#might have to plan chapter 11 today

[tmnt-reticent]

Reticent is rotting my brain rn SEND HELP

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Waking Up in Vegas"

Prologue, Chapter one:, Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4:

ok guys! we're back and reader's hot girl summer has started! Sorry I was gonna put this chapter out earlier today but i've just been so busy today plus i'm cooking up a 3rd part for "older" I got my period AND i have a math test and english essay coming up. If some parts don't make sense, its on purpose. Reader is disoriented and drunk half the time, the days blur together for her. Lmk what yall think of readers hot girl summer and what you want/think will happen in the next chapter .Sorry for any mistakes! Comments, reblogs and ASKS make my dayyyy and encourage me.

Saint-Tropez wasn’t just a place, it was a playground, a haven for those who didn’t care about consequences or anyone else’s rules.

And you? Well, you were done with rules.

For the last two weeks, you’d been living like this, untouchable, free, and completely lying to your family.

You had told Bruce you were staying with Ariel and her father, which was true, for the first two days anyway.

Ariel's father is a busy man, he couldn't take 2 and a half months off work to babysit two 16 year olds who would do what they wanted anyway. As soon as he left, Ariel began calling your two other close friends, Claire and Rory. Together, all four of you were unstoppable at school though it was an unspoken rule that you and Ariel were the dynamic duo. All four of you stayed in Ariel's ocean front villa, relaxing, tanning, and just getting settled.

God, let's not even start on how drastically everything changed while you were at boarding school and the family found out Tiffany's true colors. They were all so.....protective now. You got calls everyday, from each of your 'siblings' separately, dozens of texts asking you what you ate, who you were with, and what you were doing. You didn't entertain them. The only person you replied to was Bruce, and that's only because you knew if he wanted to, he could call off this whole trip.

You didn't answer Tim's random, vague questions like, "Who's that on your story? Do you know them? Are you sure they're safe to be with?" He was asking about a simple sunset dinner picture you posted with Ariel, so you blocked him. He's way too nosy.

You didn't reply to the groupchat the girls, Barbra, Steph, and Cass added you in called "The girls!!"

What a creative name!

You left after you saw 'Tiffany was removed from this conversation'. Maybe you were being petty but they obviously had this chat before and didn't bother to add you to it before Tiffany was exposed. It was your turn to ignore them.

You definitely didn't reply to Damian's outright threatening messages that he sent almost every other day, they all sounded something along the lines of "You will regret this. You cannot simply leave and run away from your family. Come home or else."

He's such a strange little boy, he spoke and acted like an angry Victorian prince. He texted you like you were close before, like it wasn't him who pushed you away. You were coming back in two months and yet he acted like ran away and changed your name.

Jason, Bruce, and Dick were the most consistent and annoying, in that order exactly.

Jason texted you every morning at 8 and every night 11, like clockwork. His texts were daily updates what he was planning on doing that day, asking you the same, and reminding you that he's sorry and that he loves you. It tugged at your heart not to answer him, and sometimes, you gave in and you could feel the joy in his response when you replied. You and Jason's conversations went like this, on the odd occasion you replied,

"Good morning." - Jason

"How are you? No trouble in paradise I hope."- Jason

"My days gonna be pretty dull today, nothing much except patrol. Might go to that bookstore you used to like." - Jason

Your cold heart would melt when he said things like that and you would reply,

"awww! jason, thats so sweet." and follow with "I'm good!! how bout you??? staying out of trouble?"

Jason was your softest spot and he knew it.

Bruce texted you three times a day. Morning, afternoon, and evening. His messages were dry and authorative, demanding answers. He wanted to know who you were with, what you were doing, if you left the house, and if you were okay. The fatherly care and authority isn't something your used to, it was strange. You weren't sure if you felt cared for or suffocated. You answered Bruce once a day, your tone straight to the point, answering only what he asked, nothing more.

Dick is by far the worst. He texted you constantly, as if trying to make up for 11 years of not texting you at all. He texted you when he woke up, when he slept, when he ate, what he ate, and sent you pictures of everything. Once he sent you a picture of a tiny bird saying it reminded him of you. You nearly blocked him after that, the only reason you didn't was because you liked how desperate he was. Not long ago, it was you spamming him like that. Plus he can be funny most of the time. You don't even want to think of the constant selfies he sent. You only ever replied once.

Dick sent a selfie of him hanging with some of the Titans, you forgot why or what he said along with it, but you do remember seeing Connor Kent shirtless in the background. You giggled and showed Ariel how hot he is. You replied to Dick almost instantly hearting the picture, screen shotting it, and drawing a heart around Connor saying something like, "WHO DAT IN THE BACK????" and "Tell superboy to hmu".

Dick was not happy about that, that was the last group selfie he ever sent. He got more frequent with his texts after that. He must've snitched to Jason because not even five minutes after you got a text from him.

"Remember what I said. No boys, i'll kick his ass." - Jason

You ignored him of course.

The sun beat down in the south of France, but you were far from concerned with the blistering heat. Not when there was a private yacht at your disposal, a poolside filled with strangers and familiar faces alike, and the soundtrack of Drake keeping your pulse racing. You felt the vibration of your phone against your palm for the third time in ten minutes. Another text from Bruce. He was becoming more insistent you answer him the longer you were gone. It's only been two weeks! Another "where are you?" or "be careful." As if you were gonna listen. Or reply to him.

Bruce. The man who'd ignored you for the better part of your life, suddenly acting like a worried father because Tiffany, the perfect sister, had betrayed them all. Tiffany, the adopted daughter who had somehow replaced you in their world. Now, she was the enemy, the traitor, the spy, and she was gone. That meant you had all the freedom you could ever want.

The more you thought about Tiffany the angrier you got. She had everything. How many summers has she spent on yatchs partying? How many times has she blown thousands of Bruce's dollars? Why were you forgiving them so easily? Why were you even listening to him?

Just because he apologized and said he'd change?

Why should you forgive Jason so easily and respect his rules, he ignored you for years and replaced you with Tiffany. The more you drank, the more you thought and the angrier you got. Who do they think they are? You've always been too nice, too obedient, and they're still taking advantage of it. You'd show them, show them what its like to be ignored and forgotten and made fun of.

For the next two months, you were going to ignore them. Bruce and jason included. You've been too nice, too good these two weeks, your friends were begging to party but you didn't want to, you were scared of disappointing them.

You were so angry nothing changed in you that you finally caved and decided to do what Claire and Rory were doing, give your phone to a worker here and have them turn the location on and send updates to Bruce. You still used the same icloud so you could read their messages and make sure they weren't suspicous.

He'd think you were always at the villa or just going into town, they won't know what hit them.

You turn to Ariel and grin, "I'm free. What are we doing tonight?" You were done obeying their rules and living your life for them. Who knows when you'd be alone in Europe with your best friends again.

Ariel hopped off her chair and squealed, her dark skin glowing from the sun, she grabbed you and twirled you around, your giggles echoing through the yacht and drawing Claire and Rory's attention.

Ariel grinned and explained to Rory and Claire, "Little Miss good girl finally came to her senses and went M.I.A with her dad. Now we can finally party! Hot girl summer starts now."

All three girls start squealing and join Ariel in her celebration.

You rolled your eyes feeling guilty, "I told you, you could've gone without me!"

Ariel wrapped her arm around you, "Nonsense, it's not a party without you. Now, come on we gotta go shopping if we're going out tonight. It's lucky that we both have daddy's black cards. It's really lucky that they have Dior, Hermes, and YSL down the street."

You weren't sure how much you spent and the drinks kept you from feeling guilty. Bruce is like, a bajilionaire, what you spent won't make a dent.

Somehow, you ended up on an even bigger yacht filled with guys, in your brand new Dior bikini with a matching bag.

By the time night fell, the yacht was buzzing, the VIP lounge overrun by people who hadn’t even been invited. The bass was so loud you felt it in your bones. You didn’t care. You've never felt so alive.

Your new phone wasn't getting any messages except DMs, and the woman you hired confirming Bruce thought you were sound asleep in the villa.

You can practically taste the summer air as you step onto the deck of the boat, laughing with Ariel and your friends and the others you’ve met along the way. No one cares about where you’ve been, where you’re going, or who your family is.

As the DJ cranks up the volume, a cute guy with long blonde hair catches your eye. You wink at him and saunter over. This summer is all about freedom, and you’re ready for it. His hands are already on your waist, pulling you close, and suddenly you’re lost in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, his lips brushing against your ear.

The night wears on, you drink more, laugh louder, flirt harder. The yacht turns into a blur of lights, drinks, and music. As midnight rolls around, the party shows no signs of slowing. You could stay here forever, with no rules but your own.

But then it happens. You wake up in a completely different city.

London.

You’re sprawled on a plush couch in a ridiculously luxurious flat, a half-empty bottle of champagne next to you. The room smells like expensive perfume, and the decor is all sleek lines and minimalist chic. You sit up slowly, your head pounding from last night.

You sit up straighter, rubbing your eyes.You vaguely remember a private jet, but it’s all blurry. One moment, you were on the deck of the yacht, living it up, and the next, you're waking up in an entirely new country.

You look around the room in panic and spot Ariel sleeping on the couch and a random guy, butt naked on the floor next to her. You sigh in relief at Ariel being okay and the fact you weren't kidnapped.

There’s a knock at the room door, and when you answer, it's a random guy from last night, British accent, disheveled hair, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He grins at you sheepishly. “Hey, you good?”

You, Ariel, the naked boy named Christian, and the Brit named Thomas, have breakfast and exchange stories of what you remember from last night. It was fun, but you and Ariel flew back to St. Tropez where a jealous Claire and a worried Rory were waiting.

Last night was fun, but it couldn't happen again. It was dangerous and if anything happened Bruce wouldn't know.

Except it did happen again, and again, all summer long.

The next weeks were a blur, Venice, Monaco, and Madrid, with stops in Dubai and Los Angeles along the way. Each city more vibrant and intoxicating than the last. Every place you went, you had the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be. There was always a fresh crop of people, and you reveled in not having to answer to anyone. No father, no brothers, no sisters, just you and your friends against the world.

You and Ariel lived your lives like you were gonna die tomorrow. You were unstoppable, no family, no rules, no responsibility. Your abilities weren't acting up at all, everything was perfect. Bruce and the family were off your back, being made to think you were at the villa all day.

The “No Boys Rule” was completely disregarded, though. It seemed that whenever you let your guard down for just a moment, you’d end up surrounded by someone new. Whether it was a guy from a club in Monaco or a guy you met on a private yacht in Venice, you were always finding someone new

Despite all the parties, the alcohol, and the private Instagram posts, and funny Tik Toks, there was still a growing sense that you weren’t living this life for you, you were living it for the rebellion, to spite Bruce.

It wasn’t just about freedom anymore. It was about finally being seen, even if that meant drifting away from everyone you once called family.

You only had one month left of absolute freedom, and you were gonna make the most of it. With Ariel, Rory, and Claire by your side, you partied in just about every city.

The final month of your wild European escapade had arrived, and things were only getting wilder.

The clock had no meaning anymore. Days and nights blended into each other as you danced from one city to the next, your world a whirlwind of music, champagne, and endless laughter. Ariel, Rory, and Claire had become your partners in crime, literally when you got arrested, but thats not important.

Each morning you woke up in a new place, groggy and confused, only to remember the night before—flashing lights, pounding beats, and the promise of more. Cannes, Monte Carlo, Paris, or Dubai, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the freedom you’d found in them, and in yourself. You were more than the neglected, ignored girl from Gotham; now, you were the life of the party.

there was always someone waiting to whisk you away to the next nightclub, the next gala, the next beach party where the world’s richest men tried to get your attention.

First, it was Paris. You could feel the eyes on you as soon as you entered the hotel lobby. The air smelled of expensive perfume, freshly polished marble, and the faintest trace of guilt, because in some corner of your mind, you could still hear Bruce’s voice echoing in your ears. But it quickly faded as the first private yacht rolled up to the dock. The deck was crowded with Parisian socialites and half-drunk billionaires, but it wasn’t about the crowd, it was about the feeling of being wanted. Being worshipped.

It was in Paris that you really started feeling the distance between you and the life you’d left behind. The champagne flowed easily, the laughter came effortlessly, but there was an ache you hadn’t anticipated. A pang that struck at the edges of your satisfaction, the kind you couldn’t drink away.

You thought about Bruce. His pleading words, his desperation, and how, for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. But only for a moment. You couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t let them see that you’d needed them. Because that would mean giving up everything you had now, the freedom, the endless nights, the city hopping, the boys who adored you.

You let it all sink in, just for a second, how much control you had over them now. How much they wanted you back, how much they needed you back. It felt good, knowing that you could walk away and have them chase after you, like you used to chase them.

Maybe it was the brief, fleeting moments when you thought about Gotham, about Bruce, about your family, and how none of it felt real anymore. They’d played their games, ignored you, and now it was your turn.

Meanwhile, your phone was a constant buzz of messages. Tim had sent at least five texts, each one more urgent than the last. Jason called twice, his voice sharp and filled with that annoying overprotectiveness he just developed. And Bruce… well, Bruce sent you one long, pleading message, something about understanding, about giving him another chance, and answering his calls. You didn’t even bother reading it all. You didn’t need to. You didn’t care enough to respond.

You had no intention of being tied down by anyone, but when a French prince with dark, tousled hair and eyes that burned through your soul offered you a glass of champagne and a seat next to him, you took it.

You didn’t even have to look for him, he found you. He was the one with the perfect jawline, the one who could be a model if he wasn’t already a prince. His eyes, blue locked onto yours the second you entered the VIP area. A raised brow, a subtle smirk, and you knew that for tonight, he was yours.

You didn’t speak much. He didn’t ask questions, and that was the kind of energy you craved. A few words, some flirting, fleeting touches, and then you were in his Lambo, the leather seats smooth under your skin as the city sped by. He went as fast as you wanted, loving the thrill and impressed look in your eyes.

The thrill was intoxicating, the feeling of being someone else, someone free. The kind of person who didn’t have to answer to anyone. A few hours later, you were standing on a balcony, watching the sunrise, your lips tingling from the kiss he’d stolen.

Your mind was a haze of laughter and the aftertaste of expensive whiskey. The view of the French Riviera was far too beautiful to appreciate right now, and your thoughts wandered back to Gotham, to the family you’d abandoned, the ones who had never cared for you.

But as the days wore on, it was harder to ignore the hollow feeling creeping in. The message from Dick, the one where he told you that he loved you, stayed in your mind longer than it should have. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You didn’t owe him anything. But you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a second, what it would have been like if things were different.

You turned away from those thoughts quickly. You couldn’t afford to get attached. Not now. Not when you were on the verge of something bigger. The freedom you had now was everything you wanted. No one could take that from you.

You couldn’t let them control you. You wouldn’t let them.

You and Ariel were inseparable now, pulling Claire and Rory into your whirlwind of recklessness. You all had your roles, Ariel was the carefree partier, Claire the quiet one who always managed to keep ya'll out of trouble, and Rory was the one always ready with a camera and a new Tik Tok idea. You were the star, the one they all gravitated toward.

Each day was a new city, a new set of challenges, a new set of eyes who wanted to be close to you. You knew the game, knew how to play it. You knew how to keep them guessing, how to make them want you more.

So, you danced. You partied. You lived in the moment and let your life spiral further from Gotham’s grasp.

From there, it was off to the next city.

Las Vegas; Sin City, there was no place like it. You couldn’t even remember how you got there, your mind fuzzy with a mix of adrenaline and whatever was in that last glass of tequila. The strip was lit up like daylight, people everywhere, the air thick with smoke and the sound of slot machines ringing through the night.

You woke up in a penthouse suite that could have been mistaken for an entire floor of the Bellagio, the morning sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And there he was, a prince. The same French prince, draped in a robe embroidered with gold thread, a fresh glass of mimosas on the table beside him. He was smirking, lounging on the couch like this was all part of his daily routine. You couldn’t even remember how you got to the suite. What had happened between the bar and now? You didn’t care.

He didn’t seem to care either, his hand casually tracing the rim of his glass, his eyes never leaving you. You laughed, feeling the surrealness of it all wash over you, the weight of your last 48 hours in Ibiza and Monaco still fresh on your skin. One minute, you were dancing at a celebrity’s secret after-party in Monaco, and the next, you were here, on the other side of the world with some mysterious prince who had probably already forgotten your name.

The rest of the night was spent taking private jet rides to exclusive clubs, partying with people whose names you couldn’t even pronounce, and waking up to the flashing lights of a casino floor. Vegas was the kind of place where everything felt fake, but that didn’t matter. You really are Brucie Wayne's daughter.

Next stop, Ibiza, the heart of Europe’s clubbing scene. Ariel and you slipped into the club, stepping past the velvet ropes like it was second nature. The security guard practically bowed as you walked by. The crowd parted for you, the clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of expensive conversations filling the air.

This was where you belonged. The heat of the island, the night that stretched into forever. You and Ariel danced on top of the table at Pacha, popping bottles like they were nothing, the music vibrating in your bones, the crowd chanting your name like you were the star of the show. It was your second night there, and you had already met a Spanish duke who was more interested in buying you a yacht than actually getting to know you. There was white powder everywhere, tempting you to try but you didn't give in. Who knows what could be in it. Your friends and most people at the club didn't share the same idea.

You just wanted to enjoy the view and keep the party going but you were worried, maybe this was too much.

“we’ve got to live for the moment,” Ariel grinned, taking a shot of something that made her eyes water. “Who cares if we’re in a foreign country surrounded by dangerous people? It’s the best kind of chaos. When else are we gonna do this?”

Somehow you ended up on a private yacht again, this time surrounded by Ibiza’s elite. You weren’t sure how many shots of tequila you’d had, but you knew that the man at your side had given you a diamond bracelet to match your dress. You accepted with a grin asking him to put it on for you, your hair wild, your makeup smudged from hours of dancing, but it didn’t matter. You were untouchable.

It was getting close to 3 AM, and the music hadn’t stopped. The drinks kept flowing, and the Duke’s yacht you somehow ended up on was finally leaving the dock. You couldn’t remember how you ended up on the boat, but you were there now, floating on a million-dollar boat with peopl you’d only seen on TV. One of the men from the night before was already making eye contact, his glass of sangria in hand.

It was hard to be shy in a setting like this. Rory, who’d never been afraid of attention, was deep in conversation with a couple of supermodels who were likely on their third or fourth drink. Claire was wrapped up in a flirtation with the duke who owned this yacht, and Arie was in her own world, laughing with a group of guys who were definitely not short on cash.

The next morning, you woke up on the yacht, the sun blazing over the Mediterranean. You stretched lazily, your body still buzzing from the night before, and found yourself face-to-face with the man from last night.

He smirked, “Care for another round?” he asked, his accent thick, the sound of the waves crashing against the boat providing an oddly peaceful background.

You laughed and agreed. It was all so easy, this life. This endless, carefree abandon. No rules, no family to answer to, no obligations. It was just you, your friends, and a bunch of gorgeous strangers who only saw you for the party girl you had become. And for now, that was enough.

Next, Monaco, the grandest of them all. You didn’t just go to Monaco, you ruled it. You, Ariel, Claire and Rory crashing the most exclusive gala in the world; rich industrialists, F1 drivers ,tech moguls, the faces that appeared on the front of every magazine. But to you, it was just another game to play. Every conversation was a carefully curated performance, everyone vying for your attention, for your approval.

The days blurred together. Each city more beautiful, each party more decadent than the last. Monaco was wild, filled with the world’s elite and their very bored children. The private yacht parties were nothing short of a movie set, jet skis, champagne, drugs, and the sun beating down relentlessly. The thrill of it all never left, and every night you found a new billionaire, actor, or race car driver to distract you. It wasn’t about them, not really, it was about keeping the power in your hands, it was about feeling good. Taking away the pain that came with your powers, fortunately, men were jumping into your bed.

You didn’t even have to try. One wink, one smile, and suddenly you were in a Bentley, whisked away to a private after-party in a hidden corner of Monaco’s coastline. The prince of some oil-rich kingdom was at your side, and the night was long, filled with laughter and stolen kisses under the stars. You didn’t care what his name was, where he came from, or who he was, he was just another prince who could buy you anything you wanted.

You met guy, almost as rich as Bruce, who you beat at poker, he was more than happy to throw a yacht party in your honor. The invitation was clear: “Come party with us. No rules. No limits.”

Ariel had already decided to make a game of seeing how many men she could flirt before sunset, while Rory was doing her usual thing, charming people with her wit. You, on the other hand, had become the center of attention, as if the whole event was designed around you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a conversation that didn’t involve someone trying to buy you a drink, or a private island.

As the weeks stretched on, you could barely keep track of all the cities you had visited. You spent one night in Berlin, dancing until dawn in one of the city’s most infamous clubs. The next, you were in Milan, draped in designer clothing and laughing with the most influential fashion people in the world. Every day felt like a new chapter, filled with new people, new parties, and a new sense of power.

It was intoxicating. Everyone loved you here, you were the life of every party. You had so many friends, you'd never be alone again.

There was something so exhilarating about being surrounded by people who knew your last name, who were used to rubbing elbows with people like Bruce Wayne, but didn’t realize you were his daughter.

You felt it in your bones now, the distance between you and Gotham was growing wider. The weight of the past, the guilt that had once threatened to crush you, was nothing more than a distant memory. Each city, each new face, each new party was a reminder that you didn’t need them. You didn’t need anyone.

But deep down, something shifted. Maybe it was the late-night conversations with Ariel on the balcony of a villa in Santorini, the wine flowing freely as you discussed the future, her dreams, your dreams, how you’d never go back to the way things were. Maybe it was the quiet moments alone on the edge of some private infinity pool, staring out at a horizon that seemed endless and just… empty.

You didn’t know when you started to feel it, but you knew one thing for sure: when you finally did come back to Gotham, you weren’t going to be the same person who had left.

The Final Stop, St. Tropez. You did a full circle. Your last hurrah before you returned home, or where your family assumed you were all this time. The private beach parties, the yachts that lined the harbor, the whispers of billionaires in their private jets. You danced in the sand, surrounded by flashes from cameras and jealous glares from women who had no idea who you were, but wanted to be you all the same.

A private villa awaited you, and there, amidst the most extravagant décor, you found yourself facing yet another prince, yet another man eager to claim you as his own.

You turned to find a prince—probably from denmark—standing next to you. You immediately recognized his face from magazines. He was the one who was always pictured at galas with his equally famous family. He was beautiful, dark-haired and dangerous, with a body like chiseled stone. But the only thing you could think about was how long it would take before you got bored of him, before you moved on to the next.

His thick accented voice cut through your thoughts, "Well, if it isn't the infamous party girl." He smirked eyeing you up and down.

"Oh, so you've heard of me" You said smiling. You had no idea how he knew you, all your socials were private and theres no way you had mutual friends. You froze for a second, just how far has your reputation proceeded you, did Bruce hear?

You brushed the thought away as soon as it came, Bruce didn't exist. Not tonight, your last actual night of freedom. Not when you were boarding the flight to gotham after tomorrow.

"Hard not to. You've been everywhere. Paris, London, Ibiza, Monaco, Dubai, Vegas. You're practically the princess of Europe." He grinned leaning closer.

After two months you were finally starting to feel the rush of it all catching up to you. But for now? Who cared? You were a 16-year-old filled with confidence, chaos, and fun. The world was yours, and there was no one who could stop you, least of all, your father, who were still clueless about your whereabouts and secretly obsessing over your every move. You were too busy living in the moment to care about that.

You were officially the European Party Girl, the one everyone wanted to be friends with, the one they all wanted to take selfies with.

Ariel once called you a prince magnet, she wasn't wrong. You woke up next to him the next morning, his strong arms around your waist.

When you went back to Gotham, you weren’t just going to show up. You were going to treat them like they treated you all these years, you were going to laugh in their faces, ignore them like they ignored you.

As you and Ariel spent your last night together packing, you couldn't help but smile. In these two months with her, you lived more than you had in your entire life.

When you boarded the plane back to Gotham, you were different. You were someone new, someone who had tasted freedom and wasn’t sure if she could ever go back. The Waynes had no idea what was coming for them, but you were ready. The game had shifted, and you were about to play it all the way to the end.

Taglist:

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[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 2

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel’s shadows liked to spoil his mate rotten.

Not that Azriel could find anything wrong with that.

She deserved more for putting up with him. 

More than new tea from the Dawn Court and her favourite chocolate covered, wafer thin cookies from a small bakery near the Sidra…more than the occasional embroidery thread they snuck her…More than whatever animal he went to go hunt, to cover his bed in even more furs just for her. 

He nearly had enough Sable furs to have a blanket made for her for Winter Solstice…

Azriel also had half a mind to go sneak in her office later that day. 

Just as a treat for not killing either of his brothers. For being civil. 

Rhys had come over for sparring, unnannounced. 

Azriel had hoped to have some peace and quiet today, but it seemed like Rhys had other plans. 

Currently Cassian and Rhys were wrestling with less sense than they had had when they were just kids, and Azriel was cleaning his weapons, watching from the sidelines.

Azriel couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of his brothers roughhousing. It was typical of them to turn a simple sparring session into some kind of ridiculous competition. He focused on sharpening his knives, trying to ignore their antics.

"You know, we could also actually train properly," he called out, his tone dry. "Instead of wrestling like a bunch of children."

Cassian looked up from his grappling with Rhys, grinning. "Oh, come on Az. Don't be such a stick in the mud. Loosen up, have a little fun for once."

Azriel's expression remained impassive. "I'm perfectly capable of having fun, Cassian. But I prefer to do so without rolling around in the dirt like a wild animal."

Rhysand chuckled, standing up and clapping Cassian on the back. "It's good to let loose every now and then, Az. You should try it sometime. It might make your brooding sessions a little less depressing."

Azriel just grunted in response, not willing to engage in a verbal sparring match with Rhys. He continued to clean his weapons, hoping that the training session would end soon so he could escape his brothers' teasing.

“When did you even come home yesterday?” Cassian asked him.

Azriel looked up from his work, his expression neutral. "Around 11," he said simply.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Rhys pointed out. “You were missed.”

He highly doubted that.

And maybe he had made that mission in Dawn just a little while longer, so that he knew that dinner would be over and when he came home, he wouldn’t need to be alone.

Azriel just shrugged. "I was busy," he said, offering no further explanation. He knew his brothers were just trying to rile him up, and he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

*Are you still pissed of at me?* Rhys asked him mentally with a sigh. *I get it. But you don’t need to avoid everybody else, just because…*

*I’m not avoiding anyone,* Azriel replied, his mental voice tight. *I’m simply choosing to spend my time how I see fit.*

“I was busy,” he repeated aloud.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "You're always busy, Az. You know, there's such thing as taking a break once in a while. Spending time with your family."

Or he could spent time with his mate. He could spent time with his mate, who let him brush her hair and even braid it …who pressed kisses to his horrible scarred hands and smiled at him. 

If it was a choice between Irena or a family dinner where he didn’t want to stay longer than an hour or two, because he was still too fucking pissed off at Rhys…the choice was easy. 

“Or is there a special somebody?” Cassian teased him.

Azriel glowered at him. "It’s none of your business." He went back to working on his weapons, his expression tense.

*You can’t keep panting after Elain for the rest of your life,* Rhys said mentally. *Look, I know I didn’t…I am sorry. But she’s happy with Lucien and…*

*Don’t worry, I’ll go to a pleasure hall and pay for it if I want to fuck somebody,* Azriel shot back viciously.

Or his own hand would suffice. More than suffice, especially if…especially if Irena had let him kiss her the evening before…sometimes he waited until she disappeared into her room, and he buried his face in the pillows that smelled like her, fisted his cock and rutted like an untried boy for seconds before he came all over himself. 

It was still better than any other sex he ever had had before.

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. "It sounds like you need to get laid," he said, chuckling. "Maybe that'll help with your bad mood."

Azriel shot him a glare. "Mind your own business, Cassian. My love life is none of your concern."

Rhysand gave him a sympathetic look. *We just want you to be happy, Az. You deserve happiness.*

“Ohhh, touchy,” Cassian said with a snort.

Azriel just gritted his teeth, his temper rising. "Cassian, if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I swear to the Mother, I’ll shut it for you."

Cassian just grinned at him. "Come on, Az. I’m just teasing you. Lighten up."

Azriel's grip on his weapons tightened. "I don't like your teasing, Cassian. And I certainly don't appreciate you making assumptions about my personal life.”

Mostly he just wanted his brothers to leave him the hell alone.

And then...then before he could say another thing...he felt the shaking.

And then the sound came. An eardrum shattering explosion, the very foundation of the House of Wind shaking. It was terrifying him.

Irena was down there in her office. Nesta was in there. 

He was moving before he was even thinking. 

*Merrill's office, Master!* the shadows screeched.

Azriel was already running.

Cassian hot on his heels, so was Rhys.

Azriel was faster, heaving shadows around his limbs as he rocketed down the spiral stairs of the House of Wind.

Level Two, Straight to the right. Clearly...Clearly the epicenter of the blast. Of the explosion…of whatever had happened.

He pushed as hard as he could, legs burning as he hurtled down the hallway to Merrill's office.

He wasn't the only one. "Merrill!" He could hear Gwyn's shrill voice screaming, coming to a stop in a hallway of what had once been Merrill's office but now was just...

It was a mass of wood and rubble.

He barely slowed down, scrambling into action. Gwyn was already digging through it, so where Nesta and Emerie. Cassian landed behind him, immediately moving some of the debris.

His shadows swarmed as he and the others quickly dug at the rubble. Looking, desperately looking.

He moved another piece of rubble out of the way...a piece of blue cloths. The same blue cloth that he knew covered Irena's body, the scent of poppies clinging to her...Without a thought, he grasped and then dragged, a hoarse shout that was her, that was her...

He felt as if he were choking, as if he were drowning as he dragged out her body. Bloody, bruised, broken but still...still there was a faint flicker, a faint, thready heartbeat.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he tried to pick up on her heart. There was barely a flicker. Too fast, too faint, she was barely holding on. Barely hanging by a thread.

There was blood pooling on her abdomen, dying the blue dress she wore bright scarlet red, He put pressure on that wound immediately, leaning on her with nearly all his weight, his fingers slick with blood. "Damn it, stay with me, love," he demanded sharply.

Azriel felt like he could barely breath. Like he was falling, tumbling down as he tried to will her to stay with him. Stay. Stay. Stay. Please stay. Stay...

Rhys was there suddenly, checking her pulse. "Breathing is erratic. She's in shock," he told Azriel with a grimace. "Mor is getting Madja..."

"Az..." her voice was so weak, but he turned to see dark brown eyes watching him, brows furrowing.

"Just keep breathing, Love," he told her, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

He could barely hear what was going on around him. It was as if he were in a bubble, a world of just himself and her and the desperate beat of her heart under his fingers.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"There is nothing you need to apologise for her, Irena," he promised her sharply. "Absolutely nothing."

Irena's eyes drifted shut. Azriel felt like something was dying inside him as her heartbeat fluttered against his fingertips. His world was collapsing, shattering into pieces as her breath stuttered.

"Stay. Just stay..." he was barely aware of what he was saying, his eyes frantically searching hers. She had to stay. He would do anything to keep her here. Anything.

"I am still owing you that flight," he told her. She hadn't let him take her flying yet. They had snuck away in the library...in the rooftop garden...in her office. But he had never gotten to take her flying. He had never gotten to take her out into Velaris. They had never had a date at a fancy restaurant, had never gone to see the symphony. There were thousands of things that he hadn't yet gotten to do with his mate, because they had all the time in the world.

Irena just stared at him, her eyes pleading, as her heartbeat slowed, fluttering weaker and weaker. Azriel felt a sharp pain in his chest as fear clawed at his spine. "Just hold on a little longer, love," he whispered. "Please."

And then there Madja. Thank the cauldron. There she was.

Azriel could barely manage to let go of her, his mind consumed with the singular thought of Irena's laboured, erratic heartbeat as he moved back. Madja immediately set to work.

He lunged for her head, lunged to pull it on his lap, to touch her with blood slick fingertips, her normally rosy red lips pale, her skin even whiter than usual.

"Hurts," she whispered, as Madja set to work, barking orders.

"I know, I know, love," he whispered, touching her cheek with his fingertips as Madja got to work.

His eyes searched hers as he murmured those words over and over, as if he could somehow hold her in this world through sheer force of will alone.

"We haven't had enough time," he whispered desperately, leaning his forehead against hers.

She was slipping away. He could feel it. Feel her slipping, feel her heartbeat slow. Feel the thread that tethered her to this world fray, fray, fray...

No. He couldn't lose her. Would not let her leave him. He had waited far too long for her. Far, far too long to let her slip through his fingers.

"Stay with me," he pleaded. "Please stay with me."

But her eyes were slipping shut, her head lolling to the side. He gently patted her cheek, trying to urge her back to consciousness, but he didn't think he was even really aware of what he was doing, where he was. The world had boiled down to a desperate litany, in his head. Stay...stay...please...don't you dare...

“I am going to be so furious with you if you die. We may have our first fight,” he told her fiercely.

He needed her to know that he would be there to be furious with her if she dared to die, that she couldn't die. Couldn't. That she had to stay. Had to keep fighting. There were too many things ahead of them...a wedding to plan, children to have, years and years of life to live.

“Az,” she breathed his name, her eyes not even open anymore.

“Open your eyes, Irena,” he demanded. “Look at me, love,”

Her eyes finally fluttered open at his command. It was barely more than a slither of brown, but he latched onto it, taking it for what it was. A chance. A moment to get through to her.

He wasn't sure what he was saying, but the words spilled forth from him, a litany, a desperate prayer. "Please," he breathed, "don't go...don't you dare..."

He was dimly aware that the others had gathered, but he didn't dare look away. Didn't dare look away from her as he cradled her head, trying to pour all of his prayers into those words. All of his hope and desperation.

"You can't go." A statement. An order. An absolute certainty in his voice. "I will not let you go."

He wouldn't. Would never, ever let her go. Would drag her back from the Cauldron's grasp with bloodied and broken hands if thats what had to be.

She didn't speak. Didn't need to. He could read her answer in her eyes, the determination in those brown eyes as she tried so, so hard to stay.

It was as if she were holding on for him, because he had asked her to. Because it was him there with her. Like she would fight until her last breath because he told her too. He didn't deserve this beautiful creature, who was willing to fight for him, willing to live for him.

It was something primal, something desperate, something fierce as he whispered those words over and over, like a prayer. "Fight. Fight. Fight."

And she listened. She did. He could feel her hold on, just barely grasp hold of that tether that kept her in this world. Just barely keep her eyes open.

Just look at him.

And she did, those dark eyes unfocused but open, staring up at him, watching him. Trying so, so hard. It nearly made his heart stop in the most terrible way that she was struggling for him.

And he was so proud of her. Of the way she was fighting like she was. Of the way she was grasping, hanging on to life like she was.

The seconds stretched too thin, feeling like eternities and only the slightest of moments. But her eyes were open, if only barely. She hadn't given up. Hadn't let go.

He was dimly aware of the others, Gwyn hovering with a worried expression, Madja murmuring quiet instructions to the others, Rhys kneeling not far away. But he barely glanced at them, barely dared to take his eyes off Irena.

He was certain that if he looked away, if he let this tenuous thread sever, that she would die. That as long as he kept her here, she wouldn't slip, wouldn't let go.

He had one hand on her cheek, her skin still clammy and pale, as her eyes slipped open and shut. But everytime, they would find his face. His eyes, like he was the only thing tethering her to the world. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her barely holding on, only that last sliver of determination keeping her here.

"Please," he pleaded, whispering those words like a prayer, like he would be praying to a vengeful god. Those moments felt like eternities, stretching on and on with only his desperate whispers. "Please..."

The world felt so still, so silent as if the world was holding its breath. Azriel's eyes locked on Irena, silently begging her, asking her to please, please...

Live, live live... he whispered those words over and over, a desperate plea to the Mother, the Cauldron, to anyone who would listen. To Irena, the only person in the entire world who truly mattered in that moment.

Her eyes were growing glassy, slipping closed only to jerk open again. Stay he demanded. Keep looking at me. Please.

She tried. Mother, she tried. Her eyes drifted to him, the smallest hint of life, of a spark there in those dark brown eyes.

He hardly dared to breathe, hardly dared to move. Afraid that any wrong move could tip her over the edge, could pull her into that chasm of non-existence that she was desperately clinging too.

He felt something pricking at his eyes, felt something in his chest cracking, breaking at the sheer intensity of emotions thrumming through him. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her like this, so pale, barely holding on, barely conscious...

“Alright,” Madja said quietly. “Good girl. You were so very brave.”

"Will...will she be alright?" He asked, voice hoarse.

He didn't let his eyes drift from Irena's face, her half lidded eyes staring at him. It filled him with such an intense pang of relief and fear at the same time. Relief, because she was alive...and fear, because they had been so close to losing her.

"She's not out of the woods yet," Madja warned. "But she'll make it. She lost a lot of blood. It will take some time to get her vitals stable again."

He felt like he could breathe for the first time. It was almost dizzying, the sheer, intense relief that flooded through him. Irena was here. Irena would live. It filled his veins with an almost drug like euphoria, that made him light headed, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

He barely managed to keep that feeling in, the pure euphoria from showing as he smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes finally dragging away from Irena's face to look at Madja. "Just...thank you."

He looked back at Irena, taking in her face. Alive. Still alive. Still here with him, not gone. The tension seeped from his shoulders, a strange sort of exhaustion taking over. As if all the adrenaline that had fueled him, the fear, was slowly draining out of him like water.

“Merrill,” Irena whispered, her voice near silent.

Azriel felt his fingers brush her cheek, just the gentlest touch as he tried to keep it together. It had been too close. Too, too close. He couldn't stop the overwhelming feelings flowing through him of elation and fear as he looked down at her as he looked down at her, alive. Alive and breathing and whispering soft words. "Shhh," he whispered softly. "Save your strength. Don't strain yourself."

He looked up finding Cassians gaze who just shook his head. Merrill was dead.

Azriel couldn't quite process that information, not in that moment. His eyes were still drawn to Irena, still unable to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. His fingers brushed her cheek again, just the faintest touch as he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. "Rest," he instructed softly. "I'll be right there.” He promised.

“Being here to her room,” Madja said quietly.

“My room,” he corrected.

The priestesses dormitory was locked from males. If he even tried to get in there it would’ve end well for him. And he wouldn’t leave her side.

“Your room?” Gwyn asked sharply.

“Gwyn,” Rhys said quietly.Azriel didn't even acknowledge Gwyn's words, didn't have the energy. All he could focus on was the way Irena's eyes had drifted shut, the steady rise and fall of her chest. She would be alright. She was going to be alright. She was alive. Right now, in that moment, thats all that mattered.

“Az, how long have the two of you…” Cassian asked hesitantly.

Azriel just shrugged, his hand resting on Irena's hair, smoothing back from her face. “Two years. She’s my mate,” he said flatly as he gathered her up. 

“Mate,” she rasped. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he agreed softly.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 10: The Bridges Burned Around Us

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

Be good to me, and I'll be good to you (but please don't be too good to be true)

(In which an apologetic writer finally finishes a chapter that took much longer than necessary)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff and Angst

Words: 10.2K (seems fitting for chapter 10 lol)

TW: Swearing

A/N: Hello my lovelies :) I am so incredibly late with this I know but considering it's really the length of two chapters, I think I should be forgiven. Despite how long this took me, I don't really know how I feel about this chapter because it's both filler but also pretty important so honestly it does feel a little all over the place. But I hope y'all like it anyways. I do suggest quickly skimming over Part 2 before you read this just to jog your memory a little bit. I did edit as I always do but there's probably typos/mistakes, so feel free to point those out. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a wonderful weekend my loves <3

May 2033

“What the hell Bueckers?” Coach yells, glaring daggers at Paige who has the audacity to at least look a little embarrassed as she reaches a hand to help the rookie she’d just knocked over with far too much unnecessary force. Azzi narrows her eyes at the scene, confused at Paige’s atypical behavior. It wasn’t uncommon for the vets to rib the rookies a little bit, hell they had a whole ragging initiation ceremony planned for this weekend to welcome the newest members of their team, but Paige seemed to have a personal vendetta against Angie Davis.

When they’d watched the draft together, Azzi could’ve seen sworn she’d seen a flash of uncomfortableness flicker in Paige’s eyes as the commissioner announced that the Valkyries, with their third pick acquired via Atlanta, were picking Angie Davis from Stanford University. The blonde had stiffened but only for a split second and Azzi had chalked it up to nothing because really, what beef could Paige possibly have with a 22 year old? Except clearly something was bothering the Minnesota native because this is the fifth time today itself that Paige has fouled the girl so hard that her body had almost slightly bounced as it hit the floor. 

The first time, everyone had found it amusing because who didn’t laugh at a rookie getting a taste of the league. The second time, Coach had rolled her eyes but the rest of the team had still found it pretty funny. And then as it continued, Azzi could tell her teammates were just as confused by Paige’s behavior as she was. They might not know the blonde as well as Azzi did, but in the last month or so they’d discover that the basketball superstar was really just a ball of golden retriever energy. Since they’d started training camp recently, they’d seen that Paige always practiced hard but she also had the time of her life doing it. They’d seen that she might practically bulldoze her teammates in her eagerness to be a good defender but she’d always be the first one to help pick them up with a teasing grin on her face right after. Except apparently not with Angie. With Angie, there was nothing but brute force and the first couple of times, before Coach’s clear irritation had started to seep onto her face, Paige hadn’t even bothered helping the rookie up. And although Azzi would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that a part of her found this aggressive display of strength just a tad bit attractive, she also knew it was completely unlike her Paige to be acting like this. 

“So,” she says softly, lowering her voice purposefully as she sidles up to Paige in the locker room after practice, “are we going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” there’s a smirk on Paige’s face as she takes a step closer towards Azzi. 

The brunette narrows her eyes, “you know what.”

“What I know,” Paige whispers as she ghosts her hands across Azzi’s hips, keeping her movement innocuous as to not alert their other teammates who are engrossed in conversation not too far away from them, “is that I’m pretty sure you’re just looking for a way to get close to me.” 

“You’re so fucking full of yourself,” but she can’t stop the faint blush that’s creeping up  her cheeks as Paige’s hot breath fans across her face and her gaze shifts to the blonde’s sweat sheened biceps that are on fully display under her flimsy tank top. 

Paige notices it immediately as her smirk widens, “appreciating the view baby?”

“Shut up,” Azzi shoves her back lightly, “don’t try and distract me.”

“‘I’m not even trying. I just have that effect on you,” Paige shrugs coyly as she pushes herself back into Azzi’s space.

The brunette’s eyes dart over to her teammate for a brief second, making sure the rest of them are still occupied with their own conversations as she takes her own step towards the blue-eyed woman, the edges of her lips turning up into a smug grin when she hears Paige’s breath hitch, “and what about the effect I have on you?”

There’s something thrilling about hiding this from their team, something sexy about having to keep their hands to themselves when they’re constantly desperate to touch. It was torture in a way, having Paige so close and not being able to kiss her or hold her. But that only meant that when Azzi did finally get to do all of those things, it felt like finally coming up for air; like after being deprived of her oxygen for so long, she could finally breathe. 

Last time around, they’d kept it a secret from the world but everyone who meant something to them had known. Their old teammates for one. This time, especially since they hadn’t quite defined what this was, they’d chosen to keep it even closer to their chests. It had been Paige’s idea this time and Azzi thinks maybe she’d proposed it just to beat the brunette to the punch-maybe she’d even been a little disappointed by it- but she thinks that they probably do need a little more time; a little more time to trust that this time they wouldn’t go up in flames, that they wouldn’t burn everyone else around them. 

“You don’t- you don’t have any effect on me,” Paige stutters. 

“Is that right?” Azzi asks coyly, taking her shirt off at a ridiculous slow pace, enjoying the way blonde’s eyes are immediately drawn towards her toned abs, “none at all?” 

“N-no,” Paige gulps as she watches the brunette finally get rid of the offending t-shirt and she’s left in nothing but a sports bra that does little to hide the curves underneath. 

“Appreciating the view baby?”  Azzi smirks, repeating the older woman’s words from before she slyly runs her index finger across the purplish red hues of a hickey Paige had left on her collarbone from the night before. 

“You’re so-”

“Bueckers,” a loud voice interrupts Paige’s groan as the two of them spring apart, everyone in the room turning to look at their Coach leaning against the doorframe, “in my office. Now.”

It feels a little bit like they’re college students being reprimanded again but there’s this nagging intuition in Azzi’s gut, as she watched Paige sheepishly follow Coach into her office, that she’s missing out on some important information. Something churns in her stomach at the thought of it. Things had been near perfect so far; they were climbing back up to what they had been, maybe climbing their way to something better but Azzi thinks that if another gust of circumstance tries to shove them down again, they might not be able to get back up this time. Because this time, they’re not climbing alone. This time, they have Stephie and at the end of the day, she’s all that matters. 

“So is Paige’s car broken or something?” Tessa’s question catches Azzi off guard as she shakes herself out of head and looks at her teammate with confusion. 

“Uh no why?”

“I mean it’s just every time she shows up somewhere, it seems she’s in your car, with you. So I just figured something must be up with her car, why else would y’all be carpooling literally every single day unless-” there’s a sparkle in Tessa’s eyes as she leans casually against her locks, “unless there’s another reason?”

“What other reason could there be?” Azzi’s voice is unusually high-pitched as she avoids Tessa’s perceptive eyes and instead glares daggers at a spluttering Jana, “her car’s in the shop. That’s it. That’s definitely it. That’s the only reason I’m driving her around.”

“Aw that sucks,” Laila says with an oblivious empathetic smile, “I mean we could help out if that’s the case? With carpooling.”

“I don’t think-”

“What a lovely idea Phelia,” Tessa smirks and Azzi knows just by how guileful it is, that the former Gamecock is absolutely onto them, “what do you think Azzi? Maybe we can make a little chart for who drives Paige to practice huh? Be welcoming to our teammate?”

Resisting the urge to flip off both Tessa and Jana whose shoulders are shaking with laughter, Azzi settles on a sugary sweet smile instead, “I don’t think that’s necessary-”

“Oh we’d be happy to help,” Tessa chirps happily and Azzi’s suddenly wistful for the moment back in her senior year when she’d dropped the South Carolina guard for an easy layup. 

“And that’s very kind of y’all but,” she reaches over to squeeze the younger girl’s shoulder tightly, making her grunt in discomfort, “I think Paige is okay. It just works better if it’s one person. Less complications, you know?”

“Won’t somebody please think about the complications,” Jana snickers. 

“I’m so confused,” Laila says, a frown on her face as she looks weirdly at her teammates. 

“It’s nothing,” Azzi says shrilly as she slings both her and Paige’s bags on her shoulders, rolling her eyes when both Jana and Tessa giggle at the domesticity of the action, “don’t worry about it, Phelia.”

“Y’all are acting strange,” Laila shrugs as she starts to make her way out of the locker room and Azzi’s rounds on the other two women. 

“Whatever you think you know Tess,” Azzi raises a finger in warning, “keep it to yourself.”

Tessa makes a point to make a zipping motion across her lips as her eyes glimmer with mischief. 

“Thank god,” Jana gasps dramatically, “I was so tired of having to deal with these two all by myself. Do you know how hard it is Tess? I’ve been doing it for YEARS.”

“You poor soul,” Tessa coos, “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you. They’re kind of disgusting.”

“You peeped that already? Damn Azzi, do you realize how sickening y’all must be for Tessa to have already figured it out?”

“No forreal,” Tessa teases, “if you don’t want people catching onto your shit, I suggest y’all stop eyefucking every other second.”

“Fuck all the way off. Both of you,” Azzi grunts as Jana practically howls with laughter.

“You kiss your daughter with that mouth Fudd?”

“I dunno about Stephie,” Tessa drops her voice so only Jana and Azzi can hear her, “but I bet she kisses Paige with that mouth huh Az?”

Azzi groans, hiding her bright red face in her hands as her teammates' jovial laughter echoes through the locker room.

*** 

Paige is eerily quiet as she climbs into the passenger seat and Azzi knows immediately by the way she doesn’t try to coax her way into driving, that whatever conversation she’d had with Coach, likely hadn’t been a pleasant one. There are a thousand and one questions taking birth in her mind but Azzi doesn’t voice any of them, knowing Paige isn’t ready to answer them. Instead, she laces her fingers through Paige’s, resting them on the other girl's lap as she rubs a soothing circle against the back of her hand, a promise of whenever you’re ready to share, i’ll be ready to listen. 

They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts, one driven by that fact Paige has practically moved into Azzi’s house at this point. Their day started with them dropping Stephie off at school before the two of them would go to training or practice or whatever basketball activities they had planned. Then, they’d go to pick up Stephie from school and Azzi would drop her and Paige off at Curry camp while she ran various errands before circling back to pick them up. It’s domestic as hell and there’s a part of Azzi that’s still a little fearful; perhaps they’re trying to fit the puzzle pieces of their separate lives into each other a little too quickly. But she thinks that maybe those puzzle pieces had never really been disconnected, because sometimes she thinks their existence might just be an extension of each other’s. 

“You know,” Azzi begins softly when it becomes abundantly clear Paige isn’t going to speak first, “I’m okay with the fact that you’ve probably fucked other people. I mean other than the woman you married as well that is.”

“What the fuck?” Paige’s head whips towards her so quick, it must hurt just a little bit, “where the fuck did that come from?”

Azzi shrugs, “I’m just saying-”

“Why are you just saying?” Paige's eyes widen in panic as she possessively tightens her grip on the brunette’s hand, “are you about to tell me about someone you hooked up with? Because I’mma be honest Azzi I’d rather jump out of this moving car then hear about some whore who had the audacity-”

“Audacity? You do realize I was-”

“Say you were single and I actually will jump out of the car,” Paige warns, “but no actually dude what the fuck?”

“Well you see,” Azzi says carefully, “I’m trying to figure out why you’re being such a bitch to our new rookie and after careful deliberation, I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s gotta be a hookup gone wrong because why the fuck else would Paige Bueckers, who has a hard time killing a spider, be so unnecessarily mean to this poor girl?” 

There’s silence in the car for a second as Paige opens and closes her mouth, unable to get a word out, until she doubles over laughing, the sound of it echoing all around them. Azzi can’t help the soft grin that flitters across her face, relieved at seeing the way the tension begins to dissipate from the blonde’s shoulders. And Azzi swears that when Paige laughs, it feels a little bit like the sun has come out again; like the flowers are blooming and birds are chirping and everything is right in the world again and she thinks the sun should probably be jealous of the warmth Paige exudes because at least against the silhouette of Azzi’s sky, Paige burns brighter than the sun ever will. 

“You-you think I fucked Angie?” Paige finally manages to splutter out between peals of laughs, “baby she’s barely 22.”

“Hey,” Azzi pouts, “you always did go for younger women. Like me for example.”

Paige narrows her eyes, “you’re literally one year younger than me.”

“One year and a couple of days,” Azzi corrects. 

Rolling her eyes Paige uses both hands to hold Azzi’s non-driving one, “Azzi I swear to you that I have never in my life hooked up with Angie fucking Davis.”

“I know,” Azzi confesses, eyes still focused on the road ahead of her, “so what exactly is your problem with her then Paige?”

“You couldn’t have just asked me that?”

Azzi shrugs, “felt like I needed to make you laugh first. So tell me Bueckers-” before she can continue, she feels lips being pressed to her cheeks and can’t help the crimson tinge it elicits on her face, “what- what was that for?”

“Because you’re a little bit of a sap and I’m glad you’re my sap,” Paige grins, “all mine.”

“You’re trying to change the topic.”

“I am not.”

“Paige.”

The blonde sighs, leaning her head back against the headrest, “can we talk about it tonight? I wanna tell you I promise- I just- I think we need to sit down so that I- I can explain it to you properly.”

“That feels ominous,” Azzi’s stomach clenches at the seriousness in Paige’s voice as she turns onto the street for Stephie’s school, “should I be worried?”

“No,” Paige says firmly, bringing their enclosed hands to her mouth so she can brush a kiss across Azzi’s knuckles, “it’s nothing we can’t get through.”

Azzi nods as she pulls into the school parking lot, mustering up a reassuring smile of her own as she squeezes Paige’s hand. But there’s still a speck of fear dancing around in her gut; it’s this constant fear of losing Paige again that she doesn’t think she’ll ever truly be able to sweep out of her system. They’ve been doing so good these last few weeks -like they’re collecting together the scattered pages of everything we used to be and binding them back together with strings of all that we can become- but sometimes Azzi finds herself afraid that it might all just disappear, that a gust of wind might blow everything out of her hands all over again. 

“HI MAMA. HI MISS BUECKS,” she’s shaken from her thoughts by the backdoor opening as Stephie barrels into the car, the happiness in her voice contagious as she leans over the console to kiss Azzi and then Paige, before hanging between them and tapping at her own cheeks. The two adults laugh as they simultaneously press their lips to the little girl's cheeks, causing her dimples to deepen as she giggles between them. 

“How was school Stephie-bean?” Paige asks, peering over her own shoulder to make sure Stephie buckles herself in correctly as Azzi backs the car out. 

Stephie scrunches up her nose is distaste, “it’s school Miss Buecks. It was so boring. Except for lunch. Lunch was great. I love lunch.”

“You’re so real Steph,” Paige nods seriously, “lunch is the best and school is so bor-”

“Paige!”

“C’mon Az, I’m not gonna lie to the kid.”

“Exactly Mama,” Stephie chimes in loyally from the backseat, “lying is bad.”

Azzi rolls her eyes as Paige twists her hand to hold it out for Stephie to high-five it from the backseat, “the two of you are insufferable.”

“What does that mean?” Stephie asks, tilting her head in confusion. 

“It means we’re her most favorite people in the world,” Paige winks at the little girl as Azzi shakes her head fondly, choosing to keep the you’re more than that, you two are the reason my world keeps turning that tastes sugary sweet on the tip of her tongue to herself as she continues to drive. 

“What do y’all want for dinner?” she asks instead, ready to make a mental note of ingredients she might need to pick up from the grocery store while Paige and Stephie are at Curry Camp. 

“Actually,” there’s a slight nervous lilt to Paige’s voice and when Azzi looks over, she finds the older woman fidgeting anxiously with her thumbs, “I was thinking that maybe um- maybe y’all could come over to mine tonight? Maybe I can cook?”

They haven’t stayed at Paige’s since that first disastrous night. It hadn’t been on purpose per say; it was simply just easier to stay at Azzi’s, especially with Stephie to consider but perhaps a part of it had been subconscious self-preservation on the younger girl's part. Something about sleeping over at Paige’s feels more purposeful; like she’s fully letting herself step back into the other’s girl world and this time with the promise to not run away in the morning. It’s scary but when Azzi sees the hopeful look on Paige’s face as the blonde bites her lips, she thinks it’s worth it to take the leap; she’s ready for it. 

“I think that would be nice,” she says with a soft smile, “I’ll pick up some clothes for Stephie while y’all are at camp.”

Paige beams and Azzi can tell she’s itching to lean over to grab her hand or kiss her touch her in any way but there’s still the little fact they still haven’t quite told Stephie anything about them yet that stops her from doing any of the above. 

“What do you think of that Stephie bean? You wanna have a sleepover at my place tonight?” she redirects her attention to the little girl instead. 

“YES PLEASE,” Stephie squeals, practically bouncing on her car seat before a frown crosses her forehead, “but um-” she hesitates, “you um- you can’t cook Miss Buecks.”

Azzi bursts into a laughter as an offended look clouds Paige’s face, “excuse me? I absolutely can cook.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie says, her condescension-filled tone as adult as she can make it be, “you burned my eggs three times this week and then Mama had to make them all over again and we were almost late for school,” the little girl smirks through her ramble, “but that’s okay because I don’t mind being late for school because like I said school is really boring.”

“Okay but what about the one time I didn’t burn the eggs?” Paige haughtily crosses her arms over chest, “have we all just forgotten about that?”

“Pretty sure they were a little undercooked and saltless that one time-OW,” Azzi’s snicker is cut off by a pinch to her stomach, “do you want me to crash the car woman?”

Paige ignores her, turning back to look at Stephie with a betrayed expression, “you said you liked them?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feeling Miss Buecks,” the little girl wails and Azzi feels a mix of pride and love bloom in her heart at the kind soul she’s raised, “I’m sorry Miss Buecks but I just-” Stephie reaches as far as her seatbelt will allow to cup Paige’s hand in her tiny hands, “I really don’t think you should cook Miss Buecks.Please. I don’t wanna die yet. I’m too cute to die.”

“You know what Stephie bean,” Paige taps the little girl’s nose, “I think you might be even more of a drama queen than me-”

“Don’t sound so proud,” Azzi mutters under her breath. 

“Shhh,” Paige chastises, never looking away from Stephie, “but alright sweetheart. I won’t cook. How about we order pizza?”

Stephie lets out a delighted cheer as Azzi grumbles, “more junk food? I swear to god Bueckers you’re completely ruining her diet.”

“On the contrary, I think I’m finally fixing it. You poor thing,” Paige coos at Stephie dramatically, “I bet your Mama was torturing you with nasty green things all day every day before me huh?”

“No no no Miss Buecks, veggies are good for you,” Stephie recites loyally and Azzi grins triumphantly at Paige. 

“Oh dear Stephie you’ve been brainwashed-”

“Excuse me? Don’t try to corrupt my child out of her good habits.”

“I’m not corrupting her,” Paige defends as Azzi makes a left turn into the parking lot for Curry Camp, “I’m just teaching her the wonders of grease and oil and all the other fun things that adults lie are bad for you.”

“Paige you are an adult.”

“But a fun one,” Paige smirks, waggling her eyebrows at Stephie through the mirror as Azzi stops the car right outside the building, “right Stephie-bean?”

“The fun-est-est-est-est,” Stephie choruses back as she begins to unbuckle herself so she can latch onto her mother’s neck from behind. Paige takes the opportunity to climb out of the car so she can grab Stephie’s sports bag from where it’s kept in the trunk.

“You be good for Miss Buecks and Uncle Twin at camp today okay?” Azzi whispers to the little girl, “and I better hear that you made all your shots.”

Stephie scoffs, “you know I never miss Mama.”

“That’s my girl,” Azzi grins as she nuzzles her nose against the little girl’s before Paige opens the backdoor and Stephie unlatches herself from her mother, only so she can go barrelling into the older woman’s arms instead, “Stephie-bean you know you can walk.”

“But Mama,” Stephie whines, wrapping her hands tightly around Paige’s neck, “I’m too tired to walk-”

“Stephie,” Azzi sighs. 

“You don’t mind carrying me, do you Miss Buecks?”

“Of course not,” Paige grins, “whatever you want sweetheart.”

Stephie looks pointedly at Azzi, “see Mama? Miss Buecks doesn’t mind.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Azzi shakes her head, “alright off you two go. I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

“Bye Mama,” Stephie waves, “hurry back okay? We’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you guys too,” Azzi says warmly, blowing a kiss at both of them. 

It’s uncanny how similar the two of them are, when both Stephie and Paige make a show of catching the kiss and bringing it to their heart before looking at each other and giggling over their own silliness. It makes Azzi’s heartache in the best way possible. And as she watches the two of them start walking up the stairs, Stephie rambling and Paige hanging onto every word, she thinks that as long as life gives her the two of them, she’ll never ask for anything else. 

***

The first thing Azzi notices when she walks into the gym, arriving a little before camp finishes so she can say hi to her mentor, is Stephie sulking as she glares at Paige from the other side of the court. Confused, because it’s rare to see her daughter looking at the other woman with anything but pure adulation, Azzi follows the little girl’s line of sight to see what could possibly have upset her. A fond smile crosses her face as she sees Paige crowded by a bunch of children, all of them watching the superstar with wonder as she demonstrates her shooting technique. Paige swishes the ball into the basket and one would think she’d just scored the game-winning shot in the finals, by the way the gaggle of kids around her let out enthused cheers. 

The blonde has always had this aura that draws people to her -Azzi would know; she’d been one of the first people to succumb to it (not that she’d put up much of a fight)- but there’s something different about the charisma Paige has with kids. Perhaps it’s because of her own childlike innocence that’s still intact despite her age, but it’s clear that the little ones adore her. Azzi watches as one of the little girls animatedly tries to mimic what Paige had just demonstrated, looking upset when the basketball barely touches the rim. 

“I’m never gonna make a basket,” she hears the girl pout. 

Paige ruffles the kid’s hair before lifting her up onto her lap, “of course you are. You just needed a little bit more height. Here try again,” she says as she urges the girl to shoot again now that she’s higher off the ground. This time the ball falls magnificently through the hoop and the child whoops. 

“OH MY GOD COACH P I DID IT,” she squeals, hiding her face in Paige’s neck and while Azzi finds the whole thing quite adorable, when she looks over, she realizes that clearly Stephie is not nearly amused as she watches her daughter’s face transform into a scowl. 

“Riley and Ryan used to make the same face any time I gave another little girl too much of my time,” Azzi grins as Steph appears by her side, the former Warriors guard bumping her shoulder as a sign of greeting, “I split the kids into groups, half with Paige and half with me. Kept Stephie with me cause you know I thought I was her favorite but she’s been glaring at all the kids with Paige this whole time.”

“She’s uh- she’s a little possessive,” Azzi chuckles, eyes still on her daughter who finally looks away from Paige, before angrily shooting the ball at the lowered basket in front of her. 

“NICE SHOT TWIN NIECE,” Steph cheers as Stephie makes the shot, the little girl’s face unmoving as she gathers the ball back and gets ready to shoot again. Sometimes Azzi thinks, as she claps with pride, her daughter’s laser-focus attitude might rival her own. Maybe it’s a mother’s bias -she’d call it intuition- but she’s certain Stephie’s going to be a basketball phenomenon one day. 

“That was so pretty Stephie-bean,” Paige is beaming as she approaches Stephie, the little girl from before holding her hand, “you think you can show Claudia here how you get that arc on it?”

“No thank you Coach Bueckers,” Stephie’s voice is perfectly polite as she makes a point to not look at the two people who’ve just entered her space, but Azzi catches the split second when her gaze shifts irritatedly to the way Claudia’s hanging off of Paige, “I’m a little busy right now. Maybe another time.”

“Oh she’s good,” Steph whistles lowly as Paige’s mouth falls open at not being referred to as Miss Buecks, “she’s gonna have Paige groveling after camp I bet. She’s gonna get whatever treat she wants.” 

Azzi groans, “that is not a good thing. Do you know how much junk food she manipulates Paige into getting her?”

Steph laughs, “she spoils her huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Azzi mutters but there’s a wistful grin on her face, “It’s part of why Stephie adores her so much cause she knows Paige would give her the world if she could.”

“I don’t think it’s just Stephie who adores her,” Steph bumps his shoulder against her and Azzi blanches at the knowing tone in his voice. 

“That’s not- I mean- I don’t- I don’t know what you mean,” she stutters out. 

Steph rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, “oh come off it Az. It was obvious when y’all were kids and it’s still obvious now.”

“When we were- you knew?” 

“Of course I knew,” Steph scoffs, “I’ve been married for more than 20 years to the same girl I fell in love with at 15 years old Az, I know a thing or two about what love looks like. Of course I knew.”

“I’m just getting clocked left right and center today what the hell,” she grumbles but there’s a part of her that’s slightly relieved about the people around them slowly figuring it out. She thinks she should maybe be a little more embarrassed about how obvious they apparently are -have supposedly always been- but honestly she kind of loves that their love is so bright, that it’s impossible to not see it. 

Love. The word sends a shiver through Azzi. It’s not a foreign feeling to her at all, especially not when it comes to Paige. If she’s honest with herself, it’s a feeling that has never left. She’d tried as hard as she could; shoving it underneath a rock of you’re not allowed to feel this way that weighed heavily against her chest. But it had always been there and as soon as Paige had waltzed her way back into Azzi’s life, the blonde seemed to have found a way to shovel it right back out. And that four-letter-word isn’t buried anymore; it’s right there on the tip of her tongue and every time Paige smiles at her -eyes crinkling with only for you-, Azzi’s this close to let it slip through her lips. She’s just waiting for the right time.

“Hey Stephie-bean can I fix your form a little bit,” her attention is drawn back to her surroundings as she watches Paige try to get Stephie to look at her again but her daughter is nothing if not stubborn. 

“That’s okay. It’s almost time to go home and I’m sure Uncle Twin can help me with my form Coach Bueckers,” the little girl says contemptuously to a gobsmacked Paige before gesturing at Claudia, “how about you just keep helping her instead.”

“Sheesh that’s one petty kid you’ve got there Fudd,” Steph remarks before stepping to the front of the court and blowing his whistle, “alright y’all it’s 5 o’clock. Great job today! I hope you guys had a lot of fun and learned some good stuff and I’ll see y’all back here tomorrow!”

The former player diligently high-fives all the kids before they disperse towards their awaiting parents. Azzi can tell Stephie’s still irritated when the little girl barely hugs Steph, shaking herself out of her Uncle’s arms much quicker than she normally would as she all but stomps her way to her mother. 

“Woah there Stephie-bean,” Azzi says gently, falling to her knees in front of her daughter, “what’s wrong?”

Stephie pouts miserably, “I’m mad at Miss Buecks. She’s been helping other kids this whole time.”

Azzi has to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling, amused by the child’s dramatics, “baby you know that’s Miss Buecks’s job right? She’s here to coach all the kids.”

If possible, Stephie’s frown deepens as she kicks her feet stubbornly, “she can coach them,” she says matter-of-factly, “but why does she have to carry them and give them hugs. She should only do that with me.”

“Stephie-”

“And camp is over now and she’s still with stupid Claudia,” Stephie whines as she uses her hand to turn Azzi’s face towards Paige, “see?”

The we don’t call people stupid lesson that she was just about to give her daughter dies on Azzi’s lips as her eyes fixate on where a stupid pretty young woman who she knows to be Claudia’s mother is staring up at Paige with a stupid flirty smile. Azzi has no idea what the blonde is saying, but she’s sure it can’t be that funny to make the woman tilt her head back in laughter, left hand reaching out to flick Paige’s bicep and lingering far longer than necessary. 

“You know what Stephie-bean I think it’s time to home,” and really she feels just a little guilty with how she’s about to use her clearly upset daughter, “how about you go call Miss Buecks over.”

That’s all it takes to get Stephie running towards her and Azzi follows cautiously behind, only getting further irritated at how Claudia’s mother seems determined to step closer and closer to Paige and the clueless blonde does absolutely nothing to stop it, continuing to smile politely at the other woman. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie comes to a halt in front of Paige, interrupting whatever conversation was going on as she practically forces herself in between the two women, “Mama says it’s time to go home.”

Despite the jealousy simmering her heart, Azzi can’t help that her heart skips a beat at the way Paige’s whole face brightens up at seeing Stephie; clearly relieved at the little girl using her nickname again. 

“Give me one second sweetheart. I’m just a little busy talking to Claudia and her mother-”

“Mama,” Stephie says loudly, cutting Paige off as she turns to Azzi, “do you know if Aunty Chérie is in town?”

“Um- I- uh-” the brunette stutters, not having expected her little girl to bring that up as her gaze flickers towards a frozen Paige whose smile is completely gone, her body going rigid at the mention of Clémence.

“I was just thinking,” Stephie barrels on casually, “maybe we could go see her and she could give me cuddles and kisses since app-ently Miss Buecks is too busy to give them to me-”

The little girl cuts herself off with a squeal as she’s suddenly lifted off the ground and into Paige’s arms; the blonde peppering her lips against every inch of Stephie’s face. 

“Never ever too busy for you and I’m especially never too busy to give you kisses Stephie-bean.”

“Promise,” Stephie holds out her pinky finger and Paige diligently intertwines her own through it, pressing a kiss to their now interlocked pinkies. 

“Promise.”

Shaking her head fondly at her menace daughter’s antiques, Azzi fixes Claudia’s mother with a sweetly saccharine smile as she wraps a possessive hand around Paige’s bicep. She can feel the blonde’s eyes immediately drift towards her, clearly a little thrown off by her forwardness. It had been Azzi’s go-to-move in college whenever Paige’s fanclub would get a little too handsy. She’d sidle up into her girlfriend’s space, marking her territory as subtly as possible. Azzi knows this is a little different. It had been easier back then to play the action off as a protective best friend  warding off boundary-less fans; really it was uncanny the things two girls could get away with under the guise of friendship. But it’s different now that they’re actual adults and she can see the clogs running Claudia’s mother’s head as she starts to piece everything together. 

“Hi I don’t think we’ve properly met. I’m Stephie’s mom, Azzi, nice to meet you,” Azzi says finally, holding out her hand that isn’t still clasped firmly around Paige’s bicep, “I think it’s usually your husband who picks Claudia up from camp right?”

“I’m Stacie,” the woman says, primly returning the handshake, “yeah my husband’s usually the one who picks her up but I had a little time today-”

“Don’t lie Mommy. I heard you on the phone saying you wanted to come pick me up so you could meet Coach Bueckers-”

“Claudia,” Stacie hisses as Azzi narrows her eyes at the woman. 

“You said it’s cause you think she’s really hot-” Claudia manages to get out before her mother furiously clamps her hand over her mouth. 

“Azzi,” Paige whispers under her breath, wincing slightly as the shooting guard unconsciously tightens her grip, unable to keep the irritation of her face as she all but glares at Claudia’s mother. 

“You know kids, they say anything,” Stacie tries to justify, cowering under the sintering heat of Azzi’s stare. 

“Right,” the brunette nods with faux understanding, “well if you’ll excuse us, I think it’s time for us to go unless-” she turns her gaze onto Paige who looks innocently back at her as she hides a smile against Stephie’s stomach, “unless you’re still busy that is?”

Paige shakes her head affectionately as she tugs her arm out of Azzi’s grip, only so she can lock their pinkies together, the angle of it just out of Stephie’s line of sight, “never too busy for you,” she repeats, “let’s go.”

*** 

“Mama, will you tell Miss Buecks that I’m not speaking to her,” Stephie says as soon as the three of them get settled into the car. 

“What,” Paige shrieks, twisting her head around to look at the little girl who decisively looks away, her tiny hands crossed over her chest. 

“Stephie,” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, stretching her legs out in the passenger seat; Paige had insisted on driving this time and she hadn’t bothered fighting against it, “babes I thought you’d gotten over it? You were literally just talking to her.”

“That’s cause I forgot I was mad when Miss Buecks gave me my kisses but I rem-ber now,” Stephie explains. 

“Remember what?” Paige asks frantically, “Stephie-bean what did I do?”

The little girl in question makes it a point to turn her nose up and look directly at Azzi as she answers, “Mama will you tell Miss Buecks that she knows what she did.”

“I really, really don’t. Stephie sweetheart please tell me so I can fix it,” Paige tries again, and Azzi lets herself marvel at how the normally jittery-woman seems to have endless patience for her little girl. 

“YOU GAVE THE OTHER KIDS HIGH FIVES AND CUDDLES AND HUGS AND YOU EVEN LET CLAUDIA ONTO YOUR LAP,” Stephie bursts out emphatically, “you’re not supposed to do that with anyone but ME.”

“I-” Paige looks over helplessly at Azzi who holds her hands up in surrender, determined not to get in between the two of them and their dramatics. 

“You didn’t even ask Uncle Twin to let me be on your team,” Stephie accuses and then like she’s suddenly remembered that she’d made a bold assertion a couple of minutes ago, “Mama could you please tell Miss Buecks that I said all of that.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “I have a feeling she might have heard you.”

“Did you like the other kid’s hugs more than you like mine?” the little girl prods, her eyes suddenly glimmering with tears. 

“Oh sweetheart of course not,” Paige consoles immediately, “I could never like anyone’s hugs more than yours, you know that. Your hugs are the best things in the whole wide world. And Stephie-bean, I thought you wanted to be with Uncle Twin, you said you missed him.”

“Wanted to be with you more,” Stephie pouts stubbornly, “I don’t wanna share my Miss Buecks with the other kids. I don’t want you to hug them or carry them and you definitely can’t give them kisses.”

“I didn’t even give any of them kisses,” Paige protests. 

“Stephie, Miss Buecks is a person, not an object. She’s allowed to hug or carry or kiss-” Azzi tries to explain but is almost immediately interrupted by Stephie who gives her an unamused look. 

“Well is she allowed to hug and carry and kiss Claudia’s Mama then?”

Azzi’s mouth falls open as Paige barely holds in her chuckle at the little girl’s cheeky question, “she absolutely is not allowed to do that.”

“Exactly,” there’s a satisfied grin on Stephie's face as she takes in the still dumbfounded expression on her mother’s face. 

“I just- I meant the kids. She’s allowed to hug or carry or kiss the kids-”

“NO SHE’S NOT.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Paige moves her hands up and down in a calming gesture before she reaches for Stephie hands, “how about this? From now on, I won’t carry any of the other kids and I definitely won’t give them any kisses. But can I at least give them one hug? Just one tiny little hug?”

Stephie ponders over the request for a second, “okay,” she agrees finally, “but only one hug and it can’t be longer than three seconds okay? And then you come and give me three of them right after?”

“Done. I’ll come give you five hugs right after,” Paige grins happily as the two of them shake on it before she turns back around to start driving them towards her house.  

“Mama you can tell Miss Buecks that I’m speaking to her again,” Stephie smiles toothily at Azzi through the rearview mirror. 

“Really?” Azzi responds sarcastically, “I couldn't have guessed.”

“You know,” Paige drops her voice so Stephie can’t hear them, “you’re being pretty sassy for someone who was just as irrationally jealous as a five year old a couple of minutes ago.”

“I was not jealous,” Azzi says indignantly, repeating herself when Paige’s smirk deepens, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Paige, I was absolutely not jealous.”

“Whatever you say baby,” Paige hums quietly as she turns the music up in the car, grinning at Stephie through the mirror when one of their new favorites comes on. 

Azzi preemptively covers her ears as her soft “oh please don’t start singing-” is immediately drowned out by the two other people in the car beginning to sing at the top of their voices. They barely know the lyrics and they’re definitely not on key and really Azzi’s poor ears are bleeding, but as she’s coerced into reluctantly joining in, she thinks this could still be her favorite sound in the whole wide world. 

They’re so enthralled in their cacophony -in each other- as they pull up to Paige’s house, that it takes them a far longer than it should to notice the figure on her porch. It isn’t until they’ve parked in the driveway, and Azzi’s gone around to grab her and Stephie’s overnight bag from the back while Paige lifts Stephie onto her shoulders, and they’re finally making their way up the three steps that lead to the deck, that they finally do. 

All chatter comes to a halt as the boy -well that’s not quite right; not when he towers over Paige and Azzi as he stands up from where he’d been sitting on the lawn chair. It’s been almost four years since she’d last seen him in person and even then he’d been a fleeting face in the crowd. She’s seen plenty of his clips from the rookie year he’d just finished in the NBA but it isn’t the same as seeing him in the flesh now. So much has changed; the baby fat is gone from his face, he’s lankier and longer and there’s a discernible aura of confidence around him; as is expected from a 20 year old man. Yet, as Azzi lets her gaze wander over him, she sees what she’s always seen. She sees that same innocence, that same kindness, that same drive in his eyes that she’d always found reflected in his sister’s eyes too. She looks at him and she still sees a mini version of her Paige. 

*** 

October 2022 

“AZZI,” Drew screams as he runs across the arrival gate, his carry-on suitcase practically abandoned for the flight attendant with him to begrudgingly pick up. 

“DREW,” Azzi’s smile widens as the little boy comes to a halt in front of her, his arms immediately wrapping around her waist, “oh my god you’ve gotten so much bigger little dude.”

Drew scrunches his nose up at her, “you literally saw me like a month ago.”

“And I think you might have doubled in size since,” she ruffles his hair before turning to the flight attendant who’s not so subtly checking her out, “thank you so much for getting him here safely.”

“Oh just doing my duty m’am, especially for a pretty lady like you,” the man says and Azzi winces at his dated flirting technique. 

“This is Azzi,” Drew introduces, irritation seeping into his voice as he tightens his grip on Azzi’s waist, “you know how I told you I’m flying out for my sister’s birthday, this is my sister’s girlfriend and it was her idea to fly me out to surprise my sister. Because you know she’s her girlfriend.”

“Right,” the man grimaces and Azzi has to bite back the laugh threatening to escape as he hastily hands Drew’s suitcase over before barely managing a half-hearted grin, “I um- uh- well I should get back to the uh- plane or something. Tell your- tell your sister happy birthday.”

“Thanks again,” Azzi calls after the man as he all but runs away from them, shaking her head fondly down at Drew who’s giggling into her side. 

“You think if I tell Paige he flirted with you, she’d get him fired?” he asks cheekily. 

“There’s a nonzero chance that she’d at least try,” Azzi agrees as the two of them start making their way out of the airport and towards her car. 

It’s a chilly fall morning and the sun has barely risen in the sky but Drew seems more awake than ever as he practically bounces into the passenger seat, clearly excited to see his sister who has no inkling that he’s coming. The idea had come to Azzi a week or so ago as she’d racked her head for ideas of what to do for Paige for her birthday. She’d done a good job putting up a front for the rest of their team -avidly cheering for them from the sidelines during practice- but Paige had been struggling these last couple of weeks. Azzi knows firsthand what it’s like to watch everyone else play the sport she loves while nursing her own injury and no matter how many i’m fine don’t worry about me spiels she got from her girlfriend, Azzi knew it was killing the point guard to not be out there with their team. 

If she could, Azzi would have liked to have miraculously fixed Paige’s torn ACL as her birthday gift but that was wishful thinking. So instead she’d decided on cheering Paige up with the other thing she loved more than playing basketball: spending time with her baby brother. It didn't take that much convincing to get Bob Bueckers -who’d seen just how despondent his daughter had been those first couple of weeks in that gloomy hotel- to allow Drew to take the first half of this week off of school. From then on, the main difficulty had been keeping it a secret from Paige who seemed to have sixth sense for when something was going on behind her back. It didn’t help that Drew had come close to spilling the beans more than a handful of times. But they’d somehow managed it and this morning, Azzi had rolled out of her girlfriend’s arms much earlier than she would have liked to, ready to give Paige the day she deserved. 

She glances at the clock. It’s almost 8 and Azzi knows that Paige is probably beginning to stir awake. She can almost picture the likely confusion on her girlfriend’s as she’d reach out for Azzi, only to find the spot next to her empty. As if on cue, the sound of a phone ringing vibrates around the car and Drew’s eyes light up at Paige’s name flashing on the media-board. 

“Don’t say a word,” Azzi warns him as she picks up the call. 

“WHAT THE HELL AZZI. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Paige’s irritated voice echoes throughout the car, “DO YOU KNOW HOW RUDE IT IS TO MAKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAKE UP ALONE IN THE MORNING? ON HER GODDAMN BIRTHDAY?”

Despite Azzi’s warning, Drew snickers loud enough for the speakers to pick it up  and the brunette fights the urge to hit her head against the steering wheel when Paige lets out a dramatic gasp. 

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU WITH ANOTHER GIRL. ON MY BIRTHDAY?”

“No Paige I am not with another girl-”

“Well it sounds like there’s a girl with you.”

Drew opens his mouth to protest, clearly agitated with his voice potentially being mistaken for a girl’s but Azzi’s quicker, immediately clamping a hand over his mouth. 

“I am not with-”

“Wait. Why did that voice sound so familiar?” Paige asks and Azzi can picture her scrunching her nose through the phone, “it can’t be any of the girls. I think I saw all of them in their apartments while I was looking for you but it sounds so-”

“It’s no one,” Azzi says hurriedly, “I’m just picking up something for your birthday.”

“I don’t want anything for my birthday,” Paige grumbles, “just wanted to wake up to my beautiful gorgeous girlfriend but no, you couldn’t just let me have that.”

A soft blush, tinted with hues of you make my imperfection feel perfect, creeps up Azzi’s cheeks as Drew teasingly waggles his eyebrows at her, “I promise I have something even better for you.”

“What could possibly be better than morning se-”

“Celebratory cuddles. Right yes what could be better than morning celebratory cuddles,” Azzi babbles, ignoring the weird look Drew gives her as she tries to prevent them from falling in the ditch her girlfriend is unknowingly about throw them into, “oh my won’t you look at that, that sign has all the reasons I shouldn’t try to talk and drive.”

“Baby what? Are you having a stroke. That’s not a thing-

“Oh it totally is and I really have to hang up. Love you baby, see you soon!’

“Azzi-” a loud beep rings through Paige’s protests as Azzi rushes to cut the call, slumping back in her seat with a sigh. 

“Morning celebratory cuddles?” if she wasn’t so embarrassed she would laugh at the side-eye Drew shoots her, “y’all are so weird.”

“Watch it. I will send you back to Minnesota.”

“No you won't,” it’s uncanny how Drew has Paige’s exact smile as he goofily grins at her, “you love Paigey way too much to do that to me.”

Azzi rolls her eyes fondly, “yeah maybe just a little bit.” 

There’s peaceful silence in the car for a while as Drew leans back in his seat, looking thoughtfully out the window. Azzi feels excitement bubble in her stomach in anticipation for Paige’s reaction to seeing her little brother. For as long as she’s known her girlfriend, she’s always known just how special Drew is to her; he’d been more a child to her than a brother and although it hasn’t been that long since Paige has seen him, Azzi could still hear the wistfulness in her voice every night she’d said good-bye to him on the phone. She feels giddy just knowing that seeing Drew again will put that earnest, loving smile she loves so much on Paige’s face. That smile, Azzi thinks, might just be the reason her world keeps turning. 

“Hey Azzi?” Drew says slowly, “can I ask you something?”

“Course you can kid. You can ask me whatever you want,” Azzi reaches out to squeeze the little boy’s hand as he fidgets in his seat. 

“Do you-” he hesitates, sucking in a deep breath, “do you think two people can stay together forever?”

Azzi’s taken aback by the gravity of the question, not having expected to deal with heavy-hitting ones like this so early in the morning. And really the truth is Azzi doesn’t know how to answer this question. It’s the kind of question her own brain conjures up sometimes and she has to distract herself from the way it makes her heart constrict because what if two people can’t stay together forever?

“That’s a heavy question,” she says finally, “where’s this coming from?”

Drew shrugs and his tone teeters on the edge of defensiveness when he answers, “just some things I think about sometimes.”

“I don’t know,” she says carefully, “I’d like to think some people can. I mean my parents have been together for a really long time and I’d like to think they’ll stay together forever.”

“How about you and Paigey?” Drew prods. 

There’s an answer of yes that tastes like asphalt on the top of Azzi’s tongue and so much of her wants to spit it out and have that be the answer she gives Drew. But there are these uneasy shackles of uncertainty, of what if’s, of who knows what the future could do to us, that stops her. And she doesn’t know why she’s so scared of saying yes. Because if she’s honest with herself Azzi can’t really fathom a forever without her girlfriend; not when sometimes it feels like instead of a heart, it’s Paige that beats rhythmically against her ribcage. 

“I really, really hope so,” she whispers. 

“Azzi,” Drew’s voice is coated in sincerity and the brunette hums in response, “you won’t ever hurt my Paigey will you?”

And there it is again, the unpredictability of what could happen next that’s beginning to feel a little suffocating. She wants to give Drew a resounding no because Azzi would rather drive a dagger through her skin before letting Paige get so much as a paper cut but life is so fickle and she’s scared of making a promise she can’t keep. So she makes one that she swears she can. 

“I promise that I will try my absolute best not to hurt your Paigey.”

***

May 2033 

“Well,” Drew Bueckers sneers, his tone filled with contempt as he takes in the way Paige, Azzi and Stephie are practically wrapped into each other, don’t you guys just look so fucking cozy.”

There’s a sinister tension-filled quiet as the three adults -god it’s weird to include Drew as an adult but Azzi supposes that that’s what he is now- look between each other. 

“Umm you owe me a kiss,” Stephie cuts into the silence.

“What?” Drew scrunches his face at the little girl. 

“You said a bad word,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “and Mama says whenever someone says a bad word around me, they have to give me a kiss. So Miss Buecks,” Drew's eyes narrow at the nickname as the little girl lightly taps Paige’s shoulder, “can you turn around and move closer so he can give me a kiss?”

“You don’t, you don’t have to do that-” Azzi tries to intervene. 

“Yes he does Mama,” Stephie interupts her indignantly, “rules are rules right?’

“Stephie-”

“Rules are rules,” it’s Drew who cuts Azzi off this time, his previously stoic face morphing into something warmer as he takes a step closer to her daughter and presses his lips against her turned cheek, “there you go. Am I forgiven for saying a bad word now?”

Stephie grins up at him and Azzi feels a wave of this is how it always should have been pinching at her heart she watches the two of them. 

“You’re forgiven but you have to promise not to do it again.”

“I don’t make promises like that kid,” there’s an unspoken accusation as Drew keeps up a smile towards Stephie but his eyes dart for the briefest second towards the two women around him, “but I promise I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Stephie accepts happily as she reaches over Paige’s shoulder to press her own lips against Drew’s cheek. 

“What was that for?’ he asks a little dazedly. 

Stephie shrugs, “because I think I’m gonna like you.”

“Drew,” Paige whispers finally, gently letting the little girl off of her shoulders, “what are you- what are you doing here?”

“What? A guy can’t just come visit his sister anymore?” there’s an unfamiliar hard edge to Drew’s voice -a stark contrast from how he’d been with Stephie- that makes Azzi flinch. 

“Of course he can but I just- you didn’t- you didn’t tell me you were coming,” Paige presses. 

“Well we've been talking about me coming down for a while but it just hasn’t happened and so I thought- I thought why not just come surprise you but-” Drew purses his lips as he gestures to the trio in front of him, “I think I might be the one who’s surprised.”

“Drew-”

“Actually you know what no,” he clenches his jaw, voice dripping with barely controlled anger, “I’m actually not surprised. Not surprised at all. Because really this- this is exactly what I should have expected from the two of you.”

“Maybe,” Azzi nibbles at her bottom, “maybe we should go-’

“NO,” both Stephie and Paige yell out in tandem as the little girl immediately clutches onto the blonde’s thighs. 

“I don’t wanna go. Miss Buecks tell Mama I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re staying right here with me,” Paige reassures the little girl as she turns her gaze back to Azzi, “you’re not going anywhere okay?”

“Paige-”

“I asked you to stay tonight and you’re going to stay. End of discussion,” Paige says firmly and Azzi lets out a reluctant sight. 

“You asked her to stay? As in stay the night? Oh my god,” Drew scoffs maliciously. 

“Drew,” there’s a warning tone in Paige’s voice as she deattaches herself from Stephie, keeping her voice low, “not right now okay?”

Her brother rolls his eyes, grunting out a “whatever,” but listening to his older sister like he always had and suddenly Azzi feels nostalgic for the little boy she had once known. 

“You’re so tall,” she blurts out, grimacing slightly when he turns to her with a frown. 

“Excuse me?”

“I mean I knew that. I’ve seen some of your highlights and I knew I mean- I knew you were taller and that you’ve gotten bigger and that you’d look stronger and all of that but I just-” Azzi gulps between her babbling, “you just- you look different Drew.”

There’s a shine of warmth in Drew’s gaze for a second but it flickers away faster than it had appeared and his eyes are cold with flecks of betrayal as he looks at Azzi, “that’s what happens as people get older isn’t it? I wouldn’t look so different to you if you’d been around to see me grow up.”

There’s venom laced in every word and Paige immediately opens her mouth to argue with him, but Azzi wraps a hand around her wrist to stop her. Because even if the words seep into her skin and infect it with bruises of guilt and regret, Azzi thinks she probably deserves them. She’d been in Drew’s world for so long and then one day, she just hadn’t been. She thinks he probably could have spewed something even more poisonous and she just might have deserved that too. 

“Are you sleeping over too, Uncle Drew?” Stephie asks softly, unaffected by the tenseness of the adults around her. 

“Uncle Drew?” Drew asks slowly. 

Stephie nods with a grin, “Miss Buecks called you Drew and that’s when I figured it out. Mama and Miss Buecks have told me stories about you and there’s some pictures of you from when you were littler at Nana and Pop's house,” she rambles and Drew’s eyes soften at the idea of Stephie knowing of his existence, “ and just in case you don’t know who I am even though you should,” she gives him a pointed look as if everyone should know who the little girl is, “I’m Stephie. And you’re my Miss Buecks’s brother so that means you’re my Uncle Drew.”

“Right that um-” Drew clears his throats, “that makes sense Stephie.”

“So Uncle Drew, are you sleeping over too?”

“Yeah, yeah I guess I am.”

“YAY!” Stephie squeals as she laces her fingers through Drew and begins to pull him towards the front door, “so Uncle Drew what’s your favorite pizza topping?”

Something wonderful flutters in Azzi’s chest as she watches the two of them interact -it’s a little bit like seeing the past and present harmonically blend into one- but despite that, despite the reassurance that Paige squeezes against her hand, there’s an uneasiness lingering in the back of her mind. That wretched but familiar fear of the future weaves itself through her heart. Between the frostiness from Drew and whatever secret Paige is keeping from her, Azzi can’t help but wonder if these last couple of weeks had simply been a mirage. She can’t help but wonder if this bubble of happiness that they’ve built is about to be burst by a needle of circumstance again. 

[iveleftitwithyou]

casual pt. 2 | paul lahote x reader fluff

you asked, i answered! this is part two to this smut from last night. someone requested this plot for the next chapter and i was so excited i had to write it immediately, so to whoever asked, i hope i did it justice!

thank you guys again for all of the love and support as i find my writing feet for the first time in years. it's been so rewarding to see the little like and reblog notifications come through, y'all are the best. i hope you enjoy!!! ❤️

warnings: mention of sexually explicit material, swearing, fluff

word count: 1.73k

------

you’d never seen Paul look so calm.

he was stretched out on your bed, your comforter resting loosely on his hips - he must have pushed it off when he’d gotten warm during the night. having a body temperature of 108 degrees was not for the weak. soft snores escaped his lips as you admired the softness of his features, your head resting on his bare bicep. you’d been like this for about twenty minutes, just admiring the beauty of your boyfriend as he slept.

your boyfriend. the word that once felt like a weight upon your shoulders was lifted now, a sense of peace overwhelming any fear or doubt associated with the term.

after your, ahem, eventful night on the side of the road, you and Paul had a long conversation about your relationship.

“is it casual now?” Paul smirked, his nose just inches from yours as he hovered over you on the seat.

“you know, i might have to reconsider that,” you sighed, closing the distance to plant a kiss on his lips. he laughed and buried his nose in your neck, kissing the delicate skin softly.

“i had a feeling you’d say that, princess.”

the two of you had stayed up late that night, you explaining your fears about being in a relationship and him finding a way to quell each of them. how did you get so lucky?

being around Paul was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. to everyone else, he was a tough, temperamental asshole, but to you, he was nothing but perfect. it was more than just the imprint - it was your first time feeling so connected to someone, and you wanted to soak up as much of it as possible.

unfortunately, though, you knew you had to wake Paul up soon; before you left last night, you had promised Emily you would come for lunch today.

propping yourself up on one elbow, you placed your hand gently on Paul’s face, fingers gently stroking his chin as you attempted to wake him up without startling him. his face twitched at your touch and he leaned his head further into your palm, but didn’t wake.

your hand slid slowly down to his shoulder, applying gentle pressure as you shook him awake. a look of confusion flashed across his face as he opened his eyes, assessing where he was. when his eyes met yours, the confusion disappeared and a smile took its place.

“g’morning, princess,” Paul mumbled, pulling you into his chest. he let out a sigh as he got comfortable once again, apparently planning to go back to sleep.

“Paul, we have to be at Emily’s at 11. we need to get up,” you made no effort to escape his grasp.

“five more minutes? don’t wanna let you go yet,” he bargained sleepily, petting your hair softly and planting a kiss on the top of your head. he knew he would win.

“fine, but i’m counting in my head.”

after a little more than five minutes, it was really time to get up, or you’d be late. you removed the blankets from yourself, groaning as the cold air hit your exposed legs. you untangled yourself from Paul’s hold, leaving a short kiss on his forehead as you climbed out of bed. you could have sworn you saw him blush.

your first order of business was to take a shower. you’d gotten a little sweaty last night, both for the expected reason and because your boyfriend was essentially a space heater covered by a blanket in your bed. you gathered your clothes, throwing together a random shirt and jeans, not really caring enough to put a lot of effort into your outfit today. Paul sat up on his elbows as he watched you grab a towel out of the linen closet.

“ooh, taking a shower? mind if i join?” he was only half serious.

“you wish, Lahote,” you remarked, turning around to give him a joking side-eye before you shut the bathroom door. maybe next time you’d let him.

—------

the ride to La Push was quiet, but good quiet. the quiet that happens when you feel comfortable with someone.

Paul’s eyes darted back and forth between you and the road, trying to soak in as much of you as possible without crashing the car. “you look so good today, y/n.” he smiled, squeezing your hand softly. “i mean, you always do, but being my girlfriend suits you.”

your cheeks turned red as you looked at him, unable to hide your smile at hearing him call you that. you were his, and he was yours. there was no more uncertainty.

“i think being my boyfriend looks good on you, too.” it was your turn to make him blush.

Paul didn't let go of your hand until he had to shift the truck into park, maneuvering to the end of the dead-end street. he jogged hastily around to your door, opening it for you and helping you out of the tall truck. as soon as your feet were on the ground, he grabbed your hand again, squeezing it once as he offered you a soft smile. 

“guys, Paul and y/n are here!” Seth yelled to the rest of the house, smiling at you both as you and Paul entered the front door. 

“ooh, y/n is here!” Embry repeated excitedly in a high-pitched voice, running over to wrap you in a hug that almost knocked you over. “i missed you sooooo much” you laughed awkwardly, knowing he was just doing it to piss Paul off, but wanting to avoid another fight between the two. last night had been enough.

surprisingly, though, Paul just smacked him upside the head, pulling you into his side tightly after Embry let go.

“wow, no fight about that? she’s changed you…” Embry feigned solemnness as he retreated to the dining room table. you eyed Paul suspiciously, but there was little anger in his eyes.

you and Paul moved to join the other pack members at the table, still attached at the hip. Paul pulled out your chair for you to sit before taking a seat in the one next to you, scooting it as close as possible to your side. Jacob eyed you suspiciously. you knew the boys could tell something had changed between you two, but you weren’t sure if Paul was ready to get into it, so you bit your tongue and smiled timidly back at Jake.

just then, Emily rounded the corner with two giant steaming hot pans of lasagna. the smell made your mouth water; you and Paul had skipped breakfast, so you were extra hungry as you served yourself from the pan. “this looks delicious, emily, thank you.” she smiled, appreciating the gratitude.

after a few minutes of allowing the pack to enjoy his imprint’s cooking, Sam began running through the patrol schedules for next week. it was hard to focus on his words when all you wanted to do was admire your new boyfriend, but you tried your best to remember the shifts Paul was assigned to. you didn’t like asking him about the schedule a million times throughout the week.

Emily came to collect the empty lasagna pans a few minutes later, gesturing for you to follow back into the kitchen. you squeezed Paul’s arm and whispered, “i’ll be back,” waiting for a nod of acknowledgement before standing up from your seat and joining Emily.

“so, what happened? you guys seem different today, in a good way. Paul seems much calmer than normal.”

“if i tell you, you can’t tell anyone, Em,” you sighed, thinking of the teasing you’d get from the pack if they found out what you and Paul did last night.

“well, if he thinks about it when he goes on patrol later today, they’ll all know soon enough.” you had temporarily forgotten this one key aspect of your boyfriend being a shifter - nothing was a secret among the pack.

“oh, god, Em, i’ll never live it down” you buried your face in your hands, cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

“come on, y/n, if they know better they won’t say anything. especially not with Paul around.”

“i hope not,” you winced. “we may or may not have had a… fun night last night, if you know what i mean, and it stirred up a lot of feelings for both of us. i asked him to be my boyfriend.”

“oh my god, y/n!!! finally!!!” Emily squealed, grabbing your hands in hers with a toothy smile on her face. you were grateful she chose not to pry on what you meant by “fun.” she surely knew what you were implying.

“did you tell her?” a deep voice came from behind you, startling you. Paul chuckled as you jumped at the intrusion. you relaxed into him as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, leaving a kiss on your scalp before gently resting his head on it.

“about you being my boyfriend, yes. and you better keep your thoughts quiet on what happened last night, Lahote.”

“woah, what happened last night?” shit, of course Quil had heard that. “you two get it on?”

“i bet they did. they don’t call him ‘lucky Lahote’ for nothing” Embry added, smacking Paul gently on the shoulder. you couldn’t help but chuckle at the nickname despite its implications. Paul was yours now, and you knew his days of one-night-stands were over with.

“can you guys shut the fuck up?” Paul glared at the pair, tightening his grip on your waist slightly. “actually, what happened was that y/n finally agreed to settle and be my girlfriend - something you two idiots will never experience.”

you couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh at the shocked and hurt looks on Embry and Quil’s faces, knowing neither would have a good comeback for that. they both just looked embarrassed, and you were proud of Paul’s wit. it took a second for you to realize that he had not only unashamedly introduced you as his girlfriend, but he also thought you… settled?

“i didn’t settle, Paul. you know you’re too good for me.” you twisted in his embrace, wanting to make eye contact with him to drive the point home. he shook his head before pressing his lips against your forehead.

“i guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

tags: @midnightheat

[yuikomorii]

AYAYUI IDOL AU: Chapter 1

// I present to you… MY FIRST EVER FANFIC! It’s inspired by these headcanons and these posts. As mentioned before, in this story, the Sakamakis are simply regular idols with a vampire-themed concept; they’re not actually vampires or related. Since I noticed how much you all enjoy this kind of content and have been so supportive, I thought you might like a fanfic based on it. ☺️

I’m by no means a professional writer, and my style leans more towards the visual novel/otome game format. Even so, I hope you’ll like it! 💕

Voice announcement: Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived at our destination.

Before you disembark, please take a moment to ensure you have all your personal belongings with you. For your safety, mind the gap between the train and the platform edge as you exit.

We sincerely thank you for choosing our services and travelling with us. It has been our pleasure to serve you, and we hope to welcome you aboard again soon. Take care!

Yui: ( Eh? Is this…—! )

— eyes widen —

I’m here… I’m finally here!

Yui’s Monologue

I can’t believe my dream is actually coming true! All this time, this seemed like a childish wish but right now I truly am in Tokyo…!

Uuh… I’m getting a bit emotional, but can you blame me? It simply feels… surreal.

I never thought my father would agree to let me join a work exchange program in such a massive and dynamic city.

To be honest, I was half expecting him to say no, but it seems he believes in me more than I thought.

Knowing that he trusts me this much… it really makes me want to work even harder to prove he made the right choice.

Yes, that’s so. I will try my best to make father proud!

— takes big breath —

Yui: Nice to meet you, Tokyo. Let’s make this journey one to remember.

Place: Studio

Photographer: And~… pose! Ah yes, exactly like that! Keep on, keep on!

Ayato: ( Man, this shit is so tiring at this point. )

— smiles falsely —

Photographer: W-Wonderful…! Another one, thank you!

— keeps taking pictures —

Ayato: ( Can this woman stop blinding me with that flashlight already? It’s past 11 pm… )

Photographer: Now, a profile sho——

Manager: Hold on.

Pardon my intrusion, but I believe we already have enough pictures for today. Don't you think so?

Photographer: Eh? But we just got star— Oh my, it’s almost 12 am!?

G-Geez, my apologies. I guess the saying “time flies when you’re having fun” must really apply here.

— winks at Ayato —

Ayato: ( Gross! )

Manager: If more promotional pictures are required, we can extend the photoshoot to tomorrow. Watanabe-san, would it be possible for you to arrive earlier if that is the case?

Photographer: With such eye candy around, who could resist spending more time with him~?

Fufu, just kidding. I'll contact the director and get back to you with an answer as soon as possible.

Until then, have a good night! Bye-bye~!

— leaves —

Ayato: Haa… thanks goodness! One more photo, and I might’ve completely lost it.

Manager: I understand completely. Given your schedule, it’s clear you’re quite overworked. Nevertheless, it’s impressive how you still manage to perform so well.

Ayato: Heh… thanks.

— rubs eyes —

Manager: You look a bit tired, Ayato-san. Rest assured, the limousine should be arriving soon.

Ayato: Right, the limo is on its——

( Fuck! I can’t believe I almost forgot about it! )

Wait! Now that I think about it, I’ve got something else to take care of.

So… don’t mind me! Go ahead and take the limo; I’ll call for another one later.

Manager: Haa… Ayato-san.

You're not planning to do something that could get you into trouble, are you?

Ayato: O-Of course not! It’s just… no, it’s nothing important. Just a silly little thing I remembered I had to solve.

— tries to leave —

Manager: Ayato-san!

Ayato: Huh?

Manager: Do NOT let anyone see you, understood?

— Ayato nods and leaves —

???: You’re late.

Ayato: …!

Man, you almost gave me a heart attack!

Laito: My bad~. You came prepared at least, didn’t you?

Ayato: Yeah, yeah.

— puts cap and mask on —

Laito: Nfu, let’s go, shall we?

Place: Street

Yui: Uuh… come on! Why is no taxi in sight?

( It’s been two hours and I still couldn’t find my way to the Airbnb. )

( I knew Tokyo was huge, but I wasn’t expecting the transportation system to be this complicated… )

— looks at sky —

( It’s already late, huh? )

( I wonder if it’s safe for a girl to roam on these streets at this hour. Well, at least I hope it is, otherwise… )

Place: Private Night Club

Laito: Two Cosmopolitans. One for me, and one for that very fine lady over there, nfu.

Ayato: Another glass of Tequila.

Laito: Heh, another one? Is this the fifth by chance?

Ayato: I had a busy week, okay?

Laito: Ah, of course you did. After all, our Ayato-kun is the IT boy of this generation. Always swamped with brand deals, while the rest of us barely get a crumb~.

Ayato: …Not funny.

Laito: C’mon, don’t take it too seriously.

— pats his back —

I doubt any of us could care less about brand deals anyway. The idol job already pays well enough, and with barely any time for ourselves, why would we want to give up even more of our freedom?

Ayato: ( It’s not like it’s my choice though. )

Well, I can’t deny that the love I get is cool and all, but sometimes… hmm, how do I put it? It feels like people only like me because I’m an idol, y’know?

Laito: That’s to be expected, isn’t it? Fans often form a one-sided connection with idols simply because we’re constantly visible and accessible through the media, without really knowing who we are or what we’re capable of.

On top of that, you’re the visual, the face everyone admires. Who wouldn’t be drawn to someone who's not only stunning but also famous? It’s like the perfect package for embodying every girl’s fantasy.

Ayato’s monologue

Laito… he always knows what to say.

Seriously, this guy is so aware of everything around him to the point that it’s becoming unsettling.

And the worst part? He’s not just talking—he’s right, which is why it almost hurts to hear it.

At the end of the day, we idols are just puppets, carefully crafted to feed into the fans’ delusions. They don’t see us for who we truly are, but rather as a fantasy they can cling to.

And we, caught in the spotlight, are forced to live out that role.

Before becoming an idol, I was surrounded by people who kept me around because of my looks. At first, the amount of attention felt good, but as I mature, I realize just how hollow that really is.

I can’t help but wonder… if it weren’t for my appearance or status, would anyone actually treat me nicely? Would anyone be willing to accept me, flaws and all?

Heh… now I just sound stupid. As long as I’m an idol, I doubt I’ll get my answer anytime soon.

Waitress: Here we go, gentlemen. The Cosmopolitan and the Tequila.

Laito: Hello, earth to Ayato-kun, are you still in there?

— waves in front of his eyes —

Ayato: Yeah, yeah. I was just spacing out a bit.

Laito: Nfu, cheers.

Ayato: Cheers.

— they start drinking —

Ayato: Ngh…!

( My chest… it started aching! )

Laito: Hm, you good?

Ayato: Y-Yeah… I just— Ngh!

( It’s getting worse! )

I need some fresh air, that’s all.

— quickly puts on mask and cap —

I’ll be right back.

— quickly goes outside —

( Haa… Haa… what is happening…!? )

Agh… fuck!

( It hurts…! Could this be…—— )

— eyes widen —

( No… No, don’t tell me this is a real heart attack! )

Hnn… Ngh!

( What… what should I do now!? )

???: Quick! Please, drink this!!

— hands him water —

Ayato: Huh…?

— takes it and starts drinking —

???: A-Are you feeling better? I got another bottle in case you need it too.

Ayato: Haa… Haa… It’s okay now, all good.

???: Are you sure…? You really seemed in a lot of pain.

Ayato: Yeah… no worries.

( This girl… she just saved my life, didn’t she? )

By the way, uhm… thanks for that.

???: A-Ah, it’s nothing, really.

As far as I recall from my father, drinking water after alcohol can help reduce chest pain and lessen the severity of a hangover. I’m glad to see that it actually works.

Ayato: Heck yeah, I’m glad to see that it worked too, otherwise who knows how I would have ended up.

— the girl giggles —

???: You should be more careful though. Drinking too much alcohol can be very dangerous.

Ayato: ( Okay, mom. )

Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’m not usually like that.

Moreover… why exactly did you help me?

???: Eh? What do you mean?

Ayato: ( Could it be that she actually recognized me? )

( My face is practically hidden behind the mask and cap, and we’re in the dark, so there’s no way she could have, right? But if she did… )

???: Uuh… I suppose it was out of pure instinct.

Ayato: Instinct, huh?

???: Yup. You see, I heard you struggling, so there was no way I could brush that off.

Ayato: Hmm… But wait a minute, what were you doing all alone at this hour?

( What if she’s a stalker then? )

???: Ah… uhm… T-That’s a bit embarrassing to say out loud.

Ayato: Oh, come on, you straight up saw me about to drop dead from drinking Tequila. There’s no way this could be more embarrassing than that.

???: Actually… today’s my first day in Tokyo, and I’ve been struggling for almost 3 hours just trying to get to my Airbnb.

I tried taking the subway, but there were way too many lines, and I got lost at some point.

As for taxis, every time I tried to flag one down, the driver just ignored me.

Ayato: ( Nevermind, I’m taking it back. This might truly be more embarrassing. )

Pfft, why didn’t you call for a cab then?

???: I couldn’t find any reliable number…

Ayato: Hmm… Alright then.

I just arranged one for you. You’ll just have to tell them your location and wait for them to get you there. There’s also no need for you to pay.

— lends her money —

???: E-Eh!? Thank you… thank you so much! But I’m sorry, I just can’t accept the money!

Ayato: Nah, it’s fine, seriously. After all, you’re the one who helped me first.

Just promise me you won’t tell anyone about what happened today. Understood?

— the girl nods —

Ayato: Heh, great. Well, I guess it was nice to meet you. Now it’s time for me to return.

???: W-Wait! I forgot to catch your name!

Ayato: …!

( So she really doesn’t know me? )

It’s——

( No… it’s too risky. )

Oh look, the cab arrived! You should hurry up!

???: But—

( He left…? )

Yui’s monologue

As the taxi started moving, I found myself looking back, almost subconsciously, hoping to catch one last glimpse of that boy.

Today had been exhausting, but despite the strange circumstances in which we met, those brief minutes spent with him were oddly comforting.

I wonder who he is and what his life is like. It feels a bit silly, I know, to be thinking so much about someone whose name I don’t even know.

But there was something in his presence that made me feel in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.

Whatever it was, it stuck with me, lingering in my thoughts even after we parted ways.

My journey has only just begun, and yet I can’t shake the feeling that meeting him was no coincidence.

I really hope I get the chance to cross paths with him again.

[briefinquiries]

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 24

Tommy Shelby x Reader: Chapter 24

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: Luca Changretta makes his move, crossing a line by targeting the youngest Shelby. In a calculated ambush, the Shelby's are forced into a desperate fight, rattling the foundation of their trust and control.

Word count:  8.8k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language

A/N: I've been so awful at updating, SORRY and thank you all for being patient. maine might lowkey get a snow day tomorrow (rip, but also fingers crossed??), so if we do i might be able to write another chapter :)

--

It had been quiet for days.

The kind of stillness that felt like the whole city was holding its breath. Like something just out of sight was winding itself tighter with every tick of the clock.

The streets were too calm. Even the usual hum of conversation in the betting shops felt subdued, like people were speaking just low enough not to draw attention from whatever shadows lingered nearby. Doors stayed locked a little longer. Eyes lingered a little too long on unfamiliar faces.

Tommy said Luca must be dealing with something in New York. He’d heard rumors, whispers of unrest, tension between families, something about one of Luca’s allies gone missing. A temporary distraction. A wedge in the machine. Whatever the cause, the pressure that had been choking Birmingham like smoke seemed to ease—just slightly.

Polly had gone back to her own house for the first time in a week, insisting she needed real tea and a proper bath or she’d start cursing at people. Finn had started hovering near the older boys again, hopeful and quiet, desperate to be given something—anything—to do. Arthur spent most of the day in the betting shop, sorting the books with a half-smile and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. And John… John cracked a joke at breakfast. A real one. About Arthur’s new haircut, which had earned him a half-hearted shove and a round of laughter that didn’t feel forced for once.

Even Tommy had let himself sit for five whole minutes that morning with a cup of tea he didn’t drink.

Things were almost starting to feel normal again. 

You found him standing by the front window after breakfast, one hand braced against the sill, the other holding a nearly finished cigarette. The smoke curled lazily in the still air, ignored. His eyes were fixed on the street outside, watching the same corner he always did, like he was waiting for something to move, for someone to step out of place. He didn’t blink much. Didn’t shift. Just stood there, tense and silent, like he was trying to piece together a threat he couldn’t quite see yet.

You hesitated before speaking. “Harry said he’s short a hand today. Thought I’d go help at the Garrison. Just a few hours.”

Tommy turned then, his eyes narrowing slightly. “No.”

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms. “It’s been days since anything’s happened, Tommy.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s when people get stupid.”

“I won’t be stupid,” you said calmly. “I’ll be behind the bar, not out wandering the streets. And you’re going to be there anyway, aren’t you? You said you, John, and Arthur were meeting with someone.”

He didn’t answer right away. His jaw clenched, muscles shifting as he stared past you, thinking it through. You could tell he didn’t like the idea of you out in the open, even somewhere familiar. His arms stayed crossed, fingers tapping once against his sleeve, a small habit when he was biting something back.

Eventually, he let out a short breath through his nose and nodded once, sharp and reluctant. “Fine. But you stay inside. Don’t step out for anything. And if something feels wrong—even a little—you tell Harry and he’ll get me straight away. Got it?”

You stepped closer and reached out, resting your hand against the front of his shirt. The fabric was still warm from the morning sun, and you could feel the tension underneath it.

He caught your wrist gently. His eyes locked onto yours, steady and serious and searching yours.

“I mean it,” he said.

You nodded, swallowing. “I know.”

He held your gaze for a moment longer, then dropped his hand. “I’ll be down in the back room by three. Stay where I can find you.”

You headed out for the Garrison just before one. The walk through Small Heath was familiar—same cracked pavement, same rows of soot-streaked brick. You kept your coat buttoned to the collar and your gloves tucked deep in your pockets. The sky was gray, but it wasn’t raining, and the streets were quiet. For once, no one seemed to be staring too long, and no shadows felt like they were trailing behind you.

You kept your pace up, not quite rushing, but not strolling either. The past few weeks had made watching corners, checking over your shoulder, and listening for footsteps that didn’t belong a habit. Even when things seemed quiet, you didn’t let your guard down.

By the time you reached the Garrison, it was already filling up. A few regulars were parked at their usual tables, nursing pints and muttering over the paper. A couple of men from the factory had wandered in early, their work shirts still dusted with coal. The air inside was warm, the floor scuffed, the hum of voices steady but low. 

Harry greeted you with a grateful nod as you stepped behind the bar.

“You’re a blessing,” he muttered, already elbow-deep in washing glasses. “Don’t know how the hell I was going to manage the afternoon rush.”

You smiled faintly. “I missed it here.”

You slipped into the rhythm easily—drying glasses, topping off pints, wiping down counters. The kind of work that let your mind drift while your hands kept moving. Tommy, John, and Arthur arrived not long after and disappeared into the side room with two men in sharp suits and quiet voices. 

Tommy’s eyes found you first.

He gave a small nod as he passed, but he didn’t keep walking right away. He paused at the bar, rested one hand lightly against the edge, and leaned in just enough for his voice to be heard over the quiet hum of the pub.

“All quiet?”

You gave a faint smile, nodding. “So far.”

He studied you for a moment. Then, with the corner of his mouth twitching in something close to a smile, he reached out and gently touched the side of your waist, his fingers brushing the fabric of your dress like he needed to feel you there.

“Won’t be long,” he murmured.

You leaned into the touch, just slightly. “I’ll be here.”

Arthur made a sound behind him, half impatient grunt, half teasing, and John muttered something under his breath about lovebirds.

Tommy cast them both a look, but didn’t take the bait. Instead, he gave you one last glance before disappearing through the side room door with the others. It clicked shut behind them.

You could still hear their muffled conversation through the wall, low tones, nothing distinct. But it was enough to make the space feel protected, for just a little while. Everyone was exactly where they were supposed to be.

You stayed behind the bar, falling into the routine without needing to think much about it. Wiping down the counter. Drying glasses. Restacking the clean ones in neat rows. The usual sounds filled the space, glass hitting wood, stools creaking, quiet conversation in the background.

A few regulars were spread out at the tables, hunched over their pints. Most of them older men, talking low about football scores and council taxes. The radio behind the bar buzzed now and then, playing a scratchy jazz track that didn’t quite fit the room, but no one seemed to care enough to turn it off.

You finished drying a tumbler and placed it on the shelf with the rest, then bent down to grab the small ledger Harry used to track the afternoon’s orders. Nothing unusual. Just another slow, steady day.

You were drying off a short glass when the front door opened with a soft jingle.

You didn’t recognize the man who came in. He wasn’t dressed like a factory worker or one of the usual drinkers that passed through. His posture was straight, his steps steady, none of the tired slouch or fidgeting you were used to seeing in men coming off a shift. He looked put together. Plain coat, well-fitted. Clean shoes. No hat.

He didn’t glance around or take in the room. Just walked straight to the bar like he already knew where he was going and sat down at the far end, quiet and settled, like he had all the time in the world.

You blinked, the cloth stilling in your hand.

He didn’t meet your eye, or say a word. You watched him for a moment, cloth slack in your hand. 

You cleared your throat lightly and stepped a little closer along the bar.

“Can I get you anything?”

Your voice came out steady, casual. But the man didn’t answer.

He didn’t even move.

You waited a beat, brows drawing together.

“Sir?”

Still nothing.

You adjusted your grip on the rag, not because the glass needed more cleaning, but because your hands needed something to do. You weren’t exactly nervous, but something about the way the man sat so still, not moving a muscle, made the air feel heavier. The space behind the bar suddenly felt narrower.

You glanced toward the back room. The door was still closed. You could hear the low murmur of Tommy’s voice through it, along with John and Arthur’s, nothing clear, just the muffled rhythm of conversation.

Everything’s fine, you told yourself.

Maybe he’s just tired. Or lost in thought. Or…

The phone rang, sharp and sudden.

You jumped a little, the sound cutting through the quiet and catching you off guard.

It rang again.

Then, without looking up, the man at the end of the bar finally spoke.

“You’re going to want to answer that.” His voice was low. Smooth. Devoid of urgency, but full of certainty.

You turned to look at him, unsettled by how calm he seemed. He didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

The phone rang again.

A slow, cold feeling crawled its way up the back of your neck. You reached for the receiver, hesitating just a second before lifting it to your ear.

“Hello?”

For a few long seconds, there was nothing but static on the other end. You almost thought it was a deadline, until you heard the heavy breathing. It was light and uneven. Not the breath of someone calm or collected. A little too fast. A little too shallow.

Then, “Hello?”

The voice was small, young, and strained. Your heart dropped. You knew that voice before your mind even caught up.

“Finn?”

A sharp, ragged inhale, he gasped your name. “They’ve got me—” he burst out. “They’ve got me—please—I didn’t know what to do—”

Your heart slammed into your ribs. “Where are you?” you asked, your voice already breaking. “Finn, where are you? Are you hurt?”

“I—I don’t know—” His words tangled over themselves, rushed and panicked. “I was just trying to help—I thought if I followed them, I could find out something—I heard John say they were going to meet someone and I—I thought maybe I could watch from across the street, just in case—”

Your stomach dropped.

“I didn’t tell anyone—I didn’t want to get in trouble—but they grabbed me. They pulled me into a car—I didn’t see their faces—I didn’t see anything—”

He was crying now, or close to it. You could hear the breath catching in his throat.

The words tumbled out, too fast, too choked. You could hear the terror in his voice, that wild edge right before someone starts to scream.

“They said I had to call,” he sobbed. “Said I had to—said if I didn’t—if I didn’t—God, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just wanted to help. I thought Tommy would be proud if I did something real. Please, I don’t want to die—”

Your knees nearly buckled. Your eyes flicked back to the far end of the bar. “It’s okay, Finn. You’re going to be okay. Just breathe— okay, love? Just breathe.”

The man at the bar had his hands folded neatly in front of him, unmoved from the moment he’d sat down. But now—his lips curled. Just slightly in an almost imperceptible smirk. Cold. Knowing. Cruel. Like he was enjoying the show.

Your blood ran ice-cold. But just as you opened your mouth, just as you realized what you were really in the middle of, the voice on the line changed. You heard a quiet shuffle, and then someone else took the phone.

“Put Tommy on the line,” the voice said. It was smooth and controlled. 

You turned toward the end of the bar—but the stool was empty. Suddenly, the man was gone. 

You nearly dropped the receiver. Your voice cracked as you shouted over your shoulder. “Harry!”

Footsteps from the back. Then Harry appeared in the hall, startled, wide-eyed.

“Get Tommy,” you said, breathless. “Now.”

Something in your face must’ve told him everything, because Harry didn’t ask a single question—he just turned and sprinted down the hall.

You held the phone to your chest, pressing it tight like you could somehow stop the sound of Finn’s voice still echoing in your ears. Your breath came in short bursts, your chest tight, the ringing in your ears louder than anything in the room.

You didn’t even notice how badly your hands were shaking until the side room door flew open.

Tommy was first through it, followed closely by Arthur and John. All three of them looked alert, ready for a fight.

Tommy spotted you and stopped in his tracks. His eyes scanned your face, then the receiver clenched in your hand. He didn’t ask again. Didn’t need to.

He was across the room in three long strides, jaw tight, shoulders squared.

“What is it?” he said, his voice low and clipped, already bracing for the worst.

You opened your mouth, but no sound came. Your throat locked up. So you did the only thing you could, and you held the phone out to him.

Tommy took the phone from your shaking hand, his eyes never leaving your face. His fingers brushed yours—steady, deliberate—but the way he gripped the receiver was firm, controlled. Like he was already bracing for what he was about to hear.

He raised it to his ear. No greeting. No hesitation. Just silence.

You stood frozen, watching him.

His jaw tightened almost immediately, the muscles along his cheek shifting. His eyes narrowed, focused on some fixed point across the room, but you could tell he wasn’t seeing it. His whole body went still, shoulders squared, chest rigid, as if he were holding himself back from moving, from reacting.

The room had gone quiet, like everyone else was holding their breath.

“Hello?” he said, flat and even, like he wasn’t going to give whoever was on the other end the satisfaction of hearing anything else.

Another pause.

Then his eyes sharpened.

You couldn’t hear what was being said, but you saw the way his expression changed. First the slight flare of his nostrils. Then his lips pressed into a thin line. His grip on the receiver didn’t move, but something in his stance stiffened, like a pressure valve locking into place.

John and Arthur exchanged a glance, but neither interrupted.

Tommy finally spoke again, quiet and low. “I’ll give you one chance to return him alive.”

Another silence. His eyes flicked down, then away, calculating something even as he listened.

“If he’s hurt, there’s nowhere you can go that I won’t find you.” His tone didn’t rise. He didn’t curse or shout. 

You stepped closer without meaning to, your hands still trembling at your sides.

Tommy nodded once, barely perceptible.

Then, calmly, “Tell him if he touches Finn, I’ll put every man with his name in the ground. One by one.”

He listened a moment longer, then lowered the receiver and ended the call with a sharp click.

You didn’t say anything.

No one did at first. 

The silence in the Garrison was thick—crackling.

Then it all shattered.

“What the fuck was that?” John barked, already moving toward you. “How the fuck did they get to Finn? Where was he? Who the hell—”

Arthur’s voice cut over his. “Where were the guards? He wasn’t supposed to be alone—he wasn’t alone—”

“Did he say where he was?”

“Did they hurt him?”

“Jesus Christ—how—” 

The questions came too fast to answer, their words piling on top of each other, louder with each second. You couldn’t keep up. Couldn’t think clearly. It was all noise—panic, blame, disbelief—and none of it told you what you really needed to know.

Your ears were ringing. Your chest was too tight. You were still standing there, but you didn’t feel your body. All you could focus on was the memory of Finn’s voice, thin and terrified, still echoing in your skull.

You didn’t even notice the tears until you felt the heat on your cheeks.

Tommy reached for you without a word.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, not tight, just firm enough to bring you back to yourself. The noise in the room didn’t stop, but it dropped away somehow. You looked up, and he was already watching you, his eyes sharp but steady, locked onto yours like he was trying to pull you out of the spiral.

“Go home,” he said quietly, just to you. “Straight home. Have Harry or someone walk you.”

You shook your head, throat tightening. “Tommy—no.”

“Yes,” he said calmly. 

“I can’t—please, I need to stay—I need to know. I have to help,” you whispered, voice starting to crack. “You don’t understand—Tommy, there was a man—he was sitting right there. I looked at him. I let it happen—”

“Hey.”

His voice cut through the noise—firm, steady, right in front of you.

He stepped in, closing the space between you, and brought his hands to your face. His palms were warm, thumbs brushing just under your eyes as he held your gaze. Then he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

The closeness made everything else fall away, the noise, the panic, the sick weight in your chest.

“Look at me,” he said, voice low but clear.

Your eyes lifted to meet his.

“Breathe.”

You tried.

His thumbs brushed the tears from your cheeks.

“I need you to listen to me,” he said, voice low and rough. “I can’t help Finn unless I know you’re somewhere safe. Do you understand?”

You nodded, just barely.

Because if you tried to speak, you'd fall apart again.

Tommy’s hands lingered on your face for a moment longer, thumbs warm against your skin.

Then, gently, he pulled back. “Go home,” he said again, quieter now, but firmer.

You opened your mouth to protest, but he didn’t give you the chance.

“I’m going to ring Polly. She’ll meet you there.” He was already reaching into his coat pocket, pulling out his cigarette case with one hand, the other still hovering close like he didn’t trust you to stay upright.

You swallowed hard, your voice rasping when you finally spoke.

“How do you know where to find him?”

Tommy paused, just for a second. It wasn’t doubt you saw—he never doubted himself. But something flickered behind his eyes. Something darker.

“I recognized the voice,” he said. “The man on the phone. He used to work for Sabini. Now he works for Luca.”

You blinked. “And?”

Tommy’s jaw shifted. “I’ve had someone watching him for weeks. In case Luca ever used him.” He looked you straight in the eye. “He just did.”

A cold wave rolled through your chest.

Tommy exhaled through his nose, slow and sharp, then reached for your coat from behind the bar and helped you into it with a tenderness.

“Go,” he said again, softer now. “I’ll be back when it’s done.”

You hesitated—but he gave you one last look, the kind that left no room for argument.

So you nodded. 

…

As soon as the front door of the Garrison shut behind you, Tommy struck a match and lit a cigarette. His hands were steady. They had to be. There was no room for anything else.

Arthur was already throwing questions into the air, his voice sharp and too loud. John was pacing in tight circles, one arm shoved halfway into his coat, like he was ready to bolt out the door and take on half of Birmingham by himself.

Tommy didn’t look at either of them right away.

He took a slow drag, let the smoke sit in his chest, then exhaled hard through his nose. His mind was already turning, every moving part laid out in front of him like a puzzle with missing pieces. He didn’t need noise. He needed facts. He needed direction.

And right now, the shouting was just slowing him down.

Tommy’s voice cut clean through the noise.

“Quiet.”

They listened.

Tommy exhaled smoke through his nose, eyes locked on nothing and everything all at once.

“Frankie Rossi,” he said.

Arthur frowned. “Who?”

“He used to work for Sabini,” Tommy said. “Now he’s Luca’s. I recognized his voice on the phone.”

John stepped forward. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Because I’ve been watching him for three weeks,” Tommy said, turning toward them. “Johnny Dogs has had a man on him since Luca first landed in England.”

He flicked the cigarette into the ashtray and grabbed his coat. “They’re at a house on the edge of Small Heath. Old warehouse front, backs onto the canal. Used to move cargo through there before the war.”

Arthur was already grabbing his gun from behind the bar. “You think they’re keeping Finn there?”

“I don’t think,” Tommy said. “I know.”

The plan was already forming before Tommy even finished speaking.

He moved quickly, heading down to the cellar beneath the Garrison, where the air was cold and close and smelled faintly of dust and whiskey. He pulled back the shelf like he had a hundred times before and opened the lockbox behind it.

Two pistols. A sawed-off shotgun. Boxes of ammunition, neatly packed. The tools of survival. Of retaliation. Of this life.

He handed the shotgun to Arthur without a word. Arthur took it without flinching, like it was an extension of his own hand.

Tommy paused for half a second, his eyes scanning the rest of the weapons before settling on one of the pistols. He checked the chamber. Loaded it. Moved on.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, something tugged at him.

How many more times are we going to do this?

How many more enemies? How many more backroom raids, ambushes, retaliation plots? It had been years of this—years of protecting, losing, rebuilding, and starting the cycle all over again. Every time he thought it was done, another threat came crawling out of the dark.

And now it was Finn.

Finn—who should’ve been in school, not in the crosshairs of men like Luca Changretta.

And you, caught in the middle of it all, tied to him in ways he couldn’t undo. 

He was so fucking tired of watching the people he loved pay the price for the life he built.

For a second, he let himself picture it. Something else, something quiet. A house far from Birmingham. No enemies. No weapons. Just you. Maybe even a family, if you wanted that. A place where no one had to look over their shoulder.

But the thought didn’t last long. Because this was his life. And right now, Finn needed him.

He tucked the pistol into his coat and shut the case.

“Johnny Dogs is already posted across the canal,” Tommy said. “He’s been watching comings and goings since last night. Finn’s still alive.”

“How do you know that?” Arthur asked. 

Tommy didn’t flinch. “This isn’t about killing Finn. Not yet. It’s about leverage.”

Arthur scoffed. “Fucking bastards are using him like bait.”

Tommy nodded once. “That’s exactly what they’re doing. They want me to come to them. And I am, which means he’s alive.”

John strapped on his shoulder holster, jaw clenched. “And if he’s not?”

Tommy pulled his coat tighter, reaching into the inner pocket to check the pistol again. 

“Then we kill every fucking man inside,” he said simply. 

No more questions.

They slipped out through the Garrison’s back entrance, coats pulled tight against the wind. A dark blue car waited across the street, one of the newer ones, quiet and unmarked. Curly was already behind the wheel, engine running low.

He didn’t say a word when they climbed in. Just tipped his cap, eyes straight ahead, and hit the gas as soon as the doors shut.

The drive was quick, no one talking. No one needed to.

The warehouse came into view just off the canal road—weather-beaten and quiet. The windows were boarded, the metal siding streaked with rust. Piles of rotting crates sat near the loading dock, half-collapsed, as if no one had touched them in years.

It looked empty. Abandoned.

But Tommy leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing.

In one of the upper windows, tucked behind a broken slat of wood, he caught the faint glow of a cigarette ember. Brief. Flickering. Then gone.

“They’re watching,” he muttered.

Curly killed the engine a block away.

“Park up two streets over,” he told Curly. “Wait there. If you hear gunfire, bring the car ‘round. Fast.”

Curly gave a tight nod. “Right.”

The moment the car slowed, Tommy was out first, moving quickly across the street with Arthur and John close behind. They stuck to the edge of the buildings, boots scraping low over the cobblestone, ducking beneath windows and slipping into the alley that curved behind the warehouse.

Everything smelled like rust and wet wood.

They went the rest of the way on foot, cutting through the alley, boots silent over gravel and brick, hearts pounding in time with the threat.

Tommy stopped at the corner of the building and scanned the loading dock, eyes catching on a narrow side entrance, half-blocked by a stack of crates, but unlocked if you knew how to move right.

He turned to Arthur and John, voice low.

“Johnny Dogs says three inside. Two near the front, one pacing. Finn’s in a back room—tied up, probably watched.”

Arthur’s face was tight, his hands already flexing around the grip of the shotgun.

Tommy went on. “John, you take the rear. Go quiet. If they hear you, they’ll use him.”

John nodded, jaw set.

Tommy turned to Arthur. “You’re with me. Side door.”

He looked at them both—calm, controlled, but cold beneath it.

“We get in. We get Finn. If they point a gun, you shoot. No warning.”

They nodded.

Tommy turned back toward the warehouse before moving. The side door creaked open with a groan, the kind of sound that made every muscle tighten.

Tommy went in first, gun drawn low, Arthur right behind him. The air inside was cold and stale, the sharp tang of oil and old metal cutting through the dust. Their boots moved over concrete scattered with debris—empty crates, glass shards, scraps of rope.

It was too quiet. No shouting. No footsteps. Not even breathing.

Tommy swept the first room with the barrel of his gun. Empty.

They moved forward, careful, step by step, through a narrow corridor that led toward the back of the building. A door at the end hung slightly ajar. A faint light spilled through the crack—just enough to show movement.

Arthur raised the shotgun slightly, finger brushing the trigger.

Tommy glanced back and gave a single nod.

He pushed the door open.

Once they were inside, his eyes instantly landed on Finn. He was tied to a chair, wrists bound in front of him, mouth gagged. His eyes were wide and glassy with fear, blinking rapidly when he saw them. He made a sound—choked, desperate.

Tommy was already moving.

“Clear the room,” he snapped, voice tight.

Arthur swept the far side as Tommy crossed to Finn and dropped to one knee. He cut the ropes with a quick flick of his blade.

“You’re alright,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re alright. We’ve got you.”

But the moment the ropes fell and Tommy pulled the gag free—

Gunfire erupted. 

The warehouse windows shattered as bullets tore through the wall, ripping into the crates stacked nearby.

“Down!” Tommy yelled, grabbing Finn and shielding him with his own body.

Arthur fired blindly toward the upper floor, cursing, the shotgun blasts echoing through the rafters—but there was no clear target. Just shadows moving too fast, boots scrambling over steel beams above them.

“They’re up high!” Arthur shouted. “Can’t get a shot!”

“Cover us!” Tommy barked, his voice raw with urgency.

He crouched low, arm around Finn, trying to move—but more gunfire cracked through the air, forcing them back behind a stack of crates. 

Then, another door slammed open across the room.

“This way!” John’s voice rang out. He burst through the far side of the warehouse, eyes wide, gun raised. “Come on—back entrance’s clear!”

Tommy didn’t hesitate.

He yanked Finn to his feet and threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close as they bolted toward John.

Gunfire followed them.

Tommy felt a sudden burn slice across his upper arm—sharp, hot, fast. A bullet had grazed him, tearing through his coat and skin. But he didn’t stop.

“Keep going!” he growled at Finn, forcing himself to keep pace, arm still tight around the boy.

Arthur laid down cover behind them, shotgun echoing through the rafters.

Tommy shoved Finn through the door first, John grabbing him and pulling him clear. Tommy followed a second later, nearly stumbling from the pain in his arm. Arthur barreled through right behind them, breathing hard, shotgun still in hand. He spun to slam the door shut, eyes scanning the alley behind them.

“Fucking trap,” he growled, jamming a rusted metal rod through the handles to seal it. “They wanted us boxed in.”

Tommy turned to Finn, ready to tell him to keep moving, but the look on John’s face stopped him cold.

“Tommy—” John’s voice was sharp, panicked.

Tommy’s eyes dropped.

Blood. Seeping fast through Finn’s shirt, soaking the boy’s side. His knees buckled as the adrenaline started to crash, and John barely caught him in time.

“I’m fine—” Finn mumbled, swaying, trying to stay upright.

“Christ,” Tommy snapped, stepping in and grabbing him before he could fall. He pressed a hand to the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. His own arm throbbed from where the bullet had grazed him, but it didn’t matter. Not right now.

“Help me get him out,” he barked. “Now.”

John adjusted Finn’s arm over his shoulder. Together, they half-dragged, half-carried him down the alley, boots pounding against wet pavement.

Arthur ran ahead. “Car’s waiting!”

Tommy’s jaw was clenched tight, blood smeared across his palm, the boy’s weight dragging heavily between them. Finn was still conscious, but barely—his head lolled, breath shallow, eyes fluttering open and closed.

“Stay with us, Finn,” Tommy muttered, more command than comfort.

“I’m—I’m okay,” Finn tried, but his voice was faint, the words slurred.

“‘Atta boy,” Tommy said. “Just hold on.”

They rounded the corner, and the car came into view, engine running, headlights cutting through the mist. Curly had the back door already open, face pale as he took one look at Finn and swore under his breath.

“Get in!” Arthur barked.

Tommy and John eased Finn into the backseat, careful but fast. Tommy climbed in beside him, pressing down hard on the wound with his sleeve as Finn groaned in pain. Blood was everywhere—on the seat, on Tommy’s hands, on Finn’s shirt already clinging to his skin.

Arthur slammed the door and jumped into the front. “Drive, Curly. Now.”

The car peeled off before the doors were even fully shut.

Tommy leaned over Finn, voice low and steady. “You’re alright. We’ve got you. Just keep your eyes open.”

Finn nodded weakly, but his eyelids were already drooping again.

Tommy looked up at John across from him. “How far to the house?”

“Ten minutes if Curly doesn’t slow down.”

Tommy pressed harder against the wound, ignoring the searing pain in his own arm.

Finn’s head lolled to the side, a low groan leaving his throat.

“Finn!” Tommy said loudly. He glanced down. “Stay with us, Finn.”

But Finn’s breathing was changing—getting faster, more uneven.

And then, he let out a sudden cry. “It hurts!” His voice was hoarse and high with panic.

He jerked beneath Tommy’s hands, trying to twist away. His legs kicked out, heel slamming into the floorboard.

“Don’t touch it! Don’t—don’t—”

“Jesus—” John lunged forward, grabbing Finn’s shoulders as he thrashed. “Finn, calm down! It’s alright!”

But it wasn’t.

The adrenaline that had kept him upright was burning out fast, and now the pain was rushing in, full force. Finn’s body bucked again, arms flailing, knocking into Tommy’s injured arm hard enough to make him grunt.

“Hold him,” Tommy snapped, jaw clenched.

Arthur turned from the front, alarmed. “Christ, what’s happening?!”

Tommy pinned Finn’s torso with one arm and pressed the other down over the wound, even as the boy screamed.

“Stop—! It hurts, Tommy—please!”

Every word was like a blade to the gut. But he didn’t let go.

“You want to live?” Tommy growled, even as his voice cracked at the edges. “Stay fucking still! You hear me?”

Finn sobbed, shaking, but the fight started to drain from him, muscles twitching under Tommy’s grip.

Tommy didn’t loosen his hold. Didn’t let himself soften. Not now. Because if he did, he’d lose the edge—and that could get Finn killed.

So he kept his head down, eyes locked on the blood, and waited for the next corner to bring them home.

The car screeched around the final corner, tires skidding on the wet cobblestone. The house came into view—dim porch light flickering, front steps slick with rain.

Tommy didn’t wait for the car to fully stop.

He threw the door open and climbed out, blood already cold on his hands and sleeves. His coat was soaked through—some of it Finn’s, some of it his own—but he barely felt it.

“John— Get his legs.”

John moved fast, grim-faced, lifting Finn as Tommy took him under the arms. The boy was limp now, head lolling back, face pale and streaked with sweat. His shirt was soaked in blood, clinging to his chest like it had been painted on.

“Easy,” Tommy muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Don’t drop him.”

The front door flew open. Polly stepped out first, already rolling up her sleeves, but her usual composure was shaken. Her eyes locked on Finn, and for just a second, her breath caught. “Christ,” she muttered under her breath, already moving forward.

Then you appeared behind her, barefoot, hair still damp from the bath, one hand braced against the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

Your eyes landed on Finn.

Tommy saw the moment the terror hit you. You straightened, voice tight but clear. “Bring him inside. Set him on the kitchen table.”

Polly turned on her heel. “I’ll get towels. Scissors. Whiskey.”

“Boil some hot water,” you added. “And bring anything clean—we’re going to need pressure on that wound until I can see it properly.”

John pushed past you to open the door wider, and Tommy followed, Finn sagging between them. His body felt smaller than it had just minutes ago—light and fragile and far too quiet.

They laid Finn out on the kitchen table, his body slack, blood soaking through the towel Tommy had pressed to his side.

Polly was already moving—dropping a pile of clean rags, bottles, and scissors onto the counter with a loud clatter, hands working fast. You had your sleeves pushed up now, eyes scanning the boy’s body like a battlefield, checking for exit wounds, for signs of shock, for how much time you had. 

Tommy stood back, silent, his hands still covered in blood.

He felt it cooling now, sticky between his fingers, seeping into his cuffs.

“Pulse is weak,” you said, mostly to yourself, voice sharp and clear despite the paleness in your face. 

“Where is it?” Polly asked, already soaking a cloth in the boiled water.

“Lower left side,” you replied. “Looks like it might have nicked something.” 

The chair scraped loudly as Polly pulled it closer, dropping to her knees beside the table to cut Finn’s shirt away. You took a fresh towel, pressed down hard on the wound, and Finn flinched—still barely conscious, but the pain was enough to pull a groan from his throat.

“I know, I know. Sorry, sweetheart,” you whispered, your hand steady even as your voice cracked.

Tommy leaned against the doorframe, watching. Too still. Too quiet. His hands were stained with Finn’s blood, dried now along the cracks in his skin, soaked into the sleeves of his coat. It clung to him like the weight of every bad choice he’d ever made.

He should’ve done more. Should’ve seen the setup for what it was. Should’ve anticipated the ambush. He’d known Luca was clever—calculated. And still, he’d walked right into it. Dragged John and Arthur in with him. Dragged Finn.

He was supposed to protect his family.

And he was failing. Again.

Your eyes lifted suddenly, catching his, just for a second.

It wasn’t anger in your face. Not even shock anymore. It was fear. The real kind. The kind that stayed in your bones long after the bleeding stopped. And somehow, that look hit harder than the bullet had. Because you were supposed to be safe, too. 

And standing there, helpless, Tommy realized what scared him most wasn’t that he’d nearly lost Finn. It was knowing this wouldn’t be the last time. Not as long as he was in charge. Not as long as they lived in his world.

Suddenly, Polly brushed past Tommy, coming back in the room with an armful of bandages and bottles, her shoulder bumping his as she moved toward the table.

He flinched, barely, but it was enough.

You’d been focused on Finn, hands soaked and steady, but at that, your head snapped up. “Are you hit?”

Your eyes scanned him, zeroing in on the tear in his coat sleeve. Dark blood was seeping through the fabric around his upper arm. It wasn’t gushing, but it hadn’t stopped either.

“Tommy.”

He tried to brush it off. “It barely touched me.”

You didn’t move. “Take off the coat,” you said, voice sharper now. “Now.”

He hesitated, eyes flicking to Finn still unconscious on the table, attention now fixated on him. 

“It’s just a graze,” he muttered, jaw tight. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” you snapped. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’ve bled before,” he said flatly. “Plenty of times. Focus on Finn.”

You stepped in front of him, towel and whiskey in hand. “That’s not the point.”

He met your eyes, and for a moment, there was something almost defensive there. “You think I can’t handle a scratch?”

“Christ, you’re not invincible!” you snapped, your voice rising louder than you intended. 

He stared at you, caught off guard, the anger in your voice slicing clean through the fog of blood and pain and guilt. 

He finally gave in with a muttered curse, pulling his coat off one arm with a wince. The shirt beneath was soaked through, the fabric torn where the bullet had grazed the muscle.

You grabbed a clean towel from the stack and moved around the table toward him.

“Sit,” you said firmly.

“I’ll stand.”

“You’ll sit,” you repeated, already reaching for the bottle of whiskey Polly had left on the counter. “Why do you have to make everything so damn difficult?” 

He didn’t move. Just stared back at you, jaw set, like sitting down would somehow make it real—make him look weak, or worse, make him feel it.

You stared at him, chest tight, rage and worry caught somewhere between your ribs. His arm was bleeding. His shirt clung to the wound. He was in pain, but still too proud to stop moving, too locked into that damn Shelby armor to admit it.

“Fine. Fucking forget it, then. I’m done.” You let out a frustrated sigh, turning your back to him.You shoved the supplies into Polly’s hands, and stepped back. “Here, you do it.”

Polly didn’t ask questions. Just took the cloth and whiskey, already stepping in.

And you returned to Finn, where your help was actually wanted.

Tommy stayed standing for a beat longer, watching you from across the room.

Your back was to him now, hands moving with purpose as you leaned over Finn, murmuring something low and steady. 

Polly moved around him without a word, inspecting the wound. But Tommy wasn’t paying attention anymore.

And he couldn’t even blame you.

He looked down at the towel in Polly’s hands, at the blood on his sleeve. He didn’t want you to see him like this—tired, bleeding, worn down. He didn’t want you to look at him and see someone breakable and vulnerable.

Because if you stopped seeing him as the one who kept everyone safe, then maybe that meant he really wasn’t. Maybe tonight had proven it.

Polly pressed a cloth to his arm, muttering something about stitches, but Tommy barely heard her.

His eyes were still on you. You were kneeling beside Finn, one hand steady on the boy’s shoulder, the other dabbing gently at the wound with a clean cloth. Your sleeves were rolled up, stained with blood. The set of your jaw was tight, your movements practiced—but your face told a different story.

There was pain there. Not the kind that showed up in screams or gasps, but the quieter kind. The kind that settled behind the eyes. That kind of sorrow that came from watching someone small and innocent hurt—again.

Your brow creased, and for a moment, you pressed your lips together like you were trying not to shake. Not to cry.

And you wouldn’t look at him.

He wanted to say something. Anything.

But he didn’t. He just watched you, silently, as Polly dabbed at the bullet graze on his arm. The sting barely registered.

Because all he could think about was how close you were—how your hands moved with care, how your face held everything you weren’t saying—and how far away you felt.

The tension in the kitchen was thick, broken only by the low crackle of the fire and the rustle of fabric as you worked.

Tommy didn’t look away from you, but it was Arthur who finally spoke.

“Is he—?” His voice was gruff, uncertain. “Is he gonna be alright?”

John hovered behind him, pale and restless, arms folded tight across his chest.

You didn’t look up. You were too focused, one hand applying pressure to Finn’s side, the other shifting his shirt back to expose the wound more fully.

“I don’t know yet,” you said, voice low but firm. “It’s still bleeding more than it should.”

Polly looked up from where she was finishing Tommy’s bandage.

“There’s no exit wound,” you said, shaking your head. 

John swore under his breath.

Polly stood then, wiping her hands, her face pale but composed. “What do you need?”

“Boiling water, the sharpest needle you’ve got, and strong thread. And someone to hold him down if he wakes up.”

Arthur moved without being asked, already heading toward the stove. John didn’t move. He just stared at Finn like he was willing him to start breathing normally again.

You were already reaching for the cloth again, pressing it gently to Finn’s side to slow the bleeding while you worked.

Tommy watched from the chair, his arm bandaged, but his entire body rigid. He’d stopped feeling his own pain a while ago.

You cleaned around the wound as gently as you could, your hands moving with methodical focus. The cloth came away soaked again, darker now. The bleeding hadn’t slowed.

You’d stitched worse in the war. You’d stopped worse bleeds, clamped worse wounds—but not in a kitchen, not with a boy this young, not with this many eyes watching every move you made like it was life or death.

You pierced the skin with the needle once, then twice, working quickly, but every time you pressed, Finn’s breathing hitched again—high and sharp, like he couldn’t quite pull enough air in.

Then you saw it.

The rise and fall of his chest had gone uneven again. Too shallow. Too quiet.

Your hands paused.

“Something’s wrong,” you said quietly.

Polly stepped closer. “What is it?”

You looked up—face pale now, voice thin. “I think the lung’s collapsed.”

That silenced the room.

You glanced back down at Finn. His chest was barely moving now, breath shallow and sharp, each one sounding more strained than the last. His lips were starting to lose color. No matter how much pressure you applied or how steady your hands stayed, it wasn’t enough.

“I can’t do this here,” you said. “Not without a proper chest tube. Not without—everything. I can’t—” Your voice cracked. “I don’t think I can fix him.”

Your hands hovered over Finn’s chest like you didn’t know what to do with them anymore. The cloth was soaked through again. You pressed down, but your fingers were starting to shake.

“I don’t know how to help him,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else.

The silence that followed felt heavy, like the whole room had stopped breathing too.

Then Tommy stepped forward. “Then we take him to the hospital,” he said, voice low but solid.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, on the edge of unraveling.

Arthur was already grabbing his coat and heading towards Finn without waiting for permission. John moved toward the front door.

Polly gently touched your back. “Go with him.”

Still frozen in place, you nodded once.

Tommy helped Arthur shift Finn’s weight carefully, lifting him with practiced coordination—one arm under his knees, the other behind his back. Finn didn’t stir. His head lolled slightly against Tommy’s shoulder, lips parted, breaths faint and uneven.

Tommy’s sleeves were streaked with blood again, soaking into the fresh bandage on his own arm. He didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

You looked over at him briefly as you grabbed the last of the cloths and followed him toward the door.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, voice cracking.

Tommy didn’t stop walking. But he glanced down at Finn, then over at you—just once. There was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something that almost looked like it might become a reply.

But he didn’t say anything.

His jaw tightened, gaze shifting forward again as he adjusted his grip on Finn.

And then Polly’s voice came, quiet but firm behind you.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” she said.

You turned slightly, caught off guard by the weight in her voice. She was standing in the hallway now, hands stained with blood, shoulders squared.

“You’ve saved this family more times than I can count,” she said. “Tonight included.”

You stared at her, throat tightening again.

Polly didn’t flinch under your gaze. She meant every word—stood there like the house itself wouldn’t be standing without you. Like she knew what you’d done, and needed you to know it too.

But still… you nodded once. A small, uncertain gesture. Not quite believing it. Not tonight.

Then you turned.

Tommy was already at the door, Arthur just ahead of him, holding it open as the night air swept in cold and sharp.

You followed them out into the dark, the weight of Polly’s words still hanging in the hallway behind you.

John had the car waiting at the curb, engine running, headlights spilling light across the cobblestones. He jumped out the moment he saw you, flinging open the rear door as Tommy and Arthur carefully maneuvered Finn toward it.

They worked in sync—Arthur easing Finn into the backseat, Tommy supporting his head and shoulders, settling him gently across the bench. Finn was barely responsive now, his breathing shallow and rattling, one hand twitching weakly as they adjusted him.

“I’m going in the back with him,” Arthur said, climbing in beside Finn without waiting for an answer.

Tommy followed, slipping in next to Arthur, one arm braced behind Finn to keep him upright.

John looked over at you. “Come on then.”

You slid into the front passenger seat, pulling the door shut just as the tires rolled forward. No one spoke at first.

The city passed by in a blur, wet streets, shuttered shops, lamplight glinting off puddles. The quiet in the car felt heavy, like everyone was trying not to breathe too loudly.

In the back, Finn let out a low, pained sound. Arthur leaned in, murmuring something under his breath, and adjusted the blanket Polly had wrapped around him.

“That warehouse was a fucking setup,” John muttered after a while, hands tightening on the wheel. “They were watching us the whole time.”

Arthur gave a grunt in agreement. 

“They knew we’d come,” John added, glancing in the rearview. “Knew we’d be too focused on Finn to see the rest of it.”

Tommy said nothing. You glanced over your shoulder briefly. He was staring at Finn—his expression unreadable, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the tension all the way through his shoulders.

His injured arm was pressed tight against his side, blood still soaking through the bandage beneath his coat. But he didn’t seem to feel it. Or he refused to.

The hospital came into view just ahead—pale brick and glowing windows, too quiet for what it was. John pulled the car up near the entrance, tires crunching over wet gravel, engine still humming.

Before the car had even fully stopped, Tommy spoke.

“Park the car,” he said to John, voice low but clear. “Wait fifteen minutes before coming inside. We don’t need all of us storming in. One Blinder’s enough to send the nurses running.”

John nodded, throwing it into park. “You sure?”

Tommy was already opening the back door. “Yeah. You too, Arthur. She’s coming with me.”

No one protested. Together, you lifted Finn out of the backseat. His head rolled slightly against Tommy’s shoulder, but he was still breathing, barely.

Tommy’s jaw tightened. “Let’s go.”

You nodded, falling into step beside him as the hospital doors slid open ahead of you, the lights inside too bright and sterile after the dark chaos of the last few hours.

The doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, and the second you were through, Tommy’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. 

“We need help!”

Heads turned. A nurse behind the front desk froze for half a second before jumping to her feet and calling for a stretcher.

Within moments, two more nurses and a young doctor came rushing down the corridor toward you.

“Gunshot wound,” you said quickly, breathless. “Male, twelve. Entrance wound low on the left side, we think the lung’s collapsed. He’s losing blood fast.”

“Is he breathing?” one of the nurses asked, already pulling on gloves.

“Yes,” you answered. “It’s shallow—one side more than the other. He’s been like this for at least twenty minutes.”

They didn’t hesitate. One nurse reached for Finn’s legs while another supported his back, and gently, they took him from Tommy’s arms.

Tommy didn’t let go right away.

The second they pulled Finn’s weight from him, it was like something dropped out of his chest. He straightened slowly, blood smeared up both arms, across the front of his coat. The warmth of it gone, leaving only the weight behind.

The nurses disappeared down the corridor with Finn on the stretcher, voices overlapping—orders, vitals, prep.

And then it was quiet again. You stood beside him, still staring down the hall where they’d taken Finn. The doors had already swung shut behind the stretcher, and the sound of rushing feet had faded.

Silence pressed in again. The kind of quiet that made everything feel worse.

You looked down at Tommy’s hands. Blood everywhere. Caked along his knuckles, soaked into the sleeves of his coat, smudged across the edge of his collar.

Still, without thinking, you reached for him. 

Your fingers brushed his first, tentative—but he didn’t pull away. You threaded your fingers through his, gently, like you were afraid he’d vanish if you held too tight. 

He looked down, eyes flicking to the contact, then up to your face.

His hand was warm, but stiff. Like even now, even after everything, he wasn’t sure he deserved this—your touch, your calm, your choice to stay.

For once, he didn’t speak. He didn’t argue. Instead, he just stood there, letting you hold his hand like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

And maybe it was.

In the silence of the hospital corridor, with fluorescent lights buzzing and footsteps echoing from down the hall, it was the only real thing left. 

Just you.

And him.

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[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 16

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15

A/N: I might start being silly and include fake instagram posts for this fic, one of them included in this one. I just hope it shows up LOL. Of course, I can't find exact pics for the situations I need them for, so the pictures in the posts are just there for you to see the poses/style of the pics I have in mind, and you picture the cast + Isla for them.

“Now this is what I’m talkin’ about,” Cleo coos, the satisfied smile evident in her voice as she stretches on the chair, dark skin glowing under the sun.

Isla grins from her own chair, laying on her stomach with the sun on her back, mostly exposed thanks to her bikini, while she reads the latest Emily Henry book laying before her. Music plays from a speaker somewhere, burgers and hot dogs being cooked on the grill manned by John B, as the rest of them lay and laze around on the deck of The Druthers, Sarah’s dad’s yacht.

It’s not often they hang out at Sarah’s house, and even less so on Ward’s yacht. Most of their time is spent on The Cut, at the beach, the Chateau. It’s where they’re most comfortable together, as a group. But when it’s just them, with no one else disrupting them, moments like these where they can use the yacht and it just be their group, they take advantage of being on Figure Eight. The Cut is their side of the island, no doubt, but between Sarah’s, Isla and Kie’s homes being on Figure Eight, Cleo coming over all of the time for girls’ days, JJ and Pope making deliveries on Figure Eight for Heyward, and John B, of course, spending time at Sarah’s place, they all end up spending time on this side of the island, too.

Isla knows, though, some of her friends aren’t always totally comfortable being here, since The Cut is what they truly know. Sometimes, if they’re feeling particularly stubborn—especially JJ—it’s like pulling teeth trying to get them to hang out somewhere on Figure Eight, or even just Sarah’s house. And Isla gets it; Kooks are assholes and when they see outsiders—or Pogues—they get all righteous and pick fights. Isla knows that Pogues can sometimes be just as bad over on The Cut, but at the same time, no one really kicks out the Kooks when they crash Pogue parties. So Isla can’t really blame her friends for not coming to Figure Eight if they don’t have to. It feels too Kook-like, according to JJ, and Isla agrees sometimes.

But today is an exception. It’s a beautiful day and Sarah had asked Ward if they could use the Druthers; not to take it out or anything, but leave it sitting at the Camerons’ dock while the Pogues hung out on it, grilling food and drinking, ahem, responsibly. 

They wanted to just have a chill hang out following JJ quitting his job, even though he didn’t want to be in Kooklandia. But Sarah had given him puppy dog eyes and Kie had smiled flirtatiously, and so he had joined them on the yacht, too. Plus, with enough beers and a few hits of the joint Kie had rolled, JJ has mellowed out.

Kie hasn’t said if anything happened between her and JJ when she left the yacht club with him, despite Isla questioning her. Isla hopes that her sister would tell her if something did happen, but that hope itself seems a little hypocritical, coming from her. So, Isla doesn’t push.

“How much longer on the food, John B?” Kie asks where she sits on the cushioned bench stretching along one side of the deck. She plucks the strings of her ukelele, playing the tune of the Arctic Monkeys song playing through the speakers.

“Two minutes,” John B calls back, waving at the smoke rising from the grill. Next to him, Pope had sliced tomatoes and pulled lettuce leaves, and is now slathering mayonnaise on the burger buns. They both stand shirtless in just swimming trunks, though John B wears a Kiss the Cook apron that Sarah gave him to shield his bare chest from potential oil splatters. 

Before lunch is served, Isla places a bookmark in her book before getting up, heading inside the lodge to go to the bathroom. She sees Wheezie on the couch, laying comfortably and seemingly playing a game on her phone. She had asked to hang out on the yacht with them today, and since they all like Wheezie, there was no reason not to invite her.

After Isla quickly uses the bathroom, she walks back out and smiles at the youngest Cameron. “How’s it going, Wheezie? Why’re you sitting in here?” Isla asks, sitting at the end of the L-shaped couch to face Wheezie laying on the other end.

“I get burnt too easily, no matter what kind of sunblock I use,” Wheezie says as she sits up, back resting against the arm rest.

“Well, the food is about to be done,” Isla says, glancing over her shoulder out the sliding glass doors. Looking back at Wheezie, she grins teasingly. “Want me to bring your food in here for you?”

Wheezie rolls her eyes, but she grins. “I think I’ll survive.”

Isla laughs as her gaze shifts, catching sight of the few beaded bracelets Wheezie wears on her wrist. Isla’s smile turns softer, Rafe’s face flashing through her mind. She drags her teeth across her bottom lip before commenting, “I like your bracelets. They’re pretty.”

“Oh, thanks,” Wheezie smiles, raising her wrist to give it a little shake of her bracelets.

“You make them yourself?” Isla asks, despite knowing the answer.

“Yup,” Wheezie answers, pushing up her glasses. “I have a huge bead collection. I even sell them online sometimes.”

“Yeah?” Isla grins, eyebrows rising. “Can you make me one? I’ll pay,” she adds, wiggling her eyebrows.

“First one’s free for friends,” Wheezie replies, which only widens Isla’s grin.

Just then, John B’s voice calls out, “Food’s ready! Come and get it!”

As she and Wheezie get up, the younger girl asks, “I have, like, a crap-ton of colored beads and different shaped beads, like stars and hearts, stuff like that. Is there anything you want specifically?”

Isla considers for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek. Rafe’s eyes flicker through her mind. “Baby blue beads, if you have them? And heart beads.”

Wheezie nods a couple of times. “I can do that!”

“Thanks, Wheezie,” Isla smiles as they step back out onto the deck, catching sight of her friends gathering towards the food.

Isla helps herself to a burger, piling on some lettuce and slices of tomatoes before stepping over to the cooler to grab a drink. Except when she opens it, her eyebrows furrow together. “Hey,” she calls over her shoulder. “Where are the sodas?”

“No sodas!” JJ shouts where he sits towards the front, raising his can of beer. She doesn’t need to see his eyes, which are shielded by sunglasses, to know he’s drunk as she catches sight of that lazy grin on his face. “Beer day only! You think Kooks drink Coke or water when they’re chilling on their yacht?” he snorts, patting the ledge of the boat.

“Seriously?” Isla groans. She’s already one beer in and isn’t particularly in the mood for another. “There was supposed to be water in here, too.”

“Come on, man,” Pope sighs in exasperation towards JJ, hand resting on the top of his cap.

Isla puts her plate down, taking another paper plate to cover her food from potential flies or bugs. “I’m gonna get the drinks,” she says, huffing out a breath as she reaches for her denim shorts and pulls them on. She knows the soda cans and water bottles are in the fridge at the house.

“I can go,” Pope says. “It’ll be heavy.”

Isla scoffs, throwing him a look. “I’ve lifted heavier shit at the restaurant,” she reminds him in a deadpan tone, pocketing her phone. She squints at the length of the dock leading to the Cameron estate, cracking a smile. “I’ll be back in ten.”

She walks off the Druthers and begins the trek down the dock. The music from the yacht grows more and more distant as she walks further down the dock, pulling out her phone and going to her texts.

To: Rafe

you back home yet?

Four steps later, his response comes in.

From: Rafe

Yeah, just got back in. You guys still on the Druthers?

To: Rafe

yeah but i’m coming into the house to get some drinks

From: Rafe

Thought you guys would be stacked up on alcohol

To: Rafe

alcohol, yes. but we need water and sodas too lol

She pockets her phone, getting off the dock and approaching the back glass doors of the house and walking inside. Isla hears someone moving around in the kitchen and when she walks in, she grins at the sight of Rafe. He’s in the process of making a protein shake, it looks like, dressed in gray pants with a light blue button down tucked in, sleeves rolled to the elbows. 

Isla bites her smiling bottom lip, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall on her side as she watches him. She knows he’s just coming back from some meetings that he sits in on with his dad, already having a place in Ward’s company for him to one day take over. Rafe’s watch shines on his wrist and her smile widens when she sees one of the beaded bracelets on his other wrist, the beads dark in color.

“Hi there,” she greets, catching his attention right when he puts the lid on the blender.

Rafe looks up, gaze finding hers and a smile instantly finding his face. It makes her heart flutter, how quickly the smile appears when he looks at her. It lights up his entire handsome face, his feelings so evident, and a comforting fire spreads through Isla—to know she’s the reason for that smile.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says, blue eyes dipping down the length of her, her skin electrifying with delicious awareness everywhere his gaze touches. He rolls his bottom lip into his mouth as she walks over, and Rafe nods towards the box of Coca-Cola and some water bottles sitting on the counter. “Got your drinks out for you.”

“Why, thank you.” The corners of her lips dip downwards in a teasing grin, cheek turning into the shoulder she lifts. “You—” Her hand reaches forward to hook a finger through his belt loop, closing the gap between them while tilting her head back to smile at him as he looks down at her, eyebrows raised. “Look ridiculously handsome.”

It’s unfair how nicely the button down stretches across his broad chest and shoulders, strong forearms shown off with how the sleeves are rolled up. “Oh, yeah?” Rafe murmurs, his one hand leaning against the counter while the other slides up her long dark hair, threading through the strands before his hand cups the back of her head. He applies just the slightest bit of pressure to pull her head back while dipping his head, Isla’s eyes fluttering shut when his lips press to her smiling ones.

She hums into the kiss, chest against his torso and lips parting against his. “Mm, I can’t stay for long,” she murmurs, laughing breathlessly as Rafe trails kisses along her jaw, down her neck. Her head tilts back, eyelashes fluttering in response to his lips working along her neck, a breath shuddering out of her. “Rafe, your parents—”

“Dad and Rose are at work,” he tells her. Isla’s thighs clench when his teeth graze against her skin.

“Okay, but don’t—” Isla laughs when he teasingly, lightly, nips at her and her hands press to his chest. “Do not leave any marks.”

Rafe groans. “Boring,” he says, but when he pulls back he’s grinning. His hands shift so he’s cupping her cheeks, thumbs lightly digging into the dents of her dimples when she grins up at him. “Your cheeks are flushed,” he comments with a chuckle.

Isla hums. “Hot day. Are you going back to work?”

Rafe nods. “Yeah, got an hour and a half to kill though,” he tells her with a meaningful raise of his eyebrows.

“Oh-ho, don’t look at me,” Isla laughs, shaking her head. “I gotta get back to the others.”

But Rafe wraps his arms around her waist, hugging her to him with a burgeoning grin. “I’m sure you have some time to kill,” he muses, and Isla yelps in surprise, hands gripping Rafe’s shoulders, as he lifts her and sits her on the counter, the cool marble chilling the bare skin of her thighs. He kisses her again, hands sliding down her sides, teasing the band of her shorts. “We can be quick,” he says, each word emphasized by a kiss as his fingers brush over the button and zipper of her shorts, but he doesn’t go any further. “Hmm?”

He pulls back to look at her questioningly, but Isla chases his kisses, making him grin knowingly, and she groans because of course she can’t say no to him. “We really will have to be quick,” she says breathlessly, heart thumping at the thrill of anticipation.

Rafe’s smirk is wicked and eager, fingers working to undo her short’s button and zipper. And it’s risky—oh, it’s so risky, but cautious is thrown out the window the second Rafe tugs her shorts off, taking them off all the way and dropping them to the floor. Isla kisses him again, eager to feel the softness of his lips and taste him, as she feels his fingers work at the bows on one side at her hip of her bikini bottom, undoing it to pull it off.

His kisses trail down her jaw, her neck, and Isla’s head tilts back as his lips travel down her sternum, her stomach as he pulls her closer to the edge of the counter before he drops down. Isla’s heart is thunderously in her chest, lips parted as she watches Rafe part her legs further, an eager gleam in his eyes that meet hers as his tongue licks a stripe up her center.

“Oh—God,” Isla shudders, one hand finding the back of his head and the other gripping the edge of the counter, watching and feeling as he licks at her. Electricity shoots through her veins, watching her boyfriend who is dressed up the way he is, as he eats her like she’s his last damn meal, holding back nothing.

Isla’s breaths come out sharply, a moan escaping when Rafe’s teeth graze her clit, the moan becoming a cry when he sucks her clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs before his tongue does something—alternating from fluttering and fucking her, making Isla throw her head back as stars begin to dot her closed lids. Her fingers tighten in his hair, no doubt messing it up, but neither of them seem to care as her hips start moving at their own accord, her breaths coming out like whimpers as she looks down at Rafe, watching him lick and kiss and suck at her.

He looks like he’s in fucking heaven, which only makes her skin fire up more, desire and exhilaration and the slight alarm of potentially getting caught mix together to make her head spin even more. Over the thundering of her heart, Isla can hear the crude sounds of him eating her out, sucking at her lips and tongue licking into her. Rafe knows exactly what to do, showing just as much attention to her clit, and it’s enough for Isla to feel that familiar tensing, electrifying sensation low in her abdomen.

“Oh, God, Rafe—I can’t—I’m gonna—Please.”

Rafe hums against her, giving her clit a slow, wicked suck, and Isla is falling apart with a sharp cry of his name. White flashes across her closed eyes as her climax wracks through her, shaking as Rafe lets her ride through it on his tongue, taking in whatever she can give him.

She’s seconds away from collapsing on her back on the counter—oh, she can’t believe they just did that on the Camerons’ kitchen counter—but Rafe’s arm is around her waist, holding her up as he rises to his feet. When Isla looks at him, trying to catch her breath, a smirk dances on his lips, sinfully shining, as his hand presses to the small of her back, his skin hot against hers.

“Look at that,” Rafe muses cockily as Isla’s slightly widened eyes meet his. “Knew you’d be a good girl.”

Isla exhales sharply, her racing heart only just beginning to settle. “You’re crazy,” she remarks. “And a menace.”

He grins shamelessly. “You like it, though.”

She shakes her head, but smiles nonetheless with heat in her cheeks as Rafe gets some paper towels and helps her clean up. When he helps her off the counter, Isla’s knees shake only a little bit, but she’s able to stand as Rafe ties the strings of her bikini bottoms against her hip. “I can’t believe we just did that,” Isla whispers, hands on her warm cheeks as she watches Rafe tie a cute little bow before he bends to grab her shorts. “On your kitchen counter.”

“It’s no big deal, Isla,” he tells her with a light chuckle, holding her shorts up by the band for her to step into. 

“Your family cooks and eats here!” Isla hisses, one hand on his shoulder to keep her balance as she puts her right foot into the shorts and then the left. “I mean, that’s—”

“Baby, baby, stop worrying,” Rafe cuts in with a gentle laugh, buttoning and zipping her shorts before cupping her cheeks. Despite her mild freak out, she’s more than a little endeared that he practically dressed her after making her see stars. Chivalry isn’t dead, afterall. “I’ll clean up, if that helps.”

Isla’s eyes widen. “You better,” she says before reaching for the long box of Coke cans. “I gotta get back before they start asking questions.”

He nods to the water bottles. “Let me get you a bag for those.” He opens one of the lower cabinets and pulls out a plastic bag, putting the water bottles in there before handing her the bag. “You sure you don’t need help?”

Isla smiles, stepping over to him. “I’ll be fine, babe,” she says, rising on her toes to give him a quick kiss. “I’ll call you later?”

Rafe grins. “Looking forward to it.”

*****

The yard of the Chateau, with the view of the water, looks gorgeous.

Under Sarah’s leadership, the girls had transformed the outdoor space into a pretty, Pinterest-inspired dinner area. Isla and Kie had borrowed their dad’s pick up truck and used it to bring the bigger supplies, like folding tables and extra chairs. The sunset makes the sky bleed orange into red, reflecting off the water, and the fairy lights that are stretched along above them and tied around the trees and back porch pillars add a fantasy-like glow. 

The tables, just two and big enough to fit all seven of them, are covered with a rustic linen tablecloth that will probably get stained by the time dinner is over. There are two cute centerpieces of vases stocked with wildflowers that Isla had picked. The girls all each cooked multiple things—especially given there will be three teenage guys with them who can each eat two people’s worth of food. There’s lasagna, chicken pot pie, Cleo’s famous sandwiches, stuffed peppers, garlic bread. Not to mention the other bits of dessert to go with the birthday cake. Over the screened in porch, facing their set up, a custom made Happy Birthday John B! banner hung, along with balloons tied to the tops of their chairs.

“Okay, Pope just texted,” Cleo announces, her phone screen lighting up her face. “They’re ten minutes out!”

“Okay, okay,” Sarah rushes and Isla smiles in amusement because her friend almost resembles a headless chicken. But she looks pretty, unsurprisingly, in a pale yellow summer dress and sandals, hair in loose waves with the front braided back. “We’ve got everything, right?” she asks, her eyes critically looking over the table set up.

Kie nods, brushing away a fallen leaf from the table. “Good to go, dude,” she confirms, grinning excitedly.

They go inside the house and begin bringing the food out, which they made sure is warm and set it out on the table, though they don’t take off the lids or Seran wrap off the top of the dishes so flies or bugs don’t get into the food. Soda and beer bottles are also brought out and Isla bites back a smile as she watches Sarah needlessly—and nervously—straighten out the utensils placed by the plates.

“We’re good, right? This is good?” Sarah asks, looking around.

“Would you calm down?” Isla laughs, walking over and gripping Sarah’s shoulders from behind before hugging her. “John B’s gonna love it.”

Sarah’s nervousness is only a sign of how much she loves John B, and this is totally not the right time or circumstance to suddenly feel the dull ache of yearning deep in Isla’s chest as she thinks of Rafe. It’s accompanied by the sharp sting of jealousy that comes with witnessing her friends be so openly in love and together, while Isla feels as though she can’t share the beginning bloom of her new relationship with Rafe.

Maybe cowardice is holding her back. No matter when or how Isla tells her friends, she knows that their reactions are not going to be good. The guys and Rafe, with his friends, have gotten into plenty of fights and spats over the years, and Isla isn’t sure her friends are willing to move past that. Part of her worries that Rafe could spend the next few years being civil and, hell, even nice to them without their relationship being revealed, and it would still take a while for her friends not to hate him. Sarah would be the easiest to win over, Isla figures, because her relationship with Rafe has gotten better over the last couple of years.

But the Pogue versus Kook mentality that smothers their island is the root of the resentment between them. Perhaps it’s a bit delusional, but Isla hopes that if she can see Rafe has changed, that he’s a better person than the asshole who used to get into fights with JJ, John B, and Pope, then her friends can see it, too. They would just have to get past, well, the past. And that, she fears, isn’t going to be easy.

“What’s with all the lights?” Isla hears John B’s voice, and she pulls out of her thoughts quickly enough to join the others in exclaiming, “Surprise!”

She sees John B’s eyes widen, hands up in front of him as he says, “Oh, shit,” while a grin grows on his face as he looks at them all with shock lighting up his eyes. “What?” He laughs as JJ grabs his shoulders and gives him a shake, grinning, while Pope steals a page out of JJ’s books and gives John B a noogie.

“Happy birthday, John B,” Sarah smiles, walking over to him and throwing her arms around his neck. His arms instantly wind around her waist, and Kie whistles when the two of them share a kiss. When they pull back, Sarah’s smile widens. “Hope you’re ready to eat,” she says, fingers interlacing with his as she pulls him towards the tables.

She lets go of his hand long enough for the rest of them to step in, and Isla grins at her friend as she wraps her arms around him. “Happy birthday, buddy,” she murmurs, giving him a squeeze that he returns. “Feeling old yet?” she laughs as they pull away, patting his shoulder. 

John B’s grin is wide and smug. “Nineteen and never felt younger,” he chuckles, hooking his arm around her neck before they all make their way to the tables. John B lets out a laugh, rubbing his hands together as he says, “Guys, this looks amazing.” To JJ and Pope, he smirks. “No wonder you boys kept me out all day.”

JJ grins, tipping an imaginary hat to Sarah. “We were under strict orders,” he says with a wink as they all sit down.

John B sits at the head, Sarah to his right with Isla next to her and Kie on the other side of Isla. JJ sits to John B’s left, and Pope and Cleo are opposite of Isla and Kie. Among the dishes, there are two three-wick candles adding to the ambiance provided by the fairy lights. “Wow,” John B says again when he sits, smiling in awe as he observes the spread in front of him. “You guys went all out, huh?”

Pope shoots him a grin. “Anything for you, Grandpa,” he says, everyone’s laughter ringing when John B throws him a feigned glare at the knock at his age. Comes with the territory when he’s the oldest of their group.

“Let’s eat!” Sarah says, gesturing for everyone to begin helping themselves.

Their chatter fills the air, along with the clinking of utensils against plates as they serve themselves, piling up their plates with the home cooked dishes. Cleo, having hooked up her phone to the Bluetooth speaker sitting at the base of the tree nearby, plays music in the background, not too loud to overpower their conversation but enough to add to the atmosphere. Dishes are passed back and forth, drinks are poured, and smiles are ever present as the seven of them get lost in this small world they’ve built for themselves. 

The guys regale their adventures from today, which was really just an average day in OBX for them. Out on the boat, fishing, surfing, their usual activities that they never get tired of. It’s why John B didn’t suspect the surprise dinner because nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Isla knows that Sarah also has a romantic dinner planned with him tomorrow, but she wanted all of them to spend his actual birthday together, as a family.

And that’s exactly what they do, constant laughter ringing out in between eating and drinking and taking pictures for their memories. “Yo, we should do these more,” John B comments at one point, reaching for his glass. “Like, these family dinners,” he clarifies, gesturing to the table with the glass and a smile.

Cleo points a fork at him, arching an eyebrow. “You say that now because you and the boys did none of the cooking,” she points out.

Isla snaps her fingers, nodding. “Exactly.”

“Next time, y’all are cooking,” Kie says, raising her eyebrow at all three of the guys. 

“You trust us in the kitchen?” JJ grins at her, leaning back in his chair with an arm thrown over the back of Pope’s chair. Isla doesn’t miss the way JJ is looking at Kie, a dimple in his cheek and his blue eyes glinting with something far more than something that can be clocked under the guise of a platonic relationship. 

Isla rolls her smiling lips into her mouth, hiding it behind the rim of her glass as she sips the Coke. Her gaze flicks to her left, catching Sarah’s own knowing, smiling gaze. On the other side of Isla, Kie snorts out a laugh. “I’m sure you boys are capable,” she muses and oh, man, those two are definitely flirting, whether they realize it or not.

Now Isla is really wondering if something did happen between Kie and JJ, and her sister just hasn’t told her about it. 

When they finish eating dinner, they all take the time to take some pictures before Sarah heads inside. She’s only gone for a few minutes, but Isla sees John B’s gaze constantly going to the house, like he’s looking out for her. It makes Isla smile, even as her phone vibrates and she checks to see a text from Sarah.

From: Sarah👸🏼🩵

coming!!!!

Isla thumbs up the message and goes on her phone’s camera, getting to her feet and wiggling her eyebrows at John B’s questioning look right as the backdoor opens and Sarah walks out. “Happy birthday to you. . .” She starts singing with a laugh, and with Isla recording, the rest of them join in on the singing as Sarah walks towards John B, holding the cake with two candles, reading 19, are lit on top and make Sarah’s smiling face glow.

The group of them sing happy birthday to John B as he laughs, delight lighting up his face as Sarah puts the cake in front of him on the table, her smile wide as JJ hands him a knife to cut the cake. “Cut it, old man!” JJ says over the rest of their cheering.

Isla records John B blowing out the candles before he cuts the cake, Sarah standing next to him with her hands pressed together after clapping, pressed against her smiling lips as she watches John B cut the cake. He takes a slice, then, and offers it to Sarah, and Isla and Kie whistle as he feeds it to her. And Isla is so glad she has that video to play it at their inevitable wedding, where they recreate that very moment with their wedding cake. Isla can already, so easily, picture it as she posts one of the photos they took tonight on Instagram.

“Alright, alright, step aside,” Pope says once they’ve finished, taking the knife from John B. “I’ll cut.”

Cleo slides up next to him. “I’ll give it out,” she says, grabbing the pile of small plates.

They get to work, with Pope cutting slices and placing them on plates, which Cleo hands to the rest of them. When Isla notes that JJ is occupied with Sarah and John B, she quickly but casually makes her way to where Kie is cleaning up more of the table and bringing dishes inside. Isla grabs the lasagna dish and hurries after her sister into the house, and Kie glances at her over her shoulder.

“What’s up?” she asks as they enter the kitchen, as though she knows Isla is after something.

“Come on, be honest,” Isla starts, placing the dish on the counter. “Did something happen between you and JJ the other day?”

Kie presses her lips together as she places the pile of dirty plates in the sink. With her back to Isla, her shoulders seem tense, bracing her hands against the counter before she slowly turns to face Isla. Isla, on the other hand, is watching her with eyes slightly widened with anticipation, biting back the urge to yell I knew it! before Kie even has had the chance to say anything.

“We’re going on a date,” Kie slowly says, lips twitching as though she is struggling not to smile.

But Isla’s jaw has dropped, eyes even wider as she stares at her sister in disbelief. So many thoughts run through her head in response to Kie’s words, her pulse racing in excitement, but the first thing she blurts out is, “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“Shh! Keep your voice down,” Kie hisses, widening her eyes as she walks towards Isla. “We didn’t wanna say anything to anyone until, you know, after. We don’t wanna bring any attention to it because we kind of just wanna see for ourselves, you know, if anything is there.”

Isla scoffs, forehead creasing as she shoots Kie a really? look. “There’s something definitely there,” she states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world—because it is.

Kie rolls her eyes before letting out a breath, her shoulders sinking. Her expression shifts, then, and Isla recognizes the guilt that softens her dark eyes, the downwards tilt of her lips. “I know I should have told you. I’m sorry I didn’t.” Isla’s lips part, but Kie’s hands suddenly find Isla’s, cutting Isla off. “You’re my sister and, y’know, we tell each other all the shit. You’ve been trying to get me to open up to JJ about my feelings and I finally took your advice, and you’re the first person I should’ve told instead of keeping you in the dark.”

Isla can’t lie—the second Kie had told her about going on a date with JJ, Isla had felt a pang of hurt that Kie hadn’t said a word. That she had purposefully kept it a secret even when Isla questioned her about it earlier. Except. . . That’s hypocritical of her, isn’t it? Isla can’t truly, genuinely, be angry with Kie about this when she is keeping an even bigger secret about her own love life.

So whatever guilt Kie is feeling right now, Isla suddenly gets wracked with it tenfold, her throat drying and stomach bottoming out at the expression Kie wears. At this moment, Isla so badly wants to come clean. She wants to tell her sister about her own love life—her boyfriend. And yet, Isla doesn’t feel ready, and she doesn’t think Kie and their friends are ready to hear it, either. Never mind that it’s John B’s birthday and Isla doesn’t want to take the attention away from her friend and his day. 

That doesn’t stop her stomach from twisting, though, or feeling her skin prickle with guilt as Kie holds her hands. Kie’s secret with JJ is nothing in comparison to what Isla is hiding from everyone.

“Hey, no, stop,” Isla says with a shake of her head, forcing out a laugh through her bone dry throat. She squeezes Kie’s hands reassuringly. “I’m not upset, alright? I get it. You didn’t have to tell me anything until you were ready to.”

Kie blinks a few times, still looking worried. “Are you sure? Because, like, I know we don’t keep that many secrets from each other, if we even do, you know? I just—”

“Kiara,” Isla says, and the use of her full name has Kie pausing. Resisting the urge to swallow the guilt-laden lump in her throat, Isla smiles again. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m just glad you and JJ finally got your heads out of your asses,” she adds playfully, trying to lighten the burden on her chest. It only works a little when Kie laughs.

“Yeah, me too,” she smiles, nodding. To Isla’s surprise, Kie pulls her in for a hug, her arms tight. “Thanks for talking some sense into me about JJ.”

With her chin resting on Kie’s shoulder, Isla’s expression falls and her eyes squeeze shut, feeling like an absolute ass for the hypocrisy that tightens her stomach. Especially with Kie mentioning the lack of secrets between them, which has always been true—except this time. Isla tries reassuring herself that it’s for good reason, that Kie and everyone else aren’t ready to hear the truth that they don’t know even exists. 

Still, with her eyes squeezing shut, Isla pushes back the burning sensation. “Anytime,” she responds to Kie.

Thankfully, her sister doesn’t notice the way Isla’s voice has become hoarse with guilt in just that one word answer.

-----

taglist: @talkfastromance4 @you-got-me-starry-eyed @invisiblexcth @freshsturniolo346 @theafournier97 @danismyth04 @perfectprettypisces @pameluuu @melsbels-zip @gabrielapereze11 @katieeeeb @diary-of-jj @cenzie811148 @hangmanscoming

[luciferlightbringer]

Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 12

Hey! I'm so sorry that this chapter took a while! This week was a lot and smut takes a lot of energy for me to write because I care about the details and all. But now it is here! Also, I was gonna put a more cute/loving gif of Lucifer for for this one but then I saw this was and I couldn't stop laughing, so here we are. Enjoy~

Chapter 11|Chapter 12 (FINAL CHAPTER)

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 5.3 k CW: Slowburn, Angst, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, depression, anxiety, insecurity, kissing, SMUTTTT (penetration, oral, handjobs, sub/dom, sex toys)

By the end of the day, all your things had been moved over to the hotel. Lucifer had offered to put your things in his room, but you had asked for your own, both because you wanted to have your stuff separate for now... and part of you wanted a separate place to be if you after Lucifer ever had issues come up. You didn't anticipate it happening, but the anxiety that came with a new relationship, especially your first healthy one, left you needing some time to adjust. Lucifer, being the good man that he was, respected it, but not without a little pouting, but you reassured him that you would still be spending every night sleeping by his side.

By the end of the day, you were tired, and honestly, so was Lucifer. The physical and emotional toll of the day had caught up to the both of you and you went to bed early that night. Snuggling up in each other's arms.

The next morning, Lucifer woke up early, excited, with a plan for the day. Lucifer got up and got dressed for the day, gave you a swift kiss on the lips as you laid half awake in bed and whispered, "I have some things I need to do today, but see you later. Ok? You're booked out with me starting dinner time, got it?" You nodded sleepily. He kissed you again, deeper this time. "I love you, Duckie." And then he left to go pick up supplies for his plan with you later.

A little bit later, you finally woke up and laid in Lucifer's- Lucifer and YOUR's bed... that would take some while to get used to. You heard a faint sound of commotion down in the lobby. You decided to get up to see what all the commotion was about, throwing on a basic shirt and shorts. It had been forever since you had gotten to have a slow day and wear clothes that weren't required to make you look like a sex toy, the change was really nice.

You skip downstairs to come face to face with a couple of familiar faces... some of your friends from the brothel! Gemma, Natalie, and Katrina, had all come also wanting to move into the hotel and give redemption a try. They saw how Lucifer and the others had fought for you, and they wanted in on that kind of support, even if they were still going to work at the brothel. You hugs them all and cried happy tears.

"You, uhhh... wouldn't be willing to spare one more hug, would ya, Babydoll?" You turned around at the familiar voice to see Larry standing behind you.

"Larry!" you hugged him, "What are you doing here?"

"Well.." he said sheepishly, "Truthfully, I've been losing the heart to run that brothel over the last several decades... Although business is already up a lot since it got out the Lucifer used my place, haha! We will see what happens... I am still running it, but... I might not be trying to find any new girls is all. Learning about this hotel here... gave me something else to try out... if... you are ok with me being here... that is..."

You smiled at Larry and hugged him again, "Of course I am! Every sinner is welcome here! Just one thing though... my new boyfriend might not be too fond of you calling me Babydoll anymore."

Larry laughed, "Fair enough, wouldn't want to upset him, I already know what that looks like, yeeshh," he said playfully pulling at his collar, "How about just 'doll'?" You nodded with a laugh, "That should work". You helped Larry and the other girls move in most of the day. Luckily you were distracted enough that you did not see Lucifer pop in and out the the hotel several times with supplies.

Eventually it came dinner time and you went off to your own room, to shower and get dressed for the event with Lucifer that night. You walked into your room to find a beautiful black and red dress with matching shoes and a bag next to it with a note saying:

Got you a little something for our first official date, I hope you like it. Love, Luci <3

Your heart swelled, you had no idea how your life had ended up like this, but you were the happiest you had ever been. You sighed happily and went to take a quick shower, did your hair with simple makeup and put on the dress. It fit your dimensions perfectly, like scary perfectly, and had no tag.

Did he have this made for you? This was going to be a lottttt to get used to, you were dating a King. Oh my god, you were dating a King. No... you were dating Lucifer, he could have been a sinner just like anyone else and it wouldn't matter to you. He could fall to an even darker pit of Hell and you would follow him. This must have been how Lilith felt all those years ago. You finished getting ready and you heard a knock on your door at your usual time.

You went to go open the door and saw Lucifer standing in front of you, wearing a more simple suit that was still just as sexy as his normally outfit, but with more black and red details to match you. As you catch his view, he catches yours, and you both look at each other with jaws agape as you take in each other's beauty. Lucifer was so happy that the dress fit you, and in all. the. right. ways. He gave you a prideful smile.

"I'm glad I got the measurements correct," he said with a smirk.

"So it was custom made, how did you know my dimensions?" you smirked back at him.

Lucifer raked his eyes up and down your body, "I'm just... good with spacial awareness." He wiggled his eyebrows.

You chuckled and nodded with a cheeky smile, "Wow, I never thought such a nerdy sentence could sound so hot~" you purred.

Lucifer got a little flustered, "Oh shut up," he grabbed your hand and putted you into a deep kiss. You two stood in the kiss and embrace for a few minutes before Lucifer pulled away, breathing heavily.

"I don't want to get too ahead of myself, we have an itinerary to keep to" Lucifer says as he taps his cane on the floor. Before you can ask what he meant, he teleports the both of you to a secluded room with large windows that overlook the Pride Ring, music softly playing in the background, Swan Lake.

You looked at the view and smiled, "All this for me?" you ask.

"Oh this is just the beginning of our night, my love. And yes, you deserve this and much much more," he kissed both of your hands before taking you to your chair. You and Lucifer ate dinner together, spent hours listening to music, flirting, and eventually got up and started dancing together. This made Lucifer think about how things used to be with Lilith, but he could appreciate that it was different, it was with you.

He dips you and kisses you deeply, running his hands down your frame. His body had been aching for yours all day during the preparations for the night, but he knew he had to be patient just a little longer. We wanted so desperately to claim you, but also, to fill you with all the love and pleasure that he could muster. It was the least you deserved.

Lucifer pulls his head back to be able to look at you as you look up at him, his eyes full of love as he smiled down at you, "I love you my darling, and from this day on, I will make sure you never go a day in your life where you doubt that."

You felt tears well in your eyes, "I love you too, King of Hell, King of my heart. I will do everything in my power to be by your side and love you." You kiss him again as he ends the dip, standing you back upright.

"Are you ready for the rest of the evening?" He said with some flirty mischief in his eyes, wiggling his eyebrows again.

You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, "Oh I am."

Lucifer tapped his cane and you both teleported back to the hotel, in front of your door. "I have one more outfit for you tonight, get changed and come to our room in ten minutes," he asked trying to hide the excitement in his eyes at his plans for you. You nodded.

Lucifer kisses you again, deeper than all of the others, barely able to keep himself from taking you right there in the hallway. He parts and walks back to the room he called both of yours. You smiled and watched him walk away before going into your room. On the bed was another new outfit, who had put that there while you were gone? It was Angel, Angel wanted to help

On your bed, was a simple but elegant robe, the type of robe you would find at a spa or something, and nothing else. What was he up to? Before putting on the robe you also put on a set of lingerie that you had gotten a while ago, just for him to see if he had ever wanted to have sex with you back when he was still paying for your time, but now he got to see it for free, and that made you even happier.

You slipped on the robe, and after ten minutes, you walked down to your shared room with Lucifer and knocked on the door. Lucifer called for you to come in, and you opened the door to the room filled with lit candles, rose petals on the floor, a table over on the side that had stuff on it covered in a cloth, and Lucifer standing near the side of the bed, also wearing a robe that matched yours, this hat and cane off to the side. All you were able to see was his chest exposed down to the V in the robe and his black arms up to his elbows and his black legs to to the knee where they started to transition to white.

You laughed as you walked into the room towards Lucifer, "What is all this?"

Lucifer looked you over, Hells he wanted to rip that robe off of you, "Well... I wanted this all to be special. I know I could just toss you on the bed and probably have my way with you but... I want this to feel different... I don't this to feel like just another job... I want it to feel like love."

His words left a pang in your heart, you got close and cupped his face "You don't have to do all of this for me to feel like that, everything about you makes this feel like love... frankly... I struggled most of the time to see you as just a client... after a while I hated that you were because I wanted for it all to be real."

"Just for both of us to find out it was real the whole time," he said as he nuzzled into your hand, "I love you, and I'm going to spend the reset of the night and every day after showing you just how much I do." Lucifer then pulled you into a deep kiss. Both of you start to explore each other's bodies with your hands a little before Lucifer stops you again.

"Hells, you make it so hard to stop, but I have a plan here," he clears his throat, he is already shaking a little out of excitement and nerves, "You have spent a lot time using your body for others and I want to make you feel good, so I was going to give to a message. Does that sound ok?"

You melted, hell he was sweet and really hot, how could he possibly get more hot? "That sounds amazing actually..."

Lucifer's eyes lit up, "Great! And then uhh... whenever we move on to other activities... I may have uhh... gone with Asmodeus to get like... a bunch of new toys! Hahah... we don't have to use them now, if you don't want to. I just wanted us to have options..." he said pointing over at the covered table on the side.

You looked over at the table and then back at him with lust and mischief filled eyes, tucking a hair behind his ear, "We should probably get the massage started before I start perusing those toys," you purred.

Lucifer's face turn red and his loins stir, he gulps hard as he walked you over to the bed. As you laid down, you looked at Lucifer as you slowly shrugged off your robe and tossed it to the side, leaving you in only your lingerie as you laid down on the bed with your back and ass to the sky. Lucifer raked his eyes across your body and gulped hard again, this is the first time he had seen you this exposed since the night you met, and the memories alone did not do you justice.

He jumped up on the bed beside you, swiping your hair away from your back and covering his hands in massage oil before starting to rub into your back, and beginning his goal of feeling every inch of your body with his hands. He started to work his way down your shoulders, neck, lower back, and it felt amazing for him to touch and for you to experience.

As he moved his hands around your curves, he looked for points of tension and pain, and used a little magic to help in aiding his hands in relaxing you and making your body feel good. His touch feels incredible to you, even without the magic, and you can't help but moan and sigh as he worked your muscles. The attention he gave your back alone was already enough to get you turned on, even though you already had been pretty turned of from all the kisses, but you felt yourself starting to get more wet.

Lucifer held back a moan as he hear you start to sigh at the pleasure of his hands on you. He loved that he was making you feel good, making you feel pleasure. He wanted to worship you, your body. Your body was the alter to the entity that he now wanted to worship for the rest of his life. He felt himself already start to get drunk off the feeling of your soft skin, your beautiful muscles and curves. His hands started to explore more down an arm, down to your hand, working at your palm and trailing kisses down from your shoulder to your wrist before moving to the other arm and repeating the process there before doing the same down each leg.

You continue to moan and sigh as he moved across your body. The massage felt so good but your pussy continued to ache for him, every time he got close to your entrance, you started to shake and moan more. This was not lost on Lucifer, he loved seeing you quiver beneath him, and he wanted to badly to just dive into you... but not quite... he needed to torture you a little more.

He quickly snapped the back of your lingerie top and before you had time to talk, he quickly flipped you over and got on top of you. He straddled you as he slowly undid the tie on the front of his robe and slipped it off of him, leaving him completely exposed above you. You were now able to see the entirely of his well sculpted body, chest, back, hips... and his cock that was already hard and erect for you. Hells it looked incredible, you just wanted it in... so many places... He gave you a long and passionate kiss, with some exchanging of saliva between your mouths, tongues exploring each other before he starts to work to massage to front of your body.

The touch on your front was much more sensual thought than it had been on your body. Lucifer slowly kissed down your neck, your collarbone, your chest, down to you breasts. Lucifer removed the lingerie top the rest of the way before massaging around your breasts, playing with your nipples, kissing and nipping around one, before putting his mouth on it and sucking on it. The nerves in your nipples felt like they were on fire and that each flick of his tongue made your loins start to throb as you groaned. You started to weave you finger though his blonde hair tugged at it a little. He took his time before moving over at repeating the process on your other nipple.

You felt like you were going crazy with lust at this point, you had never been so desperate for someone to enter inside of you. You opened your legs a little, hoping for him to take the hint to just dive in... to devour you.

Lucifer chuckled to himself as he felt your legs shift open, he decided it was time to start ending your torment. As he finished his attention on your second breast, he traced a hand down your stomach and down to your mound, moving the fabric of your thong out of the way before starting to tease your entrance.

You start to pant and groan louder, "Luci, baby please... Please touch me... put your fingers in me... I can't take it... Mmmm.... pleas-uhhH!!!!" You moan louder as he cuts you off mid-plea by sliding a finger into you, and starting to pump it in and out. He was now able to feel just how wet you were.

"Mmm, all of this wetness for me? With how much fucking you do, I wouldn't think you would be such a dripping mess for me, I'm so honored," he purred as he stared up at you from your chest, mischievous lust dancing across him face, burning in his eyes. Slowly, Lucifer added a second and then a third finger into your dripping hole as he continued to finger you and he continued to kiss and nip his way down your stomach and down your thighs. curling his fingers up into your G-spot making you cry out with pleasure.

As soon as his mouth reached your thighs, he removed his fingers, getting better access to bite and kiss his way up your thighs towards your dripping mound, he was pussy drunk just looking at your gorgeous entrance. He looked up into your eyes as be positioned his mouth just above your folds.

"Oh my love, every inch of you is the most exquisite and radiant treasure... are you ready for my tongue to ruin you?" Lucifer growled.

"Yes... Luci, yes please... ruin me... eat me..." you whispered.

Lucifer gave you a wicked smile, "Good... because I've been starving since the day I met you, and it's time for me to eat my fill." Lucifer then enclosed his mouth around your folds and starts to swipe his tongue up and down your entrance before plunging his tongue deep into you.

You let out a scream of pleasure as his tongue assaults your entrance, it was incredible and he had barely started. Every touch from him set your body on fire. You grabbed onto Lucifer's golden locks as he lapped at you with a vicious hunger, as if he had not eaten in eons and your juices were his only source of food. Your screams of pleasure made him rock hard and he started to grind his own crotch against the bed to alleviate some of the need.

Seeing this, you make the decision that you wanted to take a more active role in the pleasure. You figure out how to flip Lucifer on his back, which caught him my surprise, and then you crawled up onto him so that you were hoovering your pussy over his face and were able to get access to his dick.

Lucifer grinned wildly at the sight of your mound hoovering above him, and grabbed both of your thighs to encourage you down until his mouth locked onto your folds again and his tongue was about to gain access to the inside of you again.

At the same time, you reached down and grabbed his dick, which caused Lucifer to moan deeply beneath you. As you started to stroke him more, Lucifer moaned more, and started to thrust his hips up into your hand. You guys try to match each other's pace with each other's pace of licking and pumping.

Lucifer pulled out his favorite trick, which was elongating his tongue inside of you and snaking it around until he heard you sharply inhale, indicating that he had once again found the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you. He locked in on that spot and gave it as much attention as he could muster, even though he was finding it a little harder to focus due to the incredible feeling of your gorgeous soft hands on his throbbing shaft.

You and Lucifer continued like this for a while, an symphony of moans and sighs building between the two of you until you couldn't take it anymore, you needed him inside of you.

"Luci... uhhh... baby I need you... Oh hells... I need to feel you inside of me.." You sighed. Without another thought, Lucifer moved his hands up to your stomach and pushed you back onto the bed. He flipped around and crawled up to you, giving you a deep and hungry kiss as he spread your legs apart, finally ripping off your thong completely and discarding to the side so that it would not be in the way anymore. You loved getting lost in the taste of your juices on his tongue.

He broke off for a moment, panting, readying himself, teasing his cock at your entrance. He looked up into your eyes, a fire raging of lust and love as he growled.

"I've wanted this since the moment I saw that gorgeous sinful body of yours, since the day that the divine powers made it so that you were the one that ended up at may door, above anyone else. And now here we are, you naked in my bed, begging to feel the blessings of my cock inside of you? Oh well then I will RUIN you like this every day for the rest of your life, you hear me? This is your eternal punishment now, in my bed, slobbering, drunk off of my cock. Now tell me, darling, tell me what it is you truly desire?!"

You cried out, "I want you to fuck me Lucifer Morningstar!"

And at that, Lucifer started to slide into your entrance. You both moan loudly as you make connection with each other. Lucifer could on contain himself as his wings started to unfold from his back as he railed you. He looked down to see your head thrown back and your eyes rolling, and again he could not contain himself as his demon form emerged. Horns sprouted from his temples, eyes red, claws sharp, and a sharp black tail twisted out from behind him and wrapped its way around one of your thighs.

You looked up to see the new view of his, his angelic an demonic combination of features were so beautiful and terrifying in the sexiest way possible. His hands glided and squeezed along your body, kissing your legs as he held them up. You felt yourself starting to unravel.

"Luci-, oohhh... baby... it's soooo goodd.... I... I'm gonnnaa..." you tried so hard to hold yourself together a little longer.

Lucifer looked down at you with red eyes and growled with a smirk, "Cum for me, baby... let me finally claim that pleasure of yours... I'm so close..."

At his encouragement and growl, you threw your head back and moaned loudly as you felt yourself completely unravel, cumming and contracting around his beautiful cock. As you scream and your walls tightened around Lucifer, he felt himself also come undone as he felt waves of pleasure take him over at he hit his climax, emptying himself into you.

Lucifer then collapsed and rolled over to you side to breathe, "That... was... amazing..." he gasped.

"Ya... it was... fuck..." you weren't ready to had your hands off of him. You pulled him close and started kissing and making out with him again. He rolled back into your embrace to kiss your lips. After a few minutes, hands started to trail around each other's bodies again and you both started to let kisses roam as your bodies grinded against each other. You guys were both ready for another round.

You took Lucifer's shaft back into your hand and you started to pump un and down on it, and it did not take long before it was rock hard again in your hands. You then flipped onto you hands and knees at you continued to stroke his cock, still glistening and wet from your juices. A bead of pre-cum started to form at the tip, which you swiped off with your tongue, causing Lucifer to let out a pitiful moan and grab onto your hair.

"Oh baby... please.." he begged. All of the dominance and power he had earlier was gone, leaving the submissive desperate man you remembered meeting the first night. This reminded you of your plan from that night, you eyes glittered with mischief.

You slid your mouth around the head of his mouth, swirling around the tip before taking as much for his dick into your mouth. Lucifer was already losing it at the tip, but when you dove deeper around him he let out a long pitiful moan.

"Fuccckkkkkkk babyyyyy... ahhhh!!!!" he cried. You continued to pump your mouth up and down his mouth, some times removing your mouth completely to lick up the side from base to tip, and taking his balls into your mouth before returned back to filling your mouth with his cock. After several minutes of this, you stopped and slipped you way off of the bed.

Lucifer looked at you confused and in a happy daze as you walked over the the covered table and removed the cloth. The table was filled with more toys than you had ever seen in your life. The options were limitless, but you were looking for one thing in particular. You scanned the table until you found that you were looking for.

You grabbed a strap on and held it up, and gave a sly smile over to your prey that was still a slobbering mess over on the bed. Lucifer's eyes lit up and he gave you a dazed nod. You then took the strap on and started to secure it to you before strutting back to the bed, letting the shaft sway from side to side.

Lucifer slipped off the bed and got in his knees in front of you, taking the plastic phallus in his mouth to kiss and suck on it as well as the surrounding skin of your hips. You enjoyed the view of Lucifer on his knees in front of you for a minute, before you reach down his hand to tip his face up and make him you up at you.

You smirked at his submissive gaze up at you, "Up. On the bed," you commanded.

Lucifer nodded and scrambled onto the bed on all fours, his back arched and and up and ready for you. You grabbed a small tube from the table before slowly making your way back to the edge of the bed, putting a dollop of lube on your fingers before starting to massage his entrance. He gawked and moaned in response, especially he you started to work a finger in, and then two. It had been forever since Lucifer had been pegged, and hell did he miss it. He loved being at someone else's command, not needing to think for a minute. It was pure bliss.

You then started to spread some lube around the plastic of the strap on tip and shaft, making sure there was enough as not to hurt him. You positioned yourself to tease his entrance while you reached forward and grabbed around his throat, pulling him back, and you whispered in his ear.

"Now... are you ready for me to take you back to Heaven, darling?" you growled in his ear.

"Y-yes... yes mommy," he whimpered before you let go of the grip on his neck and slowly eased yourself into him. Lucifer let out a long moan as you slid into him. He dropped back down to all fours, and as you started pumping, he matched your pace in response. He felt so full and high on the feeling of you inside of him. As he got used to it, you started to pump faster and faster, his moans getting louder and louder. You waved your fingers through his hair, griping it and pulling his head back as you railed him, the grip of his hair making him moan and cry even louder, tears of pleasure running down his cheeks. Lucifer reached down and started to stroke himself as you pounded him. You took his other arm and held it behind him, forcing his face with squish into the bedding, muffling his cries.

After a while, Lucifer couldn't take it anymore, "Baby...oh hells... I need... mmmm... I need to fuck you... I beg of you." It made you so wet to see him like this, to have this power over him and to be pleasuring him in this way.

You cocked your head to the side and stopped you momentum while inside of him, and you pull him back up so you could whisper in his ear, "What is the magic word, Luci?" you purred.

"Mmmm... ahhh... p-please?" she whined. You obliged, removing yourself and replacing him on the bed on all four. Lucifer made quick of work of getting you in the same position you had just had him in, but with both hands behind your back as he quickly entered you and began pounding you again, screaming and moaning. You were sure the whole hotel could hear you, but you guys didn't care. It didn't take long until you both were reaching climax again and came at the same time before falling on the bed again in an exhausted heap.

Once he caught his breath, Lucifer pulled you in close, to cuddle against your naked body. Your bodies felt like magic against each other. He wanted to do nothing else other than hold you the rest of the night, you guys had the rest of time to try out the rest of the toys. He found your hand and laced his fingers in with your as he looked in your eyes. All you saw in each other's eyes was love and joy.

"y/n, I love you so much. Now and forever."

"I love you too, Lucifer."

You pulled Lucifer into another passionate kiss.

As you drifted off you sleep in Lucifer's arms, you whispered "I'm so happy we found each other, found love... in a hopeless place."

THE END

(unless?)

______________________________________________________________

Thank you all so much for the love I have gotten for this story! This is beyond anything I ever thought I would see from this and I am so happy. Some people are interested in a 2-5 years later chapter, would anyone be interested in that? This would be a chapter 13 that I would probably be posted in a few weeks. Let me know in the comments. Also! I will be starting my next Luci x Reader story in a few days, "Talk to Me", which will focus on a Fallen Angel Reader. Let me know if you want tagged in Chapter 1 of that! xoxo, dany ❤️

Taglist:

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[dulcecherub]

Igual Que Un Angel

Chapter Twelve

Synopsis: Sofia is pregnant, and the last thing she needs is for Rafe to find out. It’s her dirty secret, it’s not like he’s barging down her door to speak to her. He looks as if he’s done with her for good. Will outside forces, force Sofia to confront the situation at hand. Or will she be able to keep this secret up? Not like, her belly isn’t growing everyday or anything.

Author’s note: once again viewer discretion is advised. This may not be as heavy as I had thought. But just in case.

MASTERLIST

Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

“Shit!” Rafe was trying to beat the traffic but it seemed like everyone was out today. It shouldn’t have taken this long for him to get to the hospital. He honked his horn once more. His anger palpable in his bmw.

He swerves out of another car’s way, the other car honking his horn at Rafe. As he honks it back.

“She’s giving birth right now!? She was just about to be eight months pregnant!” Sarah panics, her eyes looking around the cars surrounding them.

“I know! I know!” Sarah held his phone, the phone ringing, Rafe hit the gas, going above the speed limit.

“Hello?” Lupita voices cuts through the screen, her call being put on speaker. “Rafe?” She sounds like a scared little girl. Rafe feels dread filling him like a balloon. He couldn’t think the worst yet though, he had to believe everything was okay.

“Hey! It’s uh it’s not Rafe. I mean it is he’s—”

“Sarah…”

“Right, sorry, it’s his sister Sarah. He’s driving so he can’t be on the phone. Is everything okay?”

Lupita’s sobs fill through the phone and into the car, making his stomach drop. Suddenly, the car felt stiffer, less spacious. No, please no.

He wouldn’t know what he’d do if he lost either Sofia or the baby. His mind going into a dark place, as it imagines him losing them both. He couldn’t live if that came to pass. He wouldn’t know what he’ll do. It’ll be like his dad dying all over again. Like his mom.

“I-I don’t know. They had to kick me out because I fainted.” It would had been something they all would have laughed at, had it not been such a dyer situation.

“You fainted?”

“Blood isn’t easy for me to see and there was so—”

Rafe hand tightens around the steering wheel. He feels like he’s almost floating out of his body. His eyes darting briefly to see Sarah is speaking. But it’s like he’s watching from the back seat. Not the one driving. Not the one experiencing this.

“We’re trying to beat traffic as best as we can. We’ll be there soon, okay. Hold on tight.” Lupita replies but Rafe can’t seem to hear it. It’s almost like he’s floating out of his body, he manages to finally make it to the hospital. And he doesn’t remember how.

“Push Sofia! Push!” The doctor yells, Sofia pushes with all her might. Her forehead sheened with sweat. This wasn’t how this was meant to go. This wasn’t how they’d planned this.

“Ahhh!” She cried out, her legs shook as she continued to push. She gritted her teeth as she continued to scream. Her eyes clenched shut, she just wanted Rafe. Needed him here more than anything in the world.

She feels herself thrashing against the sheets, unable to hold onto anything. Pain surrounds her like overgrowth, something inescapable. It feels like she’s being torn inside out. Being reshaped. No words can escape her lips, almost like she’s trapped.

Was this the universe laughing in their face? Almost taunting them, punishing her. Reminding them, no matter how much they tried, they could never get their relationship right. Sofia felt a white hot pain shoot up her back, she screamed once more. She couldn’t bear it, her vision blurring.

“One more push!” The doctor says, the sound of cries fills the hospital room. Sofia eyes finally unclenching, her breathing a little shaky. She continues to hear the cries of her baby, her eyes filling with tears. Her baby, her and Rafe’s baby. Their baby.

“Congratulations, Sofia. She’s here.” But they don’t place her baby into her arms. Sofia feels her heart sink, something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.

“Wait, wait I want to—”

Darkness begins to form at the edges of her vision. The last thing she hears is the nurses and doctors fuzzing over her before everything becomes dark. The last thing she thinks about is her baby, and Rafe.

“Lupita!” Rafe says, once he spots her. Her eyes dart to him, her mouth letting go of her thumb. Her lower lip quivering, her cheeks tear stained. But she looks relieved, almost.

“I’m such a coward. She needed me and I-I’m a coward.”

Sarah shakes her head, her arm linked with Rafe. Almost if she knew he needed someone to anchor him. His heart is racing, he’s not ready for what Lupita has to say. His eyes dart around the room, spotting people who are sick or injured. His stomach turning into knots.

“You’re queasy, it’s okay. It happens, that’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself for that.”Sarah says, her hand on Lupita’s arm. Lupita smiles but it’s quick, her forehead crinkled with worry.

“What happened Lupita?” Rafe asks, almost desperately.

“Hi, are you the family member of Sofia Jimenez? Her cousin right?” A nurse says, interrupting Lupita before she can speak. Lupita nods rapidly, her eyes widening. Sarah instinctively holds her hand in hers. He doesn’t miss the way Lupita looks at Sarah

“The baby is in the NICU.” She starts, “we’re just trying to monitor her heart, her oxygen, her temperature. Make sure her vitals are okay. Everything is looking good, there doesn’t seem to be a major issue.” Lupita nods, Rafe brows furrow.

“What about Sofia?” He asks, the nurse turns to him.

“Uh family of hers?”

“Yes. Father of the baby.”

The nurse purses her lips before nodding. “Come with me.”

Rafe heart continues to beat fast, he’s in the scrubs the nurse had given him. He looks over at Sarah who gives him a reassuring smile. It’s the only thing that anchors him before deciding to walk into the room. His eyes see all the other babies in their incubators. He’s the only one allowed in. Sarah and Lupita wait by the window.

Rafe slowly approaches, his steps cautious. He notices her, her wavy hair behind her, her eyes staring at their baby.

“Sofia.” Rafe says hoarsely, as if he’s using his voice for the very first time. She turns, her eyes glassy.

“She’s okay—I thought—she’s okay…” Her lower lip wobbles and Rafe immediately wraps her into a hug, their scrubs rustling against each others. His tears slipping into her hair, as he holds her even closer.

“You’re both okay, you’re—I’m sorry I wasn’t there Sof.” He voice cracks, his hand smoothly down her hair.

“It’s not your fault.” She whispers. “She was ready to see us, I guess.” She chuckles softly. Rafe kisses her head, a few times. Before loosing his hold on her.

“Yeah, but had I just—”

“Look, you’ve made your mistakes in the past. This isn’t one of them. We didn’t know she decided today was the day she wanted to be born. This isn’t your fault, okay.”

They both turn to peer at Aurora.

“She’s so small…”Sofia wipes at her nose, “They’re just going to keep her here for a few days. Just to make sure everything is okay. But uh—” Sofia approaches Aurora’s incubator. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Rafe neared the incubator, his eyes stared at their baby. The way her body was so small, too small. Her feet, her hands. But still, she was the most beautiful little baby he’d ever seen. And he was never one keen to babies. Rafe looked towards Sofia.

“She gets that from you.” Sofia cheeks flush and Rafe can’t help but smile. “She gets that from her mommy.”

Their eyes turn towards Aurora. Tiny little Aurora who was ready to see the world. To see them. His eyes land on the paper tucked near her incubator. Her name, and her weight on the chart. 4 pounds.

“How did the hearing go?” Sofia says, her eyes landing on his once more.

“We uh got joint custody.” Rafe says, his hand reaching in the incubator to touch Aurora. The nurse had provided him with gloves, but he needed to know she was real. Her little hand going into his, the way she curled them up.

“That’s amazing Rafe.” Rafe eyes meet hers again, he can’t help but go from looking at Aurora to looking at Sofia.

“Yeah, I finally got my little sister back.” His eyes bore into hers. “And now I have you too…”

Sofia reaches her hand in as while, her hand covering his. “You’ll always have us too.”

They kiss, a soft peck on the lips. A smile spreads on Rafe’s face.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“We want to monitor you as well for the night.” The nurse says, as Sofia is placed back onto the bed.

“She’ll be discharged in the morning?” Rafe asks, trying to leave his desperation out of his voice. Sofia seemed to pick up on it, as she beamed at him.

“Yes, that’s what we’re aiming for. If any other complications present themselves. It might be later than that. But I don’t think we have to worry about that. Everything seems normal.” The nurse says, helping Sofia adjust herself.

“I’ll give you two some more privacy.” The nurse excuses herself.

“Are Lupita and Sarah coming in?” Sofia asks, staring up at Rafe from the bed.

“Sarah went to help Lupita calm down.” Rafe grabs for her hand, holding it against his heart. “You scared us, you know.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I-”

Rafe shook his head, squeezing her hand.

“It’s not your fault, she was ready to come out.”

“Rafe…” Sofia words become quiet, almost like she’s afraid about what she’s about to say.

“Yeah?”

“What if, something’s wrong with her? And they’re not telling us everything so we don’t freak out.” Sofia forehead crinkles with worry, Rafe rubs his thumb against her forehead, almost trying to smooth down the lines.

“If there was an issue, they would have told us by now.” Rafe pushes her hair out of her face, her brows crinkle.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s his turn for his eyebrows to crinkle.

“For what?”

“I know this isn’t how you wanted this to go.” Sofia eyes him cautiously, almost afraid that he’s mad at her. “I’m sorry I messed it up.”

“So it’s not my fault for not being here. But it’s yours for her coming out to early. Sofia, you don’t need to be so har—”

“I keep messing everything up for you. First the Hollis and Groff situation. Now this—”

“Sofia they’re not even remotely the same.” Rafe brows furrowed, he looks visibly confused.

“I just feel like I’m ruining—”

“Sofia, stop. Okay stop. That’s not what happened.”

Tears began to well up in her eyes. “What if we lose her and it’s—”

“Sofia stop!”

Sofia looks at him in shock, she looks around but knows no one heard him. They were in a private hospital room.

“I didn’t mean to yell.” He whispers, moving away from her. His back towards her. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a moment of silence, Sofia watching as he stands near the window. His body tense, he doesn’t speak.

“No it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine Sofia.” Rafe squeezed his eyes closed, his body positioned towards the window. “Look, our relationship has never been perfect. But you don’t get to start blaming yourself for everything now.”

Sofia eyes stay on his fighter, unsure what to say. She hadn’t meant to upset him. She just meant to share her fears with him. “Rafe—”

“All of that shit, it’s in the past Sofia. We just had a baby. Together. You and me. That’s what’s important. Okay. Our love for each other and our baby.”

“You can’t expect me to think you’ve forgiven me that fast.” Sofia brows knit together, her lips parting almost wanting to say more. Before ultimately deciding against it.

“You don’t get it Sofia, do you?” Rafe finally turns his head towards her. His eyes had softened. “Yeah, at first I was extremely angry. But now—”

“Now?”

“Now… all I want is you and Aurora. That’s all that matters to me. Sarah, little Jay and John B too. But don’t tell him that.” Sofia laughs. Rafe moves towards her once again. His hand gripping hers like a life line.

“You’re all I ever wanted and more.” He kisses her forehead.

“Hey sorry to interrupt. We wanted to check in with you guys. See that everything was okay.” Sarah says, Lupita looks at her cousin. Her face crumpling as she races towards her.

“Perdóname!” She says, her head on Sofias stomach. “I’m such a coward. I didn’t mean to leave you alone in that room.”

Sofia ran her hand in her cousin’s hair. “Lupita, Estoy bien, no te preocupes. Estoy aquí.” She kisses her cousins head.

Rafe and Sarah move to stand next to each other.

“But-but I just had to faint. I failed you.”

“Lupe, you could never fail me.” Lupita finally looks up from her cousins stomach.

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Lupe, I practically raised you. I know your heart and soul. I know you would have been there. You didn’t fail me.”

Lupita eyebrows scrunched up. “Te amo.”

“Te amo mas.”

Sofia raises her head to look toward Sarah and Rafe. As they privately have their own conversation. She can’t help the way her heart swells. She was surrounded by her family. New and old. She kisses her cousins head once more. Grateful for her and everyone who was in the room.

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 12

Hey all, this story will wrap up today, so next week it will go back to just one chapter a day on Tuesdays and Thursdays and when Glitters wraps up, Sundays will go back to one a day as well.

A short chapter for the first of two, because this chapter got too long and needed to be cut down a tad and the next part fits better as a whole.

Eddie and Steve finally kiss and just giving Steve the loving crafting circle he needs.

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

****

Steve got to see where the cast ate their meals, where some of the cast stayed in large tents (for those that had traveled from out of state but couldn’t afford a hotel), he got to meet the people who sold the food to the tourists, and the people who cleaned up every night.

It was marvelous.

“So was the two events they were trying to schedule at the same time, the joust and your trick riding?” Steve asked after they left the cleaners.

Eddie grinned. “Close, the sword fighting and my trick riding. I told them that I would happily run over those bastards, but I didn’t think the horses would appreciate it.”

“I bet that got them to change their tune,” Steve said with a laugh.

“It sure did, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured.

Suddenly they found themselves utterly alone.

“Steve–” Eddie began, but Steve placed his fingers on his lips.

“Just wait,” he said softly. “There’s something I want to give you first.”

Eddie blinked at him. “You bought me a present?” he asked. Well technically he said, “Ym brut me apresemnt?” since Steve still had his fingers over his mouth.

Steve laughed and dug it out of his pocket. “It’s been on a little journey, one that nearly gave me a heart attack,” he murmured, “but Jeff was able to get it back to me in time.”

He handed the small pouch over to Eddie.

Eddie took it gingerly and rubbed it between his fingers as he looked at the small thing that Steve had made for him. But as small as the item itself was the giving of it, was massive.

“I remembered you telling me that your dice bag broke,” Steve mumbled, “and I really wanted to thank you for all your help this weekend. I don’t think I could of done it without you.”

Eddie looked up at Steve with glossy eyes. “It’s perfect, Stevie.”

“I plan on giving a bunch to Katie for her to sell while I make the bigger pieces,” Steve continued, “and Robin said that I should give the first one to you, because it’s special. And you deserve something really special, Eds. Because you’re special to me and I–”

Whatever else Steve was going to say got swallowed up by Eddie kissing him firmly on the lips.

He had just grabbed Steve by the face and locked their lips together.

Steve was stocked into stillness, but that didn’t last long as he pulled Eddie close to him and deepened the kiss.

Eddie let out a happy sigh as they parted for breath. “Wow, baby. You kiss like it might be your last.”

“Eh...” Steve said with a half shrug and a lopsided smile, “when you’ve faced more then one ends of the world, it very well could be.”

Eddie chuckled, pressing their heads together. “You’ve got me there, big boy.”

“Mhmm,” Steve said softly. “And I’ve got you here, too.” His arms tightened around Eddie’s waist, drawing them flush against each other.

Eddie swatted at him. “Sap.”

Steve kissed him again. “If I’m a sap, then you’re my tree.”

“That was corny even for you, honey,” he murmured, swatting at him at playfully.

Steve just laughed.

****

The end of the Renaissance Fair had come at last. There had been more then a few bumpy moments, but looking out at all the happy faces being lit up by fireworks, Steve was pleased with the results.

And next year was going to be even better, he had plans for helping the kids have quality costumes like Corroded Coffin boys had.

He might still have to do some altering instead of full on sewing all of the costumes, but he was really looking forward to it.

Katie had told him that he had several people offer her crazy money for the pouch he had accidentally dropped, so he promised her a dozen by the end of next week for her next Fair. In different sizes too.

Eddie had been the one to suggest that. Little coin purses, dice bags, and even handbag sized ones. Eddie was even going to help him find the right materials for it, ones that weren’t as expensive as the little dice bag Steve gave him.

Steve was really looking forward to it.

They hadn’t told the kids yet about their change in relationship. Not yet. They wanted to hold onto it for themselves a little longer.

Though, judging from the look that Will and Mike had sent him, Steve was pretty sure most of them had figured it out anyway.

So what started out with longing gazing into each others’ eyes, ended with holding hands under the cover of darkness as fireworks exploded overhead.

Steve had never been happier and he just knew more happiness was coming his way.

****

Steve was proven right when Claudia called him up the next morning.

“Good morning, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve murmured sleepily.

“I’m sorry, dear,” she said, “did I wake you?”

Steve looked blearily at the clock on the microwave. It was after ten in the morning.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, “I don’t usually sleep this late.”

“While that is certainly true,” Claudia agreed, “you also don’t normally spend three full days at a fair. Too much sun, too much fun, and too little sleep makes for a tired Steve. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks, Mrs. Henderson. Was there something you needed?”

“Oh, yes!” she said brightly. “Are you free this afternoon, from around two to four?”

Steve looked over at his calendar and squinted. “Looks like it, unless the nuggets call for rides to wherever.”

Claudia chuckled. “I think they’re going to be just as tired as you and not want to go anywhere today.”

He laughed. “Yeah, probably.”

“So, me and couple of the other moms have a sewing circle every Sunday,” she explained. “And we were all wondering if you wanted to come and join us. We have punch and little treats and spend two hours working on whatever project we have going on while we fill each other in on what’s happening in our lives.”

“You gossip,” Steve accused, teasingly.

She giggled. “Gossip is such tawdry word.”

“Like your every day language wouldn’t make a sailor blush,” Steve said dryly.

“And how would you know that?” she asked, curiosity coloring her tone.

“Ma’am, your son has the worst language I’ve ever seen on a teenager,” Steve said, “and I’m damn sure he didn’t get it from his dad. Even when he was alive.”

Claudia’s giggle turned into a full on laugh. “All right, you’ve got me there, Steve. So you’ll come?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Fantastic!” she cried. “We meet at Joyce’s this week.”

“This week?” Steve asked, already plotting what to bring as a treat and which project he wanted to start.

“Yes,” Claudia explained. “We rotate every week so that one person isn’t stuck hosting every time. And if you come often enough, we’ll have it your place once in a while, as well.”

Steve frowned appreciatively. “Sounds good. I’ll see you later then.”

Claudia squealed in excitement. “I can’t wait. We’re going to teach you how to use a sewing machine!”

That really piqued Steve’s interest. “Oh yeah?”

“It was Karen Wheeler’s idea,” she explained. “Karen doesn’t sew like the rest of us, but she does cross-stitch while we all chat. Apparently Mike was telling her about all the sewing you did for him and his friends and that it was all by hand.”

Steve nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see him. “Yeah, my parents thought sewing was for girls, so I learned by hand.”

“Make sure to bring some examples of your work,” she said. “I want to blow Olive Peterson’s mind. She’s of the same mind as your parents, even though what she does, the knitting, was originally only for men.”

“I have these pouches I’ve decided to make and sell,” Steve said with a grin, “so I can bring those to work on and bring some of the work I did for the kids to show off.”

“That’s brilliant!” Claudia said. “I see you later!”

Steve said goodbye and hung up.

This just might be the thing he needed.

****

Part 13

Don't quote me on the knitting originally being for men thing, it was something I learned when I read a 12 Dancing Princesses retelling years and years ago. The soldier in the story knitted to keep awake at night.

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @gregre369

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach

@danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

@useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss

@croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv

@dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter @cryptid-system CLOSED

[fleckficgirl]

Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 12

Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.

Warnings: sex, age gap, language, violence, mental illness, assault

Word Count: 2093

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Arthur's Note (see what I did there?): Thanks every so so much for the kind words and encouragement. I didn't realize the new trailer was coming out today but I started writing this fic again about a week ago and I think I'm on a roll! I <3 Arthur Fleck so much and hope you enjoy!

Arthur had insisted on walking you home, had kissed you again at the front door of your apartment building and promised to call you the next morning; you both had the next day off and planned to see each other.

When he pressed his body into you. You could feel he was hard, but restraining himself. Arthur was nothing if not a gentleman. It only made you love him more.

“I'll call you in the morning,” he hummed into your ear.

“First thing in the morning,” you corrected him with a sly grin.

Arthur smiled, blushing. “First thing in the morning.”

You hated to pull yourself away from him. It was crazy: You'd never cared that much about sex, but for the first time in your life, you understood what it felt like to want to ask someone upstairs, what it felt like to actually want someone to spend the night in your bed. But of course, you had your parents to think about and they'd never go for it in a million years.

Arthur watched you get into the elevator. When the doors closed, you felt like you might cry. Reminding yourself you were gonna see him again in twelve hours was the only thing that put your longing heart at ease.

***

It was almost midnight, and your parents usually went to bed around ten, so you were surprised to find them both sitting up on the sofa in the living room, watching what had to be the last half hour of The Murray Franklin Show. They never watched Murray. They never even stayed up this late.

“What’s going on?” you asked as you locked the front door and hung your coat up.

“We’ve been worried sick!” your mother cried as your dad muted the television.

Oh boy. This was already off to a great start.

“Why?” you asked, cocking your head to one side. “I mean, I know it’s almost midnight, but-”

“There’s been another killing on the subways,” she continued. “They think it’s related to what happened to those three Wayne boys a few days ago.”

“You’re kidding,” you sat down on the sofa to face them. “Who’d they kill?”

“A man,” your father answered. “But they don’t know anything else yet. You were out all night and didn’t hear anything about this?”

You shook your head. “No. But it’s getting crazier out there.”

“What exactly did you do tonight?” your father raised an eyebrow.

“Met up with friends,” you answered breezily. Technically you weren’t lying. Arthur was a friend. Sort of.

“That’s interesting,” he continued, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Because those so-called girlfriends of yours called here looking for you. Two different times in fact.”

“They did?”

You gulped, trying to scan your mother's face for some kind of hint to help you navigate the choppy waters of your father’s suspicions. But her “worried sick” face had morphed into her “I’m just gonna stay out of it and keep the peace” face.

Typically a bad sign.

“First Tina and then that other girl…” your father said. “The one with the silly name…”

He looked to your mother who shrugged in response.

“Chantelle,” he finally remembered. And Chantelle said she was calling to find out how your ‘hot date’ went tonight.”

Damn that Chantelle. You knew she had a champagne-and-dial addiction - it was why she was still hooking up with at least five of her ex-boyfriends - but you could still murder her ten times with a hatchet. She had no idea how crazy your dad was.

“I told your father it must have been some kind of practical joke,” your mother finally interjected. “You know, those telephone pranks kids these days like to play on one another?”

You could see she was trying to help you out. And for one crazy second, you considered telling them the truth:

Mom, Dad…I’m in love with a beautiful clown.

No, that wouldn’t go over well at all. They’d hit the roof. In fact, they'd go through the roof.

The less you said about Arthur the better. At least for the time being.

“I did go out with friends,” you explained in as even a tone as you could muster. “I don’t know what Chantelle’s talking about.”

“Which friends?” your mother asked.

“Just some friends…from…from…” you struggled to complete the sentence. You never went anywhere besides work these days, so where the hell would you meet any other friends?

“Some friends from GU?” your mother asked hopefully.

It was perfect. You could have kissed her right then and there. Saved by the mama.

“Yes!” you nodded. “Yes, some friends from college.”

“Honey, that's wonderful!” your mother smiled.

Your father nodded approvingly. “Those are the kinds of people you should be spending time with. People who are serious about their future…as opposed to a couple of strippers.”

“They’re not strippers, Dad!”

He smiled at his own dumb joke and you pursed your lips. Your father never approved of anyone if he didn’t deem them “serious about their future.” The problem was, most of the kids you’d met at Gotham University were entitled assholes from rich families who didn’t actually care about their futures: no matter how badly they fucked up, their privileged parents could afford to yank them out of hot water and they knew it. Your dad had it all wrong. But you didn’t have the heart to correct him.

“How come you look so disheveled?” your father’s voice broke into your thoughts once more.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He pointed at your rumpled clothes.

“Your outfit’s wrinkled, your hair’s a mess. And your makeup…”

“Did something happen tonight, honey?” your mother asked. You could sense the growing concern in both their voices, and it brought you right back to when you’d started having problems at GU. Your poor parents had to watch as their star student daughter - who’d never given them a lick of trouble - suddenly turned into someone they didn’t recognize. Someone they were afraid of.

“Sweetheart,” your mother prodded gently. “You didn’t happen to get into a…a fight or an altercation with anyone tonight, did you?”

You shook your head and laughed, trying your best to put them at ease. “Not that I can remember.”

It was a true enough answer. More true than they needed to know, anyway.

“You can tell us if you’re…struggling,” your father added. “We want to know if something’s going on.”

You shook your head again. “What happened was, the subway was totally jam packed. Maybe it had to do with the killing tonight, I dunno. Anyway, we were stuffed like sardines. I got all pushed around on the train. You know how the people in this city can be.”

“Fucking animals,” he muttered under his breath. You glanced up at the TV where a still-muted Murray seemed to be delivering his closing words. “You’re alright though, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” you assured them both. “Nothing a shower and some shampoo can’t fix.”

You breathed a concealed sigh of relief as you watched your parents breathe one of their own.

You popped up from the sofa and stretched.

“Gonna get ready for bed,” you announced. “See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, sweetie,” your mom called out. “We love you.”

“Love you, too.”

You turned to go to your room and heard your dad unmute the TV, Murray Franklin’s voice ringing out over the orchestra as an organ struck up the groovy chords from his signature closing song:

“Goodnight, and always remember: That’s life!”

You laughed softly to yourself. “That’s life!” you whispered as you dance-glided down the hall and into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

Life really was something, wasn’t it? Especially life in Gotham, a life like yours: one that now had a beautiful man named Arthur Fleck in it.

After the crazy night you’d had, the shower felt like a balm to your soul. You crawled under the cool covers of your bed, still giddy from your date with Arthur and the promise of seeing him tomorrow. As you drifted off to dreamland, you thought about even though your parents drove you up the wall, you loved them and would do anything for them. You hated the toll your problems at GU had had on them - how scared and defenseless they’d been, not knowing how to help you when the shit hit the fan. They didn’t have the resources and privileges of your ex-classmates’ parents, but they’d stood behind you when no one else had. You’d never forget that.

After the nightmare at Gotham U - after everything it’d put you and the people you loved through - you’d vowed to yourself that you’d never be powerless again.

Although you felt powerless to stop the freight train of emotions you felt for Arthur, you decided he was a worthy exception. Arthur also knew what powerlessness felt like. He wasn't like the rest of them. He was the salt of the earth, just like your parents. Just like you.

And as long as you and Arthur had each other’s backs, you told yourself as sleep enveloped your being, nothing could ever take either of your power away again.

Together, you were unstoppable.

***

The phone rang first thing in the morning, just as Arthur promised. Thank GOD your bedroom had its own phone line.

“Hey you!” you answered playfully on the first ring.

“There you are. We’ve been calling you, bitch!”

“Chantelle?” you paused, your breath hitching.

“And Tina’s here,” Chantelle said. “We’re at Ha-Ha’s. You didn’t call either of us back last night so we decided to ambush you first thing in the morning.”

“Oh yeah,” you shook your head. “And by the way, thanks a lot for telling my dad about my ‘hot date’ last night. He was real happy to confront me about that when I got home.”

“So you did come home last night!” Chantelle gasped.

“I told you a million times!” Tina’s annoyed voice rang out in the background. “She wasn’t gonna have sex with him on the first date.”

“So how was it?” Chantelle asked. “Tell us everything!”

“It was…great,” you answered. “He’s…wonderful.”

Chantelle squealed. “Y/N’s going out with a college boy!” She sang.

“Let’s not blow this out of proportion,” Tina countered. “College boys are a dime a dozen. And most of ‘em wouldn’t know how to please a woman even if they majored in it. Gimme the phone, Chantelle.”

You heard the receiver scuffle on their end and Tina’s no-nonsense voice rang in your ear.

“How was the outfit, hair and makeup?” she demanded. “Any mishaps?”

You paused. It would take too long to explain the whole blacking out thing to them, you reasoned. And you didn’t want them to worry.

“Everything went fine,” you said. “You guys did a great job. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I have some very exciting ideas for the next date outfit,” Tina said. “When are you getting here? I’ll fill you in. We’ll try on some samples.”

“I’m off today!” you sang into the phone. “And I’m actually seeing him again this afternoon.”

“What? You slut!”

Chantelle grabbed the phone back. “You’re seeing him again? So soon? Oh my goodness, Y/N, I feel like you’re gonna marry this guy.”

You heard Tina groan in disgust behind Chantelle before snatching the phone back again.

“Then my outfit ideas will have to wait for your third date,” Tina said. “Assuming there is one. What were you planning on wearing today?”

“I dunno,” you glanced around your messy room helplessly. “I haven’t even thought about it.”

“Okay, listen to me, Y/N. You’re an autumn. That means warm skin tones. Understand?”

“Warm skin tones,” you repeated back, even though you had no idea what the hell she was talking about.

“I’m talking greens, I’m talking yellows…come to think of it: do you have anything in peach?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so.”

“Black is fine. Accessorize with those gold hoop earrings. A full face of makeup just like we showed you. But go easy on the blusher, for the love of God.”

“Thanks, Tina.” You laughed.

“Shit. Hoyt’s coming,” Tina warned. “Call us immediately after today’s date ends. We need a detailed play by play so we can mastermind the plan for date number three.”

“I thought you said these college boys were a dime a dozen,” you countered.

“Mastermind your outfit for date number three,” Tina corrected herself. “If you’re gonna date a college douche, the least you can walk away with is a killer wardrobe.”

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[ros3ybabe]

April 18, 2025 🎀

Hello again lovelies! Life's been too busy to make posts about my days, but rest assured I've kept myself productive and busy with school and work and life in general! I actually had down time this week which was pretty cool, as I usually don't ever have time to rest without guilt lately. But, today's a new day, I don't have work scheduled today, so I'm going to do a bunch of school work and a few household chores today too.

Todo Today (April 18) ✨️

write my mini proposal paper that's due tomorrow night 💻

write and submit extra credit for health psychology 💻

complete assignment from yesterday for health psychology 💻

take notes for chapter 11 health psychology

chapter 14 notes exercise physiology (??)

start FAFSA + email it to stepmom 💻

clean cats litter box 🐈

wipe down bathroom 🧼

night time skincare routine 🫧

wash clothes 🧺

put away all clean laundry 🧺

vacuum bedroom 🧹

wash dishes + put away clean ones 🧼

Should definitely be a good day today. I might go and get a smiley piercing today, I'm unsure if I really am or not yet. And I need to plan my next tattoo since I recently got some extra money, and I've been craving some new ink. Lots of stuff, lots of stuff!

til next time lovelies 🩷

[dawnoftime22]

tent.

| T.S

INTHAF series, Chapter 1

Warnings: None!

Summary: With the thought of being away from Taylor for such a long time, you finally decided to call her up, and with the idea of spending your time in a recently built tent — inside your house…

Word Count: 2.1k

Category: Fluff!

A/N: so...who could write a short series on a song that barely has lines? me. yes. don't expect much, but this is all FLUFF <333 enjoy!!!

P.S, this is a series that was originally from 2023 but never got worked on :] i won't mind if anyone will like it or not, I'm just really proud of it and actually finishing it, but love you all, hope you enjoy anyways<3

| Started on 26/11/2023, 8:33 AM |

| Finished on 29/12/2023, 11:13 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

INTHAF Masterlist

Chapter 2 ->

"It's nice to have a friend."

gif made by me / @likestarlightx :]

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

It was quiet as you were sat on your bed, relishing in the feeling of a peaceful atmosphere. The windows emitted daylight from outside, and the sheets of your bed kept you warm despite the cool air.

Currently, you were free to do whatever you wanted, having no plans for your day to do.

...Or, well, you had no other plans that could get in the way of your one singular plan for today. It was very important to you.

Taylor, your best friend since high school, has been busy in her music business, and you've been thinking of a way to spend time together once she gets a big break from her work. A tent was casually sitting in your living room as your finger lingered on her contact name. Oh. Yes. The living room— only in reason due to all the rain thats been outside.

Your thumb taps on the name eventually, and the screen changes to a calling one, a rhythmic tone sounding out from the phone. You put it against your ear, awaiting for the beeping to stop and a familiar voice to come through.

"Y/N!! Hi!!" Her voice comes out softly. From all the time you've spent away from each other, your mind plagued with worry, but the softness of her tone calmed it right down.

"Hey, Tay," You respond right back, her name coming from your mouth just as gently. A smile rose on your face, and she could hear it in your voice.

"We haven't talked in a while. What's up?" As you listened, her voice sounded happy, or excited. There was no background noise at all, and it didn't seem like she was stressed. At least relief flowed through you, with the hopes that you caught her at a good time.

But in her side, her face and day had brightened up the second she saw your name pop up on her phone screen, and now she was fidgeting with her necklace as she waited for your response.

You took a breath in. "Nothing, really, I just thought...are you busy at all today?" You were about to mention the plan of hanging out right away, but since she's been so busy, you didn't want any expectations of either of you being disappointed, so you asked her first.

You hear her hum through the phone, like the gentle melody of her songs as you waited. "No, I'm free all day," she said softly. With a soft sigh, you let yourself lay down comfortably on your bed, knowing that if you stood up, it would only make you pace the room as you talked.

You pressed your phone against your ear, making sure your grip wasn't too loose. "Wanna have a sleepover or something?" a pause went by, but then you simply blurted it out. "I have a tent in my living room."

A moment of silence went by. You could almost imagine her expressions. "What? What led you to doing that?" Her surprise was present in her voice, a soft laugh echoing over the call, and you giggled yourself.

"Well, I was thinking of going camping with you but...since you've been busy lately, I thought we could do a short and easy way to feel like we're camping without having to." You explained, trying to give her reasons to come over.

Another silence goes by as she processes your words. Either that, or her brain may have short-circuited. You thought the first one, because your own brain might be dealing with the latter. "It's also just been very rainy, and who doesn't like feeling like a child again, sleeping in tents?" you add in, although a slight grimace rises on your face at even the thought of a tent sitting casually indoors rather than outdoors.

"You...are so random sometimes." She breathes out a laugh, then goes quiet. You hear a small meow coming from the background, and it was obvious her attention had gotten distracted by a certain cat.

"And...?" You added, having not gotten an answer to your question yet, and your fingers brushed over your bedsheets to find something to soothe your own heart.

"Yeah, sounds like fun!" She says, her voice going up a bit at the end of her sentence, saying it with full honesty and excitement, while another meow sounds out again.

"Who is that in the background?" You asked with curiosity, the noise being adorably small like a kitten.

"That's Benjamin. He jumped on the piano keys." You hear some distant sounds of the piano keys being played, presumably, his paws hitting them as he walked.

Taylor had picked up your call while at the piano, that's for sure. You caught her in the middle of a practice or songwriting session.

Then you blinked after process of realizing she stopped playing to pick up your call, but another thought went by of this new cute friend.

"You got a new cat while you were gone?!" She hears your gasp through the phone, and breathes out a chuckle. "He sounds so cute and small..." you murmur, a smile upon your face. Some shuffling came through before she spoke up again.

"Yeah!! I saw him while filming a music video, so I thought why not..." she says, keeping watch on the small little kitten walking on the keys. You couldn't wipe the smile off your face, and you shook your head. She could have 50 or more kittens if she wanted to, and in another universe, she probably did have that many.

"So, your place, I'll be there in 20 minutes?" Taylor asked. Since you two were close, she had once focused to getting a house near yours, just so you could go to each other's places easily.

"Yeah! I'll see you later, then." You said, sitting up. She could hear the movement, but couldn't see them since you were on a voice call, and you could hear her keys jingling in the meanwhile, a small laugh going by. "Okay, see you."

"See you- And don't forget snacks! Specifically marshmallows!!" You manage to get your words out as you giggled. You already had your snacks ready, all you had to do was just put biscuits and chocolate, or put the marshmallows over a fire. Or well, in this situation, your stove.

"Okay, okay. Bye, now!" She said, almost urgently, and you had to stop yourself from questioning on if she had things to finish up first, or if she was excited. On the other side, she was first petting Benjamin's soft fur, smiling.

"Bye!" The end call tone sounded out, and you pulled your phone away with a smile as you laid back to your bed, content with the conversation you had.

A sigh leaves your lips. It had been so long, but the time went by like the ceiling fan spinning from your ceiling, fast and full of bustling wind. There was nothing else to do but wait.

You turned on your side, then got up, (although regretting it and cursing yourself for how fast you went), you decided against continuing your comfortable position on the bed, for the risk of being too comfortable, or sleep creeping in to the corners of your mind.

Your legs led you off to your already open door and to the living room, where the lights were dimly lit with an orange color, and the curtains were closed, leaving a cozy atmosphere in the room.

The kitchen was your target. There, the snacks were already sitting beside a backpack upon the kitchen counter. Opting for an easier way rather than getting them all in the tent later with your hands full, you instead pick them up and place them all in the bag.

There were books in the tent too, ready to read with a small reading lamp. After gracefully setting down the bag, you went back out and laid down on the couch, not wanting to get bored of the small space while waiting for Taylor.

You fiddled with the couch's material, fingers brushing against it before a sigh escapes. Your phone was an option for distraction, sitting face down off in the corner of your vision, but you had already spent far too much time on it when you were trying to decide on calling Taylor or not.

You grabbed a book instead, going to get youreelf lost in a world of fantasy to pass the time. It was only you inside the house, but for now, you focused on Taylor's arrival that will soon come.

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

Once 20 minutes or so passes by, you soon hear the doorbell echoing through the front door. You nearly jump from the couch in eagerness, the ceiling having turned to be entirely the most dull thing you've stared at your whole life.

Walking to the door, the air was cold from the rain that had started dropping down just a bit ago. Your hands go to the doorknob, and when you get it open; behind it, reveals the blonde standing with a gentle look on her face, her eyes brightening at the sight of you.

"Hi. I brought Benjamin." She smiles, turning her body slightly to show you the small black, brown-ish eared kitten. You giggle, loving how she sometimes brought along one of her cats, although this was a new addition.

"He's very welcome to join," you say, noticing how the sky behind her had gone dark. Not only from the rain, but the sun having gone down. You didn't even realize the time was evening when you called her.

You move to stand aside, letting her enter your home just as she used to so many times before. She quickly notices the tent sitting in your living room, and her eyes were set on it. The warm atmosphere wrapped her in a comfortable feeling.

"You really did go all out," she says softly, but giggled, stepping in and admiring every aspect of your living room, and the way the tent actually seemed quite comfy.

"Anyway, great news that he's welcome, because he's been wanting to meet you." You could see the kitten stare up at you from the peekhole of the bag. She takes off her shoes, leaving them on the shoe rack before turning to you.

"Meet me?" You ask, slightly confused, walking towards the tent with her following off with you after she was done.

"Okay, this sounds silly, but he's seen pictures of you on my phone, and I kid you not, gotten my attention with meows and paws on the screen multiple times!" This time, a bright laugh comes from your lips, making the corners of hers, turn up softly. The two of you manage to arrive at the tent, it safely (and nearly silly looking) sitting at the living room.

You had prepared by leaving the zip closed before, so when you arrived, you take a glance at her with a corner of your lip going up. She looked at you with raised eyebrows, but also an amused smile. Your hands go to open it, a smooth sound coming from the zipper until it fully opened, and the sheet flopped down to reveal the inside.

You crouch to go into the tent, settling down at your own spot as you watch her get in too, her face awestruck. Inside, was a small camping lamp you had bought a few days ago, and a projector that shoots up a picture of the night sky up the ceiling of the tent, leaving it glimmering with stars.

"I can't believe you did all this." She breathed out, sitting down next to you as she stared up at the scenery above her. She shook her head, a growing smile on her face when she glanced at you.

She took off her cat backpack and opened the zipper, Benjamin jumping right out and beginning his new curious adventure of inspecting everything in the tent, including you.

"Aw, he's so tiny." You watched the kitten's paws pad around before their directions turned to you, and its beautiful blue eyes shined your way. It certainly reminded you of a certain someone, that's for sure.

Your hand reaches out, and Benjamin lightly sniffs your hand before walking in, making your hand touch his head. Your face melted into pure adoration completely when you felt his soft fur.

You continue petting him, ending up entirely with him in your hands, while Taylor was watching the interaction gently. Her eyes held a somewhat calm, loving look in them. You didn't see, because you were too caught up in the new friend you had gotten.

You held Benjamin in your lap before going to grab something in your bag at the side of the tent. Both the kitten and Taylor had looked, practically sharing the same face as your hands searched. Eventually, your hand got back out with two vars of chocolate.

Taylor let out a small "ooh!" when you set it down in between the two of you, her eyes tracing every movement of the sweet treat, realizing what the marshmallows was for.

She reaches back to the cat backpack, opening another zipper to the further back, and brought out her own treats; the bag of marshmallows you asked for. "Got the marshmallows." Her hands gently open the pack and grabs one...(four) and eats it, her face brightening at the delicious taste.

You smile at her, grabbing one for yourself and opening the chocolate bar, too, setting hers beside her. If anyone saw you, they would've thought they were seeing kids hanging out. But, who cares? The treats were quite delicious, after all.

As you were unwrapping the chocolate, she had popped the other marshmallows in her hand, off into her mouth, and now was grabbing Benjamin off your lap, holding the purring kitten close to her chest to pet him.

She waits until she's swallowed the food in her mouth to lay down on the floor, placing Benjamin on her stomach. As the relaxation started to sink in, he had his eyes closed, curled up comfortably. The warmth of everything was making up the most coziest atmosphere.

Her eyes searched the ceiling with the made up stars, as if looking for a type of constellation. You didn't even know if this projection had the actual night sky, but it would be impressive if it did.

You bit into your chocolate, letting it melt in your mouth as you looked at her every movement. The soft skin of your hands brushed against each other ever so slightly when you moved to lay down fully, letting your head rest against the floor.

A crinkle sounds out as she cracked open the chocolate pack too, casually eating it with the marshmallows— a sweet chaotic taste that can either be teeth rotting or delicious in your mouth. Probably both. The least is, you both will remember to brush your teeth very thoroughly later on, and drink some water.

You both watched the beautiful stars with a comforting silence that came over the moment, all of everything, finally, seeming to slow down for just a minute. Maybe an hour. Her guard was lowering down, and you could slowly see the work starting to get taken off her shoulders.

You soon moved to prop yourself up into a sitting position, looking over to your side once more. It didn't take much for Taylor to notice, and she turns her head to look at you, her eyes curious on what you were doing.

You grab a piece of a post-it note from the small pile of items, along with a pen that sat next to it, writing down something without letting her look. She smiles, her mind wanting her to move to see, but she waited patiently for you.

You lay back down, the paper with ink handwritten on it in your hand. Slowly, you put it on her lower stomach, right below where a sleeping Benjamin sat, as if she didn't just watch you do the entire thing.

She tries her best not to smile and instead put on a curious face, her hand going to delicately grab it. She holds it up to the ceiling, since she was laid down, and read the words. It was, 'I miss you :(', and her insides filled with warmth. The blonde looks to you, who's been waiting in anticipation.

"I'm right beside you!" She exclaims playfully, laughing. But in her heart, she knows what you're trying to point to is that she was missed by you, so very dearly in the time of her absence.

Her teeth caught her bottom lip, but the corners of her mouth was raised up in a smile. "I missed you, too." she says, her voice being so soft.

You didn't see it, but she had slipped the note into the pocket of her sweater...for safekeeping.

end of chapter 1. <3

INTHAF Masterlist

Chapter 2 ->

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

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@dmenby3100 @tia-thesimp @marvelwomen-simp @escapereality4music @fawnedolly @riaras-everthroner @lovelyy-moonlight @stevecore @midastouch013 @liloandstitchstan @maleahoswick @raven-ss @deadlymistletoe @bambisfawns @littlemissdelrey @natsxwife @orange15quote @bleachxbunny @hushwhennooneisaround @samsgf22 @gay4hotmilfs

[jinxsleftmiddlefinger]

timebomb highschool au

(part 11)

(masterlist) (read on ao3)

description: timebomb highschool au pretty much sums it up lol. there’s also canon storylines (vander death, vi conflict etc.) but translated into a modern context

note: sorry this one took a little longer ur girl is struggling 💔💔 thank you to anyone still reading this ilyyy!!!! I think I might try to wrap it up in the next two chapters but we’ll see where it goes lmao (not edited so bare with me here)

Jinx is scared. Her heart is hammering in her chest and her face feels red hot. She shouldn’t be scared; it’s not even that big of a deal.

It’s just, Ekko isn’t even technically her boyfriend yet, maybe he doesn’t even really like her. And she’s scared for him to meet Silco and Sevika, for them to meet him. To meet her non-boyfriend.

The voices are loud today, and it’s only making her feel worse and worse. She can’t let him see how fucked up in the head she is on top of everything else.

She’s been getting ready for much too long now, staring at the mirror like her appearance is going to change. Silco keeps calling for her to come downstairs, but she’s frozen, studying every aspect of her face, of her hair. Like it’s going to get any better.

It doesn’t matter. It’s just dinner. She’s looked worse, right?

Jinx smiles at herself in the mirror and immediately drops it when she realizes how much she looks like a maniac. She is not going to make it through the night.

“Jinx!” Silco calls again. “Do you want to be late?”

She ignores him in favour of running her hands through her again.

“Jinx!” 

“That’s me.” She whispers to herself before standing, grabbing her small purse and making the walk downstairs.

The restaurant is fancy; Silco will only ever eat out if it’s at a fancy restaurant. A run down diner would have been just peachy, but no, she instead must dress up for some high end place downtown. She spent way too much time pondering what was too causal and what was too fancy. An embarrassing amount of time.

Silco and Sevika are already in the car by the time she’s on the first floor, and Sevika’s revving the engine by the time she makes it outside, still sliding her boot on. 

“I’m going, I’m going!” Jinx speed walks towards the car. “Impatient ogre.” She grumbles.

Jinx slides into the backseat, Silco in the passenger seat in front of her angrily gripping the wheel.

“There.” Silco says, sitting in a weirdly proper position. “We are all ready now.”

“Took her long enough.” Sevika steps on the gas pedal.

“This dinner was kind of on short notice.” The blue haired girl in the back seat crosses her arms.

“And whose fault is that?” 

“It’s Silco’s, not mine!”

“Jinx,” Her adoptive father warns her for what seems like the millionth time today. “This dinner is going to be fine. And it will be good for you. Both you and the boy.”

“Are you planning something? I swear to god-“ Jinx huffs. “Listen, I appreciate the notion, but I just don’t trust that this gonna work out. Like I’ve already told you, me and him are not dating!”

“You were swapping spit behind the school like you were about to take your pants off.” Sevika comments, not even acknowledging the glare that Jinx gives her.

Silco simply nods in the drivers direction, a silent agreement.

“Ach! Come on, guys! I was not gonna have sex with him or something at the back of the school-“ Her arms flail around wildly.

“That does bring up the conversation, Jinx, that-“ Her adoptive father starts, turning to look at her from the passenger seat.

“Nope!” Jinx slaps her hands over her ears. “We are not doing this. Not again.”

“You are getting to the age-“ He tries again.

“Stop! Stop stop stop! Sevika, stop him!”

“Leave me out of this.” The driver rolls her eyes.

“You need to be safe, Jinx, and-“ 

“Crash the car! Sevika, crash the fucking car!” Jinx sticks her fingers in her ears.

“Oh really, Jinx,” Silco clicks his tongue, resigning from his mission defeatedly. “Be mature, please.”

She shakes her head, silently looking out the window. “Do not try to give Ekko the talk at dinner, please.” She shivers just imagining it. “If you love me at all, do not bring anything of the sort up.”

Sevika laughs dryly and the car goes quiet.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Jinx can see Ekko’s car already waiting in the parking lot. She can only recognize it slightly, considering Ekko usually took his skateboard to school. Seeing his car was a rare occurrence, but she had memorized the look of it enough to know it’s his.

She hops out of the car, smoothing out her skirt beneath her hands and shoving her phone into her pocket. Ekko gets out of his car at the same time. She almost wants to laugh at how he looks.

He looks terrified, and on top of it all, he’s wearing some dorky suit. She wanted to say that a suit at dinner was like a gaping wound in shark infested waters; Silco could smell weakness like a damn animal. She wanted to tell him he didn’t need to do all that, not for her. At the same time, she wants to grab him by the silly tie and kiss him stupid.

Alas, Sevika and Silco are third wheeling this not-date with her not-boyfriend. But a girl can dream, right?

“Hey.” Ekko says, and she smiles tightly.

“Hey.” 

The 4 walk towards the restaurant in silence, Jinx standing beside Ekko, and Silco and Sevika walking in front of them.

“Are you nervous?” Jinx whispers to the boy beside her.

“Yeah.” He laughs anxiously. “Really nervous.”

“Can I let you in on a secret?” She looks at the ground. “I’m nervous too.”

He looks at her through the corner of his eye. “At least we’re in the same boat, huh?”

She trails here eyes from his brown ones to his lips and then back up again. Focus, Jinx. Focus.

“Yeah.” She shoves his shoulder lightly. “Except, I’d be more worried if I was you. Don’t fuck it up.” Her voice is light.

“I’ll try.” He shoves her back and she giggles. He gives her an odd look, one she can’t quite decipher. Adoration? Confusion? Want?

Jinx shakes her head to clear herself off all the thoughts. Her mind is whirring with desire and confusion and worry faster than she can even keep up.

The restaurant is exactly how she expected it to be; unbearably neat and clean and full of snobby people. It smells like cleaner and polished floors, and the classical music playing softly in the background makes her long for her headphones on max or the car speaker vibrating through her body.

“And so the fun begins.” Jinx mutters to herself as they walk towards their reserved table, her shoes clicking on the stupid fancy floors.

Of course Silco would choose a place like this to eat at. Of course.

Jinx slides into her seat and Ekko stiffly sits down beside her, putting his hands in his lap and holding his shoulders back like he’s made of ice. She tries to not show her amusement at his effort to impress Silco and Sevika.

“So, Ekko.” Silco says, folding his hands on the table like how he does at his principals desk. “How are you?” 

“I’m good, thank you, sir.”

Jinx almost laughs at that one. She can see Sevika’s lips curling up at the stupidity of the interaction.

The waiter interrupts with a pitcher of water, pouring some in each of their glasses. Jinx chugs all her water while Sevika asks for wine and Silco stares at Ekko, who looks close to a breakdown.

After the waiter refills her cup and walks away, Jinx chugs the water again, whilst the lady across the table watches her with mild disgust.

“What?” She says, wiping off her mouth.

Sevika just raises an eyebrow.

“Ekko,” Silco starts. “I was looking at your grades, and-“

Jinx groans. “Don’t be weird. Why would you do that?” 

“Jinx.” He says slowly.

“Sil-co.” She mocks. Her dad has never scared her.

The waiter returns with Sevika’s wine, and Jinx can feel the itch to grab it and chug that to. She could really use a drink right about know.

She glances over at Ekko, then back at the two adults at the the table. She doesn’t think she should leave him stranded here with them, but she also really needs to pee.

“Going to the washroom.” She informs the table, standing up.

Ekko looks at her with those beautiful big brown eyes, full of desperation. ‘Sorry.’ She mouths at him. She can already picture the interrogation Silco is going to perform in her absence.

The people sitting at the tables remind her of Vi’s annoying girlfriend; preppy and stuck up. Then she thinks of Vi, and her mind starts to scribble over any coherent thought. Jinx really hopes she’s not going it have an episode in the middle of this disgustingly shiny restaurant.

The bathroom is empty when she walks in. 5 stalls, wooden doors, high ceilings. A lot nicer than the school bathrooms, that’s for sure.

Once she’s left the stall, which has a toilet nicer than she knew a toilet could be, she goes over to the sinks to wash her hands. The soap smells like some kind of flowery perfume and the water even feels nicer than normal. She wonders if this is what someone like Caitlyn’s house would be like, what they would live in all the time. She can’t even imagine Vi living somewhere that looks this nice.

Jinx turns to leave, hurrying to be Ekko’s salvation from her slightly intimidating father. She almost walks right into someone coming into the bathroom door, grunting and stumbling back. 

“Sorry.” She mutters, looking only at the heels of the woman in front of her. 

“It’s okay, I should have been watching where I was going.” The woman replies, holding the door open for her.

Jinx freezes. Fuck. She recognizes that stupid accent, that annoyingly smug voice.

She locks eyes with her and can see the exact moment she recognizes her too. 

“Jinx?” Caitlyn says, looking scared and angry at the same time.

“Caitlyn.” Jinx huffs, pushing past her, out the door. “Can’t you just-“ She stops, squeezing her eyes shut as her chest burns with anger. 

Jinx walks away, farther and farther into the restaurant. She doesn’t have the energy to blow up at Caitlyn right now, the mental fortitude. She needs to be alone with the screams and scribbles behind her eyes; she can’t let other people see the crumbling stability her mind holds.

“Can’t you just fucking leave me alone?” She says to no one in particular. She’s alone in this part of the restaurant, the people at the tables sparse in this area. The bathroom is still too close, Caitlyn’s still too close.

And if Caitlyn’s close, that means Vi is…

Right there. Fuck. Pink hair is sitting at a table, facing away from her.

“Why did they have to be here?” She groans to herself, burying her hands in her hair and hiding behind a wall. Jinx is starting to feel grateful the restaurant is so big; there’s more walls to hide behind, more spaces to slip into.

She’ll need those hiding places now. Her mind is slipping away from her by the second.

The panic is seeping in, chipping away at the fragile peace she was holding. She knew today wasn’t going to be a good day, she just didn’t know it would be this bad. She never should have come here. 

The bathroom door opens, and she turns to look from behind the wall. Caitlyn walks out, looking scared.

Seeing Caitlyn again only sets Jinx off more. She pulls her knees to her chest and buries her face, trying to breathe through it. She was never good at dealing with panic attacks, which was unfortunate, considering how often she would have them.

Jinx’s mind is too loud, too quiet, too much, too colourful. She can’t think. Every voice in her head is screaming on full volume, louder than even her speaker could drown out. She can’t think, she can’t see, she can’t feel.

And then suddenly, she can. A warm hand on her arm. A voice, one outside of her brain, one that’s not screeching; it’s warm like summer and soft like a plush carpet.

“Jinx?” It says. The hand shakes rouses her lightly. “Jinx, are you okay? Talk to me, please.” Even filled with desperation, the voice calms her.

Her vision clears, just a bit, of the colourful scribbles, of the mess. She can see who’s in front of her, who’s talking to her. Ekko.

Jinx almost wants to cry from relief.

“Jinx?” He says again. He’s kneeling beside. “Are you okay? Do you want me to get someone? Silco?”

“No,” She manages to gasp out, leaning into his feather light grip on her shoulder. “Just you.” 

Her muddled mind and eyes clear more, and she can see his shining eyes, his furrowed brow. She wants to wipe the worried expression of his face.

She starts to breathe easier, staring at Ekko. Caitlyn and Vi don’t matter, not right now. She doesn’t have to worry about how she fucked up with her sister when she can just sit here, with this wonderful boy who she somehow hasn’t managed to jinx. At least not yet.

“Sorry.” Jinx’s voice sounds raspy and rough, even more than usual. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Ekko tilts his head. “Jinx, you haven’t done anything wrong.” 

She breaths deeply, trying to balance herself out more. “I did…I’ve messed everything up, with everyone.” She hates how her voice breaks.

“No you haven’t.” He sits down beside her, leaning on the wall sheltering them from the outside world. “You haven’t messed it up with me, Jinx. And it’s not your fault, whatever happened.”

“But you barely know me.” She puts her head back on the wall. “I make everyone leave, run away…if you stay any longer, I’ll jinx you too. That’s how I got the stupid name, and I…I can’t do that to you.”

She can hear him breathe. She can feel his confusion, his worry.

“I…wasn’t born with the name Jinx.” She starts to explain. “I mean, that’d be stupid, but my old name isn’t much better. I used to be called Powder, way back when. And then…sweet ol’ Powder fucked up, and she started calling herself what she always had been, always will be; Jinx.”

Ekko tentatively moves his hand down from Jinx’s shoulder, putting his hand in hers. “You’re not a jinx. Everyone makes mistakes. And even if I haven’t known you very long…I know you’re a good person. You deserve good things. I promise.”

He looks at her so sincerely she can feel another piece of her battered, rotten heart break off. 

“Oh.” Is all she can say. 

His wide brown eyes stare into her blue ones. It almost feels like he’s looking into her soul.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ekko.” Jinx bites her lip, desperately trying to find the will to look away.

“I don’t think you will.” His fingers curl tighter around hers. “And even if you do, I’d let you.” He laughs. 

Jinx wants to kiss him so bad it hurts.

Their faces get closer and closer, noses almost touching. She pauses, resisting for a moment. “How’d you even get away from Silco and Sevika?”

“I came to look for you. You were gone for a while.” Ekko’s eyes flash from her lips back up to her eyes. “Are you good now?”

“Yeah.” She breathes. “Thanks.”

She moves forward, holding the back of his head with her hands, and locking his lips with hers. She really hopes this wall gives them enough privacy from the others in the restaurant, or else they’ll have to eat with a view of two teenagers passionately making out.

And even though Jinx’s rotten heart starts to feel fuller, her mind starts to feel clearer, there’s still a piece missing. Still something…not there. She wants to be with Ekko, but she doesn’t want to hurt him. She can’t. Despite what he says, she knows it’s inevitable.

So she savours this kiss like it’s the last. Kisses him as hard as she can, kisses him like it’s goodbye. She doesn’t think he notices that it is. 

I’m sorry, Ekko. She thinks. 

Once a jinx, always a jinx…

[enrichment-time-in-my-enclosure]

Chapter 2 - Truth or Dare

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WARNINGS!!!!

Suggestive content, alcohol consumption, NSFW implications MDNI

Kirishima's room is huge. His whole dorm is huge, for that matter. It's laid out almost like an apartment, with a central living room and two bedrooms, one for him and one for his blonde, hotheaded roommate who you've just learned was named Bakugo, each with an attached bathroom.

Only 1A students were left at the gathering now, with you tagging along as the "guest of honor," as Kirishima had put it when you timidly opened the door to his bedroom to join the game of truth or dare he and Mina were currently setting up.

The timidity came from the fact that Kirishima's door was not the first one you had opened. You had been greeted by Katsuki Bakugo's displeased yell when you accidentally intruded on him, changing out of a shirt that an extremely drunk Denki had spilled some insane concoction of liquor and various juices on.

You had frozen in shock at the door, eyes locked on the bulging muscles of the future pro-hero's back.

Damn. If he wasn't such an asshole about everything, I would have a huge crush on him

You shook the drunken, ill-advised and altogether thirsty thought from your clouded brain and quickly exited the room before he could attempt to berate you further.

Now you were seated on the edge of Kirishima's bed, surrounded by people you barely knew, and about to play a game that you knew might put you in a few awkward situations.

"Hey h-hot stuuuffff.... you gonna plaaay with us?" you turn your head to see the same, very drunk Denki, who ruined Bakugo's t-shirt approaching your side, stumbling and slurring his words.

"You're this drunk, and it's only...11:30..." you read out to him from your phone, which was now pinging with several messages from various unknown numbers.

Who the hell is texting me this much?

"Sorry about him. He always gets this way. I'll get Jiro to force him to drink some water and sober up." The redheaded man whose bed you were currently sitting on thankfully thwarts Denki's intoxicated plan to try and flirt with you, guiding him to the kitchen while he whines in disappointment.

"Thanks, Kirishima. Poor guy definitely needs to take a break."

you decide to finally check your phone to see what all texts from unknown numbers was about while you wait for the game to start.

"Alright!! Ladies and Gentlemen, it is time to play the game of truth or dare!"

Mina's voice booms through the room, evoking excited jeers from the students who remained at the party.

"Today, we have a newbie! Not only is she new to UA, but she's never played truth or dare before! Like ever! In her entire life!"

The partygoers make various exaggerated noises of shock and cheer you on as you laugh along with them, your awkwardness having been eased by the alcohol and vibes.

"You're in for a wild ride, Dove," Kirishima says softly into your ear. "Promise I won't let them make you do anything you don't want to. That's just not my style."

You feel your face heat up at the proximity. His breath fanning against your neck and face. He smells nice, a little like beer and sweat, but mostly nice, and you're inclined to trust him as he scoots a little bit closer to you on his bed.

Mina begins to explain the rules to the group as a recap for them and an introduction for you. They're pretty simple; one person starts by asking whoever they want the question, "truth or dare." The person asked then picks their poison; if they pick truth, they must answer a "juicy" question (Mina's phrasing), and if they pick dare, they must complete a dare (obviously). The catch is that if you refuse to complete your challenge, you have to drink.

With bottles and solo cups in everybody's hands, the game starts.

"Mina," Kirishima starts, "truth or dare."

Mina ponders the question for a second before deciding, "Hmmmm... let's start this game off with a bang. Dare."

"I dare you to give the hottest person in the room a kiss on the cheek." Kirishima responds, leaning back on his elbows with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Alright, if you say so." Mina begins to walk slowly and dramatically across the circle to where you and Kirishima sit, inching closer and closer to Kirishima before turning her face at the last minute to plant a kiss on your face, leaving a pink lipstick mark on your cheek.

"My roomie is obvi the hottest here. No question." Mina giggles, sitting down as Kirishima pouts.

"Alright, my turn to ask then." Mina turns to look at Bakugo and daringly chooses him. "Boomboy. Truth or dare?"

"Truth. And don't call me that shit." He scoffs out, making Mina stifle a laugh.

"What's your body count?" The room goes quiet in anticipation of his response.

"That's a stupid question. Ask another."

"Thats not how the game works Kacchan."

"Fine. One." Bakugo replies, looking down into his drink and swirling the dark liquid.

"That's not true Kacchan. You have to tell the truth."

With that last comment, Izuku had properly pissed Bakugo off.

He takes a long drink from his cup, face contorting at the taste of the alcohol after, and continues on to his turn.

After a few rounds of chaotic fun, with Shinso being asked if he's ever used his quirk in bed (he chose to drink) and Kirishima being made to lift as many classmates as he could, finally, it was your turn to be asked a question.

"Dove, truth or dare."

"Truth, I'm not so confident I can handle a dare just yet."

"Who do you think has the hottest body in 1A?"

You stare back at (well, more like through) Hagakure who had chosen the question for you, then look around the room.

"Well, if we're talking girls, that's impossible. Everyone here is gorgeous."

"Guys then?" Hagakure keeps prying, trying to get you to spill something juicy.

"It's gotta be between Bakugo and Kirishima. I can't choose. Is that good enough?"

Both men's eyes go wide at your statement, with Kirishima sporting a bright pink blush and Bakugo turning away in embarrassment.

Kirishima suddenly feels completely sober looking at you. He knows he has a nice body; he works hard on it every single day. What surprised him wasn't the implications of your statement. It was the fact that you were saying it.

On the other side of the room, though he put on a tough face, Bakugo felt just a twinge of the same thing his best friend was feeling.

Except you were already next to Kirishima.

And this whole damn thing was way too stupid for him.

"My turn to ask!" You announce in delight, scanning the room for whoever would be your first victim.

"Sho, truth or dare?"

He thinks for a second before deciding his fate.

"Truth."

"I'm gonna go easy on you. Have you ever had a crush on anyone in this room?"

You were sure this would be a no-brainer for your stoic and driven best friend. For as long as you've known him, which is basically your entire life, he has never once expressed romantic feelings for anyone. He didn't even seem like the type to have time for a relationship.

Shoto Todoroki lifts his cup to his mouth and chooses to drink.

.

A/N- Aaaaaaaa I promise this is gonna be a much slower burn than this chapter is making it out to be, I just wanted to establish some stuff right off the bat. I have a taglist now!!! So just lmk if you wanna be added.

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@lunamoonbby