#i didn’t have to do that much to these why did it take me so long? oh bc i did all 65 pics 😅 other units coming 🫡

[1d1195]

Pucking Rookie I

~8.4k words

From me: here she is. gonna be at least one more part (probs 2) sorry. I didn't mean to do a series. I just can't shut up and I introduced too many fun characters. I don't know a lot about hockey so a lot of this is probably unrealistic.

Warnings: douchey ex-boyfriend, a little violent (it's hockey after all)

Summary: When the assistant coach's niece comes to take pictures of the team, her lens isn't the only thing capturing Harry Styles heart and soul on and off the ice. Harry wants to win her over more than he wants to win the entire league championship. (Although it would be nice to rub it in her ex's stupid face if he won that too).

The rink was chilly even with the appropriate clothes on. Despite the fact she practically lived in ice arenas for the two years, it never ceased to catch her off guard with how cold it was. To be fair, she was a lot closer to the ice this time around. Her camera pressed into the little glass cutout, her eye checking the visual before she clicked the shutter.

Quickly she pulled away as two of the guys pressed against the glass right next to her. “Hey Sweetheart,” Noah Ashford smiled briefly as he skated off in the other direction. She rolled her eyes. Uncle Charlie, assistant coach of The Arctic Chargers, warned the entire team that his niece was taking residence at the rink and would be part of media photos, headshots, and would be submitting to all major sport reporting outlets. The team was told without question, not to bother her in any way.

Naturally the group of twenty twenty-something year-old hockey players were going to do nothing of the sort.

Captain Evander Langston swished almost gracefully over to her. He stopped in front of her with a puff of ice at his feet. “Do you think I have a good side?”

She shook her head with a smirk and looked over the photos she just took in the last three minutes. “Probably not the left. You’ve been checked into the board over there about five times this practice alone.”

He put a hand on his chest. “Sweetheart, you wound me.”  Sweetheart was the name Uncle Charlie called her in front of the whole team during the introduction and so it was the only thing any of them paid attention to from their coach. “Don’t say that in front of the others,” he pleaded quietly.

“I would never, Cap,” she smiled kindly.

He returned her grin with his own. “You call me Cap, and I’m going to have a problem with Coach’s rule, Sweetheart. But I know we’re all going to like having you around to keep us in check.”

“Lang, you better not be flirting when your technique needs work!” Kian Calloway shouted across the ice where he slapped a puck into the open net from the blue line.

“You better not be flirting, period, Lang!” Uncle Charlie called.

“Yeah!” Callie repeated to his captain. She had gone over the nicknames with her uncle before starting. Lang, Asher, and Callie were easy and as some of the major stars of the team, it made sense she would chat with them most. “If anyone is going to flirt with her, it’s going to be me!”

“I’ll sit you for less, Callie,” Charlie warned.

She couldn’t help but laugh. But she didn’t mind the attention nor care. It was adorable. Like a group of puppies looking for attention. With a shake of her head, she made her way around the glass and boards for another angle of the players on the ice. She wanted shots of the goalie. Niall Horan seemed much too nice to be a hockey player but perhaps that’s why he was the goalie. He was the first one to introduce himself and he didn’t seem to have the temper that the other players did over trivial things (like tying skates together or putting salt in someone’s Gatorade). Niall blocked shots from his teammates as if it was nothing but breathing. In a way it was stunning, nearly beautiful.

Hockey was violent, yes. But there was beauty in it, too. The way players skated backwards, cupped the puck on their stick. The speed, agility, and gracefulness required to stay standing. It was all really beautiful, and she was excited to be up close this time around. For the last two years she had been in a box cheering for her ex-boyfriend, right forward for the Glacier Wolves, Kael Crowe.

To be completely honest, she should have known it wouldn’t have worked out. Among the cheating, the belittling, and all the other things that were, in hindsight, an abysmal part of dating him, the orange and blue coloring wasn’t her favorite. The Arctic Chargers black and silver jerseys were much more her speed. Kael was her boyfriend of years and years but once he made it to the majors three years ago, things were very different.

“You can come on the ice, Sweetheart, we’re almost done!” Asher said.

Even though she had dated a hockey player for nearly a decade (most of which took place during college) she couldn’t skate. Uncle Charlie tried when she was younger to teach her, but the balance and coordination was not in her wheelhouse. She longed to skate better. Figure skaters were so dainty and beautiful as they glided on the ice. She was neither of those things and almost dreaded getting on the ice in the boots she was wearing. If she fell in front of her uncle, it was embarrassing. She could only imagine how embarrassing it would be in front of an entire professional hockey team.

“One second!”

She wanted to prolong the agony. Plus, with her fragile camera it seemed like a death sentence to send her out there. Even if it was what she was getting paid to do. It wasn’t the most lucrative job she had, but it was what she wanted to do most. She was grateful for the opportunity and hoped it would kickstart into something more. Photography was a major passion for her. Pictures of anything. Her computer was filled with pictures of the sun and sky from the summer. Snowy days in the winter. Pictures of her parents’ dog. Her uncle’s kids on birthdays. She was the official photographer of family weddings and more. But it wasn’t steady. A lot of her post-college young life had been put on hold to dote on Kael. Something she regretted but couldn’t do anything about now.

Uncle Charlie was kind to help her out and she thought starting now was better than never starting at all.

“Styles is that you?!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t piss yourselves in excitement,” the voice was right beside her.

“You better be fucking cleared before touching this rink,” Ray Wheeler, head coach and another surrogate uncle to her was a bit gruffer in his delivery to the players than Charlie most of the time.

The man beside her slapped his hand, paper held pressed to the glass. “Doctor-cleared for takeoff,” he called. A round of cheers went up and she snapped another picture of the excitement, ignoring the one and only Harry Styles beside her.

Harry Styles was Kael’s rival. The same draft class (although begrudgingly, Kael would admit Harry went first), and almost the same position—left forward. Fortunately, they were in different conferences, so they only ever played one another twice a season. Unless they made it to finals which hadn’t happened yet. But in her opinion, it was only a matter of time. Harry made headlines for his skill and ability, fitness, and overall dominance on the ice. He was protective of his best friend in goal—he and Niall were a pair like no other. Which meant when they did play each other, Kael knew exactly how to get under Harry’s skin.

“Who are you?” He asked.

Harry wasn’t here for her formal introduction to the team. Before she could open her mouth, Uncle Charlie was there. “That’s my niece Styles. She’s off limits so just make your way to the locker room.”

“Ah,” he smiled.

It should have been noted that in addition to skill and ability, fitness, and dominance on the ice, Harry was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. His eyes were green which sure as hell meant God was in fact a woman because no man would know to make Harry even more beautiful with forest green eyes. He was tall, even taller on skates. His skin glowed in a way that should have been illegal when she spent half an hour dousing her face in ten moisturizing products each night to achieve the same look and Harry spent most of his time indoors on an ice rink. Was it the chill that made his cheeks pinker? Would she get the same glow working here all season? She could only hope.

But it was that smile that did her in. His straight teeth peeking out from his lips. The dimples. The arrogance behind the expression. The pink curve of his upturned lips went right through her as he grinned at her.

“Nice t’meet you,” he held his hand out.

“Hands off!” Charlie shouted again.

Harry chuckled as she took his hand with an eyeroll introducing herself. “I’m your photo media specialist, if you will.”

“Excellent,” Harry grinned. “Let me know if y’need me t’pose a certain way,” he winked.

She shook her head and Niall skated up to the side. “Hey Sweetheart,” he said.

“Hi, baby, I missed you,” Harry answered with a grin. Niall shook his head flipping his friend off which made her giggle. Niall remained focused on her.

“Your Uncle said you might need help walking out here.”

“Oh, do we have a skating rookie on our hands?” Harry asked. Her cheeks felt hot under the assumption. Even though it was accurate.

“I suck at skating,” she shrugged. There wasn’t any use playing it off—they would know in a matter of seconds. “I get too nervous and lose my balance,” she admitted.

They both tilted their heads at her. She knew that vulnerability wasn’t something seen on the ice. It seemed almost trivial to admit, but she knew it clearly threw them for a loop. “I can walk you out,” Harry offered with that sinfully delicious smile.

“Coach said he was going to rebreak all of your fingers if you touch her."

“Oh, please let me walk you out,” Harry practically bounced with excitement.

She worried her eyes were going to remain in the back of her head from rolling them so much, but she supposed that would come with the territory with working for a group of boys. “Thank you, Niall. I should be okay. Just don’t let anyone laugh at me too much if I fall on my butt.”

“We don’t want you t’fall on such a pretty asset, Rookie. Are y’sure I can’t help?”

She ignored Harry, keeping her eyes on Niall. “No one will laugh,” he assured her, a smile toying at his lips as he slipped his helmet back on. “I offered, but she’s stubborn like you, Coach!”

The laughter that ensued was a good distraction for her to make her move. She unlocked the rink door and stepped onto the ice following behind Niall. Each step was carefully taken, knowing the traction of her winter boots were better than any other pair of shoes she owned but would never compare to the blade of skate.

Three little steps was about as far as she could go it seemed. Right as her footing was about to be lost on her and send her to the hard ice, a hand caught her elbow and kept her upright. “Rookie, love,” he tisked. “I told you I could help.”

She looked at him briefly knowing that his good looks got him any girl he wanted. She heard the rumors of the string of girls he had (perhaps one for every city he visited) and she knew of every bad thing that Kael had to say about him. But the kindness of him to catch her was sweet. Even she couldn’t deny that. Kael merely laughed each time she fell, it wasn’t mean spirited per se, but it was almost like he was glad she couldn’t skate. A way to be better than her.

God, she wished she had taken the hint a lot sooner.

Harry’s skates weren’t even tied yet. “Jus’ wait,” he said and knelt to lace them up. She had to imagine he rushed to get out here just knowing she wouldn’t make it across the ice.

Once tied, Harry held her elbow again and skated so effortlessly beside her barely moving as he glided alongside her. No one paid attention to her slow steps, and she could feel Harry’s grip firm but not hard on her arm. Almost sensing when she was going to misstep before she did. It made her heart skip a beat.

No. She couldn’t think like that. She wasn’t going to fall for another hockey player ever.

“M’teaching m’niece t’skate. I can teach you,” he shrugged. It wasn’t arrogant the way he said it. She was sure anyone else that knew she was in their mid-twenties (especially someone with a famous hockey player for an ex-boyfriend of eight years, and famous major league hockey coach for an uncle) would expect her to be able to skate. Instead, one of the top players in the league was at her elbow barely acknowledging that it was weird. Perhaps the vulnerability she mentioned to him and Niall really meant something to him. Or maybe she was just reading into it—which she definitely shouldn’t have been reading into it.

“It’s a real shame you won’t have that hand to play with after all, Harry,” Uncle Charlie shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Charlie, I can handle a group of boys,” she rolled her eyes again, earning a bout of laughter from the group. But she knew that Uncle Charlie was worried about Harry specifically. He was a lot like Kael. In another life, Harry would have been a weakness for her. But not anymore. She was done with hockey guys.

“M’jus’ making sure she doesn’t fall. Sad y’couldn’t teach her t’skate. Some uncle you are,” he shrugged casually.

The group laughed again, and she smirked. Charlie ignored the childish behavior of his players but rubbed his middle finger on his nose like he had an itch aimed for Harry “They’re all yours, Sweetheart. Just tell them where you want them. They’ve all been instructed to listen carefully unless they want to do suicides tomorrow at practice, so be honest if they don’t listen. Or lie if you see fit,” Uncle Charlie remarked making everyone groan. “Harry, go get your gear she needs individual pictures too.”

His eyes flickered to Niall for several seconds. Right as he released her arm, Niall now stood beside her and waited for direction. He didn’t hold her elbow like Harry did, but it was clear there was an unspoken message they shared telepathically. That little flutter in her chest made it’s appearance once more solely because Harry was kind to her about her inability to skate.

No, she wasn’t going to fall for it.

She wasn’t going to fall for the hot left wing of her uncle’s team just because he offered to teach her to skate and didn’t make fun of her because she couldn’t.

Nope. She wasn’t.

Not even a little.

Right?

*

The boys were decidedly sweet. Despite the fact it was like trying to wrangle a group of twenty toddlers into one spot. They sat nicely for their headshots individually, but once she tried to get them into various poses and group shots with their respective lines it proved a little more difficult. (Don’t even get her started on how the whole team shot went).

Harry stood beside her while she took pictures of everyone but him. His presence was comforting in a way she didn’t want to admit so readily. It had been less than an hour since she spoke to him. When he returned with all his gear in place, he held a small rug that the coaches often used to stand at center ice and call drills. He laid it before her feet, and she didn’t have to worry as much about falling. Niall was her test subject in front of the goal. When she wanted to get another angle, Harry scooped up the little mat and held her elbow and let her guide while he slid alongside her at a pace that was much too slow for a professional hockey player. But Harry didn’t seem to mind.

“Can I see?” He asked while the others skated around, messing around at the other end of the rink. She was now at the bench where she was safe from slipping. Harry leaned over the rail, dropping his gloves onto the wooden seat beside her. She offered her camera to him. Carefully he cradled it, like he knew it really was precious to her. Silently, he looked at the little screen. A smile grew on his face as he admired how his pictures came out. “These are awesome, Rookie.”

“Thank you,” did her cheeks feel warmer from the compliment? She smiled softly as he looked through several photos of himself. Harry Styles was lucky he didn’t have a bad side. Not that she would tell him that.

“How come y’didn’t do this for Crowe’s team?” He asked clicking through photos of his teammates.

She blinked, the smile melting from her face. “You know about me and Kael?”

“Well, yeah. S’the whole hands-off talk Coach gave us. Said you’re done with hockey players,” Harry shrugged one shoulder, his gaze focused on the lines and group shots on the screen of her camera. “Fortunately for me, I don’t consider your ex a real hockey player,” he smiled at the screen. “But I haven’t told Coach ‘bout that loophole jus’ yet.”

She snorted and shook her head. The flirty comment was cute. She could admit that. Plus, a dig at her shitty ex made her feel a little lighter. But she wasn’t going to fall for Harry’s easy-going charisma.

If she repeated it to herself enough, it would stick.

“I will not be dating real and-or imaginary hockey players,” she told him.

“At least give me a chance t’change your mind, Rookie,” he offered.

“No, thank you,” she shook her head politely. He frowned. She laughed softly. “You genuinely look down by my answer.”

“Hell yeah,” he scowled. “Y’take pretty pictures and y’wrangled this ragtag group,” he sighed almost dreamily. “And you’re absolutely beautiful t’boot.”

That made her smile, at least. He was an expert flirter. “Thank you, Harry. I appreciate that.”

“Enough t’let me take you on a date?”

“No.”

“Ugh.”

She laughed again. “Thank you for helping me around the ice,” she said graciously. “I’ll tell Uncle Charlie you were a perfect gentleman after he left.”

“Rookie, love, you’ll ruin m’reputation,” he called after her as she made her way around the rink toward the exit.

*

Her apartment was not in the nice part of town. To be fair, it was only just over the border from the nicer side. From her place she could see the bar she would be working at on the days she wouldn’t be at the rink. She hadn’t told Uncle Charlie about it because she knew he would be pissed if he saw where she lived. But it was the right price and honestly, the other tenants weren’t bad.

She suspected one of her neighbors on the first floor was... an entrepreneur... for his... small business. Michael was very wary of her at first, but she was lucky because he wore a hockey jersey the day, she met him, Callie’s number and name on the front and back. She hadn’t gone to the rink yet because she was getting a lot of her things and affairs settled. That evening she moved in, she got him tickets to a home game through her uncle (along with a dozen cookies to welcome herself to the building). To his credit, Michael looked weary that the tickets were fake, but the cookies were good. They weren’t special seats or anything, but they weren’t bad seats either. He knocked on her door the day after the game and it was clear she wasn’t going to have any issues with her neighbor. “That was cool. If you need anything, I got you,” he assured her with a grin. “That car you got, I’ll keep an eye on it for you when you’re not around... you’re too sweet to be living here.”

She smiled. “Thanks Michael.”

On the second floor lived an older couple. They kept to themselves, but she was sure to give them a dozen cookies as well and offered to shovel out their cars when it snowed. But once Michael saw her out there shoveling, he joined her as well. She brought a hockey stick autographed by the whole team for their grandson. She couldn’t wait to hear how he enjoyed that Christmas gift.

Her neighbor on the third floor just down the hall was Marcellus. He went by Marc and told her that he had a boyfriend and if she had an issue with that, it was too fucking bad. The previous tenant must have been a piece of work. She laughed at him, handed off her dozen cookies and shrugged. “If he breaks your heart, I have a team of hockey boys who can take him on,” she giggled.

So, Marc loved her too.

She wouldn’t be jogging around the neighborhood any time soon, but it was nice she wouldn’t have to worry about her car being stolen (although good luck to anyone who tried to get that piece of crap to start without a prayer), or getting robbed on her way into the building.

Inside her little studio apartment was a small kitchen. There was enough space for a small loveseat, a bed, and TV. She had a coffee table and a counter to sit at for breakfast. The bathroom was surprisingly spacious and modern for a rundown studio apartment building.

After a full day at the rink, she was chilly. A shower was just what she needed before she ventured into the cold again. Letting the hot water soothe her cold neck and back was so nice. While her hair air-dried, she transferred and then sifted through her pictures on her laptop. The edits she made were small. The lighting and shadows only needed to be adjusted a little. She loved the natural look of the of the players in their element.

She forwarded the photos to Charlie for approval, and he would send them to the higher ups for printing.

They look stunning, Sweetheart. Incredible job.

Grinning she looked over the photos she took of Harry again. He was by far the best-looking guy on the team (not that the others weren’t good-looking but alas). Even in the photos where you couldn’t see his pretty face, there was a presence that made him look more attractive. It was obvious he was a good player. His talent was evident in the photos, and she was proud of herself for being able to capture it.

There was a knock on her door. She padded quietly across the room, peeked through the peephole to see Marc, before she opened it. “Hi,” she smiled.

“You have to teach me hockey,” he said. “This man is obsessed, and I don’t even know what you call the ball.”

“Puck.”

“Exactly.” She laughed. He glanced around her apartment. “Your talents are wasted on this run-down place—holy hottie, who’s that?”

Her computer screen remained on Harry’s smiling individual photo. Dimples on full display and looking intense but happy. “That’s Harry Styles.”

“I think I’ll like hockey after all.”

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Listen, I have a shift I have to get to, but there’s a game on tomorrow afternoon, come over and we’ll watch it, and I’ll teach you,” she offered.

“Bring flashcards of the players. It’ll make me more interested.”

She tied the apron around her waist as he sifted through the photos. “God damn, is this what all hockey players look like?” He asked.

“Bye Marc,” she pulled his arm and pushed him toward her door. “See you tomorrow.”

*

The Locker Room was a local restaurant owned by Louis Tomlinson. It was a hot spot for the players to go to on off days and after a win (they refrained from going after a loss unless absolutely necessary). The fans that went were not allowed to be aggressive about the players, but after a while, they got used to seeing the players so often, it became a nice place to be themselves.

Asher and Lang were playing darts while Niall and Callie focused on a game of pool. Harry sat back sipping his beer analyzing his contacts looking for the hookup he wanted for the evening. They had curfew at midnight since there was a game tomorrow evening which left him with ample time to peruse his list, meet up with the girl, and get home by midnight before he turned into a pumpkin.

“Who’s the lucky lady tonight?” Louis asked clapping a hand on Harry’s back.

“Haven’t decided yet,” he chuckled.

“Well, when the new waitress comes over, you are not to make her uncomfortable. I already warned her.”

“I would never,” he rolled his eyes, still scanning the names.

“Uh-huh,” Louis nodded. “Of course. Tell your teammates too. She’s off limits.”

“What’s up with every new girl being off limits in our life?” Callie asked.

“Coach won’t let us date his niece and you won’t let us date the new girl,” Niall explained to Louis for clarification.

“Fortunately, it’s the same person, so you don’t have to lose out on two girls.”

Harry pulled away from his screen to admire the pretty girl he met at the rink earlier in the day. His grin grew. “Oh, Rookie, it’s you,” he cooed.

“Oh Jesus,” Louis sighed. “Watch out for that one, love,” he patted her on the back.

“So, I’ve heard,” she smiled.

“Is she ours?” Asher asked excitedly.

“As long as you don’t torture her,” Louis shrugged.

“We would never!”

“Eleanor refuses to set foot back here because of you all.”

“Hire meaner waitstaff.”

“Best of luck, love,” Louis shook his head.

“What can I get you guys?” She asked sweetly.

“Uncle Charlie doesn’t pay you enough that you have to slum it here?” Lang asked.

“I heard that!” Louis shouted.

Harry was...quite taken. From the moment he laid eyes on her. The concentration on her face as she took pictures, the way her hair was pinned up, how bundled she was. Her smile was sexy. The quips that spilt from her mouth perhaps even sexier. Harry was certain she was a dream because good things at the rink consisted of goals, interviews, and the pizza from the snack bar. Not a pretty girl with an expensive camera and his assistant coach as her uncle.

Now her hair was still pinned back, an apron tied around her waist, and the black and silver uniform as homage to his own. Harry wanted her draped in the number eleven and his name on her back ASAP.

It was cute she couldn’t skate. Cute how passionate she was on day one taking pictures. She wasn’t flustered by their rowdiness, or their annoying nature. Harry knew that she was used to hockey boys—had to be if her ex was one of the top forwards in the league (although Harry didn’t recognize that too often). He liked how she didn’t take shit from them but was still kind. She was funny, creative, and lovely.

And he only saw her in action for a short time.

But it was enough to make him put his phone away and not think about hooking up with someone tonight. His focus would be on her waiting on the team and (hopefully) getting to know her more so he could rationalize falling for someone so out of his league and someone so off limits.

“Hi Rookie, love,” Harry smiled as she approached his table. She took orders from the other four hanging around.

“Hi Harry,” she answered.

“M’happy to see you again.”

She nodded. “It’s only been a few hours, Harry.”

“S’too long t’go without seeing your pretty face,” he assured her.

She rolled her eyes, but Harry noticed how her cheeks flushed with color. “What do you want to drink?” She asked instead.

“Are you on the menu?”

“Does that work on other girls?”

“Yes.”

“It’s probably because of the hockey thing you have going on. I promise it wouldn’t work if you weren’t a professional,” she shrugged.

“Good thing m’very professional,” he continued, his voice flirty.

“I’m putting down whatever the other guys said,” she shook her head and headed off to get the drinks.

“Harry, don’t bother her. Coach said she’s off-limits,” Niall reminded him while Callie took his shot.

“Yeah, she doesn’t strike me as one-night-stand material,” Asher murmured focusing on his dart going directly into the board.

“Mmm,” Harry sighed. In the brief interaction he had with her, he kind of figured that too. In fact, given she had been with Crowe for nearly a decade, he imagined she didn’t have too much experience dating other than her ex. Not that he would force her—or any woman. Like he said they all knew what they signed up for. Harry wasn’t great at the whole relationship thing. He was constantly traveling with the team. Practice most days, games most nights. Relationships were often one-sided and tiresome. It wasn’t fair to expect someone to wait for five months of the year to have a relationship.

One-night stands were better for him.

But he could at least ask her if she was willing to try him out. God, knew he wanted to try her out the second he looked at her.

“Your drinks,” she announced setting them on Harry’s table. He eyed her as she set the drinks down from the little tray in her arm. “Do you guys want food?” She asked.

“Are you on the menu now?”

“Jesus Christ,” Lang shook his head.

“You’re embarrassing us, Styles,” Callie sighed.

“Chicken wings, you said?” She asked scribbling on the pad of paper in her hand. “Great choice. Do you want anything else?” Harry smiled, opened his mouth to speak but she turned immediately. “Not you,” she said over her shoulder and sauntered over to the pool table. Lang and Asher chuckled to themselves at Harry’s strike out.

“You’re our hero, Sweetheart,” Asher sighed dreamily.

*

When Harry was on the ice there were zero thoughts of anything but slicing up the ice with the blade of his skate. He thought about the opponent across from him. The puck sliding across the ice and into the net. Protecting Niall in goal if anyone dared to lay a hand on him.

But now when they had timeouts, or when he was waiting for the puck to come up to him, he saw the pretty girl with her camera lens pressed to the glass, or in the cut out for the press. Her little badge draped around her neck looked so cute. Everything about her was cute and dainty.

Crowe was a fucking idiot to let her go.

Which made him wonder why he chose to break up with someone so pretty and witty. Creative as well.

Fuck. Coach was going to kill him.

But she really stood her ground. In the month that she had been part of the team, she seemed damn near impervious to Harry’s flirting. Harry worked hard to make her blush (which he could see was easy) but it took a lot to make her speechless. It was obvious Crowe didn’t treat her well. It seemed like Harry’s attention to her was the only time she had been shown affection. That alone pissed him off and made him hate him more. It was like she had never been told how pretty she was. Even when Harry wasn’t actively flirting with her, when he complimented her hair or how her pictures came out, she seemed completely off-guard.

What a fucking dick.

Harry once more wondered why they broke up. He still hadn’t figured it out. There was no way she wasn’t the perfect girlfriend. Especially for a hockey player. For all the reasons Harry didn’t date, she knew precisely what she was getting into and did it anyway. But she doted on his teammates as if she was dating all of them (there was no other way to describe it.) She always had extra tape for sticks. She walked with her cross body filled with supplies for hangovers, minor injuries, and the like. When she waited on them at Louis’ place, she knew their orders and had them ready almost like clockwork for when they arrived.

“Styles!” Coach Wheeler called. “If you’re not going to practice, you can sit out!” He shouted.

Shaking his head, Harry tried to rid his mind of the team’s photographer. The coach’s niece. His pretty waitress.

The star of all his dreams as of late.

*

“Sweetheart, where do you want us?!” Lang called.

She was on the bench, waiting to take some gameday photos. Today she was wearing skates, which made Harry nervous. He knew if she went down, she would protect her precious camera and he didn’t blame her, but it he hated the thought of her getting hurt. “Just by the—” She sighed, closing her eyes mid-sentence and she put her phone to her ear. “Stop fucking calling,” she snapped and then put her phone in her pocket again. “By the goal,” she cleared her throat.

The team stared at her. “Do you have a stalker, babe?” Asher asked.

“No,” she snorted and looked at her camera. She took a test shot of the empty net to make sure everything was set. She stepped tentatively onto the ice, more graceful than the last time she did. But Harry glided over to her quickly. He didn’t touch her, but he was more than ready to catch her. She ignored his presence, not in a mean way at all. Not an ounce of her was mean. Which is why it was so surprising she had that much malice in her voice on the phone.

“Everything okay, Sweetheart?” Charlie asked.

“Yup,” she popped the ‘puh’ sound.

She slid forward very carefully. “S’kind of shooting yourself in the foot here, Rookie. Figure skates have a better blade for beginners. S’harder t’skate on hockey skates for what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I was always told a hockey blade was thicker, so it was better.”

Harry shrugged. “S’not really that big of a deal in m’opinion. Figure skates have a longer blade, better for y’balance. Charlie set y’up with those?” She shook her head.

“No,” her voice was quiet.

“You bought hockey skates on your own?”

“Can you go stand with your team?” She asked dodging his question. He frowned.

“Yeah, sorry, Rookie, love,” he skated off but whistled at his younger teammate, Garrett, the third string forward for his position. Harry tilted his head in her direction and Garrett went over to her, standing way too far away in case she did fall.

“Who got her the skates?” He mumbled to Charlie. He shrugged.

“Not sure. Probably Kael. I would imagine he got a deal from his sponsors.”

God Harry hated him.

*

Mila was someone he saw on a semi-regular basis. Which meant she knew the drill. After their win, they would do their thing. Harry would stay until she fell asleep—because he wasn’t an asshole; and he wasn’t too proud to admit that he liked cuddling. Even if it was only for a little while—and he would send a text the next day to make sure she felt okay. There was no breakfast, no awkward small talk. Just sex. There was no setup to get feelings hurt or hearts broken. Harry was too busy for a girlfriend, and he would make for a shitty boyfriend.

It was cold when he left her place, and he blew into his hands for warmth when he as he headed to his car. There was a text on his phone from an unknown number.

Thought you would want to see the picture that’s on the front page of the sports section for tomorrow :) There was an impressive picture of Harry’s game winning goal. It wasn’t time sensitive but it was the one that broke the tie. The rest of the team held off the offensive line for the remaining ten minutes of the game.

Thanks, Rookie. I’m going to send it to Mum. She’ll print it for the fridge. How’d you get my number?

Kian gave it to me. Is that alright?

Who?

Callie 🙄 You should really learn your friends’ names. Is it okay I have your number?

Of course it’s alright. Just surprised YOU asked for it. Didn’t know you would want to talk to me so bad. You could have asked me yourself.

Sorry, I think have the wrong number.

He chuckled to himself while his car warmed up. The seat heater was heaven on his stiff muscles. Harry liked the cold—he had to being a hockey player. But it was her funny wit that warmed him from the inside out. Are you all still at Louis’?

Yes. Niall and Noah are about to break the air hockey machine.

Who?

🙄 Asher. Sorry. Jesus.

I’ll be right there, Rookie.

*

The next time the team won, Harry looked at the message from Layla asking if he wanted to come over to celebrate. He didn’t really want to. The guys were headed home because they had an early flight and there was no celebrating. Which meant that the pretty girl he wanted to celebrate with wasn’t going to be out and about either. She wouldn’t be doting on his drunk teammates. Wouldn’t be stopping their stupid fights about who’s turn it was to play her in darts. She wouldn’t be making sure they all made it home safely in the Ubers she ordered.

But Harry couldn’t just hang out with her either. There was no reason. She was basically his teammate and he couldn’t figure why she was so guarded. At least not beyond whatever it was she was dealing with Crowe.

“Is he still calling?” Niall asked looking at her phone the bench while she looked at her camera. Her hair always fell so perfectly as she watched the screen.

“Who?” Lang asked.

She sighed. “It’s just Kael.”

“Why?” Callie asked.

She shrugged. “I would have to answer to find out. Which is the last thing I want to do. I need a new phone number; I just haven’t gotten around to it. My schedule conflicts with most regular business hours so I could go to the store.”

“Charlie, you can’t spare her to give her a day off?” Asher asked.

Her uncle rolled his eyes, flipped him off, and continued practicing with the second and third stringers.

Harry sat beside her and peeked over her shoulder at her photos. “Do y’have any non-hockey photos?” She nodded and picked up her phone that was still showing Crowe blowing up her phone with calls and texts. “Why don’t y’block him, Rookie?” She swiped his notification away and she opened the web browser. It was currently on a recipe for carrot cake cupcakes. “Those look good,” he smiled.

She smirked. “It’s Ray’s birthday next week. Carrot cake is his favorite. Figured I’d make you all cupcakes.”

Harry thought she was too sweet for him. Someone with a lineup of women didn’t deserve her sweetness. Someone who was meeting Arya at her place after practice because he could didn’t get a girl like her. Him meeting Nyla after tomorrow’s away game three states away didn’t get someone like the pretty photographer.

Kael’s name kept popping up. “Y’probably never had t’block anybody before,” Harry said quietly. “D’you know how?” He hoped he didn’t sound condescending. But he had the unfortunate pleasure of blocking someone every now and again.

“I know how,” she laughed softly. “It’s just... with Kael, it’s likely to be a thing, you know?” She shrugged. “It’s easier to ignore him.”

“It probably gives him hope,” Harry frowned.

She held out her phone to him and shrugged. “That’s not my problem. I’ll see him in a couple weeks when we’re up North,” she reminded him. “Hopefully by then he’ll get the message; or I’ll have to talk to him in person.”

Harry took her phone and admired the portfolio of photos she displayed for him. The website was all black making her images pop. She was so talented. There were babies and weddings. There were family portraits and just general landscape shots. All of differing but equal beauty and perfection. Natural. Lovely.

Harry swiped away Kael’s name again and clicked on the menu item of the about section.

Two side by side pictures of the pretty girl next to him were on the screen. One with the camera in front of her eye, the other a sweet smile on her face camera in front of her like a prop. Behind the Lens... Thank you for browsing. If you like what you see, I’d be happy to quote you for any need. I have experience in just about any area of photographing. Thank you for letting me part of you day!

Too sweet for someone who was going to never be able to settle down because of his job. No matter how much he wished she could be part of his day.

Kael’s stupid name popped up again. Without another rational thought, Harry answered the call, pressed the phone to his ear, and skated off knowing she couldn’t go after him.

“Finally, baby,” Kael groaned.

“STYLES HOW DARE YOU!” She screamed.

“Crowe, nice t’hear from you.”

“Who the fuck is this?” He growled.

“HARRY!” She was on the ice in her ever-present boots. They weren’t great for walking on ice. She slipped immediately but Lang was right nearby to help her up. Harry was going to feel guilty about that for ages.

“None of your business,” he shook his head. “She doesn’t want y’calling anymore.”

“What the fuck? Put her on the phone!”

“No,” Harry said defiantly. “She doesn’t want t’talk t’you. Ever. Stop calling y’piece of shit.”

Lang looked at Harry wildly as he glided with the pretty girl clutching to his arm. She smacked Harry multiple times on the arm and chest making the coaches laugh. “Give me the phone!” She snapped.

“Give her the phone!” He repeated. “Listen to her!”

“No, y’don’t deserve her,” Harry stepped out of her reach where she lost her balance as she lunged for him. She fell again catching her hands. Thank God she didn’t have her camera. Lang helped her to her feet again and Harry felt a wave of guilt wash over him again. “Y’didn’t appreciate her, her talent, or anything. Y’didn’t get her the right skates, and I don’t know what y’did t’piss her off so bad, but y’not getting her back,” Harry said it so casually. But every word was meant for her.

“Is that you, Styles?” Crowe snarled.

“Bye Crowe, see you in a month!” He said cheerily handing the phone off to her.

She nearly fell again despite holding onto Lang. “What the hell, Harry!”

“I got rid of him,” he shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

Her face was beat red with embarrassment. Her hands had to be cold from the fall. But she still looked adorable as always. Even with a sour expression, she was sweet. Pretty beyond belief. Wide eyes, soft skin, even her nose was cute. She glared at him and spun on her heel. “Get me away from him,” she snapped.

Harry sighed, feeling bummed he pissed her off too much. Lang shook his head at Harry as he helped her back to the bench. She packed up her things and left.

But he couldn’t help but notice that her phone had stopped ringing.

*

She was still mad at him a week later. If she ignored his flirting before, this was an entire new level. She hardly acknowledged his presence. He missed her. In a weird way. He enjoyed bugging her, but perhaps it went to far. It was an invasion of her personal life that he wasn’t privy to, and he didn’t really have any right to deal with her ex-boyfriend.

That didn’t mean anything he said wasn’t anything but the truth.

“Hey Rookie,” he said as she entered the room to get their drink orders for the evening.

“Hi everybody,” she grinned at everyone in turn and glared at Harry.

“Boy you pissed her off,” Niall chuckled.

He shrugged. “Worth it,” because it was. He hated Kael before, he hoped he got the clue.

“You know she had to talk to him, right?” Callie asked. Harry’s head snapped up from his phone screen looking at his contacts once more. Harry wasn’t sure he could pinpoint it exactly but his evenings with the women in his phone were leaving him less and less fulfilled. He wasn’t looking for any grand pronouncements of love. That wasn’t his thing. But the idea of spending the evening with someone didn’t give him the same excitement as it used to.

It was probably the day he met her. But it was sinking in more over the week she had barely spoken to him. “What do y’mean?” He frowned.

“Crowe? She had to talk to him after that stunt you pulled.”

Harry glowered at the table. “Why?”

“Because he wouldn’t stop blowing up her phone and he was threatening to come to her if she didn’t just talk to him. Why do you think she didn’t come with us on the plane the next day?”

Harry felt like a jerk. “Oh.”

“She hates you,” Asher reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. “She could have told one of us,” he mumbled. Harry would have sat outside her apartment waiting for him.

“I don’t know if you noticed Harry, but she’s pretty private,” Niall sighed leaning on his pool stick. “I know you meant well, but it kind of fucked up her day.”

Harry pouted. He met her gaze as she brought their drinks out.

And if she spilled Harry’s on him, well, he supposed he deserved that.

*

Harry was a great hockey player, a great friend. A great brother and son. Not to toot his own horn but he thought he truly was the World’s Best Uncle like it said on the T-shirt Gemma had got him when she told him she was pregnant. He was still pretty humble all things considered; always looking to improve. Coach Wheeler was one of his favorite mentors (right after his mum) and he strived to do better by them.

He was bad at Chemistry in school. He wasn’t good at Sudoku. Most recently he felt like he was bad at having sex. The thing he had going with the women he knew didn’t seem to be working for him the way it used to. There was an awkwardness to the hookups when he left. He wasn’t mentally present in the moment.

Harry was pretty certain he would be a shitty boyfriend.

He needed her forgiveness, or the other remaining areas of his life were going to get worse too.

Most notably, he was shit in practice. He worried he was going to be demoted to second string.

Harry arrived early to practice, putting goals in the net two hours before everyone else arrived. He would have to pay to resurface the ice twenty minutes before practice officially started. But he hoped that she was going to show up early with her carrot cake cupcakes. He anticipated she would be just one short. Which Harry deserved on top of everything else too.

Fortunately, she did arrive early.

“Hey,” he waved.

She ignored him, set the cupcakes down on the bench and pulled out her camera. She fiddled with it, wiping the lens off with a cloth, and took some test shots of the ice.

“Rookie, love,” he sighed and skated over to the bench.

“Yes, Mr. Styles? Can I help you?”

“C’mon, Rookie, I’m sorry,” he frowned. “I was just trying to help.”

She rolled her eyes and ignored him. “You must get whatever you want all the time.”

He frowned. “No, I don’t actually,” although from her perspective he could see what she meant.

“Well, me either, so if I’m going to be miserable. So are you.”

He snorted, shook his head. He stepped off the ice and sat on the bench beside her. “I’m sorry, Bunny. Really. I hated that he was bothering you. I didn’t mean t’make it worse, honest. I would have done the same for m’sister or any one of the guys’ girls.”

“I am an adult Harry. I’m independent and I can handle my own shit. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I understand. M’sorry, really. I won’t do it again. But m’sick of y’being mad at me. S’been no fun this week without skating you around, grossly overtipping you jus’ so you’ll spend extra time with us,” he smiled shyly at her.

She sucked her lip into her mouth. For a moment she looked at her lap, obviously thinking something over. “How’d you know he bought me the wrong skates?” Her voice was quiet.

Harry blinked wondering how long she had that question locked and loaded. He shrugged. “I asked Charlie. He said he didn’t. So, I assumed it had to be him.”

She sighed and looked up. “He said figure skates would make me look like try-hard. Hockey skates would make me look more like I belonged on his arm,” she explained. “I didn’t know. I would have...” she shook her head. “It was eye-opening when you said that, and it hurt... and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry too.”

Harry sighed with relief. “You don’t have t’apologize,” he promised. “I’m sorry. Seriously.”

“Apology accepted.”

Harry grabbed her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Thanks Bunny.”

She wrinkled her nose at him in distaste. “I don’t like Bunny.”

“Oh...” his smile grew by the second. “Y’don’t Rookie, love?” He chuckled standing up and getting back on the ice. “Y’probably shouldn’t have told me that,” he winked and skated off.

“There’s no cupcake for you!” She called.

“That’s okay, Bunny!” He shouted back with a grin and sank a shot from half-ice.

Maybe Harry would be a shitty boyfriend, but he was going to be her best friend instead.

--

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[neferaskingdom]

♡ Two Lattes and a Truce, Please | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: WAR IS OVER

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

Max barely had time to react before George slammed him harder against the wall, his forearm pressing into Max’s chest. The eerily calm facade George had worn moments earlier had shattered, his eyes burning with unrestrained fury.

“How dare you?” George hissed, his voice low and shaking with rage. “How dare you go after my sister? Was this some twisted ploy to get back at me?”

Max blinked, stunned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” George snapped, his volume rising. “Do you hate me so much that you thought screwing my family was fair game? What kind of sick—”

“That’s enough,” Max growled, shoving George’s arm off his chest and stepping forward. His tone was sharp, cutting through George’s tirade. “This isn’t about you, George. This was never about you.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit,” George shot back, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’ve been dating her for over a year, Max! Behind my back! You can’t stand me, fine, but don’t drag my sister into this mess. And now—” His voice cracked slightly as his fury spiked again. “Now, you’ve got her pregnant?”

Max stiffened at the accusation, his jaw tightening. “Yes, we’ve been together for over a year. And no, this wasn’t some game or some vendetta. I love her.”

George let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Love her? That’s rich coming from you. You’ve spent years with a reputation for flings and one-night stands, and now you expect me to believe you’re suddenly the poster boy for commitment?”

Max’s eyes flashed. “You don’t get to decide how I feel about her. And you don’t know anything about us. She’s not just your sister, George—she’s my everything.”

George’s face twisted with a mix of anger and betrayal. “We used to be friends, Max. Before all this… tension, before the media shitstorm, I trusted you. And now I find out you’ve been sneaking around with my sister, lying to me—”

“We weren’t sneaking around to hurt you,” Max cut in. His voice softened slightly, but the edge remained. “We didn’t tell you because we knew this is exactly how you’d react. You wouldn’t have given me a chance.”

“And why the hell should I have?” George shouted, taking a step forward. “You could’ve come to me! You should’ve come to me! Instead, you lied to my face for a year, Max.”

Before the argument could escalate further, a panicked voice echoed down the alley.

“George!”

Both men turned to see Y/n running toward them, her expression a mix of frustration and fear.

“What the hell are you doing?” she yelled, her voice cracking. “George, let him go!”

George hesitated for a fraction of a second before releasing Max, stepping back but still glaring at him.

Max rubbed his shoulder, muttering, “Nice timing.”

“How did you even find us?” George asked, his tone clipped.

“Alex,” Y/n panted, shooting Max a look. “He saw you dragging Max into this alley and told me to come save his life before you did something stupid.”

Max snorted despite himself, but Y/n quickly rounded on him. “You—go. Let me talk to him.”

Max frowned, clearly reluctant. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Max. Go,” she insisted, her eyes darting between him and George.

After a tense moment, Max exhaled sharply and stepped back. “Fine. But I’m not going far.”

George’s jaw was tight as he stared down at Y/n, the tension in his posture palpable. He hadn’t moved since Max left, his silence heavier than any shouting match they’d ever had.

“George,” Y/n started softly, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry for avoiding you. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” George snapped, his tone clipped but not loud. He wasn’t angry enough to yell anymore, but his voice was laced with hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me, Y/n? I thought we shared everything.”

She flinched at the edge in his voice. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” he repeated incredulously, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a near whisper, raw with emotion. “You could never disappoint me. But lying to me for over a year? Keeping this from me? That’s not like you.”

Her chest tightened, and tears pricked her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, George. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you. You’ve made it so clear how you feel about me dating other drivers. I didn’t want you to—”

“To what? Disown you? Hate you?” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “You’re my sister, Y/n. Nothing, nothing, could make me hate you.”

Y/n bit her lip, the weight of his words cracking through her defenses. “I was afraid,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “Afraid of how you’d react, afraid you wouldn’t approve. Max… he just…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

George raised an eyebrow, his arms crossing over his chest. “He just what?”

“He grew on me, okay?” she blurted, throwing her hands in the air. “Like a fungus! He’s annoying and stubborn and so full of himself sometimes, but he’s also… sweet and caring and—”

“Fungus? Seriously?” George interrupted, giving her an exasperated look.

“Don’t make fun of me right now!” she snapped, glaring at him through her tears. “This is hard enough as it is.”

George sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, fine. Fungus. Go on.”

She hesitated, taking a deep breath. “Before I knew it, I was in love with him. And I was terrified of what you’d say, of how you’d look at me. I didn’t want to lose you, George. You’re my big brother. I need you.”

His expression softened slightly, but the hurt in his eyes remained. “You never had to worry about losing me, Y/n. But you’ve got to understand how blindsided I feel right now. You’ve been lying to me for a year. A whole year. That’s a long time to keep something this big from me.”

She nodded, her tears spilling over. “I know. And I’m sorry. But I couldn’t keep hiding it. I love him, George. I love this baby. They’re my family now, but I don’t want to lose you in the process. Please don’t make me choose.”

George’s gaze dropped to her stomach, where her hand rested protectively. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his defenses cracking. “You’re really having a baby,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Y/n nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. You’re going to be an uncle.”

The words seemed to hit him like a freight train. His eyes widened slightly, and for the first time, his anger gave way to something softer—something vulnerable. “An uncle,” he repeated, as if trying to wrap his head around it.

“Yeah,” she said again, a small smile breaking through her tears. “And judging by that face, you’re already a mess about it.”

George blinked rapidly, as though trying to hide the tears forming in his eyes. “I’m not a mess,” he said gruffly, clearing his throat.

“Oh, please,” Y/n teased, stepping closer. “You’re totally about to cry. Look at you. Mr. Stoic is cracking.”

“I am not,” he insisted, though his voice wavered.

Y/n let out a watery laugh, poking him lightly in the chest. “You’re going to be such a softie with this kid. I can already see it—Uncle George, buying them whatever they want, teaching them how to drive a go-kart.”

He shook his head, finally letting out a small laugh despite himself. “Don’t push your luck.”

She smiled up at him, her tears drying as the tension between them eased. “I mean it, George. You’re going to be an amazing uncle.”

George looked at her for a long moment, his emotions written all over his face. Finally, he stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug, holding her as if he never wanted to let go.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted,” he murmured against her hair. “I just… I didn’t know what to do. But I’m here now. For you, for the baby—for all of it. I promise.”

Y/n clung to him, her own tears returning but this time from relief. “Thank you,” she whispered.

As they pulled back, George’s eyes flicked to her stomach again, a small, hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “An uncle,” he said again, softer this time.

“Yep,” Y/n said, grinning. “And I fully expect you to cry when you meet them.”

He rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed him. “Not a chance.”

“We’ll see,” she teased, poking his shoulder.

George held Y/n in a tight embrace, his protective big-brother instincts still warring with the softer emotions breaking through. As he finally pulled back, his eyes flickered with something sharper. He crossed his arms and glanced toward the direction Max had left.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said, his tone firm, “I might have forgiven you, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him.”

Y/n groaned softly, already dreading where this was going. “George, come on—”

“No,” George cut her off, raising a hand. “You lied to me, yes, but Max went behind my back for a year. A year, Y/n! And then he let this whole thing explode in the most dramatic way possible.”

“It wasn’t exactly planned,” Y/n muttered, cheeks flushing.

George scoffed. “Planned or not, he’s got a lot to answer for. I’m willing to let go of our public feud for your sake but that doesn’t mean Max gets off easy. He needs to prove himself.”

“Prove himself?” she echoed, exasperated. “George, what does that even mean?”

“It means,” George said, his expression deadly serious, “that he needs to show me he’s good enough for you. And he’d better get down on one knee while he’s at it.”

Y/n’s face turned scarlet. “Oh my God, George. Stop.”

“Nope,” George said stubbornly, his tone matter-of-fact. “This is my right as your older brother after the shit you two pulled. You don’t get to say anything about it. I’m exercising my privileges.”

She buried her face in her hands, groaning. “I can’t believe this. I’m going to die of embarrassment.”

George smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Good. That’s exactly how you’re supposed to feel after pulling something like this.”

“You’re impossible,” she mumbled, but there was no real venom in her voice.

“And you’re stuck with me,” he shot back, his grin softening into something more affectionate.

Despite her embarrassment, Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, nudging him lightly. “Fine. But can we at least agree that you’ll keep this lecture to just me and Max? No ambushing us at family dinner or something?”

“No promises,” George teased, but his smile made it clear he wasn’t entirely serious.

The next morning Max stood in front of the hotel, staring at the text from George for what felt like the hundredth time. “Meet me at my hotel for coffee. 10 AM. We need to talk.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure if this was going to be another thinly veiled trap or a genuine olive branch. After yesterday’s confrontation, he wasn’t holding his breath. But for Y/n’s sake, he’d go through whatever hoops George wanted him to.

He took a deep breath and walked into the lobby, spotting George sitting at a quiet corner table. Two mugs of coffee sat in front of him, steam still rising from the cups. George’s posture was straight, his face set in an unreadable expression. Max approached cautiously, offering a small nod as he slid into the chair across from him.

“Morning,” George said, his tone neutral but clipped.

“Morning,” Max replied, equally measured.

“Thanks for coming,” George said as Max slid into the seat across from him.

“I figured I didn’t have much of a choice,” Max replied lightly, though his voice held no hostility.

George gave a small smile, almost amused, but it faded quickly. “Look, I wanted to say… about yesterday. I didn’t handle things well. I was angry, and I let it get the better of me. But that doesn’t mean I regret defending my sister.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them almost tangible. George was the first to break it, leaning forward slightly as he spoke. “I thought it was time we had a proper conversation, away from the cameras, away from everyone else.”

Max nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

George tapped his fingers against the table, his sharp blue eyes locking onto Max’s. “Look, I’m not going to pretend I’m okay with everything that’s happened. I’m not. But I need to understand… What are you doing, Max? What are your intentions with my sister?”

Max’s jaw tightened. He’d expected this question, but that didn’t make it any easier to answer. Still, he owed George the truth. “I love her,” he said firmly, meeting George’s gaze. “I have for a long time. She’s… she’s everything to me. And now, with the baby, it’s not just about love—it’s about building a life together, a family. I want to give her everything she deserves.”

George’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression still unreadable. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you come to me? Why keep it a secret for over a year? You knew how I’d feel about it, didn’t you?”

Max exhaled, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “I did. I knew you wouldn’t approve, and I didn’t want to put her in a position where she’d have to choose between us. I didn’t handle it right—hiding it wasn’t fair to you. For that, I’m sorry.”

George studied him for a long moment, his fingers still tapping against the table. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Do you intend to marry her?”

Max didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I’ve already started looking at rings.”

That admission seemed to catch George off guard, his eyebrows raising slightly. He looked away for a moment, his gaze fixed on the untouched coffee in front of him. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “I won’t lie, Max. This is going to take me some time to process. I can’t say I’m thrilled about it, but… for her—and for the baby—I’m willing to put our differences aside. We can be cordial. But don’t mistake that for approval. You’ve got a long way to go before you earn that.”

Max nodded, his expression serious. “I understand. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m worthy of her.”

George leaned forward again, his voice hardening. “One more thing. If you ever hurt her—if you ever make her regret this—I won’t hesitate to make you pay. I don’t care if you’re a four-time world champion or the King of the Netherlands. I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Max’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “If I ever do anything to hurt her, I’ll come to you myself and let you deal with me.”

That seemed to satisfy George, who leaned back again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Good. Then we’re on the same page.”

There was a moment of silence before George let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “God, I can’t believe I’m going to be an uncle.”

Max chuckled softly. “You’ll be a great uncle. The kid’s already lucky to have you.”

George shook his head, laughing lightly. “Don’t butter me up, Verstappen. It’s not going to make me go easy on you.”

Max smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

George’s expression turned serious again. “I’m giving you a chance here, Max. Don’t waste it.”

“I won’t,” Max said, his voice steady. “I promise.”

“Also,” Max began, his tone more subdued, “I want to apologize for some of the things I’ve said about you in the media.”

George’s eyes snapped up to meet his, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise.

“I shouldn’t have insulted your driving the way I did,” Max continued. “I was frustrated, angry… you know how it gets out there sometimes. But that doesn’t make it okay. You’re a talented driver, and I should’ve respected that, even if we were at odds.”

George nodded slowly, his expression softening just a fraction. “I appreciate that,” he said quietly. “And… I owe you an apology too.”

Max tilted his head, waiting.

“I shouldn’t have called you dangerous,” George admitted, his voice a little heavier with guilt. “That was crossing a line, and it wasn’t fair. I let my emotions get the better of me after… well, after what happened in the steward’s room. I shouldn’t have let it get so personal.”

Max leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest as he processed George’s words. After a beat, he gave a small, understanding nod. “We were both running high on adrenaline and emotions. It happens. But if you’re willing to move past it, so am I.”

George offered a faint smile, one that looked genuine despite the lingering awkwardness. “Yeah, I think it’s about time we put it behind us. For Y/n’s sake, if nothing else.”

“For Y/n,” Max echoed with a small smile of his own.

They both extended their hands almost at the same time. Their handshake was firm, a silent agreement that they were both ready to turn the page.

As they stood to leave, George clapped Max on the back, his expression softening. “For what it’s worth, Max… I hope you prove me wrong.”

“I will,” Max replied confidently. “For her.”

y/n_russell posted:

y/n_russell: Plot twist of the century: Baby Verstappen-Russell loading… 🍼❤️

Comments:

georgerussell63: I’m so excited to be an uncle!! 🥹❤️

y/n_russell: I just know you're going to be the best uncle ever Georgie ❤️ user: Hold up. George Russell is actually HAPPY about this?! What parallel universe are we in?! user: George in the comments acting all sweet now… Sir, we SAW you death-staring Max at the anthem. Don’t think we forgot 💀

user: SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP. THE DRAMA. THE PLOT. THE ABSOLUTE CHAOS.

user: Y’all laughed at me when I said this was real. NOW WHO’S LAUGHING?!

user: I would like to personally APOLOGIZE to you. I thought you were joking about this, but clearly, you knew what you were doing. user: I need to apologize too for saying this wasn’t real. I genuinely thought you were being delusional. user: And THIS is why we don’t call people delusional, y’all!! Everyone owes her an apology immediately.

user: This baby just united two bloodlines like it’s Game of Thrones or something.

lewishamilton: Congratulations, Y/n and Max! Wishing you all the best on this exciting journey 🙌

y/n_russell: Thank you Lew 🥹

user: MAX VERSTAPPEN AND GEORGE RUSSELL AS FAMILY?!

user: The Verstappen-Russell feud will NEVER die. Even the baby can’t fix this 💀

user: I cannot BELIEVE the Verstappen-Russell baby is real. We live in the wildest timeline.

user: This baby has been conceived in a PR warzone. Their future memoir is gonna slap.

user: George, make Max get on one knee IMMEDIATELY. We are NOT doing this out of order!!

user: The way George probably has an Excel sheet for his new uncle duties… God bless this baby.

landonorris: I CALL GODFATHER. EVERYONE ELSE CAN BACK OFF.

charles_leclerc: Sorry, Lando, but I already submitted my application. Try again. oscarpiastri: Pretty sure I saved Max’s life this week. I should automatically win godfather. user: CHARLES AND LANDO FIGHTING OVER GODFATHER RIGHTS HAS ME ON THE FLOOR.

user: Y/n is so gorgeous, it’s unfair. Like, she’s PREGNANT, and she looks like THAT?!

user: I genuinely thought the Verstappen-Russell feud couldn’t get crazier, but then THIS happened.

user: Imagine being this baby and knowing your dad and uncle almost threw hands in the paddock over you. Icon.

carmenmmundt: So, so happy for you both!!! Baby Verstappen-Russell is already so loved. Can’t wait to spoil them.

y/n_russell: Carmen 😭❤️ Thank you! You and the girls have been the absolute best.

maxverstappen1: My love, you are my everything ❤️ I can’t wait to do this with you.

y/n_russell: I love you so much, Maxie 🥹❤️ georgerussell63: Okay, enough. Keep it PG. user: GEORGE SHUTTING IT DOWN IMMEDIATELY LMAO. user: George really said, “Not on my watch.”

user: The way Y/n just casually dropped this and logged off like the internet wasn’t gonna explode. Queen behavior.

user: welcome to the world baby Verstappen-Russell ❤️

Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @96mcobo @grussellsprout @tremendousstarlighttragedy @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz

@henna006 @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @formulaal @sleutherclaw

@anilovessadbooks @mangotaitai @vtryy @finn-dot-com @sarahsobsession

@widow-cevans @emilly165533 @tremendousstarlighttragedy

@formula1fordisaster @5sospenguinqueen @ellelabelle @mastermindbaby @sturmatt @quinquinquincy @raizelchrysanderoctavius @mysteriouslydecaffeinatedfox @czennieszn @inthefairygrove @l3thal-l0lita @bravo-delta-eccho

[juyeoz]

APPLE CIDER — HAN TAESAN ‧₊˚✩彡

SYNOPSIS — Seven minutes in heaven with your enemy is more like seven minutes in hell.

PAIRING —  enemy!taesan x gn!reader ( enemies with tension )

CONTAINS —  taesan teases y/n, swearing, an almost kiss, and some suggestiveness as well as fluff.

WORDCOUNT — 772 words ( after trial and error with pftbz )

“Why are you so flustered?” Taesan questions, confused. The two of you are in a tight space, yes, but you are also with someone you swore to hate all your life.

He walks over to the door your supposed ‘friends’ locked you both behind and inspects the doorknob.

It is indeed locked, leaving both of you stuck inside until the timer is up.

You take a seat with your back resting against the wall of the closet and knees at your chest while Taesan does his own stuff — cussing at the door under his breath. 

“Shit, do they actually expect us to do something within these seven minutes?” He says with a sigh when walking back to his spot in front of you. You look down, avoiding any possible eye contact with him.

You feel your cheeks flush, hoping he can’t see the obvious change in your emotions under the dim lighting. 

“What?” Questions Taesan after noticing the way you are avoiding eye contact with him.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually flustered right now.” 

The boy chortles in disbelief as he takes a seat on the floor as well. He lowers his head to get a better look at your hidden face all while placing his hands on top of your knees.

“(Last Name), look at me.” He says and unfortunately, you follow through with his request. His gaze is overwhelming and only makes you feel smaller and even more flustered than you felt before. 

Taesan’s eyes search yours for any signs of emotions, however, there is nothing. Instead, you stare at him innocently. 

A sight he has never seen before. It is captivating, truly, and almost feels as if a switch flips off inside of him. It’s different from the look you usually gave him — a scowl with knitted brows, or even worse, a glare at anything he did. However, he would be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to such a sight at your lockers every morning. 

“If we kiss…” Taesan begins. “What are you going to do?” 

Your brows raise at his sudden question. The sudden question that he himself thought about, but is completely unaware of the fact it slipped out.

“I mean, that’s what they want, no?” He says, quick to make up an excuse. An excuse to shield away his true thoughts. 

An awkward silence falls over you both as you stare into each other’s eyes. Luckily because of the dim lighting, he isn’t able to clearly see your flustered expression and you aren’t able to see the way he nips at his bottom lip. 

Despite that, the cramped space isn’t any help to the both of you. You’re 100% sure he can hear your beating heart and he is 100% sure you can hear his. 

If you kiss Taesan, what would that mean for the two of you? You hate him and he hates you, however, who knew such a moment could make both of you rethink how you truly feel about one another.

Your gaze moves between his eyes and his lips and he watches with a glint from the terrible lightbulb evident in your eyes. Due to this, he bites back a smile before leaning and slightly tilting his head in the process. 

You, on the other hand, brace yourself for what is to come — but spoiler alert; it never came. Instead, a sudden weight is felt on your right shoulder. Taesan sighs and nuzzles his head further into the crevice between your neck and shoulder. 

Taesan whispers something, but it isn’t audible on your end, leaving you confused. Your head turns to look at him who continues to hide his own face in the same spot from before. 

There are many possible things Taesan could have said, starting with a simple yet irritating ‘I’m kidding’. The amount of embarrassment and hatred you’d feel after hearing those words is almost unbearable, but then again, it is expected from a boy that ‘hates’ you as much as you ‘hate’ him. 

“What did you say?” You ask, hoping it isn’t what you thought it to be. If it is, you wouldn’t waste any time getting up and asking to be let out immediately. And if that doesn’t work, you wouldn’t mind sitting alone in a corner on the opposite side of Taesan for the remaining minutes.

Seven minutes in heaven, more like seven minutes in hell. 

“(Last Name),” Taesan says, repeating himself as he raises his head to look at you. Once again, his eyes search yours as you fight back the urge to avoid his intense eye contact. 

“I like you.” 

Oh.

© JUYEOZ

BOYNEXTDOOR PERM TAGLIST — @ancnymcnzjy @miumura @ilovedallywinston @i03jae @borednia @s0shroe @leehanwish @sol3chu @en-dream @ribbeoms @itsactuallylina @macapunoz

[milla-frenchy]

Close-up

8k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: Joel receives a script that takes him back to the memories of your love story. He realizes that out of protective instinct after the break up, he has not been honest neither with his own feelings nor with you Warnings: 18+ mdni. ex lovers reunited, angst, mostly Joel pov, Joel can act cold out of defence mechanism, he has trouble accepting his own feelings, pining, slow burn, pet names (sweetheart, baby), semi public sex, just the tip, soft!joel, oral (f), piv, creampie. Pic for mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions. 

a/n:  this is written for @jolapeno 's dear-uary challenge (prompt here) thank you for this challenge Jo, and it was such a cool prompt 😍😍😍 Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for reading this one soooo many times 🥹😘💕 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

I sent you a script, tell me what you think tell me more just read it, trust me

The informal messages between Joel and his agent, Will, were usual. They had known each other for a long time, they were friends, and Will had always found him perfect roles. 

So as always, Joel trusted him- even though the first page of the script, delivered to him by a courier, was not completely filled, making him wonder why. 

In the evening he put his cup on the coffee table, and lay down on the sofa, a soft light lamp behind his head. With his back leaning against the cushions, shirt, jeans, bare feet. Always the same ritual, always the same setup, when he was about to read a new script.

He started reading it, taking a sip of coffee from time to time, until his heart leapt in his chest as he got to a particular scene. 

He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank. 

It could only be you. 

That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.

that’s fucked up, Will

*Will calling*

“Yeah,” he grumbled as he picked up, without even trying to hide his feelings, then he got up to pace the room.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, Joel. But she’s a great writer and actress, you know it. We’ve been looking for a good drama movie for a long time. This one’s perfect.”

“It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”

“Joel, listen to me and think about it. No one would know. And it can be therapeutic.”

“Thera… jesus, you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Joel sighed as he hung up and threw his phone on the couch. 

Why the fuck would Will do something so stupid and inconsiderate, giving him a script from you? 

At the beginning of his career, his agent sent him one project for a movie in which you were expected to play too. Joel confessed that you two had been together, and added “you don’t bring her up. Ever,” to end the conversation. So Will never did. 

Until today.

He sat back down on the sofa, resting his forehead on his fist, resisting the urge to throw the cup of coffee across the room. He was surprised by his own reaction, his nervousness. His anger. Barely able to control his emotions, he felt so weak, like his heart was about to tear in two again, swallowing him whole. He was affected, years later, as if it happened yesterday.

So, sure, a long time ago he asked Will not to talk about you anymore. But they might have been  friends, his agent might have known about you, but he didn’t know the details. Didn’t know how profoundly the break up had hurt Joel, how much you had gotten under his skin, back then.

And in Will's defense, it wasn't like you never saw each other again, at parties or ceremonies, under Will’s gaze who thought that it wasn't that bad, after all. It was years after your separation, now having the job that both of you dreamed about, talked about, sweaty young adults in a messy bed where he had just made you come.

Will wasn't aware that it was actually that bad. 

Because he didn’t know the way Joel looked at you, when you were together. He didn't know how sweet and caring Joel was with you. He didn’t know how much he loved wrapping his arms around you, and having you curl up against him. 

He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more.

He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again.

Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.”

The first time you saw each other again, was in a place full of actors, agents, writers and directors.

You couldn't believe he was here, a few steps away from you. Of course, you knew you'd cross paths one day, but suddenly he was closer to you than he had been in years and you felt your heart racing. He was even more handsome than he was back then, if it was even possible. You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him. 

But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal. 

So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around. 

It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up. 

If you had looked up right away, you would have seen guilt sweep through his eyes. But when you finally raised your head, seconds later, he was on the other side of the room. The only thing you could see was his back, which he undoubtedly presented to you deliberately, as if his glare hadn’t been enough to make a point.

All evening, you struggled to keep conversations going, to concentrate, to think of anything other than his dark stare, furrowed brows, and the way he shook his head at you without any hesitation. For years, you had been wondering what he had thought of you, after those years. You just got the most brutal answer to that question. 

The second time, a journalist had done some research and discovered that you attended the same university, graduated the same year. He took the opportunity to bring the subject as Joel was walking by. He probably hadn't seen you amongst all those people, because you were sure he would have gone the other way, otherwise. You didn’t have much choice than to kiss, feigning a friendly closeness that had never existed between you. You had been lovers, then strangers. No in-between. 

His scent, so familiar, invaded your nostrils. He always wore the same perfume, the one you had given him for a birthday. It surprised you but you didn't have much time to think about it, as he ended the hug quickly.

Joel's eyes were shifty when you looked at him, a fake smile plastered on his lips. Which could probably seem real for people who didn't know him, but not for you. Not even years later. You answered the journalist's questions as best as you could, until Joel leaned towards to give you a hug that was as neutral as his eyes on you, cutting off the questions. Then he walked away, leaving you facing the journalist who was delighted with the exclusive material and oblivious to the unspoken scene that had happened in front of him.

Joel thought back to those two evenings, after he’d hung up on Will and before he’d put the script away in a drawer. He needed to regain control of his emotions, and to do that he couldn't continue reading your words, at least for now.

He went to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, and despite him trying, his mind wandered to lazy mornings where he would get up to make two coffees and then come back to the bedroom. He’d put them on the nightstand, before cuddling up to your warm body under the sheets, hearing you moan gently. Sometimes you would fall asleep in one of his shirts, and he loved smelling his scent on you, as if you were marked by him, somehow. It always made him feral, possessive. He didn’t know he had that side in him, until you.

You'd always grab his hand to kiss the tip of his fingers, before sliding them along your folds, feeling his cock harden against your ass and your pussy starting to drool. He would make you come with his digits, his lips against your ear, caged in his arms, then he'd slide his cock between your thighs and your soaked folds, just in time for your last spasms to squeeze his tip. Sometimes he would keep fucking you like that, lying behind you, and sometimes he would roll you on your back, taking his place between your thighs. Until he’d come, grunting, growling, his hair disheveled, and you often fall back asleep, his cock softening inside you, the cups of coffee cold on the nightstand.

He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.

The next morning he woke up groggy. He put on a t-shirt and sweatpants, poured himself a cup of coffee, and put aside his good resolutions. He didn’t need the script to think about you, anyway. Time never healed his wounds, he never forgot you or the pain he had felt when you’d left. His thoughts were always hurtful, possessive and raw.

Even years after the break up he couldn’t help but think about you when his wrist fucked his shaft. Even sometimes when he was in a relationship. He hated himself for that but couldn’t help it. He missed your cunt, your hands, everything. But he couldn’t accept the idea that he was simply missing you. 

He always thought that your bodies were made for each other, and you always breathed the same words. He knew you meant it, his cock buried in you, his eyes fixed on yours rolling to the back of your head and his ears filled with your moans, barely able to tell his name.  

Until it was over. 

He knew it could happen, you always told him that you'd have to leave for California one day in hope to live your dream, that you couldn’t do it in Texas. But he brushed it off, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to think about it. He hid it in a corner of his mind, until he had no other choice but to face reality. Until it hit him. That day, he realized that he wouldn’t get to wrap his arms around you for the rest of his life.

He lay down on the couch and started to read. And the more he read the script, the more he realized that you wrote only the moments that had really happened. 

The story, background, was slightly different, probably so that no one could ever make a connection to the two of you. But the moments were real, and it made him dizzy.

You wrote that dance in your small apartment, first for the both of you, that you rented after graduation. You worked as a waitress and Joel was a barista, and you two went to as many castings in Austin as you could, dreaming every day about being actors.

That night you put on some music and danced. He kissed your hand and looked at you. He felt warm. He loved you so much that his heart was aching. He made you spin and you laughed, and it was like a spring breeze in the apartment, filling his lungs with fresh air. When you stopped twirling you brushed his hair and then kissed him. 

The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.

Over the next two days, he took the script out of the drawer regularly. Slowly touching the paper that already bore the marks of repeated handling, him  lying on his couch, taking his time before opening it. 

He read it all, and the sweetness, the sensitivity with which you described your moments moved him profoundly. The person he had loved, cherished, cradled in his arms, wrote that. 

All the intimacy, the love and care you both felt for each other were there. For several years he made everything to forget the good moments, to focus only on the ending to feed his bitterness, but the fact was that there had been so many beautiful moments. And he could read them, feel them again. Couldn’t deny them anymore.

Your words were so familiar, so true to your love story, that his anger slowly gave some place to something else: nostalgia. Finally allowing himself to miss you and what you two had. He was still wondering why you had written the script and sent it to him, but now he was ready to learn the answer. And he wanted to look you in the eye when he’d ask you this question. But he wasn't sure how he’d behave, when you met. Didn't know if bitterness or nostalgia would fill his heart.

So after two days of silence, Joel picked up his phone and sent Will a message.

Ok, set up a meeting

Because of your busy schedules you could meet only in two weeks. The delay was driving him crazy. 

He made a copy of the script, his copy, which he filled with annotations, dates. Underlining moments or words erased from his mind, out of grief, anger or self-protection.

He got hard several times, while reading some scenes. And sometimes anger would come back to creep into his thoughts, whispering to him that you never should have sent it to him, when your separation had been so painful for him. 

And Will was not the only one Joel said “you don’t…. ever.”

To you, it’d been “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.”

That morning, as he got used to doing several times a day, he grabbed his copy of the script. He had handled it so much that the sheets were already damaged, some pages peppered with annotations. 

As he was reading, he remembered how you had loved to run your fingers over his jeans when you were watching a movie on your little couch. Playing with him, your hand going higher and higher, just to hear his breathing slow down, just to hear him murmur a needy and low “sweetheart, what are you doing?”, making you smile widely. Knowing that he would manhandle you two seconds later to be under him, pulling your panties to the side and pushing his thick length into you. He remembered the feeling of your breasts against his chest, how you whimpered in his neck while he was fucking you hard and deep. 

He was nervous the morning of the meeting. He took a shower, hoping to get rid of the fatigue and headache from the lack of sleep the night before. He put on a shirt and jeans and grabbed his car keys, put on some music when he started to drive, trying to change his mind, but it didn’t work, he was still anxious. He parked near the building. Once inside he found the meeting room and knocked on the door. He heard you say “come in” and took a deep breath before twisting the handle.

You were alone, sitting in a chair, and he quickly pushed aside the thought of how pretty you were. Joel immediately noticed your hands, pressed together nervously, before you stood up to greet him. He stopped when you walked towards him and your smile faded like that time.

“Wait,” he said, his hand raised in front of him, as he was trying to control his emotions. “I just… Why did you send it to me?” he added without any preamble, his tone harsher than he intended. 

“Oh… ok. Straight to the point, huh?” you said, sitting back down, and removing an imaginary crease on your sleeve, eyes lowered to the desk.

“I never…” you started to say, before stopping and taking a breath. “I think I needed to write our story down.” 

Joel’s sigh stopped you. You tried to keep a low and calm tone, not to show your anxiety. You knew that facing him wouldn't be easy. He had given you a glimpse of his coldness after the situation with that journalist.

“Joel, please, listen to me.” 

You looked at him, and yet you had no idea how his name, escaping your lips, tore his heart apart. He never thought he’d hear it again, and the familiar intonation made him shiver.

“I honestly think it would make a great movie,” you said. “And you must think so too, since you’re here.”

“I don’t know why I’m here, honestly. Except that I want to know why.”

“Would you have preferred to discover it once the movie was out, your role played by someone else?”

His gaze on you, dark and possessive, made you freeze.

“No, I really wouldn’t have appreciated our story, my life, played by someone else, Jesus,” he growled.

He put his hands on his hips, a stance you’d seen him do dozens of times before, searching for words, and then he sat in a chair, pinching the place just above his nose with two fingers. Trying to stop the headache that was threatening to come again. It had started off badly, and he knew it was his fault. He was too stubborn, too cold.

“Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally.

“Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.

“You?” 

A part of him, that he thought was gone the day you had left, woke up with a groan. He couldn't imagine the movie being made, you playing... well, you, and him being played by another man. It was unthinkable and made his jealousy and possessiveness stir painfully in his chest.

Unlike you, he hadn't watched your movies. He tried though, when he saw your face on a movie poster for the first time. He went to the cinema, but he walked out of the theater the moment that actor leaned toward you to kiss you. He couldn't stand to see someone kiss you, when he couldn't do it anymore.

“I’m the best person to play this character, aren’t I?” you said softly, interrupting his thoughts. “Just like you’re the best one to play the male lead. Look, I know you’ve been rumored for a role like this for years. I know you’re not opposed to it. So why not?”

“Because it’s not about playing a role here,” he sighed. “It’s playing in front of a camera, things we said, did, years ago. Intimate things that belong to us.”

“I changed some things, no one has to know it’s autobiographical,” you started to say, before he quickly cut you off. 

“I know it is. And so do you.” He walked over to the window to stare at the buildings in front of him. “When you leave someone, you don’t do that. It’s unhealthy,” he said, almost softly. Resigned. He turned to you before adding, “Why stir up something that died years ago?”

He didn't expect to face the sadness that clouded your face, and once again guilt seized him. You were sad, upset, and despite the bitterness he’d been feeling for years, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore,” you answered, standing up and walking towards him. You stopped a few steps away to respect his boundaries, before you'd see his body stiff. “I left because I had to follow my dream, and it wasn’t working in Texas. And you wanted to stay in Austin, to take care of Tommy. We ended it because a long-distance relationship would have been too painful, because I didn’t want us to be unhappy, barely seeing each other, not being able to feel each other often enough. So I left. And I told you all that. You knew it, you knew why.”

You took a breath, after formulating what was oppressing your heart, waiting for him to answer.

“Playing with feelings is dangerous,” he said in a low voice.

“This isn’t a game, Joel. I'm not playing. I’m sure it would make a great movie. And maybe we need to express all that, even years later.”

“Do you remember what I told you that day? The last day?”

“Of course, I do. You told me not to call you. You told me that if we had to meet again… then it would happen. Well, it's happening, Joel.”

He looked at you, confused, and headed towards the door, brushing past you lightly as he passed. 

Just before leaving, without looking at you, he said in a low voice, “my agent will give you my answer in a few days.” 

Once the door closed behind Joel, you remembered the day you left. 

In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.

At that moment you were wondering if you had made a mistake. You kept wondering for years. To be honest, you still weren’t sure you made the right choice that day. You followed your dream and succeeded, but it cost you the love of your life.

You didn't know what to think about the meeting. It could have been worse, he could have left after two minutes of being there, you knew it. You could have said more, too, but you didn't want Joel to withdraw more into himself. And for sure, you couldn't have told him that you always thought of him when you were in someone’s else’s arms. That you tried not to let jealousy invade you when you thought of his personal life, knowing that you had no right to be. You gave up on that when you had left.

You knew what he thought, how he reacted. Now he needed time to process everything, and you just had to wait for his agent to contact you. You couldn't do more.

Joel got to his car in a blur. He realized where he was only sitting behind the wheel, too many emotions swirling in his head. Years without seeing you and it had gone by at the speed of light. He blamed himself for being cold, blamed himself for not being cold enough, and he was even more lost than before he saw you. He started to drive, the feeling of having mishandled things weighing more and more on his shoulders.

He took another shower when he got home, as if it could wash off his remorse and regrets, the words exchanged playing over and over in his mind.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore.”

“I had to follow my dream. You wanted to stay in Austin. To take care of Tommy.”

“You knew it, you knew why.”

Did he really start to believe that the events had happened differently, after you left? Had he really done it, to the point of omitting certain things, because he needed someone to blame, to keep moving forward? 

Had he really been that guy? Blaming you when there was no one to blame, just life and the choices that go with it, that we all have to do?

Had he really denied for years that you had left with a broken heart, too? That he had told you to never call him, after those wonderful years together? He felt like he was waking up with a monstrous hangover, and guilt gripped him. Truth is he let you down, and reality was hitting him hard.

Because you were right, you didn’t leave just like that. He didn’t want to acknowledge it for years, kept sweeping it under the rug, but deep down he didn’t forget it. 

And you were right, he hadn’t been able to prioritize your relationship. Couldn’t prioritize himself either. He had always been protective of his brother, but it reached another level when he came back to Texas after being dismissed. Tommy wasn't the same, and Joel knew that he would have constantly wondered if his brother was okay if he had left for California with you. Worried that he could be in jail after a fight, with no one to bail him out. Or that he could be drunk in an alley, alone, spending the night there. Or worse.

“I can’t leave Tommy here alone, with all his drinking and partying,” he told you, expression determined.

“But you need to think about your future, our future too, Joel,” you replied desperately.

Joel had probably hoped that you wouldn’t have left, that you’d have chosen him, until the end. And you probably hoped the same thing, too. 

Right person, wrong time. Fucking sad, but so banal.

So to forget that he was as responsible for the breakup as much as you were, he let his pain turn into anger, and he never let nostalgia set in, or his feelings show up. 

And everything blew up when you sent him that script and he started reading it. It was impossible to continue to deny the obvious, to keep thinking that his feelings were stronger than yours and that’s why you had left. It was impossible to forget that he had told you, “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.” That he was the one who had cut everything off, once and for all. To protect himself, of course. But still.

So once you were gone, he did what he had to do, he took care of Tommy. Except that he started going to bars with him, at night. Drinking less than him, but still way too much. He took sleeping pills when he was obsessed with your absence, tired of squeezing your pillow way too tight in his fist, his jaw clenched with anger. He moved to a new neighborhood because he couldn't stand living in that apartment anymore where everything reminded him of you. 

When they were children and then teenagers, Joel and Tommy’s father taught them to work with their hands, and it helped them to find jobs on construction sites. And that he finally pulled himself together and helped Tommy the way he had to. It took him months, but he did it, and his parents would be proud of him, of them, if they saw their sons.

He worked hard, kept doing castings when his work allowed it, and eventually it paid off, even if it took time.

He thought about it all, and realized he needed to see you again before deciding on the movie. Needed to behave normally, to let go of his mask. So he asked his agent your number, then texted you:

it’s Joel. Are you still in LA?  I have some questions about the script can we meet again?  I am. When do you wanna meet? tomorrow night, my place? I’ll cook Sure!

He took a deep breath as he sent you his address. He let his emotions take over on purpose, to dispel the bitter taste in his mouth since you saw each other. Now he had to trust them.

The next day he started to cook during the afternoon, the dish that he hoped was still one of your favorite. He knowingly chose to invite you over to his place, to keep his mind occupied at least while he was busy in the kitchen. 

Once the dish was in the oven, he did a running session on his treadmill and showered. 

Anything to keep his mind busy.

You arrived right on time, a bottle of wine in hand.

“You still like the white?” you asked.

He did. Some things never changed.

As you approached the kitchen it smelled so good that you stopped there.

“Still one of your favorite meals?” he asked.

It was. 

You tried not to show that you were moved. Acts of service had always been his way of showing that he cared, and you weren’t expecting that when you showed up.

You sat down on a high stool in the kitchen and he opened the bottle of wine. You had a few sips, silently. Neither of you really knew what to say, at first. Then everything set into place, naturally, instinctively. A little shyly at first, bringing up things from your respective pasts, or present. You asked him how Tommy was doing, and he told you he was fine, that he was engaged to a woman named Maria and that they were going to be parents soon. You were happy for Tommy, sincerely. You had always liked him.

Joel was trying to act normally, to not pay too much attention to the ease with which you were chatting. How easily he opened up to you, telling you about his years in Austin, then his first ones in LA. His first roles, his doubts.

He was glancing at your hands when you weren’t looking at him. At your hair. 

He loved to see your eyes shine when you were talking about something that was important to you.

But above all, he loved to see them sparkle the first time he made you smile, that evening. It hit him, how much he missed it. Making you smile. 

His emotions were so familiar that his heart was beating a little too fast, like a horse freed from its reins.

And suddenly he wondered how he had been able to spend so many years without you by his side, when you had always been his sunshine, liberating his grumpy, reserved nature. 

A part of his brain told him that he was smiling a little too much, but he felt more alive during those moments with you than he hadn’t been in so long. 

Whether in a relationship or not.

And then he felt the atmosphere change, felt that you got nervous, an impression confirmed when you began to scratch your thumb. A habit that dated back years ago, and he'd always take you in his arms, kiss your thumb and tell you that he was there and that everything would be okay. Today, for the first time he couldn’t do all that.

“Are you ok?” he nevertheless allowed himself to ask.

“Yeah, it’s just… listen, I know you wanted to ask me about the script, but ehm... there’s something you need to know.” You took a deep breath before adding “there won’t be any movie if you don’t want to do it. If you’re not comfortable with it. I’m not saying this to put pressure on you, it's just… I just want you to know that your choice is completely free. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it, for whatever bad reason.”

“I appreciate that you’re telling me this, thank you,” he said, in a tone you couldn’t quite define, half defeated, half tender. “Listen, I wanted to apologize.”

“For what, Joel?” you asked questioningly.

“Yesterday. I didn’t really know how to handle all of it. Honestly, I’ve been overwhelmed by a lot of emotions since I read the script. Including anger.” He didn't expect to tell you that, but the need was too much to bear. He needed to make things right.

“I know. I expected it to be complicated, after our two previous meetings,” you said, without animosity or bitterness. Just being factual.

He raised his eyebrows, as if to apologize, before continuing. “I wanted to apologize for that too. My attitude.”

“That’s your way of handling things, it always has been, I should have known. But I appreciate it too, thanks Joel.”

He nodded, then added “do you think we’ll be able to do it?”

“To do what?”

“Work together. To be coworkers on a movie?”

He saw your eyebrows furrow slightly, as you took the time to think before answering.

“Well… the evening’s going pretty well, right? You haven't shook your head at me yet, to show me the door.”

“Ouch!” he replied exaggeratedly.

“Too soon?” you asked, lips curled into a smile.

“A little,” he laughed.

He enjoyed it, that little moment. You’d had so many of them before. 

“Aren’t you afraid of what might happen?” he wanted to ask. 

“Aren’t you afraid of reliving things, that I’ll fall madly in love with you again and that the scenes we’ll shoot, my acting, will just express the reality of my feelings?” 

But he couldn’t ask you that.

He wanted to ask you if you had sent him the script because you still had feelings for him, but he couldn’t say that either.

“It’ll be a low budget movie. I mean, if we do it,” you said. There’ll be some outdoor scenes but not that many. Not many other actors either. It won’t be a long shoot.”

He nodded and said, “can I give you my answer in a couple of days?”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Thanks for the meal, it was delicious,” you said as you stood up. “You can text me if you have any questions.”

He thanked you and you complimented him on his house as you put your coat back on. His taste hadn’t changed. The rooms were simply decorated. As you walked toward the front door you glanced inside one of the rooms, and saw a table with a wooden sculpture on it.

“Oh my god, Joel? You still do the carving?”

“Oh… well… yeah. I never stopped.”

“Can I?” you asked.

“Sure,” he opened the door and you slipped through the gap, brushing past him lightly as you passed and you had goosebumps at the familiar scent. Still the perfume you had gifted him once. Reassuring. After all these years, instantly, it was there. Enveloping you. 

You approached the table and leaned over a piece he was working on, admiring the figurine that was being carved. A rodeo cowboy on a bucking horse.

“Wow, Joel… you were already very good at this back then, but now it’s incredible. The level of detail is mind-blowing.”

You looked at the shelves, covered with other sculptures. You approached them: bears, deer, wolves, rabbits.

“This is really amazing, you’re so talented. And… Do you still play guitar?”

“Sure,” he answered, nodding at a guitar case. “I usually play in the dining room. My guitars are over there. This one needed a little TLC. I just got it back. It’s… well it’s the one you gave me.”

You looked at him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“You kept it?” you asked, trying to hold back your emotions.

“ ‘ course I did.”

You nodded, your throat tight.

“I should go, it’s getting late,” you said. “Tell me about the movie, ok?” You looked at him hesitantly, but when he leaned towards you and wrapped his arms around your torso, your eyes closed at the feeling, so familiar, before you pulled away, told him good night and left.

Driving your car, you replayed the images of the evening in your mind. Of course, you had felt his gaze on you several times during the evening. And sometimes you could see Joel again. Your Joel.

Did he think about you as much as you thought about him? Did he suspect that you had sent him this script in the hope of getting back in touch with him? Did he know how much you missed him, all those years?

You had wondered so many times if he had been thinking about you. You thought about the hug, as comforting as before. You missed him so much.

Two days later, he texted you

“I’m in”

He kept looking at his phone after sending the message. The read indicator appeared quickly, then the writing bubble.

“Great, I'm so glad! I’m sure it’s gonna be amazing!!”

He hoped it would be. Hoped it wasn’t a mistake. 

He had to leave LA for several weeks for a shooting, and the organization of the film was put in place.

You sent each other a few messages in the next few days. Then the messages became more and more regular, while remaining purely friendly.

Several months later, the day before the shooting started, he knocked on your trailer to say hello.

You had rehearsed some scenes with the crew, and everything was ready.

The less emotional scenes were shot in the first few days. He didn’t ask for it, but he was glad. Every night he came back to his trailer, played the guitar, and thought about you. 

Seeing you every day was a very strange thing that he had trouble to define. He was happy to see you every day, to see the person you had become. And sad that you were no longer his. Filming these moments with you was like constantly reopening a wound that had never really healed.

That night, he took out the script, and reread the scene planned the next day.

EXT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He parks downstairs at their apartment, it’s dark. He knows she’s back from a week at her parents’. He’s eager to get home and see her again, he’s missed her. He quickly climbs the outside stairs and unlocks the door. INT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He puts his keys on the hall cabinet, takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. We follow him as he walks in the apartment, until he sees her in the doorway of the dining room. He smiles, we see love in their eyes as look at other. HER Hey baby He goes to her, they kiss, he takes her in his arms. She closes her eyes. HIM I missed you, baby. He brushes her cheek with his thumb. HER I missed you too. She takes his hand and leads him to their bedroom.

He stopped reading there, before the next scene, that was the most intimate, the one that made him anxious just to think about.

“I missed you, baby,” he said the line. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, like he had done so many times before. His eyes were fixed in yours. He wondered if he was imagining what he was reading in them.

“I missed you too.”

You took his hand and you headed out of the frame.

“Cut, it was perfect, guys! Go get ready for the next scene.”

He picked up his water bottle and took a sip. He felt dizzy.

You were both wearing underwear and bathrobes. Waiting to shoot the scene.

“Ok guys, you’re ready? Great, let’s go.”

The scene was a close-up of both of your faces during a sex scene, at night. You lay down on the bed first, after taking off your robe. He took off his too and lay down between your thighs.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s ok,” you smiled.

“Action!”

You started to kiss, tongues quickly brushing against each other. His hands cupped your cheeks as he rolled his hips towards you slowly, careful that your crotches wouldn’t touch. 

It was overwhelming to feel you against him, your breasts against his chest, with only your bra between the two of you. It was a whirling moment, to kiss you in such an intimate scene, playing something that you had lived for real before. He groaned and slid his hand to the back of your neck to hold you as close as possible against him.

He felt you shift slightly, turning your hips to face his. He wanted to ask you what you were doing but he couldn’t. He was half hard from the moment he laid against you but now his cock was hard as steel. You pushed your pelvis forward and the tip of his cock nestled at your entrance, pointing against his boxers.

He could feel your wet panties through the fabrics.

“Don’t stop, baby,” you recited your line, and he growled.

He couldn’t believe you would act like that while shooting a scene, couldn't believe you were using him.

He pulled away to look at you and you murmured an unscripted “please.” Eyebrows furrowed, he nodded slightly. His fat head found its way, and his tip pushed your panties in.

It was hot, filthy, forbidden. So unprofessional, but he couldn’t stop. He recognized your moans, and the small team around you probably thought it was perfectly faked, when it was music in his ears. The music he thought he would never hear again. 

Your hands tightened on his biceps as you came. So quickly. He felt your walls squeezing his tip and he almost forgot to move, forgot the script, forgot you were shooting a scene. He pulled out, afraid he would come too, and faked his orgasm, neck tense and veins bulging, your hands caressing his hair at the back of his neck.

You said the next line “I love you, baby. I missed you so much.”

“I love you too,” was his.

“Cut!! That was amazing, great job!!”

There was a pounding on your trailer door as you got out of the shower. You quickly threw on a bathrobe and went to open it.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled.

“Keep your voice low Joel, damn… Come in.”

You closed the door behind him, searching for the right words, pressing your hands together. 

“I, huh…” you stammered.

“No! No, talk to me. Tell me. You can’t… you can’t do that and stay silent.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he chuckled.

“Having you so close to me, against me… I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. It was overwhelming.”

“Everyone could have seen, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, that’s the point, Joel! And they didn’t see, anyway.”

“Jesus christ you can't do that. You can’t just use me like that.”

“I know, Joel. I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“What?”

You sighed, and that time he didn't try to rush you. You felt him soften, giving you time to find your words.

“I miss you, Joel.”

“No, don't…  Please, don’t say that.”

“I missed you the second I left and it never stopped.”

Hearing the tone of your voice and reading your eyes, this time he had no doubt that you really meant it. And he felt all the tensions in his body relax, as if he were freed from everything that had been oppressing him for years. You approached him slowly, eyes raised to his, and you slid your hand into his, and his large palm gently closed over it. You caressed his cheek with the other, and for a moment he shut his eyes, pressing his face against your hand.

“I miss you,” you said again and he rested his forehead against yours. He gently rubbed his nose against yours, before kissing your lips softly. He heard your breathing hitch for a moment, then you moaned slightly as you pulled away, just to look at him, Joel, not the actor, for the first time in years. He pulled you closer to him and brushed his tongue over your lips, as if asking for permission to push inside. Greedily, you slid yours to his, licking his tongue and lips, until he crashed his mouth against yours. His hands rested on your waist while yours moved up his back, pressing your bodies together. You whined when you felt his hard cock pressed to you.

You pulled away from him again, just to look at his face, and he wanted to pinch himself, just to be sure you were not some dream that would leave him disillusioned and alone when he woke up.

You took his hand and led him to your room.

“Undress me,” you said.

He pulled on the knot of your bathrobe slowly, making the two sides of the garment part, revealing the curve of your breasts that he caressed with his fingertips.

Your chest rose quickly as your eyes were plunged into each other, until he lowered them to your pussy. His heart was beating so fast that for a moment he was afraid it would explode.

He raised his gaze to yours, silently asking if you were okay.

“Yes,” you said. As if you knew he would want to hear it, that a nod wouldn't be enough.

He slipped his hands under the fabric of the robe and slid it down your shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving you naked. So vulnerable, and yet you were the strongest woman he ever knew, following your dream by leaving for a city where you didn't know anyone. And made your dream come true.

But now you were here, in front of him. So pretty, so sure of yourself, of your desires.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a low voice.

He pulled you back, guiding you with his hands on your hips as he kissed you, until the back of your knees touched the bed.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he said. The nickname was so familiar in his mouth, so normal. You did as he asked, moving back until your head rested on the pillow as he watched you, still standing at the end of the bed. Then he took off his t-shirt, unbuttoned his jeans and got rid of them and his boxers.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Haven't felt better in a long time, actually.”

“Me too,” he added, laying on the bed, his hand caressing your inner thighs that he kissed, then he spread them with his hands.

He ran his thumb over your folds, covering it in your wetness until he reached your clit and gently rolled it under his finger. You moaned, spreading your thighs wider. 

He leaned down, his shoulders taking possession of the space between your thighs, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. He licked a long stripe from your drooling hole to your clit, then placed his hands on the inside of your thighs, pressing your knees against the sheets, and you willingly let him do it, your hands sliding into his hair. He pushed his tongue into your cunt, growling against your folds. He never thought he would taste you again and an overwhelming feeling was running through his whole body. You were leaking into his mouth, down his throat and he pressed you against him, greedy for what you were giving him as your hips rolled towards him. His nose brushed perfectly against your clit, like it always did before. You clung to his hair as your moans were getting louder and louder.

"I'm so close, Joel," you murmured, hands lost in his curls. "Please, baby, please." 

“Take what you need, use me, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god, Joel… I’m gonna… I’m coming, fuck!”

He didn't let go of you, leaving his tongue buried in your pussy and his nose against your clit, gripping  your waist with his hands, as if they were in their natural place, your flesh welcoming them.

“Joel…” you whimpered.

“Another one, please, baby. Let me give you another one, ok?”

“I’m not sure if I can… I don’t know if I can,” you panted.

“Lemme try, ok?”

“Ok,” you whispered.

His tongue left your pussy, licking your puffy folds before teasing your swollen clit. His middle finger slid along your folds before he pushed it in you gently, immediately adding a second digit. His fingers pumped into you, making your wetness flow down to the sheets. He kept you pressed against the mattress, as he had done so many times, drunk on your taste and smell. His cock ached but he resisted the urge to grind himself against the bed, afraid of not being able to hold back and come on them.

“I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,” he added, still pumping your drooling cunt with his thick fingers, then licking and sucking your clit.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you whined, just before you came on his diggits, clit pulsing against his tongue.

He crawled over to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and smashed his lips against yours, your wimpers now disappearing between them.

“I wanna suck your cock, Joel,” you breathed against his lips, but he shook his head. 

“Sweetheart… I'd love it too but I’m gonna come the second you’ll take me in your mouth,” he said. “And I really need to feel you around my cock. All the way this time, not just the tip. You’re ok with that, baby?”

“Of course, need to feel you too.”

“Damn you’re so pretty,” he said, and kissed you.

He grabbed his cock in his hand, the tip leaking, swollen and red, and nestled it at your entrance, pausing there for a moment before thrusting in. 

“Oh fuck…” you whined, making him stop.

“No, no no, don’t stop, I’m ok. Need all of you, please,” you whimpered.

Like years ago, he would give you everything you needed from him. So he didn't stop until he bottomed out. 

“Shit,” he groaned, feeling his balls tightening, ready to explode. He was struggling so hard not to come, but his breath was hitching with every thrust since he felt your pussy around him. 

You kissed, hips rolling towards each other softly and slowly. He loved to feel you around him again, and again he thought that your bodies were made for each other. He was sure of it more than ever. He slid his arms under your shoulders and you licked his neck, right at his pulsating point, then kissed the thin and delicate skin crossed by its veins.

“I won’t last, baby, I’m sorry…” he panted.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, taking him deeper.

“It doesn’t matter, fill me, Joel, please, just like before,” you begged, making him grawl, and he placed his thumb against your clit. It was enough to give you soon another climax and you pulsed around his shaft, digging your fingers into his skin as you came once again. He thrusted in a few times before burying himself, balls deep in your cunt, and shot his cum into your core, filling it to the last drop, his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart….”

“I know,” you breathed. “Just like before.” 

For a few minutes both of you were panting loudly, waiting to catch your breath.

Then you caressed his cheek and he kissed you until he pulled away and lay down facing you.

“Come here, baby,” he said, welcoming you against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, the way he always liked it so much. You stayed like that for a few minutes without talking. He just wanted to feel you against him, to hear you breathe slowly, to feel your skin against his. 

“I should have left with you,” he said suddenly.

You straightened up to look at him then said softly, “hey, no, don’t… Don’t hurt yourself by thinking that. You did what you had to do, and so did I. And we met again, like you said back then,” you added, and kissed him, then curled up in his arms again.

“We did,” he agreed, brushing your hair delicately. “So, that script?” he asked. “Was it to… like… get me back?”

“Of course it was,” you smiled against his torso, and he kissed the top of your head. 

“I’m happy you sent it to me, sweetheart.”

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[ultravi0lence14]

GET FREE

SAM WINCHESTER X DOE!READER

WARNINGS: meg!sam angst, hurt/comfort, smut (MDNI), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), grinding

SUMMARY: after the shock of meg taking over sam’s body, he yearns to show you how much he cares for you.

WC: 1.4k

the air in the room is tense, a strong mist that takes over both yours and sam’s senses. the events from earlier were still fresh in your mind, and you honestly didn’t know how to feel.

it wasn’t sam, you kept telling yourself, a mantra playing over and over in your skull. he’s a good man, he was possessed.

but his mean eyes, the way he gripped onto your hair so tightly while he thrusted the knife against your throat. it was all so visceral, a feeling you never thought you’d experience from sam. his usual kind, gentle loving self had gone completely awry. the demonic entity you knew as meg taking over his being and making him cruel.

even now, as he sat beside you on the bed in one of bobby’s guest rooms, you could feel that distance that you oh so desperately wanted to have from him. you loved him, you really did, but after what just happened, you didn’t know how long it would take before you could be around him.

though sam was a determined man when it came to his girl, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that you knew he wasn’t going to treat you like that ever again; that he would never treat you like that under his own management.

“baby,” he murmured, fingers dusting against your shoulder as he tested out if you wanted to be touched or not. “look at me, please.”

slowly, you turn your head towards his stare, looking into the sorrow filled eyes of the man you loved. he was so broken, so upset with how everything had gone. but mostly, he was angry. angry that meg made you feel scared of him. angry that because of a demon, he needed to remind his girlfriend about the love he harboured for her in his dna.

a sniffle could be heard from where you sat, a lone tear falling down your cheek. “i’m sorry sam” you choked out, feeling his hand tighten on your shoulder.

“why are you sorry?” he demands softly, bringing his hands to cradle your face. “i should be sorry. i allowed her in, allowed her to treat you like that.”

all you could muster was a small shake of your head, gripping sam’s wrists weakly. “i’m sorry because i’m making you feel like this is your fault.” your words came out blubbery, tears mixing in with your flushed cheeks. “it’s not, sam. none of this was your doing. i’m just shaken is all, i swear.”

“you’ve done no such thing.” me murmured, leaning forward and leaving a lingering kiss on your forehead. his mouth went on to travel to the slopes of your nose, leaving light, delicate kisses wherever he could reach. those kisses than moved to your cheeks, touches like feathers brushing against your smile lines. it wasn’t until he smashed his lips against yours that you felt the unbridled passion, the longing for you to feel okay after the torment you endured at his hands.

sam’s body moved so he was kneeling on the floor at your feet, hands clutching yours shaking as he peppered kiss after kiss to your knuckles and palms.

“i’m sorry,” he breathed, head lifting up with a watery puppy dog look. your hands had threaded in his hair, holding his head in place as you caressed his scalp. “please sweet girl, let me show you how sorry i am.”

no verbal response came from your lips, a shy smirk coming in it’s wake. your hands cradling sam’s face moved to his chest, lightly pushing him back until he leaned onto his palms, legs spread wide and lap oh so inviting.

tentatively, you slipped your hands to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and revealing your lace bra. sam didn’t speak, he just watched, mouth agape, as you unclipped the material, your breasts fully on display to his eyes. you then moved to your pants, slowly sliding them down your legs and throwing them somewhere in the room. the baby pink panties you wore had sam groaning, his hands grappling at your calves and begging you to join him on the floor.

the tap of your finger on sam’s shoulder indicated you wanted his shirt to go. with quick fingers, sam’s shirt was flying in the same direction as your pants, looking up at you with wide, expectant eyes.

you couldn’t bare to see him pout any longer; as pretty as he looked, so with wobbly knees, you lowered yourself from the edge of the bed, resting yourself into sam’s lap.

in an instant, sam’s hands were on you. one arm around your waist while the other found purchase nestled deeply in your hair. soft fabric of your panties rubbed against the hard material of sam’s jeans, allowing a slight groan to ripple from your lips.

“that’s it baby,” he groaned in your ear, using his arm around your waist to help you rub slightly against the bulge in his jeans. “get yourself all worked up and ready for me. need you all wet and needy for my cock.” a moan rippled through your lips at his words, and you couldn’t help but grind against him faster as your deft fingers worked quickly on the button and zipper of his pants.

with some help from sam, you both pulled his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs until his dick sprang free. the look of him barred to you had your mouth watering, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth from the sight of his angry red tip resting close to your covered folds.

the wet patch near your cunt had a soft chuckle leaving sam’s lips, his fingers moving from your hair to move your panties to the side. “already so wet for me, pretty girl.” he cooed, rubbing his dick through your slick. “so wet, so needy.”

your fingers dug deeply into sam’s shoulders as he lined himself up with your entrance, holding your waist and helping you slowly sink down onto his dick. you both let out a conjoined groan at the feeling, small whimpers leaving your lips as sam bottomed out, his girth spreading you open so deliciously.

“fuck, you’re so tight.” sam groaned in your ear, holding your hips tighter as you breathed heavily into the crook of his neck. “move whenever you’re ready, darling girl. i want you to use me, use my dick to make yourself come.”

his words elicited a groan from your parted lips, encouraging you to use the leverage you had on his shoulders to lift yourself up and slowly sink back down on his cock. the slight burn was dizzying, a deep moan rumbling from your chest as sam panted into your shoulder.

the constant push and pull movements had you seeing stars, loud whimpers leaving your lips every time yours and sam’s pelvis’ would collide. the man stayed true to his words, and allowed you to use him in any sense possible. all sam did was breath heavily and groan into your shoulder, deep rumbled of ‘i love you’s’ leaving his lips as he left soft kisses on your collarbone.

digging your fingers into his shoulder blades, angry red crescent shapes from your nails rose onto sam’s skin with each bounce you made on his dick. the air was lucid, and sam used the hand he had nestled in your hair to move your face to his, planing a sloppy kiss on your open, panting mouth.

“i love you so much,” he groaned, the feeling of your orgasm approaching eliciting you to move faster. “come for me baby. cmon, milk my cock.”

his words had you stilling, sam’s tip kissing your cervix as you came all around his dick. the feeling of your come soaking him had a loud groan leaving sam’s lips, his head slumping against your chest as he came himself.

loud pants could be heard throughout the room as you and sam came down from your highs. the man in question finding no need to pull out of your soaked walls as he laid himself down on the floor, grabbing your body so you could rest on top of him.

“i would never hurt you,” he whispered in your ear, stroking your hair as you felt the clutches of sleep cling to your senses. “i was born to make you feel like this, make you feel good and loved down to my last breath.”

TAGS: @starzify @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @bluemerakis @haunteres @figthoughts @foolinthera1n @deanangel @whisperingdaze @misatxox

NAT BABBLES: sam smut?? oh we’re so up (everyone thank my sweetie pie cass!!)

[euphoria-looney]

Thank you... for playing with me.

Pt.1

Bake No Hana (Nightcord at 25:00 ft. Kaito)

"It's finally come around, my punishment for having been born. In order to put an end to it, I stop breathing— Ah, I'm fed up with this."

I approached the girl who chose me last round, Penelope. I called her Penny though, and thought the name was cute.

It suits her.

Last round I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to do, but she pulled me into her group, and even against the male group, we won!

It didn’t help that crunch that echoed across the room each time a team lost though, Astro has been colder than ever and the old guy got separated from me before I could follow him. I think it was fate that we all ended up on the same team.

I’m trying to sound positive because, at this moment in time, I have gone too far to give up now, whether that be hope or, the sick truth, for the money.

My mind is always racing and is looking for the truth that I’m hiding from myself. 

I’ve killed people intentionally or not, just to keep going for a cash prize that I’m not even sure I’ll win.

This isn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

I’ve said that line so many times.

When I was 5 and my mother ran away, that wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

When I kept getting neglected and abused in the manor, that wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

When I got kicked out at the mere age of 18, That wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

Getting into debt and sinking deeper into the amount needed to pay back, I bet you can think of the line I said next.

And now with all the corpses I’ve been near, the money dropping into the pig, the masked soldiers that looked upon you with their weapons, was this really how I was going to be free from debt? Was this the situation I wanted to be in?

“Hey!” Penny turned to look at me.

“Want to pair up?” I tilted my head at her.

“Why should I?”

“I don’t picture you going around here and begging these jerks.” I looked around at our options.

“Wouldn’t that bother you?” I raised an eyebrow to her.

“Bothering me or not isn’t the concern, winning or losing is.” Despite that, she didn’t make any plans to move away from me.

I cheered fondly at her.

“Then play with me, I’ll make sure you’ll win.”

“What will you do?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“... What do you see in me?” 

“Well, I wanted to ask you that.”

“You were someone who looked like they would come with me.”

“I feel the same way.” I raised my hand offering a handshake.

She took my hand, so warm compared to how she acted, and I tightened the grip before releasing her hand.

I’m glad we got the teams out of the way before the timer ended.

—

Third POV

“Alright, there's a five-minute break before the games start, my good sirs. Do whatever you’d like before coming back to meet up and enjoy the show, they’ll be playing marble games.” The frontman announced before everyone dispersed.

“What was that imbecile thinking, joining a game like this? She even had the option to leave and she chose to come back?!” Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes out of agitation.

“They did…” Duke murmured.

“No, they didn’t.” Damian looked at Duke as if he were mad.

“Yes, they did, a while back? You were there and berated them for acting like their mother…” Duke rebutted.

“That must’ve felt so humiliating…”

Dick rubbed his arm.

“... she was probably terrified to face you again, especially with how you treated her…”

Damian piped down after that.

“You’re not any better than us, Duke. You also shunned them away,” Tim said, defending himself and the others.

“I’m not saying I’m better than anyone and this doesn’t excuse what I did but all of you guys made it known through the whole manor that she was just like her mother, so greedy for money that even when she had too much she wanted more, is that what we’re seeing in front of us though?! A girl who's so loaded but still wants more?!” That left Tim speechless and guilty.

“I know what it’s like to be financially unstable, obviously after losing my parents and trying to find them it wasn’t easy, and it didn’t make it any easier with not even a penny in my pocket, so these people “killing themselves for a little money” even though it’s a life or death situation, that’s no different then being “free” out there, especially not in Gotham. So when Bruce rescued me and treated me with kindness and support, I thought that all his kids got this treatment, but now you guys want to berate her and call her an idiot but she was forced into this position…”

He turned to Bruce but was only met with the man looking away.

“Maybe when she left this game, she realized her life wasn’t meant enough and came back to this dehumanizing environment, she didn’t come for us to help her because of the memories of last time, she probably was so nervous always walking on eggshells around us that the moment we rejected her she knew that this was her only option.”

Jason knew it wasn’t targeted specifically at him, but at one point, he knew he had a bond with [name], that innocent kid with those cute bug eyes and that gummy smile. They had something special. Then he died and came back with the news. At that moment, he couldn’t help but feel betrayed by [name]’s mom. With everything that had happened to him,, he had changed his character, so with no one to blame…

Well, you are your mother’s daughter.

Doesn’t the saying go ‘like mother, like daughter?’

Also, the situation didn’t help with him constantly not talking to her, you’d have understood the feeling he got when she came to the manor after being kicked out just to beg for money?

He seriously could not blame the situation on you, did he, or did he forget that he contributed to it too?

The ignoring, the sneering, the insults, how one looks from the person she trusted the most could shatter her heart.

And of course that would be the first conversation she had with you... You didn’t talk to her.

“Well, did you guys hear what she said to that other girl, seems she has no plans-”

A knock interrupted the chat.

“I’m sorry sirs, but the games are starting. May I have your bets?”

“240”

“Wow, all of you, just in case she ever loses, would you guys like to buy her body? I assume you’re family and had an interest in that girl?”

“You!-” Damian was stopped by Bruce, who also had his hands clenched in anger.

“Thank you, that would be appreciated.” Smiled Bruce.

“Of course, and I didn’t mean you lose the bet, it’s just that the odds are against some players and good for others.” The Frontman nodded before heading off.

“Don’t worry, guys. Just hang on. I’m finding the location as fast as I can,” Oracle said through the earpiece before they left for the lounge.

Their nice, comfortable lounge.

—

If I am ready to die, why not know a little bit more about the person I’m spending my last moments with?

“You know~ since the last Joker attack nothing has been this tragic…”

“What game are we playing?” No small talk then… but that’s okay.

“Dang, you’re cold as ice.”

“What game are we playing, girl?”

“You tell me. These games are probably only known to these oldies, tell you what let’s make our own game, ten marbles we could do anything with that.

“So let’s… end this game in a single round.” I looked down at my lap.

“All or nothing. A simple bet.” I looked back at her again with my stupid smile that showed my gums and tilted my head.

It was something I was used to doing a lot as a kid.

I don’t know why I’m acting like this, maybe it’s because my misery will finally end.

That took a dark turn. Let’s get back on track.

“Don’t tell me you’d… rather do what they’re doing?” 

We looked at the old guys behind Penny, throwing their marbles that hit against each other. What was the purpose of the game?

Get the other players' marbles out before they do.

“Okay. Playing what then?” 

I huffed in amusement. 

“What’s with the hurry?” 

“You’re just dying to kill me, huh?” I teased

That was a rhetorical question, we both knew it…

At least I knew it was.

“We’ve got a lot of time on our hands, and we’re playing one round. What’s the rush?”

“What are we gonna do before then?”

“Talk” It had been a while since I’d done that with somebody in this hellhole.

“About what?” 

“Things we never told anybody about I guess.”

“One of us is gonna die, so… it doesn't matter what we tell each other. No one can really embarrass themselves anymore. Okay?”

—

“How long have you been in Gotham? It isn’t a place where one would particularly reside.” We were both sitting at the stairsteps at this point.

I started with a question.

“Just been here since I was born, my mom found the “love of her life” here. She said we’d enjoy it”

“Did you?”

“...” She didn’t reply but rather stayed silent.

“Your family, are they still here with you?”

“My brother.”

“Any parents?”

“My father died getting shot in some back alleyway, at the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

“And your mom?”

“She got high off of drugs when she lost my dad, she overdosed not too long ago and her family took her away from us blaming us for the reason she suffers. I don’t know if she’s still alive and recovering or dead.”

“Where’s your brother now then?”

“In a shelter,” she hesitated. I was asking more than giving, but she still replied, and that was enough for both of us.

“If you win this and get the money, what will you spend it on?”

“Buy a house for me and my brother, then take us somewhere else, Gotham is no place for us, even if the top schools are here, there’s a price to pay for everything.” She was right about that.

I scoffed a little bored of that answer.

“Hey~ with this amount of money you could buy that and so much more- is there anywhere you’d like to travel?”

“Houma.”

“Houma?”

She nodded her head.

“It looked peaceful and had lower crime rates than most places. It didn’t look like Gotham at all.”

I couldn’t help but huff at that.

“Hey. Don’t you think you should dream bigger, huh? Do Keystone City. Hold on– Go to Metropolis instead. They even have lower crime rates than most.

Penny finally turned her head around and looked at me for once out of this entire conversation.

“Metropolis?”

“Yeah, the Superfam lives there. You know the Kryptonite versions of the Batfam in Gotham?”

It seems she didn’t care much about superheroes which made me giggle.

“Really?”

She shook her head.

“Oh no, then we have you fix that, we’ll have a girl’s night out every week in Metropolis and get to meet the Superfam in the flesh, okay?” 

She looked away at that.

“Oh, guess we can’t both leave here?”

…

“Back when my father was alive he was the perfect guy, he was too generous for his good, I was too naive as a kid rushed into the room where he laid to rest before he was covered and saw his gorey body,” Penny told me.

“The first body I saw was this poor kid on the side of the street abandoned just like me, he died inhaling too much of Scarecrow’s gas.”

“Abandoned?”

“Oh! I haven’t told you my backstory, it’s not as tragic as yours, no. My mother married a billionaire and took cash before running away without me when I was five. Everybody blamed her actions on me, making me feel too shameless to ever ask for cash, then I got kicked out at eighteen and took too much debt for regular supplies and school debt then landed here.”

“I wonder if I had money, what would I do… Go to Houma with you?”

A silence ensued between us making me look away.

“Sorry, I forgot again.”

As the timer started running out the sun kept going down even lower. Penny stood up.

“Let’s do this.” I smiled at that.

—

Third POV

By now, some VIPs were disappointed not because they had lost money but because they had lost the guessing game of lives.

Others were happy with the result.

But for our main characters well, can you guess how they’re feeling?

Unnerved, whatever [name] was planning. Are they going to win this game, or will they lose? Would the Wayne family see their dear family die with a bullet to the head?

Bruce never meant to treat you like that, but you’d have to understand your mother betrayed him, and you were there… and you didn’t do anything.

Oh, what could you have done? 

Alert the whole house of her leaving? Then what?

It was never your fault, you did everything you could to appease them, they just never forgive your mother.

—

We stood up passing a dead body and went to an “empty” land.

“Whoever can roll it farther than the other person wins, okay?”

I let Penny get the head start.

I held my marble in my hand.

Pondering.

I didn’t have much to live for, did I?

I had no friends, no family, and nothing to my name other than the daughter of a gold digger or the bastard child.

What’s the point?

I I guess this game was pointless after all.

I let the marble slide off my hands landing a few inches from my foot.

Straightening my posture I feel Penelope approach me.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” She grabbed me by the collar of the tracksuit.

“You win, I lose.”

“Stop. Why the hell would you try to do that?” She still kept a firm hold on me.

“Butter fingers, what can I say?” I chuckled, scrunching my eyebrows at her.

“Making sure I won. Is that what this is?”

She slammed me into the wall again.

“Did you think I would be grateful? Throw it again.” She demanded.

“And I still wouldn’t be able to win.” I kept my smile on.

“Ugh, don’t be dramatic and let me die in style, hm?” 

This was the reality, and if one of us had something memorable to do once we had gotten out of there, it would be her. Wouldn’t it?

“[name], that’s bullshit! Stop acting cool and just do a real throw!”

I sighed no longer keeping my damn smile on my face.

“I have nothing.”

“What?” Penelope didn’t let go, though. It seemed like she would allow me to talk a bit more.

“You have a reason to get out of this place… I don’t.”

Penelope kept breathing shakily. 

“I thought hard about what I would do, over and over, nothing. It’s like a dead end.” I felt myself tearing up.

I didn’t want to burst out in tears, I hadn’t done that in a while. 

I’ve always hated getting emotional, but it feels like a relief to get it off my chest.

“If anybody has a reason to go back out still there, it’d be you.” I laughed despite tasting the salty tears that leaked from my eyes.

Penelope didn’t seem the type to get emotional either, though that didn’t stop her from letting a couple of tears flow.

“Don’t die here, go out there… and find a place where you and your brother can reside. Far from any crime preferably to Houma.” I chuckled.

…

As Penelope walked away, I didn’t want that to be how our interaction ended, no, not like this pathetic goodbye.

“Penny!” I wasn’t sure she’d respond to that nickname but to my surprise, she stopped.

It made me widen my eyes briefly before going into a somber expression.

I held in my tears at that moment, stabilizing my voice.

“Thank you… for playing with me.” I was glad the guard let me have my closure, you don’t think they’d have the heart with their roles.

BANG

Player 240, eliminated.

—

The blood sprayed out before her body collapsed onto the ground with a sickening thud.

This wasn’t the situation anybody wanted to be in.

— 

That’s it for now. In the next part of this option, the Batfamily will suffer and have flashbacks, as one does. If anyone has any advice on how to write some scenes, that would be spectacular.

I’ll be working on a request and then my So Much More series before getting to Astro! And then maybe the next part of this, so don’t expect it anytime soon. That’s all from me!

Taglist time! ❤

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell any wrong and tag the wrong person.

[bweeeb]

PUPPY EYES

Synopsis: When Pedro doesn't take you to the awards ceremony for his new movie, your relationship starts to go downhill with the thought that maybe you're too young to give him everything he needs.

Warnings: nothing major, angst, couple with problems, Pedro and you are 26 years apart.

Career, projects, new movies, memories, and that topic that always left you unsure—was it negative or positive anticipation when people brought up relationships?

It wasn’t news to anyone that five months ago, when you and Pedro made it official that you’d been secretly seeing each other for a year, people started digging into every little detail. And a few months ago, the age difference between you two didn’t bother anyone in your social circle. Both of you were adults who knew exactly what you were doing with your lives.

Even your parents, who had initially been surprised by the man 26 years older than you, eventually came to accept your choice. So it shouldn’t bother you or anyone else anymore.

"So, I don’t think you’ve ever openly talked about your relationship with Pedro Pascal after making it official. Is it okay if we discuss it?"

The podcast host smiled at you, and you let out an embarrassed laugh, shrugging.

"Why not?"

"How did you two meet?"

"We worked on the same movie, so we were constantly together on set. One thing led to another."

"And you never thought, like, ‘Wow, he’s way too old for me,’ since there’s a significant age gap?"

"Twenty-six years, isn’t it?" Another host interrupted.

"Didn’t he say in an interview that he wouldn’t date anyone with more than a 20-year age difference? Doesn’t that make you curious about what changed?"

"Well, when we met, I didn’t think much about it, and I don’t think he did either. Yes, he mentioned that he wouldn’t date someone with a 20-year age gap. But I’ve always had a thing for DILFs, and he’s definitely one. One thing led to another, without either of us realizing it."

Your cheeks flushed as you spoke honestly, your eyes briefly catching your publicist’s approving thumbs-up from behind the glass.

"I think it’s much more about connection than anything tangible, you know? Our age difference is almost unnoticeable in our day-to-day life now."

"Pedro is, what, around 50 years old? Let’s not pretend it’s entirely unnoticeable." One of them chuckled, and you narrowed your eyes, frustrated at how your words were twisted.

"You’re young, clearly with the body of a 23-year-old, while he’s middle-aged. I think people are just curious about what made you stay." The other one chimed in, leaning toward the mic. You smiled politely, glancing between the camera and the hosts.

"Maybe the real question is what makes him stay. He had a firm opinion, and suddenly, it changed. Pedro has the purest and most beautiful soul in the world. He laughs at his own dad jokes, he shows me things I’d never imagined because he’s from 1975, and he’s a man with a capital M who treats me like the last rose petal in the universe. So, honestly, if he ever agrees to do an interview with you, maybe you should ask him what makes him stay.

"After the podcast aired, what you thought would be a calm discussion turned into a social media battleground. People twisted your words and intentions.

"A man taking care of a child—what nonsense."

"Really, ask him why he stays because she’s unbearable."

"Did she call his jokes ‘dad jokes’? Who does that to their boyfriend? RUN, PEDRO!"

"She’s just after his money."

"The most boring woman in the world is with the hottest man alive. How does that even happen?"

"She has nothing to offer him. Relax, ladies, it won’t last three more months."

"Dakota Johnson seemed interested in him; I wouldn’t be surprised if he ditches this corn husk for her."

"If I knew he was into younger women, I’d have listed a hundred better options than Y/N."

"Wait, guys—he didn’t even take her to the Gladiator premiere. How serious do you think this is?"

It was exhausting. Even though you avoided reading the comments, they popped up everywhere, and all the therapy you’d done to maintain a stable mental health seemed to be slipping through your fingers. But Pedro couldn’t know, so you plastered on a sweet smile whenever you saw him, even as doubts began to creep in.

Maybe you really were the worst option for him. Maybe someone older, with similar experiences, would be better. Someone more mature, less bubbly and silly.Sitting in the car, you stared blankly out the window as Pedro talked about the Gladiator premiere—the one you hadn’t attended because you weren’t invited.

"Hey, are you okay?" It wasn’t that you weren’t listening. You just didn’t have much to say, so you let him keep talking.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Go on."

Your smile didn’t falter, and you silently thanked yourself for being a good actress.

"No, you’re not fine. What’s wrong?"

"Of course I am. It must’ve been surreal, babe. Even Dakota Johnson was there, right?"

"Yeah, but what’s wrong with you?" His eyes left the road momentarily to glance at you. You shook your head.

"Nothing. You’re just imagining things." You leaned over, cupped his face in your hands, and pressed a kiss to his lips before pulling away.

"Eyes on the road, old man."

"Okay, but I thought I was your daddy."

He exaggeratedly rolled his eyes as if offended. You loved that about him—the way he was so expressive and dramatic, some might call it embarrassing, but you found it endlessly entertaining.

"You know when you’re my daddy," you said with a mischievous smile, swallowing the rising bitterness in your throat. That night was the last time you slept at his place. Over the following days, you insisted on being dropped off at home, and Pedro didn’t argue. He simply observed your strange behavior.

At first, he thought you might be pregnant and unsure about what to do. But then he remembered you weren’t the type to hide something like that. He considered that maybe you were overwhelmed with your new projects, but you usually loved talking about them. And then, his thoughts landed on your relationship. Had he done something wrong? He couldn’t pinpoint anything.

Five days later, the two of you were at a dinner with friends. Everything was going well until it wasn’t.

"Hey, Y/N, why didn’t I see you at the premiere? I thought I’d catch a glimpse of you in a glorious dress," Lux, Pedro’s sister, asked.

Your cheeks burned, and your heart raced with nervous discomfort. Were you supposed to admit you hadn’t been invited? No. Your mom had taught you better than that.

"I…" A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you shifted uncomfortably in your chair. You didn’t dare look at Pedro beside you, though you could feel his guilty puppy-dog eyes on you. You wouldn’t give in.

"I had some things tied up with the script for the movie. It was a hectic week."

In reality, the script had been finalized, and even if the writer had faced complications, you’d have found time to support your boyfriend and contribute new ideas to the director.

"Ah, really? What a shame. I hope everything’s okay now," Lux said.

"Oh, it’s all sorted," you replied, forcing a smile.Your smile faltered briefly when Pedro’s hand tried to find yours under the table. Clearing your throat, you stood up, announcing that you needed to use the restroom.When you returned, Pedro was chatting with one of his friends, and you were grateful he was too preoccupied to bring up the earlier conversation.

"Wow, did you do something with your hair? It looks blonder, or is it just me?" Hazel, one of Pedro’s friends’ girlfriends, asked politely.

"Yeah, I did. Amelia’s amazing," you replied.

"Oh my gosh, give me her number, please. I need something this stunning."

"Of course, I’ll even book you an appointment if you want."

"It’s impressive how an older man managed to snag someone as beautiful and sweet as you," Lux teased. Normally, you would’ve laughed it off, but everything felt different that night. You chuckled falsely, smiling as you’d been doing all week.

"Oh, come on, stop that," Pedro said, sounding uneasy. He could sense your odd mood.Of course, you were acting strange.

Everything had been strange lately.

Later, in the car, your gaze rested on your hands in your lap while you felt Pedro’s eyes boring into the side of your face.

"Honey—"

"If we could not talk about this now, I’d be much happier. Can you just take me home?"

"You know I want to—"

"Pedro."You turned to him, tired of pretending. Your voice was tense, and he immediately understood how serious it was. You never called him by his name. "Stop." Your tone wasn’t angry or annoyed, just lifeless. That terrified him. Women didn’t usually scare him. At nearly 50 years old, he thought he’d learned to handle these situations.

"I’m sorry, okay."

His gaze returned to the road, while you looked out the window, waiting to get home.

As you were arriving, you realized he wasn't taking you to your house but to his instead. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh and covered your face with both hands.

"What are you doing?" The words came out muffled as you felt him slow down.

"Going home."

"This is the way to your house."

"My house is your house, darling."

"You know what I mean," you whispered, exhausted.

"I thought you didn’t want to go. That it would be too much pressure for you, that... that you wouldn’t want people talking."

You heard him lament, and biting your lip, you sniffled. You tried hard not to act childish in the situation, looking up and taking a deep breath, reminding yourself not to let the tears fall.

"I know," was all you managed to reply before your voice broke.

"I... I just need to think for a bit."

"Think... right. Think about what?"

"Can you please take me home?" Pedro nodded at that and drove to your building. For the first time, he felt a strange haze between the two of you.

"Thank you." Even in the awkwardness, there you were, sweet as ever. Pedro could never deny how much he appreciated that about you—the way you always thanked everyone for everything. You were so pure. "Anytime." You opened the car door and stepped out, but before you entered the building, Pedro got out and called after you.

"I'm sorry. And I love you." That’s what he said before you turned to look at him with sad eyes—the same expression you wore when you thought he had forgotten to pick you up for a date, only to find out he was planning a surprise trip to Chile.That night, Pedro went home with his tail between his legs. When Lux called him in the morning, he couldn’t have felt worse.

"You look like one of the infected from The Last of Us. Gross."Lux teased as Pedro rubbed his face with his left hand."What do you want?"

"Wow. Rude."

"Sorry, I didn’t sleep. Just tell me why you’re calling me at six in the morning."

"I was thinking about how you said Y/N was acting strange, and I agree. Last night, she was quieter than usual. Pero luego empecé a preguntarme: ¿la invitaste al estreno? Porque se puso muy rara después de que lo mencioné y estaba revisando los comentarios..." ( But then I started wondering—did you invite her to the premiere? Because she got all weird after I brought it up, and I was checking the comments...)

"Ya te dije que no revises los comentarios. La gente está loca". (I already told you not to check the comments. People are insane.)

Pedro rolled his eyes, sighed, and collapsed onto the couch, exhausted. You and Pedro had talked about ignoring online negativity countless times. Neither of you usually cared about it. You weren’t starting now, were you?

"Lo sé, lo sé, pero se están portando fatal con ella. Y al no invitarla, la gente pensó que la estaban dejando de lado". ( I know, I know, but they’re being awful to her. And not inviting her made people think you were sidelining her.)

Lux sounded worried, almost angry.

"Eso es ridículo. Yo nunca haría algo así. Ella lo sabe. "(That’s ridiculous. I’d never do that—she knows that.)

"La compararon con Dakota Johnson. No es justo, son completamente diferentes. Dijeron que te cansarías de la 'niña'. Sabemos que es más madura que la mayoría de las mujeres, pero aún es joven". ( They compared her to Dakota Johnson. It’s not even fair—they’re completely different. They said you’ll get tired of the ‘kid.’ We know she’s more mature than most women, but she’s still young. )

Pedro propped his elbows on his knees and sighed. You had never acted immaturely. You never made rash decisions or threw tantrums over small things. You never picked fights or complained about work or friends. People didn’t know anything about your relationship—how could they?

"¿Crees que está preocupada? "(Do you think she’s worried)

"La mujer está intentando mantener la compostura y alejarse antes de que la abandones, como todos han estado diciendo". (The woman’s trying to hold herself together and pulling away before you ditch her like everyone’s been saying.)

Lux sighed and continued,

"Deberías haber escuchado cómo habló de ti en ese podcast. Nadie más sería así, no como ella. Haz algo. ( You should’ve heard how she talked about you on that podcast. No one else would be like that—not like her. Do something. )

Fuck. Pedro thought. He’d be stuck working all day, knowing you were likely asleep now. As the day went on, you ignored his missed calls. Not as an act of immaturity but because you needed personal space. You planned to talk to him eventually, but your phone felt like a weight you couldn’t bear. Instead, you threw yourself into work, ensuring every detail was perfect.Later, your group decided to go out for dinner, and you joined to keep your mind occupied. You loved them all but remained mostly a listener. Exhausted from a sleepless night, you struggled to follow the conversation, though you smiled at their stories.After dinner, you excused yourself to the restroom. As you washed your hands, you overheard two women talking in mocking tones.

"Do you think it’s a PR stunt?"

You frowned, listening as the other responded,

"It must be. I mean, it’s all over the news, and she’s playing the sad little girl role."

"Yeah, right? He used to call someone 25 a kid, and now he’s with a 23-year-old? Ridiculous."

"Did you see the photo of him with Dakota at the bar?"

"What? When?"

"Today, about an hour ago. She was kissing his cheek, and even if it’s for the movie, I doubt it. They weren’t even working."

"Think he’ll trade her in?"

"She won’t last ten days."

You grabbed your phone and opened Twitter. The first thing you saw was the photo of him and Dakota. He had that drunken smile on his face as she wrapped her arms around his neck. You weren’t the jealous type, fully aware of how PR worked in Hollywood, but it still stung.You washed your hands, turned to face them, and said,

"At least I’m more than a nameless extra without a single line. The only roles your venomous tongues will land you are in adult films, and not the Pearl kind—cheap, disgusting ones. Have a good night.

"With that, you left, hailed a cab, and went home. Fighting back tears, you repeated to yourself, Don’t cry. It’s just a picture. You ignored him all day, so stop acting like this.But for the first time, you cried over something like this.

Your head ached, and with the tip of your nose red, you picked up the phone and called him—without thinking too much, without wrestling with your thoughts. You just did what you felt needed to be done.The first call went straight to voicemail, and even though the thought of not wanting to humiliate yourself for him crossed your mind, you ignored it, knowing you were the one who had lost ground first. On the second call, your phone was answered, and the muffled sound made you swallow hard—he was out of the house.

“Hey.”

Your voice came out low, and you heard some murmurs on the other side, blending with loud conversation.

“Hello?”

A woman’s voice called from the other side, and you grimaced. “Uh, hi. Is Pedro there?”

“Uh, he’s kind of busy right now,” she said.

“Busy…” you repeated softly. “Who are you?”

“Carly.”

Carly? Who the hell is Carly? you thought immediately.

“Then tell him I called, Carly.”

“And you are…?” The mocking tone in her voice irritated you, and your expression was far from pleasant.

“A friend. Tell him a friend called.”

“Great.” She hung up without saying anything else, and you wrapped yourself in your own cocoon of blankets that didn’t warm you like Pedro did.Suits was playing on TV while you avoided going to bed, eventually falling asleep without even realizing it. Around 3 a.m., frantic knocks on your door startled you awake, making you look warily down the hallway. The doormen usually informed you of anyone coming to your floor.

Cautiously, you peeked through the peephole and saw him there, rubbing his face with his two hands, five times bigger than yours. You stopped, stepped back from the door, and sighed before opening it. Once you unlocked the door’s security latch, you looked at him and almost closed it again upon seeing your reflection, still wearing his shirt.

“It’s late. What are you doing here?” Your voice came out softly, and you saw Pedro stammer as he raised his hand in a nervous tic.

“A friend?”

“What?”

“Why did you say you were just a friend, sweetheart?” Pedro asked, stepping forward. You didn’t step back, only shrugged and gave a disheartened smile

.“She said you were busy. I thought it would be more… convenient than saying something else.”

“You’re something else. You’re my girlfriend. And my fiancée. And my wife. And I don’t care if you want to be the mother of my kids when I’m a hundred years old.”

He’s so drunk, you thought.

“How much tequila did you drink, Pedro?”

“The whole bottle.” He laughed, moving closer and gently touching your face. He’d always been gentle; being drunk didn’t change that.

“Please don’t tell me you’re breaking up with me.”

“I won’t say anything to you while you reek of cheap booze and cheap women.” You closed the door behind him and stepped away, heading to the hallway and your closet to grab a towel and clean clothes for him.

“Take a shower. If you sober up, we’ll talk.”

Pedro knew what you were thinking—that he’d gotten mad, drunk with his friends, and gone out with women named Carly. But he hadn’t done anything other than stare at the karaoke machine, hating every second he wasn’t there to mock what he was hearing.

“Everything’s cheap,” he laughed, following you.

“You know what isn’t cheap, Pedro? My patience. I haven’t slept well in over a week, and now it’s almost four in the morning, which means it’s been twenty minutes since you showed up at my door, and I don’t know why the hell you’re not naked yet.”

Your words left your mouth, and Pedro smiled at you.

“One day without you, and I forget how hot you are when you’re bossy and sleepy,” he slurred, making you laugh softly as you turned on the shower and pushed him into the bathroom.

“Don’t fall in there, please.”

Fifteen minutes after you pushed him inside, your eyes were heavy, and the strange way your body associated his presence with a different kind of rest annoyed you. Without realizing it, you fell asleep on the couch, wrapped in your blanket. It was as if your body said":

— Oh, it’s okay; Pedro’s home, so we’re safe,— but was your heart safe?When he saw you asleep there, the tequila had only left him dizzy—nothing a cold shower couldn’t fix. He approached and carried you to your room without thinking twice, whispering as he looked at your face:

“I’m so sorry, my preatty little thing.”

He laid you on the bed, and as he was about to leave, he heard you murmur:

“Stay. Please.”

Without hesitation, he lay beside you, pulling you against his chest and wrapping you both in a cocoon where it was just the two of you.

“Have you ever thought that maybe I’m not the right person for you?” you murmured, burying your head in his neck and feeling his hands trail up your back.

“Have you ever thought that maybe I’m not the right person for you, sweetheart?” he emphasized, and you sighed.

“I’m scared of losing you when you realize I’m too young, too naïve, and haven’t even experienced half of what you have.”

“I don’t even know why you’re thinking that. I’m the one who’s old. You’re perfect, intelligent, hot, and extremely talented—a young woman who fell into the arms of an old man like me.”

“Yeah, but I think maybe one day you’ll want someone your own age, someone like Sarah or any of your exes. I think it’s okay if you get bored of me, start feeling ashamed, and—”

“Stop. Stop that.” Pedro cupped your face, pulling it from his neck and making you look into his eyes. Your hands rested on his chest as you stared at him, and with a disheartened smile, Pedro caressed your face, clearly upset. When had your relationship reached such a fragile state?

“I didn’t take you to the premiere because the press is cruel. They’d talk about you, probably reinforce the rumors, and talk about me—call me a disgusting creep. I was going to take you, but all of our advisors told me not to risk exposing you in a bad light. I… I would never feel ashamed of you, for God’s sake. Look at you. A woman of any age wouldn’t hold a candle to you in a million years.”

Sniffling, you climbed onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Pedro sat on the bed, hugging you back, his hand resting gently on your waist.

“You don’t need to worry about anything. Whatever was written about you was a lie. God, I don’t think I even know how to live without you by my side anymore.”

You laughed, and a smile appeared on his lips.

“You don’t need to worry either. Other men lost their appeal the moment you wanted me.”

“That’s good, sweetheart.”

His hand traveled to the back of your neck, his large fingers running through your hair.

“And who was Carly?”

“A friend of the group.”

" And why did she have your cell phone?"

" It stayed on the table because I focused on looking at it for five to five minutes waiting for you to send me a message. "

“And the photo?”

He knew what you were referring to, and when he took it, he hadn’t expected it to reach you before you two made up—if you made up.

“It was to promote the movie, sweetheart. Dakota’s engaged.”

He brushed your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Hmm, alright.” You looked at him, tracing your fingers from his hair to his beard until they stopped at his mustache.

“Stop looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes. It makes you irresistible.”

“Like this?”

He did it again, and you laughed, kissing his lips immediately after.

“Mm-hmm, like that.”

You murmured against his lips as he smiled at you, and you whispered,

“I love you.”

“I love you more, sweetheart. Just you.”

Pedro pulled you close, laying you back against the soft mattress, kissing you as if it were the last moment of your lives. At least, that’s what both of you hoped.

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

I apologize if there are any mistakes in this writing. I didn't proofread it with the best eyes.

Requests are open

[alotofpockets]

Stretching the truth | Laia Codina x Physio!Reader

5k celebration prompt: "You haven't kissed me all day."

A/n: thank you @valkyrie-00 @totaly-obsessed and @catasha from the woso writers server for your ideas on this one!

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.7k

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After not having to wake up early during winter break, your 7am alarm was rough. You turned it off and before you were even able to get out from under the covers, your girlfriend wrapped her arm around your body and pulled you closer. “Don’t go.” She said still half asleep.

You had spent the winter break in Spain with Laia’s family. She had been missing her family, so it was a no-brainer to go. Your family was out here, and who were you to say no to the nice and warm Spanish weather?

In Spain you had spent almost every single day of your trip with Laia by your side, so you weren’t surprised that she was now clinging onto you. “Back to work today, love. I have to go in early to set everything up.”

“Five more minutes?” Her sleepy voice begged. “Alright, five minutes, but not a minute more.” You knew that if you wouldn’t stop it at five, Laia would be able to keep you there for an hour if she wanted to.

After cuddling for a while longer, you told her you really had to go. You placed a soft kiss onto her lips, “I’ll see you soon.” 

The first day back for you meant starting off with a few meetings, and setting up your physio room. A few of the girls would come in to get assessed before training, while the other physios had appointments with the other girls. 

On your schedule were Vic, Lia, Laura, and Lina. The girls had been either injured or just coming back from their injuries. You had been working with them before the break as well, and wanted to make sure that the work they put in over break did their bodies well.

Vic came in for her assessment first, you chatted a bit while you checked off all the boxes, and declared her ready to start training with the team. She had been working hard towards her comeback, and you were happy to see the progress she had been able to make already. It wouldn’t be long now before she would be playing again, you knew it and knew it made her incredibly happy.

The next person that came into your office was Lina, she came to you with some struggles. She let you know that her calf wasn’t feeling great, so you checked it out. After assessing her calf and the rest of your checklist, you recommended her to come in after her gym session.

The next person you expected to walk in was Lia, but instead it was Laia who walked through the door. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with Emma today.”

Laia closed the door behind her and sat down on your physio table. “I was, but she wanted me to see you instead.” You furrowed your brows, “Why? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just my ankle is bothering me a bit.” She said while putting her leg up. “Your ankle?” Her injury confused you, because she hadn’t mentioned anything during the break. 

“Yeah, my left ankle. I think I hurt it when I got out of the car, just a misstep.” You looked between her face and then the foot she put up. “Your left ankle is hurting, but you put up your right?”

Her eyes widened and it takes every ounce of power in you to stay professional and not start laughing. “Left? Did I say left? No no, I meant right. It- it’s the language barrier, I switched them up, accidentally.” 

With a shake of your head and a light chuckle, you say, “Alright, let’s take a look at your right ankle.” As you had expected, there wasn’t much you could find, just Laia dramatically flinching as if it was hurting. It was a good thing she didn’t go into acting, because it took everything in you to not just burst out laughing.

“It doesn’t look like much.” You said when you were done assessing her ankle. “But, let’s keep an eye on it. You’re all set to head to the gym.”

Laia jumps down from the bed like there was no problem with her ankle, confirming for you that it was nothing. “Thank you.” She says and steps closer to you, the twinkle in her eyes makes you take a step back instantly. “We’re at work.”

Your girlfriend’s shoulders slump down. “You’re right, I’ll see you later.” You don’t have time to feel bad, as the next player enters the room.

The morning was filled all the way until lunch break, which you spend in the dining hall with the rest of the staff and players. After break it was right back to work, some taping before you would spend some time with Vic on the pitch.

The only person that was scheduled to come in was Lina, but once again it was Laia who entered. “Oh hi. Is everything okay?” She nods, “Yeah, just a tight muscle in my calf and I wondered if you could help.”

You looked at your watch, about ten minutes before Lina would come in, so you told her to lay down. As Laia laid down on the physio table, you grabbed some massage oil and began working on her calf. You couldn’t deny how toned her muscles were, even if this was supposed to be professional. No wonder they made sure that Laia was usually seeing one of your coworkers and not you.

“Is this where it was feeling tight?” You asked, applying a little more pressure to a specific spot. “Mhm, yeah, right there.” She responded with a little too much satisfaction. Her tone made you chuckle. “What? You’re good at this.”

You rolled your eyes but kept working, your fingers kneading into her calf. "Feels more like you're enjoying this than actually needing help."

Laia turned around on the table and put her leg up, like you asked her to do. “You’re the best at giving massages, of course I would come to see you.”

You shook your head with a smile. “Hm sure, and the ankle this morning? Totally legitimate too?”

With the most horribly performance of an innocent face, Laia said “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Just as you were finishing up, Laia stretched her arms above her head, causing her shirt to ride up slightly, exposing her toned stomach slightly. You stopped talking mid-sentence, much to Laia’s delight. “Oh, was that distracting? Sorry.” She said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes jokingly, “You’re impossible.”

Before Laia could make a comeback, a knock on the door interrupted. It was Lina poking her head around the door, “Am I early?”

You looked at your watch quickly, “Right on time. Laia was just leaving.” She reluctantly hopped off the table. Giving you one last daring look, before closing the door behind her.

The team knew you and Laia were together, and you had become good friends with most of them because the two of you were dating, so it wasn’t weird when Lina raised her eyebrows at what just happened. “Something going on there?” She said with a knowing smile. “Just a very needy patient.” You joked back, before you told her to sit down, so you could tape her calf.

When you were done with taping, you headed into your office for a quick coffee break and filling out some papers for the work you had done today, before you would head out to the pitch with Vic.

“Hello!” A familiar voice said from your office door. You sighed and rolled your eyes lightly, while a smile tugged at your lips. “Laia, what is it this time?”

She stepped into your office and closed the door behind her with an innocent smile on her face. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Sleeping? Why are you coming to me for that and not Emma?”

Laia sat down on the chair across from you, her face plastered with a serious look. “Well, it’s about positions.” Her wording catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heating up, “What?”

“You know,” she continued, “positions. I can’t seem to find the right one… to sleep comfortably.”

“Okay, that’s enough. What is with you today?” You lean back into your chair and move your hands through your hair. 

"You haven't kissed me all day." Laia said with a pout. And then every single unnecessary visit started to make sense. “Oh Laia, really? You’ve been hogging my patient time because you wanted a kiss?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, though the mischievous glint in her eyes betrayed her. “Can you blame me? We went from spending every minute together to barely seeing each other all day. I had to be creative.”

You had to give her credit, she had been creative. “You know there’s a time and place for that, right? Here? Not the place.” You chuckled.

Her pout deepened as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on your desk. “But you love me, so you’ll forgive me, right?”

You sighed dramatically, though the grin tugging at your lips gave you away. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible to resist,” she said back instantly. Oh she was good, you thought while shaking your head. 

“Fine. One kiss. But only so I can actually do my job for the rest of the day.” You gave in. Laia’s face lit up and she was on her feet instantly. “Deal!”

She walked to the other side of your desk and waited for you to stand up to wrap her arms around your waist and give you a loving kiss. Laia was trying to deepen the kiss, so you reluctantly stepped back. “Not the place.” You warned.

Laia pulled away with a smirk. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Out. Go train or do something productive. I’ve got actual work to do.” Your girlfriend grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “Alright. I’ll behave.” She walked towards the door, before she closed it behind her she looked back and added “For now.”

You were left in the room shaking your head in amusement. She was really something. But you loved her dearly and could not wait to get home.

-----

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[basilthesnakingthing]

Yeah, I saw that definition on plurlpedia and it didn’t make much sense to me.

But . . thinking of myself like what I described might solve everything that’s wrong with me, actually.

Cause before I would think “I can’t control when I’m able to be productive, I just have to take advantage of it when doing something feels doable. But even then, I can’t control what sort of things I can be productive about. Art? Better than nothing, but it does ultimately feel selfish and self destructive of me at once when I haven’t seemed to be able to do almost any homework this whole semester and that job application is still blank. Why am I so helpless about what I can do, when? Even other ADHD people manage, like. There are things they can do to make it work. But there aren’t for me, not besides someone being in the room, interested in what I’m doing. And that’s not practical enough to be a real solution, nobody who cares has time to do that with me.”

But now that I’ve realized what I did in my last reblog, it’s more like “there are different versions of me, and each one has things they’re really good at, and things they want and some things they just can’t do. One of them can do art! And write, and work on ideas I thought of! It really likes explaining things and theoretical stuff and talking to friends. But in order to work on anything out of obligation, anything that I would be doing because I know I should, like cleaning my room or taking care of myself physically, doing nice things for other people or my homework, I have to switch and become this other version of me who doesn’t seem to suffer from executive dysfunction for some reason, and can do any of those tasks happily. That version finds that sort of thing very satisfying. But it’s the only version who can do things like that.”

I what feels like “me” is the sum of all four versions and their behaviors. But if I only think of it like that, my abilities are priorities seem so inconsistent and broken. I wonder if cultivating more separation would help. If it’s different entities with different abilities and priorities, than it won’t be inconsistent, and know I just have to be deliberate about switching. (Which, intuitively, seems like it would be easier to do if there was more separation)

Made a plural version of that one meme

[marauder-misprint]

Earning Trust

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.8k words

cw: fluff

If you weren’t talking to anyone last week after your date with Sirius, you weren’t make any sounds now. You stare into your mug of tea like it personally offended you. You could feel Regulus, Pandora, Evan and Barty staring at you, waiting for you to say something. They all saw you leave the common room last night to go to the Gryffindor party and all had retired to their dorms before you got back; Pandora was fast asleep when you entered your room. So far, the only information they had besides you getting back late was that you slept in your clothes, observation courtesy of Pandora, and Dorcas stayed with Marlene, evident from her empty bed that morning and her current presence at the Gryffindor table. 

Regulus holds out the bowl of sugar. “Sugar?”

You silently take one and drop it into your cup. You swirl the hot liquid around to dissolve it. 

“My money’s on sometin’s happened,” Barty says casually. The other three immediately look at him. “Between her ‘n’ other Black. Otherwise she wouldn’t be so…” He waves his hand at you haphazardly. “Whatever the hell this is.” 

“Mopey?” Evan offers.

“Grumpy?” Pandora suggests.

“I was going to say murderous.” Regulus says. “Didn’t even thank me for the sugar.”

You lift your gaze to glare at Regulus. You don’t mean to be grumpy, mopey or even murderous. Well, maybe a little murderous since you would’ve liked to have stayed in bed longer. More than anything, your silence is due to thinking about last night. You didn’t drink nearly enough to black out. No, you remembered all of it. You did drink enough for your filter to be essentially nonexistent, which is why you are questioning every little thing you said. 

Pandora waves her hand in front of your face. “Hello? Frowny McGrumpface?”

You turn your glare to her. “What?”

“She speaks!” Barty declares, throwing his hands up with so much momentum that he almost falls off the back of his seat. 

“We all know you were in Gryffindor Tower last night,” Pandora says matter-of-factly.

“So?” 

“Sooooo,” Barty says, “we know Meadowes didn’t drag you up there kicking and screaming.”

“You’d be correct,” you reply flatly with a roll of your eyes. 

“Did other Black invite you, did he?” Evan asks. “Is he why you went? Bloke’s not even on the team.”

You stand up, still holding onto your mug, and start to walk away. A bit dramatic, maybe, but you are more confused about your feelings than you were after your date with Sirius. You didn’t need your friends prying for every detail of your night. To your slight dismay, Regulus is quick to follow you.

“If it’s my brother, I think I have the right to-” Regulus starts to say as soon as you’re outside the Great Hall’s side door.

“He showed me your constellation.”

He blinks at you with a blank expression. 

“Did you not… learn that third year?”

“No, I did.”

“So why did he-”

“I don’t know, Regulus. Do I look like your brother?” you snap at him, interrupting him for the second time. 

You sigh and take a sip of your tea. Regulus stares at you before rubbing his chin and echoing your sigh. 

“He, erm, was the reason you went, right? He invited you?” Regulus’ voice is soft as he asks this, as if he knew you would clamp up again if he came at it too aggressively.

You nod and take a breath before saying, “I’m glad I went.”

A small smile appears on Regulus’ face. He reaches out to hold your shoulder. You take a tentative sip of your tea, unsure what he was going to do or say.

“If he hurts you in any way, they’ll never find the body. I’ll make sure of it.”

You struggle to swallow your tea so it doesn’t come spurting out of your nose. Regulus slips back inside while you try to compose yourself. You didn’t need to be at the table to know the rest of your friends would be trying to milk Regulus for information, nor that he wouldn’t tell them anything. 

You didn’t make it a full minute outside without Regulus. The biting winter wind was too much for you. You take two more sips of your quickly-cooling tea before going back inside. You set your cup back on the table and then leave the Great Hall. You aren’t particularly hungry, certainly not enough to endure Pandora, Barty and Evan, so you head back to the dungeons. Sleep is really what you need, you decide. 

You didn’t look over at Sirius while you were in the Great Hall. He, on the other hand, couldn’t take his eyes off you. He walked in after you did, spotting you immediately at the Slytherin table with hunched shoulders. He could barely look away to load his plate with food. He wasn’t even listening to whatever drivel his friends were talking about. He watched as you exited and were followed by Regulus, keeping his eyes on the door you disappeared behind until Regulus came back in and then you. From the moment he saw you to when you left the Great Hall alone, Sirius couldn’t rid himself of his smile. 

“Why’re you so chipper this morning?” Peter asks, reaching for his cup of coffee. 

All but Sirius were drinking coffee this morning. 

“Last night.” 

Remus raises his eyebrows. “What about it?”

“It went well. I really think it did.” 

“Does she, ahem, like you?” Remus asks. 

Sirius can’t help the slight blush that dusts his cheeks.

“Oh my Merlin, she does!” James gasps, slamming his hand on the table. “Pads, what?” 

Sirius doesn’t miss the way Remus shifts in his seat before hiding his face behind his cup. Sirius shrugs before stabbing the sausage on his plate. 

“It’s more than her thinking I’m attractive. She said I’m a good time,” Sirius says, his smile growing with each word. He can’t help the feeling of pride blooming in his chest.

“Okay, and?” Remus asks, clearly unconvinced about you coming around to Sirius. 

Sirius presses his lips together as he figures out how to phrase the tipping point from last night. He takes a sip of his tea to buy himself a moment more. 

“And… She trusts me.” 

“Lil’ dog person trusts you, huh?” Peter says.

“What do you mean?” James questions, waving his fork about. “Like you’re a trustworthy bloke but what happened? Did she just say that she trusts you? What does that even mean that she trusts you?”

Sirius chuckles with a shake of his head. “She knew she was drunk and chose to be alone with me.”

Remus waves his hand in a circular motion in front of him to encourage Sirius to go on.

“She was drunk and said, with confidence by the way, that she knew I’d get her back to the dungeons safe. From the Astronomy Tower.”

“That’s a distance,” Peter says with a snort. 

“Yeah, it is. And she was fully convinced that I’d get her back safe ‘n’ sound. If that doesn’t say she trusts me, I don’t know what does.” 

There’s a knowing glint in James’ eyes.

“So, would you say she’s a Sirius person now? Has she fully been converted?” he asks Sirius. 

Sirius didn’t answer right away. Part of him wanted to immediately say yes, you were. But you were drunk last night. He knew better than to confirm anything based on a drunk person’s words. He so desperately wanted everything you said last night to be true, to be how you felt about him. He knows he needs a sober conversation with you. 

“More than she was before,” Sirius says solemnly. 

That much he could say. If he had invited you to a party back when you first approached him this year, you would’ve turned him down with a sneer. You certainly didn’t verbally protest to him spinning you around after the quidditch game. And you danced with him. You invited him to the Astronomy Tower. Even if you were drunk, that had to mean something. 

Despite having homework he could’ve been working on, Sirius wanders the castle for most of the day. He has too much restless energy to sit still and focus - plus, he can always copy off Remus later. Not that anyone was asking, but if someone did, he was most certainly not looking for you. It wasn’t like he kept circling back to the library, the Astronomy Tower and the dungeons. It wasn’t like he kept that route on loop for hours. It wasn’t like he had your words from last night on loop in his mind. It wasn’t like he was hoping to run into you so he could ask you out on a proper second date. It wasn’t like-

“Sirius.” 

He stops in his tracks. The voice of his brother brings him out of his thoughts as he passes through the Slytherin Dungeons again. 

“Regulus,” he replies firmly. 

“Why’re you down here?” Regulus’ voice is flat, emotionless. He has suspicions as to why Sirius is down there, but he wants to hear him say it.

Sirius hums indifferently. “Just walking.”

“In the Slytherin Dungeon. Bit far from your tower, isn’t it?” 

“Taking a long walk.”

“Uh huh… So… you’re not looking for anyone?” A rare smile appears on Regulus’ face. “No one you want to discuss star charts with?” 

Sirius feels a blush creep up his neck as he takes a step toward his brother. 

“What’d she tell you?” he hisses as he flexes his hands within his pockets.

Regulus lets out a singular laugh. He caught his brother. 

“Not much. You showed her Leo and she’s glad she went.” He pauses to let that sink in for Sirius, before adding, “And then I reminded her that if you cross her, they’ll never find the body.”

“Ah, so you’ve decided,” Sirius says, not acknowledging the prior statement. “So, ah, where is she?” 

“Dorm, I think. Haven’t actually seen ‘er since breakfast.”

Sirius frowns. “That’s hours ago.”

“And you haven’t seen her on your… long walk? That’d put her where we can’t go.” 

Sirius clicks his tongue, about to turn away from his brother and go to Gryffindor Tower, when he decides to say one more thing. 

“Don’t tell her I was looking for her?” 

Regulus lets out a real laugh. “Oh, if she appears, I’m telling her.”

Sirius nods and says, “Thought it was worth a shot.”

“It wasn’t,” Regulus tells him flatly before turning away himself and heading back towards his own common room.

Sirius reluctantly heads to the Gryffindor Common Room to work on his homework with the Marauders. If he couldn’t find you to talk about last night, he might as well pretend to be productive. 

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn, @barnes70stark,

tags: @crowleythesexydemon, @flow33didontsmoke, @navs-bhat, @louweenier, @l0g0phobe,

@ellouisa17, @theendofthematerialgworl, @marina468, @bmyva1entine, @ravisinghs-wife, @azure-drag0ness

[capitanoidyll]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 13 | What Belongs to Him

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

Previous | Fic Masterlist | Next

You originally thought that sleep would be hard to come by, however, you were proven wrong when you woke up the next morning. Your body feeling better than yesterday thanks to the medicine that Luocha gave you. Sitting up in bed, you looked around your room, and then to your bedroom door. Your room, as far as you knew was your only safe haven and a place you could hopefully let your guard down. Though, you still worried… what if someone was in here right now hiding? You closed your eyes and tried to listen carefully, but you couldn’t pinpoint anything.

Moze has definitely left an impression on you…

Shaking your head after a few moments, you finally got out of bed. There was a dull ache in your legs and back, but it was bearable thankfully.

Now, Jing Yuan said my maids will help me today, but… ever since coming here no maid has ever made such an effort. Maybe once or twice, but that was about it. Probably because they don’t like me all that much.

You sighed at your thoughts and went for your wardrobe. Opening the closest doors, your eyes roamed over your dresses. Wait… are there more in here than before? You decided not to question it as you went for a dress that just so happened to be your favorite color. If Jing Yuan asks about it, then you could just say that he had said that it was your favorite color and that you could understand why you liked it so much now that you see it in person. Now, putting the dress on proved to be a hassle but you managed… somehow.

“Ok… so now what?”

You looked to your bedroom door again. Do you even risk it? Then again, it definitely beats staying in here all day.

So, gathering nay courage that you had, you went to your door.

“Ok, so I’m a princess with amnesia, and I’m to be married to the Emperor. In other words, I should act like I own the place, right?”

Steeling yourself, you opened the door and stepped out of your bedroom. Looking left and then right, you decided to head right. (You knew that the kitchen and dining room were that way, but you would just tell anyone that asks that you took a guess on which way to go.)

Walking down the halls, you noticed how some of the maids avoided you, not that you minded. You didn’t particularly want to talk to them either. It wasn’t until you passed by the stairs that you fell down that you stopped.

Thinking about it now, this means you fell down these stairs twice, right?

I hope I don’t make it three…

“y/n.”

You jumped a little and spun on your heel to look at who had spoken to you, but the voice was distinct. You already knew who it was.

“Yuan?”

The Emperor was smiling at you, “I’m surprised that you’re already out of bed,” he said as he came to stand next to you his eyes shifting from you to the stair case.

“Well, I know you said my maids will assist me, but no one ever came to check up on me, and…,” you shifted from foot to foot, “since I’m to marry you…. I thought I was allowed to walk around. Did I- did I mess up?”

Jing Yuan chuckled softly as he held out his arm for you. Taking a moment to realize what he was doing, you hesitantly wrapped your hands around his arm. One hand on his bicep and the other on his forearm. Once you gotten a hold on him, he started to go towards the stairs and with a shaky step from you, you both began to descend the stairs.

“You’re allowed to go anywhere your heart desires within my domain. Though, I do ask that you be escorted.”

You wondered if he could feel your fingers tremble against his arm. His arm, to which you noticed was lined with taught muscle. Focus, y/n, focus!

“I- I’m sorry, no one was by my door either…”

“I know, Blade, your bodyguard, was taking care of some business for me. He’ll be by your side again after breakfast.”

“Then is that why you were coming down the hall? To come get me?”

You saw a glint in his eyes as he smiled at you.

Once down the stairs, you went to let go of his arm, but he raised his other hand to keep your hands where they were. You looked back at the steps.

“Was this the staircase I fell down?”

Jing Yuan looked to where your eyes were watching, “yes, it was. Do you remember anything?”

You shook your head, “I just.. have a feeling is all,” you looked back up at Jing Yuan as he turned his gaze back to your face, “how about the one who pushed me… I heard it was.. a maid?”

“Yes,” you could hear the sigh in his voice, “a maid, but I wouldn’t worry about her. She has been properly dealt with.”

You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine. While you were sleeping in bed… some maid was getting killed.

“But why not give her a punishment instead?”

Jing Yuan hummed thoughtfully as he dropped his arm causing you to let go of his bicep and forearm.

And all too quickly he was in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks as his thumbs pressed right under your jaw and tilting your head up. You could feel the way your breath hitched and how your heart seemed to skip every other beat.

“Because little sparrow, I truly despise when someone damages what belongs to me.”

He let one hand fall from your cheek to rest against your throat. His fingers encircled your throat with careful precision as he leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips that contrasted with the way he held you in place. And all too soon his hands didn’t feel to domineering or suffocating as he moved them to slide down your arms and to your hips. His lips slowly detach from you as you silently caught your breath.

“Now, princess, let’s go eat breakfast. I was sure to tell the chefs to cook your favorites.”

He was going to kill you again; you were sure of it.

Taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[tonysbed]

Secrets I keep | Part 2

Max Fewtrell x Norris!reader

Lando Norris x Sister!reader

Daniel Riccardo x Norris!reader

summary: You and max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

not proofread

series masterlist | masterlist | previous | next

-

“I hate people” You say as you sit down at the small table in Daniel’s kitchen. He sets breakfast on the table and raises an eyebrow “I know, but why now?”

You turn your phone to him and show him the post that kika had send you earlier in the morning “Is it that unbelievable that two super attractive people are friends?” You chuckle at his words which makes him smile.

It slowly fades “Has lando said anything to you about it?” You shake your head but lean a bit back “Actually.. He did ask me yesterday what we are” Daniel raised an eyebrow “Really? And how did that go down?”

“Told him we’re friends. Then I asked why. He said he was just wondering and then told me to forget he asked” You shrug and take a bite of your breakfast.

“Hm. A tad weird no?” He says, sipping his coffee. You shrug “He can believe whatever he wants. And he’ll know where to find me if he has questions” Daniel nods and focuses back on his food.

“So, what is the plan for today?” You ask curious “Well, I’d say finally going to let you hold a koala and I got an invite to a party. You know these people too” He says with a smile. You smile wide “Koalas? Finally!” He chuckled “That’s the only thing you heard, hmm?”

“Absolutely. But yeah we can go. What kind of party?” He shrugged “just a party. nothing fancy” “no fancy clothes?” He shakes his head “Thank god. I didn’t pack fancy”

“As if we couldn’t just go and buy something” You roll your eyes at him “Finish up. I wanna see koalas” “Relax, they won’t run away” “You never know”

-

danielriccardo

liked by yn, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1m others

danielriccardo she finally got to hold a koala! and meet someone who looks happier than her 🐨👀

*tagged yn*

yn happier than me? more than you. You’ll get wrinkles from smiling this much

danielriccardo Im only smiling because you’re here

yn charmer much?

danielriccardo always for my favourite girl

yn dont make me blush, riccardo

danielriccardo 😁

user @/landonorris ???

user tagging lando as if he’s stupid

user he can read yk

landonorris are you ever coming home, or what? 😂

yn never. this place is to beautiful

landonorris daniel, i’d like my sister back

danielriccardo can’t do anything, sorry mate

user now why is he so close to her.. 👀

user sure, friends

user woman and men can be friends yall

*liked by yn*

-

yn added to their story

[caption 1: night out 💙 caption 2: I expected more patience from him.. he stood there for 20 minutes..]

franciscagomez girl, you’re telling me you two aren’t a thing??

yn yeah?

sure…

yn why is everyone so weird all of sudden. I’ve visited daniel alone before

that was different..

yn sure.

landonorris be safe please!!

yn will be. i’m with daniel, remember?

yeah that doesn’t calm me down..

yn ttyl 🫶🏻

yeah yeah 🤍

-

Drinks had been flowing for a good amount of time. It was safe to say that neither you nor Daniel were on the sober side. You stood next to him, while he was sitting on a chair, explaining something to the guy next to him.

One of your friends, who was rather clumsy, pushed you over and right into Daniel’s lap. You let out an surprised squeal and hold onto his shoulders for support. In an instinctive way, his arms wrap around you and leans against you in his drunken state.

You smile at the filming person who is laughing along you, while the friend who fell tried to get back up, which was even harder while laughing.

You helped her and watched them go to the bathroom. You now finally look at daniel, who’s lap you were still seated on. He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“If you wanted to sit, you could’ve just said something.” You laugh and turn to face the rest of the group “You’re an idiot”

“I’ve been told before” He laughed and you felt his thumb caressing your side. You sigh and let your head fall on his shoulder “Should we go home?” You hum “My feet hurt” “Told you to go in sneaker” “Shut up” He chuckled “I’ll call a cab”

-

You stumbled into the door and steadied yourself on daniel’s arm. You kicked off your shoes “I’m so dead” “Me too. Sleep?” “100%. I’m eating tomorrow.”

He nods and kicks off his shoes as well. You flop down on the couch “that’s not your bed” “I’m to lazy to walk there” He laughed and stumbled over to you. Before he could say anything, you moved and held up the blanket, inviting him.

“Not the plan but sure” He laid down next to you, looking at you. You make him turn and lay on his chest “Definitely comfortable” You mumble before your knocked out cold.

He laughs softly before closing his eyes as well.

-

Lando had been kind of worried about you. He knew how daniel could get when he was drunk. He had stopped the aussie from doing stupid things before while partying. He let his head fall backwards with a groan.

Max looked up from his phone and sighed “Just text her” “So I’ll get the same answer as before? No thanks”

Max rolls his eyes “I’ll be on stream if you’ll need me.” He got up and walked into his streaming room. Lando stayed on the couch. It was already late in australia, he knew that. You should’ve been back already.

His phone lights up and he sees his mothers name.

‘Did you know about this?’ Attached was a picture of you, sitting on daniel’s lap.

He opened the message

Lando sets his phone down. The picture engraved in his mind. This was out of character for you. Or was it? Did he even know who you were? Were you as close as he thought?

His thoughts were interrupted by Max poking his head in the door “Should we order some food? I’m starving” Lando nods “Sure”

“What’s up with you?” Lando shakes his head “Still about Yn and daniel?” “There is a picture from tonight..” Max raised an eyebrow as lando picks up his phone and shows it to max.

Max’s fists clench at his sides and he has to restrain himself from a sarcastic comment “Oh”

“Why would she lie? I mean, she could’ve told me! I’d rather know from her than the internet” “I’m sure she’ll explain.” “I hope.” “Let’s order food and get your mind off a bit.”

-

You had woken up with a raging headache. You tried to sit up, which didn’t work. You look up and see Daniel’s sleeping face. You feel his arms still wrapped around you and pause. Why in gods name are you in this position?

You gently lift his arms and slip out of his arms. You get into the guest bedroom and put your phone down to charge. While your phone was charging, you got some ibuprofen, water and set some down on the couch table in front of sleeping Daniel.

Your phone finally turns on. You’re horrified when you see missed calls from your mom, and texts from various people. You check your moms messages first and freeze again. When did that happen? You on Daniel’s- The fall.

Oh great.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and try calling your brother. It was around midnight in the uk so you weren’t sure he was going to pick up.

“Yn?” “Lando! Oh thank god. Thought you might be sleeping” “no, i’m not. I can’t sleep actually” You hesitate “The picture-“ “I don’t wanna hear it. Why would you lie to me?” “Lando-“

“no. you go and say you’re friends and that’s what I see? Who are you trying to fool here?” “We are just friends!” “sure as hell doesn’t look like it”

“Lando. We were drunk. I was pushed and landed there” “Sure. Well, good to know you’re okay. I’m going to bed.” “Lando please” The line goes dead and you sigh. Great.

You go and call your mother, who was a bit more understanding but still didn’t quite believe the story you told her.

A knock on the door startled you “yeah?” Daniel slowly opened the door “You okay?” You nod “Headache is getting better. Did you take your ibuprofen?” He nods “So..there’s-“ “A picture yeah. Mom and lando already ripped me one.” He sighed and sat down next to you on the bed.

“It is so out of context! This is really annoying.” He nods again and looks at his hands. You stand up “I’m gonna go and eat something. You coming?” “Yeah”

This time, the kitchen was silent. Neither of you knew what to say after last night.

-

“So when is he supposed to be here?” You ask Daniel as you put on your hiking shoes “Any minute. Oscars quite on point when he’s supposed to be there.” In that moment the doorbell rang.

Oscar stood there, smiling softly “Good morning you two! How have you slept?” You roll your eyes “Fine. We really shouldn’t have had that many drinks tho” Oscar chuckled “Yeah I saw. What did Lando say?”

You three make your way downstairs “He wasn’t mad about the sitting in his lap thing at all. He thought I was lying tho when I told him we’re just friends, which isn’t a lie. We’re really not together. Nothing.” You say defeated.

“I’m sure he’ll calm down and you’ll get to talk to him.” You nod “I hope. I really didn’t lie to him” Oscar pats you on the back “It’ll be alright. He’s bark no bite”

Daniel laughs “That’s what i said too! He couldn’t be mad at you forever even if he tried. He loves you way to much” Oscar nods in agreement “He’s always talking about you. Sometimes I feel like I know you better than Lando” You chuckle at that.

“Ill text him once we get back”

-

yn

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, danielriccardo and 926.467 others

yn when in australia ☀️

*tagged oscarpiastri / danielriccardo*

oscarpiastri my hair oh god

yn I loved it 😂

danielriccardo yeah, i’m sure lily loved it too 😂

oscarpiastri I hate you both

yn 🧡

danielriccardo never going on a hike with you ever again

yn why? I made it to the end

oscarpiastri after laying on the floor and refusing to get up because you know who is ignoring your messages

yn now that is mean

danielriccardo no, just the truth

user Is lando ignoring yn??

user I would too if my sister would have something going on with my friend

user we don’t even know if they do

user have you not seen the pictures??

user and? you need to chill out. not every woman who has a guy as friend wants to date him

*liked by yn*

user see? she even liked the comment.

user the difference between daniel and oscar 😭

user daniel is so boyfriend coded

-

Daniel closed the trunk and made his way to the driver seat. You stare out of the window. Neither of you have actively acknowledged what had happened the night before. The hike with oscar took your mind off it all a bit but you were sure. You had to get to lando before it all gets to his head.

The ride to the airport was quiet. Only as you finally made it and Daniel got your stuff out of the trunk, he finally looked at you.

“Here” “Thank you” “I’ll bring you to your gate” You nod and you both walk in silence. It wasn’t as comfortable as it had been a few days ago.

As you arrived at your gate, you hug him. You stay like that for a few moments before you pulled away.

“yn?” “Daniel” He looks at you a bit nervous “We’re good, right?” You smile softly “Yeah, we’re good. I’ll text you when I land.” He nods “Have a good flight” You wave at him as you leave.

caption: Home sweet home 🇲🇨❤️

franciscagomez weren’t you supposed to be back in like 5 days?

yn lando is ignoring me because of the picture. There’s more to that.

oh..hope you guys figure it out. Gossip sesh w alex soon?

yn 100%

-

Max got a bit mean, oops. Let’s see what she’ll do and what Lando does next 👀

I’ll try posting every 1-2 days. I don’t do tag lists btw

[itstheghostofmypast]

Sugarplum

Husband Choi San x (F) Reader

Summary: So he loved HIS ROLLS HUH?!

Genre: Fluff

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 1 K

Est. Read Time: 5 min

Warnings: None

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

"IDIOTS!-"

Sitting up straight the man squinted at the dimly lit room, trying to blink away the sleep as he pushed off the soft quilts, the pads of his feet tingling at the feeling of the cold floor. A feeling he did not like but had to endure because his little sugarplum wasn't in bed with him. Well, technically you had not gone to bed with him, instead the two of you had argued about something before he retired off to bed- mind you, it was not his fault, it was the world that was against him today…or maybe he should have been more careful? There was no real defense, but he did not expect to find you at home, glaring at him as soon as he had entered the apartment, declaring his arrival on the top of his lungs.

“Oh look Byeolie, a cheater.”

“I-Excuse me?” he squeaked, staring at you standing there in the living room with your hands on your hips, wearing a messy apron, glaring at him.

“Come on Byeol, we don’t need to engage with cheaters.”

That statement had led to march into the kitchen and stared at his wife teary eyes, “W-what do you mean? Love, what’s wrong? I-I’m sure there's been a misunderstanding!” he’d never do something like that to you, especially not when he started courting you the moment your father had hired him, a college student in his first year, and you had to supervise him, even though you two were almost the same age. From the way you would help him with everything, cleaning, mopping, teaching him how to knead dough, how to use a frosting pipe, and how to make a perfect cup of coffee- he really should thank you for that more.

Though for some reason you didn’t budge, he noticed the way your expressions softened, but you said nothing and only turned around to face the scattered baking items on the counter, taking a deep breath as you mumbled, “I’ll bring you dinner.”

After a silent lonely dinner, he had gone to place his plates in the dishwasher, glancing at you for some kind of reaction but you kept avoiding him, too busy doing something else, even Byeol had decided to give him the silent treatment. He honestly couldn’t figure out what he had done? Even when he hugged you from behind, whispering, “Let’s…go to sleep.” You had slipped out of his hold and cleared your throat, “I’m not tired…you go on ahead.”

Oh…right, he had gone to bed alone too- but why weren’t you there with him?

He had thought of talking to you about it, when you were to come to bed, but he had work in the morning and he was tired, and somewhere between the ticking hours, he had fallen asleep, snuggling with your pillow.

Giving one last look at your shared bed, feeling something brew within him, he continued to walk out to the room, wanting to clear it out no matter what it was, your relationship was stronger than this, you two had gone through worse- but he knew that you were also someone who’d quiet down when you were unsure of something. Like the time he had to quit working at the bakery, simply because he was done with college and needed to pursue a job in his designated profession.

“You're….quitting?” You had mumbled, staring at the letter of resignation your father had signed to let him go with pride. You had watched him appreciate San's success, though you only stared at him blankly before going back to work, and much like now, when he had approached you, you had brushed him off, mumbling, “Bye”.

Only back then he had let you go, nodding and leaving, though over the years he had realised his mistake, the world had shaped the young boy into the same man who had barged into the bakery four years later, admiring the way how you, the new owner since your father had retired, was busy as a bee. That is until he had grabbed your hand and dragged you into the office and kissed you without question, which was stupid because as soon as he had pulled back you had giggled, “What if I said I'm married?” His world had come to a halt at that, the thought of being a homewrecker tearing at him for a good 10 minutes until you burst out laughing at his stupidity.

So, that's what he was gonna do now to, kiss it out of you, he was going to sit you down after and explain to you how if he had never met you back in the bakery, his twink era, he would probably never have found love-

“GOD, I HATE MEN!”

He peeked into the kitchen, flinching at the clang of the pot you had slammed on the counter, it was ironic how Byeol who was curled up on your cardigan that was bunched up on the bar stool, next to the one he was now sitting on, chin in palm.

You turned around and gasped, hand pressed against your heart, taking a deep breath, “I-God, you scared me- s-sorry, did I wake you up, Sannie?”

‘Sannie'- guess the anger had subsided.

Shaking his head he gave you a small pout, “Woke up cause you weren't there- are you…do you wanna tell me…what's going on?” He mumbled, staring around at the several cinnamon roll trays that were lying around the kitchen, the pan filled with the white cream sauce, some that had made its way onto Byeol's tail.

“I…nothing… its stupid.” You mumbled, as you began to clean up, trying not to look at him when he made his way to you and grabbed your hands, pulling you closer, “You signed a contract with stupidity when you married me.”

Closing your eyes at his stupid comment, you mumbled like a child, “I saw you having the Cinnamon rolls from Jung's bakery.”

“What.” He frowned, trying to hear you better, “You saw me having Wooyoung’s what?”

“HIS CINNAMON ROLLS!”

You shoved him away and pointed at the mess, “You bastard! U married me!” You pointed at yourself, “And then you have the balls to go and have his stupid rolls!? And” you picked up a roll, “His recipe is so stupid! Men are so stupid! Why is everything measured according to ‘just wing it gurl’- what does that even mean!?” He blinked at you, watching you screech like a hawk at 3 am, “That bastard! I told him I'd trade my strawberry tart recipe with him if he gave me his cinnamon roll recipe that YOU apparently love-”

The slight pressure on your lips cut you off, as you to fisted his shirt in frustration, tugging him closer until he cupped your face to create some room to take a breath- he'd have to piss you off more if that's the kind of kiss he’d get- “I…” he panted, resting his forehead against yours, “Only had them because your bakery was closed today…remember?”

“...”

“I love you, my sweet little sugarplum-”

“Shut up and help me clean, Choi.”

[miustrz]

TO NOT REGRET

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

PLOT: your best friend since childhood, would it mess up your relationship if you were to confess?

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

You felt so wrong. So messed up.

Everyone had warned you. They said having a guy best friend for so long would only end one way—you’d catch feelings for him. But you never believed it. You were married, after all. To the love of your life. Or so you thought.

He did everything for you. Everything to make you happy. You needed him, and he gave you that, without hesitation. But then one night, everything fell apart.

Your phone rang. It was Junho. In the middle of the night. Your eyes were heavy, but you picked up anyway, trying to keep quiet so you didn’t wake your husband.

“Hello? Junho, why are you calling me this late?” You rubbed your eyes, your voice thick with sleep. But on the other side, there was only quiet—then sniffles.

“Hey... Junho, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you want me to come to you?” Your voice shot up, the panic creeping in. Something wasn’t right.

“I... I need you. I don’t know what to do...” Junho’s voice was shaky, like he was breaking.

Your heart dropped. You could hear the desperation in his words. “Junho, where are you? What’s going on?” You stood up, looking over at your husband, still asleep in bed. For a moment, you just stared. But then you kissed his forehead, instinctively, and walked out of the room.

You grabbed your keys. The worry inside you was growing. “Junho, are you still there? Where are you? What happened?”

“I’m at the beach... at the dock we used to go to.”

You felt your pulse quicken. The dock? Why was he there, at that place? What was going on? But all you could think was, I need to be there for him.

You started the car and drove off into the night, unsure of what you’d find, but knowing you couldn’t leave him alone.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel as you followed the winding road to the beach. It was quiet now—Junho hadn’t said anything since his last words, but that heaviness hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. You tried not to think too much about what you’d find when you got there. All you knew was that you had to be with him. He needed you.

The headlights of your car bounced off the sand as you finally reached the dock. You parked, your breath shallow. There, sitting alone in the dark, was Junho. His shoulders were slumped, his head down. He seemed so small, so fragile. In his hands, he was holding a crumpled paper, staring at it as if it were his only lifeline.

“Junho?” you called softly, stepping out of the car, your voice trembling.

At the sound of your voice, he slowly lifted his head. His eyes were red and puffy, tears still glistening on his lashes, and in that moment, it hit you. This wasn’t just about a late-night breakdown. This was something deeper.

Before you could take another step, Junho looked at you with such raw vulnerability that it made your heart ache. Without thinking, you rushed over to him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight, desperate hug.

“I’m here. I’m right here, Junho,” you whispered, trying to steady your breathing, but felt your own tears beginning to well up.

Junho didn’t pull away. He let you hold him, his body shaking slightly. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, you pulled back slightly, cupping his face with your hands, looking at him with worried eyes.

“What’s going on? What’s making you feel like this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid of what you might hear.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he handed you the paper he had been clutching, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch. You unfolded it, your heart sinking when you saw the familiar handwriting. It was both of yours handwriting. From when you both were younger, back when everything felt so simple.

You read it aloud, your voice thick with emotion, “We’ll stay together forever. We’ll get married. We’ll have two dogs, and one baby girl…” You voice faltered, and the tears you’d been holding back came pouring down your face. “Junho… why are you showing me this?” you choked out, your hands trembling as you held the paper.

Junho swallowed hard, looking down at the sand between them. “Because I... I need you to know. I never stopped feeling this way about you, Y/n. I never stopped loving you.”

Your chest tightened, a wave of confusion and sorrow washing over her. You tried to speak, but the words got caught in your throat.

“I didn’t mean to ruin anything,” Junho continued, his voice quieter now, but still laced with raw honesty. “I’ve watched you be happy with him, and I didn’t want to mess that up. I didn’t want to be the one who told you this and make you question everything. But I can’t keep pretending that this—” He gestured between them, his hand trembling, “—is nothing.”

Everything you thought you knew, everything you had felt in your heart, was suddenly unraveling before you. “Junho… I—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head, trying to process his confession, his words.

Junho looked at you with that same broken expression. “I don’t want to make you choose. I just... I need you to know how I feel. And if that means letting you go, then I’ll let you go. I’ll stay in the background, like I’ve always done.”

But you couldn’t even think about that. You couldn’t think about choosing. How could you, when everything inside you felt torn between loyalty and this pull to Junho that you had been running from for so long?

“Junho, I... I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your heart shattering. “I’m married. I love him. I love my life with him. But you… You’re a part of me, too. I never thought—” your voice cracked, “I never thought you felt this way.”

Junho nodded, his face unreadable. “I never wanted to make things harder for you. But I also couldn’t live in the shadow of what we used to be without telling you.”

You stared out at the water. “What are we supposed to do now?” you murmured, tears slipping down your face, feeling like the weight of everything was too much to bear.

For a long time, Junho didn’t answer. He just sat there, beside you, the two of you facing the endless horizon, lost in the silence between them.

Junho shifted beside you, his eyes still on the sand, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. Neither of you spoke, as if you were both trying to piece together everything that had been said, everything that had been hidden for so long.

And then, without a word, Junho turned to you. He reached out, his fingers brushing gently along your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn't even realized had fallen. His touch felt like fire, soft and burning at the same time. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding as he slowly leaned in.

Before you could process it, Junho’s lips were on yours. It was tender at first, as if testing the waters, as if asking for permission. You froze, your mind screaming at you to pull away, to stop this from happening. But then you felt it—the warmth of him, the closeness, the years of friendship and longing that suddenly rushed forward all at once. Your hands moved on their own, reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss.

Junho’s lips were desperate now, as if he had been waiting for this moment, this feeling. And you, lost in the emotions, lost in everything that was happening—responded just as fervently.

When you both finally broke apart, both breathless, Junho’s eyes were filled with something you couldn’t quite describe. “I don’t regret it,” he said softly, his voice hoarse.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You could barely process the words, but in that moment, you didn’t need to. You were overwhelmed, but in the best possible way.

For a split second, you just stared at him, your lips still tingling from the kiss, your mind racing with a thousand questions. And then, before you could stop yourself, you leaned in again, this time more certain. You kissed him back, slowly, but with a deeper hunger, as if the kiss itself was an apology, a confession, and an answer all at once.

When you both pulled away again, you looked at him, your eyes filled with emotion. You didn’t regret it either.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like you were finally being honest with yourself.

[writing-whenever-whatever]

Little song bird-we will create and nurture a new Rome

Geta x reader x Caracalla 

Part 1 part2 part3 part 4 part 5

Summary: after getting home you and geta soon get into a slight conflict hurtful things are said and you end up upset but will he ever apologise 

Warnings : argument, injury, talk of abuse, apologies, mansplaining, sweet Caracalla , slight threat.

———————————————————————

Once I’m bathed and clean I’m sat in my bed chamber in only a towel as the healer sits tending the gash in my thigh using different ointments and oils to clean it, 

“ you must be careful when doing such reckless things my lady” he lectures his voice holding priority as he looks at me “ you could have seriously hurt yourself “ he adds on as I look at him” tis only a cut I see no damage done “ I scoff looking down at the man “ I do not need lectures to understand what I should and shouldn’t do” I smile slightly looking at the man who bandages my leg.

 “ you needn’t bother “ my hand landing to rest on top of his stopping him from wrapping my leg up any tighter “ it’s not even bleeding anymore “ I reassure him as he looks at me “ you’re a wild woman empress, you’ll be well suited at the emperors sides” he smiles up at me just as the doors open both brothers walking in “ ah ,your leg how is it” Geta asks meeting my bed side “ it is fine” I smile as he rests a tender hand on my shoulder “ its only a small tear in the flesh it’ll heal quickly and leave a small scar” the healer adds not looking up at the emperors as he talks “ good nothing to serious” Caracalla chuckles as he lays next to me on my bed 

his head tilting to look down  at me “ you should be more careful “ he scolds playfully tapping my cheek with each syllable a grin beaming down at me as Geta pulls my chin to look at me “ he’s right you know “ his eyebrows furrow slightly tone more serious

“what if he attacked you after you did such a delusional thing” he looks at me my head moves to look downwards “ but he didn’t” I mumble “ song bird” geta pulls my attention back up to him his  voice stern “ I’m not sure what they do at your place of birth but here ladies don’t start fights “ I grit my teeth at this “ don’t bring my birth place into this” I look at him “ and maybe if women put more of fight up there’d be less cases of ladies being attacked and defiled in Rome. I will not fall a victim just because I’m told I should be a lady” I pull my head away from him “ is this what your pathetic little meeting was about, trying to bring me down to reality well if you want a perfect little Roman wife then go a head and find one because you will not find her in me” I stand up glaring at Geta as I push past him and walk out of my bedchambers 

“ that’s not what I meant , darling come back” Geta yells out just to be ignored by me as I walk into the private gardens sitting under a gathering of trees hidden from the windows that stare down at the gardens I can’t help but pull my knees up to my chest

Talking to myself “ if they wish to love me so much they’ll have to learn my ways I will not be pushed around “ I mumble to myself 

I stay sat there in the gardens for hours the sun has gone down and the air has a bitter chill I’m still only wrapped in a towel from my bath and I’ve started to feel exhausted, my head resting back on the tree as my eyes flutter shut feeling so heavy I can’t help but give in to sleep, as I drift off I feel strong arms wrap around me and lift me up off the floor carrying me back inside the clinking of armour hitting the floor with each step “ I found her emperors” a gruff voice states “ take her to her chamber let her rest but keep her room heavily guarded we don’t want our song bird flying away” geta looks at me a stern look on his face as he runs his hand over my relaxed cheek “ why must you make things difficult “ he whispers under his breath before placing a kiss on my forehead then the guard carries me back to my bed chamber laying me back on the bed and pulling the blankets over me tucking me in.

———————————————————————

When I wake up I’m curled up in the centre of the bed I pull the covers over my head trying to block out the sun that pours in through the window. I haven’t forgotten what happened last night every time I think about it my heart sinks in my chest making me feel sick, but I’m not gonna back down he was in the wrong.

I stay laying in bed even when my maids come rushing into my room I roll onto my side ignoring them “ my lady it’s time to get up” she speaks to mr her voice trying to be gentle “ I’m not getting up today I’m staying here” I mumble quietly “ leave me “ I order as they stand in their place watching as I just lay there “ are you not feeling well my lady” she asks “ I’m fine just go” I look at them a stern look in my eyes as they quickly rush out.

———————————————————————

My key maid rushes to getas room where both emperors are sat discussing over wine and breakfast she knocks on the door waiting patiently “ enter” Geta calls out turning to see her as she enters the room “ emperors I’m afraid the empress is refusing to get up she doesn’t wish to be disturbed” she looks down bowing her head “ we will come see her soon till then just let her rest” Geta sighs turning back to Caracalla “ gods she’s stubborn “ he grunts taking a swig from his cup “ you were harsh on her last night” Caracalla looks at him as getas eyebrows furrow “ how I simply stated facts” he takes a sip of wine “ you spoke of her heritage as if she was a barbarian brother” he moves forward “ you upset her” he gets up “ i will go see her with dundus, she seems to cheer her up” he looks at Geta “ go ahead I will join you later” he states looking at his brother “ perhaps this time alone for her will make her realise the severity of her unladylike actions” Geta goes on making Caracalla role his eyes “ Oh please, the only reason you say such things is because of the senators in that boring meeting after we got home told you she needed to change. but deep down you know she really doesn’t it’s Rome that needs change” he walks out the room leaving Geta to think alone. 

———————————————————————

The door to my room cracks open as Caracalla peaks through “ my love are you awake” he questions looking at my sprawled out body on the bed he steps in dundus sat on his shoulder “ I brought someone to see you” he leans on the end of the bed looking over me as I lay silently not responding “ I know you’re upset I’m sorry for what Geta said I have talked to him but he is stubborn” I peak up at Caracalla “ I’m a savage compared to your Roman ladies, that is what he thinks” I mumble quietly “ not at all my love “ he lets dundus crawl up curling up next to me burning her small head into the crook of my neck “ Geta listens to the senators to much “ Caracalla explains looking at me “ darling understand your outburst yesterday and I thought it was one of the most beautiful things ive ever seen” he moves laying next to me his hand running along my cheek “ it’s ok to have outburst “ he looks at me “ trust me i know from personal experiences “ he smiles pulling me into his arms gently  “ you seem to be the only one to understand that” I mumble quietly resting my head on his chest as Caracalla runs his hand through my hair “ geta knows it but he just needs time for his reasoning to kick back in and for him to block out the mind fucking the senate gave him” he holds me gently letting me stay close to him listening to his rapid heart rate as dundus chirps for attention climbing over to Caracallas shoulder where she rests her self 

A few hours pass of me and caracalla laying together talking as the door cracks open and geta walks in “ song bird ” his voice quiet as he walks towards the bed looking at me snuggled in his brothers arms “ listen i did not mean what i said last night but you do need to be more careful of your actions” i peak up at him slightly “ acting so impulsively can get you in danger and i only want you safe” I sit up “ ok i admitted my actions were wrong back in the chariot after they happened “ i look at him “ then you started on me later that evening so i think you owe me an apology “ i raise a stern eye brow as he sighs “ that is what I am trying to do “ he states looking at me “ good” 

i look at him waiting to hear the word sorry to spill from his lips but he seems to leave me waiting “a good emperor knows when to admit his wrongs perhaps you aren’t as good as i thought you were” I sigh shaking my head as Geta stares at me shocked “ how dare y..” I cut him off quickly “ there we’ve both said something hurtful, maybe this can be over” I let a loose laugh fall looking at him “ fine” he looks at me “ I’m sorry” he huffs moving to my side of the bed 

“ see wasn’t that hard” I watch him roll his eyes before joining both me and Caracalla laying on the bed “ I’ve cancelled all our duties for today perhaps we could go for a walk or perhaps we can just stay right here” Geta looks at me as he runs his thumb down my jaw “ perhaps “ I smile at him as I snuggle between both emperors getting comfortable. I look at both men a small smile on my face “ all couples have arguments, it’ll just help us learn how to understand each other more” I rest my head back on the pillow “ tis only a few days till the wedding, so it’s best we learn as much as possible “ I suggest my voice coming out with a deep sigh Geta looks at me “ I don’t wish to argue “ he looks at me “if you want to know something just ask “ Caracalla adds his hand reaching out mine his fingers entangling with mine 

As the day goes on  we lay together talking getting to know each other deeper than before. I learn about how their father was abusive he refused to interact with the boys other than putting them against each other making them fight till one was passed out on the floor the only time he suggested they worked together was on his death bed. Then their mother a sweet woman who loved her boys would tend to them when keeping them safe against their fathers wrath they were devastated when she passed from an unknown illness she slowly faded away in front of the boys eyes. 

How I wish I could have met their mother she sounded like a loving woman, she sounded like the perfect Roman wife who provided everything a family needed love, understanding and boundaries she knew how to calm her children and her husband  she knew everything but some how I question if I’m expected to be like that. 

As both Geta and Caracalla  were already very aware of my home life, how I was treated by my father and his men so I told them other things. They learn that I could play the harp that id sit during dinners at home playing my harp non stop plucking the strings entertaining others as they ate and talked. I also told them about my love for animals that at home I had dogs they were more wild than the ones that lived in Rome but I trained them, fed them spoke to them, loved them even. but I was forced to leave them behind as my father refused to let me take them with me to Rome. 

“ is there anything you can’t do” Caracalla smirks staring off into the distance “ your like a goddess sent down just for us” he runs his hand over my thigh “don’t be silly there are many things I can not do” I giggle sweetly “ like what” gets asks looking at me his eye brow raised “ you can play instruments, speak perfect Latin, your good with a blade, you are kind to the public, good with animals. what can’t you do” he looks at me “ I can not read” I look down slightly “ there was never a need to at home, but I would always try and just seemed to fail” I sigh as both emperors look at each other exchanging a glance “ there isn’t a need for you to read my love, we shall read to you” Caracallas voice is gentle as he holds me  his hand striking my cheek  “ thank you” I blush as I close my eyes feeling the safety around me “ I will always try my best to be a good wife, I apologise if I fail” I yawn quietly pulling my blankets back over me “ you’ll never fail us my love” geta reassures sweetly 

“ but do not run away again or we may have to clip your wings” he adds his voice more serious as he plays with my hair, I open my eyes again looking at him slightly concerned “ hush now do not worry” Caracalla cooed quietly as he looks down at me Geta kisses the back of my neck his nose resting against my shoulder trying to sooth my anxiety and distract me from his warning “ you’ll be perfect” he mutters his voice vibrating against my skin causing goose bumps to form “ Rome will adapt to your ways, we will create and nurture a new Rome” Caracalla looks at me a grin beaming in his face I blush violently as I burry my face into his shoulder his hands lace into my hair holding me close pulling me away from Geta and for filling his selfish need to have me to himself, as Geta reaches out to touch me again Caracallas eyes fog over with a warning look he holds me possessively my head against his bare chest. I can hear his soothing heart beat ringing through my ears calming me completely with out me even realising the sound soon has me drifting back into a reassuring sleep. 

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tag list

@marsmallow433 @fionaapplelover2010

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (6)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy Bucky, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope, mom plays matchmaker, needy/cuddly bucky

How to cure a grump (5)

How to cure a grump masterlist

Bucky’s hands didn’t wander, but he did. You wake to him snuggled in your back, playing the big spoon. His face is in your neck, and his arms are wrapped tightly around your body.

“You’ve got to be shitting me, Barnes,” you huff loudly, frustrated. He nuzzles your neck and whispers pet names you never wanted to hear leave his lips. “Let go of me. I’m not one of your one-nighters.”

Bucky mutters in his sleep before moving impossibly closer to press himself against you. “Doll,” he whispers lowly. “Hmm…so soft.”

“BARNES!”

He stiffens behind you but doesn’t move. “HUH?” Bucky clears his throat and slowly releases you. He moves to the edge of the bed, grumbling under his breath.

“That is enough! I let you sleep the alcohol off, but you had to get handsy. This is not some rom-com movie. You’re still the asshole firing me before Christmas. Now get out of my bed.”

“You’re loud and grumpy in the morning,” he snickers but hisses soon after. “My head hurts, and I’m still stuck here. The only person I call family ignores me on Christmas, and you’re not nice.”

“You’re a whiny man-child when hungover,” you bite back as you slowly sit up. “What do I have to do to get rid of you?”

Bucky looks over his shoulder, giving you puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t say a word when he slowly gets up to leave your room.

You huff. Now you feel bad—but why? He’s the villain in this story, not you. Bucky fired you, hijacked your Christmas vacation, and cuddled you. How dare he act like the victim!

“Morning, James,” your mother coos while offering coffee to your unwelcome guest. You only shake your head as they easily fall into a conversation. How Bucky enchants people around him will be forever a mystery to you. “What do you want?”

“He’s hungover,” you grumble and claim your favorite seat at the kitchen counter. “Mr. Barnes wanted to have a drink last night and fell into the bottle.”

“James, that’s no reason to be ashamed,” your mother softly says. She pats his hands and offers a warm smile. “Holidays can be hard without your family. I know how you feel.”

Sighing deeply, you try to ignore the ball of fury growing inside of you. Bucky wormed his way into your mother’s heart, and you don’t know how to tell her she won’t see him again after this Christmas.

“Munchkin, stop making that face,” your mother tuts. “I know it’s not nice if your man gets drunk, but he had a moment of weakness last night.”

“A moment of weakness. Right,” you sniff and look at the cup of tea your mother offers to you. “We all have these moments.” Before you can say something wrong, you take a sip of your tea. “Let’s hope there will be no more of these moments.”

“But you liked it, cuddle bug,” Bucky dares to step behind you to wrap his arms around you. You have to admit, he plays his role well. “I get all needy when drunk, and you love to take care of me.”

“You two,” your mother sniffles. “Oh my, you are like my Y/F/N and me when we first met. You’re too sweet to handle.”

“Mom.” You make a face. Bucky still hasn’t let go of you, and your mother is all too happy to see him with you. “What are your plans for today?”

“It’s time to unpack the gifts,” she smiles, and you can’t help but smile back. She’s so happy having you and Bucky at home. You don’t have the heart to disappoint her by revealing the truth. “But first—” she smirks, we will eat our breakfast.”

“Mom, that’s too much,” you sniffle as you look at the thoughtful gift. “I told you to not waste so much money on me.”

“I know you wanted the (the gift you wanted) for years. Because you didn’t buy it for yourself, I got it for you.”

Bucky watches you hug each other. Your mother whispers something in your ear, and you choke on unshed tears. He assumes it must have something to do with your father.

It takes a few moments before you can part. You wipe your eyes and kiss your mother’s cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, munchkin,” your mother sniffles and points at the gifts under the tree. “Oh, I got something for you too, James. I don’t know you well, but I hope you’ll like it.”

“Mrs. Y/L/N, you shouldn’t have—” Bucky swallows thickly when you grab a gift and push it into his arms. You glare at him, silently telling him to not hurt your mother. “That’s very kind of you.”

“You’re my munchkin’s special one,” your mother replies with a wink. “It’s my pleasure to get you a gift.”

Bucky nods as you tell him to open the gift. He rips it open, laughing as a scarf, a pair of warm socks, and hand gloves fall out of the wrapping paper.

“You’re stuck here for a while, and I thought you’d need it.” Bucky picks up his gifts. He smiles because someone he barely knows made him a thoughtful gift.

“Thank you, these are great,” his voice sounds odd when you look at him. “I got nothing for you. I-I…” He stammers and nervously looks at you. “I came here unprepared and got nothing for you.”

“Jamie, that’s alright,” Bucky gasps when your mother wraps him in a hug. He’s not used to people being kind to him. “You’re part of the family now. That’s the best gift.”

He looks at you for help, furrowing his brows as your mother pats his back.

“We are huggers in this family,” you awkwardly reply as Bucky hugs your mother back. “You should get used to it.”

“Oh, I got an idea!” Your mother suddenly says. She smirks while looking at you. “While I take care of dinner, you and Y/N can go to town. Y/N loves ice skating.”

“MOM!” You groan. “Please. I don’t think Bucky wants to go figure skating with me. It’s cold, and he’s not very…”

“I’d love to,” Bucky hastily says. “Figure skating is great.” He grins, and you swear, he looks like a handsome devil when he says, “Especially with my lovely Y/N.”

You are fuming once again. Bucky played you well, but you will pay him back. He won’t smile any longer if he landed on his ass on the ice for the first time…