#<- new tag because this is gonna become a series

[luludeluluramblings]

tbh I’m more intrigued by the idea of college-age Reader getting pregnant while unmarried still living in the manor and NO ONE has any idea who the father is (maybe she does, but she’s withholding that for now or maybe he’s not in the picture?) and it’s the biggest freak out ever. that just seems so fucking wild and potentially hilarious to me. and nobody noticing she’s pregnant until she’s farther along? or them finding out randomly?? imagine:

damian: you look pregnant. what is wrong with you.

reader: i am pregnant though

the batfam: ????????!!!!!!!!!! and then she proposes that now that she’s old enough and starting a new chapter in her life raising a baby and all she should just move out! (cue everyone disliked that meme)

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Okay, I think I'm about to become a Pregnancy!Reader writer. Which, I'm not mad about. Kind think it would be fun, but I know the trope isn't for everyone. So, if it’s not your thing, I’m sorry.

A/N: Some of this is based off of things from my own pregnancies.

A/N: Oh, no. Frick, I wanna make this a series now. Check the bottom, cause I have a plot idea for this and I want opinions on it. I spiraled, this was supposed to be a quick blurb. I got carried away. Gonna build up to the yandere shenanigans because I’m turning into a writer with a million WIPs.

A/N: Tagging @skay-ali because I like their The Forgotten Daughter series.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Very minor Yandere Themes (like barely there), minor NSFW, graphic descriptions of pregnancy and medical procedures, Vomiting.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You don't really remember that night it happened. But, it only happened once and after you swore you'd never drink again. The hangover after that night had been one of the worst of your short life.

In fact, the sticky feeling between your legs and bitter taste on your tongue had also added to your decision to swear of these college parties. Luckily, you have enough of your memory to remember that you and your partner from that night had both been willing even when wasted. Even if you couldn't remember their name. Or, their face.

It takes you a while to notice. One missed cycle wasn't anything to freak out about, and it was exam season. The stress had probably caused the nausea. It wasn't until you were heading down to breakfast one morning and smelled the burnt eggs in the kitchen that Stephanie had burnt that you realized something might be wrong.

You, of course, ignore it. It was just a fluke. Burnt eggs weren't appetizing to anyone. But, then you nearly faint walking through the perfume section after looking to restock your favorite bottle of scent.

The doctor you finally went to another week later had asked about your cycle and the last time you had been intimate with someone. That's when the reality of things started to set in. You hadn't even thought to do an at home test to check. Your doctor was kind though, saying they could just do a quick urine sample and blood test just to make sure. It might be something else.

The next few minutes felt like ages. But, when the Doctor came back to tell you the positive results you panicked. Not as in panicked as in you broke down, but you threw up a mask. You're good at doing that. You must get it from your father.

When she asks you if this is good news or bad news you can't help, but blurt that it's good. Great even. Which causes her to beam at you. Before you know it, you're being handed a complementary diaper bag with formula and tiny bottles while being given the rundown on your possible due date and future appointments. You nodded you're head along with the information, sliding the paper's into the diaper bag as she hands them to you.

But, then she turns to you with delight and tells you that the Ultra Sound tech has an opening and you're just far along enough they can do your first ultrasound. It'll only be a thirty minute wait.

After nodding along once more, you go back into the waiting room. Holding your new bag with white knuckles and falling into deep thought.

This is happening. But, how? Are you even fit to be a parent? You've hardly ever been loved. How are you going to love someone else? How are you going to do this? What will the family think? What will your few friends think? You don't even remember who their father is. This is impossible. You're not ready. You'll never be ready. That churning feeling is in your stomach again and you feel that single piece of toast you had for breakfast about to come back up.

The thirty minutes fly by with those thoughts in your head. They still swirl in your head as your go back into the ultrasound room.

It's dark, but the tech had few soft lights on in the room. Its actually kind of... cozy.

What's not cozy it the tech telling you that she's going to stick a wand up your bits so you could see the baby. Your eyes screwing shut at the cold invasive feeling.

But, when you open them, she turns the screen for you to see. It's almost amazing how fast the image appears on the screen.

And, their moving. Actually moving. You end up laughing at the sight, causing the screen to flicker and the little blob to move. When the nurse plays the heart beat you can feel yours stuttering in your chest.

Watching them bounce in there with each laugh, it’s easy for the next words to spill out of your mouth.

“Oh, I’m gonna love you.”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Every step after that feels remarkably less lonely. It’s not just you anymore. You have someone who you’re going to love.

You don’t bother telling the Family. Bruce would just lecture you on being reckless while the other’s would judge you for it.

Honestly, you don’t care if they did. This is your baby.

Funnily enough, for a house full of detectives and highly intelligent vigilantes no one actually notices. Not even Cassandra. It’s a bit insulting how much they don’t pay attention. But, your symptoms soon make it so you don’t care.

The waves of exhaustion, the way everything smells strong and certain things make you want to gag. Heartburn that burns your throat. The subtle cravings that make you cry when you can’t fulfill them. Thankfully you finished your exams because you were too tired to even move from your bed most mornings due to strange nightmares.

Eventually, someone does notice. And, it’s not anyone you would expect.

Of all things you cried over on the pantry floor, it had to be salt and vinegar chips. They hadn’t been what you wanted, but it was too late to go get french fries and a smoothie at this hour in Gotham. And, you stuffed them down your throat with angry tears.

It was Stephanie of all people to find you. You gave her a sharp glare when she seemed to grow wide eyed. Normally you avoid her gaze, but you were quite pissed about having chips in your mouth and not fries. As her eyes grew wider, your nose wrinkled in further annoyance at her.

Just as you’re about to tell her off, she speaks.

“Do you— um, want something else?”

It’s pitiful how fast your snarl turns into a pleading pout.

“Yes, please. I want fries. I want Jokerized fries so badly.” You practically blubber when she gives you a pointed nod towards the car garage.

It takes you a bit to get off the floor despite the fact that your bump is hardly noticeable, but Stephanie noticed the extremely subtle curve.

“How far?” She asks hesitantly, looking from the bump to your face.

You also hesitant for a moment, looking up at her with tears on your cheeks and a serious look in your eyes. “14 Weeks.”

Her eyebrows raise and a wiry pout appears on her face. “Damn. You’re smaller than I was at that time, so not fair.”

The slightly surprised that information gives you almost makes you pause. But, if you had you would’ve probably toppled back down to the pantry floor.

“Explain on the way?” You ask, still a bit nervous. The two of you had never been close since you moved into the manor less than a handful of years back.

“Sure.” She grins, leading the way.

As you both walk, she whispers. “Does Bruce know?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Ah.” Stephanie managed to hide the winces from you.

When you two finally make into the car, you’re already feeling better about life. You’re about to have your fries, and possibly a shake too. You didn’t expect to have any company, but surprisingly it’s nice.

Stephanie drives, and get the fries to go. Munching on them as Stephanie drives you back to the manor. Her sharing her own pregnancy experience.

"Wait, so Tim dated you when you were pregnant with another dudes kid? Babe, forget being me being small, you got game."

"Damn right I do." She says smugly, stuffing her own fries in her mouth. "So, um, do you wanna talk about what happened with you?"

And, just like that your mood shifts.

"No."

"Oh- Oh! I'm sorr-" She starts up, and you can tell she's assuming the worst.

"Don't you start, Stephanie." You interrupt with a pointed glare. "I don't want to talk about it because it's none of y'all's business."

That makes her cough on her french fry. "Wait, wait, what do you mean? Don't you want help?"

"Nah, I got it." Comes your stubborn reply, glaring out the window as you dip your fry into the cheesecake milkshake.

"... You should tell Bruce." She suggest after a moment of awkward silence.

"What? So he can ignore his grandchild, too?" Your filter is none existent with your hormones all out of wack.

"He doesn't ignore you-"

"Oh, yes the fuck he does." Your firmly state. Growing a bit heated. "Y'all all figgin do."

Stephanie is about to roll her eyes, chalking your words to you just being unreasonable. But, then the thought starts to creep upon her with each passing building when she realizes this is the first time she's actually hung out with you. Ever.

"I'm sorry." She murmurs to you. The silence falling over you both as the cars continues back to the manor.

"... I'm only forgiving you because you bought my fries..."

"Really?! That's all I had to do?"

"What? I was desperate for this- Wait! Hang on. Stop the car. Stop the car-"

"What? Why?! Are you- OH! Fuck!"

You ended up regurgitating up all the fries you had just eaten. Right into your lap.

"Oooo, that's nasty." Stephanie says, cracking the windows.

"Is it bad that I still want to eat them?" You mumble to her, eyeing the remaining fries.

"Please, please, wait till we get back or I'm gonna hurl, too."

"Fine." Comes your reply. Your eyes drifting shut for a moment. "If you tell anyone I'm gonna tell Cassandra about your crush on her."

"How did you- Frick, you are more like Bruce then I realize." Her voice going from panic to begrudging realization.

"Now, that's offenseive."

"Oh, come on. You're kids gonna have some of Bruce's DNA too."

"Eww. Eww. Don't remind me."

The banter between you both coming back with ease.

When you make it back to the manor, parting ways for the night. You feel at ease. You may have made have finally made a new friend in all this and gained a pillar of support.

As you shower and finish off your fries, you can't help but think about the apartments you had been looking at. Wondering what Stephanie will thinking of your nursery ideas.

Down in the cave, Stephanie slowly walks down the steps. Realizing this might have just gotten complicated.

"You okay, Steph?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Soooooo, what if, and hear me out, wee add some baby daddy drama to this?

A/N: Please note, I write a Reader that DID NOT grow up with the Bat Family, which means we could have some really really juicy drama here. But, we could just keep the options limited to just close friends of the Bat family.

A/N: What do y'all think? Baby Daddy drama? One of the Bat Boys the Daddy? One of the other vigilantes? Should I do a Baby Daddy poll? I just feel like this is an opportunity.

A/N: Also, Stephanie was a teen mom in some comics from my research. Which I think adds to this and gives her a better chance of bonding with Reader until shit goes down.

[bowtiestash]

thinking of possibly using my blog to post book reviews if i ever get around to reading lmao

[boltonbritreads]

🗣️Eddie Munson Fic Recs

This is gonna have a sappy start before I get into the fic rec portion: but I just wanted to say that at the end of May 2022, I was finishing up my first year of law school. It was rough, challenging, lonely, and basically everything you’d expect and I was in a bad place and the fandom I’d been in was slowing down just naturally. I truly wish I could remember how I even became aware of Eddie Munson because stranger things wasn’t really on my radar anymore and whoever I followed at the time that started to veer off into Eddie-mania, thank you. In the two years since then, I’ve graduated and become the worlds babiest lawyer and I genuinely owe a lot to this fandom and community on here for giving me a fun, usually safe, creative place to escape to when it got rough.

I’m just hoping to maybe remind people that there are already an incredible, incredible amount of existing stories to read and talk about that deserve your attention and love if you’re looking to read some Eddie stories. Some of these will be fics I’ve recommended before but I’m going to try my best to pull together writers and fics that I love and think everyone should read in the hopes that someone like me who still scrolls through eddie tags looking for my nightly bedtime story can find something new to them to read! ✨

Previous Fic Rec list here!! some overlap but there’s no such thing as too much hype for these writers

@munson-blurbs I hope it’s ok but I’m linking Bug’s full masterlist here because I have genuinely loved everything she has written. There are blurbs, series, and special events which are all incredible and worth a read! Bug is currently still writing the “Living after Midnight” series which is my current obsession and features rockstar!eddie x motelheiress!reader and it’s angst and lust galore

@corroded-hellfire also sharing the Eddie Masterlist here because there’s so many fics to read!! As You Wish, Big Brown Eyes, Where the Heart Is are all incredible but truly there’s so much here to enjoy

@upsidedownwithsteve SIMMER!! jk I’m actually linking the Eddie Masterlist here too because I love them all but “I Want You To Want Me” and “Simmer” are out of this world

@pinkrelish The Yes Policy I love it, you love it, we all love it and if you haven’t caught up yet oh my god I wish I was you and could read these chapters for the first time again

@ghost-proofbaby I’ve previously told people to go read 24 Hours, and you should, that’s an order; but Maroon is ongoing! and it’s actually infiltrating my every thought so go on over and get caught up bc I think it’s safe to say things are getting amped up

@trashmouth-richie I have also previously recommended Honey, I’m Home because it’s a work of art but Ziggy has a new mini series “Crash + Fall” that I’m completely obsessed with the concept for and I’ve loved every piece so far!

@tiannasfanfic I just reblogged Conviction again but I genuinely am not exaggerating when I say I think about this story and these two monthly and try and find this story all the time to re-read it endlessly. It’s a really lovely story of unplanned pregnancy and two characters not realizing they’ve been smitten for each other the whole time and I love it

@carolmunson I’m sharing another Eddie Masterlist here because I’d be making this post far too long but Carol’s stories are all incredible, complex, and honest. “Let’s go, don’t wait” just got updated and I had to read it like 3 times last night because it was too good to just read one and done

@rebelfell I just discovered Sarah’s blog after reading the most recent “Frenemy” fic and idk what I was doing wrong to not already follow her and not have already read her whole Masterlist but I’m linking the whole thing bc she’s so good!!

@the-au-thor I also only just discovered Elle’s blog and that’s criminal but thank god I found Babysitting Mun because I am a sucker for rockstar!eddie and this series has me on the edge of my seat rn

@storiesbyrhi I’m sharing the Masterlist folks because I have genuinely loved every single story and series and I have read them all now (some several times). So many of Rhi’s stories have a wonderful warm witchy vibe that I crave and I’ve read Siouxsie and the Soulmates, The Cabin in the Woods, Our Patron Saint of the Arts, Vintage Reeboks, and Burning Yarrow (insert screaming fan gif) multiple times now

@heart-eyed-love this fic is the epitome of a soft, cozy, domestic night with Eddie and if you need a hug read this 🥹

@eddieandbird I JUST got caught up on Eddie/Tour Manager series and I’m fully obsessed and desperate to know how they’re gonna navigate this - for folks new to the story, Eddie and his tour manager accidentally drunkenly get married- what could go wrong??

@eiightysixbaby the scream I scrumped when I finished reading Princess Leia, and Other Wishes - look bffs to lovers is already my absolute weakness on this earth but then you had to make it witty and funny and FLUFFY I just can do nothing but re-read and pine

@superblysubpar I’m still obsessed with this addition to The Boy is Mine writing challenge and oh god it’s so good 😩

…and while we’re talking about it - here’s the entire The Boy is Mine masterlist with an INSANE amount of incredible stories to read

@the-unforgivenn !!! tumblr hates me and deleted this bullet (so if you already saw this post, no you didn’t) but And I Need You to Know is a proper novel! I can’t imagine how much time, love, effort, planning, and work went into creating this insane and absolutely incredible world but everyone needs to read this!! and then follow up with She’s So Cold bc I love it and I am so reader

~~ this is not the end nor an exhaustive list! I just wanted to put something out there now that I plan to build on because I know I’m always scrolling and searching for new things to read or old things to revisit ♥️ ~~

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 6

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N.: Thank you guys for commenting and faving the story. I'm always happy to read all you guys tell me! I'm going to try and reply back. Anywho, let the rollercoaster begin.

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5

• ··········· • ············ •

The following week, you restarted the journey to becoming a member of Piltover's society under Esther’s wing. 

The official story was: Your real mother was your aunt, and you had come back to Piltover after your fictional mother died, and because your real mother's maternal instincts were so fine-tuned, your real mother didn't mind that you or anyone else, for that matter, called you her child, and her your mother. Complicated? Yep. It would feed the gossip circles for years, and honestly, you both thrived on the drama.

Clothes were brought, space was made, introductions were done, and the process of making you an official Rainemour in the world was set in motion. 

It felt like home, back to your old Topsider self, with the added extra of waking up, kicking and screaming with the feeling of fingertips on your forehead.

It had been a flurry of new faces, new places, and new customs. You met the house staff, Jaime and Oly, and the cook, Voltaire. While the two keepers lived on the lower floors, Voltaire lived somewhere other than the Cinquefoil building. He had been your mother’s friend for a few years and was the chef at several topside restaurants.

You still hadn't met the elusive Wyllah, but you had found out who she was. She was an art merchant, away on business, but most important, she was your mother’s significant other. Your mother had told you one night, almost in fear, she had found love after your father’s passing. You had blinked and shrugged. Nobody deserved to go through life alone.

Your mother’s life has been quite interesting on this side of the dimension rift. She was a writer, penning a series of fantasy books that magic lovers drank like water. She also found herself advocating for better education in Piltover. All of Piltover, especially the undercity. Esther tried to help those who wanted a chance to change their future.

It was only a matter of time until fate brought her and a certain engineer who also had a like-minded vision together. After that meeting, Esther became a patron of the Talis Lab and the Academy, helping with funding for any projects regarding the betterment of the city. 

And that was the reason why you were now making your way towards a familiar lab in the Academy. A commission for her needed approval and had been delayed long enough with the rocket attack and you appearing out of thin air. Or, according to the gossip, like an illegitimate child. 

“You didn’t need to come along.” She mumbled while pushing the elevator button.

“I wanted to come.” You smiled confidently at her. You wanted everyone to see you and become accustomed to you. It would be beneficial if you wanted to get into the business of saving the world. 

“To check on your friends?”  

You nodded. Before the Herald and the HexAngels, between Jayce becoming a councilor and the hextech showing its true colors, most of your time was divided between the music conservatory, the orchestra, Talis' labs, and home. And from all of those, home was the one you went to less and less with time. Therefore, when allowed to have even a single second of normalcy in a familiar place, you seized it. 

When the elevator dinged, you walked inside with a conviction that was only masking a feeling of nervousness. Yes, you knew this place and the face on the other side of the lab door, but they didn't. You were just a stranger.

“Has it changed much?” Your mother whispered, and you grinned at her.

“Nah, a few artworks and garbage cans. Some names on the doors, but nothing else.” 

“Really? Fascinating.” Her face was deep in thought.

“Stop.” You chuckled, knowing that look. She was taking mental notes. “It’s not that interesting.” 

The elevator pinged and opened again. Instinctively you walked out first, knowing exactly where to go, your mother keeping up with you, scoffing. 

“Well, excuse me if I find it amazing that my child jumped through time and space to save the world.”

“I didn’t save the world.” You rolled your eyes at her.

“Viktor is still alive, isn’t he?” She noted, raising her eyebrows.  

As soon as she finished that sentence, a small thump of a dry explosion was heard inside the hextech lab. Like an empty milk carton was squished with a stomp. 

“I’m sure he’s fine.” She added. 

Another small firecracker-like explosion was heard, prompting you both to look at each other and break into a jog to reach the lab.  

As expected, the door was locked, and although you had told your mom about a lot, the magic part was still something that needed some explanation. So you resorted to the least efficient way to open a closed door: banging on it. 

“Viktor! Jayce?” Esther shouted. A few groans from behind the door warned you there was someone alive inside. Well, capable of moaning in pain was more accurate. 

“Get the enforcers.” You mumbled to your mother; she nodded and raced around the corner. 

As soon as she was out of sight, you pulled your glove off and magically unlocked the door, punching the rune you painted near the lock. The door immediately opened with the force of your hit but didn’t swing open as expected. It hit something and bounced back, slamming shut again while someone grunted in pain on the other side. 

It’s funny how you could know someone from their tiniest squeak. And you knew that groan. You'd know it had it come from the other side of Piltover. Hells, you'd know it if it had been heard through the actual space and time rift. 

Carefully this time you twisted the door handle, opening the door gently and peeking inside the lab.

 Although the curtains were open, a dusty, thick white fog lingered in the air, making the room a shade darker. The floor was littered with tools, gears, and pencils that had fallen from their places, and a pair of goggles was lying on the floor next to a welding machine.

Viktor was sprawled on the ground, leaning back into one of his hands while the other was gently massaging his face. One of his legs was twisted uncomfortably, and the other was bent at the knee in front of him. You could see as he rubbed his face that there was blood coming from somewhere. After a while, he shook his head and looked up at the door.

When he managed to focus his gaze on you, his eyebrows knotted in confusion and then realization. With a sigh, he sat, grabbed the leg that was twisted uncomfortably, and brought it forward. You heard a metallic thud. Hextech leg. Your gaze shifted to his face; you saw the blood coming from his nose, but it didn’t seem broken. Above his eyebrow was a small curved gash, a courtesy of the goggles he probably ripped off his head.

 “We do need to stop meeting like this.” he mumbled, trying to get up with the grace of a baby deer using its long limbs for the first time.

 Putting your glove back on, you took a step closer and offered him a hand, which he accepted with raised eyebrows and a head tilt.

 With more expertise than he was expecting, you grabbed his hand and forearm and pulled him up. Picking this man off the floor had become a skill both you and Jayce obtained a long time ago. His disability unfortunately made him an easy target for misfires. While you and Jayce would easily dodge anything coming your way, Viktor wouldn’t. Couldn’t. And since the fastest way to move him fast was pushing him out of the way, the three of you would end up on the floor, and either you or Jayce would shield Viktor from whatever was malfunctioning at the time. It wasn't your proudest idea, but it worked, and for better or worse, you all would escape relatively unscathed.

 “Like what?” You asked, joining him in dusting off his clothes.

 You patted his back gently, feeling the brace on his spine under his clothes. You didn't find it.

 “After an explosion.” He swished the dust off his coat sleeves. The off-white coat was a tinge darker after the mishap. 

 “Technically, this is the first time we meet after an explosion.” You emphasized the word ‘after’ and he stopped mid-swipe, turning his face back towards you.

 Shrugging, you lifted the corners of your mouth, giving him a grin that he responded to with a chuckle. You looked around the mess that was the lab at this moment and spotted his white cane and his wheeled bench.

You grabbed the cane first and gently pushed the stool so it would roll down next to him. He plopped down with a groan, using the table as leverage. You handed him the cane, and he nodded. You smile at his messy figure.

 “Thank you.” He said, placing the cane between his knees and leaning into it with a heavy sigh.

 “Do you need anything else?” You asked softly, stopping the urge to kneel next to him and take stock of his injuries.

 “There is a first-aid kit somewhere on Jayce's desk. It’s on the...”

 Before he finished the sentence, you jiggled the white box next to him, having already grabbed it when he mentioned it.

 “How did…?” He asked, looking at you questioningly, and panic set in for a second.

 “Oh, my dear boy!” Your mother burst in, followed by several Enforcers, and you sighed in relief. 

 “Is everything alright?” One of the Enforcers said, and you took a step back, leaning against the table behind where Viktor sat.

 “Yes…” Viktor stated while your mother fussed over him.

 One of the enforcers looked at you, and you recognized his eyes. He had been one of the men you had pushed out of your way at the front door of the Academy. You looked at the floor, trying to not provoke the man.

 “Funny. You always seem to appear whenever anything goes boom, don't you?” He spat towards you. 

“Not funny at all.” You replied, your tone serious, trying once more not to escalate the situation. For your sake and the people you cared about who were now looking between you and the Enforcer.

“Maybe we should call Officer Kiraman. I’m sure she would like to know that once again you’re in the vicinity of an attack.” He snarled, and you scowled at him, about to let him have it.

“You are going to call Officer Kiraman over a malfunctioning piece of equipment?” Viktor interrupted, straightening up with a wince while using his cane to get up from the stool. “Do you think she’ll get here before or after reading all the condolence letters sent to her? Or perhaps she will make time on Remembrance Day, right before the speech honoring her deceased mother."

 A pin could be heard through the silence if a pin would have dropped in the lab. The main enforcer was looking at him, mouth hanging open; you and your mother looked at each other and then at a very collected, very serious Viktor. He seemed taller, with his shoulders straight, and you knew that after that tumble he was going to hurt for at least a week, but that didn't stop him from stepping up to the Enforcers. You had forgotten how much sass that man could pack in a single line.

 “When is it going to be, officer?” The engineer shrugged, limping back towards a pile of sheets that had flown back. “I need to tidy up before she gets here.”

 It took the group of Enforcers three seconds to clear out after that, and a collective sigh was heard from the three of you.

 “You’d think being knocked around would make their synapses work faster.” Viktor waved a hand at them, still picking up papers, stopping midway to look at you, like he had just realized you were there. “Not that I agree with knocking around enforcers…or that you knocked around enforcers… I’m just saying…”

 He was flustered, talking with his free hand while his eyes looked around the room. You chuckled, and he stopped when he heard you. 

 “You’re just saying…?” You teased, rolling your hand for him to keep going.

“Nothing of importance, I suppose.” He turned back to the table.

 “I was hoping you could show me the reader.” Esther announced, grabbing a few nuts and bolts and placing them next to Viktor. “But I imagine it's not functioning.”

 Viktor turned to her, realizing finally why you were both there. He smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck.

 “Well, yes and no.” He said, tilting his head from side to side. “The explosion wasn’t it, but it was a component that I was trying to recreate to use in another experiment.”

 “And now both are fried.” You answered by crossing your arms. 

“Well…yes. But if you give me a few hours, I can make it work, at least for the reader. The other thing will wait, I guess…” he said quickly. “Better yet, give me a few minutes so I can get it, and I can at least show you what I have for now.”

“It's quite alright, dear. Take your time. We can just come back another time.” Esther said, and part of you felt disappointed. 

 Your second home was right here.

“That would hardly be fair. You’ve made it here. Give me a few minutes, an hour tops.” He was limping around waving his hand and cane.

“I suppose I do need to speak with Councilor Salo.” Your mother shrugged nonchalantly. “Do you want to—”

“No.” You cut her off. “Not really. You go ahead. I’ll get reacquainted with the Academy.”

“Reacquainted?” Viktor inquired, looking towards you.

“Last time I was here, I didn’t exactly take the scenic route.” You covered your mistake with an easy joke, and he chuckled at it.

• ············ •

You managed to walk around the Academy undisturbed. It was weird to walk around the familiar corridors, passing by people you knew and fighting the urge to say hello and strike up a conversation. It was awfully lonely, seeing everyone going about their lives, never knowing about you.

 Although it saddened you, you understood that it wasn’t because you weren’t needed in their lives but because fate found a way to replace you. Maybe you hadn’t saved Sky from falling down the stairs in this universe, because maybe her classroom was on the same floor she was at.

As you wandered, you found yourself in a corridor with very recognizable double doors. The Council Chamber was guarded by several guards, and you felt the morbid curiosity to see if the room was the same as it was in your time. 

As you searched your brain for a way to bypass the guards, a familiar whispering in your ear. The rune from the elevator flashed behind your eyes. The one you hadn’t managed to make work. You took your gloves off again and drew the symbol in a railing, disguising it as an absent movement as you looked down to the courtyard. You let it go, and nothing happened for a couple of seconds.

And then the groaning of metal grinding against another surface filled your ears. Your eyes turned upwards as you saw the metal spike that held the Academy’s banner to the stone ceiling give way and slip. The heavy banner made a swoosh noise as it fell, and your eyes widened. 

You saw the Enforcers run towards the elevator and the stairs. You turned your back to them and waited until their hurried footsteps had softened. 

Quickly you made your way to the chamber through the door you had burst open. A new door had been placed and locked, but you unlocked it with three swipes of your fingers.

 The chamber room was as spacious as you remembered, the hole in the dome a grim reminder that those who sat in this room were as vulnerable as everyone else in the city. You remembered Viktor’s diagram, looking around at the empty and cracked chairs. Most of the smaller debris had been cleaned off, leaving only the big and medium chunks. The ones that couldn't just be carried off by crewmen. The sun shone high and bright in the clear sky, illuminating the whole room, the long pieces of the damaged dome casting a shadow on the floor.

You touched parts of the smooth stone that were still intact and walked toward the edge of the room, feeling the wind on your face. It had been an awakening to these people, but not the one that Piltover needed. This whole region forgot how hard it is to break a rope and how easy it is to break a strand. Only in the end did they figure out that the many are more powerful than the few. That blood, once spilt, is equally red whether it is from Zaun or Topside.

Closing your eyes, you stood for a moment, somewhat grieving what had been the beginning of the end.

(Nemo - The Code)

Welcome to the show. Let everybody know I’m done playing the game. I’ll break out of the chains.

Until the wind started whispering in your ear and your eyes shot open. What looked to be blue dust started to float like specks of dust toward the middle of the room, and you followed the flow. There was nothing there. But there could be. 

You better buckle up; I'll pour another cup. This is my bohème, so drink it up, my friend.

 Your hand moved unconsciously, drawing the rune in the air like it was second nature. You pushed it out with a flick of your hand. Like in the graveyard, it divided itself into several wisps of light and quickly moved toward parts of the broken table and chairs. A familiar rune appeared, but so did many others. Some are more complicated, others just little flicks of light. Shining bright in the middle of the rubble or being illuminated by sunlight.

I went to hell and back. To find myself on track, I broke the code.

 You walked towards what had been the middle of the cog-like shape and watched as the wisps danced around. Looking around, you noticed the runes were surrounding you, pulsating like a heartbeat; you noticed your hand doing the same, in rhythm with the wisps. You saw a small piece of rubble that had been missing by the cleaning crew and took a deep breath. 

“Here goes nothing.”

Let me tell you a tale about life, 'Bout the good and the bad; better hold on tight.

 Starting with the rune in front of you, you carved it on the floor, the piece of rubble in your hand serving as a makeshift chalk. You kept carving the runes on the floor in front of where they appeared in the air. The world around you faded, and your vision became focused.

 See the rune, and trace the rune on the floor. 

Let me taste the lows and highs; let me feel that burning fright.

It was automatic; you didn’t think or even study the rune. At some point, you felt like it was the rune commanding you to write, rather than your desire to write them. And even though it was akin to someone using your arm and hand to do this, it never felt like you couldn’t stop. 

 It was almost cathartic.

Somewhere between the O's and ones, that's where I found my kingdom come.

 When you found yourself at the beginning of the circle of runes, you stopped and took a step back. The wisps had disappeared, but you could see a faint light throbbing under the scratched runes. 

 It looked so unbelievably perfect for something that you had scratched on the floor with a piece of cement. Every space between runes was precise, and the little ticks and dots were perfectly balanced. 

 With that amount of rigor, it was easy to see something was missing, a single wisp in the spot where the cog table opened. Familiar strokes. Ones you’ve been looking at ever since you woke up in the hospital. 

 You looked at your palm, the rune there shining so bright it almost burned. Taking a few steps towards the space, you shook your hand in the air and slammed it into the slot.

My heart beats like a drum.

The whole room shook, and for a second you got scared, but when the runes started ungluing themselves off the ground and quickly zapping around different parts of the table, you became too fascinated with the show to care.

 If the building fell, you don’t think you’d even notice.

 Every piece of wreckage, big or small, started floating above you, aided by strands of magic that pushed and pulled and moved different pieces toward different places. Their rightful places. Once a piece found its match, it was welded together by a flash of blue light, leaving them complete with a trace of metallic blue where the crack had been.

I went to hell and back. To find myself on track, I broke the code.

 You noticed the same thing happening in the chairs, and by the end of the magic show, the table and the chairs were floating around you. Slowly drifting and turning into their right position. Until they wafted back down to the floor with an incredible low thud.

 It was almost overwhelming once it was all over how the silence settled around you. The runes on the floor disappeared, your hand stopped glowing, and the table was complete, whole, pieced together by little blue veins. The only thing you heard was the birds outside, the wind through the damaged dome, your heavy breathing, and the clunk of a metal cane hitting the floor.

 Your neck snapped at the sound, and you saw a wide-eyed Viktor standing in front of the side door you had entered.

 “Your… your mother is… She’s looking for you.” He stuttered.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ homecoming

chapter summary: While giving a guest lecture at your alma mater, you run into two people you never expected to meet.

word count: 9.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: the ending of this is kind of the set up for every other chapter; you'll see what i mean when you read it :)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, shy!reader, mention of absent parents, oral (f!receiving) fluff, slight angst

series masterlist - chapter 2 → chapter 4

“When two particles interact, they become linked, no matter how far apart they are. Changing one affects the other instantaneously, faster than light…”

Your voice faltered as you glanced at Logan, who sat at one of the desks, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with a small, amused smile. He wasn’t even trying to hide how much he adored you. You could practically feel it radiating off of him.

You froze mid-step, letting out a soft sigh. “This isn’t going to work,” you said, taking off your glasses and rubbing the bridge of your nose.

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “What’s not gonna work, sweetheart?”

“This,” you gestured toward him, exasperated but fond. “You’re looking at me like my husband, not a bored college student who probably only showed up because there’s free food after the lecture. How am I supposed to practice if you’re just… swooning at me?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “Swooning, huh? Don’t think anyone’s ever accused me of that before.”

You crossed your arms, trying to appear stern, but the warmth in his gaze made it impossible. “I’m serious, Logan. I need honest feedback, not… whatever this is.”

Pushing himself up from the chair, Logan walked toward you, his hands finding your waist as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Alright, darlin’. Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll make it more realistic for you.”

“Logan—” you started to protest, but he was already heading toward the door, a sly grin on his face.

When he returned, you were taken aback. Logan had enlisted some of the younger students—Rogue, Bobby, and Kitty, among others—and had them seated in the classroom. To keep things authentic, he had provided them with snacks and, you suspected, strict instructions to act as uninterested and distracted as possible. Rogue was already doodling on her notebook, Kitty was whispering something to Bobby, and Jubilee was tapping her pen loudly on the desk.

You frowned, looking at Logan as he leaned casually against the wall near the door. “You know I already teach them, right? This isn’t exactly a new audience.”

Logan shrugged, that trademark smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, but they’re good at actin’ like they don’t care. Go on. You’ve got this.”

Rolling your eyes, you adjusted your glasses and turned back to face the room. The students quieted down a little, though their expressions remained deliberately bored. With a deep breath, you launched back into your explanation, this time ignoring Logan’s soft chuckles in the background.

---

Later that evening, after the impromptu lecture had ended and Logan had dismissed the students, you found yourself in the library, curled up in one of the oversized chairs with a book. Logan entered quietly, his presence impossible to miss as he sat down on the arm of your chair.

“You did great, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and warm.

You glanced up at him, a small smile on your lips. “You think so?”

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “I know so. You’re brilliant. Just had to make sure you believed it.”

Feeling a little less shy, you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Thank you, Logan. For always believing in me.”

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Always, darlin’.”

For a moment, the world seemed to still, and it was just the two of you, together in the quiet.

---

“Well, if there are no more questions…” Robert, one of the faculty at Stanford, looked out into the audience, giving a polite nod toward the murmuring crowd. “Alright, thank you, Mrs. Howlett, for coming all this way for us.”

The room began to stir as students shuffled in their seats, gathering their belongings. A few polite claps echoed, mingling with the hushed sounds of conversation. “There are some food and drinks out in the hall if you’d—ah, no point,” Robert trailed off as half the students ignored him, funneling toward the exit.

You stood by the podium, your heart still racing slightly from the presentation. Public speaking wasn’t your forte, but Stanford was your alma mater, and you’d been determined to deliver a polished talk. From your vantage point, you spotted Logan lingering near the back, his arms crossed, a half-smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t bother to hide the pride in his expression.

As the room emptied, Logan made his way toward you. His heavy boots echoed in the quieting auditorium, his presence grounding as always. “Told ya it’d go fine,” he said as he stopped in front of you.

You smiled, still a little flustered. “Yeah, well… you’re biased.”

Logan snorted. “Sure. But it doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with a surprising gentleness. “Proud of you, darlin’. Bet half of them couldn’t keep up, but that’s their loss.”

Rolling your eyes, you adjusted your glasses. “Thanks, Logan. That was—”

“—adorable? Endearing? Downright brilliant?” he offered, smirking.

“Not what I was going to say,” you replied with a laugh, shoving his arm lightly. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

He stepped aside to let you lead the way, trailing comfortably behind you. Once outside, you were both met with the sharp, sunny California afternoon, a stark contrast to the cool Westchester climate you were used to. The warmth in the air was matched by your mood—light, content, maybe a little relieved.

But before either of you could make it to the parking lot, a voice called from behind.

“Excuse me! Y/N?”

You froze mid-step, the hair on your arms standing on end. Logan instantly noticed your shift, his body tensing as he placed a steadying hand on your lower back. Turning slowly, you were met with the sight of an older couple, a man and a woman in their late fifties or early sixties. The man wore a sharp suit, the woman a tasteful blazer, though they both looked somewhat uncertain, hesitant.

The woman took a step forward. “Hi… I—I know this is sudden, but…” Her gaze searched yours for recognition, but there was none. Her voice softened. “We’re your parents.”

Your stomach dropped.

The words hung in the air like they weren’t real, their weight pressing down on your chest. Your first instinct was to laugh, to brush it off as some cruel joke, but their expressions didn’t shift. They were hopeful. Nervous.

Logan’s hand tightened ever so slightly against your back, a subtle reminder that he was there. You swallowed hard, taking a shaky breath as your mind struggled to catch up.

“I—I don’t…” you stammered. “Why now?”

The man, your supposed father, winced. “That’s a fair question. We—well, we’ve always regretted not reaching out sooner.”

“Sooner?” The word caught in your throat as you tried to process. “I’ve been alive for twenty-seven years. You could’ve called. Written. Literally anything. But you didn’t. And now, suddenly—”

“We’re sorry,” the woman interrupted softly, her eyes glossy. “We want to get to know you, if you’ll let us. Maybe… dinner? Tonight?”

You flinched at the suggestion, glancing at Logan. His jaw was tight, his gaze scrutinizing, but he didn’t speak, letting you handle this at your own pace. For a moment, you wanted him to step in, to tell them off for their audacity. But you shook the thought away, taking another deep breath.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally managed, your voice flat. “Can I… get back to you?”

They nodded quickly, a mixture of relief and sadness flickering across their faces. “Of course,” your father said. “Here—” He handed over a business card, the expensive stock and minimalist design further underlining the contrast between their lives and the one you’d known.

After a few more polite murmurs, they walked away, leaving you standing there in stunned silence.

---

Back at the hotel, you paced the room restlessly while Logan sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with a mix of concern and quiet protectiveness. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Darlin’,” he said gently, “you don’t owe them anything.”

You stopped, turning to face him. “But what if I do? They’re my parents, Logan. My parents. And I don’t even know why they gave me up. What if it was something… unavoidable? What if they’ve changed?” You ran a hand through your hair, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose. “What if I’m just being a coward by not hearing them out?”

Logan stood, crossing the room in two strides to stand in front of you. His hands rested on your shoulders, grounding you. “Coward? No. You’re not that. But you don’t gotta torture yourself trying to fix somethin’ that ain’t your fault.”

His words soothed a little of the storm inside you, but they didn’t erase it entirely. “I know,” you murmured, leaning into his touch. “But if I don’t go, I’ll always wonder. I just…” You hesitated, looking up at him. “I don’t want to do it alone.”

His expression softened instantly. “You think I’d let you?” he said, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “If you decide to meet ‘em, I’ll be there. No question. Always.”

The weight in your chest lifted slightly. With Logan, it didn’t feel as scary. You nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it. Dinner.”

Logan pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “Alright, sweetheart. But just say the word, and we’re outta there.”

---

You fiddled with the edge of your dress, keeping your gaze down from your ‘parents’ across the small restaurant table. The world around you was warm and inviting—the soft clatter of plates, the low hum of conversation—but it might as well have been silent. Your parents, the very people who had abandoned you as a child, now sat across from you, smiling as though they’d earned this moment.

Logan, ever your anchor, sat beside you, his hand resting lightly on your knee under the table. The subtle pressure was calming, a wordless reminder that he was here, that you weren’t alone in this. You took a steadying breath and finally looked up to meet their gazes.

“So,” your mother began, her tone almost too casual, as though she were trying to bridge a lifetime of absence with small talk. “How long have you and Logan been together?”

You hesitated, glancing at Logan. He gave you an encouraging nod, his expression unreadable to anyone but you. “About a year and a half,” you said finally. “We got married six months ago.”

“Married already?” your father said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s… fast, isn’t it?”

“Not when you know it’s right,” Logan said smoothly, his voice low and steady. He leaned back in his chair, his arm now draped along the back of yours. Though he appeared relaxed, you could sense the subtle tension in his posture. He was watching them, every word and movement, like a hawk.

Your mother smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And where do you work now? Still at Stanford?”

“No,” you replied, shaking your head. “I teach physics at a school in New York.”

“Physics,” your father repeated, his tone carrying a trace of surprise. “That’s impressive. Your grandmother always did say you were smart.” He sipped his wine, glancing briefly at Logan. “And Logan? What do you do?”

“I’m a teacher too,” Logan said simply, his gaze unwavering.

Your mother tilted her head, clearly not expecting that answer. “Oh? What subject?”

“History,” Logan replied. His tone was polite enough, but you could tell he was tiring of the scrutiny.

You shifted uncomfortably, eager to steer the conversation away from Logan. “What made you decide to reach out now?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended but firm.

Your parents exchanged a quick look, and your mother’s smile faltered. “Well,” she began, folding her hands in her lap, “we’ve been thinking about you for a long time. And after your grandfather passed recently…” She trailed off, her expression turning somber.

Your chest tightened at the mention of your grandfather. Though your grandparents had divorced long before you were born, you’d had a close relationship with him growing up. Although, it had fizzled out when she died, he still made sure to send you letters every holiday.

Your father cleared his throat, his voice gentler now. “He left something for you in his will. A substantial inheritance. We thought it was important that we deliver the news personally.”

You blinked, stunned. “What?”

“He wanted you to have it,” your mother added quickly, as if that somehow justified their sudden reappearance in your life. “He left… quite a bit of money. Enough to make a difference.”

The words hung in the air like a lead weight. You glanced at him, and his jaw was set, his eyes sharp as they flicked between your parents.

“So, let me get this straight,” Logan said, his voice low and cutting. “You didn’t want her. Didn’t care enough to reach out for twenty-seven years. But now that there’s money involved, you’re here playin’ happy family?”

Your father bristled, his gaze hardening. “That’s not fair.”

“No?” Logan shot back, his tone daring him to argue. “Sounds pretty accurate to me.”

Your mother opened her mouth to respond, but the ringing of Logan’s phone cut through the tension. He pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. “It’s Jean,” he muttered to you, standing. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As Logan stepped away, your parents exchanged another look before your father let out a quiet scoff. “That’s who you married?” he said under his breath, though he didn’t bother to lower his voice enough for you to miss it.

Something in you snapped.

“That’s who I married,” you said sharply, your voice louder than you intended. Both of them turned to look at you, startled. “The man who’s been there for me every single day. Who loves me, supports me, and makes me feel like I matter. Unlike the two of you, who couldn’t even be bothered to stick around when I needed you.”

Your mother’s eyes widened. “We—”

“No,” you interrupted, standing now, your hands trembling. “You don’t get to explain. You don’t get to waltz into my life after nearly three decades and act like you care. You gave me up. You made that choice. And you don’t get to make me feel guilty for not wanting to play along with whatever this is.”

The restaurant was quiet now, other diners casting wary glances your way, but you didn’t care. You grabbed your bag, your heart pounding. “If Grandpa wanted me to have the money, fine. But don’t pretend you’re here for me. You’re here because you know you have no claim to it, and you’re hoping I’ll feel sorry enough for you to share.”

Your father’s face hardened, but your mother looked close to tears. As you turned to leave, you caught sight of Logan standing just outside the restaurant’s glass door, his expression unreadable. You knew he’d heard every word, his enhanced hearing ensuring he hadn’t missed a thing.

When you stepped outside, his arms were around you instantly, pulling you close. “You okay, darlin’?” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

You nodded against his chest, the weight of the confrontation beginning to lift. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I am now.”

Logan pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his grip tightening slightly. “Proud of you,” he said simply, and those three words meant more than anything else in that moment.

As you walked away from the restaurant together, hand in hand, you felt lighter. Logan was your family now, and with him, you had everything you needed.

---

Logan paced quietly near the small dresser in the hotel room, the dim light catching on the hard line of his jaw. You sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing your dress over your knees, the faint hum of the air conditioning filling the space. The weight of the confrontation had lifted slightly, replaced by a strange, bittersweet relief.

“Feel okay?” Logan asked, his voice soft, breaking the silence. He stopped pacing, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed as he looked at you.

You nodded, offering a small smile. “I think I do. It’s like… I finally said everything I’ve wanted to say for years. I’m not sure I even care about the inheritance. It’s just nice to have it out.”

Logan stepped closer, his movements measured, his eyes searching yours. “You were incredible back there,” he said. “I meant it when I said I was proud of you. Standing up for yourself, for us—it wasn’t easy, but you didn’t back down.”

His words sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the room. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You felt the bed dip slightly as he sat down beside you, his arm coming to rest around your shoulders. He didn’t rush you, just sat there, his presence solid and grounding.

“You sure you’re fine?” he asked again, his fingers brushing against your shoulder in a light, comforting touch.

You tilted your head to look at him, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose. “I’m sure,” you said firmly this time, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “Especially with you here.”

Logan’s eyes softened, a small smirk forming as he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re stronger than you think, sweetheart.”

His hand slid from your shoulder to the curve of your waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your dress. The touch was subtle, almost absentminded, but it sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into him, your breath catching as his lips found the corner of your mouth.

“Logan,” you murmured, a hint of hesitation in your voice.

“Hmm?” His lips moved along your jaw, slow and deliberate, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re good, right? Tell me to stop if you need to.”

You shook your head, your hands finding his chest. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That was all he needed to hear. Logan’s lips claimed yours fully, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck. The kiss was slow but deep, his tongue teasing against yours, drawing a quiet moan from your throat. His other hand slid lower, skimming the edge of your dress before tugging it slightly higher, his fingers brushing the bare skin of your thigh.

“You’re wearing this damn thing to kill me, aren’t you?” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough with need.

You flushed, a soft laugh escaping. “It’s just a dress.”

“It’s more than just a dress,” Logan said, his hand gripping your thigh, pulling you closer. His lips moved to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. “It’s you in it.”

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed your pulse point, your hands clutching at his shirt. “Logan…”

"Let me take care of you, darlin’," Logan murmured, his voice low and intimate. Before you could respond, he was guiding you back onto the bed, his hands sliding up your legs, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. His touch was firm yet deliberate, each movement precise and confident, like he already knew exactly what you needed.

The hem of your dress bunched at your hips as Logan settled between your legs, his rough hands warm against your thighs. His eyes met yours, the intensity there enough to send your heart racing. "Still okay?" he asked softly, his voice steady, but his grip tightened slightly, grounding you.

You nodded, breath hitching slightly. "I’m fine, Logan. Really."

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Good. ‘Cause I’m not stoppin’ unless you tell me to."

His hands pressed your thighs open further, his gaze locked on the spot where your panties were already damp. He hooked his thumbs into the fabric and dragged it down slowly, the rough pads of his fingers grazing your skin and making you shiver. The cool air of the room hit you, but Logan’s warm breath soon replaced it, and you squirmed in anticipation.

"Patience," he muttered, his tone edged with teasing as his hands slid back up your legs, spreading them wider. His lips pressed to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving a trail of kisses that grew closer and closer to where you ached for him most.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible. It wasn’t a plea—it was a need, a longing you couldn’t contain.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I know," he murmured, his breath hot against you. Then his mouth was on you, his tongue moving with slow, deliberate strokes that had your hands clutching at the sheets. Logan worked with a practiced precision, the rough scrape of his stubble against your skin contrasting perfectly with the soft heat of his tongue.

Your head fell back against the pillows as a quiet gasp escaped your lips. The tension in your body began to melt away, replaced by a wave of warmth and pleasure that only he could give. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, keeping you in place as he delved deeper, his tongue exploring every sensitive spot with maddening care.

"You taste so fuckin’ good," he said against you, his voice a low growl that sent a fresh surge of heat through your body. He glanced up briefly, his lips glistening. "Could stay here all damn night."

You bit your lip, your hands reaching down to thread through his hair, the soft strands catching between your fingers. "Logan," you whispered again, more insistently this time. The sound of his name seemed to spur him on, his tongue circling that sensitive bundle of nerves before sucking gently, drawing a shuddering moan from you.

His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you steady as your hips jerked reflexively against his mouth. Logan groaned low in his throat, the vibrations sending another jolt of pleasure through you. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow, just kept up the steady rhythm that had your body trembling beneath him.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he muttered against your skin, his voice rough, his lips brushing the slick heat between your thighs. "Love hearing those sounds you make."

You swallowed hard, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. "Logan... please," you murmured, your fingers curling tighter in his hair, urging him closer.

"Please what?" he rasped, his lips pressing kisses along your inner thigh before returning to where you needed him most. His tongue flicked over your clit again, and you nearly cried out, your back arching off the bed.

Your voice was barely above a whisper. "Don’t stop."

Logan smirked against you, his hands shifting to grip your hips, pulling you closer to his mouth. "Didn’t plan on it, darlin’."

He was relentless, his tongue teasing and stroking in ways that made your head spin. The sensation built steadily, your body tightening as the heat coiled low in your belly. You couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel as he worked you over, his stubble rough against your skin and his tongue unyielding.

"Oh- Logan," you gasped, your thighs trembling against his shoulders. He hummed in response, the sound low and guttural, his hands flexing against your hips.

The tension inside you snapped suddenly, and your entire body arched as a wave of heat and pleasure crashed over you. You cried out, your fingers tugging at his hair as you rode out the aftershocks, your thighs quivering in his grasp. Logan didn’t stop until you were squirming, pushing weakly at his shoulders as the sensation became too much.

He finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening as he looked up at you with a satisfied grin. "There’s my girl," he murmured, his voice soft but edged with pride.

You let out a shaky breath, your head falling back against the pillow as you tried to steady your racing heart. Logan moved up the bed, settling beside you, his hand brushing against your arm as he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple.

"You good?" he asked, his voice quiet, almost tender.

You nodded, your breath still uneven. "Yeah. I’m good."

Logan stretched out beside you, pulling you close until your head rested against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat grounding you. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, his other arm draped over your waist.

"Meant what I said earlier," he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence. "You were amazing tonight. Stood your ground, didn’t take any crap. Made me proud, sweetheart."

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you tilted your head to look at him. "Thank you," you said softly, your voice steady now.

Logan leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You don’t gotta thank me for telling the truth."

You settled back against him, your body relaxing completely for the first time all evening. Logan’s hand stayed firm on your back, his thumb tracing idle patterns against your skin as the quiet settled between you.

In that moment, there was no past, no lingering tension from the confrontation earlier. Just you and Logan, tangled together on the bed, his presence steady and unshakable.

---

You walked into the kitchen, the scent of freshly baked cookies still wafting in the air. Your eyes immediately caught Logan, mid-action, reaching for one of the chocolate chip cookies you and Jean had finished less than 30 minutes ago.

Before he could take a bite, you hurried over, grabbing his wrist. "Wait! I wanted that one!"

Logan looked down at you, raising an eyebrow in mild amusement. "There’s more right here, darlin’," he said, nodding toward the plate piled high with cookies on the counter.

You shook your head stubbornly, crossing your arms while keeping your hand on his wrist. "But I don’t want those," you said. "I want that one."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "They’re all the same, sweetheart," he teased, holding the cookie just out of reach and starting to lift it toward his mouth. "Bet you wouldn’t even know the difference."

"I would," you shot back quickly. "That’s the one I want, Logan."

He smirked, his lips curling around the edges of the cookie as if to bite into it anyway, just to prove a point. Your eyes narrowed, and you acted on pure instinct.

Leaning in quickly, you pressed your lips to his, a fleeting but deliberate kiss. The move startled him just enough to loosen his grip, giving you the perfect opportunity to snag the cookie out of his hand.

"Ha!" you exclaimed triumphantly, taking a step back and holding the cookie aloft like it was a trophy.

Logan blinked, recovering from the surprise, and his smirk deepened into a full grin. "Did you just—" he started, shaking his head as his laughter spilled out. "That’s dirty play, darlin’. Using a kiss to steal it? You’re lucky you’re cute."

You bit into the cookie with an exaggeratedly smug expression, savoring the sweet, warm taste. "Lucky has nothing to do with it," you replied between bites.

He stepped toward you, a playful gleam in his eyes. "You know that’s not gonna fly, right? No one steals from me and gets away with it."

You tried to dart around the island, but Logan was too quick. He caught you easily, one arm looping around your waist to pull you close. You squealed, half-laughing, holding the half-eaten cookie out of his reach.

"Let me finish it!" you said, your voice muffled by laughter.

"Not a chance," Logan murmured, his nose brushing against your cheek. "Not after that stunt."

"Logan!" You wiggled in his grip, still laughing, trying not to crumble what remained of the cookie.

He dipped his head closer, murmuring low against your ear, "Fine. You win. This time." Then, with one swift motion, he stole a bite of the cookie you were holding, his smirk more self-satisfied than ever as he pulled back.

"Hey!"

"What? Just evening the score," he said, popping the stolen bite into his mouth.

The playful bickering turned to more laughter as you stayed in the kitchen, Logan’s hold never loosening entirely. Jean walked in a moment later, glancing between the two of you, her hands on her hips.

"You two do realize there’s a whole plate of cookies, right?" she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

"It’s not about the cookie, Jean," Logan replied smoothly, casting you a wink that made your cheeks heat. "It’s the principle of the thing."

Jean rolled her eyes. "You two are ridiculous. But at least now I know who I should’ve made extra for."

Still tucked against Logan’s side, you shot her a sheepish grin. "It’s his fault," you said, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

Jean just shook her head, smirking. "Sure it is," she said before grabbing a cookie and walking out of the kitchen, leaving the two of you tangled together in the aftermath of your very serious cookie standoff.

Logan’s grip stayed firm as he kissed your temple, murmuring, "You’re somethin’ else, you know that?"

"Is that a bad thing?" you teased, nibbling at the remaining bite of your cookie.

"Not even close," he said with a warm grin, his thumb tracing a slow, reassuring pattern against your waist.

---

Logan grumbled at his desk, glaring at the stack of papers in front of him like they owed him money. Being the history teacher wasn’t exactly his dream job, and grading exams just reinforced how much he hated it.

"How the hell do you mess up World War II?" he muttered under his breath, flipping through yet another exam where half the essay was about Napoleon. "Wrong war, wrong damn century."

Arms came around his neck from behind, your soft sleep shirt brushing against his skin. “You’re gonna tear that paper from how hard you’re grippin’ it.”

Logan’s scowl softened as your voice cut through his frustration, and the stiff set of his shoulders relaxed just a little. He glanced over at you, leaning against him with sleepy eyes and tousled hair, clearly fresh from bed. You were wrapped up in one of his old flannel shirts, sleeves hanging past your hands, paired with soft, fuzzy sleep pants. The sight alone made him feel warmer.

“Kid deserved it,” he muttered, though his tone had lost its bite. He held up the offending exam. “Wrote about Napoleon in World War II. Napoleon. You believe that?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, lips brushing against the edge of his ear as you leaned closer. “Maybe they figured he’d make a comeback.”

“Yeah, well, if he did, he’d still lose.” He dropped the paper onto the growing pile with a grunt and tilted his head back to look up at you. “What’re you doin’ up? Thought you were out cold.”

“I was,” you murmured, fingers absentmindedly tracing the line of his jaw. “You weren’t there.”

Logan stilled for a moment, his sharp gaze catching yours even upside down. That quiet admission—so simple, so soft—always hit him deeper than he cared to admit. He reached up, catching your hand in his larger one, and brought it down to rest against his chest.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, voice lower now, rough around the edges like it always was when he spoke to you. “Go back to bed. I’ll join you in a bit.”

You stayed still, your other arm still looped around his neck as you leaned more of your weight against him. “You’ve been at this for hours,” you said softly, glancing at the remaining stack of exams. “You’ll fall asleep right here at the desk.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Logan said with a slight smirk, but when you didn’t let go, he sighed. “You don’t quit, do ya?”

“Not when it comes to you,” you answered with an ease that made his chest tighten.

A small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned in his chair, his hands landing lightly on your waist to steady you. “Alright, darlin’. You win.” He stood, forcing you to step back slightly, though he kept one hand on your hip as if afraid you’d float away otherwise. “But if I see Napoleon showin’ up in another World War II exam, I’m quittin’ this job.”

You grinned, taking his hand as you tugged him toward the bed. “I’ll talk to Scott. Maybe he’ll give you a raise.”

Logan scoffed. “Yeah, I’ll hold my breath.”

The bedroom was dimly lit, moonlight spilling through the partially open curtains. You crawled back onto the bed first, curling up under the comforter as you waited for him. Logan, meanwhile, paused just long enough to strip off his shirt, leaving him in just his sweats before he settled in beside you. The bed dipped under his weight as he pulled you close, his arm sliding under your head to tuck you against his chest.

You melted into him easily, your cheek pressed to his bare skin as you sighed contentedly. “See? Isn’t this better than failing kids for Napoleon?”

“I wasn’t failin’ him,” Logan murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Gave him a mercy D.”

You couldn’t help but giggle quietly, and Logan felt the sound reverberate against him. “Mercy D,” you repeated. “You’re such a softie.”

“Watch it,” he warned, but there was no heat in it. His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns along your back through the flannel, and for a while, the room settled into silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of blankets and the steady rhythm of your breathing.

You broke the quiet first, your voice soft and muffled against his chest. “Why do you still do it?”

Logan blinked, looking down at you. “Do what?”

“Teach history.” You tilted your head slightly, “you don’t seem to like it much.”

He exhaled slowly, his hand stilling on your back. “Someone’s gotta do it. Better me than some idiot who doesn’t know the difference between Normandy and Napoleon.”

You smiled faintly at that. “Fair point.”

Logan’s voice softened as he continued. “Most of these kids—hell, they don’t know half of what happened before they were born. I figure if they’re gonna learn somethin’ about the past, it might as well be from someone who’s lived a lot of it.”

You looked up at him then, your gaze searching his face in the dim light. Logan didn’t look away, but there was something guarded in his expression, like he wasn’t sure why he’d admitted that much.

“You’re a good teacher,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his chest.

Logan snorted. “Yeah. Tell that to the kid who thinks Napoleon was stormin’ the beaches at Normandy.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest before settling back down. “Well, I think you’re great.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but his arm tightened slightly around you, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to your hair. “Get some sleep, darlin’,” he murmured. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You smiled against his skin, letting his warmth lull you back to sleep. Logan stayed awake a little longer, though, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as his fingers traced absent patterns against your back again. He didn’t say it out loud, but moments like this—the quiet, the warmth of you beside him—were the reason he stuck around at all.

For someone who’d lived lifetimes, this was the only one that mattered.

---

As you were walking from your classroom to your office, Jean called out your name telepathically, “someone’s at the front door for you.”

You frowned and made your way over to where a man in casual clothing stood outside. “Hello?” You asked, Jean holding the door only halfway open.

“Are you Y/N Howlett?”

“Yes.” You responded, moving slightly closer to Jean for comfort.

The man held out an envelope, “you’ve been served.”

You stared at him, stomach dropping at the words. Slowly, you reached out and took the envelope, the weight of it far heavier than just paper. Your fingers barely curled around it before the man turned and walked away without another word, leaving you and Jean standing in the doorway.

Jean looked at you, her brows furrowed in concern. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice carefully even.

You didn’t respond immediately, your eyes still on the envelope as if opening it might explode your entire life apart. "I..." You glanced at Jean, trying to ground yourself in her steady presence. "I don’t know."

“Come inside.” She placed a hand on your back and guided you gently through the door.

Once inside, she closed it behind you and walked you to one of the couches in the main hall. Her calm, methodical movements gave you enough time to focus. "Do you want me to stay while you open it?"

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yeah. Please."

You tore open the envelope, unfolding the crisp papers inside. The legal jargon was an immediate headache, but the gist hit you quickly enough.

Your parents—parents you’d met just once at Stanford, a month ago—were contesting the will of your grandfather. You skimmed the words, anger brewing beneath the shock. The lawsuit wasn’t about you. It was about the inheritance your grandfather had left to you. Money you hadn’t touched—didn’t want to touch. Money your mother and father were determined to get their hands on.

“What is it?” she asked gently, leaning over a bit.

You sighed, lowering the papers slightly. “They’re suing me for the money my grandfather left. The same money they showed up to tell me about last time.” You shook your head, blinking furiously to keep your frustration and embarrassment in check. “I told them I didn’t want it. I never even filed anything to claim it.”

Jean frowned, her gaze hardening in sympathy as she processed what you said. “That’s awful, Y/N. I mean… that’s your family.”

“Not really.” You laughed bitterly, though the sound lacked humor.

Jean put her hand on your knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, we’ll figure this out. Do you want to talk to someone about this? Scott can—"

"Logan," you cut in, almost reflexively.

Jean paused but nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay. Do you want me to get him, or—?”

"I’ll go." You stood abruptly, still clutching the papers. “Thanks, Jean. For… sticking with me through that.”

“Always.” Jean watched you head out before leaning back on the couch with a worried sigh.

---

Logan was in the garage, predictably half under his motorcycle. He was wiping his hands with an oil-streaked rag when he heard you approach. As he sat up, he took one look at your face and tossed the rag aside.

“What happened?” he asked immediately, his voice rough but threaded with concern.

You held up the papers wordlessly, struggling to hold his sharp gaze. He took them from your hands, skimming through quickly, his brow furrowing as he absorbed the contents.

“Christ,” he muttered after a long moment, his fist tightening slightly around the edges of the papers. “They’re suin’ you? For money that’s yours?”

“Money I didn’t even want,” you added, sitting heavily on the bench by the wall. Your hands tangled together in your lap, a nervous habit you couldn’t quite break.

He looked at you, anger darkening his expression, but it wasn’t directed at you. It never was. “They think you’re some kid they can push around,” he growled, folding the papers and setting them down before crouching in front of you. His large hands found yours, prying them apart gently. “But you’re not. You’re a hell of a lot stronger than they give you credit for, sweetheart.”

Your chest tightened at the way he spoke to you, so firm yet so gentle all at once. “I don’t want to deal with this,” you admitted, your voice small. “I don’t want the money, Logan. I never did.”

“You won’t have to.” His grip on your hands firmed, grounding you. “We’ll fight this. They ain’t takin’ a damn thing from you.”

You nodded slowly, letting his words soothe you, though doubt still nagged at the edges of your thoughts. “What if they win?”

Logan’s jaw flexed, his sharp features hardening with resolve. “They won’t.”

“Logan, I—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, his voice low but insistent. He pulled you forward slightly so that your knees brushed his shoulders. “Trust me, Y/N. This’ll get sorted. I ain’t lettin’ them screw you over, okay?”

You searched his eyes for any trace of uncertainty but found none. Logan, as always, was unwavering.

“Okay,” you said softly, exhaling as you leaned your forehead against his.

The moment stretched quietly before he broke it, pulling back just far enough to press a kiss to your temple. “C’mon. Let’s get this over to Chuck. He’ll know what to do.”

You hesitated, though his calm tone bolstered you. "You don’t think it’s… embarrassing?"

Logan leaned back on his heels slightly, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Embarrassing? Dealin’ with greedy parents? Not even close.” His smirk softened into something fonder. “You ain’t gotta hide stuff like this from me, darlin’. Or from the team. We’ve all got somethin’ messy in our pasts. Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

His reassurance worked its way past your anxiety, easing the knot in your stomach a bit more. "Okay," you whispered again, squeezing his hands. “Let’s talk to Charles.”

Logan stood and pulled you with him, his arm immediately going around your shoulders as he guided you inside. Whatever fight lay ahead, you knew you weren’t facing it alone.

---

Logan leaned against the dresser, shaking his head. “No.”

You gave a mock pout, holding up the pastel blue sweater that matched your sundress. “C’mon, Logan. It’s just for today.”

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the dresser with a look of pure defiance. “No way. Not wearin’ that.”

“It’s Easter,” you reasoned, trying not to laugh at the sheer stubbornness etched onto his face. “The kids are excited, and it’s a pastel color. You’ll look festive. Besides,” you added with a teasing tilt of your head, “it matches my dress.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Festive? Darlin’, I ain’t the ‘festive’ type.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” came Jean’s voice from the doorway. She leaned against the frame with a smirk, her arms crossed. “I think you’d look great in it, Logan. Adds some softness to your usual gruffness.”

Logan shot her a glare that only made her smirk widen. “Nobody asked you, Jeannie.”

You hid your smile behind the sweater, trying to keep the peace. “Jean, don’t make it worse,” you murmured, though your tone was light.

“I’m just saying,” Jean replied with a playful shrug before disappearing down the hallway, leaving you alone with Logan again.

“See? Even Jean agrees,” you said, holding the sweater out to him again. “Come on, Logan. Just for a little while?”

He huffed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re not gonna let this go, are ya?”

You shook your head, your smile growing. “Nope.”

Logan stared at you for a long moment, his expression softening despite his obvious resistance. It wasn’t the sweater he was giving in to—it was you. With a grumble, he snatched it out of your hands. “Fine. But if anyone takes a picture, I’m burnin’ it.”

You bit back a laugh as he pulled the sweater on over his usual white undershirt. The pastel blue clashed hilariously with his rugged demeanor, but you had to admit, it looked... sweet on him. The way it matched your dress only made it better.

“There,” Logan said, tugging at the hem like it might suffocate him. “Happy?”

“Very,” you said with a warm smile, stepping closer to adjust the sweater’s collar. “You look good.”

He grumbled something under his breath but didn’t stop you. Instead, his hands found your waist, pulling you close enough that you had to crane your neck to look up at him. “You owe me for this,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his tone.

“Oh, do I?” you teased, resting your hands on his chest. “What do I owe you?”

Logan leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’ll find out later,” he said, his voice low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Your cheeks flushed, but you managed to keep your composure. “Well, let’s see if you make it through the egg hunt first.”

He groaned, pulling back enough to look at you. “Wait. Do I gotta do that, too?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, laughing when his head fell back in exaggerated defeat. “The kids will love it. And you look adorable.”

Logan shot you a flat look. “Adorable?”

You grinned, standing on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Yup. Now come on, let’s go before Rogue eats all the candy.”

Logan shook his head, muttering something about how he’d never live this down, but the small smile tugging at his lips told you he didn’t really mind. Not as long as it was for you.

---

You and Logan sat across from the lawyer Charles had recommended. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of papers as the lawyer flipped through the documents. Logan leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, a scowl set deep on his face. You sat with your hands folded tightly in your lap, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose as you watched the lawyer with a mixture of apprehension and exhaustion.

“Well,” the lawyer finally said, setting the papers down on the desk in front of him. He adjusted his own glasses, his expression professional but sympathetic. “The good news is that the will is clear. Your grandfather left the inheritance to you and only you. Your parents’ claim has very little legal ground.”

Your shoulders sagged slightly, but the tension in your chest didn’t fully ease. “But they can still drag this out, can’t they?” you asked quietly. “Even if the claim isn’t strong?”

The lawyer nodded. “Yes, they can file motions, request hearings, and essentially make this as difficult as possible for you. It’s not uncommon in cases like this.”

Logan growled low in his throat, his impatience bubbling to the surface. “So what do we do to shut this down for good?”

The lawyer glanced at him, unfazed by Logan’s tone. “There are a few options. You can contest the claim in court, which could take time but would likely result in a ruling in your favor. Or,” he paused, looking at you, “you can choose to forfeit the inheritance entirely. That would require specific legal filings, but it would end the dispute.”

You blinked, the weight of the decision settling heavily on your shoulders. “I don’t want the money,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I never wanted it. I didn’t even know about it until my parents showed up at Stanford.”

Logan’s hand slid over yours, grounding you. “You don’t have to decide now,” he said, his voice softer than before.

The lawyer cleared his throat, his expression cautious. “There is one other matter to consider. If you choose to forfeit the inheritance, it wouldn’t simply revert to your parents. According to the terms of the will, the funds would be held in trust for any future heirs—your children, specifically.”

Your head snapped up, and you stared at the lawyer in disbelief. “Future children?”

He nodded. “Yes. It’s an unusual clause, but your grandfather was quite specific. If you don’t claim the inheritance, it remains part of the family estate and will be managed until it can be passed down to your descendants.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, and you glanced at him, your cheeks warming at the faint surprise in his expression. You hadn’t explicitly talked about children with him yet, though the thought had crossed your mind more than once.

“That’s… a lot to process,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t even know he thought about me that way. We weren’t close at the… end.”

The lawyer offered a small, understanding smile. “It’s not uncommon for people to make decisions like this in their wills, even if they weren’t directly involved in someone’s life. He may have wanted to ensure you were cared for in some way.”

You nodded slowly, your thoughts swirling. Logan leaned forward, his gruff voice breaking the silence. “Let’s say she forfeits. What’s to stop her parents from tryin’ to get their hands on the money anyway?”

“There are legal safeguards in place,” the lawyer replied. “The trust would be managed independently, and your parents wouldn’t have access to it. It’s airtight.”

Logan grunted, seemingly satisfied with that answer, but his focus shifted back to you. “What do you wanna do, sweetheart?”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to where his hand still covered yours. “I don’t want to go to court,” you said softly. “I don’t want the money, and I don’t want to fight with them. If it can go to… someone else, to the future, then maybe that’s the right thing to do.”

Logan’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, his voice steady. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

The lawyer nodded. “I’ll start drafting the necessary documents. It’ll take a little time, but once it’s filed, your parents won’t have a legal leg to stand on.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the meeting wrapped up and the lawyer left the room, Logan turned to you, his expression softening. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your chest still felt heavy. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot.”

He pulled you into his arms without hesitation, holding you close against his chest. “You did good, darlin’,” he murmured against your hair. “Don’t let this mess get to you.”

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering tension. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“For what?” he asked, pulling back just enough to look down at you.

“For being here,” you said, your gaze meeting his. “For always being here.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, crooked smile. “Where else would I be?”

You laughed softly, the sound shaky but genuine, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead before leading you out of the room.

As the two of you walked into the kitchen, Logan pulled out a bottle of mango juice from the fridge and poured you a glass. His movements were calm and deliberate, a quiet reassurance that everything was going to be okay. He set the glass down in front of you, leaning against the counter as you took a sip.

"You doin' alright now, sweetheart?" he asked, his gaze steady on you.

You nodded, holding the cool glass in your hands. “I think so. I just hate that it had to come to this.”

Logan reached over, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Ain’t your fault. They made their choice, and you made yours. That’s all that matters.”

You managed a small smile, his support giving you the courage to push forward. But the lawyer’s earlier words lingered in your mind, and after a moment of hesitation, you decided to voice the thought that had been nagging at you.

“Logan,” you said, your voice soft, “did it… bother you? What he said about the inheritance going to future kids?”

Logan arched a brow, folding his arms across his chest as he watched you. “Bother me?” he repeated, his tone questioning.

“Yeah.” You looked down at the mango juice in your hands. “We’ve never really talked about that, and I just—”

His hand was under your chin before you could finish, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “Does it bother you?” he asked, his tone gentle but intent.

You bit your lip, feeling your cheeks warm. “I don’t think so,” you admitted. “I mean, I’ve thought about it before, but I didn’t want to push. I wasn’t sure if that was something you…” You trailed off, unsure how to phrase it.

Logan’s lips curved into a small smirk, his gaze softening in a way that was meant just for you. “Darlin’, I’ve thought about it plenty. Didn’t bring it up ‘cause I didn’t know if you were ready for that kinda talk.”

A soft laugh escaped you, nervous but sweet. “Guess we’re both good at overthinking things.”

Logan’s hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer until your hips bumped against the counter. “I’m not the kind to plan much of anything,” he said, his voice dropping to that rough, affectionate tone that always made your heart flutter. “But you… you make me wanna think about things like that.”

Your chest tightened with a mixture of nervousness and joy as you briefly rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. Logan’s other hand brushed against your cheek, his thumb sliding lightly across your skin, grounding you in a way only he could.

“Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice low and filled with warmth, “you don’t gotta look so nervous. We’re on the same page.”

You let out a soft, shaky laugh. “I know. It’s just... I didn’t think this conversation would come up like this.”

“Didn’t exactly expect it over lawyer talk,” Logan admitted with a small smirk. His hand cupped your cheek, pulling you just a bit closer. “But you think too much sometimes. There’s no rush, no pressure—none of that. But if you’re askin’ if I see it... yeah. I see it, sweetheart.”

Your gaze flicked up to his, caught in the sincerity of his words and the steady way he was looking at you. His eyes, weathered from lifetimes of heartbreak and battle, were now soft and filled with something you could only describe as hope.

You smiled, this time more genuine, a warmth spreading through you. “Me too,” you murmured.

His lips quirked into that crooked grin you’d come to love, and his hand slid to the back of your neck, tugging you forward until your lips met. The kiss was slow and unhurried, a promise sealed in silence. When he pulled back, he kept you close, his forehead pressed against yours.

“No better time to start than now,” he rumbled, the faintest hint of a playful edge slipping into his tone.

Your breath caught, your cheeks instantly flushing. “Logan,” you whispered, voice laced with equal parts shock and anticipation.

He chuckled, that deep, throaty sound sending shivers down your spine. In a swift, effortless move, he lifted you off the ground, one arm supporting your back while the other braced under your knees. You gasped, your hands instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“Logan!” you squeaked, your heart racing as he carried you like you weighed nothing.

“What?” he teased, his smirk widening as he began walking out of the kitchen. “Thought we were on the same page.”

You buried your face against his neck, laughing softly. “We are,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his skin. “You just caught me off guard.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

As the two of you reached the bedroom, the door creaked as Logan kicked it open, a certain ease in his movements that you envied sometimes. He set you down gently on the bed, leaning over you with a wolfish grin that made your heart do a somersault.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice suddenly softer again, no teasing this time. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing the edge of your glasses like it was instinctive for him to touch you this way.

The love in his voice and the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world—stole whatever doubt you might have had. You nodded, your hand curling around his wrist to keep his touch against your skin.

“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling. “I’m sure.”

Logan kissed you again, deeper this time, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go. And for that moment, nothing else in the world mattered.

this is still 2005! next chapter is also going to be 2005 and then after every chapter will be spanning 1 year!

(although i am now realizing that my timeline is a bit off but just roll with it)

[a11eya]

TITLE: lights will guide you home

CHAPTER: 8

PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

SUMMARY: Soul-lights aren’t as common in this day and age as they were in the past, before quirks, but they’re common enough that people do still find their soulmates.

At thirteen, you meet Bakugou Katsuki, and he lights up for you in orange and gold. You tell him he's your soulmate. He sneers and tells you that you aren't his. He makes your adolescence miserable until you part ways.

You meet again as adults, late at night, in a grocery store, over a pile of bok choy. He apologizes for how he treated you when you were children.

(In which you have a choice—to reject Bakugou's apology, reject him, or to let him show you the man he's become, to learn with him what it means to love and forgive.)

TAGS: soulmate au, trope inversion/subversion, slow burn, getting together, falling in love, fluff, aged up characters, pro-hero characters, eventual smut, mild bullying

NAVIGATION: Series Masterlist

Ikeda tells you that two of the pictures—only two!—you took of Bakugou are viable and that one of the videos is passable. It’s a little harsh, in your opinion, especially considering who your subject was. 

She also asks you for the name of the organization you used to foster the kittens. You tell her the organization name, and, a little sheepishly, that the adoption and foster program’s called Save the Meow Meows. It makes her laugh. 

“Next time, try to get Dynamight to smile, okay?” she says after her laughter dissolves into a grin, audible even over the phone. “He looks like he’s being held hostage in 90% of these.”

“I know. I tried, but you know how he is.” It takes a half-second for the entirety of her words to process. You blink. “Wait, next time?”

“Well, yeah!” she says, sounding amused. “This first post we just put up on Dynamight’s socials is already doing well, and your pictures with him at the pet store are in the rearview mirror. Who knew that people would like them so much? No accounting for taste, I suppose.” 

Well. You knew, the moment you saw Bakugou pick up Mikan. There’s one photo in particular that didn't make it to Dynamight’s social media because Mikan’s mid-motion in it, but something about Bakugou’s expression… You’ll never tell him, but the two of them together make such a pretty picture that you favorited it on your phone. 

You try to pay attention as Ikeda continues, “A couple more posts should suffice, so we need more photos with him in different clothes, maybe in a different spot in your apartment, individual shots with each kitten… and definitely better expressions. Only makes sense, right?”

“Right…”

“You can go ahead and let him know about the additional shoots; you did a great job of coordinating things between you. And good job wrangling him so far! Keep up the good work! ”

“Thanks,” you say, after a pause, to the dial tone. You wonder if Bakugou knows how much Ikeda dislikes him. 

Grimacing, you type out a message and send Bakugou the bad news. 

You: Hey. Just finished talking to Ikeda. She says we need to take more pictures 🙏

Not a minute passes before your phone begins vibrating in your hand. You eye it like it’s a snake and answer hesitantly. 

“…Hello?”

“What’dya mean, more pictures?” Bakugou snaps. 

“Literally, there are no other meanings for that statement.”

“Call her back and tell her to fuck off.”

“Bakugou,” you sigh in exasperation. “I’m not gonna tell her to fuck off. Also, she’s your PR person. If you have complaints, shouldn’t you tell her directly?”

“The fifty pictures you took weren’t enough?” he demands.

“She says we need to take pictures of you wearing different clothes, in different spots in my apartment, so it’s clear they happened on different days. She also says you need solos with each of the kittens. And that you need to smile.” 

Quietly, you mutter away from the receiver, “Like I told you to.”

Bakugou must have the ears of a bat because his tone lowers, dangerous. “What’d you say, brat? Come and say that to my face.”

“Make me,” you say immediately, then close your eyes, feeling embarrassed. He really does bring out an unfortunately childish side of you. 

The line goes silent.

You wait, wondering if you pissed him off. 

“Text me when you’re free this week,” he says abruptly. “I’ll come by for the damn pictures.”

He hangs up before you can reply. 

Bakugou: I’m outside. 

Standing from your couch, you walk over to your front door and pull it open.

“Hey,” you tell him, but you stop in confusion when you notice he has a duffle bag in one hand and a reusable bag, the kind you’d put groceries in, in the other. His expression is pinched when your eyes meet.

“Here,” Bakugou says, and shoves the reusable bag at you. You automatically grab at the handles and make a sound when he lets go; it’s heavy. 

“Gotta reschedule the dumb photos. I was called in for work,” he says. 

Bakugou steps back, clearly moving to leave, and you grab his wrist.  

“Hold on,” you say. You let your hand fall from him and raise the reusable bag. “What is this?”

“Nutrients instead of the garbage you usually have. Be grateful,” he tells you, baring his teeth in a mean smile. You make a face at him, instinctively, and the mean fades from his smile, shifting to an amused twist of his lips. He looks at you as if he’s going to say something more. He doesn’t. 

Bakugou turns and makes his way down the hallway. 

You stare at his back, then duck your head to look at the contents of the bag. 

There are several bentos in there, stacked neatly, easily a week’s worth of lunches. The ones at the top have sticky notes on them, labeled with a number and what looks like a list of ingredients. 

When it finally clicks what you’re holding, your eyes widen. 

You shove your feet into some slides, grabbing another shoe to hold your door open, and chase Bakugou down the hallway, lugging the bag with you.

“Bakugou, wait,” you call, catching up to him where he’s waiting at the elevator, duffle bag on the ground. 

He turns to look at you, eyes narrowed. You come to an abrupt halt in front of him and try to give him the bag back. 

Bakugou crosses his arms, a refusal. “The fuck are you doing?”

“I can’t accept this,” you say. “It’s so much food! And was probably a lot of work to make!”

“S’why you should shut up and keep it,” he growls. “Go back.”

You scrabble about for a more convincing argument. “You should keep it. You’re going to work, right? You need lunch!”

“Already got lunch. This shit’s just because I made extra meal prepping this week,” Bakugou says.

Your mouth opens, and you furrow your brow, looking down at the bag. Uncertain, now.

“If you don’t want it, toss it,” he tells you, rolling his eyes.

“I can’t do that,” you gasp, just as the elevator arrives and opens. 

One of your neighbors, coming back from walking her dog, blinks at the both of you from inside the elevator. 

You quickly step closer to where Bakugou’s standing so she can pass. Bakugou picks up his duffle bag so it isn’t in the way, and you exchange greeting smiles with your neighbor as she slips by. Her big dog stops to sniff at the bag you’re holding, no doubt detecting the food, but your neighbor tugs at the leash and away.

Feeling self-conscious now that you have an audience, even if she is getting further down the hall, you turn back to Bakugou. He’s looking at you already, an exasperated expression on his face.

“Stop being stubborn,” he says, mouth a downward slash. “Gotta go. Eat that shit or don’t. I don’t care.”

He steps into the elevator and jabs the button for the ground floor. He’s gone before you can come up with a response.

You stack the bentos in your fridge, taking care not to jostle them more than you had during your jog down the hallway. As you place the last one inside, you trace the edge of its lid thoughtfully.  

You weren’t sure, at first, why these bentos bothered you, why your first reaction was to try to give them back. But the longer you sit on it, the more clarity you have. 

You feel a little guilty, that Bakugou keeps doing things for you, giving you things. The feeling has been building, especially over the past couple weeks since you’ve been messaging him, talking to him. You talk to him nearly every day. You’ve learned he prefers phone calls to texts—not surprising, considering how brief his messages usually are. He’s become part of your routine, and you find yourself feeling like something’s missing when a day passes without a snarky message from him or a phone call where you update him on the kittens, despite his claims of disinterest. 

You don’t want him to think that you only want him around because he gives you things and does stuff for you. You hope nothing about you gives that impression. 

You’re not sure how to tell him this. It makes your stomach swoop, just thinking about bringing it up. Because you know you’ll have to tell him what you just realized: that you like him for who he is. That you like him in your life. That he doesn’t have to earn your time or attention or—or forgiveness with things or by doing things. 

At work the next day, you sit and eat in the break room for the first time in several weeks, nearly crying over your first bite of a bento. It’s so good.

You figured out the numbers on the sticky notes indicate the order in which you should eat the bentos. Even though the ingredients are listed on the notes, you’d been tempted to crack open each bento to see what you’ll be eating later in the week. But so far, you’ve been able to control yourself. It’s kind of nice. Like a little surprise to look forward to each day. 

You finger today’s sticky note, taking in the words crossing it. For some reason, you’d assumed Bakugou would have messy, wild handwriting. But the kanji are precise, neat. You wonder what he’s doing right now.

The break room door opens, and you look up to see a colleague from a different department.

“Hey!” he greets you, crossing the room to fill his water bottle at the fill station. He turns to face you as he waits, and you panic internally, struggling to remember his name. Sato? Suzuki? 

“Surprised to see you in here,” he remarks. “Usually you eat in your office.”

“Yeah!” you say. You had no idea he took so much notice of where you ate. When were you first introduced? A couple months back? You feel worse about not remembering his name. 

You give him a smile, hoping the guilt isn’t on your face. “Just felt like a change of pace today.”

“That bento looks good! Do you like to cook?” he asks.

“Oh! No, a friend made it for me.” Your smile shifts into something more genuine. “He said I’ve been eating garbage, so. His attempt at trying to make sure I don’t die prematurely, I guess.”

“Oh, gotcha,” Sato or Suzuki or something else entirely says, tone shifting, and he picks up his now-full water bottle and twists the cap back on. 

“Well, enjoy your lunch!” he says, waving goodbye as he leaves the break room. 

You stare at the closing door for a brief moment before shaking your head. You need to find out that guy’s name before you see him again. He totally clocked you for not recognizing him, because what was that weird look on his face as he left? You decide to ask your team—discreetly!—what his name is after your lunch break.

When you’re finished eating, you snap a picture of the empty bento and send it to Bakugou.

You: Thank you for the food! 🙏

You: You know, if you ever change your mind about the hero thing, I think you’d get a job as a chef, easy

After a moment, you decide to send another message. You want to bring up the thoughts you’d had the other day, about how you don’t want him to feel compelled to keep doing things for you, but you feel like it’s a conversation better had in-person. Or on the phone, at least. 

It takes you several minutes of deleting and drafting before you settle on something inadequate. 

You: Sorry I was so weird about it yesterday 

Standing abruptly, too chicken to wait to see if he replies, you clean up your area and get back to work. 

It’s at the end of the work day, on the train, when you check your messages again. A text from Bakugou is waiting for you in your inbox, and you’re definitely not nervous when you tap on it to read it.

Bakugou: Better be sorry. Next time, don’t be a brat about it

You exhale, huffing a laugh, relieved. You type out a response.

You: Yes, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight sir 

He doesn’t reply. One thing about Bakugou is that he leaves his read receipts on—intentionally, you suspect, because it’s just like him to make sure you know he’s ignoring you, even through texts. It makes you grin.

The week passes, and you find yourself staring at a pile of empty bento boxes, hands on your hips.

You: Hey, when can I return the bento boxes? Washed them and everything!!

Bakugou: I’d fuckin’ hope so 

You: 😒

You: Should I drop them off at your agency? 

Bakugou: No, bring ‘em to my place

He sends you an address.

A part of you is a little relieved he’d suggested you not bring them to his agency. Thinking about it, going there to drop off a bag of empty bento boxes feels a little too… revealing. That people might see that you have the kind of relationship where he makes you lunch. You don’t want to cause trouble, especially since the pet store fiasco is just starting to fade from people’s memories. 

You: 👍

“Hi.” You feel a little out of place, standing in the hallway outside Bakugou’s apartment. You hold up the bag of bento boxes. “I brought the goods.”

Mentally, you’re kicking yourself. You’re always saying such dumb shit in front of him. 

Bakugou’s gives you a deadpan look, an I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that look. 

“Well don’t just stand there,” he says, and moves back to give you some room.

You step past the threshold, and he closes the door behind you. He grabs the bag from you and heads deeper into his apartment. Hurriedly, you toe off your shoes and follow him.

He’s gone into his kitchen, you realize, and he has a cabinet open, where he’s placing the bento boxes inside, one by one. He meets your gaze as he’s putting one away, and while maintaining eye contact with you, he opens one of them and makes a show of inspecting it for cleanliness.

“Very funny,” you say dryly. 

Bakugou barks out a laugh and you smile, despite yourself.

As he continues to put away the boxes, you take a moment to glance around his kitchen while he’s busy.

It’s big. It has some fancy-looking appliances you wouldn’t typically find in a home kitchen. The stove looks top-of-the-line, and you see an impressive-looking knife set displayed on the counter. There’s even a stand mixer in one corner. You wonder if Bakugou bakes. 

“Y’want water, tea?” he asks, closing the cabinet and turning to you.

“Oh, water’s fine, thanks,” you say. You’re chagrined; even Bakugou’s a better host than you are.

You lean your side against one of the counters, watching as he grabs a pair of glasses and fills them up. 

He’s the most dressed down you’ve ever seen him, in a faded shirt and worn pants that he easily could’ve slept in. His hair is nearly flat, falling in relaxed strands, softening him. All his edges are blunted, here, in his apartment.

You murmur a thank you as he gives you your water, and you subtly study his face as he drains his glass. He leans a hip against the counter. 

He looks a little tired, slight bags under his eyes. The way he’s holding himself is relaxed, but his shoulders slant, droop in a way you haven’t seen before. When he leans over to place his cup in the sink, his shirt lifts a little, exposing a glimpse of skin and the lip of his boxers rising above the waistband of his pants. His lights are gentle swirls around him, bathing him in a soft glow. 

He’s handsome, it dawns on you. The thought flusters you, and heat begins to rise to your cheeks. 

What the hell? You’ve seen him in casual clothes; you’ve seen him in his hero suit. Objectively, people are more attractive when put together, right? Presentable. There’s nothing about him, now, that you should find attractive. He’s just some guy, standing in his kitchen.

But Bakugou in his off mode, at home, does something to you. It’s like wires rearrange in your head, and you can’t stop looking at him. 

“Hey,” you say—anything to leave this train of thought behind, because nope. “Thanks again for the food. This week was the best I’ve eaten, like ever.”

“You’re damn right it was,” he says, and you roll your eyes, smiling. 

“Alright, alright, Mr. Ego. I did want to talk about something else, too, while I’m here. If you have a minute.” By the time you’re finished talking, a serious note you’re unable to help has crept into your voice. 

An expression you’re unable to decipher flickers across his face. Bakugou crosses his arms. “Spit it out.”

You put your glass down on the counter, fiddling with it. Stalling, you realize. 

“I want you to know… you don’t have to do all this for me, okay?” you say, glancing up at him. 

His eyes narrow. 

You continue, hurriedly, to clarify. “I mean, like buying me the couch protectors, or making me lunches. I appreciate it all, I do.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Bakugou says, a little growl on the end of his sentence. 

“I just don’t want you thinking you need to do these things for me,” you say, voice faltering, quieting. “Even if you don’t cook me another meal, or buy me a single thing, ever, that’s fine with me.” 

Please understand, you will to him, watching him. Your thoughts feel clumsy, your words clumsier, like it’s a monumental effort just to string two sentences together. You can’t find the words to tell him what you mean: that you think he’s funny when he quips at you and that you know he’s observant, thoughtful. That you like talking to him, spending time with him. It’s enough.

Maybe you have found the words, but you can’t say them aloud just yet. Not yet.

“I know I don’t need to do shit. I only do shit I wanna do,” Bakugou says gruffly.

You open your mouth to argue, to try again to make sure he understands you, but he interrupts, puts a hand on your head. He’s a little rough, but his hand is warm. Reassuring. There’s a softness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. You could fall into them, like this. 

“You think too much,” he tells you, but peering into his face—you think he’s heard you, loud and clear. 

You do think too much, you acknowledge on the train ride home. 

You’d left his apartment soon after your conversation; he’d needed to get ready for work. But your thoughts still buzz with him. 

You think about how the shape of your life has changed with him in it, within just a couple weeks. You think about the fact that he’s your soulmate but you’re not his, how this is something that can’t be changed, no matter how well you get to know Bakugou and how well he gets to know you. It’s been a long time since this—that you can see his lights but he can’t see yours—bothered you. You thought you’d accepted it, moved on from it. 

It really, really bothers you.

[jiminrings]

fail-safe (2)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you've heard nothing about it, so you're thankful.

alternatively, yoongi reminds you of home in more ways than one.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, brother's best friend AND single dad au, eventual fluff, a lot of yearning but For What, they reunite but at what cost rlly, jealousy, self-loathing, unrequited love (initial), deja vu but in the worst possible form, eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: i am So sorry for this .

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even reading ur thoughts in the tags give me life :) | series masterlist

FIVE YEARS LATER

The trip back home wasn’t as rough as Yoongi expected it to be.

Somehow, there’s a huge difference between sitting in economy seats versus first-class seats, even if they’re situated on the same aircraft. When he left, Yoongi was irritable (amongst other things) to keep bumping elbows with everyone else; now that he’s back, he almost misses the ruckus in the cabin that’s far too cramped for everyone who could afford it.

Yoongi used to hate people like himself — atleast the version that he is now. He hated bastards sitting upfront in seats that reclined all the way back and ate off plates instead of noisy, flimsy plastic containers. Back then, deep down to his very core, he wanted that lifestyle for himself. To become bigger and better than he could ever imagine for the life ahead of him was always the goal.

Now that he’s at the peak, maybe even being the peak himself, he feels weirdly homesick.

“You need to bundle up all the way, Haneul. They’re gonna scold me if you’re not covered from head to toe,” Yoongi playfully chides his son, the insecurity and nervousness underneath his tone flying right over his head. It’s not even that cold, but still, a huge part of Yoongi worries.

He worries everyday if he’s a good dad to his four-year old. He worries if he’s good enough to be a solo parent because after all, he’s the one who has main custody of Haneul anyway. He worries and worries, but there’s nothing quite like the trepidation he feels being back home with everyone who has ever known him prior to all this success, suddenly seeing him come home.

It should be the opposite way around, that’s what everyone says to him. Yoongi had been queasy the whole flight back home despite the flight being one of the smoothest trips he’s ever been on in his life. He’s nervous to be back where he had been born and raised and he doesn’t know what’s that supposed to mean, except for the fact that he has an inkling of what the weight in his chest pertains to.

He’s back because it’s your mother’s 60th birthday. He’s back because her and Namjoon had asked him to, and he obliged without even thinking about it. Yoongi had offered numerous times to throw a party for the woman who had practically raised him alongside his closest friend, and even if Namjoon had backed him up on the grand idea for such a large milestone, she said no. All she wanted was for everyone to be back home, and Yoongi couldn’t say no.

Neither could you.

Yoongi is not the most modest person alive, but he is at his humblest when he drives the long way home just to delay the inevitable. He’s happy to the point he could be sick. He can’t tell if it’s the joy or the anxiety in his chest that makes it tighten, almost unbearably so, that he makes Haneul reach up to his forehead to check if he has a fever.

Yoongi’s home.

Not Los Angeles home, and not New York home. Not his home with a closet that’s the size of his childhood house’s living room, and not his space with the big windows and concierge downstairs.

Yoongi’s home — where the streets are narrow and the stairs are creaky; where this time, it’s all of him and none of you.

.

.

.

Enduring is different than working.

You’ve realized that the two concepts are drastically different as soon as Yoongi left, leaving you to survive the remaining years of your degree before you had to face the reality that you had to work to the bone for the rest of your life if you wanted a shot at living an average, food-stocked-in-the-fridge kind of life.

You didn’t know anyone who was connected to someone of importance one way or another, your family had zero ties, and you graduated from a university that raised more eyebrows in confusion than it tilted heads in awe. Your degree does havehigh promises as far as everyone in your town was concerned — it does and it should be, if only you were born and raised in different circumstances.

There’s not one acclaimed and high-profit company that would ever accept the likes of you. You worked hard and even if there were no exchange student agreements and Latin honors to show for it, you really did. You gave your best to graduate with a degree you never really liked and was only forced upon you, all for the promise of a future. It didn’t matter if it was extremely good or bad — everyone else just said you had to have one.

Your misfortune is what it is. It’s empty and haunting and the two weeks you had spent in the city right after graduating is truly something you never want to relive.

In hindsight, gambling the rest of your pocket money on a bus fare in your last day of job-hunting in the city at the time was a stupid decision. It was impulsive and irresponsible and everything your family scolded you for, what Yoongi hated you for, but it ended up being the single best gamble you’ve ever made, even above entry-level lottery tickets.

The same circumstances that held you back from where you’re supposed to head ended up propelling you to somewhere far, far different. Your degree became completely irrelevant, and the fact that you had nobody of significance in the city– no person to pass malice and gossip onto— made you a manager.

It had been a gamble to go work for an unknown entertainment company, much more a sinking one. It was an insult to have busted your ass back in your hometown, studying and working at the same time, only to work professionally in the city for a field that you didn’t even study about.

Your fate is what it is. You’ve endured and worked hard enough to the point that you had finally lucked out. Being the manager of someone who had later turned out to become the biggest actor in the industry, even in Hollywood, became your biggest break up to date.

Your way back home feels like an embrace you’ve denied yourself for far too long. You’ve mainly stayed in Seoul apart from the several hundred times you had to come with Jungkook for filming outside of the country, yet you could only count on one hand the amount of times you came home without anyone telling you to.

Coming home had become foreign to you as much as leaving it had become familiar.

“I’m near, Joon,” you hum to your phone, taking a quick glance at the cake you’ve strapped to your front seat. “It’s only us, right?”

“Yeah. Just us.”

Maybe it’s your fault for changing what us meant throughout the past five years, but Namjoon’s definition never changed. Maybe it’s your fault for not clarifying what he meant when you’re still kilometers away, when you can still leave, but nonetheless, you were cornered.

Us meant what it used to be when you were a kid in your childhood home — when Yoongi was still in the picture and you didn’t hate him for it.

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that Yoongi was right — nothing valuable was left for him in your hometown anymore. He was as right as you were wrong every time he went on a monologue of how he thinks there’s no problem in him admitting that he’s full of envy. He had been right for being bitter that there’s people who have and get much more than him, more than what they deserve, by not even putting a fourth of the effort that he does.

In the same way that he was right, you were wrong for thinking each time that Yoongi would soon outgrow his ambitions and instead, see things for what they are. You were wrong for thinking Yoongi would stoop down to your page, much less ever think of it.

Yoongi was right for saying that his stomach’s made of steel, and you were wrong for trying to convince him otherwise. He’s always had the appetite for more, the digestion of whatever life throws at him coming easy. Yoongi can choke down the reality of leaving Namjoon, your brother, who’s been buddies with him even before they could talk. He could forgo the only brother figure he’s ever had in his life if it means making something of himself.

He doesn’t get constipated from the reality of no longer having the homemade meals your mother would make that the younger, more innocent, and less ambitious version of him would literally jumps fences for. In fact, Yoongi’s palate craved something more foreign and sophisticated; not familiar, hearty meals served in dinnerware dulled from years of routine.

His stomach doesn’t turn thinking about how the skyline he said he’d never get tired of, wouldn’t appear in his new side of the world. The little, unassuming, and far too comfortable version of him who used to chase sunrises with his bike as a child and chase sunsets with his car as a teenager, doesn’t feel like he’d be poisoned if he were to see the sunlight in a high-rise instead of a run-down pavement.

Yoongi’s right when he said he had a tolerance because he doesn’t even get heartburn when you cry for him to no longer leave. You’re not in the position to beg him to stay (and you probably never will be) because as you’ve come to realize, he would only stay for the big things.

The only thing that would anchor Min Yoongi into place and dissuade him from chasing more is by being the most. One would have to be extremely significant, even bigger than Namjoon’s brotherhood, your mother’s impact, and what your hometown has to offer. You can’t even hold a candle to the aforementioned.

In Yoongi’s grand plan that’s as big as the galaxy, you’re merely a speck of dust that had the luck of hovering around him. You realized it back then when you blew over and fought with him right before his flight; right when Yoongi was clutching his one-way ticket, right when one foot was already out of the door.

“But the future that you want is not easy, Yoongi!” you gritted through your teeth, the grip you had on his suitcase too visceral that it bends under the pressure. Yoongi snatches his luggage from you in a blink, nostrils flaring in annoyance.

“Of course you’d be the first to say that,” he seethed, eyes wild and unforgiving. He drills his finger into his temple, inching towards you with an anger he had never shown before. “You don’t work as hard as I do, Y/N! You always settle. You always go for mediocre. You never put your head into anything because you’re too immature for any of this shit!”

“I’m not immature, you asshole!”

“Yes you are, you dipshit!” Yoongi scoffed, throwing his head back. “You cave and you bend and you let the whole world fuck you over, then you come running to me whining. You don’t have a passion in life, Y/N! You’re begging me to stay in the same predicament that you’re in now, what’s not immature about that?”

“When you leave now and decide to come back one day, Yoongi,” you spat with resentment, the tears that pour down your cheeks no longer out of sadness but instead, out of promise. “Nothing will ever be the same.”

“Good,” Yoongi clipped, turning his back on you for the last time. “Good for me.”

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that when Yoongi left five years ago, he also took the large chunk of your soul that had been shaped over and over again the entire time that he stood by you. He’d gotten his hands on the security and contentment you used to take pride in, weaponizing them against you.

You’re unsure if you have to thank him for that, the uncertainty being on par with the insecurity you had felt when he left you with his truth.

When you visit your mother for her birthday and see Yoongi emerge from your childhood bedroom, hand-in-hand with a toddler that looks like an exact carbon copy of him, you’re unsure of what to do either.

You’re not hysterical in the same way you stood before him when you even considered ripping up his plane ticket, but on the other hand, Yoongi’s inconsolable in the way he flounders before you.

“Y/N,” he says breathless, the lump in his throat even bigger than the tiny fist that grips his hand. “I… I-I didn’t-…” Yoongi tries again, his mouth dry at your appearance. “You came home.”

“I’m only visiting,” you answer, the curt smile on your face that Yoongi recognizes to be the one you’d give to strangers making his blood run cold. “I don’t plan on staying.”

.

.

.

You’re numb if that’s the word for it.

Your chest buzzes emptily the same way your fingers clench around nothing. You look at everywhere and everyone but Yoongi and his son. It’s nauseating to even think that everyone’s eating dinner as if everything’s okay; what’s even more sickening is that somehow, you’re willing to settle for it.

Yoongi is your mom’s cross-stitch project of a teddy bear that she hung up in your room one day when you were in school that you never took off by the time you came home. He’s a dent at the corner of your gate that could’ve only been made by Namjoon when he was practicing his soccer skills. He’s a Snellen chart that nobody really uses, stuck to the side of the refrigerator that you walk past.

Yoongi’s here, there, and everywhere, but you don’t question it. He’s simply there in your orbit and even if he exists, you don’t follow up on him.

You stay quiet at the talks of the sleeping situation because it turns out that Yoongi’s family had long sold their house. You never knew that throughout the several times you came down to visit.

Frankly, you’re relieved to barely know anything about Yoongi these days.

“You and Haneul can take my room,” you half-heartedly offer, not because it’s Yoongi who tugs at your heartstrings and demands your pity, but his child instead. The two, three (?) year-old baby (read: you’re too hesitant to ask what his age is because if it’s anything higher, then that meant Yoongi had moved on earlier than you did) you didn’t even know existed because you’ve completely cut off Yoongi from your life and refused to listen to Namjoon every time he talked about him, will be sleeping in your room; it just happens that he’s with his dad.

Yoongi’s awed at your preposition but he’s even more worried. He can’t tell a single thought that’s going on behind your eyes nor a single hint behind your tone. You’re formal; neutral. You’re detached even when you utter Haneul’s name and gesture them to your bedroom as if he hasn’t spent years and years of his life in your home.

“Where will you sleep?” he furrows his brows, his hand that had been rubbing circles on Haneul’s back faltering.

He’s asking because he doesn’t know anything about you at this point. He can’t tell if it’s the indigestion he has from resisting to talk your ear off at the dining table (like he’s always did when you were young) because you barely even spoke to him, or if it’s the overwhelming feeling of being back home with everything feeling familiar but you — either way, Yoongi thinks he’s gonna be sick.

“I’ll sleep at my mom’s,” you purse your lips, leaving him at that.

Between the yearning, demanding looks you get from Yoongi, the nosy and concerned glances from Namjoon, and even the guilt that you get from keeping all of your emotions from your mom when you used to confide in her religiously when you were younger — you’re drained. The urge to wash off all your anxiety can’t be done in your childhood home’s small bathroom. You can’t with the faulty water heater (you have to keep one finger pressed on the button at all times to keep it running) because you can’t even cry in peace under the either scorching or freezing water.

You can’t evade everything by grabbing a drink from the fridge that runs loudly as if it’s excavating oil from underneath your floors. You can’t curl up on the couch that’s become worn with age because there’s dents of you and Yoongi, the only two people who had sat on it the most every late night for years on end. You can’t romanticize any of the things in your home that have brought you joy all your life at this point in time.

To sleep under the same roof with your mother and brother again after so long feels foreign. It’s a language you can perceive but can’t translate and the frustration that comes with it seeps into your bones. There must be some common ground between the three of you; it should be anything and everything. With Namjoon being a world-renowned football player and you being somewhat accomplished and decorated in your field, you’ve managed to retire your mom early.

The three of you are doing fine. Not one interaction in the past five years has ever felt this tense and unfamiliar, but if you could pick just the odd one out, the very reason why you feel like falling to the floor and crawling your way out of your own home because you feel like you don’t belong to it — it’s Yoongi.

You feel awkward in your own four walls, whereas Yoongi finds your nightlight that you keep tucked in your closet without breaking a sweat.

Namjoon tugs you right when you’re about to call it a day in your mom’s room, his hushed whispers taking you back to when he pleaded for you not to rat them out whenever he and Yoongi crashed at the couch drunk.

“Give them this,” he shoves the can of bug spray into your hands, your immediate reaction making him wrestle with you just to push you closer to your own bedroom.

“No, Joon. You give it.”

“Y/N, no. You give it,” he whines, purposely having given Yoongi extra sheets and blankets earlier without the bug spray so you’d have something to take to him.

“I don’t wanna see Yoongi,” you whisper, trying to pathetically regain your footing even if you know your attempts go futile against an athlete for a brother.

“You think I don’t know that?” he snarks, giving you one last shove with a stern finger. “We’re gonna talk about whatever the hell happened between you and him, but right now, you’re gonna offer him bug spray like the gracious hosts that we are!”

You crash too far to your door that it could be mistaken as a knock, making you hiss because you know you can’t retract it. You actually knock this time, being met with nothing but a quiet Yoongi behind your own door.

Even when he opens it fully, even when it’s your own room — you enter hesitantly.

Yoongi’s already made a home out of your room. He knew where your nightlight was, knew which good extension cord (that didn’t spark every time it shifted) to plug into the wall, and even knew where you kept the magazine that you had to wedge between your windows whenever they didn’t fully close.

“Namjoon told me to give you this,” you put your hand out, looking at everything but Yoongi. You could look at Haneul who’s sprawled in the middle of the bed, but it isn’t any different than looking at his dad himself.

Yoongi, on the other hand, can’t see anything but you. He feels like an intruder who just happened to know the confines of your life almost better than his own, holding bug spray and the remainder of whatever recognition you have left for him.

“Will we ever be alright?” he whispers, not for the sake of keeping Haneul asleep, but for the sake of his sanity. If he makes his voice any louder, he’ll spill all his grievances and question if he had ever meant anything to you.

“We’ve always been alright,” you smile tightly, wrapping your hands around your back.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he pleads, swallowing the lump in his throat. “When did you ever give me bug spray? When did you have to knock on my door, o-or when did you ever have to treat me like I’m some guest and not a huge part of your life?” Yoongi stumbles over his words, correcting himself with a huff. “Most of your life.”

The sarcasm that coats the last of his words makes you twitch, the clench in your jaw being unmistakeable. Yoongi almost forgot what you looked like whenever you argued with him — talked to him, even. “Why are you only bitching about this to me and not to Namjoon? He’s the one who told me to give you the bug spray.”

“This is not about the bug spray!”

“What is it about then? Is this, is this some sort of long-winded euphemism that involves bug spray? What is it Yoongi, are you gonna hound me for an essay about it?” you spit, exhaling heavily. Haneul twitches in his sleep from the corner of your eye. “You grew up and so did I.”

Yoongi flinches like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t do this to me, kid. Don’t do this to us.”

You flinch because anything is better than to have him dig up his old nickname for you as if he’s close; as if he’s still the Yoongi that you chased, as if you’re still the Y/N he looked out for.

“Don’t call me that.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi’s in the kitchen with your mom.

He looks domestic this way, hair tousled and pajamas loose. Even if you have unbridled internet access (courtesy of the high-speed package you split with Namjoon for your mom even if the most she does online is repost motivational quotes, reels of Namjoon and his team, and clips of Jungkook where you’re seen), you can’t muster the courage to search Yoongi’s name and what he’s made of himself.

You’re too scared to search up articles about his success as a producer because if you do, you’re terrified by the thought of accidentally clicking a link that leads you to a page of him and his ex-wife.

You’re too weak to search up the songs he’s had a hand in (that is if you hadn’t heard them before) because you fear that if you even listen for a single second, you might hear how perfect his life has been ever since he left behind everything that he’s ever known.

Even now, you’re too uneasy at the sight of him. He’s in your home and he looks like the version of himself that had never left. The Yoongi in front of you, sitting on your seat at the dining table and peeling tangerines with your mom, resembles the Yoongi that would top off your glass with water whenever you ate with him.

It’s as if you’ve always been in touch for the past five years; it’s as if Yoongi has never aged and you never drifted apart.

“You’re awake,” he remarks, greeting you first before your mom could even register your presence.

“You’re still here,” you reply, the exhale that leaves you making you deflate in reflection. Breakfast isn’t ready yet, but Yoongi’s already slid over a plate to you.

“There. Just how you like them.”

There’s tangerines with barely any pith on them, and iced tea that had more ice cubes in them than there are in the freezer.

Yoongi smiles at you like you’re the old you again; the one who is more forgiving, and the one who is more hopeful.

( ♡ )

If it wasn’t for your brother guilt-tripping you into joining the impromptu road trip, you never would have come.

You didn’t want to come with them in the first place because the very thought of hanging out with Namjoon and Yoongi like old times, this time with the addition of the latter’s son, was too close; too familial. The three already knew each other and had kept in touch and you’re the odd one out. You’re the only planet out of the system and once you’ve come to think of it, that bit of their galaxy never failed. Whether you were in it or not didn’t matter — atleast that’s what you thought.

Yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you’ve heard nothing about it.

You blocked his number and on every social media account he had to his name. Even with Namjoon as a prominent variable, you’re amazed to how you’ve heard little to nothing about Yoongi ever since he left your hometown. You still talked to your brother, of course, but there was an obvious difference to how your conversations went because none of them ever went to Yoongi.

You didn’t tell him to not talk about Yoongi at all. You didn’t instruct him to never utter a single word about his closest friend whom you also grew up with. You never told Namjoon anything concerning Yoongi and what unfolded between the two of you before you left, and yet, it’s almost as if he had already been in your mind and knew exactly what to do.

You’ve come to realize that the prospect of growing up never used to be in your cards. The whole concept of it sat at the very back of your mind, the only times you used to pay attention to it being whenever Yoongi picked at your brain.

You thought your world would have ended when you were 19. You didn’t think you would grow up and see past high school. You didn’t think you would finish college, much less pick a degree to pursue in the first place. You didn’t think of having a future — you didn’t think you’d be living it now in this way.

“Joon,” you mutter, voice barely being heard at the expanse of the balcony you’re in. It’s his balcony in his vacation house he barely stays in, overlooking the waves by the beach he isn’t even that fond of to begin with.

Yoongi and Haneul are already asleep, the father-son duo knocking out way ahead than everyone else. They stayed with the two of you in the balcony hours ago, the bug spray in both the adult and kid edition being proof of it.

Tonight, alone, felt different. It’s as if the younger version of you was gazing out to what was supposed to be your future, except neither the past nor present variant of you could have ever had it for yourself.

“Hm?” he hums, sipping the last of his drink while he’s sat at the far end. You know about each other’s presence, and while years ago, the two of you would’ve been giddy staying in a house as grand as this whilst drinking behind your mom’s back, you and Namjoon grew up. You didn’t fight or anything — you simply grew up and grew apart.

“I never said it before, but thank you,” you exhale, clenching Haneul’s towel as you try to warm your hands. You may have spent the better part of the day not even acknowledging his dad, but you did fawn over him like you would with any other child. “Thank you for not telling me a thing about Yoongi.”

“You’re welcome,” Namjoon finally speaks as soon as he grasps what you were talking about, the smile on his face only lasting for a second. “If it were up to me though, I would have told you everything.”

“Good thing it’s not up to you, hm?” you laugh uneasily, running your hand through your hair. You didn’t know how much you had to be grateful for until Yoongi came back and reminded you of how little you knew about him.

Namjoon breathlessly laughs, looking up at the sky to try and condense everything that has happened through his words before you leave again. “I would have told you that he confessed what happened that time you ran away from home a couple years back, and I beat his ass. We didn’t talk for like, I don’t know, three months? Even when I was still training in the US that time.”

Your lack of a reply is what makes him take notice, the stunned look you have on your face making him snort.

“What?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed as he throws a stray bottle cap at you. “Why are you so shocked? I love him like a brother, but you’re my actual sister,” he confides his loyalty to you, yet you don’t even have a second to express your awe before he opens his mouth again. “I would have told you that I became the best man at his wedding. Even mom was there.”

“You can stop telling me these things now.”

Namjoon exhales, already feeling deep in his chest that you’re gearing up to leave. He wants to get the last word in, not to prove himself, but to try and vindicate you and the quiet suffering you endured without telling anyone.

“I would have told you that Yoongi kept trying to come back to you.”

( ♡ )

Haneul wakes up before Yoongi does.

You’re confused for a second because the moment you hear the lightest footsteps that you ever could pad along the kitchen, you become completely disoriented. There’s a child that looks like Yoongi, wandering off to where you are.

For the briefest second, your heart drops because the whole situation resembles a vignette. In another lifetime, it could’ve been your child, your Haneul, waking up before his dad, trudging to the kitchen where you are is if you’re his mom.

He’s an observant kid, far too trusting unlike his dad who used to scold you to hell and back for even entertaining strangers that asked you for directions. He’s friendly to you; to someone Yoongi had introduced as appa’s close friend. There isn’t even a single hint in how he introduced you to Haneul that the two of you stopped being close. Yoongi didn’t leave the faintest indicator to him that you most probably hated his guts and would probably choose a lifetime where he hadn’t even been in your life at all.

Haneul is innocent to yours and Yoongi’s history and it’s going to stay that way. You don’t meant to change whatever he introduced you as because by the time your mom’s birthday week is over, or by the time Yoongi takes the hint and leaves your hometown again, you would be a fleeting persona in Haneul’s life.

You’re not his mom. You’re not anyone of significance to either him and his dad.

“Good morning,” he greets shyly, his diction telling of how just attentive Yoongi is as a dad. You mostly listened to whatever Namjoon told you last night anyway, tuning out the parts where he rounded to how Yoongi had been miserable not having any contact with you (you don’t believe that at all), and instead zeroing in on the large details that you’ve missed. “Auntie.”

You smile tightly, patting the empty seat beside to you to which he climbs effortlessly.

Haneul doesn’t know you, but you do know him. You know that his dad is a doting, slightly paranoid one whose current dilemma is whether or not enrolling him in kindergarten early or waiting for one more year. You know that Yoongi doesn’t want him to know about the existence of iPads for probably ever, so he spends almost every waking moment talking to him to the point that Haneul’s eloquent at speaking for his age. You also know that Namjoon’s his godfather, and that he had looked after him for a whole day by himself when Yoongi went to settle his divorce.

Haneul doesn’t know you, but you know his parents. You know Yoongi is his dad, and more importantly, that Hyewon is his mom — the same Hyewon who had been with him in your room before, and the same woman Yoongi shared his success with when he made it big.

“Hi,” you greet him softly, handing him his bottle for him to drink from. It’s a warm, domestic vignette for a split second. You’ve watched Yoongi far too many times at the corner of your eye to know where he gets the distilled water. “Why are you up already?”

“Uncle Joonie promised yesterday we can watch the sunrise together,” he says in between sips, letting you comb his hair into order unconsciously. You didn’t even think of it before your hand sweeps the strands scattered on his forehead, the hum you have at the back of your throat pausing when you realized what you’ve done.

“He’s still sleeping right now. He had uh, a long night,” you mutter, at a loss for a child-friendly alternative word for hangover. You keep your hands to yourself because you fear falling into the domesticity that isn’t yours to relax into; if you think about it for a second longer, you’d think that Haneul is yours and Yoongi is the final piece to your puzzle.

“Oh. But I, I wanna watch,” Haneul frowns, brows softly furrowed at your revelation. He’s not close to throwing a tantrum, but the upset expression on his face keeps tugging at your heart to cave.

“You can take your dad with you,” you offer, willing to knock on Yoongi’s door if it meant his son smiling again.

Haneul shakes his head at that, looking up at the ceiling as he recalls the events of last night before being tucked in. “Nuh-uh. Appa had a long night too. He just kept crying.”

A part of you wishes that Haneul didn’t speak so clearly.

“What?” you clarify, heart skipping a beat the more you replay his words in your head.

“Crying?” Haneul repeats, tilting his head as he tries to figure you out. He says it again for a third time as if you needed any clarification of the word and not because of your disbelief that his dad was capable of it. “Like this,” he adds, pretending to bawl with his hands wiping at his eyes.

The scene before you is your brief moment of reprieve, making you chuckle breathlessly as you try to regain your senses. Whether or not Haneul was sure of what he was saying, if Yoongi had cried, it’s most probably not because of anything that has to do with you.

“Oh. So that’s what it means. Thank you, Haneul,” you laugh lowly, patting him on the head until you retract your hand again in realization.

Haneul thinks nothing of your trepidation; he thinks nothing of the yearning behind your eyes, and thinks nothing of the tremble in your voice.

“Can we watch the sunrise together?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as if doing so would be the equivalent of hanging the stars up for him in the sky.

(Read: it probably is, and in another lifetime, or in the far-shot that it happens in this one, you’d do it if he asks you to do so.)

You want to ask Haneul why it’s you who he wants to accompany him, but you don’t. You can wake up either Yoongi and Namjoon to go with him instead, but you won’t.

In another lifetime, this would have been your son, your Haneul asking to watch the sunrise with you. There’s a Yoongi-shaped hole and a Haneul-shaped vacancy in your chest, but you don’t prod about it further.

You don’t question what’s happening, and maybe, just maybe, there’s a tiny part of you that wants to fully accept it instead of hesitating to do so.

“Okay.”

Haneul puts his hand in yours, but you don’t pull away. You just hold him tighter.

( ♡ )

A large part of you forgot that for as long as Yoongi’s here, he’ll treat every interaction you have with Namjoon as an open invitation for him. He had always been this way; for as long as you could remember, he’ll include himself even if he isn’t needed nor wanted.

You can’t count the amount of times your mom had berated Namjoon for something and oddly enough, Yoongi also happened to be there. Whether it was to rat out on his own best friend or being at the receiving end of said scolding, Yoongi jumped at every opportunity to come along as a package deal.

When you asked Namjoon to drink with you at the balcony two days ago, Yoongi butted in and asked what brand of alcohol he should buy you at the convenience store. When you were on the way home and asked your brother what he wanted from the rest stop, Yoongi said he wanted the biggest can of coffee you could find.

And when you asked Namjoon what time you should come to the stadium to watch him practice, Yoongi said he’ll pack you an extra cap while Haneul bonded with your mom.

Sometime long ago, you and Yoongi saw each other eye to eye. You can’t determine when and how exactly, but there was a point in your life where everything you had to say to each other was what the other was thinking all along. Nowadays, you can’t even look at Yoongi in the eye while all he wanted was for you to return his gaze.

If there’s just one thing though, one single variable that remained unchanged between the two of you, it would be Namjoon.

The way Yoongi engages you in conversation this time around is not to trap you and to ramp himself up to apologize again, but purely, it’s to talk about your brother. Namjoon’s a lot of things, and one thing you pray would remain unchanged is the love you have for each other.

“Who would have thought, right?” Yoongi nudges, asking you sincerely. “Who would have thought that the Namjoon who had knockoff cleats years ago would become this world-famous athlete?” he chuckles, shaking his head as he once again tries to digest the fact that this very stadium in your hometown had been built and refashioned in his honor.

You laugh genuinely, the sound being the first he’s ever heard in such a long time.

“Abibas.”

Yoongi has his lips parted, shocked that you were even answering him.

“Abibas. That was the brand of his knockoff cleats,” you chuckle, bowing your head as you try to contain your laughter. “He could’ve bought the original with his allowance and everything, but he split it so he could also buy me knockoffs.”

Yoongi laughs at the memory you jog up in his mind, remembering distinctly how Namjoon kept asking for his opinion repeatedly on which colorway of the knockoff pair he should gift you.

Even if things are still tense between you, even if Namjoon is the only salvation that Yoongi could bring up in a conversation to which you don’t run from, nothing from the past five years could ever take this moment away from you.

The three of you have grown up. Some faster than they’d like, and some because they had no choice but to — nonetheless, in this moment, it’s the three of you back at home like it used to be.

“Namjoon was always meant for greatness. Even from the start,” you murmur, your attention waiting on Yoongi’s response even if your eyes were on Namjoon in the field.

“You are too,” he interjects quickly, voice defensive at the lack of your name to your own sentence.

“No I’m not,” you snort, crossing your arms. You’re not angry when you say it; in fact, you’re calm as if you’ve always seen it coming. “You told me I’d amount to nothing.”

You’re calm, seemingly at peace with what you just said and what Yoongi had ingrained in your head before, but he’s the furthest thing from it. His mouth hangs open, chest tightening impossibly as he shakes his head eagerly.

“I never said that!”

You’re about to counter him when you hear a familiar holler reach you at the lower section of the bleachers, eyes perking to see a familiar figure who isn’t blood-related to you.

“Y/N!” Jimin runs up to you faster than to whenever he passes the ball to Namjoon, engulfing you in a massive hug that forces you up to your feet before you know it.

“Oh my god, Jimin! I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” you awe at the sight of him, unwilling to break away from the embrace until he does so. It’s been ages since you’ve seen him, the second-best player in the team (you’re biased because of course Namjoon had been the best player to you since you were kids) being the closest member to you out of everyone.

Jimin doesn’t care for Yoongi. He knows of the guy and he doesn’t want to know any more than he already does. He doesn’t even acknowledge the guy’s presence; all he does is squeeze you tighter and twirl you briefly in his arms.

“Fuck, me neither. Heaven must’ve healed my ankle quicker so I could come here and see you,” he flirts playfully, earning a well-deserved eye roll from you.

“And you know, play for Korea.”

“Eh. That too, I guess,” he shrugs, sitting at the seat beside you. He looks straight at you and only you — Jimin only pauses to snort to himself when he notices that Yoongi’s squirming in his seat, beyond annoyed and frustrated.

( ♡ )

On the fifth day of Yoongi staying over at your house, there’s a power outage.

The sound of everything shutting off together in sync makes you jolt, the collective groan you hear outside from the neighborhood comforting you in solidarity.

You can only make out a grunt from Namjoon and a gasp from your mom until you hear the trembling voice of Haneul, the sound of a cry that crawls up his throat putting everyone on their feet.

“Oh baby, it’s okay, it’s okay! It’s just a little dark, that’s all,” Yoongi pipes up instantly, scooping him up in his arms without having to fumble for where he is because he could practically locate his son in his sleep.

You didn’t want for it to be a power outage, but oddly enough, you feel sorry that it happened while you’re here. “It’s okay, Haneul,” you whisper as consolation, the dark of the night shielding you from how Yoongi’s eyes widen at your cooing for his son. “Mom, where did you put that generator I got you?”

“About that,” she sheepishly shrugs, turning on her phone to illuminate her shyness. “I donated it last year to the public school nearby.”

“It’s gonna get so hot,” Namjoon groans, the sound of him clumsily feeling around for the lights alerting Haneul briefly. He comforts him instantly, finally turning on the torch in his phone instead of relying on his instincts. “Don’t cry, Haneul, alright? Uncle Joonie’s gonna get the candles and the flashlights.”

“I’ll go try to find a guy,” you get up as soon as Namjoon hands you a flashlight, your contribution to help instantly being shut down.

“You can’t just try to find a guy, Y/N. That’s dangerous,” Yoongi scoffs, putting a hand on your forearm to pull you.

“I meant on my phone, Yoongi,” you grit. “I was gonna go outside to try and look for a signal.”

“That’s still dangerous,” he narrows his eyes at you as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Give me a break,” you mutter, removing his hold from you. You’d save your pride and actually go outside if not for your mom interjecting that she knows an electrician from her contacts.

Namjoon comes back after his quest for battery-powered fans and flashlights, unaware of how Yoongi’s protective streak for you practically never disappeared; in fact, it came back twofold. “Whole neighborhood’s out. Must be a broken transformer or something.”

Your mom consoles Haneul in her arms.

Namjoon waits by the gate for the electrician.

You and Yoongi clean the fridge up before anything spoils.

In between getting food out and embracing Haneul every now and then who insisted on obediently sitting atop the counter so he’s closer to his dad, Yoongi holds your hand.

“That’s my hand that you’re holding,” you murmur, assuming that he had mistaken yours for Haneul’s as he’s always chuckled how yours always seemed to be small against his.

Yoongi only hums.

“I know.”

( ♡ )

You’re falling back into your old routine.

Maybe it’s how your mom has to shake you awake because otherwise, you’d sleep through the afternoon and would therefore be unable to sleep through the night. On the other hand, it could be Namjoon who either hounds you to hang out with him or tell you off for clinging to him too much.

Maybe, it’s just Yoongi. It’s him who’s tricking your brain into thinking that has nothing changed with the way he keeps peeling fruits for you and telling you to be safe even if you’re only buying ice cream from the convenience store.

It’s only been a week and a half of almost normalcy, save for the fact that there are certain things and connections you can neither reverse nor rekindle.

You’re convinced, almost fully convinced that history is repeating itself except for the bitter, ugly parts of it that you never want to pop in your head again.

Like the past, Namjoon blocks you for whatever reason in his head but this time he does it to you while you’re on the way to your room, on the quest to retrieve your charger for your phone that you barely even used for work purposes.

“It’s my room. Why can’t I go in my room?” you furrow your brows at him, your amusement turning into annoyance the more that Namjoon pushed you with actual strength instead of playfulness.

“Are you hungry? Let’s go out for dinner,” he changes the subject quickly, turning you towards the stairs.

You shouldn’t have questioned him further — you should’ve left it at that.

“I guess? I’ll just get my purse,” you concede, dodging his attempts to haul you downstairs.

“I’ll pay,” Namjoon insists and although it’s not out of the blue for him, his franticness is what keeps you on edge.

“I still need my-…” you counter, being interrupted when he holds you firmly as you attempt to walk towards your door. Namjoon grips you with a silent plead, one that you can’t even decipher. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

You finally break off his grip at once, walking into your room with a renowned determination.

It’s not only your routine that falls back into place, but it’s your whole worldview that does.

Love is terribly human. It’s a loose thread on your shirt that gets snagged on your doorknob. It’s a coat in your closet waiting to be worn for the supposed perfect time, and when you do, you realize that it no longer fits you.

Love is terribly human, and it is terribly Yoongi, Hyewon, and Haneul.

Love is terribly human and fragile, and it’s Yoongi, Hyewon, and their son sleeping on your bed.

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt ii

pairing: halbrand/sauron x reader; there will be two love triangles in the future

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: In all beings, there exists darkness. when the deciver finds one who seems to defy this, he becomes obsessed with finding it within her. and if he can't find it, he will ruin her himself.

Tag: dark romance, slow burn, sauron is Stressed™️ , sauron is so horny he contemplates murder, minor sex mention, idk what else to tag or warn

Notes: 24 hours later I already have part 2 done. I was going to have up until galadriel joins the raft for part 2 but I have a lot of ideas so I'm splitting them up. I am also stretching the time during season 1, like instead of being a couple months it's gonna be about a year because it's my fic and I can do that. Saurons pov is all over the place bc he is all over the place and yeah. Feed back always welcome and lemme know if you wanna be tagged. Oh and everything was still done on my phone so sorry if it's weird.

Series Masterlist

It was all a blur for you. You were woken from sleep by the creature attacking the ship and in the flurry of rushing water, screams, and the sound of breaking wood. You had found a pair of arms around your waist. You held your breath and clamped your eyes shut, if you were to die you didn't want your last memory on this Earth to be of the ship's wreckage and the corpses of your traveling companions floating under the water. These fears disappeared as you broke to the surface of the sea with the arms around your waist still holding you securely. You gasped and filled your lungs with air, wet hair obstructing your view, but you could see the familiar face of your savior.

“Halbrand?” You coughed.

He hummed a response, and you could feel the sound reverberate in his chest. It was comforting, the feeling of his strong arms and solid chest. Despite the cold of the waters, his body was abnormally warm, and you found yourself pressing into him for more of that heat.

“There's a raft not far. I think there's another survivor or two aboard it.” He spoke, securing one arm tightly around your body as he used his other to move through the water.

You squinted and could see what you suspected to be the raft he spoke of, but it was rather far for him to swim carrying you “I can swim. I do not wish you to have to carry me all that way through the water.”

“No,” he responded firmly. “There is some terrible beast who just destroyed our ship. I will not allow you to go out on your own in the water.”

“But then we could both die if it finds us.”

Halbrand looked down at you, looking into your eyes as he spoke. “In that case, my conscience will be clear because I will be dead. I can already see the arguments forming on your tongue, and the answer is still no.”

He gave you a pointed look at which you nodded, “Thank you. Now hold on, sweet one.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist, closing your eyes. This has been quite the journey for you. You missed home, but you longed for a new start, a new place where your family's reputation didn't loom over you, and you weren't regarded with suspicion at every turn. You couldn't allow yourself to think this was it, that you'd die like this at the sea. You'd been through too much.

You didn't know if it had been 15 minutes or 3 hours when you heard a voice call out your name from the raft, the woman who'd slept across from you. You had only introduced yourselves and not talked much at all, but it was still a familiar voice.

“Here, help her up,” Halbrand called to one of the men as he hoisted you as best he could on to the raft. “There you go, sweet one.”

You pulled yourself up on the raft, and almost instantly, you found yourself falling asleep on the wood. Exhaustion took you after the adrenaline drop of finally being out of the water. You were swept into sleeps embrace as the sun began to peak over the horizon.

~

You awoke, rubbing the sleep out from your eyes and looking around you. The horrors of that night replayed in your mind, but then you remembered Halbrand. You sat up and noticed that the raft was considerably larger, different pieces of driftwood tied together, and makeshift sails set up. There were also more survivors than last night, but it was a considerably small amount. Your eyes roamed the passengers, but you couldn't find the one you sought.

“Your awareness of your surroundings is incredibly lacking.”

You startled at the sound of his deep voice, causing him to chuckle. He had been lying down and sat up as you turned to look at him. “Glad you woke, sweet one. If you'd slept much longer, I'm sure they'd try to add you to our rations.”

“There's rations?” You asked eagerly, unable to ignore the emptiness in your belly.

Halbrand nodded, “There is. He”- he motioned to an older man on the other side of the raft - “didn't want to give you any because you were sleeping, but I was able to do some convincing.” He handed you a chunk of bread and a small portion of dried meat.

You gave him your thanks, and as you grabbed it, you noticed his knuckles were bloodied. A quick glance at the old man, who you now noticed was sporting a bruise and a few cuts under his eye, gave you the answers you needed.

“Tell me you didn't strike an old man for this?”

He sighed, rolling his eyes and pushing the bread and meat further into your chest. “If I tell you he fell upon my fist, will you eat it? How I came about this matters not. What matters is you will not last if you do not eat.”

You sighed, feeling guilty but taking a bit nonetheless. The feeling of the bread and dried meat hitting your barren stomach was enough to make you moan softly. Halbrand chuckled, watching you and leaning against one of the makeshift masts.

“Thank you. For the food and for saving me. I don't know how to express my gratitude for all you've done for me,” you swallowed and wet your lips. “Though I must admit I'm greatly confused as to why.”

You looked over at him, brow furrowed as you awaited an answer.

“Because you are fair of face. I can not imagine the despair I'd fall into if I was stuck on a raft with nothing but them to look at,” he motioned to other inhabitants, “it would be quite bleak indeed.”

You couldn't help the blush that formed on the bridge of your nose and traveled across your cheeks. Despite this, you still shook your head. “There is no need to be rude or dishonest. I simply ask for the truth.”

“I admit that was rude, but it was anything but dishonest. You are beautiful, and I quite like looking at you,” his eyes noticed your blush, and it caused him to smirk - if only he knew of the butterflies forming in your stomach at his affirmation.

“Though,” he continued, “you are right. That is not the reason I saved you. It's only an added benefit. When I met you on the ship, there had been many that had complained that there was not enough notice. That I would deplete the rations and that they would have to recalculate everything. But you brought me extra soup, and it wasn't a small portion either. You brought it because you knew I had been on my own and assumed I'd been without food. You had no selfish intention. You were simply kind to a stranger because you felt it was the right thing to do. There is not enough of that in the world, and humanity can not bear to lose someone like you who is kind and good for no other purpose than that it is right.”

“Oh,” your voice was small, and your entire face burned bright red at his compliments.

“I would tell you more, but I'm afraid if I do, you may burst into flames.”

~

The waves rocked the raft gently, the previous night it had lulled you into a nice, deep sleep but there's only so much to do on a raft in the middle of nowhere and you had spent the majority of that time asleep. Your eyes watched the stars, feeling lucky that the sky was full of them and that the moon shone bright. The thought of endless darkness, especially knowing what was out there hunting in the ocean depths, was a terrifying thought. The sound of the others snores mixed with the sounds of the waves.

There was only one other who was still awake. Halbrand was busy tightening the ropes to secure the pieces of the raft together. You had noticed he did not sleep much. You had been on the raft for 3 nights and two days, and most of that time was spent with him. Though there wasn't much conversation, you seemed to be the only one on the raft he wasn't annoyed with. You caught him looking at you at times, which made you think he really did mean what he said on that first day.

“Still looking for hope in the stars, sweet one?” Halbrand teased with a smirk as he walked to where she sat and sat down next to her so close that their legs touched.

“Have you forgotten my name? You seem to only refer to me as ‘sweet one’.” You asked, tearing your eyes from the stars to look at him.

He rolled his eyes, your name rolling from his tongue. “Do you not like my nickname?”

“It is fine. I was just curious, and I wasn't quite sure why.” You looked up at him as you awaited his answer.

“Because you're sweet. Hence, sweet one.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You're quite the flirt, Halbrand.”

“Only with you, sweet one.” He playfully pushed his shoulder into yours, and he sat there with you, looking up at the stars.

You enjoyed the moment. The heat from his body and the solid feeling of him next to you brought contentment. You wondered if it was meaningless flirtations or if he could mean all of it. You pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. You were stranded on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Any romantic feelings you may be growing for him were unimportant in the face of that fact.

You looked over at him, and your eyes trailed down to the relic that hung from his neck. You'd noticed it before but had never thought to ask about it. Your fingers gently reached for it so you could get a better look.

“What is this?” You tilted your head, holding it in your palm.

“Have you seen it before?” His voice was soft, but his brown eyes watched your face intently.

You shook your head in answer.

“It's the heraldry of my family. I only asked if you'd seen it because it has been almost an age since we used it. I can't imagine any family in the Southlands has used heraldry in some time.”

You turned it over in your palm, examining it further. “Why do you carry it?”

He wet his lips, gently taking it from your fingers and looking at it himself. “It's a reminder, a grim one, that our fates are never certain and that fortune can change for anyone. We've seen that here,” he motioned around them.

“Is it a grim reminder? I find it quite hopeful. No matter what, nothing is certain, and nothing lasts forever. There may be evil, and there may be terribly dark times, but those times do not last forever. There is also good. Also times of wonder and prosperity.”

He laughed, smiling as he looked at you. “Of course, that is what you would say. Ever the light and so full of hope.”

~

It was not long after this that you had fallen asleep. He still sat next to you awake as ever. His mind reeling and racing with millions of thoughts, the conflict within him felt as though it would rip right through him. He wanted control and order. It was the only way in which this world could know peace. He also wanted revenge on Adar, on the orcs who attempted to kill him.

But he remembered Morgoth. He remembered his former master and the chase for power that ended in his utter destruction. Even before then, Morgoth had become enslaved to the power he held and the power he craved. That was a fate that Sauron did not wish to share. He did not want to lose control for the sake of power, but he would never be quenched without having power. He could not have both.

Then there was you. He had not expected you, and he was finding himself enthralled with you. He could not understand you or the effect you had on him. A human, of all creatures, making him question all he knew to be true. He had not lusted for the pleasures of the flesh in thousands upon thousands of years and it was never for a human but when your eyes gazed up at him through your lashes or when he saw the smile stretch across your lips and the dimples that followed, it made it impossible not to imagine how those same eyes would look gazing up at him as you kneel at his feet or how those lips would look parted in ecstasy. His thoughts were plagued with the idea of taking you, tasting you, and utterly corrupting you.

It was all incredibly inconvenient.

This wasn't part of the plan and if it was just lust that plagued him, perhaps he could drown you and be done with it but the infatuation with understanding you and your motives and how you became this way stopped his hand. And the damn warmth that radiated from you that reminded him of the home he could never return to. With you curled into his side, he could close his eyes and imagine a time before he was corrupted. It made him wonder if he truly was past all redemption.

When those thoughts dared make themselves known, he'd imagine you looking up at him with tears streaming down your cheeks and his cock shoved down your throat.

His eyes drifted toward the water. It wouldn't be hard. He's so much stronger than you. He could handle any resistance as he pushed you under the waves, and then his mind would be free of those thoughts. But then he looked at you, and a million unanswered questions filled his mind. He knew if he killed you, they would remain unanswered and would plague him forever.

He cursed under his breath and watched as you slept. The choir of a million thoughts did not stop, and he briefly wondered if you would be his undoing.

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[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Part 7: Can I Keep You?✨

Dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: This fic is coming to a close, and I’ve loved writing every word of this one 🥹 Thank you to @lotusbxtch for beta reading 🩵 I plan to write an epilogue for this, and I may write some one-shots to throw in if I get the inspiration in the future. Thank you for coming along on this journey with me!

Summary: Christmas with your parents and the Millers was all fine, until they caught you with Joel.

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 6.1k

Chapter Tags: A little angst, arguments, no use y/n, lots of fluff, soft Joel, switching POVs, going to omit some tags due to spoilers

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Christmas Day is here before you know it as the cool air blows against your crimson sweater. It sinks through your denim jeans as you make your way back into the house, back to where Joel and Sarah sit in the living room. A football game is playing over the flat screen, and glistening lights flash against the huge tree that sits in the corner of the room.

   Snowflakes tap lightly against the glass as your dad gives your mom the last of her gifts, your eyes flicking over to Joel as he leans into the back of the leather couch, a smile curled against the corner of his mouth as he steals glances your way every few seconds.

   God, his smile gets you every single time, making butterflies flit through your stomach as you take in the brown doe eyes that you can’t seem to keep your eyes off. You just can’t believe he’s yours. Something he reminds you every single day.

   You cling to the fleece blanket Joel gifted you, twisting your fingers against the soft material, bathing in the woodsy scent that sticks to it. And let’s not forget the Metallica concert tickets he got you, winking when your dad asked who you were taking. Joel fucking Miller, that’s who. Your man. Yours.

   He’s wearing the new hunter green flannel you got him, the material clinging against his broad shoulders, biceps hugging the sleeves as you try not to drool in your spot because the man just looks so damn good. 

   You want to sit in his lap, rake your fingers through his greying curls, let his lips brush against yours while his large hands pull you flush to his strong chest, let his woodsy scent completely lather you as you get lost in this plush lips, fingers scraping over his soft scruff. You just want him.

   “Hey, Sarah. Wanna go over to the Silverton’s for a few minutes with Claire and I?” Your dad asks as Sarah bounces off the couch, excited to visit because they always make her favorite chocolate chip cookies. 

   “Heck yeah! Dad, wanna come, too?” she asks as her long hair swishes behind her shoulders, her sparkling eyes finding yours after she calls your name a second later.

   Joel flicks his brown eyes your way and shakes his head. “Nah, you go on, kid. Gonna stay back this time.”

   She looks between the two of you and snickers, knowing exactly why you both had said no. She knows, and she absolutely loves the idea of you and Joel together which makes this whole situation much easier to navigate.

   “Hun, you sure you don’t wanna come?” your dad asks as he pulls his bulky winter jacket on.

   You shake your head. “No, I’m fine. Just gonna sit around the fire and watch some football,” you reply, trying to hide your smile as Joel smirks your way.

   “Football, huh? When did you become such a football fan?” he laughs.

   You shrug your shoulders and smile. “Guess I figured it’s not too bad to watch.”

   Joel shakes his head, chuckling under his breath at the memory of a few nights ago. You were sat on the edge of his bed, his cock stretching your drenched walls wide as he thrusted his hips up and down, your back flush to his broad chest as the glow of the tv played a football game you were paying no attention to, just focusing on how fucking good he felt thrusting his cock deep inside your pussy until he made you come hard and long. 

   “Think she figured out how hard those players play ball,” Joel smirks. You giggle at the memory and throw a fuzzy pillow over at him as he catches it before your parents can see. 

   “Suit yourself. See y’all in a little bit.” He waves as he rushes your mom and Sarah through the door with a present wrapped in glittery blue paper tucked snugly under his arm.

   The second they’re gone, you throw your blanket off and make your way to Joel, collapsing onto the leather couch as he tucks you snuggly into his side. You slide the palm of your hand up the inside of his black shirt, resting your fingers on his warm stomach as you breathe in the smell of his woodsy cologne.

   “Comfy?” he asks, chuckling as he pulls you closer into his broad body.

   “Very,” you smile. He bends his head down and presses a kiss slowly to your forehead, his fingers tracing the ends of your spiral curls as you sigh at the softness that makes Joel just perfect.

   “Figured,” he chuckles.

   You watch the fire crackle with orange sparks in your vision, the Christmas lights shining brightly as the tree glitters with dark green lights twinkling in the corner. It’s quiet in here, a peaceful Christmas evening, and you have Joel all to yourself for the next few minutes. 

   Joel runs his fingers lazily over your back, pushing your hair across your left shoulder as he trails the back of his calloused index finger over your jawline. “I, ummm, got you one more gift,” he says nervously, his free hand raking down his greying scruff.

   You sit up straight and stare at him, spellbound. Another present? “Joel, what more could you possibly give me? I mean, those Metallica tickets must’ve cost you a fortune! And that fancy steak dinner you took me to? You’ve done enough,” you giggle, letting your hand fall down on his denim clad thigh.

   He chuckles and shakes his head. “I know, but jus’ trust me. I think you’re gonna like this one,” he smiles as he digs deep inside the pocket of his dark jeans, pulling a light blue velvet jewelry box out as he displays it in the palm of his hand.

   You open your mouth wide in shock, your index finger grazing the outside of the velvety case as your mind starts ticking like a timebomb. “What is it?” you whisper, not even recognizing the muttering voice that asks the question.

   “Open it and see,” he smiles, his brown doe eyes sparkling with excitement as he hands you the tiny box.

   You slowly grasp it in your palm, taking a deep breath as you carefully open the lid of the box. Your eyes grow wide when you see a silver chain necklace displayed inside, complete with a key that glints under the dim lights of the living room. You pull it out and assess it, running your fingers over the crisp edges, and then when you turn the key around you freeze.

   Right there in the middle of the silver key are the words “Miller’s Girl” carved in fancy cursive, completewith a little heart to the right of the name. You freeze, your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you take in the most perfect gift he’s given you by far. “Joel…” you whisper, eyes glossing over as you think you know what this is.

   He turns you toward him and leans in, a crooked smile pressed against his mouth as he looks at you with longing, syrupy eyes that make you want to just melt into a puddle on the floor. “I know you’ve been havin’ a hard time pickin’ an apartment out of all the ones we’ve looked at, but I want you to forget that. Forget every single one we’ve ever viewed, forget the paperwork, forget the costs, forget it all,” he murmurs quickly. 

   You drop the jewelry box on the floor without a thought in your mind, one hand latched onto the silver necklace, the other laced through his fingers, holding on to every single word he’s telling you.

   “You don’t belong in any of them. You jus’ belong in my bed, in my house, with me,” he states, honey-glazed eyes locking with yours as heat builds in your chest.

   “Joel…” you whisper, losing your breath as you pull yourself back together. “Are you asking me to…?”

   “Yes,” he sighs, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear tenderly. “I’m askin’ you to move in with me because I jus’ can’t stand that thought of not havin’ you in my arms every single night now, sweetheart. Wanna take this a step further, if that’s what you want, too,” he smiles as he brushes the tip of his thumb over your lower lip. “Wanna see what it’s like wakin��� up to your gorgeous face in the mornings, wanna know what it’s like havin’ you in my space permanently. Move in with me.”

   Your eyes glaze over with pure admiration and love for every single word Joel just spilled from his lips. You think it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

   You throw your arms around his neck and wrap him tight in your embrace as his arms tangle around your back. “Yes, a million times yes!” you shriek, planting your lips on his as he pulls you down against his lap. 

   When he pulls away, he spins you around, instructing you to hold your hair up as he carefully latches the necklace around your neck. When you turn back around and face him, one hand is caressing your cheek softly while the other is curving down your personalized necklace, the literal key to his heart.

   Your thumb traces over the words Miller’s Girl and end on the heart as his hand comes down to clasp around yours. “Miller’s Girl, huh?” you ask with a wide smile splayed all over your mouth.

   “That’s right, sweetheart. Thought I’d get it carved on there to remind you jus’ who you belong to so you never forget,” he smiles, his glistening eyes bright and beautiful as he presses a delicate kiss to the back of your knuckles.

   You giggle and shake your head in amazement, watching the absolute love of your life express just how he feels about you. It’s all so surreal, all so perfect. And you honestly think it couldn’t get much better than this.

   “You really want me to move in?” you whisper as you look into those gentle brown eyes you can’t get enough of.

   “I really do, sweetheart,” he smiles.

   He cups your chin and brings you to his mouth slowly, and then your lips are on his. The kiss is slow, passionate as your fingers curl around his soft flannel, breathing in the woodsy cologne that makes your head dizzy. 

   “Never gonna let you go,” he whispers as his mouth crashes back down on yours while your arms lock around his neck, and he pulls you flush to his chest. 

   You get so wrapped up in the kiss that you don't hear the front door being shoved open, and then your world shifts and stops in the next second.

   “What the hell is this!” your dad shouts across the room. 

 You frantically pull away from Joel and shoot up from the couch, clutching your necklace with wide eyes as you freeze. Oh, shit. 

   Joel pushes himself off the leather couch and holds a hand out. “George, I can explain,” Joel replies softly, but you can see the panic flaring in his dark brown eyes.

   “Can you explain why you have your mouth and your hands all over my daughter?!” he yells angrily as his roar echoes around the vicinity of the house. Sarah looks between you and Joel and wishes she could help; your mom just stands there with her hand on her chest like she can’t believe this is happening. 

   Joel takes a deep breath and sighs. “Jus’ cool it, George. I can explain.”

   Your dad cuts Joel’s voice off and shoves past him, snatching your wrist as he starts to drag you toward the sliding glass door. “Excuse me, I need to talk to my daughter alone. I’ll deal with you next,” he growls as he throws you outside on the patio and slams the door shut, only having it become open again as your mom slips outside. 

   Your blood races in your body, and you can’t stop the sheer panic that’s making your heart beat straight out of your chest. “Wanna tell me why the fuck my best friend was all over you?” he asks sternly with his big hands on his hips.

   “We… we're together!” you stutter out.

   “Together? You mean to tell me you two have been dating behind my back?” His eyes glow almost red, and you fight to hide behind anything to shield yourself from how mad he looks. 

   “Yes! We’ve been dating! Not like we could’ve told you because this is how your reaction would’ve been!” 

   “That don’t give you the right to be sneaking behind my back, little girl. And Joel?! For the love of god, he’s twice your age! You know how bad that looks having my best friend go after my daughter who’s still in college?” he bites out with gnashing teeth.

   “I’m not a child, Dad! I’m twenty-six-years-old,” you pout while you cross your arms over your chest, feeling the bite of frigid wind blast through your sweater. “And I’m not in college. I’m in law school, which is super hard to even get into in the first place. And you know what? I’m making straight A’s! But you wouldn’t get that, would you? Because once again, you’re disregarding my accomplishments and making me feel awful about them.” You feel warm tears splash against your cheeks while your mom just stands there in shock. She wouldn’t dare interrupt when your dad is having a meltdown, but you see it in her glossy eyes that she doesn’t agree with him. Maybe she’s on your side after all. 

   “I’m not overlooking your accomplishments,” he scoffs as he shakes his head.

   “Yes, you are! Are you hearing yourself?”

   “Just cool it, kid. Enough. He’s forty-five, twice your age. What the fuck were you thinking? Did he manipulate you into this or did he just decide it was okay to screw around with my daughter?” he asks with an angry tick of his jaw.

   “No, it wasn’t like that at all! Joel is a nice guy, Dad. He would never hurt me. He cares about me, just like I care about him. And I really really like him, Dad.” You catch your breath and loosen the tight grip on your necklace as it falls against your chest. That was clearly a mistake because now he sees the glint of the key, and his eyes grow furious. 

   “What the fuck is this?” he asks angrily as he snatches it and yanks it off your neck. You reach for it, but he swipes it away as he inspects the silver key. “Miller’s girl. The hell does he think he’s doing? Is that a key to his place? Is that why you’ve taken so long to find an apartment because you were planning all along to move in with him?!” His voice is so splattered in anger that you barely recognize the man that stands in front of you, even your mom looks taken aback with wide eyes. 

   “No, Dad! God, just stop! If you can’t talk to me like a normal adult, then just stop. Me and Joel are together whether you like it or not. And that’s not going to stop either of our feelings.”

   “Feelings, huh? That what this is?” He scoffs, scowling down at the necklace as his thumb pierces into the metal. “You clearly don’t know anything, hun. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

   “But Dad, I love him!” you whine, biting your lip to keep fresh tears from slipping down your cheeks.

   “Love?!” he ridicules, spitting out the word like it’s poison on his tongue. “You don’t know anything about love or Joel,” he mutters. 

   “No? I think I know a hell of a lot more about Joel than you do. If you really took a good look at the picture, you’d see how clearly in love me and Joel are with each other. And this is why we decided to not tell you because you just wouldn’t understand. This is why I can’t tell you anything! Because you just throw it back in my face and never support my decisions. God, just for once don’t try to fight me on the one thing I want!” You blow out a deep breath and fist your tight knuckles at your sides.

   “He’s not a good fit for you,” he mumbles under his breath while his fingers tap mindlessly against your necklace.

   “No? Do you know who took me to Galveston when you canceled last minute? Joel did! And who took me around to look at multiple apartments, who spent hours trying to help me find exactly what I wanted? Joel! And you know who is always there for me, who helps me study for tests in my law classes, who is there for me no matter what time of day it is? Joel, Joel, Joel! That’s who! Not you, the man who’s supposed to always be there for me but can’t be. So forgive me for falling in love with someone that could give me everything I needed when I was never given those things in the first place!”

   He looks at you with his jaw ticked, his eyes red from the anger that boils inside him. And maybe you see a tad bit of sorrow and regret in his lost eyes, but he doesn’t even apologize. He just clutches the silver necklace tighter and forms his mouth in a tight line. “Hun, just let me explain,” he tries.

   “Explain?” You laugh and wipe a tear from your lash line. 

   “Yes! Look, I know I haven’t always been there for you with work and everything. But hun, Joel is not the answer to…”

   You turn sharply and cut him off, looking to your mom who just stands in the corner meekly by the sliding door with her eyes wide and mouth locked shut. “Mom, please! Back me up here?”

   “George, just listen to her. Will you? You’re not hearing her,” she tries with an even breath.

   “I’ve heard enough!” he barks as he turns back to you with a deep scowl on his face, obviously still very unhappy with you. But when was he ever happy with you in the first place? Almost never. 

   “Yeah, I’m sure you have. Because you never listen. Thanks for letting me down once again, Dad.” You brush past him without stopping for the necklace, letting the tears burn hot in your eyes as the world slowly caves in on you. You don’t even look at your mom as you rush past her, just needing to be anywhere that they’re not so you can breathe.

   Breathe. Remember how to breathe.

   You sniffle and rub at your blurry eyes, and then you find Joel standing in the middle of the living room with the saddest brown eyes he’s ever given you. This just makes you cry more.

   “Baby, you alright?” he asks with a shaky breath, reaching out an open hand for you as if he can take all the pain away.

   “No.” You push away from his advances and knock your shoulder against his, tugging away until you’re practically sprinting for the door. You don’t stop for Sarah who’s standing in the kitchen, don’t stop for Joel calling your name in that broken tone of his, all you do is rush for fresh air where you’re alone, where you can think. But you don’t really want to be alone, do you? You just want Joel. But your dad has completely ruined that. He ruined everything. 

   Joel feels the icy sting as your shoulder brushes past him; he sees the tears cloud your beautiful eyes as they cascade down your flawless face. He knows he’s fucked, knows your father will hate him now, but all he wants to do is pull you into his strong arms so he can hold you and tell you everything will be alright, that the two of you will be just fine. Because he’s not letting you go. No. He’ll never let you go. Not even if your father hates his guts now.

   Just when he starts to turn and go to you, he feels a looming presence behind him that feels a lot like a rush of cold ice freezing him out. 

   “Joel, a word.” George’s deep voice fills the room, and Joel nods and walks with his head down low like he’s a puppy being scolded for making a mess on the kitchen floor.

   The air feels frigid, and he digs his large hands nervously into the pocket of his jeans while he stands on the back porch and looks over to see George practically tearing him to shreds with just his predatory eyes across the way.

   “How long?” His voice is clipped, and Joel shivers at the sound of that icy tone.

   “George, I…”

   “How. Long.” 

   “Almost seven months…” he says quietly with his head down low.

   “Jesus Christ, Joel.”

   He holds up a palm and tries to explain, but his shaky breath doesn’t do him any favors. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

   “Didn’t what? That’s my daughter, Joel!” His eyes glow violent against the hue of the orange sunset that’s painted in the sky, murky clouds trying to fog over the brightness like the depths of his dark soul right now.

   “I know! You don’t think I didn’t think of that before I started this whole thing?” Joel’s jaw ticks, and his thick fingers form into tight fists as he tries to stay in control. 

   “I don’t know, Joel. You tell me.” George narrows his eyes and crosses his arms as he waits for an explanation.

   “It’s not like I planned to fall for your daughter, it just happened.”

   “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me!” George slams his hand against the closed grill, and Joel sees the glimmer of your silver necklace that sits locked in his unforgiving fist. The one with the key to his heart he so casually gave you earlier. Joel’s eyes glisten with frustrated tears, but he doesn’t let a single one fall. He’s stronger than that.

   “Because this is why I didn’t, why we didn’t! Because we knew you’d be pissed.” His rugged voice comes out clipped because he’s tired, so very tired of hiding his feelings. No more, he’ll lay it out thick if he has to.

   “You’re damn right I’m pissed! You’ve been secretly dating my twenty-six-year-old daughter without me knowing and have been sneaking around this whole time. Hell, did anyone else know?”

   “Sarah knew,” Joel says quietly as he takes a step back.

   “Oh, so you tell her but not me?��� George looks positively pissed, to say the least.

   “I didn’t tell her, she figured it out herself. Saw us on a date, and I couldn’t cover that up. So yes, she knows. And Tommy knows, too.”

   “Even better,” George chuckles. “And this? What do you have to say about this?” He clutches the silver key in his palm and stares angrily at Joel while his mouth ticks up in a deep scowl. 

   “That’s… I asked her to move in with me.” There’s no getting around this, so he might as well come clean. But every bone in his body tells him to grab the necklace and run out the door. He needs to make sure you’re okay. That’s the only thing that matters now.

   “Move in with you! Why would you…”

   “Because I love her…” His voice is soft, quiet, like he’s afraid he’ll disturb anyone that hears. 

   “I don’t wanna hear—”

   “George, let him talk. I want to hear this,” Claire turns and nods to him. “Go on, Joel.” Joel hesitates but gives her a tight-lipped smile and says thank you with his softening eyes.

   George pinches the bridge of his nose while he waits, and Joel takes a deep breath before he speaks, letting his nerves settle before he spills it all. “She’s been so stressed tryin’ to find the perfect apartment, and nothing right was workin’. And I jus’… I’d rather her move in with me. ‘Cause I want her there, and I’d look after her and take care of her, and…”

   George grunts and clenches the silver key harder, but Claire just gives him a stern look and tells Joel to continue. “Go on,” she encourages with a small smile. 

   Joel takes a breath and starts again. “Look, George, I never meant to fall for your daughter, but I did. And you know what? It was the best decision of my life. She’s so… she’s so kind and smart as hell. And she jus’ is the brightest ray of sunshine and lights up my entire life. And she’s so beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the world.”

   Claire tears up a little in the corner, and Joel picks absentmindedly at the fringe on his flannel. He can’t help but grin as he thinks of your beautiful smile, the way you make him feel as if no one else in the world exists when you’re with him. You’re like the golden sunset that stays up just long enough to wrap him in pure warmth and sunlight, the one thing that keeps his heart pumping through his veins. You’re it for him, he thinks you always have been. He just didn’t know it till this year.

   “I never thought this would happen, but it did. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Even if it meant ruining our friendship and you never forgiving me. I can’t give her up, George. I won’t. She makes me so fuckin’ happy, and I’d die before there was a day I ever hurt her. Losing her isn’t a choice for me because I love her, will continue to love her for as long as I live.”

   “Joel…” Claire smiles with a gleam in her clear eyes. “You really love her?”

   “Mmm. I really do. I’d do jus’ about anything for that girl. She’s so precious to me. So forgive me if I’ve spent the last almost seven months givin’ her everything I possibly could. She has my heart and always will.”

   Claire shifts and wipes a stray tear from her eyes, giving him a warm smile that says she’s so happy her daughter has him. And that takes some relief off his burdened back. Now it’s just George he has to worry about.

   George stares and stares at the silver necklace with knit eyebrows, contorting his features into something Joel can’t make out what it means. There’s a beat of hesitance before George looks up and stares directly into Joel’s eyes, like he’s hearing him clearly for the first time. “You really love my little girl, don’t you…” His eyes clear up, no more hatred or scowling or anything remotely hostile. They’re just awestruck.

   “With all my heart,” Joel mutters through the chill of the evening. 

   The cold breeze slips through Joel’s tousled curls, running straight down his spine while he waits to see what will happen next. Waiting to see if his best friend will toss him overboard for the sharks to tear him to shreds, or waiting for the acceptance that it’s okay to date his daughter.

   It’s like the world stops spinning, the only noise is the bated breath he’s holding while he watches his best friend flip the gifted necklace back and forth repeatedly in his palm. The silence is torture.

   Finally, George looks back up and sighs before licking his bottom lip and muttering. “Here, take it.” He holds the necklace by the clasp and jangles it in front of him, edging on Joel to take it.

   Joel stares at the gleaming key, reading Miller’s Girl in silver letters, the one that belongs to his girl. And when he hesitates, George shoves out his arm again, letting the necklace toss and turn in his grasp. “Take it,” he repeats, a little softer this time. 

   He walks forward, scuffing his shiny boots against the pavement and stops in front of his best friend, till the key is safely back in Joel’s grasp. He looks up slowly and sees George’s eyes almost tear up, but they still hold some faint hesitation in those uncertain irises.

   “Look, it’s gonna take me a while to be okay with this. You’re gonna have to give me a little space to process this, but I… I give you permission to date her because… because I trust you more than any of those other clowns she’s dated. And you lookout for her, especially when I’m not around, and you obviously care a lot. And sounds like you love her a lot. So… if this ever leads to more than just moving in together and dating then… just ask me next time, but I think I’ll be okay with it.”

   Joel’s eyes go wide at the words, and before he knows it he has his arms wrapped tightly around his best friend’s back in pure shock. George pounds a strong hand on Joel’s back and mumbles under his breath that that’s enough. Claire gives him a gentle smile and watches the two friends make up in peace.

   “Thank you, George. For trustin’ me with your daughter.”

   George shoos him away and grits his teeth together into a pressed smile. “Yeah, yeah. Jus’ go talk to your girl, Joel. Let the old man have some space for a few minutes. I need a drink,” he sighs as he heads back inside for a cold beer in the fridge.

   Joel nods to Claire and then makes a beeline for the front door, knowing you're sitting out there in the cold with tears streaming down your beautiful face. He has to fix it.

   The sunset slowly slipping under the grey clouds doesn’t help your mood as another tear escapes down your cheek, falling to the ground with a splash as you hug your knees tighter to your chest while you lean against the front porch railing. You always knew your father wouldn’t approve, and now he’s ruined your most favorite thing in this world.

   You almost miss the large figure that stands behind you until he’s kneeling down and wrapping his arms tightly around you like a warm blanket that drapes over your skin. His usual coffee scent and strong cologne showers you in a still calmness that only he brings you, and suddenly you feel like you’re home. 

   “Joel,” you sniffle into his warm chest, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck while his big hands run up and down your back in soothing motions.

   “‘S’alright, sweetheart. You’re okay now. I’ve got you.” His gentle tone surrounds you in a cloud of comfort, and you suddenly feel warm and light for the first time since your parents saw the two of you kiss.

   “But they… my dad…” You can’t even speak clearly. Your words are all warped and clipped each time you think of how angry your dad was, how violently he ripped into your heart when all you were trying to do was tell him how much Joel meant to you. It was a disaster that was waiting to happen, and you let it.

   “Hey, look at me.” He tips your chin up and brushes the next tear away that clashes against your eyelashes. “Everything’s okay now. We’re okay.”

   You look at him with confusion swirling in your irises as your fingers clasps around his fuzzy flannel you love to wear so much. “We’re okay?” you whisper out in a daze.

   “Mhm,” he nods as a warm smile slips over his plush mouth. He digs into the pocket of his jeans and grasps the silver chain in his palm. Your necklace. 

   “Think this belongs to you.” Joel opens his palm and reveals the silver key that has your name written all over it. The key that promises for a future together, your future. A life with him in it, a step before a lifetime together.

   “Joel… he gave it back?” You gawk as your finger brushes against the metal, clasping your hand over his so you can feel the promise of forever in the warmth of his calloused palm.

   “Mhm. It belongs to you.” He pushes it into your open palm and closes your fingers over the cold silver, letting his hand linger over yours as his warm breath invades your space.

   You take a moment to register what this means, what this might promise. Did this mean your dad… Your eyes flick to his with agility, and your lips part as you exhale a long breath. “Does this mean... Did my dad…”

   A smile curls against his mouth and he nods. “‘S’alright now. After I talked to him, after I explained myself, he listened. He’s okay with us, darlin’. Well, as good as he’ll be right now. Might take some time to mend our friendship back to how it was, but s’okay. We’re gonna be jus’ fine. And you and me? We’re gonna be more than fine.”

   You throw your arms around Joel’s neck and sink your lips against his, letting his cinnamon taste melt into your mouth until you can taste nothing but him. He pulls you against his broad chest and strokes his calloused fingers against the back of your neck, tugging until you’re flush to him so he can ravish and serenade your mouth with the taste and feel of his warm, lush tongue. 

   It only takes minutes of heated passion until he pulls his lips from yours and rests his forehead against yours. You’re both out of breath, but you guess that’s how the two of you always are. Always giving your entire being to each other until the other is completely satisfied. But it’s not about that this time, it’s about finally being able to express your love for each other out in public. No more hiding from your parents, your friends, no one. It’s you and Joel against the world now, and there’s not anything you can’t conquer now.

   He moves your hair across one shoulder and clasps the necklace around your neck, leaving it right where it belongs now. Yours. 

   “There,” he smiles as he glides his fingers over the silver key. “Right back where it belongs. Right over your heart.”

   You take a moment to admire the syrupy eyes that flick to yours as you rake your fingers through his silvery scruff, dragging your nails slowly as he groans at the feel of you. “I love when you do that,” he murmurs as his thumb strokes your bottom lip delicately.

   “Well, get used to it because I’m about to be living with you,” you smile.

   “Mmm. I like the sound of that. You in my arms every single night? Wakin’ up to the glow of your stunning smile? Bein’ able to kiss you whenever I want, wherever I want? Yeah, I could get used to this.” His lips drag down your cheek and end on your lips softly, but then they’re gone in a flash as he traces his fingertips over the back of your hand.

   “Slow mornings with freshly brewed coffee, your lips, and me curled up in your lap? Yeah, I could get used to this, too.” Your lips find his once more, and then you’re floating off in a little bubble, to a place only you and Joel know how to get to.

   When his lips untangle from yours, he smiles and gives you those loving sweet eyes you never can seem to get enough of. “I love you, darlin’.”

   “I love you too, Joel.”

   The evening slips by in a rush. Your parents are weirdly mellow about the whole thing, but your dad still sends a couple snarls your way when he sees you and Joel holding hands. But he surprises you when he sends you off with a hug and a kiss on the cheek before you go back to Joel’s house. 

   It doesn’t take him long till Joel and him are doing fishing trips, watching football games together, and going out for beers again. And you kind of love that Joel didn’t have to lose his best friend over you. No. Joel got to keep both of you, and you couldn’t help but tear up when you saw how close they were again just a month after the whole Christmas disaster. You guess some things just fall into place like you and Joel did.

   You never expected to fall in love with your dad’s best friend, but it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to you. And now? You’re finally free to live your life with your favorite person by your side.

   You don’t know what the next year will bring or the year after, but you know Joel will be there no matter what. 

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries - Oscar Piastri (PART SEVEN)

Masterlist

Time for chapter 7! The chapter I am sure that a lot of you have waited for! Hehe! I also added a few social media elements into the chapter, which I think turned out nice! But, don't worry, it's still mostly just words <3 and I'm honestly OBSESSED with this chapter! Can’t wait for chapter 8!

↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!norris!reader ↳word count: 5K ↳chapters in this series: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, ↳chapter warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, bestfriend!reader, fluff, smut, NSFW, 18+ content (mdni!), fingering, handjob, praising, explicit sexual content!, sex, p in v, first time together

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, you both realize you might be feeling more a little more for each other than just friendship

The sun peeked through the curtains of Oscar's bedroom when you felt yourself slowly waking up, slowly opening your eyes, you realized you were still laying in Oscar's bed, without Oscar tho. He must have gotten out of bed earlier.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand next to the bed. Immediately noticing two text notifications, one from Lando and one from Oscar.

You clicked on Oscar's text and smiled as you read it. He texted you good morning, as well as saying he was downstairs to grab the both of you some coffee. It was cute, the effort he was putting into everything.

After you replied to Oscar that you just woke up, thanked him for the coffee and told him that you'd see him in a bit, you opened your text notification from your brother, immediately knowing something was up, so you start typing back to him

After your last text, you immediately opened Instagram, typing the designated username in your search bar. Once you've reached their profile, you click on the post to check the pictures from up close.

You honestly had no idea what to do now. The PR team was gonna be very very busy to fix this whole ordeal, because you either had to come up with some very devious lie to convince people that you were not the girl in question or you had to convince people that the boy in question wasn't Oscar. And to be fair, neither of them seemed like a an achievable solution.

You kept staring at the comments, reading them all. Some even more shocking than the other. Let's just say that this was not the way you expected to wake up after a night of sleeping in Oscar's childhood home.

Talking about Oscar, he just walked back into his room, confronted with your blown pupils and beet red face.

"Are you okay?" Oscar asked placing the two cups of coffee on his nightstand, before carefully sitting down on the edge of the bed, looking towards you "You're bright red, are you feeling sick?" he asked, worry lacing his tone.

You shook your head and handed Oscar your phone, showing his the post you've been staring at for the past 5 minutes.

f1gossip

liked by username1, username2 and others

f1gossip Oscar Piastri spotted making out with a mystery girl right outside a nightclub in Melbourne last Sunday👀 The girl has not been identified yet, but according to a few sources, the mystery girl might be none other than Y/n Norris (featured in the last picture), considering she was seen leaving the same nightclub as Oscar and her outfit potentially matches the one from the mystery girl👀

tagged: oscarpiastri and yourusername

view all comments

username1 EXCUSE ME

f1.content.2024 Holy fuck man, we knew that Oscar was a hot lad, but him making out looks even hotter🫠

user8290 no one can convince me that this isn't y/n😱 ↳ oscarpiastrifan81 I KNOW RIGHT ↳ username2 i don't know about you, but i kinda ship it

f1addict231 i can guarantee you, that is not Y/n Norris😂 ↳ user437 hahaha are you blind? ↳ norrisgirlie290 girl, even a blind person could recognize y/n in this

username3 Oscar dating Lando's little sister, y'all are delusional🤨

user41 no clue who she is, but i'm her now😍 ↳ username9183 for real tho, when I saw this i was like: GIRL, HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY DREAM

piastrisgirl21 I highly doubt that's her 👀🤔

"Oh fuck" he muttered, feeling a little embarrassed by the fact that the press had caught them. They would have been fine if it they limited their kissing to just inside the hotel room, since there was pretty much no media there, but both of them apparently were too drunk to realize that kissing outside of the club was everything but smart.

Oscar must admit tho, that aside from the shame he was feeling of getting caught, seeing the pictures of them also making butterflies rise in his stomach. An immediate blush creeping onto his face.

"What should we do?" you asked, sounding a little nervous.

Oscar didn't really know either, not sure at least "Well, I think we should at least call my PR manager, because I honestly have no idea what else is smart"

"What do we say to her tho?" you wondered, not really knowing how to come up with a solution that would work.

"Well, we've gotta decide if we wanna lie to her and just say that it was me with another girl" he suggested, pursing his lip a little nervous "Or we tell her the truth, and just tell her that it indeed was us. But that we were wasted and did something stupid"

Before you had the time to process your emotions and react to it, Oscar felt his phone ring. He reached inside his pocket and took out his phone "Speaking of the devil.." he began, nervously looking at his phone "What do I tell her?" he stammered, wanting to be sure that you agree with what he was going to say.

"It's okay, Osc. I'm fine with both" you replied, before quickly getting up from the bed "While you answer that phone call, I'll go to the bathroom real quick" you said, before walking towards his bathroom.

Once you were out of sight, Oscar pressed the button to accept the call, lifting the phone to his ear "Hello" he softly spoke.

"OSCAR PIASTRI, for fucks sake. Care to explain?" he heard her ask on the phone. She was agitated, that was clear and totally understandable "And don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about, because it's all over social media. And with Y/n?"

Oscar sighed, knowing that they have been stupid. Still contemplating on what he should tell her. If he should be honest or if he should come up with a lie. He continued to listen to his pr manager rambling about the fact that she expected these things from Lando, but not from him. And that they were already busy enough with Lando's way of presenting himself in public sometimes, that she didn't feel like having the same issue with Oscar too.

Oscar took a deep breath, before looking down at his lap "It's all just a big misunderstanding. The girl in the pictures with me is not Y/n. They were just coincidentally wearing similar clothing" he lied, his face feeling warm, because he absolutely hated lying "I was drunk and made a mistake, I admit that in all honesty. But the girl in the picture is not Y/n.."

"You honestly expect me to believe that? Everyone that knows Y/n, can recognize her. The tattoo on the back of her arm is showing in one of the pictures, Oscar..." she said, immediately seeing right through his lie "Any random girl would be totally fine, that would have gave me a lot less work, but Y/n of all people. This could cause a big dent in both of your public images, because this is highly unprofessional. Kissing your co-worker while you're wasted. And let's not even get started on the fact that it is your teammates younger sister"

"I'm sorry" he muttered, feeling incredibly embarrassed by the whole ordeal "We were both wasted and I don't know what came over us, okay? It was stupid, we made a mistake, but it's a little too late for that now"

"You don't have to say sorry to me, you're doing this to yourself. Please just make sure this doesn't happen again, okay? " she explained, slowly starting to calm down and starting to be a little bit more compassionate "I know that you can't choose who you're attracted to and that being drunk can make you do senseless things, but please remember that you guys both have a public image that you need to keep up. You both can't afford to damage that, just because you two can't keep your tongues out of each others throats in public"

"No worries, it won't happen again. We were wasted, it was just a one time thing" he replied, defeat lacing his tone "What should we do about these articles?" he asked her, wondering if she had an idea.

"Well, regarding the press, for now nothing. The less attention we give it, the less suspicious it seems. The media will find a way to throw you under the bus anyway" she said, pausing for a deep breath "But regarding McLaren, you both better come up with a very good explanation. Because Zak is gonna kill you both, when he finds out"

"I don't even want to think about that" he whined.

"Well me neither" she said, a small laugh leaving her lips "Now, thanks for the clear up. Take some time to let this all sink in and I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

Oscar sighed and agreed with her, apologizing again for the stupid mistake, before ending the phone call.

He threw himself down on his bed, opening his messages to text Logan, but quickly saw that he already had a text from him. Since you were gone to the toilet anyway, he felt like he had a little time to text with him.

Oscar put his phone down next to him when he saw you walking in, shooting him a small reassuring smile.

"How did it go?" you asked as you walked back into his bedroom, jumping onto his bed again, seating yourself down next to him, your back resting against the headboard.

He shifted his gaze towards you "Well, that could have gone worse" he said, quickly explaining to you what they discussed.

"Yeah, still mad at myself for letting this happen" you said, disappointment lacing your tone, trying to avoid eye contact "It shouldn't have happened"

Oscar felt a pang in his heart "Do you mean that you regret that we've kissed, or?" he asked uncertainly, afraid of your answer.

You shook your head "No, you idiot" you shot at him, immediate relief entering Oscars body "You know, that call you just had proved yet again that it's just smarter that we stay friends and don't date, it just makes things too complicated. It shouldn't have happened, but it did, nothing we can change about that" you explained to him, honesty in your voice "But the fact that it shouldn't have happened, doesn't mean that I don't feel what I feel"

"So, no I'm not regretting it at all, none of the things we did that night" you said softly, glancing back up at Oscar. "And to be truthful, I don't think I've ever had an orgasm that intense before," you admitted quietly.

Oscar felt a rush of heat, arousal stirring instantly, feeling himself getting hard already. It was almost embarrassing how easily you could affect him. Just a few words from you, and he was a mess, like a teenager all over again. He couldn't help it.

A small smirk crept onto his face, proud of himself for making you feel that way. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I love making you feel good," he admitted, unintentionally using the present tense. He hoped you wouldn't notice. It was true; if he had the chance to make you feel good again, he would in a heartbeat.

He looked down at his lap, nerves returning. "I feel the same way, by the way. Your mouth felt incredible. It's by far the best I've ever had," he confessed, feeling a bit vulnerable about being so candid. "I came so quickly, it was embarrassing. I felt like a teenager again, struggling not to blow my load within a minute."

You chuckled lightly, honestly feeling a little honored about it, turning your head to look at him. "I think it's cute, I see it as a compliment" your voice a soft whisper, trying to avoid looking at his lips. You really wanted to kiss him, but you knew you shouldn't. Those last few words being ignore a hand full of times already.

"I was actually a bit insecure beforehand. I really wanted to make you feel good but was so afraid I wouldn't be any good at it, you know?"

"You? Not good at it? It was amazing," he reassured you.

The whole conversation stirred feelings in Oscar that he had tried so hard to suppress, but it was no use. Seated with his back against the wall, he glanced down at his lap. He was fully hard now, the outline of his erection clearly visible in his shorts. Oscar quickly moved his hands over his lap, trying to cover his arousal, hoping to make it seem like he was just more comfortable that way. The pressure of his hands only enough made his dick twitch involuntarily.

You noticed the flush on his face getting more evident. You glanced down at his hands, obviously trying to hide his predicament.

"You're hard, aren't you?" you asked, gently biting your lip. Your sense of reasoning began to fade again, and you were on the verge of ignoring the words: 'we shouldn't.'

"Yeah, I'm so sorry" Oscar apologized, letting out a sigh. "It's just that talking about it, made the memories resurface again"

You scooted a bit closer to him, slowly moving your hand towards his, which were still trying to cover up his arousal. Your fingers carefully slipped under his hand, giving his hard-on a firm but gentle squeeze. "Don't hide it," you whispered.

Oscar let out a soft moan, the mere feeling of your hand on him enough to drive him wild. He moved one hand to grab onto the mattress. He hesitated, everything in him wanting this. But a voice in the back of his mind reminded him of your words, the hand that was still covering yours gently squeezed your hand, before moving it upwards, his fingers carefully wrapping around your wrist, trying to pull your hand away from his member.

"Y/n, we shouldn't," he said, much against his own desires, wanting to respect the boundary you had set. One that he knew you were probably only ignoring in the heat of the moment.

"Shouldn't we, or don't you want to?" you asked, using your other hand to remove his fingers from your wrist one by one, before placing it onto his abdomen, your hand slowly making its way back down where he needed it most, palming him through his shorts. He moaned at the feeling, squeezing the bedsheets tighter with his free hand. "I know you want to, Osc."

"I don't want you to regret this, baby," he whispered, putting his own needs aside, focusing on your feelings instead.

You turned onto your side a little, moving your lips close to his neck, before pressing a soft kiss against his skin. A small smirk formed on your face when you saw the little goosebumps appear on his neck, a soft whimper escaping his lips when you palmed him with a bit more pressure.

"I would never regret pleasing you, Osc," you said, your lips now next to his ear. "How could I regret being intimate with you? Look at you, you're so hot. And the sounds you make when I please you... God, you make the hottest sounds. It makes me so wet, Osc."

"F-fuck..." Oscar let out a loud moan, clasping his hand over his mouth to prevent the others in the house from hearing him. He felt his dick twitch inside his shorts, involuntarily bucking his hips against your hand. Your words alone almost made him cum right then and there.

"Just have a little fun with me, Osc. No strings attached, okay?" you suggested, your lips traveling back down to his neck, peppering it with seductive kisses.

You had found his weak spot, the thing that made Oscar lose his mind. The thing that made his self-control crumble to pieces. He caved, giving in to his strongest desires.

Without a word, he shifted his position, now sitting on his knees in front of you. His hands slid to the back of your thighs, gripping them firmly as he pulled you further down the bed, until your were laying down completely. You lay back, your heart racing, anticipation building as he climbed on top of you. Oscar pinned you down, his big hand wrapping around both of your wrists, securing them above your head, while he used his other hand to cup your cheek.

"Please don't stop. It's so hot when you talk to me like that," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you flustered and desperate for more. Your arousal was evident, and Oscar noticed, feeling a surge of confidence and satisfaction. The sight of you beneath him, eager and responsive, made him feel all kinds of things—powerful, needed, and deeply connected to you in this intense moment

You looked up at him, locking eyes with his. His pupils were dilated, his desire unmistakable. The intensity of the moment made you let out a soft moan as you maintained eye contact. Oscar’s lips descended to your neck, pressing against it and sending shivers down your spine.

Deciding to heed his earlier words, you began to recount the details of the night you spent together last Sunday, confident it would only fuel his desire further. As Oscar's lips found that sweet spot on your neck, you moaned, "F-Fuck, Oscar, just like that," your voice low and sensual as your hands struggled against his grip on your wrists. "It feels so good, just like Sunday night."

"You feel incredible against me, Osc," you murmured, referring to the way his arousal pressed against you as he hovered above. Both of you still fully clothed.

Oscar groaned, his hips moving slowly against yours in a rhythmic grind, seeking more from you. He slid his hand beneath your shirt, cupping your bra-covered breast. You responded with a moan, "Yes, Osc, just like that."

Oscar's moans mingled with kisses on your neck, his breath faltering at your words. He paused, then said "Fuck, baby, you're so hot"

You let out a shaky breath, fueled with arousal "You made me feel so amazing, Osc. Your lips on my neck, your fingers filling me up—you're so hot. It felt incredible."

He moaned louder, his hand moving away from your breast to the back of your neck and into your hair, tugging slightly. "You know what I loved even more, Osc?" you asked seductively.

"Tell me, baby," he almost growled, his breath ragged, his arousal throbbing with need. His teeth grazed your neck, eliciting another moan from you.

"I loved sucking you off, Osc. You're so big, you made me feel so full" you chanted as the arousal started to pool between your legs more and more, the way he was responding to your words fueling you with desire "I loved to way you pulled on my hair when I sucked you off, baby. It made me so wet" you spoke, the nickname escaping your lips, fully intentional. Knowing that it would make him go insane.

Oscar let the moans escape his lips without holding back, feeling himself getting even more turned on than he already was. The way you talked to him made him lose control and you knew it. It was exactly what you wanted "The sounds you made when I had my lips wrapped around you, god. It was so hot. The way you moaned out my name when you came, god, it made me come untouched" you said, knowing that he was about the snap any moment.

Oscar couldn't hold back any longer and crashed his lips against yours, capturing you in a passionate and lustful kiss. His lips moved in perfect harmony with yours, his tongue licking your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you gladly granted. The kiss deepened, growing hotter and more intense. Your tongues intertwined, exploring each other with fervent desire.

Oscar released your wrists, and your hands immediately traveled to his neck, one of them diving into his hair and pulling gently. He moaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you and making your desire spike. His hands roamed your body, fingers trailing over your curves, squeezing your waist, and sliding up your sides. His touch was everywhere, igniting your skin with every caress.

You broke the kiss for a moment to catch your breath, both of you panting heavily. "Can I take this off?" Oscar asked, his voice husky as he tugged at the hem of your shirt. You nodded, and he quickly pulled it over your head, tossing it aside. Not wasting any time, you tugged his shirt off as well, your hands exploring the newly exposed skin of his chest and shoulders.

Oscar's hands moved to the waistband of your shorts, and with a questioning glance, he asked for permission. You nodded again, breathless with anticipation. He slid your shorts down, and then removed his own, leaving both of you in your underwear.

Hovering over you once more, Oscar ground his hips against yours, the friction sending waves of pleasure through both of you. He lifted his hips a little, to allow him to slip his hand between your legs, fingers teasing you through the fabric of your panties. You moaned, your back arching in response to his touch.

"Oscar, please," you whispered, your voice filled with need.

"Anything for you," he murmured back, his lips finding yours again in another searing kiss. His fingers slid beneath your panties, and you gasped at the intimate contact, the heat between you both growing unbearable "Fuck, you're so wet for me already"

"Yes, Osc, all for you," you panted, the tension between your legs quickly building as Oscar worked your clit in perfect circles. "Your fingers feel like magic, Osc."

"Yeah?" he asked breathlessly, his voice thick with desire. "You like that, baby? You like my hands on you?"

"God, yes," you moaned, your hips bucking against his hand. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Oscar's lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot and heavy. "I won't, baby. I love making you feel good."

As his fingers continued their expert movements, your hand slid down to palm him through his boxers. Oscar groaned, his hips pushing into your hand. "Fuck, that feels amazing," he whispered, his voice strained with pleasure.

"Just like that, Osc," you encouraged, your voice a mixture of moans and gasps. "Keep touching me, don't stop."

His fingers sped up, the pressure and rhythm driving you closer to the edge. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck. "So perfect. I want to feel you come on my fingers."

"Fuck, Osc," you cried out, your body trembling as the tension inside you coiled tighter. "I'm so close, please."

"I've got you, baby," he assured, his voice soothing yet filled with lust. "Come for me. Let go, just for me."

With a few more skillful strokes, your climax hit hard, waves of pleasure crashing through you. "God.. Oscar!" you moaned out, your body arching as you rode out the intense orgasm. Your hand tightened on him, and he moaned in response, his own arousal evident.

"That's it, baby," he praised, his fingers slowing but still working you through your release. "You're so beautiful when you come."

As the last tremors of pleasure faded, you collapsed back onto the bed, breathing heavily. Oscar pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them clean, his eyes locked onto yours. "You taste amazing," he said, his voice rough with desire.

You reached up, pulling him into a deep, hungry kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. "Your turn," you whispered.

Your hand slipped beneath his boxers, wrapping around his hardness, and you began to stroke him with slow, deliberate movements. Oscar groaned, his hips thrusting into your hand as he buried his face in your neck. "Fuck, that feels so good," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You increased the pace, your hand moving with more urgency as you felt him getting closer. "Oscar," you whispered, your voice dripping with seduction, "I love making you feel this good."

He moaned loudly, his hips bucking involuntarily. "God, the way you touch me," he groaned, his voice filled with awe. "You're so good at this. It feels incredible."

You smiled against his neck, enjoying the power you had over him. Your hand moved faster, your grip tightening slightly. "Tell me, Osc," you coaxed, "Tell me how much you love it."

His breaths came in ragged gasps, his hips moving in sync with your strokes. "I love it so much," he panted, his voice trembling. "Your hand on me... it's better than any fantasy. Better than anything I could ever imagine."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, a clear sign he was edging closer to his release. "Oscar," you whispered again, this time with a hint of praise, "You're doing so well. I love how hard you are for me."

His entire body tensed, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back. "Fuck, you're amazing," he managed to say, his voice thick with desire. "I can feel it... I'm so close."

Sensing his imminent release, you adjusted your technique, moving your hand faster inside his boxers and applying firmer pressure. Each stroke elicited a deep moan from Oscar, his control slipping with every passing second. "God, yes," he groaned, his voice desperate. "Just like that... don't stop."

You could feel his cock pulsing, his release building rapidly. "I'm so close," he panted, his voice tight with need. "I'm gonna come."

You paused your movements, your hand stilling as you looked into his eyes. "Not yet," you said softly. "I want to feel you come inside of me."

The words caught him off guard, and he moaned, his arousal spiking. "God, you have no idea how much I want that," he said, his voice filled with longing. "But I don't have any condoms here”

"I'm on birth control," you replied, your voice steady. "And I'm clean. If you're okay with it, I am too."

Oscar's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and desire. "You’re sure?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Yes, Oscar," you assured him, pulling him into another deep kiss.

After you pulled away from the kiss, Oscar looked at you again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you really sure you want to do this?" he asked softly. "As much as I want to, I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. Our first time means a lot to me, and I don't want you to regret it afterward. I want it to be perfect for you."

You smiled warmly, your heart swelling with affection. "I want this. I want you," you said, your voice filled with certainty. "You mean a lot to me, Oscar. You have nothing to worry about. It's you, and that's what makes it perfect."

Oscar’s eyes softened with a mix of love and relief. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss "I want this so bad," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "And I need you so much."

With those words, he leaned in, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss, his hands exploring your body with renewed intensity. You felt a shiver of anticipation as he moved, both of you ready to take the next step together. The statement of how you shouldn't be doing this, long forgotten.

As you kissed, your hands moved to his boxers, helping him slide them off. He did the same for your panties, both of you eagerly discarding the last barriers between you. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes raking over your body. "You’re so beautiful," he said, his voice filled with awe. "Every part of you."

"And you’re so hot," you responded, your eyes trailing over his toned body. "I love your chest, your arms, your abs... everything about you." your fingers trailing over every part as you names them.

Oscar began to position himself at your entrance, his gaze locked with yours as his tip teases your entrance. You moaned softly, your body aching for him. Slowly, he pushed inside, filling you completely. The sensation of him stretching you, the heat of his skin against yours—it was more than you had ever imagined.

"God, you feel amazing," Oscar whispered, his voice a mix of awe and desire. "So perfect."

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, each thrust driving you both closer to the edge. The sensation of him inside you, the sound of his breath mingling with yours, created a symphony of passion that enveloped you both. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“You’re so amazing,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. “I’ve dreamed of this moment more than I'd like to admit, but now that it’s real, it’s even better.”

You blushed, your heart racing with excitement, your hands exploring his back. “You feel so good, Osc. Everything about you is just perfect.”

He paused, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, as he halted his movements, biting his bottom lip. Closing his eyes to avoid eye contact, because he was sure that he would have blowed his load the second he looked into your eyes.

You looked at him with a playful smile. “What’s going on?” you asked softly.

“I need to slow down a little,” he confessed, his cheeks flushing slightly, a hint of embarrassment in his voice as he said “Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll finish too quickly. And I really don’t want this moment to end yet.”

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. “To be fair, I find that kind of hot,” you said with a teasing grin. “It just shows how much you want this.”

Oscar’s face lit up with a mix of relief and pleasure. “God, you really know how to make me feel good,” he said, his voice dripping with desire.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Oscar pulled out of you completely, just for him to thrust himself back inside you right after. The sensation overwhelming you, causing you to moan out loudly.

As the intensity built, Oscar’s movements quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent. You could feel the pressure building within you, your body responding eagerly to each powerful thrust.

“I don’t think I can hold back much longer, baby,” Oscar panted, his voice strained with need.

“Then don’t,” you replied, your voice filled with determination. “Let go with me.”

He moaned, his hips bucking harder against you. The pace of his thrusts increased, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through both of you. You matched his rhythm, your body moving in sync with his as you both approached the brink of climax.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you moaned, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Me too,” Oscar grunted, his voice filled with urgency.

The pleasure surged through both of you, building to an intense peak. With a final, desperate thrust, you both moaned loudly as you reached the pinnacle of your shared ecstasy.

"God, I love you" he whispered, his orgasm causing the words to accidentally spill out in the heat of the moment. He instantly felt fear creeping upon him, afraid that he just ruined it all, unaware of what you were about to say.

“I love you too, Osc,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion as Oscar continued to thrust gently into you, making sure not to stop until you both had completely ridden out your release.

Earlier, you had spoken of ‘no strings attached,’ but your heartfelt response seemed to suggest something more profound.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Oscar collapsed against you, his breath coming in heavy, satisfied gasps. He looked into your eyes with a mixture of awe and adoration. “That was incredible,” he said, his voice filled with emotion.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “It was perfect,” you whispered, your heart full of love and satisfaction. “Thank you for making it so special.”

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

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Taglist @aceyalonso @saachiep81 @landosgirlxoxo @andruuu28 @il0vereadingstuff

[bellarkeselection]

Knew Better But Still Picked You

Gif from @alphinias

Honestly I might turn this into a small series because this is the longest request I have ever written. Let me know if you want more parts 😁. Part two. Part three

Request From @loxleys-blog could i be added to the tag list for cole and a request of best friend of jackie who comes to visit her and moves there with her family and falls for cole and cole falls for her?

The car pulled to a stop outside the big Walter ranch household and I saw the front door fling open revealing my best friend from New York running straight for me. Getting out of the car I took my bag out and opened my arms for her. “Jackie Jack!”

“Y/n. I can’t believe you’re here!” She flung her arms around me and we stumbled when we finally embraced one another.

Jackie and I had become even closer than we were before after her family’s accident. The rest of her friends wouldn’t talk to her but I chose to keep our relationship the same. So I basically took the place of her sister Lucy. “Who’s your friend, New York?” I broke away from her seeing a young guy with green eyes and honey blonde hair.

“She’s my best friend from back home, Cole.” Jackie grumbled tugging on my arm trying to get me to leave with her.

Yet I wasn’t going to not introduce myself to him especially since he was really attractive. Walking over to the guy was sitting on a horse with light blonde hair like he had. “Hey there, I’m Y/n.” Leaning my arms on the wooden fence I sent him a grin.

He dismounted his horse and climbed over the fence shaking my hand with a cheeky grin. “Cole, Cole Walter. Have you ever been on a horse before?”

“Can’t say I have.” I replied to him.

His grin only grew. “Would you want to come riding with me?”

“No. No she wouldn’t actually. Because she’s coming to have ice cream with me and my friends. So we’re gonna be going now.” Jackie came rushing forward tugging on my arm and leading me back away from him. Whipping my head around watching Cole staring at us as we went to leave. I parted my lips, finding myself wanting to talk with him more. There was something intriguing about him I just couldn’t put my finger on.

A few hours later Jackie had me meet Skylar and Tara who she had met on her first day of school. We were sitting inside the ice cream shop where I took a big bite out of my strawberry cone hearing the store bell ring. My gaze shifted to the doorway recognizing Cole came through and he waved in my direction. “OMG. That is not a good idea at all.”

“What’s wrong, Tara?” I asked, finishing the bite I had in my mouth confused.

She sent me a raised brow. “You're getting involved with Cole Walter.”

“I’m not involved with him. I just met the guy today after I came in from the airport.” I told her to eat more of my cone.

Lifting my gaze upward Cole was ordering himself his own ice cream and the woman at the counter handed it over to him. Cole glanced my way and I felt my face turn red after I waved back to him without really thinking and Jackie hit my arm in warning. “Don’t go down that road, Y/n. Cole isn’t a good guy.”

“Why not?” I asked softly.

The three of them looked between one another and Skylar was the first to say something to my question. “He’s known to have a lot of hookups and not be up for a real relationship.”

“He sneaks them out of the house. I saw one the first morning I got to the Walter house. Alex can tell you more if that’s not enough of a warning for you.” Jackie explained putting a hand on my shoulder.

Shaking my head I still didn’t see why they were so afraid for me. I didn’t know anything about the guy but he seemed nice enough. “Okay don’t shoot me for asking this but what is the big deal of getting to know him. I’m not going to hook up with him.”

“That’s what most girls think and then he woos them with his charm…” Tara trailed off.

My best friend squeezed my shoulder and I met her concerned gaze. “I just don’t want you to get hurt because of him. You’re basically my chosen sister now.”

“He’s not gonna ever be interested in me Jackie and I’m not going to be interested in him.” I reassured her and we changed the conversation to something else for the rest of the time.

A few hours later after the crazy family dinner I was laying on my side of Jackie’s bed while she was doing some extra credit homework. Staring up at the ceiling I sighed clasping my hands together on my stomach. It definitely was different from the noisy city sirens and other things. Whereas here you could only hear the wind and all the other animal noises. I heard something slide underneath the closed bedroom door where I got up from the bed seeing it was a note. Folding it open the note read “Meet me on the porch if you want to see something cool - C”

Silently reading it to myself I contemplated on going or not eyeing my best friend while she worked silently. I didn’t suppose she would see if I was gone for a little bit. “Hey Jackie Jack, I’ve gotta go to the bathroom.”

“Okay. But use mine. Don’t use the one that everybody else does. Trust me.” She warned me turning back around in her desk chair.

Getting to my feet I snatched my boots out from underneath the bed and a green hoodie without her knowing. Then I headed down the stairs as quietly as I could possibly manage since it was almost midnight and most of the house was asleep. Reaching the front door I snuck through it, closing it gently then walked to the edge of the porch not seeing Cole anywhere. “Cole!” I called out still in a quiet voice.

“Over here, Y/n.” He responded by waving a flashlight from the barn door that he had opened. Rushing down the steps I ran towards the barn meeting up with him where he lowered the flashlight when we were standing in front of each other. “Was wondering if you were actually going to show up.”

Shrugging my shoulders I admitted slightly nervous of what he had planned in the middle of the night. “Gotta be honest I’ve never snuck out in the middle of the night like this. So what do you have in mind, Colorado?”

“I wanna show you something you don’t see in fancy New York.” He drew open a horse stall and walked out the horse he was on when we first met. “This is my horse.”

Taking a step forward I brushed a hand through its mane. “He’s beautiful.”

“Glad you like him cause we’re going to ride him to the spot I want to show you.” Cole responded by brushing his hand through his horse's mane touching my hand when he finished his sentence.

Tilting my head at the Walter boy I must have misheard him. “I’m sorry we’re doing what now?”

“We’re going to ride my horse together so I can show you a special spot.” Cole said again to me shutting the door with his foot holding out his freehand to help me step up on the box that was near where his horse was standing already saddled up. “Don’t worry city girl. I won’t make you ride alone until after I’ve shown you how to ride.”

Eyeing his hand extended to me I couldn’t help but hear Jackie and the others warming to not get involved with the Cole Effect. Yet I couldn’t deny I liked the thrill of butterflies he was giving me so I gave him my hand. “Just don’t let me fall off okay.” He nodded helping me throw one leg over and once I was settled he climbed on behind me.

“Hang on tight, Y/n.” He warned me, pressing his front closely to my back, making my face turn a shade of red as he kicked his horse in the gut and we raced from the barn to the open fields in the distance.

The wind blew through our hair and I hadn’t realized but I gripped Cole’s forearm since he was the one controlling the reins. Probably knowing I might scare the horse and then we’d be in trouble. He finally tugged the reins and slowly dismounted the horse helping me down. He had his horse lay down sitting down on the ground waiting for me. “Come on, sit down.” He patted the grass beside him.

“Okay.” I agree plopping down beside him looking around at the dark woods surrounding us. “So what did you want to show me?”

Cole moved his right hand forward tilting my chin upwards towards the sky. “This is what I wanted to show ya, Y/n.”

I gasped in awe seeing the sky dancing with a million stars above our heads. Blinking through some tears I couldn’t describe what it felt like to see something this bright. “This is incredibly beautiful…” The stars were so bright and even though we had some impressive light shows in New York none would compare to this.

“It’s not the only thing that’s beautiful. You surely can’t get that view in the city.” Cole mumbled, causing me to meet his green gaze.

I paused in my next words still confused as to why he was giving me his time and attention when he was labeled as the most popular boy in this town. “Cole, why did you ask me out here tonight? Not that I don’t appreciate it. I just…I don’t entirely understand why me?”

“I ain’t good with saying how I feel so sorry if this sounds stupid….I just instantly liked you for some reason.” He declares where I didn’t say a word with our gazes focusing in on one another.

Parting my lips I whispered out. “Liked me in what way, Cole?”

“In the way where we can…do this.” Cole whispered towards me before he made my breath catch in my throat seeing him leaning forward about to kiss me.

Half of my brain was telling me to not kiss him and remember the warning and the other half was saying he would be your first kiss and I couldn’t deny that I felt something for him even though all we had done was saying hello. I finally made up my mind and closed the gap the rest of the way kissing him. He responded by scooting closer to me and threading one hand through my hair trailing it down to the side of my cheek before I broke it needling air. “Cole….don’t find this dorky of me. But that…you were my first kiss.”

“I wouldn’t judge you for that. So what are you thinking now, Y/n.” He asked me to try to read my facial expressions but I was still in shock and bliss at the same time.

Hugging my knees to my chest I admitted sheepishly with my face turning red. “Jackie isn’t gonna be happy about this. She warned me to stay away from you….I knew better but I’m still choosing you.”

“Well I’m glad cause I’m picking you too, Y/n.” He draped an arm over my shoulder and I laid my head against his chest feeling my eyes getting heavy since I was getting sleepy. His gaze dropped to mine, tucking hair from my eyes. “Don’t worry about Jackie. You’ve got to live a little in life. Now let’s get you back before you fall asleep out here.”

We rode back to the house and I struggled to stay awake after getting off his horse so he decided to just carry me back bridal style upstairs. “Cole, this isn’t my room…she’ll be mad if I sleep in your room.” I trailed off in a sleepy tone laying my head still on his chest with him laying me down on one side of his bed.

He changed into some shorts to sleep in and crawled in the bed beside me feeling me scoot over to him laying my head back in the crook of his neck like it was minutes ago. “Sssh babe. I’ll take whatever Jackie feels tomorrow morning. Just get some rest.” My eyes fell closed and he dozed off shortly after in a peaceful night of sleep.

That was until the morning came and his bedroom door was flung open and I screamed hearing my best friend bursting into his room. “Y/n, I told you to stay away from him!…Well don’t you two have anything to say?” Rubbing my eyes Cole shifted, holding himself up on his elbow staring down at me silently, neither of us giving her an answer.

Comments really appreciated ❤️ Tag list - @cognacdelights

[omamervt]

yo yo! ttrpg trick or treat!

I mean if you're gonna come at me with this I'm never gonna turn down a chance to talk about City of Mist and its spinoffs, the game I am the most normal anyone has ever been about anything. (if I understand the rules correctly, this is Treat)

ahem.

City of Mist is an urban fantasy noir RPG heavily inspired by Netflix's Daredevil TV series. It now comes in LGBT-themed Sentai flavor (Queerz!) and Cyberpunk flavor ( :Otherscape) as well, with a High Fantasy version (Legend in the Mist) in the works! It also has some pretty great community support, just look up City of Mist Garage on DriveThruRPG!

The thing this game does that makes it special to me is that player creation and advancement is almost 100% driven by character development, and it does it better than most other RPGs that I've seen that try to offer the same.

at character creation, you choose four Themes for your character. You use these themes to determine what kind of character you're working with, and what kind of skills their life experience might have given them. It's also how you can tie in fantasy elements and give yourself literal super powers.

Once you've chosen your Themes, you answer four questions about your character for each Theme. These become your Power Tags, which you use in place of stats to make your roll modifiers, as well as your Weakness Tags, which you or the MC can invoke to give you a -1 to a roll, or to add a complication to the current scene. (this also gives you an XP point in that Theme so it's worth it to you to let this happen.)

But the other thing that comes with every Theme is a Mystery or an Identity. The idea of City of Mist is that you aren't born with powers, you Awaken to them when a Mythos - an idea, concept, or character from a story - decides to enact its will through you. Examples from the pre-made characters would be Excalibur, the wealthy socialite who became the Rift of King Arthur after she finds the Ultimate Weapon, which manifests for her as a piece of jewlery that transforms into whatever she needs in the moment. But the idea of a Mythos never fully survives contact with reality, as your character is still the person they were before - someone with a life, family, friends, goals - an identity. Another of the pre-gens is Kit, a Kitsune spirit who manifested itself fully in our world, but has disguised itself as a teenage girl after falling in love with a boy. Her affections form an identity outside of her purpose as a Mythos.

You as a player have the choice between trying to live the life you had before by creating Identities for your Logos themes - things that anchor you to your life in this world - or by pursing mysteries for your Mythos themes - finding out what your Mythos expects of you, and then deciding whether or not to do it.

Progression in this is interesting because the main story will put your characters' identities in conflict with the will of their Mythos, as well as the needs of the group as a whole. As you play, you can decide that your character is ignoring their Mystery to the point that getting answers no longer truly matters to them, or abandoning their Identity to the point that they wouldn't recognize their old self anymore. The attention to the themes you advance the plot of will grant you new powers in those themes, whereas the ones you allow to fade away will eventually be replaced by new character aspects that became important in the meantime. And it happens entirely at your discretion - the MC can't tell you to mark Crack/Fade on a Theme, they can't force you to explore your characters' personal story arc, but doing so MAKES YOUR CHARACTER GROW AND CHANGE, WHICH IS HOW YOU LEVEL UP!

I could probably write a few more paragraphs about this game if anyone cared.

[cjlouwho]

I 100% agree with you that that was lazy writing. What was the point of deliberately picking someone the audience (and the 118) were familiar with to be Buck's LI when they could have picked some random. What was the point in delving into Tommy's history and his feelings, what was the point of showing him head over heels for Buck in the last ep, of getting a gift for their 6 month anniversary only to say "oh well, I figured we wouldn't last, so I'm gonna get out now before you break my heart". Why let him get that involved if Tommy's ideology was to never allow himself to move forward in the relationship because ultimately he thought it wouldn't last? It's whiplash for the audience after you saw how INVESTED Tommy was in the last ep! And how exactly is this Buck getting off the hamster wheel? This relationship has ended pretty much exactly like all his others - he gets invested, they leave! They had so much potential as a couple - seeing what it's like for two fire-fighters to date knowing they're both in risky jobs, maybe Buck having to meet/deal with Tommy's homophobic father, getting to explore a "new" character's back story instead of rehashing the same story lines from the mains as well as seeing more of how Buck deals with being in a same sex relationship. All wasted.

And since they referenced Glee, if the plan is for it to echo the Kurt/Blaine relationship in that show where they broke up so they could "explore" before getting back together, by doing so they ruined that relationship so much that by the end it wasn't satisfying that they WERE endgame - they weren't the couple we fell in love with. (And also, way to reinforce the negative stereotype of "you can't ever be long term with your first". I should let my sister, my cousin and my aunt know even though they've all been married for years to their husbands - all their first.) Even if they do decide to bring Tommy back down the line, would it even be the same relationship we fell in love with? Would we even trust the writers to stick with it and treat it well? Or if they did a final episode reunion so Buck doesn't end the series alone, how is that satisfying for the audience?

I have been watching 911 since it started, and I have always been part of the general audience up until S7 where I joined the fandom because I thought Buck/Tommy were adorable. It's the first time in years I've become invested in a couple on a show. It's the first time in years that I've dipped my toes back into a fandom. Like you, this ship inspired me to write fic again. I have a bunch of wip's waiting to be posted on ao3 and I honestly don't know if I'll finish them now. And if they have broken them up for Buddie to get together I think I'll stop watching. And not just because I never saw them as a romantic couple (I only ever saw a deep friendship) but because logistically I don't see it working. Besides the fact that I think that while they work as friends, they probably wouldn't gel as a couple, two people on the same team in a relationship? That will screw up the 118 dynamic, especially as this show looooves relationship drama. If they get in a fight, or worse, break up, then what? How would that work within the 118, unless someone transfers out, but then it's bye bye the 118 we love. And not to mention, in the only 4 months I have been in this fandom I have seen some VILE crap from the buddies, and from what I understand it they've been like that for years. And the show runners know about it, so if they go with Buddie, congratulations, you've rewarded toxic behaviour and given them a license to be worse (look at them already, going in the bucktommy tags and gloating).

I told myself after Glee ended and they royally screwed everything up that I wouldn't watch another Ryan Murphy show because he has a history of doing that sort of thing. When 911 came along I was cautious, but it looked like it would be different - more grown up if you will, especially since Ryan Murphy hasn't really been involved since season 1. I should have just gone with my gut. I just hope that, knowing these last two eps were filmed weeks before they aired, the showrunners see how popular they were and realise crap, we've made a BIG mistake. (Everyone should flood instagram and especially Facebook, whoch is more GA than most social media platforms, with RESPECTFUL comments about how devastated they are, and who knows, it might make them consider bringing Tommy back sometime in 8b - I believe they're still writing the back half of the season.)

Side note, I feel really sorry for Lou. Yeah he's going back to SWAT, and I love him in that (even though his character can be a dick sometimes) but he's said in interviews how he's tired of always being cast as "the muscle" due to his size and he seemed genuinely happy to get this role, which was exactly what he was looking for - the sweet, caring, romantic love interest role where he could show some depth, and they screwed him over (sounds like he even thought Buck and Tommy were doing well and wasn't expecting the break up until the end).

(Apologies for the long rant. But what you've been saying really resonated with me and I needed to share your sentiments.)

.

[that-one-anxious-mango]

Hi love! I hope you are feeling/doing better! I was just thinking about the Days of Our Love series. Any chance we might get an update soon? I miss it!

Oh, New York. How I Love You. (1)

Summary: Austin's best girl comes to visit him in New York to cherish the time they have together before he leaves to Australia, in what becomes a very eventful two weeks together.

Word count: 8.2k

Warning: LONG POST!

Contents: Lots of fluff. Mentions of childhood trauma. Sexual Content (Oral: Fem receiving, hand job: Male Receiving), emotional situations.

A/N: Hello beautiful humans, it has been a minute. Don't drag me please. I just always take so long because I want to always put out the best content. Would you believe me if I said this went through TWO edits. Geez! But all in all, I hope you enjoy.

PS: Everyone feel free to comment, send more letter, and reblog! Much Love *hugs* Tags: @purejasmine, @wacoshuffle , @flyestvenustrap , @louisejoy86 , @unicoreads, @incorectly

______

“ Are you seriously going to take all of that to New York with you? Why don’t you just take one suitcase and then buy some outfits to wear there, ya’ know. “ Phoebe chirped from her spot laid out across your bed while flipping through a HG magazine. 

“ I agree. Buy some cute outfits and surprise him that way. Then you’ll have room to bring back the clothes you buy for you and us.” Alex continued to play a riveting game of tug of war with Magnus on the floor.

Her last comment made a laugh erupt from you in the closet, “ Yeah nice try, buddy. I’m not bringing you heifers anything back but some damn keychains and the lasting scent of the smug and smoggy New York air on me the next time we see each other.” You yelled back. “ And plus it’s gonna be cold outside.” 

Phoebe laughed while Alex scoffed, “ UM! Excuse me ma’am, but as a friend, need I remind your ass that this was a part of the deal. Since you’re abandoning me, The Travel Buddy, to go FORNICATE with Mr. Goldilocks in New York instead of HOME with me for the Winter Wonderland Festival. You promised to bring me back something nice to add to my outfit for the Warner Bros. charity event next month.” She recalled the promise that you did in-fact make to cease her tantrum at the time. 

“ And on top of that, I’m also the one silk pressing your hair for this trip, ma’am. AND taking care of my fur nephew that you’re abandoning as well. Therefore,  I DESERVE SOMETHING.” She added. 

“ This is true.” Phoebe co-signed, continuing to flip through the pages. 

You cut your eyes at her when you entered the room again to walk a pair of shoes over to your bursting suitcase.

“ Yeah. Yeah. I’ll make sure to bring you back something for your pain and suffering. Brat.” You muttered the last part. “ AND fyi his hair is black now.” 

Alex grinned while blowing you an air kiss that you grab and pretend to smush in your hands. 

“ You know you LUHHHHH me, girl.” She teased. “ Now hurry up because I don’t have all night to do this. I don’t know why you didn’t just get braids or some passion twists put in like a normal person going on a trip .” 

“ What’s love got to do with it?” You sassed. In return you were met with a pillow to the side and giggles around the room. “ And don’t rush me! I’m almost done.” 

“ What time is Austin supposed to be coming to get you from the airport? Phoebe questioned. 

“ Noon.” You answered fighting to try and fit a scarf into your luggage. “ My flight leaves at noon and I should be there by evening. I’m not exactly sure when, I just know their three hours ahead. 

“ Okay. Cool, just make sure you let us know when you’re in the car and everything. “ Phoebe noted.

You scoff, “Like yall asses won’t be watching me on 360 anyway. Stalkers.” 

“ Hey! You should be happy that somebody cares enough to stalk your ass. People go missing everyone, B.” Alex mocked the line from Paid in Full. 

“ Yeah. I know. I do the same thing with ya’ll.” You huffed, “ Okay. I think that’s it.” 

“ Good! “ Alex jumped up, “ Now go and grab my hair bag. So we can start on this head, honey. All this dang hair.” She looked at the long blow dried mess on your head. 

“ I know damn well that is not a damn hot comb.” You deadpanned. 

“ Do you want the hair straight or not? We have heat protectant, so relax. Whenever we both get back I’ll come over and we can do a treatment to make sure your curls revert back right. I got this. Now tilt your head down..” 

Phoebe giggled watching the two of you fuss at one another, “ Yeah you better sleep pretty tonight, babes. Head on hands, silk scarf, and turn a fan on so you don’t sweat.”

“ I'm aware.” You sighed, settling into the chair and began to listen to Phoebe as she started her descent into her plans while you would be away.

“ OW! ” You jumped at the sudden sharp burning feeling on your scalp, “ Alex really.”

“ I barely touched you! It’s the steam.” She giggled at the scrunch on your face, “ Hehe. My bad.” 

______

The Next Day…

After a couple goodbyes to your fur baby and helping your driver wrestle your large suitcase into the back of the car Austin had sent for you against your wishes, you found yourself tiredly weaving about through LAX. 

You’d already pre-checked everything, so once you went through security and went to make sure your gate existed, you’d found a very overpriced coffee place and ordered a little danish and iced chai to settle the nerves.

It wasn’t until you were in a seat by the terminal happily scrolling away on your phone that you got a text message from Austin. 

Sweet Baboo: can’t wait to see you. enjoy your flight. love you. :3

Once you boarded, the flight had been fine and you’d done exactly what was predicted of you.

You’d read for a good couple of hours and then slept a good chunk of the rest of it. The flight was smooth with no delays.

When the pilot announced your descent, anticipation began to build up in your chest

Quickly you pulled out the mini mirror from your carry on bag and went to fix your minimal makeup and undid the head scarf on your head to reveal the flowy silk press that fell down your shoulders. You combed it out and fixed your little cute airport outfit in preparation to get off.

Seeing as you were in first class, against your wishes also,  you were one of the first to exit the plane. You made it to baggage claim where a nice older gentleman with a sign had begun setting your luggage up for you on a cart and offered to push it down to the terminal.

“ For Miss Y/L/N.” He’d smiled.

“ Yes, I’m her.” You nodded. 

“ Wonderful I’ll be helping you with your luggage. Compliments of a Mr. Sweet Baboo.” He told you with a grin on his face.

You stifled a part of your laugh as the two of you began walking through the airport, “ Did he really ask you to say that? “ 

He nodded, “ Yes, He did. But I don’t mind. One of the more milder things I’ve been asked to say in my time doing this job.” 

“ I can only imagine.” You laughed. 

“ Quite cold outside. But you look bundled up.” The man smiled.

“ Oh yeah. It’s the Sahara in here. I think the breeze will actually help cool me down.” 

The sharp chill of the evening wind swiped at the little exposed patches of your face as you made it to the extremely congested pick up and drop off area. It felt near impossible to try and find which car belonged to your boyfriend in the sea of what felt like a thousand black SUVs littering the street.

It wasn’t until you spotted a familiar head of slicked back raven hair stuck out one window that you recognized your boyfriend as he made his way out the car.

A squeal unintentionally left you and Austin smiled a mile wide as he opened his arms up to you, “ There’s my girl.” He laughed, catching your body that was flung into him. “ Hey there. Mr. Sweet Baboo.” You giggled into his neck, placing a kiss there.

He’d taken his time unlatching you from him until he offered to quickly help the man load the trunk since he’d spotted what he believed to be the shine of a camera in the distance. 

You didn’t have time to breathe once you both were inside and the door shut. The partition was already rolled up and once the car started to move, and so did Austin’s lips against yours. Your body had suddenly felt like it was on fire with a flame that only he could put out. 

Your hands were attached to his face while his own were free to roam the parts of your body he’d missed in his absence. 

A small moan escaped you at the sensation of his hand kneading your thigh under his touch and pulling you further into him to the point of being in his lap now. 

“ Fuck, I missed you, Baby.” He groaned.

“ Not as much as I missed you.” You mumbled in-between kisses, hands feverishly grabbing at anything on his body that would keep him tethered to you. 

He smiled into your lips, “ Is that a challenge? Because believe me, before this car even hits the main streets I can prove that I missed you most.” He whispers, hand sliding to rest just under your abdomen. Your breath hitches and the most indecent thoughts begin to pool around in your brain. 

You giggled feeling his fingers sliding up your cardigan, “ Okay..okay..okay. I believe you.” 

“ I can’t wait to get you home, all to myself.” His words came out muffled, but had all the same effect as you found yourself pacing your breath and clenching your legs together. 

“ You look cold, sweetheart. Let me warm you up.” 

The ride had been agonizingly long with Austin teasing you every chance you got. 

When the two of you arrived at Austin’s brownstone, your eyes couldn’t register just how beautiful it looked from the outside. Almost like something you’d see in movies like Autumn in New York or Maid in Manhattan. 

“ Aus it’s beautiful.” You mumbled out taking in the glistening snow that littered the cement steps beyond the black steel gate.

“ Thank you. Can’t wait to get you inside of it.” He smiled, pecking your lips before getting out.

To your protests, he’d gotten all of your bags himself and took them inside as you huffed and whined, “ I wanna help! It’s my stuff. Aus! It’s too cold for you to be out here doing this by yourself.” 

“ Nope. Just get your cute ass in the house. ” You rolled your eyes at his smug grin.

The minute you stepped inside the foyer of the home Austin had literally swept you off your feet, dipping his face into your neck to administer kisses. 

You laugh and thrash in his arms the entire way to his gorgeous couch, ridding yourselves of your coats. 

“ So, first, “  He plopped down next to you, instantly reaching his arms out to pull your body into his lap. “ Are you hungry? I know you didn’t eat on the plane. And before we do anything else I wanna get you fed if need be.” 

“ No, not really. “ You leaned back against him, “ I think I’m just hyped up on the adrenaline of getting to see you.”

“ Yeah me too.” A finger traced along your neck just where your hair fell past, , “ Damn. Look at your hair. I knew it was long, but I’ve never seen it like this. It’s beautiful.” 

“ Thanks. I wanted something a little more manageable since our itinerary is a bit packed. It’s not big and unruly like usual.” You played with your ends. 

“ Stop it.” He scolded, “  Big? Yes. Unruly? No. I love your hair in its natural state babe. It’s cute. I love watching you take care of it. It reminds me to stay up on my shit.” 

“ Yeah, no 2 in 1 conditioner for you buddy.” You reached to pick at one of his dark locks close to his ear. It was still taking some getting used to. 

“ Hey.” He turned to nip at your hand, “ There wasn’t any 2 in 1 shampoo before you and there damn sure won’t be any now that I’ve been exposed to the good life.”

And a good life it was! You’d exposed Austin to all the skin care, shea butter, oil pulling, essential oils and everything else needed and now mysteriously you had products coming up empty all the time.

“ I know babe I’m just teasing. Excited for this weekend with you.” 

“ So am I. Gonna’ feel good spending time with my girl. Kinda miss my little buddy though. “

“ I know me too.” You pout, “ But I promise you he’s living his best life with his Aunt Alex. He’s already had a pup cup, two treats, and last I knew was taking a nap in her office on a pile of heated blankets.” 

“ You’re going home to a diva, baby.” He smirked, imagining the little dog buried in blankets fast asleep. “ So, back to this itinerary that was mentioned.” 

“ Yes! It goes by day to optimize experiences and time.“ You pronounced proudly, bouncing on the couch.

“ Really? “ 

“ Truly. I wanna make the most of our time together.” You replied. 

“ Okay, do tell. “ His eyebrows raised in amusement, “ What’s on today? “

“ Today’s agenda is light because it’s the first day and I already knew I’d be tired. So the only two major things on the list are having dinner with my Sweet Baboo and unpacking.” 

“ Nice! And we can make all that happen. Let’s take a look at the other days.” 

And you did, together you examined the well planned and thought out itinerary in front of you.

He nodded , “ Looks good. We may have to make a couple of adjustments if that’s okay with you. I have some surprises in store.” 

“ Ouuu! What?! Tell me.” You practically bounced in his lap. 

He smiled, “ If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise then, would it.”

“ Not even a hint.” You whine, slightly puckering your lips, and playfully batting your mascaraed eyelashes. 

“ No. Nuh uh. Not gonna happen. But you’re cute though, baby.” He pecked your lips.

You groan, “ Fine! On second thought I am hungry. Feed me seymour.” You goofed trying to imitate the rich voice of Levi Stubbs. 

The lines of his lips curl, “ C’’mon then Audrey II. You can keep me company while I start dinner.” 

And you did just that perched on a chair at the island while the two of you made small talk.

“ That can’t be all.” He softly laughed, “ I haven’t seen you and I wanna really know how my girl is doing? Tell me. I know there's something.”

“ I mean there really isn’t much to tell, baby. I told you. It’s just been work..writing…Magnus..and missing you.”

“ How about that lease? “ Austin said, rolling out the dough in front of you.

Your shoulders tensed, “ What about it?” 

“ You talk to your building manager about whether you're renewing or not this spring, yet? ” He inquired about your plans for your apartment, which was really his not so subtle way of asking if you’d thought anymore about his offer to move in with him after Elvis was estimated to wrap this summer.

Although you and Austin had been together for almost six months at this point, you weren’t exactly sure if you were completely ready for that kind of commitment yet. Granted when the projected time of wrapping would come around the two of you would be coming up on a year, you still had some things holding you back about the whole ordeal.

“ It’s on the to - do - list…” You stretched, “One of the many adult things to eventually be handled.” 

“ Uh huh. I see. “ He mused,” Well like I said before. I wouldn’t mind coming home to you and Magnus every night. And when I’m home you're either always at my place or vice versa. In my eyes it would just make sense.” Austin explained. 

Your hands fidget with the brown place mat in front of you, “ I hear you and I understand, babe. And I promise I’m really taking all of this into heavy consideration. “ You settled. 

“ Good, I can live with that. Now get up, come over here and help me by cutting the sheath on these asparagus.” Austin instructed, while heating up his rosemary and pepper butter mix in his skillet.

Your eyes widened at the opportunity to help, while you could cook you were unashamed to say that you had hard limitations of what you could and couldn’t make. Whereas Austin on the other-hand was practically a chef with the way he could make his assortment of dishes. Which in turn made him the primary cook of the relationship while you were always happy to be captain of the clean up crew. 

“ Oh yay. I get to help.” You hopped up, “ And you're going to let me use a knife! Sick! “ 

Now becoming skeptical, Austin cocked his head rethinking his offer of a sous chef position, “ On second thought maybe you should stick to being my honorary taste tester. Quite good at that job, peaches.” 

“ Nope. I’m helping. “ You rolled up your sleeves, “ Now prepare to see some clean beautifully mutilated asparagus, babe. “ 

“ Jesus.” Austin groaned, placing the steaks in the sizzling pan.

______

Your dinner of sirloin, seared asparagus, garlic and herb mash potatoes, and bread you couldn’t pronounce right was absolutely splendid. 

And now being presented in-front of you was just the dessert to top the night off: A thick and nice slice of strawberry drizzled NY cheesecake.

Favorite of yours.

As you began to indulge in your sweet treat you teased yourself by wondering if there was any way the night could possibly get better. 

Then it hit you…you could knock one of your tomorrow's itenary items off tonight without any worry.

So, yes. It definitely could. 

“ You know what would be really good, right now.” You mused aloud at the island. 

Still turned Austin asked, “ And what would that be, sweetheart? “ He continued loading the dishwasher. 

“ A nice hot relaxing bath. “ 

“ Uh huh.“ He sounded

Grabbing the towel off the stove handle, Austin walked over to the island to lean in. 

“ Okay. “ He simply said, “ Your wish is my command.” 

“ Really? “ You nervously scraped your fork against your plate.

“ Of course. This trip  is all about you. So, if the best girl wants to end the evening with a bath. Then it’s my job to make it happen.” He washed his hands. 

“ Just stay here and finish your dessert. And then come up. Alright? “ He instructed, coming around to stand in front of you, taking your face into his face.

“ Okay. “ You nodded.

He returned the gesture and placed a chaste kiss to your forehead on his way out before heading upstairs. 

You could hear the faint sounds of water running as you struggled to calm your weirdly nervous stomach and finish your dessert. 

By the time you made it up stairs and into the bathroom the lights were dimmed and  the aroma of jasmine bath salts and vanilla bubble bath filled your senses.

You weren’t spooked when you felt him appear behind you. 

“ Let me take this off of you.” His fingers danced along the curves of your side as his hands moved along to lift your shirt over your head. 

You sucked in tiny breaths the rest of the time he took to undress you. Ever so often you’d catch his eyes and smile, turning away to blush.

Once you were as naked as the day you were born, he gently helped you step into the creme claw foot tub.

“ You wanna get in? “ You sheepishly grinned.   “ Plenty of room.” Kicking up your feet over the side to expose the suds and bubbles that dripped down your legs.

Knowing that he’d already restrained himself while helping you undress, Austin wasn’t too sure he’d be able to handle any accidental slips of the hand or touching by any means without immediately yanking you out the bath and into the bedroom for some extremely intentional touching of his own to you.

“ No, I’m okay. This is about you. So, enjoy your bath, babe.” He smiled leaning over to grab at the loofa.

, “ Stop it. You’re fine.” Austin playfully scolded, watching the pout spread on your face.

“ If you want we can both sit on opposite sides. “ You offered just as a lightbulb went off in your brain, “ OH! Or you could lay with your back against my chest and my arms around you like Vivan and Edward in Pretty Woman. I’ve actually always wanted to do that.” You confessed your little fantasy. 

“ Plus. You did say this weekend was about me.” You moved to place your hands on the tub and rest your head on them, “ And what I want right now is for you to come in here with me. Now,“ 

Austin’s cheeks warmed in affection and amusement as he watched a twinkle appear in your eye at the idea of getting to live out another one of your little rom-com fantasies. And how you’d suddenly gotten a bit bold in your request. 

He sat there for a moment contemplating when ultimately he decided who would he be if he couldn’t be the person to fulfill your fantasies and desires. 

He blew out air, “ Fine. I’ll be the Edward to your Vivan, babe. But just know the accidental touching and moving needs to be kept to a minimum. “ You watched as he stood up to pull his shirt above his head and shimmy his pants. “ I mean it. I am a man of virtue after all, honey. A delicate flower you could say. So, I expect to be treated as such.” He teased.

You didn’t have a smart remark to quip back at him because your mind and eyes had both been polluted with the images of him bare before you in all his glory.

Instead you mustered a playful cat call, “ Yeah take it off! Look at those cheeks! “ 

All Austin could do was smile and shake his head as he walked over and maneuvered himself to get in and sink in between your legs. Your arms found a home around his shoulders and your lips made quick work of placing innocent enough kisses to his skin in places you knew may be less…inflammatory than others.

And you could tell by the low and almost soulful groan Austin let out once he was fully  submerged in the calm of the warm water that this was something he needed too. “ Feels good..” He mumbled letting his head back to rest in the valley of your naked breasts. 

“ Good.” You replied, as you too were enjoying the warm intimacy of the atmosphere. 

“ We don’t do this enough at home.” Austin sounded as you used the soft silicone loofah to scrub and wash his chest.

“ What? “

“ Relaxing…soaking like this.” He rubbed at your knee that was exposed out of the water. 

 “ I agree.” 

“ So..” He squeezed the sponge he’d grabbed and dipped into the water on your back, “ You excited for tomorrow? “

You nodded, “ I am. I’ve visited here once on a family trip and another time for a work thing. But I’ve always felt like I’ve never gotten the true experience. And since Aunt Kiki lives here now I’ve been wanting to visit her. But of course she’s away on a work trip this time of year.”

“ Mhmm.” A hum can from Austin as you move your hand lower.

“ Watch yourself.” Austin mumbled, grabbing that hand to interlock it with his. 

And you did, you made it a point to keep your hands clear of the southern equator of your man. That was until you felt him let guard with a sigh and push back into you. 

This was the moment you took your opportunity.

A breath hitched, “ Y/N…what are you doing? I thought I made it very clear the stipulations of this arrangement. “ 

You crane your head down to rest your lips just above the shell of his ear as your hand continues to move toward its desired destination. 

He tensed against you when you went to lightly grip at his now half-hard cock in your hand. You moved it up and down a bit before stopping and using the pad of your thumb to quickly run across his tip.

Involuntarily Austin lets out a small hiss at the sensation, “ Alright, that’s enough of that. “ He hand comes to try and halt yours. But you use your leg to stop him.

Instead you ignored him, keeping your attention focused on guiding your hand to stroke him up and down. The water of the tub has begun to sway from the movement, “ I’m not done.” You whispered in his ear.  “ You said this weekend was about making me feel good.” 

Your tongue darts out to lick and bite at his ear,  “ You wanna know what would make me good? 

“ Yes.” His answer sounded strained against his voice. By now he’d ever so slightly begun to move his hips upward into your hand, beginning to get lost in the sensation of his touch.

“ What would make me good right now is for you to be a good boyfriend and cum all over my hand for me.” You say, mindful to increase the pace of your hand. “ Please can I have it, baby. Will you give it to me? Will you give your cum, baby? “ 

“ Oh fuck.” Austin’s head dives back against your breast and his eyes are tightly shut as his  body begins to become overwhelmed with pleasure. Your words doing something to him, of course he’d heard you be verbal during exchanges, but never like this. “ I’ll give you anything you want.” He groaned. 

“ That good, Aus? “ You used your free hand to come from its place on his chest, to grip at his chin and guide his head to loll to the side. It gives you access to attach your lips to his in what could only be described as a sloppy exchange of love. You swallowed his grunts and groans in your throat while he allowed your soft whimpers to enclose his lips. 

By now the water of the tub began to slosh with bits beginning to fly out of the tub and onto the floor from the impact of Austin’s hips coming to meet the pace of your hand.

He reluctantly forced his mouth away from yours, saliva collected on his cheeks. “ Fuck, just like that. Baby you’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing this.” 

“ Yeah? That’s what I want, baby. Give it to me, Aus. Show me how much you missed my touch, baby.” You moaned dipping your head to suck on skin you’d long ago identified on his neck to be his “ sweet spot.”

With that he couldn’t contain himself anymore and you watched as his face contorted into a beautiful display of pleasure and angst,  his eyelashes fluttered as he shot his thick ropes of cum in your hand. You keep stroking him through it until a hand shoots out to stop you. This time it succeeded as you ceased your movement, and watched his chest heave up and down.

Your hand rubs at his shoulder to help ground him and bring him back to you.

After a couple of minutes with a huff he speaks, “ Was this your plan all along? To get me in this position, baby. So you could use me this way, as your play thing?  “ He accuses. 

“ Guilty.” You whispered, thinking about how this all was in-fact a long game in getting him here. You knew had it been in the bedroom or anywhere else he would have undermined your advances and made your own pleasure the main focus as usual. But you figured that if you could essentially “ trap him “ into a smaller more controlled environment where you could take the reins a bit, you could finally have a moment to adore your boyfriend the way he always makes sure to adore you. 

“ What am I gonna do with you?” He groans and you smile, placing a kiss on his head. 

Eventually with no more funny business involved, you both take turns cleaning each other off before he gets out and wraps a towel around his waist. And then comes back for you, plucking your wet body out of the water. 

Routines are done and pajamas are thrown on quickly before he ushers you both to lay in the big king size bed. 

You relish the opportunity to sleep in his arms after so long. It seemed like it’d been a day and forever. When really it’d been about five and a half weeks. 

“ Quite the little show you put on there in the bathroom.” He whispered.

“ What can I say, I missed seeing the faces you make like that in person. All those facetime calls just don’t do those flushed cheeks or sweet strangled moans justice,baby. Needed to see it.” You shot back, and went to lightly play at the dip in his shoulder.

“ I see we’ve grown quite bold in my absence.” He muttered, trailing his eyes to your thigh that peaked out from the slightly raised shirt.

 “ So what about me? When do I get my own personal refresher of your moans and the way your body arches off the bed when I use my fingers to touch your spot? “ 

At his words, you could feel your heartbeat begin to race and the all too familiar aching and yearning you’d been feeling throughout your body return.

“ I don’t know. I haven’t felt like that in a while. I’m not as good as you with my hands, baby. “ You casually say.

“ Well. I don’t particularly plan on using my hands tonight. I’ve got a bit of a different approach since we’re so eager to try out new things. “ He said.

And then he said something that knocked the wind out of your chest.

“ Instead I want you to come and sit that pretty pussy on my face.” 

It would take you many moments and labored breaths of shock before you mustered up your bewildered response, “ You want me to what?! “ 

“ You heard me.” Austin laughed from underneath you. You were straddling his lap while he lay flat on the bed and you were pretty sure that maybe he wasn’t getting enough oxygen down there as it was.

“ Aus. You can’t be serious. I-I’m not a Polly Pocket sized girly, babe. I have a nice amount of meat on these here bones.” You countered, “ I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“ What? You don’t think I can handle you? Is that it? “ His voice purred, fingers dancing up along the curve of your spine. 

“ Of course not! “ You clarified, “ It’s just that…that.” You huffed trying to gather the right words together.  “ I want you to be able to breathe , babe. HOW WILL YOU BREATHE?! “ 

You watched his face turn in amusement at your flustered state, “ Don’t you worry about that, babe. I’m a big boy. I’ll figure it out. And if not…. when they find me you tell them I died happy and stuffed in-between the sweetest place on earth.” He said, immediately you felt your cheeks flush, “ These thighs.”

“ AUS! “ You softly slapped at his chest, “ Be serious.” 

He laughed ,“ I am. They’ll find me with a permanent glistening smile.” 

You groaned trying to shimmy off of him but his hands at your sides stopped you. “ Uh huh. From when good ole’ Rick and Mortis set in.” 

“ I’m not asking again, darling. “ You yelped when he grabbed your thighs and moved you further up his chest, close to your neck, “ Get up here.” 

“ But Aus I- “ You cut yourself off with moan when you felt his hand come to fondle at your breast. 

“ What was that? I’m sorry I may not have caught that.”

“ I-w-well-” 

He had your virgin ass absolutely flustered. 

“ Take em’ off. I want em’ off of you.” He mumbled,scooting you further and tugging at your night shorts. 

Obliging, you somehow managed to rid yourself of your shorts and his shirt. At that moment it took all the courage not to fold right there. 

You leaned forward against the pretty dark wood headboard to grip at its edges in a fair attempt at stabilizing yourself in your squat. 

The plan had been to lower yourself down nice and slow, but leave it to your boyfriend to be an absolutely impatient brat to knock the wind out of you by slamming you down against his face. 

You went to make a remark of protest but soon found that the second his tongue touched you, you’d been left unable to form long coherent sentences. A simple moan of, “ Austin!” Was all that was mustered. 

He groans as he begins to eagerly lap and lick at your drenched pussy. The vibration alone makes you tighten your grip. 

Using his hands he bares down pressing you further into him as you cry out from this new intense feeling. He's calculated with how he uses his tongue to tease the entrance of your opening before gliding it back to suckle at your poor throbbing clit. 

The more and more sucks, the more your juices uncontrollably leak from you, until now the sounds of lewd slurping and your moans come together to echo off the walls. 

“  That feels so good.” You mewl, unable to control how you begin to grind your pussy against his face. 

He lifts up a little bit to mumble, “ Yeah? Am I making this pussy cry with my tongue? She talking to me, honey?” He sends a long lick up your slit making you jump. 

“ Yes! Your tongue is so good, baby. It feels so good.” You cried out. 

You could practically feel him smile into your pussy when he closed the gap, obviously satisfied with desensitizing you this way. 

From there he really started to lay into you, when he laid his tongue completely flat on your clit you couldn’t help the pleas that spilled from your mouth, “ Yes! Yes! Yes! Just like that! Aus, PLEASE.” You began riding his face with more urgency. 

A hand came to smack and grip at your ass to help you with your motion, by now your stomach had begun to build up into that all too familiar knot of delicious agony. 

“ Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit! “ You squealed, “ Aus I’m close! I gotta get up.” You tried scrambling off him and out of his grip, out of fear he truly wouldn’t be able to breathe from how hard you were about to flood his face. 

Little did you know that was all the motivation he needed to go harder, using his tongue and mouth to take a grip on your clit that outta to be illegal. He sent a series of smacks to your exposed ass to let you know that you had better not go anywhere. 

Tears sprang in your eyes, “ I-I. It’s too much! “ 

You white knuckled the headboard as your body began to heat up and spark with your impending orgasm. “ Aus I’m about to cum all over your fucking face!” 

“ That’s it, baby. Let go for me.” He moaned out against you. 

Gripping your ass harder he helped grind you faster against his tongue until he felt your body begin convulsing above him, “ I’m fucking cumming! Aus! Yes! Yes! Yes! “ You hissed, feeling the floodgates overtake you. 

After cleaning you up with a couple more licks and slurps, he catches your limp body and gently lowers you to lay next to him. 

Through hazy pleasure ridden eyes you look over to see that previously mentioned glistening smile set across his face as he lays triumphantly next to you!

You feel the bed dip as he disappears into the bathroom and returns with two damp towels: one for you and one for him. 

He goes to really clean you up before hoisting you in his arms and carrying you to the bathroom to pee. 

After everything is said and done, he brings a now sleepy you into his chest, arms creating a warm cage of comfort, “ So, will I be doing that again this weekend?” His hands rub your back. 

You nod and he smiles, “ That good? “ 

Voice cracking you whisper back, “ Could you not tell by the way I left Lake Erie on your face that it was fuckin’ amazing.” 

“ Just checking. “ He laughed, “ Next time we’ll try for the Mississippi, yeah?” 

_____

Next Day

Madison Square Garden 

New York Rangers vs Philadelphia Flyers Game 

“ I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. I’ve always wanted to go to one of these.” You squealed looking out at the crisp white ice while you were surrounded by thousands of other people.

Cup of water in hand and popcorn in lap, you’d dressed in thick wool lined jeans , a Flyers jersey, converse, and had your baseball cap to the back in spirit of your first time seeing a Flyers game in person. 

Austin laughed and took a sip of the wine he’d gotten. “ I’m glad we’re enjoying ourselves. I keep forgetting you told me you were a little hockey fan. Would have never guessed.”

You laugh, “ Yeah. When I was little my Aunt dated the guy who did the sound at the games for the Blue Jackets so we always got tickets. She’d go and take us up on the weekends and I can remember just always having the best time. Ever since I’ve become quite fond of hockey. The smell of the wet ice when they redo it, the chill of the arena, the way the glass rattles when the players zip by. I love it.” 

Austin noticed the way you hadn’t taken your eyes off the ice the entire time you were talking about this little passion of yours. A smile passed his face in satisfaction that he’d learned something new about you. For most of the rest of the time he got more pleasure from watching you watch the game then actually paying attention to what was going on himself. 

The way your nose scrunched when a shot was missed, your little squeals when your team regained the puck, and even how you held your own and  weren’t afraid to get back with surrounding audience members who may have said something to you out of the way.

This was hockey after all.

By the time halftime rolled around you were content at watching your favorite little segments. 

Kid of the game, celeb look alike, and your personal favorite: The Kiss Cam. 

The cliche track by Sixpence None The Richer echoed throughout the arena as you watched couples old and young peck each other and giggle for the camera.

It warmed your heart, but what happened next made it drop to your ass and roll onto the ice.

Because suddenly, your face made up in about a million pixels on the big kiss cam screen, there you and your grinning boyfriend were on display for the whole world.

People around you had begun to cheer and you could see Austin’s face was turning a shade of candy apple red. 

“ Aus.” You whispered, half covering our face.  The encouragement and cheering only grew louder and you felt Austin’s hand come to remove yours from your face. “ Hey. C’mon we can’t let everyone else have all the fun.” 

“ Just pretend it’s you and I. Only us. Okay?” He whispered, taking your face into his hands. 

You nodded and took a deep breath closing your eyes with a mixture of excitement and nerves pinging through you as your lips connected with his in a sweet little innocent kiss. 

The whoops and cheers intensified around you and when you pulled away you saw the wide smile Austin had his arm around your waist and you both waved to the camera one last time. 

After you were off Austin wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss on your head, “ Always wanted to kiss a pretty girl on one of those things. Never thought I’d ever get the guts to do it.  Guess dreams come true.“ He laughed.  

You could still feel your heart pounding in your chest a bit thinking about how you’d replay that moment in your head for who knew how long to come, “ Yeah. They really do, they really do.” 

He placed a kiss on your hand and the both of you returned your attention back to the screen just as an older couple appeared. 

Eventually after some shouting, another small bag of popcorn, and twenty autographs from Austin to some fans later, the game was over, the Flyers beat the Rangers, and the two of you happily walked along to the car. 

“ Home for a nap. “ Austin suggested. 

“ Yes Please.” You yawned, feeling the excitement of the day beginning to catch up with you. 

______

Austin’s Brownstone - 8:23pm 

“ Well, Good Evening sleepy-head.” Austin greeted your groggy figure as you sat up with a pile of blankets sliding from you. 

“ Evening?! “ You yawned while looking around at the dimming sky outside the big bay window in the living room. “ My gosh, babe. How long did you let me sleep? What time is it? Don’t we have reservations? “  

You looked over to the loveseat where Austin had his feet propped up with a book in hand.

“ Woah. “ He held up a hand, “ Slow down. Take a breath.”

“ I let you sleep because you needed to rest, Babe. It’s about eight-twenty five right now and I called and canceled the reservations we had because truth be told I’m a little tired too. “ 

Your bottom lip stuck out and you went to protest but he held up a hand. 

“ So, instead I thought maybe you’d want to order in. Your choice. Thai, Italian, Mexican…”  He threw out the options. Nothing sounds good.

“ Do you know any good sandwich places? “ 

______

Forty five minutes and two wrapped hero sandwiches later…

“ Two-truths and one lie go.” You randomly said, reaching for one of his fries. 

“ Hmm. Alright. Well, I once shared the same production lot with Beyoncé and met her. “ He began, “ Two, I used to come home every single day in elementary school to eat lunch with my mother, and I once played a sad tree in my acting group’s play when I was younger..” 

You threw up your grease ridden hands, “ Automatically I'm gonna assume that the Beyonce thing is unfortunately untrue because I don’t think you would’ve held out on me like that. And I’m almost positive from that picture your sister showed that you were a sad bird in that play. So,I don’t know…maybe the lunch thing. I wouldn’t think an elementary school would let a kid walk home like that? Right? “ 

Austin smiled, “ Well my dear. Unfortunately this one you’d be wrong because all through elementary school I did in fact have a standing lunch appointment with my mother everyday.” He revealed.

“ Really?! And the school just let you go? “ 

He nodded, “ Yeah. We started doing it because of how shy I was. I couldn't really make friends at that age because of it, so sometimes it was hard being in school. Everyone knew everyone in town so the walk home and back was a breeze. We always ate P & J’s and watched cartoons or old westerns.” He recalled the fond memories. “ I know with work and other things at the time I’m sure her doing it wasn’t exactly ideal, but she still always made it work.” 

Your heart swelled for him as you reached out to rub his shoulder.

“ Awe, Austin, that sounds so sweet. She seemed amazing. “ 

“ Yeah, she was.” He sighed, “ She really was.” 

“ Wish I’d had a mom like that.” You sighed, “ I wish I would have had a mom period. “ 

As soon as the words left your mouth and you saw the look on Austin’s face, you instantly felt embarrassed. 

It wasn’t like Austin didn’t know about your situation, it just wasn’t something that you had in-depth discussed before. And you also really weren’t trying to make this seem about you either. It was just a little slip of word vomit.

You backtracked, “ I mean I do have a Mom. Just, it’s rather I just…have no idea where she is. Sorta…” 

Noticing you were about to say more but held yourself back, Austin encouraged you to continue, “ Hey. It’s alright. Tell me.” 

“ Okay well. From what I know, my Aunt said after I turned a year my mother wasn’t really around much. Started going out and hanging around with friends all hours of the night, and she just really didn’t seem that interested in Gracie and me anymore. Even disappeared for days at a time.” 

“ She left my Dad a note one night. On it she explained that she couldn’t imagine another day of being a mother. Specifically she said that it was draining something out of her that she was afraid she’d never get back. That we’d all be better off without her being there, herself included.” 

 “ I was only a year and some change and Gracie was almost five. And Dad did the best he could raising two girls by himself. He didn’t date much or anything really. Just was a devoted GM Plant worker and an even more devoted Dad.” 

“ A couple years later he found out that she’d remarried, moved to a part of Spain, and had more children. So, he made the decision to go to court and officially file for full custody of us. Which she didn’t contest, naturally.” You continued, “ I don’t think he ever really got over it, unfortunately.” 

“ He never talked about her at all.  And when he passed away when I was thirteen from congestive heart failure we went to live with our grandmother in Georgia. Gracie graduated and decided to move to Texas to pursue a career in public service. And after graduation I got a scholarship to Arizona State, so my grandmother moved and then decided to travel the world.” 

“ If you don’t mind me asking, has she ever tried to reach out? “ Austin questioned. 

You nodded, “ Only once. Not to me though.” You clarified.

“  When Gracie got married. Somehow she’d found Gracie’s address and sent a letter. Gracie read it but never responded. And she never told me what the letter said either. Her silent way of still protecting her little sister. I guess.” 

“ Would you have wanted to know what it said? “ 

“ I don't really know. Maybe? Maybe not? “  You answered. “ She wrote it just to Gracie. So, I'm sure there’s a reason for that.” 

“ Being honest….” You started feeling your lip begin to quiver and eyes water at the incoming thought. “ I always wondered if I was the reason she left? Like maybe I was hard to take care of or if carrying me did something negative to her. I-I *sniffle* It doesn’t sound like she wanted to leave when she had Gracie, so why after me? Why didn’t she stay? “ 

Your vision had full on fuzzied out now and your cheeks were slick with tears, turning his head to look at you all Austin could do was feel his heart ache. 

He tried to reach out  but you instinctively moved away trying to cover your face, “ Don’t. It’s fine.” Your voice cracked. 

He frowned, “ No it’s not, babe. You’re upset. My best girl is crying. Nothing is ever fine when my best girl is crying. It’s very far from fine actually.” He fussed moving toward you still. 

“ Hey.” He cooed, while reaching over to gently grab you and pull you onto his body, “ Hey. Shhh. It’s okay. Let it out.” He encouraged, rubbing your back and placing a kiss to your head as small sobs still escaped you. 

A hand went to your head to hold against him as he offered you all of his love and comfort.

After a while you’d began to settle and quiet at the warm feeling of being enveloped in his arms and calmed by his words. He hated that you were feeling this way. In situations like this it truly made Austin appreciate his mother, he couldn’t have imagined ever having any other maternal experience then what he had. He wished everyone could have had that. 

“ Hey, look at me.” He cupped your face and wiped at the tears while you sniffled, “ Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life, sweetheart.” 

“ I’m lucky to have you in my life.” He affirmed while making sure your eye contact never broke, tears forming in his.  “ You hear me? I love you.” 

You nodded, clinging to his shirt, “ I love you too, Austin.” 

He smiled, “ Of course. Snot and all.” He teased making you giggle and shriek away from him. 

He went to lean over and hand you the tissue box he’d snatched.

“ Now, let’s get into bed. How about a shower and a movie? Any movie you want.”

At this declaration you perked, “ Any movie? “ 

Now a bit skeptical, Austin still nodded, “ Any movie.” 

______

“ Okay, I changed my mind. Any movie but this one.” He groaned.

“ Austin.” You mirrored his groan. 

“ Fine.” He mumbled dragging you into his arms as the beginning of Lilo and Stitch played on the screen.

“ You really like this movie, huh? “ Austin chuckled into your headscarf. 

“ It’s my favorite! I was obsessed when I was little. I had a lilo and stitch lunch box, bed set, and all kinds of stuff.” You explained.’

“ And have you ever been to Hawaii? “

“ Nu uh. Haven’t gotten around to it. Maybe one day.” 

“ Uh huh.” Austin yawned.

Maybe one day real soon…

[loveanddeepspice]

𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis:  you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating:  18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw:  religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter:  5 / ?

✞ co-authors:  redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link:  here

✞ chapter synopsis: a series of risky decisions gets you into more than one kind of trouble.

✞ index: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

Please comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list for updates!

The next few days were spent in the confines of your childhood home, your bed almost becoming your permanent address as you thought about that kiss. The kindness and how the words expressed resonated with you in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.  But more than anything, how the kissing Father Sylus had made you feel - the tenderness of it all. But surely you were getting ahead of yourself and even found yourself a little disgusted with yourself over the whole encounter. 

But he had just been so close, too sweet, and his face was so beautiful, and all you wanted to do was press kisses all over him. 

But it’s wrong, isn’t it? 

Something inside you rebelled against the idea for obvious reasons. Any resolve you had would disintegrate when you decided to act or speak on it. 

But then, one evening, Rafayel called. You barely answered in time because part of you was hoping it would be someone else.

“Hey babe, just wanted to check up and see how you’re doing. Haven’t heard from you.” 

You blinked, frozen for a moment as you twisted into a sitting position on your bed. “Fine. What’s up?” 

He chuckled, and you weren’t sure if he was annoyed. You felt slightly upset at yourself for not reaching out when you could have. A normal rekindled friendship typically involves a friend being there for the other, especially after what he revealed to you. But before you could follow up with an apology, he spoke again.

“Nothing in particular. I wondered if you wanted to get some of the old gang together and go up into the woods like we used to.” 

You knew the place he was walking about, the old lumber yard out in the middle of the woods where the kids from town used to gather. It had been a favorite spot to hang out, build bonfires, other illegal shit teenagers liked to do when they wanted to get away from their parents. 

“What do you mean ‘the gang?’” You asked. 

“Well, uh, it’s just gonna be you and me. When I tried to call anyone else from school, they either laughed at me for being back here or didn’t answer.” You could hear his nervous laugh when his words cut off. “Still a small town, and everyone is the same.” 

You couldn’t resist, though. Even if you were a bit too old for that behavior. Reliving your past was one of the reasons you returned home in the first place. “I have nothing better to do, so yeah. Sounds great.” You paused, wondering if you had said the right thing, hoping that Rafayel understood what you meant. “Sorry, I’ve been…not myself lately. Lot’s on my mind.” You rubbed the back of your knee with your fingers before standing, keeping the phone to your ear as you crossed the room to where your suitcase lay open on a chair. 

“I get it.” He responded with a laugh, light and airy in a way that made you smile. “Life is pretty shitty, especially for people like us who - well, you know.” There was a hint of apology in his tone as you heard him open and close a door. “This is the perfect opportunity for me to listen to you now.” 

“I kissed the priest.” 

“Fucking, what? The hot one?” 

You sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward a bit, a bit shaken now with your admission. Even though you had spoken it out loud, you still felt as if you couldn’t totally come to grips with the situation. 

“Well, yeah. He’s the only one.”  You said, curling your hand around the hem of the comforter. “And I’m also in love with a married man. I’m losing it. This is what happens to people who don’t peak in high school or something!” 

Rafayel said nothing, obviously processing. Then he began to chuckle, which turned into a laugh. Then, he let out the most ridiculous roar of laughter. 

“Wow,” he managed to gasp out after a bit, only to laugh again. You could imagine how his shoulders probably shuddered as they shook and the grin plastered on his face. “Okay, once Talia goes to bed, I’ll grab her car and pick you up. And then you’re explaining this whole damn story to me. Got it?” 

“Got it.” 

“I can’t even comprehend this,” Rafayel breathed after you recounted your tale of how you ended up back home, finishing off with the way Father Sylus had kissed you and the way your panic overtook you. He shook his head, hands clenching and unclenching, brow knitted as he looked at you. 

The two of you sat in Talia's car, parked outside the old lumber yard in the woods. The empty dirt parking lot was bathed in the moon's light peeking through the clouds. The bowl on the dash between you both served as a reminder that some things hadn’t changed and that this was the first place you had smoked weed. 

Rafayel picked it up, fingers curling around the glass as he brought it to his lips. The flick of the lighter illuminated his face in the dark car, shadows dancing across his cheekbones as he inhaled deeply. You couldn’t blame him for his reaction. 

When he passed it to you, you mirrored his actions, feeling the smoke fill your lungs and the earthy taste coating your tongue. You held it in briefly before exhaling slowly, leaning back into the passenger seat. 

“And Xavier asked me out.” You said. 

Your friend’s face contorted in disbelief before he let out a short burst of laughter. “You’re joking, right?” 

“Nope.” You giggled and looked out towards the old building before you, wondering how he could think you were making any of this up. 

“Damn, you have three guys chasing after you, begging for scraps. I bet the doctor has loads of money.” Rafayel clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “This is every girl’s dream! I don’t understand what the problem is.” 

And as if it suddenly hit him all at once, he started to laugh, and the laugh turned out to be contagious. You both soon ended up in a fit of giggles inside the growing colder car. 

“I mean, what am I supposed to do? Ask him to leave his wife?” You huffed. 

“Relax! Think about it. People get divorced all the time.” The high was definitely setting in as Rafayel rested his head on the back of the seat. “And if he’s as hopelessly infatuated with you as you said, he might do it anyway.” 

“Rafayel! That’s horrible.” 

He leaned in and playfully nudged your shoulder, saying, “I can’t help but be honest with you. Who would I be if I wasn’t?” He caught the look on your face and rolled his eyes, flicking the lighter absentmindedly. “Or, you know, you could just call him up and give him a piece of your mind. Maybe that will push him right in the direction of Silver Springs.”

You rolled your eyes and muttered, feeling the familiar laziness creeping into your body. You barely resisted the urge to snort at his suggestion. “The Fleetwood Mac song?” 

“Yeah, Stevie cursed him, you know. Lindsey. In ‘97. Hexed him right on stage in front of everyone. So if I were you, I would call him up and tell him what direction he can shove his thumb up his own ass.” 

You laughed again, shaking your head at Rafayel’s ridiculous suggestion. The pot was doing its job, making everything seem way funnier than it should be. 

“I don’t know, man,” you sighed, sinking further into the seat. “Even if Zayne does leave his wife for me, which would be so wrong, what about Father Sylus? I mean, I kissed a priest, for Christ’s sake!” 

Rafayel took another long drag from the bowl before setting it between you in the cupholder, smoke once again billowing in the car as he responded. “Hey, forbidden love is the hottest kind. And I figure if I’m going to get any entertainment out of this town, it’s gonna be from you at this point. So just call the fucking doctor while I’m still high.” With that, he shoved your shoulder, and you turned and shoved him right back. 

You grumbled as you reached for your phone, unlocking it as the smoke settled around you. You scrolled through your contacts until your thumb was right over the number. It was so tempting, especially with the encouragement of the young man beside you - but you stayed still. 

You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you. 

“Fuck it.” You breathed deeply, heart hammering, and hit the phone symbol. As soon as you heard the first ring, you nearly jumped. 

Why do I do this? A mantra in your mind, like a worm in your skull, beating against the insides repeatedly with a tiny hammer. 

You waited, putting the phone on speaker so the idiot beside you could hear. After a few long rings, you were about to hang up when there was a click. An unfamiliar voice picked up instead of the one you were used to, and the wave of anxiety almost made you dizzy.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft, not as straightforward or bubbly as you had imagined she would sound.

Silent, you swallowed thickly, and along with the fear, you felt the ache settle in once again. The sharp guilt began coiling around you. You looked toward Rafayel, who suddenly looked just as panicked as you. He quickly grabbed your phone, raising an index finger to his lips and giving you a stern look. 

“Hi! Uh, I’m calling about your car's extended warranty!” Rafayel quickly stated, cutting off whatever the woman was about to say next. Then, he turned and threw your phone out of the open window. 

The two of you stared at each other blankly. Then, all the adrenaline hit you at once, and the numb haze obliterated. 

“Oh my God, fuck!” You managed to say, trying and failing to fight the delirious laughter that began wrapping through your body. You barely noticed your vision clouded with tears, and your next laugh came out mixed with a sob. “That was his - and you just - HA! You threw my phone out the window!” 

“Listen, Y/N, I don’t think that was a good -” 

“FUCK.” You kicked the dashboard with your foot, the glove compartment popping open and spilling its contents onto the car's floor. “How could you throw my phone out the window like that?” you cried, turning to glare at Rafayel through your tears. 

He held up his hands defensively. “I panicked, okay? I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret later. That was his wife on the phone, not him! What were you going to say to her anyway?” 

“I don’t know!” you wailed, burying your face in your hands. The high rapidly dissipated, ruined, and replaced by a growing despair. “I’m a horrible person. What am I doing with my life?” 

Rafayel sighed and scooted closer, draping an arm lazily around your shaking shoulders. “Hey, you’re not a horrible person. Do you want a Xanax?”

“No, I don’t want Xanax! Go get my phone!”

“Okay, okay! Just chill out.” Rafayel moved to open the car door but paused, a muttered curse leaving his mouth before he hurriedly attempted to clean up the drug paraphernalia scattered on the console. Then he turned just in time to have a flashlight shone in his face. In all of your agitation, it appeared that neither of you had noticed the other vehicle that had pulled up. 

“Hi, Tara.” Rafeyel greeted the deputy at the window with a thinly veiled hint of irritation as he shielded his eyes with the back of one hand. “Good to see you.” 

Tara looked at him, and then her eyes landed on you and widened slightly, her mouth parting as she put the two of you together. “Really? You’re back home?” 

Tara was only a couple years younger than you, and there was no surprise that this was her chosen profession. You remembered how she used to hang around all the time in high school, staying behind and hoping you’d ask her to hang out to go to a party. Even back then, it was as if you couldn’t shake her, the girl pursuing anything and getting into anything she could think of. 

“So, uh.” Tara leaned over and peeked into the car, leaning her free hand on the window. Perfectly manicured nails and the same cherry red lipstick; her features and skin soft. “What are you guys doing?” 

You started to laugh again, unable to resist the odd delight rippling through you. Rafayel tensed, and his lips pressed together as he looked at you in warning. 

“Nothing, officer.” You answered with a grin. “Don’t you have more important things to do? What’s all we ever did when we came up here?” 

Rafayel slapped a hand to his forehead. Tara scoffed and looked around nervously, as if confused as to how you reached the admission you realized shouldn’t have slipped out of your mouth so easily. Her sudden lack of boldness reminded you of the faux courage she often displayed when she was younger, which was why you were never that close with her. 

As long as you’ve known Talia, she was the type to call the priest whenever something happened. Even though you partially expected it, you were still on edge seeing Father Sylus walking into the tiny police station with her. 

You were sitting on a bench with Rafayel, feeling angry and frustrated, and your high completely came down when the two of them walked in. Your head snapped up at the sight of the tall man next to Talia, looking composed and put together while she looked like she had just taken a sleeping pill. It truly was no surprise to see Talia rushing in to rescue Rafayel from whatever trouble he had gotten himself into. 

“Rafayel.” Talia’s small, five-foot frame was in front of her nephew. “You…” She rubbed her temples and let out a groan. 

“Sorry, Talia.” He held up his hands, which were cuffed together, a bit of a chuckle leaving his mouth as if he thought this was the most amusing thing that could possibly happen to him. 

You averted your gaze again, the memory of the kiss burning in your mind, and you couldn’t bear to look up. A fresh wave of shame washed over you. Talia’s exasperated voice faded into the background as your heart pounded. 

“Come on, let’s get you two out of here,” Talia finally said with a sigh. She turned to Tara, who was seated at the desk nearby. “I’m assuming there won’t be any charges? They were just being stupid, right Tara?” 

Tara glanced between you and Rafayel, conflict flickering across her face. You could see the gears turning in her mind, weighing the social capital to be gained by letting this slide versus following protocol. After a tense beat, she sighed and waved a dismissive hand. 

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s go fill out the paperwork.”

Talia nodded curtly and followed Tara out of the room, and an awkward silence descended, thick and lingering, although you couldn’t pinpoint the cause of it. You kept your gaze fixed on the scuffed linoleum, tracing patterns with your eyes. 

“Hey, Father,” Rafayel said, “What’d Talia say when she called you?” 

“She asked for a ride, said she would kill you, and needed someone to perform the last rites.” 

Rafayel let out a short laugh at Father Sylus’ dry response, but you remained silent, still unable to bring yourself to look at the priest. Your mind kept replaying that moment - the gentle press of his lips against yours. How could you face him now, after what transpired between you? What would you even say? 

“Right.” Rafayel hummed, “Suppose I should thank you then. Potentially saving my soul and all that.” He nudged you with his elbow, “Ain’t that right, bestie?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You mumbled, only lifting your head when Tara appeared in front of you to remove the handcuffs from your wrists. Talia moved before her nephew, jingling her car keys before dropping them into his hands. 

“Let’s get out of here before I change my mind, Rafayel,” She grumbled. He flashed her a cheeky grin but wisely kept his mouth shut this time. 

“I can take Y/N home.” Father Sylus nodded toward you once you stood and shook out your wrists. Nervously, your eyes flickered to Rafayel, who looked terrified for you for a brief second before mouthing the words, 'Touch his butt.'

A moment later, you found yourself outside the police station next to the priest who had consumed your thoughts since that ill-advised kiss. You shivered in the harsh autumn breeze that cut straight through the light jacket you wore. You risked a brief glance at Father Sylus. He stood without a jacket, radiating heat, and for a moment, you wanted to press against him to feel that warmth. 

You found your words. “I - I can get home on my own,” you said, a bit harsher than was necessary. “I’m an adult the last time I checked.” 

Father Sylus paused at the bottom of the steps and turned around. There wasn’t any tension or hesitation in his tone, just like the other night. He was just genuinely inquiring. “How are you feeling, Y/N?” 

Shivering slightly and wrapping your arms around yourself, you looked toward the man and offered a smile. Your voice had the faintest tremor as you tried to joke, “I’ve been better.” 

Father Sylus glanced at you from the corner of his eye as you fell into step beside him, releasing a little snort at your sarcasm, a gesture that, for some reason, sent a hot rush of awe through you. 

“That’s all right, Y/N.” He said with a sad smile. “We can talk about it later if you want. For now, the important thing is getting you home.” Reflexively, his hand came to rest on the small of your back as he steered you toward the parking lot.

Just the brief caress of his warm hand on your back made your thighs clench. It didn’t mean anything, you told yourself, but your stomach churned as the sweet electricity of his touch rushed through you. 

Stop it, you told yourself. He was just showing you where he had parked. Yet his lingering warmth was flooding your senses. Swallowing thickly, you pinched your brows together and hoped you didn’t actually upset him in any way. 

“Should I be worried?” he asked. 

“About what?” 

“The things you’re into.” 

Stopping, a hard lump formed in your throat, and the entire world fell into a hush. The nearly pitch black parking lot of the police station, the night chill, the beautiful priest that just - was he teasing you, now? 

“Again. I’m in my twenties. Weed,” you snapped, emphasizing the last word, “Isn’t a big deal.” 

His palm felt scorching through your jacket as he closed a hand around the top of your shoulder, squeezing gently. 

“Hey now,” He said, making your breath hitch as you stiffened slightly. “It was just a question.” 

You said nothing, simply sliding into the passenger seat of Father Sylus’s car.

A quiet settled between you two in the car, then. All you could do was look out the window at the dark neighborhood and overanalyze every word, every touch, trying to pinpoint exactly how you felt. But how could you even explain that the man beside you gave you the thrill of wanting to do something terrible? Because there had been a moment with him, something that broke the reality of the relationship the two of you had. It didn’t necessarily feel awful, more like an unspoken truth waiting to be expressed. 

You tried to control your emotions and thought process, registering that you were in front of your house now. Just as you were going to say goodnight and grab the door handle, you heard Father Sylus speak. 

“I owe you an apology for the other night.” The quiet murmur was easy to miss, but you did everything possible to hang onto the sound. A mix of breath. You looked back at him, trying to catch his eyes in the darkness only illuminated by the porch light from the distance. 

“I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” He continued, “I’d still like for us to talk.” 

As tempting as it was to open the car door and leave, the ache in your belly nearly overwhelmed you. A terrible, crushing sense of longing settled in. Knowing where the lines were drew a blank in your mind. Where the hell were you supposed to draw the line? Fuck, was this situation genuine, or just one of opportunity? 

“Can I ask an inappropriate question, Father?” You choked out, swallowing the lump of anxiety that wound its way around the base of your neck. You watched as he shut the car off.

“What is it?” He wasn't looking at you, but the hand still on the wheel tightened slightly. 

Inhaling deeply, your heart thumped at an aching speed as you murmured your question, your voice beginning to betray how much he affected you. “Do you kiss a lot of girls?” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

Why the hell did you mean to bring that up? What good would knowing do, even? Right, of course, you would just go ahead and ruin the image of purity - what was the worst that could happen? 

“Well,” You continued, unable to stop yourself but choosing your words carefully, “You kissed me. So, do you kiss a lot of girls?” 

Father Sylus was quiet for a long, brutal moment. You felt sweat bead on your skin despite the car being cool. Clenching your fists and digging your nails into your palm, you try to brace yourself. You hadn’t intended to ask your question so outwardly , but what other way was there to put it? 

“Y/N, you’re trying to minimize our connection,” he said. He took a deep, steadying breath and then rubbed a hand over his brow. “And I can ignore it. I can try to pray for the strength to bear it.”

Then, he met your gaze directly. In the light from the porch, you could see how his crimson eyes tore into you, emotion suddenly exposed and bared. For the second time, he had allowed you to glimpse what was hiding under the careful mask he put on. 

You almost flinched as he touched your knee, his tone dropping. “But I won’t diminish it.” 

You found yourself falling, then, into those wounded eyes. You slid your hand forward and set it over his, the heat from the simple touch making you feel like you had touched an ember. 

Before you knew what you were doing, you leaned across the center console to kiss him, slow and sweet. 

Please don’t push me away.

For a moment, you feel his surprise. However, just before you pull away, he pulls you forward, one warm hand sliding up your back and the other threading through your hair gently, reverently.

You moan softly into his mouth, and his grip tightens slightly. He deepens the kiss, pressing his tongue into your mouth. You lose yourself in the feel of his lips on yours, his hands on your body.

The gentleness he handles you with stokes the fire within you, warming you from the inside and slowly turning into a fever. You long for him to hold you tightly, to show you he wanted you too - you need that affirmation. 

Then his lips grazed the shell of your ear, voice husky and warm. “You’re far too close for your own good.” 

What sort of torment was this? All these words hung in the air that you wanted to say, but none came to your mind except for - 

“Fuck me,” you rasped. Your face felt hot as the words spilled from your lips, driven by the intensity of your want. “Please, I -” 

He silenced you with his mouth, capturing your lips again. His kiss is no less intense and consuming but maintains a level of restraint that a part of you hoped was rapidly crumbling. Your hands move on their own accord, reaching for his belt. 

A hand on your wrist stops you before you can go any further, his skin like silk against the pounding pulse point of your wrist. It was a heavyweight, slowly making its way up to where your heart was beating wildly. 

He’s looking directly into your eyes when he brings your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles gently. 

“No here, sweetheart.” His voice is feather-light as he speaks. “Not like this.” 

While he let go of your wrist, something unseen held you in place. But it was only momentarily before the horror of what you had tried to do crashed over you. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry, I - what the fuck am I doing?” 

With the state you were in, it wouldn’t take much for the well of tears to come. Unable to look at him, you unlocked the car door and pushed it open, nearly tripping on your feet as you stumbled onto the pavement. 

You didn’t look back, fearing falling apart, and slammed the door shut. 

Rather than going through the front door, you circled the house and went up the back porch through the kitchen. Once inside, you walked past your dad in the living room, who was sleeping on the couch with the television blaring and a near-empty bottle of beer within arm’s reach. 

You went into the bathroom in the hallway, shut and locked the door, then slid down onto the cold tile. 

The rejection shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. No, this was different. Something deep inside, something raw and fiery, made the ache grow exponentially. It was the memory of the touch, the intoxicating mixture of scents. 

Anger clawed its way to the surface because you couldn’t even wrap your head around what you felt. How pathetic, how foolish, how humiliating. 

Clutching the sides of your head, you let out a scream, frustration causing your body to shake. 

You wanted so badly to disappear. 

Did God have a sense of humor or something? 

tag list: @celestialforce @readerxyourbabe

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 18)

Hello again, and welcome back to Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics!

I am so sorry for the delay. Honestly, I've just been flat out fucking exhausted lately (I know, what's new?). This new job has been running me fucking ragged, but I like my job, my hours have increased, and it's almost certainly going to become a permanent position moving forward, so I can't complain too much about it. Still, I'll probably be posting the remaining parts of the series a lot slower than I have been, at least while things are as hectic as they are at work. But you can rest assured that they will be posted.

Just a little warning, it seems that we have hit a second wave of kid fic with this list (I must have perused a few fic rec lists or something, because hot damn, was I reading kid fic at this point in my bookmarks), so sorry about that if it's not your thing. But also you're welcome if it is.

As always, thank you all so much for your continued support of this series. I appreciate each and every one of you, and please know that it brings me such joy to know that you're all enjoying these fics as much as I have.

I'm not gonna ramble on for too much today. I hope you're all having as good a day as you can, if not a great one.

Smoochies and squeezies!

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

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ADHDecaf by prdskat (T | 1/1 | 2,765)

Stiles is 25 and runs his own coffee shop. Derek doesn't know this. Derek, a mechanic, thinks that Stiles is 17 and jail-bait.

Misunderstandings ensue.

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Potential concussions and best laid plans by alice9 (NR | 1/1 | 3,322)

“Stiles! Stiles, are you alright?” His father was craning around as if he could see Stiles in the dark. “Dad, I’m alright. She didn’t stab anything important.” “Stab!” Right, he hadn’t seen her stab him. Because he couldn’t turn around.

Or

Stiles and the Sheriff are taken by hunters and it isn't Stiles favorite, like at all.

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A Little Push in the Right Direction by crossroadswrite (G | 1/1 | 3,708)

“Can I see your wolf face?”

Derek flushes all over, ducks his head and kicks the carpet awkwardly. “I, uh, can’t really shift into my beta shift.”

Stiles squints at him and for a split second the color of his eyes turns liquid, like there’s whiskey sloshing around in the irises. It’s subtle enough that it could pass for a trick of the light but Derek knows better; growing up peeking at an array of supernatural creatures from behind his mom’s legs taught him enough to take a step back.

“Maybe you need a push.”

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From the Cradle to the Grave by jezziejay (T | 1/1 | 4,207)

It’s not that the sheriff doesn’t like Derek. It’s just that he thinks Stiles could do better.

 But Stiles has been an adult for over two years now, so he can make his own choices. Even if they are terrible.

 Also, the sheriff doesn’t like Derek.

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Faking It To Making It by gryvon (T | 1/1 | 4,565)

When the Alpha traps Scott and his friends in the high school, Stiles refuses to throw Derek under the bus.

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Children's Tales by artemis69 (G | 1/1 | 4,690)

Be careful, little girl.

Don’t go causing troubles in Beacon Hills, little girl, because the Hales live there.

Keep away from Beacon Hills, little girl, or the Hales will destroy you.

-- Or: In a world where the Hales are alive and the protectors of the town of Beacon Hills, the humans politely fake ignorance of their not-really-human status, and they all live happily ever after.

Then Kate comes in.

Well.

Tries to.

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Leave It All Behind by asarcasticwitch (M | 1/1 | 4,864)

A coil of panic tightens in his chest as, after just three short rings, Derek’s voice—raspy as if barely awake—echoes through the speaker. “Do you know what time it is?” he grumbles, and at any other time, Stiles would’ve made a joke or retorted with something so sarcastic it would’ve undoubtedly earned him a huff in return. But right now, he can’t think of anything to say.

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The Story's Going Somewhere by skoosiepants (T | 1/1 | 5,448)

Inside the station, a honey-eyed waif with a shorn head and a long pale throat is clicking away at a pen and swinging his chair back and forth behind the receptionist desk. Derek plasters on his most charming grin and leans up against it, bracing a hand in front of the guy and sliding his sunglasses down to give him a once-over.

The guy blinks up at him and flushes. His mouth falls open a little and Derek clears his throat around the way he kind of wants to press his thumb to it.

“Hey,” Derek says, still grinning. “I’m here for my sister?”

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Excuse Me, I Believe You Have My Children series by Elpie (Horribibble) (2 works | T | 7,188)

1. A Knight in Shining Flannel (T | 1/1 | 3,650) When a frantic phone call from his daughter sends him speeding across town, Derek Hale is prepared for the worst. What he finds instead are the Stilinskis. - An AU featuring tiny werewolves, awkward single dads, and one bad babysitter. 2. Hide and Go Scare the Hell Out of Daddy (T | 1/1 | 3,538) When Toby has a meltdown in the middle of the shoe department, Stiles has no idea what to do to calm him down. Derek provides a little helper. - An AU featuring tiny werewolves, awkward single dads, and an ill-timed clothing rack safari.

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The One Where They Adopt a Selkie by mikkimouse (T | 1/1 | 7,737)

"That's a kid," Stiles said.

Derek growled. "It's a selkie."

"It's a selkie kid," Stiles pointed out, because really, they did not need to be arguing semantics right now. "Do selkies just go around leaving their kids sleeping in caves on the beach?"

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The Truth Is by BulletBlaze (T | 1/1 | 8,851)

“Well, you should get going then-” “You could come around some time-” A pause. “Wait, what?” A blush bloomed across Derek's cheeks, barely visible over the top of his beard. He shrugged again. “If you wanted to. You could stop by while I'm fixing it up. Help me with some things. If you wanted to.” “You already said that,” Stiles, the idiot, mumbled in disbelief. Derek's blush grew a shade darker.

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Derek, Did You Steal That Baby? by SylvieW (M | 1/1 | 10,119)

When Derek suddenly shows up with a baby, everyone is suspicious. Except for Stiles. He doesn’t care where the baby came from, he just wants to play with her and explore the new side of Derek she brings out.

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Home With You by SylvieW (T | 5/5 | 11,527)

Stiles is sent to stay with the Hales so he can learn to control his spark and his impulses. Everyone treats him like a guest or a student. Except Derek.

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Wolves and Foxes Don't Get Along by Lissadiane (G | 1/1 | 14,557)

The first werewolf Stiles ever sees is a goofy looking dude with floppy brown hair and a crooked smile, leaning up against a black camaro outside the high school, wearing an oversized leather jacket, surrounded by half a dozen other preternaturally beautiful girls and guys, also in leather. Also probably werewolves.

They look like they stepped right out of Twilight and it’s not subtle.

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omnis cellula e cellula by twnkwlf (E | 3/3 | 15,302)

“You put the diaper on backwards,” Derek says.

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For If Dreams Die by veritas_st (M | 8/8 | 24,169)

“I had a dream about a boy last night,” Mischief says through a mouthful of pancakes. His dad points the spatula at him and he swallows before he says anything else. “His name was Derek. He called me Stiles. I want to be called that from now on.”

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California Never Felt Like Home to Me by CharWright5 (E | 1/1 | 31,343)

With the Kanima attacking, Hunters stalking him, and the looming threat of the Alpha Pack drawing near, Beacon Hills is no longer the home Derek once felt it had been. So when Boyd and Erica tell him that they're leaving, he joins them, along with Isaac, the Pack running into a ghost from his past as they leave California behind.

They eventually settle in a small town in North Carolina, where Derek finds himself falling for a local barista named Stiles, who shows Derek what "home" can truly mean and that it's okay for the Alpha to want something for himself every once in a while.

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Into The Open Air by Acherona, trulywicked (E | 22/22 | 99,482)

It was a little strange moving back to Beacon Hills. His daughter becoming enchanted with his odd and very attractive neighbor didn't really help matters.

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I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek series by DiscontentedWinter (4 works | G-E | 131,247)

1. I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek (M | 15/15 | 51,937) Stiles finds a baby on the porch. It looks exactly like him. Well, this is awkward. 2. My Life is not a Horror Movie, Derek (E | 12/12 | 38,993) Stiles keeps dreaming of people in robes with knives. With chanting. In Latin. And he mentioned the knives, right? That can't be good. 3. Nobody Fucks with our Pack, Derek (E | 14/14 | 36,082) There's no such thing as "unthinkable" in Beacon Hills. But this comes close. And Stiles and Derek are going to do everything they can to keep their pack together. 4. This is our Happy Ending, Derek (G | 3/? | 4,235) A collection of curtain fics for the I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek universe.

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I Was A Teenage Werewolf by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas) (E | 50/50 | 456,244)

Stiles just knows he's going to get lost in the woods. There must be a Laura Palmer reference in there somewhere.

A fork in the road retelling of Teen Wolf where Stiles is the one to get bitten.

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