you, or her nose scrunched just a bit when she laughed. It made her feel like an idiot, but she couldn’t bring herself to face… whatever this was.

She ran her hand through her hair and stood up, forcing herself to move. Shower. That would help. Hot water and routine. Maybe call Joel too.. She peeled off her hoodie, grabbed a towel, and headed into the bathroom. But the second the water turned on, her thoughts spiraled again.

What if you looked too good? What if people thought you were her date? Worse—what if they didn’t?

What if you felt out of place? What if you regretted coming?

“Get it together, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered, scrubbing her hair like it personally offended her. “It’s just a job.”

But even as she said it, she could already picture the way your eyes would light up when you saw the venue. Or how you’d lean in to whisper something, your shoulders brushing hers.

Her stomach flipped.

She got out of the shower and dried off quickly, throwing on a clean shirt and boxers before stepping back into her room. Her phone buzzed with a text. It was you.

“Morning sunshine. Ready for the big day?

Ellie smiled, thumbs hovering.

"I’ve been triple checking all my equipment since last night, I think I'm getting there."

You smirked at the message, still laying in bed, too warm to get up.

“Well, if it makes you feel better I already looked up pictures of the venue and the fundraising and everything”

“lol, you’re a weirdo”

“u love it”

You tossed your phone to the side, finally getting out of bed, saturdays were always for slow mornings, you didn’t care about waking up early. The apartment was quiet as usual, just the sounds of the outside world, and the soft hum of the tv in the living room.

Sally sat curled on the couch, coffee in hand. “Morning. There’s still some in the pot.”

“You are an angel.” you replied, heading to the kitchen counter and pulling your favorite mug out of the small cabinet, the mug felt warm in your hands, steam blowing out of the dark liquid. You joined Sally at the other end of the couch. Both of you falling into the usual chatter, tv playing in the background with some news channel. You really enjoyed Sally’s presence, even if both of you were extremely different, you got along well.

You made some actual breakfast (which was more of a brunch considering the time) and ate it on the table, gossiping every now and then or just doom-scrolling on your phones. You checked the time and it was almost 3p.m., time to start getting ready. Standing up you excused yourself off the table and dropped both plates on the sink, heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth and do your skincare routine.

Sally hung in your room for a bit, helping you get your hair done, tossing it into rollers that made you look ridiculous—but she swore the blowout would be worth it. You trusted her.

Barely.

Still, your brain kept drifting. Would Ellie think you looked good? Was it too much? Too little?

Your overthinking wasn’t helping at all. You reached for your makeup bag and started applying your foundation with a soft brush, blending it carefully all over your face, while a playlist hummed from Sally’s phone, you continued applying more products while she did your hair, it was almost therapeutic.

Meanwhile, Ellie stared at her open closet like it was some kind of puzzle she couldn’t solve.

The button-up was already laid out—crisp white, freshly ironed. Beside it, black slacks and the blazer she wasn’t sure looked cool or like she was going to a job interview. She adjusted the sleeves again for the fifth time, then stepped back like that would somehow make the outfit look better.

This was stupid. It was fine. It was neutral and professional and not trying too hard. Except… her brain wouldn’t stop poking at the same thought over and over again: What if you looked at her and didn’t feel anything at all?

She huffed and ran a hand through her hair, combing it with her fingers.

There was nothing else to tweak about her camera bag. She’d gone over every lens, every battery, every backup memory card like a maniac. Her whole gear kit was triple-checked, zipped up, and ready to go by noon. Which meant the rest of the day was just… waiting. And spiraling.

She sat on the edge of her bed, fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve, before grabbing her phone. She dialed Joel’s number.

“Hey kiddo, everything alright?” His voice was warm, grounding.

“Hey Joel... yeah. I guess. Just a little nervous about this gig I’ve got later. It’s kinda a big one.” She tugged at her shirt hem as she talked.

“You mean that fancy fundraiser thing? Where you gotta play nice with the rich folks?” He chuckled.

“Yup. That’s the one.”

“Thought you said you weren’t worried about that?”

“I wasn’t. Now I am.”

Joel was quiet for a beat. “This about the gig... or the girl?”

Ellie groaned. “Don’t start.”

“Can’t help it. You’ve only mentioned her about two dozen times.”

“She’s coming as my plus one,” Ellie muttered. “Not—like—not a date. Just… kind of.”

Another chuckle. “Ellie, I’ve seen you more relaxed on a rooftop during a thunderstorm. You sure you’re just nervous about the photos?”

She went quiet.

“Look,” Joel said, his voice softer. “You’ve done way harder things than dress up and take pictures. You’ve worked your ass off. You deserve this. And from what I’ve seen, that girl’s lucky to be standin’ next to you tonight.”

Ellie rubbed her forehead. “I just… don’t wanna mess it up.”

“You won’t. You’re gonna knock it outta the park. Just be yourself. Take the shots. Let yourself enjoy it. And maybe—if the moment’s right—don’t be afraid to tell her how you feel.”

But that’s the thing. Ellie didn’t know how she felt. And it was killing her inside.

Ellie gave a breathy laugh. “Now you’re pushing it.”

“Maybe. But sometimes you need a little push. I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

She smiled, a quiet warmth settling in her chest. “Thanks, man.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

She hung up, feeling just a little calmer.

She laid back down, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, it was still early to pick you up, so she decided to have a smoke, maybe that would relax her a bit. She leaned against the window, cigarette burned between her fingers, smoke curling lazily toward the sky.

She took a drag, exhaled slowly, watching the smoke dance in front of her.

You were probably finishing your makeup, or fixing your hair. Maybe pacing. Maybe not even nervous at all. That made her stomach twist worse.

“This is so stupid,” she muttered to herself, flicking ash onto the pavement. “It’s not even a date. Just work, a big one.”

Except it wasn’t just work. And it did feel like a date. Because you’d said yes. Because you were getting dressed up—for her. And that meant something.

She finished the cigarette, stomping the butt on the ashtray by her bedside. Then she glanced at the time.

5:30 PM.

“Shit.” she grabbed her camera bag, along with the case that contained her tripod and stepped out the door.

You smoothed your palms over your dress for the fifth time.

Sally was standing behind you in the mirror, carefully removing the last roller from your hair like she was defusing a bomb. “Okay,” she said, voice hushed with reverence. “Turn around.”

You did. Slowly.

And when she beamed—hands clutched dramatically to her chest—you knew she wasn’t faking it.

“Oh my god. Babe. You look hot. Like... ruin-a-man’s-life hot.”

You laughed, nervously adjusting the straps. “It’s not too much?”

“It’s perfect,” she said, tugging your hands away from your waist. “Stop fidgeting. Ellie’s jaw is gonna hit the floor.”

You tried to play it off with a shrug, but your heart was pounding. You’d never gone all out like this—not for a date, not for anyone. But tonight? You didn’t want to just look nice. You wanted to look like someone Ellie couldn't look away from.

Back in your room, you added the final touches. Lipstick. Perfume. Earrings that caught the light. You stood in front of the mirror, hands on your hips, trying to steady your breathing.

“You’ve got this,” you whispered to your reflection. “It’s not a date. It’s just... a gala. With Ellie. Who is your best friend. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. You were spiraling.

What if you were overdressed—or worse, underdressed? What if she looked at you and saw right through you? Saw all the messy, fluttery feelings you kept trying to shove into the background?

The knock on the door snapped you out of it.

Sally opened the door, greeting Ellie politely, like she had done before.

“She’s just adding the final touches—” Sally said as she let Ellie in the apartment “she’ll be out in a second, have fun at the gala” and with that she disappeared into her room. Ellie sat on the couch, hands clammy, hair tied in a half up, half down bun. Suddenly she heard your voice down the hall.

“Sorry, I was battling with these earrings but I’m all done—” Your gaze hadn’t met hers yet, but when it did, the world narrowed to one thing: her.

Ellie stood there, hands stuffed into her pockets, blazer sharp, button-up crisp. But that wasn’t what stopped you cold.

It was the look on her face.

Like she’d just forgotten how to speak.

Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “…Wow.”

You laughed under your breath. “Good wow or bad wow?”

She blinked hard, eyes dragging down the length of you and back up like she was trying to memorize every detail. “Good wow,” she said, finally. “Like… insanely good. Holy shit.”

You bit your lip to hide your smile.

She scratched the back of her neck, looking helpless. “You, uh… you clean up nice.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you teased. “Very professional.”

“Good,” she muttered. “’Cause I’m gonna be winging the hell out of this.”

You both laughed, the tension breaking slightly—but the air between you still buzzed with something you refused to address.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then Ellie glanced sideways at you, her voice softer. “Seriously… you look incredible.”

And you—despite your best efforts—blushed. “Thanks, El.” you said, eyes falling into the poorly tied tie around her neck. It made you giggle.

“Ellie,” you breathed out a laugh, stepping closer. “What the hell is this?”

“I know, I know,” she groaned, hands raised in surrender. “I watched three YouTube videos and still managed to screw it up. It’s cursed.”

“Come here,” you said, tugging gently at the fabric.

She swallowed hard as you stood close—close enough to smell your perfume, to see the tiny shimmer of highlighter on your cheekbones.

Your fingers worked quickly, but your eyes kept flicking up to hers. “You really didn’t have anyone growing up to teach you how to do this?”

“Joel wears bolo ties,” she muttered. “The man’s useless in the formalwear department.”

You giggled and kept tying.

Ellie couldn’t focus on anything. Not your hands, not your lips, not how soft your voice got when you whispered, “There we go. All fixed.”

She looked down at you. You looked up at her.

And for a second, everything stilled. The hallway faded. The air crackled with electricity.

Neither of you moved.

Then you gave her tie one last tug, playful but firm. “Okay, now you look like you know what you’re doing.”

She cleared her throat, stepping back. “Cool. Cool, yeah. You, uh. Ready to go?”

You nodded, clutching your purse, heart pounding in your chest.

Sally popped her head out from her bedroom. “Don’t you two look fancy. Have fun and don’t let the rich people steal your souls.”

“Noted,” Ellie said with a salute. You waved goodbye and stepped out into the doorway beside her.

Your fingers brushed as you walked side by side. Neither of you pulled away.

The drive started quiet. Ellie’s truck hummed steadily down the road, golden hour casting everything in that honey glow. You sat with your hands folded in your lap, legs crossed at the ankles, feeling the nervous heat spread through your skin like your body couldn’t decide if it was freezing or burning up. Maybe both.

Soft music played from the speakers—something chill and vaguely indie, the kind of playlist Ellie always had on in the background but never skipped a single song from.

You fidgeted nervously with the zipper of your purse, pulling it up and down, up and down, the faint zip sound filling the silence in between the songs. Meanwhile, Ellie’s fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel, pinky twitching, ring finger drumming.

You caught her stealing a glance.

Quick. Like she hadn’t meant to.

But she did. And you did too.

You turned your head slightly, eyes meeting hers for half a second before she snapped them back to the road. The corner of her mouth twitched like she was fighting a smile.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

Then Ellie cleared her throat. “So uh… the venue’s downtown, just off Main. It’s at this weird, bougie museum-turned-ballroom thing. Pretentious, honestly.”

You laughed gently. “Sounds perfect for you.”

“Oh, 100%,” she nodded, finally letting out a real smile. “Nothing says Ellie Williams like white wine and too many people pretending they’ve read The New Yorker.”

You grinned, relaxing into your seat a little more.

The car turned onto a wider avenue. The sun had started to dip behind the skyline now, streaking the sky in lavender and rose. You could still feel her sneaking glances—watching you when she thought you weren’t paying attention. Your hands. Your legs. The way your lips moved when you smiled at something on the radio.

Her knee bounced.

Your heart did too.

You turned slightly, voice softer now. “You okay?”

Ellie nodded quickly, eyes on the road. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just…” She exhaled through her nose, then gave you a sideways glance. “A little nervous.”

You smiled shyly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “You’re going to do amazing Ellie, there’s no need to worry.”

The tension softened—but it didn’t go away. It just shifted. Only if you knew that the thing making her nervous was you in that dress…

The closer you got to the venue, the more your stomach fluttered. Ellie turned onto a side street, passing a long line of fancy cars parked in front of the tall glass-and-marble building up ahead.

People in gowns and suits walked across the entrance plaza under strings of lights, the early evening glow making everything look like a scene out of a movie.

Ellie pulled into a parking spot a few blocks away, engine cutting out. Neither of you moved for a second.

She looked over at you again, this time slower. A little longer. “Ready?”

You nodded, voice quiet. “Yeah.”

You both stepped out of the truck, feet clicking softly on the pavement.

Ellie walked a half-step ahead of you as you made your way toward the venue, but she kept glancing over her shoulder to make sure you were close behind. Your dress swayed with every step, catching the soft breeze, and Ellie—despite the nervous buzzing in her chest—managed to hold the door open for you like it was second nature.

The moment you stepped inside, your breath hitched.

“Holy fuck,” you murmured.

The lobby alone looked like something out of a dream—gleaming marble floors, tall arching ceilings wrapped in soft, golden light, modern art installations scattered between sculpted pillars. A string quartet played somewhere deeper inside, the music echoing through the open space like silk in the air.

Ellie let out a low whistle next to you. “Jesus. This place is… yeah.”

You both stood there for a second, completely still, like tourists in a museum too fancy to touch anything. And for a moment, it didn’t matter that Ellie was here to work, or that this was technically a fundraiser gala. It just felt like the two of you had stumbled into someone else’s glamorous night.

She turned to you, lips parted to say something, but stopped herself. Her eyes flicked down your figure and back up again—slow, deliberate, a little dazed.

You blinked at her. “What?”

She shook her head, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Nothing. Just—hope you’re ready to be the hottest person in the room.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed. “Please. I’ve never seen anyone look better in a suit.”

Ellie laughed, tugging at said blazer like she’d just remembered she was wearing it. “Alright, alright. Let’s find the event coordinator so I can check in. Then we’ll scope out the best free food.”

You gave her a mock salute. “On it, boss.”

Ellie led the way deeper into the venue, camera bag slung confidently across her shoulder now, while her other hand gripped the tripod case firmly, shoulders squared like she was finally slipping into her zone. But every few steps, her hand would twitch like she wanted to reach for you. Every time someone walked by and glanced at you both, she’d glance back—just a second too long. Protective.

You couldn’t stop glancing either.

She looked like someone out of a magazine—tie straight now, eyes focused, jaw clenched just enough to make your heart jump. The same Ellie you knew, but sharper, more composed, like she didn’t realize the effect she had on you.

The ballroom was even more breathtaking up close. Tall arched windows framed the setting sun, casting soft golden light across linen-covered tables topped with elaborate floral arrangements and flickering candles. Staff moved like clockwork, setting wine glasses, placing silverware, adjusting napkins folded like origami swans. It reminded you somehow of the diner, but way less fancy.

Ellie scanned the room quickly, eyes sharp behind her lashes. “There she is.”

You followed her gaze to a woman in a sleek pantsuit, clipboard in hand, giving instructions to a cluster of servers. Ellie straightened her posture and motioned for you to follow before approaching with practiced ease.

“Hi, Eva is that right?” Ellie said, offering a small but confident smile. “Ellie Williams, photographer.”

Eva turned to her with a brisk nod and a once-over glance at her equipment bag. “Perfect. Glad you’re here on time. We’re expecting guests to start arriving within the hour. You’re cleared to shoot during the cocktail hour, dinner, and key speeches. Avoid flash during performances or when people are eating.”

“Got it,” Ellie said, already mentally running through the list. “Any VIPs I should keep an eye out for?”

“The keynote speaker—Dr. Rosalind Carter. She’ll arrive closer to seven. And the foundation’s director, Mr. Bennett, and of course Dr. Anderson, he will want a group photo with the board around dessert. I’ll flag you when it’s time.”

“Cool. Mind if I set up now?”

Eva nodded and gestured toward the far end of the room, near the stage. “There’s a designated corner for your gear and charging station. If you need anything, I’ll be by the entrance.”

With that, she disappeared into the controlled chaos.

Ellie exhaled through her nose. “Alright. Showtime.”

You trailed behind as she headed to the gear table, helping her unpack her bag and started working in focused silence. Out came two camera bodies—one with a wider lens, one with a longer zoom—followed by her trusty light meter, extra batteries, a pouch of memory cards, and a tripod she tucked discreetly behind a curtain near the back.

You watched her slip seamlessly into her element, eyes sharp, fingers steady. She checked her white balance, adjusted her strap, wiped a smudge from her lens, and held one camera up to her eye, framing a test shot of you.

“Hey!” you muttered under your breath.

She glanced over, smirking slightly. “What?”

“Focus on the real celebrities here”

Ellie blinked at you, she knew what she was doing. A little pink crept up her neck, but she tried to play it cool, swapping cameras like it was no big deal. “Yeah, well. I needed to test the lens.”

You laughed and leaned against the nearest table, still watching her move—focused, grounded, magnetic.

The ballroom started to fill slowly as the first guests arrived—well-dressed couples stepping through the main doors, the soft hum of classical music weaving through their chatter. Ellie slipped her camera over her shoulder and gave you a quick look.

“I’ll be around. Try not to fall in love with any rich assholes while I’m gone, alright?”

“How could I?” You rolled your eyes, but she was smiling as she turned and walked into the crowd, lens raised, already disappearing behind a group of socialites in tailored suits.

You wandered toward the refreshment table, a glass of something bubbly in hand—not quite champagne, not quite soda—trying not to look out of place as the room filled with soft laughter and swishing fabric. The guests were glamorous in that effortless kind of way. It was clear who belonged here… and who felt like they were just tagging along.

Still, you held your head high and smiled politely at anyone who made eye contact. Fake it till you make it, right?

“First gala? Never seen you before” a voice said beside you—smooth, warm, a little amused.

You turned, nearly spilling your drink when you caught sight of the broad-shouldered woman in a tailored black tux with her blonde hair pulled back in a braid. She looked like she’d stepped straight out of a magazine ad for expensive cologne and probably lifted weights for fun.

“Uh—yeah, kind of obvious, huh?”

She smiled, teeth sharp. “Nah, you’re pulling it off. Most people don’t know how to stand near the wine table without looking like they want to run away.”

You laughed, grateful for the ease in her tone. “I’m doing my best. You a regular at these things?”

“More than I’d like,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “My dad hosts these every year. Fundraising, networking, all that jazz.”

Wait.

“Wait—your dad is…?”

“Dr. Anderson,” she said with a small, self-aware bow. “Abby.”

You blinked. “Oh. Wow. Nice to meet you, Abby.”

She smirked. “You too. And you are…?”

Before you could answer, a voice cut in—tight and familiar.

“Dude this place is huge—”

You turned slightly to find Ellie standing a few feet away, camera strap across her chest, expression carefully neutral but her eyes—her eyes were screaming "What the fuck?"

Abby raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying herself. “You’re with the photographer?”

“Yeah I invited her” Ellie said quickly, too quickly. “I’m her… friend.”

She was absolutely spiraling.

Abby chuckled. “Right. Got it. Guess I’ll behave, then.”

She turned to Ellie, a little too pleased. “Anyway, I think you’re supposed to get a shot of me and my dad before he heads to the stage.”

Ellie cleared her throat, clearly trying to refocus. “Yeah. Right.”

You watched as Abby waved over Dr. Anderson, who approached with the kind of air only people who owned entire institutions carried. He smiled warmly at Ellie.

“Ms. Williams, pleasure to have you here tonight. Eva tells me you come highly recommended.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ellie said, lifting her camera. “Just over here by the floral arrangement, if that’s okay?”

Dr. Anderson nodded, and Ellie snapped a few quick photos—Abby standing beside her father, one hand in her pocket, posture relaxed. When they were done, he gave Ellie a respectful nod and turned toward the stage.

The lights dimmed slightly as the event coordinator stepped up to the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, please find your seats. We’re about to begin.”

You and Ellie locked eyes briefly as everyone started moving toward the rows of tables. She walked backward, camera raised, already snapping shots of the crowd settling in, the soft lighting glowing over their shoulders.

Dr. Anderson took the stage, greeted by polite applause. Ellie raised her camera again, eyes in the viewfinder, already focused.

“Thank you all for joining us tonight,” he began. “This fundraiser is not only about financial support—but about vision. About believing in the stories we still have to tell…”

You found your seat near the edge of the room, heart still racing a little—half from Abby’s easy charm, half from the look on Ellie’s face when she saw it.

Ellie stayed standing, moving like a shadow along the edge of the room, capturing the moment in quiet bursts of the shutter. But every now and then, her eyes flicked back to you.

And your eyes flicked right back. Magnetic.

Dr. Anderson’s voice flowed through the speakers—confident, practiced, charismatic. He spoke about stories that shaped communities, about the importance of funding creative programs, about the photographers, writers, and artists who hadn’t yet been discovered.

You sat quietly, watching him, trying to absorb the atmosphere—the clinking of glassware, the hushed murmurs of the crowd, the way the light reflected off the hanging chandeliers like golden dust in the air.

Ellie had moved closer to the stage now, snapping photos from different angles—Dr. Anderson behind the podium, the crowd’s reactions, the attentive expressions, the elegant chaos of the evening frozen in delicate frames. She moved like she belonged there. Like she was in control of the moment.

But even through the lens, her focus kept drifting.

She found you in the crowd, the soft slope of your shoulders relaxed, your eyes fixed on the stage with that thoughtful look she’d seen a hundred times before—at the diner, across a booth, behind a coffee mug.

She adjusted the lens.

Click.

You turned slightly, just enough for the soft lighting to kiss the side of your face.

Click.

You didn’t even notice her. You were too focused. Too beautiful.

Her heart beat faster.

She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t. But—

Click.

One more. Just for her eyes to see.

After the speech, soft music filled the room again and waiters began to circulate with trays of fancy entrees and drinks. Dr. Anderson stepped down from the stage to applause, mingling quickly with key donors and guests. The fundraiser had officially shifted into cocktail hour.

You stood from your seat, smoothing your dress and heading toward the refreshment table again—half for something to sip on, half to keep your hands busy. You felt lost without Ellie, but she suddenly reappeared beside you, camera now resting against her chest.

“Hey.”

You turned toward her, smiling. “Hey. You killed it up there.”

“I just pointed and clicked,” she said, brushing a hand through her hair.

You gave her a look. “You also climbed on a chair at one point.”

Ellie shrugged, smirking. “Gotta get the shot.”

A pause settled between you both. Soft, warm. Your shoulders nearly touched. The hum of music and voices blurred into the background.

“You looked like you belonged up there,” you said quietly.

Ellie’s eyes searched yours for a beat. “You’re bluffing.”

You blinked. “You know I would never”

She shifted her weight awkwardly. “Are you enjoying it? Or you’re too bored without me?”

It came out in that teasing tone of hers.

“Well I was having fun with Mrs. muscles until someone cockblocked me” you gave her a slight shrug.

“Oh yeah right, this is your way of getting at me for Cat”

You smiled “Why you jealous?”

“Why would I? I’m prettier” she scoffed, but the red on her cheeks was giving her up.

A waiter passed and you grabbed a small plate of hors d'oeuvres, offering it to her. Ellie shook her head—probably too nervous to eat—but she lingered close.

Your eyes flicked toward her camera. “Did you get good shots?”

“Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat. “Some good crowd reactions. Got Abby and her dad. Anderson’s speech.”

You tilted your head. “Can I see?”

Ellie stared at her drink. Remembering the candids she had taken of you. Fuck. “It’s boring really”

You gave her a look. “Ellie come on.”

“Fine…” You practically snatched the camera off her hands, flicking through the pictures until you came across some photos that definitely weren’t Dr. Anderson. Your stomach fluttered at the sight.

You blinked. “These are boring too?”

She rubbed the back of her neck. Slapping herself mentally. “The lighting was good. I just… I wanted to remember it. That’s stupid. Forget I said that.”

Your chest ached, but in the good way. The fuck, say it again way.

You touched her arm lightly. “I love them Ellie.”

She looked up. Your eyes met again, that same magnetic, breathless tension pulsing between you like a second heartbeat.

And then someone called Ellie’s name—one of the event staff—and the spell broke.

She cleared her throat, stepping back. “I, uh—I’ll be right back. Save me some fries.”

You nodded, watching her disappear into the crowd. Her camera bouncing gently against her hip, her tie still just slightly crooked from earlier.

You touched your lips without realizing it. Had she taken those voluntarily? She thought you looked good. And of course the Abby thing made her jealous. She was a bad liar. But then again, it was funny seeing her get all red and jealous of that. After all, it is kind of a payback for Cat.

The fundraiser buzzed with renewed energy now that the formalities were done. Music had shifted to a softer jazz track, blending with the ambient clinks of glasses and low conversations. You wandered through the crowd with a fresh drink in hand, soaking it all in—the clothes, the artwork on display, the glittering city skyline beyond the ballroom’s floor-to-ceiling windows.

That’s when you spotted Abby again.

She leaned casually against a pillar near the hors d'oeuvre table, nursing a glass of something that looked expensive. Her suit jacket was off now, sleeves rolled to the elbow, revealing toned forearms that didn’t seem fair on someone also so confident.

She caught your eye and smiled. “Hey, it’s the mystery date.”

You laughed, half-glancing behind you. “You know my name.”

Abby grinned. “Yeah, but this way I get to keep asking.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Is that your go-to line?”

“Only when it works.”

She was charming. There was no denying that. And there was a spark of playfulness in her tone that made it hard not to lean into it just a little. So you did—trading jokes and playful banter while your drink slowly disappeared.

Across the room, Ellie watched with her jaw clenched so tight it could’ve cracked her molars.

She was adjusting her camera settings, trying to get better lighting near one of the centerpieces, but her gaze kept sliding over to you and Abby—laughing, leaning in a little closer, your lips parting around something you said that made Abby smile like that.

Ellie didn’t hear what you said.

Didn’t matter.

She looked away. Back to the camera. Check the aperture, adjust the white balance, focus, click. Her finger tapped against the shutter button harder than necessary.

She wasn’t jealous. Of course not. Why would she be?

You weren’t hers.

She didn’t have a claim. Couldn’t even bring herself to say half the things she wanted to. God she couldn’t even acknowledge all these feelings she’s been pushing down. Could barely meet your eyes when you fixed her tie earlier without burning alive on the spot. So what right did she have?

Still, when she glanced back and saw Abby tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with a teasing smile—Ellie nearly dropped the camera.

“Fuck” she muttered under her breath, turning sharply away.

Her expression tightened, mouth set in a hard line as she walked toward the other side of the room to "get some crowd shots," even though the lighting was worse over here and she’d already covered it twice.

She needed to do something.

Anything but stand there and watch you smile like that for someone who wasn’t her.

The conversation with Abby flowed easily. She was charming and smooth with her words, making you laugh a few times. But still, your eyes kept drifting to the crowd, scanning for a familiar auburn head of hair.

Eventually, you made your way back from the refreshment table, balancing a small plate of appetizers in one hand and french fries in the other. Your eyes moved carefully across the room until you spotted Ellie off to the side, fiddling with her camera strap. Her jaw was tight, shoulders stiff—like she was holding herself together by threads..

You approached her with a soft smile. “Hey, thought you might be hungry. I grabbed you something.”

She glanced at you—barely—and then looked back down at her camera. “Thanks,” she muttered bitterness in her tone, but didn’t take the plate.

Your smile faltered. “I—I mean, it’s fine if you’re not. I just figured…”

Ellie let out a breath through her nose. Not quite a sigh, but close enough.

“I’ve gotta go take some shots of Mr. Anderson with a few of the donors,” she said quickly. “He just gave me a list.”

“Oh. Right.” Your throat tightened.

She still wouldn’t look at you. And you had no idea why. You hadn’t done anything wrong. But Ellie’s head was a mess tonight, jealousy clawing at her chest, and she couldn’t trust herself to say anything without it spilling out sideways.

You tried to keep it casual. “Okay. No worries. I’ll just… wait here for you.”

Ellie finally looked up, just for a second. Her eyes softened like she wanted to say something. Needed to—but swallowed it instead. “I’ll be right back,” she said quietly.

She felt like the worst person in the world. That look on your face—she’d put it there. And it made her heart ache. But she needed space. Just for a minute. Not from you, but from her feelings.

You nodded, stepping back, the plate still in your hands. “Yeah. Of course.”

And then she was gone—already walking across the ballroom, camera raised, posture sharp like she had something to prove.

You stood still, the noise of the crowd growing distant. The laughter, the clink of glasses, the low hum of chatter—it all blurred. Like you were underwater. You didn’t know why her sudden coldness cut so deep. Or what had even triggered it.

Maybe she was just stressed. Maybe she couldn’t get the right shot?. Maybe you were overthinking it.

Still, the ache didn’t go away.

You sat back down in silence, surrounded by strangers, the plate of fries growing cold in front of you. The one person who brought you here felt miles away.

Thirty minutes passed, and no sign of Ellie. Your stomach twisted with irritation, your appetite long gone. You set the plate aside and rose to your feet, deciding to take a walk around the exhibits. Maybe clear your head. Maybe have a smoke.

You checked Ellie’s camera bag—she’d left it on her seat—and found the Altoids tin tucked inside like you knew it would be. You slipped it into your purse and started wandering through the venue’s wide halls, taking your time with each display, forcing yourself to admire the artwork even as your thoughts drifted.

Eventually, you found a side exit and stepped out into the cold evening air. Marble stairs led down into a quiet courtyard. You sat on the top step, reaching for the tin, taking a cigarette between your lips.

“Fuck,” you muttered. No lighter.

Of course. Ellie had it. She’d used it earlier before leaving her apartment. She always kept it in her pocket.

You sat there defeated, arms wrapped around yourself, cigarette untouched. The cold settled in, seeping into your bare shoulders.

A few long quiet minutes passed.

Then, without a word, something warm draped over your back. You turned quickly.

It was Ellie—her blazer resting across your shoulders. She didn’t say anything at first, just pulled the lighter from her pocket and flicked it on, igniting the cigarette still tucked between your lips.

Your eyes met hers.

Both static.

The flame hovered for a second longer than necessary, and then she let it go out, the soft click of the lighter closing cutting through the silence like a spark.

There was this look in her eye, a spark of regret glistening in her gaze, Ellie sat down beside you without a word, elbows on her knees, hands clasped loosely between them. The silence lingered for a few moments, just the soft sound of you exhaling smoke and the distant thump of music echoing from inside the building.

“I thought you had ditched me for a second” she said finally, her voice low.

You glanced at her, brows lifting slightly.

“I was a dick,” she continued. “And I’m… I’m sorry.” Almost like she hated saying it out loud.

You didn’t answer at first, just took another drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke sit in your lungs a second longer before exhaling. “Yeah,” you said softly. “You kinda were.”

Ellie winced a little but nodded. She deserved that.

“I don’t know why I acted like that,” Ellie said, thumb running over a scratch on her knuckle. But deep down, she knew exactly why. “Actually—I do. I just don’t wanna say it because it sounds pathetic.”

You looked at her again, eyes softening just a little. “Try me.”

Ellie let out a bitter huff of a laugh. “I just—it’s stupid but, seeing you with Abby, laughing and flirting with her… It made me feel so—I don't know—replaceable? Like maybe you don’t need me at all. And it sucks because I think I might always need you.” Her voice caught at the end, a knot forming in her throat.

You blinked, caught somewhere between shock and the tiniest flicker of hope.

“It’s stupid because you can talk to whoever the hell you want. I just—” she paused, jaw tightening. “I hated how much I hated it.”

You were quiet again, the smoke curling lazily from the end of your cigarette.

“Ellie,” you said softly.

Her eyes met yours. Both of you were facing the other now, close enough that your knees almost brushed. The space between you felt like it was narrowing by the second.

“I could never in a million years replace you. There’s no one quite like you. Abby didn’t mean anything at all. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. You know that, right?”

But oh, how you wished it could be more than just that.

“Yeah, I know,” Ellie murmured, but her chest ached. Was that all she’d ever be to you?

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “I didn’t want to ruin your night.”

You gave her a soft smile. “You didn’t ruin anything, Els. The night’s not over yet, you know?”

Ellie snorted gently. “Yeah. I’m still supposed to be working though.”

You both sat there in a silence that felt lighter now, as if something had finally been unclenched between you.

Ellie glanced over, her voice quieter now, sincere. “You look beautiful tonight,” she said. “Meant to say that earlier. Didn’t.”

You looked at her. Really looked at her. Hair a little messy, shirt slightly wrinkled, the tie now hanging loosely around her neck like she’d forgotten it was there. And those eyes—open, unsure, and a little scared.

You nudged her shoulder. “You look pretty good too. Even when you’re being a jealous asshole.”

Ellie smiled—real and warm.

“Still mad at me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Your faces were so close now, just inches apart.

You took one last drag from your cigarette, and without thinking, Ellie reached out and gently plucked it from your lips, slipping it between hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Maybe,” you said, your breath fanning her cheek.

“How much?” she asked, her eyes flickering from your mouth to your eyes again—lingering this time.

Your heart was pounding. Her fingers were still brushing yours from the cigarette exchange. You could feel her breath now, warm and shallow, and your lips were so, so close.

Ellie leaned in—just a few centimeters more and—

“Miss Williams!”

The voice shattered the moment like glass.

You both startled slightly, turning toward the source. It was the event coordinator, heels clicking against the marble as she approached in a hurry, clipboard in hand.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I need you immediately. Dr. Anderson’s about to do the donor photo and you’re the only photographer he’ll work with.”

Ellie blinked, her jaw clenched like she wanted to scream. “Right. Yeah. Coming.”

The woman was already walking off, clearly expecting her to follow.

Ellie looked back at you, guilt flashing behind her eyes. “I—shit. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Go.”

She hesitated for a second longer, then stood up, fixing her tie absently as she followed the coordinator inside.

You sat there alone on the steps, your skin still buzzing from the almost.

And all you could think about was how close she’d been. How close you had leaned in. And how— it had almost happened.

You stayed outside for a minute longer, letting the night air calm the fire still burning under your skin. The almost-kiss sat heavy on your lips, like a phantom touch. You couldn’t stop thinking about it—how close she’d been, the way her breath had hitched, how she’d looked at you like you were something sacred.

Eventually, you rose from the marble steps, brushing off the back of your dress and adjusting Ellie’s blazer on your shoulders, as you made your way back through the halls, heart still thudding.

The ballroom was less crowded now, the lighting slightly dimmed to a golden hue. The gentle hum of music played under the laughter and clinking glasses. You kept your head high as you re-entered, trying to blend back in like nothing had happened. Like you weren’t seconds away from kissing your best friend out on the stairs.

You spotted Ellie immediately. Of course you did. She was near the podium now, snapping shots of Dr. Anderson with his donors. Her camera was up, but her eyes kept shifting. Scanning. Searching.

For you.

She found you in an instant, her breath catching when your eyes met. And for a moment, everything stilled.

You gave her the softest smile, the one you knew only she got to see. She blinked, like you’d just knocked the air out of her lungs. Then her camera moved again—too quickly. She almost fumbled it, forced herself to look away and pretend like she wasn’t absolutely spiraling.

Ellie tried to focus on the shot—adjusting the aperture, lining up the angle—but every frame looked wrong. The lighting was too harsh, the smiles too forced. Her mind was still outside on the steps, with you. The curve of your mouth. The softness in your voice when you said “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Friend.

She cursed under her breath and took another picture, jaw clenched.

Neither of you could pretend it didn’t happen. And neither of you could figure out what the hell came next.

Her hands were steady. At least, that’s what she was trying to do.

Focus. Aperture. Composition. Lighting.

She adjusted the zoom with mechanical precision, the lens shifting slightly as she snapped another picture of Dr. Anderson with one of the donors. The camera’s shutter clicked, a sound she usually found soothing, grounding. But right now, it just felt like static.

Because all she could fucking think about was you.

You, sitting on the stairs in that dress that made her heart stop. You, leaning into her like maybe—maybe—you were about to kiss her. And then the goddamn coordinator’s voice cutting through the moment like a knife.

She hated how fast she stood up, like she’d been caught. Hated that you pulled away so quickly, face flushing as if maybe you regretted it.

She didn’t even get to say anything. Didn’t get to ask if you’d mean to.

Now, you were somewhere in the crowd—probably trying to act normal—and she was up here trying to be a professional while her chest was in knots and her brain was looping the moment on repeat like a broken record.

Ellie lifted her camera again. The lens focused on Dr. Anderson shaking hands with a man in a green suit. Her fingers pressed the shutter. One click. Two.

She barely registered the images. Her throat was dry, and she realized she hadn’t spoken in a while.

“Can we get one more, just by the stage?” the coordinator asked.

“Yeah. Sure.” Her voice cracked slightly. She cleared her throat.

She repositioned herself, stepping back and lifting the camera again. But her eyes flicked sideways, automatically. Searching for you. Needing to know where you were.

And there you were—leaning quietly against the far wall, Ellie’s blazer still draped over your shoulders, looking so painfully soft it made her knees weak.

You gave her a small smile when your eyes met, and it wrecked her. Gentle. Reassuring. A little sad, maybe.

She should’ve said something out there. Should’ve kissed you.

But now she was here. She forced herself to look away again. Let the camera be her shield.

Because if she didn’t, she was going to walk across that ballroom, wrap her arms around you, and kiss you in front of every single donor in the room.

And she wasn’t sure she’d survive what would come after.

She was on her way back to you—eyes already scanning the crowd for the familiar shape of your shoulders, the soft curve of your profile. The blazer still hung loosely around you and Ellie swore she’d never wanted to be a fucking jacket more in her life.

She’d barely taken two steps when someone called her name.

“Miss Williams?”

She turned, a tight smile forming automatically. A tall man in a tailored suit—gray streaks at his temples, glass of champagne in one hand, walked toward her. He looked vaguely familiar. Probably one of the board members Dr. Anderson had introduced her to earlier.

“Yes?” she said, polite.

“I just wanted to say—your work is phenomenal,” he said, “The way you capture people—it’s got heart. That’s rare.”

Ellie nodded, eyes flicking again toward you. You were sitting at a table near the far end, fiddling with a fork, head tilted slightly like you were deep in thought. You looked tired. Beautiful. Miles away.

She forced herself to smile at the guy. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

He kept talking. Asked about her process. About gear. Lighting. “Do you do exhibits? Ever consider a book?”

All she could think about was the way your lips had parted earlier. The way your eyes dropped to hers. The way her heartbeat had been deafening in her ears.

She gave him a few more distracted answers, promised to email a portfolio link, and then finally, finally, the man was called away by Dr. Anderson himself.

Ellie made her way back across the room in a daze, her footsteps slower now. Nervous. Her fingers still tingled from where they’d grazed your hand earlier.

You didn’t say anything when she sat down beside you, but you did nudge a plate toward her. Fries, a little cold now. Chicken skewers. A tiny cupcake. A napkin folded under the fork with her name scribbled on the corner. Her chest ached.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, eyes down.

You just nodded.

Ellie started eating—not because she was hungry, but because her mouth needed something to do other than say something stupid. Like: Were we about to kiss? Or: Did you want me to?

The silence between you wasn’t awkward, just… careful. Like neither of you wanted to say it first. Neither wanted to break the spell if it turned out it had all been in your heads.

So you both sat there, shoulders brushing, not talking about it at all.

The music dimmed. The lights shifted.

People began leaving in pairs or clusters. Thank-you speeches echoed distantly. Ellie chewed on the edge of a fry, eyes still on you.

And still, not a single word about what almost happened. Because it’s easier to pretend it didn’t. Even when both of you are sure it did.

The gala wound down slowly, the last of the champagne glasses emptied and the string quartet packing their instruments in velvet-lined cases. People exchanged cards and polite goodbyes.

You helped Ellie gather her gear, carefully placing her backup lenses in padded compartments, holding her camera bag open while she zipped everything up with methodical precision. Her fingers moved quickly, like muscle memory, but her eyes kept darting to you. Like maybe you’d disappear if she looked away for too long.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, slinging her camera strap over one shoulder. “Gonna give these to Dr. Anderson and the coordinator.”

You nodded. “I’ll wait by the truck.”

She watched you go, the hem of your dress swishing softly with each step. A part of her wanted to call after you. To say something real. Something brave.

Instead, she turned and approached the crowd of remaining staff, handed out the cards, exchanged quick thank-yous and nods. Dr. Anderson complimented her again, and asked her about future projects. She smiled, but her mind was already in the parking lot.

By the time she got back to her truck, you were leaning against the passenger door, arms folded gently across your chest, face lit by the soft amber of the lot lights.

“All done?” you asked.

“Yeah.” she said unlocking the door.

The ride was quiet at first, the city bleeding past in blurred streaks of gold and blue. Then Ellie started talking, voice low and a little raspy from the long night.

“Some of the donors came up to me,” she said. “Said nice shit about my work. One of them asked if I ever thought about putting together a gallery, which is… ridiculous, but whatever.”

Your head dipped against the seat, lids heavier with each word.

“It would be amazing honestly,” you said softly. “All your best pieces of work gathered together, I think you could do it”

Ellie glanced over. “Someday maybe”

You were dozing. Lips slightly parted. Hands curled in your lap.

She smiled, soft and aching.

“I don’t really care what they say, though,” she whispered. “Not really. Not if you’re not the one saying it.”

You stirred faintly, but didn’t wake.

The rest of the drive was filled with low music and even lower thoughts.

When she finally pulled up to your place, she cut the engine, letting the silence settle between you before reaching over gently.

“Hey,” she murmured, brushing your arm.

You blinked awake, groggy. “We’re here?”

“Yeah.”

You yawned, stretching, eyes half-lidded as you turned to her. “Thanks, Els. For taking me. I really enjoyed tonight….”

Ellie chuckled quietly. “Yeah. Me too.”

She walked you to your door, hands in her pockets.

You turned to her, suddenly unsure if you should say something else. But instead, you just leaned in—arms wrapping around her shoulders, her face pressed briefly into your neck.

The hug lasted a second too long.

Neither of you moved to let go right away.

And when you finally did, Ellie gave you a small smile.

You took off the blazer from where it previously laid. Warm on your shoulders, handing it back to Ellie, fingers brushing at the exchange.

“Goodnight Ellie” you said, going up to your doorstep.

“Goodnight” she whispered, backing down.

You watched her go, heart thudding loud against your ribs.

And then she was gone—taillights glowing dimly as her truck rolled out into the quiet street, taking your almost-kiss and every unsaid word with it.

You stepped into the apartment, the door clicking softly shut behind you. With a sigh, you kicked off your heels, letting them fall where they may, and pulled your phone from your purse, fingers trembling.

The weight in your chest had been building all night—tightening with every glance, every unsaid word, every almost. You couldn’t hold it anymore.

You found Dina’s contact and hit “Call,” bringing the phone to your ear as it rang once… twice…

“Hello—”

“I think I’m in love with Ellie.”

You said it before she could even finish her greeting, the words pouring out in a single breath, rushed and delicate—but honest. So honest. And the second they left your lips, something unknotted inside your chest. A confession, quiet but earth-shaking.

Simultaneously, Ellie sat in her truck, hands gripping the steering wheel long after the engine had gone quiet. The hum of the night outside her window did little to quiet the storm inside her chest.

She stared out through the windshield, heart thudding like a drum in her throat. Her tie was still loose around her neck, the scent of your perfume lingering faintly on her blazer. That almost-kiss haunted every corner of her mind.

She pulled out her phone, thumb hesitating for a second before tapping Jesse’s name. It rang twice before his voice came through, hoarse and confused.

“Dude, it’s midnight. What the fuck—”

“I think I’m in love with her.”

The words came out low, like if she said them too loud, they’d become too real.

There was a pause on the other end. “With… her her?”

Ellie slumped back in her seat, covering her eyes with her hand. “Yeah. Her her.”

It was real. It was undeniable. She was in love with her best friend, like some fucking cliche—and the weight of it settled over her chest like a secret too big to hold. It pulsed through her veins, raw and terrifying, because loving you wasn’t something she could undo, and the thought of it never being returned made her feel like she might break open right there in the quiet of her truck. It was everything, and it was too much. And still, she wouldn’t take it back.

.

taglist <3

@liasxeatt @80saturn @eleanorsghost @youusunshineyoutemptress @jazzyxox @lesoulew @fangirlinc @hitmehardmommy @liztreez @chwekriz00 @vahnilla @elliespotion @haithone @stwolfhardimaginez @thxtmarvelchick @purinukie @lavenderseedling @elliesfavwife @mikellie @iadorefineshyt @thebadwritersposts @gayandsuffering26 @flynnph0bias @adoreasellie

lmk if anyone else wants to be added !

[vyainide]

ㅤㅤㅤ౨ৎ luffy, zoro, law & afterglow

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ2024 ©1864RERUNS

includingㅤ━ㅤmonkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, trafalgar d. law

tag(s)&warning(s). gn! reader, description of the body remains neutral, slightly suggestive, zoro and luffy SUCK at aftercare and it's not my fault; law is marginally better, implied oral (f!receiving) w/ zoro

from vyon. again, not about lust, this is about love 😝 i hate law so much, i wanna suck him off

your body, and you have to remind yourself that it is yours, can still feel luffy lingering around unkempt corners and sweltering folds; a vigilant ache in muscles that have always been foreign to you until luffy had ran his mouth over them, slobbering and greedy and unhinged. he's panting over your torso, thighs folded over his calves neatly between yours, and his hands loose on your knees when your legs slip from their purchase on his shoulder. he leaves an unbridled barrage of cold bruises when his hands slips down your calves and wraps loosely around your ankles.

hands opening and closing slowly, he squeezes around the bones; his eyes are quietly adjusting back into the room, his lips swollen in the colour of your skin, rubber melting down into contact spots. you reach out a gentle hand and fingers pushed through his hair, turning up wet strands to lay back and luffy follows fluidly. a sort of whine in his throat from the touch as his neck craned, pulling taut his skin until his collarbone is hardened under the low lights.

he's worn down into a latex, liquid and flowing with every which direction that you tug his hair into; there's a certain amusement in having luffy so quiet, blinking slowly through dots and trying to find a suitable beat for his breathing. you're too tired to take advantage of it much, pulling luffy down onto you. he positively melts.

the sweat on your bodies clinging together as luffy stretches out his legs, shifting upwards and finding his nose at the junction of your neck. his eyes drooped, his pleasant scar tugging into a firm line; breathing hot and decisive panting over your skin, feverish exhales condensing on your neck and ultimately dragging real a scar as it melts downwards.

it'd taken a while to get used to luffy when he was like this— it was rare and strange. his eyes blown wide and foggy; an allure of weeping rainclouds pulled over his irises, you nod your head down and press a kiss over his eyebrows. "hungry?" you ask, voice hoarse and quieter than you expected.

the answer doesn't come. you're not even sure he's heard you; small tremors erupting up his spine as he fixed his head over your chest, intent on hearing your heart. you let him be, running your nails over the burning red stripes that clawed down his back and fighting a smile when he almost winces away from the raw touch. you're malleable underneath him, sinking and falling into a quiet lull of promised dreams with his secure body weighing you down— all twenty one grams and more.

you're just about to slip into sleep when luffy's hand finds purchase on your chest and he flings himself upwards with new founded energy. exhausted, your eyes flicker open to regard him. a new year's wild summer burning in his grin, your skin bursts into a domino of supernovae rapidly imploding and collapsing into itself as he drags his hands all over the place— trying to wipe down the sweat you've built up with just his palms.

you make a displeasured groan, brushing away his hands. "s'okay," you dismiss, "jus' go beg sanji for food."

"ya sure?" his hands pat over your shoulder, dragging moisture away and then taking them back; he assesses them and decidedly stretches out his arms to wipe away the sweat onto the walls.

you pat at the sides of his thigh in affirmation and he grins, a laugh on his lips. he moves himself to get off you— not before turning back down to press a final loud and wet kiss onto your nose. "g'night!"

"we're taking a bath after i wake up," you warn.

harsh fingers loosened around your hips, a splintering rush of electricity has you breaking out on top of zoro, eyebrows furrowed and face all scrunched up. pulled tight around a centre on your nose bridge— a mixture of a whine and a moan deep in your throat and zoro lazily turned up to press his lips against it.

teeth scraping against the cartilage of your trachea, worn in skin, like how a blade runs down a branch to a point; the bite just as soft as the bark, calloused hands scratching up your side and squeezing out tension. zoro is a vision of fog, heavy over a field of running blades of grass that always itch when they're on your skin. his eyebrows are pulled straight, face stretched in that misplaced frown; mouth open as he runs his ragged teeth against your neck.

his tar breath sticky as your head rolls onto his shoulder, struggling to find peace; he keeps you firm against him, like you might spill if he moves his hand away from your back, his thumb pressed up under the bone of your shoulder blade. shifting himself against the pinched end of the hammock, he pulls you down onto his chest and almost winces when you slap a hand against his pecs, picking through his own shivering of pleasure.

"quit it," his lips pulled down into a frown when you squeeze intently.

you don't, finding a new joy, instead, in pressing your thumb down into the fat and then pushing down with each other finger, slowly in a domino effect. you mumble something about 'aftercare' and 'grounding yourself' and 'his fault' and other stuff that zoro can't quite shift responsibilities elsewhere for or find a defence against.

he's never quite out of it like you are, stroking slowly up and down your sides— letting you pat at his chest in moments of three, squeeze, three pats, squeeze. one pat, two pat, three— your hand freezes mid–air and you peek up at zoro, the heaviness of his eyes pulled away from you with the licking pass of air. his chest rises slowly, falls even slower— he's asleep, or well, close to falling asleep.

you wonder why he's holding on.

"why'd you stop?" he grumbled, turning away sleep when your promised warmth does not come upon his skin.

you stare a little more. "my bad," you let your hand fall, stroke upwards, nails drag across his collarbone. "you gon' sleep?" the spilling seed of your loving creed dressed his face, undisturbed and unmoving, a shine that is coloured in the hues of zoro's skin underneath the dim lamps of the boys' dorms.

his answer is an affirming sound made with his throat. "you wanna shower first?"

"what?" your jerk almost has you toppling off of the hammock, both surprised and scared that zoro would take the initiative to put off sleep for something like showering.

his hand slammed onto your shoulder, pulling you back down. "what're you doing? s'fine if you don't wanna— shitty cook has stupid ideas anyways."

ah, so it was a sanji special. you'd love a shower personally but there's a smugness about zoro's face that you quite like seeing; you shift upwards, pressing a kiss against his neck. "nah, we can shower after."

the ache in your spine sings a litany of sighs when law shifts the weight used to hold down the curve away, lighter as it turns upwards; his hand wraps gently against your nape as his chest pressed down against your back. the touch feels like the catch of a match against its box, his skin slips against yours and his sweat drips into gasoline over the embers that he's left.

you burn, you ache— more than anything, you want.

"need a minute?" he asks, as gentle and kind as he lets himself be. death blurs into your vision when his fingers picks away a mess of strands from your face; his voice churns your guts like a hymn, a pretty and stoic thing that falls heavy onto your tired brain.

there's a furrow on his brow, unlike the ones that plagues his face on a common day— the usual wrinkles of a frown gone and smoothed down nicely as law waits. you hum a groaning yes. law pulls away, sweeps away the sweat that's clinging over your tire with his shirt, turns you over gently. you fight through the tides of buzzing and stare at law.

the sea paints him an iridescent blue; the same pearly coating of an oyster's core dragged over tanned muscles, each one taut and stretched in a hardened permanence that you've seen only in drawings that depict icarus' fall, a darkened abyss over the curves of his sides; the rest of his face drawn in a stately light. all if not a perfectly heavy heart, worn down and dull in its beating, love hidden in its deep corners and washed in still water.

through your daze, he is a murky presence. he dances all around, shy about being seen but persistent with how he cups water in his hand and tries his best to rub away the unclean in actions that should be below a man of his stature— his hands speak an instruction in their own diatribe of loving you.

you can't help the urge that clicks through you, dislodging a strain in your chest and locking into place all the same— you reach up and clap your hand onto his cheek. his face turned down onto you, amused. "hi," you say, still a little out of touch.

he leaves his shirt over your hips, tilting his head parallel to yours as you lay on your side. "hi," law repeated back to you, more entertained if not anything else. "you see something you like?" he teases, keeping it light.

you hum, then you draw him in. "i do." and law flushes— because he's like that, always shy and quiet around love that he can't deny, can't hide from with the brim of his hat. you feel his heat once more as his palm folds over your side, turning over to your back and dragging his knuckles down your spine. law's touch is always an annoying lingering kind, apt to lurk and loiter; as his hand drags down your back, his tongue turns around yours, soft and sweet.

coaxing out a breath and finding the familiar pattern of your teeth over his tongue, he lets you brush your hands upwards into his hair, tugging desperately for something neither of you have the words for and plays nice until he feels innocent desperation bloom into vulgar need— then, he'll pull back, tugging on your bottom lip as he goes.

"the crew are gonna come back soon." he tells you, not seeming upset about it.

you groan, pulling back from him. "killjoy."

[kuronarnze]

a/n: hihi!! I came back with a itoshi sae oneshot hehe, i got this idea randomly, enjoyy the oneshot !!

Itoshi Sae x Reader !

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

"Te Amo, Idiota"

"You don't know anything, right?"

Sae squinted at you from across the small café table, tapping his finger against his coffee cup. His hair was messy from practice, and there was a crease between his brows — the universal sign of Sae taking something way too seriously.

You tried your best to look clueless, widening your eyes and shrugging.

"Not a word."

He hummed suspiciously, but pulled out a notebook anyway, flipping it open with a sigh.

"I'll start simple, then."

You bit your lip to hide a grin.

Because the truth was... you already knew Spanish.

Fluently.

Your mother had taught you growing up, but when Sae casually offered to teach you ("so you can keep up when we travel for my games"), you hadn’t had the heart to tell him.

He looked so earnest about it. So rare. So soft.

How could you not play dumb?

"First word: Hola," Sae said, tapping the paper. "It means hello."

"Hola," you repeated sweetly.

"Good." He cleared his throat, a faint pink dusting his ears. "Now, 'gracias.' It means thank you."

"Grathias," you said, exaggerating the lisp.

Sae cringed. "It's not Spanish from Spain, dumbass. Just say it normally."

You nodded obediently, even though you could probably conjugate verbs better than he could. Watching him get worked up about it was too entertaining.

And maybe — just maybe — you loved seeing this side of him.

The patient, low-voiced, slightly awkward Sae who only existed when he was with you.

This went on for days.

Little lessons over coffee, texting you random vocabulary, even voice notes correcting your "bad pronunciation" (you had to fake the bad accent to sell it).

Meanwhile, you plotted.

You waited.

Waited for the perfect moment to reveal yourself.

And when Sae finally, finally texted you, "Tomorrow, I'll teach you how to say I love you," you knew your moment had arrived.

You spent that night crafting a little monologue.

Nothing too crazy. Just enough to make him combust.

The next afternoon, you met him at the same café, heart racing in your chest from excitement. Sae was already there, flipping through his notebook, looking unfairly handsome in his hoodie and jacket.

"You ready?" he asked without looking up.

"Actually," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, "I practiced a little."

Sae arched an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Let's hear it."

You leaned forward, hands folded neatly on the table, and said in your smoothest, most flawless Spanish:

"Itoshi Sae, eres el amor de mi vida. No sabes cuánto te amo. Eres la mejor parte de mi mundo, y quiero pasar cada momento contigo."

("Itoshi Sae, you're the love of my life. You don't know how much I love you. You're the best part of my world, and I want to spend every moment with you.")

Silence.

You bit back a laugh as Sae just stared at you.

Mouth slightly open. Eyes wide. His notebook forgotten in his lap.

"You—" he finally managed, voice cracking. "What— What the hell?"

You smiled innocently. "Did I say it right?"

"Where did you—" He stood up so fast his chair scraped the floor. "You— you said it perfectly."

A few people were staring now, but you didn’t care. Sae looked more flustered than you’d ever seen him — his cheeks fully pink, ears burning.

"You little—" he grumbled, sinking back down into his seat, covering half his face with one hand. "You knew Spanish this whole time, didn’t you?"

You leaned your chin into your hand, grinning.

"Maybe."

Sae groaned, dragging his hand down his face.

"You made me spend hours trying to teach you!"

"It was cute," you teased.

"You're evil," he muttered.

"You love me," you shot back easily, throwing his lessons right back at him.

He dropped his hand, glaring at you — but there was no heat behind it. Just a helpless, utterly fond frustration.

"Yeah," he muttered, staring at you like you hung the moon.

"Te amo, idiota."

You laughed, cheeks warming.

"Te amo, Sae."

He rolled his eyes, but you saw the tiny smile tugging at his lips.

And when he reached across the table to lace his fingers through yours, you squeezed his hand, knowing full well you'd do it all over again — just to see him smile like that.

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Thank you soso much for reading!! Last year i tried learning spanish, but i kinda gave up hehe, soo im sorry if some of the spanish is wrong (i have to admit, i did use google translate on the long dialogues...)

Thank you sm for readingg !!

[dorabellingham]

El classico

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when after a bad game, he seeks comfort in you

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The night after El Clásico seemed to have been tinged with a weight too heavy to bear. The Santiago Bernabéu, which had previously been vibrating with the expectation of a victory, was now silent under the crushing defeat of 4-0. Jude could barely lift his face; the score was like a punch that had hit him straight in the heart, a mixture of humiliation and helplessness that he had not expected to feel so intensely.

The stadium corridors were quiet, the haggard faces of the players mingled with those of the few remaining staff. Jude walked with heavy steps, ignoring the greetings of his colleagues and the murmur of the journalists who tried to capture some reaction. He just wanted to get out of there, to escape the shadow of that defeat.

As soon as he reached the parking lot, he took out his cell phone and, without thinking much, called you. Your voice was the first thing he thought of; he didn't want to talk to anyone other than his girlfriend. Deep down, he knew that you were the only person who could understand without judging, without demanding anything.

—Hey, Jude!

You answered with that welcoming tone that made him breathe a little slower, even in the most tense situations.

Jude let out a heavy sigh before saying something, feeling tiredness mix with frustration.

—Babe... it was a disaster. A complete disaster.

His voice sounded tired, almost exhausted, and there was a vulnerability there that he rarely let show.

You, on the other end of the line, could feel every emotion through his tone, as if you were right there by his side.

—I saw it, babe. —You answered softly, trying not to let him feel like he was being judged. —Do you want to come over to my house? We can talk, or just... be quiet, if you prefer.

He nodded, even though you couldn’t see it.

—I need you now, Y/n... I don’t want to talk to anyone. Just you.

In less than half an hour, Bellingham arrived home. As soon as you opened the door, he walked in slowly, his shoulders still slumped, his eyes downcast, and his face marked by tension. You approached and wrapped him in a hug, a gesture that he returned with a grip so firm that it almost seemed desperate.

—I can’t believe what happened. —He murmured, hiding his face in your shoulder. —So many people were counting on me, you know? It’s not just a game, darling... it’s not just a defeat. It’s... it’s like I failed everyone, the club, the fans. They trusted me.

You stroked his back, feeling how shaken he was. Jude was always strong, a leader on and off the field, but moments like these showed his more human side.

—Honey, you’re an incredible player. One defeat doesn’t change that. Everyone who understands football knows that the sport is like that, sometimes, even the best player has bad days. But you’re an essential part of the team, and they know it.

He shook his head, still not convinced.

—I know it sounds easy to say this, but... I don’t feel that way. Today was humiliating. The pressure from the fans, the disapproving looks... it’s too much.

You held his face between your hands, looking him in the eyes tenderly.

—Jude, you’ve overcome so much. Remember when you were just a little boy who dreamed of playing professional soccer? Look how far you’ve come. And you know how capable you are. This game was just a stumbling block, but you’re much stronger than that.

For a moment, he remained silent, absorbing your words. Then he closed his eyes and nodded slowly. You were his anchor, and just having you there made him feel a lightness he couldn’t find in anyone else.

You smiled at him, pulling him to the couch.

—Sit down. I’ll get us some tea, and you can tell me what else is on your mind, if you want.

As you went to the kitchen, Jude threw himself on the couch, letting his body sink into the cushions. Anger still burned inside him, but the warmth of the house and your affection helped ease the weight.

You came back with a steaming mug of chamomile tea in your hands and sat down next to him, offering the mug. He held your hand before taking the tea, as if he needed that contact to steady himself. After a sip, he sighed deeply and began to talk, telling you every detail that bothered him –the plays that didn't work out, the pressure from the fans, the feeling of helplessness.

—I know it's weird to say this... —He confessed. —But even after everything, I feel like I owe them something. I don't know how I'm going to go back there and face all of this again.

You squeezed his hand and shook your head.

—It's not weird, Jude. It shows how much you care, how much you respect what you do. That feeling is what makes you a special player.

He smiled sideways, a slight smile, still without much conviction, but a little more hopeful.

—I’m lucky to have you, Y/n. Seriously. You have no idea how much this means.

You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, feeling grateful for being there for him.

—And I’m lucky to have you. Now, you’re going to rest, recharge your batteries, and tomorrow is a new day. You’re going back to the field, babe. Stronger than ever.

Jude looked at you, with deep gratitude in his eyes. He knew there would still be challenges, but with you by his side, he was sure he would be able to face anything.

[miwiheroes]

Mike Wheeler and his Promise

"It means something that you can't break. Ever."

A huge part of Mike Wheeler's hidden character arc is set up in season 1, episode 2 with this scene right here. It's pretty much the motivation behind many of his actions towards El and Will, can be a partial explanation for his internalised homophobia and explains why he seems like to have a saviour complex.

Narratively, promises are made to be broken. When writers decide to make a promise 'important' and emphasise that this promise cannot be broken, ever, it will always come back to bite that character in the ass. Promises are either made to be broken in stories like these, or they are made to make a character feel trapped. Promises are rarely ever used in a romantic fashion unless the character cannot keep their promise or they feel like they are forced to.

What makes it really seem like Mike and El are a doomed couple to me is that the writers chose Mike to say: Ever.

No word is misplaced in writing a script. There is no such thing as an unintentional line in Stranger Things tbh, and this word in particular means two things:

Mike will always keep his promises throughout time.

Mike will keep his promises no matter if circumstances change, no matter if his feelings change.

There is no reason for this line to be in there other than to foreshadow the fact that Mike will eventually have to eat the words from his naive 12-year-old self. He will eventually regret promising something, but he'll feel like he can't go back. Ever.

The domino effect Promise begins:

*Smiling* "And we can go to the Snow Ball."

*Smiling* "Promise?"

*No longer smiling* "Promise."

This promise was made in order to foreshadow that it doesn't come true right? Because that is often what happens to promises narratively, and of course, it can't come to be because they get separated and Mike thinks she's died.

But.... the promise does come true.

So instead, this promise was made, narratively, to trap Mike. While this seems harsh of course, this young Mike has no idea that what he has just promised to himself is not only to go to the Snow Ball with El (which was a promise made to comfort her here, to make her feel like she will survive). He doesn't necessarily seem happy about making this promise. He seems more... indifferent. Knowing that this is something he just has to do.

Yeah, because this is definitely the actors' expressions and lighting and scenery you want for a first kiss, right?

So not only has Mike promised to go to the Snow Ball with her, he has also promised to save her, he has promised to be with her. And he can't break this promise, ever.

Even when his feelings change:

The writers separated Mike and El and put Mike with Will in season 2 for a reason. They used it to build up a good development of Mike and Will's dynamic of course, but it was also to change Mike's feelings.

It eventually becomes apparent to the viewer that Mike has resigned himself to not finding El. In season 2 episode 2, the last time we see Mike on the walkie, he walks away. Music swells and El looks onwards. Instead of looking happy, she seems disappointed that her bond with Mike is not as strong as she thought.

Mike, after his talk with Will in the same room, has begun to give up.

And over time, he figures out that maybe... maybe finding and choosing to Will's friend is the best thing he's ever done instead. Once he figures this out, he cries, he's not loud, he's not angry. But it's at least the thing to bring Will's message forward.

Then El comes back, and Mike feels like a liar.

I've never really figured out why Mike shouts 'LIAR!' many times towards Hopper when he's clearly projecting as he starts to cry. Until now. It's the guilt that he didn't keep his promise. The promise he had made back when El had almost died, back when El had clearly thought promises could never be broken. EVER. Even when feelings change.

Of course he'd felt pissed at Hopper. Hopper was the one to keep El safe, not Mike, which is not the thing he had promised.

When El returns, Mike says:

"I never stopped looking for you."

Woops, Michael, that's a bald-faced lie, and you know it. But he also knows what a promise is, something that can't ever be broken.

Mike is now committed into this relationship. He's ready to keep El as his girlfriend for many reasons, but the next commitments he makes (i.e. saying 'I love you') are not intentional.

In season 3:

Saying 'I love her' happens on accident, she's never meant to hear. The next time he's asked about it, he fumbles and wants to deny ever saying it. But when El says it back, he realises... oh shit. I really am in this now. I can't escape, even though I know my feelings are different.

In the famous words of Hopper. "I don't want things to change." "[I want] to go back to how [we] were."

Throughout summer, before the Mindflayer, his relationship with El was easy, it was fine. He could deal with this because he can still go to movie theatres with Will and his friends and El can't go out in public. His relationship isn't real, and the fights they have are just 'silly, stupid fights'.

But then she says she loves him too and now what? He realises this is real, he can't go back on what he's said again. Because no matter what, a promise can't be broken.

Now:

He has to reject childish things and pretend to be 'normal' (but only around El).

He has to keep away from Will, who has the potential to break his promise to El forever.

He still can't say 'I love you' because of this great big commitment, this potential for change, and El clocks him, despite his best efforts to keep up the same relationship he was trying to have in season 3.

When he no longer has the threat of this great big PROMISE looming over him, when he feels that El has no broken up with him through that note signed 'From, El', he now suddenly has the ability to act close to Will. When he's confident that El's safe and that they just need to get back to Hawkins, he's able to express how he really feels.

He can finally, finally work with Will without feeling guilty.

That is, until El's in danger again. Until Argyle reminds him of the ramifications of his girlfriend being missing, reminding him of the promise that he's always made.

That's when this intimacy with Will suddenly feels taboo again:

The next time he needs to make a commitment towards her, it's through pressure. The bottom line is, Mike likes being a hero, he wants to be a saviour, but he was never ready for it to feel like this.

When Will reminds him that he's the heart of the Party in Surfer Boy Pizza, he believes that it could never be Will that needs him, but that Will's telling him that it really is El that still needs him. And that she always will.

So he holds her hand, exactly like he did back in season one, and makes his Promise again, this time, knowing that he's trapping himself.

Now, instead of a naive kid, he's a teenager, he's changed, despite not wanting to. He's resigning himself to a life without truly being able to express his feelings. He's not just some kid going to the Snow Ball with a girl that he cares about, he's promising to love her, knowing he's trapped himself in this promise again.

After all, he's already promised to save her, and if he thinks saying 'I love you' will save her, he's gotta do it no matter his true feelings right?

In season 5, someone, someone needs to tell this poor boy that he does not need to keep his promise. El needs to tell him about her growth, what she has learned from her time at the lab---that is, that she does not need Mike to love her, which she seems to have understood. She has already accepted that her lover won't arrive at the train station.

And Mike should realise that saying 'I love you' did not in fact save El. It was the reminder to fight, that Max is in trouble, that there are more important things, bigger than their relationship, that allowed her to escape the vines.

So when Mike hears that he no needs to keep up this promise, that he no longer has to hate himself for being a 'liar' to someone he cares so much about, that he can open himself up to happiness and understanding again, he'll probably feel pretty complete.

What do you think?

[meolia]

. *. ⋆ twisted wonderland: how dateable are they? (heartslabyul ver.)

a/n: so. back in 2022/2023 i vaguely remember doing this on an old blog i had and i thought, since im obsessed with this game again i should redo it with newfound knowledge el oh el / oh and feel free to debate me on this i just need people to talk to 💔 . also i apologize that the cons have more words than the pros because i have a lot to say about them BYEHEYE

cw: profanity, troubled teenage boys, no sugarcoating, involves content from the vignettes, main story & events from the eng server, involves SOME headcanons.

1 (extremely undateable), 10 (extremely dateable); im also kind of biased but i swear to remain neutral💔💔💔

SAVANACLAW | other parts tba.

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle Rosehearts

PROS: hardworking, determined and adaptable. we've seen this guy study so hard ever since he popped out of the womb and it resulting in him coming out on top, and he could've easily skipped a few grades because of how smart he is academically and magically. he's also able to remain coolheaded in stressful situations, oftentimes coming up with (usually) rational solutions. he's also really cute when it comes to cakes/tarts. he'd get mad on your behalf, he'd also be kinder towards you, he'd offer to tutor you on subjects you don't understand and tries to be patient, just for you. chronically offline (thats a good thing yes)

CONS: well. first, he's got some serious anger issues he needs to work on; it's not his fault per se, but with how unpredictable the bursts of angers are will probably be tiring. he takes offense to a lot of things and admittedly, he's better post OB but he's still got a long way to go. second, his obsession with the queen of hearts' rules are INsane. there's been instances where he expects outsiders that aren't even in heartslabyul to abide by her rules which is,,, haha lol ermmmmm. he'd probably expect you to do the same. just because youre his partner doesn't mean he'd let you go scot-free if you break any one of them...! again, he's better post OB but still. third, his mother and overall tense family relationship. he's probably this way because of his mother's influence and insane expectations of him, so it won't be very surprising if his mother has a LOT of opinions on you. lastly, he lacks joy and whimsy. he literally never watches movies or play games etc., deeming them unnecessary which is insane????????? HOLY crap im surprised hes still intact

MY FINAL VERDICT: 7/10 — he would make a decent boyfriend. me personally i probably wouldnt date him people like him stress me out but each to their own! he needs to sort himself out before even thinking of dating though

Trey Clover

PROS: he's very big brother like, the kind that's reassuring and makes you feel safe whenever he's near. he rarely gets mad, and if he does, he wouldn't resort to yelling or act irrational. mature, maybe overly so for a guy his age and surrounded by the people he's around, but that's a plus for him. CAN COOK AND CAN BAKE. his family owns a bakery too so you'd probably get discounts because you're dating him. also, his love language is probably acts of service so you can probably expect him to carry most of your stuff, help you with organizing spaces etc. gives in easily... could be both a pro and con. soft-spoken teeheeHEE... he didn't make it into the top 30 of male characters japanese women want to date for no reason.

CONS: that god awful fucking obsession he has with cleaning teeth. OH my god the way he was all like "im the only normal one here omfgggg" during twisted halloween part 2 and then when sebek mentions that his father is a dentist he immediately starts smiling WIDELY and kept pressing him for more info about his dad's dental work like that scene of shrek signing a contract by that little man. whenever he mentions "brushing your teeth" it's going to sound like a threat even when he doesn't mean it that way. going back to gives in easily; it'll become a problem because you know damn well he'd go "umm... nevermind" very often.

MY FINAL VERDICT: 8/10. deducted two points because im genuinely terrified of his cleaning teeth HOBBY. otherwise id say he'd make a really sweet boyfriend. would date, probably.

Cater Diamond

PROS: he's chill, laid-back and easygoing (are there any differences between those three words im sobbing). he plays mediator during tense situations, and he offers peaceful resolutions (most of the time). perceptive, and he's got some nice intuitions. his psychic abilities are cray craaay... I just stared at what I typed for a full minute. I'm never doing that EVER again. he's usually optimistic, and he's also really cheerful so if you like some rainbows in your life, he's your guy. i KNOW he's good at photography since he posts on magicam so much & probably has a decent following. he would take the most godly pictures of you if you wanted. i think he'd break his back and knees to get that angle for you.

CONS: The way he incorporates hashtags in almost every single conversation will kill me. youd be talking about something horrid that happened to you that day and he'd say some shit like "oh no! that's hashtag #diabolical!" (double hashtags since the game does that... ik they dont mean it like that but i just feel like that'd be funny). apparently has a death glare so terrifying it'd kill a man on the spot? you'd either be wetting your pants or be more attracted to him. either way, if you guys ever get into a heated argument and he pulls that out umm bless you i think? and he maybe posts on magicam. too much. it'd be something insignificant and not very worth journalling but he'd take a picture anyways and post it online with some long stupid hashtags like #DelightfulFurry #HotPinkBangin #OneWithTheCrowd with an image of heartslabyul freshmen wearing pink and feeding the flamingoes. but i guess that's part of his charm...?

MY FINAL VERDICT: 7/10. he's handsome and he's a cool guy but the way he talks in hashtags and how he lives on magicam will be a big fat turnoff for me. if you like it, good for you! cay-cay would make me decay-cay!

Ace Trappola

PROS: he'd get mad on your behalf (see to when he punched riddle in the face because he insulted mc). cares for you even if he doesn't admit it outwardly, but will do stuff in the background to help you, even if just a little bit like that time in the halloween event where he and deuce personally went to ask the ghosts to make a costume for mc and grim so they wouldn't have to miss out. playful, there wouldn't be a day that's boring when with him.

CONS: got an extremely loose tongue that got him into trouble loads of times. can't really shut up which is very bad...! he sometimes doesn't think before speaking so ahaha. SO irresponsible sometimes he can fight grim on that. remember when he ran from his punishment at the start of the game? yeah. also is really embarrassing sometimes i have to turn my phone off to ponder about life whenever he says some stupid crap that WILL come back and bite him in the ass later on. also will probably get bored of you? like that one time he ghosted his middle school girlfriend because he doesn't wanna do it anymore... eeeeyikes.

MY FINAL VERDICT: 6/10. the honeymoon phase will be the best, and the rest you just gotta hope he doesn't pull an average teenage boy.

Deuce Spade

PROS: so so so extremely sweet. is willing to do almost anything to make it up to you if he ever wronged you. is willing to change, like how he decided to try and become a model student because he saw his mom crying about him being a delinquent, so if he has any flaws/bad habits that make you uncomfortable he'd try to be better. brave, like stupidly so. was ready to fight malleus in malleus's sr lab coat vignette even if it meant he'd die LMFAOOO. he's also someone who'd get mad on your behalf, but even more than ace. dude WILL get into a brawl with ten people for you. passionate. he'd also be so gentle and kind towards you like how he treats mc in game, never raising his voice at you and if he inadvertently does it he'd apologize immediately. his determination is amazing too. his love for eggs is also really cute... sorry im just rambling now i just really love him bye

CONS: oblivious and very gullible. there's been SO many times where he agrees too fast or just believed everything without a fact check. like in glorious masquerade where azul was talking to him about taking his UM he just went "okay!" without asking why. would probably get into a lot of unneeded trouble for this fact alone.

MY FINAL VERDICT: 10/10. this is a bias on my part but he'd make the sweetest and most amazing boyfriend EVER. he's trying!!! he really is!!! i think he's charmingly idiotic gahahahha hhahaa

HEARTSLABYUL MOST DATEABLE TO LEAST DATEABLE:

DEUCE > TREY > CATER > RIDDLE > ACE

[isasweetie]

౨ৎ in which s2 rafe didn’t smile a lot. so, you liked to remember whenever he did.

rafe was stressed. he had been through a lot ever since the pogues made it their business to find the royal merchant. from killing sheriff peterkin, to suddenly being heavily devoted to pleasing his excuse of a father, he’d been down a bad path and had absolutely no idea what to do about it. so as his loyal lover, to see him smile every now and then? it made you a lot happier than it should.

the first time he’d smiled since the incident was when he came to tell you what he did. he debated hiding it from you, but there was no way you wouldn’t end up finding out — you had a lot of connections. you had been sitting in your vanity chair, doing your hair for a little party rafe was supposed to pick you up for. when he rang the doorbell, you smiled and ran down to answer it. you instantly greeted him with a hug, this little sunflower in his flowerless world. he didn’t hug you back. tilting your head, you pull away, confused. you asked what was wrong, he asked to come inside. you were nervous as to what he was gonna tell you. you cried when you found out he was a murderer. he was still in shock, or else he probably would be too.

then came lots of reasoning. he spent a good half hour explaining why he did it, repeating the same things sternly until it finally got through your head and your crying slowed. then there was a pause, and you sniffled and your voice trembled as you asked, “wanna get ice cream?” a weak smile cracked on his face. it made you smile. “..shit, kid. yeah, i wanna get some ice cream,”

the next rare moment of smiles was when he was leaving for the bahamas. it was nothing huge, you nor him did anything ‘smile-worthy’, but maybe it was the way you wrapped your arms around him and told him to be safe. he thought it was silly, you never liked his dad and it was almost cute that you were scared of ward like that, worried he’d put rafe in danger. he just smiled and kissed your head, promising that he’ll be safe. you let him go.

the final moment of affection you got from this tough year was when he was calling you while on the boat to guadeloupe. so obviously, you couldn’t really see him, but you could swear there was a little smile on his face when you pouted about how you couldn’t be there with him. he was explaining stuff about the cross of el derado, his newest little treasure. he always would complain about the pogues stupid treasure hunts, and you wondered why the minute that rafe got involved, it was suddenly the most important thing in the world. so you asked. he answered, saying after a quiet huff of a laugh, “kid, c’mooon. the cross is gonna sell for fuckin’ millions, why wouldn’t i want it?” you understood and ageed. then after a few more minutes, he said “love you” (with a smile that you could hear), and hung up. you didn’t realize that was gonna be the last time that you were gonna talk to him for a month. you would’ve prevented mr. singh from taking him, if you could. but at least you heard his smile before he ghosted everyone.

[gigi-loveless]

Okay kind of out there ask, dom reader teasing and topping Abby while Ellie is a little perv and watches from behind them. maybe it's not that out there idk, i just like bottom Abby its so fun

summary - what was supposed to be a chill night in with your roommates takes a hard turn.

warnings - 18+. FILTH. this is FILTH. lowkey dubcon if you squint REALLY hard, intro is cheesy asf so i won’t blame you if you skip it

authors note - i did not proof read this bc i needed to rub one out after writing this jesus chriST anyways requests are open again finally . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“okay, okay,” abby chuckles as she gets the perfect idea. “so we think we know everything about each other right?”

you and ellie turn to each other, both curled up on opposite ends of the couch, and nod in agreement, as ellie passes you her neatly rolled joint, both of your eyes following your cocky roommates detailed arms.

“so,” ellie coughs, “where’s this going then abby?”

“jesus give me a second, williams!” abby shouts, that rare, adorable smile that makes you absolutely melt appearing. “let’s play hot seat.”

ellie rolls her eyes unceremoniously, and peels herself off the couch. “okay, okay!” you notice her ears burning pink underneath her auburn hair, pondering to yourself what an innocent game such as this would make her such a mess.

“okay okay, who wants to go first?” abby asks, as ellie turns away slightly, avoiding eye contact, biting back a smile. her chiseled features glowing in the moonlight through the window. “well, i suggested the game, so how bout you, sugar?” abby gestures to you. your hands start to get clammy, ellie’s odd energy throwing you for a loop.

“cool, yeah.” you agree, making your way over to abby’s chair in the corner of the room.

“okay, els, you know how this works right?” abby questions, as ellie quickly interjects.

“d’you think i’m five? gimme a break dude!” she laughs, playfully punching abby’s shoulder.

“okay, okay….” abby chuckles again as she sets a one minute timer on her phone. “and time starts….now.”

“okay coming in hot, filthiest fantasy.” ellie’s eyes widen with desire as she asks you her question.

“no doubt, wanna have someone watch as i put a girl in her place. sounds so fuckin fun.” you explain nonchalantly as the two girls watch you take the final drag of the minuscule joint between your plush lips.

abby and ellie give each other a quick look before abby blurts out “do you wanna make that come true now?”

you cough, waving the smoke out of your face, laughing. “the fuck, anderson? like….” the girls eyes widen, eyeing you in your workout shorts and tank top. “oh, you’re serious.”

“what is it angels, you wanna see this?” you creep up from the chair, confidence building with every motion. pulling off your tank top and throwing it in ellie’s face, your nipples perk up at the sensation of the cool air.

“fuck….” abby whispers breathlessly, using every fiber of strength to not palm her clit at this very second.

“c’mere abs…lemme take care of you.” you murmur sultrily, running your hand down her braid as you straddle her thigh. “wanna watch, els?” you motion to the stunned girl, her nimble fingers already down her boxers. “ah, ah, ah…..” you whisper to her, pulling her fingers out and sucking on the wetness from her digits. “you’re gonna wanna save that. just getting started.” her breath hitches, wide eyes taking in the warmth of your mouth around her fingers.

as you’re finishing up, you feel abby brushing up against your ass, and going to grope it. “don’t even think about it anderson. you do what i say, yeah?” you ask, pinning her muscular arms up above her head. the blondes expression goes soft, submitting to your energy. “stay.”

“that’s a good girl.” you whisper, before locking your lips in hers. she tastes just how you always imagined; coffee and cherries. she can’t help but buck up her hips into yours, desperate for any friction. “was that….your….plan…all along?” you ask, one hand around her throat while your pouty lips leave tender kisses on her collarbone.

“m-mhm!” she nods, ellie’s faced flushed in awe, scanning the two of you.

“yeah? i could tell from the second you suggested that game….sluts. both of you.” you chuckle, before nearly tearing her muscle tank off her toned body and connecting your gooey mouth to her petite nipples. the moan that comes out of her at this stage is guttural; you smile to yourself knowing you can make these girls fold with a simple kiss. “tell me what you want angel….” you coo, circling her ribs with your nails. without warning, she gets too impatient and starts rubbing her clothed cunt against your thigh. “well….if you can’t behave, maybe i’ll just play with ellie for a bit.” abby whines as you peel yourself off her, as ellie’s eyes darken.

“let’s see how wet you are…”

ellie quickly rips her boxers off, allowing you to spread her pale thighs. her cunt is quite literally dripping. thank fuck you have a leather couch.

“may i?” you ponder from between her thighs. she bobbles her head yes uncontrollably, only stopping to throw her head back in pleasure when you lick a thick stripe up her puffy pussy. “god, y’taste so fuckin good….” you mumble, looking back to abby for a moment. “learned your lesson yet?” your eyes taunting her, before diving face first into ellie’s pussy, no hesitation. the poor girl can barely get a moan out before-

“i know you bought that strap….saw the box.” she sighs out, relieved.

“sorry els…” you giggle, a thin web of spit connecting your drenched lips to her pussy. “i’ll get you later. gotta take care of that slut first. be good and watch, and i’ll reward you again.” she gulps in response, giving you a light kiss.

you motion for the girls to wait, and scurry off to your room to get yourself ready. soon you’re back, bottle of lube in hand, rubbing the cool gel on your 7 inch length. abby’s eyes widen, likely not realizing how big your dick really was.

“this okay?” you ask, hovering over her neatly trimmed pussy. she nods, whimpering. “words, angel….”

“y-yes!” she gasps out, desperately rutting her hips against the tip of your dick. anything, anything for a taste of that delicious friction.

“good girl….” kissing her forehead, you sink into her with ease, her eyes rolling back sinfully as you bottom out in one stroke. “look so pretty like this…s’fuckin obedient….”

her veins melt back into her freckled shoulders as her senses succumb to all of you. her moans are fucking pornographic, you almost wish you got it on video….

in which ellie already has her phone shakily pointing at the two of you, her hand back between her now bare thighs, rubbing lazy circles over her clit. all that’s left of her is her flannel, her breasts poking out from in between the the buttons. because let’s be real, she never wears a damn bra so she can whip them out easily.

“jesus abs….s’fuckin tight.” you moan out, lightly scratching at her biceps. “takin me so pretty….never thought i’d get to have you like this.” the blonde sobs out your name in reply, desperately flailing to close her legs to relieve the pressure in her stomach as you pry her open. “you better stop, or i’ll take you from behind instead.”

“promise?”

and that’s how you ended up with abby andersons back arched for you, ass up, with your cock so deep in her cunt ellie can see the silouhette of you in her abdomen.

“yeah? you wanted this, huh?” you pant, the only sounds that echo through the room are simultaneous moans from the two girls and the squelching of their juices. abby’s noise more prominent as she shrieks in pleasure while you yank her braid so far back she has to stare at ellies glazed over cunt just out of reach while you ruthlessly thrust into her.

“answer or you won’t fuckin cum.” you bellow, tightening your grip on her locks.

“yes! y-yes! need to cum…hah…hah….hah….s’bad!”

“atta girl.” you groan, spreading her pussy to watch her cream a perfect white ring all over your strap, your own high peaking, your thighs shaking in pleasure.

the three of you collapse onto the couch, all going silent for a moment to catch your breath….before bursting out into uncontrollable giggles.

“gotta do that more often, huh?” abby smirks, with the satisfaction of knowing her stupid little plan worked.

“mhm….” you agree, brushing your hands up against the two girls. “gonna put els in her place next time though…”

you shoot a glance at the lanky girl, and her eyes go hazy.

part 2….?

[steddiealltheway]

Steve glances down at his watch and looks around at the kids anxiously awaiting Eddie's arrival. He's five minutes late. In any other situation, this wouldn't be a lot, but considering that Eddie makes it a point to be either on time or (most likely) early to anything involving D&D with the party... it's highly concerning.

Steve glances at his watch again just to give himself something to do when Dustin finally bursts out, "Okay! This has to be a prank, right? Like someone has to be in on this."

Steve glances at all the other kids staring blankly at Dustin and finally decides to take matters into his own hands. "I don't think that's what's going on, Henderson, but thanks for the input. You guys stay here, and I'll go check on his place."

"I'm coming with you," Dustin states firmly.

Steve furrows his brows. "No, you're staying because if Eddie gets here and you're gone then that just means more waiting." When Dustin crosses his arms and continues staring, Steve sighs, digs his wallet out of his pocket, and hands Dustin a few bills. "Order a pizza and hang out for a bit or something. Walkie me if he gets here."

Dustin smiles brightly and takes the money immediately rushing off to Mike who is already on the phone calling the pizza place. Steve puts his hands on his hips and asks, "And what do you say?"

"Thanks, Mom," Mike says flatly, raising his eyebrows and looking entirely unimpressed.

"Thank you!" Lucas says as Will smiles and gives him a quiet, "Thank you, Steve."

Steve waits for Dustin who rolls his eyes and says, "Thank you. Now check on Eddie." Steve raises his eyebrows. Dustin sighs, "Please."

"You guys are going to be the death of me," Steve says as he makes his way up the Wheeler's basement steps. He wishes Max and El were there to have his back, but they had taken the chance to have a sleepover while the guys were too distracted to interfere with their girl time. He thinks calling Max to ask her to check on Eddie would also count as interfering.

It's not that Steve minds too much. Really, he rarely gets alone time with Eddie, and it's been a while since he's truly checked up on him. After the bats, Steve often went to his place and helped with wound care since he personally knew what he was going through. But as time went on and their injuries slowly turned into scars, it was harder to find excuses to see Eddie alone.

So, Steve settles for seeing him when the kids invite them both to something, and he's started to even hang around during their D&D sessions, soaking in all of Eddie that he can. He still refuses to play, too afraid of the kids making fun of him for getting confused, but he easily gets lost in the campaigns through Eddie's storytelling.

He thinks it's easy to get lost in anything Eddie's passionate about. It may go right over Steve's head, but he would do just about anything to listen to Eddie ramble - sometimes it might just be an excuse to stare at his lips, but no one (except Robin) needed to know that.

Steve nearly misses his turn while thinking a little too hard about Eddie's lips, but he makes it, turning into the trailer park and parking outside of Eddie's place fairly quickly. He sees Eddie's van in the driveway and takes a deep breath, hoping Eddie just somehow lost track of time or something.

Steve quickly rushes out of the car and knocks on the front door, waiting to hear Eddie's footsteps or grumbling as he makes it to the door.

But silence is the only thing coming from the other side.

Steve knocks harder, hoping the neighbors won't start snooping with all the noise he's making, especially when, a few seconds later, Steve decides he has waited long enough and pulls the door open. He quickly closes it and locks it on instinct as he calls out, "Eddie?"

The living room and kitchen are empty, but Steve doesn't hear the shower running, so he quickly bursts into Eddie's room calling out his name again.

His eyes fall on Eddie lying in bed with the covers tucked all around him, but his pale face is slightly visible through the dark strands of hair covering it. The last time Steve had seen him like this was in the upside down when...

"Eddie!" Steve says, rushing to the side of the bed and brushing the hair out of his face. He cups Eddie's face in his hands and nearly shakes him before he sees his brows twitch as he begins frowning.

"What..." Eddie groans out, eyes squinting open.

Steve breathes out a sigh of relief as he nearly tackles Eddie into a tight hug, ending up nearly on top of him.

"Good morning to you, too," Eddie jokes, squeezing Steve back. "Wait, what time is it?"

Steve pulls back and looks down at him. He runs a hand over his cheek, feeling the warmth of it against his palm, a reminder that he's okay. "It's past five, and it's Friday."

It takes a few moments before a look of realization crosses over Eddie's face, his eyes widening as he curses, "Shit! I couldn't sleep last night, and I decided to take a nap around... three? Maybe?" He shifts back on the bed and starts trying to sit up.

Steve places a hand on his chest and pushes him back down.

"Hello," Eddie says as a blush spreads across his face. "This is fun, but I have a dungeon to master," he jokes, showing off his dimples.

Steve nearly forgets how to breathe for a second, but he finally gets it together enough to say, "You and I both know how hard it is to sleep after everything, so if you're able to sleep now, then you're sleeping."

"I'm fine, re-" Eddie yawns and covers his mouth. "Really."

Steve raises his eyebrows at him.

Eddie sighs and turns on his side to directly face him. "Steve, the kids will kill me if I don't do this session tonight."

"And I'll kill them if they give you shit about it. Does tomorrow night work?"

"I mean, yeah, probably but-"

"Great," Steve interrupts as he stands up and grabs the walkie Eddie keeps on a designated shelf. "Hey, Dustin, this is Steve."

"Is it a code red? Over." Dustin immediately replies on the other side.

"No, everything is fine here. We just need to postpone until tomorrow night if that's fine with everyone."

"There is no postponing D&D!" Dustin screeches.

Steve sighs and replies, "If you complain again I'm giving you no rides or money for a month."

There's a long pause from the other side before there's a response, "Tomorrow works! See you then!" Lucas answers.

Steve looks back at Eddie and gestures toward the walkie. "See?"

Except, Eddie is already beginning to doze off again, head nodding and snapping up every few seconds.

Steve smiles and slowly makes his way back to the bed, gently guiding Eddie back down before tugging up the covers and leaning over to press a gentle kiss against Eddie's forehead. "Goodnight."

As Steve begins to move back, Eddie's hand latches onto his wrist. He stares up at him sleepily and asks, "Stay? You need the sleep, too."

And he's right. He absolutely does need the sleep, and there's no way he's going to turn down the offer from Eddie, but... "Eddie, you're half asleep, you don't know what you're asking."

Eddie looks him in the eye and says, "I know exactly what I'm asking, and if I read the signs wrong then sue me."

Steve's heart beats a little faster in his chest. "Eddie..."

"Let's talk about feelings and everything when we wake up, okay? If you don't want to stay, that's okay. But know that I would want you here no matter what."

Steve looks down at him for a few seconds before he turns to take off his shoes. When he turns back, Eddie is smiling and holding the blanket up.

Steve accepts the invitation and finds himself wrapping his arms around Eddie and pulling him against his chest. Steve gently runs a hand through Eddie's hair, only stopping when Eddie grabs his hand and presses a gentle kiss against it.

Steve responds by bending down and planting a kiss on Eddie's head. He smiles when Eddie happily hums.

As Steve focuses on Eddie's breathing evening out, he finds himself matching it and slowly starts drifting off, falling asleep easily for the first time in a long time with happy thoughts of what's to come when they finally wake up.

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Bluebird Bookstore

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: flufff

el's thoughts: second time writing for bucky!! it's probably a lil ooc, but i figured i'll post it anyway. hope yall like it!!

masterlist

Bucky never expected to meet someone like Y/N.

She wasn’t like the people he met these days—those who treated him like a war hero, a monster, or a walking ghost. She didn’t look at him like he was something broken that needed fixing or something dangerous that needed monitoring. No, Y/N looked at him like he was just… Bucky.

And that was something he wasn’t sure he deserved. 

He met her at a quiet little bookstore tucked away in Brooklyn, the kind of place that reminded him of the 1940s—dusty wooden shelves, warm lighting, and the faint smell of old paper and coffee. Steve had suggested he start getting out more, “reintroducing” himself to the world. Bucky had scoffed at first, but then he stumble into The Bluebird Bookshop on accident, really.

Or maybe on purpose… He didn’t know anymore.

What he did know was that Y/N had been there, curled up in one of the worn armchairs, completely engrossed in a book. She hadn’t noticed him at first, which was, honestly, a rare occurrence for Bucky. People always noticed him—either because of the metal arm, the history attached to his name, or the hesitance in his posture,

But she hadn’t even looked up. At least he didn’t see her glance at him.

Y/N had noticed him lingering, flipping through an old Hemingway novel, pretending to read but really just watching her out of the corner of his eye. She was completely lost from the plot but continued to flip the pages to distract herself. She bit her lip when she tried to concentrate, brows furrowed slightly as she still felt his eyes on her. She closed the book softly and smiled as she looked up.

Bucky froze, caught red-handed staring. He had expected wariness, maybe even fear in her eyes. Instead, Y/N continued to smile—this soft, knowing thing that made his stomach flip in a way he didn’t quite understand.

“Didn’t take you for a Hemingway guy,” she had said, tilting her head.

Bucky had blinked, then glanced down at the book in his hands like he had forgotten he was holding it.

“Uh–yeah. I mean… I was,” he muttered awkwardly. “Back in the day.”

That had piqued her interest.

“Back in the day, huh?” she had mused, eyes flicking over him curiously. Then she had gestured to the seat across from her. “You want to talk books, Hemingway?”

And somehow, that was how it started.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky kept finding himself at The Bluebird Bookshop. He told himself it was because he liked the atmosphere, the quiet, the books. But deep down, he knew the real reason.

Y/N.

She had this way of making him feel… normal. She never asked about his past unless he brought it up. Never tiptoed around him like he was fragile. Instead, she talked to him about books, music, history, and sometimes, her life.

She loved reading in her free time, obviously. Had a soft spot for old jazz records and always carried a notebook where she scribbled down thoughts, half-finished poems, and ideas for stories she swore she would write one day.

She was good, in a way that didn’t feel forced. And Bucky found himself wanting to be around that goodness.

He tried to keep his distance at first, afraid of what it meant, what he was feeling. But Y/N was patient, and steady. She let him move at his own pace, never pushing, never demanding.

And Bucky?

Bucky fell.

It happened slowly, in the quiet moments between conversations about books and late-night walks home. In the way, she made him coffee just how he liked it, without him ever telling her. In the way she always saved a seat for him at the bookshop, like she just knew he would show up.

In the way, she looked at him—not like he was a soldier or a killer or a man out of time.

Just Bucky. 

Her Bucky.

And maybe, just maybe that was enough.

[wileys-russo]

aitana bonmatí “but you always do it”, locker room

you can do it II a.bonmatí

"looking a little worse for wear there amiga." you sent a side eye to mapi who held her hands up in defence with a whistle at the withering glare, slinking away to go bother someone else.

"ay chica why is your girl so grumpy?" patri chuckled to aitana watching the interaction, the huffs and glares sent by you to anyone who came within five feet of you incredibly out of character.

"do not ask." aitana sighed knowing full well why you were being so stand offish, having kept her distance all morning and walking on egg shells with every interaction.

"what did you do tana?" frido grinned from on her other side with a raised eyebrow as the girl laced up her boots and frowned. "nothing! she is not angry, she is tired." aitana sighed with a roll of her eyes.

"i will ask again, what did you do?" frido laughed as the shorter girl bumper her shoulder into the swede's. "nothing. we got a puppy, sí?" the midfielder started to explain as both patri and frido nodded, everyone having been fighting for days now to come and meet your new fur baby.

"well, she has been trying to crate train him but it is not going well." your girlfriend sighed, watching with a wince as you struggled to get your boots on, grumbling in annoyance to yourself under your breath.

"he just cries and cries until she sits beside the crate or lets him out. so she has barely been sleeping but she will not listen to me about ignoring him crying so he learns she will not come every time!" the brunette explained with a roll of her eyes as the girls either side of her hummed in understanding.

"ah, so it is your fault." patri hummed as frido agreed and the shorter girl looked at them both in bewilderment. "no! it is her fault for not listening to me and listening to the dog instead." aitana huffed pulling her socks up.

"sure tana, go tell your girlfriend that. i am sure that will improve her mood!" frido chuckled, squeezing her shoulder as she and patri stood to leave the locker room, most of the girls having already filed out to the pitch for training.

watching you on your phone as you were now ready for training aitana sighed knowing you were likely watching the puppy camera you'd insisted on having installed so in the brief times neither of you weren't home you could keep an eye on your new fur baby, and you'd even sprung for the more expensive one which allowed you to speak to it through an app.

grabbing her hairbrush and an elastic you looked up as aitana sat down beside you, a hopeful smile on her face as you spied the objects in her hand.

"tana por favor i am too tired, do it yourself or ask ingrid." you sighed, clicking off your phone and dumping it in your bag as you rubbed your eyes.

"but you always do it." the brunette pushed gently, knocking her knee against yours and smiling softly as you shook your head, face buried in your hands. "not today amor."

"lo sé cari, i know you are tired i heard you get up and down and up and down and-" aitana shut up the moment your eyes glared at her, grinning apologetically.

"if you heard me so many times the you could have gotten up and helped aitana." your girlfriend winced at the use of her full name, something that rarely left your lips and only further cemented your bad mood today.

"lo siento mi amor. how about tonight i will be on puppy duty?" she offered as you gave her a suspicious look. "really?" you questioned, your girlfriend never having offered before not that you'd really asked given the dog was mostly your idea anyway.

"but. i will be doing it my way bebé, he needs to learn that just because he cries you will not go running to him every time or else he will not adjust to the crate, no?" she spoke firmly but softly as you sighed and nodded, knowing even if you'd struggled to do so that she was right.

"perfecto. so tonight i will sleep downstairs in the spare room, i will put el perrito in his crate just outside the door and you will get a good nights sleep. vale?" your girlfriend raised an eyebrow as you nodded, aitana relaxing as a small smile graced your features.

"vale. muchas gracias mi vida." you leaned in to peck her lips sweetly a few times before tugging the hairbrush and elastic from her hand, chuckling as within seconds she was sat expectantly on the floor between your legs ready for you to braid her hair.

"now if only el perrito was as well trained as you tana." "amor!"