#I really hope it looks okay to you all I spent my entire day on this :(

[tender-rosiey]

oh em gosh imagine gojo with an s/o who's basically as obsessed and in love with him as he is with us <33 and every1 is just like 😒ugh get a room

back and forth — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: equally being obsessed with each other>>> also check out @novelbear her prompts are out of their world! I used some of the dialogue prompts hehe

you would like to say that you’re immune to satoru’s charms, but then you would be a liar.

sometimes you, sure, can say no, but most of the time you indulge him. he uses his pretty face and even prettier words to get his way. it does reassure you that you have the same effect on him. actually, he can never say no to you.

he once sat with himself to think that maybe he is spoiling you, and he needs to stop, but then you entered the room beaming, smooching his face and asking to go to that one café that opened recently.

satoru’s original plan was to do the paperwork yaga has been yelling to him about, but how can he say no to you? so with a grin, he locked arms with you and the both of you skipped to the café.

so yeah, you’re both so down horrendous for each other and neither of you can deny it.

it’s terrible for everyone around you.

the way the both of you are screaming each other’s name from a mile away and running towards each other like you're in some romance movie. the hug is even more dramatic than the running, somehow.

the balant display of affection makes the students all roll their eyes.

one time, you called satoru from home and you had a call that lasted for an hour or so. eventually, you had to hang up since satoru had a class to teach. however, these goodbyes take even longer than the call itself.

“I love you, ‘toru!”

“I love you, my pretty angel!”

“I love you more, my lovely husband!”

“I love you even more, my divine wifey!”

and it continued like that forever. the students almost lost hope to get any education that day, but satoru finally said, “okay, pretty, I have to go now.”

they beam as they hear your voice replying with a sweet ‘okay!’, but they quickly deflated when satoru relaxed back and said, “but you have to hang up first.”

of course, what followed was a ‘no, you hang up first!’.

one and after another and nobara had enough before snatching satoru’s phone and instead speaking to you, “okay, y/n-sensei, we all love you, but we need this guy to teach us something so bye!”

satoru spent the entire day pouting.

another thing is how the both of you take pictures of the other while they are unaware. at first, you would think there is nothing wrong with it, and there isn’t.

but both of you love to fawn about the other in front of your students or friends.

satoru rambles with the most passionate and energetic fangirling ever to nanami, an audience that’s about to jump off a building, and you, who refuses to believe his beauty, ramble to shoko who’s about to finish 4 packs of cigarettes.

in general, satoru is a lot more brazen with his show of affection. for example, the way he shamelessly stares at you like he is memorizing your every feature.

sometimes, his hands wander to your face to gently caress it, then his lips follow, pressing a peck to every part of your face, drawing constellations of love. he then pulls back with a smile, “you’re really pretty, y’know?”

he always says what’s on his mind, and he is the type of lover to help you challenge your limits. he pays the people around him no mind as he pulls you in the rain with a grin, saying, “come on, dance with me!”

and you do your best. you’re both clumsy in your steps and you’re swaying more than dancing. satoru’s infinity is off and you’re both soaked.

still, satoru thinks you’ve never looked prettier, and you think his eyes never shone brighter.

there are times when words escape you before you think about them like that one time satoru was in a mini rush to go on a mission and forgot to give you a goodbye kiss. before he dashed out the door, you held him by the shirt and frowned, “my kiss?”

despite his blindfold, shock was evident on his face. he recovered quickly though. with a chuckle, he murmured a soft, “right sorry, wifey,” and kissed you passionately. he pulled back slightly, “am I forgiven?”

you nodded lightly and kissed his cheek, “yup; now go, mister strongest sorcerer.”

“I prefer my lovely husband, but that will do as well.”

he likes to tease you too. it’s in his nature, something he does with everyone he knows. of course, there is some teasing reserved especially for you.

satoru also loves hearing you sing his praises or verbalize your love for him. like that one time you were going on a mission and murmured an ‘I love you’ to his lips, but he quickly stopped you and said, “what did you say, pretty?”

you looked at him confused, “I said I love you,” you poke his cheek, “you heard me.”

he laughed, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your neck, “I know; I just wanted you to say it again.”

you wanted to roll your eyes, but instead, you cupped his face, pulled him down, and started smothering him with kisses. you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I love you,” then the other one, “I adore you,” his forehead, “I am infatuated with you,” his eyelids, “I can’t imagine a day without you.”

a big wide grin was plastered on satoru’s face and his cheeks were painted a very faint hue of red. you chuckled at his expression, “was that enough?”

he enveloped you in a big hug, resting his face on yours, “one more time, please?”

for you, you see satoru in a several things in your daily life. you see him in the blue sky above you. you see him in the glass of the bakery you pass by. you see him in the white cat that always walks by your side near the school.

you also hear him in the some of the songs you listen to, and you don’t hesitate to let him know.

one time when you were stargazing on the roofs of the school, playing your playlist since the time before it was satoru’s turn. a specific song started playing and it made you smile, before you spoke up, “y’know, satoru.”

he hums and you continue, “this song reminds me of you.”

you don’t hear a response, so you turn to look at him, “it’s actually one of my favori—satoru? satoru, are you tearing up?!” you laugh, leaning close to him, and he looks away.

“nope!”

behind closed doors, and with great distances separating the both of you, you never fail to call the other to feel their presence even through a phone. it’s practically a ritual for you and satoru to video call whenever one is out on a mission.

you can talk for hours and hours on end or relish in the silence, comforted by the fact that you can see each other.

satoru always insists on them, saying that he sleeps better when he see you. you share the same sentiment, so there’s no surprise that you both always fall asleep on call.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo imagine #jjk imagines #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo x y/n #jjk gojo x you #jjk fluff #satoru x you

[vanteguccir]

All Too Well | Chris Sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Chris misplace his priorities.

Warning: Fighting, crying, cursing. ANGST with a happy ending.

Requested?: Yes, by anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N felt her heart sink as she watched Chris frantically scrolling through his phone, barely paying attention to her. The silence in the living room echoed the tension that had been building between them over the past few weeks, the memory of the previous day's event still fresh in Y/N's mind.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N sighed contentedly as she set the dark wooden table carefully, placing the plates and cutlery impeccably. She had spent the entire afternoon preparing Chris's favorite dish, with fresh ingredients, for the romantic dinner they had planned to have after the triplets recorded the video that would be posted next Friday. Everything was perfect, except for the emptiness that began to settle in her chest as the hours passed and Chris didn't appear.

At eight sharp, Y/N sat at the table, her heart filled with anticipation and anxiety. She watched the stairs leading to the front door with every sound she heard, willing him to come. But as the minutes dragged on, anxiety turned to despair.

Nine o'clock passed, and Y/N was still sitting alone at the table, her stomach churning with hunger and worry and her eyes staring into space, small tears burning her cornea. She tried calling Chris several times, but every call went to voicemail, as well as her messages going unread.

At ten o'clock, Y/N couldn't take it anymore. Thick tears began to stream down her face as she looked at the still untouched plate in front of her. The romantic dinner she had so lovingly prepared now seemed like a cruel reminder of her dashed hope.

With a choked sob, Y/N got up from the table, feeling completely desolate, her belly hurting from the weight and sobs that made her body shake. She carefully put the food away in the fridge, her hands shaking with disappointment.

That night, Y/N fell asleep in her boyfriend's room with a heavy heart and eyes swollen with tears, wondering if she would ever have the courage to take some initiative, before it was too late.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N was standing in front of the cinema, her heart full of expectation as she held a bucket of popcorn in her hands. She looked from side to side nervously, trying to spot Chris among the crowds rushing along the sidewalk. Time was running out, and her nervousness increased as the clock on her phone showed just ten minutes until the start of the movie, and her boyfriend still hadn't appeared.

And then, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her, Y/N's phone vibrated, indicating a new message. She grabbed the device anxiously, hoping to see an apology or explanation from Chris for the delay. But what she heard was something that made her shake with rage.

"Hi, baby." Chris’s voice sounded through the voicemail, but instead of an apology, there was a note of indifference in his words. "I know we planned to go to the movies today, but a last-minute party came up that I really need to go to. Do you remember Tara Yummy? It's hers! Well, I'm sorry for canceling like that at the last minute. Maybe we can meet up later, okay? Bye."

Y/N felt her world collapse upon hearing those words. Chris's betrayal, his indifference to her feelings as he sent her the message just to break her as if it was some kind of promise, cut like a sharp knife. She clutched her phone tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Anger and sadness consumed her, bubbling inside her chest like a volcano about to erupt. With a cry of frustration, Y/N threw the bucket of popcorn and the tickets into the nearest trash bin, tears streaming freely down her cheeks as she felt suffocated by disappointment and pain.

And that night, Y/N walked away from the cinema, her heart broken and her confidence destroyed.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Chris." She began, shaking her head gently to shake the memories away, her voice trembling with the anguish she carried. "We need to talk."

Chris looked up from his phone for a moment, his tired eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to the bright screen in his hands.

"Not now, Y/N. I'm busy."

Those words hit Y/N like a punch in the stomach. She felt increasingly isolated and neglected, while Chris's world revolved around his career and his influential friends.

"You're always busy, Chris." Y/N murmured, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape her eyes. "There's never time for us."

Chris sighed, irritation rising across his skin like a shiver. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before looking up at the girl again, giving her a look full of hatred, which she had never seen before.

"I have responsibilities, Y/N. You know that. I can't just ignore my work to pay attention to you."

"I'm not asking you to ignore it." Y/N snapped, her voice rising in desperation. "I'm just asking for a little time for us. For our relationship. Yesterday you-"

Chris shook his head quickly, interrupting her, the traces of frustration deepening on his face.

"I already said I'm sorry! You always do this, Y/N. You're always trying to change who I am and what I do. You always try to change my priorities, like my world has to revolve around you. That's not how things work!"

Those words cut Y/N like a sharp blade, knocking all the air out of her lungs. She wasn't trying to change him. She just wanted to feel like he cared about her as much as he cared about his fame, but instead, he made her feel like a random crumpled up piece of paper.

"I just want you to include me in your life." Y/N whispered, her voice shaking with pain as her eyes blinked repeatedly, her eyelashes slowly becoming wet with tiny droplets from tears. "But it always seems like there's something more important."

Chris snorted, throwing the phone roughly onto his lap and turning abruptly to face her, an expression of disdain filling his eyes.

"You know what? Maybe it would be better if you took some time to think about what you really want, because it seems to me that everything I do isn't enough, and if you're not genuinely happy in this relationship, maybe you should evaluate your preferences!"

Chris' words echoed in Y/N's mind, leaving her stunned. She felt as if she had been hit by a train of conflicting emotions.

With a lump in her throat, the girl stood up from the couch abruptly, her legs shaking under the weight of her grief as her chest burned intensely, anguish gnawing at her insides.

"Maybe you're right." Y/N muttered, shrugging, her voice cracking with pain. "Maybe I need some time to figure out what I really want... Right?"

Chris watched in silence as Y/N walked away, her tears finally spilling freely down her cheeks, her lips pressed into a thin line tightly in an attempt to stop the sobs that wanted to escape.

The brunette frowned, watching his girlfriend's wet cheeks against the cool light of the room, feeling his chest hurt and his throat tighten, begging to call her back, and apologize, but the words seemed to get stuck.

And so, Y/N left the triplets house that night, taking with her a broken heart and a soul full of uncertainty about the future of their relationship.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The frigid night air bit into Chris' skin as he walked through the empty streets of LA, his body shaking not only from the cold but also from the anxiety and remorse that consumed him. He couldn't bear another night without Y/N by his side, without feeling her comforting touch and hearing her soft laugh filling the silence.

His steps were heavy and slow, each carrying the weight of days of loneliness and regret that piled up on his shoulders. The memory of Y/N's desolate and disappointed face haunted his thoughts, an image that haunted him incessantly, preventing him from finding peace even at bedtime.

Chris knew he had done wrong, that he had hurt the person he loved most in the world with his negligence and misplaced priorities. He blamed himself for his actions, for putting his work and his friends before her, for leaving her alone and helpless at times when she needed him most, or just wanted his company and love.

The mere memory of coming home on Thursday before everything fell apart, and finally seeing all the lost messages from his girl, along with a plate full of his favorite food neatly packed in the fridge made his heart ache as if human hands were squeezing it.

As he made his way through the deserted streets, the silence of the night was deafening, a cruel metaphor for the loneliness he had caused himself. Each step brought him closer to the home that had once been his refuge, the place where he found comfort in Y/N's arms and where he hoped he could right the wrongs he had done.

Finally, the brunette arrived at the door of the small, simple house, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he hesitated to ring the doorbell. He knew he didn't deserve Y/N's forgiveness, that his empty words and broken promises couldn't erase the pain he caused.

But he had to try. He had to show her that he was sorry, that he loved her more than anything in this world, and that he would do anything to have her back by his side.

With a shaky sigh, Chris finally pressed the doorbell and waited, his heart hammering in his chest as he crossed his arms, shifting his weight from one leg to the other in an act of nervousness, the cold of the night penetrating his bones.

On the other side of the door, Y/N hesitated, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she tried to gather the courage to face the stranger that was there. The last few days had been a storm of sadness and loneliness, her mind spinning in circles of anguish as she struggled to understand what had happened between her and Chris, where everything went wrong.

When she finally mustered enough courage to turn the doorknob, what she saw made her freeze in place. Chris was there, standing in front of her, his eyes red and swollen from crying. His face was contorted into an expression of pain and regret, and Y/N felt her heart tighten even more at the sight of the person she loved so much in a deplorable state.

"Chris." Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to process the scene before her eyes.

Chris didn't say anything, he couldn't. He just sobbed, thick tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he fought to contain the overwhelming emotions that overwhelmed him. His body shook violently, each sob a painful reminder of all the mistakes he had made in the last few weeks.

Y/N felt tears in her own eyes as she looked at him, her heart breaking at the pain she saw reflected in his eyes. Without thinking, she stepped forward and wrapped Chris in a tight hug, letting him cry on her shoulder as she gently stroked his hair, her own tears silently streaming down her cheeks.

For long minutes, they stayed there, lost in each other's arms that transcended the words and hurts. It was as if, in that moment, their wounded souls found a refuge in each other, a source of comfort and peace amid the chaos their lives had become.

"Baby! B-baby, I'm- I'm so sorry, so fucking sorry-" The boy's words came out in broken sobs, his words almost incomprehensible.

Y/N closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her heart clenching by her own pain. With a sigh, she pulled away lightly, holding his hand firmly and gently guiding him into her house, closing the door behind them, the warmth of the walls enveloping their cold bodies.

Y/N led Chris over to the living room couch, keeping a cautious distance as he sat down next to her on the cushioned seat. Uncomfortable silence hung between them, filled with tension and unspoken emotions, as Y/N waited patiently for Chris to find the words to express what was in his heart.

Finally, after a long moment, Chris broke the silence, his voice still cracked from his recent crying.

"Baby, I... I know I was wrong. I know I hurt you deeply with my actions, and I never wanted to make you feel that way."

Chris sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he tried to find the right words, his right leg bouncing up and down in anxiety.

"I was so obsessed with YouTube, with my success, that I ended up neglecting the most important thing in my life: you. I got lost in the cool lights and the adrenaline of fame, and I forgot how much you mean to me. And I'm so fucking sorry for that." His lower lip trembled slightly, making him trap it between his teeth.

The boy's words cut deep into Y/N, reigniting the pain and hurt she had kept inside. She felt tempted to step away to protect her heart from the possibility of being hurt again. But something in Chris's eyes made her hesitate, something she recognized as genuine regret and love.

"Chris..." Y/N began, her voice shaky and filled with uncertainty. "You don't understand how much it hurt me every time you kept me waiting, every time you put your work and your friends before me. I felt so alone, so unappreciated."

"I know, Y/N. And I'm sorry, from the bottom of my heart. I would do anything to make things right, to prove that you're my real priority." Chris lowered his head, frowning and fixing his eyes on his legs, guilt weighing on his shoulders.

Y/N raised her right hand, taking it to his chin covered with the beard he had let grow in the last few days, pushing it up so that she could look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and desperation reflected there.

She wanted to believe him and wanted to open her heart to forgiveness and the possibility of a future together again. But the pain of everything that had been done brought her such insecurity that she knew she needed time to heal.

"I don't know, Chris." Y/N murmured, the hand that was holding his chin falling with a thud onto her lap. "I'm still hurt, I'm still trying to process everything that happened. I don't know if I can just forgive and forget."

Chris swallowed hard, fear evident in his eyes as his mind screamed at him to do everything, anything. Even if he needed to kneel in front of his girl to get her back.

"Please, Y/N. I promise I'll do everything to make this right, to be the boyfriend you deserve. Just give me a chance to prove that I can change."

Y/N looked at him again, seeing the vulnerability in his gaze. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but there was something about Chris, something she couldn't ignore, something that gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to the way they were before.

With a resigned sigh, Y/N reached her hand out to Chris again, taking his and intertwining their fingers tightly, her heart warming with the touch she had missed so much.

"I forgive you, Chris." She murmured, her voice sounding soft but her eyes carrying an indescribable firmness. "But know that things are going to have to change. Your priorities are going to have to take the right path this time."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @bellasfavbisexual @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @bellasfavbisexual @soso-scarlettolivia @maryx2xx @sturnolio-luvs @sturnsjtop

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #oneshot #imagine #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris fanfic #chris au #chrissy #chris #chris sturniolo x reader fluff #chris sturniolo x yn #chris sturniolo x reader angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #all too well

[popcat69]

Incorrect Tmnt quotes

Mikey: What does 'take out' mean? Donnie: Food. Leo: Dating Raph: Murder Y/n: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

Donnie: Favourite horror movie?

Mikey: It

Raph: Saw

Leo: Annabelle

Y/n: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

Leo: Croissants: dropped

Raph: Road: works ahead

Y/n: BBQ sauce: on my titties

April: Shavacado: fre

Mikey: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

Donnie:

Donnie: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

Y/n: Change is inedible.

Donnie: Don't you mean inevitable?

Y/n, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

Mikey: Hey Donnie,

Donnie: Yes?

Mikey: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Donnie:

Donnie: Where’s Y/n?

Donnie: April isn’t answering their phone

Y/n: I’ll call

Donnie: Casey and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

April: Hello?

Y/n: Top 30 reasons why y/n is sorry... Number 5 will surprise you!

Raph: Top 30 anime deaths. Number One: YOUR FUCKING ASS RIGHT NOW!!!

Mikey: I'm incredibly fast at maths.

Y/n: Alright, what's 30x17?

Mikey: 47

Y/n: That's not even close.

Mikey: But it was fast.

Donnie: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something?

Raph: Nope, absolutely not.

Leo: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through.

Mikey: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life.

Casey: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you.

Y/n: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Splinter: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.

Everyone:

Leo: ...I did. I broke it.

Splinter: No. No you didn't. Mikey?

Mikey: Don't look at me. Look at Y/n.

Y/n: What?! I didn't break it.

Mikey: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Y/n: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Mikey: Suspicious.

Y/n: No, it's not!

Raph: If it matters, probably not, but April was the last one to use it.

April: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Raph: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

April: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Raph!

Leo: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, person A.

Splinter: No! Who broke it!?

Everyone:

Raph: Splinter... Donnie’s been awfully quiet.

Donnie: rEALLY?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Splinter, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.

Splinter: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Splinter:

Splinter: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

'Can I copy the homework?'

Donnie: I can help you with it!

April: Yeah, sure.

Y/n: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Raph: lol nope.

Mikey: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Leo: *Read 5:55pm*

Leo: bitches b like “im baby” but have childhood trauma and neglect like wtf do u know about being baby u were forced to grow up from an early age anyways I’m bitches

Leo, driving y/n and April: So how was your day?

Y/n: We almost got surprise adopted!

Leo: What?

April: We almost got kidnapped.

Leo: Oh, okay.

Leo: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

#donatello x reader #donnie x reader #leonardo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt x reader fluff #mikey tmnt #2012 tmnt x reader #platonic tmnt x reader #raphael tmnt #tmnt #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt x gn reader #tmnt x reader platonic #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #turtle tots

[taifenggg]

Lovestruck[Demon Bros]

Things the bros do because they're simps for you.

CW: mild cursing

Characters: GN!Reader(no pronouns specified), Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

Authors Notes: I actually have a huge amount of requests for my other accounts but since I’m impulsive and have no sense of impulse control, I made another writing account for the sole reason that I wanted to ramble about Obey Me LMAOOO

[Dateables Here]

Lucifer [🦚💙]

He listens to you, even when he's busy

“Luciferrr,” you poke your head into his room, after knocking on his door. You stroll in taking in the sight of a somewhat disheveled Lucifer, sitting behind stacks of paperwork. A few buttons at the top of his shirt are undone and his tie is loose around his neck. You resist the urge to stare longer than you need to, turning away and plopping down in one of the armchairs in his room.

“I’m busy.” Although his words are blunt, there’s no actual malice behind them. You take that as a sign that since he didn’t actually tell you to leave that it was okay for you to stay. You lean over the side of your chair, sighing somewhat dramatically. “You’ll never believe what happened earlier.” And soon, you find yourself rambling about your day to Lucifer, speaking whatever comes to your mind. Every time you glance up at Lucifer, it seems as though he’s busy with whatever paperwork he’s subjecting himself to, but you ignore it and continue speaking.

Unbeknownst to you, Lucifer had actually stopped quite a while back ago, he was busy staring at the same line again and again, but somehow he couldn’t find the urge to continue working when all he could focus in on was your voice. His finger tapped absentmindedly at his pen as the edges of his lips quirked up every so slightly finding the way you were sprawled over the chair somewhat amusing. 

Mammon [💰💛]

He’ll do something with you, even if he’s inclined not to

“D-do we have to do this?” Mammon’s hand squeezed yours tightly and you could feel how clammy it was against yours. You pouted at him, your lip jutting out, “Mammonnnn come on, can we please go into the haunted house? It’s supposedly much scarier than last years!” Your expression softens as you watch him visibly stiffen at the prospect of going in, “Well on second thought-”

“Nono, lets do it. T-the Great Mammon will protect you from anything that jumps out at us!” He points at himself, puffing his chest out to make himself seem more imposing. You resist the urge to laugh at how goofy he looks despite the fact that he’s clearly scared shitless. “Okay, okay,” you reach over to ruffle his hair, hoping that in doing so could help alleviate some of the nerves he was feeling. 

“Oi, what’re you doing?” Mammon’s face flushes, but he doesn’t stop you, and instead leans into your hand more. Giving your hand one more squeeze, he charged towards the haunted house with you in tow. Needless to say the both of you spent the entire time clinging to each other when you're in there. 

Leviathan [🐍🧡]

He has a playlist of songs that reminds him of you

“Levi, I just listened to that one artist you recommended to me, and I gotta say, their songs are absolute bangers,” You grin at him, “You have really good music taste!” Leviathan blushes from the compliment, turning to the side, “Well they actually dropped a new song recently, let me share it with you, I have it in my playlist.” He pulled out his D.D.D to open his Devilfy, scrolling through the numerous playlists that he had.

His finger pauses in its scrolling as it hovers over a certain playlist titled, “My Henry.” He glances up at you, feeling himself grow flustered as he quickly looks away once more, typing in the song instead of trying to scroll and find it and sends it to you. “Thanks! I got it!” You beam at him, shooting him a thumbs up from where you’re seated, and putting in your earbuds to stream it. 

He’s grateful he made the playlist private, lest he deal with any questions from your end. 

Satan [😾💚]

He sees parts of you in characters in his stories

“What do you have there?” you peeked over his shoulder, draping your arms over him. If it were any of his brothers, he would have found himself snapping at them and pushing them away, but since it was you Satan found himself leaning more into you touch. “A book I recently acquired,” he smiled, reaching over to squeeze your hand. 

“Mhmm, anything interesting?” You absentmindedly traced the outline of his fingers with yours and Satan swore he could feel his heartbeat going faster. “Well, in a way the main character of this book is kind of like you. They’re kind, and they’re not afraid to stand up for what they believe is right,” He chuckles softly, turning the page with his free hand. You deadpanned, shaking your head, “You’re just describing every generic, heroic main character out there.”

Satan paused, setting his book down slightly as he turned to look at you, a gentle smile on his face. His hand reaches up, brushing your cheek, “I suppose, but they are traits that define you as well.”

Asmodeus [💋🩷]

He’s always seeking to try things with you

“Y/N! There’s this new café that opened up near Ristorante Six, want to come try it with me?” Asmo grabbed your arm, hugging it tight, almost as if he was afraid you would slip away from his grasp. You turned to face him, laughing softly as you transferred his hand into yours. “Didn’t you just go there the other day?” you teased him lightly.

Asmo pouted slightly, holding onto your hand even tighter, “Since the line was so long I didn’t get to try everything that I wanted to because they were limiting the number of items a single customer could order, that’s why I want to bring you with me! Plus it’s super pretty there, pleaseeeee?” You held his gaze, your resolve wavering slightly, you had planned on doing something else but seeing how badly he wanted to go you couldn’t help but relent.

“Alright, alright, of course I’ll go,” you laughed lightly. Asmo’s face lit up upon hearing your answer, tugging you along with him, “Great! I have a few other things planned out, so hopefully you don’t mind if I steal you for a few hours~”

Beelzebub [🍔❤️]

He seeks out your opinion before deciding on anything. 

“Bloody Terrine, Deep-Fried Devil Zebra, Devildom Stir-fry with Toxic Chameleon-”

“Beel you’re drooling,” you laugh softly, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth. He takes it from you, his stomach rumbling from the thought of what he wanted to eat. “Y/N, what should I get?” His eyes focus in on you after a few seconds of staring at the menu. “Huh?” you’re slightly startled from his sudden question. “You should get whatever you’re feeling Beel, I mean you’re the one eating it.”

Beel shook his head, continuing to hold your gaze, “I want to hear your thoughts as well,” a slight flush dusts his face, but it’s barely visible. You smile softly, looking up at the menu, thinking for a second. “Mmmm well you got Bloody Terrine yesterday, and Deep-Fried Devil Zebra a few days before right? Why not get the stir-fry?” Beel takes in your thoughts, thinking on it for a moment before beaming at you, “Okay I’ll do that, thanks Y/N.”

Belphegor [🐮💜]

He prioritizes your comfort over his own

Belphie opened his eyes slowly, a smile finding its way onto his face as he stared at you, asleep next to him. However that smile soon turns into a frown as he studies the way your face is scrunched up, almost as if you were having a bad dream.

Belphie gently untangles himself from you, brushing a hand over the top of your head. Almost immediately, your face relaxes and you let out a puff of air as you slip into a more comfortable slumber. Belphie continues brushing his hand through your hair, carefully so he wouldn’t end up waking you up. Sure he was tired, but he would have rather helped you than just leaving you to fend for yourself when it came to the nightmares that plagued your sleep. His tail curls around your leg comfortingly, holding you in place so that you don’t end up rolling away but at the same time you’re still near him. 

Belphie sighs softly as he settles back down next to you, rearranging his limbs so that they weren’t in your way. Although it wasn’t the most comfortable position, it was better than nothing. 

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[taintedcigs]

✦ STRAWBERRIES & CREAM | steve h. x reader ✦

wc: 2k+

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ !!smut, smut smut!!, MINORS DNI!! swearing, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, princess, etc.) p in v, praises!! lots of praises! degrading if u squint really really hard but not really!! slight dom!steve, but mostly soft!dom!steve, sub!reader, kind of a breeding kink, creampie, steve is v horny, aftercare!! shitty aftercare bc i suck at writing endings JUST OVERALL FILTH MINORS DNI!!!

summary: you make steve a strawberry cake, and steve wants to return the favor.

authors note: FIRST TIME WRITING STEVE SMUT IM EXCITED!! im so very sorry about the shitty ending and the shitty aftercare, i had shitty men so i cannot write good aftercare OKAY!!! nah im jk hope yall enjoy it, PLS PLS leave me some feedback they r my joy and hope!! ALSO COME TALK TO ME IN ASKS, OR SEND ME PM IM V FRIENDLY I LOVE TALKING TO PPL okay that's it enjoy!! mwah xo, em💌

steve loves it. he absolutely loves when you do something for him, he adores the pretty smile you give him when he tells you how much he loves whatever it is you did for him.

but he can't help but get horny, so fucking horny when you do something for him. anything. when you bring him coffee at work, he's hard as a rock. when you take care of him after a stressful day, he's grateful, so grateful, but his bulge is tightening his pants.

and right now, when he sees you in your tight little sun dress as you're holding out a strawberry cake, his favorite, he knows he's about to explode.

he groans, actually groans as you dip your finger in the frosting holding out your fingers in front of his lips, his cock is strained in his pants, he needs you, and he needs you now.

his gaze remains attached to yours as he sucks on your finger, the rich flavors engulf his mouth, and he makes a popping sound causing you to rub your thighs together with the way his gaze devours you.

'what d'ya think?' you give him a small smile, excited for his feedback as you spent the entire day working on steve's favorite cake.

'tastes so fuckin' sweet, darlin' he murmurs as you giggle, looking up to him all doe-eyed, and steve swears you're doing it on purpose.

'do you like my surprise?' you ask, your eyes are lit up with hope and steve is putty in your hands, he adores the way your face is covered in flour, and he's quick to swipe it away, admiring your features.

'i love it, baby, you made this just for me?' he teases, his soft hands cup your cheeks, and you nod quickly, melting into his hands.

'mhmm, just for you stevie.' you murmur as you plant a kiss into his palm, and it's so soft, so fragile that steve feels perverted by the way he's thinking about you.

but he's desperate, so fucking desperate that all he wants to do is bend you over the counter and thrust into you till you scream out his name, making you cum over and over again while he watches your pretty face contort.

'wanna taste some too, stevie.' you whine as you point towards the cake, steve's pants tighten at what you're insinuating and he bites his cheek, his fingers dip into the frosting as he holds it in front of you.

you are quick to take his hand in yours, licking the frosting as you suck on his finger, all while holding your gaze with his, and you can almost see his pretty chestnut orbs become dark and lustful.

'you have no idea what you're doing to me, princess.' he sucks in a breath, 'fuck.' he almost groans and you look up at him all innocently.

'my pretty girl.' he murmurs as his lips crash into yours, they taste like strawberries and cream, he's gentle but rough, and so very needy.

'need you baby, need you s'fuckin' badly.' he groans into your lips, 'stevie...' you whine, pleading.

'what does my pretty girl need?' he cooes. 'you. need you inside.' you whine, so needily, so prettily that steve has no choice but to take care of his girl.

before you can comprehend it steve is quick to bend you over the kitchen counter, pressing your head on the cold counter with one hand while the other one is quick to unzip his pants.

'i got you, baby... i'm gonna give you everything you fuckin' need, princess.' he flips up your dress, groaning at the sight as he gives you a rough slap on your cheeks, making you yelp.

'shh, princess... you can take it, mmm? my good lil' girl can take it.' he lays a messy kiss on your back, giving you another slap as you whine again.

'p-please... need more, need your cock, stevie...' you plead, and steve pouts. 'such a needy lil' baby, are ya?' he mocks, and you nod, you want— need him.

his tip is leaking with pre-cum as he gives it a few tugs at the sight of your ass cheeks being covered with his handprints, he smirks, smugly. 's'fuckin' gorgeous...' he murmurs, he tugs at your lacy panties, dragging them down your thighs.

he's slow to kiss every inch of your thighs, he spreads them apart, placing sloppy kisses in your inner thigh from the back as your breath hitches, 'stevie...' you murmur.

'you say my name so pretty.' he praises, 'tell me what you want, doll.' he's teasing now as his lips come close to your pussy lips, but never close enough that you get what you need.

'p-please, stevie, your hands, your mouth, your cock, anything...' you plead, doe-eyed, and steve knows he could never say no to you.

'pretty baby, you know i would never say no to you if you begged for me like that, hmm?' he cooes, standing up now, cowering over your figure, his eyes are glazed with lust, you can't see him with your ass pressing onto his hardened cock, but from the tone of his voice you know how worked up he is.

his fingers are rough as they pinch your clit, causing you to whine. he slips one finger into your soaking folds, going deeper and deeper as you cry out, begging for more.

'is this what you wanted, sweets?' he murmurs, his lips are on your neck, sucking, nibbling, marking you in any way that he can.

'yes, yes!' you whine, steve's fingers are fast as they work in and out of you, his mouth is on each part of your body, almost. you can feel his thick cock, pressing harder against your ass, and it is driving you crazy, you need him inside of you.

'n-need more, stevie. need your cock.' you plead.

'does my good lil' girl want my cock inside?' he cooes, mockingly, making you nod frantically, 'yes, please stevie, please!' you cry out.

'what my pretty girl want, she gets.' he murmurs as he lines his angry tip along your entrance. he holds his cock with one hand while the other has a tight grip on your waist, then to tease you further, he starts tapping his leaking tip against your aching clit, letting out a hum.

you whine at the movement, feeling empty. 'such a pretty fuckin' sight, my gorgeous girl.' mewled groans escape his pretty lips, without letting a whine escape your pretty lips again he thrusts his hips into you in a quick movement, causing you to gasp at the feeling.

with both of his hands, he grips your waist, sheathing his cock inside of you slowly and more steadily now, bending you over further as he works his cock inside of you making you moan and whimper beneath him.

'f-fuck, princess. i'll never get used to how well this tight cunt takes me." his voice is raspy.

"so fuckin' warm.' he groans, his head thrown back as you feel your tight cunt stretch with each of his movement.

he sinks deeper, and deeper into you, burying himself to the hilt, making sure that you feel every ridge, every inch of his cock.

he brings one of his hands against your head, pressing you further into the counter as he thrusts further into you, causing you to suck in a breath when his ridge pushes against your clit again.

'harder, stevie, p-please...' you cry out and steve groans at your words, the way you beg him for more makes him squeeze his eyes shut with pleasure.

'my needy fuckin' girl.' he groans as he removes his cock from your warm pussy, and it almost causes you to whine because of the emptiness, begging for him to fill you up, but before you can steve pushes his girthy cock inside of you again, deeper, and harder.

all the thoughts leave his head, the only thing he cares about now is how you are bent over beneath him, begging for more, crying out his name as your ass jiggles each time he holds a tighter grip and shoves his cock inside of your tight hole.

all he cares about is how warm and tight your cunt feels, and all you care about is how well he fills your hole, so big, and his cock is ridged in all the right places that make you scream out his name.

he's not slowing down as he keeps up his thrusts, he wants you creaming his cock, screaming out his name as he fills your walls with his load.

he wants to ruin you and put you back together all at the same time, he wants you desperate, begging to him to let you cum, over and over again, until your clit is so sensitive that you cannot handle it anymore.

the room is filled with steve's curses and his praises, 'takin' me so well sweets.'

'such a good lil' girl for me, aren't ya?' and the sounds of your skin slapping against each other.

'need to cum, stevie. can i please cum?' you plead, whining still, and steve tries to slow down to not let you cum, but he can't help himself, his movements are still quick and he cannot control his pace when you teasingly arch your ass against him, causing your tight cunt to engulf around his cock, he throws his head back in pleasure, eyes squeezed shut.

'f-fuck, baby, doin' so well for me, you can cum for me, babygirl.' he cooes as he bites onto your shoulder to hold himself from spilling his load into you. 'cum for me sweets, cream my cock.'

'i wanna feel you, princess. i wanna feel every fucking inch of this sweet pussy.' he groans as he strokes into you over and over again.

your warm cunt clamps around his cock, steve feels you release through his cock as you cry out for his name.

steve can't hold it in anymore, your pretty whines, the way you moan out his name, and the 'o' shape your pretty little lips take as you orgasm around him is enough to get him to empty his balls inside of you.

's-shit baby, can't hold it in much longer.' he curses.

'cum for me, stevie. wanna feel your warm load inside me.' you whine, praising him, and he groans loudly.

with a final thrust of his lips into your soaked warm cunt, he spills his seed inside of you. you can feel his cock pulse inside of you, it's warm and fills your hole to the brim.

steve groans loudly, and it's so blissful to your ears, he's so beautiful when he's loud and whiny, you think to yourself as your head is filled with nothing but steve.

he collapses on top of you, putting all of his weight onto you, hugging you from behind as you can hear his heavy breathing, still cursing as he praises you.

'my good lil' girl, pretty lil' baby.' he murmurs as he kisses your shoulders, when he's sure that every single drop of his cum is inside of you, he finally slips out.

he turns you around to face him, and you collapse in his arms, feeling dizzy, you hum. 'you're s'good, stevie.' you murmur weakly and it causes a smug chuckle out of steve, he gives your forehead a soft kiss.

'let's get you cleaned up, sweetheart.' you gaze up at him as he picks you up, carrying you with his strong arms.

his honey-glazed eyes are mesmerizing as they look down on you, you adoringly admire his features. he's so pretty after he cums, his beautiful hair lays messily on his forehead, and he has the most adoring gaze.

'wanna take a bath with me? so we can clean you up, pretty girl?' he asks, and you nod. 'mhmm, please.'

he carries you to the bathroom, and you let your hands run over his face, admiring his beauty marks and his always-perfect hair.

'so pretty.' you murmur as steve places you down, running the shower as he chuckles at your comment.

'thank you.' he hums as he places a kiss on your forehead, it's gentle and filled with endearment.

'for what?' you ask, confused.

'for the cake, for the coffees, for all the little things you do for me. and for caring about me, always.' his hands are soft as they cup your cheeks.

'i love you, pretty girl.' he murmurs.

'i love you too, stevie.' you giggle as your lips softly graze against his.

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things imagines #steve harrington x y/n

[stevie-petey]

oh, you didn't know?

“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank.  “Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”

Summary: steve is pathetically in love with you and for some reason the universe hates him and continues to pray on his downfall. typical.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 1.6k

Before you swing in: happy valentines day my loves <333 youre all my valentines, i didnt make the rules. anyways, pls enjoy this cute cheesy fic. dont ask how i thought of this: i simply do not know. however, its pathetic!loverboy!steve and i think we ALL deserve that today smh.

-

Steve has never had the best timing. 

When he first manned up to ask you out, it had coincidentally been the same day your childhood dog died. 

There he had been, flowers in hand and a proud smile on his face when he knocked on your front door, completely taken aback when you answered with tears streaming down your face. 

Immediately, Steve’s smile had dropped and he quickly pulled you close to inspect for any injuries or pain. “Y/N? What happened, is everything okay?”

“My dog died.” You wailed, even more tears spilling over. 

“Oh my god–”

“He… He didn’t suffer. He was old and–” You had sniffed, looking so small and frail in your heartbreak, before spotting the flowers in Steve’s hand. You gasped. “H–How did you know?”

Steve had been confused for a moment, but when he followed your gaze to the flowers that were originally meant to be “please be my girlfriend” flowers, his heart dropped. 

Well fuck. 

“Yes…” He cleared his throat. “I, uh. Had a hunch?”

You threw your arms around Steve, the flowers then crushed between you two, but he hadn't paid any attention to them as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. After a few seconds, you placed your lips by his ear and whispered, “You’re the sweetest.”

The sincerity in your voice had made Steve want to vomit. 

He hadn’t had a hunch that your childhood dog would die that day, but what else was he supposed to say? Hey, sorry your dog died, do you want to kiss now? Absolutely not. 

Steve is many things, and oftentimes he is an idiot, but he isn’t that much of an idiot.

So, instead of asking you to be his girlfriend, Steve had instead spent the next three hours at your house as he consoled you and watched your favorite movie to cheer you up. While it hadn’t been his ideal outcome, Steve had still been happy to simply spend time with you. Besides, you had needed him at that moment, so of course Steve was right there by your side. 

Life moved on, a few weeks passed, and eventually Steve decided to try again. 

You had no more animals to possibly lose, Christmas was approaching, and Steve was determined that this time he’d be able to ask you out. 

After buying you some chocolate and planning a fort building night on Christmas Eve, Steve had been sure that the night would go perfectly. There was a beautiful rose pendant bracelet sitting atop of his dresser in his room, wrapped and ready for you to open. 

Steve’s plan was foolproof. 

Build a fort, watch a cheesy Christmas movie, bake some cookies and drink hot chocolate, and then boom: Steve would ask you to be his girlfriend. 

However, Steve really should’ve known better. 

His parents had left that day and he had spent the entire time cleaning the house and preparing all the snacks before your arrival. At six on the dot, his doorbell rang and Steve eagerly ran over to answer the door. 

There, standing on his front doorstep, had been you with a smug looking Dustin Henderson.

“What’s the kid doing here?” Steve had asked, all his hope now coming crashing down upon him. 

You winced. “I know we made plans, I’m so sorry, but his mom asked me to babysit him and she offered me the rest of the money I need for your Christmas gift and–”

“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank. 

“Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”

“Stevie, I promise I’ll make it up to you later.” You groaned at him, and Steve knew you hated disappointing him. “Can we please just come inside? It’s cold and I was really excited for the fort.”

There are many times when Steve wonders just how he manages to get himself into obscure situations. That night, when he had Dustin Henderson wedged between you and him underneath a super romantic and cute fort that he had spent hours building, had been one of those times where Steve questioned his entire life. 

At that point, Steve was starting to wonder if he’d ever manage to ask you out in the first place. 

A few more weeks passed after that and you were still his best friend and nothing had changed between you two, but now Steve found himself constantly biting his tongue around you. He was so fucking in love with you, he had been for years, but after two failed attempts of confessing his feelings: it was becoming impossible to hold them in. 

Then, late January, your birthday came along. 

This time, Steve was sure that he had it all figured out.

You had wanted to grab some dinner at the local diner you loved, and Steve thought that a small, toned down proposal to date would be perfect. He’d give you your birthday gift (a matching set of earrings for the rose bracelet you now wore every day), he’d order you the strawberry shortcake you adored, and when you weren’t looking, Steve would ask the waitress to write “happy birthday, my love” on the cake. 

Steve was a goddamn romantic genius, honestly. 

Except that isn’t what happened. 

What actually ended up happening was the waitress somehow hearing “my love” as “Milo” and Steve had wanted to bash his fucking skull in. 

“Who’s ‘Milo’?” You had asked once the cake came out, confusion evident on your face. 

Steve, now used to nothing ever working out in his favor, had simply sighed and said, “Who knows, man. Just eat your cake.”

You had giggled, and the sound was enough to cheer Steve up a bit. Sure, it was looking more and more like the world didn’t want you with him, but at least he got to hear your laugh and admire the way your eyes shined whenever you looked at him. 

Now, a few weeks later, it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is terrified that he will somehow set your house on fire with his horrible luck. 

He has spent the last two months trying to ask you out. Now, on the day of love itself, Steve is almost too terrified to even approach you. At the rate he’s going, if he tries to ask you out again, he’ll end up telling you he hates you or something. 

He’s miserable. 

Which is how he finds himself once again outside your door, except there’s no flowers in his hands, and he knocks. 

You guys haven’t made any plans tonight, but it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is so in love with you that it hurts. 

The second his knuckles leave the door, you swing the door wide open and jump into his arms. “Stevie!”

Surprised by such an affectionate reaction, Steve almost falls into the bushes in front of your house. “Woah, hey!”

He steadies the two of you and you simply squeeze him tighter and giggle. You’re in an exceptionally good mood, almost too good of a mood, and Steve’s hands are sweating. He hadn’t exactly come here with a game plan in mind. 

“Happy to see me, I take it?” He mumbles into your ear. 

“Duh,” you press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s Valentine’s Day, why wouldn’t I be excited to see my boyfriend?”

This time, Steve actually does fall into the bush behind him. 

“Oh my god,” you run over and quickly try to help the boy up, but Steve is staring up at the night sky, overcome with pure shock and fear. “Stevie? Steve!”

Steve lays there, motionless as you continue to tug at his jacket. “How long have I been your boyfriend, Y/N?”

At his question, you stop tugging and look at him, confused. “I don’t know, honestly. How long has it been since the fourth of July?”

“The fourth?” Steve sputters. “Y/N, it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m just now finding out you’re my girlfriend?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

“No!” Steve finally scrambles out of the bushes and grabs your face with his hands. He feels insane, his hands are shaking a bit as he holds onto you. “When did this happen?”

You scrunch your eyebrows together. “On the fourth. We saw the fireworks, cuddled on the picnic blanket you stole from your mom, you grabbed my hand, and then told me you never wanted this to end. I just… I assumed you meant our relationship?”

Steve blinks. “You… You are the love of my life, Y/N L/N.”

“Well, I’d hope so–” Suddenly Steve’s lips are against yours and he’s kissing you with everything he has within him. All those months of pining after you, all the times he’s failed in asking you to be his, and this entire time you had somehow been his all along. 

God, he is so stupidly in love with you. 

He nips at your bottom lip and you make a sound that’s so soft and sweet in the back of your throat that has Steve’s head spinning. He nips again, revels in the breathy sigh you release against his lips, and Steve’s hand tugs harshly against your waist. 

The kiss is perfect and everything he’s ever dreamed of. 

Then, a thought occurs to Steve. 

“Wait a minute,” he breaks the kiss and your love drunk expression almost makes him groan. He tells himself to focus, even though it’s incredibly difficult to do so. “If we’ve been supposedly dating since July, didn’t you wonder why I hadn’t kissed you yet?”

“Oh, I just thought you were shy.” You shrug, as if it’s no big deal. Then, with a teasing smile, you add, “And I guess I love you too.”

Steve decides, then and there, that you will be the death of him.

And he couldn’t be any happier as he pulls you in again for another bruising kiss. 

Afterall, Steve has about seven months to make up for lost time. 

-

⌑ writing masterlist

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x fem #stranger things #m's writing #fluff #valentines day #enjoyyyyyy <3 #mans just wants a gf #bless him

[heich0e]

it takes touya three days to finally hold the baby.

your baby. his baby.

he waits until you're asleep to consider it--one of the rare bouts of slumber you've been able to get since you returned home from the hospital three days prior. he hadn't been able to be there with you, for reasons that are obvious, and he'd spent the entire time you were gone pacing the floors of your apartment as he awaited your return.

he's so small.

that's all touya can think as he stares down at the little swaddle of blankets and a button nose. impossibly tiny. fragile in every way.

the baby has been sleeping soundly for a while, but he's beginning to stir, little coos and unhappy gurgles that touya's come to learn always shortly precede a shrill cry. he doesn't want you to wake up, but knows that his only other option is to intervene.

so he does.

he reaches into the bassinet slowly, hesitantly.

but he pulls back, just shy of contact.

what if his hands are too hot? what if the baby feels his staples and doesn't like it? what if just by touch alone his son knows the things he's done?

the baby lets out a high pitched whine--the one he's come to know in the past 72 hours is the harbinger of a fit--and it leaves him with no choice but to act.

his two hands move with purpose--one behind the head, and the other slipped beneath his back--lifting him gently from his bed.

he carries him out of your bedroom and into the living room a few paces away, held before him and just slightly away from his frame. every step he takes is slow, measured, and cautious.

he sits on the edge of the sofa, staring down at the little bundle in his arms.

he sighs.

"'ya can't scream right now kid, you've already put her through enough."

the baby's eyes open, but only barely. they don't really do that much until they're older, or so you'd told him when he asked. they can't even really see anything right now, apparently.

touya can't help but take comfort from that fact.

he stares down at the baby in his hands, a foreign choking feeling in his chest that threatens to swallow him whole. the same one he feels sometimes when he looks at you.

he rocks the baby gently, and that seems to soothe him--his little sounds trailing off and his eyes fluttering shut again.

"tou?"

touya's head snaps up towards the door.

you stand there, rubbing at your bleary eyes, watching him. he feels a wave of relief to see you there, even if he'd been hoping you would stay asleep.

"is everything okay?" you ask.

touya hums, clearing his throat a little. "he was making noises, didn't want him to wake you up so i carted him out here."

you shuffle over to him, your hand resting on his shoulder as you peer down at your son.

"he seems happy now," you say softly, your fingers brushing through the hairs at the nape of touya's neck, though your eyes are still on the baby. "i think he likes being held by you."

he swallows thickly, and it's quiet for a moment.

"he looks like my little brother."

your fingers pause in their gentle ministrations.

shouto was the last baby touya ever held, and that was years ago. decades even. but staring down at the little person in his hands, he remembers what it was like to hold his youngest sibling for the first time as vividly as if it were yesterday. how happy he was to do it.

"did you ever think that maybe that's because your little brother looks like you?"

touya freezes.

he doesn't see the resemblance between himself and his family anymore. he hasn't for years. not as his scars grew, his hair was dyed, and his heart hardened. the last reminder that he couldn't quite seem to shake, the final tie he could never sever, was his eyes.

there's a pricking behind them as he thinks of it, as he considers your words. maybe, were he able, he might even be crying. but instead he just stares at the little bundle in his hands. at the nose he thinks might be like his. the shut eyes that he suspects may have come from him too.

and he wonders if maybe you're right.

and if maybe he's grateful for it.

#touya x you #touya x reader #dabi x you #dabi x reader #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #dabi #bnha drabble #bhna writing #writing

[cherriesformatt]

sharing the news || matt sturniolo part 2

matt x fem!reader

summary: after a while you decided its time to share the news of your new chapter in life with Chris and Nick

warnings: pregnancy

word count: 1,5k

a/n: thank you for over 100 notes under part 1! I decided to continued the story. I hope you will like it!

It's been a month since me and Matt found out that I'm pregnant. It’s been hell of a ride so far. We somehow managed to talked Chris and Nick out of my little episode and told them I just got my period and was really upset, tired and need Matt to go to the store for me. I spent entire next two days in Matt’s room trying to figure out our situation. I was also constantly sick and anxious. After than I just tried to be as normal as I could so no one would be suspicious.

At first it was like I didn’t know what I should do. But then I found myself thinking about the baby with my hand on my stomach and I knew I wanted to keep it. I also did hear Matt talking to my belly in the middle of night which made me cry so hard in the bathroom because of how cute that was.

Today was my first ultrasound appointment to confirm the situation and check if everything is alright.

“You know… I was thinking that if everything is good I would like to tell Chris and Nick and then we can decide how and when we want to tell the rest of the family” Matt looked at me when we stopped on the red light.

Keeping this a secret form his brothers was really hard for him because they always talked about everything with each other. Which was scary for me at first. Their whole relationship and building my own with Matt but also becoming part of theirs. Now I just admire the bond between them.

“Yes I was thinking the same” I smiled at him and put my hand on his thigh. I was nervous about only one thing.

“What I was thinking… Is that I will literally jump if your fucking triplets genes worked too hard and there is more than one of those” I said what was on my mind recently.

“Oh my goodness… I didn’t think about this” He put his hand over his mouth.

He was clearly scared now.

“We giving one to Chris in that case” I said seriously.

“Please , we are never leaving our kids with Chris, ever” he said.

I only laughed at that and patted his leg.

“It’s gonna be all good Matt, let’s manifest it’s only one for now” I said.

“Baby… I know this month wasn’t ideal for you and we both tried to cope with the fact that we’re going to have a baby but also only us knowing for now is really special” He looked at me for a second and his eyes went back to the road.

That was also exactly how I felt and I leaned forward to him and kissed his cheek.

“I love you Matty… I know this is all hard but you’re right” I said.

“I love you too sweet girl… okay we’re here, let’s do this” He parked the car and took a deep breath.

Our appointment went smoothly. They did my blood test which confirmed that I’m pregnant. They also did bunch of other tests to see if I’m all good and healthy. Thankfully I was. The last step was the ultrasound.

“Alright parents…” The doctor said and I gasped at the cold of the liquid that she put all over my lower belly.

She called us “parents”, that took me by surprise and I felt so weird.

“Ready?” She looked at me and smiled and I only nodded and closed my hand on one of Matt’s hands.

She started the thing and looked at the monitor. We couldn’t see it just yet.

“Okay… I found it… everything looks great. The baby is healthy. Looks like you’re about 6/7 weeks pregnant” She said.

“Only one?” Matt asked and wiggled on the chair.

“Oh my Lord, Matt… He is a triplet and we were kind of scared that you know… there’s gonna be more than one” I laughed and looked back at the doctor.

“Yes there’s only one” She laughed as well and turned the screen so we could see it too.

I felt like my heart skipped a beat when I saw a little thing moving on the screen. Like a dot. But I knew it’s our baby.

“Oh my…” I said and she pushed some kid of button and sound of a really fast heartbeat started to play from the machine.

“Is that?..” Matt gasped as well.

“That’s your baby’s heart beating… it’s really fast that’s normal and that’s actually really good. The baby is really healthy, you guys… congratulations” She said with a big smile.

But both of us were speech less. I caught Matt swiping tears from his cheek with a corner of my eye. That moment was something you can’t explain. You need to experience that yourself to know how much love I felt in this moment.

When we were back in the car I put all of my stuff in the back seat, closed the doors and turned around to go to my doors but I was met by arms of my boyfriend.

“Oh Matt…” I said hugging him back.

He hid his head in the crock of my neck and I run my fingers through his hair. I felt tears on my skin and I couldn’t help as my eyes started to water as well.

“We’re going to be okay. We can do this Matt. Together” I said but my voice broke I couldn’t exactly feel what’s happening.

“I know… y/n I’m just so happy that’s it’s overwhelming” He said pulling back to rest his temple against mine.

“I feel exactly the same way” I whispered looking him in the eyes.

He kissed me and pulled me even closer to his body. I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.

On our way back we stopped by target and some other places to get Nick’s and Chris’s favorite snacks, drinks and some funny, cheesy stuff that had “cool uncle” on it.

At home I put all of it in two boxes and also added a picture from the ultrasound to each.

This situation was so unreal for me and Matt. They were actually filming in the kitchen now. I really wanted to have their reaction on camera, so we told them that Matt wanted to do some kind of unboxing with their eyes blindfolded and they would have to guess what’s in the boxes.

When he texted me they are ready I took the boxes and come to the kitchen and put them in front of them and stood behind the camera.

“Okay you may open them” Matt said.

They started to pull stuff out.

“That’s bullshit it’s clearly Pepsi and popcorn” Chris said.

“Yes and that’s my own lip balm” Nick said annoyed.

“Okay how about this?” Matt took an ultrasound pictures and put into their hands.

“Piece of paper?” Chris said.

“No” Matt said and looked at me.

“Picture?” Nick said and showed it to the camera.

“Yes, it’s a picture” He nodded and smiled to the camera.

“Picture of us?” Chris asked and opened his can of Pepsi.

“No… but picture of someone that is in a room with us” Matt said.

“Oh my gosh you fucking freaking me out right now, what the fuck, are you a medium or what” Nick said an put the picture on the table.

“Okay… maybe just take your blindfolds off and Chris… you might want to wait with that fist sip” I said looking at them.

“I didn’t know you were here…” Nick said and started to undo the bandanna on his head.

I bit on my nails as I watched them taking those off. Then they looked at the boxes and I felt like I stopped breathing for a second.

“What the actual fuck? Is this some kind of prank?” Chris asked as his eyes widened.

“Oh my gosh are you kidding me?” Nick looked at me and stood up.

“Chris you owe me 1000 dollars… I knew it!” He hugged me tightly and I put my arms around him.

“Did you two bet on me being pregnant? What the hell?” I laughed.

My stress went away because how could I be stressed around them.

“I actually forgot that we did” Chris said and gave Matt a big hug.

“You guys… I don’t know what to say” Nick said pulling away from me.

“Well…. To be honest we don’t know either” I said and Matt only laughed.

“Yes… this feels really like a dream more than real life” Matt said looking at his brothers.

“Wait… are we first to know?” Chris asked.

“Of course you are… who else?” Matt looked at him and Nick went closer to them and they three shared a hug and than looked at me.

“Come here mama” Chris wiggled his eyebrows at me.

“Never, ever call me that again” I said seriously while coming into the hug.

They laugh and we stand like that for a minute or two.

“Okay I love you all but all three of you smell like three different colognes and I might throw up” I said stepping back.

This baby will be the luckiest baby in the whole world having them as a family.

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets

[norrizzandpia]

Hii love your work first of all! I kinda wanted to request something.

So i wanted to request them massaging your boobs. Like you know that feeling and the end of the day where you take your bra off and your boobs hurt? And the notice and massage your boobs for you. You know what I mean :)).

Not really in a sexual way but more like a comforting way ya know.

Doesn't matter if its for Lando or Oscar...

Byeeee

Alright after CAREFUL CONSIDERATION I’ve decided to write this for Oscar i hope you’ll like it!!!! <3

I Know What You Need (OP81)

Summary: She’s had a stressful day, he knows just what she needs.

Warnings: massaging boobs? Two sexual references but its very cute and fluffy

Note: bro why tf have i never found a man like this im so bitter

During summer break, Oscar got a little taste of what it was like for Y/n while he was away working. The constant longing for her presence as she spent the majority of the day at her office nagged at him, causing his mind to go crazy as he awaited her arrival in their shared apartment. He would mope around for the first few hours, texting her and asking when she would be home, before deciding to “man up” by cleaning the house, then he’d watch a movie or two before taking a nap. His last few hours were wasted making paper airplanes and entertaining the stray cat on the fire escape. He was desperate for anything to hold his attention long enough so that the feelings of desperation for his girlfriend would, at least, slightly subside.

Nonetheless, the entire day, without fail, was spent with only her on his mind. Because of this, when she got home, he was on her in an instant. However, this time, as she walked the door with sunken shoulders and her heels in hand, he thought that being as overbearing as he usually was might overwhelm her more. So, with this in mind, he slowly walked over to her, smiling down at her when she turned around, feeling his hand on her waist, and shoved herself into his warm chest.

“Hi, my love. How was your day?” He whispered to her, rubbing a hand up and down her back soothingly.

Her groan was muffled, but her exasperation was clear, “Rough.”

He nodded and kissed her temple, “Sorry to hear, baby. What can I do?”

She pulled herself from his embrace, arms winding around her back and picking at the clothing hugging too tight for comfort, “I don’t know yet, just let me get out of these clothes.”

She began to walk away from him, but when he caught sight of what she was trying to reach on her back, he stopped her.

“I can take your bra off for you?” He tried, watching her body stop any kind of movement before slowly turning around.

“Osc, I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood to have sex right now.” She looked down at her feet.

He shook his head, taking big strides over to her before taking her face in his hands, “No, no, no, my love. It’s just to help you. You looked like you were struggling with it.”

Her eyes softened and her arm fell limply at her side, “Okay.”

Her grateful smile mirrored his as he winded his arms down her back and grabbed ahold of the hem of her shirt. Pulling it slowly over her head, he tried to make the moment as gentle as possible, knowing how stressed she must be when everyone at her job consistently looks to her when they run into the most minor convenience. When her torso was bare to him, nothing but her bra being left, he trailed his hands back up her body and latched onto the clip of the material. Being experienced with the bra she was wearing, he had it off quick, her boobs falling as he pulled it off of her. Her small groans had Oscar feeling triumphant, but, when her small hands came up to palm at the two, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Why are you doing that?” It didn’t sound judgmental, just curious.

Her eyes opened, having previously fallen closed when her hands came in contact with her boobs, “It feels nice. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s just… soothing.”

He stared at for a moment before his mind made itself up, “Can I try?”

Her eyes lit up, suddenly very interested in the line of question, “Yeah!”

He nodded, hands timidly coming up to rest on her boobs, a gesture he had done multiple times before, but in much more inappropriate situations. His fingers squeezed softly before they began to rub the skin, Y/n’s eyes falling closed once more at the feeling. He started doing a certain movement, incredibly indescribable, that had Y/n gasping.

“Oscar! You’re good at this!” Her chuckling made his heart warm.

His face lit up, happy to make his girlfriend feel good in another way, “Yeah?”

Her hands came to cover his that still rested on his boobs, moving them slightly to signal his continuation of the previous movements. When he gave in to the request, she went back to groaning, letting out small sounds that communicated her relief.

“So good, Osc.”

“I never thought I’d be massaging your boobs, have you groaning, telling me how good it feels, and not have both of us naked, doing the dirty.”

Her jaw dropped and she smacked his shoulder, but she laughed at his comment, no real harm done. The only harm, if you really wanted to call it harm, was that Y/n made a promise to herself to always ask Oscar for boob massages at the end of the day rather than have her own self do it.

That promise was fulfilled many, many times in the coming future.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #mclaren #oscar piasstri #oscar pia #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader

[drudyslut]

— summary: it’s been a month since you and rafe broke up, and when the two of you end up at the same party, rafe wants closure. but things go differently.

— pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

— warnings: strong language, toxic relationship, some angst, pet names, praising, dom!rafe, unprotected sex, fingering, slightly sweet!rafe in the end.

— note: my first fic i posted on my old blog, only fair it’s the first reposted on my new blog <3 it’s also slightly reworked but not by much!

❥ closure— r.c

It’s been a month since you’d seen him. A month of dodging calls and texts, begging you to just come talk.

The truth was, you missed him, but you knew it was for the best if you steered clear of him.

He was toxic in every way imaginable; controlling, mentally abusive, he had a drug problem he wasn’t willing to shake, not even for you. He had so many problems within himself and he wasn’t willing to try and fix them. It had been a long but rewarding month, and you finally felt happy again.

But you knew you’d see him eventually, given y’all live on a small island in North Carolina, and now here you were, standing in the middle of his best friends living room at a party, hoping you can make it through the night without seeing him.

“Y/N? You okay?” you hear your best friend ask from beside you, completely pulling you from your thoughts.

You look over at her and give a small smile, trying your hardest not to give away that your mind is on Rafe.

“Yeah i’m fine, just a little on edge. This is the first party i’ve came to since…” The sentence dies on your tongue when you see him, standing at the opposite side of the house, glass full of whiskey in hand, his eyes locked on you.

“Fuck” you say under your breath and looking to your best friend again.

“What? Y/N/N what’s wro-“ she starts, but is cut off by an all too familiar voice. Rafe.

“Hey Y/N… I was wondering if we could talk?” Rafe asks, his eyes trained on the ground beneath him.

You stand frozen in your spot, unable to form a coherent thought. You hadn’t seen him in an entire month, you hadn’t heard his voice in an entire month, you hadn’t felt the feeling you were feeling right now in an entire month.

You look up at him, trying to get a read on his face, hoping you could figure out his true intentions through his eyes. But when he locks his blue eyes with yours, they’re filled with nothing but sadness. You’d never seen Rafe look so sad before, not even when his dad spent the entire day tearing him apart, he never looked as sad as he did right now.

You look toward your friend who is just watching the two of you like it’s her favorite show, causing you to roll your eyes at her. She gives you an apologetic smile before she looks back at Rafe, “Sorry bud, I don’t think she’s much up for talking to you”

He gives her a shit eating glare, his head slowly turning back to you. You notice his features soften when he meets your eyes again, “Look Y/N it’s just a talk. We need better closure, I need better closure… Please?”

You let out a deep sigh and let your fall to look at the ground before looking back into his eyes. You really missed him. Missed those deep blue eyes, his plump pink lips, you missed everything about him.

“Rafe, I don’t think I can give you what you’re looking for. I just- We were toxic together, you know that. What more is there to say?”

Rafe frowns. “Look I just need you to know I will fucking change. I need you. I’ve been a mess this last month, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, all i’ve done is try and drink you away. I even quit doing coke for you, I thought maybe if I try and change who I am, then fuck, I don’t know.. Maybe you’d love me again. I fucking need you though”

You stand there in shock at his revelation. You never thought you’d hear Rafe Cameron say he needs someone. He’s the Kook Prince, he has everything he wants, he could have any girl he wants, so why does he need you? Fuck why does he want you?

Rafe pulls you from your thoughts, his hands placed softly on your shoulders. “Y/N?”

You shake his hands from your shoulders. “Let’s go talk. But just talk, Rafe”

He gives a small smile, taking your hand in his and leading you up the stairs and into a small guest bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

You move to sit on the end of the bed, eyes finding Rafe who was still standing by the door, his eyes raking your figure up and down. You felt your face grow hot from his intense stare, he’d always had this sort of affect on you, even though you’d been together for three years, he always knew how to get you flustered.

“Rafe, you said you wanted to talk, so let’s talk” you say with a shaky voice.

He begins moving closer to you, making your entire body grow hot, “I do wanna talk, but y’know it’s hard to just talk when you look so goddamn sexy baby”

“D-don’t call me that. We’re not together anymore”

“And that’s the problem baby girl, we should be together. We were meant to be together, why can’t you see that?”

“Rafe” you begin, but are cut off by his lips hovering over yours, he was so close you could smell his expensive cologne that you love so much.

“What is it baby? I know you miss me like I miss you. Fuck. I miss your smell, your laugh, your smile, I miss the way your hands feel in mine. I really miss the way your pretty lips look wrapped around my cock, I miss everything about you”

You suck in shaky breath, his words causing an ache to grow between your legs. You squeeze your legs together and push him back, finally able to catch a good breath. You look up into his eyes, normally beautiful and blue, but right now they’re darkened over and full of lust for you.

“Rafe I can’t do this with you. You always try and use sex to pull me back in, and it usually works, but fuck, I can’t do this” You stand from the bed, pushing past him and making your way toward the door, unlocking the door. Before you can pull the door open you’re pushed into the door, hearing it locked again before you’re spun around to face Rafe.

“Fucking hell Y/N stop! You wanna talk? Let’s talk”

“Rafe let me go” You say sternly, trying your hardest to push him off of you.

He loosens his grip on your arms, and steps back a little. You look into his eyes, noticing the tears that were threatening to fall.

You give him a sad smile and exhale deeply, “Look, Rafe. You know I love you, fuck you’re the one person i’ve loved more than anything in all mu years in this earth, and we were good together, but we weren’t at the same time.. The bad outweighs the good..”

You see a single tear fall from his eye, the sight breaks your already broken heart more, but you know you can’t give in. If you do it’ll be the same cycle repeated all over again. Years of dealing with the fights, the tears, him shutting you out when his dad has been a royal ass. You couldn’t handle it anymore.

���Y/N I promise i’ll change. I know you say the bad outweighs the good, and I understand that, but if you just let me have this one last chance, I swear I will spend every single goddamn day proving to you that I fucking love you. You’re the only happiness i’ve had in my miserable existence, I can’t fucking lose you”

You feel your heart shatter in that moment, you knew he loved you, that much you never doubted, but you weren’t sure you could allow yourself to go through all the heart ache again.

You slowly move toward him, wanting to take all his pain away, let him know you were here. You bring him into your arms, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he let choked sobs escape him. You rub at his back softly, whispering sweetly to him as you tried to calm him down.

You know you miss him, why is it so hard to let someone go? Why is it so hard to stop loving someone when they’ve given you every reason to hate them?

You pull away from him, looking into his sparkling blue eyes, seeing him this way hurt, and you knew you were going to forgive him. Take him back. You couldn’t help it. You loved him. You lift up on your toes and place a soft kiss on his lips before quickly pulling away. He looks into your eyes, searching for any sign that he could kiss you again.

He slowly bends down and captures your lips with his again, softly and slowly at first to make sure you were okay with it, but he quickly deepens the kiss when he realizes you weren’t going to shove him away. You melt into the kiss, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth and explore as your arms fly around his neck.

He moves his hands down the curves of your body, reaching your thighs and giving a light tap, signaling for you to jump and wrap your legs around his torso.

He holds onto the bottom of your thighs, walking the two of you over to the bed. He never breaks the kiss until he softly drops you onto the bed.

You watch in awe as he tears his shirt off, tossing it to the side and crawling on top of you. He keeps his gaze on you, a small smirk on his lips before he leans down and kisses you deeply again.

Yo whimper against his lips, “R-Rafe, please. I need you. I’ve missed you”

He breaks the kiss and looks down at you with that cocky smirk you know all too well, “Tell me what you want sweetheart, and I’m sure I can help you out”

“Touch me, please” You whine, grabbing his hand and leading it to where you need him the most.

He begins quickly unbuttoning your shorts, sliding them down your legs and tossing them across the room. He palms your cunt through your panties, rubbing his thumb over your soaked core, “Shit princess, so wet. You’ve ruined these” he says lowly, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your legs.

“Shirt off” he demands, moving to unbutton his pants, eyes never leaving you as he watches you pull your shirt over your head.

He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees you’d opted for no bra tonight, “Fuck baby, I missed you like this”

“Prove it”

Before you have time to think, Rafe pushes your back onto the mattress and begins littering your neck with kisses, pulling moans and whines from your lips. “Rafe! Please, do something”

“So needy for me aren’t you baby?” He says as he begins rubbing slow circles on your clit. You squirm underneath his touch, your hips bucking forward as you try and gain more friction. He takes his free hand, pushing your hips down into the mattress.

“Be a good girl, and don’t move. You know i’ll take care of you, alright?”

He slowly rubs your clit with his thumb, inserting his middle finger into your soaked pussy, forcing a moan to fall from you, your gummy walls clenching around his finger. You try and focus on your breathing, the pace of his finger mixed with the pressure he was applying to your clit pushing you toward the edge fast.

“My needy girl, clenching around my finger, you like when my fingers are inside you baby?” He asks, voice low and raspy as he sinks another finger inside you, quickening his pace.

You nod your head, back arching off the mattress, pushing his fingers deeper into you. He chuckles darkly, curling his fingers slightly and hitting at your sweet spot before he pulls them from you completely.

“Rafe what the f-“ you were about to complain, but the words die on your tongue when he sinks both fingers back inside you, thrusting them in and out harshly, the slight curve of his fingers repeatedly hitting at your g-spot.

“Oh shit, keep going baby, i’m gonna cum, Rafe! Fuck!”

Rafe slows his pace, leaning forward and kissing your lips softly. “I know baby, I can feel your pussy clenching around my fingers, but you can’t cut, not yet princess. You’re gonna cum on my cock”

You moan out at the slow pace of his fingers, your eyes squeezed shut as he pulls them from you. You open your eyes and watch as he strips his briefs from his body, letting his hard cock spring free. You prop yourself up on your elbows and stare in awe at the beauty of the man in front of you. After three years you still find yourself drooling over him like this, but who wouldn’t ?

“I almost forgot how big you are baby” you stay while moving to bring him into your mouth, but he stops you before you can even begin.

“Tonight’s all about you sweetheart, we’ll have plenty of time to let you put that pretty mouth to use, but for now, i’m going to fuck you. Lay back”

He begins stroking himself slowly, bringing his free hand and wrapping it around your throat, “I’ve always loved how you look with my hand wrapped around your throat, such a pretty girl”

You squirm beneath him, wanting nothing but the feeling of his cock inside you. You begin to whine, begging for him to fuck you when he finally sinks himself inside you, moans and groans falling from both of you as he fills you perfectly.

“Fuck baby, so fucking wet, so tight, and just for me”

He begins thrusting himself into you slowly, your inner walls squeezing at him tightly.

“Tell me you only get this fucking wet for me, that this pussy belongs to me!” He demands, his hips pounding into you harder and faster.

You open your mouth to speak but nothing but moans and whines come out, you can’t think straight, much less form a coherent sentence.

Rafe slows his thrusts to an agonizingly slow pace, stilling inside you completely. He tightens the grip he has on your throat, forcing your eyes open and onto him, “Answer me baby, or i’ll stop”

“Fuck, Rafe! Only you, It’s all for you!”

He smirks, his hips pounding into yours again. “That’s my good girl”

You feel yourself clenching around him, your walls sucking him further into you. You bring your hands to his face and pull his lips down to meet yours, kissing him sloppily and hungrily.

“Fuck Rafe! I’m about to cum!” You whine, your hands flying to his shoulders, fingernails digging into the flesh.

He takes one hand and grips at your hip tightly, surely leaving a bruise. He pulls your body further into him, his thrusts growing sloppier and harder as he buries his face into your neck, sucking a bruise into the skin.

“Come for me baby, come all over me”

You feel the pressure build up in your stomach, your pussy clamping down on him harder. You begin to move your hops with his, trying to push him closer to his release.

The room is filled with nothing but the sounds of both your moans, and skin slapping against skin. You feel the band snap, your legs shaking uncontrollably beneath him and your release rushes through you.

“Fuck baby, i’m so close, fuck!” Rafe groans out, his dick twitching inside you as the hot ropes of his cum spill inside you.

He lets his body fall onto yours, fighting to catch his breath, “I love you”

You place a soft kiss to his cheek, smiling, “I love you too”

He pulls himself from inside you, rolling onto his side and off the bed. You watch as he disappears into the bathroom, emerging seconds later with a warm washcloth in hand. He begins cleaning the inside of your thighs.

Once he’s done cleaning you up, he grabs his briefs from the floor, slipping them back on and moving to grab your t-shirt.

The two of you quickly get dressed, the room completely silent until Rafe clears his throat and grabs your hands, pulling you toward him.

“So I just want you to know, this wasn’t me using sex to pull you back into my fucked up life.. I understand if you still don’t want to be with me..”

You sigh, bringing your hands to his face and kissing his lips, “Rafe I know we’ve been through this before, and we go through the same cycle time and time again, but I love you. So i’m willing to try this again”

A big smile takes over his face, and he pulls you into a long, sweet kiss. When he breaks the kiss he looks deeply into your eyes, “I promise i’ll show you how much you mean to me, how much I love you. I promise you’ll see the change in me, i’ll be the man you deserve”

You giggle. “I trust you, Rafe. And most importantly I love you. Now let’s get back down there before everyone thinks we killed each other”

RAFE TAGLIST: @whore-4-drewstarkey @ivy-34 @aemonddtargaryen @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @starkeypankowsbae @lizcameron @m-1234 @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @alexisbaumann2004 @yourfavborderhopper @moremaybank @mel119g @rafetopia @rafecameronnslut @rafemotherfuckincameron @jade-is-jaded @jjmaybankisbae @lexasaurs634 @softlilacarrest @fayerite @exhaustedbutelated @lyndys @urmyslxt @presleyanswrites @sierraluvz @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe obx #obx #obx fic #obx smut #obx x reader

[ks-dreams-fantasies]

TEACH ME PT.3 | TRAVIS KELCE

a/n : The third part of Teach Me is finally here. Sorry for the wait, I was done but decided to rewrite it because I wasn't satisfied with the result. Hope you like it 🙏🏼 Enjoy!

Warnings: None, some fluff aand flirt, first date with Travis

Words: 2,560

Pairing: Travis Kelce x Reader

Part 2

TEACH ME PART 3 | TRAVIS KELCE

The next morning, you woke up feeling content and excited. You had spent the rest of the night with Camille, in your pyjamas, doing skincare, watching movies and daydreaming about Ryan Gosling in the Notebook. 

The smell of freshly brewed coffee welcomed you the moment you stepped into the kitchen. You best friend was pouring herself a cup when she saw you come in. 

‘’Coffee?’’ she asked you, raising the coffee pot in the air.

‘’Is that even a question?’’  you said, looking at her like she grew three heads. She giggled as you sat down at the kitchen island. She poured you a mug as you looked through your phone, noticing an unread text message from an unknown number. You smiled and blushed as you opened it. 

I had a lot of fun yesterday ☺️

A picture was attached to the message. Wyatt was in her uncle’s arms, as you laughed loudly at something she said, Travis looking at you with a big grin. 

‘’What are you smiling about?’’ Camille interrupted you, leaning over your shoulder and looking at your screen as she dropped a mug in front of you. ‘’Ouh … would you look at that’’ she said taking your cellphone from your hands as she examined every detail shown in the picture.

After a few seconds, you snatched it back, giggling at the way she looked at you with big eyes. ‘’What?’’, ‘’ Girl, have you seen the way he looks at you? He’s obsessed.’’ Your faced became even more red than it already was. 

‘’Are you going to stand here and look at your phone all day or are you going to answer back?’’ she continued nudging you, smirking as you rolled your eyes at her. Your phone buzzed again.

It’s Travis by the way.

You giggled before replying.

Thank you for clarifying, I couldn’t really tell by the picture 😜

Your phone started ringing indicating a call.

Incoming Call – Travis Kelce

You panicked for a second, showing your screen to Camille before she hurried you to pick up and talk to him. ‘’Hi’’ ‘’Hey… that wasn’t very clever of me, was it?’’ he asked scratching his head, slightly embarrassed. You giggled at his question before he talked again. ‘’So, how did you sleep?’’ 

‘’Pretty good actually, thanks for asking, what about you?’’ ‘’I slept okay… you know, I really had fun yesterday and I meant what I said Y/N, I would really like to take you out soon.’’ You smiled and walked towards the living room to get a little bit more privacy. 

‘’Perhaps tomorrow night, if you’re free.’’ You blushed. ‘’Tomorrow works for me.’’ 

‘’Great’’ he exclaimed loudly, fist pumping in the air. You couldn’t see him but just by the tone of his voice you just knew he was excited. “Uhm, I’ll pick you up at 7’’ you discussed a little more before you gave him your address and said your goodbyes. 

As you came back into the kitchen, Camille put her phone down quickly, focusing entirely on you with eager eyes. ‘’And, what did he say?’’ she asked as you sat down facing her, sipping on your coffee. ‘’We are going out tomorrow night’’ you said shrugging your shoulders like it was nothing.

‘’Ahhhhhhh’’ she screamed with excitement ‘’My best friend is going out on a date with a hot professional football player’’ she said dancing around you, making you laugh. ‘’I’m trying to stay calm and collected but I’m nervous as hell.’’ You stated.

You, going out with Travis would be the first date you’d be going on since breaking up with Christopher a few months ago. You were excited because you could feel the connection you had with Travis, but you couldn’t help but to freak out. He was famous, girls were throwing themselves at him, tabloids would be making rumors and publicizing everything he did. Going on dates with him and maybe developing a relationship of some sort would mean you’d have to accept his lifestyle and accept to be a part of it.

In contrast, your life remained quite uneventful. After graduating, you pursued a career as a preschool teacher. Although you occasionally socialized with friends, your life was predominantly marked by its tranquility. 

During your younger years, spontaneity defined your character, but being in a relationship with Christopher necessitated a shift. Christopher's finance job revolved around meticulous planning, and he was a dedicated organizer. It became unusual for the two of you to engage in spontaneous outings or unplanned trips; everything adhered to a pre-established agenda. 

You adapted to this routine, although it never truly brought you much satisfaction. Becoming his girlfriend changed you. You had become quieter, and organisation and planning were now a part of your daily life.  

‘’Should we go shopping to find you a new outfit?’’ Camille asked, wiggling her eyebrows making you laugh. ‘’I wouldn’t even know what to shop for, I have no idea what he has planned or where we are going.’’ You responded not knowing what to except from your date.

Later that day you ended up going to the mall, browsing to find an appropriate outfit for your evening with Travis. Camille wanted to stop by Victoria Secret on your way out because they had a sale going on.

Your eyes danced around the store, looking around at all the different color garment. You picked up a cute 2-piece red set and showed it to your friend.

‘’What do you think of this one?’’ You asked placing it in front of you. Camille smirked at you ‘’I’m sure Travis will love it’’ you chuckled, shoving her as she giggled back at you. 

‘’As if I was sleeping with him tomorrow.’’ ‘’I mean, have you seen him? I wouldn’t blame you.’’ She exclaimed before moving towards other gondolas as she continued shopping for herself.  You waited for her by the cash as she paid for her items. 

After she was done, she came towards you, and she handed you a small black and pink bag. ‘’What is this?’’ ‘’A gift’’ you looked inside the bag seeing the red two-piece lace set that you had your eyes on earlier. 

‘’Just don’t forget to mention my contribution to your relationship in you guys’ wedding speech.’’ She winked before running slowly towards the exit, laughing as you rolled your eyes blushing.

The next day passed by pretty fast and soon enough you were getting ready for your date with Travis. You looked at the clock and realised he would be there any minute. You applied the last touch of lip gloss on your lips before you heard a knock on the door. You stared at yourself in the mirror and took one last look before walking towards the entry way. You took a deep breath and opened the door. 

There stood Travis, looking handsome as ever, a single red rose in his hand as he looked up at you, smiling.  

‘’Hi’’ 

‘’Hi’’ you gave him a small smile in return. ‘’This is for you’’ he said handing you the flower before you smelled it, blushing at the nice gesture. You thanked him and invited him inside while you fetched a small vase for your rose. You grabbed your coat and your purse before meeting him back and front.

As you stepped inside, the soft hum of conversation surrounded you. The hostess greeted you with a warm smile and led you to your table in a quiet and more private corner. Travis pulled out your chair with a grace that belied his powerful frame. You talked casually before Travis ordered some wine and you both ordered some food. 

As the evening wore on, your conversation shifted to more personal matters. You talked about your families, your childhoods, and the moments that had shaped you into the people you had become.

"So, what's one thing about you that not many people know?" Travis asked, genuine curiosity in his eyes.

You took a moment to think, then smiled. "Well, I have a secret passion for old black-and-white movies. There's something about the nostalgia and the storytelling that just draws me in."

His eyes lit up with intrigue. "Really? That's unexpected, but incredibly charming. Any favorites?"

You leaned forward, eager to share. "Casablanca, definitely. The way they captured the complexities of love and sacrifice... it's just timeless."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I'll have to give it a watch. It sounds like a movie that could teach a guy a thing or two about love." He said looking at you with a small smirk while you blushed lightly. 

As the night deepened, you touched on dreams and aspirations. Travis spoke of his desire to give back to his community, to make a difference beyond the football field. It was inspiring to see this side of him, the man behind the athlete.

"And what about you?" he asked, his gaze steady. "What's something you've always wanted to achieve?"

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. "I've always had this dream of opening a community center for underprivileged kids. A place where they can learn, grow, and discover their potential."

He looked at you, a mixture of admiration and respect in his eyes. "That's amazing. I have no doubt you'd make a huge impact on those kids' lives. I mean you already do, I can see it with Wyatt" he continued as you smiled and blushed. 

After excusing yourself to visit the restroom, you made your way back to your table, the soft glow of the restaurant enveloping your figure. As you approached, a heartwarming sight unfolded before your eyes.

There stood Travis, a towering figure of kindness and humility, crouched down to meet the eye level of a young fan who couldn't have been more than seven or eight. The child's eyes sparkled with pure delight as he clutched what looked like to be a jersey, beaming from ear to ear.

Without missing a beat, Travis leaned in for a picture, their faces alight with shared enthusiasm. The child's guardian, a beaming parent, snapped the photo, capturing a moment that would undoubtedly become a cherished memory.

Your heart swelled with admiration as you watched him interact with the young fan. He treated the boy with a kindness and genuine affection that spoke volumes about his character. It was clear that he understood the impact he could have on young lives, and he embraced that responsibility with grace.

As they finished up, the child's beaming smile remained, and he gave Travis a heartfelt hug, which was reciprocated with equal warmth. They exchanged a few words, and the child left, practically floating on air, clutching the signed football jersey as if it were a priceless treasure.

As Travis turned to head back to your table, his eyes met yours, and his face lit up with a mixture of joy and pride. You couldn't help but be moved by the scene before you. Here was a man whose heart was as big as his presence on the field, someone who understood the impact he could have on those who looked up to him.

He joined you at the table, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Sorry about that. I couldn't resist when I saw that little guy's face light up."

You smiled back, your heart still full from the touching moment. "No need to apologize. It was beautiful to see."

He nodded, a glint of gratitude in his eyes. "It's moments like these that remind me why I do what I do."

And in that instant, you knew you were witnessing something special. Not just the heartwarming encounter with the young fan, but the genuine, kind-hearted man sitting across from you. It was a reminder that behind the glitz and glamour of his profession, Travis was a person who cared deeply about making a positive impact in the world. It was a quality that made you even more grateful to be getting to know him on this special evening.

As you sipped your wine, a mischievous glint danced in Travis's eyes. "You know," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, "I've been told that sharing dessert is a great way to test compatibility."

You leaned in, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Is that so? Well, I wouldn't want to jeopardize our compatibility, now would I?"

He chuckled, his gaze lingering on yours. "Then I guess we'll have to order something sinfully decadent."

"Agreed," You said, your heart doing a little somersault. "After all, we wouldn't want to leave anything to chance."

As the waiter approached, Travis turned his attention to the menu, a twinkle of mischief still in his eyes. "I think we'll take the chocolate lava cake. And two spoons, please."

The waiter nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Excellent choice."

As soon as the dessert arrived, Travis looked at you with feigned innocence. "Shall we put this compatibility theory to the test?"

You picked up your spoon, meeting his gaze with a playful glint of your own. "Let's find out, shall we?"

You each took a bite, savoring the rich, velvety sweetness. Your eyes locked, and a shared laughter bubbled up between you. It was a delicious game of playful flirtation, and you were thoroughly enjoying every moment. 

Your conversation shifted to lighter topics, and you shared stories about your favorite travel destinations and memorable experiences. With every word, it became clearer that you both were kindred spirits, sharing a sense of adventure and a zest for life.

You were both becoming more comfortable, and your conversation took a flirty turn. You playfully teased Travis about some of the extravagant vacations he'd been on, and he responded with charming anecdotes and witty comebacks.

"You certainly know how to live the good life, Travis. I'm impressed," You said, feigning astonishment.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, I might know my way around the football field, but I'm still figuring this whole 'impressing someone on a date' thing out."

You laughed, feeling your cheeks flush. "You're doing just fine, trust me."

The waiter returned to clear your plates and placed the bill on the table. You reached out to grab it, but Travis had faster hands. ‘’I got it, if I remember correctly, I invited you tonight, didn’t I? ‘’ ‘’You did, I really appreciate it, thank you.’’ You said with a smile.

As you guys stepped out of the restaurant, the cool night air felt invigorating against your skin. The cityscape stretched before you, a tapestry of lights and life. Travis slipped his hand into yours, your eyes meeting, his touch warm and reassuring, as you strolled along the bustling streets.

As you walked, your fingers intertwined, a subtle electricity passed between the both of you, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you were forging. It was a sweet and tender moment, a sign of the intimacy that was blossoming between you.

As you passed a lively bar, the sounds of laughter and music spilled out onto the sidewalk. A small group of intoxicated man were chatting outside when a voice caught your attention.

‘’Y/N?’’ Your heart skipped a beat as you locked eyes with him. Standing there, slightly swaying, was Christopher, your ex-fiancé, a figure from a chapter of your life you thought was firmly closed.

To Be Continued

Taglist : @kkrenae @spencerreidisbootiful @nabiiturner @ilove-tswizzle @legit9thlunaticwarrior @evernova @kelcemenow @bellstwd @my-regrets @green-lxght @thecubanator2

Part 4

#travis kelce #travis kelce fic #travis kelce imagine #travis kelce nfl #travis kelce x reader #kelce x reader #nfl fic #nfl imagine #travis x reader #football imagine #nfl x reader

[bowieandqueen11]

Love For You / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: I just found your ao3 account a few days ago and your writing style is excellent! Legitimately some of the most visual and evocative writing I've seen on that website, and I've been devouring your izzy hands fics since I caught up on season two! Can I request another izzy x reader post-amputation and just the reader caring for him while he's pining hard? Maybe the reader has some medical experience so they've been able to help him a little better than the rest of the crew, making sure he's taking time to heal in a difficult moment (physically as well as emotionally, god knows he needs that.) Letting him know he's loved and him realizing he hasn't...heard someone say that to him or treat him this gently in a long time

Thank you so much that's so kind of you to say, it's so lovely people finding me from AO3!! Honestly one of the best feelings, and goodness knows Izzy needs this :)

Okay so I haven't been able to watch the new season so all my knowledge is coming from Tumblr gifs and posts, so I really hope this isn't too ooc my lovely!! Anyway let's get this man some comfort!

I spent all day writing this, so all comments are much appreciated! Thank you! :)

Warning: mentions of blood/injury, mentions of physical abuse, mention of smoking, kissing and some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Something monstrous seemed to be creeping up the shuddering walls.

No, it wasn't the stifling silence that had seemed to envelop those of Blackbeard's crew still left, hiding their heads between their legs and closing their eyes as they felt the quicksand drain out through the fingers. Nor was it the creaking organ snore of Wee John thrumming up the timber; the rest of your usually upbeat crew grew despondent as they wracked their brains together and came up with a way to save you all from imminent demise, having flopped onto their sides and fallen into fitful sleeps just before sunset. Sadly it wasn't even the feel of Lucius' finger stroking yours through the cold grates of your jail, his smile lost and forlorn as he thumped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as well, feeling even more entrapped in himself than you did.

It was, in fact, the hard glare Izzy Hands was shooting into the side of your face. He hadn't spoken a word since Stede had left, choosing instead to let out the odd sniffle from his corner bucket and busy himself by watching you like a man possessed: like something wild, something smothering itself in the shadows to stop its howling heart from devouring the light around itself. From tearing his dagger out of his scabbard and devouring his heart himself with clawed hooks. He looked ghastly, and he looked gargantuan as the life seemed to convulse within him, leeching out and darting its tongue around the creaking wood until it filled up the room and began to fill your heart up with a hope you thought had been lost weeks ago.

He looked beautiful and proud and defeated and assured in spite of it all, and you were finally beginning to understand why Zheng Yi Sao had locked him away in this cage.

And in a way, it terrified you that this cataclysmic, lucent shadow was creeping its merry way straight for you.

The tenebrosity was quickly broken by Izzy's shining eyes gliding across the bridge of your nose to land instead on your top lip. He wasn't entirely sure why exactly he was feeling so timid. It wasn't as if Frenchie was still awake, as he was too busy hugging his free arm around the remaining muscle of Izzy's thigh and burying his head into the muscle with a soft murmur of contentment. Yet the idea of being caught leering at you like a dopey boy was enough to make him judder with embarrassment, and enough to send Frenchie's head keeling sideways so his lips were rammed up against his trousers.

Thankfully, it was exactly Frenchie's floppy head that gave away the fact that he was fast asleep, and allowed you to steal Izzy away for yourself. With a gentle lift, you were quick to replace your friend's cheek with your own hand, giving the side of Izzy's thigh a reassuring squeeze.

'You look like you're bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders', you sighed as you took in Izzy's harrowing form. It wasn't his paleness that worried you, or the redness that cracked and splintered around his irises. It was the way he was watching you, eyes trained steadily on your face for the last hour and a half, as if he were doing his best to memorise everything he could before he ran out of time. As if he would never have the chance to look at you again.

The edges of his lips curled up, and he thumped his head back against the wall. 'Me? I'm feeling fucking fantastic. Never been better. Why do you ask?'

'Well', you began as softly as you could, straining to reach the vials in your hip knapsack to retrieve some salve for the scarring that had begun to pucker around his skin. 'We are about to be executed. I guess I just wanted you to know this is a safe space to let it all out before we are. A confessional of sorts, if a little makeshift.'

He wet his bottom lip as his eyes darted down to you, confused.

You pointedly looked him in the eyes, before unscrewing the vial and dipping your pointer finger in. Making sure he didn't seem too uncomfortable, you leant forwards as innocuously as you could, trying not to startle him anymore than he already had been. With a swipe, you began to rub the herb mixture around the sore looking welts left around his cut leg, making a point to run your fingertips soothingly over the goose-bumps that began to rise at the feel of you against him.

'I wanted you to know- to know that you're always safe around your crew.' You did your best not to let your voice tremble, no matter how much your throat tried to choke you. You turned your head back down to his leg, trying to hide the fact that your mouth was crumpling in on itself.

He winced as your hand brushed against a tender point, and you ran the back of your knuckles over his skin in apology. He felt like he was burning alive: a fire blazing so furiously in the pit of his stomach he was sure it was gushing out, swinging around the room and warning everyone of his impending falter as he fell upon the crags of your fingers below. He had no idea how, in all the seas, you couldn't possibly see how ecstatically devastated he was to be sitting here with you.

He didn't mind dying. He wasn't scared of it. As long as you were there to enhalo his misty light in the end. As long as you were there to love him until his last breath. As long as, no matter what form he took, you were still enclosed around his heart.

'Who says I have anything to confess?', he glanced at you with heavy eyelashes, eyes bleary but sharp as he started straight into your soul. I don't have to confess it, he thought, it's so fucking painfully obvious.

How could he confess something so inexplicable? Something that wrapped around all of his bones, that wormed its way into parts of himself he thought long numb: long lost. How could someone ever articulate the feeling of life itself? It was insurmountable, far too transcendent, too impetuous for mortals to to unsnarl into words.

'Oh Izzy', you said, mouth falling into a frown at the way his hips reflexively bucked up at the feel of a new cream being slathered around his leg to try and numb the pain. He moaned, trying to mask the sound by clenching his fist into his mouth and biting desperately into his knuckles. One more touch, and he was about to fall apart. 'Your eyes are drowning in so many regrets I can barely see the stars in them anymore.'

He huffed out a laugh, looking at you with incredulous, wild eyes. He willed his hand to stop shaking as he let it rest, still clenched, by his quivering chin. 'Not in my eyes. You never could. That's not possible. Not me.'

'I could.' You were quick to reply. 'I always could. You're our guiding light, Israel Hands.'

Oh boy, if he wasn't devastated before he sure was now. His face fell immediately, and for a moment you felt your heart ache with a sore regret at the silvery tears that began to cloud in the crinkles of his eyes. But then he does something that surprised even you.

The way he opened his legs up was almost miniscule: too small for anyone who didn't know this man's quirks and intricacies and giveaways to notice, but a well aimed shot that sent a rush of heat prickling up your cheeks. Before he changed his mind and retreated into himself again, you were quick to scoot your backside over and come to rest far too intimately between the tightening leather of his inner thighs.

'You can't be surprised that we care about you', he started after a moment of comfortable silence, leaning the side of your head to rest gingerly on his intact leg. 'That the whole crew has always cared about you. Look, someone even got you a mop-', you gestured to his side, trying to make him laugh before the sun rises, and thankfully you succeeded.

He shook his head out as if trying to refocus himself as his chuckle died out in his chest. He didn't want to laugh right now. He wanted to focus on the weight on his leg: on the feel of your nose brushing on the length of seam running up to his groin. He blinked back heavy tears that spread along his lashes, sniffling coarsely. He probably should laugh, he thought. He should be fucking howling, spitting, going rabid at the irony that the one thing he had been yearning his whole life was lying right there on his lap, and he only had a few hours left in his pathetic life to savour it.

'How are you doing, by the way? Seriously', you jolt your head up to watch him quizzically. He did his best not to meet your eye, choosing instead to stare at the black grains above Jim's slumped head. 'After, you know, everything that happened with Ed-'

'You don't need to worry about me', he sniffed, but his hand twitched as he lifted it up to rest on his thigh, just above the top of your head. 'It's my job to worry about all of you. Not the other way round.'

'When are you going to get it through your thick skull that we want to worry about you. This isn't some kind of weird mandate or self-preservation tactic on our part Izzy. You may be a fucking idiot, but you're our fucking idiot. Let us take care of you too, like you've been looking out for us.'

He squeezed his eyes shut, his head beginning to shake furiously enough to send his stray silver locks clambering over his eyes. He was glad for their cover, so he wouldn't have to see the way you had lurched forward: the way you were pleading with him with your eyes, as you rose onto your knees and pressed your hands firmly around his waist, just where the joint of his legs met the soft squish of his tummy.

'Don't you shake your head at me. We all know you've been trying to direct Blackbeard's anger your way. We do!' You cocked your head, trying to follow his face as he squirmed in your grasp. Losing your patience, you gripped his jaw with your thumb and pointer finger, directing Izzy's widening eyes back your way. 'We do, Izzy. We know what you've been doing for us. What you've been sacrificing. And I'm sorry - I'm sorry that none of this is fair. I'm sorry that any of this happened at all.'

One. Two. You tapped your finger a third time, your fingernail swirling over the fine nuances of the holster running over his sawed leg.

It had always been your little secret: a shared confidence, between you and Izzy. One tap. Two. Three on each other's arms after battles, three taps there on your shoulder before you went down to your bunk, three fleeting touches burning at the back of his spine to let him know that you were alright: to let him know that he was alright.

You only stopped when you heard a brisk inhale: a sharp whistle that broke through your indulgent repose and made Roach roll over. Thankfully, a moment later, the cook's arm was splayed out across the floor again, and his leg kicked out backwards with a swift jolt up poor Button's behind. Izzy, though. Izzy, despite the surprising tenderness of the moment, was almost smouldering. The muscle by the side of his femur began to writhe underneath just the point of your fingertip, the feeling of just your warmth making him feel too feeble. Too needy to even control the rest of his body; he desperately tried to reach out a hand to shove your shoulder back and push you away, but his mind was too busy swimming with the concentration of trying to remember how to inhale.

The sharp breaths he dragged in painfully were starting to worry you, as were the wracks of his spine as he seemed to writhe backwards and forwards, back arching off the wall before collapsing back down on itself painfully again.

He felt your hand clench around his back, guiding him to sit still again. You were close, far too close - your noses almost touching, as you took a risk and used your free hand to slowly.... god, so fucking slowly he felt like he was going to split in half. He looked like a wounded animal: something terrified of being hurt as his eyes stayed trained on your approaching fingers, face wary until your fingertips touched his hair and tucked it behind his ear.

And then he felt that warmth. That warmth against the shell of his ear. He bit down hard enough on his lip to draw blood, and for once, he was glad for the taste. It was comforting. Familiar. Deserved. He wasn't one for the fucking heartache of tenderness. And god, how his heart ached.

'Come on,' you nestled yourself between his legs again and perched your elbow up on his left leg. 'People must have cared about you before. Might as well get it all out in the open. Be honest with each other now.'

He paused, before the stubbornness wormed its way in again. 'No, they haven't-'

'Well, what about your parents? Your parents must have been kind. Besides, the crew obviously cares about you. I obviously care about you. Stop being so pig-headed.''

He startled you with a laugh: he seemed to choke on it, his teeth baring as he barked it out, yet he still couldn't seem to look at you quite yet. That's alright. You had an eternity left in these few hours.

Kindness?

He couldn't remember a time before joining Stede's crew that he had ever felt such a thing, let alone let it fester in the crevices of his ribcage until he felt the dreaded thing was going to claw its way out. Perhaps, if he let himself fester in the silence for a moment, an image of his mother would squirm its way out of his long repressed memories. Clawing and scratching and digging her pointed nails to dig her way out. No, his mother had never offered him a jot of comfort. She could stay buried in that coffin he had stuffed her down into, instead of rotting inside of him. He had enough barnacles to scrape off his body as it was.

It wasn't as if he had any surprisingly sweet memories of his life before. His mother had never been one for grace: her words always bit at his brain like a frenzied tempest, his actions never good enough. Once, when he was six years old, he had tottered up before the sun rose and followed his older brother down to the docks, trying to please his mother. Even so young, he had spent most of his years yearning to be seen as anything but the 'nuisance' or 'pest' his mother used to spit at his feet, and yearned to return with a line full of fish to please her. To help her with the chores that she always yammered his father had left her to rot with. Had left him. That he rotted away her youth. When he came slinking into the doorway, a nervous smile twitching at his ruddy cheeks, his mother had taken one look at the muddy, damp fringes of his trousers and had slapped him clean across the face for his troubles.

Another part of him remembered her warmth. The same that radiated off your palm as you spread your fingers across his knee; the way she would sometimes scutter into his bed at night, and he could smell the harsh sting of alcohol on her breath as she curled up and hugged him close against her chest. Of the way she would sometimes let him sit on her knee once the three of them had returned home after service, and she would brush back his growing hair and he would curl himself up to chase the stray ray of sunlight that glowed against her neck.

It had left him a Gordian mess of a man. Simultaneously spending his life seeking any kind of validation, any kind of affection, while his stubborn self-preservation did its best to push everyone away.And yet here you came, watching him with those sweet, sad eyes. Swinging the sword to undo him.

'I don't remember much about them', he replied curtly, but not unkindly. 'My father left us when I was young. I was... mainly left to my own devices.'

You nod slowly, letting his words thinking in. Letting the misery drenching every seething heave of his tongue wash over your head. 'Well', you began to rub your thumb in circles against his trousers, 'at least you have us here now. One good thing to add to the pile.'

There we go. The knot's slowly being undone.

You tried to smile, but the intensity of his gaze falling on you again unsettled you.

'You're right.' His voice was far too earnest for his own good. 'I have had one good thing in my life. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.'

You nearly jolted when you felt his hand smack down on top of yours. He had closed his eyes to try and hide himself from his discomfort, but his gloved fingers still slid between yours and squeezed despite himself. Once he was assured they were firmly intertwined: his own grasping tight enough to bust the leather at the stitching, he dared himself to finish his train of thought before he lost his nerve.

'I do... I do care about the crew. None of this was their fault, and they shouldn't have been fucking blamed for it. But I- I, I care about someone else far more than all of this twatty lot put together.'

It's a whisper into the darkness. A despairing yell of defiance against the solitude. A smothered light, long lingering and far longer forgotten. A spark of hope against the threat of ruination. It was a silver tear, glinting like starlight against his iris and falling with a content plop onto the back of your hand.

'I-I-', he stuttered out, clenching his teeth as he wills himself not to cry. 'I-'

The words refused to unlatch from his throat. Luckily, you were adept enough to notice the longing that drew a sad ache across his face.

'Izzy, I-'

'Let me finish', he stumbled out, his whole face now contorting as he struggled with the weight of it all. His bottom lip began to wobble against his will, face falling in on itself.

'I have-I have... love. For you. 'What I'm trying to say is'-, he shakes his head, chiding himself.

'Izzy, I know, it's alright. I know. I understand.' You grabbed tighter onto the back of your hand, enveloping it with your free one until his stopped shaking, begging him to realise you could see him.

'No-. No. If I don't say it now, I'm worried I never will.'

'Take your time, take your time. We have all the time in the world'. A sob finally gasped out from Izzy, chest heaving as he felt you draw his hands up towards your mouth. Still safe. Still warm. Still firmly cupped between your own, but the feel of your lips brushing against his knuckles was enough to send him reeling. The gentle peck that followed, though, was enough to finally let him break free.

A tentative finger reached out, checking for any signs of repulsion before landing awkwardly to point into the blade of your shoulder. He seemed to freeze: immobile marble frozen in fear as he seemed unaware as to what to next. After a few wary blinks, he clumsily spent a few seconds trying to manoeuvre the rest of his arm to cross across your back, before tugging your torso to lean closer towards him.

For a moment, it finally seems as if the world has skittered upright on his axis again. It felt normal. It felt right, feeling him grow comfortable with affection again as he melted, for the second time that week, into your hug. For his sake, as he burrowed his head into the pulse point of your neck until his stubble began to tickle your collar bone, you pretended not to hear the maimed whimpers that struggled past his closed lips.

The only time he moved was to raise his head up towards your nose, bumping it playfully against the tip of your own. Then another graze. A rub, and then another one, his eyes the whole time languidly drawn down to stare at your cupid's bow, until he slowly brought himself down to breathe unsteadily against your mouth. After a final moment of contemplation, he blinked placidly before closing his eyes and tilting his head to close the miniscule distance between the two of you.

His jaw was tense as you ran your finger down it, so busy trying to commit to his memory the pressure of your lips against his bottom one that he was forgetting to breath. But he didn't pull away. In fact, his hand clamped around your neck, digging almost painfully into your back as he stumblingly latched onto you, forcing himself further against your opening mouth. His hand found solace by cupping the back of your skull, chest squeezed against your breasts as he opened his lips and almost devoured you whole.

A loud 'awww!' erupted from your side, making the two of you jolt apart. The only problem was, Izzy's bottom lip had been rather firmly attached to yours. This meant that as you drew back, Izzy, in his stubborn unwillingness to let you go, let his bottom lip drag down along your inner mouth until a line of saliva connected your bottom lips, which only made the person the other side of the brig giggle even louder.

'You guys are cute', Black Pete yawned with a wakening stretch.

'Yes!', Roach chimed in as he teddy bear rolled his lanky legs round in front of him. 'I swear!', he continues, ostentatiously wiping his finger underneath his eye, 'I must be crying! I'm two seconds away from going up there and commencing our escape myself.'

With a tilt of your head that hit Izzy's chin, you looked at the cook incredulously. Izzy only gazed down at you past the crook of his nose, wonderstruck as the he let the words wash over his head.

'You. You really think you can take on all those very competent pirates up there.'

'Of course!'

'You cried for twenty minutes earlier about soup!'

Roach waved his hand unconvincingly in front of his face. 'Broth, it was broth! But I'm great with knives, remember! I have one hidden in my underwear right now!'

'Why... why is it in your underwear?', Oluwande piped in as he rested his head on the side of a barrel.

'Yeah, you weren't captured', Archie added, shuffling her own head off Jim's shoulder to look out past the bars. 'Why isn't it, I don't know, in your pocket or something.'

Even though Roach has opened his mouth to answer, his train of thought is broken by the tired grumble of another one of your friends. 'I hate to admit it, but that was actually very sweet', Lucius chimed in, twisting his lips into a shit-eating grin as he eyed the both of you up, another cigarette now firmly tucked in and freshly lit between his fingers as he took a drag.

'Is everyone on this fucking boat awake?!', Izzy cried, wrapping a hand protectively around your shoulder joint.

You snorted, burying your head protectively against the soft skin of his bellybutton. The sound of the crew beginning to argue with an increasingly impatient Izzy was like music to your ears; the monster was beginning to retreat.

No longer did it hang and shake and pierce the walls with its talons until it bled umbras. It retreated: chased away by the comely love of your crew. Of your family. Of the man who held you protectively against him, blinding you with his tender love.

#ofmd #ofmd imagine #our flag means death #izzy hands #izzy hands imagine #izzy hands x reader #izzy hands fluff #izzy hands angst #ofmd season 2 #con o'neill #Israel hands #israel hands imagine #Israel hands x reader #Lucius spriggs #edward teach #stede bonnet #black Pete #OFMD season 2 #oluwande #roach #jim jimenez #archie #buttons #wee John feeney

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part eleven

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, mentions of death, scars

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 11.4k

Early Tuesday morning, you opened the door to Alexia who–to your surprise, but not really–had on a pair of training shorts, a plain jersey under an unzipped hoodie, a New Era cap on, her hair left down while a pair of sunglasses completed her look. And just like the other time she came to visit, she had you in her arms the moment she was close enough, pulling you into her for a kiss on your temple and then your lips.

“Hello, you.” You said as you pecked her cheek, smelling the familiar sharpness of sunscreen on her skin. Then you held her at arm’s length so you could look at her better before you asked, “Did you just come from training? I thought you won’t be back until Saturday?” 

Alexia chuckled, clearly amused, raising her brows at you for your shameless display at checking her out. But who could blame you, really, with her looking so damn good in a training jersey. She replied, “No, I’m actually–”

She halted, tilting her head to the side to look over you, and then she switched to English when she spoke again, taking her sunglasses off to place them on top of her cap as she grinned, “Hola, chiquita, you ready?”

When you looked over your shoulder you saw Elisa framed by the archway and the open door that led to the backfield, standing in her favourite Alexia jersey and Barça shorts, cheeks tinted red while her forehead shone with sweat, a football between her hands. 

“Hi, Alexia!” Elisa’s hand fluttered in an eager wave, her grin a brilliant beam, before she began to take off her sneakers and zoomed right up the stairs, shouting over her shoulders. “I’m ready! Lemme just grab my stuff!” 

Ah, now it made sense. 

You wondered why Elisa couldn’t sit still last night and even during the day, she practically buzzed with excitement. Initially, you associated the surge in energy from the promise of another day spent with Alexia, but now you understood that whatever the two of them had planned involved football and that was the reason why Elisa’s enthusiasm for today had increased twofold. 

As if Alexia was your mirror, you found her reflecting your expression when you turned back to her; she had an appraising gaze fixed on Elisa accompanied by an amused smile, and your heart filled with the urge to kiss her so you did. You kept your arms loose around her neck when you parted so you could look into those eyes you found yourself missing every minute that you were apart.

“When did you guys plan this?” You asked as you toyed with the ends of her hair.

“When we were at the Barça store. Elisa asked me for some tips and I offered to train her for the day.” Alexia hummed, fiddling with the hoops of your jeans. Then the inner corners of her brows quirked up, bashful when she asked, “I hope that’s okay?” 

Touched by her thoughtfulness, you traced the line of her brow as you spoke, “More than okay as long as it’s alright with you. And I should be thanking you.”

“It is, don’t worry. I get to spend time with the both of you and play football at the same time. Win-win.” Alexia said in a matter-of-fact tone and flashed you a radiant half-smile, and it made your chest and cheeks warm, obviously charmed by her, and the lightness in her eyes made those words all the more earnest to you. So you cupped her cheek and pressed a soft kiss against her jaw in gratitude. 

Then you whispered, “Thank you.”

Alexia pulled up at a deserted football pitch, the morning still early enough that the dew had not entirely dissipated from the grass when you got out of the car. The sound of the doors closing echoed from the emptiness of the space, Alexia’s call over the roof of the car sounding louder than it actually was. 

“Chiquita, I’m gonna need your help unloading the equipment at the back.”

Elisa stuck a thumbs up into the air as an answer. 

As you made up your mind that you’d just watch them do their thing, you tinkered with your camera around your neck, following them to the trunk but after Alexia popped it open, the sight both surprised and amused you. When Alexia said equipment, you’d envisioned a bag of balls, several cones, and the like but what you hadn’t considered–when in fact you really should’ve–was Alexia’s disposition for coming prepared, the scene in front of you a testament against your blatant underestimation of her ability. You watched them haul bags upon bags from the trunk–ranging from pop-up goals, agility poles and ladders, rebound boards, and other football paraphernalia–and as you spied the growing pile of things by the side of the car, you snapped a photo before laughter escaped your lips.

Two pairs of eyes darted your way with equal confusion, stopping their busy hands for a moment. You pointed at the pile, “Do you always keep these back here?”

“Why, of course, darling. All the time.” Despite the dryness of her tone, the term of endearment set your cheeks aflame. Then Alexia raised her brows at Elisa, “Elisa, could you please tell your mom to stop being mean and help us?”

“Yeah, Mom, stop laughing at us and come help, please.” Elisa giggled, gladly playing along before she eventually returned back to her task.

You scoffed with no real sting to it, grabbing the water bottle rack and slinging a bag over your shoulder as you whined, “I can’t believe you’re ganging up on me.”

At that, Alexia only scrunched her nose at you, smiling, before she closed the trunk–all the equipment were out finally!–then the three of you began lugging everything to the empty field, happy to follow their lead. After setting down the things you took where Alexia and Elisa were, you went to the sidelines, unfolding the chairs Alexia brought along. When you turned back to the scene, Elisa was already doing some stretches–as per Alexia’s instructions probably–while Alexia set up and, once done, she joined Elisa to warm up as well. But before she started, she waved you over as she called out, “Come join us!”

The desire to join them wasn’t lost to you but so was the weight of your omission to Alexia about what happened while you were gone–what would you say when you pass out from exertion if you joined them?–so you gave her a dismissive wave, lifting your camera as an excuse. Relief filled you when, with a shrug of her shoulders as if to say it was your loss, Alexia patted Elisa’s back before she pointed to the opposite goal line, taking off in a jog right after, their strides in time with each other. You put your camera over your eye and took a photo of them, but even though you busied your hands with the lever and buttons of your camera, your mind remained occupied with another matter.

The past few days were spent in a state of bliss; the ease by which you and Alexia had slipped back into each other’s lives was more than a surprise to you, pleasant in its own right but it was beginning to dim the longer you kept your story to yourself. It wasn’t a deliberate omission. You just hadn’t found the right time to breach the topic because, after all, how could one easily part with such a fact to a lover when even you dare not step to that precipice and stare into that void? But you knew you at least owe Alexia that much; to enlighten her about what she was truly signing up for. 

Today. 

You promised yourself you were going to talk to her about it today.

Returning back to yourself, you regarded the scene before you, took photos, and shouted encouragement every now and then. It continued on for a couple more hours: Alexia, who had occupied the role of the trainer, stood a vigilant watch over her novitiate, guiding Elisa with instructions you couldn’t quite hear but the complementing gestures she made gave you a semblance of what they were, as she exclaimed and clapped her hands to compliment and motivate; and Elisa followed with apt diligence, serious and attentive to every line, every move. By the time their feet had stopped disturbing the grass, the sun neared its highest peak, its warmth and the promise of a good day had already invited more than a handful of people to occupy other parts of the field. 

After they’d finished cooling down, you watched Elisa run off to the restrooms while Alexia trudged her way over to you, bags of equipment on her which she deposited on another growing pile on the sideline, taking a water bottle in hand. She brushed her hand over the nape of your neck for a second before she dropped to the chair next to you with an audible huff, and you patted her knee in response to her apparent exhaustion while she drank from her bottle, just a little out of breath. 

“Damn. Sorry, I forgot to bring the umbrella.” Alexia said as she shielded her eyes to look at you, one eye squinted from the harsh light. She softly grazed a knuckle over your cheek, “Did you put sunblock on?”

You replied in the affirmative as you leaned into her touch, and Alexia nodded in approval before she took her hand away, taking another sip of water. In the silence that followed, you thought, ‘Should I tell her now?’

“Alexia, I–”

Alexia’s lips crinkled around a mouthful of water, raising her brows at you before she jutted her chin forward. Confused, you looked to where she indicated and found Elisa surrounded by a group of kids, some of them taller and looked to be slightly older, who now occupied the once empty space that Elisa and Alexia had just been training on and in a blink of an eye, a small game of football had commenced. Shouts and laughter filled the air as they continued, passing, tackling, shooting; Elisa flew untethered along with her peers, face free from any worries and filled with glee. 

The two of you were a fair distance away from the youngsters that they hadn’t noticed nor recognised that Alexia watched over them with a proud–if not a bit sombre–countenance for the sight, probably, to her, was a validation–proof–of how far women had cemented their place in football compared to when she was of their age. These kids, boys and girls alike, now had their own paragons of light to follow, the names and numbers of their guiding stars shining bold on their backs–the names of women… Alexia’s including. You regarded the woman next to you, chest welling up at the soft gaze you saw there aimed towards the children, a thought clear in your mind that you longed to speak, ‘This is the fruit of your labour, what you and the others had fought–and still fighting–for.’

Alexia’s eyes flitted to meet yours as if magnetised by your volition, the colour of them almost green against the backdrop of the field.

“If Elisa was given the chance to play for Barçelona’s youth team, what would you do?”

You blinked as the question caught you off guard. There was no doubt what you would do but the abruptness by which it was brought up made you squint your eyes at her. Why would she bring that up unless she knew something? Unless she was about to do or already had done something? But as you regarded her with a careful eye, you found nothing in her features that betrayed answers to your questions, her face a blank canvas–perhaps a bit too neutral.

“Alexia, did you do something?”

Alexia shrugged, pulling the corners of her mouth down for good measure before it settled to a smile, then she answered in the negative, “Nothing. It was a question. Purely hypothetical.” 

Her answer did little to convince you but you answered in truth anyway. “Move here, of course.” 

At that, Alexia only hummed but a light twinkled in her eye–one not dissimilar to the one you found in them the night you met–a light that told you she knew something you didn’t. She brushed her thumb over her chin before she tore her gaze away, focusing her attention back to the match in front of her. And before you could question her further, excited screams filled the air and, when Alexia stood right after, you knew she’d been found.

You stood aside as the kids flocked towards Alexia and you captured the scene with a smile while Alexia conversed with the kids, bumping their fists and posing with them when they asked for a photo. You felt a presence beside you and, upon turning your head, saw Elisa with a look of admiration on her face, a mirrored expression among the children there. It went on for a bit and another game of football commenced but now with Alexia in the mix, but half an hour later, you were all packed up with everything back in Alexia’s trunk, and the three of you were off. 

On the way back after lunch, Elisa and Alexia chatted, discussing things about football with equal enthusiasm. The sound of their amusement filled the car, and with the day ending on such a high note, you felt compelled not to say anything about what you planned to tell Alexia as you didn’t have the heart to bring it down. 

And as you laughed at one of Alexia’s dry jokes, you resigned your promise.

Tomorrow. 

You would talk to her about it tomorrow. 

Unlike the day before, Alexia came by early–early enough that Elisa was still asleep while you, yourself, only woke up just about half an hour ago–but that was no surprise. It was rare for Alexia to sleep in; the rigorous conditioning her body had borne throughout the years made her circadian rhythm almost permanent, something that you’d teased her about from your time before–something that you teased her about just then.

“I don’t hear you complaining about it.” She muttered against your ear and, though you couldn’t see it for she had her front pressed against your back with her hands gentle on your hips as you made two sets of coffee, you could practically hear the pout in her voice. 

“I’m not! It’s actually kinda cute.” You laughed before you added, “You’re cute.”

“I’m really not,” Alexia practically whined, hiding her face in the crook of your neck and the feel of her there tickled you, so you tried to angle yourself away but she clung to you as you felt her laugh against your skin.

“Alexia! You’re going to make me spill the coffee!” 

When the both of you finally made it to the couch with no drop of coffee spilt, you tucked in by Alexia’s side, her arm over your shoulder as the both of you revelled in each other’s company, sipping at your beverage, you broached the news to her. 

“Your brother’s coming here?” She asked with surprise and with both brows raised.

At how she posed the question, you couldn’t help but giggle. “I love the way you made it sound like he’s not the one who owns this house. But yes, later today, probably around evening or earlier, depending on when he’ll finish his meeting in Madrid this morning.” 

Alexia blew a puff of air, a bit petulant, as she muttered low–although still deliberately loud enough for you to hear, “It’s kinda easy to forget when he’s never here.”

The both of you broke out laughing. Then a pensive look took over her demeanour, her fingers fiddled with the ends of her hair, something that you noticed she did whenever she felt at peace or whenever she was worrying about something. You had a feeling it was the latter with the way her brows were slightly creased in the middle, but the question that left her lips, which was spoken in a soft tongue, confirmed your inkling to be true.

“What’s he like?”

Ah. 

Seeing Alexia unsure about herself was a rare occurrence, even more than seeing her vulnerable which was saying a lot. So you laid a hand on the nape of her neck, chest warming when she leaned back to seek more of your touch, and you ran your thumb over the skin just below her ear to keep her at ease. 

“He’s… my best friend and the best brother I could ever ask for. He’s funny;  likes to tease me a lot, but he’s protective.” At the mention of the word, Alexia’s frown deepened before you could even finish what you wanted to say, “And trust me when I tell you, he’ll definitely like you.”

But your reassurance seemed to have gone out the other ear for the movement of her finger didn’t cease and her eyes remained clouded with something akin to worry. You allowed her another moment more with her thoughts before you booped her nose and watched as her eyes fluttered, the light of her presence returning in them as she regarded you. And so, with light amusement, you said in the hopes that Alexia would finally listen, “Just give him the same attitude you gave me a minute ago, you’ll get along really well.” 

At that, Alexia let out a small chuckle and, as it trailed off, the smile that graced her lips lingered; what you said hadn’t fully expelled the doubt from her eyes but the fact it was lessened made you feel better. 

Alexia sighed after another lapse in silence. “I just want to make a good impression, you know? And thank him.”

“Thank him for what?”

She shifted so her face was angled more to you and held a gentle finger on your chin to keep you looking into her eyes, soft and earnest.

“For intertwining your fate with mine,” she said, each syllable spoken with the gentlest of air.

Your heart stuttered at her confession, the gravity of it heavier with Alexia’s belief in fate, and words eluded you so you could do nothing but take her hand to reveal her palm, and kissed her there.

Then after another brief pause, Alexia asked, “Does he know about us?”

“I think so. I haven’t told him anything directly but I think he’s put two and two together.” You pushed the memory of how your heart monitor betrayed you back from the forefront of your mind, but your cheeks heated up anyway. As you massaged the spot between Alexia’s brows with your thumb in the hopes of soothing her frown away, you added, “Please, don’t worry about it too much. He’s Derek; as long as I’m happy, he’s happy.”

“And are you? Happy?” The vulnerability that you found in her eyes made you ache, not unpleasant, just a sense of fullness that longed to break free. You pressed a kiss on her temple, then to the corner of her lips.

“More than I could ever put into words. You make me so happy, Alexia. You really do.”

Later that day, just around late afternoon after spending most of the day training–you, of course, only a spectator–the three of you found yourselves walking along the beach after a late lunch. It was a bit further on when, as you conversed with each other, an exclamation made you stop and look over your shoulders.

“Oh, my god.”

Standing a few paces behind you was a young man, tall in frame, cheeks still round with traces of his youth, the stubble along his jaw and chin a direct contrast, making it known to you that he’d probably just recently entered his early twenties. The first thing you noted was the camera that dangled from his neck–you recognised the model, vintage–and you barely schooled your features from showing your surprise; he was a photographer not only for leisure but if he was, well, that was one expensive camera for a hobbyist. 

Habit made you step aside–you’d been out in public with Alexia a handful of times now to know how this would go–but as you did, the young man’s eyes followed you, intent, and that confounded you. 

“I’m sorry, did I interrupt you?” His brown eyes flitted between you, Alexia, then Elisa, his small smile apologetic as the paleness of his cheeks turned rosy.

Alexia waved a careless hand in the air as she spoke in English, “No, you’re okay.”

“How can we help you?” You asked, smiling at him politely. 

The man stepped forward as he patted the pouch of his shirt, then he dug his hands into his jean pockets, then you watched him procure a marker, his hands shaking as he handed it to you. 

“I can’t believe it’s you. I wish I had your book with me but I don’t–I, I’m sorry, can I get a photo and your signature?”

You couldn’t prevent the surprise from showing on your face even if you had the time to try. Your eyes drifted to Alexia, and the question that was clear in your mind that you knew Alexia could probably read on your face. What was happening?

The action of yourself nodding preceded the intention and you watched, still in a state of confusion, as the man handed his phone over to Alexia so she could take a photo of you both. As you posed and looked at Alexia behind the camera, you found a familiar light in her eyes and from the slight upturn of her brows, you knew Alexia was more than slightly amused at the role reversal. When Alexia began to count down, you smiled at the person taking the photo more than for the image itself, and once done, she handed the lad his phone back.

You signed the back of a used plane ticket–the only paper of decent quality, as per his words, that he could find on his person that could house your signature–and after handing it back to him, you said, smiling, “I’m sorry if I looked more than a little confused. This doesn’t happen often, I only ever get asked for photos at events, and it’s usually the other way around!” 

“No, please, don’t be sorry. I–I just truly admire your photojournalistic work,” he stuttered as he tucked the plane ticket in his shirt pocket. “I read your book about your most recent conflict coverage and that photoset… It chilled me to the bone the first time I saw it. I’m sorry you had to see that in person.”

Images tore their way out from the shadows of your mind, their teeth bare and gnashing: vacant eyes from where souls were ripped away, crooked fingers accusatory, and the stench–

You shut your eyes as a malignant chill crept over you, crawling under your skin that left your muscles weak, and even beneath the Barcelona summer sun, you trembled. And the memories flooded back: Elisa with her mother, the shots, and now the scars on your body burnt anew. You took a deep breath and took careful note of where you were: there was a baby crying a few paces away, a large wave just arrived home to the shore, there was a call of a seagull overhead, someone with coffee walked past you, and… there was the familiar warmth and weight of Alexia’s hand on your back.

The moment you opened your eyes, the man was looking at you with concern and regret while, when you turned your head to the side, Alexia and Elisa were obviously distressed.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

You held a hand up before the man could hurt himself. “It’s alright. They come back to me sometimes without being reminded so you don’t need to apologise. And thank you for your concern.”

More than willing to change the topic, you jutted your chin at his camera, “Are you a photojournalist, too?”

“That’s the plan. I’m only working freelance at the moment and I’m not really sure which branch to pursue. I can hear conflict photojournalism calling to me, though.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. In his answer, you sensed a ‘but’ so you asked as much.

He casted his eyes down for a moment before he regarded you again, gaze wary. “But… I’m scared I won’t be able to handle seeing those things in person. And I’m scared of being hurt, of being killed. Just like what you saw and what… what happened to you. I don’t know if I could survive it.”

From the corner of your eyes, you could see and feel the weight of Alexia’s stare–a burning question that branded you–and you clenched your fist as guilt flooded your veins. Foolish! You should’ve told her yesterday. She deserved more than hearing about it like this. But no matter what was done was done–the moment had passed–and the only thing you could do now was to tell her after this. 

Despite your inner turmoil, you focused on the man, and smiled at him softly for you understood what he was going through, the same place you once stood before you answered the call of that very wind.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a difficult choice to make. The camera cannot shield you from the danger and the violence and, well, death, but it can bear witness, and can show the world what’s happening. You have your whole life ahead of you, you don’t need to jump in just yet. And if you hear that call again a bit later and find yourself ready, then, why not?”

At that, the young man’s demeanour brightened. Then his brows scrunched up, now seemingly worried, his question spoken with a light, enquiring air, “You mentioned in your book that this was the closest you’d ever come to dying, do you think you’ll ever get back into conflict photography?”

With the uncouth way it was posed, the question made you flinch with its directness. You had half a mind to reprimand but you recognised this–the journalistic instinct to question, to uncover, even if certain situations shouldn’t warrant such intrusions–so you let it pass because as was the case for every learned skill, interviewing demanded the same amount of practice to develop. He was young, he still had so much to learn and time, as was the case for everything, would be his teacher. 

A shuffling sound drew your attention to Elisa who was standing close to Alexia, clutching your lover’s hand with both of hers in a firm grip, her wide eyes fixed on you upon hearing what the man said, a sombre question reflected in her eyes, ‘Are you going to leave me, too?’ 

Although the call was very much there–the need to be the echo chamber for those who’d lost their voice still strong in your soul–you found yourself now tethered: to love and responsibility, so you shook your head, more so for Elisa’s sake than the man’s.

“It’s selfish, I know, but I have so much more to lose now. But, as I said, the call will always be there and I can’t control what the future brings, so who knows, really?” You shrugged, smiling at the man.

Satisfied, the man retreated but not before you gave him a business card for you and Derek’s firm; with a little bit of guidance and experience, he had potential to do good–although you did warn him that a spot for him wasn’t guaranteed, but he still accepted it gratefully. Once the man finally left, Elisa approached you, her shirt bunched up at the hem from the firm grip of her fists, eyes wide as she gazed up at you.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

You cupped her cheek and brushed a thumb under a glassy eye–Elisa was upset.“I’m alright, honey. How are you feeling?”

Elisa’s chin quivered and a tear ran down her cheek, and when she spoke, her words were whispered in haste. “Are you going to leave? Please, don’t, I don’t want you to get hurt again, I don’t want you to die. I–” 

Oh, Elisa.

Immediately you took her into your arms in the hopes that you could ease her distress and when she clutched at your shirt as her tears soaked through the fabric, your heart began to ache and your eyes burnt as well. 

“I’m not leaving, ladybug. I’m not. I won’t leave you behind, I promise.”

The ride to the house was a silent affair; even the short walk that led up to Alexia’s car was suffused with silence. After getting in the car and putting her seatbelt on Elisa immediately dozed off–from the emotional toll on top of the physical strain she’d endured during the day–and it was relieving. Alexia on the other hand…

Ever since she’d heard the words from Ben–the photojournalist–she completely receded and everything she did, seemed to you, were performed on autopilot; her every movement mechanical, stiff. Her face remained stoic: her brows formed a flat line, the light in her eyes so ineffably dim made it known to you she was somewhere far away; the way that her hands shook as she gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles told you which plane Alexia had found herself in–a hellscape. 

It hurt seeing Alexia like this and you felt like you had to say something but you bit your tongue and instead, you placed a gentle hand on her right knee and applied just enough pressure to hopefully pull her back from her thoughts. It seemed to work for when she glanced at you, her mask of passivity cracked with the way her gaze softened, her lips now pressed into a thin line, almost quivering. The moment only lasted seconds but it left a profound mark in your heart, made all the more indelible when Alexia took your hand in hers–even with the heat from Barcelona’s summer evening, you felt her palm cold as ice–and intertwined your fingers in a firm grip while the other remained to steer the car until you reached the house.

By the time you arrived, the last vestiges of the sun tinged the skies in its sombre purple and pink, the tangerine glow from within the house a stark contrast to the growing darkness. When Alexia parked the car, the front door opened and more of that warm light spilled out and a shadow stretched long in its wake, and at the end of it, the familiar, large frame of Derek.

While Elisa immediately jumped out of the car to greet her uncle, Alexia’s hands remained on the wheel despite the lack of engine, now gripping for a different reason, her eyes trained on the imposing figure of your brother. To be fair, who wouldn’t? With the top of his head nearly grazing the doorframe and the width of his shoulders, just by looking at his stature alone, most wouldn’t even consider the words ‘soft’ and ‘sentimental’ to describe him. So the reflection of anxiety in her eyes was not new to you, but this was different because this was Alexia.

You placed a hand over one of hers on the wheel, coaxing her attention by squeezing her hand. “Alexia?”

She looked at you, blinked. Then a strained, “Yeah?”

“You’re going to be fine.”

Alexia looked at Derek again before she whispered through her teeth, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. Hey,” you brushed your thumb over her cheek before you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, Alexia’s eyes flicked back to you. Then you took her hand, pressed your lips on the back of it. “Alexia, breathe. You can do this, and I’ll be right here with you.”

True to your words, the moment Alexia gathered the courage to walk up the porch, Derek’s face broke into a grin that thawed the ever-present ice in his demeanour, enveloping Alexia in a hug. Despite Alexia’s tall frame, she looked almost like a child next to Derek, needing to crane her neck to look up when it was usually the other way around with you, as they chatted.

Then Derek finally took note of Alexia’s demeanour now that she was past Derek’s defences, and he voiced with concern, “Are you okay, Alexia? You look a bit pale. Do you need to stay over?” 

The reminder almost made Alexia a ghostly apparition by how much more her colour drained out from her. She pressed her lips in a thin line, dug her hands into her short pockets, while the muscles in her back coiled so much that you could see the planes of her muscles through her jersey. She replied tersely, “I’m alright and no, I’d rather not disturb you.” 

At what she said, you knew what you needed to do. You went to Derek and said in a voice enough for only him to hear.

“Derek, could you help Elisa start packing her things? I need to do something.”

“Okay.” A question was clear in his eyes but like the many times he did before, he didn’t press you for any information, only nodded, squeezed your shoulder, before he went back inside but not before he enveloped Alexia in a farewell hug and told her to get some rest. Then you walked back to where Alexia stood, still as tense as you left her, and you pulled at her arm gently, coaxing her towards her car–to the passenger seat.

“Alexia, give me your keys.”

Alexia looked at you, still pale but her eyes now held confusion, and maybe a hint of defiance, in them. “Why?”

“I’m not about to let you drive home by yourself like this.”

“No. I’m well capable of–”

You fixed her with a stern eye. “Give me your keys. Now.” 

Alexia regarded you with a wary eye but she sighed, finally relenting, and dropped her keys in your open palm. She sat in the passenger seat, an elbow up against the window and chin propped up on her knuckles, quiet apart from the occasional direction to the way to her apartment. The silence was heavy, but you found yourself not entirely too bothered by it for it gave you a chance to gather your own thoughts–to try and find the words to explain–but you couldn’t help but take furtive glances at Alexia, who was looking more and more dejected by the minute as the streetlights casted shadows on her face and made her demeanour excessively morose, the sheen in her eyes prominent in darkness. 

You arrived and Alexia let you in, dropping her keys in a little dish on a cabinet by the door, the air still and silent apart from the clink of metal against porcelain and the soft breath of clothes rustling as the two of you padded into Alexia’s apartment. Briefly, you allowed your eyes to explore the space but as you entered the living room, your palms began to sweat as the nerves began to set in. 

Alexia was hiding behind her stoicism again, sitting on the couch seeming as calm as ever, fixing you with a look that betrayed the placidness of her demeanour. You sat too, opting for the space by Alexia’s side as opposed to the lone loveseat as you knew that the nature of what you were about to reveal required the lost distance between your bodies; for her sake and yours.

For a long moment, you couldn’t speak; you opened your mouth a number of times but you stopped short for fear that the words would fail you. Alexia waited patiently and only when she took your hand in the space between hers did you find the courage to begin, placing your other hand over hers; she was with you, you were with her.

And so, you told her.

From the night you left, when you were about to tell her what you were going to get yourself into, to your arrival and the conflict you needed to cover. About being caught in the middle of fire, about the nature by which you met Elisa. And then, finally, you told her about what happened to you: the shots, the hospital, and your recovery. You watched, as this enfolded, the way Alexia became increasingly tense, she’d taken your hand in a grip at one point, and you felt the warmth in her hand dissipate into cold sweat, could feel the way she trembled. By the end of it, Alexia looked paler than you’d ever seen her before, wide eyes red and glassy; fragile in all sense of the word.

The silence that followed was like a fog, heavy and suffocating, and the words that bounced against the walls made the fog even thicker that your chest began to ache.

“When were you planning to tell me?” Came the even question.

“Yesterday, but I changed my mind. I should’ve just told you.” 

Another pause, her demeanour remained the same. And then, “How bad was it?”

You considered lying; considered telling her that it wasn’t that bad to appease her, to protect her from that knowledge but there was a plea that shone in her eyes that stopped you. So, with a shaky breath, you whispered, “I… they said that my heart stopped. Twice.”

Alexia inhaled sharply and you winced when her next words were spoken in a broken tongue, a lone tear running down her cheek.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Alexia whispered. 

“I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

“You nearly died!” Alexia shouted as she stood up suddenly, eyes wide and frantic, while she threw her hands in the air before she dug her fingers into her hair. She must’ve realised how loud her voice was because she spoke her next words in a lower tone but it was restrained all the same, tight and thin as a string on the brink of breaking. 

“There was no other way I’d take it! What if I’d lost you and I didn’t even know?” Then her eyes widened even further, realisation clear in them, and then her breath caught, words coming out in a sob. “No, I did lose you, didn’t I? Your heart stopped! Your heart–”

Alexia’s knees buckled beneath her and you barely caught her in time. The weight of her against you brought the both of you down to the ground, the softness of the rug doing little to lessen the fall, and it left you cradling Alexia’s head in your arms, her ear against your chest, as you tried, to no avail, to ease her pain.

Alexia had always seemed like an immovable mountain to most people, strong and collected in the face of adversities, especially so to her supporters who’d only ever truly seen her display an air of vulnerability a handful of times, so to witness her so broken like this–prone and weak on her knees, spine contorting in an anguished arch under the heaviness that you put in her chest, the weight too much for her to bear–and knowing that it was you who caused her to feel this much misery… Oh, how the pain seared through you like a burning lance! 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You whispered this litany of lamentations against her ear, your voice thick with tears. But, in your mind, you were apologising for more than that; for all the mistakes you’d made, for leaving, for almost leaving into that endless night.

Alexia twisted your shirt in a grip, the fabric now soaked with her tears, gnashing her teeth in a fierce display of guilt. “And I wasn’t even there for you. Fuck, I wasn’t even there. I–”

“You cannot blame yourself for this, darling. I won’t let you.” You said, voice firm despite the gentleness of it. And you proceeded, “And you think you weren’t there but you were, Alexia. You saved me.”

It was the truth that Alexia needed–that you needed her–to hear. She was your light in that darkness: in that sleep and the haze that came after it, and even more so now than ever. You tightened your grip around her, kissed the top of her head, and brushed her tears away.

“You were there, Alexia, always. You just didn’t know it.”

You were drying your hair with a towel on the bed when Alexia entered the bedroom, hair still dripping from her shower that left dark spots around the collar of her grey shirt, the skin around her eyes remained rosy but now faint, her short shorts barely appearing beneath the hem of her shirt, and–

“Is that…?”

Alexia followed your gaze and looked down at the string around her left ankle, the silver of the charm glinting in the low light. “Yes.”

“You kept it…” You whispered as emotions caught in your throat. 

“Of course, I did. It…” Alexia bit her lip, casted her gaze to the side for a moment, before she met your eyes again, eyes so openly sincere you longed to kiss her right then. “It makes me feel more at ease while playing. It makes me feel safe.”

At that, you grazed your thumb over the string around your wrist. “I know the feeling.”

A silence fell over you as Alexia stood just a few paces away from the foot of her bed, feet shifting beneath her as she gnawed on her lower lip. She looked so small like that, so young and unsure. So you shifted your weight, and made space for her as you said softly, “Ale, come here. Let me dry your hair.”

That seemed to be what Alexia was waiting for because she finally shuffled forward, and sat down between your legs with her back turned to you. Gently, you began to dry her hair, loving the way she craned her neck back as you did so. Once it was only damp enough now, you ran your fingers through her hair, carefully untangling the knots between the strands, before you moved your hand lower, to the nape of her neck first then to her shoulders, putting just enough pressure there with the intent to release the tension in her muscles.

Alexia sighed deeply, tilting her head sideways so you could move your hands more freely. And a moment after, she turned and looked up at you, eyes lidded and shining with vulnerability and… something else that you couldn’t quite decipher but your heart ached all the same from the depth of it, and then slowly, she rose, and then the warmth of her breath caressed your cheek, her lips on yours. The kiss was tender and sweet in its lightness and before you knew it, you were eased down to the bed, her warmth washing over you as if her body was the sun and you were the earth being graced by her light.

You cupped her cheek, feeling the line of her jaw, savouring her lips when a wetness burnt against the skin below your eye, tasted salt on your tongue, and felt the stutter in Alexia’s breath. Soon, Alexia broke the kiss entirely, sinking into the crook of your neck where she wept silently, and you could do nothing but wrap your arms around her frame to shelter her, to assure her that you were still here and that, truly, the worst had passed. You held her there until sweet repose, at last, eased her into a place without pain and you waited for sleep to come, while regarding her countenance and relishing the soft caress of her breath on your skin, when not a moment later, you joined Alexia in slumber; your heart finally beating in time with hers.

It was still dark when you woke several hours later with a comforting warmth pressed against your back and the weight of Alexia’s arms around your waist, her breath warm against the nape of your neck. You shifted closer to the source of your comfort and placed your hand over hers. From the way her hold on you tightened, you knew she was awake.

“Can I confess something?” Alexia whispered, voice raw.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath. 

“I waited for you.” A pause. “Until I saw you at the Olympics, I was still waiting for you. I knew the odds of you coming back to me were against me, but I hoped you’d come back.”

“Thank you for waiting.” You murmured.

“Thank you for coming back.” Alexia choked out, arms tightening around your waist. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

You needed to see her, so you peeled her hands from your waist, turned, and wrapped your arms around her waist.

“I’m here, Alexia. I’m right here with you.” You caressed her cheek, wiping the tear in the corner of her eyes before you whispered against her lips, “If I have to spend my whole life thanking you, so be it.”

Saying goodbye was a difficult affair for everyone–well, except for Derek, of course. Despite Alexia’s offer to drop you, Derek, and Elisa to the airport, you declined, reminding Alexia she needed rest for tomorrow, chuckling lightly at the pout she gave you when you said it, which made you inclined to kiss it away. 

(You ignored Derek’s smirk; you spied him over Alexia’s shoulder looking all too smug for his own good.)

And Elisa, after spending the past few days in Alexia’s company, clung to her waist, lips quivering and eyes glassy with unshed tears, while Alexia tried to appease her. It seemed that Alexia’s celebrity factor had diminished for Elisa and now it dimmed to a newfound word: a friend. You smiled as you watched them chat for a bit longer, before Elisa went inside the car.

When it was your turn to hug Alexia, you sank into her arms, and she in yours, as your heart already longed for her at the thought that in a few minutes, you two would be parted again. It was difficult but you managed to pull away, kissing Alexia on her cheek, then her lips. 

It was your last kiss but as your Uber took you away and as Alexia’s figure shrank in the rearview mirror from the growing distance, this kiss, you felt, held the promise of a future; of something more.

And that, to you, was everything.

You took the call immediately after you saw Alexia’s name on your screen. 

“Alexia, what did you do?”

It was currently late October, over two months since the last time you’d seen her in person, but the both of you–and occasionally Elisa would join the both of you if she was able to catch you after her practice–remained in contact be it through messages, calls, or video calls. So to say that you missed her was more than an understatement and you found that the calls that used to relieve you of your longing for her–although they still very much did–now only served to deepen the growing cavern in your heart that resembled the woman who it belonged to; it was no longer enough, you wanted Alexia. 

But that was not to be the topic of your conversation right now. 

Alexia’s chuckle met your ears, brows crunching up in amusement. She was in a loose shirt, half of her face glazed over in a low, warm glow. “Is this about Elisa’s trial?” 

“Please, Alexia, if you had something to do with Elisa getting scouted, tell me now.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Alexia said, even and light with laughter, but she enunciated the words with an air of seriousness. “I didn’t do anything. Although I admit I did a little digging that day I went to La Masia when you guys were here, remember? I heard Jona say her name in passing and when I checked the list, Elisa’s name was one of the best candidates. Your daughter has talent and a promising dedication to the club, the scout saw that.”

And as her word sank in–as you believed in your bones that Alexia was speaking truthfully–you let out a sigh, sagging into your open palm. 

“Okay, I believe you. I’m sorry, babe… I just had to make sure.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Alexia waved a dismissive hand, and then, “So, what happened?”

“Well, I picked Elisa up today and her coach handed me a brochure and started talking about Elisa’s eligibility for a trial to get into Barça’s youth team.”

“And how did Elisa take it?”

“She’s unusually calm about all of it and that’s exactly the reason why I wanted to call you.” You sighed, “I’m worried she believes she didn’t get in because she did well and that she got in because of her connection to you.”

A pause and you watched as a pensive look passed over Alexia’s face. “Do you mind if I talk to her?” 

“No, not at all. I think that’s a good idea. Hold on.” 

You muted the call and then padded your way to Elisa’s bedroom, then knocked on her door. 

“Ladybug, Alexia is on the phone.”

A moment later the door opened slightly, and Elisa looked through the tiny gap, her brow scrunched up in confusion before she widened the gap enough that she could step out. 

“Alexia?”

You tucked a strand behind her ear. “Yes, honey. She wants to talk to you, only if you want to.”

Elisa gnawed her bottom lip, casted her gaze down for a moment, before she finally nodded. You gave her your phone, watched her close the door, before you made your way down to the kitchen to check on the food you were cooking. It was nearly half an hour later that Elisa joined you, phone in hand, eyes only just a bit raw, which she handed to you after giving you a hug. And when she pulled back, the smile she gave you was small but radiant, and you felt relief as you let her slip back into her room but not before you reminded her that the food was nearly ready. 

“I don’t know what you said to her, but she looks better. Thank you” 

“She just needed a little pep talk.” Alexia smiled at you, soft, “And anytime, my love.”

Two months later, Elisa’s club topped their respective league, won a major regional and national tournament, and Elisa… Elisa passed the trial.

Elisa was going to Barcelona.

‘Come over when you’re done for the day?’

The message was sent about an hour ago. You ran your fingers through your still damp hair, wiping your clammy palms on the fabric of your jeans, as you sent, ‘I’m coming up.’

Two days after Elisa received the news from Barça, you flew by yourself to Barcelona to sort out some paperworks. Derek already offered for the both of you to remain at his place–insisted even, so you wouldn’t get stressed out, which was sweet of him–and you accepted, but you promised you’d find someplace else after you and Elisa settled into your new routine. Alexia knew about all of this, of course, her schedule was filled today so she wasn’t able to be with you. Well… until now.

Now faced with Alexia’s apartment door, to say that you were nervous would be an understatement; you hadn’t seen your lover in the flesh for months, how could your heart not be in danger of leaping out of your chest at the promise of seeing her again soon?

You knocked on the door and only seconds passed between the moment you saw a shadow through the peephole and the door being flung open, and before you could fully comprehend what was happening, you were being pulled inside by the collar of your cardigan and slammed against the door as warm lips pressed on yours, hungry and full of ardour. 

You moaned at the heat of Alexia’s tongue searing the skin of your lower lip, her teeth napping and pulling, before her tongue swept over the same spot, to soothe and salve and sear all over again. Standing on your toes, you wrapped your arms around her neck while you pushed your chest up, seeking her warmth, and you loved the way Alexia’s arms tightened their hold around your waist, pressing you further into the firmness of her body. Then her hands ventured downwards, setting your skin afire in their wake, and you gasped into her mouth the moment she took your ass in her grip and squeezed, the pleasure turning your blood into an entity of potent desire. 

To your surprise, Alexia suddenly pulled away from the kiss and she ripped her hands away from your body, planting them instead on the door to hold her weight. And you had never hated distance more than the mere centimetres that separated your bodies just then.

Alexia looked down at you with lidded eyes, pupils blown so wide that the hazel in them were covered in black, while her breath came out stuttered.

“Wait–I’m sorry, I know we’re taking it slow but I just missed you so much and I–” 

You let out a sound that was between a moan and a groan as you pulled the collar of her hoodie down, swallowing her next words in a deep kiss. Your hand crept under the fabric of her hoodie, her stomach deliciously taught beneath your fingers and you didn’t fight the urge to drag your nails over her smooth skin to make your intentions clear–an action that made her swear against your lips. You took her lower lip between your teeth and pulled slightly, the sound she made–obscene in every sense of the word–and the curse she let out sent scorching heat straight to your core; nothing turned you on more than the proof of Alexia’s ever-present composure slipping. 

It mattered not how the both of you arrived at the bed; one second you were pressed up against the door, the next you were surrounded by soft sheets with Alexia on top of you, nipping and licking along the column of your neck, while the room filled with pants and gasps that came from either of you. She pressed her knee against the juncture of your thighs and the pressure made you keen Alexia’s name in a wanton cry, which Alexia responded to with an approving hum that you felt on your lips. 

Her teasing continued on until the fabric of your underwear clung to you like a second skin from the slickness of your core but when you felt her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, you surged up and gently pushed Alexia to the side, laying her down on the bed with a deep kiss while you moved to straddle her stomach. 

Then you leant back after a moment to look at her, and the sight you beheld took the breath from you. 

There, she lied: with her light brown hair fanned out wildly on the sheets, a stark contrast against the lightness of the linen; her skin glowed from the incandescent light from her lamp; her hazel eyes beautifully dark and lidded with need; her cheeks graced with a rosy tint of the same shade as her supple lips which were slightly parted; the strong column of her neck, her broad shoulders, her large but gentle hands… there, while she lied and gazed at you, you basked in the radiance of her earthly beauty–her character even more resplendent in nature. And there, your chest crowded with emotions–lust, desire, wonder, amity–but a resonant call from your heart encompassed the immensity of this singular truth. 

You loved Alexia. 

Oh, how you loved her so. 

With reverent hands and eyes that bore the zeal of your affection, you kept your gaze on hers while you dragged your fingers over her clothed ribs down to the firmness of her stomach, admiring the way the strength in them yielded into a softness so inherently familiar, adoring the way her lips parted further, the way her brows rose ever so slightly as the depth in her eyes seemed to stretch into a vastness that called to you. 

She was beautiful. 

So, so beautiful.

All of her exalted you to no end: the sound that she made when you kissed the valley between her breasts after you’d helped her undress; the feel of her skin on your tongue, from her collarbone, to her rib, to her hip, and her thigh; the taste–finally, again–of her need, her pleasure, and her ecstasy. Everything that she was revived you; she stoked the embers of your mortal flame into a star that shone for her, and only her. Every breath, every word, every look… these were the things that–in their divine simplicity–endeared her even more to you; the divine simplicity of her state of being was more than enough to move you, to make you fall deeper into your love for her.

As she came undone beneath your touch, the echoes of your heart longed to be heard, filling your throat with the words of a confession. But instead you whispered, in a cadence similar to that of a litany, that she was beautiful. 

Soon after she came back to herself, she sat up and in a second, Alexia had you in her tender and appraising arms as you remained on her bare lap, kissing along your jaw as her large hands roamed over your still clothed body, her touch both gentle and fervid. But when she grazed the hem of your shirt again, you stilled.

Alexia pulled away, eyes lidded but concern reflected brighter in the darkness of her eyes.

“What is it, darling?” She asked as she brushed a strand behind your ear, gaze intent, searching your countenance for an answer.

Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest. You opened your mouth a few times as you tried to find the right words to say, and then finally, you admitted quietly, “My body… it–I’m not like how you remembered.”

“Darling, your body will always be beautiful. You don’t need to hide yourself from me.” Alexia took one of your hands and pressed a kiss on your knuckles, earnest in the way she spoke and looked at you. Your heart ached.

“I know, it’s just… I don’t think I’m ready,” you trailed off, “And I’m worried you’re not, too.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Alexia squeezed your hand, encouraging.“I’m ready when you are.”

Unbidden, the image of Alexia in anguish after you told her about what you went through flashed through your mind and the same vulnerability–that thinly veiled fear–you’d seen then, you could see now reflected in her eyes. It was one thing to hear the words of injury, and it was another to see the physical proof of it; if the words had profoundly affected her so, how much more would bearing witness to the tangible mark of your narrow escape from death would cause her?

“Alexia…” 

You began to sigh, ready to offer a rejection, but Alexia cupped your cheeks into her palms, making you look into her eyes. Then she whispered, “Please, let me see you. I want to… I want you.”

There was much desire and tenderness in her voice, and you found yourself calming down knowing that you could trust Alexia with this. So you nodded. 

Alexia smiled at you softly before she whispered, “Thank you. Just let me know when you want to stop.”

You nodded again and then, Alexia’s lips were back on yours, sweet and light as her hands returned to your waist. She was gentle, murmuring words of reassurance on your temple, your jaw, your collarbone, as she eased your cardigan off your shoulders. She placed one light kiss on the column of your neck before she laid you down on the sheets, her hair cascading over you like a silk curtain. 

Alexia journeyed down your body, placing butterfly kisses over your clothed sternum, her breath breaching the thin barrier between your skin and heated your blood into a gentle simmer. Then she stopped, her lips on your stomach, and when you looked down at your body she was gazing up at you with imploring eyes, fingers playing at the button of your jeans, a question clear in her eyes. 

Your lips parted at the sight of Alexia’s lips made red from kissing, her blown pupils dark with ardour, her brows tilted up in silent affection. Your heart, for all of its beating, was tranquil under the weight of Alexia’s hands and eyes, and so, you nodded.

Alexia gave you a smile and then she kissed your navel as her fingers unbuttoned your jeans, taking it off slowly. Then her hands skimmed over the newly exposed skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps and heat in their wake, and you gasped when you felt her lips ghosting above your core over the fabric of your underwear. You anticipated more, canting your hips upwards, but Alexia had already moved away by then, a gentle squeeze on your thigh, you perceived, was her form of apology. 

And then her fingers were drawing circles on the exposed skin of your navel, just below the hem of your shirt, as she bent down, capturing your lips in hers, before she rested her forehead against yours.

“Are you ready? Just say the word and I’ll stop.” Alexia whispered on your lips.

You inched away so you could cup Alexia’s face in your palm, grazing your thumb over her cheek, as you replied with absolute certainty. “I’m ready. I trust you, Alexia.” 

She caught your hand in hers as you began to take it back, pressing her cheek into your palm as she said, “Thank you.”

Slowly, Alexia began to take your shirt off and, once it was tossed aside, you waited with bated breath for her reaction upon seeing your scars. Would she turn away just as you tended to do sometimes whenever you saw yourself in the mirror? Would she touch you still–would you sicken her? You probably would, wouldn’t you? You–

A choking sound tore you away from your spiralling thoughts, your vision focusing on Alexia’s face contorting. A part of you screamed, ‘Look how you’ve appalled her!’, but clarity came over you and you recognised then that it was pain that marred her face. Alexia’s lips quivered as she took you in, eyes drifting around the more prominent scars on the right side of your torso–one on the top of your shoulder, on the skin just below your ribcage, and finally, the one just beside your breast–and her brows creased, and when she met your gaze, her eyes had reddened and now held in them, along with the desire–albeit now dimmer from the intensity of the other emotions on her face–a mixture of relief, regret, and agony. 

Then she gathered you in her arms as she leant down, her arms wounding their way around your ribs, her nose brushing against your collarbone, her fingers delicate in the way they splayed on the skin of your shoulder blades, while the strength of her body draped over you and the softness of her breasts–her warmth–offered, even without words, shelter and healing. And you basked in it, arching your back to further feel the press of Alexia’s body, wrapping your arms around her neck and in response, Alexia’s hold on you tightened as she whispered your name in a tone fit for a rhapsody.

Alexia lifted her head and looked into your eyes. You wiped the trail of a tear that ran down her cheek, tucked a loose hair behind her ear, traced the line of her brow, and then the bow of her lips which trembled at your touch.

“You’re here and you’re mine.” She stated softly although the intonation in the end made her sound unsure, as if she didn’t–or couldn’t–believe that the both of you were there together, skin on skin, flesh against flesh, breathing the same air in the same moment in time; alive. 

“I’m with you and I’m yours, Alexia.” You whispered with conviction. “Take me.” 

As you said this, you reached behind you to grab one of her hands so you could kiss her knuckles, watching her as she watched you, before you took her first two fingers into your mouth. You relished the way her lips parted with a gasp while you guided her fingers down to your core, pushing the fabric of your soaked underwear aside so you could press Alexia’s wet fingers against you, sighing when you finally felt her there while Alexia moaned out her desire.

And so, she took you. With one last fervid kiss on your lips that took your breath away, Alexia ventured downwards, brushing her thumb over your clit as she did, while she nipped on the expanse of skin you offered her. And then her lips were on you and you were lost–and found again.

She moved with an air of divinity; with each touch from her supple lips, you felt as though you were closer to grace; and with each swipe of her tongue and thrust of her fingers, you could feel a warm radiance washing over you, simultaneously stripping the strength away from your bones and restoring you to a wholeness you never knew you could feel.

You gathered enough strength to open your eyes to peer down your body and when you did, the sight that greeted you nearly pushed you over the edge. There between your legs, Alexia was looking at you with lidded eyes as she worked on you, catching a glimpse of her tongue every now and then, and the sheen of wetness on her lips and chin. And her eyes… Oh, her eyes had the power to unravel you with one look.

The need to feel her close rose in you as you felt your peak creeping closer. You had meant to say, ‘Come here’, but the words were lost on the way to your mouth and what came out was Alexia’s name. But Alexia understood enough it seemed for she–without so much as losing the pace of her fingers–moved up your body and kissed you, your wetness fresh on her lips and chin, your taste heavy on her tongue.

She kissed your cheek, then your temple, and then you felt her warm breath on your ear. Then she whispered low and dark as sin, “You look so beautiful like this… feel so good. Love the way you’re so wet for me.”

“Ale… Alexia…” You moaned at her words, dragging your nails over her back as you found yourself losing purchase; the edge of euphoria, you could feel, only just a breath away. 

“That’s it. Come for me, darling. Let me feel you come.”

The heat of it all–Alexia’s words and the warmth of her breath, that hot friction from her fingers, and her safe, sheltering weight on you–finally lit the fuse and ecstasy set every nerve in your body afire, and a sense of fullness filled your chest–a state of grace–that called to the woman before you. 

And so, you didn’t stop the words. 

You sighed against her ear, “I love you.” 

Alexia tensed but she didn’t stop until you’d finished, until your cheek was pressed against the sheets, eyes closed from the sheer pleasure that she blessed you with. When she dragged out her fingers from you, you whimpered.

And then you felt her palm on your temple, wiped the sweat away there, before she eased your head away from the pillow as she whispered your name. You opened your eyes to her doting countenance, her brows graced by a hopeful tilt.

“Do you mean it? Truly?” Alexia asked softly.

You felt no fear when you replied in the same soft cadence. “I do.” 

Her breath stuttered, her next words were so light you barely caught them. “Say it again. Please.”

You smoothed her hair, traced the tail of her brow, before you looked deeply into her eyes.

“I love you, Alexia.” 

Her face broke into a small, reverent smile that bore all the warmth in the world before she caught your lips in a kiss so tender you nearly cried.

Then you parted, but Alexia’s forehead remained against yours.

And with tears in her eyes, she whispered. 

“I love you, too.”

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: #to the anon/s in my inbox who’s been so sweet–thank you for your kind messages and words of motivation #i very much appreciate you and im sorry for my lateness but i hope that this makes up for it. #happy holidays everyone and take care of yourselves #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

[qqueenofhades]

Good Omens Season 2: Some Thoughts (and also Screaming)

First, /screams

Second, obligatory disclaimer that this meta contains MAJOR SPOILERS for all six episodes. If you somehow have managed to remain virginally unspoiled, look away now, scroll past, or add "good omens s2" and "good omens spoilers" to your block list, as those are the tags I have been using for all posts and reblogs.

Third, /screams more

Okay okay okay. Deep breaths.

Anyway, so, uh, how about all that, huh? First, the good thing about the tone of the season overall was that it felt considerably darker and more adult, in a good way. We didn't have the precocious kiddies, the kitsch and literally-comphet Anathema and Newt, the so-clever narration, etc. All that was gone, which makes sense when you consider that a) the end of last season saw them reboot into an entirely new universe, and b) the fact that God has gone silent is, in fact, a major plot point for the season. We don't have Her slyly telling us the story, or indeed anything, and everyone is left to make their own judgments and take their own actions. Which, obviously, gets them into a lot of trouble, especially when Metatron (the Voice of God, aka someone acting in the belief that they're speaking for God and therefore doing terrible harm) swoops in with the ultimate buzzkill at the end of episode 6. But we'll get to that.

The downside was that the main, present-day plot (hiding Gabriel in the bookshop and trying to get Nina and Maggie to fall in love) was fairly thin, felt stretched out and at times weirdly paced, and otherwise existed mostly to get us to That Ending and the setup for season 3. But the ending was so damn good (if obviously, very painful) that I can't be TOO mad, not least because we spent six episodes with them just making absolutely no pretense about the whole thing being as incredibly homosexual as possible. I'll be honest: I did not think they were going to actually, explicitly go there. Neil Gaiman has been so consistent about "your interpretations are valid and you're welcome to read it however you want, but the only canon is what's on screen," which I think is frankly a good thing (not least since the Neil GAYman Cinematic Universe is consistently very, very good to us queers), that I just... didn't quite think they'd pull the trigger. Sir Terry is dead and can't have active input, this is based on a book published 30 years ago, maybe they didn't want to make it LIKE THAT... etc. I certainly hoped, but I didn't really think they would.

Uh. Well.

As I said in my various semi-coherent liveblog posts, I honestly don't think there was a single straight person in the entire season, among both major and background characters. Aziraphale/Crowley and Maggie/Nina are the obvious paralleling couples, but Beelzebub (using "they" pronouns and addressed as "Lord" despite presenting as femme/femme-adjacent) is clearly nonbinary and therefore also queer, and the countless gay/queer side characters were just /chefs kiss. From Job's son making a sassy pass at Aziraphale, to the random Scottish goon with Grindr on his phone (which he then gives to Aziraphale, because what is subtlety), to the interracial couple with the trans spouse at the Pride and Prejudice ball, there was just a lot of casual, unremarked, non-story-critical queer representation visible at every turn. It's like the NGCU saw the bigots wailing about Sandman season 1 being extremely gay and went CHALLENGE ACCEPTED, LET'S MAKE GOOD OMENS 2 EVEN MORE GAY.

God bless.

Obviously, Jon Hamm as Amnesia!Gabriel stole the show (he was SO fucking funny) and it was also incredibly fun to watch Miranda Richardson repurposed as a scheming demon. Nina Sosanya also reappeared as Nina the coffee shop owner, which leads us into the Maggie-and-Nina subplot. They're obviously, wildly, incredibly clearly an analogue for Aziraphale and Crowley themselves, but they're also each, crucially, a mix of both. On the surface, Maggie is Aziraphale: the plump, blonde, earnest, sweet-natured one owning a slightly dated book music shop and somewhat clueless about emotional nuances, while Nina is (also on the surface) Crowley, the hard-edged dark loner who doesn't want to open herself up to people or be spotted caring. But emotionally, Maggie is Crowley: the one openly pining, clearly besotted, only wanting to hang around their crush and do whatever they can to make themselves useful, while Nina is Aziraphale. Interested but reticent, attracted but conflicted, trapped in an abusive relationship with a demanding offscreen "lover" (Lindsay/Heaven) who tries to constantly control and shame them without ever offering much, if anything in return. By the end, they bring themselves around to what Maggie/Crowley are offering, but by then, well. We've got a lot more problems on our hands.

As I also said in my earlier posts, this entire thing has always been a metaphor for religion, queerness, and what religion -- especially abusive, fundamentalist, organized religion -- does to queer people, but they really cranked the FUCK out of that metaphor this season. Aziraphale is guilt-tripped, controlled, and shamed for his attraction to Crowley at every turn. He is torn between his imagined duty to Heaven, in all its ignorant, uncaring, bureaucratic, gratuitously cruel system that he still insists on seeing the best in because he can't bear the alternative, and the chaotic and sometimes grey but genuinely more good morality that Crowley offers him. (Can I just say, we were explicitly shown that the two of them together doing "just a little miracle" are more powerful than Heaven AND Hell combined.) And at the end, he's told that the only way he can be with Crowley -- what Metatron explicitly blackmails him with -- is if they both go back to heaven, submit themselves to the cruel system again and give up everything that has made them who they are: their home in London, their human friends, their reliance on each other, their independence, their own ways of doing things. You can be queer in this (religious) framework, but only the limited, watered-down, controlled, controllable, constantly-under-supervision kind of queer, which relies on both you and your lover "converting" back to the true faith. And if you don't cooperate, they will literally kidnap you, lie to you, manipulate you, take you from your soulmate, and force you right back into doing the one thing (destroying the world) that you never, ever wanted to do in the first place, because in their minds, that is still better than this. It's for your own good.

Ouch.

And the thing is: that's why the ending a) hits so hard and b) is so fucking painful, because of course Aziraphale agrees. He has no conception of being able to defy Heaven on his own; he has always, always needed Crowley for that. In the flashbacks, when Aziraphale is faced with an order from Heaven that he desperately does not want to carry out (such as letting all Job's children get killed), he still relies completely on Crowley to "outsmart the rules" and find a better way. Crowley is A Crafty Demon; that's what he does, and so Aziraphale rationalizes it to himself that therefore that must be fine. Even in season 1, when he really didn't want the Apocalypse to happen but initially thought it was his duty as a good Heaven footsoldier, he relied on Crowley to talk him out of it and allow him to do what he really wants instead. That's their whole dynamic in a nutshell, as exemplified in that scene in episode 2, where Crowley tempts Aziraphale with the "pleasures of the flesh" while sprawled on his back in Ravish Me mode like the giant walking gay disaster that he is. (Sorry, buddy. That beard. Can't do it.) Everything that Aziraphale's existence is, that makes him who he is, that he loves and cherishes the most (in this case, food and wine) comes from Crowley. Everything else is just background noise.

Throughout the season, what we see is Aziraphale increasingly coming around to the fantasy of being with Crowley. He's coy and flirty; he talks about "our car" and expects Crowley will let him (which he does); he wants to have a Jane Austen ball and for them to dance together (oh my heart); he even thinks, at the crucial moment, that the best way for them to be together is to go back to heaven just like they were in the beginning, once more perfect angels, as if those entire six thousand years of struggle and grief and pining and separation and falling didn't happen. And Crowley -- poor, poor, brave, devoted, heartbroken Crowley -- has just heard for the first time in said six thousand years that actually telling the person you love how you feel is an option. Maggie and Nina tell them point-blank that their whole stupid plan failed because people aren't chess pieces who can be moved and automatically achieve the desired result. And of course this gobsmacks the dearest and dumbest Ineffable Husbands, because they can't conceive of anything else. People are chess pieces in the Great War of Heaven and Hell; Aziraphale and Crowley themselves are chess pieces who have been desperately trying to get out of being moved by external forces, but that doesn't change the fact that that's what they are. They don't have volition or agency aside from that which they can sneak for themselves in brief and stolen moments. That's it.

Until, well. It's not it. They discover that this whole would-be war is actually an elaborate ruse to cover up another angel-demon romance, that of Gabriel and Beelzebub. (I'll be honest, I'm 99% sure they did this storyline because they saw the fans crackshipping them, but I appreciate a fictional narrative that values and incorporates its fans' input, rather than trying to constantly "trick" or "outsmart" them or "do what they don't expect.") And Gabriel and Beelzebub get to be together, but only by leaving their world forever. They have to desert their homes, their structures, even their own identities, and never return. And Crowley and Aziraphale are so rooted in their "precious, perfect, fragile" life in their little corner of Soho, with their bookshop and their Bentley and their dining at the Ritz (which they didn't get to do in the end because METATRON /shakes fist), that that just doesn't work. Neither of them can conceive of doing that. So Aziraphale thinks "go back to heaven and try to make the terrible system do some good and take what we can in terms of being together" and Crowley just... pours out his heart. He's ready to fucking propose. He barely stops himself from saying something to the effect of "I want to spend eternity with you." He begs, he pleads with Aziraphale to go away not in the literal sense, but the emotional/metaphysical: to finally break this toxic dependence on Heaven and tell them once and for all where to stick it. And because he is desperate to make Aziraphale understand, he finally throws all caution to the winds and recklessly, desperately, adoringly kisses him, the one thing he's wanted to do for ages and...

Gets. Shot. Down.

Ugghhhhh. I'm suffering all over again. Aziraphale wants him, hungers for it, for them, and yet he's been so abused and so conditioned by Heaven (he's still blithely repeating to Crowley's face that "Hell are the bad guys!") that he just cannot accept that kind of desperate, blind, limitless, lawless affection. He even forgives Crowley for this "transgression," just to really twist the knife, and Crowley just can't take it, can't face up to how terribly this has all gone up in flames, after he went to heaven trying to find the answer for Gabriel's situation. Gabriel, who he fucking hates. Gabriel, who tried to kill the angelic being he loves (and for which Crowley has transparently never forgiven him). And yet at one pouty puppy-eyed look from Aziraphale and a warning that whoever is harboring Gabriel might be in danger, Crowley leaps headlong into the Bentley again and rushes to the rescue while "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy" is blaring. He stoutly protects Gabriel; he does a miracle to disguise him; he lets him have hot chocolate and stay in the bookshop; he guards him from the literal demonic horde outside. All because of Aziraphale. That's it. And then, it still doesn't work. Not only that, Gabriel's absence and decision to forego Armageddon gives Heaven the one tool they finally need to take Aziraphale away from him.

I repeat: Ugghhhhhhhh.

(In a good way. Ngl, I love this angst. This is the kind of angst my brain Thrives on, the Thematic Parallel Romantic Character Arc kind. Nom nom nom. But also: AGONY.)

I also need to talk about Aziraphale driving the Bentley, aside from the obvious metaphor of him being in Crowley's home while Crowley is in his. Last season, we had the "you go too fast for me, Crowley" scene with them sitting in said Bentley, which was Aziraphale saying he's not ready for a relationship. In this season, as noted above, we see Aziraphale increasingly embracing the potential fantasy of being with Crowley. But here's the catch: when he's in the Bentley this time, driving it, setting the pace, acclimating to the idea, he's driving his own idea of what the Bentley/his relationship with Crowley is. It's not the real thing. He plays classical music; he supplies himself sweets; he turns it yellow; he drives too slow. Crowley calls him in another old-married-couple snitfit to complain that Aziraphale's messed it up, but what Aziraphale has actually messed up (or will, by the end of the season) is far more consequential than just a car. He's changed the entire shape of their relationship to the one he thinks can make it work, and it just doesn't. It has to be them -- "we could have been... Us" -- or it's not even close to the truth. It's not worth their time.

I repeat: Ouch.

Speaking of the writers validating fan theories, I know we all picked up and screamed about on Crowley's idea of Peak Romance Guaranteed To Fall In Love being sheltering from rain and gazing into each other's eyes, which confirms that that poor bastard was indeed ass-over-teakettle gone as soon as he met Aziraphale (again) in Eden. I also need to talk about the 1941 redux, because wow. This time, the danger comes from Hell, which we see being its usual self: gleefully, pointlessly cruel, pettily backbiting, dirty, sniping, tedious, endless, determined to mindlessly destroy because They're The Bad Guys and they like it. So they blackmail, spy on, miracle-block, illicitly photograph, and try to prove that Aziraphale and Crowley are secretly a couple, right after Aziraphale himself has just had the Light From Heaven realization that he's in love (which we all also picked up on in s1). They're forcibly outing them (to speak of more Religious Queer Trauma) in order to break them up/get them into trouble with their authorities/families. Aziraphale and Crowley manage to escape it mostly by dumb luck, but Crowley having an altogether freakout, hands shaking, barely able to actually point the gun at Aziraphale even in the knowledge that it's supposed to be fake, is just... wow. He can't even fathom the idea of ever trying to destroy him in earnest, especially when he knows on some level that Aziraphale also finally just realized his own feelings. So I just need to --

/screams

Anyway, Aziraphale's entire arc this season is doing what he thinks is the right thing and then inadvertently causing harm and damage as a result. In the Edinburgh flashbacks (live slug reaction of me: SEAN BIGGERSTAFF???!!) he tries to stop Elspeth from stealing bodies and gets Morag killed and Crowley drinking the laudanum to save him (though that part with David Tennant just riffing left and right, using his natural Scottish accent, and being Tiny Crowley/Huge Crowley was hilarious). He invites his neighbors to a Pride and Prejudice ball and makes them all the target for demonic attack. And of course the Job episode: Aziraphale, horrified at Heaven's callous cruelty, desperate not to get Job's children killed, willing to go along with Crowley's tricks to save them somehow, tempted by Crowley to do the fucknasty with their angel bits eat some food and decide that he likes it. As mentioned, the whole thing about God being silent this season is a major thematic choice. The only time we see/hear God is Her communing with Job from afar. Aziraphale enviously imagines the answers he must be getting (he's not, he's baffled and perplexed), while Crowley longs beyond words to even have the opportunity to ask the question: why? Why do this? Why is this your plan?

And of course, this absence culminates in the Metatron, the Voice of God, the person arrogantly claiming that they're speaking for God and know exactly what Heaven wants, being able to seize Aziraphale by the short hairs and absolutely fuck him over. Gabriel is gone/decommissioned/eloping with Beelzebub, so Heaven needs a Supreme Leader (God apparently is no longer a factor in the equation). And what this Supreme Leader needs to do is finally unleash the Apocalypse that Gabriel decided to pass on (the Second Coming). Aziraphale needs to be punished, taken away from Crowley's influence/love, and put back under Heaven's explicit control, so Metatron spots a great opportunity to do all three at once. It's not an accident that the exact tool he uses to get Aziraphale to agree is "now you can actually be with Crowley!" Aziraphale and Crowley have been trying so hard to hide out from their respective Head Offices, but now all at once, there's this seemingly miraculous opportunity for them not to have to do that anymore! They can be together! They can be sanctioned by Heaven! They can give up all this hiding and sneaking around and lying! Isn't that better?

... As long as, of course, they give up absolutely everything that makes them who they are. No big deal. Minor catch. Probably nothing.

Metatron doesn't let Aziraphale have time to escape, or think it over, or reflect, or anything. He pressures Aziraphale to come with him immediately, or be once more subject to Heaven's implicit wrath/destruction/judgment. Believe me, Aziraphale already KNOWS he's made a huge mistake, as soon as he hears what Metatron really wants: bringing him back to unleash the Apocalypse that Aziraphale and Crowley have given up literally everything to prevent. He doesn't need time to reflect. By the time my man is in that elevator, he's well aware of what a catastrophic misjudgment he's made, and yet --

Aziraphale needs this. He has, as noted, literally always relied on Crowley outsmarting Heaven's cruel orders in order to prevent himself from having to do them. He's relied on Crowley rescuing him ("rescuing me makes him so happy," WELL BUB, IT'S BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS NEED IT). He admits to Crowley's face that "I need you!" He hates Heaven's sadistic meanness, but he has absolutely no framework, in and of himself, to defy it. When the rubber hits the road, he will crumple and try to go along with it, and now he's been put in a position where he's going to have to stand up, defy Heaven, and make the break once and for all BY HIMSELF. He doesn't have Crowley around to do it for him, he has no support, he is going to arrive in Heaven and be shuttled straight off to the Apocalypse 2.0 War Room. The only way he gets out of this is if he actively stands up, if he chooses himself and Crowley and their life, and he has to.

The thing is:

Aziraphale has lived his entire eternal existence Looking Up. Up is the direction of Goodness and Heaven. Up is where Angels go. Up is where Aziraphale comes from and where Demons and Hell are not. But now he's going Up, in a position to take over the whole shebang, and it's the last thing he wants.

So he's going to have to come back Down.

He's going to have to Fall. He's going to have to get back Below at all costs. He's going to have to finally, once and for all, understand what led Crowley to make the choice to leave Heaven and never come back. It's only then that they can possibly be together on any kind of conscious, equal, deliberate footing, claim their own agency, reject Heaven AND Hell, and try to really earn that South Downs cottage and that happy-ever-after, and it's gonna hurt so good.

Now if you will excuse me, /screams

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens s2 #good omens spoilers #ineffable husbands #look this probably could have been twice as long #but i had to stop somewhere #I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS

[neo-percs]

PRAISING:: ( day 3 )

WARNING:: praise, marking, unprotected sex, slightly insecure reader, unprotected sex, fwb! Relationship to lovers, reassurance, fluff, slight angst and mentions of anxiety.

SUMMARY:: after sleeping with Jungkook for months and not putting a label on it you grow envious of your friends who brag about their dating lives.

WORD COUNT:: 1.9K

You were upset, not at your friends for having prevailed relationships and cute stories to tell about them. Your upset at yourself for feeling this way, a bittersweet taste in your mouth as you and almost the entire pack of your friend group had all managed to fit inside your cramped living room in your apartment listening to Mingyu gush about how he had taken the girl he had been on a few dates before and finally asked to make it official.

You were almost green with envy, as a small pressure in your chest grew watching your friend throw his signature smile as he swipes through pictures he had taken of him and his girlfriend on their successful date. You felt stupid, you had no idea why you had ever pitched the idea of a friends with benefits relationship with Jungkook when you knew that you were looking for so much more than sex.

Who knew months down the line what you used to call attraction towards him grew, it felt like he had planted a seed in your heart and it was growing each and every time the both of you had spent an inkling amount of time together. But as the thoughts of doubt began to sprout and spread it felt like the flower that had blossomed inside your heart was slowly wilting away at the thought of him not wanting anything more than sex from you.

You are a full fledged adult, you could speak your mind how you pleased but anxiety had you in such a tight chokehold you could barely feel yourself breathing. You were so out of it that you had realized that time had ticked past and within the next hour of boisterous laughter and stupid jokes everyone seemed to spill out of your apartment all at once leaving behind you and Jungkook who lingered behind cleaning up the small mess that you and him had both made on the coffee table.

Once settling next to you his hand settles on your thigh comfortably, giving a small nudge it knocks you right out of your thoughts. "Are you okay? You seem really out of it" he asks as he grows concerned with how you've been staring into space like you had just found a secret portal burned into the wallpaper of your walls. You shake your head giving a tight lipped smile hoping that would be enough to send him off with no more questions asked. "I'm fine, just a little tired" you lie through your teeth.

"Are you sure? You seem like you have something important on your mind. The last time I saw you think this hard I thought I smelt burning wood" he jokes making you scoff as you push him gently with a grin on your lips. "I'm fine, just wanna lay in my bed and sleep. Nothings going on up there, it's like a desert right now. Completely empty" you point to your head letting your hand fall back in your lap like dead weight.

"Alright, let's get you settled then" he says with a grunt pushing himself up from the comfortable crushed velvet cushions attached to your couch. Holding out a hand to you, your eyes flicker from his face to his hand as if you're almost skeptical to take it, but regardless let him pull you up from the couch. You both move around each other as if this was a normal routine— and yet at this point in time it most likely is how you end your nights.

Changing clothes into pajamas, and brushing your teeth together like any regular couple except you weren't even labeled as such. The thoughts come rushing back as you finally lay down under the warm sheets on your bed. You sigh as you turn on your TV flicking mindlessly through channels hoping to find something remotely entertaining to keep you away from your thoughts and thinking your feelings will subside until the morning. Until you feel the bed beside you dip and from the corner of your eyes you could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

"Can I help you?" You ask cutting the silence between you both "are you going to keep acting like nothings wrong or do you want to spit it out?" He asks seriously in a tone you almost never hear from him. Your tongue pokes at your cheek as you weigh the pros and cons of what the possibilities would be if you told him how you felt. And although the cons outweigh the pros you open your mouth to speak as you get fed up with yourself.

"What are we?" You ask finally and although the weight on your back had been yet to be lifted. "I don't really know, we've never talked about it" he says with a sudden softness to his voice "we have sex, we cuddle, we have sleepovers almost every night, I'm pretty sure half of my clothes are at your place, and we kiss each other goodbye. Things that friends with benefits don't do" you babble mindlessly.

Turning onto your side you turn to look over at his expression only seeing a thoughtful one. "We can be whatever you want us to be— if there is an us" he says as his eyes flicker from his lap to your face, almost nervous at your response. You feel like you could melt into the sheets of your bed and evaporate into thin air. Sucking in a shaky breath you answer "I want us to be official, I'm tired of feeling like you like the aspect of a built in girlfriend, but not the idea of it being me and you" you sigh finally letting the words that had been scratching at the back of your throat for the past 2 months.

His hands suddenly cup your cheeks warming your face up almost immediately he leans in pressing a soft kiss to your lips, chaste yet it got his point across without having to speak. You're finally releasing what felt like a million caged butterflies loose in your stomach. "Will you? Be my girlfriend I mean" he says, correcting himself almost immediately. You let out a small puff of laughter against his lips as you nod as your eyes flutter shut content with the feeling of your forehead pressed against his.

Pecking your lips repeatedly until you reciprocate more desperately, your lips press against his eagerly as they lock. The moment your lips meet more harshly, has been a long time coming, an eruption of your lust. His lips are warm and gentle as he kisses you softly, delicately, as if he isn't sure you're real and he's still checking.

His hand finds their way to your hips pressing down into the sheets not daring to break from the kiss. Soon enough everything becomes blurred into one, your clothes being stripped and discarded to the floor of your bedroom floor Jungkook leaves behind opened mouth kisses against your neck sucking and biting marks onto your supple skin as his hands wonder between your legs. "I've been thinking of this for a while now" he mumbled as he continued to kiss up to your neck and latch his lips with yours.

Letting out a shrill gasp you feel his fingers press against your clit rendering you eager for more, his fingers work to move in figure eights, letting out small moans and whimpers "you're so wet" he whispers against your lips "feels so good against my fingers" he continues his words of praise leaving you clenching around nothing as you whine. "I need you so bad" you whimper, wanting to skip foreplay entirely— not that he opposed either.

"It's okay, I got you" he nods as his legs settle between your thighs Watching the tip of his cock rub up and down your slit as your hips twitch in sensitivity. His cock glistening from a mixture of precum and your slick he presses the head of his cock at your entrance slowly pushing inside you enjoying the warm and tight feeling inside you.

His hands move to either side of your head as he looks down on you with complete adoration in his eyes. Pushing deeper inside you he lets out a moan "fuck you feel so good" he says as he catches his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"You're so big" you slur seeing how good he filled you up to the brim your arms wrap around his neck your foreheads pressed together as you watch his begin to slowly move. Jungkook couldn't get enough of the sight as his cock disappeared inside your Pussy.

His cock buried deep inside you that you moan and dig crescent shaped dents into his skin. set a pace for bouncing in his lap. The feeling of your velvety walls tightening around making him choke back a moan.

"Oh- god" you whisper shakily. His hands holding onto your hips guiding a pace, the soft sound of skin slapping with your small moans could be heard throughout the room.

You looked so good with your chest bouncing and your hair all messy. You looked good with a small sheen of sweat on your skin and your makeup smeared, he was addicted to the sight.

Jungkook; eager to let his load off inside you, holds your thighs, stopping you from bouncing any longer and begins to thrust his hips into you. The feeling of his tip pushing at your cervix.

His hips piston into you as your thighs and ass jiggle at the repetitive thrusts "right there!" You moan as you feel him pounding in a certain part of your walls. You tighten around him as your essence forms a white ring around the base of his dick.

"Just like that! I just want you to come inside me" you babble mindlessly as his stomach churns at the words spewing out.

"Yeah? Want me to fill you up with my cum?" he groans as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten and Jungkook's death grip on the fat of your thighs almost sends you over the edge if it wasn't for how hard he was pounding you.

You nod eagerly as you begin to alternate between grinding and bouncing, your nails drag against his back leaving behind a red and irritated trail- yet he didn't mind it as it pushed him closer to his orgasm.

Leaning down to him your moans against each other's lips push you closer and closer. Your back is arching as you move faster wanting to cum so badly "keep going. Don't stop" he groaned, letting his head fall back.

His hair messily pushed against his forehead as it was covered in sweat and his eyes rolled back "god I'm gonna cum" he says breathily "I want you to look at me when you cum okay?" Says opening his eyes looking up at you.

You nod as you let your moans fall past your lips, the sensation building more and more until it became to overwhelming you gasp "I'm gonna cum" you whine as your hips fall more hastily on him, his moans mixed with yours as he drowned in the feeling of your walls spasming around him pushing him completely over the edge.

"Fuck" he groaned as warm spurts of cum filled you, grinding down and letting the cum spill past your walls and down the base of his cock you hum as your content with your orgasm. Pulling out he leans over to his side of the bed once more the both of you smiling as you stare at the ceiling. You feel his arm wrap around your waist pulling you closer, kissing the skin on your shoulder you feel comfortable as your breathing slows down.

"You did good. And I want you to know that I don't want anybody else just you" he speaks finally relieving you off all the stress that clouded your mind, nodding off you slip away sleeping with light puffs of air and soft snoring content with your night.

#𖦹—( neo percs ) #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader

[sunkissed-zegras]

38. "stay with me, please? i need you tonight. maybe for the rest of my life, if you're generous."

with jamie!

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 | jd⁹

♡ ─ word count | 1.6k

♡ ─ warnings | hurt/comfort, ANGST!! jamie being an asshole (but it was lowkey justified), mention of his injury/trade :((, thats all!

♡ ─ ev's notes | okay listen i forgot the prompt but the last few paragraphs basically describe what the prompt conveys if that makes sense, i still hope u enjoy it nonnie 😭🩷

Jamie had a pretty hard season, with him moving to Philadelphia unexpectedly and him being injured had really gotten to him. He's spent the last two weeks at home recovering and trying to get better as soon as he could, he wanted to be back on the ice as soon as possible. His injury added another layer of frustration. The pain, both physical and emotional, weighed heavily on him. Hockey had always been his sanctuary, and the forced break on top of the trade felt like the whole universe was against him.

You entered the condo, sighing with exhaustion. The last couple months had been frustrating for you as well, but it didn't even come close to how Jamie was feeling. As you entered the small condo, you heard the shower running and assumed it was Jamie.

You put down everything and began starting on dinner, Jamie probably hadn't eaten anything except breakfast. You were worried for him, more than you could ever express. You'd always had faith in him even in the lowest of the lows but he had never been this low in his entire career. He'd always been a determined person but right now, it really did feel like the odds were stacked up against him.

You wanted to do everything in your power to make him happy again, even if it was for a fleeting moment before the world closing on him again. The smell of a home-cooked meal began to fill the air as you moved around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and preparing a comforting dish.

As you worked, your thoughts lingered on Jamie's struggles - the trade, the injury, and the emotional toll it all took on him. You understood the importance of hockey in his life, how it served as a source of purpose. Tonight, you wanted to provide not just a meal but a reminder that he wasn't alone in this struggle, no matter what happens.

As your timer beeped, indicating that dinner was ready, you set the table, adorned with comforting dishes. The shower turned off, and soon Jamie emerged, his weariness evident in his movements. You gave him a warm smile, opening up your arms for a hug.

"I made your favorite,"

He slumped down to your height and embraced you tightly, sighing. You let him hug you before he slipped away from the embrace, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders as he did. The weariness in his pretty eyes spoke volumes, but so did the gratitude for the effort you put into making the evening a little brighter.

"Thank you," Jamie murmured, his voice a mixture of fatigue and appreciation. He walked over to the table and sat down as you brought waters from the fridge before sitting with him.

"How was your day?" You asked gently as you settled into the seat, glancing up to watch him.

"It was fine." He responded shortly as he began eating the food, avoiding your gaze. You knew he didn't want to come off bitter but it stung, you tried your best to not to take it personal. "You?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," you replied with a light chuckle, trying to maintain a casual tone. "Work had its moments, but nothing too exciting. I did manage to catch up with Maya over the phone today, she said she missed us back in California."

You knew you had messed up as you heard Jamie's fork hit the plate, the sound echoing throughout the apartment. Shit, I shouldn't have mentioned California. You looked up and caught his tired gaze as he sighed.

"I'm sorry," you offered softly, regret lacing your words. "I didn't mean to bring up anything that might upset you. It's just habit to share little updates about people we know, you know?"

Jamie took a deep breath, and you could see the effort it took for him to compose himself. "It's okay," he finally replied, though the strain in his voice betrayed the words. "I just... miss the way things used to be."

His vulnerability hung in the air, and you felt a pang of empathy. The unexpected move to Philadelphia had disrupted not only his career but also the familiar life you both had in California. You reached across the table, gently placing your hand over his. "I miss it too, Jamie. But we'll make new memories here. It just takes time."

He sighed and pulled his hand away from yours, your chest squeezing in hurt. He took the fork and continued to eat, choosing to stay silent. You didn't know why he was being so distant, so cold. You hated it but you couldn't resent him for it, you knew it wasn't his fault. That still didn't mean it didn't hurt, though.

The room seemed to shrink with the silence, the only sound was the clinking of cutlery against the plate. The unspoken tension between you and Jamie hung heavy in the air and despite your attempt to offer comfort, he withdrew further into his thoughts. As he continued to eat in silence, you couldn't shake the ache in your chest. The distance, both physical and emotional, left you feeling like a spectator in Jamie's struggle, unable to bridge the gap that seemed to widen with each passing moment.

You had never had this problem with Jamie before, he communicated everything he felt so that it was easier for the both of you so this was new territory. What had changed? Why was he retreating into this new, silent version of himself? The questions lingered, unanswered, amplifying the sense of helplessness.

With a heavy sigh, you set your fork down, the clatter against the plate echoing the unease in the room. "Jamie," you began tentatively, your voice soft but carrying the weight of your concern. "I hate seeing you like this, I just want to help."

Jamie had finally slammed the fork down, looking up at you with agitated playing on his face. "You can't fucking help me, Y/N. Do you get that, is that simple enough for you? I can't breathe around you without you looking at me and trying to analyze it and help me. You look at me like I'm some kind of burden you need to carry, and I'm sick of it."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the raw emotion behind them stinging more than any physical blow. It was a side of Jamie you hadn't encountered before, and the harshness in his tone took you aback. There was silence as you both stared at each other and you saw the regret slowly seep into Jamie's expression.

You took a moment to collect yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat before finally speaking. "I never meant to make you feel like a burden. I just care about you, and seeing you struggle hurts. I thought we could face it together, like we always have."

He lowered his gaze, a visible conflict playing out in his eyes. The regret painted across his face was palpable, and for a moment, it seemed like he was grappling with the weight of his words. "I know I messed up," Jamie finally admitted, his voice softer now, remorse evident. "It's just... everything feels like too much right now, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, baby."

The pet name rolled off his tongue like honey as he spoke and you could see the old Jamie come back slowly as you gazed at him. You nodded, acknowledging the complexity of the emotions that had fueled his outburst.

"Everything will be easier if you just talk to me, Jamie." You paused, choosing your words carefully. "I want to understand, Jamie. I want to be there for you," you continued, your voice gentle but firm. "We can face whatever it is together. Just talk to me. Please."

He sighed, the conflict in his eyes softening. "I know, Y/N. I just... I'm not used to all of this. The move, the injury, it's like my whole world got turned upside down, and I don't know how to understand it."

You reached across the table, your hand finding his. "We'll figure it out together. You don't have to carry it all on your own. I hate seeing you hurt like this, baby."

He squeezed your hand, the warmth of the gesture was filled with gratitude. "I don't want to push you away, Y/N. I just... I've always been the one who had it all figured out, you know? But this, it's different. It's overwhelming."

"You don't have to have it all figured out, Jamie. We'll navigate through this together. It's okay not to be okay, you don't have to play the part because at the end of the day, you're just human."

He nodded, a mixture of emotions flickering in his eyes. "I'm just scared of losing everything, of losing myself in all of this mess."

The weight of his fears hung in the air, and you leaned in, your thumb gently caressing his hand. "You won't lose yourself, Jamie. I'm here to help you find your way back. We'll take it one step at a time."

For a moment, he hesitated, the weight of vulnerability hanging in the air. Then, slowly, he began to open up. The words spilled out, frustration, fear, and the overwhelming pressure he felt. As he spoke, you listened, offering support.

After the conversation, you laid next to him in the bed, his head laying on your chest. The silence was comfortable as you both began to seep into sleep, enveloped in one another. Your fingers gently traced soothing patterns on his back as you held him close, your presence a reassurance that he wasn't alone ever.

The soft rhythm of his breathing matched the steady beat of your heart, as Jamie shifted slightly, his fingers finding yours in the darkness.

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