#but i got so lost in all these little signs and feelings of tension and

[fappellmoan]

is it really really stupid to give her the gift. i know she’s not worth it and im making myself feel like shit over and over and i need to stop and it doesnt matter how sad or angry i am about it she’s not just gonna dump him and even if she did i wouldn’t like. want to be the second choice (not that i inherently would be. weirdo dream scenario) and it’s just not gonna affect her much to not see me anymore and i have to be okay with that. and im truthfully not rn but i have to be cause that’s the reality. anyway lost my point there

[julietsf1]

From Raya to Rivalry - Franco Colapinto x Sainz!Reader

Summary: Carlos Sainz's little sister is pushed to the limit when rookie Franco Colapinto, who stood her up after a flirtatious encounter on Raya, re-enters her life—without any sign he remembers her at all. Between race weekends and time with friends the tension between them becomes impossible to ignore. Will Franco finally remember why she’s been driving him mad all along?

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, Charles wearing those hideous pants again. Possibly wrong Spanish?

AN: Sup sweeties!! Another one! 9k words oh my days... inspired after seeing him on Raya last weekend, help me manifest a match pls lmaooo

___

The Singapore paddock was buzzing with its usual mix of high-speed energy and humidity so thick you could practically swim in it. Most people hated the sticky heat, but I loved the chaos of it all—the lights, the fans, the noise. Normally, I’d be soaking it all in, grinning from ear to ear, but today… well, today was different.

Because today, I was about to meet Franco Colapinto. Or rather, remeet him.

“Y/N!” Carlos’s voice called out to me as I made my way through the maze of hospitality suites. I spotted him standing with a guy I hadn’t seen in months—but who I recognized immediately. Short brown hair, that annoyingly perfect face, and a grin that screamed trouble.

“Come here!” Carlos waved me over, looking way too pleased with himself.

I made my way toward them, my mind racing. Franco Colapinto. Of all the people Carlos could’ve become friends with, it had to be him.

“This is Franco,” Carlos said, introducing the rookie driver standing next to him, completely unaware of the history. “He’s the one I’ve been telling you about.”

Franco extended his hand, that infuriating smirk plastered on his face like we hadn’t met before. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

I hesitated for a split second, surprised he didn’t seem to remember me. I forced a smile, shaking his hand. “You too,” I said, keeping my tone neutral even though irritation bubbled under the surface.

He didn’t remember. Seriously?

Carlos, oblivious as ever, kept the introductions going. “I’m showing him around first time in Singapore—helping him settle in.”

Franco’s smirk only grew as he glanced at me. “Carlos told me a lot about you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “All good things, I hope?”

“Of course,” he replied, his tone smooth. “Apparently, you’re always by his side, keeping him in check.”

I forced an awkward laugh. “Someone has to.”

Franco chuckled, and I hated how casual he was, how easy this all seemed for him. How could he not remember?

Carlos nudged Franco. “She’s tough. But you’ll get used to her.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a feeling we’ll get along just fine,” Franco said, his eyes glinting with amusement.

I forced a tight smile. “Sure. We’ll see about that.”

The second we’d been introduced, I knew this weekend was going to be hell. Not only did Franco seem every bit as cocky as I remembered, but the fact that he didn’t even recognize me? That stung more than I cared to admit.

"Look at us! Latinos taking care of Latinos!" Carlos proclaimed, slinging an arm around Franco’s shoulders like they were long-lost brothers. 

“We’re Spanish, Carlos. Not Latinos,” I corrected him for what had to be the hundredth time.

Carlos just waved me off. “Same difference, hermana.”

I shrugged; it was no use. Carlos had it in his head that he and Franco were kindred spirits, bonded by heritage and brought together by fate.

Franco didn’t even seem to care though. He’d just grin at Carlos, play along, and occasionally throw in a “sí, jefe” for good measure, which, for some reason, made Carlos beam with pride. And every time he did it, I swear, a small part of my sanity chipped away.

It wasn’t just that Franco was arrogant—plenty of the guys on the grid had egos to match their talent. No, my problem with Franco was that I knew him. And not just in the “we’ve crossed paths a few times” way. No, this was personal.

We’d met on Raya a while back. You know, that exclusive dating app for “famous” people. I’d been curious—mostly out of boredom—and swiped right when his profile popped up. It wasn’t that he wasn’t my type; he was cute, in that annoyingly perfect way. But there was something about his bio, some sarcastic line about how he was “not just here for friends,” that made me pause. Still, I swiped.

We’d exchanged messages for a week or so. Flirty, teasing. Nothing too deep. He was funny, I’ll give him that. And then we’d made plans to meet up. Dinner at a rooftop restaurant in Monaco. Classic.

Except… he never showed up.

No text. No call. Just nothing.

I’d waited for over an hour, feeling like a complete idiot, checking my phone every few minutes as people around me gave me sympathetic looks. I left that night swearing off drivers for good.

And now here he was, strolling around the paddock with Carlos like he hadn’t completely ghosted me months ago. Worse still, he didn’t even seem to recognize me. The same smirk, the same cocky attitude, but no flicker of recognition.

The audacity.

I mean, sure, I wasn’t about to bring up a failed Raya date in the middle of race weekend, but still. A part of me wanted to shake him and scream, “Seriously? You don’t remember me?!”

But instead, I kept my cool. Sort of.

“Franco’s a quick learner,” Carlos said, turning to Lando, who’d just wandered over with his usual laid-back grin. “Picked up on everything in no time.”

Franco gave a modest shrug, but the look in his eyes was anything but humble. “I’ve got a good teacher.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I don’t know if Carlos is the best person to be learning from, mate.”

“Hey!” Carlos protested, but his grin showed he didn’t mind the teasing. “Just watch—you’ll see Franco out there killing it this weekend.”

I rolled my eyes, hanging back as the boys bantered. Franco was already fitting in too easily, blending into the group like he’d been there all along. Normally, I’d be cracking jokes, joining in on the fun, but every time I looked at Franco, that old irritation flared up. I couldn’t help it. The guy brought out the worst in me.

“So, Y/N,” Lando said, turning his attention to me. “What’s the verdict on the new rookie?”

Before I could answer, Franco cut in with a grin. “I think she likes me. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

I blinked at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You know,” Franco said, leaning in slightly, that smirk never leaving his face. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“How can someone be so full of themselves?” I looked at Franco in disbelief. 

Lando burst out laughing, clapping Franco on the shoulder. “Mate, I think you’ve met your match.”

Franco chuckled, completely unfazed. “Glad her brother is fun at least.”

Carlos, completely missing half of the conversation, tuned in again. “See? Latinos taking care of Latinos.”

I shot Franco a glare. “We are not Latino, Carlos.”

“Details,” Carlos waved dismissively, already walking ahead toward the press conference room. “Come on, we’ve got a schedule.”

As we made our way through the paddock, I kept a few steps behind, watching Franco saunter beside Carlos like he owned the place. Every time he laughed or tossed his hair back, my hands itched to strangle him. How could someone be so infuriatingly charming? And why did everyone seem to love him?

Because he’s a flirt. That’s why. He charms his way out of everything.

Like that time he charmed me into thinking he was actually interested.

By the time we reached the press conference room, I was already dreading what was about to happen. Franco, armed with a microphone and an audience? This was going to be a disaster.

Carlos took his seat beside Franco, and I hung back by the entrance, watching the chaos unfold.

It didn’t take long for Franco to work his magic. The first question was simple: “Franco, you’re new to the grid. How’s the experience treating you so far?”

He smiled, leaning toward the mic. “It’s been... quite the ride,” he said, his voice dripping with that smooth, confident tone. “But I like rides. The faster, the better.”

I felt my eye twitch.

The reporters chuckled, but Franco wasn’t done.

“Any nerves going into your first race here in Singapore?” another reporter asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Franco’s grin widened. “Nerves? No. Excitement, maybe. A first ride is always a fun challenge! Can’t wait to get familiar with all the curves of the circuit.”

I groaned, quietly enough so only the people nearby could hear. I caught a few knowing glances from the journalists around me, and I was tempted to yell, “I’m not with him!” but held my tongue.

“He’s unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath.

Unfortunately, Franco’s hearing was sharper than I’d anticipated. He turned his head, locking eyes with me for a split second, and that smirk—God, that smirk—widened as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“Handling the heat well, Franco?” another reporter asked, her tone light and teasing.

Franco leaned back, grinning. “Heat’s never been a problem for me. I like it hot actually.”

I wanted to crawl into a hole. Or possibly throw something at him. How could one person be this insufferable?

“And what’s been the highlight of your time in Singapore so far?” one of the female reporters asked, her tone more flirtatious than professional.

Franco grinned, locking eyes with her. “The highlight? Let’s just say there’s been plenty to... keep me entertained.”

I wanted to crawl into a hole. Or possibly throw something at him. How could one person be this insufferable.

By the time the press conference wrapped up, I was practically vibrating with irritation. Carlos was chatting with a few reporters when Franco sauntered over, his confidence turned up to eleven.

“Enjoy the show?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

I forced a smile, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “It was... enlightening.”

He chuckled. “You seem tense. Maybe you should try smiling once in a while.”

I blinked, narrowing my eyes at him. “I’ll smile when you stop talking.”

His grin widened, clearly enjoying this way too much. “So, never then?”

Before I could respond, Carlos reappeared, blissfully unaware of the tension brewing between us. “Ready to head to dinner?”

Franco gave me one last smirk before turning to Carlos with a casual, “Let’s go.”

As they walked away, I stood there, fuming.

This weekend was going to be hell.

.

The city lights of Singapore sparkled in the background as we arrived at the restaurant, one of Carlos’s favorite spots. It was tucked away, hidden from the main buzz of the city, the kind of place that only locals and celebrities knew about. Naturally, Carlos acted like he was both.

The rest of the group was already there when we walked in. Charles, Lando, George, and Alexandra were scattered around the table, mid-conversation. They waved us over, and I took a seat between Alexandra and Lando, leaving Carlos and Franco on the other side of the table.

“About time,” Lando grinned, motioning to the drinks. “We’ve already started, and George is on his second story about the ‘importance of a good cravat.’”

George shot Lando a withering look. “I do not recall making that remark. Besides, I would never subject these fine people to a lecture on cravats—unless they specifically requested it.”

Lando snickered. “Sure, mate. I’m sure everyone here was just dying to know how to tie the perfect Windsor knot.”

George adjusted the nonexistent collar on his shirt, sitting up straighter. “Actually, it’s the Prince Albert knot. Very distinguished.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Please, no more knot talk, George. I’m still recovering from the last fashion seminar you gave us.”

I grinned, watching as George tried to defend his sartorial wisdom, while Lando and Charles tag-teamed to poke fun. It was typical—Lando being the class clown, George being... well, George.

Franco slipped into his seat beside Carlos, flashing that smug grin as if he was the star of the night. I immediately braced myself, knowing where this dinner was going to head.

I was happy to be seated next to Alexandra. Over the past year, we had grown really close after watching each race together in the Ferrari motorhome. She was one of the kindest and most intelligent girls I had ever met, and also one of the only friends I had confided in about the whole Franco mess. 

Alex sent me a beaming smile as I sat down, subtly grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. “So glad you could make it tonight!”

I smiled back, tension slowly falling off my shoulders. “Missed you loads, Alex!”

The waiter came around, taking our drink orders, and for a moment, the chatter filled the space, making it easy for me to avoid engaging with Franco. Lando was still on about FP2, sharing exaggerated stories about his heroic saves during the practice session.

“And then—just as I thought I was gonna bin it—bam! I pulled off the most insane save. I’m telling you, pure Norris finesse,” Lando said, throwing in dramatic hand gestures.

George raised an eyebrow, sipping his drink like an English lord. “Oh yes, the Norris magic... or, as the rest of the world calls it, ‘sheer dumb luck..’”

Lando gasped, clutching his chest theatrically. “Dumb luck? I’ll have you know that the precision with which I operate is unparalleled.”

“Uh-huh,” Charles smirked, leaning back in his chair. “If by finesse you mean nearly crashing into the barriers, then yeah—spot on.”

Lando threw up his hands in mock defeat. “You know, I don’t have to sit here and take this kind of abuse. I could be at karaoke right now, stealing the show with my rendition of ‘Wonderwall.’”

I laughed. “Karaoke? Again? I still haven’t recovered from your ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ performance at Fewtrell’s birthday party.”

Lando winked. “It was legendary, and you know it.”

George smirked. “Legendary for all the wrong reasons. I’m still wondering how you managed to be both off-key and out of sync at the same time.”

Alex leaned in, grinning. “I think we should all be grateful Lando isn’t a professional singer.”

Lando pouted. “Fine, fine. Take away a man’s dreams. Just for that, I’m definitely doing ‘Wonderwall’ next.”

The banter was light and fun, and for a while, it felt like a typical dinner with friends. But then, of course, Franco had to open his mouth.

“So, Y/N,” Franco said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You’ve been traveling with Carlos for a while now, haven’t you?”

I tensed slightly, not sure where he was going with this. “Yeah, a few seasons.”

“Must be nice,” Franco continued, that smirk never leaving his face. “Traveling the world, living the F1 life...”

I felt the undertone of his comment, but I stayed neutral. “It has its perks, I guess.”

Lando, sensing the shift in tone, jumped in. “Y/N’s basically our paddock princess at this point. She runs this place better than half the team bosses.”

Carlos grinned, clearly loving the banter.��“Y/N’s like my second team principal. Only scarier.”

Alex nudged me gently, her voice soft. “I don’t know how you handle them all, Y/N.”

I smiled, feeling a bit more at ease with my friends supporting me. But then Franco, never one to let things rest, spoke up again.

“Yeah, it must be nice,” he said, his tone sharper now, though still laced with that smug charm. “Getting to enjoy the F1 life without actually having to work for it.”

I froze, my grip tightening around my glass. There it was. He’d been building up to that jab all night.

Before I could respond, I felt a light touch on my arm. Alex, sensing the shift in my mood, shot me a concerned glance. “You okay?” she whispered, her eyes searching mine.

I gave her a small, tight nod. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

She squeezed my arm gently, a silent reminder that she had my back.

“Already upset by that? Thought you’d have a thicker skin than that, Y/N.” he smirked. 

I shot Franco a tight smile, my patience wearing thin. “Oh, I’m definitely enjoying it here, Franco. What’s it like by the way, being the rookie who’s all ego but without a seat for next year?”

Lando choked on his drink, turning it into a cough to cover his laugh. George raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, while Carlos looked mildly concerned but didn’t intervene.

Franco, though? He loved it. He grinned like he’d just won the verbal sparring round. “Touché. But at least I’m doing something with my life.”

My eyes narrowed. “And what exactly is that? Besides trying to flirt with every reporter in sight?”

He leaned back, his eyes flashing with amusement. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I miss you swooning? Or were you too busy hanging onto Carlos’s wallet?”

The table went quiet for a beat, the playful banter coming to an abrupt halt.

George immediately jumped in, waving his hands. “Whoa, whoa, let’s calm down, people. No need to escalate. We’re all friends here. Except maybe you two. You two seem like... frenemies? Enemies with benefits? I’m not really sure anymore.”

Lando snickered, jumping on George’s bandwagon. “Enemies with benefits—that’s a movie I’d watch. Maybe we should take bets on how long it’ll be before you two—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Norris,” I warned, cutting him off.

Lando just grinned wider. “You know me too well.”

Franco, ever the instigator, leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the way George and Lando were trying to ease the tension. “I think George is onto something. Maybe frenemies is the right word.”

I shot Franco a look. “More like enemies, full stop.”

Charles nodded dramatically, ignoring my pointed glare. “Yep, definitely frenemies. A modern romance in the making.”

Alexandra elbowed me gently under the table, shooting me a knowing look, but I ignored her. The banter between Franco and me had always been sharp, but tonight it felt like something was shifting. The sarcasm was still there, but there was a new edge to it—one that I wasn’t liking too much.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of conversations and laughter, with George and Lando regularly cutting in whenever the tension between Franco and me threatened to boil over. Every so often, Franco would throw another sly remark my way, and I’d respond with one just as cutting. It was like a game neither of us could resist playing, even though it was obvious that everyone else at the table was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the tension.

By the time dessert arrived, the atmosphere had cooled slightly, but I was still on edge. Franco hadn’t let up the entire night, and I could feel his eyes on me even as I pretended to focus on my crème brûlée.

“So,” Lando said, trying to break the awkwardness again, “who’s ready for some karaoke after this?”

George immediately perked up, always the entertainer. “Oh, I’m in. I’ve been working on my acapella version of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’”

Charles groaned, “Please, not again.”

Everyone laughed, and for a moment, the mood lightened. But as the night drew to a close, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the dynamic between Franco and me was shifting into dangerous territory. The sarcastic comments were becoming more personal.

Carlos stood, stretching and pulling out his phone. “Alright, we should call it a night. Big day tomorrow.”

The group began to gather their things, preparing to leave, but Franco lingered by the door, his eyes catching mine for the hundredth time that evening.

“Good night, Y/N,” he said, voice dripping with faux sweetness.

I shot him a tight smile. “Night, Franco. Try not to let all that charm go to your head.”

He grinned. “Too late.”

With that, we all parted ways. Carlos walked beside me, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. This was only going to get worse.

.

One thing about Carlos is that he is a man of habits. Every race, we either play padel or golf the morning before the qualification. Just us two, to get his head clear and stuff, a peaceful moment. So when Carlos invited Franco and me to play golf with Lando, I could already sense how this was going to go.

“I hope you’re ready,” Carlos said, swinging his club dramatically as we arrived at the pristine green course. The morning sun glinted off the lush landscape, and birds chirped in the background like we were about to film a serene nature documentary. Definitely at odds with how my lovely company was making me feel. 

Lando was already halfway through his first practice swing, clearly just happy to be outside and away from the track for a bit. “You guys know I’m going to win, right?” he said, flashing his signature mischievous grin.

I rolled my eyes. “Please. The last time we played, you couldn’t even make it past the windmill at the mini-golf course.”

“Hey!” Lando protested. “That windmill was rigged. I swear it wasn’t regulation size.”

“Uh-huh. Sure Go call the stewards to whine about it.”

He laughed and jokingly rolled his eyes at me. 

Carlos tapped Franco on the shoulder, handing him a golf club. “Franco. Focus. You might be a rookie on the grid, but you can’t afford to be a rookie here.”

Franco smirked, clearly unfazed by the competition. “I don’t know, Carlos. I think I’ll be just fine.”

The vibes were good at first, as we each took turns at the tee. Lando, predictably, spent more time making jokes than actually playing, which was a nice distraction—until Franco started making subtle digs.

“You sure you don’t just want to be our caddy, Y/N?” Franco asked, adjusting his own stance. “It might be easier for you to handle.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, gripping my club tighter. “I’m fine, thanks.”

He grinned. “Just checking. I wouldn’t want you to feel left out.”

I lined up my shot, trying to focus, but it was impossible not to notice Franco standing a few feet away. His white shirt made his tan even more striking under the morning sun, and his hair, still slightly messy, added to that infuriating, effortless charm. My eyes kept drifting back to him—how the fabric clung to his broad shoulders, the casual confidence in every move. Just as I was about to swing, he caught me looking. That smug grin appeared, and I immediately looked away, gripping the club tighter. The nerves in my stomach went crazy suddenly. I swung too hard, sending the ball off into the trees, nowhere near the hole.

Lando snorted. “Wow. Impressive.”

I shot him a glare. “Shut up, Norris.”

Franco chuckled, his voice annoyingly smooth. “Need me to fetch that for you?”

“I’d rather fetch it myself than owe you any favors,” I snapped, heading off in the direction of the lost ball.

As I disappeared into the trees, I heard Lando muttering behind me, “They’re like an old married couple. It’s wild.”

I rolled my eyes, but the comment stayed with me as I searched for the ball. An old married couple? More like two neighbours in a judge judy episode. At least, that’s what I told myself.

When I finally returned, ball in hand, I noticed Franco lining up his shot, a smug look on his face. And of course, he hit it perfectly—right toward the hole, as if to rub salt in the wound.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, tossing my ball back onto the course.

“You’ll get it next time,” Franco said, his tone dripping with fake encouragement. “Maybe just... aim a little better.”

My jaw clenched. “I swear, if you say one more thing—”

“What? You’ll beat me with your superior golf skills?” He flashed that infuriating grin again, and something in me snapped.

“I’ll beat you with this club if you give me any more reason to,” I shot back. 

Lando, who was clearly enjoying the show, whistled. “Oh man, this is getting spicy. Should I grab popcorn for us Carlos?”

Carlos shook his head, finally sensing the rising tension. “Let’s keep it civil, guys.”

But that ship had already sailed. Franco and I were now locked in a full-blown competition, every swing of the club feeling like a personal challenge. My frustration grew with each passing round, especially as Franco continued to hit one perfect shot after another, all while making snide comments under his breath.

As Franco lined up for his next shot, he muttered something in Spanish, just loud enough for me to hear. “¿Cómo es posible que siempre estés tan enojada?” How is it possible that you're always so angry?

I stopped mid-swing, narrowing my eyes at him. “¿Perdón?” Excuse me?

“Digo, si te relajaras un poco, tal vez serías... soportable,” Franco replied with a shrug. “Dudo que sea posible, pero quién sabe.” I’m saying, if you relaxed a little, you might actually be... tolerable. I doubt it’s possible, but who knows.

I stepped closer, my voice dropping. “¿Soportable? No creo que tengas ningún derecho de hablar de soportar nada cuando eres el ser humano más insoportable que existe.” Tolerable? I don’t think you have any right to talk about tolerating anything when you’re the most insufferable human being that exists.

Franco chuckled, completely unfazed by my insult. “¿Ah sí? ¿Insoportable, yo?” Oh yeah? Insufferable, me?

“Sí, tú. ¿Te sorprende?” I shot back. “Porque honestamente no entiendo cómo alguien puede soportarte.” Yes, you. Does that surprise you? Because honestly, I don’t understand how anyone can stand you.

“Qué drama, Y/N. Si no sabías que te caía tan mal, tal vez me habría ahorrado el esfuerzo,” he replied, his tone mocking. What drama, Y/N. If I had known you hated me this much, maybe I would have saved myself the effort.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Eso sería genial.” That would be great.

Lando, hearing the rapid switch to Spanish, looked between us with raised eyebrows. “Whoa, what’s happening? Can we switch back to English? I’m missing all the tea.”

Carlos sighed, trying to keep the peace. “They’re just... passionate.”

Lando grinned. “Yeah, passionate about killing each other, maybe.”

Franco, still smirking, leaned in a little closer. “¿Sabes qué? Tal vez no te caigo tan mal como dices. Creo que te encanta pelear conmigo.” You know what? Maybe you don’t hate me as much as you say. I think you love fighting with me.

My frustration flared even more. “Me encantaría no tener que verte nunca más.” I’d love to never see you again.

“No creo que sea cierto,” Franco teased. I don’t think that’s true.

“¡Cállate!” I practically growled, my patience officially worn thin. Shut up!

Lando, now fully entertained, clapped his hands together. “Alright, alright. You two seriously need to cool off. This is golf, not a soap opera.”

Franco finally backed off, still grinning like he’d won the argument. I was fuming, and it didn’t help that every time I looked at him, he seemed so... calm. It was infuriating.

The rest of the game was a blur of snide comments, sarcastic remarks, and way too much tension for what was supposed to be a friendly game. By the end, I was ready to hurl my golf club into the nearest lake.

Lando, of course, took the whole thing in stride, wrapping an arm around both me and Franco as we finished up. “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it? We should do this again sometime. Maybe next time without the whole ‘I want to strangle you’ vibe.”

Franco chuckled, giving me a sideways glance. “I don’t know, I think the tension added something.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling away from Lando’s arm. “You would think that.”

Carlos, still oblivious to the volcanic-level tension, checked his phone. “Alright, let’s head back. We’ve got a busy schedule.”

Franco shot me one last smirk before following Carlos to the car. I stood there for a moment, watching him walk away, the frustration boiling over again.

Lando leaned in, his voice low. “You know, this whole enemies-to-lovers vibe you two have going on is a real treat for me.”

I shot him a glare. “There is no ‘lovers’ anything.”

He grinned. “Not yet, darling.”

With that, he jogged off after Carlos and Franco, leaving me standing there, shaking my head.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

.

After the hectic race weekend it was time to go home again, in Carlos’s case home was a beautiful country between France and Italy. Monaco was every bit as picturesque as people said—yachts dotting the harbor, luxury cars roaring through the narrow streets, and the smell of the sea mingling with high-end perfume in the air. It was the kind of place where the rich and famous went to flaunt what they had, and Carlos loved it. Naturally, he always loved inviting me for a visit. This time along with a certain Argentine unfortunately.

“Come on, Y/N,” Carlos had said when I tried to protest. “It’ll be fun! The weather’s perfect, we’ll explore the city, and we’ve got clubbing plans tonight. What could go wrong?”

So here I was, walking down the sun-drenched streets of Monaco with Franco striding a few steps ahead, Carlos chatting away beside him. The group had grown since we’d arrived—Alex Albon had joined us since he lived next door to Carlos, and Lando and Charles, both Monaco residents, decided to tag along as well.

“Alright, Carlos, I’ll admit it,” I said as we strolled through the streets. “Monaco’s got charm.”

Carlos grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “See? I told you. Best place in the world.”

I chuckled. “I’m not going that far, but I’m willing to appreciate it. I’d have more fun though if I didn’t have to watch Franco pretend he’s king of Monaco.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Relax. He’s not taking that title from Charles any time soon. He’s just enjoying Monte Carlo.”

“Yeah, enjoy it with every girl who crosses his path,” I muttered, watching as Franco winked at a passing woman who giggled in response.

Lando, catching my glare, sidled up beside me, grinning. “Ah, the drama is back. The sole reason why I’m here.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, though a smile tugged at my lips despite myself.

I was trying, really. The sun was shining, the atmosphere was relaxed, and even though Franco was a few steps ahead of me, I figured I could let it slide—for now. I wasn’t going to let him ruin my day in this beautiful place.

As we meandered through the harbor, I nudged Lando, who was soaking in the views with his usual enthusiasm. “Bet you wish you had a yacht like one of these.”

Lando flashed a grin. “Give me a couple more wins, and you’ll see me with the biggest one in the harbor.”

“Oh, you’ll name it after yourself, I’m sure,” I teased.

“Obviously. It’ll be called Seao,” he joked, striking a ridiculous pose.

“The what now?” I asked confused.

“Get it? Like Land-o, Sea-o?” he said with the proudest face ever. 

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ll be sure to stay far, far away from it.”

Lando gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “You wound me, Y/N. I was going to offer you the best cabin!”

The lighthearted banter was helping to keep my mood up, and even as Franco joined the conversation with that usual swagger, I managed to stay upbeat. For now.

“You know, Y/N,” Franco said, giving me that infuriating grin, “you’d look great on one of those yachts. You’ve got the whole ‘Monaco gold digger vibe’ down.”

I rolled my eyes, but the smile lingered on my face. “Nice try, Franco. Flattery’s not going to work on me.”

“Who said I was flattering you?” he shot back with a wink.

Before I could respond, Charles chimed in, proudly displaying his fashion choices for the evening. “What do you think of these pants?” he asked, clearly fishing for compliments on his intersting patchwork denim.

Lando snorted. “I think it’s a crime against fashion.”

I giggled, taking in the ridiculousness of Charles’s outfit. “It’s... bold, Charles. Very bold.”

Charles looked pleased. “It’s couture.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” I said with a laugh, earning an approving look from Lando.

The day continued on with playful banter and an easygoing atmosphere. We explored the city, enjoyed lunch at a café with an incredible view of the sea, and even though Franco occasionally made snide comments, I let them roll off my back. I wasn’t going to let him get under my skin today.

As the sun dipped behind the Monaco skyline, the group started getting ready for the night out. The air buzzed with excitement—everyone still riding the high from Lando’s win last week—but I couldn’t shake the unease settling in my stomach. I knew exactly what was coming. Franco, who looked like he’d just stepped out of some annoyingly perfect cologne ad, would be in full flirt mode, and I was not going to enjoy his little display. 

Lando, ever the showman, stretched dramatically as we gathered at Carlos’s apartment. “Monaco nightlife, everyone. Prepare yourselves for the full Norris experience.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “The Norris experience? What’s that? Getting involved in drama you didn’t start but somehow make worse?”

Lando smirked, undeterred. “Hey, the drama just follows me. I’m an innocent bystander.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure, innocent. I’m still trying to figure out how those girls at the last afterparty got into a massive fight about you and you walked away untouched.”

Charles snickered, nodding. “Lando’s like a magnet for girl drama. He’s always in the middle of the mess but always forgiven somehow.”

Lando shrugged with a grin. “What can I say? Some people just have that natural charm.”

Charles snickered. “No amount of charm can compete with Franco’s... well, Franco-ness.”

I sighed, already dreading the inevitable. “Yeah, lucky us. Another night watching him do his thing.”

We arrived at the club, neon lights flashing, music already pounding through the air. And, of course, Franco didn’t waste any time. Within minutes, he was at the bar, leaning in close to two women, his signature smirk on full display. The worst part? He looked effortlessly good. Hair perfectly tousled, his shirt just tight enough to show off his broad shoulders... it was annoying how well he pulled it off.

I slid into the booth next to Lando, my drink in hand, trying to ignore how damn good Franco looked tonight. “How long do you think it’ll take before he’s flirted with every girl in here?” I muttered.

Lando glanced over at Franco, then back at me, a grin already forming. “Hmm... five minutes, tops. He’s like a sniper. Quick, precise.”

Charles chuckled, leaning in. “Make that four. You look like you’re about to march over there and take him out yourself.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please. I couldn’t care less who he’s talking to.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Oh, really? Because that death stare you’re giving those girls suggests otherwise.”

“I am not giving them a death stare,” I shot back, probably a bit too defensively.

Charles smirked. “Sure you’re not. You’re just... monitoring the situation. Very closely.”

I scoffed, trying to keep my cool. “I just don’t understand how someone can be that... shallow.”

Lando shrugged, barely suppressing his laughter. “Or maybe he’s just really, really good-looking. I mean, come on, Y/N, you’ve noticed.”

I shot Lando a glare, but my cheeks felt hot. “Not helping, Lando.”

Lando leaned back in the booth, looking smug. “What? It’s okay to admit it. Franco’s got that whole ‘sexy and Spanish speaking’ thing going for him. You’re allowed to be jealous.”

I groaned, taking a bigger sip of my drink. “I’m not jealous. I just don’t get why people fall for that whole act.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, his grin only growing. “Oh, so it’s the act you’re mad at. Not the fact that he’s talking to those girls?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Exactly. It’s the act. He’s a walking cliché.”

Lando exchanged a glance with Charles, the two of them clearly enjoying my frustration. “Right, right, it’s the act. Not the fact that every time he smiles at them, you look like you want to burn this place down,” Lando teased.

I groaned, leaning further back into the booth. “You two are impossible.”

“Impossible, but not wrong,” Charles said, smirking as he raised his glass to toast. “To Franco’s charm—and Y/N’s growing annoyance.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not about the charm. It’s the fact that—”

“—he’s ridiculously good-looking, and it’s pissing you off?” Lando finished for me.

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. I hated that they weren’t entirely wrong. Franco was annoyingly good-looking. And watching him flash that stupid grin at anyone within a five-foot radius was making me grind my teeth.

“You’re so totally jealous,” Lando declared with a triumphant grin.

“I am not jealous,” I protested, feeling the heat rise in my face. “I just think it’s ridiculous that he’s—”

“—charming the entire club while he should be talking with you?” Charles added, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

I glared at them both, trying to keep my composure. “I don’t care who he talks to.”

“Right,” Lando said, winking. “That’s why you haven’t stopped looking at him since we sat down.”

I groaned, shaking my head. “I’m not doing this tonight.”

Lando raised his glass in mock toast. “Famous last words, Y/N. Famous last words.”

Charles chuckled, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “You know, if you suddenly get the urge to go over there and throw a drink in his face, I’ll cover the next round.”

I shot him a look. “I’m not throwing drinks at anyone. But if he flirts with one more girl, I might reconsider.”

Lando burst out laughing, nudging me. “I’ll be ready with the camera. Would make a killer lando.jpg comeback post.’”

I sighed, swirling my drink as Franco’s laughter drifted over from the bar. His stupid, perfect laugh. This was going to be a long night.

After ordering his drink, Franco sauntered back to the table, his usual cocky grin in place. “Having fun, Y/N?” he asked, his tone dripping with faux innocence.

“Oh, absolutely,” I replied sarcastically. “Watching you work your charm on half the club is just... delightful.”

Franco chuckled, sliding into the booth across from me. “You know, Y/N, you should try it sometime. Flirting. It might make you less... uptight.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Uptight?”

“You heard me.” He leaned back, smirking. “You’re always so... tense. Maybe if you loosened up, you’d have a bit more fun.”

I could feel my annoyance rising, but I forced a smile. “Right. Because flirting with strangers is the key to happiness.”

Franco shrugged. “It’s a start.”

“You are so sad.” I shot back. “Getting your validation from strangers, never taking anything seriously.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I take plenty of things seriously.”

“Really? Because it sure seems like all you care about is attention. Who you can charm next. Who’s going to fall for your dumb act.”

Franco’s smile faltered for just a second before he recovered. “And what exactly is your problem, Y/N? You act like you’re so above it all.”

“Maybe because I don’t need to rely on shallow charm to get by,” I retorted. “Some of us actually have depth.”

“Oh, right,” Franco said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “What is it exactly you rely on then? Besides your brother’s finances, of course.”

Switching to Spanish, I snapped, “¿Sabes qué? Estoy harta de tu actitud de sabelotodo.” You know what? I’m sick of your know-it-all attitude.

“¿Y qué vas a hacer al respecto?” Franco replied, his voice low and challenging. And what are you going to do about it?

“Voy a ignorarte, como debería haberlo hecho desde el principio,” I hissed. I’m going to ignore you, like I should have done from the start.

“Claro, porque ignorar las cosas es lo tuyo, ¿verdad?” Franco shot back. Of course, because ignoring things is what you do best, right?

Lando, who had been watching the exchange with wide eyes, suddenly jumped in. “Okay, hold up! Time-out. We’re not turning this club into a fight club, alright? I’ve seen Brad Pitt way too many times already this season.”

Carlos, still deep in conversation with Alex, remained blissfully unaware, but the tension at the table was palpable.

Franco leaned back, his smirk returning. “Whatever you say, Y/N. Keep telling yourself you’ve got it all figured out.”

I stood up, glaring at him. “You’re not worth this argument.”

“Good to know,” Franco replied with a shrug, as if the whole conversation had barely affected him.

I turned on my heel, heading straight for the bar to get another drink. As I left, I could still feel Franco’s eyes on me, that smug grin probably plastered on his pretty face. 

.

The night had that strange Monaco mix of high-energy and quiet tension. The streets were buzzing after our time at the club, but beneath the neon lights and laughter, something more was brewing. I could feel it in the air between Franco and me, unspoken but undeniable.

We all stood by the curb as Carlos waved down a taxi. My mood was already on edge after the club, and I just wanted to get home and forget about the whole night. Franco had been in his element—flirting, chatting, showing off—and I was done.

“Alright, taxi’s here!” Carlos called, gesturing for us to pile in.

I moved to follow, but then Lando, who had been suspiciously quiet, suddenly stepped in. “Actually, Carlos, Y/N and Franco are gonna hang back for a bit,” Lando said, his voice way too casual for someone who clearly had mischief on his mind.

Carlos blinked. “What? Why?”

“Yeah, why?” I echoed, shooting Lando a look.

Lando waved it off with a dismissive hand. “They need some air. Clear their heads. We’ll see you at the apartment.”

Before I could argue, Carlos shrugged and got into the taxi with Alex and Charles, the door closing behind them. In a flash, the car was gone, leaving Franco and me standing on the empty sidewalk, bathed in the glow of the streetlights.

“What the hell was that about?” I muttered, pulling out my phone.

As if on cue, it buzzed with a message from Lando:

Enjoy your walk ;)

I rolled my eyes, showing Franco the text. “Of course. He’s messing with us.”

Franco chuckled beside me, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Well, looks like we’re walking.”

I sighed, my frustration already simmering beneath the surface. “Great.”

We started walking in silence, the noise of Monaco nightlife fading behind us as we wound through the quieter streets. Franco was close, but not too close, keeping that distance we’d both grown used to. I could feel his green eyes burning on me occasionally, lingering a bit too long.

After a few minutes of walking, Franco finally spoke. “You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Oh yeah?” I replied, my voice laced with sarcasm. “About what? How great you are?”

He sighed, clearly realizing I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “About our date.”

I stopped walking, turning to face him. Dumb shock written over my face. The mention of our failed date had been hanging over us since we met again, but I thought he had forgotten me. “So you remember?”

Franco hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t ghost you on purpose, Y/N.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Then why didn’t you show up?”

He looked down at the ground, taking a deep breath. “I crashed during testing.”

That caught me off guard. “Wait, what?”

“I had a pretty bad crash during testing with my team,” Franco explained, lifting the sleeve of his shirt to show me a faint scar on his shoulder. “I was out for a while. It happened the morning before we were supposed to meet.”

I stared at the scar, my mind racing. “You crashed? That’s your excuse?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, pulling out his phone. “I’ve got footage of it if you don’t believe me. It wasn’t pretty.”

He handed me his phone, and I watched the video of the crash—his car spinning out of control, hitting the barrier, the wreckage that followed. My stomach twisted as I handed the phone back to him.

“I didn’t know,” I muttered, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me.

“I know,” Franco said, pocketing his phone. “By the time I was back on my feet, our chat on Raya was gone. I couldn’t reach you. Didn’t even know you were Carlos’s sister.”

I swallowed hard. Of course I deleted him first thing when I got home. “I figured you just... stood me up.”

Franco shook his head. “I never wanted to. I wanted to explain, but I didn’t know how and honestly... I didn’t want to make it worse. Honestly, I am so sorry Y/N. I did not handle this well at all.”

I stared at him, the anger and hurt I’d held onto for so long starting to unravel. “I just thought you were another guy playing games.”

“I wasn’t playing games,” Franco said, his voice soft but serious. 

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. “If we are having a heart to heart, there is something I have to get off my chest as well.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

I took a deep breath, deciding it was time to tell the whole truth. “I’ve been traveling with Carlos because... well, because I didn’t really have a choice. I used to be a tennis player. A good one. But I had an injury—tore my ACL. It ended my career.”

Franco’s eyes softened as he listened.

“I’ve been a bit lost ever since. Carlos thought taking me to races would cheer me up, keep me busy,” I continued. “But that’s why I’m here. Not because I want to profit off of him.”

Franco’s expression shifted, guilt flickering across his face. “I didn’t know, Y/N. I... I’m sorry. I’ve been a jerk.”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice catching slightly. “You kind of have.”

There was a heavy silence between us as everything settled. The frustration, the misunderstandings, all the things we hadn’t said to each other. It felt like we were standing at the edge of something, ready to fall.

Franco’s voice was low when he finally spoke. “You think I don’t take anything seriously, but... I do. I’ve worked my ass off to get here, and I am trying so hard to make it to next year. But you keep talking like you’ve got me all figured out. Like I’m some shallow, cocky guy who just flirts his way through life.”

“Isn’t flirting your way through life exactly what you do, though?” I shot back, my frustration flaring again.

Franco’s eyes darkened. “No. But you wouldn’t know that because you never gave me a chance. You just made up your mind about me from the start.”

“Because all you’ve shown me is that side of you!” I snapped. “You literally flirted with every girl at the club tonight. How was I supposed to think otherwise?”

“Instead of judging me, you could just admit that you're jealous,” Franco fired back, his voice rising.

“Judging you? You’re the one who’s been making up stuff about me from the moment we met!” I shouted, the anger boiling over now. “While you don’t know anything about me!”

“¡Porque no me dejas conocerte!” Franco shouted back in Spanish, his voice raw. Because you won’t let me get to know you!

“¡No hay nada que conocer!” I yelled, my heart pounding. There’s nothing to get to know!

Franco stepped even closer, his eyes blazing. “¡No digas eso! Sé que hay más en ti. Lo he visto, pero siempre estás empujándome lejos.” Don’t say that! I know there’s more to you. I’ve seen it, but you keep pushing me away.

I clenched my fists, trying to hold back the flood of emotions. “¡No quiero que te acerques!” I don’t want you to get close!

“¿Por qué? ¿Porque te asusta?” Franco asked, his voice softer but still intense. Why? Because it scares you?

“¡Porque no confío en ti!” I shot back. Because I don’t trust you!

There was a beat of silence, both of us standing there, breathing heavily. The street was quiet around us, but the energy between us was electric, almost unbearable.

My breath caught in my throat.

“¡Eres tan... frustrante!” I yelled, my voice cracking. You’re so... frustrating!

“¿Sabes qué más eres?” Franco said, his voice lowering, his eyes burning into mine. “Eres tan sexy cuando te enojas.” You know what else you are? You’re so sexy when you’re angry.

The words hit me like a shockwave, and for a moment, I was too stunned to respond. Before I could even think, Franco closed the gap between us and kissed me.

It wasn’t just any kiss—it was fiery, intense, and filled with all the pent-up emotion we’d been holding back for what felt like weeks. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer, and I didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, all the frustration and tension melting away in that single moment.

His lips were soft. I melted into him, my hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing heavily, the weight of everything we hadn’t said hanging between us.

I stared at him, my mind racing. “Franco...”

He smiled, his hand still resting on my waist. “Finally.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you like it,” he said with a grin.

I didn’t argue.

We walked the rest of the way home in silence, but this time, the tension between us had shifted. There was no more anger, no more resentment—just something new, something that hadn’t been there before. My hand was still in Franco’s, and I hadn’t even thought about pulling it away.

The soft hum of the Monaco streets accompanied us as we approached Carlos’s apartment. The usual quiet after a night out seemed louder now, like it was filling the space where our words had been. My heart was still racing from the kiss, and every time Franco’s shoulder brushed mine, that warmth spread through me again.

I glanced over at him, catching him looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He smiled—a small, almost shy one—and I couldn’t help but smile back. That smug smirk he’d worn all night was gone, replaced with something softer. It was the first time I’d seen him look... real.

As we reached the entrance to the building, Franco opened the door for me, his hand gently resting on the small of my back as I stepped inside. The gesture was subtle, but it sent a wave of warmth through me.

Inside, the familiar scent of Carlos’s apartment hit me—clean, with a hint of cologne that always lingered in the air. The place was quiet, save for the faint sound of the ocean outside. It felt surreal, like everything that had happened tonight had been part of some strange dream.

Lando was, of course, sprawled out on the couch, his feet up, his phone in hand. The second we walked in, he glanced up, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“Well, well, well,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Look who finally made it home.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at my lips. “Shut it, Norris.”

“Awww look at you, Y/N!” Lando replied, wiggling his eyebrows. “Blushing. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Franco chuckled beside me, his hand still resting lightly on my lower back. “Nice work, Lando,” he called over his shoulder as we walked past Lando toward the hallway.

Lando just winked, not missing a beat. “What can I say? I have a gift.”

As we walked down the hallway toward the guest rooms, I felt the tension ease from my body, replaced by a strange kind of peace. Franco’s presence beside me didn’t feel overwhelming anymore. It felt... comforting.

“Do you want to go back to that rooftop restaurant?” Franco’s voice was soft, a whisper just between us as we stopped in front of my door.

I turned to face him, my heart doing a little flip at the thought. “Are you asking me on a second first date?”

He grinned, but it was different now. Less cocky, more sincere. “Yeah. A real one. No crashes, I promise.”

I smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “I’d like that.”

For a moment, neither of us moved, the weight of everything unsaid still lingering in the air. But instead of more words, Franco leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before pulling back and meeting my eyes.

“Buenas noches, hermosa,” he whispered, his voice like a warm caress.

“Buenas noches, Franco,” I replied, my voice equally soft.

[sparkrls]

girl uncle

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry becomes an uncle and has a bad case of baby fever

Author’s Note: congratulations to Gemma, i’m so happy for her and the entire Styles family. if this sucks, it's because babies scare me and i tried to write a fic about baby fever... not my smartest move

Word Count: 1k

···

“Baby? You okay?” Y/N murmured, brushing the hair out of Harry’s face. His lower lip trembling as he stared at the rose-flushed baby.

Harry shook his head, the first tear trailing down his cheek. Y/N could never stand to see him weep. It made something inside of her shatter as he lost his composure.

Y/N wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. He leaned his head against her shoulder, tears trailing down his face and onto her shirt. His eyes never left the baby.

Gemma laid fast asleep in the bed behind them. In a little while, the nurse would come in to check in on the baby and Gemma. But for now, Harry and Y/N were left with a sleeping Gemma and a baby to gaze at.

Harry had been stressed out of his mind when Michal called to tell them Gemma’s water had broken and they were headed to the hospital. He had fussed over every detail, and Y/N had been the one to grab the car keys and usher him out of the house. She knew he wasn’t in any mental state to be driving.

The time in the waiting room had been spent by Y/N helping Michal with all the paperwork and Harry pacing in circles. She’d gotten him a tea and ordered him to sit down. As he sipped on his tea, his face still in an anxious frown, she’d pressed a notebook and pen in his hands. Y/N had cupped his face in her hands and instructed, “Everything on your mind, write it down. All the anxious overthinking- lay it down on the page.”

Harry had done so, filling a worrying amount of pages with all that was on his mind. She had skimmed it and found he kept repeating certain thoughts, a clear sign he was just in a spiral of overthinking.

Y/N sat down next to him and simply hugged him until the tension in his muscles dissipated and he relaxed- not completely, but enough to soothe her worries.

When they’d finally been let into the room to see an exhausted Gemma, grinning Michal and a fussy baby, Harry had been handed the baby to hold. He rocked her lightly in his arms, smiling down at her.

“You’re a girl uncle,” Y/N had said teasingly. Harry grinned nonetheless.

That had led them to this, a day after the currently unnamed baby was born. The sun had long set on the horizon, and dark flooded the streets with lamplights turned on.

“We’re adults now,” Harry whispered lowly, as to not rouse the sleeping figures in the room. He sniffled. “I can still remember being kids and climbing trees. How Gemma cleaned up my knee when I scraped it learning to ride a bike. And look at her now.”

A warmth spread in Y/N’s chest, somewhere between happiness and an indescribable satisfaction at knowing they’d made it this far. And a melancholic feeling thinking about how they used to worry about whether their parents would let them go out to the park with their friends or not. Now, they would soon become the parents themselves.

Harry sighed, and she wiped his tears away from his cheeks. Y/N placed a tender kiss on his forehead and said, “You’re an uncle now.”

Looking up at her as if she’d been the one to freckle the sky with stars, Harry said, “Uncle Harry. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips. “Definitely.”

“Dad would sound even better,” Harry whispered, pressing himself close to her and nuzzling his nose against her neck. “Don’t you agree?”

Eyebrows raised in light surprise, Y/N asked, “You want to…?”

Harry nodded. “Wouldn’t it be nice?” He whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had that soft look in his eye he always got whenever he talked about their future. “Maybe a ring on your finger before… and then a baby in your belly.”

“You’ve got baby fever,” Y/N groaned quietly, turning her head away from him. Her gaze landed on the baby again, wrapped in a light pink blanket. For a moment, she imagined that being her baby. And a rush of affection swelled in her chest, a pinch of fear tingling on her fingertips.

Fuck, maybe she had baby fever as well.

They certainly did look adorable, faces all scrunched up, skin a rosy pink and fingers all chubby.

“Is that a no?” Harry prompted quietly.

Y/N sighed as if she were exhausted by him. They both knew her every word was laced with affection, “How’d you go from crying ‘cause your sister’s a mom now to begging for a baby?”

“Marriage and a baby,” Harry said, matter-of-factly. “Get your facts straight.”

Holding back a laugh, Y/N said, “Begging for marriage and a baby.” She took one good look at the man beside her, with brown curls and green eyes that looked almost a forest green in this light. “I never could say no to you.”

“That’s a yes?” Harry asked hopefully, leaning in close.

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately. "It means be patient. We'll see how things go." She gave him a playful glare. "But we are having a wedding before a baby. Got it, Styles?"

"Got it, baby,” Harry confirmed with a grin. He knew he was going to get what he wanted. Maybe more in the future, he would spend an obscene amount of money on a Tiffany engagement ring and a Vivienne Westwood wedding dress. But for now, those plans were stowed away in Harry’s mind. They would come to fruition eventually. It was just a matter of time.

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - seven (finale)

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"

word count: 6.3k

warnings: last chapter <3

You’ve been to Kildare County Sheriff’s Department way more times than you care to admit

Being the oldest kid in your family—and somehow the only actual adult—you lost count of how many times you had to drag your dad out of jail between the ages of sixteen and twenty. It felt like a full-time job.

Then there were the countless times you’d been there for your friends. 

JJ, for instance, had been taken in more than once for public disturbances. It was almost a given that he'd end up in that shithole whenever there was a party or some kind of trouble brewing. You knew every officer by name, and they knew you too. Some gave you that look—you know, the one that said, “Oh, sweetie, you again?”—while others just shook their heads, probably wondering when you would finally stop playing caretaker and start looking out for yourself.

But you always showed up, no matter what, because that’s what you did. You took care of your own.

The first time you had to pick up your dad, you were sixteen. Brand new driver’s license, barely knew how to parallel park, and boom, you’re getting woken up at like 2 a.m. because your dad’s been arrested. You were shaking the whole time, gripping the steering wheel like your life depended on it, eyes blurry with tears. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him wasted or bruised up, but this time felt different. This time, it hit you that this was gonna be your life now.

You were stuck.

You remember pulling up to the station, parking all kinds of crooked because your hands wouldn’t stop trembling. You ran inside, still half-asleep, and the officer at the desk gave you this sad little smile. “He’s in the back,” he said, like you didn’t already know.

When you saw your dad slumped over, bruised, and barely awake, something inside you just... cracked. He looked up, and for a second, he recognized you. “Hey, kiddo,” he mumbled, still drunk, still out of it. Back then, there was still some part of him left, some shred of the man he used to be.

You signed the papers, helped him stumble to the car, and drove home in silence while he passed out in the passenger seat. It was the first of so many nights like that. And you knew it wasn’t gonna be the last. When you finally pulled into the driveway, you helped him inside and onto the couch. He mumbled a thank you before passing out, his snores filling the room.

Now, sitting in the small, stuffy waiting room of the sheriff’s department, you glance around, feeling a knot of tension tightening in your stomach, the fluorescent lights doing little to help, making everything appear sterile and unforgiving.

You wish you could be anywhere but here.

JJ’s next to you, his leg bouncing like he’s got caffeine running through his veins instead of blood. You’re already annoyed, and it doesn’t help that Rafe is sitting on your other side, looking just as pissed off.

“Will you stop bouncing your leg JJ?” You grit out, already irritated from waiting longer than an hour.

“Why the fuck did he have to come?” JJ mutters, throwing daggers at Rafe with his eyes.

“JJ, not now.” You put your hand on his arm, trying to keep him from starting something. The last thing you need is another fight.

JJ glares, but his jaw clenches shut. “This is so messed up,” he grumbles.

“Messed up is leaving your sister alone with your drunk piece of shit father.”

“Like I knew he was there, you dumbass?” JJ shoots back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe stop leaving her alone.”

“Oh, here we go,” you mutter, feeling the tension rise again. The last thing you need right now is for these two to start another fight.

Ever since JJ came back to the mainland only to pick you up from Taneyhill, things had been…tense. It was one thing to talk about you and Rafe, it was a completely different thing to see you together.

You know your brother hates every second of it. 

“Oh, but you wanna talk about drunk pieces of shit? How many times did your daddy bail you out?” 

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his fists clenching, “How many times did you make your sister bail you out, huh?”

"You wanna talk about sisters too?"

You shut your eyes, attempting to ignore the way they’re clawing each other’s throats out with tainted insults. It was a miracle they're standing in the same room without killing each other, but you can only take so much. It’s like they’re about to throw punches, right there in the middle of the sheriff’s office.

"Shut the fuck up Maybank."

“Fuck you, Cameron!” JJ snaps, standing up so fast his chair skids backward, “You think you’re better than us?”

Rafe stands up too, stepping closer to JJ, “Better than you? Yes.”

“Don’t act like you’re doing this for her,” JJ scoffs. “You’ve never helped anyone but yourself, you manipulative asshole.”

“That’s enough,” you snap, standing up and stepping between them, pushing them apart. Your voice is shaking with frustration. “You two are going to shut the fuck up or take this shit outside. It’s nine in the morning. I didn’t get a wink of sleep, and I’m not gonna sit here and hear you two bitch it you.”  

JJ glares at Rafe over your shoulder. “We don’t need this asshole’s help. We can handle it ourselves.”

Rafe sneers. “Handle it? Like you’ve handled everything else?”

Your brother lunges forward, but you push him back, your voice shaking. “Sit your ass down or leave, I’m not going to repeat myself.”

They both just stare at you, their harsh words still hanging in the air of this stuffy room. The tension is almost suffocating, but there's no way you’re letting them keep tearing each other apart. You’re exhausted, emotionally and physically drained. The last thing you need right now is to play mediator between them… again.

Rafe finally sits down, arms crossed, biting his tongue—for your sake, you know. JJ’s sitting too now, still fidgeting like he always does, tapping his fingers against the armrest.

"Look," you say, your voice still firm, "We're here for a reason. Let's just get through this and get out, okay?"

Your brother just grunts, glaring at the wall like it’s personally offended him. Rafe lets out a sigh and gives you the tiniest nod, like a reluctant “fine.” You sit back down, feeling a bit of the weight in your chest ease up. Rafe leans in and gently takes your hand, mouthing, "I’m sorry." You give it a little squeeze—apology accepted, for now.

JJ notices but looks away too quickly for you to read him. You know he’s pissed, but at least for the moment, he’s staying quiet.

The minutes crawl by, each one feeling like forever, and finally, a cop shows up at the door, calling your name. The three of you stand up at the same time, and Rafe and JJ follow behind you, silent but close, as you walk down the hallway.

The clanging of barred doors shutting behind you makes your stomach twist, and you eventually end up in a small interrogation room. The officer gestures to a chair, "Take a seat." He heads off to get paperwork, and you glance at Rafe, who’s watching you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You know he won’t relax until your dad is completely out of the picture.

Your brother, on the other hand, leans against the wall with crossed arms, a brooding expression on his face. He's always been protective, even if his way of showing it often led to clashes with others. You wish things could be different.

Officer Malcom comes back with a stack of papers, but before you can even look at them, Rafe’s lawyer, Mr. Johnson, walks in. Rafe's had him on speed dial since the whole mess started, and honestly, he's been a lifesaver. He sits beside you, reviewing the papers calmly, and just having him there makes everything feel a little less scary.

“Alright, folks, let's go through this step by step. The first form here is the petition for a temporary restraining order. It outlines the incidents and reasons for seeking protection.”

“Are these incidents documented with the sherrif’s office?” Mr. Johnson's expertise is evident in the way he examines the document meticulously.

“Yes, sir. We have reports dating back to—" Officer Malcom stops for a second, checking the data, “About eight years ago, give or take.”

Rafe’s head snaps in your direction, brows furrowed, clearly pissed off that this has been going on for that long without anyone doing anything. You try to ignore it, focusing on the papers in front of you instead.

“What happens after I file this?

“Once filed, a judge will review the petition. If approved, a temporary restraining order will be issued, usually effective immediately. Then, there'll be a hearing within a few weeks to determine if a permanent order is necessary.”

“What if he doesn't abide by the temporary order?” 

The officer only nods sympathetically. “Violating a restraining order is a criminal offense. He could face fines, jail time, or both.”

Rafe’s still looking at you, “Does she have to serve him personally with these papers?”

“It’s crucial that he’s officially notified. We handle that part, though.”

Rafe’s lawyer is taking notes when he speaks up again, “If he contests the order, he’ll have the opportunity to present his side at the hearing. Both parties can bring witnesses or evidence. But based on your father’s behavior, that’s unlikely.”

You hope to God he doesn’t. The thought of seeing him again makes you feel like you might throw up. You take a deep breath, hands itching to twirl a piece of your hair.

“How long does the process usually take?”

You feel a hand touch your shoulder, gently tightening the grip around the skin, you don’t have to look back to know it’s Rafe. By now you know the lines and the ridges of his hands as if they are your own.

"The timeline can vary, but typically, from filing to the hearing, it might take a few weeks. It depends on the court's schedule and any potential delays."

You nod, absorbing the information while trying to steady your breathing. None of this feels real. Not the legal stuff, not the fact that this could actually be over soon. As the conversation continues, Mr. Johnson outlines the next steps clearly, discussing what will happen during and after the hearing. 

The officer quickly gathers the papers in his hands, “I’ll get everything started then. Just a moment.”

As he leaves to process the paperwork, a brief silence settles over the room. You exchange glances with JJ and Rafe, both of them entirely too interested of the concrete floor. 

“This is the right thing to do, right?”

You know it is. You’ve known for years, but it’s still hard to understand how it came to this. Your life could’ve been so different. 

JJ nods, fiddling with his shark tooth necklace, the one you’d given him when he was seven. “Yeah. He shouldn’t be able to just...” He trails off shaking his head.

Rafe squeezes your shoulder once more, then lowers himself to your level and plants a quick peck on your temple, “You’ve got this. It’ll be okay.”

Mr. Johnson finally puts his pen away, turning to you, “I’ll stay on top of the filings and keep you updated on any developments.”

This moment is a culmination of years of struggle. It's daunting, but you’re not alone. 

 "Thank you.”

JJ shifts his weight, his agitation visible. "I hate this," he mutters. 

"I know," you reply, not knowing what else to say.

The door swings open again, and Officer Malcom re-enters, holding a stack of papers. "Alright," he says, handing you a pen. "Just sign here, and we'll get this process started."

You take the pen with shaky hands, knowing there’s no going back after this. As you sign your name, you can't help but sigh in relief.

This is a step towards freedom.

Rafe watches you intently, his eyes full of concern. He reaches out, placing a hand on your back, a little reminder that he's here for you. JJ stands close by, his protective instincts on high alert.

After you finish signing, Officer Malcom takes the papers and gives you a reassuring nod. "We'll take care of the rest. You should hear from us soon about the next steps."

You stand up, feeling a little lighter, but the emotional toll of the day still kicks your ass. As you make your way out of the room, Rafe keeps a steady hand on your back, guiding you.

Once outside, the morning sun feels almost blinding after the harsh fluorescent lights of the station. JJ immediately lights a cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling with a sigh. 

Rafe looks at you, his expression softening. "You're good?"

You nod, managing a small smile. "Yeah, I think so. Thank you for being here, both of you."

JJ smirks, though there's a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Where else would I be?”

You glance at the two men beside you, each representing a different part of your world. Your brother stubs out his cigarette, glancing over at Rafe with an exaggerated sigh. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“Gotta admit, I never thought I'd see the day when 'Rafe the Retch' would be helping us out.”

A laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it, but you quickly cover it up, turning it into a cough. You’d forgotten about that one.

Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up. “'Rafe the Retch'? Seriously, what the fuck?”

“Ask her,” JJ nods in your direction.

“You called me that shit?”

You bite your lip, “To be fair, I called you worse things.”

Rfe tilts his head, hands on his hips, “Like what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

The three of you start walking toward the parking lot, as you reach the cars, JJ pulls you into a quick, tight hug. “We’re gonna get through this,” he murmurs, his voice filled with determination. 

You hug him back, “I know, Jay.”

Rafe stands a few feet away, watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression. When your brother finally lets you go, he steps closer, “Ready to go?”

JJ looks at you, the concern in his eyes clear. "I gotta head to work. Do you want a ride home? It's on the way.”

You glance at Rafe, then back at JJ, sensing his reluctance. “No but thank you.”

JJ’s shoulders tense, but he nods, trying to hide his disappointment. "Alright. Just... call me if you need anything, okay?"

You smile, appreciating his concern. "I will. Drive safe."

He nods again, glancing one more time at Rafe before getting into his truck and driving off. You watch him go, knowing that things are still far from being okay between the two of you.

You know he’s never going to change his opinion about Rafe, maybe not until he witnesses the changes in him, but you hope that one day they’ll find some common ground. It’s a lot to ask from your brother, you know that, and it’s why you never push him. 

“You sure you’re doing okay?”

You nod, leaning into Rafe now that he stands behind you, “Yeah, just a little tired.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you towards his car, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

"Barely," you admit. "Just couldn't stop thinking about today.”

He unlocks the car, opening the passenger door for you. "Well, now that it's done, you can rest. I’ll even put that bullshit show you like.”

You gasp ready to punch him in the shoulder, but by the time you turn he’s already on the other side of the car, “Love Island is not a stupid show!”

He chuckles as he starts the engine. "If you say so.”

“You watch it too.”

“Only because you force me to,” Rafe counters, a playful glint in his eyes.

It’s been a month since the nightmare with your dad, and you’ve pretty much been living at Rafe’s new place ever since. Sure, you’ve got your own house, but it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. Rafe’s apartment though? It’s like your little safe haven now. You don’t officially live there, but who are you kidding? Most of your stuff is in his drawers, he’s stocked the bathroom with all your skincare, hair stuff, even a toothbrush. He tried to go all-out, buying you everything, and you kept telling him to stop, but it’s like talking to a wall. You gave up eventually.

As he pulls out of the parking lot, his hand slides over to grab yours. It’s such a simple thing, but it makes the tight feeling in your chest ease a little. You’re both quiet for most of the drive, but it’s not awkward or anything. It’s actually kind of nice. You never imagined he’d be so...attached. Things between you are still...somewhat undefined, but it definitely feels like a relationship. That thought is pushed to the back of your mind for now. It's just not the right moment to talk about it—not with his father’s trial only weeks away and your own dad still recovering in the hospital.

When you pull up to his apartment, the building feels familiar in a way that makes your stomach flip. He hops out of the car and, as usual, rushes around to open your door for you. It’s such a small thing, but it always makes your heart race.

Once inside, the place feels so different from the craziness of the day. It’s cozy, warm, and just... safe. You kick off your shoes and flop onto the couch, sinking into the cushions.

“Wanna watch your show?” Rafe asks, giving you that half-smile you’ve come to love.

You chuckle, feeling lighter than you have all day. “And you say you don’t love it.”

He grabs the remote and turns on the TV, navigating to the show. As the familiar theme song starts playing, you snuggle closer to him, finding comfort in the routine. It's all trashy drama and ridiculous contestants, but it’s the distraction you desperately need. Rafe’s arm stays around you, like always. But as the episode progresses, your eyelids grow heavy. The events of the day, combined with the sleepless night, catch up to you. You feel yourself drifting off, your head resting against Rafe’s chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm lulling you to sleep.

“Rest, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing whisper. “I’ve got you.”

Next thing you know, you wake up to the smell of something cooking. Blinking your eyes open, you realize Rafe’s in the kitchen, and the living room is dimly lit. A blanket slips off your shoulders as you sit up, and when you look over, he’s already smiling at you.

You’ve seen him smile more times over the past month than all the years you had “known” him combined. It looks good on him, makes him look younger. 

Stretching, you ask, “What’s all this?”

“Dinner. Figured you could use a good meal,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal that he’s cooked for you.

You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. “Look at you, Chef Rafe.”

Ever since he moved in on his own, he’s been slowly learning how to take care of himself. You’ve caught him watching cooking and deep cleaning videos more times you can count. You find it endearing. It makes your chest ache, in a good way, to watch him slowly turn into his own person, not the Rafe his father shaped him to be.

He chuckles, giving you a quick forehead kiss. “Eat before it gets cold.”

You sit down, and the first bite has you practically moaning. He snorts at your reaction, but you can tell he’s proud of himself. As you eat, though, you notice he seems a little off. His shoulders are tight, and there’s something in his eyes that makes you pause. You reach across the table, placing your hand over his.

"What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Rafe. What’s wrong?”

He hesitates, then sighs. “Got a call from my lawyer. About Ward.”

The mention of his dad sends a chill down your spine. “What about him?”

Rafe’s thumb brushes your knuckles as he looks down. “He wants to talk.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

Rafe's jaw tightens, and he lets out a slow breath. “Yeah. But every time I’ve tried to stand up to him, it’s backfired."

You squeeze his hand, “He can’t hurt you anymore, you know that, right? You're not the same person you were before," you remind him gently. "You've grown so much, Rafe. You’ve made your own life."

He looks up at you, his gaze softening. The intensity in his eyes is clear—vulnerability, determination, and a deep-seated fear. It's as if he’s silently pleading for your reassurance, for the strength to face his demons.

“You think so?”

It's in the way his eyes become softer when they meet yours, the slight quiver in his lips, the way he holds your hand just a little tighter.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Okay. I…I’ll think about it.”

The two of you finish dinner, the conversation shifting to lighter topic. After cleaning up, you find yourselves back on the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background. 

Everything feels so domestic it pulls at your heartstrings. And it hits you how much you love this, just being here with him.

But you can still feel the tension rolling off him. You turn to him, tracing little patterns on his chest. “You’re still worried, huh?”

He sighs, throwing his head against the cushions, his hand coming up to rest on yours. "Yeah. I’m scared talking to him will pull me back into that dark place.”

You press a kiss to his clothed chest. “You won’t go back there. Not while I’m here.”

He tightens his hold on you, “You know you’re too good for this world. It’s ridiculous.”

You narrow your eyes, “Am not.”

“Yeah, you are, Pretty Maybank.”

There it is. That nickname. “You know that’s so stupid, right?”

He grins, completely unbothered. “You love it.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “I tolerate it.”

He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. “Fits you perfectly.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the grin tugging at your lips.

“If you say so.”

His eyes soften as he looks at you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand. “I do.”

“Shup up,” You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t even know how you came up with that shit.”

Rafe laughs, the sound low and rumbling, his hand moving to rub your leg.  “It’s really stupid.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “’Course it is.”

“Remember when we were fourteen, and we were both at the beach for that huge surf competition? You were this cocky, skilled little girl with an ego bigger than the waves.”

“And you were a suck-up mother—"

“Anyways,” He rolls his eyes, ignoring the way you tried to cut him off, his hand now lightly squeezing your knee, “You were out there showing off, catching wave after wave. I was so fucking annoyed."

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. “Oh, so you were secretly in awe of me?”

“Maybe,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “Or maybe I was just bitter because you made me look bad.”

“I made everyone look bad.”

“Okay, Gabriel Medina. You were out there showing off, making everyone watch you like you owned the ocean. All the boys were ogling you, calling you pretty, and you were loving every second of it.”

You smirk, remembering the day. "I was pretty good, wasn’t I?”

“Good?” He snorts, shaking his head as his fingers trail up and down your thigh. “You were more than good, you were unreal.”

"Yeah, yeah, so how does that tie into the nickname?”

“You came out of the water, hair all messy, sand on your skin, but you had this huge smile. One of the boys called you 'Pretty Maybank,' and you just laughed, brushing it off. But I— I guess I remembered it. It fit you.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off, "I...I didn’t know you remembered that."

“You’re kinda hard to forget Maybank.”

Your heart flutters at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it hard to breathe, “Shut up.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, his hand cradling the back of your head. It only lasts a few seconds, before you’re pulling away, mumbling against his lips.

 “You know, it’s funny. Back then, I thought you were just this arrogant piece of shit who was always trying too hard to fit in.”

“That’s so sweet.”

You cup his face, brushing your thumbs across his cheeks, “Hmm. You were always showing off, too.”

“Well,” he drawls, pulling you a little closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, “We both grew out of that phase. Mostly.”

“Mostly,” you agree with a grin. “But I guess some things never change.”

“Yeah,” He doesn't take his eyes off your face, “Some things don’t change. 

There’s a brief silence, filled with the quiet sound of the TV and the comfortable presence of each other. His fingers continue to trace patterns on your hand, and you can feel his earlier stress easing if only a little.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” He admits quietly, “With you.”

“We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”

Rafe’s fingers gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear, “Yeah, we have.”

“I’ll keep you in check, Cameron.”

He holds you tighter, his breath mingling with yours. “You're too good for me, y’know that?”

You laugh, “I know.”

Before you can react, his fingers are dancing across your sides, tickling you mercilessly. You squeal, wriggling and trying to escape his grasp, but he’s relentless.

"Rafe!” You gasp between fits of laughter.

"Say sorry,” he demands, his fingers still working their magic.

"Never!" you manage to choke out, tears of laughter streaming down your face.

He grins wickedly, the movement driving your tummy insane.

"Wrong answer."

You squirm in his grip, the tickling intensifying. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" you finally relent, breathless and giggling.

Rafe stops, his hands coming to rest on your waist. His grin is triumphant, but there's a softness in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. "That's what I thought," he muses, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You catch your breath, still smiling. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be a tough guy, you’re surprisingly good at this domestic stuff."

He chuckles, pulling you closer until you're nestled against him.

"What can I say? You bring out the best in me, Pretty Maybank."

"I like this," you admit softly. "Being here with you, just... us."

"Me too," Rafe murmurs, his hand gently stroking your hair. "Feels right, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does.”

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Three weeks later, Rafe finally agrees to visit Ward in prison.

His lawyer arranged the meeting, emphasizing the importance of having this conversation to find closure. Despite your protests, Rafe insisted on doing this alone. Plus, prison's security measures are stringent, and there’s no way you could accompany him inside.

Instead, you’re stuck waiting outside, the anxiety killing you slowly. You're sitting on a bench outside the high-security prison, your foot tapping nervously against the ground.

The sun is blazing, making the wait even more unbearable. You wish you could be in there with him, supporting him. You glance at the ugly building, feeling desperate to get the hell away. Your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. It’s a text from JJ.

"how's it going?"

You quickly type back.

"he just went in. kinda losing my mind out here."

"he’ll be okay. devil spawn and all yk".

"not helping???"

"my bad sis, just trying to lighten the mood. seriously though, he's got this."

You sigh, putting your phone down and glancing around the barren surroundings. The high walls and barbed wire of the prison seem to loom even larger now. Time drags on, every minute feels like an hour. You find yourself looking at the entrance every few seconds, hoping to see Rafe walk out.

Inside, Rafe is led through a maze of corridors, the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the cold concrete walls. The guards are stoic, their faces expressionless as they guide him to the visitation room. His heart pounds in his chest, but he forces himself to stay calm, to stay focused. He's going to be just fine.

When he finally walks in the room, he sees Ward already seated, the older man looking surprisingly composed. Of course he'd care about his appearance even when he's locked up. There's a glass partition between them, with phones on either side for communication. Rafe sits down, picking up the phone with a shaky hand. He wishes you were here. 

Ward's eyes are piercing as they lock onto Rafe's. "Look who finally decided to visit," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Took you time, boy."

Rafe takes a deep breath. This is it.

"Only came to tell you something."

Ward raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Oh? And what's that? That you’re an ungrateful piece of shit?”

Ignore him, your voice echoes in his head. He knew Ward was going to try to get a rise out of him and he hates that it might work.

"I'm done," Rafe says, his voice steady. "You don't control me anymore."

“After everything I've done for you?"

Rafe's grip on the phone tightens. "You didn't do shit for me. You did it for yourself."

Ward leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "You have no idea what you're talking about, boy. You need me."

"No, I don't," Rafe retorts, “No one needs you.”

Ward's eyes flash with anger, but he quickly masks it with a calculating smile. "Is that what you really think, son? That you can just walk away from everything? From me?"

Rafe feels a rush of anger fighting it's way up his throat, but he holds it back, remembering your words. He takes another breath, steadying himself, “I don’t care.”

Ward's smile fades, replaced by a sneer. "You think you're so strong now, don't you? Do you think you can survive out there without my influence? The world is a cruel place, Rafe. You won't last a day. You think that Maybank trash is gonna solve all your problems, huh?”

“You’re not getting under my skin.”

Ward's eyes narrow further, and he leans in closer to the glass, his voice dropping to a whisper. "So, it’s about her now, is it? What makes you think she’ll be any better for you than I was? She doesn’t know you like I do."

Rafe’s temper flares, but he forces himself to stay calm. He can’t take the bait.

"Keep her out of this.”

“You think you’re so righteous, so superior. You’ll need more than just some girl to get you through.”

“I don’t need you,” Rafe insists, his voice firm. “I never did.” 

Ward’s expression turns cold once more, but there’s a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe just a reflection of his anger. “You can pretend you’re free, but you know I’m not so easily forgotten.”

Rafe takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed. “I don’t need to hear anything else from you. I’m done.”

“You won’t be able to keep her safe.”

He knew the conversation wouldn’t be longer than five minutes.

He stands up abruptly, the phone clattering against the partition as he drops it. He doesn't need to hear Ward any more. He turns his back on his father and walks out of the room, the door clanging shut behind him. As he walks back through the maze of corridors, his thoughts turn to you, knowing you’re outside overthinking and ready to hug the live out of him. 

He’s striding to you the moment he sees you. You're still on the bench, trying to distract yourself with your phone, but it’s no use. You jump up, rushing over to him. You’re always so endearing to him it pains him to know he hurt you so badly over the years.

“You okay?”

Rafe’s arms wrap around you, finally breathing normally. His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as if you can protect him from the Ward’s harshness. “I was going crazy waiting out here.”

“Sorry for making you wait,” Rafe murmurs, his voice muffled against your shoulder. 

“I don’t care,” You pull back slightly, your hands moving to cup his face. Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble beneath your touch, “You did what you needed to do. And I’m proud of you.”

He smiles a small, tired smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Needed to hear that. Thank you.”

You nod, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “For what?” you ask, leaning into him again. “You did great, baby. You stood up to him. That takes so much strength.”

You take his hand, your fingers intertwining with his as you lead him away from the prison. His grip is strong, his palm warm against yours. The two of you walk in silence for a moment, the only sound the gravel crunching beneath your feet. You glance at him, noting the way his shoulders have relaxed a litte.

“I felt it. Like a weight lifting off me. It’s not completely gone, but it’s lighter.”

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. Your free hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. It had grown so much over the past few weeks. “And it’ll keep getting lighter,” you assure him. 

“You think?”

“I know. You’ll keep needing to stand up to him,” you acknowledge, “But it will get easier each time.”

His hand brushes a stray hair from your face, copying your earlier movement. “And you’ll be here with me?”

“Always.”

Rafe’s expression softens, the hard edges smoothed away by the promise in your words. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

His lips linger there.

“You really are too good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, the sound blending with the hum of the car engines in the distance.

“I know.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. The intensity in his gaze takes your breath away, but it’s a different kind of intensity than you’re used to seeing in him. It’s softer, more open, and entirely focused on you.

“Let’s go home."

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

[metranart]

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 1)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

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𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, breeding, obsessive behavior, horny sorcerers, idiots in love, being the willing pet of your senseis, best friend! Megumi, Jealous! Megumi, anal plug, Secret Relationship, Domestic Fluff, falling in love, Pregnancy Kink, Hurt/Comfort, smut, rough sex, shameless smut, creampie, explicit sexual consent, sexual tension, shameless flirting, scratching.

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The yearning for him began the same day you were assigned under the tutelage of Satoru Gojo. You were just a teenager who innocently sat on her sensei’s lap when got the chance, you accepted the treats he shared with you, and you worshiped every word that came out of his mouth as if it were the pure gold.

You would never admit it out loud, but you had a huge, annoying crush on your sensei.

"-He's married you know?" Megumi said, his gaze lost at a point on the horizon, his tone hiding a feeling which you didn't recognize at the time.

"I do not know what you are talking about, Megumi-kun."

"Suguru-sensei is his husband, and he’s the jealous type." Megumi continued as if he hadn't heard you, still looking ahead. Your heavy sigh the only indicator that you acknowledged his words.

"I know they're both your parents-"

"No." This time his chaotic blue eyes did fall on you. "They're my guardians, that's all."

You nodded and let the topic go. Megumi always got uncomfortable when someone mentioned it, especially when you did. You didn't really understand, you would love to have Satoru and Suguru's attention all to yourself. Megumi was so lucky.

You still remember the exact day it happened, it was your last year at jujutsu high and you were about to become a first-grade sorcerer. Although you were already eighteen years old, you were still under Gojo's tutelage and care.

Guardianship which just at that moment you stepped on a whim. Maybe Satoru never expected you to dare, but you never expected him to encourage you to continue.

".... Ngh! Don’t stop, sweet girl." His purr almost got stuck in his dry throat, but you still heard him and obeyed him.

Riding that hard, erect cock still trapped behind the black fabric of his pants, while your warm asscheeks hugged it and pumped it in eager sways that started as an accident but were now deliberately obscene.

As was your custom, he allowed you to sit on his lap, as he had always done, but an accidental movement of your hips, a slippery moan from his tight lips, and the notorious wetness of your panties was the perfect combination to let himself go.

"You are treating sensei so good," he groaned, both big, strong hands guiding and smashing your hips harder against his bulge. "Sensei needs-" he choked, feeling the glorious shape of your pussy around him, "sensei needs to-"

"I know." You indeed knew, and even if this little slip on his part would become the only time you had him for your own, you’ll make it legendary. This magnificent man was going to come hard for you.

It didn't take you long to make his cock pulsate and spasm out those thick ropes of bittersweet cream inside his pants, the burst came with a euphoric scream, rich in curses and praises. You knew you had overstayed your welcome already, and being bold for a moment longer, you turned around, hunting for a just another souvenir to help you endure the cold nights on your own. Slowly leaning closer you placed a soft, warm kiss on his panting lips, just a taste for the rode. Your sensei's eyes lit up like a neon sign, full of surprise and shock.

"It's a shame that Suguru-san is so jealous." You complained goodheartedly, stealing another peck from those bright and delicious heaving lips, and got up with as much elegance as you could while having your panties glued to your wet cunt, fixed your skirt and left.

Months of silent familiarity and odd pretention passed before Gojo summoned you to his office after school. You expected a scolding, an expulsion, maybe that he was disappointed and alarmed by your slutty behavior, or at least embarrassed but what you didn’t expect what came out of his lips.

“Love is a curse,” he explained, a leg crossed in front of the other in the most carefree attitude, “…and I exorcise curses.” Those icy, blue eyes set firmly on yours. “Would you like sensei to exorcise your curse, (Y/N)?”

Your lower lip found its way to your teeth, being chewed while you nervously thought of an answer, you weren't sure what he meant and you were afraid to ask, you didn't want him to continue seeing you as a naive girl, as his student, his responsibility... so pretending you understood, you nodded.

"Are you sure?"

He asked, making sure you understood what he demanded. A white eyebrow rose on his forehead and when his lips were about to part to explain better as he usually did, you stopped him.

"I'm sure."

Gojo kept quiet for a moment, sighed a conspiratorial chuckle that almost seemed mischievous, and smiled up at you.

"If you are sure,” he stressed, “…. then come and kneel in front of your sensei, pet."

-

The first time Suguru Geto saw you, you were on your knees, your mouth full of his husband… actually, to the brim with his husband’s fat cock, taking it deep in your trained throat, hiding at plain sight behind a school desk while being nested between Satoru Gojo’s spread, thick thighs as he fed you heaps of his prodigy milk -as he liked to call it.

If you could barely breathe then now you are actually choking, the shock of being discovered was making your heart beat violently against your ribcage.

Satoru raised his eyes, meeting his husband’s gaze directly, watching him lean calmly against the frame and leave the door wide open, as if he wanted someone besides him to see you as well, even though it was almost six in the afternoon and the classes were over.

“-My love, I told you not to wait up for me, I was going to be late.” Satoru Gojo purred easily to his one and only, making him grin back at him.

“Oh, I see you're working after hours again," Suguru mocked from his spot on the door.

Satoru Gojo endearingly ran his hand over your flushed face, your embarrassed, confused and shocked expression extremely ridiculous compared to your stretched, swollen lips around his girthy cock, pushing your head against his pubic hair even harder, as if he were reluctant to let go even when you were caught, but Suguru shook his head, indicating that everything was fine.

Satoru closed peeked down at you, and a mischievous smirk graced his playful features.

“I don't know who told you that Suguru was jealous,” he wondered out loud holding your confused stare, “are you jealous, baby?”

Suguru Geto shrugged his broad shoulders equally playful. “Only if you don't share.”

You choked on the meat nested inside your throat and pulling you out for you to gulp some air, you coughed a little, droll and precum sliding down your chin when suddenly Gojo pushed you back to him, helping you suck him awkwardly. Using your mouth as his cocksleeve until he felt himself getting close to his price.

“Is my dutiful husband close to cream this lovely sorceress esophagus in thick milk?”

Satoru smirked, chucking lowly while still ramming your face to meet his pubic bone over and over again, and once felt he was close opened his eyes to watch as Suguru crossed his arms calmly, waiting for you to probe your worth.

“Don’t let it spill, (Y/N).” Suguru- sensei commanded, “In my family, wasting food is a sin.”

Suguru Geto teased with a wide grin but didn't move from his spot until after Satoru finished with a blast, until your face was covered in his husband’s musky cum since you couldn’t swallow such a massive load. The panting of your damaged voice was nothing more than clear evidence of a well-fucked throat. Satoru watched Suguru close the door behind him, latch it, step closer to the two of you and lean down to shamelessly, place a gentle kiss on your sweaty temple as you struggled to get your breathing even.

“You said her throat was like a fleshlight,” Suguru said to his panting husband, “and that she could swallow gallons without spill.”

“Having you here made my load heavier than usual,” Satoru defended, passing a hand through his disheveled mop of hair, “wasn’t my star student’s fault.”

Was your supposed secret affair with your sensei a regular topic for them? Isn't Suguru Geto angry with you? You couldn't look at his face, not even after he kissed your forehead so confusedly sweet, it was all too confusing... should you leave, apologize and leave? maybe it was the best...

“(Y/N),” Satoru said then, pulling out of your thoughts and lifting your chin up so he could get a good look at your pretty, flushed face, a wicked smirk spreading across his handsome face as his lips spelled. “Could you do sensei a favor?”

“A favor…?” you asked between ragged breaths, and he curled those shiny lips amused, Suguru Geto openly chuckled at your pathetic stamina. No doubt the metaphorical leash that Satoru was putting around your neck was still a work in progress, a good, faithful pet would have said yes immediately.

Your face was red, feverish, the blush extending to the edges of your eyes and also your ears. You were focused on the white-haired man you call sensei, desperate to know what he was going to ask of you, even when you wanted to, you couldn’t deny the exciting stirring inside your tummy that his mischievous requests always brought. He, being the only man in your eighteen-year-old existence to make your loins knot with something wild and feral.

You waited, cocking your head to the side, and Satoru grinned again, dragging his thumb over the bridge of your nose, collecting the white gobs of his own cum on the pads and putting it into his mouth, still warm and incredibly wet, eagerly closing around his thumb almost immediately, to then moan hoarsely.

“(Y/N),” he repeated after having tasted himself mix with your sweat. Satoru’s calm breathing against your sweaty forehead tickled you. He ran his thumb again but this time across your cheek, playing with his own mess, his intense blue eyes steady on your eyes, watching and recording inside his mind how you reacted to his perverted way of cleaning you, and the tremor that ran through your body looked almost like a convulsion, forcing you to fall over your calves tiredly. Satoru chuckled at the pleasant power play, proud of having so much effect over you, and without hesitation, ended up his request.

"I want you to sit on my husband’s cock and warm him up for a while, okay?"

You knacked and lay there over your calves, immobile.

"Do you need time to get hard again, Satoru?" Suguru scoffed, plainly ignoring your statue-like posture in order to kiss your sweaty face again, this time your cleaned cheek.

Satoru laughed, cocking his head in his direction, the blue of his eyes always more surprisingly bright and clear up close than it was from afar.

“I just thought you'd like to fuck her.”

“Am I so transparent?” that raven-haired hunk wondered with a thin brow raised.

“To me you are, baby.” His husband hurried to brag.

They both continued talking as if you weren't there or as if you were there, but it didn't matter that you heard them, given your lack of words. Suguru squatted next to you, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before asking.

“You don’t find me attractive, (Y/N)?”

Your cheeks burned like the sunset that filtered through the window, your mouth dry and lack of answers.

"As I said before, I don't mind if I'm also part of it..." he explained to you, "...I'm a special grade sorcerer after all, between the two of us we can destroy your curse better," he offered, his harsh and long fingers sliding sinfully across the soft skin of your neck.

"Suguru-san...." you mewled at his cynic touch. Being watched with morbid attention by the white-haired.

"How many times have I saved you on missions, how many times have I caught you watching me when you think I'm distracted..." your pupils dilated at the revelation, "how many times haven't I masturbated using your school photo?"

Your head whipped around to face him, astonished as he merely smirked.

"Oh, yes. I have, so many times," he admitted without shame, "...so, would you let me help you as well?"

Your breathing was a mess, when he had gotten so close? His face was centimeters away, you just needed to lean in, and his lips would be tattooed on yours.

"Don't think about it so much dearest, just do it." Your current sensei's breath caressed your ear out of the sudden and his hands on your shoulders gave you the last push you needed.

Your lips merged with Suguru Geto's in a heated kiss, his kisses were different, more patient, better thought out, his tongue licked your lips, and you opened your mouth to let him explore at his leisure, each moan torn from your tired throat sounded each time more needed.

"So that's a, yes?" Satoru asked and between kisses, you said as best you could. "Y-Yes, yes, yes, yes, yeees...."

Something inside you flared and tumbled while accepting their sinful proposition, of becoming Suguru Geto's cocksleeve as well. You nodded your head manically, embarrassingly eager, as if it were the only thing you could do, too stupid and desperate on your own excitement to think coherently.

“Our favorite student, ain’t that right, Sugu?”

The white-haired prodigy praised before standing up and abruptly breaking the kiss to take you with him, pulling you by the arm to get you up, your shaking legs almost letting you fall again when Satoru decided to eat your mouth instead.

You could easily hear Suguru Geto growl low as he huskily replied. “Damn right.”

This glorious man and his husband fucked you there, on the desk of the classroom, taking turns between your ass, your pussy, and your mouth until they were both sure their cocks would fall off. Until your holes weren't squeezing at all and none of the three were sure who the cum leaking out of you belonged to, your voice so worn out that anyone would realize how well your throat had been fucked.

By then it was so late that when you mumbled a weak. "I don't think I can walk," Satoru was quick to offer you a ride and Suguru eagerly agreed, saying things like: we need to take care of our girl, she’s so precious to us. Your beautiful eyes and reddened face littered with patches of cum, lighting up like an advertisement the moment both freely offered you their whole attention as you always dreamed for.

Satoru gently put you on his back, carrying you to the parking lot and then dumping you playfully unceremonious in the back seat, kissing you the entire time while Suguru drove to the address you told him, explaining it between gasps, moaning the words as if your ex-sensei were tearing them out of you one by one.

“Right-…no, I mean left-…” Your adorable, moaned babbling driving both males euphoric.

“Give her a sec, babe-… I need to know if turn right or left-”

“Right.” Satoru replied with such conviction both, you and Suguru’s eyebrows rose questioningly. “I know her address by heart-… after all, she still a pup under my watch.”

Satoru Gojo revealed to your utter annoyance and his husband’s amusement. A thin smirk gracing the raven-haired lip’s indicating he wasn’t even a little surprised.

“I’m not a pup anymore,” you complained between smooches, “I'm about to turn nineteen and become a first-grade sorceress…. I'm a full-fledged adult-”

“Na-ah!” your sensei chuckled, “you’re a brat, still my pup-”

“Our pup.” Suguru cut in from the driver’s seat, and Satoru agreed, “Right.”

"We'll come pick you up at 7 tomorrow," your sensei half ordered, half commented between heated kisses, his greedy lips devouring every patch of skin that his husband hadn't gifted with saliva and bites. "ya heard me, pup?" He stressed snickering, and you remained silent.

"-I'm no longer a little girl you can spoil without anyone suspecting, Gojo-san."

"Gojo-sensei," Satoru clarified, "you have to call me Gojo-sensei, pup."

You shook your head at his notorious control tricks, and slowly crept down from under him until you could open the car door.

"Thank you for the ride, Suguru-san."

Your body lurched to leave the safety of the car when three strong hands held you, two wrapping tightly around your waist and one around your forearm.

Satoru and Suguru teaming up to not let you go made you feel equally flattered as flustered.

"Tomorrow at seven, now we pick you up.” Gojo repeated more seriously and looking in the rearview mirror at Suguru's for some kind of support, his stern gaze forced you to nod.

"Right ...see you tomorrow-" you made a meaningful pause just to prolong their sole attention on you a little longer and aiming for one last playful punch under the belt, you dropped the bomb, "-Senseis."

Their blood boiled like water boils in a gazer before exploding.

"Don't let her go, Satoru." You heard Suguru say before his hand let go of your forearm and in one swift movement, he got out of the car to join you in the back seat.

Too late you realized your mistake.

Your pussy almost screamed when Suguru tried to slip inside. “Too sensitive, pup?”

You nodded weakly and he sighed, showing a little mercy.

“Good thing our girl is gifted with more than one tight hole.” Satoru reminded him, and his husband smirked, smugly.

“Good thing.” He replied before his thick cock stretched your asshole impossibly wide, your hands were held under his big paws against the back of the seat, Satoru slid to the side to have a better view. He loved when his husband got like this. You wanted to act and tease like an adult, they would fuck you like one.

Suguru's violent thrusts were taking the wind out of you with each meeting of flesh, your ass almost raw from so much pounding, your bundle of nerves being stalked with delicious and lazy circular movements by your actual sensei and this man’s husband.

"He’s gonna fill this disobedient student in cum, and this disobedient student is going to eagerly keep it inside, yes?" Satoru ordered and you could only meow inconsolably.

Each thrust of Suguru's hips was harder, more precise, deeper, more meat that you could take filling your pitiful quivering hole. You were close to fainting, your eyes half-closed and breathing labored, dehydrated from sweating so much, tired from squeezing yourself around such a large and long piece of raw cock.

"Su-Suguru-san..."

"Suguru sensei." Satoru corrected.

"Suguru-sensei,” you obeyed.

“Very good,” Gojo praised.

 “P-Please come-come… already, ple-please."

Suguru's dark laugh broke through the peaceful night, too amused in teaching you a lesson.

"I'll come only if you promise, you'll put on this lovely plug all night long." From thin air Suguru appeared a pink plug in his sweaty palm, a pretty, shiny thing with a pink diamond adorning the base.

"A plug-.... why?"

"So that, my one and only’s cum stays inside you till morning, of course." It was difficult to hear your sensei over the lewd sound of clapping flesh. “We will take it out tomorrow when we pick you up, pup.”

You couldn't take it anymore, you wanted Suguru sensei to come right away since you couldn’t do it anymore, you were drained, pleasantly exhausted and tired. You wanted to rest, sleep soundly…no! You wanted faint till the sun raised again.

"Y-Yes, I will, I promise!" you heard yourself yelp.

"Good pet." Suguru rasped. He almost sounded elated, but it didn't stop him from shoving himself completely inside of you, over and over and over again, slamming against your gummy walls in one last savage thrust. The breath was knocked out of you and there was when you felt him overflowing you in his warm, thick cum.

"That's it, baby, fill her tummy good, so much milk, so yummy." Satoru encouraged with perverted pride. "So full." The white-haired noted when his palm met the bump in your belly.

Suguru chuckled through his moans, massaging your hips with his thumbs while giving a couple of lazy thrusts before finally slip out. the spasming ring of your ass was a fucking mess, swollen and shiny and brimming in cum. Fuck! they loved the sight.

“Don’t let it slip out-” Suguru rushed to say.

“Go it.” Satoru hurried to plug in the device, your pretty asshole now prettier with a diamond adorning it.

"Just like I've dreamed you for more than three years, (Y/N)." Suddenly Satoru revealed, praising you like an excited child, and Suguru grinned approvingly, passing a thick thumb over the diamond making you jolt a little at how sensitive you were. “Three years is a lot to be blue balled, you really made us wait a lot, pretty girl.” He joined his husband, dreamily.

Maybe you weren’t hearing correctly. No, it couldn't be that they also wanted you as much as you wanted them. It was a mistake, you were really tired and exhausted, that's what.

Hand in hand, they peppered your face in sweet kisses teaming up against you again until there was a big smile on your sweaty face.

“Tomorrow at seven o clock, sharp, (Y/N). Don’t make us wait.”

They didn’t leave until you entered through the doorframe and the door close behind you. The inside of their car reek of spit and sex and cum, and Satoru buried his face in the backseat to breathe in the remaining of your essence and his husband.

“I’m so damn happy, Sugu.” He beamed hugging the backseat like an obsessed lovebird.

Suguru laughed at his antics. “Same.” He admitted more sobered, “I had already lost hope of having her, Toru-”

“I know,” he sniffed plenty, “they are months away from graduating and go to make their lives without our guidance... I was seriously considering kidnapping her-”

“Don’t joke with that, idiot.” Suguru scolded, pulling his husband off the backseat and closing the door, caging the whitehaired fool he loved under his thick, muscular frame and the car door.

"All of those plans will never be mentioned again," Suguru explained, "we must keep this as secret as possible; no one must know."

"Why?" Satoru asked bewildered, "If we had done it years ago while she was a minor, I would agree but she is already an adult-"

"Barely," Suguru interrupted and ran a heavy hand through his straight hair, "besides that's not what I mean." He stated more seriously.

"So?"

"Megumi." Was all he said, and Satoru understood.

"Megumi." the white-haired man repeated, burdensomely.

"Right, so not a word, no teasing or anything." Satoru's eyes betrayed how worried he was.

"Hey, Toru," he tipped his chin up gently, "...everything's gonna be fine, we'll figure it out, don't sweat it, babe." He pampered his man in sweet caresses, his lips pecking his lips with soft, reassuring kisses until his husband smiled again.

"There we go," Suguru praised, "Now on our way since tomorrow we have an early wake up."

They both left but neither of them could sleep, since were utterly excited about what this polyamorous relationship had in store for them.

COMING SOON PART 2....

⭕️ In my PATREON you will find NSFW art of this story and lots of content from JJK, exclusive smut fanfiction and animation like THIS ONE . Plus! voting poll privilege for the exclusive Patreon one-shot stories where you can choose the anime, couple pairing and kinky mood for the story, and of course, my eternal and immense gratitude for your support!!!

[n0tamused]

I don't k know if your busy or not but is it alright with you doing a Jiyan x injured reader? Like one day reader got hurt and decide to not tell Jiyan but he soon found out?

Thank you for your time and have a great day/noon/night

Contents: Jiyan x GN!Reader, angst, ends on a better note, hope you enjoy this anon :)

Thundering drums fill his ears with their haunting echoes as he raced through the sea of moving soldiers. 

Strands of his hair were loose from its ponytail with more strands sticking to his sweaty forehead, small parts matted with mud and dust. His clothes weren't shown any more mercy, with parts cut here and there with blood speckled throughout. Yet, it wasn't his clothes and hair that were haunting, but his face. Pale and eyes wide, devoid of any emotion in particular and looking like two deep voids that threatened anyone they looked at.

Jiyan’s heart was echoing, drumming and beating, but he couldn't feel any of it with how cold his very blood felt - he could swear he was dead and this was hell.

He rushed through into the open corner of the base dedicated for treating the injured, his eyes jumping from one face to the other, searching.

His feet had a mind of their own as they walked past the injured and the unconscious, sparing them some looks and bathed words of reassurance, his tone so soft that, were he in a better mindset, he would've asked whether the other even heard him properly.

There!

His mind yells, jumping at the first sign of the familiar head of hair. It's you! His heart leaps further up until he can taste the metal wash over his tongue. Days have passed since he has seen you vanish off the battlefield and he had grown restless by the day, wishing he could deny the possibility that you could be gone forever. So when word reached him you were found injured and brought back to the medics, he was racing at first chance.

He is quick as the wind, running up to where you were laying, arms and torso all up in bandages, the smell of medicine and herbs so heavy in the air it made even his nose scrunch. “Y/n!” he calls to you when he sees your lashes fluttering, one sign you were awake, and your movement the second sign. You are alive, despite a little voice in his head telling him this is just a cruel illusion. His hand finds yours, fingers curling around it and holding it, closer to him, feeling your warmth before two fingers slide to the inside of your wrist out of pure instinct to feel your life pulse for himself.

“Ji..Jiyan?” 

“It is me, (Y/n).. Are you in pain, are you alright?” His mind is reeling with questions and all the ways to scold you but he can’t bring himself to be angry, he lost the capacity to be angry at you ages ago - he just feels scared, the empty abyss within him yawning for reassurance of your state and yearning to swallow you into its void where you couldn’t come to harm.

“I..I’m alright” On cue, your cough interrupts your response, making your chest jump and your torso attempts to pull itself up. Jiyan is quick and cautious as he helps you sit upward, rubbing your back up and down as your coughing fit subsides. “Have you eaten anything?” He asks as his eyes drink in the details of your face - pale skin, half lidded eyes, cracked lips and few scrapes littered across your exposed skin. You shake your head, barely able to tell what he was doing as he moved about you like a bumblebee, hopping from here to there and bringing a flask of water up to your lips and helping you drink. The water feels heavenly as it slides down your throat, quenching the feeling of an upcoming fever.

“Tell me what happened..” His voice is softer now, quieter as he wishes to keep some sense of privacy even in this open space, but it is no less worried and pent up with tension that squeezes him. His eyes are quick to meet yours when they look up at long last, looking at him and taking in his own disheveled appearance. 

Your lips open and close as you search your brain for adequate words, but it takes a moment for you to gather your thoughts. “My memory is muddy from the actual battle, but I remember you being ahead of me.. and I was dealing with a couple of TDs behind you.. I.. I bit off more than I could chew, and I led them far away from you and the others but there were... just too many.. I was surrounded- I did my best, Jiyan.. But I slipped somewhere along the way.. I don’t know what happened afterwards. I only woke up two days ago..”

“Why didn’t you send word for me?” he bites the inside of his cheek, stopping himself from sounding frustrated or accusing. Images of your retelling paint themselves vividly in his mind, and his heart aches and bleeds for you.

“I wanted to heal first..” you mutter with a small shrug, not knowing the true answer yourself, even as guilt and regret seeps into your heart. “I’m sorry..”

“It’s.. It’s alright.. you are here now” He sighs as his eyes flicker down to your wounds, and he then takes a look around. Jiyan’s heart is too weary to simply leave it at this, too frightened to just let you be after days of believing you were dead. He looks back to you, a bold hand cupping the side of your face and helping you look up at him. 

“I’ll go see if there are any free rooms inside the base where I can help you change these bandages, they are in a dire need of redressing.. Then I’ll get you something to eat, alright?”

You could cry at his words, his kindness and desperation to help you not escape your fuzzy brain, so you only nod, lips pressed into a firm line. He notices your eyes become watery and shock flickers over his visage, and faster than he could know he is already cupping your face with both hands. “Hey…” he whispers, worrying, filling his golden eyes that only sought to comfort you, not sadden you. Or were you in even more pain now? He feels a rush go through him, needing to get you somewhere where he can hold you.  “It’s alright.. I’m not mad at you, alright? Breathe..” he soothes your eyes that flutter shut when the pads of his thumb brushes over it. You nod again, swallowing your tears. 

“I’m okay..”

“You’ll be okay, my love.. just leave it all to me..”

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[callsigns-haze]

You knew? Part 1 of 3

Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader! Callsign Ace

Chapter Summary: In a clever setup orchestrated by Hangman and Phoenix, Rooster and Ace, two colleagues with a tense relationship, unknowingly begin exchanging flirtatious emails under anonymous identities. As they bond over shared work frustrations, they eventually realize they’ve been emailing each other all along. The discovery leads to frustration and anger, particularly from Ace, who feels betrayed by Hangman’s manipulation. The revelation complicates their already strained relationship.

Warning: This story includes themes of manipulation and workplace tension, leading to conflicts and personal revelations.

The sun beat down on NAS North Island as jets roared across the sky, the rhythmic hum of engines echoing throughout the base. Inside the hangar, pilots and crew members moved with practiced ease, their chatter blending with the distant sound of drills.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw sat on a bench in the locker room, his flight suit unzipped to his waist. He absentmindedly ran a hand through his tousled hair, his thoughts far from the noise around him. Lately, a gnawing sense of loneliness had settled in, one he couldn't quite shake.

Just as he was lost in thought, the door swung open with a bang. Natasha "Phoenix" Trace rushed in, her boots skidding slightly on the polished floor. There was a determined look in her eyes, one Rooster knew all too well—she was on a mission.

"Rooster, got a minute?" she asked, barely giving him time to respond before thrusting a crumpled piece of paper into his hand.

He frowned, unfolding the note to reveal an email address scrawled in neat handwriting. Confusion crossed his face as he looked up at Phoenix. "What's this?"

"An email address," Phoenix replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I know you can be slow sometimes, but I didn’t think I’d have to explain that part."

Rooster rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. "I can see that. But whose?"

Phoenix crossed her arms, her expression turning serious. "Listen, I’ve seen you moping around here, and frankly, it’s pathetic. You're my best friend, and I hate seeing you like this. So, I talked to a friend of mine—a good one—and got her email for you. The only rule is, you can’t ask her name. And she won’t ask for yours either."

Rooster blinked, taken aback. "You’re setting me up? Since when did you become a matchmaker?"

"Since you started acting like a lovesick puppy," Phoenix shot back, her tone teasing but her eyes sincere. "Look, just email her. No expectations, no pressure. Just talk. See where it goes."

Rooster glanced down at the email again, something about the mystery of it intriguing him. He’d never done anything like this before, and maybe that was exactly why he should give it a try.

"Alright," he finally said, tucking the paper into his pocket. "I’ll do it. But if this turns out to be some weird prank, I’m coming after you."

Phoenix laughed, the tension easing between them. "Trust me, Rooster. You might actually thank me for this one. Just don’t try to figure out who she is. Let it happen."

As Rooster watched her leave, he felt a strange mix of anticipation and curiosity. Maybe this was what he needed after all—a chance to connect with someone new, without the weight of the past hanging over him.

Across the base, in another part of the hangar, Y/N Y/L/N, known by her call sign "Ace," was finishing up a maintenance check on her jet. She wiped the sweat from her brow, satisfied with the day's work, when Jake "Hangman" Seresin approached her, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"Hey, Ace," he called out, waving a folded piece of paper in the air as he jogged over.

She raised an eyebrow, instantly suspicious. "What’s with the look, Seresin?"

He handed her the paper with a flourish, like he was presenting her with a winning lottery ticket. "Just a little something I thought you might appreciate. It’s an email address."

Ace unfolded the paper, eyeing the email address written there. "Whose is it?"

"That’s the fun part," Hangman replied, leaning against the jet with a smirk. "I know you’ve been keeping to yourself lately, and I figured you could use a distraction. So, I talked to a buddy of mine and got you this. The only rule is, you can’t ask him who he is, and he can’t ask about you. Just email him. See what happens."

Ace looked at the email address again, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "You’re serious?"

"Dead serious," Hangman said, his voice uncharacteristically sincere. "No games, no strings. Just an honest chance to connect with someone. What do you say?"

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, folding the paper and slipping it into her pocket. "Alright, I’ll give it a shot. But if this is your idea of a joke, Seresin, I’m not going to be happy."

Hangman laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Scout’s honour, Ace. I think you’ll like this one."

As he walked away, Ace couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement. The anonymity of it, the chance to talk to someone without the usual baggage—it was intriguing. Maybe, just maybe, this was the kind of surprise she needed.

---

The day was winding down as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the base. The roar of jet engines had softened, leaving a quieter hum in the air.

Ace, tired but satisfied with the day’s work, was making her way out of the hangar. She was eager to get home, her mind already turning over what she might say in that first email to the mysterious address Hangman had given her.

As she rounded a corner, focused more on her thoughts than on where she was going, she collided hard with someone coming the other way. The impact jolted her back to reality, and she instinctively gripped her helmet tighter to avoid dropping it.

"Watch where you’re going!" she snapped, the words flying out before she even registered who she’d bumped into.

Rooster, equally caught off guard, scowled as he steadied himself. "Maybe you should try not walking around with your head in the clouds," he shot back, his tone sharp.

Ace narrowed her eyes at him, irritation bubbling up immediately. Rooster was the last person she wanted to deal with right now. Their relationship had always been rocky—too much ego and too many unresolved tensions.

"You’re one to talk," she muttered, brushing past him. "I’m surprised you didn’t trip over your own ego on the way here."

Rooster rolled his eyes, not willing to let it slide. "Yeah, well, at least I don’t need to be constantly reminded which way is up."

They glared at each other for a moment longer before Ace turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving Rooster behind with a bitter taste in his mouth. As she walked away, she could feel the tension still crackling in the air, but she refused to let it ruin her evening.

From across the hangar, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Jake "Hangman" Seresin watched the interaction unfold, exchanging worried glances. They had been casually chatting when they noticed their two targets—Ace and Rooster—heading straight for each other. Now, as they observed the icy exchange, Phoenix let out a sigh.

"Well, that went about as well as a mid-air collision," she murmured, shaking her head.

Hangman chuckled nervously, though his usual confidence was tinged with doubt. "Yeah, I’m starting to think this might have been a bad idea. They can barely be in the same room without biting each other’s heads off."

Phoenix crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Maybe… or maybe this is exactly what they need. You know how it is—sometimes the people who push each other’s buttons the most are the ones who end up surprising you."

Hangman shrugged, though he still looked uncertain. "I hope you’re right, because if this backfires, we’re both going to hear about it for the rest of our lives."

Phoenix smirked, her confidence returning. "Trust me, Hangman. We’ve seen stranger things happen around here."

-

Ace slid into the driver’s seat of her car, tossing her helmet onto the passenger seat with a frustrated huff. The encounter with Rooster still lingered in her mind, but she wasn’t going to let it bother her. Not tonight.

She pulled out the crumpled piece of paper with the email address, staring at it for a moment before finally unlocking her phone. With a deep breath, she opened a new message and began typing, her fingers moving more quickly as she decided what to say.

Hey there, she started, keeping it simple. I’m not sure how this whole thing is supposed to work, but I guess we’re both in the same boat. So, here’s to whatever comes next.

She hesitated for a moment, then hit send before she could second-guess herself. Leaning back in her seat, she let out a slow breath, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nerves.

-

Back at his apartment, Rooster had just kicked off his boots and was settling in when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his eyebrows lifting in surprise when he saw a new email notification.

Curious, he opened it and read the message, a grin slowly spreading across his face. The casual tone, the uncertainty—it was refreshing. Whoever this person was, they weren’t overthinking it, and he liked that.

Hey yourself, he typed back, his mood lightening as he responded. I’m not sure how this is supposed to go either, but I’m game to find out. Let’s see where this takes us.

He hit send, feeling a flicker of excitement. There was something fun about the anonymity of it all—no names, no faces, just two people connecting through words.

As he leaned back, waiting to see if they’d reply, he had no idea that the person on the other end was the very same pilot he’d just butted heads with. And for now, maybe that was for the best.

-

ACE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Ace sat on her couch, feet tucked underneath her as she scrolled through her emails. The mystery contact had quickly become the highlight of her evening, a welcome distraction from the routine of her day. She opened his latest email with a sense of anticipation.

Hey yourself, it began. I’m not sure how this is supposed to go either, but I’m game to find out. Let’s see where this takes us.

She couldn’t help but smile. There was something refreshing about this—no expectations, no judgments, just a conversation. She quickly typed a response.

Well, I guess we’re both in uncharted territory here. So, let’s start simple—how was your day?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Rooster kicked back on his couch, his phone in hand. The quiet of his apartment felt more bearable with the company of his mystery emailer. When her reply came through, he read it with a growing interest.

Pretty standard—flew a few maneuvers, avoided crashing into anyone, and had a less-than-pleasant encounter with someone who seems to think they own the sky. You?

He chuckled to himself before typing back.

Sounds like a typical day in our line of work. As for me, I spent most of my day fixing things up and trying not to lose my patience with a certain someone who seems to thrive on pushing my buttons.

ACE’S APARTMENT - SAME NIGHT

Ace read his email and felt a spark of curiosity. The way he talked about his day sounded oddly familiar, like they might have more in common than she’d initially thought. She responded with a hint of playfulness.

Fixing things up? Sounds like we might work in the same field. My day involved some pretty similar frustrations—mostly with equipment, though a few people came close. What’s the most interesting part of your job?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - SAME NIGHT

Rooster raised an eyebrow as he read her reply. Was it possible they worked in the same industry? The thought intrigued him, but he decided to keep it vague.

The most interesting part? Probably the high-stakes situations. There’s nothing quite like the rush you get when everything’s on the line. What about you?

ACE’S APARTMENT - LATER THAT NIGHT

Ace’s curiosity deepened. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they might be closer in their professional lives than either of them realized. She replied with a smile.

I’d have to agree with that. There’s something addictive about the adrenaline, the way you have to think on your feet. It’s not for everyone, but it definitely keeps things interesting. Ever have a moment where you thought, ‘This is it, this is why I do this’?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - LATER THAT NIGHT

Rooster felt a connection growing with this mystery person. The way she described the job, the adrenaline—it all resonated with him.

Definitely. There’ve been a few moments where it all comes together, and you remember why you signed up in the first place. It’s those moments that make the tough days worth it. Sounds like you know exactly what I mean.

ACE’S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

Ace smiled at the screen. There was an undeniable connection between them, something that went beyond the surface.

I do. It’s the reason we keep coming back, isn’t it? The rush, the challenge. So, what’s your favorite part of the day—when you’re up there, or when you’re down here figuring it all out?

She hit send, the thrill of the conversation growing with each exchange.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

Rooster read her email, feeling that same thrill. It was like they were dancing around the details, both aware they were probably in the same line of work, but neither willing to say too much.

Honestly? It’s a bit of both. I love the freedom and the rush of being up there, but there’s something satisfying about the process of figuring things out down here too. You?

ACE’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Ace’s heart raced as she typed her response, the anonymity of their conversation adding to the excitement.

Same here. There’s a balance to it that I love. The thrill of being in the thick of it, and the quiet satisfaction of making sure everything runs smoothly when it’s all over. I guess you could say it’s a perfect mix of chaos and control.

She sent the message, feeling more connected to this stranger than she had to anyone in a long time.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Rooster read her reply, a grin spreading across his face. There was no denying it now—they were definitely in the same field. He wondered if they’d ever crossed paths without even knowing it.

Couldn’t have said it better myself. There’s something about that mix that’s just right. Maybe one day we’ll get the chance to compare notes in person—who knows?

He sent the email, his curiosity about her growing with every word.

ACE’S APARTMENT - EARLY MORNING

Ace’s pulse quickened as she read his last message. The thought of meeting him, of finding out who he was, sent a thrill through her.

Maybe we will. It’s a small world, after all. In the meantime, I’m enjoying getting to know you through these little windows into each other’s lives. Who knew this would turn out to be so fun?

She sent the message, already eager to see what he’d say next.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EARLY MORNING

Rooster leaned back, thinking about how surreal this all was. There was something almost magical about connecting with someone this way, without even knowing their name.

I have to admit, I’m enjoying it too. There’s something about the mystery that makes it all the more interesting. Who knows where this might lead?

He sent the message, his mind racing with possibilities. The night had turned out far better than he could have imagined.

---

The sun had barely risen over the base, casting a soft, golden light across the tarmac. Jets stood in neat rows, their sleek forms gleaming under the morning sun. The day was just beginning, but already there was a sense of energy in the air—a mix of anticipation and routine that every pilot knew well.

Ace arrived at the hangar, her steps quick and determined. She wasn’t in the mood for small talk, especially not after the strange, unexpected thrill of the email exchange last night. She had stayed up far too late, caught up in the banter with her mystery contact, and now she was paying for it. Her mind was still partially back in that conversation, trying to piece together who the person on the other end might be.

But her focus snapped back to the present the moment she saw him.

Bradshaw was already there, leaning casually against one of the jets with that familiar, infuriating smirk on his face. He was chatting with a couple of other pilots, his easy laughter carrying across the hangar. As soon as he noticed her, the smirk widened.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up," Rooster called out, his voice dripping with mock surprise.

Ace rolled her eyes, her irritation flaring instantly. "Some of us don’t need to parade around like peacocks just to get attention, Rooster."

He pushed off from the jet and strolled toward her, his hands in his pockets. "Oh, I don’t know, Ace. A little flair never hurt anyone. But I guess subtlety isn’t really your style, is it?"

She glared at him, crossing her arms. "You wouldn’t know subtlety if it flew up and hit you in the face."

Rooster chuckled, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Maybe not, but at least I don’t go around with a permanent chip on my shoulder. Lighten up, Ace. Not everything has to be a competition."

She stepped closer, refusing to back down. "When you’re around, everything is a competition. Or maybe you just don’t like losing."

Rooster’s eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and challenge. "You think I’m losing? That’s cute. Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night."

Ace’s jaw clenched, her irritation now fully transformed into a burning anger. "You know what, Rooster? One of these days, that ego of yours is going to get you in trouble."

He shrugged, unbothered by her words. "Maybe. But at least I won’t be the one who’s bitter and alone because I’m too stubborn to let anything slide."

Before Ace could fire back, the sound of a nearby jet engine roared to life, signalling that it was time to get to work. She shot him one last glare before turning on her heel and heading toward her plane. Rooster watched her go, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

The pilots gathered in the briefing room, a large, sterile space lined with chairs facing a wall of screens. The air was thick with the usual blend of tension and focus that accompanied every pre-flight briefing. Ace took a seat near the front, determined to focus on the mission and ignore Rooster, who had taken a seat a few rows behind her.

Phoenix stood at the front, leading the briefing with her usual no-nonsense attitude. She outlined the day’s manoeuvres and objectives, her voice calm and authoritative. But even as she spoke, she couldn’t help but notice the occasional, heated glances exchanged between Ace and Rooster.

It didn’t take long for the tension to bubble over.

Phoenix was in the middle of explaining a particularly complex manoeuverer when Rooster leaned back in his chair and spoke up, his tone casual but clearly intended to provoke.

"Some of us might need a refresher on this one. Don’t want anyone getting lost up there."

Ace stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she turned to look at him. "If you’re worried about keeping up, Rooster, maybe you should take notes."

A few of the other pilots exchanged glances, sensing the tension and doing their best to stay out of it. Phoenix sighed internally, knowing that once Ace and Rooster started, it was almost impossible to get them to stop.

"Alright, knock it off, you two," Phoenix said, her tone firm. "We’re here to work as a team, not to see who can throw the best insults. Save it for after the mission."

Ace bit back a retort, forcing herself to focus on the briefing instead of the urge to wipe that smug look off Rooster’s face. Rooster, for his part, simply leaned back and smirked, satisfied that he had gotten under her skin once again.

The day’s exercises were intense, a series of high-speed manoeuvres designed to push the pilots to their limits. Ace was in her element, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she focused on every turn, every dive. But no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t completely block out the presence of Rooster’s jet nearby.

Every time she checked her radar or adjusted her position, there he was—always close, always just a little too close. It felt like he was deliberately shadowing her, testing her, trying to outmanoeuvre her at every opportunity.

"Stay in your lane, Rooster," Ace muttered under her breath, though she knew he couldn’t hear her.

But it was clear from his manoeuvres that he was trying to show her up. Every roll, every dive was executed with precision, as if he was daring her to do better.

Ace grit her teeth and pushed her jet harder, determined not to let him get the upper hand. She mirrored his moves, staying right on his tail as they looped and rolled through the sky. The rivalry between them burned hotter with each passing moment, the tension building until it was almost unbearable.

But no matter how hard she pushed, Rooster was right there, matching her move for move. The frustration built up inside her until she could hardly see straight, her focus narrowing to just one thing: beating him.

When the exercises finally ended and the jets returned to base, Ace felt a wave of both relief and exhaustion. She landed her jet with a bit more force than necessary, her frustration still simmering just beneath the surface.

Back on the ground, the pilots gathered in the hangar to debrief and cool down. Ace was in the middle of checking her jet when Rooster walked by, a smug grin on his face.

"Looks like you were struggling a bit up there," he said, his tone infuriatingly casual.

Ace straightened up, fixing him with a cold stare. "I wasn’t struggling. But it’s cute that you think so."

Rooster shrugged, clearly unfazed. "If you say so. Maybe next time you’ll actually keep up."

Ace stepped closer, her frustration boiling over. "I don’t need to keep up with you, Rooster. If anything, you’re the one who’s slowing me down."

His grin widened, as if her anger was just what he’d been hoping for. "Slowing you down? Maybe you’re just not as fast as you think."

The two stood toe to toe, the tension between them crackling in the air. It was always like this—one little comment, one tiny spark, and they were at each other’s throats. Neither was willing to back down, and it was only a matter of time before one of them said something they couldn’t take back.

But before it could escalate any further, Phoenix walked over, her expression exasperated.

"Will you two knock it off already?" she said, stepping between them. "We’ve got enough to deal with today without you two bickering like school kids."

Ace took a deep breath, forcing herself to step back. Rooster, too, backed off, though the smug look never left his face.

"Fine," Ace muttered, turning her attention back to her jet. "Just stay out of my way."

Rooster gave a mock salute, his smirk still in place. "Whatever you say, Ace."

As he walked away, Ace’s frustration simmered, but she forced herself to focus on her work. She didn’t have time to let Rooster get under her skin—not when there was so much at stake.

But no matter how hard she tried to ignore him, the tension between them was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to flare up at a moment’s notice.

The day had been long, and by the time Ace returned to her quarters, she was exhausted. Her body was sore, her mind was racing, and all she wanted to do was collapse into bed. But as she sat on the edge of her bed, her phone buzzed with a new email notification.

She picked it up, her mood lightening slightly as she saw it was from her mystery contact. The memory of their flirtatious exchange the night before brought a small smile to her lips, a welcome distraction from the frustrations of the day.

Hey there, the email read. How was your day?

She sighed, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she considered how to respond. Part of her wanted to vent about Rooster, about how infuriating he was, but she held back. She didn’t want to taint this connection with the negativity that seemed to follow her

---

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster was sprawled out on his couch, his guitar resting on his lap as he strummed absentmindedly. The buzz of his phone drew him out of his musings. He saw the email from his mystery contact and smiled, eager for a distraction from his day.

Hey there! My day was pretty intense. Spent most of it dealing with some annoying issues at work and got into a few heated exchanges. How about you?

ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace read his response and couldn’t help but chuckle. It seemed like they were both having a tough day. She typed back, her fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard.

Intense is definitely the word for it. I had a rough day with some tricky equipment and a certain pilot who seems to think he’s invincible. But enough about me—what’s your idea of a perfect way to unwind after a day like that?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster’s smile widened as he read her email. Her mention of a troublesome pilot made him wonder if they might be talking about the same person, but he decided not to press the issue. Instead, he focused on her question.

Ah, a perfect way to unwind? I’d say a good jam session or maybe just kicking back with a favourite movie. Something that takes my mind off the chaos of the day. What about you? Any special routines to shake off the stress?

ACE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Ace considered his response while taking a sip from her cup of tea. His laid-back approach to winding down was something she could relate to. She quickly typed her reply.

Sounds pretty good. For me, it’s usually a mix of hitting the gym or getting lost in a good book. Sometimes, a good meal with friends can do wonders too. It’s nice to have a little routine to fall back on after a hectic day.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Rooster liked the idea of winding down with friends—it was a nice contrast to the solitary nature of his typical evenings. He began typing his response with a relaxed grin.

Sounds like you’ve got a pretty solid routine. I’ve got to say, a good meal with friends sounds like something I could use more of. Maybe I should work on that. Anyway, what kind of books are you into? I’m always looking for recommendations.

ACE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Ace’s interest was piqued by his question. She enjoyed talking about books and was happy to share her favorites.

I’m a bit of a mix—I love thrillers and mysteries, but I also have a soft spot for classic literature. Recently, I’ve been diving into some historical fiction. How about you? What’s your go-to genre?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Rooster read her email with interest. Her love for thrillers and classic literature was something he could relate to, though his tastes leaned a little differently.

I’m a fan of thrillers myself, though I’ve been known to get into sci-fi and fantasy from time to time. It’s always nice to escape into a different world for a while. Historical fiction sounds intriguing, though. I might need to check that out.

ACE’S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

Ace felt a genuine connection through their exchange. She was enjoying this conversation more than she’d expected. She responded with a hint of her playful side.

Sci-fi and fantasy, huh? That’s a pretty interesting mix. You might have to convince me that they’re worth diving into. And if you ever need a book recommendation, just let me know. I might have a few hidden gems up my sleeve.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

Rooster’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as he read her playful offer. He liked the idea of her recommending books—it felt like a little inside joke between them.

I’ll definitely take you up on that. And I’m always up for a good book challenge. Just don’t be too surprised if I end up recommending a few sci-fi classics in return. It’s all part of the fun, right?

ACE’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Ace’s smile grew as she read his response. The playful banter was exactly what she needed after a long day. She decided to keep the momentum going.

Challenge accepted. I’m ready for your recommendations anytime. And who knows, maybe we’ll end up with a shared list of must-reads by the end of this.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Rooster’s grin widened. He liked the idea of a book exchange and was intrigued by the way their conversation was flowing. He typed his last message of the night.

Looking forward to it. It’s nice to have something to look forward to, especially after a day like today. Here’s to new books and unexpected connections. Talk soon?

ACE’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Ace finished her tea and read his message with satisfaction. She felt a genuine connection growing and was looking forward to continuing the conversation.

Definitely. Here’s to more chats and less stress. I’ll be here.

She sent the email and closed her laptop, feeling a sense of calm settle over her. The mystery contact was turning out to be a much-needed bright spot in her hectic life.

---

The hangar was alive with the usual pre-flight activity. Rooster was inspecting his jet, but his attention kept drifting towards Ace, who was absorbed in her tablet. Her brows were furrowed, and she seemed completely engrossed in whatever was on the screen.

Rooster, never one to miss an opportunity, strolled over with a casual swagger, a mischievous grin on his face. “Hey, Ace,” he called out, his tone light but laced with teasing. “Looks like you’re pretty absorbed over there. Texting someone special, are we?”

Ace glanced up, her expression a mix of irritation and surprise. “What’s it to you, Rooster?”

Rooster leaned in a little closer, clearly enjoying the moment. “Just curious. I saw you typing away like your life depends on it. You’ve got to be talking to someone pretty important, right? A special someone, maybe?”

Ace’s eyes narrowed as she tried to hide the screen of her tablet. “It’s none of your business. Can’t you just focus on your own stuff?”

Rooster’s grin widened. “Oh, come on. Don’t be so secretive. I’m just wondering if you’re setting up a hot date or maybe just chatting with a certain someone who’s been on your mind.”

Ace’s face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger. “Seriously, Rooster? Not everything’s a joke. I’m just dealing with some work stuff.”

Rooster raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying riling her up. “Work stuff, huh? If it’s work, why’re you so secretive? You can tell me. I promise I won’t judge. Or is it that you’re afraid I might find out it’s someone...well, let’s say, more interesting?”

Ace’s frustration peaked. She shoved her tablet into her bag and took a step toward Rooster, her voice low but fierce. “You’ve been on my case all morning. If you don’t back off, I swear—”

Rooster chuckled, stepping back slightly. “Whoa, calm down there. I’m just making conversation. Didn’t realize you’d be so touchy about it. Guess it’s a sensitive topic.”

Before Ace could respond, Phoenix and the other squad members noticed the growing tension. Phoenix stepped in, her expression serious. “Alright, enough. If you two can’t handle a little teasing without it escalating, I’m going to have to step in.”

Hangman and Coyote, catching the edge in Phoenix’s tone, moved closer. Coyote placed a hand on Ace’s shoulder, gently pulling her back. “Hey, Ace, take a breath. It’s not worth getting worked up over.”

Hangman approached Rooster, his expression one of mixed amusement and exasperation. “Rooster, you’re really pushing it today. Maybe give it a rest, huh?”

Ace, still seething, shook her head. “I’m done with this. I just want to get through the day without dealing with his nonsense.”

Rooster, now more subdued but still smirking, raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Fanboy and Bob, who had been watching from a distance, approached to help defuse the situation. Fanboy clapped Rooster on the shoulder. “Come on, man. Let’s focus on the mission.”

Bob nodded in agreement, glancing at Ace with concern. “Everyone needs to stay cool. We’ve got enough on our plates without adding personal drama to the mix.”

As the squad began to gather for the briefing, the tension between Ace and Rooster lingered, but they both knew they had to refocus. Phoenix took a deep breath, addressing the group. “Let’s all get it together. We’ve got a briefing coming up, and we need to be professional.”

Ace and Rooster, now separated by the intervention of their teammates, walked toward the briefing room, the earlier animosity still simmering but temporarily set aside. The squad’s intervention had helped to de-escalate the situation, but the morning’s drama left a mark on everyone’s mood as they prepared for the day’s mission.

---

ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace slumped onto her couch, exhausted from the day’s events. Her laptop was open, and she continued her email conversation with her anonymous contact, hoping to unwind a bit. She began typing with a mix of curiosity and irritation about the ongoing mystery.

Hey,

Today was a disaster. Had a big argument with a colleague who really knows how to get under my skin. Not the best day for me. But this email exchange has been a good distraction, I guess.

How about you? How’s your day going? Anything to share?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster read her email with a smirk. He was enjoying the light-hearted banter but was curious to see if he could draw out more information. He typed back, subtly hinting at the similarities in their work environments.

Hey,

Sounds like we’ve both had our share of drama. My day wasn’t any better—had some heated exchanges with colleagues. It’s like we’re living in the same soap opera.

I’m starting to think our work situations might be more similar than we realized. Anyway, got any funny or surprising stories from your day?

ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace read his email with increasing suspicion. His description of his day seemed all too familiar. Deciding to push further, she typed her response, trying to get more clues about who he might be.

Hey,

It’s funny—your day sounds almost too familiar. I’m starting to wonder if we might be talking about the same environment. If you’re in a high-pressure job with lots of drama, I might have a pretty good guess about who you are.

Any hints?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster saw her email and felt a spark of recognition. He decided to give a direct clue to see if it would lead to an answer.

Hey,

Alright, here’s a hint: I work in a place where tensions are high and everyone’s on edge. Sounds like you might be in a similar boat. Does that help?

I’m curious—any idea who I might be?

INT. ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace read his clue and felt a sharp pang of realization. Her frustration from the day mixed with the sudden clarity about her correspondent’s identity. She quickly typed her response, her irritation clear in her words.

You’ve got to be kidding me. With your “high-pressure” job description, it’s pretty obvious that you’re Rooster. I should have known, I can’t believe I’ve been having these conversations with you, of all people.

This is ridiculous. And to think I was actually enjoying this exchange. I’m so done with this.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster’s eyes widened in shock as he read Ace’s email. The realization hit him hard, and his amusement turned into frustration. He quickly typed a reply, his tone reflecting his annoyance.

Seriously? I had a feeling, but this is just perfect. So it turns out I’ve been emailing with Ace. I should have known you’d be the one on the other end. What a surprise.

I can’t believe you were getting so worked up over these emails. Great, just great. I guess we’ve got a lot to talk about now. Or maybe not.

ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace’s frustration flared as she read Rooster’s reply. She cursed under her breath, the realization that Rooster was behind the emails making her even more upset. She slammed her laptop shut, her annoyance with both Rooster and Hangman boiling over.

“Damn it, Rooster. And damn Hangman for setting this up!” she fumed. “This whole thing was a setup from the start.”

She paced the room, trying to calm herself. The surprise and anger of discovering her mystery contact was Rooster left her seething. The day had been a mess, and the email revelation only added fuel to the fire.

Please comment, like and reblog!

[nhlclover]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 | 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

summary: after radio silence from you, will worries that you've forgotten your pregame tradition before his nhl debut.

warnings: little tiny bit of angst in the beginning, kissing, gross fluff

word count: 1.04k

notes: this almost went a totally different (and heartwrenching) way. also i know this is unrealistic but i don’t care!

The air crackled with anticipation as the Sharks’ first game of the season loomed closer, the arena filling with a sea of excited fans eager to witness the dawn of a new era in Bay Area hockey. The buzzing energy seeped through the concrete walls, even reaching the locker room where Will sat, shoulders hunched, elbows resting on his knees. His gaze stayed glued to the scuffed floor beneath him, though his mind was somewhere else entirely. He was thirty minutes away from making his NHL debut, the dream he’d worked toward his whole life. But instead of feeling exhilarated, his stomach was twisted into a million knots, and it was all because of you.

He ran a shaky hand through his unruly hair before picking up his phone for what felt like the hundredth time, staring at the screen with an expression that bordered on desperation. Still no messages. His thumb hovered over your contact, but he stopped himself from calling. You’d always been the first to text him before every game, sending a sweet “good luck” that never failed to make him smile, no matter how many times he read it. It was your thing, something he’d come to rely on, especially on game days. Today, of all days, you hadn’t said a word.

Will swallowed hard, trying to drown out the unsettling thud of disappointment. He clenched his jaw, tossing his phone into the compartment above his head with a bit more force than necessary.

“Yo, Will, what’s with the long face?” Macklin asked, dropping into the spot beside him, his voice cutting through the low hum of pregame chatter. “You’re about to live the dream, man. Smile a little.”

Will exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. “It’s nothing. Just… personal stuff.”

Macklin leaned in, his expression both amused and concerned. “Personal stuff? Come on, dude, you’re acting like you lost your puppy or something. Spill.”

“It’s just…” Will hesitated, debating whether he should even say it out loud. Finally, he gave in. “My girlfriend, she’s always texted me before every game. It’s kind of our thing. But today—nothing. And it’s driving me insane, man.”

“Dude, you’re trippin’ over a text?” Macklin shook his head with a grin. “She’s probably just busy or caught up with something. Doesn’t mean she forgot about you.”

Will nodded, though Macklin’s words did little to ease the uneasy feeling lodged in his chest. He wanted to believe that was all it was, but the silence from you felt heavier today, almost like a warning sign he couldn’t ignore.

The minutes ticked by, each one dragging slower than the last, and soon enough, Coach Warsofsky’s booming voice echoed through the room, calling everyone to attention. “Alright, listen up! First game of the season, boys. This is where we show everyone what Sharks hockey is all about. But before we hit the ice, we’ve got a special guest who is going to announce our starting lineup for tonight.”

Will barely registered the words, his mind still tangled up in thoughts of you, until he heard a voice that made him freeze.

“Hey, everyone. I’m super excited to be here tonight.”

His head snapped up so fast it was a miracle he didn’t get whiplash. There you were, standing just inside the doorway, looking slightly nervous but glowing under the fluorescent lights. It took him a second to realize he wasn’t dreaming, and when your eyes met his, all the tension drained out of his body. For the first time all day, he felt like he could finally breathe.

You cleared your throat, glancing down at the paper in your hands as you began to read out the names of Will’s teammates. With each name, the excitement in your voice grew, until you reached the last one. “And finally, starting at center, number 2…Will Smith!”

The room erupted into cheers, but Will didn’t hear any of it. He was already halfway across the room, ignoring the playful jeers from his teammates. He reached you in three long strides, scooping you up in his arms and lifting you off the ground. “You’re here,” he breathed, burying his face in your neck as if he needed to make sure you were real. “You actually came.”

You laughed, the sound like music to his ears. “Of course, I did. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Before he could think twice, he kissed you, right there in front of his entire team, not caring one bit about the whistles and hoots echoing around the room. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You had me worried, you know that?” he murmured. Will took your hand in his, leading you out into the hall where you could talk in private, away from his teasing teammates.

“Had to keep you on your toes,” you teased, giving him a playful nudge. “Besides, I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” he chuckled, taking you back in his arms, keeping them wrapped around you as if afraid you might disappear. “I thought you forgot about me.”

“Never,” you said softly, fingers threading through his curls. “Good luck, Will. You’re going to be amazing.”

His heart swelled at your words, the weight that had been pressing down on him all day finally lifting. “Thank you,” he whispered. “You have no idea how much this means.”

He kissed you again, this time slower, savouring the warmth of your lips and the way you melted against him. His hands moved to your face, cupping your cheeks, feeling the way your lips curved into a smile against his. When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “I’ll make you proud out there.”

“You already have,” you replied, giving him one last peck on the lips. “You should probably go back now or else you’re gonna miss your first game.”

Will nodded, a confident smile spreading across his face. With one final squeeze of your hand, he turned and jogged back into the locker room, feeling lighter than he had all day. The game hadn’t even started yet, but he already knew this was going to be a night he’d never forget.

[the-s1lly-corner]

TADC cast crushing on the reader

+ gummigoo and princess loolilalu!! Hooray! i think i might have written something like this a long long long time ago buuuuuuuut with episode 2 out and more info on some characters, i decided to remake it... if i have written this before..!

Notes: reader is GN but post mainly focuses on the canon characters

CWs: none

CAINE

Very obvious, and he's not going to waste too much time flirting with you before he asks you out on a date. He gives you special attention compared to the other circus members and always checks in on you first. He's open to flirting, but he doesn't go overboard with it... he's got to keep it family friendly, you know! Boggles at you if you return the energy, before regaining himself and hitting right back with a line. Doesn't hold back any punches when trying to impress you, it hits its peak when he tries to ask you out. It can get... overwhelming...

POMNI

Poor girl. She's so awkward around you, she doesn't want you to think she's some loser. Even though she kind of is already/j. Tries to make conversation with you to get to know you better and to just spend time with you. She's... clumsy... in the sense that she stumbles over her own words and seems more on edge when you're around. You might even think you did something wrong to make her act so tense around you. Not at all confident when asking you out, actually you might be the one to ask her first just to get the tension done and over with. She tries her best not to seem rude or put off by you, she's just clamming up is all!

RAGATHA

Similar to Pomni she's a little awkward, but she keeps herself composed much easier. Yoinking the fact that she practices her words before talking to someone and using it here. She hypes herself up before knocking on your door to check in on you. Very attentive to you and your needs, she subconsciously puts your wants/needs above her own... call her out on that because there's going to come a point where it's going to come to her detriment. Makes you things every now and then, cannot accept anything in return but she will try. Asks you out when she feels the time is right, and even if you don't feel the same she tries to move on with the friendship as normal unless you want some space.

JAX

When he's crushing someone he's the type to tease them and lightly bully them. "But Admin, he already does that," You might say. And you wouldn't be wrong. I can see him leaning more into it, though. So if you notice him getting onto you more than he did before.. well you might just assume he's being a jerk. He thinks love is gross, as immature as it sounds. Cooties mentality, so he does what he can to try to smother those feelings. On top of that he hates the idea of being vulnerable, giving him all the more incentive to try to destroy those feelings. Oddly enough, he still tosses pickup lines your way if he notices it gets under your skin. Is it mean? Yes, but let's not forget that Jax IS mean...

KINGER

It's hard to tell when he's crushing on someone simply because he's so... Kinger. But some big signs to let you know that you're on his mind is him hovering around you more and more as time passes. He's already lost his wife and deeply scared that something is going to happen to you. Actually, that fear might push him to tell you how he feels fairly quickly. It's nearly suffocating, and he needs that peace of mind that he can at least tell you how he feels before anything hypothetically happens. Strikes up conversations whenever he can, a lot revolving around his own interests because that's what helps keep him grounded and in the present moment... but he wants to hear you talk to! A bit of a flirt, surprisingly, but he's very polite about it.

ZOOBLE

Its hard to read zooble sometimes, but they make it easy by being forward with you. They come forward when they realize they have feelings for you, and that said feelings aren't just a dud and won't pass easily. Very accepting on whatever you answer, but I can see them needing some space from you if you reject them. It doesn't mean the friendship is over, Zooble just needs time to get those feelings out. Similarly to Jax, they don't like being vulnerable like that. Unlike Jax, they want to get it done and over with sooner rather than later. Not a flirt, but they will become more... noticeably relaxed and open around you. At least by Zooble standards.

GANGLE

Shy.. and awkward... I know I keep saying the girls are awkward, but Gangle is going to give Pomni a run for her money with how much of a mess she becomes. Doodles you a lot, becomes more cagey about her sketchbooks and papers because of this. Follows along with whatever you suggest you two do for the day, and doesn't protest all that much because she wants to make you happy and perhaps even impress you. Definitely fantasizes about some fanfiction-esque scene that leads to the two of you ending up together... it's actually a little... pathetic... and it's unlikely to happen like that, and knowing a certain circus member.. cough cough Jax.. she's probably not going to get the chance to tell you herself on her terms...

LOO

Very straight forward and confident when asking you out, and she takes it with grace if you don't feel the same. Similar to Caine, she gives you special attention! She might even give you some special privileges in her kingdom... definitely gives you some pointers that she's developing some feelings for you. A great listener, wants to know just about everything about you and she's going to let you rant and ramble about anything you want. She responds too, by the way. She doesn't just listen, she keeps the conversation going. Leaves you gifts every now and then!

GUMMIGOO

If this is post... everything... and he was allowed to stay, having a crush on someone so soon actually distresses him a little bit. He's just learned that he's an NPC and everything he knew prior to... everything.. was fake.. it all feels too sudden. The stress translates into frustration, so you may fall under the impression that he's upset with you. He is.. but only a little, for making him feel like this. But a bulk of it is towards himself and his circumstances. If this were any other time or if he didn't have the knowledge he has now, he would be more open and even attempt to flirt and tease you. Sad stuff.

[runninriot]

Dirty Wishes On My Mind

written for @steddiesongfics and @steddiesmuttyseptember

inspired by the song FU In My Head by Cloudy June | SSS prompt: clothes on | rated: E | wc: 4.172 | tags: sexual content, indecent behaviour in public (but they don't get caught), dirty talk, dry humping, coming in pants, confessions, realisations, Eddie has a Crush on Steve, Steve has a Revelation, friends to lovers | complete fic on ao3

    “I’m telling you, Stevie! That guy had no shame whatsoever. Didn’t even hesitate to pull blank in front of me to show off that ridiculous tattoo right above his dick. It was horrendous! I even offered to cover it up for free but he declined, said the ladies dig it.”

Eddie snorts and shakes his head. The things you have to put up with sometimes in his field of work never ceases to amaze him.

   “But hey, can’t say I didn’t like the overall view. A feast for my imagination. I’ll definitely use it the next time I’m ‘feeling lonely’.”

He uses his fingers to sign quotation marks and wiggles his eyebrows, delighted at the blush creeping up Steve’s cheeks when he realises what Eddie means by that.

Steve’s always been a little shy when it comes to talking about these things but they’ve been friends long enough for him to have gotten used to Eddie’s big, unfiltered mouth.

Eddie loves to rile him up, just a little, never so much that it makes him truly uneasy but enough to get a little kick out of it himself.

Steve’s cute when he blushes.

He’s damn fucking pretty, always, is the thing.

So what if Eddie stares a little too obvious? It’s not his fault Steve is so-

Nevermind.

He averts his gaze, takes a sip from his drink to cool off, giving Steve the chance to change the subject to something else.

  "Sometimes I fuck you in my head."

Eddie splutters his mouthful of beer half over himself, half over the table, can't believe he heard Steve right.

No. That must be a mistake because he can't possibly have said that.

Right?

   "I don't know why, it's just- sometimes when I touch myself, I think of you, you know?"

Eddie does, in fact, not know. Because what?

   "Steve, dude, look at me. Did you take something? Without me?"

He must've. There's no way he'd talk that much bullshit if he was sober. They've only been here for ten minutes, fifteen max, both still on their first beer and there is no way in hell Steve is already that drunk.

So this must be something else.

Because it is absolutely impossible that his straight best friend would ever fantasize about anything other than boobies and soft lips and long lashes and, hell, maybe even a tight juicy ass – a woman’s ass – to get him going. Steve Harrington does not think about guys when he touches himself. And most certainly not about Eddie.

He’s messing with him, that must be it. A little revenge for Eddie being insufferable.

   “Hah, yeah you got me there, Harrington. For a second, I really thought you’d lost your mind,” Eddie laughs half-heartedly in a weak attempt to cover up the slight tremble in his voice.

    For a second you got me thinking my pining ass died and went to heaven, is the thought he keeps to himself.

Another second goes by and Eddie is still waiting for Steve to laugh, to maybe swat his arm and tell him ‘Ha! Got’cha! You should see your stupid face.’ but that doesn’t happen. Instead, the air thickens and the tension between them makes Eddie nervous.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Steve opens his mouth.

But somehow, that only makes it worse.

   “Is- is that bad?”

Steve turns away, eyes now locked on his own hand where it’s wrapped tightly around his bottle. Something in his friend’s demeanour shifts; it’s like he’s slowly sinking into himself, like he’s trying to hide.

   “Stevie, hey.” Eddie brings his thumb and finger to Steve’s chin, using gentle force to make him look back up again.

He seems so small all of a sudden, sad somehow, but he huffs out an awkward laugh and rolls his eyes.

   “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I don’t even know why I said that.”

Heat spreads in every part of Eddie’s face, up to his ears and down to his chest and his heart skips a beat because-

Steve didn’t take it back. He didn’t confirm Eddie’s assumption of it being a joke, no. He apologised because he thinks he did something wrong.

   “It’s not bad, Steve. I’m just- a little confused.”

Eddie’s hand moves on its own account, wanders higher up, fingertips lightly dancing across his jaw line and over his cheek until they reach Steve’s hair line just above his ear  where he can’t help but dive deeper into his soft strands.

He doesn’t miss the moment Steve’s eyes flutter shut for a too long second, and how his lips slightly part when he lets out a sigh.

   “Why would you think of me when you’re- I thought you’re-“

    Straight, Eddie struggles to say, fears it would come out wrong, maybe sound like an insult which it is not.

Of course, not. Everyone’s free to love and like whatever and whoever they want. It’s just- it bothers Eddie more than he likes to admit because Steve being straight means that he’ll never have a chance.

That his stupid heart will forever be suffering because his best friend will never be more than that. Not his lover, not his partner, only his friend. And that’s okay, that’s fine, perfect even. It’s more than Eddie could hope for.

But that’s exactly what makes it so hard to wrap his head around Steve’s unexpected confession. That’s why it takes Eddie’s breath away when Steve leans into his touch, pupils blown wide in the cosy light of the bar.

   “I-“ Steve stops himself, digs his teeth into his bottom lip as if to prevent any more words from slipping out.

Eddie feels like he’s in trance, doesn’t even know what he’s doing until it’s too late, until his hand has already wandered back down, thumb touching soft flesh when he pulls it free from Steve’s bite, lingering there, tracing the seam – he can’t stop, can’t not push between parted lips where Steve welcomes him with just a hint of tongue, warm and wet.

And Eddie has to swallow a startled moan.

---

continue reading here

[inuyashaluver]

hey there! just wanted to say hello and i hope you're doing well. i'm the same person who asked earlier if the requests were open, u would make me very happy if you could take mine.

i have an idea, perhaps s(mut)omething with alessia...

after losing the final in the wwc (or any match they have lost, which so far is several 😫😫), lessi and reader can't stop arguing and blaming each other. the tension becomes so intense that unexpectedly, they stop fighting and start kissing. the next day, both act as if nothing happened, but this turns out to be even more annoying as they continue making unpleasant comments towards each other, ruining the team dynamic. however, the rest of the girls on the team have no idea of the true reason behind all this and they strive to make them talk and resolve their conflict.

blame game - alessia russo

alessia russo x reader

description: in which you and alessia have a complicated relationship, only becoming more complicated during a heated screaming match after a loss

warnings: cheeky little arguments, angsty, swearing, fake football stats!! little long

a/n: hiya, lovely! thank you for the request, hope you enjoyyy ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and alessia had an..interesting relationship in the beginning to say the least. you hated each other but also had an immense amount of love and respect for each other? it’s complicated and you both can’t explain it.

you and alessia coincidentally always ended up at the same clubs but you never really talked.

you got signed to arsenal first and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes when she got signed right after.

perfect alessia, with her perfect face, her perfect football skills, her perfect scoring. everything. alessia was perfect and it drove you fucking insane.

in alessia’s case, you made her blood boil. the perfect defender she couldn’t get past in training, you with your perfect muscles that flexed in all the right ways, you with your perfect face. you were perfect and she couldn’t stand you.

the issue was that you literally were never apart, no matter what, at arsenal, national team, you were always together. but what you and alessia didn’t realise was that your hatred was masked with true affection.

when alessia did end up at arsenal, she was different. she was lighter, a little more tolerable than usual and it was intriguing, but you chose to hate (admire) her from a distance. you had all the same friends, hung out in the same crowd and people found it interesting how the two of you weren’t best friends.

—

overtime, both of you began to view each other in a different light.

alessia was clumsy and everyone knew it, even you. so one day, she was walking along with victoria to training while you walked behind with lotte. alessia was laughing brightly and it honestly gave you a funny feeling in your stomach.

victoria pushes her and the blonde stumbles, about to fall to her ass but you caught her instantly. you held her by the waist and helped her to stand upright, you could feel her body tense in your hold.

she turns to face you and is surprised you were the one who actually caught her, “thanks” she says quietly, you give her a curt nod and clear your throat, moving past her and leaving three curious eyes watching as you leave to talk to beth.

it was one of the first instances where you had alessia pink cheeked and stuttering.

—

you were all in the change room getting prepared for an upcoming game with arsenal. you hear alessia grumbling from two cubbies over about something. you’d ask her what’s wrong but lotte beat her to it.

“i forgot my shin pads” alessia whines, her head thrown back in frustration. “and you don’t have any spare?” lotte laughs, alessia throws her a glare and flips her off, going through her bag in hopes of finding them. lotte goes to her cubby to lace up her boots after teasing alessia.

you knew you and alessia wore the same type of shin pads, so when you were putting yours in your socks, you remembered the spare you had in your bag.

you wordlessly take them out and walk over to lotte, putting them in her hands and subtly nodding to alessia. lotte and the england girls knew you had a really weird relationship, you liked each other but didn’t, it was confusing not only for the two of you but everyone around you.

lotte looks at you in slight surprise but nods at you, a silent agreement that they wouldn’t be from you. but as soon as you returned to your cubby and lotte gave alessia the shin pads, alessia glanced at you almost immediately.

“thank you, lotte!” alessia smiles, they were a specific type of shin pads that only you and alessia wore, who else would it be?

you kept your head down the whole time and continued getting ready, missing the looks alessia had been giving you from the other side of the room.

during half time, arsenal was up 2-0 and you were both playing extremely well. you walk over breathless towards the other girls who were getting water, when you went to look for yours, alessia held it out to you experimentally, you look at her in slight shock, you felt your hands get clammy from the pretty blonde doing something so simple.

“thank you” you breathe out, “you’re playing well” alessia blurts out, her cheeks were flushed, she must be exhausted from the match. “thanks, you as well” you give her a tight lipped smile, she looks down in embarrassment and you analyse her. she looked beautiful. snap out of it, you thought.

—

it was the UEFA women’s nation’s league matches and you and alessia were both playing for england. so far you’d been winning all matches until it got to the forth match against belgium.

today was an off day for you, alessia has been clouding your mind more than usual. she kept doing little acts of service for you and it was making you insane.

belgium had scored first and it was increasing the pressure for the whole team. you were defending your ass off, stopping every opportunity you could. alessia had managed to even it out and when you gathered to celebrate, you gave her a little nod with a clap on the back.

her cheeks were pink and yours were too. everything was fine until they got the second goal. the player you were marking confused you and you ran right instead of left. you sprint to get back on your player but she shot from a distance and it just slipped past mary’s fingers.

you curse under your breath, receiving a glare from mary that you expected and you held your hand up to her in apology. she yells some words of encouragement to you and you try to focus, but a certain blonde looked at you in disappointment and it made your head all fuzzy. alessia was a distraction.

when the half time whistle went, you stormed off, angry at yourself. “what the fuck was that?” alessia storms in after you, grabbing your arm to turn you around and you do, but you rip your arm from her her grasp and look at her angrily.

“russo, stop, i fucking know!” you exclaim, glaring at her and moving to sit in your cubby with the angriest expression she’s ever seen you have in her life.

“it’s just not like you, it was sloppy-” alessia mumbles and you unfortunately heard it. you get up and move over to her, standing chest to chest and looking at each other dead in the eye. jaws clenched, eyes angry, body heat radiating in waves.

“listen here, star girl, i made a fucking mistake, we’re not all perfect like you and never make mistakes so i’m begging you, russo, shut the fuck up” you grit out, your breath fanning her lips had alessia going insane. if she moved just an inch, you’d be kissing.

the other girls start to walk in and you separate, immediately getting pulled by mary and getting scolded like no tomorrow. you were never sloppy and everyone knew that.

you shake it off and the match continues, beth had managed to even out the score and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

you all work hard to get that third goal to win but it’s just not happening. you defend with everything you have, stopping numerous chances from the other team. unfortunately, lucy had made a mistake this time and belgium got another goal.

when the final whistle blew, you fell to the ground, you were furious. 3-2 was the score and it tantalised you when you glanced at the big screen. you weren’t a bad sportsman so you congratulate everyone.

when you and your team did your handshakes, you and alessia avoided each other like the plague. the team stays out while you walk to the change room, you just didn’t want to be out there right now. alessia was hot on your trail.

once you plop down in your cubby, alessia stands in front of you with her arms crossed.

“what’s wrong with you?” she asks simply, you look up at her and laugh in disbelief. “go ahead, russo, take out all your anger on me” your laughter turned into a scowl.

“well first off, why were you so sloppy, don’t you care?” alessia rambles, she didn’t mean any of it and you both knew that. she was angry and so were you.

“what about you, huh? couldn’t get another goal, aren’t you supposed to be scoring left, right and centre, star girl?” you taunt, looking up to see her reaction and surely enough, her jaw was clenched.

“yeah, maybe, but what about that third goal, huh? why didn’t you help lucy? it was partly your fault” she scoffs, “i was nowhere near her!” you exclaimed, standing up and crossing your own arms over your chest to glare at her.

“you’re better than that, (y/n), come on what’s bothering you?” she questions, taking a little step closer towards you, “nothing is bothering me” you grumble and she shakes her head instantly,

“i’ve known you for fucking 15 years so cut the bullshit, what’s wrong with you?” she tries again, “you’re what’s wrong with me, you’re driving me fucking insane!” you exclaim, she stares at you in shock.

her breath hitches as she sees your cheeks going slightly pink, she doesn’t know how she has the confidence but she grabs your face in both of her hands and smashes her lips on yours.

you freeze for a moment but kiss her back, you pull her closer by her waist and you both hum into each other's mouth. she leans into you and prompts you to press you against her.

your mouths are moving completely synchronised before you both add your tongues. she whines into your mouth when your teeth gently graze her bottom lip before she rips herself from you.

you look at her surprised, both of you breathing heavily as she moves away from you. her face is full of confusion, everything is so overwhelming at this moment. she looks at you conflicted for a second and runs out the door, leaving you there slightly hurt standing there alone. “less-” you call out to her but she was already gone.

you looked like a kicked puppy when everyone entered the change rooms but everyone thought you were just disappointed with the result, and you were, but you were more disappointed that the girl you liked clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

—

alessia couldn’t look at you. she felt awful. everything was just piling on top of her and it was all too much. she knew she liked you, she always has and now that you potentially liked her? she was driving herself mad with all the lingering thoughts. so much that sunshine, happy alessia has taken a page out of your book and was a little grumpy at training this morning.

you both looked furious and it wasn’t hard for everyone to put two and two together. you wouldn’t stand near each other, you’d attempt to look at her and she’d completely ignore you.

she made an effort to steer clear of you and it made you feel sick. you barely had any sleep, replaying the kiss over and over in your head. as well as replaying alessia walking out on you like you were nothing.

you were placed on opposite teams for training, and of course, you had to mark alessia. everyone noticed your hesitation with marking the girl, you wouldn’t tackle like you usually do. you let her get away with easy stuff so much that leah had to pull you aside and ask what was wrong. after about 5 minutes of you assuring her that you were okay, she let you go but kept a close eye the entire time.

and during the time of her watching, she noticed the way you’d nervously look at alessia. she also noticed the way alessia genuinely could not look at you.

after a few more missed tackles, everyone’s telling you to shake it off and you just can’t. “fuck, i know! i’m sorry” you groan after alessia scored around you. that’s when leah had it.

“right, less, (y/n/n) follow me” she says sternly, you take a deep breath and follow her, alessia follows from a far distance.

leah takes you both to the training room and makes you sit next to each other in front of her. “i’m not dealing with both of you acting like children, you’re sitting in here and sorting it out” she huffs, “don’t you dare try to come out until it’s fully resolved” you both nod at her and she nods back, leaving the two of you to talk while she closes the door behind her.

it was painfully silent as you both sat in the change room, your scowl was evident. as much as you loved the girl next to you, she left without any explanation yesterday and it hurt.

alessia adjusts her position as she sits, accidentally knocking your knee with hers. her touch burned your skin, her cheeks went bright pink. “sorry” she mumbles, moving a little further from you.

“you’re grumpy” you point out, the blonde breathes out a laugh and glances at you quickly, “mhm, i’ve been around you too much” she jokes, the corners of your lips lifted up slightly.

“listen, less, we can just forget about everything and go back to hating each other, i don’t care” you exhale, you do care and that’s the problem. alessia tenses at your words, you never call her anything other than ‘russo’, only using ‘alessia’ if it was really necessary.

“i don’t hate you” she says softly, fiddling with her hands in her lap, she’s avoiding eye contact and it’s killing you. you look over at her with raised eyebrows, “huh?” you say almost dumbly, feeling stupid about this whole situation already.

“i don’t hate you, (y/n), not at all” she breathes out, her voice is so quiet you almost can’t hear it.

“why did you run from me yesterday?” you ask cautiously, moving on the bench slightly closer to her. she clears her throat nervously, eyes still trained on her lap,

“i just-” she chokes out, looking up at the ceiling for a brief second before looking back down. “i got overwhelmed, with the game, with the kiss, with you” she swallows, she leans forward and puts her head in her hands.

you look at her worried, placing a gentle hand on her back that had her insides burning. “i’m sorry” you quip and she looks at you quickly, “no, don’t be sorry, you’ve done nothing wrong, it’s me” she rambles, grabbing your hand that was resting in your leg.

“(y/n), i’m so sorry i walked out on you yesterday” she says earnestly, she watches as your gaze softens, she’s never seen you like this.

“it’s okay-” you run your hand over her back and she interrupts you quickly, “no, it’s not okay, i was rude, and i’m really sorry” she frowns at you, you smile at her reassuringly,

“lessi, it’s okay, really, i do wanna say sorry for how i spoke to you yesterday, i was rude and i didn’t mean any of it, i was just pissed with the loss” you ramble, alessia smiles and nods at you, “it’s okay” she shrugs, her bright smile makes your cheek twinge pink.

“so, is everything normal?” you mock leah’s accent and alessia laughs, this is a new side of you that she’s never seen before and she can’t get enough of it. looks like the big, grumpy defender has met her match.

“of course” she smiles, you’re still holding hands and both of you were unwilling to let go. “alright, and i’m assuming the kiss is behind us?” you question, alessia furrows her eyebrows as she looks at you.

“no, let’s talk about it” she says sheepishly, you look at her with raised eyebrows. “o-okay” you stutter, you move your body to face her more and she copies you, both of you are now facing each other with one hand holding each other.

“were you okay with it?” you cautioned, alessia beams at you before nodding, “yeah, it was nice” she grins, “were you okay with it?” she mocks teasingly, you smile and nod at her, “it was nice” you tease, making the blonde giggle.

“do you want to do it again?” alessia suggests, making your eyes widen. “who knew you were this forward, russo” you gasp exaggeratedly, she laughs at you. “hm, it’s new” she shrugs, you smile back at her and glance between her eyes and her lips.

you close the gap and kiss her sweetly, it’s much more gentle than yesterday’s kiss, this one was a confirmation of feelings, assurance. it made you both giddy and excited.

you pull away from her and she chases your lips, kissing you for a bit longer before pulling away and giving you a satisfied smile.

“i’m in love with you” you blurt out, surprising yourself completely, this girl had you wrapped around her finger.

you both look at each other in shock before she breaks out into a bright grin, “i’m in love with you too” she looks at you with so much affection, you could feel yourself melting in a puddle.

you both smile at each other before you pull her forward for another kiss. she smiles into you and you tug her into your lap, she straddles you and kisses you sweetly.

you hum into her and pull her closer. you pull away from her slightly, “you’re perfect” you say against her lips, she pecks your lips with a gentle smile, “you’re perfect” she parrots, moving to kiss you again.

you both walk out of the room with shy smiles and kiss swollen lips. she wraps her hand around your arm and holds you close to her. you’re both smiling so brightly that it had leah completely satisfied. she knew you both needed a little push.

a complete shift, both of you can’t keep your hands off each other, stealing glances, giggling and whispering, the whole team was shocked.

“i thought you two hated each other?” ella teases, “we do” you mock, pulling alessia to your chest and kissing her cheeks repeatedly, ella screams and covers her eyes while you and alessia grin brightly.

alessia looks at you with so much love, kissing your lips sweetly before chasing ella. that’s when a smug leah slings her arm over your shoulder.

“just saying, i knew you liked her all along” leah sings out, you laugh and nod, “alright, lee” you smile. alessia from a distance waves at you enthusiastically and you wink at her, waving back. she smiles brightly and goofs off with ella.

—

you both ended up moving in together, alessia had fully taken you out of your shell. you both made each other so happy, everyone could see how much you loved each other.

it took a while for everyone to get used to you being all lovey dovey with each other but once they see how you act and behave together, it’s incredibly endearing.

you both shine brightly with each other and it shows, you’re quite thankful for that loss to belgium, not that you’d ever tell that to anyone. well..alessia knows. alessia knows everything.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - just pretend it’s you! ily millsy

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

alessiarusso99: my grumpy girl

view all comments

yourname: my happy girl

leahwilliamsonn: she doesn’t look grumpy at all, mate

↳ alessiarusso99: yeah, because i’m there

↳ yourname: so true

↳ leahwilliamsonn: what the fuck did you do to her?

↳ alessiarusso99: gave her a little kiss and she’s happy chappy

↳ yourname: very happy chappy

[remotewatch]

make that mfer BAM 💥🥣

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 1k wc

Summary: Jack doubts his speechwriting skills. You tug that nonsense right out of him.

cws: emergency handjob, food play, cum eating, he cum in he got damn soup idk what else to tell ya !! dear readers please make sure you’re registered to vote and do try to get involved with the Harris campaign in any way you can (it’s what Jack would want, after all 😁)

hats off to my darling editor @mystardustmelodyyy as always 🩵🗳️

minors dni in fact don’t even glance at it

Light-footed staff weave around your path as you track the length of the house to check on tonight’s finishing touches. Your shoes clack against the mirror-polished foyer tile in time with the cadence of your speech repetition.

A text had just come in from your assistant: everyone was having a splendid time, they were on their way to your place now, and a smidge of traffic might push the start of dinner back, ten minutes at the most. Everything was falling into place, but you couldn’t turn down a free moment to go over your words one last time.

“As you all know, my grandparents were lifelong patrons of the arts… honored to present our new exhibition at my fiancé’s library… we thank you all for your generous…” you lose your train of thought when you spot Jack pacing frantically in an alcove, hands twitching as he stifles reflexive hang loose signs. He jolts at the hand you place on his shoulder and defaults to an uncharacteristically strained smile when he sees it’s you.

“How’s the rehearsal going?”

“Well, I think I hate it.” He bites a knuckle and squints exasperatedly at the tiny font on his phone. “There’s so many jokes in here. Why?!” Jack getting cold feet was the only thing you hadn’t planned for; usually he’s the one swooping in when you’re in such a state. There’s absolutely no time for rewrites, so you need to shut this shit down before he decides to start editing anyway. You squeeze his shoulder a little bit, and his head snaps up to see your most convincing faux-worried face.

“Can you help me with one thing real quick, and then we can get it sorted?”

That breaks him out of the fog long enough for you to drag him through the dining room and into the kitchen abuzz with steam and roving caterers.

A curt “Out!” scatters them, and then it’s just you two and the gentle hum of the convection ovens. You guide Jack over to where tonight’s soup is already plated, then to his bowl placed off to the side, accompanied by a post it stuck to the counter: “JS NO SWEET POTATO”.

He’s still lost in thought as you nudge him closer and move behind him.

“I already tasted it, it’s fine,” he mumbles as you start undoing his pants. His voice trails to a sigh when you take his cock out.

“You loved that speech all last week. What’s going on now?”

“I just-“ he doesn’t comment when you start stroking him, but you can feel the muscles in his back loosen slightly, and some of the tension leaks out of his voice. “I really want this to go well for us.”

Your unoccupied hand slides up his lapel and grasps his to stop the fumbling with his tie.

“It’s already going well, and we’re going to keep it that way.” His brow is still furrowed, but that cute little fuzzy edge his voice gets when you take control is seeping in.

“Won’t they be here soon?”

“Not for at least twenty minutes.” The slippery noises your movements make as he starts to leak echo off all the stainless steel and sound almost amplified in the empty space. It’s just warm enough in the kitchen for your brain to flirt with the idea of calling the whole thing off and spending the night here. “Don’t worry. I won’t let the clock run out on you.”

You can feel his grip on his doubts loosening with every deliberate stroke, and soon he’s bucking into your hand as much as the space between you and the counter will let him.

Jack’s posture sags as he relaxes against you, the sudden movement nearly bobbing him close enough to dip his tip into the soup.

“Keep moving around like that and you’ll burn yourself.”

“Sorry.” He sounds a million miles away from the ball of nerves you found a few minutes ago.

“On your toes. You’re making a mess.” And he does, of course, so you have a proper angle to aim him down at the bowl and prevent the twin rivulets of precum from sliding down your wrist onto his trousers. His mouth falls open when the first drops break the surface tension.

“That’s all I want you to focus on. You know you’ll do well, I know you’ll do well, just do this for me, okay?”

He nods wordlessly.

“Say it for me,” you croon softly into his ear, watching the goosebumps blossom down his neck when your lips graze it.

Jack’s head slumps to the side for a better look at you, but his irises are wandering like bumblebees and working against him.

“I’m focusing.” he slurs.

“I know, I know.” Your hand speeds up to match his breathing as he white knuckles the counter. It’s hard to keep your wrist steady when you feel his ass start tightening up.

“It’s gonna make a mess,” he gasps out.

“No it won’t. Stay still for me. You’ve got this. I know you do.”

Jack’s whole body tenses up, and his protests fade into little pants at your ambiguous encouragement. He throbs in your hand one, two, three, four times as you hold him just a whisper above the steaming bowl. No splash; the rest of him is trembling with the effort, but his hips stay locked in place to neatly spill into his meal.

As soon as his heels are back on solid ground, you’re stretching up to kiss right above his eyebrow. A hand cradling his jaw eases him back to reality.

“It’s a great speech.”

“It’s a great speech.” He can't stop himself from smiling, finally relaxed enough to let it reach his eyes.

-at the table-

From the beginning you’d insisted Jack should speak after you; he was much better at settling everyone into dinner conversation following your more formal remarks. Of course, your guests are utterly captivated by him; he manages to get even your sternest donors chuckling in under five minutes. So captivated, in fact, that you’re free to ogle at him from the other end of the table without worry. You’re crossing and recrossing your legs watching his mouth move, realizing for the first time tonight how fucking hungry you are. When the soup is served, you scarcely blink watching his first mouthful. He stares back just as entranced, completely forgetting his table manners and using his thumb to swipe an errant drop into his mouth.

[elfqueen006]

Hide And Seek

Sunny Day Jack x Reader

a drabble i came up with on the fly. first person pov. suggestive.

---

It was only supposed to be a game of hide and seek.

“Sunshine.” He calls out my name in a coo. I hear him shuffling around. Moving objects and pacing the house with his large clown shoes. I’m quiet as a mouse all the while, huddled in my closet. I’m surprised it isn’t the first place he looks, inside my room. But the pros and cons of this hiding spot was that it was too obvious, so it’d either be the first place you looked, or the last.

I expected Jack to go with the first place. He was a bit of a strategist when he played games, and also a bit competitive, if anything. And when he got in the zone, he became determined.

I hear more shuffling, “Are you in… here?” I flinch at the distant sound of a door swinging open, clasping my hands over my mouth. The door slams shut harshly. “Drat…”

I stifle a giggle. He sounds like a cartoon villain.

A pause. More shuffling. A creak in the door of the spare room. Ian’s old room. There’s more shuffling, then a clatter. I think I hear something like angry sputtering. I feel a cold sweat coming on. Jack is rarely ever - if at all - upset or angry. He’s been disappointed, and I hate whenever he was like that, especially with me. But he almost never showed signs of abrasiveness towards anyone. It might be funny if I could see his face, but the muttering along with hectic shuffling gives an added tension to this once fun game.

“Sunshine. Where are you?” He demands. There’s a bite in his voice I don’t expect. I involuntarily squeak.

Another pause. Then heavy but sure footfalls approach my room.

“...Sunshine?”

I gulp. This man… he can’t have known where I was by a little sound, right?

I keep quiet, pursing my lips shut. I can’t stop the heavy breathing through my nose though; my heart races as Jack paces around the room.

I see his hulking figure through the closet blinds. At times I’m only mildly annoyed at our vast height difference, but from the position I’m in now, I’m flustered – in a state of unease. Like I don’t want him to find me not just for the game’s sake, but for a sort of primal instinct of self preservation.

The next thing Jack does astounds me. He rubs his hands together, rolls his shoulders and lifts up my bed. A low growl escapes him when I’m not there, and he drops it unceremoniously.

“Fuck.” I breathed.

The silhouette of technicolor fwips in my direction and stomps over to the closet before the doors swing open.

Jack looks so… different from this angle. Almost terrifying. His usually easygoing grin is strained and feral on his face. His eyes stare down at me with a crazed intensity.

“I found you.” He said it as if I were really lost. Like he’d been searching for a year before finding me hiding in uncharted territory.

I laughed weakly, “Yep. Let’s um… do another round! You’re it now.”

“No. No…” Jack lifts me off the ground, pulling me to my now disheveled bed. My nightstand lamp is still on, and in the light I can see Jack’s cheeks are flushed. I’m about to ask him if he’s okay, or if he could slow down, but it dies on my tongue; the muscle is like lead – heavy in my mouth, thus I can’t make a sound.

Though I let a soft moan out when Jack kisses my neck.

“You’re too good at this game.” He muttered on my skin. He kisses up to the lobe of my ear before turning to whisper in it, “I have another game in mind, though.”

Lightly, he pushes me on my back, undoing my pants with a wide grin on his face, “I call it, hide the pierrot!”

[agirlandhersweetdelusions]

Mermaid who is infatuated with your legs and wants to be in between them. The encounter is by chance, but it ends in something deeper than friendship. 🌊

Feminine Reader x Mermaid

CW: Smut | Some Horror | Mentions of Drowning | No death

"C'mon don't be a baby," Noah said. His tone indicated that he was joking, but you knew well enough that deep down, he hoped you would swim in Lake Lost at night.

"Leave her alone. You know she's not down for things like that," Mira hissed in his direction.

Mira had been your best friend since high school. She knew what you liked, didn't like, and downright hated. Which made it all the more surprising when she started going out with Noah years later.

Noah had always been an ass. He spent a majority of 11th grade in detention, and a majority of college skipped class from being too hungover. In your opinion, Mira was too good for him. It was an inside joke that if she were into girls that you would treat her way better.

You sighed. "If only," you thought to yourself.

The water seemed to have an electric hum to it tonight, and the closer you walked to the edge of the dock, the louder it got.

"Do you guys feel that?" You asked, turning to face your two friends. Of course they didn't because they were too busy making out. Again.

You cleared your throat.

"Earth to horny. Can you hear me? I am standing right here, you know."

Pulling away from Noah, Mira's eyes widened and she bit her lower lip. Embarrassed looked cute on her.

Noah, however, wore embarrassment about as well as he would wear anything. Proudly and way too loud for your liking.

"What can I say," he pulled Mira back to his chest. "She's hot," he finished with an annunciation on the "t".

"At least go back to the car so I don't have to watch," you sneered. Clearly, you were the least important thing here.

"No! This is supposed to be our little reunion before the wedding," Mira's eyes dropped as she tried to step towards you. Ah, right. The wedding. You were going to be Mira's maid of honor next week.

None of it felt real. The wedding. College graduation. Hell, even life itself felt strange these days. It's as if everything you knew turned inside out over night, and nobody else felt the difference but you.

You took a deep breath.

"I can always jump in the lake some other time," you faked a half smile.

"Besides. I'm sure you two would like to make one last memory here before becoming," you swallowed, "husband and wife."

Mira turned her head. What her eyes fixated on, you couldn't quite tell. The only thing apparent is that she'd rather look anywhere but at her so-called best friend.

"Well," Noah said breaking the tension.

"Maybe she's right. We can always go for some new memories." He wiggled his eyebrows and Mira's shoulders eased. Your stomach lurched in a pattern with the waves behind you.

"If you're sure -" Mira began.

"I'm sure. Go. I'll be here. I - I missed Lake Lost."

"Really?" They said in unison, brows furrowed.

"Yeah. You know, I love lore and mysteries. What is Lake Lost besides one big mystery. All those bodies are still missing. Surely, it was from boating accidents or drowning, but still. You guys deserve some privacy."

Mira's gaze leveled with yours. Her eyes, a coppery brown, finally showed signs of softening.

You were getting comfortable under the heat of her eyes when Noah swept her off of her feet. Literally.

"Let's go, future Mrs. Scobolt."

With that, they were disappearing in heaps of laughter back towards the car. It wasn't quite that far from the dock, but Mira suggested parking at the entrance in case anyone showed up.

Technically, the park closed at sunset which was 2 hours ago, but when you saw the sign from the backseat of the car, you got a little excited.

Mira hadn't been wrong. You guys used to spend every evening here in the summer. It was where you learned to swim, where Mira caught a baby crab, where a pelican stole your shoe, and where you and Mira kissed.

These waters have seen everything and more. Much more.

Your spine ran cold in the July heat at the thought of the deaths. They had explanations for all of them, but it was eerie how they all occurred at night. Who would go boating at night? The lake is closed!

Then again, here you were. You looked back towards the car, but a thick fog had begun to roll off of the restless waters. You couldn't see more than 200 feet around you in any direction. It was as if a cloud had swallowed you in the time you were thinking.

Going back to the car was still an option, but the mental image of Mira being pounded into by Noah set off a dozen alarms in your head.

Her head rolling back, his hands on her hips.

No. You'd stay at the dock until you were sure that whatever they were doing was over.

Cementing the idea in your head, you say down at the edge of the wooden structure. The water reminded you of the midnight sky, an abyss that had no end. Yet, the clinginess of your shirt to your skin meant that the humidity was only rising.

You decided to soak your feet in the water, and as your legs made contact with the coolness of the lake, a happy sigh escaped your lips.

A few minutes pass of you relaxing on your forearms, feet gently swaying in the lake. You watched the ripples from your moments with hooded eyes.

"I can see how people fall asleep out here," you think whilst fighting back a yawn.

The rustle of leaves in the summer breeze, the chirp of bullfrogs, the increasing bubble of the water - wait.

You sit up, fully alert and eyes wide. The bubbles are concentrated in one area, but they're quickly moving closer to you.

Whipping your head to the car, you open your mouth to call for help. The problem is that nothing comes out. You're stuck.

It's as if you've been submerged in ice. A chill coats your bones, freezing you in place. Your mind races onward, begging your legs to rise from the water.

The circle of erratic lake closes in and as the bubbles reach the edge of your legs, you come to your senses.

But it's too late.

The summer air is warm, but the spot of the lake where you're pulled into is warmer. Water floods your vision and you find yourself flailing, gripping as nothing as you are pulled down into an ombre of darker blues.

You can't see what's grabbed you, nor do you care. Why does it feel like a hand? That doesn't matter, you begin to kick with the hope of striking anything.

The murky water is quickly filling your lungs, and your ability to struggle is growing weak. A blackness eats at the edge of your vision, and dizziness begins to set in.

"Mira!" You try to scream, but it comes out in a slew of air bubbles that only floods your lungs quicker.

You give one more kick, stronger than the rest. You feel your heel connect with a mass. Suddenly, you're free. You slowly make your way to the surface, fighting the urge to pass out.

"Fuck," you gasp in a voice that sounds unlike your own. Coughing and sputtering, water spews from your body, and you grab onto the wooden base of the dock for support.

"What on earth was -," you stop when you hear the familiar rumble of hot water. The bubbles. They've come back, and they're racing towards you.

With no time or energy to pull yourself onto the dock, you wait - panting, for whatever the creature is to take you again.

Maybe it's for the best? You weren't exactly happy with your life before, and it's not like Mira would miss you at this point.

Just as you've resigned to becoming fish food, the creature begins to show itself. First, a black spot appears on the surface. Then, as it rises, you're frozen to the spot by icy white eyes with thick lashes of the same hue.

It's a woman. No? It's - what is she? Her eyes are huge and nearly human minus the color, but her skin is a milky blue. She's beautiful albeit definitely not human.

"Are those," your voice trembles, and you reach a shaky hand up towards her face.

The woman - thing, tilts her head. She doesn't move from your touch. Instead, you made contact with her skin. It's ice cold, and your suspicion was correct. She has gills.

Lost in a sea of thoughts, you hardly realize that you'd begun to stroke her skin.

"What -" her voice startles you back to the present. It is dreamy and quiet with a lilt that has you mesmerized.

"What are you?" She asks. Her eyes are wider than yours, but while you're staring at her face, she has taken a liking to staring at your chest.

The look on her face isn't at all displeased, and a heat trickles down your neck. As if on cue, her eyes snap to yours. She waits for you to respond.

"Oh, um. I'm a human. I'm a woman."

"Human? Woman?" Her head is still tilted, so you continue.

"Yeah. A human. I live up there," you point towards the land and her eyes follow. She blinks a few times before looking down into the water.

"And what are those?"

"What are what?" You look down to see what caught her attention, but instead of finding the source of her curiosity, you stir up your own.

A tail. She has a tail. Her human form ends at her bellybutton, and from there blooms a tail that glitters in sparks of white and lavender beneath the dark surface.

"Mermaid" you whisper under your breath.

Apparently, you did not answer the mermaid's question fast enough because you feel her looming over you before you see her.

Her chest comes into view, and you're forced to look up to meet her eyes once more. You bite your lip to avoid smiling at how gorgeous she is.

She chuckles, emitting a sound like tinkering bells and you feel a webbed palm on your thigh.

A panicked yelp slips from your lips before you register what happened.

"I apologize!" The mermaid responds.

"I did not know that your tails were so sensitive. I should have asked first."

Tails? She thinks you have tails? You look down at your legs, then back up at her. She's shrunken into herself, embarrassed at what she thinks may have hurt you.

"No. No no no," you begin to laugh.

"These are my legs," you swim around her in a small circle.

"They help me to swim, walk, and run. They're kind of important. I guess they are to me what your tail is to you."

You don't know why you've become so animated, but seeing the mermaid smile at your explanation has your heart picking up it's pace.

"By the way," you can't stop talking. You've tried, but the words keep flooding out.

"Why did the water bubble when you came? Also, why did you try to drown me?"

She blinks again, narrowing her eyes.

"Drown you? I - I thought you could swim like me? Are you not able to breathe water for long?"

"I can't breathe water at all. I have no gills. Human."

"Huh," she looks off to the side.

"Perhaps that is why those other humans did not last very long with me. I only wanted to study their two tails, but by the time I took them back to my shell cave, they did not want to talk to me."

Your stomach lurches again. She's the reason Lake Lost is called Lake Lost, and she has no idea what she's even done.

"So - So you only wanted to look at their legs? You drowned those people by accident?"

Recognition hits the mermaid like a wave. She spins around, scaled fingers over her mouth.

"I took their lives. Oh goodness, I drowned them!"

She did, and she should probably feel bad about it, but watching her tail flap in distress was not only upsetting you, but it was causing some bigger waves to form in the lake. You could swim, but you weren't sure if you could survive a tsunami.

You swim to her, placing a hand on her back.

"Warm," she turns to you, claimed.

"You are warm."

"Yes. I am. It's human blood. If I'm not warm, then I'll die."

She giggles at your factual explanation.

"You're very interesting. I still feel remorse for the humans that I hurt. I didn't mean to. I promise," she looks at you pleadingly.

"I know you didn't, and if it makes you feel better you can study my legs," the end of your sentence comes out as more of a question. You can't believe you just said that. What if she tries to rip your legs off?

Still, she's stunning. The moon is in its crescent phase, casting a dim shadow over the lake. Her dark hair has a faint light to it, and her white eyes look pearlescent. You could study her for hours, but her lack of shirt deters you as you don't want to make her uncomfortable.

She, on the other hand, has no problem with taking all of you in. Her claim is that she wants to study your legs, but every time you look away, her eyes flutter back to your chest, your lips.

Her hand twitches, and she claps both of them together in front of her.

"I would like that. Thank you," she smiles, and you shiver again at her teeth. They're razor sharp. She could kill you with one bite.

Not that she would. In fact, what happens next surprises you. Grabbing onto the dock, you begin to hoist yourself from the water without much success. Your hands are too wet to get a decent grip.

Sinking back into the water for the second time, you let out a frustrated huff.

Without warning, you feel a pair of icy cold hands gripping your hips, and a torso pressing itself to your back.

Staring into those white irises, she doesn't break your gaze and she lifts you onto the dock, setting you down gently.

You open your mouth to speak, but she beats you to it.

"You are welcome, human." A light blue creeps onto her neck and cheeks.

"What is it that fascinates you about legs? I know you don't have them, but they must look awfully funny to you from beneath the lake's surface."

"They do, but that is why I like them. They are something new. I have had this tail since I was young. It no longer interests me."

The mermaid takes pause, and her eyes scan you over again.

She continues, "Humans are different. Your anatomy is more complex. There are parts that do different things. I have heard many stories about your kind."

"Really? From who?"

"Fish that get set free, my sisters who used to watch humans from a distance. They say that if you make a human very happy, then something good happens. They called it "the cry".

Now it's your turn to be confused.

"Crying is usually not a good thing when humans do it. At least, in my experience. Though, I've not had many joyous occasions to cry over," you avoid her piecing eyes.

"No. It is not a sad cry. It is one that happens when you touch the spots between a human's legs."

She speaks in a voice that edges with excitement. You inch closer towards her at the edge of the dock until your legs brush her chest.

"Do you - are you saying that you want to do that? You want to have sex with a human?"

She laughs again, "Yes. I want to know everything about you. How your legs feel when I wrap them around my waist, how the -"

"What?"

"What would you like me to call your sensitive place, sweet human?"

"Well it's -" you snort out a laugh. You can't believe this is happening.

"Most people refer to it as a pussy, but you can use whatever word you see fit,"

"May I take a look at it?" she asks, moving forward to close any space between the two of you.

"And while I'm at it," she maneuvers your legs so that they rest on her hips, stroking them with her palms. You expected more scales, but her palms are completely smooth.

Leaning towards you until her nose nearly brushed yours, she whispers, "is this ok?"

You nod eagerly as words fail you again.

"Gosh, your legs are so cute. It's like they were made to hold people - or merpeople between them," she looks down, admiring the connection of your limbs and her body.

"Human."

"Hm?"

"I asked you earlier, but I think you were too distracted. May I see your pretty, sensitive areas?"

You think for a moment.

"Only if you promise that you'll greet them with a kiss."

Her eyes beam, a faint white glow added to their usual milkiness. A high pitched purr rumbles from somewhere within her throat, and she smiled, barring all of her teeth.

You lifted yourself enough that she could pull off your bottoms, but she protested the action.

"Human. I think you misunderstand my kindness. Please, do as I ask like an obedient creature."

Your ass hit the dock with a thump. Why on earth were you listening to her willingly? Is she using magic?

You didn't have to ponder because with a airy whisper of the word, "lift" you found yourself rising again for her to do exactly what you tried to help her with.

"Good girl," she mumbled.

And it was if your head no longer existed for the second she saw pussy, she was in a trance. She sunk into the water, leveling her gaze with your cunt. Her eyes reflecting no trace of what she saw, yet you could feel the wind rolling onto your clit.

You were wet, and she loved nothing more in the world than water.

"Pretty," she said breathlessly, still moving closer until her lips were centimeters from your clit.

"Is this it, sweet human?"

You knew she meant your clit. You could feel her cold breath chilling you from the outside, in.

"Yes, miss," you tested the nickname.

She made no sudden movement and to say, "What a polite pearl you are."

That must've been her last thought, too because after that you felt bliss. Short kisses were being peppered onto your folds.

She was working her way down to your entrance, teasing your hole with her double pointed tongue before she spread her affection to your inner thighs.

Your hand reached out, resting lighting in her damp hair, and emitted another of those high-pitched whines.

You gripped her harder.

"Do not get greedy, human," she teased, lifting one of your legs from the water to kiss her way down to your ankle.

"If it is me you want, then I will give it to you with time."

Her movements never ceased, and within seconds she was back between your legs, lapping at your folds.

Delighted hums left you in waves, and with a shaking voice, you mumbled, "Clit. Please, suck on my clit."

"Silence," she whispered, shutting you up in an instant.

She obeyed nonetheless. Her lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves while her tongue continued its journey. It was clear that she was being extra careful not to nip you with her teeth, but the tentative behavior only made you want more.

You began to pant, grinding your hips onto her face. Her eyes fluttered open unbeknownst to you, and while she continued to sail you towards an orgasm, one of her eyes bled into an inky blue.

Her efforts ceased, and your eyes opened immediately. It wasn't like you to outwardly pout, but the loss of contact had your lower lip trembling.

When you noticed her eyes, you felt like crying for an entirely different reason.

"Are you alright?" You said breathlessly.

She did not respond.

Her hands gripped your legs in a bruising fashion, and she yanked you into the lake once more.

Instead of drowning, you found yourself being held to her bare chest. She was looking down at you expectantly.

"I want to know what you're feeling, sweet pet."

Her tone was like molasses. Sticky and sultry. You were lost in her, and her gaze did not move from you.

Securing you in her arms, her tail found a home between your legs. As she positioned herself, a few of her scales glided across your cunt, and you moaned into her chest.

A breath was let out by her, and a strangled groan followed.

"Did you - did you feel that?" You searched her neverending pupils for signs of pleasure.

"A mermaid's tail is much more than a vice for swimming, pet. I can feel every contraction, every throb of your pretty pearl. I love it."

She closed her eyes, hugging you tightly while her tail moved back and forth against you. Every few seconds she would go farther out with her movements so that a stray scale would make contact with your clit.

It was as if you were grinding on her except she was holding you, suspended in the foggy lake.

"Miss, please. More. Need more," you begged.

Her tail moved faster. Meanwhile, her lips found yours, kissing you harshly as if to keep you quiet.

Your tongues found each other, swirling before she plunged hers into your mouth. You sucked on it eagerly, moaning into her mouth as your wetness coated her scaled.

Her heartbeat was increasing, and you were a mess.

"Pet, I am not going to last much longer. Use those pretty legs to move yourself on me. Let us finish together."

She loosened her arms. You used the opportunity to place your hands on her abdomen, grinding yourself faster against her.

"Such a good pet," is all you heard amongst the splashing of the water. The bubbles had returned, and steam rose into the air. You felt the nerves in your pussy throbbing, and you knew that she could feel it, too.

"Let it out, sweet human. Finish for me," she cooed into your ear.

Your legs trembled, and you nearly gave out onto her as your orgasm crashed onto you. Your hand groped her breast, and she placed a shaking palm over yours.

Her tail vibrated, and you heard faint a whimper and whines as she gasped for air. She had cum.

"Keep going. Keep moving. I am almost done," she begged, rocking you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of warmth and wet kisses, you both regained your breathing.

A tail and a set of legs stay intertwined in the sway of the waves, and she guided your hand up towards the moonlight.

The two of you stayed that way, enjoying the frog symphony and the crickets hum. Drifting to the center of the lake as you lay on her belly, watching as her webbed fingers toyed with yours.

"Thank you, sweet human," she said after a while.

You felt like you should be thanking her. After everything that's been happening to you, you finally felt real. You had been seen for the first time in a long time.

"If it is not too much to ask, may I see you again? I am sure there are many more parts of you that I could learn from."

You smiled to yourself.

"As long as I can learn from you as well. I'm sure you've got a ton of stories to tell."

She laughed. You were prepared to ask her about her family, but the familiar sound of tires on asphalt made you both freeze.

Mira and Noah. You had forgotten.

You felt your new companions heartbeat race. Turning to her, you took her cheeks in your hands.

"They're good people, but I understand why you might not want to be seen. I'll come back again tomorrow. This time, I'll bring you a gift."

"A gift?"

"Mhm. Something that you can keep or take to your sisters to show them,"

A few clicks sounded from her throat, and she pressed her forehead to yours.

"Fine, but take care of these legs, sweet human. I do like them very much."

She swam towards the dock with you on her back, shifting to set you on the wooden structure unharmed.

With a wink, she dove into the abyss of Lake Lost, and you heard Mira in the distance.

"Hey! Are you ready to go? Noah saw a park ranger coming this way."

Shit.

"Yeah! I'm coming," you glanced back at the lake, and a shimmer of lavender twinkled not so far away.

"Tomorrow" you thought to yourself.

You could look forward to tomorrow.

[kingofpopmj]

Can’t Go On Without You By My Side

Summary: You visit your boyfriend of two years on his BAD world tour. The excitement of witnessing him perform live is quickly tainted the moment she walks in.

Pairing: Michael Jackson x Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Requested: no

*Y/N's POV*

Michael and I were finally able to plan for me to visit him on tour. I was lucky enough to get a week and a half off of work and we were determined to make the most of it. Michael had insisted on picking me up from the airport even though he was technically supposed to be at the venue. We arrived about ten minutes after the show was scheduled to begin, but thankfully, no one called us out on it.

I stood off to the side, watching Michael completely own the stage. The way he mastered his onstage persona was breathtaking. His smile was so bright. I took a moment to discreetly admire his outfit, clinging to his body tighter with each passing song.

“He’s sexy, isn’t he?” A breathy voice sounded from beside me, interrupting my silent gawking. I guess I wasn't being as discreet as I thought.

“Um—” I looked to my left, making eye contact with a very tall woman. She was beautiful. A tight black dress clung to her body so tight it almost looked painted on. I know exactly who this is.

“The correct answer is yes. He can do it all, if you know what I mean.” My hands clenched into fists with such force I could feel my rings digging into my skin. “He’s absolutely the sexiest man alive. I’m so exhausted, he kept me up all night this past week. That's not a complaint by the way. He is so worth it.”

I couldn’t put together enough words to form a complete sentence. Quite frankly, all my focus was on holding myself back. I couldn’t catch a case right now. Michael might be cheating on me and this woman is certainly a whore. That was that. I couldn’t change fact. If I went off and beat the living shit out of some groupie it would ruin the rest of my life. I couldn’t let the anger control my behavior. He betrayed me, but I refuse to let him see how much it really broke me.

“I’m so sorry, I get all misty watching him. Don’t we all?” She laughed, squeezing my shoulder, little did she know she was dangerously close to losing those boney little fingers. “My name is Tatiana, and you are?” She held out her hand, batting her eyelashes so hard I thought she’d fly away. At least I hoped she would. Maybe over a large body of water, perhaps shark infested waters.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” She let out an exaggerated gasp, slapping her palm against her mouth.

“You’re the girlfriend! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.” She quickly ran off leaving me standing there alone with this feeling in my stomach that I couldn’t describe.

I glanced around the immediate area, seeing no one else near me felt worse somehow. I don't know many people here other than Michael. I became distracted as he sang Rock With You, little did he know he was moments away from getting rocked. Y/N, no, stop. I release the tension in my hands, shaking it off, trying to let go of the violent thoughts swirling in my mind. Besides how therapeutic it was right now, it wasn’t productive. I need some air, a drink, a hitman? No. Air, I need air.

The clicks of my heels echoed through the halls as I headed towards an unknown destination. I'm probably lost, but that’s a problem for future Y/N.

*Michael's POV*

As Rock With You came to an end, I noticed Y/N disappear behind the curtain. Exactly, two songs have gone by since then and still no sign of her. During the brief outfit change after Thriller, before intermission, I notice Greg, my music director mouthing something to me.

"What?" I mouthed back, scratching my forehead. He's terrible at this.

"Your girl." Okay, I got that. I nodded, shrugging slightly as if to say and what about her.

"Mad."

I couldn’t play charades any longer, as the lights dimmed and the band took over the stage I snuck behind the large equipment to get closer to him.

"What happened?"

"I saw Tatiana talking to her. She did not look too happy after that brother."

I nodded slowly, processing his words before walking off. I should be taking advantage of my break, but I couldn’t relax not knowing where my girlfriend was.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing all the way back here?”

"Nothing I just needed some air." She said lowly, avoiding my eyes.

"Are you okay?" I moved towards her, cupping her face in my hands. The look in her eyes answering my question, but I wanted to hear it from her.

"Yeah, well, no, but it can wait until after the show."

"Are you sure?" I asked and she nodded in response. "Now, can you please come back with me? I perform better knowing my beautiful woman is watching me."

She accompanied me as I changed into my next outfit. She helped me slip into my coat, but my excitement was short lived, because I could sense her sadness. What is going on?

"I love you, baby." I watched closely as she struggled with her response, she began biting on her bottom lip, her eyes growing glossy. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Her voice cracked and she quickly turned away from me.

"I know you Y/N. You're hurting and I'd like to know what's going on so I can help."

"S—She—" Y/N broke down right, her body was shivering as she tried to compose herself. I felt less than helpless.

"Who?" I tried comforting her, but she brushed me off, moving away from me all together.

A quick knock on the door, signaling that intermission was coming to a close and I needed to get back out there.

"I'll let them know I need more time. I'll be right back."

"No!"

"You're crying. Y/N, baby, I'm not leaving you."

"I'm alright. Please, can we just talk about this later?"

I didn't want to agree, but she wasn't asking, she was practically begging. I intertwined our fingers, keeping her close as I weaved my way through the backstage area.

"Please, stand here and watch the rest of the show. It would mean the world to me." I smiled at her and kissed her temple as I hugged her.

"I'll be right here." She reaffirmed my confidence. Then, she grabbed my collar, pulling me into her lips. Her tongue was pure magic. Normally, I'd be embarrassed about public affection, but with the way I'm feeling, I'd love to feel every inch of her right here, right now. I didn't care who was watching.

She pulled away and I desperately chased her lips as she giggled at my neediness.

"You have to go."

"There is no way I'm leaving your side after that."

"You don't have a choice."

"I will be back. Very, very soon."

*Y/N's POV*

I watched the second half of Michael's concert the way I should've watched the first half. I enjoyed myself dancing and singing along to my man's voice. What Tatiana said hurt me, but I felt so foolish when I thought logically again. Michael isn't that type of person. I didn't need to talk to him about this, because once the anger and hurt wore off I was able to come to a conclusion on my own. She's lying. She has to be.

"You're still here?" This damn witch. "I'd be halfway home by now if I found out my boyfriend stepped out on me."

There was so much I wanted to say, but I chose to let her words go in one ear and out the other. The last thing I want to do is let her know she ever got to me.

"Well, that's my cue. Enjoy the show." She winked, walking pass me and flipping her hair.

I was forced to watch as Tatiana strutted across the stage with my boyfriend chasing after her. This was one of my favorite songs and now I couldn’t even enjoy it. I felt my blood begin to boil as she shamelessly flirted with him in front of the crowd of thousands.

She was getting closer and closer to him. She was doing this on purpose and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Why is this song so long all of the sudden?

"What the hell is she doing?" I heard Frank DiLeo grumble from behind me. I jumped a bit at his tone, but tried to play it off.

"Everything okay?" I asked softy.

"Hey darling, yeah she was supposed— what the hell! Get her off the damn stage! Now!"

I turned my attention back to the stage and I wished more than anything I wouldn’t have done that. I tried to blink as if that would change the view, but it didn’t.

I was stuck in that horrible moment as the worst thing I could imagine was confirmed. I had a front row seat to my own humiliation and I had no idea how to escape.

Before I knew it, she was walking towards me. "So happy you could be here to see what a real power couple looks like." She stopped in front of me, crossing her arms. "Sorry honey, he's moved on to bigger and better things."

I felt my cheeks heat up as I became uncomfortably aware of how many eyes were on us.

"Tatiana, that's enough. Get away from her." Frank shouted, shooing her away like a toddler.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

We stood in silence as Man in the Mirror blasted through the speakers. It wasn't until Michael's long passionate goodbye to his fans, wrapping up the concert that Frank slung his arm around my shoulder.

"Darling, you know she's full of it right?"

"I'm not sure."

"Michael and I have to take care of some business. I won't keep him too long and I'll send him your way after."

I knew that was his way of telling me it was private business that I couldn’t be around for. I hugged him before heading off, I wasn't really sure where I was going, but walking felt better than sitting with my thoughts.

"Baby! I'm so sorry. Frank told me what happened after—"

“I need to get out of here before I do something I regret.” Michael reached out, taking a firm hold of my hand, he pulled me down a short hallway and into his dressing room.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He finally spoke, shutting the door behind him.

“You’re sorry I had to see it?”

“Yes.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Y/N—”

“Does that mean you do it often?”

“No, that’s not—”

“You go around kissing other people when I’m not around?”

“Y/N, I’ve never—”

“I know they’re everywhere, throwing themselves at you, but I never thought you let them get to you.”

“Stop!”

“What!”

“I’ve never cheated on you!” He shouted in a tone I had never heard before, the look of pain present in his eyes. Shit.

“That’s not what people are saying.” I muttered, suddenly I felt so guilty.

“People? What people?”

“Who do you think! She said you two—”

“That’s a lie! I only see her during performances. That’s it. Y/N, I would never do that to you.”

“How am I supposed to believe you after that? She kissed you and you let her.”

“No, no, no! I didn’t let her! I wasn’t even paying attention to her. When I’m on stage, I’m there to perform. Why would I spend weeks planning for your visit just to betray you?”

“She was so awful to me, the things she said, then, she went out there and—”

“Got herself fired.”

“Michael, I’m pissed, but I’ll get over it. I don’t want this to affect business. You don’t have to fire her.”

“I already did.”

“Michael—”

“I only want to work with people who respect me and my loved ones. She won’t be missed. I don’t care to have people around me that I can’t trust.”

“I’m sorry I yelled. I’m so sorry I accused you of—” Michael shut me up, gripping my hips, pressing my body against his and kissing me sloppily. His hand claiming a possessive hold of the back of my neck, deepening his touch.

"I love you." he spoke into my mouth, his hot breath sent shivers down my spine. I felt myself tremble as his fingers explored my inner thigh, pushing up my skirt to give himself more access.

"I love you." I said, slipping my fingers around his belt buckle. He smiled knowingly, pushing me back, my ass collided with the counter and I felt myself crumble at his roughness. The cold countertop causing me to let out a moan. He pulled away for a moment, reaching behind me and clearing off the counter in one swift movement. "Such a gentleman." I purred in his ear as he picked me up.

"Only for you." A smirk on his face as the sound of nylon tearing filled my ears. "I love how sexy these look on you. I'll have to replace them." His long fingers slipping pass the freshly shredded fabric of my panties and teasing me one finger at a time. He watched as my head leaned back onto the mirrored wall, he chuckled as I struggled to find something to grab onto.

"Michael!" I was fighting to breath feeling him knuckle deep inside of me, hitting the right spot. "Fuck! Deeper!" I begged for more. Contrary to my needy cries, he pulled back, leaving me feeling empty as he unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall to the ground. I took this opportunity to tear his shirt off, throwing it across the room.

Michael pushed my legs apart, admiring how much I yearned for him, he slowly pulled me towards him with a strong grip on my legs. My bare ass slide across the counter painfully slow until I finally felt his hard tip press against my entrance.

"Always so wet and ready for me." He slammed into me, giving me no time to adjust which threw me further over the edge.

"Harder!" I yelled as he pounded into me with such intensity I swear I could feel him rearranging my guts.

"Baby, I want to cum inside of you." His voice smooth, making me even more wet.

"Please!" The walls were shaking as we continued to devour one another.

"You're fucking perfect." He whispered against the bare skin of my chest, I felt him everywhere. My eyes rolled back as his dick massaged all the right places.

Suddenly, the door swung open violently, causing me to panic and try to cover my exposed chest, but Michael stopped me. He grabbed my wrists trapping them behind my back in on of his hands as he increased his speed again. My moans escaped my throat against my will as tears of pleasure rolled down my cheeks. At this point, my entire body was shaking, Michael's tongue rolling against mine elongating my high further.

"What the fuck are you doing!" A voice shouted, causing my head to snap in the direction of its origin. Tatiana.

"You feel so good wrapped around my dick." He declared as he sucked on my neck. It was impossible to concentrate on anything else but his lips. "I'll never get tired of fucking this perfect pussy." Michael didn’t stop. He spoke clearly and confidently as he fucked me with purpose.

"Get the fuck out of here!" Tatiana yelled.

"Y/N!" Michael whimpered, his seed spreading within me, causing my legs to tingle. He gazed deep into my eyes, beads of sweat trailing down his face. "I fucking love you." His hand gently curled around the side of my neck, pulling me back into his sweet mouth.

"What the fuck!" Another shout from the demon herself. I paid it no mind. Looking back at Michael, his long dick still twitching inside of me.

"I love you baby." I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck, leaning into his neck to leave my mark. Tatiana stood there staring at us in shock, so naturally I challenged her stare. I waited to see if Michael would break focus, but he didn’t.

“We are busy in here. Close the door on your way out.” Michael said sternly between breaths, not even sparing her a glance.

The door slammed shut seconds later and it was only then that I took the time to look around the dimly lit room. Make-up and personal belongings littered the floor. Various unfamiliar items surrounded us, leading me to believe that I was made apart of one very well thought out, very devious plan and it turned me on.

"Michael?"

"Yes, my love?"

“This isn’t your dressing room, is it?”

“Nope.” He smiled triumphantly, planting tender kisses all over my face.

“You’re so sneaky.”

“You’re my girl. That’s never changing.”

“You quite literally marked your territory.” I giggled as he caressed my collarbone, watching as goosebumps formed.

“Oh, Y/N, baby, I’m just getting started. We’re gonna be here all night.”

“Let’s see what you got rockstar.”

“Baby, don’t make me carry you out on that stage and give those lovely people an encore they’ll never forget.”

“A girl can dream can’t she?”

I winked teasingly as I positioned myself onto my knees, looking up at the man I love, confident I was about to give him the best head of his life.

[katiemccabeswife]

It's Not Your Fault.

Matildas x Fem!Reader

After losing against England in the semis, not only do you feel guilty but people are blaming you.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Vomiting, crying, threats (breifly mentioned), death (very breifly mentioned), self depricating thoughts, sad reader :(

You were one of the youngest players on the team, technically speaking you were the youngest being a few months younger than Mary. Despite your age, and compared to the other girls -your lack of experience, you were still a part of the starting lineup for the semi-finals against England.

You had played in all of the other games, if only for a few minutes at the end of a game, including the game against France. You participated in the penalty shoot-out and managed to get the ball past the keeper which brought you and your team to this point.

You were more nervous than excited but you wouldn’t admit that to any of the girls. The Matilda’s had made history for Australia and women’s soccer and that’s exactly what the girls would tell you for you expressed your worries about the game. They’d tell you that they along with the rest of Australia would have your back and no matter the outcome, everything would be ok. You didn’t want to listen to the girls lie to you, so you said that you were fine and excited.

It didn’t help that some of the girls apart of the Lionesses squad were your teammates from Arsenal. You were still kind of new to the club and were still building relationships with the girls and you didn’t want tension between the group if your team beat theirs or vice versa. Steph and Caitlin would be in the same position as you but they were already well settled into the team and you doubted a loss could ruin the relationships already built.

To sum it up you were shitting bricks and your stomach hurt from stress and worry. You smiled and chatted to the little girl you walked out with, sang the national anthem and smiled for the team picture but once the camera went down and you were in place, ready to start the game, you almost started crying and throwing up.

~

You didn't get any goals. Sam got one, but so did Ella. And Lauren. And so did Alessia.

You did however have almost the perfect shot but your anxiousness washed over you like a hot shower and you passed it off to Mary who missed. You know you should have taken it, everyone does. No one would blame Mary for missing but they would blame you for not taking the shot. Whilst the goal may not have made you win, it could have boosted morale and encouraged one of the others to get another goal that could have won it for Australia.

You passed the ball to Mary but you didn’t run towards an open space to give her options, you stood there with a blank face before bending over and clutching onto your stomach. You heard a few people boo when you chipped the ball and you knew they were booing you. You were booing you as well.

You walked up to Mary and pat her on the back, “I’m so sorry Mary, I should have taken the shot. I’m sorry, I panicked.” Your eyes had filled with tears and your free hand was still clutching your stomach.

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it,” Mary smiled at you in reassurance but you knew she was upset.

“I’m sorry,” You nodded to her before running back to position.

You lost the game for Australia and you felt worse than when you started. You barely held on when the final whistle sounded. You say yourself onto the floor before rolling onto your stomach and crying into your arms, trying to block out the lionesses celebrating. You tried to keep your shoulders still as you sobbed and held your breath when someone came and tapped you on the back or whispered to you that you played well.

You slowed your tears as you did the walk around and again when you and the whole team stood in a heart shape and listened to what Tony had to say, but you didn’t stop them when you walked through the tunnel. You didn’t say ‘Hi’ to any fans nor signed anything, you were sure no one would want to even look at you.

You walked right into the bathrooms and threw up everything you had in your stomach. You were dry-heaving when you felt someone rubbing your back. You leaned your forehead onto your arm and sobbed. The hand stayed there.

You weren’t sure whose hand it was as you stayed in the bathroom cubicle until Sam came and helped you stand before wrapping you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry, Sammy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” You repeated over and over as new tears began to fall.

"It’s ok, chick. It’s ok,” She reassured with tears in her own eyes.

“Everyone’s gotta hate me, I lost the game for us. I’m so sorry Sammy,” You sobbed loudly.

She pulled you away for the crook of her neck and held onto the sides of your face, “Chick, this is a team sport. You didn’t lose the game, we lost the game. It’s not your fault, no one hates you,”

“Maybe you guys don’t but everyone else will,”

“Well they can go fuck themselves, I’d like to see them play professional football,” You laughed lightly through sobs, “C’mon let’s get goin',” She kissed you on the forehead and guided you towards the bus.

~

Sam was right, but so were you. The girls didn't hate you or blame you, that you knew of, but the rest of Australia did. You were messaged horrible things, threats, death wishes and they were also commented on all of your socials even going back to your earliest posts.

Hayley caught you scrolling through the gate messages, turned off your comments and blocked everyone that DMed you. You were rooming with her so she heard you crying under your duvet and in the shower and tried to cheer you up.

You were grateful for her efforts but if anything, it made you feel more guilty. Yes, not only were you mourning the loss but also fighting against the immense hate you were getting but Hayley was also mourning the loss and you felt guilty that she was trying to take care of you when she should have been taking care of herself.

You ended up spending a lot of time in bed over the next few days, opting out of team bonding time, either sleeping or crying. When it came to training, as you had the match for 3rd place coming up, you were pushing yourself to a new limit and staying afterwards to continue practising.

After dinner with the girls, Hayley came into your room and sat you up against the headrest before turning the TV on. After flicking through a few channels, a familiar face popped onto the screen.

"The good thing about playing a team sport," Sam's voice filled the room, "Is that it's never one person's fault, or it's never one person that made the team win. And I think that without Y/N the whole team, I mean Tony will probably tell you, that our whole team plan changes. She's such a...an amazing player, and being so young she holds so much potential"

You had tears in your eyes as you continued watching the news. Chloe Logarzo also spoke on the matter which made your heart warm as you had never even spoken to the girl and she was defending your honour. Hayley let the news continue playing as she pulled out her phone and wrapped her arm around you.

She pulled up Instagram and clicked on various stories. All of your fellow Australians had posted pictures of you and them saying how proud they were of you, Ellie's kindly saying, "My superstar, leave her alone <3". Some of the girls from Arsenal even posted similar things that Hayley showed you before going into her camera roll and showing you pictures of fans with signs for you, those who also posted for you and those who had DMed you expressing gratitude for you and congratulating you.

You were crying again, but tears of happiness. Hayley hugged you before bringing you down to the girls who hugged you 'til you were scared their arms would fall off.