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[muashamaila]

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[mctreeleth]

I know from friends that spending hundreds of dollars on makeup is a thing that people do but I just spent $200 on 15 of the one long-discontinued lip colour that I actually like and i feel like an insane person

[ordinary-barbie]

scary dog privileges.

summary: Nobody's messing with you as long as Rafe Cameron is around.

pairing: rafe x sweet!pogue!reader

word count: 1.7k

tags: fem!reader, swearing, a guy acts like a creep towards reader, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex (protected), mutual orgasms

note: dipping my toes into obx fanfic after hyperfixating/crushing on Drew Starkey and reading a ton of Rafe stories, haha. I have not seen the show but I'm shooting my shot here anyway!

~~~~

They say that opposites attract, which couldn't be more accurate regarding your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

Rafe was the Kook king of Kildare Island, someone who oozed cockiness and arrogance. Meanwhile, you were a soft-spoken Pogue. When people spotted the two of you together, they couldn't wrap their heads around it, and frankly, neither could you. Rafe had his pick of any girl on the island - especially the Kooks - but somehow he only had eyes for you, which warmed your heart.

It all started last year, with a party at Tannyhill to celebrate your class graduating from high school. You were content to stay under your covers, binging Love Island Australia on Hulu, but your friend Olivia had begged you to come with her. Eventually, you relented, your curiosity about one of Rafe Cameron's famous parties getting the better of you.

Within five minutes, you'd ran into Rafe—literally. You'd been swaying to the music and accidentally bumped into him, spilling your drink all over his shirt. You'd been mortified, apologizing profusely and insisting on helping him clean up.

Rafe was a goner ever since.

Now it was time for another Tannyhill bash to celebrate the start of summer, and you were squarely by Rafe's side. In the year you'd been together, you'd discovered how protective your boyfriend was. He held onto you like an anchor, always having an arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, no matter if he was talking to Topper and Kelce or kicking some rando's ass at beer pong. You appreciated it; parties often made you feel like a nervous baby deer, and it was nice to have someone to hold on to.

Unfortunately, you couldn't always be joined at the hip. "I'm gonna piss but I'll be right back, baby," Rafe promised, giving your ass a light squeeze on the way to the bathroom. As soon as your boyfriend was out of sight, your smile dropped. While you'd made an effort to get to know Rafe's friends, you were still incredibly nervous in a house full of Kooks.

To kill some time, you scrolled through Instagram, giggling at Olivia's latest story. She'd posted herself having a "friendly pizza sesh" with a guy, but you knew she'd had a huge crush on him since high school.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over you. "What's got you laughing like that, pretty girl?" You jumped, startled by the unfamiliar male voice.

A smirking guy with short, curly dark brown hair and glinting hazel eyes sauntered up to you. "Hey, I'm Aidan. I'm new in town—but maybe a cute thing like you could show me around?" he lazily drawled.

Your skin prickled with discomfort. You suddenly wanted to shrink into yourself, but you forced yourself to smile anyway. "Sorry, I'm not interested."

Aidan laughed, undeterred, and leaned into you. "Playing hard to get, huh? That's kinda hot," he whispered into your ear, making your stomach churn.

"I said no thanks," you responded, laughing nervously. You should run. You needed to get out of there. But for some reason, you found yourself rooted to the spot, trapped with Aidan and the pungent stench of his cologne.

Aidan pouted, using his arms to pin you against the wall. "C'mon babe, just give me a chance. I don't bite."

"How many times is she gonna tell you to fuck off before you get the point?" Relief flooded your chest at the sound of your boyfriend's voice.

Aidan rolled his eyes. "Why don't you fuck off, dude? We were having a moment."

Rafe glared at Aidan, his eyes blazing with rage, and grabbed the other boy by the collar of his Lacoste polo. "That's my girlfriend, you jackass. And you're gonna step the fuck away from her. Now."

You suddenly felt a zinging sensation in your core, turned on by Rafe's behavior. He was so sweet and silly and kind but could turn into a snarling dog in an instant — definitely not someone to fuck around with.

Rafe released Aidan's collar and the brunette gulped, suddenly trembling with fear.

"I - I'm sorry man. I had no idea," Aidan stammered. "I'll leave her alone."

Rafe wrapped a protective arm around your waist, scowling at Aidan. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Aidan meekly nodded, scurrying out of Tannyhill. The party filled with laughter, with people cheering Rafe on. But Rafe ignored the commotion, only focused on you.

"I'm so sorry baby. I should've been there to protect you from that—that asshat," Rafe apologetically said, tenderly stroking your cheek. You leaned into his touch, instantly comforted by the warmth radiating from his body.

"It's okay, Rafe," you assured him. "It's not like you could take me into the bathroom with you."

Rafe frowned, kissing the top of your head. "Maybe I should. Can't have these fuckin creeps tryna mess with my girl."

You laughed, shaking your head at your well-meaning boyfriend. "I adore you, but I'm not gonna stand there and watch you pee."

Rafe flashed you a lopsided grin. "Why not? We've done way worse things in there. That poor sink has seen some shit."

You playfully shoved Rafe's shoulder. "Rafe Alexander Cameron! I can't believe my knight in shining armor is so crass."

"Don't act like you don't love it, baby," he casually replied, kissing your neck. You let out a soft moan, tilting upward so Rafe could have more access.

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of Topper fake retching. "Begging y'all to please get a room," he pleaded. You couldn't help but snicker at Topper's dramatics.

Rafe lazily flipped off his friend before whisking you off to his bedroom and locking the door. "Get on the bed for me, pretty girl," Rafe said huskily, brushing his lips against your ear. Damn, that nickname sounded so much sexier from Rafe's lips than that douche from earlier. (Aaron? Andrew?)

You kicked off your sandals and laid down on top of Rafe's king-sized bed, pulling off your dress and underwear. Rafe quickly shed himself of his clothes and laid on top of you, kissing down every inch of your body.

"So I'm your knight in shining armor, huh? Well let me give my princess the treatment she deserves," Rafe drawled, relishing in the way your body reacted to his touch.

He plunged two fingers inside you, pumping them in and curling them right against your sweet spot. You gasped, loving the way he stretched you out. Rafe had been the only guy you'd ever slept with and at this point, you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else; how could you, when you've only experienced the best?

You began to crave more than just his fingers, however. "Rafey," you whined, fully overcome with lust.

Rafe chuckled, lazily rubbing at your clit. "Use your words, princess. Tell me how to make you feel good."

You gulped, still feeling a little timid when it came to expressing your desires in the bedroom. "I need—I need your mouth, Rafey. Please."

Rafe knitted his eyebrows in mock confusion. "Where, baby? Your lips? Your cheek? Your forehead?"

"Rafe Cameron. Eat my pussy before I explode," you begged, your horniness taking over.

Rafe smirked, pulling his fingers out of you before slowly running his tongue across your folds. “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty. Almost as much as I love this sweet little pussy. She's already so wet for me, holy shit."

You whimpered, arching your back in ecstasy as Rafe continued to pleasure you, kissing and sucking at your clit. You felt that familiar fire in your stomach, a sure sign that your climax was fast approaching.

"Oh, Rafe—'m gonna cum," you moaned, your legs shaking. Rafe sped up his movements, rubbing your clit with his thumb and index finger while pumping his tongue in and out of your hole. Eventually the dam burst and you felt your orgasm wash over you as your legs clamped down on either side of Rafe's head.

You took a minute to come down from your high, admiring the sight of your boyfriend with mussed-up hair and your glistening slick decorating his face. Even while looking totally disheveled, Rafe was a work of art.

Rafe wiped his face with the back of his hand, savoring the rest of your juices on his fingers. "Always my favorite meal baby," he purred. "But now I need to be inside you. Turn around for me, princess."

You shifted your position on the bed so you were lying on your stomach while Rafe rummaged in his bedside drawer for a condom. You heard him unwrapping the foil packet and rolling the condom on before feeling the head of Rafe's cock teasing your hole. You let out a breathy moan, loving and loathing the teasing simultaneously.

Rafe held on to your hips as he pushed into you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. "Can't get enough of this pussy," he grunted. "So warm and tight f'me."

The din of the party going on downstairs faded away, and you could only focus on the sounds of sex occurring in the room: the duet of moans between Rafe and you, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin. A year ago, you couldn't imagine coming out of your shell like this. But now? Well—

"Gonna cum again, Rafey," you breathily blurted out, feeling your pussy clench down on Rafe's cock.

"Fuck yeah, princess, just come all over my cock," Rafe groaned.

Almost as if on cue, you felt your climax wash over you, and Rafe helped you ride out your orgasm before spilling his load into the condom. You had a fleeting thought about Rafe shooting his cum inside you instead, but you weren't quite ready for that yet.

You and Rafe took a minute to catch your breaths before he took off the condom and tied it up, tossing it into the wastebasket next to his bed. He rolled over on his side, enveloping you in his arms and burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Baby, you're incredible," Rafe murmured, kissing your shoulder.

You smiled, feeling light and airy inside. "Rafe, you're incredible. Thanks for being my scary dog earlier."

"I'm sorry, 'scary dog?'" Rafe repeated with a laugh.

"Scary dog privilege. It's something I saw on TikTok," you explained. "Basically it means that if you're with an intimidating-looking person, people will leave you alone because they don't want to mess with a scary dog. And seeing you be protective like that? It was pretty hot."

Rafe fondly gazed at you, stroking your hip. "Well shit, I'll be your scary dog anytime then, baby."

[prettyforwoso]

Shadow of Smoke

Part 1

Alexia Putellas x teen reader, Barca Femeni x teen reader

based off this request

summary: Exams are getting to the best of you. Isolating yourself from your friends and teammates, you find solace in substance.

MASTERLIST

You were getting closer and closer to punching a fist through your laptop screen every second. You usually enjoy studying, but not when it becomes mind numbingly easy and pointless, yet you still have to do it. 

Your neck is beginning to hurt from sitting at your desk for so long, you wish you didn’t have to do this stupid homework but it needs to be turned in by class tomorrow morning. 

Rolling back on your desk chair, you face the full wall window in your bedroom, looking over the Barcelona city sunset. Nothing beats this view. 

You had moved into Alexia's house almost straight away when you moved to Barcelona. Family was out of the picture for you, and living completely alone at 16 in a new country was an absolute no for Alexia. 

The two of you had met before, after the world cup semi finals, just as you got knocked out of the competition. Alexia and a few of her Spanish teammates were there. 

You were relatively new to the game, making your debut as an Aussie player only just before the world cup, but you sure as hell were not unknown. You had taken the world by storm. 

Alexia came up to you and introduced herself, as if you didn't know who she was. She complimented you, saying how well you played for someone so young and small. Quick into this conversation, Alexia clocked how shy you were, not able to hold eye contact and mostly only speaking when spoken to, alas, she quickly realized how sweet you were. The pair of you almost immediately getting along well.  

Soon after singing for the team. Alexia came to meet you at a private conference while still in Australia after the world cup. She quickly adored you, she saw so much of her younger self in you. So nervous and shy, so quiet, yet such a big personality. 

Your living situation was discussed at the conference, Alexia offered for you to live with her for a little while, until you got comfortable. A little while turned into forever the day that Alexia offered for you to permanently move in with her. 

Alexia’s house was kind of the group spot for the team, it was very rare that you and Alexia were the only ones in the house during the day. It was a welcome spot for everyone, and the team took advantage of that. 

…

Desk abandoned, you sat in front of the window with your laptop on your lap, trying to finish the last details of your essay. 

“Chica!” You hear Alexia yell over the music and chatter in the kitchen. “Come eat dinner” 

You sigh and close your laptop. Your feet find the floor as you walk towards your bedroom door. 

You make your way down the hallway, following the calm chatter and soft music that filled the living room and kitchen. 

You make your appearance, walking next to the stove top where Alexia serves you a plate. “Go sit with the girls and eat” She says as she looks down at you. Sat at the table was Lucy, Mapi and Ingrid, laughing amongst themselves. “No Alexia, I have to finish my essay” you plead, hoping she will let you eat at your desk. “No. You eat at the table, go sit” she says sternly, turning away from you to serve her own plate. 

You sigh and roll your shoulders forward, making your way to the table. 

“Oh there she is!” Ingrid smiles, looking at you taking a seat between her and Lucy . She presses a kiss to your cheek and Lucy messes with your hair. 

“Sorry. I’ve been doing homework” You look up from your plate with the explanation of your absence. 

“You’re such a good girl, I never did any homework in highschool” Mapi speaks up, making you crack a smile. That's so unsurprising.

“Don’t encourage that behavior Maria” Alexia drills into her as she takes a seat next to her. You roll your eyes and take a bite of the food. 

“What? I just copied my friends” Mapi says jokingly, earning herself a smack on the back of the head from Alexia. “Callarse la boca” the statement accompanies her action. Mapi rolls her eyes and laughs in your direction, winking and smiling. You look down and smile at her encouragement. 

“All this little one does is study” Alexia says after a silence, pointing to you with her fork.

“I thought you found school easy?” Lucy asks. 

“Yeah… because I study.” You say, Alexia gives you an unsatisfied look because of your tone of voice. You just playfully roll your eyes and get back to eating, keeping to yourself as the rest of them carry on talking.

…

The house gets quieter as you get into bed and crack open a book. Everyone is still there, but they have moved to the deep chat part of the evening, knowing that you will be sleeping, taking into consideration that you have school tomorrow.

You feel your eyes begin to close when you hear a gentle knock on your bedroom door. “Yeah?” you yell out, thinking it's Alexia. The door cracks open and in comes Mapi. “Hey you, I wanted to come say goodnight.” She speaks as she walks towards you in bed. “Ingrid and I are heading home” She sits and moves hair out of your face. Mapi leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It was nice to see you Chica, you should start coming out with us all soon”. 

You know deep down that she's right. Alexia is hard on you about your studies but you know that's just because she loves you and wants you to do well. She would always let you go out to have fun, sometimes even encouraging it, begging you to lift yourself from your desk to get out of the house and explore the new city. 

“I know, I will once I’m all done with exams” Mapi seems unsatisfied with your answer, a flash of sadness enters her eyes. “You’re doing a great job sweetheart. Really I mean it.” Her comment makes you smile and you lean up to kiss her cheek. “Thank you Maria” 

It means a lot to you, statements like that. Your parents are not in your life, they never really had been. So being told by someone that they are proud of you always makes you smile. 

…

You make it to training about an hour late because you had a class in the morning. You do part time schooling so that it can work around football and your professional career. This however, has come in the way of you really making many friends in the new city. You did have plenty of really good friends, but they were always at parties when you stayed home, so you weren't that close with them. 

You are deathly shy. Hating nothing more than the idea of introducing yourself to someone or meeting someone new. You were so quiet when you first started playing for Barca, even the team had to work together to get something out of you sometimes. You eventually warmed up however, revealing your big personality and ability to make literally anyone laugh. 

Training today seems like a step backwards in terms of your progression to confidence in the group. Walking into the gym all you said was a quiet hello to a few of your teammates. You were feeling so tired and overwhelmed from school and studies that you didn’t have the energy to have any kinds of conversations today. 

“How are you today chica?” Frido asks as you walk over to the weights where she is standing. You don't verbally answer, instead just press your head to her chest and take a deep audible sigh. Frido wraps an arm around you and pulls you to look up at her. “Tired hm?” she asks and you simply nod. 

This severe drop in energy hadn’t gone unnoticed to the rest of your teammates, all seeing you suddenly go quiet again, or straight up sleeping in meetings. They all had an understanding that you have exams at the moment, however, they usually don't affect you like this. They knew there had to be something else going on. 

It was true, something more was going on. You had been isolating yourself too much. With the desperate need for academic validation comes the lack of a social life and the act of socially withdrawing. Everything was moving so fast at the moment, studies were one of the only things you felt like you could control. You basically refused to go out with any of your friends when they would ask, and Alexia took quick note of this. 

Whenever she would ask, you would just tell her that you were feeling stressed with school and really needed to focus. She believed you to an extent. You have always been shy. She knew that you had been struggling to make friends at your new school, but you had made some and they seemed really genuine. It's not them she was worried about. There were other girls at your school that she knew didn’t make you feel at all welcome. These were the girls that picked on you and said rude things behind your back. You tried to reassure her that it was fine, and she acted like she believed you, but deep down she knew you were hurting, desperate to get out  and go to the parties you were invited to, but you were just too nervous. 

Those girls picked on you because you were so quiet. They called you all sorts of mean things that you pretended to not hear, more for your own comfort than anyone else's. 

…

The two of you arrived home just after lunch. You threw your bags down on the doorway of your bedroom and escorted your body to the shower. 

Water runs down your body in reflection. You stare down at your toes, inviting your shampoo to drip over your face. You close your eyes when the liquid attempts to make contact. Your hands are on your face, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to discard the soap on your face. Your eyes remain shut as you rock your head back and lean your whole body against the shower wall, keeping it in reach of the water that keeps you warm. 

Your vision breaks free as you crack your eyes open, seeing nothing but the fogged up shower glass isolating you from the rest of the room. 

You had been invited to a party tonight, one of those random massive group parties smack bang in the middle of the week- in the middle of exams. You weren't planning on attending- to say the least, but Alexia knew you had been invited and you knew she would encourage you to go. A small part of you wonders if maybe you should…

You hadn’t been to a party in weeks, maybe even a month or two. Your friends never fail to invite you, always wanting to make you feel included even when they knew that answer was always going to be a no. 

A knock on your door brings you out of your delusions. It’s Alexia- who else would it be. 

“Yeah?” You yell out, fighting with the volume of the water crashing down on the tiled shower floor. 

“Babygirl get the FUCK out of the shower, its been an hour” Alexia jokes. 

You groan, roll your eyes and turn your body to turn the water off. It was never a big deal when you had long showers. You and Alexia had separate bathrooms. However, Alexia would get worried if you were in there for longer than an hour, believing the hot water will damage your ‘Perfect baby skin’. Your eyes were consistently rolled in this household. 

…

You sit on your bed, wrapped in your towel. Wet hair meeting your back. You were hunched over looking at your phone, contemplating whether or not to attend tonight. Alexia returns to your room, sighing when she sees your posture, a correction she has made many times. 

“What is the matter?” You turn around, eyes meeting her voice. She stood in the doorway, looking lovingly stern. 

You don’t move from your position. “I think I might go tonight” Alexia's eyes widen and she physically looks shocked. “Wait really?” she asks, as if to double check before she continues. “I think that’s a good idea” She says, her accent beginning to struggle with her english. 

…

“You’ll be home by 12?” Alexia says, holding your shoulders, her face close to yours. “And you can call me anytime to come get you…I’ll be there” 

“Yes Alexia” You begin. “I have been to parties before” You say, cracking a smile. “I know, I just want to make sure you have fun” She said, tilting her face down and locking eyes, as if to question you. “Now come here, give me a hug before you go” You step onto your toes and press your face to her chest. “You look so gorgeous Bebita” she says, inhaling the scent of your perfume on top of your hair products. “Thank you Lex” you lean up to her and press a kiss on her cheek, soon heading out the door.

…

It’s loud and crowded here, not unlike any other parties. You greet a few people but hunt for your friends, trying to remain confident with your posture. 

Your face morphs into a smile when you find them outside, sitting around a fire with a few others. 

You hug and kiss them all, finding a seat squeezed between two of them, placing your hands out, hovering close to the fire to be warmed. 

Chatter and more chatter. The deep conversations around a fire, all sat in plastic chairs, were never anything but enjoyable. You weren’t uninvolved in the party, you were just at a smaller section of the party, and if anything, the main party was becoming the campfire as more and more people came to join, dancing around or just sitting and chilling with friends. You wondered why you always say no to this, you always end up having fun with everyone, you begin to regret the isolation you have put on yourself as you realize just how much you have been missing out on. 

You’re silent for a while, letting the others around you fill your conscious. You didn’t have anything to say, so you happily said nothing at all. 

The attention of your group is suddenly all on you as someone near you hands you a vape. “Hey, you want a hit?” They ask. “No, no thanks” You non-judgmentally decline, passing it back and waiting for everyone to move on with the conversations, but they don’t. 

“Go on, it won’t kill you” A friend of yours speaks, nudging your shoulder with their own. 

“Bro no, I’m an athlete” You say jokingly, smiling at the fact they think it’s not a big deal. 

“One hit isn’t gonna take away your spot” the one who offered her vape says. 

You think for a moment. Lots of teenagers do it, no one you know has ever got sick from it. And part of you knows they are right- one hit won’t hurt. As if Alexia would ever know. 

[sweeterthanficstion]

— coast2coast (pt. one) || l.s.k

pairing: life guard!leon kennedy x surfer!fem!reader

tags: surfing au! set in malibu, 1998, i wrote this with re2 leon in mind but re4 leon works too, featuring claire (and chris in later parts!), UNEDITED!! so far only fluff (unheard of...) i'll add as i go!

oh actually, my shitty attempt at knowing anything about surfing despite learning everything through youtube, google and malibu rising by taylor jenkins reid (what started this whole thing). i am NAWT a pro --- so if any of you guys actually know a thing or two abt surfing hit me up!!! i'd love to learn more!

summary: Summer is a fickle thing, sticky-sweet and fleeting, gone before you're ready. You've learnt to love it while it lasts. For you, every summer has been the same—surf, sand, salt-water tides and the hot Malibu breeze. But this summer brings a new sort of challenge, a spotlight your not so sure you're ready for, as well as a boy with golden hair, eyes as blue as the waves, and a way of making your heart rattle between your ribs like it’s desperate to break free.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: AHH HI! i'm so excited to post this one!! it's currently summer here in australia and i've been down at the beach nearly every weekend, so it was only inevitable that my fixation on surfer!leon came back full force. i have this big story all set up in my head, but i was too excited to wait to finish writing it so i'm posting it in parts!! ++ oh also i had no idea corral beach was an actual place in malibu so my version is fictionalised. just. take everything in this fic with a grain of salt i have no idea what im doing lol

i also thought it'd be really fun idea since i'm so busy nowadays, that if you guys are interested at all, you can send in little ideas for blurbs for surfer!leon, and i'd love to write them! i'll figure out ways to fit them into the story, just as little extras, but obviously no promises on writing all of them!! i'll likely just pick the ones i think fit best into the plot. i just think that'd be AWESOME!! <3

playlist⭑masterlist⭑AO3 ⭑ series masterlist⭑next part (coming soon)

California is exactly how you’d left it. Exactly how you remember it. Nothing has changed between the sand beneath your toes and the palm trees lining the scorching hot tar roads, their shadows stretching long and thin like sleepy cats in the afternoon sun. The salt-kissed air wraps around you, sticky and warm, a gentle reminder that time moves slower here. Or maybe it doesn’t move at all. 

That’s the thing about California. A time capsule—sun, sand and sky.

June, July, August, Summer melts in your mouth like a sticky popsicle, one into the next, so quick you forget what it tastes like before it’s even passed.

No matter where you are in the world, what waves you're chasing, whether it be in Oceania, the Pacific, the Atlantic, summer melts, fickle and eager.

You’ve learnt to love it while it lasts.

“Another fish and chips!” One of the waitress staff calls from the front—Bunny’s Seafood Diner has been around for as long as you can remember, a weathered little gem perched off the coast of Corral Beach, Malibu. A quick and convenient right turn off the PCH, it’s a lighthouse for road-tripping families and sunburned surfers chasing their next ride.

You flip the fryer around your wrist with a practised flourish, “On it!” You call back, before you dip the metal back in the bubbling oil, the familiar sizzle of golden fries accompanying the bustle of the late afternoon rush. The kitchen smells of salt and grease and the faint tang of fresh-caught fish, a scent so familiar it clings to your skin like a second layer.

Claire breezes past with lazy grace, bumping her hip against yours. “Heading to the surf after?” she asks, her grin as wide as the beach outside, like her mouth was made for holding sweet oranges on hot summer days. She’s balancing a seafood basket in one hand and a plate of fries in the other, weaving through the bustle with the ease of someone who’s done it a thousand times before.

“How’s the forecast looking?” You ask back instead, tossing the crispy fries into a basket lined with deli paper. 

“High tide in twenty,” Claire winks over her shoulder at you, side-stepping a counter corner like it’s second nature. “It’s gonna be perfect.”

You can’t deny that does sound perfect. After a shift as long as the one you’ve worked today, a surf might be all you need to feel alive again. You look back up at the foggy old clock on the wall—ten minutes left, five if you can sweet-talk your manager. You end up counting the minutes in your head, that familiar itch to feel the sand under your feet and the sun on your skin insatiable. 

By the time the clock hits four, you’re halfway out the door, ready to trade the smell of fried seafood for the briny tang of the ocean instead. Claire is hot on your heels, boards tucked under both your arms as she chases you across the tar road that burns under your bare feet, down the splintering boardwalk, and onto the powdered-sugar sands of Corral Beach.

The sun has already dipped far past it’s zenith, and the world feels washed in gold. Golden rays stretch out across shimmering waters, painting streaks of honey over the horizon, the heat settling into a balmy hum that sticks to your skin in a way you can only love.

You follow the shaded path of sycamore trees until the beach opens up to surfer’s paradise—a long stretch of sand, waves that swell and crash, aching to be carved into by hungry surfers. The path curves past a weathered wooden bulletin board, been there as long as you can remember, and you think it might be older than Bunny’s, if that’s even possible. 

“Wait!” Claire stops in her tracks, and you are helpless but to comply. Your eyes stay glued longingly to the beach while Claire’s squint at the array of flyers pinned up—some faded, some fresh. There’s a yoga class, a missing dog poster, and the usual surf report stapled to the corner, its ink smudged from damp fingers. But her eyes zero in on something bright and bold and new. 

“Here we go.” She plucks a flyer off the board, turning it toward you like she’s struck gold. The words Corral Beach Annual Surf Comp are printed in big, blocky letters, accompanied by a grainy photo of a surfer carving into a wave.

“Oh, no,” you groan, already shaking your head.

“Oh, yes,” Claire says, a grin spreading across her face.

Claire’s been singing the same song since you were fifteen and cutting through waves better than most kids your age here on Corral Beach. That you should be out there winning trophies and medals and 10k cheques instead of cleaning out the back of the greasy old fryer’s in Bunny’s. 

“C’mon, you have to do it!” She bugs on, waving the flyer around like some magic wand. 

You laugh, ducking under her arm as she tries to push it into your face. “Claire, come on.”

“I’m serious!” she insists, jogging to catch up with you as you head toward the water. “You’re out here every day. You’ve got the moves, the skill—everything they’re looking for.”

It’s not like you haven’t thought about it. You’ve been surfing since before you could walk. You’d grown up right here on Corral Beach, knew these waves better than yourself. You’d watched your parents chase waves like it was their religion—Bali, Costa Rica, Australia, it was their entire life. Something they loved that was inevitable for you to love too. 

“I’m just not the competition type,” you shrug, gaze drifting out to the waves curling in the distance. It’s not that you don’t want to—well, okay, maybe it is. The idea of standing out there, under the scrutiny of judges, crowds, and strangers, feels about as foreign as the first time you stepped onto a board. Surfing, to you, is about as religious as it is to your parents. An outlet, an art form, the ocean calms your restless soul when you need it most. Putting a score to something like that just doesn’t feel right.

“You’re one of the best surfers out here.” Claire presses, she does it so effortlessly. Poking and prodding, always enough but never so much as to push you over the edge. “Half the people in those comps are just there for a shot at a new wetsuit.”

You meet Claire’s gaze, hesitate, the memory of your dad paddling out at dawn or your mom teaching you how to duck dive flickering in your mind. “It’s not about that. My parents taught me how to surf before they taught me how to say mom and dad. They’d enter comps now and then, but it was never about winning. It was about the waves, the adventure.”

“And you don’t think that’s in you too?” Claire asks, raising an eyebrow as she shields her eyes against the sun.

“Maybe it is,” you say finally. “But that’s their story, not mine.”

Claire’s gaze softens for all of a second before she snorts, shoving your shoulder with her own. “You’re so full of it. You’ve got more talent in your pinky than most people out there. Just think about it, okay? It could be fun.”

You do nothing of the sort.

The second your feet are in the water, you forget all about the comp, all about your job and any other worries on your mind. Salt water seems to have that sort of effect on you. Wasting no time, both you and Claire paddle past the surf, straddling your boards in the ocean, watching as the other surfers before you take off one by one with each new wave that rolls in.

It doesn't take long before the first wave in a gorgeous set comes in, Claire’s all but primed for it. She takes off, gets into position, and pops up on her board, carving into it like it’s breathing. You follow suit as the next one comes in, and just like that, you fall into the rhythm of the ocean.

Wave after wave, you don’t stop until the sun is cotton candy pink, purple, gold. Most of the other surfers have dispersed by now, and Claire’s traded shredding the bigger waves for wading through the calm waters with her back pressed against the flat of her board. 

You, on the other hand, feel like fate is decidedly on your side. You watch as another set rolls in, the first crashing just out of reach. It peels exactly as you’d hoped, slowly to the right, so when the next one rolls in right after, you paddle with it, catch the feeling of the tide underneath you, and like it's simply second nature, get to your feet.

This is where you feel most alive. There is not a second to spare for the other noise in your head, not about the past nor the future nor anything in between other than right here and now. Nothing but the instinctual insistence of how much longer can you stay on? How much longer can you keep your balance? Lean left, right, forward. Better, longer, more, more, more.

And when you’ve finally completed your balancing act, you dance up to the nose, hovering there on the tip of your board, arms out to steady yourself like sails catching wind, and then you close your eyes and let the crash of the wave topple you off.

It’s only once you’ve resurfaced, board nowhere to be seen, that you realise you didn’t feel the familiar tug of the leash around your ankle. By the time you drag yourself to shore, breath heavy and hair clinging to your face, you see it—the measly cord trailing behind you, frayed and snapped clean.

You huff a sigh, not surprised. It had been old crap for a while now. So had the board, but it carried enough summers in its scars to mean something. A history you weren’t quite ready to part with.

Claire’s already gathering her things by the time you meet her on the sand, shaking out her towel and tossing it into her worn tote bag.

“What happened to your board?” she asks, her tone casual, but her raised brow suggests she’s caught the fraying leash.

You lift your ankle and let the cord dangle, the sad state of it all the explanation she needs.

She winces, offering you a sympathetic smile. “Ouch. Guess it’s finally time for a new one?”

It’s only when you’re halfway up the beach that you spot it again. Your board? Your board!

It’s leaning lazily against the base of a lifeguard tower, looking as though it had simply wandered off and decided to wait for you all this while. Relief blooms in your chest, and you call to Claire that you’ll catch up.

It’s only when you’re closer that you notice him.

He’s standing by the lifeguard tower, a red rescue can slung casually over his shoulder. Blonde hair catches the light, tousled and damp like he’s been in the water himself. His broad shoulders are framed by the white-and-red uniform shirt that looks a little too crisp for someone who spends their day in the sun.

You can tell he’s new. There’s a hesitation in the way he stands, like he’s trying to look comfortable in a place he hasn’t quite claimed yet. But there’s something magnetic about him, the way he surveys the beach with quiet curiosity, like he’s soaking in every detail.

And you don’t mean to stare, but you’re caught in the moment, the way he looks like he belongs there despite it all, carved from the same sun and salt as the beach itself.

You’re still staring when his eyes meet yours.

They’re blue, impossibly so, the kind of blue that reminds you of the water when it’s so clear you can see straight to the bottom, the kind of blue you could fall into and forget how to breathe. His mouth quirks into a smile—easy, natural, like he’s been doing it all his life.

For a heartbeat, the world shifts, tilts ever so slightly, like the two of you are caught in some half-remembered dream. Something stirs in your chest, familiar yet unnameable, like déjà vu soaked in sunlight. You freeze, caught like a fish on a line, just before his eyes crinkle at the corners, and he lifts a hand in a casual wave.

“Hey,” he calls out, his voice carries over the sound of the waves, warm and low, and you think there’s a hint of the coast in it—just not this one.

You blink, salt-sticky and sun-drunk, realizing belatedly that you’re still rooted to the spot. “Hey,” you manage, shifting your weight on your feet.

He doesn’t move, but his attention is all yours now, quiet and steady, as though nothing else on the beach exists, like you’re the most interesting thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“Nice ride out there,” he says, nodding toward the water, his voice dipped in easy admiration. “That last wave—you made it look easy.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, unplanned but genuine, a flush to your cheeks at the notion of being watched and noticed. You hope he mistakes it for sunburn. “Easy? You sure you weren’t watching someone else?”

“Nope,” he says, the smile widening just a fraction. “Definitely you. The board gave it away.” He says, nodding towards the board that’s still propped against the lifeguard tower like a loyal dog.

“Ah,” you say, realising. “So it was you.”

He shrugs, sweet and boyish in his sincerity. “Figured it deserved better than drifting out to sea.”

You glance down at your battered shortboard, the paint long faded from years of sun and surf. The edges are chipped, and the wax is uneven, but it feels like a part of you. “Thanks,” you say, meaning it. “Guess I owe you one.”

And before you can really think it through, the words escape you all at once. “You surf?”

“Not like that,” he hums, tilting his head toward the waves. Not like you. “Still trying to figure out how to make it look as easy.”

“That’s how it starts,” you say, a grin pulling at your lips despite yourself. “You’ll get there.”

He shrugs, a bit sheepish. “We’ll see. I’m mostly here for this,” he hefts the rescue can with a crooked smile. “Started lifeguard training last week. Figured I’d better get to know the locals.”

“Locals, huh?” You arch a brow, a subtle quirk to your lips. “And I’m one of those?”

“Definitely,” he grins, his voice sure now, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“Like this is where you belong.”

The words hang in the air, sweet and sticky like the heat of the day. For a moment, you don’t know what to say.

“Well,” you manage, recovering with a nod toward the tower. “Welcome to Corral Beach. Try not to let it chew you up and spit you out.”

He laughs then, and it’s warm, golden—like sunlight filtering through the trees. “I’ll do my best.”

He steps back, making space for you to collect your board, though his gaze lingers, like he’s reluctant to go but knows he should. 

“See you around?” he asks, the question carrying a hopeful edge.

“Maybe,” you say, the word feeling light and easy as you turn toward the parking lot.

You don’t look back, but you feel his eyes linger, and it leaves a quiet sort of thrill in your chest, like the first rush of catching a wave.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

[korpuskristae]

Verdict

Warnings: 18+, Smut, public sex, blowjobs, slight femdom, language, mentions of past injuries

Pairing: Fem Reader x Judge Turpin

Word Count: 2600+

Summary: Once Turpin's whore, you find yourself in the position of his wife, although with your new status as Lady Turpin, you find yourself still lacking the manners usually expected of a high-ranking Lady such as yourself. AKA: I had too much fun writing this and got carried away...

AN: I started tweaking at a concert I went to last month because the guy in front of me had long hair and a big nose... I have a type, to say the least... Anyway, I make do with my promises, even if it takes me three whole months. Requests are open, so feel free to drop something in my requests, keep in mind I write at my own discretion. Be wary of spelling and grammar errors! Point them out so I can fix them :) !!

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

In the eyes of Victorian London, Lord Turpin and you, Lady Turpin, were amongst London’s most unusual couples. Your relationship came not long after Richard lost his ward, Beadle, and nearly his life after a brush with Benjamin Barker, a lowly barber he sent away on false charges who miraculously, found his way back even after being sent to Australia to serve out a life sentence of harsh manual labor. Richard emerged from the events, not as the man London had once trusted implicitly, but as a man teetering on the edge of mania, grasping at what little fragments of sanity he had left. Returning to the bench a mere three weeks after his attempted assassination, the subjects of London couldn’t help but notice a change in their infallible judge. Almost every circle in London was whispering about the shift in the judge’s demeanor and it didn’t take long for the doubt of his competency to reach his ears causing his already harsh sentences to become even crueler and unpredictable, casting a further darkening shadow over his once-certain judgment.

 Most people expected everything to return to normal once the judge’s attacker had been brought to justice, after all, as a judge of the high court in service to her Majesty the Queen, he reserved the right to convict and sentence whoever dared to cross him, or the law. He was by definition, untouchable… Yet in the case of Sweeney Todd’s attempt on his life, it seemed that Lady Justice had already dealt her hand, taking Todd for herself, depriving the judge of the cruel justice he so desperately desired to feel in control. Spiraling further into a dark path of retribution that bordered on obsessive, Richard was a mere shell of the proud man he once was, seemingly falling further into the clutches of insanity with every passing day.

After being compelled to step back from the bench due to mounting public concern for his mental health and well-being, he was granted a month to rest and recover. One whole month—a dangerous opportunity to ruminate on his unexamined consciousness that Richard was not eager to take. By no means had Richard attempted to fix his wrongdoings, he was a bad man, an unjust, and cruel man who wielded the law as a weapon of his desires. He was a sinner, a liar, and a reprobate. He attended church only to enjoy the company of a whore the very next hour, he knew his life was one big contradiction. And still, he clung to the illusion that as a judge, he stood above the law and public opinion, he was a judge who answered to no one but himself, believing his actions bore no consequence beyond his own scrutiny.

 In the wake of Richard’s recovery from the attempt that nearly claimed his life, your relationship, and subsequent marriage, seemed to unfold at lightning speed. The fact that Richard had forsaken many a beautiful, and no doubt rich, highborn lady for you, irked the British aristocracy who were all throwing their daughters at the judge to have even a chance of marrying into the esteemed house of Turpin. It would’ve been one thing if you two were young lovers but your scandalized affair only grew more scandalous as people started to frequently draw attention to the fact that you had, practically, in the eyes of the public, not existed at all, prior to your engagement. 

The last woman Richard had shown any interest in was Lucy Barker, but even then, it was public knowledge he merely lusted after her, his longing for her was based not on feelings of love but ones of conquest and control, seeing her as a prize to be won. But his feelings for you seemed to stem from an unknown source… one that was less centered around himself and his personal motives.

In a society that prized status and reputation above all, Richard’s marriage to you, someone deemed “lowly” in the public’s eye, sent shockwaves through the cobbled streets of London. Unshaken by the public’s doubt of his choice of wife, Richard managed to pull out all the stops for your wedding, wasting no expense on the extravagant affair, with nearly every citizen near and far from London clamoring to attend the wedding. As guests observed the warmth in his gaze, they began to piece together a narrative that suggested genuine love that transcended societal boundaries. It wasn’t long before the public, hungry for scandal, sought to uncover the mysterious story behind your unusual romance.

The story given to the public was that you were one of the nursemaids who had so gracefully nursed him to back him to health, lovingly tending to him and eventually falling in love with him. While that story couldn’t be further from the truth, every tall tale had some grain of truth to it, certainly no nursemaid, granted, you did tend to him, in a much more… intimate way than originally specified, you two were indeed a rare occurrence of genuine love. Initially, you were just a contract—an arrangement for the night, a whore, to put it crudely. Once you, rather, he finished, you had noticed him wincing in pain along with the stiff movements of his neck, originally wary of the notoriously foul-tempered judge, you, strangely enough, found yourself hesitating to leave. Despite being expected to leave as soon as you two were finished, you couldn’t just leave him to suffer like that. This man, one who commanded London’s High Court with an iron fist now laid bedridden, his physical wounds matched only by a wounded pride. His growls and biting remarks about you staying to offer him help sounded more like thinly veiled pleas for help, revealing a side of the judge that he himself even resented, one that was weak. 

Not even half a year later you were the highly feared and equally esteemed, Lady Turpin. While the fear came from your husband’s reputation, you yourself were quite the opposite of him. Instead of intimidating people to get your way, you often made use of your snarky wit and cleverness, a trait that Richard himself found endearing and discovered proved far more useful from time to time when intimidation wasn’t a viable option. 

Seated at his bench, high above the court giving him the illusion of an almost godly appearance, Richard sat, tall and rigid. Dressed in his black robes, the long wig he wore—an obligation of his station—itchingly reminded him of the traditions he had little patience for. Leering at the people entering his courtroom he huffed uninterestedly. While his wife had managed to salvage his sanity and coax a flicker of gentleness from him, she could not penetrate the fortress he built around himself in public. Fixing his posture, he moved only to accidentally bump something underneath his bench with his knee, seeing you, his wife there, he glared at you kneeling between his legs. Smirking up at him with a lustful haze in your eyes, you placed your hands on his knees slowly parting them as you winked at him. 

Grumbling, he snarled at you without any real venom behind his words, “What the devil are you doing?”

Currently sat in front of a fully occupied court he had to preside over, you clearly had no sense of decorum when it came to respecting the authority that Richard had, slowly parting his robe at his waist, you placed your hands over his pants, palming his already growing erection. The ruthless judge, so quick to condemn others, quite literally, was nothing more than putty in your mere presence.

“Taking care of my husband, of course, you must be so stressed, huh? All those responsibilities… my dear judge, my poor, poor judge,” you purred softly, your fingers tracing languid circles on his thighs. The heat emanating from his arousal was unmistakable and he was clearly getting impatient but you ignored him for the time being keeping the tension high.

Growling lowly, he narrowed his eyes at you grabbing your hand and placing it on his clothed cock, “Do not play games you little minx, if you want to act like this then carry through with your teasing,” he demanded gruffly.

“Oh, my…” you gasped, feigning shock, “right now? Dare you disrespect the sanctity of this here court?” God you were such a tease, how was he ever expected to behave around you when you acted like this? So clearly reveling in your role as an unrelenting tease… if he was in hell, you were most certainly the demon sent to torture him till the end of his days.

Snarling at you, Richard tangled one of his hands in your hair, a firm grip that asserted control without causing discomfort. “Careful now, love. Keep with that insolent tongue of yours and I'll put it to far better use," he growled with an arch of his perfectly manicured eyebrow, his threat laced with a hint of desire.

Laughing lowly, you slowly dragged your fingers up his inner thighs before reaching his zipper and freeing him from the confines of his awfully tight trousers. Already rock hard, his cock was thicker than your wrist and his tip was an angry red color with a small bead of precum leaking from it, a testament to his undying lust for you. “So impatient and rude… you’re supposed to be a Lord, my love, one with manners who treats ladies with respect,” you chided dramatically not caring to whisper considering the courtroom was still settling in.

“Last time I checked ladies don’t terrorize their husbands multiple times a day for sex,” he grumbled letting out a low sigh of relief, feeling the pressure lessen on his aching cock. Eyeing you, he huffed in amusement as a smirk played at his lips, watching you blink up at him innocently. A little actress you were, one who was anything but what she pretended to be.

Grabbing his cock, you slowly stroked it, watching as his face contorted in pleasure, not explicitly as he was still seated in front of a room full of people, but enough for you to get the satisfaction of seeing him unravel slightly. Exhaling a long drawn out strained sigh, he spoke gruffly, evidently, trying to have some restraint. “What a naughty little thing you are, playing with your husband's cock so brazenly in a courtroom full of people…” 

 Running your thumb over the tip of his cock, you heard his breathing hitch and felt him cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over it lovingly. Letting out a small whimper, he felt you take him into your mouth and swirl your hot tongue around the edge of his tip, tasting his salty precum on your tongue, savoring its slight musky taste. “Yes, mhm… just like that my love…” he hissed, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he pushed you down further onto his cock, forcing you to take him deeper.

Letting out a strangled squeak, you glared up at him with a mouthful of his cock as tears pricked your eyes. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he teased slowly bobbing you up and down his girthy shaft.

 Hearing the thunderous boom of the courthouse doors opening, Richard glanced up to see the defendant being ushered into the courthouse by a guard from the jail. He barely glanced at the list of accusations before re-establishing his cold, detached expression. As if he wasn’t being serviced by his wife at that very moment.

Richard raised his eyes and immediately the court fell silent, making the usage of his gavel redundant. He struck it lightly for the sake of formality before he cleared his throat, resting his hand atop your head to signal you to stop your ministrations. “You are being charged with petty larceny and the garrotting of several women, what say you in defense of these charges?” he said, his booming voice reverberating through the courtroom, fixing a cold glare at the defendant. How dare he ignore you! Use you for his pleasure and tell you to stop at his own convenience? God, he was way too privileged!

Glaring at him, as you kneeled on the floor, your eyes flashed with anger and defiance, Richard, ever so oblivious didn’t seem to notice the anger radiating from beneath him. Ignoring his wishes for you to halt your movements, you started to bob up and down again, swirling your tongue around his shaft just the way you knew he liked it, feeling him throb against your tongue, you glanced up at him cheekily as he glowered at you. Consequences be damned, you were no convenience, and you certainly weren’t controlled by him!

Barely stifling a moan, Richard’s thighs tensed as he fought to keep his composure. Watching the defendant bow his head in defeat, he heard him profess his guilt, “I plead guilty and ask you for your mercy, your honor.” If he didn’t have a little minx between his legs he’d sneer at the fool in front of him for even thinking he’d be merciful. 

Feeling you take him deeper, he watched as your hand reached up to wrap around the base of his shaft to pump what you couldn't fit in your mouth, with his breathing growing ragged, he only hoped that nobody could see his very obviously flustered state. His grip on your hair only grew tighter as he tensed further, his muscles pulled taut as he felt his orgasm approach rapidly.

Realizing the entire courtroom was awaiting his verdict, he coughed, trying to cover up any of the obvious hints of his arousal, “The jury will deliberate and your fate will be announced at a later court date, this court is adjourned.” He said banging his gavel before watching everyone file out of the courthouse in confusion. 

The Esteemed Juge Turpin, widely revered and equally feared, had rarely relied on a jury—his rulings were law, laws he often wrote without deliberation. Murmurs filled the courtroom as the gallery began to question whether or not even Richard was second-guessing himself. The reason behind his stalling was, in truth, much simpler than what they suspected. Richard was merely just a pawn in his wife’s new uptaking of mischief and suffering the consequences.

After everyone filed out and left, Richard’s head fell back against his chair as you continued to suck him off. “You are so dead-” he groaned, not even able to finish his snarky comment as he felt his cock throb with his impending orgasm. With a strangled gasp and a deep guttural groan, Richard’s hips bucked into you as he came hard, his seed spilling down your throat in thick, hot, spurts that even you struggled to keep up with. After his orgasm subsided, you released his cock with a wet pop, the sound reverberating through the empty courtroom.

Slumping back against his chair, you watched with a satisfied smile as he struggled to catch his breath, his chest heaving. Tucking him back into his pants, you heard him hiss, his cock was incredibly oversensitive after that mindblowing orgasm no doubt. Standing up, you dusted off your dress, looking at him with a wicked smirk, “Hmph, what was that love?” 

Sneering at you with half-lidded eyes, Richard huffed, unable to punish you for the time being, “Your arse is going to be so red when I get my hands on you,” he rasped out, watching you saunter away. He was so going to get you back tenfold, despite his mostly playful annoyance, deep down, he couldn’t deny the obvious satisfaction he got from surrendering his control to you…

AN: First time writing smut, how'd I do? ;)

[highonmarvel]

Ribs

Bucky Barnes: Mob!Bucky finds you. 18+ only.

additional content warnings here!

CONTENT WARNING, PLEASE READ: This piece includes graphic depictions of domestic violence. Seriously, this is really dark; do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with explicit descriptions of physical and verbal abuse and rape. This is your warning. This is fucking dark. I can not stress this enough. I am fucked up.

Non Con Warning!

What’s scarier than dating Bucky? Leaving him.

You thought with dating the most notorious mob boss in New York, the biggest danger would be his enemies, no: the biggest threat to your safety was him. When you had first met him, you hadn’t known who he was, having only moved to New York a few months prior. He was charming, and he had an air of danger about him you couldn’t help but be attracted to; you thought it would be fun, a New York bad boy, he was all mysterious. You didn’t have any friends at the time, so no one could have warned you about who he really was, and by the time you found out, you were in too deep.

Maybe him being suspiciously rich should have raised a red flag, because even the most pretentious of the wealthy don’t take a limo to a bar, but he had, that first night you met him. The loud chatter had ever so slightly dimmed when he entered the bar, but you only thought it was because he was wearing an expensive suit, and though you rolled your eyes at the flashy display, you couldn’t help but stare at him as he made his way through the room—crowds parted, everyone tried to appear that they hadn’t noticed him, but it was crystal they had. You can’t not notice a man like that.

He disappeared into a back room with two men trailing behind him, and after a few minutes emerged looking slightly disheveled, but satisfied. You tried your hardest to focus on… something else when he sat down beside you and ordered a whiskey, but that was practically impossible when everything about him was magnetic. You chanced a look at him only to find him already staring at you, blue eyes twinkling with a mischievousness you couldn’t quite place and a small smirk. He had taken you home that night.

You hadn’t fled because of his business, selfishly, you could live with the fact he hurt other people—for a while, you could live with the fact he hurt you too, because he just had you captivated. He was harsh, brutal, but could also be loving, he bent over backwards to your every desire—say the word and he’d do it.

Except when you asked him to stop.

You had to leave New York altogether, you knew; he ran the whole fucking city, there was no way you could hide from him in the kingdom he ruled. You had struggled to pick where to go next, if you had had the money, you honestly would have left the fucking continent, started a new life in Namibia or Australia or Japan or however far away from him as you could get, but for now you were restricted to the States. Was Los Angeles too big a city for him to find you, or was it too obvious? Maybe he had people there, you had no idea. Would a small town be too quiet to scream for help, or so obscure he wouldn’t even think to look there?

You settled on a random town in Colorado.

You had ditched your phone the second you could—you had had to hold onto it a bit longer in order to get around, and received many calls and angry texts, but you had tossed it into a street somewhere in Oklahoma and picked up a random brick phone just to have. You thought you were being dramatic at first, taking all these measures, but no, James Barnes is the most powerful man in New York state, more powerful than you could have imagined when you first discovered who he was. He runs everything. He always gets what he wants, and he wants you.

I’ll find you you fucking cunt.

His last text message to you before you had destroyed your phone. You didn’t doubt he could.

You cut your hair, dyed it a shade darker, and spent the first month looking over your shoulder, jumping at shadows, barely speaking to anyone, unsure of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, even from so far away you remained cautious. Picking a job was difficult; if you got an office job, could he find out through fucking white collar records or something? If you got a job in retail, would someone recognise you and alert him?

You got a job at a bookstore—fairly quiet, and the rows of shelves seemed like good enough hiding places were he to hunt you down. Hunt.

In front of the mirror, you pull up your t-shirt to examine your ribs: the bruises are starting to fade, and there’s only a dull pain when you run cold fingers over the light blue. The final reminders of the night you had feared for your life, the night you had decided you had to leave, were starting to fade.

Bucky had gotten violent many times before, but never had you feared for your life; you genuinely thought he was going to kill you.

He had come home fucking livid like you’d never seen before, and three months later you still have no clue as to why. At least when he had been drinking his blows were slightly less hard and you were sometimes (very rarely) able to outrun him and lock yourself in a bathroom for the night, but that night he was drunk purely on anger.

You were genuinely surprised he hadn’t broken your ribs; just hit after hit until you could barely breathe—you thought you’d suffocate. Turns out he had fractured your right foot, but even still you left New York limping badly, knowing if you stopped even to just get it checked out, you’d never make it out the city.

Here, in your new town, you got your foot checked out and fixed up by a friendly doctor, Dean, who you’d taken a liking to. Though it was a bit worse for wear considering you’d left it unchecked for a week, and even now you still couldn’t walk quite right, he assured you you’d make a full recovery.

Dean and you had been growing closer, and you thought he would eventually ask you out, until one day he stopped visiting you at work—usually he’d come in every Wednesday afternoon, but he hadn’t, and you couldn’t reach him online. You even went into his practice, but his assistant had said he’d just taken a camping trip. Your stomach twisted, but you left it, and took he had just gone away for a while.

Deep down, you knew.

The third Wednesday afternoon Dean hasn’t dropped it. You walk back to your place a little down; despite not knowing him well, you were really growing to like him.

You sigh, kicking off your shoes as you enter your apartment and into the pile by the door. You turn on the lights as you make your way through the small place, still limping slightly: corridor, light on; kitchen, light on; living room, light on.

You can’t even say your blood runs ice cold, more like it freezes in your veins.

Bucky is seated comfortably in your armchair, of course nursing a drink, face entirely stoic, and eyes fixated on yours, as if he had been staring at that exact spot for hours, knowing you would fall into his line of vision.

But the door was locked, you want to cry, How did he get in? No windows are broken, nothing.

“Sweetheart,” he coos as he sets his drink on the side table, “I’ve missed you.”

“Why?” is all you can muster, barely a whisper, more like a nearly silent whistle in wind, one you can only hear if you were to really strain for it, and if you knew what to listen for. Why is he here? After three fucking months, you thought (hoped) he’d just lost interest—this can’t be the first time he’s had a girl run away from him considering how he treated you. Why is he so set on this? You can only imagine it’s stubbornness and pride, not wanting to lose a prize, no matter how ill he treated it. And why you?

Of course, though, you can’t articulate any of these thoughts, you can barely even think them, can’t process them, all turning to a light buzz in your in your mind, one that could be mistaken for pure static—just absence of thought. No thoughts, all thoughts, you can’t even care about.

“Of course I missed my favourite girl,” he offers, a lopsided smirk forming on his handsome features, “Sit,” he instructs, so gently you wonder if you’ve imagined it—a very direct order (and you know he doesn’t like to be disobeyed), yet delivered in the softest manner.

The bruises on the right of your ribcage sting as you stare back at him, unmoving. Bucky never repeats himself, and he doesn’t now, seeming to overlook your defiance (though really it’s shock) as he leans forward slightly and begins speaking to you.

“You’re a smart girl, I can tell from how you really tried to cover your traces when you left, huh? You’re a smart girl, so why would you do something so stupid?”

He stands, and you stumble back with a whimper at a harsh misstep on your injured foot.

“And now you’re out here all alone… you need someone to take care of you; look at you, honey,” he gestures to your foot, and if you could get your vocal chords to work, you would scream at him that he did this.

He stalks towards you, and where the sudden adrenaline comes from, you have no idea, but you dart for the front door. He’s on you in a second, slamming your head against the door and watching you slide down. He stands over you a foot on either side of your body and looks down on you, slightly amused.

He’s pure evil.

It occurs to you the front door is locked anyway, you’re caged under him in the narrow corridor, and so you try to crawl through his legs, but he turns and grabs you by your injured foot.

You shriek in pain and desperately try to claw forward, but he tugs you back and twists harshly so you have no choice but to turn over or risk him twisting your fucking foot off.

With more strength than you’ve ever mustered, you swing your left foot up and kick him hard in the crotch. He howls in pain as he drops your foot.

“You fucking bitch!”

You scramble to stand and dart for your bedroom, hoping to climb out the window. He limps after you, and you cry out as he grabs a fistful of hair and tugs you back. You manage to stumble into the bedroom. He grips the doorway and you slam the door after him, hearing a deafening crunch and a yell behind you. You push your back against the door, planting your feet firmly in the ground and trying with all your bodyweight to keep him out, but he easily blows it in, and you fall forward.

You start screaming at him and kicking, but he catches your legs, leaving you to only pathetically wiggle underneath him. He leans down and shouts, “Shut the fuck up!” bringing down a hand you feebly attempt to grasp to stop him, but he slaps you, “You’re a fucking cunt!”

You assume you’re crying, but you can’t feel anything on your cheeks but the sting of his hand.

He drops down to his knees and straddles you easily, despite your struggling against him. He punches you in the face, his rings leaving deep cuts against your cheek. Again, and again, and again, until his knuckles are bloody from the cuts he’s left. You attempt to cough but he brings a fist down and punches your throat. You can barely gasp before he grabs your neck and pulls you up close to his face.

His voice is dangerously low as he drawls, “You’re lucky I have the decency to fuck you on the bed.” He spits in your face and slams your head back down into the floor. He gets off you and, before you can even move, kicks you in the ribs; you can feel the bruises—the healing bruises, they were healing—bloom once again against your skin, against your bones. You roll over before he grabs your left arm, twisting harshly and pulling you across the small room.

You feel your shoulder pop out of place and scream louder than you ever have in your life, an intense white hot pain shooting across your shoulder as it’s dislocated. You can’t even beg him to stop through your sobs and unbearable pain, you can’t breathe, you want to throw up.

This time, you almost wish he does kill you. You wish for him to kill you.

He pulls you up onto the bed, your shoulder blade sliding further across your nerves and sparking pain as intense as the first few seconds all over again. He tosses his suit jacket to the side as you try to sit up. He presses down hard against your injured shoulder, and you choke on your own cry, suffocating more than screaming, at this point.

He punches up from your chin and your head lolls back, your teeth hitting each other harshly, before he uses the opportunity to grasp your throat with one hand, tearing your skirt off with the other.

It’s too painful to struggle other than weakly kicking your legs, which he effortlessly ignores, maybe he doesn’t even feel it.

Mind over matter, Mind over matter, Mind over matter—

You repeat to yourself when you hear him spit in his hand and softly groan as he runs his hand up and down his cock. You don’t even know when he unbuckled his belt.

You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing; Mind over matter, mind over matter, mind over matt—

He head-buts your forehead, effectively pulling you out of your attempted mental respite. Bucky is scary; he looks down at you with wild eyes, and you hadn’t noticed blood dripping from his temple. You briefly wonder how much blood you’re covered in when he interrupts your thoughts; “Stay with me, bitch.”

“Please stop,” you finally find words rather than shrieks, your voice hoarse and words slurred, like you’ve never spoken before.

He just smiles—smiles—and then thrusts into you, stretching you open, not giving you any time to adjust to his massive length before pounding into you, beyond rough, beyond violent, he’s a fucking mad man, he’s feral. You attempt to grab onto his shoulders and pry him off but your own shoulder hinders you. You weakly punch at him with your right hand, but he doesn’t feel it, and at this point, you’re just exhausted. Throat hoarse, head aching, shoulder burning, foot in pain, and your ribs on fire.

He lets go of your throat and feels around on the bed for his jacket, pulling something out of the inner pockets.

Before you can even process it, he places his other hand over your mouth and presses something cold and metal to your knee. He fires the gun, the bullet flying from the front of your kneecap, shattering the cartilage, and resting in your flesh. He presses down harder on your mouth so your scream is completely guttural.

“Try leave me now,” he pants as she shoots out your other kneecap.

He presses the gun to the right side of your rib cage, digging into the bruises, “Next time you leave me will be in a fucking body bag.”

Ribs (II)

✪

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

WILD CHILD KISSES

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem! Summary: Eddie's finally told he'll be graduating, but his spotlight is soon shadowed after a certain event is coming up. Warnings: mentions of drinking, flirting, tears, kissing. A/N: this is also kind of a warning, I am not American/ do not live there, therefore I do not know how your schooling day works, I have searched it up but there is no clear answer that will help me, so I shall continue to set it up the way my school does here in Australia, which is 2 periods, then 20 minute recess, then 1-2 periods, 40 minute lunch, then 1-2 periods.

buckle up, this is a long one. sorry. 7.3k

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Eddie Munson had spent the better part of the last three years sitting in this very chair, staring at the principal’s desk like it was some medieval execution block. He’d been here so many times he had the wood grain of the desk practically memorized. Detentions, lectures, warnings- all of it leading up to the same crushing reality year after year.

But this time? This time was different.

Principal Higgins let out a sigh, rubbing his temple like the news physically pained him to deliver. “Against all odds, Munson, it appears you’ve finally done enough to graduate.”

Eddie blinked. He was sure he’d heard wrong. “What?”

Higgins folded his hands atop his desk. “You passed, Munson. By the skin of your teeth, but you did it. You’ll be getting your diploma with the rest of your class.”

A slow grin spread across Eddie’s face. He slumped forward, pressing a hand to his chest like he’d just been shot. "you're fuckin' with me, right?"

Higgins cut him off with a dry look. “Language, Mister Munson, and no, it mostly came down to us wanting you out, but you passed, so"

Eddie placed a hand over his chest, right where his heart was and faked a tear, wiping it away with his free hand

"I'm flattered, Higgs, really-" he started before the older man huffed, rolling his eyes at the nickname the teen gave him.

"Yes, yes, now go to recess, boy"

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice.

He shot up from his chair so fast it nearly toppled over, practically sprinting out the door.

The lady at the front desk of the office looked up at the sound of the door slamming but she visibly relaxed when she saw Eddie's wide smile across his face as he almost skipped through the office.

"Farewell, Linda, you lovely old bat!"

The older woman gasped in offense as Eddie rushed past her, practically spinning her in her chair as he runs down the hall to the cafeteria.

He didn’t care that his boots squeaked against the linoleum, that a couple of freshmen nearly flattened themselves against the lockers to avoid being bulldozed. He had only one thought in his mind:

Tell Hellfire.

By the time he burst into the cafeteria, he was breathless, heart pounding like he’d just run a marathon. Quickly spotting his lost sheep at the Hellfire table, he smiled. The guys were mid-conversation, probably about their next campaign, when Eddie slammed his hands down on the table.

“Guess who's graduating"

For a second, silence.

Then, absolute chaos.

Dustin practically fell out of his chair, Jeff and Gareth erupted into cheers, and Mike started laughing like it was the greatest plot twist in history. Gareth, always the most dramatic, actually leaped onto his seat and threw his hands in the air. “WHAT? NO WAY!”

“I know!” Eddie cackled, throwing his arms up, “I thought I was doomed to haunt this hellhole forever, but lo and behold, miracles do exist!”

The guys pounded on the table, throwing their arms around him, shaking him with excitement. It was loud, ridiculous, everything Eddie could’ve hoped for.

And then, you.

You were smiling at him from across the table, bright-eyed, genuine. Like you were actually proud of him. Not just amused, not just surprised- but really, truly happy.

And without thinking, Eddie turned and hugged you.

It wasn’t like the one-armed, casual side-hugs he’d given other people. No, this was different. He wrapped his arms around you fully, pulling you against his chest, his heart still hammering in exhilaration. You smelled like something sweet- maybe it as your shampoo, maybe something you put on that morning. Either way, it was dizzying.

You were taken back at the hug, not sure where all this came from seen as though everything had been awkward between you today until now.

Your mind was tracing back to the almost-kiss yesterday, it made you nervous and weak in the knees every time you thought about it.

And believe me, you tried so hard to not think about it.

Arms wrapping slowly around his torso, you hugged him back.

For a second, it was just nice. Warm. Familiar in a way that made no sense.

But then it must have hit him. The tension.

His breath hitched, and suddenly, it wasn’t just excitement burning under his skin- it was something else. Something more dangerous.

Reality crashed down, and his arms stiffened. He pulled back, just slightly, just enough to put space between you both- but it was too late. The moment had already stretched just a second too long, crossed into something else.

You blinked up at him, still caught in that moment of pure joy, but it was already shifting. Already becoming something awkward.

Eddie swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands, what to do with himself. His voice came out rough, unsteady. “Uh… sorry.”

And then, before he could look at you again, before he could see whatever expression you were making, he turned away, rubbing the back of his neck like it never happened.

The Hellfire guys were still talking, still cheering, still high on the energy of the moment. None of them had noticed the weird shift between Eddie and you. But you noticed. He knew you did.

You were still standing there, arms now folded over your chest, watching him like you were trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Eddie didn’t want to figure it out. Not right now.

So, he did what he did best.

He played it off.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat, forcing a cocky smirk. “Who’s throwing me a graduation party?”

Dustin immediately started rambling about how they had to do something legendary, and just like that, the conversation shifted. The guys took the bait, launching into plans, joking about how Eddie had to go out with a bang.

But across the table, you were still watching him, your gaze unreadable.

And Eddie? He felt like his stomach was in knots.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t just trying to ignore the tension.

He was afraid of what it might mean. 

It made you wonder if he really meant what he said- what he admitted to, last night.

Did he like you? did he really like you?

The bell rang, cutting through the chaos of the cafeteria. Eddie glanced around, the guys still animatedly discussing plans for his "legendary" graduation party, but the noise felt distant now. He glanced back at you, still standing there, arms crossed over your chest, looking like you didn’t know whether to stay or go.

"Guess we better get to class," Eddie muttered, his words a little too casual, though his heart was pounding in his chest. He tried to act like nothing had shifted, but he could feel it. You felt it too. Didn’t you?

You nodded, but the hesitation in your step matched his, like neither of you was quite ready for what came next. You pushed your chair back, and Eddie mirrored your movements, both of you standing awkwardly, not sure if you should say anything else.

The silence stretched between you as you both started walking toward the door. Eddie’s boots clicked on the linoleum, his pace a little faster than normal. He didn’t want to rush, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t keep the anxious energy from bubbling up inside him. Every now and then, he’d glance at you- just a quick look, but long enough to see the way you quickly turned your gaze elsewhere.

And then, he’d steal another glance, the second one always a little longer, like he was trying to figure out if you felt the same tightness in your chest, the same unease that was gnawing at him.

"So… you're finally graduating, huh?" You finally said, your voice a little quieter than usual, like you were trying to convince yourself it wasn’t all just some dream.

“Yeah…” Eddie said with a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, his fingers trembling slightly. “I still don’t know if I believe it, honestly. It’s like someone’s pulling a prank on me, but… here we are.”

He was trying to make light of it, but the truth was, his chest was full of nerves. What if this- what if everything- was just him imagining it all? His mind kept cycling back to the moment you hugged him. That warmth, that connection, that feeling of having you pressed against him—it wasn’t like anything else.

But what did it mean? Was it just excitement, or was it something more? Was it possible that you felt the same way?

Eddie couldn’t keep himself from glancing over at you again, and this time, when his eyes met yours, his breath caught. For just a fraction of a second, everything in him wanted to step closer, to close the gap, but he held back. He couldn’t push it. He wasn’t even sure what ‘it’ was yet.

You weren’t looking at him anymore. Instead, your eyes were fixed straight ahead, but Eddie could see the subtle way your lips pressed together, like you were thinking about something, something important. He felt a pang in his chest, the realization that you might not be as sure about all of this as he was.

Your voice broke through his thoughts again. “I’m glad you are, though, took you long enough”

Eddie blinked, surprised. The way you said it, your tone so genuine, it made his heartbeat even faster. It felt like you were saying more than just what you meant, like there was something else there, something he had to pull out of you, but he didn’t know how.

He offered a small, sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Yeah… I’m glad too.”

There it was. That moment when everything felt like it was about to tip over the edge. Eddie didn’t know what to do with the way his pulse was racing, the way his thoughts kept spiraling back to you, to what had happened at the table, to everything that might happen next. What was he supposed to say? What if you didn’t feel the same way?

The hallway felt strangely smaller now, like the space between you both had been shrinking with every step, and Eddie had no idea how to fix it.

You were still walking beside him, your steps so quiet compared to his, but every time he glanced over, your eyes seemed to flick back to him before you quickly turned away. He could tell you were nervous, just as unsure as he was. And that made it worse, because if you were thinking the same things he was, then what?

He couldn’t just keep pretending like it wasn’t happening. He couldn’t keep pretending that every time you looked at him, his heart didn’t race.

The classroom door loomed ahead, and you both hesitated before stepping through, but Eddie didn’t want to stop walking. He didn’t want the moment to end. He didn’t want to face the reality that he might be the only one who felt this strange, burning thing between you two.

He followed you into the classroom, taking his seat beside you. There was still too much space between you both. It wasn’t enough to feel close, but it was too much to ignore. Every glance, every shift in position made his stomach twist in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

And every time his eyes met yours, all he could think was: Does she know? Does she feel it too? Or am I just reading too much into this?

You met his gaze once more, and for a split second, everything seemed to pause- his heart in his throat, your eyes wide with something unreadable. And then the moment passed, just like that, leaving Eddie both relieved and disappointed all at once.

He smiled awkwardly, looking away, trying to focus on anything but how badly he wanted to say something, anything, that could break the silence that was threatening to crush him.

But for now, neither of you spoke. And Eddie wondered if maybe he was the only one who was brave enough to admit it.

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Third period zoomed past, you and Eddie making a few comments on the work here and there, but it was mostly laid back as the end of school was only a week away, teachers slacking off and letting the kids do whatever.

The hallway erupted with noise as students spilled into the corridors. You and Eddie stepped out together, moving in the same direction toward the cafeteria. Neither of you spoke at first. You had walked with Eddie plenty of times before, but today, it felt different- charged with something unspoken.

The walls were lined with prom posters, bright colors and glitter catching the fluorescent light as you passed. PROM: A NIGHT TO REMEMBER! in bold letters, surrounded by stars and hearts.

You frowned at first, knowing that all these decorations were not up an hour when you entered this class. So, there had to be a handful of people to decorate every hall and corridor in an hour.

Prom, yes, everyone was already talking about, for at least 2 months now, but these decorations make everyone's eyes light up and smile-

But your stomach twisted. You could feel Eddie glance at you, but by the time you turned to meet his eyes, he was already looking away.

He was acting weird. But so were you.

Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag. Would he ask you? He had confessed yesterday, hadn’t he? It wasn’t a dream, wasn’t some drunken mistake. He liked you. So why hadn’t he said anything about prom?

You stole another glance at him, catching the way he ran a hand through his curls, looking everywhere but at you. The usual easy-going, over-the-top Eddie Munson was nowhere to be found. Instead, the boy walking next to you was fidgety, lost in thought.

And truthfully? So were you.

Maybe he doesn’t like me after all.

The idea had been creeping into your mind all morning. If he really wanted to go with you, wouldn’t he have asked by now? Maybe the almost-kiss yesterday didn’t mean anything to him. Maybe he regretted telling you how he felt. Maybe he just said it because he thought you needed to hear it.

You felt something heavy settle in your chest.

Eddie, meanwhile, was caught in his own storm of thoughts. He wanted to ask you. Hell, he’d spent all morning thinking about it, trying to work up the nerve. But the words never made it past his lips.

Because deep down, he knew the truth.

She wouldn’t want to go with me.

You were you, and he was him. The town freak. The guy everyone whispered about in the halls, the one teachers sighed over, the one the jocks mocked for sport. What would it look like if you showed up at prom with him? What would people say about you?

Besides, if you did like him- if you really liked him- you would’ve said something by now. Right? You would have said so yesterday, when he told you. You wouldn’t just sit there, waiting. You would’ve told him.

Which meant you didn’t.

And that was that.

So he stayed quiet, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as the two of you pushed through the cafeteria doors.

The Hellfire table was already buzzing with conversation. The usual chaos of lunch was in full swing- trays clattering, voices overlapping- but today, there was one subject dominating the table: prom.

"Okay, but hear me out," Dustin was saying, practically bouncing in his seat. "I think prom could actually be cool if they had, like, a real band instead of some cheesy DJ."

"You can’t even go, Henderson," Gareth pointed out, rolling his eyes. "You’re a freshman. None of us are seniors except Eddie and Jeff"

That was when Dustin’s eyes landed on the two of you. A slow, knowing grin stretched across his face. "Speaking of which-" he turned to you, practically vibrating with excitement. "Did Eddie ask you to prom?"

The words hit you like a slap.

Your heart leaped into your throat, cheeks flushing with heat. It was such a sudden question, so blunt, that for half a second, you couldn’t even react. Your eyes darted to Eddie on instinct, searching for something- some sign of an answer, some confirmation that, yes, of course he was going to ask you-

But Eddie wasn’t looking at you.

He was staring at Dustin like the kid had just lit a stick of dynamite and tossed it onto the table. His face drained of color, his mouth opening and closing uselessly.

"No!" he blurted, voice cracking slightly. "No, I-uh-no, I didn’t-"

He was stammering.

The breath you didn’t realize you were holding slipped out in a quiet exhale, and something cold settled in your stomach.

Oh.

The disappointment hit you harder than expected, like a weight pressing down on your chest.

Dustin, completely oblivious, laughed. "Dude, why not? You like her, right?"

You froze.

Eddie froze.

The table went quiet.

Eddie let out a strangled laugh, running a hand down his face. "Henderson-shut up." His voice was strained, panicked.

Dustin blinked, confused for half a second before realization dawned on his face. "Oh." His eyes widened slightly. "Wait, she doesn’t know?"

You felt your breath hitch.

Oh, you know, you just didn't know anyone else- the whole of Hellfire- knew.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. "Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath before turning to you, finally meeting your gaze.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. His confession from yesterday flashed in your mind. You knew he liked you. He had told you. So why was he acting like this? Why was he shutting it down like it wasn’t even an option?

The way he was looking at you- like he knew he just messed up, like he knew you were hurt but didn’t know how to fix it- made your stomach twist even more.

You swallowed hard, forcing a tight-lipped smile as you pushed your chair back. "I’m gonna grab some lunch."

Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.

You didn’t wait for a response. You just stood up and walked away.

You heard Eddie shift beside you, like he was about to say something, but he didn’t.

Because what could he say?

The noise of the cafeteria faded into background static as you moved toward the lunch line, your mind racing.

You had thought- hoped- maybe he would ask. Maybe last night meant something. Maybe he meant it when he said he liked you.

But now? Now you weren’t sure anymore.

And Eddie- Eddie just sat there, staring after you, hands clenched into fists beneath the table.

He wanted to go with you. God, he wanted to.

But he had a feeling he just ruined everything.

And the worst part?

He had no idea how to fix it.

By the time you returned to the Hellfire table, tray in hand, the conversation had fizzled out. The guys had sensed the shift in energy- how the excitement over prom had suddenly turned into something way more awkward-

And one by one, they had made their exits. Even Dustin, who normally lacked any kind of social awareness, had mumbled something about needing to grab a book from his locker before practically running off.

So now, it was just you and Eddie.

Alone.

He was still sitting in the same spot, hunched forward with his arms resting on the table, fingers tapping restlessly against the wood. You sat down across from him, trying to ignore the way your heart twisted at the sight of him- how his usual confidence had been drained from his posture, how his brows were slightly furrowed like he was deep in thought.

For a minute, neither of you spoke.

You focused on your tray, picking at your food without really eating. You could feel Eddie watching you, could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he struggled for the right words.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Uh- so- " He ran a hand through his curls, letting out a sharp breath. "That was… a whole thing, huh?"

You didn’t look up. "Yep."

Eddie winced at your clipped tone. He hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "Look, Dustin’s just- he’s an idiot, alright? He doesn’t know when to shut up."

You shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. "I don’t care."

Eddie blinked, caught off guard by how casual you sounded. He had expected you to be mad, or embarrassed, or something- but not this. Not this calm, unaffected brush-off.

"You don’t care?" He repeated slowly, testing the words like they didn’t make sense.

"Yeah," you said simply, finally looking up. "I mean, it’s not like I wanted to go with you anyway."

That was a lie.

But the words came out so easily. So effortlessly. Like they were true.

Eddie barely had time to mask his reaction.

It was quick- just a flicker of something in his expression, something unguarded and sharp, like your words had landed right where it hurt.

He covered it up almost instantly, forcing a chuckle as he leaned back in his seat. "Right," he said, nodding. "Of course. Why would you, right?"

You could tell he was trying to play it off, trying to act like it didn’t matter.

But you knew Eddie well enough to know when something did matter.

And this?

This did.

But you didn’t take it back.

You just smiled, small and polite, before returning your attention to your tray.

Eddie watched you for a moment longer, his fingers still tapping anxiously against the table.

Then, with a barely audible sigh, he slumped back against his chair, staring up at the ceiling like he had just royally screwed up.

Because maybe, just maybe, he had.

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The parking lot was loud with the usual after-school chaos- cars starting up, doors slamming, groups of students lingering to chat before heading home.

Eddie stood by his van, hands shoved deep in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. His stomach was a mess of nerves, though he’d never admit it. He had been waiting—hoping—you’d show up.

And then, finally, you did.

You were walking towards the buses, books hugged to your chest, brows slightly furrowed like your mind was somewhere else entirely.

He hesitated for half a second, then pushed off the side of his van, striding over to you.

“Hey,” he called, trying to sound casual, like he hadn’t been waiting for you.

You glanced up, a little surprised. “Hey.”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, uh, the guys are heading to my place. Y’know, to celebrate my miraculous academic achievement.” He smirked, tilting his head. “Figured I’d give you a ride.”

Your grip on your books tightened. “Oh- I, um- I actually have something to do.”

Eddie frowned. “What?”

You shifted your weight, glancing toward your car like you were in a hurry. “Yeah, I just- I can’t make it. Sorry.”

Eddie blinked, caught off guard. He had been so sure you’d come.

He forced a chuckle. “C’mon, what could possibly be more important than celebrating me finally getting out of that godforsaken school?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I just-”

“Please?” Eddie’s voice softened, and something about it made you freeze.

He wasn’t just asking. He was really asking.

Like he needed you there.

You looked up at him, at the hopeful, almost nervous glint in his eyes.

And just like that, your excuse- your whole plan to put some distance between you two- crumbled.

You sighed. “Fine.”

Eddie’s face lit up. “Really?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Munson. You win.”

Eddie grinned, stepping back and gesturing toward the van with a dramatic bow. “Then hop in, sweetheart.”

And God help you.

Your stomach flipped, your breath hitched, and for a second, the world tilted just slightly.

That stupid nickname.

He said it like it was nothing, like it didn’t curl around you, warm and teasing, making your heart stutter in your chest.

Like it didn’t make you feel dizzy in the worst- and best- way.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to play it off, to act like that one word didn’t shake you to your core.

And despite everything- the tension, the confusion, the ache in your chest from earlier- you found yourself smiling as you followed him.

Because, really, how could you ever say no to Eddie Munson?

The guy that's been driving you crazy as of late, the guy you can't get out of your head. It was nothing but unfair, really.

Eventually, the van rattled to a stop in front of the trailer, the familiar sight of Forest Hills mobile homes stretching out under the dimming afternoon sky. The drive had been… mostly quiet, filled with a comfortable kind of tension that neither of you had tried to break. The radio had been the only real sound between you, some old rock ballad playing low through the speakers, but even then, neither of you had been really listening.

Eddie pulled the keys from the ignition, glancing at you before shoving the door open.

You followed him up the steps, the screen door creaking as he pushed it open. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the familiar scent of coffee and the faintest trace of cigarette smoke.

And there he was, sprawled out on the couch with a cup of coffee in one hand, his other resting on his stomach. He barely glanced up from the newspaper at first.

Then he saw you.

And the absolute shit-eating grin that took over his face was so immediate, so smug, you almost took a step back.

“Well, well,” Wayne drawled, folding the paper and setting it aside. His eyes flicked between you and Eddie, like he already knew something neither of you were saying. “Second day in a row, huh? Should I be expectin’ you tomorrow too?”

Your face burned instantly.

“Oh- uh-” You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Eddie groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “Jesus Christ, Wayne.”

Wayne smirked, sipping his coffee like he wasn’t watching you both squirm. “I’m just sayin’- you never bring anyone over, and now suddenly I got a guest two days in a row? Feels like I should be puttin’ out another dinner plate.”

Eddie huffed. “She’s not- ” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Forget it. Can we not make this weird?”

Wayne just chuckled, but the teasing gleam in his eyes never faded.

Eddie sighed and flopped into the recliner, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, I brought her here so we can celebrate, old man.”

Wayne raised a brow. “Celebrate?”

Eddie leaned forward, his grin almost boyish. “I’m graduating.”

For a second, Wayne didn’t react. Just blinked.

Then, slowly, his expression shifted, the teasing melting away into something softer.

“Say that again?”

Eddie’s grin widened. “I’m graduating, Wayne. Like, officially. No more repeating senior year, no more Higgins breathing down my neck. I’m done.”

Wayne set his coffee down, staring at Eddie like he had just grown a second head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

And then, before Eddie could react, Wayne was up- clapping him on the shoulder, gripping the back of his neck in one of those rough, affectionate gestures only Wayne Munson could pull off.

“Goddamn, Ed,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “You really did it.”

Eddie laughed, leaning into the touch like he was twelve again and just scored a home run at some little league game. “Told ya I would.”

Wayne huffed. “You told me that two years ago, and I stopped believin’ ya after the second time.” But his voice was warm, proud.

Your heart clenched a little, watching the moment unfold.

Eddie was trying to play it cool, but you could see it—the way his shoulders relaxed, the way he ducked his head slightly, like that small bit of approval from Wayne meant the world to him.

Which, knowing Eddie, it probably did.

Wayne turned to you suddenly, pointing a finger. “And you- you keepin’ him outta trouble, or are you the one gettin’ him into it?”

Eddie cackled. “Oh, definitely the second one.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

Wayne smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

And just like that, he clapped Eddie on the back one last time before heading for the kitchen. “I got a couple beers in the fridge. You want one?”

Eddie grinned. “Hell yes, I—”

Wayne shot him a look before looking at you, to which you nodded slowly.

Wayne snorted but grabbed a couple of drinks anyway, muttering something about damn kids under his breath.

You just shook your head, sitting down on the couch while Eddie kicked his boots off and sprawled out beside you.

And for the first time all day, it felt like maybe- just maybe- things didn’t have to be so complicated.

Wayne handed each of you a beer, the cold condensation dripping onto your fingers. He patted Eddie on the back, a proud smile creasing his weathered face.

"Well, I gotta get ready for work in about an hour, so we can celebrate tomorrow, ay?" He glanced over at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "And I assume you'll be there too?"

You felt your cheeks flush, and you quickly looked down at your feet, suddenly finding your worn-out shoes incredibly fascinating.

"Wayne—" Eddie began, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

But his uncle cut him off with a chuckle. "—so that's a yes?"

You couldn't help but feel the flutter in your chest at the idea of being invited to another hangout, but it left you a little nervous, too.

Eddie sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We'll see, Wayne. Don't scare her off before then."

Wayne laughed, clearly enjoying the moment. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you kids to it."

As he walked away, you dared to glance at Eddie. He met your eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. The air between you both felt thick with the unspoken.

"Sorry about him," Eddie muttered, his tone more sheepish than usual.

You shook your head, offering him a soft smile. "It’s alright. He’s... nice."

Eddie returned your smile, and for a brief moment, the world outside the trailer seemed to blur. There was something warm in the way he looked at you, like you mattered to him. But before it could linger too long, he cleared his throat.

"Wanna go to my room?"

You nodded. "Sure."

Eddie led the way, his boots echoing in the narrow hallway. His room came into view, posters of bands covering the walls, and an old guitar standing proudly in the corner. You stepped inside, your eyes scanning the space. It was exactly how you'd imagined-

Chaotic and full of character.

You stopped just inside the door as Eddie turned to face you, but before either of you could speak, Wayne's voice cut through the air from the kitchen.

"Better keep that door open!"

You and Eddie exchanged confused glances.

"Why?" Eddie asked, his tone laced with annoyance.

Wayne leaned against the doorway, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Don’t pretend what I walked in on you two doing yesterday didn’t happen. I don’t wanna be a grandpa just yet, boy."

Your heart jumped in your chest, your face burning with embarrassment. "We didn’t-"

Eddie’s face turned a deeper shade of red, and he cut you off. "Jesus, Wayne! Nothing happened!"

Wayne laughed, enjoying the discomfort he’d caused. "Just messing with ya. But seriously, door stays open."

Eddie rolled his eyes and led you into his room, leaving the door ajar as Wayne insisted. As soon as you were inside, Eddie dropped his backpack onto the floor with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry about that," Eddie muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Still think he's nice?"

You laughed, trying to shake off the awkwardness. "Yeah, He's alright"

Eddie collapsed onto his bed, stretching out with a groan as he kicked off his Reeboks. You hesitated for a second, standing in the middle of his room.

The silence between you was comfortable at first, but soon, you felt it shift. The questions you both had about each other lingered in the air.

Eddie finally broke the quiet, his voice low and thoughtful. "so...about yesterday."

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you turned to look at him, a little nervous. "What do you mean?"

Eddie rolled over onto his side, propping himself up with one arm. His eyes flicked to you, and his gaze softened. “I mean... I’ve never really been good at this whole ‘being honest’ thing. But with you? I don’t know, it’s different. I keep thinking about it—about what happened between us, what it means. And it’s weird, but in a good way."

Your heart beat faster, the uncertainty clouding your thoughts. Could he really be saying what you thought he was saying?

Eddie laughed softly, rubbing his face in frustration. "I’m not good at this. But I don’t want you to think I’m just..." He stopped himself, looking over your frame from where you stood

"do you wanna sit?" he patted the spot on his bed beside him, shuffling over.

You looked around before slowly stepping to his bed, shuffling to the wall beside him, when you look up to come face to face, you shuffle away, not realising how close you became.

Clearing your throat, you mumble an apology, but he only stares at you, his eyes soft and warm as he smiles, his dimples on display as he fiddles with his rings.

Your gaze followed down to beside him, where a fluffy brown bear sat lopsided on his pillow.

You smiled and leaned over him.

His breath hitched when he followed over every curve of your body the way your ass stuck in the air and the way your shirt revealed cleavage so dangerous that he had to close his eyes, a cold sweat breaking out as you leaned away to sit back down

"Is this Ozzy?" you beamed brightly when Eddie opened his eyes.

He frowned for a second "how do you know that?"

Eddie never tells anything that personal to anyone- especially you, why would he tell you he still sleeps with a stuffed teddy bear and has a name for him?

With a raised eyebrow you laughed softly "on our da- at the fair... I told you I had a few teddys and you told me you had one"

You played with the worn-out bear in your hands and Eddie felt his heart explode in his chest. He remembers it, and he curses himself for forgetting

"right, yeah" he nodded slowly

"S'pretty worn down" you mumbled, examining the bear

The teddy bear looks like it's been loved for years, its once soft fur is now matted and thin in some places, with patches of faded color. The edges of its ears are frayed, the stitching barely holding on in places where it’s been hugged too tightly over the years.

The eyes are scratched, losing some of its glossy shine. The bear’s nose, once a neat little button, has worn down into a faded stitch, barely visible. Its limbs, though still stuffed, are soft and floppy, having lost the firm structure they once had. the bow around its neck stained and ripped. There’s a small tear on its side, the fabric worn thin, but it’s been lovingly stitched back together- a sign of years of comfort, care, and maybe a few bumps along the way.

Despite the wear, it still carries that comforting, familiar scent of childhood- a mix of dust, warmth, and a little bit of home.

Eddie chuckled lowly "yeah...well, s'about fifteen years old so..."

"Mm. Ozzy hasn't been making music for that long, though" you pointed out

"Yeahhh. I only named him when I was...thirteen?" he smiled, looking and loving the way you handled him with care "don't know... Mum tried to think of names but...none of them really felt like him..."

You looked over at him, finding his gaze stuck on the teddy, eyes hung low, rested.

"So, your mum gave him to you?" You spoke, handing it to him.

He smiled, nodding, letting the bear sit in his lap as he brought his knees up.

"yeah...she saved up for months to afford him...she tried to make that birthday so special...I remember dad getting mad when I opened it, he didn't want her spending so much money of a stupid gift for 'girls'" he laughed humourlessly.

"but it was one of the best gifts I've gotten ever...mum always treated us like brothers because that's what I wanted her to do...dad thought it was stupid though; he hid him for about 2 months before mum found him and gave him back..."

When the first tear fell you rushed to brush it away gently. He shook his head, putting the bear beside him as he cleared his throat.

With a sip of his beer, he sighed, leaning his head on the wall as he looked forward.

The room was silent for a few moments. You take the time to look around the room, really look.

The Corroded Coffin banner above your head and the pictures that look like they have been ripped out of a magazine scattered on the walls. Clothes piled in the corner of the room, random trinkets all over the floor, it was so Eddie.

He sat up with a groan, going to his CD collection in his desk, right below his guitar that's hung up against his mirror "music?"

With a quick nod, you looked at the options he handed you. finding a bunch of covers that look straight out of a horror film, but your eyes wandered to the orange and yellow CD, one that looks familiar and frowned

"I know Metal freaks you out" he chuckled lightly "but it's the only music I have"

You remember, the music store where you had been caught looking at that exact album.

He saw your gaze on W.A.S.P the last command and smiled "still fascinated by it?"

Before you could respond, he placed the disc in the player and the blasting of music came on.

The first notes hit, and your chest tightened instantly. It was loud- the kind of loud that filled every inch of space, that crawled under your skin and took over your heartbeat.

The guitar riff tore through the air, sharp and reckless, and when the drums kicked in, you swore you felt them in your ribs. The sheer force of it had you frozen, your hands gripping the edge of Eddie’s bed as if the sound alone might knock you back.

Then the voice came in.

"I ride, I ride the winds that bring the rain…"

Your breath caught, pulse stuttering. The way he sang- gritty, hungry, like every word was bitten off with sharp teeth. You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as you listened.

Eddie was watching you.

You felt it before you even turned your head. He was leaning back, one arm draped over his knee, the other lazily tapping a rhythm against his thigh. His rings caught the dim light of the room, glinting as his fingers moved.

But his eyes?

His eyes were on you.

"A creature of love and I can’t be tamed…"

Heat crept up your neck, a flood of goosebumps creeping their way onto your skin.

You weren’t sure if it was the song or the way Eddie looked at you, but something in your stomach flipped, twisting tighter with every second.

The chorus hit, bursting through the speakers like a wildfire.

"I’m a wild child, come and love me…"

Your hands clenched into fists.

It was so blatant, so bold, like the song wasn’t even trying to hide what it was about. It wasn’t sweet, wasn’t careful- it was raw, unashamed, hungry.

And Eddie was still watching you.

His gaze flickered, his lips twitching into something almost knowing. Like he could see the way your fingers curled in your lap, like he knew exactly what kind of effect the music was having on you.

You tore your eyes away, staring at the stereo instead.

"I need you to touch me… ‘Cause I want what you do to me…"

You exhaled shakily.

It wasn’t just the lyrics. It was the way the guitars screamed, the way the drums crashed like a thunderstorm, the way every single note was laced with something untamed and electric. It sent shivers down your spine.

And the worst part?

You liked it.

Eddie leaned in slightly, voice barely loud enough to hear over the music.

"Not so bad, huh?"

You swallowed, your throat dry.

He was close- closer than before. You could feel the warmth of him, the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne and something else uniquely Eddie.

Your heart pounded.

You turned your head slowly, meeting his gaze again. He was grinning now, lazy and pleased, like he could feel your nervous energy crackling in the air between you.

You had no idea if he was thinking about the song’s lyrics. If he was thinking about how they fit.

But you were.

As the song swelled, the raw, electric energy filled the small room, pressing in on you from all sides. The words pulsed in your veins, the heavy beat vibrating through your bones.

"I’m a wild child, come and love me… I want you…"

Eddie was still watching you.

Your heart was racing. Not just from the music. Not just from the way it shook the walls and the floor beneath you. But from him. From the way he was looking at you- eyes half-lidded, like he was memorizing every part of this moment.

You could barely breathe.

And then, as the chorus hit again, as the song begged and burned, you turned your head just as he did.

Your noses brushed.

For a split second, neither of you moved. Just hovered there, inches apart, the music crashing around you, your breaths uneven.

Then Eddie whispered, "Sweetheart..."

You didn’t think. You just moved.

Your lips met his- tentative, hesitant- But as soon as you felt the warmth of his mouth, the way he sucked in a sharp breath, you knew there was no stopping it.

Eddie made a noise in the back of his throat- something between a groan and a sigh, relief and desperation tangled together. His hand lifted, fingers tangling in the back of your hair as he pulled you closer, deepening it.

The song roared around you.

"A naked heat machine, I want your love!"

Your stomach flipped as his lips moved against yours, slow but sure, like he’d been waiting for this. And God, maybe you had too. Maybe that’s why it felt so dizzying, so right.

You kissed each other like you were both afraid it wasn't real.

When you finally broke apart, you opened your eyes.

And you found that you weren't kissing him.

Instead, you were in his van, music blaring in your ears as he drove you to his trailer, talking about his graduation party, and you? you were imagining kissing him for the 100th time this evening.

God, you're so hooked screwed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Ha. you really thought? sorry.

Taglist:

Taglist:

@exploding-bonbon  @xlostitx  @pupwrites  @carolineesnell  @foreveranexpatsposts  @itsmadamehydra  @thedoubleexposurephotography  @g3n3zshack  @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable  @emxxblog  @nubedeoctubreval  @bimboshaggy  @sheneedsrocknroll92  @callmytherapistplease-blog  @ifeelbadbutimhot  @littlemissholy  @sammybrrr  @alastorssimp @e-c-a-r-l-a-t-e

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

[meazalykov]

independent

trinity rodman x rodman!reader

part two - part one here

summary: you've gained, and you've lost

warnings: angst, and forgiveness

months passed by in silence between you and trinity. 

national breaks came and went on the uswnt, but the tension between you two lingered like a shadow, a constant reminder of the distance—both physical and emotional—that had grown between you. 

the once unbreakable bond felt broken, each encounter on the pitch with the uswnt tingled with an awkwardness that neither of you had the courage to confront.

you avoided eye contact with the older twin during training, focusing on the drills and the game plans, while trinity did the same with you. it was easier that way, less painful. but the avoidance left a hollow feeling in your chest, a nagging regret that you couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried to bury it. 

each time you caught a glimpse of trinity across the field,or when you had to make a pass to her up the field– you felt the ache of what used to be—a closeness that now felt like a distant memory. 

the silences between you were noticed by the team, and the unspoken words weighed heavily on your heart. however, the team decided to not get themselves mixed up in family business. 

now, the olympic games were supposed to be the pinnacle of your career, and in many ways, they were. 

you played your heart out, having the most assists in history. each goal, except for korbin’s goal against australia, had you as the assist-ant. contributing to the team’s journey to the final with everything you had. 

even as you stood on the pitch, in the starting lineup with your sister against brazil– knowing you were just a game away from olympic gold, the thought of trinity weighed heavily on your mind. 

this was what you’d worked so hard for, yet the victory felt incomplete without sharing it with her. 

would she want to share it with me? you’d thought. 

the pressure was immense, and while your teammates cheered and encouraged you to be the playmaker, the absence of trinity’s support gnawed at you.

when the final whistle blew, signaling your victory and the uswnt’s fifth gold medal, you were swarmed by your teammates. 

cheers, tears, and hugs from mallory, naomi, and sam surrounded you, but there was still an emptiness inside. 

you glanced around, searching for trinity in the sea of jubilant faces, and when your eyes finally met, time seemed to freeze. 

the celebrations around you blurred into the background, and all you could see was the distance in trinity’s eyes, a distance that had grown over the months of silence.

trinity was standing a few feet away, holding onto alyssa with a bright smile on her face. however, her eyes showed a hint of sadness. 

she looked back at alyssa, and you looked back at sam coffey who screamed in joy. 

the next time you look at her is after the gold medal ceremony. you took your pictures, individually and with some of your teammates. 

now, many photographers begged to get you and trinity in a picture. unaware of the broken bond between the both of you. 

she looks over at you with her gold medal, her expression unreadable. you both hesitated, as if an invisible wall still stood between you. 

but with the world watching, there was no more running away. the weight of the moment pressed down on you, and you knew that this was it—the moment where everything would either begin to heal or break completely.

slowly, you approached each other, the roar of the crowd fading into the background. you stood there, gold medals around your necks, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air. your heart pounded in your chest, and you swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to break the silence that had held you captive for so long.

she wrapped her arm around your waist and you did the same to her, a bright smile on your face as if everything was okay. 

once the cameras went away, you broke. 

“i’m sorry, trin,” you blurted out, the words rushing out of you before you could stop them. 

“i’ve missed you so much, and i hate that we haven’t talked. i don’t like you being mad at me.”

trinity’s eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the same sister you’d grown up with, the one who had always been by your side. 

“i missed you too, y/n,” she admitted, her voice barely audible over the loud noises around you. 

“i was so angry, but more than that, i was hurt. i didn’t know how to deal with you being gone.”

“i know,” you whispered, taking a shaky breath.

“it’s been so hard being away from you, and i hate that it happened like this. but i love playing at barcelona, trin. it’s everything i dreamed of. jana and esmee have became some of my bestest friends on the team– i have a girlfriend too finally! salma is her name, i was hoping you’d get to meet her today but spain didn’t make it unfortunately.”

to your surprise, trinity smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. 

“i’m really happy for you, y/n. i’ve been following your games, even if i didn’t say anything. i saw you win the champions league...  and what the fuckkk that goal from you in the beginning of the second half was incredible. i should’ve congratulated you earlier, i’m so sorry.”

you blinked back tears, a mix of relief and guilt washing over you. “thank you, trin. i’ve wanted to talk to you for so long, to tell you everything that’s happened, but i didn’t know how. talking through imessage or facetime wouldn’t do us any justice.”

trinity nodded, her smile fading slightly as she looked at you with a seriousness that made your heart clench. 

“i guess we both needed time to figure things out. but i don’t want to lose you, y/n. you’re the closest person in my life, and i’m proud of everything you’ve achieved. olympic gold, champions league... you’re the next big thing, you know that?”

you laughed through the tears, shaking your head. “says you! you’re the reason why we made it here– but i don’t feel like the girl who’s won these competitions. i just feel like your little sister who misses her twin.”

trinity pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close as if she’d never let go. 

“you’re always going to be my sister, no matter what you achieve or even if you’re across the pond. i’m proud of you, y/n. and i’m sorry for how things went down between us. i should’ve been happy that you’re playing at your dream club.”

“i’m sorry too,” you whispered into her shoulder, feeling the weight of the past few months finally lifting. “but we’re here now, and we have gold!”

as you stood there, wrapped in your sister’s embrace, the world seemed to right itself again. the distance between you was closed.

after a few moments, trinity pulled back slightly, looking at you with a newfound determination. “we’re going to be okay, you know that, right? this distance... it won’t break us. it can’t this time.”

you nodded, feeling a sense of reassurance that had been missing for so long. 

“yeah, we will. and maybe... maybe we needed this. to grow, to understand each other better while having our own lives. but i don’t want to go through this again, trin. i need you in my life, no matter where we are.”

“same,” trinity agreed, her voice firm.

“no more avoiding each other.”

you squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth of her grip, the familiar connection that had always been there, now stronger than ever. “deal.”

“i heard about the new boyfriend, the one with your name. i have to meet him sometime– you know, just to approve of him.” you comment. 

“the same way i’ll have to meet salma someday.” 

hope you enjoyed <3

my master list is here if you want to read more fics!

[pinkiemachine]

GOTHAM FILES: SEASON 5

JASON TODD IS ALIVE!!!

Ra’s Al Ghul has brought him back to life and intends to give him back to Bruce as a reconciliation gift. The only thing is, the Lazarus Pit can have… interesting effects on people, especially when bringing them back to life. In Jason’s case, he comes back with a serious case of brain fog, with some slightly psychotic tendencies. Ra’s can’t return Jason like this, so he spends the next few months rehabilitating the boy and training him with the League. He’ll be such a fine warrior, not only will Bruce be getting his protégé back, but he’ll be in better shape than when he died. Little by little, though, Jason is beginning to come back to his senses, his memories return, and he begins to question where he is and what he’s doing. This isn’t right… where’s Bruce? Where’s Alfred? Why isn’t he in Gotham anymore? In a panic, somewhat brought on by the side effects of the Pit, Jason escapes the League of Shadows and winds up totally alone, totally lost in West Asia, trying to get back home. The League of Shadows goes after him, and he has to outrun them any way he can, and after a long, harrowing adventure where he jumps all around Asia, South-East Asia, and Australia, he is finally on the fast track to getting back to the States and Gotham. He’s thrilled to be back home, but the first thing he sees when he looks at the news… is Batman… and a new Robin… saving the city. He heads to the Manor to see for himself and finds Tim Drake sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms. There’s still some Lazarus Madness in his head, so he doesn’t take this so well at first. It gets worse when he realises that Joker is still alive. Batman never avenged him. Cue the events of “Under the Red Hood” where Jason takes down a gang of thugs, takes the identity of their leader, “The Red Hood,” and starts tearing up Gotham, looking for Joker, while simultaneously poking Bruce at every available opportunity. And then, when the truth is finally revealed about who Red Hood is, Ra’s shows up and tries to be all, “Look! I brought Jason back for you! Surprise? Heheh… now come marry my daughter.” And Bruce is like…. “No.” Ra’s warns him, though, that if he doesn’t join him now, he’s going to be in for a few surprises soon. He still refuses. Ra’s slinks off back to the Shadows.

Anyway, the point is, Bruce is confronted by Jason regarding Joker. Jay doesn’t hold a grudge against Bruce for not being able to save him—it was Jason’s own fault that he wound up that situation in the first place—but what he is ticked about is the fact that Joker’s still alive, and, well, to a lesser extent that he’s been kinda replaced, but it’s mostly the Joker thing. But since Jason isn’t Robin anymore, he’s not playing by Batman’s rules. He’s going to do what Batman couldn’t, and be the hero Gotham really needs. He’s going to end the Joker once and for all. Bruce tries to stop him. Killing isn’t the answer. It’s a quick fix, but it’s no guarantee that another Joker won’t pop up tomorrow, and worse… Bruce isn’t prepared to lose what’s left of his humanity. He’s traveling a dark enough path as it is. He refuses to let himself fall further and become the very thing he hates. He doesn’t want that for Jason either. In the end though, due to Bruce and Jason fighting, Joker gets away (he does wind up getting hurt bad enough that he loses sight in one eye, though), and Bruce begs Jason to come home. He’s just so immensely relieved to see him alive! But Jason… he’s not the same kid he was when he went under. He’s not Bruce’s Robin anymore and he still plans on killing Joker. It’s time they parted ways. For good.

So, yeah, the falling out part is real sad… and everyone’s brooding over what happened, and Dick even tries to find and talk to Jason, but that doesn’t help. It looks like Jay’s not ever going to be part of the BatFam again… until this happens:

Jason is rightfully ticked at Bruce, but they can shelve that long conversation for a later date. Right now they’ve gotta MOVE if they want to get Tim home alive. Everyone gets called in, Nightwing, Batgirl, Spoiler, even Starfire shows up, as she and Dick have been dating for a while now. Joker’s come up with a real twisted scheme this time, one that really throws the crew for a loop as they try to figure it all out, and Joker nearly has enough time to psychologically torture Tim (giving the Batman: Beyond film flashbacks!) but before Tim can be all twisted up into mini-Joker, his team arrives and they save him just in the nick of time!

Jason is ultimately the one to grab him, and in a way he confronts his own trauma by sparing Tim from a similar fate. This is how they bond and become one of the closer pairs in the BatFam. Jason really kicked into “Protective Older Brother Mode.”

After that scare, Batman keeps Jason from killing Joker and he’s instead locked up tight in Arkham Asylum. Again. Hopefully this time he won’t break out… hopefully. Now Jason can really chew Bruce out, but the main thing this adventure did was force them all to work together again. And maybe Jason won’t really be too far away from now on. He’s still gonna have his own place and do his own thing, but… he still does care about Bruce… and he does think of Dick and Tim as brothers… and Alfred is the best. Jason will be around.

The season goes on for a bit longer, tackling a few other stories, etc, etc, and then it ends with Dick proposing to Starfire… and Ra’s kidnapping Bruce again, but this time, it’s not to force him to marry Talia… mostly. This time, he’s got something to tell Bruce. There’s someone he needs to meet. His son, Damian Wayne. Way back in season 1, Talia had stolen some… “DNA” from Bruce while he was captured, and they had used it, in conjunction with her own… “DNA” to create Damian. She and Ra’s had been raising him for the past ten years, training him to be the perfect weapon, the perfect leader, and the perfect heir to the throne of the League of Shadows. Now it was time for the next stage in his studies. Talia had taught him just about everything she knew. Now it was Bruce’s turn. Besides, the boy had wanted to meet his father. Ra’s declares that Damian will go live with Bruce for five years, and then return home.

…So, long story short, Bruce winds up back in Gotham on the heels of Dick’s engagement with the ten-year-old son he never knew he had.

These next few years are gonna be fun.

Part 6 👇

Part 4 👇

[milkmejae]

Brisbane '17— s.yj

sypnosis: year '17, after your parents’ bitter divorce, life feels like it’s falling apart. one night, on a rooftop, you're ready to end it all—not until a guy stops you. the encounter sparks an unexpected connection, though neither is ready to admit it.

genre: romance, angst, fluff, tragedy, comedy (?)

pairing: boy next door!s.jy x female!reader

word count: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of su!cide, death, profanity, physical attack (unintentional lol), familial problems, depression

playlist: call me back - chase atlantic, brisbane - youth in revolt, her - chase atlantic, bmf - SZA, love me not - ravyn lenae, kiss kiss - mgk, royalty - enhypen, ivy - frank ocean, august 10 - julie doiron, strangers - ethel cain

a/n: hi lovely reader, this is my first work and idek how to write lol. still gonna edit this but this fic is inspired by the song brisbane by youth in revolt and the aussie boy himself, i hope y'all will like this, mwa! please reblog if u want. not proofread

Year 2017— Brisbane, Australia

The suburban rooftops stretched out under the faint glow of the moon, rows of identical houses and overgrown lawns barely visible in the darkness. The night was cold, and the wind carried the petrichor from the rain, but you really didn’t care. It was eerily quiet, just like you wanted it to be. The edge felt so close—just one step, one moment of weightlessness, and then everything would finally stop. The whispers of your parents arguing still echoed in your mind, even though they already stopped and ended things months ago. Their divorce had been loud, messy, and final. All the abuse and hurting is done, but not on your part. You were still tormented in your own mind. They moved on with their separate lives while you were left stuck in the ruins of what used to be a family.

Your long, black locks whipped around your face as you took a drag from your cigarette. The warmth of the smoke wasn’t enough to chase away the chill in your chest. The metal railing pressed into your palms, the cold biting into your skin. You leaned forward slightly, eyes closing and letting the wind brush against like a silent invitation.

The night became your sanctuary. But tonight, it was meant to be your escape.

You leaned forward slightly, toes curling within the sneakers over the edge. You were on edge. The cold metal railing pressed against your palms as your breath hitched. It would be quick, you thought to yourself. It would be painless.

"You're not really going to do that, are you?"

The voice startled you, sharp and low, like a blade slicing through the silence. You spun around, your heart lurching within your aching chest, breath starting to get heavy.

He was standing in the shadow of a tree across your house, half-hidden in darkness. Moonlight seeping through the leaves, revealing his dark brown hair sitting messily over his forehead, hiding his sculpted appearance. Black hoodie hung loosely on his frame. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and he tilted his head slightly, watching her.

"What the fuck?" you hissed, narrowing your eyes. Strings were pulled within him, producing a low chuckle that's somewhat utterly offensive on your part.

"Who even are you?"

"Someone who doesn't want to see a messy scene," he said, stepping into the faint light. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, but there was something unsettlingly focused about his dark eyes. "It’s a long way down, you know."

"None of your business," you snapped on his words instantly, turning back toward the edge.

"Maybe not," he said, his tone almost lazy. "But I’d hate to see someone ruin a perfectly good night." You froze, gripping the railing tighter. "What do you want?"

The man took a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate. "Just to chill, but you made a scene so it somehow ruined it." Oh, that's not very kind of him.

"Fuck off you dickhead, I'm already on the verge of making my brain scatter on the ground and you ruined it, god—"

"yeah yeah, you good?"

Did he just cut you off?

You were pushed to the edge, you might as well just blow your heads off, right? His voice was annoying, a second away from making your veins pop and destroying whatever's within you.

"Do I look like I'm good?”

“Nope, you look shit.” popping the ‘p’

“Why do you care?" Your voice wavered, betraying the anger you tried to cling to. He shrugged. "Why not? Doesn't cost me anything to care." You glared at him over his shoulder, chest tightening.

"Fuck off."

"Nope," he declined, popping the 'p' again, almost breaking his neck looking up, watching you a few feet away. His eyes stayed on you, unblinking. "But I can tell you’re not as cold as you want to seem." clearly annoying you to get something… typical.

You didn’t respond. "Let me guess," he continued, his voice softer now. "You think this is the only way to make it stop. The pain, the loneliness, all of it." The guy kinda get what you're feeling at the moment, hell, it even felt like he could see straight through the walls you spent years building around. It was disarming—how he spoke like he understood, like he’d been there too. His words weren’t pitying or condescending; they were raw, honest in a way that made your chest ache. But still, it feels like it's an act to go through you, can't really trust anyone these days.

You didn’t answer, but your grip on the cold metal railing became tighter than ever, as if it was not letting him the space to keep talking.

“You’re not the only one feeling this way,” he continued, his voice steady but somehow warm, like the kind of drug you didn’t know you needed until someone offered it. “And I’m not saying things will magically get better overnight. But jumping from a rooftop won’t fix anything. It’s a dumb way to go, you won't even die. It won’t make the pain go away.”

Plain stupid. You didn’t want to hear it. No. Not from some dude living across your house. But still, you couldn’t shake the way his voice felt like a lifeline—a thread you didn’t want to grab but felt reaching for anyway.

“I don’t know what it feels like to be you,” he added, stepping a little closer, his eyes not leaving mine. “But I know what it’s like to feel like everything’s too much. That you’re drowning,” His voice softened even more, almost gentle. “I won’t pretend to have all the answers. But I do know that there’s no point in doing something that takes everything from you. Not when there’s still a chance to find something else.”

You looked down at the ground, at him, heart heavy in your chest. The suburb lights flickered below the guy, a tiny, distant reminder of everything you were trying to do, plotting a cry to escape. Throat tightening, you felt a lump form from within that you couldn’t swallow down.

He took another step closer, his gaze still soft but unwavering. “You don’t have to be alone in this.”

The words hit harder than you expected. No one had ever said anything like that to you—not in the way he did, with no judgment, just nothing.

"So just come down and—”

Shit.

His nose is on period.

You just wanted to shoo him away, not throw an empty pot on his face. Well, you told him to mind his business but he couldn’t. Deserved.

"Listen," he said, as if reading the thoughts in your mind, "Even if you broke my nose, I’m not leaving until you come down from here. And if you try to go back to that edge, I’ll be ready to call the cops on you. I know you probably think I’m just some random guy who doesn’t know a thing, but I don’t wanna be the person of interest if you die."

You inhaled shakily, your breath catching in your throat. It felt like you're teetering on the edge of something—something fragile that you didn’t want to fall into, but something you're so tired of fighting. The pain in your chest had been so constant, so overwhelming, that you almost convinced yourself it was the only thing you knew how to feel.

But this moment, with him standing there, with that soft but resolute look in his eyes, made it all feel a tad less heavy.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he added, his voice quieter now. “Not unless you do.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t want to go anywhere. You felt something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time— warmth.

—------

The school bell rang, slicing through the quiet of the early morning. You sat in your usual seat in the back of the classroom, eyes focused on the empty desk in front. It was hard to shake the feeling from last night—the quiet rooftop, his voice, the way his words had made the weight in my chest feel a little less suffocating.

But this was school. This was a place full of people you barely knew, and most of them you didn’t care to. You were fine with the distance, being nonexistent, keeping your head down, interactions as minimal as possible. It’s cooler that way.

You pulled out your notebook, hoping the comfort of your routine would ground you. But as you glanced around the room, your gaze landed on a figure near the door.

With all of its glory, it was the guy.

"Yo! Jake!"

It was loud and playful, carrying a teasing energy that you couldn’t ignore. You turned, just for a second, then glanced at the source of the sound. A guy appeared, tall with messy washed-brown hair and an easy grin plastered across his face. His energy seemed to fill the hallway as he walked up to the guy, clapping him on the back with enough force that the guy nearly stumbled from his seat, but quickly recovered.

Jake...

The name was already lodged in your mind, familiar in a way you didn’t want it to be. And yet, it was impossible to ignore the small ripple of something—something you couldn’t name—that had started when you first heard it. It wasn’t much, just the passing mention of a name. But the way it rolled off his friend's tongue, with that playful teasing and the easy affection, made you realize just how little you knew about the boy who had stopped you on the rooftop.

He was leaning casually against the doorframe, his dark brown hair tousled as always, a crooked smile playing on his lips. He was wearing the school uniform, but it looked effortlessly cool on him, like he hadn’t even tried. You had to admit, the guy’s drop dead gorgeous. And, for the briefest moment, I could’ve sworn he was looking straight at me.

"What’s up, man?" the other guy said with a boisterous laugh. "You’ve been ghosting us again!"

Jake raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. "You’re one to talk, Hee," he muttered, pushing his friend away in mock irritation. "I’ve just been busy."

His friend didn’t let up. "Yeah, yeah," he said with exaggerated drama, throwing an arm around Jake’s neck and pulling him into a friendly headlock. "Where have you been, huh? Got yourself a girlfriend or something?"

Jake rolled his eyes but didn’t fight it. "Doubt it," he replied coolly, pulling away from his friend’s hold and straightening his shirt. "Just keeping busy."

The guy wasn’t finished. He glanced over at you, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes as he waved a hand in your direction. "Yo, what’s up?" he said loudly, flashing a grin. "You two know each other?"

“oh, fuck.” You cursed under your breath.

Jake stiffened, his body language changing ever so slightly, but it was enough for you to notice. His gaze flickered briefly over to you, but he said nothing. It wasn’t the surprise or curiosity you’d expect from someone who had just met you—it was almost as if he recognized you, but wasn’t quite willing to acknowledge it. You turned your head quickly, pretending not to care, but there was a faint flutter in your chest that you didn’t quite understand.

His friend seemed to take it as an invitation to tease more. "Don’t tell me, Jake," he continued, his voice dripping with amusement, "you’ve got some secret going on here?"

Jake, still with that same calm expression, didn’t flinch at his friend’s words. His gaze remained fixed on the blonde guy, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to entertain the question. "Can you just go away?" Jake muttered, pushing his friend away with a little more force this time.

The guy, unfazed by Jake’s disinterest, just shrugged, still smirking. "Alright, alright. Don’t get all grumpy, man." He turned to leave but threw one last playful look your way. "But hey, don’t be a stranger, okay?" he called out, his voice light and teasing.

You stood there, unsure of what to make of it all. The interaction between the two of them had felt so effortless, like this kind of back-and-forth was second nature for them. It made you feel like you were witnessing something you weren’t supposed to be a part of. And yet, there you were, caught in the middle of it.

Jake watched his friend walk off, but for a moment, there was something unreadable in his gaze. His eyes flickered to you again, but this time, there was a subtle shift—a brief, almost imperceptible glance that lasted a little too long to be accidental. He dragged his seat towards you to be closer, obviously.

It was strange. You could feel it in the pit of your stomach—a warmth, a flicker of something that shouldn’t have been there. But Jake quickly broke the moment, pulling his phone out again and looking down at the screen, his casual indifference back in place.

"His name’s Heeseung," Jake said, as if he were speaking to himself more than to you. "Just in case you were wondering."

You didn’t know why, but the name seemed to settle somewhere deep inside you. It echoed in your mind long after Jake had finished speaking. "Heeseung." You repeated it under your breath, but it didn’t seem to matter. It was the least significant thing in the world, but for some reason, it felt like you’d just learned something important.

Jake, however, didn’t seem to care. He didn’t acknowledge you any further, nor did he make any effort to start a conversation. He stood there, his back to the lockers, his eyes glued to his phone. He wasn’t interested in talking to you, at least not outwardly. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching you. That subtle shift in his gaze, the way his eyes lingered just a second too long. It was like he was ignoring you, but also, not really.

And as you walked away, the feeling that had started to settle in your chest—something between curiosity and discomfort—lingered. You didn’t know what it meant, and you didn’t want to know. But it was there, and no matter how much you tried to push it aside, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze had felt.

—------

The final bell echoed through the hallways, a collective sigh of relief spreading as students spilled out of classrooms, ready to escape for the day. You, as usual, lingered behind. There was no rush. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for you at home, and you preferred the silence of an empty hallway to the chaotic noise outside.

You were zipping your bag when a shadow filled the doorway. Jake stood there, leaning casually against the frame, hands shoved into his pockets. His dark brown hair fell over his forehead, messy yet annoyingly perfect. He had that infuriating smirk plastered on his face—the kind that screamed trouble without him having to say a word.

“What do you want?” you asked, your tone flat as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. “Good question,” he said, stepping inside with an air of nonchalance. He shut the door behind him, the sound making you stiffen. “I was thinking… you look like someone who could use a change of scenery.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And you look like someone who’s wasting my time.”

He ignored your jab, taking a few steps closer. “Come on,” he said, his voice light, teasing. “You can’t be always hiding and feeling like shit forever.”

“I’m not hiding,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “And I don’t need a pep talk from you.” Jake tilted his head, studying you for a moment. The way his gaze lingered made you shift uncomfortably. Then, with a sudden movement, he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“Let go,” you snapped, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm.

“No.”

“Yes”

“Fuck no.”

“Not happening,” he said, his smirk widening as he started pulling you toward the door.

You dug your heels into the floor, glaring at him. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you,” he replied breezily. “Don’t worry, i’ll send you home before dinner.” The man winked at you, utterly disgusting.

“Jake, I swear—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, glancing back at you. “You’re too uptight. This’ll be fun. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you,” you said coldly, but he didn’t seem to care. He dragged you outside, ignoring your protests. By the time you reached the parking lot, you were fuming. That’s when you saw it—a beat-up, ancient bike leaning against the fence.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, staring at the contraption. Jake grinned, clearly amused. “What? It’s a classic.”

“It’s a trap,” you said, your tone dripping with disdain. He swung a leg over the seat, ignoring your comment. “Get on.”

“No,” you replied bluntly.

“Alright,” he said with a shrug, grabbing your bag and tossing it into the rusty basket on the front. “Guess I’ll take this instead.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Jake, don’t—”

But he was already pedaling away, the sound of his laughter carried by the wind.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, running after him.

By the time you caught up, you were at the entrance to the beach. The salty breeze hit you first, followed by the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. You didn’t even knew that there was a place like this in the shitty place you’re in. Jake was leaning casually against his bike, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Here we are,” he said, gesturing to the ocean like he owned it. You snatched your bag from the basket, glaring at him. “What’s the point of this?”

“The point,” he said, stepping closer, “is that you’ve been walking around like the world owes you something. Thought I’d remind you it doesn’t.”

You stared at him, anger bubbling under your skin. “You’re cringe.” snarling at the boy, smirking at you gracefully.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his smirk softening into something quieter. “But I know this is better than you staring at a ceiling alone all day.” Before you could respond, another voice called out from the dunes.

“Jakey!”

You turned to see a guy approaching, with a tall and lean frame, skin white as snow. His hair blonde, not a speck of darkness, as if it was freshly bleached, he looks blinding.

“That’s Sunghoon” Jake said, barely sparing him a glance. “Ignore him.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes as he reached you, giving Jake a playful shove. “Dude, I was just passing by and.... who is this fine young woman?”

Jake didn’t answer, his focus returning to you. Sunghoon looked between the two of you, an eyebrow raised, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he gave you a quick nod.

“Shut up, Sunghoon,” Jake muttered, grabbing your wrist again. “I’m not even talking?” Sunghoon was confused at the remark his friend dropped. Yeah, he wasn’t even talking? “Go home, Hoon.” Jake replied, annoyed by the sight of his friend.

“Yeah going home now, was just passing by but got busted instead” Sunghoon fake cried, gripping his chest dramatically whilst walking towards the road away from the sea.

“Come on.” You allowed him to lead you down to the shore, ignoring his friend. The sand cool beneath your feet. The ocean stretched out before you, endless and calm. Jake didn’t say anything, but he stayed close, his presence annoyingly steady.

The salty breeze swept through the air, pulling strands of your hair into your face as Jake led you down to the shoreline. The ocean stretched out before you, endless and restless, its waves crashing rhythmically against the sand. It was nearing sunset, the sky streaked with fiery hues of orange, pink, and gold, casting everything in a warm, dreamlike glow.

You turned to Jake, raising an eyebrow. "Your friends are weird." Jake shrugged, his lips curling into an unapologetic grin. "You’re one to talk."

“Jokes on you, don’t have one.” You crossed your arms, already regretting letting him drag you here. "Alright, we’re here. Now what? Am I supposed to have some kind of life-altering epiphany while staring at the ocean?"

"That would be ideal," Jake said, crouching down to pick up a rock. He turned it over in his hand before tossing it toward the water, the stone skipping three times before disappearing beneath the surface. "But I’d settle for you cracking a smile."

You snorted. "Don’t hold your breath."

Jake straightened and turned to face you, his grin softening into something quieter, almost thoughtful. "You can’t tell me this doesn’t feel a little better than sitting in your room, doing… whatever it is you do all day."

“Being dead is waaaaaay better that whatever this is, I wanna-” You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. He wasn’t entirely wrong. There was something about the sound of the waves, the cool breeze on your skin, and the way the fading sunlight painted the world in soft, golden hues.

Jake noticed your hesitation and his grin returned, this time more triumphant. "See? I knew it. You’re just too stubborn to admit I’m right."

"Don’t get used to it," you muttered, brushing past him toward the water.

The sand was cool beneath your feet, damp and firm where the waves lapped at the shore. You stared out at the horizon, the sky now bleeding into shades of lavender and indigo. It felt strangely calming, like the ocean was swallowing up all the noise in your head. Jake came to stand beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, as if gauging your mood.

"You ever skip rocks?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"No, why would i?"

He bent down and picked up a flat stone, holding it out to you. "Here. Try it."

You stared at the rock like it might bite you. "Why?"

"Because," he said, his tone teasing, "I don’t think you’ve ever done anything remotely fun in your life."

You shot him a glare but took the rock anyway. It was smoother than you expected, cool and oddly comforting against your palm. Jake stepped back, giving you space as he gestured toward the water.

"Flick your wrist," he said. "Like this." He mimed the motion, his movements fluid and easy.

You tried to imitate him, throwing the rock with as much precision as you could muster. It plunked unceremoniously into the waves, sinking without even a single skip.

Jake burst out laughing, the sound loud and unapologetic.

"Wow," he said, shaking his head. "That was… something."

"Don’t," you warned, narrowing your eyes at him.

"What? I’m just saying, for someone who acts like they’re above everything, you’re surprisingly bad at this."

You grabbed another rock, determined to wipe that smug grin off his face. After a few failed attempts—and Jake’s insufferable commentary each time—you finally managed a single skip.

"There you go!" he said, clapping his hands. "Knew you had it in you."

"Shut up," you muttered, though you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

The two of you stayed there for a while, tossing rocks and exchanging sarcastic remarks. The sun dipped lower and lower, painting the beach in shades of amber and crimson. Jake eventually flopped down onto the sand, leaning back on his elbows as he stared up at the darkening sky.

You hesitated before sitting a few feet away, pulling your knees to your chest. The sound of the waves filled the silence between you, comfortable and unpressured.

"You’re quiet," Jake said after a while, his voice softer than before.

"I don’t like talking," you replied bluntly.

"Yeah, I noticed." He glanced at you, a hint of amusement in his expression. "But you’re still here."

“Aight, I’ll go first.” You tried to stand, not sure how to respond. The man grabbed your wrist immediately, forcing you to stay.

“NOOOOOO,” he shouted in disdain. “I was just playing with you, you’re too dense.”

Jake smiled faintly, tilting his head back to look at the stars beginning to peek through the darkened sky. "You know," he said, his tone thoughtful, "sometimes it’s nice to just… be like this. No expectations, no pressure. Just this."

For once, you didn’t have a retort. The ocean stretched out endlessly before you, vast and calming, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you.

Jake glanced at you again, his expression unreadable. "See? Told you it’s not so bad."

"Don’t push your luck," you muttered, but there was no bite in your words. The two of you stayed there until the sky turned deep blue, the stars scattered like tiny diamonds overhead. Jake stood first, brushing sand off his jeans before holding a hand out to you.

"Come on," he said, his voice quiet but steady. "Let’s head back before it gets too late."

You stared at his hand for a moment before taking it, his grip warm and firm as he helped you to your feet. As you walked back toward the bike, the sound of the waves fading behind you, you couldn’t help but feel… lighter. For a little while, the weight you carried wasn’t so heavy.

—------

The days after fell into an unspoken pattern, a natural ebb and flow that neither of you acknowledged outright but couldn’t seem to break. Jake had a way of weaving himself into your days effortlessly, his presence becoming as routine as the ringing of the school bell.

It started with the small things. You’d find him waiting for you after class, leaning against the wall with that ever-present smirk playing on his lips. At first, you’d scoff, brushing past him with a curt, ���Don’t you have someone else to bother?” But he’d fall into step beside you, completely unbothered by your cold tone.

“Maybe,” he’d reply, hands shoved into his pockets. “But you’re way more fun.”

You didn’t notice how often it started happening until it became something you looked forward to. Even when you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t care, the way your heart picked up speed every time you saw him leaning casually against the lockers told a different story.

In the mornings, he’d spot you walking through the school gates and fall in step beside you without a word. By lunch, he’d somehow worm his way into sitting across from you, a tray of food in hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he’d say one afternoon, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you, “you’re a lot more tolerable when you’re not glaring at me.”

“I wanna make you bite the curb.”

“It’s true, you look pretty if you're not glaring at me.”

You scoffed, stabbing at your salad with unnecessary aggression. “And you’re marginally less annoying when you’re not talking.”

“Marginally,” he repeated, grinning. “I’ll take it.”

What surprised you most was how natural it felt. Jake had a way of breaking down your walls without you realizing it, slipping through the cracks with his easy charm and disarming humor. He didn’t push too hard; he didn’t need to. His persistence was quiet, steady, and strangely comforting.

Before long, your walks home became routine. He’d wait for you outside the school gates, kicking at the gravel as if he’d been there for hours. Sometimes, you’d walk in silence, the only sounds being the rustle of leaves and the occasional distant bark of a dog. Other times, he’d talk about anything and everything—his dreams of traveling, funny stories about his childhood, or even the ridiculous antics of his friends Heeseung and Sunghoon.

“You should meet them sometime,” he said once, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “They’d love you.”

“I wouldn't.” You snorted.

“No, really,” he insisted. “You’d fit right in. They’ve got thick skin, so your whole ‘I don’t care about anyone’ vibe wouldn’t scare them off.”

“I doubt that.” smiling ever so slightly which made Jake’s heart skip a beat.

“No way.”

“What?”

“You fucking smiled, bro you-” The guy is now shouting, freaking out from what he had just witnessed. “YOU SHOULD SMILE OFTEN!” Jake is twitching at this point, in his perspective, you look like an angel sent from above.

Your lips twitched, but you quickly suppressed the smile threatening to break free. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

Despite your attempts to keep him at arm’s length, you found yourself relaxing around him more and more. The biting remarks softened into playful banter, and the silences between you felt less like walls and more like bridges.

But with the growing closeness came something else—something neither of you were willing to name. It was in the way his gaze lingered a little too long when you weren’t looking, the way his teasing tone softened whenever you let your guard down. It was in the way your heart skipped a beat every time he brushed past you, his shoulder bumping yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

One evening, as you walked home together, the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink. Jake was unusually quiet, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“What?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering for just a moment. “Nothing,” he said quickly, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes but felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. The air between you felt heavier than usual, charged with something unspoken.

The days blurred into weeks, and soon it wasn’t just the afternoons you spent together. Jake began showing up early in the mornings, offering to walk you to school. He’d lean against the gate, his dark brown hair catching the light in a way that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“You know, I don’t need an escort,” you told him one morning, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Who said anything about needing?” he shot back, falling into step beside you. “I just like the company.”

You didn’t respond, but a small part of you—the part that you kept buried deep down—was grateful for him.

In school, you noticed how his attention shifted. Jake was popular, with friends who seemed to orbit around him like planets around the sun. But his focus was always on you. Even when he was surrounded by laughter and chatter, his eyes would search for yours.

It scared you, the way he saw through your defenses. You’d spent so long building walls, convinced that no one could—or should—get close. But Jake… Jake didn’t knock them down. He climbed over them, slowly and deliberately, until you weren’t sure where the barriers ended and where he began.

You both felt it—that quiet, undeniable pull. But neither of you dared to say it out loud. Instead, you let it linger in the space between you, in the stolen glances and fleeting touches. Because saying it would make it real, and real meant vulnerable.

And neither of you were ready for that.

—------

The house felt hollow when you walked in, the walls devoid of life. The echoes of the past lingered in the corners, faint but persistent. Your mom sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped tightly around a steaming cup of coffee. The weary look in her eyes was enough to tell you something was wrong.

“Sit down,” she said, her voice a quiet plea. You hesitated, the knot in your stomach tightening as you pulled out a chair. She didn’t meet your gaze. Instead, she stared at the surface of the table, as if the woodgrain patterns held answers.

“We’re leaving,” she finally said, her voice breaking through the silence.

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard her correctly. “Leaving?”

“Yes,” she said, exhaling heavily. “I… I decided it’s best if we move overseas. Start fresh without your dad.” The weight of her words hit you like a tidal wave. “Overseas?” you repeated, your voice sharper now. “You mean I have to leave everything—everything I know—behind?”

Her lips trembled as she nodded. “This is what’s best for us, sweetheart. I also got a job there, it’s been so hard here, and we need to move forward.”

You stared at her, your chest tightening. Moving forward? How could she say that so easily? Your mind immediately went to Jake—the boy who had pulled you back from the edge, the boy who had made you feel like life was worth living again. The idea of leaving him felt unbearable.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I can’t leave.”

“I know this is hard,” she said, reaching out as if to comfort you, but you pulled away. “You’ll understand one day.”

You didn’t tell her about Jake. You didn’t tell her about the nights on the beach or the way his quiet persistence had chipped away at your walls. Instead, you stormed up to your room, slamming the door behind you. The weight of it all crashed down on you, and for the first time in months, the tears wouldn’t stop.

And then, just like that, you were gone. You couldn’t even bring yourself to say goodbye.

—------

Jake noticed your absences immediately. At first, he thought it was just one of your off days—you had those sometimes, disappearing for a day or two before returning with your usual cold demeanor. But as the days turned into weeks, the gnawing worry in his chest grew.

By the end of the week, he couldn’t take it anymore. He cornered your homeroom teacher after class. “Hey, uh… the girl who sits in the back. She hasn’t been here for a while. Is she okay?”

The teacher looked at him with surprise, then a flicker of pity. “Oh, she and her mom moved overseas. It was very sudden.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. “Overseas?” he repeated, the word foreign and sharp in his mouth.

“Yes Mr. Sim, overseas.”

Jake walked out of the classroom in a daze, the world around him blurring. You were gone. Just like that. No goodbye, no explanation. The thought of it left a hollow ache in his chest.

That night, he sat at his desk, staring at a blank piece of paper. The silence of his room felt oppressive, and the weight of everything he hadn’t said to you pressed down on him. Without thinking, he picked up a pen and began to write.

From that night on, Jake wrote to you. Each letter was a reflection of the longing that grew with every passing day, a way to keep you close even though you were gone.

Jake kept writing, even as life moved on around him. Heeseung and Sunghoon would tease him about how distracted he seemed, but they didn’t press too hard—they knew he was holding onto something he couldn’t let go of.

—------

Year ‘25— Brisbane, Australia

The streets of your old neighborhood were both familiar and foreign as you walked through them. The years had changed you, healed parts of you that had once felt irreparably broken. But as you approached the park where you used to spend your afternoons, the ache of the past resurfaced.

You saw him then—Heeseung. He was standing by the swings, holding the hand of a little girl while another child played nearby. His laughter carried through the air, warm and joyful.

Your steps faltered, but you found your voice. “Heeseung?”

He turned, his eyes widening in recognition. “You’re back,” he said, a bittersweet smile spreading across his face. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Where’s Jake?” you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

His smile faded, replaced by a sorrowful look that made your stomach drop.

—------

Year ‘23— Brisbane, Australia

One rainy evening, Jake was driving home from work, his hands gripping the steering wheel loosely as the rhythm of the rain on the windshield filled the silence of the car. The world outside was a blur of gray and water, the headlights of passing cars distorted like smudges on a wet canvas. The weather had been relentless all day, the kind of storm that soaked through your clothes in seconds and turned streets into glistening hazards.

He had been thinking about you again. Not that he ever truly stopped. You were always there, in the back of his mind, a quiet ache that he had learned to live with. Jake often wondered where you were now, what kind of life you were building in a place he couldn’t reach. Sometimes, he imagined you smiling, truly smiling—something he hadn’t seen often when you were here. The thought brought him comfort, even as it twisted his heart.

His phone buzzed on the passenger seat, but he didn’t reach for it. He knew better than to let his attention waver in this weather. The rain had turned the roads into slick ribbons of danger, and visibility was poor, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the downpour. Still, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he thought about what he might say to you if you were here now.

Maybe something stupid, he mused. Something to make you roll your eyes the way you always did, though he’d catch the ghost of a smile on your lips if he looked close enough. He could almost hear your voice, the sharp edges of your words softened by the warmth you tried so hard to hide.

As he approached the intersection, the light turned yellow. Jake slowed, his foot easing off the gas pedal. The rain made the world feel heavier, the weight of the water pressing down on everything, muting the usual chaos of the city.

And then it happened.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—a set of headlights barreling toward him, far too fast, far too close. There was no time to react, no time to process. The car tore through the red light, and in an instant, the world exploded into chaos.

The sound was deafening: metal crunching against metal, glass shattering into a thousand jagged pieces, tires screeching against the wet pavement. The force of the impact sent Jake’s car spinning, the world outside becoming a disorienting blur of rain and darkness.

When the car finally came to a halt, Jake was slumped against the seat, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The airbag had deployed, the acrid smell of burnt chemicals filling the small space. Pain radiated through his body, sharp and unrelenting, but it wasn’t the physical agony that consumed him.

It was the thought of you.

His vision blurred, whether from the rain streaking down the cracked windshield or the tears pooling in his eyes, he couldn’t tell. His mind was racing, desperate and frantic. He had always imagined that, someday, he’d see you again. That he’d get the chance to tell you everything he’d never said. How you had changed his life, how you had become the one thing he clung to when the world felt like it was falling apart.

The rain pounded against the car, drowning out the distant wail of sirens. Jake’s breaths came in short, shallow gasps, each one more labored than the last. He could feel his body growing heavier, the edges of his consciousness fraying like an old threadbare cloth.

But even as the pain surged through him, his thoughts remained anchored to you. He pictured your face, the way your eyes would narrow when you were annoyed, the rare but breathtaking smile that would light up your features when you thought no one was looking. He wondered if you’d ever think of him, if you’d remember the boy who had once pulled you back from the edge.

“I hope… you’re happy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the storm. His fingers twitched, reaching for something unseen. “I hope… you’re okay.”

The sirens grew louder, closer, but Jake’s focus was elsewhere. In his mind, he was back on the beach with you, the two of you sitting under the dying light of the sun, your laughter mingling with the sound of the waves. It was a memory he clung to, a moment of pure, unfiltered joy that had become his sanctuary.

As the darkness closed in, Jake allowed himself one final thought, one final hope. Maybe, somehow, you’d feel it—the depth of what he had never been able to say. Maybe you’d know.

And then, with the rain still falling and the world slipping further and further away, Jake’s hand fell limp against the seat. The sirens arrived too late, the light in his eyes fading as his final breath escaped into the storm.

Even in the end, his heart had been yours.

—------

The world tilted, and you felt your knees threaten to give out. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head.

Heeseung’s voice wavered as he continued, “He never stopped thinking about you. Even after all those years… he kept writing.”

He gave out the stack of letters. They were worn and faded, but the sight of Jake’s familiar handwriting made your chest ache.

You sat on the park bench, the letters trembling in your hands. Opening the first one, tears blurred your vision as Jake’s words came alive once more.

Heeseung sat beside you, his presence quiet and comforting. “He loved you,” he said. “Even when you weren’t here, he loved you.”

Jake's Unsent Letters

August 10, 2017

Hey,

I don’t know where you are or if you’ll ever read this, but I wanted to tell you—I miss you. School isn’t the same without you. No one rolls their eyes at my jokes anymore.

Jake.

September 5, 2017

Today, I went to the beach. It felt empty without you there. I kept looking at the waves, hoping you’d show up out of nowhere and tell me I’m an idiot.

I’m sorry.

December 24, 2017

Merry Christmas. I wish you were here.

I wish you were here with me too.

March 13, 2018

I saw someone today who looked like you. My heart jumped, and I felt stupid when I realized it wasn’t. I hope you’re okay.

“Dumbass.” you muttered under your breath, tears flowing on your face.

May 21, 2019

It’s been almost two years. I still think about you. A lot. Do you even remember me?

How will I even forget you?

June 10, 2020

I told Heeseung and Sunghoon about the letters. They said I should send them, but I don’t even know where to send them.

I’m sorry, Jake.

November 2, 2022

I’m starting to feel like you were a dream, like I made you up. But then I remember your laugh, and it feels real again.

Jake..

March 12, 2023

I’ll never stop missing you, everything about you is good, what we had felt good.

God, please take me back to Brisbane ‘17.

[muashamaila]

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[mysunshinetemptress]

Hi, Can't wait for the fics that you write I lover them all. But can I request a Katrina Gorry x wife reader, where the reader is a footballer too but in England or Spain team. Thanks....

Mi Vida

Katrina Gorry x Reader

Angst fluff

Falling in love with your wife has been the easiest thing you had ever done, telling her you loved her was nerve wracking but not hard, asking her to marry you was an easy decision planning out how you where going to do it not so much, organising the wedding was complicated but ultimately you both had decided to marry at La Fortaleza in Mallorca and finally the decision to start a family had been the quickest yes you had said in your life finally feeling your life align the way you had always hoped.

That changed when your wife had been signed to a team in Sweden and had ultimately decided that she would be the one to take your 6 month old daughter with her. Both your girls where three hours away by plane and the only way you got to speak to them was through a phone most of the time. You couldn’t help but feel deflated after you hung up every night, looking over the videos you had been sent of Harpers first steps to her first words and little sentences she was still trying to string together.

You spent every break you could in Sweden trying to make up for lost time but every time you saw them both your heart broke at how much had changed how big Harper was getting so quickly, and with that her interests something you didn’t catch on to until she had been a screaming mess shouting how much she hated paw patrol when you had tried to give her the presents you had brought over. What hurt even more was how little Spanish she had or understood compared to her understanding of Swedish “Osa puedes decir te amo mamá ?.” Harper had stood clueless babbling before you tried again and she began to get frustrated a tantrum ensuing after as Katrina watched heart breaking at your crest fallen features realising what was happening to her family.

Leaving was never easy you felt guilty watching Harper beg and cry for you to stay to not leave her and how hopeless she slowly became to your promises to return “too long mama stay.” You of course would only answer in Spanish wanting to surround her in as much of it as possible during such a short time, “lo sé, osa, lo siento, te prometo te veré pronto mi niña.” Harper would begin getting frustrated shouting for you to speak English.

Katrina had been a bystander during these moments, she had felt her heart break the minute she told you she had signed to play in Sweden and would be taking Harper with her, she was surprised you hadn’t fought for her to stay in Spain with you surrounded by her Tías instead when she had begun shouting at you to say something about her decision you had grabbed her into your arms and told her it was ok, having Harper move from place to place wouldn’t be good for her at all and if Katrina thought Sweden would be best for your daughter then you would support her. But she couldn’t deny she felt regret and guilt creep in watching you try to hold back tears on FaceTime or hear you cry every night you where home as you tried to hide it.

After talking to her agent Katrina decided that the 2023 season would be her last in Sweden, but she had decided to keep it a surprise from you wanting to bring some spark back in your eyes since she had left. But first was the Women’s World Cup.

Australia and New Zealand had been chosen to co host this years World Cup and the Matilda’s had been hopeful that they would win it on home soil, whereas the Spanish team La Rojas as they where fondly called had been shadowed in controversy and had come into the tournament wanting to prove the world they where more than what the news projected them to be.

Your contract with Barcelona was set to end while you where playing at the World Cup and you had made the decision to leave the club on a high of winning a champions league and leave for a new league the WSL, what team you would been signing to was get to be made known to the press wanting to tell you close family and friends before the big announcement.

The Spanish federation hadn’t been as accommodating as you hoped, refusing to allow you to fly over two days ahead of the team in order to see your wife and daughter or even letting you see them once you arrived over stating they didn’t want any distractions, Alexia and Ona stood beside just off camera as you called Katrina “Hola Mi Amor.” Katrina knew something was wrong the minute your face appeared “everything ok my love.” You looked at your teammates before sighing “they won’t let me fly out two days early or see you during the tournament, I don’t know how you say eh distracción.” Katrina eyes softened “distraction love.” You nodded “I just want to see her and to see you too.” Katrina felt the guilt come back “I know I’m sorry my love it won’t be much longer.” You nodded “is she there my little osa.” Katrina smiled sadly at the hope in your eyes at seeing your daughter “mums taken her to the park y/n I’m sorry.” You could only smile sadly at her “it’s ok, I have something to tell you though.” Katrina hummed letting you know she was listening “I’m leaving Barcelona, I want to go to England to play plus flight times are less I get to you both quicker no.” Katrina was overjoyed at the news “oh darling I’m…really but you love Barcelona.” You nodded “I do but it’s the right time.” Katrina smiled at you before she was interrupted by your older two children Kyra and Charli “hola ma how are you.” You smiled at the younger girls. “I’m good but I have to go I’ll see you all soon and please give my osa a big hug and kiss from me tell her I love her.” Katrina could see the heart break in your eyes at your words “she knows my love but I’ll remind her.”

The tournament had been a nightmare for the Matilda’s, they had been knocked out by England and would now battle Sweden for the bronze while you faced England at the hopes of winning it all. The team had gathered in the screening room to watch match hopping for your wife to win. Anytime Katrina came on screen your team cheered and your heart swelled every time of course those cheers got so much louder when your daughter appeared on screen as they all talked about how cute she was you felt tears form in your eyes seeing her dressed in her Australia jersey waving a flag. You texted the Australian girls after stating how proud you where of and that deserved so much more but that she should be proud of leaving it all out on the pitch and creating history.

You stood in the tunnel holding your mascots hand when you felt a tap on your shoulder turning to see Alessia Russo “Rumour has it your joining the WSL.” You nodded smiling “that rumour would be true.” Alessia smiled Turing to face the front “I look forward to it then.” You smiled before squeezing your mascots hand asking if she was ready to go. Walking out you stood proud giving your jacket to the young girl shivering in front of you before singing the national anthem and saying good by taking your place on the back line with Ona.

You had done your best making sure your back line stayed strong against such a strong English squad. You found an opportunity in the 29 minute the lioness gravitating to the left wing gave you the chance to break into the middle right before calling for the pass from Bonmatí seeing Mary just off her mark you sent a rocket to the top left holding your breath as it nestled in the back turning you ran to your bench jumping onto Alexia as she screamed in excitement before you looked past the bench to see the Matilda’s standing behind it, you spotted your wife and daughter pointing at the letting them know it was for them before Alexia pushed you back down to the pitch telling you to get a move on.

The minute the final whistle blew you dropped to the ground before feeling your teammates pile on top of you before you shook them off walking straight to the lionesses, congratulating them on their performance before Lotte Wubben moy grabbed you “we need you holy shit mate.” You laughed pulling her into a hug “I’m Spanish but ooh to be a gooner.” Lotte squealed pulling you tighter “can’t wait mate.” You nodded before excusing your self.

You ran right past your management team before jumping the Barrier as fans around you tried to grab you but you ignored them running up the steps “salto de Osa.” Harper jumped from Charli’s arms “oh mi Osa te amo.” Katrina pushed through the girls congratulating you pulling you down to kiss her “I’m so proud of you of all of you you did it Y/n.” You felt tears well in your eyes “I couldn’t do it without you it is all for you I’m sorry you didn’t win but what’s mine is yours sí.”

Harper wouldn’t let you go for the trophy ceremony, Katrina stating she was jealous of the mascot the minute you walked out holding her hand screaming that you where her Mama and only hers. You took your medal with Harper on your hip as well as threw her in the air when they raised the trophy before letting the girls take her away briefly as Katrina made her way on to the pitch “for you.” You took your medal off putting it over your wife’s head kissing her softly. Katrina held you as you watched Harper laugh with the girls “ lm leaving.” You froze “leaving what.” Katrina could see the worry in your face “Sweden I’ve decided I’m done splitting this family apart so at the end of this season I’m leaving and I’m following you to England.” You felt your heart swell “really.” Katrina nodded “my life is with you and Harper no where else I can’t live through that or put you both through that again it broke my heart seeing her cry every night knowing you where doing the same in Spain.” You held her as she gave you her reasoning “I’m going to Arsenal.” Kyra squealed from behind you “I am too oh we are going to be a real family in England.” Charli nodded “yeah cause I decide I wasn’t being left out either.” You felt content finally creep back in as you looked around at your little family “oh mi Vida es Bella.”

[cherryblossomcowgirl]

The Bodyguard

Bodyguard!Jake Seresin x reader; Glen Powell x reader

WC: 2.3k

TW: age gap; angst; weapons; possessiveness; mentions of death

.

.

I cross my arms and huff, “This is so not fair, Dad.” He sighs, “Sweetheart, you knew this was coming. You had a security detail during my last term.” “I was in school then! I’m an adult now, Dad. I don’t need an armed babysitter.” “This is not a negotiation.” His tone is stern, the same one he uses during press conferences, and I immediately back down. The door to the oval office opens and one of his staffers pops their head in, “Mr. President, he’s here. Are you ready for him?” Dad nods and in walks the most gorgeous man I have ever laid my eyes on. Late 30s, tall, chiseled, tan, blonde hair, stubble, and a killer smile. My Father rises from behind the desk to shake his hand, “Hello, Mr. Seresin.” The man smiles, “Good morning, Mr. President.” Dad gestures to me, “This is my daughter, Y/n.” The blonde man turns to me, “Hello, Y/n.” I nod in his direction and my Father clears his throat, “As you can tell, she is not thrilled about this situation. I will warn you, this one gave her last detail quite the hard time. I would like to thank you and apologize to you at the same time.” Dad chuckles and the man nods, “Do not worry sir, she will be safe with me.” Dad sits back down and smiles, “I heard you are the best of the best. Let me know if you need anything.” The man nods and I walk over to kiss my Father on the head, “See you soon, Dad.” He grabs my hand for a second, “Don’t forget to call. I love you.” “You too.” I walk out of the office with my new shadow.

.

.

The sound of the engine humming fills the awkward silence as we drive back to NYC. My mind wanders as I stare at his hands on the wheel, they look so strong and rough. I gaze up his arms, vascular and practically bulging out of his shirt. He clears his throat, “So Ms. Y/l/n, would you like to tell me your daily schedule?” “Sure, Mr. Seresin. I wake up at 6:00 for my workout, then I walk home and shower. Right now I am in the writing stage, so I will set up my laptop at home or a coffee shop and write. Dinner with friends when I feel like it, but usually I just cook at home. Then I’ll watch something on tv and go to bed around 10. Also, you can call me Y/n.” He nods and continues to stare straight ahead at the road. After a few minutes I break the silence, “What’s your first name?” His green eyes pierce mine, “Jake. But Ms. Y/l/n, let me be clear about something. I am your bodyguard. You are my client. We are not friends.” I nod, turning to look out the window. This is going to be a long four years.

.

.

*1 month later*

“You can’t be serious!” Jake calmly sets down his coffee, “You can book private sessions, but no more group Pilates.” “Why not?” He doesn’t even look up from the newspaper, “Because I don’t know who will be in the class, therefore I do not have time to properly vet them.” I throw my bag over my shoulder and head to the door. He follows, “Where do you think you are going?” “Pilates. You work for me, remember?” “It’s not a good idea.” I roll my eyes, “What’s not a good idea?” His green eyes darken as he leans in, “Disobeying my orders.” A weird warmth starts spreading in my stomach. “Watch me.” I start walking out of my brownstone and he follows, begrudgingly. As soon as I get to class I see my friend, Glen. He walks right up and hugs me, “Hey, darling! I’ve missed you!” I smile, “You’re finally back! Pilates hasn’t been the same without you.” We put our things away, chatting about the movie he just came back from filming in Australia. As we walk into the room, Glen places his hand on my lower back and for a split second I swear Jake’s jaw twitches. His green eyes sear into Glen throughout the whole class. Afterwards, we say our goodbyes and I follow Jake towards my home. After a minute of walking in silence, Jake furrows his brow, “Who was that?” I chuckle, knowing immediately who he is talking about. “That’s Glen. He’s a… friend.” Jake’s next words come out low, “Yeah he seemed a little too friendly.” “Oh be quiet. He doesn’t see me like that. I mean look at him and then look at me.” The muscle in his jaw twitches again.

.

.

*The following week*

Writing had completely taken over my days. The last time I left the house was when I saw Glen at Pilates. I’m writing by my window and Jake is in the living room when my phone rings. “Hey! …. Oh that would be great! …. Okay, see you then.” I set down my phone and get back to writing. Jake walks over, “Who will you be seeing?” Without looking up I answer, “Glen. He would like to go to dinner.” His whole body tenses, “When and where?” “Tonight and I don’t know. He’s going to pick me up.” “No.” I turn to meet his green eyes that are burning with something I can’t identify, “What did you say?” He crosses his muscular arms, “I said no. He’s not picking you up and you aren’t going to a restaurant that I can’t check ahead of time.” I stand up, our faces inches away from each other, “I am going whether you like it or not. You can drive and sit a table away, or you can take the night off.” His cologne is distracting me. His voice lowers, “What did I tell you about disobeying me?” I start walking away, swaying my hips more than usual, “I’m going to shower. Be ready in an hour.”

.

After checking myself a hundred times in the mirror, I decide I am ready. The only thing I can’t decide is if I am getting dolled up for Glen or Jake. Something about those damn green eyes. I decided on a mini skirt, baggy sweater, tights, and my favorite pair of boots. Jake is by the bottom of the stairs and I feel the heat of his eyes on me. There’s a knock at the door and I run over. Glen is smiling, “You look beautiful.” He wraps me in his arms, “Thank you! Mr. Seresin is going to drive. He’s more paranoid than my last detail.” Jake’s body looks stiff as a board as Glen smiles over at him, “No worries. You ready to go?” With his hand on my lower back he guides me to the black SUV, opening the door and all. We have been good friends for a while, and I would be lying if I said I never thought about him romantically. He is so kind, smart, funny, and attractive. I was shocked when he asked me to dinner, because he usually is seen out with actresses and models. We pull up to my favorite restaurant and Glen smiles. I follow him in, trying to forget about the shadow following us. It’s hard to ignore him when he is staring daggers at Glen the entire night.

.

Dinner is wonderful and afterwards Glen walks me to my front door. Jake is standing at the bottom of the steps, still staring daggers. “Thank you for dinner. I had a great time.” Glen smiles, “You’re welcome darling. Maybe one of these days we could grab coffee after Pilates?” “I’d love that.” Glen’s eyes glance down to my lips, but he leans in for a hug. He kisses my cheek and I wave as he walks to his car. Jake follows me inside and I throw my hands in the air, “You have GOT to be KIDDING me! He’s not going to kiss me while you’re staring at him like you want to kill him!” Jake shrugs, “A real man wouldn’t have cared.” “You’re impossible!” He walks closer to me and his voice is gravely, “My job is to keep you safe. I don’t care if that upsets you or the little pretty boys you want to date.” I lean in, “Seemed like you were the one that was upset, Mr. Seresin.” I turn around, starting to walk away. His calloused hand grabs my wrist and spins me back around. His voice is barely above a whisper, “You are playing a dangerous game here, Ms. Y/l/n.” My heart feels like it is beating out of my chest. Heat rises to my cheeks and I pray he doesn’t notice. I lean in, smirking, “Good thing that’s my favorite kind.” Twisting my wrist out of his hand, I head up to bed.

.

.

*3 months later*

“Wanna grab a coffee? I’ll walk you home.” I smile while I pack my Pilates bag, “Yeah, that’d be great.” Glen grabs my bag and throws it over his shoulder as I follow him to the cafe. “So, how was England?” He sighs, “Cold, rainy, gray… no you. But I think the movie will be great.” I nudge his arm, “I’m sure it will be. They always are.” He blushes and grabs our coffees. We start the walk back to my house and I almost forget Jake is there. Almost. A couple of stray paparazzi see Glen and run over. Before we have time to react, Jake pulls us into an alley. His entire body is covering mine and his hand is hovering over his gun. Heat is radiating from his body. His sculpted body is pressing into mine with every breath. After I get my breathing under control, I place my hand on his chest, “It was just the paparazzi. I’m sure they’re gone by now.” I feel his heartbeat, strong and steady. He back away, allowing us to continue walking home. Glen smiles at me, “Seems like he’s really good at his job.” I sigh, “Yeah, it makes up for how aggravating he is.” We chuckle and stop at my front door. Glen kisses my cheek, “Have a good writing day, darling.” I smile, “Thank you. Let me know if you need me to edit that script.” His thumb brushes my cheek, “Will do.” I wave as he walks back to his house up the street. As I walk inside I grab my computer to get set up, and Jake is chuckling to himself. “What’s so funny, Mr. Seresin?” Jake smirks, “Maybe he just isn’t good at aiming?” “Can you do me a favor and just stay out of my love life?” His smirk spreads, “There doesn’t seem to be one to stay out of.” I stand up, poking his chest hard, “Thanks. to. you. I’m not getting any younger over here!” He scoffs, “Calm down. What are you, 24?” “25 next month. How old are you? 40?” He puts his hand on his chest, “Ouch. I’m 38.” I shrug, “Close enough. Can we make a deal?” He raises his eyebrow, “I’m listening…” “You let me have Glen over, unaccompanied. You can have the whole night off.” His jaw twitches, “Not a chance.” I inch closer to him, “I have needs.” His green eyes darken, “Not my problem.” I storm up to my room, slamming the door. Jake is going to be the death of me.

.

.

*2 weeks later*

It’s Saturday, so I decide to sleep in. I finally head downstairs for coffee, but I decide to stay in my pajamas. I am frustrated and bored and decide it will at least be funny to mess with Jake. Oh and my pajamas? It’s a silky pink slip with lace around the edges. Jake is at the breakfast table, going through some files. “G’morning Mr. Seresin.” Without looking up he responds, “Morning Ms. Y/l/n.” I start to make my latte, making lots of noise on purpose. I feel his gaze on me so I reach up for my mug, exposing more of my thighs. He coughs, taking a sip of his coffee. Once I have my latte, I sit across from him. My phone rings, “Hey Dad! … Oh, really? … No, I understand. … Some other time, okay? … Yeah, Glen is great. He’s doing a press tour right now. … I miss you too. …. Love you, bye.” I blink the tears away from my eyes and sip my coffee. Jake furrows his brow, “What’s wrong?” “It’s nothing. It’s stupid, really. Dad can’t spend my birthday with me this year, he has some important meeting that came up.” His jaw twitches, “Is Glen going to spend your birthday with you?” I shake my head, “He’ll still be on his press tour.” Still reading, Jake asks, “What do you usually do with your Father?” I look down at my latte, tears threatening to spill over, “It’s always the one day I get him to myself. No cellphone. No assistants. We’ll play chess, catch up on life, and he always cooks us dinner. Then we watch our favorite movie, The Sound of Music.” I swear a real smile flashes across Jake’s face, gone as soon as it appears. He clears his throat, “That sounds nice. It must be hard sharing him with the world like that.” A tear falls down and I wipe it quickly, hoping Jake didn’t see. In a moment of vulnerability, I decide to tell him something I haven’t spoken aloud before. “My friends say they don’t understand why I am unsure about Glen. It’s not that he isn’t nice or good looking, I just know I’d have to share him with the world. I already have to be second for my Father… I just want to be first for someone.” Sadness crosses Jake’s eyes. He blinks it away, “You will be to someone.”

[coff33andb00ks]

33 with Oscar please? It is August but I am READY for autumn and spooky season already!

"Are you a witch?"

driver + number = drabble <3

ahh autumn and spooky season how I adore thee!! i hope you enjoy ❤️

warnings/themes: not proofread, reader and/or oscar might actually be a witch, hints of dark!oscar, vague historical au of some type idk

suggested listening: Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac ('97 live)

When you met him, you were intrigued. Most men were intimidated by you, but not him. He was unflappable, his energy stoic, and in a sea of chaotic boys, it was nice to meet a man.

He didn't engage, he observed. Sometimes others would interact with him but his quiet nature tended to put them off, not that he seemed to mind. From what you noticed, he appeared to prefer being left alone.

You became enthralled.

You saw him - Oscar of Australia - everywhere, an ever present shadow in town, lingering like the mist in the mornings then disappearing when you actively looked for him. The season was changing and the mist grew deeper each night, the air crisper each time you took your nightly trek through the forest.

Hunter's moon. Withering plants. Trees shedding their brightly colored leaves.

The woods smelled of dirt and damp and you felt serene there, away from everyone and everything. There was an energy among the trees that you couldn't find anywhere else and so you were drawn to them every night, like all the luckless sailors lured by the siren's calls in the tales told by the fireside.

But unlike the unfortunate sailors, you were aware of the dangers.

Animals. Fearsome beasts that were docile when treated with respect. Unlike the so-called men in town, you much preferred the company of the bears and wolves roaming the forests, for they didn't attack unprovoked.

You were able to be free, untethered by the constraints of expectations while in town, where you were meant to behave as a lady.

The moonlight was dappled on the leaves scattered across the forest floor and you breathed in the mist that swirled around you. Owls in the distance called and the wind whispered through the branches, nature's music adding a bounce to your step. You were almost to the clearing when you heard it.

Snap.

Your heart went still and your steps ceased. Listening closely, you realized it wasn't an animal. At least, not the four legged kind. You strained to listen, and then you heard the whisper of a breath. You spun, searching the shadows, hand reaching for the dagger you kept on you.

Oscar stepped out into the moonlight, one corner of his mouth lifted into a slight smirk.

"Not going to stab me, are you?" he asked softly.

It was the first time he'd ever spoken to you directly. If you hadn't been so wary of his being in the woods - your woods, your safe place - you would have been shocked. Instead you relaxed a little, lowering your hand to your side. "No."

He looked at you, his smirk disappearing as his gaze slid over you, so blatant you could feel the heat of his eyes. "What brings you out at night?" he asked, moving closer, like a cat stalking its prey.

You refused to be scared. He was just a man. "I like the night."

"But you come out every night." He tilted his head, the moonlight glittering in his eyes.

Brown as the pine needles beneath your feet, strains of black like the dirt on your fingers when you gathered mushrooms.

"Are you a witch?" he whispered.

A small ripple of fear ran down your spine. You were well aware of what would happen if you said yes. So you turned the question on him. "Are you?"

Oscar hummed. "I'm many things at many times."

"You didn't answer the question," you whispered.

He leaned close, his cheek brushing yours as he brought his lips to yours. "Neither did you."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Already Gone {8} || MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: After a record smashing 2023 season it seems to be about to repeat as 2024 begins. Warnings: 18+ only, violence, reader injury WC: 2.3k One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight

The season had ended on a high with Max rightfully where he belonged. You had accompanied him to the FIA awards and cheered proudly as he accepted the winners trophy before jetting off to the Swiss Alps for a much needed break. Unfortunately work was never far away and all too soon it was time to make your grand entrance at the annual end of year Board of Directors meeting at the Scuderia Ferrari Headquarters.

The memory of the shocked faces when you walked into the meeting room and took the last chair around the table never ceased to make you smile. The brooch pinned to your Chanel suit jacket had recorded the moment of silence before chaos erupted while you reclined back in the chair to watch the men scramble for an answer.

Now it was time for the new season to begin.

Melbourne, Australia

It should have been a safe place. You had walked the perimeter three times just to check for any signs someone would be trying to get into the event. You hadn’t found any. Leaving the security team to their job, you returned to Max and accepted the cocktail he had ordered.

Australia was always a lively place for Red Bull as they gathered a range of their athletes across a dozen extreme sports and created some promo videos for the year. This year was no different with a party to kick off the week long trip down under and it was more than just the Red Bull family in attendance.

“What’s wrong, liefje?”

You shook away the lingering feeling that something was amiss and draped your arms around Max. “Nothing, baby, I’m just a little on edge.”

“I thought things were going well with the Board?”

You scanned the room for the current Ferrari drivers, and the future one, spotting them all in separate areas and deep in conversation. “They are, I haven’t been able to find anything planned yet but it doesn’t mean they won’t try something.”

“Relax,” he soothed as he kissed his way across your collar and up to your lips. “You can have the night off worrying. I want my girlfriend not my bodyguard.”

“Maybe if you stop winning all the time I will be able to relax,” you teased. “You’re just too damn fast, baby.”

Max’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he dipped his head to your ear. “I went slow last night, didn’t I? I think I got in trouble for that too the way you begged me to go faster.”

The witty retort you had to torture him with was lost as two men stumbled over their feet and knocked into Max. Unsure of their intentions you shoved them back and stepped in front of him protectively but all they could sum up were a few drunken expletives at your lack of hospitality. It was only going to get worse when you signalled for security to escort them off of the premises.

“It’s fine, liefje, I’m safe, we’re safe,” Max soothed as he rubbed your tense shoulders. “Have another drink with me.”

You turned to the bar and reached over the counter for two shot glasses and a bottle of vodka. “I don’t know how many more 1-2 finishes I can survive,” you admitted as you tapped his glass and downed your shot. You could feel the desperation growing with each Ferrari board meeting but it was the meetings that were happening in the shadows that concerned you more. The only reprieve was that Mercedes had started the season off poorly so it was one less team for them to worry about competing with. “I think we should hire more personal security for you and maybe Checo too now.”

“Do you know what I think? I think you worry too much.” Max laughed at the roll of your eyes in response.

“One of us has to be the responsible one.”

Max took your shot glass and the bottle of vodka, placing them on the bar top before taking your hand and giving it a small tug.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m being the responsible one and taking you back to the hotel,” he said with a grin. “A bottle of wine in the jacuzzi with you is much safer.”

There were plenty of drivers parked outside the venue for when guests wanted to leave and the valet waved one forward. Plastic barriers kept fans back, photographers snapped shots for the newspapers and police lined the entrance for anyone that grew too bold. You scanned both sides of the tiled floor for anything out of place and shifted as you saw a flash catch the glint of metal.

When the gunshot rang out, your first thought was of Max. He had only been a few feet behind you, but with the crowd that had gathered in the hopes to get an autograph you had lost sight of him. Had he been hit? Had he ducked along with everyone else? You dared a glance over your shoulder and found he had been quickly covered by the policemen while the man you had spotted tried to make his escape. 

Max’s leather jacket billowed at your sides as you sprinted after the shooter and you heard his voice over the screams of panic, he was calling you back, but there was no way you were letting the man get away. You made it two blocks before he dove into the back seat of a black sedan and fired off a few wild shots as it shot away from the curb.

Grabbing your phone from your pocket you dialled Max’s head of security and it picked up on the first ring. “1NF 2DU, Toyota Caldina,” you panted as you leaned against a building and watched the car disappear around the corner. “Male, early 30’s, brown hair, and fucking short. 9mm Beretta Nano.”

“Got it,” Harry noted before the phone was jostled. “Schatje, where are you? Are you alright?”

You looked down at the tear in his jacket and pulled it aside to see blood soaking your blouse beneath. You closed your eyes as the burning spread to your lungs and your panting grew more laboured. “I’m fine, baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, they won’t let me leave,” he growled the last part at Harry who was holding him back from chasing after you.

“Good…that’s good…you’re good,” you sighed in relief and slid down the brick wall. “I love you, Max.”

You heard what could only be described as a roar of pain before the line died and you were left looking at the background image on your phone. You had never been happier than that moment of waking up in Max’s arms on a lazy Sunday before the season began, your head on his bare chest and Achilles curled up on your feet with Jimmy and Sassy. The daily stresses of life hadn’t begun to claw itself to the forefront of your mind and nothing existed outside of those four walls.

 As a teenager you lived life a day at a time, not caring if it was the last one because you had never had something to look forward to. Now, the longer you stared at that photo, determination grew stronger than the pain in your chest and you cut your palms on the brick as you pulled yourself to your feet. 

“Liefje! Y/N!” Max’s voice carried above the sound of sirens and you tried to call back to him but only a hacking cough sawed through your lungs and your vision dimmed. “Where’s the fucking ambulance?”

Your steps faltered as you followed his voice and when your legs collapsed beneath you his strong arms were there to catch you.

Max thought about just going to the car but there was a young boy holding out a cap and he couldn’t leave the little guy disappointed. He looked up to tell you he would just be a moment when he saw you shift suddenly, then the gunshot rang out. Everything moved so quickly as bodies surrounded him and the crowds screamed in the chaos, and he lost sight of you making chase down the street. 

“Max, stay down, we’ll get you out of here,” Harry stated calmly as he pulled Max away from the policemen. 

“I’m not going anywhere without Y/N.”

“These are her orders, shh,” Harry growled as he saw your contact calling and answered in an instant, listening intently. “Got it.”

Max snatched the phone from Harry before he could hang up. “Schatje, where are you? Are you alright?”

The pause was long enough for him to hear his heartbeat in his ears and when you finally answered your voice didn’t sound quite right, “I’m fine, baby, are you okay?”

Max looked at Harry who was using his muscle mass to build a wall between him and the street you had run down. “I’m fine, they won’t let me leave.”

“Good…that’s good…you’re good.” Your voice was growing quieter as he grew more agitated. “I love you, Max.”

Max looked at the floor where he had last seen you and noticed the darkened spot of blood stains that led away from him. Strength he had never known flooded through him and not even Harry’s arms that were as thick as Max’s thighs could hold him back. His trousers threatened to rip from the long strides and the quick pace of Max’s sprint and he screamed for you, praying for an answer as he followed the blood drops down the street.

Max knew there were people following him as he ran to the silhouette he innately knew was you. “Where’s the fucking ambulance?”

“On its way.”

The street lights illuminated the pain etched in your face when you tried to walk to him but your legs collapsed. “I’ve got you, liefje, I’ve got you,” Max promised as he felt his hands grow slick with the blood leaking out of your side. “I’m not letting you go.”

Max could count on his hand the number of times he had felt true fear. He remembered the way his mother cried when she had him down to tell him she was leaving and how she wished she could take him too. He could remember the sound Achilles made when the neighbours dog escaped their property and chased him. He would always remember the look in your eyes before they closed.

For three days Max sat at your side, only moving from the room when you were wheeled away for scans and tests. Christian stopped by each night for an update that hadn’t changed and flowers arrived from the Board but Max dumped them straight in the bin, but other than that the room was empty and quiet. 

Max knew he wasn’t liked by a lot of people but he never really believed that his life had become a target. You loved that he was still naive to the dark side of the sport and you happily became the shield that protected him from the innocence that had long been stolen from yourself. It was why you put yourself into the trajectory of the bullet meant for him. 

Max could still see the footage that Harry had found from the lobby cameras. He had nearly thrown the laptop across the room where he waited for you to come out of surgery. That minute shift, the smallest of movements, had saved him - but at what cost?

“I found a little house,” Max said quietly as he held your hand. “It has an orchard and plenty of space for our babies, and no city around for miles. It needs some things fixed up before we could live there, but it sounds like a good place to retire.” He closed his eyes and lay back in the uncomfortable chair, your hand still resting in his so he could feel for any sign of life.

“I didn’t die just for you to retire now,” you rasped, your throat dry and voice hoarse.

Max was on his feet in an instant, capturing your face delicately as he kissed you with a sound that was some cross between a sigh of relief and a joyous laugh. “You didn’t die, liefje, I couldn’t have survived that.”

“I’m pretty sure I met the devil,” you groaned as you tried to sit up, “he spoke Italian.”

“That’s just Benedetto,” Max said with a flat laugh, placing a hand on your shoulder to stop you moving while the other pressed the call button. “You need to keep still.”

You weren’t impressed by the intrusion of the doctors and nurses who came flooding in and after answering dozens of pointless questions, because yes you were in pain after being shot, they finally left again. 

“They’re just doing their job,” Max murmured as he found space on the bed to sidle in with you. He carefully shifted you so that he could lay his arm out before tucking you in to rest your head on his shoulder. “Let them prod and poke you until they are satisfied you are completely healthy again.”

“I just want to go home-hey! Why aren’t you at the track?”

“Did you seriously think I would leave you?” Max shook his head at the idea and kissed your forehead. “You risked your life to save mine, I know exactly where I want to be.”

The stitched in your side stretched as you craned your head back so he could reach your lips. You had thought there would never be another kiss so you were going to savour the feeling that came with it. “I love you, Max.”

“Ik hou van jou.”