#happy holidays everyone and take care of yourselves

[thesunisatangerine]

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

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, mentions of death, scars

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

word count: 11.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, now it made sense. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you whispered, “Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Alexia, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

“Alexia, did you do something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow. 

You would talk to her about it tomorrow. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s he like?”

Ah. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank him for what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, my god.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay, Mom?”

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

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

Oh, Elisa.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re going to be fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alexia, give me your keys.”

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

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

“No. I’m well capable of–”

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

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

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

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

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

And so, you told her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alexia inhaled sharply and you winced when her next words were spoken in a broken tongue, a lone tear running down her cheek.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Alexia whispered. 

“I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

“You nearly died!” Alexia shouted as she stood up suddenly, eyes wide and frantic, while she threw her hands in the air before she dug her fingers into her hair. She must’ve realised how loud her voice was because she spoke her next words in a lower tone but it was restrained all the same, tight and thin as a string on the brink of breaking. 

“There was no other way I’d take it! What if I’d lost you and I didn’t even know?” Then her eyes widened even further, realisation clear in them, and then her breath caught, words coming out in a sob. “No, I did lose you, didn’t I? Your heart stopped! Your heart–”

Alexia’s knees buckled beneath her and you barely caught her in time. The weight of her against you brought the both of you down to the ground, the softness of the rug doing little to lessen the fall, and it left you cradling Alexia’s head in your arms, her ear against your chest, as you tried, to no avail, to ease her pain.

Alexia had always seemed like an immovable mountain to most people, strong and collected in the face of adversities, especially so to her supporters who’d only ever truly seen her display an air of vulnerability a handful of times, so to witness her so broken like this–prone and weak on her knees, spine contorting in an anguished arch under the heaviness that you put in her chest, the weight too much for her to bear–and knowing that it was you who caused her to feel this much misery… Oh, how the pain seared through you like a burning lance! 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You whispered this litany of lamentations against her ear, your voice thick with tears. But, in your mind, you were apologising for more than that; for all the mistakes you’d made, for leaving, for almost leaving into that endless night.

Alexia twisted your shirt in a grip, the fabric now soaked with her tears, gnashing her teeth in a fierce display of guilt. “And I wasn’t even there for you. Fuck, I wasn’t even there. I–”

“You cannot blame yourself for this, darling. I won’t let you.” You said, voice firm despite the gentleness of it. And you proceeded, “And you think you weren’t there but you were, Alexia. You saved me.”

It was the truth that Alexia needed–that you needed her–to hear. She was your light in that darkness: in that sleep and the haze that came after it, and even more so now than ever. You tightened your grip around her, kissed the top of her head, and brushed her tears away.

“You were there, Alexia, always. You just didn’t know it.”

You were drying your hair with a towel on the bed when Alexia entered the bedroom, hair still dripping from her shower that left dark spots around the collar of her grey shirt, the skin around her eyes remained rosy but now faint, her short shorts barely appearing beneath the hem of her shirt, and–

“Is that…?”

Alexia followed your gaze and looked down at the string around her left ankle, the silver of the charm glinting in the low light. “Yes.”

“You kept it…” You whispered as emotions caught in your throat. 

“Of course, I did. It…” Alexia bit her lip, casted her gaze to the side for a moment, before she met your eyes again, eyes so openly sincere you longed to kiss her right then. “It makes me feel more at ease while playing. It makes me feel safe.”

At that, you grazed your thumb over the string around your wrist. “I know the feeling.”

A silence fell over you as Alexia stood just a few paces away from the foot of her bed, feet shifting beneath her as she gnawed on her lower lip. She looked so small like that, so young and unsure. So you shifted your weight, and made space for her as you said softly, “Ale, come here. Let me dry your hair.”

That seemed to be what Alexia was waiting for because she finally shuffled forward, and sat down between your legs with her back turned to you. Gently, you began to dry her hair, loving the way she craned her neck back as you did so. Once it was only damp enough now, you ran your fingers through her hair, carefully untangling the knots between the strands, before you moved your hand lower, to the nape of her neck first then to her shoulders, putting just enough pressure there with the intent to release the tension in her muscles.

Alexia sighed deeply, tilting her head sideways so you could move your hands more freely. And a moment after, she turned and looked up at you, eyes lidded and shining with vulnerability and… something else that you couldn’t quite decipher but your heart ached all the same from the depth of it, and then slowly, she rose, and then the warmth of her breath caressed your cheek, her lips on yours. The kiss was tender and sweet in its lightness and before you knew it, you were eased down to the bed, her warmth washing over you as if her body was the sun and you were the earth being graced by her light.

You cupped her cheek, feeling the line of her jaw, savouring her lips when a wetness burnt against the skin below your eye, tasted salt on your tongue, and felt the stutter in Alexia’s breath. Soon, Alexia broke the kiss entirely, sinking into the crook of your neck where she wept silently, and you could do nothing but wrap your arms around her frame to shelter her, to assure her that you were still here and that, truly, the worst had passed. You held her there until sweet repose, at last, eased her into a place without pain and you waited for sleep to come, while regarding her countenance and relishing the soft caress of her breath on your skin, when not a moment later, you joined Alexia in slumber; your heart finally beating in time with hers.

It was still dark when you woke several hours later with a comforting warmth pressed against your back and the weight of Alexia’s arms around your waist, her breath warm against the nape of your neck. You shifted closer to the source of your comfort and placed your hand over hers. From the way her hold on you tightened, you knew she was awake.

“Can I confess something?” Alexia whispered, voice raw.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath. 

“I waited for you.” A pause. “Until I saw you at the Olympics, I was still waiting for you. I knew the odds of you coming back to me were against me, but I hoped you’d come back.”

“Thank you for waiting.” You murmured.

“Thank you for coming back.” Alexia choked out, arms tightening around your waist. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

You needed to see her, so you peeled her hands from your waist, turned, and wrapped your arms around her waist.

“I’m here, Alexia. I’m right here with you.” You caressed her cheek, wiping the tear in the corner of her eyes before you whispered against her lips, “If I have to spend my whole life thanking you, so be it.”

Saying goodbye was a difficult affair for everyone–well, except for Derek, of course. Despite Alexia’s offer to drop you, Derek, and Elisa to the airport, you declined, reminding Alexia she needed rest for tomorrow, chuckling lightly at the pout she gave you when you said it, which made you inclined to kiss it away. 

(You ignored Derek’s smirk; you spied him over Alexia’s shoulder looking all too smug for his own good.)

And Elisa, after spending the past few days in Alexia’s company, clung to her waist, lips quivering and eyes glassy with unshed tears, while Alexia tried to appease her. It seemed that Alexia’s celebrity factor had diminished for Elisa and now it dimmed to a newfound word: a friend. You smiled as you watched them chat for a bit longer, before Elisa went inside the car.

When it was your turn to hug Alexia, you sank into her arms, and she in yours, as your heart already longed for her at the thought that in a few minutes, you two would be parted again. It was difficult but you managed to pull away, kissing Alexia on her cheek, then her lips. 

It was your last kiss but as your Uber took you away and as Alexia’s figure shrank in the rearview mirror from the growing distance, this kiss, you felt, held the promise of a future; of something more.

And that, to you, was everything.

You took the call immediately after you saw Alexia’s name on your screen. 

“Alexia, what did you do?”

It was currently late October, over two months since the last time you’d seen her in person, but the both of you–and occasionally Elisa would join the both of you if she was able to catch you after her practice–remained in contact be it through messages, calls, or video calls. So to say that you missed her was more than an understatement and you found that the calls that used to relieve you of your longing for her–although they still very much did–now only served to deepen the growing cavern in your heart that resembled the woman who it belonged to; it was no longer enough, you wanted Alexia. 

But that was not to be the topic of your conversation right now. 

Alexia’s chuckle met your ears, brows crunching up in amusement. She was in a loose shirt, half of her face glazed over in a low, warm glow. “Is this about Elisa’s trial?” 

“Please, Alexia, if you had something to do with Elisa getting scouted, tell me now.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Alexia said, even and light with laughter, but she enunciated the words with an air of seriousness. “I didn’t do anything. Although I admit I did a little digging that day I went to La Masia when you guys were here, remember? I heard Jona say her name in passing and when I checked the list, Elisa’s name was one of the best candidates. Your daughter has talent and a promising dedication to the club, the scout saw that.”

And as her word sank in–as you believed in your bones that Alexia was speaking truthfully–you let out a sigh, sagging into your open palm. 

“Okay, I believe you. I’m sorry, babe… I just had to make sure.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Alexia waved a dismissive hand, and then, “So, what happened?”

“Well, I picked Elisa up today and her coach handed me a brochure and started talking about Elisa’s eligibility for a trial to get into Barça’s youth team.”

“And how did Elisa take it?”

“She’s unusually calm about all of it and that’s exactly the reason why I wanted to call you.” You sighed, “I’m worried she believes she didn’t get in because she did well and that she got in because of her connection to you.”

A pause and you watched as a pensive look passed over Alexia’s face. “Do you mind if I talk to her?” 

“No, not at all. I think that’s a good idea. Hold on.” 

You muted the call and then padded your way to Elisa’s bedroom, then knocked on her door. 

“Ladybug, Alexia is on the phone.”

A moment later the door opened slightly, and Elisa looked through the tiny gap, her brow scrunched up in confusion before she widened the gap enough that she could step out. 

“Alexia?”

You tucked a strand behind her ear. “Yes, honey. She wants to talk to you, only if you want to.”

Elisa gnawed her bottom lip, casted her gaze down for a moment, before she finally nodded. You gave her your phone, watched her close the door, before you made your way down to the kitchen to check on the food you were cooking. It was nearly half an hour later that Elisa joined you, phone in hand, eyes only just a bit raw, which she handed to you after giving you a hug. And when she pulled back, the smile she gave you was small but radiant, and you felt relief as you let her slip back into her room but not before you reminded her that the food was nearly ready. 

“I don’t know what you said to her, but she looks better. Thank you” 

“She just needed a little pep talk.” Alexia smiled at you, soft, “And anytime, my love.”

Two months later, Elisa’s club topped their respective league, won a major regional and national tournament, and Elisa… Elisa passed the trial.

Elisa was going to Barcelona.

‘Come over when you’re done for the day?’

The message was sent about an hour ago. You ran your fingers through your still damp hair, wiping your clammy palms on the fabric of your jeans, as you sent, ‘I’m coming up.’

Two days after Elisa received the news from Barça, you flew by yourself to Barcelona to sort out some paperworks. Derek already offered for the both of you to remain at his place–insisted even, so you wouldn’t get stressed out, which was sweet of him–and you accepted, but you promised you’d find someplace else after you and Elisa settled into your new routine. Alexia knew about all of this, of course, her schedule was filled today so she wasn’t able to be with you. Well… until now.

Now faced with Alexia’s apartment door, to say that you were nervous would be an understatement; you hadn’t seen your lover in the flesh for months, how could your heart not be in danger of leaping out of your chest at the promise of seeing her again soon?

You knocked on the door and only seconds passed between the moment you saw a shadow through the peephole and the door being flung open, and before you could fully comprehend what was happening, you were being pulled inside by the collar of your cardigan and slammed against the door as warm lips pressed on yours, hungry and full of ardour. 

You moaned at the heat of Alexia’s tongue searing the skin of your lower lip, her teeth napping and pulling, before her tongue swept over the same spot, to soothe and salve and sear all over again. Standing on your toes, you wrapped your arms around her neck while you pushed your chest up, seeking her warmth, and you loved the way Alexia’s arms tightened their hold around your waist, pressing you further into the firmness of her body. Then her hands ventured downwards, setting your skin afire in their wake, and you gasped into her mouth the moment she took your ass in her grip and squeezed, the pleasure turning your blood into an entity of potent desire. 

To your surprise, Alexia suddenly pulled away from the kiss and she ripped her hands away from your body, planting them instead on the door to hold her weight. And you had never hated distance more than the mere centimetres that separated your bodies just then.

Alexia looked down at you with lidded eyes, pupils blown so wide that the hazel in them were covered in black, while her breath came out stuttered.

“Wait–I’m sorry, I know we’re taking it slow but I just missed you so much and I–” 

You let out a sound that was between a moan and a groan as you pulled the collar of her hoodie down, swallowing her next words in a deep kiss. Your hand crept under the fabric of her hoodie, her stomach deliciously taught beneath your fingers and you didn’t fight the urge to drag your nails over her smooth skin to make your intentions clear–an action that made her swear against your lips. You took her lower lip between your teeth and pulled slightly, the sound she made–obscene in every sense of the word–and the curse she let out sent scorching heat straight to your core; nothing turned you on more than the proof of Alexia’s ever-present composure slipping. 

It mattered not how the both of you arrived at the bed; one second you were pressed up against the door, the next you were surrounded by soft sheets with Alexia on top of you, nipping and licking along the column of your neck, while the room filled with pants and gasps that came from either of you. She pressed her knee against the juncture of your thighs and the pressure made you keen Alexia’s name in a wanton cry, which Alexia responded to with an approving hum that you felt on your lips. 

Her teasing continued on until the fabric of your underwear clung to you like a second skin from the slickness of your core but when you felt her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, you surged up and gently pushed Alexia to the side, laying her down on the bed with a deep kiss while you moved to straddle her stomach. 

Then you leant back after a moment to look at her, and the sight you beheld took the breath from you. 

There, she lied: with her light brown hair fanned out wildly on the sheets, a stark contrast against the lightness of the linen; her skin glowed from the incandescent light from her lamp; her hazel eyes beautifully dark and lidded with need; her cheeks graced with a rosy tint of the same shade as her supple lips which were slightly parted; the strong column of her neck, her broad shoulders, her large but gentle hands… there, while she lied and gazed at you, you basked in the radiance of her earthly beauty–her character even more resplendent in nature. And there, your chest crowded with emotions–lust, desire, wonder, amity–but a resonant call from your heart encompassed the immensity of this singular truth. 

You loved Alexia. 

Oh, how you loved her so. 

With reverent hands and eyes that bore the zeal of your affection, you kept your gaze on hers while you dragged your fingers over her clothed ribs down to the firmness of her stomach, admiring the way the strength in them yielded into a softness so inherently familiar, adoring the way her lips parted further, the way her brows rose ever so slightly as the depth in her eyes seemed to stretch into a vastness that called to you. 

She was beautiful. 

So, so beautiful.

All of her exalted you to no end: the sound that she made when you kissed the valley between her breasts after you’d helped her undress; the feel of her skin on your tongue, from her collarbone, to her rib, to her hip, and her thigh; the taste–finally, again–of her need, her pleasure, and her ecstasy. Everything that she was revived you; she stoked the embers of your mortal flame into a star that shone for her, and only her. Every breath, every word, every look… these were the things that–in their divine simplicity–endeared her even more to you; the divine simplicity of her state of being was more than enough to move you, to make you fall deeper into your love for her.

As she came undone beneath your touch, the echoes of your heart longed to be heard, filling your throat with the words of a confession. But instead you whispered, in a cadence similar to that of a litany, that she was beautiful. 

Soon after she came back to herself, she sat up and in a second, Alexia had you in her tender and appraising arms as you remained on her bare lap, kissing along your jaw as her large hands roamed over your still clothed body, her touch both gentle and fervid. But when she grazed the hem of your shirt again, you stilled.

Alexia pulled away, eyes lidded but concern reflected brighter in the darkness of her eyes.

“What is it, darling?” She asked as she brushed a strand behind your ear, gaze intent, searching your countenance for an answer.

Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest. You opened your mouth a few times as you tried to find the right words to say, and then finally, you admitted quietly, “My body… it–I’m not like how you remembered.”

“Darling, your body will always be beautiful. You don’t need to hide yourself from me.” Alexia took one of your hands and pressed a kiss on your knuckles, earnest in the way she spoke and looked at you. Your heart ached.

“I know, it’s just… I don’t think I’m ready,” you trailed off, “And I’m worried you’re not, too.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Alexia squeezed your hand, encouraging.“I’m ready when you are.”

Unbidden, the image of Alexia in anguish after you told her about what you went through flashed through your mind and the same vulnerability–that thinly veiled fear–you’d seen then, you could see now reflected in her eyes. It was one thing to hear the words of injury, and it was another to see the physical proof of it; if the words had profoundly affected her so, how much more would bearing witness to the tangible mark of your narrow escape from death would cause her?

“Alexia…” 

You began to sigh, ready to offer a rejection, but Alexia cupped your cheeks into her palms, making you look into her eyes. Then she whispered, “Please, let me see you. I want to… I want you.”

There was much desire and tenderness in her voice, and you found yourself calming down knowing that you could trust Alexia with this. So you nodded. 

Alexia smiled at you softly before she whispered, “Thank you. Just let me know when you want to stop.”

You nodded again and then, Alexia’s lips were back on yours, sweet and light as her hands returned to your waist. She was gentle, murmuring words of reassurance on your temple, your jaw, your collarbone, as she eased your cardigan off your shoulders. She placed one light kiss on the column of your neck before she laid you down on the sheets, her hair cascading over you like a silk curtain. 

Alexia journeyed down your body, placing butterfly kisses over your clothed sternum, her breath breaching the thin barrier between your skin and heated your blood into a gentle simmer. Then she stopped, her lips on your stomach, and when you looked down at your body she was gazing up at you with imploring eyes, fingers playing at the button of your jeans, a question clear in her eyes. 

Your lips parted at the sight of Alexia’s lips made red from kissing, her blown pupils dark with ardour, her brows tilted up in silent affection. Your heart, for all of its beating, was tranquil under the weight of Alexia’s hands and eyes, and so, you nodded.

Alexia gave you a smile and then she kissed your navel as her fingers unbuttoned your jeans, taking it off slowly. Then her hands skimmed over the newly exposed skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps and heat in their wake, and you gasped when you felt her lips ghosting above your core over the fabric of your underwear. You anticipated more, canting your hips upwards, but Alexia had already moved away by then, a gentle squeeze on your thigh, you perceived, was her form of apology. 

And then her fingers were drawing circles on the exposed skin of your navel, just below the hem of your shirt, as she bent down, capturing your lips in hers, before she rested her forehead against yours.

“Are you ready? Just say the word and I’ll stop.” Alexia whispered on your lips.

You inched away so you could cup Alexia’s face in your palm, grazing your thumb over her cheek, as you replied with absolute certainty. “I’m ready. I trust you, Alexia.” 

She caught your hand in hers as you began to take it back, pressing her cheek into your palm as she said, “Thank you.”

Slowly, Alexia began to take your shirt off and, once it was tossed aside, you waited with bated breath for her reaction upon seeing your scars. Would she turn away just as you tended to do sometimes whenever you saw yourself in the mirror? Would she touch you still–would you sicken her? You probably would, wouldn’t you? You–

A choking sound tore you away from your spiralling thoughts, your vision focusing on Alexia’s face contorting. A part of you screamed, ‘Look how you’ve appalled her!’, but clarity came over you and you recognised then that it was pain that marred her face. Alexia’s lips quivered as she took you in, eyes drifting around the more prominent scars on the right side of your torso–one on the top of your shoulder, on the skin just below your ribcage, and finally, the one just beside your breast–and her brows creased, and when she met your gaze, her eyes had reddened and now held in them, along with the desire–albeit now dimmer from the intensity of the other emotions on her face–a mixture of relief, regret, and agony. 

Then she gathered you in her arms as she leant down, her arms wounding their way around your ribs, her nose brushing against your collarbone, her fingers delicate in the way they splayed on the skin of your shoulder blades, while the strength of her body draped over you and the softness of her breasts–her warmth–offered, even without words, shelter and healing. And you basked in it, arching your back to further feel the press of Alexia’s body, wrapping your arms around her neck and in response, Alexia’s hold on you tightened as she whispered your name in a tone fit for a rhapsody.

Alexia lifted her head and looked into your eyes. You wiped the trail of a tear that ran down her cheek, tucked a loose hair behind her ear, traced the line of her brow, and then the bow of her lips which trembled at your touch.

“You’re here and you’re mine.” She stated softly although the intonation in the end made her sound unsure, as if she didn’t–or couldn’t–believe that the both of you were there together, skin on skin, flesh against flesh, breathing the same air in the same moment in time; alive. 

“I’m with you and I’m yours, Alexia.” You whispered with conviction. “Take me.” 

As you said this, you reached behind you to grab one of her hands so you could kiss her knuckles, watching her as she watched you, before you took her first two fingers into your mouth. You relished the way her lips parted with a gasp while you guided her fingers down to your core, pushing the fabric of your soaked underwear aside so you could press Alexia’s wet fingers against you, sighing when you finally felt her there while Alexia moaned out her desire.

And so, she took you. With one last fervid kiss on your lips that took your breath away, Alexia ventured downwards, brushing her thumb over your clit as she did, while she nipped on the expanse of skin you offered her. And then her lips were on you and you were lost–and found again.

She moved with an air of divinity; with each touch from her supple lips, you felt as though you were closer to grace; and with each swipe of her tongue and thrust of her fingers, you could feel a warm radiance washing over you, simultaneously stripping the strength away from your bones and restoring you to a wholeness you never knew you could feel.

You gathered enough strength to open your eyes to peer down your body and when you did, the sight that greeted you nearly pushed you over the edge. There between your legs, Alexia was looking at you with lidded eyes as she worked on you, catching a glimpse of her tongue every now and then, and the sheen of wetness on her lips and chin. And her eyes… Oh, her eyes had the power to unravel you with one look.

The need to feel her close rose in you as you felt your peak creeping closer. You had meant to say, ‘Come here’, but the words were lost on the way to your mouth and what came out was Alexia’s name. But Alexia understood enough it seemed for she–without so much as losing the pace of her fingers–moved up your body and kissed you, your wetness fresh on her lips and chin, your taste heavy on her tongue.

She kissed your cheek, then your temple, and then you felt her warm breath on your ear. Then she whispered low and dark as sin, “You look so beautiful like this… feel so good. Love the way you’re so wet for me.”

“Ale… Alexia…” You moaned at her words, dragging your nails over her back as you found yourself losing purchase; the edge of euphoria, you could feel, only just a breath away. 

“That’s it. Come for me, darling. Let me feel you come.”

The heat of it all–Alexia’s words and the warmth of her breath, that hot friction from her fingers, and her safe, sheltering weight on you–finally lit the fuse and ecstasy set every nerve in your body afire, and a sense of fullness filled your chest–a state of grace–that called to the woman before you. 

And so, you didn’t stop the words. 

You sighed against her ear, “I love you.” 

Alexia tensed but she didn’t stop until you’d finished, until your cheek was pressed against the sheets, eyes closed from the sheer pleasure that she blessed you with. When she dragged out her fingers from you, you whimpered.

And then you felt her palm on your temple, wiped the sweat away there, before she eased your head away from the pillow as she whispered your name. You opened your eyes to her doting countenance, her brows graced by a hopeful tilt.

“Do you mean it? Truly?” Alexia asked softly.

You felt no fear when you replied in the same soft cadence. “I do.” 

Her breath stuttered, her next words were so light you barely caught them. “Say it again. Please.”

You smoothed her hair, traced the tail of her brow, before you looked deeply into her eyes.

“I love you, Alexia.” 

Her face broke into a small, reverent smile that bore all the warmth in the world before she caught your lips in a kiss so tender you nearly cried.

Then you parted, but Alexia’s forehead remained against yours.

And with tears in her eyes, she whispered. 

“I love you, too.”

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: #to the anon/s in my inbox who’s been so sweet–thank you for your kind messages and words of motivation #i very much appreciate you and im sorry for my lateness but i hope that this makes up for it. #happy holidays everyone and take care of yourselves #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

[riumeri]

O Tannenb-alm, o Tannenb-alm~!

#fire emblem #fire emblem echoes #fire emblem echoes shadows of valentia #fe15 #alm #celica #happy holidays everyone! please take care of yourselves and stay warm :) #this is based on what i drew last year but it's coloured this time and alm and celica upped their game haha #all i want for christmas are valentia winter alts intsys the ideas are in plain sight #edit: I FORGOT THE BRAND MARKS ON THEIR HANDS AGHHH

[i-have-not-slept]

Problemalec 2023

Week 1: Power Imbalance/Ex/Mafia

@animalecfest @carelessflower

TW: Mentions of blood, death.

*******************************************************

He’s a dangerous one, Alexander Lightwood.

Magnus knows that, of course. He’d be stupid not to know it.

He knows about the things Alec gets up to during the day, while Magnus is at work. He knows about the traces of blood Alec scrubs from underneath his fingernails when he thinks Magnus isn’t watching. He knows that, every night, he shares the bed of a killer.

Continue reading here.

#malec #alec lightwood #magnus bane #tsc #shadowhunters #cassandra clare #the shadowhunter chronicles #alec lightwood bane #magnus lightwood bane #problemalec #tw death #tw blood #mafia au #take care of yourselves everyone #love you all and happy holidays

[softquietsteadylove]

Let’s do some Christmas stuff! You choose wich AU! A snowball fight :D

"It's snowing!"

Jack's declaration of excitement had woken the entire house as soon as he was up. He was bouncing with excitement over the powdery snowfall all through coffee/cocoa, and breakfast, and presents.

Until Phastos was finally - finally - ready to let everyone outside.

The Genius Eternal yawned as he dragged himself to watch his son from the covered porch. He smiled as he felt his husband come up beside him, laying his head on his shoulder.

"Which number Christmas is this?" Ben asked softly.

"Jack's 11th Christmas, technically," Phastos answered easily as he rubbed Ben's shoulder, "that's all that matters."

"Baba, come on!" Jack waved to his fathers, but they both held out their mugs of coffee as their excuse not to roll around in the snow, at least just yet. Jack rolled his eyes at them. "Uncle Gil?--Aunt Thena?"

Thena, who had been avoiding the snow very purposefully, shot out the back door. Snow was not her favourite weather, and she actually didn't adapt to cold very well for an ageless being of Cosmic Energy. It made her sluggish.

But the Warrior Eternal flew into the backyard at Jack's beckoning, landing in deep - up to her knees - and sliding next to him. She smiled at Jack's excitement, who never tired of the displays of their inhuman strength and speed. "What are we doing?"

He held up a fist sized collection of snow, "build a snowman with me?"

Gil emerged only a few minutes later, with his own coat thrown on and Thena's draped over his arm. He cleared his throat loudly (aggressively). "Ahem!"

Jack blinked over at Uncle Gil, only now realising that Thena didn't have her gloves or scarf on, having leapt out to join in him in only the long sweater dress she had been wearing since that morning. "Aunt Thena, you'll get cold!"

"Eternals can't get cold," she stated rather factually as Jack started pulling off his mittens to try and offer them to her.

"That's not true," Gil corrected freely as he walked into the backyard with them. "Especially about Aunt Thena."

Thena sighed, sounding an awful lot like Jack. But Gil held her coat open for her with an expectant eyebrow raised. She let go of the snowball now rolled as high as Jack's shoulders, and slipped into it. She turned, letting him button it up for her. "Being around Phastos for so long has made you nervous."

"You," he corrected with a kiss to her nose, "running around in the snow makes me nervous."

Thena let him pull off his scarf and loop it around her hair, although she smiled as he used it as an excuse to pull her into a kiss. She sighed, eyes glittering as she watched a few snow flakes get caught in his dark hair. "Lucky I have you to warm me up, then."

"Uncle Gil, can you help us get the head on?"

"Sure can, buddy," Gil chuckled, releasing his hold on Thena to help Jack with the second, smaller snowball.

Jack watched his uncle pick up the snow barehanded. But he had also watched Uncle Gil pull stuff out of the oven without ovenmitts, so maybe he was the one exception to that rule, even among Eternals.

"Just two?" Phastos called out to them from the porch, "it's gotta be three pieces, Gil! C'mon, I'd expect you to know that!"

"We live in Australia!"

Ben hid himself behind his husband as he saw Thena's hand go up. Right in his assumption, he heard the snowball make contact with Phastos. "Oof, that sounded intense, Habibi. Are you okay?"

Thena merely looked at her brother, holding another densely packed snowball in her hand. "Shall you be a Fighter today, brother?"

"Oh, you are so in for it," the Genius Eternal chuckled. He pulled some snow to his hand with his powers, using them to shape it into the most perfect of spheres before launching it.

Gil caught it in his fist before it could reach her, the snow exploding back into powder as soon as it was in proximity to his Cosmic Energy, "nice try!"

"Jack, help your Dad!" Phastos cried out as he dove behind the barbecue for cover.

"Every man for himself!" Jack screamed out in a laugh as Aunt Thena menacingly approached him with a loose handful of snow.

"There's no escape, Jack!" Gil laughed as he caught their nephew, who was prepared for the capture and tossed a snowball at him. "Sneak attack!"

Jack scrambled up the back porch to his father's side. "Alliance?"

"Alliance," Phastos nodded seriously at his son, peeking out to look at the backyard. "They're gonna be hard to fight."

"We can do it," Jack said as his other father crouched down in their huddle as well. "Uncle Gil will get distracted by Aunt Thena soon and then we can get 'im."

"I believe our time is now," Ben chuckled, pointing around the barbecue's covering.

"Gil!" Thena laughed as he wrapped his arms around her waist, spinning them around with snow at their feet. It almost looked like they were still in the snowball fight, but it quickly devolved into him dipping her down in his arms to kiss her amidst their little dance.

"Now, Jack, now!" Phastos whispered, handing Jack a perfectly crafted snowball.

"I don't wanna hit Aunt Thena!"

"Let your father throw it," Ben chuckled, ruffling his son's hat.

Phastos had no trouble taking aim at his sister. But of course, there was no getting a sneak attack in on the Warrior Eternal. Phastos sighed as she let her shield materialise to block their kiss.

Gil pulled them upright again, staring at Thena as the snow fell gently into her already sparkling hair. He stared into her eyes, catching his reflection in them. "I almost forgot how beautiful you are in the snow."

Thena blushed softly, leaning into his touch as he held her cheeks in his hands, "almost?"

"I could never," he whispered before pulling her into another kiss.

Thena sighed against his lips, reaching inside his coat to wrap her arms around him.

Gil's lips gave her an extra little bump as the snowball collided with the back of his head. He brushed it off, of course, turning around to glare at his brother (who was being abandoned by his husband and child, knowing what was to come).

Thena, already crafting the densest snowball yet, relented as Gil held his hand out. "Don't crush it."

"I won't," he laughed, holding it just so and letting his Cosmic Energy build up behind his hand instead of in his palm. Ben held Jack a good distance away, both of them laughing in preparation for what was to come.

"Now, Gil," Phastos held his hands out, moving away from his precious barbecue so it wouldn't get caught in the crossfire. "Let's just...talk this through."

But Gilgamesh was already laughing. "No one interrupts me when I'm kissing my wife!"

The snowball flew, faster than any pitch any human professional could make. The ball of snow hit Phastos like a brick, tossing his sturdy body into the side of the house and then down to the powdery snow below.

Ben laughed. "Darling, are you okay?"

"Fine," Phastos grumbled in return. It had been a long time since he'd trained or sparred with any of his relatives. How could he forget the punch Gil packed in whatever he did? And this was Gil, joking around and having a good time. If Thena decided she wanted to get serious... "I yield!"

Thena had been preparing an attack of her own when she heard his admission of defeat. She sighed, knowing it would only be dishonourable to attack him now. She dropped her tightly packed snowball - half of it pure ice - to the ground, "fine."

"Dad!" Jack ran over to his father to help him up. "That was so cool!"

Gil wrapped his arm around Thena's waist again, all of them slowly heading back inside after their little battle. "You get it out of your system?"

"Hm," Thena mused. Gil wasn't asking if she had burned off her energy; he was asking if she was going to try and get revenge on Phastos later for the snowball he'd thrown. "Maybe."

Gil kissed her cheek, "Ben and I will be cooking dinner in the kitchen. Just don't do anything to damage the house."

"Of course," she murmured, letting her husband nuzzle his cold nose into the hollow of her cheek. He took her coat right off of her, as well as the scarf that had, at one time, been Phastos'. She pulled Jack's hat off his head for him.

"Aunt Thena, come on, you can show me how to use my new sword game!" Jack beamed at her, pulling her to the tv where Ben was hooking up the motion sensors necessary for it.

Phastos smiled as his son excitedly booted up his new game. Thena looked ever serious as the Warrior Eternal, but Jack could have no one better to show him how to stand and how to move without hurting himself. As much as it was in her nature, it was a nice change to see her smiling as she instructed.

"Cute, isn't it?" Gil chuckled beside his brother before setting his stockpot full of ingredients. "Be careful, though."

"Huh?"

"Thena hasn't forgotten you nailing me in the back of the head with that snowball," Gil advised as he started sharpening the knives and Ben pulled the turkey out of its salt brine. "She's still gonna get you for that."

"Oh, come on, you already got me," Phastos sighed, although he knew it was true. His sister was the Warrior Eternal, and she did not forgive any transgression against the Strongest Eternal.

"Yeah," Gil snorted, "but she didn't."

"I'm sure Thena's more mature than that," Phastos said loudly, as if that alone would keep him safe.

Thena listened from where she was watching Jack play his new game. She grinned as she heard Phastos scream at the top of his lungs. He could assume about her maturity all he wanted, but she had put snow in his slippers, in the sleeves of his house robe, even inside his news paper, all in the name of her husband.

#I'm bumping this up in the queue #because it's mistlefoe season #happy holidays everyone #I hope you're taking care of yourselves #Jack and Thenamesh again #because we're here for good vibes today everyone #but is Gil still going to flirt with his wife? #of course! #Thenamesh #always has time to flirt #whether they've been married for hundreds of years at this point or not #And if anyone #has the audacity to throw snow at Gilgamesh #they are going to get to know why Thena is called the Goddess of War #especially if he's their brother #I mean she's already taken his scarf from him #Jack gets to see his dad actually acting like siblings with them #and Phastos gets to see them acting like a family with his son #everybody wins

[blizzardfluffykpop]

12 Days of Winter Year 6 [Wintertime]

Prompt List

By Days:

Snowfall (Wonwoo X Reader) [Drabble]

Together (Gunil X Reader)

Pine Tree (Jiseok X Reader)

Christmas Tree (Yeo One X Reader)

A New Beginning (Changkyun X Reader)

Cocoa Spill (Mingyu X Reader)

Frozen Treats (Jiseok X Reader)

Winter Break (Dino X Reader)

Favorite Person (Hyungwon X Reader)

Dancing Again (Minhyuk X Reader)

Ice Block (Jooheon X Reader)

Christmas Miracle (Dino X Reader) [Pt. 2 to Winter Break]

By Prompts:

Frozen Treats (Jiseok X Reader)

Favorite Person (Hyungwon X Reader)

Pine Tree (Jiseok X Reader)

Ice Block (Jooheon X Reader)

Snowfall (Wonwoo X Reader) [Drabble]

Together (Gunil X Reader)

Christmas Tree (Yeo One X Reader)

Cocoa Spill (Mingyu X Reader)

Winter Break (Dino X Reader)

A New Beginning (Changkyun X Reader)

Dancing Again (Minhyuk X Reader)

Christmas Miracle (Dino X Reader) [Pt. 2 to Winter Break]

Bonus: How I think XH Wrap Presents 💖

#12 days of winter #12 days of christmas #wintertime #christmas #kpop #masterlist #12 days of winter year 6 #12 days of winter year 6 masterlist #12 days of winter masterlist #12 days of christmas masterlist #kpop masterlist #christmas masterlist #wintertime masterlist #seventeen #pentagon #monsta x #xdinary heroes #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #happy holidays everyone i hope you're all doing well take care of yourselves! #i successfully completed this year and i couldn't be more proud #if you had a favorite this year/or see this tag by chance pls let me know your favorite fic 🥺💖 i think mine was a new beginning

[verstappen-cult]

# WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I WENT TO TOUCH YOU NOW? | CL16

Or. . . 5 times you and Charles reach for the other and are oblivious about it + 1 time you aren’t.

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader.

Content Warnings: Smut, fingering, unprotected sex. Just two oblivious in love. This one is long, so, prepare yourself, go grab a cup of coffee and a snack. I haven’t written smut in a very long time so don’t expect anything fancy and please be nice. Enjoy! xx

You and Charles can’t keep your hands to yourselves. Everyone can see that. Everyone but you two.

Charles is always reaching for you. He’s the first one leaning in to kiss your cheek as a greeting when you see each other, lingering for a couple of seconds with his cheek against yours, feeling your soft skin, with his hand squeezing your waist ever so slightly. When you are out with your friends he’s always trying to sit by your side, waiting for the right moment to put his arm in the back of your chair, fingers brushing your shoulder and keeping up with the conversation as if nothing is happening. Charles tries to be smooth about it, he really tries.

And you are always reaching for Charles. Well, as his Press Officer it’s your job to be by his side. When you need him to pay attention to you as you’re explaining the plan for the day, you make sure to grab him by his biceps, not letting him go until you are finished, and even then you take a couple of seconds to pull away. Every time you pass each other around the paddock, you always find a way to catch his arm, his shoulder or his waist. Even when he’s too busy and late to something and you don’t actually need him for anything, he makes time for you.

But it wasn’t always like that.

There was a time when you would not even dare to think about touching him, too shy and wanting to be professional. It was a little hard when you had to be by his side almost all day, every day. You would try to not look directly at him – impossible to do given that you needed to do your job – but then Charles started to make a few jokes to break the ice and make some conversation, started to ask about your day, he started to care. And, well, the rest is history.

#1

New Year’s isn’t your favorite holiday, so, you spent it at home watching romcoms and went to sleep even before the clock hit midnight. Your friends weren’t happy but you promised to make it up to them. That is why you could not say no when your friends invited you to spend a few days with them on a Ski resort in Italy. Winter break was about to be over, after all. So, you showed up at the train station with all your bags and a little sleep deprived.

“I was about to call the police. I thought you were bailing on us.” Your friend says as a greeting, helping you with your bags. “You look like shit.”

“Oh, thank you, how sweet of you.” You roll your eyes but let her kiss your cheek. “I’ve been a little busy with the new season starting in a couple of weeks.”

“Let’s not talk about work,” You get on the train after her, looking for your seats and the rest of the group. “we actually told the same thing to Charles.”

You’re about to ask her what does she mean by that when you see the brown hair of Charles Leclerc. The next thing you see is his smile, dimples on display.

Since you started working with Charles as Media — then when you were promoted to PR Officer — there has not been a day you two haven't been together or communicating one way or another. So, anyone can say that becoming friends was bound to happen.

You make your way to him without a second thought.

"Hey, Charlie." Charles moves to the side, leaving the spot beside him free for you to sit. Which you immediately do.

"Are you excited?" He asks, turning his whole attention to you.

You have to look away, his green eyes looking at you so intensely that you feel he can see right through you into your soul.

"I've never skied before." You admit, cheeks flushed.

Charles' eyebrows shot up, his eyes flashing with enthusiasm. "Oh, you're gonna have so much fun."

The train starts moving, making you both look outside. You weren't planning on sitting with Charles, but you're not gonna stand up and leave him. Not that you actually want that.

You're about to ask him about the place you're going to spend the next days in when a yawn messes up everything.

Charles smiles softly at you, his hand patting your knee. He leaves it there for one, two, three, four seconds before removing it.

"It's not that far, really. But you could—" He clears his throat, eyes darting around. "I've been told my shoulder is the best spot to take a nap. It’s like very comfortable." Charles has a teasing but shy smile on his face, gaze finally landing on you.

You feel your face burning. You don't even need to look at yourself in a mirror to know how red your face is, probably the same color as his racing suit.

You look between his shoulder and his eyes, pretending to think about it when, in reality, you've made up your mind the second he stopped talking.

"I don't wa—"

Charles shakes his head, moving a little closer until your left side is touching his right one, not a breeze could pass between you.

You sigh, fidgeting with your fingers as you let your head rest on his shoulder. His scent hits you immediately, is calming, warm, earthy. And it reminds you of the cabin in the woods you and your family used to spend winters in when you were a kid. Surrounded by tall, green trees and a still lake.

The last thing you feel before falling asleep is Charles resting his head on top of yours.

*

"I can't do it. No, nope." You say, trying to move away, but the skis don't let you go that far.

"Yes, you can." Charles says from behind, startling you. You weren't expecting him to stay behind with you and your Ski instructor. "Just— let me." He tells the instructor, urging him to move out of the way.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m teaching you the basics,” He explains casually, as if you don’t have a certified instructor waiting a few meters away.

You smile when he positions himself by your side, too busy trying to make you stand correctly to notice how fondly you're looking at him.

"So, you need to bend your knees a little," You don't know if he notices, but his hands finding your waist to help you move just like he wants you to, send a shiver down your body. You can feel his warmth even through the layers of clothes. "Just like that, yes. You're doing great." Can he shut up? If he's going to praise you every time you do something right, you're not going to survive.

You look over your shoulder when you hear your friend's voices. You catch the exact moment they see you two and stop walking to turn around and go back to where they were before.

"Now, lean forward." Charles instructs you and you follow. Trying to regulate your breathing but with Charles so close to you is an impossible task. "Amazing!" You just leaned. It’s not that hard. "I need to— um... excuse me." He whispers, lowering one of his hand to your thigh and spreading your legs a little. When Charles looks up, his cheeks are tinted with a pretty pink color. You know you're blushing too.

Charles keeps on teaching you the basics. You even move a few meters with him by your side, his hands on your waist at all times.

"You're ready." The Monégasque says, smiling. "You are a fast learner, is she not?" From the first time in what feels like a lifetime, he asks the instructor, who is immediately moving closer.

"Of course," The man says, a polite smile directed at you. "Now we can slide down the mountain. And I'm going to be by your side at all times, so, you don’t need to worry."

You nod, excited to start skiing. Finally.

"You can go, Mr. Leclerc." The Italian man says. But Charles doesn’t move, he just keeps on looking at you, hands still on your waist. At this point you feel like they belong there. “Uh, Mr. Leclerc?” He insists. This time Charles looks at him, shaking his head to rearrange his thoughts. “If you want to go, I’ll take care of her.”

“Oh, yes! Sure, yeah.” Charles pulls away, leaving the ghost of his touch behind. “You’re gonna be alright?”

“I’m sure I’ll survive, Charlie.” He makes you chuckle. “I had a pretty good instructor and I have another one ready to catch me if I fall.”

It looks like Charles wants to say something else but chooses not to and, instead, looks at you one final time before sliding down the mountain.

“So, let’s go?” Your instructor positions himself by your side in the same spot Charles was before.

He doesn’t touch you like Charles did. And you don’t feel as safe as you felt with Charles by your side.

#2

It’s Ferrari SF-24 Launch day. Winter's break is over and Charles is back in Maranello.

Charles hasn’t seen you since yesterday evening, after spotting you having dinner with members of the PR team and, without thinking so much about it, walked into the restaurant. Someone invited him and he didn't hesitate to grab a chair and sit by your side.

It was a very pleasant dinner. And Charles didn't let anyone pay for it.

You said your goodbyes after that and you made sure to remind him that he needed to be before 8:00 AM for the launch, and to have time to go over all the details of what Charles needed to do that day.

That’s most definitely the only explanation as to why Charles is getting out of his car at 7:15 in the morning. Not because he wants to see you, of course not. It’s just because he has a lot of things to do. It’s an important day, after all.

“Good morning.” Charles greets some people of the team that are passing by, rushing to get everything ready for the launch in less than an hour.

He’s in a good mood. He just knows it’s going to be a great day. Charles also knows it’s gonna be his year.

"You're early."

Charles turns around at the sound of your voice. He finds you checking the time on your watch, a teasing smile adorning those plump, pink lips of yours.

"You said before eight."

You laugh, walking down the hallway. "Yeah, but not so early." He follows you, trying to catch up with you. "However, I'm glad you decided to show up on time, we have a lot to do."

"I wanna go back to sleep." He complains, pouting like a child.

He makes you laugh, again. Charles thinks your laugh is his favorite sound in the world. Beside the sound of the SF-24.

Charles really likes to make you laugh.

"Wait, are you laughing at me?" He pretends to be offended, and you mimic the sound of his voice, bringing your hand to your chest.

"Me? Never!"

"You sure?" He stops walking, stopping right in front of you. "Because you know what I'm gonna do if you're actually laughing at me?"

You look at him suspiciously, fighting the smile that wants to make its way into your face.

Charles takes a step towards you, making you take a step back.

"Charles, whatever you're thinking—don't."

"What? I'm not doing anything!" He sounds innocent, even raising his hands in surrender. But he's still walking towards you, shortening the distance until he's so close you can count the freckles on his face.

Before you notice what's happening, he's tickling you.

It makes you throw all the things you had on your hands to the floor. You try to pull away and make him stop, but he just keeps going.

Your laugh fills the hallway you're currently in.

But you can't take it anymore, your stomach hurting for laughing so much. It’s also only a matter of time before someone comes to see what's happenig, so, you do the only thing your brain can conjure up to make him stop: hit him. Even if it's just a little push.

You raise your arms, ready to push him and defend yourself. But Charles reflexes are good and so fast, because before you can do anything, he's grabbing your wrists stopping you.

Your laugh dies in your throat.

Charles amusement is clear on his face, eyes shining with mirth.

"You are," You take a deep breath, trying to regulate your rapid breathing. "a very bad man."

He laughs, throwing his head backwards. "I'm just defending my honor, boss."

You shake your head, throwing daggers at him with your eyes. But Charles doesn’t react at all, he just caresses the inside of your wrists with his thumb.

“I promise to behave if you don’t laugh at me again.” He pouts, and your heart does a black flip inside your chest, skipping several beats.

Hesitantly, you reach out to rest a hand on his chest, giving him a little playful push. You’re not sure if you imagine the shiver you feel under your hand or if it really happens.

You chuckle, looking straight into his eyes. “I can’t make that promise.”

Charles lets go of your wrists against his will. He bends over to pick up the things you were carrying, but doesn’t give them back to you.

“If we end up getting scolded, I’m blaming you.”

Charles looks at you for what feels like hours, taking you in. He really thinks he could just watch you all day and he’d find a new freckle on your face, or a glint in your eyes he hadn’t seen before.

He leans in, so, so close, that feels your breath hitch. Charles thinks you’re gonna pull away for a second but you don’t make a move, you just keep looking at him with a indescribable expression.

“You can do whatever you want. I’ll take it.” He says in your ear, kissing your cheek before pulling away.

You stop breathing, all you can do is blink at him while your mind echoes his words.

“Shall we?”

Charles doesn’t wait for you, he resumes his walking anyway. It takes you a long time to snap out of it and follow him.

You can’t even remember what you are supposed to be doing today.

#3

It’s day two of pre-season testing in Bahrain.

You’re in the middle of talking with a reporter about the questions he can ask Charles when you are interrupted by a hand being placed on your lower back. You immediately recognize the perfume.

"Hey, I was looking for you." Charles says, fingers caressing the spot between your shirt and your trousers. His calloused hand drawing patters on your lower back shouldn't make you feel as flustered as you feel. It's not the first time he does it, so why can't you just act normal?

"Hey, Charles." The reporter says, drawing the Monégasque's attention. "Can I ask you just a few questions about second day of testing?" He doesn't need to ask him, you already agreed about it.

Charles look at you, silently asking if it's okay.

"Just testing, okay?" You tell the reporter, who nods in understanding, already moving in front of Charles alongside his camera man.

Charles squeezes your waist before giving two pats on your lower back, so low that he's almost touching your ass. You eyes widen and you take a sharp intake of breath. You really try to play it cool. But you can tell Charles noticed your reaction when you see the smirk on his beautiful, stupid face.

The reporter begins with the first question, Charles' eyes only snapping to him when the man draws his attention.

You don't listen to one single question, which is, you know, an idiotic mistake because being alert of what a reporter's asking is basically your job. But you find yourself looking at Charles' lips more than one time during the six minutes the interview lasts.

You can't do nothing more than to stand there frozen in place.

The reporter thanks Charles, that much you hear, but you still can't seem to snap back to the present. What is Charles doing? He's being extra touchy lately, not that it bothers you, but you can't seem to focus in anything when he has a hand on any part of your body. Then, add that intense gaze that, apparently, has reserved for you only.

Charles is definitely going to be the death of you.

"You seem to have your head in the clouds." Charles' accented voice is what draws you back to reality.

"What?"

What he does next is definitely something you were not expecting, not now, not even in a million years.

Charles cups your chin with his right hand, thumb brushing your bottom lip. If you weren't hyper aware of every little movement, you wouldn't have felt it.

Your gaze drops to his lips and Charles has the nerve to stick his tongue out to lick his lips. They look so wet and inviting, all you need to do is move an inch closer and lean in to—

"See something you like?"

You feel your heartbeat in your ears, so loud you're pretty sure everyone in Bahrain can hear it. Charles waits for your answer as you panic, replaying his words over, and over again for minutes or hours — you don't even know.

You take Charles' hand and guide it away from your face. It takes all the willpower inside of you to let go of his hand and run away from him.

#4

It wasn't a great start of the season. Everyone agrees on that. Even the boy stepping out of the Ferrari, who started the first race of the season in front row and had such a hard time trying to drive and secure a spot on the podium.

You are glad at least one Ferrari got there in the end. But you're not as happy as you'd be if Charles was the one standing there.

Charles takes his helmet and balaclava off, his messy hair standing in every direction while sweat runs down his face. You force yourself to look away.

He makes his way to you, given that you have his cap and rings. Charles really tries to smile at you, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You know how disappointed he is. With himself and his team. Mostly with himself.

“Just a few questions and then you’ll be on your way to the hotel, okay?” Charles just nods, busy putting all his rings and bracelets on.

Charles feels like shit. All he wants to do is go back to the hotel and sleep, he doesn't even want to know what happened or how they can fix it for next week. He wants to sleep.

"Hey," You stand a little closer, not thinking about anything but trying to make him talk, say anything to pull him out of his head. "It's just the first race of the season. There are a lot more to go." You rub the back of his neck, feeling the hairs there stand up.

Charles closes his eyes and lets his head fall forward. So, you take it as a good sing to keep rubbing and massaging.

Charles groans when you rub between his neck and shoulder, a very sensitive spot for him. He slowly opens his eyes again, looking at you from beneath his eyelashes.

"Come on, let's finish with this and get you to bed." You tentatively slide your hand over his shoulder and left side of his body, stopping at his waist to wrap an arm around it.

For the first time since the race finished, you see a smile forming on his lips. When you make eye contact, you know he has the perfect answer for it and, for the looks of it, it's definitely going to leave you flustered.

"If you wanted me in your bed that badly, all you had to do was ask."

It definitely makes you flush furiously, but you decide not to say anything. Mostly because you don't know what to say. Charles has been saying all these things for a very long time now and you don't know what it means, what he's playing at.

You let go of Charles when you reach the reporter, moving a little to the side to give them some space. The reporter knows what to ask but you still are on high alert, she's known for asking rude and out of place questions.

At first everything goes alright, so, you use that time to answer some messages and check out some emails. Until what the woman says next, makes your heart drop.

"You say you are capable, but it is your fault alm—" You don't let her finish, you interrupt the interview immediately by standing in front of Charles, like trying to shield him from the hurtful words of an unprofessional reporter.

"I'll make sure you receive a fine for that." It's all you say before blindly reaching for Charles.

You take his hand, dragging him out of there. You don't stop for nothing, not when a reporter asks for an interview, not when fans approach Charles to ask for pictures.

You keep walking and walking until you are in front of Charles' driver room. Your heart is hammering inside your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"I'm going to talk to—"

Charles grabs your shoulders, turning you around so you're looking at him. "Don't worry about it. You know I don't care about what they say."

His words make you angry.

"But I care!" You exclaim, immediately regretting it. The corners of Charles' mouth go downwards, and he steps closer. "She deserves that fine."

"I know she deserves it and she will get it," His hands trail over your arms, stopping at your wrists for a second before holding your hands. "but right now I need a hug."

You blink up at him.

"Would you hug me?"

He doesn't need to ask twice. You are moving before you actually process his words, probably because you've been thinking about hugging him since the first time he announced over the radio how the brakes where not responding to him.

Sliding your hand around his shoulders comes like a second nature to you, like is something you've done your whole life. You don't care that he's drenched in sweat, you hide your face in the crook of his neck anyways. And it's then that you learn how much you like the mixture of his scent with the sweat of racing for over two hours.

Charles wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly against his body. It's then that he learns how well you fit against his body. Like you belong there. He knows you belong in his arms.

#5

Charles finished third.

It's his first podium of the season.

You wait by the side but he doesn't see you. He has the most pretty and bright smile on his face as he removes the balaclava from his head. He has the most pretty and bright smile when he greets and congratulates Max and Checo.

And you really think that his smiles widens when he finally looks to the side, right where you are alongside his Ferrari team.

Charles makes his way to his team. Everyone is so happy cheering for him and congratulating him for his first podium. Everyone is happy.

But no one can't he as happy as you are.

Not when he sees you for the first time and rushes to hug you. It's quick, not enough, but they're pulling him away for the post-race interview. He needs to go up on that podium and make everyone proud.

*

You’re pretty sure you took like a dozen pictures of Charles on the podium. The ones where he's looking down at his team are your favorites because it looks like he's looking at you.

Post-race Charles is your favorite kind of Charles. But post-race Charles on the podium... that has to be what being in heaven feels like.

You laugh as you see him approaching hospitality with his trophy and champagne, and a broad smile spread over his face.

He's surrounded by people in a matter of seconds, as wells as Ollie by his side who can't seem to stop smiling. You're very proud of them.

When you see a few reporters approaching, you take into action.

The second Charles sees you, he's forgetting about anything and everyone around him. All he wants is to hug you and tell you how well and right it felt, but there are so many people that he has to settle with you grabbing the hem of his race suit to make him walk into hospitality, away from everyone.

"Go take a shower. Your team wants to celebrate, even Carlos wants to go." You smile up at him.

You don't know how to describe the expression on his face, so, you simply don't.

He snaps out of a his trance and makes his way to his driver room, but when you call his name he stops, turning around so fast that his neck starts to hurt.

"I'm so proud of you, Charlie."

Charles doesn't care if the trophy or the champagne bottle breaks, he just let them fall to the floor and runs to you, lifting you in his arms.

You giggle, feeling light as a feather. Like you're actually on cloud nine.

"Charlie!" Andrea's voice startles the both of you.

You are forced to pull away, but Charles leaves his hand on your waist, not letting you go completely.

"Come on, hurry up! We want to celebrate."

Andrea doesn't bat an eye, he doesn't care that he found you and Charles in a compromising position — kind of? well, it definitely is unprofessional — and that you still are very close to each other.

Charles groans and lets you go. You miss his touch already.

"Don't drink too much, okay?"

"As if I would let him." Andrea says, rolling his eyes.

"I'm a grown man!" Charles screams before shutting the door of his room.

+1

You're watching a movie in bed — wrapped in a hotel bathrobe, freshly out of the shower, with a delicious lotion on your body and feeling like a pampered baby — when there's a knock on your door.

When you open the door, you find a disheveled and out of breathe Charles standing there, leaning against the opposite wall.

"Charles?" You ask, confused.

You look to both sides of the hallway but nobody else is there.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were out celebrating."

"I was—" He says, breathing heavily. "I was but then I just — I realized that I didn't want to be there."

"Okay?" You're not getting any of what he's saying, more confused than ever. "Are you drunk?"

"No! I barely drank anything. It was just a glass."

"Then," You shrug, looking behind you into the room. "I was watching a movie. Do you... want to come in?"

You still don't know why he knocked on your door, but you are not letting him out in the hallway.

Charles accepts the invitation. Just not in the way you would've thought.

It takes you a second to notice a pair soft lips against your own. But when you finally register that you are being kissed, Charles is pulling away from you, a shy smile on his face.

"What are you doing?" You ask, trying to find some coherent words in your fuzzy brain.

Charles' face falls, shoulder slumping slightly. "Oh, shit. I'm so sorry." He starts rambling, moving his hands in the air. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking properly. I thought—we had, I mean... You and—"

You couldn't take it anymore. You needed to take him out of his misery. That's definitely the only reason why you crashed your lips with his, pressing yourself against his body.

Charles moves quickly, walking you backwards into the room and closing the door with his foot.

You sigh into the kiss. A sigh that says finally.

"I think," You whisper against his lips, gasping for air. But Charles keeps on assaulting your lips. "we should talk ab—"

Charles groans pulling away, just enough to talk, lips brushing against yours with every breath. "We could. Or I could show you all the things I've been dreaming on doing to you, and we can talk later."

Your heart starts thumping so fast that your breath hitches in your throat. Charles takes your silence, and your body's reaction, as a yes.

This time, Charles takes his time. He cups your cheek with one hand, thumb caressing your cheekbone so softly — as if you’re made of glass and could break at any moment — and sliding lower, the pad of his finger brushing against your bottom lip.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers, gaze fixed on your plump lips.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since…” You try try to think about it, to remember the very first time you thought about Charles being more than a friend. But it seems like it has always been that way.

“Forever.” Charles finishes for you.

Yes! Your insides scream.

“Would you let me show you?”

You frown, titling your hear to the side. “What?”

“How much I want you.”

There’s no need to verbally say yes, you find that is so much better if you show him. So, you kiss him.

Kissing Charles feels like walking in a soft, pillowy cloud, like everything is falling back into place, like things are how they always should have been.

There is warmth blossoming in your chest, fireworks exploding all around you as Charles leans in closer, lips exploring each other for the first time. You hold onto Charles' shoulder as if you're gonna fall and wake up, realize that this was just a dream. You don't want it to be a dream.

You let him guide you to the bed as his hands rest on your hips, wrinkling the bathrobe with his hands.

His lips are soft yet the kiss is demanding. Your lips part slightly, allowing Charles' tongue to slip inside and explore your mouth.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he pulls away. His pupils are dilated and his breathing erratic. "You don't—" He sighs, closing his eyes as if trying and ground himself. Charles takes your hand, silently asking for permission and, when you nod, guides it to his crotch, making you feel how hard he is. "You don't even know the effect you have on me."

Charles doesn't give you time to answer, not even to think about anything but how much you want to kiss him, and feel him, and be his.

"Can I unfasten this?" He asks, lips trailing kisses down your neck. You nod your approval, but Charles shakes his head. "I need words, baby."

"Yes," You don't recognize your own voice, it's feels strange to your ears. "Yes, you can."

Charles smiles, grazing his teeth along your neck, nipping and sucking along the way. You moan when he sucks right above your pulse point.

He takes his time unfastening your bathrobe, letting it fall slowly the floor. In seconds, you're completely bare in front of him. You should feel ashamed, a part of you actually feels embarrassed to be naked in front on a man — in front of Charles. But right now, desire and longing are coursing through your veins, clouding your mind. Your body screams for Charles.

Charles hands are soft on your skin, he splays them on your chest, feeling the thumping of your heart; it makes him smile.

"Would you lay down for me?" He purrs. And who are you to say no?

With shaky legs you climb onto the bed, lying down against the pillows. You can still hear the movie playing in the background, but you couldn't care less, not right now.

You can only watch as Charles removes every piece of clothing from his body. You knew Charles was well toned, you have seen Charles without a shirt, but seeing him here in your room, in a whole different context, makes you close your legs and lift your hips from the bed, searching for something, anything that only Charles can give you.

He rubs his hands up your legs, rubbing your thighs, as he climbs on top of you. His lips find yours one more time, your breath quivering.

"So pretty." Charles grunts, basking in your beauty. It lasts only a couple of seconds because you hide behind your hands. "No need to hide, baby." He pulls your hands away, sliding them over your collarbone, stopping on your chest and grabbing your breasts.

You arch your back against his touch, moans spilling from your mouth and filling the room.

"So good, so, so good." You blurt out, getting lost in the pleasure his hands are giving you, pinching and squeezing your breasts. One of his hands is replaced for his mouth, and you have to force yourself to open your eyes to see the view of Charles on top of you, making you come undone with his mouth.

His left hand leaves your breast as his mouth keeps the assault on your breast, he slowly lowers it to part your legs, making you squirm.

You've never been this wet before, and Charles notices the moment his fingers make contact with your cunt. Charles begins to rub circles on your throbbing clit, a desperate whine escaping your lips.

"Please," You beg, the only word leaving your lips over and over again.

Charles takes pity on you, knowing exactly what you need. So, he gives it to you; one of his fingers slips in, causing you to buck your hips involuntarily.

"So good for me." Charles croons, taking your lips with his own, swallowing all your moans. "You think you can take my cock, pretty girl?" He asks, slipping in another finger, pressing them upward. Your brain feels fuzzy, but in such a good way. You don't need to be asked twice, a yes leaves you lips immediately as you grind your hips desperately into his hand.

"I can, Charles—please I can take it." You moan, making Charles slow his movements.

Charles pulls out his fingers, and you whine desperately at the loss. "I got you, baby." But then a thought crosses his mind and he curses under his breath, closing his eyes for a second. "I don't—shit I don't have a condom."

You make grabby hands, making him lean forward so you can touch him. You cup his face with your hands, eyes finding his green ones. There's sweat on his forehead, his face flushed, and you think that post-race Charles and bedroom Charles are definitely battling to win first place.

"We're both clean, I know." You graze your fingers over his pecs, making him shudder. "Just—please, Charlie. I need you."

Who is he to say no to you?

The mere thought of fucking you bare is enough to send his mind reeling.

Charles aligns himself between your legs, the tip of his cock gathering your wetness and making you both moan at the feeling.

You dig your nails in his shoulder as he slowly starts to bury himself inside of you. Charles leans to kiss you, and is messy and wet, tongues and spit mix together as you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling ever so slightly, which makes him moan against your mouth. So you do it again.

Charles kisses you with so much desperation, desire consuming you both. He bottoms out and you can't reciprocate the kiss anymore, not when he stars slamming his hips, setting an agonizing pace.

Charles fucks you into the bed wincing as he feels you bite his shoulder, a poor attempt of trying not to scream and let the whole hotel floor know what you are doing.

"How does it feel? Is that what you wanted, uh?" He groans, brushing a strand of hair out of your sweaty face.

"Yeah, feels so good, Char. So good." Your whole body is burning, you feel so deliciously filled.

Charles bends your legs, pushing them against your chest as he finds a new angle to keep on fucking you. He starts thrusting faster, holding onto your legs so hard you know there will be bruises tomorrow.

It's too much. You don't even have time nor words to warn him before you are coming, clenching around Charles' cock.

"So tight. So. Fucking. Tight." Charles whispers, pace faltering as he feels his own climax approaching. He keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm.

You are a moaning, whimpering mess, and you let Charles use you as much as he likes, you let it know that over and over again.

"That's it, baby. 'm gonna come now," Those are Charles' final words as he pulls out, pumping himself a few more times until he's painting your chest with his cum.

Charles plops down on the bed next to you, both panting and completely exhausted.

"Are you okay?" He asks in a hoarse voice.

You turn to look at him, fingers playing with his cum on your chest. The only thing you can do is nod, too exhausted to even to talk.

"What? Did I fuck your brains out?" Charles teases, leaning in to leave a chaste kiss to your lips. It's so innocent and soft, the total opposite of what you did just moments ago.

"Shut up!" You breathe out, giggling. There is still a buzzing in your ears and a tingling sensation in your cunt. But you feel good.

"Come on," He says, standing up and reaching for your hands.

You frown, standing on shaky legs. He teases you some more and you end up pushing him away.

"What are we doing?"

"Taking a bath," He explains, tugging at your hand. "We need to clean you up."

"I just took a shower, this is all your fault." You complain, his green eyes boring into you.

"You liked it." It's not a question.

He tugs at your hand again and you follow, you really would follow Charles to the end of the world. Charles can't hide the big, stupid smile on his face. "You said you were watching a movie, so, we are going to watch a movie."

© verstappen-cult, 2024 — do not repost, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱ #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #f1 grid x reader

[genderqueerdykes]

while we are definitely happy for everyone celebrating, as a romance repulsed aromantic, we will not be reblogging/posting any Valentine's Day content due to always having felt alienated from and disgusted by the holiday

instead, i'd like to say that i hope that every aromantic, demiromantic, greyromantic, cupioromantic, allo aros, and every other arospectrum person, especially those of us who are romance repulsed has a great day, and that they care of themselves and prioritize their own needs for at least today. i'd also like to remind you that it's okay to dislike this holiday and want to avoid it.

it is not for us, even a partnering aromantic like myself has never enjoyed or celebrated it. i've always been forced and obligated to by past partners, and it's always been a tiring, uncomfortable, expensive slog. you should never feel obligated to spend money on something you do not wish to participate in, remember that.

take care of yourselves today, fellow aromantic spectrum people. of course it's okay if you celebrate, but if you don't, do what you want to do, fill your space and time with what you want today. feel no obligation to participate in activities that don't benefit you, spend your money how you please. keep showing people that humanity is full of diverse experiences, and don't force yourself to bend to things that do not suit you. have a great day, fellow aros

#aromantic #demiromantic #greyromantic #aromantic spectrum #arospec #aspectrum #aspec #lgbtqia #lgbtq #lgbt #queer #allo aro #alloaro #aroace #aromantic asexual #aro ace #cupioromantic #greyro #romance repulsed #our writing #about us

[jomamaofficial]

An Empty Vessel pt.2 (Dabi x Fem!Reader Dark Angst)

A/N: Happy holidays my lovely toes. I am so sorry for this delay, my laptop broke down 😃😃. I urge you all to read the TWs and CWs because I have delved into dark topics. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. I absolutely adore all of you, and I want to take this time to thank you guys for your support. Seeing your comments and messages motivates me to write :) <3. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Vague sexual harassment, substance abuse (weed, alcohol, smoking), death and bleeding. CW: SPOILER: Season 6, Dabi’s backstory, PFL, AFO and Shigiraki plot, swearing, vague mentions of intimate acts. Taglist: @marlenemckinnonsleftfoot @sukunasleftkneecap @istoleyourmanho3 @witherfag Masterlist Edit: Part 3 😼😼 Word Count: 2919. Summary: In the stories Rei used to read him, heroes always won. Reality wasn’t a story though. The villains won the Meta Liberation War after 6 years of fighting. With the death of Pro Hero Endeavour, and the reign of All For One, Dabi could finally leave his past as Touya Todoroki. He no longer had family. But what about the past that haunted him to this day. A family that belonged to Dabi, not Touya? One that escaped unborn?

——————————————————————————————————

Musutafu, Japan– it made international headlines. 

The Paranormal Liberation Force finally did it. 

The nation observed a minute of silence for the fall of Pro Hero Endeavour. 

Musutafu was now all for one. And the entire nation would soon suffer the same fate. 

Dabi stretched his neck to the left, stretching his right shoulder as he fought the growing tingles in his body. Chills ran up and down his spine as his eyes followed the tears of rain flooding the dimly-lit road.

He loved how empty this street was: no cars, no news reporters. There were no signs of nagging parents and their brat children, and there were no heroes patrolling the streets, strutting up and down like they owned the place.  

It was just him and the soft sound of the rain which seeped into his socks, staining them with the remains of what was now All For One’s headquarter city. 

Dabi wished to hear the familiar croak of Tomura’s voice: the back and forth banter, the late-night clicks of the video game console. Back when it was just them, the League of Villains. Tomura, Kurogiri, Toga, Twice, and him. Back when he didn’t ruin everything. 

Dabi never told anyone, but there was a tiny part of his soul that withered away when he was near All For One. 

Dabi felt small. He was 5’9; he never felt small. 

But that thing would always tower over him. His slimy touch was forcefully ingrained into Dabi’s skin— that thing touched him like he owned Dabi. 

And Dabi hated the way his mind memorised the way All For One used his crooked fingers to tilt Dabi’s head up to inspect him. 

“Oh he’s a little doll isn’t he, Tomura? Where do you find these pretty boys?”

He hated the way All For One laughed after; it was a broken wheeze that rang murder in Dabi’s mind. 

He watched as All For One forced Tomura to laugh with him, and Tomura’s apologetic eyes wavered when he looked back at Dabi. 

He hated Tomura for laughing that day. 

But he hated that laugh much more; the laugh that tainted the fresh air they stood in. 

Now, Musutafu’s entire air was tainted by that laugh. 

Now… Musutafu belonged to All For One. And Dabi could only hear that broken wheeze. 

It would follow him everywhere. 

So despite the rain’s destructive nature, Dabi allowed the weeping drops of the sky to fill the emptiness inside of him. The cool drops were better than the air. 

Dabi was just an empty vessel. Nowhere to go, no one to go back to. 

-

The Meta Liberation War quenched everyone’s thirst for blood. The dirt was saturated with the blood of heroes and villains alike. 

He found it amusing, he really did as he bore his vacant eyes into the rusting ground. Dabi watched as everyone’s blood mixed together under his foot. 

He raised his eyebrows, and chuckled.

‘All it took was death for them to stick together’. 

Dabi travelled further away from the battle ground, quite deliberate about the steps he took. He counted underneath a shallow breath.

“Fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven,” until he reached the sixty-second step. 

His heel pressed against the seeping soil surging scarlet. 

And the world was still. 

So still and silent that the gentle wind snuck up on the thin man, and he let out a broken gasp as his knees gave out. 

The ringing in his ear struck a bitter note. His chest heaved up and down, up and down, and his eyes were blankly fixed on the ground beneath him. Thick, warm blood oozed through the thin cloth that covered his knees. 

Enji Todoroki finally died. And Touya Todoroki was responsible for it. 

Touya Todoroki, after 7 years of persistent efforts, was officially fatherless. 

Finally, it dawned upon him: after 30 long years, Touya Todoroki couldn’t chase him anymore. He could finally find solace in Dabi. 

And Dabi was alone. He had no family. 

-

As the joint finally caught up to him, after four or five rookie puffs, the raven man started asking himself what he was doing here. 

Surrounded by a group of homeless men who he caught rummaging in the dumpster, they were huddled away into the darkness of a dimly lit alleyway. It smelled like shit, offending his heightened state of smell. Flies picked on the waste scattered below them, their constant buzz creating a monotonous flow. 

Dabi peeled his lips open as he felt each individual cell respire on his skin. His heart felt like it was growing inside of him, puncturing his dry lungs, getting louder and faster with each beat.

As a young boy, he saw Enji drink every evening for two years. Dabi used to sneak a sip when he was alone. Dabi was often alone. 

He caught Enji with a lit cigarette in his fingers. Dabi stole one and showed it to his friends. Dabi coughed a lot that day. 

Enji never touched drugs. He was against it. 

Dabi never took drugs; the thought of it never passed him. 

“How does it feel kid?” 

Dabi’s consciousness was dragged back to reality, the bleak colours of his surroundings painting a vibrant picture. 

“I can feel my skin breathing,” he responded, his lower jaw hanging open as he struggled to keep his neck straight. 

Howls of laughter echoed in the distance, but the scarred man took no notice. 

The joint was held to his lips, and Dabi took another puff. 

Dabi wanted to individually itch the surface of his eyes with his nails. It was miserable. 

But the ripple of the individual muscles in his cheeks felt so warm and happy when he smiled. That was less miserable. 

So he kept on smiling, jaw still gaping. His staples pulled against his grafts, but the molecular traces of marijuana in his bloodstream shielded him from the pain. 

Dabi was taken aback– gravity was working exponentially harder against him. A man touched the corner of his lips, the thick and coarse pad of his thumb sending him back, seven years ago.

Oh he’s a little doll isn’t he, Tomura?

“Boy”, the man slurred, “you’re bleeding.”

He shoved his bloodied thumb in Dabi’s face. 

Dabi struggled to focus his gaze on the thumb in front of him, switching between double and triple vision. 

“Can’t feel it,” he mumbled, his reactions delayed as he scooted away from the stranger. 

“Everything’s breathing except these.”

Dabi was mesmerised by the feeling of his grafts against the pads of his fingers. It restored the faint twinkle in his hollow eyes.  

“Why are you all fucked up everywhere, boy?”

It took a few moments to register, but Dabi did respond. 

“Useless mom, dick dad.” 

A unison of delayed ahhhs followed, and Dabi began to feel a knocking pressure trapped in the inner corners of his wide eyes.

“I was never his first choice,” Dabi chuckled. He wasn’t sure if they could hear him. They sure as hell couldn’t understand him, but he was fine with that. 

“I was his first born son. No fuckin’ use. Dropped me like I was a waste of time and money.” 

The offensive smell of the blunt dug him further away from reality. Dabi was content with his own company. 

It would always be just him, forever and always. Because after everyone leaves, you’re left with yourself– your only support. 

The more he delved into his loneliness, the louder he heard his skin breathe, it was deafening. And so the silence on his graft became even louder. 

For a man who was considered dead all his life, Dabi wasn’t used to his living body. Senses upon senses, he was bombarded with the constant reminder that he was still alive. Even his dead, unresponsive skin felt alive. Because it was the absence of feeling that felt different. 

-

Many people would describe euphoria as extreme feelings of bliss and joy. It was this boxed definition that led Dabi to believe that he could never feel euphoria. But in this moment, whilst Dabi sunk deeper into his conscience– his doubts finally quiet, time finally stopped. 

And his body finally let go. 

The familiar bud of the joint met his mouth again, and he inhaled the noxious fumes until he smoked his fears away into the midst of the neverending clouds in the night sky. The full moon gleamed down on his pale skin, bathing his grafts in a lunar embrace. 

Unlike the sun, which beat its scorching rays on his sensitive skin, the moon shyly kissed it, leaving trails of beautiful markings that soothed his aches. 

Dabi’s heart was working overtime. Blood rushed to his scalp, and his body completely shut down. There was one name that his heart called for. 

A name that belonged to the past. The moon shyly casted a glow on that face too, but it averted its lunar eyes when Dabi defiled his past, leaving trails of burns that caused her aches. 

He was wrong. 

Touya Todoroki, after 7 years of persistent efforts, had no family.  

But Dabi? 

Dabi had a family. 

-

Dabi woke up to blue skies and a gentle sun peeking behind the stained curtains. His body was sprawled on the tiny bed, his limbs spilling out the sides, here and there. He blindly groped for his phone in the midst of thin sheets, switching it on to check the time. 

09:23 AM. 

He groaned and threw a dark shirt on top of his eyes, blocking the obnoxious sun as he squirmed to find his sleep. 

Moments passed and all he could focus on was the neverending tick of the clock in the corridor. 

“Fuck it.”

Dabi slipped on some shirt, and put on some shoes, and slammed the door when he left. 

09:36 AM. 

No wonder he could hear the tick, the corridor was ghost-quiet. 

Routinely, Dabi heaved himself over to the bar, scanning the counter for a quick shot.

09:41 AM. 

Toga walked inside the lair, her hands hidden inside the cuffs of her cardigan. Dabi nodded at her as he let out a yawn. 

“Everyone die or summin’?”

Toga stared at him, her eyes glazed. 

Dabi immediately straightened up. 

“Wait, did they actua-”

“She’s gone.”

09:49 AM.

Dabi’s jaw tensed up, gripping the shot glass tighter. 

“Who’s gon-”

His body was jolted back into the counter, the loud glass shrieking as it fell from his hands. 

“Don’t you dare Dabi. Don’t you fucking dare.”

Her eyes were red. Her fist was clenched around the loose cloth that hung on him. 

Dabi averted his eyes from Toga, releasing a shallow breath. 

Toga’s chest hiccuped underneath her cardigan, and she hid her face into his chest, staining it with stale tears. 

“She’s gone,” she repeated, a broken record.  

Dabi clasped his arms around her, his hands patting her head. 

09:59 AM. 

“She left.” 

-

Dabi reached for the flask hidden in his inner pockets. Bony fingers struggled to open it, fine tremors running through his bones. 

‘Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen, eighteen…’ 

Door number eighteen. A few strides away. But the growing feeling of heaviness in Dabi’s feet warned him: it was going to be a marathon. 

Countless strangers pointed at the lone man in a tattered, thick jacket. Dabi grasped at the wire fence that separated the long stretches of the park and pavement, muttering something underneath his breath.

The sight of free cars strolling past him caught him off guard every single time. He had no sense of time, no sense of direction. 

He was far, far away from Musutafu. 

Here, the air felt fresher. 

It wouldn’t be long before it was infested either. 

But he had to owe All For One some credit. 

His reign of terror gave the PLF members a huge leverage when it came to accessing government files. 

Dabi flipped through piles of kojin bangō, particularly scanning through documents of 27 year-old mothers, registered births and quirk-hybrids, and a certain family name. 

He found everyone’s name, everyone’s identity; no one was safe. 

Yet the name his eyes yearned for was nowhere in sight. 

Countless days and nights were spent silently begging for a lead. On day 18, Dabi finally left the building, clutching onto a piece of paper close to his heart. 

Saira Uchiyama. 

Names didn’t match, but it was the only name that he could trace her back to. 

Dabi took the final steps up the road, feeling lighter than he had in days. 

It was on his right. There was but a sliver of road that separated Dabi and door number eighteen. 

His fingers started picking at the ripping cuticles on his nail bed, and the grown man started to track his breaths. 

He took a step. 

A car honked at him. 

“Watch where you’re going!”

Dabi didn’t draw back. 

He took another step, and another, and another. One more, maybe two. 

He could feel the gravel underneath his boots. Dabi lifted his broken face and a perfect house stared down at him. Pristine brick walls stood proud; the bright toned paint complimented the thriving flora in the yard. It fit in so well with the lines of houses, strong and shielded. 

This was someone’s home. Bonsai trees armed the right side of the yard, some trimmed, others growing wild. 

There were two floors and a garage; more than enough for a perfect family. 

Dabi was stopped by the fence gates that guarded the perimeters. He struggled to get past. 

Encrusted in metal, his eyes laid upon the name beside the door. 

Engraved in gold letters, it read Uchiyama.

He was a step away from Saira Uchiyama’s front door. 

Dabi’s hand reached towards the door handle, but he stopped when he felt the unwelcoming chill of it. 

He eyed the doorbell instead. He fisted his hand that was itching to press it. 

The drowning noises of children’s laughter bled through his skull from the park that was behind him. The drones of parents buying ice cream, and husbands holding their wives’ hands. This was the type of neighbourhood he was in. 

And someone told him. Since when did Dabi develop the need to preserve this? 

He was a lone man, half dead. He was disgusting. He couldn’t find her name. Now he was outside some poor woman’s house. Saira Uchiyama. How would she feel seeing a decaying man waiting outside her front door? How would her husband feel if some uninvited scarred freak asked to meet his wife, hands empty? 

He felt a thick substance roll past his cheek and drip onto the clean welcome mat. 

Dabi pushed his raven locks out of his eyes, biting onto his knuckles as he struggled to maintain a steady breath

His nails moved to pick at the staples underneath his eyes. 

He couldn’t do this. 

‘I can’t fucking do this.’

Through his bloodied waterline, he looked at the doorbell one more time before turning around. 

He couldn’t fucking do this. Dabi didn’t belong here. 

He tried to move forwards but his legs were shackled to the pebbly footpath. His rhythmic heart couldn’t let go. His twisted mind forced him to go. 

His desperate eyes latched onto the bed of perfect flowers on his right. 

Like an open flame, the flowers stole all his attention. Dabi stilled. 

Their indigo petals mirrored the deep colour of his dead skin. He was entranced by the bold opening, the beautiful colour bleeding out and reflecting the glimmering hope that built up in his cerulean eyes. 

-

“What’s your favourite flower Dabi?” Toga asked as she played with her blunt knife, running her thumb across the blade. 

“Typ’a fucking qustion’s that?” 

“God Dabi, don’t you know how to have a civilised conversation with someone. I’m just trying to get to know you better!”

“And asking my favourite flower’s gonna do that?”

“It’s called small talk, Dabi.”

He scoffed, pushing past the young girl to rummage through the cabinets. 

From the corner of his eyes, he picked up on her amber eyes intently pressing him for an answer. 

“For fucks sake. Fine. I’ll do your little small talk”, he gave in, evoking a small squeal from the blonde. 

Dabi considered her question for a minute, pressing his tongue against his cheeks. 

“I saw these flowers once,” he gulped. “They were blue, kinda like flames. My flames. I saw ‘em in one’a those gated areas. I guess they were pretty nice.” 

Toga pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side as she tried to paint a picture in her head. 

“Do you know what they’re called?”

“The fuck would I know? Probably one of those fancy rich flowers grown by fancy rich people,”, he shrugged. 

“I’ll ask the newbie, she’ll know what they are.”

“Have fun talkin’ to lil’ miss know-it-all,” he scoffed, happy as Toga skipped away, leaving him alone. Finally. 

A week later, Dabi found out what they were called as he was sharing a cigarette on the roof. 

“By the way, they’re called Rindou flowers.” 

Dabi quirked up an eyebrow, his lips curled in a sneer. 

“Those flowers you like, they’re called Rindou.”

Dabi’s ears perked up at the small giggle that followed. 

“I guess I could say being ‘miss know-it-all’ isn’t the worst thing, huh?” 

-

Dabi’s chest heaved as he turned around, his pace fast as his hands inched closer to the doorbell. 

Ring. 

The wind stilled. 

He could hear footsteps run down the stairs. 

Click. 

The handle moved. 

The door creaked open. 

It was 09:59 AM. 

——————————————————————————————————

Keep a look out for Part 3, my angst-loving toes. If you would like me to add you to the taglist, please comment or message me :).

#dabi x reader #dabi angst #dabi headcanons #dabi x you #touya todoroki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki touya x you #dabi imagine #mha imagines #mha headcanons #my hero academia #mha angst #todoroki touya #mha dabi #dark content #pregnancy #pregnant reader #tw abuse #angst no comfort #dark angst #dabi x female reader #todoroki family #bnha dabi #dabi my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero fic #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero academia #dabi bnha

[herotome]

Devlog #125

Hi-ho, Wudge here! Gosh! I missed last week's update.

Happy holidays from Herotome!!

I haven't drawn anything this year-- oh but hmm, I could do a quick edit, here -

Tadah! For anyone who hasn't already seen it, we got those 50 reblogs to make Warden shirtless! A pure version without the christmas lights went up yesterday, just scroll down my blog a bit or check out the #ro: warden hashtag.

I'm pleased with how much mileage I'm already getting from this picture, ha.

Anyway.

Seems like I'm gonna be focused on writing new scenes and drawing expressions for a while. They're some of the more tedious tasks for me, so I'll certainly be looking for every opportunity to do other things on the side - like coding.

Today I've decided that the LI sprites should have their eyebrows on a separate layer from the rest of their face, to offer me the greatest amount of variety in creating new expressions - and I've come up with a naming system for it, too!

I'm looking forward to implementing this. Eyebrow shapes have much, much less variety compared to mouth shapes, so I might even finish drawing every possible eyebrow for every LI sometime soon. I've already gotten a strong start with Warden and Mia's eyebrows.

Speaking of, I did turn in more expressions over on Ko-Fi!

Tadah!! Thank you again to everyone who has donated so far!

I'm realizing that in the set dedicated to Dia, Warden and Mia have the same mouth shape on the upper right side... A fascinating subconscious decision on my part.

Outside of art, I did write... once. Er, it went pretty okay. I'm usually the biggest hater of my first drafts.

I think my goal is gonna be to show off the abilities of all the characters as equally as I can; Warden and Jade have had their time to shine (during the job fair and flying MC home, respectively), and I think MC, Griffin, and Mia are gonna be queued up next.

I'll put the rest under a cut for potential spoilers and further rambling - as always, if you don't see the cut, make sure to check out my blog directly!

I have a good idea of what I wanna do with Griffin (it may or may not involve obliterating your rent debt, and I may or may not have written about that in the first-draft-I-don't-hate).

I've been thinking that this scene would involve a change of clothes btw, and did some fashion concepts for Griffin that I also don't hate;

I'm not super sure what I'm gonna do for Mia's eventual ~special show-off scene~, but I'm sure it will come to me.

For MC, I want to show off her relationship with the city, and showcase how qualified she is for the job in a low-key way. I recently discussed with a friend how Men in Black is a huge source of inspiration for me... Y'all know the scene where Will Smith has his interview and did things differently from all the other candidates?? I kinda wanna capture that vibe...!

And ah... I think that's about it, Herotome-wise.

Wudge-wise, honesty hour - I've had ssssome mild health concerns this year.

I don't want to go into detail; I want to say it's been like... nothing life threatening, thankfully, but a lot of small physical inconveniences that pile up and make it harder to concentrate.

I did rest a lot last week so no worries. <3 It's just that parts of my body have been weird and annoying, and I think it's helpful to acknowledge that the flesh prison can be a weird and annoying place. But I value it! And I'm doing my best to take care of it. Health comes first, etc, etc.

With this new year, I hope you guys take care of yourselves as best as you can, too. The person who's most qualified to take care of you is you!!!

Stay safe and keep warm,

Wudge.

#interactive fiction #oelvn #otome game #visual novel #english otome #indie game #otome #vn dev #vn development #amareteabreak #amare game #digital art #herotome update #ro: warden #ro: griffin

[pinkyjulien]

🎁 Happy Holidays, Chooms!🎄

Stinkies and myself wishes y'all to have an amazing weekend, whenever you celebrate xmas or not! 🤲

This time of year can be difficult for some, and with everything going on (large or small scale, online or IRL) it's important more than ever to take care of yourselves and your loved ones 💚

Focus on your well being and on your happiness, respect and be kind to each others 🤏 lets all try to put aside all the unecessary negativity, a lot of people find refuge in online communities during uncomfortable family reunions, so lets keep it welcoming!

Have a great week and weekend everyone~

🎨 Amazing art from the dear @valrez Forever thankful for all your creations 🧡

#Cyberpunk 2077 #Mitch Anderson #Valentin Da Silva #Aldecaldos #OTP: High Voltage #MLM #ValRez #gift: art #fav

[completeoveranalysis]

SO WE’RE FINALLY GETTING SOME ANSWERS NOW HUH?

I’m so excited, so enthralled, so overcome with emotion over the tiny Watanuki who wasn’t supposed to exist at all, BUT HE’S HERE NOW AND HE’S OURS

This will probably be my last blog of the year, but I’m so pumped to know that in the new year there’s only about 31 chapters left to go. That’s doable! We can manage that! Probably!

But am I ready for it???

Until then thank you to everyone reading this! IT HAS BEEN SUCH A WILD LIVEBLOG EXPERIENCE?? Thank you for all your comments and messages, it has really made my entire day.

And thank you extra to all the lovely patrons who have helped me get this far. It has been a rough year, but with their help I’m still able to keep this going. So thank you more than I can say <3

First Tier of Patrons

Rien [Ri]

Sapphireswimming

Luke Wilson

Stupid Kitsune

Jordan Fredriksz

Shynerdycactus

CloudMenaceBird

Corinne Burr

Qatari Pekarsky

Fer E

MokoCharm

limitless_paper

And the Higher Tier of Patrons:

If you're having a holiday break I hope it's a happy and safe time for you! Take care of yourselves and I'll see you all in 2024! <3

#Liveblog announcement tag #Liveblog: END #liveblogging the reservoir chronicle #Vol 202 #2023 OVER #Liveblogging the reservoir patreon #Liveblogging the patreon chronicle #TIME TO THINK ABOUT NOTHING BUT WATANUKI FOR DAYS ON END #THE PERFECT HOLIDAY

[wonijinjin]

dust: a christmas special (ot7)

author’s note: to end the holiday season here is a little special with your favourite boys! have a peaceful day, take care.

synopsis: the christmas chaos vanished, time to clean up your mess, but it is not easy with those seven.

word count: 1.0k | genre: fluff, humour/crack | pairings: enhypen x gn! reader (platonic!) | warnings: mentions of being deaf, yelling, playfighting

“i think we should start cleaning up guys, the situation is not sustainable anymore.” it was the last day of christmas, the holy spirit and the holiday atmosphere slowly fading as time went on, you and the boys getting full and sick of stuffing yourselves with delicious special meals which you partly helped cook as well as got delivered to make sure you had enough of everything. wrappers of chocolate and presents were all over the kitchen counter, not leaving any space for you to make your morning drink; moreover the house looked like a mess, the two floors were terribly packed with all sorts of stuff you had to get in order to complete the decoration or to ensure that everyone was having the time of their lives (which included a karaoke machine, darts, and a table tennis court just to mention some activities you did), them being a bit damaged due to the excitement of the day before, the boys handling them roughly. “what did you say? sorry i’m literally deaf, yesterday’s karaoke destroyed my eardrums…even though i wanted to just sleep peacefully…” jake complained while moving into the kitchen, eyes barely open since he didn’t get enough sleep. “oh shit-“ “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT OH MY GOD!”jake whined when you accidentally knocked the pot next to you over, its fall chattering on the marble floor, making your friend jump in surprise. “whoops, sorry. can you get the others? we need to clean this mess up.” you said gently, trying not to startle the poor boy even more.

ten minutes later all of the seven men were on their feet, sleepy gazes pinned upon your figure while waiting for an answer as of why you needed them so badly since jakey had no energy to even finish his sentence. “this is disgusting guys. i don’t even know where this suspicious substance came from, but i think it is better for all of us if we try to get rid of it.” you said with a face of shock, holding a roll of wipes and pointing at the countertop which had what you suspected was some kind of juice, sticking to everything of course. “hee please take the ornaments down from the rooms with riki, they are like broken in half or ripped into pieces anyways, so you can just throw them in the trash can.” you ordered, ushering the oldest and youngest boys of the group out of the mentioned room, and grabbing jay by his hand. “you are gonna help me clean the kitchen since we are probably the only ones who actually know how to do it.” he smiled at your words; you often came around to their dorm to spend time with them, meanwhile getting into a habit of cooking with jay, and this holiday was no exception; you had a blast with these silly boys whom you loved dearly, but the fun was over and everyone had to get back into their normal lives soon, not to mention new year’s eve rolling around soon enough. “sunoo, sunghoon please collect the wrappers.” you pleaded, the duo already hurrying to get the bags. “and lastly jakey and wonnie, can you go out to buy some new garbage bags and cleaning stuff? we are gonna run out i think.” you wondered, looking around the cabinets to find out what was necessary.

after hours of mopping and like ten bags of trash later you finally managed to get the building squeaky clean. “good job guys! i miss the christmas spirit, but i think this little session did wonders to the house! isn’t it nice to have a clean surface to sit down on?” you grinned at them, however they weren’t that happy. “yeah yeah great…” jay said while scratching the back of his head. “i wasted half a day for this…when i could’ve went out to get that ichiran ramen i got from heeseung!” riki added right after, surely not being satisfied with how his holiday came to an end. “i will treat you to a big meal on new year’s eve okay? yall are so dramatic!” you said with a blank expression. “you guys did nothing but eat and play for DAYS…a bit of hygiene doesn’t hurt you know.” sunoo sided with you, happily skipping around the house in the sunshine that was coming in through the big windows. “hah! that’s it for you all, sunny is on my side! i knew you would never let me down!” you ran to him, hugging him tightly to which he responded with a bubbly laugh. “are we gonna argue about this any further or are we gonna finally try to solve that 20000 piece lego set you bought for us?” jungwon asked with a cocked brow, you not even having time to process what happened when sunghoon started screaming. “YEAH FINALLY, THE LEGO!” he quickly grabbed it and poured it out onto the ground, sitting down next to the pieces. “now that i think of it it was a good decision to put away the stuff which has been laying here. now we have all the space for the fun!” heeseung commented, already lowering himself next to hoon. you watched the seven idiots fondly, looking at how their eyes sparkled. “okay big boys, let’s start then!”

bonus:

“YAHHH RIKI DID YOU LOSE THE LAST PIECE?” “I TOLD YOU I HAVEN’T SEEN IT, ARE YOU STUPID?” “HEY! that is not how you talk to the older members!” “it was sunoo’s fault anyways, he was dancing around i bet he kicked it off somewhere…” “I WILL MAKE SURE YOU WILL BE THE ONE KICKED OFF YOU LIAR!” “here we go again…”

#wonijinjin #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen jay #enhypen heeseung #enhypen kim sunoo #enhypen sunoo #enha #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen #enha sunoo #enha fluff #enhypen niki #enhypen jungwon #enhypen jongseong #enhypen jake sim #enhypen jaeyun #sim jaeyun #jake sim #park sunghoon #park jongseong #lee heeseung #kim sunoo #yang jungwon #nishimura riki

[lord0f]

My art vs artist this year! Its honestly been a…really rough year. I moved, I got covid (on my BIRTHDAY), I lost my car…Every time I thought things were going to finally calm down and level out they just, didn’t. I’ve been almost constantly overwhelmed, stuck, and feeling like I’m not moving fast enough to keep up with anything. I’m honestly not very happy with where my art is at right now. I feel stagnated and frustrated and the Big Seasonal Sad is hitting especially hard this year, which is not making me feel very positive or hopeful about improving in the next year.

But I know that I will. It was, frankly, a kind of terrible year. But good things happened as well. I am studying a new language and have been regularly attending lessons, the new place I moved has a balcony I enjoy sitting on when the weather is nice, I know I genuinely have experienced a lot of Art Growth this year (even if it doesn’t feel like I have) and there will always be more of that as long as I don’t Stop.

All this to say, I know this year has kind of been rough for everyone, and I really hope everyone is doing okay and doing what they need to to take care of themselves and each other while times are tough. Things will change. And I’m looking forward to seeing what they become next.

A huge thanks to my amazing commissioners this year, yall have really helped me out when money has been tight and I always appreciate your amazing generosity, patience, and kindness. I am so lucky to truly have the best clients ever, I am brewing you all a hot cozy beverage of your choice. Take care of yourselves through this winter season. May your holidays be as stress-free as they can be. And may you have a wonderful new year.

#yugioh #ygo #my art #art vs artist #i hope yall are doin well #its been a doozy of a year

[simbico]

Hey everyone! I’ve been MIA lately because it’s been crazy here for multiple reasons, most of which are the craziness of the Christmas holiday approaching with my family, which may make me MIA a little longer. I’m looking forward to finding the time to catch up with all the things your sims have been up to soon!💜

While I have the moment to, I also want to to say a huge thank you to all of you! You’re all amazing and I appreciate every one of you beyond words.💜 You’ve made coming back from a 7-ish year hiatus worth it. You all really add to the experience of simming through both the things you share and the interactions on either yours or my posts (replying/liking/commenting/reblogging).

Wishing you all the best and happy holidays for anyone celebrating any this time of year! Stay safe and remember to take good care of yourselves because you deserve it! 🤗

[fateinthestars]

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

Come on guys, wish everyone a Merry Christmas (for those who celebrate it, Happy Holidays/Happy December to everyone else!)...

Ichthys: I'll start! Merry Christmas! Have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!

Zyglavis: *sigh* Well I hope whoever you are spending this festive season with, it will be trouble free.

Karno: Speaking of which, I'm here for any of you who do not have anyone to spend this time with. Take care of yourselves.

Tauxolouve: And those who do have someone to spend with, make sure that they know that you care. Merry Christmas!

Aigonorus: ... zzz...

Tauxolouve: Just take it that that merry Christmas is from both us, hey?

Dui: Sometimes keeping it simple is best. Merry Christmas!

Teorus: Merry Christmas, may all your wishes come true!

Huedhaut: *sigh* That sounds a little arrogant, coming from a Wishes' God, Teo. Do not fall into the commercialism trap, just spend time with those who mean the most to you. You never know when fate may change.

Leon: That was a little too dark, Hue. And besides, I don't think Teo was being arrogant. We are the ones who will grant the Goldfishes' wishes. If you wish hard enough and it reaches me, I'm sure I can show you a Christmas you'll never forget.

Scorpio: Don't make this about you, you damn lion! I don't care about any of this nonsensical crap but... have a good one I guess.

Krioff: Uh... Merry Christmas...

Partheno: Make sure you look your best! Merry Christmas!

#star crossed myth #scm #scm memes #I have no idea what this nonsense is #merry christmas!

[a-pretty-nerd]

Tomura Shigaraki x AllMight!daughter!reader

Chapter 18

Premis:

When The League of Villians discovers that AllMight has a daughter, they are quick to snatch you up and hold you hostage. Shigaraki had a careful and thought-out plan, but that was before you got there. Now you're in the mood for some not-so-healthy rebellion.

Word Count:

Warnings: SMUT! NSFW! smutty smut- smutsmut! Cunnilingus. PnV. Shigaraki being a dork. Shigaraki's first time.

A/N:

Happy Holidays everyone! This one is a Christmas themed smut chapter! So no plot but there is relationship development included and the sex scene isn't crazy romantic lol. I hope you guys enjoy!

Chapter 17

Nervous? Nervous!? Why should you be nervous?

You've spent the last hours prepping. Physically, mentally, emotionally. This was it.

Christmas Day.

You've never felt excited on Christmas before. Christmas wasn't exactly on your mother's strict list of acceptable things to celebrate. Come to think of it, she wasn't exactly the type to celebrate anything unless it was an academic achievement.

You awoke at 10am Sec 25th to find the entire building decorated. Not a conventional Christmas you've always seen in the movies, and not entirely festive either. Brightly colored Christmas lights were stuck every which way you looked. Small, undecorated pine trees sat quietly against a wall or two. It was clearly a rushed and lazy job. You stood there, starring at the lights with a small smile.

Tomura had given you a small list of instructions for that night. He seemed very keen on keeping your "extra activities" to yourselves. You couldn't help but agree. It was still new. Very new. Like second hook-up new. This small list read as follows:

Come to my room after 8pm.

Make sure no one sees you.

Shower before.

And that was all.

You stood outside Shigaraki's apartment door and softly knocked. Your eyes darted around the hallway for anyone. It was quiet, it felt almost too quiet. Your anxiety bubbled up in your throat and dropped very suddenly into your stomach. You couldn't tell what frightened you more, the prospect of fucking Tomura, or the idea of getting caught fucking Tomura.

Doesn't matter now. You let out a surprised yelp as a few fingers curl around your arm and pull you inside. You fall flat into his chest, and he holds you there for a moment as he shuts the door behind you and locks it. His hair is still kind of wet, still dripping down his shoulders and shirt. He smells like his body wash, like a generic crisp oak something or other. He looks down at you, and his expression changes. His eyes narrow at you.

"You're all red. Are you sick?" He presses the back of his fingers against your cheek and neck to check for a temperature. You can't help but huff out an embarrassed smile.

"No I'm fine. You just get out of the shower?" Tomura just nods and removes his hand. He lets you go from his awkward embrace.

"Come on." He turns and walks past the suites' living room and down the hall. You follow him, getting to see little glimpses into his apartment. The kitchen looks practically untouched other than the dishes in the sink. The bathroom door is open but there are is still a lingering fog and heat from his shower. There is another bedroom, a smaller one that Tomura hides by closing the door before you can fully see it. He was too late, you already saw a quick glimpse. It was clearly his room. It was small, and cluttered. The bed was a mess and there were books and miscellaneous pages everywhere. Clearly it's the room he often works out his plans in.

Wait a moment, clearly he sleeps there. But if he isn't taking you to his room, where are you going? Tomura finally stops in front of a set of french doors. He looks back at you and then throws them open. The doors reveal a luxurious king bed master suite that is decorated for the holiday. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head. Tomura watches you with a blank expression, watching and studying your response. You turn back to look at him.

"Wow, this is pretty fucking festive." You smile. He nods. "You didn't do all this for me, did you?" A soft blush dusts his cheeks and his eyes look away from you.

"I've never really celebrated Christmas either. I wanted to surprise you." You smile.

"Merry Christmas, Tomura." He looks back at you and straightens himself out.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N." You stand there for a second starring at each other as you watch a small smile begin to tug at his lips. A few seconds pass before you look away awkwardly and then back again.

"So are you gonna kiss me, or-???" You tease. Tomura's eyes brighten and his cheeks begin to burn. He quickly approaches you and leans down to give you a sweet but trembling kiss as his arms cautiously wrap around you. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was acting scared. You plant your hands firmly on his waist and gently pull back. "Are you ok? You're shaking." His mouth goes dry and the words lodge in his throat. "We don't have to do anything tonight if you don't wanna." You offer with a kind smile. Tomura sighs. He pulls you closer to him.

"No no no, I want to. I really want to. It's just- I....mh." He grumbled.

"Are you nervous?" Tomura looks embarrassed.

"I'm new to this, okay!?" He finally shouts, pulling away from you. You wouldn't say he's angry, just frustrated, as he usually is. "That night, it happened so quickly and naturally! And now, like this- it feels so awkward and-and anxious!"

"I see."

"Don't smile at me like that. You're making it worse. You make me all nervous and excited." He grumbled, trying to avoid your eyes.

"Excited, huh? I make you, excited, Tomura?" You tease him.

"Of course you do! Y-You're smart, you're powerful, you're...gorgeous," he whispered the last word to himself. "You're used to this kind of stuff!"

"This kind of stuff?"

"I've never... I've never been close to anyone like this. I've never been kissed or held or...touched like that before. You're my first and the other night you...you didn't even let me return the favor!"

"You're upset that you didn't get to go down on me after I went down on you?" You asked with red hot cheeks. He nodded before swallowing the lump in his throat. He looked so serious, but in a different way than you've seen before.

"I'm not upset. I'm just..." He sighed. "I'm new to this, I don't want to disappointment you. And when you left after I offered, you didn't even give me a chance! " You reached out to run your hand along his shoulder and neck. He seemed to relax at your touch. He finally looks back at you.

"Well, we have all night." You ran your hand down his chest and stopped above his pants. His breathing changed. His eyes darted down from your hand back up to you.

"So...I can-?"

"Yes, Tomura, you can eat me out." You didn't expect him to look so bright eyed and excited. You blinked and suddenly he knelt down and slung you over his shoulder. "Oh my God! Tomura!" You shouted in surprise as he walked you over to the bed. He tossed you down, you bounced as you looked up at him. Both of you smiling like idiots.

"What? I've thrown you around harder than that before." He chuckled.

"Yeah but that was training! This is different." Tomura crawled over you to plant a firm and passionate kiss on your lips.

"How so? It's just like training." He moaned into your neck as he kissed down your clothed body. He paused to kiss between your tits as he gently fondled them. Open mouth kisses trailed down your tummy before he stopped at your pants. "You're just training me now." He spoke as his fingers pulled down your pants.

He pulled them down and roughly ripped them past your feet to discard them entirely. When he looked up, he watched you as you opened your legs for him. He looked star struck. He starred and then licked his lips before looking back up at you.

"What are you waiting for?" You asked before he moved. Suddenly there was a lot of tongue, everywhere. Harsh, fast, intense movements and sensations. "Ah! Tomura!" You cried, reaching your hand out and taking a fist full of hair. You pulled him back and away from you. "Hey! Calm down!" You ordered. He froze and looked up at you.

"What? What's wrong?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"You can't just jump in like that, that's too much, it kinda hurts." You explain. Tomura deflates a little.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. Everything I watched, they're always like that."

"I appreciate the enthusiasm, but when you first start, you have to be more gentle than that. Like, um, like you're eating ice cream."

"Like ice cream..." Tomura repeated to himself. His looked so determined as his eyes fell back between your legs. He leaned forward as he knelt down on the floor. His hands coming up to hold your thighs on either side of his head. His tongue dragged from your opening, and flicked at your clit. He caught the way you took in a sharp breath of pleasant surprise. He repeated the action again before moving his tongue to focus more on your clit. "Better?" He mumbled into your clit before kissing it.

"Mmhm." You nodded sheepishly. "Much better." Tomura's tongue quickly lapped at your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure down your legs and up your belly. Your grip on his hair loosened, now you found yourself massaging his scalp as he began to lick your entrance. His tongue curled inside of you, licking and teasing your insides. He pulled away to flatten his tongue against your clit before gently flicking. The sounds you made sent a shiver down his spine. It took everything in him not to fuck you there and then. After all, he had a job to do.

"Am I doing well?" He moaned against your thigh when he pulled away.

"Yes tomura, please don't stop." It made his chest heave the way you said 'please' for him. He pressed forward again and continued his work. Playing with you as he pleased. He licked and sucked at your juices and shuttered at the taste. He was growing antsy and impatient. "Oh fuck. Yes. Feels so good." You moaned. The praise made his head foggy. He wanted to hear more. His tongue moved faster, more intensely against your clit. "Ah! Just like that, yes!" You encouraged. He watched you. He squirmed beneath you, his cock so hard and needy.

He moaned into you. Obediently doing as you instructed or asked. He licked until your legs shook around his head. He held them tightly, and continued his fevered movements.

"Cum. Cum." Tomura grunted. "Cum for me. I want to make you cum." Another series of tongue flicks to your clit threw you over the edge. You leaned back and pressed yourself into the bed as the pleasure seeped into your muscles. You felt so dizzy and warm. The pleasure peaked as Tomura refused to stop, no matter how tightly you squeezed his head or tugged his hair.

"T-Tomura- fuck! I came! I came- you can stop." He pulled away abruptly and looked up at your exhausted expression. He wiped his mouth and chin clean before he crawled his way above you again. He began leaving loud, crazed kisses up your body as he rid you of the rest of your clothes. He pulled back to stand up and strip himself. You watched in your dazed bliss as he revealed his scarred body. His cock springing free and bouncing against his thighs.

He approached you, kissing you passionatly. His body pressed against yours as he leaned over you. His cock teased and rubbed against your entrance. You moaned as his lips made their way down your neck again. He reached down and attempted to angle himself to insert himself. You loudly gasped and pulled back. Tomura stood back and watched you with wide eyes.

"What? Did I hurt you?" He asked, confused.

"No. You just tried to put it in raw!"

"Oh C'mon, it's my first time. Can't I put it in raw at least once? Please?" You've never seen Tomura look so pitiful. He leans in again, trying to affectionatly win you over.

"No, Tomura. I'm not on the pill, I'm not risking anything. Please tell me you have condoms." You sighed. Tomura accepts defeat and reaches over to the night stand. He proceeds to take out a box and open it as he speaks.

"Can we put you on the pill?" He asked. You watch him roll the condom over his pulsating cock. Tomura clearly doesn't enjoy having it on.

"Slow down, Tiger. You don't even know if you like me that much." You teased. Tomura did not take kindly to that. The look he gives you is menacing. He rests his fists on either side of you as he stands between your legs once again. He rubs his cock up and down your entrance again.

"Can I?" He asks softly.

"Yes." Together you gasp at the sensation. He loudly moans as he stills, fully sheathed inside. He trembles and sighs into your shoulder. "You okay?" He nodded.

"You feel so- so fucking good." He feels dizzy with pleasure. He can't help it, you're so warm and soft and sweet. The way you hold him and kiss him as he slowly begins to move drives him crazy. He's so overwhelmed.

He works his way into a good rhythm. Slow and steady. It feels good to be so close and intimate. You never thought you'd ever see this side of shigaraki. Never thought you'd get to watch as he pants and whimpers above you. It excites you to see him loose his mind like this.

"Fuck... fuck!" He whined as his thrusts began to pick up the pace. "Fuck! I'm cumming! I can't stop- fuuuuuck!" He looks so pitiful like this. Holding onto you for dear life as he spills into the condom. You feel him still and lean back. He looks at you for a moment and then avoids your eyes, like he's embarrassed. He pulls out once the both of you have calmed down. He disposes of the condom and then proceeds to dress himself.

"What? No aftercare?" Tomura looks up at you, there's clearly a lot going through his mind.

"Aftercare?" He asks.

"Yeah. You gotta at least check in with me after. Maybe a kiss and a cuddle?" He looks almost surprised.

"You want to cuddle with me?"

"If you want to. C'mon you gotta take care of each other after sex." You invite him to lay down in the bed with you. Now just on his boxers, he cautiously curls up with you. "You've really never heard of aftercare?" Tomura shrugged.

"I just figured you didn't want to stay any longer."

"Why wouldn't I want to stay?"

"Cause last time you ran off and, I came too fast. Figured you probably wanted to just go back to your room."

"Give yourself some credit, it's your first time. And besides, you made me cum before so we're even."

"No we're not. We're even from the other night, I still owe you." Tomura pouted.

"Well, the night is still young." You smiled. Tomura looked at you with a excitement in his eyes. Indeed, the night was still young.

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