#she said like anyone knows remotely who this is

[reignpage]

The Other Woman

Pt 1

The doctors and psychologists said it’d be great for your husband’s well-being to be with friends and family. And for the most part, that’s proven true. 

Insisting on welcoming Satoru back properly, his students organised a party and invited anyone who had a remote connection with their teacher. Even Nanami had taken time off from work to be here and had given a polite pat on his shoulder and a genuine greeting. 

That brought a huge smile to the white-haired man who pounced on the poor guy without remorse, giggling about how he knew he ‘always liked him really’. It felt great to watch him be surrounded by and showered with so much love and support, the kind he deserves; you could tell it was bringing life back to him. After all, it must have been painful for him to have been cooped up in the house trying to reconcile his new reality with the one he remembers. 

You keep reminding yourself of that. 

Satoru needs this. 

He needs normalcy. The normal he remembers, the normal he went to sleep thinking about and not the one he had suddenly woken up to, years passing him by. 

Everyone knows this. He knows this. Just as you do. 

So why is every person in the party sneaking you pitying and concerned glances?

Sure, no one could possibly think this is easy for you, to be the stranger that Satoru still gets surprised to see in the morning. The one he hesitates to say goodnight to, unsure of the boundaries, the etiquette, the right thing to do. He sometimes forgets to text you if he’s going out, shocked and annoyed, you’re sure, to see the many missed calls and messages from you. And you know he studies the picture frames all over your house like a textbook that would give him all the answer he needs.

All he gets, you’re willing to bet, is the realisation that you’re both the tether he needs to keep grounded, that guides him through the sea of memories he cannot touch, and the leash that binds him to a role he doesn’t remember signing up for. 

Are they looking at you with worry because of the inevitable toll this sudden shift has taken on your mental health or because your husband is talking to his ex-girlfriend the way he used to talk to you?

It can’t be the latter, right?

Because there’s nothing to be worried about. 

Satoru is simply catching up, trying to stitch up the crater-sized hole in his memory with a familiar face. There’s no reason for your hand to shake as you sip your drink or for your eyes to keep darting back over to them, sat alone at a table like they’re the only people in here. 

He’s laughing, throwing his head back and making that obnoxious cackle you love to hear. Loved. Because this one isn’t for you. It’s for her. The woman he shouldn’t be near, the woman he shouldn’t even think about, shouldn’t let touch his arm. 

You’re the wife. 

You’ve got the ring to prove it. 

He’s wearing it. Just not on the hand attached to the arm strung over the back of her chair like he’s protecting her from the rest of the world. Hell, maybe he is. Maybe his infinity is on and covering her. But you don’t have it in you to throw something at them to find out. Either result would be just as humiliating as the other. 

There’s nothing to be done. 

You can’t interrupt. 

Because Satoru needs to know what he said goodbye to all those years ago to know what he says ‘hey, pretty lady’ and ‘good morning, gorgeous’ to now. Or used to say. Now, you’re lucky if he even looks at you without shuffling his feet. 

Eventually, the night draws to its natural end. 

People bid their farewells twice, once to him and her, and then to you. Each time breaks your heart even more until you feel it crumble inside, little shards falling to pieces he won’t pick up. She stands before you, a small, shy smile, like she knows what she’s done. And says it’s ‘lovely to meet you’, and of course you can’t say it back. 

Not when you had been introduced by your name, ‘my beautiful wife’ going nowhere near the tip of his tongue as if those words had never been uttered by your husband. And not when she had been introduced in a hastily withdrawn, stuttered freudian slip of hell. 

“This is my girlfr— Sorry, I mean, my friend. From high school. Yeah, high school.”

Satoru blushes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he waves goodbye to her. And you can tell he finds the act lacklustre, an uninspired, unnatural way to say goodbye to the woman you woke up to and slept beside. 

“Did you have a good time?”

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lip as he casts his gaze across the room, sweeping by the empty hall like he can still see every single person that came. “It was nice to see everyone and catch up.”

You’re thankful he doesn’t ask if you enjoyed the evening because you can’t lie to him but you also can’t tell the truth, can’t burden him anymore with the reminder that he doesn’t fill the shoes of your husband, that he continues to stumble with every step, dragging you down with him. 

So, instead, you fill the silence with a question that is so harmless, so normal it slips out before you can even think to anticipate the devastating crack that goes through your very soul. 

“Ready to go home?”

Satoru nods.

But he’s looking at a seat in the back. 

A seat that’s probably still warm. A seat you could never fill because you aren’t the woman he thought, hoped, he would marry. 

You’re just the woman he did. 

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 7 - [Mack x David]

A/N: In the spirt of American Thanksgiving... and family... I give you David Carlson in Switzerland. I'm giggling. You'll know why when you get through this one 😁

Word Count: 6.0k

“Okay, so David, anyone who is anyone is going to be at this dinner. AND there is a quiz after.” Sophie Hischier teases her sister’s boyfriend. Tonight is their first family dinner since they arrived in Switzerland a couple days ago. The Meiers and Hischiers rented out a private room to celebrate everyone returning to their homeland. 

“Shit, I didn’t bring my flashcards.” 

Sophie giggles like its the funniest thing in the entire world, then looks over at her sister.

“He is so funny.” She hums in Swiss German. “I love him. We’re keeping him.”

“Soph, English.” Mack chuckles, rolling her eyes. Sophie looks back at David. 

“I said, you’re funny. I love you and we keep you.” She reiterates. She squeezes his waist in a quick hug, then floats up to where her parents are walking towards the restaurant. Sophie laces her arm through her dad’s and the three of them take the stairs together. Behind them, Lucie and Connor walk with their daughter. Stella skips with her mom to a beat only the two of them know. 

“Twirl!” Lucie exclaims, cheering when Stella’s gorgeous rainbow skirt flares out in a circle. “So beautiful, baby!” 

“Woo!!!” Mack hears a cheer from behind her. She turns around, seeing her aunt and uncle strutting across the parking lot looking as posh as ever. 

“Expensive.” David gapes at the fancy sports car Timo clicks the remote to lock.

“Oh you don’t even know.” Mack chuckles. “Actually, he probably didn’t even have to pay for that. He’s all sorts of famous in this country.”

“Your dad?”

“Uh huh. Him too. My first car was a Mercedes. Mom tried to talk him out of it. Dad said I was the only one responsible enough to get one. Lucie had to have a BMW.”

“Say that sentence back.” David teases.

“They’re not the same.” Mack holds her hands up. “Like Chevy and Ford.” David snorts.

“Also not the same. Your family is like.. royalty in one of the world’s most expensive countries.” Mack looks at him, contemplating. Then turns away without acknowledging that. What is she supposed to say? He isn’t wrong, but it’s weird to admit to.

Instead, she smiles at her aunt and uncle’s approach.

“This is my Auntie Em.” Mack introduces David to her aunt. 

“Oh! Hi! It’s so nice finally meeting Mackie’s boyfriend. You look better like this. You know, when you’re not hurting my kid.” David pauses, mouth dropped open preparing to greet her. He laughs sheepishly.

“It was an accident. I…” He laughs again nervously, looking over at Mack.

“Honey, I’m kidding.” Emma teases. Her lips tilt up in a sly smile, then she pats his chest. 

“Oh good.” David sighs in relief as she continues striding past him to greet Lucie and Connor. Timo continues on with his wife after giving David a firm handshake.

“Isn’t she something?” Mack smirks. Behind her parents, Liv Meier hustles forward with Luca Fiala on her arm.

“Yeah. We all want to be her when we grow up.” Liv chuckles as she comes up to the two of them, wrapping her arms around Mack. 

“Oh, Hi, Livia.” Mack drawls. “Look at you. You’re stunning. And sooooo blonde!? I love it!” 

“Thank you! I just got a touch up from Auntie.” She shakes the long, blonde waves that are cascading down her back. “I feel like we got the exact blonde I wanted.”

“It looks great. You look so much like Auntie Em. Wow.”

“The best compliment!” Liv giggles. “Hi David, it’s so good to finally see you!” She goes to hug him.

“Oh my god, I forgot you two haven’t actually met in person.” Mack and Liv have done plenty of FaceTimes that David has participated in. But the schedules of Liv being in New York and David or Mack too have not lined up at all.

“I feel like we have though.” David smiles, hugging Liv as Mack greets Luca.

“Hey, good to see you, man.” Luca extends his hand to David. “For the record, loved the hit.” 

“Shhhhhh.” David shushes Luca. “I do not wanna upset Mama Meier.”

“Lio should be thanking you for that hit. Fixed his whole damn life after that.” Mack insists. David places a hand on Mack’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He loves when she stands up for him. 

“Shall we?” Luca asks, extending his hand forward. The four of them walk up into the restaurant, finding their large family chatting in a private room. Stella is in Nico’s arms, pointing at all the pictures on the wall, making up names for the Swiss Alps peaks together. Lexi and Emma are catching up. Lio and Timo drink whiskeys together, listening to Savannah tell an animated story. Lucie and Connor are whispering to each other, lost in their own word as per usual. The twins are out on the balcony with glasses of wine, checking out their options for the night, Mack is sure.

Liv and Luca head towards the bar with Mack and David. The boys grab beers while Liv and Mack decide on martinis. 

“So how are you doing?” Mack asks Liv as they wait for their drinks. Luca and David dove immediately into shop talk about the latest trade rumors and free agency rumblings. 

“Good. Ready to be done with Grad school and this book.”

“Our little overachiever.”

“You should talk. Ms. youngest ever to be nominated for Travel Writer of the Year.”

“I didn’t win.” Mack shrugs.

“Yeah, but you were in the conversation. That’s huge, Mackie.”

“Yuck, I don’t want to talk about me. What about your new book? When can I read it?”

“Oh! Speaking of, I was going to ask, will you be one of my reviewers?!” 

“Yes! Oh my god, yes!” Mack grabs Liv’s forearm, squeezing and grinning excitedly. 

“Okay, perfect! I thought, since I get to do whatever I want without a dumb team telling me what to do… it would be so fun to have you on the back cover with a review.”

“I am so excited. Yes. Absolutely.” 

“Okay but it is a romance. You have to like.. try to like it.”

“Stop.” Mack snorts. “I have a man now. I’m not jaded.” Mack strokes her hand down David’s chest. He looks at her, then smiles, running his hand along her lower back to hold her while him and Luca continue discussing.

“Careful… You look too happy.” Liv winks at her cousin. “I’m thrilled for you.” She whispers quietly. “Love looks good on you.” Mack sighs happily, dragging her cousin into a big hug.

“Learning from the best.” Mack bats her lashes dramatically. “Your parents.” Mack finishes, when she sees her aunt and uncle smooching like teenagers outside. “Look at them.”

“No, they are disgustingly in love. Just be like.. demure instead.”

“Big word!” Mack exclaims. “Okay, I am going to grab this drink and my man and take him outside so he can see the view while the sun is still kind of out.”

“Yes, go.” Liv grabs her drink too.

“Come with me?” Mack asks David, sliding her hand into his free one. They both step outside onto the terrace. Mack sighs immediately at how gorgeous the view is. The sunsets here are so unique and breathtaking. It’s like nothing else has been able to compare and she has seen sunsets all over the world. But this is still her favorite one. 

“Wow.” David whispers. He grabs her hips, pinning her between him and the railing so they can hold each other while taking it all in. The cold glass of David’s beer rests on her forearm. Mack’s eyes scan along the horizon, drinking in the jagged peaks of the Alps. Sometimes, its hard for her to believe this is real, that she got to live and grow up in such a magical place. “How did you leave this place?” He asks her. 

“Sometimes you have to leave to appreciate where you come from. I was at that point.” Mack murmurs back to him. She takes another sip of her drink. “As you’ve probably noticed, everyone in this town knows me.”

“Mhm.”

“I wanted to be anonymous for once in my life. What better place to do that than in New York.”

“Would you move back here?”

“I might. When I’m older and feel like I want a slower life. Would you come with me?”

“Hell yeah. I’d sell the farm and we could buy some land here. Figure out how to make stuff grow…” He trails off dreamily. 

“Always a farmer.”

“Yeah, honey. It’s how I grew up. How I made the farm work too. I knew enough to get by, but when my dad died, that responsibility pushed me to figure out how to make it all successful, not just get by.”

“You’ve done a great job.”

“I’m not fishing for compliments. Just saying.” He shrugs. He takes a long sip of his beer, then rests it back against her arm. “Figuring out alpine farming would be fun. Good retirement plan.” He smirks against her temple, then kisses her there.

Mack has no plans to move back to Switzerland, but knowing David would live here after only a two day taste has her feeling content.

When the lighting of the sunset dims, Mack and David walk back into the restaurant with linked fingers. The warm summer breeze swirls Mack’s hair around as she takes in her family. She loves them. They’re a loud, crazy, hilarious bunch, but they are hers. She loves how David already fits in like a missing piece of them that found it’s way back home. Dinner is served, wine is poured, and laughs are shared all around. The usual suspects are made fun of- Lio and the twins. Everyone swoons when Sophie talks and then grows quiet when Nico speaks.

The dynamics are there, even with Lucie and Connor who disappear during dinner for awhile. Lucie comes back looking way too put together, almost purposefully. Mack catches her eye and shakes her head. David squeezes her thigh under the table. Dessert is decadent chocolate mousse that has David’s eyes rolling back into his head.

“The best.” Mack tells him. He nods.

“Yeah. American chocolate sucks.”

The Swiss at the table cheer proudly. “Okay, he can stay in the family!” Sophie yells.

“Thanks, Soph.” David smiles at Mack when he says it. Mack threads her fingers over his hair then pulls him in for a kiss while everyone watches. David cups her cheek, moving his lips against hers as everyone cheers. 

“To family.” Nico raises his glass. “Proscht!”

The room fills with clinking glasses. Mack and David clinks theirs together too. 

Proscht, indeed.

- - - & - - -

Two weeks into being home with David and Mack is more relaxed than she has ever been in recent memory. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to run off to. Everyone she wants to see is here and everything else can wait. 

Beneath the mountain sun, she lays out in a chaise, quietly reading a book while the boys are bopping around in the lake. Stella is learning how to swim with her dad while Lio and David cheer her on from beside him.

“That’s it Stell!” Connor cheers as she rushes towards him. Mack glances up, seeing the flailing arms and legs of her niece. It looks less like swimming and more like drowning to her. But Connor’s arms wrap around the little girl’s body, pulling her up and out. Stella’s hair is slicked across her face, held over her cheeks by the pink, sparkly goggles she has on.

“Good job!” Lucie cheers from next to Mack. “I’m trying to let go of all my anxiousness, but it’s a little hard.” Lucie sighs to Mack. She scratches at her cheeks then takes another sip of the mocktail she made earlier in the day. 

“Connor has her.”

“I know. It’s just…” Lucie shakes her head. “Hard with my pre-birth anxiety.” 

“I can see that.” Mack acknowledges. Although she isn’t pregnant and doesn’t plan to be, she can certainly see how life-changing moments like pregnancy and birth can alter your brain chemistry and world outlook. Lucie waves at Connor and Stella in the lake.

“Mom! Did you see!?”

“I did, baby! Good job!” She yells down again. “Where is Soph?” Lucie asks Mack. “I thought she was supposed to be back by now?”

“I think they were boating to town for lunch, then she would be back.”

“Oh. She better not be on a boat with someone who is drinking and driving.”

“Really?” Mack purses her lips. “Like you never got into a boat with Lio after he had been drinking.”

“I was dumb. She is smarter than me.” Lucie insists.

“I don’t think anyone is smart at 19.” Mack reminds her. Lucie sighs. 

“I’m going inside. I need a break from life.”

“Okay.” Mack waves to her, then settles back into her book. 

Mack gets through several more chapters of her book before the group in the lake gets tired from swimming lessons. David comes to sit in Lucie’s vacated chair while Connor heads inside to grab Stella a well-earned snack. Lio and Savannah disappear down to the dock to join Liv and Luca there.

“That was super fun.” David sighs. “She really got the hang of it at the end.”

“She has the best coaches and hype boys down there.” Mack smiles, putting a book mark in her book then closing it. 

“Stella is such a firecracker. I love it. At one point, she sucked up some water and we were like ‘take a break!’. She refused. Just said ‘again’ and cruised right through that water to try again.” 

“She worked up an appetite too.” 

“Oh yeah. Needed a jelly sandwich.” David grabs one of Mack’s ankles, bringing her foot into his lap so he can massage it for her. “How is your book?”

“Good.” She smiles.

“Let me guess you’ve read it like 20 times?”

“Yeah and it get better every time.” She grins at him.

“My girl hates surprises.” He chuckles. 

“Yep.” She strokes her big toe down the center of his abs. She then lets it skirt over the ties of his board shorts before resting it back on his thigh. David licks his lips, slowly looking over at her. His green eyes sparkle, a slight smirk lifting a corner of his mouth up. It’s a warning. Mack purses her lips and looks away.

“I’m going to head inside.”

“Will you be back?” He asks. 

“Yeah I feel like I need a snack and a bathroom break.”

“Okay.” David releases her foot. Mack slides it from his lap then stands. She stretched her arms high into the sky, shaking her head at the way her boyfriends eyes are clearly on her boobs.

“Obvious.”

“Not trying to hide it, honey.” He says, leaning back in his chair.

Mack walks in through the sliding glass door, smiling as Stella has jelly smeared all over her face.

“Grape!” She exclaims, holding a half eaten portion out to her.

“Ooo, looks good.” Mack tickles here wet, ruffle covered belly then goes the the fridge to grab a sparkling water. She cracks the bottle open then glugs down a few sips.

“Okay, are we ready to go back out?” Connor asks his daughter. “Maybe do some back flutters this time?”

“I’ll come with babe!” Lucie calls from the living room.

Mack smiles, watching the Woods gather one another then head back out into the lake. The house is quiet, everyone out enjoying the hot summer sun. Mack leaves her water bottle on the counter, then heads upstairs to the guest bathroom. She quickly does her business, then washes her hands. After, she fixes her pony tail and double checks her sunscreen coverage still looks good on her face. She should probably grab a hat while she is inside.

The thought barely gets across her mind as she opens the door. Outside the bathroom, her boyfriend sits, bare-chested, board shorts swelling with a glint in his green eyes. Oh.

“What are you doing?” Mack asks as he steps forward. His hands on her hips push her back into the bathroom. He shuts the door, flipping the lock.

“I don’t trust Stella.” He explains. Mack closes her eyes, laughing and nodding her head. True.

“Bend over that counter.” He points to her. Mack scans his face, beginning to drip into her bikini bottoms with how damn possessed he looks. 

“That one?” She asks, jerking her hand over her shoulder. David turns her shoulders, then forces her to bend over the counter. Mack exhales in surprise. “Okay…” She laughs, then pulls her hair over one shoulder. She looks up in the mirror at him. “Now what?” David smirks at her.

“Your dad followed me into the house.” He tells her as he grabs the edges of her bottoms. Mack stills. She glances towards the door as the cloth falls to her ankles. “He thinks you’re the tamest daughter. The non-chaotic one who would never do something like beg her boyfriend to fuck her in the bathroom while he’s downstairs.”

His fingers glide over her puffy lips, gliding to her entrance to gather up her wetness then spread it across her sex. Mack swallows her moan, keeping her face neutral.

“I don’t know if I want it right now?” She tilts her head, challenging. David raises his eyebrows at her. He begins to undo the ties on his swim trunks, making Mack’s eyes lower with pleasure. 

“You don’t want this?” He asks, gathering his hard erection in his hand. He strokes her core with his swollen head. Mack sways from pleasure but shakes her head no. She breaks eye contact when she does this. David grabs her face, squeezing her cheeks for her to open her eyes. Her lashes flutter as she does, looking almost innocent in the mirror. “Say it again.” He eases just the tip of his cock into her. Mack tries to close her eyes and David squeezes her cheeks harder. “Baby. I asked you to do something for me.”

Mack sags into his body, causing her to swallow more of his shaft. David pulls out of her, letting the hardness slap against her outer lips as he waits for her answer. 

“I want it.” She moans as his fingers twirl her clit. 

“Yeah. Beg.”

“Please, I want your cock.” She whispers. She turns away from their reflection in the mirror to look at him. He leans down, kissing her lips, devouring her mouth like she is his lunch. 

Then he grips his shaft, rolling himself through her slit once, before plunging in. 

In her haze, Mack completely forgot about David’s statement.

Her dad came in with him. 

It isn’t until she is two minutes into getting fucked on the bathroom counter that it hits her. The handles of the cabinets bite into her thighs and knees. David brings her up on her tip toes to get better leverage. Then footsteps hit the stairs.

“Shit.” Mack whispers, reaching back to stop David’s thrusts into her. David looks at her in the mirror, then shakes his head. He leans more forward over her back and fucks deeper into her. The sounds fills the echoing bathroom and Mack shakes her head at him in the mirror. David stops, seeing her clear panic and discomfort.

“Trust me?” He asks her, slowly puling out then pushing back in. The elicit allure of pleasure blurs rational thought from her brain. Mack can only describe what happens next as pure insanity. She nods that he can continue. Then David puts his foot up on the toilet lid before pushes her down onto the counter again. He brings her hand to his balls to keep them from thrashing against her skin. Now his long, deep strokes hit into her without any crude clapping. Her ass nudges against his inner thigh and abdomen instead, allowing deep thrusts but eliminating the risk of being heard.

Mack clenches around him, shoving her mouth into her forearm. She bites down hard as her breasts sway into the cool marble from David’s hard fucks into her. He brings a hand to her neck, close to her shoulder, pulling her back onto his thick cock.

“Shhhh.” He mouths to her in the mirror when she looks up at him.

The closet door by the bathroom opens, they can hear rummaging around. Mack bites her lip, eyebrows squiggling together as she holds back a deep, primal moan.

“Good girl.” He mouths to her, barely audible.

The closet door shuts and the footsteps lead back towards the stairs, clomping down them. 

Once the coast is clear, David begins to fuck harder into her, long, strokes while his hands move to cup her breasts. He massages them, tweaking her nipples as he connects his chest with her back.

“Baby watch me make you cum in that mirror.” He demands. He grips her chin, forcing her gaze back in front of her.

Mack raises her brown eyes to him and watches. There, she sees every dip and curve of his hips as he fucks her pussy. She sighs, collapsing into his thrusts, letting his hands maneuver her body to get them both to their high. When she is close, he keeps that demanding pace, licking his lips, hips dipping down to get her at a better angle. His head rubs at her walls in a delicious tease that has Mack coming around him. He fucks her through her orgasm, keeping a tight grip on her hips as he takes what he needs.

He slams into her three more times, hard, unforgiving, then spills into her core. His hips smoosh her ass, forcing her stomach into the counter uncomfortably. The view of his face as he comes has Mack’s muscles fluttering around him again. She exhales a groan, holding his ass so he stays deeply buried inside of her. When he opens his soft green eyes to take her in, she clenches her walls around him again. David grins at her, then cups her ass, giving it a demanding squeeze. David presses his hips into her harder, then rolls her hips against him. Mack squeezes again, David bites his lip then hisses at the overstimulation.

“Fuck.”

David pulls out of Mack, bringing with him a glob of his cum. He grabs toilet paper, wiping it off, then goes to her used, puffy lips. He cleans her off as best he can, before pulling her bikini bottoms back into place. He tucks himself back into his shorts, then grabs Mack’s hips, holding on to her as he sighs.

“Better and better every time. I swear.”

“Yeah, cause you’re a freak in this house.” She chuckles. Her and David have had a great sex life since the beginning, but he has been almost insatiable since they’ve arrived in Switzerland. He shrugs.

“Something about you here has me hooked even more than usual.” Mack stands back up to her full height. David’s hands move to wrap around her stomach, holding her close. His big hands completely cover her abdomen, making Mack’s insides fill with butterflies. He stares at her in the mirror then turns to kiss her head. 

“I love you.” Mack tells him. “I don’t want to share you anymore. Let’s go take a nap.” Mack flips her hair back over her shoulder. “You can hold me and kiss me and love on me again when we wake up later.” David smiles.

“Sounds like Heaven.” 

Mack goes to the door, unflipping the lock then glancing both ways. When it’s clear, she pushes David out into the hallway. He laughs at how guilty she looks tiptoeing back to her room. She leans against the door, sighing in relief at not being caught.

“Now that I’m not dizzy from your dick, I will literally die if he heard us.”

“He didn’t hear anything.” David assures her. He has no idea, clearly, but Mack finds it adorable that he wants to ease her worries. “If he did, I’ll take the blame. Let him hate me so you can stay perfect in his eyes.”

“My dad definitely doesn’t think I’m perfect.” Mack crawls into bed next to him after changing into a pair of athletic shorts. David collects her to his chest immediately. 

“You’re perfect to me, honey.”

David rubs her hair.

Mack rubs his stomach.

Then they do the best thing you can on a summer vacation, fall asleep in a warm cocoon of love.

- - - & - - -

(David)

Exhausted from swimming in the lake all day, Mackenzie Hischier lays curled up into a perfect ball in her boyfriend’s lap. David strokes his hand along her back, careful to keep an even rhythm so she doesn’t wake up. She’s been fighting a nap all day after he kept her up most of the night. It wouldn’t be fair for him to wake up her again when she’s finally getting some good sleep. So slow, continuous strokes over her sweatshirt are what he does.

David has loved everything about Switzerland, but there is something sinfully sexy about fucking Mack in her childhood bedroom. He can’t get enough of it. He’s never been one to wake her up multiple nights in a row, for multiple rounds, but here he is, doing it for almost an entire month. He loves her soft moans, loves the way she bites onto the meat of his palm to stay quiet, loves knowing no one else has ever had her in that room before. Not even her dipshit college “boyfriend” who couldn’t find her clit.

What a fucking idiot. David finds himself quietly scoffing and shaking his head. He blinks away his thoughts, then adjusts Mack a bit on his thigh where her hip bone is digging into him. He tilts his head down to look at her face. Her lips are split apart and the left side of her nose squishes slightly up on his chest. He smiles down at her, loving how comfortable she is here with him. When he raises his gaze back to the room, he catches Nico Hischier studying them. David double checks his hands are in appropriate places on Nico’s daughter then gives him a nod. Nico nods back, a sign of acceptance, then turns back to the TV where a movie plays out.

David hopes to catch Nico and Lexi tonight without Mack hovering around the corner. He thinks she might finally be tired enough to go to bed first. David’s chest starts to pound a little harder in his chest at the thought of the conversation he needs to have with his girlfriend’s parents. He knows they like him, but hopes the last four weeks they’ve spent here has them completely comfortable with giving him permission to marry their daughter.

He can’t imagine life without Mack. She stormed into his life all hot and bothered, overstimulated and under appreciated. He’s gathered her up in the midst of all that and soothed those out of control parts of her by loving her so well. He knows her parents can see that, hell Nico is looking over at them again seeing it in real time. Mack finds David safe and comfortable. No one has ever been able to hold her free and kept at the same time. 

David vows to be the only one to do that. Ever.

After her parents give their blessing.

The movie ends and Sophie’s loud yawning makes Mack startle awake. She sighs, gripping David’s sweatshirt tighter. He kisses her head, then begins to work his grip around her back and under her knees.

“Ready?” He asks her. She nods. David stands with her in his arms, carrying her up the stairs to her room. He lays her on the queen sized bed, filled with a deep purple comforter adorned with ruffles. It’s so moody but girly, just like her. He can imagine her laying on this bed as a teenager, head phones in, book in front of her face as she ignored her dad’s second call for dinner.

“I’m gonna grab some water for us. I’ll be back.” He murmurs to her. Mack doesn’t even hear him. She’s already fallen back to sleep tucked into her sheets. 

David won’t wake her up tonight. It’s clear she needs the sleep.

Quietly, he tip toes out of the room. Lucie and Connor are saying their goodbyes with a sleeping Stella in her father’s arms. Nico smoothes the little girls curls down, then kisses her cheek gently.

“Goodbye, sweets. We will see you back home okay?” Nico assures the little girl. She nods sleepily in response, then yawns.

“Bye. See you for Fall break.” Sophie hugs the two adults, then skirts around everyone to go up to her room. David nods to Lucie and Connor.

“See you tomorrow at the airport.” He acknowledges them. They’re all heading back to New York on the same flight. Then Connor and Lucie will be heading to Massachusetts while Mack and David jet to Iowa.

Nico and Lexi walk the family out of the house to the car. David waits leaning against the wall in the entry way. He glances over his shoulder, listening for sounds of Mack, but hearing none. Even Sophie has gotten quiet upstairs. The two parents walk back into the big house holding hands. 

“Hey, I’m sorry to ah, pounce on you right at the end of the night, but I was hoping we could talk?”

“Sure.” Lexi nods, motioning with her hand back to the living room. David leads the way, sitting back in the chair him and Mack had been in earlier while her parents take the couch. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. 

“What’s up?” Nico asks, a slight smile on his face. David smiles back, breathing out heavily as he glances at the pictures on the wall. There are several of Mack when she was younger with varying faces. One in particular he loves because she’s sticking her tongue out while crossing her eyes. She’s carefree like children are and he brings that same looseness out in her as an adult.

“To start, I want to say thank you for letting me stay here with your family. I have really enjoyed my time here. You two have welcomed me here, and into the family, without any reservations. You knew me before as Connor’s teammate but my on-ice personality is a little different than who I am off the ice. I know with your career, you understand that.” Nico chuckles and nods. 

“Um, every time I try to get the words together to describe what Mack means to me, I fail miserably, but I’m gonna try to get this right for you two. Simply put, I love her. Unconditionally. With every fiber of who I am, I love your daughter. Every single thing about her, even the parts of herself that she desperately tries to change because she thinks they aren’t good enough for the world. She’s moody, inconsistent, always wanting to run around the world and be anywhere but home. And I love it.”

“Mack can certainly be a little complex.” Lexi acknowledges as the three of them chuckle at David’s description of her.

“I hear you, but not to me. I see her. I know her. I hear her. I heard her when she ran in January. And I heard her when she came back to me too. That doesn’t scare me. I know she needs to go sometimes. She needs to be free to feel and grow and come to terms with what she probably already knows.  I’m never gonna cage her in. She will always know freedom and space while also having a home with me.” Lexi rolls her lips together, pursing them as her eyes fill with tears.

Nico brings his clasped hands to his lips, pressing into them until they turn white from the pressure. David swallows hard. How is this going? Is it going good? He can’t fucking read them. 

“I hope that what you’ve seen of me in this last four weeks has you believing my words and intentions with her. I want Mack to be my wife. I want to come home, take care of her, love her and support her. I want to have dreams and goals with her that we make come true in our own way- a mix of my grit and her creativity. So…” He trials off, reaching into the inner pocket of his sweatpants where he zipped the ring earlier. He pulls it out between his thumb and pointer finger. “With your blessing, I would really like to marry your daughter.” 

“Wow.” Lexi practically hiccups. She looks over at Nico who nods with his eyes closed. “Yeah.” Lexi brings her hands up to her eyes. She wipes her fingers under them then reaches for the ring. “Can I?” 

“Of course.” David hands it over to her. Lexi holds it delicately in her fingers, turning it every which way as the light collects in the diamonds.

“I don’t think… we ever really saw this for Mack.” Lexi acknowledges. 

“Yeah.” Nico clears his throat. “Mack just… never wanted to be in love. I think she was that way when you first met her too.” David nods. 

“Spicy when she doesn’t like how things make her feel.”

“Mhm.” Nico nods. He scratches at his forehead, then continues. “As a parent, all you want is for your kids to be happy. We were happy if Mack was happy. When Mack came home this winter, she was not happy. She was miserable. And even in those tough moments in the cabin with her, she loved you. She loved you enough to try to decide for you that you deserved better.” David shakes his head, smiling as he does it.

“Crazy.” 

“Yeah, well you’re the one signing up for a lifetime left of that.” 

“Can’t wait.” David beams. Nico chuckles.

“I believe that. Lex and I were talking the other night how good you are at loving her. It’s been a long time since we have seen Mack so comfortable in who she is and her roller coaster. She fights it a lot. She doesn’t like the parts of her that are out of control. But those parts aren’t so scary for her when she’s with you. She embraces them, lets them show and then pass because she’s safe with you. We can’t thank you enough for that. For loving her so completely that she doesn’t want to run anymore.” Lexi hands the ring over to Nico. He looks it over for a moment, then holds it in the air towards David. “She’s going to love that.”

“Yeah, she is.” David agrees.

“I know we don’t know your parents and truthfully, Lexi and I are sad about that as I’m sure you are too. But they would be very proud of the man you have become.” David stills, feeling tightness grip his throat. “They raised a strong, caring, empathetic person who works his ass off for the people he loves. Mack is lucky to be one of those people.” 

“Thanks.” David clears his throat. “That means a lot coming from you.” 

“You’re our kid now.” Lexi nods her head along with Nico. “And we love you.” 

“Big time.” Nico acknowledges. 

The three of them stand. Hugs are shared all around, then David dismisses himself to join Mack for bed. They have an early morning tomorrow. As David climbs back up the stairs, he sneaks a look over his shoulder at Nico and Lexi hugging each other. He grins as he walks down the hall.

David is finally going to get his family after all.

Read more Mack and David here.

[seekingskywhales]

Bonk bonk give me your stuff

[thetorturedchairman]

it’s only 8am and I just had a crying session

[youreverydayfangirl]

DELICATE

pairing: max verstappen x singer reader

summary: the one where she has reservations, everything's a bit fragile for her and hes persistent

warning: self doubt

a/n: THREE UPDATES????

face claim: sabrina carpenter

f1 masterlist

main masterilst

series masterlist

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y/nsprivate accepted the follow request

y/nsprivate has requested to follow

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y/nsprivate has posted

liked by jimmyandsassysdad, thatoneartgirlalex and 20 others

y/nsprivate still looking for my flynn

thatoneartgirlalex YUMMMYYYYYYYYYY

-> y/nsprivate i was legit drooling over you

keekslikestospammmm HAWWT

-> y/nsprivate STOP I MISS YOU

livbereallydumb hey so can u give a girl a warning first 😍

-> y/nsprivate me anytime i see you

itssabrinaaa u free rn 😏

-> y/nsprivate waiting for you

jimmyandsassysdad look no further

-> leosfather HES GOT GAME

-> thatoneartgirlalex 😱😱 y/nsprivate

-> keekslikestospammmm 😱😱 y/nsprivate

-> livbereallydumb 😱😱 y/nsprivate

-> itssabrinaaa 😱😱 y/nsprivate

-> y/nsprivate 🤭 how about that second date???

-> leosfather HE SHOOTS HE SCORES

f1gossip

iked by exbsf and 126, 098 others

f1gossip some snapshots of your fav f1 couples at Charles Leclercs halloween party last night!!

Tagged: charlesleclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, estebanocon, flavybarla, pierregasly, francisca.cgomes

user1 exbsf in the likes??

-> user2 all she does is try and insert herself into WAG activities tbh

-> user3 right! she did the same thing when lando was still with you know who

user4 alex and charles in the third pic omg

user5 anyone else find it weird that a lot of the grid was invited but lando wasn't

user6 is that y/n y/ln in the last slide

-> user7 IS THAT MAX VERSTAPPEN

-> user8 OMGG????

-> user9 delusional as shit

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

It had been a couple weeks since y/n last saw Max, but the memory of the night was still fresh in her mind. Since then she had spoken to Max over text a handful of times. When the Charles' halloween party came around, she wasn’t entirely surprised to find herself standing beside him, his broad figure decked out in a Top Gun flight suit that looked almost too good on him.

He gave her an appraising look, clearly amused. "So, Rapunzel, huh? Looks like you were ready to let down your hair," he said with a grin, glancing at the long, braided wig she’d chosen for the night.

She laughed, giving a mock curtsy. "Only for special occasions," she teased.

As they mingled through the crowded party, he leaned down, an amused glint in his eyes. "So… does this count as our first date?" he asked, his tone light but a little hopeful.

Y/n smiled, feeling her cheeks heat up as she glanced sideways at him. "Depends," she replied. "Are you going to sweep me off my feet like a real first date?"

Max chuckled, taking her hand with a confidence that made her pulse quicken. "Guess I’ll have to step up my game, then," he said, pulling her closer into the crowd of people dancing.

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y/nsprivate some cute flicks

jimmyandsassysdad GIZMO MENTIONED

-> y/nsprivate HE ALREADY MISSES THEM 😭

thatoneartgirlalex CUTE CUTE CUTE

-> y/nsprivate YOUR CUTE

livbereallydumb wonder who bought those flowers 🤔

-> itssabrinaaa 'just a friend'

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

It was a quiet Sunday night, and the city’s noise was muffled by the gentle sound of rain tapping against the windows. Y/n curled up on the couch next to Max, feeling the warmth of his arm around her as they watched bones together in comfortable silence. His cats, Jimmy and Sassy, had claimed their spots on the other side of the couch, while her own cat, Gizmo, was nestled comfortably in her lap. It was a picture of peaceful simplicity, the kind of evening she never wanted to end.

Max reached for the remote, lowering the volume during a quiet part of the movie. She glanced up, and he looked down at her, eyes soft, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all night. Her heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his gaze.

“Y/n, can I ask you something?” he said quietly, his voice a bit more serious than usual.

“Of course,” she replied, straightening up slightly, her hand absentmindedly scratching Gizmo’s ears.

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words. “I just… I need to know, Y/n, what are we?”

Her heart sank, the warmth she’d felt just moments before now turning to panic. She hadn’t been ready for this, not yet. The future, a label, something real, she knew that was what he deserved, but she didn’t know if she could be the one to give it to him. The words choked in her throat, refusing to form.

“Max, I…” she stammered, eyes darting away. Her fingers instinctively went to pet Gizmo, as if somehow grounding herself to reality, but it wasn’t working. The room felt too small, the air too thick. “I don’t… I don’t know if I can give you an answer right now.”

His face softened, though she could see the hurt flicker in his eyes. “I understand if you’re scared. I just want to know if I’m someone you want to try with. I’ll wait, Y/n. But I need to know if there’s something to wait for.”

The vulnerability in his voice shattered her, and she could feel the words bubbling up, desperate to explain herself. But the more she tried to force them out, the more trapped she felt. She swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears welling up, and before she even fully understood what she was doing, she stood up, gently displacing Gizmo from her lap.

“Y/n?” Max’s voice was laced with concern, but she couldn’t look at him. The room was spinning, and she felt like she was drowning.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible. “I just… I need to go.”

She grabbed her things, barely managing to gather Gizmo in her arms before heading to the door. She could feel Max’s gaze on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn around. Not when she felt so raw, so exposed.

The last thing she heard before she closed the door behind her was the quiet, broken way he’d called her name. And it stayed with her the entire way home, echoing in her mind as she fought the urge to turn back, knowing she wasn’t ready to face the fear or the love that waited for her on the other side of it.

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

Y/n sighed, her eyes lingering on the messages Max had sent her. She replayed his words in her mind, but the part that made her heart race—the moment he’d asked, “What are we?”—had also made her freeze. She didn’t quite understand her reaction, why that question had shaken her so deeply.

It wasn’t that Max had done anything wrong. He’d been everything she could hope for—patient, caring, thoughtful. She knew she felt something real for him, that he’d somehow slipped past every wall she’d built since her breakup with Lando. But beneath that realization, a dark feeling had crept over her, like ink spreading across a page. She was scared. No, she was terrified.

After everything she’d been through, the idea of letting someone in again felt overwhelming. She’d barely managed to piece herself back together after Lando, and she knew that if things fell apart with Max, she might not have the strength to do it again. With Max, she’d fallen fast and hard, in a way that felt both thrilling and dangerous. And how could she not? He was almost too good to be true. Yet, she couldn’t shake the voice in the back of her mind whispering that trust like this came with a cost.

Her relationship with Lando had taught her so much. They’d loved each other, but they’d been unwilling to bend in the ways that mattered. There were too many conflicts, too many moments of stubborn silence. She knew, deep down, that they were never meant to be.

But with Max, it was different. He saw beauty in parts of her that Lando had once found flaws. The qualities she had found exhausting in Lando felt effortless in Max. He was everything.

Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to fall completely, because if she did, Y/n didn’t believe anyone would be there to catch her.

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

Y/n had barely slept the night before, her mind stuck on the way Max had looked at her when he asked, “What are we?” She’d messaged him, asking to meet up, but now, waiting for him here, her stomach twisted with nerves. When she saw him walking toward her, hands tucked in his pockets, that gentle smile on his face, her heart clenched. How was it that he could make her feel both safe and completely vulnerable at the same time?

“Hey,” he greeted, his smile fading a little as he studied her face. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, though the words tangled in her throat, refusing to come out. Max, sensing her hesitation, took a step closer, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and patience.

“Y/n, talk to me,” he murmured, his voice a soft anchor.

“I… I don’t know why I panicked,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “When you asked what we were.” She saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes and felt guilt wash over her. “It’s not you, Max. You’ve been everything I could want.”

He looked down, nodding slowly as he absorbed her words. “But something’s keeping you from trusting this,” he said gently, sadness tracing his voice.

She exhaled shakily, looking away. “After everything with Lando, I just… I’m terrified, Max. The thought of letting myself fall again, of opening up like that—it scares me. If something went wrong… I don’t think I’d be able to put myself back together.”

He was quiet, letting her words sink in. Then he reached for her hand, his thumb brushing softly over her knuckles. “Y/n,” he said, his voice steady and calm. “I know you’re scared. And I understand that trust isn’t easy when you’ve been hurt before. But I’m not him. I’m here now, and I want us—whatever that looks like for you.”

He tilted her chin up, his eyes meeting hers with a fierce sincerity. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with the emotions she’d kept buried. “You deserve someone who’s not this… scared.”

Max shook his head, his expression unwavering. “I want you, Y/n—all of it. The good, the bad, the parts you’re afraid to show. I know I’m asking for a lot, but please, let me in.” His gaze softened, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We can take it as slow as you need. I’m here for that.”

Y/n felt a weight lift from her chest as she looked into his eyes, realizing that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to carry the fear alone. She didn’t have to be fully healed to let herself love him.

With a small, tentative smile, she squeezed his hand back. “Thank you, Max. For being so patient with me.”

A look of relief and warmth spread across his face. “You’re worth the wait, Y/n.”

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

a wayyyy more wordy one for you guys

thank you for all the love on this you guys omgg

also i thought id do a couple now cause halloween is coming up and im gonna be bussyyyy

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

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[helen-with-an-a]

Halloween - Beautiful Girl series (18+)

Hiiiii - how is this the 2nd full length fic for Beautiful Girl? Anyways in honour of Halloween, here’s a (not-so-)little smutty fic for yall. Shout out to the anon who gave me the inspiration - I loved writing this. If anyone has any more ideas, please let me know.

Alexia Putellas x reader

Description: It's Halloween and Alexia forces herself to watch a scary movie with R, regardless of what R says.

Word Count: 9k

TW: Smut, 18+, cock warming, a nightmare

Beautiful Girl masterlist

Maybe watching a scary movie wasn’t the best idea after all. Or maybe, just maybe, it was exactly what you needed. You weren’t so sure anymore. On one hand, you couldn’t deny that it pained you a little to see Alexia so scared, her usual confidence crumbling with every jump scare and every gruesome scene. But on the other hand, the way she reacted to the horror unfolding on the screen had you completely captivated. As the movie progressed, she had inched closer and closer to you – an impressive feat considering she started the movie with her head on your chest, your wrapped around each other. Her arms tightened around your waist each time something startled her – her grip being almost painful. The way she clung to you, seeking comfort and protection, stirred something deep within you.

Her scent was intoxicating; soft, warm coconut that filled your senses and made it hard to focus on anything else. You found yourself torn between wanting to reassure her and the thrill of having her so close. Every time the tension in the movie built, you could feel her body tense up against yours, her breath hitching in anticipation. And when the inevitable jump scare happened, she would let out a quiet whimper, the sound soft and vulnerable, before burying her face into your neck, seeking refuge from the terror on the screen. Her eyes would screw tightly shut, and you could feel her eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

It was impossible to think about anything else. All you could focus on was the warmth of her body pressed against yours, the way her soft hair tickled your cheek, and the rhythm of her breaths as she tried to steady herself. You wanted to be her protector, to make her feel safe, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but enjoy the way she needed you in that moment. Maybe watching a scary movie wasn’t the best idea, but with Alexia so close, it was hard to think of a better one.

“Are you sure, beautiful? We don’t have to watch horror just because it’s Halloween,” you said, your voice laced with concern as you studied her expression. “There are plenty of spooky movies, or even just kid ones that we could put on instead,” you suggested, offering a safer alternative as you looked into her eyes. Despite the dim lighting in the room, you could see the determination in her gaze as she pressed the remote into your hand, a small smile playing on her lips.

“I am sure, mi amor,” she replied, her voice dripping with confidence, but you couldn’t help noticing the slight quiver in her tone that betrayed her nerves. You hesitated, unsure whether to trust her bravado. You knew Alexia well enough to know that horror movies were far from her favourite. In fact, she usually avoided them like the plague, preferring the comfort of romantic comedies or feel-good dramas. Horror had never been her thing, and you respected that. You never wanted to put her in a situation that would make her uncomfortable, especially when it came to something as trivial as a movie.

But there she was, insisting on watching one tonight. Halloween had its traditions, and perhaps she felt a certain pressure to partake in the spooky festivities. You, on the other hand, didn’t mind horror. It wasn’t your go-to genre by any means, but you could enjoy a good scare when the mood struck. Still, the thought of subjecting Alexia to something that might genuinely frighten her made you pause.

“Ale,” you began softly, trying to gauge her true feelings. “I know you don’t usually like horror movies. We really don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable. Halloween or not, I’m happy to watch whatever you want.”

She shook her head, her smile widening as she leaned in closer to you. “No, I want to try it,” she said, her voice steadying as if convincing herself as much as she was you. Her eyes sparkled with a blend of excitement and uncertainty, a rare combination that made your heart flutter. “Besides,” she added, her lips curving into a teasing smile, “you’ll protect me, right?”

The way she looked at you in that moment, a mixture of vulnerability and trust, made your heart soften instantly. How could you ever say no to her? “Of course I will, my beautiful girl,” you murmured, your voice filled with affection. The promise felt as natural as breathing, a vow to keep her safe, even from the imaginary horrors that would soon flicker across the screen. You’d face a hundred nightmares if it meant she felt secure in your arms.

With a playful glint in her eye, she gently pushed your shoulders back, guiding you to recline against the cushions. The next thing you knew, she was climbing on top of you, settling herself comfortably against your chest. Her head found its usual resting spot over your heart, the rhythmic beat beneath her ear soothing her racing one.

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close, the warmth of her body pressed against yours grounding you in the moment. She let out a contented sigh, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your chest as she nestled in deeper, as if the very act of being so close to you was enough to chase away any lingering fears. You could feel her breath steadying, matching the calm rhythm of yours, and you knew that no matter what happened in the movie, she’d be safe and sound right here with you.

“See?” she whispered, her voice muffled slightly against your chest, “Already feeling braver.” Her words were laced with a gentle teasing, but there was also a sincerity behind them that touched you deeply. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, your lips brushing against her hair, breathing in that familiar coconut scent that always made you feel at home.

“Good,” you whispered back, your voice barely above a murmur, “because I’ve got you, always.” She responded with a soft hum, a sound that was full of contentment and trust, vibrating gently against your chest. It was a sound that told you everything you needed to know, that in this moment, she felt safe with you, that she believed in your promise.

You let the silence linger for a moment, enjoying the closeness, the way her body moulded perfectly against yours. But as your hand hovered over the remote, a flicker of concern resurfaced in your mind. You couldn’t shake the urge to double-check, to make absolutely certain she was okay with what was coming next.

“You’re sure?” you asked gently, your thumb poised over the play button, ready but hesitant. You wanted her to have an out, a chance to change her mind before the movie started. You were more than willing to switch to something else, something that wouldn’t leave her on edge or make her uncomfortable.

“Sí, mi amor,” she replied, her voice steady and full of resolve, yet still carrying that softness that you loved so much. “I am sure.” Her words were firm, but there was also a warmth in them, a reassurance that she was ready.

You were barely 10 minutes into the movie when you felt her shift on top of you, her body tensing as the ominous music swelled on the screen. The shadows and flickering lights of the film created a sense of unease that even you, with your higher tolerance for horror, could feel creeping into the room. But it was Alexia’s reaction that caught your attention more than anything else. Without a word, she moved closer, almost instinctively, pressing her face into the curve of your neck, seeking comfort in your warmth.

Her breath was shaky, the soft exhale brushing against your skin as she tried to steady herself, but you could tell the movie was starting to get to her. The way her fingers gripped your arm just a little tighter, the way her body seemed to curl into yours for protection – it all signalled that the horror on screen was pushing her limits. Your heart ached at the thought of her enduring something that made her this uncomfortable, even if she was doing it out of sheer determination.

“Ale, baby,” you began softly, your voice gentle as you tilted your head slightly to speak into her hair. “We don’t have to watch this.” You were ready to reach for the remote, ready to switch to something light and fun, something that would bring back the ease and laughter you loved sharing with her. But before you could move, she tightened her hold on you, her head still nestled firmly against your neck.

“No, no, I am fine, mi amor,” she insisted, her voice a bit muffled but still carrying that stubborn edge you had come to know so well. There was a hint of resolve in her words, a determination to prove to herself – and maybe to you – that she could handle this. But the tremor in her voice didn’t escape your notice, and you couldn’t help but worry that she was pushing herself too far.

“Ale –” you murmured again, this time with a little more concern, hoping to persuade her to take a step back, to remember that there was no need to be a hero tonight. You wanted her to enjoy this, not endure it, and the last thing you wanted was for her to suffer through something she didn’t have to.

But before you could say more, she cut you off, her tone light but firm. “Shush, I am watching the film,” she said, her words almost playful, though you could hear the underlying tension. Her stubbornness was both endearing and exasperating, and you couldn’t help but let out a small sigh, half in amusement, half in resignation.

You knew when Alexia set her mind to something, it was nearly impossible to sway her. It was one of the things you loved about her – her fierce determination and strong will – but right now, all you wanted was to pull her out of this self-imposed challenge and back into the safety of something she enjoyed. But as you felt her burrow deeper into your embrace, you realised that maybe, just maybe, this was her way of facing her fears, and she wanted to do it while feeling the reassurance of your presence.

So, you sighed softly, letting your concern ebb away just a little, though you remained vigilant, ready to call it quits the moment she gave you any real sign that it was too much. You tightened your arms around her, pulling her just a little closer, as if to shield her from whatever horror the screen might throw at her next. If she wanted to face this challenge, you’d be right there with her, her protector in every sense of the word.

You were about 20 minutes from the end of the film, and the tension in the room was nearly unbearable. Each passing minute seemed to heighten the anxiety, not just on the screen but in the very air around you. You could feel it in the way Alexia clung to you, her body pressed so tightly against yours that it was as if she was trying to merge into you, seeking refuge from the horrors unfolding before her eyes. The soft tremors in her body had grown more pronounced, her every breath a shaky struggle to maintain control.

It wasn’t just the way she held onto you that gave her away; it was the way her breath hitched, the way her chest stuttered with each sharp inhale. You could sense the tears welling up, threatening to spill over, and it broke your heart to see her like this. She was trying so hard to keep it together, to convince herself – and you – that she was fine, but it was clear that she was on the verge of breaking down.

“Baby, please,” you urged softly, your voice filled with concern as you turned your attention away from the screen and fully focused on her. “Let’s just turn it off. C’mon, you’re terrified.” You reached for the remote, ready to end this ordeal and bring her some relief. You couldn’t stand the thought of her enduring this any longer, especially when there was no need for it.

But before you could press the button, she shook her head, her voice trembling as she tried to brush off your concerns. “N-no, I’m not,” she insisted, though the quiver in her tone betrayed her. “Everything is fine, mi amor. Just watch your film.” There was a desperate edge to her words, as if she was trying to convince herself more than you.

Your heart twisted at her stubbornness, knowing full well that she was anything but fine. Her pride and determination were admirable, but they were also keeping her trapped in a situation that was clearly too much for her to handle. You wanted to respect her wishes, but you couldn’t ignore the signs – the way her body trembled, the way she seemed to shrink into herself with every new jump scare, every disturbing scene.

“Ale,” you began again, your voice firmer this time as you tried to reason with her. “There’s no point in torturing y – ”

“I am fine, mi amor.” She snapped before you could finish, her words sharp and defensive, cutting through the air between you. Her tone was laced with a mix of frustration and desperation, as if she was clinging to the last shreds of her resolve. She pulled away from you just enough to look up, her eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears, her expression one of fierce determination. But beneath that determination, you could see the fear, the anxiety that was eating away at her composure.

Her response left you momentarily stunned, and you could see the conflict in her eyes. She wanted so badly to be strong for you, to prove that she could handle this, but it was clear that she was reaching her breaking point. You knew her well enough to understand that this wasn’t just about the movie anymore – it was about her pride, about not wanting to seem weak or vulnerable in front of you.

But you didn’t care about any of that. All you cared about was her well-being, and you couldn’t stand the thought of her suffering through this just to prove something that didn’t need proving.

You softened your gaze, your expression full of understanding and compassion. Gently, you reached out and cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes. “Ale, you don’t have to do this,” you said softly, your voice filled with tenderness. “I don’t care about the movie – I care about you. There’s nothing to prove here, beautiful. I’d much rather stop this and see you smile than watch you force yourself through something that’s hurting you.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just looked at you with those wide, tear-filled eyes. The tension between you seemed to hang in the air, thick and heavy, until finally, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She let out a shaky breath, her stubborn resolve crumbling as she leaned back into you, her head resting against your chest once more.

“I just… I didn’t want to ruin it for you,” she whispered, her voice small and full of the vulnerability she had been trying so hard to hide.

You held her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, your heart aching for her. “You could never ruin anything for me, Ale,” you assured her, your voice gentle but firm. “Your comfort and happiness mean more to me than any movie ever could. Let’s turn this off and do something that makes you feel good, okay?”

She nodded against you, her grip on your shirt loosening slightly as she allowed herself to relax, to let go of the pressure she had been putting on herself. With a relieved sigh, you grabbed the remote and finally turned off the movie, the silence that followed almost immediately easing the tension in the room.

“Can… can we have a shower and just go to bed?” Her voice was small, almost fragile, as she lifted her head from your chest, her eyes still glistening with the remnants of tears. The earlier determination had given way to exhaustion, and all she wanted now was the comfort of something familiar, something soothing to wash away the tension that had built up throughout the evening. Her request was simple, but the vulnerability in her tone made it feel like so much more – a plea for comfort, for reassurance, for the safety that only you could provide.

“Of course we can,” you responded immediately, your voice tender as you brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. You wanted to make sure she felt completely at ease, so you added gently, “Do you want me to shower with you, just be in the room, or do you want to be alone?” You didn’t want to assume anything, knowing that right now, she needed to feel in control, to have things go exactly the way she wanted.

But before you could even finish asking, she was already nodding, her eyes earnest and pleading as she whispered, “Together.” The word came out almost like a sigh of relief, and you could see how much she needed your presence, how much she craved the closeness and the comfort that only your touch could bring.

“Okay, together it is,” you said softly, giving her a reassuring smile. You rose from the couch, helping her to her feet, and you couldn’t help but notice how drained she seemed, the tension of the evening still lingering in the way she moved. As you guided her towards the bathroom, you asked another gentle question, knowing how much she loved your care in these moments. “Hair wash or not?”

She looked up at you, her eyes softening as she considered the offer. The thought of your hands in her hair, massaging away the stress of the night, clearly appealed to her. “Wash, por favor?” she replied, her voice quiet but hopeful. There was something so endearing in the way she asked, as if she knew how much you loved pampering her and was giving you the opportunity to do just that.

“Anything for you,” you murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. The simple act of caring for her, of helping her wash away the remnants of the night’s fears, filled you with a sense of purpose and love.

Together, you made your way to the bathroom, the anticipation of the warm, soothing shower already beginning to calm the both of you. As the water started to stream from the showerhead, you helped her out of her clothes, your touch gentle and loving, careful to make her feel cherished. She stepped into the shower first, the warm water cascading over her, and you followed close behind, wrapping your arms around her from behind as the steam enveloped you both.

She let out a small, content sigh as the water washed over her, and you could feel some of the tension start to melt away from her body. You reached for the shampoo, lathering it in your hands before gently massaging it into her hair, your fingers working through the strands with care. She leaned back into you, her eyes closed as she allowed herself to fully relax, the sensation of your hands in her hair bringing her the comfort she had been craving.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the sound of the water. But you heard her, and the gratitude in her tone made your heart swell.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” you replied, your voice just as soft. “I love taking care of you.”

You continued to wash her hair with slow, gentle movements, making sure to ease out every last bit of tension. It wasn’t just about the physical act of washing away the stress; it was about being there for her, supporting her, and reminding her that she was never alone, no matter what.

Once her hair was thoroughly rinsed, you turned her gently in your arms so she could face you. The steam curled around you both, creating a little cocoon of warmth and intimacy. You reached up to brush a few droplets of water from her cheeks, your touch tender as you looked into her eyes.

“Feel better?” you asked softly, your voice filled with love and concern.

She nodded, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. “Much better,” she whispered, her eyes shining with appreciation. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you replied, leaning in to kiss her, a slow, lingering kiss that spoke of all the love and care you felt for her. The warmth of the shower, the closeness of your bodies, and the gentle exchange of affection all combined to create a moment of pure peace, a sanctuary from the fears that had haunted the night.

When the shower was finally over, you helped her dry off and wrapped her in a soft towel, taking extra care to ensure she felt warm and secure. You could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her body seemed to lean into yours for support, and you knew it was time to get her to bed.

You led her to the bedroom, helping her into a clean, comfortable pyjama top. She sank into the bed with a sigh of relief, her body finally able to fully relax. You slipped in beside her, pulling the covers over you both as you wrapped her in your arms once more.

As she nestled against your chest, her head resting in her favourite spot, you could feel the last of the tension slip away, replaced by a deep, contented calm. The horrors of the movie, the fear and anxiety – it all faded into the background, leaving only the warmth of your shared closeness.

“Goodnight, my beautiful girl,” you whispered, pressing a final kiss to her forehead as she drifted off to sleep.

“Buenas noches, mi amor,” she murmured back, her voice already drowsy, filled with the comfort and security she felt in your arms. And as you lay there, holding her close, you knew that this – this simple, intimate moment – was all that really mattered.

It was 5 a.m. when you awoke, the quiet stillness of the night broken only by the soft rustling of the sheets. The room was dark, with only the faintest sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the bed. At first, you were disoriented, unsure of what had pulled you from sleep. But then you felt it – the way the mattress shifted beside you, the way the blankets tugged slightly as if caught in a struggle.

You turned your head, your heart quickening as you realised it was Alexia. She was lying next to you, but something was wrong. Her body was twitching, her limbs jerking in restless, erratic movements that seemed almost out of her control. It was as if she were trying to escape something, her legs kicking out and her hands grasping at the sheets, searching for something to hold on to.

Your concern deepened as you heard her soft whimpers, barely audible but full of distress. “Por favor, no,” she murmured, her voice trembling with fear. The words were slurred, muffled by sleep, but the desperation in them was unmistakable. “Para, por favor,” she pleaded, her breath hitching as if she were trying to catch it between sobs that hadn’t yet escaped. “No me hagas… No puedo…”

Your heart broke at the sound of her voice, so full of helplessness and fear. It was clear she was caught in the grip of a nightmare, reliving something that was causing her immense pain. You reached out, your hand hovering just above her, unsure whether to wake her or not. You wanted to pull her out of whatever dark place her mind had taken her, to reassure her that she was safe, but you also knew that waking someone from a nightmare could sometimes be disorienting, even frightening.

“Mi amor,” she whimpered again, her voice cracking as if she were on the verge of tears. “Ayudar…” The last word was a desperate plea for help, and you could feel your own heart ache in response. There was no more hesitation – you couldn’t let her suffer through this alone, not when you were right there beside her.

Gently, you placed your hand on her shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze as you called her name. “Ale,” you whispered, your voice calm and soothing, trying to bring her back to the present, back to you. “Beautiful, wake up. It’s just a dream. I’m here, you’re safe.”

At first, she didn’t respond, her body still caught in the throes of the nightmare, her breathing fast and shallow. You squeezed her shoulder a little more firmly, your thumb brushing against her skin in a comforting gesture. “Ale, it’s okay. I’ve got you. Wake up, baby.”

Slowly, her movements began to still, the jerking of her limbs easing as your voice started to reach her. Her eyes fluttered open, but they were wide and unfocused, as if she were still caught between the nightmare and reality. She blinked rapidly, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she tried to orient herself.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you murmured, sliding your hand down to gently cup her cheek, guiding her gaze to meet yours. “It was just a bad dream. You’re safe now. I’m right here.”

She looked at you, her eyes slowly beginning to clear as she registered your words, your presence. A shuddering breath escaped her as the realisation hit, and she let out a soft sob, her body collapsing against yours as if all the strength had drained out of her. You wrapped your arms around her immediately, pulling her close, cradling her trembling form against your chest.

“It’s okay, Ale,” you whispered, your voice full of reassurance as you stroked her back, trying to soothe the fear that still lingered in her. “You’re safe. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She buried her face in your chest, her hands clutching at your shirt as if afraid to let go. You could feel the wetness of her tears soaking through the fabric, and it only made you hold her tighter, as if your embrace could shield her from whatever horrors had haunted her sleep.

“Lo siento,” she choked out, her voice muffled and raw with emotion. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Don’t apologise,” you replied gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just glad I was here to wake you up.”

For a while, the two of you simply lay there, her body gradually relaxing in your arms as the terror of the nightmare faded. You continued to whisper soothing words, your hands moving in slow, comforting circles on her back, until her breathing finally steadied, the tension in her muscles releasing as she melted into you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly, knowing that sometimes sharing the fear could help it lose its power.

She shook her head slightly, her voice still trembling as she replied, “No… I just want to forget it.”

She looked up at you with those big, hazel eyes, the ones that had a way of speaking directly to your heart, conveying emotions that words could never fully capture. In those eyes, you saw a mixture of vulnerability and longing, a silent plea that reached out to you with an intensity that made your breath catch.  They told you everything you needed to know.

“Please, mi amor,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of a tender desperation that tugged at your heartstrings. Her lips were slightly parted, still a little swollen from the way she had been biting them in her sleep, the remnants of fear lingering in the way they trembled ever so slightly. Her cheeks were flushed, a soft, rosy hue that had nothing to do with the nightmare that had shaken her awake and everything to do with the way she was looking at you now – with a mixture of need and trust, a desire to be comforted and held, to be taken away from the remnants of the dark dream that still clung to her.

“Make me forget it?” she asked, her voice barely more than a breath, yet filled with a yearning. It wasn’t just the nightmare she wanted to forget; it was the vulnerability it had exposed, the fear that had left her feeling raw and exposed.

You could feel your heart swell with a protective tenderness as you gazed down at her, taking in the sight of her beautiful face framed by the tousled strands of hair that had escaped during her restless sleep. Her cheeks, flushed with a soft pink, were warm under your touch as you gently cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs tracing light, soothing circles against her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, leaning into your touch, seeking the solace she knew only you could provide.

“How, my beautiful girl? What do you need from me?” you asked, your voice a soft murmur as you gazed down at her. The warmth in your tone was matched by the tenderness in your eyes, a look that was full of love and patience. You wanted to give her everything she needed, to be exactly what she was asking for, but you needed her to tell you, to be open about her desires. It was something you had been working on together, trying to get her to express herself more freely, to not be afraid of telling you what she truly wanted.

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking away from yours as if searching for the right words. You could see the conflict in her expression, the way she bit her lip in thought, her cheeks flushing slightly with a mix of shyness and anticipation. The sight was endearing, and it only made you more determined to coax her into speaking her mind, to assure her that there was nothing she couldn’t ask of you.

“You,” she finally whispered, her voice quiet but filled with a longing that resonated deep within you. “I just need you.”

Your heart swelled at her words, the simplicity of them carrying so much weight, so much emotion. It wasn’t just about physical desire; it was about the connection between you, the way she trusted you, needed you in a way that went beyond mere words. But even though you were more than willing to give her everything she wanted, you knew this was an important moment for her to take that extra step, to be specific about what she truly craved.

“And you have me,” you vowed, your voice steady and full of reassurance as you reached out to take her hand. You held it tightly, giving her a gentle squeeze, a silent promise that you were there, that you would always be there for her. But you knew she needed to go further, to put into words the desires that she had kept hidden, the ones that she was still learning to voice. “But I need specifics, beautiful. I need you to tell me exactly what you want.”

She hesitated again, her fingers tightening around yours as she gathered the courage to speak. You could see the internal battle she was waging, the way her mind was working to overcome the last remnants of hesitation, the lingering fear of being too forward, too demanding. But you waited patiently, giving her the space she needed, knowing that this moment was crucial for her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds, she looked up at you, her hazel eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. There was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze, something raw and unfiltered, and it made your heart race in anticipation of what she was about to say.

“Your cock,” she said eventually, her voice barely above a whisper, but the words carried a weight that made them impossible to ignore. “I want to sit on your cock.”

The directness of her words sent a jolt of desire through you, but more than that, you felt a surge of pride and affection. She had said it – she had opened up to you, voiced her desire without holding back, and that was a victory in itself. You could see the blush spreading across her cheeks, her eyes searching yours for a reaction, for reassurance that she hadn’t overstepped, that she hadn’t done something wrong.

You gave her hand another squeeze, your thumb brushing gently over her knuckles as you leaned in closer, your voice low and full of promise. “And you will,” you murmured, your gaze locking with hers, letting her see the desire, the love, the unwavering commitment in your eyes. “I’m going to give you exactly what you want, my beautiful girl. I’m going to take care of you.”

Her breath hitched slightly, her lips parting in anticipation as she realised you meant every word. You could feel the tension between you, the electricity that sparked in the air as you brought your free hand to her cheek, cupping it gently as you leaned in to kiss her. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brushing of lips that quickly deepened as she responded, her body pressing closer to yours as if seeking the warmth and comfort only you could provide.

You could feel the heat building between you, the way her body instinctively moved closer, seeking out your touch, craving the connection you shared. But you didn’t rush, didn’t push her – this was about her, about giving her the time and space to fully embrace her desires, to feel comfortable in expressing them.

When you finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes half-lidded with desire as she looked up at you, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss. You could see the anticipation in her gaze, the way she was waiting for you to make the next move, to take the lead in this dance of intimacy.

“Go get the strap for me,” you said, your voice steady and filled with a mix of authority and encouragement. And choose either the purple one or the dark red one – they should be in the top drawer. When you’ve picked it, take off your knickers and leave them in the basket, then come back.” Your instructions were clear, but they were also laced with an invitation, a chance for her to make a choice that would tailor the experience to her preference.

She nodded, her eyes meeting yours with a mixture of eagerness and curiosity. There was a certain glint in her gaze, a spark of excitement that indicated she was ready to embrace what was coming next. You watched as she moved with a purposeful grace, her steps filled with a quiet determination.

As she approached the drawer, her fingers traced along the smooth surface before she pulled it open. The top drawer was organised with precision, and there they were – the two dildos you had mentioned, each one carefully arranged. The purple one was vibrant and rich, its hue deep and alluring, while the dark red was more subdued but equally enticing, its colour reminiscent of a deep, passionate embrace.

She took a moment to consider her options, her fingers hovering over the straps as she made her decision. It was a small but significant choice, one that would add a personal touch to the experience you were about to share. The act of choosing held its own weight, a way for her to assert her preferences, to have a say in how the moment would unfold. The purple one was bigger – she would definitely feel the painful sting more in the morning. But the red one was curved slightly – the angle pressing against all the right spots.

After a few moments, she selected the strap that resonated most with her in that moment. Purple – she would need the reminder in the morning. Her choice was deliberate, and as she held it in her hands, you could see the satisfaction in her expression, a sense of anticipation for what was to come. She hurried to slip off her underwear, throwing them in the wash before she turned back to you, the strap in hand, her gaze confident and ready.

With a gentle, encouraging smile, you extended your hand toward her, taking the strap from her with a sense of reverence. “Mi hermosa niña perfecta, listening so well,” you murmured, your voice soft but filled with admiration. You took the strap carefully, admiring the way it felt in your hands, the texture and weight of it, and how it would fit into her just so.

It took a few moments, but eventually, you were settled back against the pillows, the room bathed in a soft, ambient light that cast gentle shadows across the bed. The black harness was securely wrapped around your waist, its sturdy material hugging your body comfortably, creating a sense of anticipation and readiness. The straps of the harness had been adjusted with care, ensuring a snug yet comfortable fit that allowed you to move freely, without any distraction from the sensation of the harness itself.

The purple dildo, now firmly attached to the harness, hung to one side, its vibrant colour contrasting with the dark fabric of the harness. It swayed slightly with your movements, the smooth, polished surface catching the dim light in a way that made it look almost ethereal.

“Come here,” you whispered, your voice a low, inviting rumble that seemed to resonate through the soft, dimly lit room. The ambiance was intimate and charged, the light casting gentle, warm hues that danced across the bed and accentuated the tenderness of the moment.

As you spoke, she moved to straddle you with a mixture of eagerness and nervous anticipation. Her hands reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing against the cool surface of the plastic. Her movements were fluid, a testament to how much she wanted … needed … this

You gently interjected; your tone soft but firm. “Not yet.” The words were a tender reminder, a way to guide her without diminishing the intensity of the moment. “Don’t think I didn’t notice it’s the bigger one, beautiful.” You added, a teasing note in your voice that hinted at both admiration and playfulness. Your eyes locked with hers, your gaze steady and full of affection.

The playful tease was meant to break any lingering tension, to remind her that this was a shared experience, one filled with mutual desire and understanding. Her reaction was immediate, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink as a shy smile played at the corners of her lips. The warmth of her blush was a contrast to the coolness of the plastic, adding an extra layer of intimacy to the moment.

“Just sit on my lap, yeh?” you continued, your voice gentle and reassuring. “I want to kiss you for a bit.” Your words were an invitation, a way to create a space where you could both indulge in the closeness and affection that had brought you together.

As you spoke, you could see the effect your words had on her. The initial shyness in her expression gave way to a more open, trusting look, her eyes reflecting both her anticipation and her desire to be close to you. The promise of a kiss, combined with the gentle teasing, had a way of making her blush even more furiously, her entire demeanour radiating both excitement and tenderness.

You readjusted yourself comfortably against the pillows, your posture open and inviting, as you guided her to sit on your lap. The arrangement was intimate, placing her in a position where she could feel your heartbeat, where every breath she took would be felt against your chest. As she complied, her body pressed close to yours, you took a moment to savour the closeness, to feel the warmth and softness of her against you.

With a tender touch, you cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing gently against her cheeks. The contact was intimate and reassuring, a way to show her how much you cherished these moments of connection. “My beautiful girl,” you sighed softly, smiling at the way her chest puffed up just a little.

You leaned in slowly, each movement deliberate and filled with intention. Your lips found hers in a kiss that was both soft and lingering, a gentle exploration that spoke of the deep affection and desire that had been simmering between you. The kiss began with a tender touch, a feather-light brush that seemed to hover for a moment before deepening.

As your lips connected, you could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with yours, the sweet, intimate sensation of her closeness. The kiss was more than just a physical act; it was a silent conversation, a way to express the emotions that words could barely capture. It was slow and deliberate, a careful dance of lips and breath that conveyed the depth of your feelings.

She responded eagerly, her lips moving against yours with a sense of urgency that matched the intensity of the moment. Her passion was palpable, and it only served to heighten the connection you shared. Her tongue slipped into your mouth with a bold, enthusiastic push, its warmth and softness adding a new layer to the kiss. The sensation was electric, a jolt of pure, unfiltered desire that sent a thrill through both of you.

The kiss deepened as she explored your mouth with a growing intensity, her tongue brushing against yours in a way that was both playful and possessive. The connection between you was tangible, each touch and movement an expression of the desire that had been building. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself responding with equal fervour, your hands sliding up to cradle her face as you matched her kiss for kiss.

The rhythm of the kiss became a symphony of sensation, a blend of soft caresses and passionate embraces. The initial tenderness gave way to a more urgent, fervent exploration, as if both of you were trying to savour every moment, to make the kiss last as long as possible. Your breaths came in shared gasps, the air between you thick with the heat of your desire.

In the midst of the kiss, you could feel the rhythm of her heart against your chest, the way her body pressed closer, seeking out the intimacy and connection that only this shared moment could provide. The kiss was a bridge between your souls, a way to communicate the depth of your feelings without the need for words.

As you continued to kiss, the world outside seemed to dissolve into insignificance, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and passion. The external noise and distractions faded into a distant hum, barely registering against the backdrop of your shared intimacy. It was as if time had slowed down, allowing you both to savour each moment of the kiss without interruption or concern.

Kissing Alexia was, without a doubt, one of your favourite activities. Each kiss was a revelation, a tender exploration of the deep connection that existed between you. The way she tasted was intoxicating, a delicate blend of sweetness and warmth that lingered on your lips long after the kiss had ended. Her unique flavour was a subtle reminder of her essence, a taste of the intimacy you shared.

The way she sighed happily against you was equally enchanting. Her contented murmurs were a testament to the pleasure she was experiencing, the soft sounds of her satisfaction resonating through your shared embrace. Each sigh was like a gentle caress, a sign that she was fully immersed in the moment, enjoying every second of the closeness and affection.

The warmth of her body was another cherished aspect of your kisses. As she pressed against you, you could feel the heat radiating from her, a comforting sensation that made you feel incredibly connected and alive. Her body seemed to mould perfectly against yours, creating a harmonious blend of warmth and tenderness that was both soothing and exhilarating.

In those moments, everything else ceased to matter. The kiss was a world unto itself, a space where you could both be completely present, free from the worries and pressures of everyday life. The connection between you was palpable, a silent communication of love and desire that transcended words.

When you finally pulled back, it was with a reluctant but satisfied sigh, the kiss having fulfilled its promise of deep connection and mutual desire. You looked into her eyes, which were still filled with the same fervent emotion, the same longing that had driven the kiss. Your lips were tingling from the intensity, and the taste of her lingered, a sweet reminder of the passion you had just shared.

“Por favor, mi amor,” Alexia begged, her voice trembling with a mixture of desire and desperation. “Can I sit on your cock now?” The words came out as a soft, pleading whine, tinged with a hint of impatience. Her tone was both sweet and needy, a clear indication of how deeply she wanted to move forward.

You chuckled softly, the sound a low, intimate rumble that vibrated with affection and amusement. The tender laughter was a response to the intensity of her request, a way to acknowledge her eagerness while enjoying the moment. Your fingers moved with a practiced grace, sliding gently down her body to trace a delicate path through her folds.

As your fingers made contact, you could immediately feel the wetness that had gathered there. She was soaked, her arousal evident in the slick, heated sensation against your touch. It was a reminder of how responsive she was to your kisses, how a simple moment of intimacy could leave her dripping with desire. With Alexia, this was always the case – more than a minute of kissing and she would be positively drenched, her body reacting eagerly to the feel of your lips on hers.

“You’re soaked, beautiful,” you murmured, your voice low and filled with admiration. “Is this all for me?” you asked, your words imbued with a mixture of awe and affection.

“Sí, sí. Todo para ti, sólo para ti,” she replied breathlessly, her voice a soft, trembling whisper. Her response was fervent, her eyes shimmering with both longing and vulnerability. As she spoke, her blonde hair tumbled forward, cascading around her face like a curtain. The golden strands fell gently in front of you, effectively blocking out the outside world and creating an intimate cocoon where only the two of you existed.

“Well, I am honored, baby,” you said with a sincere smile. Your words were a tender acknowledgment of her eagerness, a way to express just how much her readiness meant to you. Her reaction was immediate; she sighed happily, a soft, content sound that resonated with the warmth of your words.

“Be a good girl for me, Ale,” you continued gently, your tone both commanding and tender. “Sit on my cock. Go carefully.” The instructions were clear but spoken with a careful consideration, a reminder of your attentiveness to her needs and desires. “I know you want to feel the stretch,” you added, a hint of understanding in your voice. “But I don’t want you hurting yourself.” The concern in your words was genuine, reflecting your deep care for her well-being and your desire to ensure that her experience was both pleasurable and safe.

Alexia was always amazed at how well you seemed to know her. The way you could often anticipate her desires before she fully articulated them was a constant source of wonder for her. Your understanding of her needs, coupled with your ability to express those needs with such precision, made her feel deeply connected to you. It was as though you had an intuitive grasp of her wants and boundaries, an ability to make every moment together feel profoundly satisfying.

Reaching down, she carefully lined herself up, slowly inching her way onto the dildo. It burned in the best way – the subtle pain and waves of pleasure easing Alexia’s mind in a way that only this could bring. When she was with you, she was weightless – all of her needs were taken care of, she didn’t need to think or do, she could just be … just be Ale, your beautiful girl.

She felt your thumb descend softly onto her clit; the touch delicate yet deliberate. The sensation of your skin brushing against her sensitive flesh was electric, sending a shiver through her body. You began to rub in slow, purposeful circles, each motion carefully calibrated to enhance her pleasure without overwhelming her. The rhythmic pressure of your thumb against her clit caused her breath to hitch sharply as she bottomed out.

The way you touched her was a tender mixture of affection and desire, a gentle exploration that was as much about connection as it was about physical pleasure. The slow circles you traced were hypnotic, creating a soothing yet stimulating rhythm that made her body respond with increasing eagerness. Her breath came in soft, uneven gasps, each hitch a testament to the growing pleasure coursing through her.

“You’re so pretty, Ale,” you murmured softly, your voice filled with admiration and warmth. The compliment was a loving acknowledgment of her beauty and the way she responded to your touch. Your words were a balm to her heightened emotions, a way to make her feel cherished and adored in this intimate moment.

“And you listened so well,” you continued, the praise flowing naturally from your lips. Your words were not just about her physical response but also about her attentiveness to your desires and instructions. It was a recognition of how well she had followed your lead, how perfectly she had aligned with the intimate dance you were sharing.

“Such a beautiful girl for me,” you added, the final touch of your praise imbued with deep affection.

Alexia sighed deeply, the sound a mixture of contentment and relief as she leaned forward to rest her face against your neck. The warmth of her breath and the softness of her skin felt incredibly comforting, a tangible reminder of the closeness you shared. Her body relaxed against yours, the fear from her nightmare long gone.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet gesture, your heart swelling with affection. Gently, you pressed a tender kiss to the side of her head, your lips brushing softly against her hair.

With one hand, you held her waist steadily, you fingers splayed and grip firmer to keep her grounded. With the other, you let your fingers trail delicately under the edge of her top, the touch light and exploratory. The sensation of your fingertips against her skin was soothing, creating a gentle, comforting rhythm that matched the intimate atmosphere. You traced soft patterns across her back and sides, each movement purposeful and filled with affection. Your touch was a tactile expression of your love, a way to convey the depth of your feelings without words.

Occasionally, your fingers spelled out small, loving messages against her skin. You wrote your name and hers in flowing cursive, a private reminder of the personal connection you shared. The letters were delicate, each one a testament to your appreciation for her and the uniqueness of your relationship.

In addition to names, you inscribed the words "I love you" in various languages you knew, each phrase a reflection of the global nature of your affection. From the simple “I love you” in English to the tender “Te amo” in Spanish, and “Je t’aime” in French, you created a mosaic of expressions that spanned cultures and languages. Each phrase was written with care, the letters forming a silent but powerful testament to the breadth and depth of your emotions.

The tactile sensations, combined with the loving words, created a moment of profound connection. Alexia’s contented sighs and relaxed demeanour were a testament to the comfort and love she felt in your presence. The physical touch, the affectionate words, and the gentle exploration all combined to form a rich tapestry of intimacy that made the moment feel incredibly special and deeply meaningful.

As you continued to trace patterns and write loving messages on her skin, the room seemed to grow even quieter, the outside world fading into the background. It was just the two of you, sharing a moment of pure, unspoken connection that spoke volumes about the depth of your feelings for each other. Each touch and word was a celebration of your bond, a way to make Alexia feel cherished and adored in the most intimate and heartfelt way.

“Close your eyes, my beautiful girl. I’ll be here for you in the morning.” You whispered, letting your words wash over Alexia as she slowly slipped back into sleep’s embrace.

“T’estimo,” she mumbled.

“I love you,” you replied.

[shit-talker]

The 141 have a ridiculous run of inside jokes that is continuosly ruining their lives, such as;

1.) If someone says, "You love it really," to you, you immediately have to agree with them, no matter what the circumstances. Otherwise, you lose the ability to do it back. This has resulted in many weird fake confessions, including one time in which Soap got fed up with people making your mom jokes at him and went on a rant about it. Ghost glanced at him in front of a room full of cadets and just went, "You love it really, though," and Soap almost died as he sadly nodded and replied, "Yeah, I do."

2.) If something even remotely sexual sounding is said about you, you must always say, "You're damn right I do/am/will," back. This backfired once when they were in a defreif and Price said something about Gaz "coming through the back door" and Gaz, without think, winked and replied "You're damn right I did," In front of everyone and got in trouble for mild insubordination. (The others almost died laughing as he realised what he'd done, who he'd done it to, and who he'd done it in front of (aka Price's bosses))

3.) When talking about Roach, they will always act like he's died. He hasn't, but none of them can stop the joke, and it always makes all of them crack up, even Roach. This once caused major panic, as once when Ghost was discussing their latest mission with Laswell, he said, "It was fine because Roach - God rest his soul -" and Laswell had about two minutes where she thinks Roach has dropped dead and she didn't fucking know.

4.) They will always make up bad stories for how they met Ghost, if anyone ever asks. It doesn't matter what the truth is, or who they're speaking to, when asked, all three of them will reply with some made up, overly dramatic or down right boring story on how they met. These stories ranged from Ghost, saving them from a shark attack (Gaz), Ghost selling them assorted drugs as a teenager (Roach), and most devastatingly is when Soap told a distant relative of his that he met Ghost after "finding him with my older brother, behind his wifes back" he does not have an older brother, and so there is no wife.

5.) They always reference the "Malibu incident." None of them have ever been to Malibu. Nothing bad has ever happened there, but now they've created a whole conspiracy in the British Army about a coverup that happened in Malibu. Price knows about this one and finds it endlessly funny, so he goes along with it, never directly mentioning it but refusing to deny it when someone asks. If anyone ever asks about the details of it, they just give a deadpanned look as if the other person should already know and say; "Don't make me say it." There are rumours. Like, a lot of rumours.

6.) Roach claps every time someone says, "I'll be there for you" because once he clapped at the wrong time during the friends intro and had been paying the price ever since. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes you'll just hear him clapping - not even in the tune to the friends theme. Just random clapping. If any of the others hear it, they almost always reply with "That's a fuckin' joke" in a really disappointed tone. It's confused a lot of people.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 1- Chance Encounter

Accelerating Emotions (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- The Y/L/N moved to Melbourne. Oscar made a new friend. He got into karting and racing but his friend's sister still makes it difficult to breath sometimes. He had thought he would be over her by now, seems like he was wrong.

The reader has 2 brothers who I'm naming Ansel and Aldric and the reader is Y/N

The Y/L/N family moved to Melbourne, Australia in 2003 with their 2 kids, Y/N and Ansel, in search for a better future and a place to raise their kids. The sub-burbs of Melbourne served as a calm and healthy environment for the 2 kids with the addition of their youngest Aldric only 2 years later. The 3 kids were a handful but the Y/L/N wouldn't have it any other way.

Ansel, their oldest boy used to cry a lot when he would have to go to pre-school and the teachers would have to call his parents since it was getting difficult to manage the little boy until he met a boy who loved cars as much as he did. The calls from pre-school stopped suddenly alerting the parents who ended up finding out that Ansel had befriended a boy named Oscar and they were attached to the hip. The two boys started having play dates together at Oscar's place since Ansel's parents were too busy to host the boys and Oscar's mum, Nicole didn't mind having another kid around once in a while. Ansel would talk animatedly when describing his day which he never did before, eliciting a smile from his parents. Oscar loved his friend as well.

Ansel was 4 when he insisted on having Oscar over to show his car collection which had slowly been fluctuating and from what Mrs Y/L/N gathered from Mrs Piastri, the 2 boys had been exchanging cars with each other. So, one beautiful summer morning, Oscar was walking behind Ansel to his house with Mrs Y/L/N behind them with her year old son, Aldric in arms. The boys ended up playing around in the backyard after lunch and wouldn't come in until Oscar heard a shrill voice scream at Ansel to come in and have some fruits. The voice belonged to Ansel's older sister. She walked back in, "hmph, I hate her, she's so annoying" Ansel told Oscar. "It's a good thing your sisters are smaller than you, she only screams at me" Ansel whined as they walked inside.

Oscar was asked to sit on the sofa while Y/N brought out 2 fruit plates for the both of them. She handed the plate to Oscar and raised her hand forwards, "My name is Y/N" she said. Oscar shook her hand; "My name is Oscar" he said. "You're cute, not like my annoying brothers" she said while sticking her tongue out to her brother and ruffling Oscar's hair. Oscar hated when people touched his hair, "Don't touch my hair" he called out. "Sorry" she giggled while running away.

Oscar didn't know then but he knew now that he had the biggest crush on her. Y/N became a huge part of his life since his friendship with Ansel blossomed. His mother would invite both of Ansel's siblings to parties and soon enough just to hang out. Oscar liked hanging out with Y/N more than his sisters. She was cooler and older and they got to do whatever they wanted if his mom thought Y/N was watching over them. So, Oscar would initially invite her over so they could get away with whatever they wanted and he won't have to look over his sisters. Oscar's little sisters loved Y/N too since they had someone to play dolls and tea party and dress up with. Oscar, Ansel and Aldric were a team and Y/N and Oscar's little sisters were a team. You would find the 7 children playing in the backyard of the Piastri's or Y/L/N on evenings after school.

Oscar had started karting quite young and the 6 kids would be his biggest cheerleaders, their cheers could be heard whenever Oscar crossed the finish line whether he finished first or last. Oscar would shoot a smile at them whenever he would get out of his kart.

You could hear the 3 boys racing their remote control cars in the backyard. If anyone asked Oscar how he got so good at remote car racing; he would always site his friend and say that he helped him get better. Ansel would help Oscar in karting too; you would find the two boys tinkering and bickering about strategies. Oscar would also tell people that his friend helped him in karting but really Oscar had a talent for it and his friend enjoyed tinkering with the kart with Oscar's dad, making sure everything was in order and ready for Oscar to race. Oscar knew his friend wouldn't get into racing but he would probably make it to the world of racing since he loved cars and loved watching Oscar win with the kart he helped 'fix'.

As Oscar grew older, he realised that he had a bit of a crush on his friend's older sister. He would find himself looking for her whenever he visited their house or looking for her when his friend visited. It would always dampen his mood when he couldn't find her. But nothing dampened his mood like the time he found Y/N kissing a boy in her room back when he was 12. She was 13, Oscar didn't know she got herself a boyfriend, he didn't know that a boy over either. So, what a surprise, when he opened the door and saw her kissing a boy, I mean kissing as far as 13 year olds know how to. Oscar slammed the door shut and shouted an apology while running away. He spent the next few days thinking about the weird feeling he had when he saw that. And a few google searches later; he had a crush ON HIS BEST FRIEND'S SISTER. Oh, he was fucked. He saw her often enough that it might make it awkward. But Oscar was an actor; a trait he didn't know he possessed or so he thought.

Oscar's karting career was taking off; having had started to race professionally and even starting to finish on podiums at the end of championships. Ansel would be there to support his friend as often as he could. Oscar was thankful for everyone coming.

Sometimes, Oscar would come home to find Y/N with his mum helping her around the house. His sisters loved Y/N and would always prefer her over him; honestly he would also prefer her, he thought as he saw her cut up fruits for the kids. "Why are you always handing me fruit whenever I see you?" Oscar asked. "Because, you're small and this will help you as you grow older" she replied. "I'm not small, I'm 13" Oscar huffed. "Well, I'm 14 and I'm older than you. So, that means you'll always be younger than me" she snickered. "Now eat your fruits, kid" she commanded and left. Oscar hated this, he hated that she saw him as a kid.

Oscar should've learnt from his past mistakes but he never learns and caught Y/N with her next boyfriend and this time in a rather compromising position. Y/N didn't learn from her previous mistakes either, she should've locked the door. She knew that; Oscar and his sisters were over. She knew yet she was reckless but in her defence, she hadn't seen her boyfriend in a few days and the both of them were hormonal teenager and it slipped her mind. Now, she was sat on her boyfriend who was lying down with her top and bra off. Oscar wasn't sure if he wanted that imagine erased from his memory or imprinted since she got to see Y/N topless. As he quickly closed the door and ran down; he heard shuffling behind the door and a disheveled Y/N running after him and cornered him near the end of the stair case. Oscar had had a growth spurt, so he stood taller then Y/N. She had both her hands on either side of him; "Don't you dare tell anyone what you saw or I'll make sure you can never get a girlfriend" she threatened. She already made it difficult to get a girlfriend, Oscar thought, the threat was already a reality. Oscar just nodded. "Didn't realise you'd grown taller" she hummed as she let Oscar go while acting out, 'I'm watching you' with her two fingers and walked back up.

Oscar left for the UK when he knew his karting career was picking up and he wanted to be a professional Formula One driver. Nicole cried a lot. But the 6 other kids helped her cope with Oscar's absence. Oscar sighed a sigh of relief; maybe he would finally get over his childish crush. He even got himself a girlfriend eventually. He would barely visit his family due to school and the karting schedule and then eventually single seat racing schedule. He was getting better; he was getting quite good and winning championships and graduating to the next class to racing each year. He even made new friends. But Ansel was still his best friend and no amount of distance was about to change that for him.

Whenever Oscar visited he didn't really get to see Y/N even though he might have wished he did, but he would never admit it, not even to himself. It became an even rarer occurrence after Y/N started university and had moved from Melbourne. The next 4 years; the pair would always miss each other whenever they would visit. Though he would hear about Y/N's adventures from his mother or sisters. Y/N would hear a lot about Oscar from Oscar's or her own family. Both of them would hear about each other's achievements. To Y/N, Oscar was just the tiny child her brother befriended and now she had more siblings to look after. To Oscar, she was his first crush.

Y/N moved back to Melbourne for work; she got a teaching license after completing her Bachelors in Education in English. Currently, she was working as a pre-school teacher. She loved children and this was a great way to help the leaders and the future of tomorrow. Oscar had heard his mum say something about Y/N moving back but he didn't remember; he was in the middle of a break up with his long term girlfriend and the possible signing with a Formula One team fiasco. He had flown in to Australia soon after and spent time with his family. He was excited yet scared when he got signed to McLaren, who were replacing one Australian with another. A part of Oscar hoped to run into Y/N but apparently she was busy with school since it was her first year at the job.

"Mate, what's wrong? Why do you keep looking around?" Ansel asked sounding rather annoyed at Oscar who wasn't paying attention to the game in front of them. "Our teams gonna lose the match at this rate" Ansel almost screamed. "Sorry....it's nothing" Oscar quickly replied. "No one's home. Y/N's house hunting, Aldric's out with his friends and mum and dad are out on a date. We won't be disturbed" Ansel muttered as he passed the ball to Oscar in FIFA. "Oh, okay" Oscar muttered getting back to the game not before he heard his friend sigh but didn't ask why. After the match, the two boys were sat munching on some chips, "Is Y/N moving out?" Oscar asked tentatively. "Oh yeah, she's been trying to get a decent place for a while but teacher's pay is shit; so it's taking her some time" Ansel said. "That means she won't be over often?" Oscar asked quietly. "Probably, but both our moms need her too much, they missed her so much while she was in college. It wasn't funny. Thank God she moved back because it was getting quite annoying. She's always doing stuff around both of our homes or with them anyways. So, she should still be over. Plus she takes your sister to her extracurriculars since Nicole's busy lately." Ansel added. "Oh" is all that left Oscar's mouth.

Oscar sadly returned to the UK before he got to meet Y/N. He hadn't seen her since she moved for university except in pictures his mum would send. But he had a bigger fish to fry; his new life as a Formula One driver from next year onwards.

2023 started with a lot of training on Oscar's part to prepare himself for the year. His first 2 races left much to be desired by Oscar. His third race was in his home. His family and Ansel's family had come to support him through out the weekend except Y/N. On Sunday, Oscar was chatting with Lando when everyone came. That's when he saw her. She looked as beautiful as ever; he wasn't sure if she had made his breath stop like she did just now as he watched her laugh along with his sisters. She turned around and as their eyes met, she shot him a smile; walking towards him. Fuck, he thought, he couldn't feel his tongue in his mouth or how to form words anymore, honestly.

[theoldsports]

married.

Coriolanus Snow x reader | 5.5k words

alcohol makes consent messy, substance abuse, manipulation, arranged marriage, public humiliation, two-way abusive relationship <3

Coriolanus may well replace Lupin as my favorite guy to write for. he’s fucked up. i can’t fix him, but i could certainly make him worse.

As quietly as possible, [Y/N] closed the door to Coriolanus’s lavish new apartment behind her. She didn’t particularly want him to know that she had left the apartment in the first place. There were always too many questions.

[Y/N] had recently moved in with Coriolanus since their engagement. Her parents had arranged their marriage with his grandmother, affectionately called the Grandma’am not long before she passed. Coriolanus was about the most desirable bachelor in the Capitol. Not only was he an excessively handsome twenty-three year old, but he was also growing increasingly wealthy and had recently received his first assignment as a Gamemaker working on creating a new arena structure for the Hunger Games. Everyone who was anyone in polite society knew of Coriolanus Snow.

And [Y/N] hated him with everything she had. She had to see his defiant smirk in school every day for years since they were twelve or so. She hid from him every chance she got at home. [Y/N] slept in another room away from him. The only advantage of their marriage were the politics and name recognition for the both of them.

“I didn’t realize you were going out.” Coriolanus said flatly, snapping [Y/N] from her thoughts. She hadn’t even realized he had been in the apartment’s common area. He was sitting calmly in an putrid-looking armchair, alarmingly still.

[Y/N] gasped and clutched her chest in surprise. “Is there a problem with my leaving?” She said quickly.

“No problem.”

[Y/N] looked at him curiously. “Okay.” She said and moved passed him to her bedroom.

After a moment of pause, Coriolanus appeared in her doorway. He leaned against her doorframe with a hand in his pocket. “Where were you, by the way?” He asked plainly.

“I don’t see how that’s your business.”

“It was beginning to get late. Our engagement party’s in two hours. I cannot very well attend an engagement event without my fiancée. So. Where were you?”

“Dry cleaner’s.”

Coriolanus let out a scoff. [Y/N] could see him get hot under the collar. “You expect me to believe you were—Where’s the laundry?” Coriolanus questioned.

[Y/N] reached into her coat pocket for the stub of her laundry receipt. “Dropping off, not picking up. You’re on Lucky Flickerman’s next week. Dropping off my dress ahead of time. Anything left you would like to accuse me of?” [Y/N] sighed, leaned against her desk chair.

“Do not speak to me like that,” Coriolanus begun, sighing. It was obvious that he felt undue humiliation from her response. “It’s childish and unbecoming.”

“So is your being a hypocrite.” [Y/N] snapped back instantly.

The pair fought daily. Never had Snow laid a hand on her, but it wouldn’t be surprising if he did one day. [Y/N] didn’t recall any particular fights he had been involved in at the Academy, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.

“Stop acting like a child!” Coriolanus repeated. “Are we not allowed one remotely pleasant moment together? You know I don’t want this just as much as you, but here we are. Can’t we be civil?”

“I am capable of civility, yes. You, on the other hand…”

“You’re disgusting. You don’t know how to listen. It blows me away. I asked you a simple question that a married couple should ask the other when one is gone. Now you’re screaming at me like a little girl. Grow up.”

“Grow up? You wanna talk about childish; you’re selfish, demanding, and cold. I’m scared to death of you. You make me feel like a toy, not a person, Coriolanus. I was always pretty fucking certain children had toys, not grownups.”

“Good gracious… Fine! Be that way. Cause a fucking scene!” Coriolanus screamed. His temper flared. He got that look in his eye that only men can get when they lose something they wanted. “My coat and tie are black. I’m assuming you’re not intending to clash or something, so just letting you know. Y’know. Communication. The polite thing to do.” He reported and stormed out of her room to his own. Her door slammed so hard behind him that she feared in may splinter off its hinges. What must the neighbors think of them?

[Y/N] resisted the urge to shout for Coriolanus to drop dead.

She was left to ready herself alone. As she pulled out her dress (that wouldn’t look foul against Coriolanus’s coat and tie) from the closet, she caught a glimpse of the engagement ring on her finger. White gold with a moderately sized ruby set in the middle. She was told both the gold and the stone were real, but she had her doubts to some extent. She found it was difficult to believe anything Coriolanus said. The ring made it clear that Coriolanus didn’t truly know [Y/N] because she had always worn silver jewelry. She felt isolated from all her prior jewelry pieces as now, none of them matched.

Then, [Y/N] stepped into her dress. A flowing black ballgown with a full petticoat and a glittery exterior over the fine satin it was made from. She couldn’t quite complete the buttons running up the dress’s back. She sat down at a small vanity Coriolanus had purchased her to do her hair and makeup. She assumed he would be hard pressed by the fact she couldn’t button the back of her own ballgown; that she was incapable or needy.

After dragging kohl and shadows over her eyelids, among other things, she set out to find the correct pair of shoes to match the dress.

The problem with dressing to match Coriolanus is that he was excessively tall. This meant every dress had to be accompanied by the tallest heels one could find. [Y/N]’s ankles ached just thinking about a night in shoes like that again. With her makeup done and her dress unbuttoned down the back, [Y/N] set out to find the red heels Coriolanus had purchased for her. She sat unceremoniously on the floor with her large skirt fluffed out around her to dig in her closet for the shoes.

Coriolanus was fastening his white gold and ruby cufflinks that matched [Y/N]’s engagement ring when he knocked at her door.

“Yes, what?” She shouted from the floor.

Coriolanus pulled the door open without asking if she was decent. “I was going to ask if you were ready, but I can see that you aren’t.” He sighed. Coriolanus never apologized after a fight, instead he tried to placate in whatever way possible. He was incapable of an apology, [Y/N] thought. Whether it was buying her something, taking her out, helping her find something she had lost, that’s what he would do to ease his own guilt. If he could feel guilt.

[Y/N] sighed as well. She was unwilling to engage in verbal sparring with him now. She lowered her head in a visual show of defeat. “I can’t find my other shoe,” She said weakly. “The red ones you got me.”

“The red heels?” He asked quietly. Coriolanus perceived she was not much in the mood for his attitude, and felt his residual anger cool off several degrees.

[Y/N] nodded hopelessly. She didn’t want to go to the engagement party. She didn’t want to be marrying Coriolanus under terms such as these. [Y/N] felt like property and everything hurt.

“Let me look,” Coriolanus said. What he meant to say was ‘I’m sorry for everything,’ but what he said was: “I’ll help you look. Don’t wrinkle your dress, alright?”

[Y/N] stood up awkwardly, holding the falling bodice of her dress up. She felt uncomfortable being so vulnerable in front of him like this. “Sorry, I couldn’t button the back.” She said. With her free hand, she reached around the back of the dress in an attempt to close it.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll get it. Turn,” Coriolanus commanded plainly. [Y/N] did as he said. He notched the buttons down her back with ease. “You should’ve called for help. I didn’t realize you were struggling.” He said. He patted her shoulder to signify he was done with the back of her dress. Coriolanus moved in front of her closet and bent down to find the missing left red shoe.

It was silent for a moment. “Of course you weren’t aware I was struggling.”

Coriolanus offered no reply. He understood what she meant.

“Aha!” He said after a few moments, holding up a matching set of shoes. Coriolanus placed them on the floor in front of her so she could step into them. He offered [Y/N] a hand for stability as she did so.

“Thank you,” she said. “Hey, Coriolanus?”

“Hm?”

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” he replied, standing up from the carpeted floor. “Are you?” Coriolanus’s blue eyes were piercingly inquisitive. Eyes that didn’t want to know you, but to consume you.

“Yes.”

“Really? Why?” Coriolanus asked. It didn’t feel rude or hot-tempered. It was merely a plain question. It made [Y/N] feel safe to answer, even though she remained guarded.

“I’m presenting myself as the soon-to-be wife of the most important thirty-under-thirty in the Capitol in an arranged marriage. And you hate me. You have hated me since we were children. My life is over, Coriolanus. This is for you and for my family’s honor, evidently. What do I have left?”

“You think I hate you?” Coriolanus asked, bending his neck to look at [Y/N]. “I don’t hate you.” [Y/N] wasn’t sure how truthful the statement was.

“Well, at least, you don’t like me.”

Curiously, Coriolanus placed a hand on her neck and dragged his thumb across [Y/N]’s jawline. “That’s such shit, [Y/N]. I didn’t realize you thought that of me. That you… Felt that way at all,” he started carefully. “Rather, and this sounds silly, I enjoy arguing with you. I sort of thought you did as well. You’re ruthless, I admire that,” He smirked and paused for a breath. “I do like you. Believe it, or not. I’ll just have to figure out a way to show you better,” Coriolanus’ hand slid from [Y/N]’s throat, down her side and back to eventually rest at her waist. She blinked up at him, surprised at the luxury of such unexpected contact from him. “Your life is not over. You wanna work, work. You want to not work, stay home. Please, allow me to do what I can for you. I can open doors. Whatever you want, name it. Things, opportunity,” [Y/N] nodded at the word ‘opportunity.’ “You’re meant to be my wife and I’m… really, I’m one of the best resources there is around here. Let me use that advantage. Had I known sooner, I wouldn’t have wasted all that time and money buying you things you hate.” He attempted a casual joke, holding her too close to him.

They were closer physically than they had ever been. Due to their proximity, [Y/N] had to rest her hands on Coriolanus’ chest as she stared up at him. She didn’t know what to say, so she nodded and straightened the red rose at his lapel. “You just might get yourself that unified front with me if you bring home your work…”

“You’re interested in Gamemaking? Since when?”

[Y/N] rolled her eyes. “We’re going to be late. We can speak about this later.”

“By all means.” Coriolanus leaned down awkwardly and kissed her. Maybe it was out of duty, maybe out of desire. Neither of them knew. They had shared the occasional peck on the lips for social reasons before, but this felt a bit different. It was charged somehow. A promise.

When they separated, [Y/N] stared at Coriolanus. He was all eyes - blue, blue, blue. He blinked at her. She blinked back. “Come on, we’ll be late to our own party.”

—

The whole ride to the event venue, Coriolanus had kept his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh. This was an unusual gesture. Normally, he didn’t chance touching her, even by accident. It was an unspoken agreement to keep their distance.

“I’m gonna be sick.” [Y/N] groaned into her palm as she exited the vehicle, led by Coriolanus toward the door of the event hall. The building had been destroyed when they were children in the war and had been recently restored to its former glory.

“Same thing as earlier, or did you decide I’m the worst person on earth?”

“Same as before. Haven’t decided about the second thing. My parents are going to be here too. You remember them?”

“Yes. I’ve met them… Twice, I believe—”

“Tread carefully.” [Y/N] said, offering no additional support.

Coriolanus nodded in solemn understanding. His eyebrows knitted together, knowing one more nasty, exhausting troublespot would be in his way tonight. He hated social gatherings as much as [Y/N]. With all the gentleness he could muster, Coriolanus took her hand. “Heading inside… Unified front?”

“If I must.” [Y/N] said.

With that, the night took off. Bright flashing cameras reflected off the black and white marble of the building, and applause rang off the large, cavernous walls. Everyone was shaking their hands, greeting and congratulating them, and stopping them for overly pictures at every turn. For a moment, [Y/N] truly believed that everything in her life was perfect, because everyone around her seemed to assume that it was. It made the pill of her future easier to swallow.

Coriolanus led her around the room with ease. He introduced her to many individuals whose names she would not remember tomorrow. She was beginning to develop a stunning routine of artifice with him as Coriolanus puppeted her around the room. Each interaction functioned with a greeting from Coriolanus to the stranger, he would remove his arm from [Y/N]’s waist and drag it down her arm into her hand in order for her to showcase her striking gown. Then he would say “isn’t my fiancée beautiful?” or “isn’t she just divine?” or “what a lucky man am I?” [Y/N] would chuckle and compliment him back with “my Coriolanus, ever the charmer!” or “isn’t he just divine?” or “what a lucky woman am I?” accordingly. They would smile sickeningly and pretend they were in love, he would lean in and kiss [Y/N] on the cheek, and she laugh warmly at his ‘spontaneity’ and place a hand on his chest, or straighten his tie.

After that, they would move on to greet the next poor sucker and repeat the process.

Eventually, [Y/N] dragged Coriolanus off to the side so she could relax her artificial grin. “Sorry, I need a moment. My face hurts. And that last man and his wife, was that his wife? They stunk. They smelled so foul it is unreal.”

Coriolanus smirked. “Those were my next door neighbors growing up. Vile. They’re very heavy morphling users, if you couldn’t tell with the glazed over look and twitchy eyebrow.” Coriolanus mocked.

[Y/N] laughed, hard. “Oh, you’re terrible!” She jeered. “Damn, what I wouldn’t give for morphling tonight…”

“Don’t tell me you’re a junkie, now.” Coriolanus pressed.

“Junkie is such a strong word…”

“Well, since I can’t get you high out of your mind at the moment, best I can offer is posca. I can grab you a glass and you can hide from the onslaught for a moment.” Coriolanus offered.

“Please. A particularly stiff glass if you can swing it. Or whiskey!” [Y/N] said. She watched Coriolanus turn to leave for the bar. [Y/N] tucked herself in a corner behind a noble Corinthian column for a moment of peace. A few people came and went that she greeted with that 1000-watt fake smile of hers, but she was mostly left unbothered. [Y/N] caught sight of a clock and realized Coriolanus had been gone for several minutes longer than he should have. She excused herself from talking to some old woman that claimed to be some distant great aunt or something of Coriolanus’ and set off to locate him and her posca.

Cutting through the crowd, [Y/N] spotted tall Coriolanus over most everyone’s heads, holding two glasses of posca, and speaking to her parents.

Fuck.

Her parents.

[Y/N] rushed sharply towards Coriolanus. She stopped short of approaching. She wanted to listen in for a moment to what they might be saying. [Y/N] knew her parents were of the socially treacherous sort. She turned her back to them and stood, pretending she didn’t know they were there.

“…Hasn’t given you too much trouble.” She heard her mother laugh.

Coriolanus laughed uncomfortably back. “Ha, not too much, no,” He said. “She’s quite fiery, for lack of a better word, though. Tough. She’s a tough woman.”

“You’re a strong young man, Coriolanus. I’m sure you’ll find a way to put her in her place. You can’t have her compromise your image and all that, you know. She can just be so destructive.” Her father said.

[Y/N] felt her heart sink. The positive interactions she had with Coriolanus were slipping out of her mind by the second in overhearing the conversation.

“Ah, yes sir,” Coriolanus said. “We’ve got a whole lifetime for—“

[Y/N] turned around and stomped over to Coriolanus. “There you are!” She said, returning that winning smile to her lips. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, dear,” [Y/N] the pet name coming from her mouth made her nauseous. She grasped Coriolanus’ arm firmly. “And you got me a drink? You really are a dear, aren’t you?” She smiled and turned to her parents. Coriolanus felt tense beside her; she could feel it in the muscles in his arm.

Both her mother and father embraced her lovingly. “Oh, [Y/N], you look beautiful as ever.” Her mother said.

“Thank you,” [Y/N] said flatly, not returning the compliment. “If you’ll excuse us, there was someone else I wanted Coriolanus to meet. We’ll be back around soon. Love you!” She muttered, pulling Coriolanus away from her parents.

“Give me that.” She said, as soon as they were out of earshot, taking the glass of posca from Coriolanus.

“They’re…” he started in reference to her parents.

“Dreadful. I know,” [Y/N] heart felt broken. She didn’t even have a chance with Coriolanus without their humiliating influence. She didn’t want to dive into rationalizing his overheard conversation. So she just morosely stared down at the floor.

“They’re cruel to you,” he remarked as [Y/N] drank. “They told me I should work on breaking your spirit.”

[Y/N] took a long drink from her glass. “Are you going to? Break my spirit, I mean.”

“Haven’t decided,” Coriolanus replied. “Is tonight terrible so far for you?”

“Absolutely and unendingly.”

“Shame, since it’s supposed to be for us,” Coriolanus frowned. “Here’s what we’ll do. Drink up and we’ll dance. You told me you liked to dance once. Still true?”

“Uh, yes. You remember that?” The truth was that Coriolanus forgot very little.

“Too much talking, not enough drinking.” He replied, reaching out to tip the stem of her posca glass up, forcing the drink towards her lips.

“You’re a dick.” [Y/N] snapped. Her voice echoed from the round glass at her mouth.

“Never heard that one before.” Coriolanus said sarcastically.

A total of five empty posca glasses were settled on a cocktail table between them after about forty-five minutes of chatter and drinking. Coriolanus seemed looser than before, but focused as ever. The third glass, and the last half of Coriolanus’ second, had sent [Y/N] over the edge into drunkness, however.

“Dance with me now?” [Y/N] slurred slightly.

Coriolanus held his hand out as an affirmative response. She took it and he led her towards the dance floor. “FYI, I’m going to lead. You’re falling apart.” He leaned in to whisper teasingly as they approached the shiny wooden floor.

“If you’re shit at this, I reserve the right to take over as lead.”

“You have zero faith in me,” Coriolanus said, grabbing her too firmly in a waltz hold. She placed her hand on his broad shoulder. “Don’t think, just follow. I’ve got you.” He said, staring at her. Blue, blue, blue eyes, completely unreadable. Coriolanus sloppily led her around the dance floor, keeping the spins to a minimum. Sober, he was probably a fairly decent dancer. [Y/N] was reflexively a fine dancer as well, but a bit sloppier than normal. The thing that was actually holding back her dancing abilities, were the damn red heels. Her feet ached and she didn’t think she would be able to keep up with much more than a waltz in them.

The next song began after only half the length she had expected from a waltz, [Y/N]. It was a brisk foxtrot; all reliant on footwork. As Coriolanus led her into the first sidestep, [Y/N] kicked off her heels without missing a step. She harshly kicked them aside, sliding them to the edge of the dance floor. [Y/N] found she felt tiny now in front of Coriolanus. His smirk doubled at the sight as well. “Better?”

“Much. How about you shrink six inches next time so I don’t have to grow six inches. Seems fair to me.”

Coriolanus laughed cordially. His laugh turned into a sigh when he noticed [Y/N]’s lack of reply. “Are you angry with me?” He was aware that she usually was angry with him, he was asking specifically she to the conversation with her parents.

“Yes, why?”

“Because you’re being extremely rude.” Coriolanus said sharply.

“And?”

“No reason, just making conversation.”

Coriolanus couldn’t figure out what [Y/N] was looking at over his shoulder, but he didn’t care enough to ask. “Wanna make it up to me?” [Y/N] asked. “Posca wasn’t enough.”

“I’ll consider it. The terms?” He replied, spinning her through a tempo change.

“I want to make my parents hurt. I don’t live under their roof anymore. She’s been staring at me since I took my shoes off. See? I’m embarrassing her. And you know how big you owe me.”

This gave Coriolanus pause. Really, he didn’t owe her anything worth a damn. She was as bad to him as he was to her. “Why?”

“You said you could grant me opportunity. Grant me the opportunity of making her feel a fool for making me marry you, Coriolanus. I’m drunk. This offer is only going to work right now.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Blowjob.”

“I have an idea,” Coriolanus said immediately. [Y/N] grinned. His job was having wicked, awful ideas, so it was nice when he delivered. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“By the end of tonight, you will,” Coriolanus grimaced. He rotated the pair of them on the dance floor so [Y/N]’s back was to them and he could keep eyes on her parents. “I’m going to touch you.” He whispered in her ear when the music shifted to something more akin to a rumba.

“What?”

In seconds, [Y/N] felt Coriolanus’ nose slide from where he had whispered in her ear and down her neck to above her pulse point. He planted one kiss to her throat. Coriolanus waited before kissing her again to make sure she didn’t throw him halfway across the event hall in rage first. After that, he felt he had the go-ahead to work more forcefully. Coriolanus sensually kissed hard up and down the right side of [Y/N]’s throat, while both of them tried to keep their fuzzy brains clear enough to keep dancing. He kept kissing and sucking at her neck until she let out a nice loud sound of pleasure. That was when he pulled away. He was happy to see a nice purple bruise starting to form on her exposed neck.

“How was that?” He asked dryly, trying to hold off a pending erection.

“You’re out of your mind. Do it again.”

“I’m pretty sure my boss is here, [Y/N]. That was… great, but unless there’s—“

“We got lectured our entire growing up at the Academy to make sure we were to be winners by any means necessary, Coriolanus. Push the envelope. It’s our night. We can do whatever we want. Let’s make it count, at least. With all these cameras here? You keep this up, and your face will be on every periodical in Panem.”

“Yeah, for terrible reasons!”

“Any press is good press and you know that. ‘TROUBLE IN THE ARENA?: GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE BREAKS DOWN AT PARTY,’” she said, showing a fictional headline example. “Below it, a nice picture of me crying and you dusting me off like a dutiful husband. Have your way with me and eventually I’ll snap and cry and accuse you of something you didn’t do, then you can ‘put me in place,’ so to speak. Control the fucking news cycle til everyone knows your name.”

[Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus had in fact agreed to gamble with his image when his hand slid down her back and grabbed her ass. His mouth ducked back into her neck as well, biting harder than [Y/N] expected. [Y/N] let out a painfully loud moan without meaning to.

“You want a show, let’s give ‘em a show.” He muttered against her skin. Coriolanus pulled his hips flush against his. The fabric of her ballgown being the only meaningful barrier between them. After a few moments, they had given up any chance at a rumba. Coriolanus stood over her, kissing her bruisingly hard anywhere we could reach.

“Coriolanus,” [Y/N] muttered. She gripped his shoulder tightly to steady herself. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Coriolanus took his hand out of the one that was clutching hers and slid it up to grab her face harshly between thumb and forefinger. “Can you shut up for a minute? I’ve let you run your mouth all day. It’s getting annoying,” He said, the mask of kindness slipping from his eyes. “You have had a complaint about everything. I put up with it, too. It’s getting… really,” Coriolanus’ hand gripped her ass harder over the ballgown. “Fucking annoying. You’re already making me do all this because I’m a dick. Stop being a brat. Please keep your mouth closed until I want it open, okay?”

He was holding her face so tightly that she couldn’t even nod. That’s when she saw the cameras start flashing, as Coriolanus gripped her by the face like a spoiled child and rubbed her ass in front of everyone she knew. “Yes.” She tried to mumble, but it came out squished.

“Great, then, we’re clear. Don’t think, just follow.” Coriolanus leaned forward and kissed her blazingly. That’s around the time [Y/N] could hear her mother in hysterics stomping to the bathroom. She sighed with relief, but also burned with humiliation. It felt like Coriolanus was practically trying to fuck her with her clothes on.

[Y/N] couldn’t believe this. This wasn’t brutally argumentative Snow, this wasn’t pseudo-gentle Snow. Who was this? What the fuck was he doing? Why did it feel good? [Y/N] felt a shiver tingle down her spine as he kissed her. Aggressively, she kissed back in an attempt at delivering that ruthlessness Coriolanus said he prized. He squashed that quickly and leaned her back, almost knocking her off her feet. She pulled back breathlessly.

[Y/N]’s eyes were darting around the room, watching everyone watching her. She was the show tonight. For the first time in her life, someone had made her the real center of attention that she always craved to me. Coriolanus granted her opportunity. It fucking worked. Her gaze shot back to Coriolanus, looking down at her possessively. He was mouthing something to her, but her intoxicated brain couldn’t signal her eyes to focus enough to piece together his words.

“What?” She whispered, leaning away from him.

More clearly this time, Coriolanus mouthed. “Hit. Me,” He leaned in close to her ear and whispered. “I told you. I’m leading; I have an idea.”

[Y/N] started to shake her head ‘no’ at her insane exhibitionist fiancé, but she remembered she was the one that had asked for a show. Without asking why, [Y/N] feigned disgust and stepped away from Coriolanus. She raised her hand and sharply slapped him across the face. This elicited gasps of shock from their guests. She could see a red mark beginning to develop on Coriolanus’ fair cheek.

Violence like this is what people in the Districts did. This was not what well-bred, promising youth from the Capitol did. The chatter in the room grew in the form of prying hushed whispers. The band stopped playing. This was not how beautiful young girls behaved at their engagement parties. [Y/N]’s stomach dropped. She looked angrily between her vile hand and the mark on Coriolanus’ face. Both of their expressions showed that she had hit him harder than they expected.

“How many men, [Y/N]?” Coriolanus asked, forcefully.

“What?” [Y/N] asked, shocked. She had no idea what he was talking about.

“How many men have had you behind my back?”

It was a fucking act. No truth to it at all. He wanted a rise out of her and so did the cameras. This was exactly what she had asked him, she didn’t realize how seriously he would take her.

[Y/N] sighed. She understood her role and she was going to play it perfectly. “One. Only one, I swear. None since you caught us in bed.” Lie. “Stop. We’re…” she glanced around, playing ashamed of the cameras. “We’re in public, Coriolanus. Please. Don’t cause a scene.” She said, parroting what he had said to her that morning.

That line did the trick. She saw the vein in his forehead pop out. “Don’t cause a scene? You struck me!” Coriolanus roared. “That’s unfair, and you know it.” The ghost of a smirk played on his lips while he clutched his face.

“You wouldn’t hear reason! The accusations you made of me, Coriolanus. You—You—“

Coriolanus surged forward and grabbed her by her forearms. “Accusations that are warranted. I don’t know how you expect me to trust you after something like that! Do you think I’m made of stone?”

“Yes!” [Y/N] yelled truthfully.

Coriolanus paused. “[Y/N], I hurt just as much as you do. You’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight,” He placated. “I just can’t stand to see how these men look at you like that, knowing you would trade me for them in a heartbeat.” He brought the tempo of their fight down with his false melancholy.

“Coriolanus…” [Y/N] said tentatively. “I wouldn’t… Not now. We’ve put that behind us. I-I’m yours and—“

“I made this whole night about you. I…” Coriolanus swallowed dramatically. “I love you.” Lie? “I love you, I spend all night trying to show you that I don’t want anyone but you. I try to make you feel special so you won’t stray again. And you, you hit me… I can’t do anything right enough for you.” He turned his face away, feigning hiding tears and released her arms.

Without the stabilizing touch of Coriolanus, [Y/N] was starting to feel uncertain on her feet from the alcohol. Far from gracefully, [Y/N] sank to the floor, her skirt fanning out around her as it had when she was searching for her shoe earlier that evening. From the drink, the tension and the state of her shambling life, [Y/N] let out an unexpected sob. Coriolanus turned his head in genuine surprise at the sound. “I’m sorry, my love,” she started through sniffles. “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” She looked up at him as her mascara began to drip down her cheeks. “Please forgive me. You have every right to leave, but please, Coriolanus, you’re all I have left.” That part was true. It was all gone. Her childhood home, the security of her parents, university and the Academy were behind her, taxing relationships with friends she had outgrown. Coriolanus was all that remained. [Y/N] cried harder. “I made a mistake.” She howled.

Coriolanus was impressed, to say the least. Cautiously, he knelt down in front of [Y/N]. He would remember this image of her for his whole life. With her mascara running, her stockings ripped, her shoes long missing, the top of her extravagant dress sliding too low for public consumption, she was divine, truthfully. That was her. That was how he would always want to remember her. “Darling?” He said quietly.

Now, the bastard was left open to play the dutiful savior, just as she had teased earlier.

[Y/N] started to twist the engagement ring off of her finger, theatrically. Coriolanus took her obvious bait and took her hand to stop her. He slid the ruby ring back down her finger calmly. “Darling, I’m not going anywhere. You’re drunk. You just need a little help, right? You mustn’t drink so much. It breaks my heart to see you like this,” Coriolanus squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “You need me. I’m not going anywhere. What kind of husband would that make me if I did?”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re a good man, Coriolanus,” LIE. “You’re too good to me.”

“Come on,” Coriolanus rose from the floor and extended a hand to her. “Let’s get you home, huh?” He said condescendingly.

[Y/N] took his hand carefully. He pulled her up and she stumbled to her feet. Coriolanus wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and pulled her closer. He glanced around in surprise to address the crowd that had gathered in front of them. “I’m sorry for everything you just had to see. Please be kind to my fiancée; she’s had a lot to drink. Posca, right?” Coriolanus darkly attempted a somber joke. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on her. We’ll be getting home. Thank you all for coming out to celebrate us tonight.” Sorry to call it a night with so much night left.” He said softly.

Coriolanus led her to the edge of the dance floor where he had spotted her shoes. He grabbed the red shoes from the floor and carried them dangling from his free hand as he walked her to the door and down the stairs to the sidewalk. [Y/N] had a vague memory of Coriolanus summoning their driver via the valet at the door. She was too busy noticing how her stockings caught on the sidewalk with every step.

“Darling?” Coriolanus whispered, leaning down to whisper to her. “You were brilliant.”

“Really?” She sniffled hesitantly. “Because I’m fairly certain that everyone in that room hates me.”

“Any press is good press.” Coriolanus reminded her with a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“For you, maybe. I made a mistake asking for that…” she kicked at a stray stone on the sidewalk. “I am probably the biggest villain in Panem right now.” [Y/N] said, shaking her head a little with a sad laugh.

“Not a villain,” Coriolanus scoffed. “A star.”

PART II HERE

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @ndycrls @arminsarlerts @catlover420sstuff @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @watermelonharry @ohantonia @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @nananarwhal @taykorsyogurt

sorry - some of them would not process and actually tag! i tried!!!!! non functional tags indicated with strikethru

[kafka-ish]

Being Art and Patrick’s roommate… OMG

I feel like you all have known each other since high school or maybe you and Art have roomed together in college and Patrick was always hanging around your guys’ dorm so after you graduate you decide why not? It’s comfortable. You all know each other. But you don’t realize how fucking awkward it is until Patrick’s roaming around shirtless in his boxers. Eating cold pizza for breakfast straight out of the fridge with a left over beer to go with it.

You get up one morning and see him lounging around the living room like he owns the place and you’re just like seriously? And he’s just like yeah, deal with it.

“Yeah but, Ren and Stimpy?” He wishes you were ogling him even though he has a girlfriend who hates the fact that you live with him but it’s fine because so does Art. Not like anything’s gonna happen…

And, yeah, part of you also wants to eyeball his abs and v-line and jaw. Not to mention the bulge that’s poking out of his—

But it’s only natural. But he’s basically your older brother so you tell him to go put on a shirt.

“Sorry, babe, laundry day.” Or sometimes he’ll say, “you wish you were lucky enough to get a paid subscription to this.” And you try to pass it off. Hope he doesn’t see you blush or brush his skin when you try to take the remote from him.

“You should be more like Art.” He hates when you say this to him. He doesn’t know what the hell that means; if you mean it or not. Patrick’s always been good with girls but he can never pick up on your sarcasm or when you’re being deadpan because the only interactions you have are petty fights over the food you had saved, the dishes, how messy he is. Basically your whole living dynamic. And you never chastise Art. Sometimes you make a point to tell him how much you love the way he organized the cabinets while Patrick’s on the couch watching re-runs of shitty reality tv he’s not even that interested in. You thank Art for the fact that you never have to pick up after him. Say stuff like at least someone got dressed today.

Patrick just rolls his eyes. Says he’s going to the gym at one so he’ll be out of your hair or okay mom or since when are you in charge?

And as much as Patrick tries not to let it get to him, it does. He confides to Art about this. “Dude… I think she’s pissed.”

“Yeah, well… You can be messy sometimes, Patrick.”

“I think she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She lives with you.”

And even though Art’s sworn to secrecy, he tells you anyway. He can’t keep his mouth shut and he wants to make things right. You guys are roommates.

You’re in your room. Art’s inside you and this is the only thing that boy hasn’t told anyone about yet. It’s just casual sex. It started in college but it just kept… happening.

“Patrick thinks you hate him.”

“What? I never said that.” Art shrugs, still shoving his cock inside you.

“That’s what he told me.” He groans. Grips the flesh of your hips. Thrusts become deeper and his forehead bumps yours. “Fuck. You’re, like, tighter each time we do this.”

“I think that’s just a myth.”

He reaches the hilt of your pussy. Moans loudly when he finishes. Stays inside for a minute.

He pulls out and his blonde curls flop onto the pillow next to yours. Messy, sweaty, spreading out in every direction. His breath is heavy. “Anyway, I think you should talk to him.”

“What would I say?”

“Actually, maybe don’t say anything.”

Your face makes a confused look at the ceiling, contemplating. Art sees this. Kisses your cheek.

“Want me to go down on you?”

[sanarsi]

Everything we did that summer

step-uncle!no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: You resisted getting close to Joel, afraid of what might happen then. Well, his affection for you destroyed everything you had worked for. Warnings: +18, MDNI, age gap (reader is in college, Joel is 56), STEP-UNCLE!Joel, unprotected PIV, fingering, pussy eating Wordcount: 3,6k An: Uncle Joel is my wet dream that I don't want to admit to. But I'm letting you feel the shame with me. Enjoy xx Music I worked with: Cry Baby - The Neighbourhood

Masterlist

"Stop being offended. We're only going for a few days. You can stand sitting on your ass by the ocean," your mother muttered. You rolled your eyes and focused on the view outside the window again. Sand and water. Nothing else. Why did he have to live in such a remote place?

"Honey, take it easy," Tommy said, placing his hand on his wife's thigh. The woman sighed loudly and fell back into her seat. "She will surely cheer up when she sees how nice it is there," he assured her. "Right, kid?" he asked, glancing at you in the mirror. As usual, smiling and full of positive energy. You had no idea where he got the strength from. Living with your mother was tiring.

"Yeah," you mumbled under your breath. That was enough to make your mother furious again.

"Why you don't like him actually?" she asked, gesturing too vigorously with her hands. Tommy fell silent, curious about the answer to that question himself. No one understood why you couldn't get along with your uncle from the very beginning. Step-uncle.

Well, the answer was simple.

Joel Miller was like forbidden fruit. Damn handsome and mysterious. Your wet dream.

That's why the first time you looked into his dark, piercing eyes and shook his big, rough hand, you decided you would never do it again. For your own safety.

"He's weird," you said, disgusted.

"Weird?" the woman repeated in an almost squeaky voice. You winced at the sound and clenched your jaw tighter, knowing you were treading on thin ice. "What do you mean he's weird?" You shrugged and glanced in the mirror, meeting Tommy's gaze. He smiled at you comfortingly, so whether you wanted to or not, you smiled back.

Tommy was okay. He was the only one who could keep your mother's temper in check. No small feat, so you were impressed.

"I don't know. He's just weird." You didn't want to go into details. You didn't want to talk about it. You felt ashamed of the way you thought about him. Ashamed that it was his name you whispered every time you touched yourself.

"Joel's a little isolated but he's a good man," Tommy said, glancing at your mother. "I'm sure you'll get along. A few days as a family never hurt anyone," he added, tightening his grip on his woman's thigh and glancing at you with a wink.

Oh if he knew how wrong he was.

From a distance you could see a small house right by the beach. It was nice. You yourself would like to live in a place like that. You didn't wonder why Joel decided to move here. Another thing that put you off him even more.

The car slowly stopped and your gaze immediately fell on the man who was standing in front of the house, frowning in the sunlight. Your heart sped up for a moment.

"You have to say hello. No discussion," your mother ordered, narrowing her eyes at you in warning. You didn't react, staring blindly at her. You probably didn't even understand what she was saying to you, but it was too late because she and Tommy left the car. You got out right after them and watched as Joel hugged your mother in greeting. Their words drowned out the waves crashing against the shore.

You put your hands in your jeans pockets and looked at your sneakers before taking one last deep breath and heading towards them. Your stomach tightened in a knot as you watched both brothers hug each other tightly with longing. Their laughter grew louder as you stopped a few meters away from them.

“Getting old?” Tommy asked teasingly. Joel rolled his eyes with an amused grimace.

“Gained weight?” he retorted. Your mother laughed as her husband pouted.

“I feed him well. He has a weakness for lasagna,” she said with a warm smile before placing a kiss on his cheek and he wrapped his arm around her waist. You felt nauseous at the sight of their happiness. But that was because Joel’s gaze fell on you as your parents whispered sweet nothings to each other.

“Hi kiddo,” he spoke first, coming closer. You swallowed the lump in your throat slowly and nodded.

“Hi,” you replied softly. You couldn’t help but turn into a good girl in his company. The dominance radiating from him made you simply submissive. You didn’t sit through it.

“They drag you out of the house?” he asked, glancing at your parents who were heading to the car to get your luggage.

“As you can see.” You tried to smile but it came out as a grimace.

“A few days without the internet will do you good.”

Oh god, why did parental comments sound like an invitation to go to bed with him. Fuck.

“But don’t worry, I won’t let you get bored,” he added with a wink and tapped you under the chin teasingly before he went to help with the luggage. You blinked a few times, blindly staring at the sand.

Oh shit.

The sun had almost set below the horizon as loud laughter echoed around. Everyone was sitting by the bonfire on the beach, drinking beer and eating far too greasy food. You didn't even listen to their tipsy conversations and just stared at the sea waves. The cool breeze and hot fire caressed your face, let your thoughts stop running for a moment.

Suddenly you heard a heavy groan so your gaze fell on Joel, who was just sitting down next to you.

"Fuck, I'm really getting old," he snorted under his breath shaking his head in disbelief. You noticed that your parents were on their way home.

"Where are they going?" you asked following them with your gaze until they disappeared behind the door.

"Your mom needs company to use the bathroom," he said and took a sip of beer. You watched as his Adam's apple moved with each swallow and a lonely drop ran from the corner of his mouth. Your mouth began to dry up admiring the view knowing that it would haunt you the next time you sank your fingers inside you.

“Want some?” he asked, holding the bottle out to you. You glanced at his hand that was wrapped around the glass. It could wrap around your neck as well. Fuck.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled, taking the beer so as not to touch his fingers. You took a drink even though you hated beer. You grimaced at the bitter taste, to which Joel laughed under his breath.

"Still not drinking?" he asked, watching you with amusement as you handed him the beer.

"I had one for my twenty-first birthday. It’s enough for the rest of my life," you replied, glancing at him before you fixed your gaze on the fire. The burning fire was much better than the fire you felt inside you because of his gaze.

"That's good. Alcohol is shit," he nodded, then took another sip of beer. You rolled your eyes, smiling under your breath. "So what? College? Work?" he asked, trying to somehow break the silence between you.

You might not have liked him, but he never noticed that. You were always just... quiet. Shy around him. He assumed it was normal because you hadn't been a family forever.

"Both," you nodded, shrugging.

"Well, look at you. You've grown into a resourceful young woman," he elbowed you teasingly in the side. You couldn't stop your growing smile as you glanced at him again.

"I don't want to be a burden to them. They're sick of me already." You smiled, but not with your eyes. Joel grimaced at that.

"Oh, come on. They definitely can't get enough of you." He tried to comfort you because he didn't want to see you sad during the few days you were at his place.

"They almost had a fight because of me before we came here. Believe me, they're sick of me," you laughed under your breath. Joel watched in silence as you stared into the fire, your forced smile slowly disappearing.

“But it’s all good now. They laugh like children and I have a feeling I’ll have to wear earplugs at night,” he said with a smirk. You looked at him, grimacing in disgust.

“Ew,” you groaned and laughed. It immediately felt better.

Joel had a fatherly instinct that was still there, even though Sarah was already an adult and had her own family. Seeing you smile filled him with a fulfillment he couldn’t explain or fight.

“Grown-ups have to fight sometimes. Otherwise, they’d kill each other in their sleep.”

You snorted at his humorless words. You were the only reason they wanted to kill each other so his words didn't work as a comfort. But at least he tried. And that was enough to make you feel even worse about the place he occupied in your thoughts. You hated him and yourself even more.

"And you?"

"What about me?" you asked indifferently.

"You have someone to fight with too?" he asked gently. You blinked a few times before looking at him like he was an idiot. Joel snorted quietly seeing the answer on your face. "Okay, I understand," he nodded amused raising his hands in surrender.

There was silence for a moment.

"So is it a girl or a boy?"

"Oh my god," you groaned miserably and hid your face in your hands feeling your face starting to burn with embarrassment.

"What? I'll support you in every decision," he started explaining with a wide smile.

"No and no," you replied looking at him. “People my type don’t pay attention to me,” you blurted out thoughtlessly. You wanted to punch yourself in the face when you saw the interest in his eyes. Idiot.

“Don’t exaggerate. You’re pretty, funny, and intelligent. Most people would look at you on the street.”

“But not older men.”

“Especially older men,” he corrected you seriously. Silence fell as you stared at each other. Joel had already had a few beers, so his eyes sparkled more than usual and you were still overwhelmed by everything girl. He didn’t move, staring into your eyes as if he was frozen. Every muscle in your body tensed painfully. He didn’t say anything, so you didn’t either. So why-

And then his gaze fell on your lips.

For a split second, before you heard your mother’s laughter and his gaze immediately pierced the fire. Your heart pounded in your chest like a bell until the very end.

And even lying on the couch in his living room, you couldn't get it out of your head when his gaze went down.

The next day you decided to cut yourself off. You had been lying on the beach since morning, sunbathing and listening to music. No one dared to disturb you.

No one except Joel.

His shadow blocked the sun from your view, making you wince. You took off your sunglasses and took your headphones out of your ears when he started talking to you. You mumbled questioningly, to which he rolled his eyes.

"Tommy and your mother went to the store," he announced. You frowned.

"And?" you mumbled further, not knowing why he had come to you.

"Want to see something?" he asked with a smile. You looked at him uncertainly and was about to refuse when he interrupted you. "You'll like it."

And that was enough.

A few minutes of walking on the beach in his company was quite a challenge for you. The only thing you could do with your hands were the ribbons on your swimsuit panties. Even his questions couldn't distract you from how good he looked in a loose shirt and shorts.

It was a crime to look so good at his age.

"Here." His voice tore you out of your thoughts. You looked around seeing only a mountain of sand in front of you. You looked at him and he was already nodding in the direction you were supposed to go. So you did. And he was walking right behind you.

And no one knew that his gaze was scanning your half naked body for a moment.

You slowly entered a large sea cave. You looked around in shock. The water reflected the sun's rays on the stone ceiling, making everything look more magical. You smiled widely and glanced at Joel who was watching you with satisfaction.

"I told you you'll like it," he said proudly.

"This is amazing." You started walking around and looking at everything. The most important thing immediately popped into your head. "Do you have a phone?" you asked, glancing at it.

"Yeah, why?" he asked, leaning against the stone wall.

"You'll do a photoshoot for me. I need something for Instagram." Joel blinked a few times, not even knowing what to answer.

"For what?" he frowned, confused, but obediently took his phone out of his pocket. You sighed and waved your hand dismissively.

"Some kind of app," you said indifferently because he wouldn't understand anyway. He raised a suspicious eyebrow, glancing from you to the camera on his phone.

"But not for money?" he asked uncertainly.

"Joel! No!" you said, outraged that something like that could have even crossed his mind. A sigh of relief left his lungs before he nodded.

For the next half hour, you posed like models from magazine covers. The sand stuck to your skin and the water had long since soaked your hair. But Joel took it to heart to be your photographer.

"Chin a little higher," he said, looking at the phone screen. You smiled wider and did as he told you. "Beautiful," he muttered under his breath, taking a few photos.

"I don't know how models can do that all day," you groaned in pain and shifted on the rock you were currently lying on.

"We can finish now. I think I took so many photos that you won't be able to look through them by the evening," he said, amused.

"A few more and we can go," you nodded.

"Then you'll have to try a little longer." You laughed and changed positions. You sighed, taking the final pose and looked in his direction.

A few more photos went into the gallery.

"Yeah, let me just..." he mumbled and approached you. His fingers carefully gathered your hair that had stuck to your face. His heated fingers ran over your cold skin, causing a shock effect. "That's better," he smiled warmly, so despite the urge to throw up your breakfast, you smiled back.

He stepped back again, taking a few photos. He looked at the phone screen and was silent for a moment.

"Okay, I have an idea," he said and approached you again. "Lean back, resting on your hands," he explained, so under his watchful eye, you endured what he ordered. He placed his hands on your shoulders, gently squeezing his fingers to adjust their position. You watched him with a lump in your throat.

He was too close.

"Hip a little forward."

Without waiting for your reaction, he grabbed your hips and gently moved them towards him. You barely held back a moan when he touched you like that. Your heart was pounding in your chest like crazy.

"And your legs."

He ran his hands over your thighs, but your quiet moan made him freeze. You felt fear wash over your body as he fell silent, staring at the spot where his hands touched your skin. You breathed heavily, trying to control your body's reaction to his proximity. But you couldn't.

His gaze slowly traveled over your body to your eyes, which were filled with fear mixed with something else.

And Joel knew very well what it was.

Even though no one had looked at him like that for a long time, he hadn’t forgotten what desire was.

And he should… He should have been the first to think of the fact that he was your uncle and was touching you inappropriately. But he couldn't.

He couldn't stop the blood from flowing to his cock and his hands from going up on their own. You parted your lips, panting heavily when his hands were on your hips again, squeezing them almost painfully.

"Don't look at me like that," he almost growled through his tightly clenched jaw. Shivers ran through you.

"I can't, I'm sorry," you said tearfully. You felt terrible about how helpless you were in his presence. And he felt even worse when he realized how much he wanted to take advantage of it.

“You don’t want this, baby girl.” He tried to hold on to the last bit of his brain that was thinking correctly.

You could barely catch your breath as you straightened up, nodding like you were drunk. “But I do,” you said, grimacing in helplessness.

Joel growled under his breath before you both met your lips in a split second. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, moaning into his mouth as his tongue immediately found yours. His arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you closer to him until he was perfectly positioned between your thighs.

Soft moans escaped your lips at the desire you had never felt before. Each of his rough kisses ignited a bigger fire inside you. You moaned as if he was at least bringing you to orgasm with just his kisses.

“Jesus, fuck,” he growled feeling his cock harden painfully from the sounds that left your lips. He wasted no time and his fingers quickly pushed the material of your panties to the side, running two fingers over your wet slit. A growl of pleasure mixed with your squeal as he lowered his fingers inside you.

“Oh god,” you gasped unable to catch your breath as his fingers began to fuck you, hitting your weak spot every time. Your loud moans echoed off the walls of the cave as you fell back against the stone.

Joel looked down at your pussy from which juices were dripping down his hand. He didn’t hesitate for a moment to taste you.

He bent down and greeted your clit with a deep kiss. You tensed up, arching as you came as if by magic.

Joel purred contentedly as your orgasm began to trickle down his hand. But he didn't pull away from you for even a moment, because he had just started playing with you.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling hard as you began to thrust your hips in rhythm with his movements. His fingers sped up a bit as he began to circle your clit with his tongue, leading you straight to another orgasm. And all he had to do was curl his fingers inside you and you began to tremble under his mouth as you came again.

"What a good girl," he mumbled into your pussy before pulling away.

The oxygen finally reached your lungs but Joel quickly deprived you of it. You lifted your head to watch as he ran his cock along the length of your wet slit.

He watched everything hypnotized as he slowly dipped the tip into you. That was enough for your eyes to roll back and your head to fall back against the rock. He pulled his hips back and entered you a little deeper again. And so several times until you were perfectly prepared for his thickness.

You could barely moan when you felt how perfectly he filled you. Just like you always thought. Just like he always did in your wet dreams.

He began to move his hips sensually, watching in delight as your pussy tightly embraced him.

"This sweet little pussy is leaking like she’s never had a cock inside of her," he groaned as you clenched around him. You cried out feeling like you were on the edge of a cliff with his slow and deep strokes. Perfect to bring you to the edge of another orgasm.

“Your cock,” you gasped in response. That was when his gaze dared to move to your face for the first time, lost in pleasure. You looked like his most beautiful sin. And he couldn’t help but speed up his thrusting into you just to see you trying to catch your breath.

The sight made his cock quiver deep inside you. Now he couldn't tear his eyes away from your face. He thrust harder and faster feeling himself hardening with every movement in your tight pussy. And when you came with a scream, he didn't stop.

He panted heavily pushing his cock into you until all you saw were stars. He growled digging his fingers into your skin to hold you in place when you tried to pull away the moment his orgasm knocked on the door.

He groaned as if he was experiencing fucking ecstasy and cummed deep inside you. He bent down resting his cheek on your breast and panted heavily listening to the rapid beating of your heart.

"Fuck," he gasped heavily and slowly pulled out of you causing you to moan. He allowed himself a moment of rest because at his age such an effort was quite a challenge.

He groaned straightening up finally and looked down at the work he had done. He reached for his phone and aimed the camera at you. The sound of a picture being taken echoed through the cave.

“Yes, it was my idea,” he smiled proudly and you just snorted helplessly.

[incognit0slut]

Better for you

Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.

(THIS CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE BUT IS TECHNICALLY A THIRD PART FOR LOSE CONTROL AND THE LAST LAUGH)

words: 4.6k Category: fluff (surprisingly this is not my usual NSFW work) warnings: kissing, suggestive content a/n: I’m killing two birds with one stone here. One, I caved in and did another part for this rival couple. And two, I wrote this as a participation in @imagining-in-the-margins office party writing challenge🥳 Here are the prompts: 1. The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B. 2. “I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

WAS A PARTY SUPPOSED TO BE THIS BORING? A subtle sigh escaped her lips as she glanced around the backyard. When Rossi invited the team to gather around at his house in celebration of the new year, everybody was on board.

"Who would say no to a David Rossi party?" JJ had said, which led her to bring her family along the occasion. Even Simmons brought his wife and five little kids. And now Rossi’s place never looked so alive with this many people, it seemed that everyone was present at this joyful soirée.

Everyone but one person, that is.

She turned her attention back to the drink in her hand, leaning against the open bar Rossi had set up, her mind drifting towards a certain man. It wasn't like she was keeping tabs on him. Really, she wasn't. It just happened that his absence became surprisingly noticeable when he decided to take some time off work to visit his mom, even days before Christmas break.

How long had it been since the last time she saw him? Two weeks? Three? It seemed like a considerable amount of time had passed since she saw was forced to work with him, which happened during the case in a remote town. And despite successfully apprehending the Unsub days later, her resistance to temptation, unfortunately, wasn't as successful.

It was hard not to think of what happened during the travel when it kept playing in her mind like a broken record. It was as if the memories were engraved in her brain—his slick, sweaty body pressing against hers; his soft lips caressing her skin; his large hands roaming her curves, traveling to places that had her hot and wet—

What the hell was wrong with her?

She took a sip of her drink—or more like chugging it down—trying to test if the burning sensation could wash away her filthy mind.

"Whoa," a sudden voice broke through her haze and she looked up to find Luke standing close to her. "Easy there."

His easygoing grin met her gaze as he gestured toward her almost empty glass. She shrugged, aiming the glass toward him in a mock toast. "Just trying to enjoy the party."

"Yeah?" He chuckled, leaning against the bar.

She shot him a sideways glance. "What's it to you, Alvez?"

His grin widened. "Well, when someone's drinking like they're on a mission, it catches my attention. Everything okay?"

She hesitated for a moment before responding, her tone calm. "I'm just getting into the party spirit, you know?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor unwavering. "Is that so? Or are you trying to drown out some thoughts?"

She scoffed. "Thoughts? What thoughts?"

"The kind that makes you chug down your drink."

"You're imagining things. I'm simply enjoying this..." Her eyes scanned the party, trying to find a word describing the ongoing festive. "...ambiance."

"Alone by the table full of alcohol?"

"Well, someone's got to keep an eye on these drinks from disappearing too quickly."

"Hmm," He responded. "It kind of seems like you're waiting for someone to join the party."

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she scoffed again. "I know who you're referring to, and no, I am not waiting for anyone."

He leaned in, the mischief in his eyes unwavering. "So, you're telling me that if Reid walked in right now, you wouldn't do a happy dance?"

"Please, there would be no happy dance," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just a casual acknowledgment, maybe."

"Casual acknowledgment? You're going with that?" His grin widened, his teasing persistence unyielding. "There's nothing casual about you two."

"If you mean hating each other's gut, then sure, there is nothing casual about Reid and me."

"He doesn't hate you, you know." She gave him a deadpanned look, her skepticism evident in her arched brow. Luke laughed. "Fine, he disliked the idea of having another prodigy on the team. When he got out of prison, he felt like you were his replacement."

She frowned. "I kind of was. Emily wanted someone to fill in for his absence while he was away."

Luke raised an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. "True, but I think you're starting to grow on him." She shook her head, trying to brush off the comment. "I'm serious, I think you made an impression."

Her skepticism lingered as she fully turned towards him, pointing a finger at him. "So you’re telling me every time he tried to pick a fight he was actually impressed by my intelligence?"

"Well, Reid's got this... unique way of expressing himself, but trust me, he respects you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Now you're just pushing it."

"There's got to be something more than what you're letting on. He's not exactly subtle, you know."

She leaned back slightly, trying to maintain composure. "You're reading too much into it. Reid and I have..." a complicated dynamic between coworkers who hate each other but had sex twice—well, three, including that one time in the shower. "...a professional relationship," she decided to say.

His grin widened. "Professional? I've seen the way you two spar during cases."

She huffed. "It's just our way of solving problems. It doesn't mean anything more."

Luke's expression turned thoughtful. "I've worked with him for a while, and he usually doesn't go back and forth with people in smart talk. There must be something about you that intrigues him."

"Or irritates him," she added dryly. "You're giving him too much credit."

"Maybe," he admitted with a laugh. "But I don’t know, he might surprise you one of these days."

She shot him a skeptical glance. "I highly doubt that."

"Yeah?" He suddenly looked past her, a sly grin forming. "Then maybe should find out for yourself."

Confused, she turned around to see what had caught his attention…. And time seemed to slow as her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Spencer entering the party, a casual smile on his face as he greeted everyone. For a moment, their eyes locked, and despite her attempts to remain nonchalant, a subtle flutter danced in her chest.

She quickly looked away, her attempt to maintain composure falling apart.

"See what I mean?" Luke's voice broke through her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect. "It's just a party, people look at each other. There's nothing special."

He raised an eyebrow and responded with a hint of sarcasm. “Sure."

"I'm serious. Stop reading into it."

"Alright, I won't."

That only annoyed her even more. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of the situation. "You're insufferable."

"What? I believe you," he replied. "I mean, nothing could've happened between two people who were locked together and then forced to share a room, right?"

She shot him a glare, but before she could say anything, she felt a presence coming up behind her. A sudden chill ran down her spine as she caught a whiff of scent she was accustomed to by now, something woody and fresh with a subtle hint of sweetness.

"Reid," Luke greeted as he gave her a side glance before moving towards Spencer, casually dropping an arm around his shoulders. "It's good to see you. How's your mom?"

Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before responding to Luke, "She's doing well, thanks."

“Good to hear.” Luke nodded his head towards her. "Y/n here was just telling me how much she missed you during the holidays."

Suppressing a groan, she shot him a warning look. Spencer, however, responded with a small smile. "You did?"

Her cheeks warmed slightly, caught off guard by his direct question. She feigned nonchalance, offering a casual shrug. "Please, I was just mourning the lack of someone to challenge my wisdom."

Luke chuckled and gave her one last pointed look before excusing himself with a pretense of Rossi calling him somewhere from the crowd. Her eyes narrowed on his back as he walked away, shaking her head in disbelief. "That man coming close to being second place on my hate list."

"I take it I'm still on your number one spot then."

She turned towards him at the sound of his voice, and now that they were alone, she finally took her time to observe him.

Her eyes scanned his clothes, taking in the details. From the carefully styled hair that hinted at the time he took to prepare, to the open dress shirt that he seemed unbothered to button all the way, exposing his long neck and the slight expanse of his chest. He looked good. He looked clean, polished, and undeniably handsome.

She blinked and cleared her throat, attempting to regain composure. "Well, you certainly took your time getting ready."

He met her gaze with a hint of amusement in his eyes, seemingly aware of her scrutinizing observation. "I believe in making a good impression," he replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to acknowledge the effect his appearance had on her. "Trying to win over the crowd with something beyond your brain?"

"Partly," he admitted, "And partly because someone once told me that a well-dressed genius is a force to be reckoned with."

"Must have been Garcia."

He grinned. "You know her well."

She took another sip of her drink, a blend of sweet and bitter notes dancing on her tongue. Keeping her eyes on him over the rim of her glass, she observed the play of shadows on his face, accentuating the angles of his features. The ambient light from the party cast a subtle glow, and she couldn't help but notice how it highlighted the soft strands of hair that fell gracefully across his forehead.

"I'm actually surprised to see you here," she slowly remarked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Surprised? Should I be offended?"

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I'm not," he agreed. "The only exception of social gathering I can endure is with everyone present here."

"Including me?"

“Especially you."

Her demeanor faltered for a split second, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in his tone. It wasn't the usual witty remark she anticipated. A flicker of surprise crossed her features before she could conceal it, her throat clearing as she attempted to regain control over her beating heart.

"Especially… me?" she echoed, attempting to mask the surprise in her voice.

Spencer's gaze held a warmth that felt unfamiliar, and he nodded. "It seems social events are more bearable when you're around."

She tilted her head and studied him. "You're just saying that because you have someone to pick a fight with."

"A fight?" He wondered. "Is that what we've been doing?"

"It's what we've always been doing."

"Not for the past few weeks, we haven't."

She knew what he was referring to. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of indulging in a conversation about their sexual escapades, she instead responded with, "Well, you haven't, I'm still trying to play my part here."

He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the quiet space between them. "And what part would that be?"

"The one where I constantly question the liability of your knowledge, of course."

Spencer's smile widened, the lines of his face softening. "Maybe," he began, his voice low, "We can explore different roles that don't involve any fighting."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting a truce, Dr. Reid?"

"More like a change of tactics, Dr. L/n," he replied, gently taking the glass from her hand and placing it by the bar.

Her frown deepened, uncertainty in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

He nodded toward the center of the backyard where most of their team members filled the space of the party. "Dance with me."

She gazed towards the dance floor, then back at him, and her brows furrowed. That did not sound like the Spencer she knew, heck, she wasn't sure she had ever seen him dance before. Her eyes narrowed further when he gave her a grin.

"Come on, it's just a dance. It won't kill you," he urged, extending a hand towards her.

She eyed his outstretched hand with mock skepticism. "Are you implying that dancing with you is some kind of survival?"

Spencer grinned. "Considering the number of times you've survived my intellect, this should be a walk in the park."

She rolled her eyes. "Intellect, yes. Dancing? I'll take my chances."

"Are you afraid you'll step on my toes?" he teased.

"More like I'm afraid you'll step on mine," she shot back.

Spencer chuckled. "Just one dance, and if you don't enjoy it, you can revert to questioning the liability of my knowledge."

Her eyes drifted between his outstretched hand and his gaze, a silent contemplation unfolding within her. She knew that if she agreed to this, there was no turning back. Was it a wise decision? Probably not. But a small, rebellious part of her was curious to see how the night would unfold.

Spencer watched her with a patient expression, his hand still extended. The music continued to play, a steady beat that seemed to echo the pulse of the night, and after a moment's hesitation, she sighed in mock exasperation.

"Fine," she said, finally placing her hand in his, "But I reserve the right to make sarcastic remarks about your dance moves later."

"Deal," he agreed, leading her onto the dance floor with a grin.

She could feel everyone's scrutiny on them as he pulled her onto the dance floor, her breath hitching when he grabbed her other hand and placed her arms around his neck before snaking his arms around her waist.

"Everyone's watching us, aren't they?" she asked as they started to move to the soft beat of the music.

Spencer's gaze held a mischievous glint as he twirled her around, navigating the dance floor with surprising grace. "Let them watch," he replied, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "It's just a dance, after all."

"You don't strike me as the 'just a dance' kind of person." She arched an eyebrow, unable to shake off the sense that there was more to this move than met the eye. "You don't even strike me as someone who even knows how to dance."

He shrugged. "Dancing is easy. All you have to do is move in circles and hold on to your partner."

He proved his point by pulling her further into his arms, and she couldn't help but notice the contrast in their heights. His broad chest pressed against her, the softness of his abdomen against her stomach, while his arms securely wrapped around her body.

Her breath caught for a moment, her gaze instinctively locking with his. The initial awkwardness transformed into a surprising ease, and she reciprocated the movements with a newfound confidence. The subtle sways and turns took on a rhythm of their own, syncing perfectly with the music that enveloped them.

"See?" he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Easy."

They continued to move to the rhythm, and she couldn't help but notice the intensity in his gaze. The world around them seemed to blur, and for a moment, she actually enjoyed being held close to him.

But before she could fully relax in his arms, JJ appeared on the dance floor, hand in hand with her husband Will. The look of disbelief in their friend's eyes was unmistakable as the couple approached them while being tangled in their own dance.

"Are my eyes deceiving me," JJ teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Or are you two getting along quite well?"

She rolled her eyes, attempting to maintain a casual facade. "It's just a dance. Don't read too much into it."

JJ's grin widened as she exchanged a knowing look with Will. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you and Reid would willingly share the dance floor."

She shot a glance at Spencer, and there was a momentary flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise? amusement? She couldn't quite place it. Collecting herself, she responded with a mock grimace, "He forced me into it."

Spencer's expression turned playful. "I have a way of convincing people to do things they didn't know they wanted to do."

"You mean manipulate."

He chuckled. "Persuade, Y/n. It's all about perspective."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw JJ and Will exchanging another pointed look. "Either way, you both look like you're having a good time."

"And you both look good together," Will added.

"Thank you."

"We're not together."

They both looked at each other while JJ raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Yet here you are. Spence, you might have just discovered a hidden talent—getting Y/n to dance."

She let out a sigh. "Don't encourage him."

Spencer leaned in, his tone low. "You're just mad because you're enjoying this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Let's not get carried away."

"Come on, just admit it," The corners of his lips lifted in a playful smirk. "You're having more fun than you expected."

"Fun?" She scoffed, attempting to deflect the growing warmth in her cheeks. "I wouldn't call this fun. It's just an unfortunate consequence of being at a party."

"Yet you can't deny that you're not entirely opposed to the idea."

She shot him a glare. "You're dangerously close to overestimating your influence."

"Or maybe you're underestimating your willingness to enjoy the moment."

She shook her head, turning towards JJ. "Can you believe him—"

She stopped when she realized they had been left alone for a while, noticing JJ and Will were already at the other side of the dance floor. However as her eyes scanned around them, the scrutiny of the others didn't go unnoticed by her. She fixed her gaze back on Spencer.

"We must be such a sight to see," she remarked. "I bet they're starting some rumors about us."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think they haven't already?"

She sighed, acknowledging his words. "Fair point."

"What do you think they're saying about us?"

She considered for a moment. "That we secretly don't hate each other," she responded after contemplating her answer. "I think they might be disappointed when they realize the truth."

His arms instinctively tightened around her waist. "And what's the truth?"

She studied him, her heart suddenly beating fast. Weeks ago, she would have answered the question with certainty, stating that they were nothing more than coworkers who were both very stubborn. But as she felt his eyes watching her intently, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"The truth?" she echoed, her voice a little softer than she intended. "I don't know, Reid. What is our truth?"

He held her gaze, and for a moment, she was hypnotized by the look in his eyes. "Well, the part where we secretly don't hate each other is true, for me at least."

Her breath caught as she absorbed his words.

“…you don't hate me?"

"Hate is a very strong word." Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Hate is often fueled by fear or misunderstanding. It's a complex emotion rooted in our perceptions and experiences. So, in a way, hate is a reflection of the mind rather than a true evaluation of a person."

She couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you just use psychology to explain why you don't hate me?"

"Considering our line of work, it seemed appropriate."

She shook her head in amusement. "Only you would analyze hate in the middle of a dance."

Spencer continued, "Well, understanding emotions is crucial in our field. And I believe there's more to us than mere hostility."

She pursed her lips together, her mind suddenly going through the times they often bickered. "I still find it hard to believe you didn't hate me the first time we met."

"Dislike would be a better way to put it. But I was at my lowest point at that time. It wasn't just you, I was angry at everyone. At the circumstances. At myself." He slightly leaned back and sighed. "And I admit, it was wrong of me to take it out on you."

Then after a moment of silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers. The apology hung in the air and she found herself at a loss for words. For a fleeting moment, the walls she had built seemed to crumble, leaving her standing on the precipice of something unfamiliar.

She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "And how do you see me now?"

Spencer's gaze held a thoughtful intensity as he considered her question. "I think you're someone who challenges me. There's a depth to you beyond the harsh glare and cold shoulder." He eased, pressing a hand on her lower back. "And, if I may say, someone who looks surprisingly stunning on the dance floor."

A blush crept over her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had another motive behind the compliment. "You're using flattery now? Are you trying to get in my pants again?"

He laughed. "Is it working?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Nice try, Reid. Flattery might get you far, but not that far."

His grin widened, and he guided her through the dance floor with ease. "Well, I'll have to come up with better tactics then."

His touch, gentle and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine as his thumb traced an almost hypnotic pattern on the small of her back through the fabric of her dress. The soft caress felt both intimate and tender, catching her off guard. "I mean it though," he said, his voice a soft murmur that resonated with honesty. "You do look beautiful tonight."

There was something in his gaze that was unfamiliar, even hearing him easily compliment her was foreign in her ears. Her confusion must have been evident on her face because he smiled at her. "What?"

She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. "Nothing. It's just... unexpected, coming from you."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as they moved in sync with the music. "It's part of my New Year's resolution."

"What? To be nicer?" She guessed. "Be a better person?"

"To be a better person for you," he corrected.

Her heartbeat picked up, and she found herself drawing closer to him, the music weaving a subtle spell around them. The warmth radiating from him, the soft glow of the string lights, and the gentle melody created an intimate atmosphere that blurred the lines between the hostility she often wore.

The distance between them diminished, and she felt the subtle shift in the air. Without registering what she was doing, her fingers came up behind his neck, softly playing with the strands of his hair. They were so soft, just like the look reflected in his eyes. Then her gaze went down to his lips; they too looked incredibly soft.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Her eyes snapped to his. "Like what?"

"Like you want to close the distance between us," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because I'm trying to restrain myself from doing just that."

His fingers found the small of her back, pressing gently, while hers continued their silent dance in his hair. Every touch, every movement, fueled the escalating heat between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and the magnetic pull between them was undeniable. The distance diminished further until she could feel his breath, warm and inviting, grazing against her lips.

But before she could indulge herself, Garcia's voice echoed somewhere in the crowd. "It's the final countdown, people!"

Suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings, she released her arms from around his neck and shifted her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the projector screen, previously used by the kids for a movie marathon and now it displayed the vibrant scenes of people joyously ringing in the New Year celebration.

As the digital numbers on the screen ticked down, the energy in the backyard intensified. The countdown became a collective heartbeat, a shared anticipation that echoed through the crowd.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

In those final moments, she stole a glance at Spencer, their eyes locking silently.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

But his stare became so intense that she quickly looked away.

"Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

The cheers erupted, and the backyard was bathed in the glow of fireworks, the sky above adorned with bursts of color. She watched the dazzling display in awe, the explosions of light reflecting in her eyes.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, she noticed her friends wrapped in the arms of their loved ones, celebrating happily. JJ and Will shared a sweet kiss, Simmons was embraced by his family, Penelope and Luke exchanged laughter, and even Rossi, with a subtle smile, clinked glasses with Emily and Tara.

And as the colorful explosions painted the night sky, she felt a lingering gaze on her. Turning, she found Spencer watching her intently. His eyes were searching hers as if he were asking for permission to close the short distance separating them.

She knew what he meant. It was beyond asking permission to kiss her. It was a gentle plea to understand the unspoken boundaries that lingered between them. Engaging in intimacy behind closed doors was one thing, but to take that step in front of their peers meant exposing a vulnerability she had carefully guarded. Did she want to cross that line?

A part of her wavered, finding herself drawn to him—his warm brown eyes, his smile, everything about him seemed to call out to a part of her that she had kept guarded. The barriers she had meticulously built started to feel like fragile walls as everything around them started to fade, leaving only the soft glow of string lights and the distant echoes of laughter.

Oh, fuck it.

Feeling the pull of an undeniable force, she took a step closer with a small, bashful smile playing on her lips. It was all the answer he needed. Closing the distance between them, he framed her face with his large hands, his warm touch sending a shiver down her spine. Surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the vibrant display of fireworks overhead, he finally leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers.

Warmth spread through her body as he held her, his touch gentle yet possessive. He tipped her jaw, allowing his mouth to move along with hers. His tongue easily slipped into her as he continued to taste the subtle hint of liquor she had been drinking. Spencer was never one to drink, but he didn't mind tasting it on her. If anything, he couldn't get enough.

Her arms instinctively traveled underneath his suit jacket, seeking more of his warmth as she wrapped them around his waist. The fabric of his suit was smooth under her fingertips, and the heat of his body radiated through the layers of clothing.

The kiss deepened as he continued to explore her mouth, growing more intense with each passing second, and it wasn't until they heard someone through their haze calling out, "There are kids here!" that he finally pulled away.

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound and she couldn't help but join in. He then rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space that separated them. The lingering taste of their kiss hung in the air, and for a moment, they simply stood there. The reality of the situation slowly sank in, and they exchanged a glance filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"I guess we got carried away," he mumbled.

"You think?" She chuckled, her fingers playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. "We should keep it PG-13 for now."

His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. "Does that mean we can go R-rated later?"

She let out a laugh, throwing her head back in mirth. "You're relentless."

He smiled, savoring the moment of ease between them, and he found himself captivated by the genuine joy she radiated. His gaze traveled around the backyard and noticed everyone watching them with amused grins. He leaned down and pulled her flush against him. "Everyone's watching us."

She groaned and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I can already imagine their teasing."

There was a moment of silence before he responded, "I think it's worth it."

"What is?" she mumbled into his neck.

He pulled away and looked down at her. In a tender gesture, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I can handle the constant teasing if it means I get to hold you like this."

The corners of her lips curled into a soft smile. "You're willing to endure their teasing just to hold me?"

His gaze met hers, unwavering. "More than willing."

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. She couldn't believe how this night had turned out, yet, here they were—wrapped up in a dance of their own. It was a position she would've never imagined herself in. And despite her best efforts to resist, the walls she had meticulously built were crumbling.

"Can I kiss you again?" He whispered. "I promise I'll make it family-friendly."

The corners of her lips curled as she laughed. The unexpected turn of events had brought them to a place she never anticipated, but surprisingly, it felt oddly right.

"I suppose one more won't hurt."

His smile widened, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Happy New Year," he whispered against her lips.

She found herself smiling, realizing that perhaps, unexpected as it was, this change of year wasn't so bad. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and wondered where her life would take her this year. The path ahead seemed unclear, but one thing was certain—Spencer Reid had managed to find his way into her heart.

.

a/n: if you’ve followed the story since lose control, this is the ending for this short series. As much as I wanted to write smut again for the last part, the fluff was calling out to me :3

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[natalievoncatte]

Lena squared herself up after she stepped from the elevator.

This has taken considerable work. She’d had to arrange for her absence from boarding school to go unnoticed, or at least, unremarked upon. If Lillian got wind of her running away, she’d have been skinned alive. Perhaps literally. Since her adoptive father’s death, she’d actually looked forward to school, and to being away from Lillian’s abuse. Lex was now the only thing keeping her from Lena, and Lex was preoccupied with his project.

Her brother had been away for school for some time, but they had summers off together at least. When Lex took over the company when he turned 21, he grew distant and aloof, spending more time with his friend Clark or at work than with family.

With his absence came Lillian.

Still, she had managed to build a support network. Frank, her bodyguard-slash-driver was Lex’s man, but he was useful. Lena had spent months buttering him up to participate in her plan: she needed wheels.

In the meantime she’d acquired blackmail material. The head master at the school gave her a broad latitude after she implied that she might expose certain proclivities of his. That gave her the time away she needed. She’d carefully negotiated a higher allowance from Lex in exchange for accelerating her studies in anticipation of beginning her undergraduate studies at sixteen, which was a triviality for her anyway.

Lena walked down the hall, heart pounding against the backpack clutched to her chest. Each step felt heavy, alive with portent.

She could turn back now. She could turn her back now.

What if she was wrong? Paranoid, addled, as crazy as her mother, just like Lillian said? What if she was about to not only blow up her whole life, but slander her brother. If this went sideways, she didn’t know what exactly would happened to her, but Lillian had once, while tipsy on whisky from Lionel’s stash, told Lena that if not for Lex, she’d have Lena garroted with piano wire and buried on the estate, and like any bag of trash, no one would notice she’d been disposed of.

When she told Lex, her hands shook like leaves. He looked at her for a long cold moment and she worried that he’d slap her or scream or throw her out of the house, but he simply said, “I’ll talk to her about it.”

He did. She never made another threat.

He also brought her a wooden box, ornate and polished. Lex sat next to Lena and opened the box, showing her the contents, lying on red velvet. A five shot snub nose revolver and two speedloaders.

“I’ll teach you how to use this,” Lex said, grimly. “I know you’re smart enough to know if you need to. If anyone tries to harm you, kill them. I’ll clean it up.”

Lena had been terrified of it for months, even as she enjoyed the shooting lessons from Lex, given in a remote part of the estate near a burbling creek, the shots cracking the morning peace and shaking dew from leaves.

She had the gun in her backpack, and her hands were shaking.

The other contents of her bag were a weapon far more devastating. She was about to fire it and she’d have to accept the consequences.

Finally, she stood outside the door. Apartment 18B. The name on the lease was Lois Lane, but according to Lena’s reconnaissance, Clark Kent had been living with her virtually full time for the last six months, not long after something changed in his relationship with Lena’s brother.

Lena’s hand hung before the door for a good minute before she knocked, weekly. She hadn’t considered what might happen if they were simply not home. Her legs felt watery and her eyes burned. She knocked again. She was committed now.

The door swung open and Lois Lane stood before her. She was beautiful in an understated way, obscured by limp hair in a chaotic bun, rumpled clothes, and the stink of coffee on her breath.

“Who- what? Kid, what do you want?”

“I need to see Clark Kent. Is he here?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Lena Luthor.”

There was a gust of wind behind her, and Kent stepped into view.

“Lena?” said Clark. “Lex’s little sister? What are you doing here?”

Lena’s throat went tight. She swallowed hard, and as she anticipated, his demeanor changed. He softened. He craned forward slightly, studying her intently, and his brows shot up when looked at her bag.

He was checking her vital signs and he’d spotted the gun. In the bag.

“He knows you’re Superman,” Lena choked out, “and he’s going to kill you.”

Lois glanced at Clark with a stunned, stunned wide expression. Then, she grabbed Lena and yanked her inside, slamming the door. Lena squeaked.

“How do you know that? Lex knows? Did he tell you? What do you mean he wants to kill Clark?”

“Hey,” Clark said, crouching beside Lena to bring himself to her level, resting a comforting hand on her slight shoulder. “Take a breath, Lena. You’re safe here.”

In Lena’s plan, she was going to begin explaining, starting with how she deduced his identity and lay out what she discovered in his files. That was her plan, but no plan survived first contact with the enemy.

Lena began to sob.

Superman knelt beside her and removed his glasses, and enveloped Lena Luthor in a warm, protective hug. She sobbed harder, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” Lois whispered.

She drew the gun out of the bag and checked it with professional, practiced familiarity, dumping the shells into her hand.

“I think she’s telling the truth.”

Clark nodded.

Over the next hour, Lena was swept to Lois’s big couch and sat in the middle while the pair sat on either side of her. When she was hungry, Clark went out to get her favorite guilty pleasure meal, a big greasy burger and fries, and a milkshake too. Between bites, she explained everything, telling them about her brother’s insane plan to turn the sun red.

They believed it all. Lena had receipts.

Eventually, Lena was exhausted, everything had been said, and she sat with dull shock on the couch and stared at the black mirror of a blank television set, marveling at how small and helpless she looked, like a drowned rat.

“Why don’t you lay down for a while?” Lois said, gently. “Here, I’ll put something on the TV for you.”

Lena didn’t make it ten minutes in before she was asleep, curled tightly on one end of the couch with a pillow under her head.

She woke sometime later. It was dark now and she heard voices on the far side of the apartment.

“I called Bruce. He said he’s in, and he’s bringing reinforcements. I’m going to try to get a Green Lantern on board. We have to move fast. Nevermind me, if Lex does this, millions of innocent people will die. We’ll have to move fast.”

“What about the girl?” said Lois. “She can’t go home now. We have to get her somewhere safe.”

“I have to get you both somewhere safe. I should probably come up with a reason to get the building evacuated. One Lex realizes he’s been caught out, he’ll come after both of you.”

“You’re right.”

“I want you to go out,” said Clark. “Make it look like you’re heading out to a convenience store. Bruce is sending Alfred to pick you up, he should be here in an hour. I have somewhere else in mind for Lena.”

“Where?”

“It’s better if I don’t tell you, just in case.”

When he emerged from the back bedroom, Clark Kent was resplendent, clothed in the persona of Superman.

“Lena?” he said, gently. “We have to go. I’ll take you somewhere safe, where your brother won’t find you.”

Lois joined him. “You’re going to put on some of my clothes, and I’m going to check your hair. You can’t take anything with you. Lex Luthor might have been tracking you the entire time.”

Lena’s stomach dropped. What if she was right? That might be a move Lex would play, tracking Lena so that he could use her against his enemy. Lex had become cold, single minded. Lena was wondering how long it would be until she was disposable.

“Okay,” said Lena.

“I’m going to have to fly you.”

Lena did as she was told. She put on an outfit that belonged to Lois, a hilariously oversized Gotham U sweatshirt and leggings. When it was time, Superman bundled her up in his cape.

“I’m scared of heights.”

“I would never drop you,” he said.

Lena screamed when he took off. She was glad for the cape, glad she couldn’t see the ground. She curled up around him and pressed her eyes tightly closed, wondering exactly how fast they were going.

The landing came surprisingly fast. He’d alighted on the grassy lawn of a lovely beach house. Lena smelled something baking and heard voices inside. Clark knocked on the door.

A girl, a little older than Lena, opened the door. Golden curls spilled over her muscular shoulders, and she wore an oversized pair of glasses that did nothing to dull the endless depths of her blue eyes. There was something profoundly sad behind the curiosity in those eyes. She looked at Lena with mild confusion.

Lena stared back. There was a wild stirring in her stomach, and she shifted uneasily on her feet.

Then, the girl addressed Clark in a rapid, clipped, and utterly strange sounding language.

It hit Lena like a shockwave.

They were speaking Kryptonian.

“Lena,” said Superman, turning to her. “This is Kara Zor-El, my cousin. The last daughter of Krypton.”

[rxzennia]

don't you worry child

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 so like i lied and now here’s something not on my wip list. remember the theme park scene with three aventurines? this is loosely based on that. young kakavasha calls you mister like twice but that’s cause you’re looming tall. i wish i could yap about more exploring the map, but it’s already way too long :( would’ve speedran this fic but i was trying to beat divergent v (spoiler alert, i’m still trying)

“for in every adult there dwells the child that was, and in every child there lies the adult that will be.” 

when aventurine showed you the dream bubble made of his memories, he wasn’t expecting to bare his inner child to you. he thought it’d be some of his earlier days at the ipc, some of his conquests and schemes, or maybe some of his glorious wins at the casino, not what he has buried for so long – and definitely not something he’s tried so hard to deny for so long. sure, he will tell you eventually, but not now. not yet, not when he’s barely ready. 

and yet here you are, face to face with a child whose height barely reaches your hips. alone. aventurine said he’d be here with you, but where the hell is he?

you agreed to give your boyfriend’s(?) dream bubble a try, but where are you?

no one’s confessed but there are already rumors in the office so like tentatively dating, you suppose

and who is this small human in front of you?

you adjust your scarf, pulling it a little higher as you stare at the boy

he stares back at you

you try to not glare at him, but for all you know, you might still be glaring anyway

a few minutes pass, and the child blinks at you

he lifts one hand up, look at his feet then back at you, then he tiptoes

"you’re so tall, mister!" 

you look around for anyone else. there’s no one else.

"me?" you point at yourself

you’re not good with kids, you don’t know if you should bother engaging him, but hey, he’s just a kid

no reason to ignore him or tell him to leave you alone

if anything, him being all the way out here in the unregulated areas of the theme park means you should do something about it

maybe you should bring him back to the main area?

"yes, you, mister!" the child nods enthusiastically. "woah, you’re so big! can you come down a little?"

first off, that’s what she said. second, and more importantly, how is he not remotely intimidated by your presence? you’re a pretty towering figure even by your own standards, and you don’t exactly have a friendly face, so the fact that a kid of all people started talking to you…

but the more you look at him, the more you feel a sense of deja vu. his face reminds you of someone you know, but his demeanor is, like, the furthest thing away from that person.

you can’t really say no to him, so you crouch down slowly

you don’t know how to interact with him, but you can at least satisfy his curiosity

"like this?" you’re now a head and a half taller than him. somehow, he takes this as a sign to approach

"child, has no one taught you to not talk to strangers?" 

he gasps, like he suddenly remembered everything his parents warned him to not do, and he lowers his head like he’s just done something bad

"b-but you don’t seem like a bad person!" he bursts out, clumsily fiddling with his fingers. "you, you don’t give me the same feeling bad people do…"

"you should still be careful." you sigh as you adjust your scarf so it’s not touching the ground. "well, that aside. i’m down here now. can i help you?"

you watch as they kid slowly walk up to you, the curiosity shining in his eyes

you didn’t deny his claims! that means you’re a good person!

you’re mildly fascinated by the delicate little human

"i’m looking for someone," he says, finally looking up at you again, "t-then i have to go home… but i’m a little lost…"

is this what the world has come to? a kid asking you for help? in a dream bubble of all things?

though you did agree to experiencing the whole thing, so you should probably play along

"alright." you nod. "how should i call you?"

the child brightens up when you agree to help, and he almost reaches for your hands before he remembered personal space

"umm," he starts, keeping his hands awkwardly half-raised, "my name is kakavasha. mister, what about you?"

"kakavasha, hm?" you say, and you offer him one hand. you briefly wonder if it’s okay to tell dream kakavasha your name – this doesn’t seem like a typical dream bubble and all – but worst comes to worst, you’ll just force your way out.

so you tell the child your name, and you feel an overwhelming sense of adoration when he gingerly tries to repeat the syllables that you’ve just said.

dragon hoarding treasure moment intensifies

this kid is going to grow up into the man you know today? absolutely crazy

you’re kind of spacing out as you try to reconcile the kid in front of you with your boss

and while you’re doing that, you vaguely hear him repeating your name over and over again

"yes, that’s close enough." you finally interrupt his attempts to perfect his pronunciation. "where to, kakavasha?"

you stand up, and holy shit you’re so much taller than him

you briefly wonder if you can even hear him from all the way up there…

you can. you hear him crisp and clear. 

maybe a little too clear

he’s loud.

"can i lead the way?" he asks, as if you’d say no to him (???)

he grabs onto your hand without any reservations and he starts to drag you off

what do you do??? no human interaction has prepared you for children??? because no kid wanted to approach you like ever???

you’re taken so much by surprise that you kind of just… froze up

cue him trying to tug you somewhere but failing miserably

he tries with both hands, but you still wouldn’t budge

super confused

he tries harder

still nothing??? just how big is this big person???

"oh, sorry." you snap back to your senses, and you let him pull you to wherever he wants

after a few turns, pinball machines, and an entire maze later, you find yourself at the central stage, where aventurine did his grandest closing act. you can still see the slash of nihility, but it doesn’t seem that anyone else can see it. perhaps a distortion in the dream bubble itself?

kakavasha takes you straight to the center, right at where the slashed monitor sits.

this whole thing hasn’t sat well with you since you touched that bloody dream bubble

where the fuck is aventurine?

who is kakavasha trying to find?

why would they be here?

unless…

you come to a stop when kakavasha stops to look around. 

"oh, mister’s not here anymore." he whispers, lowering his eyes and fiddling with his fingers, "of course he wouldn’t be waiting…"

you slowly walk up by his side. "who exactly are we looking for? i don’t think you’ve ever told me."

"oh!" kakavasha gasps, "oh." he sputters a little, and he points to the stage. "i ran into a really cool mister earlier, and apparently he’s an actor!" 

now you know who he’s talking about

is this dr edward’s experimental model or something? it’s rare to see memoria taking such form

not that you understand memoria

did aventurine give you this dream bubble knowing this will happen?

so when he said he’d be around, did he mean…?

did he literally regress for this???? what is this, the most fantasy novel to have ever fantasized?

or is he watching you like some guy watching a playthrough of a rpg?

or is this entire thing a bug? because you thought you still have a few years to go before aventurine would even think of letting you so far into his mind

you sigh, it’s all far too complicated for you to think about

you’ll focus on the kid for now

"i see," you reply. you didn’t want to give such a dry response, but what are you even supposed to say? 

"but he seemed a little sad…" kakavasha mumbles, "i was hoping to catch him after his show…"

you’re slightly tempted to say "well you just missed him", but your brain is telling you to not do it

fine, you’ll hold your tongue :(

you watch as the child run around

you give him a few ten minutes before you crouch and open one arm for him

"come on," you sigh, "we’ll be here all day."

kakavasha looks at you, at your unreadable eyes, then your arm, then he tentatively slots himself into your side.

"woah, you’re so tall!" he exclaims when you slowly stand up with him on your shoulder. "i’m so high up! hehe!"

"i know, you’ve said that already," you deadpan

for how unfriendly you are, you sure aren’t hiding your worries well

your other arm has been hovering in front of the boy since the moment you stood up

and you’ve been careful with keeping your arm steady while you walk

"you see him?" 

"no…" comes kakavasha’s downtrodden reply. "i don’t have much time left, papa and mama will be worried if i don’t go home soon…"

you play along, wandering around for kakavasha to look for his adult self. "that’s a shame."

he turns to stare at you

you sound like you don’t give too much of a shit

but he can see that you’re a gentle person at heart

why else would you follow him around, hold his hand, and now lift him up so he can get a better view?

and you’ve also made sure that no monsters could get him

he makes a sad noise when you end up right in front of the monitor

you wonder if he could also see the slash of nihility, or if he intuitively sensed something

he taps your shoulder, a series of quick, feather-light pokes

"down?" you ask, but you’re already lowering kakavasha back onto the ground.

he approaches the broken monitor. "mister… did his show go well?" he grasps your hand tightly. "it was a great success, wasn’t it?"

you feel for the child, you really do. but this is a dream, an illusion where your actions won’t make any actual difference. you want to wrap him up and coddle him, but in the end, that will change nothing. 

"that it was." you nod, and you envelop his way smaller hands in your own. "the greatest success anyone’s ever seen."

somehow, your heart hurts when he breaks into a smile

"i’m glad." he says, like a weight’s been lifted off his chest

he probably already knows what happened

he knows himself best, after all

it’s not like you expect the child in front of you to be able to see through aventurine’s act

but they’re one in the same

that reckless abandon and affinity to games of chance didn’t come out of nowhere

you’re fairly certain he has his own guesses as to what happened to that "mister"

"do you know where the really cool mister is now?" kakavasha asks, looking at you with the most innocent gaze you’ve ever seen. "is he doing well?"

you can’t help but hear the subtext in his words, and you let out a soft snort. 

it’s such a "him" thing to do.

"i don’t know," you answer honestly, for you really don’t know. "but what i am certain of… is that he is not doing too badly."

you take note of the portal that slowly appeared in the middle of the stage. a picture frame, a crack, and hands prying that crack right open. 

you look into the distance, past the slash, past penacony, into the stars

"he’s alive," you say, "he’s living. will live."

you snap yourself out of your trance and look at the child next to you

"i’ll look after him, don’t worry."

you hope those words could be some sort of reassurance to him

"promise?" he offers you a pinky. "pinky promise?"

that’s cute

a quick image of others seeing you making a pinky promise flashes before your eyes

but what’s more important than the present?

"pinky promise." you hook your pinky with his. "i’ll make sure the really cool mister lives well."

kakavasha finally notices the portal, and he realizes it’s time to go home. he’s stayed out for too long, and now his family wants him home.

wherever home is to him, anyway

how do you even go home through a portal in a dream bubble

ever considered that maybe it’s better if you didn’t question everything

you let him drag you towards the portal

he doesn’t want to say goodbye to you quite yet

he’s pretty interested in this tall, scary person who isn’t actually scary at all

and he really wants to become friends with you (more like spend more time with you)

but he really needs to go, before his parents start to worry

you understand, of course you do, with how he’s fidgeting and glancing between you and the portal

and the face of a kid who’s just been told their playtime is over

so you nudge him a little, hoping that it’ll prompt him to go

are you surprised when it doesn’t work? not really? me neither

he refuses to let go of your hand

like legit just does not, even if both he and you know he has to

what can you do in such a scenario???

nothing’s prepared you for a silent tantrum

can you even call it a tantrum??? 

quick, come up with something!

alas, it doesn’t feel right to simply wave and part ways

"young kakavasha." you kneel down and unwrap your scarf from your neck. "take this with you," you say as you wrap the fabric around him, paying the strange feeling of exposing your scales no mind. you open your mouth to elaborate, but your words die in your throat. 

kakavasha looks at you; he doesn't need to crane his neck for once, and he flinches from the foreign feeling of your fingers ghosting ever so slightly against his face. for how much you’ve taken care of him while he wandered around the theme park, you’re still only a really kind stranger. nowhere close enough to be giving each other gifts.

"it gets cold at night," you say, finally cracking a tiny smile for the child before you, your hand landing on top of his head gently. "you’ll at least be warmer this way."

you watch kakavasha’s bewildered expression as he touches his new scarf, feeling the smooth fabric and how oddly chunky it feels looped around him. it isn’t a bad feeling, not at all. it’s more like a big hug, the sort that scares away the monster under the bed and wards off nightmares.

"thank you…" he mumbles, still dazed and taken by the new addition to his limited wardrobe. he lifts his face to look at you, taking note of your iridescent scales and your soft gaze. he beams, a grin so bright that it ignites even your inhuman heart. "i’ll treasure this! it feels so nice… thank you so much!"

"mm. go on, now." you nod, and you nudge him towards the portal. "don’t keep your family waiting."

kakavasha blinks at you. "you’re not coming?" he asks, tilting his head to the side innocently. 

"unfortunately." you beckon him forward and give him a small kiss on the top of his head before you stand up fully. "if fate shall have it, though… i suppose we will meet again."

"sis has always said that i’m blessed with fortune!" kakavasha almost jumps to grab onto you, but he just misses your shoulders by a hair. "see you next time!"

he spends a good minute waving at you before he turns around to leave. somehow… you feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. an inexplicable wave of melancholy washes over you like frigid waves on a windy day, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

you watch the child until he disappears into the frame, and you don’t look away for another minute.

"see you, kakavasha."

[rmadridcore]

Wild Day In

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Summary: You and Jude babysit your friend’s hyperactive 5 year old, battling snack mishaps, a bubble-filled bath explosion, and a mini tornado of energy.

Word Count: 3.9K

Masterlist

Author’s note: Heyyy 🤍 I was in the mood for fluff overload bc this week was a fever dream and soo much happened and none of it was good 😭 sooo here is a cutesy fic I wrote very quickly. Hope you’ll like it & don’t forget to tell me your thoughts! 🌸

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Jude is, without a doubt, one of the most considerate people you’ve ever met. He doesn’t just listen — he hears you. He’s thoughtful, always taking your perspective into account, and when it comes to making decisions, your opinion carries an almost sacred value for him. But, and this is a big but, sometimes the man is as stubborn as a remote control that refuses to work until you smack it just right.

Enter today’s situation.

Your friend called you in desperation, asking for a huge favor. She and her partner were off to a wedding, and their regular babysitter had fallen through. Would you and Jude be able to babysit her 5 year old son, Ollie, for the entire day and night?

Now, Ollie is an adorable little boy, the kind who can charm anyone in seconds. You and Jude had spent plenty of time with him before, and you both adored him, but an entire day and night? That was an entirely different ballgame.

You couldn’t say no. How could you? Ruining your friend’s plans wasn’t an option, and besides, how bad could it be?

When you told Jude about the arrangement, he seemed oddly enthusiastic, flashing his trademark grin. Jude loved kids, and Ollie was no exception. But that’s where his stubborn streak kicked in.

Ollie, bless his heart, was a handful. Hyperactive, tireless, loud, and joyful in a way that only 5 year olds can be. A sweet little menace, in other words.

You had begged Jude to ask his mom or your mom to help out, just in case things got overwhelming. But Jude? Absolutely not. He flat-out refused.

“We’ve got this,” he said, as if the two of you were seasoned parents. “It’s one kid. How hard can it be?”

No matter how many times you tried to change his mind, he was dead set on the idea of having Ollie all to yourselves. And, eventually, you caved. It’s just one day, you reminded yourself. What could possibly go wrong?

As you rearranged the cushions on the couch for the hundredth time, anxiously waiting for Ollie to arrive, you threw out one last Hail Mary.

“We can still call your mom, you know? Her experience would be pretty useful right about now.”

Jude, cool as a cucumber, flashed you a grin. “Y/N, you’re worrying too much. We’re going to be fine.”

Fine, you thought, eyeing him like he’d lost his mind. Sure, taking care of a hyperactive five year old for 24 hours was no big deal — if you were, say, a superhero. But realizing you weren’t going to win this battle, you let out a resigned sigh and went back to fluffing pillows.

The doorbell rang, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Hi there!” you greeted Ollie once you opened the door with a wide smile as he launched himself at your knees, hugging them tight like you were his long-lost best friend. Your friend followed, looking both relieved and grateful as she set Ollie’s overnight bag on the floor.

“You guys are lifesavers. Seriously, thank you so much for watching him.” She placed a hand over her heart like she might cry with gratitude.

“No worries,” you said, giving Ollie’s fluffy hair a quick ruffle. “We’re going to have so much fun, right Ollie?”

Jude, standing tall behind you, added with a confident nod, “We promise he’ll still be in one piece when you get back.” You shot him a quick, anxious glance as your friend let out a nervous laugh.

“Just... try to keep him away from sugar before bed. He’ll get... well, crazier than usual.” She gave you instructions.

With a final hug for Ollie and another round of heartfelt thank-yous, your friend headed out the door, promising to keep her phone on 24/7, “just in case.”

You shut the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, steeling yourself for what was to come.

When you returned to the living room, Jude and Ollie were already on the couch, flipping through kids' channels. Jude turned to you with a deadpan expression.

“Can a 5 year old watch Goodfellas?”

You burst out laughing but quickly realized from his face that he was, in fact, being serious. “No, Jude. Absolutely not. 90s movie about mobsters is not suitable for a kindergartener!”

Jude shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

The afternoon, thankfully, went off without too much drama — at first. Jude and Ollie settled on watching PAW Patrol for a solid 20 minutes before Jude, ever the athlete, decided to take Ollie outside to teach him a few football tricks.

It started off perfectly. They passed the ball back and forth, Ollie giggling with every kick. But then, ten minutes in, disaster struck. Ollie, in a burst of over-enthusiasm, kicked the ball with every ounce of strength his tiny body could muster... right into Jude’s crotch.

Jude dropped to the ground in agony, his face contorted in pain as he clutched himself. “I’m fine,” he managed to croak out, though you weren’t so sure.

Meanwhile, Ollie, oblivious to the catastrophe he’d just caused, ran around the backyard, laughing like a mini maniac. Football wasn’t distracting him — it was fueling him.

And that’s when you realized: this kid loved to run.

Like, really run.

He was a blur of energy, darting around the yard with Jude in hot pursuit, though Jude was limping slightly from the earlier injury.

You, on the other hand, could barely keep up. At some point, you dropped down onto the grass, panting for breath, your sides aching.

“How is he still going?” you wheezed, watching as Ollie raced around Jude, who had finally caught up and scooped the boy into his arms.

Ollie hung upside down, laughing hysterically as Jude spun him in circles. Despite the chaos, the sight of Jude with Ollie, both of them laughing and carefree, made your heart swell. Exhausted as you were, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched them. Jude, for all his stubbornness, was in his element, and seeing him like this, with a kid who adored him, was enough to make your heart race for a completely different reason.

After a solid hour of chasing the little whirlwind around the backyard, you finally managed to corral him back into the kitchen.

“Okay, buddy,” you said, leaning down to Ollie’s eye level, your tone hopeful. “How about a snack now?” Surely, after all the running he’d done, he’d be exhausted and ready to wind down.

“Yeah! Snack time!” he cheered, still bursting with energy as his little arms flailed in excitement. He darted into the kitchen like his life depended on it. You exchanged a look with Jude, who simply shook his head, a mix of admiration and disbelief on his face.

“How does he have this much energy?” you whispered, half to yourself. Ollie’s endless stamina was slightly terrifying but also ridiculously adorable. Jude, ever the optimist, scooped Ollie up and sat him on the kitchen counter.

“Alright, little man. What’s it gonna be? Cookies, fruit, or a sandwich?” Ollie tapped his chin in exaggerated thought, his face scrunching up like he was about to make the most critical decision of his young life.

“I want a peanut butter sandwich!” His eyes lit up, and just as you were about to reach for the bread, he added with the utmost seriousness, “But I want to make it myself.”

You and Jude exchanged another look, the same thought crossing your minds. This could either be the cutest bonding moment, or a disaster of epic proportions. Given Ollie’s track record for chaos, you were leaning toward the latter.

You hesitated, trying to find the words to suggest otherwise. “Are you sure we should—” Before you could finish, Ollie hopped off the counter and dragged a chair over, determined to prove his culinary genius.

His little legs struggled to climb up, but he managed with the confidence only a 5 year old could have. You and Jude watched in amusement as he grabbed the loaf of bread with two hands and tossed it onto the counter, a few slices falling to the floor in the process.

Jude discreetly reached for the peanut butter jar, loosening the lid before handing it to Ollie, so that he wouldn’t struggle with opening it.

“Alright, chef,” Jude said with a smirk, glancing at you.

“Let’s see what you’ve got.” Ollie stacked the slices of bread in a crooked pile, beaming like he’d just created a masterpiece.

“First, you need bread,” he said, his little voice full of authority. Jude chuckled, trying to stifle his laughter. “Looks… great.” Ollie then opened the jar of peanut butter with ease, thanks to Jude’s secret assistance, and proudly held up a butter knife that was far too big for his tiny hands.

With the precision of a wrecking ball, he began smearing peanut butter onto the bread — or rather, onto the counter, with a few globs landing on the bread by accident.

“It’s perfect!” Ollie announced, a glob of peanut butter now stuck to his cheek, completely unaware of the mess he was making.

Jude bent down to inspect the "masterpiece" with exaggerated seriousness.

“Wow, this looks like a real chef’s special. What do you think, babe? Should we open a restaurant?”

You snorted, crossing your arms. “Oh, absolutely.”

But Ollie wasn’t done yet.

“Wait! We need juice!” He hopped off the chair and sprinted to the fridge with the speed of a mini Olympic sprinter.

In his excitement, he grabbed a juice box, squeezing it so hard that juice sprayed everywhere — his shirt, the counter, and even Jude’s face.

“Whoops!” Ollie giggled, looking completely unfazed by the chaos.

“Whoops is right,” you muttered, grabbing a towel to clean up the sticky mess while Jude stood there, wiping juice from his face with a defeated look.

He shook his head, now fully laughing. “This is going great.” You tossed the towel at him, grinning.

“You’re cleaning this up, by the way.” You took Ollie’s sticky hand and led him off to change his shirt.

When you came back, the little boy proudly sat on the counter with his lopsided, half-smeared sandwich in hand.

“Here! Try it!” he demanded, shoving the sandwich toward Jude. “I made it special for you!”

He glanced at you with mock horror in his eyes, clearly torn between supporting Ollie’s culinary adventure and protecting his taste buds.

“Special, huh? Well, I’m honored,” Jude said, taking the smallest, most hesitant bite he could manage.

You watched, thoroughly amused.

“Go on,” you teased, eyes twinkling. “It’s a chef’s special.” Jude struggled to chew the sticky mess, his voice strained as he forced out, “Mmm... delicious.”

Ollie beamed with pride. “Told you! I’m a chef!” You burst out laughing, patting Jude on the back as he finally swallowed.

“You’re a brave man.”

“Anything for you, chef,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek, only for you to wipe a smudge of peanut butter from the corner of his lips.

The little boy, satisfied with his work, hopped off the counter and ran off to the living room, leaving the kitchen a sticky, peanut-butter-coated disaster.

You both stood there for a moment, surveying the damage. The counter was smeared with peanut butter, the floor stained with juice, and somehow, there was still a glob of peanut butter in Jude’s hair.

“This might’ve been a bad idea,” Jude sighed, tossing the towel over his shoulder, but the fond smile on his face told you otherwise. You nudged him playfully, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Admit it, you’re having fun.”

He looked down at you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “With you? Always.”

By the time bath time rolled around, you and Jude were already feeling the effects of a full day of babysitting. Ollie had run circles around the both of you, literally, and now it was time to tackle what could be the most unpredictable part of the night. You knew one thing for sure: getting a hyperactive five year old into a bath was going to be anything but peaceful.

Jude clapped his hands together. “Alright, little man, bath time!” he announced, flashing Ollie a wide smile. Ollie’s eyes widened like you’d just suggested the most absurd thing in the world.

“But I don’t need a bath! I’m not even dirty!” he protested, looking down at his dirt-streaked knees and peanut butter-stained shirt with a completely straight face.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure that peanut butter in your hair says otherwise.”

“No way,” Ollie argued, puffing out his chest. “Peanut butter is for eating, not for washing off!”

Jude knelt down to his level, trying his best to reason with the kid. “Come on, buddy, how about we make it fun? You can bring your toys, and we’ll have bubbles!”

“BUBBLES?!” Ollie’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning. “Okay! But I want a lot of bubbles!”

You grinned, grabbing the bubble bath solution from the cupboard. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll give you more bubbles than you’ve ever seen.”

With that promise, Ollie finally agreed to the bath, darting up the stairs with the same boundless energy he’d had all day. You and Jude followed close behind, exchanging amused glances.

Once you reached the bathroom, Ollie was already busy picking out which toys were worthy of accompanying him into the tub. Jude turned on the water, adding a generous amount of bubble bath until the tub was practically overflowing with fluffy white bubbles. Ollie clapped his hands in glee, bouncing on his toes as he watched the bubbles multiply.

“It’s like a cloud!” Ollie exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“More like a bubble avalanche,” you said, watching the bubbles cascade over the edge of the tub.

Ollie started stripping off his clothes — his shirt getting stuck over his head, turning him into a giggling mess as he tried to wriggle free. Jude stepped in to help.

“Alright, into the tub you go,” Jude said, lifting Ollie up and plopping him into the sea of bubbles.

Within seconds, Ollie was completely submerged, only his head and a mountain of bubbles visible above the surface. He giggled as he started splashing around, sending bubbles and water flying in every direction.

“Ollie! Gentle with the splashing!” you warned, dodging a particularly large splash that just narrowly missed your face. Ollie grinned mischievously. He threw a handful of bubbles at Jude, who was standing just a bit too close. Jude wiped the bubbles off his face, grinning.

“Oh, you want to play it that way, huh?” He grabbed a cup from the counter and scooped up some of the bathwater, threatening to pour it on Ollie’s head. Ollie shrieked in delight, ducking beneath the bubbles as Jude pretended to chase him with the cup.

“You two are going to flood the bathroom!” you said, laughing as you grabbed a towel to try and catch some of the water splashing over the edge of the tub. It was no use — by now, half the bathroom floor was soaked.

“Gotcha!” Jude finally managed to pour the water over Ollie’s head, earning another round of giggles from the little boy.

But then Ollie went quiet, his eyes narrowing as he smirked up at you. “Y/N, now it’s your turn!”

Before you could react, Ollie launched a fistful of bubbles right at you, hitting you square in the chest. You gasped, trying to look stern, but you couldn’t hold back the laughter.

“Alright, that’s it. You’re in trouble now!” You scooped up a huge pile of bubbles and gently tossed them at Ollie, who squealed in delight as the fluffy foam covered his face. Jude watched with a grin, clearly enjoying every second of the chaos.

“I think we’ve lost control of the situation,” he joked, shaking his head as more water sloshed onto the floor.

“Oh, we definitely have,” you agreed, but honestly, you didn’t mind one bit. Ollie’s laughter was contagious, and seeing Jude play along, completely carefree and happy, made your heart swell.

After what felt like an hour of splashing, giggles, and what could only be described as a bubble war, you finally managed to get Ollie cleaned up. He sat in the tub, looking at you with wide, innocent eyes as if the last hour hadn’t been complete chaos.

“Okay, time to get out now,” you said, reaching for a towel.

“But I don’t wanna get out! The bubbles are still here!” Ollie protested, scooping up another handful of bubbles. Jude knelt down beside the tub, giving Ollie a smile.

“We can have more bubbles next time, buddy. But if you don’t get out now, we won’t have time for a bedtime story.” Ollie’s eyes widened again at the mention of a bedtime story.

“A story?! Okay, okay, I’m getting out!” he said, quickly standing up and letting you wrap him in the towel. As you dried him off, Jude stood back, admiring the aftermath of what could only be described as a hurricane of bubbles and water. He grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You smiled up at him, leaning into his embrace as Ollie, wrapped in his dinosaur towel, skipped out of the bathroom, still buzzing with excitement.

“You sure you’re still up for that story?” you called after him, watching as he practically ran toward the living room. Jude looked down at you, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you think? You ready for round two?” You sighed dramatically but couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “I’m always ready if you are.”

With Ollie freshly bathed and wrapped in his cozy pajamas, you and Jude settled him onto the couch for what was promised, a bedtime story. His boundless energy had finally started to fade, though his excitement for the story was still evident in his wide eyes and toothy grin.

“Alright, buddy. What story are we reading tonight?” you asked, sitting down on one side of the couch as Jude took the other. Ollie squirmed in the middle, his little legs kicking restlessly as he looked up at you both, clearly relishing the attention.

“The dragon one! The one with the big, scary dragon!” Ollie announced, bouncing a little as he said it. Jude grabbed the book from the table, flipping through the pages dramatically.

“Ah, the one with the scary dragon. I see you like living dangerously.”

Ollie’s eyes grew wide, and he giggled. “I’m not scared of anything! I’m a superhero, remember?” He flexed his tiny arms, making you and Jude chuckle, referring to the superhero game he had made you play with him earlier.

“Of course,” you said with a grin. “Now let’s see how you handle dragons.”

Jude opened the book and began reading in an exaggerated voice, using different accents for the characters, making Ollie giggle uncontrollably. Every time Jude mimicked the dragon’s deep, growly voice, Ollie would cover his mouth in awe, eyes wide, but clearly loving every second of it.

You couldn’t help but watch Jude in admiration. He was amazing with kids, and it made your heart swell seeing him like this; so gentle, so fun, so effortlessly caring.

You caught yourself thinking about what he’d be like as a dad, the thought sneaking into your mind and making you smile to yourself.

“And then,” Jude continued, building up to the story’s climax, “the brave knight faced the dragon, sword in hand, ready to protect his kingdom!” His voice was filled with drama, causing Ollie to sit up straighter, his eyes glued to Jude.

“Did the knight win?” Ollie whispered, completely engrossed in the story.

Jude winked at him, lowering his voice. “What do you think, champ? Do you think the knight was brave enough to win?” Ollie nodded vigorously.

“Yeah! He’s brave, just like me!” Jude smiled, continuing the story with a heroic flair.

“The knight swung his sword and with one mighty swoop, the dragon was defeated!” Ollie clapped his hands, grinning from ear to ear.

“I knew it! The knight is the best!”

As the story reached its happy conclusion, you noticed Ollie’s eyes starting to droop, his earlier excitement finally giving way to sleepiness. His little body leaned against Jude, snuggling into his side as his breathing slowed.

“Looks like the knight’s biggest battle is staying awake,” you whispered, chuckling softly.

Jude smiled down at Ollie, gently closing the book. “Yeah, I think our superhero’s finally ready to call it a night.”

With Ollie half asleep, Jude carefully lifted him in his arms, cradling him with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

You followed them to the guest room, watching as Jude tucked Ollie into the little bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin. The little boy stirred for a moment, mumbling something about dragons before he drifted off completely.

You stood at the door, your heart practically melting at the sight. Jude leaned down, brushing a gentle hand over Ollie’s head before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

As you tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind you, the silence of the house settled in. For a moment, neither of you said anything, both still caught up in the sweetness of the scene you’d just left behind.

Finally, Jude broke the silence, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You know, I could get used to this.” You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat.

“Used to what?” He shrugged casually, but there was something deeper in his eyes.

“This. You, me, taking care of a little one. It feels... nice.” Your chest tightened, warmth flooding through you at his words.

You leaned against the wall, trying to act nonchalant even though your heart was pounding. “You think?”

Jude nodded, his gaze soft and full of affection. “Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Ollie’s a handful, but... I don’t know. When it’s us, it doesn’t feel hard. It feels like... like we could do this one day. For real.” You felt a lump form in your throat, not from nerves, but from the overwhelming sweetness of the moment.

He wasn’t just talking about babysitting — he was talking about a future. A real future. And that thought made your heart feel so full it could burst.

You smiled up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’d make a pretty great dad, you know.” He reached out, gently pulling you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

“Only if I get to do it with you.” Your heart swelled, the simplicity and sincerity of his words filling you with a quiet kind of happiness.

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

In that moment, as the two of you stood there in the quiet, everything just felt right. You could see it so clearly. The future you’d both only ever hinted at, the one you were both starting to realize you wanted. And as you stood there in each other’s arms, you knew without a doubt that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

[daylite-writes]

“A healers Blunt Teeth” (Pt 2) ft. Capitano x Healer!Reader

(Pt 1 here)

He did take you back to Snezhnaya with him, leaving you alone in a manor. The discomfort you feel at not having received a single letter since he departed was surely not from you loving him or anything. Surely.

cws: very mild yandere, mild cultural insensitivity (on behalf of staff), and misunderstandings.

1.6k words

~~~

You didn’t expect the… luxury.

You suppose you should have.

He was a harbinger after all. When he stepped foot in Snezhnaya—you under his arm, of course—you didn’t get the best first impression. Cold, snowy forests of pine with the ridges of icy mountains lining the horizon. But the deeper you ventured into his home, the more his influence became apparent.

Entire villages greeted the expedition with deep bows and offerings of food and housing. You slept in beds made for the cold, among rabbit fur and goose down.

He never batted an eye, but that wasn’t unusual. Be it dry dirt or luxurious bedspreads, Capitano was content.

You expected him to continue onwards with you, towards the Tsaritsa’s palace, the expedition's final destination you’d heard mentioned a thousand times in his meetings.

Evidently, you were wrong about that part, being as you were lounging in the bay window Capitano’s manor, alone except for a staff of loyalists.

As your… Partner? ‘Boyfriend’ maybe—no, that was far too juvenile. Not master either, he hated that term, and it no longer adequately described the complex relations between you two.

Being Capitano’s someone-of-significance had him deciding to dump you into a remote manor somewhere in Snezhnaya, leaving with a quick kiss and a promise to return home after his meeting with the Tsaritsa.

He dragged you all the way to Snezhnaya, and didn’t even let you go with him to the palace.

Angrily—and yes, it was anger. Not loneliness or longing or any other emotion the young maids would describe it as, accented by dreamy sighs as they theorized about you and his’ beautiful courtship—you tore the page of sheet music from the book propped in front of you.

Music was too hard and it made your fingers hurt.

You’d spent the better parts of two weeks in the manor, and it was boring. You were out of your depths, the maids knowing more about noble and elite life than you ever imagined anyone could know.

One of the maids said it herself not long after your arrival. “You’re nothing like what I imagined Capitano’s fiancé would be. Of course, none of us really know his preferences. But if not a warrior, I’d thought you may have been a noblewoman, knowledgeable about music or literature, or perhaps cooking. I once served a noblewoman who made very exquisite cuisine.”

“We’re not engaged.” You’d said, a bit breathless as she tightened the corset.

The other maids who’d been fluttering about shushed her a bit too aggressively for you to consider it noble.

You’d ignored them, until one of the shier ones spoke up. “If I may ask, my lady… how did you two meet?”

“I was a healer in Natlan working for a group of bandits. He won me by right of combat, and eventually we began… well.” You waved your hand, summing up the obvious physical and emotional relations with proper censorship but no denial. “I’m not quite sure what to call the two of us.”

The maids were stunned, and you remembered that such things as that weren’t normal in other nations. You opened your mouth, hoping to amend their opinions of you, but one of them spoke first—

“Oh so he saved you! How romantic!”

The session devolved into a series of awws. They giggled and tousled your hair as they fixed it up, rambling aloud about the romantic scenario.

It took everything in you to not take it personally. To remember that these were the daughters of affluent families who could not afford to marry off another daughters, but could land them a cushy spot working under a harbinger in a non-combatant role. Who probably spent their youths reading fairy tales instead of fighting or healing the way you had.

You rolled your eyes, letting the girls have their fun. These young women were your only friends in this new place after all. There was little point to complain.

~~~

It was clear Capitano would be coming home soon.

There was a certain buzz among the staff. Tasks that were once laxly carried out only when there was time for it were now being performed rigorously and thoroughly. Floors once mopped were now being scrubbed by servants on their hands and knees. Libraries lightly dusted once or twice a week were practically being done by the hour.

There was a buzz among your hand maids as well. They became very, very particular about your appearance. Every day your hair was to be done up in what you can only assume are traditional northern styles. The soft comfortable outfits you’d taken preference to gently batted aside and replaced with expensive tailored dresses, with beaded bodices and tulle that reached partway down your legs.

Refusing such things also made your hand maids very nervous. A lot of ‘are you sure’-s and ‘but my lady!’-s.

From this, you quickly figured out that he’d be back any day now.

So, when you spotted a horse drawn carriage trotting up the path to your manor from a window, you knew what expectations they had.

Greet him at the door, preferably warmly, probably with a kiss, and then follow him around like a lost puppy.

You rolled your eyes before going back to failing to play the violin.

“Um, miss?” One of your handmaids said softly. “Your… Lord Harbinger Capitano seems to be arriving.”

“Mm.” The violin screeched at you as you clumsily played it.

“I… alright. Miss.”

It wasn’t that you hated Capitano. Or that you didn’t want to see him. You were a bird in a golden cage, yes, but Capitano never bothered to close the door, and you never bothered flying out. It was just—

He didn’t even write to you.

The violin made quite an annoying sound as you pressed a bit too hard on the bow, its wavering screech the perfect sound to accompany the grind of your teeth.

Sure, he was undoubtedly busy, but that didn’t erase the embarrassment you’d experience every time you had to ask if any mail for you—any letters from him—came through, only to be told not so much as a word had come from his lord. Didn’t erase the feeling of being some discarded housewife while your lover galivants around the country without you—

The violin had picked up a sharp, angry tune as you played the song through all your little mistakes, not stopping even as you played incorrect notes or lost your place, you could hardly hear it through the rant in your head.

“I see you’ve picked up the violin.” Him.

Immediately, your song stopped. You hadn’t realized he’d entered, hadn’t realized you missed his voice.

“L-Lord Harbinger!” You maid squeaked, bowing. Capitano must have made some motion to her, as she left the room quickly after.

He stayed silent for a moment, and you stayed turned towards the window. “… why are you upset with me?”

“I’m not.”

“Why are you upset with me.” He repeated again, and you suddenly noticed how much closer he was to you. You didn’t hear the footsteps as he loomed over your shoulder.

“I…”

“Has the accommodations been insufficient? Was the staff unpleasant? I’ll have them dead in an instant if they were who upset you against me.” His hand, gloved, tilted your head back by the chin so you had to look up at him. Into the dark maw of his uniform.

“No Captain…”

“Then why? Why have you refused me the right to be greeted home by my woman? The right to see you as I’ve longed to? There must be something wrong, considering you haven't so much as responded to a single letter-”

“You wrote me?” You said all too quickly when you heard the words come from the man over you. Distantly, you chastised yourself for the almost desperate way you asked it. Like a woman starved for water.

He stilled, putting together the pieces easily. “Ah, so that’s what it is. Yes, I wrote to you many times, my healer.”

“I didn’t receive any.”

The hand that was lifting your face up shifted to the side, idly messing with a lock of your hair before cradling the crux of where your jaw met your neck. “I am realizing that now.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I did, greatly.”

You paused a moment, the small sparks of spite that once had you melted away partially, leaving you feeling a bit silly. “I…”

“Don’t apologize. This is someone else’s fault, I’ll deal with them later.” He said, moving around you to your front, and kneeling down before you.

The hand cradling your pulse slipped to the back of your neck, lightly pulling you into him. You kissed him through the gaping maw of his mask. It was rough, as though it was the single thing he’d been wanting for weeks. His hand tightened, pulling your hair by the roots to expose your neck. You gasped when you felt his lips on your jaw, traveling down to your throat.

It was a while before he pulled back, satisfied at the aggravated red skin his attention left. Most likely so that the staff could see it and know.

You stared at him, chest rising and falling quickly, but not scared. He seemed happy, or perhaps, at peace, as he stared back.

A polite, quiet knock on the door finally brought his gaze away from you. He spoke, loud and clear, “Yes?”

“Dinner is set for you the Lord and his Lady.”

He rose, standing to his full height before extending a hand to you. “You’ll be joining me I hope?”

“… yes, my lord.” You took it.

~~~~~

The og is pretty far back and i am grappling with the fact i probably should make a masterlist (i dont wannaaa) but i hope ya'll enjoy this <3