#and like…. yeah…. that’s part of life

[kitimeq]

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖˙⟡ first time’s a charm 🤍 xavier 星回 ⋆⟡࿐

࣪˖˙⟡ pairing: xavier x reader.

࣪˖˙⟡ summary: your first time with xavier proved to be much better than you expected considering his inexperience—who knew that he was in fact doomed since the moment you both started?

࣪˖˙⟡ word count: 2k

࣪˖˙⟡tags: 18+, mdni!, first times, jumping right into action, something short inspired by juyo’s art (@/juyonu on tt, @stardustdusting on here!), desperate xavier, blood but no gore!, soft and kind of wholesome at the end? u know me already, teasing, whipped xavier, shits and giggles, dorks in love, love confessions.

࣪˖˙⟡ author’s note: something quick bc i don’t have time for anything else at this moment :(( xav and non xav girlies please tell me what u think, i would be beyond grateful for any like, reblog or comment!! let me know you’re still here ♡

inspired by the art on cover by @/juyonu on twitter, @stardustdusting on tumblr!! please follow her there, she’s one of my fav artists ever ♡

ִ𓂃 ࣪˖˙⟡⋆⟡࿐

Soft huffs and quiet moans were all that you could hear, his head nestled in the crook of your neck as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to every patch of skin he could reach. The clock beside his bed displayed a time far too late for him to still be awake, and yet, the night was far from over, the passion with which he handled you showed no signs of burning out.

Your one hand stroked his hair, gently brushing through the silver strands and sliding your fingers over his red, sensitive ears; the other nestled in his tight grasp, fingers intertwined. Your head turned to him and you pressed a kiss to the side of his head, your eyes closing to savor the feeling of him deep inside you for the first time ever.

One of you trembled, but you weren’t sure who; your bodies pressed so closely they became one, your heartbeats beating to the same rhythm. He whimpered above you, a sound so scarce and unique you wanted to hear it again at once—thus you wrapped your legs around him, pressing him closer, closer, deeper inside you and you stifled your moan just to be able to hear his breath hitching in his throat.

“Are you feeling alright, Xavi?” You asked quietly while he was thrusting inside you gently, unhurriedly, his movements deep, inexperience made up for by his enthusiasm and wandering hands, which seemed to be adamant on touching every part of your sensitive body. He moaned in response, his hips quickening their pace, a surprised gasp of pleasure leaving your mouth at the sudden change.

“M-Mhm—Yeah—S-So good—” His head tilted slightly, his face turned downward to watch how he was disappearing inside you, his mouth opened in awe. “I feel like I’m… melting—” He grabbed your chin with his free, shaky hand, and he kissed you, his tongue slipping inside your mouth eagerly, cutting off everything you wanted to say. Every praise you wanted to utter, knowing that it was his first time and he was already making you feel this good.

As if you were made for each other; two stars, drifting in the vast universe, fortunate enough to cross paths. Each thrust perfect, because it brought you two closer. Each touch welcome, because it was always meant only for you.

“Xavier—!” You suddenly felt both of his hands touching and squeezing at your breasts, and he finally let you breathe, his mouth clasping around one of your nipples instead. He licked and sucked like a man starved, his hips loosing their rhythm, rutting into you clumsily, chasing the pleasure. He was desperate to make you feel just as much as he was feeling, painfully aware that you were handling this a lot better than he was.

His brain turned into mush quite a while ago, while you were still so excruciatingly there, capable of forming coherent sentences, meaningful words. He pitied you, he cursed himself, he wanted you ruined—matching the state he was in, because it was the most blissful he ever felt in his whole life.

He needed to get you there with him, this single focus on your pleasure the only clear thought swirling around in his mind.

“Let me touch you some more, please…” He moaned quietly, his hips snapping harder with every second, “You’re so soft… So, so sweet… I had no idea it would feel this good, I’m—I’m not sure I can live without you, without feeling like this anymore…”

The wet sounds were getting louder, his pre-cum mixing with your increasing arousal, his hands kneading through your breasts gently, his lips not leaving your skin, kissing and sucking, leaving delicate marks wherever they traveled. “You—Hah—You’re getting tighter… I’m sorry, I—I think I need to—” A moan escaped his lips and you grabbed his face with your hands, looking straight into his bright, half-lidded eyes, clouded with desperation. He brightened visibly, mouth opened in a whine, lips pressing a quick, wet peck to yours. One. Two. Three pecks, quick, almost matching the pace of his hips, his moans pressed between your lips.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so good. So, so, so good, Xay.”

“Yeah? Am I—Mmh—Am I making you feel good, too?” His face nuzzled into your palm, his lips left another one of his small kisses inside it. His hot breath grazed at your wrist, making goosebumps spread all over your body. He whimpered and sped up the pace of his thrusts again, making you see literal stars with how far he was reaching inside you. The droplets of his sweat dripped onto the skin of your stomach and breasts, making you gasp in response—their coolness meeting the warmth of your body, adding to the sensations and overwhelming you in the best of ways.

“Ah—Ah—Of—Of course, bunny. I—I’ve never felt better…” The truth slipped from your tongue and he grunted, a soft smile brightening his features, the force of his thrusts increasing, as if he wanted to prove that he could do so much better, if only you continue to let him.

You will. Always and forever.

“That so? I—I want you to melt too—” He breathed out, his chest and abs tensing with the force of his thrusts as well as the strength it took him not to cum on the spot. He wanted to savor that moment for a while longer, to look at you sprawled under him so entrancingly, your body taking him in fully, your beautiful face flushed and glowing, twisted in pleasure that he was finally able to give you. “You’re so—so, so pretty. My pretty baby. My beautiful little star, you’re gonna make me—” Xavier sinked his teeth into his bottom lip, slowing down his thrusts, a silent prayer slipping from his lips to stretch that moment of absolute bliss, to restrain himself from cumming for a while longer.

“I’m so close, Xavier… Xavier…Mmph—” Your voice was cut off by his lips on yours, your whines and cries swallowed by his mouth, his name spoken so sweetly was making his mind hazy and body trembling dangerously. He let go of your pout with a loud pop, a string of saliva connecting you both, his lips swollen and shiny.

You looked angelic, and he finally accepted that he will not last much longer, your voice ringing sweetly in his ears, your frame filling his entire field of vision. He was so obsessed with you it scared him.

“Can I—Ah—come inside you? Please? Please, can I? I will do anything, I will—”

Drip.

Another cold droplet of sweat landed between your breasts, his head hung low, right above you.

Drip.

This one slightly warmer, his big hands touching your cheeks, his pace quickening when you whispered a string of ”yes, yes, yes” only for him to hear. He moaned and shook his head, his body glistening with sweat, your own shaking with the incoming peak.

Drip. Drip.

Drip.

The droplets now warm, landing onto your skin and sticking to your moving body, the sensation making your brows furrow. While he was still thrusting inside you with vigor, you grabbed his face and raised it with shaking hands; what was previously a moan turned into a gasp the moment your eyes met with his face.

Because the droplets were no longer just sweat.

Blood. There was blood coming out of his nose, staining his lips now, his tongue peeking out to taste it, the metallic taste familiar on his tongue.

“Xavier, you’re—AH—Mmm! You’re bleeding—!” The blood now flowed to his chin, landing on his chest as he raised his head. He huffed out a laugh and hastily wiped it away with the side of his arm, smearing it under his nose but never stopping his hips from moving inside you.

“I—Hah—I always knew you’ll be the death of me, starlight.” His tone was soft, teasing. And the last thing you saw was his angelic face, flushed bright pink, hazy mirth in his eyes, and a smile plastered on his face—and you reached your peak, sharp moan cutting through the bedroom, your spine raising upwards with the intensity of your orgasm. He caught you instantly, his strong arms circling around you, face burying into your chest, and pink, plush lips opening in a broken moan the moment he came inside you, so intensely he started to shake.

And when your body finally went pliant in his arms, your heavy breaths and soft sighs filling the air, you felt his lips spread into a smile against your warm skin. He turned his head up to look at you again, one eye opening slowly, his chest raising and falling rapidly, his heart thrumming against yours—his deep blues caught staring at your face with so much love and devotion you wanted to burst right then and there.

And there it was again—a soft laugh escaped his lips, the blood still staining his upper lip, nose and chin. Small droplets of it were now smeared on your body, too.

“Mmm, M’ sorry. M’ sorry, star, you just felt and looked so wonderful I couldn’t help but spill all I had—” You burst out laughing, cutting off his joke, your hand playfully pushing at his shoulder. He immediately joined you in this moment of happiness, his soft giggles mixing with yours.

Then, he caught your hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. A satisfied sigh left your lips as your body was now pressed between him and the soft, velvety covers. He brought his face to yours and grazed your nose with his, a gentle smile still adorning his face. He was glowing—a mesmerizing flocks of light filled the whole room, casting you both in a warm, cosy light—an image of his everlasting passion and affection, a love letter to the way you made him feel.

“How are you feeling, my love?” He whispered softly against your lips, and you pecked his mouth, another giggle escaping you. He shifted inside you, making you hiss quietly, your body still tender, your senses heightened.

“Hmm, perfect.” You answered, and he nuzzled your cheek, the tips of his ears still red. He was probably smearing his blood all over your face at this point, but you didn’t find it in yourself to get mad at him, not when its appearance was the sign of his pleasure. “You were perfect, Xavier.”

“And so were you. Perfect. God, so perfect I—” He raised his head again and pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closing for a moment, basking in the afterglow. His hands were holding your cheeks now, his thumbs stroking the warm skin delicately, and you grabbed his forearms, returning the gesture. “I love you, my star. I love you so much. And I’m never going to let you go. Ever.” The last word a gentle whisper against your temple, followed by a lingering kiss. “I hope you’re okay with that.”

You blinked down your happy tears, refusing to let them fall, and your mouth opened to respond to his confession. But before you could bare your heart before him, he continued to speak in that soft, enticing tone of his.

“And I’m sorry for bleeding on you. You were just squeezing me so hard I nearly went out like a light—”

“You’re such a dork!”

Another hit on his arm, this time harder— meant not to hurt, but an answer to his endless teasing. His bubbly laugh quickly mingled with yours, and a comforting moonlight slipped through the curtains, embracing your restless figures in its gentle glow.

This marked the end of your first night together, along with the beginning of your shared future, laced with the feelings of comfort and never-ending joy. Countless years spent in each other’s embrace, countless nights of hushed whispers and soft laughs. Some days easier, drifting by leisurely; others harder, ending in tears and uncertainty.

But every single day special, because you were by his side now. Every single one extraordinary and important, filled with new experiences, new places, new opportunities.

And while he held your body close that night, his ear pressed to your chest, basking in the enchanting melody of your beating heart, Xavier thought dreamily that he couldn’t wait to experience them all—as long as you were beside him.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖˙⟡⋆⟡࿐

hi!! i hope you liked it, even if i wrote that one really quickly. i got suddenly inspired and wanted to write it in one go!!

it surprised me that it’s my 2nd published xavier work, especially when i feel that i write for him so much!! i have abundance of his fics sitting in my drafts—my toxic perfectionism, lack of time and love for long one shots are my greatest enemies in this case. but i hope to publish some more things with him in the future!! i still have my xav bunny mini series and lumiere 2part!! im really proud of them so i will post them for sure! <33

thank u for reading what i wrote, i hope that you liked it even a lil bit and that you’ll let me know if u do <3 i appreciate every single like, reblog and comment and i treasure every single one of u. thank u for being here with me <3

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | come back to bed

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @makanirock05) : you tell your f1 boyfriend to “come back to bed” while they're gaming or doing something and when they come in the room you flash them ;) (tiktok trend)

୨ৎ : genre : comedy / tik-tok trend ୨ৎ : tws : slightly suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 2783

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : you guys KNOW i love writing these trend posts.. also monaco weekend lAWDDDDD I HAVE BEEN ANTICIPATING THIS MOMENT.

ʚ・max verstappen

the sound of engine revs echoed down the hallway — max was deep into some sim racing session, probably mid-championship, headset on, completely in the zone.

you leaned on the doorframe, wearing nothing but one of his oversized red bull shirts and a mischievous smile.

“max,” you called softly.

he didn’t even glance up, adjusting the wheel with intense focus. “mhm?”

“come back to bed,” you said, voice sweet and low.

still nothing — just the clicking of paddles and the occasional mutter in dutch. a full-on tunnel vision moment.

you bit your lip, then slowly stepped into the room, arms folded behind your back.

he must’ve sensed movement in his periphery because he finally glanced toward you. just a glance.

and then?

immediate double take.

his eyes widened as his jaw went slightly slack. “wat de f—”

you didn't say a word. just dropped the shirt, still holding it in place for now, and tilted your head toward the hallway. “bed. now?”

the silence that followed was deafening. his car slammed into a barrier on-screen, the thud echoing through his headset, but max didn’t even flinch. his controller dropped to the floor like it offended him.

“okay—yeah. yes. i’m—give me a second.”

he tugged the headset off so fast it caught in his curls. tripped over the wires. stepped on his own sock. you didn’t even move — just stood there, blinking innocently as if you weren’t actively destroying the man’s brain.

he crossed the room in three big strides, his hands reaching for your waist like it was pure muscle memory. “you planned this.”

you smiled. “i don’t know what you mean.”

“you definitely planned this. i was leading.” he kissed your shoulder, then lower. “now i don’t care.”

“you lost?”

max looked up at you, eyes dark, voice low. “i’m about to win something better.”

you barely had time to laugh before he scooped you up — shirt still dangling from your hand — and carried you toward the bedroom like the sim rig had ceased to exist. the sound of his game over screen blinked softly in the background.

“max,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck, “you didn’t even pause.”

he grinned against your skin. “i did. i paused my whole life. for this.”

ʚ・lewis hamilton

it was late, but lewis was wide awake, perched at the edge of the couch with his laptop in front of him and his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. some kind of zoom call played quietly — a team debrief or maybe a sponsor meeting. you couldn’t tell. you weren’t paying attention.

you were wearing one of his t-shirts, soft with age and hanging off your shoulder. nothing underneath. not really planning anything… until you saw him push the glasses up and bite his lip slightly while concentrating.

yeah. it was absolutely planned now.

you padded softly into the room, leaning on the doorframe just out of the camera’s view.

“babe,” you whispered, voice low and teasing.

lewis glanced over with the faintest smile. “hey, baby. i’ll be done soon.”

“come back to bed.”

he didn’t look up right away. “i will, i promise. just gotta finish this slide.”

you stepped closer. still out of frame. still innocent.

and then you let the shirt drop.

his jaw didn’t drop, but his hand froze on the keyboard. his eyes flicked from the laptop to you, down your body, and then back up to your face — expression completely unreadable for a second.

then he said, very calmly, to his screen: “can you give me two minutes? i’ll be right back.”

he didn’t even wait for the response.

the laptop snapped shut in one swift motion.

“lewis—” you started, backing up with a giggle as he stood up, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants.

“you can’t just do that,” he muttered, stalking toward you with a calmness that was somehow more dangerous.

you took one slow step backward. “do what?”

he smirked. “walk in here like that. drop that shirt like it’s nothing.”

“it was nothing.”

“mhm.” he reached you, fingers sliding gently along your bare waist. “it’s something now.”

your back met the wall, but he was already pressing a kiss to your shoulder, slow and deliberate.

“thought you had a meeting,” you teased breathlessly.

“not anymore.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling as he tilted your chin up. “that was fast.”

he chuckled, voice low in your ear. “there was a much more urgent situation happening in the hallway.”

you didn’t say anything else. you didn’t need to.

the laptop sat forgotten on the couch — screen off, meeting abandoned — while lewis carried you right back to bed.

ʚ・george russell

george was hunched over the dining table, sleeves rolled up, laptop open, glasses on, and completely immersed in a spreadsheet titled something painfully dull like training metrics - q2 review. you watched him from the hallway in silence for a moment, admiring the little furrow in his brow and the way his foot tapped softly against the leg of the chair.

you weren’t trying to distract him. not at first.

but then he let out a soft sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, and your brain short-circuited. you were still in his shirt — just his shirt — and he hadn’t come back to bed like he promised.

so you padded across the hardwood floor quietly and leaned on the wall near the kitchen entrance. his back was to you, so you cleared your throat.

“george,” you said sweetly.

“mhm?” he hummed, not even turning around. still typing.

“come back to bed.”

“in a moment, love. just finishing this—wait—”

you dropped the shirt.

he heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor and finally turned his head — just a little. then a little more. then he full-on spun around in his chair like a dramatic movie character discovering a plot twist.

his mouth parted just slightly, eyes going wide.

“good god,” he whispered.

you gave him a sheepish shrug and a cheeky smile. “bed?”

george blinked hard like he was trying to reboot. “that… that is so unfair.”

you laughed as he stood, chair squeaking back against the floor. “i was being productive.”

“you still can be,” you teased, stepping back slowly as he approached, tugging his glasses off with one hand and tossing them onto the table without breaking eye contact.

“not when you’re walking around like that. christ.”

“are you blushing?”

“i’m british. of course i’m blushing.”

he reached you, hands gently settling at your waist, voice dropping lower. “you know i had two more pages of data to go through?”

“consider this a better use of your time.”

george leaned in, kissing your forehead first, then your lips — slow and warm and full of restrained chaos. “i’ll be giving you my full attention now.”

and with that, the spreadsheet was long forgotten. the only numbers he cared about tonight were the goosebumps rising across your skin.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos was lying on the couch, shirtless, legs stretched out, fifa controller in hand and a smug look on his face. you could hear the commentary from the game echoing softly down the hallway — he was winning. of course he was.

you leaned on the doorframe, wearing the thinnest tank top and underwear, watching him like he was some sort of wildlife documentary subject. calm. focused. unbothered. and clearly neglecting his “i’ll be right there” promise from twenty minutes ago.

you cleared your throat. “carlos.”

he didn’t look away. “mhm?”

“come back to bed.”

he laughed under his breath, still controlling his virtual team. “let me finish this match, cariño. i’m almost done.”

you stepped into the room, letting the soft overhead light catch the curve of your body as you moved to the side of the couch — just out of reach.

“carlos,” you repeated, voice slower, sweeter. “come. back. to bed.”

he glanced up.

and that’s when you dropped the tank top.

it hit the floor silently.

carlos didn’t.

his thumb missed the joystick, sending the ball flying into the corner flag, and his jaw literally dropped open. the controller clattered to his chest as he just stared — fully, openly, no blinking.

“madre de dios.”

you raised your brows, all innocence. “something wrong?”

he blinked. “do that again. i dare you.”

you smiled, tilting your head. “do what?”

he groaned, sitting up like gravity had stopped working, running a hand down his face. “you’re trying to kill me. i swear.”

“you’ve been playing for so long…”

“i was playing well—until you came in here with your evil tricks.”

“are they working?”

carlos stood up slowly, gaze trailing over you like he was trying to memorize the moment. “you think i’m just going to let that slide?”

you laughed and took a step back, holding your hands up. “hey, i just made a request.”

“you made a statement,” he muttered, already circling the couch.

“where are you going?”

“to make sure you never have to ask me to come back to bed again.”

you shrieked when he lunged, catching you by the waist and lifting you effortlessly. he carried you off toward the bedroom like a man on a mission — fifa completely forgotten.

“your game!” you giggled, kicking your legs.

“it can lose.”

carlos was officially done playing — just not the way you expected.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles was at the piano.

hair messy from a shower, plain white t-shirt hanging just right, fingers dancing effortlessly over the keys. he wasn’t even reading sheet music — just lost in some improvisation, humming softly as he played.

you were supposed to be patient. you’d already said “come to bed” once and he’d mumbled “just a few more minutes, amour.” that was fifteen minutes ago.

now?

now you were done playing nice.

you padded softly into the living room, the only light coming from the dim lamp by the piano. you didn’t say anything. just stood in the doorway for a second, watching him — this boy who looked like art, who played like he was trying to say everything he didn’t know how to say out loud.

“charles,” you said gently.

he kept playing, glancing over his shoulder with a lazy smile. “oui, chérie?”

“come back to bed.”

“i’m almost—” he started, then froze.

because the second he turned his head fully, you let the robe fall from your shoulders.

soft, slow.

deliberate.

you were wearing nothing underneath.

his hands stilled on the keys mid-note. for a moment, he just blinked — once, twice — like his brain needed a second to process what his eyes were seeing.

then?

his mouth parted just slightly. “putain.”

you stepped closer, saying nothing, letting the silence thicken like syrup between you.

“are you trying to ruin me?” he asked, voice low, breath catching just a little. “because it’s working.”

you smiled, all innocent. “you said five minutes.”

“that was before you—” he gestured vaguely, eyes still fixed on you like you might disappear if he blinked.

“you looked busy,” you teased, walking over to him slowly.

“i’m about to be,” he muttered.

he stood, chair scraping softly against the hardwood as he reached you. his hands settled on your waist gently, reverently, like you were breakable. his voice was a whisper against your skin. “you walk in here like that and expect me to keep playing?”

“i was hoping you’d switch instruments,” you said sweetly.

he huffed a laugh — strained, desperate. “you’re impossible.”

you leaned up to kiss him, slow and teasing, and felt the sharp exhale against your mouth as he melted into you.

the piano sat behind him, long forgotten, as charles slid his hands down your back and murmured something in french you didn’t quite catch — but didn’t need to.

you already had his full attention.

ʚ・lando norris

lando was deep into a stream — headset on, focused expression, yelling at his teammates like they could actually hear him better if he leaned closer to the mic.

“BOX, BOX, BOX—NO YOU’RE MEANT TO COVER THE INSIDE, YOU TWAT!” he yelled, halfway off his chair. you’d been watching from the hallway for a few minutes, biting your lip, waiting for the right moment.

you were wearing his mclaren hoodie and absolutely nothing underneath.

it was time.

you knocked on the doorframe gently. “lando.”

he glanced over, smile automatic. “hi, babe. i’m almost done, yeah?”

“come back to bed,” you said sweetly.

“promise i will—give me five mins, i’m in the last few laps.”

you tilted your head. “are you sure?”

“baaaabe,” he whined, eyes back on the screen, “i’ll be quick i swear.”

so you dropped the hoodie.

soft fabric pooled around your feet.

he didn’t see it immediately — but when he looked again, mid-turn, his reaction was instant and explosive.

his head whipped toward you. controller dropped. car went off track. he yanked off his headset like it had personally offended him.

“what the f— oh my god. oh my—babe.”

you blinked innocently, still standing there in absolutely nothing, hands behind your back.

“i—did you—what—why?”

you shrugged. “i was cold. needed you to warm me up.”

he blinked like you’d slapped him. “i just drove into the wall.”

“oops.”

“no no, not oops,” he said, standing up so fast the chair nearly tipped. “that’s—i’m gonna crash again. on purpose this time.”

you giggled as he crossed the room toward you like a man possessed, eyes wide, mouth parted in disbelief. “you flashed me. mid-race. you flashed me.”

“i asked you to come back to bed.”

“you’re naked!”

you tilted your head. “so are you, technically, under your clothes.”

he groaned like he was in pain, hands running through his curls. “oh my god, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, swaying into him. “wouldn’t be the worst way to go.”

he let out a choked laugh, already backing you toward the bedroom, mumbling under his breath. “someone clip that stream. i need to see the exact moment i lost the will to compete.”

“and what’re you doing now?”

he kissed your shoulder, voice rough. “retiring. immediately. full dnf.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

oscar was perched on the edge of the bed, laptop open, ipad in hand, headphones in—all business. his brows were furrowed in that quiet, determined way he always got when reviewing footage, laser-focused on sector times like they were sacred.

he’d been sitting like that for almost an hour, eyes flicking between data sets like he wasn’t actively ignoring your very obvious attempts to get him back under the covers.

you were trying to be patient.

but then you caught your reflection in the mirror—one of his oversized shirts hanging loose off your shoulder, legs bare, nothing underneath.

and your brain said: what if?

you walked to the doorway and leaned your head around the corner.

“oscar,” you called gently.

he didn’t look up, but you saw the faintest twitch of acknowledgment. “mm?”

“come back to bed.”

“i will,” he said distractedly, scribbling something on the ipad. “just want to finish this last lap analysis.”

you stepped into the room. “you sure?”

“yeah, it won’t take long.”

you dropped the shirt.

it landed softly at your feet.

oscar finally looked up.

and stopped breathing.

his hand froze mid-air, stylus hovering inches above the screen. his mouth parted slightly, not dramatically, but in that rare way he only ever looked when he was completely, truly speechless.

you blinked innocently. “problem?”

his voice cracked a little when he answered. “i’m… gonna need to pause.”

you watched as he calmly removed his headphones. closed the laptop. put the ipad aside.

then slowly stood.

“you planned this.”

“me?” you said, stepping back as he approached. “never.”

“you’re naked.” his voice was calm. controlled. except for the very obvious shake at the end of the word.

“you weren’t listening.”

he stopped in front of you, jaw tense, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

“i was listening,” he said softly. “i just didn’t think you’d weaponize it.”

you smiled. “effective, though?”

“devastating.”

you leaned up to kiss him, and he caught your waist mid-movement, fingers digging in just a little harder than usual.

“you’re evil,” he muttered against your lips.

you kissed him again. “you love me.”

“unfortunately,” he whispered, lifting you into his arms like it was the easiest decision he’d made all day. “i really, really do.”

the laptop beeped in protest somewhere in the background, but oscar didn’t hear it.

he had a new favorite sector to analyze.

and it wasn’t on the screen.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[stzrgirl4norris]

winner's get kisses

max verstappen x socialite!reader smau

summary: as you begin to attend the races more frequently than usual, fans start to wonder the reason behind your appearances and it doesn't take long before speculations surrounding a relationship with one of the drivers. and max? he's jealous and tired of seeing people get it wrong

based on this request by this lovely anon

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

liked by user1, user2 and 566,789 others

f1gossip Super fan alert?🚨 socialite and it girl @ yourusername has been seen around the paddock for the race this weekend, this is her fourth race of the season. The reason behind her appearances remain a mystery.

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user god forbid a girl has a hobby 🙄

user oh shocking another model trying to date one of the drivers lol

user hasn't she always been a fan of f1 you guys?

user !!!!! she has always been interested in races, even before she got in the public eye

user oh yes, a woman who likes a sport, it's probably because of the cute athletes 🙄🙄🙄

user i hope it's lando 😍

user ewwww not lando user what's wrong with lando??? user they have been friends for years now

⋆˚✿˖°yourusername added to their story

"another day of being a sunday racing club member"

⋆˚✿˖°Y/N on Vogue Beauty Secrets:

liked by maxverstappen1, lando, redbullracing and 2,398,482 others

yourusername never getting tired of engine sounds. also, congrats champ @ maxverstappen1 💙

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user OH MY GOD IS IT MAX?

user chill guys leave her alone tf

user you are so weird for obsessing over her dating life

maxverstappen1 thank you so much! ❤️

user oh he gave her the red heart user yeah it's max

lando where is my congratulations post?😭

yourusername bro you finished p8 lando rude af user this is giving enemies to lovers

georgerussell63 so good to see you this weekend! 😊

user my boy is fliiiiiirting user george behave yourusername get ready to see me more often georgerussell63 looking forward to it ❤️ liked by author

╭──────────.★..─╮ monaco grand prix ╰─..★.──────────╯

liked by redbullracing, ferrari, f1 and 788,900 others

f1gossip New couple alert! After an astonishing win by four time World Champion Max Verstappen in Monaco, he celebrated in a different style by running straight into his girlfriend's, Y/N Y/L/N, arms, launching their relationship to the world

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user yes! real journalism is back

user the most exciting part of the race to be honest

user his radio after crossing the line saying "this one is for my girlfriend"😭👏👏👏👏

user i collapsed on my living room user the crowd was shook

user this was cinematic af the f1 movie could never

user i bet max got tired of y'all saying she's dating every single driver, except him, so he decided to end this shit and shut everyone up

maxverstappen1 that's precisely it

user hard lauching your relationship with a socialite who is like every guy's dream girl after winning the monaco grand prix and securing first place on the championship is actually so max verstappen

liked by yourusername, redbullracing, danielricciardo and 8,922,394 others

maxverstappen1 Got tired of you guys saying she is dating every single guy on the grid but me, so I had to prove a point

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lando mate you did not have to win like this to prove a point...

danielricciardo bro you could've just told the press...

maxverstappen1 it wouldn't have the same effect

user may this love find me🙏🙏

user he is so extra pls 😭🙄

yourusername next time you're about to kiss me on live television, please let me know so i can put red lipstick and smudge your face

user ok now they're just being unhinged maxvertsappen1 get ready then 😉

user if this is how they announced their relationship, i wonder how they'll announce their wedding

maxverstappen1 maybe a few fireworks in red and blue with the words "will you marry me?" after i win the wdc danielricciardo how is your pr team allowing you to post this? maxverstappen1 they aren't

redbullracing red bull princess 💙❤️

charles_leclerc it's okay yourusername you're still invited to our garage whenever😊😘

maxverstappen1 @ yourusername you've been to their garage?????? charles_leclerc and she'll keep coming maxverstappen1 only to set your car on fire

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, lando and 4,389,382 others

yourusername i rather much prefer the kissing without the helmet on, thank you very much

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user she said "that's my man"✋💅

user your honor i'm on the floor

user i'm a big fan of this

user no way how tf did he pull her?

maxverstappen1 love you! ❤️

lando gross 🤢 it's like seeing my parents kiss

yourusername take your single ass out of my ig comments

charles_leclerc i wonder what max did to deserve this much success in life🫠

user lmaoooo charles user this comment please💀💀

user fucking max verstappen is the luckiest guy in the world

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername, lando and 2,392,283 others

danielricciardo i'm glad these two idiots decided to go public so now i can post pictures like this without having pr screaming at me

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user Y/N AND HEIDI WITH THE MATCHING SHIRTS😭😭😭😭

user i am totally normal about this btw

user can you imagine this double date???

user absolute chaos

yourusername omg if you ever caught me wrapped in a max verstappen blanket, no you didn't

danielricciardo that's not even the only picture i have of you like this lando i have about three tbh

maxverstappen1 you look like a fan account😂😂😂

user don't be shy dani post your entire camera roll

[lilbabychilton]

A Slice of Life at Shift Change with, Jack Abbot

Jack Abbot x Reader

Not edited, and exactly what the title says. Just a little mundane, slightly fluffy slice of life with Jack Abbot. Trying to flex my writing muscles again. No warnings. (Reader referred to as pretty, otherwise not gender specific.) Let me know if you want to see any more "Slice of Life" content for any of the characters I write.

---

Your head was down on your workstation, resting on your forearms. You’d spent the better part of the last 10 minutes like this, trying to will away an oncoming headache and finish updating patient records for the night. 

“Rough night?” Asked a familiar voice from behind you, steady and dry with a lilt of teasing at the end. 

“Rough life.” You replied, picking up your head and furiously rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 

When you finally opened your eyes there was a steaming to-go cup sitting in front of you, and you smiled. Your gaze was met by Jack's intense yet kind eyes, and a besotted grin. He watched intently, scanning you over as if he was making sure you were still in one piece, while you picked up the cup and took a long, appreciative sip. 

“Jack Abbot, you’re an angel.” You hummed, before going in for another sip.

Dana scoffed at the idea of Jack being an angel, and Dr. Shen leaned against the counter and sighed dramatically, “how come you never bring me tea, Abbot?” 

Before Jack could answer, Dana laughed, “because you’re not nearly as pretty, Shen.” 

Shen gasped in mock offence, “I happen to be beautiful.” 

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game, John.” You replied, taking an exaggerated sip, never breaking eye contact as he walked away. 

Jack rolled his eyes with a chuckle, “where’s Robby?” 

“Debriefing everyone before the shift is over.” You replied, looking back towards the staff room where everyone was gathered. 

“He’s gonna be pissed you’re not in there.” Jack said with a barely concealed smirk on his lips. He found it hard not to smile while talking to you. 

“It’s a good thing I’ve got you to protect me from his wrath.” You countered, finally finishing the last of your patient notes for the night and logging off. 

“Some things are beyond even my abilities, Sweetheart.” Jack mumbled, before pressing his lips to your temple in a gentle kiss and starting to walk away.

“Are we still on for this weekend?” You called after him, getting up from your chair and walking towards the breakroom, to-go cup in hand. 

“Yeah, I’m picking the movie this time though.” He answered, as he picked up a tablet and prepared to go over some patient notes. 

“What’s wrong with the movies I pick?” You asked, furrowing your brows and feigning offence. 

“Because a man can only sit through so many Plant of the Apes movies, before he loses his mind.” He quipped, grinning from ear to ear at the memory of the weekend you spent together curled up in bed, eating popcorn, and marathoning movies. 

“You loved it. Asshole.” you grumbled, covertly flipping him off by scratching your nose with your middle finger, and then slipping into the staff room before he could respond. 

“Me-ow,” Jack mumbled to himself with a laugh, before turning his attention back to the patient notes.

---

Like my writing? Buy me a coffee???: https://ko-fi.com/jillton

[trevuorzegras]

MOVING IN SILENCE 　QUINN HUGHES

　　　quinn hughes x fem!reader

SUMMARY　After Quinn spent his entire life ignoring his brother’s bestfriend, figuring it was for the better, he finally realized maybe it wasn’t after all.

contains　angst, kissing, age gap ( 22 & 25 ), pining, bestfriends brother, platonic!luke x reader, fem!reader, use of y/n.

　　EVER SINCE Luke made it to the NHL back in 2023, communication between the two best friends had quietly faded into silence. No harsh words. No falling out. Just... distance. At least, that's how y/n chose to see it. People grow up. People grow apart. That's what she kept telling herself.

She tried to believe it — really, she did. But how could she? She and Luke had talked every single day since they were fifteen. She'd even applied to University of Michigan just to be with him, knowing how terrified he was to leave home.

Going from constant conversations to just a "Happy Birthday" once a year was brutal. It was like grieving someone who was still alive. The loss of him, of what they were, settled like dust on her heart. She didn't even go home for the summer, too afraid to run into him — or worse, see his family and feel the sting of what was lost.

This year, though, something shifted. She was tired of avoiding the past. She was going home. But that decision didn't stop the anxiety that pulsed through her veins as she passed the Hughes' lake house on her way. Her gaze flicked toward the familiar yard — and froze.

There they were. The brothers. Basketball in hand, laughter echoing through the air. And then her eyes locked with Luke's. Her breath caught. Panic surged. She ducked below the car window like a kid avoiding trouble.

Luke, being the stubborn one, wasn't about to let her disappear. He followed the sidewalk right up to her front door with Jack and Quinn following behind him. She was fumbling with her suitcase, trying to hurry inside, when Jack raised a brow and deadpanned, "Really?"

Y/n sighed in defeat and turned to face them. "Hi."

The three boys studied her like a puzzle they'd been missing pieces of. Time had changed her — matured her — but there was something familiar in her stance, her eyes, her presence.

Luke cleared his throat, catching the eyes of the girl whose gaze had drifted to the ground. "I missed you, Bug."

It didn't take long for y/n to fall back into rhythm with the Hughes family. Ellen was over the moon to have her around again, and Jack was just relieved to have someone break the family routine. The connection between her and Luke slid back into place as if the silence had never happened — playful teasing, easy conversations, comfortable laughter.

She was grateful. Not just for their acceptance, but for how natural it all felt. Part of her still ached from how Luke had pulled away, but the bigger part — the part that mattered — knew this was better than nothing.

But one thing hadn't changed. Something that she so desperately wished would have.

Quinn.

He still didn't talk to her. Not in a rude way — he never had been unkind. But he always seemed to have somewhere to be when she entered a room. He'd pretend not to hear her or only offer nods and half smiles. His silence had always hurt more than any insult could.

Now, though? His gaze lingered. Longer than before. There was something different in the way he looked at her — curious, maybe hesitant. Still, he didn't speak.

So when Luke casually mentioned that Quinn had asked about her, she blinked. "He asked about me?"

Luke shrugged. "Yeah. Back when he got drafted, he'd check in. Ask how you were. I didn't think much of it... until even when I stopped talking to you, he still asked."

That's when it hit him. Quinn had fallen for her.

Quietly. Consistently. Just like y/n had once fallen for him.

She had been sixteen when she first noticed Quinn wasn't just Luke's older brother anymore — he was mesmerizing. Not in the loud, charming way Jack and Luke were.

Quinn was gentle. Steady. Thoughtful. He'd hand her a glass of water before she realized she needed it. Hold open doors without a second glance. Laugh at her terrible jokes with that soft smile.

He was the quiet to her storm.

And Luke? He'd always known. Probably before she did. He'd seen the way her eyes trailed Quinn when he entered a room. The way she looked at him like he held the sky in his hands.

And maybe Quinn had noticed, too.

It was late July when it finally happened. A warm night, the lake shimmering under the moonlight.

Y/n stood at the end of the dock, barefoot, her toes curling over the edge of the weathered wood. The cool breeze tugged gently at her sweatshirt, but her heart was what felt unsteady — caught in that space between hope and fear.

Footsteps echoed on the dock behind her — slow, hesitant.

She turned.

It was Quinn.

Not Jack. Not Luke. Just Quinn. Hands in the pockets of his hoodie, eyes cast downward, like he was afraid if he looked at her too long, he might lose the nerve to speak.

He stopped a few feet away, the soft thud of his shoes on the dock marking the space between them.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

The quiet stretched. But it wasn't the awkward kind of silence they used to share. It was different now.

Unspoken things lingering between them like the warm summer air.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, voice barely above a whisper.

Her brows drew together. "For what?"

He let out a slow breath, eyes finally lifting to meet hers. "For not talking to you all those years. For the way i pulled away when I should've tried harder. I thought if I kept my distance, it would get easier."

She tilted her head. "Easier?"

Quinn took another step closer, his voice low, raw. "To pretend I didn't feel what I felt. That I didn’t care about you the way I did. The way I still do."

Her breath caught.

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking so much younger than usual. Like the boy she had remembered, not the man he had become. "I didn't know how to be near you without giving myself away. And when Luke said you weren't coming back that summer... I thought l'd lost my chance."

Y/n stepped forward, heart pounding. "You didn't."

He looked up.

"I waited," she said softly. "I waited for so long, Quinn. I just didn't think you saw me. Not really."

"I did," he said, voice barely steady. "God, I always saw you. You were the only one I looked for in every room."

Her throat tightened as the words finally settled between them. Years of longing, of near misses and quiet heartbreaks, were suddenly laid bare.

The tension that had hovered in every shared glance, every almost conversation — it all made sense now.

She took another step forward until there was no space left between them. "So what now?"

Quinn reached for her hand — tentative at first, like he was still afraid she might disappear. When she didn't pull away, his fingers laced with hers, warm and steady.

"Now," he whispered, "I make up for all the time I wasted."

She smiled through the tears welling in her eyes, blinking up at him. "You don't have to rush. I'm not going anywhere."

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, eyes soft, full of everything he hadn't been able to say before. "I wish l'd told you sooner. I wish l'd told you when we were younger, when I'd hear you laugh with Luke and think about how i hoped you’d look at me that way."

"I did," y/n whispered. "I always did."

And then he leaned in, gently, reverently, as if he wasn't just kissing a girl — but the girl. The one he had watched from afar, asked about in quiet texts, carried with him through years of silence. The one who had always been his and didn't know it yet.

The kiss wasn't rushed or dramatic. It was honest. Soft. The kind of kiss that said: i see you. I've always seen you. And I'm not looking away anymore.

When they pulled apart, her forehead rested against his, and they both exhaled — relieved, grounded, home.

After years of distance and almosts, they had finally found their way back. Not just to each other. But to the place they were always meant to be. Together.

　　 NAVIGATION　　 ✶ 　　BLOG INSPIRATION

© V A M P — plesse do not copy, repost, translate, or use my work without consent.

[hermitsdump]

this IS a cult thing.

when something is supposed to happen, like the world ending, some space travel type thing, or an immortal leader dying, whatever - you might expect the cults to crumble away, to realize they were wrong and crack the brainwashing.

but they double down, grip on their beliefs even harder.

part of that is bc an element of cults is the high entrance and high exit cost - giving up your life, career, family, friends, home, etc to join the cult? and now all you have is within the cult.... it gets hard to leave.

it's like "don't cling to a mistake just bc you spent a long time making it".

and yeah, cults loving the martyr narrative. being the predator and playing the victim.

cults also tend to restrict medical care. and information.

how do you know that you're not the one in a cult? ....are you limiting your exposure to other perspectives? is knowledge forbidden to you? are you only allowed to learn from a few sources?

remember, no information is bad. it might save you.

[lxvvie]

Threadbare.

“You’re doing it again.”

Simon’s back stiffened. He didn’t need context clues to know what it meant. Fuck.

Cigarette butts galore in his makeshift ashtray, the empty cartons of microwave dinners, and the dark circles under his eyes—damning stuff, that. He didn’t have the energy to argue otherwise. Couldn’t be arsed to meet your stare head on, either. Didn’t need to; the tone of your voice more than made up for what he’d see.

The weary bastard supposes it’s been a while since he saw you. His latest deployment went longer than anticipated and when he came home, work kept you busy and his demons went unchecked. Simon couldn’t find a middle ground, couldn’t achieve equilibrium, so he lost himself in the usual: little sleep, shitty cigarettes, even shittier food, and pity wanks. Bloody hell, he was pathetic.

“You promised me, Simon.” Just had to remind him, huh? Yeah, he did and no, he didn’t keep it. Fuckin’ sue him, then. He was a soldier where it counted, though, and kept his mouth shut and gaze downward to avoid turning this into an even bigger shitshow.

Then you fucked him over.

You brushed your fingers lightly over his jaw, over stubble days old and a fading scar, and he would’ve shivered if he weren’t so goddamn tired—when has that ever stopped him before? Your touch was a bloody godsend in the most painful way, a stark reminder of shit he never had before, something fleeting.

And his cock was hard.

Goddamnit. Simon thought when you finally had free time that it wouldn’t be spent doing this shit. He thought he’d have you spread out on his bed, head between your thighs, you moaning, saying his name, giving commands, praising him, holding on to him—anything to calm the demons, sweetheart. Anything but this. If he wanted to be reprimanded, he’d talk to the old man. The hell are you doing? “You promised, Simon,” you reiterated. So sue me sat at the tip of his tongue but again, he’s a soldier where it counts. For the most part. Fuck you want him to say? Sorry?

You ran your fingers over his stubble and scar once more, trailed them down his chest, didn’t stop there, went lower, and… you fucked him over. Again. And his cock’s straining in his pants. Leaking. A goddamn faucet. You didn’t even cup it like you normally would, you fuckin’ tease. But Simon wasn’t stupid; he knew you were expecting an answer. He just didn’t have one to give. Or at the very least, one that wouldn’t piss you off. Fuckin’ cocktease.

But, just as soon as you touched him, you stopped, and Simon felt the chill from your absence and disappointment very deeply. His brows furrowed, his body became rigid with trepidation, and his demons came calling. No. No, wait, please—touch him again.

It hits him like a truck, this… feeling. Goes against his very being, against everything that was either beaten, trained into him, or taken away, and Simon hates it. Hates the push and pull of it all, that it disarms him, leaves him bare and vulnerable, and you don’t even blink twice at him.

He hates the fact that he loves it damn much. Poor bastard leans into it, too tired to fight any more, and just wants to fuckin’ crumble to pieces in your arms.

Christ, he needs you. Missed you, too. And he's sorry, he's so bloody sorry, sweetheart. He wasn’t supposed to relapse. Pride’s a fuckin’ bitch to swallow but he’d do that and more if it meant hearing your contented hum, feeling your fingers trail through his short-cropped hair or wrap around his cock, or… or him tasting you. Fuckin’ hell, he wants to taste you. Doesn’t want to remember the taste of shitty microwave dinners, nicotine, and cheap alcohol. He wants that fine dining, wants it so bad that he’s desperate, and while sorry’s not a word in his vocabulary—can’t be, not with the life he lives—Simon’ll say it. He’ll swallow his fuckin’ pride and say it, all for this, luv. All for you.

Just don’t take this away from him, sweetheart. Don’t deny him this. Don’t take your softness and comfort away and leave him.

Don’t let his demons get the best of him.

But again, he’s a soldier where it counts. For the most part; discipline’s a bitch sometimes, yeah? Or did it make the shitshow worse? Fuck if he knows. You’re still looking at him expectantly. Or you were. The silence was palpable but Simon would get his answers, and not even a moment later, you tsked in dissatisfaction. Your soldier felt the disappointment emanating off of you in droves, especially in the way that you pulled back even further from him. It caused that primal, yearning part of Simon to rage, his cards laid out, the fed up beast within that wanted to tell you that didn’t know shit about him and what he’s going through, wouldn’t ever know shit about him and what he’s going through, and would you stop fuckin’ teasing him and just… comfort him?! What the fuck is wrong with you?

He keeps it contained as best he can. Manages to ground himself with what little fortitude he has left. Simon looks at you now, perhaps a little expectant himself, brows too furrowed for your liking, dark eyes intense, tired, longing, and everything in-between, and you suppose you’ll give him grace. Grace illuminated by repressed contriteness. For now.

But even compassion has its limits, and Simon’s everything would remain untouched. He didn’t have to give you an answer, not this time. But you would give him yours. And so you do in your small, tight-lipped smile, the once-over you give Simon’s body, his cock especially, and the way you turn to leave just as soon as you arrived. You’re gracious enough to look back one more time, to see him staring at you intensely with something akin to… well, fuck, everything. A little anger, some disgruntlement, contentment at seeing you again, yearning… Good. He was on edge. As he should be.

“I’ll see you later,” were your light parting words but Simon heard your threat loud and clear.

I better not see this again and don’t you dare touch yourself.

Fuckin’ hell.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Ya'aburnee | r. r.

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Avenger!witch!reader

And I never got to tell you how I love the way my eyes make yours look green too

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Witchcraft

Author's Note: I combined @domoron's request with an idea I had so I hope you don't mind my dude. Also, there will probably be a part two (but this is NOT a series lol)

Talk to Me! | AO3

“This place has really gone to shit, huh?”

Bucky just sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, as she stands in the foyer of the common space. Yelena has her feet kicked up on the table, eyes drifting up from her tablet. Walker was passing through, but has stopped mid-step as Ava cocks her head to the side like she’s trying to understand. The only people who don’t seem to be mildly annoyed by her presence are Alexei, who is just barely containing his excitement, and Bob, who is looking between her and Bucky like he’s seeing two celebrities at once.

She shifts her weight onto one leg, crossing her arms over her chest as she takes in the motley crew before her. The New Avengers. The group that’s supposed to replace her and her friends and defend earth from whatever is thrown at them –and they all look like they haven’t slept properly in their entire life. 

There’s a file on every single one of them –and she’s read each one several times over. She’s known Bucky for several years now –went to war for him, even. The others she’s heard of in passing –Yelena and Alexei from Natasha; Walker from Sam. The other two –Ava, Bob –she doesn’t know outside of news reports and files. And even then, Bob’s file is the newest.

Hard to believe the guy sitting in the corner is some all powerful being who put New York into a blackout. But who is she to judge?

“Are you here to be helpful, or are you here to be an asshole?” Bucky asks, standing up finally. Four strides and he’s standing in front of her.

“I can do both,” she points out, uncrossing her arms and putting her hands on her hips. “But I’m sure that’s not what you want, is it?”

“I called you for a reason, Hex,” he reminds her, shaking his head. His voice is lower now, like he’s trying to keep the rest of his team from hearing. “You…you know what a team is able to do. We are not the Avengers. We’re not a team; we’re a time bomb.”

“You know,” she interrupts, but she’s softened some around the edges. “Dr. Banner said the exact same thing.”

*****

It’s hard to admit, but the New Avengers —this ragtag team of assholes —are a better team than the Avengers ever were. Not in the sense of power —no, but in the sense of camaraderie. They actually seem to care about one another; not just passing friends or colleagues. 

Yeah, the Avengers cared about each other. But not like this. Not like an actual family. 

It is a hard thing to realize; to accept that, while maybe her team was efficient and good at their jobs, they were only friends because they had to be. Sure, there were closer friendships separately —Nat and Clint, who had history already. She and Steve became close after Bucky almost killed them both years ago. But the Avengers were surface level friends.

Which is totally okay, at the end of the day. 

They did their jobs. They saved the universe. Then…they moved on. 

But the New Avengers…they care about each other. In a weird, almost sibling-like way. There’s a lot of arguing; a lot of yelling. But they frequently eat dinner together, at a table. Even when they're battered and bloody, they will sit down and eat whatever they manage to find. But together. 

The first time she’s invited to join “family time,” as Alexei calls it, she’s confused. He ushers her to the table and sits her down beside Bob, insisting that she has to join. No one else has joined yet, and Bob says they’re all usually late. 

“What’s going on? Mission briefing?” She asks, leaning over closer to Bob to whisper. 

He looks down at her, confused himself. “Oh, uh —we’re having dinner. It’s Walker’s turn to cook this week.”

“You…eat dinner together?” She pushes, and Bob seems like he’s enjoying that she’s confused. Maybe because he finally has something he can explain to her instead of the other way around. 

“Alexei makes us all eat together,” he explains, biting at his nails. “I…I like it. It feels nice, like for an hour we get to pretend we’re normal.”

“You do this every night?” 

He nods some, though he looks like he’s considering the answer. “Most nights, at least. Depends on what they’re doing, or if they’re here. Sometimes I don’t join, for uh…you know, reasons.”

She knows what he means. Even if she hadn’t read his file, she would be able to tell that Bob struggles with a lot. 

“I understand,” she offers, putting a hand on his arm. He flinches, and she pulls back almost immediately. But when he opens his eyes, he seems confused. “Are you okay?”

“Are…are you? You didn’t —did you see anything?”

“I saw you flinch, Bob —that’s all I saw.”

There’s almost immediate relief in his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders drops as he leans back in his chair. She’s about to ask him another question when the rest of the team find their way to the table and sit. 

Then it’s like she’s always been a part of the team. 

Maybe that’s the day they all just decided that she’s a New Avenger and an Avenger. Because after that dinner, she doesn’t leave. Her things have found their way to a room across from Bob’s and next to Yelena. She trains and spars and argues with everyone. 

The only thing she doesn’t do is go on missions. Mostly because Valentina insists she is not part of the team —but she’s also pretty sure Valentina thinks it’s bad for optics somehow. Of course, she doesn’t mind not going on missions. She stays back in the command center, manning the comms and computers. Bob often joins her, and she helps him learn how to operate the tools here. 

“This is…good. I get this,” he says one day, looking over a map with moving dots —the team —on it. “I’m able to help finally without…you know, getting in the way.”

“I doubt you’re in the way,” she reassures, sliding her chair over towards him, reaching across him to hit a button on the screen to send coordinates. “But I’m glad you enjoy learning.”

He hums a bit as she reaches across him. She notes how warm he is, even at a distance. 

“The target is about five miles ahead,” she reminds the team, pulling back but still next to him. Her eyes are on his screen. “There’s eight armored vehicles but there’s no one manning them.”

Bob is biting at his nails again, something she’s noticed he does a lot when he’s restless, and she instinctively reaches over to stop him. Gently, without even thinking about what she’s doing, she pulls his hand away and just holds it while she punches in the next set of coordinates. The only reason she realizes what she’s done is because Bob, instead of pulling away, squeezes her hand. That’s when she looks between their hands and him, and he gives her a timid smile. She returns the smile and the gesture, squeezing his hand back before Bucky is asking for her to map out an exit route. 

There’s a sigh of relief when they get out –back on the jet, back in the air. She shuts the comms off and leans back, staring at the screen for a moment. Then she turns to Bob.

“Wanna grab something to eat?”

He hesitates, like he thinks she’s talking to someone else, but then he nods. “Uh yeah –we can make something –,”

“I meant, like –do you want to go out and get something,” she corrects, standing up and stretching. “They won’t be back until close to two in the morning so we have some time to kill.”

Bob visibly blanches and she frowns some as he slowly stands. “I don’t…I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I haven’t really, you know, left the Tower since everything happened with…with him.”

“I trust you,” she promises, holding her hand out to him.

“I don’t,” he admits, but he takes her hand cautiously. “Can we…can we just pick up something and bring it back?”

It’s a step, she thinks. 

When they return to the Tower with two bags of Thai food (Bob insisted on getting everyone something, even if they had to reheat it), they sit on the floor in front of the window and eat in comfortable silence. She tries to think about the last time she’s just sat with someone like this, and it hurts to realize it’s been too long. Before the Avengers destroyed Sokkovia –god, more than ten years. When her grandmother was still alive and blessing the apartment with incense and cinnamon. Then she thinks about the last time she practiced properly, and that hurts just as much.

“I uh,” Bob suddenly says, looking out the window. Avoiding her gaze, like he might be in trouble when he finishes his sentence. “I read your file the other day.”

“I’ve read yours too,” she offers, like it’s a right of passage to read about your friends to get to know them better. “I didn’t know Valentina had my file.”

“She doesn’t,” he reassures, mixing his rice up carefully. “Bucky uh, gave it to me.”

“And what did you learn about me, Bob?”

“Are you…,” he hesitates, trying to figure out how to phrase it. It’s always a little funny, watching as people try to come to terms with what she is. Especially relatively normal people. “Are you really…like, a witch?”

“Does that scare you?” She asks, setting her food down. 

“I…I don’t know,” he admits, looking down at his hands for a moment. “I guess not? Should I be?”

Shaking her head, she lifts her hand and with a careful swish of her wrist, tendrils of light wrap around her hand. It’s a soft green, slithering over her fingers and up her arm. The Tower is dark enough that the magic illuminates their small space, and Bob’s eyes are wide as he follows each branch of the magic forms into another.

“Is this…do you do like –I don’t know, crystals and all that stuff?” He asks, though he’s reaching up like he’s going to touch the tendrils. 

She doesn’t stop him, tilting her head to the side as his fingers graze them. They wrap around him briefly –warm, soft, like a whisper against his skin –before retreating back to her. 

“I do,” she offers as the magic drifts away into the air, mist surrounding them before evaporating into the empty space. “I even have a broom.”

“Really?” He asks, eyes wide as he looks at her, back straight. 

“Not the way you think, but yes,” she laughs, leaning back. “Practicing witches use brooms for purification purposes –sweep away the negative energies. I’m sure I could fly on it, but that’s more because of me enchanting it and not the broom itself.”

“So you’re…you’re like actually a witch –not just, magic powers but like…the crystal stores and the candles and all that?”

“All the women in my family are witches,” she explains, holding out her hand again. The tendrils return, but this time they wrap around his hand and pull him gently towards her. “My grandmother raised me, and taught me. My mom passed before she could teach me anything. But yes, I practice the actual act of witchcraft while also actually having magic. No experiments or needles needed.”

His eyes light up with the emerald magic, watching as it tugs him into her orbit. Bob doesn’t fight it, too mesmerized by the feel of it against his skin. 

“That’s why I didn’t see anything when I touched you,” she explains, taking his hand in hers. The tendrils swirl around their hands, slinking up his sleeve and over his shoulders. He follows it carefully, like it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. Maybe it is. “I shield myself from the shadows –and that’s all your powers are. That’s all…he is. A shadow, trying to pry and consume.”

There’s a pause in the conversation as the tendrils slowly wrap around them entirely. Holding them together, like the magic itself is trying to bring them closer together. She’s got a good control over it, she always has, but sometimes it’s got a mind of its own. It’s hard to explain to people that her magic is a living thing, that it’s not just a part of her but it’s own entity. She just hosts it, and thanks it. But she thinks Bob would understand this better than anyone else, because he…he has his own entities. Perhaps he doesn’t like them, but he has them.

“Is…the shielding. Can you…can you teach someone that?” His voice is soft, a little shaky suddenly. But there’s a hopeful undertone as he meets her eyes. 

“I can,” she promises. And it is a promise. “Shielding is less magic and more intentions –and I can absolutely teach you if that’s what you want.”

“I…I would really like that.”

_______

Part two

_______

Bob Taglist: @ilovemarvel12 @k1ttyjuice @magikdarkholme @yesshewrites1 @evanbabybear @jaes-last-words @keira-kaz2y5

[berryfairyluvr]

Hi! I love your writing and would like to request Caleb and princess treatment please 💝

caleb and his princess treatment

pairings: bf!caleb/husband!caleb x fem!reader

warnings: suggestive, slight hinting of jealousy?, mentions of pregnancy

a/n: you’re very sweet, thank you for the request!! i hope it’s to your liking <3

As far back as you could remember, Caleb had always treated you with the utmost care, tending to your needs in any way he could.

During your secondary school years, Caleb decided he would make not only his own lunch, but yours too. You’d always been a picky eater and he couldn’t trust you to feed yourself if the cafeteria didn’t have enough foods that interested you. After finally moving in together as a couple— he picked up the old habit and began making your lunches for work too.

Growing up, you and Caleb often took the public transportation to and from school or town. On extra crowded days when you could only find one empty seat he’d always give it to you.

He had always been the looming overprotective presence in your life, like the time he told the entirety of the school basketball team that you were “off limits.”

And of course he picks you up from the Association in his sports car, leaning against the sleek vehicle with a cheesy grin and deep dimples, aviator shades perched on his nose. “Well hello girlfriend..” which later became his personal favorite, “Hello wife..” Followed by wrapping a lengthy arm around your waist the other around your shoulders, kissing your flushed face.

Insists on carrying you if your feet hurt, you’re sleepy, or it’s even remotely inconvenient for you to walk. Bonus: bridal style all the time.

He talks about you like you’re his entire world (because you are)—casually, without shame. “Yeah, my girlfriend made this.” “MC said that once, it stuck with me.” “She’s smarter than me, actually.”

You try to help him clean up or fix something? He gently turns you around, plants you on the nearest seat, and kisses your forehead. “Let me take care of it, baby.” “Uh Uh Pips, just sit here and look pretty for me, yeah?”

One of his love languages has always been acts of service— taking note of every little detail of your daily routines so he can find a way to make them easier for you without question.

His clothes? Pfft no, they’re our clothes. Whatever he owns he considers yours as well, emphasis on the clothing. He even buys things for himself based on how he pictures you in them eventually..

As cringey as it sounds, this man will hand feed you like a baby. Whether you’re working overtime from home or gaming he’s making sure you’re getting your meals.

Studying or working together proved to be challenging when he couldn’t tear his eyes off your figure or halt his lingering touches of affection which proved to be quite the distraction.

You're not just loved—you’re revered. He never lets you forget how special you are to him. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Let me prove it every day."

For some blissfully, wonderful, unknown reason, this man is always on his knees before you, for you. Whether it’s to tie your shoelaces or to praise his most favorite, sacred part of your- (whaaaatt ?? who said that ??)

You send ONE moderately risqué photo his way and he’s blowing up your phone like the dozens of ships he explodes with the fleet.

You knew him to be protective and caring before but when you’re expecting his first child it’s a different story. He spends the whole first month of your first trimester researching beneficial recipes for expecting mothers and their babies. “I’ll set aside time to meal prep each meal for you daily, it’ll be great Pips.”

When your newborn arrives, Caleb insists on waking up with you for each and every night shift of feedings and diaper changes. The dark circles under your eyes tug at his heart strings as he urges you back to bed as soon as you’re done with the baby. “My little copilot wants to be around mommy all the time too, hm?” He rocks your newborn back to sleep with a yawn of his own.

Gaming at his desk while you're dozing in and out of sleep from the couch he can't help but check on you, even if it's mid match. “You good, baby? Need anything? Water? Snack? A nap on me instead of the couch?” He's just glad to have you near and willing to do anything to keep you close.

He's always carrying your things for you, literally everything. When the two of you would walk home from school your backpack was always slung over his shoulder, it didn't matter that he had his own backpack and his basketball bag. That quickly became the norm for everything, shopping bags, leftovers from the hotpot place, your luggage when visiting him in Skyhaven.. The list goes on, you weren't allowed to carry anything on his watch. It was no use protesting anymore, you'd just be met with a dimpled smirk and kiss to your cheek.

Don't even try to leave or go to sleep without giving him his last kiss of the day. "EXCUSE ME. Where do you think you're going without my goodbye kiss?" He'd steal a few extra and say it was just for safety precautions.

He loves complimenting you all day, everyday. He loves the reactions you give him, would do just about anything for them.

read zayne’s version here

read sylus' version here

requests open ❤︎

[sunny-daze-days]

Also please do not complain to your children about their struggle to do chores or that don't do chores if you've never shown them how to do those chores in the first place. Even worse if you actively discourage your kids from doing them

I'm 20 fucking years old and I cannot tell you how many times my mom has complained to me about how she's the only one that does anything around the house when she has:

1 . Never taken the initiative to teach us how to do anything around the house and just expects us to know how to do them. Including but not limited to: washing clothes, washing dishes, cleaning toilets/the bathroom, mopping, how often to wash bedding, etc. I don't even know how to cook because she's never taught me how

2. Gets mad at us when we do chores incorrectly even though she's never taught us how and takes over if we struggle even a little. This does not help us. Let us struggle! Let us fuck it up!

And 3. Has never taught us how often to clean or modeled any cleaning routines or any other related stuff.

And it's not just chores she hasn't taught us how to do. She hasn't taught me how to apply for jobs, do taxes, mow the lawn, fix household issues, how to sew (even if she says she thinks everyone should have a sewing kit), how to make a dr.'s appointment, etc.

And her excuse for ALL of this is "well you never wanted to learn" and it's like YEAH NO SHIT. I was a CHILD and no CHILD is gonna wanna learn how to do shit and it's YOUR JOB as a parent to teach them how to do shit. And even now when i want to learn she doesnt teach me! My GIRLFRIEND had to be the one to teach me how to use a washer and dryer for my clothes and when to wash my bedding.

And she turns around and calls me pathetic for not knowing how to do anything for myself. All. The. Time. My mother constantly jokes about how I don't have common sense but the reason these things are "common sense" is because normal parents teach their fucking kids how to do common household and life things and I was never taught how!

Teach your kids how to do shit and teach them how to do it correctly when they fuck it up but LET THEM DO IT. Otherwise your kid is going to struggle with chores because they think they're not good enough at it or they don't know how to do them or they feel worthless for not being able to do those things.

I feel pathetic for not being able to do it because I don't know how and other people look at me crazy or like I'm some pitiful, stupid thing because I ask others how to do common sense things. Do not be like my mom because all you'll be doing is setting your kids up for failure or at the very least giving your kid a pathological avoidance of doing chores and life skills themselves.

Do not for the love of God do this to your children. Sincerely from one fucked up adult that has no idea how to mop a floor or when to wash my sheets.

And to the people who grew up with this type of parenting: I'm so sorry. But you can learn how to do chores, and you are not pathetic for not knowing how to do things other people do even if it's "common sense". Don't worry if you mess up at first that's just part of the process. I can guarantee you'll get better at the things you try to do.

for the love of god, do not use chores to punish your kids!!!! it's just going to make them struggle deeply to keep their houses tidy as adults since you made them associate necessary chores with punishment and suffering, and it's going to take years of therapy to undo. don't use chores as punishments!!!

[bitters-n-sweets]

what survived the fire pt. 2 — jack abbot x fem!reader The ghost of Jack's past is alive, standing right in front of him, and now comes the question, what's next?

warnings: nothing 18+, mentions of violence, blood, su1c1d4l tendencies, etc, minors go away | this is the last part masterlist | part one

Jack thinks it might be the end of him. His ears are ringing, he's trying to even his breathing, and you keep walking closer. He can't believe his eyes.

"You..." Jack can't muster up the words. He wants to touch you, make sure you're real, but he's not sure he's ready for that.

You swallow, feeling your throat becoming dry. He looks tired, stressed, he doesn't quite look like himself, at least the version of him you remember.

"They told me you didn't make it." You say, "I didn't know—"

"They told me you went missing." He chokes, "...Presumed dead."

Gloria steps in like a lifeline, though neither of you can look away from each other. "Let’s give you two a minute. Consult room’s open."

Jack steps forward first, slow and unsure, raising a trembling hand to touch your arm. He lets out a breath he doesn't realize he's been holding.

You place your hand on top of his, and you feel like you might break.

"Can I— Can I hold you?" He asks shakily.

You nod silently and he pulls you to his embrace.

"You’re real," he murmurs into your shoulder. "Jesus, you’re real."

You nod again, unable to form words, barely holding it together as you clutch his scrub top, grounding yourself in his warmth.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I should’ve looked harder. I should’ve—"

"Jack." You pull back just enough to look at him. Your hands are on his face now, wiping his tears. "It's not your fault. We're both alive now, so... let's take it from here, yeah?"

He nods, burying himself into your neck again.

Once you're both calm and reality settles, you and Jack sink to the floor of the consult room. Shoulder to shoulder, backs against the wall—like behind the supply tent all those nights ago. Only this time, he's holding your hand like his life depended on it.

"How did you..." He stops, afraid to finish the question.

"There was a second explosion." You tell him. "Some time after you were air lifted. I couldn't find other survivors so I ran and lost my comms, didn't have supplies. Got picked up by a group that didn’t want to let me go."

His grip tightens. "Jesus."

"They didn’t hurt me," you say quickly, seeing the panic spark in his eyes. "They needed a medic. That’s all. I patched up a few of their guys and waited for a window to get out. It took about a month."

"They just—what? Kept you like a prisoner?"

You shrug lightly. "I had a roof. No restraints. The food was terrible, but not any better than rations. They weren’t monsters. Just scared soldiers trying to survive. I was useful, so they didn’t kill me. It wasn't that bad."

"That’s your bar for ‘not that bad’?" he says, voice tight.

You offer a tired smile. "At least I didn’t get tortured."

Jack shakes his head and laughs gently. "You haven’t changed."

You lean your head against his shoulder. "You know, even though they told me you were gone, I kept telling myself you were alive somewhere."

Jack lets you keep going.

"I used to imagine you had your own farm. With a wife, a kid... a dog." You laugh softly at yourself. "Made it all up in my head. Figured that was easier than picturing you dead. That way, you got to be happy. Even if I wasn’t in it."

"—Unless you do have a wife, a kid, and a farm of your own now." You glance at him, suddenly self-conscious. "I just realized that could actually be true."

Jack chuckles, putting his arm around you. "Nah. Not much has changed. Still here in the ER, still on therapy, still trying to fix myself."

"And you?" Jack asks, hesitant. "Do you— are you seeing anyone?"

You shake your head and look up at him. "So..."

He meets your eyes.

"You still up for that coffee?" you ask, hopeful.

Jack doesn’t even hesitate. "Yeah. More than ever."

You're on the way to his place after the shift. Though usually shifts last long and seem endless, this time, Jack didn't complain because you were shadowing him.

With coffee in your hands, you step into his apartment.

"Make yourself at home," He says, taking your jacket and hanging it.

You both sit on his couch and sigh, letting the weight of the day slip away.

"How was your first shift?" He asks.

"Great." You say, "Working with you again is nice. I missed it."

"Yeah," he murmurs, "me too."

For a moment, there's only the quiet hum of his apartment, the city outside muffled by thick windows. You sip your coffee and glance around—some framed photos on the wall, a stack of medical journals on the table, a worn throw blanket slung over the back of the couch. It’s lived-in, but quiet. Like him.

"This place screams you." You comment.

Jack laughs lightly. "You gave me a whole farm and a family in your head. I think I’m underachieving now."

You nudge his knee with yours. "Well I think that was just my— I don't know, I was trying to make myself feel better."

You put your coffee down and put your hand on his, your tone more serious now. "I didn’t think I’d get to see you again. The last time I saw you, I had your blood on my hands. On my shirt. Everything."

You take a deep breath. "By the time I got out and they told me you didn't make it... I couldn't wash that shirt. I kept it with me for... I don't know for how long. But it was the last piece of you I had with me, and I couldn't bear losing it."

"Kinda insane, actually." You laugh it off.

Jack's jaw tenses. He knows this. He's been through it. All the death, the blood, the surviving, the guilt, he's been through it all.

"I still struggle to sleep on a comfortable bed sometimes." Jack admits. "One time, I was in a hospital bed, drugged up, and I couldn't rest. I could feel how comfortable the sheets were, and for some reason, it gave me a panic attack. I ripped out my IV, tried to get off the bed, ended up on the floor just gasping like a dying animal."

You squeeze his hand.

"The nurse came in, thought I was coding. Took five people to get me calm again. They kept asking what was wrong, but I couldn’t explain it. How do you tell someone you feel safer lying on dirt?"

He turns to look at you then, finally, really meeting your eyes.

"So no," he says softly. "You’re not crazy. Or alone."

You blink quickly, but the tears still fall.

"Thank you," you whisper.

Jack doesn’t say anything back. He just reaches over and pulls you to him.

"I guess therapy has been really helping, huh?" You chuckle.

"I'm getting better." He smiles.

"Hey, um," You say, rummaging through your pocket. "Remember what you said about me wanting to be a writer?"

Jack sits up. "Yeah. I said you should go for it. And that I'd be the first to read it."

You chuckle nervously, pulling out a folded piece of paper. It's worn, edges soft with age, the creases smoothed over and reopened a hundred times. "When I was still out there... I started writing. I'm working on the draft now, but—this—this was the first thing I ever wrote. I kept it with me."

Jack straightens, his expression softening. He takes the paper from your hand like it’s something fragile.

I keep thinking about his hands. Not the way they looked, but the way they moved—calm, steady, like he could pull order from chaos. He used to tease me when I overpacked my kit and always gave away the last protein bar to someone else. I don’t know if he’s alive, but I still see him when I close my eyes. Not like a ghost. More like a lighthouse. Something steady I keep walking toward, even when everything else is dark. If I ever get out of this, I hope he knows he was the good part. The part that made me believe I could still be human after all of this.

When he finally looks at you, his voice is low, almost a whisper.

"You wrote this… about me?"

You nod, eyes flicking away for just a second before meeting his gaze again. "What do you think?"

Jack laughs softly, then his forehead touches yours, eyes shut, lips close. He doesn’t kiss you — not yet. But it’s there, promised in the way his hands cradle your face like he’s finally letting himself want.

"I think I'm not letting you go."

[zorostitties]

Intertwined; 4

⤕ Luffy and you were like two sides of the same coin: opposites in every way, but similar in what mattered the most. Tied by a vow made with the purity of a child's heart, life keeps trying to tear you apart - but the vow that intertwined your destinies would not be broken so easily. Or, Luffy promised to marry you someday when you were kids. This is how he keeps his promise.

pairing: monkey d. luffy x (f) reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, arranged marriage, fluff, angst, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, toxic family relationships, death/grief, when i say slow burn i mean it

rating: 18+

word count: 11k oof

A/N: HELLO Y'ALL!! A little something I haven't explained yet - this story will be divided in 4 sections/parts. Part 1 which covered their childhood ends with this chapter. So next chapter, we're setting sail to pre timeskip times... where love will actually start blossoming 🤭 Also, I finally made a playlist for Intertwined!! I listen to these songs a lot while writing. I know these songs might be too upbeat or random considering how fucked up MC's life is all the time, but I couldn't make a SAD playlist for a fic involving mr. JOYboy himself 😭 Anyways!! Enjoy <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

➛ 11

You were eleven years old the first time you almost died during a commission.

The target was the leader of a criminal organization. They weren’t too well known, or too respected, or too powerful, but had caused enough trouble that someone was willing to commission his death. Boss Hamazaki was his name. He wasn’t a fighter. He didn’t have a Devil Fruit ability or any combat skills.

But he had bodyguards.

And you underestimated them.

That was a deadly mistake. Up until then, you hadn’t really struggled; your targets were like Boss Hamazaki, had no significant skills. You’d usually camp around them for a while, wait until they were alone, strike too fast for them to understand what was happening… and flee with a guaranteed payment. Truth is – you were an assassin, not a fighter. Not yet.

So when one of his bodyguards noticed your presence and stormed into the room…

Well.

Oops.

You got shot.

You had time to move slightly away from the trajectory of the bullet, but not fast enough to completely miss it. The projectile pierced your stomach. Adrenaline assured you to not feel immediate pain when it hit, so you managed to get a certified kill anyway. But… yeah. It hurt a lot. And bled. And you’d definitely had passed away if Landon wasn’t around to proceed with the first aids.

It sucked. Not because of, you know, the fact that you almost died – but because you didn’t remember seeing Crowley get seriously injured like that. Which meant he had an advantage over you.

And you hated it.

Competition within the family was highly stimulated. It was part of the tradition after all. The better assassin got a bigger percentage of the payments, more prestige, more privileges… and at the end, the better assassin would become the head of the family. The one to command Scarpia’s future and businesses wasn’t the oldest, but the best.

It made a lot of sense, since Urso – the oldest – was a useless. He had no ambition at all; to make him the head of the family would be an abysmal mistake.

So it was up to the rest of you to fight for more recognition.

Except… the fact that you were betrothed to Vinsmoke Ichiji already excluded you from the game, since you’d leave the family sooner or later; you’d have to carry your future husband’s last name.

Or, at least, Crowley thought so. He concluded that you were no competition – which meant you’d have to prove him wrong again, and again, and again, as many times as necessary, until he’d finally shut the fuck up.

The shot sent you a few points back in the board, though. It made you so angry at yourself that you couldn’t even turn that half of your brain off.

It was unbearably hot for some reason – and you should already be used to the heat and humidity of Mt. Colubo’s forest, but sometimes it was still too much. You sat on a big chopped log with your legs crossed under the shadow of a tall tree, scribbling furiously and biting the inside of your cheek. How could you better Crowley? What was his main technique at the moment? What was his best skill? What was his current kill count?

Luffy’s screams and grunts of effort were just background noise.

“Gomu Gomu no… Pistol!!”

God. How many times had he repeated that? You lifted your eyes momentarily to watch Luffy stretch his arm and try to punch a boulder approximately ten meters away from where he stood – but, as you had noticed, he didn’t quite control the stretching of his members. It seemed that they had a tension limit, like a regular rubber band. It made you wonder for a moment how far Luffy could stretch without ripping off…

Luffy fell back on the grass and groaned. He took two seconds to get up again and get in position again, eyes tightened.

“Gomu Gomu no…”

“Pistooool,” you said absently under your breath with him, with much less excitement. Your eyes glued back to the sketchbook on your lap. The snapping sound and his loud groan indicated he had failed again.

You already knew what was coming before he even did it.

“Heeeey! Four Eyes, you’re being boring! Get up and come train with me!”

You didn’t bother looking up.

“I already said I can’t move that much.”

It wasn’t a lie. It had been a month since the shot; you were still in the process of recovery. Usually, the Scarpia children wouldn’t have this much time to get a full recovery… but your parents wanted to be sure that you’d always be the healthiest so you could reproduce in the future.

Ew.

Luffy was crouched down in front of you in a second.

He pouted angrily. He was covered in sweat, the hem of his yellow tank top was drenched. Luffy didn’t look tired despite the fact he’d been training his attack since early in the morning.

“Boooo. Weakling. You’re a weakling, that’s what you are.” He poked your sides and your arms and your cheek repeatedly to call your attention. “Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Who the hell gets hurt like that? You’re just being dramatic.”

“If you poke me again I’ll crack your skull open.”

“Weeeeak.”

He tried to stick his finger in your nostril.

You flipped.

And then Luffy was running away from you, laughing hysterically, while you chased him around the forest with fire steaming from your eyes.

Luffy always got what he wanted one way or another – usually by being terribly annoying. The fact that you fell for it too was a bit embarrassing… but you ended up having fun anyway, so most times you let it slide. Not always though. He tried to stick his finger in your nose. He had to pay.

That is – until an agonizing twinge in your stomach made you halt.

You groaned, gripping your shirt, and leaned on a tree. Crap, I shouldn’t have moved so much.

The sound of Luffy’s sandals skidding on dirt floor echoed. He wasn’t laughing anymore. Taptaptaptaptap. He ran back to where you were.

“Hey– what happened?!”

“I told you that I’m hurt,” you said between gritted teeth.

“Eh… Hm…”

It looked like Luffy didn’t really know what to do at first, and he showed a rare expression: guilt. The straw hat boy put your arm over his shoulders and helped you walk back to that log you were sitting previously.

“D’you need something? D’you want water? You wanna eat? There’s bananas there– I can grab some–“

“N-No. I’ll be fine.” But damn, that hurt real bad. It seemed that your guts were rearranging in a strange way.

You were probably making a funny expression, because Luffy was starting to get pale.

“No, you’re not okay. Stay right here, aight? I’ll– I’ll call Ace–“

You grabbed his wrist firmly.

“I said I’ll be fine.” You grunted again.

You closed your eyes momentarily.

Luffy watched you in silence – which was a bit of a miracle.

The pain. The pain.

That place in your stomach. On the left side.

Does it have anything to do with the shot?

No. It’s the abdomen. It’s the muscle. Muscle strain. Hurts bad. But not serious.

So stop aching. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Your features softened. The pain was gone.

You took a deep breath and stretched your arms.

When you opened your eyes, Luffy was staring at you… very confused.

“So, uh… what just happened here?”

“I got better.”

“...I’m not that smart, but I don’t think that’s how things work.” He scratched his head. “You just made the pain go away?”

“Kinda.”

“How?”

Oops.

You weren’t supposed to tell him that.

Scarpia secret training. All that bullshit. You were so used to this technique that it didn’t even feel like a technique anymore; one of the earliest teachings, something each of you were trained to do the moment you learned to walk. You sincerely forgot this wasn’t normal… and most importantly, you forgot this was secret.

But Luffy already knew your secrets… so who cared?

You held your chin and tightened your eyes at him.

“...I think it’d be useful for you, to be honest. You don’t really control your stretching, do you?”

Luffy sat on the grass and crossed his legs. It was a bit funny, how you were sitting on the log and him on the ground, almost like a teacher and a student. It was also a bit strange how interested he got. Despite his never ending playfulness, Luffy took his training seriously.

“I control it. Until I don’t.” He grabbed his own pointer finger and stretched it until the tension limit, as if to illustrate. “How can this thing be useful?”

You hesitated for a moment. Your father’s voice echoed in your mind… The true jewel of the Scarpia family is our training. That is our advantage against the world, and that is why it must be excelled and kept in secret–

Ugh. Shut up. I don’t caaaaare.

“In my family, we call it Heavenly Control.” You started in a quiet voice. Again, unexpectedly, Luffy was paying attention. Had he ever sat down and payed attention in silence to anything before? “Like the name says… it’s the ability to be in absolute control over every layer of your body. Blood, muscle, bones… even feelings. You always know what’s going on inside of you, you’re always aware, therefore you can control it. And… you can get some results… like this.”

You made your nails grow and sharpen like blades.

Luffy’s eyes widened.

“Woooooah! That’s sick! I thought you weren’t a Devil Fruit user!”

“I’m not. It’s Heavenly Con– were you even paying attention to what I just said?!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shook his hand dismissively. “So you can sharpen nails and make pain go away. How could this help me?”

“If you had absolute control over your body, you could stretch however you wanted. Even longer than you do now. Past the tension limit.”

“Past the what?”

“Past this.” You pinched his cheek and pulled it. Luffy groaned. You pulled and pulled and pulled until the skin visibly strained and you had to let go with a loud snap.

“Oooh.” He said while caressing his cheek.

“Also, it can be useful in battle. You can turn your emotions off to fight better.”

Luffy frowned and crossed his arms. “Uh… why would I do that?”

“Because it’s useful?”

“But it’s not fun.” He opened a mischievous smile. “When I find a strong beast, it’s fun to feel your heart pumping and your legs getting cold. It’s the best part!”

Oh.

You never thought of things this way. But, well… Luffy didn’t fight for money. When you had millions of berries at stake, you didn’t have time to have fun like that.

Luffy rubbed his hands excitedly. “But this sounds cool! How do I learn it?”

It was your turn to scratch your head hesitantly. “...I don’t know if you’ll want to learn it. Involves a lot of meditation.”

“And how’s it?”

“You sit still for a loooong time.”

Luffy scowled as if he had sucked on a very sour lemon. “Boooring.”

“Yeah.”

“But there’s no other way, right? So, come on! Teach me.” He punched his own palm and opened a determined smile. “I have to become stronger!”

There it was again. The way Luffy managed to surprise you. He hated anything boring, he despised being still in the same spot for more than two minutes… but he took his training seriously. More than anyone you knew. More than you, even.

It made you want to help him.

You smiled.

“Okay. But I don’t wanna hear complaints, got it?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Let’s go!”

He did, in fact, complain a lot.

Not that you weren’t expecting him not to. He, in fact, seemed unable to sit still for more than five minutes. Anything and everything caught his attention – a bug, the wind, a leaf, a fart that would therefore break your focus and you’d have to smack him while he giggled.

You taught him the basis of the technique. Three days you had – and three days you spent trying to teach him to the farthest length of your patience. To be fair, there were moments when he actually seemed focused in the meditation process… the longest he stayed still was ten minutes. A miracle!

There’s no way he’d learn everything in three days, of course. Heavenly Control could take years to be mastered. You only did it so easily because you had been trained to do it at a very, very young age.

It was the last day of your stay when you learned once and for all that Luffy was not normal.

Not that you didn’t know it already to some extent. He wasn’t a normal boy. He lived in the woods being raised by a group of criminals. He killed giant beasts for dinner. Him and his brother invaded High Town weekly to steal and fight adults just because it was fun. No, Luffy was not a normal boy.

But you hadn’t noticed his true abnormality until that afternoon.

Luffy was training as always. You sat on that same log and made a last sketch before leaving – a green ladybug! –; the tiny insect walked slowly on the edge of the page. You did your best to not disturb it so it wouldn’t fly away.

Luffy screamed the name of his attack as always.

You decided to lift your gaze to him for some reason. Luffy rotated his right arm many times, his fist tightened.

“Gomu Gomu no…”

He took impulse and launched his arm.

“...Pistoool!”

It stretched. And stretched. And stretched.

Your eyes widened slowly.

It stretched more.

It stretched past the tension limit.

His fist hit the boulder this time – it didn’t destroy it, just cracking the tip of the rock. But that was the least of it.

His arm retracted with a sonorous snap. Luffy grinned and jumped.

“Yahoooo! I did it! Did you see that, Four Eyes?! I did it!”

Your jaw was on the floor.

To Luffy, he had just landed a punch on a target he wanted.

But you understood the gravity of what had just happened.

A target approximately ten meters away from where he stood. A distance he couldn’t reach only a few days before. A stretch he couldn’t quite control then.

He did it now – and it wasn’t a strike of luck. It had intent. It was a calculated blow. It… It was controlled.

Luffy mastered a secret technique from the Scarpia Family in three days without even practicing much. A technique you took years to truly master.

That afternoon, you saw the shadow of what Luffy was going to become for the first time.

I’m gonna be the King of the Pirates. I’ll be the most free. I’ll find the One Piece.

He repeated that over and over and over again. Any adult would judge it as the delusions of a kid that dreamed too much. And… well, at first, you thought he was being delusional too. You knew the seas; you belonged to the New World. Millions and millions set sail in the hopes of finding the One Piece. How many failed? How many had their hopes ruthlessly crushed when they crossed the Red Line and realized that they were just grains of sand against true pirates? How many didn’t have the will to continue? To persist?

But Luffy was there. Laughing and doing cartwheels to celebrate. The boy from the middle of nowhere who just mastered Heavenly Control without much effort in three days.

Luffy was going to become a beast.

You knew it.

You believed in it.

You mirrored his smile and clapped, making Luffy’s chest fill with pride. Your friend’s future was going to be wonderful.

You couldn’t wait to witness it.

➛ 12

You needed a weapon.

It’s something you didn’t think you’d need. Your own body and strikes were enough since you started your career. Sure, you received formal training on many types of weapons: swords (though they weren’t really your thing), daggers (these were useful sometimes), guns (not really your style)… you liked to work with your bare hands, however.

This opinion changed drastically over the past year.

Your commissions weren’t that easy anymore. Your success rate was still 100%. Which meant your prestige was increasing. Which meant your percentage in payments increased, too. Which meant commissioners were starting to book you specifically.

The White Wolf is how you were being called by some.

Which meant you were being assigned with less commissions, but more difficult targets.

Actual fighters. Devil Fruit users. Just attacking them by surprise wasn’t enough. They could defend themselves and fight back.

Just your body wouldn’t do; even Heavenly Control and its hardening technique wasn’t enough. You were still too short and too weak against adults that actually knew how to fight.

So, yeah. You needed a weapon. But which?

The Scarpia arsenal was a gigantic bunker with every weapon one could think of – all pristine clean, being kept inside glass cases, perfectly organized, not a grain of dust in sight. Swords. Sabers. Katanas. Spears. Daggers. Guns. Cannons. New model weapons stolen directly from Marineford. Paradise for people in the wrong side of life.

None of that interested you.

The twins fought with daggers. Saqr was becoming a sniper – and a good one at that. Crowley chose a scythe as his weapon (soooo edgy and forced, oh my God). Urso used brass knuckles.

What weapon could be useful to you?

One that could be used for both melee and ranged combat. You weren’t that tall compared to your brothers; you needed something that could be protective as well… but also fast. What could fulfill all of those needs?

To protect and attack… Close and distant… Fast and light…

Hmm…

...You thought of Luffy for some reason.

His stretching. The way he could whip his limbs around. He could fight from close up or from a distance.

...Oh.

You took a tiny Den Den Mushi from inside your jacket and dialed.

“Yes, Young Mistress?” Landon’s voice answered promptly.

“I need a chain prototype. Make it with Seastone. As light and thin as possible.”

“How many meters?”

“Let’s start with three.”

“As you wish, Young Mistress.”

It took four prototypes to get to the perfect weapon.

The chain was light; only four centimeters in diameter, but that was thick enough to actually hurt when a blow successfully hit. Forged in a mix of Seastone and iron: the iron for malleability, the Seastone for hardness. At the tip of the chain, there was a spiked ball the size of an apple to add weight and balance. It was a shiny silver because you liked pristine things.

It took a week to master its use.

You swung the chain around like a whip. Each fast whiplash was a guaranteed wound. You could swirl the chain around your body and it’d act as a shield, rebounding any projectile or attack. The spiked Seastone ball could be used for heavier blows. You had already learned how to wrap it around objects to pull them, to use each end in different situations. And you could just wrap it around your hip to make it a cute belt when you weren’t using it.

Just perfect.

You cleaned the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, recovering your breath. Chunks of destroyed training dolls were scattered over the entire floor. You looked down at the chain resting in your hands; now, they’d have to be covered in gloves all the time to avoid bruises. Yes, this prototype was perfect. So easy to use, so durable… the engineers did a great job.

You noticed Saqr and Crowley giving quick glances at you. You loathed the fact that they were training at the same time, though all of you refused to talk to each other. You knew they were assessing your abilities, probably finding ways to defeat you. But… you also knew that they had already admitted to themselves that this weapon was very effective, otherwise they would’ve mocked already.

The heavy doors of the bunker opened behind you.

It’s funny how you recognized your father’s presence without even seeing him. He was silent. His steps never made any sound regardless of how heavy or tall he was. And yet, whenever he entered the same space as you, immediate chills would run your spine.

You turned around and straightened your back. Saqr and Crowley did as well.

“Father.”

He walked straight towards you with his hands behind his back. His suit, always perfectly ironed. His beard, always flawlessly trimmed. His expression… always blank.

Drachen looked at the destroyed dolls on the floor. The chain in your hands.

For a second, you thought he’d mention your efforts. Your new weapon. Your progress. A compliment would be too much… a simple acknowledgment would be enough. A hint that what you did was being seen.

What left his mouth wasn’t disapproval either – and yet, it was so abysmal that you’d rather have him cuss you out.

“Did you have your first period?”

You froze.

It was like someone dropped ten tons over your shoulders. You felt pressure from all sides, crushing your body as if you were in the depths of the sea. Your face and neck burned.

Why… How…?

Three days ago.

You woke up to see blood in your panties. It’s not like you didn’t know what that was; and yet, it felt strange. It felt disgusting. It felt embarrassing. You didn’t tell your mother because you thought she wouldn’t care. You asked your maid for a pack of pads, but you were too embarrassed to ask her how to use it, though you quickly found out by yourself. You used Heavenly Control to try to ignore the cramps. You tried not to walk like a penguin every time you felt the awful sensation of a liquid dripping from your insides with no control over it. You obsessed over your hygiene, scared that anyone else could feel the smell of that.

It was all new and strange and so so gross.

Why is he asking me about that?!

How did he even know? The maid told him? But– But why him? He was your father. He was a man. You didn’t have the courage to tell mother about it; you could barely look at that maid in the eye. So… why was he…?! Of all people?!

In front of Saqr and Crowley?!

You couldn’t look at him anymore.

You just nodded.

Drachen crossed his arms.

“Go see the doctor today. We need to know if your reproductive system is healthy. Vinsmoke Judge wants reports on your health.” Silence. “Did I make myself clear?”

“Y-Yes. Yes, father.”

He nodded, turned around and left.

You just… stood there.

It’s like your body suddenly weighed too much to be moved. Like your ears were muffled.

You looked down at the chain, the weapon you had mastered so fast. The weapon you were proud of.

It was all useless in the end, wasn’t it?

Every effort. Every successful commission. Every training.

All that mattered was if your ovaries and uterus were working.

Your brothers were laughing hysterically.

They found a quick way to defeat you, after all.

➛ 13

Luffy’s straw hat didn’t look too big for his head anymore.

And he didn’t sound like a baby duck anymore, either. Which was… weird. Every time you visited, you could pin point the differences in his and Ace’s appearances, since people can change a lot in a whole year. Ace looked completely different from the boy you met five years ago. Well, he didn’t look like a boy, quite frankly. He got super tall of sudden. And muscular. And his voice got deep. And… well, he wasn’t a prick anymore, which was nice. He got used – unbothered – by your presence on your third visit (thank God; you were already so emotionally wrecked due to the engagement back then, if he decided to be an asshole, you’d have killed him).

Luffy still looked like a boy. But he was… changing.

He still was a solid five centimeters shorter than you, though, which made you happy for some reason.

You looked at him from over the sketchbook and sent him a challenging smile. “I’m almost finished!”

Luffy bit his tongue, his brows furrowed in a focused expression, while he scribbled something in his own piece of paper. “I’m almost finished, too!”

He was obviously lying.

Luffy always repeated that your drawings were good, but his were sooo much better – though he had never showed any. So you decided to challenge him: you’d have to sketch each other in five minutes. The best drawing would win. You sat in front of each other with a sketchbook over each other’s legs.

You still had a minute. The pencil slipped rapidly over the sheet to complete the details in his hair. The black strands of hair looked a little longer than the last time you saw him. Was it on purpose, or he just forgot to cut his hair? Could very well be the latter. His face… it wasn’t that round anymore, either. His chin looked more pointed. His cheeks, less chubby; his collarbones, more prominent.

You just had to add the scar under his left eye and you’d be done. You peeked at him one last time.

He was biting the tip of his pencil in a focused expression while analyzing his own sketch.

And for the first time in your life, a word popped up in your head.

Cute.

Your eyes immediately darted down again.

Woah woah woah. What the hell?!

The watch on your wrist marked the fifth minute.

“Time’s up!” You yelled. “Drop your pencil!”

Your heart racing is just because you’re excited about the competition. That’s all. Yeah.

“I’m sooo sure mine is better than yours.” Luffy grinned mischievously. “Ace! C’mere!”

The oldest brother appeared from around the corner, absently munching an apple. His hair was a mess. Had he been sleeping the whole afternoon?

“Y’all done?” He asked with little interest.

“Yeah. Be our judge.” You said, holding the sketchbook against your chest. “Me first. Ready?”

You turned the sketchbook around – and it was satisfying to see their jaws drop. Even disinterested Ace.

“It looks great!” Luffy exclaimed. Yeah, of course it did – even if you only had five minutes. A very realistic portrait of him.

“Yo, can you draw me like that later?” Ace asked with his mouth full.

“For a grand.” He gasped and frowned.

“Mercenary.”

“Alright, alright. My turn!” Luffy smiled and straightened his back. “Get ready!”

He showed his paper sheet proudly.

You and Ace stared at it in silence for some seconds. Then–

Ace cackled.

“What the–?!” You looked from the paper to his face angrily. “It doesn’t look like me!”

“’Course it does! It’s exactly like you!”

You almost couldn’t believe that.

Luffy drew a dog with round glasses and a skirt. Or it looked like a dog, but it was supposed to be a wolf… drew by a five year old. This? Seriously? And he kept bragging of how much better of an artist he was?!

Ace patted Luffy’s back while still laughing. “You won, Luffy!”

“How?! That’s not fair! You’re just saying that because he’s your brother!”

“Just accept defeat already, Four Eyes.” Luffy giggled mischievously. “I draw muuuch better than you.”

You wanted to punch the both of them.

Why did you even bother?

You already knew the forest well at that point.

It was funny, because you only visited once a year for a few days… but these trees, these trails were already so familiar. They felt like home much more than your actual home… though, being honest, you didn’t really have a home by then – not one that felt like it.

You avoided being at the Scarpia Island as much as possible. The family had many houses and hiding places around the world. You purposefully decided to stay as close to the East Blue as possible when you weren’t working, away from the New World, especially during the months that preceded your birthday; that way, you’d make it to Goa Island quicker. The rest of the year… you’d still avoid Scarpia Island like the plague. There was no reason to stay there if you didn’t have to be there.

Sometimes, you thought of maybe making Goa Island your own hiding place so you’d have an excuse to visit more often. But… no, that’d be too risky. Would put too many question marks over the place. Goa was far from anywhere important. They’d start asking why would you chose to be there. And Landon… he never left you alone for a second. He’d report back to your parents the second he found out about your friends.

So… this was as far as you could go – even if you felt that a week wasn’t nearly enough.

How many sketchbooks had you already filled? Pages and pages of insects, animals and even some plants. Goa Island always had something interesting to offer. It felt as if you could spend a lifetime there and it wouldn’t be enough to capture all of its beauty. They even had this strange bee species that you didn’t find in your Insect Encyclopedia. Maybe your book was outdated? Or have you discovered a new bee species–?

“Ooooi, Wolfie!”

You frowned and looked up.

As Luffy was taking a nap, you decided to wander into the forest alone to see if the beehive was still in the same place you found last time. Coincidentally, the beehive was near an area you usually avoided since that thing happened years ago.

So it was definitely surprising to look up and see Ace waving at you from the tree house he forbid you from getting near.

Huh… why was he waving? Was he rubbing in your face that you couldn’t climb up?

“Ain’t you curious to know what the view looks like?!”

You stared up in shock.

“...You serious?!”

“Of course I’m serious.” It didn’t look like he was trying to prank you. He gesticulated in a welcoming way. “Come up!”

He didn’t need to say it twice.

You immediately ran to climb the stairs. They looked pretty unsafe, but you didn’t care. Oh, it was impossible to not feel all giddy. If you said you had no interest in seeing it you’d be lying; you even thought of visiting the place in secret, but that’d just be rude.

After meters and meters of climbing one of Mt. Colubo’s giant trees, you were finally there.

The structure was circular, completely made of wood. Lime already covered part of the walls and roof; there were some holes on the floor. The wooden boards creaked beneath your feet. By the height of the ceiling, it was clearly made for kids – Ace had to lower his head to stand there. He leaned on the “balcony” with a relaxed expression; wind played with his dark locks.

You approached him. There was an old wooden helm by his side. You absently rolled it.

“You guys built it all by yourselves?”

“Yeah.” Ace looked ahead to the landscape. “Luffy, Sabo and I.”

Your stomach felt a little cold. Luffy almost never mentioned Sabo; you’d never heard Ace talk about their deceased brother until that moment.

That felt strangely special.

You leaned on the balcony beside him as well. The view was breathtaking; you could almost see the sea by that point.

“It’s pretty impressive.” You rested your cheek on your palm and quirked an eyebrow jokingly. “Why’d you invite me up here? Gonna confess your feelings or something?”

Ace chuckled. “Kids ain’t my type.” You stuck your tongue out, to which he just rolled his eyes in response before looking ahead again.

“I won’t be here when you come back next year.”

That took you by surprise.

Oh… you remembered. Luffy talked about it before; how he’d set sail at seventeen years old… and Ace was sixteen.

Surprisingly – the idea of not seeing Ace’s annoying older brother face made you feel a bit sad.

“So… you invited me here to make a last sweet memory?”

“Oh, God. Shut up.” He punched your arm jokingly, making you giggle. “And it’s not like we’ll never see each other again. I’ll probably end up bumping into you in the New World.”

You stared at him in silence.

He stared back.

“Luffy told you.”

“ ’Course he told me.”

You cussed him under your breath while Ace laughed. That stupid bigmouth!

“What’d you expect? Telling Luffy a secret is like giving bananas to a monkey and expecting it to not eat them.” Yeah, but he didn’t tell me your secret, a bitter voice in your head groaned. “Also… you were never really normal, Wolfie. It wasn’t that hard to guess there was something sketchy about you.” He patted your back. “But relax, I actually won’t tell anyone your little secret.”

You avoided his gaze for a moment. “So… you don’t care? About what I do?”

Ace shrugged. “None of my business what you do.”

Like Luffy, Ace’s reaction to your true background was nonexistent. Yeah. Both of them were coo coo crazy.

He closed his hand in a fist and rested his chin on it; his expression got a little more serious. After some seconds of silence, he spoke again in a softer voice: “...You know, Luffy is an outgoing guy, but he doesn’t have a lot of close friends. It might sound obvious, but… it’d be cool if you keep showing up… so he doesn’t feel that lonely without me.”

So… that was the reason. Yes, his “request” was a bit obvious, since you’d keep showing up anyway. But it made you feel funny. Maybe because you were reminded once again that, despite Ace’s hard exterior, he was a good older brother. And because as much as you’d deny it to yourself… deep down you felt jealous of what they had.

You massaged the back of your neck sheepishly. “Well… I only visit once a year for a few days. Does it even make that much of a difference?”

Ace scoffed. “Of course it does. Luffy counts the days for your visit every year. And he doesn’t even know how to count that well.”

Oh.

...That made you feel funny again. In a different way. In a weird way.

You avoided Ace’s gaze, looking down for a second.

He was already watching you when you looked up at him again.

He had a… strange, tiny smile in his lips. A bit mischievous, maybe?

No.

A bit knowing.

“...You have no idea, do you?”

You frowned.

“What?”

Ace chuckled again. He put both hands in the pockets of his shorts and started walking away.

“You should see the crow’s nest. The view up there is even better.”

“Wait– What are you talking about? Ace? Ace?!”

He just walked away, laughing and shaking his head slowly.

➛ 14

“Hey, hey, d’you see that?! Ace already has a crew! And a bounty!”

It was impossible not to see, as Luffy was pretty much shoving the newspaper in your face. You tried to smile with your mouth full of rice. Just the fact that Luffy was doing anything else other than eating the entire table during lunch was very shocking.

“Luffy, let her eat in peace,” Magura scolded, but he didn’t seem angry at all, a small smile never leaving his lips.

“I’m sick of you saying the same thing over and over. We all saw the newspaper!” Dadan groaned under her breath, to which Luffy just stuck his tongue out in response.

You couldn’t help but just smile at Luffy’s enthusiasm, even though you already knew about Ace’s adventures before you even arrived. He was making a lot of noise… albeit his bounty was still a humble 50 million. It was a bit strange to see his face plastered over a wanted poster and to know the entire East Blue probably already knew his name. Had he already entered the Grand Line, you wondered?

You eyed Dadan. The redhead woman showed a tough exterior as usual, but you didn’t see genuine annoyance in her eyes… much the opposite.

“Did Luffy cry a lot when Ace left?” You asked her jokingly.

“Hey! I didn’t cry!”

Dogura giggled and side eyed you. “Luffy didn’t cry-nii… But Dadan–“

She punched him in the head.

“Shut up! Where’s the respect?!”

She blushed furiously.

You swallowed your laughter along with the rice, afraid of being punched by her, too.

Mt. Colubo without Ace felt… weird.

Of course, you were happy that your friend was achieving his dream. Just like Luffy, Goa Island would never be big enough for Ace. And yet, his absence was noticeable at all times, something you just couldn’t ignore. He wasn’t there to make sarcastic comments, punch Luffy or laugh at you…

It felt empty.

And it was a bit sad to realize that if you were feeling like that, Luffy was feeling it tenfold worse.

He didn’t shut up. Not that he was someone to shut up on a normal basis, but now? The straw hat boy talked nonstop. He wasn’t even someone to talk too much about the past, yet you caught yourself listening to him babble about everything that happened in the weeks before Ace’s departure and everything he’d been up to since. Luffy wasn’t even focused on his training as he used to. He followed you around like a shadow. You wondered if his throat was dry from talking so much.

Ace’s request made much more sense now.

You were used to loneliness. You even learned to enjoy it to some extent. Luffy… wasn’t. More than that – he obviously hated it. So you could see why it was so tough for him being alone for the first time. Of course, Dadan Family was right there; he could go down to Foosha to see Makino whenever he wanted. But it wasn’t the same, was it?

So when Luffy dragged you to their tree house, you just accepted it. You didn’t make questions. You knew it was his little way of feeling close to his brother somehow.

Did it piss you off when a storm fell and there was no way of going back to spend the night on a warm bed? Definitely.

But you resigned yourself to not complaining out loud.

“We used to live here, you know?” His voice came from some corner, though you were too focused on trying to patch a leak on the ceiling to look back. The ceiling was so short that you didn’t need to stand on anything to reach it. “For a while.”

You gulped. By we, he was talking about Sabo as well. There was always a strange knot in your stomach in the rare moments Luffy mentioned him.

“Seems like a fun place for a bunch of kids to live in.”

Luffy giggled. “Yeah.”

His silence meant he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

You finished the patch and turned around.

Luffy had brought two thin mattresses, pillows and rags as covers. They were visibly very old, probably hadn’t been used in a long time… and kid sized. He placed them side by side and sat over his with crossed legs.

You sat in front of him.

The rain was loud out there. Luckily, it wasn’t followed by wind, so it wasn’t that wet inside the tree house. Kinda. The only source of light was your small lantern on the floor beside you two. It cast weird shadows on Luffy’s face.

He became… quiet all of sudden. He took his hat off and tried to scratch a stain from the red strip with his thumb. Shoulders dropped, head hung low.

Luffy looked less and less like a boy.

There was something a bit uncanny in seeing him so serious.

You crossed your arms and coughed. “What d’you wanna do? I got a deck of cards in my bag. We could play a game.”

Luffy pouted. “I’m not that great with card games.”

“You could learn.”

“You don’t have that much patience to teach.”

Bullseye.

“Uh… what about a guessing game?” Luffy didn’t answer, still focused on his hat. Weird weird weird. That’s so not him. I’m typically the one to be silent. Honestly, I’d rather hear him talk nonstop like he was doing before than this. “So what? We just gonna sit here and stare at each other?”

“It’s funny to see you try to cheer me up. Usually it’s the other way around.”

You were taken aback.

...Bullseye. Again.

Luffy had these moments sometimes when he blurted out stuff that showed he was not dense, even though he seemed to be. In fact, he payed a lot of attention to a lot of things – things that he found interesting, at least. And he’d blurt these things with a straight face, too.

He finally looked up and opened a kind smile.

“Thank you.”

Yeah. He… he looked less and less like a boy.

You looked to the side and frowned, hoping it would mask your embarrassment. “Why is it that whenever one of you bring me here, you get all emotional?”

Luffy giggled and finally put his hat aside before yawning. “Sleep in a rainy night is the best. Imma turn this off, okay?” He turned the lantern off before you could complain. Luffy laid on his mattress with his back turned to you. “Night.”

“Good night…”

But he was already snoring.

He dragged you to a place where you had nothing to do and slept.

Great.

You laid there, your back turned to him, for a long time. It wasn’t exactly pitch black; you could see weird shadows on the walls caused by the tree branches around. The endless pitter patter of the rain or a leak somewhere else in the house. The sound of Luffy turning around every five minutes. It seems he was hyperactive even in his sleep. It was a bit chilly due to the rain, but that cover was too short for you, which made you curl like an armadillo. You wondered how many insects were lurking in the shadows… if there were maybe snakes too looking for cover.

No sign of sleep whatsoever.

I should put the lantern under the cover and read a bit. Will he wake up with some light? Shit… the rain isn’t going away at all. I’ll catch a cold like that. Is he moving again? How can someone move so much sleeping–

Your entire body froze.

Every muscle. Every nerve. Even your lungs. Everything froze.

Arms wrapping around your waist.

His entire torso glued to your back.

And his face– his face was pressed on your neck. Right on your neck.

Wh– What?!

If that part of your brain wasn’t turned off, your immediate reaction would be to fight back. But it wasn’t on. That was Luffy. You’d never be able to hurt Luffy.

Even so – what the hell was he doing?!

Your heart raced violently as if it wanted to run away from your body; your breath came fast and short. Oh my God. What is going on? What?!

“L-Luffy?!” You managed to whisper somehow.

The answer came in the form of a soft snore.

Chills chills chills. He was breathing on your neck. It was cold then; now, it was steaming hot. His skin was always warm for some reason… but at that moment? Literally glued to you?

“Luffy?” You tried again, too scared to look over your shoulder. His hair tingled the back of your neck.

Another soft snore.

Sleeping. He was really sleeping.

Thinking back on it… you’d seen how Luffy usually sleeps. When he’s not sprawled over the bed like someone who just got shot, he’s hugging his pillow.

Oh.

So unconsciously… he found a pillow.

That made you calm down a bit – well, at least it wasn’t on purpose. Because it’d be strange if Luffy simply decided to… huh… cuddle. Not that you weren’t used to his hugs or the way he didn’t mind physical touch, but that was different. Very very very very different.

If I move away slowly… maybe he won’t wake up…

Yet, you didn’t move.

You stayed there. Still. Like a statue.

You weren’t brave enough to move away.

...You didn’t want to move away.

Luffy’s snoring wasn’t loud or annoying. His warmth… was comfortable. Shielded you from the rainy night. His grip wasn’t too tight. The slow movement of his chest against your back was calming.

To admit you were enjoying this would make you a weirdo?

Have you ever been this close to anyone before? No. Obviously no. You didn’t remember ever receiving a hug from your parents. They weren’t the type of people you could run to when you got a nightmare; they wouldn’t accept you into their bed and give you a comforting hug.

Yeah.

Perhaps being alone hurt you as much as it hurt him. More than you wanted to admit to yourself.

So slowly, your body relaxed. Slowly, you felt sleep getting heavy in your eyelids. The rain and Luffy’s calm breathing were your lullabies. Slowly, you fell asleep.

You woke up the moment he disentangled from you.

The sun already shone above the forest. He didn’t move away abruptly, but his lack of warmth was already enough to bring you back to consciousness.

You laid there, eyes closed, and waited to see what would happen.

There was silence for a while. Luffy didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. You wondered what expression he was making. You wondered if he felt uncomfortable or weird. You wondered if letting him wrap his arms around you was inappropriate.

Finally, Luffy poked your cheek.

You turned around.

His hair was a complete mess. His face all puffy.

“Morning.” His voice was husky from sleep. “Let’s go down to Foosha.”

He didn’t mention what happened.

So you wouldn’t, too.

Foosha Village didn’t have a lot of kids anymore.

Makino still baked cake for the Mayor every year, albeit the parties became smaller and quieter. The Mayor himself didn’t seem to mind, as he had already said these birthday parties were more towards the kids than to himself; but he still enjoyed a good chocolate cake anyway. Who wouldn’t?

The bar was empty in the evening. You’d already helped Makino put the chairs over the tables to sweep the floor. Now that it was all cleaned and most people left, she brought the second cake. She always baked a second cake to prevent Luffy from eating everything by himself.

It was just you, Luffy, Makino and the Mayor eating cake, sitting on a round table.

“I’m glad Ace made new friends out there.” Makino confessed, smiling sweetly. You had noticed how she – and the other three – just mentioned the name Ace after the bar emptied. It put a question mark in your head, as it always did.“I bet he’s having fun.”

“Having fun?!” Woop Slap choked. “Makino, he’s a criminal now. There’s nothing good about this.”

“D’you see his bounty photo?! He looks so sick,” Luffy completely ignored the Mayor, speaking with his mouth full of cake. Makino giggled. “And in three years, it’s gonna be me. I’ll have an even better bounty photo!”

The Mayor sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. “You still want to be a pirate?!”

“The King of the Pirates.”

“My God. This generation is doomed.” He scratched his head tiredly. “You should try to knock some sense into your friend’s head, aye, Wolfie? Since you seem like a good kid.”

Luffy scoffed. “Yeah. Tooootally a good kid.”You kicked his leg under the table. “Ouch.”

These moments were always nice. Just sitting around a table, eating cake and talking about anything that came to mind. The setting sun put orange shades over everything. The air felt lighter, fresher after yesterday’s storm; it smelled of chocolate, soda and salt. The weather was comfortable. Your heart, strangely at ease.

It’d be nice, you thought, if life had more moments like that.

The Mayor thanked Makino and said his goodbyes eventually. Makino, as usual, rushed you two to climb the mountain before it got dark.

“I gotta take a leak before we go,” Luffy said. You scowled.

“Rude.”

“Can I use your bathroom, Makino?”

“Sure.” The straw hat boy ran out of the bar, as Makino’s house was just beside it. The green haired woman looked at you. “I’ll take the basket in the kitchen for you, okay?”

The picnic basket, as usual. You nodded, and she disappeared behind the door.

You sat there, your back facing the front doors with your arms crossed, and let your mind wander back to what happened past night for the first time. Luffy was acting like nothing happened. Well, maybe in his mind, it wasn’t that important, as most things weren’t. Maybe he was right. Maybe you were looking too much into something unimportant.

...Why did, suddenly, you felt like it’d be difficult to be alone with him from now on?

Difficult in what sense? You couldn’t even explain why. The sudden embarrassment to look at him for too long. The… the weird thing in your stomach. It was all strange and stupid. You already knew Luffy for a long time, right? So there was nothing to be embarrassed of.

Makino appeared from behind the kitchen doors again, holding the picnic basket. “It feels weird to not put Ace’s slice this time… but I guess the others will be happy to have more food.”

Then, she looked ahead towards the doors.

Her eyes widened slightly.

“I’m sorry, sir… we’re already closed.”

There was someone else in the bar? When did they get in? How didn’t you notice them?

At that exact moment – the air froze.

It was like time moved in slow motion.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. You could see every grain of dust dancing in the air as sunlight hit them. You became aware of everything, your senses sharpened to the maximum potency.

The scenery around you wasn’t painted in orange tones anymore. It became blue. Freezing cold blue.

All because of the presence behind you.

You already knew who it was before you turned around. Yet, for a second, you tried to deny it to yourself. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

But your senses never failed you. Not even once. You were trained to recognize immediate danger before you learned to speak. It was ingrained in your body and soul.

You turned around slowly. Immediate danger would normally make you take a fight instance in the spot. But that was useless against who stood by the door. The sheer pressure of his power. It crushed your senses, oppressed you, made the air knock out of your lungs. You wished for a second that it’d be anyone; a powerful Marine, someone wanting to kill you for whatever reason…

Anything would be a better option than who stood at the entrance of the bar.

And yet, when you made eye contact, all of your thin hopes were crushed. Everything was crushed.

Scarpia Virgus.

He looked at you in silence.

The man stood with his impeccable posture as always, his hands behind his back. He wore an elegant black suit with a deep purple tie. His long beard and hair, as white as snow.

He was not wearing his owl mask.

He was not blinking.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move.

It’d better to have a warship with all its cannons aimed at you. It’d be better to have an entire batallion of Marine troopers to face. Anything would be less dangerous than his mere presence, the single fact that he was not wearing a mask.

And Makino saw his face.

No no no no no. Please do anything to me. I don’t care. But don’t hurt Makino. Don’t kill Makino.

Finally, you gathered the strength to get up.

“This is my grandfather, Makino.” You said without taking your eyes off him for a second. He could kill her in the blink of an eye. He could bring this entire bar down with a single strike of the katana he held behind his back.

And yet, you found a way to sound somewhat normal, to not let Makino understand how close to death she stood.

She made a surprised face and looked from you to him. “Oh, really? It’s a pleasure meeting you, sir.”

He looked at her for the first time and your whole body tensed. Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her.

All he did was open a serene lip tightened smile in response.

“Can we talk in the kitchen for a while?” You blurted out. “Privately?”

Once again, Makino looked from you to him repeatedly. “Uh… sure.”

She stepped aside and opened the counter’s door so you two could walk into the kitchen. You trembled when moved into the bar. Don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt her.

When he walked past Makino, he bowed his head respectifully for a second.

You followed him shortly. Locked the door as soon as you closed it.

And then, you were alone with your grandfather.

He moved slowly, analyzing the area, as he always did. There was a small round table in the corner. Virgus sat down and put his long, black sheathed katana over the table.

He signaled for you to sit in front of him with his finger.

You obeyed.

The silence was excruciating. He was excruciating.

This was your worst nightmare. The thing you took every precaution to not let happen. The reason why you were so obedient for all these years, the reason why you trained and took commissions without a single complaint: so you wouldn’t be followed. So you wouldn’t be discovered.

But there he was – Scarpia Virgus, sitting in Partys Bar small kitchen. Your two worlds clashing. The one you hated, and the one you loved.

Grandfather wasn’t looking at you.

He took something from the inside of his suit: a small black velvet sack where he always kept his runes. Virgus shook the sack slowly. You could hear the sound of the small pieces of carved bones clacking against each other.

And when he spoke for the first time – your blood went cold.

“Monkey… D… Luffy.”

He dropped the runes over the table.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling panic and defeat wash over you. He knew about Luffy. He knew everything.

Grandfather analyzed the runes in silence for some seconds. You never understood what those symbols meant and you didn’t want to. He caressed his beard and hummed.

“He’s the son of a dragon as well. I understand why you were naturally drawn to each other.”

You didn’t know what that meant. All you could do was try to control your body, try to not shake. Not Luffy. Anyone but Luffy. Please, don’t hurt Luffy. Please.

You gulped.

“How did you find out?” It was hard to control your shaky breath. Your voice was small, uneasy, compared to his deep firm tone. “Was it Landon?”

“It was Crowley.”

Once again, the air was knocked out of your lungs.

Crowley?!

He found out about Goa Island and Luffy? How? When?!

And then, for the first time, another feeling mixed with your panic.

Anger.

Hatred.

Crowley. That demon. He pried into my life. He put Luffy in danger. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

Virgus intertwined his hands and rested them above his stomach.

“You’re angry. He played dirty. Crowley is ambitious… he wants to be the best.” He quirked one eyebrow. “But you broke several family rules.” You avoided his gaze, way too ashamed to keep looking at him. “How many people know about you?”

Lying would be pointless. You didn’t want to put a target on Luffy’s head, but to lie would be to condemn everyone else, too.

“Just Luffy. B-But he doesn’t know our family name…”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

You gulped again. Even trying to put your emotions on autopilot was useless; not with him right there, what he represented.

“B-But Luffy is just a boy from the East Blue. Even if he knew… even if…”

“That simple boy is Vice-Admiral Garp’s grandson.”

That was enough to make you swallow whatever argument you had.

Vice-Admiral Garp?!

What?! No – that couldn’t be true. B-But– Luffy barely ever talked about his grandfather; he just said he was an annoying old man. You’d never met him. His grandfather was a Marine legend?!

Scarpia Virgus scoffed. “You didn’t know that? I’m very disappointed. You decide to reveal your true identity to someone and don’t even bother to know about their background.” You felt yourself becoming small. Small, small, small, smaller under his piercing gaze. “You know our family have some sort of freedom to do whatever we want. But Garp… he’s not the type of Marine that can be bribed. If he finds out his grandson is friends with a Scarpia, we’re all doomed. Do you understand the danger you put us all through?”

You looked down at the table. Fear, anger, shame. It was all crushing.

“Does my f-father know?” Your voice became even quieter than before,

Your grandfather collected his rune pieces slowly. “If he knew, this whole village would already be reduced to ashes. He would let the boy alive to not bring us any trouble… but not everyone else, to teach you a lesson.”

Virgus put the sack inside his suit again and leaned his intertwined hands over the table. His movement, getting even a bit closer to you, made you tremble.

“Your father is intransigent. He should be, as the head of the family. He won’t understand that you’re young, and youngsters make mistakes.” He paused to let his words sink in. You knew what the unspoken part meant. Punishment. Grave punishment. Months worth of punishment. “But I do.”

Your eyes darted up to him once more.

Grandfather caressed his beard again.

“Your parents want to take you out of the business completely... so you’ll be in perfect condition for your marriage.”

“What?!” You blurted out.

They wanted to keep you locked away at Scarpia Island until the wedding? Like a prisoner?!

That’d be worst than death.

“I don’t want that to happen as well. So this is what you’ll do from now on.”

You held your breath. Was he proposing a deal?

“You’ll become my personal pupil. I’ll train you beyond the child’s play Landon has been teaching you. But you’ll leave this island right now and never come back.”

You froze again.

Leave and never come back?

Leave Luffy?

No. No, no, no. I can’t. I can’t leave the only place I’m allowed to be myself. I can’t let my small island of peace forever.

I promised Ace I’d keep showing up. I… I can’t.

I can’t leave my only friend behind.

You tightened your hands into fists. Your heart raced violently.

“I-I… I don’t want to,” you managed to speak somehow in a shallow, weak voice.

Virgus scoffed – and you realized you committed a mistake. He’d been very calm until that moment; now, he sounded angry. The least thing you wanted was to annoy him.

“You’re in no position to not want anything.” Small small small the size of a grain of salt. “The rule of our family is the rule of the strongest. And you are weak. You’re weaker than your butler; you didn’t even notice my presence until I was behind you. You don’t want to obey me? What are you gonna do about it? Do you think you can fight me?”

“N-No. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can’t. You can’t fight anyone and win, because you’re naive. You haven’t understood yet that you’re a Scarpia; life will never be kind to you. Do you hate your brother? Do you seek revenge for exposing your secret? Do you want to confront your father? Do you hate this betrothal and want to get rid of it?” He leaned slightly closer. “Then be stronger. Be the strongest. Only then your voice will matter to anyone in this family.”

Virgus got up from the chair and took his katana again. “Say goodbye to him. I’ll be waiting in the harbor. If you disobey me… your father will know about this whole situation. And he won’t be as comprehensive as me.”

He started to walk away.

You gathered some courage.

“W-Why are you helping me?”

Helping. He was shattering everything that truly mattered to you.

But you knew he was right.

That was the rule of the family. The way out he offered was still much more merciful than what Scarpia Drachen would ever be able to offer.

He stopped.

“Because I see your true potential. And because you are my dear granddaughter.”

He left.

You sat there for a long time, staring at the table, until Makino walked in and asked if you were alright.

You weren’t.

You are a Scarpia; life will never be kind to you.

You would never be.

The climb up was silent.

Luffy babbled nonstop. You couldn’t speak anything. You couldn’t even look at him. Every step seemed heavy; with each of them, you felt as if a piece of your heart was dropping in the way.

You didn’t want to say goodbye.

But you couldn’t want anything. Not when Luffy, Dadan Family, Foosha Village would all be in danger.

It was all your fault in the end, wasn’t it? You weren’t careful enough; you were so sloppy that Crowley found out about your whereabouts. Crowley. I’ll kill him. I will actually kill him. This is not a joke.

Because of him, you’d never go back to Goa Island.

Because of him, you had to say goodbye to your only friend.

And it was stupid of you to wait until you were on top of your hill, that same place you sat down to eat watermelons all those years ago. The place you asked him if you could come back again. The same place where Luffy made his absurd promise.

It was stupid. It was silly. It was naive, as your grandfather called you.

But it felt appropriate.

You stopped walking.

Luffy looked back.

“Yo, Four Eyes, what’s wrong with you all of sudden?” He scratched his hair in a confused expression. “You constipated?”

Four Eyes. This stupid nickname. You weren’t even wearing glasses at that moment.

You gripped the handle of the picnic basket tighter.

For the first time, you looked up at him again.

The last rays of sun kissed his olive skin. Made his usually almost black eyes look dark chocolate. The wind hussled the trees around, played with the strands of hair on his forehead. You tried to memorize his slightly confused expression. You wanted to remember the face he’d make before you told him what you needed to tell, the last time he’d look… normal.

“Luffy, some… some things happened.” I can’t believe I’m saying this. Each word struggled to come out, as if you had swallowed sharp nails. “I received a call. I’ll… I’ll have to go back sooner.”

Luffy looked surprised for a second.

Then, his shoulders dropped.

Don’t make this face. Please, don’t make this face.

“Oh. That sucks.” He massaged the back of his neck awkwardly. “You leaving tomorrow morning?”

“I’m leaving right now.”

Don’t make this face. Don’t make this face.

“Ooh. It must’ve been very serious, huh?” It was his turn to look down. He somehow managed to smile again. “That means next year you’ll have to stay double more days to pay for now.”

You could say you’d come back, just so you wouldn’t have to go through all this pain. But that’d be way too cruel – and you couldn’t be cruel. Not with him.

You handed him the picnic basket.

“I’m… I’m not coming back next year, Luffy.”

He gasped.

His smile immediately dropped.

“...What?”

You looked down again, feeling your entire face and neck burn.

“M-My family is moving to the New World. It’s… it’s very, very far. I’m… not gonna make it here. Not anymore.”

That was the best excuse you came up with. You couldn’t tell him the complete truth. You couldn’t look at him. Just couldn’t.

Luffy put the basket on the floor.

You were startled when he put both hands over your shoulders.

And–

And he was smiling.

But it was a weird smile. It looked strained. Had he ever smiled like that before?

“No biggie!” His voice sounded strained, and strangely high pitched, too, as if there had a lump in his throat. “I’ll set sail in three years. I’ll get a crew and a ship. I’m gonna find you there this time!”

Oh crap.

There was a lump in your throat, too.

The final orange rays of light made it look like he was genuinely shining. His eyes were shining. You tried to ignore what that meant.

“You’ve been going through all this trouble of coming to visit me every year, right? Because I’m still weak and I don’t have a ship. B-But it’s alright! I’ll be even stronger in three years! Nothing will stand in my way!”

Then you were putting your hands over his shoulders too.

“No, I’m the one who’s weak.” You shook your head. “I’ll get stronger, too. I’ll work hard, okay? So no one will stand in my way.”

“Right!”

“Right!”

“This is a promise!”

“Promised!”

You hugged him.

Usually, you wouldn’t be the one to initiate any sort of physical touch. But how could you not at that moment, when your chin was trembling and you felt like you were holding back a dam? You hugged him tight, gripped the fabric of his shirt. Luffy hugged you back right away, offering no resistance; he never minded hugs anyway.

Shit, you didn’t want to let go. Even if you met each other again in three years – it was still three years, and you didn’t know if you could survive three years without him or Goa or the peace everything brought.

But it was your best shot anyway. Luffy’s safety was beyond your wishes. Even if it’d hurt.

Finally, you stepped back. Luffy coughed, scratched his nose with the back of his hand. His eyes were shining, but not in a happy way. His chin was trembling. God, his chin was trembling.

“Can you… hm… can you say goodbye to Dadan and the others for me?”

Luffy nodded. “They’re gonna miss your annual rent.”

You laughed and stepped back.

“So… I’ll get going.”

“See ya.”

You hesitated before turning around.

Your steps were heavy and slow; your shoulders were dropped, head hung low. This hill, this trail you already knew like the palm of your hand. All of these trees and bugs from the island that brought you so much comfort. You were saying goodbye to all of that. What if you had never climbed Mt. Colubo at 8 years old? How lifeless and colorless your life would be? You wouldn’t even know what fun meant.

What friendship meant.

You turned around abruptly.

He was still standing there, watching you go.

Your heart throbbed. Your hands were sweating.

“Luffy!”, you called.

He smiled and waved from far.

Your fists were tightened. You knew he wouldn’t hear if you didn’t yell. So you gathered all the air in your lungs for what you were about to say.

“Thank you for being my friend!”

Your voice echoed through the woods.

Luffy widened his eyes in surprise.

And then – he was ugly crying.

“Aw, come on, man! Why you gotta get emotional all of sudden?! Shut up!!”

You laughed. How could he make you laugh even in a situation like that? “I’m emotional? You’re the one crying!”

“I’m not crying!” He wiped his face with his forearm. But he was smiling through the tears, too. He laughed with you, too. “Get the hell out of here already!”

You sent him a last glance. A last look to keep in your memory. Luffy waving goodbye, grinning, at the top of your hill.

Finally, you turned around and walked down.

Then you were running.

Then you were crying.

Only when you were far enough. Only when you knew there was no chance anyone would see it. You crouched down in the middle of the bushes, hugging your own stomach, and cried. Quietly. Painfully.

You are a Scarpia; life will never be kind to you.

Your grandfather was right. Maybe you should’ve known it sooner. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad if you had already known.

But it hurt anyway.

No rain fell over the Goa Kingdom the night you said goodbye to your best friend.

A/N: THAT WAS SAD :((

so basically, "heavenly control" = rokushiki with another name (the thing the cp9 members b doing if you don't remember). i imagine the thing about being hyper aware and in control of your body would be the basis for rokushiki before u learn the hardening and idk flying like sanji.

assassin teenager that fights with chains?? WELCOME BACK GOGO YUBARI

all that shit happened right when my girl was developing her crush lol :((

as i said previously, next chapter we'll finally get to pre timeskip!! how will they meet each other after so long?? what'll be their reactions?? I DON'T KNOW!!

As usual, feedback is MUCHHH appreciated! If you read until here please don't forget to leave a comment <3 See you!

[bu3ck3r]

tied together – part 6

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: hi hello everyone we’re slowly getting closer to finishing this series and i’m so grateful for all the support, sweet comments and dms from you. thank you and have a good time reading this one.

tied together – masterlist

the morning of the championship game – tampa, florida

azzi’s pov:

the hotel room was wrapped in hush, the kind of silence only early mornings could carry—slow, warm, intimate. the a/c pushed a low buzz into the background, and the first light of florida’s sun cracked through the curtains in a soft beam, cutting across the white sheets like a brushstroke.

azzi blinked into the stillness.

next to her—no, on her—paige was tangled like she’d grown there.

they were tangled—naked, warm, skin on skin. paige’s face was buried in her chest, one arm slung tight around her waist like she was holding on in her sleep. their legs were knotted beneath the sheets, knees hooked, feet brushing. bare, vulnerable, and impossibly close. azzi could feel the steady rise and fall of paige’s breath against her skin. it grounded her. undid her.

she didn’t move. didn’t even breathe too hard. didn’t dare. not for ten whole minutes.

she just watched her.

the freckles on her nose. the curve of her lashes. her mouth—god, her mouth—was soft and a little swollen from how long they’d kissed last night. it made azzi’s stomach twist all over again.

azzi let her fingers drift up and down paige’s spine, barely touching.

how is this mine? she thought.

after about ten minutes of holding the moment hostage, paige shifted a little. a sleepy sound hummed out of her as she pressed her cheek more firmly against azzi’s chest, then without opening her eyes, she mumbled against her skin.

“mmm…good morning, beautiful.”

azzi smiled before she even opened her mouth. “good morning.”

paige didn’t lift her head. instead, she tilted it slightly and kissed the skin just beneath azzi’s collarbone—barely a graze, more air than contact, but it sent sparks skimming under azzi’s skin.

paige finally opened one eye, then both, slow and heavy-lidded. she smiled up at her sleepily. “you were watching me, weren’t ya?”

azzi didn’t even blink. “just admiring what’s in front of me.”

paige smirked and finally lifted her head. her hair was a mess, but her eyes were clear and glowing in the morning light. that sleepy, soft paige. the one nobody else ever got.

paige hummed, pressing a kiss right under azzi’s jaw. “damn, you’re really whipped.”

azzi lifted and eyebrow. “me? you were the one clinging to me like a koala all night.”

paige leaned in and kissed her shoulder. “that’s ‘cause you’re warm. and hot. and the love of my life.”

azzi laughed and pulled her by the waist. their bodies pressed together again, and paige settled back down against her.

and then they were kissing. slow. lazy. the kind that felt like coffee and sunday mornings and unmade beds. no rush. just lips and breath and hands drifting.

“can we stay like this forever?” paige whispered, forehead against hers.

azzi smiled. “you say that like you don’t have the national championship game in like eight hours.”

“yeah, yeah. whatever.”

they stayed wrapped around each other a few minutes longer, the world still far away. eventually, paige groaned and rolled over to check her phone on the nightstand.

her screen lit up with seven unread messages from nika.

okay sooo where tf are you

u better not be dead

okay wait i figured it out

you’re with her aren’t you

bitch

good for you tho

also come eat i’m starving

azzi was already looking at her own phone and chuckled.

bree:

how’d you sleep az az

hello???

girl u up? breakfast in 20?

aliyah:

azzzz we’re going down in a few. you coming?

azzi sat up and stretched, grabbing her toiletry bag from the counter and headed into the bathroom. paige watched from the bed, bare legs still tangled in the sheets, arms behing her head, eyes soft.

“you getting ready?” she asked, voice still a little raspy.

azzi nodded. “i promised i’d eat with the girls.”

paige leaned on her elbow, cheek resting in her hand, just watching. she didn’t even try to hide it.

azzi paused at the mirror. “what?”

“you’re just so fucking pretty, that’s all.”

azzi blushed and turned back around. “stop.”

“nah, never.”

paige finally got up, put on some clothes and followed her into the bathroom like a magnet. azzi was brushing her teeth when paige came up behind her, wrapped her arms around her waist, and pressed her cheek against azzi’s bare shoulder. then she kissed her neck, soft and slow.

azzi glanced at her in the mirror.

paige looked utterly gone—eyes hazy, mouth soft.

“you’re staring again,” azzi said, toothpaste foam catching the corners of her her lips.

“i’ve earned the right,” paige whispered, kissing her shoulder. “my girl’s hot as hell.”

azzi smiled and leaned back to her.

after azzi was done getting dressed, paige grabbed her hand, and they headed to paige’s room together, walking slow, shoulder to shoulder, hips brushing with every step.

nika was already there, leaning on the wall.

when she saw them, her eyebrows shot up. “damn. look at you two.”

she turned to azzi. “you look so pretty.”

azzi smiled. “thank you.”

paige added without missing a beat, “i know, right? my girl’s so beautiful.”

nika rolled her eyes. “you’re so whipped, p. wow.”

paige just grinned.

nika squinted. “so. how was your night?”

paige smirked. azzi tried not to choke on her own breath. “chill,” paige said, laughing. “it was… a night.”

azzi added, “a very good night.”

nika fake gagged. “okay, save the afterglow. don’t be late to practice, buckets.”

“i’ll make sure she won’t be,” azzi said. then paige added. “we’ll be in the bathroom. i gotta get ready.”

nika threw her hands up. “okay! i’m going to kk’s room. leave you guys to it.”

when nika disappeared, paige turned ro azzi into the bathroom and closed the door. azzi sat on the counter and paige stood between her legs. neither said anything for a moment. then paige whispered.

“you realize im already counting down the hours until i get to hold you again tonight?”

azzi ran her fingers through paige’s hair. “you’re obsessed.”

paige smiled, “yes, very much so.”

they kissed again. it was slower this time. heavy with meaning.

later at breakfast

both girls ate with their teams, but the glow hadn’t faded.

azzi was with bree, aliyah, and a few others at the long table by the hotel buffet. a plate of pancakes sat untouched in front of her.

“you’re quiet,” bree said, leaning in.

aliyah smirked. “she’s glowing.”

azzi shrugged, sipping at her orange juice. “y’all are so nosy.”

“you got laid, didn’t you?” bree asked, eyebrows high.

azzi didn’t answer.

bree gasped. “oh you so did.”

aliyah clapped. “with paige bueckers.”

“she got it bad,” bree whispered. “girl was humming walking down the hallway.”

“i’m happy for you,” aliyah said, suddenly softer. “you look like you finally exhaled.”

meanwhile, across the room, nika elbowed paige.“okay, spill the tea.”

paige smiled. “what tea?”

“don’t play dumb.”

teammates leaned in.

paige sighed, smiling down at her eggs. “it’s… it’s her. it’s always been her.”

ice deadpanned. “you’re so obsessed.”

“and i’m okay with that.”

under the table, paige’s phone buzzed.

azzi:

aliyah told me i’m glowing

i think it’s because i woke up next to you

paige:

you look like a dream baby

i almost didn’t let you go

azzi:

come see me after breakfast?

paige:

say less. on my way soon.

back in paige’s room

paige opened the door and there was azzi.

she didn’t wait. she grabbed her by the waist, kissed her deep, hands all over like she’d been starving all morning.

azzi giggled. “what’s that for?”

paige kissed her again. “i just love you so much,” “needed to see you before i go.”

azzi smiled, wrapping her arms around her. “i love you too, baby.”

paige kissed her neck, soft and slow. “are you gonna be at the game?”

azzi raised an eyebrow. “are you dumb? of course i’m gonna be there. i’ll be with the girls. i’m dressing nice too.”

paige groaned. “you’re gonna kill me.”

they cuddled for a minute on the bed, azzi’s head tucked under paige’s chin. paige’s hand stroking slow circles into azzi’s back.

then azzi whispered, “alright, time for practice.”

paige whined. “five more minutes, princess.”

azzi kissed her cheek. “i promised nika. you’ll be late.”

“i hate you.” paige muttered, still clinging.

“no you don’t.”

they shared one last kiss before paige got up, hoodie thrown over her head, eyes still full of her.

later azzi and the girls were by the poolside. the sun was high. the hotel pool sparkled.

azzi lay on a lounger in a tiny black bikini, shades on, curls piled on her head.

bree whistled. “damn girl. you better take a pic and send it to paige. she’ll lose her mind.”

aliyah added, “paige is gonna combust.”

azzi smirked, lifted her phone, and snapped a pic—thighs out, lips glossed, bikini straps low.

then she sent it with a message:

missing u. don’t lose focus out there.

locker room – post practice

practice had been intense—fast breaks, rotations, press traps. geno hadn’t let up for a second. paige was sharp, hitting her shots, running point like a general.

now in the locker room, paige dropped onto the bench, grabbed her towel, and checked her phone.

one message from azzi.

she opened it mid-laugh—and froze.

the whole locker room caught her face change.

eyes wide. mouth slightly open.

“yo, what?” ice leaned over.

paige didn’t answer.

ice saw the pic and whistled. “damn, paige. you lucky as fuck.”

nika laughed. “you okay?”

paige flushed. “i’m in love.”

“yeah, no shit,” someone muttered.

after a minute paige decided to finally respond to her.

paige:

that’s illegal

i’m gonna lose focus

azzi:

just thought of giving you a little motivation baby

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

paige’s pov:

the hotel hallway buzzed with nerves. not chaos—yet—but that quiet, coiled kind of tension that only championship day could bring.

sneakers squeaked softly over the polished tile as the team filtered down from their rooms, dressed in matching uconn warmups, headphones clamped over ears, eyes locked ahead. coaches gave clipped nods. managers counted gear bags like it mattered more than breathing.

paige was walking right in the middle of it. shoulders straight. hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows. mouth pressed in a firm line.

she looked locked in.

but her mind?

her mind was two floors up and twenty feet to the left, in a room that smelled like coconut curl cream and vanilla lotion. her mind was with the girl who had her heart in a headlock.

azzi.

god. just the name made something twist in her chest.

paige hadn’t seen her since before practice. just that one quick that kiss that still buzzed on her lips. the one azzi cut short because “time for practice, you need to be on time.”

but now she couldn’t focus when azzi was probably already in the arena, sitting pretty in some outfit paige hadn’t seen yet—something that would wreck her?

she reached for her phone. thumb hovered. then typed.

u here?

seconds passed. then:

been here. sitting with the girls. you nervous?

paige didn’t answer right away. she stared at the message a few seconds longer than she needed to. her teammates moved around her, loud and laughing, pulling energy from the moment. nika was eating fruit snacks. geno was barking something about timing and transition switches.

paige tuned it all out.

she typed:

can we meet?

just you and me. somewhere quiet before warmups. please.

a second passed. then another.

her stomach flipped.

where?

paige looked around. she knew the layout already, because she had walked it a dozen times in her head since breakfast.

the hallway behind the team tunnel. five mins.

azzi didn’t answer.

but paige didn’t need her to.

azzi’s pov:

azzi checked herself in her phone camera one last time.

they were already in the arena, down in the players’ friends and family section, but she’d slipped away. claimed she was going to the bathroom. bree had looked at her sideways and said “you’re glowing.” azzi just smiled and didn’t argue.

now she was in the hallway off the tunnel. alone. phone in her hand. heart trying to punch through her ribs. she looked down at herself.

the black skirt she picked hit just right at her waist—tight enough to hold shape, loose enough to move when she walked. she’d paired it with a simple fitted crop top that showed just a whisper of skin above the waistband.her curls were out, glossy and soft, like she hadn’t spent twenty minutes perfecting them. she didn’t looked overdressed, she looked hot—but not like she was trying too hard. just effortless. dangerous in the quietest way.

and she knew exactly what she was doing, because when paige texted her that she was “still thinking about that bikini photo,” azzi decided—yeah, let her think about this one too.

now she was walking the tunnel behind the arena, sneakers silent on the concrete. her heart was loud in her ears. the hallway buzzed with distant noise—announcements, shoes squeaking on hardwood, some mic tests. but it all faded away when she saw her.

paige turning the corner in a jog, breath hitching the second she saw her.

azzi didn’t say anything. just stared and watched the way paige stopped mid-step like she’d run into a wall.

her eyes swept down azzi’s body and didn’t come back up for a second.

azzi’s mouth twitched. “hi.”

“az,” paige breathed. “you’re…”

she didn’t finish the sentence. she just walked straight to her like she was in a trance and slid both hands onto her waist, pulling her in close like she’d dreamed of this day.

“look at you, wow.” paige whispered.

azzi tilted her head. “you said five minutes.”

paige looked down at her mouth. “i lied. i would’ve waited all night.”

she smelled like mint and citrus body wash, her hair still a little damp around her neck from the pre-game shower. her fingers flexed slightly against azzi’s waist like she didn’t quite trust herself to hold her without squeezing.

“you wore this for me?” paige asked, voice low.

azzi’s mouth curved. “who else would i wear it for?”

paige let out a soft, helpless laugh and leaned in, resting her forehead against azzi’s. her thumbs rubbed soft circles against her ribs.

“you’re unreal.”

“you said that last time.”

“i’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”

there was a pause, charged and quiet.

then paige pulled back just enough to look at her again—like she needed another second to take it all in.

“that picture you sent me earlier,” she said, voice gone soft. “the one at the pool? the bikini one?”

azzi smirked. “yeah?”

“i saw it in the locker room,” paige said. “almost dropped my phone. ice was like ‘yo, you good?’ i wasn’t. i wasn’t good. i was in hell.”

azzi’s laugh echoed in the empty tunnel. “so it had the intended effect.”

“you’re cruel.”

“just your motivation, baby.”

“mission accomplished.”

then paige leaned in and kissed her—soft at first, just a brush of lips, but azzi reached up and tugged her hoodie collar and that was it.

paige deepened the kiss, hand sliding up her side, thumb skimming bare skin. azzi hummed into her mouth.

they kissed like they hadn’t seen each other hours prior. like they didn’t care who walked past. like the world could burn down around them and they’d still be pressed into each other, sharing a breath.

but then azzi broke away.

not far—just an inch.

“paige,” she whispered. “you need to focus.”

paige kissed her again, softer this time. then again. “i am focused.”

“on the game, not my mouth.”

paige laughed into her neck. “same difference.”

azzi shook her head and took a step back. paige tried to follow her, but azzi held her back by the front of her hoodie.

“i’m watching you tonight. every second. don’t make me regret this outfit.”

paige grinned. “oh, i won’t.”

“go warm up.”

“i’m gonna be thinking about you the whole time.”

“then make it count.”

they didn’t kiss again. didn’t need to. just one last look. one last held breath. one last secret shared in the shadows. then paige turned and jogged back toward the court.

azzi stayed behind for a second, watching her go, heart pounding. she already knew what was going to happen tonight. paige wasn’t just going to win. she was going to own the moment.

the second paige stepped onto the court, it hit her.

the roar of the crowd. the weight of the lights. the size of the moment. it wasn’t nerves—it was pressure. the kind that could crack you open if you let it.

but she wasn’t letting it.

her heart was still back in that hallway, pressed against azzi’s lips, her hand tucked around a waist in that black skirt.

now it was in her chest, burning.

her shoes squeaked against the hardwood as she stepped into warmups. every movement felt like it was happening in slow motion—stretch, shoot, shuffle, shoot again. her jumper snapped crisp into the net, and the ball bounced back like muscle memory.

breathe. balance. release. nothing but net.

she let her eyes sweep across the arena, scanning until she found her.

section 135. row three. azzi.

the lights caught her skin, and her curls framed her face like a halo. she wasn’t just watching—she was locked in. leaned slightly forward, eyes tracking paige’s every step. like she wasn’t here for the game. like she was here for her.

paige’s stomach twisted in the best way.

“hey.” kk jogged over, chest bumping her. “let’s go. lock in.”

paige nodded, shaking out her arms. “i’m good.”

ice smacked her palm. “championship mode, baby.”

“locked,” paige said. but her eyes flicked back up once more.

and azzi smirked at her. just slightly. just for her.

paige stood at the top of the key as the ref tossed the ball into the air. the crowd surged as uconn tipped it back into their possession, and just like that—the championship began.

kk brought the ball up. paige rotated off a screen, curled to the elbow, caught it clean, and let it fly.

swish.

eight seconds in. first bucket. the bench exploded. azzi stood and clapped once, slow, like of course she did.

next play: ucla missed a contested three. ice boxed out two defenders, pulled the board, and launched it to paige on the wing.

dribble. cross. hesitation. blow-by.

she finished with a reverse layup under the rim that made the crowd gasp. 6-0. not even two minutes in.

she didn’t celebrate. just jogged back on defense with a look that said you’re in trouble tonight.

azzi could barely sit still.

she felt the heat from the court all the way in her chest. every time paige moved, it was like she was watching a fire catch wind. controlled, but dangerous. too beautiful to look away from.

“okay, your girl’s cooking,” bree whispered beside her.

azzi nodded, not blinking. “she’s been ready for this all season.”

midway through first quarter paige hit a pull-up jumper, then a deep three from the wing of a kk assist. she was in rhythm—moving like the game bent around her.

jana was everywhere—cleaning the glass, diving for loose balls, barking defensive switches. nika was a wall on defense, forcing turnovers left and right. the chemistry was ridiculous. everything clicked.

ice anchored the paint like a wall. kk chased shooters like she was hunting something. and paige? she was everywhere.

already in double digits and still moving like she hadn’t broken a sweat.

the crowd was loud, but in her head, it was quiet. all she could hear was the rhythm of the ball and azzi’s voice from the hallway.

halftime – uconn 48, ucla 28

paige hit the tunnel with her chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. her whole jersey was soaked. her arms burned. but her eyes were alive. like she was playing high on instinct.

in the locker room, sweat hit the walls like fog. the air was thick and full of steam, heat, tension.

geno paced in front of the whiteboard, tapping his marker like a war drum.

“this is how you play basketball,” he snapped. “now finish it. don’t get cute. get hungry. you’ve earned this.”

he paused.

“now go out there and take what’s yours.”

the team yelled as one. claps echoed. ice slapped kk’s shoulder. nika tossed her head back and screamed into the ceiling.

paige didn’t move at first.

she checked her phone under her towel.

azzi:

baby you’re locked the hell in

i’m so proud of you

this title is yours. i swear.

paige grinned and typed:

what do i get if i drop 30?

azzi:

we’ll find out later ;)

paige leaned back against the locker and exhaled slow.

then she texted one more thing:

watch me.

at second half paige came out firing.

first possession: step-back three from the top.

next: backdoor cut, kk hit her on the bounce, she laid it in left-handed.

then she pulled up from nba range just to flex. the net barely moved.

azzi stood again. didn’t even pretend to sit this time. her whole body was humming, chest tight with pride, cheeks sore from smiling.

“paige is on a heater,” ice yelled as they regrouped at the free throw line.

“she’s possessed,” kk said. “let her cook.”

ucla couldn’t stop it. the crowd knew. the team knew. azzi knew.

this was paige’s night.

and nothing—not the other team, not the lights, not the stakes—was going to take it from her.

final score: uconn 84, ucla 62

the second the clock hit zero, the arena erupted.

blue and white confetti exploded. cameras flashed. players screamed and tackled each other in the center of the court.

nika jumped onto jana’s back. ice and kk were jumping in place, tears in their eyes. geno smiled—actually smiled—and hugged his assistants like a proud dad.

and paige?

she stood in the middle of it, turning in slow circles, arms lifted, heart full.

she looked toward the crowd. toward section 135.

azzi was standing, hands over her heart, eyes glassy, not even pretending to hide how she felt.

she couldn’t run to her. couldn’t jump the rail.

so she smiled. big and proud.

paige’s pov:

the lights were too bright. the noise was too loud.

and none of it mattered.

not the cameras flashing in her face. not the mics shoved near her mouth. not the questions about legacy or pressure or “how it feels to be a champion.”

because all paige could think was:

where is she?

her head whipped toward the stands.there. azzi.

standing, eyes locked on her like nothing else existed.

and paige felt it in her bones: she had to get to her.

she turned to nika—who was mid-hug with ice—and muttered, “i’ll be right back.”

“wait—where are you—” nika started.

but paige was already jogging toward the tunnel, heart pounding.

azzi’s pov:

azzi hadn’t sat down in twenty minutes.

she couldn’t.

not with the way paige had played. not with the way she had dominated—owned the floor like it was built for her feet only.

every time she scored, azzi had clapped, yelled, even cried a little.

but now? now that it was over? she was frozen.

watching her girl get mobbed by cameras, hugged by teammates, crowned by the moment—and knowing she couldn’t be part of it. not here. not yet.

so when paige disappeared into the tunnel, azzi moved.

fast.

down the side hallway, behind the media section, away from everyone. they found each other at the same time. paige turned a corner. azzi stepped through a service door.

and suddenly—silence. no cameras. no lights.

just two girls in an empty hallway, surrounded by echoes and the smell of concrete and championship sweat.

paige didn’t say anything, she just walked right into her. arms around her waist. head on her shoulder. and stayed there. azzi held her just as tight.

“i’m so proud of you,” she whispered, hand stroking the back of paige’s neck. “you did it, baby.”

paige didn’t speak.

her breath was shallow against azzi’s throat. her fingers gripped the hem of azzi’s top like she needed to hold something or fall apart.

“i watched you,” azzi said softly. “from the first play to the last. you were…” she paused. “you were everything.”

paige finally pulled back. just enough to look her in the eyes. “i’m so happy you were there,” she whispered. “i wanted to find you the second the buzzer went off.”

“i looked for you after every shot.”

“and i was standing and watching” azzi smiled. “always.”

paige leaned in and kissed her—slow and deep, but trembling a little.

“i love you,” she said when they broke. “i can’t believe i get to say that after winning a championship.”

“you get to say it every day,” azzi said. “because i’m not going anywhere.”

paige exhaled shakily. “i can’t wait to see what the future looks like with you in it.”

azzi touched her cheek. “tonight was just the beginning.”

they kissed again. slow and thankful.

pressed together in the quiet. two bodies still buzzing from the game, from adrenaline, from love that didn’t know how to sit still.

but then…

“paige get your ass in here we’re making tiktoks!” kk shouted from inside.

paige laughed, grabbed azzi’s hand, and ran back with her.

“you’re late!,” ice shouted.

“yeah,” kk added. “too busy kissing your girl?”

paige winked. “maybe.”

azzi leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, watching paige glow. she didn’t need to be in the spotlight. she just wanted to see her happy. and she was. for the first time in a long time, paige looked free.

the locker room was wild. music, champagne, phones out, everyone dancing in full gear. paige had the net around her neck, they filmed one tiktok. then two. then five. at one point nima turned to azzi. “damn you look hot.”

paige grinned. “i know right? i keep trying to behave and she’s not making it easy.”

rooftop afterparty – 11:30 p.m.

the rooftop was glowing. fairy lights strung from metal beams. a soft breeze blowing through tall palm plants. dj spinning slow r&b into bassy dance sets. paige wore the net like a chain. azzi changed to a black dress, strapless and tight, hugging her hips and thighs like it was painted on. curls big and soft. skin glowing.

paige stopped walking. just stared. “damn,” she whispered. “she’s gonna end me.”

azzi saw her. smiled. and walked over, slow. “you staring again, p?”

“always.”

paige’s hand slid around her waist. her thumb pressed into her bare back.

“you’re the hottest person here,” she said.

azzi leaned in, whispering, “you say that every time.”

“i mean it every time.”

paige couldn’t stop touching her. hand on lower back, fingers on the hip. whispering in her ear every chance she got.

then they found a table where uconn teammates were already buzzing—dancing, laughing, drinks in hand.

“everyone,” paige said loudly, “this is azzi.”

ice raised a brow. “girl, we know, she’s a whole legend.”

“just making it official,” paige grinned. “she’s mine.”

nika snorted. “how are you already drunk?”

“drunk in love you mean?” paige corrected. azzi giggled and tugged her closer.

later they ordered more drinks.

“isn’t she beautiful?” paige asked her teammates, arm around azzi’s waist.

azzi hid her face. “paige.“

“i’m serious. like…how did i pull this?”

they all laughed. paige kissed her temple.

ten minutes later they got shots. tequila. paige was leaning into azzi’s side, slightly tipsy, warm and clumsy, voice low.

“still can’t believe i’m with you.”

azzi laughed. “you’ve had like four drinks.”

“and you’re still the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.”

“paige—”

“i wanna take that dress off.”

azzi’s breath caught. “stop.”

“no.”

“you’re drunk.”

“i’m honest.”

azzi flushed. smiled. bit her lip. paige kissed her shoulder.

a slow r&b track started. low. heavy. intimate.

azzi turned around, body flush against paige’s front. she started to move. slow grind. hips rolling against her like heat in motion. paige’s hands found her waist, mouth pressed to her neck.

“azzi,” she whispered, half-breath, half-moan.

“hmm?”

“let’s go somewhere quiet.”

they barely got the bathroom door shut before paige had pressed her against it. hands everywhere. mouths open, breathless.

azzi’s back hit the wall. paige’s mouth found hers in an instant. fingers in curls. hands sliding down thighs. heat pressed to heat.

“you’re gonna kill me,” paige breathed against her skin.

azzi pulled her in tighter. “good.”

the kisses turned desperate. azzi’s dress was hiked up, paige’s hands slid underneath, fingers slow and teasing. azzi gasped and grabbed the back of paige’s neck and pulled her deeper into the kiss. it was hot. fast and messy.

paige whispered, “you’re gonna make me crazy.”

azzi breathed, “i want you to.”

they stayed locked together until someone banged on the door.

“let’s go,” paige whispered.

when the went back to the party their faces were flushed. cheeks pink. lips swollen.

azzi’s dress rumpled. paige’s shirt slightly off-center. everyone saw.

ice raised an eyebrow. “y’all good?”

paige grinned, arm tight around azzi. “never been better.”

azzi just smiled and leaned into her side.

paige’s room – 4:00 a.m.

they were curled up in bed. half naked, tangled together like they couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. both buzzed, exhausted, drunk on each other more than the drinks.

paige kissed her shoulder, soft. “can’t believe this is my life.”

azzi whispered, “you earned every second of it.”

they kissed. then again. then paige whispered, “i love you.”

azzi smiled against her lips. “i love you more.”

they kissed again, this time slow and soft. sleepy. then silence. just the sound of breathing, of two heartbeats finally resting. and somewhere outside, the championship trophy was shining under the florida stars.

[autismfox]

I mean yeah as someone who has depression and will have depression for the rest of my life I can confirm it did get better. It is still part of my life but it is way way better. I like my life.

im getting really fucking sick of all this “it gets better!” bullshit. im going to have depression for the rest of my life. it’s not going to “””get better””” fuck you

[juicykvnture]

ONE OF YOUR GIRLS (2)

camboy!DickGrayson x fem!Reader

tags: AFAB reader, PiV (unprotected..), recording/livestream, exhibitionism, nicknames (angel/baby), dirty talk, light choking, pussy slapping, dacryphilia, (this is just straight up gooning)

a/n: I heard the people wanted a part 2.. (Insert Ayesha Erotica lyrics)

wc: 2.6K | Part 1 | Masterlist

Okay, your roommate is secretly a cam-boy. That’s like a totally normal part of every college experience, yeah?

One week. For one week straight you’ve been locked up in your room for as many hours as physically possible. You leave to go to class as early as you can in the mornings, hiding away from Dick as much as you can.

The fact you’re depriving yourself of seeing his gorgeous face everyday is like a crime in itself.

It makes you seem like more of a loser than you actually are. He probably thinks you’re some kind of hermit, or that you hate him.

The thought of that makes you sick.

Though, you’re not really doing anything to get yourself out of this situation.. like at all.

You’ve still been ogling him whenever you catch a glimpse of him. You’ve still been texting him in secret. Boo, you whore.

You just haven’t talked to him. Like, at all.

And how could you even go about doing that?

You can’t just look him straight in the eyes and tell him it’s him you dream about, it’s his cams you’ve been watching, it’s his name you’ve been panting under your breath every single fucking night, praying to every deity that he can’t hear you.

Some weird, fucked up ans twisted, perverted little part of you kinda wishes that he’d find out.

You’re overworked and underfucked.

You imagine what it would be like if he just walked in, what would he say? Would he be mad? Or would he just be too pent up over the fact you’ve been leading him on, taking matters into his own hands and bending you over and-

“Hey,”

You’re snapped out of your internal ramble by his voice, tilting your head up from your cup of tea, now clutched tightly in your hand.

You thought he was going out tonight.

“You been hiding from me or something?”

“Hiding? No that’s stupid, why would I? I totally have like zero reason to do that-” You mumble, sputtering slightly on your tea, letting out an awkward huff.

Wow, smooth.

“Kay, I’m just sayin’ I don’t bite.” He chuckles under his breath as he leans back against the kitchen counter, his hands tucked into his pockets.

See, you’d have no problem if he did bite. You also have no problem with the view in front of you at the moment but you’re trying to have an ounce of decorum, nodding as you take another sip of your tea.

Definitely not eyeing up his happy trail.

Fuck, it’s way better in real life.

“Anyway,” He yawns, pushing himself off of the counter.

“M’gonna head to bed, see ya.” Dick murmurs, brushing past you as he heads to his room, his eyes narrowing slightly as his focus locks on your necklace for a moment.

Where has he seen that Angel charm before?

@BLUUDHAVEN: can I call u? ;)

@BLUUDHAVEN: I’m gonna be on cam tonight anyway if you’re too tired!!

He’s so sweet to the point you actually want to sob or something. You don’t trust yourself to reply. Not with only a thin wall between your two bedrooms.

@BLUUDHAVEN HAS STARTED A STREAM

You slam your laptop shut, arms crossed over your chest as you stare at the ceiling. You feel like a fucking creep, again. It’s not even intentional!

With a sigh, you decide to get a drink, silently cursing yourself for the mess you’ve gotten yourself into, your socked feet gently padding against the linoleum floor on the way to the kitchen. You need a glass of water and a damn bullet to the head or something.

The soft glow of blue LEDs from his bedroom door makes you pause.

His door is also more than slightly ajar, how fucking convenient.

You hesitate, feeling like a total weirdo as you stand in the hallway, fidgeting with the charms on your necklace.

One look won’t hurt, right?

He’s leaned back in his chair, lazily running his thumb over the hem of his t-shirt, his head tilted to the side as he watches the chat start to spam through a half-lidded gaze, letting out a small huff.

His setup catches your attention.

So he wasn’t joking about this full-on camboy thing then? Last week was just on his laptop but this time he’s got a mic and everything.

Oh, and one more thing catches your attention.

The black mask covering his eyes.

So this is his routine?

You swallow, standing in his doorway like a total fucking creep, your fingers subconsciously curling into the fabric of your shorts.

He can’t see you, thank god.

He’s too busy talking to the stream, letting out small laughs at all the thirsty shit they’re saying, slowly pulling off his shirt.

He’s a showman at heart, clearly. Every move he makes is practised to tease, lazily pulling at the drawstring of his sweatpants.

It makes you remember that night you first video called him, shifting your legs slightly as you stand there, the heat between your legs all too familiar.

You’re trying not to drool like an idiot, okay?

He’s hot. You fucking know he’s hot, and by the looks of it, he knows it too.

You’re not listening to what he’s yapping into his mic, you don’t care. Your dumbstruck gaze is on his hands and how they slowly move down his body.

200 WATCHING

Biting your lip, you lean closer to the doorframe, pressing your thighs together even harder, clutching the frame and-

- - CREAKKK - -

Your heart stops.

No - no - no - no fuck, no.

Your mouth is agape, your feet don’t move, like you’re stuck in that doorframe.

It’s just silence, dead fucking silence.

Until you hear a small huff come from him in his desk chair, gripping the fabric of his sweatpants a little tighter.

The mask hides his eyes, but you can feel his gaze burning through you, watching your form in his monitor's reflection.

278 WATCHING

“Nice of you to join us, Angel.”

You open your mouth to speak again, but you’re unable to force a single word out, only offering a meek, panicked shake of your head.

“No?” He coos, hooking his thumb into his boxers as he leans back in his chair, tilting his head slightly to look at you.

“You’re telling me that wasn’t you?”

305 WATCHING

Every part of you is screaming internally, just begging you to turn around and run out of that room, hide under your bed and act like this never happened.

But ultimately, your throbbing cunt between your legs wins, resulting in a shaky step into his room.

“You thought I wouldn’t find out, then?” He tilts his head back, rolling the chair slightly so he’s closer to you, now shamelessly man-spreading with his cock twitching in his sweats.

“Didn’t mean to.” You offer, trying to act like this is all well and normal but your hardened nipples under your shirt give you away.

340 WATCHING

“Didn’t mean to?”

His eyes drift down to your chest for a moment, his legs moving further apart as he pulls you by the wrist to stand between his thighs, reaching a hand up to inspect the Angel wings on your necklace, and then up to your face, stroking his thumb over your flushed cheek.

“Didn’t mean to what? Lie to me for a month straight? Or watch me like a little creep?” He’s almost cooing, you’re trying to hate it but you can’t bring yourself to, not when he’s drumming his fingers against the top of your shorts, just to watch you press your thighs together harder.

You have half a mind to crawl under that desk to apologise, only to see if he’d turn that stupid stream off and fuck you as he promised repeatedly over text.

“Look, if you’re mad at me or something just turn that off and-“

413 WATCHING

“Nah,” he cuts in, hands grasping your hips to pull you back against him, one hand under your thighs to force you to sit down on his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder as his hands slide up your shirt, mouthing at your neck.

“Now why would I turn this off?”

You’re fucked.

Physically, mentally, in any way possible, you just are.

“Shit,” You’re not sure if he means to pant as he feels how fucking wet you are, throbbing around him with every upward jerk of his hips.

He’s got your thighs spread open, arm locked around your torso, you literally cannot bring yourself to move, your head falling forward with a choked-out whine.

“No, no,”

You’re barely able to recognise his voice anymore with how wrecked he is, his hand sliding up to your neck to tilt your head back up.

“Nuh-uh. You keep your eyes on that camera, Angel.” He murmurs, into your shoulder, giving your neck a small squeeze, your pulse slamming under his palm.

450 WATCHING

“Don’t you look away.” He instructs, and it’s not a suggestion, punctuated by another upward thrust of his hips, clutching the little Angel charm around your neck tighter.

“C’mon, you’re my pretty girl.”

That sounds better than it should.

You know you’re not. You know that this is literally just a job to him, he’s still wearing that stupid fucking mask over his eyes, and none of this is real.

You’re a glorified notch in his belt, another one of his girls, but he’s fucking you like you could actually mean something.

“Shut up-” You pant though it's half-hearted, and the both of you know it, his grip on you tightening as he fucks you harder, his cock throbbing inside you.

“Don’t act like you give a fuck,” You mutter, trying to hold on to some semblance of restraint, but your voice cracks, it’s all happening too fast.

Despite incessantly pestering you to do so, he hasn’t looked up at that screen. Not once.

All he can do is offer a shaky laugh, his fingers sliding to your clit, rubbing quick, messy circles that make your head spin.

“I don’t give a fuck? That’s what you think?” He’s biting into your shoulder, his fingers giving your pussy a firm slap before resuming their circling.

Your chest is heaving, biting hard into your hand to muffle your cries, shame and embarrassment as high as your arousal that you’re letting him do this, splitting your cunt open on his stupid fucking livestream, your thighs quivering as you try to close them at least a little bit, just to make yourself feel better about this.

It’s no use, his hands slide down to pry your legs back open, lifting you up and then slamming you back down like you’re one of those sex toys he usually does his live streams with.

Again, another wet smack.

“Shh,” He’s pressing his lips to the back of your neck, as if he’s soothing you. Your un-shed tears cling to your bottom lashes as shaky pants fall from your parted lips. You’re not entirely sure why, maybe it’s the embarrassment, maybe it’s the same, maybe it’s the fact he’s fucking you real hard and you don’t want any of it to stop.

You knew his cock would be good in real life but fuck, nothing could’ve actually prepared you for this.

You’re shaking your head, trying to hide your face in your hand but he stops you the second he sees you try, lacing his fingers with yours.

“C’mon, don’t-“ he rasps,

“Don’t you fucking hide from me, Angel.”

No hiding your face, no hiding your sounds, no more hiding in your room behind your laptop.

You stare at the screen, it’s like your heart stops.

600 WATCHING

“You’re still an attention whore,” you grit out, back arching against him.

“Me?” He has the gall to let out a breathless laugh, slamming you down against him harder, his half-lidded eyes drifting down to the number of viewers.

630 WATCHING

“Your slutty cunt seems to like it as much as I do.”

Unfortunately, that makes you throb around him to your own utter dismay.

“Shut up,” Your head is falling back against his shoulder, pulling your hand free from his grasp to try to yank on his hair or something, anything to get your own back.

But that just results in the mask falling from his eyes, his hand moving to give your sobbing pussy another smack.

“Fuck, you’re wet.”

He doesn’t even care that they can see his face anymore, he’s not thinking. Neither are you.

770 WATCHING

He may be annoying, arrogant, all those lovely words that you so dearly called him last time.

But unfortunately, he’s right.

He’s grabbing at your tits through your shirt, mouthing at your shoulder, your neck, anywhere his mouth can reach, his black hair a mess and clinging to his face.

820 WATCHING

“Fucking knew it, baby,” Dick pants as he gives your pussy another smack, it’s lighter though, considering his hands are so fucking shaky, his cock so deep you swear you can feel it in your throat.

“This pretty pussy really does have a humiliation kink.”

It’s all coming back to him now, all those nights he spent with his hand desperately pumping his cock, acting like it was you, oblivious to the fact you were a paper thin wall away from him all along.

He’s grinning, fucking delirious as you cry out, your nails digging into his forearm, leaving little red marks on his tanned skin.

You’re spaced out, babbling. You’re tilting your head to the side like you’re trying to kiss him but you’re unable to move enough to crane your head up properly.

Fuck, you’re so much hotter in real life. He doesn’t know why he’s done all these streams alone, all these nights alone when you would’ve been there with him all along.

You’re cumming, he knows you are.

But he doesn’t let up, arms firmly wrapped around your waist, not letting you move away from him, not for one second.

“C’mon Angel, don’t cry.” his hand moves to the back of your head, staring down at you through his dark lashes, the flush on your face and the tears down your cheeks making him whine like a whore, bumping his forehead against you in a haphazard attempt of locking your lips together.

And when he does manage to kiss you, he fucking cums on the spot, his shaky hand gripping your neck as his hips stutter, the way he whines out your name is nothing short of desperate.

His hips snap up, thrusting harder into you than you knew possible, making you whine as his cock pulses, thick and twitching deep in your pussy. It all floods you, ropes of his cum coating your insides, dripping around him buried inside you.

His own head falls forward, panting into your shoulder with shaky, sloppy little kisses. He’s rambling, you can barely make out what he’s saying. It’s something about how pretty you are, how good you take him.

1K WATCHING

More than he’s ever had on one stream.

“Fuck, Angel,”

He fumbles to disconnect the camera, not giving a fuck as it hits the carpet, his body as shaky as yours.

“I think-“

He’s panting, hands running over where his fingers left harsh indents moments ago, trying to soothe them.

He’s still all shaky, disheveled as he presses a chaste kiss to your temple.

“I think they like you more than me.”

a/n: RAAGGAHAGAHAHAHDHHDHRGHERRRR

thank you for reading!!

I’ll see myself out.

[moonriizing]

Begin Again | p.js (18+)

Jay didn’t know much about love. But he knew what he wanted—and it was you, even if you came with a kid, emotional baggage, and walls he had to work his way through.

Genre: strangers to lovers, smut, fluff? Pairing: Park Jongseong/Jay Park x afab!reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), MDNI, reader is older than jay and has a child, no angst just light and easy Notes: 11k words. Listening to Begin Again by Taylor Swift. Fought through my broken laptop and writer's block to finish this baby on time. I hope you like it! I appreciate comments A LOT so don't hesitate if you got smth to say :> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally nor claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story.

enjoy~

In a quiet suburban neighborhood on the south side of the city, Jay was making an inventory of the products that came yesterday, boxes of them filling up the small storage room at the far back of his pharmacy. Just another part of his mundane routine in a town that rarely gave him anything new.

He was quite content with it, despite the mundanity. Business was great in these areas, it was closer to home, no rush hour traffic, and he was far from the hustle and bustle of the downtown area. He liked to think it was a privilege to have this peaceful means of earning a living.

Most of the people were nice. He’d had his fair share of problematic and entitled customers, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He’d also never had to deal with robbers and whatnot that were more rampant downtown. Sure, he kept seeing the same faces, but he didn’t really mind. The folks around here were older, some of them in retirement age who liked to bring him produce or food from time to time, and the others were married people going through their own day-to-day routine of driving kids to school and picking up prescriptions.

It was nice, and he never really had any grand expectations of experiencing anything out of the ordinary.

Until today, when you walked into his pharmacy while he was in the middle of his inventory task. The chimes on the door made Jay whip his head around, surprised by the way the door was forcefully pushed open. For a second, he thought he was being robbed, craning his neck, trying to catch a glimpse past the shelves blocking his view.

Then you came into sight.

You looked like you’d been running, breathing just a little too hard, eyes darting over the shelves like you were hunting something. Jay took a step forward, halfway ready to offer help, when you spotted what you needed on your own: a pregnancy test kit.

You grabbed it without hesitation and made a beeline for the counter, where he barely had time to straighten up before you slapped it down, pulled out your wallet, and blurted, “Do you have a bathroom I could use? It’s kind of an emergency.”

He blinked. “Uh—yeah. Just through there.” He gestured toward the hallway behind him. “Last door on the right.”

“Thank you,” you said breathlessly, taking the kit with you like your life depended on it.

Jay stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where you’d been. That wasn’t a robbery. And that was definitely not the usual retiree bringing him extra zucchinis from their backyard garden.

Five minutes passed. He tried to go back to inventorying—a box of ibuprofen, a box of multivitamins, a box of whatever—but his eyes kept drifting back to the hallway.

When you finally emerged, you were looking less panicked, breathing lighter as you offered him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that,” you said, brushing hair out of your face. “Had a bit of a cuckoo fit back there. All good now.”

Jay raised his eyebrows, unsure if he was allowed to ask what “all good” meant. Instead, he managed a small smile. “No worries.”

You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge near the register, twisting the cap open before you’d even paid. “I’ll take this too, please.”

He rang you up, still caught somewhere between curiosity and amusement. “That would be 4.60.”

“Awesome, thanks.” You paid for it, gave him a quick wave and a parting smile—bright, genuine, and completely disarming. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he replied, a little too late. The door had already closed behind you.

And just like that, you were gone. Jay stared at the now-quiet door for a moment, then turned back toward the storage room to continue his forgotten inventorying.

He wasn’t in the habit of wondering about customers after they left, but still, he couldn’t help but wonder: Was it positive? Or negative?

If he were being honest, he could be quite nosy when something intrigued him. But more important than the question about your pregnancy test: Would he ever see you again?

Jay saw you again the following week. And the week after that. You never came in for anything urgent. Just little things—a couple bags of candy, Band-Aids, headache pills. One time, allergy tablets.

But what he noticed the most were the tampons. You picked them up fairly regularly. So, naturally, he assumed the pregnancy was probably a bust.

Not that it was any of his business. But the nosy part of him filed that information away with some sort of satisfaction.

You didn’t talk much when you came in. Just the usual, greetings, item requests, and a soft “thank you” when you left. Still, you were always polite and nice. You had this calming presence about you, and a smile that made the store feel a little less sterile. Jay couldn’t say when it started, but he found himself looking forward to your visits.

Not that he was doing anything about it.

Okay, maybe he was doing a little.

He might’ve started taking a bit longer bagging your items, adjusting things unnecessarily, or recounting if he got the right number of items. And a few times, he’d tossed in a cookie from the counter and called it a freebie. You always laughed a little and thanked him, like you didn’t realize it was a bribe for your attention.

He let his hand brush yours sometimes when passing your card back. And maybe his eyes lingered more than they should, along with a charming smile that he knew girls liked about him. But it wasn’t a big deal. He figured you didn’t notice. Or if you did, you didn’t mind.

Jay wasn’t planning on making a move. He liked the way things were—harmless, light, the occasional heart skip when you walked in.

That changed the day you asked, “Hey, which cold syrup would you recommend for a five-year-old?”

The words didn’t even fully register at first. He was distracted, caught up in how you looked that day, button-down blouse, and faded jeans with your hair bunched up in a bun.

Then he noticed the ring on your finger. Thin and simple, on your left hand.

He didn’t know how he’d missed it before. “Is it for your kid?” he asked, trying not to sound like he was confirming anything.

You nodded. “Yeah. He’s got a little cough. Nothing crazy, just, you know. First week of school.” You sighed. “His pediatrician’s halfway across the country, though. We haven’t sorted out a new one yet.”

Jay turned to grab a bottle from the shelf behind the counter, masking his expression. “There’s a clinic a few blocks down,” he said. “Good pediatrician. I know him. I can give him a call and tell him to expect you, if you want.”

Your face lit up, surprised and grateful. “Really? Oh my god, you’re such a sweetheart. Thank you.”

Jay gave a small nod, sliding the bottle into a paper bag. “No problem.”

And that was that. A little piece of information tucked into place. Married with a five-year-old kid. He didn’t know what he felt about it—only that it made sense. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise. This suburb was a place for people who wanted to settle down. There was no way a gorgeous, clearly intelligent woman like you would move here for nothing.

Still, he watched you walk out the door like he always did. And this time, he didn’t let his fingers linger when he handed you the receipt.

That night, just as he was eating his dinner at home, he got a phone call that had him shaking his head in amusement. Jay knew exactly why his friend was calling and part of him didn’t wanna entertain Sunghoon nosing around his affairs, but a larger part of him wanted to hear how the day went.

“Yo,” he answered, mouth still half full of kimchi fried rice.

“Hey,” Sunghoon said. “Quick question, what’s going on between you and that woman you sent over today?”

Jay fought the urge to smirk. “Who?”

“You know who I’m talking about. The one with the five-year-old. Said you recommended me to her. Pretty. Dressed nice.”

Jay leaned back in the chair, eyebrow raised, even though no one could see him. “There’s nothing going on. I just told her about your clinic. I thought you liked referrals?”

“Yes, I do, but you, my friend, have never referred anyone to me ever since I put up shop here,” Sunghoon replied, chuckling. “You never told people about my clinic. I had to hang my own damn poster in your window last year because you said—and I quote—‘people don’t look at windows anyway.’”

Jay chuckled. “I let you advertise, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point. Who is she?” Sunghoon asked again.  “I have a feeling.”

“Everyone has feelings.”

Sunghoon sighed in exasperation. “Okay, smart boy. You won’t tell me? Fine. I’ll ask her myself when she comes in for their next appointment.

Jay shook his head with a soft laugh, standing up to put his dirty dishes away. “What do you take me for? She’s a married woman with a kid. I’m not interested in her like that.”

A pause. Then Sunghoon said casually, “Dude, she’s not married.”

Jay blinked. “What?”

“Well, she was, but from what I know, she’s in the middle of a divorce. So technically, she’s not married.”

Jay sat up a little straighter. “How do you even know that?”

“I asked the kid where his dad was. He said, ‘Far away.’ Then his mom clarified. Told me they’d moved recently, and she’s still figuring stuff out. You know, small talk between patients.”

Jay didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just chuckled and said, “So you violated patient confidentiality and now you’re airing out other people’s businesses?”

“For the record, my patient was her son,” Sunghoon replied defensively. Then he added, “Didn’t seem like she was trying to hide it, anyway. Just honest, you know?”

“Huh.” Jay glanced toward the windows where he could see his pharmacy from across the street. “Well. Good to know, I guess.”

He ended the call not long after, but the subject of their conversation lingered in his mind.

She’s not married anymore. He wasn’t sure what the feeling in his chest was—maybe surprise, maybe… relief? Whatever it was, Jay found himself watching the door a little more than usual after that day.

Just in case you walked in again.

After that conversation with Sunghoon, Jay didn’t do anything drastic. He wasn’t about to pull a move just because he found out you were single—not officially, anyway. But he started to be less subtle about his interest.

He started talking more. Not just the usual small talk about the weather, but real casual, yet still low-risk questions. 

“How are you liking the neighborhood so far?” “Your kid doing better?” Or, “You always this early on Saturdays?”

You answered, always polite. Sometimes amused. Once, you even teased him back when he told you the cold medicine you picked was the second-best option. 

“Aren’t pharmacists supposed to say they all have the same formula anyway?” you said with a soft laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. Jay liked that more than he probably should have.

He didn’t flirt, not really. But he started offering you things. A pack of cookies he claimed was “going stale anyway.” A small bottle of hand sanitizer because “everyone’s getting sick.” And once, a chocolate bar he claimed was “part of a promo” even though there was no promo.

You smiled every time, said thanks, and walked out with your usual grace—hair tucked neatly behind one ear, blouse always crisp, trousers cleanly pressed. Jay noticed everything. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.

Still, you never said anything. Never called him out on the extra attention, never gave him a look that told him to stop. That was all the encouragement he needed.

He was still taking his time. But now, at least, he had a reason to hope.

One day, Jay was standing outside the school gates, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the crowd of chattering kids and waiting parents. It didn’t take long before he spotted his niece, bouncy steps, pigtails flying, and a pink backpack two sizes too big.

“Uncle Jay!” she yelled, running toward him.

“Hey, kiddo,” he greeted, crouching down to catch her in a hug.

The second he pulled away, she blurted out, “I have a boyfriend.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, amused. “You do?”

She nodded proudly, pointing across the pavement. “That’s him.”

Jay followed her finger, and there you were, walking hand in hand with your son. The kid was talking animatedly, and you were smiling, eyes soft as you nodded along. It was a nice sight. Sweet and warm in a way that tugged at something in his chest.

“Well, baby girl,” he said slowly, lifting his niece into his arms, “you can’t date him.”

“Why not?” she asked, all sass.

“Because,” he said with a smirk, “Uncle Jay’s thinking about making him my son.”

She squinted at him, suspicious. “Why? That’s gonna make us cousins.”

“Yeah,” Jay chuckled, “pretty much.”

You spotted them then. Your car was parked nearby, and your gaze landed on him as you crossed the lot. You gave him a little wave, your smile as kind as always.

“Hi,” you said, your son hanging off your arm.

Jay straightened, offering a smile back. “Hey, nice to see you.”

“You know what, yeah,” you chimed, brows creasing slightly. “It’s quite nice seeing you outside your pharmacy for a change.”

Jay just nodded, eyes flitting to your son, then back at you. “This is my niece,” he said quickly, patting her back. “Not my daughter.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve met her parents,” you said with a friendly grin. “Did you know your niece’s been telling everyone my son is her boyfriend?”

Jay glanced at the two kids, now locked in a shy, giggly standoff behind him. “He’s  got good taste.”

You laughed lightly, genuinely, and just a little surprised. “Apparently so.”

He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t think about anything other than how he could casually bring up coffee and smoothly segue to asking you if you wanted to grab one with him. But then the moment passed before he could even get a word in.

“Well, see you around,” you said, nudging your son gently toward the car.

“Yeah,” Jay managed. “See you.”

You gave him one last smile, then disappeared behind the driver’s seat, pulling away with a wave.

That was fine. There’d still be a next time.

After that afternoon at the school parking lot, Jay found himself suddenly with a new reason to pick up his niece every single day. Sure, he loved his niece, but let’s be honest—he wasn’t complaining about the extra excuse to see you more often. 

Naturally, you bumped into each other more and more thanks to this slight shift in his daily routine. You kept popping up in the right places at the right times, too. At the pharmacy, at the school gate, on the sidewalks. Slowly, the awkward ‘strangers’ vibe turned into something more friendly and familiar. More conversations, more smiles, until he was finally able to ask you out.

Well—technically, it wasn’t him. It was his niece who asked you out, although he had to admit he’d orchestrated the whole thing when he casually brought up ice cream one afternoon while picking her up. The little girl, who was more or less nuts about ice cream, naturally asked if they could get some.

“Of course we can,” he told his niece. “What about your boyfriend? Does he like ice cream?”

She gave him a glare. “You said he can’t be my boyfriend.”

Jay smiled and said, “Doesn’t mean you can’t hang out with him as friends.”

Next thing he knew, there they were—Jay, you, your son, and his niece sitting at the little picnic tables by the park, one ice cream each. The kids were loud, the sun was warm, and the conversation between you felt… right.

Jay wasn’t proud of using his niece as a wingman, but hey—he had to get creative.

In that short afternoon, he learned you weren’t originally from the city. You said you moved around a lot growing up—something about your dad being in the military—and now you craved stability for your son. Jay told you he was born and raised here but had spent a couple of years abroad for school. You asked if he missed it. He said, sometimes, but this place always pulled him back.

He also found out you liked black coffee, hated olives, and were deathly afraid of frogs. You learned he once worked as a barista, still played the guitar sometimes, and secretly hated studying pharmaceutics in college but was too lazy to change courses.

Then, at some point—Jay didn’t even remember what led to it—he found himself asking, “How’s it going, by the way? The divorce with his dad?”

You looked a little caught off guard, but not upset. “We’re almost done with it,” you said. “That’s why my son and I made the move already, but…” You paused, brow furrowed slightly. “How did you know?”

Jay hesitated. “Sunghoon, the pediatrician. He’s a friend and he mentioned it.”

Your eyebrows rose. “But he’s a doctor. You know, patient confidentiality and all that.”

“But you weren’t the patient,” Jay pointed out, smirking.

“Ah, a loophole,” you said with a small laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Jay said. “We weren’t gossiping or anything. It just came up in passing. He didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you said, before he could finish. “Really. I don’t mind. I was just surprised you guys talked about me, that’s all.”

You gave him a small smile—reassuring but a little distant—and he didn’t press any further.

Later, you drove off in your car and he in his, both of you back to your own worlds again—at the pharmacy, at the school gate, little moments here and there. The year slipped quietly by like that.

Jay still wasn’t in a rush. You probably have enough on your plate as it is without him trying to work his way into your heart. But he liked that he was getting to know you piece by piece, week by week. And you… Well, you didn’t really mind.

Life simply kept happening in the last year that you knew each other. Jay still saw you at the pharmacy. You didn’t drop by as often anymore—just the occasional cough syrup run or a forgotten errand on your way home—but when you did, he always noticed. Noticed the way you gradually started dressing more comfortably now, with your hair tied looser. The way you started greeting him by name. The way your son would run straight for the vitamin gummies section without asking.

There were school events, too. Halloween parades, bake sales, parent-volunteer days. Jay somehow always ended up manning the drink table with you, or stacking plastic chairs nearby, or chatting while the kids ran wild in the gym. You once made him try your brownies, then smugly told him they were store-bought after he said they were amazing.

Sometimes the kids would ask for another ice cream day, and you’d give in because it was summer, or the end of a long week, or just because. You’d sit with Jay at a park bench while the kids played, sipping iced coffee and trading random bits of adult life. Insurance. Streaming shows. Grocery hacks. Divorce lawyers.

Once, he bumped into you at a bookstore downtown. You were by yourself, reading the back of a novel. He offered to walk you to your car. You ended up getting coffee instead, sitting at a corner table while the rain tapped against the window. You didn’t talk about anything deep that day, but Jay went home thinking about it anyway.

The friendship never needed defining. You never talked about what it was or what it wasn’t. But it was warm and consistently growing. And though it never crossed any clear lines, Jay knew exactly where his heart had been all year—right there, slowly unfolding beside yours.

Your son’s birthday came on a Saturday with clear skies and just the right kind of weather for running around. Jay arrived with his niece in one hand and a tray of slightly overbaked brownies in the other. He’d insisted on bringing something because he said it felt rude to come empty-handed. You’d invited him ahead of time, not just as his niece’s chaperone, and he’d been flattered—even if you said it as casually as offering someone gum.

The party wasn’t anything extravagant. Just an inflatable playhouse in the backyard, a long table of finger foods, and a few cartoon-themed decorations here and there, but it was perfect. Kids were loud and happy, the food was good, and you looked relaxed for once.

Jay kept mostly to the sidelines, hovering near the snack table or helping pass out juice boxes. You were on the patio chatting with other parents, glancing toward the kids every so often. Later, he found himself in the kitchen with Lucy, your friend from the city, godmother to the birthday boy, and someone who had clearly known you long enough to tease you without remorse. Jay had just helped hand out second helpings to hungry kids and was wiping his hands on a napkin when you walked in.

“Thanks for helping out,” you said with a smile. “Didn’t realize kids’ parties require keeping kids entertained and their parents too. Just not with inflatables but with random stories and gossip.”

Jay chuckled as he leaned against the counter. “No problem at all. I like helping.”

Lucy smirked from her perch on the stool. “I think he just doesn’t want to hang out with the moms.”

“The moms seem nice,” Jay said. “I just can’t relate to them much.”

You chuckled as Lucy raised an eyebrow like she didn’t quite buy it. But she didn’t press. Instead, she turned her attention to you. “His dad didn’t show?”

You shook your head. “He’s abroad. Business.”

Lucy scoffed softly. “Of course he is.”

“I honestly don’t mind,” you said. “It’s better this way.”

Jay watched your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, then loosen again.

Lucy nodded in agreement. “Birthday boy wasn’t thrilled, though.”

“No, he wasn’t,” you admitted, exhaling softly. “But he’s fine now. Kids bounce back quickly.”

Lucy smiled. “Wish adults could do that.” Then she excused herself to the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone.

You turned toward him. “You want anything else to drink?”

Jay glanced at the counter. “I think I maxed out on the juice.”

You pulled open the fridge. “There’s soda, a couple beers... nothing special.” A second passed. “Actually—” You reached for the cabinet above the sink. “I have a bottle of wine I’ve been saving.”

Jay raised a brow. “Saving it for what?”

“Finished the house renovations last month,” you said, pulling out the dusty bottle and turning it in your hands. “Figured I’d celebrate.”

He smiled. “But?”

You gave a small shrug. “Didn’t really feel like opening it alone.”

Jay’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, how you said it offhand, but didn’t quite meet his gaze.

“Well,” he said, holding out his glass. “You’re not alone now.”

You poured for both of you and handed him a glass, your fingers brushing briefly against his.

“To the house,” he said, lifting it slightly.

You clinked your glass to his. “And to a finalized divorce and custody battle.”

That earned a laugh from him, surprised, but not mocking. You were blunt sometimes, but not bitter. He liked that.

Jay took a sip, then caught a glimpse of your hand as you lowered your glass. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you’re still wearing that?”

You looked down at your wedding band, brows lifting like you’d forgotten it was even there. “Yeah. I can’t take it off.”

“Why?” he asked, tilting his head. “Still in love with the guy or something?” he quipped.

“God, no,” you blurted, shuddering. “Ew.”

“Then?”

“I literally can’t take it off,” you said plainly, making a show of trying to pull it out. “It’s stuck.”

Jay squinted. “Seriously?”

You held your hand out, fingers splayed. “Tried soap, oil, all the TikTok tricks. Nothing.”

He took your hand gently, eyes narrowing as he inspected the ring. “Have you tried the dental floss trick?” 

You shook your head.

“It might work. Can I give it a try?”

“Oh, yes, please,” you said, sighing in relief. “I beg.”

He smiled, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckle. “Alright then. Let’s see what we can do.”

You disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a spool of dental floss, handing it back to him with a look that says you were leaving your life in his hands. “How does it work exactly?”

“You thread the floss under the ring, then wrap your finger tightly. It compress the skin around the ring. Then it slides right off.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Wrap my finger in string and watch it turn purple? Sounds great.”

“Don’t mock the science,” Jay quipped, chuckling lightly. “Doctor Jay is in. Patient, please assume the position.”

You exhaled sharply and held out your hand, resting it on the towel. Jay gently took it, careful and delicate as he turned your palm over.

“Okay,” he said, threading the floss under the ring. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“It already hurts.”

“We haven’t started yet.”

“Just mentally preparing,” you muttered.

He began wrapping the floss tightly, brows furrowing in focus. He tugged on the floss and the ring began inching up slowly, twisting as it went. You hissed in pain.

“Okay, okay. That hurts.”

“Scale of one to ten?”

“Like… a six,” you hissed, then muttered, “seven now.”

“Almost there,” he murmured, still tugging on the floss. “You’ve got teeny fingers, but this thing is clinging for dear life.”

“Story of my marriage,” you muttered under your breath.

Jay snorted, caught off guard. “That’s a little dark.”

“Sorry. Reflex.”

“Don’t apologize. I laughed.” He twisted the ring again

You squeezed your eyes shut, muttering curses under your breath. Then finally, the ring came free and rolled across the counter.

You stared at your hand, red and slightly dented. “Holy crap.”

Jay laughed, shaking out the floss like he’d just defused a bomb. “Beauty is pain.”

You laughed breathlessly, cradling your hand. “I think I need a splint.”

He picked up the ring and set it gently on the towel, giving you a look that was half playful, half something else. “Now your marriage is officially over.”

You flexed your hand, laughing through the sting. “Yeah, but I think I lost circulation.”

“I’ll write you a prescription,” he said, chuckling.

“You’re a pharmacist.”

Jay shrugged. “No need for prescription then. I can just bypass the system, I guess.”

You rolled your eyes. The joke wasn’t funny, but he was endearing. Leaning your hip against the counter, you studied your finger. The faint groove where the ring had been was already fading. “That feels weird. But like, good weird. Lighter.”

Jay glanced at the ring, now sitting quietly on the towel. “Looks better off, honestly.”

You met his eyes, and for a second, the kitchen felt a little smaller. A little quieter.

“Thanks,” you said, softer now. “For doing that.”

He offered a small smile. “Anytime.”

There was a few seconds of silence before you nudged the wine bottle toward him. “Be a dear and give me a refill.”

Jay obliged, beaming as he poured you another glass. He didn’t say it out loud because he knew he sounded delusional, but he was pretty sure this counted as a date.

On a routine pickup one afternoon at school, Jay was cornered by a mom at the school gates, asking about his niece’s mom. 

“She’s at home with the baby. Her husband’s out of town so I’m on pick-up duty today.”

“Pretty sure I’ve seen you on pick-up duty every day,” the mom, Mila, quipped, smiling at his niece. “That’s a shame, I was going to have a small dinner party at home for my birthday. I was hoping she could come.”

“I’m sure she would have loved to,” Jay replied, smiling politely.

Mila was about to say something when she spotted you walking out of the gate holding hands with your son. She waved you over and you walked over with a smile that had Jay staring at you, momentarily distracted.

“Mila! Happy birthday!” you greeted, giving Mila a quick peck on the cheek.

“I texted the group chat, but you didn’t respond. You’re coming tonight, right?” said Mila, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “It’s just dinner with the regular group. Nothing fancy. Just wine and some good food.”

You nodded. “Of course. Count me in.”

Then Mila turned to Jay, who had just helped his niece buckle into her booster seat.

“You should come too,” she said, smiling warmly. “It’s a pity your sister isn’t here, but you’re welcome to join us if you like.”

Jay was slightly caught off guard. “Oh, uh... I wouldn’t want to intrude. It’s a mom thing, right?”

“Nonsense. You’re very much welcome,” Mila insisted, brushing him off like he’d just said something ridiculous. “We can be a little crazy, but we promise we won’t bite.”

Jay glanced over at you as if he was seeking out your permission. You seemed to have recognized his cue because your brow arched slightly in amusement, then you gave a casual shrug that said up to you. So he nodded. “Alright. I’d love to.”

“Excellent. No need to remove a seat, then,” said Mila.

The dinner was held at Mila’s place, a cozy house with a low-lit patio and a long table set with mismatched wine glasses and shared platters of food. The conversation was endless, aided by a few open bottles of red wine, and soon enough, Jay found himself the lone man among a lively circle of moms who had so much more in common than he could even begin to fathom.

For the first ten minutes, he felt like he was on a reality show. The Real Housewives of Suburbia, featuring one slightly panicked guest star. They were curious, but kind. Their questions flew in fast and with zero malice.

“So the pharmacy is yours alone, right? That’s impressive.”

“And the house too?” another mom asked. “For someone so young, you’re doing amazing.”

Jay chuckled shyly. “Well, I had help when I was starting out.”

“And you’re not dating anyone?” someone else chimed in, barely letting him breathe.

“Not at the moment,” he said carefully, sipping his wine. He hesitated for the briefest second, eyes finding your across the table, then he smiled. “I’ve got my eyes on someone. Just… haven’t worked up the nerve yet.”

That earned a round of swoons, some playful nudges, and exaggerated sighs.

One of the moms, already tipsy, leaned over and said, “You’ve got your eye on someone? She better not be married. Like our new girl here, finally single and free!”

You looked up mid-sip. “Sorry?”

“Oh, come on. You’re beautiful, young, finally divorced. Are you back in the game or what?”

Jay glanced at you, curious.

You set your glass down and smiled politely. “I think I’ll sit the game out for now. Right now I’m just focused on getting things in order. My son’s adjusting well, and I’d like to keep the stability going for him before I add anything new to the mix.”

There were understanding nods around the table, murmurs of approval. Still, one mom leaned in, waggling her brows. “But you have thought about it.”

You only smiled again, sipping your wine without answering.

Jay watched you quietly, your calmness, the way you dodged the question like it wasn’t the first time someone had tried to nudge you back into the dating scene. And for a second, he wondered what your answer would’ve been if the question had come from him.

After dinner, the moms trickled out in pairs and small groups, some tipsy, others still laughing and giggling. Jay stood near the front gate with his keys in hand, offering casual goodbyes as they passed. You were lingering on the porch with your arms folded, smiling at something Mila was saying, when Jay caught your eye and tilted his head toward the driveway.

“I’ll drive you?” he asked casually, then noticing the other moms added a little louder, “Anyone else need a lift?”

He’d consider it a smooth save, but he knew the other moms still picked up on it. A few exchanged looks and grins, but no one said anything. One mom, clearly not reading the room, raised her hand. “Oh! If it’s not a bother, just two blocks from here.”

“Not at all,” Jay said, unlocking his car and popping the doors open with a charming little smile. “Hop in.”

And so, his spontaneous rideshare plan took off. He dropped off the others with polite small talk and exaggerated cheer, playing the gentleman driver role perfectly. By the time the last one stepped out with a hurried thanks, the car felt quieter with just the two of you left inside.

“Where to?” he asked as he merged back onto the road.

You gave him your address, which Jay quickly memorized, plotting the route in his mind as he slowly drove back into the highway. 

Breaking the silence, you said, “The dinner was nice. Except for that dessert.”

“Not a fan of lava cake?”

You winced. “Nope. Chocolate cakes leave a really odd aftertaste in my mouth.”

Jay shrugged. “It was a tad too sweet though, I’m not gonna lie.”

“I’m sure it was good. I’m just…” you trailed off, shrugging.

He glanced at you. “Sorbet? To get the taste out?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“Why not? I know a place that’s open late.”

He wasn’t kidding. He swung by a small dessert bar on the corner and returned with two cups of lemon sorbet, one hand shielding the cold from the summer air as he climbed back in.

The car was now parked right outside your house. You ate with your knees drawn up on the seat, your sandals dangling off one foot as you stared out the windshield at the quiet street.

“This is good,” you said, savoring a bite.

“Told you.”

The conversation wandered from weird birthday cakes to the shows your son was currently obsessed with, to which neighbor always overwatered their lawn. Jay made quips here and there, some funny but most of them had you rolling your eyes in exasperation. Nevertheless, you seemed to be enjoying his company as usual.

At one point, when the laughter had subsided and there was nothing else to say, you looked at him abd said, “Jay, be honest.”

Jay hummed, scraping at the bottom of his cup.

“Do you like me?” you asked.

Jay paused mid-bite. Then he glanced over, lips twitching. “Are you drunk?”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a ‘no’?”

 “No,” he said briskly, shaking his head once. 

“No?”  you asked back, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Huh?” he asked, and you were both quiet for a second. Jay looked away, chuckling awkwardly. “No. I don’t mean to say I don’t like you. I do. You’re pretty cool.”

“Thanks,” you replied, still a little confused. “I like you too.”

Jay felt his heart pick up pace. “You do?”

You nodded casually, putting your now empty cup back into the plastic bag. “Yeah. You’re nice and funny. You’re good with kids. What’s not to like?” 

Then you mumbled, “Not to mention good-looking.”

“Sorry, what?”

You glanced up at him, feigning an innocent smile. “Nothing.”

Jay was unconvinced but he just nodded. “So…” he trailed off, deep in thought. “Wait. What’s going on right now? Are we… you know, confessing… feelings?”

“I guess,” you replied, shrugging. 

“This is not how I pictured it would happen.”

“Me neither,” you chuckled. “It’s fine, this isn’t deep or anything. I just genuinely think you’re nice and funny and…” You looked away, murmuring under your breath. “Hot.”

“I heard that.”

You glanced back at him. “You did? Heh. Well, it’s true.”

“I think you’re hot, too.”

Silence stretched between you for a second too long. Jay looked at you, his sorbet cup long forgotten in his hand. You weren’t smiling or saying anything, just watching him with a soft, unreadable expression that made his heart kick a little harder in his chest.

And then you leaned in to press a gentle, curious kiss on his lips. Jay froze for a second, startled, then kissed you back just as gently. Your mouths barely moved. Just pressed against each other’s, satisfying a curiosity you both didn’t know you even had.

You pulled away first. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your eyes lowering. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Jay blinked. “Why not?”

“I just… I wasn’t planning on—” You shook your head, voice faltering. “A relationship’s the last thing on my mind right now. I’ve got too much going on. My head’s not in the right place.”

Jay nodded slowly, his eyes still on you. “I get it,” he said. “I really do.”

You smiled faintly. “I’m not saying I don’t want this. Just…” You sighed.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jay replied, chuckling. “I just want to get to know you more. No pressure. No expectations.”

You didn’t say anything else, you just smiled, opened your door and stepped out. Jay climbed out after you, walking with to your front door. You stopped just by the porch light, and for a moment, it felt like everything slowed down again.

Jay rubbed the back of his neck. “Would it be okay if I asked to take you out sometime? You know… like a date. If that’s not too much.”

You didn’t answer with words right away. Instead, you leaned in again—this time slower, more certain—and kissed him on the lips.

Then you pulled back, hands cupping his jaw and your thumb rubbing gently against his skin. “I would love that.”

Jay couldn’t hide the satisfaction in his smile. He held your hand on his cheek and nodded. “Good night, then.”

“Good night, Jay.”

Jay didn’t jump into something right away. There were no talks or commitment, just a mutual understanding that something was beginning. Or that something had already begun and was now picking up pace.

The next time he saw you after that night, it wasn’t anything special. Just a routine playdate between Jay’s niece, your son, and a couple of other kids. He showed up at your door with takeout. You let him in.

You ate together on the couch while the kids built a fort in the next room, the two of you laughing every time someone got “shot” and screamed dramatically for help.

Later, with your feet tucked under you and half a spring roll in your hand, Jay glanced at you and said, “This feels dangerously like a date.”

You smiled without looking away from the TV. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Maybe if you give me some, it’ll feel more like a date,” Jay quipped, glancing sideways at you.

You met his gaze, scowling in confusion at whatever he meant by that. Jay simply grinned and tapped his index finger on his lips. That made you roll your eyes.

You rolled your eyes. “What are we, teenagers?”

He shrugged. “What about asking for a kiss is teenager-ish?”

You gave him a look. “Asking.”

Jay tilted his head like he was considering that. “Then should I just… not ask?”

That made you narrow your eyes at him. “How old are you?”

“What’s age got to do with anything?”

“Just tell me.”

“Twenty-five.”

Your brows furrowed. “Really?”

He chuckled. “Why? Do I look younger than that?”

“Be serious. How old are you for real?” You scooted an inch away from him on the couch.

“Old enough.”

“Jay Park,” you warned.

He held his hands up, amused. “Okay, okay. How old do you think I am?”

“Like, twenty-six. At least.”

He was, in fact, twenty-three. “Close,” he said, lips twitching.

But your suspicious glare didn’t waver. Jay sighed, raising both hands in surrender. “Fine. I’m twenty-three.”

You gasped, shot up from the couch, and covered your mouth like you’d witnessed a crime.

“What—why? What’s wrong?” Jay asked, chuckling though he was panicking.

You stared at him, completely silent. And then you placed a hand on your temple and started laughing like you were slowly losing your mind.

“Say something!” Jay said, standing to follow you. “You can’t be that much older than me.”

“Get out,” you said through your laughter, but you didn’t mean it. Jay could tell by the way you let him pull you into a hug, your body warm against his.

He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into your shoulder, playful and close. “Okay, they told me it’s rude to ask a lady her age, but how old are you?”

You rolled your eyes, but he felt you soften a little in his arms. “I had my son when I was twenty.”

Jay pulled back just enough to look at you. “Isn’t he six now?”

You nodded. He blinked. “So… twenty-six?”

“Almost twenty-seven.”

Jay grinned. “That’s not bad.” You gave him a skeptical look.

“What?” he said. “It’s like a four-year gap. That’s nothing.”

You gave a noncommittal hum but didn’t pull away. Jay counted that as a win. He sighed in relief. “This is nice.”

That made you roll your eyes and push him away. “Get away from me, kid.”

A few days later, he spotted you at the farmer’s market. He almost didn’t say anything—your hair was pulled back, and you looked calmly beautiful in a way that made his chest ache. But then your son spotted him first. 

“Uncle Jay!” he called out, waving a hand in the air. 

And that was that. He tagged along while you picked out vegetables, carried your bags, passed you napkins when your son smeared apple juice on his face. You teased him for overpaying for pears. He told you your taste in fruit was ‘objectively incorrect.’

And when the three of you sat together on a bench, quietly sharing a cinnamon roll, Jay didn’t say anything about how close your shoulders were. He didn’t dare. If he pointed it out, you might pull away, and then he wouldn’t know how to make you scoot back again.

Some nights, he texted you dumb things.

Jay: I strongly recommend some Vitamin J for you. Jay: yknow? Vitamin JAY. You: I’m blocking you. Jay: Pls don’t. I will literally cry You: You text like you’re 15 Jay: I’ll take that as a compliment Jay: Didn’t have this much game when I was 15 

On weekends, he found excuses to drop by. Sometimes it was a coffee run. Other times, it was helping your son with a diorama project, both of them hunched over cardboard and glue while you watched from the kitchen.

“Is it scientifically accurate for the T-Rex to sparkle?” Jay asked.

Your son looked serious. “Dinosaurs loved glitter.”

Jay nodded solemnly. “That tracks.”

He didn’t ask for more than you were giving. He liked the way things were unfolding in casual conversations and small glances, in the way you teased him when he stared too long and smiled absentmindedly at you.

At one point, you started handing him little tasks like picking up paper towels, grabbing snacks for the kid, helping carry folding chairs for a school event. Jay liked it. Not because he wanted credit, but because it made him feel like a part of your life in ways that felt natural.

It was like that, for a while. Gentle and organic. There were no talks about what you were or where it was going, just two people figuring it out between shared errands, porch conversations, and casual brush-of-the-hand moments. Jay didn’t push. 

One evening, you were out on your front porch with glasses of wine in hand, the air cool and quiet around you. Jay leaned against the railing, watching the way you curled your legs under yourself in that familiar spot on the porch swing.

You’d been talking for over an hour, swapping stories about bad haircuts, his old part-time jobs, and your failed employment stories. You were laughing, really laughing, and Jay found himself watching you in the porch light. The way your eyes twinkled, the lilt in your voice. It made him ache a little. Not in a sad way.

“You know,” he said, swirling what was left of his wine, “I still don’t get it.”

You looked over. “Get what?”

“You,” he said simply. “You’re smart. Kind. Thoughtful. You’re an amazing mom. You’re…” He hesitated, then just let it land. “You’re incredibly beautiful.”

You let out a soft laugh, looking away. “Okay, relax.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “I just don’t understand how someone could… fumble you. Like, how does that happen?”

The laughter left your mouth, but the smile lingered for a second before fading. You glanced down at your wine glass, turning it slightly in your hands.

“It wasn’t always bad,” you said. “Found out I was pregnant right after college and everything moved fast. We got married but it didn’t feel rushed at the time. It actually felt right.”

Jay didn’t say anything, letting you continue.

“He was loving. Supportive. Took care of me, took care of our son. We had years of what I thought was happiness. A good marriage. A stable home.” You let out a breath. “And then one day, I found out he’d been cheating on me. For years. With like dozens of women.”

You said it plainly, without drama, but Jay could feel how heavy it was when you sighed. The pain that had long since been folded and packed away.

“He was too good, actually. He never failed to show himself being the good husband, the doting dad. Said ‘I love you’ every chance he got, brought me flowers for no reason, took me on dates regularly. He was… I don’t know. Perfect.”

Jay set his glass down. He didn’t reach for you, didn’t speak right away. Just gave you space.

“He used to want to be an actor you know?” you continued, rolling your eyes. “He would’ve been really great at it. He managed to fool me for years that he was a devoted, painfully loyal husband. God, it still annoys me every time I remember how blindsided I had been.”

You looked up at him then, expecting maybe pity in his face. But there was none. Jay reached over and brushed his fingers against yours on the porch swing. 

“I’m sorry you had to experience that,” he said.

You chuckled softly. “Don’t be sorry for something you didn’t do.” You rolled your eyes and laughed. “And he was a jerk, alright? But I dropped his ass as soon as I found out. He said he had his reasons, but he was probably just gonna make excuses and pin it on me. For all I know, he was just sorry because I found out.”

Jay smiled proudly. “You did well.”

You shrugged. “I’m just glad that part of my life was over. It was a nightmare. I even had a pregnancy scare last year. We had just moved here, and it had only been like a month since I filed for divorce. Missed a period and genuinely thought I was pregnant again. It would’ve sucked because I'd be forced to stay with him.”

Jay remembered that. It was at his pharmacy that you went to buy a test kit, after all. It was then that he first met you. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since.

Soon the conversation became lighter and the night grew later. At one point, it was time for Jay to go. He had ran out of reasons to stay and he could see you were getting tired and sleepy.

You walked him to his car. “Thanks, Jay.”

Jay blinked. “For what?”

“For being here. For…” you shrugged. “Everything.”

“Don’t mention it. Anything to impress someone you like, right?” he said, defusing what would have been a serious conversation. It was not that he didn’t want serious conversations. He was just a little nervous that the grateful look in your eyes would end with you telling him you appreciated him, but couldn’t return his feelings.

Jay wasn’t the type to overthink, but he knew how to manage his expectations

You rolled your eyes and huffed a laugh. “Get out of here before I get sick of that face.”

Jay grinned, shaking his head as he pulled you into a hug. “I don’t think that’s possible. I’m under the impression that you like this face a lot.”

“Dream on, I guess,” you quipped.

He didn’t kiss you, though he wanted to. When he pulled away, he kept his hands in his pockets, nodded, and said, “Good night.”

“Good night, Jay.”

Jay didn’t hang out with his friends much. It was mainly because they lived halfway across the country or were too busy with adulthood to make time for old friends. It wasn’t really a big deal. They kept in touch, met at least once a year, and reached out to each other when needed. Jay liked his low-maintenance friends.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, was the opposite. He always checked in on them, always the one who made plans to meet, always the main reason the friend group was even alive. And naturally, since Jay and he were practically neighbors, Sunghoon always made sure they saw each other at least twice a week.

“What’s the score?”

“97 and 80. Your team’s toast,” Jay replied, leaning back on his couch, eyes fixed on the basketball game they were watching on his TV.

Sunghoon chuckled. “Not the game. I meant with you and the single mom.”

Jay scowled at his friend. “She has a name.”

“Yeah, I know, sorry,” said Sunghoon, hands raised in surrender. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.”

Jay didn’t say anything, just grabbed his bottle of beer and took a swig, his frown still in place. Sunghoon watched him for a few seconds before carefully broaching the subject again.

“So?”

Jay sighed. “We’re fine. We’re hanging out, going on dates. Having fun.”

“Is it serious?”

“I don’t know, man,” Jay replied honestly. “I think she likes me too, but I don’t think she’s… fully here. You know, emotionally.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “I mean, can you blame her? She just got divorced, and she has a kid. Getting into another relationship is probably the last thing on her mind right now.”

Jay leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m taking my time.”

Sunghoon shook his head with a grin. “Man, you really have a thing for wounded older women with pretty eyes and emotional baggage, don’t you?”

Jay didn’t flinch. “She’s not broken,” he said, not harshly, just quietly. “She’s doing good and she’s perfect just the way she is.”

Sunghoon blinked. “Damn, bro. You’re down bad.”

The next day, Jay went to pick up his niece at school and say hi to you. He knew he could just text you to say ‘hi’, but nothing beats seeing you in person. 

He stood near the fence, waiting for the school bell to ring, when he caught sight of a familiar group gathered near the benches—a circle of moms you were friends with. You were there too, and the sight of you made Jay grin from ear to ear.

Damn. Sunghoon was right. He was down bad for you, and frankly? It was getting a little embarrassing.

Jay shook his head at himself, chiding himself as he approached your circle. He stopped when he heard his name pop up.

“I knew he liked you,” Mila said, chuckling. “What guy would hang out with a bunch of moms for no reason? I mean, it’s not like he could talk to us about homemade croutons or loose baby teeth.”

They laughed while you looked down at your hands with your cheeks burning and a shy but unmistakable smile on your lips.

“He’s so young, though,” another mom commented. “Not that it’s bad. You’re pretty young, yourself.”

One mom snickered playfully. “Does it matter? Jay doesn’t seem to mind the gap at all. And, honey, let me tell you about them young men—”

“Oh my, God. Stop!” another mom chided, discouraging the subject when she noticed Jay approaching.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks but keep smiling as your mom friends quickly scattered, shooting you quick knowing looks as Jay came closer.

“Hey,” Jay said, smiling as if he didn’t just catch them gossiping.

You tried your best to smile normally. “Hey.”

“Am I wrong to think I’m pretty famous among your mom friends?”

You laughed, tilting your head. “Don’t let it get to your head. Moms have short attention spans.”

“Really?” he asked, genuinely curious. That made you laugh again.

“Of course, not.” 

Jay grinned, then reached for the sleeve of your jacket, brushing some lint off it absently. 

You gave him a look. “See that? That’s why you’re the subject of moms’ gossip.”

Jay rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, and he didn’t let go of your sleeve right away. Not long after, your son came running out of the gate, and you welcomed him with a big hug and a peck on his forehead.

“How was your day?”

“Amazing! The teacher brought a volcano into class today!”

Your eyes glimmered as you smiled. “Oh, that is amazing. How did she do that?”

Jay was watching fondly when he heard his niece call out to him. He glanced at the gates, waving a hand and beckoning the child over. You exchanged pleasantries and a quick chat before Jay offered to walk you to your car.

“See you, Monday, big guy,” Jay said to your son, giving him a high-five before turning to you with a smile. “See you, pretty.”

You scoffed, trying to downplay how it made your stomach flutter. “See you around, Jay.”

Jay gave one last wave before stepping back from the car, watching you turn your engine on and start to drive. But you didn’t leave right away, instead, you rolled your window down and called him over again.

“What’s up?” he asked.

You couldn’t look him in the eyes, but Jay caught the way you swallowed nervously as you tucked your hair behind your ear. “Do you wanna… come over Friday night?”

Jay blinked. Did he hear that right?

“My son’s got a sleepover with a couple of his friends. I’ll be at home, making dinner. I was wondering if you’d like to join me.”

Jay’s heart did this little flip in his chest. This was something entirely new to him. You’d never made a move on him before, never made plans first. Now you’re inviting him over for dinner?

“Like a date?”

For a second, something flashed in your eyes that made Jay think you were about to take it back. But you didn’t. You just looked away, scowling like this was hard for you to say.

“Yes,” you said begrudgingly. “Like a date.”

Jay tilted his head, grinning mischievously. “Why are you saying it like you don’t mean it?”

“Forget it,” you grumbled, rolling your windows up.

“No, no, wait!” Jay tapped on your window just before it completely closed. “Yes. I’ll go. I’d love that. I’ll even wear a tie.”

You rolled your windows back down, glaring at him but unable to control your smile. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Yeah? Well,” he said, shrugging. “You’re cute when you get all shy like that.

You leaned your head on the backrest and sighed. “Go away before I change my mind.”

Jay was quick to move away from your car. “Yes, ma’am.”

You grabbed the steering wheel, glancing at him again and saying, “I’ll text you.”

“Looking forward to it!”

You nodded, cheeks still blushing, and you went your separate ways. Jay walked to his car with his chest a little lighter, already thinking about what Friday night might mean.

Jay showed up at your door at seven that Friday night. On the dot, not even a minute late.

No tie, but he wore a navy blue coat over a crisp, white button-down. His hair was styled, not too polished, but enough to show he’d put in effort. He had wine in one hand and a smug little grin.

“Wow,” you said, leaning on the doorframe. “Didn’t I say I was making dinner?”

“You did,” he replied, stepping inside as you held the door open. “And I put on a jacket for it. I’d feel severely overdressed if you’re feeding me grilled cheese.”

You laughed, closing the door behind him. “About that…”

Jay turned to look at you, narrowing his eyes. “What?”

You took a deep breath and said, “I thought about it and realized—I’ve never actually tasted your cooking. You talk a lot about it, but I have zero proof you’re not just making things up.”

He stared at you for a few seconds, recognizing the mischief in your smile and the twinkle in your eyes. “But this is Prada,” he quipped, pointing to his coat.

You clasped your hands together and let out an exaggerated gasp. “Really? So was my lip balm! Come on!”

Jay dropped his head back as you grabbed his hand and led him into your brightly lit kitchen. “How good can you make steak?”

“Good?” he smirked. “I make the most amazing steak and not break a sweat.”

“Uh-huh. Impressive,” you deadpanned, stopping in front of the countertop where ingredients were waiting for Jay.

He gave the countertop one sweeping gaze before sighing and shrugging off his coat. You offered to put it away, and he watched you cross the hall with grace, disappearing into the living room as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

By the time you returned, he already had an apron in hand.

“You conned me,” he said, slipping it on. “But I’m gonna let it slide because I don’t play when it comes to my cooking.”

You giggled, grabbing your own apron. Jay stepped behind you, wordlessly taking the ribbons from your hands. His fingers brushed your waist, then lingered for a moment as he tied the knot. You gathered your hair, and he caught the faint scent of your perfume—soft, floral, familiar. The curve of your neck made his mouth go dry, and suddenly, he was nervous about the fact that there was only you and him in this house right now.

He cleared his throat, a half-smile forming. When he was done, he placed both hands lightly on your shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You glanced back at him, surprised but not displeased.

He held your gaze, smiling. “And also because you look amazing tonight.”

You rolled your eyes at his compliment but couldn’t help smiling. “Flattery’s not gonna get you out of making the steak.”

Jay grinned. “Wasn’t trying to get out of it. Just setting the mood for the night.”

Jay got to work, moving around your kitchen like it was second nature. You handed him utensils when he asked, refilled his glass without being prompted, and watched as he expertly diced garlic, tossed ingredients into a pan, and swirled them with a flick of his wrist. He tasted the sauce, frowned, added a splash of something, tasted it again, then smiled in satisfaction.

“You always this smug when you cook?”

“I’m not smug. I’m confident,” he said, smirking shamelessly. “Cooking’s my therapy. And it’s also how I assert dominance.”

You snorted. “Oh, wow. Color me impressed,” you said sarcastically.

At one point, you tried to reach for the tongs while he was sautéing garlic for the butter. Jay swatted your hand away gently, not even looking up. “You said you wanted to try my cooking, not ruin it.”

You gaped at him, laughing. “Wow. You’re so lucky I like you.”

He finally glanced over with a boyish smirk. “You like me?”

You pretended to groan. “Not for much longer.”

“Too late. I’m about to steal your heart with the best damn steak you’ve had in your life. You’ll be in too deep to back out.”

You leaned against the counter, chin resting in your palm as you watched him melt butter and swirl in the garlic, rosemary, and thyme. The sizzle filled the kitchen, along with the warm scent of herbs and richness. It smelled like something out of a cozy restaurant.

Jay caught your expression and smirked. “See? I told you.”

You chuckled. “Are you cooking to make food or to impress me?”

“How about both?”

It was true. Jay was thriving under the praise. Every time you made a noise of appreciation or leaned in to ask, “What is that you’re adding?”, he lit up just a little more. The more you complimented him, the more he showed off. He angled the skillet toward you to let you smell the browning butter, showed you the trick to checking the steak’s doneness with the press of a finger, and even flicked a bit of salt at you just to make you laugh.

It worked.

Dinner didn’t drag. In fact, it barely felt like a full meal had passed. You ate at the kitchen island with your stools pulled close, sharing bites off each other’s plates and laughing through most of it, especially when you dramatically insisted on plating the sides like a five-star chef and then immediately spilled the garnish. He kept joking that he was gonna post a review.

By the time you made it to the couch, the plates were in the sink and the lights were dimmed, leaving only the soft, amber glow of a lamp nearby.

Jay sank into the cushions first, two fresh glasses of wine in hand, his shirt now a little rumpled from cooking—and two buttons undone at the top. You probably didn’t even notice when that happened. Or maybe you did and just pretended not to.

You curled up next to him, barefoot now, wine in hand. Your legs folded beneath you, your head eventually resting on his shoulder as the minutes passed and the buzz in your veins mellowed everything out.

“This is nice,” you murmured, fingertips brushing the hem of his sleeve.

Jay glanced down, amused. “The wine or the company?”

You let out a small laugh. “The wine’s good.”

“Well, I brought it, so I’ll take that as a win.”

You nudged your shoulder into his chest, but you were smiling. “You know I mean both.”

He hummed, satisfied, his arm settling comfortably around you. It was warm there, the kind of warmth that made it feel like the night could stretch on forever. You stayed quiet for a bit, your head nestled against his chest, right where you could feel the subtle beat of his heart. It was steady. Comfortable. 

You talked about nothing for a while. Your son’s latest obsession with volcanoes. Jay’s niece and her newfound fear of ladybugs. The way old friends would drop off the radar then suddenly reappear with three kids and a golden retriever. All random stuff. Comfortable stuff.

You were warm and laughing. He liked hearing you laugh like that, relaxed and unguarded, a little sleepy from food and wine.

But then the mood shifted just slightly. There was a pause, a second longer than usual, and then you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Jay?”

Jay glanced down to meet your eyes. “Yeah?”

“Why do you like me?” You asked it softly, almost like you regretted it the second the words came out.

“I mean—really. I’m divorced. I’ve got a kid. I’m older than you. Not by a lot, but enough. Meanwhile, you’re…” You gestured vaguely at him. “You’re you. Handsome and young and sweet and patient. You could be with anyone.”

You looked down at your wine glass, twisting it slightly in your hand, like you were bracing for some kind of gently-worded pity.

But all he said was, “I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

You looked back at him, searching his face for more.

Jay sat up a little, just enough so he could look at you properly. “I don’t need some checklist version of perfect,” he said gently. “I don’t even know what a perfect woman is. I just know I like you.”

He reached out and took the wine glass from your hands, setting it aside on the coffee table. Then he cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb across your skin. “You’re smart. You’re funny when you’re not trying to be. You make me nervous sometimes, in the best way. And watching you with your kid? That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at him, like maybe you weren’t used to hearing things that simple and kind without a catch. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came.

Jay leaned in and kissed your forehead. “So don’t talk about yourself like you’re anything less than that.”

You exhaled, then you nodded, pressing your face back into his chest like you didn’t want him to see the look on your face. He held you a little closer, resting his cheek against the top of your head, and you stayed there like that.

“I think this is the part where I tell you that I like you too,” you said softly, but Jay heard every single word.

He glanced down at you and you looked up at him with a shy smile. You stared at each other for a while, then he leaned in slowly, giving you every second to pull away. But you didn’t. You tilted your face up to meet his, and your lips touched his with a softness that almost knocked the breath out of him.

When he pulled away, you reached up to cup his face. Jay kissed you again, this time longer. His hand slid to the nape of your neck, his thumb brushing behind your ear as he deepened it. When he felt your fingers slide over the open buttons of his shirt, resting on the warm skin underneath, he exhaled a shaky breath against your mouth.

“You sure?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded and that made him smile before he caught your mouth in another kiss. His hands roamed up your sides, under your shirt, across skin he’d only brushed in passing before. You were warm and soft beneath him, sighing against his mouth as he slipped his tongue between your lips, coaxing yours into something wetter, deeper, and hungrier.

Your dress came off in the blur between one kiss and the next, and then he was kissing down your neck, sucking gently at the base of your throat, hands on your breasts like he’d been dying to touch you. You gasped when his thumbs brushed over your nipples, hips instinctively bucking forward against him.

“Still with me?” he rasped.

You nodded. “Don’t stop.”

He slipped his hand into your shorts, fingers finding you slick and ready, and the way you moaned needily when he pressed went straight to his spine. He worked you slowly, mouth never leaving your skin. He kept his free hand on your hip as you parted your thighs for him. And you tried to stay quiet. Biting your lip and holding your breath to stifle your moans. Jay noticed that.

“No one’s home, love,” he whispered against your jaw, in between the small kisses he was planting on your skin. “You don’t have to hold it in.”

For you, that was persuasive enough. You cried out softly when he slid two fingers inside you. Your head fell back against the couch, lips parted, pussy pulsing around his fingers as he coaxed you closer into an orgasm.

His mouth around your nipple was making you lose your mind and it wasn’t long before you trembled underneath her and came with a sharp gasp.

Jay kissed you through it, slowly and tenderly. You snaked your hand under his shirt, undoing the buttons one by one. And when Jay pulled away for a second to tug it off, you placed a hand on his chest to stop him from kissing you again.

“Bedroom,” you said.

That one word was sentence enough for Jay. He rose to his feet, lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing and walked briskly toward the staircases. You pointed to your bedroom and he made it there in a flash. He laid you down like he was handling something precious, but the look in his eyes was anything but patient.

“Can you believe this is happening?” he asked, tucking a few strands of hair behind your eyes.

You didn’t say anything. You just opened your legs for him without shame, without hesitation. Jay got rid of the last articles of clothing he had on and jumped into bed. Then he slid inside you slow, eyes locked on your as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and your thighs around his hips.

You clenched around him with a soft cry—and Jay had to bury his face in your neck just to keep himself together. You were warm, tight, perfect around him, and he moved in a rhythm that was more reverent than rough, more worship than want.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You feel so good.”

You moaned softly, fingers digging into his back. “Keep going, Jay.”

That broke something in him—self restraint. He moved faster and steadier, hips slamming against yours delightfully. You clung to him, gasping his name as he fucked you deep and steady, pace growing rougher with each thrust, like weeks of tension were pouring out of him all at once.

You didn’t bother holding back. You cried out, loud and shameless, each sound feeding the fire between you. He kissed you again, swallowing your moans, one hand gripping your thigh, the other tangled in your hair.

“Oh, fuck, I needed this,” he whispered, panting against your lips as he continued his relentless thrusts.

“Oh, Jay.”

You came first—hard and fast, legs tightening around his waist as your cunt clenched tight around him, making him cum too. His hips stuttered, and he spilled inside you with a guttural moan, burying his face in you neck as you both lost your mind in the titillating euphoria brought about by the passion between you.

After a long moment, Jay fell onto the bed beside you, then pulled you closer to himi. Your head rested on his chest.

“Was that supposed to happen?” he asked, his voice still a little raspy.

“Absolutely not,” you chuckled, wrapping an arm around his torso. “Not without a condom, anyway.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

You shrugged. “It’s fine, I guess. I’m on birth control.”

Jay let out a quiet laugh. “Right. You picked them up regularly at the pharmacy.”

You pulled away just enough to glare at him. “Okay, I’m switching to another drugstore. Having you keep track of things like that is a little creepy.”

Jay smirked and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re only complaining about it now? Really? Right when I’ve seen everything there is to see?”

You slapped his chest, but didn’t argue. He hugged you tighter and you stayed like that for a few minutes more before you sat up with a sigh. Jaay propped himself up on his elbow, watching you blink sleepily.

“Bathroom?” he asked and you nodded.

He sat up on the bed and moved to press a kiss on your forehead before gently tugging you out of the bedroom.

The sound of water filled the bathroom as Jay adjusted the temperature in the tub. You were already curled in the basin, knees folded to your chest, chin resting on them while warm water wrapped around your skin. He climbed in behind you and pulled you between his legs, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Too hot?” he murmured near your ear.

You shook your head and let your body relax into him. The heat, the scent of your soap, the feel of his chest behind your back, all of it made you feel like you were floating.

He pressed a soft kiss to your damp shoulder. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About us? I keep thinking about my boy. What am I gonna tell him?”

Jay was quiet for a second. Then he said, “You tell him whatever you’re ready to tell him. I’ll follow your lead.”

You rested your head against his collarbone, comforted by how safe it felt. “Don’t follow my lead. I’m not good at this. I haven’t done this before. Dating as a single mom.”

“I know,” he said softly, chuckling. “But you’re forgetting that I haven’t done this before either.”

“Really?” you teased, glancing back at him. “Good to know. I had my suspicions that you liked older single moms.”

Jay laughed, and you felt the vibration of it through his chest. “Where did that even come from?”

You didn’t say anything, just giggled and shrugged. Then you turned your hand palm-up in the water, and Jay’s fingers intertwined with yours like they belonged there. You squeezed once, and he squeezed back.

“I’m not in a rush,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “Don’t worry about me.”

You nodded, comforted by his understanding. After a while, Jay chuckled. “Can’t believe I dressed up for dinner just to end up cooking and sitting naked in a bathtub.”

You snorted. “Feel free to leave if you hate it.”

He grinned into your shoulder. “Be honest. You conned me into cooking and sleeping with you, didn’t you?”

“In your dreams, Jay,” you scoffed, trying to shrug him off. He didn’t budge.

“It’s okay, love. I like it. You can con me every day, I won’t complain,” he said, smug.

“Oh, shut up!” you chided, recoiling when his chin tickled your neck.

He didn’t know what the next day would bring—or the next week, or month. But for the first time in a long time, Jay had something he wanted to hold on to. Something he wanted to last.

You.

[fin]