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narnian-neverlander · 2 days ago

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What Could’ve Been [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: In which you find yourself in a world so similar yet so different to your own and are simply too tired of life knocking you down again and again to still play the selfless hero.

Word Count: 3,9k

Warnings: spoilers for Arcane Season 2, talk about character death and illness, suicidal thoughts, slightly suggestive at the end

A/N: I saw that alternate timeline and went ‘Ekko’s a stronger man than I am’ and went with that; actually wanted to write sth fluffy and happy, and this is wholesome-ish, but with some very bleak undertones so I might have to write some actual fluff to compensate. Also, the religious imagery wasn’t planned from the get go but it kinda happened and it is on brand for this man, I just decided to turn it on its head a little 🤷

“Interesting. When I told you about this last, you advised the exact opposite.”

You freeze mid movement, plate hovering an inch or so over the table you were setting. “Well I… I suppose I’ve changed my mind.”

The soft tap of a cane against the floor alerts you to him crossing the room, appearing in your peripheral as you put down the porcelain with shaky fingers. “A rather… hm, siginificant change in such a short time, wouldn’t you agree? Not to mention you acted like I was telling you for the first time.” He doesn’t receive an answer, so he keeps going. “I’ve had a theory for a while. I don’t believe I’ve told you about it, because really, it’s only a pipe dream at this point, but entertaining for the duller moments nonetheless: alternate timelines. The possibility of several different realities, all co-existing with each other simultaneously. Some would call the mere idea preposterous, I’m fully aware, but then again, how would we know for certain? How could we know? Unless one or more of said timelines happened to… overlap.” The silence that follows is deafening and heavy; a precursor of what’s to come. “You’re not originally from this world, are you?”

While he knows this is a conversation that needs to be had, the way you curl into yourself and seem to wither and grow small before his eyes makes him wish he could take it all back. He tries to catch your gaze, but you purposely avoid his as you drag yourself over to the couch. Body heavy and tired, you all but slump down into worn cushions, blankly staring into space as you weakly reply with “No. I’m not.”

He doesn’t move, nor does he speak, cause while he’d been expecting your answer to a degree, now that it’s out in the open he’s… unsure what to even do with it. It isn’t a worry for long, though, as you continue speaking, slow and weary. Like you had been expecting, dreading, this moment just as much as him.

“It wasn’t a… conscious choice. To come here, I mean. It was an accident really, I didn’t even know what had happened at first.” A weak chuckle. “This was a shock to me as much as it must’ve been for you.”

And what a shock it had been for you. To have been standing with your friends in the bowels of the Hexgates one minute and to wake up in an unfamiliar bed the next. Dizzily traipsing through a space that had felt familiar yet foreign all at once; pictures and mementos from times you couldn’t remember staring at you from every surface. And to have had Viktor come through the door, bag of baked goods under one arm, to find you in the living room of what should’ve been your home, looking every bit as lost as you felt. It had been a miracle you’d stayed standing then and there, with the way he’d looked: same lanky figure supported by a cane, same messy chestnut locks, same two beauty marks against the pale skin of his sharp face, same concern in his honey colored irises when he took in your state. But no dark circles borderlining bruises under his eyes, no hollowed, sunken in cheeks, no blood on his lips to betray another attack. And no Hexcore devouring him whole. Your downfall had come in the form of slender fingers gingerly wrapping around your forearm to try and steady you; a silent question and a gentle offer of help. One of those fingers wearing the very same ring you usually kept on a chain around your neck, because you’d always been too busy or too in your own head to just ask him. To offer him your heart, your life, your everything, if only he wanted it. Always too terrified of rejection, of losing him to his illness; too scared of fucking something until it was too late. And when your hand had come up in search for said necklace, a nervous habit that had developed at some point, and you’d found a matching ring on your own finger instead, you’d finally dissolved into a wailing, sobbing mess against his chest, never wanting to let go again.

And what a shock it had been for him. To have talked to you, not twenty minutes prior, an exchange of sleepy, lazy kisses and quiet murmurs, telling you he’d go get breakfast and be right back, watching as you’d curled back up under the blankets with a content sigh. To come through the door, expecting you still in bed and instead finding you in the middle of your living room, looking utterly lost and misplaced in your own home, an almost manic look in your eyes, staring at him like you’d seen a ghost. He’d approached you, carefully, like one would a wild caged animal, and then a simple touch of his had sent you into a meltdown. And at an absolute loss, he’d simply held you. Let you cry yourself to utter exhaustion in his arms, the both of you a heap on the floor, propped up against the back of the sofa. When you had finally, finally calmed down, you’d played it off as the aftershocks of a nightmare. The kind that makes you believe they’re real and keeps you trapped in them for what could feel like a lifetime. And Gods you’d looked like you had aged a lifetime while he was gone. And ever since that night you’d been… different. Getting lost in your own head more often than not. Suffering from nightmares almost every night. Migraines and something akin to epileptic seizures every once in a good while. He had let it go on, assuring you that if you needed anything he would be there for you, and in the following months, you’d seemed to settle and things had gone back to normal. Relatively. But it had been the memory loss that had made him suspicious. Or more so the fact that while some things remained, others seemed to have happened differently for you and some had never happened at all. Never having been able to leave well enough alone, he’d started digging for explanations. And now, at the end of his research, his most impossible theory proven right - he’s yet again at a loss of what to do. How to help you.

“I didn’t know how I got here, much less how to get back. From what I do understand about all of this, and it ain’t much, the thing that sent me to this world doesn’t even exist here. So at first I didn’t have much of a choice but to just… live. To pretend like everything was normal and I belonged here. But eventually I realized that even if I got the chance to go back, I didn’t want to. I wanted to be selfish, I wanted—“ Your voice cracks, thick with emotion and he watches your head drop forward like a doll’s whose strings have been cut, eyes downcast at your trembling hands. “I wanted to be happy again. And for once in my damn life I wanted it to last. It just never fucking lasts…”

Stride over to you and hold you tight, kiss you and tell you that everything would be alright, that you would figure this out together, like always. That’s what he should be doing. Every bone in his body tells him to, but just like so many other times in the past, his oh so brilliant mind prevents him. Tells him that there is no ‘together, like always’ because the person in front of him isn’t the person he’s known his whole life. Isn’t the person he married. Everything’s an ugly mess and he doesn’t mean for his next words to come across as cruel, doesn’t perceive them that way; blissfully unaware of the implications, he’s simply, truly curious.

“What would you do if you were to go back home?”

An inelegant snort leaves you and you wipe the back of your hand over your eyes in a desperate and vain attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

23 seconds.

You were counting, just to give you something to occupy your spiraling mind with, really.

23 seconds.

That’s how long it had taken him to no longer refer to this world, this apartment, him as your home. To prioritize whatever might be going in your other life. And you know it’s not fair, to be this upset with him, this version of him that you’ve been deceiving from the start; even though he has never wronged you. But you can’t help it. Guilt and regret would soon be all you’d have left again, so might as well leave him with some, too.

“Well… if I hadn’t gotten sucked into this mess, I would’ve killed myself by now. I guess I’d be getting back to that.”

The breath that escapes him sounds like you actually just sucker punched him in the gut and immediately makes you feel terrible about how casual and bitter you’d made it sound, but he’d wanted the truth and that was it. Limbs heavy und unsteady, you rise from your position on the couch and make your way over to the front door. “I’ll go take a walk or… you know, go do… whatever. Give you some space, time to think.” Your hand’s already on the door handle, but you pause and somehow find it in yourself to turn around and at least give him the courtesy of looking at him for what you’re about to say. “For what it’s worth, I never meant to let it go this far. It just became so… easy to pretend like things had always been like this. You made it easy. And while I’m sorry that I lied to you, tricked you, intentional or not, I got the chance to fall in love with you all over again. And I could never be sorry about that.”

You’re fairly certain you’ve never seen him move as fast as he does now and before you know it, you’re wrapped in a hug almost too tight, his cane landing on the carpeted floor next to you with a dull thump. “You cannot say things like that and expect me to just let you walk out of that door, I-“

Readjusting his hold on you, he cradles your head against his shoulder and loops his other arm around your middle, continuing in a hushed, gentle tone. “I can’t bear the thought of harm befalling you. Even worse, you harming yourself. In any timeline. Please, just stay. No matter what might happen in the future, just… stay with me. Right here.”

He means for it to be reassuring, comforting, loving, you know that. It’s not his fault that it has the exact opposite effect.

Wincing, a new wave of tears springs to your eyes and you remove yourself from his hold, but can’t bring yourself to let go completely; hands now linked between the two of you. “Viktor, I stole the body and life of a person you actually love. I don’t want you to force yourself to try and love me out of pity.”

“And why are you so certain that’s what this is?!” It surprises you, how genuinely upset he sounds, and a gasp is forced out of your throat when he wrenches his hands out of your grasp and his palms find your face, to force your gaze onto him and keep it there, wether you want to or not. The expression he’s wearing almost scares you; thick brows furrowed in anger and lips curled back in what could nearly be a snarl, but as soon as gold eyes find yours, red and puffy and so very desperate and grieving, whatever fire seemed to have been burning him up inside goes out all at once.

His shoulders drop and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh, warm breath fanning over your face. “I’m sorry, moje láska, please forgive me. I’m not angry with you, I just… I can not comprehend why you are so ready and willing to accept rejection, but will not even entertain the possibility that loving you comes as easy to me as your affections for me do to you. Why can you love every version of me, but I’m not allowed the same with every version of you?” He watches you blink owlishly, your mouth opening and closing several times and he’s not sure wether it’s endearing or heartbreaking, how clear it is that this possibility never even crossed your mind. “You act like this entire situation only penalizes me, when in reality, I’m not actually your Viktor, either, am I?”

He expects this to help, to give you a new perspective. To make it clear to you that you are both the same; you are not a villain in his story. And there is a smile on your lips, but it’s so small and sad that his stomach drops at the sight. “No, you’re not. You couldn’t be. My Viktor is gone.”

And all of a sudden, it makes so much sense. How sometimes you’d stare at him with the most haunted look in your eyes, like he was a dead man walking, ready to collapse at any given moment. How you’d grow frantic when he came back late from the academy. How you’d insisted on tagging along on the most mundane of tasks, always under the guise of wanting to spend more time with him, but really just keeping a close eye on him at all times. Though he suspects the former to be true; the chance to spend even a few more precious hours with a loved one you’d thought lost, who wouldn’t jump at that chance?

His world would simply seize spinning if you were no longer in it, he can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. How tormenting it must’ve been to see him everyday, a second chance dangling right in front of you, but never certain if you were to wake up back in a world where he was gone.

You’re in his arms again in a heartbeat, one hand carding through your hair, the other rubbing soothing patterns into your back; whispering sweet little nothings into your ear as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and sob. All so much like the day you arrived and saw him for the first time, and yet… softer. More intimate.

You stay like this until your bawling dies down to whimpers and sniffles at which point he gingerly coaxes you to look at him.

“Miláček, listen to me. As it stands now, you have no way of going back to your original world.” He doesn’t call it your home anymore, you notice. “You did not ask for this, you did not choose this; you had it thrust upon you while going through enough pain and grief you considered taking your own life. For the love of everything, you needn’t feel guilty for wanting to use this chance to find happiness again. And you shouldn’t feel guilty if you continue to do so.” Still sniffling you gently caress his face, thumbs running over his chiseled cheekbones and heart stuttering when he leans into your touch. But then you catch sight of the ring on your finger again.

“I’m not… I’m not the person you married, Vik.” Unknowingly, you parrot his own thoughts back to him, but surprisingly enough, he finds he doesn’t much care anymore. He’s flabbergasted how he could ever even doubt for a second that it would matter which timeline you were originally from. Because it’s still you. Damn it all, it’s still you. “Maybe so. But I’ve seen the same kindness in you in those past few months that I’ve always known. The same wit. The same ambition and passion. All the things that made me love you in the first place. You said this gave you the chance to fall in love with me again; would you allow me the chance to do the same?”

The truth is, while you want to try and build a life here, you feel guilty. Guilty about the friends you left fighting a war. Guilty about taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. Guilty about forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. All these months, you’d only ever reciprocated his affections, never initiated them, had barely let him touch you at all, because you’d always felt like somehow you were coercing him into cheating on someone he actually loved. But here he is now, telling you that he wants you, this version of you, all of you. Could you really do it? Leave behind everything and everyone you’ve ever known, for a chance at happiness, a fresh start? You had no guarantee that things would go smoothly in this universe either, after all. Wouldn’t you just be playing pretend for the rest of your life?

“So what, we’ll just… pretend like it’s the first time then?” you ask, a quiet breathless laugh accompanying your question. He shrugs and smiles at you. “Something like that. Falling in love with you again and again and again? I could imagine a worse fate.”

So could you. Much, much worse, in fact.

Your expression shifts somewhat without you even realizing and he immediately recognizes that he must’ve triggered some form of painful memory. He places tiny little kisses all over your face, murmuring apologies all the while and when you sigh in contentment it finally dawns on him that this is very much the first time you’ve let yourself enjoy being close with him since you got here. He doesn’t blame you; the moral dilemma that was forced on you would put anyone on edge and make them anxious about what they could allow themselves to experience without some form of consequences. He would prove to you that there would be none, he’d make sure of that; singlehandedly destroy them if they did decide to raise their ugly heads. That you didn’t always need to give and give and ask for nothing in return. That you could take what you wanted and not be punished for it. You’d taught him that after all.

“Moje světlo…?”

Gods have mercy on your soul, you never could say no to him when he used those damn pet names on you.

You crash your lips to his, desperate and practically starved; in direct contrast to all the sweet promises and gentle reassurances you just shared, there’s nothing romantic about it. It’s all tongues and teeth and absolutely filthy and it’s exactly what you need right now. Your back makes contact with the door you’d been oh so insistent on walking out of not even fifteen minutes ago, that thought now the furthest thing from your mind as his hands are already under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Your head falls back against the worn wood with a thump as his lips find your neck, leaving marks and bruises for everyone to see and maybe the moan that escapes your throat with a broken version of his name coupled with how weak your knees already feel could’ve been embarrassing, but you don’t have it in yourself to care; it feels like it’s been years since he last kissed you like this. Touched you like this. The whine of protest as he pulls back is cut short when he drops to his knees in front of you, hands on your hips to keep you in place and placing on last kiss on your stomach before he puts some distance between you both, not more than a few inches really, but still too much for your liking. One hand goes to cover his own, while the other cups his face, trying to tug him closer again, but he refuses. Brows knitting together in confusion and frustration, you’re about to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but he beats you to it.

“I won’t go further unless you tell me you want this.” You almost laugh, because he can not be serious. How much more obvious could you be? Your own body is doing half the talking for you, really. But of course that’s not exactly what he means. “I want you to admit to me, and more importantly to yourself, that you want this life. I want you to realize that it is perfectly alright for you to be selfish every now and again.”

His words trigger a memory from long ago, when you’d found him passed out on the desk in the lab one too many times. After you’d been done yelling at him, you’d told him that he couldn’t just always give and give and give until there was barely anything left of himself. That it was okay to be a little selfish and take things for himself every once in a while.

Take your own advice, liar.

A voice somewhere in the back of your head purrs bewitchingly and it’s right. You are still lying. Not to him though - to yourself. Telling yourself that you feel guilty for wanting to stay here, when in reality that’s how you should be feeling. But the truth, the real truth, is that you’re scared.

Scared of how little you actually care. About the friends you left fighting a war. About taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. About forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. You haven’t truly cared about any of it from the get go; always too self righteous to admit it to yourself, though.

Practiced fingers slip from his cheek to the hair at the nape his neck and pull; he goes along willingly this time, head forced back and his eyes lock onto yours, right as fresh, hot tears start to travel down your face. But you’re done grieving; you are livid, plain and simple. “I want this…” you breathe out, so quiet he almost misses it. You don’t stay quiet, though, you can’t anymore, and your voice rises in volume with every sentence spoken. “I want to stay. I want a life with you. All blissful boredom and domesticity. It’s all I ever wanted. Why…? Why was even that too much to ask?!”

He doesn’t have the answer, but he does have the solution, delivered with a slight turn of his head and a kiss to your wrist.

“It wasn’t. It isn’t.”

Breaths heavy and irregular, you simply take in the sight of him: all disheveled hair and kiss swollen lips, pretty blush all the way down to his neck, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, only a thin ring of gold left, looking at you so longingly, on his knees for you and you alone; like a worshipper ready to commit any atrocity for the sake and love of their god.

“You can take what you want, anděl. No one will punish you for it. I won’t let them.”

Angel. Oh, the irony. Irony turned certainty. Certainty turned reality.

So take you would. And you wouldn’t bother looking back at the things you’d left behind.

#arcane viktor x reader #hurt/comfort #arcane #gender neutral reader #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #viktor arcane #league of legends #arcane season 2 #pretend like it's the first time

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brunchable · 1 day ago

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Christmas Present | B. B.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x F! Reader Themes: Christmas Meet-Ugly, forced proximity, enemies-to-lovers(ish), rom-com Summary: You and Bucky are fighting over the last deluxe holiday gift set. The petty bickering escalates into a full-blown argument in front of shocked holiday shoppers, causing store security to intervene. As punishment, the frazzled guard handcuffs you together in the security office until you both "calm down." A/N : This oneshot is part of my 4K Follower christmas themed celebration. I hope you enjoy this first one! Thank you so much for reading my stories! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It was supposed to be a quick trip. Grab the deluxe toy train set, pay, and leave. That was the plan. But life had other plans, and those plans came in the shape of a six-foot something man with a smirk as sharp as the jawline above it.

You reached for the last box on the shelf—your prize, your golden ticket, the sole reason you braved the chaos of twenty-third shoppers.

"Excuse me, I believe I was here first," you said sweetly, gripping the box.

"Excuse you, sweetheart," the man countered, one metal hand already gripping the other end of the box. "I had my eye on this before you decided to swoop in like some holiday vulture."

"Holiday vulture?!" you spat, yanking the box closer to your chest. "I don’t see your name on it, Terminator."

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in just enough to make you flinch. “Name’s Bucky, not Terminator. And I’d be happy to write it on the box for you... after I take it home.”

“Not happening,” you hissed, tugging harder. The box creaked ominously under the strain.

“Let go,” he growled.

“You let go!”

By now, a crowd of amused onlookers had formed, phones out, capturing every moment like a live-action reality show. One kid shouted, “Go lady! You’ve got this!” while a woman in a reindeer sweater whispered, “This is better than The Bachelor.”

“Look, lady,” Bucky said through gritted teeth, “I don’t want to ruin Christmas for you—”

“Oh, really? That’s what this feels like!”

“But my friend’s kid specifically asked for this,” he finished, as if that were a valid excuse.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, so did my niece. And unlike you, I didn’t wait until the last minute to shop.”

“Your cart’s full of candles!” he shot back, pointing to your precariously stacked haul.

You gasped, scandalized. “They’re scented candles and they make great gifts! Not that you’d understand.”

“I understand they’re not as hard to find as this!” he said, gesturing wildly to the now-doomed train set.

The tug-of-war escalated, your battle waging in the aisle of festive chaos. The crowd grew, complete with commentary.

“Bet five bucks on the lady!”

“Ten on the guy with the arm!”

And then—CRASH. The box tore clean down the middle, spilling its contents across the floor. Tiny train cars scattered like shrapnel, and a miniature conductor figure flew into a nearby stroller, making the baby cry.

Gasps echoed through the store as you and Bucky froze, still clutching your respective halves. Somewhere in the distance, someone yelled, “SANTA WOULDN’T APPROVE!”

A whistle cut through the air. “Alright, break it up, you two!”

You turned to find a middle-aged security guard glaring at you like an exhausted babysitter. His name tag read “Carl,” and he looked about one tantrum away from quitting.

“We were just—”

“I don’t care!” Carl snapped, his moustache twitching with barely contained rage. “Both of you. Security office. Now.”

The security office smelled like stale coffee and regret. You sat handcuffed to Bucky, who, despite his protests, looked far too comfortable with the situation.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, yanking futilely on the cuffs. “We’re adults!”

“Debatable,” Carl deadpanned, sipping from his 'World’s Best Grandpa' mug. “You two are staying cuffed until you learn how to act like it.”

“I’m not a criminal!” you protested.

“Not what the footage shows,” Carl replied, spinning his chair to reveal the grainy security camera feed of you and Bucky mid-squabble. The freeze-frame of you squawking like a bird while clutching a toy train in a death grip was particularly unflattering.

“I’m offended on her behalf,” Bucky said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, shut it,” you hissed, elbowing him.

“You’re the one who tore the box!”

“You’re the one with the metal arm. That thing’s basically a wrecking ball!”

Carl slammed his mug down.

“Enough!” He massaged his temples like a teacher on their last day before retirement. “You’re staying here until I feel confident you won’t burn the store down.”

“Burn the store down?” you repeated, aghast, throwing your hands in the air as much as the cuffs allowed.

“Trust me, I’ve seen worse,” Carl muttered, eyeing both of you like feral raccoons fighting over a sandwich. With an exhausted sigh, he locked the door behind him and muttered something about “needing a damn coffee break,” leaving you and Bucky alone in the tiny, overheated room.

The silence that followed was so oppressive it felt like the room had shrunk. Only the faint, mocking jingle of Jingle Bells played faintly from the store’s speakers as you and Bucky sat shoulder-to-shoulder, stewing.

Bucky, apparently unable to sit still, started bouncing his knee—a rapid, relentless motion that made your entire chair vibrate like a washing machine on spin cycle.

“Stop that,” you snapped, glaring at him.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently, his knee bouncing harder.

“Your leg,” you hissed. “The whole chair is shaking! Are you trying to make me seasick?”

His lips twitched, clearly enjoying your misery. “It’s a free country.”

“Not for your knee, it’s not!”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t be bouncing my knee if I wasn’t chained to someone with candle obsession issues,” he shot back.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who went full WWE over a toy train set!”

“You’re the one who tore it in half, lady!” he said, pointing accusingly.

“I was fighting for my family’s honor,” you retorted dramatically, crossing your arms as much as you could.

“You mean your candles.”

“It’s called being thoughtful, you Grinch impersonator!”

His knee bounced harder, and you grabbed his leg in desperation, making him pause. “Seriously, stop! I’m going to throw up, and then you’ll really regret this.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. But only because you look like you might actually hurl, and I don’t need Carl coming back and cuffing me to the radiator this time.”

“So,” Bucky continued after a beat of silence, “Do you always fight strangers over train sets, or is today special?”

You glared at him. “Do you always shop last minute and ruin people’s holidays, or is that your side gig?”

He snorted. “Ruining holidays? That’s harsh. I’m saving them.”

“By what? Sabotaging shoppers?”

“By making sure my best friend’s kid gets the one thing he asked for,” Bucky replied, voice softening slightly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity.

“Okay, that’s… kind of sweet,” you admitted reluctantly.

“What about you?” he asked. “Candles for everyone?”

“No,” you mumbled. “The train set was for my niece. She’s… had a tough year.”

Bucky nodded, silence enveloping the two of you yet again, the tinny chorus of Frosty the Snowman blared overhead, and the absurdity of your situation finally hit you. You started giggling, and to your surprise, so did he.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, still grinning.

“This,” you said between laughs. “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever been part of.”

“Right,” he agreed, laughing harder.

For the first time since being forced to sit there, you weren’t arguing. Well, unless you counted arguing about whose laugh was uglier.

Carl finally returned, jangling the keys like a janitor who had seen too much. His Santa hat was slightly askew, and his mustache twitched with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. He looked like someone’s adorable grandpa who had just been told the grandkids set fire to the Christmas tree.

“Alright, you two,” he grumbled, unlocking the cuffs. “You’re free. But before you go…”

He planted his hands on his hips, his gut straining against his red vest, and glared at you like you’d just stolen cookies from the jar.

“I’ve been doing this job for fifteen years, and let me tell you, I’ve seen a lot of nonsense. But this—” he waved a hand between you and Bucky “—takes the fruitcake. Grown adults fighting over a toy train set like it’s the last turkey on Earth? Really?”

You started to open your mouth to argue, but Carl cut you off with a stern wag of his finger.

“No, no. Don’t even try to explain. You’re both guilty. Guilty of being Christmas disasters. And you…” he pointed at Bucky, his stubby finger trembling with indignation. “You’re what? Pushing 40? Shouldn’t you know better?”

That’s when Bucky’s lips twitched. And twitched again. And suddenly, he was laughing. Not just chuckling—a full-on, shoulder-shaking laugh that echoed through the tiny room.

Carl’s mustache twitched in annoyance. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said between gasps for air, “but… I’m being lectured by someone who looks like Santa’s understudy.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “You’re like a cute little Christmas elf—just missing the pointy shoes.”

Carl’s face turned as red as his vest. “I am not cute!” he barked.

“You kinda are,” Bucky said, grinning.

You smacked his arm. “Stop antagonizing him!”

But even you couldn’t suppress a giggle as Carl threw his hands in the air. “You know what? I’m done. Get out. Both of you. Before I call other mall security and have you escorted out by the Grinch Squad.”

Bucky saluted dramatically. “Merry Christmas, Carl!”

Carl muttered something about needing a stiff eggnog and waddled back to his desk, leaving you and Bucky to stumble out of the security office.

“Well, that was fun,” you deadpanned, starting to walk away, only to stop when Bucky called out.

“Wait! Hey!”

You turned, eyebrows raised. “What? Did you leave your dignity back there?”

He ignored the jab, shoving his hands into his pockets. For the first time since the ordeal started, he actually looked... awkward.

“I, uh… was just wondering what you’re doing after this.”

You blinked at him, genuinely caught off guard. “What am I doing? Are you serious?”

“Yeah, serious,” he said with a little shrug, his smirk less cocky and more boyish now. “You’re, uh… funny. And kind of cute, when you’re not threatening to strangle me over toy trains.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed.

“This—” you gestured dramatically between you both “—is the foundation of your flirting strategy? Chaos, insults, and shared custody of a train set?”

“Worked, didn’t it?” he teased, grinning now.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I just spent an hour handcuffed to you while debating whether or not to throw you out a window, and now you want to… hang out?”

“Why not?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, like this was the most reasonable suggestion in the world.

“Because this is ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “I barely know you, we’re still enemies by all accounts, and—”

“You haven’t said no,” he interrupted, cutting you off with a pointed look.

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Damn him and his stupid smirk.

Finally, you sighed, half-laughing at the sheer absurdity. “Fine. But if this turns into another wrestling match over a menu, I’m walking out.”

“Sure,” he said, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Whatever you want.”

As you both walked out of the office areas and back to the mall, you muttered under your breath, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Believe it, sweetheart,” he said, falling into step beside you. “And next time? Maybe we’ll skip the handcuffs… unless you’re into that.”

You glared at him, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, curving into an unwilling smile. Maybe chaos wasn’t such a bad foundation after all.

The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the room as Bucky groggily reached for the remote. Still half-asleep, he flicked on the TV, more out of habit than interest. The morning show’s upbeat jingle played, and he squinted at the screen, his brain catching up to the cheerful voices of the two hosts.

“—and now, for what might be the most hilarious Christmas shopping moment caught on camera!” the female host announced, barely suppressing her laughter.

Her co-host, a grinning man in a Santa tie, chimed in, “Oh, this is a good one. Forget Hallmark—this is real-life rom-com material, folks. Roll the clip!”

Bucky froze mid-stretch as the screen transitioned to shaky footage of himself and you, locked in a dramatic tug-of-war over the train set in the middle of the toy aisle. The commentary from the crowd was clear as day.

“Go lady! You’ve got this!”

“Ten bucks on the guy with the metal arm!”

“Oh, no,” Bucky muttered, sitting up straighter, dread pooling in his stomach.

The video jumped to the box tearing in half, scattering train pieces like confetti, followed by the baby wailing and someone shouting, “SANTA WOULDN’T APPROVE!”

The hosts erupted into laughter.

“Okay, okay,” the woman said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’m calling it now—this is the meet-cute of the decade. I can hear the Hallmark writers typing this into a script.”

Her co-host nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. Two strangers, both fighting for the same toy on the eve of Christmas eve—classic enemies-to-lovers setup.”

They both howled with laughter as the clip transitioned to grainy security footage of you and Bucky cuffed together, bickering like an old married couple.

“And this is where the movie writes itself,” the man said, pointing to the screen. “They’re forced to spend time together, cuffed in the security office. Sparks fly. Cue the heartwarming ending!”

The woman leaned toward the camera, her expression conspiratorial. “So, the real question is… did they exchange numbers? Did they get coffee? Did they—”

Bucky groaned and buried his face in his hands as his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it, flipping it over to see a message from Sam:

Sam: Congratulations, you’re famous.

A second message immediately followed:

Sam: Also, what happened next? Don’t leave me hanging! Did you at least get her number?

Bucky tossed his phone onto the bed with a groan, only for it to buzz again. This time it was Steve:

Steve: They’re right. This does sound like the start of a love story. Please tell me you didn’t blow it.

“Unbelievable,” Bucky muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face as the TV hosts continued speculating.

“What do we think, folks?” the male host asked, gesturing dramatically. “Should we start a Twitter campaign to find out what happened next? I need closure!”

“Absolutely!” the female host replied. “If you’re watching this, toy train couple, please—reach out. America is invested.”

“I’m never leaving the house again.” Bucky groaned louder, sinking into the pillows.

His phone buzzed again.

Sam: Famous AND trending. Look at you.

Bucky grabbed a pillow and smothered his face with it, his muffled voice barely audible: “I hate Christmas.”

He sighed and shifted, his pillow falling to the floor—he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, his irritation melted away as he looked to his right, where your figure was still peacefully curled under the covers. Your hair was a mess from the night before, your cheek pressed against the pillow in a way that made you look adorably innocent—though Bucky distinctly remembered you weren’t so innocent a few hours ago.

A small, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips. He let out a breath, shaking his head as he muttered to himself, “Actually. . . Maybe I don’t hate it too much.”

tags: @lomlbuckybarnes @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff @unaxv @carnal-vogue @bmyva1entine @wheredidiputmyfish

@thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @wanda-widow @filmologetica @awaywithtime @Thealyrs

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @winchestert101 @strawberrybisou @unaxv @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fynnwolff @Janonymus0 @veronicapaula

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onlyhereforthestories · 15 hours ago

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Una Noche De Nieve Y Amor (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Hello and welcome to day one of fic Advent. I decided at the beginning of last month that I wanted to try and write an advent calender type thing for you guys for Christmas. I have got ahead enough to say I can do it. So happy 1st of December.

The streets of Barcelona were unusually quiet as you and Alexia stepped out of the training grounds, laughter spilling from your lips as you bundled yourselves against the chilly December night air. After a gruelling session, Alexia had suggested a short walk through the city, wanting to soak up a few moments of calm before the holiday rush enveloped everyone. The streetlights cast a warm glow over the cobblestone streets, illuminating a few lone, glittering snowflakes as they began to fall.

“Look, it’s snowing!” you whispered, pointing up as the first flurries of the season drifted down around you. No matter how old you became, seeing snow always ignited that giddy feeling of childhood wonder inside you.

Alexia took a moment to drink you in, your rosy cheeks flushed from the cold, your hair slightly tousled beneath her slightly too big hat. She marvelled at how lucky she was to be here with you, feeling the warmth of your presence and getting to see a side of you no one else did.

“Sí, mi amor, I can see. It might even settle this year; what do you think?” she replied, her voice filled with enthusiasm. She knew you had a real love for the dusty covered paths whenever it did manage to settle.

You chuckled at her excitement, your breath visible in the frosty air. “I really hope it does. I haven’t seen real snow in years. There’s something magical about everything getting covered in white.”

Alexia pointed to a nearby café, its windows glowing with a warm light, the enticing scent of fresh pastries wafting through the open doorway. “Want to grab a hot chocolate? It’ll keep us warm,” she suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She wasn’t one to normally stray away from her usual diet during the season but for you she wo9uld do pretty much anything.

“Yes, please! I could use something sweet after that workout,” you replied, feeling your stomach rumble in eager agreement. Ever the gentlewoman, Alexia held the closing door open for you, ushering you inside the warmth.

The café enveloped you in a cozy embrace. The atmosphere was inviting, filled with the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of cups onto saucers. You found a small table by the window, and as you waited for your drinks, your eyes roamed over the festive decorations that had been put up around the quaint shop. The twinkling lights, a small tree in the corner adorned with colourful ornaments, and the warm scent of cinnamon permeating the air. The festive season created a sense of magic that wrapped around you and made you feel so much joy.

When the steaming mugs arrived, you took a sip, the rich chocolate warming you from the inside out. “This is wonderful,” you grinned at Alexia, knowing she was enjoying the indulgent treat just as much as you were, even if she would never admit that even to you.

She laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I knew you’d love it. This place has the best hot chocolate in the city. But I still think we should go out and enjoy the snow, even if it’s just for a little longer.”

“Agreed,” you said, feeling the warmth of the drink spread through you, mingling with the warmth blossoming in your chest from simply being with her. Together, you stepped back outside, where the snow had begun to accumulate on the ground, transforming the streets of Barcelona into a winter wonderland.

“Look, Ale, it’s sticking!” she laughed, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she scooped up a handful of snow from a nearby ledge. Before you could react, she playfully hurled it at you, the soft snow catching on your coat and hair.

“Oh, so that’s how we’re playing it, huh?” you shot back, grinning as you scooped up some snow of your own and tossed it at her.

Alexia was quick, darting behind trees and lampposts for cover, her laughter bright and infectious, blending seamlessly with the swirling snowflakes around you. Finally, when she least expected it, you managed to catch her with a handful of snow. She gasped, then laughed, holding her hands up in surrender as you both stood there, breathless and grinning.

The ground was already coated in a soft, white layer, and Alexia tugged you over to an empty patch. “Come on,” she said, pulling you down with her into the snow. “Let’s make snow angels.” You laid down on the ground side by side, laughing as you swayed your arms and legs to create your best impressions in the slightly too thin snow.

Eventually, the snow began to fall more heavily, and Alexia took your hand, gently helping you up. She brushed snowflakes from your hair, her fingers lingering in a way that made your heart flutter. “You’re freezing,” she murmured, giving your hands a light squeeze. “Come on, let’s go warm up.”

A few minutes later, you arrived at her apartment. Alexia guided you inside, and as soon as the door closed behind you, she took your hands again, rubbing warmth back into your fingers as you both giggled at how cold you’d gotten. She wrapped you in one of her fluffy blankets, and you watched as she moved to the kitchen, pulling out mugs and reaching for her stash of marshmallows.

With two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in hand, Alexia settled next to you by the window, both of you cocooned under the same blanket as the snow drifted quietly outside. The room was illuminated by the warm glow of a small Christmas tree she’d put up in the corner, its lights blinking softly to the rhythm of the holiday music playing in the background. You both sat in comfortable silence, just savouring the warmth and the presence of one another.

Then, with a shy smile, Alexia turned to you. “There’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while now,” she said, standing up and offering you her hand.

Curious, you took it, and she pulled you gently into the centre of the room. Wrapping her arms around your waist, you placed your arms around her shoulders, and the two of you swayed slowly, letting the holiday music guide you as you danced together in her cozy living room. You laughed softly, leaning your forehead against hers, sharing little jokes and sweet nothings, the world outside fading into oblivion. No one would believe the mighty captain of Barca women’s football team could be quite this soft.

As the night wore on, you and Alexia curled up together once again under the blanket, watching the snow continue to fall outside, the city wrapped in a peaceful winter hush. It felt as though the world had stilled just for the two of you. Moments like these were rare and precious, and you knew you would cherish this night, the first snow, the laughter, and the warmth of Alexia by your side, long after the Christmas season passed.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine

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devosin · 2 days ago

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— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! prologue : keeping up with Y/n L/n . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Y/n pov . .

Your fingers glided through the screen—which was on its lowest brightness setting—skimming through the terms and conditions of your contract, noting anything that stood out, before you threw the phone aside back on the nightstand and fell back down on your bed, pulling the comforter on yourself, as you try and relax your otherwise restless brain.

Tired shallow breaths leave your chest, your eyebags felt heavy, almost weighing you down—and the light peeking from your curtains almost caused a headache—there was this feeling that grew in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t quite label, a mix between both nausea and the dreadful feeling of doom, and after effect of an intense hangover, that didn’t seem to go away even if you drowned it in water and pills.

You hated it, you hated how being drunk leads you to do impulsive shit, and you hated the aftereffects making you so wary of your decisions, which only resulted in you sowing every decision you make.

Everytime you drink, you end up regretting it, and promising yourself that you won't ever again—it’s not that you're a heavy drinker—You just don’t trust yourself, you never have, but the alcohol really does wonders in bringing those feelings of deep-rooted insecurity up to the surface.

It’s really not your fault, it was an after party for the cast and crew in celebration of your series finalé—You didn’t do well under pressure, and when everyone around you was pushing you to take another hit and another shot . . and well saying no would have ruined the mood—You don’t regret going on your phone, and you most definitely didn’t regret emailing a response back for the hosting offer—You would’ve accepted anyways, the alcohol just gave you the push you didn’t have before.

It still triggers your anxiety, because you’re jumping into something headfirst with nothing prepared, you haven’t done that in ages.

You sigh, getting up from your bed, you’re clearly not going to get any sleep with this much stress, it would be best if you get some air, to calm down . . .

You were still in your pajamas, a large winter coat and hat covering most of your features (in order to avoid paparazzi), as you made your way through the streets, your hands buried in your pockets, forming fists as you looked through your surroundings. It was early november, barely any snow to be found yet it was colder than any winter you’ve ever experienced in the city.

It’s been four years since you moved out to the outskirts of Pyroxene, you used to live in the capital, before your acting career even started. You even attended University there, not much going on with your degree anymore though. A lot of your friends still live there, and sometimes you miss the bustling streets, the noisy cafe’s, the ability to meet up with your friends as often as you’d like, or the feeling of home—However, if there’s one thing you don’t miss, it’s the fucking traffic.

The traffic there was hell. You still have a small private condo in the capital under your name, considering a lot of your filming jobs take place there, and it seemed like a better investment than renting a hotel room every time, and hotels generally trigger your germaphobia . . —Plus it’s a lot cheaper just renting, and convenient for last minute things also hotels in the capital are fucking expensive—and everytime you film having to drive back and fourth made you want to take a knife to your throat, but that’s not a hotel exclusive problem.

You snapped out of your thoughts, when you heard a car horn, realizing you had walked straight into traffic.

‘Shit.’, you ran across the street as fast as you could, and for a moment you started believing in God again, because that was a close one.

Y/n and Navia beef because I looped "Girls so confusing" remix a lil too much and I wanted to have a friendship rebound in this because I clearly ain't getting one irl. (ew trauma dumping? in front of my yogurt/j)

I decided to double post and publish both pov's (praise me frfr/j), so you can get a grip on how things might flow?! Also creating relationships of side characters and dynamics as we move along, I want ya'll to really know these characters.

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter . .

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or for updates)

— taglist ♡ ; @well-look-at-this , @honkai-freak , @kingnem10 , @immahuman , @katzline , @pebble-bb , @meigalaxy , @lordbugs , @crowbird , @yuus3n , @azriel-sama , @reivelmin , @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 , @eliza-be-t-h , @feverish-dove , @yejiswifex , @l0v3r666 , @cece-cherries , @frootloopscos , @abell2029cluster , @ephemii , @alienlatteinspace , @frangiipanii (you'll be tagged in the comments due to tumblr mention issues)

♡ . Ask to be tagged... (If you don't see yourself up here, I cant tag you)

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loliwrites · 3 days ago

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The One You Need | seven

🎶 Rest your head here, pull me closer I'll hold you tight while you let go, girl And I could love you, if you just let me Be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, absent fathers, minor discussion of baby poop, fluff, cuddling, SMUT, repeated verbal consent, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, hair pulling, hickeys, mild choking, pussy pronouns, terms of endearment [sweetheart, good girl, sweet girl], female reader, reader has hair long enough to pull, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 9.1k series masterlist | part six a/n: here’s the last chapter of this fic! it’s been a long time coming and i’ve appreciated each and every one of you for reading, commenting, and reblogging. it was great fun and i hope there’re more stories to tell in the future

It was worse than you imagined. You sister really was on her own despite having a very legally married husband. It only took a day to realize she hadn’t been exaggerating the situation at all. He left for work at five in the morning after not even attempting to help with the baby through the night. Your little nephew was going through a bout of sleep regression, and you witnessed how your sister was the one who went to soothe him when he seemed to wake and cry every hour. And when her husband came home twelve hours later in the evening, he made a beeline for the couch, sat down on it and suddenly had a list of demands.

Bring me a beer. When’s dinner? Did you vacuum today? Why is the washing machine ringing? You should switch those clothes out. And after dinner, he didn’t even bother taking his plate to the sink much less being a fully-functioning adult and cleaning it – or at the very least, rinsing it off.

Your sister’s day to day seemed to be a never ending circle of soothing the baby, changing the baby, feeding the baby, cleaning, cooking, cleaning again, and laundry. How she had managed for so long before hitting her breaking point and calling was beyond you. Now carrying some of the burden, you felt resentment growing for her husband – and for all men. Was this not how your own father had acted when your mom was raising you and your sister? Was he not just as absent-minded? And if these were the two marriages you had for reference, men seemed to take the cake for least helpful and useless humans on the face of the earth. All forty-nine percent of them.

It was a big reason (but not the only reason) as to why you were dodging Joel’s calls. Your first few days with your sister had grown so much anger toward men that the last thing you wanted to do was talk to one – even if he was putting on what you now believed to be an act about being attentive and caring. For the first week, he tried calling two or three times a day, and you let each of them go to voicemail. Your sister had asked who was calling, but you shrugged and insisted it was spam. Now that you’d been with her for two weeks, Joel called less and less. Still, he called once a day at varying times, hoping to catch you in a free moment. What he didn’t realize was you had no free moments as you took some of the weight off your sister’s shoulders.

You closed your laptop as your sister rounded the couch with two cups of coffee. On the carpet in front of you, your nephew was playing with a toy that seemed to only be able to play one song over and over again. With rather poor timing, your phone rang right as you were being handed coffee, and so it was impossible for you to hide the screen which very clearly read “Joel” and not “Spam Risk”. As you went to click the side button and send the call to voicemail, you caught a mischievous glance from your sister.

“Who’s Joel?”

“My neighbor,”

Your sister hid her smile by taking a sip from her coffee. She nodded slowly and let out an acknowledging hum. “He’s spam?”

You shot her a glare, “yes.”

She nodded again, then fixated her attention on her child. “How many times have you slept with spam?”

You took another sip of your coffee before reaching forward to set the mug on the table in front of you. “Not enough to warrant him being so persistent,”

“Must’ve left quite an impression. Why aren’t you answering?”

You pondered how far into this conversation you wanted to go. If you wanted to go into it at all. That childhood in the family home had really done a number on you. Shit, you were sure it had done a number on her, too. That the years of walking on eggshells and trying to figure out what type of mood mom and dad were in had done seemingly irreparable damage. That you couldn’t get yourself to let someone in. That in the times that you’d tried, it wasn’t enough. It ended in heartbreak – both blindsided and not.

And deciding none of that mattered because your sister was in her own sewer of shit, you decided to go with a simple answer. “I think he’s looking for something I can’t give him,”

If she’d been your best friend who you told everything to, she would’ve called bullshit. But it was just your sister, so she nodded in false understanding. You wondered if anyone would ever really know you.

With your morning coffee behind you, you started off on a laundry list of chores – which surprisingly enough, didn’t include actual laundry today. Surely today would blend into all the other days spent here. And would culminate in you growing so frustrated with your brother-in-law that you’d eventually just remove yourself from the room and disappear into the guest bedroom that at this point should’ve just had your name on it.

It was like clockwork. Completely infuriating that you could predict it so easily. He came home, ignored his child, and plopped his ass in his recliner, demanding a beer and asking why the living room hadn’t been vacuumed. You wanted to smash the glass bottle over his head and scream that there weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything. Not when there was an infant that needed attention and caring for.

And because you knew you were bound to say something you’d regret, you excused yourself from the living room early and retreated to bed with your laptop and some shitty television show you could go numb to. Even though the intent was to turn off your brain, you couldn’t stop thinking about how long you were going to stay here. A couple more days? Weeks? A month or two? Would you ever go back to Texas?

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The next morning, you woke up in a sheen of sweat. Hair stuck to your cheek and forehead. And you sat up with the sheets pooled around your waist. Fuck. Two weeks and the sex dream about Joel you expected to happen in the first couple days had finally made an appearance. It would’ve been nice to get laid. Of course. But not at the expense of stringing him along. He deserved someone who could open all the way up to him. And lean on him. And depend on him. And all you could do was depend on yourself. No one else could pick up any slack for you. You could do it the best.

The baby shrieked from the other room and you knew it was late enough in the morning that he was up for good and your brother-in-law had already left for work. It was safe for you to re-emerge into the wild. Blindly reaching for the nightstand, you fumbled around for your phone, realizing it wasn’t plugged into the charger. Thinking back through the blending of days, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had it.

Padding out and seeing your nephew playing with a rattle, you waved excitedly to him. All but running over, you bent over and gave him a big, loud kiss to the head. Then you turned to finally address your sister who was already brewing a pot of coffee.

“I gotta go to the store today,”

Your sister nodded and picked up a notepad where you could see the grocery list of things she’d already added to it. She was past the point of offering to go with you as the last time that happened, it was an utter nightmare. Toting a fussy infant around while trying to move efficiently through the market was counterintuitive. You just wanted to get in and get out, and you could do that best if you went by yourself.

“Do you know where my phone is?” You looked back over your shoulder at the coffee table with no luck.

“I put it by your keys near the front door. It fell between the couch cushions last night,”

You nodded once – the sneaky couch cushion. Always the likely culprit. “I’m gonna go shower, get a cup of coffee and watch an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse with my little man,” you pointed at your nephew. At your attention he burst out into a toothless grin and a giggle. “And then I’ll head out for groceries,”

You were quickly learning that nothing ever went to plan with a baby. Everything was constantly derailed. The plan of shower, coffee, and TV was a nice one. But what you couldn’t account for was that halfway through the episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, your nephew was going to have a massive blowout that sent poop up to his shoulder blades. Gagging and choking to keep yourself from upchucking, you ran him to the bathroom while your sister drew the bath. Getting him undressed was a task as removing his onesie meant you got some of the poop in his hair. And bathing him while also dodging the poopy water he slapped in your direction could’ve qualified you for an olympic medal. You ran for the front door as quickly as you could once he was clean again and your sister had him back in a fresh onesie.

You never thought you’d be so happy to go to the grocery store. Even if it ended up that it seemed like everyone and their mother was doing their shopping all at the same time. Didn’t anyone work anymore?

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Stubborn as all hell and not wanting to make more than one trip out to the car for groceries, you loaded the canvas bags on your shoulders and forearms until they were tugging at your skin and threatening to drop everything you’d just bought on the garage floor.

Struggling to lift your hand to turn the doorknob you got the slightest of grips on it and used your weight to push the door open, while using your foot as a wedge to keep it ajar for you to slither through and into the house. It was commonplace now to enter the house as quietly as possible. The baby was a notoriously light sleeper and you’d already been guilty of accidentally waking him more than once. So sneaking in, you knew you’d made the correct decision when you heard the classical lullabies coming from the nursery. He was out. And elsewhere in the house, you could hear the kitchen sink going. Good. Your sister was catching up on the pile of dirty dishes her husband had left behind.

You huffed and puffed, willing yourself to make it to the kitchen before you dropped the bags to the floor. It seemed as though you were going to make it. A quiet, self-congratulatory cheer was halfway out of your mouth when your breath caught in your throat at the threshold of the kitchen.

Hunched over the kitchen sink, rinsing off a handful of soapy silverware, was a large, strong back with broad shoulders. Far larger than your sister’s. Joel.

Frozen, taking a moment to comprehend that he was actually, truly there, you didn’t say a thing or make another sound. But it was like he could sense someone behind him. After setting the clean silverware down in the drying rack, he looked over his shoulder and spotted you.

“Hey,” he pressed a smile at you. That charming smile you’d gotten really used to seeing back home.

“What are you doing?”

“Well,” he chuckled and looked down at the sink, “I’m gonna finish washing these dishes.” He glanced back up at you, “then I’m throwing a load of towels into the laundry.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Eyes flicked over him. He was just as you remembered. As if two weeks had been two years and you’d just come back from war. “Where’s my sister?”

“Sleepin’. She was tryin’ to get the little guy down for a nap but he was fussin’. I told her to get some rest,”

Tears started stinging the corners of your eyes, “you put the baby down for a nap?”

He nodded, almost looking confused at your confusion. Why wouldn’t he help with the baby? Little did he know you’d just spent the last couple weeks watching the baby’s father do absolutely nothing. So without saying anything else, you ran to him. Threw your arms over his shoulders and clutched onto him. There was a keen awareness that as you held onto him for dear life, he wrapped his arms around your hips and held you to him. Secure. Steady.

You sniffled and turned your face into the crook of his neck, “I miss you.”

Though he knew you couldn’t see his face, he still tried to hide a grin. Instead, he turned and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “I miss you, too.” He let you go as you slowly backed away from him and wiped your fingers beneath your eyes to make sure he didn’t see any tears fall. But he stared into your eyes and smiled a little wider, helping you catch the one tear that had made it down your cheek. He swiped it away with his thumb, “you were screening my calls.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I–”

He pursed his lips and shook his head, “don’t apologize. I know.” Joel pressed another smile and cupped his hand over the back of your head to guide you closer so he could kiss your forehead. “I know I was asking a lot of you too soon. I know that,” he lowered his hands to yours and intertwined your fingers together. “I was scared you were going to run too far away from me. That I wouldn’t be able to wrangle you back. And I… pushed too hard. I know I did because I saw the same thing in your sister today. So afraid to ask for help. Like someone’s gonna think you’re a burden if you can’t do it all,”

You sniffled again and Joel raised his hand again to swipe another tear away before it could fall fully down your cheek.

“You’re not a burden because despite your best efforts, I’m falling for you. Take the trash out to the bins for you. Snake the drain when your hair clogs it. Plant flowers in the winter and pick a bouquet for you in the spring. I want to do all those things, so all you gotta do is ask me. Ask me and I’ll do anything for you,”

Nodding, you leaned forward and pressed your forehead to Joel’s chest. He scritched his fingers through your hair. All you could do was sniffle again. Because how in the hell did you stumble upon a guy like him when… “My sister’s husband is just like our dad. And I feel bad for her,”

Joel took a deep breath. He didn’t want to be too hasty with a response to this one. Finally he settled on one. “Is that why you dodged me? Thought maybe I’d turn out to be like your dad and your sister’s husband?” He lowered his head closer to yours when you didn’t stir. You were just trying to protect yourself. He knew that, too. “You’re a good girl. You know that?”

You raised your head and looked up at him. Something you expected to hear more likely within the bedroom, had never sounded so innocent. Joel grinned a little wider and brushed his fingers through your hair to push it away from your face.

“A good girl. An understanding sister. And a helluva woman,”

On any other day, you would’ve blushed and hid your face from him at a comment like that. But today, you let his words rain over you. You wanted him to continue. To keep proving that he was leaps and bounds different from other men. But your nephew had other plans.

And at the sound of his crying, your sister padded out of her room and spotted you and Joel in the kitchen. She blinked sleepily, beaming at the sight of you two before she carried on to tend to the baby.

You stayed turned in her direction for a moment after she’d already left your scope of vision. But at the feeling of Joel’s hands squeezing your hips, you turned your attention back to him. “You stayin’ here, or…?”

He shook his head, “I’ve got a hotel ‘bout 10 minutes away.”

“Well, hurry up, then. I’ll throw the towels in the wash,”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

There you were. Once again. Lounging in Joel Miller’s (hotel) bed. His khaki duffle bag was on the desk pushed up against the corner of the room. A small backpack of some items of yours sat beside it. And his phone was on the nightstand beside you. That struck you as the greenest of all green flags because the phone was in striking distance should you get curious, but Joel was not. He was in the bathroom, where now, the shower turned off. You had come in together, but despite your lips on his neck with teeth grazing over it, he insisted on showering first. To get the airport off of him.

The bathroom door creaked open and you looked in that direction, awaiting him to return to your line of vision. He did just a second later. Rounded the corner out of the bathroom and stood there at the foot of the bed – a white towel slung around his hips, haphazardly secured at the front. He held a smaller white towel and scrubbed it over his head to rid his hair of dripping water.

“Now that’s a sight I missed,” he trailed his eyes over your body, splayed out on the bed. He tossed the smaller of the towels onto the desk and crawled onto the bed.

He was so close now. His position above you forced you to recline, laying down fully. Caged there between his hands on either side of your body, you lifted your head off the pillow and kissed him. Pleased that when you lowered your head back to the bed, he followed with you as to not break your kiss. His tongue pressed to your mouth in search of entry, and once you let it in, it was greeted by your own tongue.

Joel hummed into your mouth and let his hips fall down to yours so he could move his hands to your face. Cupping either side of your head, he brushed his thumbs back and forth over your cheeks. After a couple weeks of living life more closely resembling a nun, mixed with this morning’s sex dream, you felt redeemed by a makeout session. Longing and yearning paired with frenzied lips. Teeth gently tugging at soft, plush skin. Tongue vying for attention and power. Wandering hands in search of the next bit of purchase. You bucked your hips upward, dragging your mound over the bulge between his legs. That white towel was doing as many wonders as his gray sweatpants did. It felt like you were in college again, on some sad twin mattress, dry-humping a co-ed that wasn’t going to give you any amount of pleasure. This time, you knew the man you were dry-humping would.

Joel’s lips tightened into a smile against yours and he pulled his hips back to tease you… to keep you from getting the friction you wanted. He snaked his hand between you and the pillow and grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of your head. With a slight yank, your head tilted backward, leaving your neck exposed, and you at his mercy.

“Joel,” you moaned, feeling the throbbing in your core intensify.

“Only good girls get to do that,” he smirked and pulled your hair a little harder. With your neck stretched out fully, he leaned forward and bit it, close to the collarbone.

Instead of letting go, he sucked on it, and you absolutely knew what he was doing… Marking you. You’d wear the bruise for a few days, hiding it like a teenager who feared getting caught with it, but who would secretly ogle it in the mirror to remember the day it was given to you.

“I’m a good girl,” you pleaded, trying to lift your hips again.

But now he moved his other hand down and gripped into your hips. Forced it back down to the bed. Too easily, you thought. “Are you? Last time I checked, good girls didn’t disappear for two weeks without a goodbye fuck,”

You pursed your lips together in a pout. That was fair. Had you not sprung your exit on him at the very last possible moment, knowing it wouldn’t amount to any sort of closure. For either of you. “I want to be one for you,”

Joel did his best to hide his smile. But you saw it crack through this domineering facade. “Yeah?”

You nodded with widened eyes and batting eyelashes. Tracing down his chest and stomach, your hands found their purchase on the top of the towel at his hips. You looked down at it for the quickest of moments. Just enough time to spot the outline of his cock beneath the fabric. Then you flicked your gaze back up to his eyes.

“Show me what kind of good girl you are,”

With a clear indication to proceed, you looked back down at his waist and curled your fingers beneath the fabric. Though it hadn’t budged from where he’d originally secured it, it became undone with very little force from you. The towel fell open and partially exposed him to you. Realizing your jaw had fallen slack, you closed it and swallowed while simultaneously pulling the towel to the side until he was completely free from it.

There was something oddly intimate about his complete nudity juxtaposed by your lack thereof. His member bobbed up and down on its own volition as he grew harder and you reached forward to wrap your fingers around him. Though with the way you were positioned together, you had to rotate your hand palm up, and twist it in a less than desirable way to be able to stroke him at all.

His eyes drifted down to his waist and caught sight of your hand. Just having you touch him again was pleasurable enough. If he was being honest, his own hand hadn’t been cutting it in the past couple weeks. But he saw you struggle to keep pace at the awkward angle and he grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled it off of him. What he didn’t expect was that you’d cry out, and with a sense of near-panic, try to reach for his length again.

Realizing he’d asked you to show him, and then very quickly was keeping you from doing so like some sort of punishment, his heart twisted into a knot. “Sorry– sorry. Just let me…” He sat back on his heels and shifted his weight from one knee to the other, to reposition himself, straddling your body.

He lifted your hand, palm facing up, and spit into it before he released your wrist, which you promptly brought back to his shaft. Now with a better angle, you were able to stroke him with far more ease. Your eyes stayed glued to it, focused on how your hand slid from the base all the way up to the head, where your fingers curled over it before sliding back down to the base.

“Lemme see your eyes,”

On command, you looked up at Joel. His jaw had fallen slack and he stared at you with something devilish in his eyes. You licked your lips and inhaled sharply, wishing you were a little less clothed at the moment. Or at the very least, not wearing an old college t-shirt. A little visual stimulation right now could’ve done him some good.

“You wanna suck my dick, sweetheart?”

It was a far more gentle proposal than you’d been expecting, but nonetheless, you nodded eagerly. You lifted your head to try to get at him as quickly as possible, but he shook his head and clicked his teeth until you succumbed and laid back down. This time when he peeled your hand off of him, he did so with a nod to assure you, you’d have it back in a moment.

“Take your shirt off for me?”

Thank God. You reached for the hem with haste and tore the thing off, flinging it over the side of the bed. Left in your bra – not the sexiest of them but still with a little padding for a slight push-up – you went to resume your place, but Joel caught you and helped you up a little further so you weren’t in a fully supine position. Now with your head propped up at a slight angle on the pillows, he brought his knees further up until he was straddled just below your shoulders. You flicked your eyes at him nervously. This was new.

“This alright?” He asked with his length in his hand, slowly stroking himself. There was a moment’s pause on your end, eyes flicking back and forth between him and his cock, before you nodded. He smiled to himself as you fixated on the way he played with his member. “Let me hear you say it,”

You looked back up at him. How could you have forgotten you were in the presence of the king of verbal consent? “This is good,”

“Good girl,” he smiled. With slow deliberation, he eased his hips forward and guided himself into your awaiting mouth. His free hand moved to the headboard, palm pressed flat against it to steady himself. He knew he’d grow weak feeling your mouth working him over.

And he was right. The moment your lips closed around the head of his cock, he let out a labored groan. His eyes fluttered shut and he let his chest deflate for what seemed like the first time in a long time. Now with both of his hands against the headboard, you held onto the base of his cock gently while you sucked and licked at the head; pulling more and more precum from him with each lick to the underside.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he looked down at caught you staring at him.

You blushed and inhaled through your nose. Allowing your eyes to drift shut, you worked your mouth down halfway down his length, then pulled back so as to not choke on him. With a slow rhythm, you did that over. And over. And over again. Joel wasn’t touching you. Wasn’t saying anything particularly dirty to you. Yet you felt yourself drip in your underwear and you squeezed your thighs together.

He must’ve heard the fabric of your jeans rustle because a chuckle floated out of his throat and your eyes snapped open. He stared down at you, head cocked to the side, and had a hard time deciding if he wanted to look at your eyes or the way his shaft moved in and out of your mouth. You kept in a staring match until your hands drifted around his legs and urged him forward even more. At that, Joel bowed his head and was decidedly focused on your eyes.

He obeyed your urging, but with a watchful gaze, he went even further than you expected him to. The head of his cock pressed at the back of your throat. Your eyes filled with tears. One even escaped the corner of your eye and rolled down to your temple. Fingers gripped tighter to the back of his thighs as he pushed the limit.

“Look at you gettin’ all of me in your mouth,” he’d grinned breathlessly, all but shoving the entirety of his length past your lips.

You’d managed to hold your breath while he explored the far ends of the boundary, but with the next breath you tried to take, you choked and sputtered around his length. Joel pulled out of your mouth. Strands of saliva kept you connected for just a moment before they broke as he stroked himself again.

He bent over, nearly folding himself in half to lower his face to yours. Despite your heavy breathing, his free hand cupped around your neck and squeezed the sides of it gently. And he kissed you with lust and fire. No consideration or care for the fact that you’d just had him in his mouth. He lapped at your lips and tongue, drinking you up until you’d regained your breath enough for his liking.

Joel unfolded himself and placed both hands against the headboard again. Eyes glued to you, he watched as you dove forward for his length, and took it in your mouth again. Reinvigorated, you sloppily dragged your lips over him before pulling back just enough to move your mouth down to his balls.

“F’you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” he muttered through his teeth trying not to paint your face with his spend then and there.

But when his comment was met with a challenging hum from you, he lowered one hand from the headboard and reached behind him, stretching as much as he could while not disturbing what you were doing. His fingers hit the waistband of your jeans and he kept going. He pushed them beneath the tight fabric, and then pressed into your skin to get his fingertips beneath your underwear.

Your legs flinched together when he passed over your clit. You brought a hand up to his shaft for the twofold purpose of pleasuring him and keeping it out of the way while you paid his balls some attention. But with his middle finger circling your button, your mouth dropped open, “please, Joel.”

His response came to you in a soft tone. “I need to taste this pussy, sweet girl. Make me come and I’ll eat you out,”

The lightness of it – despite his words being wonderfully and horribly sexual – caught you off guard to the point that your eyes found his and you licked up over his delicate anatomy. Carefully, you sucked one of his balls into your mouth and rolled your tongue over it. The more you continued, the more you felt Joel unable to keep pace. His fingers stopped and started randomly. Brain slowly losing the ability to function as the pleasure swept through. You switched over to his other testicle and gave it the same gentle treatment when his finger stopped for good this time. He slid his hand out of your pants and curled it around the front half of his length, cautious to not accidentally bump into your face.

“M’gonna come,” he mumbled frantically, giving himself a few short tugs. “Where do you want it?”

You grinned and pulled away from his balls, “anywhere.”

“Where,” he all but demanded. His cheeks were flushed as he besought you for a clear answer.

“Mouth,” you cupped your hands around his thighs again. “My mouth,”

A guttural moan came from Joel and he angled his member at your open mouth with not a second to spare. He spilled onto your tongue with another groan. The muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed up until his orgasm was over. He released his shaft and it smacked down to your tongue. You picked up where he left off and wrapped your lips around him. Despite being wary of continuing gently, his body shuddered when you gave a final suck to him.

“Wait, wait…” he eased his shaft out of your mouth and hand and began to work himself backward away from your head.

Again, you’d only just swallowed when he bent over again and kissed you with an open mouth. He was, undoubtedly, the most surprising man you’d ever come across. Soon though, his lips left yours and he made his way down to your neck, where you stretched out to give him room to do so. His lips stayed by your ear, and ever so stealthily, he settled himself between your legs. Easing your thighs apart so he could drop a knee between them.

Joel kissed and licked your neck for a moment before he nipped on your earlobe, “you’re wearin’ too many clothes.” He smiled at your reaction when you nuzzled your face into his shoulder. “How about we take this bra off?”

His hand snaked around to your back and paused at the clasp until he heard you give him the go ahead. “Yes,”

Within seconds, he pulled away to part your chests only as far as he needed to in order to take the garment off you and toss it to the floor. He returned his lips to your ear with another quiet demand, “arms above your head.” Pride flooding him when you obeyed yet again. He crossed your wrists over one another and held them with one of his massive hands. Joel kept his eyes locked on yours when he trailed his free hand down between your bodies and set his fingertips on the button of your pants. “You gonna let me eat you out?”

You nodded enthusiastically and responded all at the same time, “yes. Please, God, yes,”

Joel undid the button and zipper on your jeans. With your help of lifting your lower half off the bed, he managed to shove your pants down to your calves. “She still taste as good as I remember?”

You giggled, playfully fighting against his grip on your wrists. Testing the waters. “It’s been two weeks, not two months,”

“Two weeks too long when I want it everyday,” he released your hands and kissed his way down your chest, between your breasts, down to your belly button, until he met the waistband of your underwear. He tugged on your jeans and freed your legs from them completely. Spreading your legs wider, he lowered himself between them and draped one of your legs over his shoulder. He kissed your inner thigh while his fingers toyed with the lace at the crease of your leg, “can I?”

“Joel, just do it, pl–” your words died in your throat when Joel pulled your underwear to the side and latched his mouth on your clit. “Please,” you moaned and immediately buried your fingers in his hair. Both of your hands cradled the back of his head, fighting the urge to push it down harder on you.

He opened and closed his mouth around you, craning his head lower to lap at your dripping entrance. “Goddamn. Love that you get this wet just from sucking my cock,”

Just from the way your underwear had stuck to you, you were sure you were a mess. Slicked up and ready for Joel. He wouldn’t need to do too much for you here. Shit, the sex dream itself had nearly gotten you there. Yet he kept working. Licking from your entrance, all the way up to your clit.

You shivered and tugged on his hair, silently begging him not to stop. The noises coming from him – the hums and the moans – were a pretty good sign that he wasn’t going to. He lifted your leg off his shoulder and pushed it back toward your chest. It raised the angle he was able to get at you and he used that advantage to close his lips around your clit again. It made your calf spasm in his hand which he remedied by massaging his fingers into the muscle. And most of all, you knew he was making more of a mess of you than you’d already been before. With each lick and swipe of his tongue, a wave of arousal flowed out of you. He even brought a hand up to your entrance and smeared your slick all over as if proving the point even further.

Joel eased his middle finger into you with his palm facing upward. Your body fought him but he fought back by biting your inner thigh, and a shriek left your throat at the sharp feeling.

You clutched at his hair tighter, tugging on it with fervor, “so good, Joel. S’good,”

He pulled his finger out of you, much to your dismay. But very quickly pushed it back inside. This time with the addition of his ring finger. You let out a coo… a hum… a plea for him to get you there. To just tip you a little further, off the edge, foregoing the wherewithal to be embarrassed by how quickly he could.

You came without warning. You’d thought you had a minute left but there you were coming undone, moaning and trembling beneath him. In fact, the first coherent words out of your mouth were exclamations of apology. You brought a hand up over your mouth, trying to ground yourself as your body still jerked to each of Joel’s movements. Sorry’s passed your lips in a steady stream.

Joel didn’t answer right away. Just removed his fingers from your core and kept kissing and licking your swollen cunt until your body stopped spasming. He kissed up your hip, to your navel, and continued past it. It wasn’t until he pressed his lips to the curve of your breast that he finally lifted his head. He stared at your lips and wiped his hand over his beard to clean away some of your release before he leaned back in and kissed you.

You accepted it wholeheartedly, trying to pay him back for your lack of warning before you came. He’d been aware enough to warn you of his. “I meant to warn you, I–”

Joel pulled away from you and shook his head, “don’t you fucking dare apologize for coming.” He lowered his weight to you and cupped one of your breasts in his hand. He kneaded the supple flesh and lifted his other hand to the side of your head. Lips pecked your jawline until he closed in on your ear. “Want me to fuck you?”

He whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear it. Had you not been so tuned into him, you might’ve missed it. But you nodded eagerly, arching your body off the bed to grind up against him.

His lips stretched into a smile against your jaw. “Take your underwear off,” he paused, waiting as you did so. He only lifted himself far enough up for you to complete the job. Then, brimming with pride, he whispered to you again, “put me inside you.”

“Joel,” you whined, hoping he’d take control of the situation.

But he was intent on matching your stubbornness. “If you want it, take it,” he grinned again against your ear.

This time there wasn’t hesitation on your end. You reached between your bodies and wrapped your fingers around his girth. He nodded softly and you brought him between your spread legs. Careful, deliberate actions until you pushed him past your tight ring of muscle and he sunk inside you.

“Attagirl,” he lifted his head and kissed you tenderly.

You’d expected frantic, hurried sex. The type of starved lovers after weeks away. Something a little more similar to the oral sex you’d both just given and received. But instead of quick thrusts that sent your head into the headboard, Joel let himself rest inside you for an extra minute. He kissed your lips, and cheek, and jaw, before he made his way back up to your lips. Just content for the time being to relish in the feeling of him throbbing inside you, and your body responding to it with tugging clenches.

“Joel,” you whined again.

This time he cupped both hands around your cheeks and hushed you. “Let me take my time with you,”

“I need you to move though. Fuck me. Hard. And now.”

He smiled a little wider. Before he gave you a verbal answer, he rocked his hips backward and then slowly thrust back into you. “Be patient. Let me take care of you,”

It wasn’t lost on you that he was saying that a lot lately. Let me take care of you. If this… mind-blowing sex and earth-shattering orgasms were included in the “taking care of you”, you were inclined to let him. So you bit your tongue and set your hands on his ribs, content to let him take care of you however he saw fit. You doubted you’d have any objections if it was going to end in another orgasm.

Joel’s languid thrusts pierced into you in steady repetition. And though they weren’t fast or rough, they were just as deep and powerful as you remembered. Maybe even more so as the slowness allowed for his eyes to remain on your face; catching every miniscule change in your expression. From the breathless smile that spread across your face when his cock passed over your gspot, to the wince that replaced it when the head of his length pressed against your cervix.

He kissed you again, this one a tender thing that matched the care and precision of his thrusts inside you. Each forward motion of himself into your anatomy fanned the flame inside you. A heat rose in your chest and migrated up your neck and to your cheeks. You saw a similar flush in Joel’s own chest and cheeks. It gave you great pleasure to know you could satisfy him as much as he could satisfy you.

You clutched at his sides a little tighter when a particularly deep thrust made the edges of your vision blur. “Want you to come inside me,”

“Yeah?” He nodded, reassuring, “I will.”

In times past, even if the sex wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t necessarily an event. Not like this. Not like Joel was content to fuck up into you for hours if that’s what it took. It surely wasn’t going to. But not once did his pace quicken or falter. Not when you purposefully squeezed your muscles around him to spit him on. Not when you lifted your hips off the bed to meet him halfway. In fact, he just held you down. Pinned a hand to your waist and forced you flush to the bed so he could keep his desired speed.

But in the effort of once again meeting each other at stubbornness, you decided to take matters into your own hand. You pressed against his chest with force, not surprised when he immediately leaned away from you. He didn’t go as far as to pull out, but he did stare down at you, utterly confused. Just after your last request, he wasn’t expecting you to be stopping him.

“I wanna be on top,” you pressed on his shoulder thinking he’d roll over just as easily.

But Joel just laughed at you and shook his head. He pulled out to the tip and then rolled his hips forward back into you. However, you pushed on his chest again, more insistent this time. Joel caught one of your wrists in his hand and pinned it down by your head.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna go too fast and we’re havin’ a moment,”

You glared playfully at him. If he wasn’t going to let you do it off the bat, you knew you could play harder. Lifting your head off the pillow, you nipped at his jaw, making your slow way to his neck, where you dragged your tongue over his jugular. “I want to ride you… pretty please?” You suckled on his neck and let out an airy whimper, “wanna feel you all the way up in my stomach. Feel you…”

Joel cut you off with a well-placed arm around your back and he carefully flipped you both over without slipping out of you. Victorious, you wiggled your hips, drilling him into you to the hilt.

“Don’t get too cocky. I would’ve come if you said rearrange your guts, so really I did you a favor,”

You rolled your eyes and set your hands on his chest, using the leverage to roll your hips back and forth along his length. You’d play by his rules. You’d go slow and let the moment continue. You wouldn’t try to ride him within an inch of his life just for the heck of it. Shit, you weren’t far off of your next orgasm when he was on top of you. Now you knew your time on top of him was finite.

He kept his hands on your hips as if he wasn’t sure you’d comply with him. Like he’d have to use every remaining ounce of strength to keep you moving how he wanted you to. But on top of him, able to fully harness the friction against your clit you’d been searching for, it wasn’t hard to want to comply. You could get everything your wanted and more. So as your movements kept him deep, and your anatomy clung and pulled at him, you neared another orgasm with haste.

You thought he could feel it coming. You were sure he could. The grin on his face was either because he knew your climax was imminent, or because his was. Either way, it seemed like a good time to you. Your head bowed forward, chin dropping to your chest, and your body stiffened. Everything stopped for you as you tried to fight it off. To make it last a little while longer. But the ever-present grip Joel had on your hips tightened. Fingers squeezed your supple flesh. And he thrust up into you with power you weren’t sure he’d be able to get at this angle.

The orgasm crashed into you and you were only half-aware of the filth coming out of Joel’s mouth. The words, despite being completely debauched, seemed almost normal now. The only thing that caught you was how his expression twisted when you clenched down on him. How his fingers flexed around your hip. And how he then pushed you down on him, making it impossible for you to wriggle away as he came inside you.

You collapsed down against his chest, breathing in as much fresh air as you could get into his lungs. A thin sheen of sweat covered his neck and chest but you couldn’t have cared any less to lay your cheek against it. As your breathing began to even out, you felt one of Joel’s hands wrap around your backside and reach for his member. He eased himself out of you, humming to match the groan you let out.

It wasn’t the time to think about it, but you couldn’t get your mind off the thought of how long you’d get to keep Joel out here. If he’d stay with you a few days. Maybe a week. How were you ever going to leave your sister in a lurch, without help, if you returned back home. Home to Texas.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Despite having showered before sex, both you and Joel showered again after it. Bound to go back to your sister’s. But you were already back in bed waiting for him, while Joel rustled through his duffle bag in search of a clean shirt and pair of jeans. He’d already asked you in the shower what that funny look on your face was all about. But you’d told him it was nothing, and though he didn’t particularly like that answer, he didn’t press it at the time.

Now as he glanced over at you on the bed and saw the same look on your face, he figured he’d try again. “Spooked?”

You flicked your eyes over at him, “no. Just thinking about how I’m gonna have to leave her here with him.”

Joel nodded and slid a navy blue shirt over his head. “You can stay here as long as you need,” he tilted his head to the side. “I mean, you don’t have to rush home for me. I’m not goin’ anywhere,”

You nodded as he neared with a pair of jeans in his hands. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you and leaned in for a quick kiss. It was there and gone in a flash. Replaced by the feeling of his hand on your thigh.

“I know this is a weird thing to bring up but I feel like we should talk about it before we get too deep into this thing and it gets brutal or mes–”

“I hate this preface,” you mumbled, searching his face for any indication of what this apparently uncomfortable conversation was going to be.

“Do you want kids?” He caught your widening eyes and gripped into your thigh a little tighter as if to keep you both grounded in reality. “I can’t give you any, ‘cause you know… snipped. And before you say it’s reversible or anything, I don’t want to get it reversed.”

“I wasn’t going to say it’s reversible,” you pressed a smile.

“Well…” he took a breath. “I just don’t want to get too far into this if the answer is yes because then I won’t be able to give you what you want. And you deserve that… if you want it,”

“I don’t know. I haven’t met a man that I could see myself having kids with,”

“But what if that’s me?”

“It won’t be.” Off his shocked expression, you reached forward too and set your own hand on his leg, “I mean, if seeing myself with you means no kids, then that’s not even an option to consider if I see myself with you. It’s like you being young… it’s not an option,”

Joel smirked and raised his hands to your ribs to tickle you, “that was kinda mean.”

You nudged his hands away from you and leaned in instead, resting yourself against his chest. “Right now, at this moment, I’d rather have you and nothing than a sub-par husband and a kid,”

“I didn’t say nothin’ about getting married. The vasectomy got nothin’ to do with that,”

“We’ll see how it goes. No pressure. Y’know ‘cause in fifteen years you might be a real pain in my ass,” you winked.

He tackled you down to the bed and smothered your neck and face with endless kisses until you were laughing hysterically.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The following days passed slowly. For the first time in a long time, you were happy about that. Time wasn’t flying by before your very eyes. You had time to relish Joel. To be continually stunned by him every time he stepped up to do something for your nephew that your sister’s husband should’ve been doing. There was time to lounge and talk. To play around. To be told by an older woman in the grocery store that “you and your husband have made the cutest little boy”.

And when his flight home came a few days later, you drove him to the airport and clutched at his sweater with every ounce of strength you had. Told him you didn’t know when you’d be home, but it would be soon. And he didn’t ask you to clarify. Didn’t ask if that meant in a couple days, a week, or a month. Just cupped his hands over your cheeks and nodded. Told you it was okay. Trusted that you’d come home when you were ready to.

That only took about a week. One more week of watching your brother-in-law sit on his ass while you helped raise his child. You broke the news to your sister and she did her best to hide her fear and pain. You did your best to hide yours, too. On the way out, you also left her with some words of encouragement. To not let him sit on his ass. To force him to take an active role. And if he couldn’t, then to get the fuck out. Though she nodded and said she would, you knew she’d always stick around and be left unsatisfied.

Joel had told you to let him know when you were coming home. That he’d pick you up from the airport. But you decided to let him off the hook. To handle your own business and call an Uber to scoop you up.

He was in your front yard, mowing the lawn when you showed up. He let the gas engine rumble to a stop when the car pulled up. Stood, watching you, with his hands on his hips as you rounded to the trunk of your car and lifted out your suitcase though the driver came around to help you. You murmured an “I got it” to him and Joel found it endearing. How you said that to him on the first day you moved into the neighborhood and put up such a fight at his insistence to help. What he’d learn later, and what this sad Uber driver would never get the chance to learn, is that you were all bark and no bite.

You rolled your suitcase over the curb and let it fall to the half-cut grass. Got up in front of Joel and smirked at him, “you’re mowing my lawn?”

He smiled back. Much more pleasant. “Yeah. It was so long, it was bringing down my property value. You’re a bad neighbor,”

“Yeah,” you shifted your gaze to the grass momentarily. “Maybe I’ll be a better girlfriend,”

A red flush crept up over Joel’s cheeks. He nodded as if he was sure of it. “Probably not,”

Your jaw dropped and you slapped his chest playfully.

Joel caught your hands and held them against him. He leaned in for a kiss. Something rather chaste, but he inhaled to take you in before he stood back up. With a nod in the direction of his house, he smiled again, “go on to the house. I got a fresh pot of coffee goin’.”

“I want to shower,”

“Shower there. I got clothes,”

You pointed at your suitcase, “I have laundry.”

“I’ll bring it in. Go on.” He nodded again in the direction of his home, “I’ll meet you there after I finish up here,”

You relented and made off for his home after one more kiss. Before you’d even fully crossed the street, you heard his old push mower roar back to life. With his front door unlocked, you stepped inside and came face to face with a vase full of fresh cut flowers on the table in the entryway. Like he’d been expecting you the whole time.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the one you need

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cobaltperun · 2 days ago

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Eternal Flame (8) - City Lights

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

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Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

Word Count: 8.1k

-So when I touch that sky, will the ladder break? And who will be there on my fall from grace?-

You managed to dry your hair a lot easier and quicker than you thought you would, but you still remained in the bathroom, trying to calm your nerves down. This was it. You were at Jenna's house, you've sort of met her family, or at least a part of it, and you made things a bit awkward. Which was not what you wanted to do, and the last thing you wished for right now was to make things even more awkward. Your wishes meant nothing, however, because the way you would be meeting them now would be doing exactly that. It would be bizarre, absolutely ridiculous, because you wouldn't be coming in from the outside, you would be coming from upstairs, where just to make it even more awkward, their bedrooms were, down to the living room.

If you weren't so nervous it probably would have crossed your mind that it looked like Jenna had brought her lover over to her home in the middle of the night. And now that lover was coming down to meet her family after a long night together.

Damn rain.

Embarrassment and awkward meetings aside, the pain was also getting a bit uncomfortable, so you reached into your bag and downed two pills to help you with the pain. “OK, I can do this,” you whispered, and took several deep breaths, just to buy yourself a bit more time. Finally, you plucked up the courage and went back to Jenna's room to see her hastily folding her shirts. She was chewing on her lower lip, and you figured she was even more embarrassed than you. You weren't lying to her, you really did find this endearing and it really wasn't as messy as she thought it was.

Jenna looked up when she heard the doors closing, you probably should have knocked, but in your defense she left the doors opened. She looked you over, pretty much checking you out as you wore the light gray shirt that belonged to her father. It was a bit big for you, since as strong as you were you had more of a lean build than a bulky one, but it would do.

“You look nervous,” she pointed out and walked up to you, but there was no denying that both of you were feeling like that.

You just shrugged, hoping to play it cool, more for your own sake than any other reason. “I'm not really used to meeting the family,” you admitted, having no troubles in expressing how you felt about this. You wanted to meet them, you were eager to do so, but there definitely was some sort of nervousness about the entire ordeal. After all, you did have feelings for Jenna.

Jenna smiled and slowly, rather gently, caressed your cheek. “They’ll love you, just like-“ and she paused, catching herself before she could finish that sentence but you could see it in the startled expression on her face and the way her hand froze. If anyone asked you, you wouldn’t be able to say what exactly happened, but you were overcome with feelings and in that moment you just pulled her in holding her tightly and actually lifting her up. Jenna, though for a moment startled by the display affection, quickly hugged you back, squeezing you tightly around your shoulders and neck. She took a deep breath as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. “-like I do,” she finished that sentence and kissed your cheek. “And I really, really do love you a lot,” she whispered her voice shaky, the tone of it trembling and betraying the slight insecurity she felt.

“I love you too. Jenna, you mean so much to me,” you couldn't even begin to describe everything she meant to you. Even if you found the words that could describe your feelings, you couldn't tell her without telling her about the fights. And at that moment, as you felt both the warmth of her presence, and the pain from the bruises, you came to a startling realization. You trembled for a moment, almost overcome by the sense of clarity that you suddenly got. You were almost ready to just give it all up, to push through and quit fighting, to end the cycle and find a way, any way you could, to actually feel worthy of loving her.

“Y/N,” your name fell from her lips, and you were fairly certain no one had ever nor will anyone ever speak your name as sweetly as she did.

“Jenna what's taking so long? Oh shit, sorry,” the two of you were suddenly interrupted by Jenna’s younger sister, Aliyah, coming in and you quickly separated.

Jenna cleared her throat as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart down and gestured toward Aliyah. “This is my younger sister, Aliyah,” she then gestured at you while slightly glaring at her sister. “Aliyah, this is Y/N,” she introduced the two of you each other since you were already in the same room. Might as well get one introduction out of the way.

You quickly offered Aliyah your hands and she shook. “It's nice to meet you,” you said and she nodded, an amused smile spreading on her face as she looked from you to Jenna.

“Guess I don't get a hug, do I?” she teased, and with the way Jenna looked down and slapped her forehead you just knew this wasn’t going to be the only teasing you and Jenna were going to get. “Reeree, I told you to warn me if you needed a room to yourself,” oh, this was the absolute disaster, she was even more direct about it than Enrique. She might even be able to give Barbara a run for her money, and she was what? Sixteen? You shivered at the thought of all the teasing you and Jenna might have to endure when she gets older, or in the even worst case scenario, she ends up teaming up with Barbara.

“That’s not what was going on!” Jenna cried out and just as Aliyah was about to open her mouth again Jenna grabbed your hand and pulled you out. “Not a single word, we are going down so Y/N can meet everyone else!” Jenna put a stop to whatever Aliyah was going to say and you let Jenna pull you along as Aliyah laughed behind the two of you.

Yeah, this was happening, you were about to meet the family.

~X~

Fire. That's exactly how Jenna would describe what was going on between the two of you. Even now, though she could no longer feel your hands around her, she still felt like her skin was burning, yearning for the same sensation she got when you held her. The same sensation she was trying to invoke by holding your hand right now, but it just wasn't enough. She wanted more, she wanted that warmth to be surrounding her again, to feel it consuming her from the inside. It was both a physical and an emotional need, and they were both fulfilled at the same time when she felt your touch. And it felt so damn good, so addictive.

She glanced back at you, noticing the way your eyes were focusing on your hands, locked together as you walked just a bit behind her, and she wondered what you were thinking. You felt this too, didn’t you? Jenna found herself wondered if the two of you would have kissed if only you were given a few extra minutes, because she certainly felt like she was ready for that step.

You lifted her up so easily. And the way you held her, she couldn't even describe it properly. The closest description she could come up with was that you held her like you had nothing more precious in your life than her. And it almost frightened her with how intense and raw it was, how genuine and vulnerable you could be. Not to mention how you responded to her own vulnerability not by making her feel ashamed for acting like that but by supporting her through it and letting her see that you were perfectly fine with her being vulnerable.

And she wanted it almost desperately. She wanted to feel all of that with you, to feel all of those emotions, only unrestrained by this friendship, because as raw and intense as it was there was this restraint put on it all by the label you both put on your relationship. And she could no longer avoid accepting that she wanted that restraint gone.

Jenna knew, she one hundred percent knew, that if circumstances were any different, if you were alone, at her place in LA or at your place, and if that happened there that she wouldn’t just kiss you. No, she would have done so much more, letting you do whatever you wanted to do to her. She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing her mind out of the gutter.

And to try and keep those thoughts at bay, because she wouldn’t be a hormonal teenager right now, she went and looked back at you. Because of course that would help push those thoughts away.

As she led you down the stairs, she caught you taking her childhood home in, looking at the photos her parents hung on the walls. There were many of them, after all they were a big family, and the photos showed that. There were photos of her, her siblings and her parents, as well as her nephews and even some of her extended family. Her mom loved keeping the memories through the photos and Jenna wished she could get into that habit as well. Every special occasion was accompanied with the photo, and she wondered how your own parents house was. Were there photos of you while you were filming Logan or maybe when you finished high school or maybe other things like that? Or maybe your parents were more of a ‘keeping things in memory’ kind of couple, instead of hanging everything on the walls and keeping the physical reminders of those times.

Jenna wanted to meet them. To see for herself the kind of people that raised you and made you the way you were right now. With how loving you were they must have done something right. In a way, and perhaps she just noticed it today, you treated every moment with people you loved like it could be the last one. And not in the negative way. It was just that when you cared for someone and could also relax all of your attention was on that someone.

And that realization brought those desires right back to the front of her mind. How deeply and passionately would you love someone if you treated friends like that? Jenna wondered what you were thinking right now, she wondered if you wanted her as much as she wanted you. Somehow a thought crossed your mind that you wanted her even more. And it made that warmth from the spreading through her like a flame that would never extinguished.

When the two of you reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped back into the living room, she saw the table was set, with her dad already sitting there at the head of the table, while her mom and Markus were watching a football game. It was like her family was creating a sort of a bubble around them, hoping to have a moment of normalcy before your presence sort of shattered it into pieces. After all, they all probably saw right through her and by now knew this wasn't just her inviting friends over.

Jenna cleared her throat and the bubble the family was happily in burst as they all turned to look at you and Jenna.

“Uh, hello, again” you said and raised your hand to wave slightly. That nervous grin on your face was honestly more than a little endearing to Jenna. She found this a bit more shy and reserved side of you to be a surprise, if she was honest. You've always had this air of confidence and ‘I can do anything’ kind of attitude, but here you were, meeting her family and acting a bit like a dork, which was something she could definitely enjoy seeing more often.

Jenna’s mom was the first to get up, seeing as she met you briefly. It was clear all of you were trying to ignore that you came back from upstairs and how it looked. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again,” she came up to you and surprisingly pulled you into a brief hug. You returned it, but Jenna could see you were genuinely surprised by this greeting.

“Jenna can’t shut up about you,” Jenna’s sister, Aliyah, chimed in behind you. Oh, right, she came downstairs with the two of you, and now she was going to turn Jenna's day from very, very pleasurable to potentially ‘The Teasing from Hell - Part 2: The Return of Enrique’s Disciple’.

It was one hell of a miracle that he wasn’t here as well, since he promised he’d be here to watch the show and tease her. Not that it mattered. Aliyah was here to fill in for him. Why couldn’t Aliyah be her natural shy self instead of relishing in the opportunity to tease her?

“I can!” Jenna quickly retorted and turned away from you. She did not deny that she was talking about you though, she just couldn’t deny it, or, honestly, shut up about you. She's been talking about you meeting her family ever since she plucked up the courage to tell then you were coming, and she would be the first to admit it was a bit annoying.

“Sure you can, Jenna,” Markus teased her and just like that her younger brother came up to you and greeted you, and all that was left was her dad.

The man came out of the dining room and looked you over, studying you, And Jenna herself got nervous imagining how you must have felt under his gaze. He was a cop, after all, and worst of all Jenna wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for. She just noticed he focused on your hand, and not the left hand she was holding, but rather on your right hand, and your knuckles in particular. Jenna couldn't quite figure it out, but he frowned for a moment. “You do lots of martial arts, don't you?” he asked, and Jenna couldn’t figure out how looking at your fist told him that, and sure, he heard about it from Jenna, but it looked like he would have figured it out from looking at your fist.

“Yes, I've been practicing different martial arts for several years now. Since I was roughly thirteen,” you replied casually, and her dad nodded. Frankly, she wasn't sure what else he was expecting.

“Welcome, Y/N, nice to meet you,” after what felt like eternity he went and offered his hand to you, and you accepted it.

“It’s nice meeting you all,” you said, now sounding a lot more confident than before and she breathed out a small sigh of relief because this was more along the lines of what she expected from you.

“Come on you two, let’s eat,” her mom told the two of you, and while still holding hands Jenna and you followed the rest of her family to the table. Just like before you went and pulled the chair out for her, now feeling a lot more in your element, as you pretty much, and very likely now that she thought about it, ignored the stares of her family and just focused on doing what you did the best. Making Jenna feel seen, cared for, and accepted.

“Thanks,” this time she had to hold from tugging you down so you could hug her again and instead just patted you on the back of your hand as you pushed her chair in.

“Anytime,” you said and sat down on the chair to her left.

~X~

The lunch was, in one word, amazing. Natalie was an incredible cook, both when it came to variety and the taste, making a wide array of Mexican food as well as several other dishes. You honestly weren’t even sure where to start as Jenna put the food on your plate. Natalie and Aliyah were sitting on the other side of the table, while Markus sat to your left and Edward sat at the head of the table, on Jenna’s right side.

“Thanks, Jen,” you thanked her before you all started eating, you missed the smile on Natalie’s face at the nickname you kept using.

“Could you pass me the hot sauce?” she asked pointing at the sauce close to you. By the looks of it, you both slipped right back into the old habits from the set of Scream.

“Sure,” you handed it to her, and then put it back where it was when she poured it over her tacos. She definitely loved spicy food, and you were still amazed with how well she could handle hot food.

“The food is amazing, Natalie,” you complimented as you swallowed the first bite of your own taco. It was good that Jenna told you in advance her mom was the one who prepared the food.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Natalie nodded and smiled at the compliment.

“Told you, you have competition,” Jenna pointed out. “Too bad I couldn’t save a single piece of that cake for you.”

“I don’t know, this is a tough act to follow,” and you were being honest, you could cook, but this was truly something. “But, challenge accepted, I need to have all of you over for a dinner sooner or later,” and you would actually put extra effort into that dinner. Cooking wouldn’t be an issue, the main trouble would be how you could handle finding enough space for all of them, because your apartment definitely wasn't fit for a huge family. Well, you would figure something out when the time comes.

“Count me in, I need to see if Jenna was exaggerating,” Aliyah promised you and you grinned a bit when Jenna groaned and lowered her head. “I'm telling you, she just keeps yapping on and on about you! I wasn't kidding when I said I told her to tell me if she needed the room to herself,” you shrunk a bit in your seat because of Aliyah’s words. Both the fact that Jenna talked about you so much and the implications of the second part making you feel more than a bit embarrassed.

“I don't need the room to myself!” Jenna exclaimed, blushing like crazy when she said that, and you closed your eyes. Yet, even with your eyes closed you could see it coming from a mile away, that was just the interlude into the real tease.

“Considering what I caught the two of you doing, I'm not so sure,” there. There it was. And the silence that followed those words was deafening, and you could feel Jenna's parents looking right at you.

“You should probably run,” Jenna’s brother, Markus told you and your eyes widened as you looked at him and he just nodded. “It was good meeting you,” he wasn’t even joking! Jenna had dry humor, but this guy was just being serious!

“We were just hugging!” Jenna cried out, hoping to prevent the potential harm that could fall upon you and you nodded as quickly as you could. Now that you were thinking about it, well that wasn't really going in your favor either, because you spent hours with Jenna alone and somehow you were still hugging. Could it have been nothing? Absolutely! It could have been just a friendly display of affection between friends. Yet the circumstances weren't in your favor, and you found yourself staring blankly at Aliyah.

“What have I ever done to you?” you mouthed and she just shrugged. You were met with us sorry not sorry look in her eyes.

“Right, that happened,” Natalie turned back to her plate hoping to lower the tensions and the blood pressure of her husband, and then she looked at you again. “So, Y/N, can you tell us a bit about your family?”

Someone please bring the teasing back.

You froze for a moment, nearly dropping the fork in your hand. “Sure, sure,” your voice cracked as you were suddenly put on a spot. “Yeah, of course. I am an only child,” you could feel Jenna’s eyes on you, you could feel everyone’s attention on you, even more so with that initial reaction, and you looked at Jenna, partly to calm down and in the process catching the genuinely surprised look in her eyes. She clearly didn't expect you to freeze like that, and you definitely didn't blame her. You didn't think she could even begin to imagine that your parents were no longer alive.

“And your parents? What do they do?” Edward asked, raising an eyebrow but brushing the reaction off as just you being surprised.

“Mom was a pilot and dad worked in cybersecurity,” you replied, voice hoarse as you answered. Back when you were growing up both those jobs, and your parents as well, looked like heroes in your eyes. You looked up to them, always wanting to make them proud, they looked like they were flawless when you were a child. And they made sure you never noticed or suffered because of tension and problems in their marriage, they kept you as protected from those issues as they possibly could. Maybe that was part of the reason why you felt so inadequate and useless when they were gone and you couldn’t do anything, because they created this image of always having answers and solutions, and when it was your turn to do the same you failed.

The bite Jenna took of her salad went and got stuck in her throat and you quickly patted her on the back, which luckily helped. “Sorry. I should have… Fuck, I feel horrible now,” she lowered her head, ashamed and all you felt now was guilt over making her feel like this. She caught it, they all caught it, the fact that you spoke in past tense, combined with the fact that you never mentioned them to Jenna, and how you reacted to the question. There was no doubt about it in anyone’s mind.

“I'm sorry, let's not make this awkward. It was,” you paused, putting your emotions back under control, not letting a single hint of weakness slip through the cracks. “There was an accident and they,” you looked down, forcing those feelings further down, forcing the normality without this conversation back upon you all. “Yeah, it's been a while, I’m fine now,” you tried brushing it off, and fixing the situation. “Jenna told me you've been incredibly supportive of her ever since she was starting out and now of course. I've actually been really curious to know about it,” you tried to get her family to talk about something else and luckily given the nature of the topic that was just breached it looked like everyone was really eager to make things less awkward.

Jenna actually took your hand and squeezed it and she leaned closer to you, letting your shoulders touch and it was like the weight fell from your shoulders and you could once again breathe. No one said a single word about it, not the single teasing remark even though it was in plain sight and you appreciated it, smiling gently at her to show it to her.

~X~

The guilt was absolutely wrecking her from the inside, and she thought back to all of those times she wished she could meet your parents. And sure, you never told her your parents were dead, and there was no way she could have known but at the same time she also felt that she really should have figured out something wasn't completely right. And she noticed it, but she kept trying to come up with different explanation. You came back and only Barbara was in your apartment? You didn’t live with your parents. You forgot about Thanksgiving? Maybe you had a bad relationship with your parents, or they simply didn’t celebrate it. Yet it never crossed her mind that they were taken away from you in what you described as an accident.

How old were you? You said it’s been a while. Were you as old as she was now? Younger? She glanced at Aliyah and Markus, wondering how they would take losing their parents right now? Jenna herself knew she would fall apart if she suddenly lost them, and she probably wouldn’t be able to pick up the pieces any time soon. And she’d still have her siblings left! You were an only child, suddenly left without parents!

You were completely honest when you said you didn't want to make things awkward and you did everything humanly possible to get the mood up again and make her family feel no guilt over bringing your parents up. And she barely held back her tears at that. As she realized that whether consciously or unconsciously you felt like there was something wrong with sharing this and still feeling hurt over it, and that you needed to fix it.

And in that single moment of realization Jenna understood she was helpless. For so many reasons, and she couldn’t even turn to her parents for help. After all, her family wasn't exactly the best with handling emotions, especially since you were basically a stranger they only heard about from her. And the worst thing was that she couldn’t help you either. She watched you falling apart on the inside, cracking and trying to pull all the pieces back together like someone just shattered you. All the while she couldn’t do anything and was only reminded of the time she had her panic attack.

You came in and helped her, calmed her down, saved her from those feelings and understood exactly what she needed. Now here she was, seeing you were in pain and completely unable to figure out a way to help you, to make you hurt less. And that feeling only got worse by the realization that you were putting the feelings of her and her family over your own, trying to reset things for their sake. Touching you like this wasn’t enough, this minimal contact did nothing but reveal to her how you were trembling, the slight tremors of your body barely noticeable to those watching you, but she felt it against her.

She had to do something. “Excuse us for a moment,” she quickly got up and you looked at her, startled, as she pulled you to the hall, figuring out it would give you more privacy than the living room that wasn’t even entirely separated from the dining room and the kitchen.

“Jenna,” you began, and she didn’t even need to hear you out, she knew you’d tell her you were fine, so, instead of letting you utter that lie she just pulled you down until your face was buried in her neck.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, only knowing that losing her loved ones was her greatest fear, but not having any idea how to take it that next step further and relate to such a heavy loss. “Don’t hide it from me, please,” she pleaded, her fingers digging into your hair, her lips right next to your ear. “Please, Y/N,” she whispered, no longer even trying to hold her tears back.

And instead of opening up, instead of letting her help you, you brushed her tears away and hugged her. “I’m fine,” you told her, you lied, you weren’t ready to say it, but she could feel the tension in your body lessening just a bit. “I’m fine,” who exactly were you trying to convince? “I’m so sorry, Jenna,” you were so close to telling her something, she could tell, but at the same time deep down she knew this wouldn’t get her anywhere.

Yet you still fell to your knees, and Jenna followed you down, trying her best to hold you up, to keep you from crumbling. “I couldn’t. I had no other choice, I was desperate,” you gasped for air, and she found herself rubbing soft circles in your back, trying to mimic what you did to calm her down.

“I’m with you, I’ve got you,” she whispered, and brushed her thumb along your cheek, thinking she’d brush a tear off, yet there were no tears. “You have me,” and perhaps that lack of tears, the grief cocooned in some impenetrable armor, broke and hurt her the most. You wanted to fall apart in her arms, to let it all out, and you just didn’t know how. “Y/N,” she cried your name out and your breath hitched as you desperately held onto her.

“I can’t stop. Don’t deserve to stop,” you weren’t making sense, and she felt fear creeping into her heart. What couldn’t you stop? Why did she feel like she was losing you to whatever it was, to whatever you thought you didn’t deserve to stop? “Need it. I failed. Couldn’t continue, couldn’t- I- It’s not- I should have,” it wasn’t making sense.

“Please don’t, please just stop,” she pleaded, blurting those words out without realizing what they would mean to you, breaking with every word you spoke. Feeling a pain so visceral it was pushing her to her limits and it almost felt like she was physically hurting. She wanted you to stop, to take a breath and tell her everything properly, to open up and not just crack in random places. And you just shut your mouth. “Hey, hey wait, not like that,” she cried for you, only now realizing you thought she asked you to stop talking entirely. “Y/N, no, don’t. Talk to me,” it was too late, she lost the chance. The cracks sealed up and you just pushed it all down.

She felt you pulling away from her, and she pulled you back in, holding you there with all of her strength, almost clinging to you and keeping you in place with her entire weight. “I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean that,” but your breathing was once again steady and calm.

“Let’s just go back, your family is waiting,” you whispered, pulling her up to her feet and despite her efforts pulling away and smiling at her. “Thanks for trying,” you said and leaned back against the wall, and she shook her head, hugging you and burying her face in your chest, barely caring that her tears would be visible on the light gray shirt.

“This isn’t how I wanted things to go,” she wanted to help you, yet she failed. She didn’t have the right words, didn’t know how to reach you.

“I know,” you rubbed her back, calming her down when it was supposed to be the other way around. You were forcing yourself to be strong for her. Letting her cry her heart out for you.

“Please, I can’t lose you. Couldn’t take it and it felt like I was losing you,” she missed the way your eyes widened at those words. “Don’t want this with anyone else but you,” she wasn’t even sure what ‘this’ was, she just felt it so deep inside her heart. “I want all of you, Y/N,” and she wanted to give you all of her.

“I’ll fix it,” she nearly missed the words you whispered, almost too quietly, despite how close Jenna was to you. She certainly missed the look of absolute resolve in your eyes. Either way, for one hopeful moment she thought you had started talking again, but you didn’t say a single word after that. No. You just let her silently cry until her tears ran out, until your touch filled her with warmth once more, and only then you separated, and you wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Come on, food’s getting cold,” this time you were the one guiding her back to her family, putting on the mask of confidence and acting like what you went through didn’t come out.

So, Jenna would act like it as well, pretending in front of her family that pulling you away from them had a purpose, that it did something good for you, instead of just making you feel like you had to suppress your feelings around her. She would do it, and she wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was to help her family and prevent them from feeling guilty, maybe there was some other reason, at this point it hardly mattered.

You all seemed to just pretend that single minute at the table never happened.

And Jenna wasn’t sure if she should feel grateful or even more worried for you.

For now she could do nothing but look at you, observe you as you began talking to her family as if nothing happened, and bit by bit she began believing the illusion as well.

As the lunch ended Jenna watched you, almost mesmerized as you talked to her mom about the different foods and recipes. Her heart beat faster as she noticed how you focused on learning which food Jenna loved the most, picking up even more secrets and information that you didn't get to learn while you were on set together. This, you with her family, was something she could easily get used to. There was a slightly selfish part of her that hoped that's maybe one day would consider her family your own family and that it would at least slightly fill the void of loss you’ve been feeling for so long. Maybe that would be the thing to help you through the grief. Maybe she just wasn’t enough on her own.

"Are you kidding me?" your eyes widened, and you turned to Jenna. It was like the cracks never showed up, and you were perfectly fine. "You got apples three times?" you asked incredulously after her mom told you about the misfortune she had when she was doing ads. It wasn’t just your effort to cover up the cracks. It was her family as well, consciously making an effort not to help you with what you were feeling, but to cover it up, unsure what to do if it came up again.

Jenna swallowed the lump in her throat, tears once again threatening to fall as this realization hit her as well. Her family couldn’t fill that void, not without a huge effort on both sides, and while she knew her family loved her and that they would love you, she knew they wouldn’t have the time to put that kind of effort in. And while you were doing your absolute best to reset things back to how they were before they all found out your parents were dead Jenna was once more struggling to do her part.

She was an actress, and right now she needed to play a role with you, to fake it until it turned to reality. So, so half blacked-out, pretending she was just acting. She frowned at the memory. She despised apples now. "Yeah, I think I'd rather starve than eat them ever again. I can't even look at them without feeling angry," she finished with a laugh, a bit forced but it worked, it did the job.

You joined her and leaned back a bit, your smile looking a lot lighter and easier than her own. "Good thing I never got the urge to make an apple pie," you may have said that, but Jenna could see you cataloguing her hatred toward apples for later. Somehow she also believed that you would make even an apple pie taste good.

"As long as you make it just make it spicy and vegetarian and Jenna will love it," Aliyah seemed to be dead set on embarrassing her. She even patted you on the back a few times as she went to put away her plate. This time Jenna let it slide because it genuinely made you smile, and that was all she cared about right now, that you were actually fine and not just forcing yourself to be happy.

"And you have to learn how to make guac," Markus just added fuel to the fire. And you just added another information to wherever you were filing the information you were getting. Even if she would much rather make guac for you herself. More than a few times, and preferably often, many, many times, just for the two of you.

"I need to make urnebes salad for you," you said directly to her. "Red bell peppers, chili peppers, cheese, it's a nice, spicy salad," that definitely sounded like something she would like, and she absolutely wanted you to make things for her. Wanted to experience so much with you, try new foods, try new things in general with you, and having you in her life as much as possible.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Jenna told you and you just grinned.

“Okay, how about we all go outside and take a group selfie?” her mom suggested taking Jenna by surprise. You did what you intended, you got everything back on track, even when you were the one that the most affected by all of this. That should have made her relax but it just made her heart clench painfully at that thought.

So, she focused on what was going on instead of on what she was feeling. Her mom definitely loved taking photos, keeping the memories of good times lasting longer and documenting anything she deemed important or worthy of a photo. So, maybe she shouldn’t have been as surprised, but it still felt a bit unexpected, and she hoped you didn’t mind. Looking at your face she didn’t notice any changes, or discomfort.

Granted, you just showed her you absolutely could mask any pain you felt in pretty much an instant. This seemed genuine though, this really seemed like you didn’t mind taking a photo with her family.

So, you followed after her into the backyard where the two of you and her family got ready for her mom to take the photo. What she didn’t expect was for you to suddenly mess up her hair just as her mom took the selfie.

Apparently, you were actually back to normal, and the grin on your face proved it to her.

“Oh my,” her mom chuckled, and Jenna saw her hair was covering most of her face on the photo.

“Y/N,” she spoke calmly, but you already began running, and fine, if that was how you were going to act, then she could play that game too. “It’s fine, I promise!” she exclaimed as she began chasing you, you were laughing and it truly was fine but as long as you were laughing then she was going to keep chasing after you. Just to listen to your laughter for a bit more, because after what happened in the hall, she needed this. She needed you to laugh with her, to tease her, to make her flustered and blush, and make her heart beat wildly inside her chest.

“Then why are you chasing me?” you laughed and Jenna found herself grinning as well, especially when she heard her family holding back their own laughs. This was what she wanted, seeing you like this, free from that tension from before.

She didn’t see this side of you on the set, the childish, silly side that somehow ended up relaxing her even more. “Because you’re running!” it made no sense, but she truly didn’t care. For some reason you got tired a bit quicker than she expected you would, and she smirked speeding up and catching you from behind, hugging you tightly. “Got you,” she laughed and leaned her forehead against your back as she caught her breath.

“Yeah, you got me,” you sounded so genuine, and she could have sworn there was a double meaning to those words. She just didn’t understand it yet.

She wanted to tell you more, but the words got stuck in her throat and despite spending over half an hour thinking about it she suddenly wasn't sure she even had the right words to say to you. “You have me,” she spoke, hoping against hope that those three worlds would convey everything she felt. That they would be enough for you to know that she was with you completely, no matter what happened, no matter what the future brought. She needed you to know that you had her on your side and that you could turn to her at any moment for anything.

“You have me too,” you replied and relief flooded her heart. You understood and then you turned around and she was sure you would hug her back. Jenna looked you in the eyes, expecting a hug, only to be met by a mischievous look on your face as you went and booped her on the nose. “Let’s go back before your parents kill me,” you joked and she rolled her eyes, letting you go and walking slightly ahead of you.

“They wouldn’t,” she denied it as the two of you began heading back toward the house. Her family was already back inside, clearly giving the two of you a moment.

“You think? Your dad is a cop and in his eyes, I’m trying to seduce his baby girl,” you whisper shouted just loud enough for her to hear and she burst out laughing.

“Guess you'll have to set your sight on another girl then, won't you,” even as she joked back she had to admit there was a hint of jealousy in her voice at the mere thought of you with another girl.

Then, as if you sensed just how much power your touch had over her, you pulled her back and into your arms. And Jenna gasped as she felt your left hand on the small of her back, keeping her body pressed right against yours. And the look in your eyes? Jenna found herself melting at the intensity and raw emotion in your gaze. “I can’t,” you didn’t need to say another word. You made your message very, very clear.

“Good to know,” her voice cracked several times in those three words and she forced herself to just very slowly step away from you because her legs weren't exactly steady right now. It wasn’t a day of ups and downs with you today, it was a rollercoaster, and it was clear both of you were trying to bring things back to how they usually were by taking things up to eleven.

~X~

Two hours later you've gotten quite comfortable around Jenna's family, even though you could still see the somewhat scary that look Edward was giving you every time you and Jenna got particularly close to one another. Just another proof that the incident from lunch was mostly forgotten, and the way Jenna reacted to your admission that you couldn’t find another girl told you things between the two of you would be fine as well.

There seemed to be a silent conversation between Jenna and her mother until Jenna finally groaned and got up, leaving you on your own with her family from the looks of it.

“Can’t escape the dishes not even in a situation like this,” she half-jokingly complained to you and you automatically jumped to your feet. “Wait, what are you doing?” she asked, laughing as she pushed you slightly, though quite frankly you were barely feeling her efforts to get you back to sit down.

“Going to help you, of course,” you could see she was about to argue against it, and you quickly argued in favor of your plan before she do so. “I have a plane to catch very soon, let's do this one last thing together and then I can be on my way?” you tried to talk her into it and from the looks of it, it was working. Much like you, Jenna wanted to spend more time with you.

“Fine, but you only get to dry the dishes,” Jenna smiled softly as you pumped your fist in celebration. Granted, the reaction, while genuine, was a bit exaggerated, but you wanted to see her smiling, she didn’t smile that often since lunch. And you didn’t want to leave her like this, you wanted her happy, thinking back to this day fondly. You went into the kitchen where there were plenty of dishes from today's lunch. “Are you sure I can’t help you with more than just drying?” you asked and leaned on the counter next to her as she pulled out some cloth for you to dry the dishes with.

“Absolutely,” she began wiping any of the leftovers off the dishes and putting them back into the sink and you caught yourself just watching her. She was focused on the task and was actually even humming a bit. You didn't quite recognize the song but just listening to Jenna like this was more than enough for you. There was a very comfortable silence in the room, filled with occasional glances and chuckles, as if you were in on an inside joke that no one else knew about and you couldn’t even begin to describe how relieved you were because of that.

“You're staring,” she giggled and returned the favor as she booped your nose with a soap covered finger.

And you suddenly sneezed, barely getting enough time to cover your mouth. The soap kind of made you sneeze. “I was about to say you're beautiful, but I guess it won't work after this,” you rolled your eyes, silently cursing the timing of your sneeze.

“Goof,” Jenna rolled her eyes and you just chuckled at that, happy that everything was once more completely comfortable between you.

She finally handed you a plate to dry and 10 minutes later the two of you had finished washing the dishes and you were about to go and grab your bag. As much as you enjoyed this, you would have to leave in the next 10 to 15 minutes.

“So, this is it?” she said and you could see a question on the tip of her tongue.

“It was a good day,” you didn't even leave yet and you already felt this sense of longing for her. You couldn't tell when would be the next time you would see her, and right then and there, in what was possibly the worst moment, right in her parents’ kitchen, you nearly said it. You nearly told her what you were doing, because she deserved to know. You were both heading toward the point of no painless return. If this kept going even for a bit longer you would just end up hurting Jenna by keeping her in the dark. And you couldn’t have that. “I-“

But before you could say anything Natalie came up to the two of you. “Y/N,” she called out your name.

“Yes?” you weren't sure if you were relieved or not that you were interrupted like this.

“We've been thinking and it would really be a shame for you to go back to Denver today. You've been here for not even half a day and we have a free room,” she began and your eyes widened as you realized where this was going. “Aliyah can go and sleep in Mia's room, and Jenna can take Aliyah's bed so you can sleep in Jenna’s,” you glanced at Jenna and saw the look of pure happiness spreading on her face and that just took away all of your capability to argue against Natalie’s idea.

“I,” you still turned to Jenna with a raised eyebrow. “Do you want this?” you asked her. “It’s OK if you don't want it,” you assured Jenna, but her mom just chuckled, realizing much better than you just how ridiculous that idea was.

“And if I want you to stay?” Jenna asked a bit cheekily.

The answer was simple. “Then I'll stay,” and so the decision was made. You would be staying the night.

“I am betting my bed will remain empty tonight!” Aliyah yelled from the living room, embarrassing both you and Jenna.

Aliyah was absolutely wrong.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x female reader #x reader #x female reader

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intoanotherworld23 · 5 hours ago

Text

Slow Burning Desire

Summary: Marcus Acacius is known for his quick brutality on the battlefield, but when it comes to making love with you he’s the complete opposite

Warnings: explicit content, mature themes, smut, unprotected sex, cheating themes, infidelity, slightly dominant Marcus, submissive reader, minor spanking, dirty talk

A/N: Welp holy hell after seeing Gladiator 2 last weekend it’s been on my mind since then, and it’s all I can think about so before I have a complete mental breakdown over it I of course have to write something! I plan on doing one for Paul Mescal who played Lucius next. If you wish to be added to my Pedro tag list don’t hesitate to ask I would be more than happy to add you! Thanks everyone so much and enjoy! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

Tag list for Pedro Pascal: @pedrohoe04 @k-k0129 @livingdeadmaria @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @milly-louise @kittenlittle24 @trisaratops-mcgee @subconsciouscollapse @hooked-on-penapascal27 @red-red-rogue @fellinfromthetop @drewharrisonwriter @vickie5446 @millerfan @lover-of-books-and-tea @bbyanarchist @justajoelsreader

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

"That's it nice and slow. Take your time my lady." Marcus’s low voice whispers in your ear as you sink down on his length. Hands on his shoulders to keep yourself upright. Gasping as you feel your walls stretching around him. Adjusting to how thick he really is and enjoying the feeling.

Turning your gaze to the stone wall trying to avoid his intense stare across your face. Biting down on your arm to return your attention back to him. Chuckling at how shy you suddenly become with such an intimate moment. Leaning forward more to feel your chest against his so your hearts beat as one.

"Can you feel all of me?" Keeping his voice just above a whisper not wanting the guards or other servants to hear.

"Yes, Marcus." Mumbling while lifting your hips up just above the tip before pushing him back in. Hands on the fat of your ass squeezing the flesh softly in his palms.

"Does my angel want more of her general?" Nodding your head worried nothing but moans and gasps would slip out. Your fists now tugging on the nape of his hair fingernails scratching along his neck sure to leave a mark. Marcus didn't mind in the least bit.

Stroking soothing circles on your skin as he raised his hips to get a deeper angle. He's warm and soft and incredibly deep. Feeling his lips glide across your face as you flex your muscles to lift your legs. Both creating a rhythmic motion so you two were in sync.

"Take it easy my love do not hurt yourself." He directs you while he pats your ass in warning. Of course you're so lost in the feeling of his cock. The candles illuminating your bodies casting shadows around the room.

"I need you Marcus." You plea with him pathetically that tears start to form in your eyes. He hated to see you in so much pain that you had to beg him. "Please I can’t take this much more."

"I'm right here my lady. I'm not going anywhere." Reassuring you with a loving smile on his face showing off his dimples. Gripping your hips to drill his pelvis directly up into yours. His brows furrowing in concentration as he could feel you squeezing him so tightly. Like you were afraid he would leave and you would be empty.

"I- I need you." Choking out as you looked into his dark brown eyes that were glazed over. It was like you were the only person in this world, and all you had was each other. Both of you living in this moment like it was the last.

"By the gods so desperate for me." His voice dripping like honey so sweet and infectious it had you melting in the palm of his hand. One of his hands wedging between your sweaty bodies to connect with your puffy clit. Circling the sensitive nub hoping to get you closer to your orgasm.

Resting your head on his shoulder feeling the stretch of your thighs as it began to burn. Marcus could see you struggling to keep up with his thrusting. Taking matters into his own hands as his arms clasped behind your back and he began to buck into you. Pressing his lips together and holding his breath to the point his face turned beet red.

"Oh gods just like that." Encouraging him as he hit that sweet spot directly now causing your body to stiffen.

Flexing his abdomen as he ruts into you feeling him all the way in your stomach rigid and hard. With this comfortable position that he kept you in grateful that he was able to give you what you wanted. Marcus felt like he was in control and he became drunk on the power.

"Fuck my cock it's all yours." Walls clamping down at his crude words snickering at your reaction. Marcus looking at your unbelievably disheveled face even when you were a sweaty mess he still thought you looked beautiful. It was his favorite look on you. "All I want is to feel is you release around me.”

Crying out as you gripped onto Marcus’s body like your life depended on it. Toes curling as your whole body shook and crumbled into a heaping mess. Chest rising and falling with each quick breath. Stomach trembling with the resounding orgasm that you had just experienced. It was intense and overpowering you felt like you might pass out. Your cunt sore from the beating that you just took stretching you out.

His touch so gentle and comforting as he helped ease you through your release. Soft kisses up and down your shoulders as he rubbed his fingers nimbly up and down your back. This was the Marcus that you loved so delicate with you and enjoying every inch of you.

"Took me so well, my stunning Venus. Such a good fucking woman for me." Praises whispered in your ear as he remained still inside of you neither of you wanting to move. Smiling lazily at him as you relax into his arms ready to stay like this for the rest of your life.

#Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal blurb #Pedro pascal x reader #marcus acacius #Marcus acacius smut #Marcus acacius blurb #Marcus acacius x reader #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator ll #gladiator II smut #pedro pascal gladiator

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 days ago

Text

Your Period ~ Love That Burns

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST / EVERYDAY MOMENTS MASTERLIST

Word Count: 1,060ish

Summary: Logan learns to handle your period.

Notes: Hope this lives up to what people want! This fic goes with my series, Love That Burns! Please give it a read!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Logan never really paid much attention to your period until the two of you moved out of the mansion. The first time it happened, Logan came home from work to the smell of blood. It immediately had him on high alert.

“Y/N?” He called, looking around the house for you. “Y/N!”

“In here!” You groaned.

Logan rushed into the bedroom to find you curled up in a ball. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Logan. I’m fine.”

“I smell blood. You most definitely aren't fine.” He came around and sat next to you on the bed. “Are you hurt? Did someone show up here? Where’s the blood—“

You laughed, hand coming up to his arm. “Logan, I can’t believe you haven't sensed it before.”

“Sensed what?”

“I’m on my period.”

“Your… period?”

“Yes. It’s something that happens once a month. Can be painful, lasts for a few days. Can effect—“

“Your moods.”

“Bingo.” You whined, curling up further, as a few cramps rippled through.

“What can I do?”

“It’s fine, Logan. I can handle it. I have for years now.”

“You sure?”

You nodded against the pillow. “I’m sure. Just give me a few minutes and I can get up and make dinner.”

“No. I can handle it.”

“You sure? I can—“

“Let me do this.”

~~~

You ended up falling asleep while Logan got dinner ready. He put together dinner, placed it on a tray, and headed for the bedroom. He hated the idea of waking you, but you needed to eat. Logan placed the tray on the nearby dresser before going over to you. His hand ran up your arm and neck until he was cupping your cheek, thumb gently rubbing over it.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he said gently. You groaned as you began to wake. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Okay, let me go to the bathroom first,” you mumbled.

Logan helped you up as you were still sleepy. A red spot caught his eye on the bed, causing his eyes to snap to the sweats you were wearing. “Honey, you, uh, you—“

“I’m sorry,” your emotions got the better of you, causing you to tear up.

“Hey, no, stop that,” Logan moved to stand in front of you, holding onto your shoulders. "I'll throw the bedding in the wash, you take a shower."

“But dinner—"

“Can wait.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I’ll set out some clothes, go.”

He turned you around and guided you into the bathroom. He slipped out, leaving the door ajar behind him so that he could have easier access to you. Logan moved quickly, grabbing a new pair of underwear for you, a pair of his sweatpants, and one of his shirts. He snuck them into the bathroom before taking care of the bedding and replacing it with clean ones.

The shower turned off soon after the bed had been refreshed, allowing Logan a few more moments to set up dinner on the bed. He was finishing setting dinner up when you exited the bathroom. You shuffled over to Logan, wrapping your arms around him from behind.

“Thank you,” you grumbled.

Logan chuckled as you clung to him, preventing him from trying around. “No need to thank me, sweetheart. It’s part of my job.”

~~~

A few months later, Logan was about to head home from work when he received a call from you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Logan greeted.

“Hey, babe,” you replied. “Can you swing by the store and pick up some things for me?”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“I need ice cream, chips, as well as tampons and pads with wings.”

“Is it already that time again?” He chuckled.

“Yes, and I’m having some serious cravings, so please hurry.”

“You got it. I'll be home soon with the needed supplies.”

“Thanks! Love you!”

“Love you, too.”

Logan reached the store, quickly grabbing several different ice cream and chip flavors. With some trepidation, Logan made his way to the feminine care aisle. He grabbed a few boxes of tampons that he recognized before pausing in front of the shelves of pads. He didn't recognize any of them. Your request for pads with wings came back into his mind. Did you mean pads with wings or pads with chicken wings? You did say that you were having cravings. Maybe that is what you wanted for dinner?

Logan grabbed two different types of pads, one with wings and one without, from the same brand of tampons. Before he checked out, Logan grabbed some fresh, hot chicken wings from the store and headed home.

“I’m back!” Logan exclaimed, entering the house with all the groceries. He headed to the kitchen, where you met him.

“Thanks, honey," you kissed his cheek as he set the items on the counter. You looked at the items, quickly noticing the different types of pads and the container of chicken wings. “Logan, what's this?” You tapped on the container of wings.

“I didn’t know if you wanted pads with wings or pads with wings. You said that you were having cravings. and I didn't know if chicken wings were one of your cravings.” You couldn't help but break out into a fit of laughter. “If you don’t want them, I can—“

"No, no, no! Everything is perfect. You did great.”

“You sure?"

“Positive."

~~~

Another time, your cramps were really getting the best of you. You tried to use your powers as a heating pad, but it wasn't working. Logan could tell that you were in pain and was struggling to watch you.

“You need to tell me what to do, sweetheart," Logan pled, moving from one of his feet to another as he stood next to you. You were curled up on the bed, whining in pain. “I have to do something.”

“Just… hold me,” you requested.

“Do you want me in front or behind?”

“Behind.”

Logan quickly came around the bed and crawled in behind you. “Do you want me anywhere specific?”

“I need your hands.”

Logan wrapped his arms around you. You took his hands and guided them to your lower stomach. The warmth of his hands immediately began to help you. You sighed, relaxing into him.

“You good?” Logan whispered, wanting to make sure he was actually helping.

“Getting there,” you replied quietly. “Just don’t move.”

He pressed a kiss under your ear. “Not planning on it, sweetheart.”

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nickfowlerrr · 3 days ago

Text

crystal clear and smudgy

pairing: personal trainer!lance tucker x curvy!reader / just a little tiny hint of bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. kinda established undefined relationship. no explicit smut but sexual content. talks of working out. just a little tiny hint of bucky x reader. steve rogers has a blink and you’ll miss it appearance. mentions of oral. some shades of degradation at the beginning. cursing. bits of fluff. mention of reader having a degradation and a praise kink. little ooc lance bc he’s way sweeter and a lot more bearable here than he is in the bronze 💀 not edited simply bc i didn’t want to edit it - apologies for any mistakes. if something needs to be tagged pls lmk!

words: 4k

notes: not expecting much interaction for this one but if you do so happen to give it a read, i’d love to know what you think! personally - i really loved writing this one ☺️ as always, reblogs and comments are more than welcome and so appreciated. thank you for reading! 🩵

“Let’s go, princess, one more set,” he orders, standing over you as you lay on the ground, collapsed and completely warn out by the last twelve reps. At this angle you could just lift your leg and hit him right where it hurts.

And he’d deserve it, too.

You’re distracted from the thoughts of kicking your own personal menace by the feeling of him kicking you. Right in your side. Not anywhere near close enough to hurt, but just enough to piss you off.

“Don’t fucking kick me,” you swat at him, “jackass.”

“You just gonna lay there and take it?” he challenges, walking further up your body so he’s standing over your chest now.

By the smirk that curves his lips, you can tell he’s about to say something else as your already hot body heats further under his burning gaze. He knows what he’s doing and you want to hate him for it.

He lifts a foot, holding eye contact with you as he brings it to your chest, pressing down with just enough of his weight to ensure that you can feel it as your mouth goes dry and your head goes empty.

“We both know how well you can take it,” he taunts, stepping just a little harder as your hands fly up to his shoe and push on his foot a bit as a stilted gasp - a gasp and not a moan - leaves you.

A moment later the chime sounds at the entrance of the gym, signaling the arrival of another. Lance’s smirk taunts you a second longer, that glimmer of mischief still twinkling in his eye before he steps over you.

Your eyes follow him as he leaves the weight room to greet whoever it is at the front desk. It’s a Wednesday so you know he isn’t coaching any gymnastic classes, and he stopped taking other clients on Wednesdays after the second time you found yourselves being…interrupted by an early arrival.

Wednesdays were now exclusively reserved for you.

You know how it sounds in your head, but you also know it’s really for no other reason than him wanting to get his dick wet without interruption.

At least that’s how it started, anyway.

After the second time you were almost caught, you refused his advances at the next session. You weren’t risking it. Lance, however, couldn’t have cared less if someone had walked in on you on your knees in front of him, his dick down your throat while you sucked him off. In fact, you’re almost certain he probably would’ve liked it. When he realized you were serious, he rolled his eyes and went to the front entrance, making a show of locking the door as you watched on. He got out his phone and texted his next client that he had to cancel before he came back over to you and shoved his phone in your face.

“There, happy now?” He asked before he tossed it next to you on the bench you were sitting on.

You just looked up at him and couldn’t get a word out before he was dragging you to the locker rooms. Happy maybe wasn’t the word you would have used, but surely satisfied. Especially after the way he fucked you in front of the big mirror across the room. Forcing you to look at yourself, to watch the way he used you, how he made you feel so good and so full of him, his lips pressed against your ear as he spoke the filthiest degradations, with sprinkles of praises when you squeezed his cock just right or made a certain sound that had him groaning deeply and squeezing your soft hips even tighter. And definitely after he fucked you again in the showers. It was slower that time; steamy and yet still rough, and god, just as fucking hot.

You went home with him that night.

And begrudgingly, every other Wednesday night since.

It’s become routine. You meet here, have your training session, and after that forty-five minute mark, it inevitably devolves into you two fucking around before Lance reminds you how much more comfortable his bed is compared to whichever surface you’ve found yourself being pressed against that night.

You assumed tonight would be like any other but as you hear Lance talking, and what sounds like two other men speaking in return, you get the feeling you’re wrong.

You briefly contemplate getting that one last set in before you shoot up, eyes wide at the realization of whose voice it is you’re hearing out there. No way, you think. Shouldn’t he have his own private gym at Stark Towers?

You get to your knees and crawl over to the window of the weight room, peaking your head just up enough to be able to see who it is out there.

You fucking knew it!

Of all the gyms in this city, he had to find his way to this one.

You can’t see his face, but you’d recognize that arm and that voice anywhere. Steve Rogers stands by him, gym duffle hooked over his shoulder as Lance says something you can’t quite hear about punching bags. You sink back down to the floor before any of the three men can spot you.

You don’t know why you feel so embarrassed but there’s a very strong urge threatening to take over you and see you bolting out the back door before anyone can say a word.

…That’s a lie, actually.

You do know why you’re so embarrassed. It’s not only the decision you made but the very real implications of what that decision means…

Because really, who in their right fucking mind would ever turn down a date with the Bucky Barnes?

No one! Never you.

And yet…you did.

You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about what feelings prompted your almost immediate no from the second the rebuff left your lips.

You’re single. You have every right to go out with anyone you so please. And yet, night after night, there’s only one man who runs through your every thought.

The same man who so shamelessly flirts back with any woman in his vicinity - and makes sure you see it every damn time. You always wonder if he can see the ire you try to hide burning in your gaze. If that’s what causes his smug smirk to spread when he spots you. That glimmer of mirth in his bright blue eyes. Ughhh.

The same man who sends you completely unsolicited selfies, thirst traps, and nudes nearly every damn day. If his texts weren’t so damn incessant, personalized, detailed and pointed, you’d almost wonder who else he sends those pictures to.

The same man who calls you whenever he’s bored. At first you thought he just wanted to hear the sound of his own voice, but lately you’ve been wondering if he just wants to hear yours.

The same man whose bed you’ve found yourself sleeping in nearly every damn night the past two weeks. The nights that have put to rest your wonder of who else he gets in his bed beside you.

The same man who -

Is standing right in front of you.

Your wide eyes blink up as you feel eyes on you. Three pairs.

You clear your throat and push yourself up to stand. Lance looks like he’s about to say something but Bucky’s voice cuts his off before he can get a word out. He says your name as a question and has not only yours, but Lance and Steve’s attention as well.

One of their brows furrowed a bit more significantly than the other.

You smile at him and titter nervously, “Hey, Bucky.”

“Hi,” he smiles back. “Steve, this is,” he gestures, providing him your name in introduction. “PR…Relations?” He says, trying to remember your job title again.

“Something like that, yeah,” you laugh.

“So I’ve heard. Nice to finally meet you,” Steve extends his hand to yours in a polite shake, a friendly smile of his own on his face.

“You too,” you say as you shake hands.

Lance says nothing as he crosses his arms over his chest, and you can feel his gaze heavy on you.

“So,” Bucky says as he takes a step closer to you while Steve turns to Lance expectantly. With a bit of what you might be reading into as reluctance, Lance finally peels his eyes off you and Bucky and starts toward the boxing area near the back of the large weight room. “It’s over here,” he leads him.

You’re now standing alone with Bucky, and yet you can feel Lance’s eyes on you still. You think you like it…

Maybe he’s getting a taste of his own medicine. Unlike him, though, you don’t plan on leading anyone on just to see if he’ll care. If that is, in fact, what he has been doing to see if he can get a response from you.

“You workout here often?” Bucky asks.

“Uhm, not really, no,” you laugh lightly. “I prefer home to here but Lance is my trainer,” you nod in his direction, “we have a weekly session.”

“Oh, nice. We’ve heard good things about this place, wanted to come check it out. It usually closes early on Wednesdays, right? We had to call and set this up.”

“Yeah, it’s normally closed around six,” you say, “lucky you guys’ll have a private session.”

“You do private sessions?”

“Hm?”

“Is that why you’re here, I mean? Private session?”

“Oh,” you can feel your skin burning, “uh, yeah. Mhm,” you nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

His lips tilt up at you and you can’t not return the smile as a little silence grows between you.

“Look, before I ask again, I want you to know that I can take no for an answer, I swear,” he says sincerely, looking into your eyes, “but uh, have you given any more thought to getting dinner?”

You take a stilted breath, your brows raising the slightest bit before you blink. You wet your lips before you force yourself to speak.

“I uhm,” you turn for half a second to glance back at Lance, finding his eyes still set on you before you return Bucky’s gaze once more, “I’m seeing somebody, actually. I kinda have been…I’m sorry, I should’ve told you that the first time. I just, uh, I. I wasn’t sure what we were- are,” you shake your head, feeling a bit flustered, “it’s a little complicated, uhm,” you let out a breathy laugh.

“No, please,” he shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. I get it. Complicated.” He rubs the back of his neck, his bicep bulging with the movement of his raised arm and the hem of his shirt lifting just a bit. Gooooooood.

You’ve said no to this god of a man twice now. Hell. You must really be in deep.

“Well, if complicated ever changes, you know how to reach me,” he offers with a light smile. You nod and give a soft one of your own.

Before Bucky has the chance to walk away, Lance is at your side, startling you a bit as you look over to him.

“You finished your last set?” He asks as Bucky looks between the two of you.

“Uh huh,” you nod. He knows you’re lying as he narrows his eyes at you but doesn’t call you out on it- for now at least.

“I gotta stay a little later tonight,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his keys. You watch as he takes his house key off the ring before he holds it out to you. “I’ll be home in an hour or two,” he says nonchalantly as you stare at the key dumbly for a long second before you finally reach to take it.

“Okay,” you murmur almost so quietly you barely hear yourself.

Bucky huffs a smirk to himself in realization before he speaks, “Well, it was good running into you. Have a good night. ‘M sure I’ll see you around again.”

“Yeah, you, too,” you breathe another smile of your own as Bucky passes, touching your arm briefly before making his way over to his friend.

You force yourself to then turn and face Lance completely, your wonder evident in your eyes at his actions. “You want me to-“

“Yeah,” he cuts you off. “You’re gonna end up there anyway, thought I’d save you the back and forth from your place to mine.”

Your eyes narrow at his attitude. You’re used to his cocky self assurance and the way every word seems to be laced with a taunt, but this isn’t that. He seems…you aren’t sure. But definitely off.

“I’m gonna end up there anyway?” You question, defiance and annoyance both nipping at you at once.

“Yes.” He readily supplies, taking a step closer to you, invading your space in a way you don’t normally mind when you’re alone.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because that’s what this is.”

Oh god, you think. Maybe he heard you say you were seeing someone. Maybe he knew you were referring to him and maybe he doesn’t want you thinking this is anything more than sex. You’re not seeing someone. It’s not complicated. If you ignore the calls and texts and mid day and late night and early morning rendezvous and the cuddles and showers and pet names without malice or sarcasm reserved for only you, then yeah.

Yeah.

It’s just sex.

It’s not like either of you have ever said it’s anything else, you remind yourself.

You swallow down your embarrassment as your eyes flick toward your shoes. You spot your water and think to grab it and go. You don’t really have anything else to say. Just a lot to think about.

You don’t have time to do anything, though, before Lance’s hands come to hold your jaw, tilting your face up and forcing you to meet his eyes. They’re dark, his usual glint of taunting playfulness now gone. In its place is something much more heated, more serious. If you didn’t know better you might even say possessive…

“Because you’re mine,” he adds, voice deeper and lower as he takes another step to you. His eyes flash from your own to your lips and it’s not another second before he crashes his into yours, kissing you hard. His hands hold your head as he keeps you near him while you can do nothing but kiss him back. It’s not too long but still borderline desperate. You two don’t really kiss all too often and never this intently unless he has you stuffed full of him - and never have you kissed at all in front of anyone before.

Part of you knows he’s probably just putting on a show, wanting to prove something to who he perceives to be competition, and part of you doesn’t care. But a smaller part of you thinks maybe, just maybe, it’s not so much to prove something to Bucky - but to prove something to you.

You pull away after a second, but staying close enough to still breathe him in. You’re dazed and he knows it as that cocksure smirk spreads across his lips again after he looks into your shining eyes.

“Hydrate,” he tells you, letting you go. “I’ll stretch you out when I get home,” he winks, earning a gawked face from you as he starts to walk backwards over to the boxing side of the room. God, you pray they didn’t hear him say that. You chance a glance their way and see them already caught up in a sparring match, paying you and Lance no mind.

You see his slight annoyance at your preoccupation with what they might have heard and it makes you realize that this very random run in with Bucky might have changed the course of…whatever it is this situation has been. Is?

You have certainly never seen this side of Lance before. You again wonder what it means for him because you know well how he is.

This isn’t the time or place to figure it out, though. You give him another look and nod. “I’ll see you…then, then.”

You grab your water and go for your bag on the bench beside you, tossing the key he gave you in there and grabbing your own set to hold. You give him one more fleeting look before heading for the door, it’s like you’re trying to read his mind with every glance and you are getting absolutely nothing.

It’s not far from the gym to his place and you’re there within fifteen minutes. It’s a little weird unlocking his door and walking into the empty home, but you’ve been here frequently enough to not feel entirely out of place.

You refill your now empty bottle with the water from his water cooler and drink some more as you set your bag down on the couch.

You don’t know how you should wait for him, or what he’s expecting, but you’re sweaty and he’s not currently here on top of you distracting you from that fact, so you decide on a shower.

You head to his bathroom and strip down before grabbing your towel - wait no, not your towel. It’s just the towel you tend to use when you shower here. You grab it from the shelf with the other folded towels and drape it over the towel bar near the shower. You start the water and let it run for a bit while it warms before you step in.

You grab your loofah - that you only keep there for emergencies - and wash with your body wash. Again, emergencies. Once you’re clean and refreshed, you let yourself enjoy the warmth of the water gently beating down on you. And you let your mind wander.

‘Because you’re mine.’

Lance’s voice runs through your mind and sends a feeling through your body like no other. He’s never said that before. So definitely. So serious. And that kiss…

You take a deep breath and try to relax some more.

The more you think, the harder it is to deny.

God, you really are here all the damn time. And going over your daily routine you realize just how much Lance fits into it. You don’t know how you didn’t see it sooner, maybe you didn’t want to, but the truth is starting to creep up on you. This isn’t just sex.

But ah, can you really say that? All you two do when you’re around each other is fuck. You don’t think there’s been a single day you’ve spent with him that you didn’t do something sexual. So maybe…maybe you’re wrong.

Maybe it’s more of a friends with benefits type thing? You’re certainly past the point of just being fuck buddies.

But friends doesn’t feel entirely right either.

You know now, and truthfully you probably knew after getting asked out by Bucky the first time, that this is more than any of that.

You feel things for him. Things that aren’t just sexual attraction or kinship.

You don’t find yourself wondering what your friends are doing at random times of the day, smiling to yourself at the prospect of seeing them soon, no… Only with him.

You don’t find yourself craving the warmth or hold of your friends when you crawl into bed at night… Just him.

You don’t get butterflies when your friend’s contacts show up on your phone with a new message or a call… Only with him.

You don’t feel the way about your friends that you do about him.

You love your friends, yeah. But it’s not the way you-

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought.

You turn off the water and grab the towel off the bar outside the shower door.

You wrap yourself up and dry off best you can before walking out to his bedroom.

Realizing you might want to commit to a real relationship with someone and declaring that you might possibly be in love with them are two very different things. And you’re still not sure you’re ready to do the former, let alone the latter.

Do you really need to do this? To address it at all? You don’t think so. No. You don’t think you will.

So what if it is just sex? It’s been working for you both so far. You can’t deny you have feelings deeper than that for him, but you really don’t want to talk about it tonight. Maybe ever, you think petulantly.

Here’s the facts:

One, you think you really like Lance. Like, like like.

Two, you know you don’t want to get involved with anyone else - including, just as a reminder, Bucky fucking Barnes. Which again, is insane to admit.

And three, label or not, you can’t argue with him. He was right.

You’re his.

You sigh and resign yourself to the bubble of discontent sitting deep in your stomach. You’re so over it.

You think about grabbing something from his kitchen to eat but decide you really don’t have an appetite for anything. You forgo clothes, sure you’ll be rid of anything you put on when Lance gets home anyway, and get into his bed.

The second your head hits the pillow, exhaustion hits you full force. You’re beat. You try to fight it for a few minutes but eventually lose out and fall asleep in the blink of an eye. Lance’ll wake you up when he gets home.

It’s a tickle along your side that rouses you lightly. Your eyes open so slightly, still thick with sleep as you notice the darkenedness of the room. You’re groggy but you feel his featherlight touch again, ghosting from around your bottom, over your bare hip, and trailing up your side. You know it’s him. You’ll work through your sleep in a second, you tell yourself.

You wonder if he knows you woke up; he’s being so quiet. And he’s keeping his touch so soft. He’s laying beside you as you’re turned into him, laying on your side. You still don’t have the energy to move, still half asleep.

You make a little noise as his touch tickles up your side again and you shift into him further. You’re surprised as he shushes you and pulls you in closer. You can feel him looking down at you in the near blackened room as your face is now in his chest.

You let out a soft, sleepy moan as he gently fondles your tit in his hand, squeezing lightly, just feeling you as his thumb brushes over your peaking nipple. Your brows furrow as you turn into him to be closer and another delicate sound slips past your lips. You’re hushed again as he rescinds his touch, dragging his hand back down your body once more.

You rest a hand on his chest as you relax further into him. His hand finds its place on your thick thigh, moving your leg to rest across him.

He’s bare under the sheets, you feel him. He’s half hard and you’re expecting him to slip inside you any moment.

“Been thinking about you all damn day. Driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he seems to grouse to himself as he whispers aloud, pulling you closer yet. His skin seems a little damp and you can smell his soap. He must’ve showered.

You almost force yourself to open your eyes but you’re stopped by the feeling of Lance’s lips pressing softly against your temple as he hugs you into him. He always claims it’s you who searches him out in the middle of the night to cuddle into him, but clearly he plays a part in the way you always seem to wake up tangled in one another, too.

“Lance,” you murmur sleepily, unable to open your eyes if you’d wanted to.

“Shhh,” he hushes. “Don’t talk, just sleep.”

You don’t argue, you just turn more into him; content to do just that.

But you’re even more surprised when not very long after you both settle, you feel his breathing even out as he falls completely asleep with you in his arms.

No sex.

Hmm.

This, whatever it is…

It’s complicated.

Clearly.

But clearly, it’s not that complicated.

#lance tucker x curvy!reader #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker #lance tucker drabble #lance tucker fic #lance tucker smut #lance tucker fluff #sebastian stan characters #glimpse of bucky barnes x curvy!reader #sebastian stan fic

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its-avalon-08 · 4 hours ago

Note

Could you write a story with Franco Colapinto where maybe the reader is in a bit of a “toxic” relationship with an older boyfriend who takes advantage of her like he wants to control her and everything, and even wants to marry her—a bit of a strange situation. Franco helps her get out of it because he’s madly in love with her.

all mine always (fc43)

✦ pairing - franco colapinto x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, break up, insecurity, fluff

Franco Colapinto had always been Y/N’s favorite person. From the moment their mothers introduced them as toddlers in their small Argentinian neighborhood, they’d been inseparable. Where Franco went, Y/N followed, and vice versa. He was her rock, her safe place, the one person she could count on for anything.

As Franco’s racing career took off, Y/N was his biggest cheerleader, whether screaming at the TV during live broadcasts or waiting for hours at the airport to welcome him home. And for Franco, no matter how loud the crowds were or how far he traveled, he always came back to Y/N. She grounded him, reminded him of who he was when the world made him doubt.

But lately, things had changed. Y/N wasn’t the bubbly, carefree girl he’d always known. Her laughter was more strained, her smiles less frequent. And Franco knew why.

It was because of him.

“You’re quieter than usual. What’s going on?” Franco asked, nudging Y/N’s shoulder as they sat on the hood of his car, overlooking their favorite cliffside view.

Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Tired of what? Life? Me?” He grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

“Of course not you,” she mumbled, and he caught the slight tremor in her voice.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Franco’s voice softened, and he leaned closer. “It’s me, Y/N. I’ve seen you bawling over rom-coms, eating half a tub of ice cream in one sitting. There’s nothing you can say that’ll scare me off.”

She let out a weak laugh but didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“What is? Him?” The edge in Franco’s voice was unmistakable.

Y/N’s boyfriend, a man ten years her senior named Marcus, was everything Franco wasn’t. Wealthy, powerful, and utterly controlling. Marcus didn’t like Franco. He didn’t like how close they were, didn’t like how Y/N lit up when she talked about her best friend.

At first, Franco thought Marcus was just jealous. But the more he saw, the more he realized it was something darker. Marcus dictated what Y/N wore, where she went, who she spoke to. He even made her quit her part-time job, claiming he’d “take care of her.”

“Why do you stay with him, Y/N?” Franco finally asked, unable to hold back any longer.

Y/N’s face fell. “He loves me, Franco. He wants to marry me.”

“Marry you?” Franco’s voice rose, and Y/N flinched. “Y/N, he doesn’t love you. He wants to own you.”

“Don’t say that!” she snapped, tears welling in her eyes. “You don’t understand, Franco. He’s been good to me.”

“Good to you?” Franco stood, pacing in frustration. “Y/N, when was the last time you smiled? When was the last time you did something just because it made you happy?”

She was silent, and that silence broke his heart.

Later that night, Franco lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t get the image of Y/N’s tear-filled eyes out of his mind.

He couldn’t lose her to someone like Marcus.

He wouldn’t.

---

It started with the small things. Y/N had always been the loudest laugher in the room, her giggles contagious and uncontainable. But one evening, during a rare dinner at their favorite burger joint, Franco noticed her laughter was muted.

“Remember when you tried to convince me ketchup was a vegetable in second grade?” Franco joked, hoping to coax a smile.

Y/N chuckled lightly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, she glanced at her phone lying face down on the table, as though it held some unspoken threat.

“Y/N, you okay?” Franco pressed.

“Yeah, just… Marcus doesn’t really like when I eat stuff like this,” she murmured, picking at her fries.

Franco frowned. “It’s one burger, Y/N. You’re not signing a lifetime commitment to unhealthy eating.”

She smiled faintly but didn’t touch her food after that.

---

Y/N’s wardrobe had always been a mix of quirky prints, bold colors, and comfortable outfits. She loved experimenting with fashion, her style as vibrant as her personality.

But during one of Franco’s rare visits home, he noticed her wearing muted tones: a beige sweater, black trousers, and flat shoes that looked nothing like the chunky boots she adored.

“Wow, did someone steal all your colors?” Franco teased, eyeing her outfit.

She tugged at the hem of her sweater nervously. “Marcus says these look more… sophisticated. He says I should dress like the woman I’m becoming.”

Franco’s stomach churned. “Since when do you need his approval to dress the way you want?”

“It’s not like that,” she said quickly. “He just wants what’s best for me.”

But Franco couldn’t shake the way she avoided his gaze.

---

Y/N had always been the type to show up unannounced at Franco’s house, snacks in hand, ready to rant about anything and everything. But those visits became less frequent.

One evening, Franco called her after weeks of barely hearing from her.

“Hey, stranger! Do I need to make an appointment to see my best friend now?” he joked.

“Sorry, I’ve just been busy,” she said, her voice hesitant.

“Too busy for me? C’mon, Y/N, that’s not you. What’s really going on?”

“Marcus doesn’t like me hanging out too much. He says it’s distracting me from our future.”

“Our future?” Franco repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “Y/N, he’s not your entire life.”

“He’s important to me, Franco,” she snapped, but her voice cracked at the end.

Franco sighed, the weight of her words sinking in.

---

Y/N had always been fiercely independent, never afraid to voice her opinions or stand her ground. But that spark seemed dimmed.

One day, Franco overheard her on a call with Marcus while she waited for him at the karting track.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll be home soon, okay? Please don’t be mad.”

When she hung up, Franco approached her.

“Why were you apologizing?” he asked.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Just a small misunderstanding.”

“Y/N,” Franco said firmly, his tone demanding honesty. “When did you start apologizing for existing?”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, it looked like she might break down. But then she shook her head. “You don’t get it, Franco. Marcus just expects a lot from me. It’s not a bad thing.”

But Franco could see it—how she shrank in on herself, a shadow of the person she used to be.

---

The final straw came when Y/N showed up at Franco’s house one evening, tears streaking her face. She was holding a gift Marcus had given her—a diamond bracelet—though it felt more like a shackle to Franco.

“He said I’m too friendly with other people,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “He thinks I’m not committed enough to him.”

Franco’s jaw tightened. “So what? He bought you this to guilt you into proving it?”

She didn’t respond, just stared at the bracelet with hollow eyes.

“Y/N,” Franco said gently, stepping closer. “This isn’t love. Love doesn’t make you afraid to be yourself.”

She looked up at him, and for the first time, he saw it—the fear, the doubt, the realization that she was trapped.

And that’s when Franco vowed to get her out, no matter what it took.

---

Franco sat across from Y/N in his dimly lit living room. The cozy space that had always been filled with their laughter now felt stifling under the weight of her silence. Her eyes were glued to the floor, fingers fidgeting with the bracelet Marcus had gifted her.

“Y/N, enough.” Franco’s voice was sharp, his frustration barely contained. “Tell me what’s going on. All of it. No more ‘I’m fine,’ no more ‘It’s nothing.’ Because I can’t keep watching you like this.”

Y/N’s hands stilled, and she finally looked up at him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her lips trembled as she tried to find the words.

“I—” she began, but her voice broke.

“Just say it,” Franco urged, leaning forward, his hands gripping his knees. “Whatever it is, I’m here. Always. You know that.”

And then, like a dam bursting, the words spilled out.

“I feel like I’m losing myself, Franco,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky. “It’s like… it’s like nothing I do is ever enough for him.”

Franco’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening. “What do you mean?”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “He controls everything. What I wear, what I eat, who I talk to. If I laugh too loud, he tells me I’m embarrassing him. If I spend too much time out, he says I don’t care about our relationship. And when I try to stand up for myself…”

Her voice cracked, and a tear slid down her cheek.

Franco’s heart shattered. “What happens when you stand up for yourself, Y/N?”

She hesitated, then finally whispered, “He gets angry. Really angry. He doesn’t hit me, but… he’ll yell, or give me the silent treatment for days. And then he’ll apologize, say he just wants the best for me, and I… I believe him. Every time.”

“That bastard,” Franco muttered under his breath, his eyes blazing with fury. “That manipulative, controlling piece of—”

“Stop!” Y/N cried, her voice rising as more tears streamed down her face. “You don’t understand, Franco. He says he loves me. He says he wants to marry me because he can’t live without me. What if he’s right? What if no one else could ever love me like he does?”

Franco shot out of his chair so fast it scraped against the floor. He stood towering over her, his hands trembling with anger.

“No one else could love you? Are you hearing yourself, Y/N? That’s not love—that’s control. That’s manipulation. He doesn’t love you, he loves the idea of owning you.”

Y/N flinched at his harsh tone, and he immediately softened, crouching down in front of her.

“Y/N,” he said gently, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re brilliant, funny, kind—you’ve got this light that draws people in. Don’t let him dim that light. Don’t let him make you think you’re less than you are.”

“But he’ll never let me go, Franco,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “He’ll find a way to keep me under his thumb. And I… I don’t know how to fight him.”

Franco’s protective instincts kicked into overdrive. He placed his hands firmly on her knees, looking her directly in the eyes.

“You don’t have to fight him alone,” he said fiercely. “You’ve got me. And I’ll fight him, Y/N. I’ll fight anyone who tries to hurt you, who tries to take you away from the person you’re meant to be.”

“But how?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco’s eyes darkened with determination. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever it takes, we’ll get you out of this. You’re not marrying him, you’re not staying with him—you’re not going to lose yourself because of some controlling prick who doesn’t deserve you.”

Y/N broke down completely, sobs wracking her body as Franco pulled her into his arms. She clung to him like a lifeline, her tears soaking his shirt.

“I’m scared,” she admitted through her tears.

“I know,” Franco murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he held her tighter. “But I’m here. You’re not alone, Y/N. You’ll never be alone as long as I’m around.”

And in that moment, Franco vowed to do whatever it took to protect her—even if it meant going toe-to-toe with Marcus himself.

---

Franco sat in the back corner of a quiet café, nursing a cup of coffee he didn’t care to drink. Across the table sat Fernando Alonso, Carlos Sainz, and Max Verstappen—three of Y/N’s closest confidants, all equally concerned about the situation she was trapped in.

“This guy sounds like a parasite,” Carlos muttered, leaning back in his chair with a scowl. “He’s feeding off her, controlling her life. It makes me sick.”

“Controlling isn’t even the right word,” Franco added, his voice sharp. “He’s obsessed with her. She’s terrified to even think about leaving him because of what he might do.”

Fernando leaned forward, his expression dark and calculated. “If he’s that obsessed, just walking away won’t work. He’ll follow her, pressure her, maybe even blackmail her. We have to remove him from the equation completely.”

Max raised an eyebrow, swirling his coffee absentmindedly. “What are you suggesting? Breaking his legs?”

“I wish,” Franco growled. “But we need something smarter. Something that gets rid of him without putting her in the middle of it.”

Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Does he have any weaknesses? Anything we can use against him?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Franco said, pulling out his phone. “Y/N mentioned that Marcus has been pushing for marriage because he thinks it’ll lock her down. If we can prove he’s not as perfect as he pretends to be, maybe we can destroy his image. The guy’s got to have skeletons in his closet.”

“Everyone does,” Fernando said, his voice cool and composed. “We just have to dig deep enough to find them.”

Max smirked. “Lucky for you, I know a guy who’s great at digging. He’s done some work for me before—discreet and efficient.”

Fernando raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had people investigated before?”

“Sometimes it’s useful,” Max said with a shrug. “Let me make a call. If Marcus has anything to hide, we’ll know soon enough.”

While Max stepped away to make the call, Carlos leaned toward Franco. “What about Y/N? Does she know we’re planning this?”

Franco shook his head. “She’s already scared out of her mind. I don’t want her worrying about this too. I’ll tell her once we have a solid plan.”

Carlos nodded, his jaw tightening. “Good. She doesn’t need any more stress right now. But Franco… if this guy doesn’t back off, I won’t sit back and play nice.”

“Neither will I,” Fernando added, his voice like steel. “But we’ll try it the clean way first. For Y/N’s sake.”

Max returned, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “My guy’s on it. Give him a couple of days, and we’ll have everything we need on Marcus.”

A heavy silence fell over the table, the weight of their plan sinking in.

“You think this will work?” Franco asked, his voice quieter now.

“It has to,” Fernando said firmly. “If it doesn’t, we’ll come up with something else. But we won’t let her stay trapped. Not while we’re here.”

Max smirked, though his tone was serious. “Don’t worry, mate. He’ll wish he’d never met Y/N by the time we’re done with him.”

Franco leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Thank you, guys. Seriously. I couldn’t do this alone.”

Carlos clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re all in this for her. And when she’s free of him, she’ll finally see what an idiot she’s been for not choosing you sooner.”

Franco blinked at Carlos, heat rising to his cheeks. “This isn’t about me.”

“No,” Fernando said, smirking faintly for the first time. “But it’s obvious how much you love her. She’s lucky to have you, Franco.”

Franco swallowed hard, determination flashing in his eyes. “She’s the one who deserves better. And I’ll make sure she gets it.”

The four of them exchanged grim nods, their shared goal uniting them. Marcus had no idea what was coming for him.

---

It was late in the evening when Franco received the call from Max’s contact. Standing in his apartment, he listened intently, his knuckles white as he gripped his phone.

“Are you sure about this?” Franco asked, pacing the floor.

“Positive,” the voice on the other end said. “Marcus has a history. Fraud, manipulation, even harassment complaints from two previous partners. It’s all there, buried deep, but enough to destroy him if it gets out.”

Franco’s jaw clenched. “Send me everything. Now.”

As soon as the call ended, Franco stared at the incoming files on his laptop. Each piece of evidence felt like a punch to the gut—not for Marcus’s sins, but for the fact that Y/N had been stuck with him, blind to the extent of his darkness.

He called Fernando, Carlos, and Max to his apartment. Within an hour, they were all seated around his laptop, reviewing the damning evidence.

“This guy is a predator,” Carlos said, his voice seething. “How did Y/N get caught up with him?”

“She didn’t know,” Franco said, running a hand through his hair. “She’s too kind, too trusting. He preyed on that.”

Fernando leaned back in his chair, his expression cold. “This is enough to get him out of her life. Publicly exposing him would ruin him. He’d be too busy cleaning up his mess to focus on her.”

Max tapped a finger on the table. “But we need to be smart about this. If Marcus suspects Y/N’s involved, he might retaliate. We have to keep her out of it entirely.”

Franco nodded. “Agreed. So, we leak this anonymously. Make sure it hits hard, fast, and far enough that he can’t trace it back to her.”

Carlos glanced at Franco. “How’s she holding up?”

“Barely,” Franco admitted, his voice low. “She’s trying to put on a brave face, but I can tell she’s breaking inside. She doesn’t even know about this yet.”

Max crossed his arms. “She won’t have to. We handle this, she stays safe, and Marcus is gone. End of story.”

Fernando, ever the strategist, stood. “I’ll make a few calls. I know someone who can ensure this hits the right places—media outlets, law enforcement, even his employers if he has any. Marcus won’t have time to even think about Y/N once this explodes.”

“Do it,” Franco said firmly. “I don’t care what it takes, just make sure it’s over.”

The plan was in motion, but Franco couldn’t shake the tightness in his chest. He’d seen Y/N earlier that day, and the haunted look in her eyes was etched into his memory. She didn’t deserve any of this.

When the others left to put the plan into action, Franco sat alone, staring at his phone. His thumb hovered over Y/N’s contact. He wanted to call her, to tell her it would all be okay soon. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him—not yet.

Instead, he texted her:

Franco: I’m here if you need me. Always.

Her response came almost immediately:

Y/N: I know. Thank you.

Franco set his phone down, his determination solidifying. By this time tomorrow, Marcus would be nothing more than a bad memory. And Y/N would finally be free.

---

Y/N sat in Franco’s apartment, curled up on his couch with a mug of tea clutched in her hands. She hadn’t said much since arriving that morning, her anxiety bubbling over as Marcus’s world began to collapse. The plan was in motion, but the waiting was unbearable.

The knock on the door made her flinch, and Franco immediately went to answer it. Carlos stepped inside, his face grim, but the small glint in his eyes told Franco what he needed to know.

“It’s done,” Carlos said simply.

“What?” Y/N’s voice wavered, her head snapping up.

Carlos crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “Marcus has been arrested. They found enough evidence to charge him with fraud and harassment, and with the media leak, his reputation is in shreds. He’s not getting near you again.”

Y/N’s mug slipped from her hands onto the table, her hands flying to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as the weight of his words settled in. “He’s… he’s really gone?”

Franco sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “He’s gone, Y/N. For good.”

She broke into sobs, burying her face in her hands. Relief poured out of her in waves, shaking her frame as the months of fear and anxiety began to melt away. Franco held her, his hand running soothingly up and down her back.

Over the Next Few Weeks

Y/N took slow but steady steps toward reclaiming her life. Franco was with her every step of the way—helping her rebuild her confidence, reminding her of who she was before Marcus had taken over her life.

One evening, as they sat on a park bench eating ice cream, Y/N laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. It was a small laugh, but it was real, and Franco couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You’re staring,” she teased, her voice lighter than it had been in weeks.

He grinned, his heart flipping at the sight of her smile. “Can you blame me? I’ve missed that laugh.”

She looked down, swirling her ice cream with the spoon. “I’ve missed it too. I didn’t even realize how much I’d lost until… until now.”

Franco nudged her playfully. “Well, it’s coming back. Little by little. And I’m here to make sure it doesn’t go anywhere this time.”

Y/N tilted her head to look at him, her gaze soft. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Franco. You’ve been my rock through all of this.”

A Month Later

“Close your eyes,” Franco said one evening, leading Y/N by the hand into his living room.

“Franco, what are you up to?” she asked, her tone suspicious but amused.

“Trust me,” he said with a grin.

When she opened her eyes, the room was lit with fairy lights, and her favorite snacks and a cozy blanket were laid out on the couch. A projector screen displayed her favorite childhood movie.

“Movie night?” she asked, her voice catching slightly.

“Not just any movie night,” Franco said, gesturing grandly. “The start of the new, sparkly, unstoppable Y/N era. Consider this a celebration of you being… well, you.”

Tears pricked at her eyes as she hugged him tightly. “You’re too good to me, Franco.”

He hugged her back, his chest tightening. You deserve the world, he thought, but didn’t say it. Instead, he said, “It’s what you deserve.”

Weeks Turn to Months

Y/N began finding joy in the little things again—taking walks, experimenting with new hobbies, even joining Franco at karting tracks where he indulged her playful trash talk about his skills.

One afternoon, as she beat him in a casual race, she threw her arms in the air triumphantly. “Told you I’d wipe the floor with you, Colapinto!”

Franco laughed, pulling off his helmet. “Alright, alright, you win. But don’t forget who’s the professional here.”

She winked. “Professional loser today.”

He watched her, his heart swelling with pride and adoration. She was glowing again, her spark fully returned. And every day, he found himself falling deeper in love.

But he kept those feelings locked away—for now. Because seeing her happy was all that mattered.

For now.

---

Franco stood nervously in the middle of the clearing, the moonlight filtering through the tall trees. Their childhood spot had transformed—fairy lights twinkled between the branches, and soft candles lined the pathway leading to the small wooden bench they had carved their initials into as kids. He had spent hours making it perfect. Tonight, he would tell Y/N everything.

He heard her soft footsteps before he saw her. Turning, he saw Y/N step into the clearing, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Franco…” she breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. “What is all this?”

He smiled, though his heart was racing. “A walk down memory lane. Do you remember when we used to come here every summer? When the world felt simple and small?”

She nodded, tears already forming in her eyes as she took in the glowing lights and the warmth of the scene. “I… I can’t believe you did this. It’s beautiful.”

Franco held out his hand, and she took it, letting him guide her to the bench. They sat side by side, the soft glow of the lights illuminating her face.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time. Months, actually. Maybe years, if I’m honest.”

She tilted her head, her brows furrowing. “What moment?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto hers. “The moment I stop pretending that I’m just your best friend. That I don’t feel everything for you, every single day. The moment I tell you the truth.”

Her lips parted, her breath hitching, but she said nothing, her eyes searching his.

“You’ve been through so much,” Franco continued, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve watched you lose yourself and then fight to get your light back. And every step of the way, I’ve loved you. Not just as my best friend, but as the person who makes my life brighter just by being in it.”

Y/N blinked rapidly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Franco…”

“I love how you challenge me, how you make me laugh, how you see the good in everyone—even when they don’t deserve it. And I hate that I waited this long to tell you, but I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. Of scaring you away.”

Her hand covered her mouth, her shoulders trembling as his words washed over her.

“You’re my everything,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “And I want to be the person who makes you feel safe, and loved, and free. Forever. If you’ll let me.”

For a moment, silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

Then Y/N let out a shaky laugh, wiping her tears. “You idiot,” she said softly. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I just thought you’d never see me that way.”

Franco’s breath caught. “Wait… what?”

She nodded, laughing through her tears. “You were always the one, Franco. I was just too scared to ruin what we had.”

He let out a breath of disbelief before pulling her into his arms, holding her tightly. “You could never ruin anything, Y/N. Not with me.”

As they pulled back, she cupped his face, her eyes shining. “You’re my everything too, Franco. And I’m so glad you didn’t wait any longer.”

He smiled, leaning his forehead against hers. “So, does that mean you’ll go out with me? Officially?”

She laughed, nodding. “Yes, you idiot. A thousand times yes.”

Under the glow of the lights, Franco kissed her—soft and slow, pouring years of love and longing into that single moment. And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #logan sargeant #williams #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto x yn #williams f1 #williams racing #williams formula 1

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pixarchan · 7 hours ago

Text

So that’s what the song means, it’s a prayer, a prayer for Moana to get back to Maui one more time and in retrospective it makes a lotta sense.

Just like you said all his life he’s done nothing more than living in a rebellious lifestyle, tricking both gods and humans for out of fun or for something else, and even tho he was raised by the gods they can’t actually be considered as his family ‘cuz somehow he grew up to be self sufficient enough to take care of himself, and out of the love and appreciation he craves for he shows this stoic man who’s is not afraid of anything and anyone, he cups his own feelings up so he doesn’t look weak in the eyes of everyone, like he was trying to prove himself and everyone he’s worthy of their love, a love that was denied by his own parents, this man really needs therapy ASAP.

And for the first time in his 3000 he showed his true colors to a young mortal girl who taught him that sometimes it’s ok not being ok, that if you keep bottling up your emotions you’ll end up hurting yourself, and in that moment Maui let himself be vulnerable, he let all his emotions flow freely and opened up his heart to Moana, even tho he expected her to understand him she actually did, she gave him empathy and didn’t judge him for his actions, she just simply listened and allowed to see a side of his that barely no one knows, she even offered him a shoulder to lean on even if he didn’t ask for it, just like Klaus said “A true act of kindness always leads to another” Moana’s kindness and compassion showed him that being vulnerable doesn’t make you weaker, it makes you even stronger than ever.

Being strong doesn’t mean you are invincible, Maui spent all his life trying get the approval from everyone and he gained a true friend but at the cost of one day he’ll have to see her die, another thing he tried to avoid in his inmortal life the fear to get so attached to her that the mare idea of watching her die would just devastate him so he would rather die than living another 3000 years without her.

And well, the inevitable happened and all his world shattered in pieces while he holds Moana’s lifeless body in his arms, he didn’t care about his hook, his tattoos or whether is a demigod or not the only person he loved and cared about more than his own life was gone and the desperation and grief made him crumble, so he did the last thing he never thought he would, HE PRAYED he prayed for her to save her, he never asked anything from the gods, humans or even the ocean, but he hoped for someone to listen to his prayer, and when Matai Vasa and all his ancestors (including Tala) showed up he and Tala looked through his eyes and I would swear they silently asked Maui what he would be willing to sacrifice for Moana, eyes say more than words and he answered back with tears in his eyes saying “I’ll give you anything you want, my hook, my power, my immortality, I’ll give my own life if it’s necessary but please save her”, said and done they brought Moana back to life and the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Maui and that fire in his eyes were back one more time now that the woman he loves is alive safe and sound 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹.

You know, it would’ve been amazing if Disney had at least made Maui kiss Moana’s forehead or even her hand during the Mana Vavau, that would’ve made worth our while but I’m pretty sure they know what they’re doing and I hope so, if I didn’t lose my hopes for Moana and Maui in these 8 years since Moana 1 was released, now more than ever I‘ll hold onto that hope until the third one and if I have to wait another 8 years for it, then it’ll worth it 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰.

Big Moana 2 Spoilers ahead. Beyond the cut is the Samoan to english translation of maui's 2nd song for moana. (And the context it appears in)

youtube

ladies and gents of the moana fandom, thanks to the effort of samoan speaker @yuki685 on youtube, and my buddy @rykierykerman for hooking me up with the text and screenshots

what i'd like to discuss with yall today is not only sharing the translation for this song, but some of the character implication this has for maui, especially when you look at how his OG legends depict him.

LYRICS:

(Maui singing in Samoan):

Aue, aue, le faigata / Aue, aue, how difficult it is

Ua pa'ū fa'anoanoa / Falling into sadness

Aue, aue, fa'ataga ola / Aue, aue, please allow this life to continue

Lenā La'u talosaga / This is my prayer

---

(E manu malo) / May there be blessings

(Opataia Foa'i and Te Vaka singing in Tokelauan)

Tele tele mana e o te vavau (Vavau) / Great, great power of mana

Tau ke tu ke Manumalo / Fight, stand tall and be victorious

Ke Manumalo / Be victorious

---

(Grandma Tala)

Aue, aue, mana e o te vavau / Aue, aue, the power of mana

Tau ke tu ke Manumalo / Fight, stand tall and be victorious

Ke Manumalo / Be victorious

_____

The piece that made me flip my shit when I read it was the confirmation that this song is a PRAYER

when I first heard this song before the movie I assumed it was a funeral rite. a dirge, followed by a choral revival. during the film, when maui and then the ancestors sang it over moana's lifeless body and I had no subtitles to go on, I thought perhaps it was a spell, or maybe a lullaby from Maui's far distant past, then taken up by the ancestors as a comfort to the grieving Maui- then back to the spell theory as Moana awoke to the powerful music and emotion channeled by tala and her crew.

even my first google translate search of the lyrics missed the word prayer, which goes to show that AI translation is no match for native human insight.

Maui's song being a prayer is a friggin big deal.

Maui's stories span the width & breadth of the pacific islands, and each culture arising from those island tells variations on that legend. some emphasize his rebellious side, others his inventiveness, still others his drive, his humor, his ingenuity, his pride. But a common theme in most is that this man, this demigod- he does NOT get along with the majority of his ancestors or the gods. Even when he's not outright malevolent to them, he's tricking them or undermining their effort. He's usually stubbornly self-sufficient, if he gets help from someone divine, its usually because he tricked them into doing it. Maui does not beg, he does not plead. (at least, not with any lasting sincerity). he's a charmer, a schemer.

But here he is, his tattoos stripped away, his hook gone, his beloved Moana growing colder and colder- he's out of tricks. he's out of time, out of power. he's as helpless as the day he was thrown into the ocean to save her. rock bottom, figuratively and literally.

he does the absolute last thing he can, born of pure desperation. pure grief, pure need. He prays.

he prays not expecting an answer. he prays, knowing that the gods and all his family would relish the chance to tell him to fuck all the way off. he prays, even if to no one but moana's lifeless body.

i often joke that maui is bad at feelings. but really what i mean is that maui is bad at regulating his feelings. he represses them as hard as he can, denies them, wraps them in humor and when that fails he straight up tries to out run them. its a maladaptive coping skill he's had to pick up over his immortal 3000 year lifespan because otherwise, he'd be wallowing in endless grief as friend after friend either dies or lives long enough to become his antagonist. boy has some serious trauma built up and no good examples of how to handle it in a healthy way.

until moana.

moana provided an example of how to be vulnerable without being weak. a safe space where he could share his heart and be met with understanding and validation. we see him mature, even fractionally, and in the sequel he's not nearly so closed off. he worries openly about moana, admits his concerns about the mission, even returns moana's favor from the first film and gives her a sincere, supportive pep talk.

but all his progress in processing his emotions seems to backfire in this moment. the first time he'd opened his heart to a fragile mortal friend and here he is, exactly as he feared, devastated at her passing. He had invested real time and care and attachment into this human and he's utterly shattered that its all coming to an end so fast. that he'll never experience her voice or her smile or her wit ever again.

she's precious to him. he cant bear to lose her. his sadness in more crushing than the ocean he's surrounded by, denser than the rock he kneels upon. even if he got his powers back, even if he pulled up a million islands, if Moana isn't there to land on them...there's no point.

less than 10 minutes ago he was ready to die for her.

3 minutes ago in movie time, maui faced his own mortality. powers stripped bare, down to his last ounce of strength, frying in impossible lightning heat, he kept struggling. the first look he gives moana is fear, raw and unfamiliar on that handsome face. but in this penultimate moment, his eyes meet moana's. his grimace gentles, eyebrows lift, gaze softens into a regretful, heart melting smile. he finds small comfort in seeing moana for one last time, seeing her unhurt, hearing her call his name. the rope slips from his grip, and somewhere in the milliseconds between lightning flashes, he relaxes, relief skitters across his features. perhaps he thinks "ahh, at least she's ok." "at least she'll outlive me". perhaps he has a moment of acceptance for his fate, knowing she's proud of him, knowing he did his very best. maybe he thinks ,"this way ill be sure to meet her again, in the afterlife. its for the best."

or maybe, just maybe, he thinks

"see you out there, moana."

but now, 3 minutes later, its once again the worst case scenario. any relief he had in that last smile at her is obliterated in the wake of his grief. its once again the worst case scenario. he's not thinking now of the curse being broken or his hook or his tattoos. a world that she's not in, whether he be human or demigod, is not a world he can stand to exist in. he cant do this without her. he needs her.

so he digs deep inside himself, through the pain or losing her, through his own family trauma and antagonism towards authority, and pride, to beg, on his knees for help from a higher power. its unclear to us if he's intending to pray to the gods or to his own ancestors or both or neither. to anyone who can help. to anyone who will listen.

and its neither of those sources who answer, at least, not as directly as matai vasa or tala do. its moana's kin, her loved ones, (eventually including the ocean), who answer from the great beyond. he looks them in the eyes and they weep with him. they sing power over moana and the impossible happens.