#he knew exactly what she meant too he just wasn’t risking that

[eclipsewxtch]

TWELVE EXES? whore 💀 in three years no less, slut 🏃‍➡️ he was introducing people to his parents every holiday, labour's day and he was there "ma I swear this one's the one🥰" help 😭 his parents must be so tired of his ass

vance when they said they wanted you to make them breathless it wasn't that what they mean... robin don't hook up at all?? damn 🙏🫥

oh no he didn’t introduce them to HIS parents, but he consistently got introduced to theirs😭 he was nottt bringing them home to his ma he knew deep in his heart of hearts that would not be a good idea😭

[ithebookhoarder]

Never Let You Go (Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader)

Description: Being married to Aaron (A.K.A. your boss and the love of your life) has both it advantages and disadvantages - and being reprimanded by him for risking your neck in the field is definitely one of the latter... 💔

A/N: Hi everyone. I'm alive! Sorry that this is so short but it sort of just wrote itself and was a nice way to help try and ease me back into writing again as it's been a hot minute here 😅

Warnings: Angsty Hotch, arguing, mentions of threat, mentions of weapons, implied murder, references to abduction, sexual references, implied cases / unsubs. (Let me know if I missed any)

Masterlist

You knew when Aaron was angry. You knew the signs very well this far into your relationship, not only as a fellow member of the BAU but also as his wife. He didn’t even need to voice it for you to notice it, rolling off of him in waves… and unfortunately for you, you knew exactly what had caused it. 

You hadn’t meant to throw yourself into the proverbial frying pan, but when the Unsub you had been tracking had grabbed an innocent girl as a hostage you had simply acted without thinking. You had offered yourself instead, knowing your value meant he would not dispose of you as quickly as the others he had taken - and that your team would have to let him leave the parking lot you had chased him to. He knew it too, which was why he had quickly accepted, resulting in you being hauled into a van with a gun pressed against your head. 

Of course, the team had done exactly what you’d expected and located you within an hour. They had mounted a rescue and you had been safely back, unharmed, within mere minutes of the team arriving outside of the cabin. 

All in all, it was a win in your book… but not in your husband / boss’s.  

He had been the first through the door, intent on getting to you whilst Morgan tackled the Unsub into handcuffs. He had quickly cut you free, checked you weren’t seriously hurt, and escorted you back outside, tucked securely under his arm. However, the second you had made it back to the cars, Aaron had pulled away and hidden behind a mask of white hot fury. 

His silent temper had only got worse since you’d all got off the plane, with a thick and suffocating silence filling the car on the drive back. Everyone looked at one another anxiously, knowing better than to risk being the one to say anything and accidentally cause him to erupt in their direction. In fact, a minor miracle had occurred with Spencer not saying a single word until the whole team had spilled out of the elevator, even if it looked like it had caused him physical pain to do so. 

Hell, even Penelope had taken one look at everyone’s faces and done an immediate u-turn back to her lair, muttering she would ‘come back later’.

Unfortunately, you didn’t really have that option when Aaron was your husband and you both shared a car and a house… which was why you had watched as the others grabbed their belongings and finished debriefing, leaving their case files on Hotch’s desk for him to review on Monday. You’d followed along, the last to enter his office and leave your own on the top of the pile. 

However, your fingers had barely let go of the manilla envelope when you heard Hotch clear his throat, turning his attention squarely to the last two agents stood next to you. 

“Good work, everyone. Morgan, Prentiss, you can go. Have a good weekend - Y/N, stay where you are. We need to talk.” 

Shit. 

Your husband’s tone was calm but icy, telling you that this wasn’t up for debate; it was an order and god help anyone who went against him. It was why Emily and Derek made for the door without another word, although Emily shot you a final look over her shoulder, as if checking you were alright. 

You nodded subtly, trying to reassure her as she and Derek made their way out the door, closing it behind them. You knew without asking that the rest of the team would be watching from down in the bullpen, trying and failing to work out what was being said as Hotch ripped you a new one.  

Taking a deep breath, you crossed your arms over your chest and turned to face him. 

You hated seeing his beautiful face so hard and devoid of feeling. It was like a whole different man to the one who slept beside you every night, and greeted you first thing every morning. 

You gulped.

A cold sweat had formed on the back of your neck as he stepped closer slowly, deliberately dragging out the tension. You had to fight the urge to break off the staring contest between you, refusing to surrender to him just yet. It was probably why you opened your mouth first, desperate to beat him to the punch in case you lost your nerve. 

“Before you say anything, I know what you’re going to say, and I know what I did was dangerous and went against your orders,” you rambled, “I’m also well aware of the consequences and I won’t apologise for what I did, not when the option was risking that young girl and the rest of the team-“ 

“I am your superior here, Y/N. What I say goes. That is not up for debate, ever. You do not give me orders,” Aaron seethed, making you fall silent without even raising his voice - which somehow made it worse. It was as if your guilt was swallowing you whole. “What happened today will not happen again, am I understood? You do not ignore my orders whenever you feel like it, nor do you get to lecture me about why you did what you did. And above all? You never tell me to let you go, unarmed and alone, ever again. Is that clear?” 

Your eyes were glued to the floor, wishing silently for it to swallow you up.

“You know I was doing what anyone else on this team would’ve done. He had an innocent girl, Aaron, and he was cornered,” you countered. “He would have killed her the second he left the parking lot, or opened fire then and there. It was the only way to get him out of there, without risking the team and everyone in that area-“

“As the head of this team, I did what I would’ve done if anyone else had been in that position - which is tell you not to risk yourself - but as your husband,” he choked, “I cannot even begin to describe what I felt when he had that gun pointed at your head and that van door closed.” 

You gulped. You felt his pain drawing you in like a gravitational pull, making you desperate to reach out and soothe it from his brow.

“Aaron… You know I didn’t do this to hurt you,” you cooed. To your relief, he nodded, wrapping an arm around your waist and curling you into his chest as if needing to feel you were actually stood there in front of him.  

“It might surprise you to realise that I do know that. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make any of this easier.” You could feel the tension physically radiating off of him as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I… I thought I’d lost you. I... I can't lose you... I won't lose you or someone I love. Not again.”

“I know. I’m so sorry… I’m right here, my love. I’m right here… Always.”

[theemporium]

Hi,

I’d like to order a violet fluff with Carlos and number 19. I really like your cocktail bar idea! No worries if it’s not possible ☺��

Bye, have a nice Sunday!

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

19. "If the Gods choose to only give us daughters, then I will gladly have as many as you are willing to give me."

.

Logically, you knew he wouldn’t be angry but somewhere in the pregnancy hormones and lingering doubts, you found yourself spiralling. 

If there was one thing Carlos hated, it was that he couldn’t be with you twenty-four/seven for the duration of your pregnancy. He was over the moon to start this new chapter with you, even if it was a little earlier than either of you anticipated. He was excited to start a family with the love of his life. He had been so happy when you had originally told him during the winter break, so lost in the giddiness of it all that it took a few weeks before he realised he would be away from you for a majority of the pregnancy with the upcoming season. 

You had flown out for a few, but Carlos didn’t like stressing you out unnecessarily. His overprotectiveness reached new levels and a busy paddock wasn’t exactly ideal during the first trimester when everything was still delicate and a secret to everyone outside your immediate families. And then, as the pregnancy continued, it didn’t seem worth the risk just to fly out for a race weekend when he would be too busy working to really be with you. 

But it meant he missed important moments. He missed appointments and ultrasounds and milestones. He tried to be there for as many as he could, but it just wasn’t always possible with his busy schedule. 

And one of those moments was the gender. The two of you had decided you had wanted to find out before the baby arrived. And despite your insistence that you would wait for Carlos, he encouraged you to find out at the earliest possible moment.

And you were happy when you found out you were having a girl. You were over the fucking moon. 

But there was a voice in the back of your head, persistent and annoying and unnerving. And it didn’t leave you alone in the days following your appointment until Carlos had returned from the latest race. In all honesty, somewhere between pestering thoughts and baby brain, you had forgotten he was even coming home that night. 

“Mi amor?” 

You froze, sat on the edge of the bathtub with the latest ultrasound in your hand. You don’t even remember why you were in the bathroom, it had just happened and now Carlos was seconds away from walking in and you just weren’t ready to face the disappointment on his face.

“Amor? Where are—”

The door to the bathroom opened and you lifted your head to find Carlos smiling at you. He wasted no time in walking towards you, his hands cupping the back of your head as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Hm, I’ve missed you,” he murmured the words against your skin before he glanced down at the small picture in your hands and let out a noise of excitement. “How’s our baby chilli?” 

Your throat closed up and blood was roaring in your ears, with the voice on a twisted loop in the back of your mind. But you also knew you couldn’t hide it any longer.

“She’s all good and healthy,” you managed to mutter out, watching his face closely. 

You barely blinked before the sight of Carlos’ huge smile made your chest tighten. 

“Princess baby chilli,” he murmured affectionately, his voice thick with emotion as he kneeled in front of you, his hands reaching out to gently cup your belly. “Mi princesa perfecta.”

“You’re happy?” 

Carlos looked up at you, his brows raised. “Are you…not?” 

“No, no, I am. I–” you choked by the words, feeling a sudden and overwhelming wave of emotion hit you. “I was scared.”

Carlos frowned, his demeanour changing as he straightened his spine. “Scared of what?” 

“That you would be upset we weren’t having a boy.” you admitted, a little ashamed but more so relieved to finally get the admission off your chest after it had been haunting you for the last few days. “That you would have wanted a mini you who could—”

“Hey, shhhh,” Carlos cooed softly, his hands cupping your face to wipe away a few stray tears you hadn’t realised had started to fall. “Baby, no. I would be happy with whatever we were having. If the Gods choose to only give us daughters, then I will gladly have as many as you are willing to give me."

“You mean it?” 

“I mean it,” he whispered with a soft smile before he leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips, and then another to your stomach. “Plus, I always thought I gave girl dad energy.”

You snorted, despite yourself. But the sound made Carlos grin wider. 

“I can’t wait to meet our girl,” Carlos continued, his hands lightly squeezing your thighs before he stood up, offering his hand. “Now, c’mon. I’m going to make us dinner, whatever my girls want.”

You smiled. “Whatever we want?” 

“Whatever you want,” he confirmed with a nod. “My princesses deserve only the best and that is all I’m willing to give you both.”

“You sap.”

“Always, mi amor. Always for you.”

.

[eretzyisrael]

by POTKIN AZARMEHR

‘Pro-Palestine’ protests have become a near-weekly occurrence across Britain. Since Hamas’s 7 October massacre, regular marches have been drawing in a growing number of young people, marked by passionate advocacy and fervent slogans. Yet despite their zeal, many of these protesters lack a fundamental understanding of the conflict they are so vociferously decrying.

In the past six months, I have attended many of these marches. Having engaged with numerous protesters, I have noticed a startling disconnect between their strong opinions on the Gaza conflict and their shaky grasp of basic facts about it. Among the most perplexing are the LGBT and feminist groups (the ‘Queers for Palestine’ types) who flirt with justifying Hamas’s atrocities. This is a bewildering alliance, given that Hamas’s Islamist ideology is clearly antithetical to the rights and values these groups claim to champion. Its reactionary agenda is profoundly hostile to women’s rights and LGBT individuals.

Protesters seem eager to make excuses for Hamas, but are conspicuously uninformed about exactly what or who this terrorist group represents. On 18 May, during a protest at Piccadilly Circus in London, I spoke to demonstrators who firmly believed that Hamas represents all Palestinians. When I questioned a well-educated participant about the last Palestinian election, she was unaware that none had occurred since 2006, when Hamas gained power in Gaza.

It wasn’t just young people who were uninformed. An older woman with an American accent, seemingly a veteran protester, admitted she knew that Hamas was linked to the Muslim Brotherhood, but had no deeper knowledge of its ideology or history. Others, such as members of revolutionary socialist groups, displayed similar gaps in understanding, unaware of critical events like the 1979 Iranian Revolution.

That revolution gave birth to the Islamic Republic of Iran, a theocratic regime that brutally oppresses its own citizens. It also sponsors Islamist groups like Hamas. I left Iran for the UK not long after that regime began and have spent years resisting its religious extremism and ruthless political intolerance. Protesters were not only unaware of these facts about the Iranian regime, but also ill-informed about the struggle against it, such as the ‘Woman, Life, Freedom’ protests against the government that began in 2022.

One particularly telling conversation involved a man advocating for a ‘Global Intifada’ to replace capitalism with socialism. When asked about successful socialist models, he was unfamiliar with the Israeli kibbutzim, one of history’s few successful egalitarian experiments. His ignorance of these communal settlements in Israel, built by socialist Jewish immigrants, was all too typical.

Perhaps the most telling moment was captured by commentator Konstantin Kisin earlier this year, when he encountered a young man holding a ‘Socialist Intifada’ placard. The protester admitted he had no idea what this meant and that he had taken the sign simply because it was handed to him.

Reflecting on past movements, such as the American anti-Vietnam War protests of the 1960s and the British Anti-Apartheid Movement of the 1980s, one can’t help but note a stark contrast. Protesters then were generally well-informed about their causes. Today’s pro-Palestine protests, however, seem to be driven more by unthinking fervour than by an understanding of the issues at hand.

Throughout all these protests, I am yet to encounter a single participant who condemns Hamas or carries a placard denouncing its terrorism. This not only undermines the protesters’ cause, but also risks aligning them with groups whose values fundamentally oppose the very rights and freedoms they claim to support. It appears that today’s young protesters are high on ideology, but woefully thin on facts.

Potkin Azarmehr is an Iranian activist and journalist who left Iran for the UK after the revolution of 1979.

[httpvomitello]

Shell of Trust *⁠.⁠✧

Donatello had always prided himself on being observant. He noticed the little things—the way people hesitated, the subtle changes in tone, the details others often overlooked. It was part of what made him such a good problem solver, and right now, the puzzle in question was you.

You’d been part of their lives for months now, introduced as April’s best friend. Sweet, kind, and intelligent, you’d fit in with the group almost seamlessly. But there were walls you kept up, things you didn’t share, and the most glaring of all: your reluctance to let them come over to your home.

Donnie wasn’t one to pry, but the more time he spent with you, the more he found himself wanting to know what was behind those walls. It wasn’t just curiosity—it was something deeper. He admired you, more than he cared to admit, and your quiet strength had a way of captivating him.

So when you’d canceled plans for the third time that week, claiming something had come up, Donnie couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Against his better judgment, he decided to stop by your place. He told himself it was just to make sure you were okay, but deep down, he knew there was more to it.

It was late when he arrived, the soft glow of your living room lights spilling out through the window. Donnie climbed onto the fire escape, careful not to make a sound as he peered inside.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

There, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was a little girl. She was playing with a set of blocks, her face scrunched up in concentration. Her resemblance to you was unmistakable, from the curve of her nose to the way her hair fell in soft waves.

Donnie’s breath hitched.

Before he could process the revelation, the little girl looked up—and screamed.

“Mommy, there's someone at the window!”

Donnie backed away from the window, panic rising in his chest. He hadn’t meant to scare her. A moment later, the window swung open, and you looked outside, your expression a mix of shock and seriousness.

“Donnie?”

“Uh… hi,” he said sheepishly, raising a hand in an awkward wave.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice laced with worry.

“I—I wanted to check on you,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to scare her. I didn’t know—”

“That I have a daughter?” you finished for him, crossing your arms.

He nodded, his gaze flickering toward the window where the little girl was peeking out cautiously. “Yeah. That.”

You sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice soft. “Why didn’t you tell any of us?”

You hesitated, glancing back at the window before stepping outside and closing the door behind you. “Because it’s complicated, Donnie. People judge me because of that. They assume things, say things… I didn’t want you guys to see me like that.”

Donnie frowned. “You really think we’d do that?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I couldn’t take the chance. Maya’s been through enough, and so have I. I couldn’t risk you rejecting her—or me.”

He took a step closer, his expression earnest. “I could never reject you. Either of you.”

Your eyes met his, uncertainty flickering in them. “You say that now, but you don’t know the whole story.”

“Then tell me,” he urged gently.

You hesitated, but the sincerity in his voice broke down some of your walls. “Her dad… he left when I told him I was pregnant. Said he wasn’t ready to be a father and walked away, a few months later I found out he was cheating on me and his mistress was also pregnant.. Since then, it’s just been me and Maya. And let’s just say people haven’t exactly been kind about it.”

Donnie’s eyes became more serious. “That’s… awful.”

You gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, it is what it is. I’ve gotten used to people looking at me like I’ve failed somehow. I didn’t want you guys to look at me that way, too.”

“I don’t,” he said firmly. “And I never will. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, and from what I can see, you’re an incredible mom.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, blinking back tears. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not just saying it,” he insisted. “It’s the truth. And Maya… she’s lucky to have you.”

You let out a shaky laugh, finally meeting his gaze again. “You’re really something, you know that?”

He smiled softly. “I could say the same about you.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the tension easing into something quieter, more intimate. Finally, you broke the silence.

“Do you want to come inside?” you asked.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Maya’s probably still a little scared, but… I think it’s time she met one of my friends.”

He followed you inside, his movements careful and deliberate. Maya was still on the floor, clutching her stuffed rabbit tightly. When she saw him, her eyes widened, but she didn’t scream this time.

“Hi,” Donnie said gently, crouching down to her level. “I’m Donatello. You can call me Donnie if you want.”

She didn’t respond, her grip on the rabbit tightening.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” you said softly, kneeling beside her. “He’s a friend. Remember how I told you about Mommy’s special friends? Donnie’s one of them.”

Maya glanced at you, then back at Donnie. After a long pause, she whispered, “You’re really tall.”

Donnie chuckled, relief washing over him. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Your heart warmed at the sight of him interacting with her so gently.

As the evening went on, you found yourself smiling more, watching Donnie carefully build a tower of blocks with Maya. He was patient and kind, never once making her feel uncomfortable.

Maybe, just maybe, you had found someone you could trust—not just with your heart, but with hers, too.

[brooooswriting]

could you write Leighton Murray having big panics attacks.

She has a lots of problems on top of being terrified of coming out so one day when she's in maths or something. She feels disconnected from herself and goes into a panic attack ♡

Hurt comfort angst

I got you

You didn’t know Leighton all too well, you were in the same math class and shared some other classes. In addition to that, you knew Kimberly from Econ which meant that you saw her every now and then. At some point you had to do some assignment together in math and ever since then you’ve been sitting next to each other. But believe it or not, Leighton wasn’t really someone who talked a lot about her private life. Plus she was actually a really good student, always on top of everything, following the lecture, and she solved most problems Before Most of the others even understood the question.

That was exactly why you were so confused when the blonde came in late, dark bags under her eyes and she was clearly unfocused. Your Supposition was Confirmed when the prof called her out but she only stared ahead. You felt her leg shake against yours and you could see her eyes stare ahead. As someone who could also deal with being anxious you knew these symptoms. While you knew how hard it could be to do anything during those moments you didn’t want her to loose her high standards in this class. So you carefully slid your iPad towards her and pinched her side. She jumped slightly, her head slowly turning to you before you Inconspicuously pointed to the solution.

“That’s right Leighton” the prof ignored the woman’s weird behavior. You guessed that it was since she was normally on top of the class.

“You good?” You asked the blonde as her leg shook harder but you didn’t get an answer. Your eyes switched between the clock and the girl as you tried to figure out what to do. There was class for another half an hour and pulling her out would be weird but you knew how bad these things could get. When you felt her breath speed up you started to panic too. You searched through your bag to find anything that might help.

To your surprise you even found two things that could help. You pulled out your ice cold water and pressed it to her leg which slowly pulled her back before taking out two tissues and scrunching them up against your nose. Your head went back up and your hand shot up. “Yes Mrs. Y/l/n?”

“I’m sorry my nose is bleeding, may I go to the restrooms?” You asked, your other hand still pushing the bottle against Leightons leg. When the prof nodded you added, “Is it okay if Mrs. Murray joins me? I may need another hand” he again nodded and you grabbed the blondes hand to pull her out of the room. Once the door closed you made sure to get her to fresh air behind the building. It was rather secluded so nobody would see her.

“Can you breathe for me Leighton? You’re going into a panic attack darling” you took her hand and placed it on your chest so she could feel you breathe and copy it. It worked a bit as she started to calm down. “Is it okay if I hug you?” You questioned gently, making sure to give her the space to deny.

As soon as she gave you the okay you hugged her. She relaxed into you, her breath slowing down and her leg stopped shaking. “Do you wanna talk about what scared you that bad?” Your voice was soft, something that Leighton always appreciated about you.

“I don’t know” she hesitated, life was being really hard on her at the moment and even though she was pretty sure that you weren’t going to judge she wasn’t sure if she wanted to risk it. You stayed silent, your hand rubbing over her arm to signal her that you were there for her. “I… I am gay” she just busted out, avoiding any eye contact she could have with you.

Which was bad cause she didn't see the smile forming on your lips. Truth be told, you already had a guess that she was as you saw her check you out several times but you didn't know anything for sure. And as someone who was gay themself you knew how hard coming out could be. “Leighton, that is great. Is this what stressed you out so badly?” you asked, looking down at her.

“Yes… and no. It's also Nico who cheated on Maya his long-time girlfriend with Kimberly and broke both their hearts and my stupid community service at the women's center and the whole Kappa thing. It's just I always thought college life was this easy and chill life but it's kinda crushing me at the moment” she explained as she played with the rings on her hand. You chuckled lightly when she was done explaining which made her glare at you.

“Maybe college life isn't easy because you let everybody else decide over your life,” you said, keeping your advice short hoping that she'd explain it to herself but the look she gave you was a clear no. “Why is the thing with Nico stressing you out?”

“Because he hurt Kimberly… and everybody tells me that that was really bad of him and shit but like, I'm not him. I can't do anything about it” She sighed and her shoulders slumped even further.

“Exactly. You can't do anything about it; you didn't know. So don't let that stress you out; instead, focus on helping Kimberly and Maya” She gave you a nod, and you could see that she was still thinking about what you just said. “So why kappa?” you continued.

“Well, my mom was in it, and it is obviously the first step to a particular lifestyle. It's necessary, and I don't want to disappoint my mom.” you nodded along as she talked, acting as if you understood the whole kappa and lifestyle thing.

“Leighton, kappa should be happy to have someone like you. Someone as lovely and caring is hard to find, and if you're just yourself, I can't think of a reason why they wouldn't take you. But if, for some absurd reason, they don't want you, your mom wouldn't be disappointed or mad. She'd love you the same,” you reassured her. The blonde didn't immediately answer; instead, she just stared at her shoes; it was evident that she was dissociating again. You took the cold water bottle out of your bag again, but this time, you opened it and carefully put it in her hand, urging her to drink something as tears brimmed her eyes.

Once she was back with you, you decided just to cut the topic that was probably scarring her the most. “And what makes you so scared to come out?” you questioned, shaking your head when she tried to give you back the bottle.

“I… I like myself. I don't want it to change how people see me and how I act. People will immediately treat me differently and I don't want that!” she explained and you understood where she was coming from. Being treated differently was also what used to scare you.

“I get that. I used to feel the same way, but I realized it can only affect my image and how people see me if I let it. I came out by making out with a girl at a frat party, and from then on, I was incredibly persistent in acting the same. If people wanted to talk about my sexuality, we could, but I made sure that we did it once, and then the topic was done. And you have such a great personality and style that I don't think this could change you.” You grinned at her and nudged her shoulder with yours making her smile at you

“Thank you, you're good at this, and you're so much more understanding than…” she hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should tell you that she's been seeing someone. “Than Alicia” she finished, watching your eyebrows raise and your face fall a bit.

“Alicia, like women's center Alicia?” you asked, nodding when she gave you a yes. “That's... Unexpected.” You had to keep your face in check as your heart broke over the fact that she had a girlfriend.

“Yeah, I know. And for someone who works at a women's center, she's really bad at this, she keeps trying to get me to come out” the blonde asked as she turned to you. Your face turned into an annoyed and angry one at what she just said.

“Don't ever let anyone pressure you into coming out. That's literally the worst thing one can do, and I hope she knows that. You come out when you are ready, not when she wants you to, okay?” you had your hands on her shoulders, ensuring she was listening to you.

“ But if it really hurts her when I'm closeted?”

“Then she shouldn't have committed to this relationship, Leighton. You deserve someone who supports and loves you unconditionally, and honestly, I don't think that Alicia is that person. But I'm here for you if you believe she is.” This time, you avoided eye contact, missing the blonde's heart eyes. She just leaned back into you until you could see her eyes close due to exhaustion.

You smiled slightly before nudging her. “Come on, I'll walk you back to your dorm. You should rest a bit. Panic attacks can be quiet exhausting.” you pulled her up by her hand and grabbed her bag. You took the emptiest road back to her dorm as she looked less styled than usual and you didn't want any rumors.

“Thank you for everything, y/n,” Leighton said as she leaned against the doorway. She didn't want to part ways, but she was too tired to ask you to come inside. The smile you sent her made her heart flutter a bit shocking herself.

“No problem. Here, give me your phone.” She handed you her phone and you quickly typed in your number, saving yourself with a 💕 behind it. You couldn’t wait for Alicia to see your name in her girls phone. “Now go to sleep okay? Text me when you’re awake so I can check up on you” you hugged her and put her bag down in the living room before exiting.

You couldn’t wait for the next couple of days to unfold, getting the girl of your dreams and finally getting back at someone who clearly deserved it.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Commission for the AMAZINGLY patient @i-likebread . Thank you so much for such a fun idea and again, for your patience during my summer writing dry spell. ^_^

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader, Yuji Itadori x Reader

Summary: At the end of the day, curses were trophic beings. Sukuna? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed. Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. The prey.

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

CW: Dub-Con, Non-Con, Rape by Deception, Cuckholding, Rough Sex, Virginity Loss, Painful Virginity Loss, Manipulation, mentions of Ero-Guro

If you're interested in getting your own Commission done, please refer to my Commission Sheet and shoot me a DM or e-mail! ^_^

Cross-Posted on AO3.

Everyone had told Yuji Itadori that it was a bad idea. A very bad idea. After all, just dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer at all came with its fair share of risks. Dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer while sharing a body with the King of Curses? It should’ve rendered him completely celibate. But to go beyond that, to not only date, but to date a normal, powerless girl with absolutely no knowledge of the existence of Jujutsu society and curses?

Now that was downright stupid.

Those were Gojo’s words too! Satoru Gojo’s — the stupid idea savant! That had certainly gotten Yuji to second guess things. When he left to meet her for their first official date, he’d gone there with all the intentions of breaking things off. But then…

Well, there wasn’t any big revelation. She’d just been her. And he just couldn’t let her go. There were very few moments in his life these days that were able to be just sweet and simple. So any he could have, he knew that he had to cling to, and cling to tight. And moments spent with her? They made him feel like life would never be complicated again.

So six months later, here they were at the matsuri of a temple near her school. And boy, watching her knelt over the shateki stall, silly little tongue sticking out of her mouth as she concentrated so deeply on the balloon she was aiming at, could he not regret it any less. Especially not when she looked so damn cute in that yukata.

POP!

 “I got it!” she jumped back from the carnival game with a squeal, accidentally knocking Yuji in the chest with the pellet gun.

“Oomf—!”

She gasped, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” and rushed forward to check his chest, almost hitting him in the face this time, “Are you hurt?!”

He was able to anticipate it this time though, catching the muzzle of the rifle in his palm with a laugh, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s just put this down, alright?”

She relinquished it immediately, bringing her hands to her face to try and cover her blush as she nodded frantically. The moment had finally caught up to her, the fact that she’d almost taken him out twice with the toy rifle and got completely in his face, touching his chest. And the cutest embarrassment came along with it. 

That was one of the things he really liked about her. She was shy and soft-spoken, but that didn’t stop her from ever living or hiding her true feelings when push came to shove. Especially when they involved other people. She often got ahead of herself, feet moving before her brain, throwing manners out the window if it meant helping somebody in need, blurting out the silliest little nonsensicals to try to ease an awkward silence. But never failing to revert back to that shyness and feel embarrassed about it in a way that always brought a smile to his face.

“Your prize, Miss.”

They both turned back to the game-tender, and Yuji instantly froze when he saw the prize being handed to her.

A little yarn doll, just big enough to be a keychain, and it— holy shit, it looked like—

“Aww, look at him Yuji!” she beamed, holding the doll up next to his face, “It looks just like you!”

He could feel his heart freeze with dread, his stomach twisting.

“W-What are you talking about?! No it doesn’t! It’s got tattoos!”

“Yeah. And four arms,” she rolled her eyes, “But look! It’s got your hair and eyes and that mischievous little smirk,” she wiggled it closer to his cheek, “That’s all troublemaker. All Yuji Itadori.” 

He swatted the little doll away from his face, growing more and more prickly the longer she held it so close to him, “Is not!”

She giggled, taking his whining as embarrassment over being teased rather than anything serious,and pulled the doll back to clutch into her own palms lovingly.

“And it’s cute…” she blushed a little as she whispered, “...just like you.”

Yuji softened at the sight. 

He needed to take it easy. It’s not like she could know the history there, the thing it actually looked like — he’d made absolute sure that she hadn’t, after all.

But still, the question remained:

“What’s it supposed to be anyway?” he asked, “A mascot or something?”

He had to know, it was just uncanny how much it looked like Sukuna. And this temple didn’t have any ties to the Jujutsu world that he knew of. Not that he knew a lot. But he hadn’t seen any sorcerers or cursed energy residuals in the area. If anything, it was weird how few curses — even flyheads — were in this area, considering how old the temple was.

“I guess it’s the guardian spirit of this temple,” she answered.

Yuji’s eyes widened. No. No, there was no freaking way.

“This thing?” he pressed in disbelief, “But he— I mean it looks more like a demon than a guardian spirit.”

“That’s kind of the interesting thing!” she explained excitedly, “My homeroom teacher was telling us about it last week. I think the story goes, that in a war between spirits and humans, the peasants this temple served were constantly caught in the crossfire. That is, until a dedicated, benevolent demon came along and vowed to protect the temple even while the rest of the world burnt around it.”

She presented the doll to him, “This little guy is that demon.”

It was all Yuji could do to not roll his eyes at her. Okay. Now he knew it was just a coincidence. Because sure. Benevolent. That’s what Sukuna was. 

What a bunch of crap.

Oi. Sukuna suddenly gruffed in his head. I’m plenty fucking benevolent. 

Yuji went rigid. Sukuna didn’t talk to him often. And honestly, he preferred it that way. He could nap and plot and flit away the time however he did in his own soul, while Yuji enjoyed the life surrounding his. Rarely did he actually tune in and observe Yuji’s life unless there was a battle or an… opportunity at hand.

So the fact that he seemed to be paying attention now was more than a bit worrying. 

What, you gonna tell me that the story is true or something? Yuji snapped right back at his squatter bodymate. That you actually protected a temple?

Could be.

Yuji’s breath hitched.

O-Oh yeah? he demanded, trying to not reveal his wavering confidence. And what was the catch? There’s no way you were some guardian out of the goodness of your heart.

He could practically hear Sukuna smirk inside his head and it unnerved him. Sukuna was privy to all kinds of information about curses and Jujutsu that Yuji learned at school, a lot of which even involved the King of Curses himself. Yet he hardly had anything to comment on then. So why was he so damn talkative about this story?

I protected the shrine… Never said shit about the people in it. And then that horrible, raucous laughter of Sukuna’s echoed in his head.

“Shut up!”

“Huh?”

Yuji snapped back to his girlfriend, who stared back at him with wide, confused eyes. Shit. He said that outloud, didn’t he?

“Sh-Shut up— no way they’ve got fluffy ice!” he tried to save, pointing past her to a nearby stall, “We gotta get some!”

She looked behind her, following his finger, and then laughed, relieved that it was something as simple as that rather than something she might have said, “I swear, all you ever think about is food, Yuji.”

“That’s not true… I think about you a lot.”

…is what Yuji would’ve said if he were smoother, more confident, and convinced that a line like that wouldn’t send her running for the hills. But of course, he wasn’t any of those things. So he just rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish laugh and nodded when she suggested they go get in line for some.

He wanted to just enjoy the night, to forget about curses and Jujutsu and most of all Sukuna — he practically dared the curse to make another fucking remark, to get all of his unwelcome commentary out now while he could. But the inside of his head had gone, thankfully, radio silent. So he made peace with the fact that Sukuna had gotten bored with all of this and had gone back into his own soul to sleep.

But no. Sukuna was not gone, nor bored. Far from it.

He was hungry.

Sukuna watched Yuji’s little girlfriend through his host’s eyes.

He’d excused himself to go use the restroom soon after they’d gotten their fluffy ice to split, and now he’d just stopped to watch her, sitting on a bench near the edge of the temple, the mouth of the forest, and enjoying her frozen treat with childish glee. The lovestruck fool was living in the moment, watching her with a heart full of warmth and just wanting to take it all in.

For Sukuna however, his stare was full of a hunger growing more and more ravenous with every second.

Of course she looked delicious at all times.  In her school uniform (girl’s uniforms were one of the few innovations of this era he could fully get behind), in her gym clothes the times she and Yuji went jogging together. Even that little floral sundress number she’d worn on their last date had really gotten his motor going. She was just a gorgeous little thing, and exactly his type.

Sickeningly sweet and salaciously stupid.

 But there was something about her right now, dolled up in a snow white yukata, walking under the warm glow of the traditional lanterns, down the path of a temple he once called home — she looked like she could have existed just like this, a thousand years ago. That she could’ve encountered him when he was at the height of his power, looking just like this.

It took everything in him not to utter “Extension” and tear her to pieces in front of every pair of prying eyes right here on this stone path. 

But no. He had to control himself.

He had to plan his moves carefully, he couldn’t just cause havoc willy-nilly, not without raising an unignorable alarm for the Jujutsu Sorcerers to put Yuji Itadori and himself down like Old Yeller. No, now was not the time to rape and pillage and have his fun.

It didn’t mean he was happy about it, though.

Somehow, there was something even worse about not being able to have his way in this form then it had been when his soul was fractured for a thousand years. At least before he’d manifested, he was held back by the fact that it was impossible to do anything else — he literally couldn’t have physically let loose even if he wanted to. He was essentially stuck in purgatory.

But now, when he had the full ability to ravage but had to keep himself in check, with only himself and his self-preservation to answer to? God, it practically fucking burned. It wasn’t right. If he didn’t get some kind of outlet soon, he was going to go crazy. 

It was like he was a dog, kept chained and locked up within the cage of his own skin. But that’s not what he was. He wasn’t a fucking housepet. He was a hunter, a predator.

And a damned good one at that.

There was a huge difference between other Curses and Sukuna. The sorcerers had decided to define this difference by grades. But Sukuna believed that the real explanation was much less academic, much more simple.

After all, just because a curse was “Special Grade” didn’t mean that it was worth a damn. It could have all the cursed energy in the world, but if it didn’t know how to properly hunt? It’d be lucky to last a century. 

They were trophic beings at the end of the day.

Low-level Curses, like flyheads? They were, at best, Primary Consumers. If he were being blunt, most of them were Producers, barely above algae. They tended to draw in more Jujutsu Sorcerers than they were worth. Sitting fucking ducks.

That waste of space from the Juvenile Detention Center? A Secondary Consumer. He could pick off the herbivores that were humans. Injured zebras falling behind the herd like his host and the little girl with the hammer.

And the little patchwork punk? The one that dared to put his pathetic mitts on his soul twice? Sukuna would be generous and call him a Tertiary Consumer. He sure did give that Seven to Three Sorcerer and his host a run for their money.

But Sukuna, himself? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed.

Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. 

The prey.

…

Okay, so maybe she was some low-hanging fruit, but it’s not like he could be too choosy. And boy was she ripe for the picking.

Besides, a top of the food chain hunter such as himself knew how to make some fun, a chase out of anything. 

Yes, little Yuji Itadori should’ve listened to his teachers. Dating a non-sorcerer, bringing such a tempting piece of meat into his eyeline and waving it around so proudly was a very bad idea.

And Sukuna lived for bad ideas.

“Extension.”

She perked up as Yuji re-approached, “Hey—!” then paused, head cocking as she noticed something… different about him.

“What’s with the…?” she gestured over her face, indicating the black marks now running across his skin.

“They were doing some face-painting at one of the booths,” he answered simply, lowly, “Looks good, right?”

She flushed a bit at the timber of his voice, eyes dropping to the cup of fluffy ice in her hands. Even imitating Itadori, there was a huskiness, a darkness in Sukuna’s voice that couldn’t be masked. And it sent shivers straight up his prey’s lovely spine.

“Y-Yeah… Looks really good.”

He smirked. Trap set.

“Really good, huh?” he purred, sitting on the bench not only next to her, but with his legs pressing hard against hers.

Her cheeks flushed, giggling as he slid his arm behind her shoulders on the bench, and giddy embarrassment set her body afloat. She liked this, liked it a lot. She always wanted Yuji to sweet-talk and touch her like this, more than she really should honestly. But she was way too embarrassed to ever admit that herself. So this extra flirty mood he seemed to be in at the moment was sending her straight to Cloud 9.

“...Uh— Uh-huh. R-Really good.”

She hazarded a look at his face again, the intensity, the uninhibited desire burning like coal in those lazy-lidded eyes sending an all new feeling of excitement through her body. One she’d been denying for a while.

With a squeak, she looked back forward, jutting the cup of fluffy ice over in his general direction, “D-Do you want some more?!”

He barely paid the measly little treat any mind, far more invested in the delicacy so pretty and wrapped up in an obi for him. 

“Yeah, why not.”

She turned towards him, eyes focussing on his tight chest rather than his sinful eyes, so that she could pick up the spoon and feed him. But before she could even touch the utensil, he reached past it, towards her, and caught a little drip of sweet syrup at the corner of her mouth with his thumb. 

Her breath hitched, loud and embarrassingly. But this only seemed to spur him on. He brushed it slowly along the length of her lower lip, pressing it in ever so slightly when he got to the center, kissing the pad of his thumb to her teeth. He could feel everything about her through this, the way her throat bobbed anxiously, the shuttering breath against his skin, the way her tongue sank forward instinctually to meet him. 

She couldn’t help it, the hypnotic lull that it pulled her into. Her eyes started to shutter closed, but in doing so she noticed something.

His nails.

Sukuna clocked this almost simultaneously, whipping his hand back before she completely lost her stupor and bringing the thumb to his own lips, nails hidden from sight. He made a show of licking the residuals of sweetness off of it, eyes boring straight into hers.

“Tastes even better this way,” he purred.

She flushed and turned away quickly and completely, her back to him, beyond embarrassed, “Y-Yuji—!”

“What?”

“That’s so embarrassing,” she squeaked.

“What do you mean?” he husked, leaning in from above her, pressing impossibly closer into her back, “What’s so embarrassing about loving the way you taste?”

Sukuna could feel her cheeks heat up as he slotted his nose into her shoulder, “In fact…”

He pressed his mouth, motionless, into the nape of her neck. He breathed into it, doing everything in his power to get a whisper of a taste of that skin, without devouring her whole.

“I’d love to taste more.”

He ran his hands down her arms, nails catching on every goosebump. They were going slow, teasing, but they weren’t stopping. No, they were not stopping their descent. Not until they got to—

“Y-Yuji,” she gasped out an embarrassed laugh as his hands slipped down to cover her own over the cup, sticky and cold from the fluffy ice dripping forgotten over them, “Come on, there are people around…”

“And?” Sukuna’s fingers weaved with her own squeezing tight, his hips slanting flush against her ass, “If there weren’t people around?”

She tilted her head back, startled by how close his lips were to hers when she did so. Startled, but not scared off. No. Intoxicated. Caught in the center of the spider’s web.

Trapped. Right where he wanted her.

Sukuna’s smirk widened and he caught her lips, all pretense gone. He was going in for the kill.

There was a reason why she was easy prey, and it wasn’t just because she was meek and malleable, easy for Sukuna to overwhelm even without powers.

It was because she wanted this from Yuji, had wanted it for a while, actually. If he didn’t know from all the needing looks and batting lashes she’d sent his way over the last six months — a virgin whore if he’d ever seen one —  it was more than obvious now. The way she grinded against him, gasped excitedly as he shoved her against a tree, back arching as he turned the top of her yukata into a belt, exposing her bare chest to his rough, relentless palms.

He was brought back to the other fucks he’d had under this very tree, when he’d been able to dig his claws into the flesh of shrine maidens until he felt bone. Or that village girl whose spine he’d snapped in half as he came.

This wasn’t nearly as physically exhilarating as those times, but there was something oddly even more exciting about it on a sentimental level. Of course, it was his first fuck in over a millennia, and a virgin at that (his fucking favorite), but she was Yuji’s too. 

Yuji’s girlfriend, Yuji’s love, Yuji’s prize to be won — and he’d stolen her right under the brat’s nose. The only thing that would make it better would be if Yuji could actually see it right now.

He could let that go for now though, especially considering how pliant and eager she was, the way she held back her yelps and locked down any complaints as they slipped down to the cold, crackly ground, her bare back grinding hard into the bark. He knew that it hurt her, he could smell the blood and feel the way her breath hitched in his mouth, and yet miraculously, she didn’t say a word. She wanted this to happen, she wanted to make him happy. And she was too shy to voice anything that might result in otherwise.

“You ready?” he purred, already shoving his pants down to his knees and giving himself a few preparatory pumps, regardless of her answer.

She gulped, and nodded hurriedly.

As soon as he moved her panties to the side and rubbed the head of his cock against her entrance exploratorily, Sukuna knew she was lying. Her body was clearly not quite there. She was plenty wet, sure, but she was still tense from the nerves, and shallow from the lack of prep. 

That was fine though. Actually, it was great. That added ring of resistance? That’s what made virgins and victims the absolute perfect prey, that’s what made them intoxicating.

He couldn’t have held back if he wanted to.

Without any other warning, he slammed his hips forward, fucking her fully.

She cried out with a volume that was clearly not all from joy. She was hurt. And he almost came on the spot at the sound.

“Are you okay?” he asked, just to keep in character. He didn’t care either way.

“Mm—! Mm-hmm!” she nodded frantically, tears clear in her eyes and hesitant to open her mouth, lest she reveal the actual pain she was in.

Oh, a little tough girl, huh? He could fucking fall in love.

Sukuna kept a serious face, but inside he was splitting in two, smiling.

“You sure? Do you want me to stop?” he insisted. It’s not like he would, even if she wanted to. But the idea of her powering through the pain, begging him to keep going even as he broke her? It was just too good to pass up.

“Y-Yes,” she yelped out in such a sweet, strained voice, “P-Please, keep going Yuji!”

He reached forward, running a hand through her hair, that once perfect little updo now frazzled and ruined with leaves and dirt, “I’ll be gentle, okay?”

She sniffled and put on a brave, quivering smile, nodding. He dragged out of her to the tip, slowly, expertly, pulling from her the first little gasp of pleasure.

Then he bottomed out inside her.

She cried out loudly, nails clinging into his back with vicelock strength as he fucked her, truly fucked her. She tried to make those cries sound pleasured, like moans. But she couldn’t hide the screams they truly were. She pulled him closer so that she could try and muffle them into his shoulder. 

But that wouldn’t do. No, that would not fucking do.

The hand in her hair tightened, pulling her head back harshly so that she had nowhere to direct her noise but into the night sky as he pounded into her. She bit her lip, trying to keep them at bay.

“Fuck, it feels so good,” he groaned, genuinely, “What about you, baby? Do you feel good?”

She tried to just get away with nodding and whining.

“Tell me baby,” he pressed, “Tell me it feels good.”

“I-It… It feels good!” she finally cried out, desperate for him to stop, “Y-Yuji, it feels so good!”

He pressed his lips into her cheek, almost cumming on the spot as the streams of tears down her skin touched his tongue.

“I love you so much,” he growled shamelessly.

She smiled a face-splitting smile, eyes wide and puffy, and body completely open and raw, as she tried to love away the pain.

“M-Me too!” she almost gagged, “I love you too!!”

In this life, the previous, or even the next, Sukuna was sure he’d never cum as hard as he did when he saw that face. 

Yuji stared down at her in absolute horror. What had he done? No, what had he done?!

His girlfriend, that pure, perfect girl, the one true light of his life, was laid out beneath him, a complete mess. Covered in dirt, hickeys, and a sheen of her own sweat and tears. 

Raped.

Her bare chest rose and fell heavily (he could be thankful for that at least), and her cheek rested against the twisting roots of the tree they were under as she tried to catch her breath.

No.

No, no, no, no, no—

Her eyes blinked open as she felt a splash against her flesh, pulling her from her post-sex daze. She turned to look up at Yuji, instantly shocked to see him hunched over her and sobbing uncontrollably.

“Yuji?” she gasped, “Yuji what’s wrong?”

“I… I-I just—” he choked, trying desperately not to throw up. His fingers ran shakily across the divots in her skin, the scratches and bitemarks, “Are you o-okay?”

She followed his stroking hands to her marred shoulders and whipped back to him with a gasp.

“Ohhh, sweetie no— don’t worry about those! I’m fine!”

“A-Are you sure?” he rasped.

“Of course!” she pulled him down into a tight embrace, “I loved it, Yuji.”

Those words stabbed him harder and hotter than anything else she could’ve said. Made it all so much worse.

“I absolutely loved it.”

Like what you read? Consider getting your own Commission! ^_^

[iheartbrink]

it will rain — chap. 1

 ⠀ ── ⠀ pair: pastors daughter!stewie x oc

 ⠀ ── ⠀ warnings: extremely heavy religious talk, religious guilt, talks of conversion camp, all the things, this is wordy and too long.

 ⠀ ── ⠀ a/n: my brain is fried from writing this.. not proofread whatsoever.

Breanna knew what she was doing was wrong. Every fiber of her being screamed it. She knew that by crossing this line, she was damning herself. Damning herself not just in the eyes of her parents, her church, or her peers, but in the eyes of God. The teachings she’d grown up with were clear: girls like her were not meant to love girls like Madison. They were meant to confess these urges and purge themselves of these sinful desires. Yet, here she was, on the precipice of something that could never be undone.

She knew, with bone-deep certainty, that if her mother—let alone her father—ever found out about what she was doing, she would be sent away. There would be no forgiveness, no understanding, only punishment. Maybe she’d be shipped off to one of those camps. Or perhaps they’d try to “pray the gay away” during one of the church’s all-night revival sessions. Either way, Breanna wouldn’t be allowed to stay.

She would be sent away.

Sent away from the one person who had ever truly seen her. Sent away from the only person who made her feel as though she wasn’t walking through life with a mask on, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Sent away from her first love, her real love. The one she’d never expected, and yet couldn’t deny.

But what if she wasn’t sent away? What if her secret remained? Could she live with it, knowing it defied everything she had been taught? What would it mean for her, and Madison, if they managed to keep this under wraps? Would the love they shared be worth the risk of eternal damnation?

 ⠀ ── ⠀

Rosewood, California, wasn’t exactly a place for people like Breanna. Not for a queer girl growing up under the suffocating expectations of the church. Certainly not for the daughter of Pastor Stewart, who led Rosewood Catholic Church with an iron grip on morality. In this small town, Breanna was not just Breanna Stewart. She was the Breanna Stewart—church princess, moral compass for others, and the girl who seemingly had it all figured out.

But no one knew about the unrest raging beneath her exterior. Not her father, her mother, or even Lucas—the boy she was supposed to be in love with.

Lucas was a nice enough guy, she supposed, but Breanna couldn’t help the gnawing emptiness she felt whenever he kissed her. There was no spark, no fire, only an odd sense of obligation. She tried to convince herself that this was just how things were meant to be. That she should feel lucky to have a good guy like Lucas, but deep down she knew it was a lie.

Because whenever she looked at her best friend, Madison, her heart surged in a way it never did for Lucas. The way Madison laughed, the way her hair fell in waves over her shoulders, the way she smiled at Breanna like she was the most important person in the world—those things ignited something within her she could not deny.

Breanna had convinced herself for so long that she wasn’t gay. She wasn’t. She couldn’t be. After all, being gay was a sin, and Breanna Stewart didn’t sin. At least, she wasn’t supposed to. But the feelings she had for Madison were impossible to ignore. She could push them down, try to hide them away, but they always resurfaced, stronger each time.

And tonight, they were about to come to a head.

 ⠀ ── ⠀

Breanna knew that coming to this party was a terrible idea. She knew the moment she stepped through the door that she should’ve turned around and gone home.

She had told herself she would stay for an hour, just long enough to show her face and then leave before anything went too far. But somehow, she found herself drawn into a circle of friends playing Seven Minutes in Heaven, a game she had heard about but never dared to play. Not with Madison sitting right next to her, her best friend, her not-so-secret crush.

Now, she was about to enter that dark, claustrophobic closet with Madison. Seven minutes. Alone. With the one person, she had forbidden herself from ever thinking about this way. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stood up to go inside, the air in the room feeling thick and oppressive.

“This is a bad idea,” Breanna thought, over and over again. But her feet kept moving, carrying her forward. She told herself it was just a game, just an innocent little game. She could kiss Madison, prove to herself that it wasn’t all that. Prove to herself that this was nothing more than a phase.

“Kiss her once, show yourself how horrible it is. Then you’ll never crave it again,” Breanna whispered under her breath as they stepped inside the cramped space together.

But the moment Madison’s arm brushed against hers, doubt crept in. The warmth of her skin sent a shiver down Breanna’s spine. The familiar scent of Madison’s perfume filled the small closet, making it hard to breathe.

What if this wasn’t as bad of an idea as she had convinced herself? What if kissing Madison wasn’t a mistake, but rather, the thing she had been denying herself for so long? What if, instead of pushing her further away, this kiss brought them closer together?

She swallowed hard, torn between the pull of desire and the fear of losing everything she had built with Madison.

“Just a quick kiss,” Breanna murmured, the words barely a whisper, her voice unrecognizable to her own ears. Madison’s eyes widened in surprise, searching Breanna’s face for any sign of uncertainty.

“Are you sure?” Madison asked, her voice soft but filled with concern, her breath warm against Breanna’s cheek.

Breanna nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. “Yeah. Just this once.”

Madison hesitated for a moment, and then leaned in. Their lips met softly at first, a gentle touch that sent a shockwave through Breanna’s entire body. Her breath hitched, and for a second, she thought about pulling away. But something deeper took over, and before she knew it, the kiss deepened.

Time seemed to stop. There was no party, no game, no world outside of this kiss. There was only Madison. And as their lips moved together, slow and tentative at first, then more confident, Breanna felt something ignite within her that she hadn’t known was there.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Breanna knew in that instant that this wasn’t just a moment of weakness. This wasn’t a mistake to be buried and forgotten. This was the beginning of something far bigger, something she could no longer ignore.

It wasn’t a sin. It was love. And love, no matter what they said, couldn’t be wrong. Could it?

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 7)

Summary: Dean and the reader are in it now. Max and Sam are safe but how do they get themselves out of danger?

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 8,800ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

Reader POV

You knew there was no way in hell either of you were going to send your brothers back to this fucked up place. Or Eric and Sloane who would surely be killed. But Dean wasn’t going to risk you either. Which meant there was one option.

And thankfully the crowd was still watching the show before them, even if it was much harder to see you and Dean behind the guards.

“Do you know what a blitz is?” you asked. Sebastian looked at you like you were nuts, momentarily distracted exactly how you wanted him. Dean threw a punch, a hard one, connecting directly with Sebastian’s nose. Blood poured out as Dean tried to hit the guard directly behind you and make a hole for you to get away. They were on him like that though, Sebastian’s gaze turning murderous. 

“Take these two to my office. Figure out how to dispose of them. Find those fuckers that ran off and kill them,” he growled. He popped Dean in the face once, twice, three times, your blood boiling. You took the opportunity to kick the guard behind you while the focus was on him, chucking your heel at another guard on your left and sending your fist flying towards Sebastian’s nuts. He nearly doubled over, ignoring Dean for the moment, his attention back on you. His very angry attention. 

His fist flew out fast. You’d been hit plenty of times accidentally in dance rehearsals. High kicks. Wayward hands. Hell, even Eric had gotten you in the face on occasion when you boxed. But those were accidents. Or you were wearing padding. A mouthguard.

Sebastian Monroe hit you so hard you felt your bones rattle. Your left cheek felt split open, though you doubted it was more than scraped up, a stinging pain to accompany the throbbing that echoed in your skull. Maybe a tinge of blood was dripping down your nose.

You stumbled backwards straight into a guard but had enough time to whip your head around and show your still present crowd of party goers your very clearly injured face.

“He just attacked us!” you shouted, Sebastian glowering as you looked back to him with a smirk. “The world just saw you hit the damn princess of pop on a livestream. Do a thing to us and I don’t give a fuck who you know, you’re going down too.”

“Dad, stop.” Cecilia forced her way into the crowd of people when Sebastian reached for me, smacking his hand away. She stared up at him, fury in her eyes. “It’s over.”

“Stay out of-”

“Everyone is watching. They know what she said. They saw your men move first, you attack them. No one in the world will believe that she’s drunk. Look at them.” His gaze momentarily went over her head and past the bodies in front of him to the crowd of guests nearby. 

The room was absolutely silent. Three hundred pairs of eyes dead set on you, Dean, and their host with bloody knuckles. Three hundred phones aimed straight at you. Three hundred witnesses. Too many people to persuade that you’d lost your mind. Too many to convince that you were wrong. Maybe before but after decking you right in front of them? Crazy or not, that was a line in the sand he couldn’t undo.

You yanked Dean to his feet and stepped back from the guards while Sebastian contemplated his next move. He could run or fight. Try to take you and Dean again. Try to buy his way out of this mess. 

But he simply stood there, staring at his daughter, as if he knew there was no good option left. He kept standing there, the room still quiet, everyone still holding their breath.

Cecilia said something you couldn’t make out, something that made him recoil as if she’d struck him. As she backed away, flashing lights filtered in through the windows, your nerves only receding when you saw a swarm of people in FBI jackets and members of your security team.

It was only then that you realized something was covering your shoulders. Dean’s suit jacket. His hand was on your shoulder, arm curled around your back. Wait, why did your shoulder hurt? And why was Dean murmuring, his lips against the top of your head?

You lifted your head, Dean wearing a sad smile. “You back with me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, closing your eyes when Barry and Owen reached the two of you. They got you outside away from the very confused party guests but you had to stay put for the moment. The feds were busy rounding up every guard they could find, more and more lights flashing in the dark night, more and more cars heard in the distance.

“That was so fucking stupid of you,” said Dean, taking a seat on the front steps, guiding you down with him. His thumb grazed your jaw, careful to avoid your cheek. You smirked, Dean returning it. “You lost your cool. It was a little scary. A little hot too.”

Your eyes wandered down to the bracelet on your wrist, bottom lip wobbling before Dean was pulling you into his lap. “E-Eric taught me how to win a fight. How to beat people twice my size. How to beat a group when I was outnumbered. But the most important thing he taught me-”

“Words are your greatest weapon.” We both looked up, Eric frowning as he inhaled sharply. You eased slightly. He wouldn’t have left Max and Sam unless they were safe.

“That bad?” I asked when he knelt down in front of me, flickering his eyes up. 

“I told you to always fight as a last resort, kiddo,” he whispered. “What happened?”

“She started screaming at him after the text,” said Dean, his arm around my shoulders, holding me close. “They tried to grab her after that and it escalated.”

Eric stared at Dean’s black eye and split lip for a moment, raising an eyebrow at you. “So you baited him. Smart girl.”

“Huh?” asked Dean. You pursed your lips. “What’d I miss?”

“You tossed me the phone so I could read the text.”

“Yeah? Then you left it on the table when you hopped down.” 

“Not exactly.” You reached behind you, under Dean’s jacket and your tight one shoulder sleeve, pulling out the phone. You held it out to Eric, his head shaking as he saw the video was still recording. “If I was shouting and screaming, then people were looking at me but they weren’t looking at me. While Sebastian was worried about the fact that Sam and Max were apparently two very famous people’s brothers, he didn’t see me slip the phone away and he definitely didn’t see me catch him threatening to kill us on tape.”

“Hot damn,” said Dean, staring at you with wide eyes. “You came up with all that in a few seconds?”

“When Eric started working for me, he sat me down one on one and told me I could listen to him, learn his rules, let him keep me safe. Or I could not be a damsel and learn how to take care of myself and know he had my back. Pissed me off so much calling me a damsel I decided I’d show him and learn how to do his job better than him.”

“Never suspected that’s what I wanted her to do all along,” said Eric softly, surprising you by taking Dean’s cheeks in his hands, turning his face gently. “When you’re no longer concussed, which you totally are, you and I are going to start meeting for an hour a week, teach you to be safe too. Alright, sport?”

“Sport? Eric Clayton, you don’t care about me now do you?” teased Dean. Eric scoffed, rolling his eyes as he looked you over quickly. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone what a softie you are.”

“I really need to find a new job,” he sighed, pecking a kiss to your forehead as he stood. “I don’t think you have a concussion. A scrape and nasty bruise. Maybe that got your nose but the hospital will check. Don’t do that again, kiddo.”

“I’ll do my best,” you said, catching his hand when he headed for someone in an FBI jacket. “Are they okay?”

“We got in the car before this scumbags cronies knew what hit them. They’re both a little skinny but otherwise seemed alright. Sloane and the rest of the team is escorting them to a hospital where some agents are waiting. You two are going to have to give statements but I’m going to hand this over and check that I can get you out of here first.”

“Can you ask when we can see them?” asked Dean, Eric parting his lips, hesitating. 

“Yes but…please try to understand what I’m about to say,” said Eric, squatting down in front of both of you. “When someone is abducted, and found, it’s not like a movie. They have to be checked medically. Psych evaluations. Debriefed by authorities. They have to be cleared to see their families again and the process can be…lengthy. It could be six hours, it could be twelve, it could be three days. Your brothers have been gone a very long time. There are a lot of people involved in making sure that they are as prepared as they can be to see you again. These are not your teenage brothers who were barely going through puberty when you lost them. They’re grown men. They need time to adjust.”

Dean took your hand, interlacing your fingers with a nod. “We’ve waited a long time. We can wait a little longer.”

Eric excused himself while you sat in silence together. Ten minutes ago, your brain was going a million miles an hour and now…

“We should call our parents,” said Dean quietly. “They’re going to feel so guilty for thinking they were gone.”

“It’ll be alright,” you said, Eric waving the two of you over to where he chatted with an agent. “Come on. Let’s go get you settled.”

Four Hours Later

It was a shade past midnight when you found Dean in a hospital room. It hadn’t taken long for you to discover you were trending on every social media platform. Worldwide. Your entire team showed up to the hospital along with Dean’s agent. While you were expecting them to want to spin some story, instead they came with changes of clothes for each of you and word that your parents were booked and on a private flight out to LA already.

Max and Sam had been taken to a different hospital but you knew they had federal agents with them so you didn’t worry too much.

“Hey handsome,” you said quietly, taking a seat on his hospital bed. Dean smiled in his joggers and long sleeve henley, reaching a finger out to brush your cheek. “Won’t even scar. Apparently all the plastic surgeons at this hospital were chomping at the bit to work on my face. One even offered to fix my nose at a discount.”

“I love your nose,” he said, wiping his thumb over the black and blue crossing over the bridge of it. “Not broken?”

“No. Burst blood vessels is all.” You pushed up the sleeve of his hoodie you wore and scooted up closer to him, his hand resting on your gray sweatpants. 

“Oh these are soft,” he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m not sleeping. Don’t scold me.”

“That’s more Sloane’s job, isn’t it?” you teased, Dean agreeing, fluttering his lids open. “Your parents are at FBI headquarters. Mine should be there soon.”

“S’good. Maybe they can see the guys in a few hours. Sloane said a friend in the agency gave some intel. Clean bills of health. They have some old scars on their backs and what look like a healed burn though.”

“Well if the boys want them gone apparently there’s enough plastic surgeons here to take care of it,” you said, Dean humming. You were both quiet, trying to ignore that they’d been hurt at some point. Badly. “Did she find out anything else?”

“Not a lot. They’re still undergoing their mental evals before they take them to the headquarters but it seems promising? Definitely a lot of trauma and PTSD but like the guys have likely learned how to manage on their own I guess? I mean, in my opinion we get those two into the best therapist we can find but in the meantime they’re like…doing better than expected.”

You leaned back in the bed, cramming into his side with a content sigh. “It’s because they had each other. They weren’t alone. I hope.”

“We’ll learn more the next few days, figure out what they need,” said Dean, brushing his lips over your temple. “They should live with us, not our parents.”

“I don’t disagree but why?” 

“S’like Eric said. Max and Sam are not teenage boys anymore. They are both twenty eight and fuck, Y/N, they deserve to be adults. Our parents will suffocate them with concern. We can tow that line. Be there but let them be independent, let them be free. Obviously it’s their choice but with the attention that’s going to be on them, we can keep them safe too. We can show them how much fun there is to life in a way our parents can’t.”

“That makes sense. I just want them with us,” you said, closing your eyes, hoping the medicine they gave you for your headache kicked in soon. “I’m sorry I called you those nasty things.”

“It wasn’t real. All’s forgiven,” he said, his arm wrapped firmly around my shoulder. “I’m sorry too.”

“It’s okay. Emma said there’s a clip going around of you going all Alpha and stepping in front of me to protect me. Apparently you are in fact, not quite the bad boy people thought.”

“We got our brothers back and I’m no longer a scoundrel? I’d call that a successful night,” he teased, adjusting himself so he sat upright. “Can you do me a favor and get me a snack from the vending machine? I need some sugar.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back,” you said, sharing a quick kiss. A moment later you were down the hall, grabbing a package of swiss rolls for Dean. Your ears pricked up at the sudden noise in the quiet hospital wing. The staff had blocked off a corner of it for you and currently was restricted to your people in the waiting room. 

But someone was definitely making noise in a hospital room nearby.

You poked your head in a large dark room, big enough to hold eight beds. There was a grunt and you frowned. The staff said you had these rooms to yourself. They hadn’t forgotten a patient had they?

You quickly walked through the dark space, towards a dim light coming through the windows.

“Excuse me-” You pulled back a curtain, jaw snapping shut as two very naked people quickly scrambled to pull up the sheet at the end of the bed. You shut the curtain and spun around, loud shuffling occurring behind you. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize…”

You quickly walked for the door, barely outside of it before a hand caught your shoulder. 

“Y/N.” You turned and faced Eric, his tuxedo pants pulled up but buckle undone, his undershirt halfway tugged down his torso. “I uh, don’t apologize. I’m the one on duty. We are on duty. We should-”

“Stop,” you said, holding up a hand. Eric frowned but remained silent. “I walk in on you and Sloane screwing and you apologize to me? No. Just, no.”

“We are on duty-”

“And there are how many cops and feds outside those doors over there? You know it’s safe here so don’t…” you trailed off as Sloane cleared her throat, walking out barefoot in her dress. You looked between them, Eric glancing down to stare at her hand.

He slowly laced their fingers together, sharing a small smile with her.

“Are we…good?” you asked, the two of them sharing a look and smiling, heads nodding. “Are we happy?”

“Yeah,” said Eric, not giving you the time of day as his eyes wandered all around Sloane’s face, nothing but adoration in them. “I think so.”

“Tonight was a bit of a needed reality check. We wasted a lot of time by not talking to each other. So we talked it out. We’ll talk more about it but…” Sloane trailed off, giving Eric a soft smile. 

“We’re going to give us a chance.” He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, his sole focus on her. 

“You both deserve it,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Which is why Eric, you are suspended until further notice.”

He slowly turned his head, giving you his best bitch face. “You’re being checked for a concussion again because if you think I’m going anywhere after everything that happened tonight-“

“Dean and I are safe. We can’t do anything but wait for Dean to get released and then to see the boys. So you two are dismissed. Go talk or whatever you guys want. But I don’t want to see your faces-Eric!” you said when he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. Sloane, you understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she said, cocking her head. “But there’s no way in hell we’re leaving you guys.”

You frowned, Sloane slipping past you, heading for the women’s room. You gave Eric a glare, a cocky smirk staring back. “Why are you being difficult about this? We are safe. You two have been in love for years and you’re finally working it out. Take her home, Eric.”

“Nah,” he said, crossing his arms, chuckling when you huffed.

“I will fire you.” He laughed, choosing to wrap his arms around your body, giving you a tight hug. “I’m not joking.”

He hummed, ignoring your repeated grunts at him. Finally you sighed, his chest warm against your achy cheek. After a few beats, you let out a small shake, Eric kissing the top of your head.

“What did your parents say on the phone that made you cry?” You stiffened momentarily, Eric’s chin coming to rest on top of your head. “You think I didn’t catch that? I know everything that happens around here. Spill.”

“Promise me you won’t get angry because when you get angry at them you go all crazy and I need the version of you that’s like my older brother, not my scary protection agent. Please.”

“You do realize older brothers are far more protective than people in my line of duty.” You pouted, staring upwards, his finger booping your nose. Tears filled your eyes, his own full of worry. “I promise to be good. Don’t worry-”

“No it’s…do you actually care about me? Like an older brother would?” you asked quietly. He smiled, leaning back to look you up and down. 

“You remember a few years ago how you thought you asked me to have sex the night of your 30th birthday? Yeah, see, you actually asked every single man on the security team and they all saw how clearly plastered you were and said no.” You blinked away your tears momentarily, holding up a finger. 

“I did what?” Eric laughed deeply, rubbing your arms.

“It was a bit adorable really. But me? No, I didn’t get an ask because it would have been ‘like fucking my brother.’ I put you to bed after that. You were shaky on the details in the morning and knew you asked somebody to screw you so I took the heat so you didn’t feel embarrassed around the boys. So. Do I care about you?” He cocked his head, hiding a smile. “Yeah. I care a fuck ton. You’re my best damn friend, little sister and the world’s biggest pain in my ass all rolled into one. I love you kiddo which is why as much as I’d love to take Sloane home, she understands I’m not leaving my family alone tonight. Especially not when your parents are vile because I had a dad like that and I know how it fucks you up.” 

You swallowed thickly, Eric bending down to be at eye level with you.

“Just because Max is back does not mean you have to have a relationship with them. They-”

“It wasn’t my fault,” you whispered. He furrowed his brow, Sloane’s footsteps heard behind you, coming to a stop. “They called and asked me not to tell Max what they said because…b-because I was never supposed to pick him up that day. They were. They blamed me so they wouldn’t get scrutinized. T-They blamed me and told me…for years I thought…”

You hiccuped, Eric’s grip on your shoulders hard, so hard it hurt. He was pissed. More than pissed. But his face was strangely calm.

“You punched a mob boss in the dick tonight. A very, very violent man that’s killed god knows how many people. You’re strong and you know that. I saw the tape and damn it kid, you are amazing. I am begging you, do not let these people hurt you anymore. They don’t deserve your protection. They are abusive and manipulative. My dad was the same way. Exactly the same. Don’t be like me and wait your whole life to acknowledge it. Don’t give them a second more of your time. Be a big sister instead and do what you have to in order to protect Max.” 

“It’ll break his heart,” you breathed out.

“Look at his life. His heart’s already broken.” You looked past Eric and spotted Dean, green eyes downcast. “Those people told you to die. Fuck them. Max still has a family, right here. Hell, he can have my parents too. But we are not letting him go from one manipulative monster straight to another. And you already decided that, didn’t you?”

“I just…I don’t…what if he thinks I’m lying?” you whispered. Eric moved aside, Dean sighing as he gently tilted your chin upwards. “What if he picks them? They’re his parents. I’m-”

“Y/N.” Dean shook his head. “You’re forgetting something very important.”

“What?” you breathed out, his hand cupping your uninjured cheek. 

“He probably remembers every single detail of that day. He knows you weren’t meant to get him. Even if you were, it wasn’t your fault. As far as we know, he’s spent a long time living with a manipulative bastard. The second they blame you to his face, he’s going to figure out exactly what life’s been like for you while he was gone. You’re not going to have to say a thing. They’re going to fuck it up themselves. All you have to do is be there for him after the fact, sweetheart.”

You nodded, Dean wrapping you up in a hug, Eric and Sloane leaving to give you some privacy. “Dean?”

“Hm?” he hummed.

“You want your swiss rolls?” He laughed and let out an agreeing hum. A moment later you were in his bed, splitting the package, a pit forming in your stomach. You left your snack in the opened plastic wrapper, Dean’s heated gaze on you when you went to the dark window. You glanced downwards to the parking lot, catching at least nine different news vans with bright lights on. “They’ll never have normal lives. Sam and Max. Even if we weren’t famous, they are in their own right. They didn’t get to be normal kids.”

“What’s really wrong?” he asked. You glanced over your shoulder, Dean sat upright in bed, lips pressed into a thin line. 

“How do you know something’s wrong?” you whispered, crossing your arms. His lip twitched up, if only for a brief moment.

“How’d you know I’d pick up on what cherry blossoms meant in that fake fight?” You bit the inside of your cheek, shrugging a shoulder.

“Because you’re smart. I trust you.”

“Why cherry blossoms?” Dean asked again. You stepped away from the window, stopping in front of him. 

“Because it means a safe place to me.” He took your hands in his, stroking the backs of them with his thumbs. You met his gaze, Dean staring up with big green eyes that eased some of the worry in your gut. “My childhood house, there’s a cherry blossom in the front yard. It was weird because no one in the neighborhood had one. But we did. It was the tree that was always safe when Max and I played hide and seek. It was the finish line whenever we had races. I had my first kiss under that tree. I wrote my first song under it. The day Max didn’t come home, I sat out there for hours crying and then just feeling numb.”

The pit in your stomach rose up, eyes quickly fighting back hot tears.

“It was safe. He knew it was safe. It was always safe or home base or where he’d wait for me to get home from practice so we could play after school. So I’d sit under that stupid tree everyday for hours hoping he’d just come back to where it was home, where it was safe. To our stupid finish line.” You wiped off your face with your sleeve, Dean’s chest rising and falling slowly. “Finish Line is about that damn tree. Homebound? That tree. Cherry Lipstick? Tree. Blossom? Tree. Jungle Gym? Tree. They were all for Max. All for him just in case he heard them so he’d know. So he’d know I was still looking, that I wasn’t giving up on him. It’s the only reason I signed my first record deal at all. I thought the more popular I got, the more power and money I’d have and maybe I could find him. I thought it’d be enough but it wasn’t. It all came down to dumb luck.”

“Y/N.” Dean chuckled, pulling you down to sit on his lap. You put your arms around his neck, Dean shaking his head. “You’re the best damn big sister in the world. Max might be losing his parents but he’s got nothing to worry about.”

“I worry about things,” you said, Dean laughing again.

“No shit,” he said, his deep chuckle helping ease away some of the lingering concerns in the back of your mind. “Now sit down and relax. Tonight’s a good night.”

“I know,” you said, Dean handing you the swiss roll. You took a bite, Dean scooting back on the bed, bringing you with him. “That’s why I told security the all safe code was cherry blossoms. But I still don’t get why would Eric tell you that when we didn’t know each other much yet?”

“I think he saw the way we were together at the restaurant and that afternoon. It was probably as obvious to him as him and Sloane are to us. It’s inevitable.”

“Inevitable? Good song name,” you said, Dean grinning. “You know I totally caught them fucking in a room down the hall.”

“Eric!” shouted Dean. Approximately six seconds later he was in the doorway, gun in his hands and wide eyed. “You and Sloane, eh? About fucking time!”

“I swear to god I’m quitting this job,” grumbled Eric, flipping Dean the bird as he left.

“That’s his love language,” you said, Dean laughing. “You know what mine is?”

“Cuddles, orgasms and swiss rolls?” You looked him up and down, nodding your head. “I’m just that good.”

“Oh my god,” you said, rolling your eyes and slipping out of bed. “I’m getting more snacks, cocky bastard.”

“You love it,” he teased. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, playboy.”

Dean POV

“Thanks,” I said the next morning at the local FBI headquarters. I was tired, my face hurt, and I definitely had a concussion which meant sitting out tonight’s game and the next few weeks worth. Y/N’s cheek had swollen to a nasty purple color but she’d gotten a few hours sleep at the hospital. I hated to see her hurt but she took it in stride, her focus elsewhere.

Sam and Max were somewhere in the building, as free men, which made my stomach do this weird flipping thing akin to the first time I’d seen Y/N. It was nerves but good ones. We’d be able to talk to the guys soon but they were wrapping up talking to some special investigator which meant Y/N and I had time to kill. While our parents were using that time to scream at each other in a conference room after I not so subtly slipped to mine about what her parents plans were, Y/N got dragged into signing autographs for the people in the office. It was fucking ridiculous and unprofessional of these people but she needed something to do to keep her mind occupied.

Which meant I had a chance to talk to someone I’d been dying to since last night.

“Hey,” I said. Cecilia looked up from the table she’d been staring at. Her pretty blue dress from last night was gone. Now she wore way too big sweatpants, an FBI shirt and had a pair of cheap flip flops on her feet. “The agent said you’re okay if I talk to you for a minute?”

She nodded, pulling her hands down to under the table. I took a seat across, giving her a smile.

“I uh, went to the LA concert at the end of August too,” I said, holding up my wrist so she could see my friendship bracelet. “That was before Y/N and I knew each other.”

She only stared, vacantly almost. Poor kid looked like she’d been up half the night. 

“Why did you protect us last night?” I asked. “You stepped in and your dad just…it was like he realized it was over.”

“He was going to kill you both. He tends to do that to people.” I took my turn to stare, Cecilia sighing. “He would have, even if everyone was live streaming it. He didn’t care at that point.”

“But why would you protect two strangers? I don’t even understand how you got him to stop-”

“Just because he’s a bad person doesn’t mean I’m one.” I parted my lips, the right words to respond not coming. “It’s why I lied for Sam and Max when they slipped your guys names to the party planner. I always knew my dad was violent and something was up with them. I figured they always worked to send money to their families or he’d threatened them. But a man like my dad…”

“What he says goes,” I filled in for her. She nodded, relaxing her shoulders. “Thank you for covering for them. I’m guessing they would have been killed if you hadn’t.”

“It’s not a guess,” she said, breathing deeply. “I’m the only thing in the world my dad cares about more than keeping his power.”

Cecilia leaned back in her chair, glancing down for a split second. 

“I told him if he touched either of you, touched anyone, he would never see or speak to me again. We fight enough that he knows I’m telling the truth.”

“Is that why you’re helping the feds? You hate your dad?”

She got up, pacing back and forth. “I don’t hate him. He was never bad to me. He was overprotective if anything. But he bought two boys off the black market to be slaves for him. Shit Max started working at my house two months after I was born. My whole life. My father doesn’t deserve to be free ever again. I just wish I said something sooner.”

I rose to my feet, Cecilia stopping in her tracks. I took a few tentative steps closer, her arms firmly crossed over her chest. I paused a few feet away, her short frame practically dwarfed by the large clothes, making her look even smaller.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to tell you something and I need you to listen to me, really listen.” I crouched down to meet her at eye level, finding her gnawing on her bottom lip. “It was not on you to save Max or Sam. Or even Y/N or myself. But you did. At fucking fourteen years old. You’re still a damn kid and you went way above and beyond for us. Don’t you ever blame yourself for anything your dad ever did. He might not be a good person but you are an amazing one and I will owe you for the rest of my life. I may hate your dad but I don’t hate you. Y/N and I both feel that way. I’m sure our brothers do too. Now, life is going to get rough for you because all of us are all over the news. But we’re going to help you get through it. Whatever you need, we will help. Understand?”

She nodded after a moment, her eyes still full of worry.

“They said your mom is flying over from Europe right now,” I said, going to the table and jotting down my number on the notepad in there. “This is my cell. I want you to give it to your mom when she gets in. Tell her to call me anytime, okay?”

“Why would you help me?” she asked quietly. I stood upright, handing her the paper. She took it, carefully folding it and putting it in her pocket.

“Because you’re a good kid and you can’t help having a shitty parent. Now, do you need anything while you wait for your mom?” Cecilia shook her head. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Can…can you tell the guys I’m sorry? And Y/N too?”

“Sorry, no can do. You only apologize when you’ve done something wrong you see.” She rolled her eyes, quickly frowning when she realized what she’d done. “Do me a favor? Keep being a normal teenager.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. 

“Thank you, Cecilia,” I said, offering her a smile. “I’m sure we’ll talk again. Maybe we can catch one of Y/N’s concerts together next year.”

She blushed and nodded. I had my hand on the door when she cleared her throat behind me. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“This is probably going to come off as super creepy but Y/N is happier with you. Take it from a teenager that’s obsessed with her. She is so much happier in pictures lately. I saw the way you stepped in front of her. You’re a good person too.”

“I try,” I said. “I’ll see you around.”

I was in the hallway for less than two seconds when Sloane rounded a corner, taking my hand. “The boys are ready. They want to see you and Y/N first.”

I didn’t have time to get nervous as Sloane dragged me down the hall and back around the corner, Y/N and Eric waiting outside a door with a few agents. Sloane released me as I took Y/N’s hand, one of the agents opening the door for us.

I spotted an unfamiliar young man spinning around in a conference chair first, the room full of light from the large windows on the back wall. He had the same color hair as Y/N, his eyes filtering over and meeting mine, finding those the same as hers too.

We both looked away at the same time, my eyes drawn to the figure by the windows. Holy shit Sammy got tall. His hair was a longer and I could see the beginnings of stubble along his jaw, probably in need of a shave. 

But that smile when he saw me? That was still my Sammy’s smile.

At least that hadn’t been taken from him.

“Wow. Can you believe it Sam?” asked Max, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “It’s the three time superbowl winner Dean Winchester!”

“I know! And the Princess of Pop? I think we’re supposed to be meeting our brother and sister, not celebrities. Where are those untalented hacks anyway?” teased Sam.

“No clue. Maybe we can get autographs while we wait. Our siblings definitely aren’t as cool as these guys,” said Max with a shit eating grin aimed at Y/N. He winked and she dropped her jaw. “Hiya, horse hair.”

“I don’t have horse hair you little shit,” she said, storming over, Max catching her in a crushing hug as he stood. 

“Hey jerk,” said Sam as he approached me.

“Hey bitch,” I whispered, meeting him in a deep embrace. He chuckled deeply, squeezing me way too tight. “What’s so funny?”

“I’ve been dying to show you for years I ended up taller than you.” I rolled my eyes, holding him harder. “It’s alright. Only one of us could be blessed to be tall and good looking I suppose.”

“Oh I fucking missed you, you asshole,” I laughed. There was a squeal beside us, both our heads turning as Max quickly released Y/N. “Don’t break her on me, Max. I like that one.”

“Eh, she’s alright,” he said, Y/N wrapping her arms around his waist in a side hug. “A little clingy.”

“You’re a dick,” she said with a smile. “I missed you Maxie.”

“Yeah I guess I missed you too,” he said with a roll of his eyes and a smile. He gave her another squeeze and looked to me, eyes flickering down to my arm. “Nice tat.”

“Thanks. Little brothers go on the arm,” I said, Max glancing back up. “Come here, shrimp.”

I pulled him into a hug as Sam reached for Y/N, the two of them sharing some words. Max relaxed against me, letting out a very deep breath.

“You don’t know this yet but I really love you, kid.” He burrowed his head in the crook of my neck, nodding once. “You can cry you know.”

“I did enough of that over the years,” he said, raising his head, smiling wide as he looked me in the eye. “It’s just like being able to take a full breath for the first time in a long time.”

“I understand the feeling,” I said, ruffling his hair, spotting the faded bruise on his cheek. “What happened here?”

“It was part of our plan. Well…getting punched wasn’t but it was part of it,” he said. I cocked my head when Sam threw an arm around my shoulders, Y/N sneaking in between the both of them.

“Plan? All we heard was you guys slipped our names onto some guest list,” said Y/N. They shared a look, silently communicating, the sudden realization hitting me that there was so much we didn’t know.

“We’ve made…a few escape attempts over the years,” said Sam. “The last failed one was eight years ago. We knew if we tried again, it had to have high chance of success which meant outside help.”

“Because we only had one shot left and we knew both of you had some level of infamy…we always thought if we could reach out to one of you, we knew we’d be able to get out. But it was kind of impossible until we found out you were dating.”

“Seb, that motherfucker, loves the Wolves and Dean. Cecilia loves Y/N and those two had a pretty argumentative relationship to say the least. We figured if we could somehow get you guys invited to one of his parties, he wouldn’t think twice because maybe it was a way to get some good grace with his daughter and it benefited him at the same time,” said Sam. “So we risked it.”

“How’s she doing by the way? We heard Seb was arrested. She doesn’t really have anyone else beside her mom who Seb has banished to Switzerland most of the year,” said Max. 

“She’s uh, alright. Pretty sure the kid is beating herself up for not saying anything about you guys, said she had a gut feeling something was always off,” I said. They shared a look again and frowned. “She’s just a kid, guys. She-”

“Cecilia is the only person we like,” said Sam with a laugh. “Trust us. She’s how we know so much about you guys.”

“She was also the only person that was ever nice to us. No, we have no problem with her. We should talk to her before we leave if we can,” said Max, Sam agreeing. “But I guess we should save the explanations for when mom and dad are here.”

Y/N’s face fell, Sam giving her a side hug. “He means my parents. Max decided they were his a long time ago cause yours kind of suck. No offense.”

Y/N snapped her head up to Max who shrugged. “They blamed you when it wasn’t your fault. Maybe they didn’t spell it out but I heard enough from Cecilia and caught enough snippets from interviews she’d watch to know that they tried to pin my kidnapping on you. I gave them up years ago. I hear John and Mary are nice.”

“They are,” she said, closing her eyes. “I was freaking out last night about telling you and…we can talk about it later. I’m sure your guys parents are chomping at the bit.”

“They’re going to smother us,” sighed Sam. 

“Yeah. Isn’t it great?” asked Max, giving both me and Y/N a hug, Sam completing it on my right side. “Alright. Let’s let ‘em in.”

“So why was that pass interference?” asked Y/N as we lay on her large sectional late that night watching football. 

“You can’t hold the guy,” said Sam, walking around the chaise and taking a seat beside me.

“That was not a hold,” said Max and Y/N in sync. 

“Yes it was,” I said, Sam echoing my sentiments.

“It wasn’t but the angle is bad,” said Eric, Sloane leaned back against his chest over on the love seat. “Aren’t you supposed to route for the Wolves by default, kiddo?”

“We are a Chiefs family thank you very much,” said Max, Sam rolling his eyes. “Oh you want to start again, Winchester?”

“We are formerly a Chiefs family, Maxwell,” said Sam, narrowing his eyes. “How many times have we been over this?”

“I am a Wolves fan when they are not playing against the Chiefs. How many times have we better over that, Samuel?” shot back Max.

“Here we thought they’d be traumatized shells of themselves. Instead you’ve been bickering over football the past decade?” asked Y/N, turning her head to look at both.

“It’s a coping mechanism,” said Sloane, taking a piece of popcorn from the bowl in her lap. “Although your guys psych eval report was shockingly positive. Some stuff to work through but manageable. I always figured you’d be super fucked up. No offense.”

“One of the shrink people said it’s cause we had each other,” said Sam, glancing at Max. “Healthy codependency.”

“We probably should go to therapy though,” said Max, Y/N ruffling his hair.

“Of course. When you’re ready. Take a few days before you try to start unpacking. And when you’re ready we can see a doctor about getting those scars removed,” she said. They were both quiet for a moment, Sam’s head resting on my shoulder. 

“So why aren’t you at your game tonight?” asked Sam. 

“Oh I wonder,” I scoffed, giving him a noogie. “Coach said if I set foot in the stadium he’d bench me the rest of the season. He’s a good guy.”

“That’s nice considering you get paid a gajillion dollars to show up, even if you’re half dead.” Sam snickered beside me, letting me pull him into a noogie.

“Probably helps that Y/N personally spoke to the commissioner of the league and threatened to pull out of the halftime show if they didn’t quote ‘Make accommodations for not only an injured top draw of the league but someone who’s personal life they’ve capitalized on all season.’ Girl don’t fuck around,” said Eric. He took a sip from his beer, Max raising an eyebrow at his sister.

“Seriously? You’re that famous?” he asked.

“She’s that powerful,” I said. Y/N tilted her head upwards, a small smile on her lips. “Excuse us for a minute.”

I took her hand, Y/N following me down the hall to her studio. Y/N slid her hands up my arm, holding on tight. “What are you thinking about big guy?”

“Do you remember last night before the party when I was talking about football?” She hummed, tracing her thumb under my black eye. “My contract runs out this year. My agent was about to start negotiations.”

Y/N pulled me over to the piano, sitting on the bench before patting the spot next to her. Slowly I sat, her right hand reaching across my body and hitting a key. She took my hand and hit the same key with it, doing it a few times. 

“What are you doing?” She moved my hand down the keys, hitting another one.

“You like the piano. We’re going to have to find you a hobby in retirement and this is one we can do together.” A stupid smile spread onto my face, Y/N lacing our fingers together. “You were halfway out the door last night. Now that the boys are back…maybe you take a year, we take time with them while you figure out what you want to do next.”

“I told coach earlier this is my last season,” I said. “I need to be home more.”

“Just don’t give up what you want for us,” she said. I shrugged, turning in my seat. 

“I’m not giving up anything. I’m gaining something new.” I took her hands into my lap, Y/N shifting closer. “I do want one thing though. Live life for you, not Max. He’s going to be alright. So no more songs trying to talk to him. No more pushing yourself to the extreme. Let’s start making you the priority and what you want.”

“I want you to move in permanently. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to write the sappiest love songs about you. I want to do only twenty shows next year and focus on our family for the rest. I want-”

“Damn girl, you’re greedy,” I teased. She punched my arm, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I think we can arrange those things, sweetheart.”

“Oh and I want to plan Eric and Sloane’s wedding,” she said. I laughed, tugging her into my lap, her legs wrapping around my waist. “Can you imagine? It’ll be full of like badass action movie kind of people.”

“Eric’s going to hate it. I’m in,” I said, chuckling lightly. “It’s a little presumptuous though. I mean, they started dating twenty hours ago.”

“Those two are so going to be engaged within a month.” I hummed, cocking my head. “That isn’t me saying I need…you don’t have to-”

“We don’t have to rush. Someday,” I promised.

“Someday,” she whispered, brushing her lips over mine. “So if brothers go on the arm, where do I go?”

“Where do I go?” I teased, Y/N grinning. “Oh? Do we have an idea?”

“Oh yeah I’ve got one of those.”

Reader POV

Four Months Later

You jogged down the hall of the stadium, buckets of sweat pouring off you. Even Eric was having a hard time keeping up. You kept running around a corner though, smiling when you saw an equally sweaty Dean in his uniform and pads, helmet by his side talking to Benny and Michael.

“Hey!” You ran over and found yourself in a big hug, Dean squeezing you tight. “You’re doing amazing sweetie. But you, Benjamin, are favoring your right shoulder and making a hole and the Chiefs are taking advantage. Get your shit together. He’s going out with a superbowl win, got it?”

He held up his hands, Dean chuckling to himself. “Didn’t you guys like it better before I taught her all the rushing routes?”

“She’d make a good offensive coordinator,” said Michael. “Great show out there. Normally these suck but yours was actually watchable.”

“I’ll bring you up next time,” you winked. “I’ve heard you sing karaoke.”

His face went white and you laughed, Dean kissing your sweaty forehead. “How are the boys doing?”

“Max is in a Wolves jersey. Win or lose, you get to make fun of him for switching his team after making such a big deal about it.” 

“Oh I definitely will,” he said, people moving around and heading back onto the field. “Walk with me.”

You followed by his side, Dean taking your hand in his. “They seemed like they’re having a blast. They had on matching shirts making fun of us earlier so we’re going to get memed the hell out of.”

“Good. I’m glad they’re having fun,” he said, the stadium loud when you stepped foot onto the fake astroturf. “Are you?”

“Are you kidding me? I just performed at the superbowl. You’re up by ten. Our brothers are having the times of their lives. I’m pretty sure Eric and Sloane got caught on camera staring adorable into each others eyes which I’m totally printing out onto t-shirts we can embarrass them with.”

“I’m literally right here, asshole,” said Eric behind you. You spun around with a smile, Eric rolling his eyes. “You got a minute before we head back if you don’t want to miss any of the game.”

“You mean you don’t want to miss any of the game. You know I appreciate my number one fan, Eric,” said Dean with a cheeky grin. Eric flipped him off, hanging back once you were closer to security. 

“Kick it in the ass, babe.” You held up your hand, Dean high fiving it before your fist bumped into an explosion, a tradition you’d started before each of his playoff games.

“Always do. Ready to have a trophy husband in about three hours?” he teased. 

“Trophy husband?” you said, Dean thumbing over the heart tattoo on your wrist, his own sporting a matching one. You weren’t married. Technically. There was a time for that down the road. But you’d gotten the tattoos a few days after Max and Sam had come home. The media had guessed what it meant and landed on it was some stupidly cute couple thing. Only a few knew the true meaning.

You were his, he was yours and that was that.

“I mean you do have a cute butt. I guess you can be one of those,” you laughed. Dean grinned and pecked a kiss to your lips, a thunderous roar in your ears from the thousand of onlookers. “I love you so much.”

“I love you girl with the obnoxious orange sneakers,” he said. You glanced down and blushed, Dean curling a strand of slick hair behind your ears. “Want to grab some chicken nuggies with me after my game? I mean, last time I was there I ran into the love of my life. Maybe I’ll see her again.”

“Yeah I think you will,” you said, kissing him quickly and winking. “I’ll see you soon, playboy.”

“See you soon, princess.” You let him jog over to his team, quickly jogging out of there with Eric by your side. 

“I love your sneakers!” shouted someone as you ran through a stadium hall, trying to make it back upstairs to grab a quick shower and change. 

“Thank you!” you called back, Eric shaking his head. “What?”

“I can’t believe you wore those godawful orange sneakers in front of a hundred million people,” he said. “The Winchester jersey makes sense but the shoes?”

“I didn’t do it for them,” you said, smiling when you glanced down at the shoes. 

Your original sneakers from college. It’d taken some hunting down but you’d found them still in your old roommates possession. More than one of your designers and members of the team tried to persuade you to not wear them. They clashed. They were ugly. They didn’t match anything.

But you didn’t care. 

While the world was watching you perform in those orange sneakers, you only cared about one person watching. 

The boy that fell in love with the girl with the obnoxious orange sneakers. And that smile on his face when he saw you in them? 

You’d never forget that smile for the rest of your life.

___________

[mendeshoney]

you know my weakness is you (act two)

author's note: um...hello? is this thing on? sorry i've been away and that it took me a literal year and a few days to post part two to this story. also i meant to post this eariler but i am at home visiting family so i didn't realize this was not queued to post in est until literally right now. i appreciate everyone's love and patience in the meantime and hope you enjoy!

as a reminder - this character is a WOC and is plus sized bc...well, that's what I know as a person and it's kinda time I start actually trying to write like it. so let's just pretend there's a world where POC plus sized hockey wags can exist, mkay? i'm also manipulating some of the other wags of the team, so, that is also happening.

tags/warnings in no particular order: 18+, angst, enemies to lovers, miscommunication, unintentional secrets, insecurity, original female character, WOC character, consensual unprotected sex

word count: ~14,125

(read act one here)

When Mat sleeps, he dreams of Summer.

Mat dreams of her, craves her, wants nothing more than to have and to hold her.

He dreams of the words his captain spoke to him almost a week ago.

I’m telling you not to take this risk. This whole ‘I hate you but now I like you’ risk. And especially not with Summer.

She can’t go through that again.

And whether you want to admit it or not, there’s something between the two of you, and if it goes wrong, it’s going to be really, really bad.

If you’re not serious about her, leave her alone.

He thinks back through all of the horrible things he’d ever said to her, how even though he knew in his heart he was miles ahead of her shitty ex, he still wasn’t the type of person to deserve her, but dammit, that didn’t mean he wasn’t about to try.

Mat knows that he seriously wants Summer. Wants her desperately, has wanted her since the moment they met even though she pushed him away. And he’d wanted just one chance to prove to her that he’d make it worth her while, and he got more than enough.

Except now, it seemed his captain was going to be the one to put a stop to it.

After Mat had slept with Summer and Anders had given Mat his words of warning, the captain backed it up after practice a couple of days later, making it very clear to Mat how he felt about the idea.

“I can see in your eyes you’re not hearing what I said, so I’ll repeat it. Stay away from Summer.”

Mat had blinked at Anders, completely shocked and also thankful they were having this discussion away from the rest of the team.

“What?”

“Stay away, Mat.” Anders repeated, more serious and almost angry. “It’s not that I don’t like you, and it’s not that I don’t think you’re a good person. But you cannot be with Summer. At all.”

Mat bit back his snarky response, instead choosing his words carefully. “Is this about Sabrina?”

Anders shook his head. “This isn’t about Sabrina. This is about Summer.”

“What, are you in love with her or something?”

That was probably the wrong thing to say. Anders’ nostrils flared and he narrowed his eyes at Mat, jabbing a finger into Mat’s chest.

“Listen, Mat. I’ve known Summer since she was sixteen, she’s been my little sister in every sense of the word just as much as she’s been Sabrina’s, and I’ve seen her go through way too much and put up with way too much to allow you to come in just because she’s suddenly single and you’ve suddenly got the notion that you can do better than her ex boyfriend. I’m telling you right now, based on what I’ve seen? How your dynamic works? You can’t. And I don’t want you dating her.”

“That’s not up to you.” Mat said, moving Anders’ hand away. “That’s Summer’s choice. If she wants to be with me, she can be.”

“Then make it her choice not to be with you.” His captain responded, and it was exactly the ultimatum it sounded like. 

“And how do you propose I do that?” Mat bit back sarcastically. 

“You’ve been bickering since you met, and you’ve not done a single thing for her that shows that you care about her, or that you like her. Just because you slept with her once doesn’t mean you’re in love and need to be in a relationship. That’s not how it works.”

Mat scoffed. “Why are you speaking to me like I’m a kid?” 

“Because you’re acting like one.” Anders spat. “You’re acting like a child who thinks he’s in love after one time.”

“What if I’ve loved her the whole time?” Mat countered, completely serious.

Anders didn’t even blink, just laughed and shook his head. “Love? You’re joking, right? None of what you have is love, Mat. It’s not, it never has been, and it never will be. I’m telling you right now, before you take it any further, before it gets too deep. Stay. Away.”

Before Mat could respond, could tell Anders to either go fuck himself or try to plead his case, his captain walked away, and Mat knew in his gut he meant every word.

But…it already is too deep.

And he’s about to disobey his captain.

~

Despite her better judgment, Summer finds herself smiling when she walks into the small cafe shop, seeing Mat tucked into a table in the corner with her favorite iced coffee and favorite breakfast plate already ordered and sitting in front of him alongside his own order.

He’d texted her this morning, almost a week since they’d last seen one another, suggesting that they meet up to talk about what had happened in her room at Sabrina’s house.

When he’d given her the best two orgasms she’d ever had in her life, then asked her not to run, admitted to her that he liked her.

Mat Barzal.

Liked her. 

The thought made her both giddy and confused at the same time, admittedly completely unfamiliar with the rush of butterflies she’d been feeling everytime she found herself thinking about Mat, or reading a text from him.

They hadn’t seen each other since that time in her bedroom, Mat being too busy with pre-season training and practice, and Summer didn’t completely mind it. She had work as well, and was still helping Sabrina and Anders out with their wedding planning. 

Even so, seeing him after a week almost felt like she hadn’t seen him in months, and Summer knew in her heart that was probably something she should pay attention to a little more.

The butterflies, the anticipation, the giddiness - it was all quite a bit considering their history, but there was a part of it that just kind of…made sense?

Sabrina had teased her the night before when she’d been over to help her finalize the floral arrangement details. “It’s like when mom used to tell us that the boys who picked on us only did it because they liked us.”

Summer had laughed a little, and Anders, who had been sitting with them to finalize the boutonniere designs for the men’s tuxedos, had scoffed. “They’re not kids though, babe.”

Anders had seemed…apprehensive, to say the least, about her and Mat, but when Summer had asked him about it, Anders had just said “I’m not worried,” so she left it at that. Whatever it meant.

The closer she got to the table where Mat was sitting though, the more all of her concerns and worries faded away. 

Mat looks up as she approaches, pocketing his phone and giving Summer a wide smile. He stands to greet her, his hands cupping her face and offering her sweet kisses, murmuring how he thinks she looks pretty today in between each peck.

She’s sure she’s blushing beneath the bronze of her skin, and the smile she gives him in return is probably showing just how happy she feels at this moment.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“No need to be sorry princess,” he says. “You’re right on time.”

Summer smiles, taking her seat across from him and taking a sip of her coffee.

Mat watches her with a smile on his face, laying his hand out on the table, palm up. She raises a brow, but puts her hand in his anyway, waiting.

“We should probably talk about all this, shouldn’t we?” He says.

Summer shrugs, “If you want to.”

“I just want to know that you want this, too.” Mat offers, playing with the rings decorating her fingers. “We don’t have to talk, because as far as I’m concerned, if we both want this, then there’s nothing to talk about.”

She assesses Mat quietly as she takes in his words, thinking about the dynamics of their relationship.

“I think we maybe owe it to each other to at least clear the air, don’t you?” 

He nods, thumb rubbing the back of her hand gently. “I’ll start. I never hated you, not even a little bit. You got on my nerves a little, but I never hated you. I think I just acted that way because I thought you hated me first.”

Summer blinks a little, not expecting that right away. “I didn’t hate you, Mat.”

“It kind of felt like it.” He admits, but his eyes are playful, letting Summer know he’s not upset by it.

She thinks back to the day they met. His curious gaze as it ran over her body, how back then she couldn’t handle scrutiny like that from anyone, good or bad, because she could only ever see it as bad. 

A man like Mat looking at a plus size woman of color like Summer didn’t exactly always spell out happy endings.

She’d let her insecurities get the better of her then, let it push them both into something that maybe neither of them wanted. 

But still, they’d gotten here in the end, didn’t they?

“I think I just…I think we got off on the wrong foot.” She admits. “I never hated you either, I think I just felt…unsure.”

“Of me?” 

“Maybe you, maybe myself. I don’t know.” She says.

“Well now that it’s established that we don’t hate each other, and that you know that I like you, how do you feel?”

Butterflies.

Anticipation.

Giddiness.

Like a teenager in love for the first time.

Summer ignores all of that and shrugs playfully. “I suppose I might like you, too.”

The kilowatt smile that breaks out on Mat’s face is one Summer is probably going to remember for the rest of her life. He’s looking at her like she just hung the sun, moon, and the stars in the galaxy, crafting the heavens and given it to him.

“I can work with that.” He says, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing the back of it gently. “I’ll be happy to work with that.”

Her heart hammers in her chest, and as they dig into their breakfast, she can’t help but feel like she should’ve made this decision a lot sooner.

~

Mat wakes up to Summer cuddled against his side, and he quickly silences his alarm, wishing for nothing more than the opportunity to lay in bed with her for the rest of the day - the rest of time at this point.

Carefully, he untangles himself from her, making sure she’s sound asleep and tucked back in while he heads to the bathroom to start getting ready for training and practice. Once he’s brushed his teeth, he heads out and into the kitchen, going about making himself breakfast and getting food ready for Summer for when she wakes up later.

He checks his phone, spotting a text from Anders in the team group chat reminding everyone of the start time today at the facility. 

Mat tries not to get pissed off before the day even starts.

Anders has been nothing but a pain in his ass since he and Summer started seeing one another, almost as if he knows Mat never had any intention of listening to him and knows that Summer’s been in his bed nearly every night since that conversation.

Whatever. Mat doesn’t give a shit.

He’s not a kid, Anders isn’t his dad, and he’s not Summer’s keeper. He and Summer can do whatever they want, and if Anders wants to throw his weight around as captain Mat can handle it, but he’s not giving Summer up.

Once he’s about ready to go, he heads back into his bedroom to grab a hoodie and his gym bag, surprised to find that Summer’s awake, laying on her side, putting her phone down and greeting him with a soft smile when he steps inside. 

Mat’s heart literally nearly leaps from his chest to lay at her side.

Her curly hair rests on the pillow beneath her like a gentle halo, full breasts pushing at the fabric of Mat’s shirt she wore to bed. His shirt’s risen up a little and is showing a glimpse of the skin of her stomach, the blankets pooled a little bit above her waist.

She beckons Mat to her playfully, and he goes easily, climbing onto the bed and kissing her without a second to waste, slightly surprised by the minty taste of her mouth.

“You've been up long?” He murmurs to her, and she shakes her head.

“Maybe about ten minutes or so?” She says. “I thought you’d already left, so I was getting ready to go see Sabrina.”

“More wedding stuff today?” He asks, bending his head and pushing her hair over her shoulder so he can leave soft kisses on her neck.

She nods, letting out content sounds as his lips move. “Yeah, figuring out the seating chart for Anders’ side.”

Mat pauses at that, and pulls back, staring at Summer curiously. She hadn’t mentioned anything about Anders voicing his recent distaste for Mat to her, but still.

“Has he been different towards you? You know, since we…” His voice trails off.

Summer shakes her head. “Not really? He seemed apprehensive about it, but he hasn’t been different. Why? Has he said something to you?”

Mat hesitates, unsure of what and how much to tell Summer.

“He’s…not exactly happy about the two of us at the minute.” Mat begins, but as he speaks, he can see the fire in Summer’s eyes begin to build. Since he’s all too familiar with where that might lead, he immediately backtracks, making the decision to not tell her the whole truth. “It’s fine, just…maybe don’t talk about us in front of or around him for now, okay?”

“Don’t?” Summer asks, and at the fact that Mat can see the fire dissipate for a little, he nods, still careful with his words. 

“Not that I want to keep us a secret, or anything like that, I just don’t want him to say something to you about it, or have him get upset at you. He’s just trying to be a good brother in law, is all, I’m sure. Just let me handle it, okay?”

Summer nods, smiling sweetly. “Okay, I won’t say anything, I promise.”

Mat smiles, kissing her again, not complaining when Summer turns the kiss a little dirty, running her tongue against his lips gently. He pulls away again, quickly checking the time on his phone and smirking when he sees he’s got about fifteen minutes before he absolutely has to leave.

He really only needs five.

When he looks back at her, he’s got a cheshire grin on his face that Summer’s eyes twinkle at. 

“Are you still in the same state you went to bed in?” He asks. 

Summer smiles, nodding. Mat immediately rips the covers off of her, exposing her bare lower half, and Mat’s cock throbs at the memory.

Last night, after they’d showered and gotten ready for bed, Mat had cuddled up against her, wrapped her in his arms and tried very hard to not focus on how soft she felt against him, about how good it felt to have her there, how warm her body was.

She’d rested her leg on his waist, propping herself open, and Mat had dipped his fingers under the blanket to play with her, his sanity completely disappearing when he felt how wet she was for him. He’d torn her underwear off her not long after, fucking her slow and gentle until she shook in his embrace, his name falling from her lips in satisfaction.

Now, he shuffles himself down the bed till he’s nestled between her beautiful thighs, and Summer looks down at him curiously.

“Thought you had to leave for practice?”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” he says. “Plus, this is way more important than practice.”

Summer starts to protest, maybe to say something smart back to him, but whatever her response was going to be dies on her lips the second Mat’s mouth latches onto her skin.

~

Summer feels like she’s practically skipping as she heads into Sabrina’s house, bouncing off the balls of her feet in happiness. 

After Mat had managed to coax about three orgasms out of her just with his mouth and fingers before leaving for practice this morning, she felt like she could just about do anything. Especially with the way he speaks to her the whole time.

She’d enjoyed bickering with him before all of this, but it wasn’t until she reflected on the first two times they’d fooled around that she realized Mat loves dirty talk, and that he’s particularly good at it. 

The second she enters Sabrina’s house though, she shoves those thoughts aside and tries to tone down the happiness, especially with Sabrina staring at Summer like she’s got three heads.

“What are you so chipper about this morning?” Sabrina asks, eyeing her over the rim of her mug as she sips her coffee.

“Nothing,” Summer dismisses all too quickly.

“Mhm,” Sabrina says, raising a brow. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain winger, would it?”

“Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t.” She responds, resting her purse on the counter and going about making a cup of coffee for herself.

“How are you two doing?”

“We’re fine,” Summer says. “Happy.”

“That’s good,” Sabrina says genuinely. “I’m glad. Anders will be happy to know you haven’t killed each other.”

At that, Summer remembers Mat’s words from this morning, and turns to her sister with a slightly serious expression. “Could you maybe…not tell him?”

Sabrina blinks at Summer. “Why?”

“I just…I know how protective he is, and I don’t think he’s a fan of the idea. I just don’t want to put Mat in a bad spot. Could you maybe just…keep it to yourself? About Mat and I?”

“You want me to keep it from my husband that my little sister and his star winger are dating?”

Summer sighs. “Please, Sabi? Just this once, I am asking you not to tell your husband every little thing about your life and mine.”

Sabrina eyes her warily, but agrees. “Alright. But is this because Mat doesn’t want anyone to know you’re dating? Or something else?”

“It’s like I said, Anders is protective, he’s not a fan, and the season’s about to start. I don’t want to put Mat in a bad spot.”

Summer can see that there’s something in Sabrina’s eyes that makes her want to push this more, to understand, but thankfully, she drops it. 

Truthfully, she’s not sure where Anders’ apprehension is coming from, or why, but it’s clear he and Mat are at odds about it, and Summer trusts Mat enough to handle it, and enjoy their time together in the meantime.

~

After practice, as Mat is walking out to his car, he hears Anders’ call his name. Internally, he groans, not wanting to deal with his bullshit right now, but he knows it’s better to just get this over with now so he doesn’t have to put up with it for the rest of the season.

He turns, his face completely deadpan as Anders approaches.

“Did you think about what I said?” Anders asks.

Mat rolls his eyes. “Yeah, been thinking about it non-stop.”

Anders doesn’t look amused. “I wasn’t joking, Mat. I meant it.”

Mat feels the instinct to ball his fists, but he refrains.

He doesn’t care that this is his friend and captain, and doesn't care how long Anders has known Summer. Anders doesn’t get to just rock up and tell Mat who he can and can’t have feelings for. 

Whatever Mat and Summer’s relationship was like in the past is theirs to work through, and if Anders doesn’t like it, then fine.

He doesn’t need to fucking know.

“I’m aware.” Mat says. “I took care of it.”

Anders raises an eyebrow. “Took care of what?”

“We’re not together.” Mat says, the lie slipping easily through his teeth. “We’re not dating, not seeing each other, not falling in love, just like you asked. Your precious sister in law is perfectly fine high in her tower.”

Anders stares at him, probably gauging to see if he’s telling the truth, but Mat’s expression doesn’t falter. After a few moments, Anders visibly relaxes. “You two fought again, didn’t you?”

Mat scoffs. “Maybe we did, maybe we didn’t. That’s not the point. The point is you got what you wanted.”

“It’s for the best, Mat.” Anders insists, reaching out to rest a “captainly” hand on Mat’s shoulder, but Mat steps away, shaking his head.

“Whatever. See you tomorrow.”

Mat gets in his car, pulling out of the team lot and heading home, a smug feeling settling in his chest that Anders has no idea Summer will most definitely be waiting for him when he gets there.

~

“You got a little something on your face, Princess” Mat says, “Riiight…here,” and leaning in, he drops his spoon into his bowl of ice cream, grabs Summer’s face between his hands, and peppers kisses all over her face, working from one corner of her mouth to the other.

Summer giggles wildly beneath his lips, eyes shut tight as she tries to hold onto her own bowl and spoon under the assault of Mat’s kisses. 

She felt like her laugh lines were getting deeper and deeper with each passing day she spent with Mat, wrapped up in his embrace or under the constant receiving end of his affection and attention. It had been a little over a month of this now, this work in progress relationship. 

From what she knew, things between Anders and Mat were still a bit tense, but Mat reassured her that things were fine. It was just Anders finding it difficult to have a teammate date a family member, Mat had explained to her, and that he just needed time to come to terms with it. Summer could understand, so to be safe, and to make it easier on everyone, she continued to avoid speaking about Mat around Anders, and even shared a little less with Sabrina, just in case.

Knowing Sabrina, it only took a couple of glasses of wine for her to spill the beans, so it was better to say less than say more.

There had been a couple of times that they’d all been at Anders and Sabrina’s house, Summer there for wedding things and Mat there for team things, when they’d sneak off and fool around for a little bit with no one being the wiser, but Summer found it more fun than anything.

They’d just gotten back from a dinner date a little bit ago, Mat making them ice cream sundaes to have for dessert before bed after Summer admitted she had a small craving.

Once he finishes his onslaught of kisses, Mat reaches for the canister of whipped cream, spraying a little more onto her bowl and his own before digging back in. 

The TV’s playing a movie on Netflix, and when he turns his attention back to the screen, it brings Summer’s eyes to the time on his DVR box.

“Don’t forget we have dinner tomorrow night at Sabrina and Anders’ house.”

Mat groans. “Their pre-wedding late engagement party thing, right?”

Summer hums in confirmation, taking another bite of her ice cream. “Yeah. They didn’t throw one when they first got engaged since they were in Marbella, so they’re having it now while some of Anders’ family is in town for the home opener.”

“Speaking of the home opener,” Mat says, then puts his bowl down, walking off to his room before coming back, an Islanders Pro Shop bag in his hand. He hands it to Summer, who eyes it warily.

“Is this what I think it is?” She asks.

Mat shrugs, grabbing his bowl and digging back in. “What do you think it is?”

“An Islanders branded dildo?”

Mat chokes in surprise as Summer laughs, enjoying how easy it is to make him flustered.

She turns the bag upside down and is only mildly surprised when the jersey falls into her lap, the bright blue and orange and white staring at her like a neon sign.

“Would you prefer that I wear this?” She asks. “Are you going to ask me to only wear this once we get back home?”

Mat laughs, shaking his head as he puts his finally empty bowl to the side. “You wear whatever you want, baby, however you want to wear it.”

Summer smiles at him, then pauses. “Wearing this to the game probably wouldn’t be a good idea, what with Anders and all.”

Mat frowns. He’d clearly forgotten about that part, but shrugs. He reaches over, playing with the hem of Summer’s dress where it rests against her thigh. “Then I suppose you will have to wear it once we get home.” 

Summer smirks as Mat moves and wraps a hand around her ankle, maneuvering her until she’s laying with her back on the floor, watching him through curious eyes.

“And what else would you propose I wear?” She asks, watching as Mat removes her underwear and then reaches for the whipped cream canister, squirting out a dollop onto her clit.

“Nothing, if we’re being honest.” He says, rearranging himself to lay between her legs. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Princess, it’s a little rude to talk with my mouth full.”

Summer’s giggles dissipate into moans as Mat’s tongue licks away the whipped cream, the fabric of his jersey gripped tightly between her fingers as he enjoys his second dessert.

~

Mat leans back against the sofa in Sabrina and Anders’ living room, a little bit of tension leaving his shoulders now that Anders’ family has left and it’s just a few guys from the team, some of Sabrina’s friends, and Summer left behind. 

Everyone’s settled into the living room to wind down and chat a little before they all head home, and Mat watches as Anders’ has to keep a hand on Sabrina’s waist while she sits down. Summer told him that she’d had three glasses of wine because of how nervous she still got around Anders’ family, but it hardly affected her throughout the night. Now though, it seemed that since his family was gone, the anxiety and nerves were also gone, and the wine was catching up to her pretty quickly.

Summer was the last to make her way into the living room, and after a quick scan, found the only open seat left was next to Mat on the sofa. He was aware of Anders’ stare the entire time Summer made her way over, only breaking away once Summer sat down and Sabrina said something to him.

Mat barely listened to the conversation going on around him, too aware of the fact that Anders was watching them both like a hawk and that he was trying his best to behave. 

At one point, Summer must have started to feel exhausted, because he could hear the way her breathing began to even out, and then, her head gently landed on his shoulder. Tito saw it as well from his spot, and smiled at Mat.

That drew Sabrina’s attention, and she cooed, reaching out to gently wake Summer.

“Been a long day hasn’t it babes?” Sabrina asked, and Summer blinked the sleep out of her eyes.

“Sorry,” she says, then recognizing she’s still leaning against Mat, she blushes, smiling shyly when she repeats “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, trying to seem flippant about it. “I don’t mind.”

“You two are such a cute couple.” Sabrina says through a laugh as she observes them, and the silence that follows is almost deafening.

“Who?” Tito asks stupidly. 

“Summer and Mat, obviously.” Sabrina says, and the second it’s out of her mouth, realization hits and her expression changes.

Damn wine.

“I mean-” Sabrina tries to backtrack, but it’s too late.

“Mathew, can I speak to you for a moment? Outside.” Anders says, his tone of voice making it clear that it’s not a request, but a demand. 

Anders heads out to the backyard, and Summer looks at Mat wearily. “Mat, you don’t-”

“No, it’s okay, Princess.” He promises, pressing a kiss to her temple and ignoring the apologetic look Sabrina tosses his way. He heads out after Anders without another word, walking up to where he’s waiting by the pool bar.

“What the fuck did you do?” Anders demands, pushing Mat the second he gets closer.

Mat finds restraint deep in his well of patience, deciding it would still not be a good idea to punch his captain in the face. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been seeing Summer? This whole time, you’ve been dating?”

“Maybe we have. What does it matter to you?” 

“I told you to stay away from her.” Anders spits, pointing a finger in Mat’s face. “I told you to stay away and you didn’t listen. And you somehow thought hiding this behind my back was a good idea?!”

“And I told you that you didn’t get to tell me who I did and didn’t get to have feelings for.” 

Anders laughs bitterly. “Oh so now it’s feelings? At the beginning of all this you said you were in love with her, and now it’s just feelings? Make up your mind, Mat.”

“I do have feelings for her! I do love her!”

“No you fucking don’t,” Anders spits. “You haven’t loved her a single day since you started sneaking around and lying about this relationship.”

“What else was I supposed to do? You made it very clear you didn’t want me around her and I made it very clear that that wasn’t your choice to make. So I did what you asked and let Summer make the choice for us both.”

“What is he talking about?”

Summer’s voice cuts through the night air like a knife to the gut, and Mat turns to find her staring at the both of them. 

She looks like an angel, hair blowing in the wind, the skirt of her dress flowing out beside her, the backyard lights casting a heavenly glow around her. 

But it’s her face that breaks Mat’s heart. Her face says she heard everything, and even though she’s standing right there, Mat can tell she’s already a million miles away from him. 

God dammit.

He couldn’t catch a fucking break today, could he?

“Summer,” Anders says, using his brotherly voice with her. “Go back inside.”

“No,” she says, and the tone of voice she’s using is one she���s only ever used against Mat when they used to be at odds. 

That used to feel like a lifetime ago, but Mat knows for sure that it’s probably coming back to him sooner than he’d like. 

“Summer-” Anders tries again, but Summer won’t hear it.

“No,” she repeats, taking a step closer to them. “You told him to stay away from me? Tried to stop him from dating me?”

“I was just trying to-” 

Summer holds up a hand, effectively silencing Anders, then turns to Mat. “And you. You said you wanted to keep quiet about us until you and Anders reached an understanding. But really, the whole time, you told him we weren’t seeing each other?”

“Summer, I can explain, I-”

“You said you didn’t want to keep us a secret.” She continues talking like Mat never said a single word. “But really, you just didn’t want to be the one keeping a secret. You wanted me to do it for you.”

The night air is suddenly heavy and silent, Anders and Mat staring at the ground in shame, nothing left to say. 

Summer scoffs bitterly. “Unbelievable.”

The click of her heels on the pavement has Mat’s head snapping up, his feet immediately moving when he sees she’s walking away. Anders is hot on their heels, following as Summer heads back into the house, noticing Sabrina and the others with their attention on Summer as she heads for her purse, then straight for the door.

“Summer?” Sabrina asks, concerned.

Summer says nothing, and Mat calls for her, but she keeps walking.

The three of them follow Summer out to the driveway, and Mat breaks into a sprint then, managing to get in front of her to block her path. 

“Princess please, just listen for a second-”

“Get out of my way, Mathew.” She says.

It’s the tone of voice that almost has him frozen in his spot. There’s no anger, no heat.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Princess, I-”

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry, Summer, I’m so sorry. But you don’t understand, I just wanted us to-”

“It doesn’t matter.” She says, placing a hand on his chest. “I don’t have the energy to deal with this right now. Please move.”

Mat wants to do anything but that, but he knows he probably won’t get anywhere with her about it tonight, so he does as she asks, and steps aside. By the time Anders catches up to them, she’s in her car and backing out of the driveway.

Mat feels like she’s taking his heart with her.

~

Summer sighs, spinning in the mirror and pursuing her lips as she examines the fifth maid of honor gown Sabrina’s managed to coax her into in the last hour. 

They’re at the Vera Wang Bridal House on Fifth Avenue, where Alex, one of Sabrina’s oldest pageant friends and bridesmaids, works as the manager. She’s been diligently helping Sabrina and Summer find the right maid of honor dress with the wedding only a couple of weeks away, and also helping to talk Sabrina out of some of the more less than ideal options.

The dress Summer’s trying on now is in the exact shade of what Sabrina’s been calling “champagne rose gold,” that she picked as one of her wedding colors, a spaghetti strap gown that accentuates Summer’s curves and compliments her shape. 

But it still doesn’t feel…well, like something Summer would wear, at least not as the maid of honor to her sister’s wedding. 

“I don’t know, Sabi,” she mutters, examining the way the silk falls against her body. “I like it, but it could be better.”

She looks in the mirror towards her sister, the bride to be, watching as she frowns, cocking her head to the side. “You’re right. The Lou's nice on you but the color’s a little off.” Sabrina turns toward the rack of dresses, pointing at one of the racks and then turning to Alex, smiling sweetly when she asks “Can we see the Lourdes, the Joelle, the Evelyne, the Diane, and the Vaness?”

Summer blanches. “Not the Vaness.” 

Sabrina raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at her. “Why not?” 

“Sabi,” Summer deadpans. “The v-neck on that dress is deeper than the Mariana Trench. My boobs would be all over the place.”

“Your boobs would look amazing in it.” Sabi insists, turning to Alex. “Right?”

Summer sends Alex a pleading look over Sabrina’s head, and Alex smiles, shaking her head. “Your sister’s at least a 38D and the Vaness can barely hold a 36C. I’d say ax the Vaness, and if you want to see a v-neck option, we can look at the Vanetta and the Varun instead. They’re a little more stable.” 

Sabrina hums, then nods. “Alright, I’ll accept the alternative.” 

“Thank you,” Summer says with a grateful sigh, and Alex sends her a wink before pulling the six gowns off the rack and putting them in Summer’s dressing room before heading back out to join Sabrina.

When Summer shuts the dressing room door, she carefully takes off the gown she has on and puts it back on its hangar before reaching for the next one.

Just as she’s zipping up the Lourdes, her phone vibrates in her purse from where it's resting on the chair beside her. She ignores it, focusing on adjusting the sweetheart neckline and the tulle of the train of the down when it goes off again, and then again, and then again, before it starts to vibrate with the frequency of a phone call.

She assumes it’s their father, calling on behalf of their mother to pester Summer for details on the fitting since Sabrina probably won’t answer.

Sabrina and their mom had gone shopping for her ‘mother of the bride’ dress last week and Sabrina was not pleased after her mother insisted on needing three dresses - one for the ceremony, one for the cocktail hour, and one for the reception. Sabrina was still a little upset, and their dad had been playing the middle man ever since.

Fussing with the zipper with one hand, and reaching blindly in her purse for her phone with the other, Summer answers her phone without even looking, immediately saying “Tata, okay naman kami. You don’t have to keep calling, just tell mom I’ll send her a picture of my dress when I’m done. Lalo lang itong makakainis kay Sabrina.”

From outside her dressing room, she can hear Sabrina snort in agreement. 

There’s a small pause on the other line, and for a second Summer worries that she’d been on speakerphone and their mother was about to scream down the line, but then she hears someone clear their throat before they say “I uh…I’m not your dad, and I didn’t understand a lot of that.”

Summer blinks, her heart plummeting to her stomach. She lets go of the zipper of the dress that she’d finally managed to pull up, then slowly pulls her phone away from her ear. When the screen lights up, and the contact name “13” shows up on her phone, she gasps in part shock and part anger, the phone slipping from her hand and clattering to the hardwood floor of her dressing room.

She wasn’t expecting that.

He’d been silent these last couple of weeks, giving her space after everything that had happened, so him calling so suddenly was…strange. 

And Summer was definitely not prepared to speak to him today. Especially when she hadn’t sorted out how she felt and how she’d go about handling this ridiculous situation.

The noise alerts Alex and Sabrina, who Summer can hear scramble to their feet before they start knocking on the door. 

“Summer,” Sabrina calls. “Are you okay in there?”

“Do you need help?” Alex offers.

Summer takes a deep breath, trying to calm her sudden racing heart and staring at her phone in total offense. She can hear Mat going “Hello? Summer?” and prays Sabrina and Alex can’t hear him at all.

“I’m fine,” Summer croaks out. “Just dropped my phone.”

She quickly bends down, grabbing her phone and ending the call, turning off her phone, and tossing it back into her purse. Quickly, she looks in the mirror, adjusting the dress one final time and fixing her hair. 

There’s a slight flush to her cheeks, and she schools her facial expression, pointing at her reflection in the mirror as if to say “Get your shit together,” before squaring her shoulders and opening the door.

“What about this one?” Summer asks, pasting on her best “nothing to see here” smile. 

Sabrina and Alex exchange suspicious glances, and Summer promptly ignores them.

And also especially ignores the way her heart hasn’t stopped pounding in her chest since hearing Mat’s voice.

~

Mat looks down at his phone one more time, then back at Summer’s building. 

He hadn’t seen her since everything that had gone down at Sabrina and Anders’ place, and she’d been ignoring his texts and calls, save the one she definitely didn’t mean to answer the other day.

Part of him knows it’s because she’s probably upset at him and Anders for lying to her, but before, when she was upset, he was used to her arguing with him, with her still being around.

All this space and silence was new, and he didn’t like it at all.

As he approaches the front of her building, nerves start to creep in. 

What the fuck am I doing here?

The more he wondered, the more he was afraid, the more he thought about her. And the more he thought about her, the more she got under his skin, the more she invaded his dreams, the more he knew he couldn’t waste another second without seeing her, or feeling her one more time.

No matter how badly he may have fucked up. 

There’s a buzz, a loud one, that snaps him back into reality, and he’s surprised when “Come on up!” from Summer's cheery voice greets his ears.

He hears another buzz and the snick of the doors unlocking, so he rushes in without a second thought, taking the elevator to Summer’s floor. 

When he gets to her door, he knocks tentatively, noticing she’s got some door decoration hanging over her peephole, and Mat feels his gut churn irritably. 

“Coming!” Summer calls, and Mat’s heart suddenly starts to thunder in his chest. 

Hold the fuck up. Is she expecting someone?

Blood starts to boil in his veins.

She let me in without even knowing who I was.

He can hear her footsteps getting closer to the door.

Is she…is she going on a date?

The thought is irrational, he knows, but he can’t help but worry about it anyway.

There’s a distinct shattering sound that echoes in his ears. Before he even debates if he has the right to think that, let alone even think of asking it, the door opens and Mat’s eyes are graced with the stunning reality of Summer’s natural beauty.

She’s wearing an oversized graphic t-shirt that has him questioning if she’s even wearing pants, and her long beautiful curls are down, stray curls framing her face, and then those chocolate eyes are staring at him in disbelief and he just-

Fuck.

“Hi.” He breathes, heart in his stomach.

God damn she’s so fucking beautiful.

“Mat?” Summer asks, like she doesn’t believe what’s in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” He begins. “I know it’s been a minute, but-”

“It’s been almost three weeks, actually,” Summer deadpans. “And now isn’t a good time.”

“Expecting someone else?” He all but interrogates, venom quickly seeping into his voice. It’s too easy with Summer, too easy to slip back into their little game, no matter how much he doesn’t want to.

But apparently Summer doesn’t want to either. She gives no indication that she’s heard him, no obvious tell that his irritation is irritating her right back. Her full lips don’t move, remain stoic and perfect and plump and-

God does he want to kiss her.

“Yes, actually.” She tells him. “I have friends coming over, and-”

Mat goes to her before he can think about it. He’s moving into her space, backing her into her apartment and kicking her door shut behind him before he takes her in his arms, spinning them around to press her back into the door and then sinking his hands into her hair, pulling her head back, and kissing her like his life depends on it.

For a moment, time stands still when his lips meet hers. He feels like his universe was knocked off its axis without her, and being close to her again, it’s like everything falls back into place. 

All the tension, all the worry, all the “will she, won’t she,” it all falls away and disappears. 

The only thing that matters is Summer.

Relief instantly floods his veins when he feels her relax against him, when her hands land on his shoulders, and it dissipates just as quickly when she puts just enough pressure under her hands and pushes him away.

Mat backs up, hands dropping away from her altogether, even though his fingertips tingle with the need to reach for her, to bring her back.

Summer looks angry.

“No.” She says firmly. “Absolutely not.”

No no no no no he thinks. Panics.

“Summer, I-” He begins, watching her walk past him and moves further into her living room. 

“No, Mathew. You don’t do what you did and show up here and kiss me and expect me to just forgive you.”

“I’m sorry, I just meant to-”

“I know what you meant. But you still shouldn’t have done it.” Summer spits, all fire and brimstone. “You can’t come here and kiss me like I’m still your dirty little secret.”

“What?” He shakes his head, staring at Summer in disbelief. “You’re not my dirty little secret, Summer. That’s not what this was at all.”

“Yeah,” she rolls her eyes. “Okay.”

“I wanted to tell you the truth,” he insists, swearing, “I just…I just couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t tell me that Anders tried to enforce some stupid rule you didn’t need to listen to because you’re both grown men? Couldn’t tell me that he was being overprotective and that he told you you couldn’t be with me? Couldn’t tell me that you didn’t have the guts to tell him no to his face? What of any of that ‘couldn’t’ you do, Mat?”

Mat frowns. “He’s my captain, Summer.”

“What the fuck does that mean to me? He’s my brother in law. I could’ve handled him on my own, spoken to him and told him to back the fuck off, and Sabrina would’ve told him the same. Instead you made it sound like he knew the whole time but was just having trouble accepting it.”

“You’re right. I handled it terribly, and I’m sorry.”

She stares at him for a second, then nods. “Okay, I accept your apology, now get out.”

His stomach bottoms out. “What?”

“Just leave, Mat.” She says, shaking her head and pointing at her front door behind him. “Just leave.”

He doesn’t know what else to say, doesn’t know what else to do, so he just nods, doing exactly as she asks.

~

Mat lets out a frustrated groan, dropping down to the ice to lay on his back, pain running through his bones as he shuts his eyes.

He can hear a teammate skating closer to where he lays, before feeling the blade of a stick poke him in the side. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Isn’t that the fucking question of the day?

It had been a week since she’d kicked him out and no matter what he did, he couldn’t get the look on her face out of his head, and he couldn’t escape the lingering tingle on his lips after kissing her after spending so much time away from her. 

The reality is that he had Summer, and then he didn’t. And though to everyone else it should seem like that’s normal, that they’ve always been at odds and don’t like each other, it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Mat never hated Summer at all, and he never wanted to keep her a secret, but he thought that was his only option, the only way to go about finally being able to have her.

And he still ended up losing her anyway. 

“Nothing.” Mat mutters, keeping his eyes shut and trying to focus on the freezing surface beneath him, wiggling his toes in his skates.

“Looks like something.” He hears Tito mutter as he skates closer. “You’re skating like shit today.”

“Thanks for that babe.” Mat deadpans. “Appreciate it.”

“Did you get dumped or something?” Tito asks again.

Mat’s eyes fly open at that, and he lolls his head to the side to glare at him. “Not so fucking loud, dingus.”

“Well is it true or not?” His best friend presses. 

“I don’t even know if we were officially together in the first place.”

Across the ice, a loud voice echoes. “You’re not gonna be together in the future either if you don’t get your shit together.”

Mat finds himself shooting up into a sitting position, head spinning to look at his captain, who’s already looking at him with a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Anders’ mouth presses together in a firm line as he skates closer to Mat and Tito, and when he’s close enough, he jabs Mat in the leg with the blade of his stick. “It means you need to apologize, you idiot.” 

Mat just stares at him. “Thought you said you didn’t want me to be around her?”

“I said I didn’t want you to be around her if you weren’t serious about her. You moping around the locker room, skating like shit, acting like you just got divorced - that tells me that I was wrong about all of this, and that shit might be a little serious.”

Mat stays silent. He’s not exactly sure what to tell his captain at this point. A week ago it would’ve been “Fuck you very much,” but he’s pretty sure Anders is trying to…apologize?

He assesses him carefully, then it clicks. “Summer and Sabrina chewed you out, huh?”

Anders doesn’t look impressed. “I got what was coming to me. Looks like you did, too.” 

Well that he couldn’t deny. 

“I tried to apologize.” Mat admits. “She told me to take a hike.”

Anders scoffs. “Did you expect anything less? And since when do you back down from arguing with her?”

“Like you said, shit’s pretty serious. So…yeah. I backed down and I left when she told me to.”

Tito taps Mat in the leg with his skate gently. “You love her?”

Mat hesitates to answer, not because he’s not sure. He’s pretty sure he does, almost certain, but he’s never said it, not really shown it, and he isn’t sure if Anders is still after his head, so he stays quiet.

Anders sighs. “What do you feel for her, exactly?”

Mat can put it into words, but as he thinks about it, it might not be the best explanation.

I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with Summer since the day I met her, but she hated me on sight, so I pretended to hate her too. Except then I realized that she actually liked me, and now because I’ve been an idiot I think she actually hates me. And I still think I might be in love with her anyway.

…to be fair, that didn’t sound so bad.

Except, when Mat says those exact words out loud to Anders, silence falls around them, and he realizes several of their teammates, including Tito, were in hearing range, and now everyone’s staring at Mat like they’re waiting for him to disintegrate right in front of them.

“I uh…” Mat begins, falters for a second. “I just mean…”

“I know what you mean.” Anders says, nodding. “You should probably tell her all that yourself though, yeah? Preferably soon. Wedding’s next week, and Sabrina and I are going on our mini honeymoon during the Thanksgiving break, so…do with that what you will.”

Without another word, Anders skates away, and only after Mat casts a scathing look to the rest of his eavesdropping teammates do they follow suit, except for Tito.

Tito shakes his head, tapping Mat’s side with the blade of his stick. “Get your shit together,” he insists, before he skates away too.

Mat sighs, laying back on the ice and letting the cold settle into his bones. 

~

Sabrina and Anders had a beautiful wedding.

Truly, really, they did. 

Summer’s heart ached with happiness for her sister. 

It was everything Sabrina had wanted, everything she’d worked hard to plan, and through all the stress and breakdowns her older sister had, she was finally married and had the wedding of a lifetime to enjoy and look back on.

And since she and Anders had managed to resolve their issues, she was genuinely happy for him again, too. 

She had a feeling she’d find it hard to remain upset at both Mat and Anders, considering the more time she had to think about it, and remembered that men were in fact, stupid, thanks to Sabrina, she did understand both their perspectives. 

Anders had known her since she was sixteen and had seen her struggle with her self love, seen her date shitty people, and witnessed every second of her and Mat arguing like their lives depended on it. He was just looking out for her, wanting to protect her and make sure she didn’t go through something like that again, and especially not with someone Anders was friends and teammates with. He had to be around Mat on a frequent basis, and if it went bad between her and him, he would’ve had to tiptoe around them both awkwardly.

Except none of that was his to worry about, or even something Summer expected of him, which he understood now. 

The part that had Summer tripped up was the fact that Mat had explicitly said he didn’t want to keep Summer a secret, and how she’d understood, but he ended up keeping her a secret too, and she unknowingly helped him. 

Realistically, she did forgive Mat, but she also knows she should’ve been able to move on from it just as easily as she did with Anders. Maybe it was the fact that she expected more from Mat, considering how…intimate they were, but deep down she knew it was just her insecurities rearing their ugly head again.

Before it was the disbelief that he’d been looking at her in appreciation the first time they met, and now it was the uncertainty that he was only doing what he thought was the right thing to do at the moment. That he didn’t keep her a secret from anyone other than Anders and that he didn’t think she was enough to be shown off to the world.

Rationally, she knew it wasn’t anything, that she should be able to just move past it. But irrationally, Summer felt like it was still too good to be true.

Besides, they’d never actually said anything other than that they liked each other. It wasn’t like they’d fallen for one another. 

Okay…maybe that’s not entirely true. Summer knew she’d started to, especially the more time they spent together, the more they’d slowly gotten to know one another. 

But they never said anything to each other, so…

She’d managed to steer clear of him so far throughout the wedding, avoiding his gaze and purposely putting herself on the opposite side of the room. Right now, she was at the bar, waiting for the bartender to make her a margarita and watching where Sabrina and Anders were greeting their guests.

It was only when she realized after a moment that she didn’t see Mat anywhere that she had a feeling avoiding him wouldn’t be possible much longer.

“Do you think there’s more legs in the world? Or eyes?”

Despite the fact that she’d been expecting him, the absurd yet intriguing question has Summer turning her head to the right, and Mat stands there with a lopsided smile that spells mischief. 

Her heart collides into her ribcage in a painful throb. It’s been almost a month since she’s seen Mathew last. He looks just as good, is everything she remembers and desperately tries to forget in the same breath.

Before she can help herself, the corner of her mouth quirks up in a small smile, and she leans against the bar a little, shaking her head. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Got your attention, didn’t I?”

She wants to roll her eyes, but refrains, turning her attention back to the bar, grabbing her drink from the bartender with a polite “thank you,” and dropping a five dollar bill in the tip jar next to her elbow. 

As she starts to walk away, Summer can feel Mat fall into step with her, and even though she doesn't want for it to happen, her body stiffens, unease seeping into her bones at his proximity.

“I didn’t know if you’d show up to the reception or not.” He confesses, the charm slipping away from his tone.

She shrugs, nonchalant. “It’s my older sister’s wedding. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d do it to avoid me. Or if you finally decided that you hated me.”

His confession almost makes her falter in her steps. Almost.

“That’s a bit dramatic, considering I remember that I told you that I never hated you in the first place.” She practically bites out, quickening her steps a little.

“Could’ve fooled me. I mean I never saw you after you kicked me out.”

“I’ve been right here.”

“It felt like you were on another planet.”

This time she does stop in her tracks, turning to face him. “What do you expect me to say, Mat? I’m not exactly happy about what happened. I know you apologized, and I get it, I just…I need time to come to terms with it, okay?”

Summer can see Sabrina approaching over his shoulder, and she shakes her head slightly, letting Sabrina know that she can handle this. Thankfully, she nods, and moves to make conversation with another table of her guests. 

Mat looks at Summer then, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Tell me what I can do to help then. What do I have to do to make this right? Tell me how to fix this.”

She shakes her head, taking a step back. “You can’t,” she says, already retreating. “You just can’t.”

His eyes burn into her back as she leaves, and heads back to her seat. She’s determined to stay out of Mat’s way and keep her eyes away from his for the rest of the night, no matter how much her heart twists in her chest.

~

Mat stuffs one hand in the pocket of his hoodie, the other one clutching the bouquet of roses as he crosses the street, approaching Summer’s building for the first time since she kicked him out.

He felt like a bit of a stalker, showing up to her place unannounced again, but he felt like he didn’t know what else to do. 

He’d tried asking Anders for advice, and the only thing his captain did was remind Mat that he and Sabrina were leaving on their mini honeymoon, and to take care of it before they got back.

So…this was him fixing it himself. Or trying to anyway. 

It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to actually work up the courage to press the call button to her apartment building. This time, when he presses it, instead of Summer letting him up immediately, there’s a small pause, before her soft voice comes through the speaker.

“Mat?”

He pauses, waving awkwardly at the little camera. “Hi.”

Another pause, then he hears Summer sigh. “You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”

“Probably not, no.” Mat answers honestly, running a hand through his hair. 

There’s silence, and then the building door buzzes and Mat pauses for a second too long before heading through it, and up to Summer’s apartment. 

He only manages to knock once before the door flies open and reveals Summer standing there in jeans, a white tank top, and a black cardigan over it, her feet in fuzzy socks and even fuzzier house slippers. 

Still, she looks so fucking beautiful.

Summer has a look on her face that he can’t read, and that in itself scares the shit out of him. He’s experienced every single one of Summer’s emotions, been the target of a few of them too many times to count, but this one is…

Different.

“For you,” he forces himself to say, handing the roses out to her. “As an apology. Or, the start to one.”

Summer eyes the roses, and for a split second Mat thinks he can see the corner of her mouth quirk up in a little smile, but then it’s gone. She takes the roses from him hesitantly, cradling them in her arms and staring at them for a second.

Mat hovers in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

Summer clears her throat, deciding for the both of them. “Are you just going to loiter in my hallway, thirteen? Or do you want to come in?” 

The urge he used to instinctively have to roll his eyes is gone, and instead all he can do is nod, crossing over the threshold when she steps aside to let him in. 

He toes off his shoes by the door, following her inside. He waits while she puts the roses in a vase, looking at the art on her walls.

When she comes back, they sit on the couch, and Mat takes a small breath.

“Maybe I should go first this time,” Summer says suddenly. He nods, waiting patiently, and she sighs. 

“I want to start off by saying that I do forgive you, and that I do understand where you and Anders were coming from, no matter how ridiculous. I think the thing that's kept me upset is that I couldn't tell for myself whether or not you kept me a secret for you, or for Anders.”

“It was for Anders,” he swears. “I would never keep you a secret, Summer. I swear.”

“Okay,” she nods, accepting his answer. “Then with that being said, I don’t want to completely put you on the spot, but what exactly is this?”

“This?” Mat asks, confused.

“You and I,” Summer says. “What are we? Because I’m going to be honest, I’m not really sure.”

“Well, I would like to say you’re my girlfriend, but we didn’t really establish that.” He hesitates, gauging her reaction. “Would you…would you agree that we were dating?”

Summer nods. “Yeah, I thought we were. I thought you were my boyfriend.”

Mat really doesn’t like the past tense she’s using, but ignores it. “Is there anything that's stopping you from thinking that I still am?”

“I just don't know that I'm clear on how you feel, and I would prefer we lay our cards out on the table now.”

“Okay,” he says, turning his body towards her. “That first day that we met, I’d spotted you before I even realized who you were. You came inside with Sabrina, and I could see you from where I was in the kitchen. I was staring at you when you met me, admittedly for probably a long time, because from that very first second, I thought you were beautiful, and I wanted to get to know you.”

Mat can see Summer’s surprised by his admission, but he continues. “I’ve always liked you, and I’ve always been interested, but I was under the impression that you didn't like me, so I just followed your lead. I was jealous of your ex, I was jealous of that random dude from the club, and it was because this whole time I felt like I'd ruined my chances before I even had one. When you were finally single, and we slept together for the first time, it felt like I finally did have that chance, but then Anders stepped in and…well you know the rest.” 

Summer’s quiet for a second, observing him, and then she nods. “I knew who you were when we met, it was kind of hard not to. I thought you were cute and I was excited to meet you, but then when I caught you staring, I got insecure. I thought you were judging me, and that's why I shut you out and didn't let you in at first.” 

Mat’s heart shatters in his chest. 

How could you not see I thought you were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen? He wants to ask her, How could you not see you had me in the palm of your hands that very first day?

“I thought that there was no way that you would be interested in someone like me, so I put up a wall and thought it would be better to keep you at a distance. I didn't really intend for us to bicker for as long as we did.” Summer admits.

She takes a deep breath, fiddling with her own hands. “When I was with my ex, I was genuinely with him, and then when I wasn't, and you and I slept together, I was genuinely into you. I had a feeling that it might be complicated between you and Anders, and when you suggested not telling him anything at first, I understood, and I still understand, but I'm still having a hard time in my head trying to convince myself that you weren't trying to be malicious.” 

Mat moves to reassure her, but the soft smile she gives him stops him. “I know that you weren't, but like I said, that's for me to convince myself of and not you.”

“So…not that I have selective hearing, I’m just trying to get this right. Do you have feelings for me?” Summer laughs softly at his question, but nods, so he continues. “And I have feelings for you. And you forgive me for what happened?” 

Summer nods again, “I do.”

“Okay…then…” Mat trails off, unsure of how this is supposed to go. 

“Then?”

“Are we…okay?” He asks.

“We’re okay,” Summer says, nodding. There’s a moment where Mat’s relieved, where he feels like he can breathe again, but then she says “But I don’t know if we should get back together. Or…get together, however you want to put it.”

Mat’s heart thumps hard in his chest. “What?” 

“Not today. Not right now.” She says, a small shake in her head. “I think…don't you think we need to take a step back?” 

“What about a step at a time?” He offers. 

Summer blinks. “What?”

“You said we shouldn’t get back together today, and I can see your point. Not today. But maybe…maybe we can just take this a day at a time?”

“Mat…” Summer hesitates, completely unsure. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know. Not right now. That’s why we can take it a day at a time.”

She eyes him quietly, a million emotions flitting across her face as the seconds pass between the two of them. “What would you even do? Where would we even start?”

“Coffee.” Mat says immediately. “Just coffee. Nothing more, nothing less. Just let me buy you a coffee.”

Summer’s quiet, and for a second, Mat worries she’s going to say no, but then her shoulders relax, and she nods. “Okay, coffee sounds good.”

~

Three Months Later

“You just wanted me close to a knife when it was in your hand, didn’t you?”

Summer shakes her head with a small laugh, turning the knife around in her hand so she holds the blade between her fingers, placing the handle in Mat’s hand. He takes it, but the hesitancy is still in his gaze, so she idles up beside him, bumping his hip a little before focusing on the kitchen counter.

Mat had admitted that he hadn’t tried Filipino food before when Summer and Sabrina had gone to visit their parents in New Jersey, so she’d offered to cook for him only on the condition he helped out.

Their father, Sonny, had come from the Philippines as a child with their grandparents. Their mother, Shauna, who’d grown up in the Bronx, lost her parents by the time she’d married their dad, and so the girls had mostly grown up with the Maldonado family.

Their grandmother, Soledad - the “S” naming tradition in the family ran deep - had taught the girls how to cook staple dishes when they were young, so Summer could make this in her sleep.

She’d already gone through the meticulous and thorough process of showing Mat how to wash rice and correctly measure for the correct amount of water, and that was currently bubbling away in the rice cooker on her kitchen counter. 

Now, she was going to walk him through making the marinade for probably the easiest dish to introduce Mat to when it came to Filipino cuisine - chicken adobo.

“Okay, so I’m going to cut up the onion, but I need you to mince the garlic. We have eight cloves here, and you’re going to take a piece of garlic and put it under your blade,” she instructs, grabbing one of the extra cloves of garlic she’d put aside for practice, and moving it to her board. She places her blade right on top and waits until Mat’s done the same.

“Good, now don’t hesitate, just bring the meat of your fist, pinky side down, onto the back side of the blade, and smash the clove. Just be sure you’re holding the handle of the knife firmly, like this,” Summer says, then brings her hand down, listening to the blade and the satisfying crunch of the garlic clove beneath it.

Mat follows suit on his own clove, and of course, because he’s apparently good at everything, gets it right on the first try. He smiles shyly anyway, waiting for her confirmation, to which she smiles, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Perfect.”

Mat beams at the praise. “Really?”

“Yeah, so just do that to the other seven, and it’ll be easier to chop those up. Think you can handle it?”

He nods, reaching for another clove, and Summer tosses him the one on her board before grabbing the onion. 

They work in a silent tandem, and Summer chances a look at him to find his tongue peeking out from between his lips in concentration.

It makes her heart twinge with something she isn’t totally ready to come to terms with.

They’d been doing this…thing…taking it a day at a time, for the last few months. Mat had taken her out on countless dates, focusing on romancing her the way he would have had they not gotten off on the wrong foot. There had been some sex, not a lot, but whenever they did have sex, it was always intense, and Mat always made a point to reassure Summer every chance he got, in bed and out of it, that he thought she was beautiful, kind, and everything he ever wanted.

Outside of that, Mat had taken her to meet his parents and his sister, and even joined her on her bi-weekly Saturday visits to Anders and Sabrina’s home for family dinners. The captain and his winger were still working on repairing that whole mess, but it was getting better, for the most part. 

And now he was here. In her kitchen. Learning how to make her Lola’s chicken adobo. 

When she finished with the onion, she tossed everything into a pan with a little vegetable oil, placed it on the stove and fired up the burner. She grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, then brought it over to Mat for him to dump in his minced garlic. 

“Pretty good there, thirteen.” She says before guiding him to the sink to wash and dry their hands. 

“Okay, now what do I do?” 

Summer smiles, pointing at the ingredients next to the stove. There’s shoyu, vinegar, brown sugar, black pepper, chicken stock, peppercorns, and bay leaves. “I need you to measure out the ingredients on the card by the bottles and put them in that little bowl next to it.”

“What? I’m on measuring duty?” He asks, wrinkling his nose with a frown.

Summer leans up and kisses his nose before backing away. “It’s because you’re meticulous, so I trust you.”

He blinks after her kiss, then nods, heading over to his new station with a little more pep in his step.

Summer stirs the onions around since they’ve already started to cook, then grabs the minced garlic and tosses it in before heading to the fridge. 

Her Lola’s recipe is usually meant as dinner for two, so she had six pieces of chicken thighs rinsed and pat dry set aside specifically for dinner tonight. Bringing the plate out of the fridge and over to the pan, she grabs a pair of tongs and places each piece skin side down once the onions and garlic get fragrant, allowing them to brown a bit. 

She double checks on Mat’s progress, only to find him already done, marinade measuring and poured in the bowl, and his eyes on Summer, watching her with a cheshire smile.

“Look at you,” she muses, going easily to him when he opens his arms, wrapping her own around his waist. “Hope you’re not too attached to your diet.” She teases. 

Mat scoffs. “As if.”

“You’re right,” Summer agrees, running her hands under his shirt and caressing the hard muscle of his abdomen. “You don’t really need it.”

She feels him flex under her fingers and she laughs, looking up to find him smirking down at her, the heat in his eyes evident. “Well I kinda need it, gotta stay in shape to keep up with you at night.”

As if to remind her, her body’s muscles choose that moment to remind her of their ache, and Summer flushes, pushing away from Mat to head back to her place on the stove. 

“Well,” she begins, flipping the chicken over. “I appreciate your dedication. Can you bring over the marinade?”

He nods, grabbing the bowl and carefully idling up beside her. 

“Okay, now you’re just gonna pour it over everything, but make sure you cover each piece of chicken when you go.” She watches as Mat follows her instruction, and once he’s done, she shakes the pan a little, lowers the temperature a smidge, then covers it with a lid.

“Now what?” He asks, looking around. She’d already washed and set the rice to cook in the rice cooker on her counter, but he didn’t see any additional food lying around.

“Well, we have to let it cook for about fifteen minutes, and then we add the finishing touches, and then we eat!”

She ushers him back toward the stove to wash their hands again. It was something she’d learned as a kid, washing her hands after every step in cooking, and she hoped Mat didn’t think it was weird or strange.

He didn’t seem to mind though, going easily along and washing and drying his hands beside her without complaint.

“So…we have fifteen minutes to ourselves?” He asks, setting up a timer on his phone. 

Summer raises a brow at him in suspicion. “Yes…why?”

Mat smirks, leaning with his hip against the sink when he reaches for Summer. “Cause I’ve been thinking about eating your pussy since this morning. Can I?”

He takes her in his arms before she can answer, and then he’s kissing her neck, hands wrapping around her waist and down to her ass, palming the flesh in his hands. She moans a little when his teeth nip at her neck, and she has to push him away to be able to back up and out of his space. “Mat, we shouldn’t, we-”

“Please baby,” he pleads, taking a step and crowding her back against the counter. “Just this once?” She feels his hands creep at the hem of her dress - the easiest thing to wear around him, especially when they tend to have moments like this - his fingers bunching it up to her stomach when he drops to his knees. 

Summer finds herself automatically grabbing the material between her fingers, nodding her head and lifting her hips away from the counter for Mat to pull her underwear down her legs. She doesn’t miss the smile that crosses his face when he runs the lace through his fingers, and stuffs the fabric in the pocket of his jeans.

“Jump up on the counter, baby.” He says, waiting for Summer to settle onto the counter before pulling her forward, her butt resting on the edge of the counter. Mat grabs one of her barstools from the other side and places it right in front of her before taking a seat, pressing “start” on the timer on his phone.

He feels like he could drool a little at the sight of her open and bare for him, the prettiest shade of pink shining at him like a neon sign saying “just for you.”

Not another second passes before he’s burying his face into her pussy, Summer letting out a blissful and content sigh as her body relaxes and Mat settles her feet on his shoulders, gently circling his hand around her ankles and encouraging her to wrap her legs around his head, to pull him in closer.

She doesn’t, not right away, anyway, too wrapped up in the feeling of Mat’s tongue. He squeezes her ankle once, trying to get her attention, and all Summer can manage is to loll her head to the side to peek at him. He rises up a little, speaking against her skin, not wanting to be too far from her.

“Wrap those beautiful legs around my head, baby.”

All she can manage is a nod, and Mat returns to his task, moaning when her warm thighs touch either side of his face, his shoulders under her knees and her beautiful calves resting on his back. He can feel when she locks her ankles behind him and he settles in closer, relaxing against her as his mouth continues to devour her pussy, her arousal dripping down his chin.

He feels her nails scratch against his scalp when her hands dive into his hair, fingers gripping his curls and lightly tugging. Mat knows those tugs by heart now, which one means to keep going, which ones mean to ease up, which ones mean she’s loving it and not to stop or she’ll kill him.

“Mat,” she whimpers, her thighs squeezing his head and he nods, bringing his hands up to squeeze her breasts, loving when her hands cover his, holding onto him. 

He says nothing, just focuses on keeping his pace and the way Summer’s body reacts to his mouth, beginning to feel her start to shake under him as she gets closer and closer to her orgasm.

Right when Mat thinks she’s going to grip his hair tighter, letting him know that she’s about to come, she suddenly sits up, pushing him back gently.

“Baby?” He asks, confused.

“Get up,” she says, and he’s up and off the stool in a second, approaching her carefully. He’s only a little surprised when she reaches for the waistband of his jeans, making quick work of the button and the zipper. By the time Mat’s brain catches up to him and finally understands what Summer wants, she’s got her hands in the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down while Mat’s cock springs free.

He watches as her pupils blow out wide, and smirks a little. Gently, he places a finger under her chin, coaxing her gaze back to his face. He kisses her a couple of times while crowding into her space, resting his cock against her soaked pussy while she chases the taste of herself on his tongue. 

Mat grips her waist, pulling her a little further to the edge of the counter, gently moving his hips. 

“Needy girl,” he playfully chastises. “Won’t even let me finish eating that pretty pussy because you’re so desperate for cock.” 

Her eyes flash up at him, her playful spitfire in her eyes at his dirty talk. Mat’s found out that this is the kind of push and pull she prefers most, when he teases her or says dirty things and she can fight him back on it in a way that doesn’t cost them both. 

Mat can see that she wants to talk back, but she bites her lip to refrain herself. 

“Use your words pretty girl,” he says, grinding his cock against her. “Ask me nicely.”

“Please give me your cock,” Summer replies obediently. “I need it.”

Mat smiles, murmuring a soft “Good girl,” then he’s moving his hips back until the tip of his cock catches at her entrance and pushes in slowly, watching Summer’s face the whole time.

He loves this part, loves watching the way her whole body relaxes, watching the way her eyes flutter shut and her beautiful mouth parts just a little as her body welcomes him. He leans forward, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss as he bottoms out, waiting for her to adjust to him.

He’s learned he loves that part, too - how no matter how many times they’ve done this so far, she always seems to need a minute to adjust to him. But whenever she did, she took him so well that they could go at it over and over again till their muscles were sore.

While he waits for her to adjust, he takes a quick glance over at her stove, then at his phone, checking the time. Nothing’s burning, but he’s still only got about five or so minutes left.

Mat turns back to her, bending his head and burying his face into Summer’s neck, leaving filthy open mouthed kisses, speaking in between. 

“Are you okay if we make this quick? Since we are cooking and all.”

That seems to bring her back to reality just a little, because he can feel her nod, and then she’s locking her ankles behind his back again, pulling him in closer - her usual sign that she’s ready for whatever Mat gives her.

He carefully pulls back before pushing back in, setting a pace he knows is enough to bring Summer to orgasm in no time. Summer lays back on the counter, and Mat’s hands immediately go to her breasts, cupping them through the material before yanking it down, smirking to himself when he finds she’s not wearing a bra.

Mat leans down, sucking a nipple into his mouth and drawing a soft whine from Summer’s lips. A whine that tells him that she’s definitely going to come in no time if he keeps it up.

He laps at her skin with his tongue, sucking at her skin as his hips piston in and out of her, moaning when he feels her squeeze down on him as her breath catches in her throat. Her back bends and he keeps his pace, his own orgasm quickly approaching as Summer comes around him, squeezing his cock in a vice grip and wrapping her legs tighter around his waist. 

He comes a few seconds later, buried deep inside and his mouth still latched to her, tongue soothing over the now bruised skin. 

His favorite part is this, the moment right after they fuck - how she seems so content to just lay there with him and let him hold her, let him stay inside her till he’s either ready to go again or ready to help clean her up or drag them both to the shower.

They catch their breath for a moment, Mat just staring down at her, admiring her beautiful curves, her full breasts, the curve of her belly. He traces his hands down her stomach, gently caressing her skin, rubbing at where he’s still buried inside her.

Her breath catches in her throat at the same time the timer goes off on his phone, and they both jump, Mat slipping out of her suddenly, and they both hiss at the loss.

“Well,” Summer says through a small sigh, “Looks like lunch is ready.”

Mat frowns. “But I already ate?”

Summer blinks at him, and when he smirks playfully, wagging his eyebrows, she rolls her eyes, slowly sitting up. “Funny, thirteen.”

He leans in for a kiss, and she softens, going lax in his embrace. Between kisses, Mat can feel his heart hammering in his rib cage, and he murmurs “I love you, Summer,” before he can stop himself.

She pauses for a second, lips frozen against his, and he backs up, gauging her reaction. She’s shocked, that much is obvious, and Mat can see the hesitation, so he leans in, kisses the tip of her nose, then her cheeks.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says, “I can wait as long as you need me to. I just wanted to make sure I laid all my cards out on the table.”

She leans back, looking into his eyes. Mat knows what she’s looking for, knows she’s trying to make sure he’s being genuine, but he’s pretty sure he’s got hearts in his eyes, so she’s probably going to find what she’s looking for pretty quick.

“Mat…” She says, his name soft and syrupy on her lips.

“I love you,” he repeats again, leaning in to kiss her again. “And you can tell me when you’re ready.”

He pulls away, heading toward the stove to finish up, but Summer takes him by surprise, pulling him back to her and kissing him like her life depends on it, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him close.

“I’m ready,” she says between kisses. “I love you.”

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

Forbidden Ties | Rafe Cameron

summary: sanaa knew it was forbidden, but he’s worth the risk, and he was willing to give up everything if it meant sanaa would fall into him the way she was meant to

warnings: angst, fluff

word count: 3,783

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Sanaa stood at the edge of the balcony, her eyes tracing the skyline of the city below. The evening sky, bruised purple and fading to a deep blue, cast long shadows across the terrace. She felt the cool air kiss her bare skin, the silk of her gown flowing gently behind her. Despite the opulence of the event—the glittering chandeliers, the clink of fine crystal glasses, the sound of laughter and conversation in every direction—she felt a distinct unease in her chest.

She wasn’t used to being the center of attention in a room full of strangers, even if they were all high society. It was hard to remember a time before her family’s wealth had drawn eyes like moths to a flame. And tonight, the spotlight felt even heavier because of one person.

Rafe Cameron.

He had appeared at the event an hour ago, looking every bit the successful business tycoon he was—tailored suit, expensive watch glinting in the light, sharp jawline and those eyes, the color of whiskey and always so focused, so intense. She hated that she noticed him so much. But there was nothing she could do. Her father had drilled it into her that Rafe was strictly off-limits. Business, he always said, should never mix with pleasure. And that’s exactly what Rafe was—dangerous, enticing pleasure.

Sanaa’s pulse quickened just at the thought of him. She didn’t even know why—he wasn’t like the other men she’d met. Most were more interested in what her family could offer than in who she was as a person. But Rafe was different. He saw her as an equal, someone who could challenge him. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what terrified her the most.

A soft laugh broke through her thoughts, and she turned to find her older sister, Leila, approaching. Leila was already a few steps ahead in her world of social connections, her polished grace and effortless charm making her the star of every gathering. She shot Sanaa a knowing smile as she sipped her champagne.

“Don’t tell me you’re out here feeling sorry for yourself,” Leila teased, her tone light but sharp. “I saw Rafe walking through the room. You know Dad will have a fit if you keep avoiding him.”

Sanaa’s heart stuttered, but she refused to let her nerves show. “I’m not avoiding anyone,” she replied coolly. “Just needed a breath of fresh air.”

Leila’s gaze softened, though there was still an amused glint in her eyes. “Sure you are. Just don’t make things awkward. If Dad finds out you’ve been running from Rafe all night, he’ll have a fit.”

“I haven’t been—” Sanaa started, but her words died on her tongue when she spotted him.

Rafe.

He was standing at the opposite end of the balcony, his attention fixed on something below, his hand resting casually against the stone railing. The sight of him stirred something in her that she wished she could ignore.

“Go talk to him,” Leila encouraged, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “You know you want to.”

Before Sanaa could respond, Leila was already disappearing back into the crowd, leaving her to face the one person she couldn’t seem to avoid. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she walked toward him, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor.

Rafe didn’t look up when she approached, and for a moment, she wondered if he hadn’t noticed her at all. But then, just as she was about to speak, he turned his head, his gaze locking with hers.

“Sanaa,” he said her name like it was a secret he’d been holding onto for far too long. His voice was low and smooth, and she could feel the weight of his attention like a tangible thing.

“Rafe,” she replied, her tone a little colder than she intended. She couldn’t help it. This whole situation—her father’s expectations, the pressure of their families' partnership—made her wary. She had been told time and time again that nothing could ever happen between them.

He smiled then, a slow, knowing smile that made her stomach flip. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers. “Isn’t it?”

“It is,” she agreed, her voice tight. She tried to keep her composure, to maintain the boundary that had been set for her. “Though I suppose you’d know that already, since you seem to spend your time in the limelight.”

Rafe’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. He stepped a little closer, close enough that she could smell the faint scent of his cologne, something deep and earthy. “I suppose I do,” he replied softly. “But it’s easier to appreciate the night when you’re not constantly under its spotlight.”

There was a pause between them, a tension that stretched for too long, until Sanaa felt her breath catch. She wanted to say something—anything—but all she could do was stare at him. The air around them seemed to crackle, charged with something unsaid, something dangerous.

“So, what brings you out here?” Rafe asked, leaning slightly toward her, his voice quiet but intent.

“I needed some space,” she answered honestly, though the real reason was far more complicated. “The crowd is a bit... much.”

He nodded, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her feel exposed. “I get that,” he said after a beat. “I tend to prefer moments of quiet.”

It was strange, how easily the conversation seemed to flow with him. Like they had known each other for far longer than just a few brief encounters. Like the rules of their families, the expectations, the things that should have kept them apart didn’t matter. For a brief, dangerous moment, she almost convinced herself that they didn’t.

But then the sound of footsteps interrupted them, and Sanaa glanced over her shoulder to find her father, Malik, approaching. He wore a stern expression, his sharp eyes quickly assessing the situation. When his gaze landed on Rafe, his face softened, but only slightly.

“Rafe,” Malik greeted, offering his hand for a handshake. “I was looking for you.”

“Malik,” Rafe replied with a firm but polite handshake. “Everything going smoothly?”

Sanaa could see the slight tension in her father’s posture, the way he glanced between her and Rafe, then back again. He was the sort of man who never let anything slip, always maintaining a calm facade, but she knew him well enough to recognize the signs of discomfort.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” Malik said, though his eyes lingered on Sanaa for a moment too long. “I’m sure Sanaa has been keeping you company.”

Sanaa quickly lowered her gaze, trying to read the subtle cues in her father’s expression. He wasn’t angry—not yet—but she could feel the pressure building. He wasn’t the type to interfere directly, but he didn’t need to. His disapproval was felt in every word, every glance.

“I’ve been keeping her company,” Rafe said smoothly, his voice betraying nothing. “We were just talking about the event. It’s quite a crowd.”

“Indeed,” Malik said curtly. “Well, I’m sure you two have much to discuss. I’ll leave you to it.” He turned to walk away, but not before pausing and adding, “Rafe, my office, tomorrow morning. We need to talk numbers.”

“Of course,” Rafe replied, nodding once.

As Malik walked off, Sanaa felt a familiar weight settle over her chest. She turned back to Rafe, her voice quieter now. “I should go inside.”

“You don’t have to,” Rafe said, his tone soft but compelling.

She felt the pull again, like gravity, and for a moment, she almost forgot where they were, who they were to each other. But the reality of the situation settled back in. She couldn’t let herself get too close. Not when it could ruin everything.

“I’ll see you later,” she said briskly, her voice colder than she intended. “Goodnight, Rafe.”

His gaze lingered on her as she turned to walk back inside, but she didn’t look back. The night was still young, and she knew that no matter how hard she tried to avoid him, their paths would cross again.

____________

The days following the event felt like a slow burn. Every time Sanaa crossed paths with Rafe—whether at one of her father’s business gatherings, or simply running into him at a dinner party—the tension was palpable. They both felt it. She knew it. He knew it. But neither of them spoke it aloud.

It was safer that way.

But in the quiet spaces of her life—when she was alone, when she could think without the pressure of family expectations—it was impossible to deny the truth. She was drawn to him. And not just in some superficial way. There was something about Rafe that made her want to understand him, to break through the walls he had so carefully constructed around himself. And the fact that it was forbidden only made it all the more dangerous.

The encounter on the balcony had stayed with her longer than she’d cared to admit, the sensation of his gaze lingering on her like a brand. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the way he had looked at her—appreciative, calculating, but also something softer, something she couldn’t quite grasp.

Her father’s words echoed in her mind. Business and pleasure don’t mix.

It was as if her father’s warning was now a constant hum, a reminder that what was between her and Rafe couldn’t happen. She had to believe that, no matter how irresistible the pull toward him became.

But Sanaa was used to control. Her entire life had been about balancing expectations: her father’s vision for their family’s legacy, her mother’s expectations of refinement and grace, and her own desires, which often felt small, hidden beneath the weight of all the responsibilities placed on her.

And then there was Rafe—strong, silent, unpredictable Rafe. Everything about him felt like an unspoken challenge, a question she couldn’t answer yet. The more she tried to forget him, the more he lingered, like the faintest trace of cologne on the collar of a jacket that was never really out of reach.

It happened one evening, a few weeks after the gala, when Sanaa found herself once again in the same orbit as Rafe. Her father had invited him to dinner at their house, a gathering that was supposed to be about business, but always had an undercurrent of something more personal.

She had known Rafe would be there. They were both too entrenched in the same circles, too tethered by their families’ business partnership, to avoid such gatherings. But what she hadn’t prepared for was the way her heart raced when she saw him step into the living room, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his presence like a magnetic force. The moment he looked at her, his expression unreadable, the world around her seemed to pause.

"Rafe," her father greeted, standing to shake his hand. "Good to see you. I trust everything’s going well?"

"As well as ever," Rafe answered smoothly, though his eyes briefly flicked toward Sanaa before he turned to Malik.

There it was again. That moment. That quiet recognition. She couldn’t let herself dwell on it, not with her father right there.

The dinner was a blur of fine wine, small talk, and the constant hum of corporate jargon. But Sanaa couldn’t keep her focus. Her attention kept straying to the man sitting across the table from her, his dark eyes catching hers with unsettling frequency. She told herself it was all in her head, that there was nothing to the looks he was giving her. After all, Rafe was a businessman. He wasn’t interested in her beyond the occasional polite conversation. Or so she had to keep telling herself.

But when the evening wore on and the others retired to the drawing room, Sanaa found herself once again alone with him. She was halfway through a glass of wine when she felt him at her side, silent and steady as always. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her, as though he were deciding whether or not to speak. Her pulse quickened, but she kept her face neutral.

“You’re not much for small talk, are you?” she asked, her voice a little too sharp.

Rafe chuckled softly, the sound low and almost intimate. “I’m more of a listener.”

She turned her head slightly, catching his gaze, and for a brief moment, the distance between them felt like nothing. As though the years of rules and expectations didn’t exist.

“I didn’t realize you were so interested in me,” she said, her words a little too playful, trying to mask the nerves she couldn’t control.

“I’m not,” he replied, his voice smooth but with a hint of something darker beneath. "But you intrigue me."

Her breath caught. Intrigued? By her? The idea shouldn’t have been so flattering, but the way he said it—so carefully, so deliberately—stirred something inside her, something she hadn’t been willing to acknowledge until now.

"I think I’m intrigued by you, too," she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. She hadn’t meant to make it personal, hadn’t meant to admit anything, but there it was.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, though he didn’t invade her personal space just yet. His presence, however, was unmistakable. The air between them seemed charged, thick with the weight of unspoken words.

“You should be careful about what you say, Sanaa,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, though she could feel the intensity behind it. “The more you admit to yourself, the harder it gets to walk away.”

She swallowed hard, looking down at her glass, trying to steady herself. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rafe gave a soft, humorless laugh. “Don’t play coy. You and I both know what this is.”

She bristled at his words, but the truth was, he wasn’t wrong. There was an undeniable connection between them—one that neither of them had been able to ignore, despite the rules and the boundaries. She had tried. She really had. But with each passing day, the pull between them grew stronger.

But they were not free agents. They weren’t just two people making their own choices. Her father’s expectations were always there, an ever-present shadow looming over every decision.

Sanaa’s voice was steady when she spoke again, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “This—whatever this is—it can’t happen, Rafe. You know that. My father would never approve.”

“And neither would mine but I’m a grown ass man, and you’re a grown ass woman,” he replied quietly, his gaze searching hers. “And there’s more to it than just their approval, isn’t there? There’s a part of you that wants this too.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. For a moment, she thought she might say something, might argue, might try to push back against the truth he had just laid bare. But the part of her that wanted him—wanted to explore what was between them—was too strong, too overwhelming.

“Maybe,” she whispered, before she could stop herself.

The tension between them thickened, and Rafe took a step closer, his body nearly touching hers. She could feel the heat of him, his presence overwhelming everything else in the room. And for a moment, she thought he might kiss her—just lean in, take her lips as if the rest of the world didn’t matter.

But then he pulled back, just slightly, his hand hovering near her shoulder but never quite touching. The moment was suspended, fragile, as if anything more would break it.

“We shouldn’t,” he said, his voice low and almost regretful. Sanaa nodded, her chest tightening. “No. We really shouldn’t.”

And yet, as he turned to leave the room, the tension remained, unspoken but undeniable.

Sanaa stood there, her breath shallow, her pulse racing long after Rafe had walked away. The room felt smaller, the weight of her own emotions pressing in on her chest, suffocating. She hadn’t meant to say it—hadn’t meant to let her vulnerability show. But now, with those words hanging between them, the lines she had so carefully drawn in her life seemed to blur, just like the faces in the crowded room that felt miles away.

Maybe she had been lying to herself all this time. Maybe she had wanted this all along.

She took a slow sip from her wine glass, the coolness of it doing nothing to settle the fire in her veins. The truth of it settled deep within her, and she couldn’t escape it. Rafe did intrigue her. And it was more than just curiosity. It was a magnetic force pulling her toward him, and as much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t.

The door to the drawing room creaked open behind her, and she stiffened, expecting to see her father or one of the guests. But when she turned, her gaze met Rafe’s again. He was standing in the doorway, his posture casual but the intensity in his eyes unmistakable.

“I thought you’d left,” Sanaa said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

“I should have,” Rafe replied, stepping into the room with quiet, measured strides. His presence filled the space, as it always did. “But something told me you weren’t quite finished with the conversation.”

Sanaa’s heart skipped a beat. She wanted to argue, wanted to snap at him to leave, to stop playing these dangerous games, but something about the way he looked at her made the words die on her tongue. It was as if they were the only two people in the room, the rest of the world fading away.

“You’re still here,” she said instead, her voice quieter than she intended. “Why?”

Rafe’s lips curved into a smile, the hint of something darker flickering beneath it. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m starting to believe that you’re not as immune to this as you pretend to be.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The audacity of his words sent a rush of heat to her cheeks. But it wasn’t anger she felt—it was something else. Something dangerous.

She wanted to argue, to tell him how wrong he was, how impossible it all was, but the words stuck in her throat, her own doubts weighing her down.

Instead, she found herself asking, “And what about you? Why do you keep coming back?”

His gaze softened, though there was still an edge to it. “I can’t get you out of my head, Sanaa. And I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Her heart raced, and her stomach flipped. She took a step back, shaking her head as if that might somehow clear the fog of emotions that clouded her thoughts. “This… we can’t. It’s not just our families—there’s more at stake. I can’t afford to let this happen, Rafe. Not when I’ve been told my entire life that I have to be in control.”

“You’ve been told a lot of things, haven’t you?” he said quietly, his voice taking on a harder edge. “And what have you been telling yourself?”

Sanaa froze, caught in the weight of his words. There was something almost accusatory in them, as though he was challenging her to admit what she had been avoiding all along. That part of her that did want this, that did want him, regardless of the consequences.

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stared at him, her gaze flickering to the door behind him, where she knew her father’s study lay—just beyond the threshold, where decisions were made, where futures were shaped. The life she was meant to live, the path she was supposed to follow, was just on the other side. But with every second that passed, it felt more and more like a cage.

“I have responsibilities,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she were trying to convince herself. “I can’t just throw them away. I can’t risk everything for… this.”

Rafe studied her in silence, and for a moment, Sanaa thought he might walk away, might let the tension dissipate like it had so many times before. But instead, he took a single step toward her, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, his voice steady but intense, “you have to risk everything. Otherwise, you’re just playing it safe, never really living.”

The words lingered in the air between them, heavy and daring, like an invitation to cross a line she had sworn never to cross. Sanaa’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of the choice she had to make.

“Is that what you want, Rafe?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion. “You want me to throw everything away?”

His gaze softened, and he stepped even closer, his presence enveloping her. “I don’t want you to throw anything away. But if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll know that you want more. You don’t want to be stuck in a life that’s already been mapped out for you. And neither do I.”

Sanaa felt her breath catch again, her hands trembling slightly as she held her glass, as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. She knew he was right. She knew the truth was there, buried beneath all the expectations and obligations. She wanted something more. But could she really have it?

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Rafe,” she murmured, though the words felt hollow now. “One I’m not sure I can afford to play.”

His lips quirked into a half-smile. “Maybe. But sometimes, Sanaa… danger is the only thing worth playing for.”

Before she could respond, he stepped away, leaving her in the silence of the room. The door clicked softly behind him as he exited, leaving her standing in the same spot, caught between desire and duty, between a life she had been taught to live and one that might be hers if she had the courage to reach for it.

Sanaa’s mind raced, her heart torn. She knew she couldn’t let herself get swept up in this—she had too much to lose. But a part of her, the part that had been buried for so long, wondered if maybe it was time to risk it all.

She swallowed hard, the taste of uncertainty thick on her tongue.

Maybe the question wasn’t what she had to lose.

Maybe the real question was: What would she be willing to give up to have it all?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Let me know what guys wanna see next ! 🫶🏾

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Somethin’ Stupid

It’s been a while since i’ve written anything for the Sacred Realm, but here’s something for my wife, @trippygalaxy. <3 Worlds content because she’s a simp

Cw: minor/light gore

☆⋆｡𖦹��‧★

The majority of the spirits within the Realm were quite similar. Equally as chivalrous and heroic as the last. They lived up to their titles, to their reputations and tales.

They were all Links.

They were all the Hero of Hyrule.

All except for Worlds.

Now, that’s not to say those labels didn’t fit him exactly— because they did. He was a hero, he was a Link, he did save Hyrule. But to the same effect, he also wasn’t purely just a hero. He wasn’t just Link and he didn’t just save Hyrule.

He was so much beyond what he was made out to be.

Which was why it was so frustrating when he still wasn’t enough.

Time and time again he’d save people, slay the bad guy, relinquish evil only to be called upon again. His hands never left his sword and his mind never left the battlefield. He was a Hero, through and through.

Even if it meant he’d never be seen for what he could be if he’d just be laid to rest.

He was tired of falling short, too.

Tired of watching people and things he loves slip past his fingertips in the name of ‘Heroism’.

Time got to fall in love, despite his sourness.

Twilight had a wife and child, a whole life outside of purging darkness from Hyrule.

Wild got to enjoy his life in somewhat solitude, wandering around his Hyrule and working on his tech.

Even the newest Link got to keep some part of himself alive and whole.

So why couldn’t he just have someone something.

Sky thought it was because he wouldn’t let himself. That despite the many times hope has been ripped from his hands, it’s not Hylia that’s made him let go. Maybe it’s just that he stopped holding on. That he let go. That he made himself move on.

He wouldn’t let Sky be right.

Not this time, at least.

Not while you lay bloodied beyond recognition.

Not while malice chews at your flesh, and leeches off your life.

You were too good. To him, To the world.

There aren’t many people who would thank him so sweetly for things he did. There are fewer then who would throw themselves under the wide arch of a sword to keep him safe, even if he can’t be harmed in this state.

He was real to you.

Living and breathing beyond just being the spirit of a hero, he was real to you.

He knew you were too good to slip past him, to leave him with that sickening feeling in his gut at what he should’ve done. What he should’ve said.

He wouldn’t let himself lose you.

He couldn’t.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

And He didn’t.

Many potions and fairies later, you were stable. Drowsy as you were, your lungs drew breath and your heart limped along. You were weak, but it didn’t matter.

Awkwardly, he stood by your cot, staring down at you with a mix of thought and feeling running through his mind. Sorrow, anxiety and that odd feeling of anticipation you stirred in his gut.

He didn’t quite understand it— you. Your motives were foggy in his mind, your actions lacking any motivation he thought compelling enough to risk your own life. He didn’t understand the guilt he felt. He felt bad, of course. You were injured and he was the only one to blame. That he understood well and clear. But it was the heavy feeling, looking down at you now as your body struggles to work that he feels like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He’s scared.

“Enjoying the view?” You croak, sitting up and downing the glass of water set at your bedside. The amusement in your eyes has his heart running so familiarly.

“I didn’t know you could get more gross.” He rolls his eyes, shoving back the apologies as they claw in his throat. Slightly, he winces at the hostility in his tone. He never was good at letting himself be, was he? “But here you are”

“Oh that’s right, I forgot spirits can’t see their reflection” Your voice is light, as if genuinely recalling some lost fact. A light smile pulls at your lips, emphasising the teasing in your tone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He squinted.

“Nothing” You shrugged him off. The room is quiet. Somewhere he can make out Link shuffling about, but the Inn is still aside from that. Dust dances in the last few beams of sunlight, and he mourns how long it’s been since he’s been able to recall such detail.

You tend to do that to him though.

“Y’know” He starts, picking at his cuticles “You should really give more warning before you do something dumb like that.” He pauses to look at you as you huff.

“Look, I’m fine-“ You start, throwing your hands up defensively.

“You almost weren’t” His voice is sharp, silencing any argument you might’ve brought, “You were in a horrible state. And I’m not quite sure if you haven’t realised, but you don’t get a second chance.” His voice begins to pick up his panic, quickening as he remembers just how much he’s lost to be here.

Things he wants you to never go through.

“You do something stupid like that and don’t stop to even consider what might happen. What you might be leaving behind. And I can’t always be there to hold you back. I can’t always be there to make sure you’re safe.” He sees the doubt in your eyes. The pleading argument that you’ll be ok. That he’s worrying too much. That he can let you go.

But for the life of him, dead as it may be, He doesn’t care.

“I know you’re capable. I know you’re strong. But you won’t always be strong enough. You won’t always make it out fine. And We-“ His throat seizes, and he lets himself just be vulnerable.

“I need you alive.” His eyes search your own for any response, any answers. Your pursed lips don’t move to form words, and he’s ready to just consider it a loss.

“So maybe let’s stop with the dumb choices, o-“ He doesn’t even get to finish his sarcastic remark before you tug him by the collar to your lips. Between every journey through hell and back, there’s never been more relief than in this moment. Your lips are cracked and bloodied, but sweet nonetheless.

“Only if you stop it with the sarcasm” you mutter against his lips.

“Oh, well then we’re both at a loss” He rolls his eyes, pulling you closer again.

[takenbypeter]

Could I request a Wonka x fem reader? Where it’s the fire scene and maybe she spots like a box or cart of chocolate that hasn’t been tainted by the evils and she is determined to save it even if she’s jumping into the fire and putting her life at risk? Willy is horrified (you can choose if he saves her or if she’s one of those damsels not in distress) but it ends happy and she survived and they talk about it afterwards? Like he can’t believe she would risk her life and she knows how important the chocolate is to him and so she’d do anything for him. Thanks!

Some Risks Are Worth It

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1020

He didn’t deserve this.

You knew the chocolatier for only a short time, having enjoyed the joy his chocolate brought to you and as well as others, but you knew him enough to know he didn’t deserve this. The way the crowd turned on him, it just wasn’t right.

You weren’t amazingly close with the man, however, you knew him from only recent times as you, along with a few others helped in the making of his new shop. Despite not being close you knew his chocolate, it meant something. It meant something to anyone who tried it and you were one of those people.

Maybe it was that conviction that made you do what you did next.

You stood beside him, in horror as the fire raged and smoke filled the room.

Eyes looking at the destruction that was currently taking place, your eyes stopped hovering over a sight that looked brighter than the others.

“We gotta get out of here,” he said, grabbing your head and pulling you towards the door.

“Wait, I see something,” you say and he ignores your pleas, “let’s go.”

Although you want to listen to the boy you find some things are more important, you pull away from him heading in the opposite direction.

Willy stops as soon as he feels your hand slip and for a moment you look back at him, noticing how his eyes pleaded, silently. “Go, I’ll meet you out there!” You shout as he takes a step forward but a burning product practically falls from the ahead cutting him off from you.

He would’ve stayed, he would’ve helped if Chucklesworth hadn’t run back in to guide him out ignoring his requests.

‘Where was it?’ You thought recalling where you last viewed the colorful item. You ran through a bit of smoke, before you pinpointed exactly where you saw it. It only took you a second to spot it and grab it, “gotcha,” you exclaimed before another piece of wood crashed from the sky.

Luckily there was another way out.

Willy on the other hand was stuck outside along with the others. He could only imagine the worst as he held his eyes glued to the scene. “That’s it I’m going in!” He shouted taking steps while the others went to hold him back.

Luckily they didn’t have to restrain him too long as you emerged shortly.

They let him go and he ran to you, kneeling down as you coughed hunched over with your hands on your knees.

After you let out some nasty coughs you held an item up, “I got it,” you breathe out. Willy takes the time before realizing what it was.

It was a box of his newest candy, chocolate moose.

“You went back for this?…why on earth would you go back for this?”

You glanced down wondering how you were going to explain this one, “look I know you’re upset because of your shop—“

“My shop? Do you know how worried we were? How scared we were?” He scoffs and walks a ways away, clearly upset.

You’ve never seen him this way, frankly you didn’t even believe he could get this way.

You look back at the others, who share a look before Abacus is the one to speak up, “he was really worried. He was going to go back in for you.”

You glanced back at Willy who was pinching his nose in no doubt frustration. “I’ll be back,” you announce, following the boys footsteps.

“Willy?” You ask approaching him.

“You risked your life…for chocolate,” he laughed at the situation before turning to you with a much more serious expression, “what if you died?”

“But I didn’t.”

“But what if you did? I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I had a part in that.”

Your lip tightened into a straight line having not thought of that before, “I’m sorry.”

He lets out a breath of his own coming to terms with what happened, happened. “Why did you even grab that?” He asks now eyeing the chocolate.

You peered down at the chocolate in your hands, the one that apparently meant so much you’d risk your life for it.

“Everything was burning down, all our hard work, it was just gone. When I saw this,” you lifted it up, “it helped me to believe that it wasn’t all gone. We have something. This is our new starting point, it’s our hope. And you all worked so hard on it. Willy, do you know how much joy your chocolate has brought into people's lives. The people need things like this.” Finally you lower the box of delicacies, “and I wasn’t going to let some fire stand in the way of happiness.”

Wonka meets your eyes, seeming to come to some sort of understanding, “does my happiness mean that much to you?” He asked genuinely curious.

“Yes of course. I care about you and I just want you to be happy.”

He breathed out another sigh, he knew you meant it in the best way. The action was actually very sweet to him. He just didn’t know what he would do if he lost you.

“Okay, what’s done is done,” he pushes the box lower, “just try to keep in mind, having you be in my life brings me much more happiness than chocolate ever could.”

That was not something you were expecting from all this. Of course you knew he cared about you but more than chocolate? You thought he cared about the dessert far more than everything else. But apparently you were wrong.

“Why, Wonka, careful you might give the wrong impression if you keep talking like that.”

He smiles for the first time since the incident, “or maybe I’d give off the right impression.”

Suddenly finding yourself with a frog in your throat at the abrupt suddenness of the boy you turn your whole body towards him immediately noticing the darkness of his cheeks.

“Let’s join the others, they're waiting for us,” he says sliding past you and it took you a moment to recollect yourself and follow the man.

[turn3tifosi]

FROM THE ANGELS

ii. THE CHAOS OF THE SUMMER

Summer Break, 2022

Word must have travelled fast through the walls of the factory in Maranello, because Ausilia had gotten a call from Charles that night.

They had met first during karting, Charles several levels above her, but got acquainted with each other when Ausilia joined the FDA in 2020.

Ausilia was convinced that Charles sacrifice himself at the altar if it meant that Ferrari would be champions again. She also knew that she would be right next to him.

Ausilia loved the team too, but it seemed the feeling was unreciprocated, not in any way she could grasp.

“So what’s next for you?” Charles’s voice was laced with curiosity. Ausilia hadn’t planned to spill the news just yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. Sharing it with one more person was hardly a risk.

“I signed a contract.” She said it with a casual shrug, as if she were discussing the weather. But beneath that veneer was the weight of her future, the career she’d poured her heart into.

“With another F1 team? Or are you moving to another series?” Charles’s questions were endless, but Ausilia indulged him. Ferrari was branching out into WEC, and he suggested, “You could always go into endurance.”

The mention of Ferrari made Ausilia bristle, a flicker of irritation she couldn’t quite place. His suggestion was practical, but it stung. It was a reminder that even as the Scuderia opened new doors, they had slammed shut on her. Marco and Mattia hadn’t even hinted at a reserve or development role.

“Endurance isn’t really my thing. Besides, the dream’s always been Formula One,” she said, her voice trailing off as if weighed down by the words. She cleared her throat, a reminder of the ache she tried to mask.

“Don’t you want to wait and see if Ferrari comes through with a contract? Is it really final?” Charles knew about her deep-rooted affection for the team; Maranello had been her home for the past two years.

He offered a sliver of hope, “Maybe ask Lucy to help you get a seat in endurance? There’s going to be seats for 2024, and ‘25 is even more open. Don’t leave Ferrari behind—maybe you’ll get your chance. It’s always been your dream.”

His optimism grated on her nerves now. She understood his perspective, but he didn’t see the whole picture. Even if every seat on the team was open, she knew she still wouldn’t get a contract.

Her voice turned icy as she replied, “I can’t afford to waste my career waiting for this team, Charles. Not every dream is worth dying for.”

The chill evaporated quickly as she added, “Listen, I’ve got to go. Bye.”

She ended the call, the weight of her words lingering like a shadow. What she’d said was true, but a part of her still yearned for that dream—the dream of driving for Ferrari, the dream that had ignited her passion and fueled her ambition.

A Few Days Later

The day had started like any other. Quiet, uneventful. But Ausilia knew what was coming, could feel the shift in the air. She was sitting in a small café in her neighborhood when her phone buzzed. Lucy. “They’re posting it in 15 minutes.”

Fifteen minutes. The countdown began, a hum of adrenaline beneath her skin. This wasn’t the dream, not exactly how she’d pictured launching her Formula One career, but a seat—any seat—was a foothold. And a seat in Formula One was still everything.

She sipped her coffee, eyes on the screen, the seconds ticking away like a heartbeat. Fifteen minutes, sharp. Right on time, the announcement lit up her phone. Haas posted the words that would tether her name to the 2023 grid: “We are pleased to announce that Formula 2’s current championship leader, Ausilia de Angelis, will be driving with Haas F1 in 2023.”

Somewhere in Carolina, Gene Haas' phone buzzes, slicing through the quiet. He picks up, hears the voice on the other end, tight with disbelief, suspicion. “You signed Ausilia for 2023?”

The question hangs there, heavy, like it’s trying to unravel the logic, make sense of the decision. Gene stays silent, lets them spin the thread a little longer. The voice sharpens. “Why would you give her the seat, Gene? She’s not an FDA driver anymore.”

There it is. Not an FDA driver. The words that were supposed to mean something. A mark of belonging, or lack of it, now. But Gene knows better. He leans back in his chair, partially annoyed, partially pleased, listening as the voice continues, as if trying to claw back some sense of order. “The plan was 2025, when Sainz leaves, de Angelis gets the seat at Ferrari. That’s what they told me.”

“Well, they obviously lied,” Gene cuts in, a little sharper than intended. But the truth is, the lie doesn’t matter now. Ferrari’s plan, their red-tinted dreams—they’re not his concern. Ausilia isn’t tethered to them anymore, and that’s what pleases him most. No strings attached, no waiting for her moment in red.

She’s his driver now. And she’s a good driver. It’s no secret. If she stays longer than they expected, if she builds something here, grows into a name that’s theirs, not Ferrari’s—that only works in his favor. No FDA label. No promises of a future that’s always dangling just out of reach. Just her, in his car, pushing the limits.

He smiles to himself, the voice still droning on in the background. But it’s clear now. They were never in control. Not of her, not of this.

The news of her F1 seat ignites chaos, like a match dropped into gasoline. Headlines spiral, opinions crash into each other, and the world of Formula One is set ablaze. A woman back on the grid. Thirty years. That’s how long it’s been since Desiree Wilson in '92, and now it’s Ausilia—taking that seat, that space, that history. She knows what this means. She’s not just racing for herself. She’s racing for every girl who ever looked at a track and wondered if she could belong there.

But even before her first lap, the obituaries are already being written. They’re carving her failure into stone, like it’s inevitable, like her victory in Formula 3, her dominance in Formula 2, were all just footnotes leading to this “mistake.” The media says she should’ve gone elsewhere, waited for something safer, something more respectable. They think she’s already burned out before she’s even had the chance to start.

And here’s the hypocrisy: they’ll cheer for her when she wins everything leading up to this, but now, at the edge of the real dream, they’re holding her back. As if she hasn’t earned it. As if the seat in Formula One isn’t hers, and hers alone. But Ausilia knows better. She’s going to show them, all of them, that she—and every other girl who’s ever been told no—belongs exactly where she wants to be.

Gene called Ausilia later that day, his voice flat, cutting through the static. "So you and your manager lied about the FDA plan."

Ausilia didn’t flinch, didn’t miss a beat. “When we signed the contract, I was still an FDA driver,” she replied, calm but sharp. "I was only dropped at the start of the summer break."

But Gene wasn’t in the mood for details. He was serious, his voice like gravel, dragging across the line. “You’re a great driver, that’s why I’m letting you keep the seat,” he said, and for a moment, there was something heavier, something weightier in the silence that followed.

“Prove me right,” he added, his words slower now, deliberate. “And prove all those money-grabbing journalists wrong, de Angelis.”

It wasn’t a pep talk. It was a challenge, a dare.

[kingofanemptyworld]

I saw a post like a week back comparing Nanami’s final words to Itadori with Nobara’s — as in, Nanami cursing Itadori (in the same way he considers his grandpa’s last request a curse) vs. Nobara trying to ease some of Itadori’s burden.

Nanami: “You’ve got it from here.”

A more gentle curse than his grandpa’s, maybe, which is more like a demand that Itadori help who can and save who he can by virtue of being “strong enough” to do it. But a curse all the same. Placing yet more unreasonable expectations on a child who already bears too much on his own shoulders.

Nobara: “It wasn’t so bad!”

Plainly telling Itadori that she doesn’t regret becoming a sorcerer and that her death shouldn’t weigh on him. Her life wasn’t bad, so there’s no reason to lay another curse on him. Whether or not she really means it is sort of irrelevant — on some level she’s saying this for Itadori, because she knows him and she knows exactly how much of the blame he’ll take on himself. It’s also for herself, I think, in that she doesn’t want to have regrets. She didn’t reunite with her friend but she came to Tokyo, she got stronger, she proved over and over again that a little bit of vanity and power can go hand in hand and there’s nothing wrong it. She made friends she loves dearly, people she gladly put aside chairs for. Nobara knew the risks and she’s accepting the consequences.

Which isn’t to say that Nanami isn’t doing those things, that he didn’t know the risk. He clearly hates that he’s passing the burden onto Itadori. But he still says it. He still puts in his faith in Itadori to finish the fight and continue on.

There’s a similar trend of the adults doing this, too, especially with Higuruma in one of the latest chapters.

He may not be verbally telling Itadori that it’s his job now to take down Sukuna. But the “I’ve done what I can” combined with that open-palm gesture towards Itadori and the flashback we get of him saying he’ll play his role and die in the fight… it’s another curse, however you look at it. Passing the baton to Itadori because he can’t do it himself, as much as he would like to.

I would argue the kids are more liable to try and lighten the load for Itadori, but then, Fushiguro gets Itadori to go along with the culling games plan by asking him to “start by saving me [Fushiguro]”. Because he knows that’s what will motivate Itadori and likely prevent him from going off on his own. It’s fair, and I don’t even think he’s wrong to say it like that, but it’s still sort of digging hooks into Itadori that absolutely dictate his actions going forward.

So Nobara is actually an outlier in this respect, which is fascinating. Especially because her moral views are so different from Itadori’s and even Fushiguro’s. But that’s probably precisely why she says what she does to him. Nobara values the lives of her loved ones more than anything else. She’s willing to play hero when she has to but it’s not her natural instinct and she immediately sees the negatives to a situation like that (ex. When she tries playing along with the cursed spirit in her intro to save the child and realizes they’re both probably going to die there). You might say it’s selfishness, and yeah, to a degree it definitely is, but then Nobara — maybe selfishly, maybe not — wants to prevent Itadori from being hurt from her death more than he has to be. She doesn’t want to be a burden, her final words to be a curse.

It makes me wonder if he talked about his grandpa and what it meant for him to be told, in his last moments, that he’s responsible for saving and helping as many people as he can. That’s who he has to be, for his grandpa’s sake. Did that influence Nobara’s choice here? Or was this just based on what she’s seen of him combined with who she is as a person?

[voraciousvore]

Giganterra (Chapter 59)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (58) | Next (60)

Content Warning: Blood, animal abuse

Word Count: 2.4k

------ Chapter 59: Conspiracy ------

It was challenging enough to work up the resolve to assassinate his father, but another level of difficulty entirely to execute a plan of action. The royal siblings were at a loss as to how they could kill the king, despite their shared kinship and proximity. King Richard was suspicious of everyone, even his own children, and protected himself accordingly with formidable safeguards. Ronny was all too familiar with Ajax’s legendary strength. Even if he miraculously managed to injure the king, he needed to guarantee his death with an immediate fatal hit, lest he survive and recover with healing potion. 

With no ideas, the siblings decided to sleep on it and regroup in the morning. Neither of the siblings slumbered that night, as they tossed and turned in bed. Bianca was entirely consumed by regret, sadness, and shame. Ronny, too, was eaten up with worry: He hated to imagine what Tanya was suffering. He would rather have all his teeth pulled, one by one, and his nails ripped from his hands, than put her through the abuses that he knew his father would inflict on her. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured Tanya sitting in his father’s hands, being stuffed down his pants, or flailing inside his belly. The mental images were enough to make him want to puke. He couldn’t stomach it. He would do anything to save her, even if it meant risking his own life. 

The morning rolled around, and Ronny still had no plan. He tumbled out of bed, slapped on some clothes, and trudged to his morning class, rumpled and dejected. To his surprise, Bianca was waiting for him with a savage grin. 

“I have an idea.” 

Ronny perked up. “Really?” 

Before she could say another word, Milton walked in. He bowed deferentially and set his satchel down next to his desk. Ronny frowned at the interruption, but sat down in his seat. Obviously, they couldn’t discuss their plot within earshot of a third party. 

Before the tutor could begin the lesson, Bianca asked, “Mr. Henderson? What do you know about shrinking potion?” Ronny’s heart skipped a beat. 

Milton was surprised by the unusual inquiry, but did his best to answer her question. “I know a few things. From what Hunter told me, it’s a diluted form of the same magic used to shrink Minimaterra. The formula consists of ground-up fairy wings and a magic-user’s blood. And it has a temporary effect that lasts approximately twelve hours, depending on the dosage.” 

“How small can it shrink someone?” 

Milton scratched his head. “I’m... not sure, exactly. Personally, I’ve never seen it used on anyone. I’d have to ask Hunter. He’s the source of my information on the matter.” 

“You’re on good terms with him?” Bianca pressed. 

“Well, yes, I suppose. Why do you ask?” Milton answered, confused by the line of questioning. He sensed she had a more surreptitious purpose than just intellectual curiosity. 

Ronny and Bianca exchanged glances. If they were going to steal the shrinking potion from the locked cabinet, they needed a distraction to get Hunter out of the room. “Can you talk to him?” 

“If you really want me to. Though, to be frank, I’d prefer not to,” Milton responded, unsettled by the request. If he wasn’t talking to the princess, he’d suggest that she ask herself instead. He didn’t want to interact with Hunter unless he absolutely had to. 

Ronny realized, in order for their plan to work, he’d have to push Milton further. He strongly suspected that Milton was a human sympathizer, based on the content of his lessons and how discomfited he seemed by Bianca’s treatment of her human accessories. He decided, boldly, to take a risk. 

“The king slaughtered Bianca’s humans,” he blurted out. A flash of shock passed over the tutor’s face. “And he took Tanya, the small human woman I had in my care, for himself. Please, we need your help. We need to get our hands on that shrinking potion. You understand?” 

Milton’s eyes widened as the meaning in Ronny’s words dawned on him. “Oh.” He gulped. This was extremely dangerous talk, the sort of conversation that could get him killed. This was treason. 

His initial knee-jerk reaction was to back out. He didn’t want to get involved and face the wrath of the king. However, as his thoughts drifted to Millie, Candy, and Iris, he realized the tremendous significance of this moment. As long as the king was alive, he was a huge threat: not only for the humans under Milton’s protection, and all the humans in the castle, but for the entire human race. He chastised himself for his selfishness. If Ronny, the Crown Prince, was sympathetic to humans, he could alter the tide of history.  

His decision was made. “I will help.”  

Ronny nodded firmly and turned to Bianca. “What’s the plan?” 

“Hunter keeps the shrinking potions behind bars in a locked cabinet. Once Milton lures him out, we’ll find the key and steal a bottle.” 

“Okay.” Milton took a deep breath. His nerves were jittery, but he maintained a façade of calm while he descended into the bowels of the castle, alone. He found Hunter in his laboratory, reading intently. Hunter brightened when he spotted Milton coming in through the door. 

“Milton! What brings you here today?” he inquired. 

The pedagogue kept his posture and expression casual as he leaned into the doorframe, hands straying to his pockets. In his peripheral vision, he spied the glowing green vials of potion, inaccessible behind a padlock with metal bars. “I have more questions regarding your craft. And I want to see the unicorn you were talking about, if that’s okay. I’ve never beheld a live one before.” 

Hunter grinned. “Oh? I wouldn’t let just anyone see it, but I suppose I could take you there!” He rummaged about in his desk drawer until he brought out a ring of big rusty keys. Milton suppressed a frown. Hopefully, the key they required wasn’t on that ring, or the royal children would be clever enough to pick the lock. 

The sorcerer led him down the shadowy hall, deeper into the subterranean depths. There was a insidious, damp chill that wormed its way under his clothing and peppered his skin with gooseflesh. Hunter stopped at a metal door and scraped one of the keys in the lock. The door peeled open with a tortured squeal. 

 An animal odor permeated the air. The cell contained no natural light source, yet a large mass in the center emitted a very faint iridescence. Chains clinked together as the sizable object moved, and Milton realized he was gazing upon a living creature: the unicorn. It was slightly larger than an ordinary horse, yet slender and elegant, with an otherworldly pearlescent sheen to its fur. Its silvery mane and tail glittered despite the dirt encrusted in the hair. The resplendent horn on its forehead caught the firelight from Hunter’s torch and sparkled like a crystal, veined with rainbow highlights. The poor beast was shackled to the hard floor and wallowing in its own filth, yet shined with the majesty and grace innate to a magical creature.  

Milton was saddened to see the deplorable conditions the unicorn was kept in. Besides the lack of sanitation and light, and the heavy chains, there were thin tubes hooked into its legs, piercing the flesh, that fed into a byzantine contraption with a crank and limp rubbery sacks hanging from the sides. 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Hunter remarked. 

“Yes,” Milton replied softly. “Beautiful creature.” 

“Yeah, sure I guess, but I was talking about this,” Hunter clarified, gesturing to the bizarre machine. “I use it to harvest the unicorn’s blood. Here, let me demonstrate.” 

He grabbed the crank and twisted it. Cogs and wheels rotated with grinding squeaks and an obnoxious sucking sound emanated from the tubes as air was vacuumed through. The unicorn whinnied with pain while an ethereal fluid, like quicksilver, drained from its body. The dangling sacks slurped up the magical blood and swelled full. Milton wanted to tear his hair out as the horrific torment assaulted his ocular faculties. He was tempted to shove Hunter away, kick him down, and free the innocent creature. The unicorn looked at him sidelong with an intelligent, velvety blue eye that imitated the night sky, studded with stars.   

Milton bit his tongue hard. He needed to keep his mouth shut; he couldn’t ruin everything now. The unicorn was merely one injustice among many, a microcosm of the giant king’s abuses and wanton destruction of everything good. They needed to assassinate the king so the cruelties would cease, so he could no longer corrupt and spoil everything he touched with his tainted influence. He used all his willpower to repress his complaints and distracted Hunter with lengthy questions. The sorcerer was more than willing to ramble on about his unethical experiments and the creative, twisted ways he implemented his magic. Milton understood that he needed to keep Hunter occupied for as long as possible, so he silently grated his teeth as he listened to horrors that made his ears bleed. 

Once Milton lured Hunter away, Bianca and Ronny snuck into the sorcerer’s domain beneath the castle. They crept into the room with all the potions and began searching for the key: emptying drawers, shuffling through his papers and books, checking every crevice and cranny. They found plenty of dust to make them sneeze, exotic powders and ingredients, spiders and earwigs and silverfish, enigmatic oddities—but no key. 

“Maybe we can pick the lock,” Bianca suggested. Ronny grabbed a pair of forceps, jammed the metal tips into the keyhole, and scrambled them around. Bianca watched in tense silence as Ronny scratched and fiddled with them for several minutes. 

Ronny huffed. “This isn’t working.” He threw the forceps onto the desk with frustration. “Can’t we just break the damned thing?” 

“No,” Bianca said with a shake of her head. “If we tamper with it, Hunter will know, and he’ll snitch. Trust me, I know.” She grimaced. 

Ronny frowned. “What can we do then?” The siblings stared at the glowing vials in the cabinet, just beyond their reach, taunting them. Ronny poked his finger through the bars, brows furrowed in thought. His dark eyes lit up. “I have an idea! Wait here.” 

Without explaining himself, he raced out of the room, for he knew his time was limited. He stampeded over to the kitchen and burst in, startling the chefs. 

“I’m hungry!” he yelled petulantly, harnessing his bratty side to cover up his true motives. “Give me something sweet to eat! With that human over there!” He stabbed his finger at Eren, who blinked at him questioningly. She’d never seen the prince in the kitchen before. 

“Right away, of course, Your Highness!” Bucky answered. He spun around and barked, “Cruor!” 

“I’m on it already!” Cruor snapped back. He heaped up a mountain of sugary treats on a platter and dropped Eren haphazardly in the middle. He was huffing and puffing and sweating, straining against his tight clothes, struggling to move around the kitchen with his increased girth. He offered the plate to Ronny, bowing his head. “Enjoy, Your Highness.” 

“Thanks,” Ronny muttered and rushed out. He hustled down the hall, teeth clinched with stress. He hoped he’d make it back in time, before Hunter caught on to their scheme. 

“What’s going on?” Eren queried, sensing the abnormality of the situation. “Why are you-” 

“You want to take down the king, right?” Ronny interjected, holding the plate close to his lips so his voice wouldn’t carry. 

Eren’s eyes blazed. “Absolutely.” 

“Well then, you’re going to help me.” Eren stared up at the giant prince in shock. She didn’t think that he would go so far as to betray his own father. She almost couldn’t believe it, though she had of course personally witnessed the strain between them. Her heart skipped a beat as Ronny carried her down into the darker lower levels of the castle. 

“W-where are you taking me?” she stammered. She’d never been here before. 

“Shush. You’ll see soon enough,” Ronny muttered in return. Eren lapsed into silence, with only the sound of Ronny’s thudding footfalls bouncing off the walls. She was along for the ride, whether she liked it or not. The prince entered Hunter’s study, where Bianca was waiting impatiently. 

“A human! That’s brilliant!” Bianca praised, immediately catching on to Ronny’s plan. Without any preamble, Ronny stuffed Eren between the bars of the locked cabinet. 

“Hey! What the hell?” Eren hissed as she tumbled over the dusty wood. 

“No time to explain! Drag one of those potions over here!” Ronny commanded. Eren, hearing the urgency in his tone, sprang into action. Each glass vial was taller than a human, with a slender tapered neck and stopped with a cork at the top. Eren struggled to drag one of the heavy bottles over. The mysterious luminescent liquid sloshing within mesmerized her. 

She brought it up to the bars. “Now what?” The bottle was too wide to slide all the way through. 

“I got this,” Bianca said. She reached a finger through the bars and tipped the potion on its side, so that the narrow neck protruded through the bars. She borrowed an empty vial from one of the shelves, uncorked the bottle of potion, and poured in a measured quantity, generous enough to use without being missed. She replaced the cork and pushed the bottle back into an upright position. With some difficulty, Eren hauled the potion back to its original spot. 

“Hurry, Eren. We need to get out of here,” Ronny urged, motioning with his fingers for her to hop back into his hand. Eren didn’t entirely trust him, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She took the plunge and squeezed through the bars into his palm. He curled his hand around her so she wouldn’t fall and ran out, heart beating fast. 

Ronny and Bianca clambered up the stairs. Milton performed his role perfectly, for Hunter was nowhere to be seen. Bianca’s quarters were closest, so the siblings retreated to the privacy of her boudoir and shut the door, panting for breath. Ronny deposited Eren onto the bed. She huddled up nervously, intimidated by the two royal giants towering over her like buildings. 

“Now what?” Ronny asked. “How are we going to shrink him? There’s no way we can get something like this past Chester. He’ll smell it from a mile away.” 

“The king isn’t going to shrink,” Bianca explained. “You are.” 

Chapter 60

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