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pedgito · 10 months ago

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𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄, 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐖 | Joel Miller x reader

summary | set in the world of handsome, dirty, rich. joel is celebrating your one year anniversary with a few surprises. alternatively: how fast can ali turn a new pedro pic into a fic? also, bless @undercoverpena —she set me on a dangerous path with this one.

content warning | sugar daddy!joel, reader has no description other than a vague mention of a dress, thigh riding, borderline public sex/voyeurism, the use of a certain undergarment for pleasure, fingering, established relationship, sneaking around, subtle dom!joel & brat!reader, pure filth i do not apologize, un-beta'd

word count — 2.7k

He’s rented out the entire restaurant. All for you.

It doesn’t dawn on you at first, but as the primly dressed workers attend to you at the door, carefully removing the coat off your shoulders while another guides you toward the table in the corner of the restaurant—the rest of the space was dimly lit, except here. The overhead light casted a warm but pale yellow glow down on the table. Two plush, leather chairs that you were sure cost at least half of your monthly rent—not that you paid that, either. Joel had made sure of that.

You tried to deny it in the beginning, to fend off his constant willingness to make sure you didn’t have to stress or lift a finger when it came to finances—that you could focus on your degree without any outside distractions.

Your relationship was still something kept between the both of you, a sacred bond in a bubble that hadn’t been popped yet. It was perfect, too perfect. And you refused to give that up just yet.

“Really?” You ask, scrunching the dress up near your hips as you take a seat in the pulled out chair, careful that it wouldn’t ride up too high, but it seems futile as the moment you both hit the seat, Joel’s palm is settling between your legs. His palm curls around your left thigh, a comforting gesture he did whenever he had a moment to touch you—it doesn’t move, doesn’t linger too close or too far, it’s just there. You rub your thumb over his knuckles and smile.

“I shoulda told them I wanted the center table, huh?” Joel joked, flashing that perfect smile, his cheek dimpling. “Only the best for my girl.”

“Oh, because the empty restaurant you rented out wasn’t enough?” The playful resonance in your tone makes Joel chuckle, but quickly fades as he sees one of the several waiters approaching.

He orders some fancy bottle of wine you can’t pronounce and you can’t help but stare. He’s so…dressed down, compared to you. A simple white shirt, black jeans that he’s worn on several occasions but always hugging his thighs in a way made your mouth fucking salivate.

You weren’t even five minutes into this date and you were ready to cut short and run, saddle up over his lap in the driver’s seat of his truck and sink down on his cock for a quick five minutes of pure bliss, feeling the full extent and intensity of his love for you in the way he let his guard down in those moments.

The second you’re alone he’s moving his hand from your thigh to the nakedness of your neck, sliding around the back and guiding you toward him, a surprisingly gentle kiss against the column of your throat followed by a soft, “Never enough, baby.”

God, he was in a mood today.

It was nearing a year of making…whatever this was official. It wasn’t asking for your hand in marriage or even to be his girlfriend, just a silent agreement that you both wanted whatever it was that you felt for each other, regardless of labeling it. And that was what worked the easiest for you both. You tried not to think about it too often, the outside distractions and betrayals you were allowing to happen when buying into his attraction to you.

But, right now, that was the last thing on your mind.

Joel does all the ordering—a three course meal of chef’s choice that came with a hefty tip.

So, they were very good at leaving you alone. Just as Joel had requested.

“Did you like your gift?” Joel asks after some time, using the cloth napkin to wipe at his mouth, peering up at you as he forks another piece of food into his mouth.

Gift. You huff a soft laugh through your nose behind closed lips.

“Oh, those—” You roll your eyes playfully, poking at your food with your fork, “yeah—of course.”

And you were absolutely wearing them, just like he asked.

A sleek, lace pair of panties with a matching bralette, but the very obvious bump of a vibrator tucked away in the gusset of your underwear was a dangerous, dangerous game. They didn’t come with a remote but you knew exactly where it was, watching the smile on Joel’s face grow more relaxed as he was on his third cup of wine, but somehow more drunk on the sight of you.

“Wearin ‘em?” Joel asks, just to be sure. “Like I told you?”

“Why don’t you find out, Mr. Miller.”

He hadn’t heard that in a minute, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as he reached blindly, but with careful precision for the remote in his pocket.

The buzz startles you at first, but it was faint. You could ignore it easily, so you did.

“Eat up,” You motion to him and his forgotten third-course, a too sweet dessert that neither of you could finish on your own, but you were willing to do anything to distract him, “don’t be rude.”

Joel quirks an eyebrow up and chuckles, “Mouthy tonight? Alright.”

It was a specialty of yours, knowing just the right amount of brattiness to get under Joel’s skin.

The vibration picks up without warning, Joel now leaned back in his chair, left leg crossed over right and his hands resting in his lap, pointedly placed over the obvious growing bulge in his jeans that he was attempting to hide.

You hand grips the table in shock, jostling the silverware slightly.

Another soft laugh from Joel and you shoot daggers in his direction.

“In public? Seriously?”

“We’ve done worse,” He shrugs, “remember that night down at the beach over the summer?”

You did. Very well, in fact.

He had fucked you so hard the ache didn’t go away for a week, right there, on the beach—a group of college kids partying not even less than 20 yards away. You knew they were watching and maybe it was the result of genuine, human curiosity. But, the whistles and shouts—it sent a bolt of excitement down your spine, causing you to squeeze around Joel’s cock as he pumped into you, coming inside of you with your face pressed into the sand.

It wasn’t your proudest moment, but damn did it make the ache between your thighs so much worse as the memory floods your mind and Joel seems to notice you becoming spacey, nudging it up a few more notches and that causes a seering look of warning, teeth gritting as you gripped for his thigh, blunt nails digging in while your other snuck between your thighs, gripping hard on your dress as you squeezed your legs shut against your hand.

“Come here,” Joel says as he beckons with two fingers, curling them in a way you were all too familiar with.

“Joel, not here—” You stress, looking around at the vacant restaurant.

You couldn’t even hear them moving around in the kitchen anymore. You turn back to Joel and he’s still waiting, daring you as he scoots his chair back a few more inches. He offers a hand, gently removing the one gripping his thigh and you feel your body moving against your better judgment, so willing and pliant to his touch.

He maneuvers you until you’re straddling his thigh, hand gripping your waist as he forces you to take a seat, the broadness of his thigh, the taut muscle against the press of the vibrator as it forcefully dug into your already swollen clit. You gasp, gripping the tablecloth in desperation.

“Go on,” Joel encourages, “right here—I already know what you want, baby.”

You used to think he only enjoyed the idea of you using anything but his cock to get yourself off, but you quickly realized that it was your favorite thing to do—it was the only time he got cockier than usual, more teasing, seeing how easily riding his thigh would unravel you. It felt primal, that need for release and it was building in your core, that tingling heat lingering in wait.

“If they come back—”

“They won’t,” He stresses, his voice gruff and low as a palm spreads out over your back, the other one finding its home on your thigh, so dangerously close to the hem of your underwear underneath the silk dress, “slipped them a note—”

“Don’t tell me you t-tipped them so you could get your fuckin’ rocks off in the middle of din—” Joel increases the vibration another level and your jerk, holding back the strangled moan that dared to escape as you cant your hips against his thigh, “fuck, Joel. This is—”

Joel shushes you, fingers crawling up your back until he can grip the back of your neck, holding it tight as he pulls you up, head falling back instinctively against his hand, “Ride it, sweetheart.”

You can’t help the subtle rock of your hips, eyes scanning the room anxiously—you’ve never been this intimate in public, at least not with the looming chance that anyone could walk in and see you; arms spread out to grip the table cloth and Joel’s hands all over you, leaning forward over his leg. The table provided enough cover that unless someone decided to step within a few feet, they couldn’t see anything.

Still, your heart raced.

“Come on,” He teases, the subtle twang to his voice that had you clenching around nothing, the constant hum of the vibrator tucked away in your panties doing nothing to help quell the ache, “I rented out this restaurant for us, asked them to give us some privacy and you’re still feelin’ shy?”

“If someone were to walk by, Joel—”

Joel grips at your neck tighter suddenly, pulling you until his chest is against your back.

“I’ll turn that thing all the way up if I need to and it’ll stay on ‘til we get back home.”

His place, he means. He often called it home because it had become that to you. You had your own place, your own things, but you still found yourself there more often than not. A drawer in his closet tucked away with your belongings, your toiletries tucked away in a cabinet so Sarah wouldn’t ask questions. You’ve become masters of this game of hide and seek, managing to keep this entire thing quiet for close to a year.

Maybe it was just dumb luck.

He adds emphasis on his statement as his other hand slips between your legs and under the silk hem of your dress, palm pressing flat against your cunt and leaving you no room to wiggle away, hips jerking against his touch as you moan out, your hand slapping over your mouth at the sound.

“I’ll give you the next sixty seconds, baby,” Joel warns, glancing down at the shiny Rolex on his wrist, “if you don’t come, it’s gonna be a hell of a ride back.”

As if to make you suffer more, he slips a finger between the wet, sticky fabric of your underwear and over the line of your cunt, dragging through your slick and slipping a finger inside of you wordlessly, angling the vibrator stuffed inside the gusset of your panties against your clit with perfective precision—feeling the throb of your pussy around his fingers, the tight clench of your walls, you find yourself rocking against his thigh mindlessly, desperate to chase that relief.

You couldn’t breathe—the feeling caught in your throat as he lifted his leg only a few centimeters higher, foot raised off his heel, your dress slipping up slightly higher under his grip and allowing him a clear view of your ass, the delicious curve and the black lace that clung to your skin. He could pull his cock out and get himself off there within just a few minutes if he really wanted to and slip himself inside you right as he came, knowing how much you enjoyed being stuffed full of him.

“Attagirl,” He commends you, a grin growing on his face that you unfortunately can’t see, but you feel it—his gaze, the hot press of his hands on your body, “just like that.”

Your eyes fall closed, heading bowing as he releases his hold on your neck to grip at the fabric bunched at your waist, slipping his hand over bare skin, fingertips pressing into the flesh of your waist, aiding in the hurried rock of your hips. The feeling of fullness comes from his fingers when he slips in a second, squeaking out a quiet “Fuck,” as your hand slips, slapping against his other thigh for support, accidently brushing your fingers against the remote tucked away in his pocket and dialing up the vibrator to the max, unknowing that it was only a level off.

“‘’S right there, darlin’,” Joel softens his tone, picking up the pace of his fingers fucking into you, his grip on your hip tighter, undoubtably ruining his jeans for the night, but he clearly didn’t mind.

The feeling builds—the quick and constant stimulation does nothing to help, sending you flying over the edge with a gasp, crying out Joel’s name as he keeps you stuck, pulling out his fingers in an instant and turning off the vibrator, leaving you to wade through the orgasm untouched.

“There you go, baby,” He coos, “makin’ a goddamn mess on my jeans, aren’t you?”

You nod, feeling dizzy as your head spins and your body goes light, whining through the sensitive friction of the denim against your cunt and Joel slides a comforting hand up your spine, rubbing against the middle of your back.

“Still with me, baby?”

You nod quietly, raising your head up slowly.

Joel chuckles lowly, patting gently at your thighs until you turn sideways in his lap. He smiles softly at the disheveled state of you, much less composed than a moment ago.

“What was that about?” You ask after a moment of gentle care, his lips pressing against your neck, chin, before pressing against your lips in the most tame kiss he’s ever given you.

He’s checking in.

“Wanted to cross somethin’ off my list.”

You raise your eyebrows in pleasant surprise, a small laugh bubbling from your chest as you adjust your dress over your chest, “A list? Like…for sex?”

Joel shakes his head, pulling his lips together in a nonchalant frown.

“No—well, there’s some of that on there but…things I wanna do with you.”

“Oh,” Color you intrigued, you push one of his imperfectly styled curls back behind his ear, “care to share?”

Joel swipes a dollop of whipped cream on his fingers and shakes his head, “Where’s the fun in that, baby?” You shrug as he presses the cream to your lips and you open dutifully, allowing him to press the whipped sweetness against your tongue, mixed with the taste of yourself as you close your lips and suck just for show, kissing his fingertip teasingly as he pulls away and pinches playfully at your thigh.

You laugh airily, reaching for your phone on the table as you turn to him, pulling up your camera.

“Wait—you really have to see the look on your face,” Instead of keeping the dumbstruck look on his face, he brings his hands to his mouth in the act of blowing you a kiss and you snap the picture with a smile, letting out a startled yelp as he tips you back slightly, nearly into the table as he angles your body to allow his lips to touch your ear.

“Take those off,” He tells you, “otherwise I’ll be tempted again.”

“No self control, Mr. Miller?”

Joel catches your chin between the thumb and pointer of his left hand, cutting off the small giggle that starts to escape your mouth and his eyes are pensive for a brief moment before softening, “Do as I say, darlin’. We got a long drive back.”

You nod, feeling his thumb swipe over your bottom lip before he’s helping you off his lap, swatting at your ass playfully as your feet hit the floor.

“Yes, sir,” You reply flippantly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek before you disappear.

Joel smirks to himself as he reaches for his wallet.

You were right, without a doubt.

Joel had no self control when it came to you and he quickly realized that he’d be willing to do just about anything to make you happy.

divider creds: @/saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #my writing

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msbigredmachine · 4 months ago

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The Boy Next Door: Chapter Five

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 8.9k

TRIGGER WARNINGS: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence, smut

Poster made by me. Credit to the owners of the other pics and gifs.

A/N: So, as you all know, harmshake is on an extended hiatus from tumblr. This means I'll be handling the story henceforth. We were both able to draft and flesh out the chapters and storyline together, giving me an easier job of putting the finishing touches on each one and uploading them. I hope you've all enjoyed it, we both had a blast doing this together and hope you continue to support us and TBND!

Enjoy chapter 5! 😬

The glow of Ivy’s bedside lamp bathed golden light on her chocolate skin as she reclined against the pillows of her window seat, glass of port wine in hand, pepperoni pizza on a paper plate, her full lips curved into a teasing smile.

Across the street, in her direct line of sight, Roman lounged in a leather seat by his open window, a small plate of buffalo wings within arm’s reach on the sill. The soft yellow light from his room reflected off his sharp features, highlighting the intensity in his gaze that made her pulse quicken as they watched each other from a pleasantly short distance.

“Dude, you’re lucky I like you,” she said, biting into her pizza. “I don’t usually share my date nights with someone who isn’t even in the same room with me.”

Roman’s deep laugh rumbled through the phone. “Oh, baby girl, you don’t just like me—you adore me. Own that shit.”

She rolled her eyes, her grin widening. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“And you love that about me,” he countered smoothly, swirling his whiskey.

She paused at his words, her heart skipping a beat. Love? It wasn’t the first time Roman’s confidence caught her off guard, but this? This was different. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, the weight of the word lingering in the air between them.

“How’s Zaia doing?” he asked, as if sensing her thoughts, smartly steering the conversation away, but not before leaving Ivy with the faintest flutter of something unspoken.

“She’s doing better—just a cold, nothing too serious. She’s in her room sleeping, but she was miserable all day, poor thing. We’ve been stuck at home together today, but I don’t mind. She’s my baby. That’s what mamas do,” she said.

Roman’s voice softened, full of admiration. “I know you do your best with her. I see it every day. You’re an incredible mom, Ivy.”

She felt a flutter in her chest, his words hitting her deeper than she expected. There was something about the way he just…cared, even from afar. She took a sip of wine, savoring the smooth taste. “That's so sweet. Thank you, baby,” she answered with a warm mix of emotion and affection. “You seem to be making this whole long-distance date night thing work.”

Roman’s gaze never wavered from hers as he leaned back in his seat, his posture casual yet commanding. “I make it work because it means I get to see you. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

She felt the sincerity in his words, the weight of the connection between them growing stronger by the second. “And I’m lucky to have you around. I like being around you,” she said softly, her eyes locked on his.

A small, teasing smile played at the corner of Roman’s lips. “And I like you in my t-shirts. A lot,” he added, “You look better in them than I ever could.”

Her fingers instinctively brushed the oversized t-shirt she’d claimed during one of their late-night trysts. She leaned closer to the open window, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Glad you feel that way, cuz it’s mine now. You ain’t never gettin’ it back.”

His gaze darkened, and even through the phone, she could hear the change in his tone, low and suggestive. “You can keep it…as long as you tell me what you're wearin' under it.”

Her stomach tightened at the suggestive question, heat pooling low in her belly. She took a slow sip of her wine, her voice laced with playful mischief.

“Nothing," she responded airily.

The silence that followed was charged, Roman’s sharp intake of breath echoing through the line. Eyes darkened, he leaned forwards, as though trying to close the distance between them. “Prove it,” he rasped, that baritone of his smooth, dangerous, and inviting all at once.

Ivy took a slow breath, the challenge of his words igniting something bold in her. With a sly smile, her fingers slid beneath the hem of the t-shirt, pulling it off completely. Her smooth, naked skin shone even brighter beneath the lights.

Roman’s sharp exhale sent a thrill through her. “God, you’re exquisite,” he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and hunger. “So fucking beautiful, baby girl.”

His words made her heart race. She knew he was more than just attracted to her—he was captivated. And she was just as entranced by him.

“I wanna see more. Touch yourself for me, Ivy,” he commanded.

Her breath hitched, her pulse racing as he unraveled her carefully maintained composure. “Only if you do the same,” she challenged, her voice trembling with anticipation.

The faint rustle of fabric on his end sent a shiver down her spine. “I already am,” he confessed, his words molten heat.

Sure enough, his dick was out of his shorts, legs spread far apart, his fist moving up and down the hardened length as he reclined in his chair. "Like what you see, baby?" he asked, his body heating up when she licked her lips.

"Oh yeah. That's it, big boy. Stroke it for me," she encouraged him, her voice rough with need. “Fuck…I want that big beautiful dick in my mouth, baby," she murmured.

“Just your mouth?” Roman challenged, “Your turn. Show Daddy how wet you are."

Putting her phone on speaker and setting it in front of her, she spread her legs, giving him a full view of her goodies. She pushed her two middle fingers between her folds, gasping from the shock of the intrusion. "Unnnh, fuck," she thrust the fingers in and out of her, imagining it was Roman’s long, thick dick testing the stretch of her walls, and pulled them out, moaning as they came away glistening with her arousal.

“Jesus, Ivy, you’re drippin’…Put that shit in your mouth, baby.”

Completely turned on, she did as he ordered, hearing his groan over the phone as she slowly sucked her taste off her fingers before slipping them back inside her pussy, working them faster. Through the cloudy haze of pleasure, she caught the sweet sight of Roman’s large hand twisting faster around his large length, his lips parted, panting, the depths of his desire flooding her ears and flooding her pussy even more.

"Shit, that's beautiful, baby girl. Keep fucking your pussy like that..." He watched her head tilt back, groaning along with her as he stroked himself with the same speed as her pumping fingers. The intimacy of the moment swallowed them whole, the distance between their windows evaporating as their breaths quickened in unison.

Ivy let herself go, surrendering to the way he made her feel—desirable, fearless, alive. For once, she didn’t question the intensity of their connection or the way he effortlessly stripped her bare, emotionally and physically. She only knew she wanted more of this man, Roman Reigns. Probably forever.

Consequences be damned.

Gemini sat at her desk, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She had never expected to be the one to deliver this news to Ivy. When Kofi—Angelo’s cousin—contacted her, she hesitated. She and Ivy hadn’t spoken in weeks and the idea of revisiting the painful subject of her friend’s baby daddy made her stomach churn. Yet here she was, sitting behind the polished wooden desk in her office, holding a letter from Kofi and a copy of the will that had been left behind after Angelo’s sudden death.

The door creaked open, and Ivy entered, her face drawn with exhaustion, still in her scrubs from her shift at the hospital. The tension in the air was thick, but Ivy’s eyes softened when they met Gemini’s, though she masked it quickly with a sharp, questioning look.

“You said it was urgent,” Ivy said, her voice guarded, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

Gemini gestured to the chair across from her. “Please sit.”

Ivy hesitated but lowered herself into the chair, her eyes flicking from Gemini to the papers on the desk. She looked like she was preparing for bad news, and Gemini couldn’t blame her. The last time they’d spoken, their argument had been raw and emotional, and the distance between them had only grown since.

“Angelo’s cousin Kofi…reached out to me,” Gemini began, her voice steady despite the knots in her stomach. “He wanted me to be the one to handle his affairs. Babe, Angelo had a will—and he left a few things behind. Things for you and Zaia.”

Ivy’s eyebrows furrowed as she leaned forward, curiosity mixed with wariness. “A will? I—” She shook her head, the disbelief evident in her expression. “I didn’t know he had anything left. After everything, I didn’t think he’d care.”

Gemini exhaled, her eyes dropping to the document in front of her. “I didn’t think so either. But there’s more here than I expected. It’s all in the will.”

She slid the papers across the desk. “He bought a house, Ivy. A house for you and Zaia. It’s fully paid for. There’s also a trust fund set up for Zaia—enough to cover her education, and a bit more for whatever else she’ll need. And a piece of local business—his cousin Kofi’s company, actually. It’s a stake in something stable. You’ll have a steady income from it.”

Ivy blinked, her lips parting slightly as she processed the information. “A house? He...he bought us a house?” Her voice cracked slightly as if the weight of the words was more than she could bear.

Gemini nodded, watching Ivy carefully. “He left you a ring too—something personal. Family heirloom, the documents say.”

Ivy’s eyes welled with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. She wasn’t going to cry in front of Gemini—not after everything. “I didn’t know…” Her voice trailed off, filled with confusion and a hint of anger. “Why didn’t he ever say anything? He never told me any of this!”

Gemini leaned back in her chair, her gaze hardening despite her sympathy. “I’m not sure why he didn’t tell you. Maybe he thought you’d be upset or maybe he just didn’t know how to say it. We both know he wasn’t the best at things like that.”

Ivy’s jaw tightened as she set the will back down on the desk, looking at Gemini with a mixture of frustration and sadness. “Yeah, that sounds like him,” she muttered, turning away to look out the window. “I never understood why he couldn’t just…Why everything had to be so damn complicated.”

Gemini swallowed, at a loss for words. A rarity. Ivy shook her head, the pain clear in her expression. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel about any of this.”

“I get it, babe. I really do. He was a pain, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. But—” She caught herself just as she saw Ivy’s expression harden again, closing herself off.

“I don’t need you to tell me what to feel, Gem. You’ve done enough of that already,” she said, her tone more brittle than before.

Gemini sighed, leaning forward, her own frustration bubbling to the surface. “Ivy—”

“I gotta go,” said Ivy. “Thanks for informing me. I’ll figure it out.”

Before Gemini could say anything more, Ivy had already stepped out, the door clicking shut behind her. She sat in stunned silence, staring at the empty room. She had wanted to say more, to reach her somehow, but the words felt trapped in her chest. The rift between them continued to germinate, and it seemed no matter how hard she tried, Ivy was slipping further away.

Gemini leaned back in her chair, exhaling heavily in frustration, her fingers tapping rapidly on the desk. The silence in the room felt heavy with the unshakable tension between her and Ivy, the walls they had both built too high to break down easily.

Needing to clear her head, she decided to leave for her lunch break, grabbing her coat and turning off the lights. The moment she stepped outside the building, the air was cold, the late November weather biting at her skin. She wrapped her coat tighter around herself and began walking to her car, but a strange feeling tugged at her—a sense of being watched. She glanced over her shoulder quickly, but there was no one there.

The street was empty, save for a few passing cars.

Shrugging it off as paranoia, Gemini continued walking, but the feeling persisted. Every step she took felt heavier, more deliberate, as though something—or someone—was just behind her. She stopped at the intersection, glancing behind her again.

Nothing.

She shook her head and continued walking, but her unease only grew stronger, a cold shiver crawling down her spine. When she reached her Mercedes, she fumbled for her keys, quickly unlocking the door and sliding inside. The sense of being followed still gripped her chest, but when she checked the rearview mirror, there was no one there.

She exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel as she stared out the windshield. “I’m losing my shit. Just great,” she muttered to herself, starting the engine.

But as she drove off into the night, the nagging feeling that she wasn’t alone never quite left her.

Roman leaned back in his leather armrest, the soft expensive material creaking under his weight, his eyes fixated on the darkened windows of Ivy’s house. The house he had once watched from the shadows, studying her every move. A fond, fruitful memory.

He remembered the first night he’d arrived in the neighborhood—the house still empty, the moving truck yet to arrive. The thrill of anonymity had been intoxicating. It had all felt too easy, too perfect, like a symphony waiting to be orchestrated. His house, still almost empty that first week, had been the perfect backdrop to his plans.

He first sighted her in her backyard with little Zaia, the girl running around with their dog, Duchess, all carefree in the evening sun. There was something about the way she doted on her daughter, something warm, almost maternal, that captivated him. And he knew from the start, from the very first moment he saw her, that he would make her his.

But it wasn’t just the motherly affection that drew him in. No, it was the way she carried herself, the subtle grace she exuded. She was beautiful. Perfect face and banging body, with curves her wrap dress woefully failed to hide. He could tell there was a strength beneath her calm exterior, a depth that no one could see unless they truly watched. And he had watched her. Night after night.

At first, it had been about learning her routine—how she left for work, when she came home, the time she spent with Zaia, and the occasional moments when she was home with Angelo. Those nights, when he’d stalk the house like a predator in the shadows, the soft flicker of her bedroom light barely visible. The arguments. The passionate reconciliations. The first time he watched them fuck, a jealousy unlike anything he’d ever felt had ripped through him. Animalistic, raw. It had enraged him, the way Angelo’s touch seemed to have ownership over Ivy, the way she would give herself to him.

Roman gripped the glass harder, his dick rising at the more pleasant memory of watching Ivy, all alone this time, sprawled across her bed as she pleased herself, her body writhing on her soft sheets. It was the night after they first met, and he’d wondered if it was him she was masturbating to. He’d imagined claiming her fully, not just with his eyes, but with his hands, his mouth, his dick, buried in her wet. That jealousy, that hunger for her, had grown, and when Angelo put hands on him, he took action. He was an easy target, as were the brake lines of that jalopy he drove…Roman had made sure there was no coming back from that. That punk bitch was gone, and Roman seized the moment and stepped in, comforting Ivy as she grieved, his presence a soothing balm to her wounds.

Now, she was all his. The fire they shared, the passion—it was everything. Roman had never known anything like it. Each time he lay beside her, the warmth of her body pressed against his…each time he was inside her…he felt…whole. He had won. He had her, and together, they would be the perfect family, the one he’d always dreamed of. Him, Ivy, and Zaia.

But there was yet another fucking thing that threatened to ruin it all: Gemini.

His blood boiled at the thought of her. Poking around, asking questions, getting too close to the truth. Her scathing words had echoed relentlessly in his head since the night of her party, each syllable sharper and more grating than the last:

“I see right through you. You’re not who you pretend you are. I can feel it. You’ve got Ivy and everybody else fooled, but I’m not buying it.”

The nerve of that bitch.

Roman’s jaw clenched as he replayed her smug expression, the way she had stood close, practically taunting him. She hadn’t flinched, hadn’t look away, like she knew she was poking a bear and relished the risk. Gemini wasn’t like the others—she was too observant, too bold. That made her dangerous. Too dangerous to keep around. She didn’t know who she was dealing with. Roman had dealt with people like her before, but this one was persistent. Too persistent.

His mind flashed to the moments when he’d seen her lingering near Ivy, always so observant. So fucking nosy. Well, no more.

She had to go.

Roman leaned forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing. His plan was already in motion. It would be simple, like all the others. He would make her disappear too, and no one would find her.

He glanced over at the clock, the quiet ticking of time mocking him. Soon. As soon as he dealt with Gemini, everything would be perfect.

Roman’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. He had Ivy and Zaia now, and nothing and nobody would take that from him. Ever.

He stood, his fingers tapping against the window frame as he stared out into the darkness, knowing that soon, very soon, his family would be complete.

And that meddlesome bitch?

She was just another loose end. One he would tie up.

Probably literally.

The morning light filtered through the wide windows of his pristine kitchen island, glinting off his untouched cup of espresso. His focus, however, was entirely on the MacBook before him. Leaning forward, his eyes narrowed like a predator studying its quarry, watching the grainy surveillance footage play out on the laptop screen.

Gemini moved about her bedroom, oblivious to the camera’s hidden gaze. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he traced her movements, his fingers idly tapping the screen. She thought she was the hunter, investigating him—but Roman always stayed one step ahead.

Night after night, he would watch her scour through case files, searching through news reports, and any scrap of information to uncover his identity. Her determination was unlike anything he had encountered before, and it unnerved him in a way few things ever had. He needed to act before she finally found something and took it to Ivy—or worse, someone else. Like that lame ass five-0 she was fucking, Hayes.

He had to hand it to her. Though he had perfected this dance over the years, she was different. Her confidence infuriated him, and some part of him wanted her to know, in her final moments, that she’d been right about him all along.

The smart TV on the kitchen wall murmured in the background, showing a clip of Montez, the distraught fiancé of Bianca Belair who was still missing, pleading for her safe return. Duchess was fast asleep in the conversation pit a few feet away. But it was the lazy clink of cutlery that had his attention. His gaze flicked to his girlfriend, who sat quietly across from him, her fork absently tracing circles through the barely eaten scrambled eggs on her plate. She had been distant for days, her mind clearly elsewhere. Something was weighing heavily on her.

“You’ve been quiet,” Roman said softly, his voice low, filled with a tenderness that Ivy had come to trust. “What’s going on, babe?”

Ivy hesitated, her stomach knotting the way it had for the last few days, since she’d learned of Angelo’s surprising bequest. The weight of it was heavy on her chest and she had kept it to herself until now, unsure of how to even begin processing everything. Roman had been a constant presence since Angelo’s death—strong, supportive, and patient—but this was something that still made her feel vulnerable.

Roman shut his laptop and motioned her over. “Come here.”

She made her way over to him, allowing him to pull her onto his lap, his forearms winding protectively around her. His lips pressed against her shoulder. “Talk to me,” he whispered.

Ivy sighed heavily and bit the bullet. She’d been carrying this burden alone long enough. “Angelo…he wrote a will,” she began, her voice faltering as she struggled to find the right words. “He…he left things. A house, a trust fund for Zaia, some business stake—things I never thought he’d care enough to leave behind.”

Roman raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, watching her closely. He knew that whatever Angelo had left wasn’t just about the material things. He could tell that it was something deeper—something Ivy was still trying to understand herself.

“I know what this is about,” he said quietly. “I know it’s not just about what he left. It’s about him—about everything he kept trying to do. Trying to come back into your life even when you told him no.”

Ivy let out a long, quiet breath, her gaze dropping to the counter. “He couldn’t just let it go, Ro. He couldn’t accept that we were done. That we been done for a long time.” Her voice faltered, but she quickly steadied herself. “He kept trying, always trying to force himself back in. And now…now, he’s gone, and he’s left me this…this mess.”

Roman’s gaze never left hers. “I know he wasn’t easy on you, and I know he made things complicated, even when you were doing your best to move forward.” He gently reached out, placing a hand on hers. “But I also know you loved him, at least in your own way. He was Zaia’s father. And now, with all this…stuff he left behind, I can’t imagine how hard it is for you to figure out how to feel about it.”

Ivy’s face was full of vulnerability. “He was a good father to his baby. He really was. I can’t take that away from him. But he kept trying to get back into my life. He was always coming around, always expecting me to give him another chance. And now—after he’s gone—I’m left with all this guilt. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be grateful or angry.”

Roman’s hand tightened around her waist, a reassuring squeeze. “You’re allowed to feel both, Ivy. You can be grateful for the good he did for Zaia, for the father he was, while also being pissed at the way he treated you. You don’t have to choose.”

Ivy swallowed hard, nodding as the weight of his words settled into her chest. “I just…I don’t understand why he didn’t do this sooner. If he really wanted to fix things, if he really wanted to show he cared, why didn’t he do it when I needed him to?” Her voice was a whisper now, as if the thought itself was too much to bear. “Why did he make everything harder for me?”

“Maybe he didn’t know how,” Roman mused. “A lot of people—especially people like Angelo—they don’t know how to express what they really feel until it’s too late. Maybe he didn’t realize it until the end. Maybe he didn’t know how to fix what was broken between you two.”

Ivy shook her head, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped. “But that’s just it, Roman. He never listened. He never saw me. He always just assumed what I wanted, what I needed. And now—now he’s gone. And I’m stuck with all this…uncertainty. I’m stuck with a little girl who won’t understand any of it. And I can’t even process any of this because of the way he kept pulling me back in.”

She had fought so hard to let go of the past, to move on from the chaos Angelo had brought into her life. It wasn’t fair that after all that struggle, this new development was now forcing her to confront everything she had tried to forget. She was trying to build a new future for herself, for Zaia…and possibly Roman…but this…this was a lot to carry.

“Hey,” Roman said gently, squeezing her hand, “Baby, I know you’re angry, and I know you’re hurt. But you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me. You don’t gotta carry all this by yourself. We’ll figure it out together, one step at a time.”

Ivy let out a long breath, her chest rising and falling. She felt exhausted, like the weight of everything had finally caught up with her. But hearing Roman’s words, feeling the warmth of his hand on hers, she knew she wasn’t alone anymore. Maybe she couldn’t control everything—maybe she couldn’t change what Angelo had done—but she could still move forward. She had a choice. And she had Roman.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as she leaned into him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Roman smiled softly, caressing her face. “You’ll never have to find out. I’m here, Ivy. I’m here, no matter what.”

Ivy met his gaze, the conflict in her heart still there, but the steady, grounding presence of Roman gave her something she hadn’t had in a long time: a sense of peace. She didn’t have to have all the answers. Not yet. But with him by her side, perhaps she could start to heal.

Roman’s hands gripped the steering wheel, a million thoughts plaguing his mind as he navigated his Range Rover down the suburban streets enroute to Zaia’s elementary school. The sunlight streamed through the windshield, bouncing off his dark Ray-ban Aviators and giving his already cold demeanor an eerie, impersonal sheen. Ivy sat beside him, chattering away, little Zaia in the backseat singing along to the music, some song from Gracie’s Corner, blaring from her iPad. Roman had tuned them both out completely, their cheerful voices nothing but background noise to the storm that had been raging in his mind since Ivy dropped that bombshell on him.

Damn you, Angelo!

He was seething. That fucking bastard’s will felt like a final act of sabotage, the ghost of the past reaching out from beyond the grave to pull Ivy back into a world of chaos he’d worked so hard to shield her from.

But he wasn’t just angry at Angelo. No.

He was furious with Gemini for delivering the news. For helping tear open old wounds Ivy had spent years trying to heal from, all in the name of business. A burning rage surged through him. Like Angelo, Gemini had become another anchor Ivy couldn’t free herself from. Another reason for Roman to despise that bitch.

A sudden burst of repetitive, high-pitched music jolted him from his thoughts. Zaia had restarted the same insipid song she’d been playing since they got in the car, the tinny melody grating against his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Roman’s fingers tightened on the wheel, a muscle twitching in his jaw. The sound seemed to fill every inch of the vehicle, piercing through the thin layer of control he’d been holding onto.

Zaia continued to sing her little heart out as the cheerful tune played on. It was relentless, drilling into Roman’s skull. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to keep his composure. He glanced in the rearview mirror, catching her innocent, happy expression, one he usually appreciated but now he just couldn’t stand the sight of.

“Little lady,” he began, his voice carefully even, though the tension brewing in him laced every syllable, “you don’t got any other songs?”

Zaia beamed at him. “But it’s my favorite! Don’t you like it?”

He hated it. The tune quickly became a nightmarish loop, and for the first time in hours, his thoughts of Gemini faded—not from guilt or doubt, but from sheer, unrelenting irritation. The song pounded on, and Roman’s fingers tightened on the wheel, his knuckles stretching unnaturally against the black leather.

On the third replay, he snapped.

“Man, turn that shit off!” His voice was a whip, sudden, loud, and vicious.

The car fell into a stunned silence. Zaia’s lip quivered, her breathing pattern changing, quickening, before she burst into tears.

“Roman!” Ivy exclaimed.

“What I do? I just told her to change the song!”

“I want my daddy!” Zaia wailed.

“That’s too damn bad,” Roman shot back coldly, his deep voice dripping venom as he twisted his head to glare at her. “You ain’t never gon’ see that piece of shit no more cuz he’s dead!”

Ivy’s heart stopped. She turned in her seat, gaping at him in complete shock. “Roman! What the hell is your problem?”

Chastened, he opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, absolutely livid. “Stop the car. Now.”

“Ivy, I—”

“Stop the damn car!”

Roman exhaled heavily, muttering under his breath as he pulled the SUV to the side of the road. Ivy didn’t wait for the car to come to a full stop before she threw the door open. Her legs were shaky, but her fury propelled her forward. She yanked open the back door, gathered Zaia and her backpack, and marched down the street toward the school building. At the entrance, she set Zaia back down on her feet, but the little girl refused to let go of her, clinging to her neck like a lifeline.

The sight of her daughter’s distress pierced something deep within her soul. Kneeling down, she held her tightly, letting her hold on to her for as long as she needed, even as the school’s morning bell rang around the building, signaling the start of the day.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Ivy murmured softly, her voice laced with guilt. She rubbed Zaia’s back in slow, soothing circles. “Please don’t cry, my snuggle bug.”

Zaia hiccupped through her sobs, her voice trembling and barely audible. “I don’t want Roman to be mad at me, Mama.”

The innocent remark hit Ivy like a punch to the chest, momentarily stealing her breath. It dawned on her that her little girl had grown attached to the big man. She struggled to find the right words to reassure her. “He’s not mad, sweetheart. He’s just…had a tough morning.”

Zaia’s sniffles grew louder, her fresh tears spilling over. She clung to Ivy tightly, her small fingers gripping almost desperately at her mother’s scrubs.

“I miss my daddy,” the little girl whimpered, her words a fragile echo of her broken heart.

“I know, sweetie. I know,” Ivy replied, her voice wavering as she fought back her own tears. She gently cupped Zaia’s face and wiped away the wet streaks with her thumbs. “It’s okay to miss him. But guess what? He’s watching over you in Heaven. He'll always be in your heart, okay?”

But even as she tried to console her daughter, Ivy’s mind raced. Zaia’s distress gnawed at her. How could she send her baby into school like this? Would it even be fair to ask her to focus, to pretend everything was fine when it so clearly wasn’t? The uncertainty weighed heavily on Ivy’s shoulders, even as she pulled Zaia into another hug, pressing a soft kiss to her curls.

“Little lady?”

At the sound of his voice, Ivy glared up at Roman’s approaching figure, his face a mix of remorse and something she couldn’t quite name. She tensed, shielding her baby girl with her body. “What do you want?”

“I just…I want to apologize,” he said, his expression soft and remorseful. “Ivy, please. I was wrong. Let me make up for it.”

Ivy studied him warily before giving a reluctant nod. “Fine. But you’d better mean it.”

She didn’t take her eyes off Roman as he crouched down to Zaia’s level, his chiseled face drawn with regret. “Hey, little lady,” he said gently, his voice soft, almost tender. “I am so sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to, but I was wrong to do that. Can you forgive me? I’ll never do it again, I promise.”

Rubbing her nose, Zaia looked to Ivy for approval, and Ivy, despite her better judgment, gave the go ahead with a short nod.

“Okay. I forgive you,” Zaia answered, her smile small and watery.

Roman smiled back, his features awash with relief as he hugged her tight. “Thank you, Zaia.” He tapped her little nose playfully. “Tell you what, how about we get some ice cream after school? Just you, me, and Mommy. Wherever you want, and whatever flavors you want. That sound good?”

It was a winning bargain, as Zaia instantly brightened and she nodded eagerly, throwing her arms around his neck in another big, warm hug. Waving goodbye to the two adults, she spun around and zoomed off through the doors of the school. Roman smiled at her retreating figure, but when he turned back to her mom, the look in his eyes was more pleading than apologetic.

Ignoring him, Ivy kept her distance all the way back to the car. The moment the doors were shut, she exploded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Roman? She’s a child!” she yelled.

Roman’s jaw ticked. He rubbed his face and exhaled a shaky breath. “You…you wouldn’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand? You fucking yelled at my daughter! You think I’m gonna let that slide?” she snapped, her anger barely contained. “Gemini warned me about this. To think I keep defending your ass, only for her to be right. This is how you really are!”

“No it’s not, I swear!”

“Then tell me what’s wrong! You've been acting up all week! Something is up with you and I wanna know what it is! And don’t lie to me!”

He hesitated, then dropped his gaze. “Okay then. Here’s the truth.” He swallowed hard. “Today…marks a year since…since Elesha died.”

Ivy blinked, her fury momentarily giving way to surprise. She hadn’t expected that. Her scowl softened, though her wariness persisted. “I’m sorry, Roman. I can’t imagine how hard that must be. But that don’t mean you get to take it out on Zaia or be an asshole to me. If being with me, being with us, is triggering you, just say so. If it’s too much—”

“It’s not too much,” he said quickly, his voice breaking. “Ivy, I swear to you, it’s not. Don’t ever blame yourself for my fuckup. I’m just…I’ve been trying, really trying, to process it all.” He looked at her, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Everything’s happened so fast. Losing her, moving here and meeting you…My feelings for you are so strong, and it scares the shit outta me cuz I don’t wanna lose you too.”

His vulnerability struck her like a tidal wave, raw and unguarded in a way that left her breathless. Roman looked shattered, the weight of his emotions carved into every line of his beautiful face. She hesitated, her own walls trembling, before gently resting her hand against his cheek. Her voice, barely more than a whisper, trembled with conviction.

“Babe, you’re not gonna lose me. I only just found you,” she said. “I told you before. I’m here for you Roman, just like you are for me. I just need you to stop bottling things up and talk to me.”

A fragile, watery smile curved his lips, but it couldn’t mask the storm raging in his eyes. He leaned into her touch, his forehead resting against hers as though she was the only anchor he had left. For one brief, stolen moment, the chaos around them stilled.

“I don’t deserve you,” he rasped, his voice thick with anguish. “I don’t know how to be without you. You’ve made my life worth something again—you and Zaia. I’m so sorry I snapped at her…Please, Ivy. I know I messed up…Don’t leave me. I need you.”

Her chest constricted, the ache in his voice cutting through her like glass. The desperation in his gaze was a dagger, and despite every reason to walk away, she couldn’t. Because whatever doubts had begun to creep into the edges of her mind paled in comparison to what she was starting to feel for him. She was painfully aware of how hard, how undeniably she had fallen for him too, and it was in equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

Her fingers traced his jaw, her own tears threatening to spill. “I accept your apology,” she whispered, moved enough by the emotions pulsing between them to seal her words with a gentle kiss that tasted of unspoken vows and quiet redemption. “And I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured, kissing his forehead as well, her voice steady even as her heart thundered, even as the doubt lingered. “I promise.”

“You sure you don’t want me to come over? I can leave this function that I’m at. We can just kick it for a lil’ bit.”

Gemini smiled into the phone, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. “Thanks, Melo, but I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“So you don’t wanna see me? Damn, ma,” Carmelo sighed, the smooth baritone of his voice sending a delicious shiver down her spine. She knew he meant well, but the last thing she wanted was for him to worry about her more than he already did.

“Of course I wanna see you. I always do,” she insisted, her voice gentle and assured. “I just don’t want you feeling like you have to drop everything for me.”

“I know I don’t have to,” he replied, his tone laced with a quiet insistence. “But I want to. That’s different.”

She bit her lip, her gaze drifting to the window. The evening’s shadows stretched across her home, her reflection faint against the glass. His words warmed her, tugging at something she didn’t want to admit she’d missed—feeling cared for, wanted...a lover’s touch.

“I appreciate it,” she said softly, letting her guard down just a little. “But I promise, tonight is just about me catching up on work. Nothing to stress over.”

Carmelo was silent for a moment, and she could almost picture the wheels turning in his head. “A’ight,” he said finally, though the hesitation in his voice lingered. “But if anything changes—if you need me, or if you just feel like some company—holla at me and I’ll be right over. No questions asked.”

Gemini couldn’t help but smile again. He always knew how to walk that fine line between protective and overbearing, never crossing it, even when she pushed him away. “I’ll hold you to that,” she teased lightly. “But seriously, don’t let me mess up your evening. Have fun.”

“You know my nights ain’t the same without you, right?” His voice was teasing, but she could hear the undercurrent of truth in it. Her stomach fluttered, making her shy in a way only he could.

“You’re smooth as fuck, you know that?” she giggled.

“Nah, I’m just honest. That’s why you like me so much. But I’ll let you get back to it—for now.” There was a smile in his voice now, and it made her chest ache in the best way.

“Goodnight, Officer Hayes,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Miss Beaufort, Esquire. Don’t work too hard now, okay?”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’ll try.” And as the call ended, she found herself staring at her phone, wondering just how much longer she could keep her guard up around someone who made her feel so safe, so…loved.

Sighing heavily, she refocused on the legal briefs and deposition notes scattered across her table. The phone call was a distraction, a brief escape from the mind-numbing class action case she was working on, but boredom gave way to curiosity as a notification popped up in her email, the logo of the dark website she frequented glowing on her laptop screen.

Her gaze was locked on the unopened documents. Tagged Psycho Hottie: The Coral Lake Butcher, the post drew her in with its absurd title. She clicked out of boredom, expecting yet another bizarre story or twisted fantasy from the forum’s strange array of users. Instead, she was staring into the face of someone she knew.

Roman.

There was no mistaking the sharp cheekbones, the slanted eyes, the smirk that always hovered at the edge of his lips. It was him—or at least it looked exactly like him.

Her stomach knotted as she clicked on the article accompanying the sketch. Published two months ago, the headline was simple but chilling:

Her eyes flicked down to the grainy mugshot embedded in the article, and her breath caught in her throat. It was Roman, no question about it. Shorter hair, but the same dark intensity in his eyes, the same chiseled, angular face. But the name was different. Roman Reigns was what Ivy called him. Mateo Hobbs was what the Floridian police called him.

The text beneath the mugshot only worsened her unease.

It has been nearly a year since Mateo Hobbs escaped police custody following his arrest for the brutal murders of his wife, Elesha Hobbs, and her alleged boyfriend, Tama Tonga. At the time of her death, Elesha was four months pregnant.

Witnesses reported seeing Hobbs flee from the Pensacola police precinct three days after his arraignment. He was awaiting formal charges when he disappeared.

Since his escape, Hobbs has been linked to a string of homicides along the Florida coast, with most victims being female sex workers in their twenties and early thirties.

Her blood cold, Gemini scrolled down, and her heart nearly stopped when she saw the photograph of his wife.

Fuck.

She looked just like Ivy.

The resemblance was uncanny—same smooth, deep brown skin, same pretty almond-shaped eyes, same slim thick figure. Roman had a type, it seemed, and Ivy fit it perfectly.

The article went on to describe his other possible victims. Young, beautiful women in their twenties or thirties. Throats slit. The pattern was clear, and Gemini’s mind immediately flashed to Rhea and Bianca.

Rhea, a pregnant woman. Her throat, brutally cut, several weeks ago. Another woman, Bianca, had disappeared shortly after. Probably dead, too. Both of them, as the Hartford Police discovered, were sex workers outside their day jobs, with Rhea an OnlyFans model and Bianca an escort. One woman from Middlesex and another from Fairfax, two towns en route to Hartford, died the exact same way Rhea did a couple of months ago. This felt like the markings of a serial killer, and Gemini had little doubt that Roman—no, Mateo—was responsible.

And then there was Angelo.

Gemini’s hand flew to her mouth as it hit her like a ton of bricks. Angelo had died in a car crash not long after Roman came into the picture. Everyone had assumed it was a tragic accident, but now Gemini could see the truth, almost clear as day. Roman had probably followed Angelo to that bar. Tampered with the brakes that had mysteriously failed.

Roman killed him.

She felt a wave of nausea but pushed it down, forcing herself to focus.

The article ended with a warning:

“Hobbs is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If sighted, do not approach. Contact law enforcement immediately on these numbers...”

But Gemini didn’t have time for law enforcement. Ivy didn’t have time for law enforcement.

Her hands moved on autopilot as she clicked “Print,” the printer spitting out page after page of damning evidence. She grabbed the stack and stuffed it into her bag, her thoughts racing.

“You’re always looking for problems where there aren’t any! Roman’s been nothing but good to me. Just because you don’t trust anyone doesn’t mean I should be the same!”

She and Ivy had barely spoken in weeks, but Gemini didn’t care. Her best friend’s life was on the line. She shoved her phone into her bag and bolted for the door. She had to get to Ivy. Immediately.

Her mind was a chaotic mix of fear and determination. Would Ivy even listen? Or would she laugh off Gemini’s warning again?

It didn’t matter.

She wasn’t going to let Ivy end up like Roman’s wife, like Rhea, like Bianca, all those other women. And she wasn’t going to let Zaia grow up without a mother. Not when she no longer had a father, probably thanks to him.

She’d been suspicious about that monster ever since he stepped foot in Ivy’s house that night, sensing something off about his charm, his intensity, the way he inserted himself so seamlessly into Ivy’s life. And now she knew why.

She had to stop him.

The night air was cold as she stepped out of her house and rushed to her Mercedes. The air outside was eerily quiet. Too quiet. It was then she realized how empty her street was. No, it was more than empty - it was deserted. Worse, she felt like she was being watched even though nobody else seemed to be around. The stillness was oppressive. Not just silence, but wrong silence—the kind that seemed to buzz in her ears like a phantom noise, amplifying every beat of her heart.

And yet…something deep in her gut told her yet again that she wasn’t completely alone.

Gemini glanced down the street again, her unease mounting with every passing second. The dim, flickering streetlights cast jagged shadows that seemed to stretch and reach for her. Uncharacteristically spooked, she started to open her car door.

She froze, her mouth slowly falling open in horror.

Roman stood across the street, mere meters from her home, a black hoodie over his head. He wasn’t moving, but the intensity of his stare felt like a physical force, pinning her to the spot. Gemini’s breath hitched, her body going completely numb with terror. She tried to scream, but no sound came. Her throat was void, and terror was the only thing filling it.

Fuck, the word tumbled through her mind, frantic and desperate, Fuck, fuck, fuck!

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying to God that she would open her eyes and it would be nothing more than a hallucination. Maybe it was a trick of the dim light. Maybe she’d open her eyes and find the street as empty as it had been moments ago.

But when she dared to look again, Roman was moving. Striding towards her with deliberate, predatory determination.

At this, Gemini’s paralysis finally snapped. Her brain finally gave her legs permission to move, and she spun on her heel and bolted, her feet pounding against the pavement as she raced for her front door. Her bag bounced wildly against her side, her breath bursting in shallow, ragged gasps.

The edge of the pathway betrayed her. Her toe caught in the stone step, and she tumbled forward, crashing hard to the ground. A sharp burst of pain flared through her knee and palms as they scraped painfully against the concrete, but adrenaline surged through her veins, propelling her back to her feet.

Her house loomed ahead, so close, but yet so far. She fumbled with her bag, her injured fingers trembling as she rifled through it for her keys.

But Roman was fast. Quarterback fast. In an instant, he was behind her, his body slamming into hers and pinning her against the door with his entire two hundred plus pound frame. Her cheek pressed against the cold wood, causing a strangled cry to escape her lips.

“Where ya goin’, huh?” His voice was deep, terrifying, and far too close to her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. “You think you can run from me, bitch?”

Terror clawed at her throat, but through the fog of panic, she remembered - the can of Mace buried in her bag that Melo gave to her. Forcing herself to concentrate, Gemini discreetly dug her hand into her bag, feeling for the small, cylindrical lifeline.

Roman grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to meet his wild, hate-filled glare. Pain shot through her scalp and tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn’t let go of the Mace.

With a burst of defiance and a quick twist of her arm, she whipped the can up and aimed. A sharp hiss filled the air as the spray found his mark.

“Arrrrgh!” Roman cried out in pain, clutching his face as he stumbled back. His curses rang in Gemini’s ears, but she didn’t waste a second. The keys were in her hand now, and she jammed them into the lock with shaking fingers. The door gave way at last, but just as she made to slam it shut behind her, Roman charged, tackling her to the ground in a vicious spear that almost broke her body in two. The impact knocked the wind out of her lungs, the back of her head hitting the hard floor, and she was sure she was concussed. Roman pounced, straddling her waist, pressing one hand against her throat as he held her down. His face, usually handsome and composed, was like something out of a horror film, his eyes wild and filled with hatred and madness.

There he is…I knew it…

Grabbing Gemini by the hair, Roman stumbled to his feet and dragged her past the foyer, her desperate cries swallowed by the echoing silence of the house. Her nails clawed at his sleeved arms, her legs kicking wildly, the polished floor chafing uncomfortably against her skin. Her struggles were futile—Roman was too strong, his grip vice-like and unyielding. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the blinking red lights that should have been on the overhead cameras were gone. Disabled. By him, surely. He’d been in her house before, probably scouted her out in preparation for this day. Her heart sank as it dawned on her that no one would witness her futile fight for her life.

As they reached the kitchen, Roman lifted her bodily off her feet, throwing her against the counter. Gemini hit the table spine-first, sending her crashing painfully to the ground.

“You just can’t leave shit alone, can you?” Roman snarled, his breath coming out in short bursts, his rage barely contained, “Always sticking your fucking nose where it don’t belong!”

Gemini gasped through her tears, scrambling to get away, but Roman easily caught up to her retreating form.

“I’m so fuckin’ sick of your shit,” he snarled, his voice venomous and trembling with fury as he stomped on her right leg with brute force.

The crack of her bone echoed sickeningly all around the kitchen. Gemini screamed, the sound animalistic and blood-curdling, but it barely registered in the lifeless air. Pain surged through her body like wildfire, reducing her fight to pitiful spasms.

Roman’s handsome face twisted in a grotesque mask of a set and satisfaction. Slipping on a pair of black gloves, he crouched down beside her, tilting his head as though appraising a broken toy.

“Not so mouthy now, huh, bitch,” he taunted.

“P-Please…please don’t do this, Roman,” Gemini sobbed, clutching at her shattered leg.

“Learn to shut the fuck up for once in your goddamn life,” he growled, his voice low and terrifying as he pulled out a knife from his pocket.

The blade flashed in the dim light, and before Gemini could process the motion, the cold steel sliced across her throat. Her scream died a gruesome death, a wet, choking gasp accompanying the blood pouring from the gaping wound. She tried to speak, to beg for what was left of her life, but all that came out was a pathetic, gargled noise.

Roman was on a roll, his chest heaving as he paced in circles around her twitching body.

“Stay the fuck outta my business, you nosy bitch! Ivy is mine!” he roared, pointing at himself. “She belongs to me! Ain’t nobody gon’ take her from me, not even you, you understand me, you-”

Lifting his right leg off the ground, he slammed it back down, a brutal stomp of his foot to her face following each word.

“Worthless!” Stomp.

“Fucking!” Stomp.

“Bitch!”

The awful sound of bone crunching filled the room. When he moved his foot, he saw that Gemini had gone stock-still. Her face was unrecognizable, her blood spreading in dark rivulets across the vinyl plank flooring.

Roman stood over her, his fists clenched and trembling as the red fog of rage cleared from his brain. The silence in the kitchen was deathly, deafening, broken only by his labored breathing. He looked down at the mangled, lifeless corpse, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the mess of bone, flesh and blood pooled around his feet, staining his black Air Forces.

“Goddamn it,” he sucked his teeth, wiping a hand in frustration across his sweaty forehead.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. Gemini was supposed to stay out of it, to leave him and Ivy alone. But her dumbass couldn’t. And now, he had another body to clean up.

But it was worth it, because no one would interfere with their love anymore.

Ivy was all his now. Forever. Just like she promised him.

And he planned on holding her to that promise.

😬😬😬

Thanks for reading! Your replies and reblogs are so much appreciated! Also keep your Asks coming, we’re loving all the theories!

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#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfic #the boy next door #tbnd #harmshake #roman reigns au #roman reigns x black oc #otc #the bloodline

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theplaid-wearingmoose · 11 months ago

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Pic credit: @cupcakeinat0r

Warning: Rough sex, overstimulation, dumbification-ish?, name-calling, breeding kink

It started with you making your way to Miguel's office to drop off your mission report and some food from the cafeteria since you were certain he hadn't eaten today. Just before you reached the door, Lyla appeared in front of you. "Hey girly. You here for the boss?" She asked. "Yeah Lyla, I know he probably hasn't come out for food today. Plus I need to drop off my report." You answered. Lyla gave you a sheepish look. "Ummm just be careful...or maybe come back later? It might be better. He's not doing so hot. It's uh...his time of the month?"

You paused at first. You were so busy taking care of anomalies you forgot to check the calendar. Miguel's spider DNA gave him a mating cycle. The first time had taken you by surprise and your muscles ached for 2 weeks. Since then you'd been careful to time it properly and stretch but saving the multiverse from sudden collapse was becoming more and more difficult lately. You totally forgot about Miguel's "heat".

"Oh...um..maybe I'll still go check on him. Just so I can make sure he doesn't hurt himself." You reasoned to her. Lyla shrugged. "If you say so. Don't say I didn't warn you though, girly." You smiled and waved her away playfully as the door slid open in front of you. Miguel's office felt unusually cold, like he had turned the AC on full blast plus some. You didn't even have a chance to speak before hearing Miguel's voice shouting. "LYLA I told you not to let anyone in here!"

Your spider sense pinged just as you saw one of Miguel's huge monitors flying towards you. "Miguel! What the hell, it's me!" You shouted, catching the monitor before it took you out. The force of it did send you back a couple inches but you were otherwise unharmed. You swung up to his platform and set the monitor gently on the floor. "Oh...I-I'm sorry, hermosa. I didn't know it was you." He apologized. He was hunched over in his chair, his large frame curled almost into a ball. He didn't even look up at you but you could see him tense up as you neared him. "You shouldn't be here, querida. It's not safe. I don't wanna hurt you."

You put your hand on his back and Miguel bristled like a cat. "Amor, estoy serio! If you don't leave, I don't think I'll be able to control myself." He warned, his tone was harsh but also pleading. You stood firm. "I'm not afraid of you, Miguel. And I'm not fragile either. You know I can handle it. It'll hurt you more if you don't." You placed your hands on his shoulders and started to massage his muscles when he shot up from his chair and whirled around to face you. "You don't know what you're asking for this time, querida. I tried to take a suppressor and..it didn't work! It only made it worse." He growled. You could finally take in the sight of him fully as he towered above you. His hair was disheveled and sweaty, his normally maroon-colored eyes were a blazing, almost glowing, red. He was breathing heavily and his hands were clenched in tight fists like he was using every ounce of strength to keep them to himself.

You raised your hand to his face, concerned, but Miguel caught your hand in his tightly. "Miguel-" "Why do you insist on torturing me, amor? Don't you understand that the closer you get to me, the more I'm having to restrain myself?!" He pulled you to him and pressed his nose to your wrist, inhaling deeply. "Dios mio...you smell so sweet, princesa. I bet you taste even better." He growled against your skin. Arousal coursed through you as you felt his hard length press against you. "Miguel...I can take it.." You spoke, trying to reassure him, your voice barely making it above a whisper. He leaned close to you, gripping you by your jaw. "I won't be gentle, hermosa. I can't." He rasped. You nodded and gasped as he began to grind his hips against you. One hand ran up the back of your neck and tangled in your hair. Grabbing a fistful of it, Miguel yanked your head back and latched his mouth to your neck. You cried out as his fangs sunk into your skin, marking you as his. He sucked on your neck before pressing his lips to yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth. His other hand ran down your body, squeezing and groping your flesh as he went. He stopped just under your bellybutton and gripped a fistful of your suit. Your eyes widened as you felt a tug and heard the rip of the material.

You pushed on his chest, trying to protest his destruction of your suit but he grabbed your wrist, pinning it behind you, and smothering your noises with his kiss. Breathing heavily, he released you long enough to growl out "I'll make you another suit, querida" before shredding the material on your chest, freeing your breasts. He wasted zero time sucking one of your sensitive nipples into his mouth before rolling the other one between his fingers. You let your head roll back and threaded your fingers through Miguel's hair. His warm tongue flicked across your nipple, making you whimper in pleasure.

Miguel stood up straight and pushed you back against the table. Turning your body away from him, he got on his knees behind you. "Bend over for me, princesa. Let me taste you." He demanded. You bent over the table, your ass and dripping pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel groaned as he massaged your ass. "Fuck, you're so wet already, amor. You're driving me crazy."

You choked out a loud moan as Miguel shoved his tongue inside you without warning. His hands dug into the meat of your ass as he wiggled it against his face. "Oh f-fuck, Miguel! Your mouth feels so good!" You whined. Miguel hummed as he sucked on your clit and flicked his tongue over your wet hole. Two of his large fingers replaced his tongue inside you and began pumping inside you fast and hard. Your legs were already beginning to shake and you knew Miguel wouldn't have mercy on you just yet. You felt yourself coming undone as he ate you like an ice cream. You couldn't help but rock back against his face, crying out his name as you came on his tongue.

Laughing quietly to himself, he stood and wiped his face before cleaning off his fingers one by one, savoring your taste. He went back to rubbing your clit in circles as he positioned himself behind you. He pushed on your back until you were completely flush against the table. You heard his suit turn off and squirmed against him in anticipation.

A loud scream was pulled from your throat as Miguel fully sheathed himself inside you. Giving you absolutely no time to adjust, he began fucking you at such a rough pace, the monitors began to shake from the force of his thrusts. "Ay carajo, bebita...you're so fucking tight....gonna fill this pussy up so good, querida. You're gonna make such a beautiful mama." Miguel moaned. You couldn't form any words. Every ounce of your strength was going to keeping yourself upright. You gripped the edge of the table and held on for dear life. You could see your face reflected in the monitor in front of you, the orange lights illuminating your fucked out expression. Your lips were slightly puffy from Miguel sucking on them and your eyes were half open. Miguel noticed you looking into your reflection and smirked.

"You like watching me fuck you, amor? You do make such a beautiful sight. You can barely keep your eyes open, can you? Do I make you feel that good, baby? Answer me."

"Y-yes, Miguel you- ohmygod- you make me feel amazing. You're so deep inside me...fuck, you're gonna make me cum soon!" You cried. Miguel laughed darkly. "Oh you're gonna cum a few times for me, cariño. As many times as it takes." He growled. Hooking his arm under your knee, he lifted one of your legs onto the table, angling himself so he could fuck deeper into you. His pace sped up and the feeling of his cock so deep inside you had you screaming. The monitors not attached to the ceiling toppled over and crashed to the floor of the platform but Miguel kept his pace as if he didn't even hear them. You didn't even have time to announce it before your orgasm hit you, soaking Miguel's cock and stomach with your wetness. Still his pace did not slow. If anything, it spurred him on even more. "Así baby, cum all over me, princesa. Fuck you're such a good girl for me.." Miguel groaned in approval.

Grabbing your hair, Miguel pulled your head back and pressed kisses to the side of your face as he continued fucking you. "Que linda...eres tan hermosa, amor." He murmured, his gentle words a stark contrast to the rough movements of his hips. "Tell me you love it, princesa." "Ohhhh I l-love it s'much! S'fucking good!" You slurred, your brain foggy from the overstimulation. You were so blissed out you didn't realize your mouth had been hanging open and drool had fallen from your tongue. Miguel smirked when he noticed. "Oh princesa you're drooling, huh? Am I fucking my baby stupid? This cock too much for my dumb little whore, hm?" All you could do was nod and whimper in response. "Oh pobrecita..." Miguel crooned.

He reached around you and rubbed your clit as he slammed his hips against your ass. Your moans and whimpers grew loud as another orgasm washed over you, your nails clawing at the table.

"M-Miguel please...I c-can't." You sobbed, your legs shaking, dangerously close to giving out. Miguel bent over you and nibbled gently on your ear lobe. "What happened to 'I can take it, Miguel. I'm not fragile, Miguel'?" He taunted. You let out another sob of pleasure as he lifted your leg back onto the table and smacked your ass before gripping it tightly. "Don't worry, princesa. Gonna fill that pussy up soon, gonna put a baby in you and make you a mama. Fuck, amor, you're gonna look so beautiful all swollen with my babies. Gotta fuck it into you deep, baby." He moaned. Your eyes rolled back in your head at his words. "Fuck yes, cum inside me Miguel. Please fill me up! I need it!" You begged. Miguel cursed and gripped your hips hard enough that surely bruises would be there later. Sweat dripped from his hair and a thin sheen of sweat made his chest glisten.

He pounded into you hard, chasing his release. Your screams of pleasure filled his ears and soon he was seeing stars as his release finally hit. His whole body shuddered as he emptied his load inside you, coating your walls in his warm, sticky cum. With a loud grunt, he pressed his hips flush against your ass, making sure he was totally spent before pulling back out of you. Your legs gave out completely and you collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily. Miguel quickly joined you, pulling your trembling body against his sweaty chest. Panting against your skin, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and brushed your hair away from your face. His actions were gentle but as he kissed your cheek, he murmured in your ear.

"Get your rest now, amor. I'm not even close to done with you."

#miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara x reader

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fear-less · 4 months ago

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anyone of your choice x a reader who is like luna lovegood.... hear me out

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 butterfly wings

paring: sirius black x f!reader

➥ In which Sirius Black, seeking solitude on a quiet Friday night, unexpectedly meets a quirky girl who hums Muggle songs, has silly looking hair and clothes, and sees the world through a completely different lens, making him question everything he thought he knew about life and himself.

warnings: written in 2nd pov, she/her pronouns used, flufffff, sirius experiences love at first sight lowkey, ditzy reader, hair described as wavy, lmk if i missed anything

a/n: enjoy this short & sweet fic 😋 feel free to request more pics like this.. lowkey had a blast writing this fic ngl, also how are we loving this alive era !!?? finals are gonna end me tho, hoping to post more when im on break <3

1.1k words

The sun was just starting to dip behind the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the Hogwarts grounds. Sirius Black was leaning lazily against a tree near the edge of the black lake, watching the evening sky. His thoughts were far from the upcoming Potions exam, or even from the constant tension with his family. No, tonight he was simply enjoying the stillness of the moment—until the sound of a soft humming reached his ears.

He turned to see a girl wearing clothes nowhere near their dress robes, skipping through the tall grass, a pair of oversized, mismatched socks peeking out from beneath the hem of her skirt. In one hand, you clutched a jar that looked suspiciously like it was filled with glitter, and in the other, a half-eaten pumpkin pastie. The evening breeze tugged at your hair, but it only seemed to make you twirl in delight, as though you were dancing with the wind itself.

Sirius couldn’t help but smile despite himself. There was something about the way she seemed entirely out of sync with reality, like you were living in a world all your own. It was... fascinating. Most people would’ve been inside on a Friday night, but not you. No, you were humming a song Sirius couldn’t quite place, looking up at the sky as if you expected to find something wonderful there.

Sirius raised an eyebrow as you continued humming, a soft, dreamy melody he now realized was some Muggle song. He considered whether or not to interrupt your song with a conversation. He had come down to the lake to escape the raucous laughter of his friends—he hadn’t planned on talking to anyone, least of all you. But there was something about your carefree presence that pulled him in, something he couldn’t quite explain.

As he watched you, he suddenly felt a strange urge to approach. What am I doing? he thought, before shrugging off the hesitation. Usually, he had no trouble talking to girls. But you were different. There was no rush to impress you or prove something, no game to be played. You were in your own world, so completely other that he felt like he had to break through that bubble of yours, even if it meant making a fool of himself.

He decided, somewhat impulsively, to walk toward you as if he was leaving, hoping you'd say something to stop him—maybe comment on the sunset, or ask if he had seen any magical creatures lately. Something to start a conversation.

As he got closer, a familiar thought crossed his mind. Wait a second… He remembered you now. You were the girl with the wild ideas and strange ways of looking at the world. The one who always seemed to have her mind in the clouds, lost in thoughts others couldn’t seem to follow. You wore mismatched socks, and your shoes were always a little too unconventional for anyone else’s taste. Your hair—today it was streaked with a few colorful hints of pink and blue, strands loosely braided here and there on your wavy hair—was the subject of endless teasing. But you never seemed to care. Whenever the others made fun of you, you'd just smile and continue on as if you hadn’t heard a word. The kind of carefree confidence Sirius had always envied, yet never fully understood.

As Sirius approached, lost in this memory, you suddenly broke the silence, your voice light and dreamy. "If you walk any closer and choose not to move, you might just bump into me," you said, still gazing up at the sky as though you were watching constellations rearrange themselves.

Sirius froze, taken aback, his steps stuttering to a stop. A sheepish smile tugged at his lips, part embarrassed, part amused. "Oh, sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I wasn't really paying attention."

He had been so distracted by the way your hair caught the fading light that he hadn't even realized how close he’d gotten. It was wild, yet soft, a tangled mess of waves and braids, with hints of color streaking through like a sunset painted in your locks. It was almost… magical.

You gave a simple nod in response, finally pulling your gaze away from the sky to look at him. The moment your eyes locked, Sirius felt an unexpected jolt of warmth spread across his chest. You weren't fazed, but there was something in the way you looked at him—as if he were just another curious face in the crowd. It was strange. Everyone knew who Sirius Black was. But to you? He might as well have been a stranger.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just studied each other.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, feeling the familiar prickle of self-consciousness creeping up his neck. Why was it so easy to talk to people who were busy trying to impress him, but with you? It was like he’d been dropped into a world where none of his usual tricks or charm worked.

You squinted at him, your gaze flickering as if you were trying to place him, but the recognition didn’t come. You looked at him like he was someone new, someone you had never seen before.

And, strangely, that made him feel more vulnerable than anything else.

When you finally looked away, returning your attention to the horizon, Sirius took a breath, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling of being seen in a way he wasn’t used to. He was about to say something when you broke the silence once more.

"Did you know," you said, your voice soft and faraway, "that sometimes the stars make shapes in the sky that are only visible to certain people? Some call it a ‘soul alignment,’ but I think it’s more about... perspective." You looked back at him, your eyes sparkling with a quiet certainty. "Maybe we’ll see something special tonight. Something we weren’t supposed to."

Sirius blinked, his confusion evident. "Soul alignment? What do you mean?"

You smiled gently, not offering an explanation, but instead turning back to the sky. "You wouldn’t understand it yet. But it’s something that will make sense eventually."

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but for some reason, his usual quick-wit failed him. The bizarre serenity in your voice, the way you looked at the sky like it held secrets only you knew, left him momentarily speechless.

He watched as you turned the jar of stardust in your hands, staring at the sparkles inside. It wasn’t real, was it? But somehow, in your hands, it felt like it might be.

"So," he began, slowly, unsure of where this conversation was headed but unable to resist it, "how do you see the world, then? Different from everyone else?"

You paused, considering the question. Then, with a soft laugh, you turned to him. "Not different. Just... more patient."

And for the first time in his life, Sirius Black felt the weight of the stars overhead. Maybe it was the stardust in the jar, or maybe it was the quiet, patient way you saw the world—but whatever it was, he realized that he wanted to see it, too.

#harry potter #harry potter oneshots #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #marauders x reader #sirius black x female reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #remus x reader #harry james potter x you

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cakesunflower · 4 months ago

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lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 16

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

A/N: I might start being silly and include fake instagram posts for this fic, one of them included in this one. I just hope it shows up LOL. Of course, I can't find exact pics for the situations I need them for, so the pictures in the posts are just there for you to see the poses/style of the pics I have in mind, and you picture the cast + Isla for them.

“Now this is what I’m talkin’ about,” Cleo coos, the satisfied smile evident in her voice as she stretches on the chair, dark skin glowing under the sun.

Isla grins from her own chair, laying on her stomach with the sun on her back, mostly exposed thanks to her bikini, while she reads the latest Emily Henry book laying before her. Music plays from a speaker somewhere, burgers and hot dogs being cooked on the grill manned by John B, as the rest of them lay and laze around on the deck of The Druthers, Sarah’s dad’s yacht.

It’s not often they hang out at Sarah’s house, and even less so on Ward’s yacht. Most of their time is spent on The Cut, at the beach, the Chateau. It’s where they’re most comfortable together, as a group. But when it’s just them, with no one else disrupting them, moments like these where they can use the yacht and it just be their group, they take advantage of being on Figure Eight. The Cut is their side of the island, no doubt, but between Sarah’s, Isla and Kie’s homes being on Figure Eight, Cleo coming over all of the time for girls’ days, JJ and Pope making deliveries on Figure Eight for Heyward, and John B, of course, spending time at Sarah’s place, they all end up spending time on this side of the island, too.

Isla knows, though, some of her friends aren’t always totally comfortable being here, since The Cut is what they truly know. Sometimes, if they’re feeling particularly stubborn—especially JJ—it’s like pulling teeth trying to get them to hang out somewhere on Figure Eight, or even just Sarah’s house. And Isla gets it; Kooks are assholes and when they see outsiders—or Pogues—they get all righteous and pick fights. Isla knows that Pogues can sometimes be just as bad over on The Cut, but at the same time, no one really kicks out the Kooks when they crash Pogue parties. So Isla can’t really blame her friends for not coming to Figure Eight if they don’t have to. It feels too Kook-like, according to JJ, and Isla agrees sometimes.

But today is an exception. It’s a beautiful day and Sarah had asked Ward if they could use the Druthers; not to take it out or anything, but leave it sitting at the Camerons’ dock while the Pogues hung out on it, grilling food and drinking, ahem, responsibly.

They wanted to just have a chill hang out following JJ quitting his job, even though he didn’t want to be in Kooklandia. But Sarah had given him puppy dog eyes and Kie had smiled flirtatiously, and so he had joined them on the yacht, too. Plus, with enough beers and a few hits of the joint Kie had rolled, JJ has mellowed out.

Kie hasn’t said if anything happened between her and JJ when she left the yacht club with him, despite Isla questioning her. Isla hopes that her sister would tell her if something did happen, but that hope itself seems a little hypocritical, coming from her. So, Isla doesn’t push.

“How much longer on the food, John B?” Kie asks where she sits on the cushioned bench stretching along one side of the deck. She plucks the strings of her ukelele, playing the tune of the Arctic Monkeys song playing through the speakers.

“Two minutes,” John B calls back, waving at the smoke rising from the grill. Next to him, Pope had sliced tomatoes and pulled lettuce leaves, and is now slathering mayonnaise on the burger buns. They both stand shirtless in just swimming trunks, though John B wears a Kiss the Cook apron that Sarah gave him to shield his bare chest from potential oil splatters.

Before lunch is served, Isla places a bookmark in her book before getting up, heading inside the lodge to go to the bathroom. She sees Wheezie on the couch, laying comfortably and seemingly playing a game on her phone. She had asked to hang out on the yacht with them today, and since they all like Wheezie, there was no reason not to invite her.

After Isla quickly uses the bathroom, she walks back out and smiles at the youngest Cameron. “How’s it going, Wheezie? Why’re you sitting in here?” Isla asks, sitting at the end of the L-shaped couch to face Wheezie laying on the other end.

“I get burnt too easily, no matter what kind of sunblock I use,” Wheezie says as she sits up, back resting against the arm rest.

“Well, the food is about to be done,” Isla says, glancing over her shoulder out the sliding glass doors. Looking back at Wheezie, she grins teasingly. “Want me to bring your food in here for you?”

Wheezie rolls her eyes, but she grins. “I think I’ll survive.”

Isla laughs as her gaze shifts, catching sight of the few beaded bracelets Wheezie wears on her wrist. Isla’s smile turns softer, Rafe’s face flashing through her mind. She drags her teeth across her bottom lip before commenting, “I like your bracelets. They’re pretty.”

“Oh, thanks,” Wheezie smiles, raising her wrist to give it a little shake of her bracelets.

“You make them yourself?” Isla asks, despite knowing the answer.

“Yup,” Wheezie answers, pushing up her glasses. “I have a huge bead collection. I even sell them online sometimes.”

“Yeah?” Isla grins, eyebrows rising. “Can you make me one? I’ll pay,” she adds, wiggling her eyebrows.

“First one’s free for friends,” Wheezie replies, which only widens Isla’s grin.

Just then, John B’s voice calls out, “Food’s ready! Come and get it!”

As she and Wheezie get up, the younger girl asks, “I have, like, a crap-ton of colored beads and different shaped beads, like stars and hearts, stuff like that. Is there anything you want specifically?”

Isla considers for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek. Rafe’s eyes flicker through her mind. “Baby blue beads, if you have them? And heart beads.”

Wheezie nods a couple of times. “I can do that!”

“Thanks, Wheezie,” Isla smiles as they step back out onto the deck, catching sight of her friends gathering towards the food.

Isla helps herself to a burger, piling on some lettuce and slices of tomatoes before stepping over to the cooler to grab a drink. Except when she opens it, her eyebrows furrow together. “Hey,” she calls over her shoulder. “Where are the sodas?”

“No sodas!” JJ shouts where he sits towards the front, raising his can of beer. She doesn’t need to see his eyes, which are shielded by sunglasses, to know he’s drunk as she catches sight of that lazy grin on his face. “Beer day only! You think Kooks drink Coke or water when they’re chilling on their yacht?” he snorts, patting the ledge of the boat.

“Seriously?” Isla groans. She’s already one beer in and isn’t particularly in the mood for another. “There was supposed to be water in here, too.”

“Come on, man,” Pope sighs in exasperation towards JJ, hand resting on the top of his cap.

Isla puts her plate down, taking another paper plate to cover her food from potential flies or bugs. “I’m gonna get the drinks,” she says, huffing out a breath as she reaches for her denim shorts and pulls them on. She knows the soda cans and water bottles are in the fridge at the house.

“I can go,” Pope says. “It’ll be heavy.”

Isla scoffs, throwing him a look. “I’ve lifted heavier shit at the restaurant,” she reminds him in a deadpan tone, pocketing her phone. She squints at the length of the dock leading to the Cameron estate, cracking a smile. “I’ll be back in ten.”

She walks off the Druthers and begins the trek down the dock. The music from the yacht grows more and more distant as she walks further down the dock, pulling out her phone and going to her texts.

To: Rafe

you back home yet?

Four steps later, his response comes in.

From: Rafe

Yeah, just got back in. You guys still on the Druthers?

To: Rafe

yeah but i’m coming into the house to get some drinks

From: Rafe

Thought you guys would be stacked up on alcohol

To: Rafe

alcohol, yes. but we need water and sodas too lol

She pockets her phone, getting off the dock and approaching the back glass doors of the house and walking inside. Isla hears someone moving around in the kitchen and when she walks in, she grins at the sight of Rafe. He’s in the process of making a protein shake, it looks like, dressed in gray pants with a light blue button down tucked in, sleeves rolled to the elbows.

Isla bites her smiling bottom lip, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall on her side as she watches him. She knows he’s just coming back from some meetings that he sits in on with his dad, already having a place in Ward’s company for him to one day take over. Rafe’s watch shines on his wrist and her smile widens when she sees one of the beaded bracelets on his other wrist, the beads dark in color.

“Hi there,” she greets, catching his attention right when he puts the lid on the blender.

Rafe looks up, gaze finding hers and a smile instantly finding his face. It makes her heart flutter, how quickly the smile appears when he looks at her. It lights up his entire handsome face, his feelings so evident, and a comforting fire spreads through Isla—to know she’s the reason for that smile.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says, blue eyes dipping down the length of her, her skin electrifying with delicious awareness everywhere his gaze touches. He rolls his bottom lip into his mouth as she walks over, and Rafe nods towards the box of Coca-Cola and some water bottles sitting on the counter. “Got your drinks out for you.”

“Why, thank you.” The corners of her lips dip downwards in a teasing grin, cheek turning into the shoulder she lifts. “You—” Her hand reaches forward to hook a finger through his belt loop, closing the gap between them while tilting her head back to smile at him as he looks down at her, eyebrows raised. “Look ridiculously handsome.”

It’s unfair how nicely the button down stretches across his broad chest and shoulders, strong forearms shown off with how the sleeves are rolled up. “Oh, yeah?” Rafe murmurs, his one hand leaning against the counter while the other slides up her long dark hair, threading through the strands before his hand cups the back of her head. He applies just the slightest bit of pressure to pull her head back while dipping his head, Isla’s eyes fluttering shut when his lips press to her smiling ones.

She hums into the kiss, chest against his torso and lips parting against his. “Mm, I can’t stay for long,” she murmurs, laughing breathlessly as Rafe trails kisses along her jaw, down her neck. Her head tilts back, eyelashes fluttering in response to his lips working along her neck, a breath shuddering out of her. “Rafe, your parents—”

“Dad and Rose are at work,” he tells her. Isla’s thighs clench when his teeth graze against her skin.

“Okay, but don’t—” Isla laughs when he teasingly, lightly, nips at her and her hands press to his chest. “Do not leave any marks.”

Rafe groans. “Boring,” he says, but when he pulls back he’s grinning. His hands shift so he’s cupping her cheeks, thumbs lightly digging into the dents of her dimples when she grins up at him. “Your cheeks are flushed,” he comments with a chuckle.

Isla hums. “Hot day. Are you going back to work?”

Rafe nods. “Yeah, got an hour and a half to kill though,” he tells her with a meaningful raise of his eyebrows.

“Oh-ho, don’t look at me,” Isla laughs, shaking her head. “I gotta get back to the others.”

But Rafe wraps his arms around her waist, hugging her to him with a burgeoning grin. “I’m sure you have some time to kill,” he muses, and Isla yelps in surprise, hands gripping Rafe’s shoulders, as he lifts her and sits her on the counter, the cool marble chilling the bare skin of her thighs. He kisses her again, hands sliding down her sides, teasing the band of her shorts. “We can be quick,” he says, each word emphasized by a kiss as his fingers brush over the button and zipper of her shorts, but he doesn’t go any further. “Hmm?”

He pulls back to look at her questioningly, but Isla chases his kisses, making him grin knowingly, and she groans because of course she can’t say no to him. “We really will have to be quick,” she says breathlessly, heart thumping at the thrill of anticipation.

Rafe’s smirk is wicked and eager, fingers working to undo her short’s button and zipper. And it’s risky—oh, it’s so risky, but cautious is thrown out the window the second Rafe tugs her shorts off, taking them off all the way and dropping them to the floor. Isla kisses him again, eager to feel the softness of his lips and taste him, as she feels his fingers work at the bows on one side at her hip of her bikini bottom, undoing it to pull it off.

His kisses trail down her jaw, her neck, and Isla’s head tilts back as his lips travel down her sternum, her stomach as he pulls her closer to the edge of the counter before he drops down. Isla’s heart is thunderously in her chest, lips parted as she watches Rafe part her legs further, an eager gleam in his eyes that meet hers as his tongue licks a stripe up her center.

“Oh—God,” Isla shudders, one hand finding the back of his head and the other gripping the edge of the counter, watching and feeling as he licks at her. Electricity shoots through her veins, watching her boyfriend who is dressed up the way he is, as he eats her like she’s his last damn meal, holding back nothing.

Isla’s breaths come out sharply, a moan escaping when Rafe’s teeth graze her clit, the moan becoming a cry when he sucks her clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs before his tongue does something—alternating from fluttering and fucking her, making Isla throw her head back as stars begin to dot her closed lids. Her fingers tighten in his hair, no doubt messing it up, but neither of them seem to care as her hips start moving at their own accord, her breaths coming out like whimpers as she looks down at Rafe, watching him lick and kiss and suck at her.

He looks like he’s in fucking heaven, which only makes her skin fire up more, desire and exhilaration and the slight alarm of potentially getting caught mix together to make her head spin even more. Over the thundering of her heart, Isla can hear the crude sounds of him eating her out, sucking at her lips and tongue licking into her. Rafe knows exactly what to do, showing just as much attention to her clit, and it’s enough for Isla to feel that familiar tensing, electrifying sensation low in her abdomen.

“Oh, God, Rafe—I can’t—I’m gonna—Please.”

Rafe hums against her, giving her clit a slow, wicked suck, and Isla is falling apart with a sharp cry of his name. White flashes across her closed eyes as her climax wracks through her, shaking as Rafe lets her ride through it on his tongue, taking in whatever she can give him.

She’s seconds away from collapsing on her back on the counter—oh, she can’t believe they just did that on the Camerons’ kitchen counter—but Rafe’s arm is around her waist, holding her up as he rises to his feet. When Isla looks at him, trying to catch her breath, a smirk dances on his lips, sinfully shining, as his hand presses to the small of her back, his skin hot against hers.

“Look at that,” Rafe muses cockily as Isla’s slightly widened eyes meet his. “Knew you’d be a good girl.”

Isla exhales sharply, her racing heart only just beginning to settle. “You’re crazy,” she remarks. “And a menace.”

He grins shamelessly. “You like it, though.”

She shakes her head, but smiles nonetheless with heat in her cheeks as Rafe gets some paper towels and helps her clean up. When he helps her off the counter, Isla’s knees shake only a little bit, but she’s able to stand as Rafe ties the strings of her bikini bottoms against her hip. “I can’t believe we just did that,” Isla whispers, hands on her warm cheeks as she watches Rafe tie a cute little bow before he bends to grab her shorts. “On your kitchen counter.”

“It’s no big deal, Isla,” he tells her with a light chuckle, holding her shorts up by the band for her to step into.

“Your family cooks and eats here!” Isla hisses, one hand on his shoulder to keep her balance as she puts her right foot into the shorts and then the left. “I mean, that’s—”

“Baby, baby, stop worrying,” Rafe cuts in with a gentle laugh, buttoning and zipping her shorts before cupping her cheeks. Despite her mild freak out, she’s more than a little endeared that he practically dressed her after making her see stars. Chivalry isn’t dead, afterall. “I’ll clean up, if that helps.”

Isla’s eyes widen. “You better,” she says before reaching for the long box of Coke cans. “I gotta get back before they start asking questions.”

He nods to the water bottles. “Let me get you a bag for those.” He opens one of the lower cabinets and pulls out a plastic bag, putting the water bottles in there before handing her the bag. “You sure you don’t need help?”

Isla smiles, stepping over to him. “I’ll be fine, babe,” she says, rising on her toes to give him a quick kiss. “I’ll call you later?”

Rafe grins. “Looking forward to it.”

*****

The yard of the Chateau, with the view of the water, looks gorgeous.

Under Sarah’s leadership, the girls had transformed the outdoor space into a pretty, Pinterest-inspired dinner area. Isla and Kie had borrowed their dad’s pick up truck and used it to bring the bigger supplies, like folding tables and extra chairs. The sunset makes the sky bleed orange into red, reflecting off the water, and the fairy lights that are stretched along above them and tied around the trees and back porch pillars add a fantasy-like glow.

The tables, just two and big enough to fit all seven of them, are covered with a rustic linen tablecloth that will probably get stained by the time dinner is over. There are two cute centerpieces of vases stocked with wildflowers that Isla had picked. The girls all each cooked multiple things—especially given there will be three teenage guys with them who can each eat two people’s worth of food. There’s lasagna, chicken pot pie, Cleo’s famous sandwiches, stuffed peppers, garlic bread. Not to mention the other bits of dessert to go with the birthday cake. Over the screened in porch, facing their set up, a custom made Happy Birthday John B! banner hung, along with balloons tied to the tops of their chairs.

“Okay, Pope just texted,” Cleo announces, her phone screen lighting up her face. “They’re ten minutes out!”

“Okay, okay,” Sarah rushes and Isla smiles in amusement because her friend almost resembles a headless chicken. But she looks pretty, unsurprisingly, in a pale yellow summer dress and sandals, hair in loose waves with the front braided back. “We’ve got everything, right?” she asks, her eyes critically looking over the table set up.

Kie nods, brushing away a fallen leaf from the table. “Good to go, dude,” she confirms, grinning excitedly.

They go inside the house and begin bringing the food out, which they made sure is warm and set it out on the table, though they don’t take off the lids or Seran wrap off the top of the dishes so flies or bugs don’t get into the food. Soda and beer bottles are also brought out and Isla bites back a smile as she watches Sarah needlessly—and nervously—straighten out the utensils placed by the plates.

“We’re good, right? This is good?” Sarah asks, looking around.

“Would you calm down?” Isla laughs, walking over and gripping Sarah’s shoulders from behind before hugging her. “John B’s gonna love it.”

Sarah’s nervousness is only a sign of how much she loves John B, and this is totally not the right time or circumstance to suddenly feel the dull ache of yearning deep in Isla’s chest as she thinks of Rafe. It’s accompanied by the sharp sting of jealousy that comes with witnessing her friends be so openly in love and together, while Isla feels as though she can’t share the beginning bloom of her new relationship with Rafe.

Maybe cowardice is holding her back. No matter when or how Isla tells her friends, she knows that their reactions are not going to be good. The guys and Rafe, with his friends, have gotten into plenty of fights and spats over the years, and Isla isn’t sure her friends are willing to move past that. Part of her worries that Rafe could spend the next few years being civil and, hell, even nice to them without their relationship being revealed, and it would still take a while for her friends not to hate him. Sarah would be the easiest to win over, Isla figures, because her relationship with Rafe has gotten better over the last couple of years.

But the Pogue versus Kook mentality that smothers their island is the root of the resentment between them. Perhaps it’s a bit delusional, but Isla hopes that if she can see Rafe has changed, that he’s a better person than the asshole who used to get into fights with JJ, John B, and Pope, then her friends can see it, too. They would just have to get past, well, the past. And that, she fears, isn’t going to be easy.

“What’s with all the lights?” Isla hears John B’s voice, and she pulls out of her thoughts quickly enough to join the others in exclaiming, “Surprise!”

She sees John B’s eyes widen, hands up in front of him as he says, “Oh, shit,” while a grin grows on his face as he looks at them all with shock lighting up his eyes. “What?” He laughs as JJ grabs his shoulders and gives him a shake, grinning, while Pope steals a page out of JJ’s books and gives John B a noogie.

“Happy birthday, John B,” Sarah smiles, walking over to him and throwing her arms around his neck. His arms instantly wind around her waist, and Kie whistles when the two of them share a kiss. When they pull back, Sarah’s smile widens. “Hope you’re ready to eat,” she says, fingers interlacing with his as she pulls him towards the tables.

She lets go of his hand long enough for the rest of them to step in, and Isla grins at her friend as she wraps her arms around him. “Happy birthday, buddy,” she murmurs, giving him a squeeze that he returns. “Feeling old yet?” she laughs as they pull away, patting his shoulder.

John B’s grin is wide and smug. “Nineteen and never felt younger,” he chuckles, hooking his arm around her neck before they all make their way to the tables. John B lets out a laugh, rubbing his hands together as he says, “Guys, this looks amazing.” To JJ and Pope, he smirks. “No wonder you boys kept me out all day.”

JJ grins, tipping an imaginary hat to Sarah. “We were under strict orders,” he says with a wink as they all sit down.

John B sits at the head, Sarah to his right with Isla next to her and Kie on the other side of Isla. JJ sits to John B’s left, and Pope and Cleo are opposite of Isla and Kie. Among the dishes, there are two three-wick candles adding to the ambiance provided by the fairy lights. “Wow,” John B says again when he sits, smiling in awe as he observes the spread in front of him. “You guys went all out, huh?”

Pope shoots him a grin. “Anything for you, Grandpa,” he says, everyone’s laughter ringing when John B throws him a feigned glare at the knock at his age. Comes with the territory when he’s the oldest of their group.

“Let’s eat!” Sarah says, gesturing for everyone to begin helping themselves.

Their chatter fills the air, along with the clinking of utensils against plates as they serve themselves, piling up their plates with the home cooked dishes. Cleo, having hooked up her phone to the Bluetooth speaker sitting at the base of the tree nearby, plays music in the background, not too loud to overpower their conversation but enough to add to the atmosphere. Dishes are passed back and forth, drinks are poured, and smiles are ever present as the seven of them get lost in this small world they’ve built for themselves.

The guys regale their adventures from today, which was really just an average day in OBX for them. Out on the boat, fishing, surfing, their usual activities that they never get tired of. It’s why John B didn’t suspect the surprise dinner because nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Isla knows that Sarah also has a romantic dinner planned with him tomorrow, but she wanted all of them to spend his actual birthday together, as a family.

And that’s exactly what they do, constant laughter ringing out in between eating and drinking and taking pictures for their memories. “Yo, we should do these more,” John B comments at one point, reaching for his glass. “Like, these family dinners,” he clarifies, gesturing to the table with the glass and a smile.

Cleo points a fork at him, arching an eyebrow. “You say that now because you and the boys did none of the cooking,” she points out.

Isla snaps her fingers, nodding. “Exactly.”

“Next time, y’all are cooking,” Kie says, raising her eyebrow at all three of the guys.

“You trust us in the kitchen?” JJ grins at her, leaning back in his chair with an arm thrown over the back of Pope’s chair. Isla doesn’t miss the way JJ is looking at Kie, a dimple in his cheek and his blue eyes glinting with something far more than something that can be clocked under the guise of a platonic relationship.

Isla rolls her smiling lips into her mouth, hiding it behind the rim of her glass as she sips the Coke. Her gaze flicks to her left, catching Sarah’s own knowing, smiling gaze. On the other side of Isla, Kie snorts out a laugh. “I’m sure you boys are capable,” she muses and oh, man, those two are definitely flirting, whether they realize it or not.

Now Isla is really wondering if something did happen between Kie and JJ, and her sister just hasn’t told her about it.

When they finish eating dinner, they all take the time to take some pictures before Sarah heads inside. She’s only gone for a few minutes, but Isla sees John B’s gaze constantly going to the house, like he’s looking out for her. It makes Isla smile, even as her phone vibrates and she checks to see a text from Sarah.

From: Sarah👸🏼🩵

coming!!!!

Isla thumbs up the message and goes on her phone’s camera, getting to her feet and wiggling her eyebrows at John B’s questioning look right as the backdoor opens and Sarah walks out. “Happy birthday to you. . .” She starts singing with a laugh, and with Isla recording, the rest of them join in on the singing as Sarah walks towards John B, holding the cake with two candles, reading 19, are lit on top and make Sarah’s smiling face glow.

The group of them sing happy birthday to John B as he laughs, delight lighting up his face as Sarah puts the cake in front of him on the table, her smile wide as JJ hands him a knife to cut the cake. “Cut it, old man!” JJ says over the rest of their cheering.

Isla records John B blowing out the candles before he cuts the cake, Sarah standing next to him with her hands pressed together after clapping, pressed against her smiling lips as she watches John B cut the cake. He takes a slice, then, and offers it to Sarah, and Isla and Kie whistle as he feeds it to her. And Isla is so glad she has that video to play it at their inevitable wedding, where they recreate that very moment with their wedding cake. Isla can already, so easily, picture it as she posts one of the photos they took tonight on Instagram.

“Alright, alright, step aside,” Pope says once they’ve finished, taking the knife from John B. “I’ll cut.”

Cleo slides up next to him. “I’ll give it out,” she says, grabbing the pile of small plates.

They get to work, with Pope cutting slices and placing them on plates, which Cleo hands to the rest of them. When Isla notes that JJ is occupied with Sarah and John B, she quickly but casually makes her way to where Kie is cleaning up more of the table and bringing dishes inside. Isla grabs the lasagna dish and hurries after her sister into the house, and Kie glances at her over her shoulder.

“What’s up?” she asks as they enter the kitchen, as though she knows Isla is after something.

“Come on, be honest,” Isla starts, placing the dish on the counter. “Did something happen between you and JJ the other day?”

Kie presses her lips together as she places the pile of dirty plates in the sink. With her back to Isla, her shoulders seem tense, bracing her hands against the counter before she slowly turns to face Isla. Isla, on the other hand, is watching her with eyes slightly widened with anticipation, biting back the urge to yell I knew it! before Kie even has had the chance to say anything.

“We’re going on a date,” Kie slowly says, lips twitching as though she is struggling not to smile.

But Isla’s jaw has dropped, eyes even wider as she stares at her sister in disbelief. So many thoughts run through her head in response to Kie’s words, her pulse racing in excitement, but the first thing she blurts out is, “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“Shh! Keep your voice down,” Kie hisses, widening her eyes as she walks towards Isla. “We didn’t wanna say anything to anyone until, you know, after. We don’t wanna bring any attention to it because we kind of just wanna see for ourselves, you know, if anything is there.”

Isla scoffs, forehead creasing as she shoots Kie a really? look. “There’s something definitely there,” she states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world—because it is.

Kie rolls her eyes before letting out a breath, her shoulders sinking. Her expression shifts, then, and Isla recognizes the guilt that softens her dark eyes, the downwards tilt of her lips. “I know I should have told you. I’m sorry I didn’t.” Isla’s lips part, but Kie’s hands suddenly find Isla’s, cutting Isla off. “You’re my sister and, y’know, we tell each other all the shit. You’ve been trying to get me to open up to JJ about my feelings and I finally took your advice, and you’re the first person I should’ve told instead of keeping you in the dark.”

Isla can’t lie—the second Kie had told her about going on a date with JJ, Isla had felt a pang of hurt that Kie hadn’t said a word. That she had purposefully kept it a secret even when Isla questioned her about it earlier. Except. . . That’s hypocritical of her, isn’t it? Isla can’t truly, genuinely, be angry with Kie about this when she is keeping an even bigger secret about her own love life.

So whatever guilt Kie is feeling right now, Isla suddenly gets wracked with it tenfold, her throat drying and stomach bottoming out at the expression Kie wears. At this moment, Isla so badly wants to come clean. She wants to tell her sister about her own love life—her boyfriend. And yet, Isla doesn’t feel ready, and she doesn’t think Kie and their friends are ready to hear it, either. Never mind that it’s John B’s birthday and Isla doesn’t want to take the attention away from her friend and his day.

That doesn’t stop her stomach from twisting, though, or feeling her skin prickle with guilt as Kie holds her hands. Kie’s secret with JJ is nothing in comparison to what Isla is hiding from everyone.

“Hey, no, stop,” Isla says with a shake of her head, forcing out a laugh through her bone dry throat. She squeezes Kie’s hands reassuringly. “I’m not upset, alright? I get it. You didn’t have to tell me anything until you were ready to.”

Kie blinks a few times, still looking worried. “Are you sure? Because, like, I know we don’t keep that many secrets from each other, if we even do, you know? I just—”

“Kiara,” Isla says, and the use of her full name has Kie pausing. Resisting the urge to swallow the guilt-laden lump in her throat, Isla smiles again. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m just glad you and JJ finally got your heads out of your asses,” she adds playfully, trying to lighten the burden on her chest. It only works a little when Kie laughs.

“Yeah, me too,” she smiles, nodding. To Isla’s surprise, Kie pulls her in for a hug, her arms tight. “Thanks for talking some sense into me about JJ.”

With her chin resting on Kie’s shoulder, Isla’s expression falls and her eyes squeeze shut, feeling like an absolute ass for the hypocrisy that tightens her stomach. Especially with Kie mentioning the lack of secrets between them, which has always been true—except this time. Isla tries reassuring herself that it’s for good reason, that Kie and everyone else aren’t ready to hear the truth that they don’t know even exists.

Still, with her eyes squeezing shut, Isla pushes back the burning sensation. “Anytime,” she responds to Kie.

Thankfully, her sister doesn’t notice the way Isla’s voice has become hoarse with guilt in just that one word answer.

-----

taglist: @talkfastromance4 @you-got-me-starry-eyed @invisiblexcth @freshsturniolo346 @theafournier97 @danismyth04 @perfectprettypisces @pameluuu @melsbels-zip @gabrielapereze11 @katieeeeb @diary-of-jj @cenzie811148 @hangmanscoming

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kodaiki · 1 year ago

Text

highlights! ⇢ luna had to stay in satoru's bedroom bc she could choke on the lego pieces :( no cameo from her today ⇢ gojo never told anyone any of that... ⇢ gojo was shocked to learn that those were y/n's first official bouquet of flowers given to her

author's note! ⇢ we love a deep conversation moment, bonding over legos <3 okay now kiss :] this was basically the talk they had mentioned in the last part!

꒰ 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ꒱ ↳ as a rising star in the tumultuous world of hollywood, you're handed a golden opportunity to boost your career – a fake relationship. what your manager forgot to mention? your leading man is none other than satoru gojo, hollywood's notorious fuckboy. easy? well, not exactly.

PART TWENTY ½ | NEXT

ʚĭɞ rbs and interaction always appreciated! ʚĭɞ

to join the taglist: currently 50/50. CLOSED!

[below is the written alternative to the pics above! enjoy <3]

SATORU’S HOME — 10:08 PM

the soft glow of the dimmed lights over your head illuminates the cozy atmosphere as you and satoru sit, plopped on the floor, surrounded by lego pieces scattered around you both. convenience store meal containers are pushed aside, replaced by the colorful array of lego blocks for the assembling of the flowers you’re making.

you can’t help but chuckle softly as you clip a piece together. “who knew assembling lego flowers would be so therapeutic?”

satoru glances up at you from his craftsmanship, his face lifting into a lopsided smirk as he raises a brow. “therapeutic and much more enjoyable than a dinner at a five-star joint, right?” he asks in a sly tone.

“definitely,” you admit – but give an eye roll, too – finding enjoyment in the quiet concentration of your activity. “i mean, who needs caviar when you’ve got legos?”

satoru wiggles his brows with a drawled, yet all the same, teasing tone. “you expected caviar?”

“you brought up a five star restaurant place first! i’m just playing along,” you reply with a pointed tone, jabbing the start of a lego flower stem at him.

the atmosphere is light as you continue your tasks, planted in place as you furrow your brows in concentration and deep thought.

“you know,” you begin, trailing up your gaze to glance over at his progress. he’s piecing the petals to the stem of his first flower. “i expected hollywood glamour and red carpets when i signed up for a fake relationship…definitely didn’t expect this.” your tone remains light and amused, almost whimsical, as a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

satoru snaps his fingers in an ‘aw man’ type of gesture. with mock disappointment, he juts bottom his lip out. “well, i’m sorry if you’re disappointed, princess.”

you scoff playfully, rolling your eyes at his exaggerated display. “oh, i’m terribly disappointed. no paparazzi, no fancy dinners, just legos and premade meals. what a letdown.”

you meet satoru’s eyes when you finish speaking, tone laced with sarcasm. he’s grinning at you, finding your tone amusing. as the playfulness subsides and you’re left in silence again, a more contemplative air settles between the two of you.

you don’t notice at first, but satoru sets aside his made flower and leans back on his hands, gazing at you, his blonde bangs brushing against his forehead. “in all honesty, y/n, the hollywood life can be exhausting. sometimes, a night like this feels more real that those red carpet events.”

the shift in his tone catches your attention, making you pause in your movements and look up at him more intently. you notice his eyes, usually filled with more mischief, now hold a smidge of… is that vulnerability?

“you ever feel like you’re playing a role even when the cameras aren’t rolling?” he continues, a genuine curiosity in his expression.

the legos forgotten for a moment, you nod thoughtfully. “yeah, sometimes, depending on where i am. it’s like there’s ‘public me’ and then the ‘real me,’ and they don’t always align.” you recall the amount of pr training you had to do in your agency, solely to maintain a specific image.

satoru’s gaze lingers on you as if searching for something deeper behind your gaze. “well, you’re not alone in that feeling,” he confesses in a low tone, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a rare sincerity you haven’t seen before. “sometimes, i wonder if anyone really knows the real me.”

his words make your head cock to the side in interest. “what about suguru and your other friends?” you ask softly.

"well, yeah, i guess they know me on more than a superficial level. but even then, sometimes it's like i'm still playing a character." he shrugs with twisted lips – a habit of his you realize means he's in deep thought. "don't get me wrong, it's nothing wrong with them but my guard is still up… it’s kind of like a default thing engrained in my head since i first started acting.”

your brows dip into a slight furrow as you take in his words. had acting really gotten him to a point of building a hypothetical shield around himself?

you can sense a hint of sadness in his admission, a vulnerability laid bare in his words. it’s a satoru you haven’t seen before, a crack in the facade of the confident, charming persona he presents to the world. truthfully, you didn’t think you’d ever witness this side of him.

“i get that,” you reply softly, setting aside your own lego flower to change your sitting position to hugging your knees as your chin rests against the top of them, giving him your full attention. with a bashful chuckle, you continue, “i mean– i can’t say i relate since i’m far from where you are… but i guess i can see how it’s easy to blur the lines between who you are and a role you’re trying to uphold. it’s like the more successful you become, the more layers you add to protect yourself.”

he blinks owlishly at your words, face appearing blank. you think, for a moment, that you’ve said the wrong thing but he releases a chuckle himself, head tilting to the side thoughtfully.

“exactly,” he murmurs in agreement. “you sure you’re an amateur actress?” he raises a brow, a teasing glimmer in his blue eyes.

you laugh again. “definitely an amateur compared to the hollywood veteran sitting across from me,” you tease, a genuine smile playing on your lips.

satoru visibly shudders at the word ‘veteran,’ shaking his shoulders and head as he sits up straighter.

"was it tough getting to where you are?" you ask, treading the water first, wondering if he's even comfortable sharing this side of himself to you.

"i wanna say i got lucky with my first role at just fourteen. but everything after that? I can’t even tell you which was media-driven and which was self-motivated,” he shrugs with a sigh, briefly looking away from you as if pondering.

"what do you mean?" you furrow your brows. it's no surprise he's technically a 'child' actor, having starred on a popular netflix show in his early teenhood, skyrocketing him to instant fame, a much starker contrast than the typical child actor on daytime t.v.. his viewership was massive from his debut, having scored such a prominent role.

"after my first show did well, apparently several representatives for different projects wanted me and, well, for my management, that was a lottery. and – it's all a blur now, really – but soon enough I was an overworked sixteen-year-old starring in some show I hardly couldn't care less about, and then-"

"savage satoru," you finish for him, connecting the dots of his story.

he snorts at the cringy title. “was that really what they referred to me as?" he visibly winces, probably wishing for a nickname that didn’t sound like dated twitter jargon.

you nod, remembering how he'd blown up for acting out and being messy, as told by online tabloids on twitter and other social media sites. it’d been so many years ago but it was a pop culture moment; one of those ‘you just had to be there’ moments.

"so you remember the headlines then. i turned eighteen and started being a complete asshole on set, dating around, y’know the whole ordeal. my management had to step in and have a whole intervention with me if you can imagine it. damage control, really. they blamed it on the fact that I was eighteen – young and dumb bullshit – and sure, that had a part in it. but it has more so to do with how exhausted and overworked I was...

but despite all this damage control, i gained the label of some bad boy in hollywood who was objectively attractive and had a fanbase full of girls, so hollywood went with it. as long as i wasn't acting out on set, they'd embrace this new version of myself skewed by the media. anything for some exposure and quick bucks. and me? well, I still needed a check of my own so... i went with it. i think that's when i put up my first layer, hiding myself behind someone who wasn't me but doing it anyway because realistically, what else could I do?”

“it sounds toxic,” you murmur with a frown.

satoru's gaze becomes distant for a moment, a hint of nostalgia or maybe regret flashing in his eyes. “yeah, it was. it's a strange thing, trying to navigate your identity in an industry that's constantly shaping and reshaping it for you."

you reach down to pick up a stray lego piece from the floor, turning it over in your hand as you absorb his words. “but why go along with it even now? couldn't you have rebelled against the image they were trying to create?"

satoru chuckles bitterly, shaking his head to himself. "it's not that simple, y/n. in hollywood, the image they build for you often becomes more real than your true self. it becomes a survival mechanism. if you're not marketable, then they find someone who is. it's a game, and sometimes you have to play along to stay in it. think about it, you’re part of the game, too."

you gnaw at your lower lip, taking in his words. what he’s saying is true. if it hadn’t been for this fake relationship, you wouldn’t have the place – the opportunities – you do now in hollywood. without you even realizing, it’s a story built by hollywood for hollywood.

satoru looks over at your expression, a rueful smile on his lips. "it's a double-edged sword. the fame, the adoration, it comes at a cost. and often, that cost is your own self.”

the room is filled with a contemplative silence, broken only by the occasional click of lego pieces coming together. the atmosphere shifts once more, a newfound understanding settling between you and satoru.

“i didn’t mean for this talk to get so gloomy,” he mutters with an awkward chuckle amidst the silence, rubbing the back of his neck.

“that’s okay,” you offer a smile of understanding. to be honest, you’d much rather have talks like these with people than a superficial one while brushing these topics under a carpet. “is it bad that i’m rethinking my whole career now?” you ask with a humorless laugh, picking up the flower again, now nearly finished.

“i’d be more surprised if you didn’t,” he retorts with an amused scoff. “but it gets better, trust me.”

“if it’s any consolation, i’m grateful i got to fake date you out of the other actors in hollywood,” you admit with a soft smile.

“yeah?” he raises a brow, partly in amusement, the other part in pure intrigue. “the infamous satoru gojo?” before you can answer, he leans back on his hands again, shooting you a smirk. “i knew you’d admit to my appeal one of these days. they always do.” he glances back at you, winking to let you know he’s partially kidding.

“oh, shut up,” you fire back, but a grin tugs up your lips. “i take back what i said.”

“too late!” he gives you a shit-eating grin, teasing you.

you can only roll your eyes, knowing if you tried to argue with him, your tone would give yourself away.

perhaps, amidst the legos and vulnerability, a genuine friendship is taking root, growing from the foundation of shared experiences and mutual understanding.

and surprisingly,

you don’t mind it one bit.

taglist!

@dummyf @vivi-loves-penguins @sadmonke @scaraslover @pleorexicz @sophluvspurple @fandomtrash5092 @tiredjuniper @satoruslipbalm @v3nusplanetoflove @semra4 @sorcerersseestars @thisisnotashley @sad-darksoul @itzjuliana @yanelis-world @giannitaa @sexeyess @sousblogga @swissy23 @awrient @nijirosz @shotovhs @m00nglad3-mp3 @hellomeow12 @saatorubby @44ina @sassy-cat-in-town @oneofthesevensins @chuyasthighs0 @tetsusangel @roselleviennesstuff @lilactaro @blvckxb3vutii @gojoreads @amnmich @misfit-megumi @mizzfizz @iluv-ace @zat0r0 @thenyxsky @qv4nx11 @tobaccosunbxrst @muoshui @kyufiber @startaee

those highlighted in pink were unable to be tagged! please solve this issue within a week or your spot will be given to someone else! 🤍

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bratbarzal · 1 month ago

Note

Cheet-spo (cheeto inspo)

this blurb was literally unavoidable after these pics!!! we love cheet-spo!! my hc that they were a dog family is firmly dead and buried!! CHEETO MY PRECIOUS LITTLE ANGEL!!!!!

(no comments on those last two looking like T I know your game)

anyways enjoy this sweet little on your side lore drop, obvs set way after the actual fic lmao

"Why is there a live animal on the couch with our daughter?"

Nico probably should have been listening out a little better for Poppy to get home - especially considering the pretty big secret he's been keeping from her all day, responding to all everything good? texts with as many kitten-less photos as he could take, careful of any stray hairs that might have been visible on their daughter's clothes.

Maybe if he'd have been on top of it, he could have made it all look a little better - perfected the whole bed and litter box set up so that he looks like the kind of person who can actually be a responsible cat-dad instead of leaving all the new purchases in a heap by the couch, too distracted with all the playing him and Lina had done. Little soft mice and cat teasers strewn across the floor, discarded once Lina did her tell-tale tired crawl into his lap.

Or maybe he wouldn't have left his daughter half-unsupervised with the pet, but he can still keep an eye on everything where he stands in the kitchen, and she's historically gentle with all animals. Plus, all the kitten has done all day is play and explore, and it seemed pretty exhausted - 10 minutes for him to get the dishes done before Poppy got home was all he really needed to sweeten the deal, he thought.

But she's a little earlier than he anticipated.

Or maybe she's not, and he had just lost track of time as he so often does when him and his daughter have their rare full days together, just the two of them.

"Don't be mad," he holds his hands up, soapy residue dripping down past his wrists as he holds a plate in one and a sponge in the other. "Google said that a pet is a great way to teach babies how to share space with another living thing. It's meant to help them be more responsible."

"I swear we've talked before about Google, baby," Poppy huffs, "You don't think you could have talked to me first before you went and got a cat?"

"Well, it kind of ended up just happening." Nico winces, realising he probably should have called, or texted, or even just spoken to her about it at any point before bringing the little fur ball home.

"Right," she snickers, "You just happened upon that tiny Pinterest cat over there." Poppy hook her thumb back toward the perfect view of his little Lina Bug cuddling up to the creature, blinking sleepily as she watches TV with it in her lap.

"Well we were out walking today, and there was this adoption drive at the park, and what was I supposed to do, Poppy, tell her no?"

"Kinda." Poppy laughs, and Nico's thankful for the turn of her lips, because he really doesn't want her to be upset with him. It really had been a spur of the moment thing - if he'd have known the drive was at the park, he might have gone a different route.

Plus, Lina's walking so well now - toddling along at a safe distance where he doesn't always have to hold her hand but he still wants to - and she had found all the animals before he had any chance to stop her or do anything about it.

He thinks that he and Poppy are actually pretty lucky it was the cats that caught her eye - god help them if they had to have a puppy in the house.

"And you don't always come across kittens that cute at the shelter, you know, it was a no-waiting-around kind of situation." He defends himself, drying off his hands with a towel before he throws it to the side.

The cat really is adorable - picturesque like Poppy said; fluffy as hell, despite the fact the lady at the shelter called it a shorthair, and a gorgeous grey colour.

"Was it really?" Poppy's pretty eyes are narrowed his way, glinting under the dim light in the kitchen, the rest of her glowing in tandem, it seems.

"Yes. She's been asking me for a kitty for a while, now," he smiles softly, opening his arms for her to walk into, hands splayed out on her hips when she's close enough and tugging her the rest of the way until she bumps straight into him. "Like non-stop, and she's convincing, babe, you know that, one flash of those big brown eyes and I fold."

"I'm familiar with the technique." Poppy snarks, her hands swatting at his chest before she uses them to hold him back, trailing around the side of his neck and playing with the hair he's been meaning to get cut for a few weeks now. "You know she's calling you Kitty, right? She wasn't asking you for a cat."

"Me?" He frowns, "Why would she be calling me Kitty?"

"Monsters Inc, babe," Poppy raises a brow in amusement, her fingers coming down to slide gently along his bulky forearms, tickling delicately as she goes, pushing against the dark hairs that line them all the way from past his elbows to just past his wrists. "You're big and fuzzy like Sully, and she's tiny and adorable like Boo."

"Oh," Nico pouts, thick brows slanting in the middle as he peers over into the living room, where their daughter is cuddling with the little ball of fur in her lap, calm and quiet as Bluey plays on the television. She wears her hair in little pigtails that he is sure were much neater when he did them earlier in the day - he's getting better at piggies or bunnies, he swears - and he can see it, now, with the context. She'd been asking him for piggybacks, more, too. She'd even thrown a sock at him when he changed her earlier and darted off in a clumsy run, a combination of screams and giggles ricocheting off the walls. "Was that her logic or yours?"

"Is there even a difference?" Poppy scoffs, turning in his hold as she watches the scene, too, her head resting back against his chest.

"Probably not," he chuckles, his arm extending around her frame so that he can hold her there, and the two of them stay in that position for a minute or two, a blissful, serene silence filling the air around them. "Can you try make this next one a little more like me?" he asks, lips pressing to her temple and his hands coming to rest on Poppy's stomach, fingers flexing around the swell of her bump and a reminiscent smile tugging at his lips at the feeling.

"I don't know, I think she's a lot more like you than you realise." Poppy's sigh is a little dreamy, probably in the same headspace as him, he thinks, her body lax and melty in front of him until it all of a sudden isn't. "Watch this."

Poppy peels herself from his body and heads straight for Lina, smiling soft as she kneels beside her, reaching out to stroke along the cat's back whenever their daughter leaves her space to do so.

"Hey Lina-Bug," he hears, Poppy's tone soft and melodic, specific to his little girl's ears. "What do you think you're gonna call your new kitty, huh?"

"I fink," their baby girl's voice is sweet too, dragging out the word as she takes a moment to ponder her answer, Poppy's eyes darting knowingly upward to meet his at the sound of the subtle mis-pronunciation. "Möckli."

Nico can't help the snort that comes out at the name, fist coming to his face in an attempt to conceal his amusement as he watches Poppy's face slowly turn in recognition.

It's what he'd called the kitten when he had belted the carrier in the back of the car beside Lina after they left the shelter, earlier. She'd picked the fattest one in the litter, it's face all rounded and the abundance of fur doing little to lessen it's plump-ness.

He keeps forgetting what Poppy tries to remind him - that tiny ears pick up everything.

But at least he'd only called it little chunk, and not something rude or inappropriate.

"That's very cute, baby," Poppy coos, tickling at the kitten's chin and smiling herself when it starts to purr back. She does the same to Lina's chin, which doubles when she giggles a little in response. "Five more minutes then I'm gonna take you to bed, okay? I'll let you put your kitty to bed, first."

"Okay, mama." Lina hums back sleepily, neck craning to look past her mommy to watch the TV again, absentmindedly running her own chunky little hand along Möckli's back.

"You're right," Poppy scoffs as she returns to his side, "Not like you at all."

"I don't know what you could possibly mean," he opens his arms for her to slot back into them before he wraps them back around her - her back to his front, his chin resting on the crown of her head, and her hands coming up to stroke at his arms again. "Möckli is cute."

"Don't get attached, she'll have a new name by the morning."

"Tell that to baby Lulu in your belly," he chuckles, deep and hearty as his hands travel back, "She hasn't changed her mind on that one, yet."

"I'm not naming our baby after Luke." She huffs, body melting straight back into his again. "I don't care that Lina and Lulu sounds like some sort of cartoon dream team."

"It's not me that you have to convince, babe." Nico shrugs, "I don't make the rules around here, anymore."

#nico hischier #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier x oc #*oys #*writing #MY SHAYLAS I'VE MISSED THEM SO MUCH THIS FED SOMETHING WITHIN ME #I was gonna wait until later to post this but who am I to gatekeep #this isn't showing up on my dash so I have no faith in it showing on anyone else's lmao

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byechristopher · 1 year ago

Note

can u do a fic where chris and reader are dating but reader gets insecure because she sees all these old pics and vids of chris with this girl he used to be with but they talk about it and they say to each other they're in love for the first time this is bad sorry but i'm lowkey sad and need this

Trust Me.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO FLUFF.

Author's note: Hey there, thank you for the request! Now, I didn't know how to bring up the old photos, so y e s, I used snapchat memories (happened to me, so..). I hope you like it either way. 🤍 Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: None, sliiight angst. Did not proofread!

Usually, I'm not one to stare at people, but when it comes to Chris, I can never resist, even when he's doing the simplest tasks. We've only been dating for a couple of months, and while I wouldn't label myself as "obsessed," I find myself captivated by him.

My thoughts are interrupted by Chris (not that I mind) as I sit on the pavement, and he bends over to gently kiss the top of my head, his hands cupping my cheeks. I smile and grasp his hands, looking up at him to see his beautiful smile.

"Beautiful day today, huh?" he says, sitting down beside me, his head tilted back, soaking in the sunshine.

I gaze at him, appreciating the way the sun highlights his curls, makes his skin glow, and brings out the pink in his lips and the icy blue of his eyes. God.

"Yes, very beautiful," I chuckle, joining him in looking up at the sky, letting the sun caress my face as well.

"I'm gonna go take a shower. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?" he smiles and wraps an arm around my shoulders, bringing me closer to him so that he can press a kiss on my cheek.

"Yes, yes. Can I play that game on your phone?" I grin, knowing he is not able to resist that and he chuckles, giving me his phone.

"Here you go, babe."

He leaves and I immediately unlock his phone. I want to start the game but a notification from snapchat pops up and I accidentally press on it. I roll my eyes because it is one of these "memories" thingies, it said two years ago.

When it opens, my stomach drops. A few pictures and a video of Chris and his ex girlfriend are under this notification. I know I shouldn't feel anything but I do. Especially when I see how tightly he's holding her, the way he looks into her eyes. The video is my last straw – he's cupping her cheeks while pressing kisses all over her face, saying over and over again how much he loves her. He sounds very genuine. He's never told me he loves me. Ouch.

I quickly close the app and lock his phone, not in the mood to play any of the games on his phone anymore. I can't fathom my emotions – perhaps because I've already fallen for him, and the fact that he might not love me just yet triggers an unsettling feeling within me. Not a positive one.

I go back inside the apartment because I am not in the mood to enjoy any type of sunshine either, so when he's done and he doesn't see me there, he gets confused.

"Babe? Where are you?" his shouts reach me, and I take a deep breath, wondering whether I should tell him anything or just leave it be.

"Hey, I'm up here." I say, standing on top of the stairs as I look down at him.

His smile brightens and he starts walking up the stairs to meet me – he's got a fresh hoodie on now, his hair is damp and the fact that he looks like the cutest human being on earth doesn't help with the fact that I want to cry.

"Why'd you leave? I thought you wanted to stay outside for a while," he questions, pulling me close for a kiss.

"Yeah, just not in the mood," I shrug, failing to force a smile before heading to the bedroom.

"Babe." he follows, concerned, "is there something wrong?" he furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"No.. just.. everything's fine." I realise how stupid I will sound if I say anything so now I am just stuck with my mood swings.

"You know you can tell me everything, yes?" he gets on his knees right in front of me as I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, placing his hands on my thighs and giving them a small reassuring squeeze.

I look down at him, then down to my fingers, really considering telling him now. With a small sigh, I cover my face with both hands, "I accidentally opened your snapchat memories." I say, really getting embarrassed now, "and it was you.. with.. yeah."

I can hear him sighing as well, knowing what I'm talking about, but he doesn't say anything for a while. Instead, he grabs my hands gently pulling them away from my face, bringing them both close to his lips so he can kiss them.

"Baby.. you know this means absolutely nothing now, right?" his voice is so sweet and gentle, like honey, it makes me want to cry.

"I know.. please, I just.. I don't know why I'm feeling this way." I know exactly why I'm feeling that way but I would never tell him that, he'd be so uncomfortable. Especially if he doesn't love me back just yet.

"It's normal, I think I would feel the same way if I saw you with your ex." he nods, still pressing kisses to the palms of my hands, "but you need to know that you're the only one I see. For a very long time now." his eyes look sincere as he makes sure to keep eye contact with me no matter how much I avoid it.

I don't say anything, I only nod – he gets up and quickly picks me up, making me wrap my legs around his waist as he sits at the edge of the bed with me in his lap this time. His hands touch me everywhere, my thighs, my waist, my back, my hair – his touch is feather-like, it feels dreamy.

"You know, baby.." he speaks with his gentle voice, "..I might not talk about my feelings as much as you do, but that doesn't mean I don't feel as much as you do." he buries his hand in my hair, his lips close to my ear, pressing kisses there and on my cheek.

I don't have the time to say anything because he continues, "I'm very, very bad when it comes to expressing my feelings, I think you know that by now." he chuckles a bit, making me smile a little bit, "but what I'm feeling for you, I don't think I've ever experienced before." he says and I don't want to get my hopes up but my heart definitely does something, "the moment I saw you, I knew. And that scared me. The fact that my heart felt something, by just looking at you."

I pull back just a bit to look at him, his hands now cupping my cheeks, caressing my skin, "and still to this day, even after all these months, I still feel the same way I felt when I first saw you." he presses his forehead against mine, kissing my lips every now and then, "I am.. madly in love with you, baby." he whispers and I almost widen my eyes.

"What–" only this word comes out of my mouth but I want to grab him and kiss him and tell him a million things. But nothing else comes out and my heart starts beating fast, like crazy.

"Yes. I am sorry if it's too soon for you. But I wanted to say it to you since like.. the first month. I just didn't want you to think of me as a weirdo.." he chuckles and I chuckle, too, "and anyway, you know I don't necessarily like expressing my feelings but sometimes it is necessary for the both of us."

"I am in love with you too.." I smile, my arms wrapping around his neck to bring him even closer to me, "and I have been for a while now." I whisper against his lips.

"Shit. You're doing it again.." he whispers, his smile so big, "the thing. My heart." he whispers again and I laugh softly.

"Stop. I love you." I say and my heart feels at peace.

He smiles, wrapping his arms around my waist again, hugging me close before kissing me again, "I love you too."

371 notes · View notes

sailorastera · 1 year ago

Text

my (gender neutral) dudes

I just made this bow today

And I'm like it's so pretty

yeah space mom

ilu such a pretty bow

And I put it in the light box and take a pic

yeah so pretty! love that. pretty pretty

nice ruffles lace

then I turn off the light....

...and she HENMKIN GLOWES 🤯

pin was a gift from a friend, it's by @claygrahamart!

#adorkabows #star wars #handmade #hairbows #princess leia #rebel alliance

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chaostudee · 8 months ago

Text

my woman, lando norris.

summary : y/n norris, married to lando norris, is one of the most popular wags and when she isn't seen in the paddock for a while rumours start to spread. faceclaim : madeline argy a/n : i'm acc obsessed with making smau posts now 🙈 also might do a part 2 lmk what you think??

landonorris the loml

liked by y/nusername, charlesleclerc, oscarpiastri and 2,829,610 others.

y/nusername u rly had to use the worst pics possible ugh i hate youuuu

landonorris no u don't y/nusername shush

oscarpiastri cute

y/nusername how polite cat of you

user7292 my goal in life is to have a relationship like theirs

carmenmundt why are you guys acc the cutesttt

f1fannn fav wag

fangirl1919 nahhh kika solos y/n

danielriccardo i swear yesterday he was literally 18

charlesleclerc they grow up so fast 😭

y/nusername acai bowls are like my current obsession rn

liked by landonorris, carmenmundt, maxverstappen and 1,292,919 others.

landonorris i thought i was your current obsession 🥲

y/nusername you're my forever obsession ;)

user8191 she's so naturally beautiful omggg

mclaren our fav wag

charlesleclerc biased

f1fannn we need y/n back in the paddockkk

alexsaintmleux literally glowing <3

carmenmundt no cause why is an acai bowl like the best thing ever like i need that shit injected in my veins.

y/nusername 🙌

y/nusername

landonorris YOU KEPT INTERRUPTING ME

y/nusername BECAUSE I WAS ASKING YOU MADE IT SO CONFUSING

carmenmundt me

y/nusername the girlies that get it get it

y/nusername monaco dumpp

liked by landonorris, charlesleclerc, lewishamilton and 2,929,941 others.

landonorris my wife ladies and gentlemen

mclaren hope you had the best time !

alexsaintmleux loved catching up with you <3

y/nusername mwah

f1fannn her outfit as as usual omggg

kikagomez actually jelly of lando

oscarpiastri lovely seeing you (lily made me type this)

y/nusername 💀

landonorris f1 + wife = perfection

liked by y/nusername, mclaren, aussiegrit and 2,190,789 others.

y/nusername next canada !!

f1fangirl his curlssss omgggg

danielriccardio cute ig

f1wags y/n plsss never let lando cut his hair

y/nusername i promise 🫶

georgerussell the livery ate

carmenmundt help 😭😭

f1wagupdates alex and rebecca in the paddock today in canada. no sign of y/n..???

liked by f1updates, f1fan_891 and justaninchident and 10,429 others.

user929 ferrari girls 🏎

user_leclerc no y/n im acc sobbing wtfff she hasn't missed a gp....like everrrr

f1fan829 maybe y/n and lando broke up???

user310 girl stfu acc

carmenmundt missing you @y/nusername

liked by georgerussell, landonorris and y/nusername and 159,910 others.

y/nusername omg stop ill cry i miss you too, we have to meet up soon

georgerussell i acc think she loves y/n more than me sometimes 🙄

*comments on this post have been limited*

y/nusername there has been alot of speculation online about me and rumours and it would be stupid of me to lie and say that they are false. i'm pregnant and i will not be attending any more races this season but will support lando from home. please respect our privacy and baby norris <3

liked by landonorris, carmenmundt, georgerussell and 4,829,920 others.

georgerussell congrats you two !!

carmenmundt can officially call you mother now :)

landonorris love u and baby sm ❤️

y/nusername we love you more

charlesleclerc I CALL GODFATHER

danielriccardio NOPE IT WILL BE ME carlossainz guys be so fr it will be me, me are lando are like this 🤞 landonorris i was acc thinking about choosing oscar oscarpiastri 😢

taglist ⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn

@sweetestgirlintown111

#f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #masterlist #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #landoscar #f1 2024

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lizhaoyu · 13 days ago

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Forbidden - Part 1

(A/N: Hello~ I'm dropping one part of this Iso x reader, before I move on to the requests. Ya'll have been THIRSTING for Iso smut, I fear (I simply must indulge you all). Lovelove, Nightowl~)

Cold!GN!Reader x Gymrat!Iso

MODERN AU

(Reader is implied to be feminine, because of makeup, but hey, who says men can't wear makeup, huh? I certainly wear makeup on a daily basis >:()

The mall’s bright lights reflected off the glossy floor, blending into the buzz of conversations, the chime of store doors opening, and the faint beat of a pop song playing over the speakers.

You barely paid attention to it all.

You were seated across from Sage at the food court, absently plumping your already plump lips in a compact mirror. Sage, ever chatty, had been on a video call with her boyfriend, Iso, while sipping on a bubble tea.

“Babe, guess who I’m with?” she giggled, flipping the camera to you.

You didn’t react. You were used to being shown off like some prized possession. It wasn’t that you disliked Sage; Sage was probably one of the few people you tolerated. But you weren't one for social interaction beyond surface-level niceties.

Instead of acknowledging the camera, you continued fixing your lips, your large, doe-like eyes flickering briefly to the screen before returning to your reflection.

Iso, on the other hand, froze mid-rep at the gym. The weight he had been lifting hovered for a moment before he placed it down, eyes locked on his phone screen. His heartbeat quickened, though he didn't quite understand why.

“Cute, right?” Sage teased, noting his expression. “My bestie loves makeup and taking pics. Basically an Instagram royalty!”

Iso barely registered Sage's words.

There was something about the quiet way you carried yourself, the indifference in your gaze, the way you seemed entirely uninterested in him or anything else beyond your own little world. It was... mesmerizing.

He cleared his throat, forcing a chuckle. “Yeah, pretty much,” he admitted, but his voice lacked its usual teasing tone.

You hummed, finally acknowledging them, your voice soft but disinterested. “Are we done?”

Sage laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” She turned the camera back to herself, chatting away with Iso, but his mind was elsewhere.

Even after they ended the call, he found himself replaying that fleeting glance, wondering why, for the first time in his relationship, he felt something shift inside him.

Something he wasn’t supposed to feel.

Iso lay in bed, staring at his phone screen, the dim glow illuminating his face. Beside him, Sage slept peacefully, her breathing steady, her arm draped loosely over his torso.

And yet, he was wide awake.

He hadn't meant to do this. He told himself he was just mindlessly scrolling, just passing time. But somewhere between checking notifications and liking random posts, his thumb hovered over Sage’s followers list.

It was too easy to find you.

@ yn.aaa

Iso clicked on the profile before he could stop himself.

Your feed was a curated dream; pastel tones, soft aesthetics, and effortless poses that made you look almost unreal. Something like Royalty. You barely captioned your photos, yet each post had thousands of likes, comments flooded with admiration.

People adored you, and you never seemed to care.

You didn’t try to be alluring, but you were. The way your lips curled slightly, the way your big, glassy eyes stared through the screen—unbothered, untouched.

Iso exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn’t be looking at you like this.

And yet, long after he locked his phone and turned away from the screen, your image was burned into his mind.

Iso was supposed to be at the gym. That was his routine, his escape, the one place where his mind didn’t wander. But today, Sage had insisted he come to the mall instead.

“Come on, babe, you never shop with me,” she had pouted, clinging to his arm. “It’s just for a little bit, plus my friend's coming too!”

That last part had made him hesitate. But now, here he was, following Sage and you through endless rows of makeup counters and designer displays, feeling completely out of place.

You barely acknowledged him.

You were polite, offering the occasional hum or glance, but mostly, you were lost in your own world, swatching satin lippie shades on your wrist and examining foundations under the store lights.

You didn’t chatter like Sage did, didn’t seek his attention. If anything, you seemed indifferent to his presence.

And yet, you were stunning.

The way you moved, slow and deliberate, picking up only the most expensive makeup without hesitation. The way you’d tilt your head slightly, assessing a product like you were critiquing fine art. Your long lashes fluttered as you tested a new mascara, your lips pursed ever so slightly in concentration.

You were beautiful (hi men can be called beautiful btw im a man and im beautiful) in a way that was effortless. Unbothered. Distant.

Iso found himself watching you more than he should have.

“You take forever,” Sage whines to you. Then, with a giggle, nudging Iso.

Iso chuckled, forcing himself to look away. “Yeah… guess so.”

You glanced at them then, your gaze unreadable. For a brief moment, Iso wondered if you had noticed the way he’d been watching you.

Then, just as quickly, you turned away, focusing back on the shimmering palette in your hands, as if he were nothing more than background noise.

Iso shouldn’t be thinking about you.

But he was.

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, he found his mind wandering to the way your fingers had delicately brushed over the sleek packaging of a designer lipstick. The way you had barely spoken, yet still held the air of someone untouchable. Unreachable.

What would it be like to change that?

He knew it was wrong. Knew it was dangerous.

But the thought crept in anyway; what if he bought all that expensive makeup for you? What if he placed it in your hands and watched your reaction? Would you still be so indifferent, or would you soften, even just a little?

What would it take to melt the ice around your heart?

Iso ran a hand over his face, frustrated. He was spiraling, losing control of his thoughts. Sage was beside him, the girl he loved—the girl he should be thinking about.

And yet, it wasn’t Sage’s face that lingered in his mind.

It was yours.

The mall was bustling as the trio wandered through, Sage leading the way with you trailing just behind her, brows furrowed in concentration as you examined a new makeup line.

Iso, walking silently behind them, kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his mind wandering, his thoughts distant.

It wasn’t until Sage's voice broke the silence that he snapped back to the present.

“Hey, check that guy out!” Sage pointed to a tall figure walking past them, his biceps bulging beneath the fabric of his tight shirt. “Big biceps, right?”

Your eyes flicked briefly to the man, but you didn’t seem to care for his face.

Instead, your gaze lingered on his arms, the defined muscles clearly catching your attention. For just a moment, your lips parted, and there was a quiet appreciation in your gaze before you glanced away, the indifferent mask returning instantly.

Sage, noticing your subtle reaction, smirked. “Told you, didn’t I? They love guys with big biceps.”

Iso, who had been walking with his hands shoved in his pockets, froze at her words.

His heart skipped a beat, and an inexplicable rush of unease hit him. His eyes darted between you and the man, a slow realization creeping into his chest.

You had looked at the guy the way he had hoped you might look at him. It wasn’t just a passing glance, it was a flicker of something deeper. Something… appreciative.

Iso flexed his own biceps subconsciously, feeling the hard muscles under his shirt, wondering if that was what had drawn your attention.

He’d worked hard for them at the gym; every rep, every set had been an effort to improve himself, to grow stronger. But now, he was aware of something more: you seemed to notice, maybe even admire, strength in a way Sage never had.

Was that the key?

“Yeah, they're into the muscles,” Sage continued with a playful grin, oblivious to the tension building in Iso’s chest. “You should see the guys they follow on Instagram. It’s all about the muscles.”

Iso didn’t reply.

His mind was racing. His thoughts shifted from the man with the muscles to the realization that he had the same kind of physique—strong arms, defined chest, and all the effort he’d put into his gym sessions.

Could this be the key to catching your attention? Could something as simple as his own body be what you were seeking?

The idea gnawed at him, his stomach twisting. He shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t be questioning everything about his relationship with Sage. But there was a pull, an undeniable curiosity about you that he couldn't ignore.

As you turned your attention to the next makeup display, your disinterest in him clear once again, Iso felt a pang of frustration. He had everything you seemed to like, but you barely spared him a second glance.

What would it take to get you to notice him?

The thought lingered in his mind as they continued to walk, and Iso realized that this time, he was more determined than ever to find out.

(A/N: How's this one? Lol. I was having that male ovulation phase, just had to write about Iso. How do we feel about this one, chat? I DO NOT CONDONE STEALING SOMEONE FROM A RELATIONSHIP. Anyway, time for my plug- follow me on twitch.tv/nightowlzxz!)

#valorant x reader #valorant #iso x reader #iso valorant #worksbynightowl

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apocalypse-shuffle · 6 months ago

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ALCIDE HERVEAUX (true blood)

—

“Formality” (Alcide Herveaux x Fem!Reader)

| Rikki left you with a task to fulfill: train Alcide how to fight your pack’s way. Unfortunately for you, though, the man is about as irritating as he is nice to look at.

| NSFW, enemies to lovers-ish, training, brief werewolf transformation, reader-insert is shorter than Alcide, UST, pre smut -werewolf!reader

| Pic source: True Blood (2008-2014)

| Happy Halloween Eve!! 🐾

| 1k+ words

“GOD-FUCKING-DAMNIT, ALCIDE!”

Your lungs ache with the force of your shout, throat already sore from just five minutes of arguing.

In all honesty you’ve just about had it. Had it with all of the yelling and name-calling that happened so often when you and this bullheaded-ass man were alone together that always ended with both of you bruised and frustrated.

Today was no different.

The pack barn was empty — everyone had cleared out once they heard you and Alcide start going at it. And to top it all of you can’t even remember what you’d actually been planning to do with him today, you just know that Alcide Herveaux is a pain in your ass and you do not plan on letting up your argument anytime soon.

You’ve been training him in place of Rikki for the fight against y’all’s current piece of shit packmaster, JD. Rikki and you had aligned with Alcide when he challenged JD because you could both see that he was leading the pack down a shitty path.

Rikki had been ready to challenge JD herself, with you as her second, before Alcide came along and y’all decided that since he’d already killed one of his past packmasters and managed to become packmaster of what was left of his own pack that hadn’t defected to the vamps under Cooter, he’d do.

Alcide was doing a good enough job with his pack in Jackson, after his old packmaster up and left when the vampires had indoctrinated the majority of his wolves, so you were willing to back him up in taking control and merging packs.

If only he’d focus less on fucking with you and more on training.

Rikki wasn’t training him because she was dealing with a runaway, a teenaged pup chasing V. So now the duty was on you to be Alcide’s second and prepare him for fighting against a coked up werewolf.

“What’s the matter, Boss, worried for me? I took on Marcus, I can take JD,” Alcide says, smirking.

One brow raised, you roll your eyes.

“Uh huh, I’m sure a werewolf two times as fast and bloodthirsty will be the exact same. Training at this point is just a formality,” your words drip heavily with sarcasm before you shift to come at him with a barrage of kicks.

Alcide takes the first hit like a pro and blocks the rest without much trouble. That is until you get close enough to knee him in the nards, wait until he’s keeling over to grab hold of his junk, then aim for the side of his neck on your next strike instead of his torso.

He doesn’t block your attack in time by a landslide and falls the rest of the way to the ground like a crumpled marionette a second later. You’d have more sympathy for a puppet.

Blinking down at him you watch him struggle on his knees. Kneeling with his hand on his throat, breath wheezing out as his body struggles to heal his esophagus. Supernatural or not, a hit to the throat was a hit to the throat.

Once Alcide gets his bearings he looks up at you with glowing yellow eyes and glares.

“For something so small you sure can hit hard,” he grunts out. He starts stripping out of his shirt.

Scoffing, you shrug; determined to take any injuries he got as seriously as he was your training.

This wasn’t a game and you needed him to start acting like it.

Quickly.

“Mhm.” You drum your fingers against the dark skin of your arm, lips pursed. “Next time throw your forearms up to block a kick to the head or neck, and don’t let yourself get so damn comfortable. You left your dick right open, I was practically invited. And if you're about to get hit in the head pretty much just fall back as much as possible. A hit to the temple or an uppercut will knock you out.”

And that’s all you give him in lieu of a more clever retort.

Alcide huffs out a breath as he stands, movements slow, “I’ll keep that in mind if JD’s crazy ass pulls out unknown judo skills. Come on, Y/n, he’s not coming at me with anything but wild punches, fang, and claw. So yeah, this is formality.”

You grit your teeth.

“Trained or not, JD is unstable with all that V in him. So formality or not, we’re training so you’re ready regardless of what he throws at you. But since you seem so set on it, we can train with fang and claw.”

You glare as Alcide chuckles, looking you up and down. You’re just about ready to screw it all at this point with his bullshit appeasement routine and walk out when he drops his pants and lunges.

“I’ll take you up on that,” he growls, his shift taking over in the midst of his final word.

Eyes widening, you just barely jump out of the way of the downward swipe of his claws. You don't have time to marvel at the juxtaposition of Alcide, Mississippi lumber man, being an arctic wolf before you’re bursting outside of the barn and into the woods.

A wolf-like snigger and the pounding of paws hitting the earth is what you hyper focus on as you run, throwing bits and pieces of clothing off as you go. You don’t bother trying to take off your socks as you toss your T-shirt overhead and rip the shorts from your body.

Fuck it, you’re not losing to Alcide of all wolves.

Alcide nips at your heels once playfully and you growl low in your throat, eyes flashing to life. The glow casts the land in front of you a faint yellow as you whizz by, speeding up and putting a couple feet of distance between you and the other wolf. Your own wolf pulls at your control as Alcide growls behind you in a goad; clearly you’re taking too long to engage for his liking.

Smirking, you speed up even more before jumping and grabbing a hold of a low hanging branch. You swing yourself up and perch atop, watching in amusement as Alcide blows past you and then skids. He kicks up dirt as he turns around with a high pitched yip. It has you laughing while you shed your underwear and socks, letting them fall to the ground below.

Your panties land directly on top of the other wolf’s head and you watch him struggle to paw them off long enough for him to start getting irritated and growl to himself before you push yourself off the branch and book it towards the swamp.

Hardly skipping a step, your shift takes place, and with the switch everything is so easy.

Your paws pound on the earth and your lungs fill with the essence of the swamp as you howl and charge straight for the water.

You’re maybe part of the way there, going so fast you’re well on your way to flying, when you’re veering left completely absent of your own accord.

Yelp caught in your throat you go crashing into the brush, the full brunt of Alcide’s arctic wolf ramming into your side and bowling you off your path.

With brief flashes of shimmering light you both transition back to “human”, your brown skin getting peppered with sticks and sand and flora without your wolf’s thicker skin and lush fur as a barrier.

Instead it’s the tight curls at the top of your head that snag against leaves and twigs as you tumble with Alcide’s skin sliding against yours, but you don’t even mind, a new weight falling from your shoulders bit by bit with every roll.

When you both come to a stop you’re splayed on top of him, hands locked around his tanned arms and both of your legs tangled.

He chuckles and it’s a boyish lilting thing, still gulping for air as he looks you up and down, a wave of desire rising in his warm brown irises.

It isn’t until then that you notice just how close you are to each other. You drop your head closer to him and gaze your own bright eyes into his. His bare chest, surprisingly not hairy, heaves up and down as he grins at you. You match his energy, breaths just as labored as Alcide’s.

His gaze is all wild and sharp. Filled with a wolf’s playfulness.

“You’re a pain in my ass, Herveaux,” you pant, pupils blown wide with lust as you glance down at his mouth.

You have been working hard, you muse. A reward would be nice.

He licks his lips.

“You love it.”

“Occasionally,” you counter, a growl rumbling in your chest, and then you’re both crashing into each other again (just a little to the left this time).

The kiss is all vigor. Teeth clacking together and tongues battling for dominance, another race all on its own. Alcide eventually makes you lose ground and gets you on your back. You both break apart to gasp for breath.

“You gonna let me fuck you?”

His hand goes to squeeze around the side of your neck and you find yourself baring it for him, a tiny whimper pushing past your lips.

“Take a break?” You blink up at him, eyes soft, but hold a finger up so he doesn’t move on you just yet. “—So long as you get it together when we’re done.”

─────

Your airy voice and soft noises make his wolf tremble with the urge to claim. To mate. Alcide pauses to take a deep breath, ease the way his beast rattles, but it doesn’t do a damn thing but make his cock twitch and fatten. The other werewolf smells like straight arousal.

Brimstone and something earthy, inherently woody and unquestionably you, fills his nose and whatever inclination he had to pace himself firmly slips to the back of his mind.

“Yeah, Babydoll, let’s take a break. I’ll be as good as I can be afterwards.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

Mind any typos, I will get to them later. And, yeah, I did give a little nod to Monster Squad (1987) with that ‘nards’ bit.

There’s also a high possibility I might rewrite/repost this later with more story due to the time constraints of trying to get this out today not allowing for as much expansion as I would’ve wanted, but yeah.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

#alcide herveaux #true blood #black!reader #black y/n #alcide herveaux x black!reader #an apocalypse-shuffle halloween special #werewolf!reader #true blood x black!reader #alcide herveaux imagines #true blood imagines #true blood x reader #alcide herveaux x reader #werewolf #werewolf x reader #werewolf x human #x black!reader

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hunterthecharmer · 7 months ago

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Unexpected - Part 4

Summary: You work for an events company and end up being assigned as a talent handler for a 2 week long convention. Your co-worker ends up assigned to Glen Powell, but you catch his eye. Can you remain professional and keep him from knowing you're actually a pretty big fan of his?

Authors note: we are finally off to the races with the Glen content. It’s only uphill from here 💙 inserting these pics because they’re my inspo for his look. Let me know your thoughts!!

You awaken to the sound of your phone buzzing loudly on your wooden nightstand. You groan as you reach toward the glowing screen, eyes burning as you flip it over to see who’s blowing you up. It’s 5am, and Savannah’s contact photo fills your screen. You hit the answer button, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. “Hello?” you croak, voice hoarse.

“Oh, thank goodness you answered! I've been trying to get a hold of you for the last forty-five minutes. I still feel like crap, is there any way you can take over Glen’s schedule today? I already texted our lead about it, and Dylan doesn’t have any overlaps so you’re good there.”

You blink slowly as you try to process her words. “Sure, Sav. I’m sorry you’re sick.” You finally reply. “When do I need to pick him up?” Savannah coughs on the other end of the line. “His first event is at 8! Thank you so much, I owe you big. I’m gonna go back to sleep.” She hangs up, and you fall back into the mattress.

---

“I’m gonna need 3 coffees this morning, thanks.” You hurriedly grab the drink carrier back to your golf cart before speeding over to Dylan’s cabin. “Morning Mr. O’Brien!” You grin at him, pointing excitedly to the coffee cups. “Heck yeah! Let’s do this.” He takes the cup from your hands and slides next to you. “Dylan, I have to cover for Savannah today with Glen so it might get a little hectic, but don’t worry. I promise you’re my priority, and you won’t be late to anything!” You smile at him as you drive toward his trailer, putting your sunglasses on with your free hand. Dylan sips his coffee, “No problem.”

Once he’s dropped off, you head to pick up Glen. You pull in front of his cabin and beep the horn a few times to let him know you’re ready. He emerges moments later in jeans and a blue argyle sweater, hair perfectly styled. His leather watch catches the sun as he bounces down the stairs, face lighting up when he spots the coffee in the cup holder. “You’re my hero!” You giggle before reversing the cart. “Bad nights sleep, Mr. Powell?”

“Just a lot on my mind.” He answers quickly, only glancing over to you out of the corner of his eye as he drinks his coffee. He then waves a hand in front of you both, continuing. “Woah woah woah, Savannah does NOT call me that. Does Dylan ask to be addressed that way? Cuz’ I will give him so much shit for that later.” You burst into laughter together, covering your mouth in embarrassment. “Look, we are technically supposed to address all talent this way. Unless they specify otherwise that is.” You smile to yourself as you drive.

“Well I am definitely specifying. You’re like, what, only a few years younger than me right? I’m just Glen. K?” You nod. “Understood.” You let silence fill the air as you continue to drive towards his trailer, a couple light giggles escaping from both of you.

“Also, I know you’ve heard already but I will be covering Savannah today, so anything you need, just text or call me. Okay?” you look at him and he shoots you a thumbs up, downing the rest of his coffee before you arrive at the trailer.

“Have a good class!” You encourage, and Glen spins around to wink at you while clicking his pen, journal tucked under his arm. You wait until he gets through the door before you drive away to check on your friend.

….

“Long story short, I’m feeling much better.” Savannah sighs as she cuddles further into her blanket, the tv lightly playing in the background of her room. “I’m glad to hear it. You think you’ll be back in business tomorrow? It’s getting a little difficult with Glen. Not in a bad way, it’s just that he is being really sweet and I…I’m trying really hard to be professional. But you know how I feel about him!” You exclaim in a hushed tone, flopping backward onto the comforter. Savannah nods knowingly. “Just keep being yourself, you can’t help how he acts or feels toward you. You just can’t forget that you have a job to do.” You listen to her, twisting your hair around your finger as your stomach drops. You spend a little more time with her before heading back to pick up the boys and continue to drop them off for their events the rest of the day. Fortunately for you, they both had events close in proximity to each other so you didn’t have to drive either of them far, which left less time for you and Glen to talk. By the time the day was over, you happily slipped off your shoes and took a shower longer than normal to release some of your nerves. Glen was a celebrity, and naturally charming. No way would he ever actually flirt with you, right? You’re a nobody. Just a normal girl who happens to be working an event he booked to help him further his career. His very real, very serious Hollywood career.

You allow the warm water to cascade down your back for a while before stepping out of the shower to slide into bed, flipping on the TV to watch a movie and enjoy your pizza the craft service sent you to your cabin with.

As the hours pass, a storm forms outside and you welcome the thunder with the occasional flashes of lightning making the room glow. It eventually lulls you to sleep until you’re ripped from your dream to the sound of your work phone buzzing from across the room. You instantly snap up in bed at the different ring tone, your brain telling you this is important. You lunge toward the phone and look at the caller ID - it’s Glen’s assistant. Confused, you answer the call.

“Hello, this is..” A female’s voice instantly begins speaking as soon as they have confirmation someone is on the other end of the phone. You listen closely, rubbing your eyes as you realize it’s 3 in the morning. You learn that Glen’s mom has been trying to get ahold of him all night but he hasn’t heard her calls; she and his dad were out riding their electric bikes that evening when his dad accidentally wrecked it, hurting his back pretty badly. They had been out and about downtown so his mom didn’t want Glen to hear it from a news outlet before he could hear it from them and know his dad was going to be fine. You feel your heartbeat quicken as you assure her that you’d let Glen know as soon as possible so he could give his family a call, since they were all still at the hospital with his dad. You hang up with her and start slipping on your tennis shoes and rain jacket, grimacing at your air dried hair in the mirror and deciding to throw on your hat to hide it. The rain was still coming down heavily outside, so you’d need to be quick. You rush out the door and onto your golf cart, instantly missing having a car here on the property. You make it to Glen’s cabin in no time, struggling to see through all the rain. The claps of thunder startle you as you put the cart in park and run to the front door. You knock loudly on the door, calling Glen’s name as you do. “Glen, Glen! Wake up! Please!” You bang on the door about 6 more times before the door finally swings open, a very tired and confused Glen standing before you in his sweatpants. “What’s going on?” His voice is raspy as he steps aside for you to come in, drenched from the storm. You stand near the front door and pull your phone out of your jacket pocket. “I’m sorry to wake you, but your assistant called me. Your dad’s in the hospital for a back injury. He and-” Glen cuts you off, eyes widening. “Oh my gosh, is he ok? When did this happen?” He paces over to his phone on the nightstand, raking a hand through his hair as he sees all his missed call notifications. “He’s okay, I promise! He had an accident on the electric bike with your mom downtown. She wanted to tell you before you heard it elsewhere.” You finally get out all the details, watching as he nods along while dialing his mom. They speak for a few moments before hanging up. You tried not to eavesdrop but you could hear most of what was said. They didn’t want him to fly all the way back to Texas, there was nothing he could do there that he couldn’t do here. They would discharge his dad in a day or so, it wasn’t like it was life threatening. Glen sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes wandering over to yours. “Thank you for driving over here to tell me, I’m a pretty heavy sleeper.” He shoots you a sleepy smile, the pain he is trying to hide all over his face. It hurts you to see him so upset, so worried.

“Of course, I’m just glad I heard my phone and that everyone’s okay.” You yawn, awkwardly shifting your weight as you adjust your hat on your head, irritated at how drenched you were. You were shivering in his doorway, texting his assistant to let her know you had told Glen and all was well.

“Hold on, is that a Longhorns hat?” He asks in disbelief, slipping a t- shirt over his head before suddenly standing to walk over to you. In one quick motion, you cover the logo with one hand and pull your hood over your head, body turning toward the doorknob. “Uh, yeah! Yeah, it is. Small world, right? Anyways, I’ll let you get back to sleep.” You stumble over your words, knowing full well that he could never know the real reason as to why you own the hat on top of your head. Never.

“You were already awesome, but this just tipped you over the edge.” He smirks playfully at you, his warm hands reaching for your cap and carefully lifting it off of you. He inspects the inside, giving a nod of approval before putting it back on you. “Yep, that’s official alright.”

Grinning at each other, you twist the doorknob and step backward, the cold rush of the rain and winds blowing the hood off your head. “What’re you doing?” Glen shouts, quickly slamming the door shut and tugging your wrist towards him, and back towards his warm room. “It’s nasty out there, no way I’m letting you drive back yet. You can hang here until it clears up.” Glen throws the blanket draped over the couch in front of the fireplace over to you, and you catch it with a huff. “No, Glen..do you understand that I will lose my job if anyone sees me leaving here at this hour? It’s extremely unprofessional.” You shake your head while draping the blanket over your shoulders, thankful for its warmth. Glen leans against the tufted sofa, crossing his arms as he purses his lips. “You came here to give me a message about my family. I don’t care who I have to explain that to. Now come over here and let’s get you warmed up.” His tone is quiet now, dripping with exhaustion and care. He was not going to take no for an answer.

Hanging your head in defeat, you kick off your shoes and jacket before heading over to join him by the fireplace. He flips a switch on the electric fireplace, the heat quickly warming your bones. You watch the flames dance along the screen, unusually grateful that it wasn’t a real fireplace at this moment because of the time it might take to get it going. Glen sighs as if he is having the same thought before taking a seat on the couch. He drapes an arm over the backside of it, as if to invite you to sit next to him. You opt for the floor, planting yourself on the soft shag rug. He clicks his tongue with a low hum before sliding down to join you, nudging your shoulder.

“I don’t bite, you know.” He began, before gently removing your hat from your head, your hands reaching up to smooth out your frizzy hair immediately. Glen slowly stops you, his own hands covering yours to pull them down. You stare at each other for a moment, as you wait for him to say something else. When he doesn’t, you speak up to fill the quiet space. “Thanks for letting me wait out the storm. I hope it clears up befo-“

Glen cuts you off.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

His blunt confession rattles you, suddenly feeling like a deer in headlights. Had you been that obvious?

Your mouth goes dry, mind swirling with what to say to him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.” You lie, your expression one of stone while your tone betrays you. You so desperately wished that you could be more coy at this moment.

His sage eyes sparkle at you, his body shifting so that he’s fully facing you now, hugging his knees to his chest as he watches you go still.

“It’s 4am, you’re off the clock and I’m calling your bluff.” his lips curl into another smirk. Your eyes search his face, the glow of the flames making him look even better than normal. You make a mental note of his disheveled hair, not able to stop yourself from running your fingers through it. He exhales deeply, enjoying your touch. You search his face for any sign that he wants you to stop, but instead his eyes begin to close, head leaning forward into your touch. A few long, quiet moments pass, the storm outside and crackle of the fireplace filling the room.

“You didn’t deny it.” He finally whispers, his voice so relaxed you almost can’t hear him.

You slowly halt scratching his head, your hands moving to either side of his face to gently trace his features. He smiles softly at you, and it makes your heart leap.

His hands rest on your ankles as you face him, legs criss crossed. The contact makes your breath quicken, thankful they aren’t any higher.

“Alright, fine. Yes, I may or may not….” you pause, carefully choosing your words, “find you attractive.”

His eyes widen, hands suddenly raising to grip your upper arms before swiftly pushing you backwards to pin you onto the floor. “Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t quite catch that. I’m gonna need you to speak a little louder for me.” His tone is low, and extremely flirty. You giggle beneath him, his boyish expressions making you dizzy. You’ve already admitted the words to him, no use in trying to be bashful now.

“I find you attractive, okay?!” You admit, covering your face with your hands to hide your burning cheeks.

“Oh no no no, uh uh. Don’t go acting all shy on me now. Look at me.” He laughs with you, prying your hands away. He lowers his nose to graze yours, a warm hand pushing your hair back from your forehead.

You bring your eyes up to meet his gaze, the warmth of his breath and smell of his cologne enveloping you.

“Hi.” You whisper softly, the last few days of interacting with him feeling like a strange lead up to a moment like this. It felt like something out of a movie. Your mind was screaming at you to get up off the floor and drive back to your cabin for the sake of your job and being professional, while your body was paralyzed in place.

“Hi.” He softly exhales back to you, brushing noses with you again before kissing your cheek. His soft lips, the warmth of the fireplace and the wind blowing outside made you sink into the floor beneath him. How many times had you dreamt of a moment like this? And then for it to happen with your celebrity crush?

Lifting his head to get a better look at you, his eyes search your face for a reaction. You can feel your cheeks getting tight at how hard you’re smiling, heart beating out of your chest. You feel your lips part, eyes dropping back to his lips. Feeling brave and overtaken by your attraction to him you lace your hands behind his neck to pull him back down to you, lips crashing together. The kiss is soft but firm, your fingers drifting to find his hair before he deepens the kiss. A strong arm loops under your back, pressing his body closer to yours. You hum against his lips, tasting his minty mouthwash as his tongue intertwines with yours.

His other hand reaches up to hold the side of your face, his thumb gently circling your cheek, right near the edge of your lips.

Finally breaking apart for air, Glen lifts you from the soft rug and brings you to your feet, placing your arms over his shoulders to be back around his neck as his arms snake around your waist to pull you into him, his lips finding yours again. He guides you backwards towards his bed, your knees bending at the side of the bed frame to sit on the edge mattress while you both continue to kiss each other’s faces off. When his hands start to glide underneath your oversized sleep shirt, you pull back from him, eyebrows raised. “We should stop.” You pant, voice quiet. He pouts at you, fingertips running up and down your spine. You close your eyes, trying to gauge if the rain had let up. It sounded like it had, to your dismay. You were also trying to soak in this moment because chances were it wasn’t ever going to happen again. When you open your eyes, his are now closed as he continues to trace circles on your back. You run a hand through his hair to put it semi back to normal, gently tapping the side of his face to wake him up. “Hey, you should get some sleep. I think it’s slowing down out there so I’m gonna head back.”

His eyes shoot open, and you feel a tinge of guilt as you note the redness in them now. Yours probably matched. You place both palms on his chest to wiggle your body away from him off the bed, making a beeline for your shoes and jacket near the door. It was taking every last bit of willpower not to turn around to tackle him back onto the bed, your body already missing his touch. He follows you to the door, handing your hat back to you with a smirk. “Thanks again.”

Your brows knit together in confusion as you take the hat from him, pulling your hood over your head and feeling around in your pocket for the cart key. “For..?” Your voice trails off. Glen laughs, “For the update on my dad. And for the kisses.” He winks at you, and your cheeks flush. Unsure of what to say, you step closer to him, his body leaning down to you in response. Getting on your tiptoes, you quickly cover his face in kisses, the child-like giggle that escapes his lips making your heart swell. You purposely leave his lips out of it, kissing his cheeks one last time before backing away from him. He frowns suddenly, shaking his head.

“Why’re you running away?” His tone is still playful, making it harder for you to leave. You felt like you were having an out of body experience, shocked at your bravery to kiss his face like you’d daydreamed of doing while watching his films, running your hands through his sandy blonde hair and pressing your bodies together. You needed to let him sleep, and you needed to rest too.

“I’m not, we just need to be able to function tomorrow. Goodnight, Glen.” You smile sweetly at him, shimmying your long coat sleeve off to expose your left hand to give him a tiny goodbye wave. He groans, throwing his head back before holding the door for you, watching as you drive away.

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