#and i was like hmm! not really ! it's just not something we're used to seeing so it can seem odd at first but it's harmless! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

norikuna · 5 days ago

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PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE ! ★ gojo satoru

prologue ⋆ ★ your boyfriend, gojo satoru, told you that he was gonna' stay behind in japan, he had to go to work and all — he's a high school teacher, you see. so what's he doing sneaking behind the red carpet, looking all suspiciously rumpled and mussed? oh hell no.

pairing ⋆ ★ gojo satoru x reader genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab!reader, jujutsu canon, celebrity!reader, misunderstandings and mild angst, reader doesn't know about jujutsu, makeup séx, máting préss, cérvix kissing, brééding kink :D

word count ⋆ ★ 5.7k! a/n ⋆ ★ because i've always wanted gojo to be on the red carpet...yasss watched the grammys <3 smth silly, short and sweet i whipped up 😁

THE HOTTEST STAR OF THE YEAR RUSHES FROM RED CARPET, WHY? STAY TUNED FOR MORE.

saint laurent heels beat staccato taps into the worn brick, graff crystals dangling from your adorned wrist as you shove your brightly lit phone into your boyfriend's face, "what the hell, satoru?" the offending headline glaring right back at him from your screen.

gojo, for his part, just shoves his hands into his navy slacks, rolling his shoulders back in that deliciously snug ice-blue cotton dress shirt, sleeves pushed up to reveal thick forearms dusted with pale hair. you curse how your gaze dips, resolve cracking, and glossy lips pursed.

strange, how he he looks nothing short of absolutely roughed up, soft fabric crumpled, and sunglasses tilted askew. white hair mussed as though someone took to running their hands through snowy locks, huh.

"hi, baby. happy to see me?"

oh, he's trying to be charming. cute. gojo's grinning, lips parting over sharp teeth, acting as though he totally hadn't been lurking behind rows of insistent paparazzi practically hurdling themselves around the red carpet stairs.

and despite better judgement and little regard for desperate tabloids springing up, you'd pushed past security, past cries of your name, to chase after your boyfriend, who had just texted you an hour ago at most. about how work was going so great.

"you better have a really, really good explanation for this."

to his credit, gojo has the decent sense to look mildly ashamed. pale blue eyes narrow beneath tinted lenses, and he's faintly chewing on the inside of his cheek, "d'you want the long version or the short version? because you gotta' believe me, baby, hear me out –"

something's buzzing, faintly pulsing to the beat of not like us, it's gojo's phone. and he's fumbling through the deep pockets of his slacks. you furiously snap your eyes away from how well they fit, that's so not the point right now, ugh!

"your side chick, hmm?"

gojo looks vaguely offended, rolling his eyes skywards as he unlocks his phone, "hey, we got some attitude today, pretty. why's that?"

you cross your arms over oscar de la renta, sheer panels stitched to mimic stained glass, bless your stylist, truly. "we got some attitude 'cause my boyfriend told me he was busy with work, and had to teach class. dropped me off at the airport, even."

gojo sighs, teeth kissing his tongue as he clicks, "i am working, believe me. and — oh."

you crunch your heel into the gravel, loose stones that line this back passage behind the carpet and the theatre, "what's oh? 'toru?"

"promise not to get mad?" gojo's murmuring, tilting his dim phone screen around. it's a screenshot of a headline, barely a minute old. the photo? you, here, right now. wagging a stern finger at gojo, who's throwing his hands up in disbelief.

STAR FLEES RED CARPET TO RENDEZVOUS WITH MYSTERY MAN? BOYFRIEND, OR SOMETHING MORE?

the tagline follows, some blithe words about how you're prioritising a man in the shadows, over a shining career? over a golden gramophone clutched in your hand, lights sparkling your name on stage. you hiss at the ridiculous amount of shares and comments already, "oh, come on."

"we're so screwed, baby," gojo sighs, rubbing his temple, swiping away at a quick notification from stoic lookin' blonde who doesn't even crack a smile in his profile photo, kento? huh, you've never met a kento.

you sigh, feeling the headache oncoming at the mere thought of your manager furiously scouring the theatre for you, "we?"

gojo scowls, shoving his phone away, "hey, i have people to answer to as well. last thing i need is a public image."

what an odd sentiment, you privately wonder. gojo is wealthy, stupidly so. you're certain of that. something about old money, his family stretches back generations on some beautiful estate. but he's a high school teacher. you've seen him grade quizzes, seen blurry photos of students in dark jackets and neatly pressed uniforms. a private school on the outskirts of tokyo, sure, but public image?

"since when do high school teachers care about their pr?"

gojo flexes his hands, and your eyes drop. slender fingers that you know like the back of your own hand, fingers you've traced absentmindedly when he's sprawled across your couch, fingers that have curled into the dip of your waist in the quiet hours of the night. long, pale, too elegant for someone as brash as him, tensing now as though he's bracing for impact. he's hesitating, weird, because gojo satoru never hesitates.

well, maybe once. the first time he asked you out, flushed and nigh tripping over himself, looking so damn adorable that you had stomped your loubitons, and said 'yes' just so you could kiss him.

"i need to tell you something, baby."

something cold slides down your spine, and it has nothing to do with the evening chill. the air shifts, thickens, pressing against your skin in a way that makes your pulse gallop. you swallow, tongue suddenly heavy in your mouth at how gojo looks unsettled.

that's what gets you. he's never like this. not even that one time months ago when you caught him unwrapping white bandages from his eyes, headache, he had muttered, fingers gripping some torn, stained bundle of purple and green silk. he had crashed out on your cosmos couch minutes later, surly and morose for the days that followed.

your mind races. his family, it has to be his family. the old-money, aristocratic gojo family, the family that he's never introduced you too. they probably think actresses and pop stars are meant to be ogled at from afar, hardly worthy material to bring home to the estate. your stomach churns, for is that why he showed up here, rumpled and tense, instead of waiting until you got home? is this it, ending things?

your heart's hammering, and you hate this, hate it so bad. how how much you want to cling to him, to stop whatever he's about to say from slipping past his candy-pink lips.

"i'm a sorcerer."

there's a sharp, stabbing pain right behind your eyes.

and you're blinking, slowly, mind whirring. then you laugh, loud. sharp, and far too high-pitched, "god, this is why i love you. you're funny, 'toru. i can't believe you actually had me worried and shit, like –"

"i'm being serious, baby." and that's the thing, isn't it? he seems so, like he believes every word coming out of his mouth. his hands, big and warm, close around yours, and there's something in the way that he clasps you, as though he's pleading, and it makes you freeze.

"swear i would never string you along in something like this," gojo murmurs, "i know it's a lot, but seriously, you can ask me anything. anything, and i'll try to answer. and i wasn't ever sure how i was gonna' tell you, but promise i was waiting for the right time and –"

your boyfriend, bless his beautiful face and questionable judgement, and golden heart, has lost his goddamn mind.

your fingers tighten around his, feeling the scrape of faint callouses and scars, "okay, c'mon. now this is getting a little weird."

"you don't believe me?" and gojo looks, god, he looks devastated. long, white lashes fluttering against icy eyes, earnest in a way that makes your stomach twist.

"babe, you said sorcerer right? like...magic? big pointy hats, and all that shit?"

gojo just nods, a faint flush colouring his cheeks, "jujutsu sorcerer. it's real, like, y'know shoko? remember when we met her at that bar downtown, we went to school together. she can back me up, or –, or, i can take you to the school, or introduce you to –"

"okay, okay!" you pull your hands away, feeling your breath hitch as your pulse pounds in your ears, "satoru, stop. seriously. i don't know what you're trying to do here, but it's really startin' to freak me out."

gojo's jaw tightens, the beautiful and haunting lines of his face hardening. something raw, and something sharp flickers through his eyes, "you think i'm fuckin' with you?" there's something brittle in the low control of his tone, "you think i'd joke about this?

you throw your hands up, bejewelled bvlgari sliding down your digits, "yes, satoru! you joke about everything, sometimes." your heart is erratic now, bile sitting in the back of your throat, "what the fuck are you even sayin', like, magic? that you really want me to believe that you're a wizard?"

"not a wizard, sorcerer."

"oh, my bad," you bite out, lips snapping around disbelieving words, "that just makes so much more sense."

gojo's eyes flare, and he's pressing a thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his defined nose, as though he can feel another one of his migraines creeping up, "god, can you just, — can you just listen to me for once?"

"listen to you?" you laugh, but it's far more of a disbelieving scoff, "listen to yourself, please. satoru, we're halfway across the world right now. i could put my career, my entire future, on hold because i really do love you. and now you're telling me that you — what? fight demons in your free time?"

"curses," gojo mutters, rolling big, blue eyes, as though it makes much of a difference to you.

"oh my god."

gojo's looking at you as though he doesn't even recognise you, like he expected something different, as though you're the one making this hard. his throat is bobbing, adam's apple shifting, and you can see his hands pinch at his sides, "knew you wouldn't believe me," he's muttering, shaking his head of tousled, white hair, "this was jus' stupid, no wonder i never tried this whole time."

"they why do it now?" you throw the words at him, suddenly furious and hurting, because you don't understand why he's pulling this on you, now. "why? like, go on, show me something, then, 'toru! or otherwise this is some insane, insane shit, i can't even – i don't know what you want me to do."

gojo's mouth opens, and then closes. his shoulders droop just slightly, and for a moment, just a brief and flickering moment, he looks far more tired than his twenty-eight years. but a split second passes, and he's exhaling, just stepping back.

"forget it," gojo snaps, voice clipped, "this was a mistake. i got real shit to do, talk to y'afterwards." he's turning, stalking off and pulling his sunglasses away from his face (he rarely does that), as though you're the one that's let him down.

what the fuck? the tell-tale click of a camera rings your ears, followed by a bright flash. great. you need a drink, stat.

you shouldn't do this. you know you shouldn't do this. and yet, here you are, gripping at gojo's sleek phone, left with you when he disappeared to fuck knows where.

your fingers twitch around the case, like you should just chuck it across the hotel suite and be done with this whole thing. but you don't, you just sit there. the silence pressing in too thick, your manager's tired voice still rattling in your skull.

yes. you have a boyfriend. yes, he showed up tonight. yes, you still love him, even if he's lost his marbles.

you keep that last part to yourself, thumb hesitating over your own phone, resisting the urge to doom scroll your way into some clarity. as though your snark reddit thread is going to have some answers for this mess.

the oscar de la renta is long gone, carefully pried off and zipped away into a smooth, dark bag — leaving you in a slinky ysl number, straight from their summer runway, drumming your fingers along the bejewelled hem as diamonds still glint at your ears. and gojo? nowhere to be found.

you exhale sharply, rolling his phone between your palms before pressing the screen to life. you shouldn't, you never do this. in two years, you've never once felt the need to snoop, nor pry, to check if he was lyin' about anything, because he never gave you a reason to.

but here you are, thumbing in the passcode anyway. it's your birthday, fuck. of course it is. you're staring at the unlocked screen, suddenly still, what the hell are you even looking for? if this was some elaborate joke, some ruse, what would you find? some notes app plan to send you spiralling? but it was the way that gojo satoru had looked, as though he had truly been hurt, and it hadn't seem false at all.

your thumb hesitates, tapping onto the messages. skimming past familiar names, shoko (right, yep), that kento, and something from an okkotsu with a smiling emoticon next to it. your stomach churns at the intrusion, but your curiosity (and desire to break free of the doghouse) presses harder. you press at a read bubble.

yaga we think it's a special grade. could possess a domain. gojo exorcised it. 👍

you're peering at the timestamp, thirty mere minutes before you had torn away from the red carpet, demanding to know why the hell he looked as though he lost the fight with an angry gnome, as though he'd wrestled a ghost in the back alley.

your mouth goes bone dry, 'exorcised.' this clearly isn't a joke, it's far too intricate, too deeply woven into gojo's life for it to be some elaborate prank. you feel vaguely ill, swiping through emails, some from a guy named ijichi, reports full of the kind of gory details you'd expect from a crime documentary. terms like domain expansion, cursed energy and a special grade blur together as you flip onto your side, heels still dangling off the bed, skirt hem riding up.

then, by pure accident, you tap into his camera roll. oh, there's so much of you. soft candid shots, like you laughing into a martini. you, asleep in the passenger seat of his car, caught mid-bite into a croissant that time he took you to paris. a dumb, fond smile tugs at your sparkling lips despite yourself, but then you swipe and —

a video. you press play, praying to the heavens above that there's no mortal punishment for being a nosy ass.

gojo, in that sleek, grey suit that you so adore. he seems to be at some restaurant, on a cruise ship, perhaps? demolishing a banana split with the kind of enthusiasm that most men reserve for their wedding night.

next to him, a pale and dark-haired boy is watching in resigned horror, while the bleary, unfocused lens swivels to a group of more, unfamiliar teenagers. they're all dressed in some form of black-tie wear, rambling about completed missions and gojo-sensei.

sensei, you frown, feeling a thick lump in your throat. they must be his students, the ones from his classes, and the way they're talking to him, laughing and giggling? he's so, so loved. fuck, what had you been missing?

the camera lingers on a girl with a sharp sway of auburn hair, propped with her elbows on the table, in a frilly black dress. there's a pink-haired kid nudging her as she snaps her fingers, something glinting on the table.

nails, like those you'd see at some hardware store. nails that move, without her even touching them once. your stomach twists, and you rewind. once. twice. ten times. watching, staring, trying to catch at how the metal swivels without even brushed against.

sorcery. gojo had said to your face, and you had scoffed. tch', you snap the phone shut and shove it on the soft sheets, something ugly clawing at your throat. nausea, guilt. some form of shame, and exasperation with the man you love for not telling you this earlier.

you fiddle with the diamond hanging from your ear, forlornly glancing at the heavy door, for you want gojo. to say that you're sorry, to say that you're furious he didn't explain this better, to say that you love him, that you want him to be alright, that you need him, that you want —

slam!

the door swings open, no keycard, and no knock. and you near damn jump out of your skin, a rush of heat and cold spiking through you all at once. crawling over your bare arms, legs still glossed and smoothed underneath your little dress.

gojo. gojo, standing there, looking undone. ruffled, and heaving as he drinks the sight of you in. those ever-present sunglasses, those tinted shades that he so favours are gone. and when his eyes flick up to you, you suck in a breath so sharp that it scrapes at your throat.

they glow, electric blue, almost too vibrant to be real, like something pulled straight out of a vivid imagination.

"satoru," you manage, voice pattering away at how his head snaps up at the sound of your voice, catching the way his lips part, something frayed and desperate twisting his expression. the fine cotton of his shirt is streaked with red, and there's a smear of that same crimson shade reaching up his left cheek, stretching up to his ear. like a painter who got impatient with a brush.

"baby," gojo exhales, voice thick, as though he's been holding this in all night, moving towards you, steady, "i shoulda' told you, told you more. need you to believe me, but –"

you press a manicured finger against his lips, "i believe you. satoru, i really do. i'm so sorry, i had no idea and — wait, whose blood is this?"

gojo shudders under your touch, just the slightest tremour, eyes blown wide, "not who," lashes fluttering lower, leaning against you, "what. and it doesn't matter much now."

your boyfriend's searching your face, looking for something, something more intimate, desparate in your expression. his brows pulled together, and mouth parting into a soft oh! when he sees a mirror reflection of his own want.

and then, he's kissing you, and you're kissing him. whining desperately into the press of his lips, suddenly hot for the urge to pull your legs right against that thick bulge that jostles at your thigh. to lean more into the wandering hands that tug at the hem of season ysl.

you're gasping, not protesting as thick hands pull at your thighs. laying you flat against the bed, the finest suite that this hotel has to offer. away from prying eyes, and nosy reporters hoping to catch the who's who of your bedmates. or rather, the singular love of your life.

gojo's chuckling at your expression, "don't worry, baby. won't ruin yer' pretty dress," lips curled into a slow smile, burning a determined path down the arch of your neck, past the low dip of your neckline over your breasts, "want me, baby? wan' this?"

"so bad," you murmur, just giggling as gojo groans, pulling you up so you're splayed out for him, balanced across his thighs. the very tip of your heels digging into his back as you cross your legs to pull him closer, "m'boyfriend's so hot."

gojo whines into your chest, laving blossoming bruises over the skin that you know will give the makeup artists a field day, and it's obvious how needy he is. thick curve of his bulge pressing right up against your core, rutting his hips for some friction as he showers you in attention, worshipping your form. lips coming back to press into yours, laving at your mouth.

"hah, 'toru!" you yelp, adjusting the silky, beaded neckline, "easy on the d-dress. fuck, can't explain that to my s-stylist when you –" you're mewling, your words getting lost in the heat of gojo's panting mouth.

"what'dya take me for, baby?" gojo hums, slick strands clinging to his dewy lips, running broad hands over your waist, "but i gotta' show my girl," and here, he's patting lower over your hips, "some lovin', and some care, heh."

gojo truly fears he may be obsessed with you, just as much as the rest of the world is. but he, well, he's the only one who gets to see you like this, the flesh of your thighs splayed out underneath the hem that's ridden up of that gorgeous number you've got on. throwing your head back for him, just him.

he's sighing, prettily, tapping at your cheek with loving fingers, "can fuck ya' here, right? gonna' do it so good, show y'some other things you've been missin' out on."

you tilt your head, "you already fuck me that good, 'toru." feeling him groan, racking his bulge up against you once more, "never made me miss out on a, hah, a d-damn thing."

gojo looks ravenous, eyes still wide, white lashes framing the pools of vibrant, electric blue, "told ya' about jujutsu, didn't i?" pressing a filthy kiss to your lips once more, "well, heh, just you wait. can use it for plentyyy other things, baby."

your dress is being pushed up, the soft fabric giving little resistance as gojo presses the rough pads of his fingers into your hips. haute couture giving way for gojo to touch as much of you as he can.

"baby," he's whining, jaw slack as he slides a finger over the crevice of your thighs, "prettiest fuckin' thing i've ever seen. love you so bad, it hurts. it really, really does." and how could you not love him back, gojo who's peering at you with dilated, adoring eyes?

"just gonna, yeah, put ya' down there. don't gotta' do much, just lay there, pretty." gojo's pressing you down slowly, gently. further into the mattress, as he slots himself right at the apex of your thighs. slapping at your fingers when you reach for the straps of your heels, "don't," he whines, petulant, "it looks hot. might hafta' get you another pair," bestowing another sweet kiss upon your waiting, swollen lips when you scoff.

"satoru," you purr, carding your polished nails over the man's scalp, threading your fingers through soft, white strands. relishing in how his throat bobs, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling, "said you had some jujutsu, that's the word, right? something to show me? well?"

whatever paper thin resolve had been holding gojo satoru cracks, snapping away as gojo's eyes harden, hand pulling at the bands of your thin, sheer panties. ones clearly meant to flirt, and tease.

the lace waistband gives way with a gutting, sopping tear. and gojo's grinning, wide so sharp canines poke out from underneath cherry lips, rolling the ball of torn fabric up and tucking them away into his pockets, snickering as though he's won his prize, "s-soaked, already?"

you fight the furious blush that colours your cheeks when gojo whistles, low and impressed, laying himself flat on his stomach so your heels are swinging over his shoulders, resting against his back, as he takes in the brazen sight of your swollen folds throbbing, "pretty pussy's always so wet for me, heh." watching clear slick gather from your mound to your entrance, sliding his index finger along your slit, "wanna' taste you, baby."

you know there's little else on this earth that brings as much pleasure as gojo's eager mouth, the way he becomes truly ravenous when he's in between your legs — thighs hooked over his frame. how he always knows the right spots to press his mouth to, where to flatten his tongue against your slick. but now? right now, you want him in you. mouth lolling at the idea of his thick inches stuffin' you so, so full.

gojo latches onto your silence, resting his soft head of white hair against your thigh, batting long lashes up at you from underneath his lidded gaze, "or does my pretty girl want somethin' else, mhm?" the corners of his soft, pink lips quirking upwards in the ghost of a knowing smile.

it's hard to form a decent response when his slender middle finger is teasing over your glimmering slit, making you keen at the slick pop! of your arousal ringing in your ears, "s-satoru! think you, hahh, know what i want, please."

you're not above begging, certainly not when gojo's grinning, as pleased as the cat who got the cream. looming up to unbuckle his fine, leather belt, and hissing when his own hand provides just enough fiction to make his ears blush a hot, deep crimson.

you never, ever grow tired of this sight. the pale flush on gojo's neck trailing down, down further past sinous muscle and soft flesh. past the curl of white hairs on his groin, and to the long, thick curve of his cock that already looks as though it's throbbing.

"wait a sec', baby," gojo breathes, two gentle fingers pushing past your dripping folds to gather some of the translucent slick pooling onto the sheets beneath you. the wet smack! of his hand pumping your arousal over his cock like some lubricant, and the way he's releasing a sharp, serpentine sound at how filthy it all is.

he's teasing you, and it makes you groan. makes you writhe on the bed, desperately hoping that he has some form of mercy on you, bucking your cunt against his rounded, leaking tip that's sliding through your folds, "gonna' show ya' exactly how i hit bullseye each time, baby."

there's that luminous blue light, pulsing from gojo's irises (that you swear have reformed into feral, little hearts). it's a shade of blue so intense, it seems as though he's been carved from the sky itself.

"f-fuck," you whine, feeling the first inch of his thick shaft nudging past your swollen, aching folds, "hngh, 'toru, fuck, 's big." whimpering from the sheer pleasure as gojo chuckles, his warm palms resting on your thighs to swing your legs over his shoulders once more. pressing down into the meanest mating press that you can imagine.

glorious, hot inches rummaging past your gummy walls, exploring every crevice as you're certain his weeping tip must already be kissing that sensitive spot at your cervix, "babe, satoru, fillin' me so good already."

the nasty, acute angle at which he's got you folded is something out of your most lustful dreams, ones where gojo's panting just like he is now, already babbling, "always s'perfect for me, perfect fit, love you baby," that low rumble in gojo's chest quivering as he litters droopy kisses over your cheek, your neck and down your collarbone.

that purr falling from gojo's glossy lips getting louder with each surefire hit that he delivers against your sweet, rough spot, and had you been in a more coherent state, you would have been marvelling at how instantly your boyfriend had managed to hit the bullseye he promised, and you hear him faintly laugh, "called six eyes, baby. gonna' show you allll the ways i can use it, heh."

not able to stop the whimper when you feel the sticky smack of skin against your ass, slamming into you over and over again, "y'got two eyes, though?"

a damn near sob when he begins rolling his hips so sluttily, so he can truly swab at you with the most pleasurable sensation, laughing so pretty with a faint dimple creasing the corner of his mouth, "tch', so much to teach ya', baby. don't worry, we'll cover everything."

"hah, 'toru, satoru, babe," you squeal, the very tips of your manicured nails placing little perfect pricks onto the nape of gojo's flushed neck, "fuckin' me so damn' good." and you know how much your boyfriend likes to be praised, for he's flushing even more, whining as you lock your ankles in the air.

and the pace that he keeps up is nothing short of inhuman, tacking his groin against your sloppy clit until there's tears of relief pooling on your lashes. and it's not like you've ever been left dissatisfied with gojo satoru around, for from the very first night, he's been an expert at leaving you bleary eyed, and hazy with little cupid arrows dancing around your head.

but to be aware of all this, well, it's something different. there's that raw, searing blue gaze that you've never caught before, sending waves of raw pleasure down your spine.

each raspy groan drawn out of gojo is punctuated with the thick slap of his cock against your inner walls, that filthy mess of his pre and your arousal puddling beneath your hips and thighs so, so deliciously.

as though he's committing every inch of you to memory, his girthy shaft bullying fat inches, battering your guts with the most tingly, mind-numbing kisses ever, and he seems to be sipping at your lips, downing his favourite taste (or second favourite, he may claim with a cheeky grin). kissing at your neck, beneath the weight of diamonds that glitter at your flushed ears.

you're trying to shift under the weight pushing you down, parting your thighs to create more space so you can gasp, "h-here, 'toru, please. 'm so close, wanna' cum with you."

and how could gojo satoru not want to propose to you right then and there? visions running through his head, all of you. you, his wife, his love, and the idea of, fuck, little bundles with his white hair cradled in your arms. visions that he's heard you talk about fondly before. already dreaming of that opulent diamond band he saw in that window store front of some luxury flagship store.

and gojo doesn't even realise he's getting caught up in that lovesick haze. nimble fingers rolling over the hood of your throbbing clit, tight circles being traced over the sensitive bud. and how he relishes the sound of your wanton moans falling against his ear, you have to finish, he needs to see it.

six eyes kicking up into overdrive as he angles his aching cock just so, that ghostly, cobalt light finding the exact spot in your pretty, perfect cunt to make you whine and squeal, and gojo feels as though he may have just seen the pearly gates when you quiver, shaking in his hold as you release crashes down on you. you, you, you. falling apart so prettily for him, lashes fluttering shut as you squeeze your eyes, and there's that gorgeous glow that he so loves to admire.

"hah, ah, 'toru!" you dig into his back, feeling up the open dress shirt still hanging from him, "s-sensitive, babe. so, s-soo good, mmph!" moaning at the feeling of gojo bursting, filling you with thick ropes of pearly release, throbbing right at your very core. laughing fondly as he kisses you through his own release, gasping and groaning into your mouth, "baby, fuck, baby, love you sooo much." clearly reluctant to even pull out of you, but enamoured by the sight of viscous, creamy cum leaking of you, practically adoring the filthy sight.

"tsk', i got sloppy with my aim, pretty," gojo hisses, "didn't put it all in ya', wanna try again?"

you're tucked against gojo's chest, cheek pressed to that expensive cologne that always lingers on him. spicy, clean, with that faint undercurrent of something sweet. his hand is in your hair, raking through it, and he's laughing, laughing as he smooths down your dress, all so fond and unbothered as you scowl.

for you know that tomorrow, everyone's gonna' be demanding answers as to why that brand new little ysl looks as though you crawled through a hedge backwards. black silk all wrinkled, straps coming loose at your shoulders.

speaking of answers...

"satoru?" you murmur, lacing your fingers with his, and gojo just hums in acknowledge, slow and lazy as you sigh, "do you have a kid?"

your boyfriend's freezing, and you feel him stiffen beneath you as he pulls back to stare at you, "what — like a kid kid? like a mini-me?" pink, kiss-stung lips parted as he's blinking, as though he's missing to whatever you've caught on.

"yeah," you mumble, suddenly feeling a lil' silly about it, "i was just, y'know, looking at your phone. swear i wasn't being nosy on purpose, just wanted to see all that sorcerer shit you were talkin' about. and i think i saw something, like a legal doc' with a kid under your name." tapping your chin in thought, "ugh, what was it again? megumi?"

gojo's features shift, that flicker of 'oh shit' that makes you backtrack, "i don't mind, by the way," you blurt, hands up, "not mad or anythin', just, like, wanted to know. since you were tellin' me everything about you, and if you have like a secret child, or two –"

a beat, and then gojo laughs. you can feel the vibrations of the deep rumbles in his chest, that ridiculous cackle that makes your ribs shake against his chest. thick arms locking you tighter against him as he grins, "oh, baby," he's purring, "it's a long story. see, i met this fella' once, toji zenin, this was wayy back when i was in school, and he killed me –"

"what the fuck?"

"i have a lotta' stories like this, don't worry. i'll tell ya' whatever you wanna' know, hah."

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo #gojo x you #daphworks

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jinwoosbabyboo · 6 months ago

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“Daddy’s Home”

Telling the LADS Men you're pregnant. The setting? Happily Married and both parties want kids. Nothing but fluff here (All these men are substantially financially stable and I love that for us)

Zayne

MC: Zayne I have something important to tell you

Zayne: I'm listening

MC: Im pregnant

Zayne: ....

MC: Baby?

Zayne: Im going to be a father?

MC: Yes we're having a baby

Zayne: I need to childproof the house. I'll need to work more hours.

MC: You already work inhuman hours

Zayne: We need a bigger house. Should I build it? I should build it. Why are you standing? You shouldn't be on your feet

MC: Sir I am 2 minutes pregnant we have time to prepare for this bundle of joy

Zayne: They'll need a college fund, driving lessons, a tutor...

Zayne continues mumbling and mulling over every single detail to himself

MC: I guess I'll relax enough for the both of us

Rafayel

MC: Raf sit down I need to tell you something

Rafayel: Why do I need to sit down?

MC: Its safer

Rafayel: My Lemurian senses are tingling but I'll trust you

MC: Okay breath in

Rafayel: *breathes in*

MC: now breath out

Rafayel: *breathes out*

MC: I'm pregnant

Rafayel: *Chokes on his spit* WHAT!

MC: Im 2 months pregnant

Rafayel: I'm gonna be a mother????

MC: No you're gonna be a father

Rafayel: Can I handle this? Can I still eat seafood? Am I allowed to swim in the ocean?

MC: Why are you acting like you're the one carrying twins?

Rafayel: TWINS?! I GET A TWO FOR ONE DEAL?!

MC: What am I? A yard sale?? Don't say it like that

Rafayel: You’re really pregnant?

Rafayel grabs your hands and holds them to his chest where you can feel his heart racing

MC: Yes we’re going to be parents

Rafayel: you....and i....preg-.... twi-

MC: don't pass out please don't pass out right now

Rafayel: *Passes out anyway*

Xavier

MC: Xavier?

Xavier who was currently laying with his head buried in your lap with his arms wrapped around your waist.

Xavier: Hmm?

MC: Do you want a baby? With me?

Xavier rubbing small circles on your lower back with his thumb as he stirred in his sleepy state

Xavier: I want everything with you

MC: Good

Xavier: *Dozing off*

MC: Because I’m pregnant

Xavier: That’s great

MC: …

Xavier: …

MC: and 3….2……..1

Xavier: Wait what ???

MC: You heard me

Xavier: So I’m a dad?

MC: Father to be

Xavier: We have to start their swordsmanship training right away

MC: How about we take it slow like letting them grow in my stomach first?

Xavier: Oh I guess you’re probably right

MC: yea now lay back down

Xavier snuggles right back into your lap placing soft kisses on your stomach that isn’t even showing yet

Xavier: My little angel

Sylus

MC: I need your help how would you tell someone they're a father?

Luke: Im a father?!

MC: Luke shut up

Kieran: *Shoves Luke*

Luke: Sorry

MC: I just don't know how to tell Sylus

Sylus: Tell me what?

Kieran: Me and Luke are uncles now!

MC: Kieran!

Sylus: You’re pregnant?

MC: *Shows the pregnancy test* We’re having a baby

Sylus: Looks as though my efforts weren’t in vain

MC: You were trying to get me pregnant?

Sylus: Why do you think I constantly had you in a mating press?

MC: Sylus! Don’t talk like that in front of the twins

Sylus: *chuckles* I can’t wait to see you plump and glowing with our child princess

Later….

Kieran: I can’t wait to teach them sarcasm

Luke: I’m definitely doing everything their strict parents tell them not to do

Sylus: You two. Sidebar. In my office. Now.

MC, In the background: ooouu you guys are in trouble … bad uncles and the baby isn’t even here yet

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #lnds sylus #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads #lads rafayel #lads zayne #lads xavier #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #nikaaaaimagine

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fairytaleendingss · 1 month ago

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Room for One More?

Chapter 9

Summary: Secrets are revealed on New Years Eve.

CW: Alcohol consumption, sexual references, mention of cigarettes, swearing, lots of drama.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

"YOU SLEPT WITH SIRIUS?!"

"Shh! Mary keep your voice down," you uttered, looking around to see how many of your coworker's heads had swivelled towards you in response to Mary's loud exclamation.

"Sorry," she grimaced. "I'm just.. I'm in shock."

You sighed and leaned back where you were perched on the corner of her desk. "I think I am a bit as well."

There was a pause.

"Well, was it good?"

"Mary! Oh my god!" you groaned and threw a hand over your face to hide your mortification.

"What? I'm just asking. I can't say that I haven't imagined it once or twice myself-"

You slapped her gently across the shoulder with the back of your hand. "You're distrubed. You know that?"

She smirked. "You know you love me."

You rolled your eyes affectionately at your friend. "Anyway, we'd been drinking and it was Christmas and we were having such a wonderful time. I think we just got swept up in it all and now I don't know what to do. Things have been kind of... weird between us."

"Well have you guys talked about it?" Mary inquired.

"That's the thing. Afterwards he just kind of moved on like it never happened. I don't know if he thinks it was a mistake or something but it's stressing me out."

"Hmm," a thoughtful look crossed Mary's face as she took everything in. "Well how are you feeling about it? Do you think it was a mistake?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "No? I-I don't think so. I dont know."

A look of realisation washed over Mary's face. "Do you like him??"

"I mean, of course I like him. I'm just not sure I like like him."

Your friend sighed exasperatedly. "Oh my god! We're not in Primary School, just answer the damn question!"

"Fine! I guess the answer is... yes?" you sighed. "But whatever! Does it even make a difference? He's made it exceptionally clear that he doesn't feel the same way."

"Look," Mary huffed, her expression growing sincere. "Sirius is great. He's fun and friendly and a total flirt but he's also been known to be a little emotionally constipated. Just be honest with him. Talk to him about it. He's not going to be able to pick up on any signals you're trying to send him."

You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a breath throught your nose. "Ugh fine."

"Good girl," Mary smiled. "Now go away. I actually have some work to get done today."

"Oh fine. I suppose I know when I'm not wanted," you teased, getting up and walking back towards your desk.

"Love you!" Mary called lightheartedly as you walked away.

"Yeah, yeah," you joked in response.

As you arrived back at your desk and slumped down in your chair, prepared to get back to work, a head peaked down at you over the cubical.

"Oh, you're back, I see."

You jumped slightly at the unexpected voice and looked up to see its perpertrator.

"Yes, Glenn. Hi. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Glenn was a new employee in your office and he sat in the cubical opposite yours. He was only a few years older than you and he was tall and fit with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. In the few weeks you'd known him for, he'd been particularly friendly towards you and recently you'd been getting the idea that he had taken a liking to you.

You weren't interested of course. He was an attractive guy but not really your type. And with everything going on with Sirius over the last week, you'd been making a effort to put some distance between you. You definitely weren't looking for anything of that nature right now and you didn't want to give him the wrong impression. However, Glenn was nothing if not persistant.

"Actually, I was just wondering if you had any plans for new years tonight? A few of my mates are throwing a party and you're welcome to join us if you're interested."

You sent him you're most empathetic smile. "That sounds lovely but unfortunately I already have some plans with my friends."

He sighed, flashing you a grin that looked suspiciously rehearsed. "Oh well. No problem. It was worth a shot. You have fun tonight."

"You too, Glenn."

As the man dissapeared back over the divider, you let out a heafty sigh. Tonight was surely going to be interesting.

The view was impeccable from the bar where your friends had gathered to spend New Years. In fact, seated beside a huge floor to ceiling window, you suspected you'd have a clear view of the New Years fireworks.

It was a classy joint, one that Dorcas had managed to get you access to through one of her fancy lawyer contacts.

Everyone was assembled on stools around a table, looking out over the London skyline. It was about four hours until midnight and the group was chatting excitedly in the lead up.

"I've got shots!" Mary called out and everyone cheered as she returned to the table with a tray.

She passed the drinks around and then took her seat beside you.

"Well, I suggest a toast!" James called out, grabbing the attention of the group. "To a wonderful year ahead, and many more memories with old, and new, friends!"

He emphasised the last line with a pointed look in your direction and you felt your cheeks growing hot.

"Cheers!" Marlene shouted enthusiastically and the others echoed her sentiments, clinking glasses and swallowing their drinks.

The burning of the liquor was welcomed as the drink ran down your throat. You'd been thinking a lot about what Mary had said to you in regards to your situation with Sirius. And as he sat beside you, laughing animatedly at one of Peter's stories, it only confirmed your worst fears. Maybe you were starting to develop feelings for your roommate. You grimaced at the thought. Things were bound to get messy in situations like this.

"So guys," Sybil piped up from across the table. "Let's all go around and say our New Years resolutions."

"Oh, I'll go first!" James volunteered. "I hope my team continues to play a great season annnddd... I want to work out more."

There was a collective groan.

"Come on, James. That's not a real one!" Mary complained.

Sirius chuckled, taking a pointed sip of his drink. "Yeah! You already work out like 7 times a day!"

"Ugh, okay fine!" James responded with groan. He thought for a moment. "How about this one. I'd like to fall in love this year."

You didn't miss the way his eyes flickered across the table towards Lily and you felt your heart sink. Lily seemed to take notice a well as she averted her eyes, taking a heafty gulp of the drink in her hand.

"Aww, James. Always the romantic, aren't you?" Marlene chuckled.

"Shut up." James rolled his eyes playfully. "Your turn then, Marls."

"Okay," She took a deep breath. "My goal this year is to become super rich and famous and sucessful."

"I second that!" Mary called across the table and you giggled as they clinked their glasses.

"Y/n. Your turn," Dorcas announced.

"Oh okay, um..." you thought for a moment, your gaze flashing to James and Remus across the table, then over to Sirius, who was watching you expectanly, a playlful glimmer in his stormy eyes.

You then looked back towards the rest of the group. "This year, I'd like to spend some more time with you lovely people."

A round of cooing echoed across the table and Mary threw her arms around you.

"Well aren't you just the sweetest!"

"Oh, and I'd like to work more on my novel," you added.

"Alright, alright. Sirius, you're up!" Marlene chimed.

The boy beside you pursed his lips, looking off into the distance as if deep in thought. Then, after a long moment, he turned back to all of you with a mischievous smirk on his lips.

"This year, I want to have lots of amazing sex!"

"Ew. Sirius, you're so foul," Lily exclaimed, followed by a symphany of similar sentiments from the other members of the group.

While everyone else was distracted, grumbling and groaning about Sirius' bluntness, the man leaned down towards you.

"You look great tonight, by the way." He whispered into your hair.

You gulped thickly, not quite sure what to do with yourself. You opted for downing the remainder of your Vodka, Lime and Soda.

As the evening drew on, you found yourself growing more anxious in Sirius' presence. You weren't quite sure what his game was, whether it was the alcohol or he was just feeling extra bold tonight, but he'd been suspiciously flirtatious.

You didn't know how to respond. Part of you wanted to let him. To let him woo you and go crawling back for more of what you'd had together on Christmas Night. However, the other, more logical part of you, told you that was a terrible idea. He was your roommate afterall. The last thing you wanted was to start some complicated friends-with-benefits situation with a guy you lived with, especially one that you had sort of, maybe, possibly had caught feelings for.

You downed another drink, feeling the alcohol grip you and hoped it would help to ease the nerves ever so slightly. You realised then, that you were staring.

Sirius had gone to the bar to order another round of drinks and you'd been watching with bated breath as he sent his signature smile to a girl wearing an explicitly tight black dress. You noticed the way she leaned forward, pressing her cleavage up against the bar as she spoke to him. God, could she be anymore obvious?

"Calm the hell down, y/n!" You thought to yourself. "It's not like you guys are together. He can flirt with whoever he wants."

"Hey, are you okay?" you raked your eyes away from the scene as a voice came from beside you.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," You muttered absently, too distracted to notice that it was Remus who asked the question.

"Okay, never have I ever... made out with more than one person on the same night!" Mary's voice rang out and you forced your attention back to the group.

You weren't sure when this game had begun but you suspected it was suggested by one of the girls (likely Mary or Marlene) as a way to pass the final hour until midnight. You hadn't participated in this game since probably highschool, but you were all a few drinks in at this point so you figured, what the hell?

You watched as Marlene, James and Dorcas all took a sip. Then Lily sent Mary a pointed look.

"Come on, Mary. That's not how the game works. You have to say something you haven't done."

"I haven't!" Mary responded. Then she paused. "Oh wait, yeah I definitely have."

Everyone chuckled as she took a drink.

"Alright! Dorcas! Your turn." Mary nudged the girl in the side.

Dorcas rolled her eyes. "For the record, I just want to say, I think this game is stupid."

"Come on babe. Don't be a party pooper!" Marlene exclaimed, leaning in towards her girlfriend. "How else are we supposed to learn everyone's deepest darkest secrets."

Dorcas sighed and shook her head but there was a hint of a smile on her face. She really could never say no to Marlene.

"Ugh, fine. Never have I ever stolen something."

"Well that's a hard one," Mary muttered. "What do we count as stealing? Because I've stolen stuff from James a ton of times."

"Oi!" James shouted, looking positively affronted. Mary sent him an apologetic smile.

"No, not like that," Dorcas clarified. "It had to have been from an actual shop."

You all sat up straight for a moment, curiously looking around the group to see if anyone had. Hesitantly, Peter lifted his glass to his lips.

"Pete! What the hell!" James exclaimed.

"I don't know, I went through a phase in highschool!"

"What sort of stuff did you take?" Marlene pressed.

Peter shrugged. "Chocolate and ciggarettes, mostly."

There was an eruption of laughter that rippled across the table at Peter's revelation.

"Wow, I didn't know there was a degenerate among us," Lily teased, watching Peter's face flush bright red.

"Okay, okay. My turn!" Marlene said, once the laughter died down. "Never have I ever... gotten really sloshed and fallen down the stairs at my 18th birthday party"

"Hey! That's not fair!" James moaned, taking a sip of his beer. "You can't do targeted ones!"

Marlene just shrugged. "Sorry, but I don't think that was established in the rules."

James smirked. "Fine then! Never have I ever had sex with someone at this table."

Your blood ran cold for a moment as you glanced back towards the bar. You sighed in relief when you saw that Sirius was still over there. In that case, you technically hadn't slept with anyone at the table. You were off the hook for now.

Marlene rolled her eyes at James and took a drink, as well as Dorcas, Peter and Sybil, however, you watched James' eyes widen as Mary also took a long sip.

"Mary!" Lily hissed across the table. Your heart plummeted.

"What?" Mary shrugged, the alcohol clearly having gone to her head. "We have to! It's the rules."

"Wait! Hold on," Marlene murmered, her eyes drifting between the two girls. "Did you guys..."

There was a heavy anticipatory silence that hung over the table as you all awaited Lily's response. The girl grimaced, as she tried to muster some kind of explanation.

It was then that her eyes drifted up to meet James' pleading ones.

"Lily?" the boy asked softly. Your heart broke for him.

"So I guess the cat's out of the bag huh?" the girl sighed. "Mary and I have sort of been seeing each other. Romantically."

"Holy shit!" Marlene shouted, candid and straight to the point as she usually was in these situations.

"How long has this been going on?" Dorcas questioned.

"It's still really new," Lily explained.

"We were just trying to figure out the right time to tell you guys," Mary added.

"So you're the one Mary has been seeing?" James murmered.

"Yes," Lily responded. "I'm sorry James but you had to know it was never going to work out between us."

The boy sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls. "Yeah, I know."

Then he started to stand. "I think I just need some air for a minute."

"James, wait-" Remus reached out to grab his arm but James shook him off.

"I just need minute," he repeated, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and hurrying towards the exit. Part of you wanted to go after him but the other part recognised that he probably needed some space to process things.

"Sorry, everyone. I didn't mean to ruin the night," Mary murmered folornly.

"No hun! you didn't ruin anything," you comforted.

"Yeah, we're really happy for you two," Dorcas added.

"Really?"

Everyone nodded.

"Absolutely. You both deserve to be happy," Remus confirmed.

Wide smiles crossed over the girls' faces.

It was two minutes until midnight and Sirius was nowhere to be seen. Despite your better judgement, you couldn't help but feel slightly disapointed. You supposed that there was some small aspect of your mind that hoped Sirius would be your New Years kiss.

You knew it was wishful thinking, especially when you hadn't even spoken about what happened between you, but with how he'd been acting towards you throughout the night, you'd allowed yourself to nurture that flicker of hope.

As people crowded around the window and the countdown began, you found your eyes searching the room for the dark haired man, wondering if just maybe, he'd make a last minute appearance.

"Five, four, three, two..."

You scanned the space one last time.

"One!"

You're last flicker of hope died out as your eyes finally landed on his form.

"Happy New Year!"

The shouts and cheers faded into the background as you watched Sirius press his lips to those of the boob-y blonde you'd seen him flirting with before.

The moment seemed to go in slow motion. You watched from afar as he tangled his hand in her hair, just as he'd done in yours only a week prior.

"Of course," you thought. "Typical"

It was Sirius Black you were talking about. You were stupid to think you meant anything more to him than a casual night of fun.

In an instant, you turned on your heel and walked towards the door, the sounds of the party fading into the background. You decided, instead of bumming around waiting for Sirius to notice you, you'd go look for James, just as you should've done much earlier.

The cold hit you like a block of cement as you stepped outside onto the street. It didn't take you long to find him.

He was sitting on the curb, outside of he bar, arms resting on his knees as he looked up towards the sky. Another explosion sounded and a flash of colour filled the air. In the distance, you could hear the cheers of excited people all around as they celebrated.

"Happy New Year, James."

He turned to look at you and in the flash of light, as another firework flickered across the sky, you were able to notice the faint tear tracks that lined his cheeks.

"Oh hey." he sniffled, rubbing a hand beneath his glasses and trying to regain a semblance of composure.

BANG!

You flopped unceremoniously onto the ground beside him as another flash filled the sky. You gave him a sympathetic smile. Funnily enough, in that moment, you knew exactly how he felt.

"Are you okay?" You asked him gently.

He let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah. I will be."

BANG!

"Good."

You both turned your gazes back to the display, taking in the beautiful array of colours filling the air. It wasn't quite the view you'd expected for the night, but somehow, that didn't seem to matter.

As you continued to watch the fireworks, you felt the gentle touch of a hand wrapping around your own. You smiled slightly as your fingers intertwined.

BANG!

Slowly, you shuffled closer and leaned into him, gently resting your head on James broad shoulder.

You stayed like that a while, just taking in the show, and each other's company.

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy @navs-bhat @shushbruv @magicwithaknife @eeviee4 @notapoetjustscar @gugggu6gvai @robertsmithclone @ilovesugurugeto69 @taytayy178 @its-notkiee @bugworldsworld @switchingfandomslikecrazy @evangelquill, @delusional-4-fake-people, @ch4rlotte35, @insideoutjulie, @hiireadstuff, @laniirackssss, @starrystormwritings, @strategicsweetheart, @1800brat, @sammyreid, @frootloops1213, @ill-be-okay-soon-enough

#marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #marauders au

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mcrdvcks · 2 months ago

Text

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 2003 - i can see us lost in the memory

chapter summary: After searching for answers about his past, Logan comes back to the mansion after finding nothing at Alkali Lake. When he comes back he sees you, the only thing he can remember.

word count: 6.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i skipped x1 (mostly because i felt like i couldn't place reader into the story and have her actually make a change in it) so we're starting with x2! don't worry, next chapter is going to make you sick with tooth rotting fluff

(also thank you for 700 followers!! and happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate! <3)

warnings/tags: follows events of x2 (strays slightly), reader is a mutant with time manipulation powers, reader wears glasses, shy!reader, light violence

series masterlist - chapter 6 → chapter 8, chapter 8.5

Alkali Lake held nothing. No clues, no leads, nothing. And because of that he’s still drifting, unable to remember anything but you.

He’s not sure when the last time he saw you was, he can only remember that he’s had you 5 times and lost you 5 times.

But now… now he has nothing but fragments, barely more than dreams, and a dull ache he can’t ignore, even if he can no longer remember the details. He knows you were there, remembers the way your touch soothed him, the warmth of your voice—and each time he replays those memories, he feels something deeper, sharper, tugging at the places in him that will never mend.

---

Logan opened the doors to the mansion, Rogue walking towards him. “Logan!” She went up to hug him before quickly pulling back.

“You miss me, kid?”

“Not really.” She shook her head sarcastically.

“Hmm. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“Who’s this?” Logan gestured with his head behind Rogue.

Rogue turned around, “oh, this is Bobby. He’s my- ”

“I’m her boyfriend.” Bobby cut in, shaking Logan’s hand using his ice powers, “call me Ice Man.”

Logan pulled away with a slight scowl, “right. Boyfriend? So how do you guys…?”

Bobby and Rogue shared a look, “well, we’re still working on that.” He said.

“Look who’s come back. Just in time.” Ororo spoke, as she walked down the stairs.

“For what?” Logan questioned.

“We need another babysitter.”

“Babysitter?”

“Nice to see you again, Logan.” Ororo said kindly.

“Hi, Logan.” Jean spoke, announcing herself as she walked down the stairs.

Logan briefly looked her way, “Jean.”

“Uh, I should go and get the jet ready.” Ororo said quietly.

“Yeah, well, it was good to meet you.” Bobby grabbed Rogue’s hand, “come on, let’s go.”

“Bye, Logan. I’ll see- I’ll see you later!” Rogue called out.

Jean walked in front of Logan, “Storm and I are heading to Boston. We won’t be gone long. The professor wants us to track down a mutant who attacked the president.”

“So it was a mutant.” Logan responded.

“You’ll be here when we get back- unless you plan on running off again.”

Logan tilted his head slightly. “Oh, I could—” His words trailed off as he caught sight of you. The stack of papers in your hands wobbled as you came down the stairs, muttering under your breath. He watched you, the tilt of your head as you pushed your glasses back up, the way you carefully balanced the papers in your hands.

You. He knew you. He knew that face, that presence. It hit him like a punch to the gut, an undeniable recognition buried beneath layers of fractured memories. You were the only thing that came back to him clearly in all the chaos. The short-lived lives you had, and every time it ended up with you dead in his arms.

He blinked, processing, as if you’d vanish if he looked away. You glanced up, catching his stare, and you stopped mid-step, eyes widening a little.

“Oh, uh… hi,” you said, awkwardly adjusting your glasses.

“Hi,” he echoed, still staring, as if searching for something familiar in the way you moved.

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, then tried a smile. “You’re… Logan, right?”

He swallowed, feeling something catch in his throat. “Yeah. Logan.”

Breaking the tension, Scott walked down the stairs, “find what you were looking for, Logan?”

Logan barely acknowledged Scott’s words, his gaze fixed on you. The room, the people around him, the mansion itself—they all blurred, faded, became nothing more than static in the background. He knew you. The only thing he remembered clearly, despite all the fog in his mind, was you.

The stack of papers shifted in your hands as you glanced between him and Scott, your unease clear. It was like you sensed something, too, even if you couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Uh, no, not exactly,” Logan finally replied, his voice gruff, his eyes still on you. “Thought I’d… found something. Guess not.”

Scott didn’t seem too interested in probing. “Well, welcome back. Make yourself at home.”

But Logan barely heard him. He watched as you attempted a shy smile, not quite meeting his eyes. “I… I should go.” You hesitated, lifting the papers as if they’d shield you. “It was nice meeting you, Logan.”

He nodded, his throat dry. “Same.”

You hurried past, your steps soft but quick, almost like you were escaping.

Scott raised an eyebrow at Logan, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t know you were one for the shy ones.”

Logan shot him a look that could’ve split wood, but Scott just shrugged and walked off, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts.

For a moment, Logan debated following you. He’d known you before; he was sure of it. And even if he couldn’t recall the exact details, there was no mistaking the pull he felt, the way his chest tightened just being in your presence. He couldn’t remember much, barely fragments, yet you were a constant. And every time, he’d lost you. Every damn time.

---

After double checking that everyone was out of their rooms, whether taken or already escaped, you made your way to the secret tunnel, hitting the paneled wall as it opened.

You saw Rogue, Bobby, John, and Logan running down the hall. “Go on,” you said, letting the kids go through before you did. You noticed no one behind you as the door slid down, closing.

“Logan!” Rogue called out.

Bobby and John had already started to run down the tunnel while you stayed by the wall, ear pressed against it trying to hear what was happening.

Rogue stayed by you, clearly worried about Logan. You opened the door quietly as Bobby and John came back. It was quiet in the hall, Logan was walking slowly toward the older man as your eyes briefly fluttered shut, pausing the intruders in time.

“Logan, come on. Let’s go.” Rogue yelled out.

“Logan,” you said gently, as he finally turned his head towards the group.

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

“But we won’t.” Rogue responded.

Logan contemplated for a few moments before walking towards you, “go. Keep going.” Logan entered the tunnel as the door closed behind him while you un-paused the men in the hall.

The five of you ran down the tunnel before climbing up a ladder to the garage. “Come on, get in. Get in!” Logan said.

You went to open the passenger door to the back when a large, warm hand landed on your waist, the grip warm and familiar even though you knew you'd never been this close to him before. Your breath hitched, and you glanced over your shoulder, only to meet his intense gaze as he gently nudged you toward the front seat. His hand lingered a second longer than it needed to, his touch almost hesitant, as if he was committing the feel of you to memory.

“Front seat, Y/N,” he murmured.

“R-Right. Thanks,” you stammered, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks as you slid into the passenger seat. He followed, taking his place behind the wheel, while Rogue, Bobby, and John piled into the back.

“This is Cyclops’s car.” Bobby said.

“Oh, yeah?” Logan unsheathed a singular claw, stabbing it into the ignition and turning on the car. The garage doors opened as the car sped out.

“What the hell was that back there?” John finally asked.

“Stryker.” Logan answered. “His name is Stryker.”

“Who is he?” Rogue questioned.

“I can’t remember.” Logan said quietly.

Rogue, after a few moments of silence, took off the dog tags around her wrist, passing them to Logan in the front, “here. This is yours.”

Even though you couldn’t see the kids in the back, you could tell they were uncomfortable with the silence. John leaned forward, “I don’t like uncomfortable silences.”

“What are you doing?” Rogue asked from beside him.

John turned on the radio as music played loudly from the car’s stereo’s, “bye, bye, bye…” Everyone groaned at the loud intrusion as John promptly turned it back off.

But, a small compartment opened, revealing a sleek metal device. “I don’t think that’s the CD player.” John said.

Logan grabbed it, twisting it in his hands. It blipped once, “whoa,” he muttered. Logan looked at John momentarily, “sit back.”

“Where we going?” John asked.

“Storm and Jean are in Boston. We’ll head that way.” Logan answered.

Bobby looked off to the side, “my parents live in Boston.”

“Good.” Logan said.

---

It was morning when you arrived at Bobby’s parents’ house. He unlocked the front door and stepped inside, “mom! Dad! Ronny! Is anybody home?” No one responded, the house was empty. Bobby looked at Rogue, “I’ll try and find you some clothes.” Bobby then looked over at John, who was continuously flicking his lighter open, “don’t burn anything.”

Logan was in the kitchen, trying to get the phone, or comm device he wasn’t sure, to work. He put it to his ear, “hello?” Static crackled over the device, “hello?” Logan asked again. “Come on, Jean. Where are you?”

You had just freshened up a bit when the door opened, Bobby’s family entering the house, looking at Logan in the kitchen with an open beer bottle.

“Hey, Ronny, next time you…” Bobby’s father started, but stopped when he saw Logan. “Who the hell are you?”

“Uh…” Logan pointed at the stairs as Bobby ran down them.

“Bobby…?”

��Honey, aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Bobby’s mother asked. Rogue quietly walked down the stairs.

“Bobby, who is this guy?”

“Uh… this is Professor Logan.” Bobby paused before speaking again, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Soon, you all ended up in the living area, the kids and Bobby’s parents sitting down on the couch with you and Logan standing in the doorway.

“So, uh, when did you first know you were a… a…” Bobby’s mother trailed off.

“A mutant?” John spoke up, still flicking his lighter open and closed.

“Would you cut that out?” she said.

“You have to understand, we thought Bobby was going to a school for the gifted.” his father spoke.

“Bobby is gifted.” Rogue cut in.

“We know that. We just didn’t realize…”

His mother cut off her husband, “we still love you, Bobby. It’s just… this mutant problem is a little…”

��What mutant problem?” Logan interrupted, leaning against the other side of the doorway as you with his arms crossed.

“…complicated.” she finished.

Bobby’s father spoke again, “what exactly are you a professor of Mr. Logan?”

“Art.”

“Well, you should see what Bobby can do.” Rogue said.

Bobby leaned forward, gently touching his mother’s teacup with one finger as the tea turned to ice.

“Bobby…” his mother trailed off. She flipped the teacup on its side as the ice slid to the plate.

“I can do a lot more than that.”

His mother shakily put the plate and teacup on the glass table as the cat jumped up and started to lick the ice. Bobby’s brother Ronny left the room with a quiet anger.

“Ronny?” His mother called out as he went up the stairs. “This is all my fault.”

John spoke up, “actually, they discovered that males are the ones who carry the mutant gene and pass it on, so it’s his fault.”

A few moments later, the comm device started to beep. “Oh, God…” Logan took the device out of his pocket and started to walk to the sliding door, “it’s for me.”

“Bobby… have you tried… not being a mutant?” His mother asked.

Logan came back inside and locked the sliding door, “we have to go now. Now!”

“Why?” Rogue questioned. “Logan, what’s wrong?”

He walked to the front door, claws extended and you and the kids following to come face to face with police officers on the front lawn, point guns at you.

“Drop the knives and put your hands in the air.” An officer ordered from their right.

“What’s going on here?” Logan muttered.

“Ronny.” Bobby answered, coming to the realization.

“I said, drop the knives!” The officer ordered again.

Glass shattered from inside the house, “turn around! Up against the wall! Up against the wall!” An officer ordered Bobby’s parents, still in the living area.

“This is just a misunderstanding.” Logan said.

“Put the knives down!”

Logan turned to look at the officer, “I can’t. Look,” he raised his arm slowly as the officer fired a shot, straight into Logan’s forehead.

Rogue screamed and you gasped as Logan hit the patio floor.

“All right, the rest of you- on the ground now!” The same officer ordered.

You, Bobby, and Rogue slowly sank to the ground, but John stayed standing.

“Look, kid, I said on the ground!”

“We don’t want to hurt you, kid.” The officer on the other side said.

“You know all those dangerous mutants you hear about on the news?” John flicked open his lighter as you murmured his name, “I’m the worst one.” He blasted fire at the officer who shot Logan, sending him off the patio. He turned and did the same to the woman on the other side, then inside the house at the two officers.

John turned forward, blasting fire at the officers on the front lawn, the car exploding, before doing the same to another police car. A siren sounded down the street, coming to the house, as John blasted another stationary car by the front lawn, throwing the moving car off track. He blasted that car too.

Rogue, on the ground in front of you, took off her white glove and grabbed John’s ankle. The fire in his hands died off as Rogue stopped the fires surrounding the police cars and lawn.

The bullet popped out of Logan’s head as he woke up, the Blackbird slowly landing in the street. Logan stood up, cracking his neck. Bobby and the kids rushed off the stairs first, heading to the jet.

Logan instinctively put a hand on the small of your back, not pushing you or guiding you just… resting there. You took a quick glance up at him before reverting your gaze back to what was ahead of you.

John was the first one to walk up the ramp, and the first one to see Kurt turn in his chair. “Guten tag.” Kurt greeted.

The rest of you got onto the jet, buckling in, “who the hell is this?” Logan asked.

“Kurt Wagner. But in the Munich circus, I was known as the Incredible Nightcrawler.”

“As, save it. Storm?”

“We’re out of here.” The engines powered up as the ship jerked slightly while taking off.

---

“How far are we?” Logan asked, walking up behind Jean’s chair.

“We’re actually coming up on the mansion now.” Jean replied, as the console started to beep.

“I’ve got two signals approaching.” Ororo said, “coming in fast.”

“Unidentified aircraft, you are ordered to descend to 20,000 feet. Return with our escort to Hanscom Air Force Base. You have ten seconds to comply.”

“Wow, somebody’s angry.” Ororo commented.

Logan looked back at John, “I wonder why.”

“We are coming up alongside you to escort you to Hanscom Air Force Base. Lower your altitude now.” The two planes come up on both sides of the jet, “repeat-lower your altitude to 20,000 feet. This is your last warning.”

The planes started to fly behind, “they’re falling back.” Ororo spoke. Rapid beeping sounded out from the console. “They’re marking us.”

“What?” Logan asked.

“They’re going to fire! Hang on!” Ororo started to fly the jet in a defensive position as they buckled into their seats. “I got to shake them.”

The jet briefly flew upside down then righted itself, “please don’t do that again.” John said.

“I agree.” Logan remarked. “Don’t we have any weapons in this heap?”

The sky started to darken as dark clouds formed, quickly turning into tornadoes. The jet started to shake from the heavy winds as Ororo tried getting the two planes off their tails.

Once their radar was clear, Ororo stopped, the sky brightening back to its natural state.

“Everybody okay back there?” Jean questioned.

“No,” Logan answered simply.

Rapid beeping sounded out from the console once again, “oh, my God, there’s two of them,” Ororo said. Jean used her powers and took out one of the missiles, “there’s one more.” The remaining missile continued flying closer to them, “Jean?”

Jean gasped, “oh, God!” At the last second, Jean directed the missile slightly up, causing the back end of the jet to blow open.

Rogue, who wasn’t buckled in, flew out the back as Bobby yelled for her. Kurt briefly looked back before disappearing and then reappearing in the jet, right by the pilot’s seat next to Ororo and Jean as the jet nosedived.

The panels in the ship began to crackle as metal creaked and the back of the jet repaired itself. “Jean?” Ororo asked.

“It’s not me.” Jean answered, as the jet suddenly stopped, hovering over an older man and woman you didn’t recognize.

---

You had your head and arms buried deep into the jet's console, a strand of hair falling in front of your face as you tried to twist one more wire into place. The tech was scrambled from the missile hit, panels still flickering with bursts of static, and while it wasn’t exactly in your wheelhouse, you knew enough to give it a try. Besides, it kept your hands busy while the rest of the team talked to Erik around the fire and the kids set up tents.

After some time, you walked down the stairs of the jet, mostly for a small break from the incessant lighting and saw Logan smoking a cigar by the ramp. You almost turned around and walked back up, until he turned to look at you, more than halfway down the stairs.

You gulped and played with the tool in your hands as Logan looked at his cigar briefly, noticing the smoke was frozen in the air. He turned his gaze to the trees nearby also taking note that they were frozen as well; no wind blowing through their leaves.

“Ya always freeze time when you get nervous?” Logan tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you, trapped in your own nervous suspension of time. You gave a tight, embarrassed smile, the tool in your hands twisting around your fingers as you took a deep breath and forced yourself to let go of the freeze.

“No. Only sometimes,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat. The trees resumed their gentle sway, and the smoke from his cigar curled upward lazily again. Logan watched the subtle shift, something almost playful glinting in his gaze.

He took another drag of his cigar, eyes not leaving you. “So, what’s got you nervous?”

Your fingers fumbled with the tool. “It’s, um… I don’t usually come across people who…” You trailed off, looking down at your hands.

Truth was, he made you nervous. Why wouldn’t he? He was… a lot of things, and in the few days you have known him you couldn’t help but feel more reserved than usual.

Logan leaned back against the ramp, watching you with a calm expression, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Care to be more specific?” He seemed content to let you fumble, patient in a way that only made your pulse quicken more.

You shrugged, pretending to focus on the tool in your hands. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the… whole mysterious, intense thing you’ve got going. That, and the fact that I accidentally freeze time whenever you look at me like that.”

He raised an eyebrow, letting out a low chuckle. “Like what?”

“Like…” You trailed off, finally looking up at him. “Like you’re trying to figure something out, but I’m not sure I want to know what.”

“Maybe I am,” Logan said, taking a drag of his cigar. His eyes softened a bit, and you felt a warmth settle over you. He didn’t push, didn’t pry—just waited. After all, patience was one of the many things he’d perfected over the years.

You shifted on your feet, glancing down to where your fingers had turned the wrench over and over, antsy. “Maybe I just don’t know what to make of you,” you murmured, feeling the weight of his gaze again.

“Guess that makes two of us,” he replied, his voice low. There was something unspoken in his words, something you couldn’t quite name.

The silence stretched out, and then, because there was something about the way he looked at you that felt like an invitation, you spoke. “Why’d you come out here, anyway? I thought you were all about avoiding everyone else.”

Logan flicked some ash off the end of his cigar. “Maybe I was gettin’ tired of avoidin’ things.” He paused, looking out toward the treeline, then back at you. “Or maybe I just wanted to see if you’d freeze time again.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Not exactly something I can control.”

“Good to know,” Logan replied, smirking. He took another puff, the smoke curling up in wisps around him. “So, are you fixin’ that thing, or just givin’ it the ol’ college try?”

You looked back at the jet, the half-repaired panel flickering with static. “Oh, definitely just winging it.”

Logan chuckled, the sound rich and deep, and for a moment, the tension seemed to ease. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a ‘wing it’ type.”

You shrugged, biting back a smirk. “I’m full of surprises.”

The easy conversation brought a hint of a grin to his face, something warm and fleeting, and he tilted his head toward the jet. “C’mon, let’s see what else you can do, winging it.” He raised an eyebrow, as if challenging you.

You looked at him, then back at the jet, a bit of excitement tingling under your skin. “Alright, Logan. Let’s see what we can fix.”

---

“Stay with the kids.” Jean said. You opened your mouth to argue, you weren’t a child, yet it seemed like every mission you were treated like one. Never allowed on the field, never even brought in on a debriefing.

The rest of the group, other than Mystique who was already in the base, were outside the jet, making their way into Alkali Base. You were supposed to stay behind with Rogue, Bobby, and John.

“But, Jean—” you started, voice catching on the frustrated protest that lingered in your chest.

Jean turned, a hand on her hip and an exasperated look that was all too familiar. “We’ve talked about this, Y/N. You’re here to look after them.”

“Right,” you muttered, crossing your arms, your gaze falling on the others, who were half paying attention, half pretending not to notice. Rogue’s worried glance lingered on you; Bobby looked between you and the hallway where the rest of the team had disappeared.

Jean’s expression softened just slightly. “This isn’t a punishment, okay? The kids need someone they trust to keep them safe.”

You glanced at Logan, who gave you a slight nod, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “Fine,” you mumbled, “I’ll stay with them.”

Jean pressed a reassuring hand to your shoulder. “We’ll be back soon.” She turned to catch up with the others, her footsteps echoing as they faded into the depths of the base.

Logan lingered for a moment, gaze unwavering. He looked at you for a beat too long, and something tightened in his expression. He gave a faint nod before heading off.

As the rest of the team disappeared down the corridor, John grinned, clearly amused by your frustration. "Looks like you got a babysitting gig, huh?"

You shot him a withering look, but Rogue was quick to jump in. "It's not like that, John."

“Could be worse,” Bobby added, trying to lighten the mood, “at least we’re safe here.”

You leaned against the cold metal wall, fingers tapping the console out of habit. “Yeah,” you replied, though your voice held none of the certainty you tried to convey.

From the depths of the corridor, Logan’s scent still lingered faintly in the air. You felt the tug of something unexplainable—a pull toward him that you’d noticed ever since he first set foot in the mansion. It was like trying to remember something you knew you’d forgotten.

Your hand, almost of its own accord, clenched into a fist, feeling the temptation to slow time, to buy a few seconds to gather your thoughts and process what lingered between you and Logan. But with Rogue, Bobby, and John right there, you resisted, focusing on keeping things steady.

And, yet, as you listened to the faint sounds echoing down the hall, a deep sense of restlessness settled in your chest.

---

“She’s controlling the jet!” Storm said, as the jet started to lightly shake.

“You, get her, now!” Logan told Kurt.

Kurt briefly phased, “she’s not letting me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Charles spoke. “This is the only way.”

Scott leaned down next to Charles seat, “Jean? Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Good-bye.”

The jet started to hover above the water as a bright light shone briefly from the water before disappearing as quickly as it came.

“She’s gone,” Ororo said quietly.

The vision broke your focus as you flew the jet, the emergency landing protocol activated as it landed harshly, Rogue and Bobby standing in the cockpit by your seat.

A whoosh made you turn to the side to see Kurt putting Charles down in a seat. Kids started to climb up the stairs into the ramp as Ororo came by your side, “I got this, Y/N,” she said gently.

You let out a few more heavy breaths before standing up from the pilot’s seat, letting Ororo take your place.

As Scott fiddled with some of the controls, Charles spoke up, “Scott, we’ve got to get to Washington. I fear this has gone beyond Alkali Lake.”

Logan finally climbed up the stairs, a young boy in his arms, “Bobby.”

“Hey, I got him,” Bobby replied, carefully taking the boy from Logan’s arms.

Logan watched for a moment as Bobby wrapped an arm around the kid, murmuring something reassuring to him. When the boy seemed to relax, Logan shifted his gaze to you, lingering just a beat too long, that same unreadable look in his eyes.

The jet was buzzing with energy as everyone settled in, but his eyes never left yours. You felt it, that weight, the unspoken thing hanging between you both ever since you met. The others didn’t seem to notice—Bobby was focused on the kid, Rogue was buckling in, and Ororo and Scott were adjusting settings on the console. But Logan, he was watching you, something intense simmering beneath his stoic expression.

You tried to brush it off, focusing on the quiet hum of the jet as it prepared for takeoff. But that pull was there, like something forgotten tugging at your memory, or maybe… not forgotten, exactly. Maybe something you’d never known.

Finally, unable to help yourself, you looked back at him. “What?” you asked softly, half a smile on your lips to cover the nervous energy prickling at the base of your spine.

Logan didn’t smile back. “Nothing,” he replied, voice rough. But his gaze softened, just barely, and there was a glimmer of something warm. “Just making sure you’re alright.”

His words were casual, but you caught the faintest edge of something… familiar. Like a memory you couldn’t quite touch. You felt your fingers twitch, the familiar itch to pull time in around you, but you held back.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your hair behind your ear as you tried to shake off the strange feeling. “Thanks for asking.”

Logan nodded, but his gaze didn’t waver. He watched you for a beat longer, almost as if he were searching for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t find it—or maybe he did but decided not to say. Instead, he moved forward to Ororo, where her and Scott were trying to power the engines.

“What’s wrong?” Logan questioned.

“Vertical thrusters are offline.” Scott answered.

“So fix ’em.”

“I’m trying.”

“Hey, has anyone seen John?” Rogue called out.

“Pyro?” Logan asked. “Where the hell is he?”

“He’s with Magneto.” Jean replied.

“…but I don’t know how long they’re going to last.”

“I’m trying to override, but it’s not responding.” Scott grunted, “come on!”

“Oh, no, we’ve lost the power.” Ororo said.

“It’s coming. Come on!”

“There’s power in the fuel cells. They’re just not connected.”

“Okay, I’ll try to reroute it this way.” Ororo continued, but your gaze was focused on Jean, who was looking at the ramp of the jet. “Scott, the engine control system is shot.”

“Which part?”

“All of it!”

“Can’t you override?”

“Yes. It’s going to take some time.”

“Jean,” you whispered under your breath, too scared to act, fearing what would happen if you intervened. Instead, you watched as she walked down the ramp of the jet, glancing at the group one last time.

Charles tilted his head slightly to the side, “Jean?”

“Wait, where’s Jean?” Logan asked.

“She’s outside.” Charles said.

Scott bolted up from his seat to the ramp, but it closed as he got there, separating Jean from the rest of them. The consoles lit up as the engines came back online.

“No! We’re not leaving! Lower the ramp! Storm, lower it!” Scott yelled.

“I can’t!” She replied.

The water finally washed over to them, but because of Jean and her telekinesis it went around her.

“She’s controlling the jet!” Storm said, as the jet started to lightly shake.

“You, get her, now!” Logan told Kurt.

Kurt briefly phased, “she’s not letting me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Charles spoke. “This is the only way.”

Scott leaned down next to Charles seat, “Jean? Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Good-bye.”

The jet started to hover above the water as a bright light shone briefly-

“-power in the fuel cells. They’re just not connected.”

“Okay, I’ll try to reroute it this way.” Ororo continued, but your gaze was focused on Jean, who was looking at the ramp of the jet. “Scott, the engine control system is shot.”

“Which part?”

“All of it!”

“Can’t you override?”

“Yes. It’s going to take some time.”

As Jean walked toward the ramp, you reached out and grabbed her forearm, halting her determined steps. Her head turned, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, her eyes softened. There was a weariness, a resignation in her look that you couldn’t ignore.

“Jean,” you whispered, tightening your grip. “There has to be another way.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away, staring into the distance. The ramp was only steps away, but she hadn’t pulled her arm free. “It’s the only way to save everyone,” she said, her voice barely audible, as if speaking louder would shatter whatever resolve she had left.

“I’m not gonna let you die,” you spoke quietly.

Jean tilted her head, looking at the cockpit one more time before back at you, “you rewound. Didn’t you?” She hadn’t tried to pull away, and you could feel the rapid beat of her pulse through your grip on her arm. She knew. Somehow, she’d pieced it together—how you’d rewound, maybe even more than once.

“Yes,” you replied softly, your voice barely audible over the hum of the jet, “but this time—”

“This time won’t be any different,” Jean cut in, a trace of regret in her tone. “Some things… you can’t just rewind.”

You tightened your grip, not willing to let go. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe it has to end like this.”

Her gaze softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes that you couldn’t bear. “You have to let me go, Y/N. You can’t keep holding on to something that’s already gone.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “We’re a team, Jean. You can power on the jet, and I can pause the water.”

She looked away, clearly weighing every word you said against her own grim resolve, then back at you with a look of resigned understanding. "You don’t understand, Y/N. This—" she gestured to the waters crashing around them, then down to her own chest, her hand resting over her heart—"what’s happening to me... it’s too much. It’s a flood I can’t hold back.”

You could feel her pulse, still wild beneath your hand, and the memory of her last words echoed in your mind. "You have to let me go, Y/N. You can’t keep holding on to something that’s already gone.”

But she wasn’t gone, not yet, and the desperation that rose inside you felt like a fight against fate itself. “Jean, I’ve seen things go wrong before.” The words slipped out, the ghost of a memory that you couldn’t quite catch. “But I can feel it this time… we don’t have to lose you. Just trust me.”

For a moment, Jean’s gaze softened, and her grip on her resolve wavered. “Y/N…” she started, and you caught a glimmer of something in her eyes—gratitude, or maybe even hope. Her hand rested lightly over yours, though you could feel her power humming beneath her skin. “Alright,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible. “But if something goes wrong… if it’s too much…”

You cut her off, squeezing her hand tighter. “Then we find another way. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

With a quick nod from Jean, you focused your energy, feeling time ripple and bend beneath your skin. Jean closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she took in the extra moments you’d gifted her, enough to gather her power without tearing herself apart in the process.

Outside the jet, the water slowed, hovering just a few inches away from the plane, frozen in time. Everyone held their breath, the hum of the jet's engines amplified in the stillness. Scott turned back to the controls, guiding the jet forward through the suspended water. “It’s working,” he murmured, almost to himself. "We’re moving.”

In the cockpit, you felt your pulse race as you held the time bubble steady, feeling the strain build in your bones. This level of control was more intense than anything you’d managed before, but you pushed yourself to hold on, the determination to keep Jean and everyone safe steeling your resolve.

The jet jolted slightly as it broke through the edge of the water and rose higher, out of immediate danger. But the strain was starting to build, the sheer amount of energy it took to hold everything at bay beginning to wear on you. Your hand slipped, and you nearly stumbled, but before you could lose your focus entirely, a strong hand caught your arm.

Logan was at your side, his face mere inches from yours, concern laced in his voice. “You good?” he asked, his grip grounding you.

“Yeah… just give me a sec.” You took a breath, focusing on the feel of his hand, the warmth in his touch that felt familiar in a way you couldn’t explain. With that small, grounding connection, you found the strength to hold the time bubble for a few seconds more.

When the jet was finally clear, you released the grip on time, and the rush of water resumed its course beneath them. You staggered slightly, feeling a rush of exhaustion course through you, but Logan’s arm was still steady around you, even as you fell to the ground, your eyes fluttering shut.

Logan’s grip tightened as you slumped back, your breath shuddering as exhaustion swept over you. His hand was warm, rough fingers gently brushing against your cheek, bringing you back just enough to the moment. Your back was draped over his knees, your pulse still racing as you struggled to catch your breath. The world was a muted blur, but his voice broke through, steady and low, anchoring you.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow circle on your cheek. “You’re alright. I got you.”

It was only his words, and the softness in them, that made you blink back the haze of exhaustion. As your vision cleared, you saw his face just inches from yours, an intensity in his gaze that seemed to search for something… something deeper than he was saying.

“Logan,” you whispered, not sure why his name slipped out so easily or why it felt so familiar, as if you’d said it before, in another life or another time. But the look he gave you held a weight you couldn’t name, a history you couldn’t remember.

“You with me?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper, but beneath it, there was something else, something almost pleading. He waited as you blinked up at him, your pulse slowly settling, tethered by his touch. “Y/N?”

“Yeah…” You tried to push yourself up, but the strain of holding time around the jet had left your muscles aching, feeling drained in a way you’d never experienced before. Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightened, steadying you, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, feeling his warmth.

His face softened, a flicker of relief crossing his expression, though he didn’t let go. “You pulled us out of that mess,” he said, his voice low, and for a second, something raw flickered in his eyes. “What were you thinking? Freezing the water like that—it could’ve knocked you out cold.”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t just watch Jean go.” You inhaled deeply, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced toward the cockpit, where Jean’s quiet breathing filled the jet with a fragile peace. “I couldn’t let her do it alone.”

Logan gave a slow nod, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. You felt the intensity of his gaze, as if he was seeing something beyond what you could understand. There was a warmth to it, one that made your heart stutter, something deep and unexplainably familiar. He paused, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. “You’ve always been this way… haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, thrown by the hint of something personal, something he couldn’t quite put into words. He dropped his hand from your face, settling it on your shoulder, but you could still feel the warmth lingering where he’d touched you.

“Never mind.” He looked away, his expression unreadable. But his hand remained steady on your shoulder, grounding you as the jet finally stabilized, the engines humming to life. You could hear the others bustling around, but for this moment, it was just the two of you, a silent understanding hovering between you.

“Logan…?” you started, not sure what you wanted to say or why his presence felt so deeply familiar. He turned back, a question in his eyes, as if he were waiting for something. But the words wouldn’t come. How could you ask him about a feeling you didn’t understand? About a memory that didn’t exist?

Instead, you exhaled, letting the silence fill the space between you. “Thank you.”

He watched you, his gaze lingering on your face, as if there were a thousand things he wanted to say. But he only nodded, a soft look crossing his face, one that felt almost like longing.

“Anytime,” he murmured, his hand finally slipping away, leaving a chill in its place.

“Y/N, you good back there?” Ororo’s voice broke the spell, and you managed a nod, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Yeah. Just… catching my breath.” You gave her a small smile, forcing your muscles to relax, even as your heart was still pounding. Logan stood, his gaze lingering on you for a beat before he moved to check on the others. But before he left, he looked back at you, his eyes holding a silent promise, a feeling that maybe—just maybe—he was still there, still watching over you.

---

A storm crackled outside thanks to Ororo and everyone around the group was frozen in time courtesy of you.

“Good morning, Mr. President.” Charles said. The President looked over to the side where Kurt was crouched on a small table. He began to stand up slowly, “please, don’t be alarmed. We’re not going to harm anyone.”

“Who are you people?”

“We’re mutants. My name is Charles Xavier. Please, sit down.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Rogue.” Charles briefly glanced over at her, as she placed a large file onto the President’s desk. “These files were taken from the private offices of William Stryker.”

The President started to flip through the file, “how did you get this?”

“Well, let’s just say I know a little girl who can walk through walls.” Charles said, as the President looked over at Kurt who let out a quiet snicker. He finally sat back down.

“I’ve never seen this information.”

“I know.”

“Then you also know I don’t respond well to threats.”

“Mr. President, this is not a threat, this is an opportunity. There are forces in this world, both mutant and human alike, who believe that a war is coming. You’ll see from those files that some have already tried to start one. And there have been casualties. Losses on both sides. Mr. President, what you are about to tell the world is true. This is a moment. A moment to repeat the mistakes of the past, or to work together for a better future. We’re here to stay, Mr. President. The next move is yours.”

“We’ll be watching,” Logan said.

logan is around 171 years old (but at this point in the story, he doesn't really know how old he is so it's kinda irrelevant now) and reader is around 26 years old

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time

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sturniolohouse · 6 months ago

Text

Anniversary in the Cape - M.S

A/N: hey so, i feel CRAZY after writing this. this is truly an example of the duality of my writing... also, i'm sorry if there's any typos, i've proofread a ton and even stuck this bitch in grammarly but i could have missed something. she's looonnnng, so get some wine (if legal) and some popcorn and enjoy!!!!!! ALSO, ALSO, minors!!! DNI!!!! pls and thank you. :)

summary: matt and reader take their relationship to the next level, going on an overdue vacation to the cape for their anniversary.

warnings: cursing, smut (unprotected do not recommend), spanking, choking, matt being hot, uhhh idk

word count: 5.8k

song: stargazing - the neighborhood

'started with a spark, now we're on fire'

"And you're sure your parents were okay with us using the car and the house?" I ask looking at him focus on the road in front of him.

"Yes, baby. For the one-hundredth time, they don't mind. Quit worrying, this is our vacation," He looks at me quickly, taking a hand off the wheel to meet my thigh and squeeze it lightly.

"I know, I'm just nervous," I admit softly and he turns to me with wide playful eyes.

"Nervous! Why the hell are you nervous?" He laughs in bewilderment, and I roll my eyes, shrugging slightly.

"I mean, obviously we've been alone before, but we've never been away just the two of us," I explain.

"Yeah, and I'm fucking ecstatic about it. Like you said, no interruptions, quiet house, on the cape...possibilities are endless." He says looking at me with a small suggestive smile growing on his face.

Of course, Matt and I get alone time. Do we get as much as we would like? No.

It's difficult finding time for ourselves when Matt lives with his brothers and my roommates are hermits.

Which I never saw as an issue, because I honestly don't mind spending time with Chris and Nick whenever I'm by their place–which is often. I was actually friends with all of them way before Matt and I began dating.

But when Matt brought up the last time we had gone on a real date, it had been months.

"No, I know. I'm excited too, it's just a new step in our relationship and it feels very...adult? I don't know, I sound silly," I shake my head and he squeezes my thigh again before grabbing my hand.

"Hey, I know what you mean, and you don't sound silly." He softens a bit to reassure me before kissing the back of my hand. My heart warms at his gesture and I squeeze his hand.

"I'm excited to show you one of my favorite places, I still can't believe you've never been. I literally grew up here." He changes the subject as he switches lanes and I see the sign indicating Cape Cod is less than a mile away.

We flew into Boston by ourselves yesterday afternoon and spent the night at his parent's house. It was Matt's idea, saying he didn't mind taking the drive as it wasn't too far from his house in Somerville.

"Are you finally going to tell me what we're doing?" I rub circles into the back of his hand with my thumb.

His mouth quirks to one side pensively but he laughs as soon as he hears me sigh impatiently.

"Okay, okay, you really wanna know?" He drawls out, turning to glance at me for a moment then turning back to the road.

"You know I wanna know," I lean over the divider and stare into the side of his face. He smirks a bit, side-eyeing me a few times before humming.

"Hmm, I think I'll leave you squirming a little longer," He says after a moment.

He exits the highway and I huff, slumping back into my seat.

This place looks like something straight out of a storybook.

The green, hilly scenery takes my breath away. Matt shows me the main street, driving past the historic houses and buildings as families and couples walk down the street. When we round the bend, the dense trees become few and far between and the lush green landscape dissolves into tall grass, sand, and rock as the ocean comes into view.

We drive along the coast the rest of the way and I just stare in awe at the cozy beach town as Matt tells stories of growing up here in the summer.

"That house at the end is the family house," He points to the one on the left.

Pulling into the driveway, Matt puts the car in park before cutting the engine. I go to open my door but he stops me, putting a finger up and getting out of the car himself.

I give him a questioning look before I see him jog to the other side of the car to open my door for me.

"And they say chivalry is dead," I shake my head jokingly and he shrugs with a smirk.

I get out of the car and lean up to give him a quick kiss, we're smiley and giddy when we pull apart. He gives me another kiss before handing me a key.

"Go head inside, I'll grab our bags," He says softly against my lips and I nod quickly.

As I walk past him to make my way to the front door, I feel a light slap to my ass. I go to give him a playful disapproving look, but he's already opening the trunk to grab our stuff and acting like nothing happened.

The house is small and charming.

It belongs to their grandparents and has been the family vacation home for decades. The colorful wind chimes on the front porch sing with the soft breeze. I breathe in the salty air and walk towards the steps leading to the front door.

I twist the key to open the door and I'm engulfed with a warm, inviting scent. There are tons of family pictures on the walls and my heart swells at the baby pictures of the triplets.

I can easily spot Matt in a picture of the three of them on the beach, probably around four or five years old.

Seeing photos of them as children always blows my mind because of how identical they looked.

Matt comes in with our bags, noticing me looking at the photos on the wall.

"You were so fucking cute as a kid," I say going to grab my duffel from him but he takes my hand instead, leading me down the hall to the bedroom.

"Am I not cute now?" He pretends to be offended.

"Eh," I joke back and he opens the door at the end of the hall.

"This is our bedroom, the bathroom is next door on the left," He nods behind us toward the hall.

The bedroom is a pale seafoam green color, the bed adorned with a vintage patchwork quilt lined with a ruffle trim. The room has more family photos hung on the walls and beach-themed decor.

"We can unpack now and then head to the store to grab something for dinner and the next few days. There's definitely no food here. Sound good?" He places our bags on the bed and turns to me, placing his hands on his hips.

He wears a backward camo Boston Red Sox hat, a black tee with a silver chain around his neck, jean shorts, and white New Balance sneakers.

I must have been ogling him for too long because he snaps his fingers in front of my face with a smug expression.

"D'ya hear me, kid, or are you too busy eye-fucking me?" He smiles, licking his lips, and I feel a deep blush bloom from my chest up to my neck.

"Not my fault my boyfriend is so hot," I shrug, trying to recover from his playful callout, and he rolls his eyes, blushing himself.

He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his chest. I wrap my arms around his middle, placing my head over his heart as we settle into a moment of comfortable silence.

An intrusive thought takes over, and I squeeze him tighter against me. I hear him groan at the sudden pressure of my grip, and he grabs hold of my arms.

"Okay, okay. Enough with the cuteness-aggression. You're going to break my ribs, kid," He wheezes.

I let up only after he tickles my sides. I squeal as he chases me to the other side of the bed and I finally surrender and ask for mercy. He slaps my ass and tells me I'll pay for it later.

We unpack our stuff and head out to the store to get ingredients for tacos. The one and only thing I've tried to improve in Matt is his cooking skills.

When we first got together, it was concerning how little he knew about cooking along with the number of times a week he'd eat out. I changed that real fast, teaching him basic meals he could make himself that were quick and pretty foolproof. Tacos were one of them.

"Go shower, I'll start dinner." He tells me, putting all of the groceries on the counter.

"You sure you can handle it?" I tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hey, I've gotten better. Didn't you like the salmon I made you the other week?" He points his finger at me and I roll my eyes.

"Yes, my love, I was very proud of you." I lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth, "I'll be quick," I say before going to take my long-awaited shower.

As the hot water cascades over my shoulders, I can't help but let my thoughts drift. This trip is a huge step for us, and despite my nerves, I know it was a much-needed and deserved trip.

We don't really have an anniversary only because we both don't remember the specific date and we never made our being official a big deal. It's never been our style.

But we decided this would be a getaway for our 'anniversary' as next month will be our second summer together.

I finish up and wrap myself in a towel, savoring the lingering warmth before I quickly get dressed. I smell the scent of sizzling meat and spices coming from the kitchen.

When I reach the kitchen, I can't help but smile at the sight of Matt carefully chopping lettuce. His brows furrowed and his tongue poked out in serious concentration.

"Smells amazing in here," I comment, leaning against the doorway.

Matt looks up startled a bit, dropping the knife and putting a hand over his heart. A proud grin quickly spreads across his face when he realizes it's just me.

"You fuckin' scared me. I'm almost done, just need to heat up the tortillas." He gestures for me to come over, and I do, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind.

"You're getting good at this," I compliment, kissing his shoulder as he flips the tortillas.

"Only because I have a great teacher," he replies, turning his head to kiss my cheek.

I help set the table while Matt finishes up. We sit down to eat, the atmosphere cozy and intimate. The tacos are actually delicious, and I make sure to shower Matt with compliments for his efforts. We pop open the sparkling apple cider Mary-Lou and Jimmy gave as a parting gift to us. Digging through the cupboards, we end up finding old plastic flutes to make a quick toast with.

"Here's to us, thank you for making each day brighter. To many more days with you, I love you very much," I say simply, raising my glass. He gets shy and smiley but clinks our glasses.

I can't help but smile at him as he blushes and tries to hide it. I lean in for a kiss and he immediately gives me one.

"I love you more," He whispers against me, pulling me onto his lap and giving me a deeper kiss. "I would say something too, but I don't want to sound stupid,"

"Hush, I already know you're madly in love with me. You made me bomb ass tacos," I joke, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him into my chest. He giggles and kisses my collarbone.

After dinner, we go to the backyard to watch what's left of the sunset. We put a lawn chair by the water and sit together watching the orange horizon disappear behind the shoreline. The hues of blues and purples melt together in the sky until it grows darker and the moonlight casts a silvery glow on the water.

The sound of the waves is soothing, our breathing in sync as I sit in his lap, his hand drumming lightly on my hip.

"This will continue to be my favorite place, I'm glad I get to share it with you." Matt says, his voice soft and contemplative.

"Thank you for sharing it with me," I reply, squeezing his hand. "I'm really happy we came."

"Me too." He turns to face me, his blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. He goes deep in thought for a moment and he almost goes to say something but stops himself.

I give him a questioning look and nudge him lightly.

"What was that?" I ask gently and he shakes his head.

"Nothing," He tries to brush it off but I grab his chin and turn his face toward me.

"Didn't seem like it," I play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I don't wanna freak you out," he says lowly and I give him a pressing look before he sighs deeply, finally giving in.

"I was just imagining our future. I can just see us, you know, bringing our kids here in the summers. They'd grow up with memories of this place like I do," he admits, staring directly at the water as he confesses his inner thoughts.

My heart tightens with emotion at his statement.

"You think about stuff like that?" My voice cracks, tears stinging my eyes and he immediately snaps his head to look at me.

"Hey, why are you crying?" He looks worried, cupping my cheek and using his thumb to catch a tear falling.

"Of course, I think of 'stuff like that' though. Does that scare you?" His voice laced with uncertainty and I shake my head immediately at his foolish question.

"No, no," I say softly, running my hand through his hair tenderly, then tracing his face. Starting from his left eyebrow, down his cheekbone, and over the scruff on his jaw.

His eyes flutter at my soft touch and he grabs my hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles.

"It's actually really sweet, Matt. I didn't think you'd want things like that with me, a family..." I admit and his eyes widen at my foolishness.

"Sweetheart, I hope you know you're it for me. Pretty sure if you ever decide one day you're sick of me, I'll spend the rest of my fucking life alone." He tells me openly and I blubber at his sweet words that pierce my heart more.

"Stop crying," He laughs lightly, getting slightly nervous by my reaction but I try to compose myself.

"You wanna have babies with me," I squeak, crying more and he tosses his head back in laughter as I continue to be a mess.

"Yes, I want 'babies' with you. If you want babies," He smiles, continuing to wipe my tears. "Okay, I love you, but you have snot all over your face," he says motioning all over his face with his finger and I gasp covering my nose.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Now, no more tears" He says and I roll my eyes, hitting his shoulder lightly, laughing a little bit now.

"They're happy tears. I just love you, a lot. It's overwhelming sometimes," I bury my face into his neck and he rubs my back soothingly as I actually compose myself.

I must be severely PMS-ing because I'm never this emotional.

"I know what you mean," He says, my heart swelling once more. "It scares me how much I love you." He kisses my hair but I lift my head for a real one.

We share a tender kiss, the ocean breeze wrapping around us like a comforting embrace.

"I can see it too by the way. Having a family. But way, way in the future," I say when I pull away, fixing the hair on his forehead.

"Oh, yeah for sure. Although, shit happens, who knows." He shrugs and I raise my eyebrow.

"Well, thanks to modern science and my IUD, no kids for at least ten years," I say and his eyes widen a bit.

"Okay, ten years is kinda a long time..." He trails off, catching me off guard.

"Matt!" I say in shock.

"I'm kidding!" He laughs.

. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖

Matt walks into the room after brushing his teeth just as I'm taking the throw pillows off the bed and pulling back the duvet.

I feel his arms wrap around me from behind and his face buries into my neck. He places open-mouth kisses on the curve of my neck, making his way up to my ear, where he grazes his teeth lightly.

I sigh, shuddering at the sensation and allowing my head to fall back against his shoulder.

He puts both hands on my hips this time, pulling my backside into his crotch. I moan at the feeling of him already hardening against me and I press my legs together in anticipation.

"I like this, no one around to interrupt...just us," His voice is velvet and I melt into his hold.

I hum, "Yeah, it's nice," My voice is airy.

"Can be as loud as we want, too..." He chuckles lowly, as I feel one of his hands sneak beneath my sleep shirt.

His fingertips delicately dance up my stomach, barely even touching my skin. Leaving goosebumps in their wake, yearning for his touch.

His hand stops right below my breast and I whine when he doesn't touch me further. I arch hoping to make more contact with his hand, but he doesn't give it to me.

"Matt," I say almost as a whisper, a plea.

"Mm," He hums, returning to kissing my neck. I can hear and feel the smug grin on his face, he knows what game he's playing.

"Touch me," I whine, arching again and lifting myself to reach his hand.

He finally cups my breast, taking my nipple in between his fingers and I gasp as he tugs and pinches gently.

He sucks on my ear lightly, giving it a kitten lick before blowing cold air. I spin around in his hold, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into me.

The kiss was explosive, and we both let out a breath we didn’t realize we were holding.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling our hips flush together and leaning into the kiss more, forcing me to bend back.

In the heat of the moment, we stumble back onto the bed behind us clumsily, my butt slipping off the edge of the bed. I yelp when I almost fall, and laugh into the kiss. Our teeth clink together momentarily as he chuckles too.

He grabs under my thighs, lifting me further onto the bed as I make room for him to settle between them.

"That's better," He breathes out before kissing me again, laying me down on the cool linen sheets.

I revel in the feeling of his weight on top of me, our hips perfectly puzzled together, my hands running through his soft hair, while his rest on my hips.

I tug at the roots of his hair to elicit a delicious sound from him, something primal and guttural.

He squeezes my hips and pulls back to look down at me with half-lidded eyes. His pupils are so blown out you can barely make out the icy blue of his irises.

He keeps eye contact with me as he makes his way lower, lifting my sleep shirt above my breasts. My nipples pebble and harden as they're exposed to the cool air. He places wet kisses down my sternum, then my stomach until he reaches right above my cotton underwear.

He kneels on the floor so he's perfectly aligned in front of my core, his fingers play with the band of my underwear and he smiles to himself shaking his head.

I lean up on my elbows, "What?" I can't help but smile back.

"Kittens?" He raises his eyebrows and smirks at me.

I shrug, not ashamed in the slightest at the pattern of my underwear.

"Yeah, you like 'em?" I deadpan, but break into a grin when he tips his head back and laughs.

Endearingly, of course.

"Very sexy," he replies, and I shriek as he yanks me to the very edge of the bed.

He slips his fingers into the hem of my underwear, finally pulling them down my legs and discarding them. He lightly slaps the inside of my thigh before prying them apart and pinning them.

Just as quick as we're joking about my underwear, I'm back to trembling under his touch.

Completely exposed to him now, he teases me, kissing my inner thighs and nipping at the sensitive skin.

My hips buck at the gentle assault but he keeps me in place, stunting my movements.

"Patience..." he chides and I roll my eyes.

He slaps my thigh a little harder this time and I hiss, my core pulsing at the act. He licks a stripe on each crease of my thigh, purposely ignoring my aching cunt.

His thumbs spread my lips apart before he collects my arousal using it to circle my clit. I whimper at the contact, stopping myself from bucking my hips again.

Matt's in a trance, mouth agape, eyes heavy, as he continues to tease me and I become more and more restless.

Almost as if he couldn't contain himself any longer, he finally buries his head between my thighs. He hungrily licks from my entrance up to my clit, before sucking on my swollen nub like I'm a honeysuckle.

"Fuck," I gasp under my breath, squirming under his grip. My breath shallowed and my heart stuttered.

"I told you, we could be as loud as we want," He slurs against me, flattening his tongue against me and shaking his head side to side quickly.

I let go of a whine before snapping my legs around his head, overwhelmed by pleasure. He growls, immediately prying them back open and relentlessly swirling his tongue against me.

I grab a hold of the hair at the crown of his head as he continues to drink me in. Skillfully lapping every inch of my folds, knowing exactly what to do to get me wound up in merely minutes.

I feel the build-up of my first orgasm, all my muscles going taut as I begin to shake uncontrollably.

Matt knows that I'm about to come, so he pulls his mouth away and replaces it with his fingers. He slips his ring and middle fingers inside me with ease, massaging my front wall and coaxing my orgasm out of me with each gentle drag.

"Oh my fucking god," I cry out, my hips moving with his fingers.

He stands above me now, swiping my hair away from my face and gently caressing my cheekbone. I grab onto his bicep beside me as he leans down to kiss me, swallowing my whimpers.

"C'mon, baby. I can feel you squeezing the fuck outta my fingers. Come for me," His voice is a gentle command against my jaw.

His mouth attaches to my nipple as his thumb smushes into my puffy clit, drawing lazy circles, stimulating me everywhere.

That's all it takes before the wave peaks, then crashes and floods of icy-hot, blinding pleasure courses through me. He moans against me as he feels me pulse and ooze around his fingers.

My nails dig into his bicep and I arch into him, my hips mindlessly riding out the pleasure as his name falls from my lips in a desperate, broken cry.

His mouth and fingers gently work me through the aftershocks before I'm grabbing his wrist and whining from the sensitivity.

"You're so fucking hot," He breathes, kissing me again.

I exhale into him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him down onto me.

He pulls back, tossing his shirt off his head and undoing his belt, looking down at me as I lay half-naked and panting. I lean up on my elbows and move myself further up the bed.

He's only in his black boxers now, placing a knee on the bed before crawling towards me.

"Wanna taste you," I say, reaching up to kiss his neck and he lets out a shaky breath.

He shakes his head, "I won't fucking make it," he pants, grabbing my jaw and claiming my mouth again.

He pulls back, "As much as I love this fucking mouth," He adds darkly, tracing my swollen lips before licking them sensually and kissing me deeper.

I moan at the kiss and the feel of his cold rings against my hot skin. I run my hands down his chest as our breathing picks up, the kiss becoming more heated.

I run my tongue along his bottom lip and he allows me in before moving his hand down from my jaw to my neck, squeezing gently.

I pull back this time to take my shirt off, leaving me completely bare in front of him. I then hook my fingers in the band of his boxers and pull them down just enough to free him. His dick springs up, the tip so red it looks painful.

I spit into my hand before taking him into my hand and giving him a couple of strokes, swiping his weeping tip with my thumb. He whimpers at the touch before grabbing my wrist and making me release him.

I pout, bringing my thumb to my mouth to suck off his precum. His mouth falls agape at the sight, and his eyes screw shut as he falls onto one of his hands weakly.

"What's wrong?" I make sure my voice is dripping like sweet, gooey honey. Tempting a very hungry grizzly bear.

He grits his teeth, straightening himself back up on his knees in front of me. I look up at him, my hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

"You're going to be the death of me," His voice is gritty, and I tilt my head innocently. I yelp when he grabs my hips and flips me over.

It's moments like these that remind me of his surprising strength.

He pulls me onto my knees so my cheek is pressed into the mattress and my ass is elevated, leaving me exposed and shaking with anticipation.

His hand comes down onto my asscheek and I hiss at the sting. I feel his dick poke the back of my thigh as his hand smooths over my ass to ease the burn.

"Matt, please," I pant when he kisses down my spine and I push my hips back impatiently.

"Need my cock that bad, hm?" he murmurs against my skin and I nod quickly.

"Need you inside me, please," I whine, not caring how desperate I sound, only focused on how his low chuckle makes my core pulse around nothing.

"Yeah?" He croons and my breath hitches when I feel him run his tip along my aching pussy. Knocking against my clit with each teasing stroke.

"Yes-" I whimper and then gasp when I feel the familiar, delicious stretch of him.

I grip the sheets as he grips my hips harshly, slowly entering me.

"Fuuuck," He strains out, and I can picture the vein in his neck protruding, wishing I could lick it.

He fills me completely, his hips flush against my ass. I whimper as I feel him buried deep inside me, hitting a sensitive spot that turns my legs into jelly.

He begins guiding me in a gentle rhythm, slow and deliberate, determined to make this last. His thrusts are deep, intentionally angling down to hit the spot that he knows makes me see stars.

"You feel so fucking good, so deep," I praise him and he slightly picks up the pace.

My core tightens around him involuntarily and he hisses, his grip on my hip becoming almost painfully tight.

"Fuck, don't do that. I'll come too fast," He pulls back slightly, trying to steady himself.

"I don't care," I push back against him again, just wanting to feel him.

He curses under his breath, his hands firm on my hips to stop my movements. He pulls me up by my hair, my back against his chest now and I laugh maniacally before moaning at the fresh angle.

"Must you always be so defiant?" His breath is hot against my ear and I can't help the grin on my face. I love getting him riled up.

"I like it when you push me around," I admit, my voice dripping with playful challenge.

He releases his grip on my hair, and I catch myself on my hands, bracing for whatever comes next.

"Yeah? You like it when I'm rough?" He presses, his voice low and taunting.

"Mhm," I hum pressing my hips back again but he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty.

I go to whine in protest but I'm shut up with the hardest slap of the night, right on top of the red mark he left before.

I cry out and bury my face into the sheets again, but quiver with longing for more.

"That's what you wanted, right?" He continues to taunt and spanks me again but this time, on the other side.

I moan and go to rub my clit for some sort of relief but he grabs both my wrists, knocking me down further.

Another smack. I groan this time in frustration.

He gathers my wrists in one hand as I feel him lean over me. His hand sneaks around to find my neck as he presses his mouth against my ear.

"Are you just that fucking desperate?" He queries, his fingers pressing into my pulse points, just enough for my head to lighten.

"Please, Matt." I plea, but don't exactly know what I'm pleading for.

"What's the matter, baby, you can't handle it anymore? Thought you liked me pushing you around," He tuts.

His free hand lifts my hips before he teases my entrance with his tip and I let out a shaky breath.

"Hm? Nothing to say?" He pushes his tip in but pulls back and I whine at the teasing.

He releases my neck to brush my hair away so he can see the side of my face. A reminder that he's still the caring Matt I love.

"Just fuck me, please," I beg and he sighs deeply.

"You're so fucking lucky I love you,” he says through his teeth before he drives into me again in one swift motion.

Both of us moan in relief, the tension finally being broken.

He grinds his hips down into me teasingly and my eyes roll back at the intense, tight angle.

I feel his body heat leave my back as he straightens out behind me. Placing his hands on my lower back, he leans forward causing my back to arch before slamming into me. Again and again and again.

Each breath is knocked out of me, and each blow is deeper than the last, discovering a new spot inside of me and pushing me closer and closer to the edge. His pace quickens with every approving sound I make, answering me with his own moans of approval.

He turns me onto my back, staying inside me, wrapping my leg around his waist before leaning forward to kiss me slowly.

"Mm, missed your face," he admits softly, his thrusts starting off slow but steadily increasing momentum. "Wanna see that pretty face when I make you come," he coos, and I shriek at a particularly hard thrust that sends me further up the bed.

He watches my face the entire time, studying every furrow, every eye roll, mirroring my expressions as if he can feel everything he is doing to me.

I can tell he's trying to distract himself, to last longer, slowing down to kiss me and then picking up the pace.

My second orgasm build-up is slower and more subtle. It almost comes out of nowhere, but he knows my body so well. He reaches down to stimulate my clit, deepening his strokes, driving me to the brink.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh-" My back arches, and my ears ring as my orgasm rips me apart.

"Good girl, fucking come for me–oh fuck. I'm coming–I'm gonna come. W-where do you want me to-" He rushes out, as my pussy continues to spasm around him.

Through my haze, I push my heels into his hips and grab the back of his neck.

"I-inside, come inside me," I pant and he shudders, whimpering.

"Oh my–fucking, fuck," He strains as he comes and I moan at the feeling of him filling me up.

He pushes as deep as he can inside me, and the aftershocks of my orgasm milk him further causing him to hiss.

He collapses into my collarbone, his hair drenched in sweat as he takes a moment to regain strength.

I place a hand in his hair and scratch his back lightly as we settle into a steady breathing rhythm.

"Holy fuck," he says eventually into my neck, laughing a little and I giggle too.

"Wait, wait don't laugh-" He pulls away with his face scrunched and I realize he's still inside me.

He hisses again in sensitivity, looking down at where we're connected before pulling out of me carefully. I whimper at the feeling and he softly apologizes.

I feel his come leak out of me and I watch his expression falter for a second as he notices the sight.

"Fuck me," he says under his breath, shaking his head and I bite my lip to stop myself from giggling.

I slowly reach my hand down to play with myself and his eyes widen as he quickly grabs my hand to stop me.

"Are you trying to kill me tonight? No, I'm cleaning you up and we're going to bed. Stay right there, don't fucking move." He gets up, pointing at me as he walks away.

I cover my mouth and laugh at his reaction. He comes back with a wet washcloth, using it to wipe me carefully.

He huffs out again, shaking his head and I give him a knowing look.

"Devil woman, don't look at me like that." He tries to sound stern, but his voice cracks with nerves.

"I love you," I tell him, meaning it. His eyes soften and he leans over me, a hand on either side of my head. He scans my face, a soft smile carves into his face before he leans down to kiss me.

"We really need our own place," he says when he pulls back and my stomach flips.

"What was that?" I ask him with wide eyes.

"I said we really need a shower, c'mon," He lies, laughing as he tries to pull me up but I'm tugging him back towards me.

'Hey, get back here. That's not what you said," I laugh at his antics but he runs away towards the bathroom before I hear him call back.

"I plead the fifth!"

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolohouse #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut

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loafysainz · 19 days ago

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the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

chap 1, chap 2, chap 3, chap 4, chap 5, chap 6, chap 7, chap 8, chap 9, chap 10

PART 9 MEET CRUELLA & SEEK HELP

The door swung open just as Carlos stood by the pool, his face lit up. “Matheo, you're finally here!”

Mattia approaches, he was wearing a loose tee and shorts for the pool where his father and the young woman were gathered, Carlos put his arm around his little one and looked ahead where the young woman was drinking lemonade.

“Matheo, meet Meredith,” Carlos announced with a smile, gesturing toward the woman lounging near the pool with a lemonade in hand. Meanwhile, Mattia took off his sunglasses, to see the young woman clearly.

Meredith stood up, her smile easy and confident. “Ah, so this is the famous Matheo I’ve been hearing about. Your father talks about you nonstop. It’s great to finally meet you.”

Mattia tilted his head, squinting slightly as if sizing Meredith up. “Really? Well, here I am.” He gave a polite, almost disinterested smile. “I’ll be 10 soon. How old are you?”

Meredith chuckled, glancing at Carlos for backup, but Carlos simply raised his brows. “I’m twenty-two.”

“Only thirteen years older than me,” Mattia replied smoothly, turning his attention back to his father. “And you, Dad? How old are you again?”

Carlos laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Wow, so curious all of a sudden, Chilie!" He said, "How about I go get some snacks and drinks to celebrate?” He pointed toward the house.

Mattia looked at him curiously "Celebrate what exactly, Dad?"

Meredith looked at his partner, as if he were scolding him or something similar, although it was a dissimulation, but for Mattia it was not at all discreet.

Carlos paused mid-step. “Your homecoming, of course!” He winked at Meredith and made his way inside.

The moment Carlos disappeared, Meredith’s phone buzzed. He glanced at Mattia, holding up a finger. “Give me a second, okay?”

Mattia watched him intently as he answered the call.

“Yes... Yes, Mr. Wolff, I’m listening... Oh, the charity event?” Meredith’s voice dropped to a professional tone. “I’m afraid Mr. Sainz will be unavailable. He’ll be out of the country for those dates, unfortunately. Mm-hmm. Yes, I’ll let him know.”

Mattia’s brows furrowed. “Dad’s leaving the country?”

Meredith looked up, startled, then let out a small laugh. “Oh no, that’s just a little white lie. You know, to get him out of something.”

Mattia gave a slow nod, clearly unconvinced, but he let it slide.

“So,” Meredith changed the subject, his tone lighter, “how was camp? Amazing?”

Mattia ignored the question entirely. “You said you’ve heard a lot about me. What exactly did my dad say?”

Meredith smiled, walking close to Mattia. “Oh, only good things! He’s so proud of you— equestrianism championships, top marks in school. It’s clear you two are very – very close.”

Mattia took off his loose tee and showed a half smile. "Well, it's just that we're very close , 'just him and me' We have each other."

Before Meredith could expect it, the boy jumped into the pool, splashing some water on him in the process. He stood up immediately because of this.

Mattia came out of the water and with feigned guilt said, "I'm so sorry! Did I get you very wet?"

Meredith gave him a smile, forced to look like Mattia's.

"No, sweetie, it was just a little. Nothing to worry about,” she said as she dried herself with a towel she had near her chair. She took off her black hat and walked a little closer to the edge of the pool to talk to the boy.

"Hey, the other day, your Dad took me horseback riding. I used your horse. I hope you don't mind."

"Don't worry, Pinon is used to strangers. Of all the others, you look the most normal."

Meredith made a face, Mattia tried not to laugh so that his acting would be more real.

"Others? What exactly do you mean?" The young woman asked, somewhat curious about it, Mattia could see how her smile turned into more of a grimace.

He was satisfied about it, Mattia showed a sly smile. “Shall I offer you the complete information?”

Meredith blinked and asked him. “Explaine it to me!”

“As usual. I’ve seen the routine a thousand times. Horse rides at sunset, romantic dinners under the stars, and always, always a bottle of wine to top it off. It’s predictable, really.”

As if on cue, Carlos returned, his voice breaking through the tension like a knife slicing through butter. “I’m back. Do you want some wine, Mer?”

Meredith couldn’t help it, Mattia gestured dramatically toward her, his face saying, See? Told you so.

His dad noticed the silence immediately and looked between the two of them, suspicion creeping into his expression. “Did you two talks about something interesting while I was gone?”

Mattia gave his dad the most innocent smile, but before he could answer, Mattia dove straight into the pool, creating a splash big enough to avoid the conversation entirely.

Meredith, give him a smile, shrugged. “Should I assume that’s a yes?” Carlos asked, his gaze darting to his girlfriend.

“You guessed right,” Meredith replied smoothly.

Mattia stood on the other side of the pool, observing the adults as they exchanged looks that were anything but subtle. If they kept this up, the entire plan would fall apart. He needed to call his brother right away!

*****

The phone rang, and Martin picked it up, his voice lighthearted. "Y/LN residence. Mattia?"

"Yes, Martin. It's me," Matheo replied, his voice slightly amused. "Sounds just like you on the phone."

Martin chuckled. "I'm sorry, to whom did you wish to speak?"

"Mattia? of course," he said, switching gears. "One moment, please."

He put the phone down, only to pick it up again a second later.

"A Sammy Sainz for you," he said, with a hint of playfulness. "Sounds just like your twin." Matheo rolled his eyes, amused. "My twin? Very funny, Martin. Good one."

He took the phone. "Hello?" he said, her tone shifting. "Oh, Sammy, my friend”

Matheo’s voice crackled through the line. “Hi, how are you?” while the other side Mattia biting his lips. "Hey, how's it going over there?"

"Oh, everything's quite lovely here," Matheo replied. "We're expecting a bit of rain today."

“Sam, can you hold on for a moment?"

"Okay, but hurry, Math. I've got to talk to you!" Mattia’s voice was urgent, like he had something big to share.

Matheo glanced at the room, he started to looked around and grabbed the phone and hid inside a storage room under the stairs, where they kept the coats, when he closed it he couldn't contain his excitement.

"Okay, now I can talk," Matheo said, his voice is quiet small but excited. Before Mattia could told what happen, Matheo already talking too fast about what he is doing with their mom. "Oh my God… Mom’s incredible. I can’t believe I’ve spent my entire life without knowing her. She’s beautiful, fun, smart, everything I imagined, but better. And the gown she designed? Absolutely amazing.” on the other hand, Mattia of the phone rolled his eyes and waited for his brother to finish.

"But... she told me how she and Dad first met, and if you ask me, there's a whole possibility here."

Mattia, from the other side of the phone, took a deep breath and groaned. "Matheo, stop! We’ve got a major problem here. You need to bring Mom out here. Like, immediately."

"Immediately?" Matheo balked. "Are you nuts? I’ve only had one day with her. I can’t just-"

"This is an emergency, THEO!" Mattia’s interjected, cutting him off. "Dad’s in love."

Matheo blinked and laugh a bit. "Get out of here. Dad doesn’t fall in love. At least, not seriously.”

"Trust me," Mattia said, his tone firm. "He's serious about this one. He’s always holding her hand, kissing her neck, waiting on her hand and foot."

Matheo’s stomach churned at the thought. "He is? That's... horrible."

"Well, you’ll have to break them up or something!" Matheo urged.

"I’m trying, the young woman has Dad hypnotized as if he were a dog. The only way will be for us to reunite our parents as soon as possible." Mattia sighed, the weight of it all sinking in.

"Matheo, you’ve got to get back here. I need your help."

"I can’t," Matheo said firmly, his voice tinged with longing. "I want more time with Mom. You don’t get it. I’m still getting to know her, and I don’t want to just leave."

“Matheo you know what we have to do. If not now, then when?” Mattia’s voice grew louder, tinged with frustration. “I can’t stand seeing that woman with Dad anymore. It’s annoying just hearing her talk. Matheo, we have to get Mom and Dad together now. It’s the only way,..”

Suddenly, Mattia froze mid-sentence, distracted by a strange crackling noise on the phone line.

“Mattia, I can barely hear you,” Matheo said innocently, even as he crumpled up a candy wrapper next to the receiver. His mischievous smile gave away his true intentions.

“What? Matheo, what do you mean…?” Mattia’s voice was laced with confusion.

“Operator, the signal is gone!” Matheo declared dramatically, pushing the phone away with a theatrical flair. He ended the call with a satisfied grin, knowing full well he had just sabotaged their conversation.

On the other end of the line, Mattia stared at the telephone in disbelief. “Big help, little bro,” he muttered sarcastically before slamming the phone down in frustration.

Meanwhile, back at home, Matheo carefully crawled out of the closet where he had been hiding. As he stood up and dusted himself off, he realized he was not alone. His mother, Y/N, his grandfather, and Martin were all staring at him as if he had just announced he was from another planet.

Matheo tried not to be panic, he forced himself to play it cool. “Oh, it’s, uh, a custom we have at camp,” he explained, keeping his tone casual. “You know, going into the lockers and talking on the phone. It’s kind of a tradition.” He smiled nervously, hoping they would buy his excuse.

Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and confusion. “What a strange tradition, baby.” she remarked, her tone light but still questioning.

“It’s a bit strange, but I think it’s a nice tradition,” Matheo said, clearly trying to ease the tension.

“So,” he said quickly, changing the subject, “have you all had breakfast yet?” His voice was bright and chipper, like he hadn’t just been caught crawling out of a closet mid-scheme.

#carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 fluff #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #cs55 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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cityofmeliora · 6 months ago

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notes / thoughts on Terzo's characterization (Terzo is so disappointed and depressed and i love him)

a few weeks ago i saw this post from slavghoul which has snippets of TF describing the Papas. it includes this quote:

“He represents this frustrated old guy who hates everyone, especially himself. But despite his wounds and his darkness, he has a sense of humour and is endearing, like most of my heroes. The late actor Christopher Lee was an inspiration to me. In many ways, he is Papa.” (Metallian 7/2015)

i thought this quote was really interesting because i'd never seen anyone talking about that side of Terzo before. Terzo hating "everyone, especially himself" felt at odds with the charming personality he typically displayed. i wanted to know how that developed and where his "wounds and darkness" came from. so i did some digging for quotes on Terzo's history and characterization. here are my notes + thoughts:

something that came up again and again in my research is that he is actually quite antisocial when he's not performing. it seems like he didn't want people to know anything about him past his stage persona.

TOUR MANAGER: No one in the crew really gets to see or speak to Papa, ever. Only Anna and myself have access. He is not in the building and then he'll just be there, just for show time. The only thing you really need to know about Papa is what you see of him on stage. Ghost - The Devil's Hands (Documentary) (2017)

he almost never interacted with any of the nameless ghouls or the tour crew. in fact, he really went out of his way to avoid them. he traveled separately, would appear right before the start of a show, and then he would disappear as soon as it ended. in "The Devil's Hands", it showed they sometimes had trouble locating him when he was needed.

With this new era, can you introduce Papa Emeritus III? NAMELESS GHOUL: I don't know him very well yet. We haven't really done our mileage with him, so I am sure that we will find out. But he seems nice. He seems okay. Obviously, he's very close relatives with Papa number two, who was a little bit of a hmm. I'm sure that he isn't like, completely different, but we'll find out. He's a bit of a recluse, and he sort of travels on his own. And he sort of appears when we're due onstage and then he disappears when we're offstage. So yeah, I guess we have a little bit of a social disconnect there, but I don't see a big problem with that. I mean he seems to be doing well on his own, and I don't know if he has a little harem somewhere that occupies his time offstage, I guess. I'm assuming that. Loud TV (July 2015)

INTERVIEWER: How has it been working with the third Papa? How is he fitting into the group? NAMELESS GHOUL: We like him, actually. He seems to be quite nice. Obviously, we haven't really done our "miles" with him yet, so we don't know him that well. And he doesn't travel with us- he sort of goes separately everywhere, and he appears just before the show and then he just disappears. So we haven't really had the time to sort of fully get to know him. But overall, he seems quite a joyful chap. Metal Injection (September 2015)

predictably, his bandmates did not know him very well. but they always remarked that they liked him and that he seemed like a nice, chill guy. (they also assumed he had a harem that he spent time with when he wasn't performing, which is probably not true, considering how much effort he put into avoiding people whenever possible.)

NAMELESS GHOUL: We don't really socialize with Papa, so… But he seems nice! But he's very occupied in his harem. [...] He's a little bit cooler. He seems to be the nicer of the two brothers --I don't know if there are two-- but he seems to have, I don't know, a kinder mother, probably, or something that makes him slightly.. INTERVIEWER: A little different. NAMELESS GHOUL: Yeah, he's a little bit different. AMBY (October 2015)

i don't think his charming, pleasant demeanor was just an act, though. i think it did come from a genuine part of himself... he wasn't always an antisocial recluse.

before he became Papa, he was a cardinal in Krakow, Poland. Bishop Necropolitus Cracoviensis (the character representing Zbigniew Bielak, the artist who does the album art for Ghost) characterized younger Terzo as having enthusiasm in all his endeavors. he was always a very devoted member of the clergy who had big dreams of progress and modernization for the Ministry and the world. he had a strong interest in Futurist art and philosophy.

Bp. Necropolitus Cracoviensis remembers: "...our relationship goes a long way back to the times before his papacy, that is when he was still a cardinal in my hometown, in Cracovia...(...) Although we had our share of juvenile recklessness - be it indulging his beloved cream pies - allegedly verging on six hundred sixty six portions a year but that must be a rumor I believe, or wild parties at the attic of seminary school (laughs) - even in his formative years, he remained a focused man of vision, looking far into the future, always addressing his people's needs and longings to keep our church together in those turbulent, rapidly changing times (...) there were so many temptations to syndicate among our good people (...) (...) We would sit down to studying exciting Futurist manifestos, sketched the blueprints of utopian metropoles, spiked with shiny skyscrapers stabbing at the heavens belly... Wantonly swollen zeppelins would to carry our gospel of indulgence to the farthest corners of the globe to summon and enslave. (...) Forged in nostalgia of steam and fire, this brave new world of ambition, vice, lust and greed - all so inherent to the enlightened modernity, was always with him through all these years. And it is now - when our church continues to grow stronger and wealthier under wise reign of Papa Emeritus III - that these visions may finally be witnessed and embraced in the preachings of 'Meliora' - his most contemporary and humane Encyclical." (https://www.facebook.com/thebandghost/posts/994031900615606)

those core values of ambition, vice, lust, and greed stayed with him when he became Papa. though he had a revolutionary spirit, he's actually described as "less rebellious" in Metal Myths. Terzo took his job as Papa very seriously, and he cared about being successful and achieving his goals. while he and Secondo certainly had vice, lust, and greed in common, it was Terzo's ambition that truly set him apart.

"It felt like the goal was to take Papa II's sense of modernity and remove the recklessness." Metal Myths: Ghost Pt. 2 (April 2022)

How would you describe the personality of Papa Emeritus III compared to his predecessors? NAMELESS GHOUL: "First of all, Papa Emeritus III is an entertainer! He loves projectors, he loves the public, and he loves success. The first Papa Emeritus was someone very rigid, very strict, and very solemn. A real son of a bitch! (laughs) To be honest, we don’t miss him at all! Papa Emeritus II was a pervert a little bit sadistic, and, in hindsight, I think he wasn’t very at ease on stage. He wasn’t a showman, unlike Papa Emeritus III! Him, he’s the guide we missed to rise up the quality of our shows, to reach the step above and communicate with our fans." (MyRock #44 (2017) translated from French by @ a-wandering-ghoulette)

unfortunately, his ambition eventually led him to become disillusioned and depressed.

Terzo looked forward to becoming Papa. he worked so hard for it his whole life, only to be confronted with the realization that his time as Papa --and therefore his achievements-- would be limited.

he was a nice guy, but he was also was egotistical. he was a showman and an intellectual, and he thought very highly of himself.

NAMELESS GHOUL: He's a little bit more chill. But obviously, all the Papas are definitely pompous assholes. INTERVIEWER: That's part of the job. SPECIAL GHOUL: That's one of the criterias, the prerequisites, that you have to be this sort of flamboyant diva, know-all, show-off. Metal Injection (September 2015)

his self-hatred came from his inability to be the person he wanted to be. it's not that he felt like he couldn't measure up, it's that he felt like he wasn't allowed to express his full potential. Terzo's mindset was "i know i'm good enough. and i could prove it if they would just let me." but he wasn't really in charge, and his vision was at odds with the goals of Sister Imperator.

Terzo felt so stifled, it makes sense that he became a "frustrated old guy who hates everyone, especially himself."

and i think this is the reason for the paradox of him having a kind, charming personality onstage and being unsociable offstage. he still gave it his all. he did the best he could with the time and resources he was allowed. that zealous man of the people was still in there somewhere. but he felt betrayed by the clergy, the organization he dedicated his life to. his career ended up being unfulfilling and he was ultimately really bitter about the way things turned out.

he was good. he never got to be great.

#long post sorry #papa emeritus iii #terzo #radley post #headcanon #i guess #analysis #sure #the band ghost lore #quotes #bishop necropolitus cracoviensis ii

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lev1hei1chou · 3 months ago

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Gossip Girl

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: Gojo judges people at a party Masterlist

"Do you think he actually believes that comb-over is fooling anyone?" Gojo whispered, leaning down to your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

You giggled, trying to stifle the sound with your hand. "I know, right? It's like the hair is trying to escape his head."

Gojo snorted, straightening up and taking a sip of his drink. "And look at her over there," he continued, nodding towards a woman in a neon pink dress that hugged her in all the wrong places. "I swear, Barbie called and she wants her dress back."

You nearly choked on your drink, doubling over in laughter. "Stop it! You're going to get us caught," you managed between breaths, wiping away tears of mirth.

Gojo grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey, we're just here to observe the high society in its natural habitat. Think of it as research."

"Research, huh?" you replied, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly are we researching?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then flashed you a brilliant smile. "The limits of human taste and the fascinating ways people choose to ignore them."

You nudged him playfully. "You're terrible, you know that?"

"I try," he said with a wink. "But seriously, look at that guy over there. Is he wearing socks with sandals?"

You turned to see a middle-aged man obliviously chatting away, indeed sporting the offensive footwear combination. "Oh my god," you whispered. "I thought that was just a myth."

"Nope, living proof right there," Gojo said, shaking his head in mock despair. "It's like witnessing a rare bird."

"A rare, fashion-challenged bird," you agreed, trying to keep a straight face.

As the evening wore on, the two of you continued your undercover mission, providing commentary on everything from questionable dance moves to over-the-top makeup choices. Gojo was in his element, his quick wit and sharp observations making you laugh harder than you had in weeks.

"Okay, new game," he announced suddenly. "Who do you think has the most scandalous secret here?"

You scanned the room thoughtfully. "Hmm, I'd say Mrs. Hikaru over there," you said, pointing discreetly to an older woman with a suspiciously young man hanging on her arm. "She looks like she's hiding something."

Gojo followed your gaze and nodded sagely. "Good choice. I'm going with Mr. Moustache over there," he said, indicating a man with a magnificent handlebar moustache. "No one grows a moustache like that without hiding some deep, dark secrets."

"Or a penchant for 19th-century fashion," you added, smirking.

Gojo laughed, then turned serious for a moment, looking at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "You know, I'm really glad we're here together. Makes this whole thing bearable."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "Me too," you admitted, smiling up at him. "It's way more fun with you."

He grinned, slipping an arm around your shoulders. "Of course it is. Who else could provide such witty banter?"

You leaned into him, feeling content and happy. "Well, you do have a gift," you teased.

"I know, right?" he said, pretending to be smug. "But don't sell yourself short. You're a pretty amazing partner in crime."

"Partner in crime, huh?" you repeated, liking the sound of it. "I think I can live with that."

"Good," Gojo said, giving you a quick squeeze. "Because I don't plan on letting you go anytime soon."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the noisy party faded away. It was just the two of you, in your own little world.

Then the moment was broken by a loud crash from across the room, where someone had knocked over a table full of drinks.

Gojo sighed dramatically. "And the award for the most graceful exit goes to..."

"That guy," you finished, both of you dissolving into laughter again.

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bunnwich · 21 days ago

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What kinds of things do people usually do for their birthdays? I don’t really know, will you help me figure it out?

Voicelines:

Summon: I wasn’t expecting everyone to make a big fuss but…I’m happy that you could make it!

Home: Before I go to bed I usually do something with my hair; saves me time in the morning. Grins

Home Transition 1: Hmm, this fancy lounge set showed up at my door the day before my birthday? I wonder who left it? Must be some sort of mistake.

Home Transition 2: Savanaclaw apparently has no Vice Housewarden I’m staying here in their old dorm room. Got it all to myself! Come to think of it, Savanaclaw's got a lot of rooms that are empty.

Home Transition 3: Leona seemed pretty knowledgeable about this symbol on my sweater. Something, something about the mark of the Night Queen’s guard? He goes on forever about that stuff when we play chess.

Home Transition - Login: Hey, I heard it’s a full moon tonight. Wanna sneak out and go see? There's a buncha cliffs in here where you can see the stars really well!

Home Transition - Groovy: Now that I’m required to go to these dumb morning Spelldrive practices, there’s not much time to get ready in the morning... When I manage to roll out of bed, it's just enough to let out my hair and get in my uniform.

Home Tap 1: I may have the ex-Vice Housewarden’s room to myself but...it's a revolving door ‘round here. Sigh All these guys are always getting hurt somehow.

Home Tap 2: Yume gave me some new mini plant pots for my birthday! With the natural lighting in Savanaclaw it's a much easier environment to grow herbs for my potions. Plus...it helps liven up this dusty ass room.

Home Tap 3: Leona’s been acting weirder than usual, He acts like he hates parties but according to Ruggie, he’s never missed one at the dorm. What a weirdo…

Home Tap 4: What’s with the slides you ask? Don’t ask about the slides, okay? …It’s a long story.

Home Tap 5: If I have time, I’ll clean up my appearance in the morning for classes. You know, brush my hair out, maybe a little makeup. Look…mornings are rough for me, okay?

Groovification: Yawn It’s my birthday isn’t it? Thanks but- I’m gonna use it as an excuse to sleep in a little longer…

Home Tap - Groovy: In Savanaclaw it’s tradition for all the guys to come to the room of the “birthday boy's” at midnight. For such rowdy, boneheads the guys here have such soft underbellies…

Duo:

[YUU]: Ugh. What is it now, Leona?

[LEONA]: Hm? Can’t a guy help out his cute underclassmen, Yuu?

Birthday Login Message: Oh, yeah I guess it’s my birthday today. Shh, not so loud! The guys here are already so nosy. Oh, they're already planning something? And they invited you? Okay fine, what did you bring me?

Now that you're here might as well stay for the bonfire tonight. There'll be plenty of grilled meat…Yume’s bringing smores if we're lucky. Here…the stars are brighter than at any other dorm. Heh, guess being out in the wild has it's perks sometimes.

#Can you believe this is my first Yuu birthday card to Duo with Leona??#twst #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twst art #twst fanart #yuuta midori #disney twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #bunnwich art🐇#I made this in 2 days forgive the quality...

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arc-misadventures · 1 month ago

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Care to Share a Drink?

Jaune Arc was walking back from the training halls tired from another grueling training regime. Since becoming a, Specialist, Jaune had taken several courses to broaden his expertise; both in functioning, and technical training.

It was good to widen his expertise as a, Specialist, and he may be taking in all this new information like a sponge, but a sponge can only absorb so much in before it starts to leak out.

Now, Jaune was tired. He needed to relax, and just destress himself for all the worries that weighed him down. He was having a day off tomorrow, maybe he could...

: Hey, Jaune!

Jaune: Hmm...?

Jaune turned around to see the ever smiling, Clover Ebi approaching him.

Jaune: Oh, hey, Clover. What's up?

Clover: Just wanted to ask if you wanted to go out for a drink?

Jaune: A drink?

Clover: Yeah, there's this bar I like to go to, I thought you would enjoy some male bounding. I would have invited you sooner, but we were so busy with everything. Besides, you look like you need someplace to relax for a bit.

Jaune: Oh, is anyone joining us?

Clover: Naww... I asked everyone else; Marrow, can't hold a drink for the life of him. Vine is a tea nut. Elm, likes those fruity drinks, the bar we're going to doesn't have those. Harriet said she was busy doing some paperwork with, Winter. And, Winter... Ya know.

Jaune: I know, Clover, I know.

Jaune: Sure... I wouldn't mind having a drink with you.

Clover: Alright then, let's go!

Jaune: Do they have any good bar food there? I'm starving.

~~~

Clover: So here we are, Jaune! The Squeaky Cog! Best bar in all of, Mantle!

Jaune: I thought we would be going to a bar in, Atlas, not one in, Mantle.

Clover: Nahh, there are plenty of decent bars in, Atlas. But, this place... it has a more homely feel to it, feels more lived in then the bars in, Atlas which feel sterile.

Jaune: Ahh, a by product of the whole, Colour Wars, eh?

Clover: Yeah, pretty much. Now come on, let's get a drink!

The pair walked over to the bar, and took a seat. Jaune grabbed the menu, and gave it a quick glance, finding a item he wouldn't mind eating. The barkeeper shortly came to them, and asked if they wanted anything.

Clover: I'll have a beer, and the chili fries.

Jaune: I'll have the... fish and chips, and a scotch on the rocks.

The bartender took their orders before walking away, as he left, Jaune busied himself with a bowl of pretzels.

Clover: A scotch on the rocks? I didn't take you for the type.

Jaune: A simple beer, thought you had more class.

Clover: I tend to have whisky after a reward for a rough day, for this a simple beer will do.

Jaune: I'd take a vodka myself if I wanted something simple. But, it's been a while since I had a drink, so I'll take a scotch.

Jaune thanked the barkeeper when he brought them their drinks. He swirled his drink watching the ice cube move about his drink. He took a sip letting out a satisfying breath of air as he did.

Jaune: That's smooth... I was told by some of the locals while I was walking about, Mantle that Mantilian Scotch is really good; That's a hell of an understatement.

Clover: Really? Maybe I should try it, and maybe you can try a beer too.

Jaune: Actual piss has more flavour in it than that piss in a bottle.

Clover laughed at, Jaune's little jab, he looked at, Jaune a serious look crossing his face.

Clover: Uhh... listen, Jaune...

Jaune: Is this where you ask me questions about my relationship with, Winter, or are we going to talk about you, and Harriet instead?

Clover stopped in his tracks, looking dumbfounded at, Jaune who just gave him an inquisitive eyebrow in return.

Jaune: Well?

Clover closed his mouth before giving, Jaune an amazed, yet scared look.

Clover: Again, you notice way too much, and it's scary how much you do.

Jaune laughed as he spun the ice cup around in his drink.

Jaune: Relax, Clover. I've been expecting you to ask me about you two since I caught you making your way to the, Ever Light Hotel~!

Clover: Hey! Keep it quiet about... the hotel!

Jaune gave another light laugh before taking another sip of his drink.

Jaune: Okay, Clover; Let's play a little game then shall we?

Clover: What kind of game?

Jaune: I ask you a question about you, and Harriet. Then you ask me a question about me, and Winter. You game.

Clover: Okay. I'm game... You first.

Jaune: Oh good, because I've been wondering for weeks now; How the hell did you two get together?

Clover: Ahh... Well... before you joined us, the Specialist, we already had six members... But, we lost one, his name was, Tortuga.

Jaune: Tortuga... I remember hearing, Harriet saying that name... She said, 'I was good, but I wasn't anything compared to, Tortuga.' Is that why, Harriet hates me? Because, I'm some sort of replacement of this, Tortuga fellow?

Clover: Kinda. Harriet, and Tortuga always had this older brother, younger sister dynamic to them. So when, Tortuga died, Harriet lost her 'big brother.' She didn't take it well...

Jaune: I can understand that. I have seven older sisters... I can barely handle the thought of losing one of them...

Clover: Well as it's my job as team leader to help my teammates. So, I talked with her, consoled her, and was just there for her when she needed it. A shoulder to cry on, a face to scream at. A friend.

Clover: Then one day, the whole team went here to relax, and have a drink, and while the rest of the team slowly went home one after another, bunch of light weights the lot of them! Harriet, and I stayed there getting absolutely waisted... Then...

Jaune: You woke up in each others arms in an uncompromising position?

Clover: Uhh... ahh.. yeah... that's pretty much it...

Jaune laughed at, Clovers face as it was flushed red from embarrassment.

Clover: There was some awkwardness between the two of us. But, we managed to work it out, and we've been dating in secret for about two months now.

Jaune: Why in secret; is there something against, Specialist dating each other?

Clover: No, there isn't any rule. We just don't want the others to know, I mean if, Elm finds out about us, we'll never hear the end of it!

The pair shared a short laugh that ended when the bartender brought them their meals. The duo thanked the bartender before they went back to their conversation.

Clover: Okay, it's my turn... How the hell did you get together with, Winter freaking Schnee? I mean... I've know, Winter for years, but she never struck me as the type who would be interested in dating anyone. Much less you.

Jaune: Rude...

Jaune nonchalantly replied while enjoying the fries on his fish, and chips. He quite liked the mixed spices they were using.

Clover: I don't mean to be rude, It's just... you seem so... so simple.

Jaune: I guess that's what she likes about me.

Clover: You guess?

Jaune: I don't know, or really understand why they like me. I was just being myself with them; honest, open, being an absolute dork... Honestly, I haven't the faintest clue how those two fell for me. I've flirted with woman before, and I was absolute trash! Like what the fuck was I thinking?!

Clover: Everyone was an idiot when it comes to flirting.

Clover commented this as he was shoveling his chili froes into his mouth.

Jaune: That was a year ago...

Clover: Pfft?!

Clover soon developed into a small coughing fit, before grabbing his beer, and chugging it down.

Clover: (Cough, cough, cough!) Serious, you went to being a loser who couldn't flirt with a girl for the life of them, to having, Winter Schnee fawning all over you?!

Jaune: Yeah, I don't understand it either...

Jaune dipped his fish into the hollandaise sauce, marveling at how nice it tasted. He also flagged down the bartender over to get, Clover another beer.

Jaune: Honestly if feel like I'm just standing there, and some hot girl looks at me like: "Haha! What's a dork!"

Jaune: "I must have him for my own."

Clover: Seriously?

Jaune: It's happened at least four times, two in the past two weeks... Okay, my turn: What's up with, Harriet?

Clover: What do you mean?

Jaune: Harriet's been looking a little queasy lately... Did any... definitions of 'lucky' happen?

Clover: Huw...?!

Clover dropped his fork in shock at the implications at, Jaune's honest question.

Clover: ...?!

Jaune: Well?

Clover: No! N-N-Nothing like that at all! She's just sick from bad fish, I swear! We had it checked! She's not pregnant!

Jaune: Then you better keep using those condoms, or birth control. I don't think you two want that to happen... Yet?

Clover: Well... I wouldn't mind it happening eventually... but, there's too much going on right now...

Jaune: Well, regardless of what happens, I wish you two the best of luck! Not from just your semblance.

Jaune raised his drink in the air before, Clover raised his in the air for a salute. Jaune then finished his drink, asking the barkeeper for another.

Clover: My turn?

Jaune nodded as he finished the last remnants of his meal.

Clover: Okay... When I asked you about you, and Winter. You kept saying, 'they:' Why?

Jaune: Ahh... I'm not gonna lie to you, Clover... but, I'm stuck within a love triangle between two woman.

Clover: You're... in love triangle...?

Jaune: Yep.

Clover: Seriously?

Jaune: Yep!

Jaune gave, Clover a dead serious look as he answered him. Popping the, P to emphasize his point.

Clover: How...?!

Jaune: I don't understand how these things happen to me either.

Clover: Between who?

Jaune: Winter Schnee, and Robyn Hill...

Clover: Robyn Hill?! She's into you? Again, how?

Jaune: Not sure. My best bet is that I was honest with her. Robyn's semblance lets her decern truth from lies. I can only guess what she went through to have a semblance such as that. But, I think saving her from a psycho faunas certainly helped.

Clover: Being the literal white knight saving the damsel...? Yeah, I bet that helped.

Jaune: Now the two of them have given me tokens of affection, and I have no idea what to do...

Clover: The sash, and that falcon pin?

Jaune: Lucky guess.

The pair shared a laugh before continuing their stories.

Jaune: Now the worst part is, is that they both know the other likes me, and they've both stacked their 'claims' on me. I'm literally stuck between two badass huntresses who could beat my ass, who are more than willing to fight each other tooth, and nail to get me! I have no idea how to navigate any of this!! And, worse of all: It's fucking hot that I have two beautiful, wonderful woman fighting over me!

Clover: Do you know which one you want to be with?

Jaune: I don't know... They're both among the greatest, and most beautiful people I've ever met! And, as much as I've enjoyed their rather, forceful kiss's. I want to be the one to steal their breath away with a kiss. But, I have no experience when it comes to the affairs of the heart, so I haven't got a damn clue on what to do... And, it's as you said, there is too much going on right now to worry about such things...

Clover: But, if you had to choose: Who would you pick?

Jaune shrugged his shoulders before looking at, Clover.

Jaune: Both?

Clover snorted as he smacked, Jaune on his shoulder before slapping a pile of credits on the bar top after finishing he second beer.

Clover: It's on me. Now come on, let's back to base.

Jaune finished his scotch before getting up, and following, Clover out of the bar.

Jaune: This was nice. Thanks for inviting me, Clover. We should do this again. Only this time, drinks are on me.

Clover: Looking forward to it.

#rwby #jaune arc #clover ebi #harriet bree #vine zeki #marrow amin #elm ederne #winter schnne #robyn hiil #jaune x winter #winter x jaune #robyn x jaune #jaune x robyn #rwby winterknight #rwby sherwood knight

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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 27 days ago

Text

Over the Limit-pt.vi

jenna ortega x female reader

summary: Sibling fights, pool parties, and drunk college kids. What could go wrong?

word count: 11.4k

warnings: drinking, mentions of drug use, implications of sexual assault (does not happen)

a/n: My plans for this chapter changed a lot from any q&a’s I’ve answered….Thank you for being patient! Hope you enjoy😌 If anyone is in LA or has loved ones there I hope you’re all safe 💜

————

“So what’s his name?”

Hunter turns to you with a raised brow, “Are we really doing this?”

After Aliyah’s suggestion—that was more an order to go to UCLA, you found yourself driving to the acclaimed university. You check the rear view mirror and confirm that the two sisters are knocked out (as it’s now 9pm) before you answer Hunter.

“Well yeah? You know about my Viper situation brewing back there,” you roll your eyes with a laugh quoting his exact words from earlier. “Come onnn!” you whine.

“Oh so you do admit there’s a situation,” Hunter fires back, clearly trying to regain the upper hand. But you hold your ground, unfazed by his teasing—a skill you’ve definitely honed over the course of this road trip. He groans but you can see the blush creeping on his face at the mention of his forbidden lover. “Fine his name is Fielder.”

“Hmm weird name. So you guys dating or is it just sex?” you say getting straight to the point.

“Dude!”

“What! I saw the toothbrush in your bathroom,” you smile. “I’m happy for you man. If you want to be with him or whatever.”

“I-I don’t know," he hesitates. "I really like him, but he’s a Viper and you know what that means."

You glance at him, then take one hand off the wheel to give his shoulder a firm squeeze. “Time to take your own advice, buddy,” you say, your voice steady. “Remember what you told me back then?

‘That’s half the thrill.’

‘When have you ever avoided doing something just because it’s not allowed?’

Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your own words of wisdom.”

Hunter exhales, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah, I remember,” he mumbles, but you can see the gears turning in his head.

"Dating is different when you get older," he shares after a moment of silence. "You don't really want to mess around with the forbidden just for the fuck of it. It's like the real deal now," he sighs. "Have your fun while you can, because it doesn't last forever."

You take a moment to really absorb Hunter's words. Was he implying that Jenna was just a phase in your life? Something forbidden you were testing out for the thrill of it? You’re almost certain he didn’t mean it that way, but you hate that he planted the thought in your head. Because you knew for a fact that you never saw Jenna as a fleeting moment. An act of rebellion or someone to mess around with.

The thought shakes you, and the weight of your emotions for the girl asleep in the backseat begins to sink in. It terrifies you—realizing just how much she truly means to you.

You weren’t in the mood for a deep, philosophical conversation right now, so you deflected with some light banter instead. “You’re not that much older than me, what—four, five years tops?”

“Eight,” Hunter deadpans, followed by a dry laugh. “And here I am, heading to a college town to party like I’m still eighteen,” he mutters, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

"Whoa party? Who said anything about partying?" you ask confused.

"Come on, you can't expect us to go to UCLA for the weekend—mind you exam season just finished. And you don't want us to party?"

"There is possibly a drug cartel hunting us down...and you want to party?"

"Yup," he answers, popping the P with an unbothered grin.

————

"Please tell me we're there," Aliyah yawns, stretching her arms out above her. "I can't stand another moment in this car."

"Technically it's an SUV," you mutter under your breath, earning a tired glare from the backseat. "But yeah, we’re almost there. Where am I headed?"

"Hold on let me text Markus real quick."

Again with that name. Before you could flip your mind over wondering who this guy was, you hear Jenna stir in the backseat, her voice groggy as she asked Aliyah, "how long was I out?"

Okay new obsession: Jenna's tired voice. It made your heart do a little flip.

Hunter looks over at you and he rolls his eyes. Why you still deny the fact that you have feelings for this girl is beyond him. He wanted to smack you across the face and ask you if you thought it was normal to get worked up over someone's sleepy voice. It was evident in the way your eyebrows jumped and the stupid smile on your lips. You obviously had feelings for the girl and everyone but you and Jenna could see it.

"Okay Y/n go to 350 De Neve drive," Aliyah shares upon getting the address.

You still had no idea where you were going, but you give a nod to Hunter to put in the address the girl gave.

Finally, not being able to stand it anymore, you ask the question that's been annoying you for the last two hours. "Who's Markus?"

“Our brother,” Jenna answers, glancing up at the rearview mirror where your eyes have been lingering throughout the whole drive.

Her sleepy voice almost distracted you from what she just said. Oh. That explains a lot. Silly old you getting jealous over nothing. Markus was their damn brother. You smile and nod. "Ahh okay, I see."

"What's with the smile Y/l/n?" Hunter teases you, knowing exactly why.

You don't respond and shoot him a side eye. "So is this a younger or older brother?"

"He's my twin," Aliyah mumbles, her attention stolen by something on her phone.

That didn't answer your question. But you still decide to engage in some small talk with Jenna just because you can, and totally not because you wanted to hear more of her tired voice.

"So are you the youngest Jenna?"

This time, Aliyah takes her eyes off her phone and bursts out laughing.

"Pffft—please! I’m dead!" she howls, clearly finding your question hilarious.

"Am I the youngest?" Jenna bites back, her tired voice now laced with a touch of sass. The combination is absolutely killer, and for a split second, you forget how to breathe. But your brain catches up quickly, and you realize you might have more pressing issues to worry about.

"Have you thought all this time that Aliyah is older than me?" she adds, her eyes narrowing playfully at the rearview mirror.

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. “Wait, what? I—uhh—well, yeah, kind of?” You try to backpedal, feeling your face flush slightly. "I mean, she seems older."

Aliyah bursts into laughter again, practically doubling over in the back seat. "Oh my god, I can't believe you thought that! You really think I'm the older one?"

Jenna shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Nope. I’m their older sister."

Your eyes widen, and you glance over at Jenna, who looks far too small to be the older sibling. “But… you’re so tiny?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Jenna raises an eyebrow, her tired eyes turning into what you think is an amused glare. "Excuse me? Tiny?"

You instantly regret your words, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “I mean, you’re just… small compared to Aliyah! I thought she was the older one.”

It was now Hunter's turn to place a hand on your shoulder. "Please shut up before she starts ignoring you again."

————

“Marki-poo!” Aliyah coos running towards a guy that stood quite taller than her with dark hair.

It was around half past nine when you all finally arrived at what you now learned to be Markus’ dorm building.

While the sisters reunited with their brother, you and Hunter climbed out of the SUV that was parked on the road, both of you stretching to shake off the stiffness of hours on the freeway. The cool night air was refreshing, but your attention quickly drifted to Markus. As your eyes flicked toward him, you froze mid-stretch.

Holy shit. He was the spitting image of Jenna. Same piercing eyes, same sharp jawline, and even a similar smile. It was uncanny, and for a moment, you felt like the universe was playing some cosmic joke, doubling down on how much one family could mess with your head.

Before you could ruminate further, Markus noticed you and Hunter lingering by the SUV and waved. His grin widened as he called out, “Hey! You must be Y/n and Hunter. Aliyah and Jenna wouldn’t shut up about you guys over text.”

Aliyah rolled her eyes, while Jenna shot him a wide glare.

You blinked, caught off guard by his friendly tone. “Uh, yeah, that’s us,” you replied, trying to sound casual as you walked over.

“I bet you must love the freedom being away from home," Jenna asks out of the blue while she gazes around the campus mindlessly soaking everything in.

Her voice drew your gaze like a magnet, and for a split second, you forgot anyone else was there.

What was going on with you? Why was her voice making you feel all strange? It wasn't like this before, and even if it was you were at least able to hide it.

Hunter cleared his throat, clearly enjoying your inability to stay cool around Jenna.

“So, what’s the plan?” Hunter asked, breaking the tension.

Markus gestured toward the dorm building. “I’ve got room for all of you to crash if you’re staying the night. It’s a bit of a squeeze, but it beats sleeping in the car.”

Aliyah clapped her hands together, grinning. “Perfect! Let’s get inside. I need to pee, and I’m not doing it in some random gas station bathroom.”

As everyone started heading toward the entrance with their packed bags, Jenna fell into step beside you. Her shoulder brushed yours, and even though it was likely unintentional, it sent your heart racing.

“Thanks for bringing us here,” she said quietly, her voice soft but sincere. “I know this whole trip is a lot. But we haven’t seen Markus in forever.”

You glanced at her, momentarily caught off guard by the genuine gratitude in her tone. “It not that bad,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Besides, it’s not like I had much of a choice.”

Jenna smirked, the corners of her lips tugging upward in a way that made your chest tighten. “Fair enough.”

As the group disappeared through the dorm’s entrance, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was far from over—and that Markus wasn’t the only surprise waiting for you at UCLA.

————

"We need to set them up."

The group makes their trek to Markus' dorm, with the twins up at front, Hunter following in the middle, and Jenna and you walking side by side in the back.

Aliyah decides that she needs to take the reigns for this weekend and enlist her brother's help for something that needs to be done.

"Jenna and Y/n?" He asks, turning back to look at you both.

"—Don't look at them!" she snaps slapping her brother on the arm. "You can't make it obvious."

Markus just looks at her dumbfounded.

“Those two are so into each other, it’s painful to watch. They need to just make out already or something! I’m losing my mind over here.”

“Make out?” Markus repeats, his voice incredulous.

“Yes! Or, like, hold hands—anything! I’m sick of the constant eye-fucking!” she whisper-yells, gesturing dramatically.

“Eye-fucking?”

“Yes, Markus, eye-fucking!” Aliyah says, her tone exasperated as if explaining basic math to a toddler. “Now, what can we do to speed this along? How do college kids even date these days?”

"Uhm I don't know...they meet in class, ask for their snap, or they meet at parties—"

"That's it!" Aliyah shrieks in excitement before she quickly clasps her hand over her mouth, worried she was too loud. "Please tell me there's a party going on tonight?"

"Tonight?" Markus whispers back. "Come on sis, don't you think we should let them relax or something? We can figure this out tomorrow."

"Tonight Markus." She repeats sternly. Markus knew better than to defy his persistent sister. He sighs, "Yeah I know of one."

"Perfect!”

————

"Absolutely the fuck not Aliyah! Are you crazy?!"

The group finally made it to the dorm in one piece, and much to your relief, the tuition prices definitely matched the size of the dorms. It seemed like there was enough space for all five of you, and the best part? Markus had no roommate. Score.

After Aliyah rushes in to use the bathroom, you follow suit, eager to freshen up. You can hear a bit of commotion from the room—the sounds of people getting settled in, and some oddly loud talking—but you think nothing of it. That is, until you step out of the bathroom to the unmistakable sound of shouting.

You freeze.

Jenna and Aliyah are going at it, voices raised and words flying in a heated argument. Whatever was happening, it was definitely not a friendly sibling exchange.

"Oh my god," the younger sister drawls, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's just a party, why not?"

You remain at the door, not daring to take a step forward. Your eyes turn to Jenna, waiting for her response. Her eyebrow twitches and she suddenly smiles, but there's no humour behind it. "Why not?"

"Why not, Aliyah?" she responds, her voice dangerously calm. "Why not?"

She takes a step forward, her tone growing colder, sharper.

"Just because—"

Just because what?" Jenna interrupts. "Just because I’m the one who had to step up and pull you out of that mess?"

You notice Aliyah's deameanour slightly falter. Her lips slightly frowning.

"You think I like this shit? You wanna make the same mistakes again, just because you want to go to some stupid college party!" Jenna continues.

You, Markus, and Hunter exchange nervous glances, unsure of when to intervene without getting caught in the crossfire.

"I didn’t ask you to do that for me!" Aliyah finally gets out, her voice rising with defiance.

Jenna’s expression hardens, her words cutting through the air like a knife.

"Yeah, you’re right. You didn’t. But Dad did," Jenna spits the words out, her voice growing more heated with every syllable. "And I had no choice but to put my life on hold and pick up the pieces of your mess. So don’t act like it’s nothing. Don’t you dare act like I’m overreacting, Aliyah. You think I want to keep doing this? You think I want to keep cleaning up after you?"

Holy shit, how much did you miss while in the bathroom? Everything was fine just a few moments ago, how things escalated so fast baffled you.

"Fuck you," Aliyah spits out, her voice trembling as her glossy eyes reflect the anger and hurt beneath the surface. She storms past you, brushing your shoulder, and disappears out of the dorm room before anyone can stop her.

As you’re left standing awkwardly near the door, your eyes instinctively flick to Jenna, who’s still fuming, her chest rising and falling with each sharp breath. She looks like she’s barely holding it together.

But before you can even think about what to do, you notice Hunter and Markus already moving toward her. Hunter places a tentative hand on Jenna’s shoulder, his voice soft as he tries to calm her down. Markus, standing nearby, looks just as lost for words but ready to step in if needed.

Your gaze lingers on Jenna for a moment longer, watching the tension in her jaw and the way she refuses to let her emotions fully break through. Part of you wants to stay, to say something, to comfort her—but it’s clear she’s not alone. Hunter and Markus are already there for her.

The decision was obvious. With a deep breath, you step out into the hallway, following after Aliyah.

You can still hear the muffled voices of Hunter and Markus trying to talk Jenna down as you close the door behind you, leaving the tension of the dorm room behind. But even as you head down the hall, your mind keeps replaying Jenna’s words, the raw emotion in her voice, and the hurt etched into Aliyah’s face.

You sigh, shaking your head. This weekend’s already off to one hell of a start.

————

"Holy shit Aliyah! Slow down would you!" you shout after her as you see her enter the elevator.

You barely make it in time before the doors shut and you're panting while the girl remains silent, as you both wait for the elevator to reach the ground floor.

Neither of you say anything. She walks on the side walk away from the building and you follow a step behind her. There were other students out at this time, it wasn't too late—only around 10pm now. After some more aimless walking she finally plops down on a bench under a streetlight.

You linger for a moment before cautiously sitting down beside her, keeping a bit of space between you. She says nothing, and for a while, you both just sit there, the faint buzz of campus life in the background.

Finally, you break the silence. "Aliyah… you okay?"

She scoffs, wiping at her eyes quickly. "Do I look okay?" Her voice is sharp, but there’s no real venom behind it.

You don’t answer right away, watching her instead. "No," you admit softly. "You don’t. But… do you want to talk about it?"

You hear her sniffle and you turn to face her. She's wiping her eyes now with a sad smile on her face. "I don't even know why I'm crying, she's not wrong you know?"

"I doubt that's true," you offer gently. "She's just worried of losing you. Or seeing you make choices that could...you know, hurt you," you suggest, recalling the information you heard in the argument earlier.

"She didn’t say anything I didn’t already know. But hearing her say it—it hurts. She didn’t have to throw that in my face."

You nod slowly, understanding dawning. "You mean about the Vipers?"

Her head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing. "She told you?"

"No," you say quickly, raising your hands in defense. "She didn’t. That’s her story to tell, and I guess she’ll tell me when she’s ready. But… it’s not hard to figure out that there’s more to this than just a party."

The crying girl clears her throat before leaning back into the bench. “She could’ve told you. She probably didn’t tell you for my sake.”

You tilt your head confused, giving Aliyah your full attention.

“You’ll have to know this anyways if you’re going to date my sister and shut up I don’t wanna hear it. Let me explain.”

You laugh at her comment. How she knew you’d deny potentially dating her sister. But sensing the seriousness of the topic you zip your lips and listen, waiting for your long awaited questions to be answered.

“I’m sure you’ve gathered by now that Jenna is with the Vipers because of me.”

You softly nod.

“A few years ago,” she sighs recalling the night.

————

Aliyah was buzzing, the world around her a kaleidoscope of music, neon lights, and laughter. The bass thumped through her veins as she swayed to the beat, a red plastic cup in her hand. She wasn’t entirely sure what was in it—something strong, something that burned on the way down. Her "friends" had handed it to her earlier with a wink and a “just try it.”

It wasn’t her first party, but it was her first big one. College kids, flashy cars parked outside, and a house way too nice for a bunch of teenagers to be trashing. Percy had been the one to invite her, his charming smile making it seem like she’d be missing out on the event of the year if she didn’t show up.

“Aliyah!” Percy’s voice cut through the music. She turned, almost stumbling as the alcohol hit her harder than expected. He stood there, grinning, a bottle of something expensive-looking in one hand. “Having fun?”

“Yeah!” she replied, her words slightly slurred.

“Good, good,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulder and steering her toward a quieter corner of the house. “Hey, you gotta try this.”

Aliyah blinked at the small pill he held out to her. “What is it?”

“Just something to help you relax,” he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “Everyone’s doing it. No big deal.”

Normally, she would’ve said no. Normally, she wouldn’t have even been at a party like this. But the alcohol dulled her judgment, and Percy’s grin made it seem harmless. She hesitated for only a moment before taking the pill and swallowing it with a sip from her cup.

The next few hours were a blur. Colors seemed brighter, music louder, and her body lighter. She laughed at things that weren’t funny and danced until her legs felt like jelly. At some point, Percy led her upstairs, saying she needed to “rest.” She remembered collapsing onto a plush bed, her head spinning, and Percy’s shadow lingering in the doorway.

When she woke up the next morning, her phone was buzzing with texts from Jenna. But it was Percy’s smirk and the way he casually mentioned “having some footage” of her wild night that made her stomach drop.

“You wouldn’t want your dad seeing this, would you?” he’d said with a mockingly sweet tone.

That night changed everything.

————

"Hold on—did that asshole fucking—" you begin to demand, your voice low but trembling with barely contained fury. Your fists clench instinctively, already mapping out how you were gonna beat Percy's ass.

"No! No," she insists, her voice steadying as she places a hand on your arm, as if to keep you tethered. "Thank God, no. But..." Her gaze drops to the ground, shame flickering across her face. "Turns out it was a Viper party, he had footage of me taking whatever it was he gave me. And—" She swallows hard, her voice barely above a whisper, "he planted stuff on me too. Drugs. Enough to ruin everything if anyone found out."

The weight of her words sinks in, and your anger twists into something darker—colder. "That slimy, manipulative piece of shit," you mutter, pacing a few steps away before turning back to her. "He set you up."

Aliyah nods, hugging her arms to herself as if trying to shield herself from the memory.

"Sorry if this comes of rather insensitive but rich kid doing drugs doesn't really strike me as a headline. You see that shit everyday. Would it really have ruined everything?"

"My Dad's a dick. He didn't want it effecting his company. And unfortunately in his world it's a big deal." She pauses before continuing, "Percy just wanted leverage. Something to use against Dad." Her voice breaks, and she exhales shakily. "Dad handled it, but..."

"But that’s when Jenna got pulled into this mess," you finish for her, the realization hitting like a freight train.

Aliyah nods again, her eyes glassy. "Yeah. Dad made her join the Vipers to keep an eye on Percy and make sure he kept his word. But it wasn’t just that." She hesitates, biting her lip before continuing. "Jenna found out Percy made her joining the crew part of his deal. Like he wanted to make sure he had control over us both. And Dad said yes without hesitation."

The depth of Percy’s manipulation and the selfishness of the girls' father makes your stomach churn. You no longer felt any guilt for stealing that assholes car.

"And Jenna agreed?" you ask quietly, already knowing the answer.

"She didn’t have a choice," Aliyah whispers, her voice cracking. "Dad wouldn’t let me take the fall, and Jenna...she’s too loyal. She put herself in the line of fire for me."

You sink onto the bench beside her, running a hand through your hair as the weight of it all settles in. "Aliyah...this isn’t your fault," you say softly, though you’re not sure if you’re convincing her or yourself.

"It feels like it is," she murmurs, staring at her hands. "If I hadn’t been so stupid that night—"

"Stop." Your tone is firm but gentle. "Percy’s the one who’s to blame here. He’s the asshole who exploited you and dragged Jenna into this mess. Not you."

She doesn’t respond, but the way her shoulders shake tells you she’s trying to hold back tears. You reach out, hesitating for a moment before placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We’ll figure this out, Aliyah. We have the leverage we need. We’ll get Jenna out of this. I promise."

For the first time since the argument, she looks at you, her eyes glistening with vulnerability. "You mean that?"

"More than anything."

The two of you sit in silence after the night’s heavy revelations. It’s not awkward—if anything, it feels like the silence is exactly what you both need. As you sit on the bench, you watch students pass by in the soft glow of the campus lights. Some walk alone, weighed down by heavy backpacks and heavier thoughts. Others are carefree, laughing and chatting with friends, their steps light as air. A few move with quiet confidence, calm and steady.

You wonder, not for the first time, what your life might have been like if you hadn’t been born in Brimstone. Would you have been one of these students? What version of you would have existed here, unburdened by everything that came with your hometown?

“I guess…I can see why your sister was upset,” you say finally, breaking the silence.

Aliyah doesn’t respond right away, but she nods, the motion just visible from the corner of your eye.

“But,” you add with a small smile, “that was two years ago. You deserve another chance.” You turn to her, flashing a grin. “And besides, you’ve got me, Hunter, and Markus watching your back now.” You flex your arms dramatically. “No idea about those two, but nothing gets past me.”

She snorts, a laugh bubbling up despite herself. “Please, put those away. You’re going to embarrass us both.”

Her laughter softens, and when she turns to you, there’s a seriousness in her expression that catches you off guard. “I really hope it works out between you and my sister,” she says quietly.

The words hit you harder than you expect, leaving you momentarily speechless. It’s still complicated—still messy. But something about Aliyah’s vulnerability tonight makes it easier to let the thought cross your mind, even if you can’t voice it aloud.

For now, you settle for the truth that feels safest to admit, even if only to yourself.

I hope so too.

————

You’re greeted by the sight of the Ortega sisters wrapped in a tight embrace near the curb. Their voices are low, but the murmured apologies and soft laughter carry in the quiet night.

Jenna’s voice breaks through, her tone unusually tender. “No, I should’ve given you a chance. I didn’t have to be so mean, Aliyah. I’m sorry.”

Aliyah sniffles, her own voice equally apologetic. “I was wrong too. I should’ve listened to you. You’re just trying to look out for me.”

The rest of you—Hunter, Markus, and yourself—watch the heartwarming spectacle from the bench you were on moments ago with Aliyah. You exchange incredulous looks, eyebrows raised in unison.

“They’re hugging,” you point out, still processing.

“Like…full-on hugging,” Markus adds, as if needing confirmation.

Hunter leans back, crossing his arms. “I don’t know what’s more shocking—the fact that they stopped yelling or that they’re acting like this never happened.”

You snort, shaking your head. It’s kind of funny, really, how quickly they’ve gone from shouting to sobbing on each other’s shoulders. You glance at Hunter and Markus, a knowing thought crossing your mind. Just like your talk with Aliyah, it’s clear they must’ve said something to Jenna. Whatever it was, it worked, and you’re quietly grateful for it.

“They’re like a Netflix drama,” Markus muses. “Big fight in episode nine, full reconciliation by episode ten.”

Hunter chuckles. “They’re efficient, I’ll give them that.”

You smile to yourself, watching the sisters. It’s a relief to see them like this, to see the tension replaced with understanding. For all their differences, their bond is unshakable, and tonight, that’s clearer than ever.

“Efficient’s good,” you remark softly. “We could all use a little more of that.”

The three of you fall into a comfortable silence, still seated on the bench, content to let the moment play out. It’s been a long day, but for the first time in hours, it feels like everything might just turn out okay.

Your thoughts drift as the sisters continue to talk, the quiet laughter between them like the perfect breeze after a tense day. The closest you’ve ever had to something like that is Anton. It’s not quite the same—he isn’t your sibling, not by blood anyway, but he’s always been there, filling that role.

And yet, you and Anton aren’t like Jenna and Aliyah. When you two fight, it doesn’t end with quick apologies or mutual understanding. No, you’ve gone days without speaking. Weeks, even. Your disagreements have never been about anything as heavy as the sisters’ fight tonight, but they’ve been passionate all the same—mostly about the club.

You can still hear Anton’s voice in your head during your last big blow-up a few months ago—long before you met Jenna. “You think you’re above this? You think you’re better than the rest of us?” His words had stung, but so had your response. You’d called him reckless, accused him of not understanding your hesitations about racing, about the club, about everything it represented.

Looking back, you know you were both too stubborn to see the other’s perspective. And while things eventually smoothed over—like they always did—you can’t help but wonder if there’s still some lingering tension under the surface, something neither of you has addressed. And ever since that day he jokingly pulled that gun on you, ironically things have been calm. He probably thinks you're establishing yourself in the crew, and you don't know what to tell him.

Watching the sisters now, you feel a pang of envy. They’ve fought, sure, but they’ve also made their way back to each other in a way that feels effortless. You wonder if you and Anton could ever find that same ease, or if the unspoken disagreements between you will always weigh down your bond.

Hunter nudges you out of your thoughts. “You okay over there?”

You nod, shaking off the memory. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“About?”

You glance at the sisters, their shared laughter filling the night air. “How nice it must be to make up that fast,” you say simply.

Markus chimes in. “Don’t get too used to it. This is a rare sight.”

You laugh lightly, but the thought lingers. Maybe, just maybe, you and Anton could find that kind of understanding someday.

The sisters finally break their embrace and walk toward you, their expressions a mix of relief and mischief. Aliyah, ever the wildcard, claps her hands together and grins.

“Well, now that we’re done being dramatic, who’s ready to party?”

You glance at Jenna, who offers a small, almost shy smile, and then at Hunter and Markus. Surprisingly, no one objects. After the emotionally charged evening, maybe letting loose doesn’t sound so bad.

“Alright, let’s do it,” Hunter says, standing and stretching his arms.

As you all head back toward the dorm building, Markus throws a casual comment over his shoulder. “Hope you all packed swimsuits.”

The group collectively freezes, exchanging bewildered glances.

“Swimsuits?” Aliyah asks, narrowing her eyes.

Markus turns to smirk at her. “It’s a pool party. Did I not mention that?”

Your brain short-circuits. A pool party? Swimwear? Holy crap. Jenna in a bikini? You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, your face turning an embarrassing shade of red.

Oh god, what if she looks over here? you panic internally. Play it cool. Act normal. Breathe.

But the thought of Jenna, all confident and effortlessly beautiful, lounging poolside or—nope, nope, abort mission. You’re pretty sure your gay panic is written all over your face, and you try to busy yourself with looking anywhere but at her.

“Y/n?” Jenna’s voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts.

You snap your head toward her, your voice coming out a little too loud. “What? Yes! Pool party! Great idea. Love it.”

Jenna raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your overenthusiasm. “Uh-huh,” she says, her lips quirking into a small smile.

Aliyah gives you a knowing smirk but thankfully doesn’t say anything, and the group continues walking. You tug your shirt over your face, hoping to disappear into it.

————

"Why did you pack so many bikinis?" Jenna asks looking into her sister's duffel bag.

"I had a feeling that something like this would happen," Aliyah mutters, her full attention on the swim suit she’s holding up in front of her.

The top is a classic triangle style with thin straps that tie around the neck and back, offering a simple yet sultry design. The cups are just enough to leave something to the imagination while perfectly accentuating curves. The bottoms—equally bold.

Jenna's eyes narrow at the sight. "You're wearing that?"

"Nope. You are."

The older Ortega looked at her sister like she just said the most insane words known to man. "What?"

"You heard me. You're wearing it."

Jenna snorts, crossing her arms. "Not in this lifetime."

"Oh, come on!" Aliyah groans, dangling the bikini in front of Jenna like a carrot on a stick. "It’s cute, it’ll look amazing on you, and it’s a pool party. You’ll blend right in."

Jenna glares at her sister, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, because nothing says ‘blending in’ like wearing half an outfit."

Aliyah rolls her eyes, unbothered. "You’ll thank me when you’re the center of attention. Besides..." She leans in, lowering her voice just enough to add some drama. "I’m pretty sure a certain someone would love to see you in this."

Jenna’s face flushes instantly. She hated that she actually considered wearing it for a second.

She snatches the bikini from Aliyah’s hand and tosses it on the bed before her sister can say another word. "You’re impossible."

Aliyah beams triumphantly. "You'll be thanking me later."

————

Outside, you finish getting dressed, opting for a simple look. You stick with your black sports bra and borrow a pair of pink swim shorts from Hunter, not giving much thought to your outfit. With a casual shrug, you figure it’s good enough.

As you adjust the waistband of the shorts, Hunter glances down at your stomach, his eyes lingering a beat too long on your toned abs. He smirks and quips, "Someone’s definitely gonna appreciate those."

You roll your eyes, ignoring the comment as your face heats up slightly. Pulling on your zip-up hoodie, you tug it closed halfway, hoping to downplay any attention.

Hunter chuckles softly, clearly amused by your reaction.

Before you can retaliate, Markus strolls over, sighing dramatically as he collapses onto the edge of his bed. He looks at you with exaggerated seriousness, steepling his fingers like some kind of TV detective.

"I think, as a brother, I have to do this," Markus begins, his tone solemn but with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I’ve always done this with the guys Aliyah’s been into, so it only feels right to extend the same courtesy for Jenna."

Your stomach drops. Oh no. Is this really happening?

Markus straightens, folding his arms like a dad interrogating his daughter’s date. "What are your intentions with my sister?"

You freeze, blinking at him in horror. "What?"

Hunter chuckles, clearly finding this entire situation hilarious as he leans casually against the wall to watch the show.

"You heard me," Markus presses, his expression still annoyingly serious. "Jenna’s my sister. I need to know you’re not playing games. So, what are your intentions?"

You gulp, the words catching in your throat. You glance at Hunter for backup, but he just shrugs with a grin, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

"I…" you start, feeling your face grow hotter by the second. You will yourself to stay calm, refusing to let the teasing get to you. "Jenna’s… she’s important to me. I’m not leading her on, if that’s what you’re worried about."

Markus raises an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied.

Do you have to admit in this very moment that you maybe kind of like his sister...?

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "Look, I don’t really know where we stand right now, but I care about her—a lot. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her."

Markus studies you for a moment longer before breaking into a grin. "Okay, that’s acceptable. For now."

"For now?" you echo, incredulous but Markus is already getting up, stretching like he just completed some monumental task.

"Yeah. Just remember, I’ll be watching." He winks at you before heading back to his side of the room.

"What are we watching?" Aliyah's voice suddenly booms, startling you.

You whip your head around at the speed of lightning, and of course your eyes lock onto Jenna's. Thank god she had the same idea as you and wore a jumper over whatever her swim outfit was so you couldn't tell what she was wearing.

Still, your stomach knots. Shit. Did Jenna hear you talking about her?

"Nothing," you mutter to Aliyah, trying to sound casual, though the heat creeping up your neck says otherwise. "Are we ready to go?"

As you glance back at Jenna, you realize she’s watching you intently. Her gaze lingers a little too long, her head tilted ever so slightly, as if she’s piecing something together. You feel your skin flush under her scrutiny, suddenly hyper-aware of her presence.

Then, just as you think you might combust from the tension, a slow, amused smile breaks across her face. Her eyes flick downward, and you follow her gaze to… oh god. The stupidly bright pink shorts Hunter lent you.

"Nice look," Jenna quips, her voice light and teasing.

Your hands instinctively tug at the hem of your hoodie, trying to shield as much of the shorts as possible. "Yeah, well… they’re functional."

"Functional," she echoes, her grin widening. "Sure."

Aliyah raises an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. "Alright, lovebirds," she says, rolling her eyes. "Let’s get going before the party’s over."

As the group starts heading out, you walk ahead, desperate to escape Jenna’s knowing smirk. But you can’t help glancing back just once, catching her still smiling at you, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and something else you can’t quite name.

————

Courtesy of Markus' Uber app, the driver slows to a stop, and you all step out, craning your necks to take in the towering building before you. The sleek glass facade gleams under the city lights, exuding wealth and extravagance.

"Jesus," Hunter breathes, his jaw practically hitting the sidewalk. "Is this a college party or a Kardashian party?"

You find yourself mirroring his wide-eyed expression. "This is… a lot," you mutter.

Markus grins. "Nah, it’s just a kid in my class. He’s cool. His family’s super rich, though."

You nod absently, but the information doesn’t exactly calm your nerves. As you stare at the building, a sudden wave of discomfort washes over you. Will it be obvious that you don’t belong here? The thought crosses your mind and stubbornly lingers, gnawing at the edges of your confidence.

You glance at Hunter, half-expecting him to share your unease, but no—he’s practically bouncing on his toes, his excitement palpable. Of course, he’d thrive in an environment like this.

Before you know it, you’re all piling into the elevator, Aliyah confidently hitting the button for the penthouse. The mirrored walls reflect your group back at you, and you take a steadying breath, trying to shake off the impostor syndrome creeping in.

As the elevator ascends, you feel a gentle tug on your sleeve. You glance down to see Jenna looking up at you, concern etched in her features.

"You okay?" she whispers, her voice soft enough that only you can hear.

You blink, caught off guard. "Huh? Yeah, I’m fine," you reply quickly, though the words feel hollow.

"You’ve been quiet," she presses, her eyes scanning your face. "You were lively during the ride, but now… it’s like you flipped a switch."

Her observation catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. It’s not often someone notices these shifts in you—let alone calls them out.

"I guess I’m just… a little overwhelmed," you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jenna’s lips curve into a small, understanding smile. "Don’t worry," she says, her hand brushing against yours briefly in reassurance. "You’re with us. You belong here."

Her words hang in the air as the elevator dings, signaling your arrival at the penthouse. The doors slide open, revealing a lavish space filled with music, laughter, and an intoxicating air of luxury.

You step out, Jenna’s quiet reassurance still echoing in your mind, and try to believe it.

You barely have time to process the fleeting warmth of Jenna’s hand brushing against yours before a guy—presumably the host—beelines toward your group, a wide, sloppy grin plastered on his face.

“Markus! You made it, bro!” he slurs, his sunglasses tilted crookedly on his nose, a solo cup in each hand. One is filled with something neon green, the other an alarming shade of blue, and neither looks remotely safe to drink. You take him in quickly—barefoot, dripping wet, and leaving a sizable puddle in his wake. The guy clearly just climbed out of the massive pool that stretches across the center of the penthouse and doesn’t seem to care one bit about the water ruining the hardwood floors.

While Markus greets him with a laugh and a hearty handshake, you take the opportunity to glance around. The penthouse is sprawling—easily larger than half the homes on your street combined. The walls are painted a deep, moody purple, accented by dim, neon lighting that shifts colors in rhythm with the heavy bass of the music. The furniture screams luxury, from the sleek leather couches to the glass coffee tables littered with half-empty cups, discarded towels, and the occasional misplaced phone.

The centerpiece of the room, though, is undoubtedly the pool. It’s an indoor marvel, its edges lined with glowing tiles that cast an ethereal blue light across the entire space. The water ripples as people dive in or lounge at the edges, drinks in hand. Some are modestly dressed in one-pieces or board shorts, while others push the limits of decency, their swimwear leaving little to the imagination.

The energy in the room is wild, chaotic, and undeniably alluring. You can’t help but feel a little out of place amidst the atmosphere, but there’s also a strange pull to it—a curiosity about what the night might hold.

As Markus continues his lively conversation with the host, Aliyah nudges your arm, drawing your attention. “Anyone catch your attention?" she wiggles her eyebrows while looking around the penthouse.

Thankfully Jenna didn't hear the question and you don't answer. You glance over at Jenna, who’s taking in the chaos with a cool, unreadable expression. She seems completely at ease, as if she’s seen this kind of thing a hundred times before.

Finally, the host turns his attention to the rest of your group, his bleary eyes landing on Jenna. “And who are you?” he slurs, grinning like every rich boy stereotype rolled into one. He awkwardly stacks one solo cup into the other—both already full of whatever questionable concoctions he’s drinking. The liquid sloshes over the sides and onto the floor, and you can’t help but think, Damn, it’s gonna suck for whoever has to clean this up tomorrow.

He adjusts his crooked sunglasses onto his head with one hand and extends the other toward Jenna, clearly expecting her to shake it. Jenna hesitates, her eyes darting to Aliyah for guidance. Aliyah gives her an encouraging nod, but the simple act seems to weigh on her. Finally, after a moment of visible deliberation, Jenna gives the guy’s hand a quick, perfunctory shake, her expression polite but distant.

The host grins wider, clearly undeterred. “Hope you’ve got a swimsuit under that,” he says with a sloppy wink. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

You stiffen, your jaw clenching as the scene plays out. What the fuck? The guy’s blatant drunkenness is gross enough, but his flirty comment? That’s a whole other level of irritating. You can’t say anything—you don’t have that right—but a twinge of jealousy twists in your chest nonetheless.

Of course something like this was going to happen. How could it not? Jenna was gorgeous, and anyone with eyes could see that. All these drunk college losers were going to shoot their shot, thinking they had a chance with her. The thought makes your blood simmer, but you force yourself to look away, jaw still tight.

Jenna, to her credit, doesn’t react much beyond a slight narrowing of her eyes. She turns back to your group, brushing off the host’s comment as if it were a stray piece of lint on her sleeve.

She turns to look at you and notices the way your jaw is clenched. And she can't help but notice the burning sensation in her chest at the sight. Is this the reaction she had wanted? She should've never let Aliyah get into her head.

"Make her jealous."

Her younger sister had whispered to her before they entered the party.

You breathe out a quiet sigh, your irritation still bubbling under the surface but tempered by the fact that she didn’t seem fazed.

Aliyah nudges you again, her voice low and teasing. “Careful, your face is gonna freeze like that.”

You roll your eyes, the tension easing just slightly. This is fine, you tell yourself. This is just a party.

————

This is not just a party.

The night had started with all five of you sticking together, like a tight-knit squad entering enemy territory. But, predictably, the chaos of the party soon swallowed you up, scattering everyone like confetti. Hunter had found his place in the pool, leading a cannonball competition that echoed with cheers and splashes loud enough to rival the music. Aliyah, ever the social butterfly, was mingling with Markus’ friends—some of whom she seemed to know already, laughing and chatting like this was her natural habitat.

Markus and Jenna claimed a spot poolside, lounging on sleek deck chairs while chatting with a group of partygoers. Probably Markus’ friends, you figured. He looked entirely in his element, gesturing animatedly while Jenna sat beside him, a quiet but magnetic presence.

As for you? Well, you were stationed at the edge of the action, nursing your second cup of the mystery blue fluid. It seemed like the safer option compared to the guy mixing vodka with… was that Mountain Dew? Your self-assigned mission was simple: keep an eye on Aliyah and shoot occasional glances at the girl by the pool.

Okay, maybe more than occasional.

Jenna was wearing a black bikini that was deceptively simple, all clean lines and understated elegance. It wasn’t flashy, but it didn’t need to be. It hugged her in all the right places, the kind of outfit that made her look like she’d walked straight out of a swimwear catalog. You could still feel the lingering heat in your cheeks from when she’d first taken off her jumper.

————

She had casually peeled it off as if it were no big deal—just another layer to shed in the heat of the party. But for you? It was a moment. One second, she was her usual, effortlessly cool self in the oversized jumper, and the next, she was standing there in that bikini, and your brain just… short-circuited.

Your first thought: Oh my god, she’s gorgeous. Your second thought: No, wait, she’s always been gorgeous. Your third thought: Holy crap, I’m staring.

Hunter, of course, had noticed your reaction because he never missed an opportunity to tease. He leaned over with a smirk and whispered, “Careful, you’re gonna burn a hole through her with that look.”

You’d snapped out of it with a flustered, “Shut up,” but it was too late. The damage was done. You were blushing so hard, you were sure your face could have powered the penthouse lights.

————

Now, as you stood there, gripping your cup like a lifeline, your eyes kept drifting back to Jenna. The soft glow from the pool lights made her skin look impossibly smooth, her hair falling over one shoulder in loose waves.

You told yourself to look away—to focus on something, anything else—but it was impossible. She was mesmerizing in a way that made the rest of the party blur into the background.

Your drink was halfway to your lips when you realized you hadn’t blinked in a while. Get it together, you scolded yourself, tearing your gaze away with a sharp breath.

But even as you tried to distract yourself, the truth was unavoidable: Jenna Ortega in a bikini—scratch that. Jenna Ortega was your kryptonite.

————

You can’t take your eyes off her.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re keeping an eye out, making sure no one bothers her, but the truth is, you’re mesmerized. She looks so comfortable, so effortlessly beautiful, and it’s infuriating how easy she makes it all seem.

“Enjoying the view?”

You nearly choke on air and whip your head to the side to see Aliyah standing there, a sly grin on her face.

“I—what?” you stammer, heat rushing to your face.

"I’ve seen you looking over there about fifty times in the last ten minutes."

You stiffened, immediately defensive. "I have not."

Aliyah raised an eyebrow, her smirk betraying just how much she was enjoying this. "Uh-huh. Sure. So, you’re not staring at my sister like she’s the eighth wonder of the world?"

She laughs. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.” She leans in closer, lowering her voice. “But seriously, you need to tell her. How long are you going to keep dancing around? And not like you’re not exactly subtle either.”

You glare at her, but the effect is ruined by the fact that your face is probably as red as the solo cup in your hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” She straightens up, her grin widening.

”Are you drinking tonight?” You ask her, changing the topic but also wanting to know the state of her so you can protect her as needed.

“Nope. It’s a sober night. Don’t worry about me and go get your girl before someone else does,” she urges.

Aliyah added, her tone lighter now, "if you do decide to shoot your shot, maybe don’t wait too long. She’s got options, you know."

You groan, taking another swig from your drink. The thought of Jenna with someone else is burning you.

“Anyway, I’m heading to the pool. Try not to stare too hard.”

She saunters off, leaving you standing there, flustered and annoyed but mostly just embarrassed. You glance back at Jenna, who’s now leaning back on her arms, her head tilted toward the ceiling.

You sigh and take a sip of your drink, the bitterness doing little to distract you from the whirlwind in your chest.

This is not just a party, you think again. This is torture.

————

As you leaned against the railing, sipping on your third drink of the night and trying to push Aliyah's words to the back of your mind, the host stumbled up to you, a wide, sloppy grin plastered across his face. He was holding a vape pen, which he took a long drag from before exhaling a cloud of vapor that smelled faintly of mango.

"Hey, my friennnd!" he slurred, swaying slightly as he leaned in closer than necessary. "You not havin’ a good time or what? You’re just… standing here."

You sighed, already exasperated. "I’m fine, thanks."

He squinted at you like he didn’t believe a word of it, then followed your line of sight toward the pool. His eyes lit up in drunken revelation. "Ahhh! I see what this is!" He laughed loudly and gave you a hearty slap on the back that almost made you spill your drink. "You’ve got eyes for the girl, huh?"

You stiffened, your face heating up. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Sure, sure," he said, waving you off with a laugh. "You’re just standing here, gripping the shit out of that drink, sneaking glances at her like a lovesick puppy because you hate her."

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush him off, but he wasn’t done. "You should go talk to her! Make your move, my dude. Life’s short, and she’s…" He gestured vaguely toward Jenna, nearly knocking himself off balance in the process. "She’s worth it, you know?"

The sincerity in his drunken tone threw you for a loop. You frowned, crossing your arms. "Weren’t you flirting with her earlier?"

He blinked at you, then laughed like you’d just told the funniest joke in the world. "Oh, that? Dude, I flirt with everyone here. It’s, like, my whole thing. Keeps the vibe alive, you know?"

You stared at him, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. "So, what? None of it’s serious?"

He shrugged, leaning heavily against the railing beside you. "Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s not. Most of the time, it’s just… me trying to connect. I mean, isn’t that what we’re all doing? Trying to feel something?"

His words hit harder than you expected, and you found yourself looking at him in a new light. Despite his slurred speech and drunken antics, there was something oddly profound about what he’d just said.

"So… what are you trying to feel?" you asked before you could stop yourself.

He let out a long sigh, his grin fading slightly. "Dunno, man. Something real, I guess. You ever feel like you’re just… floating? Like, you’re surrounded by people, but none of it feels solid? So you do stupid stuff—throw parties, flirt with strangers—just to remind yourself you’re alive?"

You stared at him, taken aback by the sudden vulnerability.

This was the last thing you were expecting tonight.

"Yeah," you admitted quietly. "I think I get that."

He looked at you, his expression surprisingly sober for a moment. "Then you get why you shouldn’t waste time. If you feel something—really feel something—you gotta go for it. Otherwise, what’s the point?"

You glanced back toward the pool, where Jenna was laughing at something Markus said, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that made your heart stutter.

“And if you don’t wanna take that chance. And want to take the easy way out. I’ll show you how to party,” he smirks gesturing to the end of the drinks table where three girls who you hadn’t noticed earlier were very obviously checking you out.

“I feel like kissing that guy over there,” he randomly announced. “Ciao!”

Maybe the drunk host had a point. And you made your choice.

————

The last month had been an avalanche of unsolicited advice.

Anton had urged you to chase what you want. Your mom stressed staying safe and doing what’s necessary. Hunter and Aliyah kept nudging you to address whatever was going on with Jenna.

And yet, you’d done nothing. Every word of wisdom rolled off you like water off a duck’s back. That’s what made it so damn funny that a drunk party host, of all people, was the one to finally light a fire under you.

Half the room was chasing something—a feeling. The same feeling that teens, young adults, and even grown adults spent their lives chasing. Butterflies, knots, secret glances, the kind of love that makes your heart race and your world slow down. Some people would do anything to find it. Others would do anything to forget it. But not everyone gets it.

What hit you was this: half the room was drowning their emptiness in alcohol, filling voids they didn’t know how to name. You, though? You didn’t have to fill that void. Because you already had what they were searching for.

And that was why, with a newfound determination, you started walking toward Markus, Aliyah, and Jenna by the pool.

You rehearsed what you might say in your head. You doubted you had the guts to blurt out a bold “I like you”—not even after three cups of that mystery blue drink. Sure, the booze helped take the edge off your nerves, but it wasn’t strong enough to make you reckless. Nothing at this party was as potent as Sinner’s jungle juice from back home.

Maybe you’d start small: “You look beautiful tonight.” Yeah, that could work. It was a start.

One way or another, Jenna was going to leave this party knowing how you felt about her.

The closer you got, the more you shook off your nerves. You watched Aliyah, now in the pool and leaning on the edge, whisper something in Jenna’s ear. You didn’t think much of it. The party was deafening, so whispering—or yelling—was the only way anyone could be heard.

But as you closed the gap, you saw Jenna turn her attention from Aliyah to the guy next to her. He was already looking at her, and whatever he’d said made her laugh—a real, full-bodied laugh. She even reached out and playfully slapped his arm.

What the hell?

You tried to brush it off. It was just a party. A nervous habit, maybe. It didn’t mean anything.

But then she did it again. The laugh was softer this time, more intimate. The playful arm slap turned into a lingering touch.

And this time, it wasn’t so easy to dismiss.

Jenna rises onto her tiptoes, leaning closer to the guy beside her. Whatever she whispers in his ear makes him nod, a smug grin stretching across his face. He hoists himself up onto the pool’s ledge with ease, droplets of water glistening on his skin in the dim party lights. Then, extending a hand, he helps Jenna out of the pool as well.

You stand frozen, watching as they make their way around the pool—not toward you, but on the opposite side. Hand in hand, they head for the dance floor.

Your stomach knots. Your feet feel glued to the ground, and you can only stand there, watching in disbelief as they disappear into the crowd.

You could see how the guy takes in the sights of her in that swim suit and it made you seethe with anger.

Aliyah scans the room, her gaze drifting over the pulsating crowd of partygoers. She spots you across the pool, standing stiffly, your eyes locked on Jenna like she’s the only person in the room. The intensity of your stare isn’t lost on her.

Her brow furrows, and she mouths a quiet, “Oh.”

“What’s up?” Markus asks, turning to her with a confused expression.

Aliyah hesitates before answering, her voice low, almost guilty. “I think I messed up.”

Aliyah’s stomach twists as she recalls her own words to Jenna earlier: “Go with the flow; it might cause someone to spring into action.��

Markus turns to her, confused. “What’re you talking about?”

Aliyah nods in your direction. “Look at her.”

Markus follows her gaze and immediately notices you, frozen and visibly fuming, your emotions written all over your face. He lets out a low whistle. “Oof. Yeah, that doesn’t look good.”

Aliyah shakes her head, already looking around. “We need to find Hunter. I don’t see this ending well if we don’t intervene.”

Markus groans, but he’s already following her lead. “Great. Another party, another disaster.”

————

Just minutes ago, you’d felt almost enlightened, convinced you were nothing like the crowd around you—certain you weren’t chasing the same empty void so many here seemed desperate to fill.

But now? Now you felt ridiculous. Pissed. And maybe that mystery blue drink had hit harder than you realized, because suddenly, you were stalking through the crowd, determined to find the host.

He wasn’t hard to spot. Sure enough, he’d achieved his goal, currently locked in a passionate kiss with the guy he’d been eyeing earlier.

Thankfully, he noticed you approaching just in time and broke away, grinning lazily.

You stopped in front of him, your frustration bubbling over. “Show me how to have a good time.”

The host’s grin faltered the moment he registered your expression. For someone as drunk as he was, it was almost impressive how quickly his disappointment flickered across his face. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly, as if he’d hoped you wouldn’t end up here, fuming and frustrated.

But he nodded, brushing off the moment with a shrug and an exaggerated stumble in your direction. “Alright, alright,” he slurred, gesturing for you to follow him, leaving the guy he was making out with stranded for your sake. “Come on, let’s fix that mood of yours.”

He weaved his way back toward the drinks table, unsteady on his feet but somehow managing to avoid a complete wipeout. You followed reluctantly, your anger simmering beneath the surface as he gestured toward the end of the drinks table. The trio of girls you hadn’t noticed earlier perked up immediately, their eyes lighting up when they spotted you.

"First, we need to get you absolutely zonked!” the host cheers, thrusting a cup of that ominous green liquid into your hand.

You hesitate, staring at the swirling contents as if they might hold all the answers—or at least some of the regrets you’d rather avoid. Still, you take a sip, and the potent concoction hits you almost immediately. It’s stronger than the blue drink, and you know one thing for sure, you don’t want to get so wasted that you do something irreparably stupid at a party full of strangers. One drink, you decide. That’s your limit.

The host, however, is in full swing. “Alright! Step one done. Now, we find you a girl. The goal’s to make your gal jealous, right?”

You don’t say anything, your silence speaking volumes. He glances back at the dance floor, where Jenna’s still twirling and laughing with the guy. “Yeah, I’ll take that as a yes. She’s dancing with him, so we’re gonna play the same game. Cool?”

Guilt creeps up your spine, making your stomach churn more than the drink. You overthink everything. What would Jenna think? Would this make things worse?

The host seems to sense your hesitation. He snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Hey, stop thinking. You wanted to party, right? This is partying. Just dance and vibe—no strings attached. And bonus, she’ll notice. Maybe even pull a move herself. Cool?”

You still don’t answer, but he barrels on regardless, scanning the room with surprising clarity for someone who’s barely standing upright. His gaze lands on a girl across the room, sipping a drink and watching you with an air of quiet confidence. “I say you go for her,” he says, nodding toward her. “She’s not as desperate as those three over there practically undressing you with their eyes.” He gestures to the trio at the end of the table, but your attention is already locked on the girl he pointed out.

She’s gorgeous. Her sleek black hair falls effortlessly over her shoulders, catching the dim lights in a way that feels almost cinematic. Her lips, painted a deep red, curve into a subtle smirk as her dark hazel, almond-shaped eyes fixate on you. Those eyes… they’re hypnotic, pulling you in like she already knows the effect she’s having on you.

And then she does it—the sticky eyes trick. She looks at you, holds your gaze for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then glances away like she’s already won. It’s deliberate, it’s calculated, and it’s working.

“She’s doing it on purpose,” the host mutters, nudging you forward. “That’s your cue, my friend.”

Your feet move before your brain catches up, guilt and hesitation drowned out by whatever magnetic pull this girl has on you. As you approach, she tilts her head slightly, a single brow arching in challenge. The smirk deepens, and she takes a slow sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving yours now. It’s like she’s daring you to come closer, daring you to make the first move.

And you do.

It all happened so fast. One moment, you were walking across the room, drawn in by her magnetic gaze, and the next, you were standing in front of her. Barely any words were exchanged—just a coy smile and a simple, “Hey, I’m Sofia. Wanna dance?” Before you could even think, you nodded, and now here you are—another pair of bodies swaying in the pulsating rhythm of the music, like the rest of the world had melted away.

Her arms rest comfortably around your shoulders, her touch warm and intimate as if you’ve done this a million times before. Your hands find their place naturally at her waist, and the two of you move in perfect sync, every beat of the music mirrored in your steps. It’s effortless—the way her body follows yours, the way your energy bounces off hers.

But every few seconds, your eyes betray you, glancing over your shoulder to see what Jenna’s up to. And there she is, still dancing with that guy, laughing at something he’s said, her head tilting back just enough to make your stomach twist.

Sofia’s voice pulls you back. “Hmm, are we making that girl jealous?” she teases, her tone light but sharp enough to cut through the haze of your thoughts.

“Maybe,” you admit cautiously, the word barely audible over the music. You brace yourself, worried she’ll be offended that you’re using her for this. But instead, she smirks, her dark eyes glinting with mischief.

“Well,” she murmurs, her lips curving into a playful grin, “we’ll have to do a better job than this.” Without hesitation, she steps closer, closing the already small distance between you. Her body presses softly against yours, her movements slower, more deliberate, the intimacy cranked up just enough to make your pulse quicken.

“She an ex?” Sofia whispers, her breath warm against your ear. The words come out smooth, sultry—designed to sound just loud enough for you to hear.

“No,” you reply, your voice catching slightly. “We’re just... friends?”

Sofia throws her head back, laughing dramatically, the sound exaggerated and almost theatrical. It’s over the top, no doubt meant to draw attention. Jenna’s attention. You’re sure she’s watching now, though you don’t dare look back. Instead, you commit fully to the bit, letting the drinks loosen your inhibitions. The music thrums in your chest, your body moving like the college kid you are—reckless, carefree, and untethered.

For the first time tonight, you let yourself stop thinking. You dance like no one’s watching—though deep down, you know someone is.

————

Hunter, Aliyah, and Markus watched the scene unfold like an audience to the world’s most chaotic soap opera. Their expressions ranged from shock to amusement, with Hunter’s jaw practically on the floor.

“What the fuck did I miss?” he asked, eyes darting between you and your dance partner and Jenna and hers.

“I told Jenna to make Y/n jealous,” Aliyah admitted, her voice tinged with guilt. “And now Y/n is retaliating.”

Hunter let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “This is so not like Y/n, but I kinda like it. That girl is cute.”

Aliyah shot him a sharp glare. “Excuse me? Aren’t we rooting for Jenna and Y/n?”

Hunter snickered. “We are, but relax. This is just the pre-show. They’ll have makeup sex and get over it.”

Aliyah groaned, rolling her eyes. “Seriously? Makeup sex? They—"

Hunter smirked. “Yeah, makeup sex. You know, when they—”

Markus laughs at Hunter’s response.

“I know what it is, weirdo,” Aliyah snapped. “But they’re not there yet. They haven’t even admitted they like each other yet! They need to stop being stubborn and actually talk!”

Hunter leaned back, crossing his arms confidently. “It’ll happen. Look at them—they’re both trying to make each other jealous. This is just foreplay. They’ll be fine as long as neither of them crosses the line. Dancing? Fine. Kissing? That could screw everything up.”

Their attention snapped back to the dance floor as Jenna, spotting you with Sofia, retaliated. She moved even closer to her partner, her hands trailing over his shoulders, their movements far more intimate now.

“Oh no,” Aliyah muttered.

“Oh yes,” Hunter said, grinning. “Now it’s getting good.”

The group leaned forward, watching as you noticed Jenna’s escalation. Without missing a beat, you responded. Sofia seemed to catch on quickly, her body now pressed firmly against yours as you matched Jenna’s energy. The two of you danced as if the rest of the world had disappeared, exchanging subtle glances that grew bolder with every passing moment.

It was a game of one-upmanship now. Jenna would sway closer to her partner, and you’d mirror her, pulling Sofia even closer. Jenna’s hands would glide down her partner’s arms, and Sofia would follow suit with you. Back and forth it went, escalating with each move, the tension between you and Jenna palpable even from across the room.

“Holy shit,” Hunter muttered, his grin widening. “They’re not even pretending anymore.”

“They’re literally staring each other down,” Markus added, incredulous.

It was true. Neither of you was hiding the fact that this was all about the other. Your eyes locked with Jenna’s, an unspoken challenge passing between you as your bodies moved in sync with your respective partners. The music thumped, the crowd blurred, but all that mattered was who would break first.

Sofia's hands slid up your arms and found their way to your shoulders as you danced, her movements effortlessly in sync with yours. Her body pressed closer, her breath warm against your neck, and her fingers trailed lightly down your chest to your exposed abs, pausing there just long enough to send a shiver through you.

You felt her touch, soft but deliberate, and couldn't help but glance over your shoulder.

Jenna was watching.

Her gaze wasn't subtle—it lingered, her lips tightening as her eyes followed Sofia's hands on you. The guy she was dancing with had his hands on her waist, pulling her closer, but Jenna's attention wasn't on him at all. It was on you, her expression a mix of irritation and something else you couldn't quite place.

Then, suddenly, you froze. Breaking away from Sofia.

“What’s happening?” Aliyah whispered, her voice tight with worry.

The trio followed your gaze back to Jenna. She was standing on her tiptoes, leaning in toward her partner, her face inches from his. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were about to—

“Oh no,” Aliyah breathed, clutching Markus’s arm.

The three of them stared, holding their breath, as the moment stretched into eternity.

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