#wanted to try something easy and quick to do to get them all on one thingy

[samkerrworshipper]

trouble in paradise

slow paced/slow burn fics fear me. i wrote this in like 4 hours so lets be kind guys and ignore how spirally thsi is. hopefully another fic coming sometime in the next week xo

williamson!sister x alexia putellas

warnings: light angst, mentions of alcohol

You have mixed emotions as soon as the whistle blows.

You’re ecstatic, obviously. Who wouldn’t be after winning the biggest accolade your club has had in 18 years, especially considering just how much time and effort you’ve devoted to

them in those 18 years.

Arsenal has won, your one and only club has managed to win the champions league in what can only be described as probably the biggest underdog win in champions league history.

It’s exhilarating, it doesn’t feel real. But as your eyes lock onto Alexia, on the other side of the pitch, doubled over on herself like she’s experiencing a pain that is non-human.

Then your eyes move to Leah, your sister who bleeds even more red than you do.

She’s running straight for you, like you’re the only person in the world she wants to share this moment with, and you feel the same, she’s the most important part of your world. But as she blocks your view of Alexia your heart drops in a way that it shouldn’t at this moment.

You don’t have much time to think about it before your sister is barreling straight into you, knocking all the air out of your lungs as the two of you fall to the ground.

“We fucking did it.”

She collapses directly on you like a golden lab who has just spotted its owner and wants the biggest hug a person can give. Her whole body buries itself into yours, and then about five more as the dog pile starts.

You are just as Arsenal and Leah and Lotte, every single part of your body and soul belongs to the club. But you have this underlying feeling that you shouldn’t at this moment. It’s weird to consciously know it but not be able to change it.

You’ve gotten so used to Barcelona winning, sitting in the stands for the last two finals watching your girlfriend win everything and anything that she sets her eyes on. It’s annoying how easy it all is for her, but it’s also what you love about her.

Leah says you're a puppy dog, she’s never quite gotten used to Alexia. Like any older sibling she’s protective, but Leah takes it to another level. She’s never made anything easy for Alexia, ruthless to a point that you’ve never seen her be with anybody else and yet Alexia takes it all, never complains, if anything she gives ten times more in an attempt to seek some kind of approval from your sister. She never quite gets it, but she likes the challenge, you know it.

The dog pile eventually falls off and you're left to look up at the sky. You think that it’s perfect, and that truly if you could stay staring up at the bright Lisbon blue for the rest of your life you would.

But you're brutally taken from that as a set of arms tug you off the ground. Suddenly the 90+ minutes of playing time hit you, or maybe the nausea, or guilt and you feel wobbly. Like your whole body could collapse if your teammates weren’t holding you up.

Leah kisses your head, over and over again until she moves onto having a moment with Kim and you've got Kyra plastered to your side telling you how you’re her idol and some other spur of words that don’t quite process in your brain.

It’s probably easily played off as shock due to the win, but in reality you actually are experiencing the worst guilt you’ve ever felt.

The shaking hands is worse, specifically because you have spent the last three summers with this team and have never in your life seen them all completely gutted. You try to keep it quick, but when Ingrid starts crying into you shoulder you legitimately feel like you might vomit.

Alexia is the worst, because of course she is.

It’s hard enough to approach her, sitting on the ground with Mapi squatted down next to her.

Mapi spots you first, your Spanish isn’t bad but you certainly can’t lip read it. She says something to Alexia though, because she looks up at you for a split second. You watch the hope fade into something else that looks like disgust and then she says something to Mapi which prompts Mapi to stand up.

The frown on her face tells you everything.

“She-She just needs a few minutes.”

You try not to let it show on your face, not to show the complete rejection you feel at being blocked from the one person who can probably solve your problem.

Mapi must see it though, she’s good at that you’ve learnt, good at reading people who don’t want to be.

“She’ll call you later, or come see you, I’ll make sure of it. She just needs a little bit.”

You try and convince yourself that it isn’t the worst pain you’ve ever felt.

The guard of honour is probably the worst part, she reaches out for Mariona a few steps in front of you, and then her eyes lock on you and you have hope. But she walks past, as if you’re nothing. As if you haven’t been in a public relationship for two years now and as if she isn’t the love of your life like she’s told you.

You feel Leah’s glare from beside you, her hand tightening in its place on your shoulder in a silent question. Her head ducks down, resting in your ear as if she’s going to say something.

“Leave it. Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. If you want me to keep smiling for the cameras, stay silent.”

You’re the quieter out of you and Leah, less bossy, generally more in the shadows. But your relationship is quite the opposite, it kind of has to be when you’re dating the best player in the world. You already know how many tik tok edits are already going to be made about this moment and how many rogue messages you’ll receive from people who know nothing about your life.

Leah gets the message, she’s smart enough not to prod when there are quite literally cameras at every angle recording every moment right now. She has her own relationship that she’s trying to preserve from all of the media. She knows what it means to keep some parts of a public life hidden.

Barcelona collect their medals and you try to keep a tight smile on your face as you watch Alexia walk across the stage and take her medal. She’s not used to having a silver one, it’s the first thought in your mind, not for a long time at least. All she ever does is win, she was literally the poster girl for nikes ‘just win’ campaign.

Then it’s your turn, your turn to walk through Barca’s guard of honour. Most of the girls who you’ve spent summers with open up for a hug, or a handshake at least. But Alexia looks so spaced out and out of the moment that she doesn’t even flinch when Frido elbows her in the ribs. She looks at you, like a kicked puppy and then looks at the fucking ground of all places.

It’s the twisting of the knife already lodged in your gut.

You try to smile as the confetti goes off and the trophy is lifted. You try and think about how much more upset you’ll be when you look at the pictures afterwards just for you to look upset in all of them. It does nothing though, not when the trophy is offered to you to lift, not when Lotte has her arms around your shoulders humming to ‘North London Forever’ , not when your sister tries to dance with you.

Even when your family comes down to the pitch. Even the sight of your Spurs father in an Arsenal jersey does nothing.

Mariona is the first person to bring you in for a proper hug.

“It doesn’t feel good doing it, wishing that other people would win so much that you’d rather lose.”

You’re off to the side, far enough away that you don’t feel suffocated by red. A different shade of red to the Barcelona one you were expecting to see.

“Is it bad that I was so certain they were going to win that this wasn’t a possibility?”

Mariona shakes her head, although you highly doubt she agrees. She’s as invested in this belief as everybody else, you were too. You believed that your team could win, you just somehow didn’t believe it was actually going to happen.

“Not at all, there is nothing bad about being surprised about an outcome you didn’t expect. How about you go and talk to Ale?”

You feel sick thinking about her. She’s your favourite person and yet it feels like you’re the last person she wants to see.

“She doesn’t want to see me. She’s made that very clear.”

Mariona frowns and brings you in for another hug.

“She’s never been a very good loser, give her an hour and she’ll warm back up. She’ll want to celebrate with you when she’s gotten over this.”

You hope for the love of god that Mariona is right.

You put yourself through the hell of post-game celebrations and media. Take every photo and every interview that you have to and then you’re heading straight back to the hotel.

Alexia’s hotel is the one next to yours, and you make the decision that you can’t go to the celebrations until you’ve sorted it all out. Once you get to the celebrations you’re inevitably going to drink, in the company of Katie McCabe and your sister you’ll probably drink a lot. You tend to have a pattern of your anger when you're drunk turning into a very ugly person and you’re determined to not let it happen right now. You also want to see your girlfriend.

Leah moans the whole walk over, groaning about how she could be partying and about how she could be drinking and celebration and a whole other slew of complaints that your depressed brain isn’t ready to hear.

You make it into the lobby without encountering anybody, but Alexia’s hotel hallway is full of Barcelona staff and players who look like they're ready to spit and yours and your sisters game jerseys that you’re still wearing.

“I don’t get why we have to bloody search for Putellas when she’s having a pity party, we should be partying.”

You hiss at Leah, she’s slightly tipsy on the heineken cans from the locker room and is bordering on your last nerve.

“I didn’t ask you to come Leah, I am here because I want to be, I didn’t tell you to accompany me.”

She groans again but you’re too focused as your eyes lock onto Patri at the end of the hallway.

“Oi, Patri, Patri.”

She turns quickly, her eyes downcast and puffy as if she’s been crying for hours, which your figure she probably could have.

“Williamson one, Williamson two.”

Leah laughs, as if it’s the funniest joke that could have been made.

“Glad to see that I haven’t lost my sense of humour.”

Then Leah giggles, the same way she does when she’s plastered at the pub on a Sunday night and is two steps away from forgetting everything.

“I need to see Alexia.”

Patri swallows, in the same way people tend to when they’re nervous.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

Leah’s giggling seizes. She steps out in front of you.

“Tell Putellas to stop sulking and come and congratulate my sister the same way she has the last two years. She can get over herself for five minutes and be gracious.”

Suddenly the possibility of a fight in this hallway doesn’t seem impossible.

“Patri, please, just let me see her. She doesn’t need to talk, I just want to see her.”

Patri shakes her head, but you assume Leah does the scary thing where she frowns and tilts her head like an animal about to strike because Patri relents.

“I will try, but I can’t promise you anything.”

Patri disappears down the hallway until she gets to a room a few doors down, she must have Alexia’s keycard because the door opens immediately and she slips in.

“Seriously, why are we here? This is your night and Putellas is ruining it. Her sob story is seriously killing the buzz.”

You’re sick of everybody else telling you what to do and what to feel.

“Leah I didn’t fucking ask you to be here, shut up or leave. This is my problem and I’m happy to fix it on my own.”

Leah mutters something under her breath and you swear you might strangle her, it wouldn’t be the first time the two of you had gotten into a tussle. Then you spot Mapi down the end of the hallway and your focus switches again. This time you don’t have to yell, she spots you immediately and pivots in your direction.

“Chica, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be partying, no? Or at least doing something better than this.”

Your strangling intention pivots to Mapi.

“This is what I’m saying, why are we here?”

Strangling back to Leah.

“Leah, final time I tell you to shut up before I throat punch you.”

You might not be as intense as your sister but when you get worked up you’d argue you’re ten times more terrifying.

“I just need Ale, okay? Five seconds is all I need.”

Mapi grimaces and it feels like you’re missing something and you hate it.

Just as you’re about to say something, Patri emerges. With no Alexia and a deep frown etched into her face.

“How about you come back tomorrow, or she’ll call you sometime tomorrow.”

You use all of your willpower to shake your head.

“No, tell her that it’s urgent, that I need her right now.”

Leah’s back behind you like a guard dog who's ready to attack at any minute.

“Look, she’s not, she can’t see you right now.”

You feel all the tears building up, all the guilt and anger from today finally coming to fruition.

“Patri, Mapi, please.”

It’s the wobble in your words that do it you think, or at least it does it for Leah.

“You two need to talk to your captain and give her thirty seconds to see my sister whilst she still has some dignity. This is fucking embarassing. She’s stood by her for all of her wins even when it’s been hard for her, she has been there for literally everything.”

Neither of the women move and it’s probably the part that breaks you the most, that these people who you have known for years now don’t have the respect to give you this.

Leah pushes past them, walking to the door Patri had walked in and out of and banging on it so loudly the sound reverberates.

“Putellas I swear to god, or dios or whatever the fuck you call it in Catalan that if you don’t open this door right now to give my sister the congratulations she fucking deserves then I will make sure that she never comes and sees you again. You think that you already have it tough with me? I will make you so miserable that you’d wish to be in hell. Open the fucking door.”

Leah keeps banging, until your ears are ringing and multiple staff members peek their heads out of their bedroom doors to see what all the commotion is.

“Leah.”

It seems like the adrenaline has gotten to her head.

“Leah, let’s go.”

Leah looks like she’s about to say something else, like she’s going to argue but your face must say it all.

“Tell Putellas she can go and get fucked and that if she ever wants to see my baby sister again she better have a pretty good apology lined up and some serious grovelling. In England. No more flying out to Spain because it’s easier for her. She wants anything to do with her she can come talk to me first.”

You don’t wait to see if Leah is following behind you, you just start walking. Down the hallway and into the elevator where Leah does join you.

She doesn’t talk even though it seems like she wants to. She brings you into a hug as soon as the doors close and you don’t even attempt to stifle your sobs.

Leah hugs you until the doors to the elevator open and then she helps you to wipe your face as you exit the hotel and make the walk two blocks back to your own hotel.

The party in the function room is in full swing. Leah forces you through the door like she knows that you’re considering bolting.

“You’re going to regret it if you leave, hate me for it now but I’m right.”

You definitely hate her for it but you don’t run away either. You let your sister tug you through the crowd of people until she finds your mom and then you're gone all over again. Leah walks off in search of Elle and you're left standing in front of your mum with new tears streaming down your face. It takes all of five seconds for her to wrap her arms around you and bring her into you.

“I don’t get why she doesn’t want to see me, I just want to see her.”

You don’t know whether or not you want to hear anything. You want to be able to celebrate with your teammates like a normal person and not be so attached to your fucking girlfriend that when shit like this happens you fall apart.

You’ve always loved hard though, loyal to the point it’s kind of concerning. It’s the one thing you do beat Leah at.

“Just give her a little bit, yeah, she’s struggling. Give her some room to breathe and then punch her a bit for being a dick and get over it. You two will get over it together.”

You want to believe your mum, she’s generally right with most things. You’re a bit hurt right now though to think straight.

“Go enjoy yourself, I promise you that if you don’t then you’ll regret it. Enjoy yourself and worry about Alexia later.”

You would say that the three tequila shots that Katie feeds you are probably what makes you start to enjoy yourself. There’s an unspoken assumption that you’re clearly not okay but everybody is decent enough not to ask. You’re given pretty much every alcoholic beverage that your teammates can find and it helps, slightly. You forget about Alexia for a little bit, for long enough for it to hurt a little bit less.

Until Vic comes up to you telling you that there is somebody from Barcelona waiting for you outside.

Your heart soars, and you all but try to stumble as quickly as you can out of the function room in search of the one person you want to be.

Your heart plummets as soon as you make it out of the doors and Jana is the one waiting for you.

Your mind is significantly more foggy than it was when you were talking to Patri and Mapi.

“She’s sorry.”

Sorry seems to be the worst thing you could be told.

“Sorry?”

Jana shrugs like she has more to say but doesn’t know how to.

“She just needs a bit of a break right now.”

You feel every positive feeling that had been starting to reintroduce itself to your body completely leave.

“A break from our relationship, or me or just life?”

Jana looks like she really doesn’t know what to say.

“So she loses one game, the first game shes ever fucking played against me for club and decides she’s just done? That she can’t stomach perfect fucking barcelona losing? Nice, love that her pride comes before me. You’d think after three years that would maybe pass but I suppose the time doesn’ matter as much to her as it matters to me.”

Jana is left speechless and that’s all the answers you need.

You drink. You drink a lot. Going toe to toe with Katie is no small feat but you manage to do pretty well. You drink until you can’t think anymore and are legless and then you drink some more.

You don’t know what time somebody takes you to bed but you do know that you wake up with Leah snoring beside you and your head so sore that it feels like your brain doesn’t belong inside of it.

“Oi, stop fucking snoring. No wonder Elle complains.”

Leah rouses next to you, a lopsided smile on her face as she blinks away the sleep. She put an arm out to hug you and you give her a shove that almost pushes her off of the bed.

“Glad to see that your charm doesn’t disappear when you’re nursing the hangover of the century. I was supposed to spend the night with Elle but you were so blind I genuinely thought you were going to choke on your own vomit in your sleep.”

You try to shove her again but she’s far away now that she��s out of the shoving vicinity.

“You’re supposed to be nice to me, y’know, little sister care or something.”

Leah rolls her eyes.

“Yeah right I’ve seen Putellas fight on the floor with her sister.”

As soon as the words leave Leah’s mouth she knows what she's done, everything you’d almost forgotten comes flooding straight back and the sickness washes over you all over again.

“Shit-I’m-Shit.”

You shake your head, it's already been said.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. We should start packing, early flight and everything.”

Leah seems to get the message, rolling out of your bed in a thud and dragging herself out of your room with a little smile on the corner of her lips.

You have peace for about five minutes, enough peace to silence the pain in your head every time you blink or move. Until your door unlocks and Kyra comes barreling in.

“So trouble in paradise?”

She’s got a lot more energy than you think anybody else does. As if she never drank to begin with.

“You can either leave or be quiet and help me pack my bag.”

Kyra wasn’t the person you thought you’d bond with. When she’d come to Arsenal you’d already cemented pretty solid relationships with girls in the team like Lotte and Kim. You all were on the quieter side. Then Kyra had come along and everything you’d heard about her and seen of her was loud and rambunctious and chaotic. Then you got to know her, got to know about how she was an extroverted introvert and 80% of the time was a lot calmer than everyone made her out to be. The two of you found a balance together.

“I’ll do your toiletries, you sort out luggage.”

You're sick of the little sorry smile people keep giving you.

Kyra battles in your ensuite whilst you throw the very small amounts of your things into your suitcase. It’s a quick process and by the time you check your phone you’re running perfectly on time. You try not to feel hurt by the lack of texts, calls or signs of life from Alexia. You’re fine, none of it really matters.

Kyra and you manage to get your things out of your room right as some of the staff are coming down and knocking on peoples door to meet down at the bus transfers to the airport. You try not to think about the fact that as soon as you get on the plane that’s another two weeks before you play Alexia again. Two more weeks without seeing her that you didn’t think you’d have.

You help Kyra pack up her own things before the two of you head down to the lobby to wait.

The lobby is already pretty full, full of teammates who look like they’re in desperate need of a bucket or some serious anti-nausea pills before they hop on a flight.

You dump your luggage with everybody else’s and find a seat mostly away from everybody else. Although nobody seems to be in an overly sociable mood.

You’re wallowing in your own depression, really. It’s a little bit pathetic but you don’t really care. You’re past the point of caring what anybody thinks of you after you pretty much confessed all of your relationship problems to half of your teammates last night and possibly coaching staff as well.

You should be embarrassed but in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t really matter. It feels like your relationship is imploding in front of you and you literally can’t do anything to stop it.

“Mini Williamson, you’re wanted.”

Beth’s voice is completely gone, raw and stringy but you hear it all the same.

“I don’t want a photo or anything else, Beth.”

Suddenly you wish that you’d gotten your sunglasses from your bag because as the sun shines in through the windows in the lobby your head hurts at a whole other level.

“I think you’ll want to see this.”

You look up at Beth and then at the direction she’s pointing in and choke on whatever air you’d been inhaling.

“Oh god.”

Alexia looks like she hasn’t slept, less than you. The part that is the most horrific about her appearance though is the arsenal jersey that she’s wearing. You’ve never seen Alexia in a jersey of yours that hasn’t been an English one, there was a weird contingency between the two of you that club jerseys were just a no. You both were one club players, and you wanted it to stay that way. Yet here Alexia is, standing in the lobby of the hotel with a bright red Arsenal jersey.

The only thought you have is that as you sister locks eyes with her that she is going to punch her. It’s the only thing that crosses your mind.

“Leah. No.”

Leah doesn’t listen, it was a hopeless attempt. She flys full force towards Alexia at a rate that you could never catch up with.

Alexia doesn’t flinch as Leah comes face to face with her, her hands digging into the stupid jersey as Leah starts to yell something that you can’t understand because your too focused on getting in between the two of them without passing out from hangover symptoms.

You manage to cross the room before Leah throws hands. Thankfully.

“Leah, no. Not here.”

You try to ignore the fifty eyes of your teammates on you.

Leah looks like an animal about to tear into her prey.

“Leah. No. Not here.”

You drag the two of them into the nearest handicapped bathroom you can find.

“You think you can just dick around my sister and show up here the next morning and be forgiven, huh? God Putellas you should be worshipping her fucking feet right now, you should be grateful that she hasn’t broken up with you ass for your dumbass behaviour. Do you realise how out of your league she is? How any person in London would break their own leg to have her, and yet you just get to have her and fuck her around however you want?”

Alexia just nods along with everything Leah says.

“Are you done, Leah? Can I talk to my partner now without my sister talking for me?”

Leah is staring down Alexia with such intensity that you think she might combust.

“Leah, out, let me talk to her, please.”

Leah relents, but then gives up.

“I will be waiting outside and if I hear anything leave your mouth Putellas besides an apology I will be back.”

The older sister act has happened your whole life, to every girlfriend, fling, one night stand and partner. Apparently it’s unavoidable.

The room is silent for a few seconds, Alexia doesn’t look like she’s going to say anything so you fill the silence.

“I’ve never seen you in an Arsenal top before.”

With the busy schedule you hardly manage to make it to any of Alexia’s club matches and vice versa. Although you do have a Barca top buried in the bottom of your dresser that you pull out when you have time to watch Alexia’s games. You never wear it but you bring it out anyways.

“You won, you deserve to be represented.”

You can’t tell how authentic it is and that hurts.

“I just didn’t deserve it last night.”

Alexia looks so broken that you almost fold, almost give up the tough persona but you’re still hurt, even as you look at Alexia’s pouty features and empty eyes.

“I-I there’s no excuse. You deserved to celebrate how you pleased last night and I ruined it for you. I was selfish and too consumed in my own emotions to see that. I don’t have anything to say but I’m sorry. You deserved better and I didn’t give it to you.”

Alexia’s lip quivers, properly quivers.

“That’s all you have? That you were too worried about yourself to care about me? Do you understand that to be in a relationship it's 50/50, you don’t get to choose when you care about me and when you don’t. You’re supposed to love me unconditionally.”

A tear rolls down Alexia’s face and you feel horrible, but you know you’re doing the right thing by not going easy.

“I’ve never lost to somebody I loved. I’ve never played on a field and wanted another person to win simply because I love them. I’ve never felt worse than I did when I was happy that you won. I was supposed to be upset about us losing and yet I was more upset about the fact that I was happy that you won. I didn’t want to ruin your celebrations by being upset, you deserved to be surrounded by people who were going to appreciate you fully instead of distract you. I wanted you to be free of me burdening you.”

It’s the relatability, the fact that you can say that everything Alexia is describing you also felt.

“I want to share everything with you. I don’t spend every spare minute on the phone with you and every other minute thinking about you to not want to spend the ups and downs with you. I would have rather sat in your hotel room all of last night crying then gone to stupid celebrations not knowing how you felt about me.”

The silence hangs for a few seconds.

“They were great celebrations, not stupid and Putellas this is when you actually apologise so I don’t kill you.”

You bang your head against the wall of the bathroom.

“Leah, Fuck off.”

Alexia shakes her head.

“I am sorry. I did not give you wanted on the night of your life. You deserved to be celebrated and I did the complete opposite. I never want that to happen again, I love your more than anything, you are my life and you are my soul. Please, let me make it iup to you. I’ll come to London, I’ll do anything. I just want you, I want to make it up to you.”

You suppose she’s the love of your life, and you aren’t quite ready for this to be the end of that.

“You’ll come to London and you’ll wear my jersey all weekend and you’ll go out for dinner with Leah and make things up and you’ll deal with me when I’m wasted or so hungover I can’t move until you have to go to Spain. Understood.”

Alexia nods dutifully.

“And she’ll take you shopping, both of us shopping, and I want the new oakley drop.”

You roll your eyes and reach out for Alexia, letting her press the most respectable of kisses to your cheek before parting.

“Leah if you aren’t gone by the time I exit I will make it so you can never play football again.”

You wait for the scamper of her feet before you fall into Alexia with the whole weight of your body, relaxing against the person you’ve needed most,

[villainessbian]

How do I go in the timeline where being very vaguely critical of the concept "something that was designed to be doable by children with a little bit of learning-improving thought about the concepts might feel overwhelming, so I used the brand new Environment Destroyer 3000 to miss the learning opportunity and poorly say something for me I could have just as poorly said myself in just 5 minutes more with no consequences to me or anyone" isn't given the least charitable reading ever and depicted as monstrous?

Look at "useful idiot" here. School itself is now a political faction with the goal of breaking children, that's the only way a "useful idiot" would be used. Homework can't be done in under 3 hours and it has to be perfect or Consequences. That's just how it works, right?

Sigh, some of you are so quick to have opinions you forget to base them on the world around you. It's high school homework. The point of high school homework is that you think about the lesson when you're home and when it gets corrected you know what points you got down and what points you can make progress on.

Spend five minutes - five minutes - looking at the inside of your notebook during the week-end and you've done the expected amount. Now write something poorly, you're a child, no one expects you to make Ulysses, just to show that you got something out of the class and into your brain. Boom, you're ahead of the curve.

Do your homework poorly, that's what it gets corrected for. Now you have more time. You're welcome.

But do it yourself, or you're wasting a bunch of things:

you're wasting more of your time copying it than writing something bad,

you're wasting your teachers' time correcting something you're not going to learn anything from (if you want to make it a social justice thing, guess who has less sleep and more work than high school students? high school teachers. don't waste the time they're trying to help you with ffs),

you're wasting yourself a learning opportunity,

and you're wasting away your ability to use the intellectual functions required to do it

By the way, these intellectual functions are needed for something that, let's be honest, is not that hard. Can it be challenging for a kid? Sure. Can it be time-consuming? Maybe, if it's too much then half-ass it, you can take my Teacher's Word for it that doing it poorly is infinitely more useful than not doing it at all and your teacher will want to actually help you. But it's ultimately not very difficult. You need to develop past the point where you find it difficult. A functional adult should be able to look at high school homework and find all of it intuitively easy to do as well as know how they'd be done relatively fast. If you take the opportunity to never train these abilities, you'll never get there.

Honestly, y'all, I'm begging you. Take the time to think and learn for yourself. Even if it's just something casual like knitting or cooking. Exercise your brain. It's important.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Bob Floyd X Reader: Pretty boy

a/n: another Bob played by Lewis that i absolutely write and never got to writing for.

Warnings: readers call sign is Echo, fluff, Bob being a nervous cutie, kissing, mutual pinning, cheesy lines (its fluff guys let me have this one), no use of y/n.

Word count: 2.2K

“Hey there, pretty boy.”

Bob didn’t need to raise his eyes to know you were the one talking to him. You’d given him the nickname and made it extremely clear only you were allowed to use it. He lifted his eyes from the pool table, gaze finding your frame. You were wearing civilian clothes like the rest of the crew, but somehow, seeing you out of uniform affected Bob more than seeing the others. Maybe it wasn’t the clothes. Maybe it was just who was wearing them.

“Can I have some?”

Bob understood you were talking about the chips in his hands—his go-to snack at The Hard Deck. He lifted the container from the table beside him, offering it to you. You gave him a small smile of gratitude, grabbing a handful and stuffing it into your mouth. Bob continued to look at you as you chewed, but you were focused on the pool game before you. Phoenix scored a shot, causing you to yell out in victory. The rest of the crew raised their heads to look in your direction, realizing for the first time that you had arrived.

“Didn’t think you were coming, Echo.”

“Oh yeah? Why, scared I'd beat you again, Hangman?”

Phoenix grinned at your words. You two always had a knack for getting on the boys' nerves. Hangman was an easy target thanks to his inflated ego, so you took whatever shot you could when it came to him.

“Better put your money where your mouth is.”

Hangman moved over to you, lifting the pool stick in invitation. You raised your eyebrows at him—you knew better than to take the bait.

“Nah, I’m good. Don’t need to prove myself to you.”

The others let out small noises like “uff” and “oh, burn” at your words, causing your smirk to widen.

“Plus, I think I'd rather spend time with Bob anyway.”

Hangman's eyes shifted to the man beside you, lips curling into a teasing smile before turning back to you.

“I’m sure you would.”

There was something cruel hidden beneath the phrase. You chose to ignore it. Like you often did. Realizing he wouldn’t get a rise out of you, Hangman turned on his heels, moving back to where Phoenix was still waiting for him to take his shot.

You turned your attention back to Bob, moving to sit next to him. The stools were small and close together—an attempt to use up as much of the limited space as possible—which caused your body to be flush against Bob’s. You felt him shift a bit, body slightly tense.

“This okay? I can sit somewhere else.”

You moved to get up, but Bob placed a hand on your thigh in desperation.

“No, it’s okay.”

He paused, realizing where his hand rested on your body, then moved it as quick as lightning. You laughed at the action.

“Sorry. I was just trying to be a—”

“Gentleman?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled at him, patting his thigh with your hand.

“You’re all good, Bob. Don’t worry about it.”

With that, you removed your hand from his thigh, resting it in your own lap. Bob's eyes remained glued to where you had touched him. His skin felt warm. You always seemed to have that effect on him. Whenever you were close, Bob would find himself getting flushed. He forced himself to drag his eyes back to the pool table, even though he’d much rather continue looking at you.

Upon remembering your request for his chips, Bob reached for his beer, touching your shoulder gently with his to get your attention. You looked over at him, glancing at the cup in his hand before giving him a questioning gaze.

“You want some?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure, thanks.”

Bob merely shrugged, handing you his cup. You took a sip before passing it back. You continued to do that until the cup was empty.

“Oh shoot. I finished it. Sorry, Bob—I’ll go get another one.”

“Oh, it’s okay, I don’t need—”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll get it.”

You turned to the others.

“Anyone else want a top-up?”

After getting everyone's cups, you began moving toward the bar. Bob grabbed your arm as you passed, causing you to pause.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. Really, it’s—”

“I want to.”

You were slightly taken aback by the words, but you welcomed the company.

“If you’re sure.”

You and Bob made your way through the crowd toward the bar, weaving between bodies and half-full tables. The Hard Deck was packed tonight—sailors, aviators, and locals all jostling for elbow room. The air smelled like beer and salt, and the music thumped loud enough to feel in your ribs.

Bob stayed close, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes scanning the room like he always did—quiet, alert, steady. You liked that about him. No pretense. No bluster. Just Bob.

You’d only just placed the drink order when the song changed—one of those upbeat, slightly retro tracks with a funky bass line and smooth vocals, the kind that immediately lit a spark in your chest. Your head snapped toward the jukebox like it had called your name. A wide grin spread across your face.

“Oh my god, I love this song.”

Bob turned to look at you, eyebrows lifting behind his glasses. “

Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You bobbed your head to the beat, already feeling the rhythm in your limbs. 

“Come on, Bob. Dance with me.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Dance?”

You didn’t wait for a full yes. You grabbed his hand, tugging him gently but insistently away from the bar. 

“You can’t say no, Bob. It's the rules.”

“What rules?” 

He asked, but you were already halfway to the open space between the dartboard and the old jukebox, a makeshift dance floor when the vibe was right.

“The ones I just made up.”

Bob stumbled after you, half-laughing, half-dreading, though his fingers stayed laced in yours. You stopped in the center of the room, turning to face him, still swaying to the music.

“Just follow my lead, pretty boy.”

“I don’t really dance,” he admitted quietly, looking everywhere but at you.

“Doesn’t matter. Just move. It’s not about looking good, it’s about having fun.”

You placed his hands on your waist and gave him an encouraging smile. Bob hesitated a second longer, then slowly let the music guide him, shifting his weight side to side. He was awkward at first, uncertain, but you were patient—moving in closer, syncing your steps with his, laughing when he accidentally bumped your knee with his.

“You’re doing fine,” you said, leaning in like you were telling a secret.

He gave you a small, sheepish smile—the kind that made your chest flutter a little.

“I think you’re just saying that.”

“Maybe,” you said, teasing. “But I’m still glad you’re out here.”

And then, like some switch flipped inside him, Bob started to relax. His shoulders dropped. His grip on your waist grew surer. The next spin you pulled him into wasn’t met with hesitation—it was met with a chuckle.

Maybe he wasn’t a dancer. But dancing with you? That, he could do.

And then the song changed into a slower one, causing your body to move closer. Bob’s breath hitched as he felt the shift—the proximity of your bodies finally settling in his mind. His throat felt dry. His gaze moved around the room, searching to see if anyone was watching. No one was, each person glued to their own conversation to notice a couple of people dancing near the bar.

You felt the tension in Bob’s body, causing you to call out his name. He forced his eyes to meet yours. “You okay?”

Bob didn’t answer at first, trying to figure out what he should do. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss you. But that wouldn’t be appropriate. Not in front of all these people. Not without making sure you’d be okay with him doing it.

The lack of response made you pull away slightly, becoming a bit self-conscious yourself. Had you gone too far? Had your desire to be near him made him feel uncomfortable?

“We can stop if you want. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Bob began to feel you pull away. The feeling caused him to act, his hands tightening around your waist. Not forceful—just reassuring. “No, I…” he paused for a moment, uncertain. “I want to keep dancing with you. If you want to, that is.”

You smiled at him, shoulders relaxing. You hadn’t scared him. Not yet.

 “I’d like that.”

You moved together in an easy rhythm, your bodies swaying gently, comfortably. Bob’s hands rested on your waist like he was afraid to hold you too tightly, but they stayed. Steady. Sure. You looped your arms around his shoulders, fingers brushing the back of his neck, and for a moment, the world felt small in the best way—just the two of you in a noisy bar, dancing like no one was watching.

You leaned your cheek against his, lips close to his ear.

“You’re a fast learner,” you murmured, your breath making him shiver.

Bob gave a quiet laugh, the sound low and close. 

“I have a good teacher.”

Another minute passed like that—close and quiet—until Bob pulled back slightly, eyes searching yours.

“Would it be okay if we stepped outside for a bit?” 

His voice was soft, almost uncertain. 

“It’s a little loud in here.”

You nodded immediately. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Bob gently took your hand again, weaving you both through the crowd. The door creaked open and spilled warm air into the cooler night, the ocean breeze brushing against your skin. You both stepped out into the open air, away from the music, away from the bodies and lights and laughter.

Once you’d stepped out, Bob let go of your hand. You longed for the feeling again, but you understood that he’d probably let go because he wasn’t sure if you'd be okay with him holding you like that. You opted to stay quiet, tailing beside him as you two walked. You didn’t know where he wanted to go exactly, but you continued to follow him. You looked up at the sky, a soft “wow” escaping your lips as you caught sight of the moon. Bob heard the sound, gaze shifting to see what you were staring at. A soft smile made its way onto his face as he looked at you taking in the moon.

“Come on. I want to show you something.”

He lifted his hand to you. You took it, glad to have his palm back in yours. He began running—not fast, but enough to make you have to race a bit to keep up with him. Once you made it to the spot, he let go of your hand, moving to lean over the railing. You copied his movements. And then you saw it: the way the moon reflected against the ocean. You let out a soft gasp.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It really is.”

You turned to face Bob, finding his eyes on you instead of the sight before you. You flushed a bit, realizing he’d been talking about you and not the moon. Bob inched closer to you, pulling off the railing so he could face you directly. You allowed him to go at his own pace, making his way to you slowly.

Bob stopped a breath away from you, his eyes flickering down to your lips before darting quickly back up to your gaze. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. You waited, giving him time. He always seemed to need a second longer to speak his mind.

“I’ve been wanting to do something,” he finally said, voice low, as if afraid the wind might carry it away.

You tilted your head slightly. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “But I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to... assume anything.”

Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone. You stepped in a little closer, closing the last of the distance between you. Close enough to feel his warmth.

“You won’t.”

Bob leaned in, slow and deliberate. Giving you every chance to pull away. When you didn’t—when you leaned into him too—his hand found your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. His lips met yours in a kiss that was every bit as sweet and careful as you’d expected from him. No rush. No push. Just Bob. Steady. Honest.

The kiss was soft at first—testing the waters. But when you kissed him back, really kissed him, he melted into it, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, like he’d finally stopped holding himself back.

When you pulled apart, your forehead rested against his.

You stood there in silence for a moment, just breathing each other in, the ocean crashing softly below, the moonlight catching in his glasses.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted, not quite looking at you.

“I was hoping you would.”

You both smiled. Then Bob reached for your hand again, interlacing your fingers.

“Wanna stay out here a little longer?” 

You nodded, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Yeah. I think I could stay right here all night.”

Bob gave you a full, toothy smile.

 “Not a problem with me.”

You settled back into his arms, breathing in the scent of his cologne and the warmth radiating from his body. He was your pretty boy—yours, and no one else’s.

It had taken him a while to realize it, but he’d managed to get there eventually. And you couldn’t have been happier.

[alltimecharlo]

begging for a fic about the coffee shop. will hiding in the bathroom??

yay!!! yes, yes, i was hoping someone would ask! fic under the cut 🩵

Mack spots him first, through the big window of the quiet Stockholm coffee shop. Coach—Warsofsky—walking past like he’s just out for a peaceful morning stroll. Which, okay, maybe he is. It’s Team USA’s downtime before the gold medal game, Mack knows that much. But Mack stiffens anyway.

“Oh shit,” he mutters, eyes narrowing slightly.

Across the table, Will is mid-sip of his cappuccino, the foam clinging to his lip. “What?”

Mack doesn’t take his eyes off the street. “Coach.”

Will chokes. “Coach?”

Mack tilts his chin toward the window. “Warso. Right there.”

Will twists around fast—too fast—and then ducks so hard his chair squeaks across the floor. He’s already halfway out of his seat. “Nope. Nope, absolutely not. I told him I was—fuck, I told him I was doing a solo museum thing. Why would I lie? Why did I lie? Get rid of him. I’m going to the bathroom—”

He’s gone before Mack can say a word, disappearing down the hallway past the pastry counter.

And then, like clockwork, Warsofsky pushes through the glass door with the polite jingle of the bell overhead.

Mack exhales through his nose, plants a relaxed expression on his face, and sinks a little deeper into his seat as Warso collects his coffee. When Coach’s eyes land on him, Mack offers a casual wave like he just happens to be here, alone.

“Hey there,” Warso says, approaching the table. “Didn’t expect to see you back in Stockholm.”

Mack shrugs, keeping it easy. “Yeah. Team Canada’s flying out from here, so we had to come back for all our stuff.”

Warso winces in sympathy. “Tough loss. Denmark played a hell of a game.”

“Yeah,” Mack says, mouth twitching. “Definitely not the ending we wanted.”

“Still,” Warso nods, “you guys had a solid showing. And hey—USA’s looking good.”

“Smitty’s looked real good,” Mack agrees smoothly.

Warso smiles. “He’s stepped up. Playing like he’s got something to prove.”

“Yeah, he always does.”

They linger in a weird little silence. Mack taps his fingers on his cup, then takes a slow sip.

“You waiting for someone?” Warso asks, glancing at the empty seat across from him.

Mack nods. “Yeah. Should be here soon.”

Inside, he’s chanting please leave please leave please leave like a spell.

Warso, thankfully, doesn’t linger. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Will do, Coach. Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks. We’ll need it.”

As soon as the door shuts behind him, Mack’s already leaning toward the back hallway. A few seconds later, Will peeks out like a guilty raccoon.

“Is he gone?”

“Yeah. You’re safe.”

Will slinks back to the table, collapsing into his seat with a dramatic sigh. “Jesus. That was a close one.”

Mack grins, reaching for his coffee again. “You really thought hiding in the bathroom was your best option?”

“Yes. And it worked, didn’t it?” Will sips from his cup, watching Mack over the rim. “So…who were you meeting?”

Mack raises a brow. “What?”

“Coach asked if you were waiting for someone and you said yes. I mean, I guess technically true, but you made it sound like a date or something.”

There’s a twitch at the corner of Will’s mouth, like he’s trying to play it cool but not quite pulling it off.

“You jealous?”

Will shrugs, but it’s too loose, too quick. “I’ve only just got you back.”

And yeah, that hits Mack in the chest a little. He clears his throat. Looks down at Will’s hand on the table and wishes, briefly, that they weren’t in public.

Instead, he nudges Will’s foot under the table. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

Mack snorts. “Unfortunately.”

Will grins, looking so damn smug with his chain tucked beneath his hoodie. Mack wants to kiss him stupid.

They probably will end up sneaking the other into one of their hotel rooms tonight. Knowing them, there’s no probably about it.

♡

[yoichiin]

the ultimate guide for winning over blue lock men!

a true and trusted manual for winning over the soccer player of your dreams! just follow these simple instructions and your favorite blue lock member will be all over you! (results not tested, use at your own risk.)

includes isagi, bachira, rin, and reo. gn!reader. gratuitous itoshi brothers angst. probably ooc. second person pov.

note: idea taken from vvallent1ne, who did with genshin characters! check them out!

isagi yoichi is an easy man to win over once you break through the initial barrier. he’s the type to isolate himself from the crowd, not because he necessarily wants to but because he doesn’t feel like he fits in most places. yoichi has learned how to put on a mask to follow the leader, per the japanese way. take the time to reach out and show genuine interest in his likes! his loner persona will come off quick.

it’s best not to come off too forward with yoichi. while it might earn a cute blush on his face, showing your interest so early and boldly might scare him off. it’s all in the little things! a shy touch here or a couple sweet compliments will get him, slowly but surely!

there’s a little more work you need to do to win over sweet meguru. you need to interest him. stand out in some way that’ll get his attention. it helps if you’re also a kind of outcast because it gives you a ground to relate. meguru likes new, intriguing, and exciting, but it’s still best to stay true to yourself. the initial interest is important, but meguru values authenticity.

the biggest thing is getting his trust, as well as keeping it. meguru has a hard time keeping friends because of his personality, but he also can’t change himself. it’s not enough to say his “weirdness” doesn’t matter to you, you should embrace it wholeheartedly. as long as he knows you not just accept him but value him, he’ll do the same in return.

itoshi rin is undoubtedly the hardest one to win over. you’ll have to be persistent! he won’t fall for some hard-to-get nonsense or chase you down in the beginning. you need to be the one to seek him out. as aggressive and emotionless as he may act, his true intent seeps through easily. look into those signs and find what he’s trying to say beyond his words. itoshi rin is cold but he isn’t made of steel. deep down, there’s a kid in him wondering who left his older brother in spain and the man that’s taken his place. 

rin is sensitive, kind, and pure. it’s just a matter of inching it out of the cocoon he’s put himself in. you can’t fix him; that’s something he has to confront himself. but if you can provide a safe space that’ll resemble the peace he felt years ago, it might make it easier.

mikage reo has seen them all: admirers, socialites, modern royalty, and so on. he has to deal with people vying for his attention every day, so you’ve got tough competition. if you really want to win him over, you need to stand out. let him know that you’re different, that you see him beyond the money and status. you don’t have to impress him with anything fancy, just give him something genuine. 

billionaire heir reo might seem unreachable, but that’s what everyone wants you to think. you know there’s more to that “prince charming”, and you’re going to pull it out of him if it’s that’s the last thing you do.

fin.

[this-is-a-name-dont-worry]

I think if there's ever a human Perry episode, it should be in two parts, so we really get to enjoy Perry with the kids AND some Perryschmitz moments

It starts like a normal episode, but we see Perry a bit regretful to have to leave discreetly and not enjoy the kids' invention of today. After Doof traps Perry, he explains how he tried to level the fighting field in the past by turning himself into a platypus, but it was a bad idea as he's not used to a platypus body, so he obviously was at a disadvantage! So, instead, he will turn PERRY into a human! unused to that body, he'll be at a disadvantage and Doofenschmirtz will finally win!

He does that, they dont fight immediately because Doof makes comments and asks Perry if he can say something so he can hear his voice. Perry obviously refuses.

Fight is easily over, Perry writes to Doof to turn him back now, Doof goes to do it while protesting, says "You know, it's a good thing we didn't accidentally hit the self-destruct but-!" click, he accidentally hit the self destruct button while leaning on the machine. Perry is pissed.

Their fighting is interrupted by Vanessa and Candace coming in (Vanessa was dropping by to get something quick). Perry panicks, goes in dumb platypus mode but as a human, which immediately weirds out Candace, then when Doof is about to say he's Perry the Platypus to Vanessa, Perry jumps to cover Doof's mouth so he'd stop talking. It looks awkward so Candace says she'll wait for Vanessa outside, with all the teenage judgement she can muster in her voice.

Doof explains the situation to Vanessa, she finds it very funny and teases Perry, then offers that while her dad works on the dehumaninator, Perry can hang out with her and Candace, she'll find an excuse. Perry agrees after some pushing.

The girls (and Perry) inevitably end up being wrapped up in the boys shenanigans of the day.

Phineas: "Hey Vanessa who's that?"

Vanessa: "Oh that's Perry, my father's good friend"

Phineas: "Cool! Our platypus is also named Perry! I wonder where he is .."

Candace: "His good friend, you say?"

Time is spent seeing everyone (and like really everyone) having fun with Phineas and Ferb's creation (which of course covers the whole town. I'm thinking a gigantic fair themed around Phineas, Ferb, and their friends (and of course Candace too)). Many times, Perry shows appreciation for something Perry likes, which prompts the boys (and sometimes Candace) to comment about their pet and have a little "He'd love this do much, I miss him" moment. And Perry is very emotional over it.

Then, Doof arrives, it was pretty easy to make the dehumaninator, and he even made it a transportable model so he can change Perry right now! Perry keeps him from changing him though, he knows that turning him back into a platypus in front of his boys would blow his cover (and maybe he wants to enjoy a bit more the opportunity of hanging out with his family...). They ask Vanessa to help isolating them so Doof can use the inator, but Candace surprises them as Vanessa repeats she'll help get the two of them alone! Pay off for her remark earlier: she completely misinterprets it and thinks they're trying to be alone for romantic reasons. Doof wants to protest, but Perry indicates him to roll with it. Stacy gets involved because Candace can't shut her mouth about it, and she decides to help because she guessed it was Perry (or maybe they got a moment to communicate)

It is now several moments where the girls successfully isolate Doof and Perry, but they're always interrupted by one thing or the other right before Doof can use the inator (and often, the interruption is the kids). The day starts to end, they visit the final area of the fair which is themed around Perry, and for this whole time he is just enjoying spending time with his family, without jumping to the opportunity to sneak off. Finally the day ends, everyone is in the backyard as the fair closes down forever, they have a few backyard activities that Linda thinks was the boys' fair. She calls everyone to go get pie, and so everyone goes inside.

It's only Doof, Perry, and Vanessa. Vanessa says that she will go enjoy that pie now, and gives the nemesis a look to say "now's the time!". She leaves, awkward silent moment where the two look at each other.

"Well.. I guess now's the time, huh?"

"..."

"I'll turn you back into a platypus now."

He fiddles a bit with the machine setting, points it to Perry.

"Are you sure you don't want to speak? Even once?"

Perry makes no with his head with a sassy smile.

"Well, I guess that's how it is then...! ... you know, even if it was nice seeing Perry the Human, I've missed Perry the Platypus, so... I promise I won't turn you into a human again. Unless you ask me to! Erm, anyway..."

He starts the movement to press the button.

"Yeah, no way. But it was fun being a human for one day. Thank you."

"Wait did you-"

Movement ends, button is pressed, Perry is a platypus again.

He leaves through the backyard entrance to the lair, and Doofenschmirtz goes to join Vanessa.

The boys are explaining their day; "Oh hey where's your friend?"

"Oh uh he went home..."

"Aw, too bad... Ah, there you are Perry!" chatters "Today, we met a guy named like you! He was really nice!"

Happy chatters

Ferb one line: "Who would even name a human Perry?"

DUN!

[star-vader-dio]

Haha

Happy birthday to my first real bias may it be full of joy and merriment

The smell of vanilla cake and sugar frosting filled the cramped apartment like it had been summoned—like sweetness itself had RSVP’d for the five-year-old’s birthday and was now lounging on the couch, waiting for a slice.

Diobronto “Dio” Castillo crouched by the coffee table, one hand steadying a flickering candle shaped like a cartoon dinosaur, the other hidden behind his back, clutching a juice box like it was a rare treasure.

“Okay, kiddo. You ready?” he asked, smiling at the tiny girl perched on the edge of the couch cushion like a queen on a throne.

Lily, in all her pigtail-and-tutu glory, clapped her hands but didn’t smile. She was watching him carefully, seriously—the way she watched cartoons she didn’t understand yet but wanted to. Her brown eyes flicked from the cake to him and back again, calculating something heavy in her five-year-old brain.

“Where’s Mommy and Daddy?” she asked, voice small but direct. “They were supposed to be back two days ago.”

Dio froze for just a second—a flicker, like a shadow passing over the sun—then softened his smile. “They’re still on the boat, remember? Sailing through the Bahamas. Maybe petting dolphins. Maybe stuck in some weird Bermuda Triangle clouds.”

Lily frowned, unconvinced. “Daddy said he’d call me.”

“He did,” Dio said gently, sitting cross-legged now. The candlelight danced between them like it was trying to lighten the mood. “But guess what? I’m here. And I brought pineapple juice and the dino cake. Can your dad do that?”

Lily thought about it, visibly torn between principle and pastry. “Daddy says cake is for after broccoli.”

Dio leaned in like he was sharing a top-secret government file. “Yeah, well, your dad’s lame.”

Lily giggled—finally. A full-bellied, snotty-nosed, candle-wobbling laugh that made Dio’s shoulders drop in quiet relief.

She blew out the candle with all the intensity of someone making a very serious wish. Dio clapped, handed her the juice box, and tried not to think—really think—about how long it had been since the last voicemail. About how “they’re just off the grid” was getting harder to say with confidence.

For now, she had her juice, her dino cake, and a godfather who knew how to braid her hair, patch her scraped knees, and sing the lullaby her mother used to hum at bedtime.

And maybe—for a while—that would be enough.

⸻

Five Years Later

It had been nearly five years since Nigel and Sarah disappeared somewhere in the waters between the Bahamas and the Bermuda Triangle. Five years of whispers, theories, hope turned to silence. And three years since Diobronto Castillo had officially become Lily’s father.

Stepping up hadn’t been easy. It never is, especially when people don’t understand. He’d left behind his job, his apartment in Seattle, and most of the life he’d built to move back to Orange County. To minimize the chaos for Lily. To anchor her in something familiar when everything else had capsized.

Some friends vanished in the wake—unable or unwilling to wrap their heads around a single man raising a child that wasn’t his by blood. Others—especially Lily’s grandparents—fought the will’s instructions tooth and nail, but Nigel and Sarah had made it clear: Dio was to be her guardian if the worst ever happened. So he did what needed to be done.

And, somehow, it worked.

Against every odd and expectation, the perpetually single,godfather made an exceptional parent. Under Dio’s watchful, if sometimes stern, guidance, Lily had blossomed. She spoke three languages, played one and a half instruments (the cello, and sort of the piano), and was becoming a quick-footed standout on her youth soccer team. She had her mother’s fierce intelligence and her father’s curiosity—but it was Dio’s steadiness she leaned on the most.

People still stared sometimes—at the practices, the parent-teacher nights, the grocery store aisles—but Lily never seemed to notice. She only saw her dad.

And Dio? He had long since stopped caring who approved. In service of his commitment to Lily he had gone out of his way to make sure she wasn’t sad on her birthday which led to numerous different parties and celebration, but as her tenth birthday neared she got something even bigger tickets to Korea and her favorite group Illit.

The apartment was a mess—but a happy mess. Open suitcases littered the living room like molting turtles, half-stuffed with clothes, chargers, Korean phrasebooks, and enough skincare samples to open a tiny boutique.

Dio stood over one of the suitcases, holding up a jacket with a puzzled look. “Okay, tell me again why we’re bringing three hoodies to a spring concert in Seoul?”

Lily, now ten and already exuding the steady confidence of someone with Very Specific Opinions, didn’t even look up from the checklist she was scribbling on the fridge whiteboard. “Because one is for me, one is for the group picture, and one is in case I get cold in the stadium. It’s air-conditioned.”

Dio raised an eyebrow. “You think you’re going to get cold from excitement or from the thousands of screaming teenagers vibrating at the frequency of teen devotion?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who said, ‘Pack smart, not just cute.’”

“I said that while holding a pair of socks, not a full wardrobe of fan gear.”

She shot him a look, then grinned. “You’re just jealous because I look better in pastels than you do.”

Dio smirked, conceding the point. “True. But I’m not the one dragging half a pharmacy’s worth of lip balm to another country.”

Lily turned back to her list, smile fading just a little as she capped the marker and leaned her forehead against the fridge. “It’s not just about the concert,” she said quietly. “I want to see everything—like the palaces, the cafés, the river walk. But mostly…” She hesitated. “I just want this to feel big. Like… a birthday I’ll remember forever.”

Dio straightened up, softening. “It will be. I promise.”

She looked at him, something a little older and sadder in her eyes now. “They went missing the week of my birthday. You remember that, right?”

He nodded, slow. “Yeah, I remember.”

“I don’t want to be sad every year when this week comes around. I don’t want to hate it.” She hugged herself, voice just above a whisper. “Sometimes I feel like… maybe I already do. A little.”

Dio crossed the room and crouched down beside her, hand resting gently on her back. “Hey. Look at me.”

She did.

“We’re doing this trip for a reason. Not just because you love Illit or because I secretly love their choreography—don’t tell anyone—but because you deserve joy, Lily. Not guilt. Not weight. You didn’t cause anything. You hear me?”

She nodded.

“This week doesn’t belong to tragedy. It belongs to you. We’re rewriting it. Starting now.”

Lily didn’t say anything at first, just leaned into his side with a deep breath, forehead resting on his shoulder. Dio held still, like she might crack if he moved too fast.

After a moment, she pulled back and sniffed. “You’re gonna cry if they do ‘Lucky Girl Syndrome,’ huh?”

“I’m already crying thinking about how much those concert tickets cost,” he teased, making her laugh through her tears.

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and stood up straighter. “Okay. No more sad stuff. We’ve got a plane to catch and a bias to scream for.”

“Exactly,” Dio said, ruffling her hair. “Now hand me the glitter nail polish and promise you’ll teach me the fan chant one more time.”

She grinned, grabbing the tiny bottle and waving it at him like a wand. “Only if you wear the matching lightstick bracelet.”

Outside, the sun dipped lower, casting soft gold light across the room. Inside, they packed not just for a trip, but for a new kind of memory. One stitched together by music, hope, and the kind of love that refuses to let grief take root.

And Dio? He kept smiling—for her. Always for her.

Because if he could help it, Lily would never grow up afraid of birthdays.

The hum of the airplane engines had settled into a steady white noise, somewhere between soothing and sleep-inducing. The cabin lights were dimmed, casting everything in soft blue. Most of the passengers were asleep or trying to be, tucked under scratchy blankets with neck pillows askew.

Lily was curled up in her window seat, oversized headphones covering her ears, the faint sound of Illit bleeding through. Her eyelids drooped in that stubborn, mid-flight way—too tired to stay awake, too excited to give in.

Dio sat beside her, a half-read in-flight magazine in his lap, watching her with quiet affection. She looked so small again in that moment, her forehead leaning against the glass, the glow of the wing light reflecting in her eyes. A few minutes passed in peace.

Then—

“Hey, Dio?” she said, pulling one headphone off.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

She hesitated, picking at the edge of her blanket. “How come you don’t, like… date anyone?”

Dio blinked. Of all the questions to get ambushed with at 30,000 feet, that hadn’t cracked the top twenty. “Wow. Uh. We’re not even through snacks yet.”

She shrugged, nonchalant. “I just don’t get it. You’re cool. You cook. You’re funny. You know so much random stuff.”

“Well, I appreciate the review,” Dio said with a soft laugh. “But… it’s kind of complicated.”

Lily tilted her head. “How?”

He looked out the window for a second, then back at her. “Most women out there, they’re not exactly lining up to date a single dad. Especially one who’s not… well, not really traditional.”

“But you’re not my real dad,” she said quietly, not in a mean way—just stating the fact.

Dio nodded. “I know. But I am your dad. The one who picks you up from school, helps with math, makes birthday pancakes, and screams lyrics at your concerts. And that’s the kind of dad who’s all-in. That kind of all-in doesn’t leave a lot of room for someone else, unless they’re really ready for it.”

Lily was quiet for a moment.

“That’s dumb,” she said finally. “They’re missing out.”

Dio smiled, warmth pooling in his chest. “Well, maybe one day someone smart will figure that out.”

She yawned and leaned over, resting her head lightly against his arm. “You should still try. You’re too awesome to be alone forever.”

He didn’t answer right away—just looked down at the top of her head, resting there like it belonged. Like it always had.

“I’m not alone,” he said softly, almost to himself.

She was already halfway asleep again, but she murmured, “Still dumb…”

Dio leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and let the hum of the plane and her breathing lull him into a quiet place. Thirty thousand feet in the air, with a kid who thought he hung the moon and wasn’t afraid to ask the hard stuff.

Yeah. He wasn’t alone.

Not even close. A few minutes later Lily was passed out on Dio’s shoulder he chuckled as his daughter rested and the flight continued on its journey.

The plane touched down at Incheon International Airport just past 6 a.m., the horizon outside the window streaked in soft gold and cotton-pink clouds. Lily was practically vibrating in her seat.

“Dio, wake up. We’re in Korea. Wake. Up.” She shook his arm like a soda can.

“I’m awake,” Dio mumbled, still half-dreaming about overhead bin instructions. “I never slept.”

“You drooled on your travel pillow.”

“Don’t spread that slander on foreign soil.”

They shuffled off the plane with the rest of the groggy passengers, Lily darting ahead to get a better view of the terminal. Dio followed behind, tugging their carry-on, hoodie wrapped around his neck like a defeated scarf. His brain was still somewhere over the Pacific, but Lily’s adrenaline had clearly kicked in.

As they reached the jet bridge, a soft commotion ahead caught Dio’s attention—nothing major, just a few flight attendants glancing, whispering, politely grinning. Then he saw her.

She was trying to move discreetly, sunglasses over her eyes, hair tucked into a hoodie that still somehow looked expensive. A sleek carry-on in one hand, iced Americano in the other. She looked familiar, but Dio couldn’t place her—at least not until Lily nearly gasped herself inside out.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, grabbing Dio’s sleeve. “That’s Kim Dahyun.”

“Huh?”

“From TWICE. That’s literally Dahyun. She was on our flight and you slept through it!”

Dio blinked. Then glanced again.

She caught them looking.

And then—because life is weird and small and sometimes unexpectedly cinematic—she smiled.

Dio smiled back, awkwardly but genuinely. He nodded a little, casual. Not the kind of nod that screamed I’ve seen every fancam you’ve ever been in, but the kind you give someone you’ve genuinely enjoyed watching from afar.

Then his carry-on handle gave out with a dramatic snap, and his bag slumped over with the sad, slow dignity of a folding chair after a party.

“Smooth,” he muttered.

Dahyun laughed—a quiet, caught-off-guard kind of sound. And then, before she could think better of it, she stepped closer.

“Jet lag and cheap luggage,” she said, nodding at the collapsed bag. “Brutal combo.”

Dio crouched to fix it, chuckling. “Don’t worry. It only does this when I’m in front of beautiful strangers in foreign countries.”

Lily stared at him like he’d just performed unsanctioned surgery.

Dahyun raised an eyebrow behind her sunglasses, clearly amused. “You’re not from here.”

“That obvious?”

“Yes. You give off… dad energy.”

“Yeah,” Lily cut in proudly. “He’s my dad. And this is my early birthday trip. We’re here for the Illit concert.”

Dahyun turned her smile toward Lily. “Happy early birthday. You’ve got a cool dad.”

Lily blinked at her, some new suspicion glinting behind her eyes. “Thanks. He’s single, too.”

Dio nearly dropped the suitcase again. “LILY.”

“What? You are.”

Dahyun laughed, shaking her head as she pulled up her mask and turned to walk. “Well, single cool dad—welcome to Korea.”

And just like that, she vanished into the terminal crowd, a phantom in Nikes and stardust.

Lily smirked up at Dio. “You’re blushing.”

“I am jet-lagged.”

“You said that in a way that definitely means you’re blushing.”

Dio adjusted the suitcase and motioned forward. “Come on, future K-pop star. Let’s go try not to get deported before breakfast.”

But as they walked toward immigration, he glanced back once, half-expecting to see her again.

She was gone.

Still, his smile lingered.

Later, at breakfast…

Dio reached for the check and flipped open his wallet.

There, wedged between his emergency $20 and an expired museum pass, was a folded piece of paper he definitely hadn’t put there.

He blinked. Unfolded it.

Scrawled in tight, clean handwriting:

Call me – Dahyun +82-XXX-XXXX

“What’s that?” Lily asked, eyeing him.

“Nothing,” he replied—far too quickly.

Lily squinted, then gasped. “OH. MY. GOD.”

“Lily—”

“Is that her number?! Did she ninja you?! Are we in a K-drama right now?!”

“I… didn’t even see her get near my pocket,” Dio muttered, stunned.

“She ninja’d you, Dio. You got ninja’d by Dahyun from TWICE.”

Dio stared at the note. “Do idols even… do this?”

“She did.” Lily was practically vibrating. “Are you gonna call her?”

“I don’t know. That feels… bold.”

“She gave you her number. She started it. You’re just pressing play.”

He exhaled and tucked it carefully into his wallet like it was state treasure. “Well… welcome to Korea, I guess.”

Lily leaned back in her chair, triumphant. “This is so going in the vlog.”

After breakfast and a long nap, Dio lay staring at the ceiling while Lily snored gently in the other bed. The paper burned in his wallet like it knew it was being avoided.

Finally, he gave in.

He dialed.

“Hello?” came her voice, warm and slightly amused.

Dio cleared his throat. “Um—Dahyun? It’s Dio. We met on the plane?”

“Oh!” She sounded pleased. “I was starting to think you’d chicken out.”

“Well, it’s a little surreal. I mean, not every day you get a number from someone you’ve been following since…well, your daughter’s dance recital phase.”

Dahyun giggled. “Well, it’s not every day I meet a cute young dad. Very improper of you, by the way. Having a child before marriage.”

Dio laughed. “Lucky for you, I didn’t. Lily’s my goddaughter. I adopted her when her parents went missing.”

There was a pause. “Wait—seriously?”

He explained. April Fool’s Day. A cruise through the Bermuda Triangle. A call that never came. The long, strange climb from ‘uncle’ to ‘dad.’

“Wow,” Dahyun said softly. “That’s… that’s a lot.”

“Yeah. But it’s life. And she’s everything now.”

There was another beat, and then Dahyun brightened. “Then how about you both come to a little show we’re doing tonight? Backstage passes, VIP, the works.”

Dio laughed. “Careful, Mrs. Kim. I’m starting to think you’re flirting with me.”

“So what if I am?” she replied, a smile in her voice.

Dio stared at the phone, shaking his head, a grin slowly forming.

“I guess,” he said, “we’ll see you tonight.”

The backstage area of KSPO Dome was a maze of cables, dancers in half-costumes, frantic staff, and the kind of coordinated chaos that only came with live music and high stakes. Lily looked like she’d been zapped with lightning—her Illit hoodie swapped out for a Twice one, her lanyard badge swinging like a trophy.

Dio, on the other hand, looked like someone who had wandered in by accident.

“This is so cool,” Lily whispered, clutching her little camera. “I can’t believe we’re backstage at a Twice show. I’m gonna scream. I’m gonna cry. I’m gonna manifest.”

“Manifest away,” Dio said, tugging at his collar. “I’m just trying not to pass out.”

“Because of the lights? Or because of Dahyun?”

“Lily.”

“I’m just saying. You already called her. That’s step one. This is, like, step five. Flirting in the wild.”

Before Dio could argue, a familiar voice cut through the hallway din like a clean guitar riff.

“Look who actually came.”

Dahyun strolled toward them, hair in soft waves, makeup flawless but not too heavy. She wore her stage outfit like it was just another Tuesday—jacket slung over one shoulder, in-ear monitors looped casually around her neck.

Dio, for once, couldn’t think of anything smart to say. So Lily filled in the gap.

“As if I was gonna miss out on a free concert,” she said excitedly and Dahyun smiled

“I was gonna make you wait till after the show,” she said, stopping in front of him. “But then I figured—why wait?”

Lily coughed. Loudly. “Hi Miss Kim. I’m just gonna… pretend I don’t hear anything right now.”

Dahyun winked at her, then looked back at Dio. “You look better without the jet lag. Still carrying that broken suitcase charm, though.”

“It’s my signature,” he managed, trying to sound cool and not like his brain had just hit a blue screen.

A staff member waved Dahyun over from the other hallway. She glanced at them, then back at Dio.

“I gotta go on soon,” she said. “But after the show, stick around. There’s a private hangout for the crew and friends. You two are both on the list.”

“Friends?” Dio echoed.

“Well, you’re not a fanboy,” she teased, stepping closer—close enough that he could smell her perfume, something soft and citrusy. “Yet.”

Lily’s eyebrows were practically in orbit now.

“And if you play your cards right, I might even let you hold the lightstick.”

“I—I’m honored.”

“I know.”

And just like that, she turned and walked away, leaving Dio standing there like a stunned NPC.

Lily leaned over, whispering with maximum judgment: “You’re blushing again.”

“I’m in a pressure cooker of LED screens and teen hormones, I think I’m allowed.”

“You like her.”

“I’m terrified of her.”

“She so likes you.”

Dio looked toward the stage, where the show was about to begin, and shook his head with a bemused smile. “If I survive this concert, I’m buying us both ten-dollar corn dogs.”

“Deal,” Lily grinned, already pulling out her phone. “Now shut up, the queens are about to start.”

The lights dimmed, the crowd roared, and as the first note hit, Dio tried to focus on the music—but he could feel it already:

This wasn’t just a trip anymore.

It was the start of something.

The stadium pulsed with color, light, and sound—an electric current of thousands of fans moving in unison like one giant heart beating to the rhythm of the stage. Dio stood backstage, just off the wings, with Lily practically glued to the edge of the curtain, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She wore her Illit light stick around her wrist like a badge of honor, cheeks flushed pink from excitement.

“This is insane,” she whispered, eyes wide as fireworks burst above the crowd and dancers twirled like a kaleidoscope of glitter and precision.

Dio smiled, arms crossed, more focused on Lily’s joy than the show itself. “You good, kid?”

She looked up at him like she was dreaming. “I’m transcending.”

He chuckled. “Okay, Buddha. Let me know if you float off into the void.”

Just then, the screen behind the stage shifted to a new setlist graphic—indicating a short intermission—and crew members scurried to change the stage setup. One of the side doors opened, and Dahyun slipped in, fresh from her first outfit change, a glimmering purple jacket slung over her shoulders, hair slightly damp from dancing.

She caught Dio’s eye immediately.

“Well, well,” she said, smoothing a flyaway strand as she walked toward him, “still here. Not vaporized by teen energy.”

Dio smiled. “I’m holding up. Barely.”

Lily spun around. “Dahyun! You’re amazing out there!”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Dahyun winked. “You enjoying your birthday trip?”

“I think this is the best night of my life.”

Dahyun looked back at Dio, her expression softening. “She’s a lucky kid.”

He held her gaze for a second too long. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m the lucky one.”

She smiled. “Careful, you keep saying stuff like that, I’ll think you’re flirting back.”

“I’m just jet-lagged,” he deadpanned.

“Mm-hmm.” Dahyun laughed. “I’ll be back again after the ballad set. Don’t disappear on me.”

“Where would I go? The view’s pretty good from here.”

As she disappeared into the dressing area again, Lily turned slowly, arms crossed like a tiny general. “Jet-lagged, huh?”

“Don’t.”

“She likes you.”

Dio sighed, ruffling her hair. “She’s being nice.”

“She gave you backstage passes. She changed outfits and came here. That’s not just nice, Dio.”

“Lily.”

“She’s gonna marry you and I’m gonna be your maid of honor,” Lily declared.

“Oh my god, eat a churro or something.”

Another wave of cheers echoed as the lights dimmed again. Lily whipped back toward the stage with a breathless gasp. A soft ballad started—the kind with airy harmonies and twinkling piano—and even Dio had to admit, the group had range.

Midway through the song, Dahyun walked past them again, this time in a flowing white outfit, ethereal under the stage lights. She didn’t stop, just let her fingers brush lightly against Dio’s as she passed.

Lily’s jaw dropped. “Did she just—Dio. Dio.”

He said nothing, just smiled, face faintly pink in the dark.

By the end of the show, Lily had half-lost her voice from screaming, her phone memory was full, and Dio couldn’t stop glancing toward the backstage hallway.

As the lights rose and the crowd roared for the encore, Lily leaned against his arm and whispered, “This is so much better than cake.”

And for once, Dio had to agree.

The after-party was tucked into the glowing rooftop of a high-rise lounge overlooking the city. Seoul shimmered beneath them like a spilled jewelry box—full of motion and music. The air was rich with laughter, champagne bubbles, and the bass of a laid-back DJ set pulsing just below conversation level.

Dio stood near the balcony doors, nursing a sparkling water while keeping a relaxed but ever-watchful eye on Lily across the room.

She was deep in a dance circle with three members of TWICE—Mina, Jihyo, and Momo. The latter looked especially impressed as Lily nailed a few Illit choreos, her pigtails bouncing in perfect sync.

“She’s a little star,” Dahyun said, sidling up next to Dio with two small cups of ginger tea. “They’re already trying to recruit her.”

Dio grinned and took the tea. “I saw. She’s eating it up. God help me if she starts asking for a trainee contract.”

“You’d let her, though.”

He looked at her. “In a heartbeat.”

Dahyun leaned closer. “You’re different than I expected.”

“How so?”

“I figured you’d be funny or cool or even charming. But… you’re full of grief. And love. And you don’t try to hide either.”

Dio’s smirk faltered slightly. Before he could answer, his phone buzzed in his jacket.

Daniel. That name, in that font—the old wound reopened.

He stepped away a bit, lifting the phone to his ear. “What?”

Daniel’s voice was too calm. “They found them.”

Dio’s stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?”

“Nigel and Sarah. They were rescued off some uncharted island near the Bahamas. Coast Guard report just hit the wire. They’re alive.”

Dio’s mouth dried out. “Are you—are you sure?”

“Yeah, man. I’m not calling to fight. Just thought you should know. I figured… Lily should hear it from you.”

The call ended before Dio could reply.

He stood there for a long moment, the sounds of the party suddenly distant and echoey, like he was underwater. The lights, the people, the music—it all blurred. His hand clenched around the cup of tea. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding onto the idea that they were never coming back.

“Hey.”

Dahyun was in front of him now, eyes scanning his face. She lowered her voice. “What happened?”

He blinked back into reality. “I—I just got a call. Lily’s parents… they’re alive.”

Dahyun’s brows lifted in stunned silence. “What?”

“They found them. After five years.”

She looked like she didn’t know what to say. “Do you want to sit down?”

He shook his head, forcing a smile. “No. No, I just—needed to breathe.”

Across the room, Lily giggled as Momo did a goofy victory dance, earning cheers from the girls.

She looked over then, spotting Dio, and waved with her whole arm like she was signaling a plane.

He waved back, smile flickering just enough for Dahyun to notice.

“She doesn’t know yet?” Dahyun asked softly.

“No. Not tonight,” he said quickly. “Not while she’s happy. I—I don’t want her to associate this place or this trip with confusion or fear. Her birthday’s in three days.”

Dahyun placed a hand gently on his arm. “You’re a good father.”

“I’m just trying to make her feel safe for as long as I can.”

“You’ve been her entire world,” she whispered. “That doesn’t vanish because someone else survived.”

He looked at her then—really looked. There was no spotlight on them, no cameras, no idol persona. Just a woman who had seen something in him, and maybe still did.

Before he could answer, Momo approached with Lily’s hand in hers. “She needs the restroom,” she said cheerily. “We’re off to adventure.”

Dio nodded with a grateful smile, watching Lily disappear around the corner, humming.

Dahyun stayed beside him, quiet, waiting.

And for the first time since the call, Dio let his breath shake on the exhale.

Seoul, 2:12 AM. Was when it finally happened

The hotel room was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of the bedside clock and the faint spill of city light from the balcony curtains. Lily was fast asleep, curled beneath the covers with one hand sticking out like a little flag of surrender. Her face still held traces of leftover glitter from the party, and her lips moved faintly with dreams.

Dio sat at the small table by the window, sipping bottled water and staring blankly out at the skyline. His phone buzzed once, twice.

Unknown Number (U.S.)

He hesitated. Then picked it up.

“…Hello?”

A familiar voice crackled through—older now, worn by time, but unmistakable.

“Dio? It’s Nigel.”

Dio sat up straighter, heart skipping. “Nigel.”

Then came the second voice—gentler, more tentative. “And Sarah. We’re both here.”

A long silence bloomed between them, neither knowing how to begin. The sound of a Korean car horn in the distance filled the static.

“Where are you?” Sarah asked softly.

“In Seoul. On a birthday trip for Lily.”

“She’s still… with you?”

“Well yeah She’s my daughter,” Dio said simply.

A pause.

“When do you get back? What happened while we were gone. When we got back Albert and Daniel said you disappeared with Lily?” Nigel asked, confusion tightening his voice. “Daniel, Joseph, Albert—they all said you disappeared. That you stopped talking to everyone.”

Dio clenched his jaw. “April 1st Yeah. I did. After they decided I wasn’t good enough to be your daughter’s dad.”

“What are you talking about? If any one was good enough it was you,” Sarah asked, incredulous.

“Well they listened to Nigel’s mom. They treated me like I kidnapped her,” Dio said, the bitterness finally bleeding through. “Your mom tried to take her from me. Took me to court. Accused me of manipulation, of financial coercion, of not being fit. You know who testified against me? Albert and his wife. Friends. People I’d known for a decade plus.”

Silence.

“You really didn’t know? Actually I’m not surprised why would they tell you it looks really bad,” Dio asked quietly.

“No,” Nigel said, stunned. “I—we didn’t know any of this.”

Dio pulled out his phone, his hands tight around it, and scrolled through a folder he hadn’t touched in years. Screenshots. Emails. One message in particular from four years ago.

He read it aloud, voice low but trembling:

“We love you, Dio, but you’re not the right person to raise Lily. She needs a woman. A real family. We can’t support this anymore. Maybe this custody fight is a wake-up call. Let her go.”

Sent by Albert and Marissa, dated July 28, 2021. Right when Dio was testifying alone in family court, juggling work, CPS visits, and a child who cried every night for parents he couldn’t replace.

Sarah gasped.

Nigel didn’t speak.

“They abandoned me and abandoned her,” Dio said quietly. “But I didn’t abandon her.”

More silence. Not the kind that follows awkwardness, but the kind that comes after a bomb drops.

“We… we didn’t know,” Nigel finally said. “ Daniel didn’t tell us that happened.”

“Well Nigel’s mon tried to erase me. They helped her. But I fought back, because Lily needed someone. And no one else stepped up. And after hearing your horror stories I knew I could do better than that.”

Dio stared at the sleeping child on the bed, voice softening. “And now you’re alive. And I’m not mad about that—I’m relieved. But I won’t let anyone treat those five years like they didn’t happen.”

Sarah sniffled faintly on the line.

“She’s going to want to talk to you,” Dio added. “She deserves that. But you need to understand something—I raised her. I held her hand through night terrors, first steps, first words without you. I earned her trust one day at a time. So if we’re doing this… if we’re reintegrating… it’s going to be on her terms. Not yours.”

Nigel let out a long, rattled breath. “Okay.”

Sarah whispered, “Okay.”

Dio didn’t say goodbye. He just hung up. Then sat there, staring at the skyline for a long time. His heartbeat thumped heavy in his ears, but slowly, it faded. And in the quiet, he glanced over at Lily.

She shifted in her sleep and whispered, “Dio…” like she could feel the weight in the room, even in dreams.

He stood, walked over, and pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders. Then leaned down, kissed the crown of her head, and whispered back—

“I’m still here.”

The sunlight slipped lazily through the hotel curtains, streaking golden lines across the carpet. Lily was sprawled on the couch, wearing a half-on Illit hoodie and munching on shrimp chips while editing her “K-Trip Vlog: Day 2” footage on Dio’s old iPad.

Dio was sitting on the edge of the bed, freshly showered but visibly frayed at the edges. His phone buzzed with a contact saved last night: Dahyun (Still Real)

He stared at it for a second, then picked up.

“Good morning, mystery man,” Dahyun’s bright voice chimed through the line. “You two awake yet?”

“Barely,” Dio said, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Feels like I’ve aged ten years in one night.”lily perked up hearing that and narrowed her eyes but diverted her attention when a comment popped up on her video

“Yikes. That bad?”

“Little existential dread with a side of jet lag. Classic.”

Dahyun’s tone softened just a notch. “Wanna come out and let me fix your day?”

He hesitated.

“I was thinking,” she continued, “shopping, sightseeing, maybe some street food. Lily can pick out anything she wants—I’m in a spoiling mood.”

Dio chuckled, finally smiling. “You trying to bribe my daughter into liking you?”

“She already does,” Dahyun said smugly. “Last night she said I was her second favorite member of Twice. I’ll take it.”

Dio glanced over at Lily, who was now trying to add sparkly transition effects between clips of Dio awkwardly dancing at the after party. “Uh… I don’t know we have a lot on our plate today and I had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Which is why you both need a day that doesn’t suck,” Dahyun said gently. “Let me do this, Dio. Not as a K-pop star. Just as me.”

He paused again, but this time, it wasn’t hesitation. It was a quiet kind of gratitude.

“Alright,” he said. “You pick the place. We’ll meet you there.”

A few hours later — Myeongdong Shopping District

Lily stood in front of a row of claw machines, arms crossed, analyzing her options like a military strategist. Dahyun crouched beside her, dressed down in oversized sunglasses, a denim bucket hat, and a white hoodie that still somehow screamed idol, despite her best efforts to blend in.

“Okay,” she said, feeding the machine. “I’m gonna win that pink alpaca if it kills me.”

“You said that six tries ago,” Lily teased.

“Positive thinking, kiddo.”

Dio leaned against the window, watching the scene with a quiet smile, hands tucked into his coat pockets. He couldn’t remember the last time Lily looked so… light. Carefree. Like her smile didn’t have to carry anything.

Dahyun finally managed to snag the plush on her seventh try, shrieking triumphantly and handing it to Lily like she’d just won an Olympic medal.

“Boom. Rich Auntie Dahyun delivers.”

Lily hugged the alpaca tight. “You’re rich and persistent. I respect that.”

Dio barked a laugh. “God help me, she’s going to be insufferable after this.”

Dahyun grinned and gently nudged Dio as they walked between boutiques, letting Lily explore a cosmetics shop up ahead. “So… how are you really?”

Dio took a breath, then exhaled slowly. “They called me. Nigel and Sarah.”

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah. First time in five years. They’re alive. Apparently they were stranded in some bizarre satellite dead zone on this island near Bermuda. Got rescued last a few days ago.”

Dahyun’s brows knit together. “That’s… wild.”

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following Lily. “Now they’re back. And I’m trying to process what that means for Lily. For me. For everything.”

Dahyun was quiet a moment, then bumped his shoulder. “She loves you. That won’t change.”

Dio’s voice was low. “But it might have to.”

“No,” Dahyun said firmly. “They might’ve come back. But you stayed. You stepped up when everyone else didn’t. That’s not something that gets undone.”

Dio looked at her then—really looked at her—and something in his chest eased, even if just for a moment.

“Thanks,” he said. “For today.”

“You’re welcome,” Dahyun replied, smiling gently. “You both deserved something good.”

They watched as Lily ran out of the shop with free samples in one hand and the plush alpaca in the other.

“I named it Jeongyeon,” she declared, holding it up like Simba.

Dahyun laughed. “Iconic.”

And for the first time in what felt like hours, Dio let himself feel okay. After the lovely date and lunch Dahyun decided to pull some strings after hearing that Dio and Lily were going to see Illit.

The venue buzzed like a hive of electricity—lightsticks pulsed in candy-colored waves, fans chanted in perfect synchronicity, and the air shimmered with the anticipation of idols about to appear.

Lily, decked out in a brand-new Illit hoodie, sparkly face gems, and a pink lightstick she gripped like a royal scepter, looked like she might ascend into orbit.

“This is better than Disneyland,” she whispered, trembling with awe. “And Disneyland has churros.”

Dio laughed as he adjusted the mini fan backpack he’d been roped into carrying—glittery, heart-shaped, and very not-his-style. “You said the same thing at the BTS pop-up.”

“Yeah, but this is live.”

Dahyun, incognito in a cap and oversized sunglasses, smirked. “I told you—I have range. And tonight, I’m strictly here as backup hype squad.”

“I still can’t believe you’re here with us,” Lily said, her voice just shy of reverence. “This feels like a dream.”

“Well, if it is, I brought snacks and cute outfits,” Dahyun said, bumping shoulders with her.

They were ushered through the VIP entrance with ease thanks to Dahyun’s quiet phone call earlier. Inside, the venue was magic—stage lights flashing like meteors, holograms glimmering, fans swaying like a synchronized wave of pastel devotion.

And then the opening VCR played.

The crowd roared.

And Illit burst onto stage.

Lily screamed—actually screamed—and clutched Dio’s hand with white-knuckle intensity.

He laughed in awe at her expression—eyes wide, mouth open, tears threatening as she mouthed every lyric like she’d waited her whole life for this.

Dahyun leaned in. “She’s a goner.”

“Completely,” Dio agreed.

The girls danced with fire in their feet, their vocals sharp and emotional. The stadium sang with them, a chorus of devotion. And then, midway through the set—after a water break and a costume change—something wild happened.

A staffer with a headset appeared in their row and leaned in toward Lily.

“Wonhee heard you’re here,” he said in hushed Korean, smiling. “She wants to meet you.”

Lily froze.

She didn’t breathe.

“Are you Lily?” the staffer asked again.

“Y-yes,” she whispered, nodding furiously.

He motioned for her to follow. Dio looked stunned, but Dahyun gently nudged his shoulder. “Go with her.”

Backstage smelled like hairspray, stage makeup, and anticipation.

Then—there she was.

Wonhee.

In person.

No hologram. No screen.

Just her bias, standing in a glittery Illit jersey and a bright, tired smile.

“Hi, Lily, right?” Wonhee said in near-perfect English. “Dahyun sunbaenim told us you came all the way from America!”

Lily tried to curtsy and bow at the same time, nearly falling over. “You’re my favorite person in the universe,” she said, barely keeping it together.

Wonhee laughed and pulled her in for a soft hug. “You’re so cute. I saw your vlog. You dance really well.”

Lily gasped. “You saw that?!”

“Twice,” Wonhee winked. “Come back after the show for a picture, okay?”

Lily nodded like her head was on a spring. “Okay. Yes. Thank you. Oh my god.”

When she returned to her seat, she looked completely shell-shocked.

“Okay?” Dio asked, his hand on her shoulder.

“I met her,” Lily whispered. “I met Wonhee.”

“She hugged me, Dio. That’s basically getting knighted.”

Dahyun grinned. “You survived. I’m proud.”

As the final encore began and the confetti rained down like blessings, Lily turned to Dio with teary eyes.

“Thank you. For everything. You didn’t have to do any of this, and I’m never gonna forget it.”

Dio smiled, swallowing something in his throat. “You deserve all of it, kiddo.”

And beside them, Dahyun—who had slipped off her glasses to wipe at her own eyes—nudged Dio softly.

“You’re a really good dad,” she whispered.

And in that glittering sea of joy and color and light, with Lily dancing beside him and Dahyun smiling from the other side, Dio felt—just for tonight—like everything in the universe had aligned exactly the way it was supposed to.

After the concert Dio watched lily play and dance with Wonhee. As it turned out they both had the same teasing humor. Dahyun creeped up behind Dio while she watched the two of them. They are like sisters. She said happily. Dio laughed and smiled before turning to Dahyun and saying “thanks Dubu,” Dahyun leaned into Dio and said, “anytime”

The next morning Dio and Lily were headed out early from the airport. The departure hall buzzed with its usual dance of goodbyes—families hugging, announcements echoing in Korean and English, and the smell of roasted chestnuts from a nearby snack stand. But for once, Lily wasn’t bouncing with excitement or filming clips for her vlog.

She was quiet. A little tired, but not just from travel.

She held her plushie from Dahyun in one arm and the signed Illit hoodie in the other. Her birthday crown—glittery, pastel, and slightly lopsided—still sat atop her head.

Dio handed over her favorite drink, a vanilla latte (half sweet, extra foam—he was trained now), and sat beside her at the gate.

She sipped, then looked at him. “This was the best birthday ever.”

Dio smiled. “You deserve that. And more.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, eyes tracing the planes outside the giant glass wall. “I know something’s bothering you,” she said quietly.

He exhaled slowly. “Is it that obvious?”

“You smile with your mouth, not your eyes when something’s wrong.”

He gave a soft, half-laugh. “You’re way too good at reading me.”

“I’m basically eleven now,” she said. “I can handle it.”

There was a long pause.

Then Dio said, “You know what today is, right?”

She blinked. “My birthday?”

“Yes. And also… the day your parents disappeared.”

Lily didn’t say anything at first. Just held her drink tighter.

“I didn’t want to tell you before the concert. I wanted this trip to be about you, not about sadness. But I think you’re old enough to hear a little more.”

She nodded slowly.

“I don’t know exactly what happened,” he continued. “Their cruise ship passed through an area near the Bermuda Triangle and—well, things just stopped. The search went on for weeks. Months, even. But no one ever found them.”

Lily looked down. “Why would they leave on my birthday?”

“They didn’t mean to. They thought it would be a fun getaway. They had no way of knowing.” His voice softened. “They loved you. So much. They left me everything—guardianship, the house, even the emergency funds. They trusted me with you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes glossy. “Did they say anything? Like… in a note?”

Dio reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper—weathered, taped in places.

“They wrote this on the plane before boarding the ship. Sarah gave it to me ‘just in case.’ I kept it from you until now.”

Lily opened it carefully. Her parents’ handwriting was messy, rushed, but full of warmth.

“If anything happens to us, please tell Lily we love her more than anything. And thank you, Dio. You’re family. She’s safe with you.”

Lily clutched the note to her chest.

“They never said goodbye…” she whispered.

Dio wrapped an arm around her. “They didn’t know they needed to. They thought they’d be back. But they made sure you’d never be alone.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Do you think they’d be proud of me?”

“I know they would,” Dio said, brushing a tear from her face. “And if they could see you now? Meeting Wonhee, talking back to Dahyun, learning Korean like it’s nothing? They’d be bragging about you nonstop.”

She sniffled, then smiled a little. “You think I talk back to Dahyun?”

“Like a champ.”

She leaned into his side. “I’m glad it was you. I’m glad you raised me.”

Dio didn’t speak for a moment—just rested his cheek on her head and held her close.

“I’m glad it was me too,” he finally said. “Even if I didn’t see it coming. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The final boarding call echoed overhead. Their flight home was waiting.

Lily looked at her crown in her reflection on the window. “Do you think it’s okay to celebrate my birthday today? Even if it’s… you know.”

He gently straightened her crown. “It’s your day. Not a tragedy. Not a curse. Just a birthday. And we’ll always make it beautiful. Deal?”

She smiled, really smiled. “Deal.”

They stood and walked toward their gate—hand in hand, past the noise, past the memories, into whatever came next.

The cabin lights had dimmed to a soft glow, casting long shadows over the rows of dozing passengers. Lily had finished watching her vlog concert of Illit for the third time (making sure her edits were perfect) and was curled up under a blanket, her plushie tucked between her arms and her birthday crown now lopsided on her tray table.

Dio sat beside her, still in the same window seat he always claimed—right side, just past the wing. He stared out into the velvet-dark sky, eyes tracing the constellations beyond the clouds.

He glanced at her. She was still awake—barely. That post-cake, post-cry, post-everything exhaustion was catching up to her, but she was fighting sleep, her gaze half-lidded and distant.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You got a minute?”

Lily stirred, peeking up. “Yeah?”

Dio hesitated. The words had been sitting on his chest since the afterparty, heavy like luggage he hadn’t unpacked.

“There’s something I need to tell you. Something… important.”

Lily sat up slightly. “What is it?”

Dio rubbed his palms together, grounding himself. Then he looked her in the eyes.

“They found your mom and dad.”

Lily blinked. Once. Then again. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Just a few days ago,” he continued. “They contacted me after the concert. I wasn’t sure when to tell you, but… today felt like the day. I didn’t want to keep it from you.”

“Wait—like really found them?” she asked, voice cracking. “Alive?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Alive. Somewhere off the coast of Bermuda, believe it or not. They were stranded. Some kind of island or shipwreck situation—barely had contact with the outside world. It’s… a miracle, honestly.”

Lily’s face contorted between disbelief and hope. “Are they okay?”

“They’re safe. A little shaken up. Recovering.” He paused. “They’ve been asking about you.”

She swallowed hard. “Do they want me to come home?”

Dio looked down at his hands for a long moment. Then back to her.

“They said they want to talk. Catch up. Figure things out.”

Lily sat there, frozen under her blanket, gripping her plushie like it might float away. “But this is home,” she said quietly.

Dio’s heart tugged.

“I know,” he said, his voice thick. “I know. And nothing changes that unless you want it to. Okay? You don’t owe anyone anything—not even them. We take this at your pace.”

Lily didn’t say anything right away. She looked out the window, into the dark where stars seemed to blink just for her.

“Do they even know me anymore?” she whispered.

Dio reached over and took her hand. “They’ll have to get to know the person you are now. The amazing, sharp, dance-battling, Korean-speaking, K-pop-loving you.”

She smiled faintly. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”

“That’s okay too,” he said. “You don’t have to figure it out tonight. Or tomorrow. You’ve got time. We’ll figure it out together.”

Lily leaned into him again, just like she had in the terminal hours ago—but this time with more weight behind it. More questions. More wonder.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, almost in a whisper.

And as the plane hummed toward home, Dio closed his eyes and held her a little tighter, bracing for the storm they hadn’t quite landed in yet.

A few days after arriving back in California Dio and Lily headed to the Orange County courthouse. The afternoon sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the reserved meeting space, casting long lines of light across the polished wood floor. It was quiet save for the hushed buzz of conversation from the far end of the room, where Dio stood near the doorway, Lily clutching his hand tighter than she had since kindergarten.

At the other end of the room stood Nigel and Sarah.

Alive. Whole. Changed.

Nigel looked thinner, more sun-tanned, and weathered by salt and time, but the moment he saw Lily, something cracked wide open in his chest. Sarah gasped audibly, her eyes immediately filling with tears. And between them stood a little boy—no older than three—peeking out curiously from behind Sarah’s leg.

Lily took a slow, uncertain step forward. Then another.

“Hi,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Sarah stepped forward, eyes shimmering. “Lily… my God, look at you. You’re so big.”

Nigel knelt, a trembling smile on his face. “You… you kept growing. You’re beautiful, Lilypad.”

She blinked at the nickname, a flicker of memory flashing through her. “You used to call me that when I lost teeth.”

“I still remember,” he said, choking on the words.

They met in the middle, and Lily folded into Sarah’s arms. Dio watched from a respectful distance, jaw clenched so hard it ached. The sound of Sarah’s soft crying and Lily’s quiet sniffles echoed softly in the open space.

“I thought you were dead,” Lily whispered.

“We thought we’d never get back,” Sarah replied, holding her tighter. “We fought every day to come home.”

“And who’s this?” Lily asked, turning to the wide-eyed toddler hiding behind Nigel’s leg.

“This is your little brother,” Nigel said with a proud, sheepish smile. “Eli.”

Lily blinked. “I have… a brother?”

The little boy grinned and waved, and Lily laughed—half awe, half confusion. “This is so weird.”

“Tell me about it,” Dio muttered under his breath, watching from the wall.

A shifting of voices near the side door drew his attention. In walked Daniel, Joseph, and Albert.

Dio’s jaw locked tighter.

Daniel offered a nod. “Dio.”

Dio didn’t return it.

Joseph, at least, had the decency to look remorseful. “We didn’t know how bad it got for you. Not really.”

“You didn’t want to know,” Dio shot back, his voice low but sharp. “You didn’t call. You didn’t show up to court. And when her grandmother tried to rip Lily away, you said—what was it again, Albert? ‘Maybe she’d be better off with real family?’”

Albert flinched. “We were scared.”

“I was too,” Dio said. “And I still showed up every damn day. I changed my whole life for her. I left Seattle and moved back here thinking that you all would have my back. All the while you all made me feel like I was stealing her.”

Silence.

“I had to rebuild from nothing while you all stood by and watched,” he continued. “And the worst part? She looked up to you. All of you.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

[Dahyun: Breathe. She’s safe. You’re safe. They can’t touch what you built.]

Dio stared at the message, then closed his eyes. Just for a second. Let the weight drain out of his shoulders.

Across the room, Lily was laughing. Sarah had pulled out old stories like they were coins from a magic purse, talking about Dio with amusement.

“So, a K-pop star, huh?” Sarah grinned as Lily lit up. “Your godfather’s got taste. I remember when he couldn’t even talk to cashiers without getting flustered.”

Lily giggled. “Her name’s Dahyun. She’s so pretty.”

“And way out of his league,” Sarah teased.

Dio walked over then, calm again, standing beside Lily. She reached for his hand without thinking.

Nigel looked at him with real gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “You saved her.”

Dio didn’t smile. Not yet. But he nodded once, tight and honest. “It was no big deal.”

The tension in his chest stayed—like a spring coiled tight—but the sight of Lily, now bouncing Eli on her hip like she’d always been a big sister, made something inside him start to unwind.

He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time in years, he didn’t dread the question.

A few days later Dio was moving out of the house he’d practically raised Lily in at the behest of Nigel and Sarah.

The house was full, but for a moment, the guest room was still. The murmurs from downstairs were muffled, like a distant tide. Lily sat cross-legged on the bed, fingers idly picking at the hem of her sleeve. Across from her, Sarah—her mother, who had been missing for five years but somehow still looked like she remembered—watched her carefully, gently.

There was a long silence before either of them spoke.

“I like your necklace,” Lily said finally, barely above a whisper.

Sarah blinked, then smiled softly. “Thanks, sweetheart. You used to play with it when you were little. You’d chew on the star.”

Lily gave a tiny, unsure smile, then looked down again.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she said, voice cracking despite her best effort. “I used to dream about it… but in the dream it always happened on my birthday. Like magic.”

Sarah’s eyes filled, but she blinked the tears back. She moved slowly, cautiously, sitting beside Lily.

“I dreamed about you too. Every single night. Sometimes I’d wake up and swear I could hear your laugh in the wind,” Sarah said, brushing a lock of hair behind Lily’s ear. “I know this is a lot. It is for me too.”

There was another silence. Then Lily asked:

“Why didn’t you call?”

Sarah looked down at her hands, wringing them slowly. “There was no way. We were stranded on this awful island… we didn’t even know if help was coming. And when it finally did, the world had moved on. We didn’t even know if you’d still be… with family.”

“I was,” Lily said. “Dio kept me. He fought for me. Even when nobody else wanted him to.”

Sarah exhaled sharply, guilt and gratitude crashing through her all at once.

“I know. He saved you. He saved all of us.”

Lily looked at her mother, eyes cloudy. “I love him, you know. He’s not my real dad, but he’s my dad.”

Sarah nodded, her throat tightening. “And nothing will change that. Not ever. Families grow… they don’t get replaced.”

“I don’t know how to feel,” Lily admitted. “I’m happy. I’m scared. I feel… guilty too, a little.”

“Why guilty?”

Lily’s voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Because I was starting to forget what your voice sounded like. I had to keep watching old videos.”

Sarah reached for her hand and held it tight. “That’s not forgetting. That’s surviving.”

Lily looked up, and Sarah’s eyes shimmered with tears—but this time, they didn’t fall.

A soft knock came at the door. It was Dio.

“Hey,” he said gently, as if he knew the weight of what was happening on the other side. “Dinner’s ready. If you’re hungry.”

“We’ll be right out,” Sarah said, brushing Lily’s hair back again.

Lily stood, hesitating at the door. Then she turned back, throwing her arms around her mother’s waist in a sudden, fierce hug. Sarah froze for half a second before melting into it, holding her daughter like she’d never let go again.

“I missed you so much,” Lily murmured.

“I missed you more,” Sarah whispered.

As they stepped out together, Sarah kept one hand on Lily’s back—protective, proud.

And just down the hallway, Dio watched from a respectful distance, hands in his pockets. He gave Lily a small, warm smile. She gave him one back—but this time, it was a little sad, too.

He understood.

Families grow. But they also change.

[rosieshipper]

Do y’all ever hyperfixate on something so hard that seeing any criticism of said hyperfixation feels like a punch in the gut?

Cause like I am in major last of us hyperfixation mode and I’m just trying to find some nice edits on TikTok but I can’t look in the comments of any last of us video without someone calling it trash or bullying the actors

Like I get it everyone is entitled to their opinion and are allowed to not like shit, but when you go onto people’s posts who are talking about how much they like the show and start spewing hate calling the show trash and anybody who enjoys it trash, then you yourself are the problem

It feels like I can’t enjoy the show at all. Like yes I have some minor grievances with season two it’s not perfect but that doesn’t make it bad. And let’s not forget that everyone was up in arms calling the second game a fucking mistake when it first came out. But now that season two is here, everyone is flipping their shit again because it’s a one for one recreation of the game

Like yes, it’s not gonna be realistic for Ellie to kill everyone she comes across in Seattle because she is only one person and the reason she kills all those people in the game is because you the player are controlling her to do so, it’s part of how the game works, you kill all the enemies to advance to the next area

But the show is not the game. Ellie is not gonna be a bad ass ruthless killing machine who’s gunning down everyone she sees. She is a traumatized woman who only wanted to kill the person who killed Joel. The show actually makes her feel human rather than just a video game character

And don’t get me started on the hate that Bella Ramsey has been receiving since day one of the show. Back in 2023 when the first season came out, the hate was pretty minimal and easy to deal with. But today we live in a world that is just so quick to hate things and not let anyone enjoy anything. People love to hate on Bella because they look nothing like game Ellie and love to say that their acting of her is terrible as well

Again, the show was never meant to be a one for one recreation of the game. It is an interpretation of it. It is going to be different. Even the creators say they weren’t casting the characters for their looks but rather the soul of the character, to embody who they are and what they mean

But also people love to hate Bella Ramsey for their appearance as well, going as far to say they have Down syndrome when they don’t. So way to be fucking ableist. They love to dog on them because this version of Ellie is not “sexy” enough. First of all, game Ellie was never for the male gaze. She is a lesbian who was a young child for half of the franchise, she was never for the men to like

But people will always be jerks who can never keep shit to themselves. They will always be stuck in their ways and never see things from anyone else perspectives

That’s all I have to say, I’m going to bed

[lilbardrhi]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 19: A Morning at Home

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; dehumanization; physical, mental, and emotional abuse committed by an organization; unethical experimentation on humans; cult behavior

Author's Note: Some slice-of-life content for y'all this time around uwu & still a bit short - but, again, trying to get back in the flow of writing/back in this... odd (not cuz Omegaverse) AU LOL

There's nothing here.

Simon searched high and low in the room, in the closet and under the bed, but there's nothing there. The window is even closed. After double checking every nook and cranny of the room, Simon comes to the conclusion that a nightmare must have scared the hell out of her. He expected such, but didn't expect them so soon.

Walking in his room to find 13 in the center of his bed and hidding under his blanket was... a surprise. A - strangely - pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. The way the blanket rested on top of her short, messy hair was... cute. He made no comment on it, though.

Convinced she was alseep and unable to sleep himself, he quietly grabs his phone from his nightstand and begins an email to his therapist.

Jina, I know it's late, and I apologize for that. I needed to reach out as soon as possible to seek help for a friend.

It almost seemed incorrect to call 13 a friend, but that's the best way he had to word it. Is 13 more or less than a friend?

She's just been removed from a strange organization and I can already tell she's in need of help. I'd like to get some options lined up for her as to who she can see, then pitch the idea to her about seeing one of the options. I'm not sure what all she went through while with this organization as she's been struggling to talk about it, but I know it would do her good to try if she's open to doing so. Thank you, Simon

He reads over the email a few times for errors and making sure he's not giving too much detail in a traceable form of contact before sending it off.

After that, he sends a quick message to Price about what happened, that he didn't find anything, and that 13 was already alseep again. Price responded quickly with a thumbs-up emoji then Simon decided to attempt to sleep again.

Sleep still doesn't come easy for Simon. Nor does it seem to want to stay with him for longer than 45 minutes. Each time 13 shifts or makes the quietest of sounds, his eyes open and he's alert.

He doesn't fault her for it; he knows he's just worried about her and her well-being. Making sure he's awake should she need something seems to be the thing for him for the night.

Oh, well.

"No," 13 mumbles suddenly. She repeats it twice before falling silent again.

Simon watches the bed silently for a moment, waiting to see if she'll turn over. When she doesn't, he settles back in and closes his eyes.

Around 6 am, Simon decides he's not sleeping any longer and quietly gets up. Thankfully, the door hinges aren't squeaky - this house is a fairly new build - and he makes his way to the kitchen without waking 13.

Or so he thought.

As Simon is gathering things for breakfast, Selene chirps as she prances into the kitchen. 13 walks up behind her, rubbing sleep from her eyes and looking disheveled as ever.

"Why are you up?" she mutters as she looks at the clock on the stove.

"Restless, I suppose," he offers and prepares the pan to cook eggs in.

13 hums in acknowledgement and slides on a stool at the kitchen island. Over the next couple minutes, while he's cooking, Simon watches 13 gradually slouch over the island counter before eventually her forehead is pressed to her forearm in front of her.

A smile pulls at the corner of Simon's mouth at the sight.

"Didn't sleep well?"

She mumbles something to the counter, but shakes her head then sits up.

"Actually, I slept better than I have in... a long time."

13's head tilts to the side slightly as if she's studying him.

Simon assumes that his scars are what has her attention, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't wear masks for himself - he wears it because it means less horrific looks and probing questions in public. Her gaze isn't horrified, though, and she's yet to say anything about the rough skin marring his left cheek that trails down his neck.

"We have orange juice, right?" 13 asks as she slides off the stool and pads to the fridge.

Simon pauses for a moment, shocked that her question wasn't about the scars. He nods, though, and continues cooking.

They sit and eat in silence when he's done cooking. Simon steals glances at 13, a question bubbling in his chest.

Is there something she'd prefer to be called besides 13?

Is now even the time to ask? Or would it be better to wait until she's had some therapy?

Then Simon's phone chimes, signalling an email.

"Mind if I check this?" he asks, pointing to his phone.

"I don't care," 13 laughs lightly then sips her orange juice.

Simon, Based on what little information you've given, I can't give many reccomendations as I can't determine what she would be seen for. I also can't see her myself as it would be a conflict of interest, given I already see you. However, I would reccomend getting her set up with a primary care provider that you trust so she can be referred somewhere for a therapy. This seems serious, based on the tone in your email, so I will be here to help you both in anyway I can. Below is a link to a list of primary care providers that are accepting new patients within your insurance. While we're chatting, would you like to set up an appointment? If this is serious enough that you would reach out on her behalf before speaking to her about therapy, I can only assume there may be some things you may want to get off of your chest as well. Jina

Simon guesses he should have found a regular doctor for her before seeking other help for her, but he's worried about 13. He quickly sends back an email about his availability over the next few weeks and a thank you for the list. It's been a while since he's had an appointment, but he would like some input on 13's situation - to know if there's anything he can do to help her adjust to a life outside of Salvation.

"How do you feel about doctors?" he asks as he puts his phone aside.

"No particular way. I'm not scared of them, if that's what you're asking. Why?" 13 raises an eyebrow at him in question at his random inquiry.

"When's the last time you saw one outside of one of Salvation's?" he presses a bit.

"Since shortly before Salvation bought me," she answers nonchalantly.

"Would you be opening to me helping you find a primary care provider? I can get you put on my insurance so no one fights you over that," Simon offers.

"Yeah, that's fine," she shrugs and bites off a piece of bacon. "Won't they give you hell about us not being... together in some way or something, though?"

Simon shakes his head.

"No. Price will make sure we get through some loopholes."

She accepts the answer and moves on to finishing her breakfast. Selene chirps in the window at a bird as the kitchen island settles into silence.

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

Tag List: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog @scaredyspooks @tessakate @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @nerdyphantomtheorist @gazsluckyhat @peanutismynickname @jeanzoriley-cod @avgdestitute @itsvargen

[scuffedclang]

The in game Inquest I currently have! I'm sure I'll have more soon enough.

[threadsun]

Real quick, not because it's come up or anything, I just want to be pre-emptive about it:

Remember that I'm not the world's leading expert in anything, including kink. Remember to take things I say with a grain of salt and do your own research. I never want to be one of those people who styles themself as an expert and is treated as some sort of guide/leader. For one thing, that's not a power dynamic I'm comfortable with. I'm here to make friends and have fun and spread my love of RACK, not be in charge of anyone (save for moderating the discord).

I happen to know more about queer identities, disability, and kink/bdsm/safe sex than the average person just because they're the three areas I've studied a lot and that most affect my personal life in various ways. But that doesn't mean I'll always be right about everything, or that I'll get across my knowledge well, or that you should just listen to everything I say and take it as fact.

Especially when it comes to kink and bdsm, you should never be teaching others about it just from what you've learned from me, nor should you be practicing it if I'm the only source you've gotten your information from. As a general rule of thumb, never get all your information from one source or believe people just because they usually know what they're talking about. Look for multiple sources, do your own research, remember that there's always going to be different perspectives and everyone has blindspots they don't know about.

So yeah, idk. I just don't wanna be creating weird power dynamics just because I happen to know a lot about kink and like to share my knowledge. And I definitely don't want people engaging in irl kinks based only on what they learn from me, because I've barely brushed the surface of what you need to know before you can safely engage in kink.

Also just because I tease and flirt does not make me anyone's dom. I don't engage in play without negotiation and trust (and friendship or money). If I'm flirting with someone, it's because they've consented to it and they can revoke that consent at any time. But I will never try to engage in actual power exchange here, that would be irresponsible and once again create a power dynamic I'm not comfortable with. I have my limits, and I'll make them clear, so never worry you've accidentally broken them without knowing. And don't worry about trying to defend me, I can defend myself.

[bunnis-monsters]

Hybrid Shelter

Ch1

prologue

chapter 2

warning: milking the cow/bull hybrids, handjob, thigh fucking

summary: after becoming a full time worker at the hybrid shelter, you realize it’s not going to be as easy as you thought.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

Working at the Hybrid Shelter full time was as hard as you thought it would be.

The younger hybrids started fixating on you lately. When you had only been working part time shifts, you only saw them in passing.

Now, every day you walked in, ready to wake them up and get them all fed.

“Mama!”

A puppy hybrid greeted you with a yip, their puppy teeth gnawing in your pants leg as you prepared a few bottles. “Mama, play?”

You gently pulled the puppy hybrid off of your leg, keeping him balanced on your hip. “Not right now, pup. You all have to have your bottle first.”

A few kitten hybrids toddled and crawled around nearby, while an infant mouse hybrid wailed from his crib.

The nursery was a fairly new addition to the hybrid shelter. In the past, only adults had been allowed to stay, meaning occasionally some men with children would be denied shelter.

Now they were both accepted. A few of the babies here belonged to men in the shelter, while others had no parents.

As you fed the infant mouse hybrid, a puppy hybrid knocked on the door. “Is my brother awake?”

Alex was 19, and had been separated from his parents a few years back. His brother was 3 years old, and stayed in the nursery while Alex tried to find work and a stable home for the both of them.

“Yeah, he’s right here.”

The puppy hybrid that had been gnawing on your pants before, Ollie, toddled to his big brother and decided to chew on him instead. “Hey, I told you not to do that…”

Though the older pup scolded the little one, there was no bite behind his words. He picked Ollie up and licked his head, giving him a quick bath. “You will be good for her today, alright? I’m mopping the halls today, so I’ll be close by if you need me.”

You buried the infant in your arms before giving him a diaper change and tucking him back into bed. Privacy was something a luxury when you lived in a shelter, so you tried to give the two some space.

“Okay, bubba. I won’t pee on the floor!”

A nurse took over the nursery once the shelter opened, and you left to begin your other daily chores.

“(NAME)!”

You were nearly tackled by the cat hybrid you had tamed a few weeks ago. “Hey, Midnight. How’s everything going?”

He purred and butted his head against your cheek affectionately, immediately beginning to groom and preen you. “It’s always scary when you’re not here. I don’t like the doctors or the other hybrids.”

That seemed to be relatively common with the abused hybrids. They didn’t like the situation they’d been forced into, having no home left to return to and being abandoned by abusers they still loved.

“You should try getting along with the others, okay? You know next week we’re introducing you to the group, your quarantine is almost over.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, too busy rubbing his scent on you. “Don’t wanna… can’t I just come home with you?”

As much as you wished he could, all employees were forbidden from adopting any hybrids from the shelter. If they wanted to, they’d have to quit.

“You know I can’t… at least not right now.”

You didn’t want to give him hope, but you also knew that the possibility that he could come home with you eventually was the only thing keeping him going.

After he ate his breakfast and you spent some time cleaning his space and making sure he had enough enrichment for the day, you left to continue your chores.

Your first stop was the domesticated hybrid building.

The more common type of hybrid to be abandoned were the domestic ones. Puppies, cats, bunnies, birds, goldfish, and hamsters.

“Have you guys had breakfast?”

Several heads turned to look at you once the door opened. “(Name)’s here!”

The hybrids gathered around you, all sniffing and licking your body and hair. You had grown used to this, and simply waited until they were satisfied before speaking. “I’m assuming you have, considering you all smell like bacon and eggs.”

“Mhm, it was good! Alex said you would be here soon!” one of the puppy hybrids said, his tail wagging furiously.

A goldfish hybrid swam in the pool area, poking his head out of the water. “(Name), you said you’d swim with me this week.”

“I will, Goldy, but it’s gonna be after I finish up with the wild building.”

The cat hybrids rubbed against you as a bunny hybrid relaxed in your lap. “The wild building? I can’t believe you’re still meeting with them every day.”

A week ago, you were tasked with helping to domesticate the wild animals in the shelter. That was no easy task, considering it consisted of big cats, wolves, and other dangerous hybrids that saw humans as a source of food.

“It’s not all that bad, I have a few allies there that keep me safe.”

The bunny hybrid, Momo, huffed and nibbled on your finger. “Wild hybrids will always be wild at the end of the day. Don’t be fooled, they’re only being nice to you so they can get what they want.”

“What do they want..?”

None of the hybrids seemed like they wanted to answer that particular question.

“Well… you all will be getting a new roommate this week. He’s had a tough time, so I hope you’ll remember that when I introduce you to him.”

They all glanced at one another. “We’ve all had a hard time, (Name). As long as he doesn’t attack us, we won’t do anything.”

If only you could promise such a thing. With Midnight, you weren’t so sure.

As you did some minor cleaning up around the building, you were approached by a hamster hybrid.

“Quinn? Something wrong?”

He looked down at his feet, his hands twisting and pulling at the hem of his shirt. “… it’s just…”

The man sighed, puffing out his chubby cheeks. “Isn’t it strange? Lately, you’ve been the only one visiting us every day.”

You blinked, pausing your work. “The only one..?”

“Mhm. Before, multiple female workers would come to check on us. Of course none of them were as personable as you. They came in, asked how we were doing and cleaned up, then left.”

That was rather confusing. You always remembered the entire place brimming with female employees. Though lately, it was rare to spot more than a handful in each building.

“I’m sure we must be short staffed at the moment. Are you looking for any employees in particular?”

He shook his head, looking up at you. “No, we don’t even know the names of the others.”

Quinn left after that, and you pushed that information aside for now. You’d ask your boss about it later, your work came first.

Though as you comforted a small parrot hybrid after a nightmare, you wondered if they had been receiving the same care from the other employees. You knew that there was only so much one person could do, and that everyone’s role to play was different…

But did they even ca-

You shook your head, carefully wiping away the hybrid’s tears before settling him down for a nap. You shouldn’t think about the shelter that way. When you started working there, you saw firsthand how draining it was to work with so many different hybrids.

Perhaps they were all taking a break, and a new rotation of employees would be coming in to fill in for them…

Once the parrot hybrid was asleep, you tiptoed out. The poor thing was nearly your age, but he still needed to be soothed to sleep. His beautiful feathers had been plucked out of stress, leaving bald patches that were covered up by a fluffy sweater.

You had a lot of things to do every day. Your job was to comfort, feed, play with, and socialize the hybrids and get them to the point they could either be adopted, get a job, or be reintroduced to the wild.

It was strange, though. Despite the fact the shelter encouraged each member to strive towards some sort of goal, none of the hybrids there had managed to achieve anything.

They stayed there, stagnant and bored out of their minds.

Perhaps they just needed a little push. That’s what your boss told you he needed you for. Most of the hybrid seemed to enjoy your presence and wanted to impress you!

As you moved towards the farm building, you wrote some notes next to each hybrid’s name.

“(Name), how’s it going?”

You jumped when you were embraced from behind, your cheeks turning red. “C-Cecil, you shouldn’t be outside of your building!”

The white tiger hybrid chuckled, purring as his large, rough tongue licked your hair. He always ended up giving you such a huge cowlick!

“Mmm, I just returned from the infirmary, actually.”

You immediately softened. Cecil had a number of health problems, stemming from the bad breeding conditions that white tiger hybrids were born from.

Although he looked like a beautiful white tiger hybrid with striking grey eyes, his vision was impaired and he suffered chronic aches and joint pain.

Cecil couldn’t live with the other wild hybrids due to his immune system deficiencies, so he stayed with hybrids like him with similar health problems.

“What did they say..?”

A purr left his throat. He knew bringing up his worsening health always meant a little extra time with you. “They think that the organ transplant is working well, and that I’ll be able to eat solid food again soon.”

“That’s great news!”

His cheeks warmed when you patted his head and gave his ears a scratch. “Go rest, okay? I’ll come check on you when I visit the sickbay.”

Cecil watched you go, clutching his chest. He hoped he’d live long enough to someday make you his.

Your next stop was the farm. Outside a few sheep and pig hybrids trotted about, gracing or lying atound in the sun. When they noticed you, they gathered at the fence.

“(Name), right now might not be the best time to… uh… go in there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

The group glanced at one another, and you joined them in the grass. A young lamb curled up in your lap, suckling on one of your fingers as he napped.

In hushed whispers, the sheep across from you began to speak. “Well, no one has been by the farm to milk the bull and cow hybrids. They’re… uh… a bit testy right now.”

You heard a few off handed comments and complaints from your coworkers that had to take care of the cow and bull hybrids, but you never had any problems with them!

“It’s my job to ensure every hybrid here is comfortable, safe, and healthy. If no one else is here to milk them, I’m sure I can handle it.”

Though the other hybrids looked nervous, they didn’t stop you.

Your phone struggled to load the protocol for milking the cow and bull hybrids as you walked in. The sound of frustrated and pained groans could be heard from the back.

“Hello?”

The sounds stopped, an eerie silence falling over the barn. The sudden creaking of the back door slowly opening made you jump.

Before you could call out again, you were pulled into the back.

“(Name)… please… you have to help us!”

You felt arms wrapping around your body… and several long, wet things rubbing against you…

“Beau?”

Beau, one of the new cow hybrids that arrived last month mooed nervously. His eyes were full of tears, and his tongue gave your cheek a lick.

“No one has been by to milk us… it’s been two days, the bulls are angry and pent up, and…”

As he sniffled, you reached out to pet his head. “Hey, it’s okay. I came to take care of that for you. I used to milk cows with my grandpa, he had a farm.”

Beau blushed, his tail swaying. “W-well… with male cow and bull hybrids… it’s uhm… a little different.”

He slowly pulled back, and you finally got to see what was rubbing against you.

His fat cock was poking out, his balls heavy and swollen from the days he hadn’t been milked. It was all coming together now…

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts. You were a professional, and these hybrids were in obvious pain! You needed to take care of them, no matter now embarrassing it may be!

The arousal growing between your legs was the wordy part. It was making you horny, seeing so many cow hybrids desperate for your touch.

“They usually have a machine for us to g-get off with…” Beau murmured, twiddling his thumbs. “Sometimes we can even use it ourselves if we think we need to… but it’s gone.”

Being understaffed was one thing, but the disappearance of machinery that bettered the hybrids’ lives was… concerning. Where had it gone?

You sighed softly, the information finally loading on your phone ten minutes too late. A bucket was placed on the ground, and you slowly reached out to grab hold of Beau’s cock.

His hips bucked as you stroked his shaft carefully, aiming the tip towards the bucket. A whine left his throat, and with a few strokes he came.

The semen smelled like milk, but had a thicker and creamier texture. Your eyes were focused on the tip of his cock, how it oozed and twitched with every touch.

God, you just wanted to take it into your mouth and-

“Ahh, that’s so much better…” Beau said, interrupting your dirty thoughts. You blinked and your cheeks heated up as you let go of his softening cock.

“I’m… glad I could help.”

After milking every cow hybrid, you moved to the bull hybrids’ quarters. There were only three of them, since taking any more on may result in territorial behavior.

The moment you walked in, your skirt was lifted up and a cock was slipped between your thighs.

“Heard our (Name) was coming to milk us ourselves…” Brody cooed, already beginning to fuck your thighs.

“We’re way too big to jerk off, missy. We’ll be using these.”

The three took turns fucking your thighs, their thick cocks occasionally brushing against your wet panties. This wasn’t the correct protocol, what if someone saw? Would you be fired!?

Did you even care when you were hoping they’d pull your panties to the side and fill you with their milk instead of that bucket?

The bulls weren’t easy on you, leaving your thighs a sticky mess before it was all said and done with. You were almost disappointed they didn’t just go ahead and fuck you…

You left the barn, face burning with shame and arousal as you ran towards the staff building.

After a shower, you’d have to continue on with your duties…

If only you knew how your day would progress from there… you may have just gone home.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[verxca]

Imagine Jason being so soft and sweet and clingy with you that when his siblings see him in a store with you they have to do a double take. It would be extra funny if his family didn't know about you yet xD

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #03 ]

[ j. todd ft d. grayson ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which dick spots something very unusual from his brother at the grocery store.

Late night grocery trips were preferable to Dick for two primary reasons; One, being as the stores were usually less busy, meaning less people would spot him. And two, crime was typically preformed at night here in Gotham, meaning he could keep an extra eye out. It was like killing three birds with one stone!

Turning the corner, Dick hummed a random tune to himself upon entering another produce isle. He was just here to pick up some cereal and butter, nothing too important. As he leaned down to grab what he needed, a friendly couple entered the isle from the other side— giggling and holding hands.

Not wanting to seem nosy or rude, he didn’t stare, still scanning to find the brand he liked.

“Nope- All they do is knock shit over, claw your back, and piss all over the fucking furniture.” The guys voice from across the aisle sounded familiar, a little too familiar— almost like his brother Jason’s. But he ruled that one out quickly… It was obvious that the dude and Jay acted completely different. Though, the mysterious guy did sound like one of his old friends from high school. Maybe it was him— Damn, how long had it been? What a coincidence to see him here!

Dick looked up— fully expecting to run into an old friend. Yet, the realization of his mistake came crashing down like a punch to the gut as the boyfriend moved his face into view, eyes still glued down to his girl. Oh, it was Jason! What was he doing here at this hour? Dick chuckled, looking back down before snapping his neck up for maybe the fourth time.

Wait— that was Jason?

“But, like- Same for dogs! You have to walk them twenty times a week, and pick up their shit too. No animals are easy to care for, but cats are definitely easier!” You argued with your boyfriend, squeezing his hand to try and enforce your point.

You two had been dating for a good couple months now, but still, Jay was ever so reluctant to get an animal! Every time you brought it up, he’d make the same five points. “Kay- That’s fair, babe, but-”

Jay teased once more, laughing as you tried to protest. Fuck, was it ever cute when you got all defensive like that. It was definitely Jason’s guilty pleasure, and he couldn’t help but tease you when the opportunity was in front of him— practically begging to be taken. Jay quickly leaned down for quick kiss, hands moving to your waist. He hadn’t even realized the two of you weren’t alone in the aisle, nor that the other person here was his brother.

You couldn’t help but just melt into your boyfriend’s touch as he kissed you— moving his lips down your jaw and neck. Your hands steadied on his abdomen, as he lavished your collar in desperate affection.

“Holy fuck.”

Dick was completely in shock. Jason was not only acting clingy with someone— completely vulnerable and desperate, but was also with a god forsaken secret girlfriend he had never told anyone about! It showed in the way he kissed the girl’s neck, and in the way he held her tight, that Jay was in love. But still, was this all some fucking witchcraft? How in gods name did someone get him to open up and act all lovey-dovey like that?

He didn’t know what to do, but sure as hell didn’t want to get caught. Dick slipped out of the asile, your collective giggles still faintly audible as he entered the parallel row. He was debating on taking a photo or not… but he didn’t want to invade the girl’s privacy.

Instead, he made a mental note of the encounter, checking out and leaving, already picturing the faces of his family when he’d bring it up at the next dinner.

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao

I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?

Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.

I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x

a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.

“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”

You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”

Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God!

You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him. 

Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”

He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned. 

Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out. 

But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much.  “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”

You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling. 

The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing. 

The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much. 

None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted. 

You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be. 

You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!

Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover. 

The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”

It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark. 

You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack. 

Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.” 

“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you. 

Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified. 

“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do. 

There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”

You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up. 

Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you. 

But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”

“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her. 

She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”

She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both. 

You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it. 

“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through. 

You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground. 

Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat. 

You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest. 

You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand. 

You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look. 

You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast. 

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings. 

It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped. 

Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott. 

He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at. 

Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black. 

When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you. 

You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple. 

The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage. 

Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged. 

She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?” 

She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”

The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you. 

You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”

Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”

You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation. 

“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant. 

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”

“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time. 

Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice. 

“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”

“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott. 

Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most. 

So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand. 

“What’re you doing?”

You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens. 

He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior. 

“I think that’d be best.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated. 

You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him. 

What the fuck?

It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. 

He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you. 

Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire. 

And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams. 

He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you. 

He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess. 

Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off. 

Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense. 

Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal. 

You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag. 

But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you. 

You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip. 

You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you. 

You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known. 

“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”

It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?

Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions. 

“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him. 

“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad. 

But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern. 

Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”

If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.

“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue. 

He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room. 

“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off. 

The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”

He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”

You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby. 

Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”

“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another. 

Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up. 

“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought. 

It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”

“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all. 

The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest. 

You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to. 

You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her. 

You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him. 

You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you. 

You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him. 

Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him. 

It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long. 

It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again. 

“Has he made much progress yet?”

Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire. 

His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated. 

That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes. 

He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye. 

You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”

You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”

“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you. 

There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow. 

You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position. 

“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt. 

He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared. 

He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at. 

Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”

Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”

She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever. 

You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor. 

You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain. 

You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere. 

You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”

Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”

You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”

He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”

His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had. 

“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”

You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”

“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea. 

“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said. 

His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love. 

You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him. 

“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up. 

“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order. 

You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. 

That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants. 

You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him. 

Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips. 

You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”

You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”

He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”

You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you. 

He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass. 

a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl ♡ 

[jinwoosungs]

04/11/25; 06:45pm

dante sparda x fem.reader

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

@luneariaa ✨

thinking about surprising dante sparda with a new set of lingerie.

being the absolute oaf and himbo that he is, you were certain that your hunter boyfriend didn’t have the slightest clue as to what the significance of today’s date was and how it marked a year of being together.

night had long since fallen, and you were still in the middle of trying on your new lingerie set. as you pull on the thin straps, you take a look at your reflection in the mirror. red and ebony silk hugs your body to perfection, leaving little to the imagination as you felt the heat against your cheeks.

this felt ridiculous-

and you had a feeling you couldn’t pull this off at all. looking down at the length of your legs, you heave out another sigh. perhaps what was missing was the matching pair of stiletto heels. settling yourself on the bed, you pick up the shoes and slide your feet inside while fastening the straps, allowing the stilettos to add that final touch to your overall outfit.

but there was just one tiny problem-

you had trouble getting back up on your feet.

clinging to the mattress, you stand back to your full height, yet your ankles kept shaking with each step that you took. with slow and easy steps, you came out of your bedroom with a poise that was reminiscent of a newborn deer. as you cling to the wall for support, you began regretting your life choices when the sounds of the door unlocking makes you freeze on the spot.

“i’m home babe-“

dante greets you with a cocky grin, yet it was immediately wiped off the moment he sees you. bags of what you assumed were chinese food lands on the ground, with dante’s eyes darkening considerably when he slams the door shut. hearing the latch turn on the lock, dante takes quick strides towards you, “who’s got you lookin’ all dolled up and pretty for them, hm?”

you swallow thickly, weakly gesturing toward the bag of ruined food, “dante, the food-“

he ends up trapping you against the wall with his body, slamming his fist right next to your head, “fuck the food, i wanna know who you’re dressed up for. has some bastard been sneaking into this apartment, wanting a taste of you? do i need to kill somebody-“

thanks to the height of your heels, you manage to reach dante with ease, pressing a kiss against his chapped lips in hopes of calming him down, “i wore this for you, you idiot. or did you forget that today was our one year anniversary?”

he visibly relaxes, wrapping an arm around your waist before carrying you back into the bedroom, “aw babygirl, you should have said so from the start. and of course i didn’t forget our anniversary, what d’ya think the chinese food was for?”

you roll your eyes at him, “and you just ruined it by dropping it on the floor…”

“nah angel, i didn’t ruin it. i just found something far more delicious that i’d like to eat.” with your shared bed in view, dante tosses you against the mattress, watching with dilated eyes as your body bounces against the bed.

he takes a moment to admire your form, eyes raking down your body while taking in the pretty ribbons and lace that surrounds you. feeling like you were burning from beneath his gaze, you trail your eyes down toward the center of his legs, already noticing the visible tent in them.

with a sly grin, you sit back in bed, stretching out your leg so that the tip of your heel made contact with his clothed erection. you earn a low hiss from the powerful man above you, “careful darling, ‘cause you’re playing with fire.”

spreading your legs wide open for him, dante ends up kneeling before you, basking in the scent that wafts off of your center. from where his hungry gaze lands, he could see the dark stain on your lingerie and how it made the material appear sheer. the outline of your pretty pussy made his mouth water when he surges forward, planting his lips over the gusset as he began greedily sucking you through your lingerie.

his tongue kept flicking at your swollen clit, making you cry out to him. he kept tracing at your outer lips with the tip of his tongue, making your legs instinctively open wider for him. your hands grip at dante’s silvery locks of hair, unable to believe that a demon could bring you so close to heaven.

“mmm, fuck, you taste s’fucking good f’me.” he places one last kiss against your barely clothed center, practically drunk off the taste of you when he hurriedly takes off his red trench coat, tossing it aside before tearing off the rest of his clothes. the fall to the ground in a messy pile, revealing his perfectly sculpted body and his proud cock standing stiff and tall for you.

your mouth waters as the sight, feeling desperate to taste him. attempting to sit up, you were all too willing to get on your knees for him when he stops you. binding your wrists together with his large hands, he smirks down at you, eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. tracing your figure, he lets out a disappointed sigh, “as much as i enjoy seeing you in such pretty ribbons and lace, i’d much rather fuck you naked.”

those words serve as a final warning, with dante ripping apart your flimsy lingerie with one swift motion. you gasp at the sight of it being torn to shreds. “dante! i spent good money on that…!”

“i’ll buy you a new one later.” he emphasizes, tracing the tip of his cock against your center when a wolfish grin paints his handsome expression. “actually, i have a better idea.”

he suddenly flips you so that you were now the one hovering over him, his cock felt hitting at your inner thighs as you mewl in response. he admires the sight of your bare form, tracing down the length of your sides before giving your ass a loud smack!

the impact nearly makes you fall forward, with dante still giving you his cocky grin as he rubs his cock against your backside. shivers began running down your spine when his sinful voice whispers in your ear, “as an anniversary present, why don’t you give this cock a good ride while wearin’ those damn stilettos. just seeing you in nothin’ but those heels is making my cock so damn hard for you, babygirl.”

you were left panting now, planting your hands against his hard wall of muscle as you slide your core back and forth on his cock. the sensation of your arousal felt dripping down on him makes the half-demon toss his head back in response. “yeah baby, that’s it, that’s it, wet my cock with your juices, make it that much easier to slide my cock in.”

his sinful words made you lose control-

tossing aside your inhibitions when you take a hold of his shaft with your hand. you slap his girthy cock against your entrance, teasing him for a brief moment before keeping it still for you. when his tip was felt sliding into your heat, you tossed your head back while proceeding to slam your hips down on him.

when he was fully sheathed within you, you took a moment to bask in how full you felt. his cock kept pulsating within your slick heat, making pinpricks of pleasure course through your veins. squeezing him for good measure, you slowly lay back before swirling your hips up and down his cock, giving dante a bit of a show each time his cock slides in and out of your cunt. a low growl was heard each time your body descended upon him, taking him inch by breathtaking inch as you found yourself unable to stop.

while you moved down on him, dante continued to meet your downwards thrusts with his own upward one, neck straining with each tilt of your hips as he continues fucking himself into you.

“best.” thrust! “goddamn.” thrust! “anniversary.” thrust! “gift.” thrust! “ever!!”

“ngh! dante! dante fuck! this feels so fucking good!” you cried out to him, movements turning sloppier now as you began chasing your high.

your clit manages to catch on to his thick cock, sending new waves of pleasure to course through you. you could feel your abdomen tighten with an incoming release. feeling dante’s cock buried to the hilt inside of you causes the cord to snap, with your climax taking over your body in its entirety.

you go stiff for a brief moment before turning into putty mere seconds later. you could feel your walls clamping down on dante’s cock, with him stilling his hips. he shoots his seed into you, an almost feral desire to paint your womb white with his cum as his eyes flash red. biting down on his bottom lip, he allows his cock to pump you full of his seed, feeling it twitch before pinning you back down against the bed.

a devilish grin paints his expression when he tosses both of your legs up against his shoulder. your eyes were completely clouded over, giving in to your hedonistic needs as dante allows the blood to return to his cock, further hardening it before moving against you once more. “let’s just enjoy our anniversary and hope for more years together to come. hah, get it? to come? like i’m about to make you cum over and over again in the next couple of hours?”

instead of answering him with words, you wrap both of your arms around his neck, bringing his lips down as you swallowed the rest of his cocky words with a searing kiss.

extended epilogue

sometime in the morning, dante eventually manages to pull out of you, salvaging what was left of the chinese food as he manages to microwave some lo mein noodles with beef and broccoli. you share the food in bed together, your naked back pressed against his chest as you passed the carton of food back and forth.

when the boxes were empty, you heard dante clear his throat, indicating that he had something to say to you. you meet his gaze and ran the back of your hand against his defined cheekbone. “what is it?”

he clears his throat again, appearing more sheepish than usual, “ah, there’s actually something i wanted to give you.”

your eyes go wide, “r-really? but i thought you were the type to keep this relationship… i don’t know… more lowkey….? just taking it day by day to see where it takes us?”

dante rolls his eyes, “yeah well, maybe things change, alright?”

you were speechless now, watching as dante kept the sheets wrapped around his waist as he rummaged through his nightstand. he found what he was looking for and turns back to look at you, “close your eyes, okay?”

being the best girlfriend that you were, you dutifully closed your eyes and waited. you felt his warm breath against your skin before a weight was felt around your neck.

“okay, you can open ‘em.”

you open your eyes, noticing something red and glittering settled between your chest. you gasp in response, hands trembling as you placed the ruby red gemstone within the palm of your hand. “dante… it’s beautiful.”

“yeah, i know.” he takes your body and places you back on his lap, “my mom gave that to me when i was young, and she always told me to keep it safe. it’s been my greatest treasure for the longest time-“

“and now, i have another one of my greatest treasures to share it with.”

you meet his gaze, heart filled to the brim with warmth and love for him. he gives you one of his rare, genuine smiles, making him appear younger as his clear blue eyes shone with a clarity that makes your breathing hitch in response.

“so… let’s make this last forever, okay?”

unable to answer him with words, you lean forward, allowing dante to capture your lips in a fervent kiss that seals your promise of forever.

end notes: mannnnn i love dante so much 😭 this is currently unedited, but ill make any necessary changes soon once it’s posted !!

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 1: March 2023

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

....Do not expect particular quick updates on this, because it's a beast of a story. Also: kinda Charles bashing, but not really? You'll see.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

A Bar in Montecarlo: 

Max had come to the bar for a quiet drink, not to get his world flipped upside down. But then he spotted her.

She was standing at the counter, waiting for her drink, all soft confidence and effortless elegance. The kind of woman who didn’t need to try to turn heads—she just did. And Max, never one to let an opportunity pass him by, slid up beside her with his most charming smirk and opened his mouth. 

And because apparently, he had actually listened the last time Lando told him all about the absolutely horrible Pick-Up-Lines that he had tried with middling success…that was what came out of his mouth.

“Excuse me,” he said smoothly, “but do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

She turned, amused—

And Max nearly choked.

Because he knew her.

His brain scrambled for a second before his mouth caught up. “Oh, shit. You’re Charles’ little sister.”

Her entire expression changed. The amusement faded, her jaw tightening. “Wow,” she deadpanned. “That’s one way to ruin a moment.”

Max grimaced. “That’s not what I—”

She picked up her drink and turned fully toward him, raising a brow. “I do have a name, you know.”

He nodded quickly, recovering. “Right. Isabelle.”

“Good job,” she said dryly. “Want a gold star?”

Max huffed out a laugh. “Look, I just wasn’t expecting you. I see a beautiful woman at a bar, and my instinct is to flirt. Then I realize she’s my colleague’s little sister, and I panic.”

Her lips twitched. “And?”

“And… I’m still going to flirt with you,” he admitted, grinning. “But properly this time.”

She tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh?”

Max leaned in slightly. “Can I buy you a drink, Isabelle?”

She pretended to consider. “That depends. Are you going to keep calling me Charles’ little sister?”

He placed a hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear never to utter those words again.”

Her lips curled in the slightest smirk. “In that case, sure. Let’s see if you can impress me, Verstappen.”

Max had never been one to back down from a challenge. And something told him this was a challenge he’d never want to walk away from.

Max flagged down the bartender, ordering another round for both of them. Isabelle took a slow sip of her drink, watching him over the rim of her glass like she was trying to decide if he was worth her time.

He liked that. Liked that she wasn’t falling over herself just because he was Max Verstappen.

“So,” he said, leaning against the bar, “what exactly would impress you?”

She hummed, tapping a finger against her glass. “A conversation that doesn’t involve my brothers.”

Max smirked. “That easy?”

“You’d be surprised how many people fail that test.”

He could imagine. Charles was everywhere in the racing world, and by extension, so was Isabelle. It must be exhausting, always being seen as an extension of someone else.

Max took the challenge seriously. “Alright,” he said, shifting toward her. “Tell me something about you that has nothing to do with your family.”

She studied him for a moment, like she was assessing if he was genuine. Then, after a beat, she said, “I work in architecture.”

Max blinked. “Really?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I never thought about what you do.”

She smirked. “That’s because you’ve only ever seen me as Charles’ little sister.”

Max winced. “Okay, fair. But I’m interested now.”

“Are you?” She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “I have heard your name at work before.”

Max frowned. “You have?”

“Oh, yeah,” Isabelle said, taking another sip of her drink. “Apparently, you’ve been house hunting. One of my colleagues nearly had a meltdown over the idea of designing a place for Max Verstappen.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “Wait… which project?”

She bit back a smile. “A penthouse. You toured it a few weeks ago.”

Max suddenly knew exactly which one she was talking about. He had liked the place, but something had held him back from committing.

Now, though?

Now, he was very seriously considering signing the papers just for an excuse to see her again.

He leaned in, watching her reaction closely. “And if I were to, say, buy that penthouse?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Then I’d know you had good taste.”

Max grinned. “That’s it?”

She shrugged. “That, and I’d probably have to endure my colleagues freaking out for at least a week.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, then. Guess I have some decisions to make.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes, but he caught the way her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile.

Yeah. He was definitely buying that penthouse.

Max drummed his fingers against the bar, pretending to think. "Alright, so let’s say I do buy that penthouse. Hypothetically."

Isabelle gave him a knowing look. "Hypothetically."

"Would I get a personal consultation?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "That’s not how it works."

"But if I had, I don’t know, questions about the design, or maybe some concerns about the layout, I’d need someone to talk to, wouldn’t I?"

Isabelle swirled the last of her drink in her glass, watching him with an amused glint in her eyes. "Max, are you trying to say you need my number for professional reasons?"

He grinned, tilting his head. "I mean, what if I need an expert opinion? You are the only architect I know."

She sighed in mock exasperation, but he could tell she was entertained. "I really shouldn’t encourage this."

"But you want to," Max countered, smirking.

Her lips twitched, and after a moment’s pause, she reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. "Fine. Give me yours, I’ll text you."

Max typed in his number so fast that she actually laughed. She typed something in her phone. 

A second later, his phone buzzed with a new message.

Unknown Number: Congratulations on your completely unbiased, definitely not suspicious real estate decision.

Max chuckled. "So, what happens if I text you about things that aren’t penthouse-related?"

Isabelle lifted her glass to her lips and said, before taking the last sip, "Guess we’ll find out."

And just like that, Max Verstappen knew he was completely screwed.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

(Unknown Number): Hey, it’s Max.

(Unknown Number): Verstappen.

(Unknown Number): Just in case you know a lot of Maxes.

Isabelle: I don’t.

Max: Good. Would hate to have competition already.

Isabelle: Already?

Max: What can I say? I like you.

Isabelle: You barely know me.

Max: That’s true. But I’d like to change that.

Isabelle: …That was smooth.

Max: Was it?

Isabelle: Surprisingly, yes.

Max: Noted. I’ll add it to my very short list of smooth moments.

Isabelle: Very short?

Max: Tragically short.

Isabelle: I don’t know if I believe that.

Max: I promise, my sister would confirm it.

Isabelle: You have a sister?

Max: Victoria.

Isabelle: Right, I think I’ve seen her before.

Max: Probably. She’d probably like you, by the way.

Isabelle: Oh?

Max: Yeah. She has a good instinct about people.

Isabelle: And what does your instinct say?

Max: That I really, really want to see you again.

Isabelle: You’re very direct, aren’t you?

Max: Is that a bad thing?

Isabelle: No. Just… unexpected.

Max: Well, I can be subtle too.

Isabelle: Can you?

Max: Definitely. For example, I could subtly ask what you’re doing tomorrow night.

Isabelle: …Very subtle.

Max: Thank you. So?

Isabelle: I might be free.

Max: Good. Then I’ll subtly ask if you’d like to have dinner with me.

Isabelle: Are you always like this?

Max: Only when I really like someone.

Isabelle: …Dinner sounds nice.

Max: Perfect. I’ll send you the details.

Isabelle: Looking forward to it.

Max: Me too.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: I met someone.

Victoria: …Okay?

Max: And I think I’m in love.

Victoria: MAX.

Victoria: You literally just met her??

Max: Yes.

Victoria: And you think you’re in love?

Max: Yes.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Victoria: Max.

Victoria: WHAT.

Victoria: HOW.

Victoria: WHY.

Max: I don’t know, Vic. I just know. I met her tonight and I just…I just know.

Victoria: You’ve known her for one night.

Max: Yes.

Victoria: Max.

Max: Vic.

Victoria: Oh my god, you’re serious.

Max: Very.

Victoria: You’re actually gone for her already.

Max: Completely.

Victoria: …Okay.

Max: Okay?

Victoria: Yeah.

Victoria: I mean, I think you’re insane, but if anyone deserves to fall stupidly, recklessly in love, it’s you.

Max: …Thanks, Vic.

Victoria: You deserve to be loved, Max.

Victoria: For who you are. Not because you’re Max Verstappen, two-time world champion, but just because you’re you.

Max: …

Max: I think she sees me that way.

Victoria: Then hold onto her.

Max: I plan to.

Victoria: Is that why you’re texting me at midnight like a lunatic?

Max: …I may have also just bought that penthouse.

Victoria: MAX.

Victoria: YOU HAVE BEEN UNDECIDED ABOUT THAT PENTHOUSE FOR MONTHS.

Victoria: AND NOW YOU MEET A GIRL AND SUDDENLY YOU’RE BUYING IT???

Max: Her architecture firm is working on it.

Victoria: This is why people say Libras are intense.

Max: That’s astrology nonsense.

Victoria: SAYS THE MAN PLANNING A WHOLE FUTURE AFTER ONE CONVERSATION.

Max: I have a good feeling about it.

Victoria: MAX.

Max: What? You just said I deserve to be loved.

Victoria: YES, BUT I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D LOSE YOUR ENTIRE MIND OVER IT.

Max: Too late.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Victoria: You are actually the most ridiculous person alive.

Victoria: But if she makes you happy… then I’m happy for you.

Max: She does.

Victoria: Then that’s all that matters.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Emergency. Crisis. Disaster.

Emilie: That’s a lot of words. What happened?

Isabelle: I have a date.

Emilie: And that’s a disaster because…?

Isabelle: Because it’s with Max Verstappen.

Emilie: …

Emilie: I’m going to need a second.

Emilie:

Emilie:

Emilie:

Emilie: Okay, I’m back. WHAT???

Isabelle: We met at a bar. He asked me out. I said yes. And now I don’t know what to wear. Focus. Help.

Emilie: We met at a bar, he asked me out, I said yes—DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF???

Isabelle: EMILIE. FOCUS. OUTFIT.

Emilie: Right. Okay. Where is he taking you?

Isabelle: Some fancy restaurant. Not too fancy, but still expensive.

Emilie: God, of course. Okay. Simple but elegant. A dress that makes it look like you didn’t try too hard, even though you absolutely did.

Isabelle: Black dress?

Emilie: Obviously. And heels. You own some ridiculous ones. Wear those.

Isabelle: You are suspiciously good at this.

Emilie: Because I have taste. Now, more importantly—DO YOUR BROTHERS KNOW??

Isabelle: …

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: No, they do not.

Emilie: WHY NOT???

Isabelle: Because I don’t want to deal with it.

Emilie: You are dating CHARLES LECLERC’S BIGGEST RIVAL. YOU DON’T THINK THAT’S WORTH MENTIONING???

Isabelle: One date does not mean I’m dating him.

Emilie: YET.

Isabelle: I don’t think Charles would care.

Emilie: …That is the saddest sentence I have ever read.

Emilie: You don’t think Charles would care.

Isabelle: No.

Emilie: Are we talking about the same man??? The one who holds grudges against people for bad karting races from 15 years ago??

Isabelle: I am saying that I am basically invisible in my family, and therefore, he will not care.

Emilie: THAT IS SO DEPRESSING.

Isabelle: It’s just reality.

Emilie: No, it’s tragic. And when Charles inevitably does care, I am going to be so smug about it.

Isabelle: He won’t.

Emilie: He will. And when he finds out from Twitter instead of you, I am going to remind you forever that I was right.

Isabelle: Fine. If he does, I will buy you dinner.

Emilie: And?

Isabelle: And I will admit you were right.

Emilie: Good girl. But first, we need to make sure Max Verstappen is absolutely floored when he sees you tonight. Let’s pick out your dress.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: HELP.

Max: I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Max: I’m serious, Vic. This is important.

Victoria: It’s one date.

Max: Exactly! First impressions matter. What if I wear something stupid?

Victoria: You wear team merch 90% of the time, so that’s a real possibility.

Max: NOT HELPING.

Victoria: Okay, okay. Where are you taking her?

Max: Nice restaurant. Fancy-ish but not too fancy.

Victoria: Alright. Dark jeans, nice shirt, jacket. Clean shoes.

Max: That’s it???

Victoria: Yes, you’re not walking a red carpet, Max.

Max: What if she thinks it’s boring?

Victoria: If she’s going out with you, she probably already knows you’re a little fashion-challenged.

Max: Wow.

Victoria: I’m just saying, if she agreed to a date, she clearly likes you. Just wear something that fits and isn’t Red Bull merch.

Max: I feel like you’re underestimating the stress of this situation.

Victoria: I feel like you’re underestimating the fact that she already said yes.

Max: …Good point.

Victoria: Obviously. Now go find a shirt that isn’t a team polo and try not to overthink it.

Max: No promises.

Victoria: You’re impossible.

Max: And yet, you still love me.

Victoria: Unfortunately. Now go. And don’t text me from the restaurant freaking out.

Max: No guarantees.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: Well????

Isabelle: Well, what?

Emilie: Isabelle. Do not play dumb with me. How did the date go??

Isabelle: …It was really nice.

Emilie: THAT’S ALL YOU’RE GIVING ME?

Emilie: I want DETAILS. Did he show up looking stupidly handsome? Was he nice? Did he make you laugh? Did you kiss him??

Isabelle: Yes, yes, yes, and Yes.

Emilie: YES??

​​Isabelle: I kissed him.

Emilie: !!!!!

Emilie: Details. Now.

Isabelle: It was after our date. He walked me to my door, and I just… kissed him.

Emilie: You just kissed him?? Who are you and what have you done with my overthinking best friend??

Isabelle: Shut up. I didn’t even think about it. I just did it.

Emilie: And???

Isabelle: And then he kissed me back.

Emilie: …That better not be the end of the story.

Isabelle: It was soft. And slow. And he cupped my face like I was something precious.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Emilie: Isabelle, my love. My dearest best friend.

Emilie: You’re done for.

Isabelle: … I know.

Emilie: And how did he look after?

Isabelle: Like he was trying very hard not to kiss me again.

Emilie: Oh, you’re so doomed.

Isabelle: I know.

Emilie: Tell me everything.

Isabelle: He was already at the restaurant when I got there, which was sweet. He pulled out my chair for me. He was nervous, which was insane to me because, you know, he’s Max Verstappen.

Emilie: Boy has driven through Eau Rouge at full speed, but a girl makes him nervous. I love this.

Isabelle: He kept looking at me like I was the most interesting person in the world. Like he actually wanted to hear everything I had to say.

Emilie: I love him already.

Isabelle: You love him?? Emilie, I might actually be in trouble here.

Emilie: Uh oh.

Isabelle: …He sent me flowers.

Emilie: WHAT.

Emilie: When???

Isabelle: They just got delivered.

Emilie: EXCUSE ME.

Emilie: You go on ONE date with Max Verstappen and wake up to FLOWERS???

Isabelle: Apparently.

Emilie: What kind?

Isabelle: Peonies.

Emilie: Belle.

Emilie: He is so in love with you.

Isabelle: It was one date.

Emilie: AND???

Emilie: The man sent you flowers the morning after like he’s starring in a romance novel.

Isabelle: Maybe he just does that?

Emilie: Girl. Be serious.

Emilie: Did he say anything with them?

Isabelle: There was a note.

Emilie: AND???

Isabelle: It just says ‘Last night was perfect. Can’t wait to see you again. – Max’

Emilie: I’M GONNA SCREAM.

Emilie: Max Verstappen is courting you.

Isabelle: Courting is a strong word.

Emilie: He sent you flowers. He is so gone for you.

Isabelle: …Maybe.

Emilie: So… second date?

Isabelle: Saturday.

Emilie: GIRL.

Isabelle: I know.

***

Isabelle Leclerc’s Instagram Post

Comments:

@/emilie_abadie: 👀👀👀

@/F1GossipQueen: That’s a very ‘I have a thoughtful boyfriend’ kind of flower arrangement.

↳@/paddockprincessx: Soft launch era????

@/leclercsiblingtea: If Charles doesn’t know who sent these, I need his live reaction immediately.

↳@/monacogossip: Why do I feel like this is someone wildly unexpected?

↳@/redbullsimpclub: Place your bets now, I’m saying it’s a paddock guy.

↳@/f1shenanigans: If this is from an F1 driver, I am losing my mind.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Isabelle: Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful.

Isabelle: And for yesterday. I had a really nice time.

Max: I’m glad you liked them. 

Max: What’s your favorite flower? For next time.

Isabelle: Snowdrops.

Max: Snowdrops?

Isabelle: Yes?

Max: I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone whose favorite flower is snowdrops.

Isabelle: That’s a shame. They’re beautiful. And they bloom in the cold, when nothing else does.

Max : Like you, then.

Isabelle: …Are you trying to be charming, Max Verstappen?

Max: Is it working?

Isabelle: Maybe.

Max: Good.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen

Sophie: So… Victoria told me something interesting.

Max: She needs a new hobby.

Sophie: Max.

Max: What?

Sophie: Are you in love?

Max: …Maybe.

Sophie: After one conversation?

Max: No! After two conversations.

Sophie: Oh, well, that’s much more reasonable.

Max: Mom.

Sophie: Max.

Max: Look, I just know that it’s different. I’ve never felt like this before.

Sophie: That’s a big thing to say.

Max: I know. But I can’t explain it. It just makes sense.

Sophie: So how did the date go?

Max: …It was perfect.

Sophie: Now we’re getting somewhere.

Max: She’s funny, she’s smart, she actually listens when I talk about racing—like, really listens. And she doesn’t care about the other stuff. The money, the fame. None of it. She just likes me.

Sophie: That’s important.

Max: I know.

Sophie: So when do I get to meet her?

Max: When she doesn’t think I’m a crazy person for how fast I’m falling for her.

Sophie: I hate to break it to you, Max, but you bought a penthouse because her firm is working on it.

Max: …

Sophie: That’s what I thought.

Max: It’s a very nice penthouse.

Sophie: Of course it is.

Max: So you’re not going to say I’m insane?

Sophie: Oh, you are insane. But you’re also my son. And if this makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.

Max: Thanks, Mom.

Sophie: Now tell me, do I need to start planning a wedding?

Max: Goodbye.

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale) 

Arthur: Dinner at Maman’s, Saturday, usual time?

Charles: Yeah, I’ll be there.

Lorenzo: Me too.

Isabelle: I can’t make it, I’m busy.

Arthur: What’s Maman making?

Charles: Probably something with pasta.

Lorenzo: Didn’t she say something about lamb last time?

Arthur: Oh yeah, I think so.

Isabelle: Have fun!

Charles: See you all Saturday.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: Hey, if I were to ask for date advice, purely hypothetically…

Victoria: Oh my God.

Max: What?

Victoria: You NEVER ask for advice. This must be serious.

Max: It’s not that serious.

Victoria: You literally bought an apartment because of this girl.

Max: …That’s unrelated.

Victoria: Sure it is.

Max: So… hypothetically… if I needed some guidance, what would you suggest?

Victoria: Are you actually asking for advice, or are you just hoping I’ll make it easier for you by giving you a list of things not to do?

Max: ...

Victoria: That’s what I thought. Give me a second.

Victoria: Okay, here’s your DO NOT list:

Do not talk about tire degradation.

Do not mention iRacing, no matter how good your last stint was.

Do not wear a Red Bull hoodie.

Do not check F1 news during the date.

Do not turn the date into a competition.

Do not text me mid-date if you panic. Figure it out.

Do not propose.

Max: …That last one was unnecessary.

Victoria: I’m just covering all bases.

Max: I wasn’t going to propose.

Victoria: Good. Then this should be easy for you.

Max: The Red Bull hoodie rule feels unfair.

Victoria: Max.

Max: Fine. No Red Bull hoodie.

Victoria: Thank you.

Max: …Can I at least wear the cap?

Victoria: Max.

Max: Alright, alright. No cap.

Victoria: Proud of you. Now, go be normal.

Max: No promises.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max: Hypothetically. If you were taking someone on a second date. What would you do?

GP: …Why are you asking me?

Max: Because you’re married!

GP: And?

Max: That means you’ve successfully dated someone.

GP: That does not make me a dating expert.

GP: Also, since when do you ask me for relationship advice?

GP: Who is she?

Max: …

GP: Max.

Max:

GP: MAX.

GP: WHO IS IT.

Max: Isabelle.

GP: Isabelle who?

Max: …Leclerc.

GP:

GP: MAX.

GP: CHARLES LECLERC’S SISTER?!?!?!?!?

Max: Yeah, she doesn’t really like being called that.

GP: MAX.

GP: DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?

Max: Not particularly.

GP: HOW DID THIS HAPPEN.

Max: I met her.

GP: OBVIOUSLY.

GP: Where?! When?! How long has this been going on?!

Max:  A few days.

GP: And Charles doesn’t know???

Max: I don’t think he notices much about her.

GP: Okay, that’s a whole other issue, but back to you.

GP: Do you have any self-preservation instincts?

Max: She’s nice. I like her.

GP: THAT IS NOT THE POINT.

GP: Do you realize the incident this could cause?

Max: If I wanted overreactions, I’d have texted Victoria.

GP: I AM REACTING APPROPRIATELY.

GP: What does Victoria think?

Max: She said, "You deserve to be loved."

GP: …Well, that’s suspiciously sentimental.

GP: But also, Charles is still going to kill you.

Max: You’re being dramatic.

GP: AM I?

Max: Are you helping or not?

GP: I AM TOO BUSY PROCESSING YOUR TERRIBLE LIFE CHOICES.

GP: Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Let’s focus.

GP: You need a second date idea.

GP: That does not result in Charles Leclerc murdering you.

Max: I think you’re overestimating how much he pays attention to her.

GP: That’s between them. I am concerned for you.

Max: You’re being dramatic again.

GP: No, I’m being realistic.

Max: …I’ll deal with that when it happens.

GP: Unbelievable.

GP: Alright. Date ideas.

GP: What did you do for the first one?

Max: Dinner. Talked a lot.

GP: What does she like?

Max: Horses.

GP: Horses.

GP: You’re dating someone who likes horses.

Max: Yes?

GP: I feel like that’s relevant information I should’ve had sooner.

GP: Have you ever been near a horse, Max?

Max: Not really.

GP: Okay, no horse-related dates yet. You will get yourself killed trying to impress her.

Max: She’d find that funny.

GP: I wouldn’t.

GP: Let’s keep it simple. Somewhere quiet. Private. Where you can talk.

Max: I was thinking that too.

GP: What about a picnic?

Max: A picnic.

GP: Yeah. You get some good food, go somewhere nice, and just relax. No stress.

Max: Where am I supposed to find a picnic spot?

GP: You have a balcony, Max.

GP: You literally have a balcony with a view.

GP: Just set something up there.

Max: …That’s actually not a bad idea.

GP: Wow. Praise from the great Max Verstappen. I’m honored.

Max: Don’t get used to it.

GP: Okay, what kind of food does she like?

Max: She ordered pasta on our first date.

GP: That’s a start. You could order from the same place.

Max: Or I could cook.

GP: You could what?

Max: I can cook, GP.

GP: Since when?

Max: Since I lived alone?

GP: Okay, sure. But can you cook something that won’t poison her?

Max: Wow. Faith in me is at an all-time low.

GP: Just making sure she survives the night.

Max: I’ll make pasta. It’s simple.

GP: Fine. But don’t experiment. Stick to what you know.

Max: What do you think I’m going to do? Try molecular gastronomy?

GP: I wouldn’t put it past you.

GP: Okay, what else… You need drinks. Dessert.

Max: She likes red wine.

GP: Get a good wine, then. And dessert?

Max: She mentioned liking raspberries once.

GP: So get her something with raspberries.

Max: Got it.

GP: And what about ambiance?

Max: …

GP: Max.

Max: What?

GP: Do you even own candles?

Max: …Victoria gave me some once.

GP: Use them.

GP: And put some effort into setting the table.

GP: You know, for someone who acts like they don’t care about romance, you’re actually putting effort into this.

Max: …She’s worth the effort.

GP:

GP: Damn.

GP: Okay.

GP: You have to survive Charles finding out.

Max: I told you. I’ll handle it.

GP: Yeah, yeah. Just keep me updated.

Max: Sure.

GP: And if you need actual advice, ask Victoria.

Max: I did ask Victoria. She just sent me a list of things not to do.

GP: What was on the list?

Max: "Don’t talk about tire degradation. Don’t mention iRacing. Don’t wear a Red Bull hoodie."

GP: Solid advice.

Max: She also said, "Act normal."

GP: That one might be harder for you.

Max: Wow.

GP: Just being honest.

GP: So, do you have everything planned?

Max: Yeah. I think so.

GP: Good. Now all you have to do is not mess it up.

Max: Thanks for the vote of confidence.

GP: Any time.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: Soooooo... how was the date?

Isabelle: Good.

Emilie: …That’s it? "Good"? You had dinner with Max Verstappen, a man who has clearly lost his mind over you, and all you have to say is "good"???

Isabelle: Fine. Great. Amazing.

Isabelle: Happy?

Emilie: Better. But I’m gonna need DETAILS.

Isabelle: We had dinner, talked a lot, and then I stayed over.

Emilie:

Emilie: EXCUSE ME???

Emilie: YOU STAYED OVER????

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: As in "I fell asleep on the couch watching a movie and went home in the morning" stayed over, or "I am now intimately familiar with Max Verstappen's bedsheets" stayed over???

Isabelle: …

Emilie: ISABELLE.

Isabelle: Nothing happened. 

Emilie: Oh my god.

Emilie: OH MY GOD.

Isabelle: I swear, nothing happened. It just got late and…

Emilie: This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Isabelle: I’m so glad MY love life is giving you entertainment.

Emilie: You don’t understand. I’ve been waiting for you to have an actual romance for YEARS. YEARS, ISABELLE.

Isabelle: You make it sound like I was living in a cave.

Emilie: Emotionally? Maybe a little.

Isabelle: Rude.

Emilie: True.

Emilie: But seriously. How do you feel?

Isabelle: …I don’t know. It’s weird.

Isabelle: He likes me. Like, really likes me. And I’m not used to that.

Emilie: Then get used to it, babe. Because that man? He’s already gone for you.

Isabelle: You think so?

Emilie: I KNOW so.

Emilie: Now tell me: does he have nice bedsheets, or do I need to stage an intervention?

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

GP: Well???

Max: Well, what?

GP: Don’t play dumb. How did it go?

Max: …

GP: MAX.

Max: It went well.

GP: That’s it? That’s all I get after coaching you through this?

Max: What do you want me to say?

GP: I want details. Did she like the food? Did you talk about tire degradation anyway? Did she laugh about your terrible jokes?

Max: She liked the food. No, I did not mention tire degradation. Rude.

GP: Growth. I’m proud of you.

Max: Thanks.

Max: The cats love her.

GP: …THE CATS?! MAX. That is NOT the update I was looking for.

Max: No, but it’s important. They don’t just like people.

GP: I was expecting romance, maybe a ‘we stayed up talking all night’ or ‘she laughed at all my jokes’—and you’re giving me ‘the cats love her’??!

Max: It means a lot! Jimmy and Sassy were literally fighting for her attention. She was just sitting on the couch, and they both climbed into her lap like she was their owner.

GP: …Okay, I’ll admit, that’s kind of a big deal. You’re in love, aren’t you?

Max: I mean… yeah.

GP: I knew it. The cats knew it. Everyone knew it. Charles is gonna lose his mind.

Max: That’s a problem for future Max.

***