#“are you going to follow in her footsteps?”

[beloveds-embrace]

I kind of need to see their reaction to the duchess mother insulting her-

I got this ask the same day I posted this, so I’m pretty it’s related to that 🙂‍↕️

The air in the hall outside your bedroom is heavy, suffocating. The door is cracked open just enough for voices to slip through, sharp and cutting, each word a dagger that buries itself deeper into your heart.

You’re curled in bed, the sheets twisted around you, your body frail and trembling under their weight. The room is dim, the curtains drawn to keep out the light, but it does nothing to hide the wreckage of your state- the unkempt hair, the tear-stained pillows, the hollow look in your eyes that even you can feel without needing to see.

And your mother doesn’t care.

“Look at you,” she snaps, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she paces. “Lying there like some pathetic, sniveling child. Is this what you’ve let yourself become? No wonder your husband doesn’t want you. Who in their right mind would?”

John freezes just outside the door. His breath catches, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides. Behind him, Simon, Johnny, and Kyle stop, their footsteps abruptly halting as they catch the sound of her voice.

Inside, you don’t answer. You can’t. Your throat feels raw from crying earlier, and the effort of defending yourself seems insurmountable.

“Do you know how humiliating this is for me?” Your mother’s voice rises, sharp and unforgiving, a screeching banshee. “To have my daughter- a duchess, no less- reduced to this? Half-dead and wallowing in her own misery? I didn’t raise you to be this weak.”

Simon’s jaw tightens, the muscle in his cheek twitching as he stares at the sliver of light of the moon spilling from your door. His breathing is slow, measured, but his fingers twitch at his sides, itching to do something, anything to stop this.

Johnny’s expression twists, his lips parting as though he’s about to say something- to barge in, to end it- but Kyle’s hand on his shoulder stops him. Kyle doesn’t look at him, though. He can’t tear his eyes away from the shadow of your mother pacing inside the room, his knuckles tight where they grip the edge of his coat.

Your mother keeps going, undeterred by your silence.

“It’s no wonder no one comes to you,” she spits. “Why would they? Look at yourself. Wasting away like this. No dignity. No pride. How do you expect anyone to love you if you can’t even bother to act like someone worth loving?”

The words hit harder than any slap, and the quiet, broken sound you make in response has Johnny stepping forward before he can stop himself. Kyle yanks him back, his grip iron-tight, but Johnny’s trembling, his whole body thrumming with the need to move- to pull her out of there, to make her stop.

John says nothing, but his silence is louder than any outburst. He stands rigid, shoulders squared, eyes dark and unreadable as he stares through the crack in the door.

Inside, you flinch as your mother’s heels come to a stop beside the bed.

“Pathetic,” she says again, quieter this time but no less digging. “You should be grateful he hasn’t thrown you out yet. Maybe he should have. Maybe then you’d finally pull yourself together.”

Kyle’s grip falters, and Johnny’s nails dig into his palms.

Simon exhales slowly, the sound sharp and dangerous.

And John- John turns and walks away, his footsteps heavy against the marble floors. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t look at the others as he passes. But the set of his shoulders, the tension in his spine, says enough.

He’s going to fix this. He needs to fix this.

Even if it’s far too late to undo what’s already been done.

The others linger for only a moment longer, torn between the urge to barge in and the weight of their own guilt keeping them rooted to the spot. Eventually, though, they follow John, leaving you alone with your mother’s words echoing in the suffocating silence.

And you?

You curl deeper into the bed, pulling the blankets over your head as if that might be enough to drown it all out.

It’s not.

[rose24207]

Mafia lando smut where reader was mad at him from an argument the other day, so she spends heaps of money on his bank account. He doesn’t find out till the bank calls to make sure it wasn’t fraud. And he punishes her

Stress Shopping

Summary: After a heated argument, you storm off on a stress-shopping spree with Lando's card, prompting a call from his bank, but the fight ends in heartfelt apologies and a reminder of his love for you.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, angst, fluff

TW: arguing, spending way too much money

A/N: loved the idea but I changed it a little! Hope you don’t mind! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The sound of the door slamming reverberates through the mansion, shaking the antique fixtures on the walls. You stomp into the grand foyer, your heels clicking sharply against the marble floors, your anger palpable in the air. Lando's sharp voice follows you, his British accent more clipped than usual.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, love!" he barks, his footsteps quick behind yours.

You spin on your heel to face him, eyes blazing with fury. "What do you want me to do, Lando? Stand there and listen while you talk to me like I’m one of your employees? Like I’m beneath you?"

His jaw tightens, the muscles working as he clenches his teeth. He’s wearing that infuriatingly expensive suit you helped him pick out, and right now, you’d love nothing more than to rip it off him—not in the fun way. "I don’t treat you like my employees," he growls. "But I am in charge, and you seem to forget that sometimes."

You laugh bitterly, crossing your arms. "Oh, how could I forget? You love reminding me every chance you get."

Lando rakes a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up slightly. Normally, the sight would make your heart soften, but right now, it only fuels your fire. "You’re being unreasonable," he snaps. "We had an agreement—"

"No, you had an agreement!" you interrupt, your voice rising. "I never agreed to this ridiculous, controlling nonsense, Lando."

His amber eyes flash dangerously. "Watch it," he warns, his voice low now, like a storm about to break. "You’re pushing me, and you know I don’t like being pushed."

But you’re too far gone to care. "And I don’t like being treated like some trophy wife who needs to follow orders. I’m done with this conversation."

Without waiting for his response, you grab your purse from the console table and march toward the front door. His voice chases after you. "Where are you going?"

"Out," you snap. "Don’t wait up."

Before he can stop you, you’re out the door, the evening air cool against your flushed skin.

The mall is your sanctuary. Under the glow of bright lights and the hum of happy chatter, you lose yourself in racks of designer clothing, rows of shoes, and glass cases of sparkling jewelry. Lando's black card burns a comforting weight in your purse, and tonight, you intend to make full use of it.

You start at Chanel, swiping the card for a pair of heels and a matching bag without so much as glancing at the price tag. Next is Cartier, where a sleek watch catches your eye. After that, you make your way to Dior, where a silk gown feels like the perfect antidote to your frustration.

Each purchase soothes the ache in your chest, replacing anger with satisfaction. By the time you leave the mall, your arms are laden with bags, and the backseat of your car is filled to the brim with boxes and tissue paper.

But your phone buzzes just as you’re pulling out of the parking lot. You glance at the screen and see Lando’s name flashing. You don’t answer.

Back at the mansion, Lando is pacing his study, his phone pressed to his ear. The man on the other end clears his throat nervously before speaking. "Mr. Norris, this is Daniel from Barclays. We’ve noticed some unusual activity on your account and wanted to confirm if your card has been compromised."

Lando pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "What kind of activity?" he asks, though he already knows the answer.

"A series of high-value transactions," Daniel replies. "Chanel, Cartier, Dior... altogether totaling a little over seventy thousand pounds. Should we freeze the card?"

Lando smirks despite himself, shaking his head. "No, Daniel," he says, his tone resigned. "It’s just my wife... throwing a tantrum."

There’s a brief silence on the other end. "Ah," Daniel says finally, clearly unsure how to respond. "Very well, sir. Shall we flag the transactions as authorized?"

"Yes," Lando says. "And don’t call again unless it’s life or death."

You return home hours later, your anger dulled by exhaustion and the satisfying sight of your new purchases. You push open the door to the mansion, your arms laden with bags, only to find Lando waiting for you in the foyer. He leans against the staircase, his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp features unreadable.

"Have fun?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm.

You ignore him, stepping past him with your head held high. But before you can make it far, he grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His grip is firm but not painful, his thumb brushing against your skin.

"Don’t ignore me," he says softly, dangerously.

You whirl around to face him, the fire in your eyes reigniting. "What do you want, Lando? To scold me for spending your money? Go ahead—I’m sure you’ve got plenty of lectures lined up."

He doesn’t rise to the bait, his gaze steady on yours. "It’s not about the money," he says. "You know that."

"Then what is it about?" you demand. "Because I’m tired of fighting with you over every little thing."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, finally, he speaks. "It’s about us," he says. "About you running off every time we argue instead of dealing with it. You think throwing my money around is going to make things better?"

"It made me feel better," you snap, yanking your wrist out of his grip.

"Fine," he says, his voice cold now. "If that’s what you want—things, clothes, jewelry—then take it all. But don’t pretend it’s going to fix what’s wrong between us."

His words hit harder than you’d like to admit. You stare at him, your chest heaving with the effort of holding back tears. "Maybe if you treated me like your wife instead of your possession, we wouldn’t have these problems," you say quietly.

Something flickers in his eyes—guilt, maybe. But he doesn’t respond, and you don’t wait for him to. You turn on your heel and head upstairs, leaving him standing alone in the foyer.

Hours later, you’re sitting in the walk-in closet, surrounded by your purchases. The excitement you felt earlier has faded, leaving behind a hollow ache. You sigh, running your fingers over the soft fabric of the Dior gown, wondering if you went too far.

A knock at the door startles you, and before you can respond, Lando steps inside. He looks tired, his tie loosened and his hair disheveled. In his hands, he’s holding a small box tied with a black ribbon.

"I brought you something," he says, his voice soft.

You raise an eyebrow. "More things? Haven’t I spent enough of your money today?"

He ignores your sarcasm, setting the box down on the bench beside you. "Open it," he says.

Curious despite yourself, you untie the ribbon and lift the lid. Inside is a delicate necklace, a simple gold chain with a tiny heart-shaped pendant. It’s nothing like the flashy pieces you bought earlier, but somehow, it feels more special.

"It’s not to bribe you," he says quickly, as if reading your mind. "I just... I wanted to remind you that I don’t care about the money or the fights. I care about you.“

You look up at him, your heart softening. "You have a funny way of showing it," you say, though your tone lacks its earlier bite.

He kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. "I know," he admits. "I’m not perfect, and I don’t always know how to handle you when you’re upset. But I’m trying, love. I promise I’m trying."

For a long moment, you say nothing, letting his words sink in. Then, finally, you reach out and cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his stubble. "I’m sorry too," you say. "I shouldn’t have stormed off like that. It wasn’t fair to either of us."

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes briefly. "So... we’re okay?" he asks, his voice tentative.

You smile softly. "We’re okay."

The next morning, you wake up to find Lando already dressed, his tie perfectly knotted and his usual confidence back in place. He leans over to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.

"Breakfast is ready downstairs," he says. "And I told the bank not to call me again if you go on another shopping spree."

You laugh, pulling the covers over your head. "Good. Because I might need a few more things."

He chuckles, his hand brushing against your hair. "Just try not to spend the GDP of a small country next time, yeah?"

You peek out from under the covers, grinning. "No promises."

And for the first time in days, everything feels right again.

Thank you for reading!

[jarofstyles]

The Heart Of The Woods

Hi my loves! I wanted to give you guys a peek into our grumpy mountain manrry! He’s different to some that I’ve written before but I think you’ll like him if you give him a chance

Read the series ( 9 parts ongoing) and 220+ exclusive writings on our Patreon!

WC- 1.4k

Warnings- tiny bit of rejection, asshole h

He hadn’t been sure what he was thinking.

Hiring a housekeeper had not been on his agenda, but it put his mum at ease. Being far from her, up in his large cabin in the middle of the mountain, she had said she worried a lot about not only his well being, but about him overworking himself. His days started early, working on splitting wood, emails, driving down to deliver it, and all of that. His group of employees that worked on the lot not too far from his own place up the mountain were his main source of socialization and even they knew not to bug him too much.

Harry preferred to be left alone.

So why hire a housekeeper? It sounded okay at the time. Someone to keep the fire stoked and the house warm so he could come home and not have the house be cold for him and his animals, someone to cook and clean and… another body in the house. Make it less lonely. Maple was a good companion, Ash was too, but a dog and a cat didn’t replace human connection. Perhaps that’s why he had found himself feeling more irritated lately.

Watching the car pull in, he had to wonder how she could fit her belongings into such a small vehicle. Weren't women supposed to have a lot of stuff? The question was answered as she stepped out of the car, light wash jeans clinging to her thighs and pink sweater hanging on her form as she waved up to him. "Hi!" she grinned a tad bit too brightly for his comfort, jogging up to the wraparound porch. "I’m so sorry l'm a little late. I got lost at the turn- the split in the road? and I didn't have good service to call and let you know. I usually try and do that.”

She was rambling.

He grumbled, wiping his hands on his work pants. “Late's fine. I didn’t have any plans today, just don’t make a habit of it.” Glancing at her car, then back at her, he gave her a little bit of a look. “You got everything you need?” He wasn’t the best at socializing, famously, but she wasn’t aware of that yet considering their talk had mainly consisted of emails. It would be something she quickly found out.

“Oh!” Her chuckle was nervous as the man stood tall above her on the wooden porch, making her look up a bit at him. “Uh, yeah. I.. I kinda had to get out of my place in a hurry, so this worked out.” She smiled up at him before looking back to her car. “Did you want me to grab my stuff now or did you want me to do it after you give me the run down of what you want me to do?”

He sighed, stepping aside to let her pass. “Follow me.” He led her inside, shutting the door behind her. It was weird feeling someone else in his space. It had been a long time since he’d heard footsteps other than his own or his pets in the hall, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it yet. Leading her down the wooden hall, he brought her towards the main part of the house- a large step down living room he mentally referred to as the den. The stone fireplace was lit with the fire going already as he gestured to a chair by it. “Sit.”

Y/N was distracted a little by the skylight- and then the view outside. It was absolutely gorgeous. The whole place was. She had slightly underestimated it despite the size of the place when she had applied to work eyes but she would make it work. At least the view was great. She could see that there was a deck outside, the view of the mountains sprawling behind them sort of blowing her away. The awe only lasted a few moments though, when she heard him clear his throat. Oops. “Sorry.” She smiled nervously. “The view distracted me. You’ve got a beautiful home.”

He grunted, not really used to compliments. Small talk wasn’t his thing. He sat down in his recliner, stretching his legs out in front of him before resting his hands on his knees. “So, as your employer, I expect you t’keep this place clean. Cook meals, do laundry, that sort of thing.” He paused, looking at her critically. “M’not home most of the day, and when I am I’m usually in my workshop. It’s the building out to the side that you saw.” He clasped his hands together. “We don’t need to have a ton of interaction. I need you to keep the fire stoked, maybe feed Ash for me if I get back late. I don’t have a lot of rules, but I ask you to respect my space.”

“Uh, alright.” She nodded, taking out her phone to take notes. “I figured the normal house stuff. I…” Her body felt the cringe as she went to ask it. “I haven’t really stoked a fire longer than it’s taken to do a bonfire while camping so, if there’s some sort of magic you know to keep it going longer I’d love to know it.” The girl didn’t want to fuck it up. The man worked with wood. The last thing she wanted to do was waste it.

It did make her a little unsettled to hear the other part, though. “Um, and what do you mean exactly by not needing to interact? Like, you don’t want to see or hear from me?”

Harry paused, his gaze sharpening a little on the girl. He was used to being alone. He liked being alone. He didn’t want to come home to some sort of chatty roommate. “I mean exactly that.” He said gruffly.

“Oh.” She replied quietly, swallowing the lump on her throat. Her gaze averted when his sharpened on hers, looking towards her lap. He was a little intimidating and she felt embarrassed for some reason- but logically she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. Didn’t mean her body knew that, though.

“O-Okay. I’ll make sure to give you your space.” Her head nodded, convincing herself it would be good for her. Maybe akin to rejection therapy. She had hoped for something a little different, but this was the escape she had needed- she couldn’t complain. “Can you tell me what kind of foods you like, or don’t, so I can make what you’ll eat?”

Harry grunted, his expression relaxing slightly at the mention of food. He hated being bothered with small talk, but food was something he could appreciate- it was part of her job, anyways. He could talk abojt that. “I like meat and potatoes. Steak, roast chicken, mashed potatoes, that sort of thing. Don’t bother with fancy shit. Just straightforward, hearty food.”

He paused, thinking for a moment before continuing. “And coffee. Black coffee. None of that fancy latte crap. Just straight up coffee.” He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “That’s all you need to know for now. You can start preparing dinner and I’ll be back later.”

“Oh! I… are you sure?” She stood up too, following him. “Where should I put my things?” Part of her felt a little nervous she had fucked up with how fast he seemed to want to get out of there, but she didn’t know what she could have done to offend him. Was this just the way he was? Probably. She shouldn’t take it personally- but part of her did, just a bit. “I don’t know which room I should set my things up in.”

Harry turned around, his expression still stern. “You can set up in the spare room down the hall. It’s the first door on the right.” He pointed down the hallway before continuing. “I don’t need any help with my things. Just worry about your own shit for now.”

Her eyes fell down towards the floor, nodding at his words. It must just be the way he was, she concluded. He didn’t bother saying goodbye as she heard the door close, the ticking of the large grandfather clock in the den the only sound until the start of his pickup was muffled outside.

Who the hell was this man? And what had she gotten herself into?

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (08)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 08 - Distance

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 09

PREV : Chapter 07

The dormitory buzzed with the sounds of light chatter and footsteps as players moved about, their voices mingling in an uneasy hum. You lay on your bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, eyes closed in a futile attempt to block it all out. Sleep was your goal, to escape the heavy thoughts weighing on your mind, even if just until tomorrow.

The faint voice of a guard announcing that dinner would soon be distributed echoed in the background, breaking through your quiet cocoon. Then, the sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears. You didn’t bother to open your eyes.

“[Your name], are you okay?” Dae-ho’s familiar voice called gently.

You kept your eyes shut. “I’m okay.”

Dae-ho sighed as well, the sound carrying his frustration. “I’m disappointed too. Jung-bae voting for O? I didn’t see that coming. I felt like screaming, ‘Sir, what are you thinking?’ at him. He agreed with us to vote for going back home just moments before the vote.”

“It can’t be helped,” another voice chimed in. You recognized it immediately as Young-il. It seemed Dae-ho wasn’t the only one who had come to check on you. Keeping your eyes closed, you listened as Young-il added, “People tend to change their minds once they’re standing at the voting counter.”

“Yeah, in a way, I kind of understood him. Because I felt that way too by the counter,” Dae-ho agreed.

A softer voice joined the conversation.

“Big sis, are you okay?” Jun-hee asked.

You finally opened your eyes, taking in the sight of Dae-ho and Jun-hee standing on the right side of your bed while Young-il lingered quietly on the left.

Turning your gaze to Jun-hee, you offered her a faint but reassuring smile. “I’m okay.”

“And we have a pregnant lady too,” Dae-ho continued, picking up where he left off. “She shouldn’t be here any longer.”

He leaned against the pillar of your bunk bed, sighing heavily. “I understood him but… what was Jung-bae thinking?”

The weight on your bed shifted slightly. You glanced down to see Young-il sitting on your bed at the far corner near your feet. His calm demeanor radiated reassurance as he addressed Dae-ho. “There’s no use thinking about it now. The votes are done. Let’s focus on staying together and winning the game again tomorrow.”

The three of them glanced in the same direction, momentarily distracted. You were about to close your eyes again when Dae-ho straightened up, his usual energy returning as he turned to you.

“Everyone is lining up to get dinner. Come on,” he said.

You shifted onto your side, pulling the blanket closer. “You guys go on ahead. I’m too tired right now.”

Dae-ho frowned, his tone firm. “You can’t sleep on an empty stomach. You need to eat. We did the hexathlon for who knows how long and didn’t even get breakfast. You must be starving, so come on.”

“But I’m so tired,” you admitted, your voice muffled against the pillow. “I just want to rest before the next game.”

“Don’t be like that,” he urged. “You’ll end up weak and all skinny tomorrow.”

A brief silence fell before you quipped, “I’m trying to go on a diet anyway, so it’s fine.”

Dae-ho scoffed, waving off your excuse. “Haih, you look beautiful already. Now get up-”

“It’s okay,” Young-il’s calm voice interrupted unexpectedly. “You two go on ahead. The queues are getting long. I’ll persuade her.”

The sound of retreating footsteps followed as Dae-ho and Jun-hee headed off toward the dinner queues. The dormitory buzzed with chatter and movement, but your focus remained on the quiet presence sitting at the edge of your bed.

“You really should eat,” he said after a moment, his tone gentle. “You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”

You sighed, not turning to face him. “I’m just so done to even think about food. I wanted to go home really bad but we were outvoted.”

There was a pause before the bed shifted as Young-il stood up. His footsteps faded into the background, and you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the strange ache in your chest – a pang of something like abandonment. By him.

You immediately shook off the thought. It wasn’t his fault. You were the one adamant about not eating, and he had respected your decision. You had no right to feel upset, and you certainly couldn’t blame him for the fact that you had a crush on him.

Maybe he just saw you as a friend. Someone to look out for, like Jun-hee. Nothing more. It was your own fault for letting your feelings get in the way, for reading into his kind gestures as something more than they were.

You tried to tune out the chatter and bustle of the dormitory, sinking into the quiet within your mind. For a fleeting moment, you felt yourself drifting close to sleep.

Then his voice broke through the haze. “[Your name].”

Your eyes fluttered open, the sting of fatigue making them ache. You turned your head and saw Young-il standing by your bed. In his hands, he held the evening’s dinner: a round bun and a small carton of milk.

You frowned, confusion overtaking your grogginess. You had thought he left for good after respecting your persistence.

Resting your cheek against the pillow, you mumbled, “I don’t want to eat your dinner. Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s not mine,” he said, his tone even. “It’s yours.”

Your gaze shifted to the food in his hands. He held two sets of the dinner: two buns and two cartons of milk. Surprise overtook you as you sat up slowly, your blanket slipping down. “You got two?”

“I took another set on your behalf,” he admitted, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Your eyes widened. “We can do that?”

His smile grew, and there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t.”

You blinked, completely perplexed. “Then how did you get two?”

He extended the dinner toward you again, waiting patiently.

“I know what to say to the guards. My line of work taught me how,” he said simply, leaving the specifics a mystery.

You stared at him, caught between disbelief and reluctant admiration, before reaching out to take the meal he had gone out of his way to bring you.

“Now, come,” Young-il said, gesturing toward the corner where you always hung out with Gi-hun and the others. “Let’s sit with the others.”

You glanced down at the bun and carton of milk in your hands before nodding. As you got up from the bed, you spoke to him, “But is this really all we’re getting for dinner? I thought it’d be as much as yesterday’s lunch.”

Walking side by side toward the corner, Young-il replied, “It’s a way to weaken the players and increase eliminations.”

You turned to him, eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you saying the longer we stay here, the less food we’ll get?”

Young-il met your gaze, his expression thoughtful. “It looks that way. Yesterday, we had a bountiful lunch. Tonight, it’s just a bun. The pattern isn’t hard to see.”

You sighed in frustration, the weight of his words settling in. “That makes it even more important to leave this place as soon as possible.”

Reaching the corner, you were greeted enthusiastically by Dae-ho. “You two, come sit down!”

Gi-hun had sat at his usual spot at the far end, and you settled down beside him. Young-il took the place on your other side. Dae-ho and Jun-hee were already seated on the lower steps in front of you both, their postures relaxed.

You glanced around and noticed that your group was missing one member – Jung-bae. A small distance away, you spotted him tucked between the bunk beds as though he was deliberately hiding.

You assumed he felt guilty for voting O, isolating himself from the group out of shame.

You and Young-il began eating your buns in silence. Everyone in your group was eating, except for Gi-hun. His posture – legs wide, arms resting heavily on his knees – spoke volumes about his disappointment over the recent voting results.

A loud sigh from Dae-ho broke the quiet. He stared at Jung-bae’s back for a moment, chewing on his bun, before calling out to him with the familiar hyungnim honorific. “Jung-bae!”

Meanwhile, you sighed at the meager dinner, placing your left elbow on your knee and resting your forehead against your palm. Your right hand held the bun, and you murmured, “Just this bun alone won’t be enough.”

Dae-ho suddenly stood and strode over to Jung-bae. “Hey, just come back here.”

“No, no, I’m good here,” Jung-bae replied, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, come on,” Dae-ho said, grasping his arm firmly. He pulled Jung-bae to his feet and dragged him back to the group. “You should’ve gone farther away, then. It bugs me seeing you sitting there all pathetic.”

Jung-bae froze when they reached the group. His eyes darted between the three most visibly stressed members of the group – Gi-hun with his somber stance, you with your hand still resting on your face, and Young-il sitting with his legs spread, elbows on his knees, chewing silently. None of you looked at him.

“I’m sorry,” Jung-bae said, fidgeting nervously with his milk carton. “Jun-hee, [Your name], Young-il, I’m sorry. Gi-hun, I’m sorry.”

When no one responded, he continued. “I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors are harassing my ex-wife and kid. If I play one more game, I think I’ll be able to settle my debt. So-”

“Jung-bae,” Young-il interrupted, his tone calm. “You of all people shouldn’t have done it. It’s not twice as righteous.”

Young-il’s comment was a pointed reference to the meaning of Jung-bae’s name. You removed your hand from your face, took a bite of the bun, and stayed quiet.

Young-il sighed, glancing briefly at the others before adding, “But, looking at the results, even if you had voted against, we would still have been outvoted.”

“Right?” Jung-bae said quickly, leaning toward Young-il with a glimmer of relief. “It’s not entirely my fault.”

Dae-ho placed a hand on Jung-bae’s shoulder, his tone lighter now. “Alright, to be honest, I understand why you did it. The money isn’t enough for me either, so when I went up to vote, I did think about playing one more game.”

Jung-bae’s face lit up with sudden relief, and before anyone could react, he lunged forward and hugged Dae-ho head-on. Startled, Dae-ho awkwardly tried to push him away.

“You did?” Jung-bae exclaimed.

“I said I get it,” Dae-ho replied, finally managing to pry himself free.

Jung-bae turned to Young-il, sighing deeply.

“Thank you for understanding,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. He settled on the lower staircase next to Young-il and continued, “But I voted in favor partly because I feel confident. We did so well as a team, didn’t we? If we stick together one more time, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

He turned toward Jun-hee, his voice brimming with confidence. “Jun-hee, I’ll make sure we survive the next game-”

“The next game?”

All of you froze and looked at Gi-hun. His tone was dark. “In the next game, we might have to kill each other.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. You stared at him, horrified. Could it really come to that? Could there be games where you’d have to compete against your friends? The thought made your stomach churn. You’d barely eaten, and now even the bun in your hand felt like a weight.

Young-il’s calm voice broke the silence. “Gi-hun, that’s a bit much. There’s nothing we can do now, so let’s try to stay positive.”

Despite his attempt to ease the tension, Jung-bae had gone pale as well. He swallowed nervously, his hands fidgeting with his milk carton.

Young-il continued, his voice steady, “We should eat, pull ourselves together, and try our best again.”

But Gi-hun’s words lingered, casting a shadow over the group. Everyone, including you, sat in heavy silence, lost in their thoughts. The idea of being pitted against your teammates felt unbearable. Your appetite vanished completely, and the bun in your hand now seemed like an impossible task to finish.

Could Gi-hun have experienced such a game in his previous run? Had he been forced to turn on a friend here? The questions swirled in your mind, filling you with dread.

Then you felt it – a hand gently resting on your knee. Startled, you looked down and saw Young-il’s hand. When you glanced up at him, his expression was warm and reassuring. He gave you a small nod toward your unfinished bun and said softly, “Eat it whole. Let’s do our best again tomorrow.”

Young-il withdrew his hand from your knee and held out his milk carton to Jun-hee. “Here, Jun-hee. You can have mine too. Hang in there until the next game.”

Jun-hee hesitated. “No, it’s okay.”

“Take it,” Young-il insisted gently. “I don’t drink plain milk.”

After a moment, Jun-hee finally accepted the milk, though her reluctance was still evident. You couldn’t help but smile warmly at the gesture. The way Young-il looked after Jun-hee was heartwarming. He must’ve been a good husband, you thought.

“Thank you,” Jun-hee said softly.

Jung-bae suddenly held out his bun to her. “Have my bread too. I don’t deserve to eat.”

Dae-ho immediately pointed at Jung-bae’s milk. “I’ll take your milk then.”

Jung-bae shot him a pointed stare, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and annoyance.

You had just exited the women’s restrooms and stepped back into the dormitory when you saw them. Lingering near the door that connected the restroom to the dormitory stood Lee Min-jae and his two friends.

Min-jae noticed you immediately and waved. You hesitated for a moment before offering a small, uncertain wave in return. Hoping to avoid further interaction, you continued toward the corner where the rest of your group was seated.

However, your heart sank when Min-jae and his friends moved deliberately to block your path. The dormitory was vast, filled with hundreds of players, so you didn’t feel afraid. Still, you silently hoped they wouldn’t press you again.

Min-jae greeted you with a bright smile. “Hey there. I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh,” you replied, feigning innocence. “Hi, Min-jae.”

He stepped slightly closer, his tone friendly. “So, are you free to hang out with us now? We’ve got a spot over there.”

He paused, gesturing vaguely toward a corner of the dormitory where his group had set up.

You hesitated, searching for a way out without offending him. “I… uh, I need to get back to my group first. They’re waiting for me.”

Min-jae’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a hint of frustration in his eyes. “It’ll just be for a little while. You can catch up with them later. Come on, I just want to get to know you better in a private spot.”

“I… I don’t know. I really should-”

Min-jae’s tone grew firmer, though he kept up his friendly demeanor. “Don’t be like that. Just for a bit. It’s just us hanging out. No harm, right?”

Min-jae’s friends were watching you intently, though their expressions remained neutral. You forced a polite smile, knowing that one wrong word or tone could create a vengeful enemy in this precarious game.

You said carefully. “Maybe later. I just need to check on my group first.”

But Min-jae’s grin didn’t waver. If anything, it grew more hardened and insistent as he stepped closer to you. “Please? Just a quick chat with us. You’ve been hanging out with those uncles all day. Switch it up for a bit.”

Before you could respond, one of his friends – the tall man with number 277 – joined in. “Yeah, come on. We’re not asking for much. Just a little time to get to know you better.”

“Exactly,” chimed in the other friend, player 304. “It’s not like we’re asking you to stay forever. Just stop by. We’ve got a good spot over there.”

Their persistence made your chest tighten. You forced another smile, trying to remain composed. “I appreciate the offer, but really, I need to get back. Maybe another time.”

“Why not now?” Min-jae pressed, his tone still friendly.

As you searched for another polite excuse, a cold, steady voice cut through the conversation.

“She said no.”

You turned quickly, your eyes landing on Young-il. He was striding toward you. His gaze was fixed on Min-jae, sharp and unyielding. Although his expression seemed calm, a quiet intensity simmered beneath the surface. The restrained fury in his eyes made you speechless. It’s like he was ready to act the moment it became necessary.

Min-jae’s smile faltered slightly, though he tried to recover. “Oh, hey. We just want to have a chat with her. It's okay, right?”

Young-il moved deliberately, stepping between you and Min-jae with an air of quiet authority. His back faced you, shielding you from them. Though his expression remained calm, there was a palpable edge to his presence that made the air feel heavier.

“You’re pressuring her,” he said evenly, his voice carrying a subtle warning. “That’s not how conversations work.”

Silence settled over the group like a heavy weight. Min-jae’s friends exchanged uncertain glances, their earlier confidence clearly shaken.

You couldn’t help but stare at Young-il’s broad shoulders, struck by the way he carried himself. He didn’t need to raise his voice or show aggression; the calm intensity in his posture spoke volumes.

Min-jae hesitated, his expression flickering between defiance and calculation, before forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. With a mock gesture of surrender, he raised his hands and said, “Alright, alright. I get it. I apologize. I didn’t realize I was being forceful.”

His attempt to glance past Young-il toward you betrayed his unease, though. He called your name softly, adding, “Sorry about that.”

Young-il held his gaze, the silence stretching as he stared at Min-jae with deliberate calm. Then, with a slight turn of his head, his expression softened as he looked at you. He gestured subtly, his voice steady. “Let’s go.”

You followed Young-il as he led the way back to the corner where your group had gathered. His stride was steady, and though he didn’t say anything, his presence alone made you feel a little more at ease. You glanced back briefly to check if Min-jae and his friends were following, but they were nowhere in sight, already lost in the dormitory’s usual buzz of activity.

Just as the two of you were about to reach your group, Young-il gently grasped your forearm, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

You nodded quickly. “Yes. Thank you.”

His gaze lingered on you, his tone shifting slightly as he asked, “How does he know your name?”

There was an edge to his words, though it didn’t feel like it was directed at you.

“He asked during the voting earlier,” you explained simply. “We were in the crowd, and he came over and introduced himself.”

Young-il’s eyes studied yours, moving from your left eye to your right, then briefly to your lips. You froze under the intensity of his gaze, unsure of what to make of it. After a few seconds that felt much longer, his focus shifted back to your left eye.

He finally lowered his gaze and said firmly, “If those boys bother you again, tell me.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. His gesture sent a wave of warmth through you, and you felt that familiar flutter in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach. He is really worried about you.

But even as you stood there, you couldn’t forget the fact that he was married. As close as you two had become, he’d never once mentioned it to you.

You averted your gaze, creating a small but deliberate space between you and Young-il.

“Thanks, but don’t worry. I can take care of myself,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. The pause lingered, and though you didn’t look his way, you could feel his confusion, as if he was trying to make sense of your sudden distance. Without waiting for a reply, you joined the group, sliding into the spot next to Jun-hee. Behind you, Young-il remained standing, silent and likely still perplexed.

As the group fell into casual conversation, you focused on Jun-hee, Jung-bae and Dae-ho, purposefully keeping your interactions away from Young-il. Whenever he made a comment directed at you or tried to reassure you about something, you responded with a polite smile but didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, you turned your attention to someone else, engaging them in light talk to avoid any further connection.

This is for the best. For you, for him, and for his wife.

“Lights out in ten minutes,” the announcer informed, the voice echoing through the dormitory. “Please prepare for bedtime.”

Your group was in the middle of executing Gi-hun’s plan. The idea was to claim four beds in one spot to create a secure sleeping area underneath the beds and on the floor between them. Everyone had agreed to the plan, though not without a few questions.

The men were handling the heavier tasks, carrying and arranging the mattresses and securing the area, while you and Jun-hee carried pillows and blankets, standing off to the side as they worked.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there,” Jung-bae said, his tone doubtful.

Gi-hun explained, “Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us.”

Dae-ho, crouching beside Jun-hee, looked over with wide eyes. “What? Who?”

Meanwhile, Young-il approached you and gestured for the pillows and blankets in your arms. You handed them to him one by one, watching as he placed them on the mattresses.

“The prize money still goes up if we kill each other,” Gi-hun continued. “It’s part of the game they designed.”

Young-il, now standing after arranging a mattress on the floor under one of the beds, spoke up, “Gi-hun, I think you’re overreacting. Even if that were true, people wouldn’t do that.”

Gi-hun’s gaze sharpened as he stared at Young-il. “In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here.”

He stepped closer to Young-il, his tone firm. “You have no idea how people can change in this place.”

You stared at them, noticing the tension in Gi-hun’s face and posture. Young-il paused before nodding apologetically. “Alright. I guess I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m sorry.”

Gi-hun gave Young-il one last look before turning back to address the group. “We need to take turns keeping watch after lights-out. I’ll take the first watch. The rest of you should decide the order.”

You exchanged glances with the others. Dae-ho was the first to speak up. “Other than that, we have to figure out who’s sleeping where.”

Jung-bae pointed to the floor between the beds. “Jun-hee should sleep here, near the wall, surrounded by beds. It’ll be safer.”

“Then I’ll take the spot under the bed beside her,” Dae-ho said, glancing at Jun-hee for confirmation. “If that’s okay with you.”

Jun-hee nodded. “I’m okay with that.”

“I’ll take the spot under the bed on the other side of Jun-hee,” Jung-bae added. “It’s best to have two ex-Marines covering your sides.”

Jun-hee smiled in response.

Young-il turned to you, his voice soft. “Which spot do you want to take?”

You paused, glancing at the arrangement before pointing to the space directly under Jun-hee. “I’ll take the middle floor.”

That left the beds on either side of you empty until Young-il spoke up. “I’ll sleep under the bed on your left. That means Gi-hun will take the one on your right.”

“Now we just have to decide the order for keeping watch,” Dae-ho said, looking around the group.

“I’ll take the second watch, after Gi-hun,” Jung-bae said quickly.

Dae-ho raised his hand. “Third watch here.”

You spoke up just as Young-il reached to grab the leftover pillows and blanket from your arms. “Can I keep watch too?”

All eyes turned to you, surprise clear on their faces.

“How about the last watch?” you added. “I can wake up early.”

Dae-ho was the first to respond. “Ladies don’t have to. You and Jun-hee should take a full rest.”

“Yeah, no need for you to worry about keeping watch,” Jung-bae chimed in. “We’ve got this.”

You hesitated, feeling their protective tone press against your resolve.

“But it’s fine if I take the last watch,” you said, lowering your gaze briefly. “I want to freshen up before the next game anyway.”

Dae-ho and Jung-bae exchanged glances, clearly about to argue, when Young-il’s calm voice cut through. “Okay, you take the last watch.”

Everyone turned to him in confusion, while you blinked at him in surprise. Young-il glanced at the others briefly before settling his gaze on you.

“I’ll take the fourth watch, after Dae-ho,” he said evenly. “Then it’s your turn. But I’ll keep watch with you. It’s not safe for you to do it alone.”

The group nodded in agreement and that was the end of discussion. You, however, stayed quiet, your thoughts swirling. Young-il’s calm decision left you unsettled. The idea of him accompanying you brought a flutter of nerves you couldn’t quite suppress. You’d been trying to create some distance, to remind yourself of his marriage. Yet here he was, volunteering to accompany you.

It left you torn. A part of you appreciated his thoughtfulness. But another part of you couldn’t shake the complicated feelings his actions stirred, leaving you wondering how you’d handle the quiet hours of your shared watch.

A few minutes passed as the six of you settled into your designated spots. The announcer’s voice broke through the murmurs in the dormitory to announce bedtime. Moments later, the lights switched off, leaving the soft golden glow of the half-filled piggy bank overhead to dimly illuminate the vast room.

Dae-ho and Jung-bae were already lying under the beds, while Jun-hee rested on the mattress positioned on the open floor between them.

“This sucks,” Jung-bae muttered from his spot. “Feels like I’m hiding under my old desk at school.”

Dae-ho chuckled softly. “Pretend it’s a fun sleepover. We’re just missing the snacks and ghost stories.”

As their quiet exchange continued, you glanced over and noticed Gi-hun was sitting at the front, keeping watch.

Then, you felt a presence close beside you. Turning your head, you saw Young-il crouched beside you on your mattress on the open floor. He paused, glancing at you apologetically as he moved to sit down.

“Sorry,” he muttered, referring to him intruding your space.

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

Young-il shifted onto the edge of your mattress before sliding onto his own spot under the bed beside you. You watched as he settled in before you finally lay down and pulled the blanket over yourself.

The space felt smaller now, the awareness of his presence lingering. You never thought you’d be this close to him, sharing such confined quarters. But as the thought crossed your mind, you pushed it away quickly. He’s married. You shouldn’t let yourself think about him like this.

You closed your eyes, wishing for sleep to come quickly and pull you away from your restless thoughts.

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones!

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[the-offside-rule]

Castiel Novak (Supernatural) - Baby Winchester

Requested: yes

Prompt: Cas being like a guardian angel to Y/n and Dean's baby

Warnings: none

Y/n stirred awake to the faint sound of her daughter’s cries through the baby monitor. She squinted at the clock on the nightstand; 3:14 am. Beside her, Dean was sprawled on his stomach, snoring softly, clearly exhausted from his recent hunting trip. She sighed, her heart swelling with affection. He needed rest. Silently, she reached over, turned off the baby monitor, and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "Thisis for your own good, Winchester." She whispered before slipping out of bed.

Padding softly down the hall, she stopped at her daughter’s room. The dim nightlight cast a soft glow across the nursery, and her breath hitched when she noticed someone standing by the crib. "You know, peopleusually knock before they come in." She said, gently knocking on the doorframe. Castiel turned sharply, startled. "Y/n. I apologize. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll leave now." She stepped inside, her expression calm. "It’s okay. What are you doing here?" Castiel shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering back to the baby. "I… thought something was wrong." He said, but the lie was transparent, his usual stoicism faltering. Y/n chuckled softly. "Cas, you’re a terrible liar. What’s really going on?"

He sighed, looking at the baby. "It… has no arms." Y/n blinked before realizing what he meant. "Oh no, Cas. She’s swaddled. Here, look." She gently unwrapped the blanket, freeing her daughter’s tiny arms. "See? She’s fine." Castiel tilted his head, his intense blue eyes studying the baby. "Ah. I see. My mistake." He stepped back awkwardly. "Well, if I’m not needed-"

"Wait-" Y/n interrupted, her tone warm. "I need to feed her anyway. Would you like to hold her and feed her downstairs?" His eyes widened slightly. "You would trust me with this?" Y/n chuckled at the ever-so-serious face Cas had made so many times before. "Of course. You're a literal angel." She said, scooping her daughter up. "Come on." He hesitated, then nodded, following her downstairs.

In the living room, Castiel perched stiffly on the armchair, glancing around the cozy space as Y/n went to the kitchen to prepare a bottle. When she returned, she handed him the baby, guiding him on how to hold her properly. "Like this." She said, adjusting his hands. "Support her head." After a moment, he frowned. "No, no. Take it back. I fear I might break it." Y/n laughed softly. "Cas, you won’t break....it. Just relax." She handed him the bottle. "Now, feed her."

Castiel began feeding her, his expression softening as he watched the baby suckle. "Oh wow. Humans are remarkable." He murmured. "So fragile, yet so resilient. Especially the little ones." Y/n smiled, settling onto the couch. "You’re practically human yourself, Cas. You’re pretty remarkable too."

Before Castiel could respond, footsteps creaked on the stairs, and Dean appeared, holding a crowbar. His serious expression melted into one of surprise when he saw Castiel feeding their daughter. "What the hell’s going on?" Dean asked, setting the crowbar down. "Why’d you turn off the baby monitor? I thought something was wrong." Y/n shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I wanted you to get some sleep. You looked exhausted."

"Why’d you say that this was for my own good? I thought you were possessed or something." Dean added. "And ypu didn't stop me then and there? You figured an extra ten minutes of beauty sleep would've helped you fight a demon better?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze shifting to Castiel. "And what’s he doing here?" Y/n grinned. "Found us a babysitter." Castiel looked up. "I would be adequate for that position."

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "As long as you don’t teach her any bad habits." Y/n scoffed, smirking at Dean. "I’d trust Cas to be a better influence than you." Dean smirked back, dropping onto the couch beside her. "You'd trust Cas?" She nodded. "I like Cas." Dean grabbed the remote and pulled her in closer. "You like me a lot too though, right?" She didn't answer, instead she grinned over to Cas. "Don’t give him that look. I know you two are gonna plot something against me soon enough."

"What? You don't live with Sam anymore so I can't plot anythin with him anytime soon."

[szariahwroteit]

Doll House: A Jude Bellingham + Original Character Erotic Series

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 5

Tori allowed a day to slip by following the night of the party. Although her mind was tethered to Jude, the reason for her journey to Dubai, she needed a moment to gather her thoughts and find some clarity amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. The vibrant city stretched out around her, but she felt the need to pause, breathe, and reflect.

However, the next morning, Jude woke up with a newfound determination. There was only one day left of the year, and while he didn’t care for resolutions or using the start of the calendar year to try and implement change, he refused to go into the new year existing in such an awkward space with Tori. They were so new that Jude wouldn’t call what they were amid growing pains, but he knew it was a hurdle they had to get over together if they wanted to be in each other’s lives.

He understood how daunting his life may have seemed and how sought after he was by women, but he also needed Tori to understand that it was her he wanted.

As one of the most heavily documented footballers of the current generation with a star power that only seemed to be going from strength 

to strength, women came in droves, but having options didn't mean much when there was already someone in his line of sight. 

Slipping on his sneakers, Jude stood from his seat on the edge of his plush hotel bed, grabbing his phone and wallet before stepping out of his suite. 

Letting out a breath he'd been holding, Jude made his way towards Tori’s room, his palms clammy despite the coolness of the hotel corridor. 

She'd texted him around an hour prior letting Jude know she was awake, but that had been their first interaction since the night of the party in his teammate's hotel suite. 

She’d spent the day before ignoring every call and message he sent her, only reading them before closing out of the chat. 

Although it wasn't in Jude’s intentions to hurt her, he was man enough to acknowledge how careless he'd been and as possessive and ego-driven as it may have sounded, it wasn't until he saw Tpri with Alex that he fully realized the error of his actions. 

To even see her standing beside another man made Jude’s skin crawl and adding insult to injury Alex had an arrogance about him that Jude didn't care for at all. 

With each step towards Tori's room, Jude's heart raced. The sound of his footsteps echoed softly in the quiet corridor, mirroring the internal chaos brewing within him. He thought back to the moment he recognized his feelings for her—how genuine her laughter was, how her eyes sparkled with excitement, and how she brought a sense of warmth into his otherwise chaotic life.

Reaching her door, he paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. He wanted to be honest, to lay everything out on the table, but he also didn't want to come off as desperate or overbearing. He had to strike a balance between vulnerability and strength. 

Before he could second-guess himself, he knocked gently. A few moments passed, and just as he was about to knock again, the door swung open, revealing Tori. She looked beautiful, her hair tousled messy bun and her eyes slightly puffy from sleep. There was a hint of surprise etched on her face, but it quickly faded into an unreadable expression.

“Hey,” Jude said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Can we talk?”

Tori hesitated but then stepped aside to let him in. The air was thick with unspoken words as he entered the room. She stood a few feet away, her arms crossed defensively over her chest as if shielding herself from whatever was about to transpire.

“I should have been more considerate of your feelings, I should have been more attentive and the last thing I want is for you to feel as if I’m just dragging you along for the ride.” Jude took a deep breath, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his emotions. 

“I know I messed up. But I also can't ignore the fact that I feel like you're holding back or anticipating me fucking up,” he continued. 

“I’m not waiting for you to fuck up, Jude I have no idea what I’m doing,” Tori attempted to explain. 

Jude took a step closer, his desire to bridge the gap between them almost palpable. “Then help me understand,” he urged, his voice softer now. “Because I want to be around you.”

Tori looked into Jude’s eyes, searching for answers, for reassurance, for something to break the tension that clung to the room like a thick fog. His sincerity was evident, yet doubt still clouded her thoughts. “The world is yours to do as you please with, the other night made me realize that and it's unfair of me to expect you to change anything about your world because I'm uncomfortable.”

They’d only known each other a few short weeks, but those weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions and unpredictability. Everything that had happened between them thus far has stemmed from impulse and raw attraction to one another, but eventually, they had to be real with themselves and for Tori; this was that. 

“I get that, Tori,” Jude replied, his voice steady despite internally trying to keep his frustration at bay. “But just because I can do something doesn't mean I will, I have self-control.” 

“I never said you didn't,” Tori shot back, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. 

“That’s what it feels like you're getting at.” Jude leaned in slightly, trying to gauge her reaction. “You’re implying that my lifestyle somehow dictates what I should want, or who I should be. But that's not the case, not with you. I need you to see that.” 

The charged atmosphere hung between them, heavy with expectation. Tori took a deep breath, the fight in her eyes softening momentarily as she considered his words. “I just don’t want to end up being another woman in your life, Jude. I want to matter to you—not just because I’m a different kind of distraction.” 

Jude shook his head firmly, his expression earnest. “You already do matter to me. You’re not a distraction. Being with you feels real, and that’s what terrifies me and excites me all at once. I want to make this work, but I need you to meet me halfway.” 

Tori dropped her arms, the defensiveness slowly peeling away. The vulnerability in Jude's eyes tugged at her heart. She could feel the sincerity of his desire, how he was trying to carve out a space for both of them amidst a storm of external pressures. 

“Halfway…” she murmured, the thought lingering in the air. 

“Yes,” he urged. “Let’s be honest with each other. I won’t pretend that it’s easy for either of us, especially with my world. But if you’re willing to try then I'm here.”

Tori felt a knot in her stomach loosen just a bit with Jude's words. They felt genuine, the kind of honesty that could either lead to something beautiful—or something painful. But she wanted to lay down her fears, to strip away the layers of uncertainty that had built up between them. “I want to try too,” she said finally, her voice steadying. “But I need you to understand where I’m coming from. I can’t just dive in without knowing if we’re on the same page.” 

Jude nodded, his expression softening. “Tell me what you need to know.” 

Taking a deep breath, Tori plunged into vulnerability, the words tumbling out. “I just need you to see with me. I'm not asking for constant reassurance, I just want to know that we’re exploring this together, to understand what we both want.”

Jude took a moment to process her words, his heart swelling with the weight of her honesty. “Tori, I want you,” he said firmly.

“If by chance that changes, please just—” Before Tori could complete her thought, Jude swiftly moved forward, enveloping her in his embrace. His arms wrapped securely around her, pulling her close as his lips crashed against hers, the intensity of the kiss catching her off guard. It was a fierce, passionate connection, igniting a spark that surged between them.

Tori felt herself melt into Jude, losing track of the worries that had weighed so heavily on her mind just moments before. The kiss was all-consuming, filling the room with a warmth that pushed away all thoughts of uncertainty. She could taste the determination in his kiss, the promise of sincerity that lingered in the air around them.

As they pulled apart slightly, she could feel Jude's heart beating against her chest, a rhythm that matched the unrest of emotions swirling within her. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and intense, searching her expression for any sign of hesitation. 

“I won't change my world, Tori,” he said quietly, his voice just above a whisper, “but I want to invite you into it. I need you to trust me.”

Tori nodded slowly, grappling with the flood of emotions rushing through her. Fear, exhilaration, longing—it was all entangled within her, but she found solace in Jude's presence. “I want to trust you, Jude,” she admitted, looking up at him, “I just need to know that you see me.”

He stepped back slightly but kept his hands on her arms, grounding her. “I see you,” he insisted, his voice sincere.

“Then can you kiss me again?” Jude's lips curled into a smirk, a playful glint sparking in his eyes at her request. He took a step closer again, his grip on her arms tightening just a fraction before he gently tilted her chin up. The air between them felt electric, charged with an undeniable chemistry that had been simmering since they first met.

“Are you sure?” he teased, though the sincerity in his tone was evident. He wanted to ensure that she was ready for whatever this connection could bring—because he certainly was.

With a soft breath, Tori nodded, her heart racing in anticipation. The nervousness in her stomach began to dissipate, replaced with an exhilarating rush that accompanied Jude’s every movement. He leaned closer, his breath warming her skin, and then his lips met hers once more in a slow, deliberate kiss.

It started gentle, a tentative exploration, a soft brush of lips that spoke of longing. But as the kiss deepened, it morphed into something more urgent and impassioned. Jude’s hands found their way to her waist, lifting her so he could carry her over to the bed. 

Tori couldn't help but giggle as Jude positioned himself above her, his strong hands framing her face. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin, and gently captured the delicate curve of her neck between his teeth, sending a shiver down her spine. The playful intimacy of the moment filled the air with a charged tension that made her heart race.

“All I want is to make you smile,” Jude murmured against her skin, his right hand moving from beside her head to grip her hip holding her in place. 

“I think you do a good job most of the time,” Tori smirked, reaching up to run her fingers through Jude’s coils as she looked into his eyes. 

“Most of the time?” he repeated in mock offence. 

“Most of the time,” Tori confirmed. “For example when you're at parties receiving lap dances, I'm not too hot on you,” she said, making Jude frown playfully before pushing his face back into the crease of her neck. 

“Okay, I deserve that one,” Jude admitted, his voice muffled against her skin. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling in the intimate space between them. “But, can I make you moan?” he asked, a playful challenge dancing in his eyes.

Tori's breath hitched, her heart racing at the sudden turn of the conversation. The boldness in his question sent heat pooling in her stomach, igniting an undeniable desire within her. She met his gaze, searching for sincerity among the playful banter, and found it. Jude wasn’t just teasing; he genuinely wanted to know.

“Depends on how you plan to do it,” she shot back, teasingly raising an eyebrow, her confidence blossoming in the aftermath of their heightened emotions.

“I want to taste you,” Jude whispered hotly into her ear. 

“Is that so?” she replied, her voice sultry, laced with intrigue as she arched an eyebrow, daring him to make his move. 

“Absolutely,” Jude affirmed, his confidence unwavering. He shifted his weight ever so slightly, his body pressing closer to hers. “Let me show you how I plan to make you moan.”

With that, he trailed his lips down the side of her neck, savouring the taste of her skin as his hand reached between them to pull apart her robe, cupping her breast. Tori gasped, every nerve in her body igniting under his caress. The sensation was rousing, the promise of what was to come sending spirals of desire coursing through her.

“Jude,” she breathed the warmth of his mouth on her skin, sending a tingle down her spine. 

“Relax,” he breathed out, his lips and tongue continuing their exploration, trailing lower, sending waves of pleasure shooting through her. His fingers danced over her soft skin, igniting a fire that made her pulse quicken.

“Just let me enjoy you,” he murmured, his breath hot against her as he settled between her legs, raising her left leg to come and rest over her shoulder so she lay completely exposed to him, the space around them fading into a blur of colour and sound, leaving only the two of them.

Tori let out a breathless moan as Jude pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her pussy, groaning as he got his first taste of her on his tongue. 

The sensation rocked through Tori like a bolt of lightning, her body instinctively responding to the warmth and pressure of his mouth. She gasped as he explored her with slow, deliberate movements, his tongue dancing over her sensitive folds, teasing her in a way that made her forget everything else around them.

Jude’s eyes flicked up to meet with hers as she felt his lips spread into a smile against her before he went to work on her.

Tori’s hand reached up to cover her mouth as a means of silencing her moans as Jude feasted on her pussy, his skin slippery against hers from a combination of his saliva and her arousal. 

The sounds that came from his ministrations were lewd, he sucked and slurped on Tori as her back arched from the bed completely intoxicated by her. 

Her senses were overwhelmed, the way Jude's mouth moved with expert preciseness sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. The air was electric with tension, the intensity of their connection radiating like a wildfire, each gasp she stifled only fueling the fire within. As her breath hitched, her fingers tightened in his hair, guiding him closer, craving more of the intoxicating sensations he created. Every flick of his tongue sent her spiralling deeper into ecstasy, and at that moment, nothing else mattered but the connection they shared, lost in a world of indulgent pleasure.

“You have such a pretty pussy,” Jude groaned, leaning back a little to make room so he could use his thumbs to spread her open, gathering saliva on the end of his tongue before allowing it to drip from his mouth onto her. 

Tori gasped softly at the improper compliment, a rush of heat flooding her cheeks and spreading lower, intensifying the throbbing ache between her thighs.

"Take it," she managed to murmur, her voice breathy and laced with desire.

As if to emphasize her point, Tori's hips tilted upward, offering herself to him more fully. The cool air kissed her damp folds, a stark contrast to the burning heat of Jude's gaze as he took in the sight of her splayed out before him.

"Please," she whimpered, the word escaping her lips before she could stop it. Her fingers tightened in his hair, not quite demanding, but urging him to continue.

At that moment, Tori felt wild, uninhibited, and completely surrendered to the sensations coursing through her body as she watched Jude stand from the bed to remove his clothes before grabbing his wallet and retrieving a condom from it.

“I want you inside of me,” Tori's eyes fluttered open, meeting Jude's gaze with an intensity that stole his breath away. "Please Jude," she whispered, her voice rough with need. "I want to feel you inside me."

She reached for him, her fingers trailing down his chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You’re so beautiful," she murmured, her voice slightly deepening with desire.

Tori's hips lifted off the bed, a silent invitation, an offering of her body and soul. Her legs spread wider, a clear display of her readiness, her need for him.

"Take me," she breathed, the words both a plea and a command. "Make me yours."

In that moment, Tori was lost to everything except the fire burning within her, the aching void that only Jude could fill. She needed him with an intensity that consumed her, obliterating any remnants of doubt or hesitation.

Crawling on top of her petite and slender, yet dangerously curvaceous body Jude led with his tongue as parted her lips so she could taste herself. 

As Jude's tongue parted Tori's lips, she moaned softly, the taste of her own arousal mingling with the unique flavour of Jude. It was a heady combination, one that sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through her body.

Tori's arms wrapped around Jude's neck, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss. Her tongue danced with his, exploring every inch of his mouth with a fervour that matched the intensity of their earlier passion.

Lost in the heat of the moment, Tori arched her back, pressing her body flush against Jude's. She could feel every contour of his muscular frame, the hard planes of his chest rubbing against the soft swells of her breasts.

The friction of their bodies moving together stoked the fire within Tori, her skin tingling with anticipation. She needed more, craved the feel of Jude's hands on her body, his touch igniting a trail of sparks wherever he caressed her.

Their bodies undulated together, a sensual dance fueled by primal need. Tori's hands explored Jude's back, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, marvelling at the strength that lay beneath his skin.

Jude groaned against her lips, the sound muffled by their kiss. His hands roamed her body, skimming over the dip of her waist, and the flare of her hips, before coming to rest on the soft curves of her ass. 

With a firm squeeze, Jude lifted Tori's hips, angling them so that he could slide into her with one smooth thrust. The sensation was indescribable, a perfect reunion of flesh on flesh that left them both gasping for breath.

“Tori, you feel fucking perfect,” Jude groaned into the crease of her neck, his hand slipping from her to wrap around her thighs and pin her to the bed beneath him. 

Jude had never considered himself a man with sadistic tendencies, but where sex with Tori was concerned; she possessed an innocence he wanted to ruin and protect all at once. 

She was so submissive to pleasure, both giving and receiving and all he wanted to do was explore that—explore her. 

Tori's body arched into Jude's touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips as he filled her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, bordering on painful in its intensity, yet Tori welcomed it, craving more.

"Ah!" Tori let out a throaty cry as Jude slammed deep into her, the sudden fullness stealing her breath. "God, yes! Fuck me harder, Jude!"

Tori's nails raked down Jude's back, her fingers digging into his skin as she urged him on. Her hips bucked against his, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervour, driving them both closer to the brink of ecstasy. 

"You're so fucking tight," Jude grunted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "So good, baby." Tori's head fell back against the pillows, her dark hair fanning out around her like a halo.

“Get on top, I want to watch your beautiful little body while you ride me,” Jude continued, raising his head so he could look into her eyes. 

Tori hesitated, her eyes widening slightly at his request for a change in position. She wasn't used to taking the lead in the bedroom, preferring to let him guide her. 

But there was something about Jude's command, the way he looked at her with such raw desire, that made her want to please him, to give him exactly what he wanted.

Slowly, carefully, Tori manoeuvred herself into a straddling position, her knees on either side of Jude's hips. She could feel the heat of his body, the hard length of him pressing against her core, and it sent a shiver of anticipation through her.

As Tori lowered herself onto Jude's cock, she couldn't help but moan softly at the sensation of being filled, stretched, and consumed by him. Her walls clenched around him as if trying to keep him inside her, never to let him go.

Tori’s mouth fell open in a silent cry, her eyes locking with Jude’s as he raised his hips beneath her, the head of his cock kissing firmly against her cervix. 

A rush of sensations flooded Tori’s body, the fullness igniting every nerve ending as she gasped at the invasive, yet welcomed pressure. Jude’s intense gaze held hers captive, the heat of his desire reflecting back at her like flames in a hearth. 

“Fuck, you feel unbelievable,” he rasped, thrusting gently as he pushed deeper, each subtle movement sending electric jolts of pleasure cascading through her. Tori arched her back, her hard nipples brushing against his chest, intuitively wanting more of him, more of this exquisite connection.

“More,” she urged, her voice barely a whisper, heavy with longing. “Please, Jude... I need it.”

A predacious grin spread across his face, and without a moment’s hesitation, he complied. Placing a hand on the back of her neck and the other on the small of her back, pulling her body flush against his. 

With a powerful roll of his hips, Jude drove deeper, claiming her in a way that turned her breath into a string of frantic gasps. The rhythmic motion filled the space between them with an intoxicating harmony that made her pulse race. Tori’s body melted against his, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that rippled through her, echoing with each thrust.

“Jude, you're so deep,” she moaned, her voice weak with desire as the sensation overwhelmed her. It felt as if he were reaching into her very soul, each movement igniting a fire that blazed hotter with every stroke.

“Look at me,” he growled his words lacking in diction as his hand on the back of her neck came to wrap around her throat, easing her body to sit up some so he could look into her eyes as he rounded his hips into Tori, fucking her incredibly deep. 

Tori’s heart raced, the combination of his grip and his commanding gaze sending shivers of exhilaration down her spine. She loved this side of him, the way he took charge, the way his need matched her own. The space around them faded, leaving only the two of them tangled in a whirlwind of heat and desire.

“Jude…” she breathed, her voice trembling as she leaned into his touch, craving both his possession and his passion. The intensity of his stare felt almost tangible, wrapping around her and binding them in this moment of unadulterated pleasure.

“Tell me how it feels,” he urged, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins.

It took Tori a moment to gather her thoughts, to articulate the overwhelming sensations crashing through her. “It’s... so much,” she managed, her breath hitching as he ground deeper inside her, every thrust perfectly timed to lift her closer to the edge. “It’s everything, Jude. Just—just don’t stop.”

His eyes burned with a mix of ownership and satisfaction, and he revelled in her response as if her words were his own personal high. He adjusted his angle, hitting a spot that sent a wave of pleasure washing over her, causing her to arch into him. 

“Don’t ever second guess how fucking perfect you are,” Jude growled, his voice deep and resonant, filled with raw need. He intensified his pace, each thrust resonating through her as he delved deeper, pushing her closer to the brink. The heat between them crackled, an electric current that sparked at every point of contact, igniting every sense.

Tori’s breath quickened, each inhaling a desperate gasp for air as if the sheer force of their connection threatened to overwhelm her lungs. 

“Oh god, Jude… yes,” she cried, her back arching further, urging him on. It was as if his every touch had created a symphony within her—a melody of pleasure that coursed through her veins, building to a crescendo that she could almost taste.

“Feel how much I want you,” Jude painted, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice as he quickened the rhythm. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every contour, as though he wanted to memorize her completely.

Finally settling his hands on her hips as he bit down on his bottom lip, Jude’s brow furrowed as his gaze fixed on Tori's glossy brown eyes as she gave herself to him. 

The connection between them deepened with every thrust, a magnetic pull that transcended the physical realm. Tori felt exhilarated and vulnerable all at once, ensnared in a dance of ecstasy that made her skin tingle and her heart race. Jude’s gaze burned into her, the depth of his desire setting her aflame from within.

“You’re everything I want,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear as he quickened his rhythm, driving them both higher.

As Tori’s eyelids heavy with lust slid shut, she felt a singular tear of unadulterated pleasure roll down her cheek, a physical testament to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. Every thrust from Jude felt like a promise, each powerful movement igniting more than just her body; it deepened their bond, drawing them closer together as though they were the only two souls in existence.

“Jude,” she gasped, opening her eyes to meet him once more, searching for some kind of guidance. Her body was his, even if only for the moment. 

“Let go,” he urged, his voice a heated whisper as he captured her gaze, anchoring her in the depth of their connection. Tori felt as if he was unravelling her from the inside out, his words wrapping around her heart like a warm embrace. The trust between them intensified the experience, elevating every sensation beyond the physical.

“Just you and me,” he said, his breath heavy with need. “Nothing else matters right now.” With those words, he thrust deeper, asserting that claim within her, pushing her to places she had never dreamed of reaching.

Tori managed a nod, her voice lost in the tumult of pleasure. She surrendered completely to the moment, allowing the waves of ecstasy to wash over her. The rhythm between them grew urgent, a fierce manifestation of their shared longing, building in intensity with every tide.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Jude groaned, his hands tightening possessively around her hips as he lost himself in her. The pressure building within her was electric, every pulse of pleasure drawing her closer to that swirling vortex of release. 

“Jude, I—I can’t hold on much longer,” she warned, her words whisper-soft amidst the gasps and moans echoing through the room. 

“Good,” he encouraged with a primal growl, his eyes darkened with lust. “Let it go, Tori. I want to feel you cum on me.” 

With each powerful thrust, he pushed her closer to that edge, his rhythm relentless, a beautiful pinnacle that made everything else fade into oblivion. Tori’s body responded instinctively, tightening around him as if seeking to pull him even deeper.

“Jude!” she cried out, feeling the pleasure tighten into a coil, ready to unravel. He pressed on, relentless in his pursuit, his voice a seductive growl that wrapped around her heart. 

“Just let it happen, Tori. Feel all of me,” he coached his hands firmly gripping her hips as he tilted his hips into her, making sure she felt every last pulsing inch.

The intensity of their connection reached a fever pitch, each thrust adding fuel to the fires that roared within her. Tori could feel the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over her, a tsunami she couldn’t hope to hold back any longer. Every nerve in her body tingled with need, each pulse syncopated with Jude’s movement, forging a bond between them.

“Just like that!” she gasped, her words melting into moans, expressing the bliss that swelled within her. Every inch of her became attuned to his rhythm, and she relished the dance of their bodies—the slick sliding sensation that came with each thrust, their shared breaths mingling in the charged air.

Tori’s fingers tangled in his hair as she leaned forward, wanting to feel every part of him pressing against her. “I’m so close,” she confessed, her voice breathless and laced with desperation. The heat radiating from his body set her ablaze, igniting a fire that refused to be quenched.

“Cum for me,” he commanded, his voice raw with desire, pushing her to the brink. His hands gripped her tighter, anchoring her as he thrust deep, each movement driving her closer to the edge she was so desperately in pursuit of.

Tori's body quaked above him, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. She could barely string words together, lost in the depths of her pleasure. “Jude, I can’t… I—”

“Give it to me,” he urged, his strained as he felt his end nearing. “Please, Tori.” The desperation in his voice pushed her over the edge, that insistent tone igniting the last spark of her restraint.  

With one final thrust, Jude buried himself deep inside her, and Tori felt the world swirl around her. The coil of pleasure snapped, sending shockwaves coursing through her body as her orgasm shattered every thought, every worry, leaving only raw ecstasy in its wake. Waves of pleasure rippled through her, overwhelming her senses, and she forgot everything except the intoxicating rhythm of their bodies entwined.

“Jude!” She cried out, her voice hoarse as she let herself fall into that abyss of pleasure, riding the crest of the wave as it crashed over her. Every muscle in her body tightened, and she felt herself pulsing around him, tightening and pulsing in the throes of her release.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunted, his own body responding instinctively to the feel of her climax. With each tightening clench of her walls around him, Jude lost himself completely, the warmth of her body drawing him into a well of bliss. 

He felt his release building, the intensity of her orgasm pushing him over the edge. “I’m right there with you,” he groaned, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 

Tori locked her gaze on his, their breaths mingling as they rode the waves together. The connection between them deepened with each pulse, each beat of their hearts echoing in time. 

“Jude!” she gasped, as another wave washed over her, pulling him along in its wake, and then, as if their bodies were synchronized, he delved deep into her, stilling as he poured himself into the condom he wore. 

“Fuck, Tori!” he cried out, the sensation of her wrapping around him perfectly driving him over the edge as his cock filled her completely.

As the remains of their orgasms gradually faded, Tori collapsed against Jude, panting against his chest, both of them lost in a cocoon of warmth and satisfaction. Her heart raced, still thumping with remnants of pleasure as she felt Jude’s arms wrap around her, holding her close.

After a few moments of blissful silence, Tori began to regain consciousness of her surroundings, the warm afterglow of their passion enveloping her like a cozy blanket. The city outside was bustling with life, but inside the room, time felt suspended, a private moment shared between just the two of them. Tori would have been content to lie there forever, nestled against him, but a sudden wave of apprehension washed over her. 

Jude, sensing her shift in mood, tightened his grip around her. "What are you thinking?" he asked softly, his voice low as he stroked her hair, pulling her even closer. 

“Not much,” she mumbled, nestling deeper against the warmth of his chest. The contentment surrounding them was intoxicating, even as a flicker of reality started to seep back in. 

“I was thinking about taking you shopping today,” Jude suggested, a teasing lilt in his voice, his fingers gently grazing back and forth over the small of her back. “I want to spoil you a little.”

“Spoil me?” she asked teasingly, tilting her head to look up at him.

“Yes,” he replied, a charming grin spreading across his face. “So you can get dressed up for me tonight while we bring in the New Year.”

Not only was it a chance to spoil her and in turn feed his ego, but there was also something about the act, the quality time spent that seemed rather intimate to him. 

“What would you like to see me in?” Tori asked with a smirk as she sat up, her breast round and perky as she straddled Jude’s lap. 

Jude's gaze darkened with desire as he took in the sight of her sitting on him, her body radiating confidence and allure. “Honestly? I like you in absolutely nothing, but a dress would be more fitting considering our plans for tonight,” he replied, his voice low and gravelly.

Tori felt her cheeks flush at his words, the compliment igniting a warmth within her. “What are our plans for tonight?” she asked, her breath deepening as Jude’s hands came to rest on her hips. 

“Dinner and then a New Year's Eve party at the marina,” he explained, his dark eyes locking onto hers, filled with anticipation. “And you have my word no lap dances will be taking place,” he smirked, earning a laugh and playful punch to the bicep from Tori. 

When they finally pulled themselves from the bed, Tori made her way into the bathroom to get ready as Jude went to leave her hotel room and head back to his own. 

As he pulled open the door of Tori’s room, he noticed Alex walking towards him, dressed in a suit similar to the one he wore the night of the party when he comforted Tori. 

Instead of saying anything, Jude offered Alex a knowing smirk, his body still humming for the passionate encounter he just had with Victoria. 

Making his way back to his room, Jude changed clothes and alerted his security guard of his plans to leave the hotel with Tori. 

As he dressed, Jude felt a sense of anticipation bubbling within him. The thought of taking Tori shopping, of sharing the day with her, filled him with excitement. He couldn't wait to see her in something stunning for the New Year’s Eve party, something that would make her stand out and remind everyone—especially Alex—who she belonged to.

Once he was ready, Jude stepped out of his suite and made his way down the corridor to Tori's room. He knocked, his heart racing again at the thought of seeing her. The door swung open, and Tori stood there, looking radiant despite the casual outfit she wore. A fitted black top hugged her frame, paired with high-waisted jeans that accentuated her curves perfectly.

“Tori,” Jude spoke up, his voice laced with genuine admiration. “You look incredible.”

Tori smiled shyly, a light blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Thanks. I figured I’d keep it simple for shopping,” she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Simple? You look anything but,” Jude replied, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “Come here,” he instructed. 

Tori’s heart fluttered at the command in his voice, and she took a small step toward him, curiosity lighting up her eyes. Jude reached out, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. 

Tori’s breath hitched in her throat as Jude pressed a kiss against her plump lips, his hands slipping down to caress her backside as he walked her backwards into the nearest wall. 

His mouth moved against hers with a hot intensity, igniting a fire within Tori that she couldn’t ignore. She thawed into him, her body responding instinctively as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the warmth of her mouth. 

“We need to leave or I'm going to end up fucking the shit out of you in this entryway,” Jude groaned against her lips, a teasing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Tori couldn't help but laugh softly, the tension of the previous days melting away in this moment of intimacy.

“Then we should hurry,” she replied, her voice playful, yet filled with a thrill of excitement. She stepped back, breaking the embrace just enough to catch her breath and regain her composure. Looking into Jude's eyes, she felt an undeniable connection, one that made her heart race and her stomach flutter.

Jude gave her a lopsided grin, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Shopping first, party later.”

Tori grinned, her excitement bubbling to the surface as she took Jude's hand, guiding him toward the door. “Lead the way then,” she said, her voice playful.

[chrystal-ink]

Damn you

An enemies to lovers story

Shadow x GN Reader

Rating: Mature Minors do not interact

Chapter one: First Day

You arrived on the fourteenth floor, towing your supplies as the receptionist showed you to your office.

"All of our field agents get their own personal office's in order to have privacy when working on investigations, they are soundproof, bulletproof, and are the few rooms in this building without cameras in order to protect sensitive information. That being said all of your electronics will be monitored closely. Any potential treason will be immediately investigated. If you are looking at chao videos we can see it, if you are messaging your romantic partner we will read it, your privacy is a security threat you may have it at home but not here. Do you understand?"

"Yes mam" you replied

"good, now here is your office, and your key, do not lose it. get settled in, at ten you have a meeting with Director Sanders, the head of this department, and Commander Abraham Towers they will give you your first assignment as well as debrief you on how we operate here. Good luck Agent Y/N And welcome to GUN."

with that she left you alone in your office.

you unpacked your items organizing them to your preference. Taking a deep breath you took a small moment to celebrate, you were finally here after so many long years of training, fighting, and countless sleepless nights. A field agent you almost couldn't believe it, you hoped they were proud.

but you couldn't spend the whole day celebrating, there was a job to be done. and you needed your first assignment.

⚫

"You seem to have risen through the rankings at an impressive rate" Director Sanders started.

"Yes sir, I've Dedicated my entire adult life to this Organization and the protection of this planet"

"that's good to hear. I see your parents had a high rankings here as well. does that have anything to do with your decision to join us."

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't, my parents were my hero's. I want to follow in their footsteps."

"They were good soldiers." the Commander interjected. " I was sad to lose them, your mother was an excellent shot, one of the best in the agency. It was hard for a mobian soldier to gain respect back then, but your mother never stopped fighting for it. Much to everyone's surprise, save for your father's and mine, her shot improved after she gave birth to you and your sister. She was never one to back down from a challenge. I can tell you're the same way. Tell me How is Felicity?"

"She's doing well, smart as a whip too. She attends boarding school most of the year. but spends summers with me, I've arranged a nanny for when she visits so I have plenty of time for missions if I am needed."

"Good. speaking of missions, It's about time you received your first mission as a field agent. most of your missions will be given to you by Director Sanders, he is in charge of most field agent operations Any missions given by me immediately become top priority. You are new so you likely won't be given any high profile missions until after you have proven yourself to be proficient do you understand."

"Yes sir I do."

"Good, Now Our servers have picked up an energy signal from an abandoned water treatment facility possibly linked to the Chaos emeralds, your job is to go there find the source and report your findings back to us."

"Understood."

"There will be a helicopter to pick you up and take you to the drop off point, you will have three hours to find the source and get back to the rendezvous point. this facility has been abandoned for decades so you shouldn't run into any trouble, that being said you will be issued your standard G.U.N pistol and bullet proof vest. in case any inconveniences make themselves apparent, you are to deal with them quickly and to your discretion. You will have an hour to get ready before meeting your Helicopter at the launching pad, this should be enough time to collect your equipment and change into your mission gear. you are dismissed. and Y/N."

"Yes Commander."

"Good luck, I know you will make your parents proud."

"Thank You sir." with that you exited the room to get ready.

"Do you think we should have warned them about Shadow Commander?"

"No, as much of a loose cannon as he is, this signal shouldn't be strong enough to warrant a visit from him, besides this case is about as low profile as we can get, more of a maintenance call than anything, they should be fine."

⚫

you arrived at the facility taking out you scanner you began to search the area for the energy source.

the sounds of your steps echoed as you made your way through the dilapidated corridors. your flashlight reflected off employee safety signs that clung to the walls through rusted screws, vats once filled with untreated water lay dry, a musty scent filled the air.

your scanner gave off steady beeps as you got closer and closer to the source. you became more conscious of your movements the further you walked. the fur on the back of your neck began to stand as you entered what you assumed had to be the employee cafeteria.

your ears perked up as you heard a slight gust of wind behind you. instinctively you stepped aside just in time to doge a figure careening towards you.

the figure rerouted turning back around for another attack. you removed your gun from it's holster, before you could properly take aim the figure struck you knocking you to the floor. you held onto your gun with a death grip, you were not about to lose your only means of defense against an unknown enemy.

"Who are you, and what the hell do you think you're doing here?" the figure asked his voice deep and gruff.

he stepped into the light of your now abandoned flashlight allowing you to see him properly.

Crimson eyes glared at you, his black fur blended him into the darkness making him look as if he were apart of it, and his markings. red on his face, limbs, and quills that you could never forget, not even if you tried.

You recognized him alright.

Shadow The Hedgehog.

[0silver0dreams0]

"Whispers of Devotion"

Yandere House of the dragon x ModernReborn!Reader Pt. 3

Summarized: Gradually, as time passes, the girl she once was begins to transform into a woman. Those around her take notice, and the actions of those in her life start to bear consequences. As tensions rise, rivalries deepen, and complex feelings begin to intertwine.

Warning: hatred, love macking, mutual masturbation, clues of incest, forbidden love and stalking.

<< Pt. 2 — masterlist — Pt. 4 >> (Coming Soon)

When will they finally leave you alone? Letter after letter after letter. They just don’t understand—you don’t want them anymore. Jacaerys, Rhaenyra, Daemon, even that insufferable boy Lucerys. You burned their letters in the fireplace without hesitation. You don’t care about them; you only wish for their suffering and demise, imagining it vividly before see them with your eyes. But you force yourself to set those thoughts aside. They are a distraction, and distractions displease your mother. Every minute of your day is accounted for, each task meticulously planned to maintain the illusion of perfection. If you falter—if you make a single misstep—Alicent will not forgive you. She will punish you, lock you in your chambers for hours, sometimes days, leaving you isolated with nothing but your thoughts.

You live to please her. To earn her approval. To become the daughter she expects you to be.

8:00 - Etiquette lessons 9:00 - Dance lessons 10:00 - Bath 11:00 - History lessons 12:00 - Go to the Great Sept with Alicent 13:00 - Have tea with Alicent 14:00 - Valyrian lessons 15:00 - Lunch with your family 16:00 - Watch Aemond train and encourage him 17:00 - Talk to Alicent about everything that happened during the day 18:00 - Sneak into the kitchen to eat something 19:00 - Pray Alicent doesn’t notice you ate something 20:00 - Read 21:00 - Prepare for bed 22:00 - Sleep

It’s almost noon, which means it’s time to accompany Alicent to the Great Sept. Yet, as the clock ticks closer to the hour, temptation claws at you. There’s a small gap in your schedule, just enough time for a stolen moment. You glance around to ensure no one is watching before slipping away to the gardens.

He’s waiting for you, leaning casually against a stone column, his armour glinting faintly in the sunlight, he was there, with his brown eyes, his blonde hair, Ser Alaric. The sight of him brings a rush of warmth to your chest.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says softly, though the smile on his face betrays his words. “I could say the same to you,” you tease, stepping closer. “But I’m glad you are.” He reaches out, brushing his fingers against yours—a touch so fleeting it almost feels like a dream. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Princess. If your brother finds out…”

You tense at the mention of Aemond. He must never know about this, about you and Alaric. Aemond’s protectiveness would turn violent in an instant, and you dread to think what he might do.

“He won’t find out,” you assure him, though your voice is quieter than you intended. “I won’t let him.” Alaric studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he nods. “Just be careful. For both our sakes.”

Before you can respond, the sound of footsteps makes you both freeze. Your heart leaps into your throat as you whip around to see Aemond standing at the edge of the garden, his sharp gaze fixed on you.

“(your name),” he calls out, his tone neutral but his eye narrowing slightly. “What are you doing here?” You force a smile, stepping away from Alaric as casually as you can. “I had a bit of free time before prayer. I thought I’d take a walk.”

“And you, Ser Alaric?” Aemond’s voice hardens as he shifts his attention to the knight. “I was ensuring the Princess’s safety,” Alaric replies smoothly, bowing his head. Aemond’s gaze lingers on him for a moment before turning back to you. “Mother is waiting. You should go.”

You nod quickly, glancing at Alaric one last time before following Aemond.

When you arrive at the Sept, Alicent is already there, her gaze darkening the moment it lands on you.

"You’re late," she says, her tone sharp and clipped. “I apologize, Mother. I—” “I’ve no interest in your excuses.” She steps closer, her expression cold and unyielding. “You’ve been acting irresponsibly of late—sneaking off like a petulant child. I won’t allow it any longer.” Her voice is calm but cuts through you with the precision of a blade.

“After prayers, you will return to your chambers,” she continues, each word deliberate. “And you will remain there until I decide otherwise. Perhaps solitude will instil the discipline you so clearly lack.”

You open your mouth to object, but her piercing glare stops you mid-breath. Any protest dies on your lips.

The prayers are long and stifling, each moment stretching painfully under the weight of her disapproval. When they finally conclude, Alicent herself escorts you back to your chambers, her grip firm as though she fears you might slip away.

The heavy door shuts behind you with a finality that sends a shiver down your spine, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock turning.

Left alone, you search your bed, hoping the books you’d hidden earlier might still be there. They aren’t. In fact, none of your hidden belongings remain. Realisation dawns—she must have discovered them. That’s why she was so angry.

With no distractions to occupy your mind, you lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe sleep will offer a reprieve. But the hours drag on, the silence pressing against you like an iron weight. Just as the last light of day fades, a soft knock breaks the stillness, startling you.

“Aemond?” you call out hesitantly.

The door creaks open, and your brother steps inside, a tray of food in hand and a book tucked under his arm.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whisper, though relief rushes through you.

“And leave you to starve?” he replies simply. He sets the tray down on your desk before sitting beside you on the bed. “Mother can be harsh, but she forgets—you're human, not an extension of her will.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking a tentative bite of the bread he brought. “But if she finds out, she’ll punish me even more.”

“I’ll speak with Father,” he says, his voice calm but resolute. “Perhaps he’ll see that Mother has gone too far.”

Your fingers graze the book he hands you, and for the first time in hours, a faint smile graces your lips. “You’re always looking out for me,” you say softly.

Aemond’s gaze lingers, his voice low but steady. “They don’t see you for who you are. To Mother, you’re a pawn; to them, a symbol. But I see you.”

Your breath hitches, his words stirring something deep within you. Before you can reply, he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face.

“I know how she treats you,” he continues, his tone measured but intense. “Always demanding, always expecting. But you don’t have to bear it alone. I’ll always be here.”

“Aemond…” you begin, unsure of what to say, but he interrupts with a faint smile. “Rest. If she troubles you again tomorrow, come to me—or Father. I’ll handle it.”

Without waiting for a response, he rises, his movements deliberate. At the door, he pauses, glancing back with a rare softness in his eyes.

“Remember, I’m always here.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re left with a strange mixture of comfort and unease. Aemond’s presence was your refuge, but his intensity… it left a lingering weight in the air.

It was already dark when you decided to take a bath. Perhaps it would help ease the tension gripping your body. Surely Mother wouldn’t mind—not if it was just a few minutes to the bathing chambers nearby.

The corridor was silent as you slipped out, your footsteps a soft echo in the stillness. You moved swiftly, heart racing with the thrill of disobedience. Reaching the bathing chamber, you let out a quiet sigh of relief, pushing the heavy door shut behind you.

But before it could close, a hand shot out, stopping it. Panic flared as another arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back, and a hand covered your mouth before you could scream. Your heart pounded, every nerve on edge, until the faint scent of leather and cedarwood registered.

“Relax,” came a low, familiar voice, its velvety tone tinged with amusement. “It’s just me.” You pull his hand away and whirl around, your expression a mix of relief and exasperation. “You scared me half to death!” you whisper fiercely, mindful of the echoing corridors outside.—”

“Forgive me, my lady. I couldn’t resist.”

“This isn’t funny,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “If Mother knew you were here—”

“She’d lock you away again?” he finished, his smile fading as his brown eyes softened. “I know. That’s why I had to see you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you trapped in that room, alone, while she wields her control over you.”

His words sent a rebellious spark through you, a flicker of validation in the face of your mother’s suffocating expectations. But just as quickly, the reality of your situation weighed it down. “Alaric, you shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, glancing nervously at the door. “If Aemond finds out…”

At the mention of your brother, Alaric’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening. “Aemond won’t find out. And even if he did, I’m not afraid of him.”

“You should be,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “He’d kill you if he thought—”

“That I cared for you?” Alaric said quietly, his gaze piercing.

Your breath caught, and you looked away, heat rising to your cheeks. “You shouldn’t care for me,” you muttered. “It’s not safe—for either of us.”

“And yet, here I am,” he said softly, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin up, his touch gentle but insistent. “I don’t care about the risk, (your name). I’d rather face Aemond’s sword and your mother’s wrath than stay away from you.”

The weight of his words struck you, before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you. Grabbing his arm, you pull him back, your heart pounding. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t hesitate. His hands find your waist as you lean in, and his lips meet yours in a kiss that drowns out every rule, every fear, and every consequence.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was desperation and lust, a silent scream against the forces trying to pull you apart. For a fleeting moment, the world dissolved. No Mother. No Aemond. No suffocating expectations. Just Alaric and the reckless hope he represented.

When you finally pulled away, your breaths came fast, and your cheeks burned. Alaric’s eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak, his thumb brushing the curve of your jaw.

“I…” you started, but your words faltered.

His lips curved into a faint smile, tender yet resolute. “Say the word, and I’ll stay. No matter what.”

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No. Not tonight. But… tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” he echoed, one brow lifting in curiosity.

“Here,” you said firmly. “The same time, the same place. I’ll find a way.”

He studied you for a moment, as if weighing the risk against the determination in your eyes. Then, he nodded. “Tomorrow, then.”

With a final lingering kiss to your forehead, he stepped back toward the window. “Don't let her break you. Be careful, (your name).”

“You too,” you whispered, watching him slip into the night, his silhouette vanishing into the shadows.

As the quiet of the chamber settled around you, your fingers brushed your lips, the memory of his kiss still vivid. The enormity of what had happened began to sink in, but instead of fear, a strange exhilaration coursed through you.

The following day dawns with an air of tension you can’t quite shake. As you dress for your morning lessons, the memory of last night lingers like a forbidden dream. You replay every word, every touch, every moment with Alaric, but reality presses in too soon.

When you enter the dining hall for breakfast, Alicent’s gaze immediately locks onto you. Her expression is stiff, and her tone, when she speaks, carries a sharp edge.

“Sit,” she says curtly, her eyes flicking toward the chair opposite her.

You do as instructed, lowering yourself into the seat. Aemond is already there, silent but watchful as always, and Viserys occupies his usual place at the head of the table. His expression, however, is uncharacteristically lively this morning, his gaze softening when it lands on you.

“Good morning, my dear,” Viserys says warmly, his voice cutting through the tension.

“Good morning, Father,” you reply, a cautious smile tugging at your lips.

He waves a hand dismissively toward the plate before you. “Eat well. And don’t worry about that ridiculous punishment. You’re free to go about your day as you please.”

You blink in surprise, your fork pausing mid-air. Alicent stiffens visibly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Viserys—” she begins, her voice tightly controlled, but he raises a hand to silence her.

“She’s done nothing to warrant being locked away, Alicent,” he says firmly, though his tone remains even. “Our daughter is a credit to this family. She carries herself with grace and dignity, and I won’t have her treated like some wayward child.”

Alicent’s hands clench in her lap, her composure barely holding. “It’s not about grace or dignity. It’s about discipline. She’s been sneaking off—”

“And you dealt with it, as you always do,” Viserys interrupts, his tone softening but leaving no room for argument. “But she’s learned her lesson, hasn’t she?” He glances at you with a fatherly smile.

“Yes, Father,” you reply quietly, your gaze lowering to avoid Alicent’s piercing stare.

“Good, then it’s settled.” Viserys returns to his meal, clearly considering the matter closed.

The tension at the table is palpable as Alicent pointedly cuts her food, the sound of her knife scraping against the plate unnervingly loud. Aemond exchanges a glance with you, a subtle flicker of support in his eye, but says nothing.

After breakfast, Alicent corners you just outside the hall, her voice low and sharp.

“Your father may see you as flawless, but perfection comes with a cost,” she hisses, her gaze cold. “You will not jeopardise what we’ve worked so hard to build with your recklessness.”

You swallow hard, nodding quickly. “Yes, Mother.”

Her glare intensifies, her tone biting. “You are the model of what a princess should be, and you will act accordingly. The court looks to you for inspiration, and I will not have them see weakness. Your lessons will continue, every one of them, and I will ensure your Septa does not coddle you.”

“Yes, Mother,” you reply, your voice steady but soft.

She studies you for a moment longer before sweeping away, her skirts rustling angrily behind her. The encounter leaves you standing tall, not because of fear, but because you know the weight of perfection that has been placed upon you—a weight you have always borne with grace.

The day stretches on, a never-ending cycle of lessons and expectations. Each moment is meticulously scheduled, a testament to your role as the perfect princess. Etiquette lessons are followed by hours spent discussing history, with each lecture becoming more and more of a blur. Valyrian is mastered with grace, the elegant words flowing from your lips as if they were second nature. The pressure to be flawless weighs heavily on you, but you bear it with an air of calm, never allowing it to show.

Throughout it all, Alicent remains a constant presence. She watches your every move, her sharp gaze never leaving you. You know she is pleased with your progress, but there is always a lingering sense of expectation in the air, as if the tiniest misstep would undo everything.

Even as you move from one task to another, the thought of Alaric flickers at the edges of your mind. The stolen kiss, the promise made—these moments linger in your thoughts like a secret thread woven through the fabric of your day. You push the thoughts aside, knowing you must focus on your duties. There is no room for distractions, not when you must remain perfect in every way.

Lunch comes and goes, a quiet affair with your family. You speak with your mother and Aegon, though your words are carefully measured. They don’t know—none of them do—but you catch Aegon’s eyes occasionally, a silent understanding passing between you. Afterward, you attend more lessons, this time under your mother’s watchful eye. Her gaze is always on you, sharp and piercing, but there’s also an unspoken encouragement there. She expects greatness, and you deliver it.

As the afternoon wanes, you move to your final task of the day: another meeting with Alicent. She inspects your progress with a critical eye, praising the things you’ve done well and reminding you of the things that still need perfecting. Her voice is firm, but there’s a gentleness there, too, the kind that only a mother can convey.

The hours pass like this, one after another, each duty completed to the highest standard. Finally, the evening arrives, and with it, the promise of a brief respite. Dinner with the family is a quiet affair, the room filled with the soft clinking of utensils and murmured conversation. You eat in silence, your mind elsewhere.

Afterward, you retire to your chambers. You change into your nightgown, the fabric cool against your skin. You look in the mirror for a moment, seeing the poised princess staring back at you. No mistakes. No cracks in the façade. Everything has been handled with perfect care.

You make your way to the bath chambers, the solitude of the corridors a small comfort. As you approach the door, you hear a voice from behind.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Alicent’s voice is sharp, and you freeze mid-step.

Turning slowly, you face her, the tension building in the air. “I’m going to take a bath, Mother,” you answer calmly, offering her a small, composed smile.

Alicent looks you over, her gaze lingering on your attire. “In that? Why are you dressed like that? You know it’s improper to go without the servants’ help.” Her tone is questioning, but not unkind.

“I didn’t want to trouble them, Mother,” you reply smoothly. “I thought I would go on my own this time, just to... clear my thoughts.”

Alicent studies you for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Very well,” she says, her voice softening slightly. “But you must remember to call for help if you need it. Don’t forget your place, (your name).”

You nod quickly. “Of course, Mother. I won’t be long.”

She gives you one last scrutinising look before nodding, satisfied for the moment. “See that you don’t. You’ve done well today, but there’s always more to be done. I’ll be watching.”

With that, she turns and walks away, leaving you alone in the quiet of the corridor. You exhale slowly, the tension in your body relaxing. Without another word, you slip into the bath chambers, and then you hear a sound outside the window. It’s him.

You approach the window, heart racing, and peek through the gap in the curtains. Alaric stands there, his presence unmistakable even in the dim light. His gaze meets yours, and the weight of the promise you made to each other the night before hangs in the air. The excitement builds in you as you move away from the window, quickly securing the door.

Moments later, the door creaks open just enough to reveal Alaric slipping inside, his eyes scanning the room before settling on you. His gaze lingers on your nightgown, the soft fabric clinging to your form in the dim light. You feel his eyes on you, heat rising in your chest. Neither of you speaks immediately—words are unnecessary now. The anticipation crackles between you, and it’s clear that tonight will be different.

He steps closer, the air thick with tension, and the space between you is filled with a promise of more. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding with the realization of everything you’re about to risk. But you don't care, and you know that neither does he. Without a word, you begin to unlace the ties of your nightgown, letting it fall to the floor at your feet, leaving yourself exposed completely to him. He watches you, his gaze intense, and then, without hesitation, he closes the distance between you. His lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s both hungry and desperate, a mix of desire and an unspoken understanding of the consequences. The kiss deepens, pulling you both into the moment, where nothing else matters but the heat between you, a connection neither of you can deny.

“Wait, I don’t want to be impure, even if I love you too much, and I need you so much that even words can’t describe it,” you say, voice trembling with a mix of desire and guilt. “I don’t want to disappoint my family by being impure before the wedding.”

Alaric watches you, his eyes dark with an intensity that both comforts and unsettles you. Even though you know he’s hungry, his gaze softens with concern, a frown tugging at his features. “Then don’t do it,” he says, his voice low and steady, almost like a promise. “We can always do other things.”

His words are a balm to your anxious heart, yet there’s something deeper in his tone, an unspoken suggestion that he’s willing to go to great lengths to keep you safe, to protect you—his obsession so deeply rooted in his care for you, and yet, there's a hint of something darker behind his gaze.

You hesitate, your hands shaking slightly as you look away, unsure if his care for you is truly all it seems. "But what if... what if I'm not enough for you?"

Alaric steps closer, his presence overwhelming as he lifts your chin gently with one hand. "You are more than enough," he says, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. "And no matter what happens, I'll make sure you're never alone."

His lips brush your forehead in a tender gesture, but the warmth doesn't quite reach your heart. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken promise of his love—and perhaps something more—pressing on you.

"You don't need to worry," he adds, his words both comforting and possessive. "I'll take care of everything. You just need to trust me."

And before you can say anything, he runs his hand down your body, touching your tits, your belly, all the way down to your private parts. You feel his fingers on your clitoris, circling, you want to moan, but before you do, his other hand goes to your mouth. As his head moves down your neck, kissing and sucking, but not leaving any marks. You were feeling so good, you don't know what he is doing down there and then he move away his hand of your mouth, and grabs yours, and guide to his dick and star to make moves.

"Just let me make you feel good too, all right, my lady?" Alaric’s voice is soft yet commanding, a tone that leaves no room for doubt.

You nod silently, your mind hazy and overwhelmed. You don’t fully understand what you’re doing; all you know is that you feel so good, so utterly consumed by the moment, that everything else fades into the background.

You barely notice what he’s doing with your hand or how quickly he’s guiding it. His touch is deliberate, firm, yet somehow gentle enough to keep you entranced.

You don’t have any idea what’s happening; the world around you blurs into pleasure and nothingness. All you know is the sensation—the warmth spreading through you, the dizzying rush of emotions—and the way he looks at you, as if you’re the only thing that matters in his entire world.

Pt. 4 >> (Coming Soon)

Author’s note: My apologies for the delay, I’ve had a busy few months, but I’m here now, and I hope to release part 4 very soon. Tomorrow, I’ll be posting some headcanons that I hope you’ll enjoy.

Taglist: @ursinaw @dakota-rain666 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @pookiedragonfire @jjggdfvvy @maryldrsstuff @1soultaken @ceramic-raven @eissaaaa @moodyblueberrytree @xadaboo @labryel @zoeyburton @hopingtoclearmedschool

[soleilpinto]

DRS = Defining Relationship Status?: Love in the Last Corner °‧🫐𐙚⭒

“Defining Relationship Status Zone” 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐

Synopsis: Motorsport fan and model, Y/n, and her thirst-filled tweets about Franco catch his attention, sparking a hilarious online banter that goes viral. As their playful exchanges become real connections, fans and media can’t get enough—will their chemistry survive offline?

Genre: Fluff, Crack, Slowburn, (Slight) Angst

AU: Social Media AU!

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Note: I can’t believe we’re finally at the final part of this series, it’s been a wild time writing this fic 😭 Don’t worry though, I’ll have another smau coming out soon so you guys won’t get bored. Thank you guys so much again for the huge amount of love on the series, even if it is my first one on this account. Love you all!

DRS Masterlist. (PREV./NEXT.)

@williamzracing so y/n's been radio silent about franco for weeks... but now she’s in qatar and hanging out with lando? 👀 something’s up

@oversteerqueen y/n showing up in the mclaren garage with lando like she didn’t spend the entire season thirsting over franco... the AUDACITY

@chequeredflirt i’m calling it now: y/n and franco are done, and lando is moving in for the win (and i’m not talking about the constructors) 😂

@chicanechatter imagine being franco and seeing y/n with lando in qatar. the silence is deafening.

@formulafrenzyy this lando and y/n thing better be pr because I’m not emotionally ready for a breakup AND a new ship all at once

The McLaren garage buzzed with energy as checks were being made before the first free practice session.

You stood off to the side, leaning casually against a wall, chatting with Lando. His easy humor had you laughing, your shoulders relaxing despite the chaos of the paddock around you.

“You know,” Lando teased, crossing his arms with a sly grin, “if you’re going to hang around the McLaren garage this much, we might as well get you some team gear. You’d look good in papaya.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “I don’t know, Lando. Orange might not be my color.”

“It’s papaya,” Lando corrected with mock seriousness, making you laugh again.

The sound of footsteps caught your attention, and before you could turn fully, you felt it—Franco’s presence. He was walking past, his gaze locked on you and Lando, his jaw tight and his eyes unreadable.

You tensed involuntarily, your laughter dying down as your eyes met his for the briefest of moments.

Lando noticed the change in your demeanor and followed your gaze, his expression shifting.

“Speak of the devil,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

Franco slowed his stride as if debating something, and then, to your surprise, he pivoted on his heel and walked straight toward you. Your stomach flipped.

This wasn’t like him.

“Can we talk?” Franco’s voice was steady, but there was a sharp edge to it as he glanced between you and Lando.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Now?”

“Yes. Now.” Franco’s tone left no room for argument.

Lando raised an eyebrow, stepping back slightly but still hovering close enough to observe.

“Well, I think that’s my cue to check on the car,” he said, shooting you a quick look as if to say good luck.

“Thanks, Lando,” you muttered, your voice tight as he walked off, leaving you alone with Franco.

You crossed your arms, looking up at him. “What’s this about?”

Franco’s expression softened for a moment before hardening again, as if he were fighting some internal battle.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said bluntly.

You frowned. “Do what?”

“This... pretending like I don’t care,” he admitted, his voice low but intense.

“I saw you laughing with Lando, and I couldn’t just walk away this time. I’m tired of avoiding this, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched at the sudden vulnerability in his tone, your heart pounding as you tried to process his words.

“Avoiding what?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Franco’s eyes searched yours, and for the first time in weeks, the tension between you felt less like a wall and more like a thread ready to snap.

“You,” he said simply. “Us.”

Your heart felt like it had stopped altogether, and the world around you faded into the background. But before you could find the words to respond, Franco shook his head slightly, as if trying to steady himself.

“I just... I needed to say it,” he muttered. “I couldn’t let it go unsaid anymore.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there in the middle of the McLaren garage, your thoughts spinning faster than the engines roaring in the background.

liked by lettiemng, gabyprentice_ and others

ynbardot doha dump (day one)

lilymhe always so gorgeous

— ynbardot when YOU exist omg lily 😭

iamrebeccad 😍

— ynbardot 😚

The hotel room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional sound of Elena scrolling on her phone.

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the room service tray you’d barely touched, replaying the events from the McLaren garage over and over in your mind.

Elena finally looked up, noticing the faraway expression on your face.

“Alright, spill,” she said, setting her phone down and crossing her legs. “What’s got you looking like you’ve seen a ghost?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“Franco came up to me today. In the McLaren garage.”

Elena’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What? He actually said something for once? And here I thought the boy had forgotten how to talk.”

You managed a small, bitter laugh. “Yeah, he finally talked. He said he couldn’t pretend he didn’t care anymore.”

“Wait… what exactly did he say?” Her expression shifted, softening with curiosity.

You hesitated, trying to recall the exact words without letting your emotions twist them.

“He said he was tired of avoiding it. That he couldn’t just walk away this time. And then he said… he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t care.”

Elena stared at you, her lips parted in shock. “Wow,” she finally said, leaning back against the headboard.

“That’s big. That’s really big.”

“Is it, though?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I still don’t understand why he’s been so cold lately. Why he let things get so bad between us. I don’t even know if I believe him, Elena. It’s like… it’s like he’s just now realizing I exist.”

Elena frowned, tilting her head as she studied you.

“You’re hurt,” she said softly.

“Of course I am,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly.

“This whole thing has been a mess. He was fine keeping his distance for weeks, acting like nothing happened, and now he decides to come up to me and say all this? I don’t know how to feel.”

Elena reached over, placing a hand on your arm.

“Y/N, I get it. But listen to me—Franco’s been in his head about you for a while now. Probably longer than he even realizes.”

“What are you talking about?” You looked at her skeptically.

She shrugged, her tone matter-of-fact.

“He’s been acting this way ever since Vegas. I mean, the guy practically spiraled when he saw you and Lando hanging out. Do you really think he didn’t know what he was feeling back then? He’s just been too stubborn—or scared—to admit it.”

Your heart clenched at her words, the memory of Vegas flooding back. Franco’s sharp glares, his tense expression, the way he seemed on edge every time Lando was around.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Because it wasn’t my place to meddle,” Elena said gently.

“He had to figure it out on his own, and it looks like he finally has. I’m just saying—maybe don’t write him off completely just yet.”

You sighed, burying your face in your hands.

“I don’t know, Elena. It’s not that simple. I’m still hurt. I still don’t trust him not to run away again.”

“And that’s fair,” she said, her voice firm but understanding. “But if he’s finally stepping up, don’t shut him out without hearing him out first. You deserve answers, Y/N. You deserve to know how he really feels.”

You leaned back against the pillows, your mind swirling with doubt and confusion. “What if it’s too late?” you asked softly.

Elena gave you a small smile, her tone reassuring. “If it’s real, it’s never too late. But you have to decide if you’re willing to find out.”

You closed your eyes, her words settling over you like a weight.

Part of you wanted to keep your walls up, to protect yourself from further hurt. But another part—a smaller, quieter part—couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Franco was finally ready to let you in.

The next afternoon, the buzz of activity in the McLaren garage was a welcome distraction. Engineers hurried around, adjusting setups, while mechanics prepped Lando’s car for the third free practice session.

You were perched on a stool by one of the monitors, sipping on a water bottle as Elena scrolled through her phone beside you.

Lando strolled over, helmet tucked under his arm, his signature grin plastered on his face. “Enjoying the chaos?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter.

You laughed softly. “It’s actually kind of relaxing. Well, compared to my brain lately.”

Elena shot you a knowing look, but said nothing, letting Lando take the bait.

“Oh?” Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s going on in that overthinking head of yours?”

You hesitated, glancing at Elena, who nodded encouragingly.

“It’s… about Franco,” you finally admitted.

Lando set his helmet down, folding his arms as he leaned in closer.

“Alright, now I’m invested. What did he do this time?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Remember how he came up to me yesterday? Before free practice. He said he couldn’t pretend he didn’t care anymore.”

Lando blinked, clearly surprised. “Wow. That’s… actually huge for him. But I’m guessing there’s more to the story.”

“Of course there is,” you said with a dry laugh.

“I just… I don’t know what to do, Lando. Part of me wants to hear him out, but the other part is still so angry and hurt. He’s been so distant for weeks, and now suddenly he wants to talk?”

Lando nodded thoughtfully, his expression unusually serious.

“Look, I’m not gonna pretend I know Franco super well, but from what I’ve seen? He’s not the kind of guy who puts himself out there unless he means it.”

“That’s what Elena said,” you muttered, glancing at your friend, who gave you an encouraging smile.

Lando shrugged, his tone casual but sincere.

“Then maybe Elena’s onto something. I get that you’re hurt, and you have every right to be. But if he’s finally stepping up, don’t you think it’s worth at least hearing him out?”

You bit your lip, his words sinking in. “What if he’s just going to hurt me again?”

“Then you’ll have every right to tell him to shove it. But at least you’ll know you gave him the chance to explain himself. Better than sitting here wondering what could’ve been, right?” Lando reached out, gently poking your shoulder.

Before you could respond, Oscar called for Lando, signaling it was time for him to suit up. He grabbed his helmet, flashing you a quick grin.

“Think about it, yeah? I’ve gotta go be a superstar now.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling as he walked off toward his car. Elena nudged your arm, her expression teasing.

“He’s got a point, you know,” she said.

You exhaled deeply, watching as Lando climbed into his car, the hum of the engine roaring to life. Maybe it was time to stop running from this and face whatever was waiting for you.

The podium celebrations had ended, and the Qatar Grand Prix winners were back in the paddock, mingling with team members and a few drivers who had stayed behind to offer their congratulations.

The desert night was cool, but the buzz of the race still lingered in the air.

You stood nearby with Elena, chatting casually with Lando and Oscar, both still riding the adrenaline high from their stellar performances that weekend.

“Not a bad day at the office, huh?” you said to Lando, who was leaning against a table, his trademark grin on full display.

“Not bad at all,” he replied, his tone playful. “But now, it’s all about getting some rest before Abu Dhabi. That’s where the real fun is.”

Oscar chuckled, his demeanor calm as always. “Yeah, if we don’t wake up late that is. Speaking of, we should probably head out soon.”

“Agreed,” Lando added, pushing himself upright. “Gotta make sure we’re fresh for the finale.” He glanced at you and Elena. “You two are heading to Abu Dhabi later, right?”

You nodded. “We���re on the early morning flight. Guess we’ll see you there.”

“Perfect,” Lando said with a wink. “Abu Dhabi’s gonna be a party.”

The sun casts a golden glow over Abu Dhabi, illuminating the city’s gleaming architecture and turquoise waters.

You wandered through the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque with Elena, Jade, and Alex by your side, the four of you taking in the breathtaking beauty of the place. Tourists moved around you, their whispers blending into the serene atmosphere.

Elena nudged your side as you adjusted your scarf. “You’ve been quiet all morning. Still thinking about Franco?”

“What do you think?” You shot her a look, but the slight heat in your cheeks gave you away.

“I think you’re pretending to enjoy the scenery, but all you can think about is how he looked at you back in Vegas—and maybe what he said yesterday.” She smirked knowingly.

You sighed, brushing your fingers over the marble pillars. “It’s just… I don’t know what to do. He seemed so genuine, but it’s hard to forget how much he hurt me. And this is supposed to be his weekend. His last race in F1. I don’t want to distract him.”

Elena stopped walking and turned to face you, her expression soft yet serious.

“Y/N, you’re not a distraction. You’re the one thing he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about. Don’t you see it? He’s been aware of his feelings for you since Vegas, and the fact that he finally admitted them says a lot.”

You crossed your arms, feeling the weight of her words. “What if I can’t trust him again? What if I just get hurt all over?”

Elena reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm.

“That’s a risk, yeah. But what if this time, he’s ready to prove himself to you? You’ve always been good at reading people, Y/N. Trust your gut.”

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Pulling it out, you saw Franco’s name flashing on the screen. Your heart skipped a beat, and Elena raised an eyebrow.

“Speaking of,” she said with a teasing grin.

You hesitated before answering, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Franco’s voice was steady, but there was an undertone of nervousness. “I heard you’re out exploring the city. Do you have a minute? There’s something I want to show you.”

Elena gave you an encouraging nod, mouthing, Go.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, your pulse quickening. “Where are you?”

“Corniche Beach,” he replied. “I’ll send you the location.”

After hanging up, you turned to Elena, who was already grinning. “Go,” she urged. “I’ll be fine. Take the chance, Y/N.”

You gave her a hesitant smile before walking toward the exit. As you stepped into the warm Abu Dhabi air, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the moment where things between you and Franco would finally find clarity—or fall apart completely.

The sun dipped low over Corniche Beach, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose.

The gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore was a stark contrast to the whirlwind in your chest as you spotted Franco waiting by the railing. He was dressed casually, his hands shoved into his pockets, but the look on his face was anything but relaxed.

He straightened up when he saw you approach, his lips curving into a tentative smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied, stopping a few feet away.

The cool evening breeze swept through your hair, and you crossed your arms, unsure of how to start. “You wanted to see me?”

Franco nodded, exhaling deeply before gesturing toward the beach.

“Yeah, I thought this would be a good place to talk. It’s quieter.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Talk about what?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting yours again. “Us.”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded. You swallowed hard, trying to steel yourself.

“What about us, Franco?”

He stepped closer, his expression serious yet vulnerable.

“I’ve been a complete idiot. I know that. I messed everything up in Vegas, and then I made it worse by not talking to you. I let my own fear ruin everything. But… I can’t keep pretending I don’t care about you. Because I do. I care so much it scares me.”

Your breath hitched, his words cutting through the layers of doubt and hurt that had built up over the past few weeks.

“Franco, you can’t just say that after everything,” you said, your voice wavering. “You hurt me. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been?”

“I know,” he said, his voice low and laced with regret. “I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I need you to know that it wasn’t because I didn’t care. It was because I cared too much, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. But all you saw was raw honesty, his dark eyes pleading with you to believe him.

“I kept telling myself this was fake, that it didn’t mean anything,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “But it wasn’t fake for me. Not then, and definitely not now.”

The weight of his confession settled over you, leaving you momentarily speechless. When you finally found your voice, it was soft but steady.

“Franco, I don’t want to be someone you’re unsure about. I don’t want to be second-guessing where I stand with you.”

“You’re not,” he said firmly, taking another step closer. “You’re not second to anything, Y/N. You’re everything. And I’m done running from it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the walls you’d built around it starting to crack.

“Franco, if I give this a chance—if I give you a chance—you have to promise me something.”

“Anything,” he said without hesitation.

“Be honest with me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “No more mixed signals, no more hiding. If you’re all in, I need to know.”

He nodded, reaching for your hands. His touch was warm, grounding you as he looked into your eyes with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“I’m all in,” he said softly. “I’m not letting fear get in the way again.”

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the sound of the waves and the distant hum of the city becoming background noise. Then, slowly, you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Let’s do this.”

A smile broke across his face, and before you could say another word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You leaned into him, the weight of the past weeks lifting as the warmth of his embrace wrapped around you.

When he finally pulled back, his grin was boyish, full of relief and happiness. “You won’t regret this,” he promised.

You couldn’t help but smile, the tension in your chest finally easing. “You better not make me.”

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the beach, you felt something you hadn’t in weeks—hope.

liked by francolapinto, alexandrasaintmleux and others

ynbardot headstart in abu dhabi

elenavalor omg she finally did it 😭

— ynbardot i love you 🥹

francisca.cgomes 🥹🫶

@gridgossips not y/n soft launching franco on her feed and him immediately liking it. y’all… we’re so back. 😭

@lightsoutndaway y/n subtly dropping franco in her post and he’s out here liking it like they didn’t just have the messiest fallout? this is PEAK f1 drama

@tifosiqueen that photo of franco and y/n in her post was so soft. are they finally on good terms or are we entering relationship announcement territory? 👀✨

@pitlaneinsider not me seeing y/n and franco walking together at the paddock entrance…i thought they weren’t on speaking terms? 🧐

@colapintcentral the fact that y/n and franco are literally together at yas marina right now after WEEKS of silence has me going insane. someone explain the timeline 🥲

The roar of the crowd at Yas Marina fades into a low hum as you make your way to the paddock after the race.

The air feels thick with tension, and the pit crews are busy packing up, but all you can focus on is Franco.

You had seen him in the cockpit, his car fighting for position before that unfortunate technical issue, and now you know he's out of the race.

He didn't finish.

You walk through the garage, your heart sinking a little with every step until you spot him by his team's pit wall.

Franco's shoulders are slumped, and his gaze is fixed on the ground. He doesn’t see you at first, too caught up in the frustration of yet another DNF.

“Franco,” you call softly, and his head snaps up.

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, and for a moment, you almost regret the words that follow. “Are you okay?”

He exhales sharply, his usual confident demeanor now worn down by the race.

“I’ll live,” he says with a tight smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m just... tired since it’s already the last race. Feels like I’m always on the edge, always close, but never quite there.”

You walk closer, carefully avoiding the space around him that feels like he’s trying to keep himself distant.

“You know, you're still one of the best out there,” you say, your voice soothing despite the ache in your chest. “None of this was your fault.”

Franco lets out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I’m not worried about that. It’s more... everything else. The pressure. The expectations. And... well,” he pauses, glancing at you through his lashes, “this.”

You swallow, trying not to let the weight of his words pull you under. “You don’t have to keep pretending with me, you know,” you murmur, stepping closer so there’s no space between the two of you.

You’re quiet for a beat, your heart hammering in your chest as his words echo in your head. It’s strange.

It’s been so easy to let things go, to keep pretending for the cameras, for the fans. But now, it feels different.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” you say, voice shaking slightly, but your eyes never leave his. “I don’t know if this is just a phase, or if we’re making something out of nothing.”

Franco steps a little closer, his hand brushing against yours.

“We take it one step at a time. No pressure. Just... let’s see where the world takes us, yeah?”

You nod, a small but relieved smile tugging at your lips. It’s not perfect. It’s not figured out.

But for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe you’ve taken a step toward something real—something you weren’t sure you’d get.

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[amethystarachnid]

NEW YEAR EVE WITH THE KIDS

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: New Year Eve party with a 10, a 6 and a 2 years old kids isn't easy, especially when it's a Stark party, but can you and your husband, Bucky, manage it?

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ Request: not requested but I wanted to write for Bucky from the Holiday special with this trope: 29. New Year’s Eve Party with the Avengers (or X-men)  – The Avengers come together to celebrate the New Year, but there’s a twist: the kids are part of the celebration. How does your character juggle both the kids' excitement and their own fun as the clock counts down to midnight?

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ From now requests can only be done in the asks, not in the comments because it's confusing and I'm scared of forgetting a request <3

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The evening begins with chaos, of course. In your household, it always does. You’re standing in front of the mirror in your shared bedroom, trying to fix the clasp on your necklace when you hear a loud crash from the kids’ room, followed by Estelle’s exasperated voice.

“Liam! I told you not to throw the ball near the closet!”

You sigh, glancing at Bucky, who is currently on the floor wrestling Julie into her tights. “I thought the party was supposed to be fun,” you mutter, and he chuckles, looking up at you with that boyish grin that still makes your heart skip.

“Fun’s subjective, doll,” he replies, finally managing to slide the tights over Julie’s chubby legs. She giggles, kicking at his vibranium arm as if it’s her favorite toy. “There we go, princess. All set for your grand entrance.”

Julie claps her tiny hands, her pigtails bobbing. “Pahty!” she exclaims, and Bucky scoops her up, planting a noisy kiss on her cheek. She shrieks in delight.

The crash upstairs is followed by Estelle shouting again. “Mom! Liam’s stuck in the closet!”

You exchange a look with Bucky. “Your turn,” you say, gesturing toward the door.

He smirks, standing up with Julie still perched on his hip. “Sure thing, boss.” He taps your chin with his free hand before heading out, his footsteps heavy on the stairs.

In the kids’ room, you hear the commotion quiet down as Bucky arrives to handle the situation. You use the brief reprieve to fix your makeup and take a deep breath. It’s New Year’s Eve, after all, and Tony Stark’s parties are legendary. You can’t show up looking like you’ve just run a marathon.

A few minutes later, Bucky returns with Liam in tow. Your six-year-old has a sheepish grin and a telltale smudge of something across his cheek. Bucky looks bemused, though not particularly surprised. “Our boy thought he could climb the shelves to get his Captain America action figure. Guess who came to the rescue?”

“Captain America?” you tease, raising a brow.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Close. His dad.” He sets Julie down and crouches to Liam’s level. “You okay, bud?”

Liam nods vigorously. “Yup! Daddy saved me!” He beams up at Bucky, who ruffles his hair and mutters something about reckless behavior being genetic. You stifle a laugh.

By the time everyone is dressed, it feels like an entire year has passed. Estelle looks radiant in her sparkly silver dress, which she picked out with great care. Liam has been persuaded into his tiny suit after much negotiation, and Julie, in her poofy pink dress, keeps twirling and declaring, “I’m a pwincess!”

Bucky, who looks as devastatingly handsome as ever in a sharp black suit, whistles low as he glances at you. “Doll, you’re stealing the show tonight.” His eyes trail over your outfit with such open admiration that it makes you blush.

“Flattery won’t get you out of diaper duty later,” you say, smirking.

He grins. “It’s worth a shot.”

With everyone finally ready, the five of you pile into the car and head to the compound. The drive is lively, filled with Julie’s excited babbling, Liam’s endless questions about fireworks, and Estelle’s occasional exasperated sighs about her younger siblings. Bucky is at the wheel, his hand reaching over to rest on your knee every so often, grounding you amidst the chaos.

When you arrive, the compound is already buzzing with life. Tony has outdone himself, as usual, with glittering decorations, an extravagant buffet, and a live band playing festive tunes. The kids’ eyes widen in awe as they take it all in.

“Remember,” you say, crouching to their level. “Stay close to us, okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” Estelle says dutifully, though she already looks like she’s itching to run off and explore. Liam bounces on his toes, clearly more excited about the dessert table than anything else. Julie clings to Bucky’s leg, her little hand clutching his fingers.

Bucky picks her up effortlessly, his eyes soft as he looks at her. “Ready to have some fun, sweetheart?”

She nods, her face lighting up. “Dance with me, Daddy?”

His grin is immediate. “Always.”

The night is young, and though wrangling three kids at a Stark party might be a Herculean task, you know one thing for certain: with Bucky by your side, it’s going to be an unforgettable start to the new year.

The party is in full swing as you and Bucky step into the grand hall with your three little ones. The band plays jazzy renditions of holiday classics, and the room sparkles with golden lights and elegant decorations. Tony is in his element, greeting guests with a drink in one hand and an effortless quip on his lips. Somewhere near the center of the crowd, you catch a glimpse of Steve, already engaged in a polite but animated conversation with Natasha.

The kids, of course, are magnets for attention. Within minutes of your arrival, they’re surrounded by adoring Avengers.

“Is this my favorite Barnes family?” Sam’s voice booms as he makes his way over, a broad smile on his face. He leans down to fist-bump Liam, who immediately grins.

“Uncle Sam!” Liam exclaims, hopping with excitement. “Look, I’m wearing a suit! Dad said I look like James Bond.”

Sam chuckles, throwing Bucky an amused glance. “James Bond, huh? High praise coming from your old man.”

Bucky shrugs, looking unapologetically proud. “He pulls it off.”

Julie, meanwhile, reaches for Sam, her tiny arms stretching toward him. “Unca Sam!” she demands, and Sam obliges, scooping her up with ease.

“Well, aren’t you the prettiest little princess,” he says, spinning her around. She squeals with delight, and you take a moment to exchange a relieved smile with Bucky. At least for now, someone else is helping entertain the kids.

Estelle, however, is more interested in catching up with Uncle Steve, who spots her and immediately crouches to her level. “Is that Estelle? Or is it a movie star in disguise?”

She rolls her eyes but can’t hide her smile. “It’s me, Uncle Steve. Can I show you the drawing I made for you?”

“Of course,” he says, his face lighting up. She pulls out a folded piece of paper from her small purse and hands it to him. It’s a detailed sketch of Captain America’s shield, meticulously colored in red, white, and blue. Steve whistles, clearly impressed. “You’ve got talent, kiddo. I’m gonna frame this.”

Estelle beams, and you exchange a look with Bucky. “She’s been working on that for days,” you whisper, and he nods, pride etched in his expression.

As the evening progresses, the kids take turns dragging you and Bucky in different directions. Liam is enthralled by the dessert table, where Thor is loudly extolling the virtues of a massive chocolate cake to anyone who will listen. Julie insists on dancing, tugging at Bucky’s hand until he relents and twirls her around on the dance floor. The sight of him, in his sharp suit, crouched down to Julie’s height and spinning her like she’s the star of the evening, melts your heart.

“You two make it look easy,” Natasha teases, appearing at your side as you watch them.

“Easy?” you laugh, sipping your drink. “Nat, I haven’t had a single moment to sit since we got here.”

“Well, you’re doing great.” She gives you a sly smile. “And if you need a breather, let me know. I’ve got my ‘scary Aunt Nat’ face ready to keep them in line.”

“Scary Aunt Nat?” you repeat, grinning. “I’m not sure they’d buy it.”

Natasha shrugs, but there’s a glimmer of affection in her eyes as she watches Julie try to dip Bucky during their dance. “Worth a shot.”

When Julie finally tires of dancing, Bucky scoops her up and makes his way back to you. “This one’s gonna crash soon,” he says, his voice warm as he adjusts her position on his hip. Julie rests her head on his shoulder, her thumb in her mouth.

“Want me to take her for a bit?” you offer.

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve got her.” His free hand finds yours, and for a moment, the chaos of the evening fades as he gives you a soft smile. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

Before you can respond, Liam reappears, his mouth covered in chocolate frosting. “Mom! Dad! Uncle Thor let me try the big cake!”

“Of course he did,” Bucky mutters, giving Thor a mock glare across the room. Thor grins unapologetically, raising a glass in salute.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, buddy,” you say, grabbing a napkin and crouching to wipe Liam’s face. He squirms but lets you do it, his excitement about the cake apparently outweighing his aversion to being fussed over.

The rest of the evening is a whirlwind. Steve steps in to play “superhero tag” with Estelle and Liam, giving you and Bucky a much-needed moment to sit down and enjoy a plate of hors d'oeuvres. Clint distracts Julie with a balloon animal he somehow fashions out of a stray party decoration. Even Tony gets involved, showing Liam and Estelle how to use a holographic projector to create firework simulations.

You lean back against Bucky’s shoulder, savoring the rare quiet moment. “We owe them all big time,” you murmur.

Bucky kisses the top of your head. “They don’t mind. It’s family.”

The word settles over you warmly, and you glance around the room. Estelle is laughing as Steve pretends to trip over his own feet during their game. Liam is perched on Thor’s shoulders, looking like he’s ready to conquer the world. Julie is curled up in Natasha’s lap, her eyelids drooping as Nat quietly tells her a story.

It’s chaotic, messy, and exhausting, but it’s yours. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The quiet moment doesn’t last. It never does.

You’re just about to take another sip of your drink when Liam barrels into you, clutching your leg with surprising force. “Mommy,” he whines, his voice muffled against the fabric of your dress, “I’m sleepy.”

You glance down and notice the way his little face is pressed against you, his arms wrapped tightly around your thigh. He’s usually full of boundless energy, so this sudden clinginess catches you off guard. “Sleepy already, huh?” you ask, crouching down to ruffle his hair. “It’s not even close to midnight.”

“I’m not tired,” he insists, his eyelids drooping even as he says it. “I just want to sit with you.”

Bucky appears at your side, Julie still nestled in his arms. She’s half-asleep now, her thumb firmly planted in her mouth, her head resting against Bucky’s shoulder. He rocks her gently without thinking, his movements instinctive and soothing. “Looks like the little ones are winding down,” he observes, his voice low.

You glance over to where Estelle is happily chatting with a small group of other kids her age. She’s animated, her hands gesturing wildly as she tells some story or another. Clearly, she’s inherited your social streak.

“Estelle seems fine,” you point out. “We just have to figure out how to keep these two awake.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his vibranium hand lightly patting Julie’s back. “You mean how to keep them awake without a meltdown.”

“Exactly,” you say, standing up with Liam still clinging to your side. He seems content to stay glued to you for now, his cheek resting against your stomach. You stroke his hair absentmindedly, already brainstorming.

Natasha appears out of nowhere, her sharp eyes taking in the scene. “Looks like bedtime’s creeping up on them,” she says with a smirk. “You two need a strategy?”

“We’re open to suggestions,” you reply, gesturing at Liam and Julie. “We want them to make it to midnight, but…”

Natasha tilts her head thoughtfully. “Maybe some fresh air would help. Take them out to the balcony for a bit. It’s quieter out there, and the cold might perk them up.”

Bucky nods. “That’s not a bad idea. What do you think, doll?”

You shrug. “Worth a shot.”

With that, you gently pry Liam from your leg and scoop him into your arms. He protests half-heartedly but quickly settles, his head drooping against your shoulder. Bucky adjusts Julie, who lets out a sleepy little sigh but doesn’t wake fully, and the two of you make your way toward the balcony.

The cold air hits you immediately as you step outside, and it’s invigorating. The sky is clear, the stars twinkling brightly, and the faint sound of the party inside provides a comforting background hum. Liam stirs slightly in your arms, blinking against the crisp air.

“Hey, buddy,” you say softly. “Feel that? It’s nice out here.”

He mumbles something incoherent, but his eyes stay open. Julie, on the other hand, gives a little shiver, prompting Bucky to wrap her more tightly in his jacket.

“You think this’ll do the trick?” Bucky asks, his breath visible in the cool air.

“Let’s give it a few minutes,” you reply, swaying gently with Liam.

The two of you stand there, side by side, enjoying the rare moment of relative peace. Estelle pokes her head out onto the balcony a few minutes later, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Mom! Dad!” she exclaims, her voice slightly too loud for the serene setting. “There’s a game inside with prizes! Can I play?”

You exchange a glance with Bucky, who nods. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he says. “But stay where we can see you, okay?”

Estelle grins and darts back inside, leaving the two of you alone with the younger two. Liam starts to perk up slightly, his head lifting from your shoulder as he takes in the view of the compound grounds below.

“Are there fireworks?” he asks sleepily.

“Not yet,” you tell him. “They’ll happen at midnight.”

“I want to see them,” he says, his voice firmer now. You take that as a good sign.

Julie stirs again in Bucky’s arms, her big blue eyes blinking open. She glances around, taking in the unfamiliar setting, before giving Bucky a sleepy smile. “Daddy.”

“Hey, baby girl,” Bucky says, his voice as soft as the snowflakes that begin to drift down from the sky. “You waking up a little?”

She nods, resting her tiny hand on his vibranium arm. “Cold,” she murmurs.

“We’ll go back inside soon,” he promises, brushing a kiss against her forehead.

After a few more minutes, you decide it’s time to return to the party. The fresh air has done its job—Liam is more awake now, and Julie is at least partially alert. Once inside, the warmth of the room welcomes you, and the kids seem to adjust quickly.

You and Bucky take turns carrying Julie and coaxing Liam into small activities to keep him occupied. Tony, always the entertainer, steps in at one point with a bubble machine he’s somehow rigged up, and that distracts Liam for a good ten minutes. Estelle reappears briefly to show you the prize she’s won—a small stuffed animal—before darting back to her group of friends.

“Are we actually going to make it to midnight?” you whisper to Bucky as Julie leans heavily against him again, her eyelids drooping.

“We’re stubborn,” he replies with a grin. “The kids get it from us.”

You laugh softly, taking his free hand in yours. “Alright, Sergeant Barnes. Let’s see if we can pull this off.”

The final stretch to midnight begins with a burst of energy you didn’t see coming—mainly from Liam. As the games inside kick off, his drowsiness evaporates like snow in sunlight. The moment he notices kids gathering around Tony, who’s setting up some sort of interactive holographic game, Liam wriggles out of your grasp and bolts across the room.

“Uncle Tony’s got a game!” he shouts, weaving through the crowd like a little rocket.

“Liam!” you call, but he’s already in the thick of it, his excitement contagious. Other kids, Estelle included, gather around Tony as he explains the rules with dramatic flair.

Bucky chuckles, watching Liam’s antics. “Looks like he got his second wind.”

“Lucky him,” you reply, adjusting Julie in your arms. She’s growing heavier by the second, her little head lolling against your shoulder. “Wish I could say the same about this one.”

Julie lets out a soft hum, her eyes fluttering shut. You sigh, exchanging a look with Bucky.

“Almost midnight,” he says, checking the clock on the wall. “Think we can keep her up for the fireworks?”

You cradle Julie closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “We have to try. She’ll be upset if she misses them.”

Bucky steps closer, his vibranium arm resting gently on your back. “Fireworks, huh?” He leans down to nuzzle Julie’s cheek, his voice soft and coaxing. “Hey, baby girl, you wanna see the fireworks? Pretty colors in the sky?”

Julie stirs at the mention of fireworks, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. “Fiwerworks?” she mumbles, her voice slurred with sleep.

“That’s right,” you say, kissing her forehead. “But you have to stay awake for them, okay? Just a little longer.”

Her eyes open a fraction, and she nods weakly, her thumb finding its way back into her mouth. Bucky grins, clearly charmed by her determination. “That’s my girl.”

The promise of fireworks seems to work, and Julie stays semi-alert as the minutes tick by. You and Bucky take turns holding her, walking her around the room to keep her from dozing off completely. Occasionally, she perks up when she hears laughter or music, but it’s clear she’s hanging on by a thread.

Meanwhile, Liam is fully immersed in the games, his earlier sleepiness forgotten. He’s running back and forth with a gaggle of kids, cheering loudly whenever someone scores a point or completes a challenge. Estelle joins in too, though she occasionally glances back at you and Bucky to make sure everything’s okay.

As the final minutes of the year approach, Tony takes the stage to announce the countdown, and the energy in the room shifts. People start gathering near the large glass doors leading to the garden, where the fireworks will be launched. The kids trickle back to their parents, their excitement palpable.

“Mom! Dad!” Liam calls, sprinting over to you with flushed cheeks and wild eyes. “It’s almost time! Can we go outside? Uncle Tony said the fireworks are gonna be HUGE!”

Estelle follows close behind, clutching her prize from earlier and looking equally excited. “I want to see them too!”

“Of course,” you say, smiling at their enthusiasm. “Let’s get our coats.”

You and Bucky bundle the kids up as quickly as possible. Julie, now fully awake at the mention of fireworks, clings to Bucky’s neck as he wraps her in her tiny pink jacket. “Fiwerworks, Daddy!” she says, her earlier sleepiness replaced by anticipation.

“That’s right, princess,” he replies, adjusting her hood. “Let’s go see them.”

The five of you step out into the garden, joining the crowd of partygoers waiting for the show. The night is crisp and clear, the stars twinkling above, and the air buzzes with the thrill of the approaching countdown. Bucky keeps Julie in his arms, her wide eyes scanning the sky, while Liam stands between you both, bouncing on his toes. Estelle stays close, her hand gripping yours tightly.

As the final seconds tick down, the crowd begins to chant. “Ten! Nine! Eight!”

You look up at Bucky, who’s already watching you with a soft smile. His free hand finds yours, squeezing gently. “Happy New Year, doll,” he murmurs, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple.

“Happy New Year, Buck,” you reply, your heart full as you glance at your children, their faces glowing with excitement.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” the crowd cheers as the clock strikes midnight, and the first firework explodes in the sky. It’s a brilliant burst of color—red, gold, and blue—illuminating the garden in dazzling light.

Julie gasps, her tiny hand flying to her mouth. “Oooh!”

Liam lets out a cheer, jumping up and down as more fireworks light up the night. “Look, Mom! Look, Dad!”

Estelle claps her hands, her eyes sparkling as she turns to you. “They’re so pretty!”

You and Bucky exchange a look, a shared understanding passing between you. This moment—surrounded by your children, their laughter and awe filling the air—is everything you could have hoped for. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and you smile against him.

“Happy New Year, Mom and Dad!” Liam shouts, tugging on your hand. “This is the best!”

Bucky laughs, pulling you both into a group hug with Julie still in his arms. “Happy New Year, buddy. It’s just getting started.”

The fireworks die down, and the cheers from the crowd begin to fade into a hum of conversation and laughter. Midnight has come and gone, and while the party is just getting into full swing for most, you and Bucky exchange a knowing look.

The kids, their initial excitement fading, are starting to show signs of exhaustion. Liam tugs at your hand, leaning against your leg, his earlier energy replaced by sleepy eyes and slow movements. Julie rests her head on Bucky’s shoulder, her little hand clutching his jacket. Even Estelle, who usually has the stamina of a marathon runner, yawns widely as she rubs her eyes.

“You ready to call it a night?” Bucky asks, his voice low and warm.

You nod, brushing a strand of hair from Liam’s forehead. “Yeah. They had their moment, but they’re done. And honestly, so am I.”

Bucky chuckles, pressing a kiss to Julie’s temple. “Alright, let’s round them up.”

The kids don’t protest much as you gently guide them toward the door, saying your goodbyes to the Avengers along the way. Natasha gives you a knowing smirk, Sam teases Bucky about being an old man, and Steve promises to stop by for brunch soon. Tony makes a grand gesture of bidding farewell, but even he keeps it brief, clearly understanding the delicate balance of leaving before a kid meltdown.

By the time you reach the car, the crisp night air has lulled the younger two into a state of near-sleep. Bucky carefully buckles Julie into her booster while you help Liam into his car seat. Estelle climbs into the back with minimal fuss, clutching her stuffed animal and leaning her head against the window.

Once everyone is secured, you climb into the passenger seat, exhaling a long breath. Bucky starts the car, and the hum of the engine fills the quiet night. The drive home is peaceful, the streets nearly empty save for the occasional car heading in the opposite direction. The kids are silent, their breathing slow and steady as they drift off.

For a moment, it’s just you and Bucky, the soft glow of streetlights illuminating his profile as he drives. His hand rests on the gear shift, and without thinking, you place yours over it. He glances at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Tired, doll?” he asks, his voice soft.

“A little,” you admit, returning the smile. “But happy. It was a good night.”

Bucky nods, his eyes flicking back to the road. “Yeah. Seeing them light up like that for the fireworks… worth every second.”

You squeeze his hand gently. “And you? You didn’t hate the party?”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “I had you and the kids with me. How could I?”

The quiet comfort between you is palpable, and you take a moment to study him. The way his jawline softens when he’s relaxed, the way his eyes crinkle just slightly when he smiles. You’re about to say something when a small murmur comes from the backseat.

“Daddy…” Julie mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. “Fiwerworks pretty…”

Bucky’s smile widens as he glances at the rearview mirror. “Yeah, princess,” he says softly. “They were pretty.”

By the time you pull into the driveway, all three kids are sound asleep. Bucky kills the engine, and the two of you sit there for a moment, neither wanting to break the spell of the quiet car. Finally, he turns to you with a grin. “Think we can carry them all inside without waking them?”

“Challenge accepted,” you reply with a playful smirk.

Bucky goes for Julie first, carefully unbuckling her from her car seat. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, her head resting on his shoulder as he cradles her against his chest. Meanwhile, you gently coax Liam awake enough to walk inside with your help. He grumbles softly, rubbing his eyes but ultimately lets you guide him.

Once inside, Estelle trudges toward her room on her own, too tired to argue about brushing her teeth or changing into pajamas. Liam makes it to his bed with a similar lack of resistance, flopping down onto his mattress as soon as he’s within range. You manage to get him into a pair of pajamas with minimal effort, though his eyes remain mostly shut the entire time.

Julie is the hardest, her small body limp and heavy in her sleep. Bucky sits on the edge of her bed, holding her upright while you gently pull off her party dress and replace it with her favorite unicorn pajamas. She lets out a sleepy sigh, her thumb slipping back into her mouth as her head lolls against Bucky’s chest.

“Almost done,” you whisper, smoothing her hair back. Bucky’s gaze softens as he looks down at her, his vibranium hand carefully tucking the blanket around her tiny frame once she’s settled in bed.

“She’s out like a light,” he murmurs, standing up and following you out of her room.

With all three kids finally in bed, the house falls into a deep, soothing quiet. You and Bucky make your way to the living room, collapsing onto the couch together. He stretches his arm along the back of the couch, pulling you close as you lean against him.

“Happy New Year, Mrs. Barnes,” he says, his voice teasing but tender.

“Happy New Year, Sergeant Barnes,” you reply, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “We survived another year,” he says with a chuckle.

You laugh softly, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest. “And we’ll survive many more.”

The two of you sit there in the quiet of your home, the promise of a new year stretching out before you, filled with all the chaos, laughter, and love you’ve come to cherish.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

bad mood. l Joel Miller

before Jackson

Summary: bad moods were holding you all, then you found this place

Warnings:  a bit of angst, but they finally make up, Ellie shows up, some swearing, guns, they're pretty mean to each other

A/N: This was requested by the wonderful @underneath-the-sky-again. thank you sweetie. I hope you enjoy it. it's short and boring!❤️

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

It was a difficult time for Joel. 

It all started with the worsening weather - the cold and rain were becoming more and more difficult and made you have to walk on roads that were drowning in mud and puddles. One day Ellie declared that even her underwear was wet and she was tired of this shitty march towards Jackson. 

The shelter you found was of little use and you couldn't stay there for long for fear of riders or other intruders. Then something started happening to you. Joel noticed it immediately. You became quieter, and every time he pointed something out to you ended with a sarcastic comment or an angry look from you.

"Jesus, what's gotten into you..." Joel muttered once, irritated, and at his next remark you just shrugged your shoulders, mumbling something like "Whatever."

Your food supplies were dwindling, and the accommodations didn't allow you to rest. And that fucking weather. Joel knew exactly what was causing the bad moods. And he himself was becoming more grumpy and quiet.

When some buildings appeared on the horizon, you were already so tired that you didn't care anymore - you wanted to get there, hide and catch some sleep.

"It must have been a warehouse of nearby farms." Joel muttered, approaching the metal door.

"Do you think we'll find something to eat there?" Ellie asked hopefully.

Joel shrugged, he didn't want to tell her that he was counting on it too. He readied his weapon, and you did the same, Ellie was supposed to guard the entrance. There was a long, dark corridor in front of you. You both entered and your footsteps echoed quietly inside. 

Soon it got dark and you turned on your flashlights to illuminate the place. Every now and then you passed a door, which you pushed gently, but it was closed.

"Shit." you hissed again, and Joel felt his irritation reaching its limit.

“Stop following me.” he finally muttered, even though he knew it was pointless, he kept repeating that you should stick together "You're going to give me a heart attack."

“Oh, do you want me to walk beside you? Maybe hold hands with you?” you snorted ironically.

You couldn’t see his face well, but you were sure Joel rolled his eyes. He had been annoying you so much lately, that you wanted to get away from him for a moment. With relief, you noticed a corridor leading off to the right.

“I’m going this way.” you declared.

“We should stick together.” he hissed.

“You just told me to fuck off.” you said angrily. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Whatever.”

Fuck. He watched as your flashlight flickered and you moved further and further away from him. If you survived this night and didn’t kill each other, or someone didn’t kill you, Joel would consider it a success.

The corridor continued for some time until he finally stopped in a large room. Overturned shelves, remnants of warehouse equipment, but silence reigned everywhere. On the other side he noticed another door, this time with a sign indicating the cafeteria. 

He was about to grab the door handle when he heard a strange noise from the other side. He put his working ear to the door and began to listen. A strange shuffling, something he couldn't identify. If those were clickers, then you were screwed. He didn't know where you were or if he would be able to find you fast enough.

Something slammed into the door, and then again. Joel adjusted his fingers on the rifle. He could take care of this quickly. If it was one or two clickers... Yeah, he should be able to handle it.

He grabbed the handle and yanked the door open, something fell out from behind it, and Joel aimed the barrel and...

You stared at him, and he saw surprise and fear in your eyes. He felt like something had cut off his power and his knees buckled.

"Fuck!" he groaned "I could have killed you!"

"After the last few days, I wouldn't be surprised." you replied, but you didn't sound too sure "I managed to get into this room, I wanted to get out and..."

Joel nodded, trying to calm his faster heartbeat. Then you lifted something you were holding in your hand. "Look what I found! It's not much, a few cans, but it's still something. I think it's some kind of soup, but I also saw risotto and some stew. Ellie will be happy."

You weren't wrong. As soon as you arranged your stay in one of the rooms, you started heating up what you found. 

When the warm meal filled your stomachs, you immediately felt better. Ellie quickly regained her good mood. Eventually, however, she started yawning. She squeezed herself into the sleeping bag somehow, mumbled a quiet "Night!" and soon you heard her soft breathing.

You took a few sips of tea and adjusted the blanket that was thrown over your shoulders. Joel was sitting against the wall. He stretched his long legs in front of him and folded his arms across his chest, you could see that he was slowly dozing off.

"You should get some sleep." You said quietly, he opened his eyelids lazily "I'll take the first watch."

"No need." he replied, but then yawned.

You chuckled. "Do you want to keep arguing?" he shook his head and reached for the blanket.

He finally laid down. "Sorry I tried to kill you. I thought it was infected."

You looked at him with a smile "It's fine, but next time you should try harder."

He smiled and rubbed his eyelids with his hand. "Yeah, I'll try to remember that."

"Joel?" he looked at you once more, your face wasn't as tense anymore, you seemed more relaxed "I'm sorry I was such a bitch."

"It's fine, but next time you should try harder."

You both laughed quietly. The rain was pattering slower and slower on the roof and soon Joel's quiet snoring informed you that he had fallen asleep too.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven

[letmereedusyou]

i'm not yours - part 3

summary: continuation of the story - You and Daryl are (were?) best friends. He is dating Leah. You told him you loved him and things fell apart. Will it ever go back to normal?

warnings: rough language, verbal fighting, mentions of sex

part 1 | part 2 |

The sun was scorching hot and you felt like you skin was melting. The sweat stains on your top were the proof of just how uncomfortable today's weather was. Skin cancer guaranteed, you thought to yourself jokingly, looking at gentle freckles all over your shoulders. Every single muscle of your body hurt from the hike, but you keep pushing on, determined to make to the cabin that was on the cliff of the mountain.

Oh, yes - the hike. You were approached and asked to go on a scavenging run with Daryl. As much as you hated the idea of being so close to him in complete silence for hours on end, you also thought it would be a good idea to start a conversation with him, maybe explain yourself or just say sorry. So, here you are, on the hike up the hill with Daryl again and the tension between you was so uncomfortable it made your skin itch (although you weren't sure if it was that or the sweat). You kept glancing at him from time to time, but his gaze was fixed at the top of hill.

He was wearing his signature angel wing vest over a black buttoned shirt with the sleeves torn off for more comfort sun. Two of the buttons were undone and showing his chest hair. His black pants had a few holes in them but completed the all-black look he always went for. His boots were worn off, with Beth's red and black laces around them. He always said it was to remember her and you thought it was really sweet of him.

Your whole journey up the hill was quiet, only the footsteps and heavy breathing from both of you, and occasional walker growl.

The cabin stands out against the wild backdrop, its wooden walls weathered and sturdy, exuding an air of rustic charm. The pitched roof glistens under the afternoon sun. From your vantage point, you can see the large windows on both levels, offering a glimpse into the cosy interior. A wooden deck wraps around the cabin, providing a perfect spot to take in the breathtaking views of the surrounding peaks and valleys.

For a moment, you pause, taking it all in. The sight of the cabin, a beacon of comfort and respite, fills you with a sense of accomplishment and anticipation. After the challenges of the climb, the thought of resting in that cabin, sipping a hot drink by the fire, feels like the ultimate reward.

Daryl, on the other hand, doesn't even stop. He keeps pushing on, with no regard that you are not following him. He was never one to observe beautiful things, to get lost in them or admire them in any way. He always had his rational head on his shoulders. You sigh and run towards the cabin, catching up to him. You both get inside the cabin, banging on the walls gently to seek out any walkers that may be stuck in here. When you find there isn't any, you put your weapons down.

"I'll take this floor, you can take upstairs," he suddenly says, the first words he's spoken to you in weeks. You shoot him a surprised look, but quickly regain composure.

"Okay," you say, not really knowing how to react and you quickly make your way upstairs.

You couldn't ignore how your heart thumped in your chest when he finally opened his mouth to speak to you. It felt a bit surreal, strange, like you forgot how his voice sounds. You've heard him speak around Alexandria, of course, but you forgot how it sounded when it was directed to you. Even though, this time, it was cold and distant, you were still happy that he did speak. There was a glimmer, a tiny flame of hope inside of you that believed that not all was lost.

When you finally get upstairs, you go through every cupboard and every nook and cranny there was to make sure you're not missing anything. You find a few cans of stashed food, a bottle of alcohol and a small first aid kit in the bathroom. That was quite a bit, especially in the times you were living in, and taking that you're probably not the first people who found this cabin. You liked to believe that whoever was staying here or stumbled upon this place, was gracious enough to leave some supplies for the next person.

You were just about to leave one of the bedroom when you catch a glimpse of a box. You stop and turn curiously towards it, stepping closer. It was a small, wooden box with initials "P.N." engraved on top. You grazed the letters with your fingers, wondering who this could've belonged to, wondering about the name and if they're still alive. Once you open the box, you see a few things - a hairbrush with a silver handle, a cassette tape and a pink notebook. Journal, you immediately thought and hesitated while reaching for it. You felt like maybe you were invading someone's privacy, even in the zombie filled, no-actual-toilets-peeing-in-the-woods type of world, but eventually you decided to read it.

You take the cassette tape in hand first and read the label. "80s hits" and you smile, before you choose to stuff it into your pocket. Then, you take out the notebook with the same initials written on the front cover, and you sit down on the bed, the spring squeak under your weight. You open the notebook a couple pages in and read:

September 21th, 1991

Dear Diary,

Tom and I had sex! For the first time! I can't believe it. Me and Tom? I thought it would never happen... Tom is so popular, and every girl at school wants him and yet, he is here with me and parents, at the cabin for the weekend! With me!!! OMG, it's like a dream. My mum and dad went to the nearest town for some supplies and we stayed in. WE HAD SEX IN MY PARENTS BED! Tom said it was amazing. I think so too... I hope we can do it a lot more from now on!

You read some more pages and you find out that they, indeed, had more sex over the months of their relationship, in many places, including school broom closet, under the bleachers and in Tom's car. Then, they've broken up because Tom cheated on her. The little bastard thought it was okay to have two girlfriend at the same time.

"You done with searching?" he asks gruffly, looking at you, and you jump in your place, not realising he was there. Your stupid grin that you probably had on your face for the entire time you were reading falters a little and you nod.

"Yeah. Yeah, done," you manage to say, scrambling up to your feet and put the journal back in the box, closing it with a bang.

"What's that?" he asks, frowning. You follow his gaze to your jeans pocket where you stashed away the cassette.

"Some of the best hits from the 80s," you say, trying to make a conversation, just like ones you had before you told him you loved him and ruined everything. "I thought we could listen to it in the car on our way back."

"That's what you spent your time doing? Reading someone's diary and searching for cassettes?" he asks, crossing his arms on his chest. You could tell by the accusatory tone of his voice that he wasn't happy.

"No," you say scowling at him. "I've got supplies. Had some time to spare. Saw the box..."

"Spare me the details, would ya," he cuts in. "I guess, I shouldn't be surprised. It's not the first time you've decided to mess with something that isn't yours. You're not taking the cassette. Put it away and let's go."

You blank him for a minute as you are taken back straight to that look he gave you when you confessed. That look still stopping your heart and sending a sinking feeling through your entire being. GOD! ‚Kinda hard to give a chance to someone who has everything you want.’ That stupid sentence that started all this. Me admitting that Leah had everything you wanted and him pointing out that you have messed up by stomping my boots on something that wasn’t mine to have to begin with… Almost as you think it, you are snapped back to reality by him closing the distance between you with a deep guttural growl.

He scowls at you, causing you take a hesitant step back as you see a lingering deep hatred below the surface of his eyes.

"Excuse me?" you ask, surprised at what he's just said and how he clearly remembered what you said weeks ago. Your heart aches a little, the weight of the words crush onto you again. There was so much annoyance behind the words, that it took you aback a little. You look at him, the wrinkle between your eyebrows deepens.

"Ya heard me. Put it down."

"No."

He looked like he was about to roll his eyes and put his own hand in the pocket of your jeans and take it out but he doesn't. You can see it in your eyes - he was not happy. In fact, it felt like he was getting a bit angry at you for some reason. You didn't understand why and frankly, you couldn't care less. All you know is that you are taking the cassette with you.

He takes a step towards you, but then he shakes his head ever so slightly and his frown grows deeper.

"We are here for supplies. Not for fun,” he grits his teeth, his jaw clenching. „Not for you to pick some silly, little cassettes and have jolly old time in the car.”

„I am sure you’d say the same thing to Leah if she was here with you instead of me” you say sarcastically, your eyes never leaving his. And then you try to imitate his voice. „No, Leah, we can’t, we’re supposed to be… oh, god, Leah…” you make the noises of kissing, some moaning and grunting. „…all while her hand is in your pants.”

He looks like he’s surprised for a long minute, maybe because he wasn’t expecting you to say anything like that. You knew exactly what they were doing on their ‚supply runs’ together. Everybody did. No one is stupid enough to believe that they haven’t done anything but searching for supplies. You could even admit to yourself that you thought about fucking him in the places you went to for supply runs, so there was no reason for you to believe him and Leah weren’t. Then, his eyes darkened with anger.

„You should learn to shut the fuck up.”

"What? Did I struck a nerve, bitch boy?" the words came out of your mouth, cold and cutting. You were looking at Daryl, whose eyes were now wide open and scanning you like he didn't recognise you.

„What the fuck is wrong with you?” he shakes his head in disbelief and finally takes a step back, freeing your personal space.

„Apparently everything,” you say. „Apparently, I am just supposed to accept Leah, be friendly with her, after it took you the whole of three seconds to begin to like her!”

„Just shut it before you say something you’re not supposed to.”

„Like what? Like I hate Leah?! Because, spoiler alert, I do. So fucking much!”

„I swear to God…” he seethes through his teeth and then takes a deep breath, his shoulders slump a little, before he speaks in much calmer voice. „Put the cassette back. It’s not yours.”

„Oh, please…” you scoff, rolling your eyes. „You only are so adamant for me to put the cassette back, because you’re pissed at me for falling in love with you. There is no other reason for it. Which is fair. I know it wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to love you like this. When I first met you, I never thought that you’d be someone who I will ache for, whose name bring me a nostalgic pain and yet here we are!”

„Goddamnit!” he roars at you before putting his hands inside your jeans pocket, takes the cassette out and then throw it on the ground. His big boot stomps on it hard and the cassette cracks under his weight. Somehow, it was a great metaphor for how your heart felt. Stomped, broken, torn apart, in pieces. „You and me? Never gonna happen. Get that inside your tiny little head and stop fucking bothering me.”

You open your mouth to say something else but he already started walking away from you, slamming the doors on his way out. Your fists clench almost as hard as your heart does. You knew that this friendship is ruined, especially now after this argument, and there is no saving it. It's done, folded in a little envelope and sent away into the flames of despair and hurt. You knew Daryl well enough to know he's never been able to process emotions, especially love. And now, knowing that his best friend is in love with him, it probably only adds to his confusion.

You decide to descend from the mountain and head back to Alexandria. You couldn't see Daryl anywhere and once you reach the truck, you see the keys, that were usually in Daryl's pocket, are now in the ignition. You took that as a sign to just get the hell out of here. You had no idea where he was, but next to you was probably the last place he wanted to be.

Turning the key, you let the engine roar to life. The drive was long and the silence was deafening.

A/N: part 4 coming soon! 🖤

[venic-bxtch]

✧༺༻∞Off to the Races✧༺༻∞

•Chapter 2•

WC: 2633(ish)

TW: age gap(Rafe is in his 40s, reader is in their early twenties), cussing, and SMUTTT

Rafe opened the front door to his mansion, letting you go in first and he followed after. He took your hand loosely, as if he hadn’t done even more earlier that night, and led you to the dining room. He pulled out a chair for you and you coyly sat on it. You looked around the room in awe; you saw a mural on the wall, it was a painted version of the Outer Banks. You looked up to the ceiling to see a grand chandelier mostly made up out of glass, except for the light bulbs and the chain hanging it from the ceiling.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Rafe chuckled. “I’ll go get us our food. Feel free to walk around or have a drink. I shouldn’t be too long, though.” Rafe gave you a kind smile.

You nodded, still in awe of the room. “Okay, Mr. Cameron.” You returned his smile.

As soon as he stepped out of the room, you got up — tracing your fingers along the map, walking around the room. Then you stopped on one of the display cases for dishes and trophies, stumbling across a picture of a younger version of Rafe and a woman by his side. You squinted your eyes, trying to figure out if you’d seen her before, but heavy footsteps interrupted you and you scurried back to your chair.

Rafe walked in with two white porcelain plates with silver covers on them, and placed a plate in front of you. “Hope you like steak.”

You nodded. “I do, Mr. Cameron. Thank you.”

He pulled his chair closer to you, your faces now so close you could feel his breath on your face. “Y’ don’t have to call me Mr. Cameron all the time, Darlin’” he stroked your cheek with his thumb, smirking, making your skin chill. “Y’ got that?”

You nodded without sound, a fire burning in the pit of your stomach.

“Good, now finish up your dinner so you can get some sleep. We’ll talk about business tomorrow, Darlin’.”

You again nodded without a word, and got to work on your steak.

Once both of you had finished your painfully silent dinner, he led you up to the room you’d be sleeping in. The space was elegant yet understated—soft cream walls, a canopy bed draped in pink floral linen, and a large window overlooking the property. A dresser in the room held neatly folded white, pink, and floral clothing.

Rafe pointed to the drawer… “There’s some clothes in there, they’re washed, don’t worry.” He kissed the top of your head, before closing the door behind him. “Goodnight, Darlin’.”

“Goodnight.” You said quietly. You walked to the dresser and opened it; it held white articles of clothing, some pink ones, and some floral.

You wondered who these clothes belonged to. You found a white tank top with lace along the hem and some gray pj shorts. You placed them on the bed and walked to the bathroom. The bathroom had elegant marble counters, a clawfoot tub with gold legs, and a basic shower with some body washes and soap. You found a Victoria’s Secret robe hanging behind the door. You discarded your dress and put the robe on. You then brushed your teeth, washed your face, and took a shower.

You sat at the vanity, applying the Vaseline from your bag and storing your jewelry inside it. You turned off the big light and turned on the side table lamps on your way to your bed. You sunk into the absolute comfort of the blanket and mattress; and just as you were about to close your eyes, your phone lit up.

It was a text from Kayden.

You were about to answer, but you just couldn’t shake off his words.

His words “I love you, Y/n” kept replaying in your mind. You shook your head and closed your eyes, but you opened them twice as quick. After what felt like forever, the sun finally poured into the room. You kept your eyes open all night. You sat up and stretched before you went to the bathroom to brush your teeth and shower. You found some jean shorts and a white tube top to pull on, then you found some slides that were just your size. You put your jewelry on and brushed your hair with the mini hairbrush in your bag.

As you sat in the hanging chair, phone in hand, the pieces started falling into place. You weren’t naive—you’d seen the way Rafe looked at you, like you were some prize he was determined to claim. His obsession was almost palpable, lingering in the air whenever he was around you. At first, it had made you nervous, unsure of how to navigate his intensity. But now? Now you saw it for what it really was: leverage.

Rafe Cameron wanted you, and you wanted a career. It wasn’t a matter of emotions or romance; it was a matter of opportunity. If he was so eager to help you, why not let him? Why not lean into his infatuation just enough to get where you needed to be? He’d offered you a lifeline, and you’d be a fool not to take it. You decided to text your friends to let them know you were alive.

After sending the texts, you got up and walked through the room, glancing at yourself in the mirror. Your reflection stared back. You could do this. You weren’t going to let anyone—Kayden, or anyone else—get in the way of what you wanted. And if Rafe’s obsession could make the climb to the top a little easier, you weren’t above letting him indulge in it.

This wasn’t about playing it safe anymore. You’d noticed the game, and now, you were ready to play it.

You heard a soft knock. “Can I come in?” You heard a raspy voice behind the door. Rafe. His voice sent a pleasant shiver through you.

“Yep!” you chirped.

He opened the door slowly, and stepped in looking devastatingly handsome, wearing a white Tommy Hilfiger polo shirt and some black pants. He was wearing gold Cuban links around his neck, and his signet ring on his right hand. He was holding some papers, presumably the paperwork he talked you about yesterday.

You stood up to meet him in the middle of the room. ”How’d you sleep, Mr. Cameron?”

He licked his lips, his gaze scanning you over. “Uhm, good… What about you, Darlin’?” His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Good!” You smiled brightly, lying through your teeth.

He chuckled. “Perfect. I’ve got the paperwork here,” he handed it to you. “You can read it over, I’ll be in my office.” He was about to walk out, but you stopped him by placing a hand on his arm.

You hesitated for a moment, then looked up at him. “Oh, no need! I trust you, Mr. Cameron. You wouldn’t try to hurt me,” you said, your gaze unwavering, confidence in your voice.

He smirked, flattered by your trust in him and the way you exuded certainty. “Alright.” He pointed to where you should sign, “Sign here.”

You signed quickly, without hesitation. That could have been the biggest mistake of your life, but you didn’t care. Anything to make it. He sighed. “I’ll mail this to my secretary at my record label’s office. You’re a perfect fit for us.”

You gasped. “You own a record label?!” you tilted your head to the side.

He nodded, smirking. “Course I do. Velvet Tides Records.” He gave you a big, wide, cheesy smile.

“Perfect!” you squealed.

He chuckled. “Great… How’d you like to come golfing with me?” Rafe only asks women he’s interested in to go golfing with him.

You nodded quickly. “I would love to go! But what should I wear?”

He walked over to the dresser, squatted down to the bottom drawer, and rummaged for a few seconds. “Alright,” he said, handing you a white polo golfing dress with navy blue hemming. “We can stop by the Nike store to get you some tennis shoes.” He gave you a smile as he stood up, and placed his golfing hat on your head. “Let’s go.”

He walked out of the room, and you followed behind him.

As he promised, he bought you a pair of white Air Force Ones. You put them on in the car, and soon you were off to the course. At the golf course, as you expected, you saw Mr. Thorton and his daughters.

Lottie saw you, gasped, and ran to you, Nora followed behind her, Lottie squealed,”Y/N!!!” She hugged you tightly.

“We literally missed you!!!” Nora shook you.

You smirked,”Calm down.” You giggled,”I’m here.”

“Sooo, let’s go talk by the golf cart and talk.” Lottie dragged you over there.

Nora raised an eyebrow,”Sooooo, you and Mr. Cameron?”

You rolled your eyes,”What about him?”

“He looks at you like you’re a snack, he wants to fuck you.” Lottie said in a singsongy voice.

“No he does not.” You snorted, but looked over to Mr. Cameron, who was staring intensely into your eyes….then Kayden ruined it. Kayden smiled and ran over to you.

“Anyways, what’s the deal-“ Nora scrunched up her nose and side eyed her brother.

“Y/n! Hey! How are ya’.” Kayden smiled big.

Lottie shoved him away,”She does not wanna talk to you.”

Nora crossed her arms and nodded,”Mhm!”

You sighed,”Y’all don’t know what went down…..”

Kayden scoffed,”For real.”

You narrowed your eyes,”And you don’t know what he did.”

He scoffed again, crossing his arms,”What I did!? Y/n! You left me hanging, you walked out!”

You walked over to him, pressing your finger into his chest,”You lied! Then you told me you loved me!”

“I didn’t lie about what Mr. Cameron did!” He put his hands up in surrender.

“Oh yes you did!”

“How would you know? Huh?”

“Know what?” Lottie and Nora said in unison.

“Mr. Cameron killed Officer Peterkin.”

You pushed him,”Stop lying! I’m done with you! You just don’t want to find easier ways to get where I wanna be!”

“Y/n! Just listen to me! I know-“ He was interrupted by his father, you grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Hey Kayden, let’s leave the girls alone to talk, this ain’t your place.” Mr. Thorton took his son back to where some of the other men were talking.

You sighed,”That’s what went down..”

“So Kayden love bombed you, told you that he know what Mr. Cameron wants, and that he killed an officer.” Nora furrowed her brows.

“Yep. I told him it would never work, he’s a kook, I’m from the cut.” You looked into the view.

“Oh right, he’s had a massive crush you since like sophomore year.” Lottie sighed.

“Right, he told me y’all knew.” You shook your head,”I’m done with him. He just can’t go a single day without doing something stupid.” You focused on Mr. Cameron that was literally giving Kayden the death stare.

“Hey, you should totally make him jealous. You know, you have connections with Mr. Cameron, he’s obsessed. He has a record label, and he’s helping you boost your career right?” Lottie asked, smirking.

You nodded. “Yeah, I signed paperwork this morning,” you said, furrowing your brows.

“Right. You’re gonna date Mr. Cameron,” Nora gasped.

You blinked. “What?!”

“I mean, Kayden sees Mr. Cameron as a threat. You’d be killing him, basically.” Lottie sighed. “I love my brother and all, but he deserves this…”

“He does…” Nora chimed in, then giggled. “Now, go to Mr. Cameron, twirl your hair or something, hold his arm, and ask him to teach you how to golf. This works perfectly on any guy, I do this on trips to Martha’s Vineyard,” she said matter-of-factly.

“But he’s not just any guy…” You took a deep breath, pensive. “Okay, I’ll try it.” You were nervous out of your mind. You never flirted with anybody, not even Kayden. You put a smile on your face and skipped over to Rafe, just as Nora told you.

You looked up to him with your beautiful doe eyes, and held onto his arm. “Mr. Cameron?”

He gulped at how your little fingers wrapped around his bicep. He looked down at you, fixing your baseball hat (more like his). “What’s up, Darlin’?”

“Do you think you could teach me how to golf?” you asked, your voice a little higher-pitched, but not too annoying.

He sucked his teeth. “Not right now, Darlin’. I’m talkin’ business.”

“But you said you came here to golf,” you whined, pouting. “Pleaseeee? I’ll leave you alone after!” You saw Kayden, who was clearly pissed off, out of the corner of your eye. It worked…

He inhaled. “Fine…” He put his arm around your shoulders as he turned his head to his friends. “I’ll be right back, guys.” All of his friends nodded.

Mr. Thornton chuckled. “Take your time,

man.”

You smirked at Kayden as you turned around to walk away with Rafe.

Rafe led you closer to the course and handed you a golf club.

“Alright,” he put his hands around you to help you correct your form. His tone was low… “You don’t wanna bend over too much, and loosen your grip on the handle.” You nodded and did as he said. “There ya go. Now go for it.”

You hit the golf ball, and it made it into the hole. You smiled. “Did I do it right?” you beamed.

He nodded. “You were perfect.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Now, I’m gonna go talk to my friends, alright?”

“Wait! Can you watch me do a few more?” You grabbed onto his arm again, tightening your grip around him.

He sighed. “You’re way too convincing.” He leaned down and whispered in your ear, “You owe me later.” He pulled back and smirked.

You giggled, then bit your lip, knowing what he was probably implying. “Okay.” You hit a few more hole-in-ones, and Rafe applauded you for every single one.

“Good job. You’re a pro!” He smiled proudly, making your cheeks heat up.

“Thank you!” you chirped.

“No problem,” he crossed his arms. ”Hey, uhm, how about we go back to my car? I wanna talk to you, uhm, privately.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

You smiled brightly and nodded. “Sure!” He grinned and put his hand on your lower back, with the golf club in his other hand, guiding you toward his car. You waved at Lottie and Nora who were squealing.

Rafe handed Kayden his golf club. “Thanks for letting us borrow this.” Kayden tossed the club on the ground and scoffed.

The walk back to the car was quiet but charged. Once inside, Rafe shut the door and turned toward you, his gaze burning into yours.

“You’ve got me all wrapped up, Darlin’,” he said, voice thick with unspoken intentions. You cocked your head to the side. “Hm. I couldn’t tell,” you teased, giggling.

He shook his head, smirking. “What do you want, Darlin’?”

“Well…” you dragged out. “We trust each other, and I wanna make someone jealous.” You smirked.

He chuckled, but felt a bit hurt on the inside. “Really? Who?” He pretended not to know.

You shrugged. “You’d know.”

“Kayden Thorton?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking.

You snapped your fingers and pointed at him. “Right on the money!”

He crossed his arms. “Why?” His gaze was curious.

“He love-bombed me, said that you killed Peterkin, and that you want something else from me.” You counted to three on your fingers.

He sighed. “I did kill Peterkin.” He locked eyes with you, stroking your cheek. “You gotta understand, I was just doin’ it to protect my sister.” His eyes pleaded for your understanding.

“Why?”

“She was with I guy I didn’t trust, but all’s good now.” He nodded. “Back to you…”

“Okay, that’s nice of you.” You smiled.

“But uhm, I just wanna be seen with you, it’s gonna make him go crazy.” You didn’t realize how bad it sounded until you said it yourself.

“So, just in public so you can get him back, or?” Rafe asked, a little disappointed.

You smirked, ignoring the part about Kayden. “In public and in private, if you’re okay with that, Mr. Cameron.”

“I’m more than okay, baby.” He chuckled. “Who’s gonna believe we’re actually dating if you keep calling me Mr. Cameron?” He gently pulled your face closer to his.

You shook your head, smiling. “No one, Mr. Cameron.” You giggled.

“Right, so quit it.” He licked his lips. “Quit acting innocent, I know you’re the exact opposite.”

You rolled you eyes. “Shut up.” Just as you were thinking of what to say next, he suddenly put his lips against yours, catching you off-guard.

Your lips quickly accepted his, and his and yours started to move together in perfect sync. He groaned softly against your lips, his large hands cupping your face as he deepened the kiss. His thumb brushed against your cheekbone, his touch firm yet surprisingly tender. You felt the heat radiating off him as he tilted his head, taking control effortlessly. His lips were warm, insistent, and the taste of him—a mix of mint and something darker, intoxicating—lingered on your tongue.

You gasped when he nipped at your bottom lip, his smirk breaking the kiss momentarily.

“What’s wrong, Darlin’? Can’t handle it?” he teased, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

You arched a brow, challenging him. “I can handle more than you think,” you shot back, your voice low but steady.

Rafe’s grin widened. “Oh, I know.” He surged forward again, capturing your lips with renewed fervor. One of his hands slid down to rest on your thigh, his fingertips grazing just enough to make your pulse race. The other hand tangled in your hair, holding you firmly in place as his lips moved against yours like you were the only thing in the world.

Your hands gripped his biceps, feeling the tension in his muscles. When his hand on your thigh shifted higher, your breath hitched. Rafe pulled back slightly, just enough to study your face. His blue eyes were dark, filled with something raw and unspoken, but most of all, they were full of curiosity.

“You sure you wanna play this game, Darlin’?” he murmured, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “Once we start, I don’t think I can stop.”

Before you could respond, the sound of a sharp knock on the car window startled you both. You jumped, whipping your head around to see Kayden standing there, his arms crossed and his jaw tight, glaring at the two of you through the glass.

Rafe let out a low curse, clearly annoyed, but his smirk never faltered. He leaned back into his seat, his hand sliding off your thigh, but not before giving it a playful squeeze. “Guess we’ve got an audience,” he muttered, his tone dripping with pride and laced with sarcasm.

You sank back into your seat, your cheeks burning as Kayden gestured for Rafe to roll down the window. Rafe ignored him entirely, turning back to you with a cocky grin. “What do you say we take this somewhere more private?” he suggested, smirking as his voice dropped low and deliberate.

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat. “Yeah, I love that idea.” He chuckled, his hand finding yours as he shifted the car into drive. “Good girl. Let’s go home, Darlin’.”

As you and Rafe entered his house, he immediately picked you up, with you instinctively wrapping your legs against his waist. You immediately pressed your lips to his, and he immediately took charge. The kiss was slow at first, deliberate and sultry, as if he was savoring every second. His lips moved against yours with practiced ease, coaxing you into a rhythm that made your head spin.

When you finally entered his bedroom, he carefully lowered you to the floor, his hands lingering for a moment to make sure you were steady. He closed the door, and pushed you against it. He placed his hand on your jaw as he started to leave wet kisses all over your neck and collarbone.

“Hmmm, Rafe,” you moaned in a low voice.

“You like that, sweet girl?” You nodded, unable to form words.

His other hand lowered to find your waist, pulling you closer. You felt his fingers curl into the fabric of your dress, bunching it slightly as he pressed his body against yours, which made you feel his hard-on against you.

“Fuck, Rafe.”

He smirked against your neck, before bringing his head back up to reconnect his lips with yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, and he groaned softly against your lips, the sound sending a jolt of electricity straight through you. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and you granted him access without hesitation, the kiss deepening into something raw and consuming.

He picked you up again and shuffled through his room, gently laying you down on his bed. “So fucking beautiful. I’m gonna make you mine, baby girl.” He laid on top of you, capturing your lips in a kiss for what felt like the millionth time.

For a few moments, there was only the warmth of his body pressing against yours, the taste of his lips, and the steady rhythm of his tongue. You were lost in the sensations of Rafe.

As the kiss deepened, his hands roamed over you, exploring your body with a sense of urgency. When he finally pulled away, his breath hot against your skin, he smirked.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he muttered against your mouth, his words a low growl.

You barely managed a breathless laugh. “And you talk too much,” you shot back, tugging him down to meet you again.

Rafe chuckled, the vibration of it low and warm against your lips. “Fair enough,” he murmured, before his lips claimed yours once more.

His hands roamed lower, sliding under you, between your body and the bed, resting just below your ass, under your dress. His cold hands sent a shiver through you, making you whimper.

He started sucking your neck slowly. “Needy girl.” He removed his hands from your ass and brought his head back up. He cupped the side of your face, making your breath hitch. You opened your mouth to say something—anything really, but before you could, his lips were on yours, stealing the words right off your tongue.

As he started the kiss, he moved one hand into your panties, rubbing your clit slowly. He groaned. “Fuck, you’re so wet f’me. Gonna make this pussy mine.”

His fingers started slowly drawing circles on your clit, the feeling too delicious to be true. You held onto his bicep like your life depended on it. “Rafeeee,” you moaned. You couldn’t take it anymore, you needed him.

As if he could read your mind he increased his pace, demolishing your clit. He then inserted two fingers inside you, quickly pumping in and out of you. “I’ll get this dress off ya’ soon.”

You gasped. “Rafee, I’m gonna cum.” You dug your nails into his neck, closing your eyes in pleasure.

“Hol’ on f’me.” He whispered and kissed your neck one last time before gently taking your dress off, revealing a blue Victoria’s Secret set with white lace and white bows.

He let out a low whistle. “You knew what you were doing, didn’t ya?”

You shook your head, lying. “I didn’t!” You giggled, trying not to cum as he told.

“Liar.” He smirked, yanking your panties off. He dragged his tongue torturingly slow against your slit, making you whimper. He kept on pumping two fingers in and out of your cunt.

“This what you wanted, right?”

You nodded through your moans. “Yes, daddy!” He took that as a sign to get rid of his fingers and spread your pussy replacing his fingers with his tongue, making swirls in your cunt.

You gasped out. “Rafee! Don’t stop!” You held onto his head while he ate you out and he held tightly onto your thighs.

You groaned. “I’m gonna cum!”

He pulled his head back, putting his fingers back in you. “Let go f’me baby.” You came with a whimper, and he pulled his fingers out, finally tasting you.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet.” He kissed your stomach, before standing up to undress himself.

He pumped his cock a few times before lining himself up and slowly easing himself in. He groaned. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He increased his pace. He leaned over you making makeshift handcuffs with his free hand, which wrapped your wrists perfectly.

“So tight, Darlin’” he grunted as his tip hit your cervix.

Your eyes rolled back. ”Oh my gosh, don’t stop!” you squealed.

He went as fast as he could. “I ain’t stopping any time soon, sweet thing.” Rafe straightened back up and moved your hands to your stomach, doing the same thing he did earlier.

With every stroke Rafe’s breaths were short and quick. “Fuckk, you feel s’ good around me, squeeze my cock jus’ like that.” You squeezed around him more, which made him groan, close his eyes, and throw his head back.

“Yeah, jus’ like that, sweetheart.” He nodded.

“Was making him jealous really the reason you are letting me fuck you? Or is making him jealous just a benefit of what you already wanted to happen, regardless of him?” He looked into your eyes, a serious look on him, searching your face for an answer.

“No, I already wanted you, daddy. Been wanting this since I met you, you fucking me this good…”

He groaned. “Fucking good girl, fucking good girl,” he said before taking his finger to your clit, rubbing it intently.

You whimpered. “I’m gonna cum, Rafe!”

He smirked. “Can’t hear ya’! Be a lil louder for me. I wanna hear you.”

You agreed and basically screamed. “OH MY GOD! Shit! I’m gonna cum, Rafeee.” You squeezed your eyes shut.

He slowed his pace, using his free hand to stoke your cheek. “Cum f’me baby, you did so well f’me. Let go f’me.” He grunted, then increased his pace. You came with a loud cry.

“That’s it, baby girl. I’m almost there, Darlin’” he slurred out. You nodded and closed your eyes as you came down from your high. A few seconds later, he pulled out and released on your stomach.

He sighed, collapsing on the bed next to you. “That was—“ he closed his eyes, smirking. “That was the best I’ve had in a while, I hadn’t come that quick in so long.” He kissed you for a few seconds before pulling away. You smiled as you rolled over on your side.

“Good to know.” You smiled proudly. You sat up, sighing. ”I’m gonna go clean up!”

He practically jumped up. “I’m coming with ya.” He picked you up from the bed and carried you to the bathroom.

“Maybe after this we’ll go shopping and get you some new clothes, would you like that?” he asked with thoughtful eyes.

You nodded. “Mhm… I’d like that,” you replied, giving him a sweet smile.

Taglist: @strawberries-and-lots-of-kisses (MY AMAZING BETA READER TYSMM💗💗), @blackynsupremacy @vogueprincess @whoreislands

[thecoffeelorian]

I'm At Soup! (TBB Edition)

Title: I'm At Soup!

Fandom: Star Wars/The Bad Batch

Characters Involved: Crosshair, Batcher, Hunter, and Wrecker

WC: 486/Under 1k.

A/N: This is the one-shot to celebrate me reaching 300 followers on Tumblr! Thank you all for getting me here, and let me also tag the following people specifically:

No Pressure Tags:

@oraleandreu @gun-roswell @harmless--dreamer @built-on-hope-1977 @orangez3st

@hellhoundmaggie @lulalovez @momojedi @lazyprofessorpursesalad @still-nix-d-goffic

@archivewriter1ont @cloneflo99 @tink1221 @leapingbadger and anybody else who would like something funny to read. :D

Don't call unless it's an emergency, Hunter had requested, wanting nothing less than near perfect silence during his latest shopping trip. Under normal circumstances, Crosshair would have done just that, as he already had first-hand experience with being overwhelmed and also wasn't all that eager to force others to go through the same thing.

However...no thanks to Batcher having run off ten minutes ago, her confusion as to whether or not the moon-yos of Pabu were living animals or squeaky toys, it was unfortunately time to call in the reinforcements.

Specifically, calling up Hunter himself over the commlink, all the while he himself stood at attention by the dining room table.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Cross, what's up?"

"I need your help, can you come here?"

"Uh, I can't, I'm buying clothes."

"Alright, well..."

Letting out a small sigh, Crosshair just shrugged and continued with the call. Best not to overthink the situation, after all...yet.

"...Hurry up and come over here."

"I can't find them."

What.

"What do you mean, you can't find them?"

"I can't find them, there's only soup."

A small crackle of static popped over the system, then an awkward silence followed...and curiously enough, no 'Gotcha' or other hints that this was just one big joke from Hunter.

"What do you mean, 'there's only soup'?"

"It means there's only soup!"

"Well then, get out of the soup aisle!"

"All right! You don't have to shout at me!"

Next came the sound of footsteps as Hunter continued down a different aisle, a small huff of annoyance, and then--

"--There's more soup."

"What do you mean there's more soup?"

"There's just more soup!"

Two aisles of soup now...? This was getting out of hand, and no, that wasn't a round of self-deprecating humor.

It. Was. Madness.

"Go into the next aisle!"

"There's still soup!"

"Where are you right now?!"

"I'm at soup!"

At Soup?! How could any Trooper in the known galaxy, be it far far away or a few klicks ahead, suddenly be 'At Soup'?!

"What do you mean you're "at soup?"

"I mean I'm at soup!"

"What store are you in?!"

"I'm at the soup store!"

"Why are you buying clothes at the soup store?"

"Kriff you!"

Both Troopers turned off their ends of the commlink with a loud slap, each of them so frustrated with the other that they most likely would not be on speaking terms for the next hour.

Back on Crosshair's end, he would merely shake his head in disgust before going off in search of the dog treats, if only to give Batcher a reason to come running the moment he jostled the bag loudly enough.

On Hunter's end, however...he would be comforted with one of Wrecker's hands upon his shoulder, along with the following vote of confidence:

"I think we're gonna have to stun this guy, Sarge."

"Dank Ferrik," Hunter sighed in return. Today just wasn't his day.

[haveihitanerve]

hey, i loved the way you wrote my idea, the kind of adams proyect fits so well the sassy children Dick, Jason and Stephanie were and still are. I do consider Stephanie Bruce's daughter, they have such potencial is a pity we don't see more of them together. It was lovely, maybe you can do me a second one

Bruce is de aged at an age were he has been training for a while but not batman, this kinda scary teenager version of Bruce sees his future sons and daughters and realize hes not alone anymore, he has a family.

If you can't do it is okey, i enjoyed the other two fics you write, have a wonderfull day.

ohohohohoho these asks just keeping getting better- thank you so much and yesss i love steph and bruce so much they are like two sides of the same coin and its a downright shame we dont see more of them in canon- anyway onto the ask

"Look deep into your mind. Silence all else. This is between you and your soul."

The monk's voice was soothing, belaying his hard exterior(and interior if Bruce was being honest- if the man was golden at heart he had yet to see it) but Bruce ignored everything, focusing instead on the cold wind, the feel of his bare toes slowly numbing, the nice feeling of the snow against his bruised ribs.

He was buried up to his torso in snow, only his chest and head above it, arms laying flat on top, eyes closed. It was a new form of meditation, one he had only recently "earned" as the next step in his training.

He wasn't entirely sure what use the freezing-his-balls-off-while-meditating was going to do for him, but he figured the monk had at least some idea of what he was doing, even if he was a little harsh.

But the methods were necessary. All of it was necessary. To do the mission, to pursue his path. To become the Batman and free Gotham of crime. He was alone, his family was dead, the least he could do was dedicate everything to honoring them.

"I will return for you at dawn. Do not move. Do not open your eyes. I will know if you do."

The monk murmured, snow crunching underneath his feet as he circled Bruce, like a wolf circling its prey. Bruce hardly resisted the Gotham-honed instinct to flip him off, focusing instead on his breathing.

The monks footsteps retreated, and Bruce knew he was heading back down the mountain, probably to grab a few pints and boxes of cigarettes, before passing out in the snow. He wouldn't be back by dawn. He probably wouldn't be back for a while.

Bruce ignored his thoughts, concentrating. The practice of stilling his mind was still difficult, no matter how hard he tried or how long he meditated for. His mind was just so... loud.

But he had to try. Again.

He breathed, focusing on each new breath, each sear of his lungs in the frigid air. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In-

Bruce blinked slowly, rubbing his head. He must have fallen asleep at some point, and not noticed.

More of his surroundings blinked into view, and Bruce shot up, spinning around wildly.

"This... is not a pile of snow." He muttered. No. Sadly enough, he recognized where he was.

Wayne Manor. The library, in Wayne Manor, to be specific.

"No no, no no, what- what happened?" Bruce growled, tugging at his hair. "Why am I back here? Was it all a dream?" Panic gripped him. It couldn't be a dream. Everything he had trained for, all he had done, it couldn't be a dream.

Unless that meant-

Shouts came from outside the door and Bruce spun wildly, rushing for the large mahogany. He wrenched it open, cries of "Mum! Dad!" already on his lips, only to almost collide with a blond haired girl, shrieking with laughter as she raced past.

Bruce blinked. That was... not what he had expected. "I better be dreaming." he grumbled, and made to close the door. But... something held him back. Tugged him to follow her. To go on.

Footsteps thundered from the stairs and Bruce turned just in time to watch two black haired boys chasing after her, shoving the other. But not with malice, Bruce realized as he slowly trailed after them, cautious, using every tool he had not to be seen. But rather with glee.

They weren't roughhousing to hurt, they were doing just that. Roughhousing. For fun.

He followed the sounds of chatter to the kitchen, barely managing to dodge behind the corner as the door was flung open, and a new, taller, black haired boy streamed past, two wafting plates held aloft on his arms, chattering animatedly with a red haired girl in a wheelchair that followed, another plate of food on her lap.

"I'm telling ya Cass, he's into him." The blond girl from before followed, talking to a black haired girl, a Gotham draw distinctive in her tone.

The other girl, Cass, rolled her eyes, yet another dish balanced on her head, as the blond girl carried napkins.

"Stuck on napkin duty again Steph?" One of the black haired boys from earlier teased, breezing past with a cheeky grin, another two plates on his arm.

"Shut it Tim." The blond, Steph, snapped, swatting at him. The anger was light hearted though, and the boy, Tim, laughed.

"It was one time." She muttered, and Cass lifted a hand to her mouth to cover her grin.

"One time I shall never forget Miss Brown." Announced a voice and Bruce recoiled.

Alfred Pennyworth appeared in the doorway to the dining room, extending a hand to take Cass's plate. "Neither shall my fine China, nor my nice rug."

Steph's cheeks reddened, her scowl deepening. "Sorry Alf." She mumbled. The butler patted her shoulder mildly, looking faintly amused.

"It is of no concern now my dear." He soothed, gesturing them into the room. "Now come, or all Master Jason and my fine dishes will get cold."

The girls obediently trotted into the dining room, resuming their casual chatter. Bruce watched, hidden in the shadows of the storage closet, waiting as his butler busied himself straightening a few things in the hall.

He was waiting for someone, that much was clear, although who, Bruce couldn't for the life of him figure out. It was clear he had a full house, and a much fuller life with all these strange people, so who would possibly be worth waiting on?

The answer came down the stairs, a tall, rather broad man, with dark black hair. Bruce couldn't see his face, but he walked with the surety of a man who had been to hell and back, and walked out alive.

"B!" Someone screamed from inside the room as the man clapped Alfred affectionately on the shoulder. "B- B help they're trying to kill me-!"

A new kid, a dark skinned, also black haired boy appeared, hands scrambling for purchase on the unknown man, ducking behind him. A child, a literal child, emerged, a scowl fixed on his lips.

"It is a smoothie Thomas." He announced blithely. "It is for your health."

The boy, Thomas?, remained cowered. "Please don't let him get me!" He squeaked. The man chuckled, reaching back to ruffle his hair.

"Duke, baby, it is good for you."

Thomas, Duke, scowled, batting his hand away. "I knew I'd find no allies here!" He declared with flourish. The man chuckled as a new face appeared.

"B, Duke, stop. We're all waiting, come on Dad." The man, Dad, laughed again, slinging an arm around Duke and the younger boy.

"Alright, alright chum, we're coming." he herded what was undoubtedly his family into the dining room, greeted with uproars and cheers.

"B's here!" A deep voice called.

"Finally we can eat!" groaned a girls voice Bruce identified as the girl from earlier, Steph.

The unknown man laughed again, releasing his sons, but faltered a step, glancing back.

Back at Bruce.

Bruce's breath caught in his throat. Because- because looking at him-

It was his father. No- his mother. No- both. It- it was him. Him, older, stronger, wiser. And- and with a family.

Older him frowned, scratching the back of his neck, brows furrowed.

"Dad come on." Someone called. Bruce shook his head, and headed inside.

The snow, the cold, the frigid wind slammed into Bruce and in seconds he was chattering.

"So- fucking- cold." He muttered, body shaking as he shook free of the snow, stumbling away and down the mountain.

"H-hey- you- you little shit-" The monk was drunk, as expected, and Bruce dodged his flailing arms with ease.

"Find someone else to be your punching bag. Or better yet, find no one at all." Bruce called, landing a heavy hit against the back of the mans neck, sending him sacking to the floor.

He shook his head, making his way to the airport. His training was as good as it was going to get. He needed to get home. And working on his family.

Bruce grinned, a light skip in his step, as he headed for Gotham.

ummmm okay this took forever to write and im so sorry abt that- its also not really what you asked for- he doesnt actually get to talk to any of them, but i wanted an invisible bruce(even if he wasnt sneaking no one would have seen him-traveling through time using his soul/mind and all that but wtv) to see how life is, how the manor, this cold desolate, empty echoing place turns into such a hub of joy and laughter and life, brimming with it, and he's the cause...

anyway hope you liked, sorry its late, and omg thanks for the idea!

[billiessillywife]

pov: you slowly start to get back to that sad phase and billie notices and helps you

warnings: talk abt suicidal thoughts and js really sad but also really cute fluff at the end

youre in the embrace of your warm and soft blankets getting cozy , in the comfort of you and your girlfriend’s house. girlfriend woah that sounds so odd coming from your mouth . billie’s been the perfect partner she’s been there for you always providing you with the affection you craved, you both helped each other in more ways than one. you 2 never talked about this but in each others heart you knew that this was so right so perfect it filled your heart and even overflowed it.

yet youre here in ur bed and ur doing it again. the constant over thinking , a battle , between ur own voice and thoughts and the one of ur enemy

“ the other voice the evil one”

what if billie decided i’m not good enough

i’m getting ugly anyways she’ll leave me

fuck this i’m just gonna end it

what if

what if

what if?

this is the reality of your own head its what you go through . a predisposed action in a way , it’s in ur nature . but ur sick of it it’s getting too much and ur tired so tired , usually billie helps you with navigating through it always reassuring you trying to keep u busy so that u dont fall back . unfortunately ur sweet baby is at the studio working on some stuff for her upcoming album . you’re so proud of her she’s your star an angel in every single way . billie is your destiny and forevermore . but you can’t help and wonder what if ur not what she wants . billie goes on her day meeting multiple people ones who are 100% really attractive maybe she falls for another girl? boy? maybe she starts to realize ur way too fucked up.

you’ve always been in question of ur own identity ur sexuality ur self image . growing up with certain norms you follow and that’s it . no in between the lines . but you fell right through when u realized that u liked girls the same way you thought you liked guys. the butterflies , the warmth , the softness , gentle touch so pure. one hell of a journey yet u fought it , went through the guilt , the thoughts really overwhelming you in so many ways through that u lost ur family some friends too bur ur here . and you met billie.

you run a hand through ur silky soft brown hair and take a deep breath

alr i got this , i’m okay

you go about ur way to the bathroom to wash ur face and get the mood right , billie is supposed to be coming in a few with some sushi and a movie night is scheduled for you two so u better get ur shit straight right?

you stare at ur reflection from the big mirror in ur lavish bathroom. and there it is , what you truly hated and the thoughts run around again

you over analyze each and every little detail of ur face and body tears start to form and u lean ur body on the counter to js take another breath

yr eyes look so tired billie is gonna notice

ur hair is greasy and need washing

u look like u gained a few pounds

stop eating and go to the gym

do something productive

don’t mope around

just stop.

tears left and it’s never ending

billie’s keys unlock the door and u hear her footsteps you can hear sharks adorable noise greeting his mama .

ur breathing grows heavier and faster and it all comes to you panic panic.

hey babyyy billie enters the house with a enthusiastic tone and the take out ready

bil im coming down give me a sec .

u mutter trying not to break ur voice and give billie a idea she can’t know.

you can’t stand you can’t speak and everything is so blurry u can barley see billie going into ur master bedroom and the bathroom door wide open so she sees u and panic struck her eyes.

layla layla omg baby whats wrong? .

billie falls down to the floor with you she’s seen this before but she genuinely thought u were getting better but u masked it so well.

layla honey breath with me tell me what’s wrong can i hold ur hand pls .

billie’s soft voice cascades through the room and ur ears u feel them pop and u can feel ur surrounding you look up at billie and you see her icy blue ocean eyes meeting ur brown ones.

you start to pick up on ur breath no words have been spoken till now billie understands that u won’t speak until ur stable again . you slowly pick ur trembling hands and lace them with billie’s .

bbbillie im okay i just i thought a lot and this made me liiike well this i’m sorrry pls don’t leave me pls i love you baby.

ur voice breaks again after that sentence . truth is your mind was a dangerous place a whole war zone there and u were frightened .

you’ve always dealt with the thoughts of hurting urself yet u never had the courage to go abt it . actually do it but it’s been a lingering thought for so long and like said before u were so tired.

you basically went by ur day normally u ate , u showered u went out with billie and even friends . but once ur mind was alone it ran and ran all the possibilities and thoughts come rushing in a hindered miles per hour. you went back to ur old habits as well eating to fill the void but when u see ur self in the mirror it’s like looking right back at the devil an awful sight. and the cycle begins again and again

billie dosen’t speak another word but she holds you so tight like never before . u can smell her vanilla scent through her shirt and it’s comforting its home where you belong . she keeps you in her arms all night with the food outside getting cold . but she’s with you and she’s got you she whispers i love you and soft whispers to you .

as long as you got her nothings gonna happens

youre okay now.