#but she still claims to like me and invites me to things and texts me all the time

[elliespassagerprincess]

can we please have a pt2 for bbf!ellie?😭

headcannons: brothers best friend!ellie williams x reader

masterlist

part 1

☆ Ellie’s confession wasn’t a soft one. It was raw. Blurted out late one night when it was just the two of you on the porch, sitting too close. Her voice trembled but her eyes never left yours.

☆ “I like you,” she said, almost angry about it, like it was your fault. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

☆ You froze. Not because you didn’t like her back—but because you did, and that scared the hell out of you.

☆ The next day, you avoided her. No text replies, no opening the door when she knocked, no hanging around when your brother invited her over.

☆ Ellie noticed instantly. Her texts got more frequent. Shorter. More frantic. “Did I fuck up?” “Please talk to me.”

☆ When you left a group hang early, she stared after you the whole time. She didn’t even say goodbye.

☆ Ellie didn’t sleep much that first week. She laid awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering how she misread things.

☆ She started watching your house. Just sitting in her truck a few houses down at night. Waiting to see your light go off.

☆ She played songs she knew you liked in your brother's room, loud enough for you to hear through the shared wall. Hoping you’d listen. Hoping you’d knock.

☆ You didn’t. It made her worse.

☆ She started keeping things you left behind—a hoodie, a pen, a lip balm—and holding them like they were sacred.

☆ Ellie got moodier. Snappier with your brother. She barely made eye contact with him, but she was always asking where you were.

☆ You caught her looking at you from the edge of the hallway once. Her eyes were glassy. She didn’t speak.

☆ Her drawings? All turned into versions of you. Your hands, your mouth, your hair, the sad curve of your shoulder.

☆ She stopped hiding it. Started wearing her obsession like a badge, because if she couldn't have you—she needed to remember every inch of you.

☆ Ellie started showing up everywhere you went. Coincidence at first—until it wasn’t.

☆ Grocery store? She was there by the lemons, asking if you still liked green apples.

☆ Coffee shop? She was sitting at the back, watching you sip your drink, fingers tight on her cup.

☆ She wouldn’t talk to you directly. Just… look. Let the air buzz.

☆ Your friends noticed. One asked, “Is she stalking you?” You didn’t answer. You weren’t sure.

☆ Ellie started writing about you in her journal—paragraphs of frustration, lust, guilt, rage, and helpless longing.

☆ She imagined what your skin would taste like if you’d let her kiss you.

☆ She imagined saying your name and hearing you moan hers back.

☆ Every sketch was darker, more desperate. You with tear tracks, with your lip between your teeth, with bruises she imagined leaving.

☆ Her mind spiraled. She thought maybe you were rejecting her on purpose. Punishing her.

☆ She started dreaming about you. Wake-up-sweating, breathing-hard dreams.

☆ When your brother invited her over again, Ellie scanned the room like a wolf. You weren’t there. Again.

☆ “She’s been busy,” your brother offered casually. Ellie didn’t respond. Her jaw clenched.

☆ The silence became unbearable. You missed her. Wanted her. But you couldn’t act on it—not with your brother. Not with the mess.

☆ But Ellie was done waiting.

☆ She showed up at your place with a book she claimed you left behind. You didn’t. She just needed an excuse.

☆ You opened the door an inch. Tried to keep it cold. But your eyes gave you away. You still wanted her.

☆ Ellie stared at your lips the entire conversation. All two minutes of it.

☆ When you shut the door, she stood there for five more minutes. Breathing. Shaking.

☆ That was the night she made a decision: she’d make you tell her the truth—even if she had to corner you for it.

☆ You were coming back from class when you felt it—that prickle on your neck. The instinct. Someone watching.

☆ You turned and there she was. Hoodie, jaw set, standing at the mouth of the hallway.

☆ You tried to walk past her. She stepped in front of you.

☆ “Why are you avoiding me?” she asked, voice low, clipped.

☆ “Ellie, please—” you said, but your voice cracked.

☆ She moved closer. “No. You don’t get to run anymore.”

☆ You backed up, heart pounding, until your spine hit the cold concrete wall. Nowhere to go.

☆ “Did I scare you?” she whispered. “Is that it?”

☆ “No,” you whispered. “You didn’t.”

☆ Her hands hit the wall on either side of your head. Trapped. Her face inches from yours.

☆ “Then what?” Her voice broke. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”

☆ Her eyes were red-rimmed. Wild. “I tell you I’m in love with you and you disappear?”

☆ “Ellie, I’m scared,” you admitted. “You’re my brother’s best friend. If something happens, it’ll ruin everything.”

☆ “Something already happened,” she growled. “You ruined me the second you stopped talking to me.”

☆ Your breath hitched. Her lips brushed your cheek. “I dream about you,” she whispered. “Every fucking night.”

☆ “Ellie…” Your voice was soft, needy.

☆ She tilted your chin up. “Say you don’t want me. Say it and I’ll leave you alone.”

☆ You couldn’t. You didn’t. Your mouth parted—but no words came.

☆ And then—her lips crashed into yours.

☆ It was messy, all teeth and tongue and heat. Weeks of tension unraveling in one kiss that felt like it might end the world.

☆ Your hands gripped her hoodie like a lifeline, pulling her tighter, closer, until you couldn’t breathe.

☆ She kissed like she hated you for making her wait. Like she needed to memorize you.

☆ You whimpered into her mouth and she swore she almost lost it. Her hands fisted in your shirt.

☆ Her leg slipped between yours. She swallowed every sound you made.

☆ When she finally pulled back, you both were panting. Her forehead pressed to yours.

☆ “Fuck,” she breathed. “I’ve wanted to do that since I was seventeen.”

☆ “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

☆ “You don’t have to,” she said. “Just don’t run. Please.”

☆ Her fingers traced your jaw. “I meant what I said. I like you. I’m not walking away.”

☆ “Even if my brother finds out?”

☆ “Let him,” she said, voice thick. “I’ll fight him if I have to.”

☆ You laughed softly, and Ellie smiled like she hadn’t in weeks.

☆ “So… what now?” you asked, breathless.

☆ She swallowed, eyes dark, voice hoarse: “Go out with me. Tonight. Tomorrow. Every day after that. Be mine.”

☆ You kissed her again. And this time, it wasn’t desperate—it was a yes.

[doecrossing]

Bad day : (

[eicsferrari]

never met - op81 smau

summary: people start making up rumors about oscar and yn. problem is they never actually met

face claim: random girls from pinterest

a/n: this is chaos but it was fun to write hope you like it

masterlist

જ ♡ જ

gossipf1 singer yn and oscar piastri are reported to be dating according to inside sources

view all comments

user5 please let this be true

lando rue, when did this happen?

user14 helppp what is lando doing here

user3 my two worlds colliding

user7 she's not good enough for him

user8 ?? he's not good enough for her

yn inside sources who??? i never saw this man in my life😭😭

user10 he's a formula 1 driver

yn oh i only know lewis hamilton aka the goat aka the loml

user10 fair

yn he looks cute tho👀

sabrinacarpenter no yn!

yn 😊😊

જ ♡ જ

yn posted a story

caption: this is the man yall think i pulled? Damn thank u

replies

↪sabrinacarpenter you are insane😭

↪lando +61 12345678 text him

જ ♡ જ

yn jazzy nights are my favorite

♡liked by sabrinacarpenter, oscarpiastri and others

view all comments

user6 best night of my life

sabrinacarpenter i'm in love with you😍

yn me when i see you

user1 oscar liked...

user4 don't start

user1 i just stated a fact

user9 obsessed with your voice, i want you to sing me to sleep every night

જ ♡ જ

gossipf1 yn and oscar spotted hanging out after her concert

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user8 i fear this couple would be too iconic

user4 just... no

user5 i dont know this man my ass

yn in my defense i really haven't met him then!

lando it's true i can confirm

lando i can also confirm yn was oscar's most listened artist last year

oscarpiastri why are you here?

lando gossip is my bat signal

જ ♡ જ

yn trip made it out of the groupchat

view all comments

lando groupchat and it's only two people

yn get off my comments

lando i got you his number and this is how you repay me?

user9 lando tell us who it is🙏🏼

user3 if lando set them up it has to be oscar

user7 i'm in love with her aesthetic

user5 white shirt=oscar

user14 stop we don't know

sabrinacarpenter did my invite get lost in the mail?🤨

yn babe i'm sorry he means nothing you are the love of my life

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri posted a story

caption good company yn

replies

↪user4 gossipf1 ended up setting you two up huh

↪sabrinacarpenter i remember when i was the one taking her pictures...💔

જ ♡ જ

yn sorry osc i go where lewis goes🏎️

view all comments

oscarpiastri 😐

user4 osc🥺🥺

scuderiaferrari everyone is a ferrari fan ♡liked by author

francocolapinto hamilton fan first, a girlfriend second. i respect that

user5 did he just confirm that they are girlfriend and boyfriend?

mclaren 💔

yn sorry😔

charles_leclerc i approve son oscarpiastri

yn forza ferrari!

user26 we lost her to a sports guy...

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri posted a story

caption prettiest girl is in fact my girlfriend

replies

↪yn giggling blushing throwing up kicking my feet🥺🫶🏼

જ ♡ જ

yn posted a story

caption he's still mad i did not wear orange

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↪lando it's papaya not orange😡

yn same fucking thing

lando it's not !!

yn ok but the word papaya is so ugly

lando YOU TAKE THAT BACK

જ ♡ જ

yn the rumors are now true, i'm his favorite artist and he's my (second) favorite driver

view all comments

user18 she's gorgeous😍 he's just there😐

francocolapinto yes yes you might kiss but did he ever say he wanted to learn your language just to understand your jokes? i don't think so

yn call me when you are his top artist on spotify loser

user12 don't mind me i'm just patiently waiting for the love songs this will inspire

oscarpiastri you are never going to let me live this down, right?

yn you are stuck with me and my bad jokes sorry bro

sabrinacarpenter just remember she was mine first papaya boy

oscarpiastri noted🫡

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri she finally wore papaya

view all comments

user2 she's so hot🥵

yn not that word again😭

lando i will block you if you keep hating on the papaya

yn do it i dare you

yn i look so good tho

oscarpiastri you always look amazing

yn i love me a boy who can sweet talk

lando god stop being cheesy on main🤢

yn weren't you going to block me??

lando i should have

yn just do it you coward

user23 yes yn put the car guy in his place!

lando why are you supporting her when your page is dedicated to me??? are you a fan or a hater?

user23 i'm your biggest fan! but i support women's rights and women's wrongs so i'm with yn

yn HA even your fans like me better😛

lando you stole my teammate and now my fans what else do you want from me😭😭

જ ♡ જ

lando posted a story

caption disgusting

replies

↪yn disgustingly cute yes

lando whatever helps you sleep at night

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri posted a story

caption dont let their online banter fool you, they are friends

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↪yn babe don't expose us like that😔

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri 🧡

view all comments

yn DELETE what if lewis sees this?

user21 she's so real

lewishamilton i feel betrayed

yn nooo💔😔 you will always be n1 in my heart

oscarpiastri 😐

yn deal with it

yn i am so incredibly proud of you and i love supporting you🥺🧡

oscarpiastri thank you for being here<3

જ ♡ જ

yn posted a story

caption i'm going to tell my kids this is their dad

જ ♡ જ

yn posted a story

caption just kidding, i love you oscar

replies

↪ oscarpiastri i love you more❤️

[beloveds-embrace]

AND ALSO POLY!141

joking around and calling them your brothers and they go deathly silent because what do you mean tou don’t see them romantically? doesn’t matter if they’re already involved with each other they want you to be just as involved too.

also this is toxic but threatening your various dates, stalking them and taking them out (not in the romantic way) so they have an excuse to hold you close. you get comforted, and they get to embrace your warmth #win-win

Friendzoned? Nah, it’s bro-zoned now 😭

The one good thing about grueling and long missions- were the post-missions.

Without fail, each time, you’d be invited to their house where Price would grill up something delicious and juicy on the barbecue, and everyone would be able to unwind. You enjoyed that time, spending it and relaxing with them.

The dynamic you all shared was easy, comfortable, and fun- at least for you.

You rolled your eyes and tossed a fry at Johnny, who caught it in his mouth with a proud grin and wagged his eyebrows, daring you to try again. “You’re like an annoying big brother, you know that?” you huffed at last, a matching grin on your face.

Johnny froze mid-chew, but you didn’t notice, too busy thinking. “Actually… all of you are like annoying big brothers, now that I think about it.”

You chuckles at your own thought, grabbing another fry from your plate and popping it into your mouth without once realizing the shift in the atmosphere. You didn’t catch the way Soap’s grin had vanished completely or how Price’s hand tightened around the armrest of his chair. Gaz’s usual easy smile was gone, replaced with a cold, unreadable expression, and Ghost… well, Ghost’s dark stare had become a touch more menacing.

The silence hung heavy, but you were blissfully unaware, waving your hand dismissively when no one responded. Your focus was on your phone, scrolling through your social medias. “What? You all went quiet on me.”

Soap cleared his throat, but it came out strained, his voice low. “Brother, huh?”

You hummed absently. “Yeah, you know- family. You guys are my family. Like brothers, watching each other’s backs and all that.”

Price exhaled slowly, sitting back in his chair and running a hand over his beard. “Family.” He repeated, almost under his breath, his voice calm but tight.

Gaz tapped his fingers against the table once, then twice, before stopping abruptly. “Is that all we are to you?” he asked casually enough, though his tone carried an edge you didn’t catch.

“Of course,” you replied with a shrug, not bothering to look up from your food and phone. “I mean, it’d be weird to think of you any other way. You’re my team, my brothers-in-arms.”

You missed the way Ghost’s hands curled into fists on the table, his knuckles white, or the way Soap’s jaw clenched, demeanor replaced with something far darker. Price exchanged a look with Gaz, silent communication passing between them while you obliviously chewed on your steak, still oblivious to the storm brewing around you.

If you’d glanced up, even for a second, you might’ve noticed the way their gazes lingered on you- too intense, too sharp. But you didn’t. And they weren’t about to correct you.

Not yet, anyways.

The first time it happened, you didn’t connect the dots.

Your date, some charming guy you met at a café off base, canceled on you last minute, claiming he “didn’t feel safe” after someone left a threatening note on his car windshield. You shrugged it off as a weird coincidence- maybe it was the universe looking out for you, even. You didn’t want to be dragged into whatever that guy was stuck in.

The second time, a woman from the gym you’d been chatting with stopped replying to your texts entirely after she mentioned being followed home one night. You’d honestly tried to call and check on her, but she just… blocked you. Weird.

By the third time, when a guy you’d met on a dating app ghosted you entirely after his apartment was mysteriously broken into, you started to suspect something was up.

You mentioned it offhandedly to the team one evening, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t know what’s going on, but every time I try to date someone, something weird happens. It’s like the universe doesn’t want me to find someone!”

Soap hummed, a little too casually, but you simply discarded that thought. “Maybe the universe knows what’s best for you, bonnie.”

Gaz leaned back in his chair, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Or maybe these people weren’t good enough for you anyway.”

“You’ve got us to look after you. Don’t need anyone else mucking things up.” Even Price added in his own two cents, making you pause.

You laughed, thinking they were joking, but Ghost’s silence was unsettling- actually, none of them were laughing. He just stared at you, his eyes glinting in a way that made your stomach twist. But that was normal for your L.T… even if it’s been quite a long while since he’s made you feel like that.

The fourth time, it wasn’t just a weird incident. It was a full-on assault.

You were on another date- though even you had to admit this one was just… not going well. He was too dismissive, too loud, and the first thing he’d said before you even sat down was that you’d split the bill, and then he made a comment about you eating too much.

You’d sent a simple text to the team groupchat, telling them you really weren’t enjoying this one, and they’d left you on read. Bastards.

But then you date had been walking you to your car when someone stepped out of the shadows- a big, familiar hulking figure in a balaclava. Your date didn’t even have time to react before they were on the ground, unconscious.

“Come on,” Simon said, gently but firmly clasping his hand around yours. You were too shocked to even say anything- what the fuck? “Let’s get you home.”

You didn’t argue. Your heart was pounding too hard, and Simon took advantage of that to guide you to his car.

“Simon-“

“No.”

And thus the silence continued.

When you got back to their house, the others were waiting for you. Price immediately pulled you into a hug before you could demand answers, his hands firm but gentle on your lower back. “You’re safe now.” He murmured, as if soothing an angry kitten lashing out at him from fear. Despite your confusion and the flurry of emotions swirling in your chest, the tension in your body began to melt anyways, always so trusting of your Captain.

Gaz’s hand brushed against yours as he handed you a steaming cup of tea immediately once Price let go of you. His smile was kind, but his eyes seemed… off. Too sharp. “Drink this, yeah? It’ll help.” He said, his fingers lingering a second too long before retreating.

Before you could question the strange atmosphere, Soap tugged you down to sit beside him on the couch. His arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you close as though you were on the verge of breaking. “You’ll be alright,” he murmured, tone light yet firm. “We’ve got you.”

Simon remained silent, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed. His presence loomed heavy in the room, his gaze never straying from you. It wasn’t comforting exactly- more like being caught in the sights of a predator lying in wait. Is this what the enemy soldiers thought and felt? You pitied them- but more than that you pitied yourself.

Your hands tightened around the warm mug, your confusion bubbling up like a shaken-up fizzy drink. “Okay, what the hell is going on?” You glanced between them, searching for answers. “Simon knocked out my date! What if he presses charges? And what’s with all this- this hovering?”

“Hovering?” Soap echoed, his arm tightening ever so slightly. “We’re making sure you’re alright, bonnie. That’s all. You said your date wasn’t good, no?”

Price leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke calmly, like he was explaining something obvious to a stubborn recruit. “That man wasn’t worth your time. None of your dates have been. They can’t protect you- not the way we can.”

“What are you even talking about?” you demanded, finally pulling away from Soap’s hold. Yet the feeling of being a bleeding sheep surrounded by wolves didn’t abate. “You’ve been acting so weird lately- ever since I mentioned dating. If there’s something you’re not telling me, just spit it out!”

Gaz sighed, his tone carrying a note of exasperation as he leaned against the couch. “We’re trying to keep you safe, love. Every time you step out with someone, you’re putting yourself at risk. You don’t know these people like we do.”

Your stomach churned. “What do you mean-?”

Gaz chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it, and you did not laugh. “Do you think we’d let you go out with someone without knowing everything about them first? Their names, their jobs, their pasts…” His voice dropped, a edge bleeding into his words. “How to get rid of them.”

Your blood ran cold, and you stared between them. They were dead serious, you realized. “That’s… You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.”

No one answered.

Simon pushed off the wall, his massive frame closing the distance between you in just a few steps. He crouched down in front of you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. You were essentially boxed in from all sides. “We’re not joking. You don’t need anyone else. You’ve got us.”

“…This isn’t normal.” You whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to process what you were hearing. “This- I don’t-“

“It is normal,” Price’s voice was steady and calm, eyes dark. “For us. For the people who care about you most.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as the implications of their words sank in. They weren’t just being overprotective or overbearing. They were sabotaging your dates, controlling who could get close to you, and now- God, had they hurt people? How many had they hurt? All those people- you-

Your hands trembled, though you braved on even if bravery was the last thing you felt. “You can’t just decide this for me. I’m not some possession you can keep to yourselves.”

“We’re not keeping you from anything you need,” Gaz spoke so softly, you could trick yourself into believing he was saying you could leave and this was all just a mean prank. “We’re protecting you from what you don’t.”

“You should be thanking us,” Proce sighed, pulling out a cigar to smoke. Yet his eyes did not leave you even once, not even for a single second. “We’re the reason you’ve been safe so far.”

Simon’s gloved hands rested on your knees, pinning you down to the couch. “We’ll take care of you,” he said, his voice low and almost soothing. “Always.”

You wanted to argue, to push them away, but the realization- the full weight of what they had done hit you like a freight train. You stood abruptly, pushing past Simon and cutting through the tense silence in the room. Their eyes followed your every move, like predators watching prey.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” you stammered, stepping back toward the door. “This isn’t normal. None of this is normal. You can’t just- control my life like this!”

“Sit down, love.” Price said, his voice calm, but the edge in it was unmistakable.

“No, no,” you shot back, shaking your head as you took another step toward the door. “I’m leaving. I need some space. This- this is insane.”

Gaz rose from his chair, moving to block your path to the exit. His expression was so deceptively soft, but his stance was firm, unyielding. “You’re not thinking clearly, love.” He said, low. “Just sit down. We’ll talk it through.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you snapped, your voice rising with panic. “You’ve been stalking me- sabotaging my life! That’s not protection. That’s obsession!”

Soap stood then, and his expression made you flinch. He stepped closer, effectively boxing you in again as he joined Gaz. “We’re not letting you walk out that door.” He said simply, but his words were anything but.

You turned toward the only other way out, but Simon was already there, his massive frame looming in the doorway to the hall. He didn’t say a word, just stared, his presence alone enough to make your stomach twist.

Your breathing quickened as you turned back to Price, the only one still seated, though his gaze was sharp and calculating. “You can’t keep me here, Price,” you said, your voice trembling but still clinging to the traces of defiance. “You don’t have the right-“

“We do have the right,” Price interrupted, standing slowly. The sheer authority- the sheer finality in his voice made your knees weak. “Because we’re the only ones who care about you the way we do. The only ones who’ll keep you safe. Your team, remember, darling?”

“This isn’t safety,” you hissed, backing toward the wall. “This is prison.”

Price mouthed the word, then huffed a humorless laugh. “We’re not locking you up. But we will stop you from running into danger. Even if you don’t understand it now, you’ll thank us later.”

“You can’t just-“

“Enough,” Simon cut in, sharp and blunt, his voice cutting through your protests like a knife. “You’re not leaving. Not now. Not ever.”

Your back hit the wall, your escape routes blocked on all sides. Your chest heaved as you looked at each of them, searching for even a sliver of remorse. But all you saw was determination, faces set in stone…

Much like your fate.

[mwahbabe]

on my knees begging for dealer! ellie! 💋

being your dealers favourite <3

pairing: ellie williams x fem reader

mdni, smut, car sex, fingering(r!recieving, drug use(e!&r!), squirting, fluff, fwb to something.

a/n: aaahhh i’m sorry this took forever omg not very demure not very mindful at all but boy oh boy do i love me some dealer ellie 🫦

ellie is not the type to give handouts or “hook people up” she’s hard up for money and if you don’t have it, there’s the door. no exceptions. period.

except…. she is. for you anyway. she can’t even remember how much you owe her now. always giving in to your excuses. falling for your stupid puppy dog eyes and that pout you gave her.

“ellss can i come over?” ┃

els🔌┃“you still owe you know.”

“pleaseeee? i’m broke and having a hard week :(“┃

els🔌┃“when are you not having a hard week ?”

“how do you think I feel??.” ┃

els🔌┃“i’m home. don’t keep me waiting.”

she had tried to be strong. she really had. but when she first saw you she became all awkward and nervous seeing a pretty girl show up at her asking for weed. the more you came over the sweeter she became on you. letting you share her blunt and not asking for money, to meeting you wherever to give you what you asked for.

it was annoying how everytime she saw your notification pop up on her phone she answered straight away, even if she knew you had no money to give her, how when she knew you were coming she would straighten out her dirty apartment and try to make it somewhat clean and when meeting you somewhere would try and make herself a bit more presentable and clean the trash out of her car. not that you minded in the slightest. her gaze always wandering to your exposed cleavage or your exposed thighs in those little shorts while you were yapping about whatever while stoned on her couch.

she would always tell herself, no more. she has to pay this time. and always end up giving it to you every. single. time. and then one night you had hooked up. you were at hers getting your usual handout and spending a little more time with her because you actually enjoyed her company. she enjoyed yours too, you were actually fun to be around and good company. you stayed over at hers, ellie let you sleep in her bed, must have been the weed or how you looked that night because ellie ended up knuckles deep in you whispering praise in your ear as her thumb rubbed your clit. “yeah.. that’s it baby… there ya go.. cum on my fingers baby.” you two never brought it up again, only brushing it off as a casual thing and you two were inebriated so it didn’t mean anything. not like ellie didn’t think about it every night and touch her clit and finger fuck herself thinking about your moans and taste. she tried so hard to be firm on you but she just couldn’t. not after that.

also that one night you texted her at 3am.

“elss? are you holding?i’m on my period and i’m broke and in pain i just wanna get high:(”┃

els🔌┃ “aww you poor thing.”

“plsss??:((“┃

ellliieeee????┃

els🔌┃“i’m on my way princess. say thankyou.”

“thankyou so much els ur the best<33”┃

she never drops off unless the price is right. but you’re the exception. and when she showed up to your house not only with the weed but with some snacks and chocolate for you, claiming it was for when you get the “munchies” but really she knew how being on your period sucked and especially while sober, she would lying to herself if she said she wouldn’t have given it to you anyway. she practically invited herself in and insists on keeping you company and rolling a joint for the two of you, trying to act as if it was so you wouldn’t have all the weed to yourself. which was bullshit. she couldn’t stand the thought of you lonely and in pain during that awful time of month. hell. she hated it too.

that night she had grabbed some blankets and cushions and laid the weed and snacks she brought out making sure you were comfy and made you hot tea and put on a movie you both liked and let you cuddle up to her after you both passed the joint back and forth, she had stayed over and rubbed your back until you fell asleep in her arms when the weed had done it’s job.

she was weak for you. you had her. and you both knew it. after a few days on cue came your text.

“hiiii <3 can i come thru?”┃

els🔌┃“i’m out rn. i’ll pick you up.”

“kay <3” ┃

you put your slippers on and threw on a jacket, waiting around until not even five minutes later her “here.” text made you jump up and head outside, sure enough her car was parked on the road with the headlights on. you walk over to her car the butterflies in your tummy getting more intense the closer you got. as soon as you open the passenger door the smell of weed hits you as well as the musky but clean scent of ellies cologne. a smell you had grown to love. “heyy.” you smiled as you hopped in after ellie had been frantically cleaning off the junk off the seat.

“hey princess. sorry bout the mess. hop in.” “ellie you know i don’t care. my car is worse.” you giggle as you shut the door.

ellie chuckled and started the car then pulled off the curb onto the road, her tatted arm on the steering wheel while her other arm was rested on her knee, the tattoo visible with her hoodie sleeve rolled up slightly as she gripped the steering wheel. you couldn’t not stare. you both chatted as she drove down the quiet road, barely any cars as it was past 3am. you loved night drives with her, mainly because you knew it always ended in hotboxing her car but she was just genuinely good company and made you laugh. and wet.

ellie parked up in an empty lot and pulled out a pre-rolled joint out of her pocket holding it out to you. “wanna do the honours?” “you’re so sweet.” you half teased and pulled out your lighter and lit the blunt inhaling it into your lungs and then exhaling, you had gotten good at not coughing.

ellie watched you, her eyes darkening as she watched how your lips wrapped around the joint and how your head leaned back as the cloud of smoke floated above your head as you blew it out. “show off.” ellies voice was slightly hoarse as her shaky had took the blunt off you and inhaled it herself.

“or maybe i’m just better at it.” you retorted, earning a scoff from ellie as she exhaled. “you wish.”

──────────────────────

as you were both chatting back and forth, it didn’t last long before ellie’s hand found it’s way into your panties, at first you just giggled and kept talking, until her fingers circled your clit and your words were cut off, “els..?”

“what? just playing with my favourite customer, that okay with you baby?” your breath catches in your throat and you quickly nod. a little embarrassed how fast you gave in. “yeah..” you lean back against the car seat spreading your legs further, ellie watches both you and her fingers as she circled your clit gathering your wetness. “fuck ellie…” you groan as she rubs you with the perfect amount of pressure and speed. wet noises filled the car, you were already wet from the weed, her voice and being in such close proximity with her but now you couldn’t stop leaking all over her fingers. your voice breathy and needy. “that feel good baby?” she cooed as she went faster, you nodded quickly in response, “need more els.. please.” you whine, the stimulation good but not enough “let’s get these off huh? wanna see you sweet girl.” you didn’t hesitate and rose your hips up sliding your shorts and panties off kicking them aside not giving it a second thought, ellie exhaled as you spread your legs on the seat “atta girl.”

you whimpered. “i got you baby.” she entered two fingers into you, knowing from your previous encounter you could handle it, especially with how soaked you were, a strained groan escaping her at your sounds. ellie’s eyes glanced between your face and her fingers as she slid them in and out of your slick pussy. “such a pretty fuckin pussy..” ellie murmured, you looked at her, your eyes pouty and unfocused, both from the weed and ellie’s ministrations. ellie melted and immediately leaned in to kiss you. her free hand tangled up in your hair as she tilted her head to the side allowing you to deepen the kiss, sliding her tongue into your mouth, the car was filled with filthy wet sounds and little groans and whimpers from the two of you. rain tapping on the roof of the car and windows as the heavy breathing from you and ellie fogged up the car windows.

ellie pulled away to kiss down your neck, rough and messily leaving dark marks on all over you, your hands were all over her in return, gripping the fabric of her hoodie, smelling the musky but sweet scent she carried. “god ellie..” you whispered, ellie didn’t skip a beat even as she focused on marking you up. her hand still working between your legs, drawing the cutest moans from you. “so fuckin wet… gonna leave a mess on my seat princess.”

she curled her fingers hitting the perfect spot, your back arched and higher pitched moans came from you, ellie’s palm hit your clit as she sped up, now with a purpose to make you all over her fingers. “taking my fingers so good princess… so perfect.” you couldn’t talk now, your hands gripping her shoulder as you clenched around her fingers. “ellie…ellie!”

“yeah yeah baby i know i know. c’mon princess cum on my fingers.”

you squirmed in the seat as your pussy clenched hard around ellie’s fingers as she continued to fuck you through your orgasm, fluid squirting from you each time her fingers moved out of you, spilling all over her car seat your cries and loud groans were music to her ears, you could barely hear her praising and talking you through it, not letting up until she got it all out of you. as your moans died down she slowed until pulling her soaked fingers from you. “atta girl.. shit. you made a fuckin mess huh?” she flicked some of your fluids off and sucked your mess off her fingers, your heart jumping at the sight.

you glanced down at yourself, seeing that little puddle you left on her car seat, immediately covering your face. “fuck you.” ellie laughed, patting your thigh. “hey, don’t be embarrassed. that was fuckin hot.” you uncovered your face and gave a small laugh glancing back at her. both of you seeing the state of each other. “holy shit..” you expressed, fixing yourself and reaching for your shorts and pulling them on, ellie watched with amusement. “yeah.. you good babe?”

you nodded, “way better than.” ellie chuckled and glanced out the window tapping the seat under her before looking back at you starting the engine again. “you wanna grab something to eat?” “aw you’re so sweet, i thought you were supposed to buy me dinner before fucking me?” you teased, pulling you belt on. “ah shit. you’re right. i did this wrong.” ellie said, scoffing. “don’t worry. i’ll do it right next time.” ellie chuckled pulling off the curb.

you rolled your eyes half heartedly but your heart skipped a beat at her words. “next time?” ellie glanced at you as she drove. “yeah.. if you wanna keep doing this.” you smiled, admiring her side profile and her relaxed expression. “yeah of course.” ellie’s hand came to rest on your thigh. “good.”

the rest of the night you two grab food and park up in her car and smoke some more, then go back to hers and snuggle and watch stupid movies stoned and fall asleep together on her couch.

[secretsandwriting]

Besties, batmom is apparently my favorite thing to write because I somehow managed to turn a drabble into 6k words???? Its 1k more then earned position idk how I did this??? Anyways, have this and enjoy.

I'm also trying to get more comfortable writing for Duke so bear with me as I figure out how I want to write his character.

Too Perfect

Not beta read

6.3k words

You smiled as you watched the Wayne kids mess around together in the corner of the gala. They looked like they were having a lot of fun together, it was heartwarming how close they looked. The way Jason had his arm thrown around Tim has they laughed at Dick teasing Damian by holding something he wanted just out of reach. Cassandra watched from her spot in Tim’s shadow. Signing away when something came to mind. Jason and Tim would translate for the other two so she was still heard while they were distracted.

Damian ended up kicking Dick’s ankle so he could finally grab what turned out to be his phone. Jason seemed to think it was hysterical and a good method while Tim sided with Dick claiming physical violence was not the answer. Cass just seemed to be trying to make everything worse, smiling when she said something that got them arguing harder. 

“Rowdy bunch no matter what I do.” Bruce suddenly appeared next to you, his tone fond as he smiled at his kids antics. “Are they bothering you?” You looked away from the kids to their father. 

“Not at all. I’m happy to see them able to act like kids in high society. Most lose the chance and ability to be anything other then perfect young.” Bruce hummed, about to say something when your watch beeped. “That’s my cue to leave. I have a long day of ahead of me tomorrow.”

“It is quite late. Thank you for coming, I hope you had a good time.” He gave you his famous smiled, the one that had most girls swooning. 

“I did! It was quite a lovely night. Thank you for the invite!” You returned his smile before heading out the door and too your car.

A few weeks later you found yourself at your favorite cafe. Stepping carefully, you tried to avoid the ice on your way in. The recent snow storm happening almost immediately after rain had made the roads and sidewalks horrible. The plows and salt helped but it was still a disaster. 

Opening the door, the warm air enveloped you. The scent of coffee and baked goods heavy in the air, producing a comforting feeling and making you forget about the snow and ice outside for a minute. The line wasn’t long but you had left early enough it wouldn’t have mattered if it was out the door. 

Your usual was punched in the second you got up to the register, the barista just chatting with you instead of asking. A testament to how often you came. Moving away after you were done paying so the person behind you could order, you hummed along to the song playing over the radio. You checked your phone for any texts about work for the day and ran through your mental checklist to make sure you were ready for the day. 

Your checklist was interrupted by your name as your coffee was set on the counter. Grabbing it you took a sip and sighed. It was too early for all of this. Heading out the door, you tried to be just as careful as you were going in. Tried being the keyword. You slipped on the ice, there was no way you could stop from falling so you just braced for impact. 

It never came, instead you found yourself leaning against someone. They helped you back up, hand gentle on your back as they made sure you were standing without risk of falling again. 

“You ok?” Turning around to thank them, you were met with Bruce Wayne. Concern swimming in his eyes. Your coffee was in his other hand, he must of noticed your glance at it because he handed it back to you. “I figured you wouldn’t want to have to go back for another one.”

“Yes, thank you for catching both me and my coffee!” He smiled as he stepped back. 

“It was no trouble!” He gave you another smile before turning around and heading into the coffee shop, you didn’t notice the steaming coffee on the ground near you as you turned and headed back to your car. Thinking about how it was odd you had seen him twice in a couple weeks.

Browsing the books in the little shop, you let out a sigh when you realized they didn’t have the book you wanted. That's what you get for slacking and waiting a month after getting the notification they had it in stock. Deciding to do the best thing and leave before you end up with a stack of books you don’t need, you headed for the door. Promising yourself you would come earlier next time. 

You were interrupted from your thoughts by Bruce Wayne looking completely lost. He kept glancing down at a paper in his hand and back up at the shelf. Eyebrows furrowed as he tried to find something. He had helped you at the cafe so maybe you could repay the favor. 

“What are you looking for?” He whipped around like you had just jumped out and screamed at him. You stifled a laugh but your smile still slipped through. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly a little embarrassed before squaring his shoulders and looking down at his list. 

“I didn’t know you worked here… Jason asked me to pick up these books for him.” He handed you the list. You scanned through the titles, all classics. He was in the fiction on the opposite side of the store from the classics.

“I don’t, I just shop here way too much. These would be over here.” He snorted as he followed you through the store. You listened to him as he talked about his kids. Laughing at the mischief they caused and smiling at the clearly fond tone as he told you about the random little things they had done. You had alway wanted kids but every time you tried, something happened. EIther breakups or problems getting pregnant. So you found yourself living through Bruce’s stories. Imaging having your own kids who pulled similar stunts or the things they would do. Once all of the books were picked out and paid for, you prepared to split ways.

“Would you like to go to dinner sometime?” Bruce asked. You stopped and stared at him, his cheeks turning a light pink under your gaze. You reached into your bag to pull out a pen and paper, jotting down your number and handing it to him. 

“I would love to!”

Dinner was at your favorite restaurant, so you knew the food was good. The conversation was a little awkward but it wasn’t long until you were easily conversing. Talking about everything from work, his kids latest adventures, to politics. 

He was a perfect gentleman the entire night. Opening all the doors, pulling out your chair for you, kind to all the staff, understanding of any mistakes that had happened and still tipped them well. The butterflies in your stomach had fed on that to become stronger and make you feel more sick then nervous at times. 

After dinner, you went for a walk in a park nearby. The night chill was kept away by the laughter between you too as you shared ridiculous stories. When you decided it was late and you needed to leave, Bruce walked you to your car and waited until you left to leave.

“Did you walk her to her car when you left?” Jason was the first at the door to question him. Sometimes Bruce really wondered if Jason was actually going to do his whole revenge plan with how he acts with the family now. At the end of the night he was just glad Jason was alive and around to question his every move. 

“Of course I did. Who do you think I am?” Jason paused like he was searching for something to insult Bruce with as his response but Tim slid into the room and immediately started questioning him. 

“Did you open the doors for her?” Bruce signed. He really should try to hide more of his dating life from them. 

“I opened the doors and pulled her chair out for her. And,” He turned and looked at Damian who had just run into the room. “I asked about her day and listened.” Damian nodded like he was proud of Bruce. He just shook his head at his boys. 

“But did you extend the date to go a litt-” 

“We went on a walk after dinner.” Dick huffed at being interrupted but he was pleased with the answer. Bruce turned his attention to Cass so he wouldn’t miss her question. 

“Yes, I did tell her she looked pretty tonight.” Cass grinned and nodded. 

You smiled at your phone as you read the text from Bruce followed with a short video of Damian ranting about not being allowed to pet the tigers. You had been texting with him daily between work and whatever else you had to do ever since the date. There had been regular phone calls and now regular facetimes every night as well as your 5th date happening Saturday night. 

Bruce had been nothing but a gentleman the entire relationship. Something you weren’t fully used to yet. There was nothing you would change. Communication was great, boundaries were being respected, there was no pressure, and there were no lies. It was almost too perfect.

Bruce wanted to introduce you to the kids and they all wanted to meet you. According to Bruce, despite never meeting you, they all claimed they would go with you if there was a breakup. You had just laughed it off when he told you. Figuring it was just something they were joking about as a way to tease their father. 

“They’ll love you!” Bruce reassured you as you walked up to the manor door. “They were all excited to find out you were coming tonight. Dick and Jason made sure they had the night off so they could come.” You really wanted him to stop talking. He was only making this worse. 

The door opened and the first thing you heard was yelling. Bruce just sighed next to you. Alfred took your coat after introducing himself, informing you it would be another half hour before dinner would be done and then leaving to go work on it.

As you followed Bruce in, the yelling got louder. You were headed towards the boys, the volume of their yelling made it obvious when you were almost there. You made it in time to see Jason holding Tim up by the collar as Damian cheered and Dick tried to get Jason to let go of Tim. Tim was interrupting Dick’s attempts to keep arguing with Jason, making his chances to get put down lower. Cass was just sitting on the couch watching everything go down, when she spotted you, she came over and offered to give you a tour of the manor. You of course accepted and left with Cass while Bruce stayed to deal with the boys.

You took the time to get to know a little about Cass, carefully paying attention when she talked slow and quietly. While you weren’t the most fluent with sign language you could normally make out what she was saying, at least a little bit. Along the way, Duke joined you, adding in jokes here and there and helping to translate for Cass when you struggled to understand what she was saying. 

The tour ended in the dining room where the others waited. You felt a little better about it when Cass and Duke insisted you sit with them. It made you feel like you could do this and like it wouldn’t go too badly. After all, two of them liked you now… At least they seemed too. 

Steph joined shortly after you were seated, apologizing about being late and rambling about a project she was working on. With that, Dinner was started. Along with the absolutely amazing food, you got to learn more about the kids Bruce had collected. 

Dick was a police officer in Bludhaven, he had moved after a fight with Bruce that had been resolved but decided he liked it there and the freedom that came with it and stayed. He had adjusted to living on his own relatively smoothly and loved it when his siblings dropped by. He was offered a promotion recently but he wasn’t sure if he wanted it. He was also very glad Bruce was in a serious relationship because maybe he would back off on his parenting. 

Jason loved books, especially the classics. He was the most obviously dramatic of them all and loved to play things up. He had gotten kidnapped and went no contact with Bruce when he came back. He had made up with Bruce recently but it was still a little rocky sometimes. His apartment gets regularly broken into by his siblings and he claimed to hate it but the look in his eyes told you he really didn’t mind it and truly liked that they felt safe coming to him. 

Tim was the CEO of W.E, something he took great pride in. He also likes mysteries so he looks into police cases and tried to solve them before the police. He likes working with computers and figuring out bugs in programs, something he likes to do with Barbara. He really likes coffee, drinks more then he should but won’t stop. He doesn’t have a spleen anymore and somehow he managed to keep that a secret from the family until recently. And while he violently denied it, go as far to punch Dick when he suggested it, Tim was extremely protective of his family.

Damian loves animals, going as far to become vegetarian after saving a cow from a slaughter house. He collects pets and despite the large amount he had, he still took perfect care of them. His favorite subject in school is history but his favorite class is art. He likes painting and according to everyone he’s absolutely amazing at it. He lived with his mom until he was 10 when she sent him to live with his dad. He knew Jason first because Jason had joined his family after he had been kidnapped. While Damian claimed he disliked his brothers, it was very obvious he truly cared about them and loved them deeply. 

Duke had recently moved into the manor and was still getting used to having enough money to spend on things other than necessities. He had started helping Tim figure out what charities to donate to the most and regularly worked with Jason on helping kids on the streets. He was part of the We Are Robin movement, something he spoke about with great pride as well as pain. He liked collecting cards for a game and was very excited when you asked to see his collection. He had also been arrested, something you couldn’t picture about the sweet boy next to you. 

Steph was also vegetarian and she loves bubble tea and other fruity drinks. She regularly works with Human Rights Activists and wants to help as many people as possible. She loves going out for girls days and forcing her brothers into facemasks and other similar things. She’s big on quality time, one of the ones who drops by Dick’s and Jason’s apartments the most. She likes podcasts, apparently its all she listens to and she gives good recommendations. She also loves watching darmas for the sole purpose of laughing at the stupid plot points. 

Cass loves ballet, she finds it fun and relaxing. Due to a bad childhood she struggles with talking and understanding words but she’s been working on it. She really likes sign language and was very happy when the rest of the family touched up their skills or learned it to make communicating easier for her. She’s also big on quality time, the other one who drops in the most. She just likes to sit quietly with other people while doing their each doing their own thing. She really likes chocolate ice cream and knows the best brands. She likes to randomly scare her siblings, she thinks its funny when they jump and scream. 

The entire dinner, as you talked and listened to the kids, Bruce just grinned from his spot. Happy to have his kids and girlfriend all together and wishing the peace would last forever. After dinner, you moved to the living room where the talking continued until late in the night. 

After the dinner, you spent more time at the manor and with the kids. Cass invited you to her ballet recitals and sometimes asked for a ride when Bruce and Jason were busy. Steph invited you to go out with her, drinks and window shopping became a biweekly thing. Damian would invite you to help with his animals, he would tell you things he knew about them as you worked. He would also requests rides from school when needed. Duke would tell you about the new cards he had gotten and their stats and would invite you to go hunting for rare ones with him. Jason started a book club with you, you would meet once a week to discuss what you had read and whatever else was on his mind. Tim would get your opinion on cases he was trying to solve, you would get coffee and try to solve the case. Dickwould invite you to join him for gossip, you would trade gossip about the cities and whatever else you knew. 

Overall, you got along well with the kids. Something you were happy about and something that made Bruce fall in love with you more and more the more he saw you interact with them or when they would talk about everything they had done with you. His kids were his life, and to have you come in and love and care for them like they were your own meant more then he could ever hope to put into words. 

Your relationship with Bruce was perfect. He was a gentleman who always treated you right an made sure you were well taken care of, His kids liked you and you absolutely adored them. He was the best partner you had ever had and your relationship was healthier then you had even thought possible. It was absolutely perfect.

Too perfect. Something wasn’t lining up. The injuries, the slow texts at night when you knew he had nothing planned and the kids were busy, the secret basement. Something was going on. Sp you did the only thing you could think of. You documented everything. 

Every mystery scratch, bruise, broken bone, it was all written down. After a week you noticed a pattern. Everytime Batman got into a bad fight and was injured, Bruce had the same injury the very next day. Bruce Wayne couldn’t be Batman, it had to be a coincidence so you kept documenting. Hoping to get a different answer. 

2 weeks in, your questions started multiplying. Steph had broken her leg right about the time spoiler was thrown off a roof by the villain of the week and had to be carried away by Red Hood. That couldn’t be right.

Week 3 had Damain getting mugged and stabbed the same night Robin was stabbed by a henchman after being overwhelmed. 

Week 4 Jason was shot when helping a kid in an alley the same night Red Hood was shot busting a human trafficking ring. 

Week 5 Cass broke her arm falling down the stairs the day after Black Bat broke hers in combat. 

Week 6 Tim ran into a wall and got a concussion the day after Red Robin was thrown into a wall and was carried away by Nightwing yelling about a concussion. 

Week 7 Dick was shot off duty by someone wanting revenge the same night Nightwing was shot busting a robbery. 

By week 8 you couldn’t deny it. Something is going on and you wanted an explanation. So you set a time to meet with Bruce at the manor using the dreaded “We need to talk.” You met at the manor when all the kids were out and busy so it was just the two of you. Bruce was clearly nervous and unsure of what exactly you wanted to talk about. 

You just handed him all your notes and waited. You watched as he read and all the nervousness practically melted off him and was replaced by an unreadable calm. A sinking feeling filled your stomach as you hoped he would tell you the truth and not lie like everyone else who had switched up like that. Bruce read silently, reading every line carefully before moving onto the next one. 

Hes coming up with excuses. 

Your mind supplied. You tried to push the thought away. Bruce hadn’t lied about anything so far in your relationship. He had just hidden something and he hid it because it was dangerous. Yeah, it was too dangerous to just tell people right away but you had been dating for 6 months so he could trust you with it now. He was going to tell you soon or he just didn’t know how to bring it u-

“I’m not sure why you think I could be Batman? Me?” Oh.

“Bruce, it’s too many coinc-”

“Y/n, I’m not batman and the kids are vigilantes either. Yes it’s definitely weird it lines up so well but it doesn’t mean anything.” He was lying, you could see the spark of panic in his eyes as he tried to convince you that it wasn’t real. It told you everything you needed to know. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you spoke. 

“You’re right. It is a bit weird, but I believe you. I’m glad I could get some confirmation.” Bruce smiled at you, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. “I have a meeting I need to get to, I’ll see you later.” You kissed him goodbye and went straight home, blocking his number from the comfort of your bed. You weren’t going to date another liar. 

The next morning, you accepted the out of country transfer your job had offered you. You packed up and left within a week. You had gotten a few texts from the kids asking how you were and you made sure to respond to them. They seemed to understand you needed space and didn’t text you much after that first week. You were thankful they understood and appreciated that they never mentioned their father to you. 

Your first week in your new home you had gotten sick. Nothing seemed to help so you went into the doctor. Turns out you and Bruce hadn’t been as careful as you thought you had been. The positive pregnancy test, a testament to how nothing seemed to go as planned the past month. 

Thankfully your job and doctor helped you find resources to help you get along as a soon to be single mother in a foreign country. With all the help you had been provided, it would hopefully go as smooth as possible given the circumstances. 

Eleven months later, you found yourself back in Gotham. Nothing seemed to change while you were gone, the city was the same dreary city with extremely high crime rates but you had missed it. As horrible as it was, Gotham was home. 

A friend had helped you move your things into your new apartment, the nursery had taken priority so Penelope would hopefully be able to sleep through most of the rest of the moving. Wishful thinking, Penny had been nothing but a handful. Her favorite activity seemed to be wailing as loud as her little lungs would allow her whenever you were trying to get any sort of semblance of rest. Sometimes, you wondered if you hadn’t connected the dots, if Bruce being around would help with the stress. If it would have made your pregnancy smoother and now if you would be able to sleep a little more. 

Penelope had just settled down for a nap when there was a knock on your door. You sighed as your plans for a nap were ruined by whoever was knocking, half tempted to just ignore them. Another knock, this time louder. They would wake Penny if you didn’t answer the door so you went to see who needed you so desperately. A redhead girl in a wheelchair smiled at you as you opened the door. Barbara your mind supplied. 

“Sorry to drop by so suddenly but I wanted to talk to you about Bruce and Penelope.” You sighed again, you knew this would come and that you would have to talk about it. You stepped aside and let Barbara in, closing the door behind her. 

“Penny just went down for a nap so we need to be quiet. Can I get you something to drink?” Barbara got settled at the table, looking around quietly while you got her drink. She took a sip of it while you sat down across from her, setting the glass on the table and turning her attention to you. 

“Are you going to tell Bruce about Penelope?” Straight to the point.

“Eventually.”

“Would you consider dating Bruce again if he apologized and told you the truth first this time?”

“It depends on what the truth is and how good his apology is.” She nodded, thinking for a second.

“Bruce doesn’t know you’re back yet. I’ve managed to keep it from him and Tim. Just like I did with all your google searches about their injuries. I was hoping he’d tell you the truth then but he’s so stubborn. I’m going to tell them tomorrow that you're back, I just wanted to get your thoughts about it before I did so I could hopefully curb anything that was unwanted.” From there you talked about random things, getting to know her and catching up on everything that had happened in Gotham while you were gone. The conversation was interrupted by Penny’s crying. Barbara left, claiming Bruce should be the first to meet Penny. 

“I won’t mention Penny. I’ll leave that for you to do when you're ready.” She offered you a smile before wheeling herself out of your apartment. As you fed Penny, you thought about your conversation with Barbara. Bruce was unblocked later that night. 

Your phone lit up with Bruce’s name the next night. He asked to meet and talk in a park that was always empty. He promised he would tell you the truth and apologized for lying before. You agreed.

You caught up with him for a little bit before Bruce mentioned your conversation before you left. He admitted you were right and he had just panicked. He apologized for lying again and told you that he should have never brushed you off like he had, even if it had been fake. 

He told you about how it all started, how he got Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, and Damian. How he had found Steph and Duke. About what happened with Barbara. He told you about his missions, the justice league, his paranoia, and trust issues. You listened to him silently for hours. 

Hours later, once he had gone over everything. You agreed to try again.

After your second first date with Bruce, the kids started reaching out to you again. You had forgotten how much you enjoyed their presence in your life. You didn’t spend as much time with them as you had used to due to needing to take care of Penny and the price of sitters being too expensive. 

You had decided to tell Bruce about Penny on your fourth date. You would tell him at dinner and invite him over to meet her. Unfortunately your sitter canceled last minute right before your third date. You considered canceling but you needed to tell Bruce and there was a high chance you would chicken out later on. 

So you wrestled Penny into a cute outfit and into the dreaded car seat, the one she screamed at like it was going to eat her when you put her in. She thankfully fell asleep in the car, making it easier for you to go in faster. You were already late as it was. 

Bruce saw you walk in and was about to stand up to greet you when he saw the carseat and froze. You took a deep breath and went over to the table, gently setting her down while you took your own seat. Bruce looked over to you, questions clearly written all over his face. 

“She’s yours. I found out a week after I moved. She’ll be 4 months old in a week. You can hold her when she wakes up if you want.” “What’s her name?”

“Penelope Avery Wayne.” He sucked in a breath, trying to hold his tears back. Penny slept through the whole meal, giving you time to talk. Bruce asked all about her and how your pregnancy went. 

He followed you back to your apartment and just watched Penny sleep as you talked on the couch. When she woke up and started wailing when she realized she was still in the horrid carseat, you gently pulled her out and handed her to Bruce. 

She quieted down when given her freedom from the seat, her big blue eyes meeting Bruce’s own. She smiled up at him as she shoved her fist in her mouth, inspecting him from her spot in his arms. Bruce cooed over her as he wiped the tears from his eyes as he held his little girl for the first time. 

The second his other kids found out about Penny, there was a group outside your door begging to see her and offer their babysitting services. Every single one of them adored her and wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. Penny soaked up the attention like a little sponge.

Cass and Duke were her favorites but she still loved all the others. Bruce was over whenever he could be to help, taking a very active roll in Penny’s care. You barely lifted a finger, only having to feed her when Bruce was around. 

You eventually agreed to move into the manor with Bruce. All the kids were ecstatic. It would make seeing you and Penny easier for them. Bruce and Tim convinced you to quit your job, Tim promised you work at W.E if you were set on working and all the others offered to bring you along when they went to help out at their favorite charities and organizations. 

Bruce made sure he was open and honest about everything, including his Batman adventures. The kids all came to you when he pissed them off or made a call that they didn’t like or they thought was unfair. Things were looking up and you hoped they stayed that way. 

They stayed up, in fact they went higher than you thought it could. They went higher and higher and Tim was the one who started it. 

“Hey mom, do you know where my black dress shoes are? I have a meeting I need them for.” You just stared at him, trying not to cry. Tim looked up, trying to figure out why you weren’t answering him and then why you looked like you were about to cry. You knew the second he figured it out, his face going bright red.

“I’m sorry! It just slipped! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable ot anything! I’l-” You cut him off.

“It’s ok Tim! You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I was just surprised. You’re more than welcome to call me mom if that’s what you want. You’re shoes are in the coat closet to the left.” He nodded and went to grab them. 

“Thanks mom!” He called out as he stepped out the door to head to work. You couldn’t hold the tears back once the door was shut and again when you told Bruce that night. He just smiled as he held you while you cried, happy to know his family was doing well together. 

Dick did it next. He had come over to celebrate finishing a tough case as Nightwing. He brushed past Bruce and came straight to you. Wrapping you into a hug, you hugged him back and waited until he pulled away to let go. Bruce let out a teasing scoff, clearly not upset but pretending to be. Dick pulled away to look at Bruce.

“I came for Alfred’s food and to get praise for my good job from Mom.” He stuck his tongue out at Bruce before coming back in for another hug. You held him tight, tears welling up in your eyes again. “Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” He inspected you closely before breaking out in a grin. “Is is because I called you mom? Aww!” He hugged you again. “You shouldn’t be crying because I called you mom, you should be crying because it means you can never leave us. You’re stuck here with us forever.”

“That’s a good thing. I love all of you so much I could never leave you guys.” Dick hugged you tighter. You didn’t mention his teary eyes when he pulled away. 

Cass started calling you mom shortly after. She used it when she signed for you. It took everything not to cry at her performance when she used it for the first time. Once she started, she refused to call you anything else. You were mom and everyone knew exactly who she was referring to when she did it with the others. 

Duke jokingly started calling you “Mom 2”. He had apologized later on if it offended you. He still had his mom and while she wasn’t all there anymore she was still his mom and that title belonged to her. You had held him as you both cried, reassuring him that it didn’t bother you and you had no problems with it or with him just calling you by your name. Promising him that you would never be offended over something like this and he shouldn’t feel pressured to call you anything other than your name if he didn’t want to. 

Damian was next, you knew his mom was still alive and that he cared for her greatly even though their relationship was a bit rough. So you expected him to just call you by your name, it never bothered you and was something you just never thought about. It was up to him to decide what he was comfortable calling you. 

“Ummi, can we take Penny to the Zoo next week? I want to show her the baby lion the was just born.” Damian had run into the kitchen to ask, interrupting your breakfast with Bruce but you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

“Of course, we can go after you get out of school on tuesday.” Damian cheered and went to tell Penny the news. The 8 month old having no clue what was going on but feeding off of Damian’s excitement. 

“Y/n,” you turned to look at Bruce.  “Ummi means mother in arabic.” You stared at him like he grew another head. “Damian just called you mother.” Bruce pulled you into a hug as you realized another one of his kids viewed you as safe enough to be their mother. Bruce gently rocked you in the kitchen as you tried not to cry again.

Jason’s happened next, you would have been more excited if you hadn’t been so terrified. You had gotten nervous with all of them out on patrols so Bruce had given you a com so you could listen and know that they were ok. Unfortunately it also let you hear everything going wrong. 

You nudged past Bruce to get to Jason. He was laying on a bed, freshly patched up after a really bad mission. He had been stabbed 3 times and shot 6 more times. He was out cold but Alfred assured you he would be ok if he took the time needed to heal. You didn’t leave his bedside for 3 days while he slept. Worried that the second you stepped away something bad would happen to him. 

“Mom?” You jerked out of your thoughts and looked to Jason. He was barely awake and looked scared. He looked every bit of the little boy he had lost in the explosion and it broke your heart and made you glad Bruce had stepped out to put Penny to bed so he didn’t have to see it. 

“I’m here. What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” He whispered a yes so you called Alfred to up the pain meds, staying with him until he was fully lucid and kicked you out to get some rest. 

Jason stayed in the manor for a few weeks and let you, Bruce, and Alfred nurse him to help. Alfred pulled you aside and asked that in the future if any of them get hurt badly again, that you weaponize the look of horror and sadness you had when Jason tried to leave early that made him stay longer. You agreed to try, especially if it would make the chances of them healing better higher. 

Bruce proposed shortly after, of course you said yes and the wedding planning began. A year later you were officially married. In that one day, you got a Husband and 7 kids, making for a total of 8 children. Well 9 if you counted the baby from the test you had taken the night before the wedding. 

“Say Y/n’s Pregnant!” The photographer yelled as she started snapping pictures, perfectly capturing the moment your family processed what she had said. 

Things were good. You were happy with your family and you knew that even through the hard parts, you would be ok. 

[youreverydayfangirl]

DELICATE

pairing: max verstappen x singer reader

summary: the one where she has reservations, everything's a bit fragile for her and hes persistent

warning: self doubt

a/n: THREE UPDATES????

face claim: sabrina carpenter

f1 masterlist

main masterilst

series masterlist

jimmyandsassysdad has requested to follow

y/nsprivate accepted the follow request

y/nsprivate has requested to follow

jimmyandsassysdad accepted the follow request

y/nsprivate has posted

liked by jimmyandsassysdad, thatoneartgirlalex and 20 others

y/nsprivate still looking for my flynn

thatoneartgirlalex YUMMMYYYYYYYYYY

-> y/nsprivate i was legit drooling over you

keekslikestospammmm HAWWT

-> y/nsprivate STOP I MISS YOU

livbereallydumb hey so can u give a girl a warning first 😍

-> y/nsprivate me anytime i see you

itssabrinaaa u free rn 😏

-> y/nsprivate waiting for you

jimmyandsassysdad look no further

-> leosfather HES GOT GAME

-> thatoneartgirlalex 😱😱 y/nsprivate

-> keekslikestospammmm 😱😱 y/nsprivate

-> livbereallydumb 😱😱 y/nsprivate

-> itssabrinaaa 😱😱 y/nsprivate

-> y/nsprivate 🤭 how about that second date???

-> leosfather HE SHOOTS HE SCORES

f1gossip

iked by exbsf and 126, 098 others

f1gossip some snapshots of your fav f1 couples at Charles Leclercs halloween party last night!!

Tagged: charlesleclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, estebanocon, flavybarla, pierregasly, francisca.cgomes

user1 exbsf in the likes??

-> user2 all she does is try and insert herself into WAG activities tbh

-> user3 right! she did the same thing when lando was still with you know who

user4 alex and charles in the third pic omg

user5 anyone else find it weird that a lot of the grid was invited but lando wasn't

user6 is that y/n y/ln in the last slide

-> user7 IS THAT MAX VERSTAPPEN

-> user8 OMGG????

-> user9 delusional as shit

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

It had been a couple weeks since y/n last saw Max, but the memory of the night was still fresh in her mind. Since then she had spoken to Max over text a handful of times. When the Charles' halloween party came around, she wasn’t entirely surprised to find herself standing beside him, his broad figure decked out in a Top Gun flight suit that looked almost too good on him.

He gave her an appraising look, clearly amused. "So, Rapunzel, huh? Looks like you were ready to let down your hair," he said with a grin, glancing at the long, braided wig she’d chosen for the night.

She laughed, giving a mock curtsy. "Only for special occasions," she teased.

As they mingled through the crowded party, he leaned down, an amused glint in his eyes. "So… does this count as our first date?" he asked, his tone light but a little hopeful.

Y/n smiled, feeling her cheeks heat up as she glanced sideways at him. "Depends," she replied. "Are you going to sweep me off my feet like a real first date?"

Max chuckled, taking her hand with a confidence that made her pulse quicken. "Guess I’ll have to step up my game, then," he said, pulling her closer into the crowd of people dancing.

y/nsprivate has posted

liked by thatoneartgirlalex, keekslikestospammmm and 21 others

y/nsprivate some cute flicks

jimmyandsassysdad GIZMO MENTIONED

-> y/nsprivate HE ALREADY MISSES THEM 😭

thatoneartgirlalex CUTE CUTE CUTE

-> y/nsprivate YOUR CUTE

livbereallydumb wonder who bought those flowers 🤔

-> itssabrinaaa 'just a friend'

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

It was a quiet Sunday night, and the city’s noise was muffled by the gentle sound of rain tapping against the windows. Y/n curled up on the couch next to Max, feeling the warmth of his arm around her as they watched bones together in comfortable silence. His cats, Jimmy and Sassy, had claimed their spots on the other side of the couch, while her own cat, Gizmo, was nestled comfortably in her lap. It was a picture of peaceful simplicity, the kind of evening she never wanted to end.

Max reached for the remote, lowering the volume during a quiet part of the movie. She glanced up, and he looked down at her, eyes soft, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all night. Her heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his gaze.

“Y/n, can I ask you something?” he said quietly, his voice a bit more serious than usual.

“Of course,” she replied, straightening up slightly, her hand absentmindedly scratching Gizmo’s ears.

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words. “I just… I need to know, Y/n, what are we?”

Her heart sank, the warmth she’d felt just moments before now turning to panic. She hadn’t been ready for this, not yet. The future, a label, something real, she knew that was what he deserved, but she didn’t know if she could be the one to give it to him. The words choked in her throat, refusing to form.

“Max, I…” she stammered, eyes darting away. Her fingers instinctively went to pet Gizmo, as if somehow grounding herself to reality, but it wasn’t working. The room felt too small, the air too thick. “I don’t… I don’t know if I can give you an answer right now.”

His face softened, though she could see the hurt flicker in his eyes. “I understand if you’re scared. I just want to know if I’m someone you want to try with. I’ll wait, Y/n. But I need to know if there’s something to wait for.”

The vulnerability in his voice shattered her, and she could feel the words bubbling up, desperate to explain herself. But the more she tried to force them out, the more trapped she felt. She swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears welling up, and before she even fully understood what she was doing, she stood up, gently displacing Gizmo from her lap.

“Y/n?” Max’s voice was laced with concern, but she couldn’t look at him. The room was spinning, and she felt like she was drowning.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible. “I just… I need to go.”

She grabbed her things, barely managing to gather Gizmo in her arms before heading to the door. She could feel Max’s gaze on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn around. Not when she felt so raw, so exposed.

The last thing she heard before she closed the door behind her was the quiet, broken way he’d called her name. And it stayed with her the entire way home, echoing in her mind as she fought the urge to turn back, knowing she wasn’t ready to face the fear or the love that waited for her on the other side of it.

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

Y/n sighed, her eyes lingering on the messages Max had sent her. She replayed his words in her mind, but the part that made her heart race—the moment he’d asked, “What are we?”—had also made her freeze. She didn’t quite understand her reaction, why that question had shaken her so deeply.

It wasn’t that Max had done anything wrong. He’d been everything she could hope for—patient, caring, thoughtful. She knew she felt something real for him, that he’d somehow slipped past every wall she’d built since her breakup with Lando. But beneath that realization, a dark feeling had crept over her, like ink spreading across a page. She was scared. No, she was terrified.

After everything she’d been through, the idea of letting someone in again felt overwhelming. She’d barely managed to piece herself back together after Lando, and she knew that if things fell apart with Max, she might not have the strength to do it again. With Max, she’d fallen fast and hard, in a way that felt both thrilling and dangerous. And how could she not? He was almost too good to be true. Yet, she couldn’t shake the voice in the back of her mind whispering that trust like this came with a cost.

Her relationship with Lando had taught her so much. They’d loved each other, but they’d been unwilling to bend in the ways that mattered. There were too many conflicts, too many moments of stubborn silence. She knew, deep down, that they were never meant to be.

But with Max, it was different. He saw beauty in parts of her that Lando had once found flaws. The qualities she had found exhausting in Lando felt effortless in Max. He was everything.

Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to fall completely, because if she did, Y/n didn’t believe anyone would be there to catch her.

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

Y/n had barely slept the night before, her mind stuck on the way Max had looked at her when he asked, “What are we?” She’d messaged him, asking to meet up, but now, waiting for him here, her stomach twisted with nerves. When she saw him walking toward her, hands tucked in his pockets, that gentle smile on his face, her heart clenched. How was it that he could make her feel both safe and completely vulnerable at the same time?

“Hey,” he greeted, his smile fading a little as he studied her face. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, though the words tangled in her throat, refusing to come out. Max, sensing her hesitation, took a step closer, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and patience.

“Y/n, talk to me,” he murmured, his voice a soft anchor.

“I… I don’t know why I panicked,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “When you asked what we were.” She saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes and felt guilt wash over her. “It’s not you, Max. You’ve been everything I could want.”

He looked down, nodding slowly as he absorbed her words. “But something’s keeping you from trusting this,” he said gently, sadness tracing his voice.

She exhaled shakily, looking away. “After everything with Lando, I just… I’m terrified, Max. The thought of letting myself fall again, of opening up like that—it scares me. If something went wrong… I don’t think I’d be able to put myself back together.”

He was quiet, letting her words sink in. Then he reached for her hand, his thumb brushing softly over her knuckles. “Y/n,” he said, his voice steady and calm. “I know you’re scared. And I understand that trust isn’t easy when you’ve been hurt before. But I’m not him. I’m here now, and I want us—whatever that looks like for you.”

He tilted her chin up, his eyes meeting hers with a fierce sincerity. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with the emotions she’d kept buried. “You deserve someone who’s not this… scared.”

Max shook his head, his expression unwavering. “I want you, Y/n—all of it. The good, the bad, the parts you’re afraid to show. I know I’m asking for a lot, but please, let me in.” His gaze softened, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We can take it as slow as you need. I’m here for that.”

Y/n felt a weight lift from her chest as she looked into his eyes, realizing that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to carry the fear alone. She didn’t have to be fully healed to let herself love him.

With a small, tentative smile, she squeezed his hand back. “Thank you, Max. For being so patient with me.”

A look of relief and warmth spread across his face. “You’re worth the wait, Y/n.”

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

a wayyyy more wordy one for you guys

thank you for all the love on this you guys omgg

also i thought id do a couple now cause halloween is coming up and im gonna be bussyyyy

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

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[pastryfication]

hi! If you are still taking requests would you please write a Oscar x reader where the reader starts being besties with Hattie and Oscar is half panicking bc they are now both making fun of him bc Hattie tells the reader so many embarrassing moments in his life

MONACO MAYHEM, oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader

becoming best friends with hattie piastri was perhaps one of the best things that ever happened to you.

it wasn’t something you had planned, but it happened almost instantly and so naturally that it felt like you were actually soulmates.

oscar had just invited you to meet his family during a visit to australia, and you were incredibly nervous at first—meeting the family of your boyfriend felt like a big deal!

but hattie had made everything easy. as soon as you two started chatting, you clicked. it wasn’t long before you were in deep conversation, laughing at her endless stories, many of which revolved around oscar’s childhood blunders. by the end of the trip, you’d exchanged numbers, and from then on, your texts became a daily thing. hattie’s constant updates were often filled with the most embarrassing and ridiculous moments of oscar’s life, which you gleefully stored in your memory bank.

oscar, however, wasn’t exactly thrilled with this new friendship—especially when he became the main subject of your conversations. now that you and hattie had teamed up, he was completely outnumbered.

one morning, when you were curled up on the couch in the monaco apartment you shared with oscar, lazily scrolling through your phone, you received yet another message from hattie.

hattie: did i ever tell you about the time oscar made a homemade 'racing simulator' out of a lawn chair and bicycle handles? he claimed he was training for the future . . . except he was like 5.

you burst out laughing, barely able to contain yourself. oscar, who was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, sorting through some papers, looked up in alarm.

“what happened?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at you. his voice was tinged with that familiar suspicion—he knew that laugh too well by now.

you tried to bite back a grin, quickly locking your phone screen. “nothing. just . . . hattie being hattie, you know.”

“which means she’s telling you more stories about me,” oscar muttered, already dreading whatever had made you laugh. “what is it this time? my high school haircut? the time i crashed my bike in front of the neighbors?”

you shook your head, barely able to keep your laughter in. “no, not quite. it’s . . . something about a ‘homemade racing simulator’. a lawn chair? bicycle handles?”

oscar’s face immediately flushed a cute pink. “oh god, not that story.”

you grinned, enjoying his embarrassment way more than you should have. “i mean, it sounds pretty impressive. five-year-old oscar was ahead of his time, huh?”

he buried his face in his hands, groaning. “i’m going to kill hattie.”

“oh, come on! it’s cute,” you teased, scooting over to sit beside him. “i love hearing about little oscar and his racing dreams.”

“you love hearing about my embarrassing moments,” he corrected, glancing at you with narrowed eyes.

“true,” you admitted, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly. “but it’s all in good fun. besides, it just proves that you’ve always been destined for racing greatness—even if you started off with bicycle handles and a lawn chair.” you stifle a giggle by burrowing your face in his shoulder.

oscar sighed, shaking his head. “remind me again why i introduced you to my sisters?”

“because you love me,” you said sweetly, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “and because you secretly love how well i get along with hattie.”

“yeah, but i didn’t expect you two to team up against me,” he muttered, resting his head back against your shoulder.

“we’re not against you,” you teased, kissing the top of his head. “we’re just . . . having a little fun.”

oscar rolled his eyes, trying to keep his irritated demeanour, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “yeah, sure. that’s what it is.”

just then, your phone buzzed again. another message from hattie.

hattie: hey, so i’ve been thinking . . . how about me, edie and mae come visit you guys in monaco next month? i’ve been dying to see what oscar’s life is like over there.

you grinned, already excited at the idea of oscar’s sisters coming to visit. hattie had mentioned visiting monaco before, but this was the first time she’d included edie and mae in the plan. you quickly typed a response.

you: yes! please come! we’ll be thrilled to have you!!

oscar noticed the gleam in your eye and immediately sat up. “what’s going on now?”

you turned to him, trying to keep your expression innocent. “oh, just hattie asking if she, edie and mae can come visit next month.”

his eyes widened in what could only be described as mild panic. “all three of them? here? in monaco?”

“yep,” you said, stifling a laugh. “she wants to see where you live and get the full experience. plus, you’ll get to be the perfect tour guide.”

oscar groaned, leaning back against the couch dramatically. “so i’m going to have my girlfriend and my three sisters all in one place, ganging up on me?”

“sounds like a good time to me,” you said cheerfully, nudging him. “don’t act like you’re not excited.”

“i’m not excited,” oscar grumbled, though you could see the slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “this is going to be a disaster.”

the weeks leading up to his sisters’ visit flew by, and before you knew it, the monaco apartment was buzzing with excitement. oscar, despite his initial grumbling, was secretly thrilled to have his sisters visit—though he wouldn’t admit it outright.

“do you think they’ll like it here?” oscar asked nervously as he placed snacks on the kitchen counter. “i mean, it’s . . . different from home.”

“are you kidding?” you replied, giving him a reassuring smile. “they’re going to love it! monaco’s gorgeous, and they get to spend time with their favorite brother.”

“yeah, but they’re mostly here to spend time with you,” he said, half-joking, half-serious.

“i mean, hattie did say she’s excited to see me,” you teased, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “but you’re not so bad either.”

oscar gave you a playful look, shaking his head. “great. my girlfriend and my sisters, united in their mission to embarrass me.”

just as you were about to respond, the doorbell rang, and oscar stiffened. “they’re here,” he muttered, as if preparing himself for battle.

you laughed, giving him a gentle nudge. “go on, open the door.”

oscar opened the door, and in an instant, the apartment was filled with the sound of his sisters’ excited voices. hattie was the first through the door, pulling oscar into a tight hug before spotting you, rushing over to give you a big hug as well. “it’s so good to finally be here! i’ve been dying to see this place.”

“it’s amazing!” edie chimed in as she stepped inside, looking around in awe. “oscar, you didn’t tell us you were living in this kind of fancy.”

mae followed close behind, wide-eyed and already snapping photos on her phone. “this is insane. i can’t believe we’re in monaco!”

oscar stood there, slightly flustered by the sudden burst of energy, but he managed a small smile. “yeah, it’s . . . different from home, huh?”

“just a bit,” hattie said with a smirk. “you’re really living the high life now, oscar.”

“okay, okay, let’s not make a big deal out of it,” oscar muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

but over the next few days, his sisters made sure to make a big deal out of everything. the apartment was filled with laughter and playful teasing, and oscar—despite his constant groaning—was clearly enjoying having his family around.

“remember when oscar tried to teach himself how to juggle and ended up with a black eye?” edie brought up one afternoon, and you nearly spat out your drink from laughing so hard.

“oh, i’d forgotten about that!” hattie chimed in, leaning forward eagerly. “he thought he was so cool, but then bam! right in the face.”

“seriously?” you said between giggles, glancing over at oscar, who was sitting on the couch with his face buried in his hands.

“it wasn’t that bad,” oscar mumbled, though you could tell he was smiling beneath his hands.

“it was pretty bad,” mae teased, snapping a quick photo of oscar with his head down.

“i’m never going to survive this,” oscar muttered, though the warmth in his voice betrayed him. he really did enjoy having his sisters around. and the fact that you all got along so well made it even better.

in that moment, his life actually felt pretty close to perfect.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Closetgate: The Max-tastrophe | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader [Face Claim: None]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Summary: Max finds himself in a very tight situation—literally. Lando is summoned for an emergency extraction, Charles serenades about honor, Y/N fights for her life trying to prove that nothing happened and the boys plan Max's funeral, but hey at least they finally kissed?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Part 4 of my wheel-to-wheel but still in denial series: Masterlist

Y/N never expected this to happen. One moment, she was causing chaos on Instagram with that elevator pic—harmless fun, right? But Max’s confession came out of nowhere, and now she was standing in her apartment, heart pounding.

She barely had time to process the fact that she’d just invited Max over, let alone get ready. Y/N looked down at her oversized, mismatched pajama set, which sported a giant, ridiculous “I Paused My Game to Be Here” T-shirt. Definitely not the “I’ve just confessed to liking my childhood rival” look she was going for.

She barely had time to question her life choices before there was a knock at the door. When she opened it, Max stood there, leaning against the doorframe like he wasn’t about to change everything. He gave her that classic smirk, but something felt different tonight—softer, more uncertain.

“Did you run here or teleport?” she asked, unable to hide her surprise.

“I might have broken a few traffic laws,” he joked, walking in like he hadn’t just sprinted across town. He glanced around her apartment, then at her, still wearing her gaming shirt. "Nice shirt, by the way," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Verstappen. I didn’t expect you to break the sound barrier to get here.” Max chuckled, plopping down on her couch like he belonged there. "You texted, I ran. It's the natural order of things."

"You actually came," she blurted, mostly because she didn’t know what else to say. The second the words left her mouth, she realized how ridiculous they sounded. "You told me to," Max shot back, stepping inside without missing a beat. "What, did you think I’d say no?"

"I don’t know! Maybe?" she stammered, closing the door behind him. "This whole thing is weird!" 

"Weird how?" Max turned to face her, looking genuinely confused. "Because I confessed or because you didn’t see it coming?"

Y/N groaned, throwing her hands up. "Both! Max, we’ve spent most of our lives arguing over who’s funnier and which one of us sucks more. And now you’re telling me you like me? You don’t just drop that bomb and act like everything’s normal!"

Max shrugged, trying to act casual, but there was something in his eyes that made Y/N’s stomach flip. "I’m not saying it’s normal. I’m saying it’s real. We joke around because that’s us. But I like you, Y/N. I’ve liked you for years. I just didn’t want to mess up what we had."

Y/N’s mind was racing. She couldn’t reconcile the Max in front of her with the one who used to relentlessly call her out on social media. “So, what? You’ve been secretly into me while roasting me all these years? And I’m just supposed to be like, ‘Yeah, cool, let’s date now?’”

Max smiled, but it wasn’t his usual cocky grin. It was softer, more vulnerable. "I get it. It sounds insane. But I’m serious. When I saw that post, Y/N… I thought you had someone else. And it hit me harder than I expected. I realized I didn’t want to just be the guy you bicker with online. I wanted more than that."

She stared at him, still processing. "So, you’re telling me this now because of one random photo?"

"It wasn’t just the photo," Max said, stepping closer. "It was the idea that I’d waited too long. That I might have missed my shot."

Her heart skipped a beat. This was getting real, fast. Y/N crossed her arms, more to protect herself from the flood of emotions than anything else. "Max… I don’t know what to say."

Max chuckled lightly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck—a nervous habit she’d noticed over the years. "You don’t have to say anything. I just couldn’t keep pretending anymore."

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. There was something so raw and honest about him right now, and it was messing with her. This was Max—her partner in social media wars, her favorite person to annoy. And now, he was standing in her living room, confessing feelings that she didn’t know how to handle.

Finally, she let out a breathy laugh. "You’re really bad at timing, you know that? I was just getting used to us hating each other."

Max’s smile widened. "We never hated each other, Y/N."

"Sure felt like it sometimes," she muttered, though there was no bite behind her words. She was too busy trying to sort through the tangled mess of emotions in her head.

"Come on," he teased softly. "You know we’ve always had a thing."

"A thing?" Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so insulting each other in public and trolling each other on Instagram was just our way of flirting?"

Max stepped closer, and this time, there was no teasing in his voice. "For me, yeah. That’s always been part of it. But it’s more than that."

Max says with a shrug. “I like you because you're chaotic and you keep me on my toes. Plus, I figured all the teasing was basically foreplay.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!” She grabbed a throw pillow and launched it at him. “That is not how that works!”

Max laughed, catching the pillow and tossing it aside. “Hey, if it’s not, it should be! We’ve been bantering for years—it’s basically flirting with extra steps.”

She facepalmed, letting out a frustrated groan. “This is so not how I expected this conversation to go. You’re taking all of this way too casually!”

Y/N’s heart was beating so loud she was sure he could hear it. "Max, this is a lot. I didn’t… I didn’t expect this."

"I know." His voice was soft now, almost unsure. "But I had to tell you. I’ve been holding it in for so long, and I thought—"

"That you’d shoot your shot now?" she cut in, trying to lighten the mood even though her head was spinning.

He grinned, finally relaxing a bit. "Exactly. You can’t blame me for that, right?"

She bit her lip, trying to hide a smile. "I guess not. But… Max, I—"

He raised a hand, stopping her. "You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted to be honest. For once."

Y/N sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on her. "But here’s the thing… I kinda, sorta like you too." The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she immediately wanted to crawl into a hole.

Max blinked, then his smile widened into something she’d never seen before—completely genuine and warm. "Kinda, sorta, huh?"

She rolled her eyes, though her heart was flipping. "Don’t make this weird."

"Too late," Max said, stepping even closer, his voice playful but soft. "You’ve already made it weird."

Y/N groaned. "You’re impossible."

"And you like me anyway," Max shot back with a grin, his face just inches from hers now.

Y/N sighed, her defenses finally crumbling as she looked up at him. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Y/N sat down beside him, feeling the weight of the situation settle in. She looked at him—his stupid grin, his messy hair, his absolute lack of any chill—and suddenly it all clicked. This wasn’t some weird joke or prank. Max actually meant every word.

"Okay," she said slowly, still processing. "But I reserve the right to make fun of you for the rest of our lives."

Max grinned, scooting closer. “Deal. But you should know, I’m not backing down. Now that I’ve made my move, I’m all in.”

“God, you’re so dramatic,” Y/N muttered, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Well, you kinda like me that way,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes. But deep down, she knew he was right.

Before she could say anything else, Max leaned down, his lips brushing hers in the softest, most unexpected kiss. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that swept her off her feet or made fireworks explode, but it was perfect. It was exactly what she didn’t know she needed.

When he pulled back, he was still smiling, his hand lingering on her cheek. "Told you we’ve always had a thing."

Y/N was too flustered to argue, her mind still reeling from everything that had just happened. "Okay," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. "But don’t think this changes anything. I’m still gonna kick your ass at karting ."

Max chuckled, pulling her into his arms. "I wouldn’t expect anything less."

They kissed again, and this time it was longer, more intense. Y/N felt herself melting into Max’s arms, his hands gently resting on her waist as he pulled her closer. She could feel the warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart under her fingertips as her hands slid up to his chest. His lips were soft but insistent, and there was a tenderness in the way he kissed her, as if he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than she had imagined.

Her hands slipped up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and Max responded instantly, deepening the kiss in a way that made her head spin. For a few blissful seconds, all the banter, the teasing, and the chaos of their lives disappeared, leaving only the two of them and the unspoken tension that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface.

When they finally pulled apart, slightly breathless, Y/N looked up at him, trying to steady her pounding heart. Max's lips were still curved into a small, satisfied smile, and his thumb absentmindedly traced the side of her hip.

“You know,” she started, trying to regain her composure, “if you’re going to stay, I could, uh, make some space on the couch.”

Max raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning in full force. “You want me to spend the night?”

Her face heated instantly, but she refused to let him see her squirm. “Don’t get too excited, Verstappen.” She poked him in the chest, narrowing her eyes playfully. “No funny business. It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a last-minute confession for me to invite you to my bed.”

Max chuckled, his laugh low and sending a ripple of warmth down her spine. He leaned in, his voice dropping to that maddening, teasing tone she was starting to realize she might actually like. “Oh, I wasn’t planning on funny business, Y/N.” His lips brushed her ear, making her shiver slightly. “I’m gonna wine and dine you, take my time. By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me to come to bed.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at his words, and she smacked his arm, trying to play it cool, though her heart was practically doing somersaults. “Begging?” she repeated, a disbelieving laugh escaping her. “You’ve officially lost your mind.”

Max, completely unbothered, grinned like the cat who caught the canary. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“God, I’m going to regret this,” Y/N muttered, though a smile tugged at her lips.

“Only if I don’t get the chance to prove you wrong,” Max shot back smoothly, his arm casually wrapping around her waist as if they’d done this a hundred times before.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through her. “Fine. You get the couch. And maybe—maybe—we’ll see about that whole wining and dining thing later.”

Max leaned back, stretching out on the couch with that same cocky grin. “Challenge accepted.”

Text Message between Y/N and Lando:

y/n: LANDO I’M GONNA DIE. y/n: LIKE ACTUAL DEATH. COME TO MY APARTMENT NOW.

lando: huh??? lando: it’s 8am, woman chill lando: also why is this my problem

y/n: CHARLES IS HERE y/n: HE SHOWED UP AT 7AM AND HASN’T SHUT UP FOR AN HOUR y/n: He’s on a WHOLE monologue about "family honor" y/n: I AM GOING TO JUMP OUT THE WINDOW IF YOU DON’T HELP ME

lando: and again lando: why… is this my problem? 💀

y/n: BECAUSE MAX IS HIDING IN MY CLOSET, LANDO y/n: IF CHARLES FINDS HIM HERE, I’M GONNA NEED TO WRITE A EULOGY y/n: HELP

lando: … lando: hold up HOLD UP MAX IS WHERE NOW???

y/n: CLOSET. MAX IS IN THE CLOSET. y/n: LIKE. LITERALLY HIDING IN MY CLOSET RIGHT NOW BECAUSE CHARLES IS RANTING ABOUT THE ELEVATOR PICTURE

y/n: AND IF CHARLES FINDS HIM HERE HE’LL LITERALLY COMMIT MURDER!!!

y/n: HURRY UP AND GET HERE I NEED A DISTRACTION y/n: HE’S GOING TO KILL US BOTH AND THEN DRAG OUR BODIES THROUGH THE STREETS OF MONACO

lando: LMFAOOO NOT MAX HIDING IN THE CLOSET LIKE HE’S IN A TEEN ROMCOM 💀 lando:  YOU AND MAX?? 

lando: Wait so like. Did you two… y’know? 👀

y/n: NO NO NO IT’S NOT LIKE THAT, I SWEAR. y/n: WE DID NOT HOOK UP. NOTHING HAPPENED. y/n: but if charles finds him he’s not gonna believe that, you KNOW how dramatic he is

lando: Then why’s he in your closet, huh?

lando: You’re telling me you two were just doing nothing at 7am, and now he’s hiding from your overprotective brother??

lando: This is sus af 💀

y/n: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NOTHING HAPPENED. y/n: He came over to… uh… talk? y/n: BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT!! HURRY THE HELL UP BEFORE CHARLES GOES FULL "BIG BROTHER PROTECTOR MODE" AND THINKS THE WORST

lando: Soooo Max just "talks" now? Sure, sure. Just casually talking at 7am at your apartment. lando: I bet he was gonna give you a "lecture" of his own, wasn’t he? 😉

y/n: I’M GOING TO BLOCK YOU IF YOU DON’T STOP.

y/n: HURRY UP, LANDO.

lando: yeah your brother’s gonna yeet Max into the Mediterranean Sea 💀 lando: this is absolutely gold lando: I’m grabbing popcorn, one sec

y/n: STOP JOKING I’M SERIOUS LANDO y/n: CHARLES IS GOING ON ABOUT “RESPECT” AND “TRADITION” LIKE WE’RE IN A DAMN PERIOD DRAMA y/n: HURRY UP AND GET HIM OUT OF HERE. CHA IS LITERALLY OUT HERE RAMBLING ABOUT "RESPECTING FAMILY HONOR."

lando: Fiiiine, I’m getting out of bed. lando: But seriously, Max? Who would have guessed? That’s hilarious. You could’ve picked a better hiding spot tho 💀

y/n: YOU THINK I HAD TIME TO COORDINATE A BETTER PLAN WHEN CHARLES SHOWED UP OUT OF NOWHERE???

lando: You could’ve gone with like… under the bed? Maybe pretend he’s a delivery guy? 😂 lando: Closet’s too obvious, mate. Rookie mistake.

y/n: OKAY, SPYMASTER LANDO, HOW ABOUT YOU FOCUS ON GETTING HERE AND NOT ON MY HIDING STRATEGIES?

lando: wait sooooo lando: MAX REALLY STAYED OVER?? 👀 lando: I’M TELLING YOU, I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING BETWEEN YOU TWO. YOU DON’T HIDE IN CLOSETS FOR JUST ANYONE, SIS

y/n: WE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING LANDO. I SWEAR TO GOD. y/n: BUT IF YOU DON’T GET HERE, CHARLES IS GONNA ASSUME THE WORST AND START DIGGING A GRAVE

lando: fine fine I’m coming 💀 lando: this is too good tho, I’m never letting you live this down lando: if Charles finds Max it’s gonna be like “sooo, Max, wanna explain why you’re hiding in my sister’s closet like a serial killer?”

y/n: LANDO. I WILL BLOCK YOU. y/n: JUST GET HERE NOW, BEFORE I HAVE TO FAKE MY OWN DEATH TO ESCAPE THIS SITUATION

lando: can’t wait to see you try to explain why Max is suddenly living in your closet 😭😭 lando: tell Charles Max is helping you with a home renovation or some shit 💀 lando: I’ll be there soon to save your ass

y/n: IF YOU DON’T HURRY, IT’LL BE MY FUNERAL YOU’RE COMING TO. y/n: I’M NOT KIDDING, LANDO. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

lando: Yeah yeah I’m on it.

lando: But if Max survives this, I wanna be best man at the wedding 🥂

lando created a group

lando added Y/N, max, daniel, george and alex to the group

lando has changed the name of the group to “Drive to Survive: Closet Edition”

lando: EMERGENCY GROUP CHAT. STOP EVERYTHING. 🚨

george: Bro, it’s like 9AM. What now??

alex: Bro, what is it this time?? Did you lose your keys again? 💀

daniel:  Lando, I swear to God, if this is about you locking yourself out of your car again, I’m leaving the group chat.

lando: NO. BIGGER. MUCH BIGGER. lando: I had to save Max’s life this morning. 😳

max: lando, if you even—

lando: MAX WAS HIDING IN Y/N’S CLOSET THIS MORNING.

y/n: LANDO, I SWEAR TO GOD—

george: HOLD ON. Max was hiding in what now?? george: MAX. HIDING. IN Y/N’S CLOSET?! 💀

alex: WAIT WAIT WAIT. MAX?! IN HER CLOSET?? alex: Sounds like an F1 driver version of "Narnia." 🦁 alex: But instead of a lion, you found… Max?

daniel: Wait, hold on. HOLD UP.

daniel: Max was hiding? In Y/N’s closet?

daniel: Were you two… busy? 👀

daniel: This is starting to sound like the setup to a very different kind of movie, if you know what I mean… 

lando: RIGHT?! Closet boy Max out here sneaking around at 7AM.

y/n: NOTHING HAPPENED. y/n: CHARLES SHOWED UP OUT OF NOWHERE AND MAX HAD TO HIDE OR HE’D BE DEAD.

lando: She’s underselling it. Charles was out here talking about "honor" like we were back in medieval times.

max: she’s not wrong, charles had murder in his eyes talking about Y/N’s hypothetical boyfriend

george: So, you’re telling me Max was hiding in Y/N’s closet because big bro Charles was about to lose his mind? george: LMAO Max, mate, you were this close to becoming roadkill at the next race.

george: This is gold. Max, you hiding like a teenage boy sneaking out of a girl’s room?! How much were you sweating?

max: look, it was either the closet or death by leclerc

alex: Soooo... you were hiding because…? 👀

alex: If Charles finds out, he’s definitely running Max off the track next race. alex: Or worse, he’ll crash right into him. 💀

daniel: Run him off the track? Charles would straight-up crash into Max next race, no questions asked. 💀

george: Mate, can you imagine? Lap 20: "Verstappen crashes after mysterious contact with Leclerc." 🤔

george: "Sources say Charles Leclerc was last seen revving his engine and screaming about his sister’s honor."

daniel: Bro, I can already see the headlines: "Verstappen DNF—Cause: Leclerc Rage." daniel: Max would be like, "I’m innocent!" while Charles just revs the engine like, "Try me bitch."

lando: Charles would be all smiles in the press conference like, "It was an unfortunate incident…" lando: Meanwhile, Max’s car would still be smoldering in the background.

max: ngl, he’d probably reverse just to make sure it’s done right 😬

alex: "Accident," sure, Charles. I’m sure brake checking Max into the wall was totally accidental.

daniel: Sooo… why were you hiding, Max? 👀 daniel: Closet redecoration? Or were you two getting cozy? 😏

lando: Oh, come on, there’s no hiding in closets unless something was happening. Let’s be real here. 👀

max: look, i was just… you know… max: avoiding death by overprotective brothers. that’s all.

george: Sure, Max. Just avoiding "death"… by hiding in her closet. Sounds innocent. Totally.

alex: Did you fold her clothes while you were in there, or just admire the view? 😂

daniel: Oh, we’re calling it "admiring the view" now, huh?

max: you guys have dirty minds, jesus

lando: Bro, you were literally in her closet. This is peak suspicious behavior.

y/n: NOTHING HAPPENED. y/n: STOP MAKING THIS WEIRD. 🙃

lando: Y/N, babe, you don’t just shove someone in your closet for no reason. There’s something here.

daniel: Yeah, like… what were you two really doing before Charles showed up? 👀 daniel: C’mon, no one hides someone unless they’re in the middle of… something.

y/n: I swear to god, if one more person suggests anything—

max: maybe i was just there to give her fashion advice 🤷‍♂️

george: OH, so that’s what they’re calling it now? "Fashion advice." Sounds steamy.

daniel: So what’d you suggest, Max? "Less clothes"? 😏

y/n: I’M LITERALLY GOING TO MUTE THIS CHAT. NOTHING HAPPENED.

lando: Uh-huh. Sure. lando: You don’t just casually invite Max over to give you "advice" in the early hours of the morning unless something’s going on. Just saying. 😉

daniel: I mean, I’d hide Max too if he showed up like that… 👀

alex: "Like that"? Sounds like Max was already halfway to being undressed. 💀

y/n: YOU GUYS ARE THE WORST.

max: you get used to it after a while

lando: Okay, okay, jokes aside… are you two, like, officially a thing now?

max: yeah, y/n and i… we’re seeing where this goes. officially.

george: OMG, IT'S HAPPENING. MAX AND Y/N ARE OFFICIALLY A THING. 🎉

lando: SOUND THE ALARMS, EVERYONE. lando: We’ve got ourselves a new grid couple. 👀

daniel: Ahhh, the "closet inchident" seals the deal. Love it. You Leclerc’s sure do love your Inchidents

alex: Soooo… have you told Charles yet? Or do we get to keep this secret and watch the chaos unfold?

y/n: ABSOLUTELY NOT. NONE OF YOU SAY A WORD. y/n: Do you WANT Max to end up in a wall at Monza?!

george: Max already looks like he’s preparing his will. 😂

max: pretty sure charles will crash into me on lap 1 if he finds out too early

daniel: I mean, Charles is gonna "accidentally" forget how to brake if he finds out Max’s been sneaking around his sister. 💀

lando: Yeah, next race? You’re gonna see Charles giving Max the death stare before they even get to Turn 1.

max: I’ll be lucky if I don’t get run off the track before lap 10

alex: Charles be like, "Oh sorry, did I cut across your line? Total accident, mate."

george: Imagine Arthur joining in, double-teaming Max on the straights. 💀

alex: "Sorry mate, but family’s family."

daniel: Max, if Charles finds out you were in her closet, he’s coming for you both on and off the track. No question.

lando: I can see it now—Max and Y/N in the paddock: "Charles, listen, it’s not what it looks like!" Meanwhile, Charles is just revving the engine, ready to take you out. 😂

max: and here i thought the danger was over when i left her apartment

alex: Bro, the danger just began. Charles is about to add "track rage" to his skillset.

daniel: "Oh, Max? Never heard of him. My car just had a mind of its own today." daniel: RIP Verstappen 1997-2024 💀

lando: You’ll go down as a legend, Max. "The man who was brave enough to date a Leclerc and live to tell the tale."

max: that’s if i make it past monza

y/n: YOU’RE ALL DRAMATIC.

george: Dramatic? Us? No way. george: I’m just saying, you better have a solid excuse ready when Charles finds out.

y/n: We’ll tell him eventually. Just… not now. y/n: And until then, if any of you open your big mouths, Max’s blood is on your hands.

daniel: So, what’s the plan? Keep hiding Max in your closet until you tell Charles? 💀

y/n: technically, yes.

y/n: But until then, NONE OF YOU SAY A WORD. LET ME HANDLE THIS.

lando: I mean… if I accidentally let it slip, is that on me or on the fact that Max was literally hiding in a CLOSET? 🤔

max: thanks lando, really appreciate it

daniel: Don’t worry, Max, we’ll make sure your funeral’s nice. Real classy. 💐

alex: I’ll bring flowers. Something dramatic, like roses. 🌹

george has changed the name of the group to “Max's Funeral Planning Committee"

george: Should we do slow-mo highlights of Max’s best overtakes at his funeral? Maybe some sad violin music?

lando: I’m picturing Max’s ghost standing next to Charles, watching the replays like, "Really? This is how I go out?" 💀

y/n: YOU’RE ALL INSANE. STOP JOKING ABOUT THIS.

george: We’ll make sure it’s an open casket. But, you know, open… after Charles crashes into it.

y/n: I’M BLOCKING ALL OF YOU.

lando: Can’t imagine how you'd even explain Max’s sudden appearance in your wardrobe to Charles. "He’s just helping with interior design, bro!" 😂

max: okay okay, enough. max: but for real, don’t tell charles anything yet.

daniel: Sure, we’ll keep the secret. For now. But we want front-row seats when you break the news.

y/n: Let me handle it before anyone here decides to run their big mouth.

lando: Big mouth? Me? Never. 😉

george: You know, this whole "keeping it secret" thing feels very Romeo and Juliet.

lando: Yeah but without the poison, please.

daniel: More like, Romeo hiding in Juliet’s closet while her brother lectures her for an hour. 😂

alex: "Romeo, why are you still in that closet?" alex: "Shhh, Charles will kill me."

max: i hate you all

alex: Don’t worry, Max. We’ll be at the next race, just in case Charles accidentally loses his brakes. 😂

y/n: You’re all the worst. 🙄

lando: Max, you better not be hiding in anyone else’s closet anytime soon. lando: Or else this group chat’s gonna have to upgrade to "Max’s Closet Chronicles: The Sequel."

y/n: Don’t give him ideas.

george: Max: Professional F1 Driver by day, Closet Houdini by night. 😭

max: i hate you all

y/n: Welcome to the club.

daniel: This is gonna be legendary.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[sweettu1ips]

PAIGE BUECKERS x FEM!READER

SYNOPSIS: Two souls, separated by time, find their way back in a quiet moment, where unspoken words flicker like stars between them, a promise that they were never truly apart.

WARNING(S): fluffy ⋮ reunion ⋮ reader is brunette ⋮ not seeing/ speaking to Paige for three years ⋮ tension ⋮ slow-burn ⋮ childhood friends-to-lover ⋮ readers last name is LEXINGTON ⋮ changed Paige's siblings names for a good reason but her parent's names remain the same ⋮ FYI, I'VE NEVER BEEN TO MARTHA'S VINEYARD. THEREFORE, I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S THERE. ALSO, MOST PLACES ARE MADE UP HERE :)

WORD COUNT: 16.7K ( another long one :p )

| P. TWO ⋮ WOTVB SERIES ⋮ MAIN MASTER LIST |

MARTHA'S VINEYARD—an island suspended in time, steeped in golden summers and salt-laced laughter, a sacred place woven into the fabric of the Bueckers and Lexingtons.

 It was never just a destination; it was a ritual, a tether, a second home built not of walls and roofs but of traditions and tangled histories. Every year, without fail, we returned—drawn back by something deeper than obligation, something stitched into our very marrow. 

A legacy carved from decades of sun-drenched Julys and twilight bonfires, from fathers who once met as high school boys and forged a brotherhood strong enough to span generations.

Except, I hadn’t set foot on its familiar shores in nearly three years. Three summers lost to the unrelenting tide of distance, of duty, of a life that had gradually reshaped itself into something unrecognizable. Washington—the state of endless pines, of mist and mountains, of cold rain drumming against my dorm window—had claimed me.

 College had swallowed me whole, my days consumed by the relentless pursuit of knowledge, my nights tangled in the exhaustion of work and deadlines. The thought of leaving, of carving out time for something as indulgent as nostalgia, had always felt impossible.

Until now.

Because Wren would not have it.

"If you don’t show up to my wedding, I’ll come to Seattle myself and drag you down here."

The words, scrawled in bold, unwavering black ink, were etched at the bottom of the invitation box—the one that held the ultimate question, poised to demand my presence: Will you be my Maid of Honor?

Three years. Three years since I had last seen the Bueckers, the people who had once been as constant in my life as breath itself. But most of all—three years since I had seen her. Paige.

The others, I had managed to hold on to in some way or another—occasional messages, late-night check-ins, moments stitched together with just enough care to keep the thread from snapping completely. But Paige and I? We had unraveled. And it was my fault.

Once, she had been my shadow, or maybe I had been hers. Two girls moving in synchronized rhythm, seamlessly intertwined, never questioning the certainty of each other’s presence. But distance is a cruel, insidious thing. It starts slow—missed calls, unanswered texts—until one day, you wake up and realize the silence has settled in like an old tenant, comfortable and unchallenged.

I had gotten too busy with life. Too caught up in the deadlines, the obligations, the relentless forward motion of everything. Until, before I even knew it, the space between us had stretched too far to reach across.

We had gone from next-door neighbors in Minnesota, where our lives bled together in a seamless blur of backyard games and whispered secrets, to existing in entirely different worlds. 

She was in Connecticut, chasing the dream she had been born for, carving her name into UConn’s legacy one game at a time. 

And I—thousands of miles away in Washington, buried beneath textbooks and the intricate calculations of an engineering degree—had let the days slip through my fingers like sand, until Paige was nothing more than a memory softened at the edges.

And now, I was going back.

Back to the island where our laughter still echoed in the dunes, where our past selves still lived, preserved in the salt-stung air. Back to the place where it had all started.

But the question lingered, heavy and unspoken:

Would we still know each other?

The summer sun dripped gold through the open sunroof, sinking its warmth deep into my skin, coaxing a slow, lazy heat that stretched through my limbs. 

The salty breeze curled through the car like an old friend, thick and briny, laced with something sweet—maybe the distant scent of waffle cones from the ice cream shop or the faint perfume of beach roses growing wild along the shore. 

The road hummed beneath the tires, the distant cry of seagulls weaving through the melody of Surf Curse thrumming from the speakers.

Martha’s Vineyard.

A place stitched into my bones, etched into the softest parts of my childhood, my adolescence, my becoming. 

A place where salt clung to bare skin, where the air was always rich with the scent of melting sunscreen and freshly brewed coffee, where the rhythm of the waves was a constant lullaby, steady and unchanging. 

It had been three years, yet as I drove these familiar streets, it felt like no time had passed at all. And still, everything had changed.

Everyone had arrived yesterday—well, not quite everyone. Wren had insisted on a week of just us, just like old times, carving out a pocket of quiet before the storm of the wedding swept through.

 No chaos, no rehearsals, no distant relatives lingering like ghosts at the edges of the house. Just us. The way it had always been.

Except this time, Carson—the man who would soon be my brother-in-law—was folded into that sacred space, a new presence settling into the history we’d built here.

And me? I was late. A day behind.

A crumpled UW sweatshirt lay forgotten in the back of the rented Bronco, abandoned in favor of the striped blue tube top clinging to my sun-warmed skin. 

My hair, heavy with the day’s heat, was twisted into a claw clip, though a few stubborn strands had slipped free, framing my face in loose waves. 

The weight of exhaustion pressed into me—seven hours of travel, a ferry ride that rocked me into something close to sleep, the ache of a body that had spent too much time folded into cramped seats and airport terminals. But it didn’t matter now.

I was here.

I slowed as I passed the places that had once been second nature, my gaze tracing their outlines like reading the pages of an old, beloved book. 

The little bookstore, its sun-faded awning drooping slightly at the edges, its wooden sign still creaking softly in the breeze. The café with its sprawling deck, where people sipped iced coffee and watched the world pass by, their faces kissed by the golden light of late afternoon. 

The weathered ice cream shop, where Wren and I had once pressed sticky fingers to the glass, deliberating between flavors as if it were the most important decision of our lives.

And then—there it was.

The Honeycomb Garden.

It stood just as I remembered, its cream-colored façade softened by years of salt air, its windows spilling over with cascading blooms in every shade imaginable. A riot of color, a symphony of scent.

 Every summer, without fail, my mother, Wren, and I had made this stop—a quiet ritual, an unspoken promise. We would step inside, breathing in the floral air, fingers trailing over delicate petals as we searched for the perfect bouquet to bring home. 

The scent of it would fill the beach house, settling into its walls, marking the official start of summer.

I pulled onto the curb, the tires crunching softly against the pavement, and turned off the engine. The absence of music made the world feel suddenly still, the only sounds the distant cry of gulls and the faint hum of life moving around me.

With a sigh, I stepped out, stretching my arms overhead, letting the tension slip from my body as the sun pressed hot and unyielding against my skin. 

The breeze carried the scent of flowers and saltwater, a combination so achingly familiar that it made something in my chest tighten.

The little brass bell above the door chimed as I stepped inside, a sound so deeply ingrained in my memory that it sent a shiver down my spine.

And then—

“Well, if it isn’t little Y/N!”

Kristy’s voice rang across the shop, warm and rich with familiarity, as if no time had passed at all.

She stood behind the sage-green counter, her green eyes crinkling at the edges as she set down a bundle of pale pink peonies. The scent of them curled through the air—delicate, sweet, tinged with something almost honey-like.

“Miss Kristy.” I grinned, stepping forward just as she rounded the counter, her sunflower-printed sundress swaying gently with each step. White sandals. A brown apron dusted with tiny petals. The same, yet different.

“Oh, my dear,” she sighed, her arms opening before I could say another word.

The hug was tight, the kind that settled deep into the bones, the kind that felt like home. She smelled of lavender and sun-warmed earth, of afternoons spent here, hands buried in stems and petals. I held onto her just as tightly, letting the moment stretch.

Her hair, once long and cascading over her shoulders, had been cut into a neat bob, silver strands glinting in the light. She pulled back slightly, her hands resting on my arms as she studied me with an almost motherly softness.

“How have you been?” she asked, eyes searching mine. “It’s been, what? Three years?”

I nodded, exhaling a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah… a long time, huh?”

My gaze flickered around the shop, tracing every familiar corner, every vase overflowing with fresh blooms.

As if anything had changed.

As if everything had.

Her smile unfurled like the petals of a morning bloom, soft and familiar, her laughter laced with warmth as her fingers lingered in a gentle squeeze against my elbows. 

Fine creases gathered at the edges of her eyes, a quiet testament to years of sun and salt and soft, knowing glances. She studied me once more, head tilting slightly, the corners of her mouth tugging upward in that effortless way only she could manage.

“A little too long,” she murmured, a teasing lilt threading through her words, though there was something wistful beneath it. “Look at you! I think that Washington rain has washed away your sun-kissed glow.”

I huffed a small laugh, rolling my eyes even as I reached up instinctively to push back a loose strand of hair. “Unfortunately,” I admitted, a breath of a chuckle escaping me.

And then—something shifted. A flicker of recollection sparked in her gaze, her brows arching in sudden remembrance as her ears seemed to perk up.

“Oh! I just remembered—”

She released me, already turning on her heel, her sundress swaying with the movement. The scent of her floral perfume—jasmine and something faintly citrus—whispered through the air, lingering even as she disappeared behind the counter.

Her voice, ever honeyed and rich with familiarity, carried through the small shop, weaving through the blooms and filling the space with its warmth.

“Your mom placed an order yesterday—well, last night, actually,” she called out, her tone softening as she rummaged for something unseen. “Your dear brother was supposed to pick ‘em up.”

A knowing pause.

I could almost see the amused tilt of her head before she even emerged.

“But, I’m sure he’s still asleep.” A quiet laugh followed, a sound like wind chimes caught in a summer breeze.

My gaze flicked to the old clock mounted on the wall, its delicate hands frozen at 12:14 PM. My lips pressed into a thin, bemused line.

“Yep. Definitely still asleep.” I exhaled, shaking my head with a small smirk.

Miss Kristy reappeared, carefully cradling a bouquet wrapped in brown kraft paper, her fingertips gently smoothing over the edge as if the flowers themselves deserved the kind of tenderness only she could give.

It was so my mother.

A sunlit embrace of yellow dahlias and crisp white begonias, the colors as familiar as home itself. I reached forward, drawing the bouquet closer, my fingers brushing against the delicate petals as I traced the softness beneath my touch. The scent—fresh, bright, subtly sweet—bloomed in the air, stirring something deep in my chest.

Miss Kristy let out a knowing chuckle, shaking her head with a sigh.

I glanced up at her, hesitating for just a moment before clearing my throat.

“Uh—actually…” I started, shifting my weight slightly. “Do you maybe have any purple tulips?”

Her head tilted, her brows knitting together in quiet surprise.

“No lilies today?” she mused, her voice touched with curiosity, knowing well that lilies were my usual choice.

I smirked, shrugging. “Gotta expand my taste, right?”

A breath of laughter passed through her lips, the kind that was light and effortless, like the rustling of leaves in a soft breeze.

“Well,” she mused, tapping a finger against her chin, “I believe I have some tucked away in the back. I don’t think I’ve put them out yet.”

With that, she turned, vanishing once more into the depths of the shop.

The air seemed to hum in her absence, thick with the scent of blooms and the weight of nostalgia pressing gently against my ribs. I leaned an elbow against the counter, my fingers grazing the rim of a nearby vase as I waited, my gaze sweeping over the kaleidoscope of flowers before me.

Even after all this time, even after three years away, this place still felt like an inhale after a long-held breath.

Miss Kristy emerged from the back, her presence as effortless as a petal drifting on a summer breeze. She cradled the bouquet in her arms as if holding something sacred, her fingers gently adjusting the delicate stems before offering them to me with a warm, knowing smile.

“Ah! Here you are,” she hummed, her voice carrying that familiar lilt of affection. She tilted her head, the corners of her lips curling as she reached down, pulling a sheet of brown kraft paper from beneath the counter. “Just the tulips, sweets?”

I nodded, the scent of the shop thick around me—roses in full bloom, the crisp, green sharpness of eucalyptus, and the soft, honeyed whisper of baby’s breath. The air felt heavy with nostalgia, pressing against my ribs in a way that made my chest ache.

“Yes, please,” I murmured, slipping my hands into the deep pockets of my linen pants, fingers brushing against the leather of my wallet as I moved to fetch it.

But before I could pull it free, the warmth of Miss Kristy’s hand settled over mine—gentle, firm, a touch that spoke of quiet insistence. I stilled, glancing up to find her shaking her head, a knowing twinkle in her eyes.

“This one's on the house, dear,” she said, her voice soft but resolute, a grin tugging at her lips. “A welcome home gift.”

I blinked, caught somewhere between gratitude and protest, my brows furrowing as I opened my mouth. “What—no—Miss Kristy, I can’t—”

But she leveled me with a sharp, playful glare, the kind that had the power to silence even the most stubborn of arguments. I shut my lips so tightly they barely parted when I exhaled.

“No buts,” she said, her tone firm, her gaze unwavering. “I insist.”

“Miss Kristy—” I tried again, shaking my head, the start of another argument forming at the tip of my tongue.

And so it began—the back-and-forth, me refusing, her countering with the patience of a woman who had won this battle many times before. A well-worn dance, choreographed by years of familiarity.

But in the end, I caved.

With a sigh and a slow, yielding smile, I raised my hands in surrender, cradling the dahlias in one arm. “Fine,” I exhaled, the breath leaving my lips like a quiet breeze. “But next time, I’m paying, m’kay?” I arched a brow at her, my voice teasing but lined with sincerity.

Miss Kristy chuckled, shaking her head as she carefully handed me the tulips, their petals soft as silk beneath my fingertips. She turned to tidy the counter, momentarily distracted—and that’s when I moved.

With careful precision, I tucked a crisp $30 bill beneath the register, sliding it out of sight just as she turned back.

“Alright, off with you now,” she teased, waving a hand as if shooing me away.

I grinned, stepping backward toward the door, my hands full of blooms, my heart full of something unspoken.

“See you later, Miss Kristy.”

But just as I pushed open the glass door, her sharp intake of breath reached me, followed by a voice laced with exasperation.

“Y/N Lexington!”

I turned back just enough to catch her incredulous expression, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the money beneath the register.

But by then, I was already slipping out onto the sunlit pavement, my laughter bubbling up like champagne, light and airy, carrying on the breeze.

“Bye, Miss Kristy!” I called over my shoulder, quickening my pace as I hurried toward the waiting bronc, my feet barely touching the ground.

Through the shop’s wide windows, I caught one last glimpse of her, standing behind the counter with a mix of amusement and feigned frustration painting her face.

The moment felt so fleeting, so tender, like a whisper of summer wind through the trees. I hadn’t even realized how much time had slipped through my fingers until I glanced at my phone, its screen glowing with missed calls and unread messages—most of them from Wren and my mom, though Amy and Lilly had their fair share, too.

Lilly’s texts stood out.

“dude hurry.”

A second one, only minutes later:

“ur moms goin’ crazy ‘cause ur not answering ur phone.”

I sighed, shaking my head as I finally slid into the driver’s seat, the familiar worn leather cool against my palms. The scent of salt lingered in the air, seeping through the cracks of my rolled-down window, mingling with the distant echoes of seagulls and crashing waves. 

I turned the key in the ignition, the soft rumble of the engine grounding me as I set off toward the place that had lived in my memories for far too long—the beach house.

The drive felt surreal. Every turn, every street, every landmark was steeped in nostalgia. The docks stretched out into the water, boats rocking gently against their moorings, their white sails like ghosts against the cerulean sky. People bustled along the boardwalk, laughter spilling from sun-kissed lips, the scent of fried seafood and sunscreen thick in the air.

And yet, as much as I drank in the familiarity of it all, my mind wandered elsewhere.

To her.

The way she used to chase the waves, shrieking as the cold water lapped at her ankles. The way the freckles on her nose darkened in the summer sun, how she always smelled like coconut lotion and salt. The sound of her voice, soft but sure, teasing but kind.

God.

I swallowed hard, pushing the thought away as I rounded the final corner. The beach house stood before me, untouched by time yet somehow different. The long driveway stretched ahead, gravel crunching beneath my tires as I slowly pulled in.

And then—before I could even shift into park—chaos erupted.

The front door burst open, figures spilling out onto the porch like a tidal wave of familiarity.

First, Wren, right on my mom’s heels, her dark curls bouncing as she ran. Then my dad, his usual calm expression cracked open with relief. And behind them, the Bueckers siblings—Diego, Lilly, and Reece—all pushing past one another, racing toward me.

Except for one.

A certain Bueckers kid was missing.

A certain blonde who had been haunting my thoughts more and more with each passing day.

Before I could fully process it, the younger ones broke into a full sprint, feet pounding against the sun-warmed planks of the porch, their laughter spilling into the thick summer air like a song I hadn’t heard in too long. The sound wrapped around me, sweet and familiar, tangled with the scent of salt and sunscreen, of grass crushed beneath bare feet.

"Y/N!"

I barely had time to draw a breath before they crashed into me—a tangle of limbs and warmth, their bodies colliding with the force of a rippling wave, pulling me into the undertow of their embrace. Arms wove around my waist, my shoulders, my back, each squeeze desperate, filled with the kind of unspoken longing that only distance could create.

“Woah—Jesus,” I gasped, stumbling back a step, their collective weight nearly knocking me off balance. My laughter burst out, breathless and tangled with disbelief.

Diego—who had once been small enough to balance on my hip—was now pressing his face into my ribs, arms banded tight around my middle as if afraid I might disappear again.

 Lilly, my little shadow, was suddenly face-to-face with me, her chin digging into my shoulder, her embrace unrelenting, as if trying to pour every ounce of her missed time into this single moment.

 And Reece—once my short, scrappy sidekick—stood taller than me now, his arms hooked firmly around my back, his grip solid and steady, grounding me in the weight of their presence.

I pulled back just enough to take them in, my hands grasping their shoulders, my fingers brushing over the sun-warmed fabric of their t-shirts, the scent of ocean air and childhood summers clinging to them like something sacred. My chest ached with the sheer force of it—of them, of this moment, of home pressing itself back into my bones.

I let out a shaky laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. “What the hell have y’all been eating while I was away?” My eyes darted between them, scanning their faces, trying to reconcile the past with the present. “Seriously—growth hormones? Miracle-gro?”

Lilly giggled, her smile wide enough to crinkle her nose, swiping at her sun-drenched cheeks. “We missed you, dummy.”

Diego nodded so fast it made his dark curls bounce. “So much.”

Ryan smirked, clapping a hand against my shoulder, his grip firm, steady. “Took you long enough to get here.”

I swallowed hard, something warm and unshakable swelling in my chest, curling around my ribs, settling deep in my bones.

"Yeah," I murmured, glancing past them—past the porch, past the gently swaying wind chimes, past the years I had spent away.

"I’m home."

As soon as the words left my lips, something deep within me exhaled—like the tide finally surrendering to the shore, foam-kissed waves melting into the sand after being held away for too long. 

The weight I hadn’t even realized I was carrying settled, dispersing into the thick summer air, where the scent of salt and sun-warmed cedar clung like a second skin.

But before I could fully sink into the feeling, my mother’s voice cut through the moment, warm but edged with that familiar exasperation—the kind laced with love, the kind that had followed me through childhood like a shadow.

"Alright, alright—let her breathe, for God’s sake."

The younger ones groaned but obeyed, their arms unraveling from me with reluctant slowness, like they feared I’d disappear if they let go too soon. 

Diego lingered the longest, his small hands gripping the fabric of my shirt at my waist, fingers tightening as if committing the moment to memory before finally, with a deep breath, stepping back.

And then, there she was.

My mother stood poised on the porch, arms crossed, the setting sun catching on the fine lines near her eyes—the ones carved from years of laughter, worry, and love. Her lips were pressed together, and for a second, it looked like she was about to scold me, but then I saw it—relief, warm and brimming, pooling in the depths of her deep brown eyes like a tide held back too long.

Beside her, my father stood in his usual ease, a lopsided grin stretching across his face. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his faded cargo shorts, as if keeping them there would stop him from pulling me into a hug too soon. 

He rocked back slightly on his heels, his gaze steady, as if reassuring himself that I was really standing here.

And Wren—Wren stood slightly apart, just behind them, arms loosely folded, her expression unreadable at first. But I knew her too well. I knew that tilt of her head, the way her eyes traced me like she was searching for something beneath the surface. 

Wren never just looked at people—she saw them. And right now, she was seeing me, reading between the lines of my posture, my expression, the way my fingers twitched at my sides.

She always saw too much.

I swallowed hard, the weight of it all pressing into my ribs—the porch where barefoot summers had stretched endlessly, where late-night whispers and childhood laughter had been carried off by the wind. 

The people who had filled those summers stood before me now, their faces aged by time but still achingly familiar. 

The scent of salt and sun-warmed cedar curled through the thick, golden air, wrapping around me like an embrace from the past, like something stubborn and unyielding, something that refused to be forgotten.

My mother was the first to move, stepping forward with a slow shake of her head, her expression wavering between exasperation and something far more fragile. Like she was still convincing herself I was real, flesh and bone and not just some distant memory come home to haunt her.

"You didn’t answer your damn phone, Y/N." Her voice cracked, just barely, a thin fracture in the frustration she was trying to hold together.

Guilt crept in, pooling at the edges of my relief. "I know, I know—I got caught up, I—"

I didn’t get the chance to finish before she was pulling me in, her arms a fortress, steady and unshakable, the same way they had always been. The scent of lavender and sun-warmed cotton enveloped me, the press of her fingers threading through my hair, resting at the nape of my neck—gentle, familiar, grounding.

"Next time, answer," she murmured, her voice muffled against my hair, the edges of it frayed with worry. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

A lump formed in my throat, thick and aching, but I forced a smile, my grip tightening around her. "I promise."

She lingered, holding on like she wasn’t quite ready to let go, like she was memorizing the feeling of me in her arms. And then, with a deep breath, she stepped back, her warmth slipping away just as my father pulled me in.

"It's good to see you, kiddo," Dad murmured, pressing a kiss against my temple. His hug was quick but firm, the solid press of his hand against my back grounding me in a way words never could.

 The rough warmth of his palm ruffled my hair, the same way he had when I was twelve—like no time had passed at all, like I had never really left.

And then there was Wren.

She stood apart from the others, her arms folded loosely across her chest, her weight shifted onto one hip, exuding a quiet confidence as if she had all the time in the world. The sunlight caught the engagement ring on her finger, making it gleam like a promise forged in the warmth of the summer day.

 But her eyes—they were a different story. Deep, knowing, unblinking, they scanned me, tracing over every detail as if she were piecing together a puzzle. It was as though she was measuring the gap between the person I had been and the person I had become, silently assessing if the two still fit together, if the distance between them could ever be bridged.

The silence stretched between us, thick and humming, something unspoken pressing against the spaces where words should have been. I felt it in the way her brow pinched, just slightly. In the way she tilted her head, assessing, calculating.

I exhaled sharply, rolling my eyes. "You gonna keep staring, or are you gonna say hi?"

Her lips twitched—barely, a flicker of movement that almost didn’t happen. "Hi."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Unbelievable."

And then, finally, finally, she moved.

The space between us closed in an instant, and when her arms wrapped around me, it wasn’t hesitant or delicate. It was solid, effortless, the kind of hug that wasn’t just a greeting, but a homecoming. Like the last few months hadn’t stretched between us at all. Like time had simply been waiting for us to meet again.

Her voice was muffled against my shoulder, dry but warm. "Welcome back, dumbass."

A breathless laugh escaped me, and I clung to her a little tighter, grounding myself in the familiarity of it all. "Missed you too, asshole."

But when I pulled back, something tugged at the edges of my focus, something missing. My gaze flickered past her, searching—the porch, the doorway, the lingering stretch of golden afternoon light spilling across the wooden steps. My chest tightened as my eyes swept over the familiar scene, looking for a silhouette that wasn’t there.

Wren exhaled before I could even ask. "Beau’s still asleep."

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "Figures."

Even if I already knew.

Still, my search didn’t stop there. My eyes kept moving, scanning past my parents, past the younger ones still tugging at my arms, past the way the wind chimes trembled in the soft, salt-tinged breeze.

Wren saw. Of course, she did.

Her fingers curled briefly around my wrist—a quick, fleeting squeeze—before she let go. "She’s, uhm—out."

That was all she said.

And yet, it was enough to make my stomach twist, enough to make something settle, heavy and wordless, between us.

I nodded slowly, a quiet acceptance neither of us acknowledged out loud. "Right."

Wren offered a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her chocolate brown eyes.

I returned it anyway.

There would be time for that later.

For now, I was home. And for the first time in a long time, that was enough.

The heat pressed against my skin, thick and insistent, as though the sun itself were trying to melt me into the pavement. The air, heavy and sultry, wrapped around me like a thick blanket—saturated with the earthy scent of freshly cut grass and the faintest trace of sea salt, still lingering in the breeze. 

The world felt too much, too alive—too vibrant. The cicadas hummed a constant, vibrating chorus in the trees, their song loud enough to pulse beneath my ribs. The wind, playful and mischievous, fluttered through the hanging chimes, making them sing a hollow, tinny tune that scraped against the air. 

My siblings' laughter echoed in my ears, sharp and bright, filling the space, forcing itself into every corner of my consciousness.

But underneath it all, there was something quieter. Something heavier. A pull deep in my chest, like the last remnants of a storm settling inside me. 

It was a weight I couldn’t shake—one that clung to me with the same stubbornness as the heat, pressing down on my ribs, curling tight around my heart. The world swirled around me, but that feeling remained, persistent and unrelenting.

I shoved it down.

For now.

Reece and Dad were already at my car, moving with ease, pulling my luggage from the trunk. Diego, still a little small and determined, stood beside them, his tiny hands gripping the handle of my suitcase like it was the most important thing in the world. 

I watched as he tugged, his face scrunching up in concentration, muscles straining with the effort—but the bag barely shifted. He planted his feet firmly, giving it another go, a little grunt escaping his lips. Still nothing. The suitcase refused to budge, stubborn and unmoving in his grip.

I couldn’t help it—I bit back a smile.

"Hey, kid," I said, my voice soft but carrying as I stepped toward him, my uggs sinking slightly into the cool earth beneath me. "Think I’m gonna need your help with something way more important."

Diego's wide, innocent eyes flicked up to meet mine, a trace of confusion flickering across his face, like he wasn’t sure if he had heard me right. But the warmth in my tone seemed to settle his doubts, and after a beat, his gaze followed mine toward the passenger seat.

There, wrapped in brown paper, was the bundle of dahlias and begonias—their yellow faces turned toward the sky, their delicate petals whispering with the wind. It was a humble bouquet, nothing extravagant, but it had a beauty in its simplicity.

I nodded toward it. "I need someone very responsible to bring in the flowers. Think you can handle it?"

The shift in his expression was immediate. His eyes widened, and for a split second, I saw the world shift beneath him—he was no longer just the little brother trying to carry my bags. No, now he was entrusted with something precious. He stood taller, his chest puffing out like a proud little rooster, his grin spreading from ear to ear, so wide it almost swallowed his face.

"I got it!" he declared, voice rising with determination, his tiny hands reaching for the flowers with a reverence that made my heart ache a little. His fingers curled gently around the stems, lifting them as if they were made of the finest porcelain. His steps were swift, purposeful, as he marched toward the house, the bouquet cradled against his chest like a secret he was eager to protect.

I watched him go, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. It felt good—no, it felt right—seeing him so proud of something so simple. I reached out, ruffling his dark hair as he passed, the motion soft and affectionate, the way I’d always done. "Good job, kid."

He didn’t hear me, already lost in his mission, but the light in his eyes was all the thanks I needed.

Turning away, I grabbed my duffel bag, the weight of it familiar and grounding, and threw it over my shoulder. 

My fingers brushed the cool metal handle of the suitcase next, and I tugged it free from the car, dragging it along the gravel with a small grunt. As I glanced up, I saw Reece effortlessly lifting the last of my luggage, one hand gripping the handle, the other tucked casually in his pocket as if the suitcase weighed nothing at all.

I smirked, raising an eyebrow. "See you’ve been hitting the gym, huh?"

His grin grew, smug and self-assured. "Yeah, Paige’s been on my ass about going with her." His voice was easy, but I could feel the undercurrent in the words—the way he said it like it was no big deal, but I knew better.

My stomach tightened, a knot forming as her name echoed in my mind. Paige. Just the mention of her sent a ripple of something cold through me. Something I couldn’t quite place, but I could feel it clawing at the edges of my thoughts.

I tried to shake it off, forcing a chuckle as I shifted my weight. "I bet she has."

Reece didn’t seem to notice the shift, his smirk never faltering as he hoisted the luggage with ease. "It’s been good for me," he said with a casual shrug, like it was a normal part of his day.

But as the words hung between us, a sudden heaviness descended. It was in the way he didn’t break eye contact, the way he said her name—so effortlessly, so naturally, like they were in sync, like they were the same.

I swallowed, the tightness in my throat only slightly noticeable as I forced myself to look away.

Dad’s voice called out from the porch, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Is that all?"

Reece, still not picking up on my unease, shot back with a grin. "Nah—got the whole wardrobe in here."

I rolled my eyes and smacked him on the arm. "Real funny, ass hat." My voice was light, but my heart was still beating a little too fast, a little too hard.

Reece only chuckled, stepping aside as I shut the trunk with a resounding thunk. The sound echoed in my chest, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something else had closed too. Something softer, quieter—something I wasn’t ready to face.

Even as I turned toward the house, my mind was still spinning, and one name refused to let go.

It gnawed at me, even though I didn’t want it to.

I swallowed again, trying to push it down, trying to move forward. There was no point in asking Wren now. Not yet. I had just gotten back. I didn’t need to unravel everything all at once.

But something in me ached to know.

Maybe I would ask her later. Maybe I’d ask when the house wasn’t so full, when everything wasn’t so loud. When the air didn’t feel so heavy.

But for now, I would carry this weight in silence. For now, I was home. And maybe that would be enough—for now.

Following Reece into the house felt like stepping into a dream that had been patiently waiting for my return. 

The moment I lifted my gaze, the weight of time pressed against my ribs—not in a suffocating way, but in a way that filled my chest with something warm, something deep, something that whispered, You are home.

Martha’s Vineyard had a way of making the past feel alive. The air was thick with salt and sun, the scent of distant tides curling through the open windows like an embrace. It had been too long, but nothing had truly changed.

 The house stood just as it always had, unwavering in its quiet elegance, its cream-white wooden walls kissed with a hue of baby blue, a color that carried the scent of summer mornings and childhood mischief.

As I stepped over the threshold, nostalgia wrapped around me, tangible as the sea breeze outside. I could almost hear the echoes of my past self—barefoot and reckless, sneaking down these very stairs with Paige at my side, hushed giggles breaking through the night as we slipped out the door, hearts hammering with the thrill of escape. 

The beach had been our sanctuary, the bonfires our altar. 

Some nights, it had been just the two of us, feet sinking into cool sand, waves curling against the shore like a secret whispered between old friends. Other nights, the firelight stretched across miles of coastline, casting flickering shadows over dancing figures, smoke and salt mixing in the air as music pulsed through the dark.

I could still taste the saltwater taffy we had stolen from the pantry at ungodly hours, could still feel the rough wooden railing beneath my palms as I sat on the porch, legs swinging idly while Paige teased me about some long-forgotten crush.

 The ghosts of those nights still lingered here, tucked between the wooden planks, hidden in the corners where moonlight once pooled at our feet.

The house itself breathed with life. Sunlight poured in through the tall windows, golden and endless, illuminating everything it touched—the polished floors, the delicate lace curtains, the picture frames that still lined the walls, frozen moments capturing laughter, love, and the stories of those who had walked these halls before me. 

Some frames adorned the staircase, their glass glinting beneath the Cape Cod sun, reflecting back faces I had memorized like scripture.

And just beyond the glass, past the rolling green lawn, the ocean stretched out like an old promise. The blue of it was sharp enough to make my chest ache.

A burst of laughter broke through the air, pulling me back to the present. In the living room, Diego and Lilly were locked in some fierce, ridiculous competition, their playful bickering weaving through the house like background music. 

The familiarity of it brought a smile to my lips, but it was only when movement caught my eye that my heart truly swelled.

Amy.

Emerging from the staircase, her short blonde hair swaying as she descended, the same radiant smile that had welcomed me a thousand times before now stretched wide across her face.

"You’re finally here!" she beamed, voice thick with warmth, with the kind of love that had always felt like a second home.

"Mama Amy!" The words tumbled from my lips before I could help it, my feet moving before my mind could catch up. In my excitement, I nearly tripped over my luggage, but I didn’t care. I closed the distance between us in a heartbeat, launching myself into Amy’s waiting arms.

The embrace was tight, fierce—years of love, of shared history, of something deeper than blood but just as binding. I buried my face into Amy’s shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of vanilla and sun-warmed linen, the scent of comfort, of long talks on the porch, of arms that had held me through both laughter and heartbreak.

"Ugh," I groaned dramatically, squeezing tighter. "I missed you so much."

Amy chuckled, smoothing a hand over my hair the way she always had. "Missed you more, sweetheart. It’s been too quiet without you around."

And I knew she meant it. Because Amy had never just been Paige’s mom—she had been mine, too. A second mother in every way that counted. Just as my own mother had been to Paige and Lauren, Amy had been there for me. 

Through heartbreaks and triumphs, through childhood scraped knees and the sting of growing up too fast. Through every moment that mattered.

Amy pulled back just enough to cup my face, her blue eyes searching mine with something soft, something knowing. "You doing okay?"

I swallowed.

I wanted to say yes.

I wanted to mean it.

But for now, I just nodded, letting the warmth of Amy’s touch and the weight of her arms settle the ache in my chest.

Because for the first time in a long time, I was finally here.

“Where’s Bob?” The words left my lips as I stood in the golden haze of the late afternoon, my voice threading through the air like the familiar melody of an old song. 

The walls of this house had heard that name a thousand times before, whispered in the quiet of early mornings, shouted over the sound of waves crashing in the distance.

Amy turned to me, her face warm, crinkled at the corners from years of sun and laughter. She smelled like salt air and vanilla, the scent of summers past clinging to her like a second skin. Her arms, still wrapped around me, gave one final squeeze before she pulled away, her fingers lingering for just a second longer.

“He just left actually–– went out grabbing groceries with Paige and Carson,” she said, her voice light with the ease of routine. “You know how it is, the ‘Grocery Gang’.”

I nodded, already picturing the scene—the three of them wandering through the tiny, sun-warmed market, their hands brushing against fresh produce and wicker baskets, arguing over whether to get the sweet or unsweetened iced tea. 

Time had a way of shifting, folding new people into old traditions, stretching and reshaping what once felt immovable.

“And Josephine?” I asked, tilting my head slightly, the name slipping from my tongue like a question wrapped in longing.

Amy exhaled softly, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to make it this time. Work’s been keeping her tied up.”

A quiet pang settled in my chest, the kind that only comes when someone is missing from a place they’re supposed to be. 

Josephine had become a fixture in our summers, as much a part of this home as the scent of cedar and sea spray, as the laughter that drifted through open windows at dusk. She was more than just Diego’s mom—she was a guiding presence that filled the spaces left by time and distance.

“Hopefully, she gets to join us soon, though,” Amy added, her voice threaded with hope.

I smiled, a knowing curve of my lips, and nodded. “Yeah, hopefully.”

Before I could sink too deep into the thought, I hitched the strap of my duffle bag higher onto my shoulder. “I’m gonna put my stuff in my room real quick.”

“Oh, lemme help you,” Reece’s voice emerged from the kitchen, thick with something sweet.

I turned just in time to see him wiping his sugar-dusted fingers against the fabric of his shorts, his mouth still full, his blue eyes dancing with mischief.

I arched a brow. “With your sticky hands?”

He scoffed, utterly unbothered, rolling his eyes with a dramatic huff. “Please, these suitcases probably cost twenty bucks. It ain’t that special.”

My lips parted in mock offense. “Excuse me—seventy dollars, actually.”

He snorted, already reaching down to grab a handle, his fingers curling around the worn leather with practiced ease. “Still not that special.”

Our words bounced between us like skipping stones over water, light and effortless, the kind of back-and-forth that had been carved into our bones over the years.

Amy chuckled softly as she watched us, shaking her head before slipping into the kitchen, disappearing into the soft hum of a home alive with movement.

And then, like a wave crashing against the shore, I felt it—that scent.

It curled through the air like an embrace, thick with warmth, wrapping around my senses and pulling me under. Smoky embers and charred wood, the unmistakable scent of barbecue, rich and golden. Beneath it, something briny, something fresh, the perfume of the sea woven into the promise of a meal made with love.

My stomach twisted in quiet longing as Reece and I drifted toward the kitchen, the weight of our bags shifting against our bodies. He carried two suitcases with ease, the muscles in his arms flexing with the effort, while I adjusted the duffle on my shoulder, my fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of my own luggage.

And there, bathed in the golden glow of the evening sun, was my mother.

She moved through the kitchen with effortless grace, a quiet symphony of motion. The counters were covered in an array of ingredients—chopped vegetables glistening under the soft kitchen lights, meats marinating in deep earthenware bowls, the air thick with the rich scent of herbs and spices.

“Whoa,” I murmured, pausing at the doorway, my eyes sweeping over the spread before me. “What’s this? A royal banquet?”

Mom hummed, rinsing a bowl of potatoes beneath the steady stream of water, a small smirk playing on her lips. “We always celebrate the first night back here,” she said, matter-of-factly, as if I should have known better than to question it.

And she was right. How had I forgotten?

The first night back in this house was never just another night. It was a ritual, a way to stitch ourselves back into the rhythm of this place, to remind each other that no matter how much time passed, no matter how far we had gone, we always found our way back—to the same table, the same laughter, the same love.

Reece and I shared a look before making our way up the staircase, our steps in sync as we climbed toward the familiar. The wooden steps creaked beneath us, a sound so ingrained in my memory that it felt like a song I had once known by heart.

As we walked, our conversation drifted between the past and present—what had changed since I had been gone, what had stayed the same. Reece filled me in on everything, from the small, meaningless updates to the ones that mattered. Who was dating who, who had left for school, what pranks had been pulled when I wasn’t around to witness them.

It was easy. It was effortless. It was home.

And for the first time in a long time, I let myself sink into it completely.

As we ascended the staircase, the wooden steps creaked beneath our weight, whispering their quiet welcome, a sound so familiar it felt like an embrace. The second floor unfolded before me, and a warmth bloomed in my chest, thick and golden, like sunlight filtering through salt-kissed curtains on a summer morning. 

Four doors stood before me—three bedrooms, one bathroom—each a vessel of memory, of laughter and whispered secrets, of childhood dreams spun from the innocence of five-year-old hearts. One door, set apart from the others, belonged to Wren. Or at least, it had, until she decided she had outgrown it, trading in its small comforts for one of the bigger rooms on the far side of the house. 

Now, it belonged to Lilly, and with her, it had taken on a new heartbeat, a new rhythm, though echoes of Wren still lingered in its corners.

The other two rooms, side by side, ours. Mine and Paige’s. A stake we had claimed long before we understood what permanence meant. Our names, scrawled across the wooden doors in glitter—Paige’s in regal purple, mine in a bright, childish pink—still shimmered under the dim hallway light. 

The banners we had made with tiny hands, glue sticking to our fingers, had stood the test of time. A declaration. A promise. That no matter how much we grew, how much the world outside changed, these rooms would always be ours.

My feet carried me forward before I even realized I had moved, instinct guiding me to my door.

"Y/N’S SURF SHACK"

The words greeted me, bold against the white-painted wood, pink glitter still clinging stubbornly to its surface despite the years that had passed. Around them, seashells and surfboards danced in a scattered collage, hearts pressed between them like unspoken love. And there, beside the banner, a stick-figure drawing of two little girls—one blonde, one brunette—etched in messy crayon strokes, their hands clasped together in the way only best friends could.

A smirk tugged at my lips as I pressed my palm against the cool metal of the doorknob, fingers curling around its familiar shape. With a soft twist, I pushed the door open.

The scent hit me first.

Coconut and ocean salt, like sun-warmed skin after a day spent diving beneath rolling waves. The air felt untouched yet lived-in, the kind of space frozen in time yet waiting, patiently, for my return.

Everything was exactly as I had left it.

The walls, painted in a soft white-cream with an accent of baby blue, mirrored the sky just before it kissed the horizon at dusk. Sheer white curtains billowed gently in the breeze, whispering secrets carried from the sea. 

The queen-sized bed sat pressed against the far wall, its wooden headboard adorned with delicate fairy lights, their glow faint in the fading daylight. 

A thin string stretched across the wall above it, polaroids clinging to it like fireflies, snapshots of summer days and stolen moments.

Framed pictures and art I had carefully chosen lined the walls, pieces of my soul scattered across the room in colors and strokes.

 Beside the bed, matching white nightstands stood like sentinels, their surfaces home to trinkets, forgotten books, and memories encased in glass frames.

 In the corner, a hanging egg chair swayed slightly, as if remembering the weight of my body curling into it, book in hand, lost in worlds beyond this one.

One side of the room bore the evidence of my greatest love—the ocean. Surfboards leaned against the wall, their colors faded from years of salt and sun, each one holding the memory of a perfect wave, a fall, a triumph. 

Among them, nestled between the wooden planks, were plants that had somehow survived my neglect, their green leaves stretching toward the light like they, too, belonged here.

A white dresser stood against the opposite wall, cluttered with the remnants of my life—a stray bracelet, a half-burned candle, a forgotten letter folded neatly beneath a smooth sea stone. Above, the ceiling fan spun lazily, stirring the air like an exhale, slow and deliberate.

And there, resting on the bed as if it had never moved, was my white bunny Jellycat. Nestled between a sea of throw pillows, its soft body slightly worn, the fabric stretched in places where tiny hands had clutched it too tightly in the night. It was a relic of comfort, of childhood fears soothed beneath the weight of moonlight and whispered reassurances.

But what caught my breath, what stilled my heart for a fraction of a second, was the vase.

Sitting atop the white nightstand, its glass surface catching the golden light, was a bouquet of pink lilies. Fresh, their petals unfurling in delicate, blushing curls, the fragrance wrapping around me like an embrace. 

Paige. 

She had been in here, had left them for me, had remembered.

Beside the flowers, a framed photo—Paige and me at ten years old, laughing mid-collapse, her arms wrapped around my shoulders as I struggled to keep us both upright. Frozen in time, our joy immortalized behind the glass.

My throat tightened.

It wasn’t just a room.

It was a time capsule. A love letter to every version of myself that had lived here, every laugh, every tear, every whispered confession made to the walls in the dead of night. It was a place untouched by time, yet full of it.

With a deep breath, I stepped inside, letting the warmth of home settle into my bones.

I step inside, and the past comes rushing at me like a tide—thick with the scent of salt, sunscreen, and a life I only get to touch for a few months out of the year. The air is heavier here, humming with old laughter, sunburned memories, and the echoes of a childhood that still clings to the walls.

“Welcome back, Y/N.”

Reece’s voice rumbles from behind me, steady and familiar, grounding me before I drift too far into nostalgia. I turn just as he sets my luggage down with a soft thud, his towering frame still as solid as ever, a quiet presence that never changes.

I smile, reaching up to ruffle his light brown hair like I always have, my fingers tangling in the strands before giving his back a firm pat. “Thanks, big guy,” I murmur.

Reece chuckles, a low sound, then nods once before heading downstairs, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floors, fading into the heartbeat of the house.

And just like that, I am alone.

The silence is thick but not empty—never empty here. It hums with something alive, something waiting, like the house itself is breathing me in. I let my eyes wander, drinking in every detail that tethers me back to this place. 

The soft cream walls, still sun-bleached from the years. The desk by the window, cluttered with forgotten trinkets and sand-dusted notebooks. The faint scent of vanilla and sea salt, a perfume of the past that lingers in the fabric of the curtains.

But it’s the balcony doors that call to me the loudest.

Drawn like a thread being pulled, I cross the room, fingers finding the cool brass handles as I push them wide open. The ocean air rushes in, crashing into me with its salted breath, thick and alive with the weight of summer. It fills my lungs, clings to my skin, wraps itself around me like an old friend.

God, I missed this.

The view is the same—always the same—but it never loses its magic. The dunes stretch long and golden, their tall grasses swaying in rhythm with the wind.

 Beyond them, the ocean sprawls endlessly, a restless blue that shifts with the sky, a shade I have never quite been able to find anywhere else. It’s a short walk to the beach, but from here, I can still hear the waves, the endless push and pull, whispering their secrets to the shore.

And if I listen even closer, I can hear voices drifting through the warm air.

Dad’s voice, deep and steady, carrying over from the pool where the grill sizzles. The smell of barbecue mingles with the ocean breeze, thick and smoky, curling through the air like an unspoken invitation. Wren is probably beside him, leaning against the railing, making some dry remark about his technique. The sound of their quiet laughter stirs something deep in my chest—a longing, a warmth, a knowing that this is home.

I linger there, drinking it in, before finally stepping back inside, leaving the doors open just enough to let the breeze follow me in.

My eyes drifted back to the lilies. 

Soft pink, delicate, arranged with a kind of thoughtfulness that makes my chest ache. They sit on my nightstand in a glass vase, petals still dewy, as if they’ve only just been placed there. And beside them, a small folded note, edges slightly curled.

I already know who it’s from before I even touch it.

The handwriting—the careful curves, the way the ink presses just a little too hard in certain letters—it’s unmistakable.

I exhale a laugh, barely more than a breath, as I pick up the note, my thumb brushing over the familiar scrawl.

"Welcome back, princess."

Princess.

I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch into a smile despite myself. It started as a joke—an affectionate tease that Paige threw at me when we were sixteen. I had hated it at first, wrinkled my nose every time she said it, but over time, I stopped fighting it. Maybe because, deep down, I started to understand why she called me that. And suddenly, it didn’t bother me at all.

With a sigh, I let the note flutter back onto the nightstand before collapsing onto my bed, limbs splaying out in a careless starfish position. The sheets are crisp but familiar, the comforter slightly cool from being untouched. My childhood bunny still sits among the pillows, a little more worn, a little more forgotten, but still here—like a ghost of who I used to be.

I close my eyes.

Let myself sink.

The house breathes around me, the sounds outside blurring into a lullaby—the hush of the waves, the distant laughter, the cicadas singing in the heat. My body is heavy, my mind slipping somewhere between wakefulness and dreams.

Until—

“What’s up, stranger?”

The voice is deep, loud, and entirely too close.

A sharp burst of sound that shatters the quiet like a hammer to glass.

I jolt upright, heart slamming against my ribs as my eyes fly open.

“Jesus—” I hiss, my pulse still racing. “You scared the shit out of me, dipshit.”

Standing at the foot of my bed, grinning like a damn menace, is Beau.

My eighteen-year-old brother, taller than I remember, his shoulders broader, his hair sun-lightened and messier than ever. His grin is all teeth, mischief crackling in his dark brown eyes like a brewing storm.

Before I can react, before I can even think—

He launches himself onto the bed.

A solid weight, knocking the breath out of me as he crashes down, arms wrapping around me in a ruthless, smothering hold.

“Beau—” I wheeze, squirming under him.

“C’mon, you know you missed me,” he says, his voice muffled against my shoulder before his arm snakes around my neck, locking me into a chokehold.

I let out a strangled noise as he ruffles my hair with merciless enthusiasm, tangling the strands I had only just managed to tame.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I grumble, trying—and failing—not to smile.

He just laughs, completely unbothered, still holding me captive in his vice grip.

And then—

“Are you two seriously wrestling already?”

I don’t need to look to know who it is.

Wren leans against the doorframe, one brow arched, arms crossed, exuding her usual brand of effortless cool. The kind that makes it impossible to tell whether she’s amused or exasperated. Probably both.

Beau scoffs, rolling onto his back beside me, arms behind his head. “You jealous or something?”

Wren snorts. “Yeah, totally. I just live for the sight of you two rolling around like a couple of feral dogs.”

I sit up, running a hand through my now thoroughly wrecked hair. “If you’re gonna be in here, at least shut the door. You’re letting all the air out.”

Wren shrugs but does as she’s told, kicking the door closed with the heel of her foot. “So, now that the princess has returned, does this mean we’re getting into trouble tonight, or what?”

I smirk, stretching out my arms in an exaggerated yawn. “Depends. How much trouble are we talking?”

Beau grins, eyes gleaming. “The kind that gets us grounded for the rest of the summer.”

And just like that—

The house feels alive again.

Buzzing. Humming. Crackling with something electric.

And as I sink into the moment, into the warmth of them, I realize just how much I missed this.

How much I missed them.

The clock on my nightstand read just past three in the afternoon, the soft hum of the ceiling fan above stirring the warm summer air in lazy circles. The room still smelled faintly of salt and sunscreen, but now, layered on top of it, the familiar sweetness of coconut and vanilla clung to my skin. 

My body was warm from the shower, my limbs still heavy with the kind of drowsy comfort that came after hot water and quiet solitude. The moisturizer I had lathered onto my legs made my skin impossibly soft, and my damp hair left cool, damp trails against the bare skin of my shoulders.

I had taken my time getting ready, slipping into a white floral tank top, the delicate fabric whispering against my skin. 

The spaghetti straps sat gently on my shoulders, the V-cut dipping just enough to hint at something softer, a tiny satin bow sitting at its center like an afterthought. The mini skirt hugged my waist, airy and light, the hem brushing against the tops of my thighs with every movement.

As I stood in front of the open balcony doors, the humid air wrapped around me, thick with the scent of the ocean and the distant smokiness of the barbecue still sizzling downstairs. 

The world outside stretched endlessly—rolling dunes, scattered wild grasses swaying lazily, the sun dipping lower in the sky, gilding the horizon in honeyed gold. And then—

Then, my eyes found her.

Down at the dock, standing alone, her blonde hair caught the wind, rippling like a flickering flame that danced in defiance of the vast, endless blue stretching before her. Paige.

The sight of her struck something deep in my chest, a slow, painful ache unfurling like a frayed thread that had somehow found its way back into the fabric of my heart. 

Three years. Three whole years. 

And yet, there she stood—still Paige. Still effortless. Still radiant in that quiet, impossible way that made it impossible to look anywhere else.

Her back was to me, but I couldn’t help but drink her in. The sun kissed her skin with a warmth that seemed almost unnatural, casting a soft glow that made her look as if she had been sculpted from light itself. 

I couldn’t help but trace the way her shoulders held a tension, something unfamiliar but familiar at once—a guarded kind of grace. 

It was in the way her white cropped tank top draped over her, the gentle curve of her form visible beneath the fabric, as if time had shaped her in ways I hadn’t quite expected.

 The soft lines of her silhouette, the subtle shift in the way she moved—everything about her spoke of the changes that had taken place, the growth that had come with the years. 

And yet, beneath it all, she still carried the essence of the girl I had once known.

She looked unreal, like something conjured from the depths of a dream I had long buried, but now it resurfaced, flooding my senses with the pull of what had once been.

Before I could second-guess myself, before I could drown in the weight of everything I hadn’t said, my fingers clenched into my palm, and I let out a slow, steady breath.

And then I moved.

The comb in my hand was forgotten, dropped onto the bed as I turned and stepped out of my room. My bare feet moved swiftly across the wooden floors, past the open kitchen where Mom and Amy stood talking, their conversation a gentle hum I didn’t bother to decipher. 

Past the living room, where Beau and Diego sat hunched over the screen, their game of Black Ops 6 filling the air with gunfire and shouted curses. Past my dad, still tending to the grill, his deep voice carrying over the sound of sizzling meat.

And then, out the back door.

The moment my sandals touched the grass, the heat of the afternoon pressed against me like a second skin. The air felt heavier out here, thick with nostalgia and something dangerously close to regret. I stepped onto the sand, the fine grains shifting beneath my soles, sinking slightly with every step.

 Each movement felt surreal, like I was caught between past and present, like I was walking toward something I wasn’t sure I was ready to face.

But Paige was still there.

Still standing at the edge of the dock, still lost in whatever thoughts had her so still.

I hesitated at the dock’s entrance, the worn wooden planks creaking beneath my weight as I stopped. Three years. Three years of silence, of missed calls, of never showing up, of pretending the ache in my chest wasn’t real.

What the hell was I even supposed to say?

Hey? Sorry I haven’t texted you? Sorry I never called? Sorry I didn’t show up to any of your games? How have you been?

It all sounded stupid. Useless. Like trying to patch up something that had already been burned to the ground.

I swallowed hard, my hands tightening into fists at my sides, trying to steady myself against the wave of uncertainty. But then—

I exhaled. Released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

And I stepped forward.

The wooden planks were warm beneath my sandals as I slowly made my way down the dock, each step feeling heavier than the last. My heart pounded against my ribs, but my voice was steady when I finally spoke.

“Well, if it isn’t Paige ‘Buckets’ Bueckers.”

My voice was soft, careful, as if saying her name too loudly might shatter the fragile moment between us.

I saw it then—the way her shoulders stiffened ever so slightly, the way her breath hitched in the split second before she turned around.

And when she did—

Paige blinked at me, lips parting, her blue eyes wide with something I couldn’t quite place. Disbelief? Shock? Maybe something else, something deeper.

“Y/N.”

My name left her lips like an exhale, like she wasn’t sure if she was really seeing me.

And for a moment, neither was I.

The world stilled.

For a moment, all I could hear was the soft, rhythmic lapping of the water against the dock, the distant hum of my father’s laughter mingling with the sharp sizzle of the grill, the occasional cry of a gull overhead as it circled lazily in the sky.

But everything else—the voices, the background chatter, the weight of three long, aching years—fell into a quiet hush as I stared at her.

Paige.

Her name echoed in my mind, a long-forgotten tune that had once filled my world but had gone silent, tucked away in the shadows of time. I hadn’t allowed myself to sing it in so long.

She was standing there, barely a few feet away, but in that moment, it felt like an entire lifetime stretched between us, the distance palpable and heavy, a gap carved out by silence and time.

The afternoon light bathed her in gold, casting a warm halo around her as it played across her form, highlighting every sharp and soft angle of her. 

The light kissed her skin with a gentle reverence, turning her into something almost too perfect to be real. Her blonde hair, now slightly longer than I remembered, swayed with the breeze, each strand catching the sunlight like delicate threads of spun silk, glimmering in the golden haze. 

Her skin, kissed by the sun and glistening with a natural glow, held that kind of effortless radiance that made her look ethereal, as if she existed just a touch beyond the realm of ordinary, like she wasn’t standing on the same plane of existence as the rest of us.

She had always been beautiful.

But now, standing before me after all this time, she was breathtaking in a way I wasn’t prepared for, in a way that pulled at something deep inside of me.

Her white cropped tank clung to her, the fabric stretching slightly over her body, accentuating the defined shape of her shoulders, the gentle curve of her waist. I noticed how her abs had become more defined, the subtle ridges of muscle drawing the eye, a quiet testament to her discipline, the years of hard work that had shaped her. 

The pink cotton shorts, soft and simple, sat comfortably on her frame, riding up slightly when she shifted, the pale color contrasting against her sun-brushed skin, which seemed to shimmer in the fading light.

But it wasn’t just how she looked—it was how she felt. How her presence, standing so close yet so far away, pressed against me, filling my senses with something indescribable, something deep and untouchable. 

A feeling I couldn’t quite name, but one that seemed to pull at me, to unravel something inside me I had long since sealed away.

She blinked again, her lashes fluttering as she looked at me, lips parting ever so slightly, like she wasn’t sure if I was real, if I was really standing here before her after everything.

“Y/N,” she said, my name rolling off her tongue, hesitant, almost fragile. It lingered in the air like something both familiar and foreign, a whisper of the past—so soft, so careful, as if she were afraid it might break in her mouth.

Something inside me twisted at the way she said it. Like it was a ghost of something she had tried to forget. The syllables clung to the space between us, heavy with unspoken things, things that had been buried under the weight of years and distance.

I swallowed, my throat tight, and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed to close in around me.

“Hey, Paigey.” My voice was softer this time, almost like a confession, an apology wrapped in a single word. The unspoken weight of everything I couldn’t say pressed down on my chest, making each breath feel too heavy, too sharp.

Paige exhaled sharply, a breath she had been holding, and then—just for a second—her expression cracked. It was subtle, but I saw it. A flicker of vulnerability, of something that had been hidden away for far too long.

I saw it in her eyes. The hesitation. The quiet hurt buried beneath layers of time. The way her gaze wavered, searching for something, something she had lost but couldn’t quite let go of. And the silent question that seemed to hang in the air between us, unanswered and aching.

Where the hell have you been?

I didn’t know what to say. Three years was a long time. Too long.

I had missed things. So many things.

Her games, where she had probably looked just like this—strong, radiant, untouchable under the stadium lights, the spotlight making her seem like she belonged to a world I could only watch from afar. 

I had missed the way her sweat would glisten, the quiet intensity in her eyes as she locked in on the basket, the way her body moved with a grace that seemed both effortless and powerful all at once.

I had missed the late-night drives we used to take just to feel the wind in our hair, the hum of the car engine our only companion as we talked about everything and nothing. Our laughter getting lost in the rush of the road, the shared silence feeling like something sacred, as if the world outside didn’t matter as long as we were together.

And I had missed the way she used to lean against me during movies, her head resting comfortably on my shoulder, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but still warm, still trusting. Like I was something safe in a world that never seemed to stop moving.

And I had just—disappeared.

I had allowed the silence to stretch like an endless chasm between us, the emptiness widening with each passing day until it became something insurmountable. 

Something that now loomed in the background of every thought, every memory, a weight I didn’t know how to lift. I had let the space between us grow into a void, an ocean of time and distance that felt impossible to cross. But in this moment, none of that mattered anymore.

Because she was here.

And so was I.

The air between us buzzed with a strange, quiet tension, and for a heartbeat, the years that had slipped by seemed to vanish. All that was left was her and me, this lingering proximity that felt both foreign and familiar at once.

“Your hair got longer,” she finally said, her voice softer now, almost as if she were afraid to break the fragile moment between us. But even in its quietness, it was steady, certain.

I blinked, feeling the flutter of warmth in my chest, and my fingers twitched at my sides, a nervous tic I hadn’t realized was still there. 

She remembered how it used to be—how my hair used to fall just past my collarbones, how she would absentmindedly tug at the ends when her hands had nothing to do, braiding small strands while we sat in the back of my dad’s truck, our eyes fixed on the endless sky above us, tracing constellations we had named ourselves.

“Yeah,” I murmured, my voice a little thick. “Figured it was time for a change.”

She hummed, a sound that felt like it reached into my chest and held onto something fragile. Her gaze lingered on me, just a fraction longer than necessary, like she was tracing the lines of me, mapping the girl she had once known but had somehow lost.

A gust of wind swept past us, tossing loose strands of her hair around her face. 

I couldn’t help but watch as the soft tendrils danced in the air, framing her face with a wild, untamed beauty that made my heart stutter.

 For a split second, a reckless urge surged through me, one I couldn’t ignore: to reach out, to brush the hair from her face, to tuck it behind her ear the way I used to, to erase the space that had grown between us, to make everything feel like it once had.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I clenched my hands into fists, the muscles in my arms tightening as I fought the impulse. I rocked back slightly on my heels, the weight of the moment pressing down on me, heavy and intense, and I wondered if I would ever stop aching for the ease of things that had once been.

“How’ve you been?” I asked, the question feeling ridiculous the second it left my lips. It sounded hollow, an echo of the distance between us, something that could never bridge the gap of those years.

Paige let out a quiet laugh, breathy and short, like she didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed. It was the kind of laugh that hinted at something deeper, a history that still lingered between us, unspoken.

“Oh, you know. Winning championships. Breaking records. Carrying the team on my back.” She raised an eyebrow at me, the corner of her lips curving upward in a playful challenge. “Not that you’d know.”

I winced, a sharp sting of guilt pricking my chest. I deserved that.

“I saw,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. The words seemed fragile, like they might break apart before they even fully formed. “I kept up, Paige. I—” I hesitated, my tongue suddenly thick, tripping over the weight of things left unsaid. “I just—”

Couldn’t be there. Didn’t know how to come back. Didn’t know if I was allowed to.

The silence between us thickened, but only for a moment, before Paige studied me with a quiet, knowing gaze, something flickering behind her eyes like a door left ajar, teasing me with the possibility of what had been. Then she let out another breath, shaking her head with a soft, almost melodic chuckle.

“Still the same,” she murmured, almost to herself, the words like a secret shared between the wind and the sea, something private that no one else would ever understand.

I frowned slightly, an unfamiliar discomfort settling in my chest. “What do you mean?”

She glanced at me then, her eyes catching mine for the briefest of moments, and for the first time since she turned around, she smiled. It was small, faint, barely-there—but it was real, and it struck me with the force of a forgotten memory resurfacing.

It did something strange to my chest, a feeling I couldn’t name.

Paige shrugged, her gaze drifting away again, toward the horizon where the sky and the water met in a seamless blur of blue—a vast, endless expanse that seemed to stretch on forever, the edges fading into the unknown.

“You always sucked at talking about feelings.”

The words hung in the air, like a teasing melody that both mocked and understood.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I exhaled a quiet laugh, the sound almost a release, a soft surrender to the moment.

“Yeah,” I admitted, my voice tinged with something close to regret. “Guess some things never change.”

A pause settled between us, but it wasn’t as heavy this time. It wasn’t drowning in the silence of old wounds or the weight of unspoken apologies. It was just—there. A soft, comfortable space, neither awkward nor charged, but simply open. A breath waiting to be taken.

And maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something that could be rebuilt.

Slowly.

 Piece by piece.

 Step by step.

The air between us felt like a canvas—thin, stretched tight, and full of potential but still waiting for the first stroke of color. The weight of three years hung in the space between us, but the longer we stood there, the more that weight seemed to shift. The silence, once thick and suffocating, had softened. 

I was still acutely aware of the tension in my chest, the way my heart beat a little faster with every stolen glance at her.

She was a lot taller than me now. I hadn’t remembered that. Or maybe I’d tried to forget.

Paige used to call me short stack when we were kids—her nickname for me that always felt so casual, so comfortable. She’d ruffle my hair in the most aggravating way, making me bat at her hands like I could do something about it. 

Now, standing next to her, I was aware of how much space she occupied. How much taller she stood, her head just above mine. I felt small in comparison, my body pressed into the earth below while hers was a towering figure in the light, radiating strength and presence.

She was still Paige—my Paige, in a sense—but now, she seemed like someone else entirely.

Without thinking, I took a step forward, then another, until I was standing at her side.

She didn’t look down at me at first. Her eyes were still fixed on the water, the movement of the waves gentle against the wooden pillars of the dock, creating a rhythm that I could almost lose myself in. 

The scent of saltwater mingled with the faint trace of sunscreen and the smell of her perfume, something light, floral, and citrusy, like the warmth of a summer day that you never wanted to end.

For a moment, I just stood there beside her, unsure if I should speak or if the silence would be enough to say what I wanted. She had always been good at filling the quiet—her voice, warm and steady, had a way of cutting through the air like a summer breeze, making everything feel just a little lighter.

“I’ve missed this,” I said softly, the words coming out before I even realized I’d thought them.

Her lips quirked slightly, and I couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes softened when they flickered toward me. “What, the dock? The ocean?” She gestured to the expanse of blue stretching out in front of us.

I nodded, swallowing a lump that had risen in my throat. “Yeah. The beach, the salt air. All of it.” My gaze drifted over the water, catching the way the sunlight bounced off the waves, giving them the shimmer of liquid glass. “It’s like nothing’s changed, and everything has, too.”

Paige exhaled through her nose. “You’re not wrong. It’s strange, isn’t it?” Her voice was quieter now, almost like she was talking more to herself than to me. “It’s all the same, but it’s not. I don’t know.” She fell into a silence, her hand brushing absently at her shorts, and for the first time, I saw her hesitate.

I took a breath, trying to gather myself, the weight of the years apart pressing against my ribs. It felt like there was so much I wanted to say, but I didn’t know where to start. 

So instead, I let my fingers drift to the edge of the dock, brushing against the smooth wood, and I glanced up at her. “How’s the team? And your dad?” I asked, my voice a little stronger than before, like I could find something to hold onto in the conversation.

She nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Dad’s good. Still grilling at every chance he gets. The team’s... well, the team’s on fire. You should come see a game sometime.”

“Yeah?” I raised an eyebrow, watching her as she spoke. There was something about the way her eyes lit up when she talked about it, a fire I had never seen before. It was like she had become this new version of herself—this incredible version of herself—and it both amazed and terrified me.

“Yeah. I’ll get you tickets.” She said it so casually, but there was a soft vulnerability in the offer that made me pause.

“I’ll take you up on that,” I said, a little more sincerely than I’d intended.

There was a long stretch of silence again. But it wasn’t uncomfortable, not anymore. In that moment, standing there next to her, the world seemed a little bit quieter. We both seemed to exist in the same space—still, a little bruised from the time apart, but in a way, finding our footing again.

I didn’t expect what happened next.

Without warning, Paige turned toward me, her arms slipping around me in a tight hug, pulling me into her chest so suddenly I barely had time to react. The warmth of her skin against mine sent a shiver through me, not from cold, but from something I couldn’t name.

 Something heavy and familiar, something that wrapped itself around my chest and squeezed. Her body was solid, strong, a safe presence I hadn’t realized I’d been craving all this time—an anchor in a sea of uncertainty.

For a second, I was frozen—shocked by the sudden closeness, the feeling of her heartbeat against my own. It was as if time itself had slowed down, and I was caught in the suffocating rush of emotions I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in years. 

My breath caught in my throat, my chest tightening. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed this—the simplicity of being held by her, the steady rhythm of her presence. It was like coming home after being lost for far too long.

But then, slowly, I wrapped my arms around her, my head resting on her shoulder. The sensation was overwhelming in its intimacy, as if every part of me was yearning for her to stay, to never let go. It felt so natural, like we were two parts of the same whole, as if we’d never been apart. 

There was no awkwardness, no question of where we stood—just the softness of her touch, the unspoken understanding between us, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down, yet strangely light in the comfort of her embrace.

“God, I missed you,” she muttered into my hair, her voice rough, as if the words had been locked away for too long. The warmth of her breath against my skin sent a shiver down my spine, but it wasn’t cold—it was like I had just exhaled after holding my breath for years. 

Her fingers tightened around me, almost like she was afraid I would slip away again, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she, too, felt the fragile nature of this moment—how everything was hanging by a thread, yet it felt like the most real thing I’d ever experienced.

I closed my eyes, pressing my face deeper into the fabric of her shirt, the familiar scent of her and the ocean mixing in the air, filling me up like a memory I hadn’t known I was starving for. 

There was something about the way she held me, something so sure and certain, that made everything I’d been running from feel distant, like it didn’t matter anymore.

 “I missed you too,” I whispered, and it was the first time in years I’d said it without hesitation. The words felt right, like they’d been stuck in my chest for far too long, and I was finally giving them the space they needed to breathe.

The hug lasted a moment longer than either of us probably expected, but neither of us pulled away. I wasn’t sure what exactly we were trying to hold onto—whether it was the memory of who we were, or the hope of something more—but in that moment, I didn’t need to know.

 I just needed to be here, to feel her against me, to acknowledge the truth that had been buried beneath layers of time and distance. We didn’t need words; the silence spoke louder than anything else.

When she finally pulled back, there was a softness in her eyes—something raw and unguarded that she hadn’t shown me before. 

Something fragile, like she was allowing herself to be seen in a way she hadn’t been in years. She stepped back, but her hands lingered at my shoulders, grounding me in this moment, anchoring me to the now. 

And I let her—because in that moment, I didn’t want to let go. I didn’t want to forget what it felt like to be close to her, to be hers.

“So,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was still catching her breath from the hug. “What now?”

I didn’t know. I didn’t have all the answers.

But for the first time in a long time, I was okay with that.

The space between us felt like a warm memory, alive and trembling, like the soft afterglow of a sunset that refuses to fade into darkness. I stood there, lost in the weight of her hug, letting the quiet stretch, not feeling the need to rush through the moment. 

A part of me, deep down, knew that everything in this instant—this reunion, this fragile reconnection—was not something to be hurried. And for the first time in what seemed like forever, I didn’t want to push for anything more. 

No questions. No answers. Just this. The feeling of her arms around me, the heat of her chest pressed against mine, the solid, familiar rhythm of her breath. It was a lullaby, pulling me into a place of peace I hadn’t realized I’d been craving.

Then, as if the universe had decided to drag us out of that perfect stillness, a voice pierced the moment.

“Y/N! Paige!” Wren’s voice called, the sound of her hand waving from behind the dunes, a small speck of movement in the distance. “Mom needs you both to start on the fruit salad!”

I groaned, the simple, mundane reality of life sliding back in. My shoulders sagged a little in exaggerated defeat, the world’s little interruptions making their presence known. But despite it, I found myself smiling.

 Not at the fruit salad request, but because Paige’s laughter had tickled the edges of my consciousness in that moment, a sound so familiar, so rich with joy that it had the power to shift the air around us.

"Coming!" I yelled back, my voice trailing on the breeze.

The sound of her laugh rang in my ears, and only then did I notice the weight of her gaze. It was like the sun lingering in the late afternoon, never fully setting, just casting a soft, golden glow that made everything feel brighter, more alive. 

Her eyes were still locked onto mine, and I couldn’t ignore the way it made my chest flutter, my pulse quickening with the unspoken energy that passed between us.

“What’s so funny, weirdo?” I teased, my lips curling into a smirk as I leaned into her lightly, swatting her shoulder.

Her eyes lit up, and the sound that escaped her lips wasn’t just laughter. It was a sigh of relief, a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding in for years. “Nothin’, just good to have you back.”

Those words—so simple, yet the weight of them crushed me in the gentlest way. She didn’t just say them; she breathed them out like a confession, something tender and unspoken that swelled between us. 

The warmth that settled in my chest spread through me, curling through my ribs and wrapping around my heart, coaxing a smile out of me that I couldn’t fight.

I bit my bottom lip, and for a fleeting moment, I noticed the shift in her gaze. Her eyes followed the movement of my teeth grazing against my lip, and the air between us seemed to hum with something heavier, something that hovered just beneath the surface. 

Her lips parted, a soft breath escaping as she almost seemed to lean toward me without realizing it. It was a fleeting thing, but it made my heart stumble in my chest.

"Missed me that much, huh?" I teased again, my voice low, like I was trying to mask the sudden flutter of nerves that rose up inside me.

Paige rolled her eyes, but there was a sly smirk playing at the edges of her mouth, a soft exhale slipping past her lips. "Shut up," she said with affection, nudging me with her shoulder.

But there was something more in the way she looked at me, something deeper. She wasn’t just laughing with me—she was laughing at the unspoken history between us, the distance we’d traveled, the time we’d lost, and yet still, here we were. 

Standing together. The weight of it was overwhelming, almost intoxicating.

“Let’s go before Ivy yells at us,” Paige said, her voice light but with an underlying softness that made me want to linger longer, just to savor this moment.

She slipped her arm around my shoulders with an ease that made everything feel natural again, like nothing had changed between us. The simple act of her hand resting on me felt like a reassurance, a promise. 

She pulled me with her, our footsteps sinking into the sand as we walked toward the house, the sound of the ocean still whispering behind us like a secret only we could hear. The weight of her presence next to me, her warmth so close, made everything else feel distant and faint.

 It was like the rest of the world could fall away and leave just the two of us, standing in this perfect moment.

“Hey, Paige,” I said after a beat, the words slipping out before I could stop them, “you ever think about how much we used to talk about everything? When we were kids, I mean?”

She glanced down at me, her smile softening, her fingers tightening just a fraction around my shoulder. “Yeah,” she replied quietly, a small, almost wistful sound to her voice. “It feels like a lifetime ago, huh?”

I nodded, the weight of the years that had stretched between us settling in like an anchor dragging at the edges of my heart. “Yeah, a lifetime ago.” The words fell from my lips, soft and heavy, filling the space between us like the last trace of a dying star—bright and distant, but still burning with a warmth that threatened to pull everything back into its orbit. It was a strange sensation, standing there with Paige once again. 

Her eyes held something I couldn’t quite name—something familiar, like the echo of a song that had been forgotten until it suddenly returned, flooding everything with its old, comforting tune. There was a spark in her gaze that lingered, just long enough for the air around us to shift. 

A fleeting moment, yet profound in the way it made my chest tighten, made my breath catch.

Maybe it was the warmth of the evening sun casting long shadows on the sand, or the quiet, unsaid words passing between us, but I had a feeling—just for a moment—that we were somehow picking up where we left off. 

No time had passed. No hurt, no distance. Just the two of us standing in the middle of it, as if we had never been apart.

I glanced over at Wren, who stood a little farther down the path. Her eyes were locked onto us, and though she was pretending to busy herself with something, the way her gaze lingered for just a second too long felt like more than idle curiosity. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips—one that almost seemed teasing, as if she knew something we didn’t, something that was left unsaid. 

A secret shared in a look, between friends who had lived through more than their fair share of things, and maybe even seen things we weren’t ready to acknowledge yet.

We continued our walk, the ground soft beneath our feet, each step pulling us closer to the kitchen. Paige, with her arm still draped over my shoulders, had a quiet confidence to her now, a steady rhythm in her walk that mirrored something deeper between us. Her presence felt like a blanket wrapped tight around me, keeping the cold at bay.

 We didn’t need to say much. It was in the comfortable weight of her hand resting against my back, in the way her fingers brushed my skin, almost absentmindedly, as if we had never been apart. I could feel the pulse of her every step beside me, and for the first time in years, the noise of everything else felt muffled, distant.

As we reached the kitchen, I noticed the familiar hum of home—the warmth from the oven, the rich scent of dinner filling the air, and the ever-present sound of Mom tapping her foot in a rhythm of mock impatience. 

She stood by the counter, arms crossed, looking both like she was about to scold us for something and yet, there was an unmistakable softness in her eyes when she saw us together again. “Took you two long enough,” Mom remarked, her voice light but laced with something more affectionate.

Paige and I exchanged a quick glance, that look of shared amusement passing between us, as if the absurdity of it all—after everything, the distance, the time apart—had led us right back to this moment. 

Together, in this space, we fit just like we always had. Life had a funny way of pulling people in different directions, of pulling you so far apart that it felt like you could never find your way back. Yet, here we were. Back where we began. 

And, for all the uncertainty of life and the time that had passed, one thing was clear: no matter the years or the space between us, the quiet connection we shared remained, untouched. It was unshaken and whole, like the roots of a tree, deep and steady beneath the surface.

Amy, with her usual gentle smile, added, “Good to see you both again.” Her voice was soft, an undertone of warmth threading through her words. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed hearing it—how much I’d missed her presence, too. 

The familiar clink of utensils and the soft rustling of things being prepared around us made the moment feel almost surreal. Wren’s eyes flickered back to us for just a moment before she turned to help her mom with the preparations, her fingers brushing the fruit in front of her with a kind of practiced ease.

As I moved toward the counter to grab the fruit, my fingers brushed against Paige’s for the briefest second. The touch, so small, yet it carried a charge, a kind of electric shiver that shot up my spine, leaving the back of my neck tingling. I almost didn’t want to pull away. Neither of us did. 

It was as if we both knew what this touch meant—the gentle brush of skin, soft and fleeting, but steeped in a thousand unspoken words. In that brief moment, we were suspended between the past and the present, between the things we’d shared and the things we had yet to discover. There was a heavy silence between us, a truth neither of us needed to say aloud.

 We both felt it. The truth of our history, of how much we had meant to each other, and how the years apart hadn’t erased that bond.

 It was still there, in every lingering glance and every slight touch. For the first time in so long, I felt a strange kind of peace settle in my chest.

I didn’t know where this would lead, what we would become, or how much of us would ever truly change. But in that moment, standing in the kitchen with her—with Paige—I felt certain of one thing: we had never truly been apart. Not really.

Footsteps creaked against the wooden flooring, and Carson walked into the kitchen, his familiar presence filling the space. 

He was a little disheveled, his shirt untucked and his sleeves rolled up as if he had been upstairs doing something, but the sight of him—so effortlessly at home in this space—made me smile.

 I hadn’t seen him in what felt like forever, not like this. Wren’s fiancé. The one who had always been like a brother to me, the one who had grown up with us in the house, alongside Wren. Even now, he stood there with a grin that had never changed, a grin that made him seem just a little bit younger than he actually was. It was the kind of smile that made everything feel familiar again.

“Look at you two,” Carson said with a teasing tone, his eyes flicking between Paige and me. “Thought you’d be hiding somewhere, away from all the family chaos.”

Wren rolled her eyes, her smile softening as she threw a quick glance in Carson’s direction. “We just got here, give them a break,” she said, though the amusement was clear in her voice.

Carson moved to stand next to me, his hand clapping me lightly on the back, his way of greeting me. It was always like this, a brother-sister relationship that had never wavered. There was a certain comfort in it—no pretense, no time wasted on small talk. 

Just the ease of a connection that had been forged long ago and was as solid now as it had ever been.

“How’s life treating you, kid?” he asked, his voice light and teasing, but there was a certain softness there, too.

I shrugged, leaning into the warmth of the conversation. “Same old, same old. And you?”

“I’m alive,” Carson said with a laugh, his usual self-deprecating humor in full swing.

As the conversation continued around us—Mom making sure we were all helping, Amy gently pushing everyone to contribute—I felt that old, comfortable rhythm returning. 

The kitchen, bustling with life and voices, felt like home in a way it hadn’t in years. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot. But with every word, every shared laugh, and every passing touch, I realized it didn’t need to be. We were here. Together. And that was enough.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 TAGLIST: @jadasogay @paige05bby @unadulteratedcyclepaper @bueckers2fudd

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[eternalxvenus]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ broken promises pt. 1 ࿐ྂ

summary: Rafe promised to take you out and spend your birthday with you, but you don’t hear from him all day and then suddenly he shows up at your door trying to explain. (angst version to my first birthday girl blurb) (title changed for series — previous title “birthday girl angst version”)

cw (for whole series): 18+, rafe x f!reader, mentions of drug use, angst, eventual smut, violence

wc: 0.6k

notes: honestly i’m thinking about making this particular blurb a series but i’m not sure though

You woke up on your birthday excited to get your day started. Your boyfriend Rafe told you the day before he would pick you up for brunch, and then you would spend the day doing whatever you wanted.

By the time you showered and were ready to go, your stomach was growling, prepared to have some delicious food. You checked your phone and saw the time read 10:45. Rafe said that he'd be here by 11:00.

30 minutes later, you hadn't heard anything from Rafe, so you decided to call him. Each of your calls went straight to voicemail. You were starting to get worried, so you decided to check social media and see if he may have posted anything. You clicked on Kelce's close friend's story and saw a party happening at his house. A few videos later, you saw one of Rafe doing coke off the table in front of him.

Your eyes start to water. He had promised you that he would stop doing drugs when you guys started dating. You knew it made him irritable and hard to be around. It also made him forgetful, which means he was probably high out of his mind somewhere and probably doesn't remember he promised to take you to brunch. Or the fact that it's your birthday.

You wipe the few stray tears off your cheek, careful not to ruin your makeup, before calling Sarah, inviting her and the pogues to have breakfast with you at your place. When you asked her about Rafe, she said she hadn't spoken to him and didn't know where he was.

-

The time was currently 10:22 pm, and you had just gotten home from your birthday dinner with your family. Rafe was supposed to be there too, but you had to lie and say he hadn't been feeling well. You could barely enjoy yourself. You still hadn't gotten so much as a text from him.

You slipped off your heels, but before you could make it up the stairs there was a ring at your doorbell. You opened the door to see Rafe standing there with flowers in hand.

"What do you want, Rafe?" You really didn't want to sit around and listen to his excuses.

"Baby, I'm sorry, really. Just please let me explain."

You scoffed but leaned against your doorframe, prompting him to keep going.

"Okay, so Kelce was throwing this party, and I wasn't going to go, but everyone kept messaging me saying I should at least swing by and everything since they hadn't seen me in a while. I went and it was supposed to be no more than 15 minutes, but things got out of hand..."

"Yeah Rafe, things got out of hand as in you stayed at the party and started doing fucking coke? Out of hand as in you got so high you didn't text me all day, on my birthday, while I'm worried sick about you?"

Rafe's eyes widened, obviously not expecting you to know about that. He outstretched his hand that was holding the flowers to you. "Baby I... I'm sorry. I can take you shopping to make up for-"

You smacked the flowers out of his hand and he flinched. Your voice was shaky as tears pooled in your eyes. "No Rafe! Money isn't going to fix this. Obviously, I'm not important enough for you to keep your promise. Getting high means more to you than being there for your girlfriend."

Before he could speak again, you slammed the door in his face and made your way upstairs even as he started to talk to you through the door before moving on to blowing up your phone. You blocked his number and went to bed, unsure of what was next for your relationship.

part 2

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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[slut-for-slutty-fictional-men]

Hey

I have a request for you about Harry Lewis :)

I‘d really like to read something with the “best friends brother” trope :) As in the reader is Rosie‘s friend (or if you don’t feel comfortable with this then maybe just make a sibling or even like a cousin or something up haha) and the reader and Harry have a secret relationship going on. This could honestly include a bit of everything haha. Smut would be really great but also a little angsty and fluffy :)

A/N: omfg yes i love this. ngl i struggled a bit w making a like timeline, but I think it turned out okay. Also, thanks for the request! I love writing them!!

Don’t Let Her Find Out

Pairing: Harry Lewis x Reader Trope: Best Friend's Brother Warnings: Secret romance, emotional tension, forbidden love, soft dom!Harry, smut, fluff, slow-burn payoff, confession, best friend conflict Summary: You’ve been hiding a six-month secret from your best friend Rosie: you’re in a relationship with her older brother, Harry Lewis. What started as a heated New Year’s kiss turned into a full-blown secret romance filled with stolen moments, guilt-laced touches, and quiet declarations behind closed doors. As the emotional weight of the lie builds, so does your fear of losing both of them. When Rosie discovers the truth, everything shatters. But through the fallout comes honesty, heartbreak, and a chance at something real—with a love that was never meant to be a secret. Word Count: 1600

Masterlist

You’re not proud of the fact that you lie to your best friend daily.

But it’s not like you planned on sleeping with Rosie’s brother.

Not at first.

Harry was just supposed to be Harry—annoying, chaotic, the boy who used to dunk your head in the pool when you were thirteen and laugh when you screamed. You weren’t meant to notice the way his voice deepened. Or how he filled out his shirts. Or the way he looked at you across the dinner table like he knew things he shouldn’t.

It started with one kiss.

New Year’s Eve. Rosie had passed out before midnight, and you were alone in the kitchen, tipsy off champagne and adrenaline. He leaned against the counter and smirked.

“Still can’t believe you never got with anyone in school. You were always hot—like in a terrifying way.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I mean it.”

Then came the silence. The weight. His fingers brushed yours when you passed him the bottle opener, and suddenly you weren’t breathing right.

“Are you gonna kiss me, or just keep staring at my mouth?”

You didn’t answer. But you kissed him.

And the rest… well, the rest is a secret you’ve been keeping for six months.

It’s hard. Not the sneaking around—not really. You’re good at slipping out of rooms, at pretending the hoodie you’re wearing isn’t his, at lying through your teeth when Rosie asks if you’re texting someone new.

What’s hard is the guilt.

She’s your best friend. Has been since you were fourteen. You’ve held her hair back while she cried over boys and stayed up whispering about dreams and fears and futures that never included this.

Never included Harry pressing you against the wall in her parents’ hallway. Or him fucking you in the downstairs bathroom while she watched Netflix two rooms away. Never included whispered promises, quiet moans, shared bedsheets you stripped before she woke up.

You hate yourself a little more each time.

But you love the way he touches you.

And maybe that’s worse.

It’s late when it happens—the beginning of the end.

Rosie invited you to stay over after a girls’ night. You claimed a headache early, begged off the bar. She left with the group in a dress that barely covered her thighs and a smile that made you ache with affection and shame.

Harry texted ten minutes later.

You still at the house?

You didn’t answer. But when he knocked on her window and whispered your name, you didn’t say no.

Now you’re in his bed, chest rising and falling as he looks at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. His hands are already under your shirt, and his mouth is on your neck, warm and wet and claiming.

“I missed you,” he breathes, voice rough against your throat. “Missed this.”

“Harry…”

“I know,” he whispers, pulling your top over your head and tossing it somewhere you’ll forget. “Tell me you want me.”

You hesitate.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he continues. “Even when I try. I dream about you. Wake up hard and aching and wishing you were in my bed.”

He unclasps your bra, slow, reverent, and your breath stutters.

His mouth finds your nipple, tongue soft at first, then firmer as he sucks gently. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and you bite your lip to stop the sounds clawing up your throat.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, kissing lower, over your stomach, fingers teasing at your waistband. “Nervous?”

“No.” Your voice is barely there. “Just... I don’t want to stop.”

“Then don’t.”

He slides your bottoms off, underwear dragged with them. You’re bare beneath him, thighs parted, heat pooling between your legs. He kneels between them, eyes dark, lips parted as he looks at you like art.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he whispers. Then he lowers his head.

His tongue licks a long, slow stripe up your center, and you gasp.

He licks again, more deliberately now, and your hips jerk. His hands hold you steady, thumbs pressing into your thighs, as he begins to eat you like he’s starving.

“Fuck, Harry—” you pant, fingers in his hair. “Please—”

He groans against you, the vibration making your toes curl. His tongue circles your clit, then flicks, then sucks, and you’re gone. Every nerve in your body is singing, and all you can do is cry out his name like a prayer.

“I need—” You can’t finish the sentence.

He does it for you.

“You need me to fuck you,” he growls, already pulling off his shirt. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

He pushes into you slowly, thick and hot, stretching you until your back arches and your eyes roll. You feel full, completely consumed, and when he bottoms out, you gasp.

“Look at me,” he commands, cupping your jaw. “Want to see your face.”

You do. And the look in his eyes nearly breaks you.

He fucks you slow, deep, each thrust dragging moans from your throat. It’s not fast. It’s not rough. It’s intimate. Desperate. Like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

You come first, clenching around him with a cry that sounds suspiciously like I love you. He kisses you through it, groaning as you squeeze him, and then he follows—grinding deep, cursing under his breath as he spills inside you.

You stay there, trembling, his weight on you comforting and heavy.

Then—your phone buzzes on the floor.

Rosie.

“Forgot my wallet, heading back. Be there in 10 x”

Your blood runs cold.

You scramble out of bed, heart racing.

“Shit. Shit, I have to go.”

Harry grabs your hand. “Just stay. We’ll tell her.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m serious. I’m not hiding anymore, Y/N. I care about you. I’m not doing this in the dark.”

You stare at him, mouth dry. “She’ll hate me.”

“No,” he says firmly. “She’ll be mad. But she’ll get over it. Because you’re not just some fuck to me.”

Your heart cracks wide open.

But you leave anyway.

You sneak back into Rosie’s spare room minutes before the front door opens. She doesn’t notice. You cry yourself to sleep.

It happens two days later. 

You think you’ve gotten away with it.

You left his room before she got home. You crept through the hallway in socks and silence. You even changed into the pajamas you’d “fallen asleep in” hours ago.

It’s nearly noon the next day when it unravels.

You’re curled up on Rosie’s sofa, pretending to scroll Instagram, when she walks in with her arms crossed. Her eyes are sharp. Calm—too calm.

“You forget something last night?”

You blink. “What?”

She tosses something onto the coffee table.

Your necklace.

The one you never take off.

The one that must have come off in Harry’s bed.

Your stomach sinks. “I—I must’ve dropped it in the bathroom.”

Her smile is tight. “Right. Except I found it in Harry’s room this morning.”

Silence.

“I saw the sheets, Y/N. They were still warm. And he was gone.”

You try to speak, but your mouth is dry.

“How long?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. “New Year’s.”

She laughs—sharp, humorless. “Six months? You’ve been lying to me for six months?!”

“Rosie—”

“Every time I told you about someone I was dating—every time I told you Harry was annoying or gross—you just sat there, like you weren’t fucking him behind my back.”

Tears burn behind your eyes. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it, Y/N? A game? A thrill?”

“No!” Your voice cracks. “It wasn’t a game. I didn’t plan for it to happen. It just—it started, and we couldn’t stop.”

“Jesus.” She backs away like you’re something rotten. “Was there ever going to be a point where you told me?”

You hesitate. That’s the problem. You don’t know.

“I wanted to,” you whisper.

“But you didn’t.” Her jaw clenches. “You made me look like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot—”

“Don’t.” Her voice breaks, and it’s the worst part—worse than the betrayal, worse than the silence. “You were my best friend. You were supposed to be the one person who wouldn’t lie to me.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say. You mean it. It still feels useless.

She exhales hard and turns away.

“I don’t want to see you right now.”

It’s days before you hear from either of them.

Then Harry shows up outside your flat, hair messy, eyes hopeful.

“I told her everything,” he says. “She’ll come around.”

You shake your head. “What if she doesn’t?”

He steps forward, cups your face in both hands.

“Then we’ll give her time. But I’m not losing you.”

Tears burn. “Why me?”

He kisses your forehead.

“Because you see through the bullshit. Because you make me feel like I can be more than the loud one. Because when I look at you, I see home.”

You crumble into him, and he holds you like he means it.

A week later, Rosie texts.

I still hate it. But I miss you. Come over—he’s not here.

And you cry. And then you go.

Because you’re building something honest now. Messy, but real.

And the next time Harry wraps his arms around you, you don’t pull away.

You lean in.

You stay.

[anyaeras]

request: Could you write a top!Agatha Harkness fic where she gets jealous seeing another girl flirting with reader and Agatha finally takes measures to claim reader as her property?

Teaching a Lesson || A.Harkness

Pairing: Top!Teacher!Agatha x Legal!Student reader

Summery: Y/n had been in a relationship with her Psychology professor Agatha Harkness for a while. Yet when y/n had been getting a bit to close with another student over a group project, Agatha couldn't help but reclaim her property.

Warnings : smut ,, AFAB!reader ,, gender!neutral!pronouns,, legal!age gap ,, teacherXstudent ,, semi!public sex ,, kinda mean!Agatha ,, gagging ,, mommy!kink ,, strap!on sex,, vibrator ,, degrading ,, praising ,, loads of pet names ,, possessive!Agatha ,, light nipple!play

Masterlist @anyaeras

──────────────────────

Sitting behind her desk Agatha finished getting papers ready for her lesson. As the class started to fill in Agatha stood getting started with her lesson on socializing and how it affects the human brain.

As always y/n greeted Agatha with a sweet smile when she walked into the class sitting down at a desk not far off from Agatha desk. The student had been sitting there since the start of the semester. Yet today their was a small change a young girl, she had transferred to Westview college not long ago, now also in the same psychology class had sat down next to Y/n today.

During the whole lesson the girl kept giggling and passing small notes making y/n smile. These actions didn't go unnoticed by Agatha who had cleared her throat to regather the two college students attention.

"May I ask why you two are disrupting my lecture?" Agatha Silk toned voice rang over the class filled with clear annoyance. Y/n quickly shook her head muttering a shy 'Sorry Miss' before trying to ignore the girl who she later learned her name was Kate giggles.

Agatha's lecture came to a lunch break, today being a 3 hour A and B part lesson. Normally y/n would stay with Agatha on lunch yet today Kate invited her to come eat with her and who was y/n to say no. Without much warning y/n left the room leaving Agatha a bit hurt before noticing she had a text from y/n.

"Kate invited me to go grab lunch with her, see you after class? <3" Agatha signed putting her phone down as she worked on her laptop silently until the half hour break came to an end, students filling back into the room.

Agatha carried on staying professional even when Kate and Y/n sneaked in a little late, y/n's face red from embarrassment, while kate just had a smirk on her face as she sat down back in the same seat. Agatha could feel the burning feeling of hate rising inside her as she kept going on.

"As we come to an end for the day. Does anyone have any questions I can clear up?" Agatha asked as she did at the end of every lesson.

"Yes, Miss Harkness. How do crushes affect one's mind in social settings?" Kate asked aloud the statment alone made Agatha scoff yet still staying true to her profession she answer the question.

"Often some may show it by blushing more, giggling or even being kinder to their said crush" Agatha muttered not going into much detail ready for this whole lecture to be over.

Finally it did end yet Kate hung back as y/n always did as they were waiting for Agatha.

"Y/n why don't you come out tonight with me and some friends, the new club downtown? See you at 8?" Kate called out leaving no room for a reply before slipping out of the room.

"I see you've made a new friend?" Agatha voice husked out as she packed up her things

"Oh yeah Kate she was super sweet, we went to a coffee house and-" y/n started to talk about her day yet was cut off by Agatha.

"Why did you come back late? Your face blushing? Did she make you laugh?" Agatha said her voice harsh. The tone alone stunning y/n.

"Agatha it was nothing"

"Just Nothing? she look at you like she wanted to take you right here infront of me!" Agatha snapped harshly stepping forward her hands cupping y/n's jaw.

"Agatha I swear" y/n tried yet it was no use they knew best how Agatha got in situations like this and it was best to just show Agatha that they were hers.

Y/n moved giving Agatha a soft kiss trying to calm her but was met with Agatha returning the kiss much harsher and slightly sloppy. Agatha's hands moved pushing y/n's down to their sides and holding them there.

"Why don't you be good for mommy and wait right here" Agatha purred before moving leaving y/n dazed behind her as she went to lock the classroom door, then moving back to her dark wooden desk opening the bottom draw revealing multiple fun-time toys.

A purple strap and vibrator she moved so that they sat now on top of her desk. The professor smirked at y/n's before giving a simple instruction.

"Go on doll face, strip." Agatha ordered smiling softly when y/n complied like the good little one they were. Their once simple outfit now pooling on the floor below. Left in nothing but a simple black bra and panties.

Reaching down Agatha grabbed some soft rope as she reached over tying y/n's hands behind their back smiling softly at them before giving y/n a sweet kiss.

"Mommy is gonna show you who owns you sweetheart" Agatha said a soft chuckle following behind her words.

"I know you do-" y/n once more was silenced the feeling of Agatha's fingers being shoved into their mouth was all that flooded their senses.

Agatha watched with a smirk as y/n's swirled their toung around her two digits that the dark haired women pressed oh so softly onto their tongue.

"So good for me sweetheart" Agatha purred before gently removing her fingers from y/n's mouth. Dragging her now wet finger down y/n's front stopping to remove the lacy bra letting it simply fall off, Agatha's wet fingers pitching and pulling at y/n's sensitive buds.

A small yelp came from y/n making Agatha stop abruptly.

"Shh my pet. You need to be silent for mommy" Agatha warned, and y/n was aware that it was a warning, next time they slipped up Agatha's would take action to fix their mistakes.

Agatha wet fingers left a trail as she dragged them down toward y/n's center, pulling her panties off in the process putting them on the desk next to them. Pushing y/n so that they were leaning onto the desk as well. Agatha then let her digits slip between her students folds collecting some of their slick.

"You're soaked. Is this for me Or for Kate?" The professor teased making y/n whine slightly at Agatha jealousy yet before they

Could protest anymore Agatha ruthlessly shoved two of her fingers into y/n's entrance, the loud yelp followed by a moan made Agatha tsk with fake pity.

"Sweetheart did I not just tell you to be quite for mommy? Such a dumb slut you are." Agatha said grabbing y/n's panties and shoving them into their mouth as a makeshift gag.

"Much better" the women purred as she fingered y/n's tight cunt.

Agatha used one hand to hold y/n steady trying to keep them standing as she fucked them harshly with her fingers. Her thumb coming up to press onto y/n's clit. Watching as their hips jerk up as a reaction, Agatha could feel y/n's pussy tighten around her fingers as she forced them to take a third stretching them slightly.

"Go ahead I know you wanna cum" She purred watching y/n's legs shake as she started to cum yet right as she was hitting her peak everything stopped, their orgasm ruined.

A whine muffled by the rough fabric which sat in their mouth came from y/n as Agatha ruined the feeling of absolute bliss.

"Aww you didn't really think mommy was going to reward you after you acted like such a slut all day? Silly thing you are" Agatha purred her breath hot on y/n's ear due to how close Agatha stood. The professor moved and readjusted y/n pushing her over the dark oak desk leaving her face down and ass up.

"Now why don't you show mommy that you can be good and not just a dumb little whore, don't cum without permission" Agatha said starting her sentence so sweetly, but ending quite bitter.

Agatha took the base of the purple silicon strap running it down y/n's dripping folds letting their pussy get the toy wet. Slipping it into Y/n's hole Agatha herself moaned at the sight.

"Your hungry pussy is taking me so well, greedy cunt" Agatha teased before starting to rut her hips into y/n's frame, thrusting hard enough that the desk moved slightly below them. Agatha held her hand over y/n's mouth pushing the makeshift gag deeper into the submissives mouth keeping them silent.

"Aww do you need to cum. Why don't you prove how much your mine and cum?" Agatha purred her other hand grabbing a vibrator from the side of the two, placing it against y/n's clit. Watching as their legs shook violently underneath them.

"Mommy can I cum?" Y/n's voice was muffled and distorted as they begged behind Agatha's hand.

"Go ahead, cum" as the few words of permission slipped off Agatha's tongue y/n fell to mush, rolling over her climax. Agatha supported y/n's weight yet didn't once stop even turning the vibrator up as she held it firmly to the students small bundle of nerves watching with a sly smirk as they got overstimulated, tears fell down y/n's face as the gag muffled her pleads for mercy.

"Come one show me how good of a slut you are for me give me another one baby" Agatha grunted out between her harsh trust, and within minutes y/n was releasing again. This time making a mess on the strap which sat nestled inside her from behind.

"You did so good for me sweetheart. How about we head home and get cleaned up" Agatha said softly praising y/n as she removed her cock from y/n's cunt. Cleaning up around them before pulling the soaking wet panties out of y/n's mouth as well.

"Let's head home and get you all cleaned up" Agatha said yet she watched as y/n's legged shook below them when they tried to take just a single step.

"Aww poor baby let mommy help you, looks like you won't be able to go out with Kate tonight you can't even walk" Agatha said with fake pity before helping y/n out of the classroom. So that they could enjoy their evening at home. Without any Kate of course.

[zepskies]

Hey could I please request headcanons for how Dean would react to reader texting him "she's busy" as a joke, yk kind of like

Dean: Hey baby

Reader: She's busy

I really hope this makes sense and isn't so confusing 😭😭

Ooh I think I know what you mean. 😏

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Word Count: 850

Imagine: Texting Dean when he's on a hunt.

Once again, Dean sighed while he waited on his brother.

They were stopped at a 7-Eleven gas station after a hunt, but Dean had long ago filled up Baby's tank. Sam was inside, grabbing a few snacks for the road tomorrow. Supposedly.

Dean fished out his phone from his pocket and texted him.

Hey, Driving Miss Daisy. You good in there?

A couple of minutes later, Sam responded.

Yeah, just getting a few things.

Dean rolled his eyes. Right.

For half an hour? What, you taking a shit or something?

Sam's response was testy, just as Dean predicted.

Dean, give me a minute. Jesus.

Dean sighed, with a roll of his eyes. He scrolled back into his texts and found your name. He was a couple of states over from Lebanon, but still within the same timezone. You should still be awake back at the bunker.

He decided he wanted to hear your voice, let you know that he and Sam were going to catch one more night of rest here at the motel before they made the long drive back home.

But...you didn't answer when he called.

Weird. You were typically a night owl, either watching something or plugging away at your laptop. He tried texting you instead.

Hey, baby. You up?

He eventually saw the three gray dots pop up. You were typing...

She's busy.

Dean frowned. What the hell?

Had you invited someone over? Like Jody or Donna?

But neither of them would've replied like that...so he texted back.

Stop messing around.

Dean tried calling you again, but it went directly to voicemail this time. In came another text from "you."

She'll call you back, dude.

Dean's jaw ticked with annoyance. And despite himself, unease began to creep in and churn his stomach.

What the fuck is this?

She's in the shower. I'll tell her to call you back, no worries.

All right. WHO is this?

Ooh, are you the boyfriend? Yikes lol.

A deep, slow breath made it through Dean's nose. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, reminded himself that he did, in fact, love you.

Then he responded.

Babe, if you don't call me in the next 30 seconds, there's gonna be hell to pay when I get home.

Dean checked his watch and actually counted. About ten seconds passed before his phone rang with an incoming call...from you. He answered.

"Promise?" came your teasing voice. When it ended on a giggle, Dean rolled his eyes and rested his head back on the seat. He blew out a frustrated breath.

"Oh, trust and believe. You're gonna fuckin' get it this time," he said, though his lips curved on a reluctant smirk. You full on laughed at him then.

"You make it too easy," you replied.

He knew this. It wasn't the first time you'd teased him, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

Still, he couldn't help being a bit irritated this time.

"You know, how would you like it if I did that to you?" he asked. "Wouldn't be so fucking funny then, would it?"

"...Okay. You're right. I'm sorry, baby," came your more contrite voice. But he could still hear your smile. Could imagine the way you might soothe a hand along his arm, if you were here.

"How about I make it up to you?" you offered.

That worked a slow smirk onto his face. "Yeah? What did you have in mind?"

For the next few minutes, you purred into his ear about all the things you'd been thinking of while he was gone. Daydreaming about the talents of his hands, lips, and tongue.

In particular, you reminded him about a certain birthday wish that he still hadn't claimed from a couple weeks ago, when he and Sam got wind of this hunt.

Two weeks really was too damn long, in your opinion. (He agreed with you.)

Now with a half-straining bulge in his jeans, Dean licked his lips and tightened his hand on the leather wheel of the car.

"All right. Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart," he said, deceptively breezy. As if you'd just told him you planned to make tacos for dinner.

"When are you getting home?" you asked.

He heard the tone of your voice, like black silk. It sent a tendril of heat down his spine, raising the hairs on his forearms.

"Tonight," Dean said. Deeper, a note of gravel in his words. "I'll see you tonight."

"Good." Once again, he heard the smile in your voice. "I love you."

He sighed, and raised a hand to card through his hair.

"Love you too...even though you play too fucking much," he muttered the latter bit.

Your laughter once again reached his ears, reluctantly making him smile.

He hung up with you just before Sam finally opened the passenger seat door and climbed in with two hefty grocery bags. Did he do a whole damn shopping spree in there?

...Whatever. Dean shook his head and started the car.

"Change of plan," he said. "We're heading home."

"What? Thought we were gonna catch a few hours of sleep. It's a long drive, Dean," Sam said, earning his brother's gaze.

"Yeah, well, you'll live," Dean snarked. A more devious grin spread across his face. "I've got a date."

And she's about to get punished.

The Impala's tires screeched as Dean pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

AN: Ha! This one was fun. 😘 Thanks for the prompt!

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[girlokwhatever]

₊˚ପ⊹˚୨୧⋆ ⋆༉‧₊˚.: ̗̀➛ she loves me, she loves me not,,

part 3 ; back and forth

previous part

paige bueckers x fem!reader (fake dating trope)

it’s been a week since you last saw paige, relentlessly rejecting her invitations to hangout and spend time together.

at first you were able to use the excuse of being sick as you feigned cough over the phone. but after five days, realizing no one else was sick and you sounded relatively fine, she stopped believing you. you only answered her phone calls, typically ignoring her texts and using the excuse of sleeping being the reason you hadn’t ever replied.

she was starting to get annoyed. especially when she saw you out in public with a group of your friends. you lied, and now she caught you red-handed.

she approached your friend group, recognizing a few of them. you were laughing, no cough and no watery eyes from the cold you claimed to have. if anything you seemed great, smile glowing like you didn’t have a care in the world.

“hey, babe!”

“paige- hey.. what are you doing here?” you attempt to keep the cheery tone of your voice alive, smile still plastered on your face.

“i could ask you the same thing.”

“i’ll catch up to you guys later.” you wave yourself goodbye, turning away from your friends in what seems like a loving embrace with paige.

she’s pissed. her brows are furrowed and there’s an evident frown on her lips as she looks at you. you try to come up with some excuse for being here, something to cover up your avoidance of the woman standing in front of you. nothing comes to mind though and you’re stuck in the awkward silence for a few moments.

“are we just gonna pretend like you haven’t been lying to me for a week?”

“i haven’t.”

“right. i can obviously see how deathly sick you are.”

the reality of your behavior started to sink in, guilt trickling into your consciousness. you knew you had your reasons though, even if it wasn’t properly executed.

after the party last weekend everything shifted for you. you knew it could only end one way and figured taking matters into your own hands wouldn’t be too bad. if you pushed her away, maybe whatever was going on between the two of you would fade.

it wasn’t. it consumed paige’s every breath. every thought and emotion. once she figured out you probably weren’t actually sick, her heart sank. she couldn’t understand what was going on with you or your ‘relationship.’ your lack of communication didn’t help much either.

“i don’t really want to talk about this.”

“then what else should we talk about? maybe we should talk about how all my friends are asking where my girlfriend went and i have to make up some lame excuse on why you refuse to talk to me. let’s talk about that. or maybe we can talk about how you’ve completely shut me out. or do you have nothing to say? like you’ve had nothing to say for a while fucking week.”

“shut up.”

“no, i-”

“shut up. bianca is like, ten feet away.”

she’s about to turn her head (amateur move) in the direction you’re looking but you stop her, managing to cup your hands around her face in time. her eyes still wander around trying to catch a glimpse of something, anything, but decides you’re the best view.

even though she’s mad, upset, and honestly hurt that you lied, she can’t feel that way forever when you look like that. you’re looking straight into her eyes like you’re searching for something. paige’s eyes scan over you in your entirety, especially landing on your lips every now and then.

and it’s as if, by some miracle, you understand what her eyes are saying. her eyes are saying something her words can’t and won’t say. without giving yourself time to process your decision, you pull paige in by the sides of her face and kiss her.

it’s surprisingly slow and sweet, only lasting a few seconds. you thought you’d panic into it but it just felt so natural. paige’s hands find solace on your hips, pulling you closer when you part from her lips.

she doesn’t know if bianca is still watching and honestly doesn’t even care. she pulls you into a kiss of her own, this one being much more desperate and heated. you have to grip the back of her neck to steady yourself as she pulls you further into her space. the kiss lasted longer than either of you intended, finally pulling away and fighting for air.

paige is still so close to you, holding your body against hers. she leans in, kissing your forehead, then moves her face down to your ear, “don’t ever avoid me like that again.”

you nod at her words, not taking the time to comprehend how serious her tone is. when you turn your head you catch a glimpse of bianca and she’s already staring back at you, a deep frown settled on her face. you look away from her instantly and focus back on paige, who is still standing in front of you with her hand on your cheek.

“i’m so sorry i did that, i really should’ve asked first.”

“nah, don’t apologize. girlfriends kiss, right?”

you experience a whirlwind of emotions almost instantly. realizing everything that’s happened in the span of five minutes astonishes you undoubtedly. you can’t believe you kissed paige, and even more so than that, you can’t believe she kissed you back. out of her own free will, she pulled you back into another kiss.

paige was probably the best you’ve ever had too, but you don’t really have her.

it’d been a few weeks since the beginning of your scheme with paige. things were starting to go better, get more casual. she was sitting on your couch next to you, your legs draped over hers as you watched a movie together.

you never ended up officially talking about the kiss or the fact that you ignored her. you were thankful that she just let those moments pass because you honestly had no idea what kind of excuse you could make up for either.

paige’s hand brushed through your hair and gently pulled out any tangles as she went. it was sweet, loving even. anyone from an outside perspective would think it to be highly romantic.

“hey, i think im gonna go out with my friends tonight. eva’s trying to plan this friend get-together thing.”

she turns to you, peeling her eyes away from the screen. her gaze flickers between your eyes and lips, something you don’t notice because you’re texting eva back.

paige can’t help but to think about how beautiful you are, especially when it’s her shirt you’re wearing. it’s nothing out of the ordinary, even before your predicament, but it feels much more intimate now.

“that’s cool. where’re yall gonna go?”

“to a club i think. eva’s a party girly.”

“like you?”

you feign a gasp, finally looking at paige. she’s looking back at you with a grin because she loves to tease you and she loves being right.

“like me?! i’m not,” you’re shaking your head in denial. there’s still a smile on both of your faces when you lock eyes. paige’s hand stills in your hair, traveling down to the back of your neck.

she hardly even registers that she pulls your face into her, meshing your lips together. she kisses you, slotting her lips between yours in a delicate moment of intimacy. you kiss her back like it’s second nature to you. you find so much peace and comfort in paige that you practically forget she’s only your friend.

you’re pulling away first with wide eyes and pinker lips. paige also seems to be snapping back to reality, immediately standing up and apologizing.

“shit- princess i’m so sorry. i just forgot-”

you cut her off; the awkwardness of the moment being close to unbearable, “it’s okay paige. i’m just gonna..”

“yeah, you should.. y’know.”

“yeah.. i’ll go get ready. you can um..”

“i’ll just go, yeah. i’ll see you later.”

“see ya.. i’ll, y’know, text you later.”

“sounds good.”

she leaves you to the silence of your apartment, the soft hum of the air conditioning suddenly seeming so deafening. paige’s voice buzzes in your ear as you stare at her spot on the couch. millions of emotions and revelations wash over you like holy water, and finally the stars seem to align for you. you finally have some semblance of understanding as to why.

you feel a tear trickle down your face, rolling over your cheek and eventually down your chin. you sit back down on the couch while more tears continue to fall, a choked sob escaping you before you even register how upset you really are.

you love paige. it was so hard to admit to yourself, guilt creeping in at the thought that maybe, in some way, bianca was right. it had been a long time since you loved bianca, always naturally gravitating towards paige more and you could see how that would hurt her. there was no physical cheating, but mentally you had always been with paige.

paige is the best you’ve ever had relationship-wise, but you can never have her. she’s this untouchable entity, one that could ruin your life if you let her. if you get with her, bianca was right and no one can deny it.

you think that maybe you put yourself and paige in this position on purpose subconsciously because this was the only way you felt like you could have her. maybe it was a form of further.

but now that your situation is actually live, it’s slapped in your face how fake it is. none of those feelings were real for her. it was all a game you two were playing.

maybe you were right. you couldn’t have her.

you wiped your tears away, pulling yourself off the couch and towards your room. you needed to escape into your own form of reality, one that wouldn’t come back to haunt you.

since you’ve finally been able to successfully admit your unrealistic and unrequited feelings for paige, you can begin to move on from them. maybe tonight you could find something to help you move on. or someone.

⍣ ೋ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊🀥·˚ ༘

GUYS I WILL SPELL CHECK THIS SOME OTHER TIME

why do i feel like this series makes zero sense

guys if you have genuine feedback pls lmk PLS

like is this even good anymore seriously.

[artsninspo]

COUNTERFEIT - three

⇽ part two

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

🍒 authors note: the story is starting to heat up and give you a sneak peak of whats to come.

🍒 pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Faith (Original Character) All my characters are black women.

🍒 word count: ~1.8K

🍒 summary: A day party, unexpected guest, damsel in distress, a lot of stress. Confrontation, unexpected chivalry, back stories & unfavourable truths. This one's messy 🌪️ .

🍒 three - unnatural habitats

I try my best for courage as the city scenes change from outside my window. I can feel Char’s eyes on me. Our argument was conveniently well timed. Now, if I don't show up now to this PR activation of her’s i’ll be toast. The worst sister in the world, problem child extraordinaire. It’s not that I don't want to support Char, it's that Jasonwas invited. In order to secure the necessary funding to make things go off without a hitch she enlisted him knowing his firm's coffers are deep. Knowing Jason, he will be in attendance. It’s the root of my reluctance to attend, not some petty spat and a childish attempt to get even. Char and I didn't speak until last night when she placed the dress she wanted me to wear today on my bed. A pinterest board of context for how I needed to look followed via text along with a detailed itinerary. I reacted to the messages with thumbs up and sat in the make-up artists and hair stylists chairs when they arrived smiling, laughing and talking with them - conceding and playing the role everyone wished to be my permanent disposition.

“Where were you last night?” Char asks, drawing me from my thoughts.

I take a breath before looking over at her, “Out” 

Char rolls her eyes at me before smoothing out her dress - it’s rare vintage and gorgeous. “Out where?” she probes.

“Drinking” I respond being short with her and she sighs.

“Whatever, screw your life up. The rest of us are responsible enough to be your backup plans” she snaps but i’m not in the mood for a back and forth.

“I can act the fool during your event if that's what you want?” I threaten her knowing the social game of chess well. Char glares at me in response. She knows she doesn't have to beg me not to. She knows I'd never knowingly light a match to anything she loves.

“I don't want that - I want the best for you Faith and you're just. I don't know what you're doing!” she shouts.

“I’m 24 and you're 25 Char, what the hell! We’ve got our entire lives ahead of us.”

“How many weddings have we been to the past few summers? How many housewarmings and baby showers?” Char snaps like any one of these guys we grew up with is worth getting to claim her in any way.

“That’s where the party dies Char. How many of our friends are the same?” I ask her.

“Just because you resent Merrick-” Char starts.

“It’s not about Merrick” I snapped, tired of that narrative. “None of this shit is real Char, I don't mind playing pretend but the charade has to end at some point! If mom didn’t have Merrick we could still live the way we do. We have an uncle you know, our fathers brother.”

“Drug money” she whispers well indoctrinated. Char looks at me appalled by my suggestion.

“Because corporations are not just as exploitative and damaging to communities, and the environment?” I ask and she looks at me like I'm a mongrel. Daddy would roll in his grave. That’s the fundamental difference - our father was never self righteous. He never made his choice of employment out to be the right thing - it was just a means to take care of his family. Char was his princess and I was his shadow. 

“Our father killed people and destroyed families with the poison he pumped into the community. Merrick is nothing like that” She snaps as the car comes to a halt. I exit the car and skip photo opps heading straight into the venue I’ve had a hand in decorating - I’m not in the mood to schmooze or network. I head to the bar and get my first round as the music gets good. I throw a few shots back heading over to mingle and maintain my reputation as the ‘fun’ sister. Girls twerk around me but I spare my sisters the embarrassment of my participation. I’m on a cool down when I see Jason watching me with longing. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much in his company. I want to run but I can’t because we’ve made eye contact. He looks like he’s been going through it and I can't imagine how much it hurts him to see me looking unaffected by our end.

“Hey” he shouts over the music, having cleared the distance between us.

“Hey” I responded.

“You look beautiful” He smiles with a hand on my hip. It should be familiar and refreshing but it just isn't. He pulls me in coming in for a kiss but I turn my head and step out of his hold before looking at him again.

“Thanks” I mutter, not nearly drunk enough to forget we're over.

“Babe, can we talk?” He asks, lips brushing against my ear.

“We spoke already,” I remind him.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he says.

“Because Jason I have nothing more to say!” I say louder my impatience growing.

“Then listen to me, I love you” he says and for a moment the declaration moves me. But then something about him reminds me of Rick and it all goes away.

“Then let me go,” I plead. Jason searches my eyes before anger flashes in his. He pulls me to him like this is a bid for attention, a game of cat and mouse - a way to spice up our relationship and not a breakup.

“You want more attention, I get it. I’m here. I'll work less hours and make more time for us Faith. I love you - stop being like this” he says confirming my suspicions. It's a testament to how well I’ve gotten to know him and how little he’s been paying attention. The whole thing makes me upset and I pull away but he grabs my arms.

“Hey!” A deep voice says in warning. I relax, relieved security is here but I turn to see D’s cousin Rio. His expression is displeased as he sizes Jason up. Jason releases my arms - caught in his below the board behaviour. He straightens and my head spins. Rio’s the last person I expected here or defending me. He gives me a reassured nod before glaring at Jason like Jason has lost his everloving mind. Jason goes to grab me again before Rio steps between us.

“She’s my girl, move” Jason snaps.

“Doesn’t look like it” Rio responds unmoved.

“Why don’t you go and mind your business?” Jason snaps.

“Faith, is this your boyfriend?” Rio asks, casting a look over his shoulder at me, all the while still using his body as a shield.

“I know everyone she knows and I don’t know you” Jason snaps.

“You can do better than this, ma” Rio taunts with a smile that’s only purpose is to provoke Jason.

“Ma?! Faith, who the hell is this guy?’ Jason snaps ready to make a scene.

“Jason, call me when you aren’t drunk” I shout, needing to diffuse the situation for Char’s sake.

“Faith, don’t walk away from me” he shouts, stepping around Rio to grab at me again and it happens so fast I’m shocked. Jason is grabbed by security and his wallet is plucked from his pocket. Another guard snaps a picture of his license.

“Don’t worry, he won’t be allowed back” the guard says. I force a mortified nod as security makes quick work of throwing Jason out discreetly. A few eyes are on us, Char among them.

Fuck, I curse to myself.

“Thanks” I mumble and Rio turns to face me.

“Let me guess, finance?” He says.

My head is still spinning. “What?”

“He works in finance so he thinks people can be bought? And has shit to lose that's why he aint swing on me for talking to his ‘girl’” Rio says with a knowing, taunting light in his eyes. It kills all of the chivalry of his actions.

“Yes, finance” I admit and he looks me over again like I can do better. 

“Well D would’ve wanted me to look out,” he shrugs cooly.

“Thanks” I respond, feeling deflated.

“I’ll tell the staff you're a friend of the family, you need anything let us know” he comments glancing around the venue.

“Appreciate it” I mutter seeing Char’s wide eyes behind him as she makes her way over.

“No worries. But don’t ever come to the bar dressed like that you hear?” He winks walking away.

“Who was that? He’s hot!” Char asks as Rio disappears. 

“D’s cousin” I answer honestly.

“How do you know him? I don’t remember this cousin.” she asks.

“He was around when I saw D” I omit the full truth and she looks in his direction some more.

“He’s hot” she repeats and I smile.

“He’s not your type”

“What?” she asks.

“I'm pretty sure he doesn’t fit your criteria” I tell her.

“What does he do?” She asks.

“He looks like he does whatever he wants.” I tell her heading back to the bar. The bartender hands me a cherry margarita before I can order.

“From the boss” he smiles and I do too. My sister watches me with a hundred questions when I don’t pay and I know it’ll be a long interrogation. I wonder if Rio’s actions are genuine kindness or flirting - either way the man is attentive and clearly dangerous. I head home shortly after the incident, skipping out on the after parties. When I wake up I see a slew of emails from Jason and roll my eyes. I see a message from char saying she’s doing hot yoga and relax until my phone rings. I check the caller ID with one eye open and see Diego’s name. Relief washes over me and I answer.

“Hello”

“Char called”  Diego says on the other end of the video call.

“Yeah?” I ask and he nods.

“Asking if you were involved with my cousin” Diego says and I roll my eyes.

“Jason was sloshed and getting aggressive instead of my sister intervening your cousin did.” I explain.

“I know he told me, then asked me if guys like Jason are your type” Diego says with a knowing expression.

“We both know he isn’t” I admit. “How's the play off season going at the bar?” I ask.

“Good. You low on money?” he asks.

“No, I've been living off the tips and saving my salary. It’s nice.” I admit.

“Rio’s out of town next weekend so if you want to work let me know” he offers.

“I’m in” I tell him.

“Good”

“Did Char tell you she thinks Rio is hot?” I ask and his eyes bug out.

“Rio isn’t her type, he has a son and two girlfriends” D says, surprising even me.

“Two” I exclaim shocked and D nods. “And he’d pretend Char’s the only one,” I add, shaking my head.

“Good at it too,” D scoffs, making me laugh.

“Then he’s exactly her type, she still believes in playing pretend” I tell Jason who swallows.

“Both of you need to stay away from him.” D says before changing the subject to something lighter.

group project - COUNTERFEIT (RIO)

authors note: checking in with readers. the first chapter did well but the second not so much. idk if you all are busy or tired with the state of the world, tired of rio or adjusting to the change in POV. Whatever the case I'm willing to pause updating this story for now and revisit updating it later.

This story is a slower burn than Forgiveless but I promise all the mess and spice you love and more is on the horizon.

Comment, Like & Reblog if you want more of this story.

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