#but that's not enough excuse for not showing her at the end of the season

[helen-with-an-a]

Putting on a Show (18+)

This is thoroughly, thoroughly self-indulgent as it is my birthday. It's a long one and almost entirely all smut, so I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think.

Ona Batlle x Reader

Description: Ona has a plan

TW: Smut; 18+ only

Word Count: 8.1k

I am no better than a man

Ona had a plan, one that had been simmering in the back of her mind for weeks. It was a simple idea at first, a fleeting thought that had gradually grown into something more substantial with each passing day. She had nurtured it quietly, letting it develop in the quiet moments between matches, in the late-night hours when sleep was elusive, and in the rare, fleeting minutes of solitude. Today, finally, she was ready to bring it to life.

It was the first day off she’d had in well over 6 weeks. The relentless pace of the season had been gruelling. International camps had wedged themselves between a never-ending stream of commitments – Liga F fixtures, intense Copa de la Reina showdowns, and the high-pressure Champions League matches. The packed schedule had left little room for anything else, least of all for the two of you to spend any meaningful time together. Every moment was consumed by the game, leaving her little chance to focus on anything other than training, tactics, and recovery.

But today was different. The plan, meticulously crafted and eagerly anticipated, was set to unfold. Ona had been waiting for this moment – a chance to break free from the rigid routines and the demands of professional football, even if just for a day. A chance to reconnect with you, to remind herself of the life beyond the pitch, and to bring to life the idea that had danced around in her head for so long.

Her plan had technically started the night before. With a sense of purpose that belied her casual demeanour, Ona had set things in motion. She joined some of the girls for an evening out, knowing full well how the night would unfold. They hit a few favourite spots, laughed over drinks, and soaked in the rare moment of freedom away from the rigours of their usual routine. But while the others might have been intent on letting loose, Ona had a different objective in mind. She made sure to enjoy herself – laughing, dancing, and sipping just enough to reach that perfect balance where she could still think clearly, yet feel a little lighter, a little more carefree.

She was careful, though, never crossing the line from pleasantly tipsy to outright drunk. Every move she made was deliberate, every drink measured. She had a plan to follow, after all, and it required her to stay in control. When the others decided to continue the night, she graciously bowed out, offering an easy smile and the excuse that she wanted to rest up. But really, Ona knew this part of the plan was crucial.

You had opted out of the evening from the start, claiming pure exhaustion after the relentless weeks of training, travel, and matches. The prospect of a quiet night and an early bed was too appealing to resist. Ona hadn’t been surprised by your decision; in fact, she had counted on it. It worked perfectly in her favour.

She made sure to put on a bit of a show as she prepared for the night out. It was all part of the plan, every detail carefully considered. With a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips, she switched on some gentle music, the kind that filled the room with a soft, inviting rhythm. The melodies flowed through the air, creating an atmosphere that was both relaxed and intimate. As the music played, Ona began to move, letting the beat guide her. Her hips swayed effortlessly, a subtle, rhythmic motion that was as natural as breathing, yet deliberately captivating.

Ona knew you were watching her. She could feel your eyes on her as she made her way through the room, and she leaned into it, letting the music draw her movements out, make them more fluid, more intentional. She moved with a grace that seemed almost unconscious, but every step, every turn, was a silent invitation for you to keep watching.

Taking her time, Ona lingered over her skincare routine, something that was usually a quick and functional process. Tonight, though, she turned it into a ritual. She smoothed the lotions and creams onto her skin with slow, deliberate strokes, as if savouring the feel of the products, letting them soak in not just to nourish her skin, but to heighten the anticipation that hung in the air. She caught your gaze in the mirror, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint, and smiled softly to herself, knowing she had your full attention.

Applying her makeup became an art form, each brushstroke and touch of colour done with care and precision. She took significantly longer than usual, drawing out the process, knowing you were watching her every move. The way you followed her with your eyes, tracking her as she moved around the room, was exactly what she wanted. It was part of the game she was playing, a way to keep you intrigued, to keep you wondering what was going through her mind.

For the final act, Ona had saved her outfit – or at least, part of it. She had chosen a tight white crop top, the fabric hugging her torso and finishing just below her bra line, though she had conveniently "forgotten" to wear that particular item. The top clung to her curves, the soft fabric hinting at the shape beneath, while leaving just enough to the imagination. But it wasn’t just the crop top that made a statement. As she sat at the vanity in your shared bedroom, her dark blue thong was on full display. The fabric, or lack thereof, hugged her in all the right places, accentuating her figure and adding an extra layer of allure to the scene.

She knew exactly what she was doing. Every movement, every choice was part of a calculated plan to captivate you, to draw you in, and to leave you wanting more. And as she caught your gaze in the mirror once again, a slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. Ona was in control, and she knew that tonight, the night she had carefully orchestrated from the very beginning, was only just beginning.

"Bub, do you have to go out?" you asked from the bed, your voice carrying a note of quiet pleading, as she slipped on her trousers, purposefully turning around and struggling to pull the material over her curves. The question hung in the air; your words softened by the drowsiness that had settled over you after the long, exhausting weeks. You watched her from where you lay, the comfort of the bed pulling you deeper into its embrace, yet your eyes remained fixed on Ona as she moved around the room with an almost hypnotic grace. The dim light of the room, combined with the gentle music in the background, made everything feel dreamlike, and you couldn’t help but wish she would abandon her plans and stay with you instead.

"Why don’t you just stay in?" you continued, your tone taking on a more persuasive edge as you propped yourself up on one elbow, trying to meet her gaze. The thought of her leaving after the demanding schedule you both had endured over the past few weeks made your heart sink a little. It had been such a hectic time, with barely any moments to breathe, let alone spend quality time together. The idea of her heading out into the night, while you remained behind, felt almost unbearable.

"It’s been a long couple of weeks," you argued softly, trying to appeal to her weariness, hoping she would see the sense in staying home. Your eyes followed Ona’s every movement, the way she meticulously finished getting ready, and you couldn’t help but notice the little details – how her skin glowed from her careful skincare routine, how the soft material of her crop top clung to her in all the right ways. Despite how stunning she looked, a part of you wished she would change her mind, slip out of her outfit, and climb back into bed with you, where you could both relax and enjoy each other's company without any distractions.

You could hear the faintest hint of longing in your own voice, a subtle plea for her to choose you over the night out. The quiet intimacy of your shared space, the warmth of the bed, and the comfort of simply being together seemed like the perfect alternative to whatever the night might hold for her outside. You knew how much she enjoyed these rare moments of freedom, but still, you couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, she'd decide that tonight, staying in with you was the better option.

She pouted, her lips forming a soft, irresistible curve, accentuated by the sheen of the lip gloss she had just applied. The gloss caught the light, making her lips look even fuller, the subtle sparkle adding a touch of allure to her playful expression. It was a look designed to tug at your heartstrings, a mix of teasing and genuine consideration, as if she was weighing your suggestion against her own plans.

For a moment, Ona’s eyes lingered on you, taking in the sight before her. You did look thoroughly inviting, wrapped in the familiar comfort of your shared space. One of her ratty old Nike tops, well-worn and slightly oversized, draped over your frame, the fabric soft from years of use. It was one of those shirts that held a certain nostalgia, infused with memories of countless lazy mornings and late-night talks, a tangible piece of the life you two had built together. The sight of you in it stirred something warm and tender within her, a reminder of the simple, quiet moments you both cherished.

The fluffy duvet was tucked around you, enveloping you in its warmth, adding to the picture of cozy domesticity. You looked so at ease, so content, with your head resting lightly on the pillow, the soft material of the duvet pulled up to your chin. Your hair, slightly tousled from your earlier nap, framed your face in a way that made you look even more endearing, and the faint trace of a smile on your lips only deepened Ona’s internal conflict.

The way you looked at her, with that irresistible blend of sleepy affection and a hint of desire, made it abundantly clear that you wanted her to stay. It tugged at Ona’s heart in a way she hadn’t anticipated. For a moment, as she stood there with those glossy, inviting lips pouted just so, she seriously considered giving in. The idea of abandoning her plans and curling up next to you, of letting the night slip away while the two of you revelled in each other's warmth, was incredibly tempting. The image of the two of you tangled up in the duvet, talking softly or just lying in comfortable silence, made her heart flutter. She could almost feel the softness of the sheets, the way your body would fit perfectly against hers, the steady rhythm of your breathing lulling her into a state of peaceful contentment.

But then she caught herself. No. She had a plan – a carefully crafted plan that she’d been piecing together for weeks. That was the whole reason she was doing this, the reason she’d put on the show, the reason she was dressed and ready to go out.

Ona took a deep breath, steeling herself against the temptation. She reminded herself of how she wanted tomorrow to go, how all the little pieces she’d set into motion would come together. This was the kind of plan that required patience and a bit of sacrifice. And as much as she wanted to climb into bed with you right then and there, she knew that sticking to her plan would make everything even more worth it in the end.

So, she held onto that pout just a little longer, letting it soften into a small, knowing smile. “You know I’d love to stay, bellesa meva” she said, her voice warm and affectionate, “but I promise, this will be worth it.” She leaned down to give you a soft, lingering kiss, the taste of her lip gloss lingering on your lips as she pulled away. It was a kiss full of unspoken promises, a reminder that she wasn’t going out to escape you, but to create something memorable for the both of you.

With one last glance at you, tucked so comfortably in bed, she straightened up and gave a little wink. “I’ll be back before you know it,” she added, her tone playful yet full of intent. She leaned back down, gifting you a sweet kiss, filled with the promise of more.

And with that, she turned and headed for the door, her heart beating a little faster as she reminded herself of what was to come. The plan was in motion, and as much as she wanted to stay, she knew that leaving was the right choice. The night was just beginning, and when she returned, everything would be just as she had envisioned.

When Ona woke up in your arms the next morning, she felt a wave of contentment wash over her, knowing that the second part of her plan was now in motion. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room and highlighting the peacefulness of the moment. She lay there for a few seconds, savouring the feel of your body pressed close to hers, the steady rise and fall of your chest beneath her. She could tell you were awake – your fingers were drawing random patterns on her ribs, the feeling making her tingle and goosebumps rise up on her skin.

Her head was nestled against your collarbone, a spot that had become so familiar and comforting over time. With each breath she took, she could feel the warmth of your skin against her cheek, and as she exhaled, her breath fanned out gently against your neck. The closeness between you was palpable, a kind of intimacy that came not just from physical proximity but from the deep bond you shared. Your legs were tangled together in a way that made it impossible to tell where you ended and she began, your bodies seamlessly intertwined in a comfortable heap of limbs.

Ona marvelled at how natural it felt to wake up like this, how your limbs, no matter how intertwined, seemed to fit perfectly together, as if they were meant to be like this. Her arm was draped over your torso, her hand gripping onto the fabric of your shirt.

She knew you knew she was awake. The subtle shift in your breathing, the gentle tightening of your arm around her, and the way your hand began to drift slowly down her body were all telltale signs. You were playing a familiar game, one that she loved more than she could ever put into words. Your hand moved with an unhurried, maddening rhythm, fingers brushing over her skin with just the right amount of pressure, lingering in places that made her breath catch. It was a slow, deliberate dance of touch and sensation, designed to tease and heighten her awareness of every inch of her body that you explored.

Ona felt a shiver run down her spine as your hand traced the curve of her waist, sliding down the dip of her lower back before gliding back up again, repeating the motion with a rhythm that was both soothing and intoxicating. Each pass of your hand over her skin sent ripples of anticipation through her, stirring a heat that built with each gentle caress. The sensation was enough to make her want more, to crave the touch of your hand moving lower, pressing harder, but you kept the pace slow, drawing out the moment, savouring her reaction.

She couldn't help but shift her hips, instinctively seeking more contact, more friction, as your hand continued its torturous path. The slight movement brought her body closer to yours, pressing her body against yours in a way that her toes curl. Your thigh, firm and strong, pressed against her clit as she shifted, creating a pressure that was nothing short of heavenly. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through her, making her gasp softly against your neck.

The pressure of your thigh against her was perfect – just enough to tease, to keep her on the edge, while leaving her yearning for more. She could feel the heat pooling low in her belly, the tension building with each subtle shift of her hips. It was a delicious kind of torture, the kind that made her want to lose herself in the sensation, to let go of everything except the feeling of you against her. The maddening rhythm of your touch and the pressure of your thigh were driving her to the brink, her body responding with an urgency she could barely contain.

You smiled slyly at her movements, a knowing glint in your eyes as you watched her. The subtle shifts in her body, the way she shifted her hips and pressed closer to you, were all part of a carefully orchestrated plan that you were fully aware of. Last night, when Ona had sat down on the bench in front of you, wearing your favourite blue thong of hers, you had known exactly what she was up to. The thong, with its daring cut and dark colour, had been a deliberate choice – a bold statement that spoke volumes about her intentions.

From the moment she had switched on the slower, more sensual music as she began to get ready, you had recognised the cues. The music set a mood that was unmistakable, a deliberate contrast to the usual upbeat tunes that accompanied her preparations. The soft, seductive melodies had been a clear signal of her plans, an invitation to indulge in a night of intimacy and connection. You could practically feel the rhythm of the music syncing with your own heartbeat, heightening the anticipation for what was to come.

As you had felt Ona climb into bed beside you later that night, her short, tight top still hugging her body and her underwear on full display, it was evident that she was playing a game, and you were more than willing to play along. The sight of her dressed like that, with every curve and contour accentuated, had been a delicious tease. Her presence beside you, her warmth pressing against you, was an enticing mix of sensuality and closeness, perfectly aligning with the plan you knew she had in mind.

If she wanted to put on a show, to tease and tantalise, you were more than happy to let her. You were fully aware of her intentions, and rather than resisting or interrupting, you found yourself enjoying the dance she was performing. Her subtle hints, her knowing smiles, and the way she moved with purpose and grace were all part of a game you both enjoyed – a way to deepen your connection and explore each other's desires.

The way she looked at you, the way she deliberately brushed against you, was all part of the seductive choreography that had begun the moment she had started getting ready. If she wanted to turn up the heat, to push boundaries, or to indulge in promises that had been simmering all night, you were more than ready to let her. After all, it was a game you both enjoyed.

Just as she was about to tip over the edge, her body trembling with anticipation, you suddenly and roughly squeezed the flesh of her arse, halting her movements entirely. The unexpected pressure jolted her, causing a sharp intake of breath and an involuntary gasp that escaped her lips. The sensation was a mix of surprise and intense pleasure, the sudden, firm grip on her body sending waves of heightened sensitivity through her.

She let out a soft, frustrated whimper, her voice laden with a mix of irritation and desperation. “Wh-no, bellesa meva,” she whined pitifully, her words barely coherent in the throes of her near-release. The endearment rolled off her tongue in a blend of longing and annoyance, a testament to the frustration she felt at being so tantalisingly close yet abruptly denied. Her eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours with a pleading gaze, the heat in her expression both intense and vulnerable.

Her hips were still, frozen in the position you had left them, her body quivering slightly from the lingering intensity of the interrupted pleasure. The flush on her cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her chest only underscored her agitation. She wanted to reach the peak, to feel the release she had been so close to achieving, but the sudden stop had left her hanging in a state of frustrated anticipation.

With a soft, almost desperate pout, she looked up at you, her voice catching slightly as she continued to whine. “I was so close,” she murmured, her tone a mixture of pleading and exasperation.

The way she looked at you, her eyes searching yours with an almost desperate hope, made it clear how much she had been invested in the experience. She had savoured the build-up, every touch, every movement that had led her to the brink, only to be pulled back just before she could reach the climax she had been yearning for. Her pout was an expression of the frustration that came from being tantalisingly close to release but abruptly denied, a stark contrast to the playful teasing that had marked the rest of the evening.

“Trust me, bubba, I am well aware of just how close you were,” you teased, a smirk playing on your lips as you tightened your grip once more. The firmness of your touch was both punishing and invigorating, accentuating the delicious tension that had been building between you. You knew precisely what you were doing, prolonging the game in a way that made her squirm with both anticipation and a hint of impatience.

“But you put on such a show last night,” you continued, your tone carrying a playful edge that was both affectionate and slightly mocking. You pouted theatrically, the gesture adding to the teasing atmosphere. “Did you really think I would let all your hard efforts go to waste?” The question was rhetorical, meant to underscore the fact that her deliberate display and the care she had taken to set the scene were not going to be disregarded so easily.

“You wanted me to watch you,” you said, your voice softening slightly as you looked into her eyes, the teasing edge giving way to a more tender undertone. “You wanted me to see you, to appreciate all the effort you put into this.” Your words were turning Ona on even more – she could feel herself get wetter by the second. The fabric of her underwear clung uncomfortably to her, damp and sticky, exacerbating the sensation of need and anticipation. Each slight movement caused the fabric to rub against her sensitive skin, intensifying the feeling of pressure and desire.

Your gaze remained steady, your eyes locked onto hers with a look that was both commanding and affectionate. The way you spoke, acknowledging the care she had taken in preparing for the evening and recognising her desire for you to witness it all, made her pulse quicken. She felt a delicious mix of embarrassment and thrill, knowing that her efforts were having the exact effect she had hoped for.

“So, Ona,” you continued, your voice now carrying a more provocative tone, “why don’t you put on a little show?” The challenge in your voice was unmistakable, the eyebrow you raised adding an extra layer of daring to your request. The playful, almost mischievous glint in your eyes dared her to fulfil your demand, to turn the moment into something even more exhilarating.

The invitation was clear: you wanted her to perform, to take the teasing you had started and turn it into an act of intimate exhibitionism. The thought of putting on a show for you, of turning the tables and making the night revolve around her display of desire, sent a thrill through Ona. Her mind raced with the possibilities, her body aching for the opportunity to respond to your challenge. She could feel the heat rising within her, the urgency of her arousal demanding release.

Ona didn’t like to back down from challenges. She was fearless on the pitch and just as brave off it. She thrived on pushing boundaries and embracing opportunities to showcase her strength, both physical and emotional.

With a determined smile curving her lips, Ona began to slowly shift her body, each movement chosen carefully and infused with purpose. Her eyes locked onto yours, a confident glint of mischief and resolve reflected in their depths. The smile on her face was both sultry and resolute, a clear signal that she was ready to rise to the occasion and meet your challenge head-on. You placed your hands on her hips, not guiding but as a silent acknowledgement that you were there, a subtle reminder of who she was doing this for.

She started by shifting her hips with a deliberate, twisting motion, the fabric of her tight top brushing against her skin as she moved. Her body rolled gracefully; every curve accentuated by the dim light that filtered through the room. The anticipation in the air was palpable, creating a charged atmosphere that seemed to hum with expectation. Each subtle shift of her hips, each arch of her back, was designed to captivate and tease, drawing you in and making every moment feel like a tantalising eternity.

As Ona continued her performance, she made sure every gesture was both seductive and purposeful. Her hands roamed over her body, lightly grazing her curves and creating a visual feast that was impossible to ignore. The fabric of her underwear, already damp with her arousal, pressed against her skin with a heightened intensity, making every movement feel electric. The way she arched her back and pushed her chest forward, the way she traced her fingers over her own body, was all part of an intricate dance designed to keep you enthralled.

You let your eyes roam freely, taking in every detail of Ona’s hypnotic performance. The movement of her body, fluid and captivating, drew you in completely. The dim light that bathed her in a soft, golden glow made her skin appear even more luminous, creating a halo effect that heightened the allure of her presence.

Your gaze followed the way her muscles rippled beneath her skin, the gentle movement of her abs and the curve of her waist as she moved. The sight of her body in motion, so perfectly attuned to the rhythm of the moment, made your heart flutter with a mixture of excitement and admiration.

You knew she was amping up the sounds as well. The moans and whines that escaped her lips were like a symphony tailored just for you. Each sound was a delicate note in the melody of her performance, a musical accompaniment that heightened the intensity of the experience. The soft, breathy moans were punctuated by occasional whimpers of frustration and longing, creating a soundtrack that matched the visual spectacle of her body in motion. The sounds were raw and unfiltered, a testament to the pleasure she was experiencing and a seductive invitation for you to share in it.

The combination of her visual allure and orchestra of moans was almost overwhelming. The rhythm of her moans matched the cadence of her movements, creating a seamless connection between sight and sound that left you captivated. Each time she arched her back or pressed her body closer to yours, the accompanying sounds grew more pronounced, a clear indication of how deeply she was immersed in the moment.

But you knew she wouldn’t be able to come from this – no matter how hard she tried, the thing that she so desperately craved would always stay out of reach without your input. The teasing show she was putting on was exquisite, a perfect blend of effort and seduction, but it lacked the final piece of the puzzle that only you could provide.

Her body was a masterpiece in motion, every curve and ripple a testament to her dedication and desire. Yet, as captivating as her performance was, it was clear that the final release she sought remained just beyond her grasp. The pleasure she was experiencing was intense, but it was unfulfilled – a longing that could only be truly satisfied by your touch, your guidance, and your complete engagement.

You waited for as long as you could. Ona’s eyes, filled with a mix of determination and need, continuously sought yours for reassurance and a hint of what you would do next. Her moans and whines, though beautifully melodic, were underscored by a subtle note of frustration, a reminder of the yearning that lingered in every sound she made.

“Si us plau,” she eventually whined, her voice trembling with a blend of desperation and vulnerability. The plea was soft, almost breathless, and it hung in the air between you, a poignant request for the very thing that had been eluding her. The simple words, spoken in a voice that carried the weight of her need, were a powerful testament to the intense longing she felt. The combination of her exquisite performance and her heartfelt plea made it clear that she was at the edge of her limits, her desire reaching a crescendo that demanded a response.

Her eyes locked onto yours with an earnest intensity, seeking not just acknowledgement but also action. The frustration that had tinged her moans was now replaced by a raw, open yearning that could only be addressed by your direct intervention. The sight of her so vulnerable, her body still quivering from the anticipation and effort, was both heart-wrenching and thrilling.

You took in the sight of her, every detail of her arousal and effort etched into your mind. The way her body still moved subtly with each breath, the way her skin glowed with the sheen of exertion and desire, were all compelling reasons to act. Her plea, spoken with such heartfelt longing, was an invitation to complete the intimate connection you had been building.

Without breaking eye contact, you sat up, leaning in so close that your breath mingled with Ona’s, the warmth of it sending a shiver through her. “Please, what?” you teased, your voice a soft whisper that vibrated against her skin.

Her eyes fluttered, a mix of desperation and desire reflecting in their depths. The playful challenge in your voice contrasted sharply with the raw need evident in her gaze. She took a ragged breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort of keeping herself composed under the strain of your teasing.

“Por favor, hazme correrme,” she murmured again, her voice more insistent now, though still trembling with vulnerability. The simple plea carried the weight of her frustration and yearning, a heartfelt request for the final piece of the puzzle that would bring her the satisfaction she so frantically sought. The way she said it, with a mixture of desperation and a soft plea for relief, made it clear just how much she needed you to complete the experience.

“I don’t know if slutty little brats like you deserve to come though, bubba.” Your voice, though soft and teasing, held a firm edge that underscored your control over the situation. The playful challenge in your tone contrasted with the intense longing in Ona’s eyes, creating a dynamic of anticipation and desire that was almost palpable.

Her reaction was immediate; her body tensed, a mixture of frustration and eagerness evident in her posture. The way her breath hitched, the slight tremble of her lips, and the way her eyes widened with a blend of need and playful defiance showed just how much she was affected by your words. She leaned closer, trying to close the gap between you, her movements a silent plea for the release she was craving.

“He sido buena. He sido buena para ti,” Ona stuttered, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and a trace of defiance. The earnestness in her tone, coupled with the intensity of her gaze, highlighted Her plea was not just about the physical satisfaction she sought, but also about the emotional validation of being acknowledged and rewarded for her efforts.

She shifted slightly, her body pressing closer to yours, as if trying to bridge the final gap between your teasing and her ultimate fulfilment. Her movements were slow but deliberate, each gesture an attempt to demonstrate just how much she had been trying to meet your challenge.

You met her halfway, pulling her down into a kiss that was anything but gentle – a filthy, messy kiss that conveyed just how turned on you were by her little performance. The kiss was intense, filled with a raw passion that left no room for subtlety. Your lips moved against hers with a fervent energy, a dance of dominance and submission that mirrored the tension of the moment. The taste of her, the way her breath mingled with yours, and the way she responded with equal fervour, all combined to create a moment that was absolutely electrifying

“Hmmm,” you murmured against her lips, deliberately drawing out the anticipation. Your voice was a mix of mock contemplation and teasing affection. “I suppose you have been a muy buena niña for me, doing exactly as I said, putting on a fantastic show … just for me.” The words were spoken with a playful tone, though the underlying sincerity of your acknowledgement was clear. Ona felt a wash of calm flood over her, your words easing her fears.

“Just for you. Sólo para ti,” she whispered breathlessly, her voice a soft, eager echo of your words. The way she repeated the phrase, her eyes locked onto yours with so much love, made it clear how much she craved moments like this – the push and pull of your relationship made her head dizzy sometimes. The sincerity in her voice and the look in her eyes spoke volumes about her dedication and her desire to please you.

“Only for me? How kind of you, Oni,” you mocked gently, your tone a playful blend of admiration and teasing. The mockery was light-hearted, designed to keep the mood playful. You raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “I suppose I could let you come.” Your words, though teasing, carried a promise that hung heavily in the air. The decision to grant her the release she had been craving was now in your hands

In one swift movement, you had Ona lying on her back, her hair splayed out on the pillows, creating a halo of dark waves around her. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.

The room was filled with the soft rustling of sheets and the muffled sounds of her breaths, creating a backdrop of intimate noise that only heightened the tension.

You positioned yourself above her, your gaze unwavering as you took in the sight of her beneath you. Her eyes were wide and full of yearning, a mixture of vulnerability and unspoken desire. The way she looked up at you, her body slightly trembling with anticipation, added to the sense of charged expectation that filled the space between you.

Your hands moved with deliberate intention, tracing a path from her shoulders down to her hips, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin beneath your touch. Each movement was purposeful, a way to both explore and command, to reinforce the power dynamic that had been building throughout the night. Your fingers lingered just long enough to make her shiver, creating a teasing contrast to the more direct pressure you were about to apply.

“Remember,” you murmured, your voice low and intimate, “you’ve earned this. You’ve been so good, putting on that incredible show just for me.”

You let your hands glide further, exploring the contours of her body with a mix of tenderness and assertiveness, placing kisses as you went. Your touch was both comforting and electrifying, a blend of affection and authority that added to the intensity of the moment. The way she responded, the soft moans that escaped her lips and the way her body arched towards your touch, made it clear just how much she was craving the final resolution.

Finally, you reached where Ona wanted you most. The anticipation in the room was palpable as your fingers traced along the waistband of her thong. With a playful snap, you pulled the band gently against her hip, creating a slight, teasing sting that made her gasp. You couldn’t help but smile ruefully, your satisfaction evident as you watched her reaction.

“I like this,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of appreciation. You pressed a tender kiss to her hipbone, the warmth of your lips sending a shiver through her. The gesture was both intimate and affectionate

Her response was immediate, her eyes fluttering closed as she treasured the touch. “Gracias,” she murmured breathlessly, her voice carrying a note of pride and affection. “I bought it with you in mind.” The knowledge that she had chosen this particular piece of lingerie specifically for you, with the intention of enhancing your experience, made your heart skip a beat.

You looked up at her, your gaze meeting hers with a mixture of admiration and desire. The room seemed to shrink around you, the rest of the world fading away as you focused purely on the woman in front of you. Her body responded to your touch, her hips shifting slightly as if instinctively seeking more contact. The heat radiating from her skin was undeniable, a warm, inviting glow that contrasted sharply with the cool air of the room. The softness of her body beneath your fingers was a luxurious sensation, each caress sending ripples of pleasure through her.

You left a trail of kisses down the inside of her thigh, each touch deliberate and gentle, tracing a path of increasing anticipation. Her breath quickened with each kiss, a soft, rhythmic intake of air that was both a response to your touch and a testament to her mounting desire.

Slowly and deliberately, you peeled the damp fabric of the thong away from her, your movements careful and measured. Holding the delicate garment in one hand, you bunched it out of the way, your attention now fully on her exposed skin. With a tender, teasing touch, you settled yourself comfortably, one leg on either side of her shoulders, positioning yourself to offer her the most intimate kind of attention.

You blew gently on her clit, the unexpected coldness of your breath causing her body to react instinctively. Her muscles tensed, and she let out a sharp gasp, a sudden intake of breath that was both surprised and aroused. The delicate shock of the cold air made her entire body quiver, her hips twitching in response to the sensation.

As the initial shock of the cool air faded, Ona’s gasp morphed into a low, throaty moan. When you finally made contact, it was with the softest of kisses, a tender, deliberate press of your lips right where she had been craving. She arched her back, her hand flying down to grab at your head, her fingers instantly taking root in your hair.

With the kiss as a prelude, you began to lick up her sex, your tongue exploring her with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each lick was thorough and purposeful, your movements designed to maximise her pleasure. The softness of your tongue against her sensitive skin, combined with the lingering taste of her arousal, was an indulgent experience that intensified her moans. You traced each contour of her sex with your tongue, cherishing the way she responded to each stroke.

Her reactions were a continuous stream of pleasure; her breathing became ragged, her sounds a mix of soft whimpers and deep, satisfied moans. The way her body responded to your touch – her hips thrusting slightly, her legs trembling, and her head tilting back – was a testament to the pleasure you were giving her. The combination of the gentle kiss, the exploratory licks, and the way you maintained a steady rhythm created a symphony of sensations that drew her ever closer to the edge.

You knew Ona was close; after a night filled with teasing and edging, anyone would be on the brink of release. But as you slipped your finger inside her, you quickly discovered just how near she was to the edge. You effortlessly found that spot deep within her that elicited such a powerful reaction. The instant you touched it, her reaction was immediate and intense. Her eyes screwed shut, her entire body tensing as if a jolt of electricity had passed through her. Her toes curled tightly, her legs quivering with the force of the pleasure that was surging through her.

The sensation of finding that sensitive area was gratifying. Each subtle movement of your finger, each gentle pressure, elicited a series of responses from her – sharp intakes of breath, soft moans, and the way her hips instinctively pressed against your hand. You could feel her body reacting almost rhythmically to your touch, each spasm a testament to the pleasure you were giving her.

You adjusted the angle of your finger slightly, applying just the right amount of pressure and movement to maximise her pleasure. The rhythm of your touch became a steady, deliberate dance, designed to push her further and closer to the precipice.

Her moans grew more urgent, the sound a mix of need and impending climax. The way her body arched and shifted in response to your touch indicated that she was teetering on the edge, ready to fall into the abyss of pleasure you had meticulously prepared her for.

You could sense the exact moment when her control began to slip, when the dam you had carefully built up was on the verge of breaking. Her breathing became erratic, her body trembling with a combination of pleasure and exertion.

“Voy a... Estoy... mierda” she cried, her voice a mixture of desperation and ecstasy. The pleasure she was experiencing was now all-consuming, her entire focus narrowed to the sensations you were evoking. With each movement, each touch, you were guiding her to a powerful, fulfilling climax.

Ona came with a shout - raw and primal. Her body jerking and twitching as pleasure coursed through her veins. It felt as though she was on fire, her skin radiating an almost feverish heat as the intensity of her orgasm spread through her entire being.

The sheer force of her release caused her hips to buck uncontrollably against your hand, her breathing coming in ragged, uneven gasps. Her moans were punctuated by sharp cries, each sound a vivid indication of the depth of her pleasure. Her fingers tugged harshly at your hair.

As the climax took hold, her body arched beautifully, her back curving in a graceful line as she succumbed to the pleasure. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face contorted in a mask of bliss and concentration. The muscles in her legs and abdomen twitched and spasmed in time with the waves of pleasure that surged through her, making it clear just how intense the experience was for her.

You worked her through it gently, maintaining a steady rhythm as she rode out the peak of her orgasm. Your touch was both deliberate and tender, ensuring that the pleasure remained intense but not overwhelming. Each caress and stroke was designed to prolong her satisfaction, to help her enjoy every last moment of the euphoria that had taken over her senses.

The room seemed to echo with the sounds of her pleasure – the rhythmic gasps, the soft whimpers of aftershocks, and the occasional, breathless cries. As the climax began to ebb, her movements gradually slowed, her body relaxing into a state of deep contentment. Her breathing, still ragged, started to return to a more regular pattern, the intensity of her release giving way to a blissful, tranquil aftermath.

“Merda santa,” she gasped, the words escaping her in a breathless rush. Her body continued to tremble as the last waves of her orgasm rippled through her. Her voice, though still tinged with awe and satisfaction, was now softer, a lingering whisper of the intensity she had just experienced.

Her eyes fluttered open, the heat of her climax still evident in the flushed cheeks and the slight sheen of sweat on her skin. You shifted, kissing your way back up her body until you were face to face again. You smiled down at her, your eyes scanning her flushed face, taking in the way her lips were slightly parted and the glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes

“Well, that was fun,” you teased, the playful note in your voice contrasting with the tenderness of your touch. Your smile was a mix of gratification and affection, a reflection of the pleasure you had both shared. You brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, your fingers lingering gently on her skin.

Her lips curved into a soft, exhausted smile, the kind that spoke of complete contentment. “You could say that,” she murmured, her voice still carrying the remnants of her earlier intensity. There was a warm glow in her eyes, a look of deep happiness that mirrored your own feelings.

You leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “You are so beautiful. That was incredible,” you said softly, your tone sincere as you lay down beside her, pulling her into your chest.

She responded with a contented sigh, her body relaxing further into the pillows. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she whispered, her eyes closing as she let herself fully unwind.

You continued to hold her, your touch gentle and reassuring. The aftermath of her climax had left both of you in a state of serene satisfaction, the bond between you strengthened by the intimacy of the experience. The room was quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of the sheets and the steady rhythm of your breaths.

As she began to settle, her breathing slowing to a steady, peaceful rhythm, you took a moment to simply enjoy the closeness you shared. ““T'estimo molt,” she whispered, her voice a soft murmur of affection as she nestled closer into your embrace.

“Yo también te amo mucho,” you replied, your tone equally tender,

You could feel her heartbeat gradually slowing, syncing with yours in a soothing rhythm that spoke of complete trust and contentment. Her body was relaxed against yours, her warmth a comforting presence as she let go of the lingering tension from the night.

You gently brushed your fingers through her hair, your touch both soothing and affectionate. The intimate atmosphere of the room, now filled with a serene quiet, was a stark contrast to the passionate intensity that had preceded it. The gentle hum of the world outside seemed distant, and in this cocoon of closeness, it felt as though time had slowed down just for the two of you.

Every so often, she would shift slightly, her movements subtle but full of unspoken communication. The soft sighs that escaped her lips and the way her fingers occasionally traced gentle patterns on your skin were a testament to her lingering satisfaction and the depth of your bond.

You let your fingers graze her back, your touch light and tender, reinforcing the sense of intimacy and connection between you. As the moments passed, you took in the peacefulness of her expression, the way her features had softened into a serene smile.

You could the moment she finally fell asleep, her breath evened out. The gentle rise and fall of her chest against yours was a soothing, rhythmic lullaby, a comforting reminder of the bond you shared.

Her body relaxed completely, her muscles softening as the tension from the night melted away. Her head nestled more deeply into the crook of your shoulder, and her fingers, which had been lightly tracing patterns on your skin, came to a still, relaxed rest.

“I am going to marry you one day,” you whispered into her skin, the quiet confession escaping your lips as a gentle promise. Your words were barely audible, a tender declaration meant only for her ears, a gently promise to the universe of you love for the woman sleeping in your arms.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3

[sockatoothewafflebird]

i keep scrolling through the arcane tag and at least 40% of it is about caitlyn kiramman's warmongering dictator arc. apologies to my followers for being so obsessed with her but i have to add more fuel to the fire that is caitlyn character analyses. please hear me because only one of my caitlyn posts gets attention i want it to be this one.

i personally see caitlyn's character in season 2 as:

a painfully realistic portrayal of how quickly the privileged can go off their rockers at the lower class when they do literally anything wrong. "It's so easy to hate them."

a woman in mourning with no outlet for her grief and anger, scraping at the walls for any semblance of revenge she can get her hands on.

a puppet of the leaders that will use her for their own gain, which will ultimately only make the corruption and prejudice in the system worse and worse. (ambessa.... when i catch you ambessa...)

all of these things can coexist. and they do. arcane is so fucking good at making complex, nuanced, morally-grey characters, and caitlyn is no different.

(putting the rest under the cut bc this got LONG... sorry💀)

something about when you spend your life as a part of the upper class, equality feels like oppression. something about the upper class lashes out when the lower class does nothing but defend themselves, because both feel threatened by the other, but only the lower class is justified in that. something about CAITLYN IS A GASLIGHT-GATEKEEP-GIRLBOSS AND I DO NOT CONDONE HER ACTIONS!!! i stand with my cancelled queen in the sense that i just want to know if she pulls out a ukulele or reciepts!

the worst part about being a caitlyn fan is that she's gonna get worse before she gets better. that's a plain and simple fact. she is going to hurt people, she is going to kill people, she is going to fuck things up; whether it be directly or indirectly, by her own hand or through the puppeteering of ambessa. probably both.

she is going to do horrible things, whether we like it or not. she already has, look at the ventilation systems and how she exploited the grey. she'll only truly be able to realize she's wrong if she goes down to zaun and sees the damage she's done for herself, thinks long and hard about what she's fighting for. she's lost her way and she's gonna have to crawl through the trenches to find it again.

she's using and abusing her power because of things she shouldn't be using as excuses. jinx killed her mother; the attacks at the memorial service; except those don't justify her actions. explains them, maybe. but she's turning into the exact kind of person you'd expect someone of her status to become. someone with power to her name, using it against those below her because she thinks it's justified, with no one bold enough to stop her.

she's going down a dark path and i am HERE to see how she fixes her mistakes in the end... if she even does. i'm excited to see what they do with her. will vi forgive her? will anyone?

that's for the writers to decide. i have faith that they'll execute it well no matter which way it goes. flawed, yes, as all things are, but they will get this right. if they don't i'm gonna be on a watchlist by the end of the month.

oh, caitlyn kiramman, gaslighting-gatekeeping-girlbossing in act 2. what a piece of work. and i'm just a down-bad lesbian that likes psychoanalyzing fictional lesbians. like... have you seen that woman???? she's too good to not put under a microscope. it's like the writers were baiting me specifically.

if anyone has any theories btw, caitlyn related or not, lemme hear them because i will listen. i will read every essay about this show i come across if it costs me my life 🫡

[spiegelgestalt]

Vi stands for Violence

One of the more ironic things in Arcane is that Vi is running around everywhere judging because they are violent and mean and idk not good enough and she’s arguably one of the most violent characters and without a doubt one of the most destabilizing forces in the entire show. (Sorry Vi fans – I say this with love but homegirl is really kind of terrible).  And the reason for that is that Vi kinda wants to be a hero in the traditional sense. She wants to do everything on her own. She wants to defeat the bad guy. She wants to save the damsel in distress. And she wants everything to be black and white.  In a lot of shows she would have thrived. But she is sadly in a show which looks you straight in the eye and says: Wow you managed to beat Sevika up. Awesome! And now? How did this help anyone? Here the damsel in distress you were trying to save is beating you over the head with a stick. Such a nice Saloon western stand off and nothing changed. No one cheered. The day wasn’t saved.

Deeper analysis under the cut

Vi’s original sin is being unwilling to see the perspective of others. She’s the oldest. She knows best. You can see that in arc 1 in season 1. Milo was correct: powder wasn’t ready. Powder messed up. Vi didn’t want to hear it because she loves Powder and that’s why Powder isn’t allowed to be criticized until Vi explodes on her in the end of the third episode. And theres something interesting about the fact that Vi apparently can’t think of Powder as a flawed person – either all she does is understandable and excusable or she’s a terrible Jinx who needs to be punished/stopped/killed. And you see the signs early on. In the “enemy music video” you see Vi screaming at Powder and shoving her, you see it at the end of episode 3, and you now see it in action in arc 1 of season 2 – Jinx doesn’t have the attitude that Vi thinks Powder should have (i.e. siding with the enforcers/Piltover against Silco - why would she do that?; accepting Vi and being grateful that she’s back) Vi trys to pick up the status quo before Vanders death. Jinx wont let her. Jinx wants to have a conversation. Both her elaborate traps remind you of the past and they remind you of the fact that Vanders death happened. Vi sees them as slights against herself and not as conversation starters. Because that’s not something she wants to think about (and notice that her mind goes immediately to her abusive behavior; because those challenge her self concept as the hero of the story). She doesn't want to admit that Powder = Jinx = Powder. Because that would mean to accept shades of grey. It would mean letting go of her anger (or at least accepting her anger) and accept that stuff changed things are complicated and people are flawed.

And she does the same thing everywhere else:  Silco caused Vanders death – ergo Silco is the cause of all evil: he’s the cause for change, for drugs, for powder being weird, for Zaun not being what it once was, for her not having a place to come home to etc. etc. I

It's even more evident with Sevika. Many have noted that Sevika hasn't actually betrayed Vander but has acted in Zauns best interest. But Vi doesn't want to even think about it that way. Sevika's to blame for Vanders death. As is Silco. (as is Powder) I dare anyone to look me in the eye and tell me that Vi accomplished anything by fighting Sevika. That was pure lust for vengeance. Especially the second time. But she messes up the most with Jinx. I find it fascinating that after Sevika is defeated and Silco is gone all of Vis anger concentrates on Jinx who refuses to become her precious treasure who needs to be protected- ergo Powder must be dead. And I’d argue that Vi is in search of a Damsel in distress and she isn’t finding anyone. Ekko is the leader Vi wants to be, Caitlyn is becoming more dangerous to Zaun by the day (and refuses Vis council) and Jinx is Jinx. Add some real resentment over Vanders death that Vi hasn’t worked through yet and it kinda makes Vis action make sense. Especially when there’s a cute blonde enforcer who admires what Vi’s doing and thinks it’s heroic and great she beat up all the bad guys in Zaun.

And one more thing. Vis attachment to Caitlyn is very similar to Powders attachment to Silco (-the sexual attraction of course). Bear with me here: who’s the first person who showed Powder kindness after the disaster: Silco. Who’s the first person who showed Vi kindness: Caitlyn. Both are charismatic leaders and both are very close to the people who destroyed their families. Vi and Jinx are more similar than you might think.

[rinarin-karimel]

Interestingly, Kahaku is always associated in Fushi with flying leaves. Maybe it means something .... At least it's beautiful

[the-witch-of-woods-beyond]

my favourite headcanon for glass sorenson is that she came down with farm station and watched them murder luke right in front of her eyes (or kidnap him or something cause i love tragic lovers but she deserves to be happy) and so she’s one of the first people to join pike’s militia and turn vengeful, and her best friend wells (he lives too cause this is my canon now) is trying to get through to her but she won’t hear it cause all she wants is justice and to get her oldest friend clarke griffin out of polis and away from harm (they’re friends too fight me on this i dare you)

(also sorry about the tags i didn’t know i had that rant in me 😭😭)

[kamaluhkhan]

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 

“what? n-no!” 

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 

it just didn't seem fair. 

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 

every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.” 

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 

“she deserved more.” 

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do. 

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.” 

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 

 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse. 

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.” 

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?” 

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?” 

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 

everything was falling into place. 

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 

 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet. 

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 

would you hate him, if you knew? 

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

[fastandcarlos]

Living With The LeClercs » Charles LeClerc

Summary: take a peek into the life of the leclerc family and see what they get up to

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly and 1,402,505 others

charles_leclerc: off season complete ✅ batteries are recharged after yet another amazing holiday with the fam

39,503 comments

scuderiaferrari: looking forward to having you back with us next week charles 🏎️

landonorris: i refuse to accept that y/d/n is yours, she's too beautiful to have your genes

ynusername: @/landonorris she just takes after her mother instead 😇

username1: nooooo, f1 season means we get less dad pics from you charles

username2: i don't ever want the dad charles era to end 😭

ynusername: thank you for the best three months, i couldn't wish for a better dad to our little humans 💕

schecoperez: you're putting me to shame with all these adorable snaps, i better start uploading too

lance_stroll: calling dibs on being first to offer babysitting during the season btw

danielricciado: @/lance_stroll you take one i'll take the other, mini charles' are a lot to handle

lance_stroll: @/danielricciardo you've got yourself a deal

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by scuderiaferrari, landonorris and 832,420 others

charles_leclerc: race day is always better with these two babies causing chaos 🥰

29,908 comments

carlossainz55: as cute as your children are, can you hurry up and stop uploading to instagram...some of us have got meetings

username3: y/s/n is hands down the coolest kid at the paddock this weekend

username4: why do i get the impresson project leclerc jr is well underway with y/d/n 🤔

oscarpiastri: STOP SHOWING OFF HOW BEAUTIFUL YOUR FAMILY ARE 😡

maxverstappen1: maybe y/s/n will have a better chance of beating me to the top of the podium than you

charles_leclerc: @/maxverstappen1 one day...he's got his eyes on you! apparently you're his favourite driver

maxverstappen1: @/charles_leclerc tell him that he's got excellent taste

ynusername: not you promoting letting toddlers get behind the wheel of high speed cars 🙄

danielricciardo: if you're looking for a coach, you know who to ask

charles_leclerc: @/danielricciado you think i'm not capable of coaching my son

danielricciardo: @/charles_leclerc sure...but if you want him to learn from a proper driver, just gimme a call 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63 and 294,405 others

ynusername: following this man around all day, trying to keep the kids from hugging daddy is a hard day’s work (see second pic for proof 😂)

12,492 comments

landonorris: if charles isn't interested, tell the kids that uncle lando will always be ready for a cuddle

iamrebeccad: i've never done so many steps before, who knew chasing after 3 year olds was such hard work 💫

ynusername: @/iamrebeccad i did try to warn you!! you should've listened

pierregasly: he's just tryna play it cool y/n, he isn't as cool as he used to be

username5: imagine being lucky enough to walk around the paddock and just see y/s/n and y/d/n everywhere

kevinmagnussen: tell them to have a sniff of charles after being in a race car for 2 hours y/n...that will soon be enough to put them off 💩

lilymhe: i want them to chase me and give me all the cuddles in the world

username6: you just know in any free moment charles is secretly looking around wanting his kids back beside him

username7: everyone say thank you to y/n for yet another round of hot dad charles pics 🙏🏻

oscarpiastri: why can't you hug me as lovingly as you hug your son? you're supposed to me my dad too

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiastri "adopted"

oscarpiastri: @/charles_leclerc IT ALL STILL COUNTS

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liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri and 829,407 others

charles_leclerc: like father like son…the leclerc smile is deadly

78,445 comments

username8: officially the cutest photographs to ever be uploaded to the internet 🥺

username9: excuse me charles leclerc you cannot just spring photos like this on us without warning

oscarpiastri: i smile like this too...family?? 🥰

maxverstappen1: if i had to pick y/s/n definitely looks cuter

username10: i was not emotionally ready for this adorableness 💔

carlossainz55: deadly?? you look like the squishiest marshmallow

username11: @/carlossainz55 i think you've been spending too much time on the internet 😬

ynusername: my two favourite boys, how did I ever get so lucky?

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername there's no way you're the lucky one, that title belongs to me mi amor

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, carlossainz55 and 527,492 others

charles_leclerc: I’ve been posting a lot about my human kids recently, so here’s a shoutout to my other child so he doesn’t feel left out

43,482 comments

oscarpiastri: damn i almost thought that this post was gonna be about me

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiastri i swear one more comment and i will block you, son or not

landonorris: how dare you mistreat leo like this

username12: @/landonorris #justice4leo

username13: charles leclerc...father of 3

ynusername: leo could never be forgotton, he's our favourite four legged child

alex_albon: @/ynusername also your only four legged child 🤔

estebanocon: cute kids, cute dog...how do you do it leclerc??

yukitsunoda0511: asking for a friend...do your kids also poo in the middle of the paddock or just your dog

username14: @/yukitsunoda0511 YUKI not you stitching charles up like this! 😂😂

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liked by estebanocon, lance_stroll and 728,493 others

charles_leclerc: my favourite things to do, being a dad with a bit of gaming too 🥺💕

53,684 comments

ynusername: where does being a husband rank in all of them??

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername you’re still my number one 😍

username15: if charles won't appreciate you come and marry me instead

maxverstappen1: so bad at fifa you've resorted to table football i see 🫢

carlossainz55: don't worry charlie, i'll beat you at that kinda football too

username16: not you forgetting the woman that gave you those two adorable humans charles 🤦🏻‍♀️

username17: public apology incoming

danielricciardo: and you just happened to be playing table football with your top off did you? 🤔

charles_leclerc: @/danielricciardo it was all just coincidence...promise

georgerussell63: charles leclerc giving the fan girls what they want since 2018

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liked by lewishamilton, landonorris and 842,348 others

charles_leclerc: appreciation for the wife so she doesn’t get jealous 😂 I love you honey, thank you for our perfect family ✨🔥

53,372 comments

carlossainz55: if you heard him gush about you as much as i do y/n you'd know there is never anything to be jealous of

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 what sorta thing does he say?? 🤔

charles_leclerc: @/carlossainz55 do not throw me under the bus like this!!

landonorris: one of you looks perfect, the other looks like he needs a haircut and to sort his beard out

username18: i hope you know how lucky you are charles

username19: how does y/n manage to look that good running around after y/s/n, y/d/n and charles all day???

logansargeant: can you stop making all us single people feel even more single pls 😭

schecoperez: the second best family in formula one

danielricciardo: @/schecoperez SAVAGE! 💪🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, scuderiaferrari and 1,392,503 others

charles_leclerc: just a post to remind you all I can do both…no dad bod around here 🫢

101,372 comments

username20: DADDY!? 💦

landonorris: how many takes did it take you to get that shot in the gym?

carlossainz55: @/landonorris i was there...for several hours

username21: soft dad charles will always be my fave

ynusername: is there anything that you can't do? you take my breath away charles leclerc 💫💕

oscarpiastri: one day i hope to be as strong as you are...dad

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiastri BLOCKED

alex_albon: i don't know who looks more tired, you or y/d/n

charles_leclerc: @/alex_albon me, definitely me, but i wouldn't change it for the world

 ˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[changetyre]

Broken ⒾⓈⓌ

SUMMARY: You and Max are having trouble trying to grow your family and your daughters are affected by it. Part of the Verstappen Family Verse

WARNINGS: Angst, miscommunication, pregnancy issues, a smidge of smut at the end.

A/N: This was requested over on Wattpad. Despite the angst, this is one of my favorite parts of this series.

Max stretched out, his back feeling painful after carrying all the presents he'd bought up from the parking lot before stashing them in a high cupboard in the house where he was sure nobody would look. It was late and he'd spent most of the day out looking for gifts, although truly it was also an excuse to get some space since the environment at home wasn't the best right now. 

The house was quiet when he arrived, a good indicator the girls were already asleep in their room and you as well probably. Although only a few months ago there wouldn't be a day you wouldn't wait for Max before going to bed, physically unable to go to sleep without hearing his voice but lately things had changed and you and Max often went to bed without exchanging any words at all. 

Once he finally made his way to your bedroom he wasn't surprised to find you were in fact asleep, clothes scattered around the room which you also hadn't bothered to clean up. Max sighed, he was tired having not really had a day of relaxation since the season ended despite imagining he'd spend his winter holidays differently, that things would somehow get better. 

He proceeded to pick up the room a little bit making it a little more presentable before taking a quick shower and joining you in bed. While his skin screamed to feel yours Max didn't feel comfortable enough to do so anymore, not knowing how you'd react to him placing an arm around you like he had done every night since you'd gotten together..until a few months ago. 

The next morning Max woke up to find you'd woken up but stayed laying there simply staring up at the ceiling, he knew your mind was spiraling but truly didn't want to ask anymore knowing you'd shut him out.  

"Hey," Max asked. His voice almost felt too loud for the silence. 

"Hi." Your voice was barely above a whisper, the sound almost strange to him not used to hearing it often anymore. 

"How d'you sleep?" Max asked. 

"I'm gonna go make breakfast for the girls." you ignored his question avoiding eye contact as you left the room leaving no more space for conversation. 

Once Max got himself ready for the day he went out to join you for breakfast finding you'd already eaten and were in the process of washing the dishes. He'd be lying if he said this didn't hurt him but held back from saying anything not wanting to start an argument. 

The rest of the day was mostly spent in silence apart from the laughter and ruckus from your children there were no words exchanged between you and Max. At some point, Max left the house once more wanting space. 

"Mama," Ivy called you as you played with both your daughters in the balcony. 

"Yeah, baby." Your daughters naturally made you smile, probably the only time you showed any sort of emotion lately. 

"Do you and Papa not love each other anymore?" She asked. 

Your heart skipped a beat, the immediate urge to cry reaching your throat and you only hoped your eyes gave no indication to the sudden burst of emotion. You noticed the way Lea's smile also dropped at the question, her attention ready to hear your answer. 

"Uhm, of course we do baby why would you think that?" You asked hoping your shaky voice didn't worry your daughters. 

"Papa doesn't blink at you anymore...like dis mama." Ivy showed you by blinking her eyes hard three times just like her father used to do to you almost daily before. 

The reminder of this almost broke you, you began picking up the girl's toys making sure they weren't able to see your face properly as you began crying. "You don't have to worry girls, everythings okay with Papa and me." You lied to your daughters, and it was evident by the weakness of your voice but you weren't sure what else to say. 

"Mama, are you okay?" Lea asked this time, her voice filled with concern, she was growing up, she of course noticed things, possibly understood things a little more than her sister and you knew you were hurting her, hurting them both and thought of this killed you inside. 

"I'm fine Lea, why don't you take your sister to your room and watch a movie, I'm gonna shower." You tried your best to force a smile wiping your eyes with the back of your hand before facing your older daughter. 

Lea simply nodded not wanting to cause you more distress before taking Ivy's hand and guiding her away. Once they were gone you let yourself cry it out. 

Trying and failing to conceive another child had been more emotionally draining than you had ever imagined it would be. You and Max had tried, tried, and tired to the point making love to him wasn't exciting anymore, it was frustrating, full of desperation, and so eventually, you stopped. You stopped trying, stopped connecting, stopped loving.  

Silence seemed like the easiest solution, not willing to face the reality of it all. Drowning in your own thoughts was exhausting but it seemed like the better option since potentially hearing the way you let down your partner, your family was worse. 

But it was obvious now, it was obvious how much this was already hurting your family so you had to toughen up now, muster enough strength to talk to Max, talk to your husband, and face whatever was next for you, whether good or bad it had to better than letting your daughters see the way things were falling apart between you. 

___________

Max once again came home to silence, he could hear the TV on in the girl's room and he didn't want to go to his room so instead decided to try to wrap up the presents in secret while he had the time. 

Max was semi-successful, his daughters had walked out of their room and been insistent on wanting to know what Max was doing despite him telling them several times to go back to their rooms and his patience was wearing thin. 

He was only able to get them to stay in their rooms after promising them a play date with their uncle Lando on the weekend if they behaved. Finally knowing they would stay in their rooms Max took the time to try to hide the gifts again so he could put them under the tree by the end of the month. 

He'd headed to the bathroom and when he came back anger and frustration flooded him at seeing Lea helping Ivy up to the counter to try to open the cupboard where he'd stashed the gifts. 

"LEA!" Max yelled letting his emotions control him for the first time with his daughters. 

Lea and Ivy both gasped and Max ran to catch Ivy who almost slipped off the counter trying to get down quickly. 

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING! WERE YOU EVEN THINKING!? YOUR SISTER COULD'VE GOTTEN HURT!" Max yelled at his older daughter. 

You heard the commotion from the room running out to check on the situation. "I WANT YOU BOTH IN YOUR ROOMS, NO TV, NO GAMES, GO STRAIGHT TO BED!" Max continued yelling. 

Both Ivy and Lea were in tears at seeing their dad so angry for the first time in their lives, running straight to their rooms. 

"Max calm down." Your heart broke, you knew Max was never like this with your daughters and it scared you to see this side of him come out, feeling partly guilty for it. 

"Oh wow...so now you decide to talk to me." Max scoffed pushing past you and into your room. 

Your heart broke at the action, but he was right. You knew he needed time to cool off so you headed to your daughter's room to check on them. 

Opening the door you had to try to hold back your own tears at the sight. Lea held Ivy in her arms as they both sobbed. You couldn't say anything to afraid to burst into tears so instead sat by your daughter's bed and hugged them both. 

"I-I-I'm so-so-sorry-ma-ma." Lea hiccuped not being able to catch her own breath at how much she cried. 

This time you felt a few tears run down your cheeks. "Hey baby it's okay." You took her face in your hands trying to soothe her. "Lea honey it's okay." You blew gently on your daughter's face trying to calm her down. 

"Pa-pa's- ang-angr-angry." she continued hiccuping. 

"I know darling he shouldn't have yelled like that baby. He loves you so much, we both do." You reminded her kissing her forehead. 

Eventually, Ivy had fallen asleep crying on her sister's lap so you picked her up and moved her to her bed tucking her in. You then went back to your older daughter who was having a little bit of a harder time settling down. 

"Lea listen sometimes people get angry at other things and they feel so angry for a long time that when something else happens they just blow up and scream." You tried your best to explain to your daughter. 

"Like papa?" She asked. 

"Yeah like Papa Baby, Papa's feeling a lot of things because of something else and unfortunately he just took it out on you." You revealed. 

Little did you know Max was listening from outside, after cooling off a little he felt bad and meant to go apologize to his daughters but stopped once he heard you inside with them. 

"But why?" Lea asked. "Why is papa angry mama?" Lea was almost 6, you knew she was starting to get a better grasp of things and you also knew being honest with her would be the best thing for her right now so after thinking about it for a few seconds you decided to just be honest with her. 

"Do you remember on Ivy's 2nd birthday when she wished for a brother?" You asked your daughter. 

"Yeah," Lea replied moving her head to look up at you. 

"Well your Papa and I after that, after talking a lot tried to make another baby..."Your voice broke. 

Max's heart broke at hearing you struggle to speak. 

"Well, we tried for a long time and Mama just couldn't get another baby in her tummy which made both Mama and Papa really really sad." You revealed. 

"Why won't the baby go in your tummy mama?" Lea asked innocently, reaching for her little hand to wipe some tears off your cheek. 

"I don't know baby, maybe mommy's broken." You were full-on crying but you could see your daughter's understanding eyes at the situation. 

"Is that why Papa doesn't say I love you with his eyes anymore?" Lea asked again, oblivious to the impact her question had on her parents. Max fell to his knees outside the room distraught at the guilt he could hear in your voice, and about the fact that his daughters and possibly you thought he didn't love you anymore. 

"I don't know honey...maybe. It's not easy when you want something really really bad and you just can't get it so it can make you feel a lot of things, mommy feels like it's her fault that the baby doesn't want to go in her tummy." You tried to finish explaining. 

"I'm sorry Mama." Lea apologized once more. "But even if you are broken mama I'll still love you the same, I'll even say it with my eyes if you want." Lea smiled imitating her dad by blinking her eyes I love you just like her dad used to do. 

This time your tears were of gratitude at feeling the love your daughter had for you, the simplicity with which her mind understood the situation and tried to make you feel better. "Thank you, baby." You hugged your daughter placing kisses on her cheek. 

Lea settled enough, feeling a little better at understanding why things had been a little weird at home lately. You watched her fall asleep. You took a deep breath ready to have a difficult conversation with your husband praying it might go a little similar to the conversation you had with your daughter. 

You walked out of their room and were surprised to find Max sitting outside, his back to the wall with his face in his hands. You could tell he'd been crying from the wet spots on his shirt and trousers. 

"Maxy." You fell to your knees beside him. 

Max pulled his hands away as you both wrapped your arms around each other at the same time. You both started crying in each other's arms, Max holding you tightly against him. 

"You're not broken, I never thought so either I just wanted you to talk to me." He whispered. "I love you so much and I'm sorry I ever let you doubt it, and I'm sorry for screaming at Ivy and Lea, I'm just- I'm so sorry for everything" Max cried tucking his face in the crook of your neck.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I felt so useless and frustrated I couldn't get pregnant. I know how long you've been trying to hold it together for us, for all of us and I shouldn't have ever let you carry all of it on your own. I'm sorry too for everything."  You also apologized. "I love you, Max, I don't think I'll ever be able to stop loving you I just wanted to give us another baby." 

"I know." Max sighed pulling back and wiping tears from under your eyes with his thumbs. "Look I would love to have another baby with you, I'd have a 100 if it was with you but I'm so enamored by the family you've given me already, our girls...they're the best thing that have ever happened to me and if trying to have another baby is gonna cost us...us...than I don't want it." Max was honest. 

You nodded agreeing with his words. 

"It doesn't mean we stop trying, we can if that's what you want but I just want you back first, I need us to be okay before trying again okay?" He asked you. 

"Yeah." You agreed once more. 

Max rested his forehead against yours. You heard him take a deep breath. "God I missed you." he sighed before leaning down to place his lips against yours. 

You kissed him back harshly almost desperate to taste him again mentally questioning yourself how you were able to survive without this for as long as you did. "I love you," you whispered as you momentarily pulled away to catch your breath. 

But Max kept kissing you not wanting for this to stop, as if his body was trying to catch up on all the time he spent without your touch. "I love you." He whispered back scooping you into his lap, your legs wrapping around him as he stood up with you in his arms before taking you to your bedroom. 

Laying you down on your shared bed it once again felt right, being shared with him. Max was quick to get you naked, teasing you as he prepared you for him.

"I adore you." He whispered as he slipped into you. You'd be okay.

[mimasroom2]

My tennis star! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

Secretly dating jock!ellie

C/w: smut but for like 2 seconds. Mention of weed lol. Uhh that’s it this is pretty laid back. This is my first time using those fake texting things I think I like it? Idk

W/c: ≈ 800

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

- She plays tennis bc I said so 🎾

- She’d win a match and she’d post on her instagram story something REAL cheesy like “only reason why we won is because someone special was in the crowd💖” and everyone thinks she’s talking ab a guy but it’s really you >•<

- She’d pull you aside into an empty hallway and lean over you with her arm up (yknow. The classic masc move.) and whisper “You comin’ to the game tonight, baby?”

- It’s so fucking cheesy but you swear she makes your knees weak every time she talks with her sexy ass voice.

- “Too bad I can’t have a massive ass sign that says your name on it all big or something.” You grin widely and she laughs, leaning in to give you a soft kiss.

- You guys go on dates to the mall so she can buy new workout clothes & equipment. Every time you guys see someone you know in a store you split up and pretend to be looking at different things on other ends of the store. Eventually when they leave you two come back together and giggle.

- “Heya stranger.” She grins, showing you some knee high socks she found while she was pretending to look around.

- Only your two best friends know ab you and Ellie, so you’re always having to make up excuses as to why you’re going to the tennis games.

- “They needed help with grilling hot dogs and hamburgers for the game, and you know I always need more service hours!”

- “Man I’m sorry I can’t go to the movies tonight. I already told the tennis coach I’d do face painting for the little kids that come😕”

- You’re studying at your desk when the first message from Ellie absolutely jumpscares you. The girl really needs to learn about context 🙄

- Absolutely all the girls in the crowd and on the opposing team would swoon over her. She lovesssss the attention and always waves at the crowd and blows kisses to them. Sometimes she winks at the girls on the other team to purposefully distract them as they’re serving. You don’t feel jealous though because you know as soon as the game’s over you’re going back to her place to celebrate ;)

- You feel so fucking lucky you’re dating a jock as her toned muscular arm is pumping in and out of you.

- “Fuck,, guess all that racket swinging comes in handy when I’m fucking you, hm?” She smirks, and she was actually right. She could practically finger you forever and never get tired.

- She’s a perfectionist with her playing and in bed. She’d have to make you cum at least twice before she’s satisfied.

- The next morning Ellie has to leave early for practice so she lets you stay in her room to sleep in. She texts you a WHOLE BUNCH, effectively spamming your phone and waking you up:

- She comes up to you one day out of the blue and says “Hey y/n, I’m like so serious can you hide all my stoner shit until this season is over…?” You knew she smoked but she told you she only does it when she’s off in tennis, so you’re surprised when she hands you a shoebox full of all her stuff.

- “Yeah ‘m fine. Coach has been gettin’ on to me. Jus’ more stressed out is all.” Is all she has to say when you ask about it. She runs her hands through her hair, thinking you’re frustrated with her. You’re just glad she trusts you enough to make her keep her promises to herself.

- She’d ask you what your favorite color is and get a special racket in that color for whenever you see her play. She’d say it’s her lucky racket :,)

- You were never super into sports but you loveeeee spending time with Ellie, so she decides to give you some one on one lessons.

- “Yeah, thas’ it, baby.” She’d mutter in your ear from behind you. She’s holding the racket with you and helping you swing your arms the right way.

- You guys didn’t expect to see anyone on the tennis court this early, so when other people come and Ellie recognizes them, she quickly guides you guys behind a tree.

- Your stomach is filled with butterflies as she tucks your loose hair behind your ear and kisses you !!

- You feel like a little kid playing in the woods again because now you and Ellie are sneaking around the park/tennis court trying not to be seen by the other people

- She gets really cocky sometimes and posts soft launches of you on her insta stories

- It would be a picture of you in her lap WAHH! Her tattooed hand is on your thigh with the caption “keeping me occupied”

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

[bweeeb]

"GIRLFRIEND"

Carmen Berzatto x Reader (you)

( @softmullet : i want me some tender love from carmy 😩 ) Notes: I believe that if things had gone well in the last episode of the second season, it could easily have gone something like this, I hope this story is enough for you, and i hope u like it. Thank's for the request

Summary: When Carmen's "girlfriend" comes up at the opening of The Bear, at the end of the night they both realize something

It was family and friends night at the restaurant, the first service at The Bear, and Carmen couldn't be more anxious about it. He wanted everything to go well, to serve good service, good food, a good place, he wanted it to be perfect. You went with your friends, Melissa and Isis, to the opening of The Bear. Although Carmen was aware that you might be there, since he was the one who invited you, he hadn't thought you would actually go.

— Cousin, your girlfriend is at table 29.

Richie, who was in charge of the dining area, approached Carmen working in his station. — She's your girlfriend already, right cousin?

— She's here? Carmen asked, not stopping his food preparation.

— Damn, man, figure it out and make her your girlfriend quick. That's what Richie said before leaving the kitchen, leaving Carmen thoughtful

You and Carmen started going out frequently four months ago. Your confidence in what you did, your smile, and the unusual comfort you transmitted to Carmen made anxiety spread through his body. But for the first time, it wasn't the bad kind of anxiety—it felt good to be near you.

Sitting at table twenty-one, you smiled towards Richie, who approached the table with a bottle of wine and a smile on his lips.

— Y/n. Richie said your name as he stopped beside you before continuing; — Excuse me, girls, would you like some wine? I know it's what you like.

— Hi, Richie. You greeted him and your friends smiled.

— Yeah, I’d love that. Isis smiled at Richie following Melissa’s confirmation beside her.

— How sweet, thank you.

— Thanks. — you thanked politely as you saw him filling your glass. — Things are really good around here, dude. Carm didn't tell me it was all so fancy.

— What do you mean, cousin didn't show off with those fancy cutlery?

Richie teased Carmen, causing laughter from your lips and two mischievous smiles directed at you by your friends.

— Yeah, I don't know, I guess he didn't want to involve me in this. You said shrugging your shoulders as you took a sip of your wine.

— I think he wants to involve you in everything, Y/n Bear. He’s just not good at it... — the older man nodded and started stepping back — Now I’ll let you enjoy the night, if you need anything, I’ll be at your disposal. He said before disappearing into the dining area.

— Oh no, stay. Isis murmured watching Richie leave while biting her thumb distractedly.

— He's too old for you. You said laughing out loud and snapping Isis out of her daydreams.

— Regardless, sister. Your boyfriend’s friend is hot.

— Carmen is not my boyfriend. You huffed looking at the glass in your hand.

— Oh really, you’re still at this? You sleep at each other's houses, fuck like rabbits, and I feel like the loneliest person in the world when I see you two. What are you? Friends? No way. Melissa said rolling her eyes before laughing and drinking her wine.

— We’ve never talked about it. He didn't grow up with a good image of relationships, I don't want to force anything, sometimes he just wants a fling.

— Right, a fling of a hundred and twenty-one days. Wake up, baby, you heard the hottie, he wants to involve you in everything. Isis said sighing.

— But what if he doesn't want to... he probably didn't even want me here. You said laughing nasally, remembering Carmen’s vague mention a week ago, saying you could come if you wanted to.

— Believe me, Y/n, you have enough personality for him to want you! — Melissa smiled leaning back in the chair — I bet twenty bucks he’ll come here just to bring your dish because he’s totally in love with you.

— As if he had time, this is a restaurant and it’s full, Mel...— You said laughing again.

— I think he’ll come, I mean, would he really not? Isis shrugged drinking her wine again.

— Alright, let’s see...

Not long after, the conversation that you three had started was interrupted by the huge smile on Melissa’s face. The dishes were placed in front of you and Carmen's eyes fell on you like a magnet.

— Hi.

— Hi, everything is really good, Carm. Congrats.

— Thanks. Uhm, yeah...— Carmen said and at that moment he was grateful not to have anything special to present on your plate because you were too beautiful for him to focus on anything other than you at that table. — You look beautiful and I hope you all have a good time. Enjoy! He said stepping away from the table with a glance before disappearing back into the kitchen.

— He’s obviously busy and still came to say hi to you. Melissa smiled and groaned while throwing her head back.

— You look beautiful, that’s the compliment I’ve heard the most on all my dates and this was the first truly sincere one I’ve heard, my god. Isis said smiling while looking at you, smiling at your plate.

— hmm, yeah, he’s sweet.

— I want my money. Melissa said before starting to eat like you and Isis.

°°°

The end of the night had come, the place was less noisy, the last customers were leaving, the kitchen was starting to be cleaned and that meant Carmen was less hectic if everything had gone well.

You had left Isis and Melissa behind in the dining area with Niel and Richie while you looked for Carmen.

Passing by Sydney who was leaning on the counter, you stopped to look at her for a while.

— Hey, Syd. Are you alright? You asked and received a nod from the girl who seemed tired.

— Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just...you know...all of this was crazy and it was my first night working like this for real, so... it’s a lot. She vented and you sighed agreeing.

— I could say I understand but in reality, I don’t understand the pressure you guys have in the kitchen, but I can guarantee you did a great job, everything I ate, the service, everything was great. You said and Sydney smiled at you, understanding why Carmen liked you, it was simple.

— Thanks, Y/n. I think you should tell him that, he’s a bit worried.

— Where is he? You asked, twisting your lips.

— Office. Sydney gestured with her hands, showing you the way and with a grateful smile, you went after Carmen who was found by you sitting in the office, now Natalie’s, with his hands on his head.

— Hey, Chef. You said, standing at the office door waiting for him to let you in.

— Hi. Carmen responded, adjusting his posture and freeing his lap for you to sit on his thighs. There was the confirmation you needed.

— What’s wrong? You asked, sitting on him and wrapping your hands around his neck.

— I think I could have done better. He murmured

— You can always do better, Carmy, but what you guys did here today was great. The girls were delighted even with the damn glasses on the table. You murmured and saw Carmen close his eyes, closing his arms around your waist. — You know I wouldn’t lie to you if I had any complaints about this place, and I can assure you that things, at least out there, were great. How were they here?

Your voice was calming for Carmen who forced himself to open his eyes and look at the beautiful thing in his arms. — We should be more organized.

— Hm, things like that always happen, you guys will get the hang of it, this was the first service, my love.

And there was the nickname that made Carmen feel like a prematurely lovestruck teenager.

— I’m really happy you liked it, beautiful. Carmen murmured, bringing a hand to your left cheek.

— You. Should. Relax. — With each pause, you planted a peck on Berzatto’s lips. Once you felt him still tense.

— Why are you so perfect, fuck. Carmen whispered, sucking on your neck and pulling you in for a longer, more heated kiss. — Did you like the wine you drank? He asked, pulling your body closer to his.

— It was you who chose it. Now it makes sense. You laughed softly, playing with the curls of the man below you. — I loved it, thanks.

— I'm happy that you came, I thought you wouldn’t. Carmen admitted, which made you make a confused face.

— I almost thought you didn’t want me to come. You murmured, embarrassed, and Carmen frowned, pulling your face to look at him.

— I love when you’re near me, please, stay close. He asked with conviction in his words.

— Okay, I will.

— Listen, I-I want you to be my girlfriend, Y/n. But I want to do this right...— Carmen started and before he could finish you stopped him, agreeing.

— I love you, Carmy. You asking me to be your girlfriend or not, it’s okay, we don’t need to do this like it’s a race. You agreed softly, looking into his eyes until the mood was broken by Richie shouting from the other side of the kitchen:

— Allright, cousin, enough of the mushiness. We need to close this restaurant. The older man appeared in the doorway and looked at you two with a bored face. — Didn’t know we could have sex at work.

— Shut up. Carmen said while you got up from his lap and Richie disappeared from your sight.

— Hey, want to sleep over? I’ll finish quickly. Carmen offered and you smiled, nodding your head gently.

— Sure. You said watching him leave the office and come back in a second.

— And hey, I love you too.

---

Requests are open ✨

[sinswithpleasure]

The Devils Send Their Regards — Giselle

—---------—

Warning: Coarse Language, specifically in the liberal use of it while disrespecting women. A lot of the use of "slut".

Finally finished because @midnightdancingsol complained there weren’t enough Giselle fics, which I agree.

A very early Christmas fic <3

—---------—

"Tis the season to be slutty, fa la la la la~"

Uchinaga Aeri admires the throng of drunken revelers dancing beneath her feet from her balcony. She drinks from her wine glass, the alcohol sending warmth down her throat as she swallows. Loud techno beats blast from the overhead speakers, the multi-colored lasers waving in their arcs across the walls. The dance floor is as full as always, just as it is every night. 

"Miss Uchinaga."

A waiter appears behind her with a bottle in hand. Aeri raises her glass, and he refills it with more red wine.

"Mm. Thank you, dear."

"My pleasure, Miss Uchinaga."

Even on Christmas, the club is just as busy as it would be on other days. Aeri giggles to herself—it just meant more prime specimens to scout out for. She takes a glance at the giant neon sign bathing her club in a deep red. 

La Fontaine De Jouvence

Aeri downs the glass of wine and leaves it on the parapet of the balcony. She takes in a deep breath—multiple scents register in her senses. Nothing escapes her notice, not when she owns the entire building. She has eyes on every nook and cranny of her club. 

'Oh, the folly of youth. Drugs, alcohol…'

Eyes flash bright green.

'Sex.'

She'll definitely have her share of the fountain tonight. 

—---------

Christmas Day means nothing to the wild youths of the party scene—it is nothing but another excuse to live hard, party harder. After all, holidays should be celebrated to its fullest extent, right?

You step into tonight's nightclub of choice—'La Fontaine De Jouvence'. You scoff at the idea of the pretentious name. The Fountain of Youth? It's just a nightclub, nothing fancy about it. Who, in their right mind, would name a club like that? 

A shake of your head, and you dismiss the thoughts. You're not here to ponder the intricate thought processes of a nightclub owner anyway; you're here to drink, maybe do some drugs, show your moves on the floor, and pick up a bitch whose pussy you're going to fill with your cum for tonight. It is with that thought that you step down to the bar for your first drink of the night. 

Reach the bottom of the stairs. Take two steps to your left to move past the couple making out. Take another two to the right to slide between two partygoers with snow still on their nostrils, dancing. You're right at home in this chaos. Christmas parties at the clubs are always pure fun due to the relaxed societal restrictions—the women are allowed to dress as slutty as they want to, and you're definitely leering at any of the Santa girls dancing around you. You drool at the sight of one of them drunkenly twerking to the loud bass emanating from the speakers, your cock hardening as her skirt rises up to reveal bare skin, her pussy out for all to view. Another girl next to her grinds against a man, and you're wishing you'll be as lucky as he is when she grabs his hand and slides it under her top. You reluctantly tear your eyes away from the free porn and hop onto one of the seats at the bar. 

"Gin and tonic, please."

You eye the bartender up and down when she turns to prepare your drink. Light brown locks cascade down her back. She's dressed in a Santa outfit, just like most of the other girls here are wearing, and you stare at the little strip of skin between her top and skirt. Your eyes roam next to her thighs—the skirt she has on ends mid-thigh, and you smirk at the thought of this girl, bent over the counter as you fuck her with that skirt on. 

When she turns around to you, you're met with one of the prettiest faces you've seen. Bright doe eyes above a cute button nose, with a pair of red luscious lips, you're instantly enamored with whoever this bartender is. The cherry on top is the red bunny ear headband she wears, topping the look off with a seductive finish.

"Here's ya gin and tonic, handsome!"

The wink she sends you has you almost drooling. 

"Thank you, beautiful."

The bartender giggles, and she bats her eyelashes, a coquettish grin across her angelic features. 

"You're welcome!"

When she busies herself with other orders from other patrons, you sip your first drink of the night slowly as you check her out. Your eyes follow her every step of her way—you whistle softly at the sway of her hips in that sinfully short skirt, your eyes devour the peek of cleavage whenever she bends over to pick up something from under the counter, and her long legs have your cock twitching as you imagine them wrapped around your waist during sex. Sure, she has knee-high boots on, but you're damned sure she's definitely fucking hot from top to toe. You grin at the bartender when she turns back to you, and she returns a seductive smile, her eyes somehow bright in the dim venue.

What escapes your notice were her eyes flashing orange when she looked back.

—--------

The more time you spend sitting at the bar, the more you feel your lust growing. All of it is directed at the bartender whose name you still don't know, and you're feeling exceptionally warm. The cool air of the strong air conditioning helps a little, but you're definitely feeling hot and bothered. 

"Is there somethin' wrong, dear?"

The bartender appears in front of you when you're wiping your sweat. The shock has you jumping, and the girl giggles. 

"Oh, sorry~. Ya looked a lil' sick, are you okay?"

You're drooling way too much at the way she bends over the counter, her deep cleavage right in your field of vision. 

"Uh…"

"Mm, you're quite warm…"

She raises her arm, the back of her fingers resting against your skin. You're inhaling copious amounts of her sweet scent—the fresh smell of tangerines is all you can register… 

God, you want to lick her armpits so badly. 

"I'm gonna getcha some water…

"Are ya sure ya okay?"

"S-Sure I am, beautiful."

There's a tinge of disbelief in her grin, but she doesn't bother to call you out. Instead she passes you a cup of iced water, and bends over in front of you again, her chin resting on her palm, a smirk over her face. 

Her eyes flash orange—

No, that must be a trick of the light.

"You've been staring a lot, handsome…

"Do ya like what’cha see?"

The scent of tangerines grows stronger—

You're drowning in it—

"How about you come meet me at the back after my sh—"

"Ning."

Both you and the bartender look to the source of the interruption—

Your jaw drops.

Straight dark brown… or red—no, that's the light—hair flowing down to mid-back, framing a round face with wonderfully done makeup. You're enthralled by the eyeliner and lashes, the glossy lips, but her eyes—her gaze is mesmerizing…

"Unnie!"

The call from your left brings you back to reality, the sounds of the loud techno music suddenly blasting around you once more. You stare at the two beautiful women as they look at each other—the bartender's—Ning's—grin never faltering, and the other nameless woman maintaining her impassive gaze. You take the chance to check the other hottie out.

A dark choker around her neck, adorned with gems of some sort. A short… dress-corset mix, maybe, is her clothing choice for the night, which leaves her meaty thighs exposed for your viewing pleasure. You gaze at the knee-high stockings she has on, the two bows at the top where it ends giving it a little seductive vibe. Black boots complete the look, and you want this fucking slut on your cock already. 

"... but—Un~nie!"

You return from your lustful adventure to Ning's whining. Ning’s pouting and stomping the ground like a petulant child, a far cry from the seductress earlier. She folds her arms and sulks.

"No, Ning."

"Fiiiine…" Ning somehow sulks even more when she gets her answer from the lady in front of you, and she gives you a little flirty wave and wink as she leaves to go serve another customer. You're starstruck by how hot she is again, and you resolve to come back and finish the job in the future, after you're done with the lady in front of you. 

"Hi, dear."

This woman's voice just drips sex—

"Are you having a wonderful night?"

She sinks into the empty seat next to you, and you sip on the water given earlier. 

"Well, I was… until Ning left—"

"Don't worry about her, dear…"

She reaches out a hand to shake.

"I'm Uchinaga Aeri, but you can call me Giselle."

Oh, a Japanese slut?

The smirk she has when you shake her hand unsettles you—

Did her eyes just glow green—?

You're left with no time to ponder the thought when she begins to speak. 

"And your name…?"

—--------

You're drowning in pussy, you think, as you join the youths on the dance floor. Giselle leads you in, your hand in hers, and the both of you start moving to the beats. However, you're more preoccupied with checking out the women around you. Being in the middle of all of these sluts has your cock straining against your pants, and you just want to tear the Santa dresses off them—

"Quit staring at them and just focus on me, dear."

Giselle raises a hand to push your head back to her. She's close—very close. Her body brushes against you as she dances, and you swear it's on purpose—her ass is definitely pressed against you, and she grinds herself against your bulge. With how close she is, all you're smelling is her. You don't know if it's perfume, and neither do you know if it's her natural scent. Whatever it is, Giselle smells fucking amazing, and you have to resist the urge to bury your nose into her neck and take a deep whiff. As you dance with her, your hands slide down to her hips, and Giselle turns and grins at you. She presses even closer, and soon enough, you're grinding against her, right there on the dance floor. It's warm, it's crowded, and it's a little uncomfortable, but you don't care—you're grinding against one of the hottest women you've seen, and she's reciprocating, even moaning softly as your hard cock glides between her fucking thick asscheeks. 

"Fuck, you're so damn hot, Giselle."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, you're making me wanna fuck you right here, baby."

Giselle bites her lip and grins, and your cock twitches at such a sexy sight. 

"Do it."

Your jaw drops.

"What?"

"Do it. Fuck me right here."

"But the people—"

"I don't care, and neither should you."

Giselle reaches a hand around to your bulge, and she runs her hand along your clothed length. Her fingers grip onto the zipper, and you feel the vibrations of the track being undone, then her hand sliding under your pants to rub your shaft over your underwear. 

"Wai—"

"Shh…"

Giselle turns around, and without warning, her lips are on yours. You waste no time in making it an openmouthed kiss, and when Giselle's tongue glides against yours, lust envelops you. The kiss feels so amazing—Giselle kisses amazingly well, and you can't help but moan into the kiss when she grabs your bulge. Fingers slide beneath your pants again, but this time, Giselle pulls at your underwear, and soon enough, she has your cock out of the zipper. 

"You're so big, dear, wow… You'll stretch my pussy good, won't you?"

Her lips reconnect with yours, and you groan again when she begins to jerk you off. You don't care that it's on the dance floor. You don't care that people might notice—not that they do, magically. In fact, you don't even care about any ramifications. Hell, you don't even know or care about how you can hear Giselle under all that loud music without her even raising her voice at all. All you care about is that you're about to have sex with one of the sexiest sluts you've ever met.

"Oh wow, you're really wet, aren't you?"

Giselle raises her hand. Her fingers glisten with your pre-cum, and she licks it off while staring at you. 

"Mm, healthy…

"Come on, fuck me."

You watch in sheer lust as Giselle turns around and bends over. She pulls at the hem of her dress, and your cock twitches at the sight of her dripping pussy exposed for your viewing pleasure. 

"Surprise, dear. I didn't wear any underwear tonight."

Giselle grabs your shaft and leads you to her entrance. She rubs your cockhead against her slit, and she smirks when your cock presses against her hole, almost entering her.

"Put it in, baby. I wanna see how men like you fuck sluts like me."

Without any warning, you thrust into her with one hard stroke. You groan loudly in pleasure, as does Giselle. She arches her back when you push in, and you wrap your arms around her body to pull her close. Finally, you push your nose right against her nape and take in deep breathfuls of her scent. 

An impossible heat takes over your body—you feel so warm, almost too warm, yet very comfortable right where you are. Dimly, in the back of your mind, you know you're still in the club, right on the dance floor, but somehow, it doesn't matter. No one has noticed you and Giselle, and no one's filming anything. Everyone is dancing and drinking as per normal, even when right next to them, you have Giselle in a standing doggy position, your cock hilted deep in her pussy, your connection to her exposed right for everyone to see. You don't know how or why no one's noticed—but it doesn't matter at all, not when your cock's deep in a slut's pussy. That's all you care about—no one's looking, and you can fuck her in peace. In fact, it's even better if no one's looking.

"Stop thinking and just fuck my slut pussy, baby."

And fuck her, you do.

You pull yourself out from her cunt, then shove it all back in with one stroke. You can't help but moan loudly once more, as does Giselle. Giselle's pussy feels like paradise—you've never fucked a cunt that somehow molds around your cock just right. Every time you thrust in, her walls magically feel heavenly—she's warm, tight, wet, divine. The world around you melts away and the pleasure of sex with Giselle becomes the only thing you care about. Gradually, you begin to pound her right where you stand, which draws the sexiest and most wanton, obscene moans you've ever heard a woman moan. It only fuels you to fuck her faster, harder—you can feel your abs burn, your thighs almost cramping up. None of it matters—the pleasure that Giselle's tight body brings you overpowers the discomfort. 

"That's right, fuck me just like that! Fuck my slut pussy just like that! I love it, I love the way you fuck me! Keep fucking me, fuck me until you fill my slut pussy with cum! Empty your balls in me, pump me full of your cum! Feed me all of your cum!"

Giselle's words fuel the flames of your lust—what was already there is only empowered, and you take the chance to give her thick ass a hard slap, which draws even louder moans from her. 

"Yes, yes, spank me, make it hurt! Punish me, punish me for being such a slut! Punish me for fucking you right here in front of everyone, show them all how you're taming me!"

With a loud roar, you spank Giselle over and over. However, the thought you taming her sits right in your mind and you only last another three hard thrusts—

"FUCK!"

"Yes, yes, yes, YES!"

On the third thrust, you force your entire length into Giselle, and you explode into her cunt. You've never had an orgasm so intense—your knees nearly buckle and send both you and her tumbling to the floor. While you fight to keep both of you standing, your cock fires off shot after shot after shot of thick, hot semen right into Giselle's cunt. You don't know how many jets of semen you deposit into her waiting pussy—all you know is that it is enough to overflow around your connection and drip to the ground where you stand. At the same time, Giselle moans and shudders, her hips bucking intensely, her body convulsing under your touch as her orgasm arrives right after yours. Her pussy milks your cock for every shot of your cum, and you can hear the loud hisses of release as she squirts all over the floor and on your pants. Gush after gush after gush of squirt sprays all over the dance floor, and her juices mix with your semen in a puddle below your connection. 

You have no idea how long your orgasms take to pass, but when you finally pull your softening cock out of Giselle, you see that your cum runs down her thighs and stains her stockings. The girl in question turns around and crashes her lips to yours in a torrid kiss, then she asks you the question you've set out to hear for tonight. 

"My place or yours?"

—------—

"Nngh, fuck, that's right, keep fucking me like that, yes!"

The taxi ride back to your place isn't free of sin either—Giselle's naked and bouncing on your cock. You're naked under her too—your clothes and hers mix in a pile to your right—and you thrust up into her over and over. 

Once you'd gotten into the taxi with her, somehow the driver only focused on driving. Even as Giselle suddenly mounted you and started undressing, the driver didn't seem to notice. You were wondering why earlier, but once Giselle's pussy enveloped your cock again, none of that mattered any more. 

"God, fuck, your slut pussy feels so good, oh fuck…"

"I'm gonna cum, baby!"

Giselle screams out loud when her sentence ends. She shudders and falls back on you, and your cock springs out of her pussy as she squirts hard against the front seat of the car. Gush after gush of her juices drench the leather—your fingers rubbing her clit extend and strengthen her orgasm, and the pleasure she draws from it. You don't even wait for her orgasm to subside before you shove your cock back in her and start thrusting again—nothing can and will tear you away from being balls deep in Giselle's perfect cunt.

"Oh God, yes, that's right, it's your turn, cum for me, cum inside me!"

"Argh!"

With a low growl, you rail Giselle with your hard cock. You can feel the exertion across your body—sweat drips from your forehead and chest, your heart pounds against your ribcage, and your muscles work overtime to keep up with the fucking you're giving Giselle. You have no idea where this energy comes from—you're fucking her harder than you have any girl and you feel like you're on top of the world, no exhaustion at all.

You don't even bother announcing your orgasm—you just let yourself burst deep into Giselle again. Her walls almost seem to massage your cock, as if to coax more and more of your load deep into her. Giselle shudders as spurt after spurt of your warm cum is fired deep into her womb with every thrust of your cock deep into her cunt. 

"Oh God, yes, fill me more, fuck yes!"

Your orgasm might as well be never-ending, with how much cum erupts from your cock. Your thick semen overflows from Giselle's cunt, and with each burst of fresh cum, you feel your load drip out of her cunt and stain your skin, as well as the floor of the taxi.

When the taxi slows to a halt, Giselle pulls out her wallet and throws a few bills in the direction of the driver. She grabs the pile of clothes and steps out of the taxi naked. She pulls your hand to lead you out of the vehicle, and when the door closes, it drives off into the night. Neither of you care about the mess you've made—it's not your issue to bother about. The only thing that is important to you is to get into Giselle's home—you're going to have sex with that slut all night. 

"Let's get in quick, baby. I miss that cock already."

—-------—

Giselle's had fuckings like the one she's getting right now from you. She's no stranger to sex, that much you know from how hard she fucks herself back on you. You have her bent over her couch, the bottle of lube she had lying around thrown onto the other side of it. The expensive leather bends under her knees, and you pump harsh thrust after harsh thrust of your cock deep into Giselle once more. 

"Mgh, fuck, that's it, fuck my ass harder, fuck it like you fucked my pussy!"

You're buried balls deep in Giselle's asshole now. Her idea, really—she wanted you to use her body fully, and she's also the one who led you to the couch. Your cock twitched hard watching her spread her ass for you, and you'd wasted no time lubing your cock up and pushing it deep into her. Right now, you're well on your way to thoroughly using her asshole—you make good on her instructions and fuck her just as hard as you did earlier. Dimly, you wonder how you can keep going like this—you're not tired at all.

In fact, you feel like you're on top of the world. 

The thoughts that keep you occupied are broken when you orgasm again, unexpectedly. Once again, jet after jet of semen is pumped deep into Giselle's ass, and you thrust recklessly into her to fuck your load deeper into her. When you slip out of her ass in one of your strong pulls backward, you stroke yourself as you give her backshots, leaving her skin glistening as you stain her body with your semen. 

"Shower, baby?"

—------—

Even in the shower, you can't escape Giselle's clutches. 

You have the Japanese girl pinned against the glass, one of her legs lifted up as you thrust with reckless abandon into her perfect pussy. The water doesn't even hit your body—you're wasting all of it right now, but you don't care at all. Trails of white cum stains the glass and Giselle's skin as it leaks out of her ass and cunt with every thrust you send into her body.

"God, yes, make me cum, yes, make me—!"

Giselle's broken moan is accompanied by the strong geyser of squirt that gushes against your skin. Her orgasming cunt spits your cock out, and you waste no time forcing yourself back in her and fucking her through her orgasm. Hot spray after hot spray of the Japanese girl's squirt drenches your skin every time you pull out, and her tight, warm walls mold so perfectly around your cock. You're not far from another orgasm, and Giselle's pussy feels like heaven as usual, with its sole purpose to milk you dry of all the semen you had. Two more hard thrusts, and you explode deep into the creamy mess that is Giselle's cunt. Your semen overflows and drips off your cock, every spurt you send into her pussy displacing more and more semen from all of your past sessions. 

"God, that felt so good, Giselle."

"As it should, baby. I'm the best fuck a man will ever have."

—-------—

You're feeling a little dizzy from the hedonistic activities of the past few hours. The elevated heart rate probably does you no good, and you're feeling a little hungry after expending so much energy fucking the slut that clings to your arm still. You have no idea how she's still so insatiable. 

"Come on, baby, you've only cum once in my ass. I want more of it!"

Neither you nor Giselle have bothered to get dressed—you knew you were definitely having more sex with her, but you just want a break for now. You’re definitely not getting that break though—Giselle somehow has unlimited stamina, and she’s hell-bent on unleashing all of it on you. You’re seated on a chair in her room, and she bounces on your lap, impaling herself over and over on your cock with her tight, lubed asshole. Your hands rest on her hips, and you thrust upwards into her slick hole, grunting with each time you hilt. The pleasure that Giselle’s ass gives you is comparable to that of her cunt—somehow, you swear it’s just as tight and feels almost similar, though you have no idea why or how. All you know is that Giselle’s the best fuck ever, and you’re more than happy to keep filling her body with cum. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

With a loud shrill cry, Giselle orgasms for the umpteenth time. A huge gush of juices spray from her pussy as she squirts all over the floor, semen and slick dripping from her thoroughly used hole. At the same time, you release yet another thick load deep into Giselle’s ass, fucking spurt after spurt of hot pearly white cum deep into her once more. You’ve lost count of how much cum you’ve pumped into her tonight, but you don’t want to stop at all. You want to fill this goddess with your cum over and over and over.

Before you can move to get up from the chair, Giselle’s already a step ahead of you. She has your slick cock, stained with cum and lube, in her hands, and you stare in burning lust as she deepthroats your shaft, uncaring that it was just in her ass earlier. Giselle stares right into your eyes, and you swear she’s reading your mind with the way her gaze screams “that’s right, i’m a filthy, filthy girl that’s addicted to your cock tonight”. You can’t resist grabbing her head, and next thing you know, you’ve risen to your feet, your hands gripping her head to steady it as your fuck her face. Drool drips from her lips, down your balls and down her chin, but you don’t care, not even if Giselle sounds like she’s choking. All you care about is emptying another load into her mouth and down her throat. Of course, it doesn’t take long before the familiar sensation comes, and you’re filling the Japanese girl’s mouth with another thick load, which she swallows almost greedily, as if she can’t get enough of it. 

“Thank you my dear~,” Giselle’s sweet smile as she rises has you grinning back unconsciously. When she draws close, you don’t even care that she still has your cum on her lips—you’re kissing her back harshly, your tongue swirling around hers as she sits on your lap, a hand guiding your cock towards her pussy once more. When she sinks down on you, you can’t help but moan out loud, and that’s when she takes the chance to pull you in for another kiss. 

“I’m going to fuck you dry, babe.”

—--------—

Make good on her promise she does. 

You’re lost as to which round it is with Giselle. 

Right now, you have her bent over your desk now, her hair gripped in your palm tightly as you yank her head back with it, your hips slamming relentlessly against the Japanese girl’s ass. However, you’ve had her in that position in many other places now—on the countertop, in bed, on the couch, in the bathroom, in bed again, and the list goes on and on and on…

Your heart pounds in your chest as sweat drips from your brow, down your body, all from exertion. You’ve gone without a break ever since the club, and you still feel fresh, as if it were the first round. At least, you’re still fucking Giselle as if it were the first round. The desk beneath the both of you crashes against the wall with every thrust.

“Fuck me harder, harder! Use me, fuck me, fuck my pussy like I’m a fleshlight! Shoot your cum deep into me again!”

Giselle’s demands are your instructions, and you follow them to a tee. You force yourself to go faster, harder, quicker, even more than before, and the pleasure you derive has you delirious. Giselle’s pussy is the best you’ve fucked, and you don’t want to stop—you want to keep fucking her until you die. 

“That’s right, fuck me, fuck me until you’re dead! Fuck this pussy until you milk yourself dry! Feed me!”

It is with Giselle’s words that heralds your orgasm—this time, you feel bursts of cum explode out of your cock, and the excitement comes to a head when you feel the same bursts in your chest. You can’t breathe, no matter how hard you try, as sparks fly in your vision, the pleasure overwhelming you with every shot of cum that explodes deep into Giselle’s thoroughly used cunt. 

The last thing you remember is seizing up, then falling backwards, then black.

—-------—

“Thanks for the meal, baby. You were such a great fuck.”

Aeri stares at her now former partner for the night, lying on the ground behind her. He still twitches as the last of his life force evaporates from him, and then he stops moving. Forever.

With a snap of her fingers, the corpse beneath her feet bursts into green flame. Flesh begins to char underneath the extreme heat of the soulfire, and in a matter of seconds, any evidence of the man’s physical existence is erased, as if he never came over to her home. With a wave of her hands, her usual sweatshirt and pants combination clothes her bare body, and she leaves for her in-house bar to pour herself another glass of wine.

Vrrrt.

Her phone vibrates.

[Jimin | 03:15am]

Meeting. Now.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 44 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley swallows his pride and seeks out a conversation with Admiral Simpson, but he's surprised by the response he gets. You keep everyone on their toes, and you do it so effortlessly, Bradley knows it's time to go shopping. And he uses Skittles as the perfect cover.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

When Bradley parked at work a little early on Monday, he sat in the Bronco for a few extra minutes. He had just witnessed you and Noah making breakfast together, and it was making it really hard to be away from you right now. When he walked into the kitchen, you were brewing coffee and singing the dinosaur song with his son while the two of you spread that weird avocado stuff that you liked so much on some toast. He had started to love it, too, and Noah would eat anything you made. 

He removed his aviators and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was so much he wanted to get done this week, including looking at a few engagement rings, but he knew better than to make any sort of excuses to get some time alone. That had nearly backfired on him when he went to get Skittles. He was going to have to get creative somehow.

When he pulled out his phone to call the animal shelter about getting Skittles' cast removed, he froze. Across the parking lot, Nat and Javy were both getting out of his car. "Interesting," he muttered to himself as he watched his best friend groping their coworker, and he grimaced. He'd already seen too much. 

"Hello, this is the San Diego shelter. How can I help you?"

Bradley nearly dropped his phone; he'd forgotten he was making the call. "Yeah, hi. I need to schedule an appointment to have my dog's cast removed?"

"Oh! Are you talking about the Yorkie?"

He smiled as he climbed out onto the already hot pavement. "Yeah. Skittles. I'm hoping she has sufficiently healed."

"Why don't you stop in on Wednesday and we can check her out."

"Sounds good, thanks," he replied, following Nat and Javy at a very conservative distance. But apparently he wasn't cautious enough. 

"So," Nat sighed once Bradley joined her in the hangar, "you saw Javy and I in the parking lot." It wasn't a question, so he decided to just nod and roll his eyes in response. "Oh, come on, Rooster. I'm just having some fun."

"Look at him," Bradley muttered, glancing to where the man in question was smiling at Nat. "Are you serious right now? You want to make him cry or something?"

Now she was the one rolling her eyes. "I'm not taking advice from you. You're historically terrible at dating."

"I'm doing a pretty good job now," he said, smiling as he thought about you.

"You can't even get Cyclone off your girl."

Bradley covered his face with one big palm. "You noticed that?"

Nat laughed. "Everyone at the botanic gardens on Saturday night noticed that."

"Fuck," he groaned. "If she wasn't so young and so fucking hot, I wouldn't be about to embarrass myself by trying to get him to let me fly in the air show."

She just shook her head as she reached for her helmet and muttered, "Oh, cry me a river."

"Hey." Bradley turned just in time to see Javy greeting the two of them like a puppy looking for Nat's attention. He was honestly worse than Skittles at the moment. "The guys are talking about a beach day this weekend. You know, since the summer is ending."

"We don't need to do another beach day. We live in San Diego," Nat replied as she sipped the coffee she wasn't supposed to have inside the hangar. "It's the same season all year round."

Javy laughed like she was a comedian, and Bradley looked back and forth between the two of them, completely baffled by this dynamic. There's no way you and he made a couple this wild. 

"Yeah, but it's still the end of August," Javy said, now smiling at Nat as if she was the most adorable thing in the world. "Rooster, you can bring your girl and your kid. It'll be fun."

"You know what," he replied, "I think I'll go if Nat goes."

Then Bradley strolled away as they started arguing, because he saw Admiral Simpson on his way to the tower. He just needed to get Cyclone alone for a few minutes, swallow his pride, and try to head Jake off for the air show. The opportunity arose after lunch when Bradley caught him checking his phone outside the rec room door.

"Admiral Simpson, sir," he greeted before grinding his back teeth while he thought about you. "May I have a word?"

Cyclone glanced up before pocketing his phone, a look of vague amusement on his face. "Lieutenant. What can I do for you?"

"It's about the upcoming air show. Sir. I was hoping you could tell me if you'd made selections regarding who would be flying in it."

His look of amusement grew. "I have not. I believe that was on my agenda for today or tomorrow." He paused before adding, "I've been meaning to thank you for that glass of bourbon on Saturday night. Woodford Reserve is one of my favorites."

Bradley remained unflinching. Although he had no idea what Admiral Simpson was talking about, he thought it better to simply agree with him. "Yes. The Woodford Reserve." 

He nearly took a step backwards when the other man started laughing. "You'll have to thank your girlfriend for me, too. And I'm assuming the reason you're here is because you want to fly in the air show?"

"Yes...sir," Bradley replied slowly, feeling very off balance now that Cyclone was being so agreeable. 

Still chuckling, he said, "I'll see what I can do," before turning and walking away. 

Once he was out of earshot, Bradley pushed through the door to the rec room as he muttered, "What the fuck was that?"

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

It was almost fun for you to pick Noah up from daycare now. Not that you would ever admit that out loud. But the enjoyment you found in the way Casey pouted at you was a bit of a guilty pleasure, and besides, you got to have Noah greet you like you were the most exciting and interesting person in the world.

"Mommy!" he called out as he ran across the lobby and into your arms. "Guess what my craft is!"

"A dinosaur?" you asked as you shot an extremely fake smile at Casey before heading outside.

"Nope."

"A... dog? Did you make Skittles?" you asked as you put him in your car.

"Nope."

"The solar system?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. Will you give me a hint?" you asked, brushing his soft curls away from his forehead and giving him a kiss. But he was already unzipping his bag and pulling out his newest painting. There was a big, light blue shape that looked like it could have been Bradley's Bronco along with a man who appeared to be sporting a mustache. "Is that Daddy?"

"Yes!"

Then you noticed a little brown blob. "Is that Skittles?"

"Yes! She's his best friend!"

You laughed, because Noah wasn't wrong. Skittles seemed to love Bradley the most, and as much as he tried to fight it, the dog won him over. "She is," you agreed before buckling him in. "She's his best friend besides Aunt Natasha."

Noah shook his head. "She doesn't count, because she's an Aunt."

"Right, right," you said, not wanting to fight his childhood logic when Skittles wasn't even a human. "You're completely right. Should we go home?"

You started singing the dinosaur song as you drove, and because of a detour, you had to drive past the park where Meredith had chased you down. A shiver rippled through your body as you remembered falling and scraping up your arm in your haste to get Noah safely in your car. You hated coming home this way. There was a reason you never did it.

"Mommy, why did you stop singing?"

You glanced in the mirror at Noah's face. "Sorry! Where were we? The part about how the dinosaur stomp, stomp, stomps?"

Bradley was already home when you pulled into the driveway, and you found him dozed off on the couch with Skittles curled up on his chest. Two seconds later, he was jolting awake with the dog in his hand as Noah ran for him. "Daddy! I made you! Out of paint!"

"Cool," Bradley told him, pulling Noah onto his broad chest as well. "And how's Mommy?" he asked, his voice a little raspier just for you. "How was your day, Princess?"

You shook off the last remaining thoughts of Casey and Meredith as you leaned down to kiss him. "Pretty good." He chased your lips for more, but his arms were too full of Noah and Skittles for him to be able to reach for you. "Looks like you're still tired from the weekend," you said with a wink.

"I had a nice conversation with Cyclone today." 

"Oh? About what?" you asked as you started to head to the kitchen to make dinner. 

His expression remained completely neutral as he told you, "Bourbon. Woodford Reserve, to be specific." When you said nothing, he added, "We can chat about it later."

So you made spaghetti, knowing you'd been found out. You had been tipsy on Saturday night at the retirement party, but you were pretty sure you remembered what you did. Probably. You hoped Bradley wasn't mad at you over it, but he seemed to be in a good mood as he ate dinner and offered to give Noah a bath while you walked Skittles. 

She was stubborn for you at first, plopping down on the front porch and whimpering for Bradley while you tugged gently on her leash. "Come on. You're making me look bad! You were my idea. Mine and Noah's." When she remained in her spot, you had to reach into your pocket and say, "Treat?" That did the trick, and you got her to take a slow lap around the block with you while you broke a milkbone into little bites and gave it to her. 

When you returned home, Skittles bounded into the house to get to Bradley where he was sitting on the bathroom floor, looking comically enormous with Noah's rubber duck in his hand. You stood in the doorway and watched him automatically reach down to pet the little pup, taking caution with her casted leg while he rinsed the shampoo out of Noah's hair. 

"You want to go to the beach this weekend, Bub?" he asked softly. "With Aunt Natasha?"

"Can Skittles come?" Noah asked, and you watched Bradley place a soft kiss on his wet forehead that left you reeling. Suddenly you couldn't wait for Noah to be in bed so you could have him all to yourself. 

"Maybe. If she gets her cast off on Wednesday," he replied softly as the dog fully plopped down with her head on his thigh. 

"Daddy?" you asked from your spot in the doorway. It was almost a whine, and when he looked up at you, you were certain he knew what you were thinking about by the little smirk on his lips.

He reached into the tub to drain the water as he asked, "Do you need some attention?"

You just nodded, still in your scrubs from work, but you felt too warm now as you pressed your thighs together. "Yes."

"Fifteen minutes, and then you can have it," he replied with an edge to his voice. "Can you wait that long?"

"I can try," you murmured before you turned to go into Noah's room and get his dinosaur pajamas ready. Anything to expedite bedtime. You listened while Bradley took his time reading three stories, and then you kissed Noah's forehead before you tried to pull Bradley toward the hallway.

He chuckled and whispered, "I'll meet you on the couch."

"Oooh, the couch," you said before running from the room. Before you could even decide what you wanted to do, Bradley was behind you wrapping his arms around your waist and tickling your neck with his mustache.

"I kind of miss those nights when I would help you study."

You moaned softly. "Anatomy really is your specialty."

You felt him pull his right hand away from your body, but before you could complain, it reappeared in front of you with a bag of Skittles on his palm. When you spun in his arms and kissed him, you whispered, "You're so sweet."

Bradley lifted you up and took you the few steps to the couch where you settled in straddling his lap while you opened your candy. "If you're this excited about something I picked up at the gas station, I wonder what you'll do if I buy you something a little more expensive."

You met his soft eyes and leaned in to kiss him. "How much more expensive are we talking?" you asked, treating him to the orange Skittle you pulled out of the bag. He parted his lips and you slipped it between them, watching his jaw work as he chewed it up. 

"A lot more expensive," he replied as you ate three candies. "Hey, this is a 50/50 relationship here, Princess."

You shoved a small handful into his mouth and kissed his cheeks as he sputtered and chewed. "I'll share everything I have with you. Too bad I don't have much."

Bradley swallowed down the treat and reached for your free hand. "You give me everything I need. Everything I want, too."

You basked in the warmth of his words as your eyes closed, and a welcome heat crept into your cheeks. "I love you."

"Then I think you'll love what I'm planning on buying for you," he whispered as his mustache grazed your chin and jaw. 

You grinned, hoping you already knew what he was talking about, but too afraid to say it out loud. So you pushed the thought from your mind and scooted a little closer toward him on his lap. "What's this I'm hearing about a beach day? And Skittles getting her cast off? This is all news to me."

He didn't miss a beat as he wrapped his big hands around your hips and said, "What's this I'm hearing about some bourbon at the retirement party? It's all news to me."

"Oh," you whispered softly before eating more Skittles, buying yourself a little time to think. "Well, you see... I wasn't exactly sober."

"You're joking," he deadpanned. 

You rolled your eyes and shoved more candy into his mouth. "I may have had a glass of bourbon sent over to Admiral Simpson, courtesy of Lieutenant Bradshaw and his girlfriend..."

After a few quiet blinks, Bradley's head tipped back in laughter so loud that Skittles the pup came running into the room. "You didn't!" Bradley said. "I have to work with that man!" 

"Somebody had to make the big move, Daddy! It cleared the tension!"

He met your eyes, still shaking his head and smirking. "It also made you look like Daddy's good little girl."

Your heart skipped around in your chest at his words, and you set your candy aside in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck. "Am I not? Daddy's good little girl?"

"Oh, you absolutely are," he replied as he lifted your top inch by inch. "I just never thought my boss's boss would see it that way." 

You raised your hands up in the air, eager to lose your shirt, but he took his sweet time about it. "Daddy."

"You can be patient," he whispered, smiling when he saw your purple bra. "Pretty." Your top dropped to the floor as he cupped you through the lace, finding your nipples right away. "You feel like going to the beach on Saturday?"

Bradley's lips found the tops of your breasts, and you could no longer formulate real words. You just hummed in response already knowing he was going to take expert care of you right now and on Saturday as well.

"You could wear your purple bikini and tell all the other guys to fuck off," he said as he ran his nose softly along your skin while he unhooked your bra and let it fall next to your top. 

"Would you like that?" you asked as your fingers tangled up in his hair. He answered you by nodding as he took your nipple between his lips. Bradley was all big hands on your bare skin and just the perfect amount of roughness. "Oh god," you whined. 

And then he had you on your back in the middle of the area rug with his body over yours. His thigh was rubbing you through your thin pants, and you bucked up gently against him as his heavy weight pressed deliciously against your body. "I love you," he grunted as you tugged at his hair. 

"I love you so much, Daddy," you gasped as he yanked your pants and underwear down and off, leaving you in only your socks. He fumbled with the front of his pants for just a few seconds before pulling his length free, and you spread your legs wide for him.

His lips and tongue were wet on your neck as you held him close, lost in the domesticity of having sex here now. Just like your first time with him. Right next to the snag in the rug. But this time you could hear Skittles' claws tapping across the kitchen floor, and you could see some of Noah's crayons that had rolled under the couch while Bradley fucked you. You could smell the lingering scent of the pasta sauce from the dinner you made. You could taste Bradley's now familiar tongue as it met yours. And you could feel his rough hands on your hips and belly where he'd now touched you hundreds of times. 

You fell in love with the flood of familiarity he brought to your senses, and it left you smiling up at him when he broke the kiss. "Jesus," he grunted, cupping one cheek in his hand. You kissed the side of his thumb as he stroked your skin, and you watched him slowly come undone for you. "I'll get you there," he promised, changing his angle so he rubbed your clit with each movement.

Just like the first time, he filled you up as soon as you came, and your name was all over his lips as you smiled at the lost crayons before closing your eyes. Bradley collected you against his body as he eased himself down onto his side, and you sighed contentedly. You held onto his wrist as he ran his hand along your hair and kissed you. In that moment you would have agreed to anything he said. 

"Baby, I'll be a little late on Wednesday night. I have to take Skittles to get her cast off, and then I need to stop at the store."

You hummed softly in response, pressing your lips to his. "Sounds good."

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

The only time Bradley heard from you on Wednesday was when you told him that one of your patients came in with an emergency, and you wanted to let him know you'd be helping Dr. Kelly with a minor surgical procedure. He was excited for you, but he didn't want to bother you. Even though he had good news.

"Congrats," Jake drawled in the locker room after a very long day of flying. "Don't know how you managed to pull this one off, but I heard you're flying in the air show."

Bradley ran his towel over his chest before tossing it into his locker. "Thanks," he grunted, trying not to smile. He'd be able to take you on the tour of the hospital with him, and then you and Noah could watch him fly. His son had never seen him in the air before, and it gave Bradley goosebumps knowing that the two of you would be able to do that together. 

Jake gave him one last appraising look before he got dressed. Honestly, it was probably the fact that you upped the ante with Cyclone that Bradley was chosen over the others. Perhaps now things could be called even. You managed to keep everyone on their toes in the best way, and it made him smile even now. 

You were in rare form this week, luring him in for living room floor sex when there was a perfectly new bed in the bedroom. And then last night, you got him to watch a Disney princess movie with you, even after Noah was in bed, and Bradley had begrudgingly enjoyed it. You were laying across his lap on your back when the end credits rolled, and you said, "If you're a good boy, I'll make you beignets just like Princess Tiana."

Bradley had smirked. "Do those have cream filling?"

"No," you whispered as he eased your shirt up so his palm was flat on your belly. 

"Do you want some?" 

He had been thinking about getting you pregnant as he made you bury your face in the couch pillows to keep you quiet.

And that was just one of the many reasons he was about to leave work and head home to grab Skittles before stopping at the jewelry store across town. If Casey managed to bump into there and ruin this surprise as well, he would probably lose his mind. But the jeweler near the animal shelter was one of the best in the city, so that was where he would go. 

Bradley awkwardly held Skittles while he drove, and eventually she curled up with her head on his thigh while he sat in traffic. She seemed to be doing great, so he hoped that was a good sign that the cast could come off. You and Noah were delighted with her, and she somehow made Bradley fall in love, too. 

"Yeah, you're sweet," he told her, scratching her behind the ears while he drove. He parallel parked the Bronco with one hand while he continued to pet her, and when he took her inside the shelter, he held onto her a little tighter. It was hard to believe she'd been here just a few weeks ago, completely unwanted. 

Bradley pressed kisses to the top of her head as he waited for the receptionist to finish her phone call. When she hung up, she asked, "And who do we have here?"

"Skittles Bradshaw," he replied, nuzzling his nose against her fur and wondering how on earth he had gotten so attached to this little pup. "Hopefully she can get her cast off today."

He only had to wait a few minutes, and then he watched as they examined her before cutting into the cast plaster. Once she was free, Skittles took a few tentative steps across the exam table, and then she jumped right back into Bradley's arms. 

After he paid the monstrous bill for such a small creature, he carried her down the sidewalk, enjoying the cooling temperature as the sun set. When he checked his phone, he saw that you'd finally texted him again.

My Princess: Noah and I are going to play at the park near the beach. Leftovers when you get home?

He typed out a quick message letting you know that sounded perfect. Thoughts of you and Noah together filled his mind as he entered the jewelry store, and two women looked up at him and Skittles. "Is it okay if I have her in here?" he asked, but they both immediately rushed over, practically screeching about how cute his dog was. Honestly, the pet would have probably worked out better than the dating app had for him.

"What are you looking for?" the first woman asked as she petted Skittles on her head. 

A soft smile made its way to his lips as he said, "An engagement ring."

"Oh! Of course, let's just head over here to see what you like best. Do you have anything specific in mind?"

Bradley followed behind her as he nodded and said, "A princess cut diamond."

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

A princess for a Princess. Also, there is no way Skittles wouldn't be a magnet for all the ladies. A big man with a small dog... just fuck. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 45

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[disregardandfelicity]

i was lucky enough to attend the premiere on tuesday (as the +1 of a contest winner); in case this is of interest (and, indulgently, to preserve it for my own memory), here are some tidbits from my night:

for the screening, the cast had assigned seats (jacob and delainey in the same row, sam behind jacob, eric behind sam, assad on the other side of the aisle, the same side as rolin, hannah, and mark johnson). sam and jacob were off to the side chatting during intros and never sat in theirs

delainey got applause from the audience upon her first on screen appearance, the only cast member to get one

daniel had a fair few interview beats which got laughs from the audience

afterwards, an actor from the venue came up and gave a little speech as though he was from a sister coven to the TdV in paris. then we were dismissed to the party, which was upstairs

initially post party, assad and luke were in the front larger room of the reception - sam and jacob were, i believe, already gathered in a far back corner in the second room, along with some other people. eric didn't stay for the party

the venue had a couple little 'shows' - at one point the whole cast and some other guests went up several flights of stairs to a room (delainey commented on how many flights there were as we climbed) where a version of the no pain scene from the books was reenacted by venue actors

kalyne coleman was there, i saw her chatting with jacob. i let her cut in front of me for drinks as an excuse to talk to her. there's a nod to grace in the episode and it sounded like that was a surprise to her (a pleasant one!)

my conversations with the cast were deeply unsubstantive, i was too pleased to be there to come up with anything too clever or probing to say tbh

when i spoke to jacob, i started by saying "sorry" (just reflexively) and he immediately, very warmly, was like what are you apologizing for! when i said how excited i was for the season and he said something like 'i hope it doesn't disappoint' (which i did think was surprisingly pessimistic for a premiere party lol but having seen the quote about hoping ppl still like louis by the end, maybe he is actually a tad concerned! i did obviously say i didn't think it would)

sam was the best at these meetings because he very naturally asks questions back. i told him i loved him in the newsreader as well, and he asked whether i was pirating it (i'm not exactly, i had a vpn). then we all walked off to do that no pain scene experience

after the no pain scene, we exited down some stairs which opened to the second smaller room. assad was behind me so i asked him who did it better (these actors or the show), and we joked about that. he then introduced himself to me, and when i couldn't help noting that i did in fact know who he was, he said he would never want to assume. sam came up to us and assad introduced him to me, and i got the joy of saying we'd met!

(SKIP this bullet if you don't want newsreader vibes-based spoilers) sam asked me what i liked better, iwtv or the newsreader. i said iwtv but that newsreader was great and season 2 was so sad! he said season 3 is the last of the series, and told me it's dark and bleak, worse than season 2, maybe only a second of peace/happiness at the end. so. there's that to look forward to....

he also told me about the crossover staffing between shows (emma and the DOP). i tried to ask if he was responsible for any of that but dont think i articulated it well but he said 'you want to work with the people you like'

my delainey convo was brief, i turned while we were walking up to the no pain thing and realized she was next to me, so just took the opportunity to let her know i was excited about her in next season

around 10-ish, sam and jacob left to (i believe?) go to levan's friends bar, along with hannah and others i didn't recognize. assad and luke were around for another 30-40 minutes after that, then the whole thing ended at 11. i didn't notice when or with who delainey left

delainey, as far as i noticed, did the least mingling; assad and luke did the most. generally speaking (and as expected) sam and jacob hung around together or in the same spaces. also perhaps as expected, assad and luke were hanging around together for lots of the night. at the end of the night, when it felt less burdensome to ask, i got a pic with those two. they were very cool about it, luke was sweet, we'd spoken earlier, he stuck out his tongue for one of the shots and he found me again later to chat

that photocall video i took (above) was after the 'no pain' experience.

[princessbrunette]

okay so hi! i wanted to send in a lil jj and rafe prompt myself for the kook princess.

so i lowkey think that she gets tired of the beefing one day and she’s just all upset because she doesn’t know what to do or who to chose in this whole situation, so she just pulls a “if i can’t have you both i don’t want either of you” which was hard enough for her to do anyway because let’s be so real standing on business with RAFE & JJ is hell in itself. so she like really stands on business doesn’t come around either of them avoiding parties the whole nine until she ends up needing to go to midsommars or something kinda much like kie in season one her parents are making her go, so word gets around fast that she’s going because people haven’t seen her in a while and jj leaps on the opportunity to work with pope & heyward, so he can see her and obviously rafe is gonna be there regardless. she doesn’t come until late which gave rafe and jj enough time to at least come to a certain level of an agreement, she still avoids them all night staying with her parents and drifting to sarah whenever she got the opportunity. so she finally ends up going to the bathroom and they basically corner her (teamwork 🤣) and they talk to her and they both end up fucking her in the stall.

this!!!!! this is perfect. i never brought the two of them together bc i just thought it was too unlikely because they really don’t like eachother — but if they’re kinda forced together by reader giving them no other choice it seems more likely.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

jj practically jumps you in the corridor, appearing frantically infront of you in his lil waiter get up and starts dragging you to the bathroom.

“jj, no — i already told you—”

“just five minutes just — just hear me out for five minutes okay — c’mon, in you go, chop chop.” he pushes you into the bathroom before turning round and blinking at passersby who worriedly witnessed the low level kidnap. “nothin’ to see here alright just, carry on…” he excuses awkwardly before closing the door.

upon entering, to your surprise rafe is stood in the centre of the room with his hands in his pockets and lips pursed like he was forced to be there too. he perks up a little on your entry, eyeing you over. he speaks your name and you glance between the two boys nervously.

“damn, you— you look really beautiful i mean—” rafe begins as he edges towards you and you all but nearly stomp your foot, pointing to him with an angry pout.

“don’t!”

the oldest boy holds his hands up, slowing his pace as he approaches you, showing he comes in peace. “alright, alright… look we… just wanted to talk to you. ‘that okay?”

your eyes slide over to jj, who’s gazing at you with this desperate plea that makes you soften a little. you cross your arms and nod, and naturally the boys close in on you, shielding you from the rest of the room.

“trust me, okay— the last thing i wanna do is share you with rafe freaking cameron but,” the blonde runs a hand through his hair frustratedly as the cameron rolls his eyes. “you went goddamn… radio silent on us and i was worried, okay? are you seeing the level of concern you caused right now? ‘cus i’m standing next to rafe and my hands aren’t around his neck—”

“yeah like you could reach, buddy.”

“i’m like three inches shorter than you asshole i’on even wanna hear it right now ‘cus—”

“guys.” you interject sulkily, huffing a sigh out your nose.

“sorry, sorry— yes, so uh— to cut this thing short, maybe until you like, make a decision or whatever… we can alternate weeks with you?”

you gaze up at them from beneath your lashes unsurely. “like… you get me this week rafe gets me next week… and so on?”

“yeah i’m not thrilled about this guy gettin’ you at all but i’ll… i’ll take it.” rafe scuffs his shoe on the floor, uncharacteristically bashfully.

you think, and honestly as it was the best case scenario you nod, gaze flickering between the two of them.

“okay… just… want you both. missed you.” you don’t know who to look at, so you cement your stare to your shoes. there’s some shuffling of feet through the tense silence before you feel a pair of fingers gripping your jaw lightly, tilting your head up to them.

“look… why don’t you uh, why don’t you give maybank here a little kiss. alright? i’m— i’m actively showin’ you i’m cool with it.”

even jj’s brows lift in surprise, licking over his rubied lips as he watches you for permission. you let rafe’s hand drag you closer, before bringing your mouth to jj’s, locking lips. rafe’s hand switches to cup the back of your head, supposedly feeling this was the most control he could have in the situation. his eyes flutter in irritation as he watches jj slip you tongue and after a moment he pulls you back, immediately bringing your mouth to his— to kiss you sloppier and dirtier than the blonde.

jj’s eyes roll, licking over his lips once more. “jesus, dude — okay.”

you let out a pleased moan after a moment, just happy to have your favourite boys back with you, this time together — and rafe tugs you back with a smug smirk. you watch his eyes flutter up to the cubicle behind you, before his gaze moves to jj.

“get the door, yeah busboy?” he slaps jj on the back, and with his tongue in his cheek — he pushes the cubicle door open for the three of you to fit inside.

“watch it, douche.” he glares as rafe leads you in. it’s a squeeze, but it’ll do for now. the competitive nature in them both was flared up to ten, set on using this time as a way to prove themselves to you.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[ebullientheart]

the nice guy. spencer reid x reader

content — fluff. humour. fem!bau!reader. casual mention of sex. loosely based on season four episode nine. case talk. nondescript injury to reader.

you explain to spence the difference between a nice guy and a ‘nice guy’.

“i don’t understand this.”

morgan spun on his chair, “what’s that, wonder boy?”

the files he was flicking through were baffling him. each of the interview transcripts read the same sort of thing. ‘oh, he was a textbook ‘nice guy’ you know’, or something to that effect.

you were the one conducting that set of witness interviews, and the text before him showed no confusion on your part as you continued your original line of questioning. concluding this meant you understood, spencer ignored derek’s response and instead got up to find you. predictably, in garcia’s office, watching unreleased films, seeing as your paperwork was long completed.

“can i ask you something?” he interjected, causing penelope to throw popcorn at him as a consequence of her surprise.

“can you knock?” she quipped back, but he wasn’t really listening to her. spencer could become pretty single minded when he set his focus on something, especially if it was something he didn’t understand.

you excused yourself and followed him into the hall. the simple window on your right showed nothing but the clouded night sky, meaning only a few people lingered in the office now. spencer turned the light on by reaching past your head to the switch, while you tried to ignore the way your stomach felt upon having him lean over you.

clearing your throat, you addressed him, “what did ya need, spence?”

he showed you what he’d been preoccupied with, “what does this mean? we profiled our unsub as desperate, creepy, and we were right. why did they all describe him as a nice guy?”

you pondered for a moment on how best to explain it to him before you answered.

“they’re kind of being sarcastic. a textbook ‘nice guy’ is a guy who really pities himself, quotes ‘nice guys finish last’, that sort of thing. he thinks he’s so kind, and for that women owe him sex, so when they don’t meet that standard, he just believes women only like jerks. he sees himself as good, but he doesn’t comprehend why women would take offence to his sexual reward system for human decency.”

spencer frowned, “there are enough of them that women have a collective name for this?”

you nodded, “trademarked and everything.”

“really?”

“no, kidding.”

he smiled at you and you returned it, his curiosity fulfilled and his faith in humanity slightly lessened, as it was case by case.

a few days later, you were all jetting off to another police department, examining files and bouncing theories. spencer sat on your left, the only one close enough to hear the low rumble of your stomach. chuckling to himself, he produced a breakfast bar from his satchel and slid it over to you. the overjoyed expression on your face at food, and food in your favourite flavour, prompted him to remember your ‘nice guy’ conversation.

you offered him your thanks and he answered, “you’re welcome. no sex required.”

even though he was half kidding, half sincere, you gave him a whole laugh, easy and unabashed. the smile he donned was satisfied at initiating such glee from you.

as the investigation progressed, the danger became more and more apparent. the team knew someone was going to end up hurt, but it didn’t stop them from flinching as they saw you swinging your legs in the back of an ambulance, taking emergency blood supply. you rolled your eyes at their concern, “really, i’m fine guys. just a scratch.”

they weren’t so quick to dismiss your injury, but they didn’t hover. they had protocol to follow, local cops to brief, and press to alert. the only one who lingered was spencer, awkwardly sitting next to you at your invitation. he thought about wrapping an arm around your bare shoulder as a chill set in the air, but was too afraid to dislodge the tube. you bit the bullet of his worrying and leaned until he was prompted to support you.

“are you alright?” he knew it wasn’t the right thing to ask you, but he wasn’t sure what else to say in that moment, not when you were pressed against him so the warmth from your body bled through his vest to his own skin.

you gave a light shrug, but didn’t comment further, instead saying, “you’re nice, spencer. the real way.”

he hummed, “how’d you know?”

“nice guy trademark would’ve tried to kiss me by now. you’re just holding me.”

he knew what he was about to admit was a risk, but the question burned in his throat, “what if i wanted to? kiss you?”

you looked up at him and his heart skipped a beat. if he tried, he could count every one of your eyelashes, even though a few were clumped together by smudges of mascara that had congealed in your initial reaction to the wound. there was a brightness in your irises that sparked something in his chest. the hand you could move freely came up to his face, which had become flushed. you could feel the heat beneath your palm, but couldn’t make it out visually with his back to the ambulance light.

“i’d think you’re even nicer.”

he didn’t seem all that surprised, “can i?”

“please.”

[romanhughesy]

Aftertaste

quinn hughes x indie singer!fem reader

summary: quinn is dragged out to a show at a dive bar, and finds himself drawn to the lead singer...

wc: 5.3k

notes: ive seen a lot of nhl stars x pop girlie reader (a slay every time) but something about the idea of straight laced quinn x indie girl compels me..

As a professional hockey player, it was one of Quinn’s biggest gripes when people told him he only cared about hockey. Mainly because people always said it like it was a bad thing, something they were uncovering that Quinn didn’t know about himself. Something he should be ashamed of. But Quinn knew, and he wasn’t ashamed at all. Hockey was in his blood, inextricably linked with his real biggest priority. His family. Luckily, hockey and family had always gone hand in hand for Quinn. Even when hockey took him far away from everyone, even when people tried to pit him and his brothers against each other, it never strained their relationships. They all knew it was just the nature of the game. Reaching his dreams, being an impactful player, it took thick skin. All three Hughes boys had been raised with that knowledge. 

But, that didn’t mean things didn’t rattle him occasionally. Like now, sitting on a teammate’s couch, trying to savor what he thought would be a chill afternoon sprawling into a quiet evening. Until someone’s phone rang. Dakota Joshua’s girlfriend was on the line, trying to convince everyone to go out. Her friend was in a band playing that night, and ‘there was no cover, so everyone should come.’ Because a bunch of professional athletes worried about paying an entry fee. A couple guys said sure, a couple more said they had plans, and when it was more or less worked out who’d be going, a few of them turned to look at Quinn. He shook his head, not moving from his slumped lean against the back of the couch. He was tired. And comfortable. So he verbally answers, “I’m not a huge live music guy. But thanks for the invite.” 

He hadn’t expected his voice to carry through the phone, really just speaking to his teammate. But the girl on the other line must’ve heard, because she scoffed. “Is that Quinn?” her voice crackled through the speaker. “Figures. He couldn’t care less about anything that isn’t hockey!” 

Quinn could hear that she was joking, but it still stung. He didn’t even know this girl that well. Why was she looking down on him for prioritizing his job, that he was, frankly, great at? Joshua immediately came to his defense, shooting an apologetic look over his shoulder and saying, “Hey, Captain’s locked in. Can’t complain, especially with the way the season’s going.” 

The conversation shifted, and then ended altogether, but Quinn was lost in his thoughts until some of the guys who weren’t going to the bar stood up to leave. What would he do with his evening, if he did go home? Slump on his own couch, watch tape or other games on TV that evening, talk to his mom or Jack or Luke, if they were free? Those were all things he enjoyed, that brought him joy, but none of his excuses sounded good enough when the guys asked if he was sure he didn’t want to go. So, he lets himself be half-dragged into the bar, and if he’s nursing his beer on the edge of their crowded booth a bit grumpily, hopefully everyone will let it slide. The group of people was bigger than he’d anticipated for a free show at a pretty run down bar. Quinn’s not even sure this is technically a concert, as very few people are lingering anywhere near the stage, and no one seems to be paying any attention to the people tuning instruments up there. 

“So, wait, how do you even know this girl?” Quinn hears someone ask, and that brings his attention back to the situation at hand. Joshua’s girlfriend, clearly pleased to hold the attention of the table, smiles widely. 

“Oh, we went to university together! It’s been awhile since we’ve hung out, but she was always so talented. She never actually made her own music in school though, which I thought was strange. So when she mentioned joining a band, I just knew they’d be great!” 

Awesome. Quinn’s been dragged out to see an amateur musician who’s a former classmate of someone he barely knows. He might need a couple more beers to make it through this. 

“What kind of music do they play?” Someone else chimed in, apparently not as put off by the previous answer as Quinn was. 

“I’m not really sure. I think, like, indie rock? She mentioned they’d be doing a lot of covers, because they’ve just recently started playing together. She said they wanted to go ahead with gigging to work out what kind of sound they wanted for their own music, so cool!” 

Quinn was seriously impressed by this girl’s loyalty to her friend. He wouldn’t call himself a big indie rock fan, but there were way less palatable genres, so maybe he’d survive after all. He looked towards the stage, at the band tuning their instruments and checking mics, and turned back to the table with a question of his own. 

“Is she the brunette with the bass?” 

“Nope!” Joshua’s girlfriend answered, eyes bright. She obviously hadn’t expected Quinn to show any interest. “She’s not up on stage right now. But that white guitar they’re sound-checking right now is hers. I recognize it from her Instagram.” 

Quinn nodded, curiosity satisfied. Conor rose from the other side of the booth, clearly heading to the bar, so Quinn slid out too, maybe a bit overly eager to step away from the larger group. Lucky for him, they lingered by the bar even after getting their drinks, so Conor was either a mind reader, or just felt similarly. They made easy chatter, and Quinn felt some of the tension in his shoulders unwind. Before he’d even thought of rejoining their other teammates, the bar lights dimmed. Quinn hadn’t even realized it was possible to make the space any dimmer. Turning his gaze towards the stage, all the same people as before were settled with their respective instruments, leaving a gap in the middle of the stage. Quinn’s eyebrows raised. A few seconds later, the missing member quietly entered the stage, smiling bashfully. 

Quinn felt like he’d been hit over the head, and that was putting it mildly. Fiddling with an acoustic guitar, high points of her face getting kissed by a spotlight, the lead singer was maybe the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

“Hi, everyone. We don’t quite have a name, or much original music right now, but we’re gonna play some of our favorite songs for you guys tonight. Hope you enjoy.” Her voice was soft, tinged with nerves, but still warm. Quinn couldn’t look away as she adjusted her grip on her guitar one more time, and shared a glance with the bass player on her right. The band started playing, and Quinn’s breath was stolen. 

They were playing an older song Quinn vaguely recognized, quiet, soft rock. He hadn’t really ever considered someone’s singing honest before, but that’s how it felt. Clear, sincere. Just singing from the soul, like she would sound the exact same even if the room was completely empty. 

“You live your life, you go in shadows

You'll come apart and you'll go blind

Some kind of night into your darkness

Colors your eyes with what's not there”

He stood, transfixed, until Conor elbowed his arm and tilted his head towards the booth. He looked like he had some taunts ready, but spared them as the men moved through the mostly quiet room. 

Back of his neck burning, Quinn slid back into the booth. Most of the group had gone to stand by the stage, bringing the amount of people at the table to a much more manageable amount. For Quinn’s social capabilities, at least. Not that he was paying much attention to anyone at the table, eyes glued to the middle of the stage. 

The band had launched into their second song, this one apparently not requiring the singer to also play guitar.  Quinn appreciated its absence, as it gave him an unobstructed view of her. She was in a sleeveless black mini dress and calf-high boots, which should’ve been little dressed up for the dingy bar. But, she pulled it off effortlessly, hair down and catching the light as she tossed in time with the music. Quinn certainly wouldn’t call himself an expert, but he wasn’t even sure if she was wearing makeup other than some lived-in eyeliner. She looked like a girl in a 90’s movie, effortless yet put together, all at once. It was intimidating, but something about her presence was also unmistakably warm and open. Quinn couldn’t look away from how she moved with a casual grace, the way her whole body seemed to respond to the song, guiding her voice. 

“I feel naked when you look my way

You can see it on my face

You're the only reason I came here

You're the only reason I stayed here

And I'm livin' on the aftertaste

Don’t you tell me it’s too late”

Dancing along to the music was obviously shaking off a lot of her nerves, but even far from the stage, he saw the singer’s cheeks flush as the crowd applauded at the end of the song. Cute. After saddling her acoustic guitar once again, the singer leaned into the microphone. 

“This next one is one of my favorite songs. Hope you guys like it.”

“During practice she’d say that about, like, six different songs. I just have to let everyone know.” The person sitting behind a keyboard chimed in, and the singer’s shocked laughter made Quinn feel lightly carbonated. Fizzy, reactive. What was wrong with him?

“I’ve got a big heart. Anyway!” 

She led the band into the next song, and they continued to play a few more, with minimal commentary. They weren’t playing anything Quinn was familiar with, but he didn’t really mind letting the music wash over him. The band were talented, and Quinn could see people around the room who clearly did know the songs enjoying themselves, further validating his assessment. At some point, Conor disappears, and brings back new drinks for the both of them, giving him that taunting look again. This time, he delivers. 

“You know, I thought you weren’t really a live music guy? Seem to be enjoying yourself plenty.”

“Oh, shut up.” 

“What? Just making small talk. Need me to be quiet so you can focus on the music? Maybe she’ll sign your forehead at the merch table later.” 

Quinn lets out a long-suffering sigh. There’s nothing he’d change about his life, really, but he sometimes dreams of a world where he’s a scary captain that people don’t make fun of for their own entertainment. That’d show them. He settles, instead, for making fun back, like any respectable adult with younger siblings. 

“Signed a lot of autographs lately? She could probably teach you how.” 

Conor lets out a shocked sound, but their back and forth is cut off by applause echoing through the bar. 

“Thank you!” The singer is once again guitar-less, nervously fiddling with her mic stand with dainty hands that Quinn’s eyes get stuck on. They must be tough, for how deftly she plays her guitar, but they look small. Quinn buries a half-formed thought of brushing against them, holding them in his own. He’s losing it. 

“We’re gonna do a few songs with some different vibes, if that’s okay with you guys. We’re still working on pinning down what style of music we really like making as a band, so we’d love to know what you think of these. This first one is called Starling, and it’s actually an original of mine.” 

Her cheeks flush at the scattered cheers through the room, and once the song starts, Quinn understands why. The song is raw, subdued instrumentation highlighting her voice. She sings most of it with her eyes shut, but not tightly. Not fearful. She’s swaying gently, and her voice soars through the dingy bar. 

“And she says we're the lucky ones

And you know why

To meet another is a miracle, let alone you and I

You and I, you and I”

The applause at the end of the song is noticeably louder than the songs before. Quinn claps, and Conor doesn’t even make fun of him, because he’s clapping too. The lead guitar player pats the singer on the back as she takes a swig of water and visibly tries to settle her nerves. 

“Okay, that was scary! Let’s have fun now.” 

The next song is folksy and upbeat, old-fashioned. It reminds Quinn of something his parents would listen to. The band really digs into it, the audience responding in turn, and Quinn feels weirdly connected to it all. It reminds him of being on the ice, a good shift where he feels like a live wire and can anticipate the moves of all of his linemates. Everything ramps up towards the end of the song, and it’s actually Conor who’s shoving Quinn out of the booth, towards their teammates closer to the stage.

“Seems like the last few songs are fun. Let's be social.” 

Quinn lets himself be dragged, like he has all night, folding into the group. A couple of the guys seem shocked to see them, Soucy throwing a “We thought you guys bailed!” over his shoulder. Quinn shrugs, but tries to fake-nonchalantly answer before Garland. Whatever Conor might say would do him no good. 

“Nah, just hanging back at the booth. Still tired from earlier.” 

“Nice. They’re doing a good job up there. Joshua’s girl is losing her mind.” 

Quinn is too, a little, but he refuses to say that out loud. Luckily, they’re interrupted. 

“Thanks for really getting into that last one. That’s one of my favorites.” One of the other band members snickers and starts to interrupt, Quinn sees their teasing smile from where he stands. The singer cuts them off, grinning widely and continuing her sentence,

“This is our second to last song. Laugh at me if you want, but it truly is my favorite song these days. Not one of my favorites, just my favorite. This is Juna by Clairo. Let’s dance!”

He’s never heard it before, much like the rest of the set, but this song is definitely his favorite, too. It’s still playful, but has a sensuality that’s completely out of left field. Taking the microphone from the stand, the singer slinks across the small open area of the stage. Her hips sway, free hand gesturing with the music, and she looks so good Quinn almost can’t bear it. She’s singing directly to the audience, confident and present in a way he hadn’t seen from her so far. And he’d definitely been paying more attention than he’d admit to anyone. 

“You know me, you know me

And I just might know you too, know you

Come to me ready”

Joshua’s girlfriend throws her hands up when the singer looks their way, and the singer looks down at her friend with a dazzling smile, sweeping her eyes over the rest of the group. Quinn has a weird instinct to avert his eyes, or run away, but he’s too late. The singer is looking at him. Quinn swears he sees her eyes widen, just a fraction, but the moment breaks, the rhythm moving her across the stage. He spends the rest of the song— and most of the following one— in a daze. He claps when everyone else claps, lets himself be moved like the crowd moves, but he’s mostly just drinking in the singer’s appearance. Her charm, her confidence, it’s magnetic. He’d be embarrassed, but he’s definitely not the only one looking. And that makes something smolder in him, stifling and warm. 

“Thank you all so much for being here. This was actually our first show all together as a band, so it’s been very special. Enjoy the rest of the evening!” 

The audience gives one last hardy round of applause, and the band don’t bother with theatrics, unceremoniously beginning to break down all their equipment. Quinn, as per usual, lets himself be led to the bar for another round, and then back to a table. Some of the girls in the group are chatting about how much they liked the set, how they’d love to see them again, but one comment in particular lands heavy on his brain. It’s Joshua’s girlfriend, pretending to be casual when she boasts,

“I told you guys Y/N was amazing! I texted her and told her she should come hang with us for a minute when they’re all packed up. I hope she has time.” 

Conor elbows him. The little shit. Quinn gives him a withering look, but he knows at least one of the other guys had to have noticed the interaction. 

“Oh?” Dakota raises an eyebrow at him. “Interested in meeting Y/N? Didn’t really think you cared for live music, Cap. Had to drag you into the bar and all.”

Quinn visualizes the alternate universe where he’s intimidating his teammates, and decides to play dumb in real life. 

“Who? The only reason I haven’t left is because Garland keeps buying me drinks.” 

Joshua doesn’t quite buy it. 

“That’s nice of him. Means you have room for a couple drinks for Y/N on your tab, then. She was the lead singer. Seemed like you were keeping an eye on her.”

“You know, not a huge live music guy, myself, but I’ve heard when people are onstage you’re supposed to pay attention to them.” Quinn chirps, perhaps belatedly realizing getting defensive about the girl would only make things worse. The guys laugh, and the conversation moves on, so he must’ve said just enough to be let off the hook. 

Quinn lets his thoughts wander, rather than taking part in the mindless chatter. He really is tired. Everyone will tease him for leaving, but he’s been more than a good sport. He’s absolutely far surpassed his “not hockey” quota for the day. Just as he decides on getting up and telling everyone goodbye, other people around the table are standing, and some of the girls are fussing. Did someone else decide to leave before him? Even better, he can just tack onto someone else’s goodbye, slip out with even less attention on him. He gets out of his chair and realizes he’s fallen into a trap of sorts. 

In the middle of all the commotion is Dakota Joshua’s girlfriend, bragging about her friend while wrapping her in a tight hug. The lead singer. She’s clearly overwhelmed by the enthusiasm, but gives the group a genuine smile. 

“This is my boyfriend, Dakota, and these are a bunch of his teammates!” She rattles off their names, as if the singer will remember them, and Quinn feels something inside him ignite when he locks eyes with the girl again. 

“Nice to meet you guys. Thanks for coming out! So glad I didn’t realize who you all were until now. I would’ve freaked out.” The singer’s smile turns shy, and Quinn sees a couple of the guys almost visibly puff up their chests, enjoying the recognition. He is too, sure, but he hopes it’s not too obvious. 

“Big Canucks fan?” Joshua asks while slinging an arm around his girlfriend, pulling her closer. 

“Born and raised. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love a picture to send to my parents. They’re gonna lose their minds.” 

Dakota’s girlfriend is already whipping out her phone before the singer can finish her sentence, gathering everyone into the frame. Conor, ever the meddler, shoves Quinn towards the center, and he ends up right next to the girl he’s been admiring all evening. He breathes in her clean, citrusy perfume, and isn’t sure he remembers to smile for the picture, dazed. Joshua’s girlfriend looks through the photos and seems pleased, so Quinn must look normal enough.

“They came out so cute! Y/N, do you have a favorite player? If he’s here let’s get a picture of just you two!”

The singer, Y/N, he mentally corrects, stammers out an excuse, but she seems to quickly learn the lesson Quinn learned in his earliest days in the sport. Give hockey players an obvious weak point, and they’ll exploit it, on or off the ice. A few of the guys tease, lightheartedly, but still pressing for an answer. 

“Um… it’s 43. Hughes…” She’s avoiding his eye, and the guys are going wild, but Quinn hardly notices. He’s floating, mentally thanking every extra rep in the gym, every early practice, even his parents for loving the sport so much they passed it onto him. Quinn can’t help his small smirk as Joshua’s girlfriend gestures for Y/N to hand her phone over, opening the camera and telling them to get together and pose. 

Quinn takes a step closer, hovering his arm around her waist, until he finally catches Y/N’s eye. He tilts his head, wordlessly questioning. She nods and wraps her own arm behind his back, so he lets his hand settle. It’s not hard to smile for the picture when he’s pressed against her side. His guys are jeering, but he pays them no mind as Y/N is handed back her phone. Now or never, probably, Quinn thinks to himself. So he dives. 

“D’you mind sending those to me?” He asks, trying to keep his voice low amongst all the chaos of the group. He doesn’t exactly want commentary as he’s trying to shoot his shot. 

Y/N blinks up at him, and he finds her visible confusion endearing. 

“You want me to send you the pictures of us together?”

Quinn just nods. She blinks some more, brow furrowed. 

“Yeah, sure, I can. Why?” 

Quinn wishes he had some witty or charming response, but there’s something about her straightforwardness that disarms him. She doesn’t seem to realize how interested Quinn is, for better or for worse. 

“Well,” He rubs the back of his neck, “It was the most casual way I could think of to ask for your number.” 

At that, Y/N’s eyes widen, but she also smiles in a coy way that makes Quinn think he might be in over his head. 

“Oh! Well, in that case, I’d be more than happy to send you those pictures.” She hands Quinn her phone, already open to a new contact, and he takes it from her outstretched hand.

“You guys did great up there, by the way. Especially for a first show. I never would’ve guessed.”

Y/N gives him that warm, happy smile, and he melts. 

“Thank you! I haven’t performed in front of a crowd since middle school choir, so I’m honestly just proud I made it through the set at all.”

Quinn, once again, is floored. Sure, she seemed anxious at first, but he still gets visibly nervous before stepping on the ice all these years later. The idea of doing something for the very first time with so much grace makes him jealous, in a weird way. He doesn’t know how to express all that to a stranger, so he doesn’t. 

“Really? You looked at home up there.”

Y/N’s gaze softens a bit, something that wasn’t quite shyness— maybe vulnerability— creeping in. 

“That means a lot. It’s something I’ve always dreamed about, always craved. But I was too scared until really recently.”

“That’s really brave.” he responds, thrilled by her flushed cheeks and bashful smile.

“That’s funny,” Y/N says, taking a step closer, holding steady eye contact now, “I find it really brave to hold onto your childhood dreams. I never had that strength.”

Now Quinn is the one flushing. Of course, plenty of people praise his hard work, but many also say his success was handed to him. He’d never deny his good fortune; his amazing parents were certainly the foundation and entry point for his dream. But, he couldn’t have gotten to this point if it was just his parents’ dream for him. He held firm through a lot of exhaustion, pain, and uncertainty. Someone else acknowledging that makes all of the old feelings almost tangible. It’s an uncomfortable sensation for Quinn, one he doesn’t like to linger on.

“It takes a village.” He answers, trying to sound at ease. Y/N laughs.

“How diplomatic! I forget you guys get media trained.”

At that, Quinn laughs, too. He’s fascinated by the discerning sharpness that almost underscores the warmth and openness the girl projects. As if, somehow, she’s looking right through him, but she likes what she sees. He wants to see more of her, in turn. 

“You’ll need some of that too, soon enough. I bet the band’s gonna get big.”

“Let me get used to playing in dive bars first, even just thinking about anything bigger is going to give me a panic attack for the foreseeable future.”

“You don’t wanna come sing the anthem at a game?” Quinn can’t help but tease, rewarded by Y/N’s eyes going wide. 

“That honestly makes my knees weak. Do you ever get used to playing in front of all those people?”

Quinn tilts his head, considering his answer. He doesn’t want to sound full of himself, but he wants to be honest. 

“A lot of times, I’m not really thinking about the audience. I’m just focused on the ice. But, when the crowd gets really worked up, it can definitely impact the game.”

Y/N nods, brow furrowed as she thinks over his answer. 

“For better or for worse? Depends on where you are?”

“Yeah,” Quinn answers with a smile, but it’s tight around the edges. “Some places can be fun to play but not exactly welcoming.”

“That’s so interesting. I never thought about how much of the game is mental. No wonder you guys try to be so even-tempered in interviews and stuff.”

Quinn’s lips lift into a smirk. 

“You watch a lot of my interviews?”

Y/N huffs, rolling her eyes, but he sees her cheeks darken a bit.

“Oh, hush. I mean, like, whoever gets star of the game or whatever. Always giving generic answers.” 

She’s certainly not wrong. Quinn wants to keep talking, but the bass player of the band steps into the conversation, with an impish smile and hand on Y/N’s shoulder. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but Y/N, do you still want a ride? I’m about to head out.”

“Yes, please.” Y/N replies, and if Quinn wants to believe there’s a bit of reluctance in her tone, he will. She turns back to him with an apologetic smile that certainly helps his interpretation. “It was really nice meeting all of you guys. Thanks again for coming out. We’ll absolutely be bragging at every show about how the Canucks were at our very first gig.” 

“Of course,” Quinn replies. “We’ll have to get you guys out to a game soon.”

“A cultural exchange, of sorts.” The bassist chimes in with a laugh. Y/N shakes her head, but Quinn laughs along.

“Exactly! See you guys around.”

If he watches the two girls walk away, heart thudding when Y/N looks over her shoulder to wave goodbye, that’s between him… and Conor, who scurried over the second the musicians walked away to clap a hand on Quinn’s shoulder and shout something that sounded vaguely like “Attaboy!”. He must’ve had a few more rounds after the show ended. 

—

A few days later, Quinn’s just getting home from an early morning practice when his phone buzzes. He mindlessly opens the notification, not realizing it was a text from an unsaved number until he’s staring at pictures of him and Y/N, with a caption that makes the corner of his lips raise. He saves the contact, and pretends he’s not looking at the photos some more. 

From: Y/N 🎤

so… when’s the next game? :)

To: Y/N 🎤

Coincidentally, tomorrow. You guys free?

Quinn busies himself with preparing lunch, refusing to sit idle by his phone, as much as he wants to. When he sits down with his food a while later, he allows himself a glance at his messages, as a reward for his restraint. 

we don’t have to do the anthem, right?

Not this time. Just show up and have fun. As long as we get some tickets to the next gig, of course

well then… i’d love to! 

everyone else says they already have plans :(

Quinn takes a deep, calming breath, trying to summon up some courage. He thinks of Y/N, wide eyed and beautiful, calling him brave, but the image actually makes him more nervous. He shoots off a text anyway, before he can overthink it too much. 

Tough crowd. But you still wanna go? We could grab dinner or drinks after

He does a few laps around his apartment, wearing down his rug a bit more, before his phone buzzes. Quinn’s not proud of how quickly he dives back onto the couch, but at least no one is around to see. 

i was hoping you’d say that :) 

see you then!

Well, that settles that. Quinn does a few more nervous laps, suddenly feeling keyed up despite very recently finishing a grueling practice. He’s trying to mentally settle himself before he does something dumb, like tear through his closet and stare at every game day suit he has and decide he hates them all. But, he’s not quite sure where to put all the nervous energy he has. He forces himself to sit back down, thumbs moving across his phone screen. 

Need any gear? I can have someone bring you some

He doesn’t want to name the feeling that compelled him to ask. But it grows when, a few minutes later, Y/N answers. It’s another picture, but not from the other night. A mirror selfie. She’s in leggings and a Canucks jersey, facing forward but twisted just enough for Quinn to read the backwards 43 on her arm. His stomach soars, or free falls, he’s not quite sure which.

[image]

born and raised fan, remember? my parents would disown me if i showed up to a game without a jersey

He decides to play it cool, trying to slow his heart rate by joking around.  

Looks good, outdated though. Gotta get a C patch

Y/N’s response is quick, like she’d been waiting around for his reaction. Quinn tries not to think about it too hard, tries not to put too much stake into all of these little signs that a girl like Y/N is interested in him. 

🙄 not all of us have an equipment team

I’ll take care of it. See you tomorrow, Y/N

see yaaaaaa

good luck! 🍀

Quinn swears he moves through the rest of his day like normal. He goes through the motions, and he tries to pay as little attention as possible to his wandering thoughts. He’s used to fixating on hockey, trying to predict how games will go. Forecasting what will go right, and, maybe more importantly, what will go wrong. He’s built his career off of his attention to detail, his extra effort. It’s easy, and comfortable, to prepare for games with his team. As the hours go by, inching ever closer to puck drop, he can’t deny his excitement. For the opportunity to keep playing the game he loves, with his guys, for their fans. And maybe, just maybe, he also pictures Y/N, swathed in one of his jerseys with red cheeks from the cold of the rink, wearing that bright smile. He thinks about taking her on a date after the game, and how badly he wants to impress her, like she impressed him with her music. Thank goodness, he’s been working all his life to rise to the occasion when he’s out on the ice.

--

hiding a playlist/song recs in this fic bc i love u all.. songs directly referenced are fade into you by mazzy star, aftertaste by katie gavin (title inspo!), and juna by clairo! the "original song" is actually starling by sarah kinsley, and her music is GORGEOUS i highly recommend if you like indie singer/songwriter vibes.

some other artists i'd recommend you listen to ~for the vibes~:

phoebe bridgers, boygenius, mitski, fiona apple, and the newest beabadoobee album was super inspirational for this!!

if u made it this far you should send me a song rec of your own hehe