#i've barely slept all week

[ssaalexblake]

Had a random brain wave, but do you think one reason people are so weird about the Timeless Child is because people get so weird about adoption, especially adoption narratives that don't fit into some very specific boxes?

You know, I honestly don’t know?

But mostly just because I honestly don’t know the intricate ways people are weird about adoption (in fiction & real life), as far as specialist subject goes, it’s not mine. I only have the broad strokes here. 

Though, from a purely story formation way, this plot does Not fit into any of the adoption trope boxes that I know of, yeah. Admittedly, it is easier to buck trends when Sci-Fi is involved, but I don’t think i’ve seen anything like this sequence of events played out anywhere else before and I watch too much sci-fi.  

I think maybe the evil stepmother archetype is something people are used to, which isn’t Exactly what Tecteun is but close enough, and that it’s a narrative people are used to seeing play out in a way where the poor kid Escapes, but this story didn’t provide that neat of a box for this child. The kid did not escape, the child was used and abused until the evil stepmother was done with them and moved onto better things, and they erased their memories and dumped them in an orphanage, never bothering to look them up again. Well, not until The End Of Days anyway (that they orchestrated). That’s not exactly a fairy tale ending... Brothers grimm maybe! 

Hm, upon further thought, I don’t think people are being (that) weird about the adoption aspect (or, no moreso than usual. I think there’s some deifying of the scared crying kid on a barn as some kind of superior and not difficult to swallow orphan narrative. loneliness can be cured easily, as can fear, it’s not too Messy. You don’t have to think about anything too difficult), but I DO think they’re being really weird about the idea of a neglectful and abusive parent, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, because people are Always weird about abuse stories. 

I only say not so much about the adoption thing because I Mostly consider the adoption aspect of this story as The Doctor, not the child. Admittedly this is personal interpretation, but the leaning on openly and frequently calling this group of companions The Fam. That when they get their first real conversation 13 says she doesn’t Have a family anymore, and these three people who heard this then happily welcome her into theirs (they could easily have been angry, and they weren’t, they were kind). 

Graham sees her as a peer, treats her equally and with friendship, she honestly Has to have stayed in his house in the 2 weeks we don’t see in wwfte, joining the family in their grief. He obviously has to have noticed the parental relationship she has with Ryan, the Ryan who lets 13 act as a kind of mentor and adult figure to him despite how easy it’d be for him to not let people in like that anymore. Yaz’s first action when 13 finally gets them home is to invite her to have tea with her family, and we know from the helpful baby sister slam that Yaz inviting people around is not a common event.  

A lot of the show, historically, is either the doctor being adopted into weird little families or the doctor adopting themselves a weird little family. That’s not New to the show as a theme. Literally, One kidnaps himself a family and a tv monument was born that exists 60 years later.  As soon as Chibnall mentioned Why he included the adoption angle ofc the asshole contingent came out and said why’d he include something like that in the show because of his own issues!!! missing that the show is literally just this over and over and over again. I don’t know the dude, have honestly spent years not reading his interviews bc i learnt from the past two guys that Nothing can be gained from learning how much of an asshole the showrunner is and decided to remain in clueless bliss (Am bitter that even this was stolen from me now), but did it ever occur to people that a show where a constant theme of found family Might actually be one of the reasons the show appealed to him as somebody who was adopted to start with? Like, he did not make up this theme, and just because the people unable to grasp dirt basic tropes didn’t see it doesn’t mean everybody else didn’t. That is, imo, very much a part of this. Just grasping at any straw possible to have a go at him no matter how idiotic it looks. 

Anyway, I digress, I see Most of the adoption story as 13 herself, rather than the timeless child arc, which I think is more accurately summarised as kidnapping, neglect, child endangerment, *insert unknown species name here* experimentation, forced labour upon threat of death and death of loved ones, in general physical and emotional abuse... I’m sure i’ve forgotten a few, but that’s the gist of it. 

I Know the master uses the term adoption, more than once, but like... The entire point of him in the situation is that he’s wrong even if Technically he’s correct. I mean, he has his valid points where he’s not wrong and because of some things i feel genuinely sorry for him, but he has framed this whole thing in his head as some rescue of the child, he says that tecteun adopts the child instead of abandoning them and therefore rescued them, making this a good action vs bad action situation instead of something nuanced.

 But, as we learn in survivors of the flux, this is Not how 13 views this at all! She’s in active distress that Tecteun Took! her! instead of trying to return her home. She just wanted her to have tried! The Doctor would do anything for a lost and scared child, and yes, sometimes they’ve taken children in, but with the consent of the child (who were all old enough to make their own choices) and when they wanted to leave, the doctor accepts this. 13 Clearly understands the difference between taking somebody in when they have no other options and taking somebody you want to keep for fun without bothering to see if there is a better 3rd option. 

(Admittedly, the master does make a passing comment about tecteun leaving evidence in the matrix as Maybe being an apology of some sort, so he must recognise on some level that Somewhere in this story the doctor is victimised, but there is no specification to exactly What thing on the long list of grievances that he clocked as actually bad.)

But I think, personally, after seeing 13′s distress at Tecteun not even bothering to Try to find the child’s home and just saying finders keepers, I will never see this part of the story as an adoption narrative, i didn’t before to be fair, but now i could never. It is kidnapping. It is imperialism wrapped up in a story about two people. It’s Henrietta Lacks, from a medical perspective. But I would not call -in a non fiction story- a child who was kidnapped and raised by their kidnapper an adoption story even if the kid was treated like a king, so I don’t here. It doesn’t fit my definition. I don’t know what Chibnall intended, but I know what I get from it. If you find a kid you try and send them home, or find somebody who will. Taking them home and trying to raise them is gonna get you arrested. 

I Mostly think the audience is being weird and/or stupid about the abuse angle of this story. I mean, the target audience of the show is tween/teens, but younger kids watch it and everybody knows it and it tends to pull its punches. For an example, If an 8 year old misses that the parade of different regenerations means that Tecteun kills the kid over and over, that’s probably the point. When adults look at that and fail to make the connection that you regenerate by Dying and that this kid has burned through half a dozen bodies in their adolescence and that this doesn’t just Happen by accident, then that’s not the same thing. Like, it is So blatant what happens here, the child is killed repeatedly. There is nothing else more abusive than this repeated murder and yet the blinders are on. This era even went to the trouble of specifying that regeneration is exceptionally painful. It’s not especially difficult to grasp, and Yet. 

In general, I think the show very deftly displayed a deeply abusive dynamic over the course of both TTC and Flux, and the story didn’t fit a box because the poor victim didn’t escape in a traditional way, they were dumped like trash with no remorse, and then put through whatever else the uncaring society did to them without even their own past to ground them. And then. Then. Eventually they do escape of their own power and get away, and once they’re gone they build themselves into a person who wants to do good. They make themselves a hero with the help of their adoptive families. In fact, they’d be nothing but the jerk who ran way still with the morals of those whom had abused them if not for their adoptive families. They’re never perfect, but it’s the trying that matters. What matters is their found families taught them this. 

Honestly, people are weird about adoption narratives. they’re weird about abuse narratives. They’re weird about anti-imperialism narratives. They're weird about stories that go out of the box. That they’re actively Trying to poke holes doesn’t help. That they often make themselves look like idiots who can’t comprehend a children’s show while poking holes is, frankly, at least good for cheap entertainment. 

[dbphantom]

How its been going if I'm being quite honest

[heybaetae]

.

[unverst]

awake, alert, picture perfect posture

[the-cookie-of-doom]

So. First week of my last year of nursing school is officially over. Thoughts? I'm going to die.

I have a 10 hour class day. 2 12 hour clinical days. 2 12 hour work days at the hospital. That leaves me with exactly 2 days a week where I'm free, and one of those will be taken up with 6 hours of exams 1-2 times a month. In this time, I have to somehow relearn all of nursing as it applies to children/pregnancy, and keep my life together, and try very hard not to go insane. For the next 4 months.

But it's fine, I'm fine, everything is fine : )

[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀COCKWARMING ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, x gn reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. unprotected sex. edging. office sex. public sex. sub/power sub reader. no mentions of specific anatomy. vox is in an online meeting for work. touch starved lucifer. val blowing his smoke on you for fun. non proofread because it's six in the fuckin morning and I have not slept a wink. #summary : in which they keep themselves buried deep inside of you while being busied by other stuff. #note : save me, I've been writing nothing but hazbin smut lately. i should really start working on other shows.. alastor's a bit shorter than the others, can't really think of a solid idea for him and I wanted to get this out as soon as possible

ʚ LUCIFER .

lucifer whines when you force him to focus on his unfinished work once again. he has been going back and forth from attempting to thrust into you, but you always found a way to press him down in his place firmly. he had some unfinished work that he left sitting in his office for almost a week now, and it irritated you. that's when you offered to cockwarm him while he worked, get him to finally get his hands on those unfinished works.

being absolutely touch starved, lucifer agreed without hesitation unaware of how miserable and impatient this will make him. his hand remain on his working desk, occasionally scribbling some words and a signature on the paper filled with printed words. he does his best to resist the urge to finally thrust into you, worried that you'd leave him unsatisfied if he doesn't do as he's told.

but there's a limit to how much he can contain himself, especially when he has you sitting on his lap with his cock stuffing you to the brim, when you'd tease him so often by clenching around him or moving your hips ever so slightly. lucifer whines every time, the hand that's placed on your hip squeezing on your flesh desperately.

"can i please.. just finish this up later?" his voice muffled from nuzzling his face into your shoulder, eyes closed shut to focus on the warmth engulfing his throbbing member. you let out a small chuckle, baring your teeth into his neck to draw out those pretty moans of his; his cock leaks pathetically inside of you.

"no can do, luci. you're not going to get whatever you want until you finish up." you pull away and tilt your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto his jaw while giving a quick glance at the papers sprawled across his desk. he's only halfway done with them. "you're doing pretty well, no? you're halfway done."

lucifer groans, annoyed as he picks up the pen from the desk again while reading through the papers. this time, you decide to tease him a little more instead of staying still. you connect your lips with his exposed neck, sucking on the sensitive skin as your hips slowly grind against his. you hear his breath hitch, his knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping you.

your name spills out from his lips breathlessly, following with a whimper that you love so much. you carry on with your actions, dark marks gradually bloom all over his skin like breathtaking flowers. lucifer shifts to lay his forehead on your shoulder, shuddering from pleasure; you tug on his soft hair, firm enough to lift his head up from your shoulder.

"stay focused, luci. remember what's waiting for you to finish your work."

ʚ ALASTOR .

"oh, what a twist!" alastor exclaims with his eyes glued to the book he's reading, chuckling like you're not clenching down on his cock out of desperation. your eyes are teary as you turn to peek at the page he's on, frustration brewing in your chest. upon noticing your reaction, alastor laughs while moving his hand to cup your face, leaning in with a grin. "don't you agree, my dear?"

you groan, parting your lips further enough to drop his thumb into your mouth, biting down on it. alastor mutters a small "fiesty" before buckling up his hips, watching your eyes widen from the sudden pleasure that shoots up your veins. his arm tightens around your waist to stop you from squirming around excessively.

"put.. the fuckin' book down, a-alastor.." your nails dig into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, the back of your other hand hovering over your mouth with a frown on your face. alastor smiles in response, holding the book between the both of you now that there's a gap.

"why, it has only gotten interesting! patience is key, darling."

"it has been almost a whole fucking hour, alast-" your words get cut off by yet another harsh thrust of his hips, an uncontrollable moan slipping off your tongue. a low, barely audible grunt could be heard coming from alastor because of how you're squeezing around him like your life depends on it.

slowly, he places the book down, pushing two digits into your mouth as his sharp nails graze past your gums. your tongue swirls around them, gaze fixated on his that seems to be mocking your desperation. you grind your hips, wanting to feel more of that sensitive spot in you being stimulated by his tip brushing against it. alastor grunts every time you tighten around him, the feeling making his skin jump and his eyes close shut from the pleasure he receives.

you reach for the book to toss it aside, not allowing him any chance to get it back and return to what he was previously putting you through. he laughs at the action before getting cut off by yet another groan, a frown slowly finds its way to spread across his face despite the grin that remains on his lips.

"the book shall wait after all."

ʚ VOX .

the sound of vox's workers and colleagues echoes through his workplace, the source of it coming from the laptop that sits in front of him. he's holding an urgent meeting with them to discuss some things about work, yet you're here obediently sitting on him, cockwarming him. your arms hug his neck tightly, hands grabbing tightly onto his shirt while listening to him speak to the people in call.

you bite down every moan that builds in your throat, not allowing any sound to be heard by anyone but your partner. times when vox isn't discussing important matters, he leans into your ear to whisper praises, thrusting into you, and stops so suddenly when you're close to release.

he grins as you whine at the sudden loss of friction, skin flushed while feeling him draw lazy circles on your hips with his thumbs. he starts speaking again just when you're about to voice your frustration, drawing out a grumble from you. you stay there unattended, glancing at the part where the two of you connect; you're craving release, and you're done waiting.

with a steady pace, you move your own hips while holding onto his shoulders for support. vox's head snaps toward your direction, teeth gritting as he bites back the groans that threaten to leave his lips. he tries to hold you down, but his body betrays him and allows you to carry on with your movements. his head tilts back to lean against the headrest of his chair, the words that his workers speak gradually shifting to a blur in his mind.

"fuck, w-wait," his breath grows heavy, barely managing to keep his eyes open as you fuck yourself on his cock. you're supposed to be cockwarming him, not riding him. he has allowed you to the point of no return, how is he going to carry on with the meeting now? you grab him and connect your lips with his, drinking in his groans like how he does to your moans.

ignoring the calls of his name from the meeting, he pulls you closer by the waist as you grind yourself on him. it wasn't until he started getting annoyed by the meeting that he broke away from the kiss, strings of saliva still connecting your lips while his hand reached out to shut the laptop down. the room falls to a sudden silence, the only sounds that remain are your heavy breathing.

"you're gonna fuck up my company if this carries on," vox snickers before crashing his lips with yours again, hands holding onto your hips to thrust into you without anything holding him back this time.

ʚ VALENTINO .

you still can't process the fact that you're in valentino's studio with his cock buried deep inside of you while people walked around to work on set. valentino takes puffs from the cigarette he holds between his fingers, often ordering and even yelling at people as they rush to obey his commands.

nobody pays any mind to the both of you; in fact, they see it as something normal. after all, they're working for a porn producer, what is there not to be normal? you keep your face stuffed in the fluff of his coat, hands gripping tightly onto his outfit while still trying to adjust to how good he stretches you apart. everyone has just started working, and the set is still being prepared for a new film.

"you're tighter than usual my love, are you that excited to be around everyone?" he teases with a mocking tone, puffing out a wisp of pink smoke onto your flushed face. you lightly shake your head with a whine, the smoke that you inhale causing your vision to spin immediately. humming, valentino lifts your body up with the help of his lower pair of arms before roughly slamming you back down onto his cock. "I doubt that. you've always loved being fucking in public, no? look at you,"

you gasp, body tensing as a moan escapes your throat. you immediately bite down on your lower lip, eyes screwing shut while simultaneously having your body trembling under his hold. you don't want to draw too much attention to yourself, yet the idea alone excites you in an odd way that you never knew it would. noting your reaction, valentino continues repeating the action before stopping promptly, feeding himself with your choked back moans.

"keep looking pretty like that while i work, i'll have a reward waiting for you." you mewl at his words, giving him a weak nod while tugging onto his shirt. he takes another long drag from his cigarette before letting his gaze fall onto the prepared set displayed in front of him, eyes scanning for the stars of the show in the room.

he would moan softly into your ear whenever you clenched around him, teasing you with his mere voice and carrying on with his work. you don't complain, though, considering how you'll be fucked into a moaning mess once he's done with work.

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[corkinavoid]

I'm pretty sure this has been done before (and several times), but brain going brrr, so

DPxDC John Constantine's How To: Ghost Kids

Bruce doesn't even get to say anything when the door to his study opens with a slam against the wall, and before he knows it, he gets an armful of kids. As in, a bouquet of them.

"I'm so done," John Constantine breathes out, raspy and exhausted, looking like a trainwreck incarnate. Granted, the man always looked like one, but right now, the effect has been greatly worsened. The dark circles under John's eyes are, in fact, black, and it looks like he hasn't shaved in at least a week.

Bruce looks down to the small gaggle of children in his lap that he caught in his hands by sheer reflex.

All three of them look up at him with identical, sky blue eyes. They could be twins if it was not for their obviously different ages - the girl looks no older than three, while the boys are probably around five and six.

The older boy scrunches his nose. The girl pouts, but it looks directed at Constantine rather than at him.

Bruce looks back to John, a silent question in his eyes.

"They are- Well, not mine, for starters," the man begins, placing his hands on the table right over the sheets and documents, and leans on it, hanging his head down. Then, he raises one hand up and waves it in the air, "Not yours either, thank the Gods for that." He takes a deep breath.

Bruce's eyebrows raise all the way up to his hairline. The girl starts trying to wiggle out of his hands, but the middle boy holds her back, keeping her in Bruce's lap. She pouts harder.

"And you've brought them here why?" Bruce breaks the stretched out silence, gently repositioning the kids into a more comfortable hold. John raises his head up at him, and the magician's eyes look straight up pleading.

"You're the only person I know of who is, one, a parent, two, acquainted with supernatural, three, a man of great patience, and four, owes me a favor." Constantine lists off reasons that don't really make sense all together, especially regarding kids. Then he thinks for a moment and adds, "Five, owes a shitton of liquor."

"John, what-"

"Listen, I've been dealing with them for a week, I'm at my limit," Constantine interrupts him, desperate and close to whining, "I haven't slept in more than three consecutive hours for days. I don't remember the last time I ate. Or took a shower."

Yes, Bruce can see that. Or, rather, smell it. But that answers none of his questions as to who, why, and how.

"I would kill for a bath," John admits, like it's some sort of a secret. The middle boy opens his mouth, but Constantine points an accusing finger at him, "No, the puddle of melted ghost ice does not count for a bath. And don't come at me with your death puns."

The child rolls his eyes but closes his mouth back and slumps. Bruce resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, but only because he is holding three kids. His hands are full, quite literally.

"John, I need you to explain," he asks, somewhere between a demand and a careful inquiry. Because, really, the man looks on the brink of losing his sanity, that much is evident. Bruce might not like the man, but he can at least partially sympathize with dealing with kids.

His bare minimum of sympathy - and isn't it a bizarre thought, emotionally sympathizing with John Constantine of all people - does not ease his growing worry and irritation. The girl starts trying to get out of his hold again.

John takes a very deep breath, holds it, and then-

"I stole them," he says, looking Bruce dead in the eye, with a sense of resigned, if a bit unhinged, determination. And, before Bruce is able to ask literally anything else, he keeps going, "Their parents are shit, a branch of government is out for their guts - as in, literal guts - there was- there is a backdoor to the afterlife in their basement, and also they are dead and because of some Realms fuckery and their spiritual granddad being a huge pain in the ass, they are all wrong ages."

Bruce blinks. Then blinks again. Processing that sentence turns out to be a lot harder than he estimated.

The oldest kid in his lap gives John a middle finger, nearly sneering. The girl starts snickering, somehow making it soundless.

"Oh, and they are under a silence charm because if I hear one more references to fucking Ghostbusters I will shoot myself," Constantine finishes matter-of-factly.

Distantly, Bruce wonders if John can make that spell into some sort of an amulet. God knows, Dick really needs one sometimes. Steph does, too. And Jason. Actually, all of them need one.

He looks over the kids again. They don't seem scared or unsettled, neither by the fact they are sitting in a lap of a stranger nor by Constantine's bullet point version of a summary to their lives. They mostly just look annoyed and grumpy, and a bit embarrassed in case of the middle boy.

Bruce sighs and decides to start somewhere.

"Do they have names?"

[part 2 ->]

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Dirty Laundry

Summary: Life with two toddlers has taken a toll on your sex life for the past few weeks, but after a surprisingly calm morning, you and Javi find a creative solution to solve your problem.

Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also, who am I to say?) vaginal fingering, paise kink, a breeding kink so dangerous that you may get pregnant just from reading, creampie, cum play, a loud washer and dryer, no actual laundry accomplished, domestic girl dad Javi, you'll always be famous

A/N: idk who unlocked my cell while I was ovulating, but once again I have escaped, and once again, we're makin' babies. I think I've convinced myself I don't know how to write anything else, and for that, I am genuinely sorry. If wanting to give Javier Peña a football team worth of kids is a crime, then lock me up and throw away the goddamn key 🤠

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

For as much as you loved your daughters, it was safe to say that for the past two weeks, your pair of rambunctious toddlers had been doing very little for your sex life. 

Your 4 year old Lucy had been going through a phase of having nightmares every night, and somehow ending up in you and Javi’s bed no matter what you tried. That, combined with trying to potty train your 2 year old, Elliot, (who was nowhere close to being the breeze her older sister it was when it came to the matter), on top of preschool, work, and life in general, you and Javi had barely gotten so much as a kiss in, let alone some quality time together. 

It had been your hope to start trying for baby number three, but after 2 months of negative pregnancy tests and another month of complete chaos, despite your best intentions, “trying” had very much taken a backseat in your mental to-do list.  

But this morning when you woke up, it was almost as if a wave of calm had washed over your house to reset the state of disarray you had been in the past few weeks- Both girls had slept through the night in their own beds, had woken up in good spirits, Elliot asked to use the bathroom multiple times, and both had been happy to play in the living room together quietly as you worked on catching up on some much needed laundry. 

So calm, in fact, that Javi was almost worried when he came downstairs for work to hear near silence, apart from the occasional giggles from the girls as they arranged their Fisher Price Little People in their Play Barn and the washer running in the background. 

“Hi Daddy!” Lucy cooed, toddling over to her dad, wrapping her arms around his waist as Elliot quickly followed behind, perching on his leg like a koala. 

“Buenos días, niñas. (Good morning, girls).” Javi grinned, squatting down to kiss the wild, sleepy curls of his daughters’ heads, still slightly confused by the tranquil state of the house. “Where’s Momma?” 

“Washing stinky socks.” Lucy giggled, pinching her nose and scrunching her face, pretending to have smelled something bad. 

“Yeah, stinky socks.” Elliot echoed, sticking out her tongue. 

“Oh yeah? Is it because my pollitas (little chickens) have stinky, smelly feet?” Javi teased, wrapping his arms around the girls, pulling them close to his chest as he tickled their sides, the three erupting in laughter and giggles. 

“What’s goin’ on out here, huh?” You grinned, stepping out of the laundry room with your arms playfully crossed against your chest to see your husband and daughters in a tickle tackle pile on the living room floor. 

“Daddy said we have stinky feet! Daddy’s got stinky feet, not me and Elliot.” Lucy protested. 

“I think you and Daddy both have stinky feet, Lucy Lu, and your dirty laundry proves it.” You smiled, watching Javi give one last big kiss to each of the girls before pushing up off the floor with a grunt, making his way over to you. “Good morning, Mr. Stinky Feet.” 

“Hey, c’mon now. I can’t have you all gangin’ up on me.” Javi pouted through his smirk, wrapping his arm around your waist as his lips softly met yours, his words sweet and low as they danced against your skin. “Good morning, Hermosa.” 

His kiss lingered just long enough to send butterflies swirling through your stomach, biting down on your lip to try and keep your heart beating any faster than it already was. You stood there for another moment, eyes locking with his as the grip around your waist tightened just subtly enough to hint his mind was in the same place as yours. 

You were finding a way to finally have sex this morning. 

You could feel the arousal already beginning to pool in your core, swallowing hard as Javi tilted his head and raised his eyebrows at you while his hand slid further down your waist towards your ass, trying to devise a plan for the two of you to be alone long enough to do what you had both been so desperately craving these past few weeks. 

As you turned your head back over your shoulder in search of ideas, a devilish grin spread across your face, looking back to Javi to gently tug on the maroon tie dangling from his neck, twisting the end through your fingers. 

“I think I really need help with the laundry before you leave for work.” You mewled, leaning in to press another kiss to his plush lips, followed by another on his cheek and neck, Javi letting a soft groan rumble in his chest. 

“Oh Fuck, baby. What do we do about the girls?” He asked quietly, trying his best to keep his composure as the dark brown of his eyes grew hungrier with want. 

“Snack and a movie? There’s already a baby monitor out in the living room, and if we put on “The Little Mermaid”, it should buy us enough time.” You nodded in reassurance of your own idea, already growing antsy with anticipation. 

“God, I love you.” Javi smirked, giving you one more kiss and a firm squeeze of your ass before breaking away towards the kitchen so you could execute your plan. 

“Hey girls?” you called, making your way towards the living room where they were back to playing, “Daddy needs to help Mommy with some, um- laundry. So if we put on “The Little Mermaid”, can you show us what big girls you are and let you watch the movie all by yourselves?” You asked, doing your best to play up your request. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” Elliot squealed, clapping and stomping her feet. “Wittle Mermaid!” 

“Okay, go get your blankets and sit on the couch and Daddy’s gonna bring you a snack to watch the movie with.” 

“Yay! Movie time, movie time!” Lucy shrieked as the girls ran to go grab their things, plopping themselves on to the respective corners of the couch. While you searched for the VHS in the entertainment center, Javi returned from the kitchen with two much bigger than needed bowls of Teddy Grahams, turning on the TV as you pushed the tape into the receiver and pressed play. 

With the bright blue Disney logo appearing across the screen and your daughters both happily snuggled with their snacks on the sofa, you and Javi gave each other the silent nod of approval, slowly backing away towards the laundry room while the girls sat in content and entranced silence. 

After one last peek, you carefully closed and locked the laundry room door behind you, quickly followed by turning on both the washing machine and the dryer, trying to do yourself any favors you could by drowning out any suspicious sounds.  

“Good?” Javi asked once more for reassurance, feeling his slacks get tighter and tighter around his crotch by the second as he waited for your response. 

Without a single word, your lips were crashing into his, a messy dance of tongues and teeth ensuing between you as your bodies bumped against the laundry room counter, limbs tangled together in a frantic race to remove clothes. 

“Fuck, I missed you. Missed this.” Javi groaned, helping you slide your top over your head and unclip your bra as he nipped at your neck, pushing your back against the dryer and caging your body under him. 

“I know, baby, me t-too.” You whimpered, reaching out to undo Javi’s belt buckle, shoving his pants down to his thighs, followed by his boxers, freeing his cock as it slapped against the dark hairs on the happy trail of his stomach. “Missed having your big dick inside me.” 

“Fuck.” Javi swore under his breath as you reached out to stroke him, swiping your thumb over his weeping tip to rub the precum up and down his shaft as he shoved your the waistband of your pants and underwear down your hips just far enough to let them fall to the floor around your ankles. 

As much as you both desperately wanted to take your time, worshiping every inch of each other’s bodies until you had nothing left to give, you knew time was not on your side. After a few more strokes, you pulled back, letting Javi snake his hand against your body to slide between your legs, the slightest graze of his fingertips already making you shutter with need. 

At this point, even after the few weeks it had been without Javi inside you, you were wet enough that you could have taken him without any warm up, your core dripping with your arousal to the point it was smearing the inside of your thighs with its shiny coating. But even with your cunt soaking wet and time working against you, Javi couldn’t help but drag his fingers through your folds, curling to push up into your tight hole and prod against your g-spot. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so wet. This all for me, Momma? Missed me fillin’ you up with my cock? Missed me fucking you full of my cum, huh baby?” Javi growled, his words shooting straight to your cunt, making you clamp down tighter around his fingers and your clit throb with intensity.  

It had been a minute since baby making had been at the forefront of your mind, but his question set off something animalistic in the both of you, knowing that right now could give you a chance at baby number three that you had been wishing for. 

“Y-yes, Javi, fuck- want you to fill me up, baby. Want you to fill me up until you fuck a baby into me.” 

It was then that Javi couldn’t have been more thankful that you had turned on the washer and dryer to try and drown out your noise, because the groan he let escape from his parted lips was much louder than he intended. 

But then again, there were few things in this world that turned him on more than you begging him to knock you up, so what did he expect? 

Scooping his arms under your thighs, Javi hoisted you on top of the dryer, your ass hitting the cold, vibrating metal with a thud as your lips collided again with desperate ferocity, muffled moans escaping from your mouths. 

“Dirty fuckin’ girl. Want me to knock you up again, Momma? Give you another baby?” Javi smirked, reaching to line his cock up with your entrance, swiping his tip through your folds to collect your slick and coat it along his length before he pushed inside you, sinking deeper and deeper until he bottomed out, hips flush with yours. 

Words couldn’t describe how much you had missed the sweet stretch and sting of Javi’s fullness, each inch of him feeling better than the last, sobbing out as his tip kissed your cervix, all inhibitions of self-composure completely tossed out the window. Still sunk deep in your cunt, Javi’s hand shot over your mouth, stifling your cries in his palm. 

“Shhhhhh, I know, Osita. You gotta keep quiet though, baby.” 

You nodded frantically in compliance, Javi’s hand dropping to grip around your waist as you tried to catch your breath. “M-move, Javi, please.” Your whimpering request borderlining pathetic with how badly you needed him. 

“You promise you’re gonna be a good girl and keep quiet?” 

“Mhmmmm. I promise, baby, please.” 

With that, Javi’s hips began to snap, dragging his cock in and out of you at a dangerous pace, coating the walls with the sounds of the wet sounds of your cunt and slapping skin, muffled by the washer and dryer. 

“Oh my God, Javi. Fuck. Fuck, you feel so good.” You whined, locking your legs behind the small of Javi’s back, keeping him as close to you as possible as he fucked in and out of you. You draped your arms around his shoulders, fingers burying themselves in the dark curls at the nape of his neck. 

The closeness had the hairs at the base of his cock rubbing deliciously against your clit, adding to the tension beginning to build at the base of your spine, both of you knowing it wouldn’t take long to get where you needed to go after weeks without being able to have each other like this. 

Javi could feel it too, his balls beginning to tense with each pump, using every ounce of self control to keep from preemptively spilling into you, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, holding on to you like his life depended on it. 

“Jesus, Fuck- Fuck, I missed this tight little pussy so much. Gonna cum so deep inside you. So deep it’s gotta fucking take. God, you’re so fucking sexy when you’re pregnant. I swear I’ll give you as many babies as you want, Hermosa.” Javi babbled, biting down on his lip as he pounded into you, reaching one of his hands down to circle at your wet, puffy clit, aching to be relieved from all the built up tension. 

At this point, you were so drunk on pleasure that you could barely remember your own name, feeling your orgasm begin to build through every inch of your body in a way that had you seeing stars, digging your fingernails into Javi’s shoulders and burying your face in the crook of his neck to keep from crying out his name, forcing yourself to whisper incoherent sweet nothings against his skin. 

“P-please, Javi. F-fill me up. Oh shit- Fuck, baby, I’m so close.” 

Javi’s thrusts became sloppier and more erratic, fingers rubbing your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to coax your orgasm out of you before he followed suit, gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow in intense concentration. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum all over me. Soak my fucking cock before I fuck you full of me and knock you up. C’mon, Momma.” 

Suddenly, your orgasm crashed through you, lighting your body up like a goddamn Christmas tree, every inch of your body radiating with bliss as you clamped down around Javi’s cock, biting down on his shoulder as you came to try and stifle your cries. 

Javi was only moments behind you, letting out a low grunt with the final sutter of his hips as he came, coating your walls with his warm spend, fucking it into with every ounce he had left until he had milked himself dry. 

Your bodies collapsed into each other, rising and falling in sync with heavy breaths like you had just finished the last mile of a marathon and collapsed at the finish line, damp and sticky with your sweat. 

As much as Javi didn’t want to pull out, he could feel his cock beginning to soften and the mixture of your spend leaking from your hole. Refusing to let a drop go to waste, he pulled out of you, a groan rumbling low in his chest as he wrapped his hand around his length, dragging his tip up through your folds and collecting the cum that had been dripping out. Taking the wet mess he had gathered with his cock, he pushed himself back into you, slowly thrusting in and out of you, a devilish smirk spreading across his face at the absolutely obscene sound coming from between your legs. 

“Promise me,” Javi gulped between pants, finally pulling out of you again, “Promise we never go this long without having sex again. Holy Fuck.” 

“Promise.” You couldn’t help but giggle in agreement, coming down from your blissed out high. “God, that was the longest two weeks ever. Don’t know why we didn’t think of this sooner.” 

“Because we’ve been sleep deprived and exhausted, and our little monstros (monsters) have been giving us a run for our money.” Javi chuckled, reaching behind you to grab a towel from the cabinet above the dryer, quickly rinsing it in the sink before wiping you up and helping you find all of your clothes. 

“Are we crazy for wanting another one?” You asked, looking down at your stomach, thinking about the ramifications of what you had just done. 

“Maybe. But you drive me so fucking crazy, we may end up with 10 before you know it.” 

“Javi! Dear lord, we are not having 10 kids, you psycho.” You laughed, playfully slapping your husband on the shoulder. 

“Stop being so hot and I’ll stop knockin’ you up.” Javi smirked, raising his eyebrows at you as you rolled your eyes at him knowing damn well you’d have a whole army of his kids if he really wanted. 

“You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that. Alright, you need to get your ass to work and I need to feed the gremlins before I drop Lucy off at preschool. Let’s go, cowboy.” You grinned, playfully smacking Javi on the ass, giving him a quick kiss as you made your way towards the door. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Osita. I gotta remember to call my dad on the way into work.” 

“Call your dad? Why?” 

“To see if Abuelo can take the girls this weekend so you and I can catch up on a lot of laundry.” 

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @purpleprincess75 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

@purpleprincess75

[gilverrwrites]

Man, I need something with Jason's big hands, so big that one hand can cup your entire sex...

He will smack your clit, cup your sex, you'll grind on it and he will do something while cupping your lady bits.

I can live off of your body heat

Jason Todd/Reader, 2.4K

AN: I've actually had mutiple req for Jason and/or Dick slapping and pinching the readers clit which is like so specific, but I get it. Like I feel yall so much. I know Jay being a giant is fanon thing, but goddamn my 5'4 ass wants to be crushed by his hands so bad. CWs: Mentions of Jay's scars, swearing, size difference, Dom!Jay, teasing, Jay being really rough, nipple play, clit pinching, clit slapping. Petnames: Baby, babe, babygirl, good girl, Name-calling: Filthy girl, bitch, slut. Recommended listening: Body Heat - Kate Nash

There’s a scar on his chest. Actually, there are many scars on his chest. However, there’s one in particular that stands out; a long taut piece of skin that stretches from his left shoulder blade, right down to his sternum. Its pale sheen stands out against his tan skin and begs you to trail a finger along it.

Despite the temptation, you don’t.

Jason hasn’t slept this well in weeks so you daren't risk waking him yet. Instead, you watch the gentle rise and fall of his torso under the mellow light of the morning sun until the need to move is too great.

Your feet have barely touched the ground when a pair of sturdy arms close around you, enveloping you in the warmth of the very body you’d just been admiring and pulling you back into the bed. Or more, pulling you on top of his body, primarily by his choice, partially because there isn’t enough room for you both to lay without some overlap. Every time you mention buying a larger bed, Jason vetoes it; says he likes the close proximity. That feeling your body against his helps him to relax and you can’t really argue with that sentiment.

“Where’d you think you’re going?” He asks from the spot in the crook of your neck he loves to nuzzle into. He peppers the side of your neck with sleepy half-kisses.

It would be endearing, were his hands not already under the oversized Red Hood tee you’d stolen from him to sleep in.

“Oh, I don’t know.” You hum, hands wrapping around his wrists, purely for additional skin-on-skin contact. You couldn’t stop him from ghosting his calloused fingertips up your body if you wanted to. It’s strange, and arousing to think that he can, and has trapped both of your wrists in with just one hand.

“You don't know?” He’s rousing properly now, amused by your answer.

“Probably just to shower, make a coffee, maybe read a book until you wake up.”

“I’m awake now.” He reminds you, rolling his hips to emphasise his double entendre. The heat of his mourning wood grinds against your backside, and at the same time, one of his wandering hands finally settles on a target. He cups the underside of your breast, and you can’t help sucking in a breath as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Already so brutal, despite the slow, sensual way he’s been exploring until now.

You sigh in relief when he lets go, allowing just enough time for the blood to rush back before he clamps down again, this time in a twisting motion that has your hands shooting up into his hair. “Jay!”

He seems unaffected by your attack on his scalp, chuckling into the tender spot behind your ear, and causing a chill to run down your spine. “Yeah, baby?”

“You should be asleep.” You’d intended to deadpan for comedic effect, but it comes out in short, strained breaths that only serve to make you sound needy as hell.

It’s at this point you hear a snapping sound, followed by the light sting of your underwear’s elastic waist snapping against your skin, drawing your attention downwards just in time to feel Jason cupping your entire sex in just one of his hands. All the while he never stops the assault on your now raw tits.

“Do you want me to stop?” He questions. At the same time, he palms your folds through the fabric of your underwear, pressing the ball of it against your increasingly aching clit.

“Feels nice.” You sigh, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, allowing him further access to the sensitive skin of your neck which he eagerly accepts, honing in to suck and nibble, sloppily leaving marks in his wake. You don’t want to back down, but God, you do not want him to stop.

“Come on baby, I need a real answer. Do you want me to go back to sleep?” He eventually circles back, lips barely leaving your flesh as he speaks. Distracting you from the erotic sting of your nipples and the heat between your legs as his rugged fingers push all the right buttons. “Or do you want me to keep playing with your cute little pussy?”

“Fuck, Jay please- “ You’re ready to give in but as you speak he hooks two fingers under the crotch of your underwear, and the resulting, embarrassingly wet squelch that sounds out as he presses them between your folds has you hissing.

“Please what?” He goads, now upping the pressure. He’s doing it on purpose, cause he’s a fucking tease. “Please stop?”

“No! Please don’t stop touching my cunt!”

“Your cunt? You’re fucking filthy, girl. You know that?” He plants a quick, hard kiss on your cheek and, as if you weigh nothing, lifts you by your pussy, repositioning you for his own ease until your legs are stretched wide, his own wedged in between to keep you in place. The speed at which he moves is enough to give you whiplash. You barely have enough time to gasp at the retraction of his hands before they’re on you again, settling in new positions. With one hand he completely pulls aside your panties, exposing your hot, soaked folds to the tepid air. The other pulls your tee over your head before cupping the back of your head, forcing your gaze downwards. “Don’t move. I want you to watch everything I do to you. Can you do that for me, baby”

Shit. You think your heart might beat out of your chest. All this vehement energy so early in the morning. “Yes, Jay!”

Immediately contradicting yourself, you turn your head to admire his handsome profile. The determined squint of his eyes, the bed head, the morning stubble, you really lucked out with him you think as you lean closer to kiss his cheek. Before you can make contact Jay's grip tightens on the back of your head, sharply turning you back to watch as he dips two long fingers between your slit. Your clit practically twitches at the sight of them; long enough to span from top to entrance in excess.

You try your hardest to watch as he repeatedly strokes your lips in short, lazy motions but it’s a challenge not to close your eyes and get lost in the moment. It’s even harder not to throw your head back and scream when he suddenly sinks his fingers around your clit and starts pinching, it. Tightly rolling the sensitive bud between two curled fingers.

“Shit, Jay.” You pant through gritted teeth. “That hurts so good.”

Just like with your nipples, what feels even better is the rapid return of blood flow when he releases it. He repeats the process twice over, laughing every time you flinch or whine. Whispering in your ear about how you’re his “good girl”, how “you can take it” every time you dig your nails into his arm in an attempt to relieve the pain.

“Help me out here babe. Spread your pussy out for me.” He instructs, playfully gasping into your ear when you pull back your lips to reveal your now dark and swollen core. You’re too turned on to care about the sight of it. Happy to expose yourself, certain that the moment he starts kneading you with care, you’ll cum in seconds.

Jason must be thinking the same as he dips one finger into your entrance, just enough to coat it with your arousal before returning to your puffy clit to rub around it in circles. Even at twice the size, your clit is smaller than the tip of his finger.

“Ohh, I’m gonna cum soon.” Before you’ve even finished your sentence Jay retracts his hand, ripping a distraught weep from you in the process. You’ve been here a hundred times before, splayed out for him, gasping, and begging for his touch, but the red-hot shame at your flagrant desperation never eases. “What the fuck, dude!?”

“Dude?” Without warning, Jay comes back down. Hard. Your whole body shakes under the intensity of the vicious slap he delivers to your clit. “Who the fuck are you calling dude?”

He doesn’t give you enough time to answer before he smacks your open folds again. Flipping the switch in your body from heady to adrenaline-filled arousal.

“Say my name.” He barks as he dispenses a third slap.

“Jay!” You don’t have it in you to say his full name, but it seems to satisfy.

“Say it louder.” His words are punctuated by the lewd echo of sharp, stinging strikes. “I want the neighbours to hear what a dirty fucking slut you are. Want them to know who you belong to.”   

“Jason. You Jason!” You close your eyes and throw your head back, crying with everything you can muster, not caring how raunchy or pathetic you sound. Ignoring the pain of your own nails digging into your flesh. “Jason. I’m yours, Jason.”

“That's better.” He growls. Finally, his arm falls slack. With no friction from your dripping, wanting walls, Jason glides two fingers into your entrance and you tremble, your whole body tingling, ecstatic to finally feel him inside you. It’s just two fingers, two impressively strong, thick fingers that make you feel so full. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

Abashed by his sudden gentleness you open your eyes once more, positioning yourself to look at him as best you can. He’s one to talk. You’re always telling him he could be a model if he decided to quit being a part-time crime lord, part-time crime fighter.  

You’re unable to concentrate on him for long, however, as he starts pumping in and out of you in torturously slow thrusts. After all the excitement, it quietens your mind and eases your muscles. For the first time since he’d repositioned your bodies, you notice the pressure of his cock, pulsing against your lower back. The rigged hardness of it makes you feel fuzzy and content at his equal levels of arousal.

You stay like that for a few minutes, simply enjoying the calm as Jason gently massages your insides until it’s not enough. You need more, your body yearns, your core practically twitching for his touch on your clit again. An orgasm is approaching steadily, but you’ll get nowhere without it.

The heel of his hand is so close, so sturdy, you don’t even think about what you’re doing, you just start undulating your hips, rutting up against him in unstable motions. He doesn’t stop you; in fact he curls his fingers and brings his palm down closer, letting you use him to chase your orgasm.

“That's it, baby. Hump me like a bitch in heat.” He coos so softly in your ear that it would set your pulse racing if it wasn’t already running at a mile a minute. “Remember I'm the only who does this for you, the only one who can make you feel so full and cock drunk on just my hands.”

He's right, he's so fucking right.

“Keep that up, I might just cum too.”

“Fuck me.” You breathe, affected both by his words and the reminder of his throbbing dick squeezed between your bodies.

“Not until you cum on my fingers.” He’s only half joking. “Can you do that for me baby, cum all over my finger like a good little slut?”

Fuck yes, you can. You want to say, but all your energy is focused on riding his hand, fucking yourself on his brawny fingers, and gyrating against his palm like it's your job. His groans and rasps become a motivational mantra as you keep bucking your hips.

“You’re nearly there.” He comments, able to feel your walls tightening around his digits, convulsing uncontrollably as it hits you. It takes all your strength to ride it out; to keep going as you topple over the edge but fuck it’s worth it for the full extent of your release. “That it babygirl, cum for me baby, fucking soak me.”

Worth it for the explicit sound of your wet cum streaming against Jason’s hands, for the rush of ecstasy that bleeds through your body, and especially for the unexpected heat that spreads across your lower back in spaced-out intervals; Jason's own ejaculation seeping through his boxers and dispersing on your skin.         

Simultaneously, you both grow limp, breathing in time with each other until the rapid movements of your chests begin to ebb back to a steady pace.

“You were so good for me, I’m so proud of you.” Jason praises as he rolls your bodies onto their sides, never releasing you in the process, but allowing him a better ability to press a smattering of kisses to the side of your head, lingering along your jawline. You're grateful for his sweet words, but still too fucked-out to speak, but you coo when he lifts a hand to run his thumb along your neck, presumably checking out his earlier handy work. You arch to get a better look at him, and given the subtle, but smug smile on his face, you’re certain he’s left quite the mark.   

“Let me guess.” You find your voice. “It’s not just the neighbours who’ll know who I belong to?”

“Hmmmm.” He tilts his head and puckers his lips in mock consideration. “I think you should donate all your scarf.”

“Jay!” You punch his shoulder, and he has enough decency to play along, briefly leaning back as though you could even make a dent on his towering frame. “Is it really bad?”

“No. No no no.” He’s lying through his teeth, snickering as he leans in to crush your lips with his own. His skin is slick with sweat you realise when you reach up to gently grasp his other shoulder and guide him closer to you. His morning breath is frankly kind of gross, but yours probably is too. Nevertheless, it’s a price you’re willing to pay for his affection.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks when he pulls back from your mouth, continuing to press kisses down your neck, along your collar, and slinking closer to your chest with each brush. He asks some variation of this same question everytime you fuck. Letting you direct how much you can take from him in one go or what kind of aftercare you need.

“I don’t know.” You hum, imitating your earlier indecision, as you stretch against the mattress. “Shower, coffee, and a book still sounds good to me.”

“Sounds very good. Mind if I join?” He’s not actually asking, that much is evident as he lifts you in his arms and cradles you against his chest as he stands. You’ll both be grateful to get your sticky, cum soaked underwear off. You’ll be even more grateful for the chance to lather and massage your boyfriend up in soapy bubbles, to really get your fingers on those pretty scars that call to you. Maybe you can convince him to take a nap later when you’re curled up on the couch, reading together.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Jay.”

[cjjohansson]

i don't want to feel anyone but you.

natasha romanoff x reader - something happens on a mission that leaves natasha ignoring you for a month, until she finds out what actually happened. -- reader has a penis. angst. fluff. smut.

18+!!!!! - masterlist ♡

“It’s been weeks Y/n…what the hell happened on that mission?” Bucky nudges you as you stay staring at the ceiling laying down in my bed. It’s weird for you to be in this bed, in this room. It’s so bare compared to what your room is like with Natasha. You haven’t stepped foot in this room in over 2 years. 

“Y/n?” Bucky nudges you yet again, your head turning to face him, his concern written all over his face. 

“You were both undercover, you both said the mission went fine and got what you needed but since then you’ve slept in this room. The cameras on the jet have been wiped from you on the way back. You both refuse to be in the same room as each other. Nevermind the fact no one even sees your face anymore and Natasha is holed up in the gym for the majority of the day…” 

“Buck…please, just, please. Leave this alone.” You need time and space. You haven’t even allowed yourself time to think about what happened. 

“Ok. Ok, I won’t. But you know where I am if you need me.” Bucky stands up to leave and you let him walk away with no care in the world. 

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

It’s 2:52am, well that is what it says on the tiny clock in the corner of the kitchen. You swing the fridge open, hoping someone left you some leftover pizza. 

Just as you're about to grab the box, the door opens slowly. Your head turns to face the other person who is also up at this hour but you're left stock still when your eyes lock with Natashas. 

It’s been 4 weeks since your mission. 3 weeks of not seeing her face at all even though you live in the same building. 

You close the fridge door, suddenly not hungry. You keep your eyes locked on hers. She hasn’t moved either. You're sure you could cut the tension with a knife. 

“Tash-”

“Please don’t.” Natasha breaks eye contact then. Her body folding into itself right in front of your eyes. It hurts you to see her like this. 

“If you just let me-” You try again to just talk but she won’t let you.

“Her hands were all over you Y/n. And you didn't push her away. I was on the other side of the room, trying to do OUR job. While you stood there and let some slut put her hands all over you!” Frustration fills your whole body when she speaks, that isn't what happened. You spent the whole journey back from the mission arguing but she wasn't letting any of it happen. 

“That is not what happened and you know it! People were already staring at me and her. She was the target's sister. I would never cheat on you, ever.”

“YOU LET HER TOUCH YOU!” 

“For god sake Natasha! Do you know how many times i have had to watch you go on fucking honey pot missions and I've stood there silently while random creepy men put their hands all over you! Kiss your fucking neck and grope you?!” You didn't think you could get more frustrated, but somehow you are. 

“That is not fair. And you know it.” Natasha walks towards you finally. Her finger digging into your chest after every word. 

“Friday, pull up my coms and hidden camera from my last mission with Nat.”

Natasha raises her eyebrows at you, then turns her head to the hologram on the kitchen island where your footage is now waiting to be played. 

“Let me buy you a drink.” Leonie, the target's sister whispers into your ear.

“I’m good thanks, my girlfriend will be back in a minute.” You say back to her, moving to the left to get out of her way. Anything to get away from this woman. 

“Well, she isn't here now. Come on, let me buy you a drink and show you a good time.” She whispers to you again, as her arms turn your body towards her and she runs her hands up and down your chest. 

“Hmmm, I’m perfectly ok. Thanks. Now if you could get the fuck off of me and leave me alone that would be appreciated.” You make the point of moving her hands off of your chest, taking another step back. You just wish Nat would hurry up and get what you both needed so this could be over with. 

But Leonie only moves closer towards you, her hands gripping onto you harder. 

“Friday, stop.” The video stops at Natashas words. Her hand swipes the hologram so it fades away. She places both hands on the table and you stay still while you watch her body tense and then ease over and over. 

“I’m sorry. I just, I saw her touching you and I jumped to conclusions. I just-” Natasha turns to you, tears falling from her eyes while she runs her hands through her hair. It’s the first time you’ve seen her in a month. And it’s also the worst you have ever seen her too. 

Dark black bags lay underneath her eyes, she hasn’t been sleeping well. Which you're not shocked about, she can hardly sleep when you're not next to her. Her hair is dirty, her top has old food down the front. She is hardly herself. And seeing her like this, it kills you. She is always so well put together, so seeing her the complete opposite makes everything fly from your head. 

“Shhh, it’s okay. I-I get it. Shhh, come on. I’m here.” You pull her into your arms holding her head to your chest. You knew you’d give in, especially seeing her crying, it has always been a weakness for you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you so much and I just- I should have let you speak but I didn’t. I was so hurt and angry, I’m sorry.” She sobs into your chest, your heart breaking even more. Natasha is never like this, it shocks you so much that part of you doesn’t truly know how to help her.

“I know, I’m sorry too, I’m sorry too baby. Come on, let’s calm down. I love you too.” You pull her head from your chest, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her tears slow down and she finally takes in a whole breath. Her body calmed down. 

Her body slums into your own, one of your hands moving to lift her leg, silently telling her to jump up. Her legs wrap around your waist as you walk you both over to the elevator, pressing onto your shared floor. Natasha’s head stays put in the crook of your neck, while you walk through towards the ensuite. 

You wrap your arm around her waist so she knows to stay put while you lean down and start to run a bath. You know she isn’t going to be able to sleep yet, her body still needs to calm down some more.

You lower her to the floor, a vulnerable whimper coming from Natasha while her feet touch the floor. You make sure to put her favorite bubble bath in before you turn around and help take off her shirt. The rest of her clothes follow soon. But Natashas hand reaching out for your own clothes doesn’t shock you as much as you thought, she needs your touch, she needs your comfort. It only makes sense she wants you in the bath with her. 

You help her in first before you slide in behind her. Her body relaxes into your own before you make her lean forward again so you can help to wash her hair. It’s silent while you help wash each other. Natasha now facing you with her legs either side of your waist, while she rests her forehead on your own with her eyes closed.

You feel Natasha shiver, knowing it’s time to finally get out. You reluctantly pull away, another whimper falling from her lips when you stand up and get out of the tub, making sure to drain it while grabbing both of you a towel. But Natasha only drops her own towel in favor of yours, making her body lean against yours while you wrap you both up in your own towel.

The silence seems comforting as you lead you both into the bedroom, Natasha forgoes her clothes and instead shuffles into the bed, leaving the cover open for you. You already know what she needs and forget about clothes yourself while you follow after her. 

Her chest presses into your own as she positions herself to lay on top of you, the need for skin on skin contact making her body sigh happily. It’s been a month after all. 

She leans up on her elbows, her eyes in line with your own, before she leans down and places a kiss onto your lips, one you’ve been longing for since everything happened. “I’m sorry” She whispers again against your lips, one of her hands moving to your cheek to hold you against her. “I know, I am too.” You reply before leaning up and kissing her again. Her body somehow becomes even heavier on your body while the kiss continues. Your hands caressing her body, clinging to her not wanting to let go. 

Your kiss becomes harder, more meaningful as you both try to show how sorry you both are in your own aways. 

Natasha’s back arches, your hand falling to hip presses her down harder onto you. A moan falling from both of your lips at the action. 

You can feel your body getting warmed up, her body following closely as she continues to grind against you. It’s hard to keep kissing her when moans won't stop flowing out of you. 

Natasha’s hand reaches down behind her own body, falling right onto your slowly hardening appendage. She grabs hold of you, stroking you up and down while you break the kiss to throw your head back, her name falling from your lips while she moves her kisses to your neck. 

Natasha lifts her hips, your hard on slapping against your stomach before she lowers herself to grind along you again. Your hand grips her hair to pull her lips back to your own when you feel how wet she is. 

She doesn’t waste anymore time before she lifts again and maneuvers you to enter her. “F-fuu-ck.” You groan out as you're met with her tight wet walls. The feeling overwhelms you as she lifts her hips slowly down, engulfing you fully until she lifts up again leaving only your tip inside of her. 

Natasha continues to move slowly but with purpose, moans releasing from you both while you somehow still manage to keep the kiss continuing. You swallow her moans beautifully, while your hands finally move to her hips and help her move against you. You need to reach deeper.

Your hands leave Natasha’s hips, one climbing to rest on the back of her neck while the other holds the bottom of her back. She kisses you harder when she feels how possessive your touch is, and it only shocks her when you manage to flip you both over, her head meeting her own pillow while you now take over with the movement of your own hips. Her legs move to wrap tightly against you, holding you close as she finally feels you reach the deepest parts of her. 

“I-I-I love you.” Natasha moans against your lips, your breathing picking up as you fight against the need to thrust into her harder, this isn’t just sex, it is so much more to both of you. “I love you too baby.” You manage to get out while you continue your steady pace, pushing all the way in and pulling all the way out over and over again. 

It’s almost impossible to carry on kissing one another, your head falling into her neck, as you breathe her in deeply, her smell overwhelming you while she moans freely into the room.

Natasha grips you tighter, her nails holding onto your back, you can feel how close she is, her walls continuing to clench and unclench around you, making you have to push into her even harder. 

You're both so close. 

“I love you so much Y/n, fuckkkk, please, I’m sorry.” 

“I know, I love you too, you're being so good. I’m sorry too.” You breathe into her mouth. Your hand pulling out from between her and the bed to press onto her clit to help her finally reach the end goal. 

“Wanna cum with you, please y/n.” Natasha’s words encourage you to press, her walls now impossibly tight you can barely move. But you're right on the edge, the same as her. 

“Cum baby, cum with me.” You mutter onto her lips as both let go. Natasha’s hands scratching down your back as her orgasm sends her to cloud nine, your own orgasm causing your body to still while you release inside of her. 

It takes a moment for you to both calm down, heavy breaths now replace heavy moans while you rest your weight on top of her, your forehead meeting her own, causing your breaths to mix together. You go to move out of her but you're met with her hands holding you close once again. She needs this touch, this connection you both do. So you stay nestled inside of her, deciding to pull her body into your own before rolling over and allowing her weight to now cover you instead. Breathy, tired moans falling from both of your lips while you adjust to another new position, both still so sensitive from how hard your orgasms were.

Natasha rests her chin on your chest while she looks at her. Her eyes hazy and full of love, her hand falling onto your cheek while she strokes your cheek. You move your head to press a kiss onto her palm. 

“Let’s forget everything that has happened in the last month. From now on, if something happens, no matter how upset, hurt or angry we are, we always let the other person speak too. No more pushing each other away.” You mumble to Nat, her eyes never leaving your own. 

“Okay, I promise. I love you” Natasha voices back. 

“I promise too. I love you, and I don't want to feel anyone but you.”

[debbiechanclub]

The cruel irony of it being winter and I have the worst allergies-induced brain fog that I've had in a while

[mywritersmind]

ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - LN4

↳ pt.4

summary : A week of not so secret flirting, drunken parties, and being surrounded by your best friends; it ends with a promise and a kiss.

og summary : Its the vacation of your dreams! With your best friends, rich men, live music, and flowing drinks, nothing can ruin it. Even if a certain Formula 1 driver (who seems to have an affinity for annoying you) is there every step of the sandy way.

listen up : suggestive comments!! kissing! language!! all done <33 thanks for all the love recently i truly love you all. final part pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

word count : 3324 + tiny bit of smau

⋆｡‧˚⋆

My feet are freezing but my torso is warm. My head hurts and when I move to sit up in bed, I'm yanked back down by a weight over my waist.

What? I eye the arm over me and trail it all the way to the man next to me. No.

I practically throw his arm off me but he doesn’t wake up, just stirs a bit and tugs on the blanket. It moves down his bare chest to reveal his tanned abs.

I’m in my pajamas. My hair is knotted. My head is pounding. I hit Lando with a pillow.

“Norris!”

He groans, turning away from me and mumbling. Once he realizes the person yelling at him is in his bed, he blinks at me. “What could be so important that you’re waking me up by pillow?” His morning voice is deep and scratchy.

“What the fuck am I doing here!?” I remember going out. I don’t remember making my way into Lando’s bed!

He rolls his eyes then closes them. I hit him again, “Hey!”

“Lando!” I yell again, then my hand goes to my mouth and my eyes widen, “We didn’t…”

He looks genuinely offended, “Give me some credit, Pretty. You’d know.” His arms go to the back of his head, a slight smirk on his face.

I screw my face up, “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.” I hit him again, “Okay! Okay! You came here to get your purse but you were shit drunk and wouldn’t leave.”

Shit. “Oh.” I do not recall this at all. I cross my arms. “You couldn’t have slept on the couch?”

“You crashed my bed!” I remember him calling me beautiful.

I groan and stand up, pulling my hair up and finally spotting my purse. The floor is freezing and I can feel Lando’s eyes on me as I cross his room.

“You really don’t remember anything from last night?” I turn back so see him leant over the bed, the comforter dangerously low on his waist.

I turn back and pretend to look in my bag, “I don’t remember anything after my third shot and you dancing with that girl.” I know it’s the wrong thing to say right as it leaves my mouth.

“Oh… So you got drunk because you were jealous.” I don’t need to turn around to know he’s smirking.

“Goodbye Lando.” I make my way to the door.

“You’re not denying it!” He yells after me.

I shake my head and grab the door handle, “Truce, Norris. Don’t forget it!”

⋆༺

My friends and I meet for breakfast, gossiping about the locals and everything that happened last night. “You didn’t answer when I knocked this morning.” Rebecca looks at me while stirring her coffee.

“Hot night?” Alex teases as I make eye contact with Lily who’s smirking.

“I must have just been asleep…” My tone is less than convincing and me being late to breakfast didn’t help either. “You can’t freak out.”

I tell them about waking up next to Lando, their jaws dropped and their hands paused on utensils. Lily is the least shocked but definitely the most disappointed when I share that I didn’t have sex with him.

“Ok i’m officially freaking out!” Kika drops her fork, shaking her head as I prepare for the million questions they have for me.

⋆༺

LANDO

“Last day!” Pierre claps his hands together as we walk down the streets of turkey. The girls’ absence is very noticeable because my friends are fully attentive this morning.

“I’m sad.” Carlos sighs, “I don’t want to go back to real life.”

“I’m excited to go back!” Alex shrugs, looking around the white buildings, “I miss my cat.”

“I don’t know.” I say, “I've enjoyed this trip a lot. But I do need a break from you muppets.”

Charles hits my arm, “You only enjoyed it so much because you finally stopped toying around with Y/n.”

“Truth!” Pierre laughs, “I think you two are a great addition to the group. I mean you’re already in it but now everyone has a couple.

I eye him. “We’re not a couple. She barely likes me as it is.”

Carlos shakes his head, “Mate… She definitely likes you more than ‘barely’. Y/n may be strong willed but I've never seen her blush so much.”

I roll my eyes and pretend like that doesn’t make me like her more. “We’re friends. I think.”

“You think?” Charles raises a brow.

“I guess.” I say.

“Lando!” Carlos practically screams and slaps his hands down on my shoulders, “You need to ask her out.”

“I’m not asking her out! She’s scary as fuck.”

“Pussy.” Pierre and Alex cough at the same time as I side eye them.

“You’re just scared she’s gonna reject you.” Carlos says in my ear as I elbow him in the stomach, “Ow!”

“Fuck off and let’s go.”

⋆༺

YOU

I know he’s staring at me. I know he’s not trying to cover it up. I know he wants me to look back.

And I know I look good as hell.

“Norris!” Carlos calls from the water, “Come on!”

Lando doesn’t respond so I assume he shook his head because I don’t hear him getting up. I open my eyes and tilt my sunglasses down just as a smile breaks out on Lando’s face.

I suddenly understand the extent of why women fall at his feet. He’s got glasses on but his smile makes me want him to break my heart.

“Wanna go swim?”

I’m laying on my stomach so I rest my head against my warm arm and respond, “Go swim with Carlos.”

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t want to swim with Carlos.”

“Too bad. So sad.” I close my eyes again as I hear him mumble something under his breath.

“Wanna talk about your little jealously streak then?”

I sit up and face the water, “You’re one to talk.” He gives me a look to which I pull my sunglasses back on my head to fully look at him, “You gave that waiter a death glare!”

“He was being weird.”

I shake my head and laugh, “He was asking if I wanted parmesan!”

Lando does not look amused, playing around with his camera, “Parmesan is just where it starts…”

“So what? It’s cheese then asking to fuck me?”

He crosses his arms on the tanning chair, “Exactly.”

I breathe out, looking out at our friends in the water and the clear skies. “You shouldn’t care about that, Lando.”

“I can’t help it.” He shuffles around, snapping a few pictures as he nonchalantly says, “You looked good in my bed.”

I turn to him again, trying to actually see if he’s being serious but his face doesn’t crack into a smile. I’m speechless. And it’s embarrassing. “I- No.” I place my feet onto the sand and quickly stand, pulling off my sarong as I walk down the beach.

He follows me, of course he does.

“Don’t hide, Pretty. You blushing because of me is a lovely sight.” His fucking smile, god!

I’m frustrated that I can’t act cool around him all of the sudden, “Why don’t you look at the very beautiful ocean right in front of us!?”

He doesn’t even glance at the view, “I prefer you.”

My lips pull together in a thin line, “I can’t stand you.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion…” he steps forward and whispers, “that you can.”

I swallow and accidentally make eye contact with Lily who is smirking at us. I know they can’t hear what he’s saying but it still makes me nervous. “I’m sorry for last night.” It’s all I can think to say.

“I think we already established that it was no problem.” Right because he liked me in his bed! Kill me now. “Don't worry. We’ll have a redo soon enough.”

He starts walking away from me as I gasp, “A redo!? Lando what do you mean!?”

He starts walking backward, slowly. “One on both our terms? One with two sober attractive people?” He raises a brow.

I cross my arms but honestly want to laugh. I walk closer, “Keep dreaming, Norris.”

“It’s called manifesting, actually!” Is all he says before picking me up and slinging me over his shoulder. It takes me so off guard that I can’t help my scream.

“Lando!”

I can hear the smirk in his voice, his hands gripping my legs, “Scream my name, Pretty.”

⋆༺

LANDO

I’m looking at her again.

A little less admiring this time because i’m holding back a laugh as she tries to take Pierre down in a game of chicken.

She’s on Carlos’ shoulders while Charles has Pierre sat on his. Everyone is laughing around us as they watch the four.

I don’t even realize the man next to me until he clears her throat, “Hey man.” He’s american.

“Hi.” I think he’s going to ask for picture or something but then he looks up at Y/n and I get a sick sort of feeling that this is my karma for teasing her.

He looks back at me and gives me a cheesy grin, “I’m Nate.”

I nod slowly, “Hi Nate.”

“Mine telling me your friend's name?” Ok rude. He didn’t even ask for mine. I hate him.

“Carlos?” I blink, pointing to the man.

Nate laughs a bit awkwardly, “Nah man… The hot girl on his shoulders.”

“Oh.” I eye him, my disdain obvious, “That’s Y/n.”

“Y/n, huh? She single?” I give him a look to which he looks frightened at, His hand goes to my shoulder and I fight the urge to step back, “Shit! She’s not your girl, is she?”

“Um…” Everything in me wants to say yes. “No. No she’s not.”

He hums, “Right… I know that look. I’ll back off, I get it.” He’s grinning like he knows all my secrets, “Sorry to bother you.” I think he’s going to leave but he stops, “Man also- in my experience, it’s not a good sign, guys asking you about her.”

He leaves.

What the fuck? I finally get the girl to tolerate me and now everyone thinks I'm supposed to fall at her feet and beg her?

Yeah I'll do it.

⋆༺

YOU

The day has flown by, with the sun burning us one last time and our lunch at the best local place where the chef adores us. I’m sad to go. Even If we still have this last night.

Dinner is slow and quiet, we’re all pretty tired but comment on little things around us.

I’m in a long dark blue dress, my favorite for our last night. Lando’s next to me and by the end of our dinner, he rests his head on my shoulder. I say nothing because I like his closeness.

Kika clears her throat, “This was an amazing trip and I'm very glad I got to enjoy it with you lot. I’m very very thankful for everyone here, and how our little group operates.”

Pierre rubs her back, “I’m thankful for hotel beds. And mojitos and sunscreen.” I laugh as Alex starts.

“I’m grateful for fish and sunglasses.”

Lily shakes her head, “I’m thankful for my lovely friends and for all the amazing food we ate! Plus me beating Lando in golf.”

Lando groans next to me, “I’ll get you one day, Lil.”

I smile, “I’m grateful for the ocean! And boat rides and night swims.”

“I’m grateful for spas and books!” Alexandra joins in.

Charles smiles at her lovingly, “I’m thankful for friends and cooking classes.” God that seems like forever ago.

“I’m thankful for golf as well!” Carlos grins, “And wine.”

Rebecca laughs and squeezes his hand, “I’m grateful for morning yoga and sunsets.”

Lando doesn’t sit up when it’s his turn, just stays resting on my shoulder, “I’m thankful for my camera and all the pretty views I've captured.” His foot nudges mine.

I blink, looking down at him as he just stares forward. Kika grins and holds up her glass, “To us!” I join as we all hold up our respective drinks.

“To us!” We repeat and cheers, Lando’s head leaving my shoulder as he holds up his water.

“You know…” Pierre looks around at us, “I’m not very tired.”

Carlos grins and taps his finger against the table, “It’s our last night…”

Lily laughs and stands, “Beach bar!”

⋆༺

The thought of drinking makes me feel sick so I stick to water. Lando is nursing a drink but it’s the same one I've seen him with all night.

I catch his eye while he’s talking to the bartender, he smiles softly and makes his way over to me immediately.

“Hi.” Hi? I don’t think Lando’s ever said Hi to me.

“Hello…?”

He leans against the bar as the music gets louder, “Fun night?”

I nod, sipping my water as someone bumps into us. He drunkenly apologizes before Lando looks at me again, “Want to go for a walk?”

I find walking down the beach at night with Lando far too often… Not that i’m complaining.

His drink is gone and his shoes are in his hand as mine are in mine, “Accomplish everything you wanted to?”

“Accomplish?” I laugh, “Do you go to every vacation with a to-do list?”

He shrugs shyly, “Maybe a mental one. Like I knew I needed to jet ski. I didn’t know it would end up with an attempted drowning…”

I scoff and hit his arm, “I wish your dramatic ass did drown.”

He just grins, “You’re remarkably bad at lying.”

I shake my head, looking back at him, “It’s something about you… You call me out on everything.”

“Because it’s so easy to catch. Even if you’re joking… you bite your lip a bit. No matter the lie.”

I frown, “You notice things like that?”

He looks past me at the water, then back to me. His face is shaded but the moonlight helps see his features, “I notice a lot of things about you.”

“If you told me that a week ago… I would have laughed in your face.”

“It didn’t just start this week. You just avoided me at every chance you got before this trip, but you’re hard to miss.”

I’m walking backwards now, looking at his loose button down and his hand in his pocket, “Are you saying you watched me, Norris?”

“I don’t think you understand that you’re very interesting to watch.” I go to speak but he cuts me off, “And don’t you dare call me creep. I know you do it too.”

I smile, “I’m grateful for you, Lando.”

His brows raise, “Am I being pranked…?” He comes to a stop as I push his shoulder back.

“I am. You bug the good out of me.”

He sets down his shoes, the music and lights from the beach bar far away but still seen and heard softly. “I’m glad you think so.”

It surprises me when his hand goes to my waist, “What are you doing?” I say quickly.

“Humor me.” Is all he says as his other hand meets my waist for the second time. I move my arms to his shoulders, my hand behind his head.

“Do you dance with all your friends by moonlight?” We sway a bit together.

He smiles again, his eyes so bright even in the dark, “I can tell you in confidence that this is a Y/n special. But you hurt me a bit.”

I raise a brow, “What?”

“Friendzoned while thinking about kissing you isn’t a fun thing.” My heart rate starts up.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Go out with me. When we get back.” I watch him talk so close to me, “No hostess forcing us together or shitty small talk. Come on, Pretty. For real.” He’s so beautiful and so nice and so funny.

“We don’t live close. Lando, you travel-”

“Fuck that. I’m asking you on a date in Monaco because I like you, a lot. If nothing else was in the way, what would you say?” He seems almost nervous and it makes me smile because he never shows this side of him.

“I would say yes.” I can’t help it. “But those things are very real and…”

“And?” He raises a brow, a smile replacing his nervous face.

I can’t help but smile, “And I like you. Maybe too much…” this makes his grin widen. “But still!”

“I can fly. I don’t know if you know this…” he leans in closer to whisper in my ear, “But I have some extra money.”

I pretend to push away but he holds me tight, “One date.”

He nods, repeating my words, “One date.”

“Our friends will freak out.”

“They’ll love it.”

“I know they will.” I shake my head, “I swear this was just a ploy to get us together.”

He laughs, “It worked, didn’t it?”

I laugh with him because he’s correct. I started this week with a bad attitude and a need for sun. I’m leaving it with a pretty boy and tanned skin.

“You still don’t know a lot about me.” We sway.

Lando shrugs, our faces extra close now, “I know you can talk for hours. I’ll listen.”

And I know he’s not lying.

“I’m annoying a lot of the time.”

He nods far too theatrically, “Trust me, I know!” I step on his foot but he just uses it as a way to bring me closer. I can hear his breathing and when I meet his eyes again, they’re soft and kind, “One more thing.”

“Go for it, Norris.” I’m whispering but I don’t know why.

There’s no one around, just the faint sound of music and waves crashing. “Can I kiss you?” It’s something so simple that I want to cry.

I smile, “You’re lucky you’re pretty, Norris.” He gives me a look, “Yes, Lando. You can kiss me anytime.”

And so he does.

⋆༺

LANDO

She smells like coconuts and tastes like mint. Her lips are soft against mine.

Our first kiss was on this beach, but it was different. It was hungry and intrigued. I was drunk and she was ethereal.

Now, she’s still beautiful but I'm not drunk. She’s soft. Does that make sense? It makes sense to me. She’s soft against me, his hands brush my neck and cheek, I can feel her smile against me.

Her kiss is something writers dream about and something I’ve imagined in a million different scenarios.

The start of this trip, my main goal was to tease and bug her until she broke. My goal now has been fulfilled with her promise of a real date and her kissing me like I actually mean something to her.

I like that I mean something to her.

She pulls back, her hands on my neck and in my hair, “You’re really beautiful too, you know.” Her lipgloss is smudged and her dress is getting wrinkled under my touch.

I take her in, every inch of her. I want to burn this moment in my brain forever. I haven’t stopped smiling for hours and it’s all because of her. “You’re amazing.”

She laughs, “You don’t have to one up my compliment.” I really didn’t mean to even try.

“I’m serious.” Her face tells me she understands suddenly, “Thank you, Y/n. You really are my favorite surprise this trip.”

She smiles, her hand on my chest, “I never believed our friends. They used to say how great we’d be together.”

“They’re geniuses and I owe them my life.” I shrug as she laughs my favorite laugh in the world: the one where I make her head drop and her teeth show.

“I’m sorry I ever was mean to you.”

“That’s alright…” I push back a strand of her hair, “Everyone needs a bit of foreplay.”

LANDONORRIS

landonorris DUMP FROM MARMARIS!! I miss it and I hate the rain.

username262 : TAN LANDO IS BACK

↳ username32 : he’s literally always tan i’m jealous

yourusername : 😊☀️

↳ landonorris :😋🫵

↳ username123 : what…?

username01 : who is the girl lando??

↳ username44 : his friend!! him and some drivers + girlfriends were on the trip

↳ username56 : interesting that they were the only single ones there…

pierregasly : let’s go back

charlesleclerc : alexandra is already planning another one (this time as a true couples trip)

↳ landonorris : WOAHHH SHHH

landofan4 : she’s sooo pretty istg how do these men pull these women!?

↳ username628 : they’re not even confirmed??

↳ username25 : trust me they will be in a month.

carlossainz : maybe you won’t suck at golf next time

↳ lilymunihe : not likely.

kikagomez : treat her poorly and i’ll punch you

↳ yourusername : punch him!

↳ landonorris : i haven’t even done anything?? and i wont!!!

maxfewtrell : thanks for the invite

alexalbon : I love the part of this dump where the only solo pics are of you and Y/n……..🤨🤨🤨🤨

↳ yourusername : funny alex my favorite part is the same thing😁😁😁

[coucouatoi]

now you're in my life... | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Warnings: sexual tension, slutshaming, women being viewed as wives and baby makers only (not by Harry), fluff, Harry being a gentleman, implied age gap, smut

A/N: Bridgerton fic incoming!! I'm late to the Bridgerton party but I've finally rewatched it all... also didn't reread a 7th time so if u find any errors, sorry <3

Summary:

Dearest Gentle Readers, remember that a Bridgerton Courting season is never complete without some juicy drama. Here's some tips to stay... out of trouble:

1- Don't attempt to stand out

2- Don't even try to become the Diamond

3- Don't get caught with Londons most sought after bachelor in a compromising position

Good luck readers!

Lady Whistledown

Travel is exhausting. It always is.

Travelling with the end goal being dancing, presenting yourself, being courted and then wed is excruciating.

Your mother, bless her, is more excited than you've ever seen her. The carriage is already quite cramped with you, her and your younger brother squeezed tightly against each other. Her legs bounce constantly, her fan is flapping like she wants it to break in half and the lessons. Oh god, the lessons. A second of silence is too long. You have to be bombarded with rules and tips to make you the perfect debutante this new season.

Your brother, however, is barely spoken to. He is not going to be presented to the ton until a few more years have passed. The conversations seem to bore him. Bore him so much that he has seemingly slept through the entire trip... or at least pretended to.

Your trip to London is quite long. You have taken a boat and ridden so many carriages your behind has most likely become flatter. Today is the last day of travel thankfully. You'll be arriving at your family's English estate soon enough, your father is probably already waiting in the steps most likely impatiently tapping his foot.

He and your mother are still obsessively in love with each other. Married three weeks after courting during their first-ever year as debutants. First child, you, nine months later... after that things slowed down. It took them twelve years to have another child and now, six years later, she's gotten pregnant again. Their grand finale as they keep calling it.

You can only wish that you'll be able to find someone who makes you feel even just a smidge as happy as your parents make each other. That there's someone here, in London, who will make a worthy husband and an even more worthy father.

Your mother's squeal startles you out of your thoughts as you turn into the estate. She must have spotted your father.

The time has come, you must now be the best future bride possible for all the men in the Bridgerton ton to run after.

-

You feel absolutely ridiculous. Who allowed this to be the standard for debutantes?? A feather tucked into your neatly styled hair but not just any kind of feather it's not small or dainty, no. It's tall. Taller than most things in the room. On your tiptoes, you could reach some of the lower ceilings with it. The dress is fine, the gloves are only a little itchy and the shoes are actually quite pretty. But that damn feather...

"Are you sure I can't just accidentally set it on fire?" you grumble to your mother who is your sponsor for your official debut this season.

"That would certainly bring attention to you... I'll entertain the thought" she quips with a small smile.

"I look ridiculous with it! What's the point of looking like an ostrich? Is that what English men find desirable?" you're incredibly confused. This can't possibly be something that attracts suitors...

"The Queen demands it, my dear", she rubs your arm reassuringly, "We don't want to upset her"

You shrug in defeat. Your mother is right, no one would dare go against the queen. Especially when you are to be presented in her court.

The two women in front of you are escorted into the ballroom as their names are called. The doors close as the debutante bows to the Queen.

This is it. You're next. You're going to walk in front of the entire ton as fresh meat. Someone they don't know.

Your father owns an estate here but you've only been to London twice before this. Never enough time to make friends or make any kind of impression. Hopefully, they don't eat you alive.

Your mother fusses over the sleeves of your dress. Then she tugs your gloves up, making them pull uncomfortably at the webbing between each of your fingers. You let her fix anything that she deems askew or not perfect enough. It's the nerves making her twitchy. As the doors open in front of you she pushes the feathers you wear deeper into your up-do.

"Y/N L/N and her mother Lady L/N" Your mother locks your elbow with hers as you walk forward.

The room is littered with people, London's finest and richest gathered to see what fresh meat this courting season brings.

The other debutantes are lined next to each other facing the door, their mothers or older sisters behind them peering over shoulders.

Once your eyes lay on the queen you suck in the breath you were about to take. She sits on her throne like she was born to be on it. Her head held high but her eyes inquisitive. She eyes you up and down, more than once, it makes you stand up straighter. You want her to like you, get her and the rest of the ton curious.

Your mother lets go of you as you get closer to the Queen. The last steps you take are the most nerve-wracking ones you've ever taken. All eyes are on you; men, women, debutantes, the queen's harem, potential prospects.... Everyone.

You bow to her, deeply. Your right leg goes behind your left, you bend your knees and your head tucks down towards your chest. You stay like that, it's only polite to stay low as long as you can but when your foot starts feeling numb you stand back up.

She's in front of you. Eyes locked on your face, she examines it as a smirk forms on her face. The Queen approves of you.

"My diamond, make me proud" She taps your cheek once, twice, thrice before kissing your forehead and nodding her head as she makes her way back to her throne.

What does she mean by Diamond?

-

As soon as you enter the Bridgerton ball with your family you're swarmed. It's as if you're the newly set dessert table.

Potential suitors waving pens in your face begging for a spot on your dance card.

Is this what being the Diamond is all about?

Being chased around like you're nothing more than a cheap prize to these men? That's probably what you are to them...

You fill out two dance spots at random before managing to wiggle your way through the crowd and into the actual festivities.

The ballroom is enchanting, with flowers of every kind scattered all around the room. You feel like you've stepped into an indoor garden, everywhere you look there's at least one blooming plant. It's gorgeous. You want to stay in this room forever.

The dance floor is currently occupied by couples, waltzing around each other, the choreography running through their veins as if they were born knowing them.

It's all so hypnotizing. The dances, music, seeing the ton gossip so proudly, the men trying to woo this season's debutantes and the women batting their lashes waiting for someone to walk up. It's a game, all of it and you love being a witness. Well, a player now...

"They have a buffet!" Your little brother exclaims as he runs through the crown and straight for a table littered with a large array of foods. He's going to be distracted there for at least 2 whole dances. You have the next dance clear for now so you take the time to wander around, head held high as you take everything in. Your mother had fused incessantly over how you should act tonight and over your chosen outfit. It had to be:

- Fit for a diamond (whatever that may be)

- Have flowers, by order of the Queen

- Unique enough to attract attention

- Modest but not prudish

Complicated demands under the time restraints you had but she made it work. Calling upon her best modiste contacts and personally seeing to the design of them. You have to admit she has done quite the selection for you this evening.

Your gown is a light green, sage might it be? There's a thin layer of darker tule over the bottom half and your sleeves, giving it dimension. The area that goes around your bust and upper back is lighter and full of gemstones shaped like different flowers. It looks like the modiste managed to sew an entire bouquet into the fabric. The gloves are sage as well, going past your elbows and trimmed with the same darker tule. Your mother had a spare ribbon of the sage silky fabric saved for your hair. It's styled into the updo, weaving itself perfectly between the colours of your neatly styled hair. Smaller gemstones have also been placed precariously to make sure you shine as bright as any diamond should.

They've done an excellent job at making you look like a walking dream. Tempting, gorgeous and almost unattainable.

The song that is playing is about to end, which means you're about to have your first dance of the evening. You can't even recall with whom you had simply grabbed a random pen and wrote the colour of his jacket. Too many names had been screamed at you for you to decipher which was his. Hopefully, whoever occupies your first spot manages to find you and whisk you away to the dance floor.

As the couples either leave the dance floor or get ready for the next song, you look around somewhat panicked. Is your first slot not even going to find you? That would be slightly humiliating...

"Lady L/N" you turn swiftly toward the voice behind you. "I'm Lord Talag, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance" Lord Talag takes your hand and presses his lips to the back of it. His suit is blue with silver stitching, your very first slot. He leads you to the dance floor and you both take the first positions for the waltz. The violins start first and you're instantly moving.

Arms gracefully twirling over your head as you spin backwards. As you turn you can't focus on Lord Talag but you know he's doing the same thing. When you stop your turns and face your partner, you see that he's fallen. On his ass, on the floor, in front of everyone. The other couples around you stop abruptly to not trip over him.

"My Lord! Are you alright?" you gasp reaching out to help him stand. However, he ignores your attempts to aid him back on his feet and dusts himself off.

"Good evening, Lady L/N," he says and rushes out of the room. He resembles a kitten running to beg their owner for a treat: legs kicking quickly, bum shimming from side to side, a determined expression...

You're left standing in the middle of the dance floor as everyone looks at you with a confused expression. Your own must look quite similar to theirs. Your first dance partner for the evening has walked out on you. All because he fell on his ass. Men, am I right??

Taking a breather after the embarrassing moment Lord Talag put you through is essential. You can't possibly face the ton as they gossip about it. His chances of finding a bride now are squashed, he's the laughingstock of this courting season. Well, for now at least...

The midnight air is crisp. The cold air prickles at your skin causing goosebumps but you enjoy it, your skin had heated up under everyone's stares. There's no wind, no sound (besides the muffled voices inside) and only a slight orange hue glows around you on the balcony. There are some oranges perched around you and over your head. They aren't quite ripe yet but they do look particularly inviting.

You turn to rest your bum against the marble railing, lifting your head towards the sky. The stars are bright. Brighter than you would have imagined to see in the city. They reflect over the artificial pond under you, seemingly dancing on the ripples. It's all so peaceful.

"Don't you think it's a little cold to be out here without a coat?" the deep voice has you jumping out of your skin. You turn around abruptly to see who's sharing the balcony with you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know someone was already here" you bow politely already stepping towards the door. You're not about to have two incredibly embarrassing moments in one evening. Would the Queen be tempted to take away your 'Diamond' status?

"There's no need to leave!" He rushes towards you, his right arm extended towards the door and body facing you. You back up quickly not wanting to make any accidental contact. You're unchaperoned in a private setting with a man... Please let no one come outside!

"I'm sorry if I startled you. I just realized you were holding onto yourself quite tightly... as if trying to heat up" he adds moving away from you as he stands up straight again. He must have realized how compromising this could seem.

"Oh! No, I'm actually comfortable... I'm just overthinking" you clarify for the mysterious, albeit handsome, man. You don't want him offering his jacket or anything of the sort. That would look even worse.

"Ah, I see. These types of events always bring out the worst in people" he laughs dryly as he shakes his head. It's almost as if he's recalling a specific memory. "I'm Harry, Duke Styles if you want specifics"

DUKE??? Your nighttime patio buddy is a DUKE?? This could not look any worse. You have to leave the secluded area now! Before anyone joins you and screams indecency.

Your panic must not be very well concealed as Har- Duke Styles, gets closer to you again with his hands raised.

"I'm not going to bite you, please don't panic" his hands are waiving slowly in front of your face. He's trying to demonstrate that he means no harm but all it does is make you jump back. Your mother would berate you if she knew what was happening right now. "What's your name?" he asks in a soft tone.

"Um, I'm... I'm Lady L/N" You somehow manage to speak in a slow and stuttering manner but it worked.

"The diamond?!" Oh god. He didn't even know. "How do you have time for a breather? Isn't your dance card full?" he sounds completely shocked.

You shake your head rapidly. It's the only answer you're able to give him before the patio door bursts open as a couple attached at the lips tumbles outside. They walk straight into Lord Styles, making his knees give out and then falling straight into you. His hands grasp your waist and arm seemingly trying to get himself straight up on his feet again. He fails. He keeps falling unfortunately dragging you down with him. His left hand, the one holding your arm, quickly moves to the back of your head before it makes contact with the stone floor. The other at your waist stays there but his grip tightens, you can feel it firmly through your corset.

The couple has separated from one another and they are now looking at you both in shock. They were most likely not expecting anyone outside. They are speaking, well you think so. Their lips and arms move erratically but there's only a high-pitched ringing in your ears.

The hand on the back of your head tilts it away from them, your eyes meet Lord Styles. They are wide, worried, panicked. You're not sure why.

He's talking too but he must be whispering as the ringing is still the only thing you hear. It's getting annoying; you want to know what he's saying to you. It seems important.

Your vision blurs right before it darkens completely. You've passed out not even knowing of the commotion you've caused.

-

Tule, satin, silk, needles, charcoal drawings on the walls, books scattered on various surfaces... Where have you found yourself now? You seem to be in a study of some sort that also serves as a studio. You manage to sit up slowly, the pounding in your head spiking for a second before it settles.

"Mother?" you call out in a weak voice. How did you get here? Or better yet, who put you in here? No one answers your call so, at a snail's pace, you manage to get into a standing position. Your legs are stronger than you thought they would be, aiding you in your quest to figure out where in the Queen's name you are.

As soon as you leave the study your eyes burn because of the bright sunlight streaming in the hallway you now find yourself in. Blinking a few times makes your eyes adjust quicker making you able to tune into your other senses.

You hear mumbling, a few different voices leak out of the room right next to where you had been sleeping. You try to make out what they saying but nothing makes sense in your mind. You can't even hear them enough to confirm if you know any of the voices.

Not even considering that some may think it rude or even improper you open the door and make your way inside.

Lord Styles is the first on his feet; almost seems like a knee-jerk reaction. His posture is tight, and uncomfortable he is standing straight as a ruler as he looks at you with a terrified expression.

"My darling!" your mother rushes to you as fast as she can with her swollen feet and round stomach slowing her usual pace.

She brushes your hair out of your face before embracing you. She holds you tight but carefully as if to not break you.

"How do you feel?" she asks you once she pulls away.

"Fine, I think. My head hurts quite a bit but it's bearable" You smile at her reassuring as your gaze drifts back to the man still statuesque in the middle of the room. You don't find words to say but you do walk towards him. You don't like seeing him this uncomfortable... especially in what seems to be his estate.

"This is yours? The house?" you ask him gently. His eyes meet yours and the tension seems to bleed out a little. He's a bit more at ease seeing that you are polite and cordial with him.

"Yes, we thought it was best to bring you back here... less scandalous" He gestures to your father and he only nods back as an answer.

"Less scandalous?" you look around the room, at the three people surrounding you with different expressions on their faces. Your mother; excited, your father; thoughtful, Lord Style's; embarrassed?

"Why is your estate less scandalous, Lord Styles?" you meet his eyes, hoping to somehow be able to read his mind. Figure out why he's so closed off now. He did seem pretty willing to talk to you on the pat-

The patio. Oh my. The patio!

"Why am I here Father?" your headache spikes when you turn your head rapidly towards him. His expression tells you all

that you need to know. You're now engaged. There's no scandal because you're going to wed Duke Harry Styles.

"An outdoor wedding would be gorgeous this time of year, don't you think so Y/N?" your father smiles at you kindly. He's happy with the man you've managed to "score", even if it isn't a love match like him and your mother.

You only nod at him before looking back at Lord Styles, whom you find to be already looking in your direction. He meets your gaze and bows his head in a polite gesture, welcoming you. Welcoming you in your new home, into your new life as a Duchess.

The wedding is set to happen in 9 days. The first wedding of this year's courting season. Your mother has been on top of everything, she's practically planning the whole thing. You and Lord Styles, your fiancée, let her do it... after all this was a surprise to both of you.

Today you're choosing your wedding dress. The last dress that you'll wear as the incredibly eligible and sought-after diamond. The dress you'll become a bride and then a wife in. You'll become a duchess, Duchess Styles...

"What do you think of this one, dear?" your mother is holding a white gown with delicate baby pink embroidered flowers all over it. You nod approvingly making your way back behind the changing partition as she brings it over to you. It's only the second one you're trying on so your spirits are still high. Madame Delacroix, the modiste, was much too eager to have you wear one of her gowns on your big day. Said it was "Perfect marketing!" and she led you to her newest collection that was apparently straight from France.

You manage to slide it on with no issues and as you're about to ask the modiste for some help with the clasp in the back you hear a voice you don't recognize say your name. You stay quiet hoping to hear what they are saying.

"You haven't read Lady Whistledown yet?! This one is so juicy, she talks about Duke Styles and the Diamond"

"Please tell me you have a copy of it on you! I need to know how that happened"

Are people really this eager to know how you got engaged?

After the first girl presumably pulls out a copy of whatever they were talking about they start reading it aloud.

"But how could I forget to mention the most surprising moment of the courting season yet? London's own most wanted bachelor, Duke Harry Styles, has found a worthy bride. He does shoot for the stars, doesn't he? Or rather in the mines... as the newest Duchess soon joining the ton is Lady L/N, the Diamond.

However, the choice seems to have been made by herself and herself only. Who wouldn't throw themselves at him just to be caught in a compromising position? I certainly would! Her parents must be so proud to have such a stellar whore seductress presented this season.

The hopefully happy couple already share a house, how warm is the Duke's bed? Has Lady Y/N done what so many other noble women have wanted to do?

Congratulations to the happy couple... See you at the wedding!

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown"

Your blood runs cold, you're frozen in place after hearing what was written about you. You don't even know who these two girls are, who the writer is or where this paper comes from. Is that really what people think of you? That you whored yourself to Duke Styles to secure a wealthy and powerful man? You haven't made a single friend yet and now this is what people are saying about you, how are you meant to live amongst them now?

You quickly undress yourself of the wedding gown and get back into your dress, you somehow manage to clasp it yourself. Before running out of the boutique you hand the dress back to your mother and take a quick look at the girls that were just gossiping.

They are already looking at you with wide eyes and shocked expressions. Well, at least that's what you think their reaction is to seeing you practically trip out of the shop.

You don't hear what your mother calls out to you, too concerned with the humiliation pumping throw your veins. You need to get back to the Dukes manor as soon as you possibly can. You're grateful to have ridden here separately from your mother so you don't have to leave her stranded with no carriage and very pregnant. The ride back feels never-ending... How can you ever face the ton again?

The bath water is almost boiling, perfect to wash away the shame you felt. Your mind is all over the place. Nothing you can come up with will fix this, you're stuck labelled as some desperate whore. Does your betrothed know who this woman is? What those papers are? If anyone and everyone reads what she writes about other people? The lies she creates to make things interesting... You didn't even manage to find a gown you liked for the wedding... You might now not even be able to face the public, would the Queen allow a private wedding for her diamond? Probably not.

"Oh! I'm sorry I didn't know you were back" For the second time today your blood runs cold. The scorching hot water feels icy against your skin as you look up to meet Duke Styles's gaze.

He is also stuck where he is. His feet seemingly glued to the floor, one hand holding the door handle and the other stopped halfway done unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes leave your face and trail down your nude body under the water. No man has ever looked at these parts of you, he isn't supposed to see them until your wedding night.

He swallows when his gaze snaps back to yours, probably just registering what he was doing.

"I'll let you bathe, sorry for interrupting" he turns around quickly but before he can close the door you call out to him.

"Who's Lady Whistledown?" your voice cracks halfway, desperate to get an answer that no worker has answered. Not the chariot driver, not the gardener, not even the maids that helped prepare the bath everyone avoided your question. "Why did she write about me, my lord? About us?"

He takes a few seconds to walk back into the room but eventually comes in and shuts the door.

He sees there is a small stool in the corner of the room, the maid has used it to undo your hairdo when you got in the bath. He grabs it and places it next to the tub, close to where your face is. He sits facing you with one of his arms resting on the edge, trying to look nonchalant.

"Call me Harry, no need for formalities between us" is the first thing he says, you nod as your answer.

Before speaking again he takes in a deep breath and wipes down his face, looking for a way to explain this.

"You read it?" your voice is meek, he saw that she called you a whore. He read that you threw yourself at him to trap him.

"I did. Only because the men at the club told me to" he answers honestly. "I told them that what she wrote was wrong. That yes our marriage was unexpected but not an entrapment"

"Did they believe you?"

"Yes, after I told that I am very satisfied with my future wife. How lucky I am to have such a gorgeous lady share my house, such a smart lady in my life. They wouldn't dare question me or us" his words shock you. You didn't know if he was satisfied with you or your engagement. There hadn't been a conversation about it but you're happy to hear he doesn't resent you.

Harry seems to read your mind and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, he lets his hand fall to your shoulder after.

"She called me a whore, a seductress. I've never even let a suitor hug me... Much less seduced one" his eyes bore into you. They are enchanting and so inviting. You want him to look at you this way always like you're the only thing he could ever look at so attentively.

"That's what she does... Last season she almost destroyed Lady Eloise Bridgerton... You haven't met her yet but she didn't leave her manor for the rest of the season" his hand is rubbing from shoulder to shoulder, pinky finger grazing the very top of your breasts at each movement. You don't move or break the eye contact it feels good.

"The ton eats her words up but don't waste time thinking about what she thinks, she is a coward saying all of this nonsense anonymously" he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"So there is no Lady Whistledown in the ton? Is it an alias?" your questions stays unanswered but it is obvious that is what he was saying. No one knows who she is or rather who they are.

Harry's hand has travelled lower without you even noticing he's gone past the water and travels from your chest to your stomach. It seems casual and natural like you've done this a million times before.

Silence stretches as you take in the small amount of information about this person who spreads false claims about you and the man currently exploring your body.

He is now going up and down your legs switching legs once in a while. You don't know what he's doing or why he's doing it but it feels so intimate... so good that you don't stop him, you don't want him to.

You will bear his heirs and pleasure him when he wants you to but what he is doing now seems to actually pleasure you. His fingers graze your core and you gasp as the sensation takes you by surprise. This breaks the trance he had been in as he rips his hand away from your body and out of the water then out of the room before you can even get a single word out.

You finished your bath shortly after with your skin still tingling from where Harry had touched you. The ghost of his fingertips exploring places no one has touched not even yourself. You wanted to see how far he'd go, what he would do to you, how he would keep exploring your naked body. Seeking him out feels desperate but you have to know how far he was willing to take you. Was he just as affected by the intimacy? You knock at his chamber door softly praying that he doesn't reject you. "Come in" you hear him speak through the thick wooden door.

You quickly smooth out your sleeping gown before making your way into his chambers. This is the first time you've been in them, the amount of fabric, mannequins and art around the room surprises you. You had previously seen his work room where he designs and creates many different clothes but you had no idea he had more where he rests. You find Lord Styles lying on his large bed with one arm covering his eyes. He hasn't realized that's it you that's walked in yet so you take some time to look over his designs. You see some suits, daywear, and gowns of all kinds but then you stumble upon one that is called "My Bride". You pull it out from under some other sketches. The gown he's drawn is breathtaking, tight bodice detailed with what you think must be lace and gemstones, there's many layers of lace going downwards towards the bottom of the dress giving the impression of a flower that has not yet bloomed. He's added a simple shawl to the sketch which just adds to the elegance of the look.

"Would you make this dress for me?" your voice is loud in the otherwise quiet room. Harry startles on the bed, clearly not expecting you, sitting up quickly. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before looking at the paper you are holding.

"I can, if you want me to make it for you I will" he nods looking back up, studying your face.

"I'd like that" you smile "I'm much too ashamed to go back to the modistes anyway..." you put the drawing back down on his desk. At this point, you are only pretending to be looking around his space. Your goal is to make your way to his bed... try to get him to touch you again.

"There's no need for you to be ashamed. They should be ashamed, the ton is over-critical of newcomers" he leans back on his hands the now completely unbuttoned shirt falls off of his torso, revealing it.

"I suppose so... it's still disheartening to think that people think like that about me" you sigh walking towards him again. His eyes don't leave you he seems to be analyzing you, your actions, your body, everything.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" he tilts his head in thought, "Threaten anyone who looks at you wrongly? Find this Lady Whistledown and burn her out of existence?"

"You..." Okay, deep breaths, this is when you'll make your move, "You can touch me again... Keep doing what you were doing?" the pitch of your voice is much higher than usual as you finish your suggestion. You avoid meeting his gaze, too embarrassed to look at his reaction.

What you hear isn't an answer but the sound of him moving on his bed, towards you? God, you hope so. You still don't totally understand what his touch made you feel or why it has you craving for more. You don't even really know what "more" means.

"I wouldn't want to ruin you as some say" he guides your head towards him, forcing you to meet his eyes, so intense and inviting.

"Well, they already think you have... I just want you to make me feel good" You don't back down keep your eyes on his.

"Have you ever made yourself feel good?" Harry's voice is deeper than you've ever heard, it sends a shiver down your spine.

You shake your head as an answer, the ability to speak lost when he placed his hands on your hips. He tugs you forward, bringing you so much closer to him it makes you flush. He hums in understanding, still debating if he should do this or not... but the look on your face, the curiosity and the neediness makes his decision very easy.

He gently pulls you to lay down on his luxurious bed, the silky sheets and soft mattress feel glorious. You could stay in his bed all day long.

"Don't you resent me? I cut your first courting season quite short" he gently pecks your cheek before gliding across your lips to do the same to the other. You unconsciously follow his lips trying to have them meet yours again, you're already in a mental fog of pleasure and he's barely touched you.

"Can't answer, doll? Mh... don't worry I'll make you feel good" That's when he kisses you. Properly.

You let him take complete control as you've never kissed anyone. You don't want to make it unenjoyable for him or yourself so you follow his lead. His hands slowly bunch your nightgown up revealing more and more skin, skin that he is now seeing for the second time. He separates from your lips to look down at you, to admire your figure. Goosebumps spread all over as he delicately rubs his hands up and down your thighs spreading them apart adding him in lying down between them.

His face is inches away from your most private parts. Parts that have never been seen by anyone but your aids when getting dressed or cleaned. To aid him you didn't put any underclothing on, hoping he would accept your request. So, he's staring directly at you, making you flush from embarrassment.

"You want me to do this, gorgeous, you're sure?" your eyes meet his. His expression is unreadable, you've never had someone look at you like that. Like he wants to eat you whole.

"Please Duke Styles" you answer in a soft voice, he smirks at your answer and immediately gets to work.

What you're feeling is something completely new, foreign, unbelievably good; The curl of your toes as his mouth meets the skin you've never even explored yourself, the arch your body does and the loud gasp that slips past your lips. Who knew you could feel this way? Why did no one tell you that you could feel so unbelievably good?

Your hands grab onto the edges of the pillow you're lying on and you try to meet his gaze or maybe just to see what he's doing looks like.

Harry's eyes are already on you, your gazes meet easily, his pupils are dilated and his brows furrowed. He's so concentrated...

His tongue circles your clit sucking at it before letting his free hand join. His middle finger teases your entrance, not wanting to take your purity, he'll be somewhat of a gentleman and keep that for the wedding night.

"Ah! Harry" you moan desperately, desperate for something you don't even know, begging for him to keep going. You have an urge to shut your legs together but Harry's pushes onto your left one, keeping it pinned to the mattress.

The hand that was teasing your hole slowly goes up your nightgown, touching your skin delicately as he works his way up to grab your breast. His hand is warm on your chest, grabbing and massaging the skin he reaches.

He uses your slight distraction to prod his tongue inside of you exploring the few inches he's able to reach. Maybe exploring your inside isn't so bad... You'll be married no matter what happens...

His hand leaves your chest and makes its way back down, circling your bud. He can feel how close you are so he zeroes in. Lost in your pleasure and on his quest to make you feel good. Make you forget about the judgement the ton regards you with. He pinches your clit making your body lock up and your breath hitch but Harry doesn't stop. He keeps going until your whole body is spasming against his mattress until you're unable to make a sound with your mouth agape in pleasure.

You don't feel anything besides the tingling going from the tip of your fingers to the tip of your toes and the ends of your hair. Your heartbeat slowly stops being so erratic and your breathing calms down. As you start wondering where Harry has gone you feel a damp cloth rubbing against your intimates. You shiver at the feeling, obviously still sensitive, flinching when he gets close to your sensitive bud.

"How do you feel, my lady?" Harry's voice is soft and tender. Probably trying to preserve the warm atmosphere around both of you.

You hum positively as an answer, words lost as you meet his intense gaze.

"Cats got your tongue?" his tone is teasing. He throws the cloth away and joins you on the bed. You shake your head with a smile.

"I'm lost in thought" is the first thing you say to him, "I will be for a while after that" you sigh dreamily as you get comfortable in his sheets.

"Mh, maybe we should rush the wedding, get the Queens blessing for her diamond to wed in a rush... you won't speak a week after what I'll do to you" You just might have to march into the royal palace first thing in the morning.

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Over the Limit - pt.v

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

summary: An unlikely group forms—did someone say road trip?

word count: 10.8k

a/n: It's officially been a month since I've started posting Over the Limit on Tumblr! Thank you everyone for the overwhelming amount of support💚

————

How are weekends meant to look for the average 20-year old? Finally sleeping in after having a week of 8am classes? Scrambling to your job that funds all your stupid vices? Maybe it was stressing over picking the sluttiest outfit you can wear since you had a frat party and needed all eyes on you?

That realm of life seemed impossible for you. When you’re from Brimstone you don’t have the privilege of worrying about those things—no, instead on this fine Saturday morning you’re groggily rubbing your eyes open at 6am, while Hunter is panicking about the land lord who’s five seconds away from knocking the door down.

“Dude just answer,” you say annoyed, you could barely sleep last night and the last thing you needed was this antsy land lord playing drums on the door.

“I fucking can’t!” Hunter whisper yells, crouching down to your position on the floor where you had slept the night prior. “He’s gonna hand me an eviction notice when he sees me!”

And that is how your weekend begins when you’re from Brimstone.

After ignoring the loud knocks for some time, the land lord left grumbling angry curses at Hunter.

“So you’re backed up on two months of rent?” you ask, learning the information from the man that was once outside the door.

The older guy sighs with a nod, “Yeah, you know how it is. I haven’t been getting much races lately. I should’ve put a wager on you when you raced that Blond douche,” he says with a hollow chuckle.

You frown. You know exactly how it is. It’s not rare for you to walk into the garage and hear the whispers of unhappy Sinners about their pay cut.

Race clubs had their own economy. The quickest way for racers to make money was by paying an entry fee to compete, with the total pool going to the winning racer or crew. Crews like the Sinners also occasionally hosted parties, collecting entry fees to boost their earnings.

But gambling was the bread and butter—side bets, wagers, and deals made on the outcome of races. Anyone could place a bet, whether it was on their own crew or against them, but most of the money came from outsiders: third-party crews or devoted townspeople.

And then there was the fastest, most dangerous way to make cash.

“Didn’t you have a sponsor?” you asked.

Hunter's jaw tightened, and a shadow of bitterness crossed his face. "Yeah, I did. But things went south," he muttered. "Sponsors aren't what they used to be. They're too caught up in politics, or they want a cut so big it's not worth the payout."

You nodded, understanding that finding and keeping a sponsor was a double-edged sword. While they offered financial stability and access to better equipment, they came with strings attached—controlling interests, unwanted appearances, and expectations that sometimes choked a racer's freedom. You had to be in at least the top 5% of racer's to even be considered by a sponsor, and Hunter was just that good. But that lifestyle was clearly not worth it for him. You don't blame him, you've heard the stories of sponsor's having crazy asks for their prodigies.

"You'd be a sponsor's dream you know?" he suddenly says.

You quirk a brow up, not knowing how so.

"You're a great racer, you get along well with the rich, you're submissive—

"I am not submissive!"

————

After some more banter with Hunter you finally proceed with your morning and freshen up. As you're standing in front of the bathroom sink, wondering how you're going to brush your teeth, you noticed two toothbrushes in the holder.

Hunter lived alone.

Not knowing the origins of the second toothbrush and not willing to risk it, you opted to brush your teeth using your finger, and splashed some cool water on your face, trying to chase away the exhaustion and pull yourself together.

As you stared at your reflection in the mirror, a chill slid down your spine. Shock had a strange way of altering a person’s expression—jaw locked, eyes hardened, gaze steely. The revelations of last night were etched into your face like battle scars.

You were scared. Everything you heard last night was real—things that will directly impact you and your loved ones. It wasn’t just some joke, it was real life. And about your father...ever since the revelations of last night, it's been weighing on you—if you should tell your mom about the foul play in her husband’s death. How do you even tell someone that?

Your hands tightened around the edge of the sink, water dripping off your face and pooling on the counter. You thought about how it didn't shock you more to learn that your father’s death was no accident. Did that make you a terrible daughter? You thought of Anton, always armed, always prepared for whatever might come his way. Of course this life was brutal. Your father had been a founder, a leader—how could it not be dangerous?

But who wanted your father dead?

That was rather the question that gnawed at you, digging deeper with every passing second. Who could have wanted him gone, and why? Your fingers clenched the porcelain sink harder, the tremor in your hands matched by the anger coursing through you. And then the tears came undone, streaking down your face and mingling with the water already on the counter.

“Y/n?” Hunter’s voice cut through the fog of your mind, followed by a knock on the bathroom door. “Hey, you okay in there?”

You sucked in a shaky breath, fighting to steady yourself. Now was not the time nor place for breaking down.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you called out, forcing your voice into something resembling normalcy. You wiped your face with the back of your hand and swung the door open. Hunter stood there, a towel draped over his arm, eyes shadowed with worry.

He frowned as you brushed past him, taking the towel and pressing it to your damp face. The silence hung between you.

Hunter’s gaze followed you as you moved, his eyes full of questions. “Y/n, look” he started his voice soft, hesitant, as if he was afraid that speaking too loudly would shatter you. "I don't know what's going on with you. But I know it's a lot. I already know that Jenna is a Viper and now this Ghost Smoke shit. You can talk to me about whatever you're dealing with if you want."

You paused, towel clenched in your fists, staring blankly at the wall. The weight of everything threatened to crush you, but you felt the warmth of Hunter’s hand as he reached out, resting it on your shoulder. That simple touch was enough to crack the fragile shield you’d tried so hard to maintain.

Tears welled up again, this time falling freely. Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out, each one tugging at the raw wound inside you. “Hunter, I don't know what to do.”

He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a firm embrace. The warmth and steadiness of him anchored you as you broke down, sobs shaking your frame.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his hand gently rubbing your back. “We’ll figure this out, I promise. You’re not alone.”

The floodgates opened, and you told him everything—how you met Jenna, her request to find dirt on Percy, your dad supposedly wanting out of the Sinners, and the revelation that Bullet and Apex weren’t just names, but legacies tied to betrayal and death. Hunter listened in silence, holding you tight, his own expression darkening with every word.

In that moment, the fear and uncertainty didn’t vanish, but they felt a little more bearable. You had someone who knew, someone who would stand by you.

————

You and Hunter sat side by side on his worn couch, the late morning sun casting a soft light through the window. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable now; it was a shared reprieve after an outpouring of truths.

Hunter leaned back, one arm resting along the back of the couch, the other in the bag of chips he pulled out for you two. Your breakfast. He let out a breath, shaking his head slowly. “So, Jenna came to you with this whole thing about Percy and the Ghost Smoke operation, and you just… jumped in? Talk about submissive.”

You punch his shoulder lightly, and managed a small smile, the relief of finally sharing the truth giving your chest room to breathe. “I didn’t think it would spiral like this,” you admitted. “It was supposed to be simple—find out what Percy was up to, help Jenna. But now, with what we know...”

Hunter’s eyes darkened as he nodded. “It’s more than just racing politics. It’s deeper, more dangerous.” He glanced at you, concern still etched into his features. “And you’re sure Anton has no idea you’re involved?”

The question hung heavy between you, but you felt more grounded now. You nodded. “For now, he doesn’t. But I don’t know how long that will last.”

A sudden thought crossed your mind, and you straightened. “Do you think Mikey knows Jenna is with the Vipers?”

Hunter shrugged, "She give you any reason to think that?"

"She was just... observant man. The other day—when we went on the drive. She remembered the Aston from the footage she saw of me and Jenna. Said something about how it was the car I rolled in with 'my girl' in."

Hunter’s smirk returned, and he nudged you again, playfulness edging out the tension. “Maybe she’s paying close attention because she’s totally into you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered. “I’m being serious, Hunter.”

“Alright, alright,” Hunter said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But on that note... we need to talk about the Aston.”

You frowned, a hint of confusion crossing your face. “What about it?”

Hunter leaned forward, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by seriousness. “Think about it. We crashed that meeting last night and got caught snooping around. The only lead they have on us is the car. They know we escaped in the AM. If they’re looking for anything, it’ll be that.”

Fuck he was right.

"I say we demolish it. Scrap it for parts or something."

"—no!" you exclaim interrupting his thought. "I'll find a place to have it stashed. Don't worry."

The older guy squinted his eyes in confusion. You were a mechanic, you never got attached to your cars. You knew better than anyone that cars come and go. Yet you couldn't let go of this one.

————

Being a mechanic had its perks, and one of the best was the network of wealthy clientele you’d built over the years. If someone had enough money to buy a custom-built, fully modded car from you, chances were they also had plenty of land—land that could discreetly store a car like yours. Now, you just had to hope their generosity matched the size of their bank accounts.

You stepped out onto the balcony as you scroll through your phone, siffling through your contacts.

"Hmm, maybe John might help me out," you mummer to yourself pressing call.

John was one of your more calm clients. He was the proud new owner of a 1969 Ford Mustang Mach 1. You’d delivered the car just over a month ago—the same night Anton nearly gave you a heart attack by pulling a mock robbery, complete with a gun pointed at you. You shook the memory from your mind, focusing instead on the call as it began to ring.

You first engaged with some small talk before you asked him for help. For all you knew he was a sponsor involved in some shady shit, maybe even involved in Ghost Smoke. Is this what paranoia is?

"I hope there's no complaints about the Mustang," you laugh lightly.

"No complaints Y/n."

"Amazing...so I actually need a favour," you said, leaning on the balcony railing. “I’ve got a car I need to tuck away for a while. Somewhere discreet. Think you could help?”

There was a brief pause, then a hum of consideration. “Hmm, yeah, I’ve got a lake house not too far from here. You can stash it there. No one will bother it.”

“Appreciate it. I’ll swing by later today.”

“Anytime kid,” he said before the call ended.

You exhaled, relief washing over you. One less problem to worry about—for now.

————

After letting Hunter know you’d secured a spot for the car, you set out for the address John had texted. The drive felt almost reflective, the Aston Martin humming beneath you like it understood the significance of this moment. Arriving at the secluded lake house, you carefully parked the car— the car that had genuinely started it all for you.

The Uber ride back to Hunter's was quiet, except for occasional small talk with the driver and faint chatter of the radio. You leaned your head against the window, letting the scenery blur as you reflected on everything that had unfolded.

Your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. Hunter’s name flashed on the screen. You swiped to answer.

"Hey," you greeted.

"Hey, where are you?" Hunter's voice was calm but direct.

"In an Uber. On my way back to yours."

"Cool, change of plans. Head to Brenda’s Diner instead."

You frowned, the name clicking in your memory. "Brenda’s? That’s in the next city, like forty minutes away. Why there?"

"Just meet me. We’ll grab breakfast, Hunter said nonchalantly. "I’m almost there already,"

Your confusion deepened, your brows furrowing. "Why are you suddenly all the way out there? And why can’t we eat closer to your place?"

He sighed, "Jenna texted me, okay? She asked me to come here, so I’m here. So just come.”

You blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what? Jenna texted you? Why does she even have your number?"

Hunter chuckled lightly, clearly amused by your confusion. "Relax, Y/n. Just come here. Who knows, maybe she’ll butter your biscuits or drizzle your pancakes."

"Excuse me—what?" you sputtered, but before you could say more, he hung up, leaving you staring at your phone in disbelief.

You slumped back in the seat, your mind racing. What in the actual hell is going on?

————

“Thank you sir," you say as you get out the Uber. You squint your eyes as you take in the red and yellow sign that said that read Brenda’s. Even the sun shined brighter in this town, from what you knew the town you were currently in—Countsville, wasn’t tainted with race crews and class differences. It was an average suburban town.

You couldn’t help but wonder why Jenna had called you here of all places. Did she have some secret life here? A hidden family? The absurd thought made you chuckle under your breath as you shook your head.

Pulling out your phone, you caught your reflection in the camera and quickly fixed your hair. A pang of nervousness hit you out of nowhere, making you hesitate. Why were you even nervous? Shaking off the feeling, you squared your shoulders and stepped inside.

“Ah, there she is! Y/n!” Hunter’s voice boomed, his arm shooting into the air to wave you over like you were lost in a crowd.

Your eyes darted to him, already settled comfortably in a booth, and then to the two women seated across from him—Jenna and the girl from last night. The one whose name you still didn’t know.

Your steps slowed as their hushed conversation came to an abrupt halt. Without a word, you slid into the booth next to Hunter.

Hunter leaned back in the booth, a smirk playing on his lips. “Took you long enough. Thought maybe you needed a treasure map to find this place.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpanned. Your gaze darted to Jenna, sitting across from you with her arms crossed and her focus firmly planted on the coffee in front of her. She didn’t even glance up when you sat down.

The girl sitting next to her, however—was the complete opposite. She was all smiles, her gaze bouncing between you and Jenna like she was waiting for something to happen between you both.

“Uh, hey. I don’t think we’ve been introduced?” you said, leaning forward slightly.

“I’m Aliyah,” she replied, her grin widening as she reached across the table, hand outstretched.

You took it, chuckling softly. “Nice to meet you.”

Aliyah’s smile turned teasing. “I’m Jenna’s sister.”

“Sister?!” Your jaw dropped as you let go of her hand, the word practically punching its way out of your mouth. Was she a Viper too? Did you get caught up in a family of snakes?

“Well it's nice to meet you,” you muttered, your attention flickering to Jenna. “So, uh, what’s this all about?” You doubt she invited you here to introduce you to her family.

Nothing. Not a word. Jenna’s silence was loud, deafening even, as she swirled her spoon in her coffee like you weren’t even there.

Hunter glanced between the two of you, clearly picking up on the tension. “Oh, this is fun. Should I just grab some popcorn, or…?”

You shot him a glare. “Not helping.”

“Not trying,” he quipped, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Anyway, why don’t you ask Jenna why we’re here? She’s the mastermind behind this little breakfast summit.”

You turned back to her, trying again. “Jenna?”

Still nothing.

“Seriously?” you asked, the irritation creeping into your voice. “You’re just going to ignore me?”

Jenna finally looked up, her expression cool and indifferent. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you talking to me? Hard to tell when you’ve been acting like I don’t exist for the past few days.”

Hunter snorted, barely holding back a laugh. “She got you there.”

You sighed, sinking back into your seat. This wasn’t what you had anticipated. Sure, you figured she’d be upset about you ghosting her, but you thought you’d moved past that. Last night at the meeting, it felt like you’d reached some kind of unspoken understanding. Yet here she was now, stone-faced and silent, her cold shoulder speaking louder than words.

“Anyways, can we get some actual food in here before someone combusts?”

Aliyah snickered, clearly amused by the dynamic. “Sure, Hunter. Anything to save the day.” She turned her attention to you. “You have to try these pancakes, Brenda’s makes the best pancakes in town!"

Jenna muttered under her breath, just loud enough for you to catch. “Probably too busy to eat pancakes these days.”

Your jaw clenched, but you forced yourself to stay calm. This wasn’t the time or place to start something. Instead, you turned to Aliyah, doing your best to ignore Jenna’s jab. “Yeah, pancakes sound good. Let’s do it.”

Hunter raised his hand to flag down a server. “Pancakes for the table, and maybe a side of good vibes, yeah?”

————

For the past 20 minutes, the table had been quietly enjoying their pancakes, the clinking of cutlery filling the gaps in conversation. You caught Hunter sneaking a glance at your plate, his eyes drifting to the fluffy stack of pastries and then to the glass jar of maple syrup conveniently sitting right next to Jenna. With a sly grin, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, clearly not letting his earlier joke die.

Aliyah finally broke the silence, her voice cutting through the calm. "Alright, since Jenna's committed to this whole silent act, I guess I’ll get us started. Last night was absolutely insane, and I think we seriously need to talk about everything we learned."

You frowned, glancing between the two girls across from you. “Wait, we? What do you mean, we?”

Aliyah looked at you like you’d asked a ridiculous question. “I mean we, as in all of us sitting here. Jenna, Hunter, me—you. We’re in this now.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your brow furrowing deeper. “But… Jenna got her dirt on Percy, didn’t she? That’s what all this was supposed to be about. What more does she have to do with any of this?”

The words came out sharper than you intended, and for the first time since you’d arrived, Jenna’s eyes snapped up to meet yours. Her expression was calm but laced with a distinct edge—and some hurt?

“Are you serious?” she said, setting her coffee cup down with a soft clink. “You think I can just walk away now?”

“Why not?” you shot back. “You wanted proof of what Percy was doing, and you got it. That’s what you asked me to help you with. This whole Ghost Smoke thing—it’s not your problem.”

Jenna’s jaw tightened, and her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, it looked like she was biting back a retort. Aliyah, however, was quick to jump in.

“It’s everyone’s problem,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the tension. “Ghost Smoke isn’t just some petty racing drama, Y/n. It’s destroying lives, and if the Vipers start pushing it harder, it’s going to get worse. Way worse.”

Hunter nodded, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced by something more serious. “Aliyah’s right. Last night wasn’t just some casual run-in with Percy’s people. That dealer wasn’t joking around, and you saw how he talked about the ‘boss.’ They’re planning something big.”

You leaned back in your seat, the weight of their words sinking in. But still, a part of you couldn’t shake the nagging thought that none of this should fall on Jenna—or you, for that matter.

"I don't want you two getting involved," you said, your tone flat and detached, though the tightness in your chest betrayed the storm underneath. You stared at your plate, pushing a piece of pancake around with your fork, avoiding their eyes.

Jenna scoffed, the sound sharp and cutting. “Are you serious right now? You don’t want us involved? After everything last night?”

Your gaze remained fixed downward, even as her frustration bristled against you. “It’s not your fight,” you muttered.

“Not my—?” Jenna’s voice rose, and you finally looked up to see her glaring at you, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “You don’t get to make that call! You think you can just decide when you want me around and when you don't? Newsflash—you’re already in deep, and so are we. There’s no undoing it now.”

You stayed silent, your jaw clenching as you tried to tamp down the surge of emotions threatening to surface. She wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand.

You couldn’t drag them further into a world where people are pushing drugs—where people are capable of taking lives, just like they had taken your father’s and uncle's.

“It doesn’t matter why,” you said finally, your voice still low. “I just… I don’t want you involved. Either of you. That’s all.”

Jenna let out an incredulous laugh, throwing her hands in the air. “Unbelievable," she muttered, pushing back her chair abruptly and standing up, her frustration was palpable as she strode toward the diner’s exit.

You watched her leave, a pang of guilt twisting in your stomach. Hunter sighed beside you, leaning back in his seat.

“She’s not wrong, you know,” he said quietly. “You can’t do this alone. They were there last night. As much as you don't it to be true, they're now part of it.”

You didn’t respond, the weight of your own thoughts pressing down too heavily. Even though your intentions were to protect them, you couldn’t help but feel like you were only making things worse.

————

"If you grip the wheel any harder, it’s going to fuse with your hands," Aliyah quipped, casting a cautious glance at her sister.

Jenna shot her a sharp side-eye but said nothing, her focus fixed on the road ahead as they made their way home.

When it became clear that Jenna wasn’t going to return to the table, Aliyah had reluctantly followed her, leaving behind the unfinished business that had brought them all together in the first place.

“I don’t get it,” Aliyah said, breaking the silence. “I thought you two were fine last night. What’s with the sudden mood swing?”

Jenna’s grip on the wheel tightened even further, her knuckles white against the leather. She thought she had been fine too. Last night, things had felt different—maybe not perfect, but at least... manageable. But seeing you again today had stirred something raw and unexpected inside her.

It's not your problem, you said.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, her voice strained, as though admitting it hurt.

"Well I don't think your girl—sorry Y/n had any bad intentions. And if you really want to get involved in this Brimstone drama, then you have to make up with her eventually" Aliyah said, her tone gentler now.

Jenna let out a slow breath through her nose, her eyes never leaving the road. “It’s not that simple,” she murmured. “She ghosted me, Aliyah. And now she’s acting like she has to carry everything on her own, like I can’t handle myself. She wanted me around at first and now she decides I'm out? Oh I'm sorry I wasn't aware I was some fucking doll.”

“Or,” Aliyah countered, “maybe she’s terrified of something way bigger than you realize and doesn’t want to drag you—us into it.”

That struck a nerve. Jenna’s fingers twitched against the steering wheel as she mulled over her sister’s words. Was it fear? Was that why you were pushing her away? Her frustration softened slightly, but the knot in her chest didn’t loosen.

“Even if that’s true, she’s going about it the wrong way,” Jenna said after a moment. “I can’t help if she keeps shutting me out.”

Aliyah smirked faintly, crossing her arms. “So tell her that. You’re not the type to sit around and wait for someone else to fix things, right? Go confront her, like the fiery little Viper you are.”

Jenna rolled her eyes at her sister’s teasing, but the words stayed with her. Maybe Aliyah was right—waiting wasn’t getting her anywhere, and the Brimstone situation wasn’t something she could handle without you. As much as she hated to admit it, you were already too entangled with one another for her to pretend otherwise.

She exhaled sharply, determination taking root. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll figure it out. But if she tries to pull some shit on me again, I won't hold back."

Aliyah grinned. “Now that’s the Jenna I know.”

Aliyah sighed in relief, glad her words had managed to ease her sister’s frustration. She could have kept up the teasing, sure, but she knew better. Deep down, she understood the root of Jenna’s anger—it wasn’t just about the danger or the argument at breakfast.

You weren’t wrong, after all. As far as Aliyah knew, the terms of whatever arrangement you and Jenna had were clear: you’d help her get what she needed, and once she had it, that was that. Simple, transactional, with no strings attached. But that simplicity seemed to be the very thing eating at Jenna now.

It wasn’t just frustration; it was hurt. Hurt because Jenna realized you seemed okay with it all ending there—with the two of you going your separate ways. And it wasn’t okay for her. Aliyah could see it—the sadness in Jenna’s eyes, the way her jaw clenched just a bit tighter than usual. It wasn’t about the Ghost Smoke or Brimstone drama anymore. It was about you.

Her sister wasn’t mad at you for walking away. She was sad that you didn’t seem to need her the way she found herself needing you. Sad that she no longer had a reason to stay connected.

Aliyah glanced at her sister, who was staring straight ahead, her grip on the wheel lighter now but still firm. Jenna didn’t want to admit it, not yet, but she was falling. And Aliyah could only hope she didn’t hit the ground too hard.

As Aliyah mindlessly glanced at her side view mirror, she noticed something.

"Uhm sis, do you think that car's been following us?"

Jenna raises her gaze up to the rear view mirror and she spotted the same car that had been trailing them for a while now—a solid black Escalade. But California traffic is like that, the typical resident wasn't going to lane change like a racer. "I'm sure it's nothing."

Still, to be safe, she made a series of deliberate right turns, one after the other, her pulse quickening with each corner. When she glanced at the mirror again, her fears solidified. The car was still there.

“It’s not nothing, Ali. They are following us,” Jenna said, her voice low but tinged with rising panic.

Aliyah stiffened beside her, her wide eyes darting to the side mirror. “W-what? Who do you think it is? Percy? Or those guys from yesterday?”

Jenna’s jaw clenched as she considered their options.

"Aliyah, call Y/n. Now," Jenna ordered, her voice steady, tossing her phone to her sister.

Aliyah fumbled with the phone, her fingers trembling. “What do I even say? ‘Hey, someone’s following us, want to join the party?’” she muttered nervously, trying to mask her fear.

Jenna shot her a sharp look. “Just tell her where we are and what’s happening. She’ll know what to do.”

Aliyah hesitated for a split second before dialing your number. “It's ringing.” Aliyah whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

"Jenna?"

The girl driving couldn't help but feel relief upon the sound of your voice, maybe it was because you both have faced many high stakes situations together and have always made it out on the other side. And in that moment, she felt certain you’d all make it through this one too.

“Okay, so, there’s this car, and it’s been following us for a while. Jenna took a bunch of right turns, and they’re still there. We don’t know who they are, but—”

“Aliyah,” you interrupted, your tone sharp with focus. “Put Jenna on.”

Aliyah quickly handed the phone over, and Jenna brought it to her ear without taking her eyes off the rearview mirror.

“Jenna, can you lose them?” you asked, voice soft, sensing her hesitation.

“I-I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I’ve never done this before—what if I mess up? What if—”

“Jenna,” you interrupted gently, but firmly. “Take a deep breath. You’ve got this. But I need you to help me help you, okay? What’s up ahead?”

Jenna blinked, her focus flicking back to the road. “Uh, there’s a left turn coming up, and... a main road with a lot of traffic.”

“Alright, take the left. Make it clean.”

She nodded, her hands slightly shaky as she turned the wheel, the tires squealing lightly.

“Good,” you encouraged. “Now tell me what’s next. What do you see?”

“There’s an on-ramp to the highway coming up,” she said, her voice tight with nerves.

“Perfect. Get on the highway. Blend into traffic and use the cars to block their line of sight.”

“Okay,” she whispered, guiding the car toward the ramp as Aliyah sat rigid in her seat.

“You’re doing great, Jenna,” you said, keeping your voice calm and steady. “Just focus. You’re faster and smarter than them. Trust yourself.”

Jenna weaved into traffic, her grip still tight on the wheel. She glanced in the rearview mirror and tensed. “They’re still back there.”

“Stay calm,” you said. “What’s in your lane? Any big vehicles?”

“Yeah... there’s a semi up ahead,” she replied, her voice rising with nervous energy.

“Good. Get in its blind spot. Use it as cover. When you’re close to an exit, slip off. They’ll have to stay on the highway.”

She exhaled shakily, maneuvering into position as you guided her through. The tension in the car was thick, but she followed your instructions to the letter.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you said softly.

Jenna swerved off the highway, her heart pounding as the pursuing car sped past the exit.

“They’re gone,” she whispered, her voice thick with disbelief.

“You did it, Jenna,” you said, pride clear in your tone.

She let out a shaky laugh, her shoulders finally relaxing. “We did it,” she corrected, a small smile tugging at her lips.

The line went silent for a moment, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. Then, breaking the tension, your voice cut through with a sudden, determined tone.

“Jenna, listen. Can you go home, pack a bag for you and Aliyah, and meet me and Hunter at the mall we went to?”

Jenna’s brow furrowed in confusion. Moments ago, you were adamant about keeping her out of your life, and now you were asking her to pack a bag? She glanced at Aliyah, whose puzzled expression mirrored her own.

Aliyah shrugged dramatically, mouthing, “YOLO.”

“Why?” Jenna asked, her tone cautious.

“I’ll explain everything when we meet. Just trust me and do it, okay?”

Jenna hesitated, her mind racing with questions, but something in your voice made her pause. Finally, she exhaled. “Okay. We’ll meet you there.” And hung up the phone.

“Well, would you look at that—your little lover’s quarrel is finally wrapping up,” Aliyah teased, her grin wide.

“Shut up,” Jenna shot back, though the corners of her lips betrayed her as they curved into a reluctant smile. “I’m still mad at her.”

————

“You two are so confusing,” Hunter chuckled as he drove, his laughter filling the car. “Do you hate each other? Or are you about to jump each other’s bones? Seriously, I can never tell.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you couldn’t help but think he had a point.

“So, care to explain why we’re all packing a bag and meeting up with them again?” Hunter asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

“We’re going on a weekend getaway,” you replied nonchalantly.

Hunter’s head whipped toward you, excitement lighting up his face. “No way! I’ve always wanted to do the Bahamas.”

You laughed. “Not the Bahamas, Hunt. Just somewhere a few hours away. After everything that went down—the meeting, the girls being followed—I think it’s smart for all of us to lay low for a few days. I’m not taking any chances.”

Hunter nodded dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he was pledging allegiance. “Protecting your girl and your sister-in-law. I respect it.”

Ignoring his teasing, you redirected him. “Just drive us to the garage,” you said firmly. “I need to let Anton know we’ll be out of town for a few days. The last thing I need is him freaking out and sending a search party.”

————

As Hunter pulls into the garage, you take in the sight of the Sinners hard at work, each one laser-focused on their tasks. Was there a race coming up?

Stepping out of the car, your eyes land on Anton at the back, working on a car with Mason. You hadn't seen Mason in a while—not since the Sinner-Viper race nearly two months ago. Not that you missed him; Mason was one of the most aggravating members of the crew. Apparently, Anton in the moment thought so too, judging by the way he was yelling at him for some reason.

"Hey! Long time, no see."

You turned to see Mikey approaching, her brown eyes bright with curiosity.

She tilted her head, eyes scanning both you and Hunter. "So, what have you two been up to?"

"Oh, you know," Hunter chimed in, "just the usual. Saving the day and eating pancakes"

Mikey raised a brow, her skepticism softened by amusement. “Uh-huh. Sounds like you two are living the dream.”

She shifted her attention to you, crossing her arms. “Haven’t seen you around for a few days. No more late nights at the garage?”

You felt a flicker of unease. Something about Mikey always made you cautious, as if she could see right through you. Keeping your tone casual, you rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah, the Aston’s finished, so I’m finally catching up on sleep. Not much reason to be here right now.”

Mikey tilted her head, clearly not satisfied with your vague answer. “Really? And here I thought this place was your second home. What’s been keeping you busy?”

Before you could formulate a response, Hunter swooped in. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re not slacking off. We’re just gearing up for a little road trip.”

“Road trip?” Mikey repeated, her interest clearly piqued.

Hunter nodded, grinning. “Yeah, figured it’s time for some fresh air and open roads. Recharge the batteries, you know?”

You shot him a subtle glare, but he just winked at you, unfazed.

Mikey narrowed her eyes slightly, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “Interesting. Well, have fun with that. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“Us? Trouble?” Hunter gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Never.”

"We actually came here to let Anton know we’ll be gone for a couple of days,” you say, flashing Mikey a polite smile. “Catch you later.” Without waiting for a response, you grab Hunter’s arm and drag him along.

“Would it kill you not to spill everything?” you hiss under your breath.

Hunter shrugged, his usual carefree grin firmly in place. “Relax. It’s gonna get out eventually that we’re taking a couple days off. If we act shady, it’ll just make people more suspicious.”

You sighed, shaking your head at his nonchalance. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Together, you made your way toward the back of the garage, where Anton and Mason were knee-deep in their latest project.

“I don’t know why I keep you around, Mason,” Anton groaned, his hands dragging down his face in exasperation. “You incompetent fool!”

Hearing your footsteps, he glanced up, his frustration momentarily melting into surprise. “Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” you greeted, keeping your tone light. “I'm kind of in a rush, but just wanted to let you know Hunter and I are heading out of town for a couple of days. Figured I’d let you know so you don’t worry.”

Anton’s brows furrowed as he straightened up, eyeing the both of you. “Heading out? What for?”

“Just a road trip,” you said casually, shrugging like it was no big deal. “You know, get some fresh air, clear our heads. Nothing major.”

His eyes flicked to Hunter, then back to you, his suspicion barely veiled. “Where to and who’s going?”

"We don't really know yet, wanna see where the road takes us you know? And just us two," you replied smoothly, lying without hesitation.

Anton’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he was going to press harder. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. But something feels off about this, and I don’t like it.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “If this is about something dangerous, you better tell me now. You know I’ll have your back.”

You swallowed hard but maintained your composure. “It’s not, I promise. We’ll be fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. Anton studied you for a moment longer before nodding, though his concern was evident. "Alright. Just be careful out there, okay? Keep your phones on and don't do anything stupid."

"Got it," you promised, trying to sound reassuring.

Hunter gave Anton a mock salute. "We'll be model citizens, swear."

Anton rolled his eyes but didn't press further. As you turned to leave, Mason chimed in from where he was leaning against the car. "Bring me back something cool! Like a souvenir or somethin'!"

Hunter snorted. "Sure thing, buddy. How about a map so you can finally figure out how to navigate a racetrack without crashing?"

You couldn't help but laugh as you walked away, though Anton's lingering concern weighed heavily in the back of your mind.

————

The SUV you “borrowed” from the garage rumbled along the highway as you adjusted your grip on the wheel, glancing at Hunter slouched comfortably in the passenger seat. Your packed bag sat in the back alongside his, evidence of your brief pit stop at home. 

The memory of Anton’s concerned expression lingered, gnawing at you. You hated that you hadn’t told him the truth. He’d lost his father too—same as you—and you knew better than anyone how much that loss shaped him. How much it shaped both of you. But unlike you, Anton didn’t know there was more to the story. That it wasn’t just a tragic accident.

You felt awful for keeping it from him, for standing there and letting him believe everything was fine. But what were you supposed to do? Drop that bombshell and then tell him you were heading out of town for a few days? There was no way he’d have let you leave. No way he wouldn’t try to step in, to get involved.

And as much as it tore you up inside, you couldn’t let that happen. Not yet. Protecting Jenna—and by extension, your fragile alliance with her—had to come first. There was too much at stake, and dragging Anton into it now would only complicate things further. Still, the weight of your silence felt heavier with each passing mile.

“You good?” Hunter’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, pulling you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you muttered, though the word felt hollow.

He raised a brow but didn’t push, thankfully. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, letting the conversation from earlier drift back in.

“I gotta admit. I thought Anton would take a lot more convincing.”

Hunter glanced at you with a smirk. “What, you thought he’d put his foot down? He knows you’re stubborn as hell. Probably figured there was no point fighting you on it.”

“Maybe,” you murmured, though a part of you wasn’t so sure. Anton letting you go that easily still didn’t sit right. He’d been wary, his words cautious, but ultimately, he hadn’t stopped you. You wondered if he trusted you more than you expected—or if he had reasons of his own for letting you leave.

Shaking the thought from your mind, you shifted the conversation. “By the way, you seemed pretty comfortable with Jenna and Aliyah back at the diner.”

Hunter shrugged nonchalantly. “They’re cool. Aliyah’s funny, and Jenna’s… well, Jenna. We were just chatting for a bit before you showed up.”

“Before I showed up?” you echoed, glancing at him skeptically. “She didn’t seem in a chatty mood when I got there.”

Hunter chuckled. “I guess I have that effect on people. Smooth-talker, remember?”

Something about the way he said it made you pause, a memory resurfacing. “Wait. Jenna texted you, didn’t she? How do you even know her?”

Hunter tensed ever so slightly, and you didn’t miss it. “Uh… well…”

The gears in your head were starting to turn. “Hunter,” you pressed, narrowing your eyes. “How do you know Jenna?”

He fidgeted with his hands, clearly stalling. “It’s complicated, alright? Don’t worry about it.”

Before you could demand an answer, the bright lights of the mall parking lot came into view, and you spotted Jenna and Aliyah parked and waiting near the back of the mall. Hunter exhaled dramatically, clearly relieved to be off the hook—for now.

"We're here," he announced unnecessarily, pointing out the obvious.

You rolled your eyes but focused on parking the SUV. As soon as you stepped out, Jenna's sharp gaze locked onto you, her arms crossed, while Aliyah waved with a cheeky grin. Whatever Hunter was hiding would have to wait.

You park the SUV next to their car and step out, heading straight for the trunk. Without a word, you pop it open before turning toward Jenna and Aliyah. Stretching out your hands, you motion for their bags.

Aliyah hands over her duffle bag without hesitation, but Jenna hesitates, squinting at you with suspicion. Her scoff cuts through the quiet as you turn around and load the bags into the trunk.

Following you to the back of the SUV, she crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. "Uhm, are you planning to explain what's going on anytime soon?"

You close the trunk with a sharp thunk and meet her gaze, keeping your tone steady. "I will."

You glance over your shoulder, flashing her a grin. "Oh, and hey—nice work shaking those guys. Not everyone's got those skills. Seriously, you were impressive."

As you turn back to the SUV, Jenna's voice comes softly, almost shyly, "Thanks."

You don't catch it, too focused on adjusting the bags in the trunk, but Aliyah and Hunter exchange knowing looks. Jenna's rare vulnerability wasn't something they saw often, and the faint pink dusting her cheeks didn't go unnoticed either.

————

You merge onto Interstate 5, the highway stretching south through California. The evening sun dips lower on the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of gold and fiery orange. Hunter has his window down, one arm draped lazily over the edge, while Aliyah hums along to a faint tune playing on the radio. Jenna sits diagonally across from you, arms crossed, her gaze fixed out the window. The soft pout on her lips and the sharpness of her glare suggest she’s deep in thought—and likely still mad at you.

You glance at her through the rearview mirror, unable to help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Even in her frustration, she looks ridiculously adorable.

As you bring your eyes back to the road, they flicker back to the mirror—and that’s when it happens. Jenna catches your gaze, her sharp brown eyes locking onto yours.

Crap.

She breaks the silence, her tone firm but tinged with curiosity. “Alright, enough stalling. Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

You’re relieved she doesn’t make a snarky comment about catching you staring. Instead, you sigh and focus back on the road, deciding it’s time to answer her question.

“I’m sorry,” you start, glancing briefly at her reflection, then at Aliyah. “To both of you. You were right earlier… about being involved in all this.”

Hunter nods in silent approval from the passenger seat, encouraging you to keep going. “…As much as I don’t want either of you involved,” you continue, catching him facepalming out of the corner of your eye, “there’s no avoiding it now.”

"Neither one of can help it, and that car following you? It kind of put things into perspective for me. So I think the safe option for all of us to get out of town for a few days."

Jenna raises a brow, her expression unreadable, but she doesn’t respond right away. Aliyah and Hunter both glance at each other, waiting for someone to fill the silence. When Jenna finally speaks, her voice is softer than you expected. “Still didn’t answer the question,” she says. “Where are we going?”

You shrug one shoulder, keeping your eyes on the road. “I don’t know,” you admit with a lopsided grin. “I’m just driving.”

Jenna stares at you for a long moment before exhaling and shaking her head. She doesn’t voice the acceptance of your apology, but something in her gaze softens, and you can tell she’s made her peace with it—for now.

“Unbelievable,” she mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear. “We’re on the run, and you’re winging it? Great plan, genius.”

Aliyah bursts into laughter, and Hunter cheers, “This is classic! Road trip roulette—who needs a destination when you’ve got vibes?” 

Jenna pinches the bridge of her nose, mumbling something under her breath, but you swear you catch the faintest hint of a smile.

————

The next hour passes surprisingly smoothly. Everyone keeps themselves entertained in their own way, avoiding any mention of the issues that pushed you all to leave town in the first place. Aliyah has her headphones in, swaying gently to whatever music she’s listening to, while Jenna scrolls through her phone, occasionally glancing out the window. Hunter fiddles with the radio, switching stations until he finds a faintly decent song, only to switch it again moments later.

You keep your focus on the road, but your mind drifts. A part of you wished you could bring back the easy banter you used to have with Jenna—back before you ghosted her. It would've made the drive so much more fun. Instead, there’s this quiet tension hanging in the air between you two, one you’re desperately hoping will dissolve sooner rather than later. At least Hunter agreed to take over driving on the way back. Maybe by then, things between you and Jenna will be better.

Suddenly, Hunter starts humming, his voice cutting through the silence. At first, it’s aimless, but then it takes shape.

“Ninety-nine bottles of milk on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of milk!” he sings loudly, grinning as he looks around at everyone.

You groan. “Oh, no. Don’t.”

Aliyah chuckles behind you, joining in softly, “Take one down, pass it around, ninety-eight bottles of milk on the wall!”

Jenna sighs dramatically but mutters, “This is so dumb,” just before she jumps in on the next line. Within minutes, the whole car erupts into an awkward yet oddly harmonious singalong, voices overlapping and laughter spilling between verses. By the time you hit ninety-five bottles, everyone’s belting at the top of their lungs.

It’s ridiculous, it’s cheesy, and it’s exactly what you all needed.

When the laughter finally dies down, Jenna clears her throat. “Uh, I need to pee.”

You glance at her through the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow. Internally, you can’t help but think, Really? We’ve only been on the road for an hour. Did she not go before we left?

But you don’t voice the thought. Instead, you nod, spotting a route stop up ahead. “Alright, we’ll pull over.”

As you exit the highway and roll into the rest stop, Hunter claps your shoulder. “Road trips, man. This is what it’s all about.”

You just shake your head, chuckling as you park the SUV.

————

As everyone steps out at the route stop, the golden light of the setting sun casts long shadows over the parking lot. Hunter stretches dramatically, mumbling something about his aching legs, while Aliyah is already darting toward the brightly lit convenience store, proclaiming her hunt for snacks. Jenna heads to the bathroom, and once she returns she lingers by the SUV, her arms folded, her body language closed.

“Need anything?” you ask, hesitating slightly as you approach her.

She shakes her head but doesn’t look at you. “I’m good.”

You nod, biting back the urge to say more, and join Aliyah and Hunter into the store. The shelves are stocked with everything from bags of chips to questionable gas station sushi.

Hunter immediately gravitates toward the candy aisle, gleefully holding up a pack of gummy worms. “You know you want some,” he teases, tossing a pack at Aliyah, who yelps and tries to dodge.

You chuckle at their antics but can’t help glancing back toward the SUV, wondering if Jenna’s still standing there, or if she’s wandered in.

She hasn’t.

Grabbing a couple of bottled drinks and a bag of chips, you head to the register. Aliyah sidles up beside you, arms full of snacks. “Do you think we should get something for Jenna? She barely ate earlier.”

You hesitate, and recall her eating a chocolate the day you both hung out at the mall and then grab that brand of chocolate from a display near the checkout.

Outside, you find Jenna leaning against the side of the car, scrolling through her phone. You hold out the candy as you approach. “Figured you might want this.”

She glances at it, then at you, her lips twitching like she’s suppressing a thank-you. “Thanks,” she says quietly, taking it without meeting your eyes.

There’s a pause. The others are still inside, their laughter faintly audible from the store. For a moment, it’s just you and Jenna in the fading light.

“You okay?” you ask softly, unsure if you’re even expecting an answer.

She finally meets your gaze, her expression guarded but not unkind. “I’m fine,” she replies, but her tone doesn’t match the words.

You want to push, to ask what’s really on her mind, but something about the way she holds herself stops you. Instead, you nod and step back, giving her space.

She seemed fine interacting with you in the group, she was more vocal. But once it was just you two she got all quiet. But she surprised you with her next words.

She finally glances at you properly, her eyes searching yours. “Thanks, by the way. For this. I know you didn’t have to.”

You swallow, suddenly aware of how close she’s standing. “You don’t have to thank me, Jenna. I just… I want to make sure you’re safe—and your sister!”

She nods faintly, looking down at the ground. For a second, it feels like the rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you under the flickering lights.

Before the moment can stretch too long, Hunter sticks his head out of the car window. “Yo! Are we road-tripping or setting up camp here? Let’s go!”

Jenna chuckles, the tension breaking as she steps back. “Guess we should get going.”

“Yeah.” You push off the SUV, giving her a small nod. “Let’s hit the road.”

As you both climb back into the car, you can’t help but glance at her through the mirror again. She doesn’t notice this time, and you’re glad she doesn’t.

————

"Hey, Y/n, remember the car I was driving yesterday?" Aliyah asks, her voice breaking the comfortable silence that’s fallen over the SUV.

It’s been about two and a half hours since you hit the road, and everyone is busy with their snacks. Conversations drift in and out, short bursts of chatter punctuated by the rustling of wrappers.

You hum softly, urging her to continue.

Aliyah glances at you in the rearview mirror, her tone casual. “It’s pretty cool that you own that car. My dad used to have the same one, and I remember him always going on and on about how rare it was. Small world, huh?” She shrugs, clearly amused by the coincidence.

You and Jenna freeze. For a moment, no one says anything, and the awkward silence hangs in the air like a weight.

You glance at Jenna through the rearview mirror, and she avoids your gaze. Great, you think. Of all the things to come up right now, this had to be it.

“Well…” you clear your throat, deciding Aliyah deserves to know at this point. “That was your dad’s car.”

Aliyah’s brows furrow in confusion. “What? No, his was black.”

“Yeah,” you admit with an awkward laugh, “and then I wrapped it green.”

The realization dawns on her, and she turns to Jenna, her jaw dropping as she whisper yells, “Oh my God! You like the girl who stole Dad’s car?”

Jenna’s eyes widen, and her face flushes. “Aliyah, shut up!” she snaps, but her tone lacks bite.

Aliyah smirks, clearly reveling in her discovery. “I mean, this is peak comedy. She stole Dad’s car, and you’re just fine with it?”

“I’m not fine with it,” Jenna retorts, but her lips curve slightly as if she’s holding back a smile. “And for the record, it was both of us who stole it.”

Aliyah raises her hands in mock surrender. “Oh, so now you’re an accomplice? Love that for you.”

While they bicker in their private conversation, Jenna’s eyes soften, and her gaze turns nostalgic. “That day was insane,” she murmurs, more to herself than anyone else. “We had no idea what we were doing, but it was... kind of thrilling."

Not knowing what the two girls were talking about, you glance at her in the mirror for the millionth time today. Jenna’s smile, faint and genuine, tugs at something deep in your chest, but before you can dwell on it, Hunter’s voice cuts in.

“Well, look at you,” he says with a laugh, nudging your arm. “Stealing the car of the dad of the girl you like. That’s one for the books, huh?”

“Shut up, Hunter,” you groan, shoving his arm off you.

He just grins wider. “Nah, I’m serious. You’ve really outdone yourself here. Romantic and criminal—who knew you had it in you?”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back into the seat, but an idea suddenly strikes you. "Alright, since we're all in a sharing mood, how about this—Hunter, how exactly do you and Jenna know each other?" Your tone pointed, almost teasing.

Silence.

Not a word, not even the rustle of snack wrappers from the backseat.

Aliyah breaks the tension, her brows knitting as she glances at her sister. "Wait...what? I thought we both met Hunter this morning?"

You glance in the rearview mirror. Jenna’s expression is stone cold, her face unreadable, like she’s mastered the art of giving away nothing. She doesn’t so much as blink, just stares out the window as though the question didn’t even register.

Hunter, on the other hand, looks like he’s sweating bullets. His hand fidgets with the strap of his seatbelt, and he clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, well… you see…”

Before Hunter can dig himself into an even deeper hole, Jenna suddenly bursts out laughing. The sound is so unexpected, so completely jarring after the tension-filled silence, that your head whips around to look at her.

Her laughter is light and melodic, the kind that shakes her shoulders and makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. For a second, you forget about the chaos in the car and just stare.

Her laugh is kind of… cute, you think, catching yourself and quickly looking back at the road before anyone notices.

Jenna waves a hand, her laughter dying down just enough to speak. “Relax, Hunter. Seriously, it’s not a big deal. Go ahead, tell them.”

Aliyah sighs loudly from the backseat, crossing her arms. “Okay, my patience is wearing thin. Someone better spill before I start throwing snacks.”

"Okay fine, you tell them Jenna, since you think it's so funny," Hunter mumbles defeated, shrinking into his seat.

Jenna glances at Hunter, who is clearly trying to become one with his seatbelt. With a small shrug, she answers casually, “I walked in on Hunter… being intimate.”

You blink, nearly missing your next lane change. “Oh, wow. That’s… embarrassing,” you mutter, trying not to laugh. But then your brain starts piecing things together, and you frown. “Wait a second. How does that even happen? Like… was this in public or something? Did you come to Brimstone, or were you—”

Hunter interrupts, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I was in Summer Valley, okay?”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, okay. Get that bag, I guess. But, man, from the way you were sweating, I thought it was something really bad.”

For a second, you think the tension has finally lifted. But then Hunter lets out a resigned sigh, muttering, “I was with someone from the Viper's crew.”

It all made sense now, why Hunter was so understanding of the idea of you being affiliated with a Viper—why there was two toothbrushes in his bathroom.

He had his own fucking Viper.

“What the fuck?!” you shout, your voice climbing a whole octave as you instinctively swerve the car.

Hunter grabs the oh-shit handle. “Whoa, whoa, focus! You’re driving, not judging!”

“What the fuck Hunter?!” you yell again, steadying the wheel as the SUV veers slightly back into the lane. Thankfully, it’s almost 8 pm, and the highway is relatively empty, so you narrowly avoid disaster. "You're fucking a Viper?! What the actual—"

Hunter throws up his hands defensively. “What’s the big deal?! You are too!”

You slam the brakes—figuratively, of course—your head whipping around to glare at him. “EXCUSE ME?!”

Your face goes red-hot, and you stammer, “I’m not—what—literally who?! I’m not fucking anybody!”

Hunter smirks, sensing your flustered state. “Oh, sure. But you wish you were fucking a Viper.”

If you thought you couldn’t blush any harder, you were wrong. From the backseat, Aliyah is howling with laughter while Jenna buries her face in her hands, her own ears tinged pink.

“You’re delusional,” you snap at Hunter, but your embarrassment only fuels his laughter. “Seriously, who even—"

“Doesn’t matter!” Hunter interrupts, his grin practically splitting his face. “I’m just saying, don’t judge me when you’ve got your own Viper situation brewing back there.”

“Hunter, I swear—”

Aliyah cuts you off, gasping between giggles. “Oh my God, I can’t breathe. This is the best road trip ever!”

Jenna groans softly, pressing a hand to her forehead, but the small, stupid smile tugging at her lips betrays her. She hated being teased, especially by Aliyah, who had the precision of a sniper when it came to embarrassing her. Yet, as the chaos bubbled in the backseat, Jenna found her thoughts wandering to the things Hunter had been saying to poke at you.

What had you two been talking about? Hunter clearly knew something she didn’t, and now, curiosity gnawed at her despite herself. She glanced at you, watching as you muttered under your breath and tightened your grip on the steering wheel like it might save you. It wasn’t just the teasing; something else was making you squirm, and Jenna couldn’t stop the faint curve of her lips from growing into a fuller smile.

She didn’t know what Hunter was hinting at, but the way your ears burned red and your gaze stayed glued to the road… she couldn’t help but find it a little endearing.

————

The freeway stretched ahead in an endless ribbon of asphalt, swallowed by the inky darkness of night. The faint glow of distant city lights barely pierced the dark sky, leaving only the occasional flash of headlights to illuminate the passing road signs and surrounding emptiness. It was quiet now, except for the hum of the tires against the pavement and the faint sound of Aliyah’s soft snores from the backseat. The earlier chaos had subsided, leaving the SUV calm in stillness.

You glanced over at Hunter, slumped against the window with his head bobbing slightly with the movement of the car. He and Aliyah had devoured the candy earlier like children on Halloween and, predictably, crashed hard. For the last thirty minutes, they’d been completely out, and you were silently grateful for the reprieve. Any more teasing, and you were sure your heart would’ve leapt out of your chest.

Your heart was still pounding, though.

You sigh as you wrestled with a thought you’d been avoiding for a while. You never addressed ghosting Jenna. You mentioned to her at the meeting that you’d talk later, but then you didn’t. And now, things between you were stuck in this strange, awkward limbo. You hated it. You hated the distance and the way your banter had evaporated into stilted exchanges.

More than anything, you wanted this trip to be enjoyable for both of you—for her.

“Hey, Jenna you awake?” you said softly, testing the waters. You knew she was awake. Her breathing wasn’t even enough to fool you. You just needed something to break the ice.

“Yeah, what’s up?” she muttered, her voice low to avoid waking her sister.

You hesitated for a moment, your hands flexing nervously against the steering wheel. Then you took a deep breath and decided to do what needed to be done.

“I just… I want to apologize,” you began, keeping your eyes fixed on the road ahead. “For ghosting you. I know it was shitty, and you didn’t deserve it.”

She didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel her eyes on you, listening.

“I… I had a conversation with my mom the first day I didn’t reply to you,” you continued, your voice soft and unsteady. “And it—it messed with my head. I found out my dad wanted out of the Sinners. That completely flipped everything I thought I knew. I was already so confused, and it just made things worse. And then…” You paused, forcing yourself to push through the lump in your throat. “It made me feel terrified. Of everything. Of this whole situation. And of you. Of what you made me feel—what I felt for—”

You clamped your mouth shut, cutting yourself off realizing you spilled too much. Your mind was already coming up with excuses for what you meant by what you made me feel. Heat crawled up your neck, your knuckles stark white against the dim light from the dashboard. You scrambled internally for a way to gloss over your slip-up, but the words weren’t coming.

“I’m not trying to excuse what I did,” you said after a beat. “There’s no excuse for it. I just wanted to explain, to tell you why I acted the way I did. And to say I’m sorry. Really sorry.” 

She's not saying anything. The silence stretched uncomfortably, and you risked a quick glance in her direction, her expression unreadable in the faint glow of the passing headlights.

Panic began to claw at your chest.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you blurted out, your words rushing now. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know what I did was shitty, and I know I have no right to expect forgiveness—”

"I know you didn't mean to hurt me, Greaser."

Greaser.

You smile.

And that was all she said until Hunter and Aliyah awoken from their slumber twenty minutes later. But it was enough.

————

"Damn, how long was I out?" Hunter grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifted in his seat.

Aliyah stretched with an exaggerated groan, yawning as if she'd been asleep for days.

"Only about forty minutes," you replied, glancing at them. The weight in your chest felt lighter after your moment with Jenna, but a part of you braced for the teasing chaos that might erupt now that they were awake.

Aliyah groaned dramatically. "Ugh, I was hoping the driving part would be over when I woke up. Are we seriously just gonna spend days cooped up in this car?"

"We’ve only been driving for like three hours," Hunter pointed out with a shrug.

"And that’s not far enough?" Aliyah raised a brow.

Hunter nodded, turning his gaze to you. "She’s got a point, you know."

"...I have a suggestion." Aliyah finally says.

"Shoot," you encourage her.

She leaned forward slightly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she looked at Jenna. "How about we visit Markus? We’re probably close to him already."

Jenna’s face lit up instantly, her smile matching her sister’s excitement. "That would be amazing, Ali, but… are we really gonna risk leading trouble straight to him?"

Aliyah waved the concern off with a dismissive hand. "Come on, you really think those bad guys are gonna follow us all the way to LA?"

While the sisters debated, you leaned toward Hunter, lowering your voice. "Who the fuck is Markus?"

Hunter smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "What’s the matter? You jealous?"

"What? No!" you snapped, scoffing like the idea was ridiculous. But your mind betrayed you, lingering on Jenna’s radiant smile. Who was this guy, and why did she look so happy talking about him?

The sisters’ conversation quieten down, and Aliyah finally addresses you, her grin still firmly in place. "Y/n, how does a trip to UCLA sound?"

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@cobaltperun

[kirishwima]

Ohhh pookie i meant to say like they get mad (maybe yell) at her and she starts crying and starts ignoring them for a week i love angst BOOKIE 😩💔🗣️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️❗❗❗❗‼️‼️‼️

+ shiu kong & toji they fine ass mfs 😩‼️

not u putting Mahito up there looking SO YUMMY (pls. i know hes an asshole but he's my guilty pleasure)

anyway, I love this kinda angst, and I've already written a kinda-adjacent smau, so...here's a drabble instead!

JJK guys arguing with you when you tell them you crashed their car

Gojo is pissed. He runs his hand through his hair, and not even his blindfold can protect you from the seething glare he shoots your way.

"You what?!"

You try to explain it away-it was an accident, you didn't mean to, it won't happen again! But you know that though the guy has a dozen different sports cars, the one you borrowed was his prized possession, one he only let you drive because it's you, and well, you're his other most prized possession, in a way.

You expected him to be irritated, to maybe say a word too many while fueled with anger.

What you didn't expect was the yelling. The cussing, all of it reaching a deafening crescendo when he, exasperated, huffs out;

"God, can't you do anything right?"

It felt like the world came crashing down on you, tears welling up in your eyes before you even realized it. Satoru saw that, of course he did, his anger that was boiling and spilling over now freezing cold, his hands reaching out towards you, hovering at your sides.

"Wait I don't-I mean I didn't mean it like that-"

But it's too late, as you shy away from him, wiping tears with closed fists.

He's never been good at comforting you, never knows what to say...he can usually take your mind off of whatever upset you with silly jokes and his trademark humor, but what can he do when he's the cause of it? He simply doesn't know. So he pulls away, lets his hands drop to his sides, mad at you partly, yes, but most of all mad at himself for taking a petty argument too far.

He doesn't talk to you for days. Grabs his pillow and heads to the spare bedroom before you can even suggest doing so yourself, will use the excuse of missions to stay away from you, anything he can do to give you space. He doesn't know how to fix this, you've always been the one urging him to talk about his feelings in this relationship, to stop repressing all he has to say, but without your guidance he's just a lost boy, hurt and uncertain.

He doesn't know what to do-so he does what he does best. Repress, and suppress. Even if the guilt eats him up from the inside.

Geto doesn't say anything at first. He looks to the scratch on his car, arms crossed over his chest, as you helplessly try to explain how it happened, standing right beside him with a pleading look.

He only listens to you half-heartedly, for the most part lost in his own mind, trying to repress the anger threatening to push out of his chest, red and bubbling up to his neck like a witch's cauldron over heat. He knows how scary he can be when he's mad, and as upset as he is with you, the last thing he wants to do is scare you.

"Suguru please...talk to me?" you ask him, meek and quiet and all he can do is offer you a side-eyed glare, expression icy cold.

He doesn't say anything-instead turns and walks away, leaving you to stand there by yourself, tearing up at the thought of him leaving over this. He didn't say a word, nothing-does he just not care enough to argue with you? Was this the final straw in a long list of stupid arguments you've been having lately?

For a week, he barely talks to you. There's nothing but silence between you when you're both at home, though that's a rare occurrence in itself, most of his time spent outside the house-presumably to stay away from you. You buy paint to fix the scratch on the car, only to find out he's already gotten it fixed, without telling you.

For a couple nights you slept in the same bed, backs turned to each other, even if it got uncomfortable, even if your whole body itched with the need to turn around and bury your face against his chest.

He thought he was protecting you by acting this way-he had no clue it'd drive a wedge even further into your relationship.

The third day you got out of bed when you thought he was asleep, grabbed your pillow and a blanket and slept on the couch. Yet somehow in the morning, you woke up in bed again. This kept happening for a few days, though neither of you ever brought it up.

Suguru wanted to talk to you, fix things-he wanted to so bad, but the thought of you potentially looking to him with disdain, or even worse-with fear in your eyes, was too much for him to bear. So he stayed away. He'll continue to do so, unless you make the first move.

Nanami sighs, rubs the bridge of his nose-like a father tired of having to scold his child. And he plays the part, makes you feel so small as he chastises you over the mishap, his tone never rising, not really, though irritation quite clearly seeps into his voice.

"Kento, I know I made a mistake-" you start, trying to show him your point of view, but he quickly shuts you down with an annoyed glare.

"A mistake would be one thing. This is just plain stupid."

And you feel your very heart clam up, seeing the man you love assess you so coolly. He doesn't say much else after that, merely that 'he'll get it fixed' before getting up, leaving you alone in the living room, your knuckles turning white with the way you dug your fingers onto your lap to keep from screaming.

He's not exactly...distant, but he's definitely colder in the upcoming days. Nanami's never been a fan of PDA, so on the surface, things look relatively normal. But at home? He avoids your touch expertly, like he would when maneuvering away from a cursed spirit's attack, he sleeps on the very edge of the bed-yet stubbornly continues to sleep in the same bed as you, toying between the lines of anger and care that has you pulling at your own hair.

You'd think he'd be more mature-he has that vibe about him, is always so responsible. And yet he never knows how to handle his own emotions, especially not when it comes to you. He'll have dinner ready for you on the kitchen counter when you get home from work, yet he won't take a seat and eat with you like he usually would. He'll do the laundry when it's his turn to do so, expertly fold it and store your clothes at their exact usual place, yet won't have a single conversation with you on the matter. He's the best roommate you could have-but as a boyfriend, that's a whole other story.

You know he cares, deep down he still loves you...but he's stubborn, always has been, and won't breech the topic unless you do, first.

Toji is a dick.

He really is. He lent you his car, the best up, old Honda Civic with the rearview mirror missing, the one he's crashed about a dozen times. Yet when you 'fess up to him that you scratched it, he gets so mean.

"You're a dumbass, don't you know how to fuckin' drive?!" he yells, and yells, and yells. Even with tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, he doesn't stop, keeps at it-until he raises a hand to emphasize his point, and you flinch.

He knows he's an asshole. He does, but for you to think he could ever hurt you...he freezes, arm slowly dropping back down, finally quiet.

Toji doesn't know how to apologize. He's never had to before, more used to leaving a difficult situation than bother facing it. But he doesn't want to leave this, leave you-so he stays there, a long moment, noticing the tears in your eyes, the way you avoid his gaze.

He doesn't know why he acts this way, he fucking wishes he did. He knows he loves you, knows he cares so, so much, so why? Why does he act like a feral dog, when he wants you to be his leash so badly?

You're the one that walks away first, turning your back as you exit the room, slamming the door behind you. And for his part, he lets you, afraid he'd bare his fangs and bite if he followed you, even if he doesn't want to. He's left every good thing he ever found in his life, knowing that if he'd stay he'd mess it up, break it beyond repair.

God, he hopes so desperately he didn't ruin you, too. Perhaps he should leave. Before it's too late.

[heartfullofleeches]

Five more minutes

Yan + Sleepyhead Darling

[tw: manipulation]

-

"I have an interview today!"

You expected them to be proud of you. It's been a while since you've been able to keep down a job - or do much of anything around the house. You pick up after yourself where you can, surprising your partner with the occasional meal if you have the energy- but your efforts compare little to all they do for you. Cooking, cleaning, bills- They've even helped you bathe a few times when you had gone days without realizing you were wearing the same pajamas. They've always said you could depend on them for anything, but would they truly be happy sheltering you for the rest of their life?

You thought they'd be proud, happy even- for you. You thought....

"Oh, sweetheart... Are you sure you're prepared for this? "

"Prepared...?" You're sure you are, but...do they have to use that voice? Sweeter than any lullaby you heard as a child, their gentle voice always had your head heavy against the pillows they regularly cleaned for you as they tucked you into bed - whispering sweet nothing's into your ear.

"Yes? - I even have the bus route mapped out so you don't have to take me, and I'm leaving a whole hour before I need to incase I miss any stops... I've been thinking about how we should split things more eventually around the house...plus I can't stay inside forever."

"How can you say that when your eyes are getting heavier as we speak? You can barely stand on your own feet without falling over. I think you need some more rest."

You've slept enough for one day...but can you say that about the next? It's only a part-time job so you wouldn't even be out that long - how long will it be until you fall asleep on shift? Pondering the what-ifs taps away at the vitality and will you had built for weeks in preparation of this moment. You've worked so hard just to get this interview - yet you're so tired already and the day hasn't even begone.

Your head falls on their arm as they embrace you - fresh tears staining the sleeve of their robe. It's warm, just like them. You struggle to keep your eyes open.

"Just look at you... Here, rest on my shoulder for a minute then I'll drive you over - that sounds good, right? Just close your eyes for five minutes minutes and we'll head right out the door."

Yeah.... That sounds nice. After all, it's only five more minutes.