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jillsandwhichs · 3 months ago

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Forced to love you

Chapter 11 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You've been forced into an arranged marriage with Mr. Miller, a rich businessman, also known for being a bit cold and straight forward. Neither of you wanted this but you suppose you two will make it work somehow

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Married

WC: 4.0k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Smut - Making out, Dirty talk, Oral (Both receive), Overstimulation, Spanking, Protected P in V, Doggy style, Hair pulling, Choking, Clit rubbing, You both finish, Slight aftercare

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Placing your purse down on the marble counter, you took in the large cliff side mansion you're inside of right now. The large window panels all along the kitchen wall display the beautiful bodies of water and all of the colorful homes surrounding it. Greece is really such a beautiful place - you just wish you weren't here on these terms. The terms of a honeymoon you didn't even want.

Oh but father & mother dearest know best, right? At least they think they do. Having you merge with another wealthy family is just their way of further building their empire. Of course, you have received the short end of the stick, again, being forced to marry Joel Miller - a wealthy business man with a broody attitude about him.

Speaking of, you turned around to see him carrying in your suitcases. He set them down and looked up at you. You looked away, gazing back out at the water, admiring how it glistened and called out to you. "Your father called me while I was outside, he wants to know how you're doing, so I suggest you call him soon." "Will do." "We are also to have dinner tonight, your father made us reservations in town, so dress up and look pretty."

You scoffed and looked down at what you're already wearing. It's a peachy pink flowy dress that goes down to just above your ankles. It pair with it, you're wearing sandals that your mother gifted you for your birthday a few months back. "Do I not look pretty right now." You couldn't care less if he finds you attractive or not, but seriously? This outfit is it. "You do. My apologies. Wear that then." Joel stated.

Admittedly, you blushed a little bit.

You didn't want to marry Joel, hell, you want to divorce him this instant, but he isn't the worst man. Earlier today, before the ceremony, Joel had told you he'd respect you and be there for you, which came as a surprise. Everyone told you he was an asshole who was all about work & money. Maybe he is, but he's been decent to you so far. It better remain that way.

"What time are the reservations?" "For six until seven. It's as a restaurant in the city, it's beautiful so don't worry, it'll be to your taste." "Do you think I'm some spoiled brat or something?" "Yeah." The audacity! You rolled your eyes and he smirked. "Don't roll your eyes at me." "Or what?" "You'll find out if you do it again." "Whatever." You turned back to face the windows. "I'm going to unpack my things, I advise you do the same soon." Joel said before walking off into the bedroom of the mansion - the singular one there is.

It's late now. Nearly 7:30 at night. You two had dinner and it was nice. Your father had made the reservations in hopes of you and Joel getting to know one another better - and you did. He does seemingly care about his work and his money but it surely isn't his life. Still, you're keeping him at bay. You're sure the two of you will be cheating on each other and despising one another in no time!

Joel is currently in the shower, you're in the room just outside of it. The bedroom is nice, it came with complimentary essentials and honestly anything you'd need for a week in Greece. You're originally from the U.S, Joel too, but your mother had you pick between either going to Spain or Greece and of course, Greece it was. That was literally the only thing you had say in when it came to your wedding, sadly.

Looking through the nighttime attire your mother packed for you to wear, you soon came to realize a theme. Literally everything is revealing. You scoffed and groaned loudly, all of the city could probably hear it. The most modest piece of attire that was packed is a short lenghted silky nightgown. The base color is pink with a lacy white trim. It's cute, but your mother obviously wants you and Joel to connect in more ways than one.

You have to work with what you have though.

You took off the clothes you were currently wearing and threw them into the basket on the other side of the room. Of course, you kept your panties on but removed your bralette - you shouldn't wear those to bed. The nightgown is comfortable. Soft & cozy. Glancing in the mirror, you smiled. You feel pretty. The sound of the shower turning off was heard and you sighed softly. Guess that's all the alone time you'll be getting.

Joel isn't a bad guy. You two just... Aren't made for one another. This is truly depressing.

Climbing into bed, you tucked yourself beneath the covers and grabbed the remote off of the bedside table. You told your father that if anything, you'll need a suite with a TV - it'll take your mind off of things. You doom scrolled through different channels until you settled on one with a cooking show. Not the best option, but it is distracting enough. As your eyes were casted upon the television, Joel walked out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist.

You were quick to look away. Admittedly, you felt wrong when looking. However, your brain is totally working against you. There's no denying he's an attractive man, because he is. You even said that to him. Attraction isn't the point though. He grabbed a pair of pajamas and began to change but in a way so you couldn't see, thank the Lord. At least he has decency!

When he was done, Joel ambled back into the room and over to the bed, where you were lying down. "Want me to take a different room? I'm sure the couch is comfortable enough." He said softly, just trying to get this ordeal done and over with. That's harsh. You won't do that to him. "No Joel, that's alright. If we're to be married for life, we better get used to this lifestyle." You snorted with sarcasm, scooching over on the bed to provide him with some room.

He nodded and sat down, running his hand through his damp hair. You couldn't help yourself - you gazed at him. Wow, he cleans up nicely. Too bad this marriage was an arranged one. You sighed deeply and he noticed. "You good?" "I'm fine. Just tired." You said softly, nestling your head against the pillows. He nodded in agreement. "Yeah, me too." He laid back and shut his lamp off, but you left yours on.

"Going to bed already?" "Trying to." He said in a deep voice, "Mind turning that TV off?" Ugh. "Not at all." You shut it off and laid back just as he did. Well, this is awkward. You're laying in bed with a man you met today, married and had dinner with. What a fucking shit show. You rolled over to face him and his eyes were already on you. Behind the bed frame is a large window, the moonlight casted down onto you two, specifically you & your face. It's pleasant, honestly.

Joel sighed deeply before clearing his throat. "You know, for what it is worth," he looked into your eyes, "I don't think you're half bad." He chuckled and looked down. You giggled and nodded. "Everyone said you were an asshole, I'll admit, I was nervous to meet you." "Eh, I definitely am an ass but to my now wife, I won't be. I can't be." He mumbled and looked back up at you, his eyes stark & piercing, making you feel a certain type of way.

That made you smile. This man isn't so bad after all. You know he'll make a good friend. Hopefully you two can sort out being with other people later, it'll be for the best. You sighed softly and viewed into his eyes once again, this time they were more gentle and kind. How sweet. "Is everything okay?" You whispered, biting your lower lip. "Of course." He nodded. "By the way," Joel smirked and looked you up and down, "that nightgown suits you well." He murmured.

That made you blush, truly. How kind of him to say. You thought the same thing. "Doesn't it? I like it a lot... Yeah, unfortunately, mother dearest only packed me... Sexual attire... So..." You snorted. "Well, that ain't so bad..." Joel said in his normal voice. "What do you mean?" "Uh," he chuckled and broke eye contact, "Nothing sweetheart, ignore me."

Sweetheart? He's calling you names now? It made your stomach heat up. You slowly nudged closer to him without even realizing it. "Sweetheart? Admittedly, I like that." You giggled and you were now closer to him, so close you could feel the warmth emitting from his jacked build. "Hah," Joel laughed, "Figured you would." His laugh is... Adorable. That laugh coming from a big burly man is the cutest thing.

Maybe you could learn to... You don't know, care for this man in more ways than one?

Joel gandered back up at you, his gaze back to that starkish glaring one but this time, there was something more in those brown eyes of his. Something of adrenaline and/or ecstasy. It made you get slightly shy, really. "Joel?-" you were instantly cut off by his lips pressing to yours in a manner you didn't expect. You moaned immediately and encased your arms around his neck, Joel quickly rushing to get on top of you.

His hands pinned yours above your head and his lips rapidly moved with yours. This escalated so fast. You can't even think straight. "Wait, wait," you kissed him back and smiled, his hands holding your wrists firmly. "Hmm?" He muttered out, beginning to kiss your neck side crazily, his lips all over, leaving marks and presses. "This is totally shocking, are we gonna?-" "Am I going to fuck you? Only if you want me to."

God damnit, why did him saying that turn you on? You're a virgin. The most you've done is suck a guy off and it was terribly embarrassing. "So, do you want me to?" Joel added, stopping his kisses and awaiting an answer. Do you? This man is your husband, yes, but only as of today. You feel nervous. "I..." "Yes or no? I won't be upset." He whispered softly, his lips so soft against your neck.

"Yes."

It came out so smoothly & simply, as if this was meant to happen. "That'a girl." Joel smirked against your neck before kissing your lips again and slipping his tongue into your mouth, allowing it to intertwine with yours. It felt good. He makes you feel good. Unfortunately, this is a battle of Lust vs Love and lust is heavily taking over. Either way though, you're too deep now to back out and really, you don't even want to. You want him to take your purity - he is your life long partner now.

As the two of you kissed, it was a heated one. You haven't kissed someone in such a long time, you forgot how exciting it is. His hand trailed down to his shirt before he took it off, throwing it on the floor beside the bed. You took your chance to feel up on him, touching his chest and his lower abdomen area. You felt his V line and it is so prominent - that really turns you on. Joel is sexy. Maybe him railing you won't be so bad...

He smiled as you felt him. You touched all over his torso area. He's built and he's built well. "Can you do something for me?" He whispered into your small ear before kissing it gently. "Mhm." You whimpered out. "Have you ever given a man a blowjob before." He pulled away and smirked. Oh, you know where this is going. "A long time ago, yes." "Hmm," Joel smiled and kissed your forehead. "Wanna do that for me?" He asked you, so kindly. "I do." You nodded. You do.

Joel nodded and adjusted his seating position. Now he was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard. Perfect positioning for you to make him all sorts of dumb. You smiled and pulled your hair back, ensuring it won't get in the way. He is wearing a light pair of sweatpants, some that'll come off rather easily. The imprinting of his hard cock is noticeable. You're practically drooling at this point.

You pulled him out of his pants, a slight bit of pre cum lies right on his tip. So hot. So sexy. You bit your lower lip before wettenening them, overall just preparing yourself. "You'll do so good baby." Baby... Oh fuck, that's so hot. You smiled and leaned down before quickly wrapping your lips around the head of his dick, just testing the waters. Joel was haste to seeth and let out a faint grunt. "Oh yeah, this is gonna be good." He murmured to himself.

Then and there, you started to suck his cock. He's hard, rock hard. The first guy you ever blew wasn't like this. In a way, you're glad Joel is this turned on, it shows that maybe this isn't just a lustful thing for him. But what do you know? It probably is. I mean, you two will eventually have sex, especially if he doesn't agree to the affair orders. Enough of that though, you just wanna focus on pleasuring him right now.

You swirled your tongue all along his cock, from the base to the tip, all over. Joel simply watched you in awe. There's no denying your beauty and watching you of all people give him a blowjob, he's under your spell. You used your hand to jerk the spots you weren't focusing on as you licked his tip. His pre cum was slightly thick and it had a sweet taste to it. God, you want to swallow his semen terribly.

You closed your eyes as you moved your head faster, suckling his cock as quickly and perfectly as you could. "Fuck, that feels so good." Joel moaned and his hand now rested on the back of your head. "Good girl, fuck." He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. You're like a witch, winding him under your seduction. He pushed your head down slightly, forcing you to take his dick deeper into your mouth.

After a little while longer, he twitched in your mouth and that's how you knew he was just about to finish. You took the opportunity to shove your head all the way down, his tip hitting your throat and your eyes as watery as ever - and it worked. "Christ, oh fuck." Joel gasped out as he came deep into your throat, his sweet cum seeping into your mouth until you swallowed it all. Joel snickered and gazed at you in surprise.

"Holy fuck, you got a mouth on you." You giggled at his words. "So I've been told." You smiled. "Yeah? Come here." He grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap. You laughed and kissed him, your lips locking with his. He breathed in deeply as you kissed him. Your kisses are full of ecstasy and need. "I want you to ride my face." He stated in between kisses. God. That's just what you need.

Once again, he fixed his seating position and this time, laid all the way back until his head was on the pillow. "I've never done this before." "You don't got anything to worry about, I'll be doing all the work. You just sit on my face and relax." The way he talks is so attractive, really. You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Okay then." You took off your panties and threw them on the ground beside his shirt from earlier. "Now c'mere."

Listening, you climbed over his body and over to his face. His hands held onto your thighs and he pulled you down. You felt the slight prickle from his beard on your area and you sighed deeply. You know Joel will take good care of you. "Just take it baby." Was all he said before he then began to feast upon you. This isn't how you expected it to feel. It feels amazing. Joel really knows what he's doing. "Oh Jesus Christ." Your head was already tossed back.

His tounge was clearly all over your pussy, your so very wet pussy. You moaned loudly and held onto the headboard. It definitely feels a bit awkward & unhinged but fuck, Joel is just going at it, how can you not just allow it? "That feels so fucking amazing." You laughed and looked down. His eyes were closed. He's in the moment. All he wants to do is please you and to taste you and God, you taste heavenly.

Gripping the bedframe, you began to slowly grind your cunt against his face. You can't help yourself, it feels too good. "Oh Joel." You moaned softly, your body shaking faintly. His hands held onto your thighs, he was literally gripping them with force. His tongue protruded at your hole, sticking it in and out of it quickly before going back to suckling on your pulsing clit. You're so wet. You're so fucking horny.

This is not how you expected tonight to go.

"I feel like..." God, you haven't felt this in a good bit. It's only when you're touching yourself that you do. "Cum for me sweetheart." He detached from your pussy only for a moment and just to say that. "Oh fuck!" Your body shook and your eyes squeezed shut as you came. Joel didn't stop. He sucked and licked all over as you came. It was so overstimulating. "Oh, fuck, stop, stop!" You yelled out and he was detached just like that.

You got off of his face and giggled loudly, looking at him as you caught your breath. "That was great." You snickered and layed back. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." He smiled and leaned over, kissing your cheek, then your pretty pink lips. "I still want you." You swathed your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He smiled into the kiss and nodded. "Here." He pulled away from the kiss and flipped you over, landing you on your stomach and pulling your ass up.

Doggy style, hmm, okay.

You giggled and rubbed your rear along his manhood, causing him to get hard all over again. "Dirty girl." He murmured before spanking you, causing you to moan loudly. You didn't expect that. You guess this man is kinky. "Are you a virgin?" He whispered into your ear before kissing behind it. "I am." "Okay baby, I'll be gentle." He said in a soft tone before pulling back behind you. He pulled his pants down, then lifted your nightgown up, revealing your bare ass to him.

Joel reached over and grabbed a condom from the drawer. There were some in the bathroom too. Honeymoon suites do not mess around. He slipped it over his hard cock and looked back down at you. "If it hurts at all, just tell me." "Okay." You nodded and smiled, looking straight ahead as you waited for him. Within that minute, he stuck himself inside of you, slowly and passionately. You moaned and felt your insides tighten at the sudden feeling.

"Loosen up baby, it'll feel better." You had to calm yourself down. You're suddenly nervous and a bit on edge. "Want me to stop?" "No, please no." You said softly, holding onto the bedsheets below you. "Just be gentle." "Of course." Joel responded. He began to move but his strokes were subtle and gentle. He doesn't want to hurt you. "You feel so good." He said in a deep voice, pushing himself in and out of you.

It's a whole new sensation. It feels like a delicacy. Goodness, it's great. "It does feel nice." You giggled and nuzzled your head against the bed, just letting loose and allowing Joel to make the most out of this expirence. "You're so beautiful." He whispered before his movements picked up, but barely. He just wants you to be okay. "Just like that." You moaned out and closed your eyes, now just relishing in the feeling of him within you.

A little bit after you entirely adjusted to him, his hips rocked against your ass a bit quicker now. The feeling was exquisite. You've never felt this way before. "So fucking tight, Jesus Christ." Joel grunted as he fucked you, his dick going into you at a pace in which was perfect, it was magnificent. "Joel!" You moaned and attempted to lift your head up and as you tried, he shoved you back down, his hand going to the back of your neck to keep you in place.

Oh, you liked that. It was sudden but very arousing.

As he slammed into you now, his pace not gentle as it was, all you could do was take it. Like this, it is even better, you just needed a minute to adjust. "Maybe this marriage won't be so bad." You giggled out to Joel and he smiled, though you couldn't see it. "That's what I like to hear." He spanked you again and this time, your back arched even more. This is amazing. You really didn't think this would happen but wow, what an outcome it is.

Joel's hand trailed up into your hair and somehow, you knew what he'd do because before you knew it, he was pulling on it. Your head was being pulled back roughly but the pain mixed with the pleasure was perfect. You moaned loudly and held your breath as he fucked you, hard. Him pulling on your hair, fucking you and talking to you all at once was too much.

"I'm gonna cum again." You moaned out, closing your eyes. "Cum for me sweetheart." He whispered before reaching over and holding onto not only your hair, but now your neck. He lifted you up until your back was against his front. His hand was now around your neck and his other around your stomach, holding you close. This is it. You moaned softly as you felt his plunge into you a few more times until he ultimately came first, which then caused your undoing.

As you came, he caressed your clit with haste and your body shook, even more than it did with your first orgasm. "God, you take it so well." Joel grunted as he kissed behind your ear whilst rubbing your nub and pushing himself into you. There were so many feelings all at once, it was amazing. You giggled and bit your lip, closing your eyes and simply intaking the enjoyable & pleasurable moment.

Coming down from your high and snapping back into reality, Joel pulled out of you with a chuckle and you two laid down on the bed together. He took off the condom and set it on the table; He can throw it away later. "So..." You began with a faint giggle and Joel bellowed. "You were amazing." He leaned over and kissed your forehead. "Are you okay? Did I break ya?" He joked. You nodded. "Yes to both." He laughed at your sentence.

"I feel so..." "Hmm?" "Good." You giggled and spun over to face him. "Let's do it again!" You climbed on top of him and he laughed out, holding your hips. "Let's do it then."

#joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #tumblr fyp

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omgfangirlland · 4 months ago

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The Shadows That Nurture 11

Ch 12 is done and I'm kinda foaming at the mouth to give it to y'all- but I need to wait to finish ch 13-

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 11 >>next

Finding The Immortal was harder than expected but you weren’t surprised. Cecil worked The Guardians to the bone, you were sure. Nevertheless, you found him in the end, quickly flying next to him to greet him.

Surprised, the man looked at you before giving a small, weary smile while greeting you back. “This may sound crazy and like I’m digging into your life, and I understand if you don’t wish to speak about it, but I really need-“ You stopped as soon as he grabbed your shoulders, making you both stop midair and face each other. “It’s okay, take a breath.”

“See- that’s the thing! I don’t need to breathe, I don’t need to eat, I can’t die because I’m immortal like you due to magic and I need to talk to someone who gets it because this past week I feel everyone’s been acting crazy and it’s making me feel crazy- And- and I’ve lost you.” You looked at the shocked man. “You’re immortal?...”

“Yep.” You nod. “… Long story?” The Immortal asks slowly, getting the same response in return. His beeper goes off and without even looking at it he turns it off. “That may have been important.” You pointed it out, but he just chuckled and smiled. “This is important too. I’m sure the others can do well without me for a bit. Now, how about we talk over some food? I know this little family dinner in Las Vegas.” You relaxed, nodding at his suggestion.

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“- and then he just tells me to be careful around certain magical weapons because they might hurt me- Like dude, you told me I’m immortal, taught me a bit of magic, and then dipped telling me to see him in a week at the same spot- he could have at least given me a way to contact him after telling me that something might kill me!” You sigh and take a bite of your burger and fries. “You were right, by the way, this is a great spot.”

Immortal chuckles at your complaint. “At least there is someone who is helping.” He furrowed his brows as he also ate bits of his steak. “Or is trying. I had a mental breakdown the first time I realized that I’m not aging and keep defying death.”

“Two days after I had a panic attack thinking about how everyone I love will eventually die, even Nolan and Mark- sure it’ll take a few centuries but that’s still nothing to immortality! The old bastard has been acting weird since I told them too, and Luthor keeps annoying me about his blasted party- which I’m like 90% sure is a front for my birthday- and today I’m supposed to meet the British bastard, but before I have to visit someone else-”

“Breathe, it’ll be fine, you’ll live.” The ancient man tried to reassure you with a small joke about the situation. “I can’t give much advice about this- your immortality seems very different from mine, and to be honest, I never actively think about it considering how sensible of a subject it is. Especially the ‘how many people will pass right by you’ topic. It’s…”

“Terrifying?” He sighs and nods at the completion. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone anymore, and that you thought I’d be the best person to talk about it with.” He plays with his food. “Therapists say that it’s good to talk about your feelings, right? I think it will be great for us both to talk openly about it- I don’t have a phone, but I do hang by the hero memorial stone every other Sunday- if, you know-“

“I’d love that, thank you Immortal…Abraham? Have you chosen a new name?” As your soft smile turned to a confused look the man only laughed, assuring you to call him whatever. Perhaps after that many years, names do lose their importance, or maybe it was the fact that he never had one when he was born in the Stone Age that could be translated to New World speech. “The honey pancakes are to die for, by the way.” His choice of words makes you snort with amusement.

“…You and Lex Luthor are friends?” He asks, a mix of confusion and surprise filling his tone. You just give a long sigh. “Friends is such a strong word…”

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You waited patiently in front of the manor’s front entrance, smiling once the doors opened, immediately being greeted by the butler. “I’ll never hear you call me by my first name, will I Sanford?” You teased the older man as he led you through the halls. “I fear not, ma’am.” He smiled as he bowed, leaving you once you walked by him, getting closer to Samson.

You set the little box of treats on the accent table in between the two armchairs as you took your place across Samson while you both greeted each other. “How have you been? How’s that suit going?” Your soft-spoken questions are met with a defeated sigh and a shrug. “It’ll take two more days.”

“You know… You don’t need the suit or powers to do some good. Let me finish, please-” You quickly interrupted. These men were always so quick to jump the gun. “You’re rotting here. I’m not telling you to drop the suit but in these two days, you could go see the outside. It won’t kill you. There is this kid, Adam. He is staying at the hospital I volunteer at and he’s quite a big fan of Black Samson-“

“He’d be disappointed to see me-“ You swiftly but gently tapped his foot. “He’s one of the kids you saved when you lost your powers, Sam. He saw you lose your powers and still hold up kilograms of ruble just so he could have a chance at escape. That boy admires you now more than ever. You need to face things and it’ll be better for you if you do it before you feel like you’re worthy again just because you’ve got powers again.”

“That’s harsh, kid.” Samson almost pouted. “Learned from the best.” You shrug and he smiles. A moment of silence passes between you two before he finally asks where the hospital is.

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John was on his tenth cigarette, he was showing great restraint, really. He knew he made a mistake in asking Zatanna for help, but he seemed unable to do the opposite lately. They both had been arguing for an hour, Constantine knew that the girl would take to Zee like a cat to catnip, but this was making him regret letting Zatanna know more beyond a magical kid needs help. “I’m just saying- maybe Batman should know, she’s his kid-“

“The numpty has been locking her up in his mansion and ignoring her for years, her daft siblings too. The rogues had to raise and give her the attention Bruce wasn’t willing to.” He scratched at his chin before taking another puff.

“Maybe Bruce-“ John didn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that, Zee. She’s just a kid- a kid who ran away because she thought Batman would kill her. Between the two of us, you should know better. You’re giving him too much grace.”

“Are you two mind reading or just mean mugging each other? Sorry for being late, by the way. Was finishing my project and lost track of time.” Your voice broke the two from their argument. Zatanna looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “She doesn’t look like the little kid you described.” John clears his throat, brushing off the comment on his manipulation before he introduces the two. “I thought it would be good to expose you to different kinds of magic-“

“You’re ditching me.” John choked on his words as you crossed your arms, quickly denying the accusation. “- It’s just- I- Zatanna is a great Elemental mage, I thought you’d like to learn more about Umbrakinesis-“ Zatanna, at John’s rambling and pleading look, stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John spoke highly of you.”

You gave her a gentle smile as you came closer and landed in front of her. “I doubt that, though, it’s nice to meet you too. Love your shows.” Your eyes moved to Constantine. “So, you two are going to teach me how to manipulate shadows? Can I learn the other elements and the mind-reading thingy you both were doing?”

“Telepathy, love.” John sighs as you give him a blank stare and double down. “Mind-reading thingy.” Zatanna chuckles softly at the look of pure defeat on John’s face.

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Dinner was quiet. For the past week it’s been awkward, especially as Nolan kept missing dinners and breakfasts, and seemingly avoiding you and Mark specifically. “So… how has your day been?” Debbie asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Amber and I got together, like- for real. And I mostly dealt with small stuff today. Robberies, Elephant Man, three times, the sort… Did dad text or- call, at least?” Mark mumbles, tired and slightly sore. Debbie shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

You shrug once all eyes are on you. “Talked to Immortal about- you know. Also trained my magic some more and found out some elemental magic just hates me. Water tried to drown me…” You glared at the glass as you spoke, getting up with a groan after you finished half of the food. “My everything hurts. I’ll go sleep, thanks for the meal mama.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for dad?” Debbie asks softly, trying to hide her worry. You just shake your head and take your plate to trash the remains and put it in the sink. “Nah. He wants to act like the sperm donor, he’s going to get treated as such. Besides, gotta check up with my friends in Gotham. Good night.” You waved her off, not noticing Mark’s brows furrowing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Hal was gaging as he encased the mangled body of The Joker, calling for the Watchtower to notify Batman that Joker had been found, Red Hood and the Sirens were celebrating, well- Jason and Harley were.

“Batman is going to be angry.” Pamela sighs in her wine glass. “Batman? Angry? Why, he’d never.” Selina joked, laughing before sipping on her own wine glass. “He’ll bust a vein when he finds out it was our little hero who did it.” Selina’s eyes catch Jason’s figure as he tries to climb onto her coffee table. “Wait- No! It’s-“ She and Pam cringe as the table wrecks to the side, the man’s body making a loud thud as he kisses the ground.

“Broken.” Catwoman sighs. “You good kid?” Ivy asks, almost being drowned by Harley's hysterical laughing. “I’m amazing! Best day of my life!” He slurs, giving two thumbs up before dropping his hands and groaning. “B-man is going to be so mad.”

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

#dc x invincible #dc crossover #invincible crossover #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere invincible #neglected reader #yandere batfamily #fem!reader #female!reader #platonic yandere #yandere!mark grayson #yandere!nolan grayson #yandere!debbie grayson

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fairytaleendingss · 4 months ago

Text

Room for One More?

Chapter 11

Summary: James has had time to think during the days he'd been away and through this, has come to a shocking revelation.

CW: Swearing, creepy man being unnerving (nothing inappropriate happens though).

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

This is a shorter one but I just wanted to get something out. I have more of a solid plan now of what I want to happen next to stay tuned for some more updates soon!

You started to feel better over the next few days. Remus checked on you periodically to make sure you were making progress while Sirius hovered awkwardly, not quite sure what he was supposed to do whenever the two of you happened to be in the same vicinity.

You weren't sure what had come over him recently, but things between the two of you had been stilted to say the least.

By Wednesday you were back on your feet and back at work, meaning Remus' job was done, however, you desperately hoped that things between the two of you would continue to be civil in the aftermath. Who knows? Maybe you'd even become friends.

James was also getting home from his trip today and you were bubbling with a combination of nerves and excitement. You'd found yourself missing him while he was away. Everything had been strange, to say the least and James was the person out of all your roommates who you were the most comfortable around by far. He just had this light energy about him that was able to balance everything out around your house and without it, things had just felt off. You couldn't quite place your finger on what it was but James Potter just had a way of putting you at ease.

Although, you couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for wanting him there for your own selfish purposes. You knew things had been particularly rough for him after the revelation at New Years and you knew he needed this time to get away from everything and clear his head.

You pondered this concept as you sat back in your desk chair, pen pressed into your cheek and eyes gazing off to nowhere. When did things become so complicated? you thought to yourself.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Mary sang, sliding across the linoleum office floor on her own chair. Mary was always pretty but you took note of it today in particular. Her hair was pulled up on top of her head in a tidy bun and she had a burgundy lipstick on, one that was a departure from the usual neutral tones she went for at work.

You raised a brow at her, choosing to pass by her question.

"You look lovely. Got plans tonight?"

Mary bit her lip as she often did when she was excited.

"It's Lily and I's four month anniversary tonight! I know it sounds silly to celebrate it but if I'm being honest, it's kind of a big deal! Today marks the longest official relationship I've been in!"

"Oh my gosh! Mary, that's wonderful!" you chirped. Then you paused. "Hold on, what do you mean 'official relationship'?"

Mary sighed. "Well, technically there was this guy in high school that I talked to for like a year over Snapchat but he lived in America and we never met in person so it doesn't really count."

You rolled your eyes at her fondly. "You had an internet boyfriend?"

She gave you a gentle slap on the shoulder. "What? I was like fourteen!"

"Okay, fine. Whatever. Congratulations anyway," you replied.

"Thanks girl! Now tell me," she scooted forward slightly on her chair, leaning in as if to share a secret. "What's going on with you and Sirius?"

You sighed thickly. "Unfortunately, there's nothing to tell."

"Really?" she looked surprised. "So you still haven't talked about anything that happened on New Years... or you know, before that?"

You shook your head. "Nope. In fact, honestly, we've barely talked at all recently. It's like he's avoiding me or something."

"That's is odd," Mary muttered. "I mean Sirius isn't usually known for being subtle. For some reason I had it in my head that maybe he would've gone all prince charming and come to your aid while you were ill," she chuckled.

"Ha! No, none of that. Every time we were in the same room, he'd just stare at me like I had two heads and then stutter out some excuse to rush away."

Mary let out a genuine laugh at this. "Yeah, actually that does sound like him. He's uh, not really much of a caretaker."

"No. Well, actually, it was... um, Remus who ended up doing most of the caretaking," you muttered bashfully.

Her eyebrows shot up like rockets. "I'm sorry, WHAT? Did I just hear you say Remus, the man that supposedly can't stand you, looked after you while you were unwell this last week?"

You shrugged but you couldn't deny the way your cheeks warmed at the thought. "He was quite wonderful actually."

A playful smirk overtook her. "Yeah, I bet he was. What? Did he like, bring you soup, and stroke your hair until you fell asleep?"

"Shut up," you joked. "You read too many romance novels."

"Hey! It's not my fault that you're living out the plot of New Girl!"

"You know, it actually kind of is, right?"

She shrugged. "Well, maybe that was the plan all along. I think Remus would definitely be Nick-"

"Anyway," you stated pointedly, before her comparison could get too deep. "You should probably get going. It's after 5 and you don't want to be late for your special date tonight!"

"Oh, shit! You're right," she exclaimed, jumping from her chair and racing to grab her coat.

You chuckled to yourself as you watcher her scramble for her things, calling out a hurried "goodbye" as she headed for the exit.

You took your time packing up that night, both having nowhere to be and also not looking forward to going home. You wondered if maybe Sirius would be out working tonight but you doubted it since James was supposed to have arrived home today and you suspected they'd want to spend some time together.

"Are you heading off now then?"

You abruptly turned on your heel, eyes wide as you noticed Glenn standing closely behind you. You hated when he did that. He was always creeping up on you when you were distracted.

You gave him an awkward smile, hoping he would say a quick goodbye and then leave you be.

He returned the gesture broadly, flashing his perfectly pearly white teeth in a way that you could tell usually worked to make girls swoon. It didn't, however, work so well on you.

"Yeah. Just finishing up now."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Ah. Well I see that Mary has made an early exit. Do you need some company walking out?"

You cringed internally. There was something just so artificial about him. Like he was constantly putting on an act, displaying qualities that he thought people liked to see. But you could see right through it and honestly, it left a bad taste in your mouth.

"That's very kind but I'm okay by myself."

He shook his head stubbornly. "Nonsense! What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go alone in the cold?"

You restrained yourself from rolling your eyes. Clearly it wasn't going to be so easy to shake him off.

"Okay, then," you relented unwittingly. "Lets go."

The walk from your office on the seventh floor down to the front exit was particularly awkward. Glenn hovered at your side, not saying much but just sending you that unnerving smile of his every so often. As you approached the front steps, you were more then relieved to see a familiar figure waiting by the door.

"James! What are you doing here?"

He looked up from his phone, flashing you a genuine grin, one that made your heart feel warm, instead of causing bile to want to rise in your throat the way Glenn's did.

"Hey!"

He approached with rapid footsteps, engulfing you in his warm arms. You relaxed into his hold for a moment, savoring the feeling.

You pulled away at the sound of a throat clearing beside you. Glenn was looking between the two of you with an unreadable expression.

"Oh! Sorry," James corrected himself, only then noticing the other man. "I'm James, Y/n's roommate. Nice to meet you."

He stuck a hand out towards Glenn, which the latter man shook with a reluctant hesitation.

"Glenn Mulciber. We work together."

You didn't like the way the man was looking at James, something akin to jealously flashing across his eyes in a way that made your skin crawl.

"Well, thanks for walking me out, Glenn but James and I'd better be going. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, right. Okay," was all he said before he turned on his heel and stalked away, his demeanor suddenly very cold.

"Well, he's an odd sort of person," James observed as the two of you began the journey home.

"I'm not a fan of his, to tell you the truth," you responded. "He's weird. He kind of creeps me out."

"Hmm," James muttered thoughtfully, although you could tell his mind was elsewhere.

"You don't have to keep coming to pick me up from work, you know? I'm perfectly capable of making it home myself."

James shrugged. "I know, I just like spending time with you."

You felt your heart swim at his words and had to turn your gaze away from him in the hopes that he wouldn't see the embarrassment on your face.

"Well, um... how was your trip?"

"Good. Yeah. It was good."

He was fiddling with the hem of his coat, looking vaguely off into the distance as he spoke to you. Something seemed off about him. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what was going on.

"Is everything okay?" you questioned. "You seem nervous or something."

"Um, well," he hesitated for a moment before turning to face you. "Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

You felt your heart sink into your stomach as a slew of worst case scenarios began to run through your mind. You did your best to keep composed.

"Okay, what's up?"

James released a heavy breath as if he was preparing himself for the words to follow.

"So, while I was away, I had a lot of time to think about things,"

"What kinds of things?"

"Well, you know, just everything that's been going on. When I found out about Lily and Mary back on New Years Eve, I was heartbroken..."

You sighed feeling a rush of sympathy. "Yeah, James about that, I'm really sorry. You shouldn't have had to find out that way, I-"

"No! No, it's okay!" he interrupted. "What I was going to say was actually that I was heartbroken at first. But then the more I thought about it, the more I realised, I've been in love with Lily for so long that I think at some point I just started to like the idea of us together more than I actually liked her, if that makes sense."

You sent him a look of confusion.

"That's not to say I don't like her of course," he rushed to amend. "She's a great friend and obviously she's beautiful and a wonderful person and all that but I think that I just got so comfortable with wanting her that I didn't realise when I didn't really want her anymore..."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the boy’s rambling. "James, what are you trying to say?"

Then he stopped walking suddenly and you followed suit. He turned to look at you then, his face serious and eyes ablaze with an unfamiliar friction.

"I think what I'm trying to say is... that night made me realise that I have feelings for someone else."

In that moment, despite the cold of the street, heat began to swirl around you. You felt energy of an unknown source drawing you together in a magnetic pull as James gazed down at you with a look of yearning clouding his dark eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked up at him. Your eyes raked over every inch of his face; his sweet smile, the dimples in his cheeks, the stupid curls that he couldn't contain no matter how hard he tried. He was beautiful.

Then, without warning, he leaned in and your lips connected.

It was like the world faded around you. The noise of the cars and the crowds and the hustle and bustle of London in the evening, all just melted away. You didn't care that you were standing in the middle of the street, with icy tendrils of wind piercing your skin. You didn't care that you had a rock in your shoe or that your hair was blowing in your face. In that moment, all you cared about was him and the feeling of his soft lips against yours.

It wasn't desperate and passionate the way it had been with Sirius. No, James' kiss was sweeter, gentler, filled with warmth and comfort just like he was.

When you pulled back, James had a playful smirk on his face. He licked his lips, looking down at you affectionately as he used a finger to push his glasses up on his nose.

"So," he muttered. "Will you go out with me, then?"

You rolled your eyes. "Of course I will, you idiot."

He laughed a little and intertwined your fingers with his own.

"Okay good. I just wanted to make sure."

You scoffed as you began to walk once more, hand in hand and smiles painted on your swollen lips.

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy @navs-bhat @shushbruv @magicwithaknife @eeviee4 @notapoetjustscar @gugggu6gvai @robertsmithclone @ilovesugurugeto69 @taytayy178 @its-notkiee @bugworldsworld @switchingfandomslikecrazy @evangelquill, @delusional-4-fake-people, @ch4rlotte35, @insideoutjulie, @hiireadstuff, @laniirackssss, @starrystormwritings, @strategicsweetheart, @1800brat, @sammyreid, @frootloops1213, @ill-be-okay-soon-enough, @loveelylani, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @that-gay-person-27, @serenadingtigers, @lily-mylove, @arielthee-potterhead, @treefairy-28, @happycatanxie, @lettertovera, @captainlunaxmen, @ellieshifts3, @marauderslover18, @hidontmindtheintrovert

#marauders #james potter #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #poly!marauders x reader #marauders au

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rorylovesangst · 6 months ago

Text

A Burning Hill

construction worker/underground fighter simon riley x waitress

mood board

song of the chapter is How To Disappear Completely by Radiohead

tws: death of a parent, suicidal ideation, abuse/harassment, self inflicted burn (sh), trauma

chapter 1 -> next chapter

word count: 1.2k

Even when you were nestled in your mother's warm belly, coddled by her own blood and flesh, you could tell you were a burden. A miracle, the doctors said when you were born. Your mother's heart stopped beating for 4 minutes while in labor—vital to a fetus and its host. The miracle was the baby bathed in blood and mucus, not the lifeless mother, puckered and pearl.

You didn’t cry when you were born, too occupied trying to get your walnut-sized heart to betray you, set you free of the hell you’d just begun.

You were never a child who cried for attention. Instead, you swallowed your sounds, held your breath, and watched the world through the lens of someone who wasn’t meant to stay. The hole in the shape of a woman you never met was always there, a mark left in the silence—a picture on the wood-paneled wall. Belly swollen, smile wide. No stories to tell, no lullabies, no warmth from the one person who was supposed to make you feel like you belonged.

Instead, it was just the quiet hum of a broken home, where nothing was ever whole enough to be considered sound.

The nurses said you were a fighter, wrapped in white cotton and a pink cap. You survived the nightmare. You were strong.

But strength doesn’t mean survival, does it? It just means you keep waking up. And waking up—day after day—feels more like a punishment.

You spilled coffee down your shirt today. It seared into your skin and left it hot and freckled. Ronny coughed a whiskey-smelling bark into your face when you stammered into the kitchen with water in your eyes and a half-empty coffee pot trembling in your hand. You felt the pull, the familiar flicker in your neck—small but sharp, like a wire snapping in your spine. It tugged your head to the side before you could stop it. Ronny’s face twisted, his lip curling around the cigarette as though your body’s rebellion were some kind of offense. You watched through blurred vision as he slapped a damp rag against your chest and snarled Clean yourself up, bitch through his cigarette before brushing past you, too close to be accidental. You keep your eyes on the streaked linoleum and mutter an apology.

“Blue, honey,” Olive gasped through the doorway, rushing in and plucking the pot from your shaking hand as though it might shatter, “Are you alright?”

You nodded, shallowing back shards of glass. If you tried to speak, you knew it would come out warbly and wet. The buzz radiated under the damp rag like it wanted to remind you it was there, that you were here. Alive, maybe. Existing, at least.

She steered you into the employee bathroom, the fluorescent light hissing overhead like an unwelcome witness. Perched on the cold, cracked toilet seat, you felt her fingers hastily unbuttoning the top four pins of your blouse. When she saw the angry red blooming across your collarbone and down to your breasts, she winced as if the burn had somehow reached out and burned her too.

Twenty-five minutes and half a roll of gauze later, you were back on your heels, tray in hand, weaving through the diner like a ghost. Grease clung in the air, mixing with the sting of antiseptic rising from your skin. You didn’t glance at Ronny as you passed, but the weight of his eyes was enough of a reminder that he was there.

By 11, the diner was mostly empty, its silence broken only by the occasional clatter of a spoon against porcelain. Three regulars slouched over the bar like wilted plants, nursing their coffees and bacon, while two new faces lingered in the shadows of the back corner.

Olive had clocked out at 8, leaving the newcomers to your care. Their eyes snapped to the bandages the moment you approached, their stares like tiny spotlights burning through your sticky skin.

You tugged at the puppet strings of your face, drawing your lips into a smile that felt brittle enough to crack. “Hi. What can I get for you guys?”

Their dirtied hands moved in unison, flipping through the laminated menus with a sound like shuffling paper. Both men hummed, low and indecisive, until the one with the prickly, dark mohawk spoke first.

“I’ll tek ah ham n’ cheese toastie, and some orange juice, bonnie,” he chirped, his voice thick with a Scottish accent, coarse as gravel. His crooked smile curled like a frayed ribbon across his chapped lips, his eyes lingering on your bandages for a beat too long before snapping back to the menu.

“And I’ll jus’ ‘ave a cuppa, light an’ sweet,” the blond huffed in a British accent, his dirt-covered palms sliding the menus across the counter.

“Those will be right out for you,” you say with a small smile before retreating to the back to put in their orders.

Rain taps a steady rhythm on the metal roof as you wait for Tony, the cook, to finish. Glancing out the window, you watch the downpour drench the empty lot. The walk home is going to suck. Of course, you don’t even have an umbrella.

The food bell rings and you're quickly balancing a plate in one hand and their drinks in another. The toastie sizzled on the plate as you slid it in front of the mohawk man—Johnny, you decided, based on the stitched patch on his jacket. The mug landed gently in front of the blond, whose tag says Riley. His eyes flickered up at you as if weighing something, but he said nothing. Johnny didn’t bother hiding his stare.

“Yer chest,” he started, jerking his chin toward the gauze peeking from your blouse. “Looks nasty. Burn?”

Your hand hovered on the edge of the table, fingers tightening around the curve like it might anchor you. For a moment, the words sat heavily on your tongue, like pills you were too afraid to swallow.

“Just an accident,” you muttered, the smile on your lips wilting at the edges.

“That so?” Johnny leaned back, his yellow construction jacket creaking as he shifted. His accent softened, as though he was testing the weight of your lie. “Guess this place gets rougher than it looks, eh?”

You huff out a laugh that makes your sternum stutter like a kindergartner on the first day of school.

Riley—the blond—stirred sugar into his coffee with slow, deliberate motions. His gaze is like a dagger, the blade barely nicking your skin. Johnny’s stare doesn't let go either. He’s waiting for more, expecting more—like it’s not enough. You can feel the tick of the words in your neck, the way they press against your skin like a bruise.

Before you can stop it, you feel the familiar flicker—a twitch, a sharp pull that catches your breath. Your head jerks sideways, and you hear the strange, strangled sound of a laugh—an involuntary, sharp noise escaping you, even though it isn’t funny. You want to shove it back down and swallow it back inside you, but it’s out there, splintered in the air between you.

Riley doesn’t seem surprised. His eyes flicker between you and Johnny, an unreadable expression passing over his face. You know he’s noticed. They both have.

But then the tension, thick and bruising, is broken by the shuffle of feet behind you as another customer slides into a booth. You feel the burn of their stares fade just as quickly as it came, but the heat in your cheeks doesn’t fade. Still, your hands shake as you back away, your smile a brittle thing you have to patch together before you disappear back into the shadows of the diner, pleading for Tony to hand them the check.

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m-ilkiee · 10 months ago

Text

Monsters: Mikey Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa

Chapter 2: Shots Fired

series summary: your grievous sin was Emma standing up for you to her brothers. and now you’re going to pay the heavy price for destroying their perfect family dynamic.

chapter summary: Izana Kurokawa demands your attention and he doesn’t take no for an answer. Not even when his demands are outrageous.

cw: DARK CONTENT, MISOGYNY, NSFW, r*pe mention, religious guilt, depictions of PTSD and CPTSD, emotional incest, abandoment issues, violence, revenge porn, depression, filming without consent, drugging, implied domestic abuse, victim blaming, blackmailing, manipulation, gaslighting, mind break, psychological torture, use of firearms

r-18+ (not suitable for 17 and under)

wc: 11.6k

{masterlist} {chapter 1} {chapter 3} {taglist}

a/n: likes are nice, comments and reblogs with comments are superior, anons are also superior too and would make me update faster cause it means people like what i write. this chapter takes an entirely different turn from the old story, some scenes are similar but the context is different. i host polls after this so stay tuned. Edit 02/11/2024: this chapter's end has been edited and changed. I've indicated the edited point, so that you could skip other parts to read it. Thank you.

YOU haven’t been able to stay asleep for the past few days.

It’s easy to fall asleep after a hard and stressful day at school and your part-time job. Your limbs ache from all the walking and lugging a bookbag far heavier than what you could handle -since all your e-textbooks were on your (now destroyed) laptop and phones were not allowed during lectures. And working from 5pm until 9pm at a restaurant, serving food to rude, overbearing customers only to be paid in pieces was another added stress in itself.

Not to mention, studying until the words are bleary and just looking at a book hurts your eyes.

But then, in all your dreams, everything you’ve pushed to the back of your memory is at the forefront. Your dream starts typically, your normal school day, waking up, dressing in your cute little blue crop sweater and jean skirt with socks. You go to classes, and then you see Mikey’s car waiting for Emma.

Things take a different turn. He’s the one getting out of the car to meet you. It’s like a siren call, him holding out his hand for you to take despite someone screaming for you to stop. You try to reject him, try to run away like the voice said but you end up getting trapped. This time, he’s not using his hands. He’s fully sheathed inside you, robbing you of the thing you hold so dear while you kick, bite and claw at him until you wake up screaming, sweat soaked all over your sheets.

You consistently dream of being violently raped by Manjiro Sano.

The next few hours until sunrise were equally horrible. You’re quietly sobbing into your pillows, praying to God to forgive you for letting Mikey touch you in the first place, assuming your reason for having such dreams was God’s divine judgement for your grievous sin. You’ve lost count on how many Bible verses you stay up reading until your eyes are bleary and the sun comes up.

No matter how much you pray and how many times you recite psalms 127 before you sleep, you can never escape Mikey in the world of dreams. He’s a virus that has invaded your thoughts, corrupting every dream you had and twisted them into nightmares.

You don’t know how long you can hold on being this sleep deprived. It’s been impairing your school life, trying to find a way to stay awake during classes only for you to fall asleep and miss the rest of it. Even when you got notes from the person next to you, reading them was always difficult because your eyes hurt so much.

Work was even more taxing and stressful, rush week adding more stress than you could ever imagine. You found yourself spacing out more than usual when you were supposed to be taking orders. You were unable to keep up with the fast paced environment, your body feeling like a ton of bricks with every moment you make. Your eyes were heavy lidded, tired from forcing them open throughout the day.

You were so, so tired-

“Hello! Are you sleeping on me young lady?” A voice snapped at you.

Your eyes shot open and immediately you stood back straight. You must have been dozing off while taking the older lady’s order -the very thing you’ve been trying to avoid all day long. “No, not at all Ms-” you started to explain. “-I was just … what was your order aga-”

You flinched when the woman angrily slammed her fist on the table, shutting you up instantly! “So you were sleeping on the job! What kind of establishment allows this?” She screamed, attracting the attention of customers around. “I need to speak to your manager. NOW!”

You instantly began to panic at the mention of your manager. If he heard any of this, he was definitely going to fire you. You cannot afford to lose this job right now, with all your school expenses and saving up money for next session’s tuition.

“No mam!” you begged, keeping your voice even as you tried to reason with her. “Th-there’s no need for that! Please! Let me take your order and I’ll-” you racked your brain for an excuse, knowing fully well your establishment does not offer free meals. “- I’ll pay for your meal! On me-”

“So you’re trying to imply I’m poor?” She interrupted you again, her tempo even higher than before. “You disrespectful little wretch! How dare you? GET ME YOUR MANAGER RIGHT NOW!”

You started begging the older woman, trying to calm her down and de-escalate the situation, but each plea only fuelled her rage. By now, every customer, every employee and just anyone in that place watched you grovel and beg this woman to calm down, some people even videoing your altercation. Your body was trembling as she screeched in your ears, calling you all sorts of names while you relentlessly apologised to her.

��What is going on here?”

You winced at the sound of your manager’s voice emerging from the backrooms. You stood stiffly as he walked to your side, using his shoulder to nudge you out of the way. “Is there something wrong Ms.?” He asked the lady. “What happened?”

“This little wretch!” She practically screeched at you, her finger wagging straight at your hung face. “She was sleeping while I was ordering! And when I pointed it out to her calmly, she called me a hag!”

Your eyes snapped open. You can tolerate people yelling at you, but lying is out of the question. “I did not call you anything! That’s a lie-”

“You be quiet!” Your manager yelled at you, silencing you. He turned to face the woman again, apologising profusely for your so called rude behaviour. “I promise you mam, she will be dealt with accordingly. Your order is in the house, please take that as a token of our humble apology and forgive us.”

You stood there in shock as the woman smirked satisfactorily at her now free meal. “Well, you better get rid of her!” She snarked, eyes scanning you up and down, plopping back down on her seat. “Or you’ll lose me as a patron.”

“Of course mam.” He said sweetly before switching his countenance towards you into a more irritated one. “You, come with me.”

You lowered your head once again in disappointment as you started following your manager towards the back rooms, your head lowered in shame as the eyes followed your every move to your damnation waiting for you in the manager’s office.

Your skin crawled as you felt his penetrating gaze on you, as if judging you. “You know how many complaints I have received this week just from you, (name)? How many orders you’ve messed up?”

You shook your head no in response, not trusting yourself to say anything reasonable at this point. He eyes you up and down again before scoffing at you rudely. “I only let you stay here because you said you were desperate for a job. But apparently, you’re not even bothered enough to keep it.” He spat out. “Unfortunately for you, this is the end of the road for you here. Change out of your uniform and leave.”

“But s-”

“I said you’re FIRED. GET OUT.”

You sighed weakly, obeying your now ex-manager’s order and leaving the office. You ignored the eyes of everyone watching you exchange the too tight black jeans and green top uniform back to your white bohemian skirt and light blue top with your white jacket. Calmly, you packed your school bag and everything you owned with you and slung it over your shoulder, replacing the uniform back to the locker, dropping the key on top.

No one said goodbye to you as you left through the back door.

IZANA knows it's creepy to be waiting for Emma just outside her college, but it's not like he has a choice when she keeps ignoring any method he uses to contact her.

Mindlessly, he fiddled with his lighter with his back on the wall of the English department building and an unlit cigarette between his lips. Purple eyes scanned the people leaving the building one by one, hoping to find a mop of golden hair amongst the students. His hopes rose with each blond he saw, only for him to deflate when he realised they weren't her.

A few minutes passed and still no sign of Emma. Deciding that he didn’t want to stand around and gape, Izana lifted his lighter towards his cigarette, flicking the light twice and bringing the warm flame to his lips. Breathing in the familiar scent of nicotine, smoke filled his lungs as he tucked the lighter back in his pockets. His free hand took the cigarette from his lips and he exhaled, releasing plumes of smoke from his lips.

His smoking habit had gotten worse within the past week. Izana couldn’t help it, reaching for a light anytime he saw his gifts in the dustbin. Emma hasn’t been this angry at him before. Usually a new plushie was enough to wash his sins clean, no matter how grevious they were. Now, not even the most expensive shoes she’s been eyeing for months could satiate her anger.

All because of you.

Izana knows his little sister like the back of his hand. Like how she loved sleeping with plushies because it comforted her whenever their mother brought her gambling friends into the house and they were loud. Or how he picked up a guitar to learn multiple barbie songs because their mother had destroyed Emma’s CD that he bought with his money to punish her. He knew she liked warm tea during her periods and gentle back rubs to ease her pain. He’s not the best person to be around, with how fucked over he was by life until Shinichiro gave him purpose but he loved his sister a lot and everything he did was to protect her. Life hardened him, made him so jaded that the only thin thread connecting him to his humanity was Emma and he’d do anything to protect his humanity.

Only to watch it slip through his fingers.

First it was Mikey’s stupid friend, Ken Ryugi, who waltzed his way into Emma’s life. Izana didn’t like him one bit- didn’t like how Emma would bite her lip, waiting for him to reply and cry herself to sleep when he didn’t. Her heart was soft, fragile and that brute tore it apart by telling her he wasn’t interested in a relationship yet.

The only reason Ken wasn’t in an unmarked, shallow grave in the middle of nowhere was simply because Mikey was involved.

Now it is you, taking the space in her life that belonged to him and Mikey. You’re pushing both of them out of the equation, threatening their position in their sister’s life and everything they know.

Izana wonders how someone so insignificant was so important to Emma that she was willing to cut communications with her own brothers. It baffles him beyond understanding and at the same time enrages him that she could trust you so easily. That she was willing to turn against him in your name.

He took more puffs, skimming throughout the campus for any sight of her. It didn’t matter how he felt about it, as Kisaki had convinced him to ask Emma and you to go shopping, just to get back into Emma's good graces again. Apparently doing a nice gesture publicly for you would convince their sister to give them another chance again.

Especially because Izana had been the biggest opposition to their friendship.

“But Mikey was a little shit about them too.” he grumbles underneath his breath, cigarette in hand. “Why do I have to be the one to apologise? And why did Mikey get an out while I’m doing all the heavy lift-”

His thoughts were cut short the second he caught sight of a familiar blonde hair bouncing in the wind and stood up straight, tossing the cigarette to the floor and crushing it underneath his black shoes, before rushing to catch up to his little sister.

Izana pushed through the throng of people, violently shoving anyone that got in his way until he finally fell in step with her, slowing down to match her pace. Without wasting time, his hand curled around the girl’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks instantly and earning a shocked gasp escaped her lips.

“Get off me - Izana?”

Her free hand was fast to hit him, but her head was faster in turning around, only to recognize it was just Izana. Her hand stopped inches away from the smirking male’s face, the tension leaving her body and relief taking its place. It doesn’t last long, though as irritation suddenly crawls on her face, instantly displeased at his actions. “What the hell? I’ve told you to stop doing that.” she hissed at him.

A mischievous grin made its way to his face at Emma’s irritation. She always had a pout whenever she was angry at him and it made look even more adorable.

“Were you scared?” He teased, pulling Emma closer to him until she was practically smushed at his side, despite the glare she gave him in response. “You know no one would dare touch you.”

“Get off me. Your breath stinks like nicotine, I thought you said you quit smoking that shit.”

Ignoring Emma’s last question, he decided to change the topic. “Your lapdog isn't here with you?” he asked. Usually, you would be hovering behind her like a damn pest, so you not being around her was rather strange.

Emma is quick to shove him off lightly, putting some distance between the two of them, clearly still mad at him. "(Name)'s not feeling well, so she didn't come to class today. I'm on my way to get her medicine."

Oh, that's a surprise.

But with you out of the way, Izana could finally have Emma all to himself for today and hang out with his beloved sister. Maybe even make up for the party thing without apologising to you. Without you here, it’s likely Emma isn’t as mad at the whole situation and is playing it up to make you feel like you have someone on your side.

He knows you’re not going to protest if Emma says she’s in talking terms with her brothers again. It’s a win-win situation and he doesn’t have to grovel or ask for forgiveness for some joke that went wrong.

"So that means we can hang out?"

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have to keep pretending you're still mad at me now that she isn't here." He spews the 'she' with so much venom it could kill, before switching up with a sick grin, his hand stretched out. "We can go to Vivienne Westwood and get that Saturn necklace you like, what do you say?"

His words hung in the air as Emma trailed her pointed glare from his hand, back to his cheerful visage. She crossed her arms in response slowly, her yellow eyes burning holes into his face as her lips curled into a sick sneer.

“Are you insane?”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what?’ me Izana! I just told you (name)'s ill and you're asking me to go with you to shop at Vivienne westwood? Are you nuts?”

Emma’s voice was loud enough to garner wandering eyes of other by-standers, watching the event go down. Izana kept his composure, despite his bubbling irritation beneath the surface of his skin, with a smile -albeit stiffer than before. ‘She’s just being emotional’ Izana whispered to himself, still trying to be rational. ‘Just take it easy with her’

“Oh come on, should I care about her-"

"You should be begging her to forgive you for what you did to her that night!"

"You can't still be mad at me for that shit that happened two weeks ago. And besides, it's not my fault she couldn't take a joke” his words were smooth, buttery, flowing out of his lips like it was the truth, digging his own grave. “I didn’t know your friend was that sensitive-”

“Are you listening to the bullshit coming from your mouth?” Emma roared, her voice echoing throughout the entirety of the department, her face red with fury. Izana had never seen his own beloved sister ever look at him with such disgust in her eyes, her teeth gnashing against each other and hands at her side, clenching against each other. “Is that what you think a joke sounds like?”

“Calm the fuck dow-”

“No wonder you’re fucking single, you’re such a piece of shit to anyone that isn’t Shinichiro!” Emma screamed, interrupting Izana once again, her temper fiery enough to burn a hole on the ground she stood with how heated she was. “How does anyone even stand you for so long? You’re unbearable!”

“Excuse m-”

He doesn’t like where the conversation is going, with how furious Emma was right now. He tried to raise a comforting hand to Emma’s shoulder to ease her tension but she was quick to smack it away from her hard, stinging his fingers a little.

“You’re so unpleasant, how do you even have any friends? How do they tolerate you? To think (name) wanted me to forgive you! Thank god you aren’t my fucking brother, I can’t imagine being anything like you!”

The words left her mouth before she could stop herself.

It was as if the world froze over for Izana. He stood there, wide eyed, his heart beating loudly in his chest as all the voices around him faded into the background. His hand extended weakly at his side, mouth drying up as a lump formed in his throat.

“I-I-i" she starts to stutter. It’s obvious that she can recognize what she had just said as he blankly stared at her. "I didn't mean i-”

He doesn’t let her finish, turning on his heel and walking away as fast as possible. People were quick to clear out of his way, not wanting to be his target of aggression. Emma followed behind, instantly, shouting his name at the top of her lungs followed with strings of apologies.

“Izana, wait please-” she screamed from the crowd of people, tears streaming from her yellow eyes. He continued to ignore her as he hopped on his bike, sliding in the key and revving up the engine before she could reach him.

Izana zoomed away, turning Emma’s cries into background noise, her words repeating in his head.

“I didn’t mean it! I’M SORRY-”

YOU don't know which was worse, the feeling of helplessness that came with the reality of your life crashing before your very eyes or the splitting headache you've developed after crying in your room for a week straight. Laying on your bed all day, huddled up in a blanket and sobbing uncontrollably was unhealthy, but it was all you found the strength to do these days.

In all your years of being alive, you've never felt this pathetic. Not when you would be pushed outside in the pouring rain if you made a mistake in making dinner, or had been beaten with a belt in front of Yuzhua and Hakkai because you failed your catechism test. You could protect yourself from your brothers when they got violent. You could run and hide when your dad was really angry and wanted to take it out on you.

Unfortunately, no one told you what to do when your life is falling apart.

Ever since that day, you couldn't find the strength to go to class or do anything for that matter. It was like your entire energy was sucked out of you, leaving your body an empty husk with nothing left to give.

You only have yourself to blame.

You drag the blankets closer to your body, sniffling a bit. The worst part of all of this is that after this month, if you don’t find a job that pays you quickly, you are going to be broke. It’s times like this that makes you regret leaving your family. You know it’s wishful thinking, but you wonder if you would be forgiven assuming you return home in tears and repentant of your sin of disobedience like the prodigal son in the bible. Life is too hard to live in the outside world without the help and guidance of a parent. You miss your old life, with your own bed and guaranteed food, as long as you did as you were told. You miss how sometimes your parents took you and your siblings to eat out after church.

You miss your mother. You want to go back to her. Life is hard, and dealing with being jobless with nowhere to turn to is harder. You could ask Emma, but she’s already taking care of you and there was no way you would bother your friend about your money problems.

"Hey babes, I got the medicine for you."

Emma's soft voice rouses you out of your self-pity session. The wood creaks underneath her heels as she walks to your bed and takes a seat besides you, the mattress dipping underneath her weight. The scent of her Vivienne Westwood wafting through your nostrils fills you with a sense of warmth, familiarity and at the same time, dread.

You feel guilty. Perhaps it's because you don't know how to tell Emma what exactly is wrong with you. It's easier to give her the half-truth that you caught a stomach bug than say everything. If you even as much as hinted that Manjiro had something to do with the real reason you were a sobbing mess on your bed, you're sure she would overreact and fight with her brothers again.

But still, not telling her meant you were keeping secrets from her. Something you both promised not to ever do as you two became best-friends.

‘It’s for her own good.’ you try to justify it. ‘It’s better I keep my mouth shut.’

Pushing that thought at the back of your mind, you roll over to her direction, pulling down your blanket just a little bit to see her properly. Your heart drops at the sadness etched onto Emma’s face, a forlorn look in her eyes. You hated seeing her down, yet all you’ve been doing for the past few months since you came into her life was causing her pain. You know how it feels to lose family, no matter how bad they were to you and Emma is no different.

“Hey”

Your voice is hoarse from your constant crying, but Emma doesn’t mention it as she reaches a hand to caress your face. “You look better than yesterday. You up to eat?”

You nodded briefly, realising how hungry you were. You’ve barely had an appetite to eat anything, so your rations had been smaller and compact until you regained it back bit by bit, thanks to Emma’s constant care. Pushing yourself up, you sit up and yawn, quickly covering your mouth the moment a bad stench emanates from it. Emma’s face quickly grows sour as well, probably smelling it too.

“You haven’t showered.”

“Uhhh-”

You knew there was no excuse for that one as Emma put the food and medicine away before yanking you off the bed while talking about how gross you were for not showering throughout today. “You’re a girl (name), don’t do this to yourself, c’mon-”

“But-” you start to whine, trying to defend yourself. “I was tired-”

“Nope!” she retorted, pushing you towards the bathroom. “No excuses! I swear you’re acting like Mikey when he’s in one of his moods-”

The room falls silent at her words, the cheerful aura dropping the second Emma realises what she’s said, a wave of guilt washing over her face as she lets go of your hands.

“Fuck- I’m sorry (name)...”

Your heart aches at how heartbroken she sounds right now and shatters even further at the fact that everything, every problem they were experiencing right now was all your fault. You saw it deep in Mikey’s eyes how much pain and suffering your presence in their family had caused, and how his anger reflected that action towards you. You’ve been so entrenched in your own problems that you forgot the mess you made in their family.

“Emma, you miss them don’t you?”

‘It’s not too late.’ You mutter to yourself, your heart in your throat as you steel your resolve. You couldn’t let her make that mistake you made by leaving your family aside. You don’t want Emma to be like you.

“(Name), please don’t-”

“You can’t keep ignoring them forever.” You cut her short, speaking directly to her now. “You can’t keep ignoring Draken either too. You’re miserable.”

“I’m fin-”

“Emma no.” You snap at her, finally having enough of her stubbornness as anger swells up in you. “I see how sad you look everytime you look at your pictures with your big brothers and Draken. Do you think that it’s healthy to keep ignoring them like this?”

“You were the one they hurt, you shouldn’t feel bad for them-”

“It doesn’t matter! I don’t matter!” You yell desperately, now pulling away from her grasp in an attempt to put your foot down. “They are the ones who matter a lot. Those are you family members! People who love you and have protected you for years! Just talk it out with them! They miss you for god’s sake!”

“What the hell do you mean you don’t matter?” Emma roars back at you, suddenly enraged by your outburst. You nearly stumble back at how angry she sounded, fear creeping into your skin as your verbal claws retract. “You matter to me! You mean the world to me as any of them do! You’re my best friend and I love you and if they don’t understand that then there is nothing to make up for!”

By the time she was done yelling, her breathing was heavy and her eyes so intense you couldn’t even stare at her. Your eyes quickly flickered to your feet instead; scared of seeing the disappointment on her face and terrified of her anger. You didn’t like it when Emma yelled, it reminded you of your mother getting angry at you, something you hated doing to her.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and took a step closer to you, her hand intertwined with yours. “Come on, I’ll help you shower.”

You silently follow behind her, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped.

PERHAPS Izana should be angry at Emma.

It would be justified after the words she said from her mouth, but he can’t because he knows the truth. Emma was just angry as well and she didn’t mean any of the words she had said to hurt him. She said them because of you, however and he realises that every fight they’ve had is over your presence in her life.

Which meant that the true culprit was you.

People may believe in love at first sight, but from the first day Izana set his eyes on you, he could only feel hatred towards you. You were just there, sitting awkwardly while Emma tried to involve you in their conversation and it irked him.

At first, Izana thought it was the fact that the both of you were clashing personalities that made him feel that way, but then you keep getting in his way and ruining things for him. He hates everything about you - the way you picked your finger when you were nervous. Your bright smile you gave to only Emma and how easy it was for her to like you. Just your mere presence in general was enough to set him off because of how simple it was for you to be close to Emma while you barely knew her. It felt like he was losing his only sister to a stranger, and now the Emma who stands in front of him is a mere mockery of his real sister.

And that’s the frustrating part. He can’t do anything to hurt you. He’s smart enough to know that if he does, Emma would never forgive him.

“... Kurokawa, are you here with us?”

Izana snaps back to reality as Kisaki taps the table three times to get his attention. ‘I might have spaced out.’ He thinks to himself before facing the entirety of the table; Tetta Kisaki, the rather shrewd and ruthless dealer sitting, his equally irritating lap dog Shuji Hanma and the little shit that he called his younger brother, Mikey.

Speaking of Mikey, ever since that day he made that phone call and revealed his brand new plan of accepting you into their friend group, he’s been very quiet. Even throughout today’s meeting, he hasn’t said a word, aside from mentioning that Draken was going to be absent and asking where Kakucho was before the meeting began.

And knowing his brother, a quiet Mikey is a suspicious Mikey.

Now that Izana thinks about it, he’s noticed that Mikey, who was on his side initially had suddenly switched to trying to apologise to you. Which was weird, considering how egocentric Mikey could be on the topic of apologising. Izana has his suspicions, but then again Mikey is unpredictable due to his rather dark impulses, so he couldn’t really say anything yet, until Kakucho came back from his task.

Izana cleared his throat and faced Kisaki again, deciding to be as honest as possible. After all, it’s their fault that he’s in this mess, might as well remind them. “Just thinking about how Emma practically called me a bastard and I’m supposed to be okay with it.” He said nonchalantly and the air in the room shifted into an uncomfortable silence for the upteenth time this week ever since that unfortunate day. It isn’t surprising to anyone as to why though, Izana’s complicated relationship with the Sano’s is a sore topic that no one ever dared to bring up.

From Kisaki’s tight lipped expression, Izana is sure that the younger male is picking his words carefully in his head. Even Hanma who would have laughed or said something to intentionally piss off Izana remains silent. Eventually, Kisaki lets out a resigned sigh. “The audit would be done another time.” He states in a cool tone, putting his laptop aside before facing the two brothers. “It’s obvious we’re not gonna do anything useful until you resolve this issue with Emma and her friend.”

“Really?” The white haired male mocks, causing Kisaki to shift in his place, an irritated frown creasing his face. “would you like to hear my pla-”

“We’re not going to kill a civilian and draw attention to ourselves, Izana. I’ve already told you what to do.” Kisaki snapped back, his yellow eyes darting from Izana to Mikey, before narrowing in irritation. “Both of you. Just apologise to (name), it’s not that hard. You don’t even have to mean it, the girl won’t even know the difference-”

“Ah yes, cause that went well the last time.”

“And whose fault is that? I clearly told you to say “I’m sorry” and all you did was make things worse!”

“I’m just brutally honest.” Izana spits back. “And you can’t blame me because I tried, compared to Mikey who sits on his damn ass and has done nothing-”

“I wasn’t the one who called her a cheap hooker!” Mikey interjects defensively, sitting upright after staying quiet from the start of this meeting, finally saying something.

“Oh, so you can speak.” Izana retorts back, his voice cold. Mikey is so good at shifting blame onto others for actions he has a hand in, especially when he knows it would reflect badly on him. Unfortunately, Izana has been in this game longer than his little brother. “I thought you had gone mute with the way you don’t want to talk about the issue beyond pushing me to apologise to her.”

“You don’t make it any easier with how you talk to people.” Mikey hisses back, his tempo rising with each word, but Izana can hear the slight shake in his voice, almost as if he’s hiding something. “How am I supposed to do anything if you keep saying shit like you’re glad (name)’s gone?”

(Name)?

The entire room falls silent at Mikey’s sudden outburst, or rather what Mikey had just said. No one says a word as they all stare at Mikey in shock, eye wide and mouth hanging open like he’d grown two heads. There’s a glimmer of confusion in the dark eyed male before the realisation of his mistake washes over him, his facial expression changing into a mixture of guilt and pure terror.

As if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

It’s unmistaken. Izana knows his brother is hiding something and it has to do with you. “You’ve never,” he starts slowly, never taking his eyes off Mikey, gauging his facial expression. “called her by her name. You only call girls who you had something to do with by their name.”

“I-”

“You fucked her, didn’t you.” it’s a statement, not a question. Mikey grows pale and it's more of a sure answer than anything else at all.

“I didn’t do anything bad… she’s still a virgin-”

“What.” Kisaki, interjecting as well, cuts him off, his voice cold. “Did. You. Do?”

Mikey is silent. It’s brief and doesn’t last long as he finally seals his fate with a quiet voice. “It’s not my fucking fault, she wore a short skirt and she was asking for it-”

At the side, Kisaki crumples back onto the dining table seat, his head in his hands muttering a quiet “Oh fuck, I should have stayed with Osanai.” as he shakes in disbelief. Hanma just sits there, clearly perturbed, not knowing how to react but at the same time, not really interested.

“Glad to know I’m not the only screw up.” Izana scoffs as well. Despite how cheery his voice sounded, the furious look on his face says a different story altogether. “Since apparently you’re just as stupid as I am.”

Mikey runs a hand through his golden locs, frustration evident on his features. No one has ever seen him look so frantic, like a little kid who broke something and is trying to hide it. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Sure she said no at first but I knew she wanted it when she relaxed in my touch-”

“That’s not what Emma’s gonna think, you idiot!” Izana barks at him angrily, his temper finally off the rails. “You practically threw away your entire plan before it even started! All for what? Mediocre pussy you could get from some other girl? And you know how Shin is about this shit. If Emma finds out and tells him, we’re screwed!”

There’s a mixture of emotions swirling in Izana right now. The urge to punch Mikey was strong, for daring to not only lie to his face, but also making him look like a fool to cover his ass.

Then again, he knows it’s really not Mikey’s fault but yours. You must have done something to make Mikey hurt you because he knows his little brother doesn’t hurt girls. You have this effect of turning people into worse versions of themselves, making them disgusting, evil and hateful.

You turned Emma against them and now you made Mikey’s dark impulses come out.

It’s you that’s the problem.

“So what anyone find out? They won’t believe her” Mikey snarls back, irritated. “She can’t blame me, I told her to fucking leave but she didn’t listen! She was practically begging me to fuck her-”

“ENOUGH!”

Kisaki’s voice is loud enough to silence the two brothers, ending their argument instantly as they breathe heavily from their prior screaming match. Izana slumps back on his seat as Kisaki sits up straight, eyes narrowed. Mikey does the same as Izana, his jaw tightly clenched as he crosses his arms on his chest, feet crossed. The younger male clears his throat, and starts to rationalise the situation.

“It’s obvious that we’re going to switch gears since this happened. We all have a curated reputation that we need to protect so that people don’t nose into our business.” He turns to Mikey who is still glaring hard at Izana. “Your brother has a point, you fucked up our plan by not telling anyone what you did-”

“You judging me too, Kisaki?”

“Can you stop being defensive for once Mikey and just listen!” Kisaki scolds, just about done with everyone making things more difficult for him. “I don’t care what you did to her, whatever affection or lust you have for her is a you problem. I just want this situation to be in our favour.”

The statement makes Izana scoff in dismal fashion, but he decides to ask out of curiosity regardless. “And how do you intend to turn this situation around? Cause right now she has leverage over us and any careless move can put us in a tougher spot than we can handle.”

Kisaki turns his attention fully towards Izana again, a knowing look on his face as he asks. “Is Kakucho done searching Mikey’s car?”

‘How did he know?’ Izana blinks, but then catches Hanma smirking and doesn’t bother to ask his impending questions. Kisaki always had a nasty and suspicious habit of continuously tailing him specifically, and usually it doesn’t go over Izana’s radar when it happens, apart from this instance. Which meant someone was being a rat in his group.

He’ll deal with that later.

Mikey raised a brow in confusion as well, opening his mouth to protest the invasion of his privacy when Izana’s phone suddenly rings. He picks it up, attempting to step out to answer it when Kisaki raises his hand to stop him.

“Answer it here.” Kisaki said, ignoring the way Izana looks at him like he has two heads. “and put it on speaker.”

He had no reason to comply, but he wanted to see where Kisaki was going with whatever plan he had. With a wry smile, Izana put the phone down on the table and slid the answer button, putting it on a loudspeaker.

“Did you find anything Kakucho?”

Ever loyal, Kakucho clears his throat and starts to speak, his voice sounding strained over the phone, as if he’s struggling with something. “Yes boss.” He answers, a twinge of nervousness coating his tone. “There’s a dash cam on the mirror and a spy cam underneath the compartment facing the passenger’s seat…”

Mikey grumbles under his breath something about fucking Kakucho up if anything ends up spoilt or missing in his car but Kisaki holds his hand up to his lips and shushes him. Izana continues once he’s sure his brother is done complaining. “And did you confirm the anonymous tip that we got?”

He can hear Kakucho shift uncomfortably, the silence on the other side of the phone drawn out until he finally says. “Boss, it’s too … I don’t think we should use this against her.” He tries to reason. “I think we’re going too far-”

“Perfect.” Kisaki chimes in, now looking at Izana with a satisfied smile. Kakucho is about to ask why Kisaki was there but Izana cuts him off instead. “Bring it back. I’ll explain once you come to the house.”

“Okay boss.”

The phone line dies and Kisaki, fairly confident in his plan, looks at Izana once again. “I’m sure you know where I’m going, right?”

Izana may think Kisaki is a pathetic brat who just happened to be smart, but right now, it’s like the both of them are connected and in tune with their thoughts. The tanned male stretches his lips into a smile, one full of malice and at the same time, glee, his eyes light with mirth when he realises what Kisaki was thinking.

Finally a plan he could follow along with.

“Alright, I’m all ears.”

THE walk back to your dorm was quiet.

By the time you managed to catch a bus after spending the entire day looking for a job and getting back to campus, it was already late in the night. Save for only the street lamps that were beginning to dim, everywhere else was darker than usual.

You had read that there was going to be a lunar eclipse tonight between the hours of 10pm - 00am. The time boldly written on the bus’ digital clock before you got down was 10:45pm, so you already assumed it was the cause of the unnatural darkness tonight.

A long time ago before the world weighed you down, things like this would have made you excited. You loved watching the stars when you were young, trying to check on the papers your father bought to see if there was any space news available. You remember borrowing your immediate elder brother’s binoculars as a makeshift telescope, trying to piece out the stars in the sky or see if you would catch a glimpse of the comet that was said to pass through that week.

Unfortunately, you were young and foolish. Wanting to impress your father, you told him all about your book of constellations that you drew up, detailing the first star that appeared every evening, down to your crazy childish theories about aliens and space.

“Can you show me the book?” your father asked calmly. You should have known it was dangerous for your father to be this calm, but you were too blinded by excitement to think and you gave him the book, a bright smile on your face.

Your smile fell as his large hands ripped your book into shreds, before telling you: “Women don’t dream.”

Maybe that was the day you realised the love you craved from your father will never be given to you. You were so young and impressionable, all you wanted was for him to be proud of you, like he was with his sons. Now, you can’t even look at the stars, the memory leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and you try to shake it off as you continue on the path.

You wondered what grievous sin you’ve committed to be so down on your luck like this. Today had been one disappointment to another

You passed by Emma’s dorm building, a sigh escaping your lips. She told you that Draken wanted to take her out for dinner tonight, which shocked you because friends with benefits - according to what Emma herself told you- don’t go on dates or do lovey dovey stuff with each other, to avoid complicated feelings from budding.

Then again, their relationship is based on the fact that they both have feelings for each other, but Draken was not interested in a relationship.

It was already complicated before it began but at least she's taking your advice and talking to them again.

Your eyes darted up to her window, hoping her lights were on. Whenever she was alone, Emma hated sleeping in the dark. She said it reminded her of the times her mother would lock her and Izana in a dark room whenever she brought her customers in. Anytime she was in a darkened room, she told you she could still hear the sound of her mother moaning and a man grunting. Izana would try his best to distract her, playing games or even stealing an earphone and plugging it to his own so that she would listen to music instead of what was going on.

A frown graced your lips when you saw two bodies from the curtain, one tall figure you recognize as Draken and Emma’s smaller dainty figure perched on him, kissing. You quickly averted your eyes and walked faster, ignoring the unfamiliar pang in your chest. Maybe you’re jealous because you needed your friend’s comfort right now and she wasn’t available. You felt greedy for this, after spending a week with her, you should let her be free.

‘She has her own life to live. And I have mine’ you muttered to yourself as you trudged along the path, slowly dragging your feet. ‘I have to stop being so dependent on her.’

Eventually, your thoughts drift back to your reoccurring dream. Losing your job made you realise that if you didn’t do anything about it, your tiredness would eventually catch up to you and ruin everything else you’ve worked for. With an important test scheduled for tomorrow, you knew you could not afford to take another loss this week. You had to power through your sleep tonight, even if it traumatised you.

‘Maybe I should pretend that I like it. Pretend it’s okay and enjoy it so that I won’t have to wake up.’ You shook your head, cursing as you drew closer to your own dorm building. ‘Oh God, how far I’ve fallen. Look at me trying to enjoy a disgraceful act-’

You paused in your tracks at the sound of a leaf crushing. You quickly turned around, trying to ascertain who could be lurking there behind the bushes. Your palms started sweating, your nerves firing at the thought of being watched.

Silence.

You decided to continue walking, assuming that maybe you were hearing things and there wasn’t anything at all. Nighttime always had a way of making you nervous, especially with all the horrible stories you heard about innocent women being attacked around these times. Besides, looking around for whatever may be lurking was a dumb idea.

You should just get out of here.

Eventually, you make it to your dorm house in record time, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. ‘Maybe I’m being paranoid. But at least I’m safe now.’ You think to yourself as you push the door open, closing it behind you.

Weary from the day’s stress, your body starts to give up on you but you push through, trying your best to just make it to your room. You’re sure you would just collapse on your bed the second you got there and forget about anything else.

You finally make it to your room, about to rummage your bag for the keys when you notice the door was unlocked. ‘Oh? Ami must have come back rather early, since I barely see her until 2am.’

(From here is edited)

But as you reach for the handle, a feeling of dread washes over you, the same one you felt when you were outside. ‘I really need to let this go. There’s no harm waiting for me. It’s just my room.’ You mutter to yourself. Your overthinking has cost you a lot, from your job to your academics and right now, you really need it to stop. Pushing whatever feeling was keeping you away, you walked into the darkened room.

The first thing that greeted you was the stench of some kind of smoke -weed, the kind that Ami liked to use whenever she was in the room. You always hated the smell and you recall telling her to leave the windows open whenever she wanted to smoke. Coughing, you quickly covered your nose and mouth with one hand and reached to turn on the light with another. “Ami, how many times have I told you to open the window whenever you smoke? You know I don’t like the smell-”

Your blood turns to ice the moment light floods the room, your mouth dry as you stare at the man perched on your reading chair, a leg crossed over the other, the weed blunt hanging between his tanned hands. His lips are stretched into a sick grin, showing all his teeth, purple eyes shining with an odd mirth as he glances at you up and down.

Izana Kurokawa.

‘Run’

You don’t need to be told twice, quickly discarding your bag and running towards the direction of the door, only to hit someone hard, standing tall in your way. You look up fearfully to see mismatched eyes, a scar running down his face and flinch backwards in reflex. It’s as if he gazes at you with pity, but quickly switches to a blank stare as he stands between you and the door.

You know him from hanging around Emma a lot in the Tenjiku frat house, Kakucho. He’s always around Izana and only loyal to him for some reason that you don’t know. He doesn’t listen to anyone else, not even Mikey. You realise that he might have been the one that was following you when you were walking home.

Begging him to let you pass would be futile.

“Don’t worry, I’m just here to have a little chat with you. I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone is calm, but it doesn’t bring you any comfort. If Mikey could hurt you without any remorse, then there’s nothing stopping Izana from doing worse to you. “And as much as your backside is as interesting as your face, I prefer talking to someone who is looking at me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” The words fly out from your mouth before you even think of a more appropriate response but it doesn’t seem to give him any form of reaction other than a dry laugh.

He scoffed. “I don’t care. Turn around.”

Reluctantly you slowly turn to face him again, your body trembling as your fear filled eyes lock with his. Your heart drops to your stomach when you hear heavy footsteps walk out of the door, shutting it behind you, locks turning and trapping you with Izana.

‘Oh God oh God oh God.’

Your fear doesn’t go unnoticed by the white haired man, and he only chuckles at how stiff you were. Between the two brothers, you know Izana thrives in fear, using it to his advantage and it’s not unfounded. Notwithstanding his backing from Black dragons, Izana had taken Tenjiku from a down and out frat house, to a den of crime that holds power, trickling right into the administration of the university. Even his men know better than to ever get themselves in his bad books, because no one can ever escape him, no matter how much you try to run.

It was only a matter of time until he would make you pay for causing him problems, but you didn’t think he’d come by himself. You felt stupid for thinking he wouldn’t care about you or he’d forget how angry he was at you and leave you alone, especially with Emma still not on speaking terms with them.

He motions with his bunt for you to come closer to him and you comply, taking careful steps until you’re standing right in front of him. He eyes you again with a tepid frown. “When you meet a king, you don’t stand before him, you kneel.”

Kneel. You want to assume he’s not serious but you know better than to question him and go down on your knees, focusing your gaze firmly on your lap. It’s humiliating the way he has you at his mercy, without even moving an inch but it’s better to be compliant than to aggravate him even further by being disobedient.

You’ve learned the hard way what could happen if you resist.

From the corner of your eyes, you watch as Izana puts out his weed blunt on your reading table leaving a sorching mark on the table, before reaching behind his waistband. Your mouth grows dry the second you see the gun, your heart pounding against your chest as he presses the barrel to your head.

‘Oh god.’ You gasp as he presses it further against your head, until you’re sure it would leave an indent. ‘He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me…’

“That’s odd,” He murmurs. “Usually, other people would be begging for their lives when met with a gun to their head, but you’re quiet. If not for the way your hands are trembling, I’d think you weren’t scared.”

This time, with a gun pointed at your head, you’re careful with your words. “Y-you said you won’t hurt me.” Your voice shakes with fear but you continue. You know men like Izana, he reminds you of your older brother who ruled the house apart from your father, with fear and control. Sometimes, when you were able to stroke his ego, he’d go easy on you. Maybe that would work on Izana too. “That you want to talk.”

“And what if I changed my mind? Pulled the trigger? That’ll make my life easier, yeah? I won’t have to fight for my sister’s love and affection with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear the safety go off and watch as his finger curls around the trigger. ‘Oh God, he’s going to kill me. He’ll shoot me dead. I-i have to say something- I don’t want to die-’

“I-i trust you not to do it.” You reply, your lips trembling as you struggle not to think of your head scattered into pieces on the floor if he chooses to kill you. “You’re a man of your words.”

There’s another complete silence that engulfs the entire room, until you hear a click that makes you flinch for a split second, waiting for the bullet that would end it all. Instead, it’s him putting the safety back on, and chuckling at your reaction.

“You trust me? How foolish.” He laughs, tracing the gun from your head down to underneath your chin and forcing you to look up at him. You’ve only read about people with empty eyes in stories, but seeing it in person was so terrifying. “Is that why you ended up with Mikey in his car?”

All the blood rushes from your head to the tip of your toes. “H-how do you kn-”

“I have eyes and ears in this school, (name).” You’re sure it’s the first time you’ve heard him call you by your name and despite being in a life or death situation, you couldn’t control the shiver that ran through your spine. “You wanted him to touch you, right?”

“T-that is not what happened!” You suddenly cried out, trying to explain your own side of the story. Of all the people who know your dirty and shameful secret, Izana is the worst pick, just your luck. “It was a mistake! I tried to tell him I didn’t want it but I couldn’t-”

“Ah ah -” Izana cuts you off, tilting your chin higher with the gun. “Don’t lie to me. You must have planned the entire thing to make Mikey look bad”

“No! I wasn’t trying to do anything, I just wanted to talk-”

“Really? Cause Mikey told me an entirely different story-”

“No, no I- didn’t… -”

“You were dangling yourself like a piece of meat for him to fuck and he’s a man, you know. He has urges and it's hard to resist temptation.”

“That’s not true-” your lips start to tremble at his words, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to be assaulted, you just wanted to talk to him about the Emma issue and you wanted to apologise. “That’s not true-”

“Oh but it is.” He said firmly, now leaning in closer to your face until there’s barely any inches between the two of you. “And now Mikey feels like a piece of shit because he couldn’t stop himself.”

“No-” your voice is small, trying to defend yourself but even you are beginning to doubt your own credibility with how he keeps twisting the narrative around until you begin to actually believe him.

‘No! Don’t let him make you think you’re in the wrong! You know what happened!’

“He even told you to leave but you refused to. You were baiting him to just do something to you so that you can tell everyone how bad Mikey is and make yourself get more sympathy points. Am I wrong?”

“No! I would never do that to Mikey!” You don’t realise your tempo had suddenly gotten high or that tears had started to drip down your face, but Izana did. He doesn’t point it out, staying quiet as you start to shout at him. “I would never bait him into hurting me! I just wanted to make up with him because I felt that I overreacted at the party I swear! And then he touched me in the car -”

“And you never reported him to the school authorities? Why? Did you want to blackmail him for money-”

“Because I love him!”

The words flew out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself from saying them.

Your heart drops as a mischievious glint appears in Izana’s eyes. His smile drops slightly, still maintaining the gun on your chin. “You love him?” He says slowly, testing out the words on his lips. “Love? Mikey?” He looks so deep in thought, like the concept sounds so foreign to him that he almost can’t believe it. His gaze falls back to you again, a quiet scoff emanating from his lips. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Unable to maintain eye contact with him, you break away from his gaze, biting down on your lips to prevent yourself from falling apart. When you don’t respond, Izana takes your silence as an opportunity to keep talking. “If you love him so much, then what’s wrong with what you both did in the car that day? It was what you wanted, wasn't it?”

“Not like that…”

“But you claim to love him.” Izana is calm and cool, while you’re stuttering on your words, making you look like you’re the one who is wrong. Like what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense to begin with and he’s the one saying something of reason. “And yet, you didn’t even notice he wasn’t himself that day. Or did you take advantage of his fragile state of mind?”

“I would NEVER-”

“You would, because you get to be the so-called victim and he gets to be the villain in your own story. Do you really know the implication of your actions?”

“That’s not right.” You don’t even realize how quiet you’ve gotten, your voice full of uncertainity. “I didn’t … it’s not…”

“Shut up.” He cuts you off again with a firm tone, tapping the gun on your chin gently to enunciate his point. “The reason why I haven’t put a bullet through your head as much as I want to is because I love Emma. I love Emma so much I’d kill for her and I’d resist the urge to kill for her. That’s how Sano’s love. That’s true love. That's something you'll never ever experience.”

You stay silent, trying to understand what exactly Izana was calling love. He leaned closer, making you feel even smaller. “If Emma finds out, she’ll think Mikey intentionally hurt you and she will hate him. But I guess that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Never. I don’t want her to hate him” your inner voice telling you it’s not your fault, is nothing more than a whisper, the feeling of guilt and shame overtaking you until you’re almost suffocating. “I just want them to be happy…”

“Then you know exactly what you’re meant to do, right?”

Of course you know what to do. Ever since you were child, it’s been drilled into your head. Whenever your brothers hit you a bit too hard or your father went overboard with his belt and you ended up in the hospital, your mother would take you aside to issue a warning that still rings in your head. That had terrible consequences if you refused to follow through with it.

You nod weakly. It really doesn’t matter what is right and wrong when it comes to the Sano’s, but what they want. Izana taps the gun on your chin again, shaking his head. “I need a verbal answer.”

“I won’t tell anybody what happened. Especially not Emma.”

Satisfied, he withdrew his gun from your chin and your face falls onto his lap, unable to support your head any longer. You feel a hand reaching down to pet your head, like you were a dog who had just been tamed by her new owner. The strength to push him off or stand up had left you, feeling drained as the weight of guilt settle down on your shoulders, heavily. You know you shouldn’t believe anything Izana says, but then again he does have a point. Maybe you should have been more receptive of Mikey’s touch or at least be polite about declining him instead of shoving him off and hurting his pride.

You feel so utterly powerless. Despite being wronged, you know there’s nothing you can really do to save yourself. You don’t think you can bear the traumatic experience of being an outlier again.

Mikey. You don’t want to hurt him. You don’t want anyone thinking he’s a bad person over a singular action.

'Maybe it’s not as bad as I think, I did enjoy it mid-way, so it should count as something. Right?'

You feel sick just trying to think about it.

“You know, if you’re this obedient, we can get along just fine.” He hums, breaking the silence as he pets your head gently. You hate yourself right now. How easy it is to do whatever it is that you’re told because disobedience is not an option. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to know what I’ll do to you if you break your promise.”

“No” your voice is quiet. You feel tired, sick maybe, you don’t know. Maybe it’s the weed he smoked earlier affecting your judgement and reasoning. Or it’s the lack of sleep that has made it difficult for you to think straight or stand up. Either way, you don’t care. “I don’t.”

“Good girl.”

You know he’s mocking you, but you accept it, like you do with every circumstance thrown at you.

Bonus:

IZANA looks down at your sleeping figure with a curious gaze.

For a moment, he almost pities you. Despite the faint glow of the room lighting, he can see the dark circles underneath your eyes and how stressed you look. For someone who is actively working to pay her fees while sustaining herself with no one caring for her, it must be hard being abandoned by society.

He can see why Emma picked you to be her friend, she always had a trait of picking up stray animals who had no one because she wanted something to protect. It’s no different with you, the way she’s so fiercely loyal to you and why she wanted you to be accepted by their family. No wonder she was hurt when you were vehemently rejected by them.

If he had a conscience, he’d feel bad for you. You love Mikey, of all people, someone who only saw you as a nuisance and to push the blame of his actions onto. All those times Mikey was cruel to you must have hurt the most because you truly cared about what he thinks about you.

He’s careful when he lifts your head from his lap, not wanting to wake you up. He puts your head on the chair and turns to leave, already overstaying his welcome. He’s done the thing he was supposed to, ensuring you stayed quiet about Mikey’s actions and there’s no need for him to be here any longer.

As he walked to the door, his mind goes back to you. In a way, you and him were similar. All alone, unwanted, with nobody in the world to care about you, cold, uncaring parents who didn’t think twice in terms of abandoning you both. The only difference between you and him is that he grew a backbone and you haven’t. You’re like a kicked dog who continues to stay on the ground to get kicked, in hopes the person kicking you stops eventually.

As long as you stay on the ground, people like him will keep kicking you.

He knocks loudly on the door and the locks turn. Kakucho opens it for him, peering inside with a worried gaze, his eyes settling on your body slumped over a chair.

“Did you hit -”

“I didn’t touch her.” Izana snaps at the taller male, stepping out of the room properly. “She’s fine, physically at least. Emotionally she’s a mess. But that’s Mikey’s problem to fix.”

“Huh?”

It wouldn’t hurt to tell Kakucho your little secret. “Apparently (name)’s in love with my dear brother Mikey so she’s keeping quiet what he did to her.” a cruel smile stretches across his face. “How pathetic.”

Kakucho frowns at Izana’s statement, but as usual he doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, his eye darts back to your form again, taking a good look at you, his eyes softening. Ever the gentleman.

“She shouldn’t really stay like that Izana, she’ll get a stiff neck-”

“Kakucho.”

That was enough to end the conversation.

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capuccinodoll · 2 months ago

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The boyfriend act, part 10: "The one with the skydiving" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: It’s the day after the wedding, and you and Frankie aren’t being too open about it. You jump together, and it makes sense, of course, that you fall. WC: 8.6K

A/N: Okay, so here’s what happened: I started writing chapter 10 and just kept going and going, and before I knew it, it was WAY too long. So, I split it in two. This is chapter 10, and chapter 11 will be up sometime between tomorrow and monday because, honestly, I can’t wait to share it!!! lol If you want to be in the tag list, let me know. Don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications! LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!

Frankie was the first to wake.

He lay on his side, eyes half-lidded, his body heavy with the kind of exhaustion that doesn’t fade overnight. For a few seconds—four, maybe five—he simply existed in the quiet, his mind sluggish, untangling the fog of sleep. And then he remembered.

The previous night played back in pieces: your hands, the soft drag of your voice, the way you had looked at him. He exhaled, the air catching in his throat as his gaze settled on you. Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting pale streaks across your bare shoulder. You were still asleep, your breathing even, your face turned slightly away from him. You looked peaceful. That was the first thing that unnerved him.

The second was the sharp vibration of his phone on the nightstand. The sound cut through the silence like an alarm meant for something urgent, something ominous. Get up. Get out. Now.

For a fleeting, desperate moment, he considered it. Panic gripped him, quick and suffocating. It would be easier to leave. Slip out before you woke, before you had the chance to regret anything. Before you could look at him with the kind of quiet disappointment that would make his chest ache for days.

But he couldn’t do that. Not to you. Not to himself.

If you woke and found him gone, it would undo everything—the slow, careful progress of the past few days. He wasn’t sure what that progress meant, not exactly, but he knew it mattered. And he wasn’t ready to lose it.

So he stayed.

He reached for his phone, silencing the alarm with a swipe of his thumb. 8:00 a.m. His eyes burned, his head ached, but he closed them again, let himself drift in the shallow space between sleep and wakefulness.

When he opened them again, he startled, instinctively checking the time. Only twenty minutes had passed.

He supposed the rational thing to do would be to wake you. Shake your shoulder gently, say your name, ease you into consciousness before the weight of the morning settled in.

But then he turned his head and saw you, exactly as you had been hours ago. You hadn’t moved. Still curled on your side, facing him, one hand tucked beneath your jaw. Your breathing steady, your face soft, undisturbed. He had never seen you like this—so completely at ease, as if the world beyond this bed didn’t exist.

And so he stayed quiet. Let another moment pass before dragging you into the aftermath of what you’d done. Another moment before you opened your eyes and saw him there, before recognition flickered across your face, before regret had the chance to settle in your expression like a bruise.

So he watched you instead. Two, maybe three minutes of memorizing you, as if his mind had no choice but to press the image of you deeper and deeper into itself. The curve of your brows, the dark shadow of your lashes against your cheek, the fullness of your lips—soft, inviting, impossibly close. His own breath felt unnatural in his chest, too aware of itself, too careful.

Something shifted in him then, a pulse of warmth in his ribs that curled low in his stomach, spreading outward like a lit fuse. Familiar. Dangerous. His throat tightened. His fingers twitched against the sheets. And then, just as quickly, something cold followed—a sharp, sinking understanding. It was too late.

Too late. Something changed.

Almost without thinking—acting on impulse, or maybe just a need to break the silence pressing in on him—Frankie reached out and let his fingers brush against your shoulder. A light touch, barely there. You shifted, just slightly, but didn’t wake.

For a second, he considered letting you sleep a little longer. So he let his gaze wander around the room, taking in details he had never really considered before. He had been here before, of course, but never like this, never with the luxury of stillness. The dresser at the foot of the bed held a neat row of books, their spines softened from use, stacked beside two picture frames. One of you and Emma, arms around each other, grinning at the camera. The other, a quieter moment—your face turned toward your father, something warm and unguarded in your expression. Above it all, the television hung dark and unlit, a black void against the pale wall.

On the floor, a scattering of shoes—heels, mostly. He imagined you stepping into them, then stepping out just as quickly, discarding them in favor of something better. By the window, a chair, half-buried under a pile of clothes, as if you had thrown them there in a hurry, already thinking about something else. He could see you doing it. He could see you standing there, sighing, pressing your fingers to your temples before turning away.

Then, a sound. A quiet, insistent scratch, followed by a high, barely-there meow.

He exhaled, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and pushed himself up. The floor was cool against his feet as he walked to the door. When he cracked it open, a small shape darted in—Mr. Darcy, tail held high, back slightly arched as he rubbed himself against Frankie’s legs with a kind of determined affection.

“Good morning,” Frankie murmured, crouching down to run a hand over the cat’s head. Mr. Darcy blinked up at him, then pushed his face into Frankie’s palm before pulling away again.

He turned back toward the hallway, his green eyes wide and expectant, then let out another quiet meow.

Frankie frowned. “What’s up, buddy?” The cat meowed again. “You hungry? Thirsty?”

Mr. Darcy flicked his tail, like maybe he wasn’t impressed with the question, like maybe Frankie should already know the answer.

The cat turned without hesitation and padded down the hallway, glancing back just once, as if to make sure Frankie understood. He did. His instructions were clear. So, he followed.

When he caught up, Darcy had already settled beside an empty dish, sitting upright, his tail curled neatly around his paws. He flicked his gaze between Frankie and the bowl, expectant.

“Yeah, you’re hungry,” Frankie observed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped closer. He glanced toward the cabinets, exhaling. He had no idea where you kept the food, and he didn’t want to make a mess looking for it. Still, he crouched down, opened one door, then another, moving carefully, aware that he was rummaging through someone else’s kitchen. Eventually, he found what he was looking for—a nearly full container pushed toward the back of a shelf.

Behind him, Darcy let out a pleased little chirp of approval. Frankie huffed a quiet laugh.

“I don’t know if she feeds you at this hour, buddy,” he said, unscrewing the lid. “You better not get me in trouble.”

He crouched again, tipping just the right amount into the dish. Darcy immediately dipped his head, ears twitching as he focused on his meal, content and undisturbed. Frankie lingered for a moment, watching him eat, then sealed the container and put it back where he’d found it.

The apartment was quiet. He pressed his hands against the counter, letting his weight settle there for a beat. Darcy crunched his food, unconcerned.

Standing there, he let his gaze drift across your living room. His jacket was still slung over the armchair, exactly where he’d left it the night before, and your journal—left open, pages curling slightly at the edges—sat on the coffee table. The sight of it sent something uneasy through him, like he had glimpsed a version of himself that didn’t quite make sense.

What the hell was he doing?

Why was he here, in your house, moving through your space with an ease that should have felt unnatural but didn’t? Feeding your cat like it was just another part of his morning routine, like he had done it a hundred times before. Even the smell of your apartment—faint traces of coffee, something floral, something unmistakably you—felt familiar in a way it shouldn’t. As if he had spent more time here than he actually had.

It didn’t add up. And it was unsettling, wrong. He had no reason to feel this comfortable.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

A month ago, he could barely stand you. And you—well, you had made it very clear the feeling was mutual. It hadn’t even been two months since he first stepped into your apartment and you had greeted him with a can of Coke and a look that could’ve frozen him solid. Not even two months since Santiago had taken one look at the two of you and laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all.

The quiet stretched between him and the sound of Darcy’s methodical chewing. He needed to wake you up. To say something, to break whatever spell had settled over this moment before it unraveled into something he wouldn’t know how to explain.

He pushed himself up from the counter, rubbing a hand over his face as if that might help shake off the lingering heaviness of sleep. The apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that made him move softer, more aware of the space he was in. He took a quick detour to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, running a hand through his hair. It didn’t do much, but it was enough. Then he turned back toward your room.

You were still there, curled up beneath the sheets, your breathing deep and steady. Sleep clung to you like a second skin. He wondered, briefly, if you’d been comfortable like that, in last night’s dress, or if it had twisted around you in ways that made it impossible to rest.

His shoes were at the edge of your bed. He reached for them, moving carefully, the quiet feeling heavier now that he was trying not to break it. Slipping them on, he walked back to where he’d been sitting not long ago and lowered himself onto the mattress beside you.

His fingers found your shoulder, his touch featherlight, testing. He said your name, soft, careful. You didn’t stir. Instead, you let out a small, sleepy sound—one of those drowsy, unwilling whimpers, the kind kids make when they’re being nudged awake too early for school.

He tried again, his fingertips grazing over your skin, your name forming once more on his lips. This time, your eyes fluttered open.

Frankie watched you, still and waiting. He braced himself for something—confusion, regret, the sharp edge of a boundary being drawn.

But instead, you smiled.

“Hey,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, I—”

“What time is it?”

Frankie glanced at his phone, the screen too bright in the dim light of the room. “Quarter to nine.”

“Oh,” you murmured, shifting beneath the sheets as you pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes. “Shit, my makeup. I probably look like a panda.”

You sat up, blinking the sleep from your eyes, and fixed him with a squint, like you were still adjusting to the light—or maybe to the sight of him sitting there.

“Have you been up long?” You asked.

“A little while.” He leaned back slightly, rubbing a hand over his knee. “I fed Darcy. Hope that’s okay.”

“Ah, well.” You stretched your arms over your head, then you exhaled, your words lost for a moment in a yawn. “That’s all right.”

Then you looked at him, really looked at him, your face still and unreadable in the quiet.

Frankie held your gaze, steady at first, until something in his chest tightened. He looked down at his lap.

“You feeling okay?” His voice was quieter now, less sure.

“Yeah. You?”

“Good. Not hungover?” He tilted his head, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“I need coffee.”

Frankie huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Me too.”

“I’ll make some.” You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, stretching again before padding toward the door. “Feel well enough to jump out of an airplane?”

He smirked, mirroring your movement as he got up and followed.

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.” His footsteps were heavy behind you as you made your way to the kitchen. “I feel good. What about you?”

“I’m not missing that jump,” you said, throwing him a glance as you opened the fridge. You grabbed a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and handed it to him. He took it without thinking, his fingers brushing over yours for a brief second. “What time should we leave?”

“Ten o’clock sounds good.”

Your eyes flicked open wider, a spark of surprise breaking through the haze of sleep. “That’s in an hour.”

“That’s right.” Frankie lifted the bottle to his lips, tipping it back as he swallowed. The cold water cut through the dryness in his throat, and he gestured vaguely with the bottle before setting it back down. “I’ll go home, take a shower, and come back for you. That okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. That’s fine. A shower sounds amazing.”

Frankie huffed out a quiet laugh. “Okay.”

He placed the bottle on the counter beside you and stepped toward the living room, grabbing his jacket from where he’d tossed it the night before.

“Aren’t you going to have coffee?”

“When I get back, okay?”

You nodded again, though the hesitation in your face made him grin. Jacket draped over his arm, hair still a mess from the night, he walked back toward you.

“I’ll see you in a bit. Get ready—wear something comfortable.”

And then, before he could think about it, before he could stop himself, he leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek.

It was brief, barely a second, but the warmth of your skin stayed with him as he pulled back. The realization of what he’d just done settled in immediately, heat rising up the back of his neck. He turned away, walking toward the door, suddenly hyperaware of his own movements.

“Uh—wear, um—wear comfortable shoes,” he added, grasping for something to say.

His hand was on the doorknob when he finally glanced back at you. Your expression unreadable, your posture relaxed, still tucked into the kitchen like you hadn’t quite caught up to the moment either.

“I’ll be back,” he said, voice quieter now. Then, after a beat, “I’ll be right back.”

“Bye, Francisco,” you murmured, your voice soft.

Frankie pulled the door shut behind him and took the stairs two at a time, his heartbeat a little too quick, his breath coming out in uneven bursts. His body felt too warm, like he’d just stepped out of a too-hot shower, but at the same time, his hands were cold. By the time he reached the front door and stepped outside, the cool morning air hit his face, soft and bracing all at once. It felt like a reset. Like a kiss against his overheated skin.

But the relief was short-lived.

A creeping discomfort settled in his chest, something uneasy and unformed. You hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t flinched or looked at him funny. No wide-eyed stare, no awkward shifting. It was like nothing had happened.

Hadn’t it?

Maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe you’d already forgotten.

But—no. He was almost sure you weren’t drunk enough to forget something like that. Almost. And yet, the possibility wedged itself into his mind, refusing to be dismissed.

Had you forgotten?

Or worse—had it just meant nothing?

Christ.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face as he crossed the street.

What the hell had he been thinking?

“Nothing. It was like nothing happened.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at you from the video call, her face filling most of your screen as you propped your phone up on the nightstand. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, pulling on your sneakers, hair still damp from the shower. The conversation had been going since you stepped out, and you had told her everything. Everything.

“Would you have liked him to say something about it,” she asked, tilting her head, “or am I imagining that?”

“Yes,” you admitted without hesitation, before catching yourself. You glanced at the screen. “I mean—see, we almost fucked last night. That doesn’t exactly seem insignificant.”

“What surprises me most is that you even kissed.” She folded her arms, looking personally offended. “When exactly were you going to tell me things had changed this much? I feel like I’ve been lied to.”

“I did tell you we kissed.”

“You told me you kissed at his mother’s birthday. Pretend kissed. For show. That’s very different from actually kissing.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you tied the laces of your shoes. “That was all that had happened until last night. I wasn’t keeping anything from you. Don’t be toxic.”

Emma scoffed, unconvinced. “So just the staged kiss at Helena’s birthday, and then last night?”

“Exactly.” You stood up, grabbing your phone and holding it closer.

She hummed, unconvinced. “Sounds like a lot more than nothing, babe.”

You pursed your lips, shaking your head at her, but the truth of it was sitting somewhere in your chest, annoying and persistent.

“Yeah, well, apparently we’re pretending it didn’t happen.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Don’t wait for him to bring it up. You bring it up. He’s probably overthinking it, freaking out, or some dumb shit like that. It’s not like your relationship is the most normal one in the world.”

“You’re not wrong about that.”

“Exactly. So say something.”

You groaned, tilting your head back. “I won’t.”

“Coward.”

“That’s not true!”

“Are you afraid of what he’s going to say?”

“No,” you said, forcing a smile. “It’s just—awkward, isn’t it? We almost slept together. Am I supposed to pretend like nothing happened? Good God, he saw me half-naked.”

Emma’s eyes widened in exaggerated shock. “No way. Francisco Morales saw you naked? That’s it, you’re going to disintegrate. It was nice knowing you.”

You didn’t laugh. Instead, heat crawled up your neck, settling in your cheeks like a second-degree burn. You groaned, pressing a hand over your face, shaking your head as if that would somehow undo everything.

“This can’t be happening, Emma. Francisco. We’re talking about Francisco. Francisco the obnoxious. Francisco the asshole. Santiago’s Francisco. What the fuck did I do? I completely fucked up.”

Emma sighed, tucking her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she walked through her apartment.

“Uh-huh. You didn’t fuck anything up. Nothing would’ve happened if he wasn’t up for it too, honey.” She adjusted the camera so she could look directly at you. “This is—listen to me.” Her voice softened slightly. “It happened, okay? And you need to deal with that. It’s not your fault, and it’s not his fault. Jesus, you’re two horny adults who almost slept together. That’s all.”

You let out a miserable groan, dropping back onto your bed.

“It’s humiliating. ‘You’re Santi’s sister.’” You mimicked his voice, rolling your eyes at yourself. “Fuck. I don’t even know what’s going on.”

Emma went quiet then, watching you carefully through the screen.

Your stomach twisted. “What?” you asked, more impatiently than you intended.

She didn’t blink. “You like him.”

The words hit like a sharp, well-aimed dart, right in the center of your chest. For a second, you didn’t move.

“No.” The denial left your lips automatically, even as you stayed perfectly still.

Emma’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Yes, sweetheart. You like him.”

“That’s not true.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I don’t like Francisco.”

Her lips twitched, like she was holding back laughter, her eyes bright with something unbearably smug.

“You like Francisco.”

“Emma, listen to me. I don’t like him. I can’t like him. It’s not possible. It’s not—” You searched for the right word, your brain scrambling. “It’s not functional.”

She barked out a laugh. “Functional?”

“Yes, functional,” you snapped. “He’s my brother’s best friend. He’s—he’s Francisco.” As if that alone should be enough. “Do you know what would happen if something like that happened? No—no, it’s not—”

Emma cut in before you could spiral further. “If the only excuse you can come up with for not letting yourself think about him that way is that he’s Santi’s friend, then, babe, that’s not a good enough reason.” She leaned closer to the camera, her voice firm. “And honestly, what does that even have to do with anything? You can like him. You don’t choose who you’re attracted to. It just happens.”

You pressed your lips together, heart hammering.

“And look,” she continued, “you know I don’t like him very much. I’ve spent years listening to you complain about him, about all the shit he’s said to you, the way he acted. I wanted to kill him. It sucked. But everything you’ve been telling me lately?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It sounds convincing. All that stuff about confusion and about that night ages ago—” She exhaled. “I have good judgment. Really good judgment. And you know it.”

“I know.”

“I believe him. I don’t think he’s that bad. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with liking him either.”

“I told you—”

“Yes, and I don’t believe you.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head like she could see straight through you. “I’ve known you for twenty years; you can’t lie to me. It’s in your eyes. And that whole thing that happened last night, at the wedding? Are you fucking kidding me? That was hot.”

You let out a laugh, but it felt thin, forced. “Yeah, it was hot. But he wasn’t serious. He was just teasing me. He likes to do that—play with me. And since we don’t fight anymore, he’s just… trying to beat me at something else.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “I doubt a man would be that creative. He likes you.”

You opened your mouth, but she didn’t give you the chance.

“He told you he wouldn’t regret it in the morning. For God’s sake, are you kidding me?”

“He was drunk.”

She scoffed. “Even you don’t believe that.”

“Emma—”

“Okay.” She held up a hand. “Fine. I get it. It’s complicated. Just… think about it, consider it. There’s nothing wrong with liking someone.”

You stared at her through the screen, your chest tightening.

“It’s Francisco.”

Emma shrugged. “And you’re you. So?”

Your throat felt tight. You looked at her, doubt settling over you like a weight you weren’t prepared to carry.

“I don’t even know if he wants to talk about it,” you admitted. “The easiest thing to do is just… pretend it didn’t happen. That it was a mistake, that we were drunk, and…” You exhaled sharply. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I know, I get it.” Emma’s voice softened, but her words carried a quiet insistence. “But listen—he was there when you woke up. He didn’t leave. He fed your cat, for crying out loud. And after you woke up? He didn’t run off. He could have come up with an excuse to bail on the skydiving, couldn’t he? He could’ve said he was hungover, or in pain, or—hell, anything. But he didn’t. He stayed.”

As she spoke, a strange warmth spread across your chest, curling into your stomach. She was right. The easy way out was always within reach. But Frankie hadn’t taken it. Instead, he had kept pushing forward, right there with you, even if his reasons remained unclear. He kept showing up. Helping with the list, coming up with ideas, and maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t out of guilt. Maybe it was something else. But he was still there.

You let out a quiet breath.

“You really want it to be that simple,” you said softly, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. “But it’s complicated. I… I need to take it one step at a time.”

“That’s acceptable.”

Almost as if on cue, the doorbell rang, sharp and sudden, making you jump.

Emma laughed. “First step: open the door for him.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress a reluctant chuckle.

“I have to go, but I promise I’ll write you later, okay?”

“Don’t forget to send me a picture of you in the sky.”

“I won't.” You smiled, feeling a little lighter than before.

“And don’t forget to think about what I told you.”

“Believe me, I won’t.”

Frankie set his hand against the doorframe, then thought better of it and pulled away. He took a half step back, creating space between himself and the entrance, listening to the faint sound of your voice from the other side. You were laughing, saying something too low for him to catch.

It was 10:05 a.m. He made a point of being on time. He’d showered quickly, dressed even faster. He hadn’t managed a sip of coffee before leaving, and now the late-morning heat pressed against his skin, settling in the fabric of his shirt. But he felt all right, better than an hour ago. His hair, still faintly damp from the shower, was hidden beneath a dark gray cap. His clothes were light—a black t-shirt, chino shorts.

When you opened the door, you were smiling, phone in hand, still halfway inside whatever conversation you’d been having a minute ago.

"Right on time," you said, stepping aside so he could come in.

He moved past you, eyes flicking toward you, careful and quick. Black denim shorts, a fitted white t-shirt, hair pulled back. You turned, already moving toward the stairs, and he followed, gaze fixed firmly on the steps, refusing to look at you in any way that might betray something unspoken. Especially not from that angle.

"I'm ready now, okay? Just need to check everything before we go," you said, disappearing into the apartment. Then, a brief glance back at him, like you were remembering something. "Have you had coffee?"

"No. You?"

"No," you said, already in the kitchen. You reached for Mr. Darcy’s saucer, filling it with water, your movements practiced, unthinking. His food bowl was still half full.

Frankie watched as you moved through the apartment, methodically shutting windows, pulling curtains closed with a practiced ease. The light shifted, dimming slightly, the space growing cooler. You grabbed your purse from the coffee table and walked toward the door, stopping beside him, your fingers curling around the doorknob.

"We can grab coffee before we head out," you said, looking up at him.

Frankie stepped over the threshold as you turned, shutting the door behind you. The lock clicked into place.

"Sounds good. I wouldn’t go for anything too heavy, though."

"But I’m craving something good," you said, already making your way down the stairs. "Aren’t you?"

He followed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe. I think we deserve it."

"I think so too."

At the bottom of the stairs, you opened the door, and he stepped out first. You locked up behind him, and as you turned, the movement sent a whisper of your perfume into the warm air between you. Clean, floral—like early summer mornings, fresh and soft.

"Come with me, it'll be quick," you said, already walking, not bothering to check if he was following.

Of course, he was. His gaze flickered over the back of your neck, the line of your spine, the curve of your shoulders, the way your arms swung naturally at your sides. Then lower—to your legs, to the sway of your hips, to the way your shorts sat on your body as you moved.

Frankie cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away, his hand ghosting to the back of his neck like it might ground him.

You walked a little further before stopping in front of a coffee shop. The storefront was charming, the kind of place that felt tucked away even when it was right in front of you. Through the window, people sat scattered at small tables, quiet in the hush of the morning.

You pulled open the door, and a rush of cool air greeted you both, a welcome contrast to the warmth outside. Frankie followed as you stepped in, scanning the space as you joined the line. Only one person stood ahead of you.

"The coffee here is really good," you murmured, leaning in slightly, your voice just for him. "And if you're getting something to eat, I recommend the blueberry cupcakes and the glazed donuts. The coconut cake is great too."

Frankie tilted his head, lowering his voice to match yours. "I’ll probably just get whatever’s easiest to eat in the car, to be honest."

You grinned, eyes bright with amusement. "No need. Order whatever you want—I can feed you while you drive."

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "That actually sounds kind of fun."

"Of course it does. I’m very skilled with the little airplane method."

Frankie laughed again but didn’t respond, his attention drifting to the glass display case lined with pastries. Donuts were the practical choice—no mess, no crumbs, nothing that would end up in his lap while he drove.

The woman ahead of you collected her order and stepped aside, moving toward the pickup counter, where cups of coffee were lined up in neat rows. Behind the counter, a barista worked quickly, pouring shots of espresso, scribbling names onto cups with a black marker.

You stepped forward, and the man at the register greeted you with an easy smile. Frankie moved up beside you, resting one hand on the counter, the other settling on his hip.

"It’s always good to see you," the guy said, his tone warm, familiar. "Made my morning, actually. I was thinking about stopping by to see you yesterday."

Frankie’s eyes flicked up, attention sharpening.

You smiled, and something in your body language shifted—smaller, softer. Shy, maybe.

"Oh yeah?" you asked, tilting your head. "Any particular reason?"

Frankie’s gaze slid from your profile to the man behind the counter. Was he invisible?

"Yeah, actually. Two reasons," the guy said. "One—I need a book recommendation for my mom. And two, well, that one’s a little more complicated." He lowered his voice slightly. "I was wondering if we could talk later, if you have time. Nothing weird, don’t worry."

Frankie cleared his throat, glancing away before looking back at you. You nodded, your expression unreadable but amused.

"Sure," you said. "Are you going to be here later?"

"I'm afraid I'm only here until noon today," he said, leaning slightly against the counter. "But I can swing by the bookstore later if you want, after closing."

You nodded, but then your gaze flickered to Frankie, like you’d just remembered he was there.

"Oh, I won’t be in, sorry," you said easily. "We’ll be skydiving."

Frankie glanced at you, catching the flash of amusement in your eyes, the way you said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. A quiet sort of pride sat beneath your words, like you were pleased with yourself for saying it out loud.

Then, as if just realizing, you gestured between them. "This is Frankie, by the way."

The stranger’s smile didn’t falter as he turned to him.

"Oh, nice to meet you, Frankie," he said, extending a hand. "I’m Bill."

Frankie reached out at an unhurried pace, his grip firm but easy, a small, unreadable smile on his lips.

"Bill. Nice to meet you. I heard the coffee here is good."

Bill’s face lit up a little more at the comment. "I hope so. Let me know what you think. First time here?"

Frankie gave a single nod.

"It is," you answered at the same time, looking at him with a knowing smile.

"Well, then," Bill said, resting his hands on the counter, "it’s on the house. Take your pick."

Frankie straightened slightly. "Oh, no need."

Bill mirrored the movement, studying him.

"No, I’m serious. Whatever you want." Then he shifted his gaze back to you, his voice taking on an easy familiarity. "Actually, you and I had an arrangement, didn’t we?"

You let out a quiet laugh, your fingers brushing against the side of your neck, a movement Frankie caught.

"That still stands?" you asked.

"Of course," the man said. "Anything for my favorite book dealer."

The laugh that slipped from your throat was quiet, intentional. A sound that felt as if it had been considered before being released. Your eyes narrowed, the corners creasing, fine, barely-there lines appearing for the briefest moment before smoothing out again.

Frankie ordered first. Black coffee, no sugar, no nonsense. Strong, thick, almost aggressive in its weight. Glazed doughnuts. You followed. A latte—also strong, also heavy, but softened with milk. Chocolate donuts because why not. Bill, all easy smiles and practiced efficiency, rang it up, then paused, lifting an eyebrow:

“So, skydiving?” He asked.

Which led to five minutes of you explaining the list thing, skirting around the details, giving just enough to satisfy curiosity but not enough to invite further questions. Bill nodded along, impressed. Wished you both luck. And just before you stepped away, he turned to Frankie.

“How’s the coffee?”

Frankie’s response was a single nod. "It's really good." He said, his cap shadowing his eyes as he reached for the door. That was that.

Ten minutes later, the car smelled like coffee and sugar.

Neither of you had said much, both too preoccupied with the food in your hands, the heat of the coffee on your tongues.

Shit. It was good. Really good.

Through the speakers, I Wanna Be Your Dog by The Stooges pulsed low and scratchy. Frankie chewed, his jaw working as he shook his head slightly, almost to himself, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Then, still chewing, still looking straight ahead, he spoke. “He’s into you.”

You had your coffee raised halfway to your mouth. Paused. Lowered it.

“What?”

Frankie swallowed. “Bill.”

You frowned. “Bill?”

“Yes.”

“No, he’s not.” You shook your head, attention flicking back to your donut.

Frankie let out a small, almost amused breath. “Yeah. He is.”

He could feel your gaze on him like sunlight pressing against the side of his face. He didn’t look at you. Just smiled.

“No,” you said finally, certain. “I don’t think so. He’s just nice. A nice person.”

“A nice man who’s into you.”

“Mhm.” You made a small sound, noncommittal, tilting your head slightly. “I bet you'd like that.”

That made him laugh. He glanced at you, brief, testing. You were still looking at him and for some reason, it made his chest feel too open, like he’d turned himself inside out without meaning to.

“How’s that?”

“Well.” You stretched the word out, dragging it a little. “If that were true, it’d work out pretty well for you. Maybe I’d get a real boyfriend and finally leave you alone.”

“You think so?”

“Yes,” you said, voice barely softer than usual, but just enough that he caught it. Then silence. A silence he didn’t want to break. A silence he wanted to hand over to you, let you decide what to do with it.

And then you did.

“I don’t need a boyfriend.” You shrugged, the movement easy, thoughtless. “I already have a fake one, anyway. That counts, doesn’t it?”

“Does it?” he asked, watching the road, fingers flexing against the steering wheel.

“Yeah. I mean, you’re here. And you’re good at faking it.” You exhaled, the sound barely there. “Lately, you don’t even need a witness.”

Something about the way you said it landed differently. Not playful, not teasing, just something you were letting into the air, unclaimed. Frankie’s hands tightened, his knuckles briefly going white. Last night sat there between you. He wondered if you were finally going to say something about it.

But you didn’t.

“You take me places,” you continued, as if you hadn’t just given him a reason to stop breathing. “You help me with my list. You even fed my cat.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. He shook his head, glanced at you again, then back at the road.

“I think you’re describing a servant.” His lips twitched. “I am your servant.”

You clicked your tongue. “Don’t say that.”

“Don’t worry. I like helping you. Feels good to be useful for a change.”

"Francisco, enough. Don’t say that."

He laughed, the sound rolling through his chest like a wave, rising and settling. “It’s okay.”

“Right. Well, let me help you with something too.”

Frankie huffed, shaking his head slightly. “You’re already helping me. You’re my girlfriend, the light of my eyes, my heart—at least in front of my family, remember?”

You laughed, filling the tight space of the car like sunlight through a crack. Frankie caught the slight nod of your head in his peripheral vision.

“Oh, right,” you said. “But I mean it. If there’s anything you need, just ask.”

He glanced at you, longer than he should have, taking in the shape of you in his passenger seat, the way your fingers curled around your coffee cup.

“You’re doing good. Don’t worry.”

You didn’t respond, just smiled to yourself, eyes dropping to the cup in your hands.

A few seconds passed, the kind that stretched out too long, where the air seemed to change in density, pressing down just a little. The music played, filling the space, but it wasn’t enough to stop the creeping thoughts. Frankie exhaled, thumb tapping against the steering wheel, a small, restless movement.

Why weren’t you saying anything about last night? Had you really forgotten?

Without thinking, he reached down and grabbed his phone, holding it out toward you.

“Here,” he said. “Put on some music.”

You took it without hesitation, eyebrows lifting, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across your face.

“Wow. You’re actually handing over control of the music? Must be my lucky day.”

Frankie laughed, his mind drifting somewhere else entirely.

The drive from Austin to San Antonio passed in pieces—fragments of conversation, long stretches of silence thick with things unsaid. By the time you pulled up at the airfield, the sun was high, casting sharp-edged shadows across the tarmac. The place felt wide open, almost empty, the metal hangars spaced out along the runway, a handful of small planes parked off to the side. A flag snapped in the wind, the Texas air heavy with heat and the distant churn of engines and propellers, voices carrying from the other jumpers and staff.

Eric, the instructor, was tall, mid-forties, with a loose, easy smile and a handshake that felt like a formality rather than a necessity. His jumpsuit was blue, sleeves patched with embroidered logos, sunglasses catching the glare off the pavement.

He and Frankie hugged, the kind of greeting that held years of familiarity. Then, casually, Frankie introduced you—his girlfriend. They fell into conversation, catching up on life, exchanging news. Their voices blurred together as your eyes drifted over the space, your stomach twisting with something you didn’t want to name. Then, suddenly, the thought landed fully in your mind: you were about to throw yourself out of a fucking plane.

But before you could sink too deep into that, Eric clapped his hands.

“Alright, first things first—we have to deal with the boring part,” he said, amused, leading you inside a small office. The walls were cluttered with framed certificates and pictures of past jumpers, frozen mid-air, grinning.

He slid a stack of papers across the desk—liability waivers, legal forms outlining all the things that could go wrong.

“Basically, this says that if you die, you can’t sue us,” he said, grinning. “But don’t worry, that won’t happen.”

“Wow,” you said. “So reassuring.”

Eric laughed, and just as you were about to reach for the pen, you felt it—Frankie’s hand, warm against your back, moving in a slow, careful rhythm. Your breath caught slightly before you exhaled.

Once the forms were signed, Eric led you both to a training area where the other participants were already gathered. He walked through the basics: how to hold your body in freefall, how to bend your legs for landing, why it was important to keep your head up and, above all, not to grab at anything once you were in the air.

“It’s kind of like swimming in a vacuum,” he said, tightening the straps on the harness. “The trick is to let go and trust the equipment.”

He checked each buckle with precision, giving them a final tug before patting you both on the shoulder. "Ready?"

You turned to Frankie. He was already looking at you. His black jumpsuit fit snugly, his hair a mess from the cap he’d been wearing earlier, from his hands running through it. Without thinking, you moved closer, your body tilting toward him. His hand found its place on your back again, tracing up until it rested on your shoulder.

"It’s going to be fine," he said, low and close to your ear. "Eric’s a pro. And I’ll be right there, watching you from above when you jump."

"I’m really scared," you admitted, a nervous smile forming before you could stop it.

Frankie pulled you in, his arms warm around you. You let your forehead rest against his chest. Beneath all the noise—voices, wind, the distant hum of engines—you could hear his heartbeat.

After a moment, you leaned back just enough to look up at him, something tight forming in your throat.

"You’ve done this before?"

"No." His lips twitched, his eyes fixed on you.

"And you’re not scared?" You glanced toward Eric, who was deep in conversation with another instructor a few feet away. "I know you’re used to flying, but this is different, right?"

"In some ways, yeah."

You exhaled, shaking your head. "I mean, you’ve seen worse. You’ve probably been through things in CAG that make this feel ridiculous."

Frankie’s grip on your shoulder tightened just slightly. "It’s not ridiculous. It’s new. And to be honest with you, I think it’s going to feel good to fall through the air without being the one responsible for keeping myself alive." He let out a small laugh.

You opened your mouth to answer, but Eric waved you both over.

The group started moving toward the runway. The plane was waiting, red and white, its side door already open. The engine hummed like it knew what was coming. The wind had picked up, kicking dust into the air, lifting the edges of shirts and loose strands of hair.

Frankie walked beside you, hands curled into easy fists, his expression unreadable. Neither of you said anything. You didn’t have to.

"Wait, hey—look at me." Frankie’s voice pulled you back just as you were about to head up the steps.

You turned to find him holding up his phone, his grin bright.

"Come on, smile." The camera clicked as you obeyed, your expression probably a mix of excitement and sheer panic.

You gestured to your jumpsuit—a black one-piece with straps pulled tight across your torso, the sleeves a little too long. "I look like an astronaut from a budget sci-fi movie."

Frankie just laughed.

The roar of the plane’s engine filled the air as you climbed the metal steps.

Inside, space was tight—just two rows of seats on the floor, the pilot focused on the controls up front. Eric moved efficiently through the cabin, checking harnesses, giving instructions. The side door stayed open, letting in gusts of wind, fragments of conversation from the ground below.

Frankie sat beside you, straps secured across his chest. His gaze was distant, locked on something you couldn’t see.

Your heart was racing, and not just from adrenaline. It was the certainty of what was about to happen, the realization that there was no backing out now. No chance to claim dizziness, to blame it on a delayed hangover—

No.

The plane lifted off, the ground dropping away fast. The streets and houses of San Antonio shrank to toy-sized versions of themselves, colors and grids blending together. The river cut through the city like a streak of silver, roads and fields stretching out until everything looked impossibly small, distant, unreal.

Eric had gone over the plan earlier. A 25-minute flight to reach the jump altitude—9,000 feet. Then, 35 seconds of free fall, plummeting at 130 miles per hour. After that, six to eight minutes drifting under the parachute before landing. They would take pictures. Record a video. But all you could think was: please don’t throw up.

Your eyes stayed on the view, your pulse high and erratic. Your breathing turned uneven, and at some point—without noticing—you started bouncing your knee, shifting your legs. Then, warmth. A hand on yours, grounding, steady. Frankie.

His fingers wove through yours, a quiet, easy motion, and your heart stuttered. His thumb moved over your skin, light, absentminded. You tried to focus on breathing. In, out. In, out.

"Here you go," Logan, the other instructor, cut in, handing you a pair of goggles. The moment shattered. Whatever had been happening between you—if anything had been happening at all—was interrupted.

Minutes blurred together. Eric tugged at your harness one last time, double-checking every buckle, every strap. His voice was loud but distant, muffled beneath the rush of blood in your ears.

"Ready?"

You weren’t. You nodded anyway.

The moment arrived too fast. The door slid open, and the wind howled through the cabin, sharp and cutting, like it wanted to rip you straight out of the plane. Eric led you to the edge.

Your feet met nothing. The space between you and the ground stretched forever. You tried to turn, to catch one last glimpse of Frankie, but the angle made it impossible. If you called his name, you weren’t sure he’d hear you. But he was there.

The wind tore at your face. The city below was impossibly small, the sky endless in every direction. Your lungs clenched.

Eric counted down.

"Three... two... one."

And then—you fell.

Or maybe, the world opened up and swallowed you whole, a deafening rush in every direction. Everything you thought you knew about gravity unraveled in an instant—you weren’t falling, you weren’t floating. You just were. Suspended in nothing, weightless and untethered.

The wind lashed against your body, hot and unrelenting, turning the descent into a collision with speed itself. And for a second, there was no space in your mind for anything else. No fear, no doubt. Just motion.

The world spun, stretched endlessly around you, and adrenaline burst inside your chest, wild and consuming, like a star collapsing and expanding all at once.

And then you screamed.

Not from fear. From something bigger than that. Something closer to exhilaration, to release.

The wind roared in your ears, thick against your skin, the force of it making the air feel solid. But none of it mattered.

Because you were falling. Hell, you were falling. And somehow, impossibly, it felt so fucking right. It was the best thing you had ever felt.

It took a moment to understand it, to really let it sink in. But when it did—when it fully hit you—your body stopped resisting. Something inside you loosened, unraveled.

And you laughed.

The sound barely existed before the wind stole it away, torn from your throat as if the sky itself wanted to keep it. Your heart pounded hard, so hard you could feel it everywhere—in your fingertips, in your toes, in every cell of your body—as the ground rushed closer and the sky stretched infinite behind you.

Eric waved you over, checking if you were okay. You shot him a thumbs-up, your grin so wide it almost hurt.

To your right, another instructor coasted effortlessly through the air, a helmet-mounted camera fixed on him. He waved his hands dramatically, motioning for you to do something.

Without thinking, you threw your arms out, wiggled your fingers, feeling both ridiculous and euphoric. The instructor mimed the click of a camera, then gave you an approving thumbs-up before drifting back, adjusting his position with an ease that made the whole thing look effortless.

You had no idea how long you’d been falling—fifteen seconds? Twenty? It could have been hours. It could have been nothing at all.

But here, in the open sky, with the world stretched out in every direction, with your body weightless in a way you’d never known before—one thing was certain.

You didn’t want it to end.

But it did.

Minutes later, you touched down in a vast stretch of green, landing just the way they’d told you to. Your stomach was fluttering, your pulse hammering, your entire body alive with an energy you had never felt before. The ground felt too solid, too still beneath you.

Eric unhooked the harness, stepping back as you stayed where you were, hands pressing into the earth like you needed proof that you were actually here, back on the ground. He grinned, holding up both thumbs.

“So, how are you feeling?”

Your breath came out in a laugh, wide and uncontained. “I didn’t want it to end.”

He chuckled, reaching out a hand to pull you up. Your legs were unsteady, not from weakness but from whatever was still coursing through you, whatever part of you hadn’t quite landed yet.

You tilted your head back, scanning the sky, searching. And there—far above—you caught them. Two dark figures cutting through the blue. Frankie and Logan, still falling, still weightless.

Eric nudged you, gesturing for you to move toward the pavement. You followed him, your steps uneven, gaze flicking between the sky and the field, as if you could still feel yourself in both places at once.

When Frankie landed, you felt the pull before you even decided to move. You waited. Ten seconds maybe. And then he got up, a smile on his face as he started talking to Logan, smiling, his body still humming with the same high that was thrumming through yours. But his eyes kept finding you, like a signal, a call.

You didn’t think. You just ran.

Your legs were shaky, the harness still tight around your chest, but none of it mattered. Maybe it was reckless, maybe you were supposed to wait, but you didn’t.

Frankie saw you coming. His arms opened instinctively, and then you crashed into him, his body warm, solid, the adrenaline between you mixing into something electric.

He lifted you, feet leaving the ground again, arms locked around his neck, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t know if it was the fall or if it was this—him.

"You did it, baby," he murmured, voice low, still breathless. His grin was wide, shining. He pulled back just enough to see your face, his eyes flickering downward for a second—just a second—before meeting yours again. "I knew you could."

"That was insane," you breathed. "I loved it."

"Me too."

"What did you think? Everything looked so different from up there, so small. And the sky—"

His hands were still on your waist, grounding you in a way the earth couldn’t.

"It felt fucking good," he said, laughing, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it himself. "Wanna do it again?"

You smiled, your hand trailing down his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath beneath your fingers.

"Thank you for doing this with me."

His eyes stayed on yours, locked. But then—

"Hey, lovebirds!" Eric’s voice cut through the air.

You blinked, exhaling a laugh as you stepped back. Frankie’s hands lingered a second longer before he let you go.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Taglis: @paleidiot @gothcsz @everyth1ngfan @katw474 @mellymbee @pedritosgirl2000 @tsunamistorm123 @jokesonthem @sunnytuliptime @greenwitchfromthewoods @ashleyfilm @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti @daybleedsintonightfa11 @mys2425 @pigeonmama @speaktothehandpeasants @pez3639 @stylesispunk @imaginecrushes @isla-finke-blog @smiithys @jokesonthem @brittmb115 @sukivenue @awkwardmebaby @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @suzysface @picketniffler @gaypoetsblog @merz-8 @doblasftcisco @ultra-nina-bella @satanxklaus @readingiskeepingmegoing @copperhalfcent @ashhlsstuff @sunfairyy @icanbringyouinhot @hi--have-a-nice-day @sesdeuxyeux

(Please let me know if your tag isn't working!!)

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sevgilimsatoru · 2 months ago

Text

Error: 410 (Self Aware!AU Caleb Edition) Part 10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 A/N

Summary: A self aware!AU with Caleb and NonMC! reader.

Tags: Caleb x reader, Caleb x NonMC! reader, Caleb x fem!reader, fluff, angst, Stressedout!reader. Hypersexual!reader

Word count: 1k

Inspired by: @ittybittyfanblog A/N: I'm not sure if y'all will like this chapter. Tell me your thoughts after reading this chapter, please.

"Cold sheets; Oh, where's my love? I am searching high; I'm searching low in the night"

You just sat there in shock for a minute trying to process everything.

He was gone.

He was…

You could never see him again, hear his voice, his laughter... You knew you had agreed to let him figure it out; you had agreed to wait, but you just wanted to see his face for the last time.

You shook your head, looking at the screen of your phone. You went to download the game, but you couldn’t. ‘Application not compatible with the device.’ You went to Chrome trying to search for any APK you could find of this game. Who cares if you got a virus on your phone?

It’ll be worth it if you could just see him for the last time. But nothing worked. Some sort of error always came up. There is always something standing in your way.

You went through your gallery—all the screenshots you had taken of him. Nothing was there—nothing at all. As if every piece of evidence of him—his sentience—vanished with him. You opened almost every single app on your phone in hopes of finding something… anything.

That was when you stumbled on a particular note in your notes app.

“For my sunshine.”

You could almost hear him call you that nickname, tears filling up your eyes as you clicked on the note, watching it open. It contained a link; when you clicked on it, it opened in your browser in a page, a website that was designed like the words were written in a diary.

Hey, sunshine. I’m not sure when you will see this. I suppose you won't, not until I have your attention, but I’m not complaining. You’ve been very busy lately with work, so I thought I could leave these words as gifts. Maybe you’ll stumble upon them and feel a little less stressed in your college classes. I’m not writing this because I can’t say the things that I write to your face. I can, and I will. I’ll say them hundreds, thousands of times if you want me to.

I’ll tell you my answers before you can ask: yes, I still love you, no matter what you look or sound like, and I always will. I keep thinking about you when you are away. The work as a colonel is tiring, but I can handle it if it means that I get to come home, see your smile, and talk to you for hours on end—it’s the best part of my day.

I know you tell me to not be so strong all the time; I can’t help myself if I want to protect you… I always knew what it felt like to love someone with your whole heart, but you showed me how it felt to be loved back the same way.

You know I believe....

ʎɐp ǝuo ʇɐɥʇ…. That That That That That That That That That error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error error

ERROR 410

The requested resource

is no longer available on this server and there is no forwarding address. Please remove all references to this resource.

Additionally, a 410 Gone error was encountered while trying to use an ErrorDocument to handle the request.

The page you are looking for does not exist.

What the hell? There was so much more you still had to read. Two pages… you still had two pages left to read. You had just blinked, and the page was gone. If you had just paid a little bit of attention and seen this before. Read what he had to say… but now he was gone.

When will you be able to see him again? How long was it going to take…? You wish you could undo your words. Make him come back.

Come back, Caleb.

Tag list: @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @aneertawrites @etsuniiru @demon-master-zero @angstylittleb1tch @mcdepressed290 @ittybittyfanblog @winwinwrites @alifyairl @huhleighna @calebsbeanpeeler @bookworrm1999 @mentaltrouble2201 @noxus123 @babyx91 @multisstuff @beomluvrr @sunnylittleapple @lunia-likes-pomegranet @imhere2dosomething @lostpsycho13 @april-likes-smut @calebsbabyapple @mephisto-with-a-knife

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animasola86 · 2 months ago

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LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH11

Mommy and Daddy have made up, and now you're in the middle of a very steamy threesome.

soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader

WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. NSFW! Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Dom/sub undertones. Pet names. Shared shower. Mutual washing. Mutual masturbation. Vaginal fingering. Threesome. Unprotected, rough vaginal sex. Voyeurism/cuckqueaning? Cunnilingus. Overstimulation. (More notes under the cut!)

WORDS: 5k 🔷️ READ ON AO3 🔷️ 1–2–3–4–5–6 7–8–9–10–11–12

A/N: RECAP: Reader (we call her Pumpkin) is in her 20s, has hair and female genitalia, suffers from depression and anxiety, and has agreed to become the little girl/submissive to a couple she's supposed to call Mommy and Daddy, who are in their early/late thirties. READ THE WARNINGS!!! The Daddy/Mommy AU continues, and now they've joined ranks. 🔴 Do you like moodboards? Here's some Pinterest boards of Mommy, Daddy and Pumpkin.

Chapter 10 🔷️ Chapter 11 🔷️ Chapter 12

While the shower really was unusually large (two tiled walls, one glass wall, floor-to-high ceiling, one giant door), you still felt crowded between the tall frames of Mommy and Daddy. It had been a blur how they'd stripped out of their clothes, then helped you out of yours (which seemed to be the easiest part as you were neither wearing panties nor a bra, just your sundress), and now you stood between a wall of muscles and two very impressive breasts, their warmth radiating off of them as the water cascaded down on you from the waterfall shower above your head.

But despite the awkwardness of being naked (which you'd experienced with both Mommy and Daddy before, just not together), you felt safe. They were so attentive, Mommy taking care of your hair while Daddy rubbed body wash over your skin, and they still stole the occasional kiss over your head or past your shoulder as well. It felt right, somehow, on a strange level, like loving parents should behave in front of their children (to some extent), but also like a couple welcoming you in their midst.

At first, it had been weird seeing Daddy kiss Mommy like that, and you couldn't deny the little tinge of jealousy, but he'd been right. You had to get used to this. You were part of a love triangle now, so to speak. And if you wanted to spend time with them, you had to adjust to them sharing affections as well. It was what you wanted, you didn't want to choose, no longer feel as if you'd ignore one of them by doing stuff with the other.

And it wasn't as if they ignored you then either, on the contrary, every kiss they shared, they gave back to you double. You felt Mommy's soft lips on yours and her hand on your chin, guiding you, before she moved back to tend to your hair, and then it was Daddy's turn, his hand on your face and his tongue in your mouth. Your head was positively spinning after only a few minutes of steam and warm water, kisses and cuddles, gentle touches and demanding grabs.

You stood there and let it happen, as was your role, apparently. Though the longer you passively shared the space with these handsome people, the more you wanted to touch them too. Feel Daddy's muscles twitch under his tight skin, trace the veins running up and down his arms and legs and abdomen, feel the weight of Mommy's breasts in your small hands, poke her firm nipples (and taste them?), but whenever you dared a look lower, you felt the heat crashing into your head.

The idea of Daddy's cock was still a little scary to you, even after feeling him and having him in your hands before. He seemed larger today, or maybe you felt smaller, more intimidated, as you stole glances at him while he rubbed his big hands over your back and stomach. Mommy wasn't as shy about it. Once she was done with your hair (having put it up into a tight bun full of conditioner), she grabbed the soap and started washing Daddy's chest, quickly moving lower, her hands grabbing his cock as if it was the most natural thing to her (which it probably was).

He let out a little groan, grabbing her chin and pulling her in for another kiss, their rough breaths mingling. “Let her do it,” you then heard him rumble against her lips. She exhaled loudly and nibbled on his bottom lip, giving him a little stare, before leaning back, letting go of him and turning to you.

You blushed in anticipation. “You've touched Daddy before, haven't you?” she whispered over the rush of water cascading down on all three bodies. You blinked, averting your eyes (trying to find a spot that was okay to stare at), then nodded. “Don't be shy then, just soap him up. It's alright, cariño.”

You swallowed, turning your gaze to meet Daddy's. He smiled softly, just standing there, tall and handsome and still slightly intimidating. It was Mommy who guided your hands to his groin, her fingers making yours curl around his shaft. He was warm and already harder than you expected. Slowly she moved your fist (or what fit around him) over his length, up and down, from the base to the tip, shifting his tight skin over his hardened core.

Eventually she let go to gather more soap between her hands, then focused back on his balls, while you kept stroking his cock, your tongue poking out between your lips as you concentrated. His hand came forth, gently curling around your wrist, moving your hand a little faster and more in a twisting motion. You looked up at him, noticing too late that your tongue was still out. He smirked, his free hand grabbing your chin as he leaned down to close his lips around the tip of your tongue, giving it a quick suck. You gasped into his mouth.

“You're so cute, pumpkin,” he breathed against your lips. “Never change.”

You smiled shyly when he straightened up again, the hand on your chin moving to cup your face and caressing it gently. You continued the up and down motions of your hand, the twisting turns, the curling of your fist around his tip, until he carefully pried your hand off his cock.

Mommy had moved on to soap up his broad back, standing behind him now. You watched with growing warmth in your gut as she rubbed her hands around his torso, her long fingers scraping over his pecs. He turned his head and looked at her, then let out a sudden laugh when she retrieved her hands and slapped his butt.

He turned around and leaned down to catch a kiss from her, his arm curling around her body, hand firmly on her thigh. “You naughty girl,” he muttered against her, and she snickered into the kiss. You noticed how his hand slipped lower, right between her legs, over Mommy's smooth mound. She cooed into him, arching her back, a little sigh escaping her lips.

“Pumpkin,” he addressed you then, his voice hoarse and rough enough to send a shiver down your spine, and you took a step closer. His free hand was extended towards you while he was still focused on shoving his tongue into Mommy's mouth. He grabbed you when you were in reach and brought your hand to where his own was rubbing up and down between Mommy's legs. “Show Mommy a good time, hm?” he hummed, holding your fingers to push them further.

He kept kissing her, holding her in place, while his hand hovered over yours. You felt a bit strange to touch another woman, even though the same woman had touched you in the same way at least twice before. You felt around a little blindly, your fingers slipping between her labia, right into her slick. A moan escaped her, quickly swallowed by Daddy's mouth. The angle was different from how you'd touch yourself, so you fumbled for a moment to find her clit, but when you did, she bucked her hips into your hand, sighing past Daddy's attempts to silence her.

You felt her nub throbbing against your fingertips as you drew slow circles around it, biting your lip as you watched Mommy and Daddy kiss deeply, Mommy melting more and more into Daddy's hold. They looked so beautiful like this, the handsome man and the gorgeous woman who should both be portrayed in one of those fancy magazines, but instead they stood with you in a shower, trying their best to make you feel included.

Daddy's hand eventually brushed against your leg, pulling you closer until he could reach around your rear where he rubbed it up and down and around your soft ass cheeks, fingertips teasing between them. You kept rubbing Mommy's clit, occasionally caressing lower to tease at her entrance, wet little squelching sounds echoing past the constant stream of water.

It was a wild tangle of hands, three bodies pressed together, two of them still engaged in a passionate kiss, and you wondered where Mommy's hands were – until you felt one of them bumping past your wrist, blindly fumbling to find your own crotch.

You angled yourself to make her reach it better, and unlike you, she immediately went for your core, dipping two of her fingers into your clenching cunt. You hadn't even noticed how wet you were until she slipped in with ease, pumping her digits in and out, making you stumble against Daddy, who held you closer, his big hand resting on your ass.

When your first moan ripped from your throat, he leaned away from Mommy's face and bent down a little to reach yours, and as soon as you met his heated gaze, you grabbed his arm in support and tilted your chin up, hungry to taste him too. He indulged you, kissing you just as deeply as he had kissed Mommy, and you could swear you tasted her on his tongue.

Your head was spinning, empty and full of cotton at the same time, breathless gasps and mewls slipping past your swollen lips. Mommy's fingers were relentless, pushing harder, faster, curling at just the right angle, until your legs were shaking and you had to fully lean against Daddy. You tried to keep up with her rhythm and mirror it on her own cunt, focusing on her clit, feeling her tremble as well, and somehow, with Daddy's strong hold on both of you, you remained standing when your orgasm washed over you like a gentle wave, hers following shortly after.

While your noises were muffled, hers echoed through the tiled room, a drawn-out moan, ending in a soft “Oh mi amor...”. She pulled her fingers from your still pulsing pussy and grabbed your face, prying you away from Daddy before continuing the kiss chain with even more fervor. He still held you and her, watching you (you could see him out of the corner of your eye, how he licked his lips and smirked, clearly enjoying the sight).

You leaned into Mommy's kiss, trying to mirror the rubbing and sliding of her lips and tongue as best as you could with how lightheaded you still felt. Eventually your eyelids fluttered closed and all you did was melt into the touches and ministrations, feeling as if you were floating, surrounded by steam and warm bodies, far away from any problems you might have ever had. Nothing mattered anymore.

You didn't even notice the loss of Daddy's hand until Mommy leaned back a little, breathing harder against your lips. “Don't you dare,” she whispered, and you opened your eyes in confusion. You realized Daddy had his big hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it lazily, while she pointed her finger at his chest, smirking darkly. “If you shoot that into the wind, I won't let you rest until you give me another load!”

“Come and get it then,” he teased, his eyebrow twitching.

You noticed how Mommy bit her lip, her hands still curled around your face. “Hmm,” she hummed, then looked at you. “Cariño, Mommy needs Daddy's cock now, is that okay with you?”

You blinked, not quite understanding what she was implying. Well, you did, she wasn't very subtle about it, but you didn't know why she was asking you for your consent.

“Don't be alarmed, little one,” she continued. “We like it a little rougher than your average couple, but don't worry, we will not be like that with you. You can stay and watch if you want... I'm just warning you.”

Now you were really alarmed, despite her words, because of her words. Daddy's hand came forth and curled around your waist. “She's staying,” he said, looking at Mommy. “I want you to stay, pumpkin, this is part of our agreement. You are a part of us now,” he added, his eyes moving to meet yours. Your heart beat faster.

Without really knowing what was going to happen, you nodded. Mommy gave you another peck before letting go of you, her fingertips trailing up Daddy's chest as she walked around him towards the wall. He was still looking at you, his gaze so dark and intense, a somewhat sinister smile curling his lips. He reached out to you, caressing your nape, pulling you against him.

“It'll be fine, baby girl, stay close to me, okay?” he whispered, and you nodded again, mesmerized by the strange energy radiating off of them. He gave you a wink, then turned to face Mommy.

She was leaning against the wall, backside to you and Daddy. He stepped closer, his hand shooting out to grab her hair. She cried out softly when he pulled her head back, his other hand curling around her throat, squeezing lightly. They looked at each other, Mommy blinking through her lashes, her face tilted up.

“I love you, remember that, yeah?” he muttered quietly, leaning down to kiss the tip of her nose.

“I know, papito, I love you too,” she whispered, reaching behind her to caress his side. “Now fuck me already, I need it,” she added with a smirk.

He let go of her throat and pressed her roughly against the wall, his free hand shooting forward to smack her ass, the sound so loud it made both her and you flinch and cry out. “Impatient little slut, aren't you?” Daddy rasped, the degrading name making you frown. Mommy didn't seem to care as she pressed herself against the wall, hands on either side of her shoulders, head turned, cheek against the tiles.

He stepped behind her, rubbing his pelvis into her rear, his cock sliding between her cheeks. His hands moved down her sides before he gripped her hips and pulled them back a little, making her arch into him. You felt a little weird watching them being so intimate, feeling like a passive bystander, out of place, cold under the warm water. Suddenly Daddy turned his head to you, his eyes even more intense, causing you to stare at him in confusion.

“You wanna help me out, pumpkin?” The shift in his tone confused you even more. He sounded so caring again, while barely a minute ago he'd called Mommy a slut. “Come closer.”

But you followed his words, eager in a way you couldn't describe, your stomach tense in anticipation. Swallowing, you looked up at him, blinking away the water running down your head.

“I wish I could do this to you too,” he whispered, tilting his head to you. “Soon I can, and soon I will, but for now you can only watch, okay?” Heat crashed through your body, but you nodded. “Grab my cock, baby,” he then said, his tone a little rougher again, making you spring into action immediately. Though you fumbled a bit to reach it, you managed to close a hand around his shaft, hot and harder than you'd felt before, so tense it was bobbing against his lower stomach. “And now bring it to Mommy's cunt,” he continued, watching you closely, his hands digging into her hips as he pulled her a bit closer.

You nodded, your tongue back between your lips as you tried to line up his cock with Mommy's entrance. It was a simple task, and it made you feel included, no matter how weird it might have been. It didn't feel weird as you did it, it was just an order and you felt the need to follow it.

You felt the warmth radiating off Mommy's core, you couldn't quite see what you were doing, but eventually you seemed to have done it – when Daddy suddenly rolled his hips against her rear, causing her to issue a low grunt as he slipped into her, sinking his entire length into Mommy's depths in one swift thrust.

You stepped back, letting go of him, but his arm shot out and wrapped around your shoulders, holding you against him. “Stay,” he breathed, bending down a little to press his lips to the top of your head. “Watch me rail your Mommy.”

You should have felt shame and maybe even terror or disgust or anything negative for doing what you did, but you were frozen to the spot, pressed to his side, mesmerized by the little tremors crashing through his body as he started moving against Mommy, slow nudges at first, before he pulled back more only to thrust into her again with force. She moaned and groaned with every slam of his hips, flat against the wall, arching her back into his motions.

And you stood beside him, your hands reaching out to snake around his waist, his muscles shifting under your palms, his body working as he pounded his cock into her cunt. It was obscene, it was fascinating. His arm stayed around your shoulder, hand tight around your forearm, his other hand moving up Mommy's back to curl around her hair again, fisting it tightly.

His thrusts became faster, harder, pelvis smacking against her cushioned rear, wet skin slapping against wet skin, her moans turning into whines, groans into grunts, sounds of effort echoing through the room; noises that did something to you, that sank into your skin, cut into your nerves, awakened sensations you never knew could be this intense.

You watched Daddy's face. Hard, concentrated, stoic even, his eyes focused on where his cock vanished into Mommy, lips a thin line, his nostrils flaring as more and more labored breaths left him. You felt the need to comfort him, so you started rubbing your palm over his shifting abdomen. He looked down, a sudden tilt to his head, looking like a predator who noticed the movement of his prey. You froze, lips parting, your stomach tensing, your own cunt clenching harder around nothing.

He continued the rapid snaps of his hips, fast and hard slams, making Mommy cry out as he pummeled her into the wall, but his focus shifted to you, his hand sliding down your side, pressing you closer against him, your breasts squished when he snaked his hand down your back and between your ass cheeks. His long fingers brushed against your labia, and you gasped softly when he slipped one digit between them, dipping into your slick. You braced against him, moving up on your toes to give him better access, your arms tight around his waist.

You had no idea how he did it, but he kept the steady rhythm of his thrusts, sinking his cock into Mommy's fluttering cunt with unrelenting force, while also pushing his finger into your own pussy, just one finger, but it felt as if he was railing you instead. You buried your face under his arm, feeling the tight skin and hard muscles, inhaling his soft scent, soapy and masculine. His finger moved in and out, slowly matching the same beat of his hips that kept rubbing against your stomach, and you moaned into him as Mommy moaned into the wall, her body shuddering against his.

It was a whirlwind of sensations, watching them fuck, being fingered, feeling every twitch of his body, hearing those lewd noises, from their labored breaths to the loud squelching, and when Mommy came, you felt something warm spraying against your leg. She cried out loudly, her whole body spasming. Daddy's hand in her hair moved around her throat and pulled her back against him, bringing her closer to you as well, and with one arm still around him, you snaked the other around Mommy's waist, holding her too, your hand brushing over her chest.

Her hands found yours, and she guided it to her breasts, making you grope one while she fondled the other, you even started rubbing your own against Daddy's hard muscles, as he kept pumping his hips against Mommy and his finger into you. He sounded more and more agitated, quiet groans slipping from his now parted lips. He tightened his hand around Mommy's throat, tilting her head back to press his lips to her forehead, and you saw her eyes rolling back, her mouth agape, breathless moans escaping her.

“Come on, Daddy,” she rasped barely audible. “Fill me up...”

“Beg for it,” he said hoarsely, baring his teeth.

“Please, please, give me your cum, Daddy,” Mommy cooed, her body shaking in his tight hold, every thrust making her boobs bounce against your and her hand. “Please fill me up, I need it so bad!”

He let go of her throat and slapped his hand over her cheek, making her cry out louder. You winced at the sudden impact, flinching away. “What a needy little slut, huh? You sure you deserve it?” He sounded so mean, and yet you couldn't help but gasp at the rough texture of his voice, the low hum shooting straight into your tensing core with how it vibrated through your body.

Mommy wailed, chanting a chorus of “Yes, yes, please!” before he slapped her again, then pushed her back against the wall, making you stumble as you had to let go of her breast.

His finger slipped from your cunt as he grabbed Mommy's hips with both hands, and you could barely hold onto him as he started to really hammer into her, faster and harder than before, desperate almost. He groaned and grunted, animalistic noises filling your ears that made your cunt flutter.

Mommy whined and mewled, her body convulsing, legs shaking badly beneath her. You felt her orgasm as if it was your own, a sudden shiver, a deep throbbing, your own body trembling against Daddy's. And suddenly he stilled, pushing Mommy against the wall as he leaned in to wrap his arms around her waist, folding over her, holding on as his hips stuttered, a low moan akin to something that sounded like a “Ah, my good girl” escaping him as he buried his face in her hair.

You still clung to his waist, now somewhat sandwiched between them, feeling both of their shudders, being lulled by his low praises and her soft gasps, and all you could do, as he pumped his seed into Mommy, was close your eyes and lean into the sensations, your own cunt weeping, clenching around nothing. Whatever had just happened, it had been the hottest thing you'd ever witnessed and experienced.

For a long moment nobody moved. Only the water kept cascading down their slick bodies. You felt weirdly disconnected, floating in the warmth settling around you, lightheaded, dizzy, content. You could have stayed like that forever, but somehow, when you blinked your eyes open again, you found yourself back under the full spray of the shower, with Mommy in front of you, her hands massaging your breasts, while Daddy stood behind you, his fingers gliding through your hair.

You looked at Mommy (her face flushed, one cheek redder than the other, but a warm smile on her full lips) before you turned your head and looked up at Daddy (his hair was tousled, red spots on his cheeks, a gentle twinkle in his dark eyes), wondering whether you'd just had a very vivid dream or not. He leaned down and kissed your cheek, rubbing his wet beard against your jaw.

“You okay, pumpkin?” he rasped, his voice low and hoarse.

You nodded, frowning a little in confusion. Mommy squeezed your breasts, pinching your nipples between her fingers. You flinched and looked back at her.

“I think we owe her another orgasm,” she whispered, looking past you at Daddy. “A real one...”

Before you could question what she meant by that, you felt Daddy's hands under your thighs, and suddenly you were being lifted, your back pressed into his chest, your legs spread wide as he held you up with your feet swinging about. You grabbed his forearms, a squeak escaping you as you squirmed against him. Mommy stepped between your wide open thighs, rubbing her hands along them.

“Calm down, mi amor, this is all for you,” she whispered, giving you a wink as she licked her lips. And then she buried her face in your crotch, her warm mouth pressed to your slit, her tongue dipping deep.

You cried out in surprise and confusion and hesitation, overcome with the biggest wave of shame yet, writhing in Daddy's arms. He cooed into your ear, shushing you. “It's alright, baby girl, let it happen.”

But you couldn't quite enjoy it as you felt Mommy's tongue lapping at your core, teasing into your hole before prodding against your clit. It felt wrong, the way Daddy held you open, how you couldn't escape, how she sucked and licked at your cunt as if... as if you were the dessert she had been waiting for for so long. Oh.

Another “Oh” escaped you as she teased her tongue deeper into you, your walls clenching at the unfamiliar intrusion. You gasped, twitching in Daddy's arms, Mommy's mouth so warm and intense against your sensitive skin. She kept licking and lapping, suckling and nibbling, grazing her teeth against your labia before she closed her lips around your clit and sucked hard. You thrashed your head into Daddy's shoulder and shrieked, your hips jerking against her face.

She kept going, her hands reaching up to support your rear, long fingers curling around your ass, digging into your soft flesh as she continued eating you out with vigor. You whined and wailed as pleasure built in your lower stomach, the tension almost painful. Daddy tried soothing you, his lips brushing against your temple, his low voice vibrating in your ear.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed. “You're doing great, baby, look at Mommy go. She loves eating that sweet cunt, doesn't she? Can't wait to taste it myself, you know?”

His words only added to the heat gathering in your core, your body already shuddering deeply, thighs twitching against his hands, hips stuttering against Mommy's mouth, as her tongue lapped at your wetness, teasing your clit, prodding at your cunt, tasting every inch of you. You dug your fingers into Daddy's arms, holding on for dear life, as the tension grew and grew, the heat burning you from the inside out, all your nerves tingling badly.

And then you came, with a low cry, tears falling from your lashes as you squeezed your eyes shut, your entire body convulsing uncontrollably. Pleasure was all around you, tinged with a bit of pain that glowed red behind your eyelids. Little sobs and whines slipped from your tight throat as you succumbed to the sensations. Mommy kept licking at your drenched slit, prolonging the bliss gripping at your soul.

You felt like floating again, but it was dark, and you could barely breathe. Your body wasn't your own anymore, it was theirs, all the touches and kisses and praises sank into you, vanishing into the void.

Your eyes fluttered open and you found yourself sitting on a counter, your feet dangling in the air, your torso wrapped in a soft towel, another towel turban holding your hair up. You were breathing deeply, your body tingling. Mommy stood in front of you, smiling warmly. Her hands reached out and cupped your face. You blinked in confusion.

“Hey, sweet girl,” she whispered, leaning in to brush her lips against yours. “Bit overwhelming, hm?” You didn't understand. “Don't worry. You'll get used to it. This is just the beginning,” she added with a soft chuckle, leaning in again to kiss you properly, deeper this time, her tongue pushing into your mouth. You were too far gone to wonder if her words were a threat or a promise.

“Give her some air,” you then heard Daddy's low voice behind Mommy. “Can't believe you made her faint...”

Mommy gave you another peck, then leaned away and turned her head to the tall man behind her. “That's a first for me too, you know? I had no idea our little girl was this sensitive,” she said softly, looking back at you, her thumbs rubbing over the corners of your mouth. “Aren't you the cutest little thing? We're so lucky, Noah.”

You felt a sudden wave of warmth flooding your cheeks, but the sight only made Mommy chuckle more, her lips back on yours. Another hand came forth, and you felt her moving away with a sigh, before Daddy slipped into your line of sight, your vision still blurry for some reason. He cradled your head in his large hands, resting his forehead against yours.

“You'll be fine, pumpkin,” he whispered, smiling at you. Your lips twitched a little. “Was a long day, wasn't it?”

You swallowed, unable to nod even though you wanted to. You felt boneless and too tired to do anything. Luckily, you didn't have to do anything. Daddy wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the counter, gently setting you on your feet, one hand still on your arm to hold you steady as he loosened the towels from around your torso and your hair. With your wet tresses falling over your shoulders, he scooped you up again, cradling you against his warm chest.

He was still naked, or again, you weren't sure. Didn't matter. You closed your eyes and let it happen. He carried you into another room, you were put down onto a soft bed (you assumed), before the mattress dipped around you, two more bodies slipping in beside you. Daddy pulled your back against his hard chest, your rear pressed to his groin, while Mommy squished her breasts against yours, as they sandwiched you yet again.

It was warm and comfortable, hands and arms tangled around you, soft breaths in your nape and against your forehead, gentle kisses and whispered words washing over you. You felt so sleepy, so heavy and so light at the same time. Exhaling loudly you drifted off into the void again, the better one this time.

“Good night, baby girl,” you heard both Mommy and Daddy coo into your ear before you slipped away fully.

Chapter 10 🔷️ Chapter 11 🔷️ Chapter 12

End notes: Head empty, just smut. That was the chapter. We'll go back to the plot in the next one, don't worry.

Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!

Up next: You wake up in bed with Mommy and Daddy, and things continue...

MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS

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elleaitch22 · 12 days ago

Text

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 11: Built Soft, Held Firm

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: School is finally out, so I have the freedom to write more! Is this too much of a slow burn for y'all? It should be picking up heat in the next couple chapters. Anywho, the last scene was written when I was very much not sober, so ignore errors pls&thx. As always, I hope you love it! xx Elle

Warnings: Trauma responses, trauma, reference to past abuse

Word Count: 3.7k words

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On Sunday, Azzi woke up to a text saying that Paige and Soleil were having brunch, and that she was welcome to come if she wanted.

She rode up to the penthouse and was greeted with a wet kiss on her cheek and sticky hands around her neck. “G’mowning, Azzi!”

“Good morning, Lei! Did you have nice dreams?” Azzi replied, toting her to the kitchen.

“Yes! Mommy gotted me a unicown and she had wainbow haiw and glittew!”

Azzi gasped and giggled as Soleil continued her dream. Then she reached the kitchen.

She paused, face heating. Paige was standing at the stove in a tank top that had ridden up a little, giving Azzi the perfect view of the band of her boxers and a sliver of skin. She wore sea foam green sweats, looking like a picture of comfort.

“Hey, Az. I hope you got good sleep last night.” Paige said, turning towards the pair.

Azzi’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t slept well, and she didn’t know how Paige was going to react when she told her. “Um, I couldn’t stay asleep, so not great. What about you?”

Paige nodded. “That’s okay, hopefully we can have time for a group nap. I woke up a few times last night too.”

“We take a nap in the fowt?!” Soleil exclaimed.

“That sounds like the best idea, Sunshine,” Paige smiled, “Is that okay with you?”

A shy smile and a nod, Paige was being so understanding. It made Azzi a little anxious, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but she tried to tell her brain that the blonde was safe and trustworthy. “I love a good fort nap.”

“Can you get a couple of glasses down while I finish cooking the eggs?” Paige asked over her shoulder.

Azzi put Soleil down and moved further into the room. She reached into the cabinet the same time Paige reached for the salt and pepper, holding back a gasp when their hands brushed.

She placed the glasses on the table and waited for instructions.

“Thank you, Azzi. Do you want to drink a glass of water before you have coffee or tea?” She could hear the suggestion and relaxed at the lack of command.

She did what was asked of her and waited, fidgeting with the hem of her pajama shorts.

I should’ve put on real clothes before I came over. Azzi thought to herself. Well, Paige is in comfy clothes and Soleil is in a Princess and the Frog nightgown, it’s probably fine.

Azzi didn’t notice her breathing start to come a bit quicker, but Paige did.

“What are you feeling right now?” Azzi didn’t answer. “Are you sad?” Head shook. “Nervous?” A hesitation, then head shook. “Anxious?” A nod. “Can you tell me why you’re anxious?”

Azzi tossed a look at Soleil, not wanting the little girl to hear her struggles. She was occupied with watching Miss Rachel on the purple iPad. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing, and that makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong. And I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop with you.”

“Oh,” Paige started. “Maybe we should table this until Soleil’s asleep.”

Brown eyes focused on the wood grain of the table.

“I’m not mad! I just think it might take time to talk, and I want to give you all of my attention instead of splitting between the two of you.” The blonde rushed to add.

The tension in Azzi’s shoulders melted a bit, disappearing when wavy brown hair and blue eyes popped into her face.

“Azzi,” she pouted. “I wanna sit with you.” Azzi opened her arms, and Soleil whined. “But I wanna sit with Mommy too.”

“Hmph” Azzi sighed, pensive. “What if we made a fort in the living room and ate there?” She questioned, turning to Paige.

Soleil let out a loud whoop. “That’s a good idea, Az. Lei, why don’t you get the blankets. I’ll bring the food, and you can move the couch cushions to the floor, Azzi.”

Before Azzi reached the living room, Soleil had already found three chunky blankets to use in their fort. She pushed the coffee table into Soleil’s art corner and shoved two ottomans out of the way. The couch cushions were thrown to the floor when Paige entered. Azzi couldn’t see her, but she felt blue eyes tracking her movements across the space.

Soon, their plates were on the coffee table, four stuffies were perched on the blankets, and pillows had joined the chaos. Paige walked up silently, rolling her sleeves up. Her face was attractively focused as she spent ten minutes constructing.

Azzi smiled, happy with how serious Paige seemed to be taking the task. “This is probably the most engineered and well-structured pillow fort I’ve ever seen.”

“My girl deserves the best,” Paige shrugged, grin wide across her face.

The three of them sat on the floor by the coffee table, Soleil deciding she didn’t want eggs in her fort. She went back and forth between the two women with every bite she took.

After she’s had enough the little one squeals and scrambles to the pillow paradise. “C’mon! Can you wead with me?”

The curly headed woman chugged the rest of her tea and crawled under the blanket, gasping at the constellation of fairy lights twinkling in blanket seams.

She turned to the blonde responsible. “You staying out there, or you coming in with us?”

Paige’s eyes darted between the beautiful pair in the fort and the cold, silver MacBook on the couch. Her arm shot out to grab her computer before she ducked into the cozy space.

“Wead this one fiwst,” Soleil held A Family Is a Family Is a Family, crawling into Azzi’s lap. “But we have to be quiet so Mommy can work.”

Azzi smiled, happy to read the book about different kinds of families. She opened this book and began reading in her slow, warm tone.

She gave Soleil chances to interject.

“I think I look like me, but I look like Mommy when she was little.”

And “I only have one mommy like her!”

Paige smiled at her comments, resting her back against the sofa.

When Azzi read the final line – And each family is the right kind of family – Paige smiled softly, part love for Soleil, part longing for Azzi. Soleil clapped and quickly placed another book in Azzi’s waiting hands.

Love Makes a Family was one of Soleil’s favorite books. Azzi’s too; it told children the only important thing in a family is love. It made her heart ache in desire.

Love is lending a helping hand. “Like when you and Mommy maked bweakfast!”

Love is making things better again. “Like when you hugged me after they sayed mean things about ouw family.”

Love is reading one more book. “Mommy always weads me mowe books!”

Love is chasing monsters. “Mommy chase the monstews befowe bed so I’m not scawed.”

Paige’s eyes flicked to Azzi’s several times. Neither of them spoke, but something passed between them. Something soft, sweet, and real.

After they finished the second book, Soleil crawled to her mom. “Now a movie. With snacks. And cuddles.”

Paige put her MacBook away and brought her daughter to her chest while Azzi crawled out of the fort.

“You two pick a movie, and I’ll get a couple snacks.” She threw over her shoulder.

Frozen II was just getting started when she came back with a tray of apple slices, peanut butter, celery, and yogurt covered pretzels.

“Azzi, come cuddle too,” Soleil whined, adorable pout on her face.

The girl smiled as her body became squished between Paige and Azzi’s. The blonde’s hand hesitantly reached over, landing softly on Azzi’s side. Her eyes met brown ones, silently asking is this okay? Azzi gave a small smile and nod, turning to one of her favorite movies.

The trio didn’t make it to the sister’s venturing into the forest before they’re all sleep. Safe and happy.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Azzi woke to a blank tv screen and a foot to the ribs. Her eyes trailed the leg to a precious face buried in her mother’s stomach.

Her gaze continued upward until it landed on the one holding the child.

Paige’s face could be harsh. Absolutely beautiful, but harsh. Her angular cheekbones and sharp jawline could be intimidating based on the lighting. And when she glared with her brows furrowed, she was downright terrifying. But when she’s asleep, the angles soften and she looks younger, more innocent. With her hair fanned out like a halo, Paige looked like the closest thing to an angel Azzi had ever seen.

Azzi gave herself five more seconds to trace the slope of her nose and the color of her lips before she got up to be productive.

She carried the snack tray and brunch dishes back into the kitchen, deciding to wash them by hand, give herself time to think.

She still didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing, what Paige expected of her. And that made her anxious. She didn’t know how Paige would react when Azzi eventually disappointed her.

It made her want to bolt. To leave the city.

Then

Soleil

The girl had latched onto Azzi quickly and deeply. And Azzi had done the same. In her three years of teaching, Azzi had never felt so attached to a child before. Obviously Soleil was a special case, but even before the agreement, Soleil had filled the void left by her family.

Her mind wandered more.

Her family. Maybe she could reach out to them again.

Tim and Katie were amazing and supportive; they would probably welcome her back with open arms. But they lived in Virginia. Would Azzi be able to give up her new family for her family of origin? Would they even want to know her after everything that she’d done?

A soft tap broke Azzi from her trance.

“You’ve been washing the same fork for the last thirty seconds. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Paige smiled.

Azzi felt her cheeks heat at the words, “Was just thinking about what you asked me earlier.”

The older woman nodded, reaching over to turn off the tap. “We should sit if we’re going to talk about this.”

Azzi dried her hands on her oversized t-shirt, following the blonde back to the living room. They dropped onto the couch, far enough to speak without waking Soleil, but close enough to hear when she stirred.

She nervously picked at a loose thread on her pajama shorts.

“I’m not upset, Azzi. You’re allowed to feel anxious. I just want to help you figure out how to feel safe.” Paige said gently.

Azzi pushed her shoulders back, calming herself. “There’s just too much. Too many options. Too many unknowns. I don’t know what you want me to do. I don’t know what’s gonna happen when I make you upset. It’s just too much.” She said quietly, staring at a speck on the floor. “It feels like you’re watching me, waiting for me to mess up. And I know you aren’t, I know you aren’t like that, but it really makes me anxious.”

Paige waited a few seconds, “That makes sense. I’m sorry I didn’t think of that.” She paused, shifted on the couch. “Do you think rules might help? So you know what you should be doing?”

Azzi looked up, head tilted to the side as she thought. Rules and expectations. She could follow those if she knew what they were. “I don’t know. What happens if I break a rule?”

“I don’t know, maybe we could talk about it. What your headspace was and why you broke the rule. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy, but we would just need to talk about it and if anything needed to change.”

The brunette nodded.

“If you don’t want to do rules, we can get you a therapist. It doesn’t have to be Kyrie, but having someone to talk to might help?” Paige offered.

Azzi shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been to therapy before and all I got from it was I’m hard to love. That I struggle in relationships because of my anxiety, PTSD, and fearful-avoidant attachment style.” She gulped. “And I know all therapists aren’t like that, but I don’t want to try to find a new one right now. I’d rather try the rules; I’m just a little nervous.”

“The rules won’t be to trap you, Azzi. It’s just so you have structure, rhythm to keep you feeling safe and secure.” She moved closer, placing her hand on the tanned knee. “I know we’re both…new to this, but the other shoe isn’t coming. Nothing’s going to drop.”

“I’m scared,” she breathed. “I know what all this means. I know I’ll have to let you in. But the last time I did that; he hurt me for years. And even if you don’t hurt me, I know I’ll disappoint you eventually. What if it’s not worth it?”

Paige cupped her cheek softly. “You’re worth it. Anything that you do, it’ll be worth it, I promise.” She swallowed. “Just – just let me take some of it. Let me take care of it. Just let me know what you’re feeling and let me carry it. You’re not alone anymore; you don’t have to do it alone.”

Azzi exhaled, melting into Paige’s hold. Eyes fluttered closed, “Okay.” She started. “I’m trying to trust you. I’m trying to believe you. Thank you.”

“Do you want to make the rules now? Are you in a good headspace for that?” Paige questioned quietly.

“I’m okay,” She replied with a nod.

They go over rules the same way they went over their agreement. Paige led, and Azzi agreed and offered suggestions.

“I’ll write a plan, or a list of things you need to do every day. Your first rule is to try to do everything on the list.”

“Try?” Azzi questioned.

“Try. There may be days where you can’t do everything, but I care more about you making the effort than getting everything perfect.”

Azzi nodded, and they moved to the next one.

“If you don’t know what to do, ask.” A nod.

“You can say pause whenever you feel overwhelmed.” Furrowed brow. “You can always ask for a break, a time to breathe.” A nod.

“One meal with us every day.” A small smile and nod.

“At least ten minutes doing something for you every day. It can be reading, or going for a walk, or going to get your hair or nails done. Something.”

“Why?” Azzi questioned.

“You have to pour into yourself, Azzi. I need you to know it’s okay to prioritize yourself and that you’re allowed to serve yourself and no one else.”

Brow furrowed again. “Okay. I think I understand.” She nodded slowly.

“You journal every day. Just dump everything from your mind so you aren’t thinking about it all day. I won’t read it unless you ask me to. You can use a sticky note or something if you want.” A slow nod.

“This rule is the most important.” Paige said. “No disappearing.” She said firmly. “If you need space, if you need a break, let me know. Soleil is depending on you; you can’t ghost her.”

“I – I love her. I would never do that to her.” Azzi whispers, looking to the fort where the girl was snuggled deep in blankets.

Paige followed her gaze. “Do you want rules about Soleil too?”

Azzi nodded slowly.

“Soleil’s comfort comes first. Even if you’re pissed at me, wait until she’s not in the middle. She’s an empath, she’ll pick up on it and be confused.” Another nod.

“You do a bedtime story with her when she asks.” A smile and nod.

“We do one family thing together every week. And we take turns choosing. Soleil, then you, then me.”

“That sounds good.” Azzi said slowly, thinking through all of the rules. “Can I add some?” She questions hesitantly.

The smile Paige gives her is brighter than the sun. “Of course you can.”

“Okay,” Azzi gives a matching smile. “If I do something wrong, please explain and tell me kindly. I want to know, but I don’t want to get in my head about it.”

“That’s a good rule, Azzi. Keep going, please.”

Her face reddens a bit. “I like helping, but I don’t like being forced or ridiculed when I don’t do enough. Can you let me help with something every day?” Azzi questioned.

Paige nodded. “What would you like to help with?”

“Um, anything. I like to cook, as long as it isn’t forced. I like doing things with Soleil.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll keep that in mind.” Paige encourages.

“I think we should start and end the day with a check-in? That way you don’t have to see the journal every day, but you can still know what’s going in. And if you’re upset about something, we can talk about it.”

Paige smiled, “That seems doable. I’ll figure something out for the mornings I have to leave early.”

Azzi nodded in thanks. “If I get quiet, that doesn’t mean I want to leave. I just shutdown sometimes. If I get too overwhelmed, or if there’s too much going on in my head. It doesn’t mean I’m running – I just need time to process.”

Paige grabbed on of Azzi’s hands, stopping the fidgeting. “I get that. I do that too sometimes. A lot of times, actually.”

A lull fell over the pair. “Did you have any more?” The blonde questioned.

Azzi shifted nervously. “Just one. You already kind of do this. But if you feel like it, you can always remind me I’m safe.” Her eyes darted to Paige’s quickly. “It helps when you hold my neck or my knee. Touch helps. You speak a lot too, that helps a lot.”

“I’m happy it’s helping,” Paige smiled. “I’ll keep doing that. Thank you for helping with the rules, Azzi.”

Paige got up, coming back after a minute. “Here’s a journal for you.”

The journal was hardbacked and soft pink. Written across the front in delicate, gold script were the words Bloom Where You Are Planted. The pages were thick, lined in light pink. A gold, satin ribbon would mark Azzi’s place. It was a beautiful journal.

Azzi took it and turned to page two of the journal, writing the title Our Rules. She underlined it twice.

Paige waited until Azzi was distracted with Soleil waking, then gently wrote one more rule at the bottom of the original list:

16. You’re allowed to want more. You just have to tell me.

She didn’t point it out.

But Azzi saw it. And she didn’t cross it out.

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It was well after lunch when Paige remembered something, something that could have been jarring for Azzi.

“Hey, Az,” she started nervously. Azzi looked up from the coloring sheet she was doing with Soleil. “I know it’s last minute, but there’s a dinner tonight that we’re supposed be attending.”

Dark brows shot up to her hairline. “Tonight?”

“Yeah,” Paige answered with a grimace. “If it’s too short notice, I can go by myself.” She rushed out.

“It’s okay, Paige. What time are we supposed to be ready?” She giggled.

Paige’s face reddened as she stood slowly, ready to flee. “In 37 minutes.”

“PAIGE!” Azzi exclaimed, giggling stopped.

“I’m gonna go get ready and call KK to watch Soleil, bye!” Paige said, running to her bedroom.

She messaged her best friend, who replied that she was on her way up. Turning to her closet, Paige thumbed through her suits, landing on a custom Alexander McQueen option. She pulled the pants on quickly, trying to decide if she should wear a shirt or not. They would be outside, and the temperature dropped a bit at night. Azzi may need a jacket when the temperature did fall, so Paige needed something under hers so she could offer the green blazer when the time was right. She pulled on a crisp white shirt and a pair of platform loafers. She slicked her hair back into a bun, putting on the armor needed to survive a night with these investors. Her makeup was simple; neutral eyes, concealer, and lip gloss. And she was ready.

Azzi was walking back into the living room when Paige came out, heels clacking on the wood. She was gorgeous in her fitted, black dress. There was a slit running up her left leg, letting the blonde see the strappy, gold sandals she’d selected. The neck was high, hiding her cleavage and showcasing her shoulders. Her hair was tied up in an elegant bun complemented nicely with pavé gold hoops.

Her brown eyes glared at Paige. “I’m so mad at you.” Lips twitching upward. “Less than an hour to prepare for a fancy event is diabolical.”

“I’m sorry, I swear I just forgot!” Paige exclaimed.

“Come on, Blondie. Let’s get this over with.” Azzi rolled her eyes.

The ride to the restaurant wasn’t long, but it was enough for Azzi to go silent with anxiety.

“What’s up, Az.” Paige questioned as they rode in her Porches Panorama.

Azzi sighed deeply, “I don’t know what to expect.” She paused. “For the first event, I wasn’t really expected to know anything, because it was my first event. But now? I should know the proper rules of etiquette. I should know everything because they’re going to expect me to,”

Azzi should have seen Paige’s vibrant smile and her thoughts at the dress was wearing, but instead, she saw all the ridicules people could say about her and her body.

She put all the thoughts away and took a deep breath. She could do this.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Rules if you didn’t track them all:

Try everything on the day’s list

Ask if I don’t know what to do

Ask for a break if I need

One meal with Paige and Soleil every day

Ten minutes for myself every day

Mind dump in the journal every day

No disappearing

Soleil’s comfort comes first

Bedtime story with Soleil whenever she wants

One activity with Soleil and Paige every week

Be gentle with corrections and criticism

At least one thing to help every day

Check ins at the beginning and end of the day

Quietness doesn’t mean running

Safety checks and comments

You’re allowed to want more. You just have to tell me.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics #terms of endearment

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blueberrybirdsworld · 27 days ago

Text

Collision 11/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : SMAU, Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : none

CHAPTER 11 : SMAU

Serie Masterlist

Lando stirred in his room, wrapped in a sheet, limbs heavy with sleep. The ceiling fan above spun lazily. Outside, the sound of the ocean whispered in through the open windows.

He blinked once, twice, adjusting to the warmth, to the hum of tropical sun.

He had slept in, really slept in, the first time in days since he arrived, he’d let himself fall, maybe because it was easier than thinking. Than missing her.

The smell of fresh fruit and something sizzling wafted through the air.

Then came the music : loud, sunny, Brazilian pop with too much rhythm for how early it was. And laughter. A burst of it, coming from the kitchen, echoing across the patio. Rebecca and Kika, probably. Maybe Alexandra. His friends were already up and living.

Lando rolled out of bed, hair a mess, shirtless in old grey shorts. He scratched at the back of his neck and made his way down the hallway toward the kitchen.

He smiled briefly when he saw the scene, Pierre flipping pancakes, Max already halfway through a smoothie, Carlos and Charles mock-dancing by the coffee machine, all of them sun-kissed and laughing like the world was brand new.

But even standing in that sunlit room, the warm tile under his feet, the sound of joy all around him.

His heart was still in London.

In a quiet flat where a ballerina wore his hoodie and kissed him slow.

He walked past them with a quiet wave and grabbed a banana from the counter, mind still elsewhere.

And then, his phone rang.

Her name lit up the screen.

'Ariana '

His heart stuttered.

He answered before the second ring. “Ari?”

“Lando,” she breathed. Her voice was raw. Shaky. Wrong.

He straightened up fast, banana forgotten. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” Her voice cracked. “Something happened.”

His body went cold. “Ari, what is it? Are you hurt? Do I need to come back? Just tell me, I’ll—”

“No,” she said quickly. “No, don’t come back. It’s not that. It’s not life-threatening.”

The sound of her breath hitched, and he could tell she was crying. Really crying.

His voice dropped. “Talk to me.”

“I hurt my ankle, badly this time” she whispered. “ During rehearsal.”

He closed his eyes. “Shit.”

“It’s not broken,” she rushed to say. “But it’s badly bruised. The physio said it needs rest. Four weeks, at least.”

His mouth went dry.

“They’ve already transferred my roles to someone else,” she continued, her voice now trembling. “I can’t dance. I had to pull out of everything. They told me to stop immediately. They said if I push it, it could lead to a tear.”

Lando leaned hard against the wall.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said, sobbing now. “It's my fault, I push to much and now I pay the price, fuck what I was thinking...”

He could hear how broken she felt. The helplessness behind every word. Like her whole identity had cracked with that one injury.

“I feel like a failure,” she whispered. “Everyone else is working. They’re on stage. They’re doing something. I’m just… alone.”

“Ari, no—”

“I am. I’m alone. My friends are all busy. I can’t train. I can’t perform. My contract here is ending. I won’t have a salary until Paris in February. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be if I’m not dancing.”

Her voice crumbled on that last sentence.

Lando’s stomach twisted.

And then, without hesitation, he said the one thing that came to him:

“Come to Brazil.”

Silence.

Ariana sniffled. “What?”

“Come here,” he repeated. “Come stay with us. With me. You wouldn’t be alone.”

“Lando…”

“I mean it.”

She went quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was small. “I don’t want to intrude. It’s your friends. I barely know them. I’d feel out of place.”

“You know Max. You know Pietra. They already adore you. And the others? They’re amazing. They’ll love you, Ari.”

“I wouldn’t even have the budget,” she said, almost apologetically. “Not for a plane ticket. Or a share in the house. I have to wait until my contract kicks back in next month. I can’t just—”

“Ariana.”

He cut her off gently, but firmly.

“I’ll pay for it. Everything.”

“Lando—”

“I’m serious,” he said. “Flight, room, food, whatever you need. If you don’t have a swimsuit, I’ll buy you one. If you want mangoes for breakfast and iced tea and a playlist made just for you, I’ll handle it.”

“But—”

“I want you here,” he said, his voice steady now. “Not just so you won’t be alone. Because I don’t want to be here without you. I feel off. You’ve been in my head since I left. And if this injury is giving you a rare break, maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign?”

“That you’re supposed to rest,” he said. “Not just your ankle. You. You give so much to dancing. Maybe it’s time to receive something back. Let people care for you. Let me take care of you, please.”

A pause.

He could hear her breathing through the line.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It feels too big.”

“It’s not,” he said. “You already matter to me. And this? This isn’t an obligation. It’s a chance. So just say yes.”

A longer pause.

“…okay.”

His breath caught. “Yeah?”

“I’ll come.”

He let out a sound somewhere between a shout and a laugh, running his hand through his hair. “Oh my God, Ari.”

She laughed too, broken, teary, but real.

“You sure?”

“I am,” she said. “I don’t know why. But I trust you.”

“You won’t regret it,” he promised. “Send me your passport info. I’ll book it now. I’ll be waiting at the airport. Everything’s going to be okay.”

She sniffled again. “You’re kind of wonderful, you know that?”

He smiled. “Only because you are.”

As soon as the call ended, Lando exploded into the kitchen.

“She’s coming!” he shouted.

Everyone looked up.

Max blinked. “What?”

“Ariana. She’s coming here.”

Pietra dropped her fork. “Wait, what?!”

“Tomorrow. I’m booking her flight now. She’s staying with us.”

Kika clapped her hands. “Yes. Oh my god, I wanted to meet her properly!”

Carlos grinned. “Is she okay?”

“She hurt her ankle,” Lando said. “She’s out of rehearsals. She’s struggling, and she needs a break, and I need her here, so she’s coming.”

Pietra was already grabbing her phone. “She can stay in the guest room next to ours. I’ll go into town for snacks and sunscreen. And dresses. She’ll need something summery!”

Max raised a brow. “You’re glowing, man.”

Lando grinned. “I feel like I’ve just won something.”

He didn’t care about the trip anymore. Not the parties. Not the beach.

He just cared that she was on her way.

And suddenly, the house didn’t feel like someone else’s vacation anymore.

It felt like something was finally beginning.

The airport was buzzing with the heat of midday sun, the air thick with humidity and travel and the scent of unfamiliar spices drifting from the cafés. Lando stood at the arrivals gate, pacing in a tight little loop in his hoodie and shorts, sunglasses pushed into his curls. He checked the board again. And again.

Landing: 11:42 — Paris to São Paulo.

He felt like he was going to explode.

When her flight finally touched down and the passengers began spilling out in waves of tired faces and dragging luggage, his heart jumped into his throat with every brunette who passed, every girl with ballet posture or a delicate tote bag.

And then, there she was.

Wearing a delicate, rosy pink camisole top that flowed around her like soft cotton candy, paired with a white skirt that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs. Her sandals tapped softly against the tile, one hand pulling her small suitcase.

Lando forgot how to breathe.

She saw him, and smiled.

It wasn’t the polite kind. It was relief and warmth and maybe a little disbelief that they were actually in the same place again.

“Ari,” he breathed.

She walked straight into his arms and he hugged her like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it. She smelled just like he remember and he get lost in the scent of her perfume.

“You’re really here,” he murmured into her hair.

“I’m really here.”

He pulled back slightly, hands on her waist. “How’s the ankle?”

“Still attached,” she said with a soft laugh. “Bruised, but okay.”

“And you? You need water? Food? Flowers for your hair?”

“I just need you,” she said, so simply it nearly shattered him.

The drive from the airport to the house was filled with low music and endless questions.

Lando had his hand resting gently on her knee, his other on the wheel. “Okay, so seriously. What do you need? Food? Sunscreen? Ice cream? I can buy you every flavor.”

She smiled. “Lando…”

“Or, do you want to nap first? Or maybe you want to shower? Or—”

“I just want to get there,” she said softly, lacing her fingers through his. “Be with you. That’s it.”

She turned to look at him, her hair catching the sun. “You sure you’re okay with me coming here like this?”

He squeezed her hand. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

When they arrived, the house burst with sunlight and laughter.

The open terrace was alive with movement, flip-flops, music, girls in bathing suits and boys tossing balls into the pool. It looked like the setting of a summer dream.

Pietra was the first to spot them.

She dropped her drink and ran.

“Ari !” she yelled, arms flinging around her in a blur of perfume and colorful nails. “You’re here! Oh my god, I was praying you’d come!”

Ariana giggled, hugging her back. “You did?”

“Of course! I already picked out a beach dress for you! You will look like a fairy.”

Then Max showed up beside them, offering a big grin and a warm handshake. “Welcome to paradise, ballerina.”

Ariana grinned back. “Thank you. And… thanks for letting me crash your trip.”

“Crash? Please. You’re an upgrade.”

Lando slipped beside her again, hand lightly at her lower back as he led her inside. “Alright, time to meet the others.”

One by one, the rest of the group came forward, Rebecca, Charles and Alexandra, Carlos, Pierre and sweet Kika, all smiles, all warm. There were compliments, hugs, drinks passed into her hands, plates made for her with fruit and little snacks. Someone took her suitcase. Someone else offered her sunscreen even though she hadn’t been outside for more than a minute.

“You look like you belong here,” Rebecca said, admiring Ariana’s outfit. “Seriously, adorable.”

“That top is so romantic,” Kika added.

Ariana laughed, blushing. “I wasn’t sure what to wear, so I just… packed summer.”

“You look like a spring goddess,” Alexandra said, already pouring her a coconut mocktail.

Lando just stood beside her, glowing with pride, watching everyone fall in love with her the way he already had.

Dinner that night was laid out under the stars.

They’d arranged long tables on the patio with glowing fairy lights, tropical flowers, candles. Everyone helped. Lando grilled meat. Max cut up fruit while Ariana was nestled beside Pietra, giggling as the group tossed jokes and playful jabs across the table.

“So, Ari,” Charles asked, “you’re the one who crashed the go-kart?”

Ariana covered her face. “No one was supposed to know about that.”

“Oh, we know everything,” Rebecca said. “Lando talks in his sleep.”

“I do not—”

“He said your name last night,” Max chimed in. “Swear on my life.”

Ariana glanced at Lando with wide eyes. “You did?”

Lando flushed red. “Fake news.”

“He said ‘Ari, don’t spin out!’” Carlos teased, laughing so hard he nearly spilled his drink.

Everyone roared with laughter.

Ariana leaned into Lando’s shoulder. “You’re never going to live this down.”

He looked down at her, eyes soft. “I don’t mind. If it means you’re here.”

After dinner came the talk of sleeping arrangements.

Pietra turned to Ariana. “So, we have the guest room, next to ours. It’s cute, has AC, and I put out fresh towels.”

Lando cleared his throat, standing behind Ariana. “Actually, I was wondering if she wanted to… stay with me.”

The group quieted just a beat, eyebrows raised.

“I mean, only if you want,” he added quickly. “I’ve got the biggest bed. No pressure. Just… I sleep better with you there.”

Ariana looked up at him. Her heart squeezed.

“I’d like that,” she said softly.

Lando led her upstairs, making sure she didn't hurt her ankle more and carrying her smaller bag while another friend brought the suitcase up. His hand never left hers.

His room was airy and clean, a big king bed dressed in linen sheets, a fan humming in the celling, and a sliding glass door that opened to a balcony looking out at the ocean.

As soon as they were alone, he dropped the bag and rushed to her, arms wrapping around her waist, lips pressing against her mouth in a kiss that was all relief and longing.

She laughed into it. “Missed me?”

“Missed you like air.”

She looked up at him, barefoot in his room, looking at him.

And smiled.

“I’m happy I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m happy with you.”

@landonorris sunset swims, cold drinks, best company 🌊🍻 📍Brazil

@maxfewtrell did you finally smile because i beat you at paddle or bc of the caipirinhas 🤔

@pietrapilao this energy >>> 🫶🏼

@charles_leclerc you forgot to tag your personal photographer

@alexsaintmleux you're literally glowing now 🌞

@pierregasly vibes immaculate tbh 😎

@carlossainz55 this beach trip aged you backwards mate

@landoeditz he looks like he’s breathing again omg 😭😭

@lantern.boy not to be that person but... this is love era vibes 🥹

@sunsetgrid the glow, the smile, the energy... someone is happy now

@f1shenanigans went from "lost boy" to "beach boy" real quick 🏖️✨

@brasilgpqueen this is NOT the same man from two days ago i fear 😭💛

@fastlanefever i’m not saying he’s in love but like... he’s in LOVE.

@drsopenpls the way you can tell he’s healed just by the sunset pics 😭🫶

@pietrapilao

girls summer trip (plus 5 annoying other guys we can’t get rid of) 💖

@maxfewtrell we’re literally the reason you’re having fun stop lying 😭

@charles_leclerc you wouldn’t survive without us be honest 😌

@alexandra_saintmleux girls trip supremacy though 💅🏻

@kikagomes literally forced to bring the boys 😭

@rebeccadonaldson pietra carried the vibes all week tbh ✨

@pierregasly i demand a recount i swear i’m more fun than you give me credit for

@landonorris i’m offended. i’m charming. and helpful. and i bring snacks.

@carlossainz55 5 girls against 5 guys… who's winning? 😎 (comment deleted)

@grandprixgossip HELLOOOOO WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT CARLOS COMMENT 😭

@sunsetpitlane WHO IS THE FIFTH GIRL I’M NOT OK

@paddocktea carlos SAID 5 girls before deleting it 😭 lando you got something to tell us???

@lantern.boy SOFT LAUNCH SOFT LAUNCH SOFT LAUNCH 🚨

@beachvibesf1 bro carlos accidentally exposed lando’s secret gf LMAO

@fasttracklovers not the ballerina girl rumors being alive and thriving again 🩰

@f1wildchild the fandom is in SHAMBLES over a deleted comment 😭

@drsmodeon lando if you’re happy just SAY THAT no need for mystery 💀

@gridgossipers and here we thought we were over sadboi lando… turns out he’s just secretly whipped 🫶

@arianawaves Off dancing for a while, got an injury but nothing serious. I miss my cat but it's good to take some alone time for me as well 🤍🌊

@worrywartsclub is the injury really nothing serious? 😭 sending love anyway!!!

@oceanbby this energy is so peaceful i’m obsessed 😭🩵

@goldenhourspells we love a girl healing and thriving ✨✨

@sunsetfairy the vibes are IMMACULATE 🌺🌊💫

@beachblossom wait is she in Brazil too or am i crazy ???

@balletbabes someone said she’s with “friends” but why it looks like she's in the same place as Lando ??? 🤔

@catmomari okay but who’s taking these pics if she’s “alone” 👀👀👀

@fairytalemess pls let it be lando i’m begging 😭

Comments have been restricted on this post

@f1teaspill 🚨 Spotted! #LandoNorris seen getting cozy with a mystery brunette on a beach in Brazil 🌊 The pair were photographed hugging, laughing, and looking very very close. Fans are speculating this could be the mystery girl hinted at during the past weeks... 👀 No confirmation yet, but judging by these pics, Lando might not be as single as we thought!

@pitlaneprincess NO BECAUSE WHO IS SHE ??? I NEED NAMES 😭😭

@lantern.boy lando was never sad he was just missing her LMAO

@sunsetgrid her looking at him like he hung the stars bye 😭🖤

@f1shenanigans the way he’s clutching her like she’s gonna disappear 😭 real romantic movie behavior

@sadboylando guess we really were clowning ourselves with the single lando agenda huh 🤡

@softforlando she’s so pretty even from the back this isn’t fair 💔

@carlossainzstan i knew it. i KNEW he didn’t go on a couple trip to thirdwheel he was hiding her 😭

@pietrasheart lowkey living for him being this whipped. happy for u king 🫶🏼

@lando4everr if this is who’s been making him smile lately, then i approve 👏🏼

@weneedbetter idk was not Lando more into blonde 👀 not feeling this one tbh

@saltypitstop watch it be another "model" who disappears by the next season 🙄

@haterzcorner why does he always downgrade like i’m sorry but you can do better lando 😭😭

@speedyheartbreak hope she’s not using him for fame

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006

Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist !

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sugrhigh · 7 months ago

Text

BOY NEXT DOOR 11 - ( c.s )

part ten

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, starts fluffy (borderline cringe but get over it) and then smurtyyy baby ITS THE FINALE so enjoy

a/n: wow, a chapter coming to a close. you may get an epilogue…you may not…only time will tell. thank you to anyone who has supported me in general and especially on this specific series!! i had such a fun time with this concept and appreciate yall sticking it out with me fr <3

you’re really regretting your promise to chris now. it’s a day later and there’s less than an hour until the game, which is heightening your nerves like nothing else. you smooth your shaky hands over your sweatshirt, continually glancing over at your bed.

his jersey rests there, crisp and clean. it smells like him too; you picked up on the familiar scent when you were holding it in your hands earlier.

he left it in your mailbox, shooting you a vague text before heading up to the arena. though he didn’t tell you what he put in there in his message, you already knew. and you’ve been wrestling with how you want to play this ever since.

you got so comfortable wearing his stuff, especially to games, that it kind of feels weird not to. but you have a feeling that a lot more people know about what happened than you initially expected, which scares the shit out of you.

you suppose you have to get a little uncomfortable, though. it’s been so long since you’ve felt this way, since someone’s excited you, or even hurt you like this.

and it fucking sucked to be so disappointed. but you never ever thought you would bear witness to chris sturniolo saying his first real i love you, especially to you. it was maybe the one thing he could’ve done to convince you, because it was just so unexpected.

you already knew you loved him, so getting that confirmation from him first was huge.

you blow out a breath, still so antsy as you twist around, watching your reflection with a fierce intensity. nothing you’ve tried feels right, and it’s beyond frustrating.

just put it on. what’s the harm?

you’re tearing your hoodie off a moment later, tossing it to the floor as you reach for his jersey. it slips over your head perfectly, wrapping you in subtle hints of his cologne as you adjust it on your shoulders.

you can’t help but smile slightly as you glance in the mirror; if you ignore reality enough, it almost seems like you’re the same person you were a month ago; a blissfully ignorant girl supporting the boy she cared about.

cares about, your brain autocorrects you.

you never really stopped. you wouldn’t have gone over to his house yesterday in the first place if you truly had.

“hey, are you almost—” ramona stops dead in her tracks when she looks up from her feet, seeing you standing in the number 3.

you’re immediately ashamed, for whatever reason, like she caught you doing something wrong. part of it does feel wrong, and you’re about to say so. but then she smiles, like really smiles, and clasps her hands together happily. “finally!”

the reaction shocks you, to say the least, and you know it’s written all over your face. you shake your head a little, trying to find some way to ask her what she possibly means by that.

mona rolls her eyes at you playfully. “what, you thought i wouldn’t support you?”

you shrug, mouth still parted in surprise. you’re kind of smiling though; you’re happy she feels this way, you just weren’t necessarily expecting it.

plus, you didn’t actually tell them how you felt when you gave them the rundown last night after the bars, so neither of them could’ve known what you were experiencing. for the most part you were acting like it was strictly business or something, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

“i don’t know what i thought, to be honest.” you finally say, shifting around on your feet uncomfortably.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

you sigh and mess with your hair a bit. “because it’s not, like, official or anything, and i’m still not even sure i want to wear this to the game. i was just putting it on, i guess.”

she nods, and you’re waiting for her to say more, but she doesn’t. ramona just walks over, pulling you into her arms without another word.

you’re once again stunned, but in a pleasantly unanticipated way. you’re beyond tired of crying, but these tears are different. they’re happy, because you can feel your heart mending, and mona knows that too.

“you took the time, and i think you’re ready to forgive, angel. i can see it every time i look at you, that you’re still thinking of him, and that’s okay. he’s clearly been a fucking wreck, and i honestly believe he loves you because he would never utter those words if he didn’t.” she laughs into your hair slightly, and you can hear the emotion in her voice.

despite everything, you let out a breathy chuckle too. “you’re amazing, you know that? i really lucked the hell out with you.”

she pulls away, still smiling despite her shining eyes. you dab at your own, trying your best not to ruin the makeup you had so carefully applied half an hour earlier.

“i love you forever. cass and i just want to see you happy and i think being with him is what you want. so if it really is, you should wear it.” ramona gives the jersey a little tug.

you know you’re going to now, and you decide you don’t care what anyone else thinks about it. it’s between you and him, and if the people you trust most support you, then nothing else matters.

“i…i will. and thanks, really. you always help clear my head.” you nudge her a little with a grin.

“of course,” she wraps a hand around your arm so she can start pulling you toward the door, “now hurry up, because we’re on the verge of being late and cass is waiting!”

being away from the rink this long makes the lights somehow feel a hundred times brighter. they’re beating down on you as you and your roommates make your way to your seats, the same ones that you’d become accustomed to ever since that first game.

it’s been a while since you’ve felt quite this many eyes on you, and it’s insanely unsettling. you focus on navigating the steps below you, because you know if you don’t you’ll fall and make yourself look even worse.

it’s at least loud, considering they’ve got all the music going for warm ups. you’re glad you can’t hear the crowd of students whispering about how pathetic you are, or how stupid you’re acting.

maybe it’s true, but you’re beyond that now. you’re willing to get hurt again, even though you hope with all of your heart that the day never comes, because you’ll regret it forever if you don’t try.

people make mistakes. but they only get one chance to make it up in your book, and this is chris’s chance.

so you square your shoulders and try to wear the jersey with pride as you guys finally arrive in the front row, even though it’s difficult to act confident.

fake it till you make it, or whatever they say.

your eyes find him skating around almost immediately, like they’re just naturally drawn in his direction. you suppose that it shouldn’t be surprising, at least not after watching so many games.

the way he moves is different; he’s smooth, always one step ahead, like he’s playing an entirely different game. it’s easy to spot, because he’s somehow the most fluid and the most aggressive on the ice.

you watch as chris skates back to the blue line, circling their half of the rink while they all take practice shots. that’s when he looks over at your section, and you can see the relief wash over his face when he spots you.

he nods, and you can see a devilish smile forming on his face as he snaps the puck into the net once again. it makes you uneasy when the rest of the team starts to glance at you as well, only to look toward one another after like some sort of signal.

you try to shake it, pretend like your gut is completely wrong, and for a couple minutes you can. they stretch and do more drills and everything seems normal, or as normal as it can be right now.

until they all slow down, gathering around the bench one by one to create a warped huddle. the opposing team is skating off of the ice now with five minutes left of warmups, and you’ve never been more on edge. mona and cass aren’t paying enough attention, so when you look at them in alarm, they’re purely concerned.

“what? why does your face look like that?” cassidy questions.

before you can even begin to explain the weird feeling that’s settled in your bones, the entire BU team breaks as the lights shut off. you can hear the confused murmuring of the fans over the music, which is fading out slowly now.

each of them line up, getting into position as if they’ve practiced a hundred times, forming a pyramid shape in the middle of the ice. chris stands alone in the front, and there’s a microphone in his hand, and—oh god, fuck.

seconds later the spotlight flares over to shine on him, and even though you know there’s no way he can actually see with it directly in his eyes, it still feels like he’s looking right at you.

you watch him gulp nervously, and you’re just as terrified of whatever is coming next.

“uh—hi everyone. i’m your captain, chris, and i wanted to thank each and everyone one of you for coming out tonight.” he starts off, trying to brush away his fear.

though the crowd is still obviously confused, they’re applauding regardless due to their special recognition. on the other hand remain completely still, trying to avoid panicking so publicly.

“what the fuck is he doing?” mona whisper shouts in your direction, and all you can do is shrug even though you know where he’s going with this.

somehow, you can just feel it in your gut.

“seriously, you guys are beyond amazing. you’re the reason playing here is so incredible,” chris smiles charmingly as the noise dies down, pausing dramatically for a moment before continuing, “but i’m actually standing out here tonight like an idiot because there’s somebody in this crowd that i need to apologize to.”

your stomach falls to your feet, and you can’t do anything besides stare out across the rink at him. he’s looking your way again, brilliant blue gaze still able to pick up on exactly where you are, and you feel a shock course through your veins.

“i did wrong by her, and i’ve been kicking myself every day since. she’s the most radiant and passionate person in every room, and she’s also the only reason i’m even here in this arena today. the truth is that i love her, which is why i think it’s time to turn the tables and embarrass myself a little bit to prove that. plus you guys get a heck of a show in the process.” he jokes, earning some apprehensive chuckles in response.

chris clears his throat, trying not to let his voice crack. despite what you think, he actually can see you through the brightness, which makes his heart leap to his throat. “so to the girl of my dreams, i’m sorry. and i hope this shows you that i meant it when i said i’d never stop fighting.”

every single part of you is screaming in a way you can’t explain; you’re completely entranced, but in the same way that people can’t look away from a car crash.

the audience chatters as the lights go out again, but it doesn’t take long before ain't too proud to beg starts playing to cut them off. you recognize it immediately, and now you can’t help but crack a smile.

this was the song you listened to most when you’d drive around in his car, singing along together with the heat blasting on your way to nowhere in particular. you can’t hear it anymore without thinking about him.

the stadium ignites in a dreamy red glow, and each member of the team begins skating in slow circles, kicking their feet out lightly to the rhythm. chris remains up front, gliding around as if he’s walking on clouds.

he tries not to look at you too much, because this moment is about putting himself on display, but his attention darts to you every couple of seconds. you’re clearly stunned, but he sees the small grin on your lips, and that lights the fire he needs to go all out.

“i know you wanna leave me, but i refuse to let you go,” chris begins, voice surprisingly strong as he glides around, “if i have to beg n’plead for your sympathy, i don’t mind ‘cause you mean that much to me.”

you can hear people starting to sing along, and you amaze yourself by joining in for the chorus as well. cassidy and ramona sway beside you, both shaking you lightly as they try to contain their shrieks of delight.

“ain’t too proud to beg, and you know it, please don’t leave me girl.” he belts out, unable to contain his happiness when he sees your reaction.

his team continues to dance on the rest of the ice, leaving the middle for him as they goof off, each adding their own personal flair to the simple choreography. you laugh when you see connor and ben doing the robot at each other, simply because they look so damn stupid.

“ain’t too proud to plead, baby baby, please don’t leave me girl.” chris holds the mic between both palms, shaking his hands in prayer as he skates backwards suavely.

the beat swells as the jazz blares through the speakers, and they all line up across the center of the ice. there are tears in your eyes as chris joins them, arms all linked over each others shoulders as they begin a rockette kick line.

despite how insanely unsafe it probably is to do on skates, they’re all killing it. the whole stadium is roaring now; laughter, cheers, chanting along, you name it. you’re amazed, eyes flashing along with the glowing atmosphere.

having him serenade you with this song, in front of all of these people, is something you never thought possible.

there’s an exhilarated expression on his face, still completely focused on you as he sings his heart out, and it makes you completely weak. his defined features are as striking as ever, cheeks flushed slightly from the adrenaline of it all.

he’s the same handsome boy you thought you knew, and yet here he is, surprising you again.

you’re bouncing around as the song nears the end, only for chris to come skating forward from the others so he can slide on his knees across the rink, headed your way. it’s so dramatic and so fucking silly that you’ve got a stitch in your side from laughing.

for a moment you just look at each other, separated only by the plexiglass wall, and everything else in your mind quiets. you no longer hear the anxious thoughts, or the crowd, or even your friends screaming beside you.

chris’s chest heaves as he finally relaxes, lowering his outstretched arms so that he can shrug bashfully, as if he’s asking you what you think.

you shrug back, but you’re beaming so hard that your true feelings are on display regardless. you can see his matching teary eyes, and truly for the very first time, neither of you care about anyone else.

he’s fucking whipped, and he’ll tell everyone in the world without a second thought. you’re certain of that now, and so is he.

finally, chris pushes himself up and holds the mic back to his mouth, one arm out as he waves to the sea of people. “thank you everyone! get loud tonight, and as always go terriers!”

they all skate off the ice, and you see his friends embracing him in excitement as they head back to the locker room. chris takes one final look over his shoulder, and you give him a wave of encouragement.

he disappears and your attention finally turns to your friends, their mouths still hanging open from the rather electrifying show.

“i can’t believe…i mean he just…” cassidy tries to form a sentence, but ends up pressing a hand to her lips instead.

“that kid is so fucking in love with you, wow.” ramona giggles to herself.

you’re about to object, but you know she’s right. and after that display, there’s certainly no point in arguing about it, because then you’d just be giving some shitty explanation.

before you can even start babbling, your phone vibrates in your pocket and you freeze again. you know who it is, but your heart is pounding against your ribcage as you check anyways.

chris

we’ll talk after?

it's the first text from him in weeks that you’re going to respond to, the first of many you suppose. that makes you smile as you type out an answer.

y/n

only if you win :)

and he does. he does win. in fact, chris went out there and played probably the best game of his entire career.

a hat trick, which he’s never done in his life, all for you.

the team is electric, and he knows the party will be coming back to his place as they all rage in the locker room after the game. it was incredible, and this moment with them is great, but the only person he wants to see is you.

so he slips into the hallway, already dialing your number as the door finally swings shut to contain some of the noise.

you pick up on the first ring.

“i won.” chris states immediately, and he can hear the grin in his own voice.

“you did.” you respond.

it’s a lame attempt at being coy, and you both know it. he leans his shoulder up against the wall, shaking his head even though you can’t see it.

“three goals was pretty impressive, huh? probably worth talking to me over, at least in my opinion.” chris teases, and your laugh gives him butterflies.

you glance over at your friends, who try to look busy as you all wait for the bus, though it’s very clear that they’re trying to eavesdrop. “i can’t disagree there, captain.”

he snorts before he can help it. “so does that mean you’re coming over?”

it seems like an eternity before you answer, even though it’s maybe five seconds total. “yeah, i’ll see you at home.”

when chris confronts the locker room once more he tries to part ways with everyone graciously, but they can see through him. he can’t get out of there quick enough, and yet everyone is just as excited to watch him leave.

none of them have ever seen him like this. he’s never seen himself like this, and despite being horrified of that in the past, there’s nothing holding him back anymore.

he tries not to get too antsy on the drive home, and you’re buzzing equally as much as you chat with your friends.

chris keeps working himself up even thinking about being close to you, about actually getting to belong to you. he’s missed having you in his hands, in the most innocent and sinful ways possible.

he beats you back by a few minutes, so he hangs around in the front yard like a dog, kicking at the dirt to try and distract himself.

by the time you come walking down the street, laughing along with cassidy and ramona, he feels like his heart is going haywire. your face coming into focus under the street light only makes it worse, because you look so damn perfect.

when you catch sight of him your expression transforms immediately; you’re somehow more visibly timid, but he can also tell that you’re dying to speak.

“‘sup chris?” cassidy nods, arms crossed over her chest as she turns with ramona toward their house.

“pleasure to see you ladies again.” he charms, giving a little two finger salute.

they both giggle and wave him off, whispering amongst themselves as they leave the two of you alone. its just like his first time ever laying eyes on you, because he’s equally as entranced as he was three years ago.

“hey.” he takes a couple steps forward, hands still in his pockets.

you can tell he’s actually a bit reserved, which surprises you. chris has always been good at reading you, at calling you out, and it’s hard to believe that he can’t pick up on the fact that you’re so far beyond gone.

“hi there.” you smile and get a little closer, and he almost falls to his knees.

a few more paces forward and you’d be face to face, so close that his nose would probably brush against yours. so he moves, one foot at a time, just to give you the opportunity to say no.

but you don’t, and you know that you never will, so you ask him the one question on your mind. “do you really want to talk?”

chris blushes for what seems like the millionth time, shaking his head slowly.

“what do you think?”

he’s towering over you a bit now, stopped only a couple inches away to keep some semblance of space. you don’t want it, and he doesn’t either, so you reel him flush against you by the waistband of his sweats.

“i think you should tell me you love me one more time.” you tease, drinking in the intoxicating smell of that goddamn dior.

chris leans in the rest of the way so his mouth is hovering over yours, even though it’s suffocating to do so. “i love you. i’ll say it as many times as ya like, princess.”

your stomach is flipping. you can’t help it anymore.

so you kiss him. you wrap your arm around his torso and you pull him as close as possible and you just fucking kiss him.

he’s already melting into you, hand tangling in your hair instinctively to tug. it’s sloppy, heated, everything you’ve been holding back for weeks. tasting your signature chapstick is enough to get him all bothered, to the point where it’s embarrassing.

it’s the start of something new, all while you’re standing in the same fucking driveway where this really began.

you pull away completely breathless, though you don’t wait to slip your hand into his. chris stumbles slightly over his feet as you pull him along, a little taken aback by the change in pace.

“what, can’t keep up?” you joke as you ascend the porch with him in tow.

he finds his balance quickly, though, hot on your heels now. his palm comes down to slap your ass playfully as you’re headed through the front door and you shriek out a laugh.

“i do just fine, thank you very much.”

he’s quick to reattach himself to you, so quick in fact that you’re barely able to close the door behind you.

it’s honestly hard to even get up to his room because of how much he’s all over you; kissing your neck from behind, running his hands over waist, dragging his fingers up and down every part of your body.

chris has missed you for too long to let any second go to waste. you’re giggling in between tiny little breaths of pleasure, attempting to hold them back some, but he wants to hear more.

you carelessly stagger into his room and he kicks the door shut behind him before breaking away. chris finally takes a moment to pause so that he can turn you around and admire you.

“you know what you do to me in that jersey, seeing you out there wearing my name.” chris growls, sliding his hands underneath the synthetic material to grip your warm skin.

you push your hips to him harder, smirking when you feel his hard-on press against your lower stomach. “mhmm, you gonna do anything about it before everyone gets back?”

his hands travel higher at this, skimming up the sides of your body as it bunches up around your chest. you get the message, so you lift your arms to help him take it off only for him to toss it to the floor a second later.

“fuck ‘em…i wanna take my time with you.” chris brushes your hair over your shoulder gently.

you try not to shiver. the anticipation is killing you as he cups the side of your neck, forcing you to retreat slowly until your legs meet his bed. his chest rises and falls heavily while he looks at you, familiarizing himself with every detail again.

you take the next step and sink down, laying your back against the mattress. your hair is like a halo around you, and chris shakes his head slightly.

his knee comes in between your legs to make room for himself, and you’re turned on just watching him devour you with his eyes.

“y’look like a fuckin’ angel.” he sighs, planting his arms by your shoulders so he can hover above you now.

you tilt your head, daring him to capture your lips again. “you gonna treat me like one?”

“long as you act like one.” he taunts back.

without a second thought you fasten your legs around his waist, pulling him right against your core so you can really feel. those tight little yoga pants don’t hide your warmth, and chris lets out an involuntary groan.

“fine, have it your way.”

he shifts his weight so he can wrap one hand around your throat, and the pressure is so enjoyable that you place your own palm over his to let him know it.

your other one travels to the back of his head, gripping his roots as his mouth connects with your neck harshly.

he’s leaving his mark again, not caring how childish it is to be putting hickies in this spot specifically. chris wants everyone to see them, to know that it’s real this time, and you’re his.

you selfishly don’t care either. neither of you have said the words yet, but you’re together, and it excites you that everyone will be able to look at the proof.

he lingers in every spot, working his way to your collarbone as he rocks against you. you’re a whining mess, his hard bulge rubbing against your center perfectly, and it only gets worse when the fingers around your neck move to squeeze your tits.

the fact that your bra is unlined makes it even more arousing, the lace brushing against your hardened nipple as he pinches one between his pointer and middle.

“missed you so much.” he grumbles, his hot breath fanning across your skin while he drags his lips down further, sliding his body through your legs, “you were driving me insane.”

the kisses he presses against your stomach makes you tense slightly from the sheer amount of butterflies. chris gets closer and closer to the top of your pants, lowering his body far enough to kneel at the side of his bed.

he finally abandons his position briefly so he can look up at you through his lashes. you’ve never seen a prettier goddamn sight.

“tell me you need me, baby.” he challenges, and you’re dying to have him touching you again in any way.

“i need you, chris. so bad, please.” you beg, squirming slightly to try to get closer.

but he keeps you where you are, slowly pulling the silky material down your hips, mouth trailing along every part of you as he goes. you gasp at the sensation, only unhooking your ankles for a second to allow him to fully tug them off.

he doesn’t hesitate before he clutches the outside of both of your legs and tugs you toward his face, keeping them planted around his shoulders as his elbows dig into the mattress.

“that’s what i thought.” chris smirks, leaving more tantalizing kisses up the middle of your thighs.

your breath hitches the closer he gets, his stubble scraping your skin slightly as he ventures on. your fingers tangle in his roots when his lips finally trace along the seam of your panties, which are already humiliatingly damp.

one of his hands reaches further over your hips to shove them to the side, and feeling his fingers brush you even slightly makes you shudder just a bit.

“fucking do something.” you’re the one pleading now, though not as publicly.

chris’s laugh fans across your wetness, and goosebumps crawl their way up your skin.

“been waiting for those words.”

finally, he presses his lips against your core and you mutter a soft incoherent curse. his tongue slips out to glide across the delicate skin, for just long enough that your back arches off of the comforter.

he groans and you feel it vibrating right through you. chris has been craving you for so long, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be in this position again.

he’s already completely pussy-drunk, because his plan was to draw it out, really make you tick. but he can’t hold back; he got a taste and now he’s eating like it’s his last time, nose bumping your sensitive bud as he teases your entrance.

“shit—chris!” you cry out, gripping his hair harder in your knuckles.

he murmurs again in appreciation, because he’s always loved the feeling, and you quiver slightly from the sensation. it’s too much all at once and yet it’s never enough.

your legs instinctively tighten around his head as he works his tongue up and down fully, making sure he hits every tender spot over and over. it’s magic, however he does it.

you can feel the climax brewing in your stomach as your toes curl slightly, and chris notices your body beginning to shake more frequently.

it was gentle at first, but he’s since picked up the pace, forcing you to grind down on his face as he clutches your around his head. his fingers slide over a bit more, applying pressure to your bundle of nerves in consistent circles.

“oh fuck, gonna make me cum baby.” you barely manage to get it out between moans.

hearing you call him baby only spurs him on, his own erection begging to be freed as continues to work your cunt.

the combined pressure has you whimpering in satisfaction, head thrown back which you know is effectively messing up your hair. your eyes are screwed shut now, lips parted because you can’t seem to stop making noise.

“that’s it, sweetheart. you love my mouth so much, huh?” he pauses only for a second to goad, fingers still deliberately switching paces to draw out the ecstasy.

but then he buries his face again, flicking over your clit at the fastest speed of the night. it’s probably the most intense he’s ever been and you gasp, your breath catching in your throat before a loud whine escapes.

the stimulation is finally too much and you can’t hold back, muscles constricting as you reach your high.

chris doesn’t stop for the entire ride down, though his tongue does grow lazier as you finish for the first time of the night. he doesn’t want to let go of you, finally breaking his contact with your core only to press his wet lips against the inside of your thighs once again.

“jesus christ.” you pant, finally releasing his fluffy hair from your grip.

he chuckles slightly, peppering kisses across your legs until he’s content. “m’not done with you yet. strip.”

even though you’re still hazy from the first round, you’re surprisingly quick to follow direction. you arch your back more and unhook your frilly bra, chucking it somewhere behind you.

chris finally stands back up from his spot on the floor, and you make quick work pushing your underwear down your hips and kicking them off as he watches.

“look who’s finally listening.” he jokes with a grin.

you roll your eyes, and then a new impulse takes over; you want him to know who he belongs to now. so you sit up with him in between your legs, which surprises him enough that he’s still for a moment.

you take the opportunity to mess with the hem of his tee, slowly sliding your palms underneath and up his stomach.

“i showed you mine.” you hint, ghosting your lips over his now-exposed torso.

this time chris is the one obeying, pulling his shirt the rest of the way for you. his dick is right up against your chest, clearly straining through his sweats at this point.

you let your hands wander back down his body, nails skimming along his happy trail until you reach the top of his pants. he’s quick, yanking them down with his boxers and shoving both further away on his floor.

“really wanna ride you.” you whisper, palming him just enough.

he groans at the gentleness of your touch; he’s extra sensitive now that he’s completely exposed. precum is already leaking from his tip, so you swipe your thumb across it and his hips buck a bit in response.

you slide the slick across his shaft, pumping slowly because it’s your turn to provoke him.

“i’d literally do anything you asked.” chris can hear how weak his voice is as he caresses your hair, and he’s genuinely concerned that his eyes have permanently become hearts.

you look up at him, craning slightly to rest your cheek in his palm, and he swears he could cum right then until you pull your hand away.

“lay down.” your voice is low, sultry, and he’s hypnotized.

all he can do is move on your command, shifting past you to sprawl out across his bed, erection slapping against his waist. he barely has time to settle on his pillows before you’re crawling his direction, tossing a leg over his lap so that you can straddle him.

chris hisses out a prayer, hands going to your hips as your wetness comes in contact with his. you’re hovering, enticing him even more as you lightly slide against his base.

“quit—aahhh—teasing me.” he hums, grinding his own erection up against you harder to try and help himself out.

“can’t handle it?” you smirk, even though the truth is that neither of you can bear the torment of taking it slow.

“you’re a lot to handle.”

you know he’s messing around, but your palms press against his shoulders nonetheless so you can lift yourself a bit higher, which makes him whine in protest at the loss of contact.

you shake your head slightly, a patronizing grin finding finding its way to your face. “better get used to it, pretty boy.”

then one hand wraps around his pulsating cock, pressing his swollen head against your lips before you sink down onto it in its entirety. chris whimpers out a muddled sentence, and tight swears fumble out of your own throat as he stretches you out.

chris is overwhelmed by the rush of having you wrapped around him. you haven’t even started moving; you’re just letting him take it in, the same way that you are as he floods your senses.

“so goddamn perfect for me, fill me up so good.” you praise, finally starting to rock your hips at a grating speed.

the compliment gets to his head, and he didn’t think it was possible for you to turn him on more than you already do. he’s rutting into you seconds later, matching your pace instinctively just like you knew he would. you’ve never been bare with him like this, and you lean into the thrill as much as possible.

the passionate tempo helps ease you into his size, though you’ll admit you’ve missed the delicious sensation of having to break yourself in.

chris chokes on his breath, his fingers digging into your sides hard enough now to leave a bruise. “holy shit.”

his words spur you on and you start to really bounce, skin slapping skin as you both try to contain the sounds of pure bliss falling past your lips.

you spread your legs even wider, which allows you to feel every bulging inch of him pounding into you. your nails rake down his abdomen, leaving little lines of red in their wake.

he can’t get enough of the way you fold around him, and it finally crosses his mind that there’s nothing protecting you.

“condom.” chris grits through his teeth, not slowing his momentum despite what he just said.

“buy me a plan b after, need you raw.” you reply quickly, voice pinched as your chest heaves.

you’ve never been careless like this, and it definitely won’t happen again. but right now, having nothing standing between the two of you is all you’re craving. he’s relishing it, truly being skin to skin.

his hands travel to clutch the curve of your ass, helping slam you down so he can hit the right spot, and even now it’s still not close enough. he adores you too much; it’ll never be enough, because he’s always going to want more.

he’s gasping at this point, trying to keep his eyes open just so he can watch you in all your glory. it’s dim in his room and you’re perfectly backlit, tits bouncing as your hair flits around your face.

you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

every stroke feels better than the last, and your stomach flips each time he drives himself into that sensitive area. you’re clenching hard now, tugging on his cock rhythmically to the point where he’s twitching inside.

“oh-h my god, fuckin love you. my pretty girl.” chris groans, addicted to the excitement of saying it out loud.

that familiar fire burns in your gut, somehow more fierce than the first. you’re tensing again, trying not to get too careless with your pace as your whimpers grow in intensity.

“m’close—i can’t…” you stutter, brain jumbled with incoherent thoughts.

he props his own legs up slightly, using the last bit of his strength to buck into you. he draws out every last second, because he’d live right here forever if he could.

“give it to me, princess, don’t hold back.” chris prompts breathlessly, his vision blurring as his climax rapidly approaches.

your hips connect sloppily a few more times and it crashes over the both of you at once. the room echos with pants and moans of gratification, a thin layer of sweat painting your skin as you come down from your second orgasm of the night.

you feel him release too, painting your walls in a divine warmth that you’re not used to. you’re so strung out that even the tiniest bits of friction you’re still receiving have you gnawing on the inside of your cheek to control yourself.

finally both of your movements slow to a stop, letting the moment settle for a moment as you catch your breath.

you’re closer that you were before, practically chest to chest with him aside from your hands, so you tilt your forehead to his and give him a gentle peck.

“i’m obsessed.” he mumbles against your mouth before you pull away.

you smile, slowly shifting off of him so you can force yourself into the crook of his arm instead. “you’re just figuring that out now?”

“i always knew, trust me.” chris banters, wrapping his bicep around you to pull you tighter against his side.

you sigh as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “so this is real? we’re actually together?”

“if you’ll have me, but i’m yours either way.”

he’s so open, so quick to admit how he actually feels, and it’s everything you’ve been waiting for.

“good, because i’m kind of in love with you and i’ve never been a sharer.”

he chuckles at this, and it already feels so natural. everything has fallen into place, and you're just glad you’re not wasting any more time not experiencing this.

“but you’re not fully forgiven until you buy me that plan b, seriously.” you poke his side playfully and this time you both laugh.

“i think i can make that happen.” chris responds sarcastically, unable to fight the permanent smile that seems to be taking over his features.

every part of him is so content, and it’s the most alive he’s ever been. you bring him to life.

he’s not sure he’ll ever understand how he got lucky enough to fight his way back into your world, but he’ll never take it for granted.

it’s always been you, the bewitching girl next door.

@fawnchives @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @impureals @chrisactualwife @fikefries @riasturns @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18 @realqueenofpepsi @snowysosturn @secretfangirly @x0x0bunny @amelia-sturniolo3 @pvssychicken

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theonlyonesora · 23 days ago

Text

The Third Rule

Lily x Oscar Piastri x You (Reader)

Chapter 11 - The Goodbye Before the Truth

Oscar's last day had arrived, and despite everything, it almost felt normal.

You had told yourself — promised, actually — that once he left, you’d talk to Lily. That the moment his bags were packed and his car was pulling out of the driveway, you’d sit her down and tell her everything. Not just about Vegas. Not just about the late nights and quiet stares. About the fact that your heart had started doing something deeply inconvenient — choosing him. And that it scared you. Because you weren’t supposed to fall for your best friend’s boyfriend.

But for now, Oscar was still here. Still calm and sweet and maddeningly perceptive. Still brushing your hand a little too long when he passed the coffee, still looking at you when Lily wasn’t watching. And you? You still let him.

To your relief, the day had been uneventful. The three of you had lunch at that little café on the corner that smelled like basil and rosemary. You’d laughed. Real laughter, the kind that didn’t feel guilty or forced. You all walked along the boulevard in the afternoon sun, ice cream melting down napkins, sunglasses pushed into hair, and shoulders brushing just enough to remember what happened… and what shouldn’t have.

At some point, Oscar leaned in and said quietly, “Thank you for today. It felt like how it used to be.”

You nodded and smiled — but inside, you weren’t sure what that meant. Used to be? When, exactly?

By evening, you were back at the apartment. Oscar had packed, Lily was on the couch scrolling through her phone, and you were in your room, pretending to read but really just thinking. You kept repeating the same line in your head like a mantra:

Once he’s gone, you’ll talk to her.

And maybe it would hurt. Maybe Lily would cry. Maybe she would never look at you the same way again. But maybe she deserved the truth. And maybe you deserved peace.

Lily was in the shower, humming softly behind a closed door. She always sang when she was happy. That made it worse.

Oscar’s flight was in a few hours. You told yourself that once he left, everything would go back to normal. You’d talk to Lily. You’d find the right words. You’d explain that this wasn’t who you were. That none of this had ever really felt like yours to begin with.

You were in the kitchen, carefully pouring hot water over the tea leaves, focusing on the steam curling up from the mug. The quiet footsteps behind you didn’t startle you—you already knew who it was.

His arms slipped around your waist like they had done too many times before. Familiar, warm. A weight you didn’t want to carry anymore.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Oscar murmured against your neck, voice low and certain like he already knew the effect it had on you.

You shut your eyes, your grip tightening on the edge of the counter. “Oscar…”

“It’s fine,” he said before you could say the rest. “We talked about it. Lily doesn’t mind, you know that.”

“Still…” you whispered. “She’s right there.”

“So are we,” he said. His hands moved down your sides, slow, like he was trying to remind you of something your body already remembered. “Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”

And that’s when you knew.

This wasn’t just about Lily anymore. This wasn’t about the three of you figuring out how to love one another equally or navigating some chaotic new definition of relationship. This was about him. And you.

It had shifted somewhere along the way—and you weren’t ready for what that meant.

When he kissed you, you didn’t push him away.

But you also didn’t kiss him back.

Your hands stayed on the counter. Your eyes stayed closed. You let him pretend everything was okay. That you were still part of this strange, shared story.

Just one last time, you told yourself.

Even though you knew the moment he left, nothing would feel the same.

His hand slipped under your skirt, fingertips trailing up the back of your thigh with infuriating ease, like he knew every part of you that would give in first. You froze, eyes locked on the steam still rising from the mug. The air felt too warm, too heavy, like your body couldn’t quite remember how to say no even if your mind was screaming it.

“Oscar…” you said again, breath catching somewhere between protest and plea.

He kissed your shoulder, then your neck—slow, deliberate, like he was giving you every chance to pull away and knowing you wouldn’t. His other hand moved to lift your skirt, and you didn’t stop him. You couldn’t.

The world outside narrowed to the soft rhythm of Lily’s shower in the background, the sound of your breathing, and the quiet rasp of his voice at your ear.

“Tell me this isn’t what you want,” he said.

But you didn’t.

You just braced yourself on the counter as he pressed against you—familiar, dangerous, inevitable. You bit your lip to keep from making a sound when the space between you disappeared completely. His hands steadied you, your breath quickened, and the kitchen—the entire moment—faded into something far too intimate to name.

You kept telling yourself it was the last time. That once he walked out that door tonight, this version of you would leave with him.

But a part of you already knew the truth: Something about this would always stay behind.

Oscar knocked on your door once, soft and polite. You turned, surprised he hadn’t just gone to say goodbye.

“I’m heading out,” he said, eyes lingering in that way they always did now. “Wanted to say bye.”

You stood, heart somewhere between your throat and your knees. You smiled and walked over, opening your arms to hug him like friends do. Like friends only do.

But when his arms wrapped around you, they lingered. And for one unbearable second, you felt his lips brush your temple.

“I’ll see you,” he murmured.

You nodded, silent.

And when the door closed behind him… you felt everything and nothing all at once.

Now it was just you and Lily. And no more excuses.

It was late when you knocked on Lily’s bedroom door.

She was curled up on her bed, scrolling on her phone, hair still damp from her shower. The quiet hum of the city outside filtered through the window, and for a moment, you almost turned back.

But she looked up with a tired, knowing smile. “Hey. Everything okay?”

You nodded, then shook your head. “Can I sit?”

She shifted to make room. You sat beside her, hands fidgeting in your lap, and for a moment neither of you said anything.

“I wanted to talk about… everything,” you finally began, eyes fixed on the wall. “Vegas. The time we’ve spent together. You and Oscar.”

Lily’s face softened, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I liked it,” you admitted. “It was fun, and new, and for a while, I think I needed that. But it’s not… it’s not something I can keep doing.”

You glanced at her, relieved to see she was just listening. “I’m not ready for that kind of relationship. I don’t think I ever will be. And I don’t want to keep dragging something out that could end up hurting you. You mean too much to me.”

Lily looked down, nodding slowly. “Thank you for being honest,” she said. “I know it wasn’t easy.”

“I just want us to go back to being friends,” you added softly. “I miss that. I miss you, not… all the confusion.”

She let out a breath and leaned her head on your shoulder.

“I’ll talk to Oscar,” she murmured. “If this is how you feel, then we let it go. No drama, no hard feelings. Just… us.”

A tight knot in your chest eased at her words, and you wrapped your arms around her in a quiet hug. She held you back, warm and reassuring.

Maybe things wouldn’t be exactly like they were before—but for the first time in weeks, you felt like they could be okay again.

Tag List:

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mcrdvcks · 2 months ago

Text

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ girl i've always been

chapter summary: While having a relaxing, lazy morning, there is an attack on New York City being broadcast, with some familiar and unfamiliar faces.

word count: 8.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: as i said before with peter, i'm a mcu fan at heart, and i wanted to try and bring in the avengers into the x-men (plus i have an idea for a little side storyline. it'll make sense once you read!)

also, thank you for 1,500 followers! and happy easter (if you celebrate)!

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, snow fight, slight angst, the battle of new york, the avengers, protective!logan

series masterlist - chapter 11 → chapter 13

“Please?” Theresa drawled, her tiny hands clasped together, the mittens looking particularly oversized on her.

“It’s freezing, Tess.” You replied, looking out the window to the snow covered grounds.

“But Scott and Jean are coming outside too!” Theresa added.

Jones nodded, “yeah, and so is Ororo, and Rogue, Bobby, Jub—”

“Summers, huh?” Logan questioned, his arms over his chest. He turned to look at you, “whaddya say sweetheart?”

You crossed your arms, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You only want to do this because Scott is going outside to have a snowball fight with the kids, and you don’t want to look like a wimp.”

Logan scoffed, his mouth pulling into a half-grin. “Sweetheart, I ain’t worried about Summers. Kid’s got an arm like a wet noodle.”

Theresa gasped dramatically, her mittens flying to her face. “Mr. Logan, that’s not nice! Mr. Summers is teaching me how to pitch!”

“Yeah?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “How’s that workin’ out for ya?”

Theresa frowned, scrunching her nose. “I hit Bobby in the face once.”

Jones laughed. “You hit Bobby like, three times.”

“That’s ‘cause Bobby’s head’s too big to miss.” Logan quipped, earning giggles from the kids. He turned back to you, his expression softening. “What do you think? Wanna show these kids how it’s done?”

You sighed, glancing back at the window. Snow swirled outside, the grounds blanketed in white. The wind rattled the glass, making you instinctively pull your cardigan tighter. “It’s freezing out there, Logan. I’m not built for this kind of weather.”

“You sure about that? Thought you were tough,” Logan teased, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “What’s a little snow gonna do to you, darlin’?”

You narrowed your eyes, feeling the familiar rush of playful irritation. “Fine. But if I get frostbite, you’re the one explaining it to Jean.”

Logan grinned, looking far too smug for your liking. “Deal.”

---

Outside, the cold hit immediately. You tugged your scarf up over your nose, trying not to shiver as you followed Logan toward the group of students. Snow crunched underfoot, the air filled with excited chatter as Scott and Jean stood off to the side, orchestrating teams.

“Alright, everyone!” Scott called out, clapping his hands. “We’re splitting into two teams. Jean and I will be captains—”

“Hold up,” Logan interrupted, his voice cutting through the noise. “What about me?”

Scott turned, his expression equal parts surprised and amused. “You? You’re joining?”

Logan shrugged, slipping off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby bench. “Someone’s gotta show these kids how to win.”

Jean rolled her eyes with a good-natured smile. “Logan, this is supposed to be fun, not a war.”

“Fun’s overrated,” Logan replied, cracking his knuckles.

You groaned, adjusting your glasses. “He’s going to take this way too seriously.”

Jean leaned closer to you, her breath visible in the freezing air. “He’s just trying to impress you.”

“By pelting kids with snowballs?”

“Exactly.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s voice boomed again. “Alright, Y/N’s on my team.”

“What?” you sputtered, looking at him incredulously. “I didn’t agree to this!”

“Too late,” Logan said, already rounding up a small group of eager-looking students. “You’re with me, sweetheart.”

Scott smirked, leaning toward Jean. “This should be good.”

---

The game quickly devolved into chaos. Logan, true to form, treated the snowball fight like a military operation. He barked orders to the kids on his team, pointing out strategic positions and even building a makeshift snow fort. You hung back, dodging the occasional snowball and trying not to laugh at how seriously he was taking it.

“Y/N, cover the flank!” Logan shouted, ducking behind a tree as a snowball whizzed past his head.

“You know this isn’t an actual battle, right?” you called back, crouching behind the fort.

“Tell that to Summers!” Logan growled, launching a perfectly aimed snowball that hit Scott square in the chest.

Scott stumbled back, brushing snow off his jacket. “Really, Logan? You’re aiming for me now?”

“Always, bub.”

Jean sighed dramatically. “Men.”

The kids, meanwhile, were having the time of their lives. Theresa and Jones worked together to build an impressive stockpile of snowballs, while Bobby used his powers to create perfectly round projectiles. Rogue ducked and weaved through the chaos, laughing as she nailed Logan in the shoulder with a particularly icy snowball.

“You’re lucky I like you, kid,” Logan muttered, brushing snow off his flannel.

Meanwhile, you stayed hidden behind the fort, because a few years ago when a snowball fight happened, someone—Scott—accidentally hit you in the face. But the worst part wasn’t that, it was the fact that your glasses broke and you couldn’t see for the rest of the day.

You huddled behind the makeshift fort with Jubilee, pulling your scarf tighter as the wind bit at your cheeks. Jubilee rubbed her arms through her thick jacket, shivering beside you. “Why is this my life? I could be inside right now, drinking cocoa.”

You adjusted your glasses, peeking over the snow wall just as a snowball zipped past, missing you by inches. “I’m wondering the same thing. I didn’t sign up for this level of chaos.”

Jubilee groaned dramatically, flopping backward into the snow. “Who even decided this was a good idea? Oh wait, it was Scott. Of course.”

You smirked. “Blame Logan. He turned this into a military operation.”

“Speaking of...” Jubilee pointed to Logan, who was standing a few feet away, rallying your team of students like they were about to storm Normandy. His flannel was dusted with snow, and his eyes were locked on Scott like he was calculating his next move.

“Alright, kids!” Logan barked. ��Jones, cover the left. Theresa, keep Bobby busy. Y/N, stop hiding and provide backup.”

You threw up your hands. “I am backup! From back here!”

Logan turned and gave you a look—a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Sweetheart, what happened to teamwork?”

“Teamwork doesn’t involve me losing my glasses again,” you shot back. “I still have PTSD from last time.”

“I told you,” Logan replied, his smirk growing, “I’ll keep your glasses safe. Just stick with me.”

Jubilee snorted. “Oh sure, because he’s never broken anything in his life.”

“Hey,” Logan growled, pointing a finger at Jubilee, “don’t push it, kid.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. Logan’s unwavering confidence in this absurd snowball fight—and in dragging you into it—was annoyingly endearing. Before you could retort, a snowball hit the fort’s edge, sending bits of snow scattering onto your face.

“Y/N!” Theresa called, her red hair peeking over the fort as she ducked another projectile. “Bobby just took Rogue out! We have the advantage!”

You sighed, pushing yourself to your feet. “Alright, fine. But if anyone breaks my glasses, there’s going to be trouble.”

Logan’s grin widened as he lobbed another snowball, hitting Scott in the shoulder. “There’s my girl. Come on, darlin’, time to show Summers how it’s done.”

You stepped around the fort cautiously, scooping up some snow and packing it into a firm ball. Jubilee muttered behind you, “This is going to end in tears.”

“Probably mine,” you replied dryly.

Across the snowy battlefield, Scott and Jean were crouched behind a smaller fort. Scott’s tactical stance and determined expression were straight out of a playbook, while Jean looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“Jean, cover me!” Scott shouted, throwing a snowball that missed Logan by several feet.

Jean shook her head, smiling. “Cover you from what? You’re not even aiming.”

“Hey!” Scott protested. “I hit Logan earlier!”

“Barely,” Logan said, his tone smug. “Summers, you couldn’t hit me if you were standing two feet away.”

Scott scowled. “Alright, that’s it—”

Before he could finish, you lobbed a snowball that smacked him square in the chest. The kids on your team erupted into cheers. Scott looked down at the snowy mark on his jacket, then up at you with mock betrayal.

“What—Y/N?” he called, shaking his head.

“Sorry, Scott,” you replied, biting back a grin. “Logan made me do it.”

Logan barked a laugh, tossing an arm around your shoulder briefly before returning to the battle. “She’s finally coming around to the winning side.”

Jean leaned out from her fort, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Don’t encourage him, Y/N.”

Logan called back, “Too late! She’s all mine now.”

You rolled your eyes but felt a warmth spreading through you despite the cold. For all his bravado and bluster, there was something undeniably comforting about Logan’s presence, even in the midst of a ridiculous snowball war.

“Don’t get cocky,” you muttered, brushing snow off your sleeves.

“I’m not cocky,” Logan said, throwing another perfectly aimed snowball that hit Scott in the arm. “I’m just good.”

Jubilee groaned loudly from behind you. “Can we end this already? My fingers are icicles!”

“Not until Summers surrenders!” Logan declared, ducking another snowball and tossing one back with perfect precision.

Jean laughed, raising her hands. “Okay, truce! Before someone loses a limb or, worse, their dignity.”

Scott lowered his arm reluctantly. “Fine. Truce.”

Logan smirked, straightening up and brushing snow off his hands. “Guess we know who the real champ is.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Scott muttered.

As the snowball fight dissolved, you found yourself walking back toward the mansion with Logan at your side. He glanced down at you, his expression softer now. “Not bad out there, darlin’. You might just be my secret weapon.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “Next time, I’m staying inside.”

“Sure you are,” Logan replied, his grin warm. “You can’t resist me.”

“You’re impossible,” you said, nudging him lightly.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice low and amused. “But you love me anyway.”

---

You hummed along to the catchy pop tune playing softly on the kitchen radio as you stirred the stir-fry. The savory aroma of chicken, steak, and colorful veggies filled the air, the sizzling sound adding a cozy rhythm to your evening.

Footsteps approached, deliberate and heavy, and a moment later, Logan appeared beside you. He held out a glass of red wine with a casual smirk, keeping the other for himself. “Figured you could use this.”

“Thanks,” you said, pausing long enough to take it from him. You raised an eyebrow as Logan leaned slightly over your shoulder, inspecting the pan. His face was far too serious for something as mundane as dinner.

“Yes,” you deadpanned, taking a sip of the wine, “I added steak. Just for you.”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Smart choice, sweetheart. Can’t go wrong with steak.”

You rolled your eyes and returned your focus to the pan, the warmth from the stove a welcome contrast to the winter air outside. As you adjusted the heat, Logan stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on your hips. His chest was warm against your back, and the soft pressure of his touch made you pause.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, your voice colored with amusement.

Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist and started to sway, his movements slow and unhurried. You blinked, trying to stifle a laugh. “Seriously?”

“You were hummin’, so I thought I’d join in,” he said, his deep voice low near your ear.

“I was humming to a pop song, not a ballad,” you replied, though you couldn’t quite bring yourself to pull away. His embrace was too warm, too grounding.

Logan tugged you gently, nudging you away from the stove. “C’mere.”

“Logan, the food—”

“It’ll be fine. Just a minute.”

The look in his eyes left little room for argument, so you allowed him to guide you a few steps away. The music from the radio filled the quiet as Logan pulled you close. His movements were uncharacteristically tender, his calloused hands resting lightly on your lower back as he led you in what could only loosely be described as a slow dance.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You know this is a pop song, right? This doesn’t really... fit.”

“I don’t care.” Logan’s lips twitched into a faint grin, but his eyes softened. “Music’s just noise. It’s the person you’re dancin’ with that matters.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, though you hid your face by tucking your head against his shoulder. His flannel smelled faintly of pine and something uniquely him, grounding you in a way few things could. The two of you swayed in place, ignoring the incongruous beat of the music and the simmering stir-fry just a few feet away.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you murmured, “You’re in a rare mood.”

“Yeah, maybe I am,” Logan said, his tone softer than usual. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “’S nice, just... bein’ here with you.”

You didn’t respond right away, letting his words settle in your chest. For all of Logan’s gruffness and his habit of turning everything into a challenge, these rare, quiet moments reminded you of how fiercely he loved. How fiercely he loved you.

Nice didn’t seem like the right word for it. It was everything.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you teased, your voice quieter now.

Logan chuckled, his breath warm against your temple. “Nah. I’m lucky you love me.”

The crackling sound of the stir-fry snapped you back to reality, and you gave him a gentle nudge. “Okay, dinner’s about to burn. Let me go.”

Logan tightened his arms briefly, a teasing glint in his eye. “One more second.”

“Logan.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he loosened his hold, letting you step back toward the stove. You stirred the pan quickly, relieved that nothing had scorched. Logan leaned against the counter, watching you with a lazy grin, his wineglass dangling from his fingers.

“You’re impossible,” you said, glancing over at him.

“Yeah,” Logan agreed easily. “But you love me anyway.”

You shot him a look but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. In the background, the radio shifted to another upbeat track, the music filling the small kitchen like a promise of more moments like this. Moments where time felt like it belonged solely to the two of you.

---

Sleeping in was rare, even on the weekends. But today, as the noon sun poured through the curtains, bathing the room in soft light, you both indulged in the rare luxury. The warmth of Logan’s body beside you and the quiet of the mansion made the bed feel like the only place that mattered.

You stretched lazily, your hand brushing Logan’s chest as he gave a low, contented grunt. “Finally awake?” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep.

“Mm, not yet,” you replied, burying your face against his shoulder. His scent—pine, leather, and something faintly metallic—wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment.

Logan chuckled softly, his hand slipping to the small of your back. “Y’know, most people are already up by now.”

“Most people don’t get woken up at 5 a.m. by the sound of kids trying to build a trampoline out of their powers,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt.

He smirked. “Fair enough.”

The room stayed quiet for a while, the two of you enjoying the stillness. Logan’s hand moved in slow circles along your back, a soothing motion that almost lulled you back to sleep.

“You’re a lot clingier today,” you teased, looking up at him.

“Guess I am,” Logan said with a shrug, his expression unreadable. “Don’t hear you complainin’, though.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away. “No. I’m not.”

A sharp knock at the door made you groan, breaking the moment. “It’s Jean!” came the muffled voice from the other side. “You two need to get to the common room right now.”

Logan frowned. “What’s the rush?”

“Just hurry! You’re going to want to see this,” Jean called back before her footsteps faded down the hall.

You sighed, reluctantly pushing yourself up. “Guess our lazy morning is over.”

“Always somethin’,” Logan muttered, rubbing a hand over his face before climbing out of bed.

You slid out as well, slipping on your glasses and grabbing your robe from the chair. Logan was already pulling on his flannel shirt and jeans, moving with his usual efficiency. Within minutes, the two of you were heading down the hall toward the common room.

The mansion was unusually quiet for midday, the muffled sound of a news broadcast growing louder as you approached the common room.

When you walked in, the screen immediately caught your attention. Footage of New York City filled the TV, with buildings crumbling and smoke rising into the sky. The words “Breaking News: Alien Invasion in Manhattan” scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

"What the hell?" Logan muttered, crossing his arms as he stared at the footage.

Jean turned to you both, her expression grim. "It started an hour ago. There’s some kind of portal above the city. They’re calling it an alien invasion."

Your heart sank as you watched the chaos unfold on the screen. Cars were overturned, people running for their lives as enormous, alien-looking creatures wreaked havoc.

The kids spoke quietly amongst themselves.

“Who’s that guy with the hammer?” Peter asked.

Jubilee leaned in, “I saw a Reddit thread sayin’ he was an alien.”

Logan let out a groan, rubbing a hand down his face as he stared at the chaotic footage on the television. "Now there are damn aliens? What’s next, giant lizards takin’ over the city?"

"Don’t jinx it," Jean muttered, arms crossed as she stood beside the couch, her gaze glued to the screen. "This is already bad enough."

Scott stood nearby, frowning deeply. "They’ve got a lot of tech. Look at the size of that portal. That’s not something we can just ignore."

"We’re not getting involved, Scott," Jean cut in sharply. Her tone was firm but calm, the way it always was when she knew she needed to be the voice of reason. "This isn’t our fight. We don’t even know what we’d be walking into."

"She’s right," Logan added, his voice gruff. He leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed. "Let the army or whoever deal with it. We’ve got enough on our plate without runnin’ into some other mess."

Bobby raised an eyebrow as he watched the screen. "That guy in the suit... isn’t that Tony Stark? The billionaire who’s always in the news?"

"Yeah," Peter said, squinting. "And isn’t that Captain America? Wait, I thought he was dead—or, like, frozen or something?"

"You mean that propaganda poster boy?" Logan’s voice had an edge, but there was something unspoken beneath it. His eyes lingered on the screen, his jaw tightening as the camera panned to a blond man throwing a shield with almost impossible precision.

Jean glanced over at Logan, her brow furrowed. "You know him?"

Logan gave a noncommittal shrug, his expression carefully neutral. "We fought together a long time ago. Doesn’t matter now."

You shifted your weight beside him, catching the way his knuckles whitened against his biceps. Gently, you placed a hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"

He looked down at you, his expression softening in that way only you seemed to bring out. "I’m fine. Just didn’t expect to see his face today, is all."

Scott cleared his throat, his arms crossed. "We still need to figure out what our stance is on this. If those things—whatever they are—start spreading beyond Manhattan, we’ll have to act."

Jean shook her head. "For now, we wait. The situation’s still unfolding, and we don’t even know what’s going on up there. Jumping in blind could make things worse."

Logan smirked faintly. "For once, I agree with Red."

Jean rolled her eyes at the nickname but didn’t argue.

The footage shifted to show the so called ‘alien’—a large man with a hammer, lightning crackling around him as he brought it down on a group of the alien creatures. Peter practically jumped up from his seat. "Okay, who is that guy? Thor? Like, the Norse god?"

Jubilee leaned forward, a grin spreading across her face. "Maybe he is! Did you see the lightning? That’s insane."

"Focus, guys," you said gently, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Their excitement was contagious, even if the situation was grim.

Logan’s hand found its way to your back, a subtle, grounding gesture. "Kids can get excited all they want, but we’re stayin’ out of it," he said firmly. "End of story."

Jean nodded in agreement. "Logan’s right. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves."

The room quieted, the group’s attention returning to the screen. Despite the chaos unfolding in New York, the decision had been made—for now, the X-Men would stand back. It wasn’t their fight, not yet. But the tension lingered, unspoken questions hanging in the air.

You leaned into Logan’s side, your hand brushing his as you watched the screen. His thumb grazed the back of your hand, a small gesture of reassurance. Whatever was happening out there, at least for now, you were together—and for Logan, that was enough.

---

The new book you got had you in a hold. You and Jean were reading the same book, which was a rarity since you both had different tastes. But Gone Girl was intriguing and had a way of pulling you in.

And since it was a Saturday, it was the perfect day to relax and read… and possibly finish the book in one day.

You sat down at the island as Logan made breakfast for the two of you. He placed your cup of tea in front of you, the steam curling upward like a warm invitation. “It’s hot. Don’t burn yourself,” he warned with a pointed look, then turned back to the stove where a skillet sizzled with eggs and bacon.

“Thanks,” you murmured distractedly, already nose-deep in the novel you’d cracked open just moments before. You adjusted your glasses, the light from the nearby window perfectly illuminating the pages.

Logan glanced over his shoulder as he flipped the bacon, catching sight of you. “That book got somethin’ I don’t? You didn’t even notice me makin’ you tea, sweetheart.”

“Hmm?” you mumbled, vaguely aware he was talking but too caught up in the tangled mess of secrets the characters in Gone Girl were unraveling.

Logan huffed softly, half amused and half annoyed. “Never thought I’d lose to a damn book,” he muttered under his breath. His tone was light, but he watched you carefully as he slid the food onto plates.

“Eggs okay? Or do ya want somethin’ fancier, like toast?” He set your plate in front of you.

“Mmhmm,” you replied absently, still buried in the text.

Logan’s brows shot up. He leaned forward slightly, his hands braced on the counter as he smirked. “Right. Guess ‘mmhmm’ means ‘chef’s choice,’ huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you said without looking up.

Logan straightened with an exaggerated sigh and dug into his own breakfast, watching as you ate your eggs without once lifting your eyes from the book. He shook his head, almost impressed by how oblivious you were to his efforts.

---

By mid-afternoon, Logan’s patience was wearing thin. After breakfast, you’d curled up on the couch, the book balanced on your knees as you fell even deeper into its story. He’d tried everything—talking about the updates he was making to his motorcycle, asking you random questions, even joking about how the least you could do was come hold a wrench for him. Your responses were minimal at best, a distracted hum or soft “uh-huh” here and there.

Logan stood in the doorway of the living room now, hands on his hips. “So, is this what it feels like?”

“Hm?” you replied without looking up.

“When I’m tuned out ‘cause you’re ramblin’ about Schrödinger’s whatever or that theory… the one with all the dimensions.”

“String theory,” you corrected automatically, flipping a page.

He snorted. “Yeah, that one. Pretty much what I sound like when you’re talkin’, huh?”

“Mm,” you replied, not even registering the teasing lilt in his tone.

Logan turned and trudged into the hallway, muttering under his breath. “Unbelievable. Even Scott’d get more of a reaction.”

As if on cue, Scott appeared at the other end of the hall, looking just as annoyed as Logan felt. “You too?” he asked.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

Scott gestured vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. “Jean. She’s been stuck in that book all day. I asked her about a briefing—nothing. Asked if she’d seen Rogue—‘hmm.’ She’s completely tuned me out.”

Logan barked a laugh. “Let me guess. Gone Girl?”

Scott stared at him for a beat. “Yeah.”

Logan shook his head knowingly. “Figures. Guess that makes me one of the gone guys.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Glad someone’s having fun.”

---

Evening rolled around, and you were finally nearing the end of the book. The story’s climax was in sight, and you barely noticed the room dimming with the setting sun. You were perched on the bed now, your back propped up against a mountain of pillows.

Logan stood in the doorway, arms folded, watching you. He had to admit, it was kind of cute how engrossed you were. But after being ignored all day? Cute wasn’t enough to save you.

With a smirk tugging at his lips, Logan walked over, reached out, and plucked the book straight out of your hands.

“Hey!” you yelped, sitting up and reaching for it. “What are you doing?!”

He stepped back, holding the book up over his head. “You were ignorin’ me,” he said simply.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” you argued, scooting to the edge of the bed as if you could reach it.

“Yeah, you were,” Logan replied, his tone teasing. “All damn day, sweetheart. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Your eyes narrowed as you pushed your glasses higher on your nose. “Logan, give it back.”

“Not until you gimme a kiss,” he countered with a grin.

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, holding the book out of your reach. “One kiss, and you get your book back.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” His smirk widened.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “This is ridiculous.”

“Then I guess you don’t need the book back.” Logan made a show of flipping through the pages as if he was about to start reading it himself.

“Alright, alright!” You got up on your knees, leaning toward him. “But just one.”

Logan lowered the book slightly, clearly pleased with himself. “One’s all I need, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned forward, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips. Logan’s grin widened against your mouth, and before you could pull away, his hand came up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss just enough to make you forget your irritation.

When he finally let you go, his eyes were full of mischief. “There. Was that so hard?”

You snatched the book from his hand, your cheeks warm. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed with a smirk. “But you love me anyway.”

---

After an exhausting day of classes and too much loud chattering from the students, all you wanted was to curl up next to Logan and watch whatever would make him happy. Even if it was one of those old westerns again.

You got to the bedroom and dropped your satchel onto the floor. Logan was already in the room, his hair partly wet from his shower and a towel over his bare shoulder.

“Rough day?” He asked.

“Would’ve been easier if I didn’t wear these shoes,” you grumbled.

Logan sighed and kneeled down in front of you, holding one leg with one hand and easily slipping off your heel before doing the same with the other. His rough hands brushed lightly against your ankle, sending a small shiver up your spine.

"You’re gonna end up with blisters wearin’ shoes like that all day," he muttered, glancing up at you with a mix of annoyance and concern.

“I didn’t think I was gonna be on my feet that much. I had to teach Scott’s class because he was busy doing something with the Professor.”

Logan ran a hand through his damp hair, tossing the towel onto a nearby chair. “Scott owes you big for takin’ his class,” he muttered, his gaze softening as he kneeled and pressed his thumb gently along the curve of your arch.

You sighed, melting a bit under his careful touch. “I didn’t mind. It just wasn’t exactly in my plans today.”

“Bet he didn’t even tell ya why, did he?” Logan asked, his lips curving into a knowing smirk.

You shook your head, leaning back slightly as he switched to your other foot. “Nope. Just said he and the Professor were busy. Typical Scott.”

“Figures,” Logan muttered, standing up and reaching for his beater. He slipped it on, the fabric clinging to him in a way that always distracted you for a moment longer than it should have. “How’s that feel now?”

“Better,” you admitted with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Least I can do.”

You were about to flop onto the bed to finally relax, maybe even convince Logan to watch something other than The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, when a sharp knock sounded at the door. Before either of you could respond, Jean’s voice came through.

“Logan? Y/N? Charles needs us in the briefing room. Now.”

Logan groaned, his head falling back. “Of course. Can’t get a damn minute of peace around here.”

You pushed yourself off the bed, but the moment your bare feet hit the floor, a sharp sting shot up your heels. You winced, grabbing onto the edge of the bed for balance.

Logan noticed immediately. “What’d I just say about those shoes, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone part exasperation, part concern. Without waiting for a response, he stepped closer, his hands already reaching for you.

“I can walk,” you protested as he scooped you up effortlessly, arms cradling you against his chest. “And what if we get there and I need shoes?” you added, trying to inject some logic into the situation.

Logan huffed a laugh, glancing down at you as he carried you toward the door. “Guess you’ll just have to sit pretty and let me handle it.”

Jean was waiting in the hallway, a knowing smirk on her face as she saw Logan carrying you. “You’re really leaning into the knight-in-shining-armor thing, huh?”

“Don’t start, Jeannie,” Logan shot back, his tone light but his grip on you firm.

Ororo and Hank joined the group as you made your way down the hall, both raising eyebrows at the sight of Logan carrying you.

“Rough day, Y/N?” Ororo teased gently.

“You could say that,” you replied with a sheepish smile.

When you finally reached the briefing room, Logan set you down gently in a chair, crouching briefly to make sure you were comfortable. His large hand lingered on your knee as if to reassure himself you were okay.

You barely noticed because the moment your gaze lifted, your breath caught. Standing near Charles and Scott was a group of people you immediately recognized from news reports and scientific journals. One in particular had your jaw dropping.

“It’s Bruce Banner,” you whispered, eyes wide as you leaned closer to Logan. “Logan. That’s Bruce Banner.”

Logan glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “The science guy?”

“Yes, the science guy,” you whispered back, trying not to stare too obviously. “This is incredible.”

Logan’s lips twitched, but his response was cut off by Charles clearing his throat. “Thank you all for coming. As you may have noticed, we have some new faces here today.”

Scott, standing rigid at Charles’s side, didn’t look thrilled, but his posture screamed professionalism. Beside him, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Thor, and Steve Rogers stood with varying degrees of curiosity and skepticism.

But it was Steve who caught your attention next. His gaze swept the room until it landed on Logan—and then, surprisingly, on you. His expression flickered, something like recognition flashing across his face before it was gone. You frowned, unsure of what you’d just seen, but the moment passed as Charles continued.

“Allow me to introduce the Avengers.”

You reached for Logan’s hand under the table, your thumb gently tracing patterns over his knuckles and palm. His hand tightened slightly around yours, a subtle reassurance as you sat in the presence of these strangers.

“The Avengers? Whatta stupid name,” Logan muttered, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You shot him a look, lips twitching despite yourself. “Logan.”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just sayin’.”

Charles continued speaking, his calm, authoritative voice attempting to bridge the gap between the X-Men and their unexpected visitors. “Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. reached out to us following the incident in New York City. He felt it prudent that we meet, given the shared nature of our goals.”

Scott, standing near the Professor, looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. His arms were crossed tightly, and his jaw was set in a way that screamed I don’t trust this.

Thor, meanwhile, was visibly intrigued, his gaze sweeping across the room with curiosity. “So these are the famed X-Men,” he remarked, his deep voice filling the space. “It is a pleasure to meet warriors of such renown.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened, and you glanced at him. He wasn’t looking at Thor; his eyes were locked on Steve Rogers, who was staring back at him with a mix of recognition and surprise.

“Logan,” Steve said, stepping forward slightly. His voice was steady, but there was a faint undercurrent of disbelief. “It’s been… a long time.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “It has.”

The tension was thick, but you couldn’t help noticing the flicker of something else in Steve’s face—something that shifted when his gaze slid to you. His expression softened, and for the briefest moment, he looked like he was about to say something. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual calm demeanor.

Tony Stark, leaning casually against the wall, jumped in. “Wait, wait. You’re telling me you two go way back to World War II? How old are you people?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Older than you, bub. That’s all you need to know.”

Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. “Noted.”

Jean, seated beside you, leaned in closer. “You okay?” she whispered, sensing the tension in the room.

You nodded, though your mind was racing. You weren’t entirely sure what was happening between Logan and Steve, but it wasn’t just the history between them that had you unsettled.

Charles, ever the mediator, broke through the undercurrent of tension. “I believe it would be beneficial for all of us to share information and find common ground. We face threats that may one day require collaboration.”

“Agreed,” Natasha said, her voice calm but firm. “If we’re going to work together, we need to understand each other’s capabilities.”

Logan scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Capabilities, huh? You wanna see what we can do?”

“Logan,” you murmured again, placing a hand on his arm. He glanced at you, the edges of his frustration softening slightly.

Bruce, who had been quiet until now, cleared his throat. “I think what Natasha means is that if we’re going to trust each other, we need transparency. We’re not here to fight anyone.”

“Yet,” Logan muttered under his breath.

You sighed, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Honey.”

Thor chuckled, clearly amused by the dynamic between you and Logan. “Your companion has spirit,” he said, addressing Logan directly.

“She’s got more than spirit,” Logan replied, his tone softer now as he glanced at you.

The meeting continued, with Charles and Nick Fury leading the discussion while the rest of you listened. You couldn’t shake the feeling that Steve’s gaze kept drifting toward you, but you didn’t dare look back.

When the meeting finally adjourned, the room began to clear. Steve lingered, his eyes finding Logan once again.

“Logan,” he said quietly, his tone deliberate.

“Cap.” Logan’s response was curt, but his grip on your hand tightened.

Steve hesitated, his gaze flickering to you. “It’s… good to see you again.”

You blinked, startled. “Me?”

Logan’s jaw clenched, and he stood abruptly, pulling you gently to your feet. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

You barely had time to process what had just happened as Logan led you out of the room, his pace brisk, your feet slightly stinging. It wasn’t until you were back in the privacy of your shared room that you managed to catch your breath.

“Logan, what was that about?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing you need to worry about, darlin’.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Logan—”

“Not now,” he said, his tone soft but firm. He pulled you into his arms, his grip almost possessive. “I just… needed to get you outta there.”

You rested your head against his chest, your mind still spinning. You knew that whatever it was, Logan didn’t want to talk about it, but there were too many questions now rattling inside your head.

“What did he mean again?” You said, your voice muffled against his chest, “do you think he meant… one of my past lives?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. His arms around you were solid, grounding, but his grip tightened just enough for you to notice. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said finally, his voice low and gravelly. “Could be. Could just be Cap bein’ Cap. He’s always got that boy scout thing goin’ on.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, your brow furrowed. “Logan, don’t brush this off. He looked like he knew me. Not just ‘oh, you remind me of someone’—he knew me.”

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he stared down at you. “I told you about 1943,” he said after a moment. “You were a nurse. I met you right before I shipped out for Operation Husky. We didn’t get much time together—just a week—but maybe he remembers you from back then. I don’t know how else he’d know you.”

You bit your lip, trying to piece it together. “He said ‘it’s good to see you again.’ Not ‘it’s good to meet you’ or even ‘you look familiar.’ That’s… specific, Logan.”

“I know,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just—I don’t like it. Him lookin’ at you like that. Like he’s got some kind of claim or somethin’.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Logan, are you jealous?”

His lips twitched in what might’ve been a smirk if he weren’t so serious. “No,” he said, but his tone betrayed him. “I just don’t trust him. Or any of ‘em, really.”

You sighed, resting your hands on his chest. “You know, you can admit it’s weird without growling at everyone in the room.”

“I wasn’t growling.”

“Logan.”

“…Fine. Maybe I was growling a little.” He finally cracked a small grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Look, darlin’, I don’t have all the answers. But I know this—whatever Cap thinks he knows about you, he doesn’t know you like I do.”

Your heart softened at that, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I know.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I told you everything I remember about the other lives. There ain’t much left to figure out, but… if Cap knows somethin’ we don’t, we’ll get to the bottom of it. Together.”

You nodded against his chest, but the unease lingering in your stomach didn’t go away. “Okay.”

For now, you let the subject drop, content to stay wrapped in Logan’s arms. But you couldn’t help wondering—what exactly did Steve Rogers know about you? And why did it feel like the past was about to catch up to you in a way you weren’t prepared for?

---

The next day you walked into your lab, ready to decompress a little even if it meant doing some complex calculus. You opened the doors to your lab and saw Scott and Hank leading Tony and Bruce Banner around your lab.

Bruce Banner—scientific icon, world-renowned mind.

You hesitated, gripping the strap of your bag tighter, already feeling your cheeks flush. Anxiety stirred low in your chest, as though stepping closer would somehow make you too exposed, too scrutinized by these larger-than-life personalities.

Scott noticed you first, turning toward the door. “Y/N,” he said, his voice even but softer than usual. He must’ve picked up on your hesitation because his gaze softened just slightly.

Hank glanced over as well, waving you forward like this was no big deal. “Good timing,” he said warmly. “Come meet our guests.”

Oh, no. No, no, no.

You swallowed hard and stepped forward, managing to avoid tripping over your feet—a miracle, really. Tony had already launched into a monologue about something, but as the new arrival caught his attention, his eyes landed on you.

“Well, what do we have here?” Tony said, cocking an eyebrow. “Another genius in the house? Don’t tell me Stark Industries has competition hiding out in a mansion.”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words tangled up and didn’t come.

Scott, likely sensing the rise of your internal panic, stepped closer, standing at your side. His hand brushed your shoulder, solid and reassuring, before it returned to his crossed-arm stance. “This is Dr. Y/N,” Scott said, his tone brisk but protective in that understated way of his. “She’s part of the team and handles all our physics work. You’ll want her opinion on anything advanced.”

You winced a little, feeling like Scott had just put a spotlight on you. “I, uh… Hi,” you managed, adjusting your glasses as you glanced at Bruce, trying not to think too much about how much smarter than you he probably was. “It’s nice to meet you.”

To your surprise, Bruce smiled—not in that awkward, condescending way you sometimes got, but a genuine, warm smile. “Nice to meet you, too, Doctor,” he said, his tone polite. “Hank mentioned your work. I’d love to see what you’re working on sometime.”

Your cheeks flamed. “Oh—um—yeah, sure. I mean, it’s not that interesting. Just… you know… physics.”

Tony snorted. “Oh, ‘just physics,’ she says. Humble, too. Let me guess: some casual light reading on quantum dynamics?”

You felt rooted to the spot, unsure of how to respond. Hank cleared his throat, stepping in smoothly. “Actually,” he said with an amused tone, “Y/N specializes in quantum field theory, but she’s been working on some breakthroughs in spatial-temporal fluctuations.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Spatial-temporal fluctuations? No kidding.”

Bruce adjusted his glasses. “That’s fascinating. I was actually reading a paper recently on the potential overlaps of that field with time-reversal symmetry.”

You blinked, your mind simultaneously thrilled and spinning. “That’s—well, that’s exactly what I’m looking into,” you said quickly before you could lose your nerve. “Though it’s still in early stages. Nothing like what you’ve done.”

Bruce tilted his head, interest flickering in his eyes. “Don’t sell yourself short. Maybe we can exchange notes later?”

“Oh,” you said, startled. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Tony gave a dramatic sigh, clapping his hands together. “Brilliant minds, bonding over impossible science. Warms my heart.” He glanced around the lab. “So, Specks, you’re not gonna, you know, shoot lasers outta your eyes, right? Or turn into… that.” Tony lazily gestured at Hank. “No offense.”

Hank let out a sigh, “none taken.”

You froze, unsure how to respond. The sudden shift in attention felt like a spotlight bearing down on you, and your cheeks warmed. Before you could stammer out an answer, Hank stepped in, his tone calm but firm.

“Y/N’s abilities are unique,” Hank said, resting a steady hand on your shoulder. It was a quiet gesture, but it helped ground you. “She can manipulate time. It’s not something she uses lightly.”

Bruce Banner tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “Time manipulation?” he asked, his voice gentle, more intrigued than intrusive. “That’s… incredible. I can only imagine the complexities.”

You adjusted your glasses, your hand fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “It’s, um… not as impressive as it sounds,” you said quietly, the words tumbling out before you could think them through. “It’s not like I can just—just rewind things or stop time completely. It’s more… nuanced. And honestly, I try not to use it if I don’t have to.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Not as impressive as it sounds? Manipulating time doesn’t exactly scream ‘humdrum.’ What, are you worried about messing up the space-time continuum or something?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your feet. “Something like that.”

Scott, who’d been quietly observing the exchange, stepped closer, his stance subtly protective. “Y/N’s powers are powerful, but she’s not reckless with them. It’s not exactly dinner table conversation.”

Bruce nodded in understanding. “I can appreciate that,” he said, his voice kind. “With abilities like that, caution is probably the smartest approach.”

Tony, however, wasn’t quite ready to drop it. “Still, that’s gotta be a lot of pressure,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “Knowing you’ve got all this power but not wanting to use it. I mean, if I could bend time, you’d better believe I’d—”

“That’s enough, Stark,” Scott cut in, his tone sharp enough to silence Tony. He shot you a quick glance, his expression softening. “You don’t have to explain anything you don’t want to.”

You offered Scott a small, grateful smile, but the unease lingering in your chest didn’t fully dissipate. Bruce, perhaps sensing your discomfort, shifted the focus of the conversation.

“Regardless,” Bruce said, his tone thoughtful, “it sounds like you have a deep understanding of your abilities. And paired with your work in physics… well, it’s clear you’re contributing something remarkable here.”

You felt your shoulders relax just a little at his words. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice still shy but sincere.

Tony clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move on. “Alright, enough about bending the fabric of reality. Let’s get back to the fun stuff—labs, gadgets, all that good stuff. Specks, you’re the quantum genius here. What’s the coolest thing you’ve built?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, um… I don’t really build things. I mostly focus on theoretical models and equations.”

Tony feigned a look of disappointment. “No gadgets? No flashy inventions? What do you even do in here?”

Hank cleared his throat, fixing Tony with a look. “Y/N’s work is critical. Without her models, most of what we develop wouldn’t be possible. She’s the foundation.”

Bruce nodded in agreement. “Theory drives application,” he said. “And if you’re working on spatial-temporal fluctuations, you’re tackling some of the most challenging questions in physics. That’s impressive, no matter how you slice it.”

You bit your lip, feeling a small swell of pride despite your lingering nervousness. “Thanks,” you said quietly, your gaze flickering between Bruce and Hank.

Scott, always attuned to your emotions, gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re doing great,” he said under his breath, his voice so low only you could hear.

You shot him a grateful look, the tension in your chest easing just a little. As the conversation shifted back to lab equipment and theoretical possibilities, you let yourself take a small step back, content to observe for now.

---

You looked in the cupboard for your mug only to find nothing. You had even checked the dishwasher and sink, and it wasn’t in any of those spots.

Jean walked into the kitchen with a dramatic sigh, “I’m pretty sure that… guy—who I still can’t believe is actually Thor—crushed my thermos.”

You closed the cupboard door, “I think one of ‘em took my mug.”

The two of you heard footsteps outside the kitchen, watching Clint and Natasha walking with Ororo down the hall. Clint had your mug.

“Why are they still here?” You grumbled.

Jean let out a chuckle, “now your startin’ to sound like Logan.”

You scoffed lightly, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the counter. “I’m not that grumpy. Yet.”

Jean grinned and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of orange juice. “Give it time. You keep hanging out with him, and you’ll start growling at people too.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, adjusting your glasses. “Yeah, well, if Clint doesn’t give me back my mug, I might start sooner than expected.”

Jean poured herself a glass of juice, shaking her head in amusement. “You and that mug.”

“It’s my favorite mug!” you argued, throwing your hands up. “It’s the perfect size, the handle doesn’t get too hot, and it has the constellations on it. I’ve had it for years.”

“And now it’s Clint’s favorite mug,” Jean teased, sipping her juice.

Before you could retort, Logan walked into the kitchen. His boots thudded against the floor, and he gave a short nod to you and Jean. “Mornin’.”

Jean raised her glass in greeting, but you turned to Logan, still fuming. “Clint took my mug.”

Logan quirked an eyebrow, leaning against the doorway. “Want me to get it back?”

Jean snorted, clearly entertained. “What are you gonna do, Logan? Growl at him until he gives it up?”

Logan shot her a dry look. “Worked last time, didn’t it?”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. “It’s fine. I’ll get it later. Maybe.”

Logan’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his gruffness easing slightly. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said, brushing it off, though the thought of Clint sipping coffee from your mug still irked you. “Not worth starting a whole thing over.”

“Could be fun, though,” Logan muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Jean laughed and set her glass in the sink. “Well, this has been delightful, but I’ve got a Danger Room session to run. Try not to maim Clint over the mug, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises,” Logan said, earning a laugh from Jean as she left the kitchen.

Once it was just the two of you, Logan moved closer, grabbing a coffee mug from the cupboard—one of the generic ones everyone used. He glanced over at you as he poured his coffee. “You okay?”

You sighed, leaning back against the counter. “Yeah, just… tired, I guess. And maybe a little annoyed. It’s been a long week.”

Logan nodded, his expression thoughtful as he sipped his coffee. “Anything I can do?”

You smiled softly at the offer. Logan always had a knack for cutting through the noise and centering you without effort. “No, it’s fine. Thanks, though.”

Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, that familiar softness appearing in the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “Alright,” he said, his voice low. “But if Clint doesn’t give that mug back, you just say the word.”

You let out a small laugh, feeling the tension ease ever so slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two of you shared a brief moment of quiet, and then Logan took a step closer, his coffee steaming in his hands. “How’s the lab stuff goin’? That Banner guy giving you a hard time?”

You shook your head quickly, pushing your glasses further up your nose. “No, actually. He’s… nice. Really nice, actually.” You paused, then let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “It’s just overwhelming, you know? People like him—and Stark—they’re so brilliant, and I can’t help but feel like I don’t measure up.”

Logan grunted, taking a sip of his coffee before leaning one hip against the counter. “You’re worried about not measurin’ up to Stark?” He arched a brow. “That guy’s got enough ego to make up for every flaw he’s got. Don’t let him get in your head.”

You smiled faintly at Logan’s bluntness. “It’s not him. It’s… me. My own head is the problem.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp but kind. “Y/N, you’re probably the smartest person I’ve met—and I’ve met Banner and Stark. You need me to remind you again of the times you’ve bailed Hank out with your brain?”

The warmth in his tone brought a deeper flush to your cheeks, and you averted your gaze, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “That’s sweet of you to say, but—”

“But nothin’.” Logan’s voice was firm, though not unkind. “You know how many times you’ve pulled the X-Men out of a mess just by bein’ you? Hell, if it weren’t for you, none of us would even have the equipment that makes half the missions possible. You’re not just smart, darlin’; you’re vital.”

You blinked at him, warmth blooming in your chest at the way he looked at you—earnest, unwavering. “Thanks, Logan,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He tipped his head, his smirk more subdued now. “Anytime.”

this was 2012 (or the rest of it) and 2013!

and btw, 'girl i've always been' is underrated, it's one of my favorite's from guts spilled

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #the avengers #i love you in every time #i love you always and forever

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purplereina11 · 2 months ago

Text

You're a highly successful basketball player who has just been transferred to Barcelona's women's team. The number 11 holds deep personal significance for you. Among the spectators is none other than football superstar Alexia Putellas, synonymous with the number 11 in Barça history, watching from the sidelines.

What starts as mutual admiration quickly turns into something more, fuelled by weeks of playful yet intense online flirting. The chemistry between you and Alexia becomes undeniable.

I've really enjoyed writing and sharing this, thank you for all the love on this! ❤️

Hope you enjoy the chaotic last chapter!

The next morning, sunlight filters through your blinds, casting golden stripes across rumpled sheets. Your body aches pleasantly—a physical reminder of last night that makes heat rise to your face even in solitude. You reach for your phone, half-expecting a message from her, but there's nothing.

Just hundreds of notifications from social media.

"Shit," you mutter, sitting up too quickly.

You scroll through them with mounting dread. Photos of you and Alexia at Red are everywhere—nothing explicit, thank god, but the way you're looking at each other leaves little to the imagination. One shot captures you following her back from the Private VIP balcony, her hand brushing yours, both of you wearing expressions that scream post-hookup satisfaction.

Your team group chat has exploded:

Claudia: OMG HAVE YOU SEEN THESE

Claudia: You went out with Alexia?

Maya: I KNEW IT

Liv: Coach is gonna have an aneurysm

Marta: You better have details ready at practice or I'm throwing a ball at your face

You groan, burying your face in your pillow. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Whatever this was.

The training facility looms ahead, and you take a deep breath before pushing through the doors. You're early—deliberately so, hoping to slip into the locker room before the full squad arrives. But as you round the corner, you realize your plan has failed spectacularly.

They're all there. Every single one of your teammates, arranged in a semicircle like they've been waiting for you. Which, judging by their expressions, they absolutely have been.

"Well, well, well," Taylor drawls, leaning against her locker with exaggerated casualness. "Look who decided to grace us with her presence."

"I'm early," you point out, dropping your bag on the bench. "Practice doesn't start for twenty minutes."

"Oh, we're not talking about practice," Mia says, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "We're talking about your night with Barcelona's golden girl."

Heat creeps up your neck despite your best efforts to appear unfazed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

This is met with a chorus of disbelieving snorts and eye rolls.

"Save it," Jasmine says, tossing her phone your way. "You two are literally everywhere online. That club wasn't as discreet as you thought. Neither is that love bite on your neck”

You catch the phone, stomach dropping as you see the photo on screen. It's you and Alexia on the dance floor, your back pressed against her front, her lips dangerously close to your neck. The lighting is dim, but there's no mistaking either of you.

"Fuck," you mutter, handing the phone back.

The locker room erupts in laughter, a mix of cheers and mock scandalised gasps echoing off the walls. You groan, running a hand down your face. There’s no getting out of this.

"Oh, come on," Claudia says, flopping down beside you with an eager grin. "You have to give us details. Was she as intense as she is on the pitch?"

Maya leans forward, eyes glinting with mischief. "Or worse?"

You shake your head, grabbing your boots and focusing very intently on tying the laces. "You lot are unbelievable."

"Oh, we know," Marta says smugly. "But you love us. Now, tell us—who made the first move? We saw the photos of her all over you, but was that before or after you two snuck off to that private room?"

You freeze for half a second—just enough time for them to notice. The room erupts again. “YOU DID!" Liv practically yells, pointing an accusatory finger.

Maya claps her hands together, cackling. "Oh my god, please tell me you at least checked for cameras."

"There were no cameras," you mutter, shaking your head. "Thank god."

"So you did do something up there," Marta says, triumphant.

Your silence is damning.

"You are so done for," Claudia grins, nudging your shoulder. "You have to tell us—was it just a heated make-out, or should we be buying wedding gifts already?"

You groan again, tipping your head back in exasperation. "You lot are the worst."

Liv wiggles her eyebrows. "Not an answer."

You exhale, dragging a hand through your hair. They’re relentless, and you’re never getting out of this unless you give them something. "It was… intense," you admit, voice low. "Really fucking intense."

The room falls into stunned silence for all of three seconds before they collectively lose their minds again.

"Oh shit," Maya whispers dramatically. "She got you hooked."

"That bad, huh?" Marta teases, smirking.

You roll your eyes. "Shut up."

"Absolutely not," Liv laughs. "So what now? Are you two, like, a thing? Or are you just basking in the afterglow of the best night of your life?"

Your stomach twists at the question because, honestly? You don’t know. "Don’t look at me like that," you mutter. "I haven’t figured it out yet."

That earns you a chorus of oooohs, because of course it does.

"Sounds like someone’s smitten," Claudia teases, sing-song.

"Sounds like someone’s in trouble," Maya counters. And for the first time all morning, you don’t have a snappy comeback.

The laughter dies down for barely a second before Liv narrows her eyes, a devilish smirk creeping across her face. "Hold on. Let's back up. You say it was intense—but, like, how intense are we talking?"

Marta leans forward, intrigued. "Yeah, was it just, like, the heat of the moment kind of intense? Or the holy shit, I can't breathe, what the hell are we doing kind?"

Claudia wiggles her eyebrows. "Or was it the I need five to ten business days to recover kind?"

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "Why are you like this?"

"Because this is the best gossip we’ve had in ages," Maya says gleefully.

"Now spill—who started it?"

"I—" you start, but Liv cuts you off.

"Actually, dumb question. Of course it was her. No way you were bold enough to start that."

"Excuse me?" you scoff. "I can be bold."

"Uh-huh." Marta grins. "And yet, based on all the photos, she was all over you."

You try to fight the flush rising to your face, but it's useless. "It wasn’t exactly one-sided."

"Ohhhh," Claudia hums, exchanging looks with the others. "So you were all over her too?"

You run a hand over your face. "Maybe."

Liv gasps, clapping her hands. "Oh my god, you were!"

Maya fans herself dramatically. "Did you pin her against the wall? Tell me you pinned her against the wall."

"No," you say quickly, but they see right through you.

"That was too fast," Marta says smugly.

"You totally did," Claudia grins.

"Or she pinned you," Liv suggests, eyes lighting up.

You freeze again. And once again, they notice. The locker room explodes into chaos.

"NO WAY!" Maya shrieks.

"SHE PINNED YOU?" Liv nearly drops her phone.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, hiding your face as they erupt into cheers and laughter.

"That explains why you look wrecked today," Marta smirks.

"Okay, that’s enough," you say, trying to maintain some dignity. "We’re done with this conversation."

"Oh, we are so not done," Claudia says, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "We haven’t even gotten to the best part."

"And what would that be?" you ask warily.

Liv grins. "Did you stay the night?"

You hesitate.

Big mistake.

The locker room erupts all over again.

"We didn't need to go back to either of our places" you hinted that it was more than just a heated kiss and they lost it, the questioning coming at you like a machine gun now

Liv screeches, slapping Marta’s arm so hard it echoes through the locker room. "OH MY GOD!"

Claudia nearly falls off the bench. "WAIT, WAIT, WAIT. Where then? If you didn’t go back to her place or yours, where the hell did this happen?"

Maya's jaw drops, eyes going wide. "Oh my god. It was in the club, wasn’t it?”

Your silence is damning.

Marta gasps, pointing at you. "No. No way. Tell me you didn’t make out in the bathroom."

"No," you groan, rubbing your temples.

Claudia's eyes narrow as the pieces start falling into place. "Not at home, not the bathroom... but somewhere in the club…" She suddenly claps a hand over her mouth. "Oh my fucking god. The VIP balcony? Thats the door you were going through with her”

The locker room erupts.

"NO. NO WAY."

“IN VIEW?!”

"You mean to tell me," Liv pants between laughter, "you and Alexia were out there in plain sight?"

"Not plain sight—" you start, but Maya cuts you off.

"Oh my god, that’s why there are so many pictures of you two disappearing up there together!" She grabs her phone, scrolling frantically. "Everyone saw you following her. They just didn’t know what happened after."

Your face is burning. "I hate all of you." The locker room descends into absolute chaos. Marta is cackling, Maya has fully collapsed onto the bench, and Claudia is staring at you like you’ve just revealed you’re actually royalty.

"You animal," Liv wheezes.

Marta is in shambles, clutching her stomach. "Did people walk past?"

"I don’t know!" you groan. "It wasn’t like we were— I mean—it was just—"

"You can’t even finish a sentence!" Claudia howls. "Putellas actually broke you."

"Okay, but was it like… hands-on-the-wall kind of thing?" Liv teases. "Or was there a couch?"

You squeeze your eyes shut. "Why are you like this?"

"Because this is the best thing that has ever happened to us," Maya grins.

Marta fans herself. "The balcony, though. That is a power move."

Liv smirks, tossing her phone onto the bench. "I mean, damn. I knew Alexia had game, but I didn’t think she had public-balcony-at-an-exclusive-club game."

Maya howls. "Holy shit, no wonder you look like you barely survived a hurricane!"

Claudia snickers. "And here I thought you were all responsible and professional."

You shoot her a look. "I am responsible!"

"You made out with Spain’s captain on a private balcony where anyone could have seen if they got the right angle,” Liv reminds you. "Babe, that ship has sailed."

Your face betrays you before you can even think about stopping it. A flicker of something—guilt, panic, something—must cross your expression, because suddenly, the whole room goes silent.

"Wait."

Maya's eyes go wide. "Wait, wait, wait."

Claudia actually gasps, slapping a hand over her mouth like she just uncovered the world's greatest scandal.

Marta points at you, her jaw dropping. "No way."

Liv is the first to recover, leaning in with a wicked grin. "You didn't just make out, did you?"

You open your mouth to argue—deny, deflect, anything—but you hesitate for half a second too long.

Chaos.

"OH. MY. GOD!"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT WASN’T JUST A MAKE-OUT?"

"You absolute menace!"

Claudia clutches her chest like she’s having a heart attack. "ON THE BALCONY?!"

Marta is howling, actually having to sit down.

Claudia nearly slides off the bench. "Do you have any shame?!"

Marta is howling, banging her fist against the locker. "No, no, no. This is legendary behaviour."

Liv, barely able to contain herself, grips your arm. "You’re telling me— you two went up there, where anyone could have walked past, and got handsy?”

You groan, rubbing your hands down your face. "I am never telling you guys anything again."

Maya gasps dramatically. "Oh my god, did she—"

"STOP!" you interrupt, grabbing your training top and shoving it over your head. "I’m leaving. I don’t need this."

"You absolutely do," Liv calls after you. "Because the second this session is over, we’re gonna want to talk about it all over again."

Marta smirks. "And, we’re getting details.

Training is supposed to be your escape. A place where you can drown out the noise, focus on the game, and forget the absolute circus your teammates turned the morning into.

But apparently, the universe has other plans.

You’re midway through warm-ups when you hear it— "What the hell is that on your neck?"

You freeze. The ball you were absentmindedly passing back and forth with Maya clatters away as your head snaps toward the voice. Coach is standing there, hands on their hips, staring directly at you with narrowed eyes.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath.

There’s a moment of silence. Then, from somewhere behind you, Liv wheezes. Claudia physically turns away so her laugh is muffled in her sleeve. Marta isn’t even trying to hide it, hands on her knees as she cackles.

Your jaw clenches. "It’s nothing," you say quickly. "Just—uh, caught an elbow in a challenge yesterday."

Coach squints, stepping closer. "Really?"

You resist the urge to back away. "Yup. Happened so fast, didn’t even see who did it."

"Huh." They fold their arms, eyes flicking from your face to the mark on your neck. "Because it kinda looks like a—"

"IT WAS AN ELBOW," you blurt out, voice slightly too high.

Maya snorts.

Coach stares at you for a moment longer. Then, with a long sigh, she pinches the bridge of her nose. "I don’t even wanna know. Just don’t let it be a distraction."

You nod so fast your neck almost cracks. "Absolutely. 100%. No distractions here."

Coach walks away, muttering something under her breath. The second she’s out of earshot, your teammates lose it.

Liv practically collapses against you. "An elbow?" she howls. "That’s the best you could come up with?"

Marta wipes tears from her eyes. "Who knew Alexia Putellas had such sharp elbows, huh?"

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. "I hate all of you."

Maya grins. "No you don’t. But what we do hate is you keeping secrets. So, after training—"

"No."

"—you’re giving us details."

"Absolutely not."

Liv slings an arm around your shoulders. "Oh, babe," she says sweetly, "I wasn’t asking."

Training is brutal—not because the drills are particularly hard, but because your teammates won’t let up. Every time you so much as breathe near one of them, there’s a smirk, a whispered comment, or an exaggerated glance at your neck.

Marta jogs past you during a passing drill and mutters, "Hope Alexia stretched properly before last night. Wouldn’t want Spain’s captain pulling something."

Claudia bumps your shoulder in a small-sided game. "You sure you’re not sore? Sounds like a lot of touching on that balcony."

Even Maya, usually the least chaotic, raises an eyebrow as you line up for sprints. "Didn’t know you had a thing for exhibitionism," she muses. "Good to know."

By the time the session ends, you’re exhausted—and not just from the running. You make a beeline for the showers, hoping to escape before anyone can ambush you with more questions. You fail. Spectacularly. The second you step into the locker room, the door shuts behind you with a click, and suddenly, you’re cornered.

Marta flops onto the bench, stretching out like she owns the place. "Alright, princesa," she grins, "spill."

You groan. "I already told you—"

"You told us nothing," Liv interrupts. "Except that it wasn’t a back room. And your face said it was more than making out."

A chorus of ooohs follows. Your face burns. "I meant—"

"No, no," Claudia cuts in, wagging a finger. "You can’t backtrack now. You dropped that little bombshell, and we will be getting details."

Maya leans forward. "So, the VIP balcony, huh?" Her eyes gleam. "You know people could see you, right?"

You rub your hands over your face. "We were near the back of it, you couldn’t see.”

"No?" Marta smirks. "Because from what we’ve seen, you two weren’t exactly keeping things low-key any other time.”

You glare at her. "We weren’t thinking about that.”

"Mmm," Liv hums, "so what were you thinking about?"

You open your mouth—then shut it immediately when you realise there’s no safe way to answer that.

Marta howls. "Look at her! She’s thinking about it right now!"

You groan, head dropping back against the lockers. "I hate you all so much."

"No you don’t," Liv grins. "Now, be a good teammate and tell us everything.

"Was it against the wall?" Claudia demands.

"Or was there, like, a couch or—"

"Jesus Christ," you groan, throwing your head back. “We’re circling, Can you all chill?!”

"Absolutely not," Liv grins. "You know we have no other drama or gossip around here!”

Marta leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. "So…?"

The room goes silent, everyone hanging on your answer.

You exhale, dragging a hand down your face, but eventually… you can’t help the small smirk tugging at your lips. "It was…" You hesitate, then shake your head, biting back a very incriminating smile.

Another explosion of noise.

"OH MY GOD, IT WAS THAT GOOD?!"

"YOU’RE ACTUALLY BLUSHING."

"PUTELLAS BROKE HER, GUYS."

Maya pretends to wipe a tear. "They grow up so fast."

You exhale sharply, dragging your hands down your face before finally looking at them. "Fine. You want details? You got them."

They practically vibrate with anticipation, leaning in like a pack of gossip-starved wolves.

"The kissing," you start, your voice steady even as your stomach flips at the memory. "God, the kissing. She—" You shake your head, biting your lip. "She kisses like she plays. Intense. In control. Like she knows exactly what she’s doing and exactly what she wants."

Liv groans, clutching her chest dramatically. "I knew she’d be like that. Knew it."

Marta fans herself. "Continue."

You huff a laugh, running a hand through your hair. "It started slow. Teasing. She likes to make you wait for it, make you want it. But when she gives in? Fuck. She doesn’t hold back. One second, it was just this slow, heated build-up, and the next, it was—" You cut yourself off, shaking your head. "Messy. Breathless. The kind that makes your knees weak."

"And the touching?" Claudia presses, eyes wide. "You said there was touching."

You swallow hard, heat creeping up your neck, but there's no backing out now. "It was—" You search for the right words, but they all feel inadequate. "She’s got strong hands. You feel it when she touches you. When she grabs your waist, pulls you against her—"

Maya exhales sharply. "Shit."

"—And then her hands are everywhere, right?" Liv urges. "Like, everywhere?"

Your silence says enough.

Marta slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with delight. "No."

"Yes, her hands just moved that way and I didn’t stop her” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. "She—fuck, she knows what she’s doing. She knows how to pull you apart with just her hands. And we weren’t thinking about where we were, or who could see, or anything except—" You stop yourself, shaking your head, chest tight. "It was just—intense."

For a moment, there’s nothing but stunned silence.

"You got fingered on a VIP balcony," Liv finally breathes. "I am never letting you live this down."

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "We didn’t—"

"No, no," Marta waves you off. "That was implied."

Claudia shakes her head, grinning. "Jesus. I thought you were just sneaking around. I did not expect you to be feral."

"It wasn’t like—" You stop, realising you have absolutely no defence. "Okay, maybe a little."

Liv snickers. "You are so down bad, babe."

You don’t even argue. Because, honestly?

Yeah. You might be.

Your phone buzzes with a text. Not the group chat. Not social media.

Liv lifts her chin, “Who dat?”

You smiled raising your eyes, “Alexia”

“What does she want?” Liv asked, “She found another public place to finger you in”

“Ok” You groan, “Too much”

Alexia: Morning. We should talk. Coffee?

Your heart does a complicated somersault. Three simple sentences that somehow manage to sound both casual and ominous.

You: When and where?

Her response comes immediately.

Alexia: The place on Carrer de València. 30 minutes?

You glance at the clock. That doesn't give you much time.

You: I'll be there.

You're dressed and out the door in record time, grateful for the sunglasses hiding your eyes as you navigate streets already buzzing with speculation. Two teenagers recognise you, whispering and giggling as you pass. A street vendor selling newspapers gives you a knowing wink.

The café is tucked away on a quiet corner, the kind of place locals frequent and tourists rarely find. When you step inside, you spot her immediately—corner table, back to the wall, baseball cap pulled low over her face. Classic celebrity incognito. It wouldn't work for long, but it might buy you a few minutes of privacy.

She looks up as you approach, her expression unreadable behind large sunglasses. When you sit across from her, she pushes a coffee toward you.

"I remembered how you take it," she says quietly.

You take a sip—perfect. The small gesture shouldn't make your chest tighten, but it does.

"So," you begin, because someone has to, "we're trending."

A faint smile touches her lips. "Not the first time. Won't be the last."

"Is that all you have to say about it?"

She removes her sunglasses, folding them carefully beside her cup. The morning light catches in her eyes, turning them the colour of whiskey. Without the barrier of tinted glass between you, her gaze is direct, unflinching.

"What do you want me to say?" she asks quietly. "That I regret it? Because I don't."

The directness of her response makes your stomach flip. You take another sip of coffee to buy yourself time, to steady your nerves. "I don't regret it either," you admit, watching her shoulders relax slightly at your words. “I can’t stop thinking about it actually… that’s not like me at all, I don’t do that”

"Neither do I," Alexia says, her voice low enough that only you can hear. She traces the rim of her coffee cup with one finger, a gesture so casually intimate it makes your throat go dry. "But here we are."

The cafe bustles around you—baristas calling out orders, the hiss of steam wands, the murmur of morning conversations—but in your corner, time seems suspended. You study her face, noting the shadows beneath her eyes that suggest she slept as poorly as you did.

"Our teams are going to have a field day with this," you say, trying to inject some lightness into the conversation.

She laughs softly, shaking her head. "Mine already is. Aitana sent me seventeen texts before I even got out of bed."

"Only seventeen? My group chat has over two hundred messages." You pull out your phone to show her, and your fingers brush as she takes it, sending that same electric current through you that you felt last night. Remembering where they'd been.

Her eyes scan the messages, a small smile playing at her lips. "Your teammates seem... supportive."

"They're nosey is what they are," you counter, but there's no heat in it. "What about yours?"

Alexia hands your phone back, her expression turning thoughtful. "They're protective. They've seen how the media can be when it comes to my personal life."

The reminder of who she is—of who you both are—settles between you like a physical presence. This isn't just about two people attracted to each other. It's about two public figures, two competitors, two women navigating a world that will dissect every interaction.

"So what now?" you ask, echoing her words from last night, but this time in the harsh light of day, with real consequences looming.

Alexia leans forward, her elbows on the table, eyes fixed on yours. "That depends. Was last night just... letting off steam? Getting it out of our systems?" Her voice remains steady, but you catch the slight tension in her jaw, the way her fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around her cup.

The question hangs between you, loaded with implications. The smart answer would be yes—a one-time thing, exciting and memorable but ultimately contained. No complications, no distractions from the season ahead. But looking at her now, remembering the way she'd whispered your name, the vulnerability in her eyes afterward... you know it would be a lie. “You like the chase remember? You tell me, you got what you wanted”

Alexia exhales sharply, a quiet laugh escaping as she shakes her head. "That’s not fair," she murmurs, her fingers still curled around her coffee cup. "You make it sound like this was just a game to me."

"Wasn't it?" you challenge, arching a brow. You don't mean it as an accusation, not really, but you’re still trying to figure out where the line between competition and something more actually is with her. "You spent weeks taunting me, pushing my buttons, daring me to push back. You got what you wanted, didn't you?"

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she looks at you for a long moment, as if deciding how honest she wants to be. "Maybe I did," she admits finally, voice quieter now, more measured. "But that doesn’t mean I’m done."

The words send a slow ripple of heat through you, and you don’t even bother pretending they don’t. "Yeah?" you murmur, tilting your head slightly. "And what does that mean, exactly?"

"It means…" She trails off, exhaling as she leans back in her chair. "It means I haven’t figured that part out yet." She gives you a rueful look. "Not used to this, either."

That admission surprises you, but it also sends a pulse of satisfaction through you. You’re not the only one thrown off balance. "Alright," you say after a beat. "Then let’s figure it out."

Alexia watches you carefully. "And how do we do that?"

You consider for a second before responding. "For starters, we stop pretending we don’t actually want each other. We agree we’re not wanting more than a bit of …fun."

She nods slowly, as if turning the idea over in her head. "And what about everything else? The press, our teams, the season?"

"One orgasm at a time," you say, offering her the faintest smirk. "Unless you’re afraid of a little fun, capitana."

That makes her huff a quiet laugh, shaking her head at you. "You really never back down, do you?"

"Not when something’s worth it."

Alexia’s expression flickers, something shifting behind her eyes, but before you can dissect it, she reaches for her sunglasses again. The moment passes, but the weight of it lingers.

"Okay," she says, voice steady. "One orgasm at a time. Eleven.”

Possible Sequel

#alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #woso #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas one shot #fcb femeni

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