#I will be working on the next few chapters asap

[lesbian-thesbian]

Chapters: 15/? Fandom: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Javert/Jean Valjean, Javert & Jean Valjean Characters: Javert (Les Misérables), Jean Valjean Additional Tags: Post-Seine, Canon Era, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Suicide Attempt, Getting Together, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Javert Lives (Les Misérables), Javert's Suicide (Les Misérables), Javert Needs a Hug (Les Misérables), Eventual Javert/Jean Valjean, Jean Valjean Lives, Jean Valjean Saves Javert, Jean Valjean Loves Javert, Javert Loves Jean Valjean, Minor Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Slow Romance, Old Men In Love, they are so bad at feelings but they'll get there eventually, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Love Confessions, the brick but also the musical but also my weird little brain, Pining, Mutual Pining, Healing, Middle Aged Virgins, Redemption Summary:

Valjean drags Javert onto the riverbank of the Seine, saving the man's life by pure instinct rather than anything else. As he nurses the man back to health, however, he realizes that by saving Javert's life, he has saved himself as well. The two men begin to discover an unlikely friendship, one that contains the seeds of something far more dangerous and enticing.

[elliesbelle]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJ3rtaSG/

me with ncty <3

whaaaaat stop 🥺🤍 you’re gonna make me cry!!!

link to the tiktok if anyone is interested!

[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite - 19

oops i couldn’t wait for the weekend 😅 happy 4th of july to my fellow american homies 🫡🫡

Masterlist /Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Chapter warnings: Afab/fem reader, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f + m), kissing, Dom!Chan, Dom!Minho, Dom!Seungmin, Sub!reader, subspace, threesome (m/f/m), Double penetration (mouth and Vagina), 2min being absolute deviants, face smacking, choking, crying (a TON), Dacryphilia, voyeurism, spanking, sir kink, dirty talk, pet names, spit, cum eating, fluff, angst, cursing, violence, blood, threats, broken bones, (sorry to all the wooyoung stans- this hurt me to write), Chan is not a good guy here but he’s hot so 🫠🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

WC: 10.2k

Sun beams streamed into the room, the early morning light dancing across your lids as you woke up. You groggily creaked your eyes open then instinctually reached your hand over to find your alpha- though you found the spot empty. Chan's side of the bed was cold, he had to have been up for far longer than you.

Click 

Clack

Click

 There was a quiet clicking sound that filled the room. It was the first thing you really took notice of as you came to your wits.You rubbed your eyes and lightly lifted your head up. In the corner of the room at his laptop sat Chan. He was still in his underwear that he wore to bed and he was typing away at the keyboard in front of him. He hadn’t noticed that you had awoken yet, so you observed him for a few minutes. His brow was furrowed and he kissed his teeth. 

The alpha typed away for a few more minutes, then he sighed in frustration and threw his head back. It was at that moment he noticed you were awake, looking at him with sleepy eyes. He smiled at you with a tender look. “Good morning, gorgeous.”  

“Mmph. Morning Channie. What are you doin?” You swung your legs over the side of the bed and reached your arms up in a stretch. 

He sighed again and turned back around to his computer. “Just some work that couldn’t wait until after the weekend.” He wouldn’t tell you that he had gotten up early to do some digging on Wooyoung and had gotten fed up when he didn’t find anything of note then checked his work emails. “There's a buyer who wants to see a huge property a town over.” 

You padded slowly over to your alpha and draped yourself over his shoulders, nuzzling your face into his neck. “That must be exciting for the company.” 

“Mmhm, it’s a really expensive piece of land. The buyer wants to get this deal done asap and is sending me over there tomorrow to meet with them. On a fucking sunday.” He huffed and rolled his eyes.

 You could feel his frustration radiating out of him so you brought a hand up to his head and ran your fingers through his curls, trying to comfort him. You felt him physically relax and you let out a gentle purr. “M’ sorry alpha. You work so hard for your company, you deserve some time off.” 

He snorted, “Yeah like that’s going to happen anytime soon. I’ve already taken too much time off the last few weeks thanks to a certain someone.” He playfully kisses your arm that was wrapped around him then leans into you. “My old man understands how important bonding with an omega is so he’s been lenient but since I’m the one that's going to take over the business I have to make sacrifices sometimes. Being able to provide a comfortable life for you and the pack makes it all worth it though.” 

“You’re a good man, Chan.” You kissed his neck again, your scent sweetening with your pure love for him. The smell was so heavenly it made his eyes almost roll into the back of his head. “I am so lucky to have the most perfect Alpha as my mate.” 

Chan tried to hide his bashfulness and the dusting of pink that appeared on his cheeks by turning his head but you managed to catch a peek anyways. You giggled and reached a hand to pinch his cheek. He shook his head and laughed along with you. “Don’t tease me! And don’t pretend you're not the perfect one, my little omega.” He turned and gave you a kiss on your lips this time and hummed. “I do have to get back to this for now though my love. Not much longer.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” You stood but kept your hands on his shoulders, massaging them lightly. 

He turned back to look at you with a smirk and his eyes shining with mischievous intent, “Wellll there's one thing I can think of…” 

“Hmm,” You hummed wearily, “what’s that Channie?” 

“Cockwarm me while I work.” 

You choked on your air intake. That is certainly not what you had in mind. “You- you want me to do what?” 

He patted his lap cheekily, making you look down to notice his member hardening in his boxers. “Come on pretty omega, take a seat on alphas dick and keep me company. That would really help me get some work done.” His grin was teasing as if daring you to do as he asked, as if you truly had an option. 

You licked your lips as you felt your panties dampen instinctually. You weren’t naive enough to think it would help him that much or that his intentions were pure but you also weren’t going to deny your alpha anything he desired- which right now was you.  

Your hands fell from his shoulders as you circled around to the front of his chair. You held eye contact with him when you crouched down in front of him and reached for the hem of his underwear. His gaze was sharp as he took in your every miniscule movement,brown orbs  already dilating like a beast of prey. Your breath was shaky when you hooked your pointer fingers into the hem and slowly pulled them down his thighs until his hard length sprang out and slapped against his stomach.  

You stood up again and this time pulled your own panties down, letting them fall to the floor as you stepped out of them. Chan licked his teeth and patted his lap once again. “Your throne, my queen.” 

That made you huff a laugh and eased your nerves a little. 

“You’re a dork.” 

 Bracing your hands on his shoulders you positioned yourself to be straddling his lap and he helped you line yourself up. With a deep breath to prepare for the stretch, you sank down onto him and engulfed him completely. Your eyes screwed shut and you let out a whimpering moan. Chan sighed blissfully when you were fully seated, his strong arms pulling you into his chest. 

“Thata girl.” 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and gave him a small grind. He held back a moan, instead tutting at you. “Uh uh baby, just sit still f’ me and keep me warm.” 

Settling into a good position the both of you let out a content sigh. You kept your head buried into the crook of his neck while he let go of you and went back to his laptop. You closed your eyes and relaxed into him, trying to pass the time with a nap. The both of you managed to sit like that for about a half hour. You did your best to focus on napping but you were beginning to get needier and needier. Chan was doing a good job at keeping a poker face and typing away as if you weren’t clenching and leaking all over his dick. 

Your thighs started to burn from the position you were stuck in so you tried to subtly adjust to relieve some tension, but the movement made you push him deeper into you. You let out a quiet moan when you felt him twitch inside of you and couldn’t help but shift your hips, making your walls drag against him which caused him to moan in return. 

“F-fuck baby, can’t go moving your hips like that.” 

“M sorry, you just feel so good.” You whined in his ear. You could feel your slick dripping out of you and onto Chan's dick,“S’deep in me, feels so good alpha.” 

He let out a growl at your words, his resolve quickly crumbling. “Feelin’ needy now, baby? Can’t even sit here and be good, you need your alpha to take care of you?” 

You nodded rapidly, clenching around him tightly at his words. “Uh huh. I tried to be good for you Alpha. I sat here as long as I could.” 

“Well it’s a good thing I’ve just answered my last email then huh?” 

With no warning the man beneath you lifted his hips to buck into you, making your back arch as you moaned. “Nnnnghh alpha!” 

“Hold on to me baby.” 

You did as you were told, tightening your hold on his shoulders. When he felt that, Chan put his hands under your spread thighs and gripped the meat there. He used his strength to lift your body up then brought you down again. You felt every ridge and vein of his cock rub against your walls, making you whine and throw your head back. 

Chan used your body as if it was his own personal fleshlight, lifting you up and down over and over again. His panting in your ear sent shivers down your spine. The alpha relished in the feeling of your slick dripping out of you and falling down to his thighs, the sloshing making him want to pound into you even harder. Your little breathy ‘ah’s filled the room along with the sounds of your ever accumulating slick.

“Fucking hell omega, you’re taking me so well. Nice and tight and so fucking wet. Is that slick all f’ me?” You were too caught up in the pleasure, not registering that he had asked you a question. The alpha halted his movements, making you let out a desperate whine that turned to a cry when he laid a sharp slap against your butt. After he smacked it he grabbed a handful of the tender flesh and squeezed. “I expect an answer when I ask you a question.” 

“Yes yes! M’ so wet for my alpha.” You began to cry as you tried to bounce on his dick but he kept you stationary. He gave your ass another hard slap, this time groaning when he felt you clench down on him even as you hissed from the pain. “Please alpha, need to move, need to cum please.” 

He hummed in thought as if weighing his options. You couldn’t stop your squirming as you tried to gain more friction but his hold on you was too tight. Just when you were about to cry again he delivered one more stinging strike to your skin, then roughly fucked up into you and resumed his previous pace. 

Your nails were clawing into his bare shoulders as you felt your high approaching quickly. You started nibbling on his neck hoping to stimulate the man even more than he already was and it seemed like your efforts were not in vain. 

“Fuck omega, I’m getting so close, need to feel you cum on my cock then alpha will give you his knot. You want alphas knot, pretty girl?” His voice was throaty and rough and it made your eyes roll with how sexy it sounded as it sent you even further into that deep subspace that only he could send you too. The alpha could make your brain fuzzy with a single look; when he fucked you it sent it into overdrive. 

“Uh huh, wan’ your knot.” Your words were slurred, barely making it out of your mouth before he changed up the tempo and made his movements more of a deep grind into your core, hitting your special spot and also letting his pelvis rub perfectly against your clit. “Fuck oh my god gonna cum. Alpha m’ gonna cum!” 

“Go ahead, baby. Make a mess on my lap.” 

With his permission you let go and felt the snap within you, your pussy tightening around him as you came. “Ngggggghhhhhhh Channie! Alpha!” 

There was a deep rumble from within the man's chest as he gave into his instincts and started rutting up into you harder than ever before, making you scream at the overstimulation. He gave you three more rough thrusts before you felt his knot begin to inflate within you, locking himself into place within you and warm spurts of his essence coated your walls. You couldn’t stop spasming and squirming on his lap as you felt him fill you to the brim. 

After a few moments Chan seemed to catch his breath but you couldn’t stop shaking and whining. He let go of his hold on your thighs and ass, bringing one hand to the back of your head as he stroked you to soothe you. “Shh baby, you’re ok. I’ve got ya.” He gave your cheek a gentle kiss and he pumped out calming pheromones. It took you a few minutes to finally come back down to earth. When you came to your senses you lifted your face from his neck, both your face and his neck were wet with your tears and you looked dazed. “Are you ok my love?” You nodded with a ‘hmfp’. He chuckled at how cute you were. “Did alpha fuck you too good?” 

You nodded again and felt your face heat up at his words. “Mmhmm. So good. Missed alphas cock.” 

“My baby is turning dirty!” He mocked a gasp in shock. “You’re spending too much time with those heathens, they’re corrupting you.” 

You giggled and kissed his cheek, “I think it’s you who's doing the corrupting around here Channie.” You tilted your face to align with his and you gave him a deep kiss on his plump lips. His tongue invaded your mouth and mingled with your own, giving you a taste of each other. 

He pulled away with a loud ‘mwah’ and rubbed your noses together, making you giggle and peck his lips again. You could feel his knot beginning to deflate, so the alpha adjusted his hold on you to lift you up gently and pull you off of his member. You hissed when you felt him leave your body, the knot not yet down completely so it gave you a small tug as it left you. That pain turned to relief when you were able to move your legs- the appendages burning from the held position. 

Chan helped you off his lap and to your feet. Your legs felt like jelly and almost gave out but he was there to catch you and steady you. “Easy baby, gotta be careful after a rockus love making like that.” His tone was cocky and he grinned the same way, making you roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him. “You watch that little tongue of yours omega, you stick it out too much and something may just come by and snatch it!” He made a quick pinching motion at your face making you squeal and back away from him. 

“You can’t have it, it's mine!” You pushed his hands away as they reached out to grab you again, both of you unable to control your laughter. “Get away you monster!” 

“Monster? Oh no baby, I’m the big bad wolf.” He grinned evilly and wiggled his fingers at you. “And if I catch you I’m gonna eat you up.” 

“You won’t eat me!” You backed away further and towards the door while still keeping your eyes on him. Just as your hand reached the doorknob he pounced, making you shriek. “Ahhh no no no!” You wretched the door open and flew out of the room, the alpha hot on your tail.

“Where ya goin little red? Don’t you wanna play with the wolf?” He reached for you but you barely made it past his fingertips.

“No thanks! I don’t play with monsters!” You managed to get down the hall to the bathroom in the hallway, closing it and locking it a mere second before your alpha got to the door. “Yes I made it! Take that you dirty wolf!” He pretended to scratch at the door and you stuck out your tongue again at the door. “You can’t see it but I’m sticking my tongue out at you!” 

You could hear him chuckle and scratch at the door again. “Come on out and play with me some more little omega. Give this wolf another taste of you.” Both of you knew he could make you come out if he really wanted too, but the chase was more fun. No sense in ending it with an alpha command. 

“Nuh uh, I’m fine here.” 

“Hmm, I’ll get my hands on you eventually, little red. I am a patient wolf.” The playful bite in his tone sent a quiver through your body and your brain fuzzy. It made your hands twitch and you almost opened the door for him. Almost. 

“We’ll see about that. Now get outta here so you don’t listen to me pee!” 

He just laughed and then you heard his footsteps walk away from the door. 

Coming out of the bathroom after doing your business and brushing your teeth you caught a glimpse of a stocky figure rounding a corner down the hall. 

Changbin 

You sped after him reaching your hand out before he could go into his room. “Binnie, wait. Where have you been? Are you ok?” 

His head spun around to you then quickly back around, not looking you in the eye and seeming nervous. “Hi Y/n.” 

“Y/n? Since when do you call me by my real name?” You were confused and honestly a little hurt and it showed in your voice. You reached a hand out to touch his shoulder but he jerked it away, still not looking at you. “And why won’t you look at me? Have I done something wrong?”

That made him whip his head back to you, balking at you. “You get borderline assaulted because of me… and you ask me if you did something wrong? Are you serious?” 

“Oh Bin..” You knew he would be taking it hard. “I’m fi-” 

“Don’t say you're fine or it’s ok like I know you’re about too. It’s not ok, Y/n.” He put up a hand and cut you off. His hard gaze went back to the floor. You could just barely see his lash line fill with unshed tears. “Nothing about me being a shitty alpha to you is ok, so let’s not stand here and pretend it is.” 

You shook your head, a deep furrow in your brow. “Binnie don’t say that-” 

“It’s true! If I had been more aware -paid more attention to you- then you would have never been grabbed, let alone touched at all. I selfishly put my own wants before your needs. A good alpha wouldn’t have let that creep touch you.” His voice was raised and harsher than you had ever heard it. Usually he was loud with laughter and fun; it felt unnatural and made a pit settle in your stomach.

Now your own eyes were filled with liquid and all you wanted was to comfort him. “Changbin, it’s not your fault. Will you look at me please?” He still refused to look at you, choosing to keep his head down instead but you did see him sniffle a little bit.

“I don’t deserve to look at you.” 

“Seo Changbin” You tried to make your voice as hard as possible and you put your hands on his cheeks tilting his head back up and making him look at you. “Look at me. I. am. Fine. Do I look hurt? Do I seem like something is wrong with me?” 

“No..” He mumbled, a tear escaping his eye. You were quick to wipe it away with your thumb. 

“Then why are you beating yourself up about it, huh? I am here safe with the pack. Safe with you. We are all here together safe and sound, isn’t that all that matters?” 

“Only because Minho stepped in.. If he hadn't, who knows what could have happened to you.” By now the tears were streaming down the man's face, wetting his cheeks and your hands that still held them. 

“Changbin, that is enough! You are a great alpha and I have no doubt in my mind you would have come to my rescue soon enough. And it doesn’t matter who got there first anyway, what is important is that you and I are both here together. So please, please stop being so hard on yourself. It’s breaking my heart. I cannot bear to see you so upset.” You meant every word and looking in your glassy eyes he knew you did. He knew you weren’t one to lie. 

The alpha couldn’t hold it in anymore and released a quiet sob, attacking you into a much needed hug. “M’ so sorry baby. I love you so much. I don’t know what I would have done if he had hurt you.” 

Even though you were also crying you attempted to sooth him, your hand going from his face to his back as you held on to him. “Shh it’s ok. I love you too, Changbin. My sweet, wonderful, handsome alpha.” 

He sobbed even harder, his grip on you tightening as he tried to get as close to you as possible. You let him hold on to you for as long as he needed, the both of you crying and comforting the other. After a few minutes he slowly pulled back from the hug, instead choosing to bring your mouths together for a tender kiss. You practically melted into his kiss, his soft lips molding with yours. Even though there was no teasing or tongue involved it was just as deep and full of passion. 

This time it was you who pulled back first, your hands coming back up to his face and wiping away the remaining wetness from his perfectly rounded cheeks. “No more tears from you, I can’t stand to see you in pain.” You whispered, giving him your most sincere eyes. 

“Now you know how I feel when you cry.” He replied just as quietly. Changbin gave you one last quick peck then let you go completely, stepping back from you and a pink tinge appearing on his cheeks. He cleared his throat and you couldn’t help but to giggle. Of course you giggling made him join you; your laugh was just that contagious. 

The mood was instantly lightened, the tension visibly lifting from the alpha as he calmed down. But there was still a question remaining in your mind. “Binnie, where did you go last night? I didn’t sense that you came home, I was worried.” 

“I uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “I just spent the night walking around the woods. I was too ashamed to face you or Minho, so I thought it was easier to just walk home from the carnival to collect my thoughts.” 

You nodded in understanding, grabbing his hand and rubbing the back of his knuckles. “I’m just glad you came home at all. Chan told me he had talked to you but he didn’t specify what he had said so I was scared he had given you an unjust punishment.” You noticed the grimace in his expression. “Wait, did he? What did he say to you?” 

Bin shrugged as if it was no big deal but the crack in his voice gave him away. “Nothing crazy… He just took away my gym privileges for a while.” 

You quietly gasped and pulled him into another hug, “Oh Binnie, that’s horrible I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s ok Baby, all it means is I have to work out at home. Give ya a show.” He flexed his muscles at you, giving you a wink and making you laugh. 

“How about you come give me a show right now? I need to take a shower and you could join me if you want.”  You made a show of biting your lip dramatically and wiggling your eyebrows. 

Changbin burst into that high pitched laughter that you loved so much and nodded his head. “I could definitely use a shower after being outside all night.” 

You sniffed him and made a fake disgusted face, waving a hand in front of your face. “Yeah I’ll say.” 

“Hey now don’t you start bullying me! You’re turning into those jerks!” 

“H-O-T-T-O-G-O. YOU CAN’T TAKE ME HOT TO GO!” 

It was about three hours later after your shower with Changbin (which to your surprise did not turn sexual), and you were just finishing up sweeping the kitchen floors after you cleaned up breakfast while listening to music. You wanted to get a few things done today; feeling energized and needing to dance it out while you cleaned up. You offered Changbin to help you but he was exhausted after his night meandering the woods. 

“H-O-T-T-O-G-O, snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll, dance it out, you're hot to go” 

You did as the song said, bending down and body rolling, getting lost in the music. You were so thankful there was a radio in the kitchen. A low whistle from the kitchen entryway scared you, making you turn in fright and a hand fly to your chest. 

“Seungmin, stop scaring me!” 

The beta snickered, leaning on the wall. “Can’t help that we keep meeting like this little puppy.” His darkening eyes raked over your form, subconsciously licking his lips. He had observed you dancing for a few minutes before he whistled; drinking in the sight of you in a little maroon skirt and one of his t-shirts. Don’t get him started on the little peek of your little purple panties that he got to see while you were bent over. It was enough to make a grown man cry. 

A grumbled ‘hmpf’ left your lips and you crossed your arms, clearly unamused. “I don’t know if you have some sixth sense but you always seem to know when I’m distracted.” You narrowed your eyes playfully at him. “You obsessed with me or something?” 

Seungmin scoffed and pushed off the wall, coming to stand right in front of you and keeping eye contact. “More than you know, little puppy.” His gaze was so intense it made you backup a foot until your back touched the edge of the counter, where the beta put his hands to cage you in. His eyes flickered to your lips then back to your own and he leaned down ever so slightly. 

Your lids began to close in anticipation of his kiss, but it didn’t come. Instead you were surprised again when you felt his hands go down to the back of your exposed thighs and you were suddenly lifted off the floor. “Seungmin!” You shrieked, and smacked at his shoulder. 

“Calm down pup, don’t go throwing hands I’m just putting you on the counter.” 

As he said he lifted you and seated you promptly on the counter behind you. Your legs were dangling off the side and Seungmin got another peak at your underwear.  

“You drive me crazy enough to throw hands so really I don’t think I am to blame.” You stuck out your tongue at him and he rolled his eyes, then pinched you quickly and backed away snickering. “Ow!” 

“Dramatic omega.” He wagged a finger at you in jest, laughing again when you huffed. The man turned and opened the freezer, pulling out two mini popsicles. “Put the claws away or you won’t get one of these.” He waved one around in front of you. 

You made grabby hands at the sweet treat , giving him your best teasing pleading voice. “Gimme please!” You cheered when the beta handed you the frozen pop. “Hell yeah!” 

Without wasting any time you unwrapped the treat and started to eat it. You hummed in satisfaction as you took in the flavor. Blue raspberry; your favorite. Seungmin just watched as you ate your pop lost in your own world. He felt the tent in his pants grow tighter as you sucked and licked the phallic ice pop and were oblivious to the show you were putting on for him. 

“That looks good, where’s mine?” 

Both you and Seungmin were pulled from your thoughts by Chan who had walked into the kitchen. 

“Uh” The beta stuttered, then pointed to the freezer. “I picked them up the other day, do you want one, Chan?” 

Chan had taken notice of you both before he even spoke, already getting a read on the younger male's dominant and lusty energy. Well, that, and he watched as Seungmin couldn’t take his eyes off of your sinful mouth or your panties that were on display. 

“Hmmm, no thanks Seung. But I may just steal a taste of yours, baby.” The alpha smiled cheekily as you happily stuck your treat out for him. He stuck his tongue out as if he was going to take a lick, then he chomped down quickly on your pop, biting off a large chunk. 

“NO HOW COULD YOU?!” You yelled, shocked at the sudden loss of your popsicle; your now blue mouth open and eyes wide. “YOU SAID YOU WANTED A TASTE! A TASTE!” 

Both boys were laughing at your plight as you stared down at your now almost gone pop. “M’ sorry my love, alpha will buy another whole case while I’m out, just for you. How’s that sound?” He brought you into a hug with you still sitting on the counter as you pouted. 

You perked up at the idea of your own box- then his other words registered in your brain. “Wait where are you going?” 

“Just gotta go run an errand. I won’t be too long.” There was something malicious behind his usually kind eyes, it was so subtle but you and Seungmin both caught it. Chan laid a kiss to your cold lips and gave your knee a pat. “Be good for Minnie, I’ll see you soon omega.” He winked then he was out of the room. 

You looked to Minnie hoping he would give you an answer to the alphas behavior but instead you found him already staring at you. Or more specifically the melting ice in your hand. The juice was dripping down your fingers now and you cursed softly when you noticed the mess it was about to create. 

Before you could grab a nearby towel to clean it up your wrist was grabbed by warm fingers. “M-minnie?” 

The beta plucked the stick from your hand and threw it in the sink a few feet away- the wood making a quiet thump as it landed. Seungmin took the hand that was in his grasp and lifted it up to his face and stuck out his tongue. You held your breath as he slowly licked up the dripping juice that lingered on your fingers. The action was so erotic and abrupt that you felt a flood of slick form in your underwear. 

Seungmin held eye contact while he licked and sucked each individual finger, and you were too entranced to move even an inch. Only after each finger had been ~thoroughly~  cleaned by him did Seungmin let you go. He licked his lips and smirked down at your still dumbstruck expression. “That was pretty tasty. I wonder what other sweet treat you're hiding from me.” 

The boy dropped a wink at you then he fell to his knees in front of you; his hands went to your bare thighs, where they made quick work of pushing your skirt up and out of the way of his next meal. He groaned at the sight of the wet patch of the front of your panties, making you feel self conscious and you threw your palms over your face. “Seungmin! We’re in the kitchen! We can’t do this here!”

He scoffed, “No better place to eat than in the kitchen.” You could feel his hand leave one of your thighs, then you felt the rough pad of what you could assume was his thumb on your clit, rubbing you through the purple material and making your hips buck on reflex. “Looks like you want it too, huh pretty puppy? Gonna sit like a good pup and let your master give you a treat?” 

You didn’t answer him while you sat in contemplation, but that was not what Seungmin wanted. You gasped when your hands were yanked away from hiding you and his rough fingers gripped the underside of your chin, squishing your cheeks harshly. 

“I asked you if you were gonna be good for me, don’t act like a mutt and answer my question.” His growled words held a warning in them and you knew better than to test his patience right now. 

“Yesh Seunminf.” You answered the best you could with your smushed lips, eyes already glassy and begging for his mercy. 

“Good girl.” 

His signature smirk returned to his beautiful face and he let your face go then brought his attention back to your center. This time he decided to not waste anymore time, and he dove in face first to your clothed core. Seungmin nosed your clit through the fabric and it had you gushing even more. He was breathing deeply as if trying to absorb as much of your pure scent as possible and you could see a hint of his eyes rolling back into his head. It made you want to hide behind your hands again but you didn’t want to risk the repercussions. 

He hummed when his wet tongue stuck out and he pulled your panties into his mouth, sucking your essence out of the fabric. The act was one of the lewdest things you have ever fucking seen; it made your body burn with both embarrassment and titilation. 

“Minnie” You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped when he kept licking into you, making obscene grunts as he feasted on you and made your underwear beyond soaked. As good as it felt it was not enough. You craved more. “Minnie please.” 

He ignored your plea, instead he dug his face even further as he suckled your panties into his mouth. The beta was getting lost in you- in your pussy- it was his favorite thing in the world (everything about you was, really). He kept at it until he felt your thighs squeeze against his head. 

Seungmin pulled his face back and glared at you for interrupting him. “Thought you were gonna behave.” 

You whimpered and bit your lip. “M’ sorry Minnie. Didn’t mean too. Just need more.” 

“More?” He scoffed, “My greedy puppy wants more? You think you deserve it?” 

You nodded rapidly, rushing your words out.  “Yes, please. Been good.” 

He huffed in contemplation, then he surprised you by ripping your soaking underwear off your body and suddenly you were hoisted from your place on the counter. “Fine, I'll give my puppy a real treat then.” He crashed his lips into yours, his mouth instantly devouring your own. You moaned against his lips and you felt him smirk again, and he nibbled on your tongue, making you squeal from the light pain. 

Thinking he was going to set you down on the ground you had no time to react before you found that the beta had basically thrown himself down onto the ground on his back, and hauled you down with him so you were sat atop of his chest. Then he gave you an expectant look. 

“Uhh” You were utterly confused, “I dont…I don’t know what…” 

Seungmin rolled his eyes and sighed, “Thought it was pretty obvious.” He motioned to his face. “Sit on my face.” 

“Huh?” 

“Sorry. Please sit on my face.” 

The casualty of his request was staggering; it left you in absolute shock especially since he had requested it in the kitchen. That was the biggest hurdle that you were having trouble getting over. “But..We’re in the kitchen… during broad daylight where anyone could walk in on us... Maybe we should go up to your room?” 

Your defiance was starting to irritate the beta, his eyes hardening even further and he let out a growl. “I don’t give a flying fuck where we are or what time of day it is. I will fuck you whenever and whereever I want. Now scoot your ass up here and sit on my fucking face and let me eat your pretty pussy. I’m done asking.” 

You yelped when his hands harshly gripped your thighs and he forcefully dragged you up until you were hovering over his awaiting mouth. The grip he had on you only tightened when he immediately dug his face into your core, making you gasp at the contact and your hands flew to his hair to balance yourself or you would have risked falling over.  

“Oh my god, Seungmin!” You couldn’t help but rock your hips as you moaned and called out his name as he lapped at your center; greedily swallowing down the nectar that flowed freely from you.  By now his nails were embedding themselves into your skin with how hard they were digging in, trying to keep you still so he could enjoy his meal. “M-minnie, s’good.” 

“Mmmmmm” He hummed and slurped at you obscenely, his lips encircled your clit and you felt the vibrations hit your sensitive nub. You jerked and spasmed when he gave your clit a teasing nip with his teeth. He chuckled when you tried to get away from the painful pleasure and held on even tighter; so tight you could feel the blood begin to rush from the wounds his nails inflicted. “Nope, you’re staying right here.” 

The slurping and moaning was so loud that honestly you were surprised someone else hadn’t already walked in to find you in this compromising position. Though the music was still playing so the tunes must be drowning out your obscenities. You looked down at the boy beneath you and his face was hidden by your skirt, the flimsy material hiding his rapturous expression. 

“So fucking tasty.” The beta mumbled, his words muffled,  feeling himself become almost drunk on your ambrosia. “Most delectable pussy I’ve ever tasted.”  

“You really have no fucking shame, do you Seungmin? I can smell what you're doing from outside.” 

Your head had been thrown back in pleasure so you hadn’t noticed a new arrival to the kitchen, nor had you noticed said arrival leaning against the counter a few feet away watching your fucked out expression for at least five minutes. 

Seungmin growled from under you, feeling possessive over his bounty. “Go away Minho. We’re busy.” 

The elder beta snorted a laugh, “Yeah I can see that.” Minho waltzed over to where Seungmin laid on the ground and crouched down in front of you. He reached out and lifted the skirt that hid the boy's face, meeting the mean glare that the younger boy was sporting; though Seungmin never stopped his ministrations. Minho flipped the skirt back over the others face and stood again. 

Minho took in your glassy eyes and the little whimpers that escaped your lips with every suck and swipe of the younger boy's tongue. He noticed the way your mouth puckered subconsciously as if it were searching for something. Minho reached out and cupped your cheek in his warm hand, his thumb running along your open bottom lip. 

“M-min” Your voice was pleading, though you didn’t know what you were asking for. 

“Mmm what do you need omega?” He cooed at you condescendingly, already having an idea but wanting to piss off the other beta. “Need me to take care of you too?” 

“I said go the fuck away you asshole. She doesn’t need anything from you.” Seungmin all but snarled at Minho, his voice raspy and wet from the juices in his mouth. 

“I wasn’t asking you, Seungminnie. I was asking our beautiful omega.” He stroked your cheek and kept looking down into your watery eyes, holding deep eye contact. “And by the looks of it she needs a little more stimulation. So what do you say, Baby?” 

You didn’t want to upset Seungmin but you needed something more. With trepidation you nodded your head, and grabbed onto the man standing in front of you. 

“M-more, Minho. Please.” 

He tsked, “Is that what you call me, omega?” 

Was he really about to embarrass you in front of Seungmin? 

He looked down at you with that domineering gaze and a flicker of arrogance on his face.

Yes. Yes he was. 

“Sir.” You whined, trying to keep your voice low. 

“Hmm? What was that, I couldn’t hear you. You’ll have to speak up like a big girl.” 

Seungmins tongue buried particularly deep into your hole, making you moan and lurch forward into Minho who held you steady. 

You took a deep breath and blinked back tears. You raised your voice a few octaves and held him tighter. “Sir, need something. Please Sir.” 

“Oh my fucking god” You heard Seungmin murmur in disbelief at the nickname you called Minho. 

“That’s my good girl. Here you go baby.” The patronizing beta ran his thumb along your lip again before forcefully shoving it into your open mouth. Instantly you started sucking on the appendage, it being just what you needed for your oral fixation. You hummed around the digit and lathed your tongue on the pad of it. 

Your hips started bucking even more and your whines got louder. You could feel your high approaching at a rapid pace now and apparently the two men could tell you were close. Just as you felt the knot begin to tighten within you, Seungmin gave your clit a big suck into his mouth and that was the kick you needed. 

The welled up tears started to leak down your face as you came, and your eyes fluttered shut at the delicious pleasure that went through your whole body. Your eyes snapped back open when you felt a sharp sting on your cheek and Minho was glowering down at you still with his cat-like eyes. 

“Look at me while he makes you cum. Don’t you dare look away from me.” He hissed and shoved another finger down your throat, making you choke. 

You fought to keep your eyes open as you came, shaking and whimpering from your place on Seungmins face. The slurping from below got louder as your sweet essence was dranken up by the beta man. The sound was downright filthy. 

Finally, Seungmins tongue had stopped moving within you and had returned to his own mouth. He gave you a moment to finish shaking then he scooted you down so you sat on his stomach once again. Minho let his hands fall from your face as he drank in the fucked out sight of you. 

Seungmin lifted his head from the floor as he comfortingly ran his fingers over the small wounds his nails left. His face was drenched in your slick, the liquid dripping down his chin as he sat up slightly and his tongue shot out to catch the drippage. He made a show of groaning at the taste of it when he licked his lips. 

“Mmm delectable.” 

You felt your face heat up as the mortification caught up with you. You peeked up to see Minho still standing there watching your every move and you couldn’t bear to look him or Seungmin in the eye so you cast them down instead. 

“What’s the matter, puppy? Are you embarrassed that Minho Hyung caught you out in the open acting like a dirty mutt in heat for me? Or are you upset you didn’t get to cum on my cock instead?” 

The teasing words had you whimpering and you involuntarily clenched your thighs around Seungmins waist. Seungmin was growing more and more open to the help of Minho, seeing how desperate it had made you and he knew the new possible ways to play with you were endless. 

Minho bent down and got close to your face as he fake pouted. “Aww I think she wants you to fuck her properly, Minnie. Look at her writhing at the mere thought of it.” It was true, you were fidgeting and you could feel even more slick gathering from your pussy and onto Seungmins shirt. “Poor baby needs your dick, Seung.” 

They both grinned at each other mischievously, both betas locking eyes in a silent understanding. This was going to be so fun.

The maps on Chan's phone alerted him that his destination was on the right hand side. The alpha kissed his teeth as he threw his phone on the passenger seat, then opened the door and stepped out. This was his last and most pressing matter of the day and he was ready to get it over with. 

Stepping up to the doorstep of the small house Chan knocked on the door and waited. After a minute the door was opened to a familiar face. 

“Chan, what a surprise! What can I do for you?” The elder man had a kind smile and seemed genuinely happy to see Chan. 

“How are you, JYP? It’s been awhile.” Chan shook hands with the beta man and he peered past the door for a moment. They exchanged quick pleasantries but Chan declined the offer to come inside. “Oh no thank you, I can’t stay long. I was actually looking for Wooyoung. I heard he was staying with you and wondered if he was in?” 

“My nephew? Yes he is in right now, I’ll get him for you.” Chan smiled and thanked JYP. “WOOYOUNG YOU HAVE A VISITOR!” 

A thundering of feet could be heard walking through the house and then Chan got his first in-person look at Wooyoung. The beta was slightly taller than Chan was, and he had long arms but he was on the lankier side. He noticed the smile fell from Wooyoung's face when he saw just who was at the door for him. Chan heard him whisper a quiet ‘shit’, and he had to bite back a devilish grin. 

“Hi, my name is Chan. I was wondering if you had a second to speak with me.” He noticed the hesitation on the boy's face, so he pressed the order a tad harder. “It’ll only take a minute.” 

Wooyoung was shoved out the door by his uncle, who gave him a pat on the back. “ Of course he has plenty of time! Chan does alot for this town, so be polite Wooyoung.” With that the elder man shut the door and gave them some privacy.

Chan could see the nerves that laid within the boy; the twiddle of his fingers and the anxious run of his tongue on his lip gave him away instantly. Good, he should be scared. 

“Nice to meet you Wooyoung. Changbin has told me alot about you.” 

“O-oh. Changbin is a good friend.” 

The alpha hummed in agreement, nodding. “He is. He is a good man and a great pack mate.” Chan took a subtle step closer to the beta. 

“Did Changbin send you here?” Wooyoung asked, mentally running over what Bin could have said to Chan. 

Chan clicked his teeth, and shook his head. “Nah. I came of my own volition. I actually had a question I wanted to ask you.” 

“Ok, what is i-” Before Wooyoung could finish his question, Chan's hand shot out and grabbed onto the younger man's throat. Suddenly Wooyoung's face was shoved forcefully against the wood of the house, his nose smashing and he could feel the crack of his bone and blood start to drip out. 

Chan snickered at the noise of pain Wooyoung let out and he tightened his grip on his neck. Chan dug his nails sharply into the skin and he felt the betas windpipe beneath his fingers. He got closer to Wooyoung until his broad body was trapping him against the wall.

“Do you like being grabbed, Wooyoung?” Chan seethed but kept his tone relatively calm, albeit a bit menacing. “Do you like it when a stranger that's stronger than you puts his hands on you?” When the beta didn’t answer Chan yanked him back and re-shoved his bloody face into the wood and made the beta hiccup from the pain. Chan's other hand had a tight hold on Wooyoung's hands and he kept them locked behind his back so he couldn’t fight back.

 “Let me tell you something, motherfucker. Changbin is a good man. But I’m not.” Chan increased the pressure on his neck, the beta letting out a choking gurgle as the blood flooded his mouth. “And I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. So this is going to be your only warning.” Chan lowered his voice to an ominous sneer. “If you ever put your filthy fucking hands on my omega or my packmate again, I will rip your arms from your torso and throw them in the woods for the bears to eat.” 

Wooyoung squirmed and moaned in pain, his airways closing more and more with each passing second. For a split second he wondered if he would ever escape. Suddenly all the air he had been searching for came rushing back to him as he was released. Wooyoung fell to his knees and his hands flew to his neck as he coughed and sputtered, the blood of his face flying in specs everywhere.

“The only reason I haven’t done so already is out of respect for your uncle, who has been a pillar in our society. Be grateful he was able to save you… This time.” Chan stepped back and straightened himself out. “Go clean yourself up before you make too big of a mess on that poor man's porch.” 

With that Chan stepped off the porch and left the beta crying and sputtering, and slipped back into his car. He drove away without so much as a single glance back- as if the ordeal hadn’t even occurred at all. 

“Ngghhh” You gurgled out the best you could around Minho's cock but it only came out in a slobbery whine. His member was pistoning in and out of your mouth as he held your hair, using your face to get himself off but also making you incredibly horny. 

Seungmin was still under you but now instead of his face you were sitting atop his dick reverse cowgirl; the thick appendage sliding in with reckless abandon. Your thighs were burning but the divine pleasure of being used by them was too delicious for you to care. The sloshing from both your pussy and your mouth makes you dizzy and your brain mushy- you had no choice but to give yourself over to them completely (much to their- and your- delight).

“Feels so good, your pussy is always so damn tight. My dirty pup. So fucking good for us.” Seungmin could feel the way your walls clenched around him at the praise and it made him moan loudly. He cursed and his own hips started to quiver with the impending orgasm. 

“The best omega we could have asked for.” Minho was next to praise you, his head thrown back and his breathing hard. He himself also was not far from cumming. He groaned at the sight of your tears continuously leaking down your cheeks and mixing with the saliva on your chin. 

Minho opened his eyes when he sensed another presence nearby. Or to him it was more like a pest lurking around. Big boba eyes peered slowly through the threshold, hoping to catch a good look at what was happening in there, his cock twitching in his pants. Minho bit back a grunt, and he called out to the boy. 

“Get outta here Jisung, go jerk off somewhere else you pervert.”

A squeak left the younger boy and he turned around, bumping into his accomplice that seemed just as alarmed at being caught. Felix. He could hear them scurry down the hall together and rolled his eyes at their antics. It didn’t seem like you even noticed they had appeared or left at all.

For the two betas this was sort of poetic. A few weeks prior they had been at odds about you- and now here they were, coming together because of you, both with a common goal in mind; ultimate pleasure. 

“Touch your clit, baby. Make yourself cum on my dick, get me all messy with your slick pretty girl. I wanna be soaked in it from head to toe.” Seungmin requested through his moans and you did as he said, your nimble fingers traveling down your body and to your aching nub. You spasmed and whined when you made contact with it, which in turn made your walls quiver around Minnie's length. 

Minho's hand that wasn’t in your hair was on your now bare breast, fondling the heaving flesh and pinching at your nipple. You cried louder when he pinched particularly roughly on your already abused nipple. It was the final push you needed before you came for the third time today. You gasped and choked on Minho's length, making him pull out of your mouth so you could breathe. 

When you came your walls clamped down on Seungmin and triggered his orgasm, the betas hips stuttering as he filled you with his essence. “Fuuckkkk holy shit, so tight puppy.” 

The view of you both cumming together was too much for Minho and he stroked his member quickly in front of your open mouth, “So hot, what the fuck” he said through clenched teeth as his high came forcefully and his cum spurted out of the tip and onto your face, some of it getting into your open moaning mouth. 

All three of you were quite a sight, all shaking and crying with pleasure together in the middle of the kitchen. You and Seungmin were both covered in cum and slick, the combination of the two leaking out of you and all over the beta man's thighs and onto the floor. Minho couldn’t help himself and he leaned down and ran the fat of his tongue along your cheeks, collecting the salty mixture of your tears and some of his cum, and moaning from the taste. 

After a few moments all three of you were able to collect your breath and calm down. You were drifting in deep space and barely registered Minho's arms scooping you up and off of Seungmin. You let out a quiet hiss when your thighs were able to move from the held position. 

“Shh it’s ok baby. I know you're sore, we’ll take care of you.” Minho cooed and set you down on the counter again. “Hold still f’ me baby.” He used a damp rag to clean the remaining semen off of your face. You sat perfectly still as he made you sip a cup of water provided by Minnie. After every sip you took you were rewarded by pecks on your lips and a soft ‘good girl’. 

 After you finished your water you were scooped up again but this time by Seungmin. He had pulled his shorts back up but you were still completely naked as he carried you through the halls and to Chan's bathroom and to the massive bathtub. 

The two of you bathed together as you slowly came back down to earth. The beta smothered you with kisses and made sure to clean you thoroughly. It was just what you needed after the rough fucking they had put you through, even though you enjoyed it immensely. 

Minho was in the kitchen cleaning up the mess when he heard Chan come in and head into the kitchen, a grocery bag in his hand. Chan noticed the blush on the betas cheeks and the mop in his hand, a knowing smirk coming across the alphas face. 

“Make a mess?” 

Minho eyed the specs of blood that stained Chan's shirt and raised a brow. “I could ask you the same.” 

Chan shrugged and set the bag on the freshly cleaned counter top, pulling out a brand new pack of popsicles that he promptly stuck in the freezer. “Just went to clean up a mess, actually.” 

The beta hummed in understanding. “Baby is in the bath with Seung. She is feeling really delicate right now so I’d change my shirt if I were you.” 

Chan shot him a grateful thumbs up and headed up to his room, tearing his shirt off before he entered. He could hear you giggling and the sound of the drain from his bathroom so he quickly shucked on a new shirt then went into the adjoining room. 

“Stop Minnie!” You were laughing as you playfully pushed Seungmin away as he tried to tickle your sides. You were sitting on the counter as the beta dried you off after your bath. 

“I can’t help it, rules are rules, I have to tickle you after a bath. I can’t change the law, omega.” 

“You liar! Stop your nonsense!” It was then that you noticed Chan enter the bathroom. “Alpha!” You beamed and reached a hand out as a plea for help against the beta.

“I’ll save you, my love.” He laughed and dramatically grabbed Seungmin by the shoulders and shook him, making the beta laugh even louder and try to hold on to you. Chan was able to pull Seungmin away and held his arms as the younger boy struggled. “I got him, run baby!” 

You wrapped your towel tighter around you and hopped off the counter, only for your legs to give out after you took a single step and you plummeted to the ground. Your thighs were so sore you couldn’t even walk. 

At once both boys stopped playing and rushed to your side, with Chan hauling you up into his arms. “Are you ok baby?” 

You nodded, giggling and burying your face into his chest. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing the shirt he left in, but you decided not to bring it up. “Yeah I’m fine. My legs are just too weak right now. You guys really did a number on me.” You didn’t miss the low five Chan offered Seungmin. “Hey!” You smacked his shoulder and he only laughed harder. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Seungmin realized he was still borderline naked; with only a towel wrapped around his waist- and gave you a tender kiss as you sat in the alphas arms. “I’m gonna go get dressed. I’ll see you in a little while, pup.” 

Nodding you returned his kiss, “Ok Minnie. I love you.” 

“Love you too.” He felt his face heat up as he murmured the sentiment, glaring at the alpha who smirked at him and wiggled his brows. “Oh fuck off Hyung.” 

“Loooovee youuuu Minnniieeeee” Chan drawled teasingly as the younger passed him, cackling when Seungmin flipped him off as he left the room. Chan carried you to his bed and set you down on the soft sheets. Then he gathered a tank top and a pair of his boxers for you to wear. 

“How was your day, Channie?” You asked him once you were dressed. 

He tossed his head back and forth with a grin. “I had a pretty good day. And by the smell in the house I could say you did too.” Your face heated up and you pouted. “You won’t be pouting for long, omega. I got you something special while I was gone.”

That perked you right up, eyes showing your excitement. “Really? What is it?” 

“Close your eyes.” You did as you were told, screwing your lids shut tight. You heard him shuffle until he was on his knees on the bed behind you. Ever so slightly you felt the coolness of a metal chain fall around your neck, and you could feel Chan clip it behind you. “You can open your eyes now my love.” 

You snapped them open and instantly looked down at the necklace. Hanging down on a little silver chain was a ‘C’ made of rose gold. You cradled the pendant and turned to face your alpha, your lip wobbling. “Oh Channie. I love it. Thank you so much.” You launched yourself into him and wrapped him in your arms. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” 

Chan felt sheepish all of a sudden, holding on to you just as tight. “You’re welcome, baby. I know you have my bite but I wanted you to have another little piece of me with you always. Somewhere I can stay close to your heart.” 

You were literally melting at his words, your heart feeling light in your chest as you squeezed him. “I love you Channie. So, so much. I’m so grateful to have you.” 

“Aww baby, I love you too. More than words could express.” He kissed the top of your head. 

Chan couldn’t imagine his life without you in it, he loved you so much. Hell, you were soulmates for crying out loud. He would do anything for you. Care for you, love you, protect you. And nothing and no one was going to take you from him. That he was certain. 

“Oh and I picked you up another pack of popsicles.” 

“Fuck yeah!” 

Looks like omega got eaten after all 😁And chan turned into quite the wolf didn't he 🐺😈

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Also if any one wants to chat about the story or share predictions please send me an ask!!

Beta read by my loves @ayejaii and @jehhskz <3

©doitforbangchan

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[oatmealwrites]

A Night to... Forget? Ch.1

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Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! Reader

for ch.2 click here

(For reference I aged up Keigo (Hawks to 25 ish just for the ages of you and Aizawa to make sense)

I will also use the pro hero last names for the first chapter with their pro name next to them in case you don't recognize

Word Count: 5.5k

SYNOPSIS: You never really felt like you had a quirk. Sure you technically did, but tons of people have been born with eidetic memories in the past, even before quirks became mainstream. You gave up the dream of being a pro-hero like your friends and instead found comfort in support through law. After a particularly draining case you assisted on, you find yourself dragged out to a bar with your best friend Keigo (hawks). The whole night was a bad idea, taking Keigo up on his drinking game was worse, especially when Aizawa was there. It’s the man you can’t help yourself pining over, and it’s the one night you can’t remember.

Masterlist

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With the final tap of the judge’s wooden gavel, you rise to your feet and let out a sigh of any remaining energy you had left. The court marshals walked over to the defendant and swiftly cuffed the villain despite his loud and physical efforts to resist; your eyes following the marshals slowly escorting the man out of the room and noting the way his protests deafened once the doors swung closed.

“Nice work out there Y/N.”

You look over past the mid-height railing that separates the spectators from the court floor and lock eyes with detective Tsukauchi. A small smile on his face as he stands perfectly upright and attent.

“Thanks detective -”

“How many times do I have to say you can just call me Tsukauchi?”

You bite your tongue and shake your head lightly, now shuffling files into your soft leather briefcase and packing up.

“Right Tsukauchi. Thanks for your support, I didn’t realize you were going to be coming to the sentencing today.”

The detective adjusts his collar and scans the crowd of heroes, attorneys, policemen, and spectators slowly shuffling for the exits, obviously searching for someone, “It's always nice to see the next generation of people fighting for justice in action.”

You pause and raise an eyebrow; understanding there’s another reason for his attendance. “Toshinori (All Might) is probably in the lobby by now.” You continue sliding the court files into your bag, one by one, only focused on getting out of the courthouse and into bed.

Tsukauchi looks back at you, a slightly shocked expression on his face before he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck and smiles, “Right, thanks. I’ll see you around the station when you pick up files for your next case.”

You give a slight wave off to him and turn to sling the straps of your briefcase over your head and across your chest, ready to finally go home and sleep. Turning your head, your eyes follow the prosecutor you extern for walking back from his short talk with the judge who was now packing up as well.

“Nice job kid!” He gives you a slight pack on the back and pulls his cellphone from his pocket, scrolling through his contacts briefly,  “I’m gonna have the secretary forward the followup paperwork over to you to file. Think you can get it done by Monday? We have a few more cases already pending and this one needs to close ASAP.”

You grip the straps of your briefcase and do your best not let your exhaustion show. This prosecutor is a big deal in your externship and unfortunately that also means most of your free time gets sacrificed. Instead of letting out the sigh that was sitting in your lungs, you swallow thickly and nod once, “Of course. I’ll start on it right away. Do you want me to begin memorizing the next case’s notes as well?”

The prosecutor snaps his fingers while looking up from his phone and slings his own briefcase over his shoulder, “Are you sure your quirk is eidetic and not mindreading?”

He laughs at his own joke before walking out of the court floor, past the spectator stands, and into the lobby, not bothering to even say goodbye.

You stand there for a moment, reviewing the plans you made this weekend that would now need to be rearranged. Meeting classmates in the library for group study (which was really group reading 200+ pages of law textbooks) should be uninterrupted at the usual meeting time of 9am.

Your report to UA might need a slight tweak, but nothing more than a few hours. Before every case you worked on, you always met with the pro-hero who had captured the villain who you would be assisting in prosecuting. Every detail memorized and ready for paperwork and eventually the courtroom floor.

The main issue would be Keigo. With a slight sigh you push your hair out of your face and pull up his contact, ready to flake on him and his movie night for the third week in a row. Stepping out of the court room floor you make your way out to the lobby and shift in between the groups of people to a small open area near the front windows.

You click the ‘dial’ button and raise the phone to your ear, looking out the window and the setting sun bringing a warm glow to the city. You hear a soft ring once, and then twice before you notice a cellphone from across the lobby ringing at the same interval. Before your eyes can even fully adjust to the sunset’s glare, you spot your best friend from across the room holding up his phone with a coy smile and heading to you.

You end the call and shuffle forward while sliding your cellphone into your blazer pocket, “What are you doing here?”

Keigo’s usual hero uniform was replaced with a gray t-shirt and black denim jeans; either on the way home or just coming from it. He casually glides a hand through his hair, pushing it back and letting a few stray strands fall back over his forehead again.

“Came to pick you up obviously.”

You raise an eyebrow and adjust the straps on your shoulder, “Huh? For what?”

Keigo side steps to allow other people to pass by and smoothly guides you out of the way with a slight pressure on your upper arm, “There’s a group going out to a bar to celebrate. A handful of pro heroes from UA and such are going, plus I’m sure some of your law school buddies will be around.”

You tilt your head, “Celebrate what?”

The lobby now getting busier and busier with spectators, police officers, and more leaving, Keigo gently grabs your elbow and pulls you near the vending machines by the exit doors.

“Celebrate the fact it’s Friday…?” He scratches the back of his head and laughs, “Ok well it’s more like everyone has been super busy catching villains and uhh..-”

“Prosecuting”

“Prosecuting,” he snaps his fingers, “so it was like a group decision to take some time off and relax.”

You squint at him, “Uh huh? I have a lot of work to do and so do you as well anyways,” You turn to the exit and Keigo quickly pivots to block your path.

“I knew you were gonna say that,” he pokes your shoulder lightly, “and I knew you were probably gonna flake on movie night again this week.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and purse your lips slightly at being read so easily. It’s not like you were trying to avoid him, you just had way too much on your plate at the moment. Your silence is answer enough for him and he smiles in victory

“Ok then it’s settled. Come have a few drinks and the weekend is all yours to do your boring school stuff.”

You shove his shoulder lightly, knowing you could never convince him otherwise, “Ok fine. And I want it known that I don’t enjoy doing homework or externship duties over hanging out.”

You both push off the wall and maneuver the crowd to the large wooden double doors of the exit and descend the stone stairs to the small courtyard. The sun quickly setting causes nearby business signs to flicker on a warm glow of colors up and down the street.

You continue walking down the courtyard and head towards the nearby parking lot and main road; a metro station sign illuminating a portion of the sidewalk.

“Who’d you even get to agree to this anyways?”

Keigo hums and looks down at you from the corner of his eyes.

“You said there was a group,” you run a hand through your hair, now wondering if your appearance is even nice enough to warrant going out. The slight breeze brings small goosebumps to your legs; the pencil skirt and opaque black tights not providing much warmth.

“Oh.. you know them all so don’t worry,” he stops at the escalator entrance to the metro station, “Seriously just relax ok? You look great and you’ll have a great time.”

His touch is gentle on the small of your back as he lets you step onto the moving stair in front of him. You rock back and forth in your kitten heels, balancing on the ridges of the escalator and looking up at Keigo.

“Am I gonna be the only one dressed like this?”

He pulls a pack of gum from his pocket and offers you a piece, throwing up an eyebrow in the process, “Hm? You’re dressed fine. You know, you worry too much.”

You throw the minty gum into your mouth and step off the escalator to scan your transit card at the metro entrance gate, “Couldn’t you just like, fly me home so I could at least drop my briefcase off?”

Keigo follows you past the scanners and towards the platform, he puts his hand out to hold your bag without even saying a word. You scoff and roll your eyes, but sling the straps off anyways and place the weight in his hand. He flings it over his shoulder and stands at the edge of the platform, watching the tv sign estimate of the next train’s arrival, “That would take too long. Everyone is probably already there.”

You suck the inside of your cheek between your molars and sway on your heels again absentmindedly, only stopping when Keigo’s hand places a weight on your shoulder. Before you can even speak a yellow glow lights up the end of the platform walls and a strong gust blows back your hair and blazer fabric.

His hand only leaves your shoulder once the automatic doors slide open and the glow of the train car’s fluorescent lights pour onto the platform. Keigo steps on the train and maneuvers through a few people to secure a seat for himself and one for you across from him.

*******

The sun has completely set at this point with only the street lights, car headlights, and neon business signs glowing warmly onto the street. The bar in question is nice and secluded, but not in a questionable part of town, just a bit more residential. It’s only a few metro stops away from your friend’s apartment, and you’ve been here with Keigo more times than you can count.

Your heels click softly on the ground as you walk next to him, only stopping at the door to pry your bag open to look for your ID while Keigo holds it open. The bouncer recognizes him right away, giving a soft ‘Hawks’ upon seeing him despite the fact that nearly every time he visits you’re with him as well.

He opens the door for you and the warm air of the bar comfortably surrounds you; the music and chatter a distinct change from the quiet streets outside. It’s crowded, but not uncomfortably. Groups of people surround the billiards table, nearly every bar stool is taken, and the booths by the dance floor seemed mostly filled. It made sense given it’s Friday night.

As you work through a few bodies to approach the bar you give a slight elbow to Keigo, “It’s so dumb, why does he insist on checking my ID every time? It’s not like he hasn’t seen us both here before a million times.”

He laughs and guides you through a few bodies before pulling out two empty bar stools for you both to sit at, “It would be hard for anyone to forget this face.”

You roll your eyes and spin in the chair to face the bartender, your left hand now cradling your head while Keigo sits closely on your right side, “shut up…”

He laughs and shakes your shoulder, “Oh come on. Here, let me get us some shots,” he pauses and examines you for a moment, “wait, have you eaten yet?”

You shrug and look at bottles behind the bartender, trying to determine what shot you wanted, “Umm a few hours ago. Why don’t we just get food after? It always tastes better anyways.”

He snaps his fingers and hums, “Ohh ok ok. Sounds good, just don’t go getting shitfaced beforehand.”

You scoff and wave your hand at him, “Yea, yea… tequila?”

He smiles and leans on the counter, getting the bartender's attention while you survey the bar. Most are local residents and college kids but you spot a few groups of police officers and heroes in the back booths. Shifting in your seat to get a better view, you can make out the faces of Kayama (midnight), Tsukauchi, and Toshinori. With one more tilt of your head you then spot Yamada (present mic)  and Aizawa..

You spin in your barseat abruptly and nearly bump the lime in Keigo’s hands onto the counter. He pulls his hands back and furrows his eyebrows, “Hey watch out I almost-”

His gaze follows yours and you frantically look anywhere else and claw at him to not be so obvious.

“Ohhh I see,” The biggest shit-eaitng grin spreading across his face.

You sink your face into your palms, not bothering to worry if it smudges your makeup, “Shut up.”

Keigo keeps looking at Aizawa for an extra moment before spinning back towards you and kicking you gently under the bar counter.

 “To be fair, I didn’t even think he was gonna show,” he slides a shot glass over to you with his left hand, the limes sitting in his right.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was gonna be here?”

You take the shot glass and stare down at the liquid before Keigo slides a lime in your right hand.

“Ok so bad news, no salt.”

You glare at him, obviously there was worse news than that right now.

“He hates me.”

Keigo rolls his eyes, getting impatient and wanting to drink already, “He does not. He’s like that with everyone,” he lifts his shot glass up right below his lips, gently guiding your hand holding yours to mirror the position. “Now let’s drink already.”

You give him one last glance before downing the liquid with an intense grimace, the fire burning down your throat. You place the shot glass back on the counter and sink your teeth into the lime, letting the sour juice mask the intensity of the alcohol.

Keigo exhales roughly and sticks out his tongue slightly with a contorted face, “oh my g-,” he coughs before he can get words entirely out. The disruption causes a few heads to turn, but people return back to their conversations a moment later.

You peel the lime from your lips and shake your head lightly, “Ok, maybe a different brand next time.”

You wince and pop the lime into the empty shot glass then slide it back towards the bartender and before you can turn to Keigo, his hand is wiping a napkin on your chin.

“Jeez you made a mess-”

You scowl and take the paper from his hands to wipe your face but raise an eyebrow at his sudden shiver. His shoulders roll forward uncomfortably and he arches his spine like cold water got dumped on his back. Before you can ask if he’s alright, he sits back up and shakes his head, “Ugh, sorry. I just had, like a weird feeling or something.”

Laughter pours out from somewhere behind you, the patrons and heroes in the booths now blocked by the other customers in the bar. He shrugs and shakes his head, “Ok, another?”

“Honestly, yea.. I’m gonna need it if he’s here.”

Keigo rolls his eyes and holds up two fingers to the bartender, though he motions towards a different bottle on the rack this time, “Come on Y/N. He’s just got a stick up his ass, though maybe you could remov-”

“Augh, no. I don’t even have his phone number let alone a chance of anything besides being barely colleagues. He’s even left the room the moment I entered, and I was only at UA to help him prosecute one of the villains he caught. He even mumbled about being ‘unable to work with me’.”

“That didn’t happen.”

“I literally couldn’t forget it even if I tried.”

Keigo sniffs the new shot glass and makes a face in between ‘not good, but not bad’ and slides one over to you, “Your quirk is remember what you saw not what he said.”

You hunch over the shot and take a fresh lime from his hand, “It’s the same vibe though.”

Keigo throws the shot back with less of a dramatic reaction than before and digs his canines into the lime, “And yet you still have a thing for him? Kinda weird if you ask me.”

You follow suit in taking the shot and draining the juice from lime onto your tongue before frustratingly shaking your head, “I don’t!”

He raises an eyebrow with a deadpan.

“Ok, I don’t know why. I just do.”

Keigo stands up from the barstool and takes your briefcase, ready to join the rest of the group, “You just need to go on a date and stop hanging out with so many pencil pushers; it’s messing you up.”

With a hop off the stool, you straighten your skirt and follow him into the crowd of people, only weaving through a few groups before you approach the booth with everyone sitting and now looking up at you and Keigo expectedly.

“Hey! You guys made it!” Yamada booms from his position in the booth against the wall.

Keigo smiles and examines the seating arrangement. On the left booth, in the order from the wall to the dancefloor is Kayama, Toshinori, and Tsukauchi. On the right, from the wall out is Yamada and Aizawa.

You look at Keigo in a ‘don't’ you dare’ while he smirks back at you and slides next to Toshinori, leaving you sitting across from him and next to Aizawa. The wooden back of the booth creates an awkward angle and you arch forward to keep an upright position.

Kayama takes a sip from her drink and leans on the table, “We were just talking about the upcoming recess. Us teachers will have a week off with no school, not that it would apply to you guys though.”

There’s a pitcher on the table of a generic looking pale beer; Keigo makes a face asking permission and Tsukauchi gives a nod of approval. He pours you each a pint and you raise an eyebrow.

“Woa, letting loose tonight?”

Keigo smiles at Yamada and clinks his glass to yours, “Just celebrating the company.”

Aizawa shifts slightly beside you and takes a sip from his own drink, avoiding any comment in the conversation. His eyes linger in a scowl on Keigo for a moment before turning his attention to Yamada.

You stare at Keigo and silently curse him with your eyes for the seating arrangement while he leans back into the seat with the rim of his glass resting on his lower lips, enjoying the show in front of him.

“Why don’t we play a game everyone?”

The group turns to your friend waiting for him to elaborate.

“Just a simple drinking game, maybe… King’s Cup?

Tsukauchi rolls his eyes slightly. “That’s a bit childish no?”

Kayama smiles wide, “Oh it’ll be fun! Does anyone have any cards?”

Yamada smirks and slides a pack onto the table without missing a beat and the table erupts into excitement.

You find yourself a bit nervous at the proposal and tug at the collar of your button up shirt in slight heat. His stupid drinking games never end well.

While Yamada begins to shuffle the cards, you shimmy off your blazer, not wanting to spill anything on the overpriced fabric you expect to last you the end of law school.

“I can put it with mine, if you want.”

The voice is deep and curt and enough to make you finally look at the man sitting next to you. Aizawa’s hair tucked back into a half-bun with a few strands framing his face along with his signature 5 o’clock shadow indicating he’s been too tired to shave. He sits casually in a black long sleeve and matching black jeans, extending his hand to take your blazer.

“Oh, sure.. Thanks”

Without speaking, he takes the jacket and nudges Yamada’s arm to place it on the little ledge between the booth and the wall. Aizawa turns back to you once again before sipping on his drink and watching the ministrations ahead of him.

“Alright everyone, basic rules but we can remind each other as we go. Do the task associated with the card and have fun,” Keigo pauses and looks at the group, “Though what should we order to be the ‘king’s cup’.”

Toshinori raises an eyebrow at him meekly and holds his soda with both hands, “King’s cup?”

You sip your beer and lean into the booth, silently wishing a bank would be robbed and the entire table would be called into action.

“Whoever draws the fourth and final king from the deck has to drink it. The beverage can be whatever we want,” Keigo smirks at you, “ though preferably strong.”

You scoff and tilt your head further into the glass. Aizawa shifts in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back into the booth with you; his eyes on Keigo.

Toshinori scratches the back of his head, “Oh I see, I don’t drink though so maybe-”

“You can still drink your soda and play! If you choose the last king, you can decide who drinks it!” Yamada’s voice is as loud as the speaker's blaring music.

The group nods in agreement and you take bigger gulps of your drink, ignoring the way the two previous shots of tequila begin warming your skin further. Within 5 minutes the cards are arranged in a circle around a highball glass of long island iced tea.

“Alright everyone,” Kayama claps her hands, “Let’s start!”

******

It was a bad idea. Such a bad idea.

You’ve maybe been playing for 30 minutes and the entire table is to a point of tipsy that everything someone does is hilarious and no one can finish a sentence without a few slip ups. Toshinori is the only voice of reason, though his deflated self isn’t very convincing when he reminds people to hydrate.

The first round went fine with Yamada losing and downing the king’s cup as if it were water, and the table wasted no effort in upping the ante.  The pitchers of beer long empty; now shot glasses and cocktails littered the table with the King’s Cup being a strange concoction of several flavors of vodka, soda water, and orange juice.

“Allllright..” Yamada places his hand on the circle of cards and pulls one out before holding it close to his chest.

Tsuakauchi, who’s a dull red in the cheeks from the alcohol, has relaxed a bit and leans on the table, “Sooo..?”

“4 ….. FLOOR”

Immediately everyone shimmies in their seat to try and touch the floor without being the last one. You pivot from side to side trying to bend over in the booth without lifting your pencil skirt too high. By the time you find a way to lean over, everyone’s hand is already on the floor.

“Ha! Drink up Y/N.”

You scowl at Kayama while squirming into an upright position, both of your faces humming with warmth and flushing from the alcohol. Aizawa waits to grab a card, watching you sip your drink as punishment; coughing slightly, he peels his attention to the table and draws.

“3.. Me.”

His eyebrow twitches as the table howls with laughter at his bad luck. He rolls his eyes and takes a long sip from the jack and coke in his hands, though he watches you in his peripherals.

The table turns its attention to you. You watch Aizawa swallow his beverage and you gulp subconsciously at the sight, too tipsy to realize just how obvious your gaze is. Keigo nudges your shin from under the table and you break your gaze to focus back on the table; the red on your cheeks now from slight embarrassment.

Taking a card, you flip it over and toss it face up, “6 - chicks.”

Kayama smiles and lifts her drink to clink with yours “Yay! I was getting thirsty here ya know.”

Your body hums from the rush and you can feel any decision making skills you have left begin to evaporate out of you. Keigo smiles and leans forward on the table, mirroring your position of resting both elbows on the table, waiting for the next turn.

He flips a card over to reveal the first king, “Ha! Alright I get to make a new rule,” he taps his chin and smirks deviously at you.

“Whenever someone has to drink, the group gets to decide from which cup,” he pauses and looks at Toshinori, “ah but yours will always be nonalcoholic.”

Toshinori gives a thumbs up and the game continuess in a few more circles until your drink is nearly empty and you’ve had a sip from everyone else’s glass at this point. Yamada’s order was a fruity cocktail, Aizawa’s a strong jack and coke, Keigo and Tsukauchi sip on the highest % beer the bar has, and Kayama sips on a long island.

You reach forward to take a card and hold it to your chest to avoid anyone else seeing it first; deciding if it’s a 4 you would have a head start to the ground.

“Heyy you cheater!”

Keigo points at you from the table and swat his hand away while leaning back to avoid him.

“4!”

Instantly you rush to the ground and laugh when you’re the first one to touch, watching Aizawa’s hand reach the bottom last. You discard the card on the table and notice the way he sips his drink, facing the inner corner of the booth and away from you.

Keigo grumbles, though he didn’t even lose, before reaching out and flipping a card over, “Eight - mate.”

Your eyes widen and do their best to look anywhere but your friend, even taking the initiative to lean over and ask Toshinori about how Midoriya’s training was going.

“Y/N~ let’s drink together yea?”

You deflate in your seat and swirl your nearly empty drink in your hands, watching the way Keigo raises his glass to his lips and points at you to do the same. Aizawa doesn’t say anything, and he’s the only one quiet as the rest of the group ‘ooohhhhs’.

Without missing a beat Toshinori reaches forward and flips over a card, revealing the final King. The group’s excitement falters for a moment, everyone hunching over the table looking at the card and then him and then back at the card again.

“You can’t drink it so-”

“You’ll decide who does.”

Yamada finishes Tsukauchi’s sentence and the group looks at Toshinori expectedly; the condensation of the strong cocktail punishment dripping down the glass and onto the table.

Toshinori looks around awkwardly and smiles gently at you, “Well since your drink is nearly empty… maybe you’d like this one?”

It feels like ice down your back and the current buzz of the alcohol already in your system makes you sway side to side in your seat lightly. You blink a few times while the group claps their hands in laughter, all grateful not to be the one to down the beverage.

Your hand grabs the glass and you raise the rim to your lips, taking a small sip before peeling back with a grimace. Everyone but Aizawa continues laughing while you kick Keigo from under the table, “You dick, this is barely anything besides vodka on ice with a splash of orange juice!”

“Drink up!”

Before you can raise the glass again a hand gently grabs your wrist and keeps it still; Aizawa looks focused at you.

“This is a bad idea,,” the table boos slightly but he doesn’t release his grasp, “how many have you had?”

You blink at him, your face flustered from the heat of the bar, the alcohol coursing through your system, and the feeling of him just inches away from your face.

“During the game..?”

“I saw you when you came in initially, you two went up to the bar first.”

When you can’t count the number, Aizawa turns to Keigo and furrows his brows at the man, “How many has she had?”

Keigo sits up before slumping back down on accident and drunkenly blinks at the drink in your hand, “she’s got one drink.”

Aizawa groans and watches you and Keigo become absorbed in conversation.

“No, I've definitely had more than one.”

“Well there’s only one in your hand so..”

“No Keigo,” Aizawa shifts at the sound of his name leaving your lips so casually, “Like before-before.”

“Ohhhh,” he sits upright and remains steady this time, “we each had… two.”

Aizawa releases your hand finally and rubs his temples, doing the math, “So those including the drinks during this game would be… six already,” he points to the glass, “that itself would be another three shots of vodka.”

Keigo huffs and waves Aizawa off, “it’s finee”

Yamada sits forward, “Well don’t you have to drink it with her? You did make yourselves drinking mates.”

The table erupts with laughter and you feel your abs hurting from the acknowledgement; Aizawa remains steady next to you silently, as if he was stone sober despite the tinge of red on his face.

Keigo leans forward and finishes his beer before grabbing the King’s Cup and pouring half of it into his empty glass and handing you the initial cup.

“Well then,” he lifts his glass and leans on the table; you mirror his action, “Cheers.”

********

You wish you could kill the sun.

The blinds of your apartment window open just enough to let sunlight pour into your room and blind your eyes despite them being shut. With a long groan you thrash in your bed, pulling a pillow to your face, then the comforter, before giving up and rolling onto your stomach.

There’s a pounding in your head and a constant feeling of bile in your throat that stirs nausea in your stomach. It’s when you finally find a comfortable position that your phone alarm rings loudly and vibrates on the nightstand next to you.

Can’t the world just fuck off.

It’s impossible to ignore and on the third repeat of the alarm pattern you finally sit up and cancel the notification. You would lay back down if the wave of nausea didn’t immediately bring a familiar acid taste to your mouth and you sprint out of bed into the ensuite bathroom.

You cough and hover over the toilet, letting any residual undigested alcohol out, slightly feeling better when you stand up to flush. After rinsing your mouth with water you sigh at the slight relief of pain in your gut but wince at the ongoing hum inside your skull.

Stepping out of the bathroom’s second door and into the living room you weakly stumble across the cold wooden floors, only now noticing your pajamas of a t-shirt on backwards and university branded sweatpants.

A low hum reverberates and you nearly jump out of your skin before leaving over the back of the couch and staring at a very tired and very hungover Keigo.

“Ugh.. morning”

His voice is so hoarse and dry that he winces as he speaks and resolves to turning over and trying to go back to bed.

You blink wearily and pad over to the kitchen to prepare two glasses of water and a bottle of painkillers. Before you hand Keigo his glass you chug half of your own and lean against the armrest.

He graciously takes the water and you slip your phone out of your pocket while he drinks.

“Oh fuck, I have to be at the campus library soon.”

Keigo hums, letting water drip down his chin without caring and taking large gulps of air when he finally finishes. He takes his head in his hands and rubs his eyes so roughly you’re sure he’s seeing stars, “What.. what even happened last night?”

You raise your glass to your lips and pause, “I can’t remember,”

Keigo nods once before his eyes shoot up and meet yours in worry.

“Oh shit… I can’t remember”

The sentence is spoken like a question as your heart rate spikes and you begin to panic. The only other times your quirk hasn't worked is when you’re extremely shitfaced or when Aizawa happened to look at you while using his erasure.

“Oh fuck. What did we do last night?”

Keigo looks up at you and shrugs, unable to form any words, just as surprised as you are. You set your glass on the coffee table and open your phone, “Maybe I took a video or photos? Something to jog my memor-”

You pause and swipe away a text notification before double taking at the sender.

From: Aizawa Shouta

        How are you feeling?

Keigo leans up with a grimace and looks at your phone screen, not understanding until he looks between the device and your face three times back and forth.

“Hey I thought you said you didn’t have his number…?”

You can’t even lift your eyes from the message, “I…didn’t…”

What the FUCK happened last night

[ameenvie]

Treacherous, Pt. 1 - Jim Halpert x fem!reader

masterlist | ao3 | fic recs

“Out of focus, eye to eye, 'Til the gravity's too much”

Part II

Word count: 2.7k Warnings: nothing in this chapter, nsfw in part 2! Tags: idiots in love, banter, messing around, pining Prompt/Summary: You started working at Dunder Mifflin around 6 months ago, and since then you developed a massive crush on one of your colleagues - Jim Halpert. Things happen. A/N: Will I ever stop titling my fics after songs? NEVER! I have had this in my WIPs for~ f o r e v e r ~ because chapter 2 is still not finished and I wanted to publish them together, but oh well! Maybe posting this will push me to finish that and get back into writing a bit. I have so many Jamie & Viktor WIPs as well, hopefully soon I'll finish those as well, I haven't written anything properly in a year I think so I am a bit rusty. Hope you like it! ❤❤

Your mood matched the Scranton weather in the past few weeks – gloomy. It was raining in the morning when you pulled into the parking lot before you started the day. You shut the engine down and sighed as you looked at the building.

You have been working for Dunder Mifflin for around six months now, since you moved here. Adjusting to the new city, new job and new coworkers wasn’t easy. Especially the new coworkers. As you were walking towards the entrance you accidentally stepped into a puddle which was deeper than it looked, and that caused your shoes to be soaking wet.

"Great, another fantastic day ahead,” you thought, before heading towards the building. When you stepped inside the office, you said hi to the new receptionist and you quickly walked towards the annex where your desk was located. A few people were already in, sitting at their desks – Dwight, of course always the first one to arrive, Meredith and Angela. And Jim.

“Hey you, good morning!” Hearing his voice made you freeze in your tracks, and you turned around to face him. Even if everything else in Scranton was rainy and gloomy, he was sunshine. He leaned back in his chair while he fiddled with a pen, his smile so bright it could light up a whole town. You felt a strange feeling in your chest.

“Hey, good morning.” You replied shortly and absent-mindedly, being lost in your thoughts.

“Are you alright? You seem preoccupied.” His tone switched to a bit more serious one, you could tell he really cared. He was sweet and you two had nice chats from time to time, but you couldn’t really consider what you two had a friendship. He was a nice colleague.

“Oh yeah, I just need to get these shoes dried up asap” you replied, looking down at your soaked feet. “Good thing I keep my granny slippers under my desk.” Jim chuckled as a response.

“You shouldn’t keep your things next to the electricity plugs. Especially polyester slippers, they are a fire hazard.” You heard Dwight say to you without even looking away from his computer screen, clearly fed up with the little small talk you and Jim had going on. You smiled and nodded at Jim as a signal that you’ll be on your way.

“Good luck,” he said, then turned back to his own work as well.

You plopped down into your chair and kicked off your soaked shoes. Luckily there was nobody in the annex yet, as the others usually arrived later than you. You put on your warm slippers and placed the shoes next to the heater. A heavy sigh escaped your lungs as you leaned on your elbows and buried your face into your palms. The strange feeling in your chest started to ease as you focused your mind back on work instead of your coworker.

As the time passed your other colleagues started to arrive and occupy their desks, as chatter filled the air, distracting you from your duties. You decided it was time to get another cup of coffee before you continued. It didn’t take long for Ryan and Kelly to get on your nerves with their constant fighting, but at least you didn’t have to pay for cable if you wanted to watch some crappy daytime drama.

You stepped into the small kitchen smiling about your own little joke when you noticed him. He also smiled when he looked at you.

“Someone’s in a good mood” he said, gesturing towards you with his own coffee mug in his hand.

“I’m just good at entertaining myself it seems.” You stepped closer to him to get a mug out from the cupboard, which was right next to him. He didn’t move when you opened it and stretched your arm to get your favourite mug from the shelf, the move making your shirt untucked and the skin at your hips exposed a little.

“I would say you are pretty entertaining in general. I’m glad you are feeling better.” You poured yourself a cup of coffee while he was slowly drinking his own. He didn’t seem like he was in a rush.

“You can say that, yes” you replied, your voice getting a little shaky at the end of the sentence when you felt the strange feeling in your chest again. A tingling sensation, starting in your chest then spreading through your veins when he stood so close next to you. “I’m a bit nervous about the quarter deadlines.”

“You are?” he asked with surprise in his voice.

“Of course, I still haven’t reached my targets in sales, and I need to by the end of the week. I also have lots of administration that I still need to do, and I’m just not good at this…” Your words came out of your mouth very quickly, and you felt yourself starting to ramble so to avoid that you quickly took a sip out of your coffee. It tasted horrible.

“Hey” he said in the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard as he put his hand on your forearm. It felt like your brain glitched for a second when his skin touched yours, and even though it was an innocent gesture, you felt the tingling sensation turn into straight up fire in your veins. Your heart started to beat rapidly in your chest, and you weren’t sure that he didn’t notice that. “You’ll do amazing, I know. And if you need anything from me, don’t be afraid to ask. I’d be happy to help.”

“Thank you” you said, your voice just a little lower than you wanted it to be. You scratched your throat before you spoke again. “I better get back to work. Complaining here won’t sell that paper.” He chuckled in response, and you took your mug to your table and sat down. You rubbed your eyes and sighed before looking up at your screen. It took you a few minutes to calm your nerves, then you delved back to work.

Probably fifteen minutes after you’ve sat down and the next distraction already arrived. Kelly.

“Soooo…” she started her sentence, sitting on the chair next to you, her eyebrows raised.

“So what?” You asked with genuine curiosity, as you had no idea what she wanted. Have you not sent your customer evaluations yet?

“What is going on with you?”

“With me? Um… nothing?” You cocked your brow at her while searching her face.

“Stop acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about!” She was basically whisper-shouting at you. And you genuinely had no idea what she meant.

“I’m sorry Kelly, I really have a lot of work that I have to finish, so if you don’t mind-” you started, but she interrupted you.

“Are you and Jim together?” The sudden question surprised you so much that you choked on your own spit. “Don’t be so dramatic, I see through you.”

“Why would you even think that? No, we are not together!” You looked around yourself before speaking, and lowering your voice to make sure no one else could hear what you were discussing. Kelly was not so discreet.

“Don’t play dumb on me, I saw you two in the kitchen earlier having a little moment!”

“A moment? No, no we were just talking about work” you replied and shook your head at her.

“With his hands on your arm? Yeah right” she scoffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Don’t be silly, that’s just a thing he does. He does that all the time.”

“Yeah, with you!” She snapped back and gave you a knowing look. You furrowed your eyebrows at her in confusion. “He never touched my arm. Or Meredith’s. Or anyone’s other than you.”

“You’re making this up.”

“Why would I?” She scoffed, but you gave her a knowing look and she rolled her eyes. “Okay of course I would, but not this time! I’m just saying you can’t fool me!”

“Yeah, you’re onto me Kelly. Now please, I need to get a lot of work done if I don’t want to get fired. How would I continue my top-secret office romance then?” You asked sarcastically and waved with your hands.

“Okay-okay, no need to be mean about it!” She stood up from the chair and waltzed back to her desk, where she could delve into her own office romance.

What she said didn’t leave your mind though. Was that true? You wouldn’t put it past her to stir up some gossip and drama just for entertainment. But would she really lie to you like that? What would she gain from it? And if she didn’t lie, what did that mean? Somehow you couldn’t decide if you’d prefer her lying or telling the truth.

Even if you were the only one Jim touched like that, that didn’t mean anything. It’s not like you wanted him to touch you like that. At least it was easier to convince yourself of that. This whole thing didn’t make any sense. You came to the conclusion that Kelly was just trying to get a reaction out of you with her story and there’s nothing more to it.

You delved back into work to try to keep your mind off this, you had enough stuff to worry about already. You spent the first half of the afternoon calling clients and trying to get new deals from the old leads you got from your predecessor – lots of them were completely useless. Suddenly you saw the others stand up and head towards the door.

“Aren’t you coming?” You heard Kelly’s voice. “Michael expects everyone in the meeting room.”

“Sure, I’ll be there in a second!” You quickly turned back to your computer and typed in a few things about your last deal before you forgot, then headed after the others. When you looked inside the room you saw most people already in there, Jim included. He waved at you from the last row and gestured at the empty seat next to himself. Your heart fluttered and you made your way over to him.

“Thanks, best seat in the house” you said, smiling.

“Absolutely. maybe this way we can get away without getting into a super awkward Michael Scott skit” he said while he crossed his arms and shot you a mischievous smile.

“Maybe we’ll be safe from that today, who knows. Have faith, Halpert!”

“I think you might be too optimistic on this one! How about a bet?”

“What kind of bet?” You raised your eyebrows at him.

“I bet that we won’t get away without an awkward Michael situation.”

“I feel like this is a very risky bet on my part, but oh well. What does the winner get?”

“The loser pays for the others lunch tomorrow.” He answered, smiling.

“Deal” you said and shook his hand. In that second Michael appeared in the meeting room and started talking about the quarter ending soon, and sales. The importance of the relationship with the clients.

Jim was leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, swinging his legs slightly. Ever so slightly that his thigh would touch yours every time he did it. Your heart was beating so loud it was all you could hear. This is stupid. Jim’s chuckle snapped you out of your thoughts.

“So, what do you say? How about a little improv? Who wants to sell me some paper?” Michael asked, and of course nobody answered. Everyone was either rolling their eyes or tried to look the other way so they don’t get picked. You tried to make yourself as small as you could so he wouldn’t pick you.

That’s when you felt the touch of a warm hand on your wrist, and it immediately flew to the air. You shot a horrified look at Jim, who was raising your hand for you.

“Ah, perfect, perfect!” You heard the voice coming from the front of the room, and you mouthed an “I’ll kill you!” at Jim. He just chuckled at you.

“You’ll do great!” He whispered and let go of your hand. You were so baffled you couldn’t even answer or object to being selected. Of course, let’s mess with the new staff. That’s fine.

You walked and stood next to Michael who was giggling like a little kid, being very excited about his improv exercise. As every improv with him, this ended up having a secret agent scene involved, where he would save you from an unknown threat, and that’s why he was disguised as a customer wanting to buy paper. You actually couldn’t be mad at him, because his joy was contagious. However, you were kind of mad at Jim.

You plopped down onto your seat next to him, crossing your arms, not looking his way. He scooched closer to you, his thigh now completely pressed against yours. His touch and closeness made you dizzy. Then he leaned towards you, but you didn’t turn towards him.

“I won” he whispered into your ear, and you felt a chill run down your spine as his breath warmed your skin. You felt heat rise in your body, and you started to feel lightheaded from him being so close to you. You immediately turned your head towards him. He was grinning like a child.

“No, you cheated!”

“Did I? I don’t know about that.”

“Yes, you did. I thought more of you, Halpert. Just text me what you want to eat tomorrow” you said and got up as the meeting ended, and you bolted towards the restroom, locking yourself in a stall.

You let out a shaky breath and you buried your face into your hands. This is nothing. It’s nothing. Damn it, Kelly. Why did she have to say those things? You felt like a schoolgirl with your silly little crush on your coworker, but all these things didn’t leave your mind. But even if it was true, even if Jim liked you, what then? Would you start dating? Would you just continue this office flirting forever? Would you just eventually fuck after an office party and completely forget it the next day?

That thought poisoned your mind with images that you didn’t want to think about, especially not in your workplace’s bathroom. But you couldn’t help it, and you felt the heat rise in your body again.

“Fucking hell” you breathed, shaking your head as if you could just shake those thoughts out. You stood up and left the restroom, heading straight back to your desk, not looking anywhere. You didn’t want to talk to anyone, you just wanted to finish working, go home, where you could work these frustrations out in peace. Yes, that seemed like a good plan. Somewhat good.

The time went by excruciatingly slowly. And it didn’t help that you couldn’t focus on your work because your head was full of thoughts about him. And you couldn’t shake them off. You had to finish your report by tomorrow morning at the latest, so your plan of quickly finishing the job and going home failed spectacularly. People had already started to leave the office as their day ended.

You were somewhat happy that you could work without Kelly and Ryan bothering you all the time, but you definitely were not happy about the thought of you having to be there for who knows how long. You hated overtime, but you couldn’t afford not to finish these reports. You rubbed your eyes and looked back at the screen of your monitor, at the names, addresses, numbers. It all felt so meaningless.

After about an hour of numbers, formulas and spreadsheets, you were done with the first half. You definitely needed to stretch your legs, so you decided to quickly print this before finishing the rest. You stood up from your chair, stretched your back a little and walked to your printer. You felt like the universe was taunting you when you saw the big “ERROR” message on the screen. You threw your head back and let out a dramatic groan before you made your way to the printer in the front of the office.

And then you felt like the universe was playing some kind of a joke on you when you saw Jim sitting at his desk.

Read Part II here.

[rcvcgers]

Duty's Cruel Embrace, 3

Chapter Three: Past and Present

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18+ MINORS DNI

pairing ; prince!xavier x princess!reader

synopsis ; you and xavier journey to the port of tartus where your first betrothed awaits you.

word count ; 14.6k words

author's note ; hi everyone! i am so sorry about the delay in updates! i am trying my best to work on these chapters asap!! i hope you enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!

trigger warning ; mentions of death, alcohol use, weapons, xav and reader make out and he gets just a little handsy, light sexism, talks of political marriage, let me know if i missed anything!

my ladies in waiting ♛ °˖✧ @velaenam , @schwnapps , @massivenutkid , @celestialforce , @exitingmusic , @zeskyzed , @eve-ishu , @underfcvcked , @duffyinwonderland , @hiqhkey , @dooopiee , @awkward-stierle , @justpassingdontworry , @queenkymmie , @miffysoo , @kazbrkker , @applepi405 , @flamedancer13 , @prplbunny , @loreleis-world , @animecrazy76 , @emo4r , @crazygirl3001 , @creator-freak , @spacenott , @luckypup0506 , @wltneko9006 , @wonys-won , @sh4do3 , @witchbybirth

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please go check out @velaenam 's story domina of the east! there are light spoilers for her story in this chapter <3

The crown prince of Philos remained close to you after you left the king’s tent. He remained far away, always behind you, never slipping into your line of sight. He had to convince himself that you were not looking for him, that you were on your own mission in life, one that does not revolve around him. He detests the idea of you being loyal to another cause, one that does not belong to him.

You are to be his wife, are you not? You will be the woman he shares the throne with, the woman who will bear his children and provide heirs for his future and legacy. He should be allowed to claim you as his own. As his one and only.

You were now away from your kingdom, a day’s ride to be exact, and soon the two of you will be on a boat heading across the Mediterranean Sea back to his kingdom of Philos. He knows that in time, you will grow to love Philos as much as he does. All he can sit and wish is that the two of you fall into something like love, a way for you to live in harmony for the rest of your lives.

Will it be love? Or will it simply be a partnership that you two barely tolerate?

He knows, though, that you will not be won in war. Your game of cat and mouse, the constant push and pull, the game that has brought him so much more excitement than he could have ever imagined. It is the reason why he is drawn to you. It is the reason why Xavier hasn’t been able to keep you away from him while on your journey to the port of Tartus.

He watches you from afar. Just like how he keeps his distance from you, you keep your distance from the other men at camp, the disgusting soldiers who laugh and tell the tales from their skirmishes and battles in Nabira. He sees the look of disgust on your face. Your expression slightly twists into something fatal, devastating, mourning the loss of the soldiers from your kingdom. You even wince at a few of their motions, the way they describe slicing the necks of the men that they have encountered in the battlefield.

Whenever you pass by, too, the soldiers either remain silent and bow their heads with respect, or they throw taunts your way, calling you pet names as if you now belong to them.

But you belong to him. Xavier knows it…even you know it.

Xavier remains by your tent throughout the night. He had his squire bring him one of the wooden chairs from his father’s tent and he placed it beside the entrance to your tent. Men walked by, their drunken laughs being silenced from Xavier’s scowl. The tip of his blade remained beneath the earth, his hand remaining on the hilt. Soldiers partied in the distance while Xavier listened to the rustling of the thin blanket he provided for you — the one he brought from his bed chambers in Philos — and waited for the night to come to an end.

The bright blue moon was his only light in the night as the majority of torches were snuffed out. He looks up at the Heavenly body, focusing on the imperfections that shine brightly on its surface. Xavier wonders if you like the moon as much as he does. He loves watching the Heavenly bodies in the night sky, looking upon them as they twinkle from the depths of the darkness.

The prince wonders what lies beyond the sky. Are there other worlds like his own? Are the men on that distant and far planet forced into unnecessary wars that their fathers wish to wage? Do the men there get to freely choose their wives or are they forced to marry vipers in disguise from a kingdom across the known world?

A sigh leaves his lips. Xavier looks away from the sky and shakes his head, turning his attention towards the ground. There are shadows from the scattered patches as grass of the campsite. There is a mixture of sand and dirt and grass, the combination of two different kinds of ecosystems merging together.

A sense of longing and worry overwhelms his mind. Xavier closes his eyes and rolls his head back, cracking his tensed up joints and bones as a quiet groan escapes his lips. He knows that his journey and time in Nabira is coming to a close. He will finally be back in Philos, a place he knows like the back of his hand. He has dreamed of his kingdom almost every single night since he has reached the desert, sailing away from the green scenery into the abyss of the desert.

Back in Philos, Xavier remembers the endless rolling hills of green grass, the steady streams and rivers that run through his kingdom. He remembers each and every crevice and rock of the mountainside where the Philos castle sits. He remembers the dark gray stone bride that attaches the base of the mountain to the rest of the village. Xavier misses the sound of the roaring river that runs beneath the bridge, the perpetually cold water spraying over the edges when the winds are strong.

Nabira is a completely different environment than what he is used to. Getting used to the desert was harder than he imagined, his right hand man back in Philos, Jeremiah, telling him what he should prepare for. He thought that the hot temperature was comparable to the hottest summer day in Philos but after experiencing the coolest day in Nabira, he knows that he is not meant for this type of climate. He supposes that he misses the green scenery. He is tired of the constant tans and browns, the only green coming from fabrics and the scattered patches of shrubbery that lay somewhat near oases.

He thought that he would find his inevitable demise in Nabira because who can truly survive a war as destructive and brutal as his father’s campaign for Nabira. Who can survive in the endless stretches of desert with little to no water to live off of, his body aching and his skin turning rough and red under the blazing sun. Even the metal of his armor has made him feel so suffocated while traveling through the sand dunes. Perhaps his inevitable demise did not come in the form of death but rather in the form of a beautiful woman behind a black and gold veil, the woman who has infiltrated his every waking and unconscious thought ever since he met her.

You…you have proven to be an intoxicating potion that has been slipped into his drink, a spell that is your name that has taken control over his mind.

Xavier opens his eyes to the sun already above the horizon. His light blue blanket is draped over his body, the hand on his sword covered. A quiet groan vibrates his throat. He slowly sits up, back tense. Xavier’s blue eyes scan the immediate area, the morning sun warm against his skin. You slowly approach from afar, a silver cup in hand along with a plate with bread, nuts, and dried meat. Xavier hides the small smile that begins to form on his face, covering it up by clearing his throat and sitting up in his chair.

“I can ride the horse for us today,” you say to him, skipping the greeting. It amuses Xavier. “Here,” you mutter under your breath, “eat. Drink. Your father wishes for us to embark from this place as soon as possible. He thinks we can reach Tartus by sunset if we move fast enough.”

Xavier takes the plate and chalice from you, your fingers grazing against each other. You ignore the way the corner of his lips perk up, the way his cloth shirt exposes the top part of his chest. You clear your throat and tear your gaze away, looking at the soldiers who tear down the campsite. They scurry around as their king watches. The silver crown on his head reflects sharp flashes of light whenever he turns, the man’s squire and his noble attendant by his side as he quietly speaks his demands.

“When did you wake, princess?” Xavier asks.

You struggle to respond. Your gaze meets his and all of the words slip out of your mind. You have memorized and learned Xavier’s mother tongue when the Philos troops were first seen on the outskirts of Nabira’s borders. Countless books and endless nights studying their words, the way they speak. The teachers in Nabira helped you become fluent but sometimes the words slipped free from your mind, leaving you with a mouth and brain filled with an empty void.

Xavier tilts his head at you, perking up an eyebrow. He slowly chews the hardened bread, narrowing his blue eyes at you. He slowly stands. The light blue blanket slips off of his body, hanging over the top of his sword. Xavier places the chalice and plate down, turning his attention back to you.

“Take your time,” he whispers, “or, you can say it in thy own tongue.”

“I woke at dawn. The dogs’ barks woke me,” you speak with no hesitation.

Xavier picks up on your words. His year in Nabria allowed him to learn some of your language, not all of it because he has always been stubborn and, quite frankly, did not think that he would get a Nabiran wife out of the crusade. He watches you closely as you gesture to the pack of nearby dogs, their snouts red from blood from that morning’s hunt.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you continue, finally turning back to wake him. Xavier’s. Your expression softens at the sight of his tousled hair, the way the silver strands poke out in every direction. You wave him down, which he immediately obeys, and you gently flatten the hair back against his head. “You looked so peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” Xavier quietly repeats the word in your tongue. You freeze and pull away from him, eyes slightly widened. Does he know your language? Has he learned during his time in Nabira just like you have with his? “What does that mean?”

“Peaceful,” you state after a moment’s hesitation, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Peaceful…” he whispers with a slight nod. “I will ride for us today. Be ready soon. A solider will handle your tent for you.”

“Xavier,” you watch as he drapes the light blue blanket around your shoulders. With one hand, he picks up the plate and chalice, balancing the silver cup on the plate, his sword now resting in his free hand. He steps around you. You watch him as he leaves, disappearing into the chaos of the Philos camp.

You sigh. You hang your head low as you stare at the ground. The leather bag your father gave you sits beside his wooden chair. The chair looks so uncomfortable…why would he spend the night like that? Did he truly wish for you to see this act of service as one that shows you can trust him? Or is it a false sense of security that he will use against you in the near future?

Confusion infiltrates your mind. You allow yourself to gather your belongings, plucking the golden bow from the inside of your tent. It sits around your bodice, the golden point sticking up into the sky, the quiver of arrows attached around your hips. The black crow feathers absorb the heat of the day. You feel them between the pads of your fingers, fiddling with them. They help keep you company as you walk through the camp, looking around for the man you are forced to be allies with.

Whether you like it or not, you know that Prince Xavier is your only saving grace on the journey to Philos. Even then, once you reach his kingdom, he is still your only ally in the political world that is much different from Nabira.

You cannot help but question if Xavier will be there by your side like he vowed to do. You do not know if he will remain loyal to you and the aid you require. Your mind wanders across the many possibilities that you will encounter in the new world.

Does Xavier have a mistress? Is there another woman in his life that you will have to learn to tolerate during your political and arranged marriage? You do not know what waits for you in the near future. It feels as if you are willingly walking into a lion’s den.

You can try your best to hide behind the furs they will gift to you. You can try to hide behind the crown of thorns that they will place onto your head. At the end of the day, though, it is you and you alone that is in charge of your life. You will have to fight for your spot in the Philos court, to fight to show the nobles that you earned your position as the future Queen of their kingdom. They will try to bring you down but you must persevere. 

“Princess,” Xavier’s voice sounds from behind. You do not turn, simply continuing to stare at the ancient ruins from your ancestor’s empire.

After it fell hundreds of years ago, the Roman Empire lost its influence. Their colonies and cities fought back against Roman control all while the title of emperor was being fought about in the heart of Rome. You read about it in the books your father gifted to you as a child. Your brother did not particularly enjoy reading about the fall of an empire, but you enjoyed seeing how Emperor Caleb’s laws and provisions remained in place when it came to Nabira. He ruled far before the empire fell. His descendants, your ancestors, kept his vow alive. It is admirable, really.

There are broken statues and pillars in the distance. Another outpost that was once under Roman control. Now Mother Nature runs it with vines reclaiming the white and cracked stone. Xavier’s armor and chainmail sounds from behind you. His white horse whinnies. The scraping of metal rubbing against itself used to irk you, send chills down your spine, but now it is a welcoming sound of the man you will call your husband.

“Is thou ready?” he asks.

“How long do you think that has been there for?” you ask and gesture to the crumbling pillars. Xavier takes his place at your side, his eyes fixed on the landmark. His horse remains tethered to its reins. 

“I do not know,” he quietly responds. “Centuries, probably.”

“Centuries,” you muse with a chuckle. Xavier looks down at you, confusion written across his face. “Is there a centuries old outpost in Philos?”

Xavier remains quiet. He studies the side of your face, taking in the slenderness of your cheeks, the hollowness behind your eyes. You’re tired, yes, and he can tell that you have not been able to stop thinking since you woke up that morning. He clears his throat and tugs on the leather reins.

The white horse trots around and settles in the space in front of you. Your eyes flicker to Xavier and he avoids your gaze, simply sliding the reins into your hands. He grabs your waist and you place your foot into the stirrup. In one motion, Xavier helps you onto the horse, your leg kicking over the horse. You remove your foot and scoot forward. Xavier takes your bag and attaches it to the side of the horse, placing it beside his. You quickly reach inside and pluck out the diary your father gifted you, placing it in the small space in front of you and the pommel of the saddle.

Xavier quickly mounts the horse and takes his place behind you, his armored hands rest on your thighs for the briefest of moments. You lean back into him, already accustomed to his presence behind you. He leans in, his lips close to your ear. His breath is hot against your skin. It sends chills down your spine.

“You’ve been thinking,” he murmurs. He takes back the reins from you and gently kicks the horse’s side. It lets out a huff and turns on its hooves, moving back towards the camp. “Thinking of the past and history…tell me what is on your mind, princess.”

You look straight ahead. The camp has been broken down while you were lost in your thoughts. The soldiers have resume their marching positions, already beginning the journey to the Tartus port. You assume that Xavier’s father is at the helm, guiding his men through the last of the desert. The two of you assume a position towards the back, the soldiers and guards a part of Xavier’s future Kingsguard taking their place behind you.

“Shall I take your silence as your answer?” he quietly hums.

You roll your eyes and angle your face to look behind you. His eyes meet yours, a hint of amusement in his blue irises. It irritates you to see just how much fun he is having with this. All of the positive feelings you felt towards him begin to slowly dissipate, his sudden cockiness grating your nerves.

“I think of the future,” you finally respond, turning your head back towards the front. Your drop your gaze to the diary in your hands, the horse’s trot just stable enough for you to read.

“I thought you were lost in the past,” Xavier chuckles. You suck in a breath, shoulders tensing. “Now thy worries over the future?”

“Yes, your Highness, ’tis what I said,” your voice is sharp.

You open the diary with a huff, frowning at the tan pages. You flip through the entires, knowing that your ancestor’s words are completely foreign to the man who sits behind you. You stop at one entry whose words catch your attention. You see the old Emperor’s name, Caleb, and stop flicking through the pages.

“Do you wish to be alone?” Xavier quietly asks. He slightly leans forward and stares at the pages. The script is a mystery to him. He may be able to comprehend a few spoken words, but to read it? It is an entirely different story. Your silence is answer enough for him to nod to himself, tearing his gaze away from the diary and to focus on the environment around you.

You silently struggle with your feelings for the crown prince. He has been nothing but kind to you — besides your confrontation when your fathers’ decided on a marriage between the two of you — and he has been patient with your blunt questions. He even sat in front of your tent to make for sure that you were safe. His kind gestures make your heart flutter but your mind combats every single instinct that kicks in.

You do not know if you can trust him. You do not know if he is someone worth your love and attention or if he will have it in himself to return the positive afflictions. Will it even be possible for your heart to come to love a man like him? You know that you can tolerate him, that you will find a rhythm that the two of you can fall into if love does not blossom or come into fruition. There is just that hint of hesitation, though, the single insecure thought that lingers in your mind.

You are a woman. He is a man. He is able to get away with so much more than you ever will. He will be allowed to keep mistresses if he so desires and you will remain alone in your separate bedchambers with nothing but a book and the candlelight to keep you company. He is allowed to lose control, to show his anger while you must remain quiet and obedient, subservient to him and him alone.

Unfortunately, you live in a world dominated by men. For your entire life, you were surrounded by powerful men — even your brother as a boy employed more power than you — who could control the outcome of the Nabiran kingdom with a snap of their fingers. Oftentimes, your father’s male advisors would shut you out of political meetings. Whenever the Lemurians, or other diplomatic kingdoms, came to visit, you were told to entertain the women and girls who were brought along while the men drank wine from behind closed doors.

Always forced to watch, never allowed to participate.

The day has been long and hard. You sat in silence, only speaking in short whenever Xavier asks you a question or if you need anything. The sun begins to make its descent back towards the horizon and you can’t help but feel relieved. With the sight of trees and greenery now coming into view, you know that the port of Tartus is near. The sand dunes have turned into grasslands, the yellow and green grass replacing the golds and browns of the sand.

“Princess,” Xavier’s voice draws you out of your thoughts. You hum in response, eyes remaining closed as the horse continues on its way. “Why did thou remain silent before?”

“My mother taught me that if one does not have a kind thing to say, to not say it at all,” you play coy and dance around the meaning of your silence.

Xavier simply chuckles in response, shaking his head. He enjoys this game with you, whether you are aware of it or not. He rests his hand on his thigh, looking away and at the setting sun.

The Philos army travels across the bluffs of the new village. It is governed by Nabira but most of its soldiers come from Lemuria, an old alliance that formed between the kingdoms centuries ago. Two halves that operate in peace and harmony. Xavier looks away, thinking that it will take about an hour to reach the port. He feels your body relax against him once he notices you finally catch wind of the sight.

“Is there someone thou wishes to see there?” there is slight hint of jealousy to his voice and in the way his body slightly tenses up.

Xavier knows that you were originally betrothed to the Lemurian prince, a man by the name of Rafayel. He has only met the prince a handful of times and their interactions were short and brief. He has the most unusual appearance, his hair a vibrant purple color and his irises holding more than one color. Rafayel is extremely extroverted, the complete opposite of the prince himself. Xavier prefers to engage with parties from the outside whereas Rafayel loves to be in the middle of it all.

He does not wish to speak ill of your previous betrothed, simply following your mother’s advice that you bestowed upon him.

“And if there is?” a small smirk flashes across your face.

You hide it as you turn to face him, his hand finding itself on your side as you lean into it, getting the best look possible. His brows are slightly knitted, his jaw clenched. His eyes have lost all of their wonder and dare you say it — sparkle — that he once held towards you. There is a darkness behind his eyes and yet all you can feel amusement towards his sudden possessiveness towards you because, well…what else could it be?

“Will thou play the role of my knight in shining armor?” you lower your voice.

Xavier’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down. His grip on the leather reins tightens. His heart pounds on the inside of his chest. He unconsciously moves towards you, leaning in as his breathing grows heavier.

You truly are a viper, aren’t you?

You let out a quiet sigh. Leaning forward, you pluck the veil from your bag, placing it over your head and the diary. Xavier may not be able to understand the written form of your language, but you wish to have some kind of privacy from the outside world as you travel the last length of distance. The diary opens up with a soft crinkle sound, your finger acting as a bookmark. Sunlight breaks through the sheer veil but protects your eyes from the star, the veil providing slight shade for you.

In the quiet of my chambers, the oil lamps flicker low… The weight of my crown feels most distant. I confess to these pages that I dare not speak aloud.

Caleb. My emperor.

Your ancestor’s silent plight calls to you. You see her words, feeling as they resonate throughout your body. The ink looks shaky as if her hands were trembling as she wrote these words. She has gone through the same conflict you feel inside of your heart and mind. Forced to be wed to a stranger, a man who holds power.

Yours is a mere prince, the weight of a newer yet large kingdom resting on your shoulders. Your ancestor, though? She married an emperor who ruled an empire that stretched from one side of the world to the other.

And yet your internal struggles remain as one, the same trouble of having to share the sheets with a man who is so foreign to you. Does she share the same worries of a mistress? Does she also feel the inexplicable urge to cross the distance, no matter how big or small it may be, and to unite with him as one?

Betrayal coated over a toad. But for some reason I find myself wanting to kiss him.

He stands atop marble steps now gilded in cracks and anger. But I can't help my feelings for him. Even when duty made a stranger of him.

Yet in the stillness that followed…Gideon emerged.

A quiet laugh leaves your lips before you can stop it. You continue to read through the passage, unable to contain the small gasps that leave your body from the revelations that she has confessed to the pages of the diary. The heat from the irony of the situation making the sun even more unbearable. You feel the warmth of Xavier’s armor push into your back. From the corner of your eye, you watch as he reaches to the side of you, picking up the corner of the veil before slowly lifting it up.

“Yes, Xavier?” you ask with a quiet voice, closing the diary. “Is there something thou wishes to say?”

“What…amuses you?” Xavier asks in a quiet voice. “Thine’s smile disappeared when she saw me…how may I see it again?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. Your gaze flickers to the sliver between his head and the fabric, the blue sky growing darker. Xavier simply leans to the side and effortlessly catches your gaze once again.

“Answer me,” his command is harsh while his tone reeks of slight desperation.

Perhaps you made your judgment on him too quick. Maybe Xavier truly does wish to make an effort to be your husband. Your future with him will now be one that is easy and complimentary, yes? You will both make an effort for things to be good. Maybe love will come out of it in due time.

“Are you asking me that as the future king or as Xavier?” you quietly ask. Xavier’s face flinches. Your eyes drop to his lips before moving back to his eyes.

He does not reply. You slightly tilt your head to the side, the sunset flashing into your eyes, illuminating your irises. Xavier’s breath hitches and he suddenly believes in his country’s religion again. He blinks at you, too flustered to focus. 

Suddenly, the sound of men’s snickering and cheers captures your attention. You draw away from Xavier, your posture straightening. You turn to the front, staring through the veil, noticing that the soldiers stare at the two of you. Embarrassment floods your body, your cheeks heating up. Xavier slips out of the veil, his sharp glare silencing the soldiers.

“Turn around,” Xavier commands them with such ease it sends chills down your spine.

He slows your horse, the soldiers passing by on their own animals or jogging around you. Xavier watches them as they go, your horse coming to a full stop. His hands slip under the fabric that pools at your hips, his gloved hand resting on your stomach, pulling you closer to him. You cannot move. You’re frozen as time and the soldiers pass you by, only able to fully breathe again once the sound of their horse’s and footsteps fade into nothing.

Xavier removes the veil from your body, holding it away from you as you try to snatch it back from him. The horse whinnies. You glare at him, turning back around to the front, watching as the soldiers march into the distance. Xavier’s grip on you tightens. The raised metal of his coat of arms pokes into your skin, leaving you breathless. He leans down, the tip of his nose grazing against the shell of your ear with closed eyes.

“Do you wish me to be?” Xavier whispers into your ear.

“Wish thou to be what?”

“To be yours, your knight in shining armor,” Xavier is breathless, his cheeks bright in color. You close your eyes, unable to think of an immediate response.

Is it not early to show such affections? Is Xavier showing his cards too easy? It feels like a trap. A sudden sweetness to win your favor before his alliance with Nabira can be severed when your Lemurian friend comes into the portrait. There is no way that he could possibly feel jealousy towards an old suitor. You were never going to leave Xavier even if you tried. You need Philos’ alliance for your father’s sake. You are unequivocally his despite your distaste towards the matter.

“Do what you want,” you breathe out, “it is no matter to me.”

“Truly you do not mean that,” he quickly follows up.

“Unburden yourself, Xavier,” his breath hitches at the sound of his name, “and take us to the port.”

Xavier follows your command. He kicks the horse into motion, tightly holding the reins to keep the horse in check. The horse shifts into a gallop, crossing the distance with ease and flipping up through the pack. The people part for his highness and you remain resigned in front of him, focusing your eyes on the port that lies ahead.

You wish that your childhood friend, a boy you haven’t seen in little over three years since the crusades were first brought to Nabira’s attention, is there to see you to your new home. Rafayel was the one who sailed the seas and rode on a horse with his father as soon as they saw Philos’ army. They did not hesitate to offer help, help which your father declined, and you had to say goodbye to the man you originally were ready to marry.

It will be nice to see him. You can silently plead for aid and protection with the Lemurian ladies in the Philos court — if they have any, that is. He is sure to help you. Maybe he will find himself at your wedding to the infamous Lumière, a man who was sure to have killed both Nabirans and Lemurians in battle. Xavier was a common enemy before he turned into your betrothed. Does that change things with your Lemurian prince now?

 After an hour, the Philos army reaches the lively port. The army stays on the outskirts of the port city while you, Xavier, the King, and a smaller portion of the army make your way through the decorated scene. You know that today is a Lemurian holiday, one where they take the night off and dance the night away. They are very free spirited people with art, music, and their navy being their priorities and greatest achievements. Even Rafayel is known to have a few masterpieces under his belt at his young age.

The smile returns to your face. Many of the Lemurian and Nabiran citizens bow their heads at you, stopping in their tracks to show their reverence for their domina. It was sure to be known by now that you are leaving for the rest of your life, that you will never return. Tonight will be as much about your release from the kingdom as much as it is their holiday.

Xavier keeps his eyes on you, watching as you gaze upon the Lemurian rich city with such wonder and awe. It is different from Philos’ much more mild mannered festivities. The city, even when it is an ocean away from their kingdom, is much more vibrant and colorful compared to Philos’ whites and grays color scheme. Much more lighter and monotone from the Lemurian’s bright blues and pinks and purples.

He knows that you will have much fun tonight. There is no reason for you to listen to him or keep you away from that friend of yours. He may accompany you, though, even if you disagree to it. He wants to see what his future bride likes to take part in. It is what every good husband should know, no? He should make for sure that man does not taint your honor or bring any stigmas onto yourself for the Philos court to hear about before your arrival.

It is the least he can do as your future husband.

The horses arrive at the Lemurian’s biggest ship, the Abysswalker, a ship that Rafayel is known to command, just as the sailors disembark from the wooden ship. As soon as Xavier’s horse comes to a slow, you swing your leg over the horse’s head and slide off of the animal, your feet colliding with the earth made dock that the Aysswalker is connected to.

“The domina has arrived,” Rafayel calls to his men as he walks down the wooden plank over the small gap between the ship and the dock, “make sure to behave.” A smile spreads across his face. Your eyes flicker to his hair, which is longer than you remember it being, the purple strands stopping right when they meet his shoulders.

“Is that a command for me or your men?” you smile at him, resting your hands on your hips just as he steps foot back onto land. He stops right in front of you and leans down, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I’d like to think it was one for you,” Rafayel’s smile is as bright as the rest of his face. He mimics your hands on the hips and rests back on one foot. “Did you get shorter?”

“One would think you are insufferable,” you retort back.

“Welcome to Tartus, my lady,” Rafayel takes a step forward, delicately taking your hand. He brings your knuckles to his mouth, his eyes meeting yours, and presses a sweet kiss to your hand like the true gentleman he is. You crack a smile at him, feeling even safer with him than you do with Xavier. Rafayel’s eyes flicker to Xavier, who has gotten off the horse and made himself at home in the space behind you. “Prince Xavier, we have been expecting thy’s arrival.”

“Is that so?” Xavier rests his hand on the hilt of his sword. You purse your lips in annoyance. “Will you be the one who escorts my queen and I to Philos?”

“Yes,” Rafayel’s posture stiffens at the mention of you being his so called queen. His eyes move to you, catching the annoyance that moves across your face. “My apologies if our banter has crossed a line with your…king.”

“I am not his queen yet,” you muse, feeling the tension begin to form between the three of you. You are simply weighing all of your options. You do not wish to marry a man who may be planning your death, making it look like the journey to Philos destroyed you. At least you know you are safe with the Lemurians around.

“Ah,” Rafayel nods his head, turning his attention back to Xavier, “allow me to show you to your quarters. Thou must have had a long day. Rest will do you well before we set sail.”

Xavier nods and steps around you, following the men that immediately move from behind Rafayel. The Philos soldiers set off, except for his father’s Kingsguard, for their own camp since they will be traveling back to Philos by foot. About three years journey across the land if Xavier’s father decides to not send any ships to pick them up and ease the distance. He hesitates when he notices that you and Rafayel do not move a muscle, your eyes never leaving each other’s.

“It’s been a long time,” you whisper to him over the sound of squawking birds, “you’ve grown into the role of Captain.”

“Admiral, actually,” Rafayel’s smile grows more smug by the second. You nod your head at him, keeping it coy and detached. “Do you wish to celebrate tonight, my lady? I remember you telling me that you would love to celebrate the holiday.”

“I would love to if you are the one who keeps me company,” perhaps you are a little too polite in your response. It is all in good faith and all at the expense of your soon to be husband. You like the way his face darkens when another man offers you his gaze, the way he grows jealous at even the slightest thought of you plotting against him or simply when you entertain someone who isn’t him.

“I shall join too, then,” Xavier steps back. His eyes move to yours then your lips. “I shall accompany you.”

“Three is considered to be a crowd,” Rafayel tries to interject.

“Who is to say that he may last through the night?” you challenge. Xavier’s nostrils flare. “My prince, perchance you have spare clothes for me to wear.”

“It can be arranged, princess,” your head snaps in his direction at the title. Rafayel smirks and steps away, walking towards the nearby building by the dock.

You let out an amused huff of air. Xavier steps in front of you. He tightly grips his sword, looking down at you with intense eyes. You attempt to step around him but Xavier blocks the path, his armored hand digging into your flesh. You let out a quiet gasp, feeling a stinging sensation as he yanks you towards him.

“Am I to be worried, princess?” Xavier asks, his voice low and dangerous.

“We speak of clothes,” you say.

“Do you think me a fool?” Xavier counters. You catch the sharpness in his tone. 

“You know I am to be yours,” you match his tone, “he means no harm.”

“He is mad.”

“Just as you are?” you lift your connected hands to his eye line.

Xavier immediately releases his grip. He takes a step back, the scrapes of his armor quiet, and diverts his gaze. You purse your lips and walk around him, following in the direction that Rafayel walked in.

The purple haired prince approaches a tall sandstone building. It is much taller than the rest of the seaside village, a landmark for those watching from afar but also a place for nobles and diplomats to stay. You have never been here but your brother has and he told you all about how lively the village is, the way the candles are never snuffed out, acting like golden stars in the night sky.

You pick up the extra fabric that pools near your feet as you walk. You slice through the crowd, the people dispersing as soon as they notice you, and watch as Rafayel waves his hands at the guards by the door. The wooden doors creak to life as you reach the top of the stairs. The prince offers you his arm and you immediately take it.

Xavier scoffs from behind, glaring at the sight of your connected bodies. A scowl overtakes his face as he steps through the doors, entering inside of the brightly lit noble-run home. Servants scurry past, holding sheets and plates of food, bowing their heads at Xavier as they pass. He approaches his father’s side, his eyes never leaving you and Rafayel as you laugh about some comment he makes. Xavier does not see the humor you do in the prince. Do you not know that he is known to be a rake? Xavier and his hand, Jeremiah, have watched as Rafayel passed himself around the ballroom, never taking the time to act like a proper human being.

“Do you know of the festivities, father?” Xavier has to pull his gaze away from you and Rafayel, turning to look at the king that stands beside him. “Will they be…worthwhile?”

“You should partake,” the king responds. He barely even looks at Xavier as he speaks with one of the captains in his army, “unwind. Get to know your wife. Be a prince.”

“Be a prince?” Xavier repeats the words with a slight scoff. “Am I not the man you molded me to be?”

“Tonight,” Xavier’s father sighs and dismisses his man. From over his son’s shoulder, he watches as you and Rafayel disappear up the stairs with a governess close behind, a role that you will soon grow used to once you reach Philos. “Drop thy sword and shed yourself of thine armor. Indulge yourself. Be ready to leave it behind as soon as the sun rises.”

“Yes, sir,” Xavier mutters to himself.

He bows his head to his father and turns away, one of the servants beckoning for him to follow to his temporary bed chambers. The prince allows himself to relax on the journey up through stairs, the metal armor on his body finally beginning to weigh him down. He reaches the top of the stairs. The sound of your laughter stops him in his path. He abandons the servant and walks down the hallway, the clicks of his metal boots echoing down the corridor.

You sit in a room with Rafayel, along with a handful of other nobles who reside in the seaside village, and hold a glass of wine in your hand, swirling around the dark liquid before bringing it up to your lips. The language has changed from the one from Philos to a picture between Nabiran and Lemurian. Neither you nor Rafayel could stick with just one. You watch Rafayel from over the rim of the gold chalice, his drunken friends lounged on the couch as they twiddle with the strings of a lute, the dull notes filling the calmed atmosphere.

“Tell me, domina,” Rafayel begins. He takes a sip from his chalice before lowering it to the table, crossing the distance, and placing himself in the open space beside you, “what do you think of life outside of Nabira’s castle walls?”

“Tis different,” you cooly respond. You place your goblet beside his. “I never thought I would have left so soon.”

“Right,” Rafayel leans down, his eyes fixated on yours, “one did not think your father would ever let you leave the palace. He barely let anyone in for that matter.”

“And yet here I am,” you muse, slightly narrowing your eyes at the purple haired man, “outside of the walls, about to set sail on your ship towards my new fate.”

“I knew I would have the honor of sailing with you,” the prince begins. He slowly leans in some more, your noses a dangerous distance from one another. He tilts his head to the side, taking in the floral scent of your perfume, the way you hold yourself strong against his sudden closeness. Rafayel lowers his voice, his eyes slightly darkening. “I always thought the destination would be Lemuria rather than...Philos.”

You hesitate to respond. You watch Rafayel carefully, observing the way his eyes are all over your face, taking you in from a short distance. He smells like the sea, the hint of salty water and his sweat, his musk, mixes in with the scent. His eyes are vibrant and yet you can see the overprotective nature of your friend begin to seep out.

When Rafayel and his aunt, the Princess Talia, visited Nabira when he was just a boy, he would refuse to let you leave his sight. The two of you would always sit next to each other during meals and he would make you show him all of your favorite places in the Nabiran palace. You showed him the statues of your ancestors, the painted images that you quietly prayed to. He watched as you shot your arrows and in turn you watched him as he fought your brother with wooden swords — although you remember him favoring a trident instead.

“Are you disappointed in the outcome, my prince?” you quietly ask.

“Do not call me that,” Rafayel whispers. “I know the game thou dost engage in.”

“Call thou what?” you play the role of an innocent damsel much to his dismay.

“My prince.”

“Why not?” you tilt your head to the side, eyes never leaving his. It feels as if you can barely breathe with him so close to you, the tension bubbling in the air. “It is thy’s title, is it not?”

“Yes but,” Rafayel sucks in a breath, his voice neither rising nor falling, “I am no longer yours.”

“Thou art my friend,” you whisper, “art thou not?”

“I should be glad that you are his vixen to deal with,” Rafayel pulls away. With the distance, you are able to breathe again. “You are his princess—”

“Domina,” you sharply correct him, your gaze narrowing, “I am not married to him yet.”

“You aren’t,” Rafayel shifts his weight to his back foot, watching you closely, “but thou will be soon enough.”

Your body runs cold. There is truth to his words, you know it to be true. Denial runs through your thoughts. You have accepted your fate and yet here you are, spiraling over someone else pointing out the less than ideal circumstances you find yourself in.

A small smile breaks Rafayel’s serious demeanor. He reaches for your chalice, taking it from its place, and brings it to his lips, sipping the dark red wine that sits inside the cup. You tear your gaze away from him, clearing your throat, and notice a silver figure move into the darkness of the hallway, the wooden door closing shut.

“That prince of yours is trouble,” the Lemurian says from behind you. You do not turn to look at him, simply wishing that you will see Xavier soon. “I do not trust him.”

“Is that so?” you hum, finally turning to look at Rafayel. He simply nods in response.

You look back to the door, pushing off of the table you stand beside, and walk towards it, pushing the wooden panel open. You take a step out. The corridor is much more dark than the inside of the parlor room. Lit candles hang from chandeliers, the wax spilling over the dark metal. The light is warm, a deep orange to cut through the darkness of the night, and you look at Rafayel from over your shoulder.

“Fetch me when you are ready to embark,” you offer him a small smile. Rafayel simply nods in response, turning away from you and to the nobles inside of the parlor.

You disappear down the corridor, following the sound of footsteps up the next flight of stairs. The figure escapes you as soon as you reach the top and you let out an annoyed huff of air. You take a glance around and let out a quiet sigh, walking down the stone hallway. The sounds of your sandals swiping against the floor fills in the silent hallway. You can hear the faint crashing of distant waves, the ocean restless as ever, while you navigate your way towards your bedchambers. As soon as the door comes into sight, you disappear behind it.

Your leather bag and bow sit on your bed, a welcome sight for sore eyes. You approach the bed and sit on the edge, a small frown forming on your face. Rafayel’s words of warning sit with you. They leave you no comfort nor do they make you feel secure in your silent alliance with him. Xavier has given you no signal that he wishes to betray you — quite the opposite, actually, with his sudden posessiveness over you — nor has there been any signs from his father that he wishes to make you a martyr to the people of Nabira.

The sudden competition between Xavier and Rafayel is nothing you could have ever expected for yourself. You always thought that the other men in your life would respect the choices made for you. You are forced to remain passive when it comes to your marital status while the men around you are actively dictating who you will fall asleep beside for the rest of your days. This is, unless your husband were to die. Then you would be forced off to wed yet another man in power whose only mission in life is to secure his throne and provide his kingdom with an heir.

The leather bound diary stares at you. It sits beside the leather bag, its gold accents and jewels beckoning you towards it. You reach out and grasp the small book, bringing it towards your chest. Perhaps your ancestor’s words will bring you some semblance of peace. The pages welcome you as soon as you open the diary, her handwriting already calming down your rapidly beating heart.

Caleb was the sun. Gideon is the moon.

How could she have had the same predicament as you? Feeling affection towards two men. Your familiarity with Rafayel, the bright spirited man whom you have held affection towards for so long.

Then there is Xavier. A man whom you have been forced to share horseback with, forever tied to his reins, unable to make an escape from his intense eyes and wandering hands. In the time you have spent together, little has been said. You originally thought that silence was the best way to show your rebellion towards him and the arranged marriage.

You move to the next passage of the diary entry.

He speaks little, but in his silence, I find refuge. I see the burden he carries. The way his eyes linger too long when he thinks I do not notice. The protection he offers in more ways than one.

Could you too find refuge in his silence? You know he watches you every chance he gets. You are sure that he will never be too far from you if he is to attend the Lemurian festivities tonight. He is sure to drown in the crowd, to fade into the background while you take center stage with your would have been husband, the man you always imagined standing beside instead of the fair headed man your father sold you off to.

Will this be a test for him to show his worth to you? A way to win your heart over in the political game of intrigue that you have found yourself in? He has been in it for his entire life, surely he knows how to win the heart of his chosen princess…your heart.

I should be ashamed, but I am only tired. Tired of pretending the ache in my chest is loyalty alone… If the gods hear me, let them judge gently. My heart is torn between crown comfort and love. Let this ink keep my secret.

You never believed in the gods. Sure, your mother held an expectation of religion upon you, but you knew the truth. You knew that the gods abandoned the earth a long time ago, around the fall of Rome, when magic and Evols have left world. They took all of the splendor with them. The magic that you wished so desperately to see.

Tales told during the fall of Rome have left the world wondering what happened to people who held magic. Did they die with the Emperor and his bloodline? Were they hunted for sport and killed in gladiator battles like martyrs? Or has the magic the world once held in its people slowly vanish throughout the years?

Your mother always liked to joke that you hold the same power like your ancestor, arguably one of the greatest Emperors that Rome has had, but more in the way of him being able to connect and unite his empire together. You have always had the charm of an angel and people naturally gravitated towards you. According to your mother, you also hold a special connection to the past, something that nobody has ever seen before.

You like to call it empathy but your mother thinks your ancestors have chosen you to be their voice.

You close the diary and let out a slow exhale. The pads of your fingers run along the cover, feeling the warm metal against your touch. It grounds you as your mind wanders away from itself. You stand from the bed and take a quick peek into a nearby trunk, pulling out a blue silk dress, one made in a Lemurian fashion. You hold the dress in your hands. It feels devastatingly heavy despite the thinness to it. Your thoughts turn into the future, what it holds for you. You have accepted the fact that you are stuck between two men.

Both of whom wish to see you by their side, whether they have said it aloud or not is neither here nor there. Both men wish to see you thrive but to thrive under their control, a queen that will serve them the best for them and their reign. You do not know if you should feel flattered by this revelation or if you should pack your things, steal a horse, and run back to the safety of the Nabiran border.

A knock at the door. Your posture straightens. You wipe away a tear that you did not know even fell. The door pushes open and you narrow your eyes in the darkness, seeing a pale head of hair enter your chambers. You quickly stand, hands folded in front of your stomach. Xavier is quick to close the door, making sure that it does not make too much noise to alert any of the guards who stand down the hall. He wears a white cotton shirt, the small strings of fabric remaining untied, exposing the top part of his muscular build. The sleeves are slightly puffy. One glance down shows that he wears leather pants and matching boots. He is a prime example of what a peasant in Philos would look like. Well, that is what the books you have read told you. He turns around, his eyes finally landing on yours.

He is silent. He slowly takes in your appearance, his sword remaining attached to his side. His blue eyes drop from your face and to your body. Suddenly you feel small under his gaze. You swallow the lump that forms in your throat, hands growing clammy. You fidget with your fingers as Xavier takes slow and calculated steps towards you. The air thins with every step. You tilt your head to look up at him, the silk gentle against your skin, moving with your body. You take a step backwards. The back of your knees hit the bed frame, the slightly splintered wood pushing into your flesh.

“You look…beautiful,” Xavier breathes out.

His hand moves towards your face, gently cupping your cheek. You do not move. His touch sends chills down your spine and your mouth goes dry. Xavier’s eyes drop from your face, the tips of his fingers grazing against your skin. You suck in a sharp breath. The tips of his fingers move from your cheek to the exposed skin on your shoulder. There is a strip of blue and white silk with a layer of sheer and pearls covering it. It hangs from your shoulder, acting like a loose sleeve. Xavier’s calloused finger hooks around the sleeve, giving it a gentle tug.

“Thou is silent again,” Xavier quietly remarks. 

“I have nothing to say,” you murmur. His eyes flit to yours. Your heart skips a beat, cheeks slowly heating. He leans in, trapping you against the bed

“Is it polite to not give thanks?” Xavier matches your volume. You try to look away but he tilts his head to meet your eyes once again. “Answer me.”

“Pray tell, why dost thou concern himself?” you whisper. The candle flickers in the background. You try to use it to steady yourself but Xavier’s proximity makes you feel uneasy.

“Thou is my wife,” Xavier murmurs. He reaches up and pushes the dark hair out of your face, his eyes focusing on yours once again. “My bride’s concerns shall be mine.”

“I am not thy bride,” you breathe the words out and close your eyes just as he leans in.

Your foreheads meet and his hands find themselves on your waist. He pulls you close to him, your body flush against his. Your hands rest on his chest, pushing against his defined muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt. He keeps you close, though, his breathing mixing in with yours, growing heavier by the second. His hand moves from your waist to the back of your head, his lips now hovering beside your ear.

“Why must you deny me the pleasure that is you?” Xavier sighs. “Must thou remain difficult?”

“I am not a heart to be won, just to be forgotten,” you respond. You unconsciously move your hands from his chest and place them around his neck, hooking around him. He pulls you closer. “I am not won through chivalrous gestures nor will I be swayed with grand romance.”

“Then tell me,” the prince pulls away. His hand slips from the back of your head and to your cheek. His touch is fire against your skin. It burns. Your stomach flips in on itself. You catch yourself before you can lean into it. “Tell me how I shall win thy heart.”

“Tis not my heart to be won,” you loosen your grip on him, “tis respect and honor. Duty.”

“Duty?” his face flickers with confusion. You slip away from him but the tips of his fingers graze along the bare skin of your arm. He captures your hand, not allowing you to escape him quite yet.

“Love will grace thine hearts in time. Tis a truth we must embrace. I seek a noble soul, a steadfast protector, who shall remain at my side, undaunted by the whispers and tales woven by thy’s court,” your whisper grows louder. Xavier loosens his grip on your hand, allowing it to fall back to your side. “Thus shall you win my favor and heart’s desire.”

The village streets are as lively as Rafayel described to you as a child. Tonight’s celebration is one from Lemurian tradition, a Festival of the Sea. It is a way for the Lemurians, who originated in coastal towns in the early days of the Roman Empire, to give back to the sea, to give the oceans their thanks and praises for providing them with the means necessary to survive. Lemruians are servants to the sea and they bow to no man.

You consider yourself lucky to have an alliance with them, especially with their prince. An alliance with a Lemurian is almost always a guaranteed victory, especially when the battles take place on the sea or in royal courts across the continent.

Your arm is wrapped with Rafayel’s, his long purple hair getting caught with the wind. The two of you laugh as you reach the center of the seaside village, smiles plastered on your faces as Xavier plays the role of chaperone, remaining just a few seconds behind.

The three of you are a couple drinks in. You have passed through the stalls passing out desserts from your home kingdom and Rafayel’s as well. At one point in time, you passed off your favorite treats for Xavier to try. He finished them all with no questions or refusals, the loose crumbs from the sweet bread seasoned with saffron remains along the outline of his lips. You fought the urge to reach out and wipe the specks away.

Temptation is a slippery slope, though.

The sun has finally lowered below the horizon. Candle light and torches illuminate the night as people pass by each other with practiced ease. You miss the mixture of blues and oranges but appreciate the sight of the stars in the sky, their light and twinkling appearance putting you at ease.

You turn and look at Xavier from over your shoulder. He trails behind you and Rafayel, having remained silent for the majority of the night. You had hoped that tonight would have brought him out of his shell but you learned to appreciate his respect and openness to new traditions and cultures that are laid before him.

Xavier watches as the mixture of Lemruains and Nabrians flows throughout the village. It is unusual for him to see. The only time that Xavier has such two kingdoms get along so well — tried to, at least — was at his cousin’s wedding. One of Philos’ daughters was wed off to a king to the northwest of them, located on a smaller island.

Xavier’s mind wanders to his cousin’s wedding. He wonders what it felt like to be married to a stranger. Did her husband feel as intoxicated with her like he feels with you? Did his cousin’s husband fall in love the moment she tried to put him in his place?

He remembers his cousin’s tears the morning of her wedding. She did not get in a choice in the matter, much like  you, but unlike your circumstance with Xavier, the first time she met her king was at the wedding altar. She did not have the liberty of meeting him beforehand, they did not receive the chance to get to know each other like Xavier has with you. It is not like you talked much, though. You have remained silent while you rode across the small stretch of desert.

“What does he think of?” you turn back around, looking towards the tile ground. Rafayel looks down at you, barely sparing the fair headed prince a glance before he stops walking, stopping you with him.

“Your Highness,” Rafayel waves his hand in front of Xavier’s face. He wears a smug smirk on his face, his arm still linked with yours. He stands slightly in front of you, his face not in your eye line. “Your domina asked a question of you.”

“You did?” Xavier turns his attention to you, his once hardened expression softening.

“Twas wondering what you think of,” you state, looking straight into his eyes. You can still feel the burning sensation of his skin against yours, the way the fire and spark lingers on your body, gifting you no release. The corners of Xavier’s lips perk up in a moment of happiness but it disappears as soon as he opens his mouth to speak.

“The future,” he responds, beginning to use your own words against you.

“The future?” you tilt your head to the side, feeling seen with the way he speaks.

“Tis what I stated.”

Rafayel’s eyes flicker between the two of you. The purple haired prince does not particularly enjoy the sudden familiarity between you and your prince. He slips your hand free from his arm, catching your attention, but he quickly laces your fingers with his. You look up at him just as the heart of the village, the city square whose floor is covered in beautiful and vibrant tiles that are laid in a design of a lotus flower, begins to play its next song.

“Dance with me, domina,” Rafayel requests of you. You begin to shake your head, not remembering the last time you have danced was, especially in the carefree and energetic Lemurian fashion.

“I do not know if it is a good idea!” you laugh. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Xavier slips free from your vision.

“As long as it is a choice we make,” Rafayel draws you close to him, your hands resting upon his chest, as your combined laughter floats into the air.

The city square is flooded with people. You and Rafayel take to the center of the dance floor, assuming your beginning position together, his hand massive in comparison to yours. There are a few other couples lined up around you, their smiles as big as yours. Xavier remains in the background. One of Rafayel’s soldiers places a chalice filled with wine into his hand. He immediately begins to drink as the music swells, the string instruments and makeshift drums filling the night air.

Rafayel remains in place as you circle around him once you listen for the note to move. Your body is loose as you step around the Lemurian. Your eyes meet his blue and pink ones, feeling as the man’s hands attach themselves to yours. You memorize the sharpness of the gold and red lines on his face, admiring the way they make him look more mature. He spins you around with ease. The crowd that surrounds the dance floor is a blur.

You do not catch the scowl on Xavier’s face as he passes off the chalice to the Lemurian soldier. The wine burns down his throat. His body tingles and feels so light yet so heavy at the same time. His blue eyes remain on you and you alone. The blue silk of your dress catches in the wind while Rafayel spins you around. He wishes it was him in the Lemruian’s place.

“Thou remembers the steps,” Rafayel speaks once he brings your body back to his. The two of you dance with ease, the steps to the routine coming back to you through muscle memory.

“Tis back like a faded memory!” your laugh is breathless, the wine from before finally taking an effect on your body. You close your eyes, your smile big across your face, Rafayel’s hands guiding you through the moves. His hands attach to your waist and he lifts you up in the air, your silk dress flowing in the wind, before your feet connect with the ground again. You look up at him from over your shoulder once the music comes to an end, slightly out of breath. “I need wine!”

“Aye!” Rafayel cheers from over the sound of applause. He claps his hands together before taking your hand into his, leading you away from the dance floor.

Xavier’s head perks up as soon as he catches a glimpse of your blue dress leaving the dance floor. He pushes through the crowd as people file onto the mosaic tiled floor. He bumps into a few peasants, offering a quiet apology as his vision blurs. He spots your skirt and follows it like it is his North Star. The prince does not lose sight of it, watching as you sit at a nearby table where Rafayel takes the spot by your side. The man stumbles up to the table and sits on the wooden bench, making for sure that he is in front of you.

“Xavier,” there is a hint of concern in your voice. You lean forward just as a woman places glasses of wine and mead onto the table. “Art thou—”

“The prince will be okay, my domina,” Rafayel interrupts. He reaches over you and places the glass of mead in front of Xavier, placing one of wine front of you. You turn and look at him, beginning to shake your head. “Aye, calm, domina. He can take care of himself.”

“Tis not why I worry,” you mutter under your breath.

You look at Xavier. His cheeks are light pink in color, his eyes disoriented as he looks directly at you. It sends chills down your spine. you look him up and down, noticing the beads of sweat that roll down his neck. The man is clearly not used to the heat, thankfully, he will be back in his kingdom and you with him. There is enough space for him on the bench beside you. You gesture to it and the man’s eyes grow wide. He stands and rounds the table, taking the place by your side.

“Necessary?” Rafayel asks in his mother tongue. The sound is sweet on your ears. You welcome it with open arms.

“His men are watching,” you return your words in his language while covering your action with an excuse, nodding your head to the Philos dressed soldiers who stand not too far away. “Does thou wish for my image to be tainted?”

“If it means I get to thou mine, it would have been worth it,” Rafayel’s voice is genuine.

You pause in your moment, feeling Xavier lean into your side. You meet Rafayel’s gaze but he is quick to look away. A frown forms across your face, your stomach erupting with butterflies. Rafayel finally turns to look back at you, his face void of his charade, one that he kept on to ensure that your prince felt safe in enemy territory.

“Might I take a quick leave? The night is not over and I wish to break bread with thou one last time before we sail the sea,” Rafayel stands from the bench and leaves before you can even respond.

You face forward, staring at the group of people who dance and sing in the Lemurian tongue. The chalice of wine in your hand grows lighter as you sip on the alcohol, your body slipping into a more relaxed state. Xavier groans from beside you, his blue eyes desperately wanting to meet yours but you are too to notice him. He sits up, holding all of his weight to himself now, and stares at the lively scene before him.

Philos is not like this. Their celebrations are much more tame in comparison to the Lemurians. They dance in organized rows and their desserts are are frivolous as their clothes. Many woman in Philos dress their best every single day. Their fashion is to catch the eyes of possible suitors — or perhaps the eye of a prince — and to show off their wealth. It is materialistic now that he thinks about it. Xavier never paid too much attention to it, his head always in a book or sparring with other soldiers at the base of the mountain. His time, much like yours, has been dedicated to the betterment of his kingdom, not to learn dances for celebrations or worry if he wears the most expensive fabrics.

Although, Xavier will spend the kingdom’s treasury if you asked him to. He will buy you all of the silks and jewels that you could ever ask for. He will hand you gold coins for exotic animals and perfumes if it meant he got to see the same smile you wore on your face while dancing.

“Princess,” Xavier slightly slurs the word, his rationality finally catching up to him.

“Prince,” you return his greeting, turning your head to look at the man.

“I wish to leave this place,” he informs you. You raise your eyebrows, slight dejection morphing across your face. “I wish to leave while thou wishes to remain. Pray tell, when I depart, dost thou intend to spend the eve with Prince Rafayel?”

“What hath befallen thee?” your voice is loud enough to listen to over the sound of the string and wind instruments. The banging of the drum is noticeably absent as a slower song plays. “Why worry oneself with trivial matters?”

“It matters,” Xavier reassures you. His eyes move away and he spots Rafayel approaching with a plate of desserts and Lemurian delicacies. He notices, though, that the plate lacks any food from Nabira. He scoffs and turns back to you. “I do not wish to see thee with a man of his stature.”

“He is an Admiral,” you comment, a small smile tugging the corners of your lips up.

“And I a prince. One who commands his own vassal!”

“You are both princes,” you correct him, “and yet you are the one who wishes to conquer.”

“I do not wish to conquer,” Xavier shakes his head, “I follow my King’s command but he? That vile villain, wishes to conquer.”

“Lemuria holds no dream of conquest,” it is your turn to scoff and look away. Xavier quickly cups your cheek and brings your gaze back to him. There is desperation and anger in his eyes, a hunger that slowly begins to overtake him.

“Lemuria may not,” Xavier whispers, “but he does. He doth desire to conquer thee as his own.”

Silence falls upon you. Your posture straightens and you turn away from Xavier, a chill running down your spine despite it being a hot night. Rafayel approaches the table and sits across from you, placing the plate in the center. His blue and pink eyes focus on Xavier, who remains effortlessly devoted to you, while you stare at the party that unfolds from afar, a look of confusion and calculation written all over your face.

“What? What concerns thee?” Rafayel asks with a quiet snort. He glares at Xavier before his expression softens as soon as you turn to face him.

“I wish to take my leave back to my chambers,” you stand and Xavier follows suit. “My betrothed will ensure I am safe.”

“No,” Rafayel stands and is quick to walk around the table. He takes your hands in his own before you even realize it, a quiet gasp escaping your lips. “Allow me, my lady.”

Xavier reaches to the connected hands, breaking them apart. He gently pushes you behind him, his tired and reddened eyes narrowed at the sailor. Rafayel clenches his jaw, his hands returning to his sides, before his eyes flicker back to you. He lets out a stiff chuckle. He bows his head and steps to the side. His eyes remain tied to Xavier’s, blissfully unaware as you reach for the sweet saffron bread from the plate, tucking it behind your back and out of sight.

“Fair night be unto thee, my domina,” Rafayel bows his head as Xavier guides you away, “we shall meet upon morrow’s dawn to take you home.”

You pause. Xavier looks down at you, noticing the strain that flashes across your face.

Home. Is that not the place you were plucked from? It is now a two day ride away from Nabira’s borders and after your journey across the sea, you will be months away, years if you travel by foot.

Xavier places his hand on the low of your back. He glares at Rafayel and gently pushes you forward. You walk through the crowd, bowing your head back at people who pay you the respect first.

Tonight, you were barely seen as a domina, as a political and heavenly figure that must have respect gifted towards. You were as normal as the servants who passed you by, their smiles as big as yours as you danced with Rafayel. Your feet hurt. Xavier remains close to your side, waving away any of his soldiers that step forward to help. The two of you find yourselves walking along the dock where the Abysswalker floats which sits beside your inn for the night.

Xavier remains a small distance from you, watching as you walk the line along the dock where the ocean water sprays you whenever a wave comes crashing in. There are no more lanterns around to guide you through the night. The only light now comes from the bright and full moon. You look down into the waves, the water as black as night. You look back up at Xavier, whose back straightens as soon as your eyes land on him. You hold out the piece of bread.

“Eat this,” you speak. He takes the bread and rips it apart, your mind still dizzy from the glasses of wine you have drank throughout the night. “It will save thee a headache.”

“Will it?” Xavier quietly hums to himself. He brings the spiced bread up to his lips, slowly chewing as he watches you. “Why take leave with me?”

“Why fill my head with thoughts of conquering and worry? Hm?” you are quick to counter. You slow your steps and so does Xavier. He finishes the bread with a few more bites, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What mission did thine accomplish?”

“Truth,” Xavier states.

The moonlight shines along your dark hair, the light reflecting off the strands. It brings Xavier comfort to know that the moon adorns you with its beauty, that the silver colors of the night suit you as much as the golden colors of a day in the desert do.

“Truth? Is that you speak of?” you step closer to Xavier. He simply nods in response. You do not know if he speaks of truth in an objective or subjective manner.

The problem with truth and so called honesty, as you have come to learn from many moments in your life, is that there is always motive behind it. People do not willingly expose their worries or sorrows, they do not put their cards on full display for their enemies to see because, well, that is what you and Xavier are, no? The truths that originate from men in power, from soldiers and nobles, are always attached with a hidden context, something that you know to look out for.

So…what is Xavier’s motive for showing you his cards?

“I do not wish to be thine enemy,” Xavier fills in the silence. The lights of the noble-run inn flicker. You focus on the yellow flames instead of the blue in Xavier’s irises. “I wish for us to unite as one.”

“The why speak of campaigns for my heart?” you ask, feeling vulnerability slip into your voice.

“Duty’s embrace is cruel, domina,” Xavier slips into your mother tongue. You hold back a gasp, shock written all over your face. “I do not wish to see us succumb to the cruelty and coldness that come with it.”

“Why does thou work hand in hand with it? Duty forced thee across the world! You are an accomplice to duty,” you speak, closing the distance between you and him. Perhaps it is the wine that has given you the courage to speak up. Maybe it is the way you have finally realized that you are now doomed and will be imprisoned in a place that does not want you.

“You are as much of an accomplice as I am,” Xavier counters.

“Duty did not force me to set honor to the side and traverse the realms to slay innocent people,” your breathing grows heavy, “it did not force me to smite those who oppose my rule.”

“You speak of thine brother?” Xavier switches back to his tongue. It frustrates you.

“Of course I speak of him,” tears fill your eyes, “he was taken from me. It was your doing.”

“He was well aware of his intent,” Xavier groans, “he knew the rules of combat as did I.”

“A battle to the death,” you laugh and push past him. The silk of your dress sends chills down his spine. “How pitiful.”

“What course of action would thou have taken, then?” Xavier grabs your hand, pulling you back to him.

“Terms,” you spit the word out, “terms for peace.”

“The battle between thine brother and I was the terms,” Xavier’s voice drops. “His fate hath been tied to him since birth as was yours. Be grateful that you are alive.”

“Grateful for a life of servitude and political games?” your anger begins to boil deep inside of your chest. “A life with a man who does not care for me? Who chose thee on a whim? Ah, yes, your Highness, I am eternally grateful for the life fate hath laid for me.”

You rip your hand free from Xavier’s. You turn around and rush towards the tall stone building, the wooden doors opening as soon as the soldiers spot you. Xavier is hot on your tail. You move with precision, the layout of the building already memorized in the back of your mind, as you traverse the stairwells and long corridors. Xavier has kept a decent distance, following you down the dark corridor that leads to your bedroom.

“Who said I do not care?” Xavier steps forward, closing the distance with a few easy strides while you hold the fabric of your dress skirt in your hands.

“Thou dost not care by forcing his betrothed to leave everything behind,” you approach your door and grab the black handle.

You pull on it but Xavier’s hand pushes the wooden panel back into its place, trapping it and you in the process. You can feel the heat from his body on your back. You close your eyes, fists balled at your sides, feeling as Xavier leans down, his lips grazing the fragrant skin of your neck. His hand leaves the door, wrapping itself around your body, keeping you in place. You do not fight back. You lean into his chest, your back fully pressed against him.

You remain near him despite all of the warning bells in your head ringing all at once. You ignore your mind’s plea for freedom, following your innate desire to remain close to the man you will call your husband.

Xavier slowly inhales, taking in the floral scent of your perfume. His free hand reaches around your body and plants itself on your chest. The heat from his hands seeps through the thin material and you shudder, a pool of warmth forming in the pits of your stomach. You let out a breathy sigh, tilting your head to the side to give Xavier more room.

“Duty’s embrace is cruel and cold,” Xavier murmurs against your skin. Your body heats up, your face flushed as you lay your hand on top of the one that rests on your chest. “Let us endure this trail as one.”

“As one?” you breathe out.

Xavier slowly kisses your neck. He starts at the base and works his way up, pressing a feathery kiss where your pulse is the most prominent. You gasp and push your body back into his. The candlelight is dark enough for the two of you to get away with this scene, your quiet breaths and the sounds of Xavier pressing his lips over and over along your skin the only things that will give you away.

“Why me, Xavier?” you ask.

Xavier turns you around, pressing your back up against the door, hands pressed against the wood on either side of your head. He towers over you, his breath smelling like mead and wine, a sweetness stained on his mouth. You reach out and place your fingertips upon his lips, dragging them across the leftover wine stains. Xavier kisses your fingers, his blue eyes locked onto yours. You shudder. The man frees his hand from the door and cups the side of your head, his fingers tangling themselves into your hair.

“Say it again,” Xavier whispers in your native language. He avoids the question. “Say my name.”

“Xavier,” you follow his command like the obedient wife you think he wishes you to be.

A low grunt vibrates in the back of his throat. Without wasting another second, Xavier pushes forward, connecting his lips with yours. His grip on your hair slightly tightens as you accept his tongue into your mouth. He leans into you, the door creaking from the weight. Neither of you care. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his closer to yours if it is even possible. Your breaths mix in as one, quiet words of praise coming from Xavier’s mouth, muffled between your colliding lips.

He finally tastes the wine you allowed upon your lips. You taste the saffron from the bread on his tongue. The bitter mixes in with the sweet, intoxicating you deeper into the kiss. He reaches down and lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his torso. The prince pushes you into the door, the tan stone acting as a barrier between you and the rest of the world.

Xavier pulls his lips away from your swollen ones, traveling down the side of your face to your neck. He targets your pulse point, biting down on your skin. You let out a gasp, eyes flying open from the sensation. Your legs tighten around him. You feel something press into your core. It shocks you. The sound of guards stirring near the stairs makes you dig your nails into his nape.

“Xavier,” you breathe out, head rolling back into the wood of the door. Your voice remains low, matching the quiet of the night. “We shall be discovered.”

“I do not wish to leave,” Xavier’s breath is hot against your skin. His hands travel from your waist to the fabric of your dress His fingers slip under the dress and graze along the back of your leg, leaving chills in his wake. “Do not make me leave.”

“My honor—”

“Shall remain intact,” Xavier sighs and pulls away from your neck. His eyes look at your skin, a small smirk forming across his lips as dark red and purple spots littler one side of your neck. He keeps you in his arms, using one hand to hold you while he opens your chamber doors. “Duty is cruel indeed,” he mutters under his breath.

He walks you inside your room, roaming towards the bed. You feel his defined muscles from under his cloth shirt, your cheeks heating up all over again. Xavier lowers you onto your bed, quickly gathering the scattered belongings and setting them on the trunk at the foot of your bed.

He stops at the bow. He picks it up, inspecting the golden accents that are molded into the dark wood. His blue eyes flicker to you, the prince setting the weapon down atop your weapons.

“I wish to see you shoot,” he comments, remaining in place.

“Thou will,” you whisper, “in time.”

Xavier nods. His eyes flit to the empty space in bed beside you, his body wanting to move to lay beside you. He slowly steps towards the door, the candlelight just bright enough to show him his way. He pushes it open and looks back at you, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“Until tomorrow, domina,” Xavier calls to you.

“Will you get me before we leave?” you quietly ask, sinking into the blankets below you.

“Of course,” Xavier nods.

The prince silently leaves the room, closing the bed chamber door to be as quiet as he can. Xavier quietly walks down the hall, finding himself at the stairwell. Just as he is about to set foot on the stones, he spots the Lemurian prince staring at him from below. He does not speak, simply glaring at the Philos Prince.

“Say it,” Xavier barks the command.

“Thou’s greed will ruin her,” Rafayel’s voice is low and dangerous. The muscles of his arms flex, his blue and pink eyes narrowing on the prince who stands at the entrance of the stairwell. “I refuse to see it happen.”

“Need not worry,” Xavier tilts his head to the side. He licks his lips, tasting the floral notes of the oil you graced your skin with. “She will be safe with me.”

“Is that so?” the Lemurian prince asks. He moves up the stairs, the men now at eye level with each other. “Do not make me sink a boat to be rid of you.”

“If I did not know any better, one would think thou has issued a threat,” Xavier’s eyes sharpen.

“Not a threat,” Rafayel’s eyes darken, “a promise.”

as always, likes, comments, & reblogs are greatly appreciated! please show love to the works & authors you read from!! <3 we love commenters!!

[imagination-mess]

A Second Chance at Life (Touya Todoroki X Fem!Reader) Chapter 5

Summary: For the past five years, you’ve been raising your son as a single mother. You’ve successfully avoided questions about his father by claiming that he died during the Paranormal Liberation War. From what you believe, this isn’t a lie. The last time you saw him was when he personally escorted you to U.A.’s shelter amidst the chaos in the streets.

Unbeknownst to you, he has been alive all this time, clinging to life in a facility working to keep him alive. His father, Enji, has been desperately searching for someone willing to heal him. After his presumed death, a single photo of you and Dabi began circulating through the underground, hinting at the nature of your relationship. To protect yourself and your child, you had to pay someone to stop the pictures from spreading further.

The photo provided answers to a long-standing question: who was the healer Dabi had been protecting? It identified you as the healer who had been deemed untouchable, but it also brought unwanted attention.

A/N: Sorry for any grammar or spelling errors in advance. I kind of ended up combining two chapters into one, so it’s a bit longer than usual. I'm feeling pretty hesitant about this chapter in particular, so any feedback would mean a lot.

This chapter will include Reader’s, Kou's (Reader’s assistant), and Rei’s points of view. Masterlist of ASCAF Previously Chapter Four Word Count: 2.7K+

The next few days, you were bedridden, cared for by your pro hero grandmother and your father. They took turns watching over you, making sure you were never alone, always monitored.

You knew you had pushed past your limit. In the final hours of the operation, you’d begun using your own energy to heal Touya. Now you are dealing with the consequences.

The energy that you have taken from flowers, bushes, and trees by floral shops within 15 miles radius from the hospital. It can only take you so far, usually would be a good quick solution for emergency surgeries. 

The floral shops already know you around the area for the past few years since you got your medical license as a nurse later becoming a doctor. You were already regular and picked up some seeds and bushes for your personal garden back on the hospital rooftop and your personal garden back home. 

You majorly killed the garden on the rooftop which you don't typically do, because it's a hassle to clean up and replant all sorts of plants in the garden. You didn't really have the time to do what you usually do to prepare for a long surgery. You had less than an hour to prepare. 

You were going your limit but you were careful to not give too much to the point that you may actually die. You gave the bare minimum in the last hours since you did request other healers to be in the operation rooms giving a chance you have to just be there to be mainly stabilizing him. 

You stepped away when they were almost finished and went to the trucks that held the plants that you ordered asap in the parking lot. You couldn't step away before because Touya's would not be stabilizing making you result in no choice to stay until he is stable enough to walk away to recharge. 

There’s a reason you're given time between intense operations: your body needs rest. Time to cool down, to recharge. The usual side effects haven’t been this severe in years, but this mission has pushed you far past your limit. It was one of the longest stretches you’d gone without a break.

You’ll sleep for days, waking only to get food into your system before drifting back into your exhausted slumber. The pounding headaches, the dizzying double vision, and the nauseating spin of the room make even simple tasks unbearable. Eating solid food becomes a chore, so you rely on smoothies. They are quick and easy to consume. 

You should be able to be okay soon. You barely know what day it is. 

Not knowing the chaos that was happening outside of the hospital. 

_____________________________________________________

The news was leaked to the paparazzi that the oldest son, Touya Todoroki, is alive and currently being treated in a specific hospital. The scandal of Endeavor lying to the public is being dragged back to the surface. Once again, the Todoroki's family is facing animosity. 

Kou knows you're going to raise hell and interrogate everyone who knew about or worked on Mr. Todoroki's case. You reach out only to those you trust. The ones capable of handling a high-profile patient like this.

You take your patients' privacy very seriously whether they’re a criminal, an average citizen, or a high-profile hero. When it comes to your patients’ safety, you don’t play around especially in sensitive cases. Abusive partners or parents, for example. When a patient confides in you, you listen. You don’t ignore the signs of someone silently begging for help.

He remembers a specific case involving a young teenager whose criminal history kept getting worse. The mutant teen had been beaten nearly to death and refused to let his parents enter his hospital room after getting treatment. He was still hospitalized for his injuries. You purposely prolong the healing, but did enough that your patient won't be in pain. The only reason you prolonged it when you suspected abuse. The fear he showed toward his parents was unnatural and deeply alarming. You didn't like how the parents wanted to take him out of the hospital immediately after getting treatment.

That's a clear sign to be concerned.  

You contact the social worker the moment you suspect abuse. The mutant boy spilled everything once he had someone safe to talk to. When declaring his parents are a threat to his safety, you make sure to keep his parents away from him. When the case is being built. 

You came toe-to-toe with a man triple your size, refusing to let him near the boy—despite him screaming in your face. You kept your composure and never once flinched.

You were standing firmly between the enraged man and the door behind which the boy rested. The man kept getting more aggressive, stepping closer into your space but you didn’t move. You stared at him like he didn’t matter. Like he was irrelevant. It only made him angrier.

You waited for security to arrive, but when the man made a move to swing at you. He was already on the ground within seconds. You used your quirk in self-defense. You only grabbed his shirt to prevent him from hitting his head when he fell unconscious.

If you weren’t a doctor and a hero, you might’ve let him drop. Security took it from there.

You're allowed to use your quirk in self-defense, with the legislation passed during the Paranormal Liberation War back when healers were going missing all over the place. Healers are allowed to use deadly force if the occasion were to rise to it. It has stayed and wasn't removed after the war. There is already a small pool of healers in the medical field industry. 

You used the same energy you stole from the boy’s father to heal the rest of the teen’s injuries.

That boy is one of the few kids you've indirectly saved from becoming a villain. Kids whose quirks or environments that put them in situations they never wanted to be in. Kids forced down paths just to survive. Kids who felt like they had no other options.

You stay in contact with a good majority of them. You check in once in a while and get updates. He knows at least two of them are in hero school now.

For the time, Kou has worked for you. He has gotten your character fairly well. 

You go beyond what is called for you, especially children who can't change their circumstance. You're the type of person who refuses to withhold help or resources from someone who looks like they need it. Whether they use it or not is up to them but you'll still hand it to them.

When you took in a young boy with a death-like quirk to your home. No one wanted to provide shelter for him, due to the dangerous nature of his ability. The fact that he was one of the experiments from one of Dr. Garaki’s so-called orphanages years ago. The orphanage where the boy came from. Dr.Garaki was made artificial using pro heroes and criminals' DNA alike and combining them to create a backup vessel for OFA. 

A majority of the children in this particular orphanage found homes with their supposed parents or with someone capable of handling their quirks. The boy’s DNA matched you as his mother. The father was inconclusive, but the results indicated a relation to someone within the Todoroki family. This is based on blood data registered in the nationwide hospital system. You had already been suspicious when you read the description of his quirk while assisting with the case.

You had gone from caring for one boy to two, but thankfully, they get along extremely well. The kid is thriving under your care, opening up and becoming his own person. You have the money and resources to support them both, and you’re doing everything you can to give them the life they deserve.

It’s kind of ironic how the two boys share the same turquoise eyes, with features so strikingly similar that if people didn’t know any better, they’d assume you were a teen mom who had both kids with the same guy.

Nevertheless, you never said his name or who he was. You just kept your lips sealed and told people it didn’t matter. He's dead.

And no matter what people whisper, no matter what they assume you do your job with empathy. With compassion. With more heart than most. You are not in it for the money, but you genuinely love what you do even if it sometimes means facing the kind of drawbacks that land you in the hospital.

With the chaos surrounding with the paparazzi and Mr. Todoroki's condition, extra security has been placed around the hospital along with the added protection from Mr. Todoroki’s family, providing pro heroes who don’t have personal grudges against him. 

Kou has already caught one of the paparazzi photographers when they tried to open the door where Mr.Todoroki was resting, not expecting the door to be locked. When the heroes were rotating shifts.

Due to the media frenzy, access to Mr. Todoroki has been restricted for now. The fewer people who see him in his current state, the better, until you return. Endeavor is the most eager to see his son, but understands the situation well enough to know that now is not the time.

Kou has caught himself staring at Mr.Todoroki's unconscious form more times than he can count. There was something about his face. Maybe it was the features that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where he’d seen it before. He resembled his parents and siblings, yet there was something else, something he couldn’t quite identify.

His vitals are stable, and the blood work is looking good. So far, it’s been a success.

The main thing now is to see if Mr. Todoroki will wake up. The hope is that he’ll regain some ability to speak, though according to the facility’s notes, it’s likely he’ll need speech therapy. He’s barely been able to speak at all and has to force himself when he does.

Another thing to consider is whether he’ll be able to hold himself up. If not, he’ll need physical or occupational therapy and a personal trainer to help him regain the muscle he’s lost. The notes suggest that he’s most likely lost much of his muscle mass due to prolonged immobility and burns.

It’s a damn miracle he survived this long.

However, Kou knew whoever dared to break your number one rule when it came to working with you would regret it. They weren’t going to escape unscathed. You would find out who they were, one way or another.

You could be downright terrifying when you were pissed. And you’d never work with them again unless it was a life-or-death emergency. You were petty like that and you weren’t ashamed to admit it.

Kou knows your father was already investigating who had leaked the information, fully aware that you were likely to throw a fit and turn the hospital upside down.

If it was one of the hospital staff, they were definitely getting fired. Your father held the same strict ethics when it came to protecting patient privacy and safety.

Whoever leaked the information to the public wasn’t just putting the patient at risk. They were jeopardizing everyone else in the hospital, especially with such a high-profile case.

There would be consequences for their actions.

________________________________________________

Meanwhile, a storm of news is happening. Rei and Fuyumi were in a very popular pastry store that built a reputation among themselves. Fuyumi is trying to get answers of what happened that day that triggered Touya enough for his body to go into overdrive.

Fuyumi truly wants to believe her mother, but her mother’s explanation didn’t make any sense.

“There are plenty of red-haired boys in the world,” Fuyumi finally said, trying to keep her voice level. “That kid could belong to anyone. It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s… Touya’s.”

“I know what I saw,” Rei replied, her voice almost a whisper. “That boy… he’s a carbon copy of Touya when he was little. He even has the same smile.”

It's hard to digest the fact that Touya has a family somewhere out there in the wild. The only Touya that they have seen who only showed pure malice and anger towards them. He was quiet and barely spoke when he was in confinement over the past couple years. 

"I know I sound crazy." Rei sighs burying her face into her palms. 

Outside, school had just let out. Children of all ages trickled onto the streets, laughing, chasing one another, sharing snacks.

Inside the shop, a particular pair of boys caught Rei’s attention.

A younger child with heterochromia clung to the straps of an older boy’s backpack, practically dragging behind him. The older one manhandled him gently, shifting him forward in line and crouching beside him to point out the pastry options. He was trying to keep the younger boy from pressing his face against the glass.

The sight of the red hair with random white hairs on the side of her eye caught the attention of Rei making her look over, but caught her attention was the other older brother. 

The white haired boy's side profile looked too much when Touya was 12 years old….

Are they siblings….

Rei turned toward Fuyumi, ready to nudge her but she didn’t have to. Fuyumi was already staring when she noticed where her mother was looking. Her face had gone pale, her eyes dropping to her half-eaten pastry. 

Fuyumi looked away, not wanting to be caught staring. But Rei looked again.

And this time, the boy noticed.

He turned his head slowly, and deliberately. He purposely locked eyes with her. His glare cut through the gentle hum of the bakery like a knife.

Cold. Far too sharp for someone his age.

Turquoise eyes.

Just like Enji’s. Just like Touya’s.

That same glare from a lifetime ago. The last one Touya gave her before disappearing into the woods to go train.

It made her flinch.

Fuyumi, too, was remembering. Remembering how angry Touya became, how he grew to mirror their father more with each passing year. The rage in his eyes. The disgust.

And yet, there it was.

A childlike voice broke the tension: “Thank you!”

Rei couldn’t help it, but let her eyes drift over again.

The younger boy was practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing in place for his sweets. The older one held a firm hand on his head to keep him from jumping.

The woman behind the counter smiled warmly. “Tell your mom I said hi.”

The older boy nodded,  calm and composed, before handing the bag to his younger brother. “Have a nice day, Mrs. Sugars.”

Then, just as they turned to leave, those turquoise eyes locked with Rei’s once more.

This time, she didn’t have a chance to look away.

“Lady,” the boy said, voice low and calm yet laced with venom. “It’s rude to stare.”

Rei stiffened, caught off guard.

The words weren’t loud, but they landed heavy.

She knew she was acting strange. If the roles were reversed, she’d be just as protective.

The younger boy peeked out from behind his brother’s side, blinking curiously at the two women. Fuyumi gasped. That face…..

He was a strange blend of Shouto and Touya both. But before both of them could process it further, the older boy pushed him gently behind him again, blocking the view.

He didn’t want them looking at his younger brother.

“Is something the matter?”

The soft voice belonged to Mrs. Sugars, who had stepped out from behind the counter. She now stood between the boys and the women like a quiet wall.

The tension in the older boy’s posture eased slightly in her presence.

“Creepy woman,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for only Mrs. Sugars to hear. “Sorry for taking up your time.”

He turned, grabbing the younger boy’s hand and leading him out of the shop without looking back.

Mrs. Sugars lingered where she was, her smile still sweet—but her eyes sharp as glass.

“Ladies,” she said softly, “this is your first and only warning in my establishment.”

Both Rei and Fuyumi froze.

“Do not stare at children like that again,” she continued, voice perfectly polite, perfectly icy.

“You’re making my regulars uncomfortable. I won’t have it happen twice. Are we clear?”

Her smile stayed, unwavering.

But neither of them doubted the warning underneath it. __________________________________

A/N: Huge thanks to everyone who has taken the time to comment on the previous chapters! Your support means the world to me. 💖 How are we feeling about the oldest boy? 👀 already having resemble to Touya at that age.  I also have a taglist, please do remind me in I didn't include you underneath this post. Next: Chapter Six

[honeydippedfiction]

Unspoken, Undeniable {JB9}

Part 7.

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Synopsis: As Y/N prepares to leave behind the warmth of her quiet days with Joe, she finds herself caught between the gravity of growing feelings and the demands of her rising career. From bittersweet goodbyes and flirtatious late-night calls to high-energy rehearsals and media appearances, she walks a tightrope between public poise and private longing. Meanwhile, Joe navigates his own solitude and emotions, trying to keep his cool while missing the one woman who’s quietly undone him. In this chapter of quiet intensity and playful banter, love lingers just beneath the surface—bold, tender, and increasingly impossible to ignore.

Warnings: Sexual Content & Sensuality, Strong Language, Mature Themes, Emotional Intensity, Mild Substance Use, Mentions of Mental/Physical Fatigue. MDNI🔞

WC: 39.9k

A/N: whew these two need to get their shit together and figure it out asap

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

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The morning light was pale and cool, filtering softly through the blinds as Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, suitcase open and half-packed. Her fingers lingered over the silk folds of the dress she’d worn last night, the one Joe had kissed her in, the one that still smelled faintly like him.

She had spent the last few days wrapped in a warm bubble of him—slow mornings, flirtatious afternoons, and nights that stretched long and sweet. But now the bubble was shrinking, pressing tight with the truth neither of them had fully said aloud.

They hadn’t called it yet. Not “us,” not “together.” But the way he looked at her—the way her heart twisted when he touched her—made it clear it was something more than casual. Something worth fighting for. Joe’s voice, deep and steady, pulled her from her thoughts. “You ready?” She nodded, but the lump in her throat made it hard to smile.

The drive to the airport was quiet at first, the kind of silence that held more words than spoken ones. Joe reached over, brushing her hair behind her ear, his touch soft but electric. “You sure you’re okay?” She met his gaze, eyes glossy. “I’m okay. Just... not ready to say goodbye again.” He squeezed her hand gently. “We’ll get through this. Like always.” Y/N leaned into him, savoring the last few moments before the airport swallowed her away — and before the miles stretched between them again.

The Porsche was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the distant city sounds filtering through the windows. Y/N sat beside Joe, her suitcase tucked behind her seat, but her mind far from packing or flights. She glanced over, catching the slight crease of worry between his brows—the same worry she felt tightening her chest.

Deciding they both needed a little spark before goodbye, she leaned forward over the center console, her lips brushing against his in a soft, lingering kiss. Joe’s breath hitched, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, but then she slid her hand down the waistband of his sweats, fingers tracing teasing circles, warm and sure. “Gonna miss this,” she murmured against his mouth, her voice a silky tease. Joe’s grin was crooked, half amused, half desperate. “Guess I better make it count, then.” Her fingers curled just a bit more as she pulled back, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Don’t worry. You’re the only one I’m leaving behind.”

Joe caught her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Just promise me you’ll come back soon.” Y/N smiled, leaning back in her seat, already feeling the tug of leaving, but holding onto this—this moment—just a little longer. Joe eased the Porsche out of the driveway, the city waking around them in soft hues of morning. Y/N’s hand still lingered in his, fingers twining as if to hold him close despite the miles ahead. “You know,” she said with a sly grin, “if you’re missing me already, you could just come with.” Joe shot her a mock glare. “And ruin my tough-guy image? Never.”

She laughed, the sound light but carrying a hint of sadness. “Tough guy who melts whenever I touch him. Got it.” He glanced over, eyes warm. “Yeah, well… you’re the one who’s got me like this.” They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that wrapped around them like a soft blanket. At the airport, Joe parked and turned off the engine. Neither moved to get out right away. Y/N reached up, cupping his cheek. “Promise me something?” “Anything.” “Don’t let this become just... something we leave at the gate.” Joe’s fingers pressed against her palm. “I don’t plan to.” With one last long kiss, sweet and slow, they finally stepped out — both reluctant, both knowing this goodbye wasn’t the end.

The terminal buzzed around her—luggage wheels clattering, voices over intercoms, the steady stream of travelers coming and going. But Y/N barely registered any of it. Her world had narrowed to one—Joe, leaning against the black Porsche, arms crossed, watching her like he wasn’t ready to blink, let alone let her go.

She had her hoodie pulled up, sunglasses on, and her carry-on slung over her shoulder, but none of it masked the way her heart was dragging behind her with every step. She gave him a small wave, a soft smile, and turned toward the sliding doors. But halfway to the entrance, her chest squeezed tight. Too tight.

Damn it.

She paused, stood still for a second, then turned on her heel and jogged back, her sneakers hitting the concrete in quick taps. Joe looked up in surprise just before she reached him—and then she was in his arms, her arms wrapped tight around his neck, her face buried into his chest. “I just needed one more,” she whispered, voice muffled. Joe let out a soft, almost broken laugh, hugging her tightly, his large hands splayed across her back. “You’re gonna make this impossible, you know that?” She pulled back just enough to kiss him again, slower this time, deeper. Like it had to last. “Good,” she murmured against his lips, teasing him gently. “That’s the point.”

He cupped her jaw, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “If you don’t go now, I’m dragging your ass back home.” Y/N laughed softly, but her eyes shimmered. “Don’t tempt me.” “Go, baby. Before I stop pretending to be strong about this.” She nodded, finally—reluctantly—stepping back. One last squeeze of his hand, and then she turned again, walking through the doors without looking back this time. But he stayed until she was out of sight, just in case she did.

Y/N sank back into the plush leather seat of the jet, oversized sunglasses shielding tired eyes and a hoodie pulled over her curls. Her phone rested on her thigh, thumbs tapping out a quick message to Kayla about the updated L.A. rehearsal schedule.

KAYLA: “Carmen says your fittings got bumped to tomorrow, so you’ll have the rest of the day to breathe once you land 🙌🏾”

Y/N barely had time to send back a thumbs-up emoji when another message slid in, this one from Joe.

JOE: “Missin’ you already. My hoodie smells like your perfume and now I’m walking around the house like a simp.”

She grinned, already biting her lip. A beat later, another one came in.

JOE: “Also… if you turned the plane around right now, I wouldn’t be mad. Jus’ sayin.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. The pilot definitely didn’t need that kind of chaos—but her heart? Yeah, it fluttered like she was seriously considering it.

She typed back slowly, fingers pausing between words.

Y/N: “Don’t make me do something crazy, Burrow 😏 I’m tryna be a professional artist and you out here sabotaging.”

JOE: “Professional and irresistible can coexist. You’re living proof.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, cheeks already warm. The jet hadn’t even taken off yet, and she was already counting down the days till she could be back in his arms. She glanced toward the front of the plane, sighed dramatically, and muttered, “Tell the pilot to turn this shit around…”

Then laughed softly to herself. Yeah. She was down bad.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

By the time Y/N stepped off the jet in L.A., the West Coast sun was high and hot, casting long shadows on the tarmac. She had barely slept on the flight—too wired from her goodbye with Joe, too busy replaying every kiss, every look, every tease.

But once her sneakers hit the pavement, something in her shifted. Tour prep mode: on.

Carmen was already waiting for her at the terminal with sunglasses, a clipboard, and iced oat milk latte in hand like the organized queen she was.

“You’ve got two hours to drop your stuff at the Airbnb and change before your first rehearsal. Fittings are tomorrow. We bumped the ‘Can’t Keep Me Quiet’ choreography into today’s block since there’s that new lighting sequence we need to match.”

Y/N grabbed the latte, sipped it, nodded like a soldier reporting for duty.

“Bet. Let’s run it.”

The Airbnb was tucked in the hills—private, clean, minimalist. No distractions. Just enough luxury to keep her grounded, but not enough to make her soft. Within the hour, she was in full workout gear, hair slicked into a high bun, and sneakers laced tight as hell.

The rehearsal studio was already pulsing with bass by the time she arrived. Kayla was stretching near the mirror, a tight ponytail bouncing as she turned and grinned.

“Look who’s back in the war zone.”

Y/N smirked. “Jet-lagged but alive.”

As the music kicked in, she fell into rhythm, body remembering the beats before her brain could even catch up. “Control Freak” echoed through the space, and her muscles snapped through each move, sharp and fluid. They ran “Private Party” next, then the “No Halo” mash-up—with its breakneck transitions and lighting cues—until her hoodie was damp, her throat dry, and every inch of her skin humming.

By the time they wrapped, Carmen stepped in with a protein smoothie and her phone. “Press wants to lock in a slot to talk about the overseas leg. You good to hop on a call in thirty?”

Y/N took the drink, still catching her breath. “Tell them to give me fifteen to shower, and I’m all yours.” But before Carmen turned to leave, she paused. “Joe texted me. Said to remind you not to ‘overwork that pretty little body he’s missing.’” Y/N nearly choked on her smoothie. “He didn’t.” “Oh, he did.” Carmen winked. “Man’s already down bad.” Y/N shook her head, biting back a smile. She pulled her phone from her bag, tapped out a quick message.

Y/N: “Your girl’s putting in work today. But I am keeping that body in top shape—for you.”

JOE: “Don’t play with me like that. You know I’m one missed flight away from crashing rehearsal.”

She laughed to herself, rolling her eyes. Lord, help her. This man was gonna have her off her game if she wasn’t careful. But for now—tour came first. She pulled her hoodie back on, tied her sneakers again, and headed to the call like the boss she was. Love could wait. At least until lights-out.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Joe had never minded solitude. In fact, he’d kind of liked it—before her. Now, the silence in his house was louder than a sold-out stadium. It was late morning, and he was sprawled across the sectional in his sweats, a bowl of cereal untouched on the coffee table, SportsCenter murmuring in the background. But his focus was shot. Everything felt a little too still. He picked up his phone again. No new texts. “Goddamn,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m that guy now.”

He swiped through his camera roll—because yes, he had taken secret candids of her: one of her half-asleep in his hoodie, one of her smirking while eating takeout on his balcony, one of her singing off-key in the kitchen with a wooden spoon as a mic. He paused on that one, lips twitching.

God, I miss her. And she’d only been gone a day. He finally cracked and texted her, trying to play it cool.

JOE: “You settle in? You remembered to stretch after rehearsal, right? 😏 Not tryna have my girl pull a hammy twerking.”

He stared at the screen, waiting like he wasn’t on edge.

In the meantime, he grabbed a hoodie—the same one she wore on the drive to the airport. It still smelled like her, warm and sweet with a trace of vanilla and whatever lotion she always rubbed on her thighs before bed. That scent was lethal. He tugged it over his head like an addict in withdrawal and sank back against the couch, groaning. “This is bad.” He heard his phone buzz.

Y/N: “Stretched thoroughly, thank you very much 🙄 You miss me that bad, Burrow?”

He didn’t hesitate.

JOE: “Like hell. I’m about two texts away from hopping a red-eye just to watch you rehearse in person.”

Then he added:

JOE: “And maybe make sure your form is still… tight. Y’know. As your unofficial strength coach.”

He smirked to himself. A little pathetic, maybe. But she made him feel good. Like himself—but lighter. Later that night, he found himself scrolling flight options to L.A., even though he knew she’d kill him for showing up unannounced. Still… He saved one for later. Just in case.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The press setup in the Hollywood Hills was clean, minimalist, and almost annoyingly elegant. Tall vases of white roses lined the sleek marble table. Soft lighting diffused through linen shades, casting a golden warmth over the room. A makeup artist hovered nearby, giving Y/N’s cheekbones one final dusting of highlighter as her publicist leaned in close, speaking low and fast.

“Stick to tour. Tease the festival sets. Dodge anything personal. Got it?”

Y/N gave a slow, practiced nod, her expression calm. But inside? She was thrumming with electricity—not from anxiety, but restraint. Her whole body felt like a coiled wire, tight with energy.

Because exactly one hour before, Joe had texted her.

JOE: “Try not to lie too hard about us in that interview. Would hate for your nose to grow 👃🏽”

She’d rolled her eyes so hard it gave her a headache and texted back a simple combination of emoji: 🙄🖕. But now? Now she was walking into the lion’s den with perfume on her wrists and his scent still faint in her memory. Her heels clicked softly against the hardwood as she moved toward the plush interview chairs, each step a quiet act of war against the chaos just beneath her surface.

The interviewer rose to greet her—early thirties, stylish in a lived-in way, and clearly a fan. Their eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as they reached out.

“Y/N, welcome back to the City of Angels! You’ve had one hell of a year—hit songs, a nearly sold-out North American tour, and now a global run ahead. How are you feeling?”

Y/N settled into the velvet chair, legs crossed, one manicured hand resting lightly on her thigh. She flashed a smile that had been perfected over years but was still hers—genuine, if not a little tired around the edges.

“It feels good. Honestly,” she began, glancing down for a second before locking eyes again, “I’ve been pouring myself into the music. The shows. Every night onstage feels like the result of everything I’ve worked toward finally… aligning.”

The interviewer nodded, delighted. The rhythm of the conversation picked up. They talked about her songwriting rituals, how she still wrote lyrics in the Notes app at 3 a.m., and how she kept crystals in her guitar case—not because she believed in magic, necessarily, but because they reminded her to breathe.

“So, pre-show rituals—give me the real stuff,” the interviewer asked.

Y/N laughed. “Okay, well, we do jumping jacks. Always. Then we huddle. A quick prayer. And, if the vibe’s right… a shot of tequila. Just one. To warm up the soul.”

The crew chuckled behind the camera. She leaned in conspiratorially. “But only if I’m feeling brave.”

They covered everything. A hint about an unreleased track she might debut in London. A tender moment about how her grandmother still texts her after every show. And just when she thought the interview might cruise to a clean landing, the interviewer tilted their head. The air changed—just slightly—but she felt it instantly.

“And speaking of things aligning…” they began, voice lighter than before, “there’s been a lot of buzz about you and Joe Burrow. People are calling you two the most unexpected ‘situationship’ of the year.”

Her smile didn’t falter. But her back stiffened almost imperceptibly. She tilted her head, playful.

“People say a lot of things,” she replied, eyes dancing even as her fingers curled slightly against her knee.

The interviewer wasn’t deterred. “Well, we couldn’t help but notice these photos…”

Behind them, the screen lit up—and there it was. The photo. The one outside the record store, the sun caught in her hair, her arm tucked through his. She looked happy. Soft in a way she rarely let herself be in public. And him? He looked like home.

There was no time to flinch. Her publicist didn’t even blink, which meant neither could she. Y/N turned just slightly, glanced at the monitor with polite interest.

“That was a good day,” she said evenly. “Great records.”

A beat.

“So,” the interviewer pressed, “are you and Joe… dating?”

She laughed. Not too loud. Not too fake. A smooth, practiced thing with just enough edge to make it believable.

“Joe’s a friend. We’ve hung out. He’s cool people, and we happen to enjoy each other’s company,” she said, like she hadn’t been half-asleep in his hoodie three nights ago, her feet on his lap, teasing him with cold toes and whispered nonsense.

“He’s incredibly supportive of my career, and I’m grateful for that energy in my corner,” she added. Then, a quick pivot. “But right now? I’m focused on the music. These festivals. That’s the priority.”

Textbook. Impeccable. A mask with no cracks.

The interviewer smiled, clearly skeptical but playing along. “Very professional answer.”

Y/N winked. “I’ve been media trained.”

They laughed, and mercifully, the conversation moved on. But the second the crew called cut and the cameras dropped, her phone buzzed where it sat face down on the table beside her. She picked it up without hesitation.

JOE: “‘He’s cool people’? That’s wild. I was gonna tell you I missed you again, but now I’m reconsidering.”

She huffed out a quiet laugh, her thumb already flying across the screen.

Y/N: “Don’t be a baby. You know what it is. Media trained, remember?”

The three dots appeared, then vanished. Then came the reply.

JOE: “I’m still gonna make you pay for that when I see you.”

She smirked, heart flipping, and slipped the phone into her bag just as Carmen approached with the next briefing folder. Her cheeks were still warm.

She had kept her cool for the cameras—poised, polished, unshakeable. But inside?

Inside she was fully, deeply, unapologetically in it.

And she didn’t want out.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Joe hadn’t planned on watching it live. Really, he hadn’t.

His morning had started like any other—late breakfast, slow playlist humming in the background, the dull California sunlight bleeding through his kitchen window. He was halfway through a bowl of cereal, flipping channels aimlessly, when the teaser hit his phone.

“Y/N on love, tour life, and her viral moment with NFL star Joe Burrow 👀”

He blinked at the screen. Then blinked again. No hesitation. No second-guessing. He clicked the link before the milk could soak too deep into the cereal. The live stream buffered for half a second before the screen split into that now-familiar format: interviewer on one side, Y/N on the other, seated in some perfectly lit Beverly Hills setup that screamed “quiet luxury.” White roses. Soft, expensive lighting. She looked like a damn ad campaign for control and charisma.

Her outfit was muted but sharp—corset-style top in a slate gray, high-waisted tailored trousers that elongated already-long legs. Her hair was slicked back in a low bun that made her jawline look surgical. The camera loved her, and she knew it. Joe exhaled a slow breath, leaning back into the couch like gravity had changed. His spoon dangled mid-air as he watched her laugh at something the interviewer said, her voice warm, low, and calculated—smooth in that way she always got when she was in “on” mode.

She looked good. Too good. And even through a screen, he found himself shifting like she might somehow feel him watching. “Welcome back to L.A., Y/N. You’ve had one hell of a year…” The interviewer’s voice was buttery, charismatic. The kind that usually annoyed Joe. But today he barely noticed it. His eyes were locked on her—how she answered every question with that honey-laced poise. She talked about the tour, hinted at a secret London setlist, described her pre-show rituals (jumping jacks, tequila, prayer—classic). She was quick, funny, totally in control.

He couldn’t stop watching her mouth. And then, just when he thought she’d skated through the whole thing clean… The interviewer tilted their head and dropped it. “And speaking of things aligning… there’s been a lot of buzz about you and Joe Burrow. People are calling you two the most unexpected ‘situationship’ of the year.” Joe blinked. Sat up straighter.

Ah, there it is. The interviewer was smiling like a kid who just lit a firework. Joe knew it was coming eventually—he wasn’t stupid. But hearing his name roll off their tongue like a tabloid headline still made something twitch in his jaw. Y/N’s smile stayed fixed. But he recognized the micro-pause. The millisecond of calculation. He knew that look like he knew his own playbook.

“People say a lot of things,” she answered, cool and unbothered. Joe’s smirk started to creep in. Damn right they do. Then the monitor behind them lit up. Boom. That photo. Outside the record store, sunlight slanting through the glass, her body pressed into his side like it belonged there. And her expression—God, her face—so soft, so open. She looked like she wasn’t pretending. Because she hadn’t been. He tilted his head at the screen, lips curling. Yeah. You did look like mine. Because you are. But then she spoke again. “Joe’s a friend. We’ve hung out. He’s cool people…” The smirk on his face froze halfway.

Cool people? His brow rose slowly. He paused the stream, rewound five seconds, played it again. “Joe’s a friend. We’ve hung out. He’s cool people…” He exhaled through his nose, leaned back into the cushions with a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. One hand dragged down his jaw as he shook his head, grin crooked now.

“Oh, so that’s how we’re playin’ it now?” he muttered to himself. “Friends, huh?” The interview wrapped soon after that, fading out with a final polite nod and soft outro music. Joe didn’t even wait for the credits. He reached for his phone and fired off the text without thinking.

JOE: “‘He’s cool people’? That’s wild. I was gonna tell you I missed you again, but now I’m reconsidering.”

He stared at the screen. Three dots popped up immediately. Paused. Disappeared. Then came back.

Y/N: “Don’t be a baby. You know what it is. Media trained, remember?”

He smiled despite himself, shaking his head.

Yeah, I know what it is. But that didn’t mean it didn’t still dig a little. Not at her—never at her. At the game. The fact that she had to shrink what they were just to stay one step ahead of the media wolves nipping at her heels. He got it. Hell, he respected it. But it still stung. He typed back quickly.

JOE: “I’m still gonna make you pay for that when I see you.”

Y/N: “Countin’ on it, 9.”

He tossed the phone onto the couch beside him and leaned forward, elbows on knees, his cereal long forgotten, now soggy in the bowl on the coffee table. The screen was still paused on her face—her smile soft but guarded. Her eyes sharp. A woman playing chess in a room full of checkers. He watched her for another few seconds. Silent. Then murmured under his breath, “My girl.” Because that’s what she was. Whether the world had permission to know it or not. She was the girl who fell asleep in his hoodie with her hand curled in his. The girl who danced barefoot in his kitchen, humming Janet Jackson while stirring scrambled eggs. The girl who tasted like mint and mischief at 2 a.m. on his balcony, who stole his sweats and left her gloss on his coffee mugs. So yeah. She could give the world the PR version. The polished soundbite. The “cool people” narrative. But he knew the truth. And when she got back? He was gonna make damn sure she remembered it too.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Backstage at the L.A. rehearsal space, the walls practically pulsed with bass, the distant throb of “Private Party” bleeding through layers of concrete and soundproofing. Every now and then, a snare kick rattled faintly through the vents—just enough to vibrate the metal countertop in front of Y/N as she leaned over it, swiping a final layer of gloss onto her already glistening lips.

Her hair was pulled into a tight, slick ponytail that cascaded down her back, and the cropped, baby-pink rehearsal set she wore clung to her like it had been sewn onto her skin. She looked good, and she knew it—but it wasn’t vanity. It was armor. The right look gave her power. Control. Focus. She leaned closer to the mirror, pressing her lips together once, twice, satisfied with the shine. Her skin caught the dressing room lights just right—dewy, warm, glowing in that post-everything way.

The door swung open with a squeak, followed by a breeze of citrus perfume and a very dramatic sigh. “Girl,” Kayla drawled, already halfway through a green juice and still wearing oversized sunglasses even though they were very much indoors. She dropped her bag unceremoniously on the bench, flopping down like she’d just survived a war zone. “What exactly did you and Joe get up to while I was in hotel exile? Because you’ve been walkin’ around here glowing like you hit the lottery and got laid by God at the same time.” Y/N didn’t flinch. Just smirked, eyes still on her reflection. “That’s dramatic. Even for you.”

“I’m serious,” Kayla said, yanking her sunglasses off and pointing them at her like a weapon. “You kicked me out the minute he flew in from training camp and then ghosted me for two whole days. Two. Days. That’s blackout behavior. That’s mattress-damage aftermath, and I know it when I see it.” Y/N finally turned around, still leaning back on the counter, arms crossed lazily across her chest. Her gloss gleamed, catching the light just right as she quirked a brow. “We just… chilled.” Kayla squinted like she was inspecting an ancient artifact. “Define ‘chilled.’”

Y/N tilted her head. “Watched movies. Smoked. Cooked.” “Mmhmm,” Kayla replied flatly, dragging out the syllables. “And how many of those activities involved your legs in the air?” Y/N burst out laughing, nearly doubling over as she slapped a hand to her chest. “Why are you like this?” “Because you’re not slick,” Kayla declared, triumphant. “You walked in here this morning with that post-I got my soul snatched energy. Skin buttery. Aura glowing. Edges laid by Jesus himself. That’s not just moisturizer, babe. That’s satisfaction.”

Y/N tried to keep it together, but the grin was impossible to contain. She turned back to the mirror, pretending to adjust her shorts, but her reflection betrayed her—cheeks flushed, eyes soft, the kind of softness that doesn’t come from rest, but from being wanted. Kayla gasped behind her. “Oh my God. You’re in love with him.” Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “I am not—” “You are!” Kayla shouted, jumping up like she’d solved the Zodiac cipher. “You caught feelings, girl. Look at you. All soft and floaty. And don’t even try to deny it—I’ve had to stare at your ‘roster’ for the last year and a half. You haven’t even looked in their direction in, what, a month?”

“There is no roster,” Y/N muttered, trying to smooth her top, even as her grin crept back in. “Exactly. You turned in your player card,” Kayla teased. “You’re down bad.” Y/N exhaled through her nose, half-laugh, half-defeat, and braced her hands against the vanity again. Her heart was moving faster now, but not in a way that panicked her. More like something was expanding in her chest, taking up space she wasn’t used to giving away.

“He’s just…” she started, searching for a word that didn’t feel like surrender. “Different.” That seemed to land. Kayla’s expression shifted, amusement fading into something more sincere. She stepped closer, lowering her voice without needing to be told. “Yeah. I know,” she said. “I saw how he looked at you. Like he didn’t want anyone else in the damn room breathing the same air.” Y/N froze for a breath. She’d tried not to overanalyze it. Tried to compartmentalize, to put it all in a box labeled Temporary. But now, standing in the soft glow of the dressing lights, hearing her best friend say it out loud?

It hit her. The way Joe touched her like she was breakable but also entirely his. The way he brushed his thumb over her lips mid-sentence, like he just needed to feel them. The way he whispered missed you into the curve of her neck like it wasn’t for her to hear, just for her to feel. The way he kissed her like time didn’t exist.

And damn it, Kayla was right. She did glow. “I don’t know what we are,” Y/N admitted finally, the words barely above a whisper. “But I know it’s not nothing.” Kayla came up behind her, looping her arms around her waist and resting her chin on Y/N’s shoulder. In the mirror, their eyes met—one woman glowing, the other gently smug. “Whatever it is,” Kayla said, voice full of quiet truth, “he’d be a fool to fumble you. And Joe? Doesn’t seem like the fumbling type.” Y/N held her gaze in the mirror, the smile that curved her lips this time slower. Deeper. “Let’s hope not.”

There was a beat of silence between them. Then Kayla clapped her hands, pulling away like she hadn’t just casually rearranged Y/N’s entire emotional landscape. “Alright. Now that I’ve confirmed your emotional entanglement, can we please get back to rehearsal before Carmen throws a mic stand through the wall?” Y/N laughed, grabbing her phone off the counter. “Fine. But after?” “I know you’re calling him.” Y/N turned to head toward the soundstage, ponytail swinging. “Damn right I am.” Kayla smirked, walking behind her. “Tell him I said thanks for the glow-up.” Y/N looked back over her shoulder, grinning. “He’ll see it for himself soon enough.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The rehearsal space in downtown L.A. was buzzing — hot with movement, heat, and the relentless heartbeat of bass pouring through the speakers. Mirrors lined every wall, fogged slightly from the intensity of the session. The air smelled like sweat, studio-grade dry shampoo, and something electric—ambition, maybe. Or adrenaline.

Center stage, Y/N moved like muscle memory. Sharp, fluid, commanding. Her high ponytail whipped with every turn, sticking slightly to the sweat at the nape of her neck. Her cropped, butter-soft tank was soaked down the spine, clinging to her like a second skin. Still, she didn’t miss a beat. “Five, six, seven, hit—” Her voice cut cleanly through the track’s break, counting the beat under her breath just loud enough for the dancers closest to hear. She snapped into the final move of Lip Locked, body rolling into a deep, grounded drop that hit the floor on cue with the strobe lighting—each pulse synced perfectly with the bass line.

Kayla mirrored her to the left, a blur of precision and fire, her timing locked. The two of them—electric, in command, breathing the same beat like it was gospel. Then silence. The music cut, leaving only the hum of equipment and the heavy, shared rhythm of breath. Y/N planted her hands on her hips, chest heaving. Her shoulders shimmered with sweat under the rehearsal lights. “That’s it,” she panted, nodding to the crew. “Again—but we need the transitions cleaner between chorus and bridge. And drop the tempo for the first chorus. I want that strut to land.”

Kayla gave her a thumbs up, already backing into position. The rest of the dancers peeled off, collapsing in loose circles around the water cooler, stretching or tugging off knee pads. The choreographer stepped in with his iPad, offering playback notes. Y/N walked toward the edge of the stage, grabbing her towel from the corner of her open gym bag. She sat on the platform’s edge, stretching her long legs in front of her, neck rolling gently as she swiped sweat from her collarbones. Her phone lit up on top of her speaker.

Incoming FaceTime: Joe 🥷🏽

The corner of her mouth lifted before she even reached for it. She didn’t hesitate—just swiped up, already grinning as his face filled the screen. There he was. Backwards hat. Gray hoodie. Pursed lips like he was trying not to look too invested. A laminated Bengals training schedule was stuck to the wall behind him, giving away his location even before she noticed the beige institutional paint. The team facility, no doubt. “Well, look who finally remembered me,” he said, voice low and teasing. But underneath it, a flicker of something else—the petty undertone was loud.

Y/N propped the phone on her water bottle, adjusting the angle so he got a full view of her glowing and very sweaty self. She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh God, what now?” Joe leaned back in the office chair, folding his arms behind his head. “I saw the interview.” Ah. So that’s what this was. She smirked, not bothering to play innocent. “Oh, that.”

He nodded slowly, eyes narrowed. “I’m ‘cool people’ now? That’s all I am to you?” Y/N tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Do you wanna be more than cool people, Joseph?” He blinked. Caught off guard. “That’s not—nah, don’t flip it like that.” “Because last I checked,” she purred, voice turning syrupy sweet, “you had zero complaints when I was all over you in that Porsche like we were the only people on Earth.”

Joe dragged a hand down his face, trying—and failing—to suppress a grin. “That’s crazy. Don’t try to be slick now.” “Oh baby,” she said, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder with a wink, “I don’t try. I am.” He stared at the screen for a second too long, like he could actually reach through and touch her. His hand dragged over his mouth again, trying to hide the way his lips had curved upward. “You’re lucky I like you.” She leaned in slightly, lashes fluttering. “You’re lucky I miss you.” His gaze shifted at that—lowered for a second, softened around the edges. He leaned closer to the screen, his voice quieting.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she echoed, the word barely more than breath. “This week’s been good. The work’s been good. But… it’s weird not having you around. Even just to bug me.” Joe scoffed. “Bug you? You’re the one always touching me like my sweats ain’t sacred.” Y/N laughed, head thrown back, the sound echoing lightly in the cavernous studio. “They’re not. They belong to me now. You knew what it was when you let me in your house.” He shook his head, trying to fight the red rising in his cheeks. “You’re outta pocket.”

“And yet… you love it.” He didn’t deny it. Just gave her that lazy smirk—the one that lived somewhere between you’re ridiculous and I’m obsessed with you. The one that made her stomach flip. Joe leaned in, elbows braced on his knees now, voice dipping low. “You killing rehearsals?” “Always.” “You need anything?” She hesitated for half a beat. Then, slower: “Just you at the first show. Looking at me the way you do when no one else is watching.”

That one hit. He blinked, clearly not expecting her to cut straight through the bullshit like that. She could see it—feel it even through the grainy filter of FaceTime. A beat passed. Then: “Bet.”

Y/N tilted her head, lip caught between her teeth. “You coming?” Joe didn’t answer right away. Just held her gaze through the screen and gave her a look that said more than anything he could’ve texted or posted or tweeted. Finally, his voice low, certain, steady. “Send me the date.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The Airbnb smelled like incense, fabric tape, and the faint citrusy trail of someone’s setting spray. It was organized chaos—half dressing room, half war zone. Garment bags hung off every surface: chairs, stools, the breakfast bar. Sequins winked under the soft yellow overheads like stars caught in a storm, while vinyl and mesh corsets hung like armor across the back of the couch.

On the long farmhouse dining table, mood boards were spread in controlled disorder. Swatches of metallics and sheers were pinned beside sketches, Polaroids, and printed shots of past tour looks. Each outfit was labeled by setlist name—Lip Locked, Private Party, Control Freak, Thigh High Lies—every costume designed to hit like a lyric. Drea, Y/N’s longtime stylist and certified outfit whisperer, stood barefoot with a pen tucked behind her ear, pointing at a sketched bodysuit on her tablet. The design was all-black with jagged thigh cutouts and oil-slick iridescent paneling that glowed like a hologram.

“This one,” Drea said, tapping the screen with her pen. “It’s screaming Thigh High Lies. Dangerous but polished. But I’m thinking… silver chrome boots. Not matte. High-gloss. They’ll punch against the LED strobes like thunder.” Y/N sat back against the deep cushions of the linen couch, one leg folded under her, a cold green tea sweating in her hand. Her hair was half up, twisted into a casual knot, soft tendrils framing her cheekbones. She studied the sketch, then glanced over at the whiteboard scrawled with the show’s rough setlist.

“I like it,” she said, dragging the straw between her lips. “But that thigh cutout? I need it cleaner. Edgier. Not sloppy sexy. Let me see it on the mannequin again.” “Say less,” Drea replied, already heading for the corner where their faceless model stood, dressed in a half-draped prototype. Across the room, Kayla lay sprawled on the rug like a sun-drunk cat, a laptop balanced on her thighs. Reference clips from Y/N’s last tour flickered on screen as she cross-referenced them with outfit concepts. “We’re gonna have to rework some of the Control Freak choreo if you’re wearing that vinyl set,” she warned, tapping her keyboard. “That thing doesn’t breathe.”

Y/N didn’t even blink. “Neither do half the people watching that number.” Kayla snorted without looking up. “Fair.” A new sound cut through the fabric-rustle and bassline test clips—Y/N’s phone vibrating against the table. She reached for it instinctively, and a smile curled at the corner of her lips before she even read the name.

Joe 🧃 FaceTime Incoming

She swiped to answer, turning the camera toward herself, the soft couch lighting catching the glow of her skin. “What’s up, Quarterback?” Joe’s face filled the screen, hoodie pulled over damp curls, skin flushed like he’d just stepped out of the shower. He looked relaxed, boyish even, but the smirk was loaded. “You called me,” he said, already teasing, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “I know,” she replied sweetly. “Just making sure you knew I wanted to see your face.” From the floor, Kayla groaned like she’d just been force-fed a rom-com. “Oh my God, y’all are sick.” Joe grinned. “Tell her to stop calling me if she can’t handle it.” “You wish,” Y/N shot back, then flipped the camera to show the state of the Airbnb. “We’re deep in outfit hell. Needed a second opinion.”

Joe squinted at the mess. “You want me to weigh in on fashion? That’s brave.” Kayla didn’t even pause. “Let’s see if the man who owns seventy-five gray hoodies has taste.” “Don’t do me like that,” Joe said, shaking his head. “I’ve got at least four navy ones.” Drea rolled the mannequin into the camera’s view. “Okay, this one’s for her opener. We’re going big: bold, sexy, futuristic. It says ‘I’m the one you’ll be dreaming about tonight.��� Thoughts?”

Joe’s brows lifted, mouth parting slightly. “She wears that, y’all might need to carry me out on a stretcher. That thing is… illegal.” Y/N laughed, biting her lip. “So that’s a yes?” “That’s an absolutely. Don’t let them tone it down.” Kayla made a gagging sound, flopping back dramatically. “Okay, now that we’ve gotten his horny approval, can we move on?”

“Nope,” Y/N said cheerfully, tilting the camera toward Kayla. “Because she still owes Joe a verbal beatdown for thinking Iron Man is better than Bucky.” Joe lit up. “Thank you! Finally, someone brings it back up!”

Kayla sat up with newfound energy, eyes narrowed like she’d just stepped into a courtroom. “First of all—Bucky Barnes literally survived decades of trauma, came out with a metal arm and morals. Iron Man built one suit and thought he was Jesus.” “He made dozens of suits, Kayla—” “AND? Bucky was brainwashed, used as a weapon, and still managed to be a decent human being. He’s got the angst, the arc, the arms—” “Tony created the Avengers. Saved the damn planet—”

Y/N leaned back on the couch, watching the chaos unfold like she was at a dinner theater production. She rested her head on her palm, eyes flicking between the two of them. “I should’ve let this argument stay buried,” she muttered.

They kept going, rapid-fire volleys flying back and forth—Joe’s sports logic vs. Kayla’s Marvel monologue mastery. Y/N didn’t even bother to interrupt. She just smiled, listening, watching the two people who somehow made her world feel less heavy. “This is my life,” she said under her breath, amused. “I’m sleeping with a sports nerd and best friends with a superhero nerd.” Drea, still pinning fabric to the mannequin, didn’t look up. “Because you have excellent taste.”

Y/N raised a brow, glancing at Joe on the screen. “Mmm. Jury’s still out on that.” Joe pointed at the camera. “You’ll regret that.” “Will I?” she teased, tone syrupy. His smirk shifted—just slightly—but the promise underneath was unmistakable. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice low. “Next time I see you… you’ll be too tired to walk on stage.”

“Gross!” Kayla yelled, throwing a pillow at the couch. “Goodbye,” Y/N laughed, cheeks burning as she hit the red button mid-cackle. The room erupted in crosstalk and groans. Kayla was still gagging dramatically on the floor. “I need a cleanse after that. Get me sage, a rosary, and maybe a bottle of wine.” Y/N just smiled, already pulling her phone back into her lap. The call was over, but her heart was still beating like she’d just done three rounds of full-stage choreo. Because whatever this was? It wasn’t nothing.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N had just stepped out of the shower, steam still clinging to the mirror and warmth radiating off her skin like she carried the heat with her. Her hair was bundled into a towel atop her head, damp tendrils curling around her face. She wore one of Joe’s old LSU tees — oversized, soft from too many washes, and shamelessly hers now. He hadn’t asked for it back. She hadn’t offered. The sleeves brushed her elbows, the hem skimming her bare thighs as she padded across the cool hardwood to her bed.

The day had wrung her dry. Eight straight hours of rehearsals that blurred into a blur of fittings, press calls, and decisions about strobe lights and stage pyros. Her muscles ached in places she didn’t know could ache. Her voice was hoarse. Her eyeliner had long given up the fight. But none of that mattered. Not when she was tucked in bed, propped against an obscene number of pillows, the glow of her phone screen painting her face in the dark. She barely thought about it as she pulled up her favorites, tapped the little camera icon like a reflex.

Joe 🧃 — connecting…

He picked up almost immediately. There he was. Dim lighting backlit his room, a single bedside lamp casting a halo over his tousled curls and the gold chain that glinted faintly against the collar of his hoodie. He looked soft around the edges, relaxed in the kind of way that only happened when he was home, unbothered, and winding down. The hoodie was slightly askew, the neckline revealing the hard cut of his collarbone and the kind of scruff she loved to drag her nails across.

“There she is,” Joe murmured, voice even lower this late — like gravel laced in velvet. “You look tired, baby.” She sighed dramatically, dropping her head back against the pillows. “I’m exhausted. Carmen had me in four-inch boots all afternoon like I’m immortal. I swear my toes are filing a complaint.” He chuckled, the sound a little scratchy, like it had to travel through the screen to reach her. “You looked good doin’ it, though. I saw that rehearsal clip you sent earlier. That spin move? My knees would've popped like Lego joints.” Y/N laughed, her hand covering her face. “You and your busted knees.”

“They’ve seen war,” he said seriously, and she could picture the way he probably mimed a dramatic limp after practice. The line went quiet for a second, but not uncomfortably so. It was the kind of silence that settled between people who didn’t need to fill space just to prove they were present. She just looked at him. At the way his eyes stayed on her face like he wasn’t just looking — he was watching. Absorbing. She could tell by the way his gaze lingered, soft but steady, like she was something rare he hadn’t figured out how to stop needing. “You’re wearin’ my shirt again,” he said, quieter now, eyes flicking downward.

Y/N glanced at herself. “Mmhm. Smells like you.” Joe’s eyebrow lifted. “That a good thing?” “Depends on the day,” she replied, teasing. “Oh, word?” He shifted, pushing the phone a little further back so she could see his full offended expression. “I give you my shirt, my hoodie, my… affection… and you just disrespect me like this?”

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “It’s part of my charm.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You’re lucky I’m not there, ‘cause I’d remind you real quick how uncharming you are when I’ve got you pinned underneath me.” “Whew—!” Y/N fanned herself dramatically with her free hand. “Let me not combust while Kayla’s in the next room tryin’ to sleep.” Joe grinned, smug and proud of himself. “You started it.” “No, you did. Smilin’ at me like that.”

“Like what?” “Like you’re in love with me or somethin’,” she shot back, light and airy, like it was a joke. Except it wasn’t. Not entirely. And the second the words left her mouth, she saw it — the flicker of something unguarded in his expression. That pause. That breath he took before speaking again, softer now. “Maybe I am.” Her heart hiccupped. Just once. But enough to make her sit up straighter, like the air had shifted. Y/N blinked at him, her face suddenly too warm. She didn’t know what to say, not yet. Her mouth opened, then closed, and instead of replying, she did the one thing she knew she could control—flipping the camera to point at the ceiling.

“Anyway,” she said breezily, staring at the textured paint like it held the secrets of the universe. “The wall looks great tonight.” Joe’s laugh rumbled through the speaker, low and husky. “You so scared of feelings it’s kinda cute.” “I’m not scared,” she mumbled into the blanket, but her voice betrayed her — soft, too careful. “Mhmm.” “I’m not,” she insisted. Then, after a beat: “I just… I miss you. That’s all.” And just like that, the air softened between them again. No heat. No teasing. Just something tender and wide open.

“I miss you too,” Joe said, his voice all velvet now. No bravado. Just truth. The quiet that followed was thick, charged with all the things neither of them had the courage to say just yet. Then, he broke it gently. “Wanna fall asleep on the phone?” Y/N nodded before she even realized it, then smiled sleepily. “Yeah. Just… don’t hang up.”

Joe’s reply was instant, grounding. “Never do.” She settled deeper into the pillows, angling the phone so his face was the last thing she saw before her eyes began to flutter shut. Across the miles, across the cities, they lay in different beds, but tethered by the kind of closeness that didn’t require touching. Just two glowing screens. Just breath shared across a line. Just something unspoken but undeniable, humming between them. Something that maybe — no, definitely — was becoming more than either of them expected.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Joe sat on the edge of the bench in the Bengals locker room, his head bowed, earbuds tucked in, lacing his cleats with the kind of absentminded rhythm that came from doing something a thousand times over. His playlist bumped steadily — hard-hitting beats meant to lock him in, to anchor him to game day focus — but none of it was sticking. His fingers moved mechanically, but his mind was nowhere near Paycor Stadium. He kept seeing her. Y/N, late-night on FaceTime, wrapped in his old LSU tee with her legs curled under her like she belonged there — not just on his screen, but in his world. The way she laughed, that soft curve of her mouth when she teased him about being in love. Like it was a joke. Like it wasn’t sitting heavy in his chest every time he thought about her.

He shook his head, snapping the second lace tight like he could pull himself back to earth with it. Focus, man. But that was easier said than done. The clatter of cleats and scattered banter filled the room as players filtered in and out. Cleats scraped against the concrete floor. Pads thudded. Coaches barked from down the hallway. Still, Joe kept his head low until he heard the familiar sound of Ja’Marr’s voice carrying through the space like it owned it.

“Yo, Burrow,” Ja’Marr called, jogging by and catching sight of him. “Why you look like you just came off a rom-com set?” Joe looked up, brows furrowed. “Huh?” “You got that glazed-over, love-sick look,” Tee chimed in, slinging his duffel over his shoulder as he joined them. “The kinda look dudes get after a FaceTime that runs too long.” Joe pulled one earbud out and shook his head with a lazy grin. “Y’all talkin’ wild already this morning, huh?”

Ja’Marr tossed him a football with a smirk. “We’re talkin’ accurate. Don’t front. You been all quiet since camp started back. And not your usual locked-in quiet. This is some... emotionally compromised kinda quiet.” Tee laughed, grabbing a bottle of water from the cooler. “What’d she say, bro? She got you on bedtime calls now?” Joe caught the ball, smirk soft but noncommittal. “I’m just… focused. That’s all.” “Focused on what, exactly?” Tee asked, nudging him with a raised brow. “’Cause your pre-snap reads ain’t changed, but your whole vibe has.”

Joe stared down at the football in his hands, fingers drumming over the laces. It was stupid to talk about it here. Locker rooms weren’t for heart-to-hearts — they were for tape, grit, and competition. But damn, if he hadn’t been carrying it around for days, maybe even weeks. He sighed, low and reluctant. “Alright… maybe I’m into her. Like, really into her.” Ja’Marr’s face lit up like he’d just won a bet. “Knew it.”

“But it’s complicated,” Joe added quickly. “We haven’t really… labeled it. I don’t even know what we are. Some days it feels like we’re just vibin’. Other days, it feels like I’m already in it way deeper than I planned.” Tee leaned back against the locker beside him, quieter now, his expression more serious. “Does she make you better?”

Joe looked up, surprised by the question. Tee clarified, “Like, when she’s around — or even just when you’re thinkin’ about her — do you wanna be better? Do better?” Joe thought about the way Y/N looked at him through the screen. The way she challenged him without trying to. The way she saw through his deflections. The way she wore his clothes like they were hers, his name on her lips like a secret prayer. The way he missed her when she wasn’t near, not just because he liked her — but because being with her felt right in a way that was rare. “Yeah,” he said, almost to himself. “Yeah, she does.”

“Then don’t fumble it,” Ja’Marr said, voice grounded now. “Don’t let the fear of what it could be keep you from what it is.” “Sometimes,” Tee added, tossing his empty bottle into the bin, “you don’t need a label to know it’s real. If it’s showing up every day, if it’s honest, if it’s easy in the hard moments... that’s the good shit.” Joe nodded slowly, letting it all sink in. The teasing was gone now, replaced by something heavier. Something real. The kind of advice that only came from people who actually gave a damn. “I just don’t wanna mess it up,” Joe admitted. “Not with her.” “Then don’t,” Ja’Marr said simply, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re good at everything else. Be good at this, too. Take your time, but don’t hide from it.” Joe exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders as the weight of unspoken feelings started to uncoil.

“Thanks,” he said, voice quieter. “For real.” Tee grinned. “Don’t thank us yet. Just don’t be dumb.” The horn blared outside on the field, signaling the start of practice. The trio moved toward the tunnel together, cleats clinking against the pavement, the scent of fresh-cut grass drifting in. As Joe jogged out into the sunlight, the weight in his chest had shifted — not gone, but lighter. He hadn’t solved anything. He hadn’t figured out the perfect next move. But maybe admitting it — just saying it out loud — was the first step. Maybe, for once, being a little soft wasn’t a weakness. Maybe it was exactly what love was supposed to look like.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The late-morning light filtered through the wide windows of the downtown salon, casting golden beams over the polished floor and soft beige chairs. The air carried the faint aroma of lavender-scented products, curling irons heating up, and the hum of low conversation blending with the distant city outside. Y/N sat comfortably in the stylist’s chair, her posture relaxed but alert, one hand resting loosely in her lap while the other held her phone. Her hair was halfway through its transformation—long, flowing boho island twists falling past her waist in sleek, uniform rows that grazed the small of her back. The kind of look that moved like water and glimmered like it had secrets. She couldn’t help admiring it in the mirror every time Amara shifted to work a new section. It was the look. Bold, confident, free—the exact vibe she wanted to carry onto the stages overseas.

She reached up to gently lift a twist, feeling the weight and texture between her fingers. Amara, kneeling slightly to keep the right tension on a twist, glanced up and smirked. “You keep touching it like it’s not attached to your head.” Y/N grinned. “It’s just—ugh. You snapped. As always.” “Please,” Amara said with a flick of her wrist. “You give me a good canvas. Now stop moving so I can finish this back row before lunch.”

Y/N laughed softly and adjusted her posture again. She couldn’t believe Amara had flown in from Atlanta just to do this, but she hadn’t trusted anyone else. Amara had been doing her hair since the first tour—before anyone knew her name outside of SoundCloud and Twitter. There was history in her hands. Precision, too. She was the kind of artist who made you feel like your best self while quietly checking every detail twice. Y/N’s phone buzzed in her lap.

Joe 🧃: “So… full makeover, huh? What are we talking? Need pics or I’m gonna lose it.”

Her heart did that stupid flutter it always did when she saw his name. She smirked and typed back quickly.

Y/N: “Full-on glam. Wait 'til you see.”

She was about to hit send when a blur of energy and coconut-perfumed sass breezed in from the front of the salon. “Okay, okay! I’m back and I brought matcha,” Kayla announced, two green drinks in hand and sunglasses still on despite being very much indoors. She stopped dead when she saw Y/N. “Oh. My. GOD. Bitch, you look like Beyoncé had a baby with a goddess and then gave her a record deal.” Y/N rolled her eyes, amused. “You are so dramatic.”

“Not even being extra right now. The twists? The skin? It’s not even fair.” Kayla leaned over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the unsent message on the screen. “Oh, you texting your man?” “He’s not—” Y/N started, but Kayla snatched the phone with zero hesitation. “I got it from here,” Kayla said, already grinning like a cat with cream. “You’re getting your lashes done next, right? Sit back. I’m taking over.” Y/N gave her a long-suffering look but handed over the phone. “Fine. Don’t traumatize him.” “No promises,” Kayla winked, settling into the seat beside her as the lash tech rolled over her stool and set up.

Y/N leaned back against the soft headrest, eyes closing as the tech began with feather-light strokes. The room’s energy slowed, softened by the music playing low through the ceiling speakers—SZA, maybe, or Summer Walker. Something with a beat slow enough to breathe to. Kayla, meanwhile, had already tapped into FaceTime, putting it on speaker and propping the phone against her drink.

Joe’s face appeared instantly. His curls were slightly tousled, and he was leaning back in what looked like the Bengals facility’s lounge. The expression on his face was pure anticipation. “Kayla,” he said, deadpan. “Why do I feel like you hijacked this call?” “Because I did,” Kayla said sweetly. “Just calling to let you know your girl looks so good right now, I had to stop myself from proposing.” Joe’s eyebrows lifted. “This how you keep me updated now? Just flaunt her and won’t even let me see?” “Exactly,” Kayla said. “Consider it a teaser trailer. Limited preview. She’s mid-glam and can’t open her eyes, but trust me—chef’s kiss.”

In the background, Y/N snorted softly, eyes still closed. “Y’all are ridiculous.” Joe leaned in, grinning. “So I don’t even get a sneak peek?” Kayla turned the phone just enough to show a blurry, side-angle shot of Y/N’s profile, lashes mid-application, head tilted, skin glowing.

Joe stared for a second, and then let out a soft whistle. “Damn…” Y/N didn’t open her eyes but tilted her chin toward the phone. “You behave, or I’ll have Amara braid your hair next time you’re here.” Joe laughed. “You think that’s a threat? I’ve been waiting for that moment.” Amara looked up briefly from the braid she was tightening. “Say the word, Quarterback. I’ll have you in fresh twists by halftime.” Kayla grinned. “Oh, it’s on now.” Joe threw his head back laughing, shaking his curls. “Alright, alright. I’m done. I surrender.”

The call dissolved into a flurry of jokes, laughter, and threats of future makeovers. Y/N, despite not being able to see the screen, felt warmth spreading across her chest. There was something about the way Joe always made space for her in his day, even for ten chaotic minutes. He didn’t just check in—he showed up, even through a screen, even in the middle of practice week. Eventually, the lash tech finished, and Y/N sat up carefully, blinking as she looked in the mirror. “Damn,” she murmured. “Kayla wasn’t lying.” Joe, still on FaceTime, looked like he’d been stunned into silence for a full second. “Okay, now that’s not fair,” he finally said. “You’re tryna kill me before I even get a chance to see you in person?”

Y/N smiled, head tilted slightly, lashes fluttering with practiced grace. “Guess you’ll just have to survive ‘til next week.” “I’m counting the minutes.” The call ended with soft goodbyes and cheeky winks, Kayla finally handing back the phone as she stood to pay the tech. Y/N glanced down at her reflection again, then back to the now-silent screen. Something fluttered in her chest—nerves, maybe. Or maybe the quiet certainty that she was exactly where she was meant to be: glowing, grounded, and just a little bit in love with the man waiting on the other side of the world to see it all.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N stood before the full-length mirror in the Airbnb living room, a mountain of carefully curated outfits laid out on the couch beside her. The room hummed with the energy of her team—Kayla and Drea flitting around, offering critiques and suggestions as she tried on piece after piece. Each ensemble was a statement, a reflection of her artistry and the persona she was crafting for her upcoming overseas festival tour. The afternoon had stretched into the evening, the sun casting a warm glow through the windows, but Y/N felt invigorated. Her hair, now styled into long, flowing boho island twists, cascaded down her back, catching the light with every movement. The intricate braids, a labor of love by her trusted stylist Amara, added a touch of elegance to her free-spirited vibe. Amara had flown in from Atlanta just for this occasion, knowing how important it was for Y/N to feel like herself on stage.

As Y/N slipped into a sparkling bodysuit adorned with feathered accents, Drea clapped her hands in approval. "This one," she declared, holding up the bodysuit. "It's dramatic, it's fierce, it screams headline act." Kayla nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but it needs to work with your hair too. Remember, we're mixing the sultry with the boho vibes." Y/N smiled, slipping out of the bodysuit and into a sleek, high-waisted leather skirt paired with a cropped metallic top. She caught her reflection and ran a hand through her twists. "I think this one's a keeper."

They moved through the piles of outfits—thigh-high boots, statement jewelry, glittering belts. Each piece had to complement not just the music, but the energy she wanted to send out. A perfect blend of sexy and empowered. Between outfit changes, Y/N's phone buzzed on the bed. She glanced down to see a text from Joe.

Joe: "Still not sending me a pic of the makeover? I'm starting to think you're messing with me or hate me."

Y/N grinned and typed back: "Patience is a virtue, Joe. You'll see soon enough."

His reply came almost instantly.

Joe: "Virtue? Nah, I'm just petty and waiting. Not answering until you show me."

She laughed out loud, sharing the text with Kayla and Drea, who all exchanged amused glances. "You're lucky he's cute," Kayla teased. "Yeah, yeah," Y/N said, tossing her phone on the bed. "Let's focus on getting this show ready before he breaks his phone from all the waiting." The evening slipped away in laughter, fabric swatches, and the slow-building excitement of a tour about to begin—with Joe waiting on the other side of the world to see the woman who was already stealing every spotlight.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

It started with a challenge.

Joe had thrown it down on a Wednesday night, all cocky drawl and defiant silence during a FaceTime that lasted a full forty seconds before he hung up. "I'm not answering a single damn question until you show me the makeover. Full reveal. No half-measures," he'd said, jaw set with that familiar, stubborn edge she loved to test.

And to be fair, it had been days since then. No FaceTime. No photos. Not even a glimpse on Instagram. Just teasing texts from her end—strategically vague and always laced with mischief—while his replies grew shorter, more clipped, laced with equal parts curiosity and bratty irritation. She could practically hear the eye rolls through the screen.

So naturally, Y/N decided it was time to turn it up.

It was early evening in Los Angeles, and golden-hour sunlight streamed through her floor-to-ceiling windows, draping the room in soft amber. She was sprawled across her sectional, wrapped in one of the skimpier stage outfits they’d been testing for the upcoming tour—a deep plum two-piece with strategic sheer cutouts and hand-stitched rhinestones that caught the light like embers. The fabric hugged her curves like it had been painted on. Her legs, bare and smooth, were half-tucked beneath her as she scrolled through her texts, the corner of her mouth lifting with quiet satisfaction.

Her hair was twisted into soft, boho-inspired coils pinned back to reveal her face, with a few intentional tendrils falling artfully around her cheekbones. Her lips—glossed and pouty—curled as she began typing.

Y/N: Still not talking to me? That’s crazy. I just tried on something that would make you forget your whole playbook.

Pause. She could almost see the way Joe would furrow his brows reading that, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, pretending to be unaffected.

Y/N: I was gonna send a pic but I’d hate to upset your petty streak.

She waited a beat, fingers hovering. Then, as if it were an afterthought:

Y/N: Sooo if I fly out tonight and just… sit at the airport in Cincy waiting for my knight in shining armour, you’re telling me you wouldn’t show up? That’s cold, Burrow.

She hit send, setting the phone down beside her, and just as she reached for her half-finished green juice—

Read 6:24 PM.

A heartbeat later, her screen lit up with an incoming FaceTime call.

Y/N smirked, satisfied. “Hook, line, and quarterback.”

But instead of answering face-first like any normal person might, she tapped “Accept,” flipped the camera to the back one, and propped the phone against a candle jar on the coffee table. The screen now displayed her cozy, candlelit living room—scattered with open notebooks, pens, her laptop, a tossed cardigan, and a half-empty bottle of coconut water. The vibe was serene, domestic… misleading.

She settled cross-legged onto the thick rug, her journal balanced on one knee as she scribbled a line of lyrics with studied nonchalance. Joe’s voice cut through the speaker, low and incredulous. “Y/N.”

“Mmhmm?” she replied without looking up. “Don’t play with me. Turn the camera around.” “I’m busy,” she said airily. “You know… creating art. Working. Being a visionary. Some of us don’t just throw footballs for a living.” His scoff echoed faintly. “You’re impossible.” She hummed in amusement. “I thought you weren’t talking to me.” “That was before you said you’d be at the airport. What the hell does that even mean?” “Exactly what it sounds like.” Her pen paused mid-stroke. “Maybe I get a last-minute flight. Maybe I wear this little outfit under a hoodie. Maybe I just… wait for destiny.”

“You are so dramatic.” “You love it,” she said sweetly, still not turning the camera. There was a pause, and she imagined him now: leaning back in some too-clean Ohio mansion, one hand raking through that honey-brown hair, phone held close but barely hiding the grin tugging at his mouth. “I swear,” Joe said, low and warning, “if you don’t show me your face right now—” “What?” she interrupted, finally glancing at the phone with a teasing smile. “You’ll come to L.A. and throw a tantrum in my Airbnb? That’s so scary.”

He groaned. “You’re actually evil.” “Say please.” Silence. A long, measured one. Then: “Please.” She tapped her notebook with the end of her pen, considering. “Mmm. One more time. With feeling.” A beat. “Y/N.” His voice dropped, gravel-lined now, softer and a little rougher, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her. “You’re really gonna make me beg?” That was enough to make her stomach flip, but she played it cool. Barely.

Finally, she reached for the phone. Slowly, she rotated the camera toward herself—not directly, of course. That would’ve been too easy. Instead, just a flash: the shimmer of her glossed lips, the curve of her smile, the glint of a rhinestone strap against golden skin. Then, finally, her face in full—smirk and all. “There,” she said, tipping her chin. “Happy now?” Joe just stared. Not saying anything. Not smiling. Just looking, like he was trying to memorize every pixel. “You are so lucky I’m not there right now,” he said eventually, voice rough. “Oh, I know,” she purred, stretching her legs out beneath her as she leaned back on one arm, casual and devastating. “But maybe… you will be soon?” He exhaled slowly, palming his jaw with one hand, like it physically pained him to hold back. “I need a flight. Tonight.” She laughed, eyes sparkling. “Thought so.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

“Still mad at me?” Y/N’s voice was sugar-sweet, teasing as she reclined deeper into the nest of velvet floor pillows beneath her, limbs languid and comfortable in the soft spill of early evening light. Her phone balanced on a folded throw pillow in front of her, tilted just enough to capture Joe’s face — and every micro-expression he tried and failed to hide.

Onscreen, his arms were crossed, biceps stretching the sleeves of an oversized hoodie, and his jaw flexed like he was holding back an actual dissertation. “I’m not mad,” he muttered, eyes narrowing with mock venom. “I’m just… deeply betrayed.” Y/N laughed, rich and unbothered, all pearly teeth and a mischievous glint as she twirled one of her twists between her fingers. “You act like I ghosted you.”

“You basically did.” Joe leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping in that boyish, annoyed way she secretly found adorable. “You got a whole damn makeover and disappeared. No FaceTime. No sneak peeks. Just cryptic ass texts like you were staging a slow psychological takedown.” “You make it sound so calculated,” she said innocently, reaching for her water and taking a slow sip, perfectly aware that the action would draw his eye. “I’m just a girl, standing in her living room, looking hot.” He sighed, dramatic, leaning back on his couch in Ohio like a man with a tragic love story. “Meanwhile, I’m out here like a lovesick simp waiting for crumbs.”

That earned a gasp — theatrical, hand to chest. “Simp? You? Joseph Lee Burrow?” Her grin widened. “You mean Mr. Calm, Cool, and Quarterback? Nah. Couldn’t be.” Joe rolled his eyes but didn’t look away. “You love this, don’t you?” “Mmm.” She gave him a look that bordered on wicked. “More than I probably should.” Silence stretched for a beat, not heavy but charged, and somewhere in the quiet Y/N could tell he was softening — the faux annoyance giving way to something else. Something a little too honest.

“This is actual torture,” he finally muttered, running a hand down his face like he needed to physically swipe the ache away. Y/N giggled, letting the moment sit a little longer before finally — finally — tilting the phone just enough to give him the full view: her entire face now visible, long waist-length twists tumbling over her shoulders, her skin glowy and expertly highlighted, lashes fluttering, lips glossy and temptingly parted.

Joe blinked. “Jesus.” She arched a brow, smug. “Better?” He exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath since Monday. “You’re really not fair.” “I know,” she said sweetly, brushing a twist over her shoulder and leaning back against the couch like she hadn’t just shattered his nervous system. “Now that I’ve blessed you with my presence, can I talk about my tour schedule?”

Joe made a zipping motion over his mouth, then mimed tossing the key away. “Proceed.” Y/N laughed and propped the phone against her bent knees, fingers now scrolling through her Notes app. “So. I leave next week. First stop’s Italy — Florence. Then London, Spain, Malta…” She trailed off as she counted. “And I wrap in France.” Joe perked up at that, his voice shifting into something more amused. “France, huh? Nice. I liked France.” Y/N tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait, when were you in France?”

“Last year,” he said casually, that half-smirk blooming like a secret. “Vogue World fashion show in Paris.” Her head snapped up. “Wait, what?” He just shrugged, feigning modesty, but she could already see the smug brewing beneath the surface. “Joe,” she said slowly, dragging her laptop into her lap like a woman on a mission. “You were in a fashion show and I’m only just finding out about it now?”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You walked in a Vogue show and didn’t tell me?” Her fingers were already typing, frantic and accusatory. “Oh no, sir. Absolutely not.” “I didn’t think it was your thing,” he said, trying not to grin as she clicked through links with increasing disbelief.

A pause. Her screen lit up. “Oh my God.” His low chuckle came through her phone’s speakers like a slow burn. “JOSEPH,” she barked. There it was — a high-resolution photo of him in a deep black designer suit, custom fit to his every line, cheekbones carved like a statue, giving the camera a look that belonged in a Bond movie. And he was shirtless underneath. He was smoldering. Absolutely smug. And somehow managing to look like the hero and the villain in the same frame.

She nearly dropped the laptop. “You mean to tell me this is what you’ve been hiding while whining about a little glam and some twists?!” Joe leaned back with his most villainous smirk yet. “Consider it payback. Since you’ve been torturing me.” “Oh, I’m torturing you?” she gawked, now scrolling through more images in disbelief. “Joe, you look like a Calvin Klein ad dipped in sin.” He grinned, fully entertained. “Sin is part of the charm.” “You’re literally trying to kill me.”

He didn’t deny it. Just rested his chin on his hand, eyes fixed on her with zero shame. “You good over there?” “No,” she said flatly, voice an octave lower. “Not at all. I need a fan. Or holy water. Or both.” Joe’s laugh was rich and unhurried, the sound curling in her chest. “You’re smug,” she muttered, still scrolling, still flustered. “I’m patient,” he countered. “That was just a little reminder of what you’re missing until I get the full fit in motion.” Y/N narrowed her eyes at the screen like she could will herself across the country to slap him through it. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“Shut up.”

“You love me.” She rolled her eyes so hard it felt like a workout. “Goodnight, Joseph.” He barely had time to respond before she was reaching for the end call button, but his voice slipped through one last time — warm and deep and smug: “Sweet dreams, ma.”

And yeah — she was still smiling as she hit end call.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Still clutching her laptop like it had just delivered the gospel truth, Y/N spun in a half-circle on her floor cushions, eyes wide with disbelief and barely-contained laughter. “Kaylaaa!” she shouted, voice lilting with urgency and glee. From down the hallway of their sun-drenched Airbnb came a muffled, suspicious, “What?!”

“C’mere. You need to see this. Like, now.” There was a pause. The sound of feet dragging across hardwood. Then, finally, Kayla appeared in the doorway—looking like the patron saint of interrupted self-care. Half her curls were tucked haphazardly under a silk scarf, the other half rebelliously escaping in every direction. Her face was coated in thick, minty-green clay, giving her an unbothered Shrek-meets-slay kind of vibe. She wore a vintage TLC T-shirt tucked into soft cotton shorts, and her eyes narrowed the second she saw Y/N’s expression.

“I swear,” Kayla deadpanned, holding up her phone like it was exhibit A. “I was this close to quality time with my little friend.” Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Your what?” Kayla raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “My toy, Y/N. I was about to have a very intimate moment. Found the perfect video. Had my snack. My candle. I was emotionally ready.” Y/N burst out laughing. “Wow. Okay. Apologies for interrupting your solo date with your detachable boo, but trust—this is worth it.”

Kayla crossed her arms and gave her a death stare only best friends and annoyed older sisters could deliver with true venom. “It better be. Or I’m going back in there, putting my phone on Do Not Disturb, and calling it a night.” Y/N just turned the laptop toward her like it was a sacred relic. “Behold.” Kayla didn’t even move at first, just raised a brow and took a slow, skeptical step forward. Then another. She leaned in. Her eyes scanned the screen. And then—A beat. “Wait— is that—?!” “Joe,” Y/N confirmed, smug as hell, a hand pressed over her mouth as she tried to contain the eruption of laughter that was bubbling up. “Yes. In a Vogue World fashion show. In a backless suit.”

Kayla let out a sound that could only be described as a yelp-squeal hybrid and staggered back like she’d just been hit with divine revelation. She dropped her phone onto the couch, bent over at the waist with both hands on her knees like she needed to steady herself. “Bitch, you’re lying.” Y/N just twisted the laptop so the angle was perfect. “I wish I was.” And there he was.

Joseph Lee Burrow. NFL quarterback. Midwest heartthrob. Nerd of her heart. Walking the runway like he was born in Balenciaga and raised on couture. His hair was styled in soft, artful chaos. His expression: ice-cold precision, jawline sharp enough to slice through sin. And that damn suit—sleek, deep charcoal black, tailored to sinful perfection… and open in the back, surrounded by lace like a fashion-forward revenge fantasy.

Kayla screamed again. “JOE?! Serving white boy waistline in Vogue?! Oh, no wonder you’re over here grinning like the cat who got the cream and the cow.” Y/N was doubled over now, clutching her stomach, full-on laughing. “I told you it was worth seeing.” “Girl.” Kayla straightened up, fanning herself dramatically. “He looks like he owns a yacht and sins on it weekly. I would’ve thrown my entire underwear at the runway. And then climbed up there to retrieve it.”

Y/N snorted. “You are so ridiculous.” “No, no,” Kayla said, pointing at the laptop like it had personally disrespected her. “That man walked like he’s got a ten-step skincare routine and the secrets to generational wealth. I mean—damn.” Y/N just grinned, quiet but giddy, the kind of smile that made her eyes crinkle. “He is kind of the worst for keeping this from me.”

Kayla’s expression sharpened into an all-knowing smirk as she dropped onto the couch beside her. “Okay. So let me get this straight. This is the same man who’s been FaceTiming you every night like he’s down bad? The one fake-pouting because he hasn’t seen your twist reveal yet?” Y/N gave her a knowing look, lips quirking. “The very same.” Kayla gestured wildly at the laptop. “You do realize he’s been hiding this on purpose, right? Waiting for the most chaotic, high-impact moment to drop it? That’s a power move, ma’am.”

Y/N exhaled and slowly closed the laptop, the image of Joe in his Bond villain glory still etched behind her eyelids. Her cheeks were warm, and not just from the laughter. She looked… dazed. “Well,” she murmured, almost to herself, “it worked.” Kayla nudged her shoulder. “Girl, you are so gone.” Y/N bit her bottom lip, smile widening in spite of herself. “Yeah…” She sighed. “I know.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment—Kayla lounging like a queen in clay, Y/N tucked against the throw pillows, still processing the weapon-grade thirst trap her boyfriend had just casually let her uncover. Somewhere outside, the sun dipped a little lower, casting soft pink light across the walls. The kind of light that made things feel cinematic. “Okay,” Kayla finally said, sitting up a little straighter. “So. What’s the plan now?” Y/N blinked. “Plan?” Kayla gave her a look. “Oh, please. You don’t think he just dropped that runway bomb for nothing, right? He’s waiting for a response. Counter attack.”

Y/N considered that. Her mind was already spinning. A video. Something high-glam, high-drama. A little outfit. A little hair flip. A little “you’re not the only one with runway energy, baby.” She smiled to herself, already picturing it. “Oh, I’ve got something for him,” she said, reaching for her phone. Kayla grinned, wicked. “That’s the energy.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The hum of the private jet was steady and low — a gentle, luxurious purr beneath Y/N’s feet, like the world’s most expensive lullaby. It thrummed through the plush leather seats, the soft carpet underfoot, the glass of water trembling slightly on the tray beside her. It was the kind of ambient calm that should’ve matched her mood.

She was on her way to Italy. The first stop on a multi-city European tour filled with international festivals, high-profile press, and stages that could redefine everything — her career, her reach, her name in lights. Everything she’d worked for, every sleepless night and lyric revision, every breakdown that turned into a breakthrough — all of it was rising with her, 30,000 feet in the air.

She should’ve been electric. Giddy. Unstoppable. And to be fair, part of her was. But the other part… the part curled beneath an oversized hoodie and matching sweats, barefoot and blanketed in soft cream fleece, with her hair piled into a curly bun and her face bare except for the glow left over from a week of nonstop glam? That part felt strangely hollow.

Across from her, Kayla was curled cross-legged in a lounge chair, one side of her bonnet sliding dangerously low as she chewed bubblegum in loud, unapologetic bursts. Her eyes were locked onto her iPad, watching Baddies: Africa with the type of concentration people reserved for chess matches and court trials. “Now why would she wear that top with those shoes?” Kayla mumbled under her breath, thumb tapping furiously to rewind the scene. “Girl, you look like clearance aisle chaos.” Y/N didn’t even blink. Kayla’s running commentary had become background noise over the last hour, blending in with the jet’s hum and the occasional clink of glasses in the galley. But still, something tugged at her. Something soft and low and persistent.

Restlessness. Not the kind that came from nerves or jet lag or too much caffeine. No, this was different. This was… missing. Y/N shifted in her seat, pulling her blanket tighter around her legs as she stared out the window. The sky was blushing — a warm rose-gold gradient spilling across a bed of clouds that looked like whipped cream, light and surreal. It was the kind of view people dreamed about. The kind of view she’d worked her entire life to earn. And still, it didn’t feel complete.

Her gaze flicked to the seat beside her — the empty one. It had only been a few weeks since Joe was there, stretched out and relaxed, hoodie half-zipped, his legs taking up more room than necessary, that smug glint in his eye as he teased her: “You sure you wanna go across the world without me?” She could still see the way he’d looked at her, like she was the only thing worth focusing on in a cabin full of polished distractions. His hand on her thigh, thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles. The way he always smirked when turbulence kicked in and she instinctively grabbed his arm like clockwork. Damn it, she missed him.

Y/N let out a quiet sigh and leaned her head back against the leather headrest, thumb absently reaching for her phone. She’d already texted him before takeoff — just a quick “Wheels up, jet life” with a kiss emoji and a sleepy selfie. He’d replied within seconds, of course, with a meme of a guy sobbing dramatically and a caption that read “Don’t forget to miss me.” She’d laughed. Out loud. On the runway. Like a fool. And now? She wanted to see his face. Wanted to FaceTime him and hear that voice — low and teasing, the kind that made her stomach do stupid, unnecessary flips. She wanted to hear him joke about her “airport fits” and how she always swore she’d nap on the plane and then spent the whole flight talking to the flight attendant about music theory.

But she didn’t call. She just sat there, the ache in her chest growing quieter but no less real. It wasn’t fear, not really. Not even the pressure of the tour. It was him. The absence of him. The echo of his voice in the silence. The weight of how much she’d started to depend on it. And somewhere between the clouds and the soft rattle of the plane, she realized it. She’d done it. She’d gone and caught feelings — real ones. Not just the fun kind. Not just the flirty ones you could brush off with a wink and a sip of wine. No, these were the kinds that showed up in quiet moments. The kinds that whispered what if and what now and what happens when this stops being temporary? And the scariest part of all?

She didn’t want them to stop. She didn’t want to go back to before. Back to the casual. Back to pretending it wasn’t deeper than either of them had planned. She looked out the window again, lips pressed into a line, the sky now fading to dusky lavender. The thought slipped from her mouth before she could stop it. “Damn, girl,” she whispered, half-laughing at herself. “You’re really gone.” A loud snort echoed across the aisle. Y/N turned, startled, and found Kayla watching her with one AirPod dangling, eyebrow cocked and a smirk spreading slow across her face. “I don’t even need context,” she said, pointing lazily in her direction. “That face? That’s a man-who’s-got-you-twisted-up-in-your-own-head face.” Y/N groaned, burying her face in her blanket. “Shut up.” Kayla popped her gum, smug as hell. “Just sayin’. You’re sitting over there all soft-eyed and daydreamy like you’re about to start singing a Jazmine Sullivan ballad. Real sitcom intro montage behavior.”

Y/N peeked out from behind the blanket, grinning despite herself. “He’s just… annoying.” “Mmhmm,” Kayla said, unconvinced. “And sweet.” Kayla’s brow rose higher. “And smart. And hot. And—ugh, whatever.” Y/N flopped back dramatically. “He’s just Joe.” “Exactly,” Kayla said, folding her arms triumphantly. “That’s the most dangerous part.” There was a beat of silence, the mood softening again.

Then Kayla added, deadpan, “Also, if I catch you sneaking off in Florence to FaceTime your boo while I’m trying to eat ravioli and make memories, I will tell your fans.” Y/N laughed and threw a travel pillow at her. “You’re the worst.” “I’m the best friend you need.” Y/N leaned her head against the window, phone still in hand, her smile soft now. Thoughtful. Her fingers itched to text Joe again. Just something simple. Something real. Wish you were here. And deep down, somewhere in the quietest part of her heart, she had a feeling he was thinking the same thing.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Joe wasn’t exactly the dramatic type. He didn’t wallow. Didn’t sit in the dark with sad playlists echoing through the speakers. That wasn’t his style. No candlelit brooding, no deep dives into moody indie ballads on Spotify. Hell, he didn’t even own a Spotify account — just playlists labeled “Gym,” “Focus,” and “Throwback Vibes” curated with clinical precision.

And yet. Four days had passed since he’d dropped Y/N off at the airport, and he was this close to snapping a clipboard in half like a rookie lineman in training camp. If one more teammate made a crack about how “Joe’s all quiet now that his girl’s gone,” someone was getting launched into a tackling dummy. Possibly two someones. Because yeah — maybe she wasn’t officially his girl. Not in the "put-a-label-on-it, meet-the-parents, matching Christmas pajamas" kind of way. But she was. She was his in all the quiet, real ways that mattered.

She was his in the way he smiled at his phone like a complete idiot every time her name popped up. His in the way her laugh replayed in his head on a loop, sneaking up in the middle of press conferences or post-practice showers. His in the way his entire house felt... off without her in it. The silence was too loud. The space too cold. She was his in the way he kept looking for her — in the kitchen, in his T-shirts, in the damn scent of that vanilla-coconut hair cream she always left on the bathroom counter.

Joe stood now at the edge of his kitchen island, a bottle of water spinning slowly between his fingers, the rhythmic thwip-thwip of plastic hitting marble the only sound in the room. The TV was on, muted — some old NBA Finals game he wasn’t watching. Steph Curry nailed a three-pointer, crowd erupting in pixelated slow-mo. Joe didn’t blink. He leaned forward, elbows on the counter, and picked up his phone again. Her name was right there — top of the thread, bold and bright. The last message she’d sent was from a couple hours ago. A picture of a pasta dish, rich and golden, with a cheeky caption: This isn’t Cincy spaghetti, but it’s hittin’. 🍝

He stared at it longer than he meant to, thumb hovering over the keyboard like it could conjure the perfect reply if he just waited long enough. Five texts were typed and deleted. A voice memo almost happened. It didn’t. Instead, he just set the phone back down and ran a hand through his hair, letting out a low, frustrated groan.

God, he missed her. And not just the easy kind of missing. Not just the want to kiss you, touch you, mess around ‘til we fall asleep in your eyeliner kind of missing. That was part of it, sure. But this was worse. Quieter. More dangerous. This was the kind of missing that crept in at night, when he rolled over and instinctively reached for her — only to find cold sheets. The kind that sucker-punched him when he poured two cups of coffee in the morning, out of habit, and realized she wasn’t there to grab hers and spike it with oat milk and cinnamon like she was mixing potions. This was the kind of missing that made him feel things he didn’t plan to feel.

He hadn’t gone into this looking for… this. Whatever this was. But now that he had it — had her — he couldn’t un-feel it. Couldn’t unknow what it felt like to come home to her in his hoodie, singing some Prince song off-key and barefoot on his hardwood floors. And he definitely couldn’t pretend that his house didn’t feel like a half-finished sentence without her in it.

He sighed again, this time heavier, and leaned his forehead into his palm. The buzz of his phone was immediate — like it could feel the weight of his longing and decided to throw him a bone.

New message from: Y/N

Still no answer? Wow. Gonna have to report this to the petty police. Also, I saw that Vogue pic again. I’m gonna start charging you for emotional damage, Joseph.

He snorted, lips twitching despite himself. The ache in his chest eased, just a little. There she was. Chaotic. Clever. Herself. He opened the message thread, fingers flying across the screen before he could stop them:

You can’t miss someone this much and still talk shit. You’re evil. I miss you.

He stared at the words, hovering. His thumb lingered over “Send” for a beat too long. Then, slowly, he backspaced. Deleted it all. What he wanted to say was something deeper. Something stupid and honest and probably way too much.

I miss you so much it’s messing with my head.I don’t know what we are, but I know I’m not tryna lose it.Lose you.

But that wasn’t his move. Not yet. So instead, he settled for something safer. Teasing. Familiar.

Answer the damn phone this time. I know you miss me back.

Send. The second the message left his phone, he exhaled. Then he waited. And wondered if she was staring at her screen the same way — thumb frozen, heart a little too loud, head a little too full of what-ifs and maybe-thens. He didn’t know where this thing was going. Didn’t know how to label it or protect it or play it cool. But he knew he’d rather be reckless with her than safe without her. And maybe… just maybe… she felt the same.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The cicadas buzzed low in the distance, their droning chorus weaving through the warm Tuscan night like a gentle lullaby. A soft breeze skimmed across the surface of the pool, setting the water’s glassy turquoise surface to shimmering ripples that danced beneath the glow of submerged lights. Above her, the Italian sky stretched wide and velvet-dark, studded with countless stars that seemed just a little closer here — brighter, somehow, as if the universe itself was leaning in. Y/N sat back in a cushioned lounge chair, one leg draped lazily over the other, the cool night air tracing goosebumps up her bare arms. A glass of red wine rested loosely in her fingers — untouched for the last ten minutes — its deep color catching the pool’s reflections like a liquid jewel. Her phone lay face down on the side table beside her, for once abandoned, no scrolling, no buzzing demands. Tonight, she wasn’t chasing distraction. She was simply… sitting. Thinking.

Thinking about everything.

The journey that had led her here — from those wild, messy early days when she was scraping for auditions and scribbling lyrics on the backs of coffee-stained scripts, to this moment: a villa in the Tuscan countryside, its ancient stone walls wrapped in the warm glow of lanterns, olive trees scenting the air like memories made tangible. The stillness of the night gave her permission to pause. To breathe. To really feel the weight of everything she’d been rushing toward for so long. Somewhere inside the villa, Kayla and Drea’s voices spilled out, sharp and playful, echoing as they argued loudly over gelato flavors — pistachio or stracciatella? The girls’ laughter rippled through the quiet night, a perfect counterpoint to the calm surrounding Y/N. The soft hum of neo-soul music spilled from a nearby speaker, a sultry tune drifting like a whisper, wrapping the space around her in smooth velvet sound.

She should have felt triumphant. She was triumphant. Italy was the first stop in a chapter she’d once only dreamed about — the first leg of a sprawling international festival circuit that could redefine her career. Her music was crossing oceans now, spilling into new cities, new cultures, new stages. She’d just wrapped a breakout season of her show, critics eating out of her palm, billboards with her name splashed across places she hadn’t even set foot in yet. She was a force — unstoppable, undeniable. But tonight… sitting here, barefoot and makeup-free, wine glass in hand, she felt quiet. Reflective. Not sad, not lonely, just still.

Her gaze dropped to the glass in her hand, the wine’s deep red swirling slowly, catching the pool’s light. Then, like a mirror, her eyes traced the water’s surface, where the stars seemed to shimmer faintly alongside her reflection. If someone had told seventeen-year-old Y/N — the girl hunched over her bathroom sink at 2AM, recording voice notes and dreaming out loud — that she’d one day be here, in a villa in Tuscany, preparing to headline international festivals, she’d have laughed right in their face. Hard.

That night, singing the national anthem at the primetime NFL game — the first time she saw Joe Burrow up close, the quarterback with the mischievous smile and ocean-blue eyes — was seared into her memory like an indelible tattoo. That night had been a spark. A flicker in the dark. And somehow, without her noticing, that flicker had grown into a slow-burning fire.

Her thoughts drifted: where she was now — headlining festivals, starring in lead roles, people screaming her lyrics back at her like prayers, stylists flying in from across the country just to braid her hair perfectly, late-night strategy calls with Carmen about press circuits in Paris, articles calling her the “it girl” of the moment. She should feel untouchable. But sitting here, under this sprawling Italian sky, she felt something else entirely. She felt human. Grounded. And maybe… a little scared. Because for all the applause and flashing lights, for all the dreams finally within reach — the thought of him still knocked the breath from her lungs. Joe.

She missed him. Not just the ache of his touch, though God, that too. She missed his presence: the way his eyes held her like she was the axis of his world, the way he listened when she ranted about stage design and lighting cues with that ridiculous intensity only artists have. The way he smelled after a shower, warm and clean and just a little like the cologne she’d secretly stolen. The way he let her pick the music on their long drives, even when she played the same Kehlani song on repeat. The way he melted under her touch but could still tease her relentlessly, making her unravel in ways she never expected.

She’d never been the type to catch feelings. She had rules, boundaries, priorities. But Joe Burrow had slipped under her skin like he was meant to be there all along. Her fingers traced the rim of the wineglass absently. “Damn you, Burrow,” she whispered, the corners of her mouth quirking up into a soft, crooked smile. The quiet was broken by the familiar buzz of her phone beside her. She glanced down.

Joe:

Still haven’t seen this so-called outfit that would make me forget my playbook.

At this point, I’m filing a missing person’s report.

Her lips curved into a grin.

Y/N:

You love the chase. Don’t act brand new.

Also... miss you. But don’t let it go to your head.

Almost instantly, the typing bubbles appeared. She took another slow sip of wine, tilting her head back to watch the stars blink above. Her heart felt just a little lighter. She’d come so far — from hungry auditions and grungy venues to film sets and world stages. But no one had warned her that home might not be a place at all. That home could be a person — with calloused hands and a quiet grin, and blue eyes that saw every part of her, the light and the shadow. And that realization? That scared her more than any crowd ever could.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The sunrise spilled across the Italian countryside like a slow-burning fire, painting the rolling hills in warm strokes of amber and blush. Golden light kissed the ancient olive trees, casting long, gentle shadows that stretched endlessly beyond the villa’s weathered stone walls. The air was cool but softened by the promise of the day, carrying faint scents of lavender and earth, a subtle reminder that somewhere nearby, vineyards were waking to the sun.

Y/N sat curled up in one of the wrought iron garden chairs, her frame wrapped in a loose knit cardigan that had slipped off one shoulder in a careless, comfortable way. She cradled a warm cup of tea in her hands, the steam swirling upward like a delicate dance in the early light. The garden around her was quiet save for the soft clink of her teaspoon tapping the ceramic rim of her cup—a rhythmic sound almost like a metronome keeping time with the peaceful morning. From her phone, a mellow tune drifted, barely registering until the unmistakable opening chords of a song she hadn’t heard in far too long began to unfurl. That rich, aching tone—the kind that sunk into your bones and refused to let go.

Prince. “Nothing Compares 2 U.”

Her lips parted slowly, a wistful smile curving her mouth as the first notes wrapped around her like an old friend. A breath caught in her throat, nostalgic and bittersweet. Without realizing it, Y/N began to sing softly, low and unhurried, the words melting into the warm morning air like a confession.

“It’s been so lonely without you here... Like a bird without a song...”

Her eyes closed, and she swayed slightly, letting the music carry her away to memories tucked deep inside—moments stolen in quiet rooms, whispered promises, and the ache of absence she hadn’t yet learned how to shake. At the top of the garden steps, Kayla leaned against the stone railing, arms crossed but still holding her phone ready. She watched her best friend with a slow, knowing blink. This wasn’t just Y/N singing Prince; she was feeling every note, every word — and that could only mean one thing. “Lord, he really got her,” Kayla muttered softly to herself, a smirk playing at her lips.

Silent and swift, she hit record, capturing the honey-soaked vocals and the delicate way Y/N moved with her tea—like the lyrics were an intimate memory she wasn’t ready to speak aloud. Without hesitation, Kayla tapped out a quick message and sent the video.

To: Joe Burrow Attached: Video of Y/N singing softly in the Italian morning

you got my girl singing Prince songs in Italy, Burrow. what kind of dick magic did you lay on her??

No more than ten seconds later, the typing bubbles blinked onto her screen.

Joe: LMAO not you spying on her like National Geographic

but also… she always sing like that in the mornings?

Kayla grinned as she typed back, her fingers flying over the keys.

Kayla: only when she’s lovesick.

congrats, ur the soundtrack now 🤷🏽‍♀️

Joe’s reply was instant, the humor and affection in his words making Kayla’s grin widen even more.

Joe: damn.

brb booking a flight.

Kayla lowered her phone, her eyes lingering on Y/N, still softly swaying with the song, her face illuminated by the golden sunrise.

“Yep,” Kayla whispered with a knowing smile. “He’s definitely got her.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N had just set her mug down gently on the wrought iron garden table, the last lingering notes of Nothing Compares 2 U still humming softly in her mind. The early sun spilled over her skin in warm, golden waves, and she stretched languidly, the subtle ache of yesterday’s rehearsals easing beneath the day’s quiet promise. She breathed in deeply, savoring the soft scent of olive trees mingled with the faint sweetness of blooming jasmine drifting from the villa’s gardens.

Her cardigan, still slipping from one shoulder, caught a gentle breeze, brushing against her bare skin. She glanced down at the steaming cup of tea she’d just finished, the warmth from the mug now only a distant memory. Just then, her phone buzzed sharply against the table’s wrought iron surface.

Incoming Message — Joe 🧡

Her lips curled into a smile before she even thought about it. That man could text her the most mundane grocery list, and somehow, she’d read it like it was poetry — every word a line from a love song only she understood. Curious, she picked up the phone, unlocking it to reveal a video message. Her own face smiled back at her from the screen. The video was of her. Just minutes earlier, outside in the garden, cardigan slipping down her shoulder, tea cradled carefully in her hands, singing softly under the early morning sun — her voice delicate and tender as it carried Prince’s heartbreaking lyrics into the air.

Beneath the video, Joe’s message was waiting.

“You look like a dream I don’t ever wanna wake up from… You singin’ Prince for me now, baby?”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, then shattered into a million pieces before sprinting off like an Olympic runner on a mission. Her jaw dropped. She blinked rapidly, startled. The quiet garden suddenly felt too still. She looked up toward the villa’s windows. No one in sight. She twisted in her chair, scanning the garden around her. The shadows beneath the trees were empty, the stone paths deserted.

“Wait—what the hell?” she muttered, eyes narrowing as suspicion bloomed. Grabbing her phone without hesitation, she tapped the screen and hit FaceTime, calling Joe immediately. The screen flickered to life, and there he was — grinning, that boyish, cocky smirk spreading across his face like he already knew he’d just scored a major point. “Hi, beautiful,” Joe greeted, chin resting casually in his hand, his voice low and syrupy with that familiar tease. “How—” Y/N’s brow furrowed. “How the hell did you get that video?” Joe raised his eyebrows innocently, eyes sparkling with mischief. “What video?”

“Joseph.” Her tone sharpened, but the corners of her mouth tugged up in amusement. “Don’t play with me. I just got it. The one of me, singing outside, tea and everything. Where did you get it?” He leaned back, arms folded behind his head, biceps flexing in that way that always made her forget her line of questioning for a second. “Let’s just say I have my sources,” he said smoothly. “You should really be careful, superstar. There are spies in your camp.” Y/N’s mouth dropped open in mock offense, the teasing edge in her voice only barely contained. “Oh, we’re playing games now?”

“I didn’t start it,” Joe replied with a lazy shrug, “but I will win.” She huffed, leaning back in her chair with a dramatic eye-roll that didn’t fool anyone—especially not herself—as a faint blush warmed her cheeks. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” “Cute?” Joe scoffed, clearly unimpressed with the compliment. “That’s all I get after that poetic-ass message?” “And sneaky,” she shot back, biting her lip to keep from smiling too hard. Joe’s grin widened, lighting up his face like he’d just won the championship. “You know you love it.”

Y/N tilted her phone slightly so he could catch her sly smirk now. “I’m going to find out who sent it.” “No you won’t.” “Yes I will.” “Good luck with that, baby.” Their laughter mingled across the line, carrying an easy warmth that made the miles between them shrink, if only for a moment.

Y/N tucked the phone under her chin and looked once more out across the sun-drenched garden. The breeze lifted the loose strands of her hair, and she realized maybe she didn’t mind so much being caught in this game after all. Especially if it meant moments like these—where distance could never touch what was quietly growing between them.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Joe was still grinning, that easy, lopsided smile—the one that made it abundantly clear he was enjoying this way too much. The kind of smile that made her heart trip over itself and her cheeks betray her with an immediate, fiery flush. “You looked real cute singing your heart out like that,” he said, his voice dropping low and teasing, eyes locked on hers through the screen as if he could reach right through the distance. Y/N groaned, the warmth flooding her cheeks like a spotlight. Without thinking, she dropped her head into her hands, fingers splayed across her face as if she could shield herself from the charming devil on the other end. “Oh my God, why are you like this?” she muttered, voice muffled by her palms.

A few seconds later, she peeked through the cracks between her fingers just long enough to catch him leaning closer to his phone, his smirk softening into something warmer—fond, boyish, like he was seeing her in a way no one else ever had. It made her breath hitch, unexpectedly vulnerable. “No, don’t hide now,” Joe murmured, his tone melting into something tender but still teasing. “Come on—you know I love seeing you blush.” Y/N let out a strangled little laugh that caught in her throat, burying her face even deeper in her palms before finally throwing her head back with a dramatic sigh, surrendering to the moment. “I’m hanging up,” she said, though the protest was half-hearted at best.

“No you’re not,” Joe said calmly, reclining into his chair like he was confident in knowing exactly how she’d respond before she even moved. She peeked up again, shooting him her best glare—one that lacked any real heat, only teasing irritation. “You’re such a menace.” “Only for you,” Joe shot back, his grin softening just a touch, almost shy now. “Kinda love seeing you all flustered over me.” Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re lucky I like you.” “I’m lucky you love me,” he said, and that sentence landed between them with a quiet weight that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

That shut her up. For a moment, the screen was filled only with their faces, and the silence stretched out—just long enough to say everything they hadn’t dared voice before. She didn’t correct him, didn’t challenge it. Her smile grew smaller, more tentative, and she bit into her bottom lip like she was trying to contain the butterflies fluttering wildly in her chest. Joe’s gaze never wavered; he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that made sense, the gravity that held him steady no matter how far apart they were.

Y/N exhaled softly, tucking a loose twist of hair behind her ear—a nervous habit she hadn’t realized she’d picked up since he came into her life. “You really gonna make me miss you more, huh?” Without hesitation, Joe nodded, the glint in his eyes full of mischief and affection. “That’s the plan.” She laughed, the sound light and warm in the quiet morning air. “Well, congratulations. You’re winning.” “Good,” he said, voice low. “Because I’m not planning on losing you anytime soon.” Their eyes locked for a heartbeat longer before Y/N gave him one last teasing grin. “Don’t get cocky, Burrow.” He chuckled, that deep, infectious laugh she could never get enough of. “No promises.” And with that, the line finally went quiet, leaving Y/N holding her phone a little too close, heart pounding a little too fast, and the morning sun shining a little too brightly on the girl who was starting to realize some things were worth the risk—even across oceans and time zones.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

“Y/N!” Kayla’s voice rang out sharp and commanding from upstairs, slicing through the quiet morning air like a spotlight. “We gotta go, babe! Get dressed—glam is in twenty!” Y/N leaned slightly forward from her seat on the garden patio, shading her eyes against the gentle sunlight, and called back just loud enough to be heard over the distant hum of cicadas. “I hear you!”

She let out a soft, reluctant sigh and turned her attention back to the glowing screen of her phone. Joe’s amused grin still filled the display, that easy smirk that made her heart flutter even from miles away. “Looks like I gotta go,” she murmured, voice playful but tinged with the slight anxiety that came with the day’s mounting to-dos. “Apparently, I’m about to get beaten with a flat iron if I don’t put clothes on.” Joe chuckled softly, his voice smooth and lazy through the speaker, perfectly timed with the slow exhale of morning warmth around her. “Can’t say I’d blame her. I’ve seen how long you take.”

“Excuse you—beauty takes time,” she shot back, voice mock-indignant but laced with affection. “I never argued. I could watch you all day.” Then, without warning, the unmistakable soft shutter click echoed through her ears. Y/N froze mid-sip of her tea, eyes narrowing instantly as suspicion prickled at her skin. The small notification popped up at the top of her screen like a neon sign flashing Screenshot Taken. “Joe…” Her voice dropped low, a mix of warning and teasing danger threading through every syllable. “Did you just take a screenshot of me?”

On the other end, Joe reclined casually, the cocky little smirk firmly in place, one arm lazily slung behind his head like he was the picture of innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She squinted into the camera lens, sitting up straighter now as the early Italian sun poured over her. It caught the warm honey-brown glow of her skin, turning her brown eyes into molten pools of chocolate—rich, deep, impossible to look away from. And Joe? He was absolutely mesmerized. Of course he had taken the screenshot. “Joseph.” Her tone sharpened into a playful warning now, the kind you give to someone you adore just enough to keep them on their toes.

“I’ve done nothing,” he protested with exaggerated innocence. “No need to argue when I’m just admiring beauty.” “Delete it,” she demanded, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “Nope.” “You are such a menace.” Joe laughed—wide, unbothered, completely delighted by the little game they played back and forth. “And yet, you keep calling me.” Y/N let out a resigned huff, rolling her eyes even as a genuine smile threatened to break free. “You better pray it doesn’t end up as my contact photo for you.” “I hope it does,” he said, voice dripping with mischief. “You’re a sick man,” she muttered, shaking her head but still grinning. Joe’s grin stretched wider, reveling in the moment. “Only for you.”

Before Y/N could respond, Kayla appeared in the doorway, dressed in a soft robe and wielding a hot comb like a weapon of glam warfare. She gave Y/N the look—a silent but unmistakable reminder that time was officially up. “Wrap it up, Romeo,” Kayla deadpanned, voice dry but affectionate. “Time for glam.” Y/N glanced back at Joe’s face on the screen one last time, giving him a soft, lingering smile that held everything she couldn’t say out loud. “Pray for me,” she murmured. “Always,” Joe replied, his voice steady and warm, the kind of promise that wrapped around her heart like a lifeline. Then the screen went black, leaving Y/N with the fading glow of the morning and the echo of a connection that felt just a little more real than distance should allow.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Back inside the villa, the atmosphere shifted from the tranquil calm of the garden to a buzzing hive of last-minute preparation. The soft clatter of hangers being arranged, the sharp snap of makeup brushes tapping palettes, and the hum of hushed conversations filled the air like a symphony of controlled chaos. Y/N sat comfortably on the plush, velvet couch nestled near the large window, a glass of water spinning lazily between her fingers as her thoughts drifted back to the video Joe had somehow gotten of her singing Prince by the pool.

She watched the sunlight flicker over the polished marble floor, momentarily caught in the way the light softened the edges of the room. Her gaze flicked toward Kayla, who was absorbed in organizing a small mountain of carefully selected outfit pieces sprawled across the nearby table. Kayla’s hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, tendrils of curls escaping and framing her face as she hummed softly—a private melody that seemed to match the rhythm of her focused movements.

A smirk tugged at Y/N’s lips as she set her glass down on the low table with a gentle clink. She looked Kayla squarely in the eyes and arched an eyebrow. “Okay, real talk,” Y/N said, her voice casual but laced with a teasing edge. “Did you record me by the pool? And then—don’t deny it—send that video to Joe?” Kayla froze for a split second, eyes going wide with mock innocence. She raised her hands in exaggerated surrender, her voice dripping with playful guilt. “Me? No way.” She smiled, holding up a finger for emphasis. “I swear on my mother’s pineapple upside down cake—that sacred dessert—that I did not record you. And definitely didn’t send anything to Joe. That’s all on him. His mess.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, the corner of her mouth twitching with suspicion. She crossed her arms, ready to corner the culprit. “You’re way too quick with those denials, Kay.” Kayla just shrugged, a devilish grin curling at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe so. But I’m a professional. Can’t be caught spying on my girl—it’s too obvious. Someone had to keep an eye on you, though. You get too cute when you think no one’s watching.” Y/N laughed, shaking her head in amusement. “You’re a terrible liar.” Kayla winked, unabashed. “And you’re too cute to actually suspect me.”

Their laughter mingled easily with the ongoing symphony of the villa—the faint clatter of hangers being dragged across racks, the swish of fabric, and the occasional bursts of lighthearted chatter between the stylists and assistants bustling about. The air was thick with the scent of hairspray, citrusy perfume, and the lingering aroma of fresh espresso.

For a moment, the noise and rush seemed to soften, wrapped around the quiet thread of their easy camaraderie. It was a gentle reminder to Y/N of the life she had carved out—solid, familiar, and full of people who had her back—even as the whirlwind of the upcoming international tour loomed ahead, threatening to sweep her up in its dizzying spin. Kayla leaned closer, lowering her voice as she tapped the last few items into neat piles. “You okay, though? You’ve been kinda quiet today. Besides the Prince serenade earlier.”

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers tracing the rim of her empty glass. “Yeah. Just... thinking. About everything. This whole crazy ride. And, well… Joe.” Kayla nodded knowingly. “He’s got you good. But honestly, who wouldn’t be?” Y/N laughed again, the sound warm and real. “Yeah, well. I’m definitely not complaining.” And as the villa buzzed around them, with voices rising and falling like waves, Y/N allowed herself to savor the moment—a brief pause before the storm of glitz, glamour, and life on the road swept her back up.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The air backstage at the festival buzzed with a unique energy—an electric mix of excitement, anticipation, and just a whisper of nerves that clung to Y/N like a second skin. The hum of the crowd beyond the heavy black curtains was a constant reminder that the moment she’d been working toward for years was only seconds away. The muffled roar of fans, the distant beat of music from other acts, and the occasional shout from crew members created a low symphony of chaos, grounding her in reality while her mind raced in a thousand directions.

Y/N sat perched on a folding chair, her posture poised but tense. Her fingers tapped lightly and rhythmically against her thigh, an unconscious attempt to steady the flutter deep in her chest. She stared at the scuffed wooden floor beneath her, willing her thoughts to slow, to quiet. The swirl of adrenaline made her stomach twist into knots, and the cool metal of the chair’s frame pressed against her back was the only physical anchor she had.

From across the room, Carmen watched quietly, her sharp eyes never missing the subtle signs—the tightening of Y/N’s jaw, the quickening bounce of her foot, the way her breathing shifted ever so slightly. Carmen had been in this position countless times herself, and she knew that nervous energy was not a sign of weakness but a sign that the stakes were real.

Without a word, Carmen slipped her phone from her pocket and quickly dialed. She held the device to her ear, her voice lowered as the call connected. “Hey Joe,” she said softly, a note of concern threading through her usual confident tone. “Y/N’s a little on edge. She’s nervous about going on. Think you could talk to her for a minute? I think hearing your voice might calm her down.” There was a pause on the other end—then Joe’s warm, steady voice rumbled through the line. “Of course. Hand her the phone, Carmen. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Moments later, Carmen approached Y/N with a small smile, holding out the phone. “Here,” she said gently, “Joe wants to say hi.” Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected gesture. She took the phone, her fingers trembling just slightly as Joe’s familiar voice flowed through the speaker, smooth and reassuring. “Hey, superstar,” Joe said, his tone playful yet sincere, instantly cutting through the nervous tension that had wrapped itself around her heart.

A small, genuine smile tugged at Y/N’s lips, her eyes softening as she replied simply, “Joe.” “Just wanted to remind you,” he continued, voice low and steady, “you’ve got this. You’re gonna light that stage on fire tonight.” The warmth in his words was like a balm, seeping into her chest and easing the knot of anxiety. She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her, the connection between them a tether to calm. “Thanks. I really needed that.”

“Anytime,” Joe said, the faintest edge of a grin in his voice. “Now go out there and show them exactly why you’re the best.” Y/N squeezed the phone tighter, feeling a flicker of courage bloom inside her. The weight in her chest shifted, lightened by the sound of his voice—the quiet confidence he always seemed to carry with him. She glanced up, her eyes meeting Carmen’s encouraging smile. The crowd beyond the curtains was no longer a looming storm but a sea of possibilities. Taking a deep breath, Y/N stood, the nerves settling into a steady pulse of excitement. With the phone still in hand, she whispered, “Okay. Let’s do this.” And with that, she stepped toward the stage, ready to own the night and everything it promised.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N stepped off the stage, her chest still rising and falling with the rhythm of her performance, every nerve in her body lit like a fuse. The crowd’s cheers were still roaring behind her, not distant yet, still wrapping around her like a second skin—wild, euphoric, and real. The lights, the smoke, the pulse of the bass—it was all still crashing through her veins like a tidal wave. She had done it. They had done it.

Her dancers descended with her, some with arms flung around each other’s shoulders, others twirling in celebration. At the front of the pack was Kayla, radiant even under a sheen of sweat, curls half-fallen out of her updo but eyes glittering with pride. “Girl, you smashed that shit!” Kayla shouted, her voice a cocktail of triumph and exhaustion, breathless and elated.

Y/N laughed, grabbing Kayla’s hand and spinning her briefly in a giddy circle before letting go, both of them stumbling from the rush. “We did that. Couldn’t have done it without you hyping me through that last chorus. My lungs were about to tap out.” Kayla smirked, pressing a towel to her face. “Baby, I could see the fire in your eyes from the wings. You were levitating.”

Their boots clattered against the metal ramp as they moved further backstage, where crew members buzzed around them—wrangling cords, directing the next performers, giving brief, practiced nods to acknowledge the headliner who had just lit the entire festival on fire. Y/N’s in-ear monitors dangled from one hand, her other gripping a chilled bottle of water someone had passed her. She hadn’t even opened it yet. She was still too caught in the moment to care about anything as mundane as hydration.

Then came Carmen. Sharp as ever, heels clicking against the floor, her fitted all-black wardrobe untouched by sweat, not a hair out of place. She moved like a woman on a mission—because she always was. But this time, there was something behind her smile. Something more than business. “Y/N,” Carmen said, stepping directly into her path. Her voice was warm, but her expression carried the weight of purpose. “You’ve got some people waiting. They want to meet you.” Y/N blinked, her post-performance haze giving way to curiosity. She lowered the water bottle slowly, her brow rising. “Wait—who?” Carmen didn’t answer immediately. She simply tilted her head toward the hallway leading deeper into the green room wing, a subtle smirk tugging at her lips. “Come find out.”

Kayla, ever the nosy best friend, perked up. “Is it press? Labels? Oh my God—Beyoncé’s not here, right? Because I’m not mentally ready for that.” Y/N laughed, the thought alone sending a jolt through her system. “Stop. I’ll faint.” “Please do,” Kayla shot back. “Let me catch it on video. I need content for the group chat.” Carmen rolled her eyes with a barely concealed smile, then stepped aside and gestured for Y/N to follow. “Come on, superstar. Don’t keep people waiting.” Still winded, still buzzing, Y/N exchanged a quick glance with Kayla—half excitement, half nerves—and then handed off her water bottle, adjusted the hem of her custom stage outfit, and followed Carmen down the hall.

The backstage hallway was quieter, cooler, a sharp contrast to the thumping adrenaline-fueled chaos of the stage. Her boots tapped against the linoleum, and her heart pounded with every step. Her mind raced through possibilities—executives, producers, maybe someone from Vogue or Rolling Stone. She’d known important people would be here, but the way Carmen had said “some people” made her gut twist in the best kind of way. They turned a corner. Carmen slowed, then stopped in front of a black door marked PRIVATE – TALENT ONLY. She didn’t knock. She just turned back to Y/N, face composed, eyes soft. “They’re in there,” she said simply. “And you’re gonna want to fix your lipstick.”

Y/N raised both brows. “What the hell does that mean?” Carmen didn’t answer. She just pushed open the door. The moment Y/N stepped inside, her breath caught in her throat. There were indeed people inside—but one in particular made her entire world pause.

Standing in a casually relaxed formation, as though they hadn't just tilted the balance of the room with their sheer presence, were Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc—living legends of Formula 1. The glow of the overhead lights caught on Lewis’s signature jewelry and the subtle shimmer of Charles’s tailored jacket. Beside Charles stood Alexandra St-Mleux, her poise as elegant as ever, with a glimmer in her eye that made her seem both grounded and otherworldly. Known widely for her style and influential presence in the music and lifestyle space, Alexandra was unmistakable—and unmistakably thrilled.

The moment her gaze landed on Y/N, her face lit up like a sunrise. “Oh my God, Y/N! I’m such a huge fan!” she said, stepping forward, her voice a perfect blend of excitement and admiration. Her smile was infectious, radiant. Caught off guard by the unexpected praise, Y/N blinked before her usual stage confidence melted into something softer, more personal. “Thank you,” she said, the words a little breathless. “It means so much, really.”

Lewis and Charles both offered easy, genuine smiles, their body language relaxed but respectful. Lewis nodded, his voice warm and easy. “I’ve been listening to your latest album on repeat—it’s amazing. Seriously, you’ve got a real talent.” Charles grinned, stepping in with his own praise. “Same here. Your music has this energy that just sticks with you. It’s the perfect soundtrack.” Kayla’s jaw practically dropped, eyes huge as she leaned toward Y/N, whispering in disbelief, “Wait—Lewis Hamilton just said he’s a fan of your music. THE Lewis Hamilton.”

Y/N chuckled softly, a blush creeping over her cheeks. “Yeah, I’m kind of pinching myself right now.” Kayla’s face lit up like a kid meeting their hero. She nearly bounced on her heels, her voice barely under control. “This is insane! You’re literally standing with two of the biggest names in Formula 1, and they know your songs!” The group laughed together, the atmosphere warm and light. Phones emerged and photos were taken—Lewis striking a charismatic pose, Charles throwing a peace sign, Alexandra wrapping an arm around Y/N as Kayla held up the phone. The flash caught their laughter in frozen brilliance.

Lewis and Charles both offered easy, genuine smiles, their body language relaxed but respectful. “Great show out there,” Lewis added with a nod, hands tucked casually in his jacket pockets. “You’ve got some serious presence.” Y/N grinned, her nerves giving way to a comfortable warmth. Kayla stepped forward, shaking hands with each of them, and soon they were laughing together as if they’d all known one another longer than a few minutes. 

Y/N signed a few posters and programs, her pen gliding with practiced ease. The air around them buzzed with a low, happy energy, a perfect mix of fandom, mutual respect, and backstage thrill. Then Alexandra leaned in with a teasing grin, her tone playful but full of intrigue. “Also… I have to say—” she glanced sideways at Charles with a smirk, “—you and Joe? Such a hot couple. The chemistry is unreal.” Y/N froze for a beat, then laughed, cheeks warming with a rosy flush. “Thank you…” she said, ducking her head a little. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Kayla, never one to let a moment like this pass, nudged her with an elbow and leaned in to whisper just loud enough for Alexandra to hear, “Girl, you’re glowing. She got you blushing in front of royalty.” Y/N rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. The moment hung suspended in the air, light and genuine.

A few feet back, Layla, their ever-present videographer, was quietly filming the interaction. Her lens moved smoothly, unobtrusively, capturing the laughs, the subtle looks, the sparkle in everyone’s eyes. From the first moment Y/N had stepped into the hallway to the last photo with Charles and Lewis, she hadn’t missed a beat.

Eventually, the conversation began to wind down, a soft lull falling over the group like the final notes of a ballad. Y/N turned to them all, sincerity written across her features. “Thank you all for coming—and for the support. It really… it really makes this whole journey feel even more special.” Lewis offered a warm, brotherly nod. “Looking forward to more great moments from you. You’ve got something rare.” “Seriously,” Charles added, clapping her shoulder lightly. “Don’t slow down. You’re onto something.” “Let’s keep in touch,” Alexandra said with a wink, pulling Y/N into a final hug before stepping back beside Charles.

The group shared one last laugh—light, easy, full of unspoken understanding—before Y/N and Kayla began to make their way back toward the heart of the tour. The hallway felt different now, more alive, as if the walls had absorbed some of the magic and were humming it back.

Backstage buzzed with movement, but for Y/N and Kayla, time felt like it had softened around them, every step echoing with the beat of possibility. “Okay,” Kayla said, still smiling, “that was insane.” Y/N exhaled a laugh. “Unreal. Completely surreal.” Cameras were still rolling. Hearts were still full. And the night was far from over.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Back on the bus, Y/N sank slowly into the plush leather couch, letting the day’s whirlwind finally catch up with her. The soft hum of the engine vibrated beneath her, a steady, comforting pulse that contrasted the adrenaline still crackling faintly in her veins. She stretched out, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of Joe’s signature Bengals hoodie—soft, oversized, and just the right amount of cozy. She’d stealthily “borrowed” it earlier, and now it felt like a warm shield against the cool evening creeping in through the tinted windows.

Kayla flopped down beside her with a dramatic sigh, her eyes wide and sparkling, as if still reliving the magic that had unfolded mere hours ago. “I swear,” she said, shaking her head with a grin, “that backstage moment with Lewis and Charles is going to haunt my dreams forever. I’m never going to get over it.”

Y/N smiled, her gaze drifting out the window to the horizon where the sun was dipping low, painting the sky in streaks of gold and soft pink that seemed almost unreal. The festival grounds behind them grew smaller, swallowed by the shadows of evening. The city lights would flicker on soon, but for now, the moment was theirs—quiet, warm, and shimmering with possibility.

Their phones buzzed almost incessantly. Y/N glanced down at her screen to see the flood of notifications. Her team had already posted a slew of photos from her set—dynamic shots capturing her onstage, the crowd roaring behind her, and then the candid moments with the F1 legends. The likes and comments were pouring in, a tidal wave of support and excitement from fans all over the world.

Kayla leaned in, scrolling through the comments with a wide smile. “Look at this! People are losing their minds over your backstage photos. ‘Queen of the night,’ ‘Y/N with the F1 gods,’ ‘Legendary collab!’” She giggled. “You’ve officially broken the internet.” Y/N laughed softly, the glow of the screen reflecting in her eyes. “I still can’t believe that happened. I mean, Lewis Hamilton, Kayla. Lewis Hamilton told me he’s a fan.” Kayla’s grin turned mischievous, nudging her shoulder. “And you just stood there like it was no big deal? Please, you were probably fangirling inside.” Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the warmth spreading through her. “I was trying to keep it together. Barely succeeded.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as the bus rolled steadily away from the venue, the hum of wheels on asphalt blending with the fading sounds of the festival behind them. Then, breaking the calm, Y/N’s voice softened. “I should call Joe.” Kayla’s grin instantly widened, a playful sparkle in her eyes. “Ohhhh, so now you’re finally admitting you miss him, huh?” Y/N shot her a mock glare, but the smile tugging at her lips was genuine. “Shut up. You know I’ve been texting him nonstop all day.” Kayla laughed, shaking her head. “I can’t wait to see his reaction when he sees those photos. You with Lewis Hamilton? He’s going to roast you for sure.” Y/N’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and affection. “Yeah, well, I’m ready for whatever sass he throws my way. I miss him.” The words felt like a whisper between them, carrying the weight of late nights and early mornings, of missed moments and shared dreams.

With a steadying breath, Y/N pulled her phone into her hands, thumbs hovering over the screen for a second before she hit dial. The line rang once, twice, and then—The screen flickered to life, casting a soft glow across the dimmed space where Y/N sat, wrapped comfortably in Joe’s oversized Bengals hoodie. His face appeared, framed by the warm, golden light of his room. Behind him, the gentle flicker of a television screen provided a muted soundtrack—some late-night livestream or highlight reel he’d been watching while waiting to hear from her. His eyes immediately locked onto hers, and a grin slowly spread across his face, wide and genuine, like a lighthouse cutting through a dark sea.

“Damn, you killed it out there,” Joe said, his voice low and smooth, thick with pride and a hint of awe. “I watched the whole set. That ‘Lip Locked’ routine? Absolute fire. You had the crowd in the palm of your hand the entire time.” Y/N felt her cheeks warm at the compliment, her smile softening into something tender. “Thanks, Joe. That means a lot coming from you.”

Behind her, Kayla’s voice suddenly burst through the quiet, bright and high-pitched with excitement. “Girl, did you see who came backstage? You won’t believe it!” Joe’s brow lifted in curiosity, a teasing edge threading into his tone. “Who now? Spill it.”

Y/N glanced back over her shoulder, catching Kayla’s eager nod. “You won’t believe it — Lewis Hamilton, Charles Leclerc, and Alexandra St-Mleux were hanging out with me and the crew.”

There was a beat of silence on the screen, then Joe’s eyes widened, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a smirk dripping with playful disbelief. “So, you were rubbing shoulders with F1 royalty and didn’t tell me? I’m officially offended.” Y/N laughed, shaking her head, a sparkle in her eyes. “I was too busy being starstruck to think straight. You should’ve seen Kayla—she was absolutely losing it.”

Joe chuckled, the sound warm and easy through the speakers. “I’m just glad you didn’t break a nail or get too distracted. Need my girl focused when she’s on stage.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N gave him a mock glare. “Always the protector.” They shared a smile that lingered longer than it should have, a moment suspended between them—part tenderness, part playful teasing, and wholly theirs. It was a reminder that no matter how chaotic their worlds got, no matter the miles or madness that separated them, this connection remained their constant.

For a few seconds, neither spoke. The quiet hum of the bus and the faint background noise from Joe’s room mingled, creating a soft symphony of familiarity. Finally, Joe’s voice cut through the silence again, gentler this time. “I missed you tonight.” Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her smile deepening. “I missed you too.” They lingered in that fragile space, their eyes locked through the screen, the distance shrinking with every heartbeat, every word, every shared glance. And somewhere in the quiet, between the fading light outside and the glow of their devices, the world seemed just a little smaller.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N sat on the edge of the stage, legs crossed loosely, fingers absently twisting the microphone cord as she adjusted the mic in her hand. Her boho twists were piled high on top of her head, secured with a simple claw clip, stray curls escaping here and there, framing her face softly. The venue was vast—an iconic London space that had hosted legends before her—and the air inside was thick with a cocktail of nerves and excitement that made her pulse quicken. Another city, another crowd to win over, another night to prove herself. Yet beneath the buzz of adrenaline, something felt off.

Her phone lay silent beside her—no familiar buzz, no playful ping. Joe hadn’t texted her all day. She tried to brush it off. He’d mentioned the Bengals had press commitments and team meetings, busy days that demanded his full attention. Still, the silence tugged at her a little harder than she wanted to admit. She was used to those random check-ins—his dry, teasing texts that made her smile when she least expected it, or the occasional gym selfie where he “accidentally” looked way too good. But today? Nothing.

“Okay, five minutes and then we’re running it from the top!” her sound engineer called, his voice snapping her back to reality. Y/N stood and stretched, feeling the familiar thrill pulse in her veins as she walked toward center stage. Kayla stretched beside her, a reassuring presence in the dim light.

“You good?” Kayla asked, nudging her hip playfully. “Yeah,” Y/N replied, voice distracted, eyes distant. “Just tired. Thinking about the show.” Kayla smirked knowingly. “Or maybe thinking about Joe.” Y/N side-eyed her, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t start.” But Kayla only laughed, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “Okay, okay. Focus mode. Let’s go.”

What Y/N didn’t know, was that just beyond the dark edge of the stage—hidden from the crowd and from her view—stood Carmen. And beside her, cloaked in a black hoodie and jeans, hood pulled low and hands tucked deep into his pockets, was Joe himself. He watched quietly, arms crossed, a barely-there smile playing at the corner of his lips as Y/N slipped into her zone. Here, under the lights and surrounded by the hum of equipment and anticipation, she was in her element—focused, commanding, magnetic. Even during soundcheck, she had a presence that drew every eye in the room, and his, above all. “She has no clue?” Joe whispered to Carmen, voice low and filled with amusement. “None,” Carmen replied with a smirk. “You better not ruin it. Let her cook for a second.”

Onstage, the music shifted, and Aaliyah’s “I Care 4 U” began to float through the speakers—warm, nostalgic, and soft. Y/N turned to Kayla with a mischievous grin. “You ready?” “Oh God,” Kayla laughed, already stepping back. “Don’t you—” Too late. Y/N strutted forward with deliberate slowness, lips curled into a mock sultry smirk. She bent low, swung her hips exaggeratedly, and gave Kayla the most ridiculous, over-the-top lap dance imaginable—all in pure chaotic, best-friend fun.

Kayla howled with laughter, clutching her face in mock horror. “Okay, I’m calling HR—this is harassment!” They were still cracking up when Carmen called sharply, “Y/N!” Y/N stood up straight, brushing tears of laughter from her eyes. “Yes?” Carmen didn’t answer directly but simply stepped aside—and there, framed in the shadows, stood Joe.

His signature cool was undeniable: arms crossed over his chest, the hoodie still pulled over his head. But nothing could hide those piercing blue eyes, sparkling with warmth and mischief. Y/N blinked, mouth slightly agape, as if her brain was struggling to process the scene before her. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she breathed. Kayla erupted, screaming at the top of her lungs, “SURPRISE, BITCH!” before bolting backstage like she’d just pulled the best prank in history.

Y/N still stood frozen, disbelief warring with joy. “Wait… are you real?” Joe’s grin deepened. “C’mere and find out.” She didn’t hesitate. Instinct took over as she ran into his arms, wrapping them around his neck while he lifted her easily off the ground. The world shrank to the two of them, hearts pounding in sync. “You flew here?” she asked softly, breath warm against his shoulder. “Kayla and Carmen told me you were insufferable without me,” Joe replied with a smirk.

“I was not—” Joe pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, the playful challenge shining there. “You missed me.” Y/N rolled her eyes but her smile betrayed her. “Whatever.” He leaned in, brushing his lips gently against her cheek, whispering just near her ear, “Admit it.” She swallowed hard, finally muttering, “I missed you.” Her face buried in the soft fabric of his hoodie. “But you’re still in trouble for not texting me all day.” “I had a flight to catch. Plus… payback for you torturing me the other night with those back-camera FaceTimes.” Y/N swatted playfully at his chest, her smile so wide it hurt. The noise of the venue faded into nothingness, replaced by the quiet hum of shared warmth and closeness. London just got a whole lot better.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Back on the tour bus, the atmosphere had shifted completely—gone was the restless energy of the day, replaced by something softer, warmer. Y/N led Joe by the hand, their fingers laced tight, his palm solid and grounding in hers. She tugged him up the narrow steps, their footsteps echoing softly in the cramped space. The hallway was tight, lined with polished wood and dim LED lights that glowed a soothing amber.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she smiled, cheeks still sore from smiling earlier, heart still racing from the surprise. But now that he was actually here, standing beside her, she was determined not to let him slip away. At last, they reached the lounge area at the back of the bus—an inviting nook filled with a plush, cream-colored couch and a scattering of pillows that looked like they’d been fluffed just for moments like this.

Y/N stopped abruptly and pointed dramatically at the couch. “Sit.” Joe raised one amused eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin. “Bossy, aren’t we?” “Cuddles,” she shot back, already tugging off her sneakers, letting them fall carelessly onto the floor. “Non-negotiable. That’s the price for popping up on me like that.” He chuckled and dropped down onto the couch, arms opening wide as she eased herself in, curling against his chest like she belonged there—which, honestly, at this point, she absolutely did.

Wrapped up in the soft fabric of his hoodie and the warmth of his body, Y/N let out a contented sigh. Joe shifted, one hand smoothing slow, gentle circles up and down her back. His scent—woodsy, clean, a hint of cologne she’d long since memorized—was a balm, familiar and safe. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, murmuring into the strands of her hair, “So… how much did you miss me?” Y/N lifted her head just enough to shoot him a pointed glare, catching the smug tilt of his mouth as he waited for her answer. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” “That face. That ‘I know I’m missed and adored’ face.” He grinned wider, clearly basking in the moment. “I am, though.” She narrowed her eyes, then without warning, pinched his side hard. “Hey!” he yelped, flinching and laughing. “Violent.” “Dick,” she shot back. He looked down at her with a goofy, almost adoring smile, as if she were the luckiest woman alive. “You missed me so bad you were slow dancing to Aaliyah on stage.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face into his chest, cheeks flushing. “Kayla’s fault. She totally set me up for that.” “Nah,” he said with a playful shake of his head. “I think that was all you.” She sighed again, curling even closer, the warmth between them like a safe harbor. “Shut up and cuddle me, Joseph.” He laughed softly, pulling her tighter against him, fingers threading gently through the coils of her twists as the steady hum of the moving bus became a soothing backdrop—a rhythmic pulse that matched the rise and fall of his breathing.

“You got it, baby,” he whispered. “All the cuddles you want.” Y/N lay nestled against Joe’s chest, the weight of the day melting away as the gentle motion of the bus rocked them. It was the kind of peace she hadn’t felt in days—maybe weeks. Being back in his arms was surreal, like a dream she never wanted to wake up from. She still couldn’t quite believe it.

He had flown across the ocean. For her. No warning. No text ahead of time. Just showed up—standing there with that smug smirk and those bright blue eyes that always made her feel like home and chaos all at once.

After a long moment, Joe’s voice cut through the quiet, low and tender, vibrating against her skin. “You okay?” She nodded slowly, eyes closed, clinging to his warmth. “I just… I can’t believe you’re really here.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Told you I’d make time for you.” Her heart fluttered. She closed her eyes again, savoring the simple truth of his presence.

But then—“You know you still have to finish soundcheck, right?” he murmured, voice laced with amusement. Y/N groaned dramatically, burying her face deeper into his hoodie. “Why would you say that to me right now?” “Because I’m responsible,” he said, voice smug. “Unlike someone who was giving fake lap dances when she was supposed to be testing mic levels.” She looked up at him, feigning a scowl but unable to hold back a smile. “You sound jealous.”

“I am,” he said, deadpan. “You’ve got no business being that fine on stage and giving that energy to anyone but me.” Her lips curled into a slow smile despite the groan. “Fine. I’ll finish soundcheck. But only because you flew thousands of miles to guilt-trip me about it.” Joe leaned in and kissed her slowly, teasingly, like he had all the time in the world. “Nah,” he whispered, voice thick with affection. “Just wanna see you shine.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Back on stage, Y/N slipped seamlessly back into professional mode, her movements sharp and deliberate as if nothing could break her focus. But beneath that polished exterior, there was an invisible tether pulling at her attention—an almost magnetic string anchored to where Joe stood just beyond the stage lights. No matter how hard she tried to lose herself in the music, her skin prickled with awareness, a quiet pulse echoing the fact that he was there. It was like an internal compass, guiding her senses toward him even when her eyes didn’t.

Every time she hit a note or spun across the floor, she could feel it—his gaze locked on her, intense and unblinking, like a private spotlight cutting through the haze of the crowd. It wasn’t just the usual stage nerves or adrenaline; it was something deeper, a connection she couldn’t shake.

From the sidelines, the lighting crew called out adjustments, their voices crackling faintly through the monitors. Carmen leaned in, whispering a few quick notes about a shift in the spotlight and the timing of the next cue. Y/N nodded sharply, already recalibrating her performance mid-flow. She executed the changes with the precision of a seasoned pro, smoothing out every transition with grace and control. But still, beneath all the control, her mind kept drifting—just a fraction—to where Joe stood, waiting. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the moment ended. “Alright, we’re good,” came the call from the stage manager, cutting through the lingering hum of the monitors.

Something inside Y/N snapped—like a coil releasing its tension. The tether pulled taut and then snapped her fully back into reality and action. With a fluid motion, she yanked off her mic pack and slid the in-ear monitors out of her ears, the quiet rush filling her ears instantly. “I’ll be back,” she said, voice low but firm, nodding toward Carmen who gave her a knowing smile. Without waiting for more, Y/N stepped off the stage, her footsteps light but purposeful.

Joe barely had time to process what was happening before she was at his side. One second he was standing alone in the dim hallway, and the next her hand was in his—fingers weaving together like they were always meant to fit. She pulled him forward with surprising strength and intent, guiding him away from the buzz of the venue, away from the noise and heat, and straight toward the calm refuge of the tour bus. “Someone’s in a hurry,” Joe teased, his voice teasing but edged with something warmer.

Y/N didn’t answer—not with words. She didn’t have to. Once inside the quiet cocoon of the bus, she locked the door with one hand, then turned swiftly, her eyes darkening with intent. With a gentle push, she guided Joe down into the nearest seat, her other hand steady on his shoulder. He sank in willingly, watching her with that lazy, amused smirk—an expression that always made her want to upend his cool.

Without hesitation, she climbed into his lap, settling her knees on either side of his thighs. Her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, pulling him closer, bridging the space between them like a promise. “You have no idea how hard it was to focus with you standing there,” she whispered, voice low, charged with an honesty that made the air between them crackle.

Joe opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off before he could speak. She leaned in, lips brushing against his, slow and teasing at first—testing, tasting. Then the kiss deepened, heat pooling between them and igniting like wildfire. Her fingers tangled in his hair, soft and insistent, while his hands found her hips, gripping tightly, as if holding on to something precious that had been missing far too long. “Mmh,” Joe murmured, his voice muffled against her mouth. “Is this what I get for flying halfway across the world?” Y/N pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her smirk full of mischief and warmth. “This is the bare minimum of what you get,” she said, voice playful but sure. And then, without hesitation, she kissed him again—this time like she meant every word, every promise behind it.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N pulled away from the kiss just as Joe’s hands started to wander beneath her shirt, sending sparks of heat wherever they touched. His breath hitched, and his eyes darkened with that familiar hunger. He leaned in again, chasing her lips with a low, needy sound, but she pressed a soft palm against his chest, holding him back with a teasing grin that gleamed in the soft light of the bus. “Uh-uh,” she said, voice velvet and mischievous. Joe blinked, caught between confusion and desire, breathless as she slid off his lap. The faint rustle of fabric accompanied her smooth, deliberate movements as she straightened her clothes, the sway of her hips making it impossible for him not to stare.

“Wait—hold on—are you serious right now?” he stammered, voice thick with disbelief. She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she sauntered toward the back of the bus, each step slow and calculated, driving him wild. The subtle rhythm of her shoes clicking against the floor only added to the tension in the cramped space. Joe groaned, dropping his head back against the seat, fingers running through his hair as he tried to rein in the storm raging inside him. “You can’t be serious,” he muttered, sitting up abruptly and gesturing helplessly at the very obvious bulge in his pants. “You’re really gonna stop now?”

Y/N glanced back over her shoulder, a smirk sharp enough to cut glass curling her lips. “Gotta get ready. Can’t miss certain performances, Joey.” He watched her disappear behind the thin partition that separated the lounge from the narrow hallway leading to her makeshift dressing room aka her bedroom. The soft patter of her footsteps faded, and Joe let out a frustrated groan, pressing his elbows into his knees as the weight of anticipation settled on him.

From somewhere beyond the partition, her voice drifted out, smooth as silk, layered with smug delight and promise. “Come help me pick something…” Joe was already on his feet, moving faster than he’d intended. “…and I’ll let you watch me undress.” A wide grin broke across his face, his usual composure slipping as he darted down the hallway like a man possessed. Y/N heard the rush of his footsteps and burst into laughter, flipping through her carefully curated rack of outfits with practiced ease. The glow from the dim LED lights highlighted the shimmer of her mesh jumpsuit, the velvet folds catching every flicker of light.

“Thirsty much?” she teased, eyes sparkling as he appeared in the doorway. Joe leaned casually against the frame, blue eyes locked on her like she was the only star in the sky. “You’re damn right I am,” he said, voice low and rough with need. She held up the jumpsuit, fingers tracing the delicate mesh panels. “This one feels right for tonight, don’t you think? Fierce, but still a little… dangerous.” He stepped closer, the heat between them intensifying. “Dangerous? Baby, you’re lethal.” Y/N smiled, stepping back just enough to let him watch as she unzipped the jumpsuit slowly, the mesh teasing the skin beneath. Joe’s breath hitched, every inch of him craving more.

“Maybe I should help,” he said, voice thick with promise. She didn’t hesitate, turning to face him fully, letting the soft fabric slip over her shoulders. “Only if you’re gentle.” Their eyes locked, a silent agreement passing between them as the afternoon light grew warmer and the bus felt more like their private world than ever before. Outside, the city of London stirred awake, but inside, time slowed to the rhythm of their shared breath, the electric pulse of anticipation and unspoken desire binding them tightly together.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N stood before the narrow mirror mounted on the wall of the tour bus, fingers deftly working the buttons on her denim jean romper. The fabric hugged her curves in all the right places, cinching snugly at her waist and revealing just enough thigh to make even the most composed person weak in the knees. She adjusted the cups of her bra beneath the romper, giving her shape a little extra lift before smoothing the fabric with a practiced ease, the small motions so natural they almost felt like part of a ritual.

Behind her, Joe sat perched on the edge of the bed, elbows resting heavily on his knees, jaw slack, and eyes dark with a blatant, admiring hunger. The soft glow of the bus’s overhead lighting caught the gleam in his eyes, and Y/N caught his reflection in the mirror—his gaze fixed on her like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at. A slow, knowing smile tugged at the corners of her lips despite herself. Joe shook his head in disbelief, voice dropping low and rough as he muttered, “You tryna kill me or something?” Y/N arched a perfectly sculpted brow, feigning innocence as she turned slightly to check the fit of the romper on her back, the denim hugging her in a way that seemed almost designed to torment him. “Huh? I’m just getting dressed,” she said, the playful edge in her voice impossible to hide.

“Nah,” he countered, licking his lips as if savoring the sight before him. “That’s not just getting dressed. That’s a war crime. You look… damn.” She laughed, finally turning fully to face him, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re so dramatic.” “I’m honest,” he replied, leaning back on his hands, eyes roaming over her body again, slow and deliberate. “You looked good before. But now? Damn, you look like a sin.” Y/N walked over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, her fingers tracing gently along the sharp line of his jaw. Her voice dropped to a whisper, warm and teasing. “Then pray for yourself, Burrow.”

Joe exhaled a shaky breath, his expression a mixture of frustration and awe as she turned away. Her laughter, light and musical, trailed behind her like a promise. As Y/N strutted toward the bus door, she called over her shoulder, the smirk in her voice unmistakable: “Come on, Burrow—Brent Faiyaz waits for no one.” Joe groaned, running a hand over his face before rising to follow. “You’re really tryna ruin me tonight,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Outside, the evening thrummed with energy. The distant pulse of music from the festival stage blended with the murmur of the crowd, a living soundtrack to the warm night air. The sky overhead was clear, dotted with stars that twinkled like scattered diamonds, and strands of string lights hung between poles, casting a soft, golden glow over the scene. The moment Y/N stepped off the bus, she laced her fingers with Joe’s, their hands fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Their security detail fell into step quietly beside them, leaving the couple free in their bubble of warmth and familiarity.

They walked slowly, the heat of their joined hands grounding them amid the vibrant chaos around them. Their conversation flowed easily, light and effortless—music, favorite foods, old tour stories, and even embarrassing childhood memories spilling out with laughter and shared glances that said more than words ever could. “You ever sneak out to a concert as a teenager?” she asked, nudging him playfully with her shoulder.

Joe chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. “No, but I snuck into one once. My buddy’s brother worked security at a club in Athens.” She gasped dramatically. “You little rebel.” He grinned, tugging her hand a little closer, the warmth between them growing. “And you?” “I snuck out to see Beyoncé,” she admitted with a sly smile. “Totally worth the grounding.” They both laughed, the tension from earlier dissolving completely, replaced by something soft and unspoken. As the first chords of Brent Faiyaz’s set vibrated through the ground beneath their feet, the moment felt effortless—warm and wrapped in a quiet promise they weren’t quite ready to name but could no longer deny.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

They made their way through the throng of fans just as the lights dimmed, a wave of anticipation rippling through the crowd. Y/N slipped easily beside Joe as they settled into a cozy spot toward the back of the stage area—close enough to see every detail but far enough to stay lowkey, blending into the swaying mass of bodies moving like one under the night sky.

Joe stood behind her, arms wrapping around her waist with a comforting warmth, his chin resting lightly against her shoulder. The air was thick with the scent of summer—sticky with spilled drinks, the sharp tang of weed, and the heavy buzz of heat radiating off the bodies pressed around them. The low hum of the bass from the speakers vibrated through the ground beneath their feet, weaving into the warm night air like an invisible thread pulling them together.

Brent Faiyaz stepped onto the stage, and the crowd erupted in cheers that echoed into the dark. The music washed over them—mellow, seductive, and intoxicating—and Y/N leaned into Joe, her body moving gently with the beat. She swayed side to side against him, small movements that felt like a private dance, even in the middle of the crowd. Joe tightened his hold, hands settling on her hips, mirroring her rhythm as if their bodies spoke a language only they could understand. Y/N began to sing softly along with the melody, her voice low and sure in Joe’s ear. He didn’t watch the artist on stage. Instead, his gaze stayed fixed on the woman in his arms—mesmerized by the way the light caught the curve of her cheek, the gentle rise and fall of her breath, and the subtle smile tugging at her lips.

Then, “All Mine” started. The lyrics flowed smooth and sultry through the night air, wrapping the crowd in Brent’s vibe, but for Y/N and Joe, each word landed deeper, like a private conversation meant only for them.

“Baby, let’s keep it real We both still young, so what’s the rush? The night is young and we not drunk enough...”

Y/N’s fingers tightened gently around Joe’s hand, her thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on the back of it as she mouthed the words, her eyes locking with his in the dim, shifting light. It felt as though the song was narrating their unspoken truths—the restless nights, the charged energy that always hummed between them, the way they circled each other with flirtation and hesitation.

“We had our downs but we had way more ups, let’s make love That be the reason that you always hit me up...”

Joe’s breath hitched, the memory flickering vivid in his mind—Y/N teasing him before flights, their nights tangled in sheets, the quiet promises whispered in the dark. His fingers squeezed hers gently, grounding himself in the warmth of her presence despite the crowd pressing in all around them.

“And I know that I’ve been the worst (oh) But I love you better (ooh) If you let me Let’s catch a flight, change the weather And I promise forever...”

Her lips curved into a soft smile as vulnerability mingled with fire in her eyes. Joe’s heart thudded harder in his chest—this song was their secret language, the words they both felt but neither dared say aloud. Here, in the music, it was laid bare. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, voice low and steady. “We don’t have to catch any flights tonight. I’m right here.” Y/N leaned back into his chest, the world narrowing until it was just the two of them, wrapped in the glow of the chorus. “All mine, all mine...” The words repeated like a promise, like a question lingering in the air—ready to be answered.

The music shifted then, the tone dipping lower, moodier. The melody wrapped around Y/N like silk, coaxing her voice down with it—slow, sultry, and full of intent. She mouthed every word, leaning deeper against Joe, guiding his hand up to rest just beneath her chest, their fingers laced together like a tether.

“Girl, it’s only you for me, no lie,” she sang under her breath, soft but clear enough for him alone to hear.

Joe’s breath caught, a shiver running through him. He knew she was playing with fire—maybe teasing, maybe daring him—and the heat between them grew electric. His hands curled slightly around hers, grounding himself in the moment. “You’re trying to kill me,” he murmured, lips brushing against the shell of her ear, voice thick with desire. Y/N only smiled in response, turning her head just enough to meet his gaze, their faces inches apart. “I haven’t even started,” she whispered, her voice dripping with promise. The music swelled around them, the crowd moving as one, but for Y/N and Joe, time seemed to stop—caught in the magnetic pull of that shared moment, where every glance and breath said everything words couldn’t.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

As the final notes of the previous song drifted into silence, the unmistakable smooth beat of “Best Time” slipped seamlessly into the speakers, immediately recognizable and one of Y/N’s absolute favorites. The crowd shifted, the energy dipping into something lighter, more playful. Y/N turned toward Joe with a grin that lit up her entire face—bright, infectious, and threaded with a sparkle of mischief and excitement that made his heart skip.

Without hesitation, she reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging him closer, pulling him into the rhythm right there among the swaying mass of bodies. The noise of the crowd dulled into the background, becoming little more than a warm hum around them. Joe’s fingers intertwined with hers, his smile widening as he met her eyes—eyes full of that irresistible spark that always made him forget the rest of the world. Her voice rose, effortlessly weaving through the lyrics, light and free, blending with the music in a way that seemed like pure magic:

“I’ve been all over the world (You know) And I drank the finest wine I done seen the finest dimes But all the pretty girls come from VA (I’m sorry) Then it’s New York and M-I-A Then it’s PG and ’round my way So I don’t ever have to stay away (Shouldn’t have to stay away) For long...”

Joe mirrored her steps, moving in sync with the easy rhythm, his eyes never leaving hers as she danced close. The world spun just a little slower, the crowd’s energy fading until it was just them — a bubble of warmth, music, and undeniable connection.

When she hit the line—“Fuck around and find out She like one of mine, now she mine now...”

Joe’s smirk deepened, his voice dropping low with a teasing edge. “Yeah, you’ll find out later tonight, baby.” The flush that bloomed on Y/N’s cheeks wasn’t just from the lyrics, but from the way he said those words—soft, full of promise, and thick with anticipation. She bit her lip, holding his gaze, the playful challenge in her eyes daring him to keep up. For a moment, the noise and the crowd didn’t exist. It was just the two of them, bodies moving together, voices blending, hearts pounding in time with the music. Lost in the melody, lost in each other, wrapped in the promise of what the night still held—something electric, something new, something impossibly theirs. Y/N’s laughter, light and unrestrained, bubbled up between them as the chorus swelled, and Joe pulled her even closer, the heat of their connection blazing in the cool night air. “Damn,” he murmured against her ear, “you’re trouble.” She glanced up, eyes gleaming, “Only for you.” And with that, they moved deeper into the night, the music their soundtrack, the night theirs to claim.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The festival buzzed all around them—a symphony of distant music, excited chatter, the occasional shout from food vendors hawking their specials, and the comforting hum of summer nights alive with possibility. But inside their little bubble, the world narrowed down to just Joe and Y/N, arms wrapped securely around each other as they strolled aimlessly through the labyrinth of tents and crowds.

Joe’s voice, low and smooth, brushed against the shell of her ear. “So, who are we catching next?” he asked, curiosity threading through the softness. Y/N pulled back just enough to glance at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Mmm… not sure yet,” she murmured, fishing her phone from her pocket to check the festival lineup. Her thumb swiped through the schedule with casual familiarity. “We still have a while before it’s my turn to light up a stage.” She leaned her head against his chest again, feeling his arms tighten slightly around her waist—a subtle but grounding embrace that settled a fluttering calm inside her she hadn’t realized she needed.

Their security detail kept a respectful distance, a quiet, protective presence—close enough to react, but distant enough to let them breathe and move freely. Just then, a small commotion caught Y/N’s attention. She looked up from her phone to see a cluster of five girls, probably no older than seventeen or eighteen, standing hesitantly near the edge of their path, eyes wide with a mix of awe and nerves as they debated whether to approach.

Gently, Y/N slipped out of Joe’s arms and took a few steps toward the group, her smile warm and inviting, instantly putting the girls at ease. “They’re good,” she said with a quick glance toward her security, who gave a subtle nod. Then, turning fully to the girls, she asked with genuine interest, “Hey, you guys having a good time so far?”

The group lit up instantly, their nervousness melting away like morning dew. One shy girl stepped forward, her voice small but eager. “You were amazing the other night in Florence.” “We’ve been following you since your first single!” another added, eyes shining with admiration. Y/N listened intently, laughing softly between their words, her gratitude sincere and easy. “Thank you, that means so much,” she said, reaching out to squeeze one girl’s hand gently. “Seriously, you guys just made my night.”

Joe hung back a bit, arms folded, watching Y/N with an expression that softened his usually playful smirk into something warmer—something unmistakably tender. He caught her reflection in a nearby window and saw the magnetic glow she carried when she was in her element—this was her natural habitat, connecting with fans, giving them a moment they’d carry with them forever. One of the girls glanced over her shoulder suddenly, eyes widening as they landed on Joe. She nudged her friend with an incredulous whisper. “Is that Joe Burrow?” Her voice barely above a breath. Then, turning back to Y/N with a conspiratorial grin, she added, “You guys would make such a cute couple. The way he looks at you? Come on…”

Y/N’s eyes flicked toward Joe, catching the little smirk that played at his lips. She shot him a quick wink, then turned back to the group with a teasing grin. “He’s pretty sweet, isn’t he?” That sent the girls into a fit of giggles, their youthful excitement blooming like fireworks. Y/N spent the next few minutes signing phones, arms, and small merch flags with practiced ease, pausing to pose for pictures. Joe quietly obliged when one shy girl shyly asked if he’d take a photo, his usually reserved demeanor softening as he knelt to frame the shot just right.

When the group finally said their goodbyes and melted back into the crowd, Y/N walked back over to Joe, slipping her arm through his waist with a satisfied sigh. “So… I’m sweet now, huh?” Joe teased, arching a brow as he caught her gaze. “I mean,” she said with a grin, “you did fly across the ocean for me.” He leaned down, brushing a tender kiss against her temple. “You’re worth every mile—and the jet lag.”

Y/N scrolled through the lineup again, her finger pausing as her eyes brightened at a name she recognized immediately. “Ooh! We have to go see Latto,” she said, her excitement bubbling up. She turned her phone screen toward Joe. “That’s my girl!” Joe arched a brow, amusement lighting his blue eyes. “Your girl, huh? You got someone on the side I should be worried about?” He leaned in slightly, as if trying to sniff out the competition. Y/N smirked without missing a beat. “Oh honey, you’re the side piece,” she shot back, tossing him a wicked wink.

Joe huffed a mock gasp, the grin on his face widening until it nearly split his face. Then, without warning, he bent down and scooped her up as if she weighed nothing. “Oh really?” he said, hoisting her over his shoulder with ease. “JOE!” she squealed, smacking his back through breathless laughter. “Put me down, you caveman! You don’t even know where you’re going!”

He just chuckled, unfazed. “I don’t need to. I’ll follow the sound of your girl Latto.” “You are so lucky I like you!” she yelled between giggles. He grinned wider, mock-serious. “More like lucky I didn’t spank you for calling me the side piece.”

“Oh my god, put me down!” she laughed. “Say I’m your main,” he challenged. “…I plead the fifth,” she teased back. “Wrong answer.” Their laughter trailed behind them as Joe carried Y/N through the swirling festival crowd. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pretending to struggle, while he walked like he had all the time in the world—grinning like she was already the best part of his night.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

After several minutes weaving through the dense festival crowd—laughing at their own jokes, dodging wandering eyes, and playfully elbowing each other when a particularly enthusiastic fan caught sight of them—Joe finally relented. With a soft grunt and a shake of his head, he gently lowered Y/N back onto her feet.

She landed with a theatrical flair, planting both hands on her hips as if to dust off the invisible remnants of the ride. Her fingers swept down the front of her denim romper with exaggerated care, smoothing the fabric as if she were straightening out a royal robe. Then, without missing a beat, she looked up at Joe with mock exasperation and a perfectly timed sigh. “Damn,” she huffed, eyes narrowing with playful indignation. “I had a really nice view back there, you know.”

Joe rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a grin that betrayed his amusement. He stepped closer, lacing his fingers through hers with a casual confidence that sent a familiar warmth skittering up her spine. “So,” he said, voice low and teasing, “where exactly are we headed before you start writing lyrics about my ass?” Y/N tilted her head, a slow smirk curling her lips as her eyes gleamed mischievously. She leaned in just enough to let her breath brush against his ear and whispered, “Oh, Joseph… I already did.”

Joe froze mid-step, brows furrowing as the words sank in. “Wait—what?” Without missing a beat, Y/N tugged his hand and pulled him forward, her hips swaying with a rhythm that made the world around them seem to slow. “You heard me,” she said over her shoulder, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Don’t forget—‘Heat in The Sheets’ is about you.”

Joe blinked, the realization settling like a spark. A slow, stunned grin spread across his face. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “I knew that second verse felt way too personal.” Y/N laughed, the sound light and genuine as she squeezed his hand, her eyes shining with that mix of affection and pride only shared secrets can bring. “I only write hits, baby.”

He glanced at her with something like awe, the way her confidence lit her up making it impossible not to smile. “And I guess that means I’m officially your muse now?” She glanced back once more, the playful twinkle never leaving her eyes. “You’ve been my muse, Joey. From day one.” Joe’s smile deepened, broad and unguarded, as if those words were the sweetest lyric he’d ever heard. For the rest of the walk, he couldn’t stop grinning—like the world had just shifted a little, tilting perfectly toward them.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

As they navigated through the shifting sea of bodies, the festival’s vibrant energy swelled around them—the hum of conversations mingling with distant bass, the smell of popcorn and spilled beer lingering in the warm night air. The lights of the main stage flickered like fireflies, casting shifting shadows over the crowd. Up ahead, the area near the stage where Latto was about to perform began to thicken with anticipation. Fans jostled eagerly, chanting and calling out, their excitement practically electric.

But for Y/N and Joe? They moved as if wrapped in a bubble apart from it all—still locked into their own world, their shared quiet space a stark contrast to the frenzy pulsing around them. Joe’s smirk grew wider as he glanced down at her, one eyebrow arching in that signature way that made her both laugh and roll her eyes at once. “So,” he said, voice dripping with teasing, “should I expect to see you twerking here too? Or is that reserved exclusively for your set?”

Y/N pivoted slowly on her heel to face him, one hand landing firmly on her hip in mock accusation. Her lips curled into a smirk that was equal parts amused and knowing. “You just want my ass pressed against you, you pervert.” Joe chuckled, the sound rich and unabashed. “I mean... you’re not wrong.” She nudged him sharply with her elbow, playful and unapologetic. “Well, you’re lucky you’re cute.” Leaning in just a fraction closer, Joe’s voice dropped to something softer, almost reverent. “I’m lucky for a lot of reasons,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin, “especially when it comes to you.” Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift from teasing to sincerity. Her playful smirk softened, eyes searching his face for a beat as the weight of the moment settled between them. Before she could find the words to reply, a sudden flare of stage lights cut through the night, igniting the crowd into a roar.

Latto had taken the stage. Joe’s arm slid smoothly around Y/N’s waist, pulling her flush against him as the bass dropped, thick and throbbing, vibrating through the soles of their feet and up into their chests. “Twerk now, talk later,” he whispered into her ear, voice low and full of that same mischievous spark. Y/N rolled her eyes, laughter bubbling up as the beat took over her body. “You’re impossible.” “Still your favorite, though,” Joe countered, his grin practically infectious. She shot him a warning look but her smile gave her away. “Don’t push it, Burrow.” As Latto’s voice soared into the night, Y/N leaned into Joe, their bodies moving in time with the music, caught between the pulse of the festival and the quiet, electric charge that flowed just between them.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N was in her element—laughing, dancing, vibing with the crowd as Latto commanded the stage. The beat for “Peaches and Eggplants” dropped, and the energy shifted immediately. The crowd went feral in the best way: girls throwing it back, friends hyping each other up, the whole section turning into a club floor. As soon as Sexyy Red’s verse came in, Y/N turned to Joe with a wicked little smirk. She grabbed his hand, spun under his arm with a dancer’s grace, then dropped low with a slow roll of her hips, never breaking eye contact. She came back up just as the verse hit “Boaw, boaw, boaw, boaw, boaw”, her hand curling into the drawstring of his hoodie and tugging him toward her.

Joe’s smirk deepened, eyes locked on her like she was the only thing that existed. And maybe in that moment, she was. “Got a bitch runnin’,” Sexyy rapped through the speakers, and Joe let out a low chuckle, leaning in so only she could hear him.

“You keep doing that and you will be runnin’ too.” Y/N grinned, biting her lip as she turned back around, continuing to dance, completely unbothered by the eyes on them. It was her world right now—and Joe? Joe was just grateful he got front row seats. Y/N turned to face Joe fully as Latto’s verse picked up, the grin on her lips nothing short of dangerous. The way she leaned into the lyrics, eyes fixed on him like he was the only one in the crowd—it was a private performance in the middle of chaos.

“Ratio my waist and hips, bitches need to get a grip (damn)

Bitches need to get a life

He on my ass like white on rice

On my heels like he Muaddi

He love when I call him Papi…”

Her body rolled in sync with the beat, her voice playful, flirtatious, every line laced with that teasing confidence only shecould pull off.

“I’m crazy, I’m sexy, I’m cool (sike)

Burn this shit like Left Eye (hahaha)

He think I’m Boo Boo the Fool (wait, who?)

Big ol’ perky titties like I work at Hooty Hoo—”

Joe was gone. He couldn’t do anything but stand there, jaw clenched, fighting the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth and failing miserably. His girl was giving him a whole damn show—his hands stuffed in his pockets purely so he wouldn’t grab her in front of everyone. Y/N winked before turning back around, continuing to dance and vibe with the crowd like she hadn’t just sent Joe into orbit. Joe leaned forward, voice low and full of heat in her ear, “You keep that up and I swear the wheels on that damn bus are coming clean off tonight.”

Y/N looked over her shoulder with a smirk. “Only if you can keep up, Burrow.”

Yeah, he was a goner.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Joe was hanging on by a thread.

The bass from the speakers rattled through his chest, but nothing compared to the way Y/N moved against him—slow, deliberate, taunting. Her ass pressed back into him every time the beat dropped, like she knew exactly what kind of effect she had on him. Spoiler: she absolutely did. He tried to play it cool—arms around her waist, his hands resting low on her hips, gripping just enough to ground himself. But the pressure building in his jeans was betraying him hard. And every time she threw it back? He caught it. Every damn time. Like a reflex. Like he couldn’t not.

Y/N tilted her head back just enough to glance at him, biting her lip with a smirk that damn near ended him. She leaned in, her voice honey-slick and sinful: “You good, Burrow?” Joe’s jaw flexed, his grip on her tightening for half a second before he leaned down to murmur, “You enjoying yourself?” She chuckled low, slow, grinding once more, dragging it out. “Mmhmm. You?” “More than I should be,” he breathed, voice deep and rough in her ear. Y/N rolled her hips again, slow and smooth, and whispered back, “Then stop me.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. Not here. Not yet.

But she’d lit a fuse, and they both knew exactly what was coming once that stage cleared tonight.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

As soon as the beat dropped for “Big Mama,” Y/N’s eyes lit up with devilish intent. Joe immediately clocked the shift in her energy.

He didn’t even get a chance to prepare himself before she turned around and backed into him again—closer this time, smoother, the rhythm of her hips syncing perfectly with the bass pulsing from the stage.

She rapped along, clear and confident, eyes locked on his with purpose as she mouthed:

“You gotta put in some work today Can you please do the most for me 'cause I'm sprung? Can you give me some good dick 'til I cum?”

Joe’s breath caught in his throat. Her voice was sultry, teasing, dripping with playful menace. And she was loving every second of watching him try—and fail—to keep his cool.

She tugged on the hem of his hoodie again, spinning to face him just long enough to lean in close and rap the next line into his ear:

“Then can you make me nut again, where’s your tongue?”

Joe clenched his jaw, heat surging through his entire body. "Y/N..." he warned lowly, his voice strained with restraint.

She just winked, brushing her lips against his jaw as she grinned.

And then came the part that made everyone scream—especially Y/N:

“Where the fuck are my panties at? 'Cause I ain't wearin' none... I ain't wearin' none...”

She faced him again, slowly dragging a finger up the front of his hoodie as she mouthed those words, her expression wicked and knowing.

Joe was done.

Absolutely, completely cooked.

The crowd was going wild, but he only saw her. Only felt her—pressed up, teasing, dancing with full control like she was trying to kill him sweetly and slowly.

“He call me Big Mama... He loves his Big Mama…”

Y/N swayed her hips again with that final chorus, lip syncing directly to Joe like it was just them in the crowd. And the way he was looking at her? If looks could rip clothes off, she'd be naked in a second. Joe leaned into her ear, growling low so only she could hear: “The second your set ends, I’m showing you exactly what I do for Big Mama.” Y/N just smirked, bit her lip, and whispered back: “I’ll be waiting, Papi.” The tension? Unholy. The rest of the night? Already written in fire.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N walked just a half-step ahead of Joe, swinging their linked hands playfully, her grin devilish. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, voice light but laced with mischief. “What’s wrong, baby?” she asked sweetly, eyes twinkling with faux innocence. “You look a little tense.”

Joe’s jaw flexed as his eyes met hers—darker now, smoldering with barely restrained desire. That look alone sent a thrill straight through her. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. He stepped closer, towering over her just slightly, his voice a deep murmur as he leaned in. “You know exactly what’s wrong,” he said, his voice low and rough, laced with that deep, warning heat.

Y/N grinned, unfazed and bold. “Mmm, no I don’t. You’re gonna have to use your words, Burrow.” Her tone was innocent, but her eyes were nothing but wicked. Joe let out a deep breath through his nose like he was fighting every instinct not to grab her and handle her right there. "You spent that whole damn set grinding on me, rapping about how you ain't wearing any panties, and now you wanna play innocent?" He leaned down slightly, lips brushing her ear. "You're lucky I respect your schedule... 'cause if it was up to me, you'd be late as hell." Y/N felt a shiver crawl down her spine—mission accomplished.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait, baby,” she whispered back, her voice sweet like honey. “Unless you want me walking on stage all messy and breathless. Your call.” Joe stopped walking for a second, dragging his hand over his face with a groan, muttering, "You're evil." Y/N winked over her shoulder. "I prefer ‘entertainer.’” And with that, she tugged him the rest of the way toward the bus—her hips swinging just a little more exaggerated, just a little more tempting. Joe followed behind, fists clenched and every muscle in his body tight. Yeah, he was definitely going to explode later. And she couldn’t wait.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Joe's jaw flexed as he looked up at her, still sitting on the edge of her bed like a man trying real hard to stay in control. And the moment Y/N stepped in front of him wearing that outfit—black mesh clinging to her skin, velvet accentuating every curve, sheer panels playing peekaboo with his sanity—he knew peace was officially out of reach. Her voice was soft and sweet, teasing as ever. “No good luck kiss?” Joe’s eyes flicked up her body like he was memorizing every inch. “If I kiss you,” he said, voice low and thick, “you’re not leaving this bus.” The promise in his tone sent a hot ripple through her body, and the way he looked at her—like he was barely holding himself back—only made it worse. Y/N’s pout was immediate, her lips plush and playful. “Joey…”

He let out a low growl, dragging a hand down his face as if that would calm him down, then stood slowly, towering over her now. His hands slid to her waist, fingers digging into the velvet. “You’ve been pushin’ my buttons all damn night,” he murmured, mouth brushing her ear, “and now you’re standing here dressed like this asking for a kiss?” Y/N blinked up at him, breath catching. “I just wanted a little luck…” Joe’s grip tightened, his mouth finding the corner of hers—but he didn’t kiss her yet. Instead, he pulled back slightly, eyes locked on hers, his restraint hanging by a thread. “You don’t need luck, baby. But when your set’s over…” His thumb traced her bottom lip. “You’re mine. All. Night.”

Y/N shivered, heart thumping in her chest. She gave him one last smirk before stepping back, sashaying to the door like she wasn’t currently drenched in heat. “Then I better go kill this performance.” And behind her, Joe just stared, jaw clenched, hands on his hips, already counting down the minutes until he could remind her exactly what happens when you play with fire.

But before they could leave the bus, Joe's head snapped back down, eyes narrowing like she’d just lit a fuse under him—because she had. Y/N stood there all smug and sweet, hands on her hips, one brow arched like she was innocent. “You sure you don’t want to help me warm up?” she purred. “Pretty sure you could hit a spot that could make my high notes perfect.”

Joe groaned like he was in physical pain, throwing his head back dramatically as if the ceiling might offer him divine intervention. “Y/N…” She shrugged, lips quirking into a smirk. “What? Just saying.” He looked back at her, jaw tense, nostrils flaring slightly. “You keep talkin’ like that and I’m gonna have you hitting more than just high notes.” His voice was sharp, controlled—but barely.

Y/N bit her lip to hold back a laugh, clearly pleased with herself. Joe took a step closer, one hand lifting to trail a finger down the mesh of her outfit. “Get outta here before I make you miss your set. Again.” She turned, strutting toward the bus door like her heels didn’t even touch the ground. “Then you better be front row,” she called over her shoulder, tossing him one last wink. “Cause the way I’m about to sing, you’re the only one I’ll be thinking about.” Joe just stood there, running a hand over his mouth, muttering under his breath, “She’s gonna kill me.” And yeah… after that set? She just might.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N met up with Carmen and Kayla just outside the bus, the late afternoon light casting long shadows on the pavement. Kayla immediately caught the rosy glow on Y/N’s cheeks and raised a teasing eyebrow. “You did not just fuck that man before your set, did you?” she groaned, clearly amused but also a little scandalized. Y/N shot her a sly grin, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Not yet, I haven’t,” she replied smoothly, her voice low enough for only them to hear. Carmen let out a sharp laugh, smacking Kayla’s arm. "Girl, you walked right into that one." Kayla rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the smirk tugging at her lips. "You’re impossible," she muttered to Y/N. "And nasty. Just nasty." Y/N shrugged, entirely unbothered, adjusting the mesh paneling of her jumpsuit like she knew she was the baddest thing walking. “Can’t help it if my man inspires me.”

Right on cue, Joe stepped off the bus behind them, hoodie low, jaw tight—but his eyes? Still full of that simmering, unspoken heat. Carmen looked between the two, then back at Kayla. “He’s definitely putting in work after the show.” Kayla groaned again, covering her ears. “I don’t want the visuals!” Y/N just grinned wickedly, slipping her mic pack into place as they headed toward the stage, the thrum of the festival growing louder with every step. Joe’s hand found the small of her back, that grounding touch that said “I see you. I got you.” And as they reached the stage entrance, Y/N looked over her shoulder at him, eyes gleaming. “Hope you’re ready, Joey. I’m about to make this crowd fall in love with me—just like you did.” Joe smirked. “Too late. Already happened.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N stepped onto the London stage like she owned every inch of it—her presence immediate and electric. The crowd’s roar swelled around her as the first beats dropped, dark and pulsating, weaving through the air like a siren’s call. The stage lights sliced through the haze in sharp streaks of cobalt and deep crimson, framing her silhouette with an edge as sharp as her attitude. Her jumpsuit caught the light perfectly—sheer mesh teasing skin, velvet sculpting every curve—every movement an artful display of strength and seduction. She didn’t smile right away. Instead, she locked eyes with the crowd, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, as if daring anyone to look away.

As the first low, distorted bass of “LIP LOCK” hit, Y/N moved with a feline grace that commanded every eye. Her black mesh and velvet jumpsuit caught the stage lights, every sheer panel and sculpted curve sparkling under the spotlights, a perfect blend of futuristic edge and raw sensuality. The crowd was a sea of waving phones and raised hands, but Y/N’s focus was razor-sharp, her eyes locking with the front rows as if daring the city itself to look away.

The twisted bassline slithered through the speakers like fog rolling off the Thames—dark, seductive, and utterly magnetic. Her voice sliced through the air, dripping with London attitude and cheeky innuendo, “You talk sweet, but baby your mouth’s too clean / Come show me what’s underneath that routine…” Each word was a challenge, each step a declaration. She prowled the stage with the precision of a queen in her kingdom, every movement syncopated to the beat that rippled like electricity through the crowd.

Without missing a beat, the stage exploded into the pulsing, neon haze of “PRIVATE PARTY.” Purple strobes lit the air like the city’s nightlife incarnate, and Kayla joined her with effortless swagger. The crowd moved like one body, the energy thick and sticky, the bass reverberating like the underground trains rumbling beneath the city streets. Y/N crouched low during the bridge, voice dropping to a sultry whisper that cut through the roar: “London, you know I don’t let just anyone in, right?” Cheers erupted, voices carrying into the night like a shared secret, the kind you only find in the heart of a city that never really sleeps.

The lights snapped red as she launched into “CONTROL FREAK,” sharp and relentless. The sharp edges of the song mirrored the jagged architecture surrounding the festival grounds. Y/N and Kayla’s choreography was tight, militant—no room for softness here, only power and control. Y/N laughed into the mic, fierce and playful, “London, don’t act like you don’t like it rough.” The crowd responded with wild abandon, fists pumping, bodies moving to her ruthless rhythm.

The mood shifted seamlessly into a haunting spotlight for “THIGH HIGH LIES.” Y/N stood alone, her voice raw and intimate, vulnerable and strong all at once: “Wore your truth like perfume / But it faded by noon…” Her silhouette against the backdrop of the glowing London Eye was almost surreal, her confession carried on a cool breeze that swept across the festival grounds. Halfway through, the beat flipped into a pulse-pounding remix, neon blues and fiery reds painting the night sky as the dancers returned with gravity-defying moves. Y/N was the eye of the storm—untouchable, captivating. Then the energy shifted again as she ripped into “DON’T CALL ME BABY,” the crowd screaming back every word like a battle cry. She pointed to a sign in the front row that read, “Blocked him for you, sis!” and threw them a fierce kiss. “Don’t call me baby / I ain’t yours to break…” The crowd was feral, alive, feeding off her raw power. For the grand finale, Y/N wove together “CAN’T KEEP ME QUIET,” “HEAT IN THE SHEETS,” and “NO HALO.”The opening of “Can’t Keep Me Quiet” echoed like thunder, her silhouette framed by stormy visuals that seemed to capture the unpredictable London weather itself. Her voice soared, fierce and unyielding, every note dripping with defiance.

Without warning, the beat melted into the sultry simmer of “Heat in the Sheets,” the stage awash in a deep, passionate red that felt like the glow of late-night Soho bars. She rolled her hips with deliberate intent, hand gripping the mic stand as if it were the only thing grounding her in the moment.

Y/N’s voice deepened into pure seduction as the opening notes of “Heat in the Sheets” rolled through the speakers, the sultry rhythm wrapping the festival crowd like a slow, intoxicating haze. The London night seemed to hold its breath as she stepped forward, every inch the fierce, magnetic queen she was meant to be.

“You said you’d be waitin’ in my hotel bed With that look in your eyes, got me losin’ my head Chain on your chest, not a single regret You’re a full-course meal, boy, I’m skippin’ the rest,”

Her eyes locked onto the crowd, but beneath the layers of performance, Joe felt the heat meant just for him. The way she sang it, like a secret shared only between them, sent a low fire stirring in his chest. The camera flashes flickered like lightning, but Y/N’s gaze was steady and fierce, unapologetic.

The hook slipped off her tongue silky and slow: “FaceTime got me actin’ different Can’t lie, I’m feelin’ your position Late night, no strings, just tension But I’m playin’ with fire, yeah I’m itchin’—”

She swayed, hips moving like liquid fire, every gesture dripping with teasing power. The crowd was mesmerized, swaying and singing along, caught between worship and wild abandon. Her voice pulled them in, weaving a story of desire and tangled emotions, perfectly poised on the edge of confession and control.

As the beat deepened, Y/N’s voice grew more commanding, wrapping around the crowd like a velvet rope pulling them closer: “Hands on my hips, say you miss how they move Talkin’ real reckless, got nothin’ to prove But boy, if I pull up, you know what we’ll do We ain't in love, but you stuck like glue.”

By now, the energy was at a fever pitch. Joe’s eyes burned into her, the silent promise of what awaited them after the show lingering between them like static electricity. The crowd was lost in the moment, the music, and the chemistry radiating from the stage.

When she hit the final lines, her voice dipped even lower, a husky tease that sent shivers through the festival grounds: “No calls, no claims… just heat in the sheets But damn, baby… you play me like you read the beat.”

The final switch to “No Halo” was like dawn breaking over the Thames—clean, bright white light cutting through the darkness, but with a bassline that still held that unapologetic grit. She moved forward slowly, voice haunting, a complex mix of heaven and hell: “You pray for me, but baby I sin soft…” The crowd swayed as one, the magic of London wrapping around them like a velvet cloak.

The crowd exploded, screams and cheers filling the London night like thunder, the perfect crescendo to Y/N’s electric performance. She held her final pose, chest heaving, eyes blazing—her moment sealed forever in the hearts of everyone watching. Joe stepped forward as the lights dimmed, a slow, proud smile crossing his face, knowing this night—and Y/N—were unforgettable. When the last note faded, Y/N stood tall and breathless, the roar of the crowd washing over her like a tidal wave. The city had witnessed a performance that was fierce, raw, and uniquely hers—a night that London wouldn’t soon forget.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Backstage, the buzz of the crowd faded into muffled echoes, replaced by the warm hum of the festival’s undercurrent—the sharp scent of sweat, perfume, and electricity hanging in the air. The dimmed lights cast long shadows, making every movement feel charged, like they were caught in a secret world apart from the roaring crowd outside. Joe was waiting near the entrance to the green room, leaning casually against the wall, but his whole body was taut, coiled with anticipation. His eyes locked onto Y/N the moment she stepped offstage, her chest still rising and falling from the intensity of her performance, that fierce glow in her eyes softened just enough to reveal the raw desire underneath.

She approached slowly, heels clicking with purpose, the fabric of her jumpsuit shimmering faintly under the backstage lights. Their eyes met, and the air between them thickened—silent but screaming with everything they both wanted but weren’t ready to give just yet. Joe reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against her arm—a feather-light touch that made a spark ignite at the contact. Y/N’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly, but she held steady, the tiniest smirk curling her lips. The kind of smile that said, I see you. I want you. But we’re not done playing.

“Damn, you killed it,” Joe murmured low enough for only her to hear, voice rough but controlled. Y/N tilted her head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Took a little inspiration,” she teased, letting her hand slide just briefly over his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath the fabric. He caught her gaze, the challenge clear: Not here. Not yet. Joe’s jaw clenched slightly, the heat burning behind his calm facade. “Best damn set I’ve seen in a minute,” he said, voice thick with unspoken promises.

Y/N stepped closer, her own heartbeat speeding up but her lips curving into a cool, confident smile. “Had to. You know I don’t do anything halfway.” His eyes dipped to her lips for a fraction of a second—long enough to ignite a spark—and then back up, steady, controlled. “You make it damn hard to keep my hands to myself.” She reached out, just brushing the back of her hand against his forearm—a soft tease that promised storms just beneath the surface. “Good. I want you to remember what this feels like tonight… but not lose control.”

Joe’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. “You always know how to push me, don’t you?” “And you always act like you’re not burning up inside,” Y/N shot back, voice dropping an octave, thick with heat. Neither of them moved closer, but the electricity hummed loud enough to drown out everything else. Their breathing synced, eyes locked, the tension pulling taut between them like a wire ready to snap but held steady—by choice, by will, by the unspoken promise that this fire was worth savoring a little longer. Y/N stepped closer, the space between them narrowing to a charged breath. “You sure you want to wait much longer, Joey?”

He smiled—slow, dangerous. “I like the chase.” Joe’s hand hovered near her waist, close enough to touch but not quite. “We’re gonna be in trouble when we finally do.” She laughed softly, the sound rich and full of mischief. “Oh, we’re already in trouble.” They shared a charged look, then slowly, almost reluctantly, stepped apart as the world outside called them back—Y/N to her next move, Joe to his place by her side. But the heat simmered just beneath the surface, a promise waiting to ignite once the time was right.

“God, come on,” Joe muttered under his breath, his restraint crumbling as he grabbed Y/N’s hand with purpose, already pulling her in the direction of the tour bus. His grip was firm, his steps quick like a man seconds from losing control. Y/N bit her lip to hide her smirk, the thrill of anticipation practically crackling between them. But before they could make it three steps, they were intercepted. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Kayla appeared in front of them, arms crossed, a knowing glint in her eye. Carmen followed right behind her, grinning wide. “Before you two run off to fuck like rabbits,” she said matter-of-factly, “just letting you know—you smashed it tonight. For real.”

“And we got you,” Kayla chimed in, wagging her brows. “Crew’s heading to the hotel. Y’all got the bus to yourselves. Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do…” “Which is not saying much,” Carmen deadpanned, earning a laugh from Y/N. Joe didn’t even bother hiding his groan. “Y’all done?” “Almost,” Kayla said, stepping aside dramatically. “Be safe, hydrate, stretch first…” “Lube is on the bus,” Carmen added with a wink before she and Kayla turned and walked off howling.

Y/N shook her head, cheeks warm, and looked over at Joe, who was already dragging her forward again without another word. “Don’t listen to them,” she said under her breath, though her smile said otherwise. Joe shot her a glance, eyes hooded. “I’m not. I’m listening to you. And you said you hadn’t fucked me yet.” The air snapped tight again. Y/N licked her lips slowly, breath catching. “So you’re gonna fix that?” Joe didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Once they stepped inside the bus, the door clicked shut behind them—and that sound alone seemed to shift the entire atmosphere. Joe turned, his eyes already fixed on Y/N like she was the only thing in the world he could see. His hand rose slowly, brushing her jaw before slipping around the side of her neck, firm but careful—not choking, just commanding. He pulled her toward him, and the moment their lips met, it was nothing soft. The kiss hit with heat and hunger, a collision of everything they’d been holding back.

Y/N barely had time to gasp before he was lifting her, strong arms wrapping under her thighs. She squealed, breathless and giddy, fingers immediately diving into his curls as he pressed her back against the nearest wall. Then—smack—his hand met her ass, the sound sharp in the silence, her thighs instinctively tightening around him as she laughed into his mouth. “Joe—” “You really think you can just act like a brat, teasing me all night, perform like that,” he growled softly, his voice low and dark, “and walk off stage like I’m not gonna do something about it?” She bit her lip, eyes sparkling, pulse racing. “Maybe I was counting on it.” He kissed her again—deeper this time, slower but no less intense. The kind of kiss that promised the night was far from over.

Joe kept her pinned there against the wall with his hips, one hand still tight around the back of her neck while his other moved to her thigh, where he was still holding her up. "His fingers traced the curve of her hip, slipping beneath the ruched velvet overlay of her jumpsuit. The sheer mesh clung to her skin like a whisper, and she arched into him as his fingertips brushed the edge where fabric met bare heat. “Joe, I—” Y/N gasped, her fingers gripping at his hair.

His lips brushed her jaw, then her ear. “You know what you’ve done.” He pressed two fingers against her clit, the touch featherlight, and she inhaled sharply as he started rubbing slow, teasing circles. He eased her off the wall and set her down gently before pulling back and looking down at her, his hand slipping out from under her jumpsuit.

For a second, she was about to ask what was wrong—Then his fingers slipped beneath the sheer mesh at her hip, finding the seam where velvet ended and skin began. He hooked the edge of her bodysuit, gave a teasing pull, then snapped it back against her with a wicked glint before drawing his hand away. “Turn around,” he said, low and soft. She did, her skin flushing as she placed her palms against the wall, breath already catching.

His palm met her skin, the first smack light, and her thighs tightened at the sound and sting of it. Another, then another, and another—all spaced evenly, all over her cheeks. He alternated sides and intensity, and she gasped every time, her fingers curling against the wall. Each smack sent a delicious jolt straight to her core, a little flame of heat and want. “You’ve been so good for me so far,” he murmured. “But you’re not done yet.” Y/N whimpered as he slipped his fingers under the ruched velvet that hugged her hips, slowly tugging the sculpted fabric down over her thighs, savoring every inch as it peeled away from her skin. The air felt cool against her bare skin, and her breath hitched when his hand returned to her ass—now skin on skin. It felt so much more sensitive, even though his palm met her flesh softer now, lighter—like he was warming her up for more.

She let out a little sound of surprise at the next smack—it was harder this time. Not enough to really hurt, just enough to make her gasp, her pulse picking up. “Count.” She blinked. “What?” “Count,” Joe repeated, his tone soft but commanding. The next smack fell harder than the last, and she inhaled at the sting before managing a breathless, “One.” Smack. “Two!” She yelped a little at that one, her hips shifting. He didn’t say anything, but she could feel his smile against her shoulder as he pressed a kiss there, the next smack falling immediately after—harder than the last. “Three—” she gasped. She was starting to squirm now, her toes curling in her heels, and she bit her lip when he paused, his fingers brushing the back of her thigh.

“Keep counting.” Y/N nodded, her hair falling in her face—and then he smacked her again, skin on skin, five more times. Each one harder than the last, until she was whimpering out every number, her hips moving with every strike, the heat between her legs building. She’d lost track of how many more times he spanked her, but finally, his palm rubbed where he’d been smacking her—soothing, gentle, and she sighed, relaxing under his touch.

Then, his other hand slipped between her legs, a single finger sliding between her folds. She was wet—she could feel it as he slipped through her slit, his finger stopping to circle her clit. She whimpered, shifting her weight, her legs feeling unsteady now. He’d worked her up so much already, and now his touch was so light, so deliberate. It was driving her crazy, and she was squirming in no time, hips rolling toward his hand.

“Joe,” she whispered, her voice catching. “I—I want you.” He chuckled softly, his lips pressing against her neck. “And you’ll get me.” His finger sped up, circling her clit faster now—just when she was getting into it, though, he slowed, and she whined in protest. “No, no, don’t do that,” she breathed, trying to roll her hips into his touch—but he followed her movement, keeping his pace torturously slow and light. Just enough to make her want more but not nearly enough to satisfy her.

He hummed against her skin. “You gotta tell me what you want, babygirl.” She exhaled, shaky. “I—please—I want you inside me,” she managed, voice barely louder than a whisper. “I need you to fill me up.” Joe’s breath hitched—and then his fingers slipped down, pushing into her easily, and she moaned, arching back against him. He fucked her slowly, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing as his fingers pumped in and out of her. Her legs felt like jelly already, her breath catching on every inhale, and his fingers felt so good, she never wanted him to stop—but she still wanted more. “Joe,” she breathed.

“Mmm?” He sounded so calm, so steady, and it just made her even more impatient. She could feel her climax building already, but she didn’t want to come like this. “I want—” She cut off, gasping as his fingers curled inside her. “I want you to fuck me.” He hummed, lips brushing her shoulder. “How do you want me to fuck you?” Y/N’s breath shuddered, her hips rocking toward his hand. “Like—like last time—” Her voice cracked, and she had to pause, her walls tightening around his fingers. “Fuck me on my knees, please.”

She felt his smile against her skin right before his fingers withdrew from her, and she couldn’t help the sound of protest she made. “Shh, baby, I got you,” he murmured, and then he was guiding her over to the couch. She started to sit, but he shook his head. “No, on your knees—face the back of the couch.” Y/N did as he said, her heart pounding. She glanced back at him as she shifted onto her knees, watching as he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down just far enough. His cock sprang free, hard and straining toward her, and her mouth watered at the sight of it. Turning towards him.

Joe stepped closer, his tip brushing her parted lips, and she opened her mouth obediently, sticking her tongue out. “Good girl,” he murmured—and then he was pushing inside, gripping the couch cushion on the other side of her for support as he started to thrust. Y/N moaned around his length, her tongue flattening as she bobbed her head. She felt his tip hit the back of her throat and relaxed, letting him slide deeper—and he let out a shuddering breath.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice strained, “you feel so good.” Y/N smiled around him—and then moaned as he started to move faster, his length gliding in and out of her mouth easily, her spit helping him along. He wasn’t going as deep anymore, though—instead, he fucked her mouth with quick, short movements, his cock slick with her saliva. Every time he pulled back, her lips followed him, never breaking their seal, and he groaned at that.

“So good for me, Y/N,” he managed. “Such a good girl—” She moaned at his words, and he hissed, his cock twitching. She kept the same pace, letting him use her mouth as he pleased, until finally, he drew back, slipping from between her lips with a soft pop. “You keep looking at me like that,” Joe said, his voice rough, “and I won’t last long enough to get inside you.” Y/N bit her lip, her cheeks flushing pink. “Who says I want you to last?” He laughed softly, a breathless sound. “Greedy girl.” He moved around to the front of the couch, then, sinking down onto it. “Get over here and ride me.” Her heart skipped a beat, her stomach flipping with anticipation—and she stood up and moved toward him. He gripped her by the waist and pulled her into his lap, her legs straddling him. His cock was still hard, still wet from her mouth, and she shivered as it rubbed against her clit.

Joe’s fingers gripped her hips, and he held her up as she positioned herself over him—and then he was lowering her down onto his length. She moaned, feeling every inch of him, her walls stretching to accommodate his size. “So big,” she whispered—and Joe chuckled. “You took it so well last time,” he reminded her, lips brushing her jaw. “Doesn’t mean it’s not a lot to take,” she shot back, breathless. He hummed. “And look at you—you’re doing so good.” Y/N whimpered, her hips shifting. “Please—”

“What do you need, baby?” Joe’s voice was so low, so soft, and his hands shifted on her waist, gripping tighter before lifting her up—then letting her drop. The friction was delicious, and she cried out at the feeling of him filling her up, his cock dragging along every sensitive spot inside her. “That,” she gasped. “Just—please—” She barely knew what she was saying anymore, but Joe seemed to understand.

He lifted her again, up and then down—up and then down. Over and over, he bounced her on his cock, her clit rubbing against his pelvis every time she came down. She clung to his shoulders, her head falling back, eyes slipping shut as the pleasure built inside her, hot and heavy and demanding. “You gonna come for me?” Joe asked, voice tight. She nodded, breath coming in soft gasps. “I need to hear you, baby.”

“Y-yeah—” She was barely able to speak, her voice cracking over a moan. Joe lifted her with a sudden roughness that made her gasp, his fingers digging into her thighs tight enough to bruise. “You think you can tease me like that,” he growled against her neck, breath hot and ragged, “and just walk away?”

Y/N barely got the breath to respond before the first wave slammed into her. “Joe—fuck, I’m—” Her words crumbled into a whimper as her back arched, spine bowing as the orgasm burst through her. “Yeah, that’s it,” he muttered, voice low and wrecked. “Come for me, baby. Let go.” Her body obeyed, all tension and release. “Oh my god—Joe,” she cried out, head thrown back, her moan echoing off the walls of the bus. Her muscles clamped down around him, trembling with aftershocks, her thighs quaking where he held her. Joe kept going, working her through it, relentless and deep. “You feel that? That’s what happens when you play with fire.”

Y/N couldn’t stop the way her hips jerked with each thrust, her fingers clawing at his back as he stayed buried inside her. “I wasn’t playing,” she panted, dazed, eyes glassy with pleasure. “I knew exactly what I was doing.” Joe looked at her, eyes dark with something dangerous and consuming. “Then you knew I wasn’t gonna let you leave this bus without learning your lesson.” She smiled through the haze, lips parted, voice a breathless tease. “Guess I better misbehave more often.” He didn’t let up, his pace steady even as her moans turned to breathless gasps. “Again,” he urged her. “Come for me again, babygirl.” He was so close, she could feel it, and she wanted to give him what he’d given her. She reached between them, rubbing her clit as he kept lifting her up and letting her drop, and before long, her whole body was going tense again, her walls clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, Y/N, just like that,” Joe whispered—and then he tensed, too, his hips snapping up as he came. Y/N felt him pulsing inside her, felt his cock twitch, and she kept rubbing her clit until she felt herself go over the edge again, her third climax taking over, leaving her gasping and boneless. Joe held her to him, his fingers gentle on her skin now. They were both breathing hard, and Y/N finally opened her eyes, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him. She smiled sleepily, then giggled—she couldn’t help it. “What?” He was smiling, too.

She shook her head. “Nothing. That was just… a lot.” “Mm. Yeah, it was.” His fingers traced her back, up and down, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You okay?” Y/N nodded. “Very okay.” She smiled again, then shifted, lifting herself off him and laying back on the couch, stretching her arms above her head with a content sigh. She looked up at him through her lashes, mischief lighting her features again. “Rested up yet, papi?”

Joe groaned—loudly—as his head dropped back. Just the way she said it, smug and sweet, had him stirring again. He looked down at her, already half-hard, brow raised. “I’m not stopping until the wheels fall off this bus,” he warned, voice low and serious. Y/N grinned like she’d just won a game. She stood, legs wobbly but determined, and began walking—no, strutting—toward the back of the bus. Over her shoulder she called, “Then come catch me, QB1.”

She let out a squeal of laughter when she heard his footsteps closing in fast. Before she could reach the bedroom, his hands were around her hips, lifting her clean off the ground as if she weighed nothing. “Joe!” she shrieked, giggling, kicking her legs in the air as he hoisted her over his shoulder. “You’re gonna need at least a week of recovery, baby,” he growled, giving her ass a firm smack for good measure. Y/N laughed breathlessly, gripping the back of his shirt. “And you’re gonna need a whole new playbook if you think I’m tappin’ out first.” Joe smirked, already carrying her to the bedroom like a man on a mission. “Oh, I’ve got plays you haven’t even seen yet.” “And I’ve got stamina you definitely underestimated,” she shot back, biting her lip as he kicked the door shut behind them. The bus might’ve had four wheels, but with the way it rocked the rest of the night, it might as well have been flying.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Hours later, when they’d both passed out and woken up again, it was Y/N who climbed on top, straddling his hips as she kissed down his chest. Joe’s fingers combed through her hair, his hips shifting as her lips trailed lower—and then she was taking him into her mouth. He groaned, eyes closing as his head tipped back, one hand still resting on her head while the other gripped the sheets. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed, hips lifting as she took him deeper. His fingers curled in her hair, gripping just enough to guide her as she moved, her tongue gliding along the underside of his cock as she bobbed her head up and down. Y/N took him as far as she could, her hand stroking where her lips didn’t reach. She hummed around him, the vibration making his cock twitch—and then, suddenly, he was pulling her off, her mouth popping off of him with a wet sound.

He sat up, his hands gripping her waist. “Up here,” he urged, voice husky, “come sit on my face.” Y/N bit her lip as she moved up, swinging a leg over his head—and then slowly, carefully, she lowered herself down. She braced herself on the headboard as Joe’s lips closed around her, his tongue slipping between her folds. He gripped her ass, holding her steady, and she let out a breathless moan as he began to eat her out. His tongue lapped at her clit, then circled it, slow and deliberate. She let out little gasps and whimpers as he worked, her hips rolling with his movements. “Joe—you’re so good,” she moaned. “Feels so good.” He groaned against her, the sound sending vibrations straight through her core. His tongue pushed inside her, then withdrew, swirling around her clit—and then he sucked, gently, and she keened, her thighs tightening around his head.

“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured against her skin, his voice sending shivers up her spine. “Then have your fill,” she gasped, hips moving as he dove back in. Y/N rocked against him, riding his face as he licked and sucked and devoured her. She was panting now, moaning, her fingers gripping the headboard for support—and then, his tongue pushed inside her again, curling and flexing, and she came with a cry, her walls clenching as her body shook.

Joe stayed with her through her orgasm, slowing as she came down but not stopping, just easing her through until she was squirming. He finally let up then, a breathless laugh against her thigh—and Y/N shifted, sliding down his body until she was straddling his hips again. This time, though, she didn’t hesitate—she gripped his cock and lowered herself onto it, taking him inside her in one smooth motion. He groaned as she filled, his hands flying to her hips. “Fuck, yes,” Joe hissed as he watched her. Her head fell back, her body taking over as she rode him, slow but steady at first. His thumb found her clit, rubbing slow circles, and she whimpered at the sensation.

She leaned forward then, hands braced on his chest as she picked up her pace. Her hips rolled, taking him as deep as she could, and Joe’s breath left him in a rush. “So good, Y/N—fuck, you feel so good,” he grit out, his jaw tight with strain. He was close, and she knew it—she could feel it in the way his cock throbbed inside her. “Come for me,” she urged him. “Please, Joe, I need you to come for me.” He moaned, his eyes rolling back, and he felt himself go over the edge. His hands gripped her hips tight, holding her down as his hips jerked up, and his cock pulsed inside her, spilling into her as he came.

Y/N kept moving, kept riding him through it until he finally relaxed, his hands slipping from her hips. She stayed where she was, though, still seated on his cock, and leaned forward to kiss him. Her lips parted against his, and he kissed her back, his tongue sliding against hers. When they broke apart, they were both breathless. “Good god, woman,” Joe whispered, laughing a little. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” Y/N just grinned. “Don’t worry. What a way to go, right?” She kissed him again, then pulled back. “Now come shower with me. I wanna try something.” Joe raised a brow, looking intrigued—and suspicious. “What do you have in mind?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’ll see.” She moved off of him, then, standing up and stretching her arms above her head—and Joe groaned at the sight, his cock already starting to harden again. “Fuck. I’m in trouble with you, aren’t I?” Y/N just winked. “You have no idea.”

The shower was cramped, but they managed. Y/N made Joe stand with his back to the wall, and then she sank to her knees. He watched her, eyes dark, as she gripped his cock with one hand. “Look at you,” he muttered, his head tipping back against the tile. “God, you’re gorgeous.” She smiled up at him, then leaned forward, tongue darting out to lick at his tip. He hissed at the sensation, and his cock twitched in her hand. “I’m gonna suck you off,” she told him, voice husky. “And then you’re going to fuck me again, right here in this shower.” He groaned. “You really are trying to kill me.” She laughed. “You love it.” And he did. He fucking loved it, everything she was doing to him, everything she said. He loved how confident she was, how demanding—how much she gave him, and how much she took.

His fingers slid into her hair as her lips closed around him, his breath leaving him in a rush. She took him deep, her tongue swirling around him—and then she pulled back, sucking hard, her hand working what she couldn’t take. “Fuck—Y/N,” he gasped, his head tipping back again. She worked him over like this, bobbing her head and stroking him with her hand, twisting just enough, until he felt himself getting close. “Y/N,” he warned, his voice tight—and she moaned around him, taking him deeper, and that was it, he was gone. His hips jerked forward, fucking her mouth as he came, his whole body shuddering with it—and she took all of him, swallowing everything he gave her. When she finally pulled back, he was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. She stood up, then, a smile on her face, and kissed him—and he could taste himself on her lips.

“Now, as promised,” she said, reaching down to stroke him again. He was still half-hard, and as she touched him, he hardened more. “Fuck,” he whispered. “How are you even real?” Y/N just laughed softly. “Lift me up,” she told him. He did, gripping her by the thighs and lifting her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him, her arms around his neck—and then she positioned him at her entrance and sank down onto him, taking his length inside her. “You feel that?” she breathed. “We’re not done yet.” And they weren’t. They fucked like that in the shower, up against the wall, until they both came again—and then they rinsed off and stumbled back to bed, completely spent and exhausted.

When they woke up the next morning, Y/N turned to Joe with a sleepy smile. “Best. Bus. Ever,” she mumbled. Joe laughed—and pulled her into his arms. “Best girl ever,” he shot back. Y/N giggled. “Oh, come on. You would’ve had your way with any girl that got on this bus, right?” “Not a chance.” He pulled back so she could see his face, could see the sincerity in his expression. “No one but you, Y/N. There’s no one in the world like you.” She blushed at that, her heart fluttering in her chest. “Aww. You just like me ’cause I can keep up with you.” Joe chuckled, pulling her close again. “I like you ’cause you can put me in my place.” She grinned. “So, I can ride your face anytime I want.”

“Fuck yes, you can. Please, do that literally all the time.” She laughed against his chest, her eyes closing again as she snuggled into him. “Okay, but after I sleep a little more. You wore me out.” “Oh, come on, I thought I underestimated your stamina.” Y/N groaned. “Don’t remind me. I think you actually broke me.” He laughed at that, kissing the top of her head. “I didn’t break you. I just made you.” “Hmm. Made me a fan of your team, that’s for sure.” He smirked. “Yeah, I thought so. And you’re gonna stay a fan, too.” “Bet on it, papi.” Y/N sighed, content, and closed her eyes again. “Good.” Joe kissed the top of her head again. “Cause you’re stuck with me now.” "Promise?" she whispered as sleep took her. “Yeah, babygirl,” Joe whispered. “I promise.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the cracks in the window blinds, casting warm slivers of light across the tangled sheets at the back of the tour bus. Y/N and Joe lay tangled up in each other—her leg draped over his hip, his hand loosely resting on her thigh. Their breaths were slow and synced, hair mussed, skin still faintly glowing with the remnants of the night before.

The soft click of the bus door unlocking didn’t wake them. Carmen, Kayla, Drea, and Layla stepped in quietly, the crew returning early to get things moving toward the next city on the tour. Shoes were kicked off in silence, bags slid into corners. They were pros at this—moving with muscle memory and practiced ease. But the second Kayla caught sight of the closed bedroom door and noticed that not a single sound had come from the back, her lips twitched with barely-suppressed mischief.

She leaned in toward the others, whispering, “I just know they broke each other. Should we check for crutches? Maybe a wheelchair for Y/N to do her set in?” That was all it took—Carmen snorted out a laugh, Drea slapped a hand over her mouth, and Layla wheezed into her hoodie sleeve, shaking with silent giggles. “I’m just saying,” Kayla added with a smirk, “if she tries to hit one of those drops in ‘Private Party’ tomorrow and folds like a lawn chair, I’m blaming QB1.” Carmen bit back her laughter as she shook her head fondly. “They’re ridiculous,” she whispered. “But... I’ve never seen her this happy. Ever.”

Drea nodded, quieter now, more thoughtful. “He’s good for her. They’re good for each other.” The teasing softened into warm smiles between them. They all felt it—the shift in Y/N lately. She was still fierce, still a powerhouse, but something about her had settled. Not dulled—just softened around the edges, like she finally had a safe place to land. “Alright,” Carmen said, taking charge again. “Let’s give ‘em another thirty, then we roll out. Let the lovebirds sleep while they can.” “And stretch,” Kayla added, winking. “They’re gonna need it.” Soft laughter rippled again, and then the girls moved like shadows through the bus—packing, prepping, and letting their girl have her well-earned rest in the arms of the man she was falling for.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Sunlight crept farther across the rumpled sheets, golden and warm as it spilled over Y/N’s bare shoulder. She stirred first—eyelashes fluttering, her nose scrunching at the soft tickle of curls against her cheek. Joe's arm was heavy around her waist, his face buried in the crook of her neck, lips barely brushing her skin with each breath. She blinked slowly, a smile tugging at her lips before she even opened her eyes fully. Her body ached—in the best way. Muscles warm and sore, her thighs trembling slightly even in stillness. She stretched just a little, and Joe grumbled sleepily against her neck.

“Mm—don’t move,” he rasped, his voice thick with sleep and something deeper. His grip tightened around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. “Not yet.” Y/N giggled softly, voice still scratchy from last night’s singing—and other activities. “You’re the one who broke me in half and now wants to cuddle like you didn’t fold me in twelve positions.” Joe smiled against her skin. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t love it.” “I did,” she murmured, reaching behind her to run her fingers through his curls. “My vocal cords might file a complaint though.” He laughed, soft and low, and kissed the curve of her shoulder. “You were amazing last night.” Y/N turned slightly so she could see him, their noses nearly brushing. “On stage or…?”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Both. But I meant the stage.” He smirked. “Mostly.” She blushed and tucked her face into his neck. “London was crazy. I’m still riding the high.” “You should be,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at her. “You owned that crowd. You were it. Every person in that audience knew it.” She smiled sleepily, eyes shining. “Even you?” He kissed her slow, deliberate. “Especially me.”

They lay there in silence for a moment, hearts beating in sync, bodies still tangled. Then a quiet thump came from the front of the bus. A soft whisper. Muffled laughter. Y/N froze. Joe opened one eye. “You think they’re back?” Y/N sighed dramatically. “God, yes. I can hear Kayla's snort from here.” Joe chuckled. “Bet they’re placing wagers on whether you can walk straight.” “They wouldn’t be wrong,” Y/N muttered, pulling the sheets up around her as she sat up slowly, wincing a little with a breathy laugh. “I feel like I just ran suicides in stilettos.”

Joe grinned as he propped himself on one elbow. “Worth it though?” She turned to look at him, all tousled hair and bare chest and sleepy grin. “So worth it.” Y/N and Joe shared a lazy smile, still tangled in the sheets, before the unmistakable sound of footsteps and muffled voices crept closer to the back of the bus. The door handle rattled gently—Kayla and Carmen had the key, ready to get the crew moving to the next city.

Y/N peeked over Joe’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded but already bracing herself for what was coming. Joe smirked, brushing a stray curl from her face. “Ready to face the firing squad?” “Not really,” Y/N murmured, voice thick with sleep and something else.

The door swung open quietly, and in slipped Carmen, Kayla, Drea, and Layla—all trying to hold back laughter but failing spectacularly. Kayla immediately zeroed in on them, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. “Morning, lovebirds. I just know you two broke each other last night.”

Y/N shot Joe a mock glare, though her cheeks flushed pink. Kayla grinned wickedly. “Do you think we need to find crutches? Or maybe a wheelchair for Y/N to perform in tonight?”

Drea and Layla burst out laughing, while Carmen just shook her head with a fond smile. Joe sat up straighter, rubbing the sleep from his eyes but clearly amused. “We’re tougher than we look.”

Kayla’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Yeah, sure. You look like you barely survived. And Y/N? Girl, if you stumble on stage, we’ll just blame it on him.” Y/N laughed, the sound warm and genuine despite the teasing. “Hey, if I stumble, it’s because he’s been distracting me all morning.” Joe reached for her hand under the blanket, squeezing it gently. “You’re the one who can’t keep her hands off me.”

Kayla shook her head, stepping back with a grin. “Okay, you two, get it together. City’s waiting, and so are the fans. But just so you know—we’re all watching.” As the crew began quietly packing up and slipping out, Carmen shot Y/N a wink. “Happy is good. Really good.” Y/N smiled, squeezing Joe’s hand once more before resting her head against his shoulder. Joe whispered low, “Ready to show Madrid what we’re made of?” Y/N smiled with that fire in her eyes. “Born ready, papi.” They finally untangled themselves from the sheets, knowing the day — and the stage — awaited. But in that quiet morning moment, surrounded by sisterly laughter and teasing, they felt something rare and perfect: a calm confidence, built on heat, tension, and unspoken promises.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The bus rolled to a gentle stop somewhere near Madrid, but today the usual buzz of activity was replaced by calm. It was an off day—no rehearsals, no press, no performances. Just time to breathe. Y/N didn’t even bother to get out of the soft cocoon of blankets that morning. Instead, she curled closer into Joe’s chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing soothing her. The sun filtered in through the window, casting warm golden light over their tangled limbs and the gentle rise of her jumpsuit’s sheer mesh catching the glow.

Joe’s arm was draped protectively over her waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin. His other hand found hers, fingers lacing together naturally. “Can’t remember the last time I slept this well,” Y/N murmured, her voice husky but content. Joe pressed a kiss to her temple, smiling softly. “Me neither. No distractions. Just us.” She tilted her head up to meet his eyes, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “Perfect.” They stayed like that, wrapped up in their own quiet world, the distant sounds of the crew moving about outside just background noise to their peaceful bubble. No words were necessary—just the simple comfort of each other’s presence.

Outside, Spain was waiting, but for now, the only place that mattered was right here, in Joe’s arms.

JB9 Taglist: @lilfreakjez, @dasia21, @superanastasia1981, @gg-trini, @wickedfun9, @irishmanwhore, @danielle143, @kayyybay

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part twelve)

tutor!jayce talis x reader, ekko x reader college au

content: you and jayce prepare for your midterm retake

notes: 18+ smut, minors dni, praise, orgasm denial, protected sex (wrap that up every time idk), cockwarming if you squint bc why not, slight brat taming(??), angst, fluff, science mentions, obligatory cliffhanger (not proofread, i will check it later! just want to update asap!!)

ps. only a few more chapters left!! i planned it all out and im actually so sad to be done with them soon.

series master list

“So it says here that your retake is an average of your first and newest grade,” Jayce skimmed the email from your professor, your laptop in his grasp. He looked over at you, “So you need the best grade you can possibly get for them to even out, ‘kay?” 

A huff escaped you, “Yup, got it.” 

He sat up from the bed and leveled with your eye line. Hands clasped your shoulders, reminding you just how large his hands were.

He reassured you. “Don’t worry. You got this. Plus—you got me this time.” 

You giggled and shrugged his hands off, “Oh please. I could solve any of these problems without you right fucking now.” You gestured toward the papers thrown across your bed. 

“Oh is that right?” 

“Absolutely.” You folded your arms and looked at Jayce expectantly. 

“Okay, then.” He grabbed a scrap piece of paper, drawing a makeshift circuit diagram. He took his time, adding and erasing figures to try and trick you, only to check his work with a smile. He held the answer in his mind, ready to accept an answer in watts or volts. 

You grabbed the paper as soon as he held it out to you, a smile ghosting over your face at the recognition of his handwriting. It was a sort of comfort to you now, an unnamed font that increased in significance with every session you had. 

He sat watching you solve the problem, mostly staring at the minuscule details of your face as you tackled the many nuances of the circuit. It was complex and he knew it. To him, all of this would be worth it if in moments like these you could come up with the correct answer. It meant that he’d inherently done a good job, that he didn’t fail at this. He swore to himself that everyday he would be the best version of Jayce that he could be—for his mom, for himself, for his friends…for you. 

The feeling was overwhelming, building in him like a circuit fuse ready to pop. Life for him was constantly flipping switches, observing what he’d let go awry and fry his own internal circuit breaker. In one moment he was so bogged down by his own aspirations, the next the need to be everything his mom needed him to be. It made sense, then, that he was never operating at the fullest capacity he could be…a switch was always off, he was always exhausted. His thoughts of you would always seemingly be last, Jayce only acknowledging them in the quiet hours of the night when there was nothing else to be done, no other calculations to check. He hated that, you deserved better. 

A giggle from you broke the thought, “Done!”

“Let me see-“ He snatched your work, “That was way too fast.” 

He kept his face still, exaggerating his gaze while he checked over your work. He was admittedly stunned; you had the right answer and all the accompanying work was right. There were lingering marks of other notes, ones you erased as you remembered his advice…to check your work. He let a hand trail up the page, a finger gliding over where yours had been moments prior. 

He smiled, finally, “You did great.” He looked up and made eye contact, “This is amazing.” 

You scoffed, feeling an embarrassed tingle at how sincere he was. “Please—it’s nothing.” You shook your head, breaking the eye contact. 

“Hey-“ he grasped your face, bending his neck to meet your eyes with his. “What did we say about giving yourself more credit? Hm?” 

You didn’t speak, just shook your head more in an attempt to shrug him away. He didn’t let go, pulling you in for a quick peck on your lips. When he pulled away, he kept the distance small, letting you finally look at him. The sensation grounded you—Jayce always could. 

You were first to lean in again. Chasing the feeling of him again felt so routine to you now. You couldn’t be in his presence without waiting to be wrapped up in every part of him. You yearned for the smell of him, lingering wood shavings in his clothes, and the feeling of security simply because of his existence. 

He fell into you without thinking, letting his hands roam around your body as he nipped at your lips. He wanted to have you always, discarding the idea of holding you sweetly in lieu of his constant desire to feel you. He thought about this for so long, even held himself back last time. He wanted to be in you, to connect in a way nobody else could, not when he felt like this. 

He broke the kiss to speak, “Take off your pants.” 

You let a hand trail down without breaking the kiss. Your eyes opened in anticipation, needing to see his face as you rubbed over the hardened length in his sweatpants. 

Letting out a breath, you spoke between pumps into him. “If you need me that bad why don’t you take ‘em off? Hm?” 

“God,” his brows pressed together, forehead wrinkling with them. 

He didn’t let another moment pass, first shifting to free himself before moving to you. It wasn’t slow or seductive—not at all measured. It was fast, in fact, fueled by his recurrent thoughts of you. 

He pushed you back, letting a finger trail over your building wetness before slipping two into you. You were immediately pulled back to the day before, the strength of his hands pushing in and out of you. Joyce’s hands were rough, calloused by the amount of work he did with them. He used that to his advantage and let the palm of his hand add to the friction. You were inching toward him, feeling that familiar knot in you already. He could tell, and pulled away. 

“Jayce-“ 

“Shhh, not yet.” He quelled your whines, already using the mix of you and him to lather himself up over a condom. He groaned at the thought, that this was only a precursor to what he’d feel in mere seconds. “Gonna make you feel good, okay?” 

You nodded, biting your lip now. “Mhm.” 

“I just need you to do something for me, okay?” He motioned for you to slide closer to the edge of the bed, grabbing your legs. He angled himself just right to allow an inch of him inside you. He was sensitive, letting out a hiss at the way you were gripping him already. Through bated breath he continued, “Need you to say you’re proud of yourself, something positive.” 

“You’re not serious-“ 

He cut you off, sliding in deeper, “Extremely.” 

“Jayce, I’m not, fuck.” He started to move in and out of you slowly, kneading the skin at your thighs. “I can’t—not like this.” You could hardly breathe and he was only part way into you, bracing you for his full length yet simultaneously leaving you internally needing more. 

“Go ahead,” he pushed the creases out of your forehead. The tip of him was hitting your walls at an angle, pressing a spot that had your eyes rolling back. He tapped your face lightly, “Hey, look at me.” 

You did. It was difficult—watching him pull in and out of you at a torturous pace. His stare was almost one of pity, that you couldn’t form a sentence. It didn’t deter him, only let him savor this for so much longer. 

“I-I,” your voice trailed off at another inch of him. “Fuck…I’m proud of myself!” It came out rushed, almost under your breath but at a squeak that satisfied the man. 

“You should be,” he let himself slip in completely now, even gasping at the way his balls now hit your skin over and over. “You should be so proud of yourself, you’re taking me so well, sweetheart.” 

You sat up a bit at that, needing him even more now. “Come here.” You grasped at his back, pulling him flush with you. 

You were completely wrapped up now, Jayce’s hands falling behind you and hugging you like he never wanted to separate. You writhed into him, matching his slow pace. It was sweet, the way he tended to you—forcing whimpers from you every second. It was so different from the way it started, the rushed way he ripped off your pants. Jayce admittedly knew this was more, that he’d never been this slow or intentional with anyone. 

You shook a bit, letting him know you wouldn’t last much longer. That broke his pace, making him sit up to remove his shirt—now fully naked. You moved to do the same, the unspoken need to be completely bare when this was over took control. He went to hold you again, a feel he didn’t know he needed. The sheen of sweat on you both slipped against each other, allowing for an added sensation on your chest. 

He let himself fall to your shoulder, nestling into your neck. His moans in your ear spurred you on, snapping into Jayce. He kept going, letting the after shocks tumble from you as he came too. It was a unique feeling, to feel so strongly at the same time. It was unspoken—but you both could tell. 

He stayed in you, brushing over your face. “I should probably get Mel a thank you card or something.” 

Over the next 36 hours you two stayed that way, enamored with one another and using every moment that you weren’t studying to tear each other apart. It was messy but mandatory, something that had to happen. 

Eventually, you found yourself at the retake. The sight of several other students there made you feel better. You’d been hard on yourself—discouraged by the failure. 

You moved through the questions, checking and rechecking your work. You recalled all Jayce told you, even some of your own funny quips from your sessions. It let you smile, easing your mind. 

After some time, you were done. This was different; you wouldn’t get the results but rather the average uploaded directly to the grade book. It worried you, inherently, not knowing what you got. All you could do was imagine the possibilities, what you did wrong. 

All of that was silenced when you saw Jayce. He’d walked and waited for you, supportive the entire time. 

“How’d it go?” 

“Not sure, I think I did alright?” 

He arched a brow at that, not liking your answer. “What was that?” 

You huffed, smiling now. “I did good.” You started to walk away from your class and out of the building.

He pivoted on his feet to move for the door, opening it for you. “Damn right you did.” 

Leaving the building with Jayce on your trail was a new sensation you admittedly enjoyed—even more so after your retake. You felt his arm on you, then a quick but firm kiss to your temple before he pulled away. It was new, unlike any exchanges you had before. It was almost too real. 

The sound of your name had a similar impact, making your stomach turn. 

“Ekko?�� You knew before you even looked. You lowered your head, acknowledging how this must look. 

Ekko pushed off the wall, seemingly also waiting for you. “I heard there were retakes, figured you’d need support.” He looked between you and Jayce, “Looks like you have that already.” 

“Ekko-“ 

“You two together now or something?” 

“No,” it came out harsher than you intended. You let yourself glance at Jayce, his expression unreadable. You simply shook your head as Ekko continued. 

“So we kiss and then you just what? You run into his arms?” 

Jayce interjected, looking at your stunned face. “Wait let’s just-“ 

“I’m not talking to you.” 

All of you stilled, remembering Jayce and Ekko’s first real run-in with each other…how quickly it had turned sour. 

You whispered, reverting into a shell you hadn’t been in for so long. “It’s not like that, Ekko.” 

“Of course it is. You’re the most fickle person I know.” 

“Okay,” Jayce stepped half in front of you and glanced back again to see your frozen figure. “You should stop, you’re embarrassing yourself.” 

“Me? No, I think whatever this is,” he motioned between you, “That’s embarrassing.” He walked away without another word. 

The silence between you was deafening. It was filled with so many emotions that you couldn’t pinpoint which one was the most indicative of your feelings right now. You swallowed, looking up at Jayce’s back just as he turned to you. His face was one of defense. It was brick, a protective layer there to give you the support you needed. Quickly it turned, though. At the flip of a switch he was confused, saddened. Your face searched his, confused at his mood change. 

He looked at you seriously. “You kissed him?” 

tag list

@juskonutoh @sseleniaa @aerina127 @sleepysoldier @angelicmisty @1800latenitecreep @venus-in-roses @myxticmoon @rando-no-5 @pebble-bb @morosluvbug @gorgeouslylethal

next part

[oval3000]

Chapter 2

Yandere Psych Patient König x Nurse Reader

Warning: Possesive, Obsession, Death, Gore, Blood, Smut, Toxic behavior, age gap.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

(This story might suck idk)

-------------------------------------------------------

Jacob slammed one of the medicine drawers close after getting the bottle of pills from a specific patient. "I don't know what miracle came down here, but we haven't had an accident in a month." He said to a fellow nurse standing next to him.

"Don't jinx it," she said grabbing the pill bottle from his hands.

"You know," he stared at your section, watching as you typed what you needed into the computer," ever since she started working here, König hasn't bashed anyone's heads."

"Well it's only been a month since she started working here, I wouldn't be relieved yet." She said, popping two pills into a Dixie cup.

"Yeah well I'm very optimistic about this." He got up and walked away. "Oh if the drawer gets stuck again, just bang on it a few times."

"It would be better if they just get new ones," she sighed, walking away towards her row of patients.

He rolled his eyes, "please they're too stingy to buy new bed sheets."

You have been working here for a month and so far everything was okay. You do what you need to do and things go smoothly.

As for König, he hasn't said or do anything towards you. You honestly felt like they were fooling you by telling you all those stories about his past nurses and guards.

You learned more about the staff names on all floors. König's two guards are named Eli and Gabriel. They both make sure that nothing happens to you aswell as any other staff.

You met Dr. Smith. You first impression of her was a little stiff. Mainly because she was direct and serious. She doesn't really make small talk to any of the nurses only the administrator. She also doesn't really fond of you. Well it's not like she hates you, is more of she critics anything you do. From the way you gather the medical supplies to the way you check patients vitals. During her visit with König, you stay outside the room so you don't know what goes on in there.

You saw when she exited the room alongside Eli and Gabriel, taking König back to his room. You didn't need to look up to know that Dr. Smith was walking towards, her heels made it obvious. "He will no longer take his usual calming medication, he'll take this one." She gave you the doctors order.

"benzodiazepines?" He was fine with his usual one.

She looked at you with her eyebrows forward "Yes. Is there a problem."

"Wouldn't the short term use cause him more problems compared to how he is now. I mean, he's been doing good lately and his oth-'

"Are you a doctor (Y/n)?" She tilted her head as she gives you a serious stern look.

"No."

"Right, I call shots for what is good for my patients. So if I tell you to order his new medicine then you order his new medicine! Is there a problem!?" Her high pitch tone caused the other nurses to look at you.

You look around mentally slapping yourself in the face. Of course she knows more than you, you are just a nurse. "No, Dr. Smith. I'll order them asap."

"Good. Make sure that his primary physician knows about it too and next time you question me, go back to school to get a lab coat. You are a nurse, you do what I say."

She left leaving the echo of her heels scraping the white tile floors. You cursed under your breath while picking up the phone. Calling in orders for prescription is a pain in the ass. Well the hospital it is, you're not familiar with a psychiatric hospital. The last thing you need is to be at hold for three hours trying to get it through.

"We need medical attention at room #526!" You heard Eli. You quickly ran to König's room and saw Gabriel on the floor, holding his mouth as blood was coming out. You turned your head to take a look at König. He was standing there with blood on his nuckles. He's tall, you never got a good look on how tall he was. This man is a mountain an actual mountain.

"What happened?" Jacob entered in seeing the mess.

"I need gauze pads and bandages.' You said holding onto Gabriel. König saw as you attended him. You're his nurse not Gabriel's. You should be attending König not him. The other guards came in to help Gabriel getting up while the others trying to hold König down. Jacob came in with the medical tray. He flicked a needle, trying to get any air bubbles out. You got up as they took Gabriel out, "what are you doing?"

"Everytime he does this, we have to put him down" He made his way towards König while two other guards were trying to hold him down. Compared to the guards themselves they looked like little children against König.

You went in front of Jacob, "You don't have to do that. It will make him think more irrationally. Please he is my patient."

He lowered the needle down giving you a sigh, "Fine. I'll go make a report. But you still can't be here unless two guards are present."

"Okay." The two guards let König's arms go.

Eli and Jacob left to talk to the administrator. You picked up the gauze pads and bandage from the trey.

You haven't made eye contact with König. You've always been too nervous about that, but you had to see him to examine him. You saw him, you saw his face. He had stuble. His features are strong and sharp, his jawline looks like it can cut anybody. He had scars on his face one through his mouth and the other one through his eye. His eyes are blue a nice clear blue, which stood out against his dark under circles. He was probably the most handsome patient you have ever seen. No, not patient, the most handsome men you have ever seen.

You walk towards him, slowly. You looked up to him, your face aligned to his torso . His white t-shirt was snuged and hugged all his curves on his abdomen. You can see the outline of his perfect abs and chest area. His biceps make it look the arm holes of his shirt are going to pop open. His hair was a perfect shade of brown, almost golden. Like before, it wasn't long or short, it was a good length, enough to make a little lazy ponytail.

You stuck out your hand as he placed his on top of yours. Your hand looks barley visible compared to his. You took a peace of gauze and dabbed it on his bloody nuckle. He didn't have any wounds from the punch he gave grabriel. If anything, the blood you are wiping away is Gabriel's.

König stared at you. He saw how concentrated you are with him, how gentle you are with him and how carring you are to him. The fact that you stood up for him from getting sedated, it was a like a call for him that you are his officially.

I mean he did it for you. No one knows the other half the story, they always accuse of the one that looks guilty. When Eli and Gabriel went to take him back to his room, König heard the comments they made about you. All the comments made by Gabriel.

Sure, Gabriel is nice to you, but he looks like a jerk and he is one. He's nice to you, but behind your back he thinks you are an object. Talking about how he wants to take you, not for a date, but for a nice dinner so that he can fuck you later in his car and most likely never talk to you again afterwards...unless he's desperate for sex again

König couldn't let that slide. Talking about you like a sex toy. Talking about you like you don't have emotions. Yes, König has killed men and women that don't really deserve it, but you. Someone that stood up for him. That attends when he needs or wants something. He wanted Jell-O during lunch, but no one was giving him one. Then you came inside the dining room and saw that he didn't have Jell-O like the rest so you gave him one. It's like you read his mind. You don't deserve to be treated this way. It reminds him of himself when he was a kid.

Being bullied for just being nice, for being who he is. He wants to protect you that's all he wanted to do. So he punch Gabriel after hearing his plan to seduce and fuck you then leaving you alone for yourself without a care in the world. He was easy, just one punch and he was down on floor holding his bloody mouth.

You cleaned him up and sat him down on his bed. He wanted to grab your waist and pull you closer to him. To kiss you as a thank you.

He was never lucky with the women, who would be with someone who's a looser. He remembers the time in high-school when girls will ask him out only to laugh at his face when he thought they were serious. Before he left to go to the military he met a girl. The girl just wanted some free drinks so she talked into him for some free stuff. He lost his virginity to her and felt as if he found the one. But to her he was her wallet, a way to get free things and rides for her and her friends. He bought her flowers, teddy bears, chocolates. Took her out to romantic dates that he tried so hard to assemble. Only to walk in on her having sex with another men, in his bedroom on his bed in his place that he pays for. He hoped that she was just drunk or scared..maybe, but no.

"Seriously König, you thought that I cared about you? I mean you are not even good at sex. I was just using you for the free stuff. I just wanted free drinks jeez! It's not my fault you couldn't take a hint."

He saw how they both laughed at his face. How they both just sat there naked, laughing at him as if he was the punchline to a joke.

"Believe me I never wanted this to happen! Especially after getting that dam abortion. But it doesn't matter cause you paid for it."

She wanted money to buy a new dress. She used it to have an abortion. He felt tears running down his face. They didn't feel bad, no, they laughed harder at him at how pathetic he was.

"Why would I even be with a looser."

He remembered how those kids would push him down the slide. How they would rip away his comic books. How they broke everyone one of his toys.

"Looser!"

"Looser!Looser!"

his fist turned white, he felt his fingernails, cutting deep into his palm. The girl he thought was the one was taunting him along his boy toy. He walked up to them. They expected him to bawl like a baby and beg for an apology. Instead, he choked her. His hands gripped tight around her neck. He felt some punches coming from her boy toy, telling König to stop, to let her go.

He saw as the life of her eyes went away. He heard as her neck cracked and dropped her back on the bed. He turned the guy, choking him to death aswell.

He hid the bodies, ran away, joined the military and found a new way to live.

You heard other male voices coming from the elevator and the administrator coming in. "What happened!?"

"He attacked Gabriel." You said to him, you saw what was behind him, other doctors.

"Put him in a straitjacket." He pointed to König

"What no!" You said getting in between him and König.

"Excuse me!?"

"Putting him in a straitjacket isn't going to solve anything."

He crossed his arms while looking down at you "Doing nothing will solve nothing, (Y/n)!"

You turned to König who had a stoic expression "I know, but I'm sure there are oth-"

"What are you again, (Y/n)?" he blurted out.

You knew where this is going. Twice in one day, you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "A nurse."

He gave you a small smirk, the same one Dr. Smith gave you. "Exactly. A nurse. I'm your superior, you don't get to tell me what to do. Your job is to take his vitals, and give him medication not to throw orders around! Do I make myself clear!" He stepped closer to you. You wanted to back away, but you felt frozen. He was directly infront of your face. "Now, move aside so we can our jobs!"

You looked down on the floor. You never felt so light headed as you did now. The other voices coming from them were echoes. You felt nausea and sweating. Your heart felt like it was pounding from your chest, but it sounded like a blur. "S-sorry.. sir." You always feel week when people yell at you.

"Next time you do something like that, you're out of here, (Y/n). " He said as you all watched König being put in a straitjacket.

The administrator, Ben, saw König. He was taken back a bit. The look he gave him. As if he was killing him right on the spot. König no longer had the stoic expression, he gave him a death stare.

Who does he think he is to yell at you for being nice to him. To threatened her. They are all the same. Everyone here is all same. The same kids that shoved him around the boys bathroom when he was 10. The same as those girls that laughed at him that laughed at his face.

But instead of him being the victim, is you. You're so weak and innocent, how can someone treat you like that.

But it's okay because you'll have König by his side. He'll make sure to save you.

To care for you.

To love you.

To make you his.

[winchesterwild78]

The Tutor

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: Nothing too bad yet, just a chapter to establish the story. Some language and some physical grabbing.

**Trigger Warning: Some of this chapter could be considered Domestic Violence. It’s grabbing an arm, and being controlling.**

A/N: Just a quick idea that popped in my head. A short series, maybe 2 or 3 chapters. I don’t know yet. No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction. Jensen has children in this, but I do not use their real names. 

Reader is a teacher and is asked to tutor Jensen’s child. Things develop between Jensen and the reader. I do not condone cheating, again, this is a work of fiction.

This chapter got a little long. Sorry not sorry. 😀

Minors DNI 18+

It was about 5 am when your alarm went off. You rolled over, grumbled and turned it off. Your husband was still sleeping next to you. Crawling out of bed you went to your bathroom and jumped in the shower. 

About 15 minutes later you were dressed and ready for work. You’d been a teacher for about 10 years, and you loved every second of it. Your husband encouraged you to expand your talent and offer tutoring in the afternoons as a way to help save money for the summer months when you didn’t get paid. 

You talked to the principal of your school and she told you she’d put out feelers to see if anyone had a lead on a possible need for a tutor. 

Grabbing your coffee, lunch and bag you headed for your car. It was a chilly morning, but you welcomed the change in temperature. As you pulled in the parking lot to the school, you noticed you were one of the first ones there. 

You sighed, gathered your things and got out of your car. As you walked in the building you saw the principal was in her office already. “Hey, Y/N, hold on a second.” You walked to her office door and waited for her to get off the phone.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m glad I caught you. So I talked to a friend of mine and she said she knows a couple who is looking for a tutor for their children. They have 3 kids, an older daughter, and a set of twins, a boy and a girl. The mother is out of town, but the father wanted to come in and see you in action and then sit down with you. Is that okay with you?”

“Oh, yeah that’s fine. Is he coming in today?” “Yes, if you were okay with it he wanted to come in today. If they decided to go with you, they’d want you to start ASAP.”

“Um, okay. Yeah. That’s fine. Hopefully it doesn’t distract my kiddos, but sure. Tell him to come by whenever.” “Great! I’ll give him a call.” You nodded and walked to your classroom.

Before the kids arrived, you sent your husband a text.

You: Hey, I might have a potential tutoring gig. Ms Smith is having a dad come in today. He and his wife wanted to see me in action. I’d be tutoring their three kids. I’ll let you know how it goes. I love you, babe.

Hubby: That’s great, you sure three kids won’t be too much? I love you too.

You: 3 kids? I teach 22 kids all day. I think I can handle 3.

Hubby: Yeah, you’re right. 

You finished getting things ready for the day as the kids started to arrive. “Good morning Ms Y/L/N!” The kids greeted you as they came into the room. “Good morning everyone.” 

Once the students got settled you called them to sit on the carpet to talk about today and how there might be a visitor. They were excited. You taught 5 & 6 year olds, so anytime there was a visitor it was always a big deal. 

“Now I want you all to be on your best behavior, and if we have a visitor I want you to do your best to ignore them, okay?” The kids nodded in agreement. 

A few hours later you were reading a book to your students when you heard your classroom door open. Glancing over you saw the principal and a man walk in. You kept teaching, not paying attention to the people in the room. 

When you read books, you are very animated. The kids would giggle and were completely engaged. At the end of your story you asked questions and called on some students to answer. A few minutes later you had them go back to their desks to complete the writing assignment you had given them. 

As you walked around checking their writing the principal approached you. “Ms Y/L/N, this is Mr Ackles. Mr Ackles, this is Ms. Y/L/N, our favorite Kindergarten teacher.” Your eyes went wide. Standing in your classroom was Jensen Ackles. His green eyes sparkling like emeralds under the fluorescent lights, his sandy brown hair perfectly styled, and he smelled like heaven. 

He extended his hand to shake yours. “Hello Ms Y/L/N, I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.” You took his hand in yours and your breath hitched. You knew who he was, you’d been a fan for years. “Nice to meet you too, Mr Ackles. I look forward to speaking with you more about the tutoring needs of your children.” 

He smiled and nodded. The two of you couldn’t tear your eyes away from each other. You unconsciously bit your lip. The sound of a little voice pulled you two out of your trance. “Ms Y/L/N, is this right?” One of your students came up with her paper for you to check. “So what should this sentence start with?” Her bright eyes looking at you and then down at her paper, “Um, oh a capital.” You smiled and nodded.

She went back to her seat and fixed her paper. “Okay guys, remember to capitalize, and illustrate your writing. Don’t forget your setting and color.”

Your principal came up to you, “We are going to head out, I’ll give Mr. Ackles your number so you two can set up a meeting.” You nodded and thanked them, then they left.

Your heart was still pounding in your chest and you felt a warmth fill your body. Girl, get it together. He’s way out of your league, both of you are married, and you might be tutoring his children. This is just a celebrity crush. Keep it professional. 

The end of the day came quickly. You were cleaning up your classroom when you heard a knock on your classroom door. Looking up you saw Jensen. Your breath caught in your throat. “Excuse me Ms Y/L/N, I hope I’m not disturbing you.” “Oh no, I’m just cleaning up before heading home. How can I help you Mr Ackles?” 

“Well I really liked what I saw today. You were engaging and gentle but you can see your students know your expectations. I’d like to offer you the tutoring job if you’d like it.” “Oh, of course. May I meet your children before I officially start? This won’t work if the kids don’t like me.” 

Jensen smiled and nodded. “I’ll text you my address and you’re welcome to come by this afternoon.” “Sure, that would be great. I can’t wait to meet them and your wife.” You smiled. “Well, she’s out of town right now, so that will have to wait.” “Okay. If you need to wait for her, that's fine. I want her to be fine with me tutoring the kids too.” “Nope, this was something we’d talked about before she left, and she knew I was going to hire someone as soon as I could.”

“Okay, great. I’ll come by this afternoon then. I’ll see you later Mr Ackles.” “Jensen, please call me Jensen.” “Jensen, then. Feel free to call me Y/N.” He smiled and so did you. When he left you pulled out your phone to text your husband.

You: Hey, heading to meet the kids I might be tutoring. The dad asked me to come by this afternoon.

Hubby: Okay, I’ll see you at home later then. Love you

You: I love you too. 

You set your phone down and finished cleaning. A few minutes later your phone went off.

Unknown: Hey, Y/N. This is Jensen. My address is 123 E Main Street. Can’t wait for the kids to meet you.

You: Hey, Jensen. I can’t wait to meet them either. I’ll be there in about 20 minutes. Just finishing up here. 

Jensen: Great! See you then.

You finished what you were doing and grabbed your stuff heading out of the school. Driving to Jensen’s house you were nervous but excited. You’d tutored before, but never for a celebrity and definitely not for someone you had been crushing on for decades. 

Pulling down the long driveway you were in awe at the spacious home that stood before you. Putting your car in park, you grabbed your bag and got out. 

Before you could knock on the door it opened and Jensen greeted you with a smile. “Hey, Y/N, glad you could make it.” “Hello, Mr. Ackles, thank you for having me.” “Please, call me Jensen.” You nodded and smiled, “Okay, Jensen.” 

He welcomed you into his spacious home and led you to the living room. “Please have a seat, and I’ll get the kids down here. Would you like anything to drink? Tea, water?” “Um, sure, I’ll have water if you don’t mind.” “Sure thing. I’ll grab it and the kids.”

You sat on the couch as Jensen left the room. You heard him calling the kids and the sound of feet on the stairs. 

Jensen and the kids came back to the room. He handed you the water. “Thank you.” He nodded and smiled. “Kids, this is Ms Y/L/N, she’s going to be your tutor. Ms Y/L/N, this is my oldest, Annie, and the twins, Jessica and Jensen Jr., we call him Jr.” “Hi guys, it’s nice to finally meet you three.” “Hello Ms Y/L/N, it’s nice to meet you too.” Jensen’s son walked over and sat next to you, “Are you married? Do you have any kids?” “Yes I am married, and no I don’t have any children yet. I’m a teacher so my students are like my kids right now.” 

The five of you sat in the living room talking and getting to know each other. After the kids got tired of talking and asking you questions, they left the room. Leaving you and Jensen alone. “So, Y/N, what do you think? Think you can handle them?” You smiled and nodded, “Yes. They seem really sweet, I’d be just fine with them.” 

“Well, all that’s left is to talk about schedule, pay, and the NDA. The NDA is to protect everyone involved. You’re more than welcome to contact an attorney to look it over.” You smiled and nodded. About 45 minutes later you and Jensen had talked about your schedule, the pay and he’d given you the NDA.

“So, Y/N, do you have any additional questions for me?” “Yes, when will your wife be back, I’d love to meet her too.” “She won’t be back for a few weeks, but you’ll get to meet her when she returns.” You nodded and stood, “Well, Jensen I better leave you to it. I need to get home anyway. I have some things to do for work.” “Of course, well thank you again for coming by this evening. Let me walk you out.” 

The two of you walked towards the door. “Thank you again, Y/N for agreeing to take this job. We’ve interviewed so many people and they couldn’t get past my status to focus on the kids.” “If I’m being honest Jensen, I’ve been a fan of yours for years, but I promise that will not interfere with my job.” Jensen stepped a little closer to you, and your heart beat faster, “I’m glad. I think this is going to work out for everyone.” A blush filled your cheeks and you bit your lip. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jensen. Please tell the kids goodbye.” He nodded as you stepped out of the house.

Getting into your car, you let out the breath you’d been holding. Driving home you couldn’t focus on anything but how gorgeous Jensen looked. Stop it girl! You work for him now. If you can’t stop these thoughts there is no way you’re going to be able to work for him. Your focus should be on his children. Both of you are married, and his wife is absolutely gorgeous. 

About a half hour later you were pulling in your driveway. Your husband was already home. Walking in the house you announced you were home, “Honey I’m home.” Your husband, Jeff, came around the corner and pulled you into a hug and a kiss. 

“How was the meeting with the family?” He asked as he pulled back. “It was great. The kids are so sweet. The wife is out of town and the dad is super nice too. There is a little problem. Well, not really a problem, but something I need to tell you.” “Okay, babe, is everything okay?” “Yeah, so the dad asked me to sign an NDA.” Your husband laughed, “Why is he a secret service agent or a celebrity?” You got a serious look on your face and your husband’s laughter died down. “What? Is he really?” “He and his wife are celebrities. It’s Jensen Ackles.”

Your husband pulled away and looked at you in surprise. He knew how much you liked Jensen and how much of a fan you’d been. “Yeah, I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with you working for him.” You looked at him confused, “What? Why not?” “Oh I don’t know, maybe because you’ve had the hots for him for years.” 

“Jeff, come on, really? I have no interest in him. I love you and I’m married to you. This is a job to help bring in more income for us. Besides, the pay is incredible. I tried to negotiate because I felt it was too much, but he insisted. We’d make enough in two months to pay off our credit cards.” 

Your husband’s jaw tightened, “I don’t care. I forbid you to take this job!” “I’m sorry, what? You forbid me?!? What the hell is wrong with you?” He stepped closer to you, “You heard me. You can’t take the job.” You scoffed and walked away. Jeff grabbed your arm, “Don’t fucking walk away from me!” “Let me go Jeff!” You pulled your arm away and walked to your shared room, locking the door behind you.

You sat on your bed and cried. How could he act like this? You two had been married for years and never had you given him a reason to doubt your loyalty. He’d never grabbed you before and you would never let him do it again. 

You pulled out your phone and sent a text to your best friend.

You: Hey, can I come crash at your place for a bit. Jeff and I had a bad fight. I don’t want to be here right now.

Y/B/F: Absolutely. Are you okay? Do you need me and hubby to come over?

You: Yeah, I’m okay. No, I’ll be okay. I’ll call if I need you.

Y/B/F: Okay babes, see you soon.

You grabbed your suitcase and put some work clothes and casual clothes in it. You grabbed your toiletries and other things you needed. As you walked out into the living room Jeff was sitting on the couch. You could see he was still pissed. “Have you come to your senses, Y/N?” “Yes I have, I’m going to Y/B/F’s house until I figure things out. You will NEVER put your hands on me again!” 

He stood and your heart beat fast. As he walked closer to you, you could see the rage in his face. You had been with him for years and you had never seen him like this, you were scared. 

Jeff stepped closer to you, mere inches from your face, “That’s right, go run to her house and go be his whore.” You didn’t say anything. You grabbed your bags and left. 

Driving down the road the tears started to fall. How could he act like this over a simple job? Why was he so jealous over Jensen? Sure you liked him, but you would never act on those feelings.

Pulling into your friend’s driveway you saw her open the door before you got out of the car. She ran up to you and threw her arms around you. “Oh sweetie, what happened?” She saw your tear stained face. “I told him about the tutoring job I took and he lost it. Told me I couldn’t take it and then he grabbed my arm. When I told him I was leaving he told me to go be the dad’s whore. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” 

“Let’s get you inside, eat and I’ll open a bottle of wine. Then we can talk.” You nodded and grabbed your things. Her husband walked over and gave you a big hug, “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I’m gonna head out so you girls can chat. Enjoy dinner.” He placed a kiss on your head before heading out the door. 

Y/F/N and you grabbed the food, and wine and sat down in the living room. “So why would he get so pissed about a tutoring job?” “Well the dad asked me to sign an NDA, he’s a celebrity. I guess Jeff thought I’d sleep with the dad or something. I just don’t understand.” “Oooh who is it?” “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. Maybe I can ask if I can tell you, but I want to respect his privacy.” “I get it, but Jeff still shouldn’t have gotten pissed about it. Sounds like he’s got something to hide honestly.”

You hadn’t thought about that before, but now you couldn’t get it out of your head. Maybe he was the one cheating on you and was projecting. “Well even if he is, I don’t think I can go back to him. After he put his hands on me and the way he tried to intimidate me before I left. I can’t live with that fear.” “You are welcome to stay here as long as you want. We’ve got you girl, and don’t worry he won’t get near you here.”

*Time Jump 3 months*

“Okay guys, let’s get up and stretch for a bit. We’ve been working hard. Who wants to go outside and play for a bit?” You asked the kids after spending about an hour working with them at the kitchen table. The kids jumped up and ran outside, laughing and racing each other. You smiled as you started to clean up the table. 

Jensen walked into the kitchen and smiled, “Break time, I see.” “Yeah, they needed a break and so did I. Can I get you a coffee, Jensen?” Jensen walked over to the coffee pot, “No, let me get one for you. You’ve been busy educating my children. It’s the least I can do.” 

Jensen grabbed a coffee cup and filled it up, sliding it to you at the kitchen bar. You nodded and told him thank you. He filled one up and leaned against the counter. “So, how are they doing? Are you still okay with working with all three of them?” “Oh they are amazing children. You and your wife should be very proud of them. I adore them.” 

“Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate that.” “So if you don’t mind me asking, when is Mrs. Ackles coming home? I know she’s been out of town on a trip for about a week.” “Oh, yeah she’s on a girls trip. I believe she will come back next week. Maybe she’ll be around more after she gets back.” You could see the pain in his eyes and it broke your heart. “Well I can’t wait to sit and chat with her. I enjoy talking to you, and I’m sure I’ll enjoy sitting and talking to her too.” 

There was a pregnant silence that fell between you two, you looked up and met his eyes. They had a softness to them and were full of kindness. You blushed and smiled. The silence was broken by the sounds of crying. Jensen and you jumped up and ran outside. His daughter, Jessica was sitting on the ground crying. You and Jensen ran over to her and saw her knee was bleeding. 

Jensen scooped her up and carried her in the house. He sat her on the counter and you stood next to her. “Shh, it’s okay baby girl. Your daddy is going to get the first aid kit.” You rubbed her back and wiped her tears. 

Jensen came back carrying the first aid box. You held Jessica’s hand as he cleaned up the wound. “So Jess, what do you want for dinner? I bet you can get your daddy to get you whatever you want.” “I want cheeseburgers and ice cream, she sniffled.” “Ooh that sounds yummy. Does your daddy make good burgers?” She smiled and nodded. 

“Okay baby girl, all done.” Jessica looked at Jensen, “It didn’t even hurt.” Her eyes were wide. You smiled and Jensen looked over at you and smiled. “Well I think Ms Y/N has the magic touch then.” “Yes she does. Ms Y/N, can you stay for dinner?” Jensen was shocked, “Oh honey, Ms. Y/N has to get home to her husband. She can’t stay for dinner.” 

“Well, Jessica, if it’s okay with your dad I’d love to stay for dinner.” “Yay! I’m gonna go tell Jr and Annie.” You helped her down and she took off. As you were helping Jensen clean up, he looked at you, “Thank you for keeping her calm, but you really don’t have to stay. I’m sure your husband is waiting for you.” 

You put your head down, trying to hold back the tears. Taking a deep breath, “No, he’s not. I really would like to stay if you’re okay with it.” “Yes, that would be great. Jess really wants you to stay.” “Okay, let me help you cook then.” “Oh no ma’am, you are our guest.” 

You smiled “Please, it’s the least I can do.” “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?” “Nope, you’re not.” You laughed. “Okay, fine.” He chuckled.

Thirty minutes later you and Jensen were calling the kids in to wash up for dinner. Dinner was delicious and after dinner Jensen pulled out the ice cream. Jessica was excited, because they didn’t get ice cream often. “My wife would kill me if she knew I was giving them ice cream. They tend to get a little wild.” You both laughed. 

After ice cream, the kids went to the living room to watch tv while you helped Jensen clean up the kitchen. His phone rang as you two were cleaning. He sighed before he answered and walked out of the room. 

You kept cleaning and a few minutes later he came back in. “Sorry about that. It was my wife. She wanted to talk to the kids.” “Oh it’s not a problem. That’s sweet she calls when she’s away.” “Yeah, it is.” His jaw tightened a bit. 

The two of you reached for a bowl at the same time and your hands brushed against each other. A chill went through your body. You two looked at each other and you bit your lip, he swallowed hard. 

“Sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand back. “It’s okay.” Jensen cleared his throat, “Well it’s getting late. I’m sure your husband is worried about you.” You took a deep breath, “No, we um, actually split up a little over 3 months ago.” Jensen placed his hand on yours, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That has to be hard.” “Yeah, it has been. Things just got really bad, so I left. I’ve been living with my best friend and her husband since.” 

“Well, if it gets too crazy there we have a guesthouse you’re welcome to stay in. I know the kids would love to have you around more.” You smiled, “That’s a generous offer, but I think I’m okay where I am right now. Besides, that’s a decision I think your wife should be included in.” “I understand, the offer stands though. She’d be fine with it. She’s always willing to help people.” “Thank you, I appreciate that. I’ll keep it in mind.” 

About an hour later the kids were in bed and you were getting ready to head home. “Well, thank you for dinner and a wonderful evening. I will see you on Monday.” Jensen stood to walk you to the door. His hand brushed lightly on the small of your back and a shiver went through you. “Good night, Jensen. Thank you again for dinner and the conversation.” “Good night, Y/N, and you’re welcome.” Jensen reached out and pulled you into a hug. You took a deep breath and breathed him in. God he smelt amazing, and he was so warm. 

When you two pulled away he lightly ran his thumb over your cheek. You instinctively leaned into his touch. Your breath hitched, “I should go.” You whispered. “Yeah, you probably should.” 

Jensen stepped closer, you bit your lip. His thumb ran over your chin, pulling your lip out of your teeth. Your breathing grew more rapid and your heart beat wildly. His lips were inches from yours, your breath mingling with his. He licked his lips and leaned even closer. You felt his lips ghosting over yours. “Jensen..” “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” You looked at him, your voice caught in your throat. “Y/N, do you want me to stop?” “No,” was all you said. 

Jensen’s lips crashed into yours. Soft but forceful and full of passion and need. Your mind swirling, your heart pounding as his tongue licked your lips asking for entrance. You parted your swollen lips and his tongue took dominance in your mouth. Jensen’s hands went into your hair and pulled you closer to him. Your hands wrapped around his neck. 

The kiss seemed to last for hours, the need for air causing your lungs to scream for oxygen, but in that moment Jensen was the only thing you needed to live. When the need for air became too much, you both pulled away, panting with swollen lips. 

You were blushing and Jensen was smiling. “I’ve been dying to do that for a really long time.” You smiled and bit your lip. His hand brushing against your cheek, “So beautiful”. You took a deep breath, “Good night Jensen.” He placed a soft peck on your lips before you walked out of the house. 

Driving home all you could think of was the kiss. You’d dreamed of kissing him for years, but he’s married. What did the kiss mean to him, to your job? Would he want to do it again, would you? Your mind was racing with thoughts of the kiss and how you could still feel his lips on yours. The sound of your phone pulling you out of your head.

Jensen: So I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I swear I didn’t plan that. 

You: You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I liked it. Honestly, a little too much. 

Jensen: I liked it too. I’d like to do it again if you want.

You: I like that more than you know, but you’re married and my boss. I’m not sure it’s a great idea.

What the hell are you doing!? Jensen Ackles is telling you he wants to kiss you again and you’re shooting him down. Ugh!

Jensen: I understand. Please don’t think this changes anything or affects your job. It doesn’t. You’re amazing with my kids and I wouldn’t want to mess that up.

You: Thank you. I appreciate you saying that. Good night, and I’ll see you Monday.

Jensen: Good night, Y/N. Sweet dreams and see you Monday.

As you crawled into bed that night all you could think about was the kiss and how wonderful his hands felt on you. A small pang of guilt crept into your head when you thought about his wife. You still couldn’t believe you told him you didn’t think kissing him again would be a good idea. His lips were so soft and damn was he a good kisser. 

Could you really still work for him after this, or would the pull to kiss him become too much?

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[glowettee]

hey im changing school from april ig , i want an asap glow up routien pls help🙏🏻😭🤧💗

✧˖° the transfer glow-up guide (by mindy)

@glowettee (mindy)

oh babe, first of all. this is your moment. i know changing schools is terrifying (new people, new environment, new social dynamics), but let’s shift that nervous energy into main character energy. this is your chance to reintroduce yourself.... clean slate, no past labels, no outdated impressions. we’re stepping into this next chapter fully leveled up.

so, let’s i'm going to help you get on an ASAP glow-up routine that’s not just about looking good but feeling good. because confidence is what makes people remember you. the goal? to walk into that school like you’ve always belonged there. effortlessly coollllll, collected, and in control.

✧˖° 9-step glow-up plan before changing schools

➼ 01. mindset glow-up (real glow-ups start inside)

okay, listen. this is a fresh start. and that means we’re mentally rewiring everything that held you back before. if you were shy at your old school? irrelevant now. if people overlooked you? not happening anymore. you get to decide who you are here.

💌 your mindset reset steps: • rewrite your identity. how do you want to be perceived? Cool? Mysterious? Charismatic? Make a list of 3-5 traits & try to embody them. • detach from past insecurities. nobody at your new school knows them. Leave them in the past. • affirmations, but make them real instead of “i am confident,” say “i walk into rooms like i belong there.” • start observing instead of overthinking. confidence is built by being present, not stuck in your head.

➼ 02. the face glow-up

please remember this isn’t about changing your face. it’s about enhancing what’s already there.

✨ the essentials: • consistent skincare – cleanse, hydrate, SPF (seriously, do not skip SPF). • brows & lashes are everything – keep brows groomed but natural, curl your lashes daily, and if you can, try a lash serum or mascara that lifts. • lip care = instant glow-up – a tinted lip balm or gloss makes you look polished with zero effort. • find your signature look – subtle eyeliner? flushed cheeks? glowy skin? Find what suits you and stick with it. (i always put a mole on my nose and by my eyes using eyeliner, makes my eyes look bigger and mid-face shorter <3)

➼ 03. hair glow-up (because hair changes everything)

hair frames your face. it’s literally the first thing people notice.

💌 glow-up your hair with: • a deep conditioning routine – shiny, healthy hair looks expensive. • a haircut that fits your face – curtain bangs, layers, or even just a trim can make a difference. • learning easy but stylish hairstyles – even a sleek ponytail or effortless waves can make you look instantly more put together. • switching up your part – sometimes all you need is a deeper side part or a clean middle part to elevate your whole look.

➼ 04. body glow-up (not for aesthetics, but for energy & confidence)

this is about feeling strong, energized, and capable.

💌 glow-up steps: • morning movement – even 10 min of stretching or pilates wakes up your body and improves posture. • hydration + gut health – drink more water, try adding lemon or herbal teas. • fix your posture – standing taller automatically makes you look more confident. • walk like you own the room – slower, deliberate steps, shoulders relaxed, head high. • signature scent – find a perfume or body mist that makes you feel expensive.

➼ 05. wardrobe glow-up

you don’t need a whole new wardrobe. just a few key upgrades to look effortlessly put together.

💌 wardrobe tips: • know your color palette – neutrals + colors that complement your skin tone = instant elevation. • invest in good basics – a fitted top, the perfect pair of jeans, a nice jacket = staples that always work. • keep it clean & fitted – even a simple outfit looks expensive when it fits well and is ironed. • accessorize smartly – dainty jewelry, a sleek bag, and minimalistic shoes pull everything together.

➼ 06. social glow-up (aka, the effortless magnetism)

you don’t need to be the loudest person in the room to be noticed, you just need to be intriguing.

💌 how to glow up socially: • observe first, speak second – people who take their time before talking seem more intentional and confident. • do a slight smirk – always looking friendly can seem try-hard. Instead, a neutral/slight smirk makes you seem intriguing. • ask people about themselves – genuinely being curious makes you instantly likable. • make eye contact + slow your speech – it gives off effortless confidence.

➼ 07. academic glow-up (because being smart is attractive)

you’re entering a new school. this is the perfect chance to build a new academic reputation. i have severallll posts on excelling academically, howeverrrr here's a few tips you can take from this post..

💌 glow-up your school game: • become “the prepared girl” – always have an extra pen, be the one who remembers deadlines. • sit strategically – not in the very back, but also not awkwardly in the front. Middle-front is where the engaged students sit. • have a clean, organized aesthetic – neat handwriting, color-coded notes, a simple but cute planner. • ask one good question per class – it makes you seem engaged without looking like a try-hard.

➼ 08. social media glow-up (first impressions happen online too)

chances are, people will look up your socials or ask for it. make sure they give off the energy you actually want.

💌 how to glow up your socials: • clean up your posts – archive anything that doesn’t reflect your new energy. • keep it slightly mysterious – don’t overshare; post curated moments. • have a signature aesthetic – neutral, coquette, minimal, whatever feels most you. • quality > quantity – better to have 5 great posts than 50 random ones.

➼ 09. confidence glow-up (this is what makes people remember you)

at the end of the day, glow-ups aren’t about looks, it’s about energy.

💌 confidence tips: • act like you’ve always belonged. Walk into school like it’s just another normal day for you. • stop overexplaining. You don’t owe people explanations for your choices or personality. • compliment others. Being effortlessly kind makes you even more magnetic. • romanticize your presence. Imagine you’re the main character in a coming-of-age movie.

✧˖° two extra tips from me, mindy---because you deserve the real secrets

listen, babe, there are two things that nobody tells you when you’re changing schools, and i need you to know them because they will make your life ten times easier. these are the kind of tips that would’ve saved me so much overthinking and stress, so take notes.

➼ 01. don’t make best friends too fast - be mysterious first

i know, i know, when you’re the new girl, it’s tempting to cling to the first people who are nice to you. but slow down. observe. people will show you who they really are within the first few weeks. if you commit too quickly, you might end up in the wrong circle, and trust me, getting out of a friend group is harder than choosing the right one from the start.

💌 here’s how to do it right: • be friendly but slightly reserved – let people come to you. it makes you intriguing. • don’t overshare too soon – mystery is power. • study the social dynamics – who’s genuinely kind? who’s fake nice? who actually aligns with your vibe? • make small connections first – talk to different groups before settling into one.

when you enter with quiet confidence, you naturally attract better people. trust me, this will save you so much unnecessary drama.

➼ 02. build a “new girl” reputation on purpose

when you’re new, you have leverage. people are curious about you. use that to your advantage.

💌 how to subtly control your first impression: • pick a signature thing. maybe it’s your perfume, the way you style your hair, or your effortlessly cool energy. give people something to associate you with. • don’t try too hard to fit in. the moment you stop seeking approval, you get it naturally. • be unpredictable. say something funny when people least expect it, or have a surprising skill. unexpectedness makes people remember you. • own your space. walk into every room like it’s yours. not in a cocky way, just in a “i belong here” way.

when you enter a new school with intention, you don’t just fit in. you stand out. 🤍

✧˖° final thoughts

pleaseee know this isn’t about “becoming” someone else. it’s about stepping into the most polished, self-assured version of yourself. you don’t need to be the loudest, the prettiest, or the most popular, you just need to be comfortable in your own energy. that’s what people are drawn to.

walk into that new school like you’ve already been there for years. you got this. 🤍 love youuu <3333

xoxo mindy

[shellbilee]

Hello fellow Aussie! 🇦🇺❤️

It’s my birthday today and I was wondering if I could put in a request for a Glen Powell fic?

Maybe they’ve been doing long distance for a while (they met when she was in the US from Australia for a holiday) and Glen decides to surprise her with him turning up at her door for her birthday or something?

If you can’t..it’s all good 😊

Have a good night! 😁

I am a week late, but happy birthday Queen! I hope you had the greatest day and got absolutely spoilt rotten.

Apologies to all my Hey There Darlin' readers, the next chapter update was delayed because I wanted to put this together for my favourite fellow Aussie. (Next chapter will be up ASAP).

So here's my little gift to you @queenslandlover-93, which would never be enough to thank you for all of your constant support on my work. Much love to you sweets!🩵

---

One Afternoon in Austin

A Glen Powell RPF One Shot Pairing: Glen Powell x Reader Words: 5.5K

You glance down at your phone for the hundredth time, inhaling a long breath when you see no new notifications on the screen.

You sigh, lips stretching into a somber smile at the sight of your two smiling faces pictured on your home screen.

God you missed him.

It had been 18 whole hours since you'd spoken to Glen - not since he'd face timed you at 12.01am, determined to be the first to wish you a happy birthday. You'd answered within three rings, feeling your whole body warm when his gorgeous face appeared on the screen, teeth flashing in the effortlessly handsome, all-American smile that you loved so much. 

Glen.

Even ten months later, you still hadn't quite gotten used to the fact that you were dating Glen Powell, and if you were being honest, you weren’t sure you ever would.  If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be in a serious relationship with one of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors, you'd have snorted and laughed out loud. 

You'd met Glen when you were solo traveling through the USA last June. You'd been about halfway through your twelve week trip, having started high on the west coast and working your way down South and across, making it to Texas. The plan had been to spend a few days there, first in Austin, then Houston and a couple of other places, before moving onto Louisiana to New Orleans.

Two days into your Austin visit - staying in a modern little air BnB not far from the city, you'd been coming back from a run through the suburbs when you'd come across a little tan and white dog standing alone on the sidewalk. You remembered stopping and looking around, waiting to see if anyone would appear, hoping that someone was walking their dog off lead and hadn't caught up yet. No one appeared to be out searching for it, the surrounding houses seemingly quiet.

You'd knelt down and whistled for the dog, smiling when it wandered over to you immediately, tail wagging and panting happily. You'd cooed at the tiny animal, patting its fluffy head, sitting down on the grass beside it so you could get a better view of its collar.

The dog's name had turned out to be Brisket, a fact you'd found both adorable and amusing, flipping over the metallic name tag to find a phone number engraved on the other side. Deciding that Brisket must have wandered out of his yard and was now lost, you'd picked up the tiny dog and walked the rest of the distance home to your air BnB. Letting Brisket out into your yard, you’d gotten him some water and set about calling the number from his name tag, sitting down on the back porch next to him as you’d listened to the phone ring. 

The phone had ended up ringing through to voicemail, and you’d soon discovered that Brisket’s owner was a man named Glen with a deep Texan accent. You still remembered smiling at the sound of his voice, some part of you internally swooning as you listened to him tell you to leave a message after the tone.

You’d left a quick message, telling him your name and how you’d found Brisket, and that you’d brought him home with you to get him out of the afternoon heat. You’d sent a quick text as well, detailing the same, in case he was otherwise indisposed and unable to take a call. 

Fifteen minutes later you’d been relaxing on the backyard grass with a trashy romance novel, Brisket snoozing peacefully by your side, when your phone had started ringing. Immediately recognising the number as Glen, you’d answered, not at all surprised to hear a panicked voice greeting you instead of the calm, easy going one that had spoken to you in a voicemail.

You’d reassured him that Brisket was fine, healthy and laying happily by your side, explaining that you didn’t have a car, but that you could get an uber to wherever he needed. Glen had offered to come to you but you’d politely declined, not entirely comfortable with giving your address to a stranger when you were traveling solo, instead asking where he was and insisting that you’d go to him. You’d soon discovered on your maps that he was only a ten minute drive from your air BnB, promising that you’d be there soon and that he had no reason to worry about Brisket as he’d thanked you profusely. 

Exactly twenty-three minutes later your Uber had arrived at what you could only describe as a modern Texas mansion, and you remembered the way your jaw had instantly dropped as your eyes had run over the sheer expanse of the property. Telling the Uber driver to stay put, you’d lifted Brisket into your arms and made your way up the palatial driveway, feeling the beginnings of sweat at the back of your neck from the hot Summer afternoon as you’d knocked on the enormous wooden door. 

The Texan royalty, as it turns out, was Glen Powell.

You remembered eyeing off the huge black Ram in the driveway, an expensive black SUV and a smaller white BMW next to it, deciding that you must have stumbled onto some kind of Texan royalty judging by the house and cars in front of you. You’d chuckled to yourself at the thought just as you’d heard the sound of the front door opening, turning around to find a sight that you’d not at all been prepared for.

You’d tried your best not to stumble over your words, certain you looked like a gaping goldfish as you'd introduced yourself and passed a happily wrigging Brisket over to him, thankful for your sunglasses as you’d looked back at him. You remembered thinking that he somehow looked even more handsome in person than he did on screen - a fact that you didn’t think was at all possible, assuring him that it was no problem when he’d thanked you again for finding Brisket. It had taken everything you had not to audibly moan at the sight of him, hoping that your blatant staring wasn’t totally obvious as you took in his stubbled beard and effortlessly charming smile, golden tanned skin and thick, muscled arms.

God.

What you hadn’t known, and would eventually discover weeks later, was that Glen was just as shocked to find you when he had opened his front door - a gorgeous young woman standing alone with a smile that had quite literally stopped him in his tracks and left him momentarily lost for words.

He’d thanked you again and you’d promised him that it was really no issue at all, offering a small wave as you’d turned to make your way back to your waiting Uber. Just when you'd been thinking that meeting Glen Powell had to be the highlight of your trip, you'd heard Glen call out your name and tell you to wait. You remembered turning around to face him then, only to find him taking a step towards you with Brisket still in his arms.

He’d proceeded to ask if you'd wanted to come in for a drink, adding that he had to somehow thank you for finding Brisket. You'd declined of course, reasoning that you had to get back to your Uber - and even now you could still remember the distinct feeling of every single fiber of your body screaming at you to reconsider as Glen continued to insist you stay.

“Please come in?”

He’d asked again, the look on his face making it near impossible to say no, emphasizing that the least he could do was offer you a drink and temporary reprieve from the afternoon heat. You remembered standing there for a moment, seemingly frozen in place, weighing up your potential options.

Get back in the Uber and go back to your air BnB.

Or;

Take up the offer for a drink with one of the most attractive men you’d ever met. 

Thinking back to that moment now, you wondered how you ever possibly considered otherwise.

Giving in to Glen, you'd jogged back to the Uber and thanked him for waiting, telling him he could go before making your way back to Glen at the front door. It was at that moment that you’d felt Glen’s eyes on you - running subtly over your figure, suddenly becoming self conscious that you were still sporting the shorts and tank activewear combo you’d worn on your run earlier. 

On the transcript of your life, this was certainly not the outfit you’d envisioned wearing if you ever came across a gorgeous Hollywood celebrity.

Anyway.

He’d invited you in and you’d accepted gratefully, instantly thankful for the cool of the air conditioner as you followed him down the enormous hallway. He’d since put Brisket down, the tiny dog now happily trotting alongside his owner, the sight making you long for Flynn, your three year old Australian Shepherd dog back home.  

The sound of voices at the end of the hallway made you stop in your tracks, Glen turning around and looking back at you concerned. You’d stammered wide eyed, telling him you didn’t want to interrupt if he had people over, instantly feeling like an intruder despite Glen’s genuine insistence that you weren’t. He’d stepped towards you then - close enough that you remembered the exact moment the scent of his sweet cologne hit you, his sage green eyes looking back at you earnestly and promising that you weren’t interrupting, that it was just his family that was over for a barbecue.

That new information had sent an instant tidal wave of nervousness crashing down your spine, your heartbeat immediately heavy in your ears. Now not only were you being invited into Glen Powell’s home, you were also seconds away from spontaneously meeting his family. 

Fuck.

You remembered laughing then - a short, giddy bubble of laughter, Glen’s face splitting into a smile as you did so. Your laugh had been one of incredulousness, your brain unable to fathom the situation that you were currently in.

Of all the things you’d imagined you’d do whilst on your solo travels, this was most certainly not one of them.

Glen had gestured with his hand for you to follow him and somehow your frozen feet were able to oblige, the hallway opening up into an expansive open kitchen and living area, complete with enormous glass french doors that opened onto a luxury deck and pool outside. 

You remembered not knowing where to look first - at the enormous turquoise pool, or the insanely stunning view of rolling hills and a lake behind it, the luxury styled interior of the house or the adorable little blonde girl in her swimmers that was staring curiously at you from the back doorway.

Almost immediately she’d spoken, pointing and asking her uncle Glen very loudly who you were, her voice making the rest of the people outside stop and look inside. You remembered your face flaming then, embarrassment flushing your skin as you'd fought the urge to sprint back towards the front door.

You didn’t have a fear of public speaking but in that moment it felt like you had spontaneously developed one.

Glen had informed his niece - who you’d soon discovered was named Gwen, of your name and explained that you were the girl that had found Brisket and brought him home, an older lady suddenly appearing from somewhere inside the house and clapping her hands happily when she’d spied Brisket at Glen’s feet.

As it turned out, it was Lauren’s and Will’s house - Glen’s sister and brother in law, and Witt, their son and twin brother of Gwen, had accidentally opened the back gate and Brisket had wandered out, unbeknownst to everyone at the barbecue. Glen, who had just finished grilling had whistled for Brisket to offer him a cut off of steak, only to find that Brisket had gone missing and that the back gate was open. Just as everyone had scrambled to find keys to go out and look for him, Glen had picked up his phone and seen the text from you, prompting everyone to relax knowing that Brisket was safe.

The lady had turned out to be Glen’s mother Cindy, Glen immediately introducing the two of you as she offered her own thanks for finding Brisket before pulling you in for a hug.The gesture had taken you by surprise but offered a surprising amount of comfort, the nervousness that had your knees threatening to give way slowly easing.

Fifteen minutes later, you’d been introduced to the entire Powell family and were seated on an outdoor lounge by the pool next to Glen’s younger sister Leslie, wine in hand and nominated an additional judge of the pool diving contest between Gwen, Witt and their dad Will. You’d clapped and laughed your way through it, thankful for your sunglasses for the second time in less than twenty minutes when Glen had taken his shirt off and joined as a fourth participant in the contest. 

God.

You remembered biting the inside of your cheek so hard you’d drawn blood, using every ounce of strength you had to look away when Glen had emerged from the pool, water droplets sliding down his golden, muscled form. 

Later you'd found yourself sitting and talking with Glen’s other sister Lauren and his dad Glen Senior, telling them all about your trip in the US so far and how you’d come to find yourself in Texas. They in turn had asked you about yourself and you’d shared about your home back in Australia, your job, Flynn and your family, Glen coming to join at some point later sitting down on the lounge beside you with a drink refill.

You’d talked and laughed with the Powell’s for the rest of the afternoon, all of your nerves from earlier having seemingly disappeared. It was like you’d known them all for months rather than only an hour, feeling right at home with the bubbly, extraverted, Texan family. They’d asked you about your plans for the remainder of the trip, offering their own tips and recommendations for the rest of your time in Texas which you’d accepted gratefully, making mental notes to adjust your itinerary.

Eventually the afternoon had faded into early evening, Glen Senior and Cindy saying their goodbyes and wishing you all the best for the rest of your trip, Leslie following suit soon after and making you promise that you’d say goodbye before you left Texas. 

You’d grabbed your bag announcing that you should probably get home too, Glen interrupting and insisting that he’d take you on his way back home. You knew better than to decline his offer, concluding that based on the day you’d had there was no reasoning with him. You’d said your goodbyes to Lauren and Will, thanking them for their hospitality for the afternoon, comforting Gwen with a hug when she’d gotten teary at you leaving - the two of you having bonded earlier when you’d told her that her diving was as good as a dolphin's and she’d told you that they were her favourite animal. 

Glen had driven you home then, the two of you settling into a comfortable silence, Brisket snoozing peacefully on your lap in the passenger seat. Pulling up to your air BnB, Glen had asked what your plans were for tomorrow and you’d informed him that you hadn’t quite decided yet - but you were tossing up between going out to see Lake Travis, or heading out into the hills to visit the country sights. 

Flashing you a smile that had made you momentarily lose your train of thought, Glen had offered you an alternative option - let him take you out for the day to show you a side of Austin from a local’s point of view. You remembered staring back at him then, your brain trying to ascertain whether or not you were dreaming that Glen Powell had just asked you to spend the day with him, looking at his perfectly handsome face and uttering an animated yes to his proposal.

He'd kissed you on the cheek and wished you a goodnight, telling you that he’d pick you up at ten AM before thanking you again for finding Brisket. You’d laughed and assured him for the tenth time that day that it was really no problem, thanking him for having you today and saying your own goodbye. He’d waited until you’d unlocked the door of your air BnB and you’d waved as you’d walked inside, your cheeks hurting from smiling as you’d closed the door behind you and leaned back against the wood.

Unbeknownst to you, the plans for the rest of your solo USA trip were about to be turned completely upside down. 

The next day with Glen turned out to be everything you’d imagined and more, the two of you talking, flirting and laughing from the moment he’d picked you up. He’d started the day by driving the two of you out to Lake Travis where you’d spent the morning stand up paddleboarding, Glen showing you his favourite spots on the lake and telling you about his family’s lakeside ranch a few hours out of Austin. Next was lunch from what Glen had promised was ‘the best Texan barbecue house’ in all of Texas, ordering his favourite steak sandwiches which quickly became the best meal you’d eaten on your trip so far.

After lunch he’d taken you on a hike through one of Austin’s national parks, the end of which had brought you to one of the most incredible sights you’d ever seen - a waterfall that spilled over a huge bowl-shaped canyon into a large swimming hole below. Glen had convinced you to walk the perimeter through the cave-like canyon until you were standing beneath the falling water, looking up at the natural sight in awe as Glen had snapped several photos of you and then the two of you together.

Looking out at the sunset, sitting beside Glen with his arm around your shoulders, you remembered thinking that this day - a day that would forever go down as one of the best days of your life, couldn’t possibly have gotten any better. 

After your hike he’d taken you over to wine country, where he’d introduced you to his good friends Daniel and Amy - owners of one of the most well-known vineyards and breweries in Fredericksburg. They’d given you a private tour of their venue before you’d sat down for drinks, looking out at the picturesque green vineyard and seemingly endless rolling hills, a stunning Texas sunset bathing everything in a gorgeous, orange glow.

And then, just like that, it had.

Glen had driven you back to your air BnB and you’d promptly invited him for a drink, not quite ready to end your day with him. He’d happily accepted your proposal, parking his truck and following you in, sitting down on the living room couch as you’d gotten you both a beer. 

What followed was an evening of more stories and laughs, more flirting and mischievous teasing, the tension only growing between you as the night went on. Eventually though, as if neither of you could no longer fight it, Glen had leaned in and kissed you, his lips moving against yours with a soft, passionate want.

That passion quickly became tangible, like a craving neither of you could satisfy, lips and hands growing desperate until you’d both lost several items of clothing and Glen was asking where the bedroom was. 

You remembered thinking in that moment - when Glen was carrying you to the bed, his lips pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to the hollow of your throat, that there would be no coming back from this. You’d sleep with Glen Powell, and tomorrow this would become nothing more than a fond memory for the both of you. 

After all, he was a Hollywood celebrity and you weren’t. 

He lived in Texas and you lived in Australia.

It would never work.

And so you’d decided, as Glen had laid you down on the bed and kissed his way down your body, that you’d forget all about tomorrow and just enjoy tonight.

Every single, sweaty second of it.

And all three delicious rounds of it.

When morning had arrived you’d fully expected to wake up to an empty bed, pleasantly surprised to instead find yourself wrapped in Glen's arms, his chest pressed firmly against your back. He'd felt you stirring, pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck, his actions teasing soft moans from you that quickly turned into a tangle of sheets and naked limbs all over again.

What followed was two more days with Glen, the two of you spending almost all of your time together - him showing you all of his favourite things about his hometown, and even catching up with his sister Leslie again when she'd joined you both at a live music night that had ended with the two Powell's introducing you to line dancing. There'd been endless stories and laughs and adorable cuddles with Brisket, constant flirting and stolen kisses, and several more rounds of what had quickly become the best sex you'd ever had.

You'd proceeded to become only more and more infatuated with Glen, even despite the constant nagging feeling in the back of your mind telling you that this would soon all have to come to its inevitable end. You’d known that conversation was coming, like a looming tornado that threatening to destroy your happy bubble with Glen at any moment, and on your last night in Austin as you’d sat on Glen’s couch with Brisket on your lap and wine in hand, it finally happened. 

You’d told him that it was okay, that you had no expectations of him and that you’d known all along that this was only ever going to be a vacation fling, assuring him that you’d loved every single second of your time and adventures together with him. Glen had been silent for a long moment then, looking back at you as he’d sat beside you on the couch with his gorgeous green eyes boring into your own, eventually taking your hand in his and telling you just how wrong you were.

He’d told you that he’d never before met a girl like you.

He'd told you that he’d never felt the way he had about someone he’d known for only three days.

He'd told you that he’d loved every single moment that you’d spent together and that he knew if he didn't tell you how he felt, he'd be forever wondering.

You swore in that moment that you’d forgotten how to breathe, your heart in your throat as you'd realized the implications of what Glen was saying to you.

You remembered wondering if you were really going to do this, if you could actually be in a relationship with Glen - in a relationship that was not only long distance, but also with a famous celebrity. You knew it would turn your world upside down and back to front a million times over, but the longer you’d looked back at Glen, getting lost in the gaze that was seemingly looking right through you, you’d realized that above all else, you were willing to try.

You’d fallen into his arms then, falling into one another over and over again, first on the couch, and then the shower, and then finally in his bed, eventually drifting off to sleep wrapped around one another as the evening ended and morning brought with it the inevitable tomorrow.

The rest of your trip had seemingly flown by, seeing the sights and experiencing the best of New Orleans, Jackson, Memphis and Nashville, making your way north to Boston and later New York where your twelve week trip would come to an end. Though those six weeks couldn’t compare to the time you’d spent with Glen in Austin and you’d missed him terribly, you’d spoken to him almost constantly throughout the rest of your travels - sending photos and videos, texting and face timing, following his advice and recommendations of the best places to go and see. 

What you hadn’t known and would only find out upon checking into your hotel room when you’d arrived in New York, was that Glen had organized to fly up to surprise you. You remembered feeling like you’d won the lottery when the hotel concierge had advised that you’d received a complimentary room upgrade to a suite, and just as you’d thought that your trip couldn’t possibly have wrapped up any better, you’d opened the suite door to find Glen waiting for you.

When you’d finally gotten over the shock of seeing him again, after you’d jumped into his embrace and kissed him with all of the emotions that you’d held in since Austin, Glen had taken you out for a romantic night on the town - and continued to do the same for every night that followed for the rest of your trip.

Eventually your solo travels had come to an end, Glen kissing you tenderly and promising that you’d see each other again soon, holding you tight in his arms as you’d sat outside JFK airport on the day of your flight home. You remembered trying to take in everything about your last few minutes with Glen then - the smell of his cologne, the feel of his lips on your hair, the warmth of his chest as he held you pressed against him, desperate to prolong your last moments together not knowing when you’d next get the chance.

A tender goodbye that you swore you wouldn’t ruin with tears, one final kiss that you’d forever commit to memory and a promise that together you could make this work, you’d waved to Glen and made your way through the departure gates, boarding your flight home to Australia.

The months that followed had given you a new found respect for people in long distance relationships, missing Glen more than you thought possible - even with your constant communication. Some small part of you had expected your relationship to fizzle out a week after you’d arrived home - that your time with Glen would be nothing more than a memory, a story you told people about when they’d ask about your overseas travels, but just as you’d promised on your last day together, you and Glen had made it work.

He’d come to visit you three months after your trip, staying with you for two whole weeks in October. You'd shown him around your city in the same way he’d done with Austin, introducing him to your friends and eventually your family after your sister had all but begged to meet him, your dog Flynn loving Glen just as much as Brisket had you.

Those two weeks had been incredible, and as close to domestic bliss as you'd ever gotten, loving waking up to Glen each morning and falling asleep wrapped in his arms each night. Then there was the sex - both of you obviously desperate to make up for the three months apart, spending the first two days of his visit practically locked inside and christening every surface of your house.

All too soon it was time to say goodbye again, but not before you'd made plans to see each other for Christmas. You'd flown back to the states for the holidays two months later, the Powell family welcoming you back with open arms, Brisket especially happy to see you as he'd happily licked at your face. You’d gotten to experience your first ever Winter Christmas that year holing up at the Powell's family ranch, eating, drinking, dancing and laughing all the way through to New Years Eve, feeling nothing but love as you celebrated with Glen's sisters, parents and the twins.

The rest of that trip had gone by all too quickly, and soon you were saying your teary goodbyes all over again before you’d headed back home to Australia. This time you hadn't been able to plan your next visit with Glen - his latest film projects beginning and finally introducing you to life as a famous actor's girlfriend. You'd found yourself feeling consistently grateful for your job, friends and family then, their presence keeping your mind busy and away from thoughts of Glen’s chaotic schedule and the fact that you had no idea when you'd next get to see him.

It was at the Powell’s annual New Year's Eve party that Glen had told you he loved you, just as the clock had struck midnight and everyone had erupted into cheers of happiness. You remembered that moment vividly, your heart still racing whenever you thought about it, the two of you standing on the edge of the lake as Glen had wrapped you in his arms and kissed you, pulling away just enough so that he could whisper those three perfect words. 

And so, that had brought you all the way to June - nearly five months since you'd last seen him, as Glen had worked insane hours on a four month long shoot for his newest movie. Alongside the Australian Winter, made worse by the fact that you missed your boyfriend more than you'd previously thought possible, June had also brought with it something else seemingly upsetting - your birthday, also known as your thirty second lap around the sun.

Still, your friends had pulled out all the stops to celebrate your day - your three closest girlfriends taking you out on a spa date complete with a full body massage, facial and pedicure, followed by a tasting and lunch at the most stunning of vineyards which had continued well into the early evening. Your boozy, extended lunch had later turned into dinner and cocktails at a rooftop bar in the city, which soon turned into singing and dancing at a nearby karaoke bar despite your vehement protesting.

That's how you'd come to find yourself sitting in the booth with one of your friends, looking down at your notification-less phone as the other two girls performed an intoxicated rendition of It’s Raining Men on stage.

Though the girls had spoiled and pampered you on your day, it hadn't quite been enough to completely take your thoughts off of Glen and that fact that you hadn't heard from him all day. You knew he was busy with his shoot - having since learned that sometimes they could go for several hours at a time, knowing that there were many occasions where he just wasn’t able to have his phone on him in the middle of all the chaos. Still, despite not hearing from him since the early hours of the morning, he'd still somehow managed to spoil you on your birthday - organizing your favourite coffee and breakfast to be delivered to your door this morning, alongside the biggest bunch of stunning red roses that you'd ever seen. 

When you'd arrived at the winery for lunch later there'd been a second bunch of flowers, this one somehow bigger than the last, an exotic mix of eclectic tiger lillies and striking orchids, the colours bold, bright and beautiful. Alongside them had been a note, short and simple in the way that was classically Glen, telling you that he loved you with his whole heart and that he hoped you were having the best day with your friends for your birthday.

You and the girls had called it a night just before midnight, your own tipsy performance of Proud Mary signaling the end of your birthday. You kissed and thanked your girlfriends, incredibly grateful for the three of them in your life, waving goodbye to them in the taxi and making your way inside.

In any other circumstance, Flynn's lack of barking at your arrival would have alerted you to the idea that something was up, but in your several-drinks-too-many state you didn't quite pick up on that. So when you opened the front door to your house and found Glen standing in your kitchen looking back at you with the biggest smile on his face, all you could do was stare back at him momentarily - your brain a whirring mix of alcohol, surprise, overwhelm and love.

Eventually you separated enough that you could ask him what he was doing here and why he hadn't told you, Glen smiling and explaining between kisses that he was never going to not see you for your birthday. As it turned out he had the flight organized weeks ago, and had enlisted your friend's help to keep you busy while he made the long haul flight over, having planned all along to surprise you at the end of the night.

You ran at him then, bounding into his waiting arms and holding onto him with everything you had, burying your face in his neck as he whispered happy birthday baby in your hair. Depositing you on the kitchen bench he'd cupped your face and captured your lips in a tender kiss, both of you pouring all of the thoughts and emotions from your months apart into your intimate embrace.

Just as you launched into your next barrage of questions - about his latest project, about the film shoot, about his family and about Brisket, Glen had tilted your chin and silenced you with a slow, heavy kiss, the action leaving you breathless and momentarily lost for words.

“All of that can wait” Glen breathed, lips hovering over your own as his hand moved into your hair, “We’ll have time for questions later darlin’”.

“Later?” you asked, voice barely louder than a whisper, letting out a shaky breath when his free hand cupped the back of your bare thigh and pulled your body flush against his.

“Later” Glen affirmed, his silky voice low and his Texan accent thick, his intentions instantly clear when he rolled his hips into yours with a breathy, almost desperate groan, “First I’m gonna take you to bed and give my girl a proper happy birthday”.

---

TAG LIST FOR GLEN POWELL FICS:

@angclvings @auntiegigi @friedchips94 @memories-in-bw @maeleelee @jessicab1991 @bellaireland1981 @queenslandlover-93 @itsjustkhaos @kneelforloki @djs8891 @lovemesomevesey @entertainmentgirl80 @buckysteveloki-me @stankface @meldizzzle

[angels-fantasy]

Top Secret Fiction Ch. 6

The Confrontation

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Description: After meeting the one and only pro hero Dynamight on a dating app, you two begin to see each other. Because of the dangers that come with his hero work, you both promise to be completely honest with each other from the beginning; though you can't help but keep one big secret from him.

You write fan fiction, mostly about him.

Chapter Details: deku makes an appearance here heheh. bakugou lowkey might like fanfics? but only if they're about him. scary confrontation 😟 reader is a bit sad and confused :(

Word Count: 1.4k

previous chapter

As soon as Bakugou got home, he opened his computer and looked up 'Bakugou x Reader'. What came up was a ton of links to different websites, one of the top ones being HeroFiction.Com.

Clicking on it, he scrolled through the sight and found many other original stories about different pro heroes.

While doing this, he learned that this was called fan fiction, which he'd heard about before, but he never paid attention to it because he didn't care.

Keeping the website open, he leaned back and wondered, were you writing fan fiction about him? You must've been, based on your notes. Did you write for other pro heroes, or just him?

A small part of him hoped you only wrote for him.

He sighed and rubbed his hands down his face, trying to think about what the hell he was going to do about this. Clearly, this was something you didn't want to tell him, meaning you kept it a secret.

And he hates secrets, but for some reason, this didn't feel too bad. He was almost... flattered, in a way. He was also curious and he just wanted to know more. But how would he even bring this up to you?

Deciding he'd need help with understanding this website, he called someone he trusted.

"Hey Deku. You know what fan fiction is, right?"

Blushing, Izuku replied with "Why are you asking me that Kacchan?!"

"Because I know you used to write that shit back in high school!" He explained, "Just tell me what you know about this site called 'HeroFiction.com.'"

A lightbulb went off in Izuku's head, "Oh yeah I recognize that name! It's basically a website for pro hero fanfiction. I've seen a few good ones actually-"

"Yeah okay, thanks." Katsuki said, cutting off his friend.

It was time for him to do more of his own research, specifically on this website.

...

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself in your bed wondering how you got there.

Did I fall asleep? You wondered.

You cringed at the thought of Bakugou seeing you asleep and hoped you didn't do anything embarrassing.

Rubbing your eyes, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and saw a text from Bakugou letting you know he had left after putting you in your bed.

You smiled at his thoughtfulness and texted him back a thank you, and an apology for falling asleep while he was over.

After tossing your phone down onto the bed next to you, you stretched and blinked away any leftover sleep.

As you were stretching your legs you felt your foot hit something softly. Wondering what it was, you sat up and looked at the foot of your bed, eyes widening when you realized it was your notebook.

But this wasn't just any notebook- this one had all of your notes for fics you were planning on writing.

You thought about how Bakugou brought you into your bedroom, and your heart sank to your stomach when you realized he probably saw your notebook.

"Noooo!" You cried and placed your hands over your eyes. "Kill me now..."

You prayed to any higher power out there that he didn't read anything.

...

Your prayers clearly didn't reach anyone because a few hours after waking up, you got a text from Bakugou that said, "Can we talk? ASAP."

Biting your nail nervously, you texted back "Sure" and asked when and where he'd want to meet up.

Quickly texting back, he told you he'd meet you at a cafe near your neighborhood in a few hours.

A little while later as you got ready to meet up with him you felt like you were going to cough up your stomach and die from your nerves.

You didn't want to accept it, but deep down you knew he figured out your secret. It was already terrifying trying to keep what you did in your free time a secret, but now that the person you wrote about knew, was even more terrifying!

It seemed as though your frantic thoughts made time go by even faster than usual, and it was now time for you to leave so you could make it to the cafe on time.

Taking a deep breath and patting your face, you stepped out of your apartment and began to head to the cafe.

...

As Bakugou sat at the cafe in the outdoor dining area, he tapped his foot anxiously as he awaited your arrival.

After his phone call with Deku and doing his own research (which just consisted of reading other fan fictions he came across), he came to the conclusion that he would accept this hobby of yours, if you were honest about it when he confronted you.

Since he had browsed the website a bit, he came across some stories that were actually decent (but also others that were very, very questionable and he really hoped you didn't write anything like that. ESPECIALLY not a story with him and that damn Deku).

He'd never admit it, but it boosted his ego a bit to know that you wrote about him, and he definitely wanted to read some of your stuff. He wanted to know if it was as good as some of the other ones he has read.

Suddenly, he saw your figure walking towards him and he was snapped out of his thoughts. He sat up straighter and placed his elbows against the table, leaning forward.

You sat down across from him silently with a shy look on your face. "So..." You said softly, "You wanted to talk?"

He cleared his throat, "Yeah. I'll just get to the point..." He said, before hesitating to say, "That night I was at your place, I saw your notebook-"

You grimaced, knowing exactly what he was talking about, and placed your hands over your face in embarrassment. "I'm sorry." You said.

Letting out a deep breath, you uncovered your face and continued to speak while looking down at your lap. "I knew this would come up eventually, I just didn't think it'd be so soon..."

Bakugou scoffed, "So when were you gonna tell me? Never?"

You frowned at his tone, "No! It's just not an easy topic to talk about Bakugou. It's embarrassing and I wasn't just going to say 'Hey Bakugou, did you know I've been writing fan fiction about you for three years?'"

He blinked. He could understand where you were coming from. In fact, he'd probably be more weirded out if you had told him that easily. But, even though you were honest now, it still doesn't shake his uneasiness about you keeping a secret from him.

Sure, it wasn't a huge, life threatening secret, but it was still something you kept from him. He liked honesty, especially in a relationship and it's something he valued heavily. A part of him felt like he should've known about this sooner, since it was about him for gods sake!

He sighed. "Before you go assuming things, I'm not mad at ya, okay?" He said, "I just... I think I need time to think about this alright? A few days at most."

You furrowed your eyebrows subconsciously, making your eyes look big and puppy like. Well damn, how was he supposed to stay away from you when you gave him that look?

"Okay." You spoke sadly, "I understand. I shouldn't have kept that from you, so again, I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "'S fine."

You rubbed your sweaty palms on your legs and stood up. "I'll give you time now, alright? Just, call or text me whenever you're ready." You said and gave him a small wave before walking back in the direction you came from.

As you made your way back, you thought about your talk with Bakugou.

If you wanted to keep seeing him, maybe you would have to stop writing. You were starting to really like Bakugou, and you didn't want a silly hobby to get in the way of a potentially serious relationship with him.

You felt your eyes tear up. It was hard to think about giving up writing. You had made friends through your writing, your own little community online. It was great! But realistically, could you keep this up forever?

That same night, you posted on your page.

Hi everyone. I've decided to take a break from writing for a while. I'm not sure how long it will be, but I will still leave everything here for you to read.

Thank you, xo.

next chapter

authors note

HIII omg im so sorry i haven't updated this fic in a while 🥹 this chapter was actually really fun to write and omg writing readers thoughts at the end lowkey made me sad!! how do you feel about it? pls lmk!!

love ya!

taglist (closed for this fic): @doumadono @54fangirl @andysdrafts @dagger-dragger @lovra974 @l4rsun1vrrse @emmab3mma @littlkittenfan @tatiquichi @cloudxluv @seonne @shonen-brainrot @the2ndl @gold24fish @cxp1d @rv19 @gina329

(those in pink couldn't be tagged)

[tennessoui]

I know fic rec lists take a lot of energy and time, but I really need something obikin to read and I trust your taste in fic after having read literally everything you've written 🧡 Can you share a few obikin fics you've recently read? I'm not asking for a huge list or anything, just a few for a lunchtime work read would hit the spot!

hello, yes I can do this! honestly, it’s a new years resolution of mine to write a few fic lists because I haven’t had a lot of time to read fic these past few months, but I miss it (and I honestly think not reading fic has been a huge contributing factor to my writer’s block) and I want to make fic recs a thing again for me

(a sort of related fic resolution of mine this year is to comment more on fics i read, which is why i have about 53 tabs open on my phone and yet am still bad at leaving comments - these things happen in baby steps)

this won’t be long list because I have an early start tomorrow and not a lot of new fics to rec (like I said, I have not been reading enough lately), but here are the most recent obikin fics in my ao3 History tab

(beneath the cut: 7 fics i've read, 3 fics on my To Read ASAP list, 3 WIPs i'm subscribed and SAT for along with the ever relevant and only slightly preachy reminder to read your local authors' wips if you want more complete fics)

let's turn up the heat until we fry by @grapenehifics (explicit, modern au)- what an amazing fic this was! i read it sometime in january and my god it made me crave summer almost as much as it made me crave tattooed anakin, a plot device people are not making enough use out of for how great (and hot) tattooed anakin is. especially when he's a dad. especially when he's still a dork. a 4.5 out of 10 on the buffoon scale (complimentary) have i mentioned obi-wan's slutty earring??

lost canines by @bunnywan (explicit, canon) - no one does men crying like bunnywan does men crying. also spit. and teeth. but also such a fascinating character study into what flavor of emotinal wreck both of them would be if the jedi won the war and then anakin left the order to be with his wife. amazing on all levels for this. fictional smut between two fictional men never feels as real and possible as it does when this writer is writing it

running through my head by @darthwillies (mature, canon, sort of crack premise based on an anime but incredibly poignantly heavy fic) - man, i had to search deep into my history for this fic because i was obsessed with finding and reading the final scene of chapter 2 again (specifically - no context for spoilers - obi-wan saying "that is the cruellest thing anyone has ever said to me") because oh man that bit of bare and painful honesty and all the bare and painful honesty following? scratches my brain the best way. this fic was just so incredible for many different reasons. i loved the world building and the ensemble in the background - it felt very much like something that could happen if every character made slightly different choices. both anakin and obi-wan's characterizations read spot on and painfully beautiful. no one is to blame for everything, but this is where we've landed and everyone's healing and communicating (which is my favorite sort of whump/comfort fic) this fic is heavy but the author does a very good job of inserting tags into the author's notes of each chapter so read those. but read the fic as well.

i will tell the night by @riduurburton (explicit, set in the gffa, same ageish, enemies to friends to lovers) - it took me three days to read through this and i was just blown away each time i clicked to the next chapter. would have read through it faster if i hadn't started around christmas time. an instant fandom classic in my mind if those are still things. as i was reading it, i was constantly reminded why i love star wars fanfictions and this ship - it read like a love letter to the characters and the universe, though things are necessarily changed by the premise. i just know if this wasn't published all at once, i would have faithfully followed each update. it's everything i wanted in same-ish age fic, where anakin is newly knighted and obi-wan is a senior padawan. the ensemble characters carry so much of the story, and i love the pov switches - it does so much to make the fic feel like a whole world. perhaps not something to read on your lunch break, but absolutely absolutely something you must read!!

(no) fixing it by skyl_tales (mature, canon au) - will this author's works never not have a strangle hold on me? i'm honestly unsure. something about their writing is just incredibly readable every single time. this fic has gotten two more updates than i expected and may get another (who knows?? anything is possible) but reads like a complete story as is. asks the all important question: what if obi-wan was given the choice to go back to make sure that the worst thing in his life didn't happen and he accidentally/truthfully goes back to mustafar and not a few days before? also, as a follow up question, what if sucking on obi-wan kenobi's tits kept anakin from the influence of the dark side? it's worth a shot!

relative matters by anonymous (explicit, modern au, half brothers so actual incest instead of just the canon vibes incest going on generally) - man, i read this during those two weeks of the year where your brain is rotating the folger's coffee commercial around on repeat (you know the feeling) and it managed to scratch the itch perfectly. dirty, dysfunctional, snotty nosed teenagers obi-wan and anakin are stupid and messed up and 'just imagine that i'm your girlfriend' as youre having sex with your half brother....i come back to that vibe sm. need more of it.

in the eye of the beholder by booksnchocolate (explicit, canon, trans!obi-wan) - oh my god! i just read this tonight and loved it so much. another fic where i was just viscerally reminded why i love this ship while i was reading it. anakin's pov of obi-wan is just so soft and interwoven with so much love that it almost feels wrong calling the sex hot because it feels almost too intimate for that. and the author makes it incredibly clear how much obi-wan loves anakin, all without changing pov or having any very long or drawn out confession scene. it's just there, throughout the fic as they interact. and the banter they share, the cameos by ahsoka and rex and the council, all of it together makes this such a great fic. 10/10 would read again instead of writing my policy brief due tomorrow

by omission by posthumous_vigor (explicit, reverse master/padawan, set in the gffa) - i think i reread this for the billionth time sometime in december, but i can't remember. anyway. many heart eyes. love as always. sometimes you just need drunk sex with your master who can read your every thought because you've accidentally dropped the shields around your mental link. also you're wearing fishnets. and you're very drunk. and jealous because your master refused to fake marry you for a mission even though you totally want to be real-married instead. god. it's just hot idk i love this fic and the way this author writes these characters, in all their iterations i've seen from them so far!

On My To Read ASAP List:

heartlines by @lilredghost (explicit, canon au, heavy topics) - as soon as i have fic reading time this weekend that i actually plan out, i'm going to read this fic. i saw the writing process for it in the big bang server and i know it's going to be an actual gem and do my head in so much. there's hardly anything i love more than a twisty curvy timeline plus an unreliable narrator plus coma patient obi-wan waking up and having emotions about anakin having lived life without obi-wan on the peripherals of it etc etc. i'm sat. i can't wait.

the way our horizons meet by @soldieronbarnes (mature, set in the gffa, mail order bride anakin, a/b/o dynamics) - i mean?? mail order bride anakin?? reluctant and perhaps even guilt-ridden obi-wan who has infinite sadness?? this is one of those fics i know i'm going to absolute devour as soon as i start the first paragraph. i cannot wait for dilf obi-wan who looks like obi-wan from the kenobi show caving to his new spouse's wiles or insistent demands or something of that nature. can't decide what i'll love more, but will love it regardless

do the same for him by @thegingerwrites (mature, canon au) - oh geez, this is also one of those fics where i know i will be consumed with the need to keep reading until it's finished as soon as i start it. i love this author's writing style from their previous fics (which you should absolutely check out!) and the summary of this one is promising so many good things. i love a good obi-wan goes after anakin fic <3 it's what they both deserve and this one features sith holocron as well!! it's been a while since i read anakin whump and i am very excited to return to my well-beaten path of adoring some anakin whump <3

WIPs I Am Sat For:

(weekly/monthly/yearly reminder: please consider reading wips if you don't usually - they really are the lifeblood of fandom. if you can, please consider sitting in the kitchen with us writers and keeping us company while we cook. i just think it would be nice)

blur by @darthwillies (explicit, canon au, a/b/o dynamics....or? a dynamics?) - this fic!! what a fic!! it is such an amazing take on like...being on the outside of this very common trope we see all the time and seeing it for the horrors that are embedded in it that we sort of take for granted or filter out because both characters meet each other in the middle of these actions, but in this fic, anakin presents as an alpha and everyone else is just human Jedi around him and no one has any idea what's going on and anakin is a mess of emotions, not least of which are anger and fear, and obi-wan would do anything to make sure he's safe. he's doing a very good job so far imo i can't wait to see where this goes, but i am loving everything that i have been gifted with so far. this author's mind 🤯 unparalleled

close the blinds and kill the birds by @riduurburton (explicit, modern au, same age, mind the tags - dark elements in play) - i am so so fascinated so far with this story, holy hell. what a modern au!! everyone's sorta fucked up and fucking each other up a little further. the intricacies of the relationship growing between obi-wan and anakin and their shifting understandings of each other, even while overshadowed by terrible circumstances in their lives...immaculate. i cannot wait to see what happens next and where this and the characters go. i imagine it'll be pretty dark before (/if) it gets better, but i am already obsessed with following along on that journey

water's turning red by @bunnywan (explicit, modern au, infidelity) - obsessed with this fic sm that whenever i think about it i almost forget that it's a wip. to me it is nine chapters of different ways rich obi-wan is a bitch, connected under him having hired anakin to be his poolboy so he can get a good dicking when his husband is away. their relationship (anakin and obi-wan's, but also i guess obi-wan and cody's) is fascinating. delectable. i would easily read sixty thousand more words of obi-wan stringing anakin along for his dick and not realizing at the same time how much he's come to care about him as a person attached to that dick, etc etc. no notes, no thoughts, just the very, very accurate tag: 'obi-wan is a bitch and i like him so much'

(and finally,,,,sneaking in a black sails, silverflint fic i read in january after i got homesick because omg this reminded me so much of home but make it horror. the writing is so good. half of what haunts me about it is the sentence structure and word choice. the other half is the frankly creepy appalachian mountain range depicted in it but we don't get to pick our homes nor our ghosts)

[gosuckseamonkeys]

Arid Melancholy

Summary: Rafayel is captured and endures brutal torture at the hands of an agent of EVER Group intent on exploiting his people’s secrets.

Zayne, Xavier, Sylus and Rafayel must confront their deepest fear, losing you, and fight against an enemy whose ambition threatens their survival.

AN: Apologies in advance for the angst, I've been looking for similar heart wrenching fics on here for a while now before I decided to write my own. Then an evil little idea formed and pulled me reluctantly out of writing retirement.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4....

Chapter 1 - Approx. 2pm

Jealousy

"I think that's enough for today. We've been at it for hours," Xavier said, wiping the sweat from his brow and stepping back, sheathing his practice sword. "I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted."

“You’re always exhausted,” you groaned, letting your sword fall to your side. “I think I’m getting better, though!”

“You certainly are. I’m looking forward to our next mission together.” A faint blush spread across his cheeks as he ran his fingers through his damp silver hair, brushing it out of his eyes. “I think you deserve a reward for your excellent swordsmanship. How about dinner on the way home? Our usual hot pot place—my treat.”

“I don’t think anyone loves hot pot as much as you do, Xavier,” you teased, packing up your belongings for the walk home. “I’d love to, but I have a date tonight with Rafayel.”

“A what now?” Xavier froze mid-step, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“His exhibit is tonight. I’m sure you’ve heard about it—Thomas has been working overtime promoting the event. It’s all over the news.”

“Who is Thomas?” Xavier picked up his pace to walk alongside you, his expression tight with frustration.

You smiled and turned to face him, gently raising your hand to cup his cheek. “No one you need to worry about.”

Caught off guard, his tense demeanor softened as he leaned into your touch.

“I doubt that… but as long as the whole city is also invited to your ‘date,’ I think I can stomach it,” Xavier muttered.

“You’re adorable when you’re jealous, you know that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he scoffed, grasping your hand and continuing toward your apartment building.

Your phone buzzed, and you reluctantly let go of his hand to retrieve it from your pocket. Seeing the picture on the screen, you grinned, and Xavier’s frown deepened.

“Hey, Rafayel! How are the preparations going?”

“There she is…” Rafayel’s voice carried a note of relief. “I was starting to worry when you didn’t respond to my texts. You didn’t forget about me, did you?”

“With you reminding me every hour on the hour? Not possible,” you chuckled. “I’m almost home. I just need to shower and change.”

“I have something for you,” Rafayel said, his smile evident in his tone. “Hurry up—I’m terrible at surprises, and you need to open it ASAP.”

“See you soon, guppy.”

“Guppy?” Xavier echoed, arching a brow. “Will I see you tomorrow, at least?”

You turned to Xavier, catching his dejected expression. “Tomorrow should be—oh, shit.”

Your sudden exclamation startled him. “What? What is it?”

“I forgot to reschedule my appointment with Dr. Zayne.” You hastily texted your physician, bracing yourself for the inevitable lecture about last-minute cancellations. “He’s going to kill me!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ for tomorrow, then…” Xavier sighed.

The Gift

Rafayel paced outside your apartment, gently swinging a bag containing your gift. He’d been imagining you in it for weeks. The gown was tailored to match the colors of his suit for the event, and he was eager to see you wearing it.

The elevator chimed, and Rafayel’s heart leapt. His excitement dimmed slightly when you stepped off—with Xavier in tow. Wonderful.

You dashed down the hall and threw yourself into Rafayel’s arms. He dropped the bag without hesitation, scooping you up and holding you close. He breathed in your scent, missing you terribly, despite only being apart for a few days.

“I thought we were meeting at the venue!” you exclaimed before trailing off, noticing Xavier looming behind you.

“Xavier,” Rafayel greeted with a forced smile.

Rafayel's greeting was ignored as Xavier bent down to kiss your cheek. “I’ll see you later this week, okay? Let me know when you get home tonight.” His tone carried a warning as he cast Rafayel a sharp glance before striding back to the elevator.

“Who spit in his seabed?” Rafayel asked, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, looping your arm through his and opening your front door. “Xavier can be… overprotective.”

“Possessive,” Rafayel countered.

“Something like that.”

“He should learn to share.”

“Says the man who wants to see me every waking hour.” You quipped.

Rafayel smirked, picking up the bag and following you inside. “I’ll take the sleeping hours too, if you’re offering.”

Walking inside, you set your things down on the coffee table and headed toward the bathroom. Rafayel caught your hand as you passed and pulled you close.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he murmured, tilting your chin to make you meet his gaze, his ever-changing eyes mesmerizing. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your noses almost touching.

Rafayel couldn’t resist as he guided you backward until your back met the wall. Threading his fingers through your hair, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips trailing soft kisses down your throat.

“Wait, Rafayel! I’m gross—I was just working out!” you squealed, squirming in his grasp.

“You’re never gross to me, cutie,” he rasped, his lips brushing against your ear before capturing yours in a slow, sensual kiss. He tugged gently at your lower lip, teasing with his teeth. “Do you need help getting out of your clothes before your shower? I don’t mind getting wet if you want company,” he whispered suggestively.

“We don’t have time for all that—we’ll be late!” You laughed, slipping out of his arms and darting toward the bathroom.

Rafayel let out a dramatic sigh, his voice loud enough to carry through the door. “I could make time,” he teased before muttering to himself, “or just skip the event entirely after I see you wearing the gift I’ve brought...”

After a few minutes, he knocked lightly on the bathroom door. “Cutie, I’m hanging your present on the doorknob. Get dressed and come out when you’re ready.”

“Rafayel, what did you do?” you called out suspiciously.

“You’ll see,” he replied with a playful lilt, sauntering back to the couch and sprawling across it as he waited impatiently.

About fifteen minutes later, he heard the soft click of heels against the floor. He sat up eagerly, his anticipation building. When you stepped into view, his breath caught in his throat.

“How do I look?” you asked, spinning slowly to show off the dress.

“You’re… stunning,” Rafayel whispered, his gaze locked on you in awe.

The gown was a masterpiece, its top half a deep midnight blue that seamlessly transitioned into a rich royal purple near the hem. The silk shimmered with hues reminiscent of the ocean’s depths, and a high slit on the right side revealed just enough of your thigh to make his pulse quicken.

The strapless design left your shoulders bare, a perfect canvas for the delicate necklace he’d chosen. Holding the back of the dress together, you turned to him shyly. “Do you think you could zip me up?”

Rafayel rose slowly, savoring the sight of you. He moved behind you, his fingers brushing yours as he zipped the gown closed with deliberate care.

From his pocket, he pulled out a long silver necklace adorned with a small oyster-shaped pendant cradling a pink pearl.

“You’re enchanting,” he murmured, draping the necklace around your neck and fastening the clasp.

“Rafayel, this is too much,” you said, your voice tinged with awe as he reached for the matching pearl bracelet and earrings.

“It’s nowhere near enough,” he replied softly, his reverent gaze fixed on you. As he fastened the bracelet around your wrist, his tone turned teasing. “These are just little accents to highlight the real treasure by my side tonight.”

“These must have cost a fortune,” you protested, your cheeks warming.

“Don’t even think about it. They’re yours, freely given, with no expectations. All I care about is seeing you happy. Do you like them?”

“Of course I do!”

“Good,” he said with a wicked smile. “Because I can’t wait to unwrap you later.”

His lips claimed yours in a searing kiss that left you breathless. “The sooner we get to the exhibit, the sooner we can leave—and I can have you all to myself,” he murmured against your lips.

“I’ve been dying to see your exhibit! Thomas refused to tell me anything. What did you say to him?” you asked.

Rafayel shrugged, holding the door open for you. As you stepped out of the apartment, he bit his lip and glanced up at the ceiling before quietly closing the door behind him.

“Maybe Thomas is onto something. That dress is going to torture me all night long,” he murmured. His eyes drifted to your exposed thigh, and he rested a hand gently on your soft skin. “We really need to do this more often.”

“You know you don’t have to bring your gun everywhere, right? We hired private security for the evening, so you’re officially off duty tonight, Miss Bodyguard,” he added with a teasing smirk.

You tugged your dress down slightly to ensure the holster strap on your thigh remained hidden. “Wouldn’t you rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it? I feel naked without it.”

“So tempted to make a comment,” Rafayel grinned, “but I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

The Security Team

Thomas opened the back door of the gallery, greeting four imposing men dressed in all-black suits. One by one, they entered the facility at his invitation.

“Gentlemen, thank you for being here today. Normally, Mr. Rafayel has a smaller security detail, but for an event like this, I insisted on something more formal.” Thomas let out a relieved sigh.

“Of course. You’re Thomas, correct? We spoke on the phone,” said Marcus, stepping forward and gesturing over his shoulder, "meet my team."

He introduced the guards and gestured to a man with similar features and build. “This is my brother, Bennett.”

"Family business?" Thomas remarked with curiosity. Bennett nodded in acknowledgment.

“We came out last week to map the facility layout,” Marcus continued. “We’re familiar with the building, but you should walk us through the event details.”

“Wow, you’re thorough,” Thomas replied, visibly impressed. “You came highly recommended by the agency, and I’m beginning to see why.” He motioned for the group to follow as he began walking them through the venue.

Marcus strolled calmly at the front, his sharp eyes taking in the exhibits. “We handle many protection details for high-profile clients and look forward to safeguarding Mr. Rafayel tonight.”

“We appreciate it,” Thomas said. “This is Rafayel’s largest gallery show yet. It includes his work spanning decades and various mediums, all centered around Lemuria—a recurring theme in his art since, well, forever.”

Marcus’s expression darkened slightly as he studied the pieces. “Some research suggests he might be Lemurian himself. Any truth to that?”

“Hardly,” Thomas scoffed, brushing off the question. “He’s just a little more sensitive and eccentric than most. The public likes to paint him as otherworldly, which, of course, I encourage. Free marketing,” he added smoothly, the line rolling off his tongue like a practiced mantra.

Yet deep down, Thomas couldn’t ignore the signs. How could he have worked alongside Rafayel for so many years and not know he was… different? Though Rafayel had never explicitly claimed to be anything other than human, there were too many signs to dismiss.

“My brother will double-check the more restricted areas—the catering hall, lavatories, and employee break room,” Marcus said, snapping Thomas out of his thoughts. “You can never be too careful.”

Marcus glanced over his shoulder and nodded at Bennett, who silently split off from the group and retraced their steps. “My men and I will remain with you to cover all ancillary details. What’s the final count for attendees?”

While Marcus kept Thomas occupied, Bennett slipped outside to the van, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he glanced back as he fastened his seatbelt.

The real security team lay unconscious in the van’s rear compartment.

Bennett smirked wickedly, turning the ignition. As he backed out of the parking lot, he glanced at the figures sprawled out behind him.

“Sorry, boys, but this was the path of least resistance. Don’t worry, you’ll be found in a few weeks. At least your families will get a chance to say a proper goodbye.”

Humming along to the radio, Bennett tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “I’m not a complete monster. Unlike my brother.”

Target Acquired

Rafayel led you into the gallery, trying to shield himself as photographers swarmed outside the venue. Thomas greeted you both in the lobby, looking frazzled.

“You’re late!"

“I’m actually right on time, thanks to this one,” Rafayel said, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

“You’re going to put me in an early grave, I swear! I needed you here an hour ago,” Thomas huffed, shoving a stack of documents into Rafayel’s unoccupied hand.

Rafayel rolled his eyes, “accidentally” dropping the pages into a nearby trash bin. He grabbed your hand and followed Thomas deeper into the building.

“You weren’t kidding about giving me the night off,” you remarked.

“I prefer your exclusive protection, of course,” Rafayel replied, flashing a grin. “But this way, I get your undivided attention. Your only job tonight is to enjoy yourself, Miss Bodyguard.”

“Hurry up!” Thomas scolded as he led you into an overcrowded back office. Inside, four broad-shouldered men dressed in sleek black attire stood waiting.

“Mr. Rafayel,” Marcus greeted, stepping forward. His pale green eyes locked onto Rafayel like a predator spotting its prey. “Good to finally meet you. My team will be managing security for the event tonight. I’m Marcus. Let us know if you need anything.”

“I feel safer already,” Rafayel said, pulling you closer. “Just make sure her safety is a priority too. I can’t live without her.”

You blushed, gently elbowing him in the ribs. “Nice to meet you,” you said, trying to sound professional. “But really, you don’t have to worry about me. I work for the Hunter’s Association, so please focus on his well-being. I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can, cutie,” Rafayel teased.

“I mean it,” you insisted.

“No, she doesn’t. She’s a terrible bodyguard,” he retorted with a smirk.

“Rafayel,” you growled, “if you don’t quit, they’re going to need to protect you from me.”

“So feisty. Love that about you,” Rafayel quipped. “Let’s go grab a drink before the mob outside rushes in. I can’t wait to meet all of Thomas’s little wallet-weasels.”

“They’re donors and patrons, Rafayel,” Thomas groaned. “Be on your best behavior, or I swear…”

Rafayel ignored him, pulling you out of the office before Thomas could finish his lecture.

The Halls of Lemuria - Approx. 5pm

Rafayel spent about thirty minutes mingling with guests, shaking hands, and pandering to the crowd before he slipped an arm around your waist, gently steering you toward the double doors of the exhibit hall.

“Rafayel, wait! You’ve barely scratched the surface of your list. You’ve only spoken to about ten people so far!”

“My social battery is officially empty, and I need a break,” he grumbled. “Besides, you haven’t even seen the actual art yet.”

The transition from the gallery lobby to the exhibits was marked by enormous floor-to-ceiling curtains in rich oceanic hues—deep teals, bright blues, and majestic purples. Rafayel chose a spot in the draped fabric, parting it to invite you under his arm.

The first sight inside took your breath away. Vaulted ceilings were illuminated in soft, swirling colors of cerulean, lavender, and pale blue, mimicking the mesmerizing depths of the sea. Small bubbles descended gracefully from hidden mechanisms in the ceiling, adding to the immersive experience. It felt as though you’d been transported to Rafayel’s long-lost kingdom—a world erased from the planet centuries ago.

The walls showcased paintings in various mediums: sprawling white palaces, lush underwater gardens, coral clusters glowing in vibrant hues, and graceful sea creatures. Yet, the sculptures stole the show. Many appeared suspended, floating on transparent wires above the crowd, as if swimming through the air.

At the room’s center, elevated on a pedestal, stood the exhibit’s centerpiece—a striking sculpture of you. The figure depicted you as Lemurian royalty, complete with an elegant tail and delicate fins. Serene and regal, the sculpture held the emissary of the sea in its hands. Its detail was stunning, from the curve of the tail to the expression of wisdom and grace.

You covered your mouth in shock, overwhelmed by emotion as you took in the artistry. Your eyes finally landed on the inscription at the base of the pedestal, engraved in shimmering gold:

“Property of Mo Art, not available for auction.”

Rafayel’s arms slipped around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling close. “I’ve been working on her for years,” he whispered, a proud smile in his voice. “And I’ll be damned if I let her go home with anyone else.”

Your cheeks flushed as you leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I don’t even know what to say…”

“Then don’t,” he murmured. “Just stay here with me for a moment. The next room is… intense. I want to savor this with you.”

He inhaled deeply, committing the moment to memory. “I can’t take you to Lemuria, but I tried to bring a piece of it here for you.”

Behind the next set of thick blue-grey curtains lay a strikingly different scene. This time, you stepped through first, Rafayel following close behind.

The atmosphere shifted immediately. Fishing nets and the bones of sea creatures draped the ceiling, lowering the room’s height and creating a claustrophobic effect. The walls were adorned with paintings—violent, chaotic depictions of Lemuria’s decimation. Abstract oceans were streaked with blood-red carmine and rust.

Life-size ruins littered the space, forcing patrons to step over and navigate around the destruction to view each piece. The lighting deepened, with crimson and shadow replacing the softer lavender tones of the previous room.

At the room’s center was a towering mound of strung pearls, meticulously fastened together into a monument that reached your waist. You clutched Rafayel’s hand tightly. Each pearl represented the tears of Lemuria’s citizens, shed over centuries of devastation. The weight of their sorrow pressed heavily on your chest.

“These were created during one of the darkest times in my life,” Rafayel said softly, his voice heavy with emotion. He squeezed your hand and pulled you closer, his warmth a reassuring presence. “I haven’t felt the need to revisit those memories since you’ve been with me. I hope it stays that way.”

Without lingering too long, Rafayel guided you toward the final set of curtains—billowing white linens that barely contained a bright, inviting light. “C’mon,” he said with a small smile. “Just one more room.”

As you stepped through, the sensation underfoot changed. Sand. It stretched out in soft mounds, leading to an expansive mural on the far wall—a stunning sunrise painted in vibrant hues of orange, pink, and gold. The air felt warmer here, reminiscent of a coastal morning.

The shoreline stretched down the hall, dotted with smaller sculptures of seashells, crabs, and seagulls. Some of the birds hung suspended from the ceiling, frozen mid-flight.

The sand transitioned into a shallow pool of crystal-clear water, complete with gentle waves lapping at the edge. Beneath the surface, an enormous sculpture depicted the ruins of Lemuria in breathtaking detail.

At the water’s edge stood lifelike sculptures of mourners, their faces cast in grief. One figure, draped in black, stood waist-deep in the water, dissolving into the sea as if returning to the kingdom’s ruins below.

Rafayel’s gaze turned somber as he watched the figure. He held your hand tighter, his eyes reflecting the light of the simulated sunrise.

“What do you say we move on to the dining room?” Rafayel suggested softly, attempting a smile. “I could use a drink—or three.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly before nodding. Together, you left the exhibit, hand in hand, as wealthy patrons and critics marveled at Rafayel’s masterful portrayal of beauty, sorrow, and resilience.

Closing Time - Approx. 7pm

After hours of entertaining, you and Rafayel stood by as Thomas ushered the last patrons out of the dining room. With a sigh of relief, Thomas closed the door behind them, a triumphant smile lighting his face.

“Well done, Rafayel,” Thomas said, raising a champagne flute. “Nearly every piece is sold! Mrs. Hildebrant alone claimed a third from the first room.”

Rafayel raised his glass with a playful groan. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Thomas. But I’m starving. Can we puh-lease go now?”

You giggle at his dramatics mirroring his eagerness, both of you ready for the dinner he'd promised. The only people left in the building were the three of you and the hired security detail.

“Yes, yes, you miserable fish. You’re free to go.” Thomas says with a smile, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be at your studio tomorrow to sort out—”

Before anyone could move, Marcus struck Thomas, knocking him unconscious. Chaos erupted as the security team turned on you and Rafayel.

Bennett snatched you from Rafayel’s side, twisting your arm painfully, pressing a gun to your back. “Rafayel!” you shouted as he summoned his daggers. In a deadly display of skill, he swiftly eliminated one attacker but was forced into battle with Marcus and another guard.

Desperate, you fought back, elbowing Bennett and retrieving your hidden pistol. Firing, you hit one guard and barely grazed Bennett before he retaliated with a brutal blow, sending you sprawling.

Rafayel watched Bennett’s boot descend out of the corner of his eye and raised his hand, Evol roaring to life, setting Bennett ablaze in a fiery rage. The boot barely connected with your ribs before Bennett howled in agony, engulfed in flames.

Managing to recover and scramble to your feet, you raise your pistol to put Bennett out of his misery, but Marcus beat you to pulling the trigger.

Rafayel’s unearthly scream tore through the gallery as he raced to you. His eyes are wide in terror and cries of anguish unlike anything you’ve ever heard before tear from his lungs.

In that moment the pain hit and you collapsed to the floor. Vision tunneling, you clutch at the hole in your chest unable to staunch the flow of blood. Some small part of you finds it funny that after all these years your end wouldn’t be at the claws of a Wanderer.

Falling to his knees, Rafayel cradled you, tears forming into shimmering pearls as they hit the floor. “Stay with me,” he begged, pressing against the wound. “Please, don’t leave me.”

The muffled sounds of struggle soften and you fight to remain conscious, but it’s a futile battle. Rafayel called your name over and over until the darkness claimed you.

Capture

Rafayel would remember the sound of that shot for the rest of his long life. He tried to get between you and the bullet, take it for himself, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“NO!” He cried out, scrambling desperately to your side. As you fall to the floor Rafayel feels his heart fracture. No, please, no no no no.

It took him a moment to realize that the screams echoing through the halls weren’t yours but his.

Falling to his knees, he cradled you, tears forming into shimmering pearls as they hit the floor. You were barely conscious.

“Hey, Cutie. Can you hear me?” His voice was just above a whisper. The eyes he loved so much moved over him in faint recognition.

“There she is,” he wept as he pressed against the wound. “Don’t you dare go anywhere. Please? Stay,” Rafayel begged. “Stay with me.”

Your faint smile was his only solace before your body went limp. The bond between you stalled, and Rafayel’s heart shattered.

Marcus, forgotten in the chaos, reloaded his weapon with tranquilizer rounds and fired. Twice.

Both shots struck Rafayel, but he curled around you protectively with a whimper, defying the drugs coursing through his veins. It paled in comparison to the pain of your flickering bond.

You were leaving again, abandoning him to a world without you in it.

“Will you really die without her?” Marcus drawled, walking toward the couple intertwined on the floor. “That would be terribly inconvenient for me.”

Rafayel felt something grip his collar and yank, but he refused to let go. “Please…please…don’t. I n-need…” He moaned in pain. “Someone, please h-help….”

“Go to sleep, fish,” Marcus sighed in irritation and injected Rafayel with another round. “It will all be over soon.”

Rafayel fought against the tide of sleep dragging him out to sea. He didn’t want to go, but he was fighting a losing battle. His last words were your name as unconsciousness claimed him.

𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆ ｡𓆞˚

Cross posted on AO3 under "holywaterbucketchallenge" for those of you who prefer that platform. Looking forward to your feedback!