#Long fic is... long... not long yet but...

[entitled-fangirl]

I'll always be thanking you.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: The reader goes through postpartum depression after she gives him yet another girl. Cregan reassures her that he loves his daughters.

Warnings: postpartum depression, recovering from childbirth, sexist culture

Masterlist

A/n: it's a two fic kinda day

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It had happened so suddenly.

Cregan thought all was right in the world. Everything was set in place by the Old Gods as it should be. Everything was perfect.

But he knew that the last two pregnancies had been unkind to her, prompting a horrid depression after them that went on for months. But when it hadn't shown yet for this last one, he thought that perhaps it had stopped completely.

Until now.

He stepped into their chamber with a broad smile, lightly bouncing the two-year-old on his arm. Arya. She giggled with each one, the sound distorted with the force of the bounces. Witnessing the intimidating man turn soft for the little girl was entirely endearing. 

"Your mother is still in bed," he chipped lightly as he observed his wife covered by the furs they shared every night.

"She always in bed," Lyanna, their five year old said as she trailed behind them.

"Not always," Cregan corrected firmly. "She just gave us your new sister. It takes a long time for the body and mind to recover from something that great."

A small shaking of his wife's shoulders from her laying form in the bed caused him to worry slightly. "Lyanna, why don't you take your sister?"

She wanted to complain but knew better than to argue with her father. She took the toddler's hand and they walked out from the room.

Cregan's recovering wife laid in their bed, completely unmoving except for the small shoulder shake he'd seen. It was a quiver and it sent him on edge. She only ever did that when-

"Are you crying?" He whispered as he sat on the bed, her back to him.

Finally she turned. She had been awake the entire time. Her face was red from crying, the paths of her tears evident on her face. Her lips pouted down as she suppressed a sob.

Cregan was quick to comfort her. He practically laid his body over hers, keeping an arm around her to let her weep into his collarbone. And she did so.

He cooed every few moments, his free hand rubbing at her hair. The tears pained him almost as much as watching her endure the harsh labor only a two weeks before.

When the violent part of the crying was over, he pulled her face away to look at her. "Now," he caressed her cheek, "What is all this for?"

She sniffled and hiccuped between words. "It's just… just… Sarra."

His face fell. "Is something wrong with the babe?"

"No. It's just…" she caught her breath. "Another girl."

Cregan's head tilted. "It is," he reckoned. "What is the problem, my love?"

"Can I not give you a boy?" She whispered in fear of the answer.

Realization flooded Cregan. "You're doing nothing wrong," he assured. "I love my girls with all my heart. Did you want a boy this badly?"

"I just want you to be proud of me."

He visibly flinched. The thought of his postpartum wife crying over giving him a healthy baby was too much for him. "I'm proud of you. You've given me three girls now."

"But it's not a boy." Her eyes continually welled up with tears. "I was so sure it was a boy."

"Do you think me that shallow, dear wife?" He asked in a firm tone. "That I'd have you birth children until I got a boy?"

"Two," she corrected. "You need an heir and a spare and I-" her breath caught. "I cannot even give you one. A cursed womb-"

"Don't say that." His voice was a firm growl, his hand grabbing her jaw a bit harder than he meant to. "Do not say that."

A few tears ran down her cheeks.

Cregan forced a sigh and let his anger die down. He sat up a bit, giving her space. "Do you think that all I wanted in this world were two sons? Do you think that is all my heart desires?"

It was clear that she knew deep down how ridiculous she sounded. "Well-"

"-I've said it many times. What does my heart desire? Hmm? What brightens my day more than the sun?"

She let out a breath through her nose.

Cregan continued, tilting his head down to catch her gaze. "My wife and what? What else?"

"Your children," she whispered.

"Hm?" He asked, though he clearly heard it. He just wanted her to say it once again.

"Your children," she said a bit louder. 

He smiled. "Yes, our children." He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Whether we had had one or you give me an army, I shall love them all until my remains in the crypt are long gone. Being a boy or girl doesn't change it."

"But… Winterfell-"

"-We'll deal with the succession when it is meant to happen. Until now, you're going to rest, and I'm going to spend time with our children. But I'm not going anywhere until you've done your part."

"The maester said it would take much longer to heal this time," she muttered. To herself or Cregan, she wasn't sure.

"That's alright. We've got all the time we need for now, don't we? No need to rush things."

"But the sooner we try-"

"-No-"

"-And Sarra was such a surprise-"

"-Stop-"

"-The next one could be sooner-"

"-Love," he said with a slightly raised voice. "When you're healed and ready to try once more, I will be eternally grateful. But I can wait a lifetime if I need to. I have all I need in the world already."

There was a small knock on the door. "Papa?"

No doubt it was Arya.

Cregan grinned and kissed his wife's temple before going to the door. In the doorway stood little Arya, her hair a sandy brown like Cregan's, her bright eyes like her mother. "What do you need?" It was a firm ask from him, but not one without care.

Arya had yet to say complete sentences yet, only a few  words here and there and the lord would be forced to try to make sense of them. She babbled about something and Cregan's brows raised, completely at a loss. "Um… I-"

"Here, darling," Y/n's soft voice came from behind Cregan as she walked to them. In her hand was Arya's doll that she had no doubt dropped earlier. It was a carefully sewn piece from Cregan's bastard sister, Sara, of whom the new babe was named after. "I see Aunt Sara got a new dress for her, hm?"

Arya grabbed the doll quickly from her mother and hugged the doll tightly. 

Cregan wrapped an arm around his wife. He wanted to scold her for getting up but he would refrain from that for now. "Aye. A very pretty dress," he tried to compliment. Cregan didn't know the first thing about sewing or doll making, or even the fashion of ladies, but he tried anyway to please his girls.

Arya's brows came together in clear confusion, prompting his wife to lightly elbow him. He gave a grunt and gawked.

"It's a battle dress," she spoke through her teeth. "It's a doll dressed like a female warrior."

He decided to go along with it, though he clearly didn't understand it. "I mean, what a very fierce dress. Seems very… protective."

Arya accepted that answer and held the doll out for Cregan to truly see. His gruff hand reached out and took the doll, bringing it up to his level to admire. His sister had done well with it, even he could see that. "So very pr-" he caught himself. "So very strong."

Arya jumped up to grab the doll and Cregan handed it back to her. The two parents watched her take off again like nothing had happened. 

"How'd you know what she wanted?" He asked his wife.

She rubbed at her tired eyes, ignoring the slight ache in her thighs. "She said so. Didn't you hear it?"

"We have three lovely girls and I still have so much to learn," he remarked, amusement oozing from his voice.

She gave a tired grin at that. She began leaning more into him than before and he held her hips taught. "Now," he remarked, "to bed with you."

"Sarra might need me-"

"-I'll check on Sarra."

"And Lyanna was hoping to play outside-"

"-I'll see to it."

"And Arya-"

"-What of Arya?" He asked quietly.

She paused. "I- She always needs something."

He let out a deep chuckle, guiding her back to the bed. "I'll see to it all. I promise you. I can be a father, whether you believe that or not."

She hummed. "I do."

"Alright. Then let me." He kissed her cheek, his scruff rubbing at her skin. "We'll get you in bed."

"Can the girls visit later?" 

He couldn't deny those bright eyes of hers. The same ones each of his girls inherited. It was his one weakness. "After you sup, then yes. But that is in a few hours."

Relief and excitement pulled at her shoulders, a comforting feeling washing over her. "Thank you."

As he tucked her back into the bed, he smiled at her. "Don't thank me. You've given me everything. I'll always be thanking you."

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Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar @kidd3ath @yujyujj @misswynters @cosmosnkaz @sithapprentice @kaniromi @lovemesomevesey @its-jackie-bb @thorins-queen-of-erebor @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn @callsignwidow @a1lexh-blog @alyssa-dayne @ethereal-athalia @ashovertheriver @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @dozcan123 @wangjiangelangel @kamitargaryen @aegonswife @lv7867 @helpmedecideaname @cherryheairt @classicsimpforaaronwarner

[notsodailycake]

Part 3 for the fitclet I did for @keferon 's mecha pilot jazz au! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

For those who missed it:

Part 1 || Part 2

This is probably the longest out of all the 3 parts, dear god, I went all in. It came out bigger than I ever expected it to be. I was not expecting it to go this far honestly, but the parasites in me, they begged for more. So here we are! :D

Again tho, idk how in character they will be here, but I tried my best ＼(*T▽T*)／. Also, kinda bullshitted my way through in worldbuilding bc idk how things work exactly- and I had to come up with stuff on my own, even tho I'm not that good in mecha world stuff, so I'm sorry for any inaccuracies ^^;;

Now, to give credit to those who so desperately deserve it:

My sister @saltynsassy31 for helping me when I couldn't write out some of my ideas and doing it herself (so consider this as a bit of a frankenstein monster of both our writing styles, mainly during intense scenes. If there is any fancy words in this, it's cuz of her) and being my beta reader for this part. Seriously yall, this wouldn't have been as coherent and well written without her help!

Also huge thanks to my online sister @yayadrawsthingz for helping out when I hit a few road blocks during this!

And finally, a huge huge thanks to my honorary online uncle @hexyz09 for helping me finish off the final fight scene when I got stuck during some plot holes and road blocks, or generally just writing myself into a corner and having to help me leave it, despite not knowing jackshit about the au, let alone the ship and characters themselves, but was still willing to help me through in working on the plot, in this crazy obsession of mine XD

Yall have no idea how much help these guys were. Probably wouldn't be able to finish without either of their help ᕦ(òωóˇ)ᕤ

Oh and an honourable shoutout to the song "Headlock" by Imogen Heap! Kept listening to this on loop as it kept my drive up to write this.

Now onto the fic!

---

Prowl ignored Jazz's various attemps to push out his servo from the cockpit. Despite the mech being weak himself, the human was still no match against thousands of pounds of metal, especially in his own weakened state.

Which was a matter of its own at the moment. Prowl knew he had very little time to be able to run ahead before the other humans caught on to them, having noticed the alarm bells ringing through the facility.

So he ran towards the exit Jazz had initially pointed out, the only plan they had at the moment.

...

"Prowl! Prowler, hey! I know you can hear me! Prowl!" Jazz shouted as he slammed yet another fist in a failed attempt to nudge the bot's servo out of the way. He hasn't said a word since picking Jazz up, and he wasn't sure how long that was, maybe not that much, but it felt too long yet too little at the same time (what a headache).

Sliding down, he gently hit his forehead over the protective servo and let out a sigh of defeat. No way he could get him to move like this.

Why was he trying to anyways? Didn't he want to be with Prowl? He certainly did, but somehow, something in him made him feel like he shouldn't just be accepting this.

And maybe Prowl also knew this, which is why he took off and hasn’t said a word since. Both held conflicted feelings about the whole thing. If only things didn't feel so blurry right now!

Suddenly, a hard shift made Jazz stumble a bit, grasping at whatever he could so he didn't fall back, loud noises of metal scrapping metal could be heard as something got kicked open on the outside. Jazz scrambled over to the small crevice that opened between Prowl's digits, not enough for him to fit anything over other than his hand, but enough to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Prowl had kicked down the exit door to the lab ('not like he had the hands available to properly open the damn thing anyways' Jazz thought to himself). It was meant for mechas to exit the room after they finish off whatever it is they do in here, that Jazz knew, and if he was right, just down the hall there will be another exit leading to the backroom where they stockpiled the mech suits. No one but the technicians were usually supposed be there, it would be an easy fight to get to the big gate that lead to the outside training grounds, which is why Jazz had pointed for the mech to go down there in the first place.

There shouldn't have been a problem besides giving him time to leave unscathed. Which Jazz assumed would not be the case as he was currently inside Prowl and not buying him time to escape. But, to Jazz's surprise, nothing had come close to attacking them, yet.

The pilot did not have much time to contemplate it as suddenly he heard Prowl rumble an annoyed grunt.

"Don't move."

In shock, Jazz stumbled back as Prowl removed his hand and reached for the end of the overhead gate, seemingly alot harder to kick down than a two way door. The only thing it would really do would be to bend the metal a bit but it wouldn't give an open entrance. Jazz didn't dare leave, not like he could from this hight, but even if he could, Prowl would probably just pick him up again; it be a waste of energy really (just admit it, you don't want to leave him). But something about this felt wrong, so far they haven't had a single guard come down the hall, just this small pause would give them enough time to catch up to the two runaways, Jazz was sure that guards had been on his tail when he was under his rampage.

Unless...

Wait.

"Prowl! Wait don't open that gate!" But he was too late, the moment he uttered those words the mech had already been in motion and pushed the gate up with all his might and as quickly as he opened it a gun shot came through the otherside. They had been waiting for them, they knew where they were heading. The bastard he kicked down prior to this probably saw them and reported it, dammit.

Prowl let out a strangled cry of pain as the shot landed right on his left shoulder (like it wasn't damaged enough by the lack of arm), Jazz fell backwards with the harsh motions, hitting the back of the pilot's seat, the impact leaving his vision to go dark for a few seconds before he collected himself as quickly as he could. In an instant though, just as he tried to get back up to see what was outside, Prowl had put his hand back over the open cockpit.

No...he wouldn't be able to fight like this, protecting him as he is would only hinder the bot to more damage. And that's exactly what Jazz intended to express to the other. "Prowl! You won't be able to fight with your hand over me! Forget about holding me inside, I won't leave, I promise!"

"That's not the point!" Prowl growled, letting out another hiss of pain as more shots were loaded, someone shouting out for them to stand down.

Prowl couldn't risk leaving Jazz exposed. Unlike the human, Prowl could take a few shots, their weapons not being strong enough to inflict any serious damage to his plating (though perhaps a bit to his exposed protoform, though he could handle it for a little while longer). But it would take one lucky shot on Jazz to have him dead in an instant, and Prowl couldn't take that chance.

It seemed like Jazz got the message, not spitting back any sort of remark about Prowl's lack of explanation.

But the mech couldn't linger too much on those thoughts, he had to get out, and fast. He was losing too much energon, and his vision was starting to get blurry, which wasn't a good sign. It didn't help that his thoughts were a hazy mess, his usual ability to think logically overthrown by the panic of needing to get out of this place while ensuring Jazz's survival.

It's not like he had much to do, though. Any possible escape hindered by the fact he couldn't use his weapons unless he risks Jazz's life to one lucky shot. Perhaps he could make a run for it, knock through the mechas in front of him and let them tumble over as he reached the final exit; it wasn’t the best plan perhaps, with at least a 19% rate of success, given he isn't in the best physical state at the moment, he probably wouldn't be strong enough to knock them over. Added to the fact the exit wasn't shut by a gate he could simply knock over easily either, like the previous one. He'd have to push it open from the bottom, and there wasn’t enough time for him to act on it.

But he'd have his back turned to the shots, reassuring Jazz's own safety, so he could perhaps risk removing his servo to push the gate open once more.

With a quick warning from his HUD telling him his energon levels were getting dangerously low, Prowl decided to take the risk, with little time left, he took a step forward making a run for it.

The mechas seemed to ready themselves for his attack, quickly positioning their weapons to target him, closing any narrow space they had between each other.

What they didn't expect was for the mech to charge his whole body weight onto them. Despite not feeling any pain, they certainly could not fight against gravity itself. They all stumbled against each other as Prowl made a mad dash to the gate. He slid on his knees and made a quick reach for the bottom of the gate, anxiously removing his hand from over the cockpit, bending over protectively as to not have anything be able to aim inside.

He could feel his spark beating fast from anxiety, they were so close, they'll be able to leave soon enough. Jazz was most certainly having a good feel to Prowl's anxious beat, the loud thruming reaching the bot's own audials was most certainly deafening to the human sitting near it.

Then, a shot.

A pop.

A blinding light.

And the beat stops.

Jazz was curling in on himself as an instinct to protect himself from the sudden burst behind him. It only took a few seconds for him to realise what that was once he couldn't hear a single beat of a spark, or the burning sensation it left, feeling his own heart stop and drop to his gut.

It felt like the world around him suddenly stopped, everything going into slow motion, with no sounds to accompany the dread. Feeling as Prowl's body leaned foward to crash on the ground.

But just as quickly as the silance came, it left. Prowl catching himself from hitting the ground with a grunt, a slam could be heard as his arm and elbow made contact with the concrete floor. His spark beating, weakly, but beating nonetheless. What felt like hours of silance was only a quick few seconds of deafening dread.

"Prowl!" Jazz called out in desperation, reaching out to hold the edges of the cockpit, so not to fall out, but to also try and comfort his anxiousness as he tried to look up at the mech's face. The mech made a sound of acknowledgement, which came out more like broken static, but didn't make much effort to move, his face scrunched up in pain, optics shut. They shot him on his back, too close to where his spark would be, causing him to skip a beat, and busting a bit of his left doorwing, but it still seemed to function somewhat.

Suddenly, both of them picked up on the sound of something opening, giving no time for either to fully process what had just occurred. Prowl made a quick move to get his hand over the cockpit once more (with slight struggle as he stumbled and fell on his aft) as a thick metal slab emerged from above and beneath, right in front of the gate, shutting it close with a protective layer of metal. Guessing by the red alarm ringing around them, an emergency protocol to keep anyone from leaving. Slag.

The mechas surrounded them, guns all aimed to shoot at the alien mech if he didn't comply.

It was silent for a brief moment, in exception to Prowl's anxious beating spark (which wasn't a problem for Jazz at the moment, the burning warmth being somewhat comforting) and Jazz's own heart beating over his ears. Both catching their breaths.

"There's no point in fighting. So make this easy for all of us and surrender yourselves." A nobody pilot finally spoke out, weapon leaning a tad closer than the others.

The atmosphere felt heavy, they were pinned down. Really, the only thing they could do was surrender, but Jazz would sure as hell be reprimanded for his actions and Prowl.....he didn’t want to think about that. No, he wouldn't even allow that thought to become any sort of reality.

"Prowl" he whispered, knowing only the mech would hear him, leaning a gentle souch to his servo as if to beg, "I know you might not have alot of trust 'n me, but this might be our best shot." There was a tense shift, not too noticeble unless you could see the mechanisms from the inside, Prowl knew what he was about to suggest. "You need to let me pilot you." He cringed as he felt the other's servo stiffen, he wasn't pleased with the idea, and neither was Jazz, but he knew this place alot better than Prowl did, and knew how to properly defeat the mechas, knowing their weak spots. And Prowl was all too aware of that too, Jazz knew it. They both were very aware of it all.

"Please," he begged, leaning his forehead on the mech's servo yet again, "I can't lose you again." There was slight shift, Jazz looked up, though he obviously couldn't see the mech's face, the sigh he let out was loud and clear. The controls on the pilot's seat shifted, Jazz got the message:

'Alright'

He couldn't help but let a small smirk creep over his face, making way to sit down and start piloting.

"Under one condition though," Prowl suddenly whispered to him, though it was alot louder to Jazz on the inside.

"And what would that be, partner?" The title flew out too fast for Jazz to stop himself, feeling so natural to call Prowl partner once more. The mech didn't seem against it though.

"No removing my hand."

Jazz was left stunned for a quick second, though it felt like a minute for Prowl as he waited for a reply eagerly.

"I can work with that." Prowl let out a sigh of relief at that, allowing the human, his partner, to take control of him again.

It took a moment for Jazz to adjust himself, in the meantime, the people waited outside anxiously for the other to make a move. When Prowl finally started to shift around to stand up with a small grunt, everyone raised their guns and loaded them up, but didn't shoot just yet. The mech looked up at them with a deadly glare, but made no move to attack, his remaining arm not leaving the open cockpit for a second, he simply stood up with a slight slump to his posture, doorwings drooping down slightly. In all possible ways, he looked weak and defeated, no signs of fighting back.

One of the mechas walked closer, gun still aiming at Prowl, but it was lowered slightly. They reached a hand out expectantly.

"The pilot, hand him over." They demanded, no sympathy whatsoever.

Prowl clutched his chasis, anger pooling over in his spark, doorwings twitching up slightly, but he made no move to attack. Not yet. He heard Jazz speak to him in a low tone so only he could hear it, with a sigh, he relaxed. He slowly, very slowly, drew out his hand from the cockpit, the action in itself having the other mecha have their body relax slightly as they approached the mech, weapon being put down slightly enough, and so did the others around them. Jackpot.

Before he fully removed his servo, the mech made move to crouch down and in a swift motion swung a peed over to the mechas own, catching them off balance and knocking them down. Jazz let out a small hiss to the action, forgetting his own injured leg, but pushed on regardless.

Using the thrusters of his doorwings, they were able to balance themselves back up, Prowl's servo going back into fully protecting it's pilot once more. With most weapons being aimed up and not down, it took a delayed second to aim correctly, but it was enough time for the human and cybertronian duo to twist themselves out of harms way.

Before the fallen pilot could attempt to get up, Jazz made move to aim over the weak spot of their mecha's knee and stepped hard enough to break its mechanisms so they couldn't stand back up easily. But the glory was short lived as more shots were fired their way.

Jazz's hand twitched to move and use its weapons, but he resisted the urge with a slight huff, "Man, 's hard to fight without an arm!"

"This is none negotiable, Jazz." Prowl hissed as they made move to avoid more shots.

"I know, I know! Don't mean it makes it easier!" Jazz tried to analyse their surroundings, though it was made difficult with the many HUD warnings from all the injuries (the pilot couldn't help but mutter a broken "I'm so sorry" to his partner, whether the mech heard him or not he wasn't sure), but pushing through it, he took note of a few key details. There was a metal catwalk grate near above the mechas' heads, running with a few on ground troops, the bastard of a boss being one of the few amongst them. Near a corner stood an elevator to go up and down the area.

How that could help, Jazz wasn't sure yet.

A shot hit Prowl's arm, pain flowed through the mech as he moved out of the way once more. Jazz looked around in a frenzy to find a place to shield themselves....the mechas! Making a run for to the lifeless husks, he swivelled around between them and hid behind the many rows of mechas knowing full well that they would not risk such precious resource and money just to reach them. At least he hoped not, because he just needed a little bit of time to figure something out.

Hearing the big man call out to hold their fire was good enough indication that his idea worked.

"Ok, now we just need somethin' to distract them long enough for us to make a jump to the ceiling." Jazz explained

"The ceiling?" Prowl inquired, not so certain about his partner's ability to properly think at the moment.

Jazz rolled his eyes, but didn't make mention of the mech's tone. "It's the weakest point here, plus" he made way for Prowl to look up to where he remembered the area to be at, "there's a trap door for flying mechas and emergencies. One quick press of a button will open it up, even under "safety protocols."" Prowl let out a hum in thought, seeming to analyse the situation.

"Possible, but where is this said button?"

"Behind the elevator, by the catwalk grating on top. There's a control panel, and one big red button, can't miss it."

"Would smashing it still get it to work?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't have any complaints."

"Good, now," Jazz went back to scanning the area, "how to cause a distraction?"

"Would that broken pipe be of any use?" Prowl made an effort to twitch his head over to the direction of what he wanted Jazz to see. And just as the mech stated, there, by the first floor of the elevator, stood a broken pipe, steam coming out of it.

Jazz smirked "it would actually. If we can get somethin' to shoot at it, we might cause an explosion, giving us time to jump up without being the target anymore."

"Sounds like a plan." Prowl shrugged.

"Don't have anything to add?" Jazz asked a bit surprised.

"No, I don't." The pilot didn't push.

"Okay. Well, let's get these bastards shootin." In quick motion, they made way to the elevator, already hearing the commands to shoot fire, 'but watch for the machines!' Weapons were loaded from above as well, shooting down at the two runaways once again.

Jazz made sure to move swiftly behind the mechas, making sure they were shielded properly. Any gaps they had to cross was a small risk they needed to take, scrapes and scratches being left in its wake, but tried not to do it too often, just enough that they could follow them. They eventually reached where the pipes were, Jazz took a deep breath.

"Ready, big guy?"

"Ready."

They stepped foward, making sure to call the attention towards where they were, but quickly retrieting back behind the mechas suits as they shot directly where they wanted to hit. "Bingo."

Quickly, activating Prowl's thrusters, they leaped over to the metal grates that stood above them as the pipes behind them burst, causing a huge commotion as empty mechas fell down and whatever machine near the crossfire tumbled down. Prowl let out a gasp as he felt the world around him spin, the grating beneath them not being of any help as it shook with his weight. Jazz was quick to hold on, helping the mech stablise himself before aiming with his left foot to kick the big red button with their ticket out of here, the motion causing his vision to flash in pain, but he bit his toung until he could taste iron and pushed forward.

Hearing the metal door above them open up, Jazz readied himself, but hesitated with the warning he'd received from Prowl's HUD from his low energon levels. He didn’t even get the chance to fully check on it though, Prowl quickly pushing them out of the way himself.

"I'll live, just one more push." The mech hastily reassured the human. Jazz wasn't inclined to belive it though, feeling the other's spark beat anxiously (and for some reason that made him feel slightly dizzy. Though he chalked it up to it being his possible concussion).

It took one shot to slip an inch away from Prowl's face for them to finally snap out of it and jump. One more push from his thrusters as they flew up through the trap door and landed on top of the roof with a grunt, the mech's left wing finally giving out.

But they weren’t in the clear yet. Looking out, a wasteland of a forest awaited them, with dense trees at the bottom.

"We'll have to make a jump for it. If we're lucky enough the trees will be big enough to hide us." Jazz supplied.

"45% of that happening. But we don't have much of another option at the moment." Prowl added

With all that being said, Jazz moved into action. With so much at stake, he had to, he couldn't waste another second in debating. Hefting Prowl up, he used all remaining strength to jump where they needed to go, but as the training grounds began to get closer than anticipated, Prowl knew they didn’t make the jump and that made the mech almost freeze.

Though Jazz had other plans, because as their impending flat doom approached in rapid speed, Prowl's remaining thruster burst to life and gave that final impusle they needed to reach the slope. They both braced themselves as they were thrown up and over to their intended destination, Prowl having half a mind to tighten his hold over his chest so none of the debris and impact could reach the fragile human still in his care.

They rolled down the slope, Prowl just barely being able to shift himself so that he was sliding on his back instead. The aggresive motion of going down a not so smooth path causing bigger cuts and slashes against his already damaged frame. But the only thing he could think of at the moment was that they made it.

Jazz was quick to let go of his control over Prowl, who in turn made an effort to sit properly. Though the sudden slamming to his servo made him look down worriedly, moving it slightly to see Jazz leaning on it desperately.

"Prowl-" he heaved, "Prowl put me down I'm feeling sick."

The mech panicked and quickly made move to help the human down, gently placing him on the grass below. Jazz made no effort in being graceful as he hurled over and puked his guts out, luckily avoiding Prowl in all of this.

Clutching his stomach in pain, his heaving and coughs agitating the injuries on his abdomen. Everything around him felt blurry and muffled as his body made sure to get everything he had eaten in the past day out of him.

What made him panic was the sudden taste of iron in his mouth as he coughed up whatever he had left inside. That's not good. And that definitely didn't escape the giant mech's notice, who kept a hovering servo near him.

"Jazz! Is that blood?!" His voice sounded so broken, static lacing over his words.

"Uh- Yeah. Yeah it is." He wasn't sure how to deny that really, and he felt too light-headed to try. But his attention diverted to the sudden pink glow that landed at the side of his vision.

Energon.

Quickly looking up, he finally got a glance at his partner's battered condition. Energon leaked from many different parts of his body, but the main source being from his missing arm. Jazz couldn't help but cringe at that.

But what hurt him the most to see was the weak light from the mech's optics, which still held visible concern on them. Despite being close to going into offline, he still looked at Jazz as if he's about the crumble into dust and leave him. Which he honestly, maybe, felt like. But seeing Prowl's optics flicker as they fought to stay online, Jazz panicked

"What 'bout you?!" He called back, catching the bot off guard. "You're losing too much energon! You look like you're about to go offline!"

Prowl cringed a little, not having anything to counter that. "Well that's because I-"

"No! I'm only a little bit dizzy, but I'll live. We need to patch you up right now!"

"I can help with that."

The new voice catches the duo off guard, Prowl immediately reaching out to Jazz, hand shielding the human from whoever that might be. Jazz looked down from where he was looking at Prowl and turned to see who it was that the voice came from.

There standing in front of them was a human carrying a simple tool box and a huge backpack strapped over one shoulder, filled with questionable things.

---

BEFORE YOU LEAVE, a little something I would like to point out for the fic, that some of yall with either like or not, during the process of writing this, I've seen a few posts keferon made about the spark being radioactive and such, and it sorta made me think a bit while developing Jazz's condition. So well, take Jazz's health in this as you will with this info :)

But anyways, yippie!! That's all for today folks! I hope yall enjoyed this one bc I definitely had a heck of a time writing this one XD

It got alot bigger than I anticipated and took much longer to finish than I originally planned (was supposed to be done 2 days ago).

Now, I know I keep saying "not sure if I'll make another part to this" but then proceed to do so anyways. But I mainly do so because everytime I shared it someone said something that added to the story somehow and gave me ideas to continue foward.

So like, if yall liked this and wanna see more, don't be shy to suggest/add anything to this as it may help inspire me to add more onto this, cuz honestly idk what the fuck I'm doing rn, I'm just going with the flow ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Also, a bit of note for the doodle, holy shit I did not expect it to look this good!! Tho I suffered with Jazz's suit, plz ignore any inaccuracies tee-hee. Prowl's knee and hands were hell too, especially his knee, but i could like, hide most of it lmao. Actually mainly struggled to not have his hand cover Jazz too much bc it kept covering the parts I actually wanted to show off lmao.

Oh and the guy at the end? Yall can take a good guess as to who it is :)

But since he doesn't have any official design, I kinda went with whatever felt right lol.

I also really wanted to draw out more scenes to add to the fic, but then it would take me a lot more time to actually post the fic as I figure out how to draw robots :'). But maybe I can try and doodle them out another time if I can, no promises tho-

[xo100]

Hi there!! Could I ask Lando with a singer or a dancer reader?? They are already dating, but haven’t made it officially yet to the public. Lando surprises the reader by attending to the readers tour and fans are going feral about him being there, because it’s a “duo” they didn’t knew they needed. After the show he comes backstage to the reader and they make the relationship public with the pictures of them being backstage or something. Just really sweet and fluffy. Thank you❤️

A surprise in the spotlight - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!

*:･ﾟ Word count: 781

*:･ﾟ A/N: hey loves! I just wanted to let you know that I have another blog called @norrisxwrites on this blog I will reblog your reblogs. I’ll reblog my posts and other posts! Go check it out if you want posting there soon! Enjoy the fic!

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

The stadium buzzed with the excitement only a sold-out concert could bring. The energy was palpable, like a living, breathing thing, as fans spilled into their seats with glowing bracelets and homemade signs. This was your tour, the biggest one yet, and it had been months of grueling rehearsals, endless interviews, and nights spent missing the man who’d somehow slipped into your life and turned it upside down.

That man, Lando Norris, Formula 1’s rising star and everyone’s favorite cheeky Brit, was supposed to be halfway across the world, prepping for the next Grand Prix. At least, that’s what he’d told you over FaceTime just two days ago.

But Lando had never been great at following the rules—especially when it came to staying away from you for too long.

-

It wasn’t until the third song of the set that whispers started spreading through the crowd. Something was happening near the back, a ripple of excitement weaving its way forward. The screens overhead briefly panned across the audience, and there he was, seated among the fans in a hoodie and cap pulled low but not low enough to fool anyone.

The stadium erupted.

“Is that Lando Norris?” someone screamed.

“He’s at her concert?” another gasped.

The internet moved faster than the speed of sound. Within moments, Twitter was ablaze with shaky screenshots and wild speculations.

-Are they dating?!- -This is the crossover I didn’t know I needed!- -Lando and Y/N??? MY HEART.-

Onstage, you were mid-chorus, but the sudden roar from the crowd was hard to ignore. Your eyes scanned the sea of people, your heart stuttering when you spotted him. Lando gave a small wave, his smile tugging at the edges of his mouth like he couldn’t quite contain it.

You fought the urge to break character, biting back a grin as you returned your focus to the performance. But your cheeks were warm, and the butterflies in your stomach were undeniable.

-

The show ended with an encore, the crowd’s energy lingering in the air as fans slowly filed out. You darted backstage, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, only to stop short when you saw him leaning casually against the wall near your dressing room.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Lando said, his voice warm and teasing.

You couldn’t help it—you threw yourself into his arms, the scent of his cologne instantly grounding you. He caught you effortlessly, his laughter soft against your hair as he held you close.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your words muffled against his chest.

“Surprising you,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. ���Missed you too much. Figured it was time I crashed one of your shows.”

Your heart swelled. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Only for you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still on your waist. “You were incredible out there. I mean, I knew you were good, but seeing you like this…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You’re amazing, Y/N.”

The sincerity in his voice left you momentarily speechless, your cheeks heating under his gaze. “You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Norris. Though I think you’ve caused a bit of a stir.”

Lando smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way. “Oh, I noticed. Your fans are relentless. Think I saw my name trending on Twitter halfway through the third song.”

“Serves you right,” you teased, but the warmth in your voice gave you away.

-

You didn’t plan to go public with your relationship that night, but when your manager walked in, phone in hand, and said, “We’ve got paparazzi swarming the back exit,” you knew it was inevitable.

Lando squeezed your hand, his touch steadying. “If you’re ready, I am.”

“You mean it?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

He kissed your forehead, and in that moment, everything else faded away. The chaos, the cameras, the noise—it all felt distant, insignificant compared to him.

The two of you walked out together, hand in hand, the backstage photographer snapping candid shots that would be on every gossip site by morning. You didn’t care.

Later, in the car, Lando scrolled through the early posts. He turned his phone to you, showing a picture of the two of you backstage, mid-laugh, your fingers laced together.

“‘The duo we didn’t know we needed,’” he read aloud, chuckling. “Not bad, huh?”

You leaned against his shoulder, your smile soft. “Not bad at all.”

And as the city lights blurred past the windows, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was only the beginning.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also hey anon! If you read this, I hope that this is what you had in mind!

*:･ﾟtags; @spookbusters-jr

[shadowthesim]

you were sitting on the bed with different papers and textbooks spread around you, trying hard to solve this equation that you didn't even feel matt entering the room.

he smiled at the sight of you biting your lip a habit you do when focused that only him noticed

from earth to y/n do you copy

you slightly flinched not expecting someone to interrupt your deep thought

sorry didn't notice you're here

are you stuck in this equation? need some help?

nah I'll figure it out

though you were trying to hide the absolute stress you felt, wanting to assure your boyfriend that you're fine. but he saw the way you've been locking yourself in your shared bedroom to cram your lessons, and how you kept unconsciously biting your nails.

cause as you mentioned to him earlier this week your exams are soon and you're scared of not getting good grades, so he wanted to make sure you're relaxed and not stressed.

i got you someone to help you study

you realized that all that time he was hiding something behind his back, so you might've already guessed who that study partner was.

matt pulled his hand out from behind his back to give you his small plushy mr. wrinkelton. so you excitedly took the stuffed dog and hugged it, feeling the weigh lift off your chest.

thank you babe you smiled softly to him.

you can do it baby i trust you his voice low yet comforting.

you felt grateful knowing that as long as he's by your side you'll always be okay no matter what happened. everything will be okay.

a/n:it's my first time posting a fic so hope you like it + english isn't my first language! so sorry it there's any mistakes, anyway love y'all 🤍 (and thank you @strnilolover for helping you are the best 💐)

devider by: @bernardsbendystraws

@shadowthesim 🪄

[rindreamery]

she likes spring, i prefer winter.

itoshi rin starts to see the beauty of spring through you.

itoshi rin x reader, fluff

itoshi rin had always loved winter. but lately, he’d grown a soft spot for spring.

it had started out as a small, insignificant bud planting itself into his heart during a cold winter. it was subtle at first. it was a glance that lingered a second too long, and then a small greeting that caused a subtle warmth to spread throughout his body. and yet, it was a feeling warmer than any fireplace could provide. you— and these feelings— were unfamiliar, out of place, to him. you were a contrast from the sharp, biting cold he had always wrapped himself in.

you weren’t anything like winter that he liked, with its quiet, and isolating chill; you brought with you something softer, gentler— a blooming in his heart.

the first whisper of bloom was small, barely there. your laugh, that was so airy and melodic, had started to resemble the fragile cherry blossoms. the tickling, fluttering feeling they gave him as they cascaded around him in a pretty dance of pink. he had never truly seen the appeal of it all, a waste of petals, but a part of him thinks that maybe he does now. because oddly enough, it was that same fluttering feeling he felt deep in his stomach, at the sound of your laugh. and he longed to hear more of it.

and then, there was your smile— another, but bigger, bloom. it was full of tenderness and life, something that had started to resemble the spring sun. when you smiled, it felt like the gentle warmth that graced his face while he sat by the window, whenever the rays of sunshine peeked through the spaces between the leaves. it was comforting, like a pleasant lull that threatened to pull him into a peaceful sleep. it felt... weird. he had always preferred the gloomy winter, but he felt himself wanting to bask in the sunlight just a little longer that day.

and then, the final bloom— the one his heart could no longer ignore. the one he didn't want to ignore. “i like you, rin.” your voice, resembling the soothing breeze that came with the spring. the sound of your sweet confession, wrapped around him in a chilly, but welcomed embrace. “do you like me too?”

his heart skips a beat. the world outside seems to fade into the background— the snow around him starts to melt, and the flower beds start to bud with life— leaving only the warmth of the spring sun that has gradually woven its way into his chest.

a fully bloomed affection.

and for the first time in a long while, he doesn’t miss the cold. maybe because being with you feels like spring.

“i like you too.”

note. i know he likes autumn but i had to lie for fanfic purposes 😞✋ also f1! rin fic coming soon !!!

© rindreamery, 2024

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ 0713

ଓ.° ・ simon riley. call of duty. family fic -- simon and reader have a daughter. may as well make this an unofficial series ～(　TロT)σ every day i am victim to the delusions !!

when you first met simon, you quite honestly did not think you'd end up having such a domestic life with him. you've known each other for a long while, been together for less. you've seen each other go through hell and back, worry for each other's safety and return, and here you are now, with a daughter that is exactly like him.

kind of. mostly, you'd say.

personality? absolutely. quiet, reserved-- her, mostly in the sense that she's shy. him, in the sense that he just doesn't like talking to people very much. but quiet all the same, you suppose.

appearances? oh, one hundred percent. brown eyes, brown hair. sharp gaze. you don't know how a two year old has a sharp gaze, but she does.

little quirks? you suppress a sigh just thinking about it. wherever you are, simon is. he's practically your shadow-- so what's your daughter? his shadow. so basically, in summary : anywhere you go? have no fear, you will never be alone. ever.

oh, forgot something in the bedroom? just turn around and you'll face-plant into your husband's chest, and when you recover, you'll see your daughter peek out from behind his leg to see what all the ruckus is. oh, you're going to do laundry? forget the television, make it a group effort instead. grocery shopping? no need to split up to make it faster. he's mapped out the most efficient route around the store to knock out this trip in less than an hour.

yeah. they're weird. but you love them, so it's okay.

you'd like to think that nothing surprises you at this point, until today -- when you're tending to the house, bright and early, only to see a certain half awake toddler and her dad standing in the living room. you pause for a moment, mildly surprised that she's already up. you don't say anything-- just watching, as they haven't noticed you around the corner of the hallway quite yet.

"papa."

"munchkin."

silence. like, a long silence. your brows furrow, and you can't help but tilt your head in confusion and curiosity as you witness the strange phenomenon that is your family. she closes the distance, looking up at him. and in return, he looks down at her.

and they just stare at each other. in even more silence. for a good few minutes. not a single word exchanged. you're just so confused by this interaction that you're about to speak up, but then she raises her arms, and just like that, he picks her up, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead-- his usual good morning greeting to her, you've come to notice.

you stand there in the hallway, confused as ever, as he walks off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her. you have no idea what that was. you blink a few times before shaking your head, joining him in the kitchen to help with the morning prep.

-- so naturally, when night comes, the little one is sleeping, and you're laying in bed next to simon, you can't help but ask:

"what the hell happened this morning?"

he pauses at the sudden question.

"you burned the pancakes, dove."

your eye twitches.

"i did fucking not." you roll your eyes, though you don't put up any resistance as he pulls you closer to him, an arm draped over your waist. "i'm talking about your little stare down today. what was that?"

simon stares blankly at the wall in recollection of the event. a moment or two, then a slow shift in his gaze as he looks at you.

"-- just had a bit of a chat."

"...you both said one word each."

"said it was a bit, didn't i?"

oh, insufferable. weird and insufferable. you give him a deadpan stare, in which he returns full on-- and now you're stuck in a silent staring contest with him. as much as you'd love to try and redeem yourself from the losing streak you've maintained all these years, you understand that one : it is midnight, and you would like to not stay up until three in the morning only to lose, and two : you should be realistic and know that you'll never win.

"stop that." you grumble, hand covering his eyes. "she's gonna pick up on that and start staring into people's souls. it'll freak them out."

he chuckles softly, moves your hand away before lacing his fingers with yours, lips gently trailing down your neck. "not a bad thing. instills fear."

"...i would really like you to not encourage our two year old daughter to instill fear into people, simon riley."

a faint hum of acknowledgement and amusement, then another kiss along your jaw, the corner of your mouth, then your lips. he can't help but notice the feeling of your smile despite your disgruntled words, and he thinks he loves you all the more for it.

"i'll consider it, love."

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER TWELVE ━━ State Championship

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.4K

☆ ━ warnings: underage drinking, smoking

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: covid doesn’t exist in this fic yall. also… we only got like 2 maybe 3 more chapters left 😔���� nearing the end

IT’S MARCH now, and Dani’s life feels as close to perfect as it ever has—though, like everything else in her world, it’s stitched together with careful seams, fragile and vulnerable to the wrong touch. She and Paige are inseparable, their relationship deepening with every stolen moment, every knowing glance, every night spent whispering beneath the glow of a shared secret. They’re in love, entirely and helplessly, in a way Dani never thought possible. They’ve built their own kind of sanctuary, a place where Dani doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to hide, doesn’t have to pray for the version of herself she can’t force into existence. A place that’s home.

Her father is still blissfully ignorant. Somehow, he hasn’t pieced it together, hasn’t realized that the “Beau and Dani” façade is a flimsy excuse for Dani to avoid questions she can’t answer. All that matters is her dad hasn’t found out about Paige, and as long as Dani can keep it that way, she can hold onto this little slice of happiness a bit longer.

Her camera is still her refuge, the one place she can express everything she’s too scared to say. She photographs everything these days: the crackling electricity of Paige on the court, Thaliah and Jalen during their group hangouts, the fleeting, golden light of early spring as it kisses the Minnesota snow. Photography gives her purpose, and in a way, it’s her excuse to be near Paige without raising suspicion. At almost every game, Dani can be found on the sidelines, her lens trained on the girl she loves. Sometimes she’s there for the yearbook, sometimes just as a spectator, but she never misses an opportunity to catch Paige mid-layup, her form perfect, her expression fierce. Those photos always end up in a folder on Dani’s laptop, separate from the yearbook shots, and Dani finds herself scrolling through them late at night, smiling at the way Paige lights up the screen.

Dani’s friendships with Thaliah and Jalen are as strong as ever. The three of them and Paige have returned to normalcy, often found loitering at diners, driving aimlessly through town, or sprawled out in Thaliah’s basement watching movies and laughing about nothing. They’re her grounding force, her reminder that she’s not alone in navigating the chaos of being seventeen and confused about almost everything. Paige fits into their dynamic seamlessly, too, and on the rare occasion they’re all together, Dani feels like the world might actually be okay.

College acceptance letters have been rolling in, and Dani’s future is starting to take shape—though not without its complications. She’s been accepted into every school she applied to, but it’s her UConn acceptance that sends her heart racing. It’s not just the great program or the nearly full-ride scholarship they’ve offered her—it’s the fact that Paige will be there. That, for once, Dani might have a future that feels like hers, not one dictated by her father or her faith or the crushing weight of expectation. But she hasn’t told her dad yet. She can’t. He knows Paige is going to UConn, knows about her basketball career and the national attention it’s garnered, and Dani knows he’d connect the dots too easily. So she keeps it to herself, tucking the letter into the back of her desk drawer and avoiding the subject whenever college comes up at home.

Currently, Dani sits among Paige’s family, her camera resting untouched in her lap. It’s the state championship, and Hopkins is favored to take the title the second year in a row. The student section is a riot of blue, loud and chaotic, but Dani has chosen the quieter comfort of this row, surrounded by people who feel like home. Jalen and his family are nearby, and Paige’s parents and siblings flank her on either side, a reassuring presence amid the frenzy.

On Dani’s left, Drew is practically vibrating with excitement, barely able to stay seated. Every few seconds, he glances over at her, his words tumbling out in bursts. “Did you see Paigey’s spin move?”

“I saw it,” Dani says, a small smile tugging at her lips. “She’s locked in.”

Bob, seated next to Drew, leans forward slightly, his voice carrying over the noise. “She used to practice that on me at the park. Couldn’t guard her then, can’t guard her now.”

Dani chuckles, turning to meet Bob’s grin. There’s an ease to him that she’s always appreciated—an unspoken acceptance. Bob has known about her and Paige for as long as she can remember, and though they’ve never had a direct conversation about it, the way he treats her makes it clear he’s always been on their side.

On Dani’s right, Amy is a comforting presence, quieter than Bob but just as attentive. She’d driven all the way from Montana with Ryan and Lauren to see Paige play, and Dani’s heart had softened the moment the woman exclaimed when she saw her, immediately engulfing her in a hug after over a year without seeing one another. Amy’s kindness is effortless, and Dani feels it in every question she asks—about school, about Dani’s photography, about her plans for college.

In front of Dani, Lauren, restless as ever, leans back against the Callan girl’s legs, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her Hopkins sweatshirt. She twists her head around to look at Dani, her eyes wide.

“Paige is so fast. I wanna be that fast,” she says, her voice barely cutting through the noise of the arena.

Dani stifles a laugh, glancing down at her. “Paige’ll train you if you ask her,” she tells Lauren, messing with her hair a little.

Ryan laughs at his younger sister. “You’ll never be as fast as P, Laur.” Lauren doesn’t say anything, just hits him a little on the shoulder.

And, true to their words of Paige’s quickness, the girl threads a pass through traffic to set up her teammate for an easy layup. The crowd erupts, and Dani’s heart swells with pride, even as she tries to keep her face neutral. Paige’s brilliance on the court always manages to take Dani’s breath away. It’s not just the skill—it’s the way she moves, like the game is an extension of herself, as natural as breathing.

Amy leans closer to Dani during a brief timeout, her voice soft so as not to disturb the boys’ running commentary on the game. “She loves having you here,” she says, her eyes fixed on Paige. “Plays better when you’re watching.”

Dani swallows the lump forming in her throat, her gaze fixed on Paige. “She doesn’t need me for that,” she murmurs, trying to brush it off, but Amy gives her a knowing smile.

“Maybe not. But she lights up around you, Dani. Always has.”

The words lodge themselves in Dani’s chest, warming her from the inside out. It’s moments like this—Paige’s family’s unwavering support—that make her feel like maybe, just maybe, she and Paige could have something not just real, but something lasting.

The game resumes, and Hopkins builds their lead, point by point, until victory feels inevitable. Paige is everywhere—driving to the basket, setting up her teammates, sinking jump shots with a precision that seems almost effortless. She makes it look easy, but Dani knows better. She knows the hours Paige spends on this court, the bruises and exhaustion she never complains about. And so Dani can’t help but beam every time Paige does something spectacular, her pride radiating from her in waves. Drew nudges her arm every few seconds, practically yelling over the noise.

Lauren shifts again, this time pulling on Dani’s sleeve. “Do you think Paige will win?”

“She will,” Dani answers without hesitation. “She always does.”

The final minutes tick down, and the crowd is on its feet, the noise swelling to a deafening roar. Paige drives to the basket, weaving through defenders, sinking the ball cleanly through the net. Dani can barely hear herself think over the cheers, but she doesn’t care. Her eyes are locked on Paige, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of the game. Victory is so close she can taste it.

And, when the final buzzer echoes through the gym, the crowd erupts in cheers, Dani screaming her throat raw, her grin so wide it aches. Hopkins wins, as everyone knew they would. On the court, the team jumps and screams, a chaotic tangle of joy, and in the middle of it all is Paige—beaming, her face radiant in the bright lights. She’s never looked more alive.

Dani can’t take her eyes off her.

Spectators flood the court, and Dani moves with Paige’s family and Jalen’s, weaving through the chaos. When Paige spots them, her gaze locks on Dani first, as if the rest of the world has faded away. Without hesitation, Paige rushes to her, weaving past her teammates and friends.

Dani doesn’t have time to react before Paige’s arms wrap tightly around her, pulling her close. Paige hunches slightly, burying her face in Dani’s neck. Her body is damp with sweat, and she smells faintly of effort and adrenaline, but Dani doesn’t care. She wraps her arms around Paige, steadying her.

“I’m so proud of you, P,” Dani says softly, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat.

Paige doesn’t pull back. Her lips brush against Dani’s hair, and she whispers so only Dani can hear, her voice a quiet tremor of affection, “Thanks, baby.”

Dani closes her eyes briefly, savoring the moment. Around them, the chaos continues—teammates screaming, parents cheering—but it feels like they’re standing in a bubble, untouched by anything outside of this.

When Paige finally pulls away, her parents are watching with fond smiles. Amy steps forward, already reaching for Dani’s camera. “You two, hold still. Let me take a picture.”

Paige grins and slings an arm around Dani’s shoulders, pulling her close. Her other hand lifts the gold medal hanging around her neck, the metal catching the light. Dani mirrors her smile, her own arm draped loosely around Paige’s waist. They don’t need to pose—the happiness radiates naturally, their closeness effortless.

Amy pulls back, glancing at the camera’s screen. “Oh, this is a good one. Come look.”

Dani leans in to see, and her breath catches. The image captures everything—the joy in their faces, the warmth in Paige’s gaze, the way their bodies lean toward each other as if they’re two halves of the same whole.

Paige and Dani meet eyes, sharing a grin.

The moment is brief but perfect before Paige turns to scoop Lauren into her arms, spinning her little sister in a circle. Drew tugs on her jersey, demanding his turn, while Ryan just hugs at Paige’s waist, proud of his older sister. Paige laughs, pulling them all into a huddle.

Dani steps back, giving them space but staying close. She does what she does best, taking her camera from Amy and getting a few candid shots—Paige holding Lauren on her hip, Ryan clapping her on the back, Drew trying on her medal for size. Joy radiates through every frame, and Dani knows these moments will stick with her for the rest of her life.

The state championship trophy gleams in the background, but to Dani, the real victory is right here.

IT’S THE NEXT night, a Saturday, and the house feels a little emptier now. Paige’s mom, Amy, had left earlier that morning to drive back to Montana with Ryan and Lauren in tow, their visit too brief but nice. Paige’s dad, Bob, had also left with Drew, heading to Paige’s grandparents’ house for a sleepover. Dani knows Paige had been invited too, but she’d turned down the invitation with a practiced excuse. “I’ve gotta lock in on my homework,” she’d said, a perfectly reasonable answer now that basketball season was over.

Dani, however, knows better. Paige had needed her house empty for a party in celebration of her state championship win. It’s not every day you lead your team to a perfect season and cap it off with a trophy. If anyone deserved to celebrate, it was Paige, and she wasn’t about to let the night pass without doing exactly that.

Now, the house is quiet but charged with anticipation. Everyone else isn’t supposed to arrive until 8:30, but Dani, Thaliah, and Jalen had shown up early, their small group finding an easy rhythm on the couch in Paige’s living room. Music hums softly in the background, a playlist already on shuffle as the three settle in, waiting for the night to kick off.

Thaliah sits in the middle, her legs crossed, the bottle of Pink Whitney balanced on her knee as she grins at the others. “Pregame!” she announces, her voice bright as she pours the syrupy pink liquid into four cups she’s pulled from her bag. She slides one toward Jalen, one toward Paige, and one toward Dani.

Dani hesitates, glancing at the cup in front of her. She knows the routine well enough—this isn’t the first time they’ve started a night like this. But tonight, the idea of drinking, of letting her guard down even a little, makes her stomach twist.

She shakes her head, gently pushing the cup back toward Thaliah. “Nah, I’m good.”

Next to her, Paige straightens, her arm slipping from Dani’s shoulders as she turns to look at her fully. “Why?” she asks, her tone light but curious, her brows pulling together in that way they do when she doesn’t understand something.

Dani doesn’t meet her gaze right away. Instead, she glances at the bottle of Whitney, at the three cups still sitting on the table, and then back to Paige. The truth hovers on the tip of her tongue, too heavy to say aloud: My dad’s next door. If he hears this party, if he figures out I’m here, it’s over for me.

She needs to be sober in case something might happen.

But she doesn’t want to ruin Paige’s night—not when Paige is practically glowing, her excitement infectious, her smile impossible to dim. So, Dani shrugs, keeping her voice casual as she says, “I’m just not really in the mood.”

Paige narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced. Dani sighs, then adds, “Besides, we both know how you’re gonna end up tonight, so someone’s gotta babysit you.”

That gets a reaction. Paige gasps, clutching at her chest like Dani’s just insulted her honor. “I don’t need babysitting. I am a perfectly responsible drunk.”

Dani doesn’t even need to respond. Thaliah and Jalen both exchange a look, their silence loud enough to say what they’re all thinking: Paige is not a responsible drunk.

“Fine,” Paige relents, leaning back into Dani’s side with a dramatic sigh. Her arm finds its way back around Dani’s shoulders, her fingers drumming lightly against Dani’s collarbone. “As long as it’s you babysitting me, then I guess I’ll survive.”

Dani hums, a quiet sound of acknowledgment, and watches as the others down their drinks in quick succession. Thaliah pours herself another almost immediately, the bottle already half-empty, while Jalen laughs at something on his phone.

Paige leans closer to Dani, her weight warm and familiar. “You sure?” she murmurs, quieter this time, like she’s still trying to figure Dani out.

“I’m sure,” Dani says, her tone firm but not unkind. She offers Paige a small smile, hoping it’s enough to keep her from asking again.

The clock ticks toward 8:30, and the energy in the room begins to shift. Thaliah’s already scrolling through her phone, checking who’s on their way, while Jalen adjusts the playlist, turning the volume up just a little. Paige doesn’t move from her spot next to Dani, her leg pressed against hers, her head tilting to rest briefly on Dani’s shoulder.

The first wave of people start filtering in just past 8:30, the quiet hum of the house replaced by the buzz of voices, the bass of the music turned up to match the growing energy.

It’s not just close friends who show up—there are teammates, classmates, random people from their grade, and even a few who Dani swears she’s never seen before. Paige doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, she thrives on it. By now, Paige is already tipsy—not slurring her words or stumbling, but the telltale signs are there. Her laugh is louder, her smile wider, and her touch more insistent.

Dani feels Paige’s hand on her arm before she even sees her. Paige leans into her, shoulder bumping hers, her other arm draped casually across Dani’s waist like it belongs there. “You good?” Paige asks, her voice warm and loose, her words just slightly stretched out by the alcohol.

Dani nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Paige grins, her fingers giving Dani’s side a small squeeze before she turns her attention to someone else who calls her name. Even as Paige moves to greet them, her hand doesn’t leave Dani’s waist, her thumb brushing absentmindedly against the fabric of Dani’s shirt.

It’s not unusual for Paige to be affectionate, but the alcohol has made her even clingier than usual. Dani feels the weight of her touch constantly—Paige’s hand at her back, her arm slung over Dani’s shoulders, her knee pressing against Dani’s as they sit on the couch. It’s both comforting and a little overwhelming, especially when the house starts to fill with more and more people.

Eventually, Dani manages to slip away. Paige is busy chatting with Jalen and a couple guys on his team, and Dani uses the distraction to excuse herself, heading toward the bathroom for a moment of quiet.

When she emerges, the noise hits her again—laughter and music and the occasional sound of someone yelling in victory or frustration. Dani spots Thaliah near the kitchen and makes her way over, grateful for the familiar face.

Thaliah grins when she sees her, holding up a drink. “Surviving?”

“Barely,” Dani jokes, though there’s some truth to it. She’s still nervous about her dad, what probably won’t—but could—happen, a pit in her stomach.

She and Thaliah end up standing together near the makeshift beer pong table in the dining room, watching as Paige and Jalen take on two of their classmates. Paige is a little unsteady but clearly having the time of her life, laughing and leaning against the table as she lines up her shots. She’s unsurprisingly good, sinking cup after cup while Jalen cheers her on. It’s not long before Thaliah’s getting bored of spectating, mumbling something about needing another drink and walking away.

When Paige and Jalen win, the aformentioned throws her hands up in triumph, her laugh echoing above the rest of the noise. “Let’s go!” she yells, her voice bright and slurred, and Jalen high-fives her enthusiastically.

Then Paige turns, her eyes scanning the room until they land on Dani. Her entire face lights up, and before Dani can brace herself, Paige is weaving through the crowd, heading straight for her.

“Did you see that, baby?” Paige exclaims, throwing an arm over Dani’s shoulder, her weight pressing into her side. Her lips brush against Dani’s cheek as she leans close, her breath warm against Dani’s ear. “I won!”

Dani can’t help but laugh, steadying Paige with a hand on her waist. “Yeah, you did, P. Nice job.”

Paige beams, her cheeks flushed, and leans into Dani even more, her head briefly resting against Dani’s shoulder. For a moment, they just stand there, Paige sipping from her cup while Dani tries not to think too hard about how Paige’s hand is now resting on her hip.

“Dan,” Paige says suddenly, her voice softer now, almost contemplative. “If you don’t wanna drink, that’s fine, but…” She pauses, fumbling with her pocket before pulling out a sleek vape pen. She holds it out to Dani, her grin lopsided and playful. “At least take a couple hits of this. You’re sooooo tense.”

Dani blinks, caught off guard. “I’m not tense.”

“Yes, you are,” Paige insists, nudging the pen closer to Dani. Her other arm tightens around Dani’s shoulders, as if to emphasize her point. “Come on, baby. Chill out, we’re supposed to be havin’ fun!”

Dani rolls her eyes, a small smile lifting her lips as she takes the pen from Paige’s hand. She supposes she is a little tense. “Fine,” she mutters, earning a victorious cheer from Paige.

She takes a couple hits, the smoke smooth and warm in her lungs. It’s not much, but it’s enough to take the edge off, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

When she glances at Paige, she finds her already staring, her gaze heavy and a little glazed over. Paige leans in closer, her eyes locked on Dani’s mouth as she exhales, the smoke curling between them.

“Gimme some,” Paige murmurs, her voice low and slightly rough.

Dani starts to hand her the pen, but Paige shakes her head, a drunken smirk tugging at her lips. “Uh-uh,” she says, her tone teasing as she nods toward Dani.

It takes Dani a second to understand, but when she does, her cheeks warm. Still, she doesn’t argue. She takes another hit, holding it briefly before leaning in, her lips just barely brushing Paige’s as she exhales, the smoke passing between them.

The moment stretches, charged and intimate, and then Paige closes the distance, her lips soft and insistent against Dani’s. The kiss begins softly, almost tentative despite the alcohol in Paige’s system. Her lips are warm and slightly parted, brushing against Dani’s like a question she’s waiting for Dani to answer. Dani freezes for a moment, caught off guard, but then Paige presses closer, her hand cupping Dani’s cheek, and Dani lets herself fall into it.

Paige’s lips move against hers, slow and searching at first, but as the seconds stretch, the kiss deepens. There’s a quiet desperation in the way Paige tilts her head, her fingers sliding into Dani’s hair as if anchoring herself there. Her breath is warm and faintly sweet, carrying the tang of the vodka she’s been drinking, and it mixes with the sharp taste of smoke lingering on Dani’s lips.

Dani’s hand comes up instinctively, resting on Paige’s waist to steady her as she kisses back. Paige melts into the touch, leaning her entire body weight into Dani like she’s afraid to let go. Her other hand moves to Dani’s jaw, her thumb brushing over the edge of her cheekbone in a way that sends a shiver down Dani’s spine.

It’s messy, uncoordinated in the way that drunk kisses often are, but it’s also charged with a kind of raw emotion that makes Dani’s heart ache. Paige’s movements are eager and insistent, her lips sliding against Dani’s with just enough pressure to make Dani feel like she’s on the edge of something big, something she’s not sure she’s ready for.

Paige tilts her head again, deepening the kiss further. Her teeth catch lightly on Dani’s bottom lip, and Dani feels a quiet gasp leave her mouth, barely audible above the noise of the party. Paige takes the opportunity to slip her tongue past Dani’s lips, tasting her.

Dani doesn’t mean to respond so strongly, but her fingers tighten on Paige’s waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between them. Paige responds with a soft, almost needy sound, her nails lightly grazing the nape of Dani’s neck as she presses closer still.

The world around them blurs completely—Dani is vaguely aware of the music, the distant hum of voices, but it all feels far away, like a dream she’s not ready to wake up from. All she can focus on is Paige: the warmth of her mouth, the way her breath hitches every time Dani kisses her back just a little harder, the way she clings to Dani like this kiss is the only thing keeping her grounded.

Paige pulls back just slightly, enough to breathe but not enough to break the moment. Her lips are red and slightly swollen, her breath shallow and unsteady as she whispers, “God, Dani…”

Her forehead rests against Dani’s for a beat, her eyes fluttering open to meet Dani’s as she catches her breath. But then Paige is leaning back in, capturing Dani’s lips again with a hunger that takes Dani’s breath away. The kiss is deeper now, more urgent, and Dani finds herself gripping Paige’s waist harder, her other hand sliding up to rest against Paige’s back.

Paige’s fingers thread through Dani’s hair, tugging gently as she angles her head, and Dani feels her knees wobble slightly. Paige must notice, because she shifts, pressing Dani back against the wall for support without breaking the kiss. The cool surface against Dani’s back contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from Paige, grounding her even as the kiss makes her head spin.

Paige’s lips trail down Dani’s jawline, the kisses wet and clumsy but full of a drunken intensity that leaves Dani breathless. By the time Paige reaches her neck, her lips part, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin there, her breath warm and uneven. Dani feels herself shiver despite the heat radiating between their bodies, her hands reflexively gripping Paige’s hips to steady her.

Paige hums low in her throat, the sound almost like a purr, vibrating against Dani’s skin. “Dan,” she murmurs, her voice desperate and slurred, “need you so bad.”

Dani lets out a soft laugh, unable to hide her amusement at Paige’s sheer neediness. She tilts her head slightly, giving Paige a bit of space while teasing, “Uh-uh.”

Paige immediately protests, her lips brushing against Dani’s collarbone as she pulls back just enough to grumble, “Yes, huh.” Her voice is petulant, like a kid arguing over bedtime, and it’s so quintessentially Paige that Dani can’t help but chuckle again.

“P,” Dani says, still laughing softly, “you’re so drunk.”

Paige finally pulls back, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed, and she pouts at Dani, her big blue eyes glassy with alcohol and indignation. “No, I’m not,” she insists, her tone petulant but her words slightly slurred, betraying the lie.

Dani raises a brow, smirking as she tucks a stray strand of Paige’s blonde hair behind her ear. “Yeah, babe, you are,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “And we aren’t doing anything here tonight.”

Paige groans dramatically, throwing her head back like Dani just told her Christmas was canceled. “You’re no fun,” she mumbles, before collapsing forward and leaning all of her weight into Dani.

Dani stumbles slightly, pressed fully against the wall as Paige rests her head against Dani’s shoulder, her arms wrapping loosely around Dani’s waist. Dani pats Paige on the back, still laughing at her dramatics. “You’ll survive.”

“No, I won’t,” Paige grumbles into Dani’s shoulder, her voice muffled and childlike. “You’re so mean.”

Dani shakes her head, her grin widening. “Yeah, yeah. I’m the meanest girlfriend in the world.” She shifts her weight, trying to stand upright despite Paige’s clinginess.

Paige nuzzles into Dani’s neck, her lips brushing her skin again, though it’s less intentional now and more out of sheer drunken affection. “Still love you, though,” Paige murmurs, her words slurred but earnest, and it makes Dani’s chest tighten in spite of herself.

“Love you too, P,” Dani says softly, smoothing a hand over Paige’s back. “Let’s go sit down, ‘kay?”

Paige groans again, half-protesting, but she doesn’t resist as Dani gently guides her toward the couch. She’s still clinging to Dani, her steps unsteady and her grip loose but insistent, and Dani knows it’s going to be a long night. But she doesn’t mind—not when it’s Paige. Never when it’s Paige.

Paige slumps against the couch cushions, her head lolling to one side, her legs sprawled out in a careless, almost exaggerated manspread that makes Dani roll her eyes, though she can’t suppress the small grin tugging at her lips. Paige looks completely gone—her eyelids heavy, her cheeks flushed, and her movements languid.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” Dani says, brushing her hand over Paige’s shoulder.

“Nooo,” Paige whines, her hand shooting out to grab at Dani’s wrist. It’s a clumsy effort, her fingers barely wrapping around Dani’s arm. “Don’t go.”

Dani lightly swats at Paige’s hand, shaking it off gently. “I’ll only be a second. Be patient.”

Paige groans, letting her head fall back against the couch dramatically, but her grip loosens. “Fine,” she mutters, dragging the word sulkily.

Dani steps away quickly, navigating through the still-buzzing crowd of teenagers in the house. Music thumps in the background, but it feels like white noise compared to the task at hand. She reaches the kitchen and pours a glass of water, the sound of liquid filling the cup drowned out by distant laughter and chatter. Dani moves fast, threading her way back to the couch.

When she returns, Paige is still slumped where Dani left her, looking half-asleep. Dani hands her the glass. “Here. Drink.”

Paige takes it reluctantly, holding the cup like it’s some kind of punishment, but she starts sipping. Her free hand tugs at Dani’s arm until Dani sits down beside her again, and Paige immediately leans into her, her weight warm and heavy against Dani’s side. Dani sighs, wrapping an arm loosely around Paige’s shoulders to keep her upright.

By now, it’s well past one in the morning, and the party has started to blur into a sluggish haze. Dani glances around the room, noting how many kids are still there, laughing, drinking, some making out in corners. It’s chaos, but a controlled kind—the kind Dani knows Paige thrives in, especially when she’s drunk and her walls are down.

Thaliah appears suddenly, stumbling over to them with a grin. She eyes the glass of water in Paige’s hand and giggles. “Mmm, good idea,” Thaliah slurs, nodding approvingly. “Sobering up so you can go drink more later. Maybe I’ll do that.”

Dani watches, wanting to bang her head against the wall as Paige’s eyes light up at Thaliah’s word. “That is a good idea—”

“No,” Dani cuts in sharply, shooting Thaliah—and then Paige—a pointed look. “No more drinking.”

Paige whines, turning her face toward Dani. “Why not?”

“Because you’re already—” Dani starts, but she doesn’t get to finish.

A shadow falls over them, and Dani’s heart drops. She looks up, and there he is. Bob Bueckers, standing in front of the couch, his face a mix of fury and disgust as he takes in the scene before him: his house packed with drunk teenagers, music blaring, solo cups that are undoubtedly filled with alcohol littering every surface. Clearly, he decided not to spend the night at his parent’s house with Drew.

Thaliah freezes, her eyes wide as she immediately begins tiptoeing away from the couch, leaving Dani and Paige to fend for themselves. Paige, still leaning heavily against Dani, looks up blearily, her expression slow to register what’s happening. When she finally recognizes her father, her reaction is painfully on-brand.

“Uh-oh,” she mumbles, blinking up at him with an almost childlike innocence.

Dani closes her eyes briefly, resisting the urge to facepalm. Paige’s drunken state is painfully obvious, and Dani already knows this is going to be a disaster.

“Uh-oh?” Bob repeats, his voice low and dangerous. Then, louder: “Uh-oh?”

Paige straightens slightly, though her movements are still slow and uncoordinated. She raises her hands in a sloppy gesture of surrender, smiling hazily. “It’s… it’s a party! We’re… ce-celebrating.”

Bob stares at her, his jaw tightening as his face flushes with barely contained anger. “A party?” he repeats, his voice sharp. “What the hell, Paige?”

Paige just shrugs, looking far too pleased with herself for someone caught red-handed. Dani feels like she might melt into the couch from secondhand embarrassment.

Bob doesn’t wait for an answer. He looks around the room, his voice booming as he yells, “The party’s over! Everyone out, right now! If you’re not gone in two minutes, I’m calling the cops!”

The reaction is immediate. Teenagers start scrambling for the exits, grabbing their coats, phones, and friends as they rush to leave. Dani watches the chaos unfold, spotting Thaliah and Jalen slipping out the front door together. She sighs, about to stand and leave too, assuming that Bob will want her out of the house as well.

But before she can move, Paige’s arms tighten around her waist.

“No!” Paige protests, pulling Dani back onto the couch with surprising strength for someone so drunk. Dani sighs again, her back stiff as Paige clings to her like a lifeline.

“Paige, let go,” Dani whispers, glancing nervously at Bob.

“No,” Paige mumbles, burying her face in Dani’s shoulder.

Bob, meanwhile, is still ushering the last of the partygoers out the door, his voice firm and unyielding. Once the house is empty, the silence feels deafening. It’s just the three of them now—Bob, Dani, and a very drunk Paige.

Dani swallows hard, her pulse thudding in her ears. She braces herself, waiting for Bob to unleash whatever wrath he’s been holding back. If she’s lucky, she’ll escape this with just a scolding. If she’s not… well, she doesn’t want to think about that. She really hopes he doesn’t end up hating her after this—he’s the closest thing she’s got when it comes to the good father figure department.

Paige, oblivious to the tension, tightens her hold on Dani and sighs happily. “Love you,” she mumbles into Dani’s shoulder, and Dani wants to disappear entirely.

Bob finally comes back over to stand before the two teenage girls on the couch, massaging his temple with the heel of his hand. Dani sits stiffly, her back ramrod straight and her knees pressed tightly together. Paige is draped against her side, unbothered by the tension crackling in the air, her head lolling lazily against Dani’s shoulder. Dani can feel the warmth of Paige’s skin through her sweatshirt, a stark contrast to the icy knot forming in her stomach.

Dani has never seen Bob angry before. He’s always been the calm dad, the fun one, the nice one. But there’s something in his posture now—the way his shoulders slump under an invisible weight—that reminds Dani of her own father. And if it’s anything like that, she’d prefer to run now.

But she doesn’t. Her legs feel glued to the couch, her posture rigid, fingers drumming anxiously in her lap. She fights the urge to bite her nails, her gaze darting nervously between Bob and the floor. The silence stretches on, unbearable, until Bob finally looks up.

His eyes flicker over Paige first, scanning her flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, before shifting to Dani. His gaze lands on her like a weight, making her squirm despite herself.

“Are you sober?” Bob asks, his voice low and steady but with an edge of exhaustion.

Dani nods quickly, her throat too dry to speak. Before she can even think of a follow-up, Paige chimes in, her words slow and slurred. “She is,” Paige announces proudly, as if Dani’s sobriety is some kind of personal achievement. “Said she wanted to be reeeesponsible.” The word stretches out into a lazy drawl, and Dani winces.

Bob’s gaze sharpens as it shifts back to Paige. His jaw tightens, and when he speaks, his voice is harder now, disappointment cutting through every syllable. “I wish that responsibility would’ve reflected onto you.”

Paige shrugs one shoulder, an exaggerated, floppy movement. “Lighten up, Dad,” she mutters, reaching for the hem of Dani’s shirt and fiddling with it absentmindedly.

Bob doesn’t lighten up. Instead, he launches into a quiet but firm tirade, scolding Paige for the party, the drinking, the sheer lack of judgment. The words spill out like a steady stream, but Dani can tell they’re bouncing off Paige, who isn’t even trying to follow along. She’s too busy twisting the fabric of Dani’s shirt around her fingers, her head tilted back against the couch cushion like this is just another ordinary night.

Dani can’t take it anymore. She clears her throat, shifting forward on the couch as she tries to catch Bob’s attention. “We’re really sorry about all of this,” she says, before flickering her gaze over to Paige who looks like she couldn’t care less. “I’m really sorry about all of this. I shouldn’t have let her drink so much. I should’ve kept everyone else more in check since I was the sober one. I’m really sorry.”

Bob rubs his temple again, his eyes closing briefly as he exhales through his nose. “I appreciate that, Dani,” he says finally, his tone softening just a fraction. “I just—look, I think you should go home, okay?”

Dani’s stomach sinks. She knows it’s the right thing to do, knows she probably shouldn’t even be here right now. But guilt claws at her, and she can’t help but offer, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help clean up? I don’t mind.”

Bob gives her a tight, strained smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He shakes his head, saying, “It’s okay. I—I gotta with her.” He gestures to Paige.

Dani nods again, swallowing the lump in her throat. She starts to shift away from Paige, untangling herself from her girlfriend’s grip, but Paige immediately grabs at her arm, her fingers curling tightly around Dani’s wrist.

“No,” Paige protests, her voice suddenly sharper, though still slurred. “Dad, she’s not leaving.”

Bob’s eyes narrow, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Yes, she is,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “No more arguments, Paige. I swear to God.”

The words hit Paige like a bucket of cold water. For a moment, she’s silent, blinking up at her dad with a look that’s almost confused. Dani uses the opportunity to slip out of her grasp, standing quickly and smoothing down the front of her sweatshirt.

She turns to Bob, her voice soft but earnest. “I’m sorry again for all of this, Mr. Bueckers.”

Bob’s expression softens slightly, and he gives her a small nod. “Thank you, Dani. And you know to call me Bob.”

Dani manages a faint smile, relief washing over her. At least he doesn’t hate her. She taps Paige gently on the shoulder—a silent goodbye—before turning and heading toward the door. Paige doesn’t say anything, just watches her leave with a glazed-over look in her eyes.

As Dani steps out into the night, the cool air hits her like a slap, and she pulls her jacket tighter around herself. She spares one last glance at the house before setting a quick pace to her own next door, needing to get out of the cold.

[randombush3]

imgonnagetyouback

alexia putellas x reader

Here’s a notes app fic that came to me when I saw an arcane edit w this song

You’ll see more of me soon x

[…]

Walking into the tunnel is your march home from war. It’s ancient, it’s instinctive: a Roman triumph, prisoners dragged behind you, crowds shouting your name. You have climbed the mountain, you have reached the top.

“Hey, MVP.” A soft nudge from a loser — someone you told yourself you’d have to stop talking to — and the line of journalists is no longer your destination. “You still owe me that drink, three points or not.”

You want to reply but the words never come.

“Everyone will be there,” says Mapi, carrying on. She doesn’t wince like you do, she isn’t the one who left. “We’ve missed you.”

And you’ve missed them too.

You’d packed a lilac short skirt in your suitcase, not sure why. Maybe part of you had awaited the invitation. Coveted it, even. Regardless, the skirt fits you like skin, displaying smooth legs that are no longer scraped and muddy.

The bar is nowhere special. It holds memories already; too many drinks and stumbling onto the pavement, throwing up in a gutter with hands holding back your hair. Things like that. You shudder, bothered more by the woman you share those memories with than the flip in your stomach at the thought of tequila shots.

“You came!” Mapi sounds surprised, hugging you tightly the moment she sees you. You smile, but it never reaches her.

Alexia is standing at the bar, laughing like something is funny. It doesn’t look genuine nor convincing, but her eyes flick to yours and you’re no idiot. You can tell when someone still wants you.

The woman by her side isn’t anything special. Her fingers circle Alexia’s bicep, holding her possessively in her grasp. You roll your eyes. Alexia stopped listening to whatever drivel she was saying the moment you appeared.

“Oh, come clean,” you mouth with a smirk, gesturing to the woman beside her.

You feel a bit bad for her.

You’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, and Alexia’s half-laugh, half-smirk is nothing if not a dare. Strangers part and you have a clear path to the bar, fingers drumming on the sticky surface when you get there, counting the beats before she gives in. And she will. She always does.

Her companion looks uncomfortable, her grip tightening as if sensing the shift in the air. Alexia still hasn’t said a word to you, but her eyes have barely left your face.

The smirk on your lips sharpens as Alexia whispers something to the other woman. She’s trying to be discreet, but you’ve seen this move before. You almost pity the poor girl.

Almost.

Mapi appears beside you, pressing a shot glass into your hand. “Tequila?” she offers with a raised eyebrow. You take it without hesitation, your eyes still locked on Alexia’s, squinting as poison (or confidence) trickles down your throat. Mapi follows your gaze, amused.

“You two really need to sort yourselves out,” she mutters, but she’s grinning.

She wants a resolution. That word is heavy in your mind, stones in your chest and fists constricting your heart. It’s ignorant of nights spent wondering if you’d made the right decision, nights of bitterness blending with longing until they were no longer different. And resolution isn’t why you came.

Tonight, you want a reaction.

Alexia’s companion finally leaves, her expression clipped with forced politeness, and then she is turning towards you fully. Shoulders sharp, broad, tense. She sets her empty glass down and approaches like she is entitled to be next to you.

The hum of the bar disappears. Nothing’s changed.

You break the silence first, stepping closer. “You didn’t seem too invested in that conversation.”

“And you didn’t seem too busy to come here,” she counters. Her voice is low, even, but her eyes betray her. This is not a woman unaffected. You are going for the kill — not that the word’s meaning is decided yet.

“Got the day off tomorrow,” you say, finger tracing the rim of the empty shot glass. “Thought I’d see what I’ve been missing.”

Alexia laughs, strangled and put-on. “Missed us, did you?”

“Missed some of you.” Your gaze drifts over her, deliberately slow, landing on the group of ex-teammates shoved in a booth. She doesn’t like that. Her jaw clenches.

“You haven’t changed,” Alexia says, and there’s something raw in her voice. Something angry. Or regretful. You don’t care to name it.

“Neither have you,” you shoot back. “Above all of it until I’m right here in front of you.”

Her lips part as if to argue, but no words come. Instead, she steps closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing.

“Is this what you wanted?” she asks, voice soft on your skin, emotion loaded in each letter.

You smirk, tilting your head. “Haven’t decided yet.”

But you both know the truth. Alexia belongs to you, whether she admits it or not. Just as you still belong to her. You lean in, close enough that your breath brushes her ear, and whisper, “You were never not mine.”

And just like that, the night tilts in your favor.

[extinctlesspains]

Hi, could you do that Alex and the reader are caught kissing by friends (the reader is from miyagi-do) pleaseee 🙏🏻😭 i need more fics about him

( sorry english is not my first language 😭😭)

𝐶𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡: 𝐴𝑥𝑒𝑙 𝐾𝑜𝑣𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑐

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

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»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐴𝑥𝑒𝑙 𝐾𝑜𝑣𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑐 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑒𝑘𝑎𝑖 𝑇𝑎𝑖𝑘𝑎𝑖 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑜𝑗𝑜𝑠—𝐴𝑥𝑒𝑙 𝑎 𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐼𝑟𝑜𝑛 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑖𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑀𝑖𝑦𝑎𝑔𝑖-𝐷𝑜—𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑏𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡. 𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑖𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝐾𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑌/𝑛.

◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

It was the night before the first event in the Sekai Taikai tournament, and the training room buzzed with the sound of punches, kicks, and the clinking of shin guards. You were deep in focus, perfecting a high block when you saw him. Axel. He was leaning against the wall near the heavy bags, arms crossed, watching you with that cocky smirk that always made your heart race.

Axel was from the Iron Dragons, a dojo as far from Miyagi-Do’s principles as you could get. They fought dirty, aggressive, and without the same respect for balance and humility that Mr. Miyagi had taught you. And yet, whenever you sparred with him—during the rare moments you found yourselves in the same spaces—it felt different. Intense. He didn’t care that you were from Miyagi-Do, and you didn’t care that he was from a rival dojo.

The chemistry between you two was undeniable. But every time you sparred, you reminded yourself that this was a competition. A battle of ideologies. Nothing more.

"Need a hand with that?" Axel’s voice broke through your thoughts.

You glanced up, annoyed at how easily he always seemed to sneak up on you. "I’m fine, Axel. Just working on my form."

He grinned, stepping closer. "I’m sure you are. But I’ve got a few tricks I could show you. You know, to mix things up a bit."

You shook your head, trying to focus, but he was already standing beside you, his presence making the air feel heavier. "Not interested," you muttered, though the truth was, part of you was intrigued.

Axel wasn’t the type to give up easily. He was a fighter, always pressing, always pushing the boundaries. He stepped in front of you, blocking your view of the mirror. "You know, you’re the only one here who still believes in all that Miyagi-Do zen stuff," he said, voice low and teasing. "I don’t get it. But it’s... kinda cute."

Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t explain why, but hearing him say that made everything inside you tighten. "I’m focused on what works," you replied, trying to keep your composure.

But before you could say anything else, he stepped forward, his hand brushing against yours. The contact was electric, sending a surge of warmth up your arm. You looked up at him, and in his eyes, you saw it—the same desire to break free from the rules, to explore something unspoken. Something neither of you could deny.

You both stood there for a beat too long. And then, without thinking, you leaned in. The kiss came out of nowhere, desperate and passionate, as if the world itself had paused. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and for a moment, there was no dojo rivalry, no rules—just the heat of the moment.

But then the door creaked open, and you both pulled apart instantly.

“Oh my God,” Sam's voice rang out, shock and disbelief evident on her face as she stood with Miguel and Robby in the doorway. "What the hell are you two doing?"

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The next day, you walked into the training room to get some stretching done before the tournament, your head spinning from the night before. The kiss still burned on your lips, and you couldn't escape the weight of it. Every glance from your friends, every quiet murmur in the room felt like they knew, like they were waiting for you to crack.

Johnny, however, didn’t waste time beating around the bush. As soon as he saw you, he stormed over, his eyes filled with an angry fire. "We need to talk," he said, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you aside.

You winced as he let go, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. "What’s going on with you? You're a Miyagi-Do student, not some Iron Dragons traitor!" he barked, his voice low but sharp.

You met his gaze, trying to stay calm. "I didn’t do anything wrong."

Johnny’s frown deepened. "Then why were you kissing Axel? Do you have any idea what this could do to the dojo, to the whole damn tournament?"

"I—" You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come. What was there to say? That you had no control over the way you felt? That, despite everything, the chemistry between you two had just been... undeniable? It didn’t seem like something Johnny would understand.

From across the room, you caught Miguel’s eyes. He looked concerned, his brows furrowed as he approached. "It’s not just about the kiss," Miguel said quietly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "It’s about trust. We’re family, and this—this puts that in jeopardy."

"Don’t you think I know that?" you snapped, frustration bubbling over. "I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. And now I’m dealing with it."

Sam, who had been standing at the doorway watching the entire exchange, stepped forward. "So, what now? Are you going to choose him over us?"

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t just a question of loyalty to Miyagi-Do anymore; it was about what you were willing to sacrifice for someone else.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

That night, you found yourself in the gym again. You hadn’t meant to come here, but something pulled you back. Axel was already there, practicing his roundhouse kicks in front of the mirror. He didn’t notice you at first, but when he did, he didn’t hesitate.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. He didn’t sound angry, just… resigned.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you replied quickly, though the words felt false. “It’s just... complicated.”

Axel cocked his head, his eyes narrowing with a mix of confusion and amusement. “Complicated? You kissed me, but now it’s complicated?”

You winced. “It’s not that simple. You’re from the Iron Dragons, and I’m from Miyagi-Do. Johnny’s furious. My whole team is looking at me like I’ve betrayed them.”

He smirked. “So what? Screw what they think. What about what you want?”

You took a step back, feeling the pressure in the air between you. “I don’t even know what I want anymore.”

For a long moment, Axel said nothing. Then, he stepped closer, his voice quieter. “I don’t care what your dojo says, and I don’t care what mine says. I’m not backing down from this... from you.”

Your heart fluttered, and for the first time in days, you didn’t feel like you were carrying the weight of the world. "What if they don’t accept us? What if we’re not meant to be together?"

Axel leaned in close, his breath warm on your skin. "Then we make our own rules."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The Sekai Taikai tournament was the culmination of months of rivalry, sweat, and pain. As you faced Axel across the mat in the final match, every part of you screamed at you to focus, to do what you’d been trained to do.

But as the fight wore on, you couldn’t ignore the underlying pull between you two—the way his movements were both aggressive and fluid, like a force you couldn’t fight. Every strike, every block felt more personal than it ever had before.

“You can’t hold back now,” Axel said in a low growl, his eyes fierce as he aimed a punch toward your face.

“I’m not holding back,” you replied, dodging his strike and retaliating with a series of quick jabs.

The crowd cheered as the fight grew more intense, but in that moment, you realized something. This wasn’t just about victory. This was about finding balance, not just in the fight, but in your life.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The match ended in a draw, but it felt like so much more than that. In the silence that followed, you both stood there, bruised but not broken.

When you finally faced each other off the mat, you didn’t need words. You both knew that whatever came next, you couldn’t hide anymore.

Axel’s eyes softened. “So… what now?”

You took a deep breath, the decision finally clear in your mind. "We move forward," you said, voice steady. "Together. No matter what anyone else says."

And for the first time, you felt at peace.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Weeks later, things between you and Axel were still a secret, but now it was your secret. The rivalry between Miyagi-Do and Iron Dragons hadn't vanished, but it had transformed into something different—something more personal. You and Axel had found a way to make it work, forging your own path in the chaos of competition and life.

Maybe that was what it was all about, you thought—finding balance, not just in martial arts, but in love, loyalty, and living outside the boundaries that others tried to impose on you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: um I woke up to this in my head. Sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You honk your horn as another driver slowly veers toward the line. You’re not letting them in. If they can’t weave in, then they aren’t fast enough to leave the slow lane. You sigh and gesture at them as kindly as you can in that instant. You have enough going on. 

Your phone starts to ring. Again. You tap the button on your steering wheel to answer. You would know who it is even without his custom ringtone. Your boss allows no space for breathing, even on a call. 

“How far out are you, pixie?” Lloyd asks as you growl and lean on the gas pedal. You hate driving on the highway, especially at night, and the sky is steadily dimming. 

“Close,” you assure him. “Next exit,” you flip your blinker on. 

“Thank god. You got everything?” 

Yeah, everything you forgot. You don’t give the dry retort aloud. You know better. Where your boss has no filter to be found, you find yourself often censoring yourself. As much for his ego as for others’. Arguing never gets you anywhere. 

“I believe so--” 

“You believe or you do?” He asks impatiently. 

“Mr. Hansen, I got everything on the list,” you assure him. “All with a bow on top.” 

“A life saver, pix, I swear,” he praises, but a compliment from him is rarely genuine, more transactional. You did him a favour so he’ll give you a treat. 

“Alright, I need to get over, ramp’s coming up. So--” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his ends rustles and you hear a muffled female voice, “I got shit going on too. You got the address, text me.” 

He hangs up first. You can never be the first to end the call. He has to make the decisions. You just know how to guide him to the right one. You merge into the exit lane and follow the ramp away from the whirring stream of headlight. Finally. 

You’re less than pleased to be within minutes of your destination. This isn’t how you envisioned your holiday. A last-minute itinerary change to fix yet another of Mr. Hansen’s oversights. It’s never a mistake, he’s just a man with so much going on that it slipped his radar. Another bandage for his ego. 

The slower pace feeds your agitation. At least on the highway, you felt like you were getting somewhere. The lazy roll of the cars in the town tweaks at the nape of your neck. You just want to be in one place and that won’t happen even when you get to Mr. Hansen. 

You’ll be lucky to have two hours of sleep before you have to catch your rebooked flight. Yep. You’ll play Santa and drop off your lot before hiding at the hotel long enough to dread the airport jungle. Then it’s off to your own familial obligations. Those are rarely enjoyable and being a day later than promised will hardly please your mother. 

Your phone announces your arrival at the destination. The long drive of the over-sized suburban mansion is full. You park on the street and turn on the interior light. You get out and open the back seat. The whole medley of shiny paper and quaffed bows stares back at you. 

You text Mr. Hansen and wait, huffing and puffing with impatience. Of course, you have to upheave your plans to meet his deadlines, but he’s taking his time. It’s not a surprise, not even a disappointment, you expected as much. 

“Pixieee,” Lloyd drags out the last syllable, “there you are, pretty pixie.” 

Pretty Pixie? He’s drunk or he’s going to ask for something else. You brace yourself as his shadow struts up the long driveway and passes beneath the cone cast by the tall street lights. Coloured lights glimmer over him from the eaves of the surrounding facades. 

“Mr. Hansen, wrapped, labelled, everything you requested,” you gesture to the backseat. 

“An angel. A true saviour, pixie,” he surprises you as he grabs your head, his palms pressing to your cheeks as he bends to kiss your forehead, “did I ever tell you you’re immaculate?” 

“Mr. Hansen,” you gently pull his wrists until he drops his hands. You smell the alcohol radiating off of him. 

“It’s the holiday, call me Lloyd, sweet cake,” he insists. 

“Right,” you tut and turn to drag out the largest gift bag, “here, you better just take all this, I have to check-in--” 

“About that,” he ignores the gift as you hold it out. “We’re just about to start dinner, you should pop in, have a bite.” 

“I can’t, Mr. Hansen--” 

“Of course you can,” he insists. You look up at him. His eyes gleam in the spectrum of lights shining from your car, the houses, and the tall poles. You sniff. He’s only tipsy, there’s still the hint of authoritarianism firmly implanted in his tone. “I told everyone you would.” 

“Everyone?” You echo anxiously. 

“The family,” he exclaims as if it should be obvious. 

“Okay, I can come say hello but--” you wiggle the bag at him. 

“Damn right you can,” he catches your hand and takes the bag. He drops it on the ground carelessly. 

“Mr. Hansen, that’s fragile,” you say. 

“Shhhh,” he grabs your hand and you curl and unfurl your fingers desperately, “Lloyd, remember?” He feels around in his pocket as he keeps you in his vice, “now, you just need to slip this on.” 

He struggles to line up the ring with your finger as you squirm in confusion. What is he doing? 

“Mr. Han--” 

“Lloyd,” he growls, all humour trickling away. He squeezes until you whimper. “Look, I just need you to smile and bat those long lashes of yours, alright?” 

“What’s going on?” 

“As far as anyone knows, I proposed to you on Thanksgiving,” he says. 

“Proposed?!” You nearly shriek. 

He hushes you again and finally rams the ring down to your knuckle. “Look, pixie, mommy’s being a real pain in my ass so you just need to play along.” 

“Mr.--” 

“If I have to tell you one more time--” 

“Lloyd,” you gulp, “please. I... this is... strange. What? Why? I have a flight in eight hours.” 

“Cancel it,” he sneers. “Double time and a half for holiday overtime. See the family in the New Year.” 

“What? That’s-- This is insane--” 

“This is your job, honey,” he clings to your hand. “To do what I say or you can spend your January trawling the job boards.” He squeezes until the band digs into your flesh. “Now, I know Mr. Walker thinks you’re darling and he offered you a role last year but once I tell him about your little defiance issue, I don’t think he’ll be interested--” 

“Huh?” 

“I know a lot more than you think,” he grits. “Alright? So let’s start getting this shit inside. That’ll give you a chance to get yourself together.” 

“Lloyd,” you gasp. “Why--” 

“No more fucking question. Since when did you get so uppity,” he barks. 

“Sir--” 

“Ah, none of that, either,” he lets you go and waggles his finger in your face. “Relax. Have some eggnog when we get inside and take the edge off.” 

“This can’t be happening,” you murmur. 

“It’s fucking happening, alright?” He picks up the bag off the ground. “I keep you around ‘cause you’re quick on your feet, Pix, so let’s get to it.” 

“Oh god,” you utter. 

“Keep it to yourself,” he warns. 

Your disbelief has you a bit dumb. You’re panicking. He knows you have an insurance policy with Walker and you have no doubt he’ll do all he can to spoil your future if you fuck around with his present. You’ve worked long enough for him to believe his threats, even when everything else is dubious. 

You turn and grab several gifts from the backseat. You move out of his way and he gathers some more himself. He backs up and uses his knee to close the door. He nods you toward the house. 

“Smile, act like you’re excited,” he commands. 

You pass him and stare up at the blaze of holiday lights. The lawn is decorated with a Santa and sleigh, complete with all his reindeer. You make the march up the walk and towards the glowing windows that trim the front door.  

Lloyd comes up next to you and kicks it, “open up.” 

It isn’t long before obedience appears from the other side. You do a double take at the man who answers the door. He looks a lot like Lloyd but not. He doesn’t sport the same bristly stache and his hair neatly combed, the sides unshaved but tidy. He rolls his eyes. 

“Was hoping you got lost in the snow,” the man scoffs. 

“Shut up,” Lloyd shoulders through, “always a fucking prick, Hugh.” 

The other man snarls, “don’t fucking call me that.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby boy,” Lloyd puts the gifts on the bench against the wall, under the large mirror with an elaborate frame. “Why don’t you go suck on mommy’s teat?” 

“You’re disgusting,” the other man, Hugh, hisses. 

“Speak for yourself. We’re the OnlyFans thot? She not joining us?” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“Fuck you, fuck me, we already did this, remember?” Lloyd faces him. 

“And who’s this slut?” The man tosses you a sharp glare.  

“Woah, man, that’s my future wife,” Lloyd lies so easily it startles you. He sounds almost genuine and you’ve never heard him sound like that. “Not a slut, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.” 

“Huh, I didn’t believe it,” the man puts his hand on his hip as he looks you up and down, “she’s tiny.” 

You narrow your eyes, speechless as they talk about you like a new lamp. 

“Ransom,” Lloyd gestures to him derisively, “Pixie. Now you’ve met so you can skedaddle back to the liquor cabinet.” 

The man, Ransom, snickers, “good luck, sweetheart,” he scoffs. “If you need a drink, just look for me. You probably will. At least for the next forty years.” 

He struts off through the archway behind him and you look at Lloyd. He takes the armful of gifts from you and grumbles. He stops and crosses his arms.  

“Well, get your boots off. Mom will kill you if you’re tracking salt all over her freshly polished floors,” he shakes his head. “And a bit of advice, stay away from my cousin. Ransom’s a fucking pest.” 

“Right, sir.” 

He tilts his head and you show your palms, “Lloyd.” 

“Good girl,” he says and slips free of his loafers. “Now, you’re going to have to meet my parents before anyone else or I won’t hear the end of it. I’ve already got an earful. I know I shoulda booked that resort...” 

You unzip your boots and set them aside on the rack. You stand and he beckons you past the open archway and down the hallway. You take in the decor; gold on beige on ivory. It’s all very luxurious. 

He pushes through a white birch door and warmth enshrines you along with the smell of turkey. There’s a clattering beneath a shrill voice snapping out orders, “oh, not mashed, whipped!” 

A tall blonde woman crosses her arms as she hovers like a vulture over the aproned staff crowded around the large marble island. Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you after him. Your socks slip on the tile as dread coils up your limbs. 

“Mom, she’s here,” he announces as he gets close to her. 

“Ugh, about time, they already set the table and I was dreading the empty plate,” she slithers. She turns her chin down to see you, “Oh, look at her. She’s so... petite.” She levels her hand with the top of your head, “much different than I envisioned.” 

You look at Lloyd as he pushes his shoulders back. You’ve never heard anyone talk to him like that and you’ve never seen him so uptight. You turn your attention back to the woman. 

“Hello, Mrs. Hansen, it’s nice to meet you,” you offer your hand. 

She considers it then grabs it, turning the ring up. You examine the jewel as she does the same, your first glimpse at the thing. She harrumphs, “that’s the ring?” 

“Mom,” Lloyd utters. 

“Mm, very well. Dear, you may call me Gwenyth, not Mrs. Hansen,” she lets you go. “Now, dear son, out of my way. I’m trying to get dinner done.” 

Lloyd stares at her, almost expectantly, the takes your hand again and leads you away. He pulls you back through the door. You don’t dare say a word. He leads you away from the kitchen and the wall of voices buzzing from the front room. He guides you through the archway opposite and around to another door. 

He knocks and there’s a lull as you wait. He taps again. There’s coughing from the other side. “What do you want?” 

“Just me, Dad,” Lloyd answers. 

“Ugh, get in here then,” the timbre calls back. 

Lloyd twists the knob and urges you in ahead of him. The smell of cigar smoke blows in with the cold wind. A gray-haired man puffs by the window, his efforts to puff through the opening sabotaged by the wintry gusts. 

“Close the door. I don’t need the banshee sniffing me out,” he growls. 

“Sure,” Lloyd shuts the door. “Dad, uh, this is her. The woman I told you about. My fiance.” 

“Took you long enough,” the man sneers. You flinch and his grey eyes soften, “him, I mean. Forty-three years--” 

“Dad,” Lloyd rasps. 

“Well,” his father looks you over, “she’s young. Bit small...” 

You do your best not to let your annoyance show. So you’re a little shorter than average. 

“William,” he introduces himself, “and you are?” 

“Pixie,” Lloyd answers for you. 

“Didn’t ask you, boy,” William rebukes and keeps his eyes on you. “You smoke?” 

You mull his question and sigh, “never tried it but I guess it’s never too late to start.” 

William snorts, “truer words.” He puffs, “I don’t recommend it. Horrible habit.” He tamps out the stogie in a copper tray. “Well then, is the food ready, or did you just come to show me your woman?” 

Lloyd stiffens and touches your lower back, “guess I just came to do that.” He mutters, “come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He turns and opens the door. 

“Don’t let the smoke out,” William snips as you spin around. 

[coolnonsenseworld]

A little promo with my little obsession on the side...........

Reminder all items are shipped from Poland - for details on shipping times check out FAQ or send me a private message!

 mmezzy.bigcartel.com

[d-z20]

What We Have Left

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: After surviving the Witches' Road, you and Agatha find solace in caring for each other as you navigate the aftermath—her haunted by nightmares and you recovering from near-fatal injuries. (canon-divergence)

Warnings: physical hurt (R), emotional hurt (A), comfort

Words: 1.4k

A/N: Another request fic :) It took me so long to figure out how Agatha and Reader could survive without taking away from Agatha's character arc so it's as close to canon as possible.

AO3 | Master List

After the chaos of what happened with Rio and Billy, you don’t know exactly how you survived. The last thing you remember is the weight of magic swirling violently around you, the air crackling with danger. Agatha had been ready to sacrifice herself, a final act of redemption that would have consumed her completely. But something had shifted in the moments before her fate was sealed—your desperate magic, unpredictable and wild, surged in response to her intent. In a flash, it felt as though time bent, reality warping around you both. A surge of energy, as if the universe itself had decided you were both not yet finished, had pulled you from the brink of destruction.

But it had also sent you flying backward. 

You’d crashed into a jagged outcrop of stone, your already fragile body sustaining more injuries. A deep wound had opened along your side, nearly severing you in half, and your chest felt like it was caving in with each strained breath. It wasn’t just exhaustion; it was the real fear that you wouldn’t make it. You were too close to death, the darkened edge of your vision creeping in, when Agatha’s hand in yours had pulled you back from that final brink. You weren’t sure how, but it felt like she was holding you together in those final moments before you slipped into unconsciousness.

—

Your injuries keep you from being able to get upstairs, so you spend your days and nights on the couch trying to recover. Agatha promises to stay close, swearing she’ll sleep in the armchair beside you. But every night, you wake to find her pacing instead, her movements restless and agitated, her silhouette framed by the faint light above the stove.

The house is quiet tonight, save for the rhythmic sound of Agatha pacing in the next room. The soft creak of the floorboards betrays her unease, a subtle sound that feels much louder in the stillness. You know the routine by now—she doesn't scream out or cry, but she can’t seem to stay still. She’s trying to outrun something, her breath coming quicker, hitching in the air as though there's a monster that won’t let her rest. The nightmares are worse tonight. You can feel her anxiety through the walls—a tension in the house that makes it hard to breathe.

You lie back on the couch, a thin blanket draped over your legs, shifting carefully to avoid pulling at the bandages wrapped around your ribs. The dull ache is persistent, a reminder of what the Road has taken. What it has demanded.

“You’re awake.”

Her voice startles you, and you turn your head to see her standing in the doorway. She looks dishevelled, her hair wild and her lips chewed raw. Agatha Harkness, once a picture of control and sharp wit, seems smaller these days. Her sharp, calculating eyes are clouded now.

“So are you,” you reply softly, watching as she crosses the room and lowers herself into the chair beside you.

She looks at the floor, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “I didn’t mean to wake you. The dreams... They’re worse tonight.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing hers gently. “You didn’t wake me. Couldn’t sleep from the pain anyway.”

Her eyes flick to your bandages, her gaze lingering on the blood seeping through them. Her face tightens in frustration, but there’s something darker beneath the surface—a flicker of panic in her eyes. Her hands tremble as they hover near your side, as though she wants to help but is afraid to make things worse. She’s breathing faster now, her chest rising and falling with each uneven inhale. “You’re still in pain.”

“It’s manageable,” you lie, though you know she can see right through you. She always does.

Agatha stands abruptly, her movements sharp. “Let me change the dressing. It’ll help.” She doesn’t wait for you to agree, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with the first aid kit.

She kneels by your side, her hands surprisingly gentle as she helps you sit up, unwrapping the bandages with practiced precision. Her fingers linger on the jagged cut running along your side.

“This one’s healing slower than the others,” she mutters, more to herself than to you.

You wince as she cleans the wound, but you keep your focus on her face. Her brow is furrowed, her lips pressed into a tight line. She is concentrating, but you can see the tremor in her hands.

“Agatha.”

She doesn’t look up. “Almost done.”

“Agatha.” Your voice softens. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Her hands still. For a moment, the only sound is your breathing, uneven and shallow. Then she shakes her head. “It was, though. I led us there. I put you in danger.”

“And we both survived,” you counter. “That’s what matters.”

She finishes rewrapping the bandage in silence, her hands lingering on your side before pulling away. She sits back on her heels, staring at the floor.

You reach for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She hesitates, her eyes flickering toward the window as if searching for an escape. But then her gaze softens, and she looks back at you. “I see them, you know,” she says quietly. “In my dreams. The ones we lost. Lilia, Alice, Mrs. Ha—Sharon... I see them; I hear their voices.”

Her voice cracks, and she quickly looks away, but not before you catch the glint of tears in her eyes.

You lean forward, wincing as pain flares in your ribs. “They don’t blame you, Agatha. None of them do.”

“How would you know?” she whispers, her tone tinged with bitterness. “You can’t know.”

“Because I know you,” you say firmly. “And I know you did everything you could.”

Her expression crumbles, and for a moment, she looks so much younger, so much more fragile than you’ve ever seen her. The indomitable Agatha Harkness, finally undone by the weight of her own guilt.

You cup her face with your hand, your thumb brushing away a tear that slips free. “Agatha,” you murmur, your voice soft. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

“And what about you?” Her eyes open, sharp and searching. “You’re the one who nearly died, and you’re still acting like you have to take care of me.”

“I want to take care of you,” you say simply.

“I’m not sure I deserve it,” she murmurs, her voice cracking. Her hands shake slightly as she tugs at the hem of her sweater, the fabric clutched too tightly in her fists as if trying to steady herself. She won’t look at you, but you can see the tremor in her jaw. It’s a subtle thing, but you know that she’s fighting against something much bigger than just guilt. There’s a panic beneath it, a fear that maybe she can never escape what happened, that the person she is now—the one who’s failed so many—is someone who doesn’t deserve forgiveness, or love, or even peace.

“Too bad,” you say with a weak smile.

Agatha’s hand comes to rest over yours, holding it against her cheek. “You’re a stubborn witch,” she says, a hint of her usual wit breaking through.

“Takes one to know one,” you reply, your smile growing.

For a long moment, the two of you stay like that, the silence between you no longer heavy but filled with something softer.

“I didn’t actually know what I wanted from the Road,” you say suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Agatha’s eyes open, and she looks at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What do you mean?”

“I thought I wanted knowledge,” you admit. “Or power. Or maybe to finally understand myself.” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “My magic’s always been... all over the place. Never strong enough in one area to fit anywhere. Protection spells don’t hold long, potions are hit or miss, divination’s a disaster... I thought the Road could give me something to make me belong.”

“And did it? Since Billy’s maybe made it real and all that,” she asks softly.

You nod your head. “Yes. It gave me you.”

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, you think you’ve said too much. But then she leans forward, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it makes your heart ache.

It isn’t a kiss born of desperation or passion. It’s something quieter, something fragile. A shared promise that, no matter how broken the two of you might be, you’ll face it together.

When she pulls back, her hand lingers on your cheek. “I don’t deserve you,” she murmurs.

“You do,” you say firmly.

For a long moment, she’s silent, her lips pressed together as she absorbs your words. You can almost see her mind racing behind her eyes, calculating the weight of your reassurance. Her expression shifts just slightly, and for the first time since the Road, you see a flicker of something like peace in her gaze—a brief, fragile relief that she doesn’t have to bear the whole world’s weight on her shoulders alone. It’s like she’s finally starting to believe it. Then she exhales a shaky breath and stands, pulling the blanket up to cover you more securely.

“Get some rest,” she says softly. “I’ll be here.”

“And you?” you ask, catching her hand before she can pull away. “Will you sleep?”

Her lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile. “Maybe.”

“Liar,” you tease gently.

She sighs, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ll try. For you.”

She stays by your side that night, her hand clasped in yours as you drift into a fitful but comforting sleep. Whatever the Road has taken from you, it has left this: a bond forged in fire, unshakeable and enduring.

[wintfleur]

Rutger asks Stella to go to the hockey formal with him even though they are together, but no one knows yet. She goes and all the hockey guys are confused because she said she couldn’t come but now she’s there

౨ৎ we’re just really good friends!

── ୨୧ 𝓹airing : Estella Hughes (oc) x Rutger McGroarty

˖ ་ details ( g; fluff, humor?, suggestive ; lots of kissing. wc; 5,858 )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I can’t believe this is the longest fic I’ve written for this au omggg, this honestly has taken me way to long to finish so i apologize to the sweet anon who sent this to me!! I hope you guys enjoy it mwah 💗 )

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

°. — asks about stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!

“At this rate you should just write the paper for me” Mark groaned as he dramatically dropped his face in the book he has been reading for the past hour, his hat comically falling off his head when the brim hits against the dark brown wood table. Stella looks up from her sketchbook and pauses the sketching she had for homework, rolling her eyes at her friend's dramatics before responding teasingly “How much are you gonna pay me?” 

“Wait really? ⸺ what's your price?” Mark rushed out his question after he quickly snapped his head up to look at the smiling girl. Stella was surprised she didn’t hear the sound of his neck snapping from his quick movement. Mark rolled his eyes and turned his head to give the guy who shushed him a few tables away a fake smile before looking back at Stella, his eyes begging her to write the paper for him. 

“I was joking, now keep reading and be quiet before you get us kicked out . . . again” Stella trailed off to a whisper as she looked back on the memory of her freshman year. Alongside her best friends Lily and Carmen where holding a study group, her brother Luke and their friends Mark, Dylan and Adam decided to join them. It ended with one grumpy librarian and a non-stop giggling mark and Dylan. 

“We both know that it was duker’s fault not mine” Mark grumpily muttered as he loudly flipped to another page. Stella giggled and softly bit the cap of her pen before pulling out a pad of sticky notes from her book bag and writing down a few words on the light pink paper. She swiftly pulled the sticky note off the top and smacked it on one of the pages of his notebook. Stella gives mark a smile once he looked up from the book “Make sure to incorporate those words, it'll make you look smarter” 

“Awe well look, aren't you two just the cutest little nerds ever” Someone cooed from behind them, both Stella and Mark turning their heads to see who it was even though they already knew from the voice. Walking towards the circle table they were sitting at, was a grinning Ethan. Luca and Rutger trailing behind him. Mark laughed sarcastically before muttering under his breath “Dick” 

Stella giggled and greeted the three boys with a smile and a small hello, her eyes lingering on one longer than the others. The couple locked eyes and Rutgers' smile turned into a grin at the sight of his girlfriend, she looked so adorable with one of her knees pulled up to her chest in the chair, clad in gray sweatpants, a few sizes too big brown sweater and her ugg slippers. Her hair in her braid pigtails, tied off with her signature ribbon bows. 

It had been a few days since the couple had seen each other, both of them being busy with practices and Stella with extra studying. Ethan takes the seat on Mark's other side that Stella wasn't sitting on and before rutger could claim the empty seat next to his girlfriend, luca was already plopping down in the seat. Luca playfully tugged on one of Stella's pigtails before reaching for the Tupperware of cut up strawberries and cherries Stella brought for her and mark. 

“Yeah sure, feel free to help yourself” Stella smiled sarcastically as she watched him open the Tupperware and shove a few berries in his mouth. Rutger took the seat between ethan and luca, now almost sitting directly in front of stella. Rutger reluctantly tore his eyes away from Stella who was laughing with Luca, not wanting to be caught staring at her like a lovesick fool he knew he was. Rutger turned his attention to Ethan when he started talking. “So, what are we all doing on Friday? Maybe we could all go see a movie?” 

“I can't, I have my suit fitting for the formal” Mark sighs as he closes his books and shoves them into his backpack, knowing that himself and Stella won't get any more studying done with the presence of the three yappers. Ethan raises his eyebrows in shock and lets out a shocked laugh at his friend's confession “There’s no way you waited until the day before the formal to do that” 

“Speaking of the formal, are you going stella?” Luca asked the girl who started packing up her sketchbook, multiple books and pens into her book bag. Stella looked up from her bag and thought for a moment, last year she had gone with Luke as his plus one and had a great time. By the time Luke had taken her back to her dorm, her sides hurt from all the laughs she had, her feet hurt from all the dancing, and her stomach hurt from all the cake she had eaten with Adam and Ethan. 

She absentmindedly formed a small frown the more she thought about how much fun she had that night with her brother. But Luke wasn't here anymore, there was no point for her to go. Stella continued to pack her things, and shrugged her shoulders “No, why would I be going?” 

All the boy's frown at her strange tone, they all could see that she missed her brother. Rutgers frown was deeper, he really wanted her to go. He remembered seeing her at last year's formal, they were already friends, but he was still so nervous to go up and talk to her, especially with how pretty she looked in that green dress. Ethan raises his eyebrow in shock “You haven't been asked?” 

“And who's going to ask me hmm? You guys and my brother scared off the rest of the hockey team from even looking at me for too long” Stella questioned Ethan as she rested her elbow on the wood table and her chin on the palm of her hand. Besides I would have said no anyway, she wanted to add as she glanced at rutger who was already staring at her. 

“It’s not going to be the same without you there” Luca frowned as he looked at Stella, he had a lot of fun with her at the last formal and he was really looking forward to her coming again. Stella gave them a cheeky smile and shrugged her shoulders playfully “You’ll survive” 

“Listen ma, i'll give you all i got, get me off of this” The sound of stella’s favorite the weekend song ‘wicked games’ filled the silence of stella’s dorm, accompanied with the sound of lips moving lewdly against each other, and the shuffling of clothes and sheets.  Stella pulled away from his addicting lips and quickly attached her lips to his neck, sucking and kissing just enough to where it wouldn't leave marks that would come with questions. 

“Fuckk stell” he groaned in pleasure as he tilted his head back against the soft pillows, giving her even more room to litter kisses and love bites across his neck and collar bone. He tried to focus on the feeling of her lips on his hot skin and the feeling of her body against his, but all his mind could do was replay the conversation they had at the library yesterday. 

He didn't know why it was affecting him so much, the fact that she wasn't going to be going to the formal ⸺ Okay maybe he did know why it was affecting him so much. He had to go, and he didn't want to go alone . . . he wanted to go with his girlfriend. His Girlfriend that no one knows about. Maybe the fact that their secret was holding them back from enjoying a night out with their friends is what was bothering him so much. 

“Wait wait wait” rutger panted out as he gripped her hips tighter, gently pulling away from her lips. Stella pulls away with a small look of confusion, resting her palm on the pillow next to his head, her brown locks cascading around them.

A pout comes across her swollen lips from all the kissing, when she sees the frown on his lips, the look in his eyes letting her know he was thinking hard about something “Hmm, everything okay?” 

“Were you serious about not wanting to go to the formal?” Rutger quickly blurted out as he sat back up on his elbows as he looked up at her. Stella sat up and rested her hands on his chest, her chest rising and falling fast as she tried to catch her breath, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the sudden question “What?” 

“The formal, do you really not want to go?” Rutger repeated his question with a frown, his hands falling to rest on her bare thighs, his thumbs absentmindedly fidgeting with the seam of her sleep shorts as he waited for her answer. The formal is a big deal, and he just really wanted to go with her, not with anyone else, not alone, but with her. 

“It's, it's not that i don't want to go, i just don't have anyone to go with and i can't exactly just go by my ⸺” 

“Go with me . . . please” Rutger cut off Stella's rant, his voice trailing off into a desperate whisper. His eyes were pleading for her to say yes. Stella froze for a moment, her shoulders sagging and the rubbing her thumbs were doing on his chest stopped as she took in his question. 

“Rut” stella whispered with a sigh as she moved to get off his lap, instead moving to sit by his side on the bed. Her hands fall in her lap as she tries to find the words and gather her thoughts. Going to the formal together was a lot . . . especially since they were very much a secret. She didn't want to disappoint him and say no, but she also wasn't ready for people to find out about them. 

Rutger could see the look on her face, she was getting lost in her thoughts, her nose doing that cute scrunch when she started to get overwhelmed. Rutger quickly sat up and moved closer to her, one of his hands moving some of her hair out of her face, while the other softly cupped her jaw to make her look at him as he whispered softly “I know we're not ready for everyone to find out about us, but we can go as just friends, no one will suspect a thing” 

Stella looked into her boyfriend's eyes and leaned against his hand that was softly holding her cheek, as she thought on his words. It wasn't a secret to anyone that Stella and rutger became closer, everyone just thought of them as good friends, so going to a formal together wouldn't be so bad right? Like he said, no one would suspect a thing, just them being good friends! 

Stella bit her lip anxiously before nodding faintly “Just as friends?” 

“Just as friends,” he promised with a smile and a reassuring nod. He would make sure to come up with some fake excuse for them going together, rutger couldn't get a date and he didn't want Stella to spend the night alone while all her friends were out having a great time . . . which is the truth, in a way. 

“You will have to keep your hands to yourself” Stella tried her best to sound stern as she poked his chest softly with her finger. Rutger chuckles and dramatically falls back on his back from the ‘strong’ poke. Stella giggles and rolls her eyes at her boyfriend's dramatics and moves to lay on her side, resting her head on her hand as she propped herself up on her elbow. 

She watched as his eyes widened and a smile came across his pretty lips as he let her words sink in. Rutger turned to lay on his side, mirroring her position. Rutger rested his free hand on her waist and pulled her closer as he asked, “Does that mean you will go?”

“I would love to be your date to the formal rut” stella smiled sweetly, her heart fluttering in happiness when he breaks out into a big grin. A small squeal of surprises leaves her lips when rutger quickly but carefully pulls her down against him and locks her lips in a hard kiss. A moan leaves her lips from the fierce kiss, her hands tangling in his hair while he holds onto her waist, with the new position she was now straddling one of his thighs. 

The kiss lasted for a few more moments, rutgers hands traveling her side while she softly tugged on the hair at his nape, a small grunt leaving his lips and stella took that as a chance to slowly pull away, rutger leaning up to connect their lips again but stella pulls away causing him to pout. Stella looks down at him with a serious look, worried that he wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself at the formal “I’m serious, you have to be on your best behavior” 

Rutger smiles cheekily and flexes his knee that she was straddling, a small gasp leaving her lips at the feeling, his hold on her hips tightening as he pushes her down against him, his eyes filled with mischief “When am I not?” 

“Are you sure I look okay?” Stella asked for the fifth time as she looked at herself in her long mirror, turning around and tilting her head to look at her back. She was biting her lip anxiously as she stared at herself, she was overthinking everything. Her hair, her dress, her makeup, in her eyes nothing looked right. 

“Babe, if rutger doesn't rip that dress off of you by the end of the night, I will” Lily flirted, looking up from the magazine she was reading to look at stella. The three best friends were in Stella's dorm, Lily and Carmen helping her get ready for the formal. Lily laid on her stomach on the bed while Carmen was looking through Stella's earrings to pick the perfect pair to match with the perfect dress she was wearing.

“You don't have to be so crude lils” Carmen scolds Lily with a small shake of her head as she looks down at the many different earrings Stella had laid out. She decided on a pretty pair of silver dangling earrings, she grabbed them and walked over to Stella, handing them to her with a smile so she could try them on. 

“Shhh Stella loves when i talk dirty, right?” Lily teases as she locks eyes with the said girl through the mirror, giving her a dramatic wink. Camren rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile at Lily's words and the way Stella looked as she put in the earrings, she looked beautiful. 

“Oh yeah it makes me all gooey inside” stella was quick to tease right back with a smile. The girls could hear the underline of nervousness in her voice as she looked at herself in the mirror, they could see it in her eyes that her mind was running a mile a minute. 

Carmen sighs, she hated seeing Stella so nervous and anxious, especially for something she should be excited about. She moved to stand behind her and softly rests her hand on the side of her arms before she rested her chin on stella’s shoulder, locking eyes with the nervous girl through the mirror as she spoke in a reassuring and sweet tone “You look beautiful Estella” 

“Isn't she lily?” Carmen asked as she tilted her head to look back at the blonde on the bed, Carmen's eyes telling her to help her calm Stella down. Stella turned around and faced lily so she could get a better look at her, her hands were anxiously smoothing down her dress at her sides. 

Lily started kicking her feet back and forth in the air before she let out a wolf whistle, closing the magazine she was reading and bringing it up to dramatically fan at herself as she looked stella up and down, slowly licking her lips as she purrs “Meow” 

Stella giggles at her best friends flirting, mumbling out a shy “shut up”. Lily laughs and gets off the bed, walking up to Stella who looked at her with anxious eyes. Lily gave her a reassuring smile and placed her hands on Stella's shoulder to turn around to face the mirror. 

Lily rests her chin on Stella's shoulder and squeezes her shoulders softly with a reassuring smile, while Carmen rests her chin on Stella's other shoulder. Lily speaks in a gentle and reassuring tone as she locks eyes with stella through the mirror “Tonight is going to be amazing stella, you and rutger are gonna have a blast. you have nothing to worry about” 

Carmen hums in agreement and brings her hand up to fix a few strands of Stella's hair, smiling at her side profile. Lily smirks as she continues to speak “besides all the boys are too stupid to realize something is going on between you and rutger”

Carmen and Stella break out into a fit of giggles at Lily's words, she wasn't exactly wrong. Lily smiled triumphantly when she felt Stella's tense shoulders relax as she calmed down from her nerves. The three girls' heads turn towards the door at the sound of a rhythmic knock. Carmen giggles happily as she says sweetly “Your prince charming is here” 

Stella lets out a heavy breath and turns around to give her best friends a grateful smile “thank you for helping me get ready . . . and helping me calm down” she trailed off into a mumble with a sheepish smile. 

Carmen grabbed Stella's phone and her small purse while Lily pulled her towards the door with a smile “It's no problem sweets, now you have a great time okay, have lots of fun and dance until your feet fall off!” 

Carmen hands Stella her purse and gives her a reassuring smile before giving her a look of worry as if she was Stella's mother “But not too much fun, okay? Be safe and call us if you need anything” Lily playfully rolled her eyes at carmen's words mumbling under her breath ‘okay mom’ 

Stella surged forward and closed her eyes as she gave her best friends a quick hug, she pulled away and gave them a small wave before turning around and opening the door to her door. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of her boyfriend dressed so handsomely in a blue suit, a bouquet of tulips in his hand. 

Rutger looked up from his feet as he heard the door open, his jaw falling in awe as he took in the sight of stella. The dress she was wearing fit her perfectly, was it purple, blue, violet? He didn't know. But what he did know is that it's going to take everything in him to keep his hands to himself tonight. He let out a heavy breath as he looked at her in awe “Wow you look so, so fucking beautiful” 

“And you look handsome as ever” Stella gave him a flirtatious smile as she stepped towards him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer. The nerves she had felt were slowly disappearing the longer she was in her boyfriend's presence. Rutger smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist, carefully holding the flowers behind her back as he leaned down for a soft kiss. 

“How am I going to be able to keep my hands to myself tonight?” stella whispered once she pulled away from the kiss, a lovesick smile on both of their lips. Rutger was grateful that she couldn't feel his fast heartbeat through his suit. Rutger chuckled and placed a few kisses on her cheek before whispering seductively in her ear “I was just thinking the same thing” 

Stella giggled and softly pushed him away from her when she felt one of his hands slide down her back, getting awfully close to her ass. She gave him a warning look before taking the flowers he held out for her as he laughed. She brought the pretty tulips up to her nose, smelling them with a smile. She looked back at rut who was looking at her so fondly, she whispered “You’re perfect rut” 

“Nah, that role is already taken by you” Rutger flirted making stella giggle and playfully roll her eyes, she pulled away from him and handed her flowers to a smiling carman who had a smirking lily behind her. “Please keep lily’s plant killing paws off of these” 

“I will, have fun you two” Carmen gave them both a sweet smile as she took the flowers while lily playfully rolled her eyes and made her way back to Stella's bed. The couple said one more goodbye before they made their way out of the dorms and towards Rutgers truck. Holding hands the whole drive, knowing that they would have to pretend to be just friends once they leave the truck. 

 

“Is that stella? . . . with rutger?” Dylan asked his younger brother in slight confusion and shock, not expecting to see them here, together. Dylan had reached out to her the other day to see if she was coming and she had told him no. Dylan looked to his brother tyler who was much closer to stella then he was, tyler just shrugs and takes a sip of his drink before answering “i mean they have gotten closer, they probably just came as friends” 

Dylan nods and lets out a small hum, not thinking anymore of it. But he was definitely not the only one who was confused about the pair. Ethan and Mark who were standing next to the drink table, their eyes widened in slight shock as they noticed them walk in together. While Luca who was standing next to them was trying to hide his smirk by taking a sip of his drink. 

“Ready to dance the night away pal?” Rutger leaned down to whisper in her ear, a teasing smile gracing his lips when he said ‘pal’. Stella rolled her eyes playfully and gently hit him in his side with her elbow as they walked further into the large room. “you're forgetting the part where we eat a ton of cake too buddy” 

“Oh, how dare i?”  rut chuckled dramatically as he placed a hand over his heart after he winced dramatically when she nudged him in the ribs. Rutger had to stop himself from leaning down to kiss her when she looked at him with that sweet smile of hers. Rutger cleared his throat and blinked a few times, leading her towards the dance floor as he spoke “Come on we should get started before we get questioned to death” 

“So do I need to be worried – give him my big brother speech?” Mark questioned the youngest Hughes as they refilled their glasses. Stella giggled and placed the ladle back in the punch bowl, turning her body to the side to face mark as he got another soda “He invited me as friends mark, no big brother speech is needed” 

Ethan looked at her with slight suspicion in his eyes, not believing her words. He’s had suspicions that somethings been going on between the two of them for a long time, it was obvious to Ethan that rutger had a crush on her. Ethan glanced behind him and towards one of the tables he saw rutger last and Ethan had to hide his smirk in his cup when he caught rutger staring at stella. 

“Damn i'm a little disappointed, i was thinking of a really good speech too, intimidating and everything” mark pouted dramatically as he led the other too over to their table, pulling stella’s chair out for her before sitting down. Stella set her glass on the table as she sat down, pushing her hair back off her shoulders and giving mark a small smirk “please, you're as intimidating as a fly” 

“Your deflecting” Ethan narrowed his eyes at her, sitting down next to mark. Stella looked away from mark and to ethan, holding her glass tighter as she gave him a teasing smile “And you both have been drinking too much of that spiked punch” 

“Seriously, me and rut came here just as friends” stella gave them both a smile. She technically wasn't lying; they only came as friends – well they came pretending to be just friends. She tried to justify her lie internally but nothing could make her feel better for lying. 

“Anyways, what about you mark? No lily?” stella was quick to change the topic, giving Mark a small smile. Ethan stifled his laugh by taking a sip of his drink, already knowing what happened from when mark ranted to him. Mark frowned and answered with a sad sigh “She threatened to kill me if i asked, apparently tonight is survivor sooo” 

Stella is stunned for a moment at Mark's response, biting her lip to hold in the giggle she wanted to let out as she thought of lily. Stella didn't even know where to begin on her thoughts of Mark and lily. Stella cleared her throat and gave a pouting mark a smile “she uh, she really loves survivor” 

“Yeah, it's a good show…” Ethan nodded, also trying to hold in his laughter, but as soon as he looked up from his glass and made eye contact with Stella, they both broke out into a fit of giggles. Mark rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest as he looks between them with an offended look “why are you brushing over the fact that she's said she'd kill me?” 

“I'm pretty sure that's her dirty talk” Stella said between her giggles, Mark rolled his eyes and nudged Ethan hard in the ribs when he started to laugh louder at his expense. Rutger, who just finished talking to a few friends of his coach, walked up to the table, only hearing the last bit of their conversation. Rutger stood behind Stella's chair, resting his hands on the chair, his fingers brushing against her skin and leaving goosebumps “Dirty talk? what are you freaks talking about?” 

“You don't wanna know b-” Stella had to bite her lip before she accidentally called him baby at the end. Thankfully ethan and mark didn't notice her almost slip up, but rutger did. Rutger smiled and secretly dipped his finger under the strap of her dress, caressing the skin. Stella blushed at the feeling of his touch and tilted her head to the side when she felt him bend down a little, rutger smiled, his eyes raking over her face before asking “wanna dance?” 

“I thought you would never ask” stella teased as she placed her hand in his that he held out to help her stand up from the chair. She squeezed his hand as she got up, following after him. Mark grabbed her glass and brought it close to him when she left. 

“Am I drunk or are they in love?” Mark asked as he tilted his head, watching as rutger rested his hand on Stella's lower back and led her towards the packed dance floor. Ethan bounced his leg, his eyes not leaving the two, watching as Rutger spinned her around before pulling her close. Ethan answered mark with a knowing tone “you're definitely something” 

“I'm really happy that you asked me to come, I've had a great time,” Stella said softly as she closed her eyes. The couple were somewhere on the dancefloor, swaying slowly to the slow song that was playing. Rutger had his hands on her hips while she had her arms around his shoulders, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Me too pretty girl” he whispered in her ear with a smile, softly caressing her hips. They weren't exactly out of view from their friends, but just enough that they couldn't see the small touches. Stella smiled and she absentmindedly played with the hair at his nape as they slowly swayed to the song, she could feel his heartbeat through his suit, and she swore to herself that she's never felt that much peace and comfort before. 

Stella opened her eyes and tilted her to look up at rutger, a smile immediately forming on their lips as they locked eyes. Stella dipped her fingers under the collar of his suit, batting her eyelashes as she whispered, “want to help me find the bathroom?” 

Rutger smirked and shook his head softly, seeing right through her innocent question and smile. Rutger looked around them quickly before gripping her hips harder and pulling her closer, giving stella his own fake innocent smile “i know the perfect way” 

“I'll follow you” Stella flirted, holding back the urge to hold his hand as he led them away from the dance floor and out of the function room. But once they were alone, Rutger was quick to lock their fingers and pull her into his side, missing the feeling of her against him. Stella giggled at how eagerly Rutger pulled her into the storage closet. 

“rut if we get caught” stella trailed off in a whisper as she looked up at her boyfriend, her tone had worry in it but her eyes were filled with mischief. Rutger softly pressed her against the door, his knee between her thighs. “don't worry pretty” rutger whispered back before he turned his head to look around the small dimly lit storage room as he continued with a smile “I don't think they are gonna need Christmas decorations any time soon” 

Stella giggled at his sassiness and softly cupped his jaw to make him look back at her, attaching their lips in a feverish kiss before he could say anything else. A small grunt of surprise leaves his lips, but it was swallowed up as the kiss got more heated. Stella’s head was gently pressed against the door, his hands traveling up and down her sides while her hands got lost under his blazer. 

The kiss they shared was filled with passion and their touches were eager, as if they had been starved of each other for weeks but it truly has only been a couple hours. Keeping their hands to themselves was a lot harder than they thought it would be, the two of them almost slipping up in front of their friends many times throughout the night. 

Rutger tilted his head, leaving a trail of wet kisses down her jaw and neck and once he found that sweet spot on her neck, soft whimpers and gasps left Stella's parted lips. Rutger hummed in appreciation at the pretty sounds leaving his girl's lips. He moved his right hand up to slowly pull down the thin strap of her dress, kissing down her shoulder. Stella giggled at the ticklish feeling of her boyfriend's soft lips and touch. He smiled and whispered against her skin “feel good?” 

“You know it does” stella pouted as he continued to tease her with his soft kisses, only making her needier for more. The dimly lit storage room was starting to feel stuffy, and every second that passed made her want them to sneak away to her dorm room. She was pulled away from her thoughts at the feeling of her boyfriend softly nipping at her neck, making her his in surprise “Rut!” 

Rutger chuckled and before he could say some sassy remark Stella's phone that was in his blazer pocket started buzzing - someone was calling her. They both wanted to ignore it, but Stella knew she couldn't, what if it was important? Rutger sighed when he felt her slip her hands into his blazer to pull her phone out of his inner pocket. Her eyes widening slightly when she saw that it was Luke who was calling her, rutger dramatically wincing when he saw as well, making her roll her eyes and playfully slap his chest before she answered. 

“Hello?” stella answered as she held her phone up, putting it on speaker and turning down the volume so Rutger could hear. They can hear the sound of someone moving around before they hear Luke’s voice “uh heyyy sis, what are you up too?” 

Stella looks away from her phone and to Rutger, both of them giving each other a ‘really’ look. They could tell just by his tone that he was up to something, that he didn't just call her to ask what she's doing. Stella rolled her eyes as she finally realized the point of him calling. “Who told you?” 

They heard luke let out a sigh of being caught and they could picture him roll his eyes before he answered quickly “that's not important, what's important is that you –” 

“Luke, rutger invited me because he knew how much fun i had at the one last year and he didn't want me to be alone” stella was quick to cut off her older brother, knowing that he was about to go on a rant, and it was just better overall if she just spit it out. Well spit out the half-truth that is. A bitter taste was in her mouth for lying to her brother, a small frown on her lips. Rutger noticed her disdain and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, squeezing her hips reassuringly. 

“Okay…hmm that's oddly very sweet of him” luke muttered and Rutger playfully rolled his eyes in offense at his close friend's words. Luke let out another heavy sigh before saying “well i guess I'll let you get back to it, uh have fun– but not too much” 

“Okay i will, love you” stella hummed with a smile and luke was quick to reply before hanging up “Love ya too” 

“Hmm there is a rat amongst us” rutger hummed as he slipped her phone back into his pocket, there were a few moments of silence between them. “It was Dylan” they said in unison, before breaking out into a fit of quiet giggles, they were both on the same wavelength. Stella sighed before she leaned forward to place a quick and soft kiss to rut’s lips, but as she started to pull away rutger gently held her face in his hand and pulled her back. 

The gentle hold he had on her face was completely different from the passionate way his lips moved against hers. It was as if he was sucking the breath out of her, purposely distracting her mind from the lie she had to tell her brother. their lips and tongues moved in tandem, their hands exploring each other's bodies. 

stella moaned as rutger bit her lip as she slowly pulled away from the kiss, he chuckled at the dazed look on her face and whispered breathlessly with a mischievous look in his eyes “Come on, let's get out of here before people start suspecting things” 

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( AHHH I LOVE THEM !! when I tell you this has been in my drafts since like the beginning of the au 🫢 I am embarrassed to admit that, but I genuinely feel so good about finally finishing this — please tell me what you guys thought — feedback is what makes me want to continue to write !! )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 @bunbunbl0gs @petite-potato4 @winterbarnesblog @lesrflms @iceflwers @dancerbailey3

[marysfics]

Through the Dust

Alexia Putellas x DownhillRacer!Reader

Status: Ongoing

Other Chapters: click here

This is a multichapter fic, and trust me, you’re in for one wild ride. Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Grief, Kisses.

Word count: 1.8k

Chapter 6: ''The Brink of Something Real''

A few weeks had passed since the mountain cabin, and things had settled into an almost comfortable rhythm. You and Alexia had stayed in touch, messages and calls filling the spaces in between your busy schedules. She was back in Spain now, her pre-season training ramping up with the team, but even then, you could feel the connection between you two still lingering, soft and unspoken. You weren’t rushing into anything, not yet. You both needed time to figure out what it all meant—whatever "it" was—but there was a comfort in knowing that she was there. That you were talking.

You couldn’t say no when they asked you. It was an opportunity you’d dreamed of—an event that had long been seen as a men’s-only challenge. But now? It felt like everything had changed. And while the course scared you more than you cared to admit, it also pushed you to the edge in a way nothing else had. This was your chance. But, as always, the nervous buzz of competition made it hard to keep your mind focused on anything else.

Before the race, Alexia had called you. She’d been insistent, her voice a mix of teasing and something softer underneath.

"I’m watching, you know," she’d said, almost defiantly, like she was challenging herself to be there. "I’m dragging my mother and sister in front of the TV to watch you."

You had to laugh, picturing her usual unflappable self being so... invested. "Are they even into downhill racing?" you asked, a teasing smile on your lips.

Alexia’s chuckle filled your ears. "My sister is asking more questions than I can answer, and my mom keeps raising an eyebrow at me. She doesn’t get it, but... I think she knows it’s important. She sees me getting all nervous."

You felt a soft heat in your chest at the thought of Alexia’s family watching you. Nervous? You smiled, pushing aside the flutter of excitement and anxiety that came with it. "Tell them to keep their eyes peeled. I’ll show them how it’s done."

A little later in Alexia's apartment, Alexia was sitting with her arms crossed, her legs bouncing restlessly. She kept glancing at her phone, waiting for the race to begin. It was strange for Eli and Alba, having Alexia—who had never shown much interest in extreme sports—suddenly insisting that they watch a dangerous downhill cycling race. Eli had her reservations, but when Alexia had insisted so strongly, she knew something was going on.

"Why are we watching this again?" Alba asked, eyeing the screen with confusion as she adjusted the pillows on the couch. "Since when do you watch things like this, Ale?"

Alexia didn’t answer immediately, focusing instead on the screen where the pre-race interviews were playing. She had a nervous energy about her that Eli couldn’t ignore, the way her daughter’s foot tapped restlessly against the floor. It was clear to Eli that this race was more than just a race for Alexia.

Her eyes narrowed, a knowing look passing between her and Alba. “You’re nervous,” Eli said softly, watching her daughter closely. “Why? What’s going on?”

Alexia froze for a moment, her lips pressing together as she looked at her mom, but then her gaze drifted back to the screen. “I’m not nervous. I just… want her to be safe. It’s her last race of the season, Mom.”

Alba leaned in with interest, still oblivious. “Safe? Who are you talking about, Ale? You barely even know the riders."

Eli raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? You never watch anything like this, Ale. But now you’re glued to it?” She paused, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “It’s about more than just the race, isn’t it?”

Alexia’s face flushed slightly, and she avoided her mother’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quickly, but the slight blush creeping up her neck told Eli everything she needed to know.

Alba looked back and forth between them, her curiosity piqued. “What do you mean? What’s going on, Ale?”

Eli watched Alexia, sensing the moment of truth. Finally, she broke her silence, her voice soft but teasing. “Ale, are you seeing someone from this race?”

Alexia’s face turned bright red. “Maybe,” she mumbled, but it was enough to send Alba into a state of shock.

“Oh my God,” Alba gasped, her eyes wide. “Are you dating someone from the race? What is this? You’ve never been like this before!”

Alexia let out a small groan, her face still flushed. “It’s not like that, okay? She’s planning to visit soon. After this, she’s got the off-season. She’ll come here, and… we’ll see how it goes.” Her words were rushed, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, but there was something undeniably soft in the way she said it.

Eli smiled warmly at her daughter, sensing the subtle shift in Alexia’s energy as she spoke about you. "Well, it sounds like you’re really fond of her," Eli said, her voice gentle but knowing. "It’s nice to see you like this, Ale. I haven't seen you this excited about someone in a long time."

Alexia’s face flushed again, a little more this time, and she glanced at the TV where you were making your way toward the finish line. "It’s just... different, Mom. She’s different. I just... feel good when I talk to her." Her voice trailed off slightly, as if unsure of how to explain what she was feeling, but the sincerity in her words was clear. "And she’s been through a lot, too. I respect that."

Alba tilted her head, still processing the information. “Wait a second. Are you telling me you’re seeing a woman, Ale?” The question was blunt, but there was no judgment in it, just the curiosity of a younger sister trying to make sense of something new.

Alexia opened her mouth to respond but hesitated. There was something about this moment, a quiet realization that maybe she didn’t need to hide it anymore. She looked over at her mother, then back at Alba. "Yeah," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I think I am."

Eli let out a soft sigh, her smile widening as she nudged Alba playfully. "You’re looking at her like she’s grown a second head. Relax, Alba. Your sister’s allowed to have a life outside of football."

Alba blinked, clearly still processing, but she finally shrugged. "Okay, fine. But you have to promise me something, Ale."

Alexia raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You better introduce us to her when she comes to visit," Alba said with a grin. "I want to know everything. You can’t just drop this bomb on me and leave me hanging!"

Alexia laughed, the tension in her body easing. "I promise," she said, her voice softening. "You’ll meet her soon. And you can ask all the questions you want, okay?"

Alba gave a satisfied nod. “Good. But seriously, Ale, I’m kind of in shock right now. My big sister is dating someone from downhill cycling? What even is that sport? How did you end up with someone so... different?"

Alexia let out a small laugh, trying to shake off the teasing but feeling a little flustered. "It’s just a sport, Alba," she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. "It's actually pretty intense. You'd be surprised."

Alba raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. "Intense? You mean, like, you just race down a mountain on a bike at insane speeds and call that 'intense'?" She let out a dramatic sigh. "Sounds like something out of a movie. Are you sure you're not falling for someone who’s just trying to get themselves killed?"

Eli shot a look at Alba, a quiet warning in her gaze, but Alexia couldn’t help but laugh again. "I wouldn’t put it that way, but… yeah, it’s a bit crazy. But there’s more to it than just the danger. It’s about skill, control, knowing yourself, your limits. It’s a lot like football, in a way," Alexia explained, though she wasn't sure if her sister really understood.

Alba crossed her arms, still skeptical but clearly intrigued. "I guess. But what’s she like, Ale? Like, really like? You’ve got me curious now."

Alexia hesitated for a moment, her thoughts wandering back to you. She was still processing everything that had happened since they'd met—how you’d slipped under her guard so easily, how your laugh made her stomach flip. "She’s different," Alexia said finally, her voice softer now. "I can’t even really explain it. She’s real. And there’s something about her that’s… refreshing."

Alba looked at her older sister, clearly seeing how this conversation was affecting her. "Uh huh," she said, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "I bet she’s got you all twisted up in knots."

Alexia rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. "Maybe."

Meanwhile, as the race continued on the screen, Alexia’s attention was mostly on you. You were approaching the final stretch, and every twist, every jump, every corner, had her on the edge of her seat. Her heart pounded harder as you got closer to the finish line.

She glanced over at her mother and Alba, who were sitting on either side of her, both of them oblivious to the quiet storm of nerves swirling inside her. Alba had a knowing look on her face, but she didn’t say anything more. Instead, she turned her focus back to the race, watching the way you maneuvered through the last few hurdles of the course.

Suddenly, Alba leaned forward, eyes widening. "Wait a minute… that’s her, isn’t it?" she asked, pointing at the screen.

Alexia’s breath caught in her throat as she watched you in action. It was one thing to hear about the race, another to see you in your element, your confidence and determination shining through every turn.

The way you held your line, how you pushed through the hardest parts without hesitation, made something in Alexia’s chest tighten. She could almost hear your voice in her head, that same soft but firm tone you had when you said you’d be okay. But now, watching you race, she realized just how much she cared, how much she hoped you would cross that finish line without injury, without trouble.

As you made the final push and crossed the finish line with the fastest time, Alexia let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. It was more than just relief—it was pride. You’d done it. And something deep inside her shifted.

Alba, still watching intently, leaned back with a grin. "Well, looks like Ale’s in love," she said, her voice teasing but light.

Alexia, still holding her breath from the race, turned to her sister. "What?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

Alba’s eyes gleamed. "Come on, Ale. I’m not blind. You’ve got that lovesick look in your eyes. I can tell. That’s her, isn’t it?"

Alexia's face went bright red, and she turned away quickly, her heart hammering in her chest. "I’m not... I don’t know," she mumbled, her words tripping over themselves.

But Alba was persistent. "You definitely know. Don’t even try to deny it." She glanced at their mom, who was watching with amusement.

"Mom, tell her. She’s totally into her."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

End of chapter 6.

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

Girl, your stories are so GOOD! I love reading your fics. I just saw you may be taking fics for Jayce or Viktor. Is there any way I could request a Jayce x Viktor x Reader fic where the reader is very naturing, cuddly, and gentle with both of them, but maybe she hides all her stress and struggles cause she deems theirs more important? Like, she always knows when they want coffee, how they each take it, covers them up when the lab is cold or they pass out at the desk, rubs their shoulders when she sees them shrug too much, just very attentive. Yet, she’s not a scientist and thinks that being stressed over literature projects and teaching is ridiculous cause it’s not as difficult or as important (in her mind) as hextech. So she just ignores her needs until these two notice.

I’m so sorry if that is too much! I hope you enjoy the third act when it comes out. Thank you so much for reading this! 🩶

OH ABSOLUTELY I CAN DO THIS. 😭😭 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND LIKING MY STORIES IT MEANS SO MUCH.

--fem reader. Fluff. Small sad. Angst if you squint. Cute throuple time.

--

The laboratory is cold, and the rain that batters piltover decorates the window like glass tears. Your eyes droop tiredly as you watched viktor twist the cogs in the next hextech project and listen to the sound of slow puffs of steam every few minutes that came from brass pipes on the walls.

Jayce is unmoving as he sits at his own desk, sorting through two stacks of papers. You hate it, hate watching them so vulnerable and so tired. Both are so hard-working and loyal to their studies.

"Allow me to help you both," you spoke as you stood up.

Reaching for two soft blue blankets stored in the corner, you walked firstly to jayce and draped the blanket across his shoulders and gave his cheek a soft kiss.

"I can't have my boys going cold now, can I?"

You spoke as you walked to viktor to drape a blanket across his much more lean shoulders, kissing his cheek, too. Viktor looked up at you and smiled tiredly.

"Thank you, my love." it never failed to make your heart flutter hearing viktor call you that, especially when his accent made it so smooth and endearing.

"Are you staying with us tonight?" Jayce spun in his chair, leaning an arm on his knee.

"I um" you cleared your throat.

The truth was, you had things to do. Your own assignments and activities to tend to. But viktor and jayce's eyes were gleaming deep brown in the dim laboratory light and so often you found yourself missing them when they would make you go to bed without them because they were afraid you would pass out after spending so long with them doing work.

"I have no where to be"

Paperwork

Documents

Assignments

Blueprints

Papers

Papers papers pap-

"No," you shook your head. "I have nowhere to be"

You smiled as you walked over to stand by the window, viktor and jayce came to stand on either side of you. The rain still pounded the glass, crystal city and enforcers were hounded the soaking streets each night, like a herd of elephants stampeding with metal boots.

"You need not worry about what's happening down there." Jayce put his hand on your shoulder.

Viktor turned his head to you. "It is not our worry, my love" he spoke ever so softly.

You pressed your lips together into a thin line, as you thought over so much.

"You both must be hungry," you stated.

You stepped away from them both before you walked over to the door. You would make them cups of hot tea and nice warm soup. bread and butter.

"Stop right there, doll" Jayce spoke loudly.

You froze and turned around to see jayce holding up your textbook. You gasped and realised they had indeed caught you.

"When were you going to tell us you had assignments to do?" Jayce asked.

Viktor turned around to face you, his head tilted. You looked at the ground defeated before them, and began to cry.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you both. I was so entranced with helping you with your dreams that I forgot about my own, " you frowned and sighed.

The two of them walked over to you and hugged you tightly. If they had known you were in such troubles, they would have chained you to the table and glued a pencil in your hand.

"I love you both so much, and I'm so sorry that kept it from you." .You looked at them with gentle and sorrowful eyes.

"You need not be sorry. But It's time to start taking care of yourself, my love. " viktor held you close to him

You nodded, making them both smile admiringly.

"We love you, pretty girl"

You gave them both soft kisses to their lips and smiled. "You know I'm still going to take care of you both"

They were your boys. And even if you were working every day and night on your own papers, you would find ways to still make sure they had their breakfast lunch and dinner and were always hydrated and healthy. You loved them both dearly and they too loved you too.

"If I find out you aren't focusing on yourself, I'll take back my promise to buy cupcakes" Viktor spoke.

Not only did you gasp. But beside you, the man of progress did too.

[diamonddaze01]

love you the mostest

pairing: ljh x reader genre: fluffy fluffy fluffy | wc: 2.2k warnings: none | rating: pg a/n: my love letter to lee jihoon - happy birthday <3 // also big thanks to @chanranghaeys for convincing me to write this all as one big fic i love u muah

summary: happy birthday, jihoon.

The room was still dark, save for the faintest sliver of light peeking through the edges of the curtains, hinting at the dawn breaking outside. The soft hum of the early morning and the rhythmic rise and fall of Jihoon’s breath were the only sounds, a quiet lullaby of intimacy.

You had woken up long before your alarm, the quiet stirrings of the city pulling you from sleep. Jihoon’s schedule was packed today, like it always was, and you wanted to steal this moment—when the world was still asleep and his mind hadn't yet been claimed by the chaos. He was so calm in the mornings, his body relaxed and at peace, the stillness of sleep wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

You shifted slightly under the covers, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, inviting you to stay close. His hand found yours, fingers threading together almost instinctively, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. His exhale tickled your skin as he pulled you in, his face burrowing into the crook of your neck. The familiar weight of him settled against you, grounding you in the moment.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering there for just a beat longer than usual. Pulling back, you brushed a strand of hair away from his face, his eyes barely open, still clouded with sleep. He blinked up at you, his hand tightening around yours as though to ensure you were real, his lips curving into a soft smile.

"Mm... so early," he mumbled, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep, his breath warm against your skin.

"Sorry, Hoonie," you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. "I couldn’t wait to tell you."

He stirred just a little, his arms pulling you closer, his lips grazing your jawline, a barely audible sound escaping his lips. "Tell me what?"

You grinned at how endearing he looked, his sleepy smile making your heart flutter. "Happy birthday," you whispered, your words soft but full of warmth, just for him, in the quiet stillness of the room.

His eyes fluttered open fully now, the remnants of sleep still clinging to him, and for a moment, it seemed like he didn’t quite understand. Then, a soft, surprised smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his voice, still rough from sleep, was filled with warmth. "It’s too early for that, you know?"

You laughed softly, your fingers threading through his messy hair. "I know. But I wanted to be the first to wish you."

His arms tightened around you, pulling you in closer, his lips brushing against your neck once more as he sighed. "You’re always the first," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "And the best part of my day, too."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel the sincerity in his words, even through the haze of sleep. The morning light, gentle now, cast a soft glow on his face, making him look even more angelic than usual.

"I’m glad," you murmured, your voice full of affection as you tightened your embrace. "You deserve everything, Jihoon. I hope this year brings you all the happiness you deserve."

He sighed contentedly, his eyes slipping shut, the exhaustion of his day lingering in the way he held you close. But then, his lips brushed your cheek, a soft kiss that lingered just long enough to make your heart beat a little faster. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—just gentle, an invitation to stay in this moment with him.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into the kiss, closing your eyes as his lips hovered near your skin, warm and tender. A moment passed, and his mouth brushed the corner of your lips, so faint it almost felt like a dream. The kiss was lazy and slow, drawn out, as though he was savoring the sensation of being close to you.

His hand found its way to your arm, his fingers tracing up your skin with a light touch, sending a shiver down your spine. He tugged you in closer, his body pressing against yours, and the weight of him was both heavy and comforting. The space between you disappeared, leaving only the soft press of his lips and the gentle rhythm of your breath.

"Too far away," he murmured, his voice low and still thick with sleep, as if waking to the reality of the moment. His lips found yours again, this time with more intention, the kiss deepening as if he couldn’t quite pull away. It was slow, not desperate, but full of the kind of closeness that only two people who had shared so many quiet mornings could understand.

You melted into him, your heart fluttering with the familiarity of it all. His lips moved against yours in a rhythm only the two of you knew, a rhythm that spoke of years of being in sync with each other, of a bond forged in the most ordinary yet profound moments.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, both of you breathing softly, trying to slow the quickening beat of your hearts. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and you brushed your fingers through his hair, your heart full with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"You need to get some rest, Hoonie," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "You’ve got a long day ahead."

He groaned, a playful pout forming on his lips. "Just a little longer..."

You shook your head gently, kissing his forehead, lingering there for a moment before you tucked yourself closer to him. "No, you’ve got schedules today. You need to sleep."

Jihoon’s arms tightened around you for a second, and he sighed, his face nuzzling into your neck once more. "Fine," he muttered, though you could hear the smile in his voice. "But just a few more minutes."

You grinned, letting yourself relax into him, the warmth of his body and the steady sound of his breathing lulling you both back into the quiet comfort of the morning. The world outside could wait just a little longer.

It’s nearly 2 AM when Jihoon comes home, the faint jingle of his keys breaking the stillness of the apartment. The door creaks open, and the soft shuffle of his sneakers against the hardwood announces his presence. He stands in the entryway, shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. His eyes are heavy, his body aching from the endless hours spent in the studio.

But then he notices it—the living room.

The space is bathed in a soft, golden glow from the streetlights filtering through the curtains. Balloons in every color scatter across the floor like a rainbow had exploded inside. In the center of the coffee table, a small cake sits proudly, its frosting delicately swirled and an unlit candle standing tall in the middle. The sight alone eases the tight coil of tension in his chest, but it’s the figure on the couch that truly stops him.

It’s you.

You’re curled up, cheek pressed to a throw pillow, legs tucked underneath you. The faint rise and fall of your chest in sleep makes his heart twist. You look so peaceful, your hair slightly mussed and your face soft with dreams. Jihoon stands there for a moment, drinking you in, before a quiet laugh escapes him. How is it that even now, you manage to make him feel like the luckiest person alive?

“Baby?” he calls softly, his voice low and careful, barely above a whisper.

You stir at the sound, a groan escaping your lips as your eyes flutter open. Blinking blearily, you meet his gaze, your expression drowsy but warm.

“Jihoon?” you murmur, your voice laced with sleep.

He steps closer, the corners of his lips tugging upward. “Yeah, love,” he says, moving to the couch and gently lifting your legs to settle them on his lap. His hands are warm and careful as they touch you, and you sigh at the familiarity. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as if to reassure himself that you’re really here. “What’s all this?”

“Birthday surprise,” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep as you rub your eyes.

Jihoon chuckles, a low sound that rumbles deep in his chest. “It’s 2 AM. My birthday’s over, love.”

That wakes you a little more. You sit up abruptly, your mock-serious expression drawing a playful scoff from him. “I’d celebrate with you any day, any time, forever, love of my life,” you declare dramatically, throwing a hand over your heart.

He rolls his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze betrays him. “Alright then, troublemaker,” he teases, “let’s celebrate.”

Sliding off the couch, Jihoon pulls you with him, settling himself on the floor in front of the coffee table. He tugs at your hands until you’re seated sideways in his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist like they were made to anchor you there.

His gaze flickers to the candle. “Well?” he prompts, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Aren’t you going to light it?”

You reach for the lighter, flicking it until a tiny flame dances atop the wick. The room glows warmly, the light catching on Jihoon’s features—his sharp jawline, the soft curve of his lips, and the faint tiredness that lingers in his eyes. Your breath hitches. He’s always been beautiful, but in this moment, with his gaze fixed only on you, he’s breathtaking.

You hum a quiet, off-key rendition of Happy Birthday, and Jihoon sways you gently as you sing, his hands rubbing slow circles into your back. When you finish, he leans forward to blow out the candle, the flame flickering briefly before disappearing.

“Make a wish?” you ask softly.

His lips curve into a faint smile. “Don’t need to,” he murmurs, his voice like a secret meant only for you. “I already have everything I want.”

The words make your heart stutter. He leans back against the couch, and you press a kiss to his cheek, then another to his jawline, your lips brushing against his skin as softly as the light in the room.

Jihoon reaches for the cake with his fingers, tearing off a small piece and holding it out to you. “Forgot the plates, huh?” he teases, his lips twitching with amusement.

You laugh, taking the offered bite. The frosting melts on your tongue, sugary and sweet, but nothing compares to the warmth that blooms in your chest at the sound of his laughter.

“You know,” he muses, brushing a thumb over the corner of your lips to catch a stray crumb, “in Brazil, people give the first slice of their birthday cake to the person they love most.”

The simple, tender confession undoes you. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. It’s soft and deep, and he sighs against your lips, his hands tightening around your waist. He tastes like frosting and everything good in the world, and you think you could drown in him forever.

“Happy birthday, Jihoon,” you whisper when you finally pull back, your foreheads resting together. “I love you the most, too.”

His lips brush against your temple as he replies, “Thank you, my love.”

The two of you sit there for a while in comfortable silence, the hum of the city outside a faint backdrop to Jihoon’s voice as he softly hums a melody into your hair.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, love?” he answers, his tone low and warm.

“It’s not your birthday anymore.”

A faint smirk curves his lips. “Well done, troublemaker. Very astute observation.”

A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you dip your finger into the frosting. “So that means I can do this!”

Before he can react, you swipe your frosting-covered hand across his cheek, leaving a trail of sprinkles and sugary chaos behind.

For a moment, he just stares at you, mouth agape in mock horror. Then his eyes narrow, and a grin overtakes his features.

“Why, you little—”

You’re on your feet in an instant, laughter spilling from your lips as you dart toward the bedroom. Jihoon’s laughter rings out as he chases you, catching you with ease and tackling you onto the bed.

“Got you now,” he declares, pinning your wrists to the mattress, his fingers digging mercilessly into your sides as you shriek with laughter.

“Jihoon, stop!” you gasp between giggles. “The sheets—they’re new!”

He pauses, his expression mock-serious. “Fine,” he relents, releasing your wrists. “Only because the sheets are white.”

“And because you love me?” you tease, still catching your breath.

“And because I love you,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads to the bathroom. “I love you the mostest. Thank you for the best birthday.”

Lying back on the bed, you let out a contented sigh, your heart full. There’s no one else you’d rather celebrate with—2 AM or not.