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chelseeebe · 3 months ago

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happy coincidences

18+. smut. mdni. modern au.

day four of spooky week back with steve who meets reader at robin’s halloween party, only, you may have more than just costumes in common

a/n: in honour of joe saying he thinks that modern steve would have a swiftie girlfriend.. i had to make r a swiftie

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Louise had called it off.

Again.

“I think you just need to get the fuck over it and get the fuck over someone else,” Robin states plainly, continuing to decorate her scarily bright orange pumpkin cookies.

“Rob,” he sighs, dipping his finger into the leftover batter, “it doesn’t work like that.”

“But it does,” ignoring his pleas of despair, “I’ve seen you break up with hundreds of women and not once have you been so pathetic about it,” snatching the bowl from his reach, “we’re going to get you laid and if you’re still sad about it after then I’ll take pity on you.”

Steve frowns, a deep set crease between his thick brows. Sex would’ve normally cheered him up, no doubt. But Louise was different.

They’d been on-again, off-again for almost a year now, too far gone for some meaningless pussy to fix.

“No fucking way,” Robin exclaims, grabbing his hand and tugging him off towards the other side of the kitchen, “this is perfect! Perfect!” muttering along to herself as Steve's heels dig into the floor in protest.

“What’re you doing?” he spits, almost knocking her over when she stops abruptly in front of him.

A group of girls sit equally as confused on the couch, smiling up at Robin with a shared baffled look in their eye.

That’s when he sees the hat, pink and sparkly, slowly trailing down to the matching costume. So that’s why she’d dragged him over here. You were unintentionally matching with him. The perfect Barbie and Ken duo, a fitting part in Robin’s master plan to get him over Louise.

“Can you believe you’re matching?” she fusses, fingering the details of your jean jacket, “I don’t think you two have met before? How crazy is that?” pinching Steve's arm, nudging him to say something.. anything really.

You hum, smiling up at him from underneath the brim of your cowboy hat, “you look great,” eyeing the tassels around his pecks, the vest that now felt a touch too much.

He felt stupid before but now, he felt utterly idiotic. Realising quite how extravagant and completely unnecessary the costume was.

“Thanks,” he nods, receiving another sharp pinch from his best friend, forcing him to cough up a real reply, “yeah.. you do too.”

Your eyes fall back to Robin as she backs slowly away, “I’ll let you two get to know each other, okay? i’ve gotta check on my.. cookies! Yeah! My cookies!”

A bare-faced lie. Those fucking cookies had been out of the over for hours at this point. Steve had taxed a few for the inconvenience of her pestering him all night.

You flash him a thin-lipped smile, clearly as interested in this as he was. “Your girlfriend make you dress up as Ken, huh?” your own friends shuffling to the other side of the couch, away from the awkward conversation.

“Oh! No.. no, Rob made me,” unsure of whether you were implying the massive lesbian that had forced him over here was his girlfriend or if there was another lady in his life.

Neither would be true.

Robin hollers from across the room, “he’s a liar! He wanted to be Ken all on his own!” before disappearing into the kitchen to check on her cookies.

Your smile grows, “hey.. I don’t judge,” taking a slow sip from your glass, totally undeserving of having Robin force Steve onto your night.

God he needs a drink. Or five.

Maybe after a couple beers he’d have the confidence to talk to you properly.

“I really liked the movie, okay? it was fun,” deciding to lean into it, slowly but surely. “And you know, Barbie’s hot.”

Oh.

He doesn’t just mean Margot Robbie either.

Your cleavage spills out of your shirt, only really visible from this angle he was leering from.

“She is,” you laugh, “I’m sorry- what was your name again?”

“Steve,” offering his hand for you to shake. Why did he do that? You aren’t agreeing on a new marketing strategy for fuck sake.

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” rabbiting your name as if his brain would do anything other than call you Barbie all night. “You look like you need a drink.”

He nods, chuckling under his breath, “I do.”

“Well,” you stand, unexpectedly a lot closer than probably intended, “let’s get you a drink, Steve.”

The party thumps on, you and Steve still reluctantly circle around one another, both too awkward or maybe just unwilling to take it further.

Robin makes it known that Steve would be a colossal fucking idiot for not immediately trying to win you over, making it very obvious as she sidles up next to him at the makeshift beer-pong table.

“What is your problem?” she hisses, shoving a cup of liquid courage into his chest, “make a move before someone else does, idiot.”

“I dunno,” exhaling pathetically, “I just don’t think I’m ready yet,” eyeing you from across the table, too engrossed in the game of beer-pong to care about his whining.

Robin’s sharp elbow connects with his ribcage, “don’t be so fucking stupid,” snarling loud enough for him to hear over the music, “I think you should go for it. God knows I’m sick of hearing you cry over Louise.”

He truly wants to be offended, even opening his mouth to offer a rebuttal, though nothing comes out.

Regrettably, Robin was right.

Louise had made it clear that she no longer wanted him, so why was he still so hung up over her? It was exhausting. Not only for Robin, but him too.

The ping pong ball lands in Steve’s drink with a loud plunk, pulling him out of his head to find you already smiling back at him.

“I think that means I win,” rocking on your heels, a syrupy sweet smile sticks to your lips. You deserved far better than the lacklustre night he was giving you, that’s for sure.

Steve nods, downing the rest of his drink and attempting to hide his grimace as the liquid burns his throat. Robin had slipped him pure ethanol or something, her grin made her ill intentions very clear.

You continue to beat his ass for a while, Steve was better at basketball than beer-pong that’s for certain. He didn’t care anyway, the new-found haze in his head was welcomed, sidling closer and closer to your side as his chest warms up.

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom,” he whispers, lips practically touching your ear, this was the bravest he’d gotten all night, perhaps he wasn’t such a lost cause after all.

He stumbles into the bathroom, finding his balance against the cold wall when his phone buzzes against his thigh.

what r u doing tonight?

The message reads, sending a sinking feeling through his chest.

Louise, making sure than even though they’re not together anymore, he can’t move on.

Why does she even care?

Why does he care enough to respond?

He stews on it, using the bathroom to buy himself some time to figure out what he should do. Slinking off into the hallway after a moment of consideration, finger hovering over the call button for an embarrassingly long amount of time until he just does it.

It rings. And rings. And rings.

“Hello?” Louise’s voice echoes into his ear.

“Hey.”

There’s an empty sigh down the line, “I didn’t mean.. that text wasn’t meant for you.”

“Oh.”

Another dagger to his chest, piercing through his thumping heart. The confirmation he needed that not only did she not care about him but that she had moved on.

“Steve I’m-“

The tone beeps, not allowing her to take up any more of his time. She didn’t care, he shouldn’t care. That was the end of it.

He slinks down onto the stairs, eyeing the door. He could be out of here before you even remembered he existed, sulking in his room like he’d wanted to in the first place.

The music gets louder, light creeping in as the door creaks open, your face soft as your eyes meet his hunched over frame, like a pathetic little weasel.

“I thought I should find my Ken again,” chuckling awkwardly.

Your Ken? That was a little presumptuous of you.

He’s immediately sorry.

Soured by the conversation with Louise. An unnecessary hindrance to his entire night.

“You okay?” you pry, no doubt noticing his glum demeanour, coming to sit on the cramped step next to him.

Steve sighs, looking at the blank phone screen in front of him, deciding whether to impede all of his misery onto you or to not ruin this entire night.

Remembering Robin’s, albeit harsh, words.

He goes for the latter.

“Yeah.. I’m good,” knee knocking into yours, “are you?”

You nod, smiling softly, “I’m gonna head home now, I just wanted to let you know that it was really nice to meet you, Steve,” standing from the staircase, leaving a sudden, cold ache to his side, “I hope your.. girl problems get better soon.”

they would, almost immediately, get better if he just stopped acting like a pussy.

You weren’t exactly being inconspicuous with your flirting either. This was on him and him alone.

He’s not shocked Robin had divulged to you all about his lingering annoyance of a relationship, no doubt trying to sell him to you at the same time too.

So Steve does something he never does. He thinks on his feet.

“Let me walk you back,” jumping up, “it’s dark and i can’t let you walk home alone,” a contained smile, the previously empty confidence now coming back.

You pucker your lips, tilting your head to the side, all the while Steve prays to God that you’ll give him one last chance.

“Sure,” shrugging coyly, as if you weren’t banking on him volunteering anyway.

“Alright,” he grins, enthusiastically nodding his head, “I’ll just say goodbye to Rob and then we can.. go,” faltering now that he’d made the leap into uncharted territory.

Steve had been a master at one night stands, only that was two years ago and Louise had served a harsh knock to his confidence. Besides all that, you were worth more than just one night.

“I’m gonna walk this one home and then head home myself,” announcing your departure to the dwindling room, heads spinning to watch the door.

Robin contains her grin, only just. Sipping on her drink to keep her blathering mouth occupied, she’d put in the work to even get him here in the first place, now all he needed to do was not fuck it up.

A chorus of goodbyes ring out behind you, stepping into the cool October air, he suddenly wishes he was wearing a little more than just his rhinestone shirt.

“This one?” you tease once out onto the street, wrapping

your arms around yourself.

Steve inhales, staring at the star filled sky, fully embracing his cringe, “don’t.. don’t talk about it.”

“Why?” you laugh, stumbling into him as you traipse down the road, “you don’t remember my name, do you?”

“Of course I do,” blowing the air out of his cheeks with full confidence, “your name… is Barbie,” so certain that that’d work on you.

You scoff, stopping dead in your tracks, “you fucking forgot,” in complete disbelief that he’d even attempt to bullshit his answer, “you’re unbelievable Steve,” really making your point, only slightly pissed off.

“Don’t do that,” unable to hold the smile from his face any longer, “I can’t help that you’re the best Barbie I’ve ever seen, you know?”

Your eyes roll back, striding past him but not without reiterating your name again, perfectly clear and right into his ear. You’re not really annoyed, at least he doesn’t think so. Steve’s sure he’ll remember your name forever after tonight, one way or another.

He expertly changes the conversation for the rest of the duration of the walk back, asking about your job and not-so-discreetly slipping your name into every other sentence.

“Well, this is me,” you smile, stopping just before the house with the extravagantly decorated door, a plethora of pumpkins litter the steps all as badly carved as the other.

He marvels at the display, the dedication to the holiday, Eddie would laugh in his face if he ever suggested carving pumpkins for their house. “Alright.. it was really nice to meet you tonight,” standing with his arms tucked neatly behind his back, “I’ve had a really nice time with you.”

You nod, slowly ascending the steps to the door, “you too, Steve. Are you.. close to here or..?” weighing up whether inviting him inside was a sane idea.

“Oh no,” shaking his head, once perfected hair now falling into his warm face, “I live like.. two miles that way,” pointing in the direction you’d walked from.

“And you decided to walk me home? Why didn’t you say something?” falling into a fit of laughter. He didn’t blame you, really, it would be crazy to anyone else.

“Because I’m a gentleman,” smiling sweetly, “it’s not a big deal,” he shrugs, though he really doesn’t anticipate having to actually walk home.

“Well thanks a lot,” unsure of the sarcasm twinge to your tone, “I didn’t realise Ken was such a gentleman.”

“Of course I am,” bowing down to tip his imaginary hat, a total performance all just to earn a sweet giggle from your mouth.

You turn, just before opening the door, your eyes low and dark, “you wouldn’t wanna.. come in, would you?” shivering under the moonlight.

“Do you? Want me to come in, I mean,” Steve can’t really think straight at all, he’s been so preoccupied with Louise to even think about the possibility of anything more happening between you two.

But now he’s here, he can’t stop his dick from twitching in his pants. You are pretty, gorgeous really. He’d be an idiot to say no.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to,” scoffing quietly.

“Well I wouldn’t want to upset you now,” cocking his grin to the side as he makes his way up the steps.

You shake your head, unmoving when he reaches the top, your bodies inches apart. The tension thick, as it had been all night. only now he was able to really feel it. Had you been looking at him like this all night? With your features pinched and your chest heaving.

Steve doesn’t think so, but then, he was so oblivious that it wouldn’t surprise him at all.

Excitement and slight intoxication courses through his veins, an excitement he hadn’t felt in months. Louise was never this happy or eager to have sex with him, it felt something like a chore most times.

You spin, breaking the tension abruptly, unlocking the door to your dark house and ushering him inside.

“You live alone?” he asks, wondering if any nosy roommates would be interfering tonight.

“Nope,” flicking the light on, “they’re all still at the party,” it’s obvious now, in the light. Pairs of shoes strewn across the floor and pictures of grinning girls line the walls, his gaze is drawn to the one of you in the summer, beaming from ear to ear as the sun beats down on your face.

Not to mention the cherry red bikini peeking out of the bottom of the picture.

“That’s.. good,” twisting his lips into a shrouded smirk.

“Oh yeah?” kicking your shoes off, the tense atmosphere made slightly softer by your nonchalance, “why’s that?” you level with him, the space between you shrinking with every step.

“I just meant.. it’s good that you don’t live all on.. your own,” struggling to make sense of his rambling with your eyes staring up at him like that, glittering while ever-so-slightly judging.

You laugh, loud and sudden, “I think you should just stop talking and kiss me,” teetering on your tiptoes as you wet your lips, an entire night of dancing around one another had led to you barking instructions at him.

He needed it, to be honest, completely fumbling around, his nerve shot and depleted.

Soft skin meets his cheek, making the first move while he stands buffering, only snapping out of his trance when your thumb grazes his lip, pressing his lips to yours in a haste. Steve had wasted too much time overthinking every move, decidedly trying not to fuck this up all night.

He can feel your smile grow against his lips, taking the control over the kiss back by finding your waist with his cold hands. Opening up an entirely new world, the metaphorical sparks fly from your skin, a passion unfelt for far too long.

You pull back only just, still brushing against his lips with your eyes pressed shut, “should we go upstairs?”

Steve thinks the answer is obvious, his grip on your waist gave that much away for sure. He nods anyway, for good measure, letting you take his hand to lead him up the cluttered stairway, almost sprinting as the urge to get you out of your clothes explodes.

“Ignore the mess,” you warn but he’s not paying any attention to anything other than you, drinking in your hips and the way they sway.

He knocks the hat from your head, hands finding solace on your back as he pulls you in again, this kiss more fiery than the last, grabby and hungry making you hum in shock. Eager to satisfy the ache in his cock, even if it were just by making out.

Your fingers work at the buttons on his shirt, brushing against his chest as his tongue moves between your lips, a fervent battle with your own. There had been no this with Louise, that was certain, a vanilla love affair that often ended in disappointment for the both of them.

The cloth leaves his shoulders, hitting the ground with a soft thump to welcome your hands around his neck, clammy as they grasp his skin. He’s a novice now, once filled with an overbearing confidence to now, a fumbling mess.

His hands feel around for your bed, laying you back across the mattress tumbling on top clumsily. Unbuttoning your waistcoat with a trembling hand, you take the reins even from underneath, sliding your legs up against his waist, further closing the distance.

Your lips unlock, allowing him time to take in a much needed breath. You’re braless underneath your costume, shimmying the fabric off and tossing it to the ground all the while actively ignoring Steve’s gawping.

“It’s rude to stare,” you jest, though you don’t attempt to hide at all.

Steve’s gaze flickers, once to your eyes and back down again, eyes wide and adoring, “I’m not sorry,” he quips back before resuming the kiss, focused on getting your pants down.

Your panties already soaked, legs opening to welcome him inside perfectly, he sits up on his knees, mouth slack as he admires the view laid before him. There hadn’t been any thought in his mind that this was how you’d end up tonight, but he’s sure glad he’s here.

His hands glide up the soft skin of your thighs, squeezing gently for good measure, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, taking his time to slide them down your legs. The tight feel of his pants suddenly becoming too much, his leaking tip pressed against the shoddy costume fabric.

“I haven’t.. it’s been a while,” he warns, a subconscious effort to turn you off as if you weren’t glistening before his eyes, pupils blown and aching for him.

“I don’t care,” you huff in response, tightening your calves around his waist.

Steve swallows the lump in his throat, in awe of your vigour, struggling to get his own pants off with the newfound tent in his crotch. Clambering back over to hover above, his dick straining against his boxers.

Your hands come to find his shoulders as his boxers come down, “you’re.. Jesus Christ,” you remark, looking down at the space between your bodies.

It was no secret that his dick was on the bigger side, that was made clear very early on in his life.

“I’m not.. not quite,” laughing to himself, the pressure easing only the tiniest bit as he fists his cock, guiding his fat tip to your weeping hole, sliding between your slick folds before easing himself inside.

Your breathing stutters in synchronicity, digging your fingernails into the sweaty skin of his neck. “Fucking.. shit,” Steve splutters, fisting the pillowcase with an almighty need to not cum right then and there.

Quickly finding his rhythm, kept in time by your in heady moans and the slight rut of your hips against his. You were an entirely new experience, your pussy drinking him in immediately and with every stroke he loses brain cells.

You whine, needily bucking your hips to meet his, sending shivers up his spine when your fingertips graze his scalp alongside the gentle tugging of his hair.

He’s grateful you’re alone as the mattress creaks inconspicuously in time with his hips, one night stands had been his forte a few years ago and he’d been caught out by rusty bed springs more times than he’d like to admit.

Your eyes struggle to stay open, jaw slack, allowing your sweet wails to escape. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” Steve gushes, a bumbling mess transfixed by your warmth.

You breathe airly, cracking a smile at his blown out eyes and furrowed brow, “not while they were inside of me no,” sliding your calf up his side, allowing him deeper.

“They should’ve,” he pants, unsure of where this was even coming from. He feels giddy, like this was always meant to happen.

You brush back the loose strands of hair from in front of his eyes, clung to his sweaty forehead, “thank you, but I kinda need you to move,” his cock stilled while he babbles on.

“Yeah.. yeah,” Steve nods, leaning down to lazily connect your lips, drawing a dulcet whimper from your throat when he sinks back into your cunt.

Warmth arises from his stomach to his chest and almost back out of his mouth, his head turning to complete fuzz. You taste like sweet wine and peppermint, your tongue dancing between his lips to battle with his. If your plan was to make him fall in love, you might’ve just succeeded.

“Shitshitshit,” you mumble, leaving the kiss to press your lips to the stubble on his jaw instead, vibrating the skin with every desperate curse and plea.

His fingers grip the space around your head, moving over to gently stroke your cheek, slowly losing his stature as the knot tightens in his stomach. “I’m gonna.. shit, I’m gonna cum,” rushing the words out before they lose all meaning in his noisy brain.

“Yeah?” lips twitching upward, “just.. just not inside,” making sure to get your very important point across before the line was blurred forever.

Pulling out of your pussy in record time before he shudders, hot ropes of his seed paint your stomach, Steve’s brain collapses in on itself before he has time to move himself. Sputtering a half-assed apology before collapsing onto the mattress next to you, breathless as he reels.

“Holy shit,” panting softly, reaching over for some discarded item of clothing to clean yourself up, letting him recover with his face pressed into your pillow, his deep, heaving breaths eventually slowing.

“Sorry for uh.. that,” glancing downward, hoping you wouldn’t now make him walk home in his costume and acres of shame.

Instead, you throw the blanket over him before snuggling in closer, a particular shine in your eye before delving into your barrage of thoughts about the night.

The sun beats through your blinds, forcing him awake far too early.

You don’t stir, still peacefully asleep on the pillow next to him. Steve couldn’t even remember falling asleep, one minute asking about your major to waking up with your legs intertwined.

The sound of his phone vibrating against the bedside table shocks him fully awake. Robin probably thought he was dead. Five missed calls and the barrage of texts definitely solidified that.

are you alive???

steve

this is serious now can you reply to me before i call the cops

He reaches down, swooping the pink bejeweled hat off of the ground and lazily placing it on his own head. sticking his tongue out at his phone before snapping a quick picture, his thumb immediately sending the picture to his, no doubt, curious best friend.

She replies almost immediately, making sure to heart react to the image before going on her tangent.

i fucking knew it!

i knew ot!!!!!!

how was it?

do u like her??

His phone vibrates in his hand, afraid he’d wake you with the incessant sound.

great

and

yes

Steve replies, leaving everything to her wild imagination.

you bastard tell me more

i knew you’d like her!

why don’t u ever trust me

He sighs, knowing that once again Robin was right.

shut up

dinner later?

She pings back instantaneously.

yes.

He clicks his phone shut, placing it back on the nightstand, the bright pink hat still perched on his head. He wanted to wake you, hoping you’d still like him the same now that you were sober.

Black streaks of your mascara are smeared across your under eye and cheeks, hell, Steve was definitely wearing it too. There’s glitter everywhere, scattered across your bedsheets and his tan skin and almost certainly his hair. His eyes slide around your cluttered room, the pictures and Taylor Swift posters that adorned the walls, piles of unfinished books on your desk. He’s particularly interested in the shelf of vinyl records, though he could fathom a guess as to what they probably were.

You rouse from your slumber next to him, sighing softly as you awaken, “nice hat,” mumble from the pillow, squinting at the sight before you, he probably looked a mess. Sure as shit felt like one.

“Oh shit,” Steve laughs, forgetting he even still had it on, “Robin was just making sure you weren’t a murderer,” tossing the hat back to the floor, his cheeks flushing a deep scarlet red.

“Not a murderer,” you chuckle, “but I might murder you for an aspirin and some fries though.”

“I think I could make that happen without you having to kill me,” he smiles, volunteering to venture into the depths of your scary house for an aspirin.

“Please do, and quickly,” grumbling from your perch on the pillow, suffering worse than he was.

“You just wait here and I’ll be back in no time,” he’s just about to clamber from the bed when the door swings open, hurriedly grabbing the blanket to keep his dignity intact as some girl he quickly identifies as your roommate bursts in.

“Oh woah,” she exclaims, pretending to cover her eyes while she peeks through the middle two, “so that’s where you went! We weren’t sure if you were dead or not,” not so unfamiliar with his snooping friends.

You groan, shuffling around your cocoon to face her, “I feel like I’m dying,” your voice gruff in comparison to the angelic tones ringing in his ears last night. He still absolutely loved it either way.

“That’s a shame,” the girl sarcastically pouts, “I was just about to ask if you and your friend would like to join us at Flannery’s tonight but if you’re dying…”

Your head perks up ever so slightly, “oh really? I think I could get myself together enough to come..” turning back to ask Steve, “what about you?”

He nods in a rather overzealous manner, “yeah, yeah I’ll be there.”

“You should invite your friend Robin I think, I mean- it’d be cool if she was there too,” shrugging her obvious pining off before flouncing out of the room in a cloud of curls and sickly perfume.

He looks over to you, your eyes already staring back, glinting with a withheld laugh, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.. I’m sure you and Robin have something way better to do.”

“No!” far too enthusiastic a response for an invite to some college town bar, “I mean, I’m sure we could show our faces.. if we really had to,” Steve wasn’t blasé about anything ever, much less confirmation that you just might like him too.

You beam, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, “okay.. good, because.. I’d really like you to be there.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #chelseeebespookyweek

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eiralunaire · 4 months ago

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Damian Wayne/Reader

Warning: soft, fluff, pregnant Reader.

Damian Wayne, with his usual seriousness, had taken on a new air since he found out he was going to become a father. He was always attentive, even more so after that casual conversation in which Reader mentioned how fragile a pregnancy was in the early stages. That simple information had deeply disturbed him, and although he did not admit it, the fear of losing her, or the baby, ate away at him inside.

Now, no matter what she was doing, Damian was always by her side, almost like a protective shadow. If she got up from the couch to go to the kitchen, he was behind her, making sure she did not bend too much, that she did not lift heavy things, and even that she did not stand for too long.

“You don’t need to do that, Damian. I’m fine,” she said, smiling tenderly as she tried to wash a plate.

But he, unfazed, took the plate from her hands with a gentle but firm gesture, placing it back in the sink.

“You don’t need to make unnecessary efforts. I can do it.”

Reader sighed, understanding that although he might seem excessive, his gestures were full of love and concern. The simple fact that she bent down to pick something up from the floor put him on the verge of panic.

“You read it in that book, right? The fetus is still very fragile in the first trimester,” she had told him one night while reading one of the many books about pregnancy that he had accumulated in the house. It was a casual comment, not intended to alarm him, but for Damian, the words remained like a permanent echo in his mind.

That night, he couldn’t sleep well. The image of something happening to Reader or the baby haunted him every time he closed his eyes. And from then on, his attention became more acute. If they went out for a walk, his hand always rested on the small of her back, guiding her carefully. At home, he offered to sit her down whenever she seemed tired, even if it was just a little.

“Damian, honey, I’m really okay. I’m not made of glass,” she would tell him, smiling sweetly.

But he would just nod, his jaw clenched slightly as his green eyes looked at her with concern. He was a warrior, trained to fight crime, but this new challenge, the fragility of life inside his wife, made him feel out of control.

There were nights when, even though Reader slept peacefully, he would lie awake, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath. His hand, always delicate, caressed her still barely bulging belly, as if he could protect the baby just by touching her.

One afternoon, Reader tried to bend down to pick up a book she had dropped, and before she could even reach out her hand, Damian was already kneeling in front of her, taking the book and quickly standing up.

“You don’t have to bend down. I’ll take care of it,” he said in a serious tone, but with a slight concern in his eyes.

She laughed softly, caressing his cheek. “I can’t live my life without bending over from time to time. You know that, right?”

“Yes, but if there is any risk, even a small one, I prefer to prevent it.”

The intensity of his gaze told Reader that it wasn’t simply a logical precaution; for him, every little movement represented a possible threat. But at the same time, that intensity was charged with love and devotion.

When it was time to sleep, Damian made sure that Reader was completely comfortable. He strategically placed pillows to support her back and belly, adjusted the sheets, and even monitored the temperature of the room to make sure it was perfect.

And although it might seem exaggerated, Reader knew that all of this was a sign of the immense love that Damian felt, a love that had transformed him from a vigilante obsessed with justice into a husband and future father full of tenderness and, above all, fear of losing what he valued most in the world.

“I’m going to be okay, Damian. We’re doing fine,” she assured him every night, intertwining her fingers with his as she gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

“I know,” he replied, though his gaze still showed the shadow of that constant worry.

Because for Damian Wayne, every day was a battle against the fear of losing the woman he loved and the future they had begun to build together. And as long as that fear accompanied him, he would never stop being by her side, protecting her with every fiber of his being.

#damian wayne x reader #dcu #damian wayne

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moonstruckme · 5 months ago

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Hi gorgeous! I love ur writing!! Here's a lil blurb request for either Sirius or Remus! It's not smut but more like the lead up/conversation beforehand. Like May be a super inexperienced reader and she's nervous af bc she knows he has way more experience than her and she's worried about being good enough for him or worried about disappointing him and he's just so sweet and reassuring and is just happy she trusts him

Thank you for requesting my love!

cw: mature themes (and immature jokes), no smut

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 667 words

“You’re not gonna suck, baby.” Sirius is laughing at you, which isn’t really the response you were hoping for. You’re so embarrassed it’s making your palms sweat.

“Or,” he reconsiders, “you could, of course, but there’s no pressure to.”

You blow out a frustrated breath. “Can you please just take me…” you trail off, realizing you’re about to hand your boyfriend another joke. By the gleam in Sirius’ eyes, he realizes it too. “Can we please not joke around for a minute?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He smooths his face into something approaching sobriety. “We can.”

You’re not sure how he can be so much more comfortable than you right now. Sirius is sitting across from you on the bed, criss-cross applesauce in only his boxers. You at least have on pajamas, and yet this conversation is making you feel more naked than he is.

He asks in a gentler tone, “What is it that you’re worried about, sweetheart? We don’t have to do anything before you’re ready.”

“It’s not that I don’t feel ready,” you sigh. “I want to, I just…I want you to like it.”

Sirius barks out a laugh. “Well, I don’t think we’re in any danger there.”

“You know what I mean.” You shrink away from him a bit, drawing into yourself. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want it to be disappointing.”

“Baby. Hey.” Sirius scoots closer to you. He ducks his head, catching your gaze and holding on tight. “It doesn’t matter how much experience you have. It could never be disappointing.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s you,” he says, emphatic, like it’s obvious. “I always love being with you, it doesn’t matter what we’re doing. And I know sex is going to be the same.” He leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. “Sweetheart, you could slap my ass and spit on me and I’d just be thrilled you were there.”

You fight to keep a straight face, furrowing your brows. “So…I shouldn’t do those things?”

“I’m actually not sure.” Sirius sits up, shrugging. “I could be into it, I’ve never tried. Point is, you can do whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what I want,” you tell him, though you are, admittedly, a bit less worried now. “I don’t want to just lie there, I don’t think, but I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.”

“There’s nothing you’re supposed to do, babydoll.” He gives you a little smile and reaches for your hand. When you give it to him, he holds it in his lap, thumbs tracing the lines of your palm soothingly. “It’s okay not to have a plan going into things. That’s how it usually happens, no matter how many times you’ve done it. You just feel it out and go with the flow.”

You chew your lip. Sirius is looking at you so kindly, his expression warm and open and his touch caring as he starts to draw a slow path up the inside of your wrist. You don’t want to keep arguing with him. Maybe that’s why your voice comes out so small.

“But what if I can’t?”

“You can.” There’s no hesitation in Sirius, no uncertainty. “You really don’t need to worry about it. Your body will react if you let it, and whatever happens, I’ll be there to talk you through it, yeah?”

You exhale. “That actually makes me feel a lot better,” you admit.

Sirius smiles. “I’m glad,” he says, lifting your hand to give your finger a teasing nibble. “Hey, we’re not doing this until you decide you feel like it, so don’t stress, okay? I’ll make sure you have a good time when we do.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “How’re you gonna do that?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes gleam. “You wanna find out? I can give you a preview, if you like.”

You don’t have to answer before he’s crawling up on top of you, your giggles lost into his mouth.

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pucksandpower · 6 months ago

Text

Pinky Promise

Logan Sargeant x Vowles!Reader x Carlos Sainz

Summary: you had it all planned out — do whatever you can to make Carlos Sainz regret the day he signed a contract to replace your best friend — falling in love with both of them wasn’t in your plans, but when has love ever been predictable?

The soft hum of the air conditioning fills the hotel room as you and Logan lie side by side on top of the crisp white sheets. Your heads are close together, almost touching, as you both stare up at the ceiling. The silence between you is comfortable, but heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Logan’s voice breaks through, barely above a whisper. “I still can’t believe it.”

You turn your head slightly, studying his profile. “I know. It doesn’t feel real.”

He lets out a long sigh. “I mean, I knew it was a possibility, but ... I thought I’d have more time, you know?”

“You deserved more time,” you say firmly. “Dad should have-”

Logan cuts you off gently. “Hey, no. Don’t put this on your dad. He’s doing what’s best for the team.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him with a frown. “But you’re what’s best for the team.”

A small, sad smile tugs at Logan’s lips. “That’s sweet of you to say, but we both know that’s not true. Not anymore, at least.”

“Logan ...”

He shakes his head, still staring at the ceiling. “It’s okay. Really. I’m... I’m grateful for the opportunity I had. Not everyone gets to live their dream, even if it’s just for a little while.”

You flop back down onto the bed with a huff. “Your dream isn’t over. This is just ... a detour.”

Logan chuckles, but it sounds hollow. “A detour to where, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But somewhere amazing. You’re too talented for this to be the end.”

There’s a long pause before Logan speaks again. “They’re saying Sainz is going to replace me.”

You stiffen at the name. “Carlos? Are you sure?”

“Nothing’s official yet, but ... yeah. Pretty sure.”

You sit up abruptly, a fire in your eyes. “Well, that settles it then.”

Logan looks at you warily. “Settles what?”

“I’m going to make his life absolutely miserable next season.”

Logan’s eyes widen. “Y/N, no. You can’t-”

“Oh, I absolutely can,” you say with a mischievous grin. “And I will.”

Logan sits up too, shaking his head. “Come on, you know that’s not fair. It’s not Carlos’ fault.”

“Maybe not,” you concede. “But he’s benefiting from this injustice, so he’s fair game.”

“Your dad will kill you,” Logan points out.

You shrug. “Worth it.”

“Y/N, I’m serious. You can’t do this.”

“Watch me,” you challenge, holding out your pinky finger. “I’ll even make it official.”

Logan eyes your outstretched finger like it might bite him. “I’m not letting you promise me that.”

“C’mon Logie, live a little,” you tease, wiggling your pinky enticingly.

He groans. “I’m going to get fired for conspiracy or something.”

“Well, they already fired you once,” you point out. “Can’t do it again. So let me just make this promise to you.”

Logan hesitates for a long moment before finally relenting. He hooks his pinky around yours with a resigned sigh.

“I, Y/N Vowles, pinky promise to make Carlos Way Too Many Names Sainz wish he was dead-”

“Y/N,” Logan warns.

You roll your eyes. “Okay! I solemnly swear to make his life a living hell! Better?”

“Marginally,” Logan mutters. Then, with a hint of a smile, he adds, “Okay, and I, Logan Sargeant, pinky promise to win whatever the hell I end up going to next … this is ridiculous.”

“Logan!” You gasp in mock outrage. “Don’t say that. We’re doing a ritual here.”

You tug your joined hands towards your mouth, lightly kissing Logan’s finger where it’s wrapped around yours. He mirrors the action, and you both pretend not to notice the dusting of pink on each other’s cheeks.

“Now what?” Logan asks softly as you lower your hands.

“Now we wait for the future,” you reply with a small smile, slowly detangling your pinkies.

Logan flops back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. “The future. Right. No pressure or anything.”

You lie back down next to him, your shoulders just barely touching. “Hey, no pressure. Remember? We’ve got pinky promises on our side now.”

Logan snorts. “Oh yeah, because those are legally binding.”

“More binding than any contract,” you insist solemnly. “Break a pinky promise and you lose the finger. It’s the law.”

“Is that so?” Logan asks, amusement coloring his voice.

You nod sagely. “Absolutely. It’s in the Constitution and everything.”

“Which Constitution would that be?”

“The International Pinky Promise Constitution. Obviously.”

Logan finally cracks, letting out a genuine laugh that makes your heart feel a little lighter. “Oh, obviously. How could I forget about that very real document?”

You grin, turning on your side to face him. “See? I knew you’d come around to the seriousness of our pact.”

Logan mirrors your position, his expression sobering slightly. “Y/N, you know you don’t actually have to do anything, right? I appreciate the thought, but I don’t want you jeopardizing your relationship with your dad or ... or doing anything you might regret.”

You reach out, gently squeezing his arm. “Hey. I know. And I’m not going to do anything truly terrible, I promise. But a little harmless mischief to make Carlos’ life interesting? That’s fair game.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “Define ‘harmless mischief.’”

You grin wickedly. “Oh, you know. The classics. Whoopee cushions. Plastic wrap on doorways. Maybe I’ll learn to play the kazoo and practice outside his hotel room at 3 AM.”

“You wouldn’t,” Logan gasps in mock horror.

“Try me, Sargeant,” you challenge.

Logan shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “But you love me anyway.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and for a moment, the air between you feels charged. Logan’s eyes widen slightly, and you find yourself holding your breath.

“Yeah,” he says softly after what feels like an eternity. “I guess I do.”

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, but before you can respond, Logan clears his throat and sits up.

“We should probably get some sleep,” he says, not quite meeting your eyes. “Early start tomorrow.”

You nod, trying to ignore the slight sting of disappointment. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”

As you both stand up from the bed, an awkward tension settles over the room. You hover uncertainly by the door, not quite ready to leave.

“Logan?” You say softly.

He looks up at you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

You take a deep breath. “No matter what happens next ... I’m always going to be in your corner. You know that, right?”

Logan’s face softens, and he crosses the room to pull you into a tight hug. “I know,” he murmurs into your hair. “Thank you.”

You close your eyes, savoring the warmth of his embrace. “Anytime. That’s what best friends are for, right?”

Logan pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders. For a moment, you think he might say something more, but then he just smiles and nods.

“Right,” he agrees. “Best friends.”

As you leave his room and head back to your own, you can’t help but wonder if there might be something more simmering beneath the surface of your friendship. But for now, you push those thoughts aside. Logan needs you as his friend right now, and that’s exactly what you’ll be.

Besides, you have a season of mischief to plan.

***

Carlos steps into the Williams headquarters with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. It’s his first day as an official driver for the team, and he’s determined to make a good impression. As he’s led through the facility, he can’t help but notice the curious glances and whispered conversations that follow in his wake.

“And here’s our main break room,” his tour guide announces, pushing open a set of double doors.

Carlos’ attention is immediately drawn to a figure standing by a table laden with what appears to be refreshments. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the sight before him.

You’re wearing a pale blue apron over a simple sundress, your hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. There’s a smudge of what looks like flour on your cheek, and your eyes are sparkling with barely contained mischief. To Carlos, you look like you’ve stepped straight out of a 1950s magazine, and he’s instantly smitten.

“Ah, Carlos!” You exclaim, your voice warm and inviting. “I’m so glad you’re here. I made something special to welcome you to the team.”

Carlos approaches, unable to take his eyes off you. “That’s very kind of you, señorita ...”

“Oh, where are my manners?” You giggle, extending a hand. “I’m Y/N Vowles. James’ daughter.”

Carlos takes your hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard wonderful things about you from your father.”

You blush prettily, and Carlos feels his heart skip a beat. “All lies, I’m sure,” you tease. “But come, you must try the cake I made. It’s a special recipe.”

Carlos allows himself to be led to the table, where a beautiful cake sits proudly on a stand. It’s frosted in a vibrant red, with delicate swirls of orange and yellow that make it look almost like flames.

“It looks incredible,” Carlos says, genuinely impressed. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me.”

You wave off his words with a bright smile. “Nonsense! It’s not every day we get such an esteemed driver joining our team. I wanted to make something that would really ... leave an impression.”

There’s something in the way you say those last words that makes Carlos pause, but he brushes it off as nerves. After all, what could be wrong with a simple cake?

“Well, then,” Carlos grins, “I’d be honored to have the first slice.”

You clap your hands together excitedly. “Wonderful! Let me just grab a knife.”

As you bustle around, cutting a generous slice and placing it on a plate, Carlos can’t help but admire the way you move. There’s a grace to your actions, but also a hint of barely contained energy, like you’re holding back laughter.

“Here you are,” you say, presenting him with the cake and a fork. “I do hope you enjoy it.”

Carlos takes the plate, noticing how several other team members have gathered around, watching with interest. He supposes it’s natural for them to be curious about the new driver.

“Gracias, hermosa,” he says, flashing you his most charming smile. He takes a bite, savoring the sweet flavor for a moment before ...

Fire erupts in his mouth.

Carlos’ eyes widen in shock as the heat hits him full force. It’s like someone has poured molten lava directly onto his tongue. He coughs, struggling to catch his breath as tears spring to his eyes.

“Is something wrong?” You ask innocently, though there’s a glint in your eye that suggests you know exactly what’s happening.

Carlos tries to speak, but all that comes out is a choked gasp. He reaches for the nearest glass of water, downing it in one go, but it does little to quell the inferno in his mouth.

Through the haze of tears, he sees you watching him, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. And despite the agony he’s in, Carlos can’t help but think you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Hermosa,” he finally manages to croak out between coughs, “I’m touched you tried to make a cake in honor of my nickname, but I got it because I don’t like chili.”

You tilt your head to the side, the picture of innocence. “Oh? I had no idea. How terribly unfortunate.”

Carlos isn’t sure, but he thinks he detects a note of satisfaction in your voice. He wipes at his streaming eyes, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“What ... what kind of pepper did you use?” He asks, his voice hoarse.

You tap a finger against your chin, as if deep in thought. “Oh, you know, just a little of this, a little of that. I believe there might have been some Carolina Reaper in there. And maybe a touch of Ghost Pepper. Or was it Trinidad Scorpion? It’s so hard to keep track.”

Carlos’ jaw drops. “You ... you put the world’s hottest peppers in a cake?”

You shrug, your eyes dancing with barely concealed glee. “I wanted it to have a real kick. After all, you’re going to need all the fire you can get to keep up with our team, aren’t you?”

There’s something in your tone that makes Carlos wonder if there’s more to this than a simple baking mishap. But surely, he reasons, no one would go to such lengths just to make him uncomfortable on his first day. Would they?

“I ... appreciate the thought,” Carlos says, trying to be diplomatic despite the fact that his entire mouth feels like it’s been scrubbed with sandpaper. “But perhaps next time, a simple vanilla cake would suffice?”

You laugh, the sound like tinkling bells. “Oh, Carlos. Where’s the fun in that?”

Carlos finds himself chuckling despite the lingering burn. There’s something about you that he finds utterly captivating, even if you did just try to melt his taste buds.

“You know,” you say, leaning in conspiratorially, “I’ve heard that milk can help with the heat. Would you like some?”

Carlos nods eagerly. “Sí, por favor. That would be wonderful.”

You disappear for a moment, returning with a tall glass of milk. Carlos takes it gratefully, downing half of it in one go. It’s only after he’s swallowed that he realizes something is ... off.

The milk tastes sour, curdled. Carlos gags, barely managing to keep from spitting it out in front of everyone.

“Oh dear,” you say, your eyes wide with feigned concern. “Is the milk not to your liking either? How terribly clumsy of me. I must have grabbed the wrong carton.”

Carlos looks at you, really looks at you, and suddenly he’s sure that none of this is an accident. But why? What has he done to deserve such treatment?

Before he can voice any of these thoughts, you’re already backing away, that mischievous smile still playing on your lips.

“Well, I should really get going,” you announce. “Lots to do, you know how it is. Welcome to the team, Carlos. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

With that, you turn on your heel, giving your hair a little flip as you saunter towards the door. Just before you exit, you glance back over your shoulder, meeting Carlos’ bewildered gaze.

“Oh, and Carlos?” You say sweetly. “Do try to stay cool out there on the track, won’t you?”

And with a final giggle, you’re gone, leaving Carlos standing there with a burning mouth, sour milk, and more questions than answers.

As the other team members rush to get him water and apologize for the “mix-up,” Carlos finds his thoughts drifting back to you. Despite everything, he can’t deny the spark of intrigue you’ve ignited in him. You’re a puzzle, one he’s suddenly very eager to solve.

“Are you alright, mate?” One of the mechanics asks, looking concerned.

Carlos nods, a slow smile spreading across his face despite the lingering burn. “Sí, I’m fine. Just ... adjusting to the Williams welcome, I suppose.”

As he’s led away to continue his tour, Carlos can’t shake the feeling that his time at Williams is going to be far more interesting than he’d anticipated. And somehow, he’s looking forward to every moment of it.

Because if there’s one thing Carlos loves, it’s a challenge. And you, with your sweet smile and fiery surprises, might just be the biggest challenge he’s ever faced.

Game on, he thinks to himself. Game on.

***

The bell above the door chimes as you step into the local Boots pharmacy, a mischievous glint in your eye. You scan the aisles, searching for your target: the hair care section. As you approach, a friendly-looking employee notices your slightly lost expression and approaches.

“Can I help you find anything?” She asks with a smile.

You put on your most innocent face. “Oh, yes, please. I’m looking for some hair products, but I’m not sure where to start. What would you say are the absolute worst ones you carry?”

The employee’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’m sorry, did you say worst?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yes, exactly. The ones you’d never recommend to anyone. The cheapest, most damaging products you have.”

“Well,” the employee says hesitantly, “we don’t really carry anything I’d consider ‘damaging,’ but there are certainly some budget options that aren’t as high-quality as others.”

“Perfect!” You exclaim. “Those are exactly what I’m looking for. Could you show me?”

Still looking confused, the employee leads you down the aisle. “May I ask why you’re interested in these particular products?”

You think quickly. “Oh, it’s for a ... science experiment. I’m testing the effects of different hair products on ... um ... synthetic hair fibers.”

The employee doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she shrugs and starts pointing out various items. “Well, if you’re looking for the least effective products, I’d say stay away from these. This shampoo tends to leave a residue, this conditioner is known for making hair feel greasy, and this styling gel can make hair crunchy and flaky.”

You nod along, grabbing each item as she mentions it. “Excellent, excellent. Any others?”

By the time you’re done, your basket is overflowing with an assortment of the cheapest, least recommended hair products in the store. The employee eyes your haul with concern.

“Are you sure you want all of these?” She asks.

You flash her a bright smile. “Absolutely! The more data points for my experiment, the better. Thank you so much for your help!”

As you make your way to the checkout, you can’t help but giggle to yourself. Phase two of Operation Humble Carlos is officially underway.

Later that evening, you find yourself outside a sleek apartment building in the heart of Grove. Your heart races with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as you fish a key out of your pocket — a key you had “borrowed” from your father’s desk drawer earlier that day.

“Sorry, Dad,” you mutter under your breath as you slip into the building. “But desperate times call for desperate measures.”

You make your way up to the fifth floor, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. Pausing outside apartment 5C, you take a deep breath and slide the key into the lock. It turns smoothly, and you’re in.

Carlos’ temporary apartment is immaculate, with minimalist furniture and a few personal touches here and there. You spot a framed photo of him with his family on a side table and feel a twinge of guilt. But then you remember Logan’s devastated face when he learned he was being replaced, and your resolve hardens.

“Right,” you say to yourself, setting down your bag of drugstore products. “Let’s get to work.”

You head straight for the bathroom, knowing you don’t have much time before Carlos returns from his evening training session. The bathroom is just as pristine as the rest of the apartment, with a array of expensive-looking products lined up neatly on the counter.

You pick up one of the bottles, whistling low under your breath as you read the label. “Oribe? Fancy.” You turn the bottle over, eyes widening at the price tag still stuck to the bottom. “Holy... that’s more than my entire hair care budget for a year!”

Shaking your head, you get to work. One by one, you empty out Carlos’ high-end products, replacing them with the cheap alternatives you bought. You’re careful to match shampoo for shampoo, conditioner for conditioner, making sure the consistencies are as close as possible.

As you work, you can’t help but imagine Carlos’ reaction tomorrow morning. Will his precious locks turn into a frizzy mess? Will his signature style fall flat? The thought makes you giggle.

“This is for Logan,” you remind yourself as you squeeze the last of a particularly goopy gel into its fancy counterpart’s bottle.

Just as you’re putting the finishing touches on your handiwork, you hear a key in the lock. Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Mierda,” you hear Carlos mutter from the other side of the door. “Where did I put that ...”

You freeze, panic setting in. You hadn’t planned on him coming back so soon. Thinking quickly, you gather up all the evidence of your presence – empty drugstore bottles, discarded packaging – and shove it into your bag.

The front door opens just as you’re zipping up your bag. You can hear Carlos humming to himself as he moves around the apartment. Holding your breath, you ease the bathroom door open a crack, peering out into the hallway.

Carlos is in the kitchen, his back to you as he rummages through the fridge. This is your chance. You slip out of the bathroom, tiptoeing towards the front door with the stealth of a cat burglar.

Just as your hand touches the doorknob, Carlos speaks. “Hello? Is someone there?”

You freeze, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he must be able to hear it. You hear his footsteps approaching and, in a moment of panic, you duck behind the coat rack by the door.

Carlos appears in the hallway, looking confused. “Huh, could have sworn I heard something.”

He’s close enough that you can smell his cologne — a spicy, woodsy scent that makes your head spin a little. You hold your breath, praying he doesn’t look too closely at the coat rack.

After what feels like an eternity, Carlos shrugs and turns back towards the kitchen. “Must be imagining things. Maybe I need an early night.”

As soon as he’s out of sight, you make your move. In one fluid motion, you slip out from behind the coat rack and out the front door, closing it as quietly as possible behind you.

You don’t stop running until you’re out of the building and halfway down the block. Only then do you allow yourself to breathe, leaning against a lamppost as you try to calm your racing heart.

“That,” you gasp between breaths, “was way too close.”

But as the adrenaline starts to fade, a giddy excitement takes its place. You did it. Operation Humble Carlos, phase two, is complete. Now all that’s left is to wait and see the results.

As you make your way home, you can’t help but wonder what tomorrow will bring. Will Carlos notice the difference in his hair? Will the promotional photos be a disaster? The possibilities are endless, and you find yourself grinning at the thought.

“Sweet dreams, Carlos,” you murmur as you unlock your own front door. “Tomorrow’s going to be a bad hair day.”

***

Carlos arrives at the Williams factory, his stomach in knots. He’s been dreading this moment since he woke up this morning to find his usually luscious locks in a state of utter disarray. No amount of styling or product seemed to help — if anything, each attempt only made things worse.

As he walks into the building, cap pulled low over his eyes, he can’t shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong. His hair has never betrayed him like this before, not even on the most humid race days.

“Carlos! There you are,” James greets him with a warm smile. “We were starting to worry you’d gotten lost.”

Carlos forces a laugh, trying to appear at ease. “Lo siento, just a bit of traffic. You know how it is.”

James nods sympathetically. “Of course, of course. Well, the photography team is all set up in the main conference room. Shall we?”

As they walk, Carlos can’t help but scan the hallways, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Despite the cake incident and his current hair crisis, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to you. There’s something about your mischievous smile that both intrigues and unnerves him.

The conference room is a hive of activity when they enter. Lights are being adjusted, backdrops shifted, and various team personnel mill about in their crisp uniforms. In the center of it all stands the photographer, a petite woman with a no-nonsense air about her.

“Ah, there’s our star!” She exclaims upon seeing Carlos. “I’m Lisa, I’ll be shooting you today. Let’s get you to hair and makeup, shall we?”

Carlos feels a wave of panic. “Ah, actually, I was thinking ... perhaps we could do some shots with the cap? You know, for a more casual look?”

Lisa frowns. “That wasn’t in the brief. We need clean, professional shots for the team profiles.”

“I know, I know,” Carlos says quickly. “But maybe just a few? For social media or something?”

Before Lisa can respond, a familiar voice cuts through the room. “Oh, come now, Carlos. You can’t hide that famous hair of yours.”

Carlos turns to see you sauntering towards him, a playful smirk on your lips. His heart does a little flip, even as alarm bells ring in his head.

“Y/N,” he greets you, trying to keep his voice steady. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You shrug, your eyes twinkling with barely contained mischief. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I’m quite interested in seeing how you ... present yourself to the team.”

There’s something in your tone that makes Carlos wonder, not for the first time, if you might have something to do with his current predicament. But surely not. How could you possibly have tampered with his hair products?

“Well,” Lisa interjects, clearly growing impatient, “cap or no cap, we need to get started. Carlos, if you could please take a seat in the makeup chair?”

Carlos hesitates, his hand unconsciously moving to adjust his cap. “I ... I’m not sure that’s necessary. I did my own styling this morning.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Did you now? Well, don’t keep us in suspense, Smooth Operator. Let’s see this expert styling of yours.”

The room has gone quiet, all eyes on Carlos. He can feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he weighs his options. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he slowly removes his cap.

There’s a collective gasp from the room. Carlos squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to see the looks of horror he’s sure are on everyone’s faces.

“Oh my,” he hears Lisa mutter.

“Carlos,” James says gently, “is everything alright?”

Carlos opens his eyes, forcing himself to face the room. “I ... I don’t know what happened. I used my usual products this morning, but ...”

His voice trails off as he catches sight of his reflection in a nearby mirror. His normally sleek, perfectly coiffed hair is a disaster. It’s frizzy and dull, sticking out at odd angles and looking more like a bird’s nest than anything resembling a hairstyle.

“Well,” you say, barely containing your laughter, “I suppose this gives new meaning to bed head, doesn’t it?”

Carlos turns to you, a mix of embarrassment and suspicion coloring his cheeks. “This isn’t funny, Y/N. I look ridiculous.”

You put on an exaggerated pout. “Aw, come now, Carlos. I think it’s rather ... charming. Very avant-garde. You could start a new trend.”

Despite his predicament, Carlos finds himself fighting back a smile. There’s something about your teasing that he can’t help but find endearing, even if he’s fairly certain you’re somehow behind this catastrophe.

“Right,” Lisa says, clapping her hands together. “Well, we can work with this. Margie, bring out the heavy-duty products. We’ve got some ... taming to do.”

As the makeup artist approaches with an array of styling tools, Carlos braces himself for what’s sure to be an uncomfortable experience. To his surprise, you pull up a chair next to him.

“Mind if I stay and watch the transformation?” You ask innocently. “I’m always fascinated by the magic of Hollywood-style makeovers.”

Carlos narrows his eyes at you. “Why do I get the feeling you’re enjoying this a little too much?”

You gasp dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “Me? Enjoy your discomfort? I would never.”

Despite everything, Carlos finds himself chuckling. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” you reply with a wink.

As Margie gets to work on Carlos’ hair, applying what seems like gallons of product and wielding a comb like a weapon, you keep up a steady stream of chatter. You ask about his move to England, his first impressions of the team, his hopes for the upcoming season. Despite his initial wariness, Carlos finds himself relaxing, drawn into easy conversation with you.

“You know,” he says during a brief lull while Margie fetches more hairspray, “for someone who seems intent on making my life difficult, you’re surprisingly easy to talk to.”

You tilt your head, a small smile playing at your lips. “Who says I’m trying to make your life difficult?”

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “The cake? This hair situation? I may be new here, but I’m not stupid.”

You lean in close, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Maybe I just like seeing you a little ... ruffled.”

Carlos’ breath catches in his throat at your proximity. He’s suddenly very aware of the subtle floral scent of your perfume, the way your eyes seem to sparkle with hidden laughter.

“There!” Margie announces triumphantly, breaking the moment. “I think we’ve salvaged it.”

Carlos turns to the mirror, bracing himself. To his immense relief, his hair looks ... well, not perfect, but certainly presentable. It’s styled in a slightly messier way than he usually wears it, but it works.

“What do you think?” He asks, turning to you.

You study him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Then, to his surprise, you reach out and gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

“Not bad,” you say softly. “But I think I preferred the bird’s nest.”

With that, you stand up and saunter away, leaving Carlos staring after you with a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

“Alright,” Lisa calls. “Let’s get you in front of the camera.”

As Carlos takes his place in front of the backdrop, his mind is racing. He’s still not sure what game you’re playing, but he’s becoming increasingly certain that he wants to be a part of it. There’s something about you that draws him in, despite (or perhaps because of) your apparent determination to keep him on his toes.

“Smile!” Lisa instructs, and Carlos obliges, flashing his most charming grin at the camera.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots you watching from the sidelines, that ever-present mischievous smirk on your face. As the camera flashes, Carlos makes a silent vow to himself. He’s going to figure you out, Y/N Vowles, no matter what it takes.

***

The Australian sun beats down mercilessly on the Albert Park Circuit as Carlos leans against the wall of the Williams garage, his eyes fixed on the screens displaying telemetry data from Alex’s current lap. It’s the first day of preseason testing, and while Carlos is eager to get behind the wheel himself, he knows his turn won’t come until the afternoon session.

A familiar voice cuts through his thoughts. “Well, well, if it isn’t our resident Spaniard. Enjoying the view?”

Carlos turns to see you approaching, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. Despite his best efforts to remain wary after the hair incident, he can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Y/N,” he greets you, trying to keep his tone neutral. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You shrug, coming to stand beside him. “Oh, you know me. I like to keep an eye on things. Make sure everything’s running smoothly.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “Is that so? And here I thought you might be here to cause more mischief.”

You gasp in mock offense. “Mischief? Me? I’m wounded, Carlos. Truly wounded.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe after the cake incident. And the hair fiasco.”

“Pure coincidence,” you say airily, waving a hand. “I can’t be held responsible for your sensitive taste buds or your apparent allergic reaction to ... whatever hair products you used that day.”

Carlos narrows his eyes, studying your face for any sign of guilt. But your expression remains innocently neutral, save for that ever-present glint of mischief in your eyes.

“Right,” he says slowly. “Coincidence. Of course.”

You lean in closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “You know, Carlos, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were becoming a bit paranoid. Seeing sabotage around every corner. That can’t be healthy.”

Carlos feels his pulse quicken at your proximity. Despite his suspicions, he can’t deny the effect you have on him. “Perhaps I have good reason to be cautious, no?”

You pull back, laughing. “Oh, lighten up, Chili. I’m just trying to keep things interesting around here. You wouldn’t want to be bored during your first season with us, would you?”

Before Carlos can respond, a cheer goes up from the garage as Alex completes another fast lap. You both turn to watch the screens, momentarily distracted by the flurry of activity.

“He’s doing well,” Carlos comments, genuinely impressed by the times he’s seeing.

You nod, a hint of pride in your voice. “Alex is a fantastic driver. You’ve got some big shoes to fill, you know.”

There’s an edge to your words that makes Carlos wonder, not for the first time, about your relationship with the team’s previous driver. He’s heard rumors about your close friendship with Logan Sargeant, the man he replaced.

“I intend to do my best,” Carlos says carefully. “For the team, and for myself.”

You turn to face him, your expression unreadable. “I’m sure you will. Just remember, Carlos, this isn’t just any team. It’s a family. And family ... well, family looks out for each other.”

There’s a weight to your words that Carlos can’t quite decipher. Are you warning him? Threatening him? Or simply stating a fact?

Before he can ponder it further, you abruptly change the subject. “Oh, did you happen to see that article I was reading earlier? Fascinating stuff.”

Carlos blinks at the sudden shift. “Article? What article?”

You pull out your phone, scrolling through it with a look of concentration. “It was about recent medical findings. Quite eye-opening, really. Did you know that having your appendix removed has been shown to shorten your life expectancy?”

Carlos feels a chill run down his spine. “What? That ... that can’t be right.”

You nod solemnly. “Oh yes, it’s all here in black and white. Apparently, the appendix plays a more crucial role in our overall health than previously thought. Something about gut bacteria and immune system function. People who’ve had appendectomies are at higher risk for all sorts of health issues later in life.”

Carlos’ mind is racing. He had his appendix removed just last year after a sudden, severe case of appendicitis. At the time, he’d been told it was a routine procedure with no long-term consequences.

“Can I ... can I see that article?” He asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

You look up from your phone, a look of concern crossing your face. “Oh, Carlos, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot about your surgery last year. How insensitive of me to bring this up.”

Carlos shakes his head, reaching for the phone. “No, it’s fine. I just want to read it for myself.”

But you’ve already tucked the phone away. “You know what? Let’s not dwell on it. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. These studies are always changing, right? One day something’s bad for you, the next it’s a superfood.”

Carlos frowns, a nagging suspicion growing in the back of his mind. “Y/N, why did you really bring this up?”

You blink innocently. “Bring what up? Oh, the article? Like I said, I just found it interesting. No ulterior motive, I assure you.”

But there’s a glint in your eye that tells Carlos otherwise. He takes a step closer, his voice low. “Is this another one of your games? Are you trying to get in my head before the testing session?”

You hold his gaze, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. “Now why would I do something like that? I’m just making conversation. Keeping you company during what must be a very boring morning for you.”

Carlos runs a hand through his hair, frustration and confusion warring within him. “I don’t understand you. One moment you’re friendly, the next you’re ... what? Trying to sabotage me? Scare me? What’s your endgame here?”

Your expression softens slightly. “Oh, Carlos. Not everything has to have an endgame. Sometimes life is just ... interesting. Don’t you think?”

Before he can respond, a commotion from the pit lane draws both of your attention. Alex’s car is being wheeled back into the garage, signaling the end of his morning session.

“Well,” you say brightly, “looks like it’s almost your turn. Better get ready, Chili. Wouldn’t want any ... distractions affecting your performance, would we?”

With that, you turn on your heel and saunter away, leaving Carlos staring after you with a mixture of frustration and intrigue.

As he watches you disappear into the crowd of team personnel, Carlos can’t shake the feeling that he’s just been played. Again. But instead of anger, he feels a strange sense of ... excitement? Challenge?

“Two can play at this game, Y/N,” he mutters to himself as he heads towards the locker room to change into his racing suit. “Two can play at this game.”

As he prepares for his testing session, Carlos finds his mind drifting back to your conversation. He knows he should be focused on the task at hand, on the data he needs to gather for the team. But he can’t help but wonder what your next move will be. And, more importantly, how he’ll respond.

For the first time since joining Williams, Carlos feels truly alive. The racing, the competition, it all pales in comparison to the intricate dance he seems to be engaged in with you. It’s dangerous, he knows. You’re a distraction he can’t afford. And yet ...

As he climbs into the cockpit of his car, helmet in hand, Carlos makes a decision. He’s going to solve the puzzle that is Y/N Vowles. He’s going to figure out your game, your motivations, your secrets. And when he does ...

Well, that’s when the real fun will begin.

With a grin hidden behind his visor, Carlos starts the engine. The roar drowns out all other thoughts, leaving only the track ahead and the challenge that awaits. Both on the circuit and off.

***

Carlos strolls down the plush carpeted hallway of the hotel, his mind still buzzing from the day’s testing session. The scent of leather and polished wood fills the air, a stark contrast to the oil and rubber smells he’s grown accustomed to at the track. As he approaches his room, a familiar voice catches his attention.

He pauses, realizing the sound is coming from your room, just a few doors down from his own. Carlos hesitates, knowing he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but curiosity gets the better of him. He takes a few quiet steps closer, straining to make out the words.

“... miss you too, Logie,” he hears you say, your voice muffled but unmistakable. “It’s not the same around here without you.”

Carlos’ eyebrows shoot up. Logie? As in Logan Sargeant? Intrigued, he moves closer, pressing his ear gently against the door.

A male voice responds, tinny and distant — likely on speakerphone. “I know, Y/N. But hey, at least you’re keeping busy, right? How’s Operation Torment Carlos going?”

Carlos feels his pulse quicken. So he was right — you have been deliberately messing with him.

He hears you laugh, a sound that sends an involuntary shiver down his spine despite the circumstances. “Oh, it’s going splendidly. You should have seen his face when he took off that cap at the photoshoot. Priceless!”

“Y/N,” Logan’s voice carries a note of concern. “Don’t you think maybe you’re taking this a bit too far? I mean, it’s not really Carlos’ fault that Williams decided to-”

“Shh,” you interrupt. “We don’t say that name around here, remember? And besides, I made a promise. A pinky promise, Logan. Those are sacred.”

Carlos leans in closer, his ear practically glued to the door now. A promise? What kind of promise?

Logan sighs audibly. “I know, I know. But seriously, Y/N, you need to be careful. If your dad finds out-”

“He won’t,” you say confidently. “Trust me, I’ve got this under control. Carlos doesn’t suspect a thing.”

Carlos has to stifle a snort at that. If only you knew.

“Speaking of control,” Logan’s voice turns playful, “when are you going to get that under control and come visit me? It’s not the same without my number one fan cheering me on.”

There’s a pause, and Carlos can almost picture the soft smile he imagines is on your face. “Soon, I promise. Things are just ... complicated right now. With Dad, and the team, and ... everything.”

“Y/N,” Logan’s voice softens. “You know you don’t have to stay there for me, right? I’m okay. Really.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to. For you, for the team ... for myself.”

Carlos feels a pang in his chest at the emotion in your voice. He’s starting to realize there’s a lot more going on here than he initially thought.

“Well,” Logan says after a moment, “whenever you’re ready, there’s always a place for you here. The house is all set up, and I know a great little taco place that-”

“Logan Sargeant,” you interrupt with a laugh. “Are you trying to bribe me with tacos?”

“Is it working?”

“... maybe a little.”

Carlos finds himself smiling despite the situation. The easy banter between you and Logan reminds him of conversations with his own close friends.

“Seriously though,” Logan continues, “how are you holding up? Really?”

There’s a long pause before you answer. “I’m ... okay. It’s strange, you know? Everything’s the same, but different. The garage doesn’t feel right without you there.”

“Y/N ...”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I just ... I miss my best friend.”

The raw honesty in your voice makes Carlos feel like he’s intruding on something deeply personal. He knows he should walk away, but he can’t seem to make his feet move.

Logan clears his throat. “I miss you too. More than you know. But hey, we’re making it work, right? Long-distance at its finest.”

You laugh, but it sounds a bit watery to Carlos’ ears. “Right. Absolutely killing it.”

“Speaking of killing it,” Logan says, his tone turning serious. “Y/N, about this whole revenge thing ...”

“Logan, don’t start-”

“No, listen to me. I get it, okay? I do. You’re angry and hurt, and you want someone to blame. But Carlos ... he’s just doing his job. He didn’t ask for any of this.”

Carlos finds himself holding his breath, waiting for your response.

“I know that,” you say softly. “Logically, I know that. But when I see him in the garage, in your driver’s room, talking to your engineers ... it just hurts. And I don’t know how else to deal with it.”

“By talking to me,” Logan says gently. “By letting yourself feel it instead of bottling it up and taking it out on some poor, unsuspecting Spaniard.”

You snort. “Poor? Have you seen him? Nothing poor about that man.”

“Y/N,” Logan’s voice carries a warning tone, but there’s amusement there too. “Focus.”

“Right, right. No objectifying the enemy. Got it.”

Carlos feels his cheeks heat up at your words. He shakes his head, trying to refocus on the conversation.

“Look,” Logan continues, “all I’m saying is ... maybe give the guy a chance? Who knows, you might even like him if you stop trying to make his life miserable.”

There’s a long pause, and Carlos finds himself leaning even closer to the door, desperate to hear your response.

“I ... I’ll think about it,” you finally say. “But no promises. Well, except the pinky one. That still stands.”

Logan groans. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm,” you reply cheekily.

As the conversation drifts to lighter topics, Carlos slowly backs away from the door, his mind reeling from everything he’s heard. He makes his way back to his own room in a daze, collapsing onto the bed as soon as he’s inside.

Carlos stares up at the ceiling, trying to process it all. You’re not just messing with him for fun — this is about loyalty, about friendship, about dealing with a loss. He thinks back to all your interactions, seeing them in a new light now.

Part of him wants to be angry. After all, you’ve been deliberately sabotaging him, making his transition to the team more difficult than it needed to be. But another part ... another part understands. He thinks about how he felt when he was in Logan’s position, when he had been dropped from his dream team and replaced. Wouldn’t he have wanted a friend like you in his corner?

Carlos sits up, running a hand through his hair as he comes to a decision. He can’t pretend he didn’t hear what he heard. But he also can’t confront you directly — that would only make things worse. No, he needs to be smarter about this.

A slow smile spreads across his face as an idea forms. If you want to play games, he’ll play. But he’ll play by his own rules.

As he starts to plan, Carlos can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in his stomach. This season is shaping up to be far more interesting than he ever could have imagined. And if he’s being honest with himself, he’s looking forward to every moment of it.

***

Carlos strides into the Williams motorhome, a determined gleam in his eye. It’s been two weeks since he overheard your conversation with Logan, and he’s been on a mission ever since. Operation Charm Y/N is in full swing, and Carlos is pulling out all the stops.

As he enters the main area, he spots you chatting with one of the engineers. Your eyes flick towards him, and he flashes his most dazzling smile.

“Buenos días, Y/N!” He calls out cheerfully. “You’re looking radiant as always. Is that a new hairstyle?”

You blink, clearly caught off guard by his enthusiasm. “Uh, no? It’s the same as always.”

He chuckles, stepping closer. “Well, it must be the lighting then. It makes your eyes sparkle beautifully.”

A faint blush creeps across your cheeks, and Carlos feels a surge of triumph. Progress.

“Right,” you say slowly. “Thanks, I guess. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your interviews?”

Carlos waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, there’s always time for a chat with my favorite team member. How are you finding the track so far? I’d love to hear your thoughts.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “Since when do you care about my thoughts on the track?”

“Since always!” Carlos exclaims, feigning hurt. “Your insights are invaluable, Y/N. I hang on your every word.”

You snort, but Carlos doesn’t miss the way the corners of your mouth twitch upwards. “Now I know you’re full of it, Sainz. What’s your game here?”

Carlos puts on his most innocent expression. “Game? There’s no game. Can’t a guy just appreciate his talented and beautiful colleague?”

Your eyes widen slightly at the compliment, and for a moment, Carlos thinks he might have pushed too far. But then you shake your head, a reluctant smile forming.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but there’s no real heat in your words.

As you turn to walk away, Carlos notices your gaze lingering on the water bottle in his hand. It’s just for a split second, but it’s enough to raise his suspicions. He glances down at the bottle, wondering if you’ve tampered with it somehow.

Determined not to let on that he’s onto you, Carlos keeps up his charm offensive throughout the day. During interviews, he makes sure to mention how wonderful the entire Williams team is, singling you out for special praise whenever he can.

“Oh yes, Y/N Vowles is an absolute gem,” he tells one reporter with a wink. “The heart and soul of Williams, if you ask me. We’re lucky to have her.”

From across the room, he sees you stiffen at his words, a mix of confusion and guilt flashing across your face.

As the day wears on, Carlos notices you becoming increasingly agitated. Your eyes keep darting to his water bottle, and you seem to flinch every time he reaches for it. He makes a show of almost drinking from it several times, watching your reaction carefully.

Finally, during a brief break between interviews, Carlos decides to force the issue. He picks up the bottle, slowly bringing the straw to his lips while maintaining eye contact with you.

Your eyes widen in panic. “Carlos, wait!”

Before he can react, you’re across the room, knocking the bottle out of his hands. It clatters to the floor, spilling water everywhere.

“I ... I’m so sorry,” you stammer, your face flushed with embarrassment. “I just ... I saw a bee! It was about to land on your bottle. Wouldn’t want you to get stung, you know? Allergies and all that.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “A bee? Inside the motorhome?”

“Yes!” You exclaim, a bit too enthusiastically. “Must have snuck in somehow. Crafty little things, bees. Anyway, I should go ... get a mop. For the water. Sorry again!”

With that, you turn and practically run from the room, leaving Carlos staring after you in bemusement.

“Well,” he murmurs to himself, “that was certainly interesting.”

As the day winds down, Carlos finds himself lost in thought. Your reaction to the water bottle incident was telling, but he can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. He had hoped his charm offensive might have started to break through your defenses.

Sighing, he gathers his things and heads for the exit. As he approaches the door, he hears a rustling sound coming from around the corner. Curiosity piqued, he peeks around the edge of the motorhome.

There you are, glancing furtively around as you try to shove something into a nearby trash can. Carlos squints, just barely making out the label on the package you’re attempting to dispose of.

Laxatives.

He has to stifle a laugh. So that was your plan. It’s juvenile, sure, but he has to admire your commitment to the bit.

Deciding to seize the moment, Carlos steps out from his hiding spot. “Fancy meeting you here. Doing a bit of spring cleaning?”

You jump, nearly dropping the package. “Carlos! I ... this isn’t what it looks like.”

He steps closer, his voice gentle. “No? Because it looks like you’re trying to get rid of evidence.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat. “I ... I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was stupid and childish and-”

“And exactly the kind of thing I would have done in your position,” Carlos interrupts, surprising both you and himself with his honesty.

You look up at him, confusion written across your face. “What?”

Carlos sighs, leaning against the wall of the motorhome. “Look, Y/N. I know about the promise you made to Logan. I ... may have overheard a conversation you had with him a couple of weeks ago.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “You ... you were eavesdropping?”

“Not intentionally,” he says quickly. “But yes, I heard enough to understand why you’ve been ... let’s say, less than welcoming.”

You cross your arms, a defensive posture. “So what, you’ve been playing nice to try and manipulate me? To get me to stop?”

Carlos shakes his head. “No, not manipulate. I just ... I wanted to show you that I’m not the enemy here. That maybe we could be friends, or at least friendly colleagues.”

There’s a long pause as you process his words. Finally, you speak, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can do that, Carlos. Logan, he’s ... he’s my best friend. And seeing you here, in his place ...”

“I understand,” Carlos says softly. “Really, I do. But Y/N, don’t you think Logan would want you to be happy? To enjoy your work, to make new friends?”

You bite your lip, considering. “Maybe. But the promise ...”

Carlos can’t help but chuckle. “Ah yes, the sacred pinky promise. Well, how about this — instead of making my life a living hell, why don’t you promise to make it ... interesting?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Interesting how?”

“Challenge me,” Carlos suggests, warming to the idea. “Push me to be better, on and off the track. Keep me on my toes. But maybe without the laxatives, sí?”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “I suppose that could work. But don’t think this means I’m going to go easy on you, Sainz.”

Carlos grins, holding out his hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Vowles. Do we have a deal?”

You eye his hand warily for a moment before reaching out to shake it. “Deal. But I’m warning you, I can be a real pain in the ass when I want to be.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Carlos laughs. “Now, what do you say we get rid of this evidence properly and grab a coffee? I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about.”

As you both head towards the nearest café, Carlos can’t help but feel a sense of excitement. He may have won this battle, but he has a feeling the war is far from over. And honestly? He wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

Carlos pushes open the door of the quaint coffee shop, holding it for you as you follow him inside. The rich aroma of freshly ground beans fills the air, and the soft chatter of other patrons creates a cozy atmosphere.

As you both approach the counter, Carlos gestures towards the menu board. “Order whatever you like. It’s on me.”

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of your usual mischief returning to your eyes. “Oh? And what makes you think I can’t pay for my own coffee?”

Carlos grins, enjoying this glimpse of your feisty side. “Consider it a peace offering. Or reparations for all the grey hairs you’ve given me these past few months.”

You snort, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Fine. But don’t think this means you’re off the hook.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Carlos chuckles.

After placing your orders — a latte for you and an americano for Carlos — you both find a secluded table near the back of the shop. As you settle into your seats, an awkward silence falls between you.

Carlos takes a sip of his coffee, studying you over the rim of his cup. Now that he’s finally got you alone, without the pretenses and the pranks, he’s not quite sure where to start.

You break the silence first, your voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “So ... you said you overheard my conversation with Logan?”

Carlos nods, setting his cup down. “Sí. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but ... well, I heard enough to understand why you’ve been, shall we say, less than welcoming.”

You wince slightly. “Yeah, about that ... I may have gone a bit overboard.”

“A bit?” Carlos raises an eyebrow, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Y/N, you tried to give me laxatives.”

You have the grace to look embarrassed, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. “Okay, more than a bit. I’m sorry, Carlos. Really.”

He waves off your apology. “Water under the bridge. Or should I say, laxatives down the drain?”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” Carlos grins. Then, his expression softens. “But in all seriousness, Y/N ... I get it. I do. Logan is your friend, and seeing me here instead of him ... it can’t be easy.”

You look up, meeting his gaze. There’s a vulnerability in your eyes that Carlos hasn’t seen before. “It’s not just that. I mean, yes, I miss Logan terribly. But it’s also ... this team, it’s like family to me. And seeing someone new come in, someone who didn’t grow up with all of us ... I guess I felt threatened.”

Carlos leans forward, his elbows on the table. “Can I ask you something?”

You nod, wrapping your hands around your coffee cup as if seeking comfort from its warmth.

“Why the elaborate schemes?” Carlos asks. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, they were ... creative. But why not just tell me how you felt?”

You let out a long sigh, your fingers tracing patterns on the side of your cup. “Honestly? I’m not entirely sure. I guess ... growing up in this world, you learn to play games. To never show your true feelings because they might be used against you.”

Carlos tilts his head, intrigued. “What do you mean, growing up in this world?”

A wry smile crosses your face. “Carlos, my dad is James Vowles. I practically grew up in the Mercedes garage during the Brocedes era. You think I didn’t pick up a few things watching Lewis and Nico go at it?”

Carlos’ eyes widen in realization. “The mind games.”

You nod. “Exactly. I saw firsthand how effective they could be. How a well-placed comment or a seemingly innocent action could throw someone completely off their game. I guess ... I guess part of me thought that if I could do the same to you, maybe ...”

“Maybe I’d leave?” Carlos finishes softly.

You look down, guilt written across your face. “Maybe. Or at least ... I don’t know. Maybe I thought if I could prove you weren’t up to the challenge, Dad would reconsider his decision.”

Carlos reaches across the table, gently placing his hand over yours. “Y/N, look at me.”

Reluctantly, you raise your eyes to meet his.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says firmly. “Not unless the team decides I’m not good enough. And if that happens, it’ll be because of my performance on the track, not because of any mind games.”

You nod slowly, a small smile forming. “I know that now. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad. You’re ... you’re good for the team. I can see that now.”

Carlos feels a warmth spread through his chest at your words. “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

You pull your hand away, but the smile remains. “Don’t let it go to your head, Sainz. I still think Logan’s better.”

“You know,” Carlos draws out, “I’m glad we did this. Cleared the air.”

You nod, your expression turning serious. “Me too. And Carlos ... I really am sorry for all the trouble I caused. It wasn’t fair to you.”

Carlos shrugs. “Like I said, water under the bridge. Or should I say, hair products in the bin?”

Your jaw drops. “How did you know about that?”

He winks. “I didn’t. But thanks for confirming my suspicions.”

You groan, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?”

“Oh, hermosa,” Carlos grins, “you have no idea.”

***

Carlos stands in front of your hotel room door, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. In one hand, he clutches a bouquet of flowers so large it partially obscures his vision. In the other, he holds the key card you had given him just a few days ago, a symbol of the trust that has grown between you.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he’s about to do. Over the past few months, your relationship has evolved from antagonistic to friendly to ... something more. Carlos can no longer deny the feelings that have been growing inside him. Tonight, he’s finally gathered the courage to ask you out on a proper date.

With one final steadying breath, he raises his hand and knocks on the door. “Y/N? Are you there?”

Silence greets him. He waits a moment, then knocks again, louder this time. “Y/N? It’s Carlos. I was hoping we could talk.”

Still no answer. Carlos frowns, a tendril of worry creeping into his mind. It’s not like you to ignore him, especially not after the closeness you’ve developed.

“Maybe she’s in the shower,” he mutters to himself, trying to quell his rising anxiety.

He debates waiting, but something urges him to check on you. After all, you did give him the key card for emergencies. This isn’t exactly an emergency, but ...

Before he can talk himself out of it, Carlos swipes the card and pushes the door open. “Y/N? I’m sorry for barging in, but I was worried when you didn’t ...”

His voice trails off as he takes in the scene before him. The flowers fall from his suddenly numb fingers, scattering across the floor.

There you are, on the bed, but you’re not alone. Carlos’ predecessor at Williams is there with you. The two of you are tangled together in a way that leaves little doubt about the nature of your relationship.

For a moment, time seems to stand still. Carlos blinks rapidly, his brain struggling to process what he’s seeing. You and Logan stare back at him, equally frozen in shock.

Logan recovers first, quickly pulling away from you and tugging a sheet over himself. “Carlos! What the hell, man?”

You sit up, clutching a pillow to your chest, your face a mix of embarrassment and guilt. “Carlos, I ... we can explain.”

Carlos opens his mouth, then closes it again. A thousand thoughts race through his mind, but the one that finally makes it to his lips surprises even him.

“Can I join?”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implications. Carlos immediately wants to take them back, to pretend he never said them. But a small part of him, the part that’s been drawn to both you and Logan in ways he’s never fully understood, holds its breath in anticipation.

Your eyes widen in shock. “What?”

Logan looks between you and Carlos, his expression unreadable. “Dude, are you serious?”

Carlos runs a hand through his hair, his cheeks burning. “I ... I don’t know. Maybe? I mean, I came here to ask Y/N out, but seeing you both ... I can’t deny there’s something there.”

You exchange a look with Logan, having one of those silent conversations that only people who know each other intimately can have. After a moment, you turn back to Carlos.

“Carlos,” you say gently, “I think we all need to take a step back and talk about this. Properly. When we’re all ... dressed.”

Carlos nods, feeling slightly dazed. “Right. Yes. Of course. I’ll just ... I’ll wait outside.”

He turns to leave, but Logan’s voice stops him. “Wait. Carlos, man ... I’m sorry. We should have told you.”

Carlos looks back, meeting Logan’s gaze. There’s genuine regret in the American’s eyes, and Carlos feels some of his hurt and confusion start to dissipate.

“It’s okay,” he says, surprised to find he means it. “We all have our secrets, no?”

You slide off the bed, wrapping yourself in the hotel robe. “Carlos, please don’t go. Stay. We should talk about this.”

Carlos hesitates, his hand on the doorknob. Part of him wants to run, to pretend this never happened. But a larger part, the part that’s grown to care deeply for both you and Logan, makes him turn back.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Let’s talk.”

You gesture to the small sitting area in the corner of the room. “Why don’t you sit down? Logan and I will get dressed, and then we can figure this out together.”

Carlos nods, moving to the armchair as you and Logan disappear into the bathroom. He sits there, staring at the scattered flowers on the floor, trying to make sense of his swirling emotions.

A few minutes later, you both emerge, fully dressed but with an air of awkwardness that wasn’t there before. Logan takes a seat on the small sofa, while you perch on the arm, creating a triangle between the three of you.

“So,” you begin, your voice tentative. “I guess we have a lot to talk about.”

Carlos nods, his eyes moving between you and Logan. “How long has this been going on?”

Logan clears his throat. “A while. Since right before I left Williams, actually. We just ... we didn’t know how to tell anyone.”

“I see,” Carlos says, a hint of hurt creeping into his voice. “And all those times you were talking about missing each other ...”

You reach out, as if to touch Carlos’ hand, but stop yourself. “That was real. We do miss each other. But it’s ... complicated.”

“Complicated,” Carlos repeats. “Is that why you were so hostile towards me at first? Because I was taking Logan’s place in more ways than one?”

You wince at his words. “Partly, yes. But Carlos, you have to understand, it wasn’t just about that. I really did feel protective of the team, of Logan’s place there.”

Logan puts a hand on your arm, a gesture of support. “Y/N, it’s okay. He deserves the truth.”

You take a deep breath, looking Carlos directly in the eye. “The truth is, Carlos, I started developing feelings for you too. And that ... that scared me. I felt guilty, like I was betraying Logan. So I lashed out.”

Carlos’ breath catches in his throat. “You have feelings for me?”

You nod, a small smile playing at your lips. “Why do you think I gave you that key card?”

Logan chuckles softly. “I told her she was being too subtle. Should have just asked you out like a normal person.”

Carlos looks at Logan, curiosity overriding his confusion. “And you’re ... okay with this?”

Logan shrugs, a wry smile on his face. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I know how Y/N feels about you, and ... well, I can’t say I haven’t noticed you myself.”

Carlos feels his cheeks heat up at Logan’s words. “I ... I don’t know what to say.”

You slide off the arm of the sofa, kneeling in front of Carlos. “You don’t have to say anything right now. We sprung this on you, and it’s a lot to process. But Carlos, I want you to know that what I feel for you is real. And if you’re open to it ... maybe we can figure this out. All of us.”

Carlos looks between you and Logan, his mind racing. This isn’t at all how he expected this evening to go, but he can’t deny the thrill that runs through him at the possibility.

“I think,” he says slowly, “that I’d like that. To figure it out together, I mean.”

Logan grins, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Well, in that case, maybe we should start with dinner? I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving.”

You laugh, the sound breaking the remaining tension in the room. “Trust you to think with your stomach.”

Carlos finds himself smiling too. “Dinner sounds good. But maybe ... maybe we could stay in? Order room service?”

You and Logan exchange a look, then nod in unison. “Sounds perfect,” you say, squeezing Carlos’ hand.

As Logan reaches for the room service menu, and you start picking up the scattered flowers, arranging them in a water glass, Carlos feels a sense of rightness settle over him. This isn’t at all what he had planned, but somehow, it feels like exactly where he’s meant to be.

“Hey,” he says, catching both your attention. “Whatever happens ... I’m glad we’re figuring this out together.”

You and Logan smile back at him, and in that moment, Carlos knows that no matter how complicated things might get, you’re going to be okay. More than okay, actually. You’re going to be amazing.

***

The Williams garage buzzes with pre-race energy, mechanics scurrying about and engineers huddled over last-minute data. In their own bubble despite the controlled chaos, three figures stand slightly apart, heads bent close in hushed conversation.

Carlos glances around before leaning in closer to you and Logan. “Are we sure about this? It’s not too late to change our minds.”

You bite your lip, uncertainty clouding your features. “I don’t know. Maybe we should stick to the original plan. Logan’s just here as a friend, nothing more.”

Logan runs a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed. “It feels wrong, though. Hiding. Like we’re ashamed or something.”

“We’re not ashamed,” Carlos says quickly, his hand finding Logan’s and squeezing it reassuringly. “It’s just ... complicated.”

You nod, your eyes darting to where your father stands across the garage. “Dad’s going to freak out. And that’s putting it mildly.”

Logan follows your gaze, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “To be fair, I think he’d freak out no matter how we told him. Finding out your daughter is dating not one, but two drivers? That’s a lot for any father to handle.”

Carlos chuckles softly. “Not to mention one of those drivers is his current employee and the other is his former one. It’s like a telenovela.”

You swat his arm playfully. “This isn’t funny. We need to decide what we’re doing. The race starts in less than an hour.”

Logan takes a deep breath, his expression turning serious. “Look, whatever we decide, we’re in this together, right? All of us?”

You and Carlos nod in unison, and for a moment, the three of you just look at each other, drawing strength from your connection.

The moment is broken by the sharp voice of Carlos’ race engineer. “Carlos! We need you for final checks. Now!”

Carlos sighs, reluctantly pulling away from you and Logan. “I guess decision time is here, whether we’re ready or not.”

You reach out, straightening his race suit collar. “Just focus on the race, okay? We can figure everything else out later.”

Logan nods in agreement. “Yeah. Go out there and show them what you’ve got. We’ll be right here cheering you on.”

Carlos looks between the two of you, his eyes softening with emotion. “What did I do to deserve you both?”

Before you or Logan can respond, Carlos makes a split-second decision. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he pulls you close and kisses you deeply, right there in the middle of the garage.

You gasp against his lips, too shocked to pull away. Around you, the activity of the garage comes to a sudden halt, all eyes turning to witness the unexpected display.

But Carlos isn’t done. As he pulls back from you, he immediately turns to Logan, cupping the American’s face in his hands and kissing him with equal passion.

The garage, already silent, seems to hold its collective breath. You can practically hear the gears turning in everyone’s minds as they try to process what they’re seeing.

As Carlos finally steps back, a satisfied smirk on his face, the spell of silence is broken by a loud thud. All heads turn to see their team principal sprawled on the floor in a dead faint.

“Dad!” You cry out, rushing to his side.

Logan and Carlos exchange a panicked look before following you. As you kneel beside your unconscious father, the rest of the team seems to unfreeze, a flurry of whispers and movement erupting around you.

“Someone get the medic!” A voice calls out.

“Did ... did I just see what I think I saw?” Another mechanic mutters.

Logan kneels down next to you, concern etched on his face. “Is he okay?”

You nod, relief washing over you as your father starts to stir. “I think so. Just shocked, I guess.”

Carlos hovers nearby, looking both guilty and defiant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause such a scene. I just ... I couldn’t stand the thought of hiding anymore.”

As James’ eyes flutter open, his gaze immediately locks onto the three of you. “Y/N? Logan? Carlos? What ... what’s going on?”

You take a deep breath, helping your father sit up. “We need to talk. But maybe not right here in the middle of the garage floor?”

James nods weakly, allowing Logan and Carlos to help him to his feet. As they guide him to a nearby chair, you can’t help but notice the mixture of confusion, shock, and curiosity on the faces of your coworkers.

Once your father is settled, he looks between the three of you, his expression a mix of bewilderment and dawning comprehension. “So, when you said Logan was coming to visit for the weekend ...”

You nod, taking both Carlos and Logan’s hands in your own. “It wasn’t just as a friend. The three of us ... we’re together. All of us.”

James blinks rapidly, as if trying to clear his vision. “Together? As in ...”

“As in dating,” Logan says, his voice steady despite the nervousness evident in his posture. “All three of us. We’ve been in a relationship for a few months now.”

Carlos nods, squeezing your hand. “We didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I got ... carried away. But we’re not ashamed of our relationship, and we don’t want to hide it anymore.”

James leans back in his chair, running a hand over his face. “I ... I don’t even know where to begin. Y/N, honey, are you sure about this?”

You meet your father’s gaze, your voice firm. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Dad. I love them both. And they love me ... and each other.”

The garage around you is still unnaturally quiet, everyone straining to hear the conversation. You can practically feel the weight of their stares, but in this moment, all that matters is your father’s reaction.

James takes a deep breath, his eyes moving between the three of you. “This is ... a lot to process. But Y/N, if you’re happy ...”

You nod, a smile breaking across your face. “I am. We all are.”

James sighs, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I suppose I should be grateful. At least I don’t have to worry about you dating some playboy from another team.”

Logan chuckles softly. “No, just an IndyCar driver and your star employee.”

The tension in the air starts to dissipate as James shakes his head, a reluctant smile forming. “I have a feeling my life just got a whole lot more complicated.”

You lean down to hug your father tightly. “Thank you for understanding.”

As you straighten up, Carlos’ race engineer clears his throat loudly. “I hate to break up this ... touching moment, but we have a race to drive. Carlos, car. Now.”

Reality comes crashing back as you realize the race is mere minutes from starting. Carlos looks torn, clearly not wanting to leave in the middle of this pivotal moment.

You give him a gentle push towards his car. “Go. We’ll be right here when you finish.”

Logan nods in agreement. “Yeah, babe. Go show them what you’ve got.”

Carlos hesitates for just a moment before a determined look settles over his features. He leans in, placing a quick kiss on your cheek and another on Logan’s before turning to your father.

“James,” he says seriously. “I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make Y/N happy and to make this team proud.”

James nods, still looking slightly dazed. “Just ... just drive safe out there.”

As Carlos jogs towards his car, the garage seems to come back to life. Mechanics resume their tasks, albeit with frequent glances and whispers in your direction. You, Logan, and your father are left in a small bubble of calm amid the renewed chaos.

Logan clears his throat. “So ... I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting you. “You could say that. I think we just gave the entire paddock enough gossip to last the rest of the season.”

James shakes his head, a mix of exasperation and amusement on his face. “You three certainly know how to make an announcement. I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t decide to share the news during a press conference.”

As the sound of engines roaring to life fills the air, you find yourself filled with a sense of lightness. The secret’s out, for better or worse, and now you can face whatever comes next together.

Logan puts an arm around your shoulders, and you lean into him, watching as Carlos’ car pulls out of the garage. “Well,” Logan says with a grin, “I guess there’s only one thing left to do now.”

You look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

He winks, guiding you towards the spectator area. “Cheer our boy on, of course.”

***

Four Years Later

The late afternoon sun streams through the windows of the spacious living room, warming over the three occupants. You’re nestled comfortably on the couch, your hands resting on your swollen belly, a contented smile playing on your lips as you watch your two partners bicker good-naturedly.

Carlos paces back and forth, running his hands through his hair in mock distress. “I just can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. Our child, our beautiful baby, will be one-third American!”

Logan, sprawled in an armchair, grins widely. “And what’s wrong with that? Afraid our kid might actually develop some taste?”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Boys, please. The baby can hear you, you know.”

Carlos stops his pacing, turning to you with wide eyes. “Exactly! We need to counteract this American influence immediately. Quick, where’s that Spanish lullaby CD my mother sent?”

Logan snorts. “Oh please, like that’ll do any good against the power of apple pie and freedom.”

“Apple pie?” Carlos scoffs. “Please. Our child will have a sophisticated palate. Paella, gazpacho, tortilla española-”

“Burgers, hot dogs, s’mores,” Logan counters, ticking off on his fingers.

You can’t help but laugh at their antics. “You do realize the baby will be more British than anything else, right? Given that I’m the one actually carrying it?”

Both men turn to look at you, identical expressions of horror on their faces.

“Dios mío,” Carlos whispers. “I didn’t even think of that.”

Logan nods solemnly. “We’re doomed. Our child is going to have terrible teeth and an unhealthy obsession with beans on toast.”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches easily, laughing. “Watch it, Sargeant. This Brit is the mother of your child.”

Carlos flops down on the couch next to you, placing a gentle hand on your belly. “Don’t worry, mi amor. We’ll make sure our little one has the best of all worlds. The passion of Spain, the ... whatever it is Americans have-”

“Awesomeness,” Logan interjects.

“-and the ... charm of Britain,” Carlos finishes, winking at you.

You lean in to kiss him softly. “Nice save.”

Logan gets up from his chair, moving to sit on your other side. He places his hand next to Carlos’ on your belly. “Hey, little one. Don’t listen to your papa. He’s just jealous because he knows you’re going to prefer peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to croquetas.”

Carlos gasps in mock outrage. “Take that back!”

You groan, leaning back against the couch. “Oh god, is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of our lives?”

Both men turn to you with identical grins. “Absolutely,” they say in unison.

Despite your exasperated tone, you can’t help but smile. This is your family, quirks and all, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Suddenly, you feel a strong kick under your partners’ hands. Their eyes widen in surprise and delight.

“Did you feel that?” Logan asks excitedly.

Carlos nods, his eyes shining. “Sí, it was so strong! Our little footballer in the making.”

“You mean soccer player,” Logan adds with a smirk.

Carlos groans. “Por favor, not this again. It’s football, Logan. The rest of the world calls it football.”

“Yeah, well, the rest of the world is wrong,” Logan retorts, sticking out his tongue.

You shake your head, amused. “I swear, sometimes it’s like I have two children already.”

Both men have the grace to look slightly sheepish, but their hands remain on your belly, waiting for another kick.

“You know,” you say thoughtfully, “we still haven’t decided on a name.”

Carlos perks up. “I’ve been thinking about that! What about Carlos III for a boy?”

Logan wrinkles his nose. “Because the current two of you aren’t enough? What about something cool, like Maverick?”

“Maverick?” Carlos repeats incredulously. “What is this, Top Gun?”

“Hey, Top Gun is a classic!” Logan defends.

You clear your throat. “Gentlemen, might I remind you that I get veto power on all names?”

They both turn to you, curious. “What did you have in mind, babe?” Logan asks.

You smile mysteriously. “Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m not sharing until you two can agree on at least one name together.”

Carlos and Logan exchange a look, a silent challenge passing between them.

“Fine,” Carlos says. “How about ... James? It’s a name that works in all our cultures, and it would be a nice nod to your father, Y/N.”

Logan nods slowly. “James ... I like it. Simple, classic. And we could call him Jamie for short.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest. “James is perfect. Dad will be over the moon.”

“James it is then,” Carlos says with a soft smile. “For a boy, at least. What if it’s a girl?”

Logan’s eyes light up. “Oh! What about Liberty? You know, because-”

“Absolutely not,” you and Carlos say in unison.

Logan pouts. “You guys are no fun.”

Carlos chuckles, reaching across you to ruffle Logan’s hair. “Come on, querido. Surely you can think of something better than that.”

Logan leans into the touch, a thoughtful expression on his face. “How about ... Sophia? It’s pretty, and it works in all our languages.”

You nod approvingly. “Sophia is lovely. What do you think, Carlos?”

Carlos smiles. “Sophia is beautiful. Sophia Sainz-Sargeant-Vowles. It has a nice ring to it, no?”

“It’s a mouthful is what it is,” Logan chuckles. “But I love it.”

You feel another kick, stronger this time. “I think the baby approves too.”

Carlos leans down to speak directly to your belly. “Hello there, little one. Are you a James or a Sophia?”

Logan joins in, his voice taking on an exaggerated American accent. “Now listen here, kiddo. Whatever you are, just remember: you’ve got red, white, and blue running through your veins. USA! USA!”

Carlos groans, burying his face in your shoulder. “Dios mío, what have I gotten myself into?”

You laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “A lifetime of this, darling.”

As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the room, you find yourself filled with an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. This unconventional family of yours, with its mix of cultures and personalities, is everything you never knew you needed.

“Hey,” you say softly, drawing both men’s attention. “I love you both. So much. And this baby is going to be so loved, no matter what nationality they end up identifying with.”

Carlos and Logan’s faces soften, all traces of their playful argument disappearing.

“We love you too,” Carlos murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Logan nods, squeezing your hand. “More than anything. All three of you.”

As you sit there, sandwiched between the two men you love, their hands protectively cradling your unborn child, you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together. Spanish passion, American spirit, and British charm — your child will have the best of all worlds, and a family full of love to support them every step of the way.

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urmum-lovesme · 16 days ago

Text

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P12

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: I lowkey hate this ngl but Anyways!!!! The big day of the court hearing has finally arrived and I can't help but stir the pot. Also I'm imagining Hale as a total girl boss (if you get my vision). Baby Rafe and Y/n are so cute I'm dying. Sorry for taking so long with this chapter I'm a little in a writing stump but I'm getting there :)

warnings: references to s/a and non-con, emotional turmoil, inaccurate court proceedings (don't kill me im just a girl with a dream), Cooper (he deserves a warning), mentions of intoxication and alcohol.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N sat near the tall window, staring out at the sky, now a deep orange, the rising sun peeking over the waters surrounding the Cameron’s dock. Her fingers anxiously worked at the buttons on the white material of her Chanel blazer. The polished luxury of it didn’t match how she felt- exposed. The world outside was still, but inside the office, the pressure pressed down on her chest. Across the room, Rafe adjusted the cuffs of his shirt for the third time, pulling at the stiff collar of his tailored suit. His tie was perfectly knotted, yet he kept tugging at it, like it was choking him. He didn’t speak, but his restless energy filled the space.

Their lawyer, Charlotte Hale, stood near the fireplace, flipping through a stack of papers in a leather folder. She was a powerhouse- a well-known defense attorney with a reputation for being ruthless in the courtroom. Years of high-profile cases in North Carolina had made her reputation the best in the state- Ward had pulled strings to get her on this case, knowing they needed someone unshakable in court, relentless with opposition. She shut the folder with a soft snap and looked up at the two teens in front of her.

“Alright. We’ve been over this.” Her voice was smooth but firm. “Rafe, you stay focused. No outbursts, no attitude. You explain why you did what you did and let me handle the rest. Y/N, they’re going to come at you and try to make you doubt yourself or twist your words. Don’t let them do that.”

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck as he let out a breath, “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Y/N nodded slowly, but her stomach twisted. Hale's eyes narrowed slightly, reading the tension between them.

“The prosecution’s going to lean on Cooper’s clean record. I know this isn’t easy, but remember, we’re prepared. You’re telling the truth, and the evidence supports you.”

But will they believe it?

The room felt heavier as Hale checked her watch. “I’m going to head out and make sure the car’s ready. I’ll meet you both outside.”

Her heels clicked against the floor as she left, leaving a thick silence in her wake. Y/N shifted, smoothing her skirt down for the seventh time in the past hour. She stared down at her hands, picking at a loose thread on her blazer. Rafe finally moved, walking over to stand beside her.

“Hey.”

She barely turned to look at him.

“You good?” His voice was lower now, softer and her breath caught for a second.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

That’s a lie

Rafe hesitated before reaching out, his hand brushing lightly against her arm.

She flinched.

It was small, barely noticeable, but he felt it. His hand froze, and his expression tightened, pulling back slightly. He felt guilty everytime he touched her, forgetting about her reaction, he never seemed to remember that things between them still weren’t completely the same as they used to be.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, voice rough.

Y/N swallowed hard. “No, it’s… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.” Rafe’s tone was careful now, more guarded.

Y/N stared down at her hands, fingers tangled in the loose thread of her blazer. Her chest felt tight, every breath shallow and uneven, Rafe shifted beside her, his movements uncertain.

“Jesus, Rafe…” her voice cracked, barely holding together. “I’m so scared.”

Rafe’s breath caught in his throat. Without thinking, he crouched down in front of her, lowering himself to her level. His suit creased as he balanced on the balls of his feet, close but not too close. Carefully, he placed a hand on her knee- a gentle, grounding touch. Y/N looked at the boy's hand, and after a moment, she laid her own over his, her grip tight.

Rafe didn’t move but heart tightened, seeing the fear etched on her face, even if she denied it. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on both of them, but he didn’t want her to feel like she was facing it alone. He moved a little closer, keeping his voice calm, but strong.

“It’s okay, yeah? I’m gonna be sitting right next to you the whole time you’re not going to be alone in there.”

Her breath was shaky, but she looked at him, trying to hold herself together. “What if… what if I can’t handle it?” she whispered, her gaze falling to her lap. Rafe’s hand tightened slightly on hers, not enough to hurt but enough to let her know he was there,

“If it gets too much, you just tell me,” he said, his voice steady.

“We’ll step out. We can take a break, catch our breath. Whatever you need, I’ll be right there.”

Trust me

She looked up at him, a mixture of uncertainty in her eyes. For a moment, neither of them said anything. He could see she was battling with herself- wanting to stay strong but feeling everything inside her unravel.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to go through this by yourself,” he added softly, his words lingering between them,

“We’re doing this together right?”

“Yeah”

“So that means we’ll deal with whatever the outcome is together okay”

Y/N nodded, her throat tight, and though she didn’t have words to respond, the quiet understanding passed between them. Rafe’s hand on hers was the only thing that felt certain at that moment. Rafe stood in front of her, hand outstretched.

“C’mon, princess,”

...

He said, his smile light, Y/N’s hand hovered above his for a split second, before she paused, without a word she pulled her hand back, standing up on her own, and walking past him toward the door of the office. Her movements were stiff, and Rafe couldn’t help but notice the way her shoulders were pulled tight, the way she avoided looking at him. He followed her closely, catching up just as she stopped at the door way.

What was that?

“Are you okay?”

He asked, his brows drawn down slightly in confusion. She didn’t answer immediately, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Can you stop calling me that? ...Please?”

Rafe blinked, caught off guard his tone called out perplexed, “What do you mean? It’s just a nickname, I’ve called you that since we were kids.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The late afternoon sun dipped low over the Outer Banks, casting a soft golden haze across the sprawling Cameron estate, the chatter of adults spilled across the vast yard, the clinking of glasses and laughter occasionally arising. Rafe leaned against the brick wall, half-crushed juice box dangled from his fingers, the sticky liquid dripping onto his polo shirt. His hair was slightly messy from running with the other kids, though now he stood still, watching.

Across the yard, tucked beneath the towering oak tree, Y/N sat alone in the grass. Her pale pink sundress was wrinkled from sitting too long, and a small silver tiara, pink gems embedded in the metal, was tilted awkwardly on her head. She threaded tiny wildflowers into a lopsided flower crown in her hands, lips pressed together in quiet determination, a small frown on her face.

Not far off, a group of slightly older girls huddled together, casting smug glances her way. One of them snickered loud enough to be heard, “She’s such a baby.” They broke into giggles, as they looked at the girl sitting on the floor, flipping their pigtails over their shoulders as they sauntered off toward the pool.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed.

At that moment he decided he didn’t like those girls. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets he stalked across the lawn toward Y/N, his trainers crunched over the dry grass, but she didn’t look up.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice flat but curious.

Y/N barely spared him a glance. “Making a crown.”

Rafe tilted his head. “Why?”

She let out a soft, frustrated sigh. “They said I can’t be a princess. But I can if I want to.”

Her voice wavered just a little, but there was stubbornness in it too, the frown on her brow not easing. Rafe stared at her for a beat, then suddenly reached down and snatched the tiara off her head. She gasped, scrambling to her feet.

“Hey!”

She attempted to grab it from him but he turned away, causing the girl to let out a huff and roll her eyes, stomping back to her spot under the tree plopping down onto the floor. However, instead of throwing it or making fun of her like she expected, Rafe carefully inspected the crooked tiara, looking at the little pink crystals on it, noticing the way it matched the pearly nailpolish on the girl's fingers, which were back to braiding the flowers together. With seriousness, he leaned down and placed it back on her head- straighter this time.

“You’re the princess of Figure Eight, they’re just jealous.”

He said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, Y/N looked up to the boy skeptically,

“You think so?”

Rafe shrugged, glancing over his shoulder toward where the other girls had gone, now sitting by the pool dipping their toes into the water, he grimaced as they giggled annoyingly.

“Yup. So…do you need a knight?”

Her eyes lit up, a smile creeping onto her face. “Are you saying you’re my knight?”

Rafe wrinkled his nose. “No! Gross. I’m just saying… if they mess with you, I’ll throw mud at them or something.”

Y/N giggled, the sound light and free.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Cooper… he called me that when it happened.”

Y/N turned to face him then, her gaze downcast, the words heavy on her lips, and it was like a punch to the boy’s gut, he hadn’t known. Rafe froze, guilt washing over him.

“I didn’t know...”

He reached out, but he didn’t touch her, not wanting to overwhelm her. Y/N didn’t respond at first, her eyes still focused on the ground. Rafe let out a long breath and nodded slowly.

“I won’t call you that again- if uh, that's what you want.”

There was a long silence between them, and Y/N finally lifted her eyes to meet his. She nodded slightly, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. Rafe, not wanting to leave the conversation hanging awkwardly, cracked a small smile.

“Well, if I’m not callin’ you ‘princess,’ I’ll have to find something else to call you, huh?”

His tone was teasing, trying to break the tension. They began walking down the stairs, and Y/N’s fingers brushed against his as she moved down the steps, a small smile on her face as she walked alongside the boy, sending him a nod of agreement. They stood just outside the front doors of Tannyhill, the faint hum of the conversation behind them blending with the low murmur of water in the distance. Two cars were parked on the driveway ahead: their parents were deep in discussion with the lawyer.

Y/N’s eyes flickered between the cars, her fingers brushing over the hem of her blazer straightening it out as she pulled her matching white skirt down slightly. Rafe, standing close beside her, kept his hands by his side, yet he couldn't scratch the itch of wanting to take the girl's hand into his own, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her side. From behind them, a voice broke the silence drawing the boy from his daydream;

“Y/N!”

She turned, startled, Rafe glanced over his shoulder as well, his expression softening ever so slightly when he saw who it was. Wheezie, her dark hair bouncing around her shoulders, jogged toward them. She was holding a small bouquet of wildflowers, clumsily arranged but bright and cheerful nonetheless. She had been persistent on wanting to come to the courthouse with them but Ward refused her presence, the girl had been in a strop ever since, neither of them had seen her much since then. Wheezie came to a stop in front of Y/N. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug.

“Good luck today. You’ve got this.”

Sweet girl

Y/N blinked, momentarily surprised, before she returned the hug with a small smile. “Thanks, Wheeze.”

She pulled back and looked up at her brother. “You too, Rafe don’t mess up”

Rafe scoffed lightly but ruffled her hair. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Wheezie grinned before handing the wildflowers to the older girl. “These are for you. I picked them from the back garden because dad didn’t let me leave the house this morning. I thought you might like them- um well they’re not the best”

Y/N’s heart swelled as she accepted the bouquet. Some of the small daisies sagged from their bent stems, drooping slightly from Wheezie’s strong grip, but Y/N adored the thoughtful gesture.

“They’re perfect,” she said softly, her fingers brushing over the delicate petals.

She’d love her

Rafe watched her quietly, his eyes lingered on the fragile bouquet in Y/N’s hands. Something about the way she held them- careful and soft- stirred something deep in his chest. His mother would often stand barefoot in the garden, snipping wildflowers and humming to herself, weaving them together, leaving little glass jars of blooms around the house, the house always filled with the scent of flowers; roses, daisies, whatever she could find.

He swallowed hard, blinking the image away.

“C’mon,”

He muttered, as he took a few steps away from the front doors, heading toward the cars waiting in the driveway, he paused, turning slightly over his shoulder.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, his voice softer this time. Y/N lingered for a moment, leaning down slightly to press a gentle kiss to Wheezie’s forehead.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice full of warmth. Wheezie’s face lit up with a bright smile. “You’ll be fine don’t worry.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile, squeezing the wilted bouquet a little tighter as she made her way down the steps of the patio. Walking up to the boy she pauses as the sound of the girls voice calls out again;

“You’ve got something hanging out of your pocket!”

Wheezie piped up, eyes narrowing, Y/N paused, brows furrowed in confusion. She reached into the side of her blazer and felt the small, cool chain between her fingers.

She looked down to her hand as she pulled out the delicate gold necklace Rafe had given her long before things between them had spiraled. The dainty heart pendant swung gently at the end of the chain, catching the light from the sun. She turned to Rafe, holding it out between them as she asked softly,

“Will you put it on for me?”

Rafe blinked, caught off guard. His eyes flicked from the necklace to her face, trying to mask his surprise. A slow, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he took the necklace from her hand.

She kept it?

“Of course angel,” he murmured, stepping behind her.

The nickname made her still for a moment.

“Angel?”

She asked quietly, her breath catching slightly as the words passed her lips. Rafe’s fingers worked the clasp with practiced ease, the gold coo against her skin. He hummed in response, the sound low and sure.

“You’re my angel baby now”

Y/N’s hand instinctively rose to the pendant now resting against her skin, she turned slowly to face him, her fingers curling over the small heart as her eyes met his,

“I guess I am.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The white stone walls of the Kildare County Courthouse stood strongly, peering down at the commotion below. Both Kooks and Pogues mingled, a rare sight under normal circumstances, but today wasn’t normal considering the result of the most anticipated case the island was expecting was bound to be decided on today. Y/N stepped out of the car, the chatter washing over her like a wave, people turned to look as she approached the courthouse doors, already propped open with the steady flow of people filtering inside, others standing on their tiptoes to try and sight an empty seat inside. Some faces lit up with small, encouraging smiles as she walked past them towards the daunting . A few quiet, supportive voices broke through the crowd as she passed "Good luck, Y/N” or "You got this." arose from the chatter, she responded with a silent nod or small smile.

But not all eyes were kind.

A few stares lingered too long, their eyes sharp with judgment. Subtle whispers rippled between tight-knit groups as she caught glimpses of people leaning into each other, murmuring things she couldn’t hear- and maybe didn’t want to. Despite the weight of their eyes, Y/N kept her chin high, shoulders squared. She refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

Rafe walked steadily beside her now, having caught up with the girl, his expression unreadable though his presence alone grounded her. Every now and then, his hand would brush lightly against hers in silent reassurance as they ascended the stone steps, to the open courthouse doors ahead, already littered with people, which Rafe had to push by to get through, grumbling under his breath.

Get out of the way Jesus-

Every conversation bouncing off the walls, rows of people filled the benches, the divide between the two sides glaringly obvious. At the front, Topper, Kelce, Sarah, and John B sat close together, talking in hushed tones. Sarah's head snapped up first, her face softening when she saw Y/N.

"Y/N," Sarah was on her feet in an instant, pulling her into a tight hug, "are you okay?" her voice was barely above a whisper, concern heavy in every word. Y/N nodded, though it wasn’t entirely convincing.

"Yeah, just…"

"...let’s get this over with"

Rafe cut in smoothly, his tone firm, finishing her sentence for her, Y/N gave a small nod in agreement, offering Sarah a tight smile before pulling back.

Behind them, leaning casually against the wall, JJ, Kiara, and Pope watched the scene unfold. JJ’s jaw was tense, his arms crossed as his eyes flicked between the groups. Kiara muttered something under her breath, earning a quiet chuckle from Pope as he shook his head. Their glares were sharp, aimed squarely at the people gathered across the aisle on the other side of the hall.

The tension in the room was palpable, like the quiet before a storm.

Y/N's eyes drifted across the courtroom, scanning the faces on Cooper's side. Most were familiar- other Kooks she vaguely recognized- but a small group of sharply dressed people caught her attention. Their stiff posture and cold expressions stood out among the others. Leaning in slightly toward the group, Y/N lowered her voice.

"Who are they?"

Topper followed her gaze, "They came down from New York, I heard. Family friends or something... probably here to make him look good."

"Right,"

As if that will help

Y/N’s jaw tightened as she muttered, her eyes narrowing for a moment before she pulled her focus back. Rafe glanced at her, catching the shift in her expression, but he didn’t say anything. The murmur of conversation in the courtroom seemed to fade, leaving an uneasy quiet in its wake. Y/N felt it first- but now her group had gone silent as well. The ambient noise around her dissipated, leaving a subtle tension hanging in the air. Confused, she glanced around. The teens in front of her had gone silent, their eyes were all trained on the door. A flicker of unease stirred in her stomach, and her gaze followed theirs as Cooper strolled in, his posture too relaxed for the gravity of the situation. His lawyer- sharp in a tailored suit- walked beside him, scanning the room with practiced detachment.

Y/N's eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, everything around them seemed to still.

Cooper’s steps were measured as he moved past, not rushing, knowing all eyes were on him, and as he neared her, he leaned closer just enough, his voice a quiet, deliberate hiss that only she could hear- but loud enough for the words to strike deep.

"Slut."

The insult sliced through the air, cold and sharp.

Y/N didn’t flinch. Her gaze remained steady, unwavering as she stared straight ahead. Her spine stayed stiff, her body unyielding, though her pulse quickened beneath the surface. Rafe’s head snapped in the direction of the boy’s movements, jaw clenching ferociously as he watched him walk by, Topper’s hand came out onto the boy's chest with a slight shake of his head, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

Fucking asshole

“C’mon”

He says, his voice low, but firm, cutting through the tension. Y/n looks up at him, nodding as Rafe places a steadying hand on her back, a gesture that feels comforting during this period of uncertainty. His touch lingers just a moment longer than necessary, offering reassurance as they make their way down the row to their seats, as they move, the room seems to quiet down to a silence now all eyes turn toward them. People can’t help but watch the two who have been the center of the storm for weeks. Y/N holds her head up, though she feels every inch of their stares, the only thing that keeps her moving forward is Rafe’s presence beside her, strong and unwavering.

They reach the front of the courtroom, and Rafe pulls out a chair for Y/N before settling into his own seat beside her. His posture is stiff, his jaw tight with anticipation, but it’s clear he’s fully focused on Y/N. Hale stands at the front with the rest of the legal team, her gaze flicking between the opposing side and her clients, her steady presence adds an extra layer of security as they settle in. The moment they sit down, she turns toward them, giving a subtle nod of reassurance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe was called to the stand first, his movements smooth as he stood and took his place, his jaw set, his eyes steady. The room was silent as everyone waited for him to speak, watching as the Cameron boy walked behind the stand and sat down, he leant back in the chair as he watched Hale rise, her expression a mix of calculating and clinical as she addressed him.

“Mr. Cameron, can you walk us through what happened on the night in question? Start from when you noticed Ms Y/L/N was missing.”

Rafe’s voice was calm, controlled, though there was an undercurrent of intensity that wasn’t lost on anyone as he recited his memory of the events of the night. Hale nodded as she listened to the boy, her eyes looking over to the jury, where she noticed a few of them taking notes. She thanked Rafe as he finished his testimony and stepped to the side, Cooper’s lawyer standing and addressing him, eyes cold and calculating.

“Mr. Cameron,”

Cooper's lawyer, Dune, began pacing slightly as he spoke, “You’ve testified that you walked into the room and found Ms Y/L/N in distress, but let’s go back a bit. You said you were looking for her because she had gone missing. Is that correct?”

Rafe nodded, his voice steady. “Yes. I couldn’t find her anywhere, which I thought was weird so I had to check around the house to find her.”

“Tell me something Rafe,” he paused, “Why wasn’t Y/n with you in the first place?”

Rafe’s expression remained neutral, though there was a subtle tension in his jaw as he looked at the man, he knew exactly what he was doing, Hale had told him about his possible strategies, trying to rile him up so he would have an outburst in front of the jury and prove his ‘violent’ nature- he wasn’t going to let that happen, if not for his own sake then for Y/n’s.

“She came to the party with Cooper. We weren’t together that night, so I didn’t know where she was.”

Cooper’s lawyer nodded, a slight smirk on his face as he continued. “So, you’re telling this court that you were so concerned about Ms Y/L/N, yet you weren’t with her when you knew she was there, and that she was drunk? Is that what you’re claiming?”

Rafe didn’t flinch, his tone calm, “Yes. We weren’t exactly on speaking terms at the time, I didn’t know where she was until I asked around.”

A brief, look of knowing passed between Cooper and his lawyer as he pressed on, his voice becoming more pointed. Rafe played with the signet ring on his finger,

“And you weren’t speaking to her because you had a falling out,” The lawyer’s tone suggested he was about to unearth something damaging,

Seriously?

“A rather public falling out, if I’m not mistaken?”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he kept his composure. “Yes. We had a disagreement, but that doesn’t change what happened. I was still concerned when I couldn’t find her.”

The lawyer smirked, sensing an opening.

“Isn’t it true, Mr. Cameron, that you and Ms Y/L/N had a rather heated argument not long before that night? You called her- what was it… a ‘slut,’ if I recall correctly from what my client has told me?”

The room went still, the air thick with tension.

Rafe’s face remained expressionless, though the accusation hung in the air like a weight, he noticed the way Y/n tensed slightly in her chair next to Hale and he had to bite his tongue. However, that wasn’t what discomforted him the most, his eyes drifted behind the girl where her parents sat, and he could see the evident frown on her father’s face as he looked from his daughter to the boy. His eyes darted away quickly and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of shame wash over him. He cleared his throat slightly before continuing,

“That was a private matter,”

Rafe replied, his voice level, though there was a quiet firmness in his words. “It was a personal disagreement. It doesn’t change the fact that I was worried about her that night.”

Cooper’s lawyer pushed further, not letting up. “But surely that means you weren’t really that concerned, right? You couldn’t have been if you were still harboring such anger toward her, especially after you insulted her in such a way. Doesn’t that make your actions more about jealousy than concern for her well-being?”

What?

Rafe’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t let the lawyer’s words rattle him even though he hadn't expected this line of questioning.

“I was concerned about her because she was in trouble,” Rafe said slowly. “The argument had nothing to do with what happened, it was two months before halloween.”

The lawyer wasn’t done yet.

“But it could have, couldn’t it? Perhaps you were angry that she was with someone else, and that’s why you broke down the door and attacked Mr. Miller. Maybe you were just trying to play the hero because you were jealous that she wasn’t with you.”

Stop talking shit man

Rafe’s calm demeanor never wavered was he could feel the irritation crawling up the back of his neck,

“I didn’t break down the door because I was jealous, I broke it down because I knew something was wrong. When I heard Y/n crying and couldn’t get her to respond, I was seriously worried. I wasn’t thinking about anything else.”

The lawyer raised his voice a little, pushing harder now, evidently thrown off by the fact that Rafe hadn’t lashed out at him yet.

“Yet you didn’t even try to make sure the situation was under control. You didn’t stop to think- just barged in, without considering if you were making the situation worse.”

At this point, Hale stood up, her voice cutting through the uneasiness in the room.

“Objection, Your Honor,” she said, standing straight with a clear, authoritative tone. “This line of questioning is irrelevant to the case. The defense is speculating about Mr. Cameron’s emotions and intentions which are unnecessary.”

The judge looked over at Hale, his expression thoughtful as he considered her objection. After a brief pause, he nodded slightly.

“Objection sustained,” he said firmly. “Move on, Counsellor.”

About time

Cooper’s lawyer visibly bristled but, after a moment, turned back to Rafe with a more neutral expression.

“You said when you entered the room,” the lawyer pressed, “You found Mr. Miller standing over Ms Y/L/N, correct?”

Rafe’s voice was steady, though there was a subtle hardness to it now. “He was standing above her, acting like nothing had happened.”

The lawyer’s expression hardened, his eyes flickering toward the jury as he made his point. “So, you immediately assumed the worst, you didn’t consider that perhaps Ms Y/L/N had simply fallen and hurt herself?”

Yeah right, cause you think I'm blind?

Rafe’s gaze never left him as his eyes narrowed, “No. When I saw her, she was bleeding, her clothes were ripped. It was obvious he had hurt her, how could she have ripped her own clothes herself?”

The lawyer’s voice was now dripping with doubt, “So despite the fact that you had no clear evidence of any wrongdoing, you decided to take matters into your own hands and you physically attacked Mr. Miller?”

Are you even listening to me?

Rafe’s expression remained unwavering. “I didn’t attack him, I was protecting Y/n. I told him to get away from her, but he evidently wasn’t listening to me since he blocked my path, so I had to do what I needed to do to ensure Y/n was safe.”

“But he wasn’t physically attacking her at that moment Mr Cameron so why did you beat him to the brink of death,” the lawyer asked, leaning in.

Rafe’s response was swift, his tone firm. “He didn’t need to be- I saw the blood, the bruising, and I knew she wasn’t okay, I wasn’t going to let him hurt her. What if I had left and he continued?”

There was a slight pause as the lawyer adjusted his stance, clearly trying to manipulate Rafe’s response.

“So, you’re saying you acted out of concern for Ms Y/L/N, but you didn’t have a clear understanding of what had happened, correct?” Rafe’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but his composure never cracked.

“I knew what had happened. And I wasn’t going to let Cooper continue to sexually assault Y/n when I could have stopped it”

A murmur rose from the crowd watching, whispers of agreement arising causing the lawyer to give him one last, sharp look and his jaw tightened, but he gave a sharp nod, signalling the end of his questioning and he returned to his seat, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s unwavering calm.

Fuck you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cooper adjusted his suit cuffs as he approached the stand, every step slow and confident, clearly no hesitation in his movement. Y/n tensed slightly in her seat, keeping her eyes on the worn down wooden table in front of her, the surface clearly eroded over the years, gloss dull and matted. Rafe looked over at the girl, his hand moving out slowly and placing over hers which was resting on her knee, he squeezed her hand slightly in silent support, and her eyes flicker up from the table looking up at him. If they weren't in the situation they’ve found themselves in, Y/n would have taken more time to admire the boy sitting next to her, smartly clad in a black suit, grey tie neatly done up, white shirt pristine against his tanned skin. She could feel the coolness of his signet ring against her skin and the feeling grounded her for a second, her eyes met his and she gave him a small smile, which he returned. The bailiff stepped forward,

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“I do.”

Cooper’s voice was steady, calm, as though he’d dealt with situations like this many times before. Cooper’s lawyer rose, offering him a reassuring smile.

“Mr. Miller, thank you for being here today. I know this has been difficult for you.”

Cooper gave a practiced, somber nod as he spoke out, “Yes. It’s been… overwhelming. But I want to clear the air, if not for my own wellbeing but for those who are being affected personally why this disagreement.”

His tone was soft, measured as he spoke, hands clasped together, with a small nod of his head.

“Let’s start with the night in question. Can you explain to the court what happened between you and Miss Y/L/N?”

Cooper sighed quietly, eyes flicking briefly toward Y/N.

“I was at the party with Y/n and like everyone else I was drinking, having fun, and of course we were separated for a while. You know I have many other friends at the party so I left her to do her own thing. But then when I saw Y/N, she seemed pretty out of it, and much like any other normal person would be, I was concerned for her.”

A pause came in his words as he pushed his hair out of his face and continued,

“She was drunk, and I didn’t think it was safe for her to be alone, so I offered to help her find the bathroom and she agreed. She could barely stand, I mean when I was leading her up the stairs I almost had to carry her up myself. She was leaning on me so much, so that led me to infer she clearly wasn't in a stable state.”

Cooper leaned forward slightly, voice dropping just enough to sound sincere.

“We ended up in a bedroom with a bathroom attached. She wasn’t feeling well so I tried to get her somewhere quieter, the downstairs bathroom was so busy. She went in, and when she came out, I kissed her and she happily kissed me back.”

His eyes met the jury’s as he spoke, “I thought it was mutual... She never told me to stop. Not once.”

Liar

He let the words sink in as his lawyer prompted gently. “And then?” Cooper shook his head slowly.

“It started getting a little heated, sure but then, out of nowhere, she elbowed me in the stomach.”

His hand instinctively brushed his waist as if remembering before shaking his head as he continued strongly,

“I backed off immediately. I thought maybe she was more drunk than I realized and she was reacting violently, so I tried to help her up but then she tripped over her own feet fell, it must've been from those heels she was wearing. She hit her head and I panicked, to be honest I didn’t know what to do.”

He looked down taking a moment before he spoke up again voice cracking slightly,

“I was trying to help her and then Rafe kicked down the door and attacked me for no reason, just started hitting me over and over. I thought I was going to die.”

Cooper’s lawyer gave a sympathetic nod as he looked at the teen asking, “Did you try to explain to Mr. Cameron what happened?”

“Yes of course I did, I told him she fell. That I was helping her but he wouldn’t listen to me. He wanted to believe I was hurting her, but I wasn’t. I swear to God, I wasn’t.”

The courtroom was silent as his lawyer let the words linger.

“Have you ever forced yourself on Ms Y/L/N or anyone else?”

Cooper’s eyes narrowed slightly, his face expressing disgust long enough for him to speak out,

“No. Never.”

You're such a fucking Liar

He sat perfectly still, letting the jury absorb his calm denial as his Lawyer shook his head with a small smile in his direction before turning towards his table and standing by his seat, “Thank you, Mr Miller. No further questions.” Cooper exhaled, sitting back in his seat as his eyes flicked toward Y/N, just for a second. She stared back at him, refusing to look away, and the boy's gaze hesitated, darting over her posture, evidently catching her close proximity with Rafe. Hale rose from her seat, a cold precision in her movements as she stepped forwards, voice clear and approaching with a quiet authority.

“Mr. Miller”

Cooper turned toward her, polite smile, his eyes looking the woman up and down, “Yes?”

“You’ve told this court that Ms Y/L/N never objected to your advances. That she never said no. Correct?”

Cooper nodded, keeping his expression neutral, “That’s right.”

Hale’s eyes sharpened, tilting her head slightly as she looked to the boy when she spoke,

“And yet, the rape kit performed the morning after the incident found bruising consistent with forceful restraint. Bruises on Ms Y/L/N’s wrists and thighs.”

She paused as she peered over to the jury, many member’s frowning as they listened to the woman's words, “Would you like to explain how she got those?”

Cooper’s jaw tightened, just slightly, as his tongue darted out to lick his lips, his shoulders shrugging slightly.

“She was drunk, she might’ve fallen. Or maybe when she hit me I-”

“Oh, so now you’re suggesting you might’ve left those marks?”

A flicker of frustration crossed his face as he narrowed his eyes at her speaking out more forcefully now, “No, I’m saying she was drunk and unsteady. She could’ve bruised herself.”

Hale took a step closer towards the boy behind the witness stand as she crossed her arms again, “On both wrists and thighs?”

Cooper hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s convenient.”

“Objection,” Cooper’s lawyer snapped. “Argumentative.” Y/n mentally rolled her eyes at the man’s comment, of course he was going to object to Hale, she was proving to the jury that the boy sitting in front of them was nothing but a conniving manipulator. “Sustained. Move on, Ms. Hale.” The lawyer smoothed her blazer down before continuing,

“Let’s talk about the door.”

Cooper blinked as he looked at her cluelessly, the questioning was going nothing like his lawyer had told him it would and Hale could tell from the boy's body language, he was now fully sitting up leaning forward as he spoke, arms resting on the witness stand.

“What about it?”

“The bedroom door was locked. From the inside.”

Cooper hesitated as he looked at the woman before a confused expression slipped onto his face, “I don’t remember locking it, maybe Y/n did it or it got jammed closed, I didn’t lock it.”

The woman gave a nod, however she wasn't fooled by his petty excuse,

“Well considering you stated that my client was severely drunk as you led her up to the room, I doubt she would be capable of locking the door herself as that takes coordination which, from your recollection Mr Miller, she did not have. You said Rafe attacked you without reason but isn’t it true that when he tried to get to Y/N, you blocked him and told him to stay out of it?”

Cat got your tongue bitch?

Cooper’s expression darkened for a split second and Y/n could depict a flash of panic behind his eyes, “I told him she was fine I didn’t want him to overreact-”

“-Overreact?” Hale’s voice sharpened. “He found her bruised, barely conscious on the floor with you hovering above her helpless frame, I wouldn’t consider that ‘overreacting,’ would you?”

Cooper’s jaw tightened, as he watched the woman peer over to the jury, his eyes narrowed as he spat out,

“I didn’t hurt her.”

“Funny. You seem to remember everything else so clearly, but not that.”

Rafe peered over at Y/n, eyes lingering on her, taking note of her hand resting on the table, her finger picking at the skin on her thumb which had now turned an irritated pink, his brows drew down in concern as his hand reached out to push her finger away from her thumb, she looked up at his confused, eyes now drawn away from her hand. It was evident she was anxious, the boy didn't need to be genius to realise that, so he gestured over to Cooper with his eye’s, the girls following the boys gaze, her vision landing on the boy on the stand who now had a sour expression on his face, clearly displeased with the way Hale was persistently digging into him.

“One more thing I’d like to draw attention to is Miss Y/L/N’s head injury. The medical report shows blunt force trauma consistent with her skull being slammed against a hard surface,” the women turned away from the jury and now directed her questioning to Cooper,

“did she ‘fall’ into the floor too?”

Cooper’s lips pressed into a thin line as he bit back at the woman, “She hit me first. I lost my balance, and we both went down.”

“So you’re saying you accidentally slammed her head into the ground?”

“That’s not what I—”

Hale stepped forward, cutting him off as she crossed her arms, “Tell me, Mr. Miller When Y/n tried to crawl to the door, did you help her up?”

“I- she wasn’t-”

“Or did you pull her back?”

“I didn’t-”

“Did you hit her head against the floor to keep her quiet?”

“No!”

The word echoed in the courtroom, Cooper’s face flushed as he slammed his hand down against the witness stand, Y/n jumped slightly at the sound.

Silence.

Hale leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a deadly calm.

“Then why did she have a concussion, Mr. Miller?”

Cooper’s throat worked to swallow as he hesitated, his eyes looking over to his own lawyer. Hale’s eyes locked onto his about to speak again yet she was cut off,

“You’re a lying son of a bitch!”

What?

The words erupted from the back of the courtroom, sharp and venomous, slicing through the tense silence like a blade. Gasps rippled across the room as every head turned toward the source of the outburst. A man stood rigid, his face red with fury, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles blanched. Before the shock could fully settle, another voice snarled from Cooper’s side, colder, sharper. Y/N whipped her head around, following the sound of the man’s voice, and her eyes landed on the last person she expected to see- the captain from her family’s yacht. Surprise rippled through her chest, he’d always been a quiet, steady presence in her life, seeing him now, standing rigid with fury on her behalf, sent a strange mix of comfort washing over her.

“Shut the fuck up, Pogue!”

Oh shit-

A man shot up from where he was sitting on the bench on the opposite side of the hall, shoulders squared, lips curled in a sneer. His voice carried like a threat, heavy with disdain, the insult cracking like a whip in the charged atmosphere, it was like striking a match in a dry forest.

Voices broke out in overlapping shouts- some in protest, others in confusion. Chairs scraped at the back of the hall, where there hadn’t been enough benches for people to sit on, the polished floor being scratched as people shifted, some rising slightly, others leaning forward as if expecting the tension to snap into violence. Chaos swelled, voices stacking over one another, each second pulling the room further from order.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The gavel slammed down with heavy force, each strike louder than the last, commanding the room to heel.

“Order!” the judge bellowed, his voice slicing clean through the noise.

BANG.

“ORDER IN THIS COURT!”

The room recoiled as voices died mid-sentence and everyone’s movements stilled. The judge leaned forward, his glare sweeping across the courtroom, cold and unforgiving, “One more interruption, and I will not hesitate to clear this courtroom. Do I make myself clear?”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

The man on Cooper’s side slumped back into his seat, muttering under his breath, though his eyes still burned with quiet hostility. Across the aisle, the captain who had first shouted stood frozen for a moment longer, chest heaving, before slowly sinking back into his chair, his glare locked on Cooper with a hatred that didn’t need words. The air felt heavier now, weighted with unsaid threats and lingering tension, but the judge exhaled slowly, fingers flexing around the gavel. Cooper, pale and rigid on the stand, didn’t dare look at anyone as the judge turned his attention back, his voice was low but firm,

“Mr. Miller Answer the question.”

Cooper’s lips barely moved.

“I- I don’t know.”

Yet no one believed him as Cooper sat frozen on the stand, his composed mask cracked, his palms pressed against the wood. As Y/n watched him, sitting in the spotlight, this was the first time she’d noticed that he didn’t look so confident. Hale didn’t need to say another word as she turned on her heel, returning to her seat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The courtroom felt colder when Y/N was called to the stand.

Her name echoed through the silence, and for a heartbeat, she couldn’t move until Rafe’s hand brushed her arm briefly, a quiet reassurance and Hale gave her a small nod. The girl rose on shaky legs, feeling every set of eyes turn toward her. The floor seemed too far away, her heels too loud as she crossed the room, Each step felt heavier than the last she made her way to the daunting witness stand. As she sat down, the wooden chair hard and unyielding beneath her eyes flickered to Cooper for half a second. The boy leaned back in his chair slightly.

Fuck you

Hale rose smoothly, standing in front of the jury with a calm, composed presence.

“Y/N,” Hale’s voice softened, “I know this is difficult, but I need you to walk us through what happened that night. Please, tell the jury what you remember, every little detail helps.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her mouth dry.

“I was at Matthew White’s house on halloween night for the party he was hosting, well there was a lot of drinking obviously, and after a while I-” She paused, clearing her throat slightly, “ um- I was really drunk so Cooper offered to help me… to the bathroom.”

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt as her eyes darted around the room, everyone staring back at her, many expressionless, others with their eyebrows drawn down as they listened to her words.

“But he took me into a bedroom with a bathroom attached, and I thought that was odd but I didn’t say anything and I went into the bathroom by myself, and then, when I came out, he was there… waiting for me.”

Her throat tightened slightly as her nail started to scratch at the material of her skirt to distract herself as she spoke and she pushed forward.

“I was feeling dizzy when I came out so I went to sit down but Cooper sort of got in the way. Then next thing I know he’s kissing me. I didn’t stop him at first. I thought- I thought it was harmless...”

She heard a murmur arise from the crowd, and as she looked past Hale her eyes caught onto some people shaking their heads with disbelief, some of the people on Cooper's side of the court were rolling their eyes, causing her teeth to grind against each other.

“But then it… it escalated and he started touching me more aggressively. And I- I told him to stop I— I was saying it, but it was like… like I wasn’t loud enough or he just wasn’t listening. I was… drunk, and it was hard to get the words out so I tried pushing him off, but he wouldn’t listen… to me.”

Keep it together Y/n

Her breath grew shaky and she could feel her bottom lip trembling so her hand tightened on the armrest of her seat.

“I started to panic so I hit him. I elbowed him and I tried to move when he let go of me, but I stumbled. I hit my head on something and I fell… I tried crawling to the door, but…”

Her voice broke, and she blinked rapidly to clear her vision.

“…but he grabbed me. And he didn’t stop.”

The words barely made it out past her lips and for a moment she wondered if this was worth it. What if they didn't win the case, was she really ready to be humiliated in front of almost the whole island. Hale’s voice rang out in her ears and she realised she must have been standing there silently for longer than she thought,

“Are you okay to continue-”

“-Yes, uh sorry yes, so I was crying and I remember someone trying to open the door. And I was relieved but then, I realised it was locked, so I reacted upon instinct and I… Well I headbutted Cooper to get him off me and I thought I could crawl over to the door but- but he just- he slammed my head into the floor and then… it’s blurry. I think I blacked out momentarily.”

Her hands trembled in her lap.

Baby-

“The next thing I remember was Rafe in the room and Cooper was on the floor, and uh… Rafe was, he was hitting him. And I- I couldn’t move because my whole body was aching so I couldn’t- I couldn’t move.”

Her voice cracked, and she looked down avoiding the burning gaze of the boy who was staring at her angrily. Hale gave her a moment, then spoke softly.

“Thank you, Y/N. No further questions, Your Honor.”

Y/N barely breathed as Hale returned to her seat.

But the relief didn’t last as Cooper’s lawyer leaned over to the boy whispering something in his ear before he rose slowly, unbuttoning his blazer. His expression was calm, but there was something cold behind his eyes. He approached the stand with careful steps,

“Ms Y/L/N,” he began smoothly, “I want to make sure I understand. You willingly followed Mr. Miller into that bedroom, correct?”

Y/N’s lips pressed together.

“I… he said he was taking me to the bathroom.”

“And you didn’t object to going with him?”

Her jaw tensed.

“No.”

“You also said that when Mr. Miller kissed you, you didn’t stop him. In fact, you were okay with it at first?”

Her stomach twisted.

“Yes. But—”

He raised a hand casually.

“Just yes or no, please.”

Asshole

Her hands gripped the seat.

“Yes.”

“So at that point, things were consensual.”

“That’s not what I said!”

A sharp silence cut through the room as she spoke out louder than expected, the lawyer paused, raising an eyebrow brow at her behaviour, clearly amused by the situation. Hale stood abruptly at the girl's distress.

“Objection, Your Honor. Counsel is badgering the witness.”

The judge barely acknowledged the woman's voice, focused on the papers he was reading, hand moving up to pull the wire rimmed glasses off his face as he looked up and spoke out to the lawyer before turning to the girl,

“Overruled. Watch your tone, Ms Y/L/N. Answer the question.”

Rafe watched the girl from his seat next to Hale, his hands clasped together on the table, leg nervously bouncing underneath it. Hale had told him he couldn't act out today, that if he did the chances of them winning the case would be minimal, so he sat there, silent, unmoving, his pulse thudding heavily in his ears as he watched the girl in front of him being scrutinized on her every word and action. She cleared her throat before she spoke up again,

“At first, yes. But when it got worse-”

“And you were intoxicated at this point, correct? Heavily intoxicated?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s fair to say your memory of what exactly was said or done might not be entirely clear?”

What?

Y/N’s throat burned.

“I remember saying no.”

“But you just admitted you were mumbling and not speaking clearly. Is it possible that Mr. Miller didn’t hear you?”

This isn't fair

Her heart hammered as the man pressed his questioning.

“I—No. He knew.”

“But you can’t say for certain what he heard, can you?”

Silence. What was she even meant to respond to? She sat there staring at him before mumbling out,

“No.”

The lawyer smiled faintly, turning toward the jury as he folded his arms and continued speaking.

“You also stated that you hit him first. That you initiated physical violence against him. Correct?”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly at the man's question, the judgemental mumble rising from the crowd once more. She looked over to Hale who was staring down at her paper writing something down ferociously, her gaze then drifted over to Rafe whose jaw was clenched tightly, brows filled down into a frown, he gave her a small shake of the head.

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

“I hit him because he wouldn’t stop—”

“But you hit him. Yes or no?”

“This isn’t fair! I was defending myself!”

The lawyer’s lips curled slightly as he observed the girl lose her temper, he raised his hand stopping her protests as he spoke out.

“But you hit him first. Yes or no?”

Y/N’s mouth opened before it closed again, she breathes out heavily through her nose before she sighed out,

“Yes.”

He took a slow step back nodding his head to himself, from the corner of her eye she noticed one of the jury members leaning over, whispering something into the ear of the man sitting next to her causing him to nod in agreement. She felt a lump start to form in her throat.

“So, to summarize- you followed him willingly, kissed him willingly, didn’t clearly say no, and then physically attacked him. Isn’t that correct?”

“That’s not-”

“Yes or no?”

Her hand was trembling in her lap as her tongue darted out quickly to wet her lisp, her voice barely was barely audible as she spoke,

“Yes.”

The lawyer gave a small, satisfied nod, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he walked back towards the table, shuffling through his papers before placing them down. He leaned over to Cooper slightly mumbling something. For the moment that he had his back turned to her, she let out a shaky breath and her hand came up shakily to run over teh bridge of her nose. Her eyes looked up and caught Rafe’s, ‘Are you okay?’, the boy mouthed in her direction causing her to give him a slight nod.

Her attention was drawn back to Dune as he spoke to her once again, “If I remember correctly from what you stated for us in your testimony earlier, after my client ‘supposedly’ harmed you, you blacked out afterward. Does that sound right to you Ms Y/L/N?”

She looked at him expressionless, she refused to give Cooper the satisfaction of seeing her in this position, he was already staring at her, tapping his fingers against the table.

“For a moment.”

“So you can’t say for certain what Cooper was doing when Mr. Cameron entered the room?”

Her entire body froze.

“I know what he was doing, he- he was hurting me”

“But you can’t prove it, can you?”

"I-"

“Objection!” Hale’s voice cut through the air. “Argumentative.”

The judge shook his head slowly as he turned to the man, “Sustained, If you don't have more to say on the matter Mr. Dune move on.” The lawyer’s gaze was steady as he looked to Y/n with a smile, nothing but sarcastic and forced,

“No further questions, Your Honour.”

Y/N sat frozen, the blood roaring in her ears as Cooper’s lawyer returned to his seat, composed and calm. Her eyes drifted over to the boy sitting next to him, now sitting back comfortably in his seat, a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

The air in the courtroom felt thick, suffocating, as Y/N slowly made her way back to her seat next to Rafe. Her legs felt unsteady, as though they might give way beneath her at any moment. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her head spinning from the brutal questioning and the weight of reliving that night. The boy’s eyes didn’t leave her as she sat down, his gaze sharp and concerned. He could see the way she was trembling, her fingers clenched tightly on the edge of the chair, her breaths uneven. His jaw tightened with a protective instinct he couldn’t suppress. Cooper’s lawyer was now droning on, continuing his cross-examination of some irrelevant point, but Rafe wasn’t paying attention. He leaned closer to her, his voice low enough not to interrupt the court, but with an edge of urgency.

“...are you okay?”

Y/N flinched slightly, not expecting him to speak so close, but when she met his eyes, her facade crumbled. Before she got out of the car outside the courthouse she told herself she wouldn’t break down in front of everyone, she refused to do so, it was humiliating, embarrassing, shameful, but now she didn’t have the strength to hold it in anymore

“I… I can’t breathe”

Shit

She whispered, her voice barely audible. The words hung in the air, and Rafe’s heart clenched as he took in her slightly trembling frame. Before she could say more, he immediately sat up straighter, his hand moving to her arm, his fingers brushing against her skin in a silent gesture of comfort, but it was clear she was struggling to keep her composure. He glanced at Hale, who was sitting just a few feet away, her eyes fixed on the proceedings.

“Hale,” he murmured urgently, leaning in.

“We need a break. Now.”

Hale looked at him, taking in the concern written all over his face, she didn’t hesitate for a second as her gaze drifted over to the girl’s hands, now situated in her lap, gripping at the material of her skirt. Hale stood up swiftly, cutting through the Dune’s long-winded explanation, her voice rang clear and commanding.

“Your Honour, we request a brief recess. My client is clearly in distress.”

The judge, who had been watching closely, raised an eyebrow. He had noticed the way Y/N was reacting, her flushed face and rapid breathing, he let out a hum, looking over to the clock situated on the wall and gave a small nod.

“Very well,” the judge said, his voice carrying authority. “We’ll take a short recess.”

The bailiff slammed the gavel down, and a murmur of surprise rippled through the room as the court was officially adjourned for the break.

Get me out of here-

Y/N didn’t wait for anyone to speak to her. As soon as the gavel hit, she stood up quickly, her knees unsteady as she jerkily pushed the chair away from the table, and without saying a word, she rushed towards the doors. The eyes of the entire courtroom were on her as she made her way out, her steps hurried as the clicks of her heels were heard bounding against the wooden floor.

Rafe was already on his feet, his hand on his chair as he followed after her mumbling out a small ‘sorry’ under his breath to Hale, moving quickly but quietly followed in the girl's steps.

The aisle to the exit of the courtroom felt endless as she rushed down it, desperate to escape the feeling of being trapped inside its walls. The noise from the courtroom still echoed in her mind, but it was the tightness in her chest that terrified her the most. She felt like she was suffocating.

“Y/N!”

Rafe’s voice cut through the distance as he caught up with her. She pushed through the heavy courtroom doors, she didn’t look back, the weight of everything pressing down on her with every step. The sound of her heels hitting against the cement of the steps reverberated in her ears, her hands coming up to push her hair out of her face as she walked, suddenly pulling her blazer off her body, feeling claustrophobic. Rafe’s hand reached out gently to touch her arm, she stopped but didn’t turn to face him. He could see her shoulders trembling, and the strong grip she had on her blazer which was now crumpled in her hand. Rafe kept his voice low, calm,

“You’re okay. Just breathe, Y/N. Please…”

But she didn’t respond, the sobs choking her before she could form any words. Her face was instantly covered by her palms, her hands shaking, as she tried to hide herself, overcome by shame. Rafe’s chest tightened with the need to comfort her, to fix this, but there was nothing he could do but hold her steady.

“Y/N, look at me,”

He urged gently, but she still wouldn’t face him so he stepped closer, his hands resting on her shoulders as he turned her toward him. His voice softened even more, a quiet command.

“Y/N, need you to breathe for me.”

I can't-

Her ragged breaths began to slow ever so slightly, but they didn't disappear as she leaned into him, her face buried against his chest. The moment felt fragile, as though she might break apart at any second.

“Just breathe,”

Rafe repeated, holding her close, his fingers gently running over her back, he didn’t care who was watching; although there was no-one outside, Shoupe had clearly kept the crowd inside to provide the two with some privacy. He let his hold on her drop slightly as she pulled back taking in a shaky breath, fingers trying to carefully wipe at the tears which clung to her lower lashes, careful not to smudge anymore of her mascara, but her crying wasn’t making it any easier for her.

Y/N took a few steps back and leant against the wall, before she slowly moved down the cold brick now slumped, her knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as if she were trying to hold herself together. The coldness of the courthouse walls did nothing to ease the anxiety and anger coursing through her, heating her skin. Her breath was still wavering, shaky sobs escaping from her as her mind continued to replay the questioning, over analysing every moment. Rafe didn’t hesitate as he crouched down beside her, his gaze soft as he leaned back against the wall, mirroring her position, close enough to feel the tension in her body, but careful not to crowd her.

“I know. I know, angel”

He said quietly, his voice deep and soothing. His fingers brushed over the back of her hand, a grounding touch as she continued to tremble.

“It’s okay.”

Her eyes stayed down, her breathing still shallow, but the words she spoke next made his heart twist in his chest, her voice barely passing her lips,

“I don’t even care about any of this anymore,” Y/N whispered, her voice hoarse and cracked. She swallowed, the words coming out in a pained, broken rush.

“I don’t care about me, I just… I don’t want you to go to jail, Rafe. I don’t want you to pay for something I… I know you didn’t do.”

Rafe’s heart ached at her words. She was thinking about him- about his future- when she should have been able to focus on her own, her own healing. It wasn’t fair. But that was who she was: selfless, through all the years he’d known her, her loyalty for their friendship never wavered, and if it did it was his fault. He gently took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly and he met her gaze, his expression soft but resolute.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low but clear. “This isn’t your fault, none of this is your fault-”

Yes it is

Her eyes welled with more tears, and she shook her head, feeling lost in the depth of her emotions,

“But I’m the one who-”

“-No”

He interrupted gently, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. “It’s not your fault, and I’m not going anywhere okay? You did a great job in there, such a good job angel.”

She let out a shaky breath, the words she wanted to say stuck in her throat. But her gaze softened slightly as she looked at him, the boy sending her a comforting smile. Rafe didn’t try to say anything more. He just stayed there, leaning against the wall beside her,

The sound of footsteps approaching interrupted the moment, and Rafe was the first to rise, offering his hand to her, Y/N hesitated for a second but took it, letting him help her to her feet. Her shoulders were slumped, her expression drained, and he could tell she’d had enough. He slowly raised his hand and wiped his thumb against the skin on her cheek, her eyes fluttering closed at the touch. He carefully rubbed off the black smudges on her skin and took the blazer from her hands, holding it out for her to put on. She slipped her arms into the material, Rafe smoothing it out on her shoulders before she tuned to face him, eyes meeting his. She licked her lips slightly as she paused.

Tell him

“Rafe I-”

“You kids ready?”

Her head turned towards the voice, Shoupe standing there looking back at them, hands on his hips. She let out a breath as she gave him a small nod, Rafe’s hand giving hers a firm squeeze.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The courtroom was tense, every eye focused on the exchange between the defense and prosecution. Cooper’s lawyer stood at his table, flipping through a file with a grim expression. Hale, on the other side, was calm but visibly firm, her eyes locked on Dune, she was getting ready for a showdown, and both of them knew it from the way he was hastily flickering through his papers. Dune stood up, his voice clear as he addressed the judge.

“Your Honor, we’ve seen the rape kit evidence presented, but it’s crucial to point out that it’s inconclusive. There are no definitive signs of trauma that directly link my client to any kind of assault. The defendant,” he glanced at Y/N, “was heavily intoxicated that night, and I would argue that her memory of events is unreliable.”

Hale’s eyes narrowed, her voice rising slightly as she stood to respond to the man's statement.

“Objection, Your Honor,”

She didn’t wait for the judge to respond, instead taking a step forward.

“The defense is attempting to discredit the evidence without offering any substantive counterarguments. The rape kit- though it may not provide a perfect picture- does show evidence of physical harm consistent with sexual assault, and the presence of trauma in her nasal cavity and forehead which is not something that can be easily dismissed.”

Dune snapped his head toward Hale.

“Your Honor, this is a speculative statement,” he said sharply, his voice rising in frustration. “We are talking about a piece of evidence that- at best- only suggests a mild injury. The victim was intoxicated, and her memory is so compromised that she cannot even accurately describe the events leading up to what happened. I challenge the prosecution to explain why this should be considered definitive proof of an assault!”

The tension in the room was palpable. The judge, who had been quietly listening, gave an almost imperceptible sigh, then raised his gavel, cutting off the lawyer's angry rambling.

“Order!” The judge’s voice rang out,

“Mr. Dune, you will refrain from speaking over opposing counsel. We will proceed with the evidence, and I expect you to stick to the facts.”

The room fell silent. Y/N’s breath hitched, her hand gripping Rafe’s before pulling away as she notices Cooper’s harsh glare at her. Hale’s tone remained calm but sharp as she turned to the judge.

“Thank you, Your Honor. Now, I’d like to clarify the importance of this evidence. The rape kit may not be a perfect diagnosis, but it is highly suggestive of the victim’s physical condition at the time of the assault. And contrary to the defense’s argument, that is something we cannot overlook.”

Mr. Dune’s voice snapped back.

“The kit also fails to find any traces of my client’s DNA, Your Honor. In fact, the absence of such evidence only strengthens our case. It suggests that whatever happened between Ms. Y/N and my client was nothing more than a misunderstanding, possibly fueled by intoxication and poor judgment.”

The man’s words seemed to clearly frustrate the woman as she stood up straighter, her eyes never leaving the defense attorney as she leaned in, her voice piercing.

“Your Honor, Mr. Dune is conveniently ignoring the fact that the victim was unconscious for a period of time and unable to resist. She was completely vulnerable to whatever actions Mr. Cooper chose to take. The lack of DNA evidence does not disprove anything. In fact, it could indicate that Cooper was being careful, possibly because he knew what he was doing was wrong-”

The room fell into a stunned silence, the weight of Hale’s words hanging heavily in the air but Dune, clearly taken aback by the force of Hale’s argument, wasn’t backing down.

“-objection, Your Honor,” he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s pure speculation. Just because something is ‘suggestive’ doesn’t make it fact. We cannot convict a man on ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybe’s-’”

At this, the judge slammed his gavel down, his voice booming.

“Enough!”

The room instantly quieted. “This is a courtroom, not a battle of egos. Respect the process and refrain from making assumptions.”

With a final, lingering glare at Dune, the judge turned his attention back to the court.

The tension simmered as the argument subsided, and both lawyers reluctantly returned to their seats. But the impact of their verbal clash had set the courtroom on edge. Y/N, looked at Rafe, who gave her a reassuring nod.

After the outburst the courtroom gradually settled into a thick, suffocating silence. Y/N and Rafe shifted their seats, as well as Cooper who was now significantly more on edge then when the trial began. She sat stiffly, gripping the edge of the table as if it could anchor her in place. Rafe watched her carefully as Hale, composed but tense, sifted through her notes with a sharp glance toward the defence table. Dune rose, straightening his tie with deliberate ease.

“Your Honour,” he began, his voice smooth, almost oily, “the defence would like to introduce a recently obtained piece of evidence, crucial to understanding the nature of the relationship between Ms. Y/L/N and my client.”

Hale’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing.

What?

“Objection, Your Honour! This evidence was not submitted during discovery. The prosecution was given no notice of this.”

The judge’s eyes sharpened. “Approach the bench.”

Both lawyers strode forward, their voices low but charged with tension. Dunne leaned in, explaining that the video had only recently surfaced and was essential for the jury’s understanding. Hale’s rebuttal was swift and fierce, challenging its credibility and timing but the judge, after a brief pause, sighed out,

“Proceed, Mr. Dune.”

A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face as he turned smoothly back to the courtroom, “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’d direct your attention to the screen.”

The grainy footage began to play on the small screen. The image jerked as if filmed on a shaky phone, the party’s noise buzzed faintly in the background. Y/N appeared on the screen, laughing in her matching costume beside Cooper. His hand rested casually on her waist. She didn’t pull away, leaning forward and resting her head on his shoulder.

A ripple of whispers spread through the gallery like a slow-burning fuse.

Y/N’s stomach dropped.

No, no, no, no-

The air around her thickened as if the walls were closing in. The video felt like a cold hand pressing against her throat, squeezing, she tightened her grip on the table, her knuckles pale as she felt everyone’s eyes on her.

Dune’s voice rang out, slicing through the murmurs.

“I ask the jury to take a close look. This is not a girl in distress, this is very clearly not fear, Ms. Y/L/N chose to spend time with my client and from their body language it is apparent they enjoyed each other's company. They wore coordinated costumes, as far as I am aware you don’t do that with someone you don’t like. This isn’t coercion- this is consent.”

The murmurs swelled, small gasps punctuating the air.

“That’s not how it was,” Y/N whispered under her breath, barely audible as she shook her head turning to Rafe, “this was- this was before it happened.”

Rafe leaned in slightly, voice low and steady, “They’re twisting it,” he murmured in her ear “don’t let them get in your head.”

Across the room, Hale spoke out abruptly, “Objection, Your Honour! This footage lacks context and is intentionally prejudicial.”

Dunne spread his hands in mock innocence as he turned to the lawyer, a smug expression now plastered onto his face, “Context? The footage speaks for itself, Ms. Hale.”

The judge’s expression darkened, but he waved a dismissive hand, turning to Cooper’s lawyer, “Overruled Ms. Hale. Continue.”

Dunne, a thin smirk tugging at his mouth, turned back to Y/N as he took a few steps towards the table where she was sat with Rafe.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” he said, voice smooth but coiled with intent, “you willingly left the party and went upstairs with my client, didn’t you?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice barely steady as she shook her head at him, “I was drunk… I thought he was helping me.”

“But you did leave with him,” Dunne pressed, stepping forward once more, “you didn’t call for help when he led you up the stairs, you didn’t scream. Isn’t that true?”

Stop Stop Sto-

Rafe’s jaw was clenched as he felt the girls panic next to him, gruffly speaking out,

“She’s just told yo-”

“I’m not speaking to you Mr Cameron.”

Dune shot back coldly as he ignored the boy, not even bothering to look at him as he spoke. Rafe’s brows drew down into an immediate frown, his mouth opening again to speak out but was cut off by Hale’s voice.

“Objection! Badgering the witness!”

The judge didn’t blink as he leant forward in his seat, clearly interested in the unraveling scene,

“Overruled. Proceed.”

Dune’s grin tightened as he turned back to the girl, hand gesturing out to her and then Cooper as he spoke,

“And these matching costumes- whose idea were they? Yours, or my client’s?”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Her mind scrambled as she struggled to respond, “It—it wasn’t like that,” she stammered. Dunne’s tone sharpened, slicing through the still air.

“Answer the question.”

“Watch your tone man.”

Rafe barked out next to the girl standing up protectively, when he noticed her eyes had glossed over with tears again. The courtroom felt as though it might snap from the tension, everyone in the room eagerly awaiting what would happen next. Everyone had been surprised that Rafe had managed to keep his calm for so long, but his composure was slowly crumbling. Jurors exchanged uneasy glances as the boy stood, angrily staring up at Dune. Hale had shot him a warning look causing this to let out a frustrated huff and sit back down. Y/N’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Across the room, she could feel Cooper’s smirk like a knife in her skin. Dune leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a condescending murmur,

“Come on, Ms. Y/L/N, let’s not dance around this. You weren’t exactly pushing him away, were you?”

Is he allowed to do this?

Y/N’s eyes snapped up, locking onto his. Her grip on the edge of the table tightened as her voice trembled but sharpened at the end.

“That’s not true.”

“Not true?”

Dunne’s smirk didn’t falter, as he paced slowly, making a show of thinking, “You willingly followed him upstairs and you kissed him back. So tell me, Ms. Y/L/N- how exactly is that not true?”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse pounding in her ears as she hissed, louder now, “I told him to stop”

Dunne didn’t back down.

“Oh? Did you? Or is that just what you’re telling yourself now to make sense of your regret?”

When I fucking get my hands on you you smug piece of-

The words sliced through the air and Y/N’s face flushed hot. She leaned forward slightly, her voice cracking under the strain, “I said stop. I fought him because he wouldn't do so.”

Dunne’s smirk widened, smug and venomous as he pushed the conversation further,

“Really? Because it seems to me, Ms. Y/L/N, that you only changed your mind after your boyfriend showed up.”

Something inside Y/N snapped at the man’s words and found herself shouting out angrily, her voice echoing through the courtroom.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

A shocked murmur rippled through the gallery at her reaction, many members of the jury raising their brows, eyes darting down to their notes, pencils scribbling against the paper. Dune straightened, unfazed but clearly pleased.

“Oh, struck a nerve, have I? My mistake. Ex-boyfriend then?”

Y/N’s jaw tightened as she responded, “That doesn’t change what happened.”

Dunne’s tone turned icy, “Doesn’t it? Sounds like a lovers’ quarrel spiraled out of control-”

“Objection!” Hale’s voice shot through the air. “He is very clearly badgering the witness!” The judge raised a hand to silence her but before he could speak, Y/N cut through the noise, trembling with fury.

“You’re twisting everything.”

She spoke out fury evident in her tone, her voice shaking but loud.

“You’re a liar- just like him!”

Y/N’s chest heaved, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. Dune only smirked, adjusting his tie as if nothing had happened. The judge leaned forward,

“Mr. Dune, that is enough”

Dune turned back to Y/N, his tone smooth and controlled, “Of course, Your Honor.”

But the damage was done, the girl’s outburst hung in the air, and the jury couldn’t unhear the crack in her composure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that presses against your chest, making it hard to breathe. Every pair of eyes is glued to the jury foreman, waiting for the decision that will reverberate through this entire room. Y/N can feel her heart pounding in her throat, a frantic pulse that’s almost too loud, drowning out everything else. Rafe sits beside her, his presence solid and unwavering but she can feel the tension radiating from him, the barely-contained fury in every muscle of his body. His jaw is tight, the tendons in his neck straining as if he’s holding onto something just barely within his control. His hand is close- so close- that if she reaches out, just a little, her fingers might brush against his skin again. She couldn’t help herself- she needed to ask, needed to hear something from him, even if it was just a faint whisper in the chaos of everyone else’s conversations in the court,

"Do you think they’ll believe us?"

Her voice trembled slightly, barely audible above the stillness of the room, her eyes searching his face for any sign of reassurance. Rafe didn’t look at her at first, his gaze fixed on the jury foreman as he shifted, preparing to speak. His fingers twitched, his hand inching closer to hers, it wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to know he’s registered her words.

"They can’t ignore what they saw."

He said quietly, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions surrounding him. Y/N’s chest constricted, her breath shaky as the words lingered between them. She wanted to believe him. She needed to. But doubt still gnawed at her, a silent whisper in the back of her mind that she couldn’t quite shake.

"What if they don’t?"

The question slipped from her lips before she could stop it, her voice a plea for comfort. Rafe finally turned his head, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment but the look in his gaze wasn’t filled with certainty. He leaned in just slightly, his voice low so only she could hear.

"Then we’ll find another way alright?"

For a moment, everything else in the room faded into the background. The chaos, the noise, the tension- all of it seemed to dissolve in the weight of his words. As the room fell silent again, the tension thickening, they both held onto that promise, like a quiet understanding between them. The foreman stood, the chair scraping against the cold floor like a whisper from the depths of hell. She catches his eye, and he sent her a small smile, and for a moment she feels relieved at his warmth.

He clears his throat, the noise sharp in the otherwise still room.

"We, the jury, find the defendant, Cooper Miller, not guilty on all charges."

Her vision blurs for a moment, everything spinning.

-what?

Fuck

The room fractures, its very foundation shattering under the strain of the verdict. On Cooper’s side, relief ripples through the crowd- murmured sighs, quiet clapping, the soft rustling of people shifting in their seats. Their smugness is palpable, every movement a reminder of the victory they’ve claimed.

The room fractures, its very foundation shattering under the strain of the verdict. On Cooper’s side, relief ripples through the crowd- murmured sighs, clapping, the soft rustling of people shifting in their seats. Their smugness is palpable, every movement a reminder of the victory they’ve claimed. Y/N can practically feel the weight of their self-satisfaction pressing down on her, suffocating her.

However behind her, disbelief spreads like wildfire through the crowd. Gasps cut through the air, followed by angry murmurs and the sound of chairs scraping against the floor at the back of the court room as people began to rise, fists clenched in protest. A woman near the back of the room shouts, her voice raw with fury.

"This is a joke!"

Her words hang in the air, poisonous, cutting through the tension like a knife. Yet this time Y/n couldn’t bring herself to turn around and see who it was. It’s like a spark in a haystack, and the fire quickly spreads. Another voice, joins in, rising from angry protests,

"You can’t just let him walk free, he’s a fucking criminal!"

She could tell whose voice it was, the blonde Pogue boy’s tone was infuriated as Kiara had to pull him back from one of the Kooks’ on the other side who was now squaring up to him. The room erupts, people are on their feet, shouting, arguing, gesturing wildly. The anger is palpable, a volatile mix of disbelief and outrage. The once orderly silence of the courtroom now a chaotic, swirling mess of voices, each more desperate than the last.

"ORDER! Order in this courtroom!"

But the noise only grows louder. A few people in the gallery shout even louder, their voices rising against the judge’s command.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

The room falls into stunned silence, but the tension lingers in the air, thick and heavy.

Y/N’s chest tightens as though someone’s wrapped a vice around her ribs. It feels like she can’t breathe, as though the space between them is closing in, suffocating her. She forces her gaze back to Rafe, her heart aching as she tries to gauge what he’s feeling. But his expression is unreadable- his face set like stone, his jaw clenched tight, every muscle in his body drawn taut with the weight of everything hanging in the balance.

She can feel the raw, seething anger radiating off him. It pulses in the air, but what terrifies her most is how controlled he is. How silent. He’s standing tall, but every inch of him is coiled, ready to snap.

Her eyes flicker around and find Cooper’s across the courtroom. His smirk is slow and deliberate- an unsettling mix of arrogance and triumph. He adjusts his cufflinks, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on her. There’s a challenge there, an almost cruel satisfaction in the way he watches her. Y/N’s heart hammers in her chest, but she doesn’t break eye contact. She can’t. The way he’s looking at her- like he’s waiting for her to crumble, to fall apart in front of him- it stirs something in her.

Anger?

Fear?

She isn’t sure. All she knows is that she won’t give him the satisfaction.

Rafe’s gaze flickers toward her for a split second, the smallest movement. There’s something in his eyes that softens, just for a moment, before the storm picks up again. He shifts his position, edging closer, his body angling toward hers subconsciously. The small, tender gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by her and it makes the ache in her chest worse. Before she can process the moment, the judge’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife,

"Now, regarding the matter of aggravated assault- Mr. Cameron, stand."

Y/N watches as Rafe stands, every line of his body taut with tension. His posture is so stiff, his shoulders squared, she knows him well enough to see that he’s holding it together by a thread. His eyes stay forward, focused, but there’s an undercurrent of something raw, beneath the calm surface.

Her throat tightens as she watches him, and for the briefest of moments, she feels an overwhelming urge to reach out- to grab his hand, to make sure he knows she’s there, that she’s not going anywhere. But the space between them is too vast, too fragile.

This is my fault

"Given the severity of the assault and the circumstances, this court sentences you to two years of probation, mandatory anger management classes, and community service. Any violation will result in immediate incarceration. Do you understand?"

Rafe doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t blink. He simply answers, his voice steady, devoid of any emotion.

"I understand."

Y/N swallows hard. It’s not a prison. It’s not the worst-case scenario. But it feels like a punishment all the same. His voice, though calm, rings in her ears. She doesn’t know if she can stand it- he’s been given a sentence that will follow him everywhere, haunting him like a shadow. But he doesn't react, doesn't show the crack in his armour.

Not even a flicker of emotion.

Then, she feels it. A shift. Cooper leans back in his seat, that smug look still on his face, but now his gaze turns toward Rafe. It’s a brief look, almost imperceptible, but it’s enough. Rafe’s eyes snap to him in return, the moment stretching like a taut wire ready to snap. Cooper’s smirk widens, and Y/N feels her heart rate pick up, there’s something in the way Cooper looks at Rafe- a silent dare, a challenge.

A threat, maybe.

She can feel the tension crackling between them, Cooper’s lips curl into a mocking smile, but Rafe, he doesn’t flinch. His expression is harder now, something fierce burning behind his eyes. He stares back at Cooper, daring him to make the next move, daring him to cross that invisible line that’s drawn between them.

"Court is adjourned."

The gavel slams down, but the noise is almost drowned out by the pounding of Y/N’s heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame @kundaquarius @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @lilithblackkk @sunny1616 @slut-4-gojo @louxmcl @stelleduarte @p0gue420 @maybanksgirl69 @godharryz

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ale-wosofan · 11 months ago

Text

I love you

Alexia x R

R realizes she’s in love with her girlfriend

warnings: none!

a/n: just something I wrote after seeing Alexia up close during a game and realizing I might actually be in love with her. Almost a thousand words of pure fluff. Enjoy!

-----

The smell of coffee and sound of Spanish music playing wake you up. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you stretch your limbs, taking your time to enjoy your morning before having to get up.

After a few more minutes you finally decide to leave your bed. Taking a hoodie and putting it on, you walk into the kitchen. The sight you find, however makes you stop in your tracks.

Alexia is cooking –what seems to be– breakfast for the two of you, which is not weird at all. Except it is because she’s doing it in your shirt.

This shouldn’t surprise you as much as it does, considering the two of you are at your house and Alexia wasn’t planning on staying the night. But there’s something about seeing your girlfriend wearing your clothes that just makes sense. You feel warmth spreading all through your body and can’t help but stare at her a little bit longer, trying to memorize the scene in front of you.

“You could be helping me instead of looking at me,” Alexia’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts “Buenos días, amor.”

“Good morning,” you answer smiling at her, still a little distracted.

Alexia lets out a laugh at how zoned out you seem to be and suddenly it hits you.

You’re in love with her.

You don’t know for sure what makes you realize it; maybe it was sleeping in the same bed as her, waking up to the sound of her cooking in your kitchen, seeing her in your clothes, or simply the domesticity of it all.

“Amor?” you hum at your girlfriend’s question “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“Yeah, yeah, I just- I forgot I told my sister I would call her when I woke up,” you lie “so I should probably do it before we have breakfast.”

“Oh, alright. Okay, you do that and I’ll finish cooking in the meantime,” she answers walking up to you and leaving a kiss on your forehead.

As soon as you’re out of earshot you take your phone begging the universe your sister will pick up.

“Hello?” you hear a very sleepy voice ask.

“Help. I need help.”

“Well, that’s obvious. I’m surprised it has taken you this long to realize,” you roll your eyes at your sister's antics “What is it?”

Taking a deep breath and making an effort to lower your voice, you try not to think about it too much before opening your mouth to answer.

“I’m in love with Alexia. But, like, really in love. I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest every time she looks at me, or smiles at me, or touches me. I love the sound of her laugh, and how calm she looks in the mornings. I love that we’re the complete opposite and yet we complement each other perfectly. She’s just- I’m- I don’t know. I’ve been in love before, but this feeling? This feels fucking amazing, like something I’ve never felt, like I had never truly lived until I met her, you know? And now everything just makes perfect sense because she’s by my side,” you stop for a moment trying to gather your thoughts because you’re not sure you’re making a lot of sense right now “We’ve only been dating for a few months, but I’ve woken up today and she was there, standing in my kitchen, wearing my clothes and cooking breakfast for me and I just knew it. I love her.”

There’s silence at the other end of the line for a few minutes. You’re about to hang up thinking your sister has fallen asleep when she speaks again.

“Well, it seems to me like you already know how you feel. Now you just need to tell your girlfriend.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” you ask frustrated “I don’t even know if she feels the same way!”

“You’re even more of an idiot than I thought,” you hear your sister mumble “That woman loves you, probably more than you think. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t realized you love her until this moment. Now, about how to tell her? I have no idea, but you figure it out, I’m going to sleep.”

And just like that your sister hangs up.

You walk back into the kitchen with no plan but determined to tell Alexia how you feel.

“Breakfast is almost ready, you should get the-”

“Alexia” you interrupt her.

Looking up, your girlfriend stops what she’s doing when she sees how serious you look and nods her head, indicating that you have her full attention.

“What is it? You just used my full name so it seems pretty important,” she says letting out a nervous laugh.

“No, it’s, um- it’s not anything bad, I promise” you move towards her and take her hands in yours “I just- I love you. And, listen, you don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same, but I just really needed you to know.”

You bite your lip waiting for an answer that doesn’t come. Instead, your girlfriend puts both of her hands in your cheeks, forcing you to look up at her. You barely have any time to process what is happening before her lips are on yours, kissing you with purpose. After a few seconds the two of you separate, Alexia resting her forehead against yours.

“I love you,” she whispers against your lips and letting out a laugh “So much.”

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso couples #woso fluff #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader

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sapphic-kpop-fics · 2 months ago

Text

Undercover (Hirai Momo x Reader)

Smut, fluff

Detective!Momo and Reader

Mentions of murder but nothing explicit, idk how being a detective works, overuse of “baby” probably, jealousy (yay), ends kinda abruptly I didn’t know how to end it

Sometimes your job as a detective is filled with the mundane, small crimes but not this week, it was different. A murder case, with many victims, and you had been at the office all week 24/7 and far enough away from home to have to get a hotel. Along with your work partner, Hirai Momo, you both worked tirelessly with no leads well until now when you’re in a conference room with your evidence board sitting and staring at Momo who was sitting across from you reading her files and working furiously on her computer trying to find a shred of evidence. You admit, she was very attractive, it was hard not to have a crush on the woman. Her black hair framed her face with bangs, she wore a suit without the tie and a pair of glasses. It was difficult to keep your eyes off her, all you could do was hope she didn’t notice your stares.

“I got it!” Momo exclaimed from her seat, breaking you from staring at her, “the connection, this nightclub, all of the victims were there in the weeks before their deaths. Maybe our suspect frequents or works there?”

“Y-yeah, it’s definitely something to follow. Good job Hirai.” You manage to get out as she looks at you in excitement from her discovery.

“I told you, call me Momo. I’d say we’re… friends so don’t be so formal.” She smiles, you don’t miss how she hesitates at the word friends. You had little moments with her, touches and looks like made you fill with hope that maybe she felt the same but you had always put them to the back of your mind as her just being friendly.

“O-okay. Well, Momo, what’s the plan?” Momo smiles at the use of her name.

“I’m generating a list of employees and frequent visitors so we know who to look for, and then I say we go undercover.”

“Is that necessary?”

“They don’t have cameras so It’s the easiest way to keep an eye out for weird behavior without spooking our potential suspect” she smiles, you had only started working as a detective a year ago which is when you were partnered with Momo as opposed to her 5 years of experience, “Why? Scared?” A teasing smirk on her lips.

“What!?! No.” Momo giggles at your response, “I’ve just…never done it before. Plus I can’t lie or act very well.”

“It’s easy, just be yourself without the cop part.” She says walking to your side of the table, “you’ll be fine, plus we’ll both be there together. It’s a gay club. Mostly rich couples, some singles looking to join said couples for their money.”

“Oh. So we..”

“Have to act like a couple. Yes.” She confirms, “is that okay?”

“I don’t have a problem with it.. but if you-“

“No no. I’m good.” Momo cuts you off and pauses for a moment, staring into your eyes before blinking out of it, “um- i should have that list of potential suspects soon so um until then, have anything nice to wear in your go bag? It’s a pretty…expensive place” She seemed more nervous now.

“Um, does a button up and jeans count?” You ask, that being your usual work attire and the only thing you keep in your go bag.

“Fortunately I prepared for this and I have an extra dress.” Momo was excited on the inside not only to see you in a dress, but to see you in her dress, “How about we go back to the hotel and clean up? I’ll leave the dress by your door.”

So you made your way to the hotel, Momo driving which was way more attractive than it should’ve been. Showering and doing some minor hair and make up, you check outside your door and as said there’s bag with a red dress, it was short and tight fitting leaving little to be imagined of your thighs. You wondered if this was the option she gave you, then what was she wearing. You didn’t have to wonder long as a knock on your door interrupted your thoughts, Momo stood on the other side a tight black dress, sleeveless with lace on the abdomen showing off her defined abs which you of course fixate on. Jewelry adorned her fingers and neck, rings highlighting her veined hands. You weren’t paying enough attention to notice Momo doing the same, eyes checking out the way her dress hugged your body, though she has the self control to pull her stare away.

“Um- should we go?” She says, making your eyes snap to her face, she was clearly amused at your staring though a bit flustered herself.

“Oh, yes.”

The car ride to the club proved difficult, Momo’s ringer finger resting on the wheel of the car as she drove, her dress raising on her thighs even more sitting in the drivers seat. It was hard not to look at her, your eyes barely leave her and when they do it’s only because of Momo’s gaze flickering over to you. A thick tension filled the car that made itself present since you left the hotel, the stolen glances (and/or stares) speak your feelings without words and now you don’t have to doubt if the attraction was mutual anymore. You pulled into the parking lot of the club, people scattered the side walk, all dressed up.

“Here’s the plan.” Momo starts after putting the car in park, “One of the customers here fits the profile, and I might’ve forgot to say that you’re kinda their ideal type..”

“Wh-“ you hadn’t even realized your resemblance to the victims until now.

“So I need you to lure them over and start a conversation.”

“Momo.”

“I know but you’ll do great.”

“I’ve never done this before, much less alone.”

Momo reaches over the console to grab your shaky hand, looking into your eyes, your heart skips a beat and your eyes flicker to her lips.

“I’ll be there the whole time, watching. If anything happens, I’m right there.” She assures, “After a you get some information, I’ll come in as your girlfriend, maybe get her number and then I’ll steal you away so we can leave, okay?”

There’s a calmness and overt confidence in her voice, a tone that makes you feel protected and a bit turned on. Your face flushes when she calls herself your girlfriend.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” You say looking away from her.

“Are you ready?” She asks, pausing for a few seconds watching your heavy breathing and shaky hands as you nervously prepare.

“No but, now or never.”

“Let’s go then.” Momo gets out of the car, as do you.

You don’t expect Momo to grab your hand, interlocking your fingers with a smile, looking away from you to open the door and holding it for you without disconnecting your hands.

“Stand at the bar, I’ll keep an eye on you from a distance.” She whispers in your ear when you’re inside, lips brushing against your skin as she’s way too close in order to sell the whole “in a relationship” thing, or at least that’s what she’s telling herself that it’s all pretend.

Momo walks away to find a place with a good viewpoint of the bar, you take a deep breath before walking to the bar and taking a sit on a stool and ordering a drink, without alcohol as you’re still working. It’s not long before you lock eyes with a woman who is walking towards you with a smirk and Momo who was at a table behind her, nodding at you to indicate she was your suspect.

“Hi, I’m Kate. What’s your name?” The mysterious woman said as she sat in the seat next to you.

You just mutter “Jane”, a fake name of course as to not blow your cover.

“Pretty. Are you here alone?” Her finger circles her drinks glass.

“Uh, No. My girlfriend is.. in the bathroom.” You say as your eyes flicker to Momo who is intently watching.

“Even better. The more the merrier.”

An awkward silence fills the space before she speaks again.

“Until she gets back, can I buy you another drink?” The woman inches closer and a hand makes its way to your waist making you tense up.

“I’m good.” Once again you look to Momo, a save me look in your eyes while a jealous one is set in hers but she puts that aside to come to your aid.

“Are you s-“

The woman is cut off by Momo coming up to you, removing the woman’s hand from you and replacing it with her own which sends shivers up your spine.

“Hey baby, who’s this?” You could tell by Momo’s slightly clenched jaw and tightening grip on your waist that this wasn’t an act anymore.

“Kate.”

“You must be the girlfriend?”

“I am.” A flat smile on Momo’s face, you expected her to ask for a phone number or something like planned but her jealousy got in the way of her professionalism, “We should get going.” Her dark eyes lock onto yours making you nod in response.

“Before you go, you should take this.” She holds out a piece of paper, “One of you should call me, or both.” She adds with a wink.

It’s clear she’s holding the paper out to you but Momo takes it between her fingers with a tight lipped smile before grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the door. She walks fast, almost too fast for you to keep up even as she guides you with her hand gripping yours, she only slows when you stop completely and her hand holding yours is met with resistance when you don’t let her pull you along.

“What?” She asks, her usual nice tone gone.

“Slow down. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Why you didn’t continue with the plan, get more information?”

“We got her number, which means we can get her identity.” Her voice flat before she turns to walk away again.

You follow, silently sitting in the passenger seat and immediately turning to look out the window instead of her. I mean you knew she was jealous, doesn’t mean you have to be happy with how she reacts or the fact that she won’t just admit it.

Your arms cross over your chest while there’s a light pout on your lips while she drives the short distance to your hotel, while Momo found it adorable she still couldn’t help the annoyance she felt as she thought about the woman’s hand on you. But she couldn’t help but apologize after seeing the sad look in your eye.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t answer.

“I shouldn’t have acted like that.”

Still nothing. She knew you could be stubborn but a disagreement never caused you to ignore her. She sighed as she pulled into the parking lot of your hotel, putting the car in park before turning to look at you leaning her back against her door.

“I was jealous okay?” This got your attention making you finally look at her, “the way she looked at you and talked to you and… touched you.” She spat out the last part like it was a piece of food that tasted bad with her hands forming into fists, “I didn’t like it. At all.” Your partners jaw clenched at even the thought of someone else touching you.

“You could’ve just said that.” A smile pulls at the edges of your lips, “Did you suggest going undercover just so we can pretend to be girlfriends?” You ask putting an elbow on the console as your chin rests in your hand, confidence filling you at her confession.

“Shut up.” Momo says shaking her head with a smile, but she grabs your face and pulls you into a kiss. It turns heated quickly, months of tension being put into it. Teeth hit against each other, tongues sliding against the other, and lips being bruised, “My room?” She breathes out after finally pulling away, hastily opening her car door and making her way to the entrance when you nod.

You follow her movements, jogging a little to catch up as you giggle at her eagerness. She grabs your hand when you appear by her side, once again dragging you along but this time with desire and neediness. The woman leads you to the elevator where her lips are immediately on yours again, pushing you against the wall, a hand falling to your thigh and pushing the edge of your dress up a bit. Her lips move to your neck, you can feel her making a mark which you’re definitely going to yell at her for later though she’s interrupted by the elevator stopping and a few people waiting outside making her detach from you quickly and once again pulls you to follow her out the doors. You mutter an apology to the people as you pass them, you quickly arrive at Momo’s room and she scrambles to pick her key card out of the little purse she’s carrying. You huff impatiently as she can’t find it for a minute, finally she pulls the card out and quickly opens her door and pulls you inside using your body to shut the door.

Her lips are attached to yours in an instant, hands roaming over the exposed skin of your legs eventually playing with the hem of your dress.

“I wanna see you.” She mumbles against your ear between kisses on your neck, fingers gliding a bit under your dress, “Please?” Her hands resting on the fabric as she waits for you to respond.

“Go ahead.” Your voice is weak at her utter desire for you.

She pulls you by both hands so you’re by the bed, “turn around.” A soft demand that you follow, her fingers finding the zipper on the back of your dress and pulling at it, letting the clothing fall to the floor. As the dress is strapless, you opted to not wear bra, a fact that Momo can’t get past so her hands move to your shoulders to turn you to face her.

Her eyes, which were taken up by her blown pupils, go to your now exposed chest. In a wave of confidence you grab her hands and put them on your chest, sighing as her cold rings meet you warm skin.

“Lay on the bed.” Her tone makes your core ache with need.

As you lay there, Momo stands at the end of the bed, at first just staring at you like a lion hunting its prey and letting her eyes wander, eventually her stares get to your underwear which have a visible wet spot on them. Then she starts taking her rings off, one by one, three on each hand and she sets them on the dresser in front of her. Crawling up the bed a smile settles on her face when she reaches your face.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” She whispers as her lips brush against yours, “Since you got partnered with me.” Finally pressing her lips into yours when she finishes speaking, the kiss is softer now, “Always so pretty.” Mouth moving to your jaw and neck, once again leaving marks that you’ll bring up later.

“Momo. Please.” Her soft words mixed with her lips making you impatient for her touch, you can feel her smile against your skin at your begging.

“Want me to touch you baby?” She whispers, her lips once again wandering this time down to your chest, tongue swirling around one of the peaks and her fingers squeezing any skin she could find, brushing over your slit when she reaches your thighs.

“Fuck.” A breathy moan accompanied by your hips bucking up into hers, though her own legs serve as a barrier holding you down mostly, “Don’t tease.” A desperate plea, hoping her eagerness would make her give in. Lucky for you she’s easily persuaded.

Momo’s finger find their way to your underwear, hooking under the waistband and pulling them off quickly throwing them to the side. Her dark eyes fixate on your center making you squeeze your thighs together, though her large hands don’t let that slide very long.

“Spread your legs baby. Don’t be shy. You’re so pretty.” She says softly, voice thick with desire, hands sliding down to your knees to begin pulling them apart.

When your legs are parted fully and you’re on display for the woman to see, she uses her thumbs to pull your folds apart, her mouth opening slightly at the sight of you practically dripping for her.

“So wet.” She says mostly to herself as if you’re not there, her pointer finger teases your slit, “All for me, right?” The earlier jealousy seeping in again.

“All yours.”

Whether you’re talking about the wetness dripping off of you or you entirely, or maybe (definitely) both. Momo starts moving her index finger up and down on your clit, incredibly slowly you think. Moving so she’s face to face with you, fingers still working you while her other hand rest next to your head.

“All mine." Lips brushing against yours as she speaks, “my pretty girl.”

Little whimpers leave your mouth at her words and the little circles her finger is making, your hips moving off the mattress to get more pressure or to get her to go faster, causing the tip of her finger to go into your entrance making a gasp fall from your lips while hand clutch onto her clothed back though she doesn’t leave her finger there for long.

“More.” You eventually get out in between moans, giving her your best puppy dog eyes, “Need you inside.”

“Yeah? Want my fingers princess?” Head tilting as her blown pupils never leave yours, lust fills them and you know no matter what you say she’ll do whatever you ask for.

“Just fuck me already.”

You barely finish the sentence before she’s slipping two fingers inside of you, not giving you time to adjust before moving them at a mild pace, not giving in fully.

“Feel good, baby?” A smirk takes over her face as she looks at you, your head leaning back as your back arches a bit off the mattress accompanied by a loud moan leaving your mouth.

“Mm. So-. Fuck. So good.” You manage to get out, “Don’t stop.” Followed by a string of muttered pleases as you stuff your face in the space between her neck and shoulder, a hand tangling in her black hair to bring her closer if possible.

“You’re doing so good, you know?” Her praise going straight to your core, “My good girl.” The possessive nature of her words makes your mind even fuzzier than it already is, “look at me, baby.” Her other hand coming up to lift your chin so you meet her eyes, “I wanna see how hard I make you cum.”

“‘M so close.” Embarrassingly close for how little she’s been touching you, you didn’t care and you knew Momo didn’t care with how her pace sped up at your words eager to make you finish.

“Cum for me baby.” It’s almost as if she’s begging, eyes locked onto your face wanting to see your every reaction, “I got you.” She whispers as your body shakes underneath her, you let out a string of curses in between whimpers of her name. Her fingers still working you as you come down from your high only stopping when you reach a hand to grab her wrist with a whine. Your chest heaves as you recover, sweat covers your body along with purple and red mark. Momo looks down to you, eyes filled with adoration and a small smile on her lips.

“You okay?”

“Very.”

Your hands go to the hem of her dress to mess with it, pulling slightly.

“Let me touch you.”

“Whatever you want.”

And she kept her word, you got whatever you wanted for the night, whether it was her making you cum 3 more times or eating her out until she can’t take anymore. Though you eventually pass out, tangled together in her bed with bare bodies flush against each other.

You only wake up to the buzz of Momo’s alarm scheduled for 7 AM every morning (even weekends and off days), which she shuts off quickly before pulling you back into her.

“Good morning.” She rasps out, voice vibrating on the skin of your neck.

“Morning.” You mutter half asleep

After a few minutes when you’re about to fall back asleep Momo playfully mutters, “God, this is gonna cause so much paperwork.” Making you lightly hit her but you giggle anyways, “it’s worth it though.” She smiles when you finally open your eyes at her.

“Maybe I should text Kate and thank her, for making you jealous enough to make the first move.”

“Absolutely not.”

She kisses you with a playful jealousy, knowing you wouldn’t dream of being with anyone else.

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