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minimallyminnie · 11 months

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Hi! Sorry I haven’t been writing lately! Hopes this makes up for it!

Gn reader, Nightbringer timeframe so you are their attendant, uhhh a bit dark with some of them (Levi, Satan, Twins)

How you show the brothers you care about them even if they don’t remember you.

Lucifer

Though he stays in his room all the time, he does get up to do his daily things outside.

That being said, those days were rare when you could only hear the same album and small hics coming from his room

You remember the album from your time frame, he told you once

You were drinking tea with him and he told you how it was Lilith’s favorite album to play when she was happy

It hurt to see him not go to the table and eat.

So once Beel is out of sight in the kitchen, you go inside, make a plate of dinner and fill up a cup of hot tea for him

You knock twice on the door and set the food down next to the door, covered with foil and sticky note that says

“Lucifer, you should eat more. -[MC]”

You know he’s there when you come back to sweep the hallways and see an empty plate with a cup on top.

You only take the dishes in silent content and wash them in the kitchen.

Happy knowing that Lucifer at least ate.

Lucifer, in his room is working diligently on paperwork. He doesn’t need an…attendant to take care of him.

He’s capable damn it!

He can’t say he’s not capable. His pride doesn’t allow him. To be weak. To ask for help. To apologize.

His pride…has hurt his brothers. Has hurt them so many times. It’s best if he just stays inside and not hurt anyone.

He can’t let them suffer from his problems anymore, that’s how they ended up here.

He hears footsteps outside and is alert instantly, wondering if his brothers need something or if they’re asking for him to eat dinner with them or if they’re complaining about what so ever

But when he hears a gentle clink on the floor outside his room and the footsteps retreating, he knows that it’s you.

Lucifer waits for the footsteps to no longer be heard before he cracks open the door and sees a plate and a glass. He picks them up and locks the door again.

He sees the small sticky note on it and somehow in his cold and closed off heart, his heart warms at the note

He brushes it off before eating and drinking the entire thing, leaving it outside the door where it was previously in a pristine manner.

Now even if you are just an attendant, he won’t try to make your job harder than it is.

Somehow a part of him calls out to him that he just cares about you.

Mammon

His obsession with greed and Grimm has turned up to the max when he got turned into a demon

That being said, since he’s so busy trying to take care of his brothers who are falling apart day by day, he forgets to take a break

Anytime that you tell him, he’ll laugh it off and asks if you think he’s that weak

…you know he’s not weak.

The pain from losing his baby sister, how his brothers are crumbling, Lucifer not coming out of his room, this new home, his new body and wings, his virtue turning to a sin.

A sin that’s going to eventually cause everyone he loves to hate him. He despises his sin of Greed. It’s twisted, it’s malicious, it’s…awful.

Mammon can’t take it anymore but he still endures it for his family.

Just like in your time where he’s being berated left and right. You fall for him all over again.

One day, Mammon forgets to leave his door locked leaving you to come in and sneakily turn off his alarm clock before going back to Cocytus Hall

You do all his tasks for the morning once you get the to the HoL, telling the brothers that he’s just tired today (and he is, not that you’re lying)

When he wakes up and panics, you manage to calm him down explaining how he needed rest and that you’re taking a break. He calms down but then he sees you with a tray of cold tea and…two bowls of spicy ramen?

Hell Soy Sauce Flavored Cup Ramen??

He’s never heard of that before, sorta scary…but you said it was a treat from yourself

He picks up his chopsticks and takes a bite.

It does taste spicy and he chugs the tea while you’re laughing at his expression

But he looks at your smiling face and he thinks about how warm he feels inside, not knowing if it’s the ramen or you

He takes another bite and starts talking with you about how you knew about these noodles

“A close friend of mine shared some with me a few times.” He’s a bit jealous of this “close friend” but he still eats the ramen

Huh. He feels a lot better today than the past few months he’s been in the Devildom….

He thinks he finally has a favorite food now.

Leviathan

When he landed in the Devildom, he didn’t know why he was even there anymore

He was made for war and bloodshed against demons

Now he’s become what he sworn to kill

What…what’s out there for him anymore?

The days where he wakes up and gets out of bed feeling awful as can be are the hardest.

He has to show everyone how awful he feels and looks today.

He hates the stares he gets from his brother when they think he’s not looking for looking like he just rolled out of bed.

He hates his wings, his tail, his personality, how awkward he is, he wants his long and flowing robes back that made him confident like Lucifer was

He knows his younger brothers are suffering even more than him. He knows how much Satan feels like he doesn’t belong in their family. If he were just braver or if Satan was just mellower, he would take care of him like how Mammon did for him. But he’s a coward. He’s jealous of how well Mammon can handle things, how he can adjust so damn fast.

He hates himself

On one of the days you’re adjusting the pictures around the HoL after one of Satan and Belphegor’s fights, you hear a small voice from Levi’s room

Going closer, you hear me him say how he wanted to try this new game out that’s hot on the market but he can’t get the time to. When you peek in to see who’s he talking to, there’s a sheep plushie that you gave to the brothers to share and talk to.

New game….hmm you had extra Grimm right? Mammon didn’t steal any this week either!

You zap your phone out and quickly order the game. It didn’t make a huge dent in your account considering the amount of jobs you’ve taken during the free time you have

The next day, you knock on Levi’s door with an excuse to ask him for help on one of the Ruri Chan levels

When he opens the door, he sees a wrapped item in your hand which you promptly give him

“Consider it a gift for not leaving your tiny figurine accessories around the floor.” And then you walked away

Levi shuts his door and opens the gift nervously

He gapes at the game, how did you know he wanted this game?! Did you hear him??!

Levi will have to thank you tomorrow after he finishes the first part of the game first!

He wonders if he has to go to the doctor later though since his stomach is doing flips left and right…

Satan

It does take a while for Satan to properly put his comfort and trust in you

But it does somehow happen.

He’s lashing out at everyone and everything left and right

But he doesn’t know why it makes him angry.

He hates the looks on his brothers the people he lives with faces

Their faces…it scares him but his own pride refuses to acknowledge the fear

But when he sees your face…you never seem scared or upset at him.

Always…cheerful and somehow nostalgic even though you never met him before Mammon managed to catch you

He tries to push you away, tries to make his pain and internalizes that he’s a monster. A mistake that was only created by accident.

But.

You never stray away.

Shouldn’t an attendant rationalize their situation?!

Even if he lives in the same house, he could kill you more than any of the others!

But anytime he’s actually in his room, you’re always knocking.

You’re patient with him.

You’ve always been patient with him unless he actually does something messed up.

You don’t see him as a monster or Lucifer’s little copy. You see him as him.

His favorite thing of the day when you’re working is just going in his room during your breaks (which he memorized) and waiting for you

You knock and he opens the door. You always wait for him.

“Can I hang out with you for a bit?”

He always nods and lets you in

You end up talking about mundane things, you seem to know or find out things he might actually like!

You’re really smart and scary too but he won’t say that of course

He likes that you understand him. He’s not all that alone in this hellhole.

He just likes talking to you without being judged or interrupted. You don’t do those, you just listen to him.

And really, that’s the most amazing thing that someone can do for him.

…No you’re really the most amazing person that’s done this for him.

Asmodeus

Oh as if you aren’t his gift already!

Jokes aside, he is wary of you

You just dropped in and now you’re their attendant?!

Unbelievable! But of course he’s not going to say that in front of Lucifer and Diavolo!

Good heavens devildom, that would be his death wish!

He frequently looks up at the heavy clouds over the Devildom

He knows the sun never rises but, he wishes just one more time he’d be able to see the perfect sunrise and sunset before he got thrown here

Here where he looks like a freak.

Where he was praised and celebrated for his beautiful pearly white wings and his gorgeous robes. Where he had a damned amazing smile that lit up a room. Where is now gone. Permanently

He cries every-time he looks past a mirror or a reflection of himself

He has ugly ugly pointed horns that twist, hearts that look like they dripped down on his arm, and four short wings that don’t even look have as gorgeous as his old ones did.

He’s almost broken every mirror in the house he’s come by when he has thoughts like these. Mammon asked you while Asmo was crying one day to just make anything that looked remotely shiny, matte. Desperate to stop his younger brother’s tears.

(And you did. He figured out it was you and Mammon later and thanked both of by taking you two out for drinks. He starts to get used to one mirror at a time.)

He hates how his sin causes him to lust after everyone. He hates it. He can’t bear the pain in his heart when he meets someone who just wants to be friendly and he immediately thinks about how to bed them.

He just wants normal thoughts for once. Not all the lust addled thoughts that never quiet down.

He feels like an…item. Used for one night stands when he actually succeeds in bedding them and never again. Regret following him every time. Spiraling in his bed all alone.

Well, until you came.

He pounces on you with words filled with sweet and honey like words

But you know him.

You gently let him down each time but you let him do it to you everyday

Every day is another compliment, pick up line, or flirting act. He actually managed to stop going to parties after shooting all his lust willpower against you!

Did you plan this?! Oh sweetie~♡!He should’ve known! ♡

He’s…not upset though. He’s happy. No more being an item for demons or magic users anymore…he can…use his lines on you.

You…you don’t shame him or get embarrassed of them

(not even when they’re ultra lusty! Are you used to it already…? Did you hear them from someone somehow?!)

You don’t scorn him or look at him in disgust.

No. You don’t do any of those things even though he told you of the horrible things he’s done and how much he misses his appearance in the Celestial Realm.

Instead, you always surprise him and you smile and laugh at his daily routine with you. Even playing along with his antics sometimes.

“Haha! U + I = 69? Well I must be 59 since you’re a 10!”

And you smile.

A beautiful soul and creature called him a 10/10.

You called him beautiful.

When you walk away to subdue the brothers from arguing again, his eyes glaze over with tears.

His brothers had told him yes, and they mean a lot. But for someone who didn’t know him like his brothers and still saw beauty in a twisted angel like him…

His lust for you turned into something else.

Beelzebub

Everyday. Every single day. He dreams of the same thing that he doesn’t think it’s a nightmare anymore.

He sees Lilith die in Belphie’s arms, bleeding and beaten.

He sees Belphie look at him with despair and emptiness asking him why, why didn’t he save her? Why didn’t he save his baby sister? Why, why, why?

He wakes up with cold sweat at the same time every morning and tries to eat something from the pantry

But once he grabs something, a voice whispers to him. A voice that sounds like Lilith.

“Why didn’t you save me? Why, why, why? You should’ve died and left Belphie and I to live. I loved you and you left me to die by myself. Why Beelzebub? Why?”

Sometimes, when he looks at you, he sees Lilith there. Standing with a terrified and confused look. He knows you aren’t her but you…you somehow have that warmth that she had, intensified.

Beelzebub’s guilt and regret always stays with him. Any time he eats, he tastes despair on the tip of his tongue to the back of his throat

He saved Belphie…but his baby sister. The one who everyone, especially him was supposed to protect and fight for…

Died. Died alone. Died falling in pain.

(Lucifer almosts knocks on his door sometimes at night when he hears him but stops just an inch before. He cannot. He has to keep his lips shut.)

Everyday. Carrying the weight of his sister’s death around his neck. One day, he wonders if the weight will carry him instead.

He hates his sin. How he wants and wants and wants and takes and takes and takes and then when he cannot get it

He ruins.

He tore down Mammon’s wall, made all of Satan’s bookshelves fall on the floor, broke a huge piece of Asmodeus’s bathtub, and caused one of Levi’s figurines to snap in half. Just because he was the avatar of gluttony.

He hates it.

He hates it even more when he almost clawed you across your neck because he smelled candy in your pocket when he was desperate

You…you didn’t seem to be scared though.

(You already knew how he was.)

You were startled when he almost hit you but you just put down the cleaning towel down and took out the pieces of candy from your pocket and just gave it to him

He was incredibly confused on why you didn’t scream, or cry, or even get angry at him

“Just ask me next time, I always have some sort of candy or snack on me. Besides, I can cook for you too.”

He’s amazed at the fact that you just offered to cook for him

And when he wakes up from his nightmare again, you’re in the kitchen. Cooking some pancakes

He just sits down after he washes his face and his hands and watches you from the counter

When you’re done, you just give it to him on the plate with a lot of fruits and some whipped cream. It towered as high as his head even without the berries and cream.

His eyes just sparkle and his mouth gapes at the sight

He devours the delicious cakes in a minute and looks up at you to see if you’re upset about your hard work just disappearing like that

But you just smile at him and offer him some more.

Beelzebub doesn’t see Lilith anymore. Not even hearing her voice or her touch. He can feel her…no your warmth radiating from you.

He can feel some heat go to his face as he nods

Beel would be forever grateful for the break you’ve given him from his torment

Belphegor

Being the youngest means you really don’t have a say in anything you do

He followed Beel who followed Mammon who then followed Lucifer

He loved Lucifer but…

His sister…died

The one thing that he wished for was for his family to not perish

And he lost his sister.

With the anguish and grief upon him, he wonders how she’d be alive

If Lucifer hadn’t went against their father, she would’ve had a peaceful death…

If Beelzebub hadn’t saved him, she would still be alive…

No. It’s his fault.

He introduced her into the human realm. He killed her. He killed her.

It’s all his fault from the start.

He shouldn’t have went off with her to the realm of mortals

He should’ve just said no to her even with her puppy eyes

A piece of his heart is empty and dead from his sister’s death

She’s gone and it’s because of him.

He should’ve died that day.

He rather sleep and indulge in his sin as everytime he sleeps, he dreams of his whole family being together.

He curls up around his pillow, not allowing anyone, not even Beel to wake him up until he is needed.

Belphie promises to himself to protect his family. No matter what he does or kills.

…he sees how Beel looks at you though.

How he feels some sort of familiarity like…

Beel told him before how your presence felt like Lilith’s warmth.

And he was right. But it quickly turned into a bitter and regretful reminder for him.

He can’t stand to feel Lilith anymore. Not when she isn’t here.

But he feels a sort of warmth when you vacuum around him with a silent spell on the machine. He can see through his cracked opened eyes how cautious you are of him sleeping on the ground in his room

You…you even take his blanket and drape it over him gently.

And then go about your day.

This happens anytime he’s sleeping on the floor somewhere. Outside, inside, the planetarium…anywhere

And you always bring back the blanket he sleeps with no matter what.

He asks you why you do this when you could just leave him alone

“I don’t want you to get sick or cold when you sleep. It disturbs you and makes your dreams really difficult.”

…

Wow…you really do care that much.

He just falls asleep again afterwards when you drape it over him

But this time, the dreams of his family eventually add you in it, by his side laughing freely…

He wonders why Lilith never regretted falling in love with a creature that wasn’t an angel until he met you.

Uh so for Asmodeus’s, I know he looks in the mirror but I kinda hc him to completely break down when he would see his reflection right after becoming a demon? I mean change yk?

As always, thank you for reading!

#minniemoots #mindlessclow #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me!#obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #x reader #obey me nightbringer #angst #hurt/comfort #gn reader #obey me

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seuonji · 9 months

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彡on a variety show w your svt bf!

๑ idol!svt x idol!yn secret relationship series! no storyline, just fun.

one ๑ two ๑ three ๑ four ๑ five ๑ six ๑ seven #mlist

notes ๑ variety show 'my alcohol diary' has mentions of drinking & getting drunk.

your group plays esports (valorant, leave of legends, apex, etc) against svt as a hybe special!

wonwoo gives you a look when you both sit at the end of your respective tables, you on the right, him on the left making you two sort of beside each other.

as you both play, the host points out that your skills are extremely good. your group member brings up the fact that recently you’ve been spending a lot more time gaming in your free time to which wonwoo rests his head on his hand to cover his smile knowing that he’s the reason you’ve been gaming more. the host adds on that your play style is a bit similar to wonwoo giving both groups chills. “perhaps it’s what’s adapted after a long time of playing,” you calmly respond.

on the other hand with soonyoung— he keeps messing up, at one point he shot one of his members, “the keyboard isn’t following what i want to do.” and you’d fr just face palm yourself. the host mentions, “even yn is getting tired of your antics.” “what antics!? im really trying.” you hope he can make it when technology evolves further. after filming you meet up with him. “wasn’t i cool earlier?” he asks. “i think my baby cousin can beat you.”

jeonghan would be such a menace in this scenario cause omg he would target you. like if he spots you he will not stop shooting and chasing until he gets you— your group member watching all of this go down would try to shoot jeonghan yet somehow he’s dodging and still hunting you down— “let me breathe!?” jeonghan shouts at your member. “you’re not letting ME breathe?” you shout back.

๑

random play dance! (random song is played and you have to dance the correct choreography)

beforehand you'd ask seungkwan to help you with the dances but he was not about to help you out while you were in a different group! until in one of the rounds where you looked lost, seungkwan comes to the front and dances clearly as a way to help you. "you're helping the other groups! get to the back," competitive seungcheol would shout. "sorry i got excited," seungkwan laughs it off. being fr tho how does that man know that many choreographies.

i imagine seokmin/mingyu would whisper to you, "i got you, just follow me," and then he would be one of the first to be eliminated.

vernon keeps on looking at you and copying your dance— you can’t help but laugh at his facial expressions when he doesn’t know the dance but also somehow he’s surviving.

wherever you are in the arena, chan always ends up beside you.

๑

youngji's program 'my alcohol diary'

you’d go alone to promote your groups album. your episode was relatively short— they covered it up with 'yn got drunk super fast' but actually, whether you have a high tolerance or not, in the end when you got drunk, you just kept on gushing about your boyfriend. (bf can be any member)

when youngji asked you to teach her the dance of your song you went through it step by step until a certain part, “oh soonyoung choreographed this part and i gave it as a suggestion and it made the cut to the official choreo,” you said with a big smile. // “my boyfriend likes this part,” you danced the bit then nonchalantly continued to teach youngji but she’s standing, there still in shock of everything she’s heard.

after filming, your boyfriend would pick you up and take care of you till you sober up.

the next day youngji would message and reveal something to you.

yn: im so sorry for the short episode run-

youngji: if it makes you feel better, seungcheol/soonyoung/mingyu/minghao talked about you way more than you did about them.

๑

chinese whisper game as a mini game (there’s a given word/phrase and the word is passed on through all players, last players needs to shout it out word for word)

you’re standing in front of jeonghan/minghao and he keeps on blowing into your ear before he starts actually saying the given phrase—

but if it was the noise cancellation version (have to read lips or body actions to get the word/phrase)

seungcheol pouted at you when you couldn’t understand what he was saying which a lot of viewers found weird since he would usually only do that with his members.

you almost hug jeonghan/joshua/wonwoo when he got the word correct—

jun/wonwoo/jihoon keeps on giving you high-fives every round.

you consider choking soonyoung when he can’t get the word correct for shit.

you and minghao/chan kept on bickering over the way he would execute the word. the staff and your members would be more interested on how you guys fight rather than the word being finally passed over to the last person.

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oatmilk-vampire · 3 months

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Birthday Blues

Read part 2 here.

Steve hates his birthday.

He knows he may not be the only one who gets "birthday blues" but he feels like it's a lot deeper than just the blues.

When he got closer with Eddie and learned of his own shitty upbringing, he thought it'd be a bonding moment for them. Eddie has to hate his birthday too, right?

Wrong.

Despite Eddie’s mom dying when he was only six, and Eddie’s dad being a deadbeat, leaving Eddie on his own before Uncle Wayne took him in, Eddie loved his birthday.

The Munsons may not have been rich but Wayne always did his best to provide Eddie with new(er) clothes, or dice, or guitar picks. A new album or poster for his bedroom walls. Maybe even his favorite food at the diner--something they didn't do often as they usually survived on box cereal and spaghetti-Os.

And when Al Munson finally rolled into town conveniently around his only child's birthday, well he'd give the sort of shitty, low-commitment gift only a father could give.

And Eddie looked forward to it all the same. One or two shitty presents in six years is better than none when it comes to his father. He'd take what he could get.

So, when Eddie's birthday comes and goes and Steve gets invited to his and Wayne's get together with the kids, and then a later party with the members of Corroded Coffin--well of course Steve goes. And he showers Eddie with love and meaningful but still kinda pricey presents, because he can. And he wants to. Despite the merciless teasing he endures. The look on Eddie's face makes Steve feel like he's the one that got the greatest gift of all.

This, of course, all falls apart when Eddie points out Steve's own birthday must be coming up, and he's right. And because he has no tact he announces in front of everyone who realizes in horror that they've gone years of knowing Steve and celebrating his birthday exactly zero times.

Steve's equally horrified now because now everyone is tripping over their feet desperately trying to make it up to him with cakes and ice cream and movies and handmade cards and weird action figures Eddie probably would have liked better.

It's only after Steve gracelessly accepts all of their gift-giving, and fends off at least three panic attacks and two migraines that he has to put on his bitch voice and scream that the only thing he wants for his birthday is to be left alone.

And like usual, the kids do not listen.

Until Eddie steps in. He makes them go, Robin too, even if she is pissed about it. But they go when Eddie assures them that Steve probably just feels a little overwhelmed right now and needs some space.

He's close to leaving too, knowing he may have made a mistake and should probably get out of his hair... But then Steve starts crying and Eddie has to stay.

It's not loud or ugly, just these little, tiny pitiful things like Steve is trying his damnest to not cry. Like the act of tears falling would kill him.

Eddie cautiously slides next to his shaking form on the couch, careful not to jostle him too much.

He bites his lip as he experiments with placing a hand on Steve's shoulder.

Steve tenses under his touch until Eddie speaks,

"Stevie, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. None of us did."

His parents were hardly around. Never gave him practical toys he wanted, just whatever they thought a boy should have to shape him into a "proper young man", if they thought he needed toys at all. No parties. Ever. He briefly wanted to throw ragers when he realized he was old enough and his parents wouldn't be home, they never were, but those made him feel even worse so he got used to spending the day like any other. All alone in a big, empty house. Not a home.

Eddie continues to rub soothing circles into Steve's back as he lets it all out, explaining his woes as best he can through a sore throat and runny nose. Eventually he pulls Steve into a proper hug-turned-cuddle until his breathing steadies and he isn't shaking anymore.

"I'm sorry." Eddie holds his breath, hoping it doesn’t trigger another panic attack.

"No--don’t be. Thank you."

"For what? Making you cry?"

"For caring enough to bring it up, even if it was a lot. But mostly for being here, after. Just..."

Steve didn't have to finish his sentence. Eddie knew what he was trying to say.

Thank you for staying. Thank you for holding me. Thank you for loving me.

"Always, Stevie. I'll always be here for you."

Steve squeezes him, and Eddie squeezes back once, twice.

He doesn't say it, but Steve understands.

Happy Birthday... I love you.

#wrote this because.... it's my birthday #i'm 22 #and i've had the birthday blues my whole life #and i thought maybe Steve could relate #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet

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sanarkeo · 3 months

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they can’t love you like i love you

nayeon wants to show her girl off to the world.

alternatively: look at you getting fucked by someone you barely know on your first date!! nayeon x reader smut - exhibitionism - humiliation - dom!nayeon w sub!reader - idol!nayeon w idol!reader - power dynamics? unnie kink sorry lol... 4+k words long for some reason

it all started at music bank a week into your group’s promotions for the new title track, when your manager entered the waiting room and yelled out that she had a surprise for all of you. you looked up from your phone just as the hairstylist had fixed your bangs and shot an intrigued look over to your closest friend in the group. she raised her eyebrows at you and mouthed: “twice?”

you knew then that it was all over for you.

even being at the music program today, occupying the same building as them brought you a rush you’d only felt going up on a stage and seeing a thousand fans gush over you. you were finally going to be able to meet them, actually meet them. not smile and wave from afar. you could finally talk about how much they’d inspired you, even take a picture with them. but you’d be lying to yourself if you said your heart wasn’t in full on palpitation mode thinking about finally seeing your favorite girl face to face like this.

you’d even set her as your lockscreen for god’s sake. but maybe then the rumors were true and her face does bring good luck or whatever. embarrassed just wondering what’d happen if she ever saw it, you shoved it into the shallow pocket of the tightest mini skirt the stylists could’ve fit you into and left the room with your members.

the meeting with twice was brief and took place in the most random of kbs corridors. most of what you’d remembered of it was tripping over your words, bowing a bit too much and too fervently, and staring at how gorgeous they looked in person. seeing them in concert was nothing like this.

“congratulations on your new song!” sana shrieked, pulling your leader into a hug and beaming at the rest of you. “ah, i love seeing juniors with so much passion!”

they took turns wishing your group the best and exchanging some encouraging words. you were avoiding eye contact with one of the girls in fear you’d combust, but felt her gaze lay heavily on you. The way im nayeon stared you down stirred something in your stomach and made your fingertips tremble against the copies of signed albums.

Unlike jihyo or dahyun, she barely said a word beyond the niceties. Which was odd, because nayeon was nayeon. Her expression was fixed and ambiguous, and you swore at yourself for giving into looking her up and down. She was wearing that outfit from the concept photos. the one with that fucking jacket and the tube top and that skirt. nayeon had her gloved hands on her hips and you had to tear your eyes away, afraid of letting your stare wander too much.

when your manager signalled for the group to get to rehearsals, you hurried to bow once more with your members and hastily presented the signed albums to twice. when you gave a copy to nayeon, she accepted it with both hands and a closed smile.

“thank you, y/n-ah~”

you turned on your heels and ran back to the waiting room to get ready. your members teased you for how pink your face had turned even with all your makeup on.

when filming was done, your body felt the pressure of the late nights and intense practices come crashing through. you were just glad you’d be able to get a full night’s sleep. stepping into the waiting room ready to change back into your clothes, the sight of your manager glowering at you made you wince.

“how many times do you have to lose your phone? you know, twice’s manager had to come all the way here to hand it to me.”

she sighed and handed you your phone, now with long, deep cracks sustained from a corner - it must’ve fallen out of your pocket while you were running.

you and half your members got into a van to get back to the dorms. as soon as you settled into your seat and got comfortable though, they started to take sneaky glances at each other and giggled.

“i used to think you liked nayeon-sunbaenim too much but i think she actually likes you back,” one of them teased.

“oh my god, did you see how she was looking at you?”

“or maybe she hates you somehow? either way, even i began blushing…”

“-please, please, please guys i think she was just like ill or something.” you were tired, sure, but the annoyance also had something to do with wanting to never think about the stray possibility of her liking you at all. you turned on your phone to send a text to a friend when you saw it. just as you were going to attach some pictures, you were greeted with a flood of selfies of nayeon.

you first raised an eyebrow at your members who were also busy on their phones, as if they played some lame prank on you. but you soon realised that you’d never seen those nayeon selfies before (you were surprisingly on top of twice content for someone who clocked an average of 4 hours of sleep), and that those selfies looked really fucking recent. taken today, recent.

there she was, standing in front of a bathroom mirror, your phone looking small in her hand, a thumb slipped under the waistband, pulling it ever so slightly down. as soon as you saw it, you dropped your phone onto your lap and took a deep breath. nayeon found your phone, nayeon took your phone, nayeon saw your lockscreen and nayeon used your phone to take insanely hot mirror selfies in the kbs bathroom.

all the other images you flicked through were just slight variations of the first, till you landed on a short video. playing it, you saw nayeon moving your phone back and forth from the mirror as she cycled through an array of poses, mouthing… something?

one of your favorite things about im nayeon was how she could sing like an absolute angel, light and airy, while having this depth and hoarseness in her speech. you pressed the speaker against your ear and upped the volume ever so slightly. the sound of her voice, nearly whispering, soft and sultry, forced a sigh out of you. you’d thought she was just spewing random numbers, which you would’ve accepted anyway, but then it hit you.

it was her number.

you [9:01 pm]

hello?

nayeon [9:05 pm]

what took you so long?

before your first date, all she’d given you was a date, a time, and an instruction: wait for me outside your building. the surprise in it made your breath hitch as you stepped out the front door to your dorm. the fact that you kept it a secret from your members and managers gave it the mildest sense of danger you craved after years of obedience. when you got down to the entrance, you saw nayeon leaned against her coupe in an off the shoulder midi and heels.

“you got down here a lil early… you this eager for our date?”

in an instant, your cheeks flushed red. first, because in the 3 weeks you’d been texting each other, you must’ve forgotten how beautiful she looked in person. then, because you looked down at yourself and realized how underdressed you were. nayeon clocked this, and you didn’t notice how she tried her best to resist smirking.

“sorry, umm… i didn’t know we were going somewhere fancy…”

it didn’t click that maybe she’d left that bit out intentionally.

“don’t worry babe, a pretty face like yours doesn’t need a flashy dress to make an impression.”

she opened the door for you then got into the driver’s seat. all the way to the restaurant, you held in the urge to ask her to keep her eyes on the road. it was surreal. being in im nayeon’s car and her driving you to your first date at a restaurant you could hardly afford on your rookie checks. her looking into your eyes, staring at your body like she’d eat you whole.

you’d admit you felt uncomfortably warm as she cursed out other drivers. you’d admit you leaked through your underwear when she gripped your bare thigh with her left hand and drew lines with her thumb. you felt her grip loosen and her fingers trace your thigh higher and higher until she pulled it back to hold the wheel.

“ahh! we’re just around the corner. i hope you like french food?”

you had a curfew, you had dozens of unanswered texts and yet you were tipsy in im nayeon’s apartment. putting down your glass of wine on her coffee table, you looked over at her floor-to-ceiling windows - a view of the han river at midnight framed perfectly - and shook your head at your stupidity.

your leader might kill you. your company could set your contract on fire.

then, you turned and saw nayeon there, bathed in yellow light, head propped against her hand, biting her bottom lip.

“thank you for tonight,” she said and set her glass down to take your hand and stroke the back of it gently with her thumb.

your leader was going to kill you. your contract was up in flames. whatever.

throughout dinner, all that initial embarrassment of feeling out of place in a dimly lit restaurant full of finely plated dishes and women decked out in jewelry, died down and was replaced by a heat that grew up your neck and between your legs. nayeon made you feel like you were the only girl in the room. like you were worthy of everything. like you were beautiful and good. you tried to play it cool but when she got the bill and asked you if you wanted to come over to her place, you’d never felt more easy in your life.

so there you were, the wine’s acidity coating your tongue, your throat dry, just craving her lips that were parted slightly, right in front of you.

“why did you give me your number?” you asked.

“because.”

nayeon licked her lips and you wondered how desperate you looked at that moment.

“and… and why did you take all those pictures?”

as brazen as nayeon was, you still caught her sheepish smile when it appeared for the briefest moment.

“i knew i had to have you from the moment i laid eyes on you.”

you didn’t know then how long she’d actually kept tabs on you for. she scooted closer and intertwined her fingers in yours, never once breaking eye contact. the smell of bergamot and citrus was intoxicating.

“and it worked didn’t it, babe?”

you hummed in agreement and tore your gaze away from her. but your sight landed on her cleavage and you turned dumb. at once, nayeon lifted up your chin and chuckled, just knowing how much you wanted her.

“texting me straight away like a good girl?"

“i had to.”

nayeon exhaled, closed her eyes and moved her hands to your hips.

“such a good girl for me.”

she kissed you and you never realized how soft lips could be. you laid your arms on her shoulders as she slid her tongue between your teeth, then sucked on your bottom lip till it was sore. when you shifted, you felt how wet you were getting just fantasizing about what that tongue could do to you.

when she pulled away, you saw the desire set deep in her eyes. she tilted her head and sunk her teeth onto your neck. she sucked and licked on your sensitive skin, and you didn’t notice how her hands got under your blouse. you were so sure she’d leave hickeys (and what will you even tell your makeup artists tomorrow?), but the way nayeon’s fingertips traced the curves of your waist left goosebumps on your thighs.

“i-i don’t think i should stay overnight though,” you whined, helping nayeon take off your blouse. “i’m already in so much trouble unnie.”

her bunny-toothed grin appeared as soon as you said that last word and she hurried to get your bra off. “don’t worry, unnie will take care of you.” she tossed your bra aside and steadied her breath staring at your tits. “fuck,” she breathed. “i wish all of seoul could see them.”

she played with your nipples for a while before wrapping her lips around one of them. you threw your head back and moaned, feeling her tongue flick at it and encircle it. she planted kisses across your chest making her way to your other breast and slipped her hands beneath the band of your skirt. you resisted the urge to just spread your legs wide open for her when she pulled it down. you never felt more like a slut than then.

after you kicked the skirt to the side, nayeon kissed you and you whimpered into her mouth. “can i taste you?” she asked, and you nodded and ogled at how the pinkness of her full cheeks spread to her nose.

you squirmed in your seat as you watched her carelessly push back her coffee table and get on her knees. it was mesmerizing seeing her fix her bangs the same way she’d always done when you watched her vlogs or interviews, except this time it was in person, and this time, she’d done it before forcefully dragging you closer to the edge of the sofa.

“fuck…” she groaned. ever since she saw you in that mini skirt, she’d been touching herself to the thought of taking it off of you. now you were in front of her, legs inching apart somewhat unconsciously, she was going to have you. all of you. with your underwear still on, she pressed your thighs further back and took a second to admire the sight of you.

“you’re so wet.” nayeon smirked and dragged her tongue from the bottom of your slit to your clit, the friction from the fabric driving you insane. “so wet for me.” she nearly tore your panties forcing it off of you.

she parted your pussy lips with her long fingers and lapped at your cunt with broad strokes. you writhed and wriggled, sobbing at the way her thick tongue moved onto brushing back and forth over your clit.

“nay-nayeon unnie…”

you bit your lip and looked down, catching her gazing up at you like she was going to devour you. you moaned with each shape she drew with the tip of her tongue.

“my little slut got wet even on the drive over to the restaurant right?”

her tongue teased at your hole, dripping with juices, then sunk into it. you tried moving your hips, grinding against her face to get more of it in, wanting so badly to be filled with her warmth.

“mmh…”

“what a slut,” she muttered, pulling away.

nayeon stood up and ordered you to do the same. she grabbed you by the wrist and yanked you to the window. instinctively, you tried to cover yourself up with your hands and angled your body to the side, nervous at who in those officetels and apartments across the river could’ve seen you.

“no, no,” she said in a low voice, getting behind you and taking your hands in hers, exposing you to the skyline of east seoul. you knew the odds were tiny, but reddened uncontrollably at the thought of some stranger being able to watch. your reputation could’ve been wiped just like that. everyone could’ve found out how much of a slut you were for nayeon. yet, she gently pushed your shoulders down and you obediently took that as a cue to kneel.

“what if someone sees?”

nayeon sighed and sat down, her thighs holding you in place, her clothed chest pressed against your bare back. “you’ll put on a show for them then,” she whispered, and gestured for you to sit down. “you’re good at that aren’t you?”

she forced your legs open, but you tried resisting even to come across faintly as having some sense of dignity. digging her nails into your skin, nayeon spread your legs wide open and you instantly felt the cold air on your pussy again. looking down at all those tiny cars stuck in traffic, at all the red and yellow lights of the city, you shuddered but gulped your doubts straight down. as one of her hands slid down your chest to your abs and finally to your needy pussy, the other groped your breast and rubbed your nipple between a finger and a thumb.

you couldn’t get over how warm and smooth her touch was. she rested her chin on your shoulder and you felt her lips hover behind your ear. “baby, i want the whole world to see you get fucked.”

the moment her fingers skimmed over your clit, you jerked your head back, resting it on her shoulder, and whined. she giggled right in your ear and you felt a wave of tingles run down the small of your back. the image of her eating you out was still burned into your mind.

this was the first time you thought that maybe she just liked to torture you, enjoyed the tension in your thighs as you tried your best to keep them apart. not squeeze them together to get a little more pleasure like a bitch in heat. no, you had more patience than that. just enough to to be able to feel the rise and fall of her chest on your back and not collapse to her feet, pleading to be fucked.

with her index and middle fingers, she slowly parted your folds and you heard the subtle sound of her smacking her lips. “such a pretty pink pussy. i can’t wait to ruin you. can’t wait to hear you beg and cry.” nayeon smacked your cunt and removed a hand from your tits to squeeze your cheeks as you winced in pain. “what do you want? say it.”

“i want you…”

she spanked your pussy again.

“you want unnie to what?”

“i want you use my holes and fuck me like i’m your fuck toy!”

just like that, the pent up horniness from nights wasted fingering yourself senseless to imagined scenarios with her spilled right out. you couldn’t tell how badly that sent her on a power trip, but you had somewhat of an idea. because nayeon dragged her fingers up and down your pussy like it was fucking nothing at all then shoved them so far down your mouth you felt them at the back of your throat.

“suck it,” she ordered.

you obeyed her and wrapped your tongue around the salty slickness of her fingers. you bobbed your head up and down, coating their entire length in your spit. all you could think about was them ripping you open. how she so easily held your tits in the palm of her hand. how much more they would stretch your pussy out than your own fingers.

she pulled them out of your greedy mouth and deftly brought them to your entrance. her fingertips dipped in and out like she was testing you, and the frustration nearly made you break free from her hold.

“please, please, please agh… please fuck me, please!”

she kissed your cheek and held your throat in her free hand. “if you say so,” she quipped, and thrust two of her fingers deep into your hole. she plunged into you fast and hard, you were just dumbstruck at how much they filled you up. she curled her fingers to hit your walls at an angle that made you see stars. your breathing grew ragged as she picked up the pace. nayeon’s grip on your throat tightened and you felt yourself reaching a point where you were so blissed out you would’ve done anything to keep her fucking you at that tempo.

“f-fuck me, fuck oh fuck, please i need you, i need more of you-”

without another word, she forced another finger into you and grunted at how tight you felt, clenched around them. “oh my god, you’re so tight for me,” she sneered, the thought of you feeling so vulnerable and small in her hands made her feel ecstatic. at that point, your brain was mush, and every word that left your tongue was some form of: please, fuck, more, or deeper.

“what was that? d’you want me to slow down honey?” she taunted, and drew her fingers back ever so leisurely. the pressure that was building down in you dissipated and you couldn’t help but grasp at her forearm.

“no- no i was gonna- nayeon… fuck!” you felt tears form and the corners of your eyes. how miserable you must’ve looked to anyone who might’ve peered into the window to see you just there, grinding and fucking onto her unmoving hand until it disappeared. her other hand still on your throat, she shoved you down so you were on all fours.

“you can’t cum now, no, not just yet,” she near growled in your ear. she pushed you around and shifted till your ass was up and facing out onto the skyline. it hadn’t crossed your mind until that night how thrilling it was being treated like a piece of meat in nayeon’s hands. your knees and arms yelped at the cold hard marble tiles, but your belly was hot against the silkyness of her thighs.

then, a hard spank landed on your ass cheek. you shrieked but why were you sticking your ass out even more after that? nayeon massaged your ass and rubbed down to the back of your upper thigh.

“i feel so sorry for giving such a good girl such a bad punishment, but i couldn’t stop myself…” she slapped your ass harder this time and you felt the heat and the pinkness form on your skin. “should i? should i stop?”

you shook your head.

“spank me and fuck me until i’m sore,” you sniffled and rested your cheek on the ground.

nayeon shoved all three fingers back into your sopping wet cunt and pistoned them in and out. the only times she’d ever paused for second were to land a slap on your ass. it stung like hell and each subsequent smack made your clit that bit more sensitive to the accidental brushes of her knuckles.

with every pump deeper into you, nayeon felt your walls squeeze tighter and tighter around her fingers. her arms grew tired and yet she just went faster, knowing how close you were getting.

“cum for me baby, cum for unnie.”

as another smack landed on you, the searing pain combined with the overwhelming pleasure was almost too much to handle. your breath hitched and you clawed at the tiles, nayeon’s pace becoming so unforgiving that you just had to-

“fuck- oh fuck! i’m gonna-”

nayeon nearly came to the sound of your scream. you came so hard you felt like your eyes had rolled back into your skull. speechless, shaking, shivering, even when you felt so overstimulated just having her still fingers inside of you, you could only swipe at her arm. feeling liquid stream down your thigh, you whimpered.

when nayeon pulled your exposed form into her arms, you were enveloped in her warmth and her scent. wordlessly, she rubbed your back and planted tender kisses on your shoulder, up to your jawline and onto your lips.

“i like you,” she confessed. and though it sounded so simple and so light, it gave you butterflies.

she cleared her throat and picked you up. you were initially surprised at how strong she was, then blushed when you thought about the definition in her muscles as she fucked you. she kicked open the door to her bedroom and softly laid you onto her bed. tucking you under her heavy blanket, she gave your forehead a peck and slid into the other side. with how dim the lighting was, you could barely make out how nayeon was just looking at you with a goofy smile plastered on her face.

“i like you too,” you admitted. she stroked your cheek and hummed in contentment. you looked over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of the time on her clock. “fuck. my-my manager, i need to let them know i-”

“shh, shh… darling please don’t worry.” all that fear and anxiety was washed away when nayeon shushed you.

“i’ll handle it, princess.”

rahhh first fic! lemme know what you think :D i might continue it but we'll see how it goes... title inspired by underwater by red velvet hehe

#wlw #sapphic #lesbian #twice smut #nayeon smut #nayeon x reader #nayeon x reader smut #twice x reader smut #nayeon imagines #twice imagines #nayeon

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 10 months

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If You Leave Me, You’re Out Of Your Mind - Charles Leclerc

Summary: Both Charles and y/n are very confident about their place in each other’s lives and don’t consider anyone or anything else a threat to it.

Short but sweet I think - playful banter between Charles and y/n, not sure Charles would tolerate y/n irl but this isn’t real so all good

Charles Leclerc x very confident!reader

“I love this suit.” Y/n grins actually obsessed with the white Monaco suit. Knowing he played a part in choosing the design, it’s just brilliant.

“I’m glad you like it.” Charles smiles then picking up his helmet and pushing it down onto her head.

He’s got into the habit of putting any specially designed helmets on her and taking pictures of her in them, he’s got a whole album just dedicated to picture of her in his helmet with difference variations. This one is especially meaningful with it being inspired by his dad’s helmet and matching Arthur’s.

“Awww...you two are so sweet. I want to be sick.” Lando states as he catches sight of the two only to be given the middle finger from y/n.

“Don’t be jealous you can’t have me.” Y/n smirks while he walks away laughing and shaking his head at her as she turns back to Charles as she pulls the helmet off and notices a certain expression on her boyfriend’s face. “Don’t look jealous over Lando, Charles.”

“I’m not jealous.” Charles mumbles then looking at her. “If you leave me, I know you’re out of your mind.”

Y/n laughs actually not feeling like she could possibly disagree. She’s as obsessed with him as he is with her, their feelings are mutual and the thought of either of them leaving each other is just madness to both of them. Even others have said they can’t imagine the two apart. However, Charles is still protective and doesn’t like other men being too friendly or too close.

Charles picks her up in a hug holding her tightly for a few moments and just clinging to her.

“You smell good.” Charles comments suddenly then frowning. “You smell different to normal. Is it the one I got you for Christmas?”

“It’s scary that you can do that. You always smell the same to me.”

“I have never changed what aftershave I use.” Charles shrugs then grinning as he leans down and kisses her softly. “You have to go...don’t go and find Lando.”

“Noted...Max and George are ok though? Maybe Lewis.”

Despite his wishes that y/n would stop constantly teasing him, he also knows that she wouldn’t be y/n without that specific tendency.

“You have got to stop riling him up before he goes out for free practices.” Andrea laughs as he walks with her upstairs while she just grins at him about it, not looking sorry about it in the slightest.

-----

Despite the entire Monaco weekend taking a sharp downwards spiral after a grid penalty left him out of the top three and then the rain towards the end of the race left the driver wreaking havoc on the track in slicks.

More than one of them just slid right off the track. But somehow Charles kept P6. So while he didn’t lose any positions, he also didn’t gain.

Which means drinking to a stupid state was inevitable and being the caring girlfriend she is, y/n stayed sober to make sure she could take care of her boyfriend.

Eventually they leave the party at some ungodly hour of the morning. Y/n is exhausted since the lack of alcohol has left her much less energetic than most of those in attendance.

“I’m so lucky I have you.” Charles states after being helped to sit down on the edge of the bed while she moves to undo his jeans making him smirk and lie back.

“Charles, you are far too drunk to be letting your mind wander to that sort of thing.” Y/n laughs while he groans in defeat.

“I lose a race and my girlfriend’s love all in one day.” Charles states dramatically, clearly joking about the first part which earns and eye roll.

“Yeah, I’m going to go find Max and see if he wants to celebrate with me.” Y/n murmurs before she gets his jeans off. “Come on baby, I need to get your top off.”

Charles smiles bright sitting up and letting her pull his top off before he moves his hands to hold her then nuzzling his face into her stomach. Which she just lets him go with.

“Are you ready for bed?” Y/n asks quietly after letting him stay in that position for a bit, running her hands through his hair which makes him look up at her with a soft smile.

“Yes, please.”

“Ok, you lie back. I’m just going to get ready for bed then I’ll be right back ok?”

Charles looks very hesitant to let her go but she moves and leans down kissing him before she slightly rushes her skincare routine and cleans up a little before smiling when she shifts over and moves to lie with him. The moment she’s within reach, she feels his arms wrap around her in a python grip.

“I love you.” Charles whispers then kissing her temple. “Even on the worst days, I know I just need you here to make things feel better.”

Despite her usual strong and confident persona, y/n feels tears prickle her eyes before she rolls to face him and presses her forehead to his.

“It’s a good thing I’m never going anywhere then.” Y/n states then opening her eyes to find Charles already looking at her. “You’re stuck with me for life, no matter what.”

“Good.”

“I love you too...forgot to say that.” Y/n whispers before frowning a little. “And never doubt that you’re going to come back from this. Fred might just be the saving grace that Ferrari so desperately need.”

It might be wishful thinking, but most of the amazing stuff that happens in the world start with wishful thinking.

“Will you stay with me even if I am a loser?”

“Charles! You are not a loser, you have led the championship before and you will do it again. Next time all the way to the end and I’m going to cheer you along every second of the way. Don’t ever doubt yourself again. Or I’m withholding sex entirely.”

“You are cruel sometimes.” Charles pouts then grinning. “But at least I know I can turn to you for support.”

“Always. How else can I expect you to keep being able to afford to share your luxury lifestyle?” Y/n jokes earning a whine before gently bites her shoulder. “Can’t have a sugar daddy without the sugar.”

“You are the sober one and yet you talk that way.” Charles snorts then shaking his head. “Can we sleep now?”

“Yes. Let’s sleep. Though I am taking note that you didn’t oppose the sugar daddy label.”

“Shut up.”

Charles, as he always does when he’s a little sad and whenever he’s drunk, spends the whole night smothering her. Some might say they’re too dependent on each other, but neither of them would have it any other way, and if they’re happy then it doesn’t seem like something that realistically matters.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #fanfic #formula 1 #f1 #leclerc #charles #formula 1 fanfic #charles f1

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 8 months

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Pairing : Bangchan x F!Reader TW : unexpected pregnancy ; Chan is unknowingly (to him) an asshole ; relationship doubts ; a surprise visit from ATEEZ's Hongjoong ; a lot of angst ; and a nice little nana cliffhanger ; Word Count : 4.4k Request : Yes! By a lot of people! A/N : Back to the good stuff!! Angsty Dad Bangchan coming up!! Lets go!!!

A family of your own… It was all you had ever wanted, and surprisingly enough, Chan was fully onboard, sharing that he had similar dreams and that he wanted nothing more than to make those dreams come true with you.

That’s why, when your period didn’t come at all for two months straight, you were more than happy, and maybe a little bit nervous, to run to the nearest corner store and grab a pack-or three-of pregnancy tests just to see if that gut feeling you had was right.

It’s amazing how the validation of two pink lines can completely change the way a person feels. One second you’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub hoping to see those lines, and then you watch them appear as if like magic, and it’s like your entire world and your whole view of it changes, it becomes brighter, clearer, and you get this warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach that can only be described as the feeling of spring, everything in full bloom and the sun beating down and everything is just… Beautiful.

You were too excited, you couldn’t possibly wait for Chan to get home, so you sent him a quick text. “Call me as soon as you’re able to. I love you!” You sent it, and in less than a second your phone was vibrating atop the toilet seat. “What’s wrong? You’re alright?” He asked quickly, and you realized only now that your text was probably slightly worrisome, so you took a moment to calm him, to let him know that you were safe and that you were more than alright.

“I haven’t gotten my period in two months… You know that…” You started off, and he hummed softly to let you know that he was listening and following along. “I finally went down to the store and got myself some tests…” You continued, and you heard the lack of breathing from his end, he was waiting for you to say it, to say something. “Babe… I’m pregnant!” You practically squealed, and you heard a loud thump from his end and a muffled groaning and then someone else in the background asking if he was alright.

“You shoulda told me to stand up before you told me that! You’re serious!? I’m gonna be a dad?! Are you sure?!” The excitement that you felt was shared, you could hear it in his voice, and you could only laugh at how giddy he actually sounded. “Do you want me to come home? I can leave right now! Baby, I’m so happy! How am I supposed to keep working? I wanna come home!”

He was rambling, and it was honestly so cute that you didn’t have the heart to stop him. If there was anyone in the world that you knew would make an amazing father, it was him. You weren’t even fully pregnant yet and he already wanted to be home with you, you knew that you had someone that you could depend on throughout your pregnancy, someone that would be there with you, for you, through it all. “S’alright, babe. You don’t have to rush home now, it’s not like I’m in labor or anything. I just couldn’t wait to tell you. You can get back to work now, sorry for interrupting.”

He gasped loudly, a jumbled mess of sounds coming incoherently from his mouth before he spoke an actual sentence. “You expect me to be able to get back to work after hearing that?! Baby, I wanna come home and be with you! I wanna celebrate! The album can wait, and I know that Jisung and Bin can take care of what I have left for the day anyway. I’m comin’ home now.”

The excitement was sky high for the first two months, he’d call off work completely just to be with you for doctors appointments, he’d hold those little ultrasound images close to him as if they were the most precious pictures on the face of the earth right now. He was attached to you, and you truthfully didn’t mind it, especially since those two months had given you the brunt of all of your symptoms. He was right there with you though, telling you how amazing you were, how good you were doing, how happy he was that you were carrying his child and how he couldn’t wait to meet his little jellybean.

By the third month, it seemed like the novelty wore off, although not completely, not yet at least. He became a little distant, not entirely, but he certainly wasn’t clinging onto you as he had been before. You simply assumed that he was just keeping you in mind since you were constantly sweating, your body temperature felt like you had been sitting in the summer sun for hours, although the doc said that was quite normal actually. Maybe he just thought that you didn’t want him constantly hanging on to you as he had been, and he wouldn’t be entirely wrong in thinking that.

It wasn’t until the fourth month when you realized just how distant he had truly become. It almost seemed like he had just gotten bored of it, his initial reaction seeming more and more like a dream with each passing day. He’d give you a kiss goodbye in the morning, but the lingering touches that used to drift along your stomach were long gone, it was almost as if the bigger you got, the more he just… didn’t care. That hurt, more than you’d like to admit.

Even still, you tried to make excuses for him. He had been working so hard on the album, and now that it was finally announced to the public, he was more stressed than ever. That had you questioning though whether he truly thought of what it would be like to have a child. There was a lot of responsibility, and while you knew that you could do it yourself if needed, you didn’t want to, not when the two of you both discussed this and in the beginning, he made it seem like this was what he wanted as well.

Although Chan was acting the way he was, you were still beyond joyful, especially now that the most important scan was coming up. You’d finally be able to find out the gender of your little jellybean, and from day one, since he had found out, he said that this appointment was the one he was most excited for as well. There was something so magical about finding out the gender of the tiny little human that you were growing inside of you, and you wanted Chan to be there to share in the magic with you.

“You’re already ready, that’s great!” You chimed as you stepped out of the bedroom, dressed and ready to head out, and you saw Chan standing in the kitchen fully dressed as well sipping on a cup of coffee as he scrolled through his phone. He glanced up at you, his eyebrow arching in confusion as he looked you over, and you hoped, you silently prayed that he was just joking with you right now. “The doctors appointment is today… It’s the gender scan… I told you that.”

You tried to keep your voice as light as possible, but the slight tremor was heard by you, and you were sure that it was heard by him as well. “Ah shit… That’s today? Why would you schedule it for today? You know we have an interview today.” He was… scolding you… As if it were your fault that the appointment that you had made a month in advance had fallen on the same day of an interview that you hadn’t a single clue was going on. “You’re gonna have to catch a ride there or something, I don’t have the time to drive across town and make it back to the studio in time.”

He was choosing an interview over you… over the baby. It was shocking to say the least, and it felt like his words alone had ripped your heart straight from your chest, but what was worse was the way he was looking at you as if this was somehow all your fault. “Right… Sorry…” You mumbled, not wanting to get into an argument with him right now solely because you didn’t want to smudge your makeup with the tears that you knew he’d cause.

“It’s fine I guess… Just… Think a little more, yeah?” He gave you a meek smile as he walked past you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before rushing to the door. “I’ll probably be a little late coming home today. The guys all want to go out and celebrate the upcoming release so… I’ll probably just stay at the dorms tonight.” It almost seemed like he was doing it on purpose, creating this unimaginably large space between himself and you… Or maybe it was himself and the baby, although you weren’t sure why. What you did know though, was that it wasn’t fair, not to you, and surely not to the baby.

Being with Chan had gave you contact to some other big stars in the business, and most people would assume that you were happy about it solely because of their status, but you saw in people their best attributes, their soft sides, the sides of them that they hid from the cameras, the sides of them that made them more than just idols. One of those people happened to be Hongjoong, who had been the first person to come over and personally congratulate you and Chan when you told him you were pregnant. These past two months he had even become more invested in your pregnancy than Chan was. That’s why he was the first person you called.

“Am I bothering you? You’re not busy… Are you?” Were the first words out of your mouth as soon as he had picked up his phone. You were sitting on the edge of the couch, watching the time tick down, getting closer to your appointment, and you hated riding in a strangers car, it made you feel uncomfortable, and Chan knew that. You hated that he would willingly put you in the position to do something like that.

Hongjoongs soft chuckle came through your speaker, and you could hear the other guys in the background talking, but it seemed to grow distant as if he were going somewhere quieter to talk to you. “You’re never a bother, honey.” He cooed out the pet name, one that Chan had said on multiple occasions that he hated, but old habits die hard, and you knew that Hongjoong meant nothing by it. “What’s up? Are you having another craving? I can get you whatever you need.”

God, you wished it were that simple, but you scoffed, shaking your head as if he could see it. “No… I have a doctors appointment, and I need to get there but… Chan had an interview with the guys today and he needed to be there for it. I just need a ride…” Your voice trembled as you said the words, and for some reason, you felt ashamed having to ask another man for help when your boyfriend, the father of your child, was fully capable of getting you to your appointment and just chose not to.

“Is he gonna meet you there?” He quizzed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to verbally answer his question, at least, not with words, so you let out a dejected sigh that gave him all the answers he needed. “Alright, let me just get my shoes on and I’ll come pick you up. We’ll make it there in time. Do you want me to stay in there with you? We can go get something to eat when it’s done.” He knew that you wouldn’t turn down food, so you agreed to his offer, a smile slowly returning to your face as you finally relaxed against the couch cushions.

“You’re a lifesaver, Joongie. Thank you so much.” You chirped, and you heard him laugh again, the sound of it almost contagious. You weren’t sure what you would have done if he wasn’t able to, but then again, Hongjoong would come help you at the drop of a dime simply because he cared about you. Chan saw it differently, but then again, if it weren’t for Hongjoong, you wouldn’t be making it to your appointment today, so in your eyes, he had no right to be jealous or upset about it.

“A girl!” Hongjoong exclaimed, his eyes brightening as a wide smile spread across his face. Not even Chan had gotten this excited during the last two visits, it was a nice change of pace, and a very welcomed change of atmosphere. “That’s so exciting, honey. I’m so happy!” He continued, grabbing your hand and giving it a light squeeze.

The nurse who had been wiping the gel off your stomach confusedly looked between you and Hongjoong, clearly wondering why Chan wasn’t there, and why this new man seemed more happy about the gender reveal than the actual father would have been, but you didn’t have the time to go into details about how your entire dream seemed to be spiraling, so you focused your attention on Hongjoong entirely. “Are we celebrating at my favorite restaurant?” You teasingly asked, and when his mouth fell open, you were about to backtrack and let him know you were joking, until his head fervently nodded.

“Of course! Where else would I take you to celebrate, huh? My honeys deserve the best!” He looked at the nurse who only seemed more and more confused the more he spoke, but he didn’t seem to mind it, giving her a warm smile. “Is she done? I don’t want her to be hungry… Did you eat this morning?” He glanced down at you and you shook your head which had him looking back up at the nurse for the answer to his first question.

Once the nurse gave you the okay that you were done and printed out the ultrasound pictures, Hongjoong grabbed your purse and helped lead you out of the office, his hand wrapped around your waist almost protectively as you rode down the elevator to get to the first floor. “Thank you for coming with me… It’s so embarrassing to be in there alone sometimes and… Seeing all the other couples kind of makes me sad.” You always felt like you could be so open with him, he was so understanding, and he always listened to everything that you had to say. It was nice to have someone like that in your life, someone unbiased that wouldn’t always take the side of Chan, and while you loved the other guys, they would always lean more towards their leader.

“If you ever need someone to go with you, if Bangchan can’t make it, you can always call me. Remember that, honey. I’m always here for you.” He reassured you, his hand moving from your waist to your lower back as he led you out of the elevator. “You think I can have one of the pictures though? It’s so neat to actually see her, I wanna show all of the guys.” You nodded your head, climbing into the passenger seat and fishing the row of pictures out of your purse to look through them again. “Looks like she has your nose…” Hongjoong mused as he leaned over the console to look at the pictures with you before playfully tapping the tip of your nose. “She’s gonna be adorable, just like you.”

He always gave you a warm feeling, but you attributed that to his friendliness and how kind he was, but now, sitting next to him in the car after sharing such an important moment with him, looking him in the eyes… You didn’t know if that feeling stopped there… And you felt guilty for that. Maybe it was just because you were upset with Chan and your mind was trying to find some other source of happiness… It felt wrong though. “Thanks… Joongie.” You murmured, dropping your gaze down to your lap as you fumbled with the edge of the blouse you were wearing. You couldn’t let your mind continue with those thoughts… It wouldn’t be right… Chan was your boyfriend, and you were sure that Hongjoong was simply being kind to you. That’s all it was…

“You keep ordering more stuff for her when you know she’ll just grow out of it by the second month.” Chan grumbled when he heard the knock on the door, his annoyance with your online baby shopping becoming more and more evident with each package that came in. It’s not like you were spending his money though, you were still working for the time being, at least while you could. “You’re wasting your money.” He continued as you grabbed your phone to see which package could have possibly been delivered today.

The door knocked again, and now you both were confused because, even if it was a package delivery, they would have only knocked once to let you know that the package was delivered and then went about their day. That, and the fact that you hadn’t gotten any notifications or updates that anything you had ordered was out for delivery. “Well it’s not for me, maybe it’s a new piece of equipment for your studio.” You said, refusing to get up off the couch considering the fact that it took you almost 15 minutes to get comfortable now that you were getting bigger.

He rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up off the couch, mumbling something under his breath about not being able to enjoy a day off. “Look, whatever you’re selling, we’re not interes…ted…-” He trailed off as the door was opened and an excited Hongjoong stood there holding a pastel pink bag with even more pink tissue paper sticking out of the top. “What are you doing here?” Chan asked, looking down at the bag and then back up at Hongjoong who was still wearing the biggest and brightest smile, looking past Chan to spot you.

“I came to see my honey.” Hongjoong stated as if it were a known fact that he was going to drop by, but neither you or Chan knew he was coming, but for you, it was a welcome surprise. “Can I come in?” He asked, and before Chan could say no, you were getting up off the couch to go meet him at the door instead. “You’re getting so big… In the most beautiful way, honey.” He cooed, looking you over with heart eyes and pink tinged cheeks.

“Thank you, Joongie…” You whispered, feeling shy under his gaze, but Chans glare had tension filling the air. “Who’s the present for?” You asked, trying to change the subject, and Hongjoong took that as his queue to come inside, going straight past Chan and wrapping his arm around your waist to lead you to the couch.

The door was slammed shut, and Chans presence alone, even if you couldn’t see him standing behind the couch, you could just feel him there. He was hovering, and you could feel the annoyance radiating off of him in waves. “I was at the store and I walked past this outfit, I just thought it would look adorable on little honey pot.” He placed the bag down the floor in front of you and reached out to press his hand against your stomach, chuckling lightly when he felt the baby kick against his palm. “She still hasn’t settled down since you texted me, has she? Don’t worry though, I brought what you said you were craving, maybe that’ll settle her down.”

You heard Chan huff behind you, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth causing you and Hongjoong both to turn around and look at him. “Oh, don’t let me distract you. Just wondering why you’re buying clothes for my daughter and food for my pregnant girlfriend when I’m literally right here.” His tone was sharp when he said it, and while you had understood the hint, it either went right over Hongjoongs head or he just decided to ignore it.

“Well I already said why I bought the outfit.” Hongjoong said casually, leaning back on the couch and draping his arm over your shoulder, glancing over his own to keep his eyes on Chan. “And Y/N sent me a text earlier saying that she was kind of uncomfortable because the baby can't seem to sit still, so I thought that I’d bring her her favorite snack. I don’t see anything wrong with that…” He turned to look at you. “Do you?”

The air felt so thick, you could barely breathe, but truthfully, you didn’t see a problem with Hongjoong helping you out, so you shook your head no. “I really appreciate you coming over and bringing me these things. Thank you, Joong. It means a lot.” You gave him a warm smile, and he leaned in to press a quick peck to your temple.

It was a shock to you, but what was more shocking, what had you practically jumping out of your seat was the sound of Chans hands slapping against the back cushion of the couch. “I need to talk to my girlfriend and you-” He pointed to Hongjoong, not even caring at the moment just how rude the gesture was. “You need to leave.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a demand, and for the first time since Hongjoong had been there, it seemed like he was finally getting the hint.

That didn’t stop him from grabbing your hands and looking at you with his dark, almost black eyes, that looked at you so softly right now, with so much concern. “Are you going to be okay?” He asked, ignoring Chan completely at this point, his thumb brushing over your knuckles to try to keep your attention on him. You quickly nodded your head, and while he didn’t believe it, he couldn’t really do much either. “Text me if you need me, you know I’m always here for you, honey.”

Chan didn’t have to lead him to the door, Hongjoong went there himself, and you really wished that you could have gone with him because now you were the direct target of Chans anger, his eyes like daggers staring right through you. “You wanna tell me why some other guy is buying clothing for my child? Why he’s going out and getting my girlfriends snacks? I’ve been here all fucking day and you haven’t said shit to me! I could have gotten the food for you!”

It was jealousy, that’s all it was, and it was so hypocritically funny that you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh for fucks sake, Chan. You haven’t spent a fucking dime on her! You don’t give a shit about me or the baby. Don’t pretend to start now just because your ego is bruised.” You snapped back, and you watched as he shook his head, his eyes narrowing even more now.

“Is she even mine?! Why should I spend any of my money on her!? You’ve got Hongjoong out here acting like he’s the one who fucking knocked you up!” You blinked a few times, letting his words fully process in your head. He was not only accusing you of cheating on him, but accusing another guy of fathering his baby. Surely it must be guilt, knowing that you were right, but that didn’t make you any less pissed off.

“Do you ever think he’s acting that way because he feels bad?” You asked, and Chans face scrunched up as he let out a scoff. “No. I’m being serious right now, Christopher.” He was shaking his head, his body already turning to walk away, and that was the icing on the cake, the final straw. “He’s doing what you refuse to do! I never asked him to do that, he just did because you’ve been blowing off doctors appointments, you… you treat her like a mistake and a burden and she’s not even here yet! You don’t even acknowledge the fact that I’m pregnant anymore unless it’s something that you have a problem with! I needed some kind of fucking emotional support while I go through this, and you sure as hell haven’t been supportive at all! He was there when I needed him… When you decided that your job is more important than the child that you created.”

He stopped in the middle of the room, you could see how tense he was, his back muscles stiff under the tight black shirt that he was wearing. “Then why don’t you just go be with him since he’s better than me anyway?” He posed. You could hear how heavily he was breathing, you could see it in the way his shoulders rose and fell quickly. He was furious, although you weren’t sure who with at this point.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll text him. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” And maybe it was the heat of the moment making you say it, but deep down, you knew you didn’t mean it. Chan was the father of your daughter, he was the love of your life, and even after months of him blowing you off, the future that you imagined with your daughter still had him in it. You wanted to spend your life with him.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t. So just text him. Just fucking go.” He said flatly, storming off into the shared bedroom and slamming the door behind him. The last thing you wanted to do was go into the bedroom and try to talk to him, you didn’t even want to go in there to get your clothes, so you got up and walked out the front door, running right into Hongjoong who had been standing outside and listening to everything.

Chan watched through the blinds in the bedroom, watching as Hongjoong led you to his car, helping you in before gently closing the door behind you and then climbing in. He watched and he waited for you to climb back out, but then the car started backing up… And then it pulled off. He had just forced you into the arms of the very person that he was terrified would take you away… All because he was jealous, and he had gotten so distracted with work… He had fucked everything up. The future that he had built with you in his dreams, that he imagined and drew out… It was all thrown out the window and he had been the one to throw it.

Perm. Taglist : @whatudowhennooneseesyou @duchesskaren @mytherapisttoldmenotto @lovesunshinefelix @moon0fthenight @kurolils @maruskz @hello-2-u-from-me @mrswolfiechan @bunnychangbin

@his-angell @if-spearb @yomomma104 @lanatheawesome @facelesswrittes @grannyindehouse @cutie-wooyo @felixmainacc @syuuji @sanriiolino @yukichan67

@randomwimp @silentreadersthings @cutiespaghetti @furiousheartpoetry @its-hannjisung

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jinnie-ret · 5 months

Note

Hiii can I rq a skz x 15 y/o trainy were she acts v gen z n stuff?

generation z

aka 3 times Y/N left the boys feeling old

stray kids x reader (platonic)

genre: fluff, crack

content warnings: none

word count: 1.2k

summary: she's the youngest of the group and the boys can't keep up with her internet slang

Ok first of all I'm sorry my mind got jumbled and I wrote this as the ninth member instead, but if you want to you can still read it as a trainee friend :) also I tried so sorry if you find this cringe lmaoo

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

1) Slay

Y/N was currently on a VLIVE with danceracha, not that she was a part of it, but she was the best hypeman around, both the boys and Stays knew this. They were practicing 'Wow', the danceracha track and Y/N was obsessed.

"Wow, wow, wow!!" Y/N shouted along with the song's chorus, comically jumping up and down in the back of the room and waving her SKZ lightstick around. It was quite the scene, Stays laughing in the comments at her enthusiasm whilst admiring the boys dance.

As soon as they finished dancing she cheered loudly for them, handing them their water bottles and reading the comments from Stays.

"'Y/N is the best hypeman', duh!" Y/N jokingly pulled an obvious face at the camera as she continued reading comments, Hyunjin sitting next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"'Y/N is so me'," Y/N read out and smirked, "hey Stay..."

"Oh lord," Hyunjin moved away, already anticipating that their maknae was going to do something that would disturb his ears. And he was right to do so.

"I AM YOU, I SEE ME IN YOU-" Y/N sang loudly at the top of her lungs, before Lee Know muffled her shouts with his hand.

"Aigoo, our Y/Nnie is so loud," he patted her head too, a condescending smile on his face.

"Yah hyung! You're normally the loudest! Let her be hyper!" Felix giggled, pushing Lee Know's hands away from Y/N.

"Yeah, Stays think I'm funny!" Y/N stuck her tongue out as the boys and her sat around reading the comments again.

"Go on then, give us a joke, Miss Comedian," Hyunjin poked her cheek.

"Ok, Lee Know your hands smell like cat litter," Y/N shrugged her shoulders and said bluntly, making danceracha burst out into laughter and Lee Know get up to chase her.

"That wasn't even a joke," Hyunjin giggled.

"It was a diss," Felix laughed along, the other two still running around the room. It was too much for Stays to handle, this moment going into many fan compilations in the future.

"Hey, hey Stays," Y/N stood in the middle of the room, fighting against Lee Know as he tried to drag her off screen.

"Hey, Stays, all around the world, you make Stray Kids SLAY!!" Y/N cheered and then squealed as Lee Know lifted her into the air.

"What-" Hyunjin facepalmed, shoulders shaking as he laughed.

"I'm gonna have to use that one," Felix nodded as he giggled.

2) Gyatt

Y/N was currently recording her parts in the ROCKSTAR album, entering the studio with an iced coffee in hand.

"What's poppin?" she matched Han's energy as he laughed and repeated after her, Chan and Changbin shaking their heads with small smiles.

"Ok, Y/N, we're recording Megaverse first, you ready?" Chan pressed the button to speak so Y/N would hear him once she was in the recording booth.

"Aish, my ears!" Y/N jumped at how loud his voice was and ducked down to crouch on the floor, making the staff laugh with the members.

Soon she began recording a small rap part which was new for her, she was part of vocalracha and so was used to singing on their tracks.

"Ok, Y/N, do the same again but just a bit louder, like you want the world to hear your message," Changbin leant over Chan as he gave some advice.

"Ok, ok, I got this," Y/N told herself, "GYATT!" she randomly shouted, before continuing to nod, not hearing or looking at the looks of confusion and amusement spread across the faces of 3racha.

She finished recording her rap part successfully and exited the booth, the boys praising her but they only had one question on her mind.

"What was that you shouted?" Chan rose an eyebrow at her, grinning.

"I shouted a lot of things, you told me to shout my rap," Y/N shrugged with a confused smile, hands resting in the pockets of her hoodie.

"Don't play dumb," Changbin pointed out, messing her hair.

"Ohhh," Y/N realised and laughed, "hey Changbin, just start walking over there for a second."

"Why?" Han laughed from the sofa, wondering what the maknae was up to.

"Just do it," Y/N further prompted and so Changbin sighed and nodded.

"GYATT!!!" Y/N shouted once again, as she very obviously looked at Changbin's butt.

"Omo," Chan covered his ears and laughed in shock.

"Understand now?" Y/N laughed.

"Not really, no," said poor Changbin, who had turned around in shock and didn't see what happened. It was often they didn't understand their maknae's slang words.

3) Rizz

Stray Kids were currently filming for Teen Vogue, taking part in the Compliments Battle, a video that would quickly win over Stays' hearts as one of their funniest videos ever.

Hyunjin, Felix and Jeongin had already gone, the latter unable to take Seungmin's compliments no longer.

"Innie, I'll avenge you," Y/N whispered to her fellow maknae, who in turn grinned right back at her.

"Yah what are the maknaes talking about?" Seungmin have them an unimpressed look, folding his arms.

"Hyung?" Jeongin asked.

"Yeah?" Seungmin asked back.

"Shhh," Jeongin commanded lightly, making the members laugh. Y/N took her seat opposite Seungmin whilst everyone laughed.

"Y/N is so precious, and has the purest soul, Y/N is my... everything," Seungmin stared Y/N dead in the eyes as he spoke to her, the girl cringing.

"Seungmin is my puppy, I love him so much, cute puppy Seungie so talented," Y/N said sweetly, being over the top as she spoke.

"Oh my gosh," Jeongin wrinkled his nose hearing the words.

"I think I just threw up a bit," Seungmin said in English.

"Wah? Who said that about me?" Y/N gasped and laughed.

"I did. About how you just spoke to me," Seungmin laughed at Y/N's face.

"Yah give me a compliment," Y/N folded her arms.

"Ok, ok," Seungmin stopped laughing, "Y/N is my queen."

"Woahhhh, I'm gonna have that on replay," Y/N smirked. "Let's see... Seungmin is so handsome and sexy- I'm not reading that... Forget the tweets lemme use the Y/N rizz," she smirked as she pulled up her sleeves.

"Rizz?" Jeongin repeated after her looking confused.

"Hey Seungmin, what do you say we go on a romantic walk and pee on a lamppost?" Y/N smirked, the guys choking on their breaths as they were shocked at what she said.

"Y/N... What?!" Seungmin gasped.

"He reacted, he's out!" Jeongin clapped happily.

"No, let me keep going I've got more. He's a puppy get it? It's not weird! Hmmm, what else..." Y/N defended herself and began, as her leader shared nervous glances at the staff, but she didn't need to know that. "Hey are you my dog when I'm depressed?" perhaps Y/N left a pause for too long, "because I just wanna... give you... kisses... Guys stop looking at me like I'm weird!"

Jeongin covered his face to avoid her wrath.

"This isn't just Y/N rizz! This is puppy rizz!"

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @hanjiquokkaaa @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami

#skz #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fic #skz ninth imagines #skz ninth #skz ninth member imagines #skz ninth member #stray kids ninth #stray kids ninth member #stray kids 9th member #skz 9th member reader #skz 9th member

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hxjikonn · 11 months

Note

Hi, dear! Congratulations for the 143 followers! I hope by time you read this the followers has already grown past 143! You deserve that much of love because your writing is just so amazing! I hope more people can found your account and love it just like how I love it to the core!

If you don't mind, can I request a short scenario of Azul, Vil, and Malleus (separately) with a gn s/o who likes to wear his clothes in private? Like, when the character enters his room, he found his s/o wearing his dorm uniform and trying to mimick his usual action in front of the mirror. What will they do?

A/N: WAIT STOP THIS IS TOO CUTE 😭🥹♥︎ HOPE YOU LIKE HOW I WRITE THIS ONE!! sorry it took too long for me to respond too🥹

Play dress up

☆Staring☆: Azul Ashengrotto, Vil Schoenheit and Malleus Draconia.

Synopsis: Their reaction to their s/o wearing their clothes

Azul Ashengrotto

You poked his cheek again, getting impatient, he sighs and looks at you, you had a visible upset pout on your face that caused him to chuckle slightly “My little sea angel, can you hold on just a bit longer? I’m almost done” he pleaded whilst turning his attention back to the papers on his desk.

You groaned and sat on the floor, you were bored out of your mind waiting for him, “this is the third time you’ve said that…” you mumbled, “I know…I know, I’m sorry, I’ll be done shortly okay?” He cooed kissing your forehead. You looked up at his desk, he still had so much to finish… “Azul, maybe I should just go home…you look really busy and I don’t want you to rush if because of me” you stood up from the floor.

He pulls you closer to him causing you to lightly plop on his lap, “Noooo don’t leave. I promise I’ll be done soon…” he whines squeezing your waist with his arms. You yourself really didn’t want to leave aswell, so you nodded and promised you’ll stay.

“You can wait for me in my room, it’s much comfier there” he says and you lit up with excitement, there were only a few instances where you got to stay in Azul’s room, and be all by yourself…he never really left you there in fear you’d find his pictures from when he was younger.

“Kay!! I’ll go set the movie!! I’ll wait for you byeee!” You stood up from his lap and ran out, Azul could only laugh in both nervousness and adoration from your excitement. When you got there your eyes sparkled with curiosity, you didn’t wanna make a mess of course but you sure did take your time to look and search every corner of his room.

You did find his album and maybbeeee took pictures of his baby photos on your phone, when you had nothing to do and Azul still hasn’t arrived, one particular thing caught your interest. His closet

You skimmed through his clothes and found another pair of his dorm uniform, probably from his first year since it was a bit smaller than his new one, an idea popped in your head and you hurriedly changed into it. And yes you even included the fedora and scarf.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and giggled, though it was a smaller version, it was still a little big for you, you took pictures and posed while laughing. Then you start to remember Azul’s little habits and started acting like him.

You sat on his desk pretending to do paper work “Later Y/n, I’m busy with boring papers” you mimicked his voice as best as you could. Laughing at yourself in between sentences. You started to get in character more and didn’t notice the time passing. Soon Azul entered the room to see you standing in front of his bed facing away from him, a hand on your hip and the other holding a doodled contact you made.

“Hey you…yeah I’m talking to you octo-plush, make a deal with me…“ you said holding the doodled contract up to the octopus plushy Azul bought you… he laughs quietly before clearing his throat “I’ll make a deal with you instead.” He says suddenly, you turned to face him in panic, so much so that the fedora that was too big for your head slanted, covering your face, you quickly took off the hat and looked at your boyfriend who had the biggest grin on his face.

Unbeknownst to you, your face had already tinted red, he laughs at the sight. He walks up to you and cups your face in his hands peppering you with kisses, “You look cute in my clothes sea angel, do you wanna keep them?” He asks with the softest tone. You nodded with smile, “Okay, I’ll let you, but only because you make a convincing ‘Azul’ you might just fool the twins if you wanted to” he teased. Earning an eye roll from you,

He kisses your cheek once more and lets your face go “As much as I love to see you in those, I know they aren’t comfy, so why dont we both get changed and start the movie?” he took the scarf off you and hung it up, “Yeah okay, I was just going to do that before you came in anyways” you said while walking to the bathroom to change

“Are you sure? You seemed busy trying to persuade octo-plush to sign the contract” he teases again while taking his tie off, “Shut uuuppp” you whined in the bathroom, and he laughed, once you both got changed you cuddled up in his bed and watched the movie, and no the teasing did not stop.

Vil Schoenheit

You accompanied him in one of his photo shoots today, he wanted to see you there as he was posing for the camera, thinking you’d be mesmerized by his beauty. It turned to be the other way around, Vil is always professional, not distracted by eyes or mumbles and whispers from around him.

You were a different case though, since you were his ‘beloved potato’… “Okay I think we should take five everyone!” The photographer announced, Vil wasn’t at his best today, mainly because you flash him the prettiest smiles when he glances over to you during his photoshoot. Part of him also wants to blame that he’s tired but we all know that’s an excuse to go home early so he can spend time with you.

You meet him half way, jogging over to him with a water bottle, a mirror and and his make up bag in hand. He mouths a small thanks and drinks as you hold up the mirror for him. You stared at him with pure awe in your face “so pretty…” you unknowingly mumble out loud. Vil looks up from the mirror to meet your eyes, the look on your face was enough to make him erupt in a fit of laughter.

You tilt your head to the side, confused at his reaction, suddenly you were pulled closer to your lover and showered with soft feather like kisses leaving lipstick stains on all over your face. “Dearest, I love you, I do but sometimes you make me wonder if your really an enchantress who’s got a love spell on me” he jested, framing your face with his hands. “Hey even if I did you don’t mind right?” You joked back, smiling up at him.

He rolled his eyes and huffed, “Well, if you’re little spell kept me from focusing on my job then yes I do mind…” you felt him repeatedly pinch your cheeks softly, “What do you mean? I’m not doing anything…” you defended, “You’re being a menace by being so adorable, and you dont even know it!” he declared

You pretended to be offend with a huge dramatic gasp “Vil Schoenheit are you saying I’m a distraction??” You squinted your eyes pretending to be mad “Indeed potato, a very eye pleasing, heart wrenching distraction.” He laughs pulling out his phone to snap a picture of your kiss mark covered face.

“So, I need you to stay in my dressing room for the time being” he says as he posts the picture he took just now on his magicam’s story, “What?? But I came here to watch you work!” You whined, “Yes I know, But I’m never going to finish if I keep looking at you instead of the camera darling…” you opened your mouth to further protest but Vil cuts you off with a quick peck on your lips, leaving you defeated.

“It’s only until I finish potato, and hey you can even play around with the clothes and make up, play dress up while I work” he cooed, sighing you agreed with a nod, “Okay…I’ll wait for you in there…” he smiled and kissed your forehead again, you wanted to kiss him too but in fear of ruining his make up last minute, you just kissed his hand and mouthed a little goodluck before he walked back infront of the camera.

You entered his dressing room, deep down you knew it would be huge and grand, but NOT THIS HUGE AND GRAND, the rotating shoe wrack was something you thought you could only see in movies, not just that, bags, jewelry, fancy tops, clothes, even dresses?? Your boyfriend’s closet could put every mall out of business…”he’s right…I can play dress up here…” and so you did. (Right after you took off the kiss marks ofc)

Hours passed like seconds as you indulged in the variety of options you had in there, a particular piece did caught your eye though, you remembered Vil wearing it on one of his many many events, he looked so beautiful in it, it made you wonder if you could look as pretty in it as he was.

You put it on very carefully not wanting to damage it in anyway, it was a little big on you, but it didn’t look bad, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the outfit looked stunning, it felt so nice but you laughed thinking you didn’t suit it. “It’s pretty, but I think Vil wore it a lot better, I don’t do this outfit any justice at all” you said aloud, talking to yourself while you look down at the clothing.

“Now that’s just preposterous…you look amazing in it, it should be honored to be worn by you.” Vil’s voice suddenly came from behind you, you shot up and met his gaze in the mirror as he walked behind you. “Vil! Y-You’re done? Wow time went by that quick! I didn’t hear you come in…” you stammered, face heating up from embarrassment as he hummed in response and hugged you from behind.

“I was just about to..take it off…” you fiddled with your hands, “Why?” He asked, voice vibrating through you due to how close he is, “Well…it’s your clothes…aren’t you mad?” You asked him, “Why would I be mad? I’m the one who told you to play dress up…” he chuckled “Plus I had the privilege to see you look so lovely wearing my clothes….” He added turning you to face him.

“Oh please…” you laughed at his compliments, “No wait, I am mad about one thing…” the color drained from you as you looked up at him in fear, “the audacity…” he started, “You wiped off my kiss marks? How dare you!” He jokingly exclaimed, you looked at him deadpanned. “Well I couldn’t look pretty with kiss marks all over my face!” You said

“Hm…funny, My magicam’s story reactions said otherwise” he showed you, the picture he took earlier posted on his magicam’s story, “You posted it?!” You face once again grew tinted looking at all the views and reactions on his post. “I had to share the object of my affection to the world so they can adore you as much” he proclaimed. You turned your back to him, making a bee line to the small changing room with an upset face.

Once you came out, you were once again smothered in affection, “Will you take my love as an apology gift?” He asked, “Treat me for dinner and I just might take you up on that offer…” you negotiated, “fine, I get to pick the restaurant though…” he says “Mmkay, lets go I’m starving..” you held his hand as you both walk out of the dressing room.

Don’t worry, after that, Vil will surely take you back there to play dress up, this time with him present.

Malleus Draconia

“I wonder if he’s feeling better?” You asked yourself as you were waiting for Lilia outside the dormitory of diasomnia, your fae prince has recently caught a cold, normally Lilia would’ve been able to take care of Malleus himself like he always does, however since a certain someone (you) came along…Malleus always looks for you to come take care of him.

“Oh thank the 7 from above you came…” Lilia said his dorm uniform ragged and his hair a mess, “oh god what happened?? Are you okay???” You frantically asked, walking inside the dormitory, there you were met with large thorns engulfing the furniture, crawling up on the walls and some were even fighting the students.

“What the hell is going on???” You panicked, “It’s simple really, your boyfriend is getting crankier by the minute and if he doesn’t see you he’ll tear this dormitory apart brick by brick” Lilia started pushing you up the staircase to go to Malleus’s room in a hurry, Infront of Malleus’s door stood Silver and Sebek, you cant tell if they’re relieved to see you or scared for your well being…

“Welp! in you go, stay safe!” Lilia shoves you inside and locks the door behind you. Everything went by so fast you barely had processed it, suddenly a low grumbling noise interrupted your train of thought. “Oh shit…” you whispered, whilst gripping on to the basket filled with stuff you bought for sick tsunotaro.

You gulped before taking another step, when you did though, he seemed to sense it sending you another low growl, his back was turned so he couldn’t see who you were. Slowly you crept up closer behind him, you reached out to rub his back for him to know it’s you “Hey Mal—“ before you could even begin to, thorns flew out of nowhere grabbing your arm.

Good thing you were quick enough to dodge it, only sacrificing the cloth of your sleeve and a few scratches from the thorns. “Ah…” you winced and hissed at the little wounds in your arm. Malleus turned to you angrily, as he didn’t know it was his lover…the moment he found out though. His expression changed into an apologetic one.

The truth of it all was that he’d been waiting for you the whole day, but since you had classes and other stuff he had to bare being sick without you beside him. He quick but gently embraced you, pulling you into his arms burying himself in your hair and his tail coiling around your leg wanting to have more of your warmth. There you felt how cold he was… before you could ask him if he was okay, once again you were interrupted.

“I’m sorry my love, I didn’t know it was you…usually I’d be able to feel you when you’re near but I’m afraid this cold is getting the best of me… I’m really sorry” he apologizes, voice coarse and tired. You managed you wriggle out his arms a little, and you grabbed the basket you accidentally dropped on the floor, you took out the soup you made that was in a small container, thankful it didn’t spill.

You gently pulled away from the hug and cupped his face in your warm hands, “It’s okay…you don’t have to apologize, I understand, I get cranky on my sick days too…” you smiled up at him taking your hand off his face to open the container. “Here, I made it for you, it’ll help you get warmer so you’ll feel better…” you held a spoon up to his mouth and he obediently eats the food you’ve prepared for him.

You stopped after he finished half of it as you didn’t want him to throw up later, you were packing it away when he saw your torn up clothing, He stood up carefully and rummaged through his drawers for a nightshirt he could lend you, the least thing he wants for you right now is to get cold aswell. “Malleus what are you looking for? Get back in bed, I’ll look for it” you stood beside him telling him to rest.

Just then he pulled out one of his nightshirts and gave it to you, “Wear it, you’ll get cold” he said and coughed right after. Your heart softened “Hey…I’m supposed to be the one caring for you…dont do my job” you jokingly scolded as you helped him back to bed. He looked up at you as you put a blanket over him as if begging you to change. Part of him really was concerned that you’d get cold but a part of him just wants to see you in his clothes, to have his scent engulfed in yours. You sighed “Okay…I’ll go change and I’ll be right back” you gave in, kissing his forehead

His nightshirt was way bigger than your size, given that this man is literally 202cm. You went out expecting Malleus to be asleep but instead he was sitting up and looking right your direction, his face shocked, lovestruck, and at the same time tired…. “Malleus…I told you to get some rest” you hands fell your hips as you walked towards him. He pulled you in with his tail, once again wrapping his arms around you, his face buried in your hair and his tail coiling around your leg.

“I cant rest without you beside me…” he mumbled quietly, purring softly, taking in your warmth, you looked up at him smiling, you felt as if you were melting in his arms, you leveled your face with his, inching closer, he closed his eyes expecting a kiss on his lips, but was disappointed when you only kissed his nose…you laughed at his unsatisfied expression.

“My prince, I can’t kiss you there even if I wanted to, I have to take care of you, not get us both sick” you said, touching your forehead with his. He understands but he just really craves for your affection right now, grumbling once again, you were forced to lay him on your chest and shower him with kisses, (except for his lips). Now being satisfied he resumes his purring and cuddled closer to you.

“Wear my clothes more often…” he says, “hm? Why?” You asked, caressing his horns, “You’ll have my scent mixed with yours…that way they’ll know your my beloved…” he says before drifting on to sleep as you felt you get warmer, not even knowing that the reason why, is because of what he said. You didn’t disagree though, you loved wearing his clothes aswell, it makes you feel safe. Slowly your eyelids also grew heavier and the both of you slept in each other’s comfort.

———————————————————

A/N: Hi there, yes I’m back, I’m here, Ready to write again 🥹🤚🏻 please dont tear my soul in half I swear I’m back for real this time. ANYWAYS YKNOW THE DRILL DIDNT PROOF READ THIS ERRORS ARE BOUND TO SAY HI 💀

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland reaction #twst x mc #twst x yuu #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months

Note

I was re reading your pool fic bc it’s one of my favourite and I wanted to ask ab how Vil would go over giving you a make over when he finds out you’re a girl or how Vil, Rook and Epel would be involved?

Would Epel finally be happy to not be the only one being tortured by Vil with his 20084 step skin care routine?

Would Vil take you shopping and go full MUA?

Would Rook stalk you so Vil can find our about your current beauty regimen?

Also I love your writing so much

Aforementioned Makeover | Yandere Pomefiore

The thing about the pool party is that everyone knew you were a girl

You had told them straight up

But they either written it off or the time you casually mentioned it or it just wasn’t a priority

Rook most definitely already knew

More than willing to share one of his extensive photo albums on you when Vil finally decides you are indeed in need of a makeover

Whether it’s through Rook or forcefully making Epel ask or just interrogating you himself

He’ll go full steam ahead once he has an idea on your situation

But it gets tricky when he realizes Rook’s has a loooonggg list of things he notices and actively updates about your health and routine

It kind of makes him jealous

So he steps up his game a little and demands your presence in Pomefiore immediately

He might wait for exam season where everyone’s on edge

And far too anxious to debate whatever craziness he’s imposing on the Ramshackle Prefect

“This is just for the time being, no need to lose your head. Focus on your exams and I’ll focus on you. Got that?”

He’s reworking your entire life routine to fit around and with him in the center

Because Rook get’s to openly patrol and monitor you he’s not upset

He also expected it’d turn out this way but that’s a discussion for another time+

Epel though is at first willing to excuse himself

Leaving you to the proverbial wolves until he realizes what this means

“After the fitting, we’ll polish their elegance training, and then after that we’ll have to do a hearty meal otherwise they’d whine all day–” “I agree!”

“But they told me that tomorrow we’d go to the racing derby together…”

“Hm, well we’ll have to cancel that then. (Y/n)’s incredibly short energy and requirements for tomorrow can’t have them waking up too early to go to that. We only have time for what we’ve planned.”

“Yup sorry, monsieur crab-apple! Now please continue Roi du Poison!”

“...”

If he doesn’t actively include himself or remind Vil of his obsession with training him

He’s going to be left out

Lose more time to get close to you

Less chances for him to win you over

Not to mention the bonding and learning he gets from just aiding his upperclassmen in their endeavors

“Now this Epel is the perfect time to ask questions. In this condition their mental state is still intact, so any questions you ask isn’t immediately going to be met with mindless and incoherent blubbering.”

“But why would I want to ask questions? What good is talking to this piece’a crap gonna do?”

“Tsk Tsk pauvre malheureux you have so much to learn! Consider this prey the beginning of a larger scheme…a member of a conspiracy against notre chéri!”

“I see…”

Unbeknownst to him he’s prepared to use it all against them when the perfect time strikes

But it’s not wise to underestimate your teachers

Where do you think that urge came from?

“We at Pomefiore value beauty above most, consider it a privilege we want to highlight yours.”

“Though the urge to lock it away is palpable; for my Roi du Poison I’ll stiffle my urges just a tad longer!”

“Don’t expect to get too far from me I’m mo’ than set onya heart.”

“Epel!”

“I know I know, geez.”

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rogueddie · 2 years

Text

One small glimpse had all it took for Eddie to be completely hooked. Just one little glimpse, just enough to get him curious, just enough to get him in the store.

And then he'd truly seen Steve Harrington, dressed in a cute little sailors uniform. The shorts weren't anywhere near as sinful as the ones he wore in gym but... something about them being part of his uniform, something about the fact that someone is paying him to wear them, makes it seem so much more... dirty? Eddie isn't sure, something about it immediately riles him up.

They're so flattering too, somehow make his legs look better than the gym shorts did. When he turns around, bending over to grab something out of the lower cabinet...? Eddie is just glad it was loud, no one could hear the quiet noise he made.

Of course he'd teased him. How could he not? Former King of Hawkins high, reduced to serving ice cream in a slutty sailor suit.

"It's not slutty," Harrington had hissed, flushing bright red. "It's just a uniform."

"Mm, and you wear it so well."

It was just a short little visit. Got some ice cream, said a few teasing things, left within five minutes.

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about it. He'd always found Harrington attractive, who hadn't? He wasn't necessarily ashamed of that. But, even then, it had never been this bad. A fleeting thought that the guy looked good, sure. Waking up in the middle of the night, fantasizing about him in his work uniform?

A week later, he's sure that he's remembering wrong. He's probably just having a bad week, weirdly hormonal and didn't realize that he was into sailor uniforms... or something. Because there's no way Steve Harrington looked so pretty in that uniform that it warranted this much thought.

So, later in the day, he goes back to the mall. Picks up a new album first, heading inside Scoops Ahoy- he'd pass it by on the way back, it gives him the perfect excuse.

Harrington is serving, but he's turned around, talking to his co-worker. It gives Eddie an unfortunately good look at how the shorts pull a little too tight in all the right areas. It doesn't help when he shifts his stance as he talks, leaning forward a little more so his back almost arches, hips tilting to the side and-

Eddie ducks his head to stare at the album in his hand like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, shuffling so the girl in front of him still waiting at the counter blocks his view.

After he finally carries on doing his job, serves the girl so Eddie can sidle up to the counter with a smirk, he rolls his eyes. "Anymore inappropriate comments?"

"Yeah. You sure those shorts are the right size?"

Harrington frowns, looking down at said shorts. "Yeah?"

"Mhm. Sure, I believe you." Eddie glances at his co-worker.

She's a decently pretty girl, he assumes- but she's giving him a knowing look, pretends to tip her hat at him with a wink. Huh.

"Same as last time," Eddie drawls when Harrington finally stops frowning at his uniform.

He stares at him for a moment, squinting a little. He snaps his fingers when he finally remembers, grinning. It's almost criminal- to look that good on a normal day, but then also wear that sailor uniform and also be cute?

Someone up above must hate him.

"Here you go, that's $1.55."

Eddie reluctantly accepts the ice cream, hands him the money in far too many coins. It's the right order. "Is that the right amount?"

Harrington grumbles, annoyed, as he slowly starts counting each cent. Shakes his head when he's done. "5 cents short, sorry dude."

"Damn." Eddie pushes the ice cream back at him so he can dig through both pockets.

"Just- stop, here," Harrington holds the ice cream out. Eddie had very nearly wiggled out what felt like a quarter stuck in his pocket too. "You can pay me back later."

"You sure?" Eddie cautiously takes the offered ice cream. Hesitates for a moment- he's being nice, actually nice. Eddie isn't sure teasing is the best way to repay that but... he's not told Eddie to back off yet. "You just want cash or what?"

"What other type of payment is there?"

"Goods and services," Eddie wiggles his eyebrows.

Harrington splutters for a moment, flushing red again. So Eddie takes the opportunity to leave, not waiting for a response.

Whilst it's only 5 cent, Eddie has learnt the hard way that every penny counts. But he's been given the perfect excuse to come back. He's practically been invited back.

Eddie tries not to feel too giddy. Tries not to let it get to his head.

He holds out exactly three days. Three days of absolute hell! He can barely concentrate half the time, mind constantly wondering back to Harrington in that stupid uniform. The way he'd blushed, again, so easily. Seemed to almost welcome the teasing, too. At least, he didn't seem put off by it. It's almost too good to be true.

He'd been busy all day though. Band practice had run later than they'd planned and everyone else had things they needed to get to afterwards as well. It didn't go well for anyone.

Eddie is lucky he arrives at the mall in time, the stores only just starting to pack up for the evening. Most stores are completely empty- including Scoops Ahoy.

But it's completely empty. Not even Steve or a different employee stand at the counter, or shuffle around the tables cleaning up. For a moment, Eddie is sure that they must have closed up early and he really has arrived too late.

But then the 'staff only' door swings open, Harrington shuffling out. He freezes moments after he steps out, just as surprised to see Eddie.

"Hey," he eventually says. He even gives Eddie a little wave. "Sorry, uh, didn't expect anyone else in. Most of the ice cream is, uh, packed up. I don't... we might still have yours?"

"It's ok if you don't," Eddie offers, sauntering over to the counter. "I'll take a recommendation."

Harrington nods, shuffling over to start rooting through... things. Eddie isn't sure. He keeps up his bad habit of just bending over instead of crouching though. Eddie isn't sure whether he's happy about that or not. It is a nice view.

"We have, uh, the U.S.S Butterscotch ice cream? It's the closest we have available."

"That's fine. As long as it's not vanilla. How much is it?"

"Oh, right, sorry. It's $1.99."

Eddie roots through his pockets, dumping his change on the counter first. He's pretty sure he doesn't have enough- and he's right, he's just about 34 cent short.

"Shit. You got anything cheaper?"

But Harrington shakes his head again, already pulling out the scooper. "Just pay me back. It's fine."

Eddie raises his eyebrows. One time, 5 cents, isn't anything to take note of. A second time, now adding up to 39 cents?

"What if I can't afford to?"

Again, he shrugs off the question. "You're the one who suggested goods and services."

"You know what I was implying with that, right?"

He shrugs again, but he keeps his head down, focusing on fiddling with the ice cream scooper. He's blushing.

Eddie leans forward, onto his elbows, tilting his head. He pats the counter. "Come here then."

"What?" Steve tries to ask. But Eddie just pats the counter again. So Steve steps a little closer, leans on his palms though, keeping straight and upright. "What?"

Eddie looks over him for a moment, considering... it'd be worth the punch, he decides.

He grabs the little red tie of Steve's uniform, pulling him down. He leans up to meet him halfway, unable to hold in his pleased hum when Steve tilts his head to the side as he allows Eddie to pull him down.

His mouth opens just as easily when Eddie immediately deepens the kiss. The noise he makes when Eddie nips at his lower lip too- so high, needy. Irresistible. He just has to bury his hands in his hair, holding his head still so Eddie can take what he wants. Rewards Steve with a little tug on his hair.

He's panting when Eddie finally lets him go, blushing all the way down his neck, eyes a little glassy.

"That enough, sailor?"

Steve blinks at him for a moment, looking a little out of it.

"Steve."

"Oh, uh, yeah... right, yeah, that- yeah. I'll just, um. I'll get your order."

This time, Eddie let's his eyes linger. Doesn't bother hiding it when Steve looks back round, feeling almost gleeful at how Steve almost seems to preen.

... can you tell that I've been thinking about this post too much?

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #ficlet #scoops ahoy #altorprecanon

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myg-butterfly · 7 months

Text

Nothing New

Ot7! BTS x Choreographer! Reader (Seokjin x Reader focused)

Summary: You get hurt and have to find a replacement. You just didn't think that replacement extended to your relationship with the BTS members. Will they still want you when you're nothing new?

Tags: ANGST (sorry), eventual fluff, Injured!Reader, Fem!Reader, Bangtan are kind of assholes, this isn't really proofread sorry, I also don't know how this shit actually works with Idol groups so I'm just making shit up lolsies.

A/N: HI omg sorry this took FOREVER. I was gonna have this done this weekend but we went to go visit family so I put this aside omg, but it's finalllyyyy here! I hope this lives up to your expectations. Thank you for all the love on the teaser, and remember, comments and feedback are always soooo appreciated!

Taglist: @bangteezbaby @thelilbutifulthings @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @juju-227592 @kikz165 @plexcaffeinate

All the members had just gotten home from rehearsal, and immediately went to find you just so they could throw silly little tantrums about you not being there.

The way they were pouting reminded you more of kicked puppies than world-wide sensations.

"It's fine guys, I know someone who can cover for me until I get better."

"But we like your choreography better." Taehyung whines into your shoulder and you pat his head in comfort.

"It's just a month or two, Tae."

You had broken your leg about a week ago, and consequently, you couldn't continue choreographing for the group until you were fully healed.

Which meant either the boys paused their learning, or you brought someone else in to cover for you - and you're all aware that pausing isn't really an option.

"But I'll miss you." Your boyfriends were overly dramatic, acting like you were leaving even though you all lived together.

"You'll still see me at home, it's not like I'm dropping off the face of the earth."

He huffs into your shoulder and rolls over so he's sitting next to you normally now.

"Anyway, how have you been? Have you felt okay?" Seokjin sits down on the other side of you and you feel yourself growing a bit shy under his caring stare.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

•••

"Hi! Thank you so much for covering for me. We're on a reall-"

"Save it, it's whatever. I always told you you'd need my help again at some point."

You don't like the implications in her tone but you pass it off with a small chuckle.

"Okay, so they already know 2 out of the 5 numbers for this album, and we were in the middle of learning the 3rd one. I taught it to Hoseok in advance so he can take over for that one. So you wouldn't need to be at the studio until next week. I'll send you the videos I took of the foundation of the other 2 numbers so you can learn it and then teach it."

She looked so uninterested in what you were saying, but you had to be professional.

You called her here in the first place.

"Kay, cool, got it. Also, can I get the guys' numbers? You know, just in case."

"Oh uhm, you can ask them when you see them next week… I'm not sure if they want me giving out their numbers to people they don't really know."

"Well they're gonna know me soon right? Don't be greedy, trying to keep all of them to yourself."

She giggles but you can feel that it's not really one of genuine giddiness and you hope that your discomfort isn't apparent.

"I'll ask them when I see them later today."

You plaster on the best smile you can and she gives you an equally forced one back.

"Okay. Bye!"

She basically struts away and you're left standing there; maybe calling her was the wrong move.

•••

Yep. Calling her was probably the wrong move. But it depends on which side of Y/N you ask.

On the professional side, this is absolutely great. They hit it off right away, all the boys growing comfortable with her rather quick (something HYBE valued a lot), and she was great at her job. Talented, bold, confident, friendly, the whole package.

On a more personal side, this was putting you on edge. How suddenly, all the guys would talk about was 'Joanna said this a rehearsal' or 'Joanna invited us out to eat'. It was always Joanna this Joanna that, and you knew they were just excited to have a new friend, to have someone who shares their passion, you couldn't help but wonder if their feelings for you were simply out of excitement. And now that you're not the newest thing around, would they still want you? Would they still talk about you with the same sparkle in their eyes as they do with Joanna? It left a pit in your chest.

And — yeah, calling her was the definitely the wrong move.

Finally, a long-awaited date with all of you. They were filled with energy, talking and joking on the ride there, and you felt your heart growing lighter, you still had them.

They even helped you get off the car with all the gentleness in the world, helped you get in your seat and made sure you were completely comfortable.

The lightness quickly weighed down into something much heavier when you saw Joanna walk in and make her way to the table.

And the weight felt like it had been dropped to you feet when the guys scooted to make space for her, Namjoon even standing up to hug her and letting her sit first so she'd be in between him and Jungkook.

How long has it been since they hugged you with such happiness?

"Oh my god, Y/N, hi! The boys didn't tell me you would be here."

Something about the way she said "the boys" made your hands itch, almost as much as your throat itched to say 'likewise'.

"Welp. I'm here. Haha."

Dinner wasn't fun, to say the least.

Joanna was blatantly saying shit to embarrass you the entire time, and it even worse, your boyfriends seemed to be soaking up her every word, laughing whenever she pointed out something embarrassing about you when she knew you in high school.

"Yeah! And when we choreographed together, she would always forget her parts." She lets out a giggle and Hoseok laughs too: what's so funny?

"It was only once or twice." You groan, mostly to yourself, but Joanna hears it.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Everyone laughs at her words again and suddenly, you start to think that staying home was the better option.

"I've always said she has the memory of a goldfish. Sometimes it felt like I was doing all the work because i constantly had to step in and help when Y/N froze up."

She turns to you when she speaks her next question:

"How are you doing now that I haven't been here to clean up after you? Are you making Jimin do it?" She laughs and nudges Jimin, who's sitting next to her, on the shoulder, and he happily shoves back with a bright smile on her face.

"I'm fine, it's rare that I forget stuff lately."

She gasps in a dramatic manner, you wish she would just disappear already.

"You? Not wasting time in rehearsal? Because you forgot? That's unheard of!"

You hate the way pretty much all of the guys laugh at her words: they know how much work you've put into being a good choreographer. Why were they laughing at you?

Suddenly, you feel the person next to you pressing up closer against you: Seokjin.

You look at him and he has a soft smile on his face, but not towards Joanna; his entire focus is on you.

"You have a really good memory darling. We can tell you've worked on it." The knot in your stomach softens its grip after hearing Seokjin's words, and for the first time since you got here, your smile is genuine.

"Anyways, how'd you injure yourself?"

"Oh, we were doing some cardio and I tripped. Fell at an awkward angle and it twisted my leg. Haha."

Joanna laughs a little too hard at this.

"I've always also said that for a supposed dancer you sure are clumsy as hell."

Some of the guys giggle at her comment, and you look down at your lap: why were they laughing at you?

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seokjin sit up a little straighter, and you suspect he's gonna say something.

"Supposed dancer?" He raised a brow and to most people, it would've seemed like he was just egging onto the joke, but you and the rest of the table could tell that there was a serious undertone to his question.

It was no secret in your relationship with the guys that Seokjin had a specific soft spot for you – in a relationship as big as yours, its bound that all of you will have your weak spots for one another: Jungkook and Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung, Hoseok and Yoongi, you and Seokjin.

So you were more than relieved when he met your gaze from across the table; he knew you were uncomfortable.

And as everyone knows, he's not one to stay quiet.

"I just mean it's surprising that for someone so clumsy she went into the professional world where coordination is crucial."

Jungkook uses this point to tease Namjoon, and thankfully the attention is taken off of you. You catch Seokjin's stare again and this time it's accompanied with an apologetic smile and him reaching out his hand to hold yours.

As your hands meet on top of the table, you seem to be the only one who notices the look Joanna sends you at the display of affection.

•••

More days pass by and everyday they get home later and later until you're left going to bed on your own.

You'd made it a habit to wait for each other if one was out late, but it didn't happen often since you had almost the same working hours and when you went out, it was usually altogether.

You'd tried to keep that habit after your injury, but they were coming home later everyday, and you weren't sure you had it in you to keep staying up for them.

Especially on nights like this one, where when they do get home, you're dismissed almost entirely.

The door opens and you sit up, ready to greet them one by one with a hug and kiss, but most of them just mumble a "hey" or "hi Y/N" and walk straight to their rooms.

Only Jungkook and Seokjin genuinely acknowledge you, Jungkook giving you a hug and a peck on the forehead accompanied by a soft "Hi baby." before going to his room as well.

Seokjin also hugs you, but he picks you up while doing so: shifting you in his arms so he can carry you to bed with him.

As he begins to walk, your eyes meet and he sends a soft smile your way.

You barely start to relax in his hold when you realize that he's walking into your room, and you slightly panic at the thought that he's going to leave you alone in there.

Your slight panic turns into franticness as he sets you down and steps away from the bed.

"No! Don't-" Jin whips around at the sound of your voice, and you feel immediate guilt when you see his startled expression.

"Sorry, I- I know you're tired. Sorry, you can go."

Your attempts to decrease his worry don't seem to work, because he's already making his way back towards your bed.

"No, no. What happened? Whats wrong?"

"Its nothing." Seokjin gives you a stern look, you both know that lying to him is impossible.

"It's not nothing. Is it your leg? Or is it something else?"

"Its stupid" you mumble.

Noticing that you're unsure of yourself, he sits closer to you and brushes you hair out of your face in attempts to comfort you.

"Its not stupid if its bothering you" you feel your tears welling up again at how soft Seokjin's voice is. How soft he is with you.

"I just- I don't think I can be alone right now." You lean into his touch as you finally get at least some of the truth off your chest.

"You don't have to be. I was going to shower, do you want to join me?"

"I don't want to bother you."

"You won't."

"But my leg, I won't be able to stand for long."

"It's okay, we'll bring a stool in and I'll help you."

"But you're tired-"

"Never of taking care of you."

Something in your heart settles through the rest of the night, there is no other intention behind Seokjin asking you to join him.

He washes your hair and even dries it once you're out, he helps you get dressed and he goes to sleep holding you, and even if it's just for one night; all is right in the world again.

The next morning, Jin wakes you up and asks you if you'd like to come to rehearsal with the 7 of them. You're elated, to say the least. You knew it was a minimum thing, but your heart couldn't help but flutter at the thought that they wanted you around.

•••

Jin on the other hand, is pissed. Not at you, (never at you), but at his 6 boyfriends and how absolutely dense they could be, this being one of those moments.

He'd mentioned that you were coming with them, and all of them responded well: "I hope she likes the choreo!" "Yay! I want to hear what she has to say."

Their response to you tagging along wasn't the problem, no.

It was their response when he tried to tell them about how you were feeling that pissed him off:

"Wait guys, before we leave, I need to talk to you about something real quick."

All of them were attentive towards him immediately, so he thought they'd receive this better.

"It's about Y/N. And partially Joanna."

"Okay?"

"I talked to Y/N last night and she seemed upset. She didn't really want to talk about it but I'm almost completely sure that she's feeling left out, and I think it may partially be because of Joanna."

All of them begin to speak at once, until Taehyung's voice cuts through everyone else's.

"Why do you think it has something to do with Joanna?"

The 6 boys settle down and stare expectantly at Jin.

"Have you guys not noticed how backhanded all of Joanna's comments are towards her? Even when Y/N isn't present, she always makes a joke at her expense. And not to mention, we've been spending a lot of time with Joanna, much more than we've been spending with Y/N. I know if I were her I would feel hurt; being injured and spending the whole day cooped up alone while my boyfriends are spending all their time with someone who treats me like dog shit."

Jin wasn't sure what he was expecting the boys' reactions to be, but it definitely wasn't the outraged faces they were all giving him.

Jungkook is the first one to respond:

"I mean, I noticed the comments but I thought they were all in good fun? You know, since Y/N and Joanna have been friends for such a long time."

Taehyung cuts in next:

"And if Y/N is feeling left out, I mean I understand but what does that have to do with Joanna?"

Almost as if on cue, there's noise coming from the kitchen, meaning that you're awake.

Jin quickly gets up to go to you, but not before leaving the 6 boys with one final word, "Just pay attention to how she speaks to Y/N, you'll see what I'm talking about."

•••

It's hard to describe – the knowledge that you're being left behind without any obvious evidence surrounding you.

It's not something that everyone outside of your point of view might see, but you can feel it cutting through you deeply.

Not being able to do what you love, and on top of that, not being able to spend time with the people you love, it's a shattering feeling that claws through your chest.

Which leaves you where you are now: in the car with the rest of the boys on your way to rehearsal.

You thought that maybe being back in the studio would relight the spark that made the 7 men drawn to you in the first place, but even the car ride there felt cold and almost uncomfortable.

•••

The atmosphere changes the moment you step foot in the studio. It feels lighter, somehow. You don't know how to feel, not with the voice in your head insinuating that this lightness is because of Joanna; the guys are more at ease with Joanna than they are with you.

You usually hate being wrong: but now, you wish you could say the voice in your head was being irrational, yet you can't. Not when you turn around and see everyone besides Seokjin and Yoongi - who are off conversing to the side - gathered around Joanna, happily talking to her.

When did they stop looking at you like that?

Finally, she takes notice of your presence and makes her way over to you.

"Y/N, girly! Hey! Are you here to learn?"

You don't respond, confused as to what she's trying to ask you.

"Ya'know? Learn from the best! We've been so productive with this number."

She responds like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and you almost feel offended at what she's insinuating.

"Oh, um- I'm here to see what the guys have done."

Joanna blinks at you, as if your answer threw her off, before continuing.

"Oh. Ok then. Cool! And are the boys cool with that?"

You can tell, she wants this to sound passive aggressive. Kind on the surface, but a clear jab at your insecurities.

Jungkook quickly cuts in;

"Of course. Why wouldn't we be cool with that?"

Joanna stutters through her response, being caught off guard by Jungkook as she thought no one had heard her remark.

"Oh! I don't know, you might get distracted? You know?"

"We'll be fine."

This time it's Jin who answers, and even if it's a little selfish, you're glad that his tone towards Joanna is automatically cold.

"Okay thennnn!"

She turns to you:

"But if you start being a distraction I'll have to ask you to step out. Heh, step out. That's funny."

She giggles at her little joke (at your expense), and makes her way into the practice room.

Rehearsal continues as usual, and you feel a bit lighter as the boys all make jokes and include you while they stretch and warm up.

They start to run through the choreography, and your heart swells with pride seeing them dance; all their hard work really does pay off.

As much as you wish to get up and dance with them, or even get up at all, you know you can't. But just seeing them perform will do.

Once they finish, you start to clap and Jimin and Jungkook turn towards you with a playful vow.

"Its looking really good guys!"

All of the boys respond with a 'thank you' and a smile.

"I do have a couple pointers about some things I noticed-"

"Okay, let's run it again!" Before you could finish your sentence you're cut off by Joanna's squeaky voice.

Thankfully, Hoseok cares about what you have to say, and the rest seem to agree as well.

"Wait, I wanna hear what Y/N had to say."

"Yeah! It's felt weird learning a brand new number and not having any of your input on it."

"Y/N, go on." Seokjin is the one who speaks last, and the look in his eyes tell you that things will be alright.

"Ok, so first thing make sure you guys are agreeing on your directions, make sure that it's either a complete diagonal or if its a slanted move so you all move the same direction-"

"Oh yeah, I explained that to them already, they know." You're once again cut off by Joanna.

You use this as a chance to tease the boys, as you always normally.

"Oh, then why are y'all making that mistake huh?" Your tone is playful, and you see Hoseok step towards you with all the intent of playing along, when a gasp coming from your right stops you both.

"Did you come in here just to criticize?"

Of course it's Joanna.

"Wha- no. I was just teasing them. The dance looks grea-"

"I told you you were gonna distract them, and what did I say I was gonna do if you got them unfocused?"

"I didn't mean to, I was just giving pointers-"

"I've been teaching them for the last few weeks, I know what they need to focus on right now."

"But I know that it can look cleaner than it did right now."

"Well this is my choreography! I know what's best! You don't get to come in here and just start shitting on my work because what? You're jealous?! You think you're better than everyone else?!"

You're taken aback when Joanna starts to scream at you, so much so that you try to step back, completely forgetting that one of your feet is injured.

As you place your foot down, a soaring pain strikes from your foot all the way to your thigh. A sob escapes you and that's when Jin's protective nature kicks in full force.

In the blink of an eye, he's crouching next to you and picking you up while everyone else in the rooms stands frozen in place.

The ice is shattered when a wail comes from somewhere else in the room: it's Joanna.

Everyone's head whips to her direction, but for very different reasons.

Jin, for one, is beyond disbelief that she'd go as low as fake crying to get the attention back on her.

The rest of the guys seemed concerned, but not because of her. Rather because they just saw her true colors, how Jin was right, how they'd neglected you.

Seokjin picks you up and rushes out the door, leaving everyone else in the room frozen.

•••

You don't really process anything that happens afterwards. You just know Seokjin is with you as you go to the doctor to get your foot checked out, and that's enough to push you into a state where you know you can space out.

You couldn't comprehend it, how you were hurt and the rest of them weren't there.

Did they even care you were hurt?

It didn't make sense, that you were asking yourself this. When had things gotten this bad? How could they have let thing get this bad? It left you aching more than your injury, and you think that shouldn't even be possible.

When you get home, you find all the boys kitchen, a mess everywhere -much to Jin's despair- attempting to decorate what you assume is a cake. They're all focused to the point where they didn't hear you come in, and if they did, they're really good at acting like they didn't. You want to hide in your room, maybe ask Jin to hide with you, play into their ignorance, but the petty part in you is much quicker.

"Joanna doesn't like cake."

You speak without thinking about it first, and it's clear that none of them were expecting a comment like that, not even Jin, because their heads whip around instantly to you.

You panic for a little, thinking they'll get mad, but Hoseok and Yoongi start laughing at Namjoon's terrified face, at the maknae line looking like they're deer in headlights, and at Jin's round eyes.

Before you know it, They're all running up to you, and Seokjin has to grab you by the waist to make sure they don't knock you over.

They all speak at once, and you can only make out some things like "are you okay? what did the doctor say? im sorry." What cuts through all the rambling is Namjoon's smooth voice, sounding a bit exasperated as he speaks: "The cake is for you Y/N. We were making the cake for you."

Oh.

"Joon! You ruined the surprise!" Jimin stomps his feet, but you know he's not actually upset.

"Well we couldn't just let her think that we were baking a cake for fuckin Joanna!" Namjoon defends himself.

Yoongi steps in front of the two and turns to you, "It was supposed to be a 'Surprise / I'm sorry / We love you / Get well soon' cake but you got here before we finished."

His genuinely dejected demeanor makes you giggle, he looks like a sad cat.

"It's okay-"

"No it's not. Cake or not, we're all really sorry- hold on, we should sit down for this." Jungkook grabs your hand and leads you to the couch, the rest following suit.

You all sit in silence for a second before Hoseok speaks up:

"Well I guess I'll start." He sits up a little straighter so he's facing you directly, and you feel nerves run through you: was he upset? Was he going to scold you?

The guys seem to notice how you tense up, because Hoseok's face falls a into a small frown, while Jungkook scoots closer to you and Jin places a hand on your thigh.

"Y/N, I am so so sorry for the way we've been acting, and the way we haven't been acting. You got hurt under our watch, we should be the ones taking care of you, no questions asked, and we've failed to do that. There's really no excuse for how inattentive we've been. In our heads, or at least my head, I didn't really see you all day, so I thought that everything was okay because I still got to wake up to you, I still got to come home and feel comfortable knowing that you were here: we had your company. But I failed to return that company, we all failed to give you the bare minimum, and I truly am so sorry."

For the time you've know Hoseok, you've only seen him cry once or twice, so when you see tears start to fall from his eyes, it shakes you up and down. Before you can go console him, Jimin speaks up from where he sits beside Hoseok.

"Hobi's right, Y/N. We didn't pay you enough attention. We were too worried about ourselves to consider how our actions looked to you. The whole thing with Joanna, we did spend a lot of time with her, but even then, all we did was talk about you. Not in a bad way, obviously, but you just always came up in conversation. I don't know why I thought that talking about you would translate as 'we're still giving you our attention' as if you could read our thoughts or something. But again, we were selfish and careless, and I can't apologize enough for how we acted."

You appreciate Jimin's attempt at lightening up the mood, and you appreciate his words overall.

The next hour goes by in the same manner. The boys apologize one by one, not to just you, but to Seokjin as well, and before you know it, there's no one in the room that isn't crying, all of you a teary and snotty mess.

"We love you so much, Y/N. Please let us make it up to you. I love you so much." Yoongi's the last one to speak, and he finishes while walking up to you and bowing at your feet.

The rest of the guys join him, even Seokjin, and you don't know what else to do except throw yourself on the floor with all of them and cry.

The night ends with all of you cuddled up on the floor, until Namjoon and Jin make you all get up so you could go lay down properly.

They guys don't let you walk, no, Jungkook carries you while Taehyung and Jimin squish at his side in an attempt to stay close to you.

You all manage to squeeze into a single bed with you in the middle, hands everywhere trying to keep you close.

You feel warmer than you have in weeks, and meanwhile the guys do have a lot to make up for, with arms wrapped around you and sweet nothings floating in the room, you think this is a great start.

#bts #bts fic #bts au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts hurt/comfort #bts ot7 x reader #bts poly #bts fanfction #bangtan

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randombush3 · 1 month

Text

revocate animos (with or without me)

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two, part three, part four

the second half of this part (it didn't fit in one post lol)

words: it's over 14k. i had lots to say.

summary: the final part, which originally had a different ending but i was told it was evil so i changed it.

warnings: it's mainly just sad, there's a bit of smut though

notes: i could give you so many excuses as to why this is being posted now but no one wants to read that so i'll just say sorry x

anyway, i got very lost along the way at points and had some serious plot crises that had me tearing my hair out. i researched children's behaviour to the point of needing an honourory qualification, and i spent the last three hours ignoring my girlfriend while i finished this off.

for as much as i put these two through (and myself tbh), i'm sad to finish it off. BUT ALSO NOW IM FREE.

have fun reading! and sorry about the length of it

London smells of dirty rain and exhaust fumes, of a homelessness crisis and inflation attempting to impersonate that of the Weimar Republic; greyish streets, cracks in the pavement, thousands of spices from all over the world. Grubby patterns, hidden by the smudging of millions of bottoms, coloured poles that used to match the train line but no longer do. You breathe it all in, eyes closed as the motion of the underground jerks you sideways, the train leaving London Bridge just as you left Barcelona. Without looking back.

You had laughed when they told you they’d send a driver to get you from the airport. The luxury of some shiny black car held no appeal when compared to the familiar Northern line, its blackened route well-travelled and your own brick-road home.

Part of this choice to ‘slum it’ is borne of your desire to return to the past; a time before the fame and the fortune, when camera flashes came from your parents’ Sony Cyber-shot and not paparazzos with a hunger to splash you across the front page of a slimy gossip magazine. There was no Alexia, then. The extent of Spanish in your life was Anya studying for her A-levels, and you’d spend time writing songs without it feeling like pulling teeth. Without having to relive some of the worst moments of your life.

Those hadn’t happened yet.

God, you were so naive then back then.

Your London shows are in Wembley. Two nights, two journeys through your album, through your heartbreak. Both are sold out.

“See it, say it, sorted,” you mouth along to the voice, pushing the handle of your suitcase upwards, rising from your seat. The doors of the tube swoosh open, the yellow line of the platform attacking your tired eyes as Highgate station is revealed to you. You hear a whisper of ‘is that Y/n L/n?’ but you don’t turn around.

The wheels of your suitcase gurgle against the bumpy pavement leading up to your house, but they grow quieter as you approach. They must sense the tension, glad to have the smoother surface of your driveway to move across as you force yourself to continue walking forwards.

A woman is standing on your porch. Her body swivels around as she hears you stop just behind her.

Leah takes in the sight of you, deciding that you definitely did not enjoy Barcelona. “I was just about to ring the doorbell, but I guess you wouldn’t have answered the door anyway,” she says with an awkward chuckle, not sure if you want to talk about how rough you look. You cried the entire flight, and refused to contact anyone once you had landed, hoping they assumed your plane had crashed and you had drowned somewhere in the English Channel.

“I got here in the morning.” Your voice is unused. It croaks, shattered.

“Let me get your bag?” asks Leah, rather firmly, leaving you no room to decline her request before she has stepped off the porch and into your personal space. She looks up at you, wondering how you manage to look so beautiful even now, hand blindly reaching out for the hard shell of your suitcase as she stares. “How’re Nico and–”

Your lips silence her before she is finished. Leah freezes, surprised this is the moment you have chosen to kiss her.

But she misses you as soon as you pull away.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and she cringes at the self-loathing that drips from your words. A tear rolls down your cheek, but you are unsure whether it falls because you have kissed her or because you want to kiss her again. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You must have argued with Alexia. Leah’s realisation weighs heavy on her heart. Something has to have happened for you to have made your move, because Leah had been starting to accept the idea that you were still in love with your ex and she was nothing more than a friend. She had been looking forward to your concert tonight, in all honesty, and was excited to see you again, glad to have you in her life in any way, shape, or form.

“Because,” she starts hesitantly, “because you didn’t like it? Or…”

“Leah.”

“If you wanted to kiss me again, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Leah,” you repeat, the vowels almost failing to drop from the tip of your tongue. This is a dangerous game, but the look in Leah’s blue eyes tells you that she is happy to play it. “Leah, I… I shouldn’t have kissed you?”

“Is that a question?”

You blink. “I’m not sure.”

“If it’s a question, I’d say that the answer is the opposite. And that we should go inside.” She slides her hand over the metal handle of your suitcase, warm skin covering your fingers where your grip is still curled around it. “But only if you want to.”

Do you want to?

You value your friendship, you really do; Leah has been there for you many times since you met her, never asking too many questions. She means something more than what you crave from her, and doesn’t deserve to be the woman you use to detach yourself from reality.

But Leah is looking at you with desire that has been missed, relentlessness promised by her toned muscles. Leah is looking at you as though you are the only star in the galaxy or the sun on a rainy day. Leah is looking at you like she wants to devour you, and you, with no soul left to give, resign to letting her have your body.

“This won’t change anything, right?”

It’s a mean question. You know that.

“Course not,” Leah lies.

You let it convince the both of you.

Pink glitter covers the dining table at one end, and shiny green stars are scattered on top of the brown grain of the wood on the other.

“She might be at soundchek,” Alexia explains to Nico, who is finished with his Mother’s Day creation and is now intent on FaceTiming you to show you the card he has made. “And cards are supposed to be a surprise. That’s why we made envelopes!”

“But you said my card should be put in a museum,” he replies with a frown, his nose crinkling in confusion just as yours does. “So we show her now.”

“Mi amor, that’s not how it works,” laughs Alexia, reaching out to ruffle his hair. With Elena settled comfortably on her healthy knee, gleefully pushing piles of glitter around so that it mixes with the glue smeared on her card, it is safe to say that this year’s cards are going to be successes. “Mama has promised to call when she gets home, and you can tell her that you have a surprise for her. That will build up the excitement, and make it even better when she gets to open it.”

Your son has become a cynic. “And when will that be?”

“Mother’s Day is on the 19th, so we have three days to wait.” You have purposely chosen a chartered route to Tokyo that flies via Barcelona so that you get to spend the day with your children before your fortnight in Asia to end the first half of the tour. “Do you want to write the words out for Lela once the glue has dried?”

“I don’t know what Lela wants me to say,” he explains with great concern, turning to his sister with a very serious expression. He speaks to her in English, because he knows that this card is for you. He understands that there are two Mother’s Days, though he thinks it’s because he has two mothers, and that Alexia’s day is in May. When Alexia opens her mouth to speak, Nico is quick to shut her down. “Calla, Mami, no sabes nada de inglés.”

Your legs slam together but find no available route with Leah’s body in between them.

It feels… good.

Liberating.

You haven’t brought her into your bed, which she notices but doesn’t comment on. It’s excusable to be on the sofa, to have stayed downstairs for the hours she has spent trying to make you feel better, because the clock has only just ticked its way to lunchtime. You laugh to yourself at the thought of that, amused by the notion that you have already eaten.

Leah is curious when it comes to you. That much you had expected, having been aware of her lingering gazes long before the sores on your heart had calloused into tougher muscle. She has been waiting for this resiliently, and you present yourself to her as though you are a new toy she finally gets to play with. She kisses you slowly at times, to memorise the warmth of your tongue or the jut of your chin, but she often grows impatient, wanting nothing more than to end her torture and find out what it is like.

What is it like to have a woman like you? To wake up next to you, kiss you, touch you?

How does your mind work? What do you smell like just after getting out of the shower? Does your accent ever slip, or is it really that posh?

The air in the living room is hazy now, and your eyes close in bliss as you let your sweat seep into the grainy fabric of your white sofa. Leah doesn’t crawl into your open arms as you assume she will.

She wipes her mouth.

Although Leah has enjoyed this very much, she knows that this instance has not been you allowing her to start to love you. It has been for her to help you forget how much pain you are in. Somewhere deep down, she cares, but she doesn’t try to search for the emotion.

“So,” she says with a giggle, as if you are two teenage girls, best friends who have decided to kiss so that they can practise for the real thing, “do I need to send an apology present to your makeup artist?” Sitting back on her knees, she swipes one hand down to pluck her t-shirt from the floor, pulling it on top of her naked body before sending you an exaggerated smirk and prodding the developing bruise on your neck.

“Fuck,” you groan, batting her hand away. “I completely forgot I had that thing tonight.” You also need to call your children before Alexia bans your name from her household (if that hasn’t happened already).

“That ‘thing’ being your concert at Wembley?”

“I’d have thought selling out Wembley is the norm for you now, Captain,” you tease, clearing your throat. “England have done it, Champions of Europe for the very first time.”

“You’re freakishly good at a commentator’s voice.”

“Gotten used to being my own commentator. Only Spanish streams in my house – even United matches!” You smile at your own frustration but it quickly sours as awkwardness drops on top of you. You bring your arms up to cover your bare chest, but Leah clears her throat with softened eyes and you no longer feel so exposed.

You feel safe.

“What happened in Barcelona?” You shake your head at her question. “That bad, huh?” she presses.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you tell her, grey clouds hanging over you as your voice darkens and lowers. “Like, at all.”

“I think you should. It’s better it comes out now than later when you’ve had lots to drink and no idea who you’re ranting about it to, isn’t it? And it’s just me; I’m not going to judge you.”

“But you know her. You know her friends.” Your hands move to cover your face. Leah can have your body, but you don’t want her to have your tears. “Thank you for caring, babe, but I think I’m going to handle this one on my own.”

“Well, you know that–”

“You’re always a phone call away.” You smile, tears sucked back inside you, bottled away in glassware you store in crates labelled ‘VERY FRAGILE’. Desperate to change the subject, you adjust your position on the sofa, sitting up. Leah tries very hard not to stare at the curves of your chest. “You know, Lee, I never thought you’d be that good in bed.”

…

Alexia is in desperate need of advice.

Her muscles contract and relax, the tissues pulling on her bone, which, in turn, pulls her. She is strung along, driven perhaps by her leap in recovery and impending comeback. She almost breaks out into a jog, but the church she has dragged herself to comes into view before she can gain speed.

She had not expected this from herself.

It’s nothing special to her, though she will admit that the architecture of the building does hold some sense of divinity, but the heavy wooden door is propped open and she is drawn inside.

The Sacrament of Reconciliation, Fridays, 17.00-17.30.

Alexia checks her watch, the golden links gleaming on her wrist, catching the sunlight that filters in through the glass windows.

She catches a glimpse of white behind the doors of the Confession booth, becoming acutely aware of how empty the church is. The curtain has been pulled back, bunched to the left-hand side carefully, as though the previous handler had moved with peace.

It can’t be that bad, can it?

It’s just like therapy.

Her feet carry her forwards once more, leading her into the wooden booth. It smells old. The cushion she kneels on is blue, she thinks, but she cannot tell because it goes dark once she pulls the curtain shut.

Alexia is not a religious person. Sure, she signs the cross before stepping onto the pitch, and, like most people she knows, she is baptised, but her faith is limited to that. When she tore her ACL, she spent evenings trying to pray, trying to force her to believe in Him. It would have been comforting to know that someone had a plan for her, was watching over her carefully with the knowledge of how it was going to play out. It was to no avail.

But somehow she knows what to say, and so she does.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” She recites the words like lines from a play, head bowed in shame as she writes her next sentences in her mind. “This is my first and, probably, my last confession.”

Silence.

She rests her hands in her lap, shuffling around to ensure she is not pressing down on her knee in any way that is harmful. It would kill her to have to push back her return to the pitch because of some stupid thing she has spontaneously chucked herself into.

“I messed up.” She laughs. “No, that is actually an understatement. I know this is a church and I really shouldn’t swear, but I fucked up. Father, I had Heaven in my hands and I threw it away as though it were meaningless. Was it greed? Was it greed that led me to do it?”

“Do what, my daughter?”

The priest sounds younger than she’d thought he would be.

“I had an affair with a woman whom I am certain I do love a little bit, but, by doing that, I destroyed a life that was perfect. Was it greed?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Was it temptation?” Alexia tries again, desperately. Part of her yearns for the priest to tell her it was the Devil so that she can shed the responsibility. “I love my wife. More than anything, I love her. I do not think my own life is worth living if it is not in service to her, to our children, to the smile she reserves for her favourite people. I… I didn’t attempt it, but I thought about killing myself.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “Only once, but I thought it all the same. My sister called me selfish.

“It’s just – forgive me – fucked, isn’t it? I got carried away. I got lonely, I was alone. I craved something to make me forget, to pinch the gaping hole in my life shut. I relied on it to make me feel better, and it did for a time. But now it has made me feel much, much worse.

“And I am sorry! I am so, so sorry. I have grown sick of the word; I’ve used it so much that it holds no meaning anymore. It doesn’t do my regret justice, nor my quest for forgiveness, and I’m really on that quest, Father, I want to stress that to you. I lost my temper and said things I should not have said – things I don’t even believe – but I did not mean them then, and I do not mean them now.”

“You are not religious,” accuses the priest, very gently. His voice washes over Alexia’s ears like a wave of warm saltwater from the Mediterranean, and she feels comfortable enough to swim into the expanse in front of her. “Our God is forgiving, but it is not His forgiveness that you seek. I cannot give you a prayer that will make her absolve your sins, because our holy words are not spells.”

“Father,” croaks Alexia. As her lips part, she tastes the saltwater of the sea, dripping down her cheeks as though the tide has come in and there is no other option than for her to be flooded. “Please help me. I don’t know what to do.”

The priest speaks, but she assigns the voice to someone else.

The first thing you forget about a person is what their voice sounds like. It lingers like a feeling you can’t quite name; distant, distorted, enhanced by fantasy.

Alexia does not remember her father’s voice.

The realisation is crushing.

She knows his words – they are her prayers – but, like Catholics do not know the voice of their God, she can no longer hear the voice of hers.

What would her father say if he saw her like this? On her knees in a Confession booth, backed against the wall with nowhere to hide?

This is not the girl he was proud of. Alexia, of course, is not that eighteen-year-old anymore; she hasn’t been for a decade. But, recently, the legacy of that unknown Levante player has disappeared.

Alexia is so very lost.

She does not know where she is in her own city. In her home.

She does not know her place in her life, much less her place in yours – if you will still grant her one.

She has not felt the thrill of football for months, has driven herself to Hell and back, and considered giving up enough to be on the brink of actually doing it.

She has seen countless meals hit the water of her toilet, never digested, never deserving of the very thing that keeps her alive.

She has counted your sacrifices, memorising the digits of an ongoing figure so that she can punish herself with the knowledge.

She has tried to forget English, tried to improve her English, and taken vows of silence.

She has cried and cried and cried until the only thing left for her to excrete is her hot, red blood.

She has searched for a way out of the maze. She has failed every time.

Alexia is lost without you, and she knows it. Everyone knows it, perhaps even you yourself. Do you revel in that fact? Do you enjoy it?

You have a right to watch her suffer. You do, you do, you do.

Alexia runs a hand through her damp hair, sweating as she sobs in the booth next to some stranger who she will never meet again. Her mouth is dry but her cries are wet and raw, and they scrape her throat as she chokes them out, losing her breath and falling silent only to catch it and begin again. The cushion burns her knees as though she is trapped in an inferno, the darkness blazing against her skin.

The priest talks to her for a long time, not letting her leave until she has calmed down. She sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her palm before softly pressing her thumbs to her blotchy cheeks to clear the final tears from them.

When he is finished, he instructs her to take a few deep breaths, which she does. “You are not entitled to her forgiveness,” he reminds her. He begins the Prayer of Absolution – he insists for the sake of closure – and Alexia walks away from the church no more than five minutes later.

She is still stuck in the maze, but she has restored that voice in her head that she knows will help her find her way out.

…

“So you went to church?” Olga asks with an amused smile, taking the first sip of her latte, relishing in the gentle burn of the liquid. She needs this coffee; she stayed up late last night because she knew Alexia has been struggling. There is nothing worse than being asleep when Alexia calls her for help.

“I have no idea how I ended up there,” Alexia explains, somewhat defensive about yesterday’s catharsis. “Confession is way better than therapy. There is too much accountability in therapy.”

“You have a lot to account for.”

She huffs out a breath, taking a sip of her own drink. “I know, Olga, but I cannot change the past, so what would you like me to do?” Olga doesn’t reply. The brunette parts her lips, but promptly closes her mouth when she sees Alexia’s slight discomfort. “Mama wants you to come to dinner tonight. I… I do too.”

Olga’s smile is big and genuine. “I’d love that,” she answers. “Eli is the best cook out of our friends’ parents. Everyone knows that.”

You’re in London, childless, and are watching the grand old Arsenal play (reluctantly, forced to by Leah if anything). Alexia has seen the pictures of you at the match on Instagram; she has already felt the frustration that you are most-likely never going to watch Barcelona play again unless it is to support the other team. Like clockwork, Alexia seeks to fill the gaping hole you have left in her life. Somewhere, somehow, the lines of friendship between her and Olga have blurred.

…

It takes just over a month for Leah to crack.

You appear in London every two weeks, attending meetings and events, but she has decided, once and for all, to see through your excuses. You come to London for her. She knows that, and so do you. Leah’s ego has not reached a size where she believes she is enough for you, but the facts (and Lia Wälti) tell her she is wrong.

Except, what Leah tends to leave out is that no matter how many times you let her sleep with you, she still is unable to access a certain part of your mind.

She has never been upstairs in your house because you always prefer to go to her place in St. Albans. She has never slept in your bed, nor woken up next to you.

You talk to her like she is still the same old Leah, the captain you befriended during the tournament of her lifetime, your entrance in her life intertwined with the ecstasy of winning the Euros. She closes her eyes and thinks of how you looked that summer; white England shirt, sunglasses pulled down over your eyes. Smiling, cheering. For her, she greedily claims to herself.

Sometimes, in her mind, you lift your sunglasses – you always seem to be crying when she pictures this – but Leah is only vaguely familiar with the timeline of your divorce. This is the issue.

There is a door that you have locked and refuse to let Leah find the key. It leads to heartbreak, to Nico and Elena, to a family you once had.

“I wish you would let me in,” Leah says one day. (The day she cracks.) She tears her ACL two days prior, something that makes you feel guiltily nauseous, and you have come to visit her. She knows that you had flown over the minute you had swapped custody with Alexia.

Your legs curl into your chest as you try to reduce the amount of space you are taking up on Leah’s sofa, cautious of her injured knee. Leah misses the warmth of your thighs, and wants to revoke her conversation starter instantly, pained that she has to even ignite the fire of this forbidden topic. “What do you mean?” comes your quiet reply, unwilling to disturb the peace of her living room. The peace of existing side-by-side.

“Exactly what I said.” Leah nods to emphasise her agreement with herself. “I wish you would let me in, because how do you expect me to love you if I don’t know you?”

She sees the bullet fly through the air; she sees the moment it hits you, the way you go rigid. Dead. Dying?

“It’s crazy because it usually takes years for me to feel about someone the way I feel about you, and I just… I just wanted to tell you that it’s okay to let me in. I want to hear everything, to know everything.”

“Oh.” What had you expected when you kissed her? “Oh, Leah.”

“You don’t have to apologise.” She assigns your guilt, the tears in your eyes, to your distance. Perhaps you hadn’t realised, perhaps it is a coincidence Leah has never slept in the bed you used to share with Alexia. Maybe you are unaware that Leah has never heard you speak Spanish, and doesn’t know a single thing about your life in Barcelona.

You’re a busy person, after all.

“No, no,” you dismiss quickly, shaking your head. Leah can’t help but wonder if the paranoid voice in her head is right; has she been reading too much into this? “Fuck, I am such a twat.”

But you don’t elaborate further, asking how she’s feeling, distracting her from your realisation about her realisation. Before Leah knows it, you are making her laugh harder than she has in a month, and soon, like most good things, your visit comes to an end.

Returning to Barcelona is a little weird.

You feel as though you have done nothing but check over your shoulder the entire journey, staring the past straight in the eye and wishing you could change it.

You hadn’t meant to make her fall in love with you. (But she has. Oh, she has.)

This week’s swap is no different; the same park as usual, the same pleasant weather to undergo an unpleasant task.

On the bench usually occupied by Olga, a different, blonder head comes into view.

“Irene?” you ask in surprise, wondering if she has been sent in Olga’s stead or just so happens to have brought Mateo, her son, to the very same park. You sit down beside her, somewhat pleased to not see Alexia’s henchwoman today. “Where’s the free childcare?”

The defender’s eyes narrow, as though she is debating whether or not she should tell you.

Irene has known Alexia for a long time, and, by extension, has known you for a long time too. She is calm, level-headed, and mature, much like Alexia. Except Irene hasn’t ever thought to cheat on her wife.

You are clearly in a lot of pain, and you have a right to be; Irene does not rise to your comment. “Olga has gone on holiday,” she states with practised neutrality.

“Ah, they’ve broken up.”

Eyebrows raised, she turns to you, breaking her line of sight that encompasses Nico, Mateo, and Elena. The playground is small enough, and very safe. “They were never together.” You wait patiently for her analysis of whatever the fuck was going on between them. “Olga said she wasn’t what Alexia needed. She’s on holiday with Carla, and I guess she is quite upset.”

“And Alexia?” You know Irene does not like to gossip, nor stir the pot. So you can be nosy about how she is doing.

“I think her ego was bruised, but she sees Olga’s point. She has been… better recently. She’s focused on getting back onto the pitch, and Jona is only saying good things about it.” Irene’s eyes brighten at the thought of her captain’s recovery, and her tone soars through the air. The entire team has worried for Alexia, spending their own nights tossing and turning, wondering if the old version of her will ever return. “I know you two don’t speak, but if you did, you’d get a glimpse of what it was like before.”

You can’t help your smile, and Irene does not make you feel pathetic for wearing it. “Good.”

“I heard you were in London?”

“Visiting a… friend.” Irene is not a gossip, you remind yourself. “I think I might have to stay in this country for a bit and let things cool down over there.”

She chuckles. “Whose heart have you broken?” She won’t tell Alexia, when Alexia inevitably asks about you, that you are seeing someone. Not that you have confirmed that to her.

“I’m yet to break it,” you tell her, sighing, “but I know I will, and that is much, much worse.”

“Hey, at least you have two weeks of being endlessly busy to keep your mind off it.”

Children change a lot in two weeks, so Irene then launches into an update on school, clubs, and everything else. She gets the information from Alexia, of course, who writes out a list every time you switch over. No one has ever handed you the piece of paper before, worried that her handwriting will be an unnecessary reminder of the pain she has caused you, but, for some reason, Irene does today.

You are not put off by the swirling Spanish in front of you, instead choosing to study it. You have spent hours in Alexia’s lap as she scrawls out football notes upon football notes, scribbling prompted by footage or, freakishly, her own memory. From the lightness of the indentations of the pen, you figure that Alexia is exhausted. From the half-finished sentences, you decide that she was rushing when she wrote this.

But, as much as you delight in your brief analysis of the evidence in your palms like Sherlock Holmes solving a mystery, you can’t ignore just how greatly you have missed the letters that swim between the lines (and the hand from which they were written).

Irene spares you your dignity by standing from the bench and checking on the children just as your tears begin to fall.

…

You take one last look in the mirror embedded in the sun visor, ensuring your hair is perfectly in place and your earrings match your cream, sleeveless turtleneck to poise you just between casual and smartly-dressed. A quiet grumble from the backseat draws your attention away from your reflection, though your last glimpse at your concealed eyebags and red-rimmed irises leaves you feeling a little dejected and mourning the days you’d actually get some sleep. (Or wouldn’t, smoking cigarettes on the balcony while talking Alexia’s ear off.)

“Mama, we go,” decides Elena with a huff, tugging on the buckle of her car seat.

It’s Nico’s first-ever recital tonight.

He started playing the piano in September, when his teacher at school had mentioned how he boasted to the children in his class that he was a musician: ‘if I am Catalan because my mami is Catalan, then I am musician because my mami is musician’. You felt guilty. His teacher says he is naturally talented, voice lacking surprise but praiseful nonetheless, and is proud to name Nico his youngest student at tonight’s show.

The bouquet of daisies you ask Elena to hold makes her look like a miniature carnival float, and she toddles into the venue by your side while you do mental gymnastics between the knowledge that Alexia will be here tonight and the nerves for your son’s performance. It’s nothing complicated, but you worry he will hate it. This is the only thing he does that is a nod towards you; his one deviation from his worship of Alexia.

“Mami!” squeals the walking flowers as soon as you make it to the half-full hall. You direct your gaze to the three rows your daughter refers to, every seat lined with either professional footballers or family. With a sudden rush of blood to your head, you feel out of your depth.

You’re not sure whether the hazel eyes that find yours help or worsen that.

“Keep it moving,” you mutter firmly, holding her hand so she does not make a break for it and tumble right over to the cohort of FC Barcelona and Seguras. Not wanting to get too close to them, you take your seat in the penultimate row, knowing Nico will not be able to see you over the grand piano set up on the stage wherever you sit. “You can talk to her later, sweetheart.”

She is in an obedient mood, most-likely intimidated by the tension in the air. You tell yourself it’s the stress radiating from the line of performers sitting on the front row. Nico stands on his chair, waving first to Alexia and then to you (it’s your turn with them so you are a lot less exciting right now), before he is lightly scolded by his teacher and the first child walks up the steps and onto the stage.

Five uninspiring children later, Nico is finally led up onto the stage. His teacher sits down on the piano stool and nudges him forwards. He smiles brightly at the room. You reciprocate, encouraging Elena to do the same to keep her engaged with an admittedly boring event.

“Bona nit a tothom! Jo sóc en Nicolau i tinc quatre anys i ara aniré a tocar ‘Brillia Brillia Estel Petit’.” The audience melts before him. “Mama, that means ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’,” he whispers loudly.

You send him a thumbs up. He sends you a grin back, before giggling as he climbs onto the piano stool beside his teacher.

Situated comfortably, feet dangling adorably far away from the pedals, his chubby, little fingers hit the ivory keys once, then twice.

You pray this goes well.

It does.

He plays with two hands, something you hadn’t expected, and Elena holds in her noisy yawn until after he is finished so she must have been invested in the performance. Your own hands sting after you clap with such prideful force that you are the loudest in the room, and the hoots and hollers from Alexia’s territory only make Nico even happier as he bounces down the steps and back to his seat to wait for the others to do their pieces.

After the recital has finished, you walk down the aisle separating the seats in half to get to Nico, daughter-less courtesy of a squadron of football-playing kidnappers.

“How was that?” you ask him smugly, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “I knew you would be brilliant, even when you were scared you weren’t going to be. Do you know how proud I am of you?”

“This much?” He holds his hand about thirty centimetres apart. “Mami says this much.”

When he widens his hands, you gesture something even bigger.

“‘Immensely’ is the word I would use.”

“Im-men-lee?”

“Es que nuestro orgullo llena una casa sin techo. Hasta el cielo.”

“Up to the sun,” you amend, ignoring the way the voice has made you stiffen. You don’t read too much into her misuse of the collective pronoun. There is no ‘our’ in ‘affair’.

Alexia’s hand hovers by your waist for a moment, muscle memory getting the better of her before she draws it back into her body. Nico gives her a matching hug, telling her how much he has missed her.

You try not to blame yourself for his derailed childhood.

“You were amazing, petit,” Alexia says, picking him up with one strong arm and settling him on her hip. You grip the wrapper of the bouquet you are holding. “Did Mama get you a gift?”

He peers at the daisies in your hand with curiosity. Shaking his head, his confusion deepens as he studies the bouquet you are extending towards him. “They are for Mami? Flowers are for love.”

“I love you,” you tell him, not trying to make a point but instinctively prickling in the presence of Alexia.

The silence is awkward.

A few metres away, whilst entertaining the sleepy toddler on her lap, Mapi is excitedly talking to Alba. “Y/n hasn’t killed her yet,” says the defender with glee, one of your admirers. The team respected you before, never questioning their captain’s judgement nor family, but when word got out about the affair amongst the older girls, most of them began to see you as more than Alexia’s wife. A new layer to your character was revealed; you are a strong, independent, and successful woman. Football nerds sometimes forget success comes in more forms than blaugrana kits. “They made such a beautiful couple.”

“They did.” Alba watches as you talk to your son, your eyes actively avoiding the woman in front of you. “Our mother has sent Alexia over there to invite her to dinner. It killed me to see her sit alone.”

You are too used to the feeling of eyes on you that you no longer notice the weight of people’s stares, but, if this were not the case, you would know that most of the heads attached to the bodies sitting in Alexia’s rows had been swivelled towards you for majority of the recital. Pity is never a desired emotion to have offered to you, but the Barça girls can’t help but feel that way whenever they see your forehead crinkle in an attempt to understand Catalan, presuming you only speak Spanish as you have more than enough on your plate. (And, as most of the players will admit, your children speak better English than them, so one can only assume that it is your main method of communication.)

“She’s a very good mother,” Mapi comments with a small nod, sucking a sharp breath in as she begins to sympathise with you even more. Not a day goes by where she witnesses the suffering Alexia’s idiocracy has caused – as Ingrid, her girlfriend, knows very well – and does not fail to scream in frustration about her best friend’s stupid mistakes.

“She’s a very good person.”

They fall silent as they see your head tilt up, jaw clenching as Alexia begins to speak to you.

“Can you hear what she’s saying?” whispers Eli to her daughter, equally invested in the conversation. “I knew I should have sent you; Alex is too socially awkward.”

“Mami, she is talking to her wife,” replies Alba, though she remembers what happened the last time Alexia and you had spoken and the outcome of that. Maybe that commences her increasing agreement with her mother… “I guess you– Are they coming over here?!”

Even you seem surprised by how your legs carry you towards the Barcelona clan, a step behind Alexia and Nico. Hesitant would be an understatement, but most of them are too preoccupied with congratulating the four-year-old they have come to watch to notice your tight-lipped smile and trembling hands.

“Hola,” you say shyly.

Eli pulls you into her strong embrace without missing a beat. “Te he echado de menos, hija.”

You try very hard not to burst into tears.

They take you to dinner; a plan you had known about but not envisioned yourself included in. Although it’s your fortnight, Alexia (through the conduit of Alba) had previously arranged to drop Nico and Elena over to yours before midnight.

You blow off your FaceTime call with Leah.

The restaurant is on the lower level of fine-dining. It’s chic, but it does not make your children feel unwelcome. The table is set for five places, though Alba informs you that the reason for this is because the reservation was made before she broke up with her girlfriend.

“Mama, what are you going to eat?” asks Nico, slipping back into his old life seamlessly, mixing his English with the Spanish he knows everyone can understand, his legs swinging underneath the table with an enthusiastic energy. He is still too young to pick up on how far apart his parents are sitting, or how you refuse to let your eyes linger on Alexia’s tanned skin, far too much of it shown off by the tank top she sports in the humidity of the busy restaurant.

You glance around the room, searching for those who have recognised you. Under the weight of at least four curious stares, you motivate yourself to enjoy your meal.

“Not sure yet, babe,” you answer. “Alba, do you fancy sharing something?”

“Yeah, of course.” The younger Putellas smiles. Alexia knows who has lost the war.

Dinner passes with light conversation centred on very neutral topics. No man’s land is clearly the children, and you had never expected to be so desperate to continue a conversation about school lunches until the other options are how Alexia had an affair with her teammate or that your song with her favourite singer is topping the charts and explicitly about being cheated on.

Although you and Alexia both watch how many times your wine glasses are refilled, Alba lets loose, as does Eli (probably to ease the stress on her heart that her girls force upon her). Their cheeks redden and Nico begins to yawn, Elena already curled into your side halfway between dreams and reality.

“Should we head out?” you ask it to the table, but the only functioning person is Alexia, really, and so you close your eyes to avoid having to make eye contact.

“I should probably get Mama and Alba into a taxi.”

“If you call one for them, I will call one for us?” Your suggestion is instinctive; an old habit reminiscent of many similar nights, back when there was love and happiness and a relationship that didn’t feel like walking on a floor made of broken glass. “Or did you drive here?”

“No, but you drove,” comes Alexia’s reminder. Internally, you face-palm. Parking the car before dinner seems like years ago; something feels different now. “But if you don’t feel up to it, I could drive you home. I haven’t had much to drink and I have nothing else planned for tonight. Elena is practically in a coma anyway.”

You laugh – a softened version of it so as to not rouse the dead weight of your daughter.

“Are you sure?”

It’s late.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

I don’t care.

“Mama,” Alba slurs, pulling her mother in close. “The saint has given her sinner a second chance.”

It may not be as quiet as she thinks it is. Alexia, occupied, is deaf to the comment. You are not.

This is not a second chance.

This is a lift home.

The last time all four of you sat in a car together was the day you found out about Alexia’s affair.

You had suffered then – are still suffering now – but your anger was hot and sharp and new. Fresh wounds.

Now, though more scabbed-over than healed, those wounds no longer seem to gush blood; you entertain Alexia’s stiff small-talk.

She asks about the tour, never veering too far off the road of practicality and shared custody. When does it resume? Which has been your favourite show?

“Wembley is like playing El Clásico in Camp Nou,” she determines, not needing to ask about that because she knows you too well.

Your memories of the London shows involve a naked Leah Williamson. (If only she knew that!)

“Yeah, London was great.”

Awkwardness is part of Alexia’s personality; something you are fairly certain you still love. She is shy, though it perhaps comes off as stoicity, and she has never been good at making conversation. You know she hates it, and you know that her eyes, Alexia’s eyes, are gazing at you every time she thinks you are not looking.

She is weary about the desire darkening her pupils, but she does not do well to hide her hunger nonetheless.

“Go into the carpark,” you instruct as you approach your building.

Wordlessly, she presses the correct pin into the pin-pad, never having forgotten it.

She parks the car beside a new-looking Mercedes. It’s not a car for children, and she imagines it reeks of cigarettes – there is no way you have stopped smoking.

It belongs in the carpark; in your little world of celebrities and male footballers; of money and fame and fortune. (One could argue you lack the latter, what with your current situation.) Alexia’s life has never moulded with yours.

Perhaps it never will.

Perhaps she slept with Jenni because they are equals, you think. Because Jenni understands Alexia in a way you cannot.

“Mami,” cries a quiet voice from the backseat. You stop staring at the grey, concrete walls, snapping back to reality as Alexia shifts to turn her attention to the source of the whimpering. “No quiero que te vayas.”

“Lela, me tengo que ir.”

“Pero–”

“You could always come up to say goodnight to them?”

It starts off innocently.

Of course it does. Of course you are nowhere near forgiveness, more likely to forget about the crushing affair before you excuse any of her actions. Sometimes, you wish for amnesia. Sometimes, you refer to the tab open in Safari – ‘is there a drug that makes you forget?’.

Alexia is granted a tuck-in and a story for each child, glad that their rooms are separate so that her time in her home is prolonged. The walls are familiar, the floor is the same. There are new pictures in new frames, but the old ones have not been removed. If you had ever wished to take photographs of your relationship down, you have never acted on it.

She realises you must not spend a lot of time here alone. Maybe you cannot bear it. Maybe your life in London is more important to you than she had thought.

Anyway, for as much as she subtly noses around and draws out the night, she has no intention of overstaying her welcome, sure that she probably did that the minute she stepped inside.

In fact, she is on her way out, under the assumption that you will not want to speak to her.

“So you’re back to playing?”

“Sí.”

A doorway conversation.

You’re English. You’re very polite. Alexia knows this, tries to not get her hopes up.

“Does that mean you don’t want a taste of this ‘97?” You hold the bottle up to her, the cork lying on the granite worktop with the incriminating suggestion that you have already had a glass.

“We play the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh, Ale, this is a good one.”

How many times have you said that to her before? The same tone, the same look in your eye; red tinting your lips, one hand on a lighter because you smoke when you’re drunk, even if you refuse to touch the cancer-sticks when you are sober.

“Was this a gift?” she asks, drawn into your magnetic field like a flimsy paper clip; thin, worn metal trying to piece the pages of her life back together. “Or have you been making ridiculous purchases again?”

“I can assure you that it is not ‘ridiculous’.” You moan in delight as you take a sip from a glass you subsequently hand over to her. “Gosh, that is divine, and you are simply going to dissolve when you taste it.”

Dissolve she does, but one can attribute that to the company.

The contents of the bottle dwindles quickly, paired with a vulnerable retelling of her ACL recovery (sans suicidal thoughts and huge, huge regret about the affair – she doesn’t want to bring that up, seeing as you are clearly trying to forget about it), and the warm breeze of the Barcelona nighttime. The salty air from the mediterranean mingles with cigarette smoke, though Alexia softly says that you really should stop.

You hesitate on your next puff, but you inhale it all the same. “I like my wine smokey.”

She opens the next bottle for you.

The wine glasses are soon discarded, pouring becoming shaky and difficult.

“They sleep all the way through the night here,” observes Alexia, surprised that no little hands have knocked on the glass door leading to the balcony. The last time you had reached for the wine, you’d moved closer to her. You have not yet returned to your original seat on the other side of the rattan sofa.

You raise your eyebrows, under the impression that they were both sleep trained. “They don’t at yours?”

“Elena keeps trying to sleep in bed with me.”

“Maybe she likes you more,” you suggest with a light, alcohol-infused laugh. “She must have been upset to find her place filled by your friend.”

“No,” murmurs Alexia, “it has never been filled. Though I don’t think you can say the same.”

You swallow the stickiness of the wine running down your throat.

“Not in our bed. My bed.” You fight yourself. “Our bed.”

“In Highgate?”

“Anywhere,” you breathe.

“It’s been months,” croaks Alexia, your hand pressed against her stomach as you slowly lean into the feeling only she can give you. “Months.”

You kiss her. Time folds in on itself, and you are transported back to when every touch was electric; when nothing was tainted. The pain of the past months, the heartbreak, momentarily fades into insignificance as you lose yourself in Alexia’s warmth.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, afraid that this moment might slip away too soon. The taste of wine lingers on your lips, and she craves the softness of them – she has been craving them since July.

“Well, now it has only been seconds,” you whisper as you pull away.

With a sense of urgency, she chases your mouth once more, strong arms pulling you on top of her, manipulating your body against her with no hint of uncertainty.

Alexia knows you well.

Her touch lacks curiosity and exploration. Her hands are experienced and confident in their movements, and she has hoisted you up and brought you to your bedroom without needing to have been told that this is what you want.

“Is this what you want?” she asks anyway.

“Please.”

And she really doesn’t make you beg.

Your hands roam her body with a primal hunger, instinctive touches to the most sensitive parts of her, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her back is tense, muscles flexing as she pushes your clothes off your skin, her own following their path soon after.

Parted legs and soft moans.

She slots herself between your thighs.

Her tongue is determined, fierce. Sloppier because she is drunk, but, then again, so are you.

Your fingers repay the favour.

“More,” you request just as she pulls away.

“Is it in the same place?”

You nod, panting.

There is a playful glint in Alexia’s eyes as she finds the strap just where she left it. As she secures it in place, you wipe the sweat from your brow, forcing your mind into the dirtiest of thoughts to ward off the building regret.

The room is dimly lit, and the air heavy with desire. Your heartbeat pulses in the silence, the thrum of the organ drums that guide Alexia’s slow, deliberate steps back towards the bed, kneeling atop the scrunched sheets.

She positions herself between your legs once more, and you can feel the heat of her body radiating against your skin. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your neck, sending shivers of anticipation shuddering down your spine.

With trembling hands, you reach out, nails digging into tanned, taut skin. You pull her closer to you, urging her to take whatever she wants.

You want her to have you. You want her to make it hurt less.

As Alexia presses inside, a jolt of pleasure courses through your body. You cry out, the sound igniting a blazing inferno within her that grows hotter the moment you ask her to move. Feverishly, her hands move over your chest, finding purchase on your breasts with a dormant possessiveness as her hips begin to drive the strap in deeper.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, encompassed by someone so divine that you begin to separate yourself from all things wrong with this situation. The headboard thuds against the bedroom wall as she pounds her thrusts into a rhythm, and you shut your eyes as you quietly ask her to kiss you.

Tears cascade down your cheeks, but you do not know to whom they belong. Her tongue smothers your moans, and her hips begin to snap into yours more urgently, with more desperation. The pressure builds inside of you, and you feel as though you might explode.

You feel as though this is the end, and you are glad that here is where your misery terminates.

You’re glad, you’re really glad.

Your back arches, your chests pressing together, large hands holding you close to her.

And then it all comes crashing down.

Everything.

You wipe your eyes once the orgasmic bliss subsides, seizing your wine haze as the tide goes out and destroying the blindfold that had deprived you of seeing things straight. Right now, with the pleasant ache between your legs, you can’t quite bring yourself to regret it, but you know you will. You haven’t forgiven her; you’re not sure that it is possible.

“You can shower, but you can’t stay here.”

…

Nico knows that he is special. He is lucky, and he is loved, and he gets to go to a very nice school that Mateo (his ‘cousin’) claims is fancy.

He likes his teacher. She reminds him of someone he once knew – you have suggested the nursery helpers back when he lived in London. He is not sure if you are right, but he doesn’t remember what London was like so he tries not to think too hard about it.

Nico’s friends, like Pau who is sitting beside him, all think it is really cool that he can speak English. Pau says she hears his mother on the radio sometimes, but Nico hasn’t yet grasped the concept of fame past the annoying camera flashes and big, sold-out stadiums. He dislikes fame as he knows it, anyway, because the cameras hurt his eyes and the stadiums are so loud that he has to wear ear-defenders that squeeze his skull a bit too much.

“My mum is from Bilbao. My dad is from Barcelona,” states Paula as she swipes a crayon over the sheet of paper her drawing is on. Green wax slowly stains the white to form ‘grass’. Everyone is drawing their family today, although Nico hasn’t yet started, waiting for his teacher to circle their table so that he can ask for another piece of paper. “And this,” Paula carries on, squiggling brown hair onto a smaller version of the stick-figure father, “is Ander, my big brother.”

“Who is that?” Nico asks, pointing at the fifth figure on the page, guessing that the fourth and Pau-sized person is, in fact, Pau.

“My sister! She’s called Nerea, and she plays basketball.” Pau promptly makes an orange circle the size of Nerea’s head, which floats in the air between her and her sister. “My mum says Nere is going to be a lesbian, but I don’t know what that means.”

“My mums are lesbian!” he blurts out, excited enough to garner the attention of his teacher. When she appears, he grins at her sweetly; the kind of smile that has melted many hearts, though Nico is unaware of how many people know he exists. “More paper, please.”

“Nico, you haven’t even tried with your first one.”

She isn’t harsh at all, but he has slowly learnt to stop asking follow-up questions. Six months of exasperated ‘I don’t know, Nicolau’s has taught him that.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

He learnt what a shrug was the other day, when Mapi told him off for doing it to her. (“Don’t shrug your shoulders at me, Nicolau Putellas!” she had chided playfully. “All I asked was which of your mamas’ houses we need to go to.”)

“Nico, what’s ‘lesbian’?”

“Mama says football is lesbian. Basketball might be lesbian! That’s why your sister is lesbian.”

“My mum says that lesbians kiss girls.”

“Mama kisses girls! And Mami. And they used to kiss each other but now they don’t speak and me and my sister swap houses.” Nico begins drawing it out for Paula when she peers at him, befuddled. “Here is Mama’s.” A big square, a glamorous-looking woman inside of the blue shape; a stick with a circle on the end of it; the notes he sees in his piano music floating in the air. “And…” he says, tongue sticking out as he concentrates on the opposite half of the page, “here is Mami’s.”

He draws a football. He picks up the red crayon too, and uses both the blau and the grana simultaneously. “Mami plays football for Barça.” He draws two lines on Alexia’s t-shirt. 11. “Mami made me get 11 at football.” Nico had originally worn the 10, but then the affair had come to light and Alexia was suddenly deep in conversation with his coach and apologising to the boy Nico then had to swap shirts with.

Then, he drops the crayons in his hand and searches for the stack near Paula. He selects the purple one, gripping it tightly, his friend still listening to him with intrigue.

“This is me and Lela.” Two stick figures are drawn in the middle of the page; the middle ground between each of the squares.

Nico sometimes feels stuck between it all.

When Mami got very sad, he and Elena went to stay with Mapi and Ingrid for a few nights. He held his little sister’s hand as much as he could. He always tries to remind her that he is right there with her.

Mami once told him that it was his turn to protect Elena. Nico hasn’t forgotten that.

“I keep Lela safe.” He has encouraged her, slightly selfishly, to call him ‘skipper’, which he has picked up from the Lionesses. Luckily, Alexia has not told him off for it because she doesn’t know what it means. “Lela is my little sister. She is a baby. She doesn’t remember what it was like when Mama and Mami loved each other, but I do.”

The purple crayon scrapes on the page as he presses it into the white, colour rubbing out in the shape of a heart. “Lela and I are together tot el temps. Mami tries to take me from her sometimes, but I don’t let her.”

His story – and ability to make Paula pay attention for longer than ten seconds – has already attracted the quiet attention of his teacher, but she moves closer as Nico continues. The four-year-old leaves out how Alexia is usually inviting him to training with her. Since Elena has yet to show any interest in football, it remains her and Nico’s special thing, and, of course, his mother misses him when it is not her turn.

You benevolently give your permission if you have no prior plans. It is upsetting that the only hindrance to extra time spent together is the little boy who once worshipped Alexia Putellas like a god.

“Nico, why did you want two pages?” asks Paula curiously, assuming he is finished now that his whole family is displayed on the piece of paper.

He frowns. “Because now I have to do this.” And with that, he tears the sheet in half.

Paula’s mouth drops open in surprise, as does his teacher’s.

“What’s wrong?” comes a mature voice, a hand placed on his shoulder just like it is when the other children in his class cry. Nico doesn’t cry. He is strong and brave, like a little soldier. “Did you not like your drawing?”

“No,” he replies neutrally, “half can live with Mama, and half can live with Mami.”

“But now you are ripped down the middle.”

He traces the jagged edges of the halves of his life. One of his legs is on your side, the other on Alexia’s.

“I know, but it’s okay. I don’t cry.”

Alexia does, though, when his teacher talks to her that afternoon.

…

“I slept with Alexia,” you confess quietly, comforted by the sound-proofing of Anya’s home-studio. She asked for help with her album; your success might be contagious, she insists. “Last week, when Nico had that recital.” You clutch your mug protectively, as if she will strip you of the right to drink your tea to punish you for your crime.

Anya is unsure what you would like her to say. You search her face for anger, but do not find it.

“If Gio were here, she’d probably slap you.”

You snort, almost spilling hot liquid all over yourself. “You two are like my mothers, and you’re the nicer one by far.”

“God, you are such an idiot.”

“And a slag.” She waits for your next admission with excitement. “I also slept with Leah Williamson.”

“Do you think you and Alexia are just destined for polyamory?” Her amusement is quite pleasant, but one thing wasn’t dulled by the wine that night and you have been dying to tell someone about it.

Your knee bounces up and down as you gear up for it, having thought it through

“I think we are destined for each other.”

Song-writing be damned, Anya fully removes her headphones, placing the equipment beside her keyboard before letting out a small, exasperated laugh. “You are in love with Alexia again,” comes her accusation, with no real malice behind it.

“I never stopped being in love with Alexia. She just made it a lot harder to love her.”

Is that an understatement?

“Hey,” you say with sudden energy, sitting upright and grasping at your phone, tea wobbling over the lip of the mug and running down your wrist. “Should we go to Bali in August?”

…

You avoid both of your footballers right until the World Cup camps roll around.

Leah doesn’t get to go, subjected to the ACL curse. Alexia’s call-up is not necessarily unexpected, but you do find yourself wondering how many more betrayals her friendship with Mapi León can handle. (Mapi is on her last straw, but she knows her friend really needed the win after her hellish year. The Champion’s League was never going to sate Alexia’s hunger to be the best at football – possibly an overcompensation for her terrible relationship skills.)

Your children, this time, are delivered to the park by their very own mother. Alexia beats Leah in this sense, because she has a valid excuse to see you without confessing feelings you do not want to hear.

“I have something for you,” she says just after she has finished her goodbyes, pressing a small box into your hands. Her voice is filled with nerves and you are intrigued, hating yourself for being so. “Don’t open it until you get back home.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. I’m sorry, they seem to say. “Alright, have fun in Bali, and don’t forget that I legally have custody but I am not going to go to court to battle you for it as long as you put them in Spain kits for Spain matches.”

She could, if she wanted to be difficult, have you send Nico and Elena to New Zealand during her weeks. It would be very unreasonable, but the contract your lawyers drew up still stands.

“They were delivered yesterday. I think it’s going to be a struggle to convince them to put on the worst kit ever.” You still don’t forgive Alexia for cheating on you, but there has come a point where acceptance replaces the animosity. Nico’s teacher has been the catalyst in this step forward. The developmental pamphlets she had thrust in your faces were enough for the two of you to come to a mutual agreement of increased civility (that maybe, maybe was only made possible by the fact that you have very recent memories of each other’s orgasms). “But, yes, I agree to your terms. Don’t forget that his favourite player is Alessia Russo, however.”

“He is in a phase where I am ‘uncool’! It’ll pass.”

“If you say so, Alexia.”

“Anyway,” she carries on, rolling her eyes. “Open it when you get home.” She… presses a kiss to your cheek? “I’m so sorry, mi amor.”

You blink back your surprise, but she is gone before you can reply.

The small, neatly-wrapped box sits in the palm of your hand, the corners edging off your skin and sticking out as you stare at it. Nico and Elena continue their (unsupervised) playing, but you manage to call out a warning for ‘five more minutes and then we’ve got to pack’ while you examine Alexia’s gift.

Is this how Pandora felt?

If you open it, what will be unleashed?

Alexia, before now, hasn’t actively pursued your forgiveness. She has given you the time and the space you had broken-heartedly requested, nodding as you communicated your wishes to her through someone else, never before able to confront the face that tore up your life before your eyes.

There was a time when all you ever wanted to do was talk to her, but she tried to forget about that when she realised the extent at which you went to avoid an interaction. When she had understood your desperation to be left alone fully, she began to breathe. The step backwards gave her room to examine just how royally she had fucked it all.

She now feels a bit more capable of tackling the clean-up, working with a much clearer mind. Everyone is relieved that she hasn’t killed herself, or, at least, that she is keeping those thoughts at bay.

You realise that she has bought you a ring, and regardless of whether you wear it or not, she wants to tell you that she is sorry.

...

IT'S NOT OVER YET! THIS WILL TAKE YOU TO THE SECOND HALF

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso fanfics #randombush3 #leah williamson x reader #woso imagines #barca femeni #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine

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vssail · 16 days

Text

sunday x reader

warnings: very short, use of affectionate nicknames, kinda hurting sundays feelings, mention of possible future little sundays¿

sunday shows photos of him and robin as babies to his lover

english is not my first language! also im writing this at like 2am without translator so this could be a disaster.

Sunday was so excited to show you those pictures that meant a lot of him. Sharing his childhood, his story to you meant a big step on your relationship, especially because he really wanted to have a family with you. He hears someone open the door of his office and turns around to see you.

"Ah, there you are, my sweet dove" He says, approaching to you and taking your hand. "I have something very dear to me to show you"

Gently, he pulled you to his desk, where the photo album was laying.

"Those are mine and Robin's childhood memories. I want you to see all of me, so please take a look" A sweet smile was adorning his face while he urged you to open the book.

Excited to see your lover as a cute baby, you hurried to do what he told you, only to be greeted with the most horrible thing you had ever witnessed in your life.

"This was me as a newborn" he explained. "I like to imagine that our kids will be this cute even as newborns"

There was no need for explanation. Your breathing was cut off of the tiny bare wings on his little head. Also, baby Sunday's face was something you would never be able to remove of your mind.

You tried your best to hide the emotions you were feeling about the picture and turned page, hoping to see a more grown Sunday (at least with feathers on his wings). Sadly, you again were greeted with another aberration of nature.

"This was my dear sister as a newborn, wasn't she adorable?" He asked you with the most innocent and naive intentions.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you agreed with his statement, and turned page. You were feeling like the worst person in humanity for disliking your dear boyfriend's baby pictures but god, you never expected to see something like that. How could the most handsome man in Penacony be such an abomination as a baby?

Fortunately, the next pictures were normal (the wings had feathers). There was one that you really liked, where Sunday was his sister's audience for a "concert". It was so cute that it almost made you forget the newborn pictures you had the misfortune to see before. But those pictures would never leave your memory.

When you finished seeing the entire album, you stood up and after giving a little kiss to your lover, you got out of the room.

Right after you left, Robin came in.

"How did it go?" she asked, kind of knowing what the response could be.

"I don't think we'll ever be parents after this"

im sorry but i had to

#sunday x reader #sunday hsr #sunday honkai star rail #hsr x reader #no beta read

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vcrooster · 2 years

Text

He needs his family

Angst, smut & and just a little bit of fluff.

Paring: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw & Wife!Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Your husband come back home to you completely shattered.

Warnings: mentions of rough sex, mental health issues, mentions of death and blood.

Author’s note: thank you guys so much for all the love I’ve been receiving from you guys! 🤍

***

Rooster was usually enthusiastic when he came back home from deployment.

You could tell when he was happy to be back in the comfort of his home, enjoying every second with his boy that had gotten a couple of inches bigger since he left. Rooster had promised to teach him how to play the piano and show him granpa’s album collection when he got back.

But he had to admit that the best part of it was sleeping in his own bed in your arms every night, he’d miss making love to you and looking at how pretty your face looked when you started to doze off into your sleep.

But this time it was all different.

He doesn’t know you know. You received a call early in the morning, your alarm wasn’t set for another three hours. It didn’t startle you as much thinking it was Bradley since he’s overseas. But it wasn’t him, it was Pete.

Your heart sank, you didn’t want all the worst scenarios to play in your head, but they did.

“Pete” You tried to sound as if you weren’t biting your nails anxiously. But you knew that he was the bearer of bad news.

“Sorry to wake you up–” He started.

“No, no, no, it’s alright”.

“There’s been some complications in the mission with Bradley” He sighed. You covered your mouth trying to drown the sorrows. Oh god no, don’t let him be dead.

“Is he?” The words left your mouth so silently that you almost thought he wouldn’t hear you.

“He’s okay, they just have him in observation in the hospital” He is quick to clarify, imagining what you must be feeling on the other end. “His wingman didn’t make it”.

Your body feels cold when he says that. It’s not the first time he had an accident in the air, however this was the first time he lost anyone, and if it was his fault you know he will never forgive himself for it.

“He’s set to go home by the end of next week, I’m just supposed to be calling you just to let you know to pick him up at the airport” you hear a door close on his side of the line and his voice is much clearer.

“What happened?” The hot tears were falling down your cheeks and your nails were digging in the palm of your hand.

“I can’t go into details” Pete breathed out “All he needs is his family right now”.

“Alright” all the words get stuck in your throat. He hangs up the call leaving you unsettled.

It’s three in the morning and you're crying in your bed. You feel a lot of pressure in your head, your eyes trail off to the framed picture of your wedding day on your bedroom wall.

Your boy in the middle of both of you, he was just a couple of years old in that picture, had the biggest smile on his face just like Bradley’s.

He looks so much like him.

He was always stealing your phone to send him videos and pictures of what he was doing, he liked to keep him updated.

He had even dressed up as a pilot for halloween, he asked for you to make him a patch with the name: Nick Bradshaw “Hawk”, the call sign Bradley chose for him when they’d use to play pilots in the living room.

But lately he hasn’t replied to him.

You hate to see your son keep sending messages to him with no answer. It absolutely broke your heart when he asked you if his dad was mad at him.

You’d expect him to call you and tell you what happened but he didn’t.

Him going no contact for almost a week felt like forever, the only thing you knew from him were Pete’s texts tell you he’s not doing very well. Needless to say they just made the knot in your stomach grow bigger.

He finally decided to call you a couple of days before coming back. It wasn’t a long call, all that you could rescue from it was that he’s okay and he couldn’t wait to be back home. Nothing about the mission or his wingman.

It was a Saturday morning when he finally arrived back in Oregon, back home. Nick had spent all afternoon making a sign for his dad that read “Rooster” just like in his helmet.

“Mom help me hold it higher so he can see the sign I made”. You do your best in lifting him up, wrapping your arms around his stomach. He wasn’t that heavy for a six year old, but you had to admit you did struggle a little. “There he is! Dad!”

He looked tired– very tired. He had some bandages around his arm and from what you could tell he also had a limp on his right leg.

His pretty hazel eyes had some prominent eye bags below them that he was trying to hide under a black baseball cap, but managed to smile when he spotted you in the crowd of people.

As soon as Nick’s feet were in the ground again he ran straight to his dad giving him the biggest hug he could.

His hand takes Bradley’s walking him towards where you were standing. You see how his eyes tone down once he meets yours.

He didn’t waste no time, he’s holding you so close to him you could feel yourself melting into him. The only thing that runs through your head is Maverick saying that Rooster needs his family.

“Welcome home honey” you whispered to his ear and that made him hold you tighter.

“I missed you guys so much” you rubbed his back. He’s been gone for almost seven months, you could honestly stay like this for hours.

“Dad, did you see my sign?” Your son pulls on his arm to try and grab his full attention, you find it so adorable how he had to get on his tippy toes to reach it.

“I did see it, you made this?” He was holding the paper in his hands, lowering at Nick’s height. He nodded with pride and started to explain it to Bradley. “ Can I keep it?”

“Yeah, I made it for you”.

“I love it, thank you” He hugs him one more time before rolling it up so he can put it on his backpack “C’mere” he carries him all the way back to the car on his shoulders.

The car ride was unexpectedly quite enjoyable, you could tell that he was trying to avoid any question that had to do with his deployment, nonetheless he seemed to be his warm self, which was honestly a big relief, you were prepared to have him at his worse but here he is smiling and singing in your car without a care in the world.

If you didn’t know him any better you’d know how good he is at evading the actual problems, he hopes that you're not too mad at him.

He wasn’t ignoring you. He was tired and maybe that was the worst excuse he could ever give you but there was no way he could talk to you without breaking down, how could he ever tell you it’s his fault that someone is dead.

There are a lot of maybes he’s scared about and it feels so intimidating looking into your eyes and saying that he’s alright just a little bruised so that you don’t have to be worried about him, he doesn’t know how long is he going to be able to keep it up, last thing he wants is for you to be disappointed in him.

He makes conversation about how he likes the new changes you made to the house, he marks down the inch Nick grew in the past months, he helps with dinner and the dishes. He has to repeat to himself that everything is alright, everything is normal, but he can even bring himself out of the bathroom without his anxiety shooting to the roof.

Before he could allow his mind to overthink any further he opens the door, finding you putting his clothes away on his side of the closet. His heart beats faster every step he takes in your direction and reminds himself to loosen up, that you love him.

“Hey” He hugs you from behind leaving a sweet kiss on your temple. There were still some traces of the vanilla scent you used and that was his favorite on you.

“Hi” You turn wrapping your arms around his neck giving him a warm smile. His hands fall to your hips holding tightly.

You can tell he’s nervous, his thumbs draw circles on your skin and he bites the inside of his cheek. The way his eyes look at you starts to take you back to the hurt Bradley from when his mother passed away.

You hate that you feel sorry for him, it’s just one thing after the other for him, it’s like he can’t catch a break.

You close the distance hugging him as hard as you could “Hey, it’s alright. You’re home.” you whisper trying to make him feel better.

Most people would never guess how depressed Rooster could get, the way he would let himself spiral into the rabbit hole made it sometimes very hard to pull him out of it. And it cost you a lot to do it but he was worth it.

You’ve always tried to be a good wife to him, always tried to make sure he didn’t feel alone, even when you weren’t by his side you tried to give him a ground to stand on.

“What happened Bradley?” Your fingers running slowly through his hair. He remained silent pulling closer to him as if he was trying to keep you from running away from him.

You know he doesn’t want to answer you. Not yet at least.

“I love you” His beautiful hazel eyes look straight into yours now looking like they lost their warmth.

There is a knot in your chest growing and growing as you see how shattered your husband came back home to you.

“I love you so much Bradley”.

His lips join yours in a tender kiss where he lets himself go.

Your fingers brush the skin of his neck pulling him closer to your body. You clutched at his shoulders as he started to take a few steps back letting the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Fuck, I missed you” His tounge immediately made its way into your mouth. Your legs wrapped tightly around his body and you felt him grow inside his shorts.

His fingers were having a hard time unbuttoning your pyjama. You chuckled, helping him undo it after giving up moving to your shorts, his hands got lost under the waistband so that he could rub your clit over the fabric making you moan his name just in the way he missed it so much.

It takes you a second to return to your blouse revealing his favorite teal lingerie under it.

“You wore this just for me baby?” He takes the straps feeling the silky material on his fingers. You nod, taking your bottom in between your teeth. Tracing the embroidery on your breast he took the opportunity to squeeze and knead them. “How lucky am I”.

You run your hands across his chest under the cotton material, feeling his dogs tags. Pulling at his shirt but it only resulted in him pinning your hands above your head, lips joining yours so hungrily that not being able to run your fingers through his hair was enough to make you whine.

Leaning down trailing down between your breasts leaving tiny red marks along your skin. “Rooster”. He went crazy when you used his call sign during sex.

He wanted to taste you so badly, he’s been thinking about it for months. You watch as he throws you leg over his shoulders kissing and giving small bites to the inside of your thigh.

He goes for it, immediately going for your clit making you arch your back.

He holds you down firmly with one hand as the fingers of the other curl inside you. He sucks on your clit and flicks it with his tongue, the only thing you can do is grip his hair tighter pulling him closer to you.

His fingers working inside you boy made the pleasure bubble up on your lower stomach. He waits for you to cum even though he is about to explode inside his shorts.

“Shit, I’m so hard already” you pull him up palming him over the material, gasping at how sensitive he was.

“What are you waiting for then?”.

He had been dreaming of this moment every night for the past seven months. He missed your touch, your kisses, how you felt around him, how every time it feels better than the last time.

He missed his wife.

He held you against his chest all night. His hot breath caressing your ear and arm wrapping on your waist.

The days got better, Bradley has been taking care of Nick, making up for the lost time. You did have to admit having not to worry about your son every hour of the day was a huge relief.

Bradley’s nights had gotten worse the following weeks. Waking up in the middle of the night covered in sweat, panting, feeling more exhausted one night after the other.

He didn’t want to worry you, he was becoming a little too irritated at all times, being at home, with Nick, he wouldn’t speak too Maverick, he even was a little too rough during sex.

It’s like he wasn’t himself anymore.

There he was on top of you, the strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, eyes closed and lips parted.

His thrusts got to a point of getting too harsh making you feel uncomfortable instead of feeling pleasure. Your nails sinking into the skin of his shoulder blades as you’re trying to ignore how the discomfort turns into pain.

“Bradley…” it barely comes out as a whisper thanks to the pressure in your throat.

He groans in response, digging his fingers into your hip holding you steady for him.

“Bradley” it was a little louder this time but his mind was somewhere else “Slow down”.

Rooster was usually passionate but gentle, now matter how caught up he was he’d always make sure you were enjoying yourself as much as he was.

“Please Bradley”. You were trying not to freak out, but it wasn’t long before you'd let go of all the tears you were holding back. “You’re hurting me”.

You push his shoulders with the little strength you have left and finally manage to get his attention.

He stops. It finally stops.

He sees the tears running down your cheeks and how your hands are shaking over the skin of his chest. And your eyes, fuck your eyes, they looked so scared of him.

“Shit, shit, shit” What has he done? “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” He just now noticed that you're still trying to push him off you.

You let out a painful whimper when he finally pulled out. He spotted a bloodstain on the sheets right in between your thighs and the burning that your nails left on his shoulders.

What has he done?

“Baby I’m so sorry” Rooster wasn’t exactly sure if it was alright to go near you, he thought it was better to create some distance instead of forcing you to accept his touch. “I didn’t–”. He swallowed, not knowing what to say that wasn’t an apology. “Fuck, I didn’t mean– I’m sorry”

You wrap the sheets around your body as you make your way to the bathroom. Not once you look at him, the whole situation feels confusing, the only thing you want to do is clean the blood running down your thighs.

He calls your name on the other side of the door. He listens to everything, drawers opening, water running, you crying.

“I’m so sorry” he felt himself choking sitting next to the door trying to stay afloat. “I keep fucking everything up”.

You grab your robe before opening the door. You’re not mad at him, he means it when he says he’s sorry, he didn’t want to hurt you. He was hurting and the pit inside him is only getting bigger.

You sit next to him and he immediately wraps his arms around you looking for your forgiveness. “I’m so sorry”.

He’s crying. You haven’t seen him cry since he left for deployment when Nick was a couple of months old.

“I know, I know Bradley” His eyes fogged when you reached cupping his face caressing his cheeks with your thumbs. “But you need to talk to me. You need to stop acting like everything is alright”.

“I told him to take a left turn” His voice is shaky as he holds your hand.

“What?”.

“I didn’t see the bandits up ahead, they weren’t in the radar”. Words filled with so many emotions, tearing him apart. “They shot us down. He didn’t have time to eject” he finally opened up. “I heard him scream in the fire. I couldn’t help him.”

What could you possibly say to him? You had no idea it was this bad when Maverick called you that night.

“He had a kid…” That broke Rooster. There was a child somewhere that was going to grow up without his Dad. Just like he did, just like his own boy could’ve had if he wasn’t behind his wingman that day.

“Oh Bradley” You hugged him as he cried in your chest. Last time you were in this position it was when Nick’s cat died.

He cries with so much guilt and pain. He cries in the same way he did holding on to his mother’s hand when she passed in the hospital bed.

“It’s not your fault” You whispered “it could’ve happened to anybody” His fingers were digging in your skin again, not letting you go anywhere.

“Mom?” Nick’s body was half way into the room looking so worried he almost had a scared expression on his face.

“Everything is alright honey, go back to your room”.

Bradley stiffness in your arms. He doesn’t want his boy to see him like this. He’s supposed to be his hero, no kid should ever see his hero like this, right?

“What’s wrong with Dad?” His small hazel eyes can’t look away from his father. “Does he have a tummy ache?” He makes it a little further into the room only thinking of how to help his Dad. “I’ll go get some tums”. You hear his footsteps go all the way down to the kitchen opening up the pantry doors.

Rooster chuckles at his son’s innocence.

“I’m sorry” he says one more time before leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, we’ll stay with you now matter what Bradley, nothing is changing that”. You wipe the tear that’s about to reach his lips and place a soft kiss on them.

Nick is back in no time, Bradley sits up and puts a smile on his face thanking his kid for taking care of him.

“Here daddy” Rooster opens his palm letting the tables fall on his hand “I got you two because you're bigger than me”.

“Thank you” Rooster takes a hand to his hair, messing it up a little more than it already is “You mind keeping an eye on me tonight?” He hugs his son, he hugs him knowing that every single second with him matters more than he thinks.

“Only if you promise to throw up in the bathroom”.

“I promise” his pinky intertwines with Bradley’s.

He takes care of the bed before he lets you both go on it, taking care of the previous sheets.

No nightmares just him and the people he loved the most.

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