#5 tings i like about myself
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alicre · 4 months ago
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when you get this, you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. then, send this ask to 10 of your followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool) < 3 <3
Ok!
I like my ears, my sense of style, my taste in friends, my art and my overall personality :3
Thank you whoever send me this 🫶
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amirasainz · 3 months ago
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Hi literally get so excited when you update! Can you write one where charles x alexandra x reader where charles and alex are away for an event and forget that it's the reader birthday ans only remember when someone tells them birthday it and they try and make it up to her.
Hi loves. I hope you enjoy this little piece. Let me know what you think. Comments are always apreciated!I'm sorry,but the Sydney Sweeny picture was perfect, so I had to include it😉
Also, question (and please answer me that in the comments), does anyone read what I write before the story? Like the little message here? I'm just curious❤️
Enjoy reading and send me requests!!❤️
-XoXo
The Birthday disaster
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You couldn’t believe it. They weren’t here. They didn’t call, text, or even send you a freaking letter. Your own boyfriend and girlfriend forgot your birthday. And not just any birthday, it was your 21 birthday. Instead of celebrating with Alex, Charles, and all of your friends in a vibrant club, you were sitting on the balcony of your apartment. Despite the cold wind hitting your bare skin mercilessly, thanks to the cute short dress you wore today, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk back inside.
Of course, your friends tried to get you to come out with them to celebrate your birthday properly. But it just hurt too much, and to be honest, your mind was too tired and sad for any kind of festivity.
When Charles and Alex first informed you about the event hosted by one of Alex’s friends, they eagerly asked you to join them. Unfortunately, your job didn’t allow you to tag along, which both of them understood. However, they promised you that they would return today at around 5 o’clock. To be honest, you thought they had something special planned for your birthday. But last night, at around 11 pm, you received a text from Alex, informing you that they would be staying longer in Venice, where the event was held.
At first, you thought this was some kind of joke. Maybe they wanted you to think that they weren’t able to celebrate with you, only to surprise you with a birthday party. But sadly, when you woke up this morning, nothing happened. Throughout the day, there was complete silence between you and them.
Your group of friends, who had been with you a few hours ago to at least celebrate your birthday a little bit, tried to convince you to go out and party with them. Before you could agree, you got a notification from Instagram. You were tagged quite often in a post showing Alex and Charles at the event. They looked so happy and carefree, making you feel even more numb.
Despite their best efforts, your friends left after half an hour, after you reassured them with phrases like “Yes, I will take care of myself,” “Yes, I will call you if I need anything,” and “No, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m completely fine.” They knew you were anything but fine; however, they also knew that you needed to be alone right now.
So here you are, sitting alone in the cold with your only companions being the vodka bottle you brought with you and the relentless wind hitting your skin. “Happy fucking 21st birthday to me, I guess,” you muttered to yourself, staring out at the sea.
“Oh my god, Lisa. You truly outdid yourself,” complimented Alex, her friend. And it was true. The event was filled with beautiful flowers and lights, giving the room a fairy-like appearance. The soft glow of the lights reflected off the petals, creating a magical ambiance that made everyone feel like they had stepped into an enchanted garden. Charles, who stood next to his girlfriend, only brought her closer to him and said, “Yeah, I have to agree. I’m 100% sure YN would have loved it.” “You are so right, love. I wish she was here with us,” agreed Alex, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.
“Wait, I’m confused. So there is nothing wrong between you guys and YN?” asked Lisa, her brow furrowed in confusion. Alex and Charles shared a look with each other, both of them equally puzzled. “No, why would there be anything wrong with us?” Alex replied, her tone defensive. “Oh, I just thought you had a fight and this is the reason why you are here and not with YN today. But I must have been wrong…” Linda’s voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She shared a look with her partner Mary, both of them realizing the gravity of the situation.
“Wait, stop. Pause. Why would we be with YN tonight? You invited us to your event and we are here. I don’t get what’s going on right now,” said Alex, her frustration mounting. It felt like Mary and Lisa knew something she and Charles didn’t. Mary, who was now also becoming more annoyed with how the two of them acted before them, didn’t take any nonsense from Alex.
Without hesitation, she looked straight into Alex’s eyes and told her with an ice-cold voice, “Well, we weren’t expecting you to show up today because we thought that you would be busy celebrating YN’s 21 birthday today. But from the looks of it, it seems like you forgot your own girlfriend’s birthday. So don’t talk to us with that rude tone of yours. At least we remember each other’s birthdays.” With that, Mary took Lisa by the hand and left, leaving Alex and Charles standing there in stunned silence.
Alex and Charles were left behind, both staring at the space where the couple used to be a few seconds ago. Both of them felt a wave of guilt and shame wash over them. How could they forget their own girlfriend’s birthday? Turning on their phones, they saw the flood of messages they had received from not only their fans but also their friends, YN’s friends, and their families. Each message was a painful reminder of their oversight.
“We messed up so badly,” muttered Charles, looking at Alex with a pained expression. The woman could only nod, still speechless. Charles took her arm and gently but firmly led her out of the room. “We have to go to her. ASAP,” Alex told Charles, who was already a step ahead of her and had their jackets in hand. With that, the couple left the event, both feeling a deep sense of remorse. How could they forget their girl’s birthday?
As they hurried to their car, Alex’s mind raced with thoughts of how to make it up to YN. She knew it would take more than just an apology to mend the hurt they had caused. Charles, too, was lost in his thoughts, thinking of ways to show YN how much she meant to them. They both knew that they had a lot of making up to do, but they were determined to do whatever it took to make things right.
At around 1 am, the couple finally arrived home. The ride back had been silent, the air in the car feeling oppressively thick, making it hard to breathe. They parked their car in the garage and, without hesitation, jumped out of the vehicle, racing towards the elevator. The few minutes it took to reach their front door felt like an eternity, each second stretching painfully.
When they entered the apartment, everything was shrouded in darkness. A figure sat on the balcony, barely visible in the dim light. Charles immediately sat next to YN, while Alex kneeled in front of her. YN didn’t even look at them before taking a gulp from the nearly empty bottle of vodka. “Hey love, I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” whispered Charles, gently trying to take the bottle away from the now 21-year-old girl.
YN shook her head, her voice trembling as she reminded them, “No. NO, you do not get to tell me what I can and cannot do. Not after you forgot about me.” “Baby, we didn’t forget about you,” Alex tried, her eyes already filling with tears. YN only laughed, her own tears streaming down her face. “No, Alexandra. You do not get to tell me that after you forgot my birthday, and you certainly don’t get to cry.” “Ok, let’s all calm down,” Charles attempted again, his voice soothing but firm.
“No Charles! I don’t want to calm down. You both forgot about me. You two promised me that something like this would never happen to us. You promised me that you would always love me. You promised me that the age gap didn’t bother you when we started dating when I was 19. But look at us. You already broke one of your promises. How can I be sure that you won’t break another one?” With that, YN broke down in tears. Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs, her head held in her hands.
Charles and Alex immediately moved to comfort her. “YN, breath. We are so freaking sorry. I guarantee you, we didn’t mean for something like this to happen. We were all so busy with our jobs and social lives that we didn’t mean to forget something so important,” Charles began, his voice filled with regret.
Alex took YN’s head into her hands, gently wiping away her tears. “We love you more than anything in this world. You are our air and our heart. And we will apologize for the rest of our lives if we have to,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. YN only whispered, “I love you guys too.” Alex didn't hesitate before kissing her girlfriend. after a moment the they pulled apart.
Charles turned her face towards him, speaking softly, “And we didn’t lie when we told you the age gap didn’t bother us. And we certainly didn’t lie when we promised you that we would always love you, ok?” After YN nodded, Letting Charles also kiss her. This kiss was filled with as much love as Alex, just a bit more urgently but still gentle. After their kiss, the three of them cuddled close to each other, finding solace in their shared warmth.
It would take some time before everything was alright between the three of them again. But for now, sitting together and watching the city lights flicker in the distance was the perfect way to start healing.
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callsigns-haze · 2 months ago
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His Shadow: Chp 6
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masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5
Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...
Pairing: Azriel x reader
This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences.
The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of their apartment, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The soft light highlighted the simple, yet cozy space they had made their own—a sanctuary that was their little world, hidden from the eyes of everyone else. Knox was still asleep in his crib, his tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, blissfully unaware of the tension building between his parents.
YN stood near the window, her back turned to Azriel, arms crossed over her chest. Her posture was stiff, her shoulders tense as she stared out at the city, her reflection barely visible in the glass. Azriel could feel the frustration radiating off her in waves, and he knew that this conversation was inevitable. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.
He had taken the week off, needing to be with his family, needing to be with her. After overhearing Cassian and Mor talk about their little spying expedition on YN, he had made the decision quickly, without hesitation. But now, as he watched YN’s back, he wondered if he had acted too impulsively.
“Why did you do it, Azriel?” YN’s voice broke the silence, cutting through the stillness of the morning. It was calm, but there was an edge to it—one that Azriel recognized all too well. She was holding back, trying to keep her emotions in check, but he knew she was upset. “Why did you take the week off?”
Azriel let out a slow breath, his wings rustling slightly as he stepped closer to her. “I wanted to be here with you and Knox,” he answered, keeping his voice steady. “After everything that’s happened, I thought you could use the support. I wanted to make sure you both were safe.”
She turned around to face him, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else—something that looked a lot like hurt. “Safe?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “Azriel, we’re not in immediate danger. You’re acting like I can’t take care of myself and our son without you hovering over us.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” Azriel replied quickly, though he knew that wasn’t entirely true. He was protective—maybe too protective, especially now that their lives were more complicated than ever. He crossed the distance between them, his hands reaching out to take hers, but she stepped back, putting more space between them.
“Isn’t it?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “You’re here because you don’t trust me to handle things on my own. You’re here because you think you need to shield us from everything—even from your own family. But Azriel, I can’t live like this. We can’t live like this, constantly looking over our shoulders, constantly hiding.”
Her words hit him hard, and he knew she was right. But it didn’t change the fact that he felt this deep, unrelenting need to protect her, to protect Knox, to be there every moment in case something went wrong. The thought of losing them—of anything happening to them—was more than he could bear.
“YN, I’m not trying to smother you,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with the desperation he felt. “I just… I need to be sure. After what happened yesterday, after knowing they were watching you—I can’t just leave you both alone and hope everything will be fine.”
Her eyes softened slightly at his words, the anger ebbing away, replaced by a sadness that made Azriel’s heart ache. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as if trying to gather her thoughts before she spoke again.
“Azriel,” she said more gently, “I understand why you feel the way you do. I do. But this… this isn’t sustainable. We can’t keep living in fear, can’t keep reacting to what might happen. We need to trust each other, trust that we can handle things—even when you’re not here.”
Azriel’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He knew she was right, but it was so hard to let go of that instinct, the one that told him he needed to be there every moment to protect them. He had been living on the edge for so long, constantly aware of the dangers lurking in the shadows, that he didn’t know how to step back and just… breathe.
“I do trust you,” he said finally, his voice rough with emotion. “I trust you more than anyone, YN. But I’ve spent centuries living in a world where letting your guard down, even for a moment, can cost you everything. I’m sorry if I’m overbearing—I just can’t lose you. I can’t lose our son.”
YN’s expression softened further, the tension in her posture easing slightly as she stepped closer to him. She reached out, her hand resting against his chest, right over his heart. “You won’t lose us,” she said firmly, looking up at him with a gaze full of determination. “But you have to let us live, Azriel. We can’t keep hiding in the shadows like this. I need you to believe that we can handle this—together.”
Azriel closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as he absorbed her words. She was right, of course. YN had always been strong, far stronger than he sometimes gave her credit for. And Knox—he was still so small, but Azriel knew his son would grow up to be just as strong. They didn’t need him to shield them from the world; they needed him to stand beside them, to be their partner, not their protector.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, opening his eyes to meet hers. “I’ll try to do better. I promise.”
She smiled at him then, a small but genuine smile that made the tightness in his chest ease just a little. “That’s all I ask,” she said softly, her hand moving up to cup his cheek. “We’re in this together, Azriel. Always.”
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, the simple act grounding him, reminding him of what truly mattered. “Always,” he echoed, his voice filled with a quiet resolve.
They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s presence, the tension between them slowly dissipating. Outside, the sun continued to rise, bathing the room in warmth and light, as if to remind them that there was still hope, still a future to be had, as long as they faced it together.
In the crib beside them, Knox let out a small whimper, his tiny wings fluttering as he stirred from his sleep. YN pulled back from Azriel with a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling with affection as she turned to their son. “Looks like someone’s awake,” she murmured, moving over to the crib to pick Knox up.
Azriel watched her, his heart swelling with love as she cradled their son in her arms. Knox blinked up at her, his small mouth forming a perfect little ‘O’ as he looked between his parents. Azriel stepped closer, wrapping an arm around YN’s waist as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Knox’s head.
“We’ll be okay,” YN said quietly, more to herself than to him, as she rocked Knox gently in her arms. But Azriel heard the conviction in her voice, the belief that they would find a way through this—together. And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe it too.
---
River House was alive with activity as the Inner Circle gathered in the spacious sitting room. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting warm pools of light across the room’s plush furniture. Cassian was sprawled in one of the armchairs, his wings half-draped over the sides, while Rhys sat opposite him, leaning casually against the backrest of a couch. Mor and Feyre were nearby, quietly sipping their tea, and Amren was perched on the window sill, her sharp eyes watching everyone with mild disinterest.
As usual, the meeting started casually, with updates on Velaris, news from the courts, and the usual banter. But something was different this morning, an undercurrent of curiosity running through the group. Azriel’s absence was becoming more noticeable, especially given his sudden declaration of taking a week off—a rare occurrence.
"So, does anyone else find it weird that Azriel's taking a week off?" Cassian said, breaking the silence. He shifted in his seat, his brow furrowed with a mix of concern and confusion. “I can’t remember the last time that happened. Not without a reason.”
Rhys’s violet eyes flickered with amusement, but there was a hint of curiosity as well. "It’s not like him," he admitted, his voice smooth. "Azriel rarely takes time for himself. He’s always working, always looking for the next mission or lead. But a whole week off? That’s new."
Mor nodded in agreement, her lips quirking in a small smile. “Maybe he finally realized he needs a break,” she said with a light laugh. “Even shadowsingers need to recharge once in a while.”
Feyre glanced at Rhys, her brow arched in thought. "He didn't seem like anything was wrong the last time I saw him. Do you think something’s going on that he’s not telling us?"
Cassian sat up straighter, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You know how secretive he can be. But a whole week off? Something doesn’t add up.”
"Maybe he met someone," Mor suggested, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “Maybe there’s a secret lover involved, and he’s just been keeping it from us.”
At that, Cassian snorted, his wings shifting behind him as he chuckled. "Azriel? Keeping a secret lover from us? That sounds about right, actually. He’s good at hiding things.”
Rhys tilted his head, a slight frown creasing his brow. “He’s been acting strange lately. Not just with the time off, but before that too. More secretive than usual. And those late-night disappearances…”
Feyre leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Do you think he’s hiding something serious?”
Rhys let out a thoughtful hum, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest of the couch. “Could be. Azriel’s not one to share things unless it’s absolutely necessary. If something’s bothering him, he’ll bury it deep.”
Mor crossed her arms, glancing between Rhys and Cassian. “Do you think it has to do with the place we went to in the Hewn City? The woman—YN—she seemed close to him. Could it be related?”
Rhys’s eyes darkened for a moment, as if recalling the encounter at the pleasure house. “Possibly. He did seem more… comfortable there than usual. And she did say something about going back after maternity leave. Perhaps Azriel’s more involved in her life than we thought.”
Cassian shifted, his expression turning more serious. "You think he's involved with her?"
"It’s possible," Rhys said slowly. "But Azriel’s careful. If he’s keeping something from us, it’s for a reason."
Amren, who had been silently observing the conversation, finally spoke, her voice dry and laced with boredom. “Whatever it is, he’ll tell you when he’s ready. No point in speculating about his private life.”
Mor glanced at Amren, then back at the others. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on things. If he’s tangled up in something, we should know. Especially if it affects us or the missions we’re planning.”
Rhys gave a slow nod, his gaze flicking toward the window as if he were already piecing things together in his mind. “Agreed. But we give him space. Azriel’s earned that much.”
Cassian leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. “Yeah, but if he disappears again, I’m dragging him back here myself.”
The group shared a small laugh, but the lingering tension remained. Azriel’s absence weighed on them more than they were willing to admit, and the mystery of his sudden break gnawed at their collective curiosity.
As the conversation lulled, Rhys’s gaze turned distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. He could sense there was more to this story than what met the eye. Something was going on with Azriel—something deeper than just taking time off.
But for now, they would wait. And watch.
---
YN walked into the pleasure home, the familiar scent of incense and low hum of conversation filling the air. She had grown accustomed to the atmosphere over the years—the darkened rooms, the hushed voices, the hidden glances exchanged between patrons and the workers. Tonight, though, something felt different. Her nerves were on edge, her mind still unsettled by the feeling that she was being watched the other day at the market.
As she adjusted her black silk dress, ensuring it clung to her in all the right places, she pushed those thoughts aside. She had work to do, and there was no room for distractions. She glanced around the room, scanning the faces of the patrons lounging in their seats, drinks in hand and their eyes on the stage where the night's entertainment had just begun.
And then she saw them.
At one of the booths near the back, sitting comfortably as if they belonged, were Rhysand and Cassian. But this time, they weren’t alone. Their partners, Nesta and Feyre, were with them. The sight of the group made YN pause for a split second, her breath catching in her throat as recognition hit her. It was them—she had felt their presence before. They were the ones who had been following her at the market just the day before.
She played it cool, forcing a neutral expression onto her face as she straightened her posture. Whatever they were doing here, she wasn’t going to let them know that she had figured it out. She was already too involved in the tangled mess of Azriel’s secrets, and the last thing she needed was to attract more attention from his friends. Especially Feyre and Nesta. If they even had the faintest idea about her connection to Azriel, things could go downhill fast.
With a calm smile plastered on her face, she made her way toward their table. Her heart raced beneath her composed exterior, but she kept her movements steady, her steps measured and graceful as she approached the group.
"Good evening," YN greeted them, her voice smooth and professional as she came to a stop by their table. "What can I get for you tonight?"
Rhysand, ever the picture of charm and elegance, offered her a polite smile. His violet eyes met hers briefly, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe suspicion. Cassian leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually over Nesta’s shoulders, while Feyre, sitting next to Rhys, regarded YN with an air of quiet observation.
“We’ll start with a round of drinks,” Rhys said, his tone casual, but YN could feel the weight of his gaze on her, as if he were sizing her up. “Something strong.”
YN nodded, jotting down the order even though she didn’t need to. She had memorized the menu long ago. “I’ll be right back with that.”
She turned on her heel and walked away, her mind racing as she made her way to the bar. It was no coincidence that they were here again, especially after what happened at the market. Rhys and Cassian had come to the pleasure home with Azriel once before, and now this was their third visit in such a short time. It couldn’t be a casual night out—it had to be something more.
Harvey, her bartender friend, raised an eyebrow as she approached. "You okay?" he asked quietly, noticing the tension in her shoulders.
YN forced a smile, shaking her head slightly. "Fine. Just...unexpected company," she muttered as she handed him the drink order. Her mind was spinning with questions, but she knew better than to discuss anything in the open.
As Harvey prepared the drinks, YN leaned against the bar, trying to steady herself. She had to stay calm, keep up the act. If Rhysand and the others were here for information, she couldn’t afford to give anything away. Not about herself, not about Azriel. Not about Knox. They still had no idea about her and Azriel, and she intended to keep it that way.
After a few minutes, Harvey slid the tray of drinks toward her, and YN lifted it carefully, balancing it in her hands as she returned to the table. She felt their eyes on her as she approached, but she kept her expression neutral, her smile practiced and professional.
"Here you go," she said, setting the drinks down in front of them. She noticed how Feyre’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to place her.
"Thanks," Cassian said, his voice gruff but polite. Nesta glanced up at YN briefly before turning her attention back to her drink, uninterested in the small talk.
As YN set the last glass down in front of Rhys, she caught his gaze again. His expression was calm, unreadable, but she could sense the questions lurking beneath the surface. She had been in enough rooms with men like him to know when someone was trying to figure out a puzzle—and tonight, she was the puzzle.
Before anyone could say anything further, YN gave them a small nod and turned to leave, her pulse quickening as she walked away. She had to be careful now. Whatever game they were playing, she was already too deep in it. And with Azriel out on his week off, the last thing she needed was for his inner circle to find out about Knox—or their relationship.
As she walked back toward the bar, she allowed herself a moment to breathe. They were watching her, but she had survived worse. She just had to keep her head down, play her part, and hope that they wouldn’t dig too deep.
But the nagging thought wouldn’t leave her: Why were they here again? And what, exactly, were they hoping to find out?
YN stepped through the door of their small apartment, her body aching from the weight of the day. Exhaustion clung to her like a second skin, and her mind raced with endless thoughts—who had been spying on her, why the Inner Circle kept showing up, and what it all meant for her and Azriel. She had kept her cool at the pleasure house, but the constant pressure of pretending everything was normal while being watched was wearing her down.
The familiar warmth of home wrapped around her as she shut the door quietly behind her, but the tension in her body refused to ease. She dropped her bag on the floor, her gaze flicking to the couch where Azriel sat, barefoot and bare-chested, with only a pair of loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He was leaning back, a book resting in his hands, though the moment she entered, his golden-brown eyes were on her, sensing her frustration without needing to ask.
“Rough night?” Azriel asked softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. He closed the book and set it aside, his attention fully on her.
YN gave a small nod, too tired to speak. The weight of everything pressed down on her, making her feel like she could collapse right there in the doorway. Her shoulders slumped, and Azriel immediately got up, moving toward her with a fluid grace that belied the exhaustion she knew he carried too.
He reached for her gently, his hands sliding under her shirt, lifting it over her head in one smooth motion. The cool air hit her skin, but it wasn’t the chill that made her shiver. It was the way Azriel’s hands worked with such care, as though she were made of something fragile, even though he knew better than anyone that she wasn’t.
When he unclasped her bra and slid it off her shoulders, YN let out a long, shaky breath. Azriel’s presence was grounding, his hands firm yet tender as he guided her to the couch. He sat down first, pulling her with him until she was lying against his chest, her legs draped over his as she settled into his warmth. The steady rise and fall of his breathing was the only sound in the room for a moment, and YN could feel some of the tension in her body begin to melt away.
But she still felt overwhelmed—by the spying, by the uncertainty, by the weight of the past few days.
Azriel knew. He always did. His calloused hands moved to the scars on her back, the ridged lines that traced where her wings had been brutally clipped when she was only nine years old. It had been a trauma that never left her, not in all the years since. Even though she had healed, those scars still carried memories she couldn’t shake. And Azriel knew how much they haunted her.
His fingers brushed lightly over the scars, tracing the familiar pattern as he began to massage the tense muscles beneath. The pressure was just enough to ease the knots that had formed in her back, and YN couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped her lips. He always knew how to take the pain away—both the physical and the emotional.
"Talk to me," Azriel murmured, his voice a quiet invitation. "What happened?"
YN closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his body and the soothing motions of his hands carry her for a moment. “I think they’re watching me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I recognized Rhys and Cassian at the pleasure house tonight, and... they’ve been following me. I know it.”
Azriel’s hands paused briefly before continuing their gentle rhythm. He didn’t ask who “they” were—he didn’t need to. He had already suspected the Inner Circle’s involvement, though hearing it confirmed made his chest tighten.
“I’ll take care of it,” he promised quietly, his voice steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to worry about them.”
But that wasn’t the only thing gnawing at YN. There was more—the weight of being watched, the fear that their secret might be exposed. The fear that her past, her clipped wings, her life at the pleasure house, and everything she had built with Azriel and Knox would come crashing down.
“They don’t know about us, about Knox,” YN continued, her voice trembling slightly as she curled in closer to Azriel. “But if they keep following me... I’m scared they’ll find out.”
Azriel’s arms tightened around her, pulling her flush against his chest. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, a silent reassurance. “They won’t,” he murmured, his breath warm against her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you or Knox. You’re both safe.”
YN buried her face against his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming the storm inside her. She believed him—she always did. Azriel had been her anchor, her protector, the one person who had stood by her when no one else would. But even with his promises, the weight of everything still felt like too much.
His hands continued to work at the knots in her back, his fingers gentle yet firm, easing the tension from her muscles. YN let out a shaky breath, feeling her body slowly relax under his touch. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink deeper into the safety of Azriel’s arms, the familiar scent of him wrapping around her like a cocoon.
For a few moments, it was just them—their shared silence, the unspoken bond between them. Azriel’s hands never stopped moving, soothing the aches and pains that had built up inside her. His presence was her sanctuary, the one place she felt truly at peace.
And for now, that was enough.
Let me know if you'd wish to be tagged! Comments and reblogs are really appreciated!
There's three more chapters left and I think I might make a sequel but not with the mmc you think it is.... But the drama unfolds in the next chapter
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passengerprincessblog · 8 days ago
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“Breaking Point” ~pt 5 Lewis Hamilton x reader
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Summary: Tensions remain high between Y/N and Lewis as their unresolved arguments linger through the day. When Lewis learns about an upcoming event Y/N is attending, his attempts to join only spark more friction, highlighting their ongoing power struggles and miscommunication. Later, surrounded by her glam team and under the watchful eye of her controlling manager Jude—who clearly disapproves of Lewis—Y/N navigates the delicate balance between her career and her personal life. As Lewis tries to rekindle their connection with tender words and longing looks, Y/N finds herself torn between holding her ground and softening to the man who has her heart, even amidst the drama.
The blaring sound of my alarm jolts me awake, and I groggily fumble for my phone to turn it off. My head feels foggy, my thoughts scattered as I rub my eyes, squinting at the screen. 9:00 a.m.
“Shit,” I mumble, realizing I’ve slept through the other two alarms I’d set. I sit in bed for a moment, scrolling absentmindedly through Instagram, trying to shake off the grogginess. My feed is filled with photos of the past week —friends posting from parties, a few paparazzi shots of Lewis at some event I didn’t even know he attended.
After a minute, I toss my phone onto the bed and drag myself up, grabbing my robe and slipping it on as I pad toward the door. The long staircase feels like an eternity to descend, and I make my way down the hall toward the kitchen, the faint sound of movement catching my attention.
When I walk in, I see Lewis standing by the counter, sweaty and flushed, a water bottle in hand, his headphones in. His t-shirt clings to him, damp with sweat from a run, and his muscles are tense, glistening slightly. He looks up and sees me, jumping a bit before pulling out one of his AirPods.
“Hey, cutie,” he says casually, his voice light, like we didn’t argue half the night. He takes a step closer to me, but I instinctively step back, not ready to let him off the hook just yet.
“You’re sweaty,” I reply flatly, sidestepping him and walking toward the coffee machine.
I hear him sigh behind me as I grab a coffee pod and slide it into the machine. The tension in the room is palpable, the air thick with everything we haven’t said.
“Well… I went for a run,” he says plainly, his tone neutral but tinged with curiosity. I can feel his eyes on me, watching my every move as I press the button to start brewing my coffee.
“Y/N… you okay?” His voice softens, the concern evident, but it only irritates me more. He knows I’m not okay. He knows exactly what’s wrong.
“Hm? Yeah. I’m fine,” I lie, plastering a fake half-smile on my face before turning back to the machine. The hum of the coffee maker fills the silence between us, the tension stretching taut like a rubber band ready to snap.
“Y/N, stop being such a brat,” he says, his tone shifting to annoyance, his patience clearly wearing thin.
I scoff, spinning around to face him, my eyes narrowing. “Lewis… don’t even start with that. I’m actually still upset.” My voice is sharp, clipped, my irritation bubbling to the surface.
He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, his brows furrowing. “Okay. Fine. Be mad. I apologized.”
“Did you, though? Did you really?” I snap, my voice dripping with attitude.
His jaw tightens, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming as he looks down at me. “Yes, I did. Last night. I told you I was sorry.”
I cross my arms, leaning back against the counter, defiant. “Saying ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t mean much when you don’t actually understand what you’re apologizing for, Lewis.”
His nostrils flare slightly, and I can see the frustration building in his eyes. “I do understand,” he says, his voice low, controlled. “You think I don’t get it? You’re mad because I showed up, because I didn’t tell you I was coming, and because… what? You think I’m selfish for wanting to be with you?”
I roll my eyes, letting out a bitter laugh. “Oh, you think this is about you showing up unannounced? It’s not just that, Lewis. It’s everything. You make everything about you. You can’t stand when the attention isn’t on you, when it’s not all about your career, your races, your schedule.”
His eyes narrow, and he takes another step closer, his voice rising slightly. “That’s not fair. You know I’ve supported you in everything you’ve done.”
“Have you?” I counter, raising an eyebrow. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it when you’re constantly making me feel guilty for doing what I love. You don’t even know what my life is like, Lewis. You saw me yesterday, with my crew, in my element, and it’s like… you didn’t even recognize me. Because you’re never here. You don’t know this part of me.”
He opens his mouth to respond but falters, his expression shifting to something softer, almost vulnerable. “That’s not true. I do know you. I know how much you love what you do. I know how hard you work—”
“Then why does it always feel like you resent me for it?” I interrupt, my voice cracking slightly, betraying the anger that’s been festering inside me.
He runs a hand through his hair, his frustration evident as he lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t resent you, Y/N. I just… I miss you. All the time. And it’s hard, okay? It’s hard to feel like I’m losing you to something I can’t compete with.”
His words catch me off guard, and for a moment, I feel the fight leave me, replaced by a pang of guilt. But I push it down, unwilling to let him off the hook just yet.
“You’re not losing me, Lewis,” I say, my voice softer now but still firm. “But you make it so hard to feel like we’re equals in this relationship. I’ve spent so much time supporting you, being there for you, but when it’s my turn? When it’s my career? You can’t handle it.”
He looks at me, his expression pained, and for a moment, I see the weight of my words sinking in. But then his jaw tightens again, and he shakes his head. “That’s not true,” he says quietly.
“Isn’t it?” I press, stepping closer now, my voice rising slightly. “When was the last time you came to LA just to be with me? When was the last time you asked me about my work without making it about how much time it takes away from you?”
He doesn’t answer, his silence speaking louder than any words could.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair, the anger giving way to exhaustion. “Look, I get it. Your life is chaotic. Mine is too. But if we’re going to make this work, you have to stop making me feel like I’m failing you every time I prioritize myself.”
His shoulders slump slightly, and he looks down, his expression conflicted. “I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper.
I nod, my chest tightening as I turn back to my coffee, gripping the counter to steady myself. The tension in the room hasn’t disappeared, but there’s a shift, a crack in the wall we’ve both been building.
I grab my coffee and take a slow sip, bracing myself for the inevitable next round of tension. Lewis is still standing there, watching me, his expression somewhere between guarded and curious. The air between us feels heavy, thick with all the unresolved frustration and everything we haven’t said. I know I should just rip off the Band-Aid and tell him about tonight before it turns into another argument, but I can already feel the resistance building in my chest.
“Look… Lewis, I have an event tonight, so I won’t—” I start, but he cuts me off almost immediately.
“What event?” His tone is sharp, impatient, and it grates on me instantly.
I sigh, rolling my eyes slightly as I set my coffee down. “It’s for some acting thing,” I mumble, deliberately keeping it vague as I grab the creamer from the fridge and pour a splash into my mug.
“You… didn’t mention it,” he says, his voice low but pointed. I can feel his eyes on me, and when I glance up, he’s standing there with his arms crossed, his brows furrowed in that way that tells me he’s already irritated.
“Yeah… sorry,” I mumble, keeping my gaze on the swirling cream in my coffee. The tension between us is still palpable, and I can feel it clawing at my patience.
He takes a step closer, his voice firm. “I’ll come with.”
I pause mid-stir, my fingers tightening around the spoon as I process what he just said. “Lewis… I don’t have, like, a plus-one or something. My manager had to get me invited,” I say, my tone sharper than I intended.
“And?” he replies, the defensiveness creeping into his voice as he steps closer again. “I can easily get an invite.”
His words hang in the air, and I feel a twinge of irritation ripple through me. This is exactly what I was talking about. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand that this isn’t about him, that this night—this event—has nothing to do with his connections or his status or his ability to show up anywhere and instantly be the center of attention.
“You’re doing it again…” I mutter under my breath, my voice laced with annoyance as I grab my coffee and brush past him, leaving the kitchen.
“Doing what?” he calls after me, his tone rising with frustration as he follows me down the hall. “What am I doing, Y/N?”
I spin around to face him, my patience finally snapping. “Making it about you, Lewis! You always make it about you.”
He looks genuinely taken aback for a moment, his brow furrowing deeper as he stares at me. “That’s not fair,” he says, his voice lower now, almost defensive. “I just want to be there for you.”
“No, you don’t,” I reply sharply, my voice shaking slightly. “You want to show up and make a statement. You want people to see us together so they can say, ‘Wow, Lewis is such a great boyfriend for supporting her.’ But it’s not about me, Lewis. It’s about you. It’s always about you.”
His jaw tightens, and I can see the hurt flash across his face before he quickly masks it. “That’s not true,” he says, his tone firm. “I came to LA to support you. I’ve been trying to show you that I care.”
“Yeah? By showing up uninvited to my set? By crashing an event I didn’t even invite you to?” I counter, my voice rising. “Do you even hear yourself, Lewis? You’re not supporting me; you’re taking over.”
He takes a step back, his hands on his hips, and for a moment, he looks like he’s searching for the right words. “I just want to be with you,” he finally says, his voice softer, tinged with frustration. “I don’t know what else to do.”
I shake my head, letting out a bitter laugh. “You could start by asking me what I need instead of deciding for me.”
He stares at me, his expression hard, and I can tell he’s biting back a retort. “Fine,” he says after a moment, his tone clipped. “What do you need, Y/N?”
I let out a heavy sigh, suddenly feeling drained, the fight leaving me as quickly as it came. “I need you to trust me,” I say quietly. “I need you to stop thinking that every time I focus on myself, it means I’m pulling away from you.”
His shoulders drop slightly, and I can see the tension in his jaw easing, but his eyes are still stormy, conflicted. “I do trust you,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I just… I don’t want to feel like I’m losing you.”
“You’re not losing me,” I reply, my voice gentler now, though there’s still an edge to it. “But if you keep pushing like this, you might.”
The words hang between us, heavy and unspoken, and I can see the weight of them sinking in as he looks at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I think he might say something—an apology, a reassurance, anything—but instead, he just nods slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor.
“I’ll back off,” he says quietly, his tone resigned. “Go to your event. Do your thing. I’ll be here when you get back.”
I nod, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the lump in my throat at bay. “Okay,” I say softly, turning and walking away before the conversation can spiral any further.
As I head upstairs to get ready, I can feel his presence lingering in the back of my mind, the unresolved tension still sitting heavy in my chest. I don’t know if we’ve made progress or just widened the gap between us, but for now, it feels like all we can do is keep moving forward, one step at a time.
Later that evening, I’m seated in my vanity chair, surrounded by the buzzing energy of my glam team. Layla, my hairstylist, tugs at my hair with the curling iron while James, my makeup artist, perfects the last details on my face. Clara, my stylist, is laying out the final accessories to go with the dress hanging on the rack nearby. The banter flows easily between us, and I can’t help but laugh at one of Layla’s jokes about how I somehow look good even in pajamas. Over the past year, we’ve gotten close enough that I actually consider them friends, not just people I work with.
In the corner of the room stands Jude, my ever-watchful manager. He’s quiet but calculating, his eyes darting between my glam team and me like he’s mentally running through a checklist. Jude is a control freak, always has been, and it’s something I’ve grown used to. He was there for me when I first moved to LA, took a chance on me when no one else would, and even let me crash with his family when I couldn’t pay rent. I owe him a lot. But sometimes, that need for control bleeds into parts of my life where it doesn’t belong—like my relationship.
I don’t think Jude likes Lewis. Scratch that—I know Jude doesn’t like Lewis. He sees him as a distraction, a shiny object pulling me away from my work. We’ve had arguments about it before, though I’ve never told Lewis about them. Jude thinks I’d be better off focusing on my career, free of the complications that come with dating someone like Lewis Hamilton.
On the other side of the coin, Lewis doesn’t like Jude either. He hates how Jude seems so close to me, how he constantly tells me what to do, how he’s always hovering, micromanaging my life. It’s a tension I’ve been navigating for months, and tonight, it feels like I’m standing on a tightrope between the two of them.
“You don’t need to be drinking coffee before an event,” Jude says, interrupting my thoughts as he gently plucks the matcha latte out of my hand.
I glare at him, rolling my eyes. “It’s matcha, not coffee.”
“Caffeine is caffeine, Y/N,” he replies matter-of-factly. Layla tugs at my hair with the curler, and I wince slightly.
“Can I live, Jude? Just for one second?” I mutter, annoyed.
Before Jude can respond, Lewis walks in, casually leaning against the doorway. He’s dressed in a simple but sleek outfit—effortlessly stylish, as always. Nobody here knows we’ve been arguing all day, and I’d like to keep it that way. Especially Jude. The last thing I need is one of his rants about how Lewis isn’t right for me.
“You look hot,” Lewis says, his voice low and smooth as he leans down and kisses my cheek. I let him get away with it this time, though I feel Jude’s eyes boring into the back of my head.
“Thanks,” I say softly, not wanting to make a scene.
Layla smiles, clearly enjoying the moment. “Aw, you two are so cute.”
Jude, however, doesn’t look nearly as charmed. “You’ve got to be jet-lagged, Lewis,” he says, his tone neutral but laced with something sharp. “Came all the way here and… what? You have to leave tomorrow?”
I shoot Jude a warning glare, silently begging him to stop. But he doesn’t even glance at me.
Lewis shrugs, unfazed. “Nah, I’m used to the jet lag.” He crosses his arms, leaning casually against the wall as he watches me.
“I wish I had that problem,” Layla jokes, and I can’t help but laugh softly.
Lewis chuckles too, the tension in the room easing slightly. But then Jude, ever the instigator, speaks up again.
“Well, I’m sure Y/N was excited to see you on set,” he says, his tone friendly on the surface but dripping with passive-aggressiveness.
I feel my stomach twist. Why did I tell Jude about Lewis showing up at my set? I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Now he’s using it to stir the pot.
“Yep. It was very cool to see,” Lewis replies evenly, his tone calm but measured. He’s trying to balance the room, to not give Jude the reaction he’s fishing for.
Layla, James, and Clara are still working, oblivious to the tension hanging in the air. I glare at Jude, silently begging him to drop it, but he raises an eyebrow at me, a smug look on his face.
“Don’t even think about talking to Tyler,” Jude says suddenly, his voice sharp.
I freeze, heat rising to my cheeks. Why would he bring that up? Why would he say that in front of Lewis?
“I wasn’t going to,” I reply quickly, my voice tight with irritation.
“Why would she talk to him?” Lewis asks, his tone casual but curious as his gaze flicks between Jude and me.
I feel my chest tighten. Lewis doesn’t know about Tyler, doesn’t know about the brief, messy situation I had with a former castmate before I met him. And now is definitely not the time for him to find out.
“Just making sure she’s thinking,” Jude says, patting my head like I’m a child.
I bite back a retort, clenching my jaw as Jude straightens up. “I’m going downstairs. I’ll get you water,” he says, his tone brisk. “You need water. I’ll get you water.” And with that, he leaves the room.
Lewis raises an eyebrow at me, his expression questioning. I shake my head quickly, silently pleading with him to let it go. For once, he does.
After another half hour, my glam team is finished, and I can’t help but smile as I look at myself in the mirror. I feel beautiful—like, incredibly beautiful. My dress hugs my figure perfectly, and the makeup is flawless.
“You guys make me look so good every time,” I say with a grateful smile, hugging each of them.
“It’s you, not us,” James replies, snapping a photo of me on his phone.
I leave the room, heading down the hall toward my bedroom to find Lewis. I pop my head in and see him lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. For a moment, guilt pricks at me. It’s not like he’s been doing nothing. He came all this way to see me, and I’ve been cold and distant.
“Lew?” I say softly, stepping inside.
He looks up, and his eyes widen as he takes me in. “Goddamn, baby,” he murmurs, standing up and walking over to me. His gaze sweeps over me, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You look so beautiful,” he says, his voice gentle as his fingers brush over my hand, holding it lightly.
I swallow, feeling my stomach flutter. He looks down at me, his eyes filled with something deeper, something vulnerable. “I want to talk… for real. Tonight? Please?” His tone is quiet, almost pleading.
I nod slowly, my resolve faltering. “Yeah… okay,” I mumble, looking away.
His hand tightens around mine briefly before I pull it away. Just as I hear Jude calling for me downstairs, Lewis’s tone shifts, playful but with an edge of truth.
“Don’t you dare talk to any fucking guys,” he teases, though I know he means it. His eyes holding a hint of possessiveness.
I crack a small smile, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, yeah… okay. Bye,” I say as I leave the room.
“Have a good time, baby girl,” he calls after me, and I can feel his eyes on me as I walk away.
——————————————
As always, thank you for reading and appreciating my works.
l hope my writings help you unwind and escape your life in a way that is exciting to you.
Please like and follow for more!
Xoxo
Princess
P.S. what would you like to happen next? I’m open to suggestions!🤍
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anadiasmount · 1 year ago
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imagine you're a celeb, and jude slides into your dms but you're having none of it because duh he's a football player and you know better than to get yourself involved with guys like that, but then you meet at an event and he's flirting but he's kind of intimidated by and you find it amusing but you still don't bug and he's litterally trying for months, months to get you to go on a date with him, and when you finally agree he's realised he's completely in love with you and you kinda are too but you're still guarding your heart because you don't want to lose him but you guys make it work and you become the it couple, private but not secret.
hii! you should also totally check out the fic @20-th-centurygirl posted, that’s called “work for it” as it’s similar to this anon post! please check it out it’s so so good 😣😋🤍
ik jude has mentioned he’s shy when meeting new people or just is in general, so this is making me think of shy! jude when meeting you.
he’d come across you after overhearing a couple of his england teammates talk about you, how you were this shiny new star that has taken over the internet rapidly. that same day he’d look over your profile completely falling for you. the posts you’d dedicated to friends, to charity, and selfies. he wouldn’t hesitate and quickly follow you. liking a few recent pictures and an old one where he liked by accident as he scrolled through your page.
a couple days later he continues to think about you, whether it was at breakfast with his teammates, during training, recovery, hell even if he was trying to fall asleep! your smile and bright eyes would consume his dreams and the reasons for his zoneouts, “yo jude, you good?”
he’d replied with a nod and quickly takes his phone out to send you a dm. he feels slightly embarrassed and shocked to when you don’t respond or bother following back, making him overthink if he should delete the reply. but instead he would find himself at the club with his mates, reacting to your recent story many weeks later.
you scoffed and laughed showing your friends who was hitting you up. it wasn’t that you weren’t interested, you were, but you knew you couldn’t trust him let alone yourself if you would be around him. you have commitment and trust issues after your very public break up, not being able to make friends easily as you did before.
5 weeks would pass by and you would continue to get notifications from jude, biting your cheek anxiously debating whether you should follow back or not. after a recent dm he’d sent you, you’d made the decision to follow him back and just react to his latest message. jude felt like you were ignoring him, which kinda pained him.
jude felt like you were playing hard to get and this would mess with his head after seeing you at a social event in madrid. he couldn’t take his eyes off you, drinking the last bit of his whiskey before having the courage to go over and introduce himself to you.
he would notice the small tint of pink on your cheeks as you had to look up at him, he felt immediate butterflies in his stomach, a tinge of nervousness now invading his system. “hello, i’d like to introduce myself, i’m jude. jude bellingham,” you would accept his handshake.
jude blinked rapidly, eyes roaming up and down your beautiful figure, becoming intimidated by your beauty and the way you made yourself feel and look confident. “i’m y/n, nice to meet you,” you’d smirk at the small shaky breath he released.
watching him stumble over his words trying to form a sentence. he’d be unable to look you in the eye for more than a couple seconds or he would be a mess.
while you know you shouldn’t get involved with a footballer, it felt right with him. jude would constantly check in with you, to see how you were, what you were up to, discussing his and your plans, wanting and offering to hangout bit you would turn him down at every opportunity.
while he slowly lost hope, he wouldn’t give up until you agreed because he had fallen madly inlove with you, even though you were stubborn to him. months and months later, on a special occasion where you would be in madrid again, you find yourself wanting to see jude after so long, texting him if he was still up for the date he suggested.
his palms grew sweaty and with wide eyes, he agreed without hesitation. he needed to see you, hold you, talk to you, just be close and never let go. even though he could tell you were afraid that night told him that the way he felt for you, was the same towards him.
“can i say something?” you’d ask him, watching as he shifted his full attention towards you. “i’m still kinda new to this whole thing… my last relationship was super public and honestly i don’t want that right now,” jude felt his heart sunk, his stomach wanting to throw up the food he’d just ate.
“if you’re still interested, i would love for us to continue having nights like this. i’m sorry for constantly shutting you out, i just have major trust issues and i don’t want to go through what i did again… i’ve healed…” you offer a small shy smile, jude’s eyes searching for hesitation or something that would hold him back.
“of course i am. and i respect you for telling what you did just now, it takes courage and a lot of healing, but you giving me a chance is making me the happiest man in the world y/n… i like you so much, i will protect you from anyone, okay?” jude grabbed your small hands and kissed them softly, but then quickly attached to his face where you kissed him.
the two of you would become the most talked about pair and couple after making it official, often invited to do interviews and shows together. he would soft launch you for months, driving even his teammates insane, but he was madly inlove you with, you were his adoration from here on out. “i love you jude…”
“i love you, princess.”
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snowysosturn · 7 days ago
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Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 12
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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13
Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo
Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?
Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of selling drugs, angst, cursing, mentions of death
Y/n's POV
The walk to college felt longer than usual, the weight of everything I’d learned pressing heavily on my chest. My thoughts raced, unable to settle. Danny. Nate. Chris. How had it come to this? And how much longer could this go on? The morning chill bit at my skin, but it barely registered since I was too caught up in my own head.
Just as I reached the halfway point, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw Willow’s name flash across the screen. Taking a deep breath, I swiped to answer.
“Did you hear about Danny?” Willow’s voice was sharp, tinged with a mix of concern and urgency.
I nodded as though she could see me. “Yeah. I heard it on the radio this morning.”
“God, it’s crazy, isn’t it?” she said, exhaling audibly. “I mean, gang stuff is always on the news, but this.. this feels different, you know? Closer.”
Her words hit harder than I expected. She was right. It wasn’t just some distant tragedy anymore, it was intertwined with people I cared about. “It does” I admitted, my voice quieter than before.
Willow paused for a moment, then asked, “What’s been going on with you? You’ve been so vague since you left my place the other day. Are you okay?”
I glanced around the street, ensuring no one was nearby, before lowering my voice. “There’s.. been a lot.” I hesitated, then decided to tell her everything. “After I went home from yours I thought about what you said. About giving Chris a chance to explain himself.”
“And?” she prompted eagerly.
“And I did. I let him talk.” I bit my lip, thinking back to our conversation, his apology, the weight in his voice. “He drove out to me and we went for a drive, he apologised for everything. Said he wanted to get out of it all, that he hates the life he’s in.”
“Do you believe him?”
I hesitated. “I want to. I mean, he’s been honest with me about it all. He even stayed the night at my place.”
Willow’s gasp was loud enough to make me wince. “Wait? stayed the night? What does that mean, Y/n?!”
“Well we got high first..” I smirked, feeling my cheeks heat up despite being alone. 
“No way!! What was it like? I’ve always wanted to try” Willow exclaimed.
“Yeah it was fun like it felt nice and then.. we talked. Things got.. a little intimate, but it wasn’t—”
“Intimate?” she interrupted, her voice rising an octave. “Define ‘a little intimate.’”
I groaned, already regretting bringing it up. “Okay, fine. We kissed. Things got heated you know but ugh, Willow, can we not make this the focus right now?”
She chuckled. “Alright, alright. Go on.”
“I just.. I want to believe him. I want to think he can actually get out of this, especially after what happened with Danny. But now.. I don’t know. I’m scared for him. For Nate, too. Danny was their family, you know?”
Willow’s voice softened. “Yeah, I get it. It’s heavy. But Y/n, you need to think about what you want. If Chris really is trying to change, then that’s great, but you can’t be dragged into this with him. You know that, right?”
“I know” I said quickly, though the words felt hollow. “I just.. I can’t help but think about how they’re both feeling right now.”
Willow sighed. “It’s a lot, Y/n. But you’re strong. And if Chris is serious about getting out, then maybe there’s hope. Just… be careful, okay?”
“I will” I promised, though I wasn’t sure if I was convincing her or myself.
By the time I reached campus, the call had ended, but Willow’s words lingered in my mind. Be careful. It was sound advice, but how careful could I really be when everything felt so fragile?
I tried to throw myself into my classes, focusing on lectures, assignments, anything that could keep my mind occupied. But every free moment, every lull in conversation or pause in my work, brought me back to Chris and Nate. I couldn’t shake the image of Nate grieving, of Chris carrying the weight of everything he couldn’t say out loud.
I debate back and forth on whether to text Chris, wondering if I should let him know I’ve heard about Danny or if it’s better to just let him have space. My fingers hover over my phone screen, the words typed out but unsent. Hey, I heard about Danny. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I read it over again and again, but I can’t bring myself to hit send. Chris is probably dealing with so much right now, and the last thing he needs is me crowding him.
After a few minutes of overthinking, I finally decide to let it be. We’re supposed to see each other later, and I’ll talk to him then. Maybe he just needs the space to figure things out on his own for now.
The rest of the day at college feels like a blur. I try to keep busy, immersing myself in assignments and discussions, but my mind keeps wandering back to Chris and Nate. How must they be feeling? Losing someone so close in such a brutal way… It’s a reality I can’t even begin to imagine.
I glance at my phone throughout the day, half hoping for a message from Chris, to make plans for tonight but it stays silent. My chest tightens with every passing hour, and I force myself to focus on anything else. When the final class ends, I pack up my things and head out, pulling my airpods from my bag.
The bus ride home feels endless, the cold seeping through my coat as I lean against the window. I put my music on shuffle, hoping it’ll distract me, but the first song that plays makes my heart sink. Everybody Dies in Their Nightmares by XXXTentacion starts in my ears, and it feels like the universe is taunting me.
Willow had said just a few weeks ago that this song reminded her of Nate. Now, with everything that’s happened, it feels like people’s nightmares are bleeding into reality. The lyrics hit differently today, every word tugging at my chest and reminding me how urgent it is for Chris to leave this life behind.
When the bus stops at my stop, I step off and start the walk home, the song still playing in my ears. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a message from Chris:
“Be round in an hour.”
My stomach flips at the sight of his name. I don’t know if it’s relief, anticipation, or anxiety.. maybe all three. But at least I’ve heard from him.
When I get home, I drop my bag in my room and try to pass the time by diving into some college work. My mind isn’t really in it, though. The words on the page blur together as I think about what to say to Chris, how to bring up Danny without pushing too hard.
As I sit there, something outside catches my attention – a faint glow filtering through the window. I frown and look closer, then realise what it is. The treehouse lights are on.
A small smile creeps onto my face. It’s Chris. I know it is. I close my laptop and grab a jacket before stepping onto the balcony.  The crisp night air brushes against my skin as I step onto the balcony, pulling my hoodie tighter around me. The glow from the treehouse lights casts a warm hue in the dark, and I see Chris leaning against the door frame. My heart twists at the sight of him, even from here, I can feel the weight he’s carrying.
“Chris?” I call softly, not wanting to alert my parents.
He turns, stepping closer to the edge of the treehouse so I can see him better. His face looks tired, his jaw clenched tightly as if he’s trying to hold it all together.
“Hey” he says, his voice low and rough.
I hesitate, gripping the balcony railing. I’ve been playing this moment over in my head all day, wondering how to approach it. “I, uh.. I heard about Danny” I say gently. My throat tightens. “How are you? How’s Nate?”
Chris sighs, running a hand through his hair as he leans against the railing of the treehouse. “Nate’s a mess” he admits. “He’s pissed, and he’s not thinking straight. Losing Danny like that.. he was family, you know?” His voice cracks slightly, and he looks away, his gaze distant. “It’s hard. For all of us.”
“I’m so sorry” I whisper, wishing I could say or do something to take the pain away.
For a moment, there’s nothing but silence between us. The faint rustle of the trees fills the space, and I let it sit there, not wanting to push him too much. But the words I’ve been holding back all day finally spill out.
“Chris, you can’t keep doing this” I say, my voice firmer now. “Look what’s happening. People are getting hurt, dying, and it’s only going to get worse. You need to get out. You need to do it now.”
He looks at me, his jaw tightening as he steps back into the shadows of the treehouse. “You think I don’t know that?” he says quietly, but there’s a sharp edge to his voice. “You think I don’t want to walk away from all this?”
“Then do it.” I urge, stepping closer to the edge of the balcony. “Chris, please. This isn’t just about you anymore. This is about Nate, Danny, and everyone else caught up in this mess. And it’s about me too.”
He presses his lips together, the conflict evident in his expression. “I need time” he says finally. “Just two weeks. That’s all I’m asking for. I can’t just walk away overnight.”
“Two weeks?” I echo, my voice breaking. “And then what? How do you know this is even possible?”
“I’ll make it possible.” he says, stepping into the light again. His eyes meet mine, and I can see the desperation in them. “I swear to you, Y/n. I’ll find a way out. Just trust me.”
I let out a shaky breath, my heart at war with my head. I want to believe him, I really do, but the danger surrounding him feels like it’s closing in on both of us.
“I don’t know, Chris” I say honestly, my voice trembling. “How do I know you’re serious?”
He steps closer, leaning against the railing and reaching for my hand. His touch is warm, grounding me despite the chaos swirling around us.
Chris’s POV
I watch as Y/n processes my words, her hesitation clear. I can see the fear in her eyes, and it kills me. She doesn’t deserve any of this. She deserves better, better than me, better than this life I’m stuck in.
But as much as I hate dragging her into this, I can’t let her go. She’s the only good thing I have left, the only thing keeping me sane in all this chaos.
I step closer, leaning against the railing and reaching for her hand. “Be my girlfriend.” I say, the words spilling out before I can second guess myself. 
“I know my life is a mess right now, but I need you. You’re the one thing that makes me feel like I can get through all this. That's how serious I am.”
a/n: sorry for being MIA
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sophrosynesworld · 4 months ago
Text
Betrayal (Pt.5)
Part One: You walk into your home to find your Pro-Hero boyfriend rummaging through your office.
My body sinks onto the cold patio floor, the chill seeping through my skin. Blurry shapes dance before my eyes, the world around me softening into a lavender haze. A wave of euphoria washes over me, drowning my senses.
The night wraps around me, a symphony of chirping crickets and rustling leaves filling the air. My eyes flutter shut, and thoughts slip away, as if they're grains of sand lost to the sea.
The door creaks open, and heavy footsteps echo through the house. A giggle escapes me, bubbling up uncontrollably. Bakugo steps onto the patio, his eyes widening with a familiar look of concern.
"Hey, what's going on here?" Katsuki asks gently, kneeling beside me, his large hand resting on my side. The concern in his voice pierces through my haze.
I look up at him, my vision struggling to focus on his familiar face. "You're home," I slur, a lazy smile spreading across my lips. "I missed you."
He brushes a stray strand of hair from my face, his touch feather-light. "I missed you too, baby." Suki's words are tender as he picks up the nearly empty wine bottle beside me, setting the maroon liquid on the side table. "Why are you out here like this?"
I giggle again, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. "Just… celebrating," I manage to say, though my words are slurred and barely coherent.
"Celebrating what?" he asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"Everything," I murmur, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. The warmth of his body is comforting against the cool night air.
Bakugo shakes his head with a soft chuckle, his breath tickling my ear. He gently scoops me up into his arms, lifting me effortlessly.
"Let’s get you inside," Katsuki murmurs, standing up and balancing both of us perfectly. The familiar scent of caramel envelops me as he carries me toward the house, each step steady and sure. The night’s sounds fade, replaced by the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear.
As he passes through the doorway, I nuzzle into his neck. "How was your mission?" I ask, my voice muffled against his skin.
"Long and exhausting," Katsuki replies, his breath warm against my ear. "But seeing you makes it worth it."
I giggle, the sound softer now. "I'm glad you're back," I whisper, my lips grazing his ear. He shivers, goosebumps rising on his skin.
"I'm glad to be back," he says, pausing for a moment to readjust his grip before continuing through the house. "You know, I was thinking about you the whole time."
"Really?"
"Really," Katsuki assures me, his hold on me tightening slightly as he carefully carries me up the stairs. "You're the reason I push through those missions."
We reach the bedroom, and he gently lays me on the bed, his movements careful. Suki grabs a blanket and drapes it over me, the soft fabric brushing against my skin. I reach up, wrapping my fingers around his wrist, tugging him down beside me, not wanting him to leave just yet.
"You know," I confess, my words slurring together, "I could see myself falling in love with you, Kitkat."
He gives me a half-hearted smile, accompanied with a tender look in his eyes as he brushes his fingers through my hair. "Don't say anything you'll regret."
"Are you even listening to me?"
My head snaps up, locking eyes with Noya, who’s clearly annoyed. Her neatly tied hair and crisp blazer only accentuate the frustration on her face.
“Oh, you are in the office this morning,” she teases, her voice tinged with impatience.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, my fingers fumbling as I reach out to grab a few files from her arms. The papers are cool and smooth to the touch. “I haven’t been sleeping well. I think it’s finally making me delusional.”
Noya's eyes soften just a fraction as she sizes me up. “I’ll order you a coffee and move your 3:45 to tomorrow.” She doesn’t bother waiting for a response, her fingers dancing across her phone screen with practiced ease.
“The commissioner called,” she continues, her eyes still glued to the glowing device in her hand, the tap-tap of her nails creating a rhythmic backdrop.
“Police or hero?” I ask, trying to keep up.
“Hawks,” she replies, not missing a beat. The mention of the hero's name sends a shiver down my spine, waking me up better than any coffee could.
I push the files away, my fingers drumming on the desk. "What did he want?"
Noya finally looks up from her phone, her expression softening. The flicker of empathy in her eyes almost makes me feel worse.
"He didn't say much, just that it was important and that he needed to talk to you personally."
I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples as the dull ache in my head intensifies. "Great, just what I need.”
Noya holds her hands up in surrender, her eyes widening slightly. "I'll just call you a cab, ma'am." She retreats toward the door, her steps quick and cautious, as if afraid to upset me further. The door closes behind her with a soft click, leaving me in the heavy silence of my office.
I stare at the closed door, the anger simmering beneath the surface. Taking a deep breath, I glance at the clock before standing up, straightening my jacket, and heading toward the window. Shops are open and busy for the looks of it, citizens entering and exiting a variety of shops below.
As I wait for the cab, I can't help but wonder what Hawks could possibly want now. Whatever it is, it can't be good. I wonder if it’s about Kitka- Bakugo. My fingers tap against the windowpane, a steady beat that matches the frantic pace of my anxious thoughts.
Outside the window, a sleek black SUV pulls up and parks. A smile spreads across my face as I recognize the familiar figure stepping out of the driver's seat. My phone rings, turning my back to reach for it next to my laptop before turning back around.
"Hello?"
"Come downstairs."
I frown, crossing my arms. "This isn't a good first date Taro."
Unfortunately the gruff man doesn't laugh. "You'd know if this was a date."
I wave at him through the glass, but he doesn't wave back, just nagging me to meet him outside. I sign and reach for my briefcase before leaving my office and heading down to the main entrance. The click of my heels on the marble floors echoes as I make my way out.
Taro steps forward, snapping at one of the men inside the vehicle to grab my briefcase. I hand it over with a playful smile.
"Twice in one week?" I greet him, stopping him before he opens the car door. "I'm starting to think you like my company, Taro." I tease, trying to draw a reaction from the ever-stoic man.
"As much as I'd love to see you in my free time, your father has requested that you join him on a trip. I've come to take you to the airstrip." His voice is as composed as ever, and I laugh, but he doesn't.
"I can't just leave; it's a Wednesday. I have a real job."
"I don't know what to tell you, ma'am. I was just given my orders."
As another vehicle pulls up next to us, a yellow cab this time, I reach for my briefcase, but Taro's expression shifts to one of offense.
"You're… taking another driver?"
I pause, retracting my hand and meeting his tawny eyes. "My assistant called one. I didn't know father would send you."
"I'm here now," he replies, his tone serious.
I laugh again, but Taro remains unamused. He opens the back door of the SUV, extending his hand for me to take. I glance at the cab, the driver looking impatient, and then back at Taro. Without overthinking it, I place my small hand in his, surprised by the coolness of his touch. I slide into the vehicle, pausing before the door closes.
"Next time, give me a heads up," I say, raising an eyebrow.
Taro's lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile. "I’ll see what I can do."
"You have to take me to meet Commissioner Hawks."
"Yes Ma’am."
The door shuts with a soft thud, and the SUV pulls away from the curb. The cityscape blurs past as we drive, the familiar hum of the engine filling the silence. After a short drive, the vehicle pulls up in front of the Hero Commissioner's office. The building looms above us, an imposing structure of glass and steel. Taro steps out and opens my door, offering his hand again as I exit the vehicle. His touch is steady, grounding me as I take a few deep breaths and square my shoulders.
We walk up the steps and into the building's sleek, modern lobby. The air inside is cool, a welcoming difference from the humid Japanese streets. The lobby is bustling with people, each one seemingly more important than the last.
As we approach the security checkpoint, Taro moves to follow me. I raise an eyebrow, surprised by his insistence. "You don't need to come in with me, Taro," I attempt to dismiss him.
He gives me a level look. "No offense ma'am. But you look like you're heading into war... I've been to war. Do you know what the first rule is?"
I raise an eyebrow, confused by this entire conversation. "Don't... die?"
Taro laughs for the first time, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Don't lose your battle buddy."
I sigh, knowing there's no point in arguing with his weird military analogy. "Fine, but don't hover," I reply, a hint of exasperation in my voice.
We pass through security, the guards nodding us through without incident. The elevator ride to the top floor is tense, my anxiety rising like each floor level. As the doors slide open, I step out into the familiar hallway leading to the Commissioner's office. The plush carpet muffling our footsteps as we make our way down the corridor.
Reaching the office door, I pause, glancing back at Taro. His expression remains impassive, a silent guardian. "Wait here," I instruct, my voice more authoritative than intended. He nods, taking a step back to stand against the wall. "I'll need to inform your father of our new plans anyway."
I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I'm a badass woman who doesn't take shit from any man, and knock on the door. A muffled voice from inside beckons me to enter. I push the door open and step into the spacious office. The room is bathed in natural light from the floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a panoramic view of the city below. Commissioner Hawks stands by the window, his back to me, the outline of his wings casting long shadows across the room.
"Thank you for coming," Hawks says, turning to face me. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the room feels smaller.
"You wanted to see me, Commissioner?"
"Yes, thank you for coming on such short notice," Hawks replies, gesturing for me to take a seat.
I sit down, my back straight, resting my hands in my lap. "What's this about?"
Hawks leans back in his chair, his expression turning serious. "We've received some concerning information about a local businessman."
I feel my stomach drop, my heart pounding in my chest. "What kind of activities?"
Hawks' eyes bore into mine, his voice low and steady. "We've been monitoring his involvement with several high-profile criminal organizations. We have reason to believe he's orchestrating a series of operations that pose a significant threat to national security."
I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "What do you need from me?"
"We need you to gather evidence," Hawks says, his tone firm. "We need you to help us build a case against him."
I feel a wave of anger and betrayal wash over me. "You want me to turn against my own father?"
Hawks' expression softens slightly, but his eyes remain resolute. "I know it's a lot to ask. But if we don't stop him, countless lives could be at risk."
"Oh, fuck you." My eyes widen as my the words vomit out of my mouth. I can't get them to stop though, the chaos spill out like water from a spout. "I know about the League. I know what you did."
Hurt flashes across his eyes, his hand loosening his tie from around his neck, ruffling his neon feathers out.
"Are you done?"
"I won't turn against my family."
"So you've said for the 10th time, but you haven't walked out that door yet."
I take a step backwards, pausing.
"I understand your loyalty, but you have to see the bigger picture here. Your father is a dangerous man, and his actions could have catastrophic consequences."
"We used to be friends Keigo.”
“Before you turned into one of them.” Hawks jabs back, taking a few steps forward.
“Do you know what I went through?" My voice is low, tears forming in my eyes.
"I've read the report."
"No," I whisper, activating my quirk. Grey smoke pours out of my left hand, creating a blank canvas shaped like a cloud. I move my other hand forward, releasing a memory into it, playing it before him like a movie. "What I experienced..."
The memory flickers to life, projected into the air. I watch as Hawks' eyes widen, drawn into the scene unfolding before him.
The city lights flicker in the distance as we make our way through the quiet park. Katsuki, slightly unsteady on his feet from the drinks we’ve had, walks beside me, his arm occasionally brushing against mine.
“You know,” he slurs slightly, a crooked grin on his face, “this night… I had a great time.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “You’re drunk, Kitkat.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he admits, his grin widening. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
We reach a small clearing and without warning, Katsuki jumps onto a bench, swaying slightly as he finds his balance. He spreads his arms wide, looking up at the stars before turning his gaze to me.
“Hey!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the empty park. “Listen up extras! I love this woman!” He points dramatically at me, his eyes focused despite the whiskey coursing through his system.
I feel my cheeks heat up, embarrassment washing over me. “Kats, get down from there!” I plead, trying to suppress a laugh.
"Stop grabbing me woman!” He sasses me, holding his hands up in the air so I can't pull him down. “I’m not done yet.” Katsuki takes a deep breath, his expression softening as he looks at me. “You… you make everything better. I don't think I've had someone understand me like you do... I- I love you.”
I take a step closer, my heart pounding in my chest. “Kats…”
Katsuki jumps down from the bench, landing a bit clumsily but managing to stay on his feet. He closes the distance between us, his hands gently cupping my face. “I mean it,” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. “I love you.”
Tears well up in my eyes, and I smile, leaning into his touch. “I love you too.”
The memory fades, the grey smoke dissipating back into my hand. The room falls into a heavy silence, the weight of my loss hanging between us. Hawks looks at me, his expression a mix of guilt and sorrow.
"How am I suppose to move on from this?"
Hawks is silent for the first time, honey eyes focus on mine. He hesitates, but steps forward.
"I had no idea," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Now you do," I respond, crossing my arms over my chest. "Katsuki Bakugo can rot in hell."
Hawks sighs, running a hand through his hair. "His assignment was to become your friend. I never sent him in to break your heart."
I shake my head, taking a step back. "My message still stands."
He opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off, my voice trembling with fear. "If what you're saying about my father is true, then he loved crime more than he ever loved me. That would mean he chose a life of corruption over his own daughter." I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. "If I believe you, I'd have to admit that I have no one left in my life. My mom is dead, my dad would be in prison, and my boyfri—ex-boyfriend," I correct myself, the word catching in my throat. "All of my closest relationships would be gone, leaving me completely alone."
Hawks' face hardens. "If you don't help us, more people will die. Do you want that on your conscience?"
I glare at him. "You want to talk about conscience? You keep insisting my father is some kind of monster, but you haven’t given me any solid evidence. You have no bodies, no eyewitness, you have dust in the desert.”
I turn on my heel, my anger propelling me towards the door.
"He's going to flee the country. If he gets on that plane, we lose him forever.” Hawks warns, his voice cold and threatening.
I stop, my hand gripping the doorknob tightly. I want to say something, but I can't.
"Don’t let him leave." Hawk’s eyes narrow, but I don't respond. Slamming the door behind me with a force that reverberates through the hallway.
As I stride down the corridor, the reality of my outburst starting to sink in. My heart races in my chest, pounding like a drum. I feel the panic rise as I sprint across the hallway, barely making it to the potted plant before doubling over. My stomach churns, and I empty its contents, the bitter taste of bile stinging my throat. The room spins around me, and I clutch the edge of the planter, my knuckles turning white.
Taro, who had been waiting by the elevator, is now rushing toward me. His hands immediately go to my hair, holding it back as I retch. I can hear him speaking, but his words are muffled as I heave. Taro’s right hand travels down my spine, rubbing small, soothing circles on my back. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, feeling utterly disgusting. With a deep breath, I stand up and head towards the elevator, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Taro says nothing, simply matching my pace as we walk in silence.
I let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Tears threaten to spill over, my emotions shifting rapidly trying to process everything. I hate it. I hate not having all the answers. Taro looks over at me.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" he questions, his voice laced with genuine worry.
"Not by a long shot," I reply, shaking my head. “Tell Dad I’ve changed my mind. I’d love to go on that holiday with him after all."
Tags: @justagirlfr @sikuthealien @ninayuki1 @zoast32
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cutecurly-hair · 10 months ago
Text
Hearts Unleashed (Part 5)
Pairing: Nick Nelson x Black!fem!reader
Warning: Fluff, Smut, Body Shaming
Words: 5,738
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The weekend flew by, and before I knew it, Monday had arrived with its usual speed. I found myself back in the same classroom, at the same place and time, but something felt a little different. Nick and I had been texting non-stop over the weekend. It was just casual conversation, nothing special, but for some reason, it made me inexplicably happy.
I noticed a bunch of curly black hair in front of me. Charlie and I hadn't talked since that day. I sent him a bunch of texts, but he didn't reply. I checked with Ellie and Tao, and they hadn't heard from him either. It wasn't just me he was avoiding; it seemed like he was avoiding everyone.
Interrupting my thoughts, Nick said, "This is Nellie," showing me a picture of his dog, and she was the cutest thing in the world.
"Oh, my god, she's so cute! I've always wanted to have a pet, but ever since our cat died when I was little, we just never got a new one," I said, a tinge of sadness in my voice.
Nick's brows furrowed in concern, a cute little habit that I couldn't help but notice when he was puzzled or concerned about something. "You know, maybe you should come round to my house and meet her. Plus, my mom has been bugging me to invite you over" he suggested. I couldn't contain the smile that spread across my face, I don't know if it was because of Nick's mom has been asking about me or Nick inviting me to his house.
"Are you free on Saturday?" he asked hopefully, his brown eyes searching mine.
"Yeah, I think so," I replied, feeling a flutter in my stomach.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ +
"Charlie! Charlie! Wait up!" I yelled across the bustling school hallway, dodging through students those rugby drills are finally proving some use.
Finally catching up to him, I took a moment to catch my breath. "What happened with you? I've been calling and texting you. I was even this close to coming to your house to make sure you were alive," I said, demonstrating the minuscule gap between my thumb and forefinger to prove my point.
Charlie turned to me, his face a mix of surprise and sheepishness. "Sorry, I've been dealing with some stuff, and I needed a bit of space. Didn't mean to worry you."
I crossed my arms, trying to hide my concern behind a facade of annoyance. "A simple 'I need space' text would have sufficed, you know."
He scratched his head, a nervous grin appearing on his face. "Yeah, I know. I'll keep you in the loop next time. Promise."
As we walked, the tension melted away, and our usual banter resumed. Charlie might not be telling me everything, but our friendship stayed solid, thankfully.
"Ugh, I've got a ton to catch you up on," I exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. His laughter filled the air. "Do I detect some juicy gossip?" he teased, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. Even though I haven't talked with him for a couple of days, I still couldn't help but miss him. I had every right to be mad, but I knew deep down Charlie was keeping something from me, but it was within his right to tell me when he is ready.
"Oh, you have no idea," I replied, joining in the laughter.
"You look fine, sweetheart," my mother remarked as she emerged from the archway. She must have noticed my tenth attempt at fixing my hair and the frustrated sigh that accompanied it. Admittedly, I may or may not have put on a little makeup. Sensing my mom's curious gaze, I decided to address it before she could.
"I'm going to a friend's house. I'll be back around 5," I informed her, trying to keep it casual.
"Are you heading over to Charlie's?"
I hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Um, no, his name is Nick," hoping my response would slip past without her catching the name. My mother, sensing something, walked over to me and handed me my coat and gloves, well aware of my tendency to get cold easily. I was honestly not made for cold weather.
"Is this a boy from school? You know how I feel about you going to somebody's house," she probed, hinting at her concerns. I knew I had to choose my words carefully to navigate this conversation if I wanted to be allowed to leave the house.
"He's my classmate in English. I want him to look over my paper that's due next week," I lied, maintaining a calm tone and hoping she wouldn't see through the deception.
"You've never needed help with your papers before. You're really good at writing," she remarked, clearly skeptical of my story.
"This paper is 50% of my grade. I have to do well on it," I asserted, emphasizing the importance of the assignment and knowing that grades were a language my mother understood well. Having dealt with her expectations back home, I knew I had to convince her to let me go.
She looked pleasantly surprised. "Yes, you're right. Grades are important. I'm surprised I didn't have to remind you," she smiled, genuinely pleased to see me showing concern for my academic performance. Seizing the moment, I quickly put on my coat and gloves, ready to head out the door.
"Come back in time for dinner!" she yelled as I walked away. I gave a quick nod to show I heard and hurried off before she could ask more questions.
My hands were practically freezing, despite the gloves doing a lousy job of keeping the cold out. I stubbornly kept them on, pulled my coat tighter, and power-walked down the street. The bone-chilling London winter seemed to pierce right through me, making me pick up the pace even more.
I stood there for a moment, torn between knocking and ringing the doorbell. My indecisiveness was playing its usual tricks on me. But before I could finally decide, the door swung open. There was Nick, giving me a gentle smile.
"Hey," he greeted. It was kinda unexpected to see him so chill and casual, a side of him I hadn't really seen beyond the school environment.
"Hey," I smiled back, deciding to ditch my gloves that weren't doing much to fight off the cold anyway.
Nick made a gesture towards a delightful chocolate and white mix Border Collie. "Uh... this is Nellie."
"Hey, Nellie. You're so adorable," Reaching down to pet the dog behind its ears. The warmth of Nellie's fur against my hand brought an unexpected comfort, making the chilly weather outside seem momentarily forgotten.
"Did you do something with your hair?" he asked, his eyes locked onto my puff ponytail that had consumed a good chunk of my morning. Lately, I'd been experimenting with new hairstyles, breaking away from my usual braids.
I immediately reached up to touch my hair, a hint of worry crossing my face. "Wait, is it bad?"
He shook his head without hesitation, offering a reassuring grin. "No, you look… it looks great." His compliment made me feel like the effort I put into styling my hair that morning was totally worth it.
"Okay, you better come in before Nellie thinks we're going for a walk," he said, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary.
"Okay"
Walking into his house, I couldn't help but notice how incredibly homey it was. The place just radiated coziness, making it clear that it wasn't just a house; it was a warm and welcoming home. Definitely nothing compared to mine, my house was just cold and empty still filled with boxes. I noticed a few portraits on the wall, nowhere really of his dad. Which I have nothing to brag since my parents have been divorce.
He led me upstairs to his bedroom, which I couldn't help but feel uneasy, like it was way to personal...like I shouldn't be here. But as soon as I saw his room it was very clean...? Definitely not what I was expecting.
Nick saw the look on my face "What? What's wrong?" he asked looking around confused. I couldn't help but chuckle, breaking a smile "It's so clean in here...it's weird," But overall, it suits him with the rugby poster littered all over the walls with a cute little light hanging over his bed. There it was again, that small hint of vanilla, smoke and a mix of musk but the musk was a lot stronger.
Dramatically, he placed his hand over his chest, gasping, "Are you seriously thinking that I am weird because I know how to clean,"
"I just never expected something like this," I said, gesturing to the room. Walking around, I noticed a few books on the shelf. "Especially for a rugby player. I mean, aren't you guys supposed to be dirty, by default?" I picked a book off the shelf, the title reading "Le Petit Prince (French Edition)."
A French Novel?
Sensing my curiosity, Nick blushed, swiftly taking the book from my hand and putting it back on the shelf. "My dad gifted it to me, but I barely read it," he admitted, a touch of embarrassment in his expression.
Sensenig that his dad was a sour subject I decided to drop it. Still observing his room, noticing the little trinkets of action figure and posters, until my eyes landing on the little snacks on the TV stand plus Mario Kart next to the Nintendo, excitement bubbled up within me as I took in the familiar sight.
"You have Mario Kart!" I exclaimed, my eyes lighting up at the sight of the game. Memories of playing it flooded back.
Nick's eyes beamed. "You like Mario Kart? Do you know how to play?" he asked, a playful smile on his face.
I nodded. "Me and my Dad used to play all the time when I was little. I still do, just never really picked it back up," I said, shrugging.
"Do you want to play?" he asked, holding the Nintendo playfully.
I smiled. "You don't even have to ask."
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ +
"Come on, Come on I'm in the lead! Can you just let me win" Nick yelled, he was particularly begging at the point.
"It doesn't matter cause you're not going to win," I smirked. He's literally the King of Rugby and practically wins at everything. This is one thing I'm really good at, so I am definitely not going to let him win.
"Can you let me win one time? You've won five or six games."
"I am literary going easy one you,"
"No!" he groaned at the screen when he saw my Princess Peach cross the finish line. I couldn't help but laugh at his reaction.
"You need more practice, Nick. Maybe I can give you some tips," I teased, reveling in the playful banter. It was one area where I knew I could outshine the rugby star.
He pouted, "I don't need tips. I just need a fair chance." The adorable pout he sported was enough to make anyone's heart melt.
"I think this is just Karma kicking you in the ass; you can't be good at everything," I said sarcastically, while grabbing a little popcorn.
He nodded in agreement, "No, you're exactly right. You're just good at everything," he admitted.
"No, I'm not," I chuckled. But there was something in the way he looked at me, and it's been happening a lot lately. I can't quite figure out why he has this knack for making me feel this way. It's as if a single glance from him is all it takes to turn me into a bundle of nerves.
"You are. You're a proper little nerd. And you don't even know it."
"I am not!" I protested, playfully nudging him.
"Let's see. You're good at video games. Literally all school subjects, but especially math's. Amazing at photography. Befriending dogs, and you are good a sports manager. Like I have never seen our gear so clean before-"
"Shut up!" I interrupted in a playful groan, feeling warm flush spread across my cheeks. Covering his mouth, while pushing him onto the bed. It seems this was the only way of shutting him up.
"You know it's true," he mumbled from beneath my hand, a blush coloring his cheeks. "Get off me. Seriously, get off," he added with a laugh, the room filled with our shared laughter.
The laughter quickly faded, leaving a lingering warmth between us. I don’t understand this feeling, I have never felt this way before. Our eyes were saying one thing, but our bodies were saying another. In that stillness, I became aware of the soft sound of snow falling outside.
"Oh, my god" I was star-stuck looking out the window.
His eyes followed mine, and as he turned to the window, a quiet gasp escaped his lips.
"It's snowing."
We just look at each other we didn't have to say anything, we jumped up from the bed, rushing down the stairs putting our coats on. The air was charged with anticipation, I was on the brink of witnessing snow for the very first time in my fifteen years. Nick handing me a hoodie in the process.
I shook my head refusing the offer, but he only shoved it back in my face,
"You were freezing when I first saw you this morning," he chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. But he wasn't taking no for an answer.
I couldn't help but laugh, realizing he had a point. Gratefully accepting the hoodie, I slipped it on, feeling the warmth envelop me trying to ignore his overwhelming scent.
"It's a bit big," you said, glancing at the blue fabric draping down to my knees.
"It looks good on you," he said breathlessly, he was looking directly at me. Two compliments in one day, that was definitely something.
It was absolutely beautiful outside, the cold didn't bother me as much as before, it may or may not have something to do with the hoodie I was wearing.
Nick wasted no time sticking his tongue out to catch the tiny snowflakes. His cheeks had a rosy flush, and there was something about the way the light hit his hair, making it look a bit browner. He looked marvelous.
Caught staring, I locked eyes with him, and there was a fleeting smile on his face. Before I could fully process it, he playfully threw a whole snowball at me, leaving me in disbelief. I hurriedly made a makeshift snowball. It instantly became a snowball fight.
For a moment, just a moment everything seemed perfect, the way he laughed when Nellie was eating the snow. To when he brushed the snow off my hair. The way he took pictures of me when I made snow angles. When he laid beside me all I did was listen to him talk any and everything.
It was just perfect.
I couldn't shake the knot in my stomach, and suddenly, those stolen glances and shared moments held a new weight. When he looks at me, it's like he's seeing something beyond the surface. There's this intensity in his gaze, and I can't help but admire the way he looks at me. The way his eyes light up when he smiles, the little expressions that make him uniquely him. The realization hit me -
I have a crush on Nick Nelson
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ +
"Are you even listening to what I'm saying?" Ellie snapped her fingers in front of my face, trying to grab my attention. My eyes, however, were glued to the three little bubbles dancing across my screen, eagerly awaiting Nick's response.
Ellie couldn't resist taking a peek at my screen, and a knowing smirk crept onto her face as she shook her head. "Oh, I see what's got you all distracted now."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening," I mumbled, tearing my eyes away from the screen to meet Ellie's amused gaze.
She chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "Nick, huh? The mystery guy who's got you glued to your phone?"
Blushing, I tried to downplay it. "We're just chatting, you know, about random stuff."
"Random stuff, right," Ellie teased, wiggling her eyebrows. "I've seen that look before. You've got the 'crush glow' all over your face."
Rolling my eyes, I shrugged. "Oh, come on. It's not like that. We're just friends."
Eyebrow raised; Ellie smirked. "Friends who text 24/7, interesting definition of friendship."
I sighed, realizing she saw through my attempt at nonchalance. "Okay, fine. Maybe there's a tiny crush. But seriously, don't make it a big deal."
Glancing out the window, I spotted Nick chatting with a pretty girl that I always seen around school. They were standing so close, and her laughter reached my ears even through the closed window. My heart sank as I watched them share a moment. She was effortlessly charming and ever so pretty, and the way Nick's eyes lit up in response made my stomach churn. It felt like they were in their own bubble, leaving me on the outside looking in.
Ellie looked at me and she frowned and nudged me gently. "Y/N, what's going on? You look like you've just seen a ghost."
I forced a weak smile, attempting to mask the turmoil inside. "Oh, nothing. Just caught up in my thoughts, you know?"
But Ellie wasn't buying it. She followed my gaze, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene outside. "Oh...that's Imogen. That's one of Nick's close friends,"
"Oh, really?" I tried to sound casual, but I could feel a knot forming in my stomach. "Just a friend, huh?"
Ellie shot me a knowing look, her eyebrows raised. "Y/N, are you getting jealous?"
"What? No!" I protested a bit too quickly, my cheeks heating up. "I mean, why would I be jealous? We're just friends, like I said."
Ellie chuckled, clearly amused by my reaction. "Sure, just friends. a friend who you have a crush on."
I rolled my eyes, attempting to change the subject. "Let's focus on something else. What were you saying before about our plans for the weekend?"
Ellie raised an eyebrow, clearly not letting me off the hook that easily. "Smooth transition, but we'll get back to this later. Anyway, I was thinking we could do a little movie night at Tao's. We can bring some snacks, binge-watch our favorite films, and just unwind."
"Yeah, that sounds great," I replied, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. "Movies and snacks sound like the perfect distraction."
As we continued discussing our weekend plans, my mind kept drifting back to Nick and Imogen. I couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between them. Were they just friends, or was there a deeper connection? The uncertainty gnawed at me, and I found myself absentmindedly scrolling through our previous texts.
The guys were practicing for an upcoming match, and I was just here cleaning the Rugby they have already gotten so dirty after a couple of throws. Occasionally, Nick would glance over in my direction, offering a reassuring smile or a quick wave.
"I can't believe they have cleaning rugby balls. Doing the dirty work while we get all the glory?" Charlie teased, nudging me with his elbow.
I chuckled, playfully swatting at him. "Someone's got to keep these in top-notch condition. Can't have you all playing with muddy balls, can we?"
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of action, I noticed I haven't been seeing you lately. Any particular reason?"
I hesitated for a moment, debating how much to reveal. Finally, I decided to open up to Charlie, knowing he'd always knows what to do. "Well, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. You know, get some 'guy advice.'"
"I think I am the worse person to give 'guy advice'. especially now" Charlie looked down the ground.
Noticing the sadness in his eyes, I joked around with him "Oh come on, Charlie, don't be so hard on yourself. You're my go-to guy for advice, whether you like it or not."
He managed a small grin, "Alright, shoot. What do you need from my services this time?"
I sighed, glancing back at Nick on the field, his focused demeanor contrasting with the playful banter of the other players. "It's just... things have been different lately. We've been hanging out more, texting, you know, normal friend stuff. But I can't help but feel there's something more."
Charlie looked worried as soon as I brought up Nick's name, "Of course this is about Nick Nelson,"
I nodded, "Yeah, it is. I mean, we're friends, but there are these moments, these looks, and it makes me wonder if there's something more. And then today- I don't know... it just hit me differently."
Charlie glanced around to ensure no one was eavesdropping before he spoke. "Look, I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but there's something I think you should know."
My heart sank a little, and I furrowed my brows in concern. "What is it, Charlie? You're making me nervous."
He took a deep breath before continuing "Okay so Tao told me to tell you that-
"Wait why couldn't Tao just tell me himself?"
Charlie looked a little uneasy "Because Tao is Tao"
Great he still doesn't like me.
I shook my head, urging Charlie to continue. "Tell me what Tao said."
He took a deep breath before continuing, "Tao found out from a friend who is also friends with Nick, and he said that Nick is single. But he is super interested in this girl that was originally from the all-girls school."
I swallowed the lead in my throat "What girl,"
Charlie sighed looking out onto the field "Her name's Tara Jones,"
My heart sank as Charlie dropped the bomb about Nick's interest in Tara Jones. Her name replayed in my mind like an annoying song on repeat. I couldn't shake off the blame creeping in why did I let myself get attached? Was I just too naive, thinking there could be more between us?
Nick's wave from the field added salt to the wound. I managed a feeble smile and a wave back, but inside, it felt like a whirlwind of emotions. Watching him, I questioned every shared laugh and conversation we had. Were they all just leading up to this moment where he'd be drawn to someone else?
The game raged on in the background, but my world stood still in that painful moment of realization. The cheers from the crowd turned into distant echoes, drowned out by the pounding of my heart, echoing the rhythm of disappointment.
How can I be so stupid.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ +
She was so beautiful, and I could see why Nick might be into her. Browsing through her social media, her confidence and elegance just stood out. It's something I feel like I lack. Her dark skin had this warm, rich tone that glowed in every photo. The more I looked, the more I found myself comparing. It made me question if I could ever match up to someone like her in Nick's eyes. The more I scrolled, the more I felt like an outsider peeking into a world that seemed so different from mine.
"See, I told you," Tao said, peering over my shoulder. Charlie shot him an annoyed look.
"Tao, come on, give it a rest. This doesn't necessarily mean anything," Charlie snapped.
"Like hell it doesn't," Tao retorted. I deeply sighed; their bickering wasn't making the situation any better. Isaac looked at me with a hint of concern.
"We don't even know if she actually likes Nick back," Isaac chimed in, attempting to offer some comfort.
Charlie scoffed, "I'm the one stuck seeing them in class every day, and trust me, it's nauseating. Believe me, he's into you," he added, shooting me a look.
Tao, fixing his gaze on Isaac, cautioned, "I've warned you about fueling romantic fantasies that just won't happen. Life isn't a romance novel, you know." ignoring Charlie reassurance.
"But I want to believe in romance." Isaac wined still looking hopeful. Our heads turned to the door when Ellie came in, Isaac immediately jumped at the chance "Ellie! So, there's this girl at school who Nick's got a crush on?"
"We've heard from multiple sources" Tao cut in, but Isaac completed ignored him "We don't know if they're a thing. Can you talk to her? Since she is in your year"
Isaac's hopeful gaze shifted to Ellie, who raised an eyebrow at his enthusiasm. "Whoa, slow down. First, spill the tea. Who's this mystery girl Nick's into?" Ellie said, playing dumb while glancing at me to check if it was Imogen we were talking about. I just quietly shook my head no
Tao chimed in, "Her name's Tara Jones. She was originally from the all-girls school."
Ellie crossed her arms, processing the information definitely wasn't expecting that. "Tara Jones? She's a sweetheart, I don't know Tara that well. I can just go up to her and ask who she fancies. And I'm, too busy being the cool, mysterious new girl, who everyone wants to hang out with."
Isaac quickly jumped back into the conversation, seizing the opportunity. "We just want to know if there's something going on between her and Nick. You know, for Y/N's peace of mind."
"I'm fine. It's honestly fine. I'm just being an idiot and overthinking things," This whole thing has been stressing me out, more than I realize. It's probably best if I cut my losses now before I get more attached.
Ellie gave me a sympathetic glance rolling her eyes while she sighed "Well, I can try to find out, but no promises, only if I get a chance I'll ask her,"
I flashed her a thankful smile, and Isaac promptly leaped into Ellie's arms. Sometimes, I forget how much of a hopeless romantic he is. Charlie joined in, gesturing for me to join them. Gratefully, I embraced the warmth of the hug. I realized I wouldn't know where I'd be without them.
Tao sat there, glaring, watching the scene.
The next school day rolled around, and I made a quick stop at the boys' locker room to check on inventory, making sure to steer clear of any awkward encounters, especially with Nick Nelson. Luckily, I managed to avoid any unexpected run-ins. However, as I strolled to my next class, it hit me that I'd be sharing a class with him soon. The knot in my stomach tightened, and a sense of unease settled in, a reminder of the events from the day before.
Waving at Charlie as I eased into my seat, a jumble of nerves hit me hard. Concentrating seemed like an impossible task, with my thoughts entirely hijacked by the looming encounter with Nick. What in the world was I even going to say to him, if I mustered the courage to say anything at all? The classroom blurred as my mind grappled with racing thoughts.
"Y/N?" he said, staring right at me with worried eyes.
Finally returning back to earth, I mumbled, "What?"
"You just spaced out," he observed.
Not knowing what to say, I managed a simple "Oh," fiddling with my blue pen, which oddly seemed to help with my nerves. Nick, sensing the habit, scooted closer to me. I swear I could feel his body warmth.
"What's up?" he said, looking directly at me. "I can tell when something's on your mind," he added in a hush, leaning even more closely.
Gosh, I hate the way he makes me feel. The way I act around him is ridiculous. I hate that every time he gets close, my heart races, every touch, every feeling. I hate all of it!
Why does he make me feel this way?
"Do you...Do you want to come to my house later?" I blurted out, causing for Charlie to peek over at me with panic eyes screaming What the hell are you doing!
He looked surprised, but all he can do is smile.
Mom is not going to be here until super late, so I can have the house all to myself. I cleaned from top to bottom of house, throwing all the boxes away and tightening up everything was squared away.
Hearing a knock at the door, it was him standing at my door smiling from ear to ear.
"Hey"
Opening the door for him, "Hey,"
"So, how does this work?" he asked hesitantly, glancing around the room as if unsure of what to capture with my old Canon. The way he held the camera was so awkward, it brought a smile to my face.
Figuring it was a fair trade after all the rugby lessons, I decided to teach Nick a thing or two about photography.
"You can take a picture of anything you like, really. It could be something beautiful, something that grabs your attention, or simply anything that intrigues you," I explained, observing him furrow his brows while peering through the viewfinder.
"Anything?" he asked, seeking confirmation.
I nodded, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up my eyes. "Exactly! That's the beauty of it. Photography allows you to freeze a moment in time, to capture something you love, like, or find amusing. It's incredible how a single image can encapsulate so much emotion, tell a story, or even memories."
Nick listened attentively, his curiosity evident. I continued, "You see, every photo has a story behind it. It's a way of preserving feelings, experiences, and moments that might otherwise fade away. You get to share your perspective with others through the lens, allowing them to see the world through your eyes."
As I spoke, I could see Nick growing more intrigued, absorbing the idea of photography beyond just pressing a button. "Give it a try," I encouraged, "Capture something that stands out to you, something you'd want to remember."
Right as I looked back at Nick, I noticed that fuck, he was looking directly at me. His eyes looked into mine and there it was again, that knot in my stomach. I didn't know what to do, I had completely froze. His eyes seemed different though-
Feeling a buzz in my pocket, I checked my phone. It was a message from my mom, letting me know she wouldn't be home until midnight and that there was lasagna in the fridge. A sigh of relief escaped my lips, knowing I wouldn't have to explain having a boy in my room when she returned.
Hearing a click, I turned to Nick, curious about what had caught his attention through the lens of my camera. "What did you take a picture of?" I asked.
"Just something that I thought was beautiful," Nick replied with a soft smile, his eyes lingering on mine. Raising my eyebrows confused but also curious. He didn't say anything at all, other than putting the camera down.
"Want to watch a movie?" he suggested,
"Already one step ahead of you," I grinned, pulling out one of my favorite Marvel movies.
We settled into the living room couch, time passes by, and my eyelids begin to grow heavy. Waking up to see the credits rolling I quickly sat up. I completely sleep through the whole entire movie.
Looking out the window, it was dark outside, looking at Nick he seemed to be tensed.
"I feel asleep, didn't I?" I chuckled.
Nick's lips curved into a gentle smile, "Yeah, you did. Must have been a comfortable couch."
I stretched my arms, attempting to shake off the drowsiness. "Sorry about that. I guess I needed the nap."
Nick shrugged, "No problem. You looked peaceful."
We sat quietly, the feel of the movie night still in the air. Even with the unexpected nap, the evening felt calm.
"I should probably head home," Nick said, glancing at the time. "It's getting late."
As he stood up, I walked him to the door. Opening it without caring about the cold air seeping in, the night possessed a certain calmness, and the air held a subtle tension, like the moment before something shifts.
"Thanks for inviting me over," Nick said, and for a moment, our eyes met in a way that spoke volumes, yet said nothing at all.
"I wish that you didn't have to go," I admitted, feeling the weight of the night settling in.
"I wish I didn't either," Nick confessed, a hint of reluctance in his voice.
"You look so cuddly like that," he added, his gaze lingering on my knitted sweater.
My eyes softened, and a playful grin tugged at the corners of my lips. "You think so?"
He nodded, smiling back at me. "Yeah, like a giant teddy bear."
I chuckled, feeling a warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with the sweater. "Well, I guess I'll take that as a compliment."
Nick's cheeks turned a shade of pink, and he scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face "It's meant to be one," he replied, and we stood there for a moment, the unspoken words hanging in the air.
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, if I didn't have early morning practice, I might consider staying longer."
I felt a subtle warmth spreading through me. The casual banter, the shared laughter it all felt so easy and right. Yet, there was an unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that lingered between us.
"I guess I'll see you around," Nick said, but he didn't make a move to the open door; it looked like he wanted to say something else he just couldn't find the words.
As he stepped closer, the air between us seemed to shift, and before I knew it, he pulled me into a gentle hug.
Vanilla. Smoke. and Musk
I slowly wrapped my arms around, wanting to not let go, but he quickly pulled away, backing towards the door.
"Um… catch you on Monday," he mumbled, clearing his throat, his gaze fixed anywhere but on me. He melted into the night, leaving me standing there, gaping at the door, with a whirlwind of thoughts spinning through my mind.
Charlie casually peeked around the side of the door, and from the look on his face, it was clear he caught the whole thing.
"Still questioning if he's into you?" Charlie asked, shooting me a knowing look.
Part 6 Link Here: https://www.tumblr.com/cutecurly-hair/759302465187414016/hearts-unleashed-part-6
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grandpeachpersona · 12 days ago
Text
It's A Man's World
Chapter 5 (Batter up)
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a/n: To clarify, I do not own the rights to any pictures or names used in this story, except for Sierra Riley. All other rights and names belong to the NFL and MLB. Additionally, some characters are inspired by the game MLB The Show 24, which includes fictional characters. The title of the book is inspired by the song "It's a Man's World" by James Brown and Betty Jean Newsome, for which I also do not own the rights. All rights are held by Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp. and Unichappell Music, Inc. Enjoy!
If you had told me 10 years ago that I would be playing for the Atlanta Braves, I would have told you. You're lying, but here I am. After the draft, I had to fly to Florida for spring training, and then when that was over, I flew to Atlanta to sign my rookie contract, which is $380k for my first year plus a 2 million signing bonus. Then fly to Cincinnati for my first game for the season. Safe to say I've had a crazy couple of weeks. 
Oh and how fitting that Joe is throwing out the first pitch since its Reds opening day.  So it's really true what they say. It does come full circle. 
I walked out from the clubhouse into the away dugout. I noticed Joe in the batter's box swinging a bat at baseballs as they fired out the shooter and must I say he looked damn good while doing it too. 
Ok, time I come clean about something. Do I have a crush on my best friend Joe Burrow? Yes. Am I scared to tell him? Yes. Why? because if I do I'm going to make a complete fool of myself and I just do not want to risk that and possibly losing a friend.  
But friends don't text each other every day for random things or have late-night phone conversions like they used to when they were in LSU together. To sum it up over the last couple of months Joe and I have slipped back into our old ways and not that I'm complaining I just wish we were more. 
I noticed Joe had finished and might as well say hello. I walked out towards home plate catching the tail end of his conversation “I'm so proud of her…to watch her play in college I knew she was big league bound and now she's here.” I heard Joe tell my teammate Austin Riley, a third baseman. 
“There's the woman of the hour!” I hear Ja’marr call out as I make my way toward the group, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves.
I shake my head, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “Stop! I'm done crying for today,” I reply, my voice tinged with a slight whine, reflecting the emotional rollercoaster I've been on.
Ja’marr looks at me with a supportive smile. “How do you feel? Are you ready for this?” he asks, his eyes filled with genuine concern. I nod slowly, trying to muster a confident expression despite my jitters. “I feel ready; I’m just trying not to overthink everything,” I admit, forcing a nervous smile.
“Sis, you’ve got this in the bag!” Ja’marr encourages, his voice steady and reassuring. “Don’t let them cloud your mind—just play your heart out, like you do every time.” His words resonate with me, pushing back the self-doubt that threatens to creep in.
“Ri, you’ve worked your ass off for this moment,” Joe chimes in, giving me a playful nudge on my shoulder. “You’re going to absolutely kill it today! And we just happen to have front-row seats to witness your brilliance.” His enthusiasm and belief in me fill me with warmth and motivation.
Nodding, I accept their words with a grateful smile, feeling a rush of confidence. “Thanks, you guys! That really helps. But now I have to ask: what the hell is this?” I say, gesturing pointedly at the Cincinnati jerseys they are both proudly wearing. They burst into laughter, clearly thinking they could charm their way out of my noticing their blatant team allegiance.
“Hey it was a gift from them but believe me I would wore yours if I could” Ja'marr gives his excuse. I turn to Joe waiting for his.
“I'm from Ohio.” he gives the most obvious answer—typical Joe.
------
Against all odds, Joe delivered a flawless pitch after the pregame festivities and the stirring national anthem. I could feel the excitement coursing through me—this was my moment, my MLB debut.
As they called my name, I heard Joe and Ja’marr erupting with cheers from their private suite through the crowd their support only boosted my confidence and set the stage for what was about to happen.
I locked in my focus, ready to face the pitcher. He glanced at the runner on first, then turned his gaze to me and wound up for the throw.
The pitch came rushing straight at me! I instinctively jumped back, narrowly avoiding it. “One ball, no strikes.” But that wasn’t a mistake; he wanted to rattle me. Too bad for him—I’m not easily shaken. 
I reset myself, gripping the bat firmly, ready for the next challenge. The pitcher checked the runner again and delivered another pitch.
This time, he made a crucial misstep—an offspeed pitch! I saw it coming, and without hesitation, I swung with all my power. The crack of the bat was electric, and I sent that ball soaring out of the park. A home run on my very first hit! 2-0, baby! Now that’s how you make an unforgettable debut. 
-------
We won only by the skin of our teeth 5-4. I had just changed out of my away uniform into some sweets and a hoodie when I heard a knock on my locker room door. 
“It's open” I shout, not feeling like walking to the door. 
The door opens and Joe pops his head in “Hey can I come in?” 
I waved my hand “Yeah come on” 
 He steps in closing the door behind him “Getting ready to head out just wanted to say you looked great out there today” he compliments. 
“Thanks, I had to show off a bit, you know. Oh! I meant to give this back to you, but everything just happened so fast,” I said, remembering his chain that he gave to me to wear on Daft Night. But I never did give it back to him. If I remember right, I was in my gym bag. Bingo pulled it right out. 
I went to hand it back to him be he stopped me “Keep it Ri” 
 “Huh?” I said making sure I heard him right. This boy is crazy.
Joe cracked a little smile “Keep it...believe me I've got plenty”  
I looked at him to make sure he wasn't joking “You sure cause this is worth more than my signing bonus” I joked nervously.
He smiled and nodded his head “Yeah I'm sure think of it as an ‘I knew you would make it’s gift”.
I smiled “Ok no take takebacks Burrow,” I said putting back in my bag. 
“What are you doing when you leave here?” Joe asked suddenly. I shrugged my shoulders. “It's still early so I'm not really tired. Might just chill back at the hotel. Why what's up?” I answered taking a seat on the bench.
He looks at me for a second then slightly shakes his head. “Some friends of mine wanted to go out to eat and all but Ja'marr had to leave soo…” 
“You want me to go in his place?” I finished the sentence for him. 
This is not anything new. I went to a lot of Joe's events as his plus one back in LSU. And he did the same thing for me. 
“Yeah but if you want to call it a day I understand” he quickly says.
I shake my head with a laugh “No I'll go with you, Joe. Plus it would be nice to get a breather before tomorrow's game” I said, opening up my suitcase. 
“Give me a few to get changed and I'll be right out”
Joe raised his eyebrows “You really could go in what you have on” he said nonchalantly 
Is this boy out of his mind? “Joe I'm not hanging out around people I don't know in a hoodie and sweatpants,” I said looking at him all upside his head.
“Yes, you can cause one where only going to Texas Roadhouse. Two you just finished a hell of a baseball game and have a right to wear this. And if someone has a problem with it then we can go and have our own dinner” he says the confidence just flows out as he says it.
My stomach should have not tightened up but I just love how protective this man is. Biting my lip not knowing what to say except “Alright let's go”
-------
Joe was walking me up to my room after that impromptu hangout session with his friends which by the way all amazing. 
“Yeah I'm definitely paying for this tomorrow,” I said feeling like I was ready to pop. 
Joe gives out a small chuckle “Yeah that makes two of us”  
I give him this funny look “You got time to burn it off, Joe. I on the other hand have to play a game tomorrow” I said pulling out my keycard for my room. “Fair point Far point,” Joe said not disagreeing with me
Stopping in front of my room “This is me” I said turning to Joe “Thanks again for inviting me” I said suddenly nervous as I looked at him and his features pretty blue eyes, dirty blonde hair so silky you could run your fingers through it and not get tangled. To some it up this boy was fine. 
His voice knocked me out of my thoughts “No thank you for coming. I owe you one for this Ri” 
Yeah, a date.
“What’d you say” I saw Joe's eyebrows raise..Did I say that out loud could have sworn I said that in my head. 
“I didn't say anything,” I said quickly shaking my head trying to avoid this conversation at all costs.
“Nah, Nah you said something. What did you say?” he asked stepping a little closer. Looking the other way with a blush on my cheeks “I said a date” I repeat my words still not looking a him. 
He stood there with the biggest smirk on his face “I still didn't hear what you said say it again and this time” he paused to gently grab my chin “Look at me” 
Soaked absolutely Soked straight through.
Unable to move I said it again looking straight dead in his eyes “A date. You owe me a date” 
Joe nodded his head and let my chin go “That's what I thought you said” he said stepping away from me. “Ok, how about this. If you get to the World Series which I know you will I'll take you on a date” he said proposing a challenge or more like a bet. “Ok and if I don’t,” I said waiting for the catch no pun intended. 
“Then I still take you on the date’
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erideights · 6 months ago
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With my 6th sense. (1)
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Pairing: Hunter x fem! jedi reader
Rating: this is the first chapter let's take it slow
Wordcount: 2.2K
Chapters: (2) (3) (4)* (5)* (*not posted yet)
Warnings and tags: use of (Y/N) but I keep it as minimum as possible tho my writing style is in 3rd person, so it's a bit difficult! apart from that none really, just introduction to the story, slight mentions of war maybe, but i can already tell you, this will be an ''i hate you-to-love you'' (calling them enemies doesn't really fit in)
Summary: (This story happens about around a year before The Bad Batch is introduced in The Clone Wars) Another day, another suicide mission for the squad. This time commanded by a jedi general they've never hear about.
A/N: I'm back after MONTHS with a new hyperfixation and no one can stop me. I'm jumping really late to TBB ship but I guess I would give it a try. Or write it for myself. As always, I'll make it a small series, and I hope all of you will enjoy it ♥ (my main language is not english so sorry if there are some mistakes)
Side note: PLEASE read the intro with the voice of The Clone Wars intro, thanks.
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Coruscant!
In the aftermath of the Republic's recent defeat in the growing war in the outer rim, the Jedi Order finds itself at a crossroads, and generals such as Mace Windu, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and (Y/N) convene to strategize their next move in a desperate bid to stop the advance of the Separatist invasions. As they discuss their next course of action, each voice carries the weight of the galaxy's fate. For the Republic's survival hangs in the balance, and only through unity and courage can they hope to emerge victorious against the relentless onslaught of their enemies.
"Feels like they can predict our every move," Master Mace Windu exhales, his eyes glued to the holomap of the base, his hand thoughtfully stroking his chin. The dim light of the briefing room casts a stern shadow on his face, reflecting the gravity of the situation.
"And it's not just that," Obi-Wan interjects, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and concern. "During our last mission, Anakin and I encountered a new type of battle droid..." He sighs heavily, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the memory. His eyes narrow as he recalls the encounter. "This droid kept its distance, observing us while we dealt with all the others. By the time it engaged, it had analyzed, memorized, and adapted to our combat patterns. It knew exactly how to dodge our attacks and counterattack almost instantly."
"Are you serious?" (Y/N) asks, her brows furrowed in disbelief, crossing her arms over her chest. That sounds like a nightmare. Sure, a sniper could take it out from a distance, but up close? For them Jedi, trained in close combat, it could be a real pain in the ass.
"Yeah, and that's putting it mildly," Obi-Wan replies, his voice tinged with worry. "Anakin believes it's still in the development phase. The droid's assembly was far from perfect, almost like it was a prototype. But if they keep working on it, refining it... it could become a serious threat."
The room falls into a tense silence, so thick it almost feels suffocating. The three Jedi and Commander Cody, standing to Obi-Wan's right and always ready to offer some tactical advice, know what this means: if they want to halt the development of these new droids, or at least stay a step ahead, they need to steal the blueprints, and the Separatist droid blueprints are securely kept in…
"Looks like one lucky squad’s gonna have the great honor of infiltrating Serenno," the younger Jedi breaks the silence with a touch of sarcasm, tapping a few buttons on the holo-map to display the planet in question. Almost unexplored, impossible to get ships close enough to scan it completely.
"That’s too reckless," Windu comments immediately.
"It’s a suicide mission," Obi-Wan agrees.
"It’s risky, but not impossible."
"You spend way too much time with Anakin."
"Actually, Anakin spends too much time with me," she corrects with a playful smirk, crossing her arms again and leaning back against one of the control panels behind her.
"If I may…" Cody interjects, stepping forward and nodding to formally request the floor. Windu acknowledges him with a nod of his own. "A mission like this needs a small team. No more than four or five soldiers, with one of you leading. And I know just the squad for the job."
"The 501st?" Windu asks, his brow raised, well aware of the battalion’s formidable reputation.
"No," Cody shakes his head, his helmet tucked under his left arm. "Clone Force 99. I've worked with them before. They’re elite commandos, defective clones with desirable and really convenient mutations. Their success rate on high-risk missions is 100%."
"But...?" (Y/N) catches a deep, well hidden hint of hesitation in the commander's voice and refuses to let it slide. She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side to scrutinize him closely.
"But," Cody clears his throat, aware of how his words might sound for the Jedi, "let’s just say they’re an unconventional squad. Their methods don’t exactly mesh well with captains, commanders, or generals who aren’t flexible or willing to...improvise on the fly, or disregard orders from above."
"That description sounds vaguely familiar," Obi-Wan remarks, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he blatantly turns his head to look at her. She purses her lips and shrugs, as if the comment had nothing to do with her peaceful persona.
"I just like being practical, and let’s be honest, plans usually never work out as we would like them to. Following orders isn’t always the best option on the table when the situation becomes a life or death type of scenario."
"I think we’ve found the perfect person to lead this mission," Obi-Wan concludes, a knowing smile spreading across his face.
(Y/N) and Obi-Wan then turn their gaze towards Windu, who appears to be deeply pondering the situation. It’s a dangerous mission, far too dangerous. Infiltrating Serenno could be compared to a Separatist squadron trying to infiltrate Coruscant right now. Reckless, not worthy at all. And even though she has proven her capabilities time and again, earning the respect of the Jedi Council since before she was knighted, this exceeds the usual risks they take. But at the same time, if they don't do it, they could lose more than just a squad—and with bad luck, a Jedi.
"Go ahead," Windu finally says, his tone decisive.
"Great, infiltrating the heart of enemy territory is always my favorite kind of mission," she quips, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, a smirk tugging at her lips.
...
"I had no clue there were defective clones out there," Obi-Wan remarks, arms folded, his gaze scanning the distant skyline of Coruscant from the base.
"Me neither, but the whole idea of working with a bunch or weird, mutant clones sounds fascinating," (Y/N) replies without missing a beat, a spark of excitement lighting up her eyes as she contemplates leading such an unconventional mission. She's still one of the few Jedi without a permanent legion or squad under her command, always bouncing from one assignment to another, going wherever she's needed as reinforcement. A bit like the 99, Cody thinks, observing both Jedi with a smile playing on his lips.
"You're about to find out just how interesting they can be, General."
And as if his statement was a cue and they were living in a movie, a shuttle rockets onto the landing pad, causing chaos among the ground crew. Its engines roar as it touches down, sending crates of military gear flying through the air like confetti at a parade.
"Someone just lost their flight rights." She mutters, a wide grin spreading across her face. Obi-Wan -ever so subtle- smirks beside her, wondering which of those so-called elite defective clones managed to botch a landing so badly. Did they miss their flying lessons?
The ramp of the shuttle, which she discovers it's heavily customized now that she can take a better look at it, slowly lowers, revealing four individuals waiting to come out, each more particular than the last. Their armor, adorned in black and red, seems customized to what (Y/N) guesses are their individual strengths and quirks.
The first one down the ramp, still wearing his helmet, glances around as if assessing the potential damage done to the landing pad. From his body language alone, she would expect him to be the genius who managed that landing. What she doesn’t expect, though, is his face under the helmet. Actually, none of theirs.
"Well, they certainly don’t look like clones," Obi-Wan comments a bit louder than intended, but he's right. They all share a distant resemblance to the regular clones—maybe like... distant cousins—but if they weren’t in the army, you’d never guess they were clones at all. Each one of them is… unique, and they’ve already piqued (Y/N)’s curiosity even before a proper introduction.
"Commander," one of them greets Cody as soon as the squad reaches them, raising a hand to shake his own. His long, dark, wavy hair is already distinctive enough, but his tattooed face really adds to his intimidating persona. He truly looks like someone who could kill you in a matter of seconds if he wanted to. 
"Good to see you, Sergeant. It’s been a while. This is Jedi General (Y/N)," Cody introduces her, and she nods at them with a charming small smile plastered on her face. "She'll be leading this suicide mission and will be your only reinforcement this time."
It might just be her imagination, really, but she could swear the clone Cody referred to as sergeant is not exactly happy with the sudden news about the mission’s command. Feeling as if a speeder had just run over her a thousand parsecs per hour, and judging by the way he suddenly looks her up and down to the speed of light, silently analyzing her, she'd say this strong feeling of rejection she perceives through the Force, comes from him.
Awh, she didn’t even open her mouth yet and she’s already made a new friend. How cute.
"General," he nods politely, like any good soldier would have done, but with this… noticeable detachment in his manner. "Sergeant Hunter of Clone Force 99. These are Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair." He introduces his team one by one, each giving the Jedi a quick glance and a nod.
‘’Let me guess,’’ she starts, biting the inside of her cheek before pointing with one of her right fingers to each one of them. ‘’you’re fast and probably have better sight or hearing. You, on the other hand, are the smart one.’’ The jedi refers to Tech, who is clearly and unashamedly the brains of the squad. Those glasses and the datapad he constantly checks? A walking stereotype. He nods in agreement, tho, while Hunter tries to roll his eyes without being noticed. And miserably fails, but she doesn’t pay attention to it. ‘’You’re the strong one, and you’re the sniper.’’ And she’s sure she doesn’t need to point out why, how, she knows that; the target tattoo around his eye blatantly giving him away.
"Wait, you're a Jedi?" Wrecker, the burliest of the group and seemingly the cute, dumb one, asks with a hint of disbelief as he eyes her hair and attire. She quickly realizes that her dark and tactical outfit—cargo pants, military boots, a snug top with protective padding on her shoulders and a tight vest—doesn't exactly scream "Jedi." But she's always been more comfortable on the front lines than behind the clones she commands, and a robe would just get in the way during a fight. Obi-Wan's still not happy about that.
"Yeah, last time I checked," she replies with a smile, his enthusiasm infectious as she meets Wrecker's gaze. His expression widens, as happy and excited as a kid in a candy store.
"Isn't that awesome, Sergeant? We're gonna see some of those Force tricks up close," Wrecker adds eagerly, nudging his fellow clone.
"Yeah, awesome," Hunter mutters, seemingly uninterested in the conversation as he quickly changes the subject. What's his problem? "So, General, what kind of death trap are we heading into this time?"
"I'll fill you in on all the details on our way; the journey will be long," She answers, shrugging nonchalantly, her hands clasped behind her back.
"Then let's get going!" Wrecker exclaims again, and his whole squad follows him back to the shuttle after a quick farewell to Cody. (Y/N) can't help but notice the way the proclaimed sergeant's eyes lingered on her for just a couple seconds before turning away, wondering about the coldness she feels emanating from him towards her. If their paths had crossed on another mission, she would have remembered, and even so, she's always the life of the party on any mission! She might take offense if she wasn't used to not fitting in even among her own. At least, she tells herself as she exhales a soft sigh, he's attractive, so she'll deal with the mission and his shitty attitude by enjoying his pretty face as a reward for her outstanding patience.
"You're staring," Obi-Wan scolds her under his breath, witnessing their previous interaction, giving the younger Jedi a gentle elbow nudge.
"Being a Jedi means not getting attached, not gouging your eyes out and depriving yourself of good views," she responds without missing a beat, smiling charmingly at him. She's so cheeky, Obi-Wan thinks to himself, exactly like her old master, Kit Fisto.
"Ah, -I completely forgot-, wait!" The Jedi calls out to Clone Force 99, causing everyone to freeze and turn to look at her. "Before we go, you guys need to change your clothes."
The clones look at each other, confused. Wrecker is the first to speak up. "What’s wrong with our gear?"
She steps forward, arms crossed. "Nothing if you want to stick out like a rancor in a china shop. We're going undercover."
Hunter narrows his eyes slightly, not exactly liking what he just heard. "And what exactly do you suggest, General?"
She smirks, his reluctance kinda funny to her. "Something a bit less... militaristic. Follow me, I'll show you where you can get changed."
Wrecker shrugs, clearly unfazed. "As long as I don't have to wear a dress," he jokes, eliciting a low chuckle from Crosshair. ''those never have pockets, and I need to carry some grenades.''
Hunter, on the other hand, remains stoic, his gaze fixed on the jedi, his now general during this mission. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe even distrust—but he nods. "Lead the way."
And as they do as being told, Obi-Wan falls into step beside her. "You sure about this?"
She nods, her expression determined. "Absolutely, what could go wrong?"
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tikosblogg · 8 days ago
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SAVE ME
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Summary: you and JJ finally come forward with your feelings for each other.
Warning: SMUT. Unprotected piv.
A/N: I’m a whore for JJ Maybank. Sorry if it’s shit, and sorry for the abrupt ending it’s really late 🥲🫶🏻
The sun had just started its slow descent behind the horizon, casting a golden glow over the Outer Banks. It was picturesque—a scene straight out of a postcard—yet everything around me felt like it was unraveling. I had just left the town council meeting when chaos erupted. My one of my best friends JJ Maybank was at his absolute worst.
I had to get to him before the police did. It took all but 5 minutes to spot him in town. He was the embodiment of the wild spirit that thrived in all of us pogues; blonde hair tousled and eyes glimmering with a mix of fury and reckless defiance. With every swing of that wooden baseball bat, the glass shattered, sending echoes through the quiet streets. My heart raced not just with fear for him but with a sadness. There was something exhilarating about JJ—his antics, his bravery, his reckless abandonment. But this, this wasn’t the JJ I knew; this was a version engulfed in rage and despair.
"JJ!" I shouted, my voice slicing through the sound of breaking glass. He whipped around, breath ragged, eyes blazing like a stormy ocean.
"What are you doing here? You need to get out of here!" he yelled, his voice laced with anger, confusion, and something else I couldn’t quite place.
Before I could respond, the wailing call of police sirens echoed through the air. My gut instinct kicked in. “Just come with me!” I yelled, desperately grabbing his hand, pulling him into motion before he could protest. For a fleeting moment, I felt the warmth of his skin against mine, electrifying and terrifying. In his eyes, I saw both anger and fear; it was as if he feared losing control even more than he feared getting caught.
He didn’t resist as I dragged him into my car; his defiance had been stripped away by the overwhelming reality of our situation. I slammed the gas and the tires screeched in protest, sending us careening down familiar backroads toward the safety of my parents' house. The ride was thick with an unsaid tension.
JJ sat in the passenger seat, his knuckles white from gripping the edge of my seat, his breath still heavy. I could feel frustration radiating off him in waves. It was a mixture of fury, shame, and confusion. He was a storm of emotion. The silence stretched between us, punctuated only by the thrum of the engine and the incessant clicking of the turn signal. Minutes felt like hours as I replayed what had just happened in my head. If I were honest, a part of me found my heart racing not just from the chaos, but from being this close to him—out of everything that revolved around JJ, I was just glad he was alive.
I finally pulled up outside my house “What are we doing?” he finally broke the silence, his voice calmer now but still laced with that simmering anger.
“You’re hiding out here. This is where you’re safe,” I answered, my voice firm, tinged with an emotion I barely understood myself.
His brows furrowed, confusion and disbelief etched across his handsome face. “I can’t! I don’t want to bring you down with me.”
My heart dropped at those words. I could feel my cheeks heat as I met his fiery blue eyes. “JJ, I don’t care about any of that. You’re my friend. More than that, I—”
I stopped myself. I was teetering on the edge of a precipice, ready to reveal the truth I had kept locked away for far too long. But the moment was interrupted as the sirens grew louder, closing in like a noose. He inhaled sharply, his eyes darting toward the sound.
“Come on,” I said, pushing him out of the car. “You promised me you’d be there for me. Just let me be there for you tonight.”
Reluctantly, he followed me inside. I could feel the weight of his silence, a storm brewing behind the facade of bravado he usually wore so confidently. The moment we stepped into my small living room, the atmosphere shifted; the events outside were deafening thoughts drowning in a hazy mix of adrenaline and concern.
I motioned for him to sit, needing to breathe, needing a moment to collect myself before diving into whatever was brewing in JJ's chaotic mind. He sat on the old couch, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, wrestling with the weight of his decisions.
“Why do you care so much?” he finally asked, looking up at me with a mix of gratitude and despair. “I mean, I’m just... a mess.”
“I care because you’re not just a mess, JJ.” My voice softened, and I found the courage to let my feelings spill out. “You’re so much more than that. You protect everyone, always putting your friends first. You’re fiercely loyal. You have a heart of gold buried under all the chaos.”
His eyes searched mine, vulnerability shining through the cracks of his facade. I felt the air thicken with tension as the moment hung between us, ripe with unsaid words.
“Y/N,” he began, his voice wavering. “I don’t know how to navigate this... all of this. I’m used to running away.”
“Then don’t.” I stepped closer, a surge of determination coursing through me. “Stay. Just tonight. Let me help you figure this out.”
For the first time, a flicker of something softer crossed his features. Under all his anger and bravado, there was the boy I had admired from a distance, the one I secretly loved—the one who needed help.
JJ took a deep breath, exhaling slowly like he was releasing the weight of the world. “Alright, but only for tonight. I can’t get you or the others mixed up in all of this.”
“That’s my decision to make. I wanna help you,” I said, my heart racing at the sincerity in his eyes. I led him up the creaky wooden stairs to my bedroom, my heart racing.
JJ sat on the edge of the bed, His hands had sustained multiple small cuts from all the shattered glass. I wanted to tend to those wounds.
I walked into the adjoining bathroom, the floorboards creaking under my bare feet. I ran the faucet, filling a small basin with warm water, and grabbed a soft washcloth. As I walked back to him, I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes.
Kneeling in front of him, I positioned myself between his thighs, feeling his warmth radiate towards me. His scent, a mix of the ocean and something uniquely him, filled my senses, making my head spin. I gently took his hands in mine, examining the tiny cuts on his rough palms and fingers. I felt a rush of tenderness for this man who had endured so much.
As I dipped the washcloth into the warm water, JJ's eyes never left me. There was a silent understanding between us, a connection that went beyond words. I cleaned his hands carefully, wiping away the traces of blood and dirt, my touch gentle and soothing. I could feel his eyes burning into me, his gaze intense and full of unspoken words.
When I finished, I looked up at him, my eyes locking with his deep, blue ones. A small smile played on my lips as I saw the mixed emotions reflected in his eyes. Before I could say a word, he leaned down, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that took my breath away.
His kiss was hungry, demanding, and filled with pent-up feelings. I melted into it, my body responding instinctively to his. His lips were soft yet insistent, and I could taste the saltiness of his skin, mingled with the sweetness of mouth. After what felt like forever, he pulled away, his breath warm on my face.
His eyes sparkled with unshed tears. His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb gently brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. I held my breath, waiting, wanting, and needing to hear what he had to say.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse. Those three words sent a jolt through my body, igniting a fire in me. I felt my face flush, and my eyes widened in surprise and pure joy. The JJ Maybank just said he loved me.
Overwhelmed with my own emotions, I leaned forward, capturing his lips again. This time, I took control, pouring all my love and emotions into the kiss. I tasted the salt of his tears as they spilled onto my lips, and it only fueled me further. Our tongues danced, exploring and claiming.
Breaking away, we both struggled to catch our breath. I looked into his eyes, my own now brimming with tears. "I love you too," I whispered, my voice trembling. His smile, so beautiful, lit up his entire face.
With a gentle tug, he pulled me to straddle his lap. I could feel his dick pressing against me, as I starting against it. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. He pushed my dress up to my hips, and he untied my bathing suit bottoms.
He tossed them to the floor, before kissing me again, nipping my bottom lip in the process. I whined against his lips, as he guided my hips back and forth over him. He shoved his face back into my neck. "Ride me, baby," he whispered, his voice gravelly with need.
I wasted no time, unbuttoning his pants, and pulling him out. I almost groaned at the sight of him. I positioned myself, taking him in slowly, feeling every inch of his thick length filling me. I gasped as he stretched me, a delicious pain mixing with the overwhelming pleasure. His hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements as I began to ride him, my body moving in a slow rhythm.
"That's it, baby." he groaned, his hands squeezing my hips roughly. "You feel so fucking good." His words spurred me on, and I picked up the pace. He reached out, pulling my dress completely off. He all but ripped my swimsuit top off eyeing my breasts as they bounced with each thrust. I leaned forward, my hands braced on his shoulders, as I took him deeper, riding him faster.
His hands roamed my body, cupping my breasts, pinching my nipples, and leaving a trail of fire on my skin. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his voice rough and breathless. "My sweet, sweet girl." His praise only fueled my confidence, and I rode him harder, desperate to please him, to show him how much I loved him.
As my orgasm built, he suddenly flipped me onto my stomach, his strong arms easily maneuvering my small frame. I gasped, my face pressed into the soft pillow, my ass in the air, offering myself to him. He positioned himself behind me, his hard length sliding between my wet folds, seeking entry.
With one powerful thrust, he filled me from behind, claiming me, making me his. I cried out, my voice muffled by the pillow, as he pounded into me, his hips slamming against my ass. "You like that, huh?" he grunted, his hands gripping my hips tightly. "You love my cock inside you don't you?"
His words, so raw and filthy, only heightened my pleasure. I pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, our bodies slapping together in a primal rhythm. I could feel my orgasm building, a coiling tension in my core, ready to explode.
"Cum for me, mama," JJ groaned, his voice hoarse. "Let me feel that sweet pussy cum around my dick." His filthy words pushed me over the edge, and I came undone, my body shaking as waves of pleasure rippled through me. I cried out, my release intense and satisfying, my pussy pulsating around his throbbing cock.
JJ continued to thrust, his own release building. He pulled out suddenly, his hands gripping my hips, and flipped me onto my back. His eyes, wild with desire, took in my wanton display, my body still quivering from my orgasm. He spread my legs wide, exposing my glistening pussy, and dove down, his tongue replacing his cock.
His mouth devoured me, his tongue lapping at my sensitive flesh, sending me spiraling into another climax. "Good girl," he murmured against my throbbing clit, his breath hot and moist. "One more baby." His skilled tongue and fingers brought me to the brink once more, and I cried out, my body arching off the bed as I surrendered to the pleasure.
He rose above me, his cock glistening with my wetness, and positioned himself at my entrance. With one smooth thrust, he slid back inside, filling me completely. He began to move, his pace slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. "I love you, Y/N," he panted, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so fucking much."
His words, spoken between ragged breaths, sent a new wave of desire coursing through me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on.
As his orgasm built, our movements became more frantic, our breaths coming in short gasps. "Cum with me, baby," I pleaded, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, JJ, I need you."
His eyes rolled back as he thrust into me one final time, his body tensing, and he exploded inside me, his hot seed filling me. I came again, my pussy milking him.
Exhausted and fulfilled, we collapsed in a heap, our bodies still intertwined. JJ's heavy frame pressed me into the soft mattress, his heart pounding against my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair, my lips finding his in a soft, tender kiss.
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storyscribeforthesentiment · 3 months ago
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the detective & the dark knight | chapter 5
Summary: Detective Marie Manning, investigating a series of brutal murders in Gotham, crosses paths with the mysterious Batman. As they work together, their mutual respect turns into a deep, passionate bond. Amidst danger and corruption, their unlikely partnership evolves into a profound love, forever changing their lives in Gotham’s dark corners.
Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!main character
Author’s note: Enjoy lots of good ole’ fluff + emo Bruce falling head over heels for Marie.
Word count: 4.1k
Warnings/tags: mentions of gun violence, police bribes, fighting
Chapter List
The Gotham skyline stretched out like a sprawling maze of steel and shadows. Batman stood on a rooftop, his cape flowing in the crisp night air, his gaze fixed on the city below. The search for leads on the Red Lotus case had turned cold, leaving him restless. The recent confrontation with Marie had left an awkward tension between them that they hadn’t addressed.
Marie, meanwhile, stood beside the bat-signal, her breath misting in the chill as she stared at the beacon’s light. Despite their recent clash, she knew she needed Batman tonight. Her shift in focus had led her to a new line of inquiry, and the Iceberg Lounge was the epicenter of tonight's investigation.
It was a seedy place, notorious for its dangerous clientele, and it was the kind of place that was unforgiving to anyone, let alone a cop. She had learned her lesson from her previous misadventure, and she wasn't about to walk into another trap unprepared.
A shadow detached itself from the darkness and landed beside her. Batman’s imposing figure was outlined against the city lights as he approached. Marie turned to him, trying to hide the nerves she felt.
“Thanks for coming,” Marie said, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a flicker of apprehension. “I’m heading into the Iceberg Lounge. I’m looking for Oswald Cobblepot. This place isn’t exactly friendly to cops, so I could use some backup.”
Batman’s gaze, obscured by the cowl, bore into her with a mix of curiosity and concern. “You need my help?”
Marie’s lips curved into a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, I’m hoping to avoid another lecture. Remember last time?”
A ghost of a smile touched Batman’s lips, a rare, almost imperceptible hint of amusement. “I’ll do my best to keep my comments to myself.”
Marie’s eyebrow arched, her tone light but tinged with underlying tension. “All business tonight, huh?”
Batman’s voice was a low, rumbling growl. “If it means keeping you safe, then yes.”
Marie’s gaze softened, her eyes lingering on him as he stood next to the bat-signal. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Let’s hope tonight doesn’t turn into another mess.”
Batman nodded, his expression unreadable. “I’ll find a spot near the building to keep an eye on you. Use the earpiece if you need anything.” He said, tossing her a small piece of hardware.
With that, Batman melded back into the shadows, his form disappearing as he moved swiftly and silently across the rooftops. Marie watched him go, feeling the weight of their recent tension but also a flicker of reassurance.
Marie turned and made her way down the stairwell to the street. The chill of the night air hit her as she emerged, and she headed towards the Iceberg Lounge. The nightclub’s entrance loomed ahead, its heavy, ornate doors hinting at the chaos within.
As she approached, Marie’s attention was drawn to a group of shady figures lurking near the alleyway. Their eyes followed her with an unsettling intensity. Marie’s hand instinctively reached for her weapon as she passed the entrance.
"Be careful, looks like you're not alone out there." Batman's voice rang through the earpiece. Marie looked out into the darkness of the night, briefly nodding in response.
Inside, the Iceberg Lounge was a labyrinth of dim lighting and smoky haze. Marie’s gaze swept over the crowd, searching for Cobblepot. The music was loud, and the atmosphere was tense, with patrons watching her every move.
Marie finally spotted Oswald Cobblepot in a private booth, engaged in a heated conversation with two men. She approached cautiously, her heart pounding with a blend of anticipation and apprehension.
“Mr. Cobblepot,” she said loudly over the music, “I’m Detective Marie Manning. I need to speak with you about some recent investigations.”
Cobblepot looked up, his beady eyes assessing her with disdain. “A cop, huh? You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve showing up here.”
Marie’s tone was resolute. “I’m here for information. I know you’ve got answers about Falcone. This isn’t a negotiation.”
Cobblepot’s sneer widened, but he motioned for her to come closer. “Fine. Let’s talk. But not here. Too many ears.”
Marie followed Oswald Cobblepot to a more secluded area of the Iceberg Lounge, noticing his walk that looked more like a waddle. The dimly lit corner offered a modicum of privacy, though the lounge’s usual raucous atmosphere still hummed in the background. Marie cast a wary glance around, then focused on Cobblepot.
“Mr. Cobblepot,” she began, her tone firm yet measured, “I need to talk to you about the Red Lotus murders. I believe you might have some information that could help with the investigation.”
Cobblepot's lips curled into a smirk as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing with interest. “The Red Lotus, huh? That’s quite a mess. You think I’d be involved in something like that?”
Marie’s gaze was steady. “I’m not accusing you. I just need to know if you’ve heard anything—anything at all—that could point me in the right direction.”
Cobblepot chuckled darkly, his fingers drumming on the table. “Well, since you’re asking so nicely... I have heard whispers. There’s a certain element in Gotham that’s been trying to leverage the chaos caused by the Red Lotus murders. Some say they’re using it to cover their tracks or settle old scores.”
Marie’s eyes sharpened. “Who are they?”
Cobblepot leaned in, lowering his voice. “The whispers mention someone who’s been moving in and out of the city’s underbelly. They say this person has connections with some very powerful players. But who exactly? That’s the million-dollar question. I might be able to dig up more details if you’re willing to scratch my back a bit.”
Before Marie could respond, a loud crash erupted from the entrance of the lounge. The front door flew open, and a group of masked men burst in, their weapons gleaming under the neon lights. The patrons screamed and scrambled for cover, the room erupting into chaos.
Marie instinctively reached for her weapon, her heart racing as she took in the situation. Cobblepot’s face went pale, and he ducked behind the table, clearly terrified.
“Batman,” Marie said into her earpiece, her voice tight with urgency. “We’ve got an armed group attacking the lounge.”
Batman’s voice crackled through the earpiece, calm and commanding. “On my way. Stay safe and get out if it gets too dangerous.”
Marie quickly assessed the scene. The masked men were advancing with purpose, brandishing weapons and shouting orders. They seemed intent on clearing out the space.
She fought her way towards the nearest masked attacker, her movements precise and practiced. Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of the situation. The lounge was a storm of flying debris, shouting patrons, and the smell of smoke.
Amidst the chaos, Batman made his dramatic entrance, his silhouette cutting through the melee with a swift, imposing presence. He immediately began to neutralize the attackers, his actions synchronized with Marie’s as they worked together to fend off the masked men.
“Stay back,” Batman growled as he shielded Marie from an incoming attack, his eyes darting between her and an oncoming masked attacker. 
Relying on her kickboxing skills, Marie managed to subdue one of the attackers. She glanced at Batman, who was now dispatching the last of the intruders. Cobblepot had vanished, his opportunity to escape amidst the chaos.
With the immediate threat dealt with, Batman turned to Marie, his voice laced with concern. “Are you alright?” His eyes scanned her up and down, looking for injuries.
Marie, breathing heavily, nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. But Cobblepot got away.”
“Then what are we waiting here for?” Batman asked, turning quickly and heading out the back of the club. Marie followed. 
Marie and Batman emerged from the Iceberg Lounge, their breath misting in the chilly night air. They scoured the nearby alley.
“Dammit, he’s gone,” Marie muttered, frustration evident in her voice. She scanned the long alley, but it was empty. “He’s slippery as hell.”
Batman’s gaze was intense, his voice low but firm. “He’s got to be hiding somewhere nearby. He’s not going to risk crossing Falcone.”
Marie sighed, rubbing her temples. “I bet he set up that raid to get rid of me.”
Batman glanced at her, his expression unreadable behind the mask. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Marie nodded, trying to keep her frustration in check. “So what now? Do we just wait around hoping he shows up?”
Batman’s jaw tightened. “There’s a good chance he’s got a hideout or safehouse nearby. Knowing Cobblepot, he won’t be able to stay out of trouble for long.”
Marie leaned against the wall, shaking her head. “I don’t want this case dragging on forever. There haven’t been any new murders recently, which means the case is that much closer to going cold.”
Batman stepped closer, his voice softening slightly. “I know. We’ll figure this out. Cobblepot’s not the only player in this game, but he’s a start.”
Marie looked at him, a mix of gratitude and exhaustion in her eyes. “Thanks. I appreciate you sticking by me tonight, especially with everything that went down.”
Batman’s gaze was steady, his voice a low rumble. “Seems like you learned your lesson from last time." He hesitated, then added quietly, almost to himself, “You’ve made the nights a bit more bearable.”
Marie hesitated, then asked, “You think we’ll still be working together after the Red Lotus case is over? I’ve gotten used to having you around.”
His voice was gentle. “I’d like that”
Marie managed a small smile, her tone light. “Alright, let’s head out. I’ve got a date later, and I refuse to be late.”
Batman’s eyes met hers, “A date?”
Marie raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “Is it really that surprising that someone wants to date me?”
Batman’s expression shifted back to its usual intensity. "No, just didn't expect it."
Marie shrugged playfully as she started walking towards the precinct. “Well, I’m full of surprises.”
She called over her shoulder, “I’ll bat-signal you if I need you.”
When she looked back, Batman had already vanished into the shadows, leaving the alley empty and silent.
—-------------------------------
Later that evening, Bruce Wayne and Marie enjoyed a quiet dinner at an upscale restaurant. The soft lighting and soothing music created a serene atmosphere, a welcome change from their usual intense interactions.
Marie and Bruce had been on several dates recently, each one drawing them closer. Tonight, they were relaxed and at ease, their conversation flowing effortlessly.
Marie leaned in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You wouldn’t believe the run-in I had with Oswald Cobblepot tonight,” she began, her tone animated. “It was something straight out of a crime novel.”
Bruce’s interest was immediately piqued. “Really? I’ve heard he’s quite the character."
Marie's expression became one of amused disbelief. “Oh, he’s every bit as eccentric as they say. I approached him about the Red Lotus case, and he was waddling around like a penguin—no joke. The resemblance is uncanny.”
Bruce leaned in, clearly captivated, even though he’d already known what happened. “And what did he do?”
Marie grinned, clearly enjoying recounting the encounter. “At first, he was all about playing it cool, acting like he was just a regular businessman. But the moment I mentioned the Red Lotus, his demeanor shifted. He got this calculating look in his eye. It was like he was deciding how much he could get away with telling me.”
Bruce’s eyes widened with curiosity. “What did he say?”
Marie’s smile widened as she remembered. “He dropped hints like he had some crucial info but played it super coy. It was like he was getting off on the power trip of making me chase him. Frustrating as hell, but kinda fascinating, too.”
Bruce nodded, clearly engrossed. “Sounds like a challenging encounter. I’m sure dealing with someone like Cobblepot requires a unique set of skills.”
“It does. Every day’s a new battle, but I love it. There’s something addictive about putting the pieces together and outsmarting the criminals.” Marie responded. I know exactly what you mean, Bruce thought.
Marie continued, her eyes meeting his. “It’s nice to be able to laugh about it now. I’m really glad we can unwind like this.”
Bruce’s gaze softened, a look of genuine admiration in his eyes. “I really am. It’s great to have a break from the noise and just enjoy a night out.”
As the evening went on, they chatted about everything, from old college memories to recent news, their laughter mixing with the gentle background music. It felt easy and natural, a welcome change from their usual high-stress interactions.
As they finished up their dinner, Bruce gave Marie a playful grin. “So, how about I show you around Wayne Manor?” he suggested. “Don’t worry, no fancy galas or over-the-top millionaires this time. Just me—if you can put up with me for a few more hours.”
“I’d love that.” Marie smiled.
The drive to Wayne Manor was peaceful, the city lights casting a soft glow on the darkened streets. When they arrived at the manor, Bruce led her inside, his demeanor gentle and inviting.
“This place,” Marie said, looking around at the grandeur of Wayne Manor, “it’s even more breathtaking when it’s empty. There’s something calming about it.”
Bruce nodded, his eyes reflecting a touch of nostalgia. “This place has always been a sanctuary for me,” he said softly. “As a child, it was alive with laughter and energy. Now it’s quieter, but it still holds so many memories.”
“Feel free to look around,” he added, though his mind was already drifting to the Batcave below, where he needed to check in to make sure Gotham was calm for the night.
"I'll be right back." Bruce said, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.
Marie moved through the rooms, her steps light and curious. She admired the grand architecture and the space, but one room particularly captivated her: a sitting room with floor-to-ceiling windows and oversized paintings. She stopped in front of a portrait of Bruce’s parents, their faces warm and kind. Bruce looked so much like his father.
As she stood there, lost in thought and unsure how much time had passed, she suddenly felt Bruce’s presence behind her. His hand gently caressed her lower back.
“They were lovely,” Marie said softly.
“They were,” Bruce replied, his voice low, “I think about them often.”
They stood together in a comfortable silence. After a moment, she spoke again. “You know, I love what I do because it’s a way to make a difference—so others don’t have to go through what we did as kids.”
Bruce took a moment before responding, his gaze softening. “I’m impressed by that. It’s rare to find someone who gets it the way you do.”
Marie looked up, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “You really think so?”
Bruce returned her smile, his eyes warm. “Definitely. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.”
As they stood in front of the painting, Marie leaned her head against Bruce’s chest, feeling a deep sense of contentment. The mansion’s tranquil atmosphere was a stark contrast to the bustling, noisy world they had navigated earlier.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” Bruce murmured against her ear, his voice soft and sincere.
Marie lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes filled with warmth. “Me too. This place is incredible.”
He gently cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly against her cheeks. Marie’s breath caught in her throat, and before she could react, Bruce’s lips met hers in a tender, exploratory kiss. It was a soft, lingering touch that spoke volumes.
Marie responded instinctively, her hands reaching up to rest on Bruce’s shoulders. The kiss deepened, growing more passionate as the heat of their emotions took over. Bruce’s arms encircled her, pulling her closer. The outside world vanished, leaving just the two of them in this perfect, heated moment.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their faces flushed with the intensity of their emotions. Bruce’s eyes were filled with a mix of relief and longing. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he admitted quietly.
Marie’s smile was radiant, her eyes reflecting a sense of joy and surprise. “I’m happy you did.”
Bruce chuckled softly, his gaze filled with affection.
Marie spoke up, “So, what’s next? Do we just stand here or...?”
Bruce’s face lit up with a mischievous grin. “How about some ice cream? I’ve got a tub waiting in the kitchen.”
Marie’s eyes widened in playful excitement. “Ice cream sounds perfect.”
Grabbing her hand, Bruce excitedly led her to the large kitchen, where he retrieved a tub of ice cream from the freezer and grabbed two spoons. Marie perched herself on the counter, her legs swinging slightly as they dug into the ice cream.
Marie looked at him with a playful grin. “You know, I can practically feel this ice cream going straight to my hips.”
Bruce chuckled, leaning on his elbows over the counter beside her. “Your hips are magnificent.”
Marie laughed, playfully nudging him. “You’re just trying to flatter me to distract me from the extra calories.”
Bruce couldn’t help himself. He leaned in, his lips grazing hers in a tender kiss. Marie melted into the touch, the lingering sweetness of the ice cream mingling with the warmth of their embrace.
Their kisses grew deeper and more passionate, a perfect reflection of the emotions that had been building between them. Bruce’s hands gently traced the contours of Marie’s back, their connection intensifying as they lost themselves in each other. The ice cream tub sat forgotten, and began to melt as their attention shifted entirely to each other.
Just then, a soft rustling sound from outside the room interrupted their moment. Bruce’s eyes widened with a mix of surprise and amusement. He pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against Marie’s ear as he whispered with a playful grin, “That’s Alfred. My butler.”
Marie’s eyes widened in surprise, and she bit back a giggle. “Should we, um, move...?”
Before she could finish, the door to the kitchen creaked open. Alfred’s voice, filled with curiosity and mild surprise, floated into the room. “Master Bruce, I was just checking if you needed anything—oh!”
Alfred’s voice trailed off as he took in the sight before him: Bruce and Marie, entangled in each other’s arms with remnants of their ice cream adventure scattered around.
Bruce and Marie exchanged a sheepish glance. Bruce held up his ice cream spoon in a mock salute. “Just enjoying some late-night ice cream. Nothing to see here.”
Alfred’s expression softened into a knowing smile. “Ah, I see. Well, I hope you both are having a good time.”
Bruce turned to Marie, an affectionate smile on his face. “Alfred, this is my, uh, Marie,” he said, his tone uneven as he considered how to introduce her.
Alfred bowed his head slightly. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Marie. I trust the ice cream is to your liking?”
“It’s delicious, Alfred, thank you,” Marie smiled.
As Alfred’s footsteps receded, Bruce turned back to Marie, his face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and affection. “Well, that was a bit of an interruption,” he said with a chuckle.
Marie’s cheeks flushed as she buried her head into Bruce’s chest.
Bruce’s smile widened as he rubbed his hand over her hair. “I promise there won’t be any more surprises.”
—-------------------------------
Marie was half-asleep in Bruce’s expansive, beautifully decorated living room. They were nestled on the grand sectional in front of the crackling fireplace, the warmth from the flames creating a cozy cocoon around them. Bruce’s strong arms were wrapped around her, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath her ear.
After hours of talking—sharing stories of their childhoods, their aspirations, and their fears—Marie’s voice was soft and drowsy. “Can I tell you something about my job that I’m not supposed to tell anyone?”
Bruce’s gaze was gentle as he looked down at her. “Of course.”
Marie shifted slightly, her head resting comfortably on his chest. “If I tell you this, you have to promise to keep it a secret. I haven’t shared it with anyone before.”
Bruce’s fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. The warmth of his hand against her cheek could have sent her to sleep right then. “You can trust me.”
Marie took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “Are you familiar with the Batman?”
A pang of guilt twisted in Bruce’s chest. He was acutely aware of the deception—the fact that he had been keeping his dual identity a secret from her while she was currently opening up about her partnership with his alter ego. It felt like an unfair imbalance.
“Bruce?” Marie’s voice brought him back to the moment.
“Sorry, yes, I’m familiar. The guy in the—what is it—leather who beats up bad guys?” He tried to keep his tone light, but his mind was racing.
Marie chuckled softly. “It’s not leather. It’s Kevlar.” She paused, then added with a touch of excitement, “I’ve been working with him for the past few months. Remember that murder case I told you about? He’s been helping me with it. We work together almost every night.”
Marie’s voice was barely a whisper as she fought to stay awake. “He has access to all these resources—more than I can even guess. We don’t talk much about anything personal, just the case. He has all these gadgets that give him direct access to police logs, 911 calls... the whole deal.”
She paused, struggling to stay conscious. “I can tell he cares about me, even if he’s not great at showing it. He really doesn’t want me to get hurt. Honestly, he’s been the best part of my job. He makes a difference in this city.” The final part of her sentence came out with a yawn.
Bruce’s heart ached with the weight of his unspoken truth. He was on the edge of revealing everything—the burden of keeping his secret, the tangled emotions he felt for her—but he hesitated. As Marie’s breathing grew deeper, her head resting more heavily against his chest, Bruce struggled with the internal conflict of wanting to be honest with her yet fearing the consequences.
His gaze softened as he looked down at her peaceful face. As he gently ran his fingers through her hair, he longed to share the truth, to lift the weight from his shoulders. But the moment felt too delicate, too perfect to risk shattering. The words remained lodged in his throat, unspoken and heavy.
Marie’s soft, even breaths were the only sound now, and Bruce found solace in the simple intimacy of the moment. With a heavy heart, he decided against confessing, choosing instead to hold her close and savor the comfort of her presence. He resolved to carry the burden a little longer, hoping that one day he’d find the right moment to reveal the truth.
The night wore on in quiet companionship, the warmth of the fire and Marie’s presence offering a brief respite from the tangled web of secrets and emotions that Bruce grappled with.
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movingmusically · 2 months ago
Text
Caught Feeling - Chapter 5
Synopsis:
Thrown into the wild energy of Hank’s world, Y/N meets his friends at a party that quickly escalates into chaos. Between the drinks, music, and non-stop laughter, she’s caught up in the madness, but as the night spirals further, doubts start to creep in. A revealing conversation about Hank’s past leaves her questioning how much she truly knows him.
Author’s Note:
Borrowed a bit straight from the book for this chapter.
Word Count: 8,312
Masterlist
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A couple of weeks had passed since that night with Jason, and somehow, things between Hank and me had settled into an easy rhythm. We hadn’t had “the talk” yet about what exactly this was, but it didn’t feel necessary—not yet. Everything just… flowed. There were no awkward pauses, no weird moments of uncertainty. It felt right, like we were finding our way together without even trying.
The ease with which I’d opened up to Hank was startling. Typically, I was guarded, my mind a relentless machine that overanalysed every word, every silence in my relationships. But with Hank, it was different. There was an effortless connection that bypassed all my usual defences. Conversations with him were refreshingly simple yet deep, free from the usual constraints I imposed on myself. Each shared laugh and silent moment spent in his company seemed to chip away at the walls I’d meticulously constructed over the years.
The physical attraction between us was undeniable and electric, adding a palpable intensity to our simplest interactions. His casual touch sparked a warmth that lingered, his smile a visual caress that never failed to quicken my pulse. There was an undeniable magnetism that drew me to him, a gravitational pull that was as instinctive as it was profound. Our spontaneous meetings, whether a quick coffee between shifts or a late-night walk through the quiet city streets, became the highlights of my days. These weren’t just breaks in our routines; they were real, happy moments where laughter was just as easy as breathing. The comfortable pattern we settled into was both exciting and reassuring, making every day brighter and smoothing over the edges of any rough nights.
As the last leaves fell, blanketing the city in a crisp, frosty embrace, our schedules remained hectic, but we continued to steal moments whenever we could. Tonight was one of those nights.
Hank had arranged for us to meet up at Paul’s to celebrate his colleague and friend, Lisa’s birthday. The plan was to dive into a night of revelry, surrounded by all of his close friends. Despite my growing excitement, a familiar twinge of anxiety crept up on me as we approached the bustling bar. The idea of meeting Hank’s friends for the first time—a group known for their boisterous and bold personalities—filled me with a mix of anticipation and apprehension.
As we stepped into the bar, the atmosphere hit us with an electrifying charge. Laughter roared over the iconic riffs of Black Sabbath blasting from the jukebox, and the tangy scent of spilled beer mingled with the smoky air, oddly comforting in its familiarity.
Hank, feeling my hand tighten around his, leaned closer and whispered with reassuring warmth against my ear, “Just be yourself, they’ll love you.” His confidence was soothing, though my stomach knotted with nerves.
We made our way through the crowd, Hank nodding and exchanging quick, boisterous greetings with nearly everyone we passed. The energy in the room was magnetic, each laugh and shout weaving a tapestry of camaraderie and wild celebration.
As we reached the heart of the party, Lisa towered over the crowd, her presence as commanding as her height. With her broad, welcoming smile, she enveloped Hank in a hearty embrace before turning her attention to me. “So you’re the famous Y/N!” her voice boomed, filled with warmth. “Hank hasn’t shut up about you.”
Her directness, tinged with genuine kindness, eased some of my nervousness. I managed a smile, encouraged by Hank’s reassuring nod. “Happy birthday, Lisa,” I said, my voice nearly lost in the music.
“Thanks, babe!” Lisa beamed, then shouted over her shoulder, “Edwin, get Y/N a drink! Something special!”
Edwin, the owner of the bar and a man whose robust frame was only outmatched by his booming laugh, waved from behind the bar. His arms, covered in an intricate tapestry of tattoos and scars, worked deftly as he prepared a concoction that seemed to glow with the promise of instant inebriation.
As Hank and I took our seats at a crowded table, the conversation around us flowed effortlessly—a vibrant tapestry of stories and jokes that everyone but me seemed to weave with ease. I felt like an observer on the outskirts of a lively scene, struggling to find a way to blend in.
Hank, perceptive as ever, squeezed my hand under the table. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and laden with concern.
“Yeah, just taking it all in,” I lied, squeezing his hand back. My eyes scanned the room, the relentless beat of the music vibrating through the air, mingling with the laughter and shouts of the bar’s patrons.
I remained mostly silent, sipping the strong drink that Edwin had crafted, its warmth spreading through me. I laughed when it seemed appropriate and nodded along to the stories being shared, but inside, my shyness felt more like a barrier than ever—a wall between me and the world of Hank’s friends.
I fidgeted with the rim of my glass, silently debating whether to indulge in another sip. The bar was alive with chatter and the clink of glasses, the kind of lively background that could either invigorate or intimidate.
As I pondered, the bar’s energy surged as someone called for a round of shots to celebrate Lisa’s birthday. The offer came at just the right moment, breaking through my reservations. Edwin, with his characteristic broad smile, lined up an array of shot glasses and began pouring a vibrant, amber liquid that caught the light with each tilt of the bottle.
Before I knew it, a shot was placed in front of me, its strong, oaky scent mingling with the smoky atmosphere. The spontaneous cheer from the group was contagious, and without much thought, I found myself lifting the glass in a toast. The shot was smooth but fiery, warming me from the inside out, accelerating the buzz I was already feeling. The liquid courage seemed to dissolve some of the barriers I’d erected around myself, the warmth spreading through my limbs, loosening my inhibitions.
With each sip and each shot, the laughter and music around me began to infuse into my own mood, seeping through the cracks of my anxiety. Hank’s hand rested reassuringly on my back, his touch a constant in the swirl of the party. Encouraged by his presence, I allowed myself to relax further, the initial sharp edges of my nervousness blurring into something more mellow.
“Let’s dive in,” Hank suggested with a grin, noticing my eased expression. He guided me deeper into the group, right into the heart of the laughter and raucous storytelling. The circle of his friends opened to welcome us, their faces alight with the joy of shared stories and easy company.
Lisa, in the midst of recounting yet another unbelievable but hilarious encounter she had had, paused to include us. “And you won’t believe what happened next!” she exclaimed, her voice booming over the music. Everyone leaned in, and I found myself caught up in the excitement, my earlier reservations momentarily forgotten.
The group’s dynamic was infectious, and as the night progressed, I felt increasingly part of the fabric of the party. Hank’s friends were a mosaic of vibrant characters, each story they told more outlandish than the last, painting their lives in broad, exhilarating strokes. Hank kept me anchored, his occasional whispers explaining the backstories or adding his own dry commentary that sent spurts of laughter through me.
The combination of the lively atmosphere, the alcohol, and Hank’s warm presence gradually chipped away at my reserve. I found myself laughing more freely, the sound mingling with the others’ in a harmony that felt both exhilarating and deeply comforting. My contributions to the conversations grew bolder, encouraged by the accepting nods and the smiles that greeted my every word.
As the night deepened, the drinks flowed more freely, and with each round, the line between comfort and revelry blurred. Each toast, each shared laugh seemed to pull me further from my usual reserve and closer to the spirited heart of the party. The sense of liberation was heady, almost intoxicating in itself; it was reminiscent of my college days, where the nights were long and filled with spontaneous adventures.
The music changed to a familiar song, one that resonated with the wilder, carefree part of me that I’d tucked away after graduation. I felt a rush of nostalgia mixed with a surge of newfound confidence. The beat was infectious, a rhythmic pulse that seemed to echo the racing of my heart.
Hank, catching the shift in my energy, leaned in, his voice barely audible over the music. “You’re doing great,” he encouraged, his hand pressing gently against the small of my back. His touch, always so grounding, now felt like a spark, igniting a boldness I had almost forgotten I possessed.
The effects of the alcohol were undeniable. My thoughts were less filtered, my emotions riding the high of the party. It was a freeing feeling, one that made the room spin just a bit more pleasantly. Hank’s smile was a beacon in the swirling sea of faces, his presence a constant reassurance that no matter how dizzying the night got, he was there to keep me anchored.
“Let’s show them how it’s done,” Hank suggested with a mischievous grin after another round of shots made its way to our table. He stood, offering his hand with a flourish, and despite the butterflies that fluttered wildly in my stomach, I placed my hand in his, letting him pull me to the makeshift dance floor near the jukebox.
The dance floor was a blur of movement and light, but Hank’s presence was like a steady pulse, grounding yet electrifying. The bass thudded through the soles of my shoes as we found our rhythm among the other dancers. Hank’s movements were confident and carefree, a contrast to the self-consciousness that usually plagued me in such settings. Yet, as we moved together, my usual apprehension about dancing dissolved under his infectious enthusiasm.
Hank’s playful confidence shone brightly. He had his Giants cap turned backwards, a look that I adored on him. It gave him a boyish charm that was irresistibly attractive. While his T-shirt, sleeves pushed up to bunch around his shoulders, showcased his muscular biceps, toned from the years of workouts, boxing and self-defence classes he’d taken up after a scuffle at the bar, adding an undeniable physical allure to his every gesture. His grin was infectious as he pulled me closer, our bodies moving to the rhythm with a lively energy that mirrored the beat.
With each step and spin, Hank’s hands were confident on my hips, steering us through the crowd with an ease that made it seem like we were the only two on the dance floor. The physical connection was immediate and electrifying, his touch sending sparks of anticipation skittering across my skin. Each time he drew me in, our bodies aligned perfectly; his thigh occasionally pressing against mine, sending a jolt of excitement through me. His movements were bold, yet there was a tenderness in the way he ensured I kept up, always mindful, always caring.
The music, loud and infectious, seemed to fuel our movements, Hank’s body occasionally brushing against mine in a way that was both accidental and charged with intention. His smile, a little too knowing, suggested he was well aware of the effect he was having on me. The heat from his body, the subtle scent of his cologne mixed with the energy of the dance, created an intoxicating atmosphere that was hard to resist.
As the beat quickened, so did our steps, our movements becoming more playful and adventurous. Hank’s fingers tightened just enough to suggest more than just a dance, each touch lingering with a promise of something deeper. The crowd around us blurred into the background as we lost ourselves in the rhythm, the music dictating our movements, drawing us closer with each passing moment.
The energy between us grew palpable, our laughter mingling with the music, creating a shared moment of pure joy and connection. It was as if the music had tapped into something primal between us, a raw energy that was as exhilarating as it was profound. With each twirl and step, Hank led with a sureness that made me feel both cherished and desired, his gaze never straying far from mine, filled with an intensity that spoke volumes.
As the song neared its end, Hank spun me out and then back into his arms, his smile wide and triumphant, his eyes alight with something that looked a lot like victory. “See? You’re a natural,” he teased, his voice raised just enough to be heard over the music, his breath warm against my ear. Hank’s proximity, the feel of his body so close to mine, was overwhelming in the best way.
The thrum of excitement and the heat of the dance floor surged through me, my pulse racing in time with the pounding bass. I could feel the flush on my cheeks from both the alcohol and the exhilaration of moving so close to Hank. The room spun slightly, a dizzying blend of lights, laughter, and music, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be here with him, lost in the rhythm.
As the music transitioned seamlessly into another upbeat track, Hank’s grin widened. He leaned closer, his voice a mischievous whisper, “Having fun yet?” His eyes sparkled with delight, reflecting the vibrant lights that flickered across the dance floor.
I nodded, laughing breathlessly. “More than I thought possible,” I admitted, feeling a rush of daring. The festive atmosphere, combined with the potent mix of alcohol swirling through my system, emboldened me. It felt like a throwback to my college days—those nights of spontaneous decisions and carefree adventures.
Catching my somewhat wistful tone, Hank’s expression softened. “Then let’s not stop here,” he suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of challenge. Before I could respond, he spun me around once more, pulling me back against him in a smooth, fluid motion that felt almost choreographed.
The closeness was intoxicating. I could feel every line of his body against mine, his breath hot on my neck as we moved to the music. It was electrifying, the way our bodies synced so perfectly. The boundaries between us, always so tenuous, seemed to melt away with each beat of the song.
As the song reached its crescendo, the combination of the music, the alcohol, and Hank’s intoxicating presence overwhelmed me with a desire for more—more closeness, more of him. Glancing around and noticing that the others were absorbed in their own revelries, a bold idea took root.
Leaning in, I whispered into his ear, making sure only he could hear me over the music. “Let’s find somewhere a little more private,” I suggested, my voice low and inviting.
Hank’s response was a sharp intake of breath, a mix of surprise and anticipation. He searched my face for a moment, as if to gauge my seriousness, then nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Lead the way,” he murmured, his hand tightening around mine.
We excused ourselves from the dance floor with casual waves, trying to appear nonchalant as we made our way through the crowd. My heart pounded with a mix of nerves and excitement as we navigated the busy bar, Hank’s hand a steady presence in mine.
Finding the corridor that led to the bathrooms, we slipped inside, ensuring no one paid us too much attention. The hallway was dimly lit, the music muffled here, the throbbing bass a distant echo. Hank pressed me against the cool wall of the corridor, his eyes alight with mischief and desire. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down my spine.
“Yes,” I breathed, pulling him closer. The certainty in my voice surprised even me, but there was no room for doubt, not here, not with the way he looked at me.
With a grin, Hank opened the door to the unoccupied bathroom, pulling me inside. He locked the door behind us, and suddenly it was just us, the music a faint background to the new rhythm we were about to create.
In the confined space of the bathroom, the tension between us escalated rapidly, I pushed Hank back against the cold tile wall, and his eyes locked on me with a mixture of awe and anticipation. He reached out, his hands finding my hips, pulling me closer until I was pressed against him. His touch was electric, sparking a thrill that coursed through my veins.
Our lips met in a kiss that was both a continuation of the dance and a new conversation altogether. It was urgent, hungry, fuelled by the buildup of the night’s revelry and the alcohol that still tinged our breaths. Hank’s lips moved against mine with a fervour that mirrored the rhythmic pulse of the music still audible behind the walls. My fingers tangled in the hair below the brim of his cap, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with every breath.
As the kiss grew more fervent, my hands wandered down his chest, over the fabric of his T-shirt, feeling the solid warmth of his body underneath. My fingers traced the hem of his T-shirt, then moved to the waistband of his jeans, expertly flicking open the button with a practiced ease. The sound of the zipper was startlingly loud in the quiet of the bathroom.
Hank’s breath hitched slightly as my hand slipped inside his boxers, finding the warmth and urgency of him. I brushed my fingers against him, feeling him harden further at the touch. The soft moan that escaped his lips broke our kiss, a sound filled with need and encouragement. Hank’s hands gripped my shoulders, steadying himself as I began to explore more boldly, my fingers wrapped around him, firm yet gentle, stroking him with a rhythm that matched the fading beats of the music outside.
Seeing him so undone, so responsive to my touch, intensified the heat between us. I slowly sank to my knees, the cold tile beneath me a fleeting sensation as every ounce of my focus remained locked on him. His dark eyes met mine, wide with desire, his breath already uneven as if anticipating what was to come. That look alone sent a wave of heat coursing through me, amplifying the anticipation that buzzed between us.
As I took him into my mouth, the warmth of him against my tongue was met with a low, throaty groan, his head tipping back just slightly, lips parted in a silent exhale. His fingers threaded through my hair, gentle but firm, grounding me while allowing me full control. The subtle tension in his grip wasn’t to direct—it was more like he was anchoring himself, each touch connecting us in a raw, unspoken exchange.
My tongue moved with purpose, teasing and exploring, tracing the lines of him with slow, deliberate strokes. I could feel the soft tremors in his thighs as I varied the pace, each change rewarded by a deeper, more primal groan that reverberated between us. “God, that feels incredible,” Hank rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper as he looked down at me, eyes glazed with lust.
His reactions spurred me on. Each gasp, each shallow breath, the tightening of his grip in my hair—every small movement told me exactly where he wanted to be taken. My hand joined in, fingers wrapping around him in sync with my lips, amplifying the sensations as I worked a rhythm that drew him closer to the edge. His hips began to move, ever so slightly, the involuntary thrusts a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him. The low moans escaping him were like music, rough and raw, filling the small room with the sound of his unraveling.
Looking up, I caught his gaze again, silently asking for more than just his approval—asking for his surrender. His eyes, half-lidded and dark with desire, locked onto mine, and in that moment, I knew I had him. “Just like that,” he managed to say, the words dripping with need, his breath ragged as I continued, intensifying my efforts.
The texture of him, the weight of him, the way his body tensed beneath my touch—all of it fuelled the growing heat between us. His praises became a barely coherent litany, broken by sharp breaths and deep, guttural moans that urged me to keep going, to push him further.
His body was trembling now, muscles taut as a string pulled too tight, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he fought for control. But he was teetering on the edge, right where I wanted him. My hand moved in perfect sync with my mouth, each stroke a little more intense than the last, each flick of my tongue designed to push him over that final threshold.
“You’re… amazing,” he breathed out, his voice rough, almost disbelieving as his hands tightened in my hair, the words tumbling out in a rush of awe and pleasure. I felt the tension in his body coil tighter, his hips pushing forward, his chest heaving as he chased that final release. And when it hit him, it was with a force that seemed to shake him to his core—a deep, guttural sound tearing from his throat as his body tensed against the wall, rigid, as he spilled himself into my mouth.
I swallowed, taking in every shudder, every tremor, as I slowed my movements, easing him down from the peak. His groans quieted into soft, contented sighs, his fingers still gently tangled in my hair as if reluctant to let go. I lingered there, offering him the last bit of pleasure, a soothing rhythm as the aftershocks pulsed through him. His hand brushed my cheek, the touch feather-light and filled with unspoken gratitude.
His body still trembling slightly, Hank gently pulled back, fixing his clothes with hands that were noticeably unsteady. His touch lingered, tracing a line from my cheek down to my chin before pulling me up to my feet. For a moment, we stood there, the air still heavy with the intimacy we had shared, his eyes softening as they met mine. It was more than just physical; the connection between us felt raw, vulnerable—like something unspoken had passed between us in those heated moments.
He pulled me into another deep, lingering kiss, a silent thank you woven through the touch of his lips. “You should drink more often,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion and the remnants of the intensity we’d just shared.
Laughing softly at his comment, I replied with a teasing tone, “Is that the secret to keeping up with you?” My heart was still racing, but my voice carried a playful lightness that matched his mood.
He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Might just be,” he said, his eyes gleaming with affection and a hint of playful challenge.
Breathing heavily, I then suggested, “We should probably get back,” reluctantly pulling away. Hank unlocked the door, and we stepped out into the main area of the bathroom where a large mirror hung.
At the mirror, I quickly checked my reflection, adjusting my hair and smoothing down my clothes, trying to erase any evidence of what had just transpired. As I fixed my appearance, Hank’s reflection appeared behind me in the mirror. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me back against him. His lips found the curve of my shoulder, kissing it softly, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. There was a tenderness in his gaze, mixed with a smouldering appreciation that sent a shiver down my spine. The connection in that shared look was profound, reflecting a bond that was deepening with every stolen moment like this.
Stepping back into the boisterous heart of the bar after our secluded interlude, Hank and I were immediately swept up by the electric atmosphere. The crowd around the bar was roaring with excitement, everyone’s attention fixed on Edwin performing a feat of strength on the bar-top. Lisa was perched nonchalantly on his back, her laughter adding to the cacophony.
—“Forty-three! Forty-four! Forty-five!” The crowd’s excitement built with each count, the voices loud and enthusiastic.
Over the blaring sounds of Black Sabbath’s “Children of the Grave” from the jukebox, Hank leaned in and shouted in my ear, “Edwin’s trying to break his record! He does push-ups with Lisa on his back—his record’s fifty-three!”
As I watched, fascinated, Lisa tried to take a sip from her drink, spilling her greyhound down her chin while giggling uncontrollably. Edwin’s face, strained with effort, was drenched in sweat as he pushed through the final counts.
—“Forty-nine! Fifty! Fifty-one!” The crowd was whipped into a frenzy, each number shouted louder than the last.
Edwin’s arms visibly shook as he neared his goal, his breathing laboured.
—“Fifty-two! Fifty-three!”
Then, pushing past his limit amidst a crescendo of cheers, Edwin broke his record.
—“FIFTY-FOUR! FIFTY-FIVE! FIFTY-SIX!”
The bar erupted in cheers and applause as Edwin collapsed onto the bar, gasping, “Reward me! My just due! Reward me!” He lay there, chest heaving, as the gang quickly responded, pouring beer into his open mouth and throwing bills at him.
Lisa tumbled to the floor behind the bar, still giggling, as Edwin lay spent on the bar-top, his ordeal over but the celebration just beginning.
It was, by all accounts, a good party.
While Hank mingled with others at the bar, laughing and sharing stories, I found myself at a table with Lisa. She was as lively and engaging one-on-one as she was in a crowd, her laughter infectious and her stories peppered with humour. We talked about everything from the quirkiest regulars to the most bizarre bar mishaps, finding camaraderie in the humorous aspects of life that seem to unfold around places like these.
As the conversation mellowed, Lisa’s expression shifted subtly, a thoughtful pause as she sipped her drink. “It’s a shame Yvonne couldn’t make it tonight,” she mentioned offhandedly.
I nodded, recalling Hank’s brief mentions of Yvonne. “She works here too, right?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.
“Yeah, she’s part of the crew,” Lisa confirmed, nodding. “She and Hank used to be a thing, you know. Came in looking for a job one night, and bam, sparks flew just like that.” Lisa snapped her fingers, a wry smile crossing her face. “Hooked up that first night, pretty much like a scene out of a movie.”
My interest piqued, yet I felt a twinge of discomfort at the similarity to my own story with Hank. “How long were they together?” I ventured cautiously.
“Not long, it was pretty casual,” Lisa explained, shrugging slightly. “I don’t think it ended on bad terms, just fizzled out, you know? It’s been a while.” She reached out, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “But hey, don’t worry. Hank’s totally smitten with you. It’s obvious to everyone. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Her attempt to reassure me was kind, yet it inadvertently sent my thoughts spiralling. As I smiled back at her, a part of me couldn’t help but wonder if my relationship with Hank was not just another repeat of his past patterns. The revelation hung heavy, challenging the uniqueness of what I felt with Hank and stirring a sea of doubts in my mind.
After Lisa’s revelations, the evening continued to unfold with boisterous cheer, but a shadow of unease had settled over me. As I tried to refocus on the festivities, Hank returned to our table, his smile as bright as the laughter that accompanied him.
“How are my best girls doing?” he chimed, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder and giving Lisa a playful wink.
Lisa responded with her characteristic robust laugh, raising her glass to him. “Just filling Y/N in on all the bar lore she’s missed,” she said, her tone light and teasing.
I managed a smile, my eyes meeting Hank’s. The warmth in his gaze was meant to comfort, but it only served to deepen the knot of apprehension in my stomach. I was suddenly acutely aware of the buzz of alcohol in my veins, each pulse amplifying my growing anxiety. I excused myself under the pretence of needing some fresh air, but really, I just needed a moment to gather my thoughts away from the noise and the probing eyes that seemed to see right through me.
The night air was a cold slap against my flushed skin as I stepped outside. The solitude was a stark contrast to the chaos inside. Leaning against the cool brick of the building, I tried to piece together my swirling thoughts. Was my relationship with Hank just a pattern he repeated with others? The doubt lingered, persistent and troubling.
When I eventually returned to the bar, the party was still in full swing. I found Hank easily, his presence a beacon even in the crowded room. His expression shifted to concern as he took in my slightly disheveled appearance.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice low, a hint of worry creeping through.
“Yeah, just needed some air,” I lied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
We rejoined the festivities, and I found myself reaching for another drink, trying to wash away the uneasy thoughts with each sip. The evening blurred, a mix of laughter, music, and too many drinks that were meant to drown my doubts but only made them more pronounced.
The next thing I remember was the relentless throb of my head, echoing each beat with a sharp reminder of last night’s indulgences. The room felt too bright, too loud, even in its silent stillness. My mouth tasted like stale spirits mixed with regret, and my body was a map of aches, each movement punctuated by a dull pain. I lay there for a moment longer, hoping for a few more minutes of rest, but the relentless pounding in my skull pulled me begrudgingly from the sheets.
Gingerly, I sat up, the room swaying slightly as if it were keeping time with my unsteady heartbeat. The scent of bacon wafted through the air, its usual allure muted by the queasiness churning in my stomach. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, pausing to steady myself as a wave of dizziness washed over me. The effort it took just to stand felt monumental, my limbs heavy and uncooperative.
Staggering into the kitchen, the sight of Hank flipping bacon at the stove was oddly grounding. He glanced over, a smile spreading across his face that was both comforting and too cheerful for the hour. “Morning, sunshine. How’s the head?” he called out, his voice too bright for my senses.
“It’s marching to its own drum, loudly,” I groaned, easing myself into a chair with the grace of someone twice my age. The kitchen spun a lazy circle around me, and I closed my eyes to quell the nausea.
Hank chuckled sympathetically and soon set a plate piled high with bacon and eggs before me, alongside a glass of water and aspirin. “Eat up. It’s the best cure for a hangover,” he advised with an optimistic tilt of his head.
I nibbled cautiously at the food, my stomach rebelling at the thought of anything but the water and aspirin. Hank watched for a moment before his expression turned more serious. “You don’t remember much after midnight, do you?” he asked, his tone gentle.
I shook my head, a pang of anxiety threading through the fog of my hangover. “Bits and pieces. It’s all pretty blurry.”
He nodded, his smile tinged with amusement. “Well, you were definitely the life of the party. But, uh, you might’ve danced yourself into a bit of a misstep,” he said with a chuckle. His tone was light, aiming to ease the embarrassment I might feel.
He then shifted, mimicking a stagger, which despite my headache, coaxed a faint smile from me. “Getting you home was an adventure on its own. You were pretty much my glamorous, if somewhat unstable, dance partner all the way to your door.”
His voice softened as he recounted the later part of the evening, “And when we got back here, things got a bit, well, messy. But hey, I’ve got your back. Held your hair and got you tucked into bed. Just wish it had been under better circumstances.” His eyes held warmth, reassuring me that my dignity was still intact, at least in his eyes.
The details brought a flush of embarrassment to my cheeks, hotter than the feverish warmth I was already feeling. “Thanks for taking care of me,” I managed, my voice low, touched by his care but mortified by my own state.
“Always,” Hank replied simply, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “You’d do the same for me, right?”
I nodded, managing a weak smile despite the turmoil churning inside. The comfort of his gesture didn’t quite overshadow the fragmented memories trying to piece themselves together in the back of my mind. “Yeah, of course, I would,” I murmured, squeezing his hand back, grateful yet still piecing together the details of the previous night.
Hank stood up, refilling my water glass and busying himself around the kitchen. “Well, you rest up. I’ll be around if you need anything,” he offered, his casual demeanour belying the concern that occasionally flickered in his eyes.
As he moved around, I couldn’t help but replay the fragments of the previous night that lingered in the edges of my memory. Lisa’s words echoed subtly, mingling with the throbbing in my head, adding a layer of emotional ache to the physical discomfort. The more I tried to remember, the more elusive the details seemed, leaving me in a haze of disjointed scenes and sounds.
With a deep sigh, I pushed the plate away, my appetite failing against the onslaught of my churning thoughts. Hank noticed, his brow furrowing slightly as he returned to sit opposite me. “Not hungry, huh? Maybe some fresh air might help later,” he suggested, trying to find a gentle way to lift my spirits.
“Maybe,” I agreed, my voice barely above a whisper. The idea of stepping outside felt as daunting as solving a complex puzzle, but I knew he was right. Remaining in this state wouldn’t help unravel the tangled thoughts or soothe the hangover.
As we sat across from each other, a heavy silence settling between us, I couldn’t shake the disquiet that had rooted itself deeply since my conversation with Lisa. Hank noticed the shift in my expression, his concern evident as he leaned forward, his voice tinged with worry. “You seem a bit distant. What’s on your mind?” he asked, his eyes searching mine for clues.
Taking a deep breath, I found the courage to voice the doubts plaguing me. “Lisa mentioned Yvonne last night… how you used to see each other.” I began, my voice faltering slightly with the weight of my concerns.
Hank’s face tightened, a shadow crossing his features as he listened. “Yvonne… that was a long time ago. We’re just friends now,” he replied quickly, perhaps too quickly, his tone dismissive but his discomfort palpable.
“But why did it end, Hank? Lisa said you two had an instant connection, like a scene out of a movie or something.” I pushed, needing to understand, to find some reassurance in his answers.
He sighed, a deep, troubled exhalation as he leaned back in his chair, his hands clasping together as if bracing for a difficult confession. “Look, it ended because things got more serious on her end than I felt. I didn’t share those feelings, and it wasn’t right to keep it going. It was better to end it than lead her on any further,” he admitted, his tone somber.
A chill ran through me as he spoke, the implications of his words stirring a torrent of anxiety. “Is this… something you do a lot, Hank?” I asked, my voice wavering slightly. “Meet women at the bar, feel a connection, and take them home?” I hesitated, the words tasting bitter. “And what if I start feeling more for you? Is that how it ends for us too?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, fear lacing each word.
Hank’s gaze dropped, a mixture of frustration and vulnerability flickering across his face. He took a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before looking back up at me with a hardened expression, his voice laced with a defensive edge. “No, I don’t do this a lot,” he said, his voice firmer now. “I don’t just meet women at the bar and take them home because of some ‘connection.’ But I don’t know what to tell you, okay? I’m not clairvoyant. I can’t predict how things are going to pan out between us,” he added, his tone sharper than intended.
He paused, his fingers drumming on the table, then continued, his voice softer but still tinged with a hint of defensiveness. “Look, I’m here with you now because I want to be. It’s not about repeating the past. Every situation is different, and with you, it’s… it’s different.”
His eyes met mine, holding a sincerity that seemed to fight against his own inner doubts. “This isn’t just about having fun or something casual, not for me. But I’m also not going to lie and say I have all the answers or make promises I’m not sure I can keep.”
The room felt smaller, the air between us charged with unsaid words. Hank seemed to struggle, caught between wanting to reassure me and his own self-doubt.
“I’ve opened up to you more than I have with anyone else here, ever,” he continued, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “About things I’ve never talked about, like the crash, about Rich… That’s got to count for something, right? It’s not something I do lightly.”
I listened, the weight of his words sinking in, realising the depth of vulnerability he was showing. It was a glimpse into the complexity of his feelings, a mix of hope and fear, desire for connection battling with self-doubt.
“And no, I don’t want things to end between us if feelings grow. I… I’m not sure how to handle all this, but I know I want to try with you,” he admitted, his eyes earnest, seeking understanding or perhaps absolution from the fears shadowing his intentions.
His response, though fraught with his own uncertainties, offered a bridge between us, a possibility of navigating these waters together, however tumultuous they might be. “One day at a time, right?” I suggested, offering a tentative smile, a peace offering to the tension that had built. My voice softened as I added, “You know, I’ve never felt this comfortable with someone so quickly before. It scares me, but it’s also kind of wonderful.”
Hank nodded, understanding flashing across his features. “One day at a time,” he echoed affirmatively, his voice steady. A faint smile appeared as he reached across the table to squeeze my hand reassuringly. “And that comfort you’re feeling? I feel it too.” His touch was reassuring, affirming our mutual desire to explore whatever it was that was unfolding between us, despite the uncertainties.
I held onto his hand for a moment longer, appreciating the warmth and sincerity of the gesture. Despite his reassurance, the doubts still gnawed at me, threatening to unravel the tentative peace we had found.
Hank, sensing the tension, cleared his throat and got up from the table, gathering the plates with a quiet efficiency that left me feeling even more disconnected. I sat there, my thoughts swirling, until the soft clink of dishes broke the silence, drawing my eyes toward him. He stood at the sink, rinsing off the plates, his back turned to me, as if giving me space to think. The sound of running water and the clatter of cutlery filled the quiet between us.
I watched him for a moment, the muscles in his back shifting under his T-shirt, his movements steady, calm. Finally, he turned, leaning back against the counter, arms folded across his chest. “You okay?” he asked, his tone lighter, though I could hear the concern underneath it.
I nodded, but before I could answer, he continued, his voice thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?” The question caught me off guard. I looked up, grateful for the shift in his tone, anything to lighten the mood. “Of course.”
He leaned forward slightly, his expression more open now. “I’ve got a bit of a situation with my neighbour, Russ. His dad’s not doing so well—he’s been sick for a while, but things have taken a turn, and Russ has to head up to Rochester to be with him. He’ll be gone for a bit, and he asked if I could watch his cat, Bud.”
The unexpected request pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked, trying to imagine Hank, with all his edges and rough charm, looking after a cat. A small smile tugged at my lips. “Bud? What’s he like?”
Hank chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that told me he was a little unsure about the whole thing. “He’s a chill cat, actually. Grey, fluffy, got this white belly and these huge, soulful eyes. Russ says he’s friendly, but, uh… I’m not exactly experienced with pets.”
I could tell from the way Hank spoke that he was a bit nervous about the responsibility. I could see a faint wrinkle of concern in his brow, as if he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle it. “And you want my help?” I asked, leaning back in my chair with a playful grin.
His eyes met mine, a sheepish smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. I mean, you’re great with animals, and… let’s be real, Bud will probably like you more than me anyway. I just… I don’t want to screw it up.”
There was something vulnerable in the way he said it, something that tugged at me. The Hank standing in front of me now wasn’t the guy who always seemed to have it together. This was the man who wasn’t afraid to admit when he was out of his depth. And that, more than anything, made me smile.
“I’d love to help,” I reassured him, my voice soft. “When’s Bud moving in?”
“Tonight, if that’s okay with you. Russ is leaving later this afternoon. It’s just for a few days, maybe a week or two at most.”
I nodded, the image of Hank fumbling around with a cat growing more endearing by the second. “Sure, no problem. Cats are easy. Just feed him, make sure he’s got water, and give him attention when he wants it. The rest… Bud will handle.”
Hank’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he flashed me a grin, the tension of the morning beginning to dissolve between us. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. Thanks.” Hank said, his grin softening into something warmer, more intimate.
I smiled back, though there was still a lingering sense of unease from our earlier conversation. The tension between us wasn’t entirely gone, but this moment felt like a step in the right direction, a quiet acknowledgment that we were both still in this, despite everything.
A beat of silence passed between us, heavy with unspoken words, before I found myself blurting out, “I’m sorry for overthinking everything… for doubting us.” My voice wavered slightly, but I needed to say it—to apologise for the way my insecurities had seeped into our conversation.
Hank’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hand finding mine on the table. “You don’t have to apologise,” he said gently, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “We’ve both got stuff we’re working through.”
His words were simple, offering the reassurance I didn’t even know I was looking for. I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders, the knot in my chest loosening slightly.
Hank pulled out the chair next to mine and sat down again, his hand still resting on mine. He gave my fingers a light squeeze, and without thinking, I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his shoulder. His free arm came around me, pulling me into a soft embrace.
We sat like that for a few moments, the quiet between us feeling more comfortable now, less strained. His chin rested lightly on the top of my head, and I closed my eyes, letting myself lean into the moment, into him.
“Thanks for sticking with me,” I whispered into his chest, my voice small but sincere. “Even when I make things complicated.”
“You don’t make it complicated,” Hank murmured back, his voice low and steady. “You make it real.”
The simplicity of his words struck me deeply, and I tightened my arms around him, pressing my cheek against the soft fabric of his T-shirt. We stayed like that for a few more moments, wrapped up in each other, letting the silence between us speak louder than any words could.
Eventually, Hank pulled back, pressing a light kiss to my temple. “I should probably head out, help Russ get everything squared away before he leaves. I’ll bring Bud over later tonight,” he said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance, like he wasn’t entirely ready to leave.
I nodded, offering a small smile. “I’ll be here. And Bud too, I guess.”
Hank chuckled, the tension lifting slightly. He stood, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on. As he moved toward the door, he paused, glancing back at me with a softer expression. “See you later?”
“Definitely,” I replied, leaning against the doorframe as he stepped into the hallway.
With one last smile, Hank was gone, the door closing softly behind him. I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, the silence of the apartment settling around me like a familiar blanket. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. And for now, that was enough.
The day passed in a blur of half-hearted chores and quiet reflection. I busied myself with small tasks around the apartment—organising books, folding laundry, cleaning up the kitchen—but my mind kept drifting back to Hank, to our conversation, to the questions that still lingered on the edges of my thoughts.
Later that evening, Hank knocked on my door with a cat carrier in hand. “Bud’s here,” he announced, stepping inside. I could hear the faint meowing from within, and my heart immediately softened at the sound.
Hank set the carrier down gently and knelt to open the door. Out stepped Bud, a fluffy grey and white cat, his wide green eyes scanning the room with cautious curiosity. He sniffed the air before padding over to me, rubbing his face against my hand in greeting. I crouched down, scratching behind his ears, and his loud purring was instant, vibrating through his small body.
“He’s adorable,” I said, grinning up at Hank as Bud continued rubbing against my legs, clearly pleased with his new surroundings.
Hank smiled, watching the cat warm up to me with ease. “I think you’ve got a new fan,” he remarked, his voice soft, almost reverent. He reached out, scratching Bud’s back, and the cat leaned into his touch, purring louder.
The sight of Hank gently stroking this tiny, purring creature was so unexpectedly sweet, I couldn’t help but smile.
“You two are going to be just fine,” I said, grinning up at him. “You might even get attached.”
Hank chuckled, though there was a faint flush in his cheeks as he continued petting Bud. “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.”
The tension between us from earlier had eased significantly, replaced by a sense of camaraderie as we navigated the new dynamic of caring for Bud together. The evening felt lighter, easier, as we sat down on the couch beside the cat, watching a movie and sharing small conversations about nothing in particular.
Bud, seemingly at home, eventually made his way onto Hank’s lap, much to his surprise. Hank looked down at the cat with wide eyes before glancing over at me. “Guess I’m not so bad at this after all.”
I laughed softly, leaning against him as he scratched Bud’s head. “Told you. You’ve got the magic touch.”
There was something comforting about the simplicity of the moment, the three of us on the couch, the warmth of Hank’s arm resting around my shoulders as Bud dozed peacefully.
The anxiety that had clouded my thoughts earlier in the day felt distant now, replaced by a quiet contentment that I hadn’t anticipated.
Maybe this was what Hank meant by taking things one day at a time. Small moments of peace, of trust, of just being together without the weight of the future looming over us.
As the night deepened, Hank shifted, his voice breaking the quiet. “Thanks for helping with Bud,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against mine where they rested on the couch. “I wasn’t sure I could handle this on my own.”
I looked up at him, his face softened in the dim light, and for the first time since our conversation earlier that morning, I saw not just the man I was falling for, but the man who was willing to try—try for me, for us, and now… for Bud.
“You’re doing great,” I reassured him, squeezing his hand gently. “One day at a time, remember?”
Hank’s smile was small, but it reached his eyes, the tension from before finally dissolving as he looked down at me. “Yeah. One day at a time.”
Masterlist
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rosepinksky · 9 months ago
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Pay For My Time (pt. 5)
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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female reader
In which Ghost's neighbour drags him in for dinner, and then ruins his life.
Warnings: alcohol & nicotine use
word count: 1.9k
ao3 link
part 1 (smutty!)
masterlist
-------------------
I was antsy that night at the club, constantly checking over my shoulder for a figure that never showed. I did my best to plaster a bright smile on my face as another girl clinked her glass against mine, waving off her questioning face with a half-hearted reassurance that no, I’m good, just tired.
The hot pink lace felt too tight against my chest, the cheap fabric scratching against my glitter-dusted skin. I adjusted the straps over my collarbone, gulping down the cheap vodka in one breath as I turned my attention towards an older man in a charcoal suit at the bar. I sidled up to him, running a hand down his arm as I introduced myself with a practiced, sultry tone. He smirked as his gaze roamed greedily across my body, and I set my drink down next to his on the bartop.
I had never been one for feeling self-conscious. Since my first underwired bra at 14, since my first time fooling around with a boy in someone else’s bedroom at a house party at 16, since I’d spent my first year of university giggling sweetly at some trust fund Eton kid at a sports society mixer- I was a self-assured, confident, attractive young girl. Bright, too. Never one to say the wrong thing, to embarrass myself. Always pretty, always smart, always charming.
I remembered the day I sat down in my professor’s office to tell her I was dropping out. The confused frown tinged with concern as I babbled happily about my alternative plans, about him, about moving to London and summer weddings in Cornwall. A flashy diamond ring that didn’t quite suit my tastes but blinded me anyway glittering on my left hand.
God, it was strange how the thing I resented most was how damn good my dissertation would’ve been if I had stayed.
Leading the businessman- Michael, I think he said?- up to the private booths by then hand, I was struck by another wave of bitterness by the way Ghost had denied me that morning. Didn’t he know? Didn’t he know how good I was, how many men tonight were willing to empty their pockets just to have me in their lap?
Ungrateful prick, to deny me his cock when I offered myself up so freely for him. I made a silent vow as I bent at the waist to put on a slow song to cut him off, to ignore the needy little voice in my core that ached for him to fuck me like a goddamn ragdoll once more. I swore that vow again as I began to sway in front of this other man, dragging my nails up the sides of my thighs, feeling his eyes burning holes into the soft flesh of my ass.
I hated men, I decided in that moment. I hated how they made me feel, how they used me, how desperate I somehow still was for their fucking approval.
I left the man in that booth the second he tossed me a few notes, not bothering to send a parting smile his way. I shouldered my way back down the stairs, not stopping until I collapsed back into my chair in the dressing rooms.
“Fuck!” I whispered to myself as I gulped down a mouthful of water, closing my eyes as I exhaled sharply, cheeks burning with emotions that had no place coming to the surface right now.
I was grateful for the emptiness of the room in that moment, away from prying eyes and well-intentioned questions from the other dancers. I stared at my own reflection in the vanity mirror as I puffed away at my vape until my throat burned. I took in the slight imperfections of my face under the heavy makeup, the way the mascara clumped my bottom lashes together, the way my lipstick had smeared just at the corner of my lips. I frowned, swiping away the trace of red that escaped its confines, glancing up at the clock on the wall and resigning myself to the fact that I couldn’t really leave for a good few more hours.
There were a few things that struck Ghost as interesting about Lucy’s flat. On the surface, it was entirely what one would’ve expected from a girl like her. Doused in far too much pink, and enough candles to be considered a fire hazard to the entire building. But he’d spent too much of his life on high alert, eyes trained to take in and analyse every single detail presented to him, to be able to ignore those little ins she’d inadvertently given him.
Way too many open bottles on that bar cart, of course, though he wouldn’t have needed his SAS training to pick up on that particular vice of hers. He’d meant it in more ways than one when he’d told her he didn’t fuck drunk girls; his younger self tensing up on instinct when he saw the slight gloss in her eyes, reminiscent of his father’s blank gaze after yet another 12-pack of cheap corner store lager.
But he’d looked closer, in those fleeting hours spent in her home. Noticed the lack of pictures adorning the walls, the lingering feeling that this was a place only ever inhabited by one. No visitors. No family coming to stay for the weekend, no friends crashing after a late night dancing, no Friday afternoon coffees with that one cousin you always promised to keep in touch with but only ever saw thrice in a decade.
That struck him as odd, especially after she’d been so comfortable, so practiced as she invited him in and cooked for him. That meal was not the cooking of a lonely stripper in her early twenties, he knew that much. But still, he couldn’t picture Lucy coming from a childhood of a stay-at-home mother who patiently taught her to cook over some overpriced Aga, all warmth and softness. No, this was a woman who’d seen reality, had fought tooth and nail to perfect that seemingly effortless exterior- Lucy, Violet, whoever she may be.
He found himself inexplicably drawn to this woman. She was beautiful, no doubt about it. But there was more than that; her easy confidence drew him in, made him both want her and want to be her. He wondered, in the dim light of his lonely living room, what it would be like to exude that kind of quick social intellect. There had to be more, he mused, some reason why she got to possess that effortless, uncomplicated manner instead of him. Was it just a symptom of her beauty? Had she swanned through life unbridled with the worry of other’s judgement, simply gliding by on her looks?
The thought left a sour taste in his mouth, and he chased it away with a swig of his now lukewarm tea.
He was a fucking Lieutenant. A decorated, elite operative, a goddamn prized credit to his government. She was a stripper! No bachelors certificate framed on her walls, nothing to show for her career except some fancy coffeemaker on her countertop. She was nothing, as far as he should be concerned. And still-
And still, his throat got tighter every time he went to text her. He stumbled over his words when she ran her dainty, those stupidly dainty little hands over him.
He’d told her to call him that morning. Left her there in her bedroom feeling all smug, like he’d gotten the upper hand, and he had. Like he always did. Every girl he picked up, every pretty little barracks bunny that fell for the mystery of the mask, he always had the upper hand in the morning- if he waited that long to leave. Never cruel, never neglectful, but never sweet, either.
 And yet, despite his brain pushing forward the vivid memories of her on her knees in front of him, or of her wrapped around that pole looking like an entire fucking meal- the thing he couldn’t get out of his head was the vision of her nibbling on that corner of toast as they sat on the fire escape together in the late morning sun.
His fingers were pulling up her contact page before his brain could catch up and think better of it.
“…Hello?”
Noisy. The club, obviously.
“Hey.”
He could hear the way her breath was coming a little heavier than it should be, so in tune with her mannerisms after less than a fortnight of knowing her.
“Ghost! God, the one man I didn’t want to fucking hear from tonight.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear at that, frowning at the screen. A laugh crackled through from the other end.
“Sorry, I’m not supposed to say stuff like that. Hi, handsome, how are you?”
“I’m…fine. You’re working late for a Monday.”
A light sigh from her, and the flicker of a lighter.
“You’d be surprised. These 9-5 workers, they get fussy on a Monday. It’s one of our best days.”
He huffed out a dry laugh, using his free hand to open a window and grabbing his own cigarette.
“Why didn’t you want to hear from me?”
Silence. He stayed quiet, listening to the way her breath hitched, praying that her lowered inhibitions would give way to some sliver of the truth. He really had believed her when she’d told him she wasn’t a liar, after all.
“…Because I’m mad, at the way you left me this morning.”
He smirked. “That was the point of it. Still, I don’t think that’s the entire reason, princess.”
She scoffed, taking in a long drag of her cigarette before replying.
“God, what do you want me to say? That my ego was bruised?”
His smiled widened. Bingo.
“Now why would you say that, Lucy? Was your pretty little ego bruised, when I refused to fuck you, not once but twice?”
He could hear her grumbling under her breath, and it only served to build up his cracked self-esteem further. So she wasn’t infallible, after all.
“You know you only had to ask me, right, sweet girl? Properly. Without any of that cheap wine clouding your judgement.” He dropped his voice down to a rich, weighty tone, the cigarette dangling idly from his fingers.
“Whatever.” She snapped. “Luckily for you, sir, there’s plenty of men who’ve managed to drag the stick out of their ass for long enough to see what’s in front of them.”
His smile dropped into a frown, sitting up a little straighter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
There was another pause, and he could practically hear her smug smile. “I’m sorry if the noise disturbs your sleep tonight, Ghosty. I really would try to keep it down, but you know what I’m like when I get properly fucked.”
He wanted nothing more than to wipe that little smirk off of her face, his fists clenching until the cherry of his cigarette burned his knuckles. “Don’t you dare, Lucy.”
She giggled. She fucking giggled.
“Sorry, sir. Should’ve tried to mess with an easier girl.”
The line clicked dead, and he was left staring at the black screen of his phone.
It was less than a minute before he was on his feet, pulling on his jacket and shoving his feet into his boots, grabbing his keys before slamming his front door shut.
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tinydefector · 3 months ago
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Laboratory logs 5
Prev
Human effects part that follows this
Next
Shockwave x OC
Word count: 4k
Warnings: hinted Smut, Angst
Guess who fucking sped ran editing this fic. WOOOOOO. sorry to those who were excited for merformers but I wanted to post this.
Request are open please check pinned post for rules.
_________
Tiny stands there in front of Shockwave in a beautiful gown of white, pale green with crystal decorations, his face is decorated with make-up and shimmer almost mimicking Shockwave's helm. The mech was almost stunned with how breathtaking his beautiful human is. He takes a step forward,"Tiny," Shockwave begins, his voice sounding breathless as he admires. "You look... exquisite. The colours and decorations suit you well."
A rare smile tugs at the corners of Shockwave's lips, as he kneels down to his lover's height,reaching out a servo towards Tiny, cupping his face as he traces his digits across the young man's lips. Tiny leans up and kisses Shockwave servo as a smile graces his lips. "You clean up nicely yourself" he giggled while running his hands over the pristine plating. 
The open chest window of the gown is what catches Shockwave's attention the most. It's a soft see through fabric decorated with hanging gems. It was nothing like the clothing or fabric he had ever seen before and in truth he would do anything just to document this to his processor.  "You just going to ogle me Shockwave?" The young man teased
Shockwave's internal systems momentarily recalibrate, A faint hum of approval escapes Shockwave as Tiny's playful teasing draws his attention "I must admit, your choice of gown is beautiful, but i feel that something is missing" he responds, his voice carrying a note of admiration "The elegance and craftsmanship of the gown is something i've never seen before, forgive me i can't find the right words"
As Tiny's hands glide over his plating, Shockwave finds himself responding to the touch with a subtle tilt of his helm as they cup to rest on the side of his face, a silent invitation for more. A deep rumble vibrates from his chassis, the slow whirl and pulse of his spark makes static dance across his plating. 
Shockwave's optics flickers with  amusement, as he chuckles at the comment. "Ogling would imply a lack of focus, which is not the case," Shockwave retorts, his tone tinged with affection. "I simply find myself… speechless."
Tiny lets out a beautiful laugh as Shockwave picks him up. Spinning him around. His lips are on Shockwave's, eagerly kissing the cybertronian. The two continue to admire each other with light brushes against each other's frames. 
 " You'll have to walk me through the steps of a Conjunx Endura ceremony" Tiny whispers against Shockwave's lips. “I can do that” he hums in delight. Slowly letting Tiny back down onto his feet. Shockwave gazes down at Tiny for a moment before he slowly  presses his helm to the human man's forehead. 
"For the Conjunx Ritus, there are four rites to the ceremony," Shockwave begins, his voice steady and measured. As he speaks, Shockwave's servo gently traces down Tiny's chest. “The Act of Intimacy, Disclosure, Profference, Devotion," Shockwave explains, his words carrying a sense of reverence for the significance of the ceremony. 
With a gentle touch, Shockwave brushes a servo against Tiny's cheek, his optic softening. “ The Act of Intimacy ranges, it can be something as simple as a Helmhold or even Spark bonding, it depends on what said Ritus partners prefer, The Act of Disclosure is opening up about something private about oneself, it can be something you have never told anyone before or it could be the deepest darkest secret, a confession in a sense. The Act of Profference is the giving of a heartfelt gift, something that holds meaning to you, some bonded share their inner-energon, others craft gifts for their partner. The Act of Devotion is an act of selflessness for the individual doing something you believe is special for your partner.” 
Tiny listens, never for a moment looking away from Shockwave, his investment in the mechs words aren't lost. “So we have already completed the first one” Tiny hums with a chuckle as he brings Shockwave back down for another kiss before leaning back in to make sure his head is pressed to Shockwave's helm. 
Shockwave's own chuckle follows. “I believe your correct sweetspark” Shockwave takes a moment before he continues. “What is your biggest regret?” He asked Tiny his voice is soft, nearly a whisper when he asked the question. Tiny goes quiet for a moment. “I think it is the fact I never got to say goodbye to my loved ones, never got to tell my brother and sister how proud of them I am” Tiny states. “They were my whole world, but I hope they have been able to move on without me” the pain in Tiny's makes Shockwave's spark ache. He had never known about Tiny's past, he didn't talk about it much, and would get a sad smile when Shockwave asked about his past. 
Tiny gives him a sad smile as he finally asks his question. “You are aware that your time together is going to be fleeting in comparison to your life span, you're over a million years old, I'm lucky to reach seventy at best, are you sure you want this?” Shockwave slowly lifts Tiny up, holding him against his chassis. “And I want to treasure every klik I can with you. I'm aware we have limited time but you are who I want to spend the rest of that time with” 
Tiny wraps his arms around Shockwave's shoulder plating resting his head against him. “I also have a present for you,” Shockwave chimed as he carried Tiny to one of the desks. “Close your eyes” he sang to his little lover. Tiny shakes his head in amusement but does as instructed. The young man can feel something slowly being attached to his gown And placed around his neck and arms. “Open have a look” Shockwave beamed while holding a mirror for Tiny. 
The human man's jaw nearly drops when he sees the shimmering colours curl around in square shaped patterns. It was Bismuth, a stunning shimmering blue and green collection of Jewellery that seemed to almost complement his gown. Shockwave knew him too well. “Shockwave Where did you get this?” he stammered, This felt too much. Shockwave chuckled. “I take it you like them?” His optics shimmer with a knowing smirk. “They are beautiful,” Tiny whispered while admiring his reflection. 
“I made them for you” He hums in delight while running his servo back over his human lover's hip, lightly tracing the bismuth belt piece. “I know I'm not able to gift you inner-Energon as one would normally give a lover due to the toxicity of it. I wanted something personal for you, I grew the Bismuth in my lab using my EM field to shape it. It may not be My inner energon but it is a piece of my spark” 
“Shockwave… I, Gods..” Words seem to fail him. “Fuck now I feel like I should have done something better” He states shyly which makes Shockwave chuckle. “It's not a competition beloved, I wanted you to have a piece of me with you” Tiny slowly pulls out a small Box. “I remembered you talking about the Inner-energon thing ages back and wanted to try and do my twist on it” He pulls out a pendant that fits in his Palm, it's a crimson Red colour and as Shockwave analysis it his optics flickering as he slowly takes the small pendant holding it as if its a very delicate item. The pendant was made of Tiny's blood and resin. “You have know idea how much this means to me” Shockwave stutters holding the small pendant. 
“When I Can I'm going to have it fitted to my helm” he rumbled while pressing a kiss to Tiny's lips, so much emotion Is put into the kiss as the two lovers hold each other despite how their frames differ. As Tiny pulls away from Shockwave he runs his hand down his chassis. “I'd like you to open this for me.” The request is so gentle that it makes Shockwave's vents hitch, thinking for a moment he had misheard Tiny. But when he looks down into those sweet green eyes he does as requested slowly letting it open and show off his spark chamber. 
Tiny's hand slowly moves up towards the beautiful dancing electricity, it makes Shockwave shutter as his servos move to slowly grip Tiny's hands. “Tiny you don't have to do this” he whispers. “I want to Shockwave, I know I don't have a spark but I want to feel your spark” He admits while moving closer. “I know I can't open my chest, but it's the reason I tailored the gown this way, so that your spark could be as close to my heart as possible” those words nearly make Shockwave melt as he whispers something in Cybertronian. 
“We take this Slow, I don't want to overwhelm you” he rumbled while slowly lifting Tiny towards the beautiful swelling collection of light. The moment their chest and spark touch its like pure tranquillity and ecstasy washes over them. To Tiny it felt like the energy of a Tesla coil, static of an electrical storm, but also felt like home and warmth” 
The two bask in each other's fields holding onto each other until they both finally pull away. “Woah, I can see why body's enjoy spark bonding, I think I could get drunk off the feeling” Tiny chimes with A gentle breath. Neither of them know how they got to Shockwave's berth but that's where Tiny laid, sprawled out on soft fabric as his gown fans out making him look almost divine like. 
"I'm yours," Tiny declares. He moves slightly with a sly smile as he bites his lip, shuttering as he feels Shockwave's servo trace down his side, a small moan leaves him as Shockwave traces his chest through the sheer fabric. Shockwave's internal systems hum with a mixture of surprise and arousal as Tiny guides him 
________
Traxies is curled up on his berth but the human Ambassador sits with him. His helm is rested on their lap as they gently polish his crest and final. "Somethings eating at you Traxies, Talk to me sweetheart, what's got you so sad" they state softly. Traxiesshuddered softly as gentle fingers stroked his chevron. 
"I'm...afraid," he whispered, voice rough with static. "When I jumped, I saw Cybertron before the war. It was so beautiful, so peaceful. But then I came back, and it's all gone again. I keep thinking maybe if I go back, I could stop it. Save everyone. and it's killing me inside."  Burrowing closer, he took shuddering vent after vent. "I just want it to stop hurting," Traxiesconfessed in a small voice.
"Oh honey" they whisper, wrapping their arms around his helm while resting their head against him. "I wish I could take it away, we can't change the past sweet boy, all we can do is learn from it" they hum. "Do you want to go back home?, i'm sure we can call Optimus and take a trip back" They inquire, giving the young mech options. "Home..." he murmured, nuzzling into their hold as comfort soaked through struts. "I...do not know. Part of me longs for Iacon's spires, but another part of me wants to be back on earth." 
They chuckle softly. " missing Earth?, I know it must have been hard having to leave cybertron so young, getting used to Earth, going back to new Cybertron And now your on a ship out in the middle of space" they are rather sweet with him, it almost makes him wonder why it seemed to stir his processor with foggy images. 
Traixes' voice softened as more memories rose, bittersweet. "In many ways, it came to feel more home than Cybertron ever had." he can feel the soft inhale and exhale of their smaller body and a small memory flashes through his processor. It's blurry but it's a human holding him cooing and cradling him with a bright smile on their lips. 'Yes Daddy's busy bubba' the young man's voice hums. 
"Traxies honey, I think you should talk with Optimus, Tell him about what's happening. I know you don't like comming him but I think you need to, I don't like seeing you this upset sweet boy, Ratchet's worried about you, so am I,"
"I...think you may be right," he sighed, pulling back just enough, Steeling himself, he sat up and opened a comm. The line rang endlessly, and for an aching moment Traxiesfeared his Sire would not answer. Then, a familiar voice, strong and sure
-:Optimus Prime speaking.:-
Traxies laughed softly, suddenly feeling very young indeed. But he had to try.
 -: Optimus. It's me, Traixes. do you have a moment? There is something… something Wrong:-
 He leaned into the ambassador's embrace once more, The Ambassador stayed sitting there with Traxies, running their hands over his helm as if to soothe him. Traxies doesn't know where to start or what to ask his Sire. "Hello Optimus, Traxies has been having such issues, his Outlier ability has been flaring up" the Ambassador calls out. Traxies cycled a hesitant vent as the ambassador spoke for him, grateful yet anxious. Through the comm, Optimus' deep tone rumbled with concern. 
“Traxies, what seems to be the trouble?.” He calls out over the comm. Traxies found words at last. "When last it flared...I jumped. Into the past, Cybertron, before the war...” He shuddered, burying his faceplates in the ambassador’s embrace as comforting servos stroked his helm reassuringly. A heavy silence followed, then Optimus spoke again, gentle but certain.
“ its alright Traxies your abilities will settle eventually, I know  your afraid.” it didn't really reassure him but it makes him take a moment before bring up the weird memories he was having “Sire I've also been having flashes, seeing a human's face, he's talking to me” he mumbles. 
Optimus’ intake hitches the moment those words leave the young mech. Traxies sensed the shift in Optimus’ demeanour and paused. “I'm sorry I shouldn't have mentioned it” he mumbles quickly. A long silence followed before Optimus spoke again, words heavy with an emotion.
“Traxies, there is something I have kept from you for long vorns, hoping to spare you further pain.” Optimus admitted softly over the comm. It makes Traxies wonder, ‘just who was this blurry human?’ His spark fluttered wildly. “The...human. Did you know him?”
“ His name was...Tiny. He was your carrier, when still I was but a lowly data clerk named Orion Pax. You were his world, before the war, Primus You were still so small when Tiny brought you to me.” Optimus shuttered remembering that cycle as if it was yesterday. 
Traxies reeled. His carrier—a fleshling? And another Mech, his true sire? “How...why was I given to you?” he bluntly asked, sitting up quickly, gasping in the air as if his spark would extinguish.   
“The wars stole them both, as it has so many. But they loved you dearly, and their last wish was for you to be protected, no matter the cost. So I swore to guard your life with my own, and give you a home. It's the reason I raised you with Bumblebee and the Twins. Tiny feared what would happen if anyone was to discover who your Sire was” 
“Who was my Sire!” He nearly shouts, so many emotions run through him, his EM field a mess of static.  
Optimus took a deep vent before answering.  “Shockwave” 
It makes Traxies want to sob, to ask why he had never been told, memories flash of the only time he had ever seen the cyclops like mech, Ratchet had grabbed him before and of the Decepticon could see the young 3rd plated bitlet. There were so many emotions in him. But before Optimus can say anything nor the Ambassador Traxies was out the door of his Hab, transforming and taking off down the hall's comm call ending abruptly.
Traxies Raced through the halls like one possessed, EM field a swirling maelstrom of grief and shock. To have his past, his very identity stolen from him for so long the betrayal cut deeper than any blade. 
Why had Optimus kept this from him? Questions tumbled through Traxies' troubled mind, each bringing fresh waves of hurt. His true sire, Shockwave . How had he come to be the spawn of such a mech?
Lost in a turmoil of emotions, Traxies fell into a reckless dive through the barren fields of Thora 4. All he had known was a lie, leaving only pain in its wake. Was this the fate of all outliers - to live a lie. Exhausted and desperate, Traxies finally pulled from his dive, transforming and hovering amid the rocky giants as stellar winds buffeted his plating. A single, static-laced plea escaped into the void. "Why have you forsaken me...?” he curls in on himself before he begins to violently sob. 
He doesn't realise he's not on the ship anymore, nor that he's no longer sat on Thora 4, when he finally looks up from sobbing he's sat in a field of flowers, lush green grass which is a stark contrast from the asteroid field of Thora 4. Traxies' vents heaved when he finally raised his helm, intending to behold the cold emptiness. 
Earth's familiar aromas and atmosphere soothed frazzled sensors for a brief moment. 
How? He had not intended to jump, lost as he was in anguish's grip. Yet here, halfway across the cosmos, Earth's verdant grace had caught him. 
he collapsed into the soft grasses with a sob, overwrought by this bittersweet haven found by accident. Fingers curled into the petals as coolant poured freely, mingling with dew and pollen. Traxies at last released the tides of sorrow swelling his spark. He wept for the life denied him - for creators taken, for truths left unsaid. 
He doesn't know how long he lays in that grassy field. But he's broken out of his thoughts by the sound of a loud engine and the sound of a transformation Cog followed by the scrapping and clings of metal. His optics meet a much larger shutter mech who eyes him curiously. "Aya hurt Speedsta?" The unknown Mech calls out, 
Traxies jolted back online slowly, senses sluggish from emotional flux. Lifting tear-streaked optics, he beheld the hulking form looming overhead - a mech unlike any he'd seen, bold and unaligned. Fear and confusion pulsed in his field. "Hurt...no, I'm not hurt," Traxies said his vocalizer sounded rough after sobbing. 
 "I...who are you? Where did you come from?" No response came but a metallic scraping, as though the large mech struggled to communicate.
The Shuttler Laughs a hearty laugh. "Ay ya look rather Slagged, names Rattler. Pits Kid you look like you've been through it" he rumbled holding his servos up as he made himself less threatening as he moved closer to the young speedster.
Traxies tensed, but did not retreat as Rattler approached, this strange mech stunned the speedster with his unique design - an Earth mech indeed, yet like none he'd known before.
"Yea.. Found some things out about my past I wasn't ready for - that my whole life's been a lie. Intakes hitched on a fractured sob. "Don't...even know who or what I am anymore. Just had to get away, and somehow ended up here instead." His field flickered with confusion and anguish as dim optics met Rattler's once more. 
"Eh Everyone's runnin from something kid, not often ya see neutral mechs here, best keep yaself hidden if your gonna roam round, got mixed bots planet size ere, doubt ya wanna get dragged into that, Primus ya look like ya fresh in you plating, where's ya guardian?" Rattler asked, quite worried over the young mech on earth by himself.
Traxies field roiling with raw hurt. "No guardian. I...found out my whole life was one big lie. The mech who raised me - he wasn't truly my creator. Hid my true origins, my real sire, from me this whole time." A harsh laugh escaped him. "Turns out, my carrier wasn't even a Cybertronian. Can you believe it?" Chokes out with a fake laugh, pale pink coolant well up in his optics. 
"I had to get away when I learned the truth. Didn't know where to go, so I guess my outlier ability took over. Now I'm stuck here, with no idea who or what I am." His frame shuddered, barely holding back another wave of grief. Traxies looked to the Shuttle mech sitting beside him. 
"Needa plate ta cry on?" The older mech asked while moving closer to the young speedster. Traxies bit back a sob at the offer. Cycling a shuddering vent, he nodded once, blinking away fresh coolant running down his faceplate. 
"Yes, please." His voice emerged ragged, drained bare by the maelstrom within. Traxies did not resist as the massive arm slid beneath his back, nor as the shuttler lifted him tenderly against his plating with surprising care. Exhausted in spirited and frame, Traxies curled weakly into the solid warmth, gouging servos clenching against plating as fresh waves of grief took him. Muffled static-sobs emerged, echoing all the pain of revelations too cruelly borne. 
_________
Tiny stood by Shockwave's side as the Mech finished his last analysis over equipment. In truth they weren't taking much with them, Shockwave wasn't going to risk getting tracked by the DJD from Delphi. "Where are we heading?" Tiny asked, he was clothed in a rather dark hooded coat. Cybernetic leg on display but the rest of his body was covered. 
"To Cybertron," Shockwave replied succinctly, his optic focused on the task at hand. The decision to return to their home world held a sense of purpose and determination, 
Tiny's eye and optic flick to Shockwave as the Decepticon leans down to pick him up. "Why are we going back to cybertron? I thought you said the planet was destroyed in the war." So many questions float around in Tiny's thoughts. 
"Indeed, Cybertron did endure significant devastation during the war, but it has since undergone a process of reconstruction and revitalization," Shockwave began, his tone measured and informative as he addressed Tiny's inquiries. "Returning to Cybertron presents an opportunity to find new information."
As Shockwave lifted Tiny,the cyborg's gaze met the Decepticon's, " we may uncover new insights and discoveries that could shed light on the whereabouts of Optimus Prime and your search for Traxies," Shockwave continued, his words tinged with a hint of anticipation. 
Tiny's eye and optic light up when he hears those words. "Your... you're, but you said they.." His words are a jumbled mix trying to register everything. Shockwave had never looked for Traxies as he was unaware that he was placed in Orion's care. He had believed the senate had offlined their sparkling.
Shockwave observed the flicker of realisation on Tiny's face, the mix of confusion and surprise evident in his reactions. "I... I was not aware of Traxies being placed under Orion's care," Shockwave admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. The realisation that he had been operating under a misconception for so long, that his knowledge had been incomplete, stirred a mix of guilt and regret within the scientist. For all Shockwave knew he could have been responsible for offlining his sparkling unknowingly. 
Tiny moves before he thinks wrapping his arms around Shockwave's helm, hugging him closely, he didn't want to cry, it hurt his optic when he did. "Thank you, thank you" falls from his lips.
Shockwave's systems freeze up at the unexpected physical contact from Tiny, the embrace around his helm stirring a mix of emotions within the scientist. The warmth of the gesture, the gratitude and vulnerability in Tiny's words, touched a chord within Shockwave, prompting a rare flicker of emotion within his logical mind. "You are... welcome, Tiny," Shockwave responded, his voice soft yet resolute. The weight of Tiny's gratitude, the sincerity in his words, reverberated through the space between them, forging a bond of companionship and understanding that defied the confines of logic and reason.
In that moment Shockwave sees glimpses of his conjunx from before the war, Tiny from before the fall of everything, the sweet and beautiful human. It makes Shockwave's spark ache but he vows to himself that they would find out what happened to Traixes.
_____
Here's some art of what Rattler looks like
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gayerthanevertbh · 2 years ago
Text
blissfulness | i want you pt. 5
natasha romanoff masterlist | series masterlist | navigation
pairings: older!natasha romanoff x young!fem reader
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summary: your father doesn’t know it yet, but you’re in love with his best friend. and what makes it better is that you’re sure enough that she feels the same way. the sad part is, neither of you can word out your love for each other properly.
warnings: slight anxiety attack (just a tinge), bucky being a little bitch, smut involved, oral sex (n receiving), g!p natasha, dirty talking, fluff, and a little angst - MINORS DNI.
notes: i might be uploading part 6 later since i’m so motivated right now! and i’m sorry that i haven’t been updating, but i’ll do my best to update from now on! anyway, enjoy x 
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The residents of the town began to throw their own parties in the middle of July. Therefore, I was invited, as well as my dear friends. When I asked Bucky about the large party near the swimming lake, he informed me that Felicia, one of our old friends, was hosting it. I considered joining and having fun with them, as I always do, but then I focused on Natasha because we were secretly developing a relationship. Though I knew deep down that our affair could never be in public, I still wanted to show her how much I love her as much as she loves me.
But Bucky kept an eye on both of us. And if he found out she loved me, my father would find out and tear us apart as if we were nothing to each other. Natasha is like a mother to me, but I don't see her that way, so I knew that my father would never approve of this kind of relationship. How can I think that way about her when all she offers is an act of affection that goes beyond platonic? How can I sleep when all I could think about is her? Her, her, her. I love her, I love her more than anything else in this world. I love her because she sees me, and only me. I love her.
Love is not always enough.
Reading in the sun is always my favorite activity when I'm in Italy with my father and the people around us. While fiddling through the pages, I pay close attention to Natasha as she flips the steak she was roasting near the garden area where we all eat. She turned her gaze to me and smiled, while my father was ranting to her about something so oblivious. I looked at her defined shoulders with a churn in my stomach. Oh, how many times I’ve bit onto her skin while her cock was ramming inside of my cunt, whispering my name each time she thrusts into me. In and out, in and out. My cunt began to feel tingly, and I had to close my legs to calm myself down. Not right now, I thought. It’s too obvious.
But her skin was flawless in the Tuscan sun. How easily she moves her hands in the air while talking to my father, how gracefully she smiles at him, making me wish she would do the same with me. I was the sun if she was the moon. Everything was flawless in my presence, and this summer has gone above and beyond perfection. I gave one more look before reading through the pages of my favorite book, sighing happily to myself.
I was about to fall asleep in the sun after fifteen minutes had passed when I overheard two people laughing and chatting as they approached our house. I sat up and looked over my shoulder to see Bucky and MJ walking by. What are they doing here? I thought to myself. Should I shoo them away to prevent ruining my day? Knowing Bucky, I know that my day will be ruined when he is around Natasha. I had to do something.
Until I was too late.
“Hey, Steve!” Bucky patted his back while inhaling the amazing smell of steak from the grill. He looked at Natasha and gave her a small smile, reaching out his hand. “It’s nice seeing you again, Nat.”
If they would see my face right now, they would notice how uncomfortable I was with this scenery.
"Good to see you too, Buck." She scratched the back of her neck and smiled at him. “And who is this lady? I’ve never seen her before.”
Steve responded in her place, taking a sip from his cold beer. "That's Y/n's other good friend Mj, they've been friends ever since we built the house here," he said. “Along with Bucky, of course. The three of them have been good friends.”
“You live here?” Natasha asked Mj.
She gleefully replied to the woman, "I only come here during the summer or Christmas. And whenever I’m here, Bucky and Y/n will be around the area. They’ve been my friends ever since I was a kid.”
Natasha nodded slowly and grabbed herself a cold beer from the red box that was filled with other beverages. “Y/n is over there, reading her book. Does she always like to read while the sun is out?”
“It’s one of her favorite things to do,” Mj chuckled, crossing her arms while whistling to catch my attention. I stood up from the grass and walked towards them all, brushing my hair away from my face. I smiled at Mj and gave her a small kiss on the cheek, greeting her in a friendly matter.
“When did you guys get here?” I asked. Before MJ could respond, Bucky wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to him, as though I were his love. I knew Natasha was watching his arm, and there was nothing I could do about it.
“The minute we smelled these amazing fucking steaks!” Bucky exclaimed happily, kissing the temple of my forehead. I looked into Natasha’s green eyes, and the sparkling light behind them was gone. Did she envy me, now? Did she envy the way he touched me? If she only knew that I never meant for this to happen, then I would’ve gladly said that out loud. But I couldn’t risk it, not when my father and my other friend were around.
“Hey Y/n, why don’t you help Natasha bring out the wine glasses?” my father asked, which felt like some type of relief. I got out of Bucky’s embrace and followed Natasha to the kitchen quietly, not looking back at his staring eyes.
Because I knew he was staring.
I can feel the beginning of our silence as I make my way to the kitchen. When we arrived, neither of us exchanged a word, and I was unsure of how to start a conversation with her while she was nearby. She turned around and smiled at me, which was completely unexpected. I couldn't help but return her smile.
“Enjoying yourself out there?” she asked me with a deep sultry voice while her hands kept themselves busy. I shook my head and reached for four wine glasses, gripping them tightly with my fingers.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course,” she replied almost instantly and grabbed two bottles of red wine from the pantry. “Are you?”
I felt myself pausing, lacking words as her eyes stared deep into mine – as if she wanted to kiss me right there where everybody could see, where everybody could witness our unhinged love for each other. Instead, I nodded sheepishly and replied with a stutter, “W-Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“I know you, Y/n.”
“Were you jealous a while ago?”
She quirked an eyebrow and let out a small quiet chuckle, shaking her head.
“Was I jealous?”
I rolled my eyes, leaning against the countertop. “Can you answer my question properly, please?”
“I wasn’t,” she said. “I just… he’s holding you as if you were his.”
“But you know that I’m yours, right?” my voice sounded timid, and the air started to feel warm. My skin also felt warm, almost to the point of sweating. She nodded and slowly walked towards me, her breath trickling down my face. She leans in close and smiles to herself. Like a proud woman, she is.
“I know, sweetheart. Maybe that’s why I want to fuck you tonight.”
I let out a quiet gasp when she kissed my bottom lip searingly and walked away with a proud grin on her face. I tried to walk properly, but I could feel my legs tingling once again. This effect that she has on me, cannot be hidden anymore. At some point, everyone will know and I will be the one who is to blame for it. Not her. But could that even happen right now? I doubt it.
We ate the steak in the garden with laughs and giggles coming from us all. I was sitting beside Bucky while Natasha was sitting with my father, pouring herself a drink while my father helps her out with the cigarette in her mouth. MJ couldn’t help but ask, “Are you two dating?”
Natasha and Steve exchanged glances before giggling softly. That caused my heart to race because I felt as though I were witnessing their love story. It wasn't, though, so that. They might be dating, but I doubt it. It could just be a theoretical idea. Not when Natasha gave me a different kind of look than everyone else.
Bucky felt his body stiffen and ate a huge piece of meat. MJ scrunched her eyebrows together, asking the same question again. “So, are you?”
“No, we’re not dating,” the woman replied to her. “I don’t think he would be my type anyway.”
“Wait, so are you–”
“Yes,” Natasha cuts her off with an amusing smile, flicking the ash from the cigarette near the ground. “I’m a lesbian, MJ. I like women.”
There was a brief silence before MJ nodded with a flushed face, sipping her drink from the wine glass. Bucky nodded slowly and brought his arm back around me, as if protecting me from something so dangerous. Natasha looked at us both, but her face looked nonchalant. She wasn’t bothered. Why wasn’t she bothered by the two of us?
“I heard that Felicia is throwing a party again,” my father mentioned, wiping his chin with a paper towel. MJ looked at me with a smirk, a devilish one, and I could feel my eyes rolling in a playful matter. “Are you three going? You know, Felicia was one of your best friends.”
“Until she fucking backstabbed us with that boyfriend of his, what was his name again?”
“Peter Parker,” Bucky answered for MJ. “Parker got jacked up actually, have you seen his abs?”
“Now I’m suddenly thinking you might be gay, Mr. Barnes,” I whispered, shoving my elbow against his rib playfully – causing him to wince. I hear Natasha chuckling quietly from the scene and sipping from her wine glass, looking away.
Eventually, I realized that I did that on purpose. To make her laugh and see that I do not love him nor worship him and that I was all hers instead of his. I could continue to show my love for her like this, out in the open.
“Peter fucking Parker,” MJ mumbled to herself, grabbing one stick of cigarette that was on the middle of the table. She borrowed Natasha’s lighter and puffed out smoke in the air. “I’ve always had feelings for her.”
“You had feelings for Felicia?” I asked and she nodded. “Wait, how come I didn’t know about this?”
“Us gay people are good at hiding it,” Natasha butts herself in, looking at me with a slight grin on her face. “I say you did a pretty good job at hiding it.”
“Well, thanks for that.”
While Bucky had his arm around me as we ate and engaged in a number of new conversations, I could feel the woman's glare. She took one final bite of her steak before leaving to use the restroom. I desperately wanted to go after her and confess my love to her, but I knew that would endanger our relationship. Instead, I see her stepping away from the table while slightly hunching her back. “You're making it obvious, Y/n,” Bucky said as he continued to pull me in. “Stop it.”
It cringes me that he knew so quickly that I was in love with my father’s best friend.
“Are you two together now?” my father asked with a huge grin on his face that purely disgusts me how he thinks that way, that I was supposed to be in love with Bucky instead of Natasha. “Bucky, did she say yes?”
“Yes to what exactly?" They both looked at me with intriguing eyes that scared me away as my curiosity took over. What could he possibly be talking about–
“That you’re Bucky’s girlfriend,” dad slowly said with a frown. “Did you not say yes?”
What?!
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about–”
“I haven’t asked her yet,” Bucky murmured to my father, and he looked at me with an apologetic look. “Y/n, I was going to ask you–”
“You know how I feel about you, Buck,” I whispered to him, eyeing everyone else at the table with my heart pounding like crazy. It was like I was being humiliated or being used like another toy, just like how my mother would use me when I still lived with her. I looked at my father one last time before giving him that look that I had never used on him before. “And you know that I’m not ready for any of this.”
“But I thought…” his word drifted, just like how my trust drifted away as well. “I thought we felt the same way?”
Don’t act like you know my love for Natasha.
“Can we not do this here?" I got to my feet and wiped my skirt. “I’ll be in my room.” I started walking to the other house and started crying before he could utter a word. He would never make me happy, let alone if I tried to discover my feelings for him. He should be my boyfriend—never her. But the fact remains that she will always be the culprit, and that hurts.
Because I know that it’s impossible to love someone in secret.
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Being by yourself by the lake is quiet and sentimental. I enjoy bringing my books here, and occasionally Bucky too. But following that event that afternoon, I made the decision that I could no longer bring him here. I tried to forget what had happened as I frantically read through the pages of my book. As I've learned from Cris, our housekeeper, Natasha has left with Steve. What were they doing, perhaps getting another drink at a bar with some people their age? I could never know, I never understood the meaning behind that.
As I close my eyes, I can feel like someone was walking toward me. When I opened the lids of my eyes, Natasha was right in front of me, with a solemn look on her face – as if she was sorry for what happened a while ago. She sat down beside me and gave me a peck on the head.
“I heard what happened a while ago,” I sighed as she whispered that statement to me. Of course, MJ has told her. “Did Bucky hurt you?”
“Not physically.”
“What happened then, dove?”
“I don’t have the energy to tell you, Tash.”
While lying down next to me and watching the wind-blown tree leaves, she sighed. I felt her hand entwined with mine, but I did not object because I sort of like it when she does these things without saying them out loud. She looked at me, and asked: “What did he say?”
“Something with ‘I was supposed to ask you to become my girlfriend'," but I made a dramatic walk out,” I answered briefly. “I mean, he knew about us, but why would he even ask that question? He knows I’d say no.”
“Maybe Steve planned this,” she reasoned, which made me turn my head a little to look her in the eye. “I mean, Steve loves you both. He wants to see you two as a pair, so I assume maybe he gave Bucky his blessing or he told him to get you as his girlfriend.”
“I thought Dad wanted the best for me.”
“And I’m sure he does, baby girl…” her hand crept inside of my tank top and pulled my body closer to her, our noses touching – without a word. “He does. It’s just that… he doesn’t really know what your heart wants.”
My heart screams for you, my body wants you. Every part of me wants you and only you.
“Do you love me?” I asked her with an unmelodic voice. I pressed our noses together hard and begged, “Do you love me? Tell me you love me, Tasha. Tell me that you do.”
Natasha cups the right side of my face and pulls me into a french kiss, her tongue sliding into my mouth that I could’ve sworn I let out a guttural moan. I didn't pull away nor push her away, I let her in. She whispered breathlessly, “I love you more than the words described.”
“Then show me,” I begged once again as I trailed my hand down into her brown shorts, feeling her erection against the palm of my hand. She moans into my mouth and drags me closer to her, grunting each time I stroke her cock in her confinement. “Show me that you love me, Tasha.”
“You want me to show you, huh?” her hands hurriedly pulled down her shorts along with her boxers as her cock pokes out in the air, precum leaking from its head. She grabbed my hand and wrapped it around her length, her eyes fluttering close as I dragged the skin downward. “Oh fuck, your hand feels so warm…”
Our tongues danced as I slowly pumped her cock. I could feel her spitting saliva into my mouth, pleading with me to swallow it. As soon as I did, she softly pinched my right nipple with her hand concealed inside my tank top while licking the roof of my mouth. Everything felt at peace – pure silence and bliss. I couldn’t ask anything for more.
“Touch me,” she whispered with a weary tone, dragging her lips down to my chest. I realized that she was begging, she had never begged before in my presence. “Touch me harder, go faster with your hand.”
I’d never touched a cock before in my life until she came around. At first, I had no idea how to use my hand. Whether I should just lick the tip of her cock or bring her to orgasm with my hand. But as I get skillful with every part of my body, I already know how to pleasure her – yet it feels all new to me as if I’ve never touched anyone in my life.
It was just me and her, in my little world.
The sloshing sounds filled our area and were not audible as I jerked her cock off, and she stared directly into my face. I couldn't help but stoop down and suck all of her pre-cum into my mouth as the tip of her penis started to turn this sort of purplish color. Despite how bitter it tasted, I savored every last drop of her juice. It almost had a sweet-bitter flavor that resembled glazed donuts. My head was touched by her hand as she pushed me deeper into her long cock while groaning in pain from the chokehold.
“That’s a good girl,” she stuttered, her breathing hitching each time I gagged while taking her cock into my throat. She slowly lifts her hips and starts to thrust into my mouth, making me let out choking sounds. “Use your tongue baby, fuck–your mouth is so wet, I could be in your mouth forever…”
Forever, you say? What about your feelings for me? Would that be forever too?
The way she uses her words too, I could go on forever about how much I’ve loved her talking like that with me.
When my nose was pressed against her pelvis, I knew that her cock was all the way into my mouth – and I could barely breathe because of it. So I pulled out quickly and let my saliva dribble onto her cock. I watch as it twitches in my hand, and I gradually pull the skin of her dick all the way down before bringing it back up, pushing out more precum from her. She flexes her stomach as I continue to do this, whispering: “What else do you want me to do, Daddy?”
“J-Just keep sucking on it,” she softly demands, I could not resist. So I put her penis back into my mouth and started to bob my head up and down, my tongue pressing against her rod. “Oh yeah… that’s so good. Your tongue feels so good, baby. A-Ah–”
I could feel the sun burning into the back of my neck, yet I didn’t care. I continued to devour her cock, slurping and licking every bit of it. She throws her head back and thrusts into my mouth in a shallow pace, making my face all puffy and red. “More, more…” she said. “Need to fucking blow into your mouth, let me cum in your mouth?”
I nodded vigorously as I massaged her balls, her moans turning into a whine. She prompts both of her elbows on the grass as she watches me bobbing my mouth up and down, savoring every taste that she has. Natasha bites her lower lip, almost causing me to draw blood, and continues to thrust slowly into my mouth.
I pulled away with a wet pop and jerked her length while kissing the tip of it. “Are you going to cum soon, Daddy?”
“Uh-huh…” she nodded, scooting closer as she got closer to her high. “I’m going to cum soon baby, j-just stick out your tongue!”
I did what I was told to do, bringing my tongue out as she rapidly jerked herself off, her hooded eyes staring at my mouth rather than at my eyes. She humps the air until her hips stiffen, screaming quietly: “I’m cumming! I’m–Oh god…”
My eyes began to close as I felt her sperm splash onto my mouth, then open again as some of it landed on my nose and then my eyes. Her world is filled with rainbows and other forms of happiness as she sprawls out on the grass during an explosive orgasm. I sat next to her and used her boxers as a tissue to wipe off the cum from my face. She hugged me tightly while her bottom was completely exposed, looking at me with guilt in her eyes.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I liked it.”
“I would make love to you here but…” her words trailed off when she looked over her shoulder, the house was a few feet away from the lake. “Maybe in your room this time?”
She gave me a tight hug as I giggled in her arms. How could I ever let this go over a boy when I’m truly happy with another person? She was my happy place forever, and this was my happy place. My eternal crush on a woman. We talked and laughed for another hour while we were sitting by the lake, remembering all the other experiences we had as a couple. Perhaps I should consider moving away with her so that I don't have to live in this neglectful environment, that I call home.
As soon as we got back, my friends were inside the house. I looked at Bucky at first, then Felicia since I haven’t seen her in so long. She smiled at me and gave me a warm hug – I gladly accepted it.
“I haven’t seen you in a really long time, Y/n.” she contemplated with a sigh. “I’ve missed my best friend.”
“Don’t steal her away from me,” Bucky mentions with a chuckle, dragging the cigarette away from his mouth while his eyes were on Natasha. I looked at them both, and I noticed that Natasha wasn’t looking at him but instead, looked at Felicia. “What did you do with your Auntie?”
Of course, he would sound condescending. But I couldn’t get mad at him right now, not in front of everyone who is watching us both. So I replied with a nonchalant tone, “We just sat by the lake, anything wrong with that?”
He shook his head slowly, examining my body as if he might find something that would be evidential that I gave Natasha a hard blow job.
He didn’t inspect anything, I was too good at this.
“Nothing at all, pretty girl.”
“You should go to my party tonight,” Felicia happily shook both sides of my arms, squealing with excitement. “Everyone will be there! There will be drinks, music, and loads of other stuff! You know I’m great at hosting parties.”
“That I do remember,” I chuckled, kissing her cheek. “I’ll have to dress up first, you guys should go ahead.”
I watch as they all leave, including Bucky, before I can walk to Natasha. We both knew, for some reason, that I would never be his when he turned to look back. I wish I could have chosen him instead, and it does break my heart that I can't. But I also want to be with someone who makes me feel complete and important. After everyone left, Natasha pulled me into an embrace while sighing into my neck. She seemed to have been waiting for this, so I happily gave it to her. A simple hug has the potential to become something magical.
“I’ll never let you go,” she whimpered. “Just don’t let me go too, okay?”
We gave each other a tight hug as I nodded and kissed her. I noticed she was wearing the kind of woodsy fragrance I liked from her as soon as I smelled her. But I was unable to fully explain it because saying anything more would be overwhelming. I don’t ever want to slip away from her, and I knew that I won’t if there was a time that my father would find out about us both.
“I promise.”
“I know.” she sighed and kissed my mouth with no agony, no torture.
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